The Youth of Jefferson Part 13

"There you are, with your temptations--try to seduce me, a republican, into courtly extravagance--me, a martyr to religious toleration, republican ideas, and the rights of woman!"

"Very well, Sir Asinus, I won't tempt you further; but I think it would be cheap for you to marry on any terms--if only to extricate yourself from your present difficulties. Once married, you would of course leave college."

"Yes; but I wish to remain."

"What! in this attic?"

"Even so."

"A hermit?"

"Who said I was a hermit? I am surrounded with friends! Ned Carter comes and smokes with me until my room is one impervious fog, all the while protesting undying friendship, and asking me to write love verses for him. Tom Randolph is a faithful friend and companion. Stay, look at that beautiful suit of Mecklenburg silk which Belle-bouche admired so much--I saw she did. Tom gave me that--in return for my new suit of embroidered cloth. Who says human nature is not disinterested?"

"Cynic!"

"Yes, I would be, were I not a Stoic."

"You are neither--you are an Epicurean."

"Granted: I am even an Apician."

"What's that? Who was Apicius?"

"There, now, you are shockingly ignorant; you really don't know what _apis_ means in Sanscrit--bah!"

"In Sanscrit? True; but in Latin it is--"

"Bee: I'll help you out."

"Very well, you are an _Apician_, you say: expound."

"Why! do I not admire Belle-bouche?"

"I believe so."

"Pretty mouth--that is the translation?"

"Yes."

"A mouth like Suckling's lady-love's--stay, was it Suckling? Yes: Sir John. 'Some bee had stung it newly,' you know. Well, Belle-bouche has honey lips--a beautiful idea--and bees love honey, and I love Belle-bouche: there's the syllogism, as you tiresome logicians say. Q.

E. D., I am an _Apician_!"

Jacques stands astounded at this gigantic philological joke, to the great satisfaction of his friend, who caresses his sandy whiskers with still greater self-appreciation.

"Now call me Sir Asinus any longer, if you dare!" he says; and he begins chanting from the open book:

"Saltu vincit hinnulos, Damas et capreolos, Super dromedarios, Velox Madianeos!

Dum trahit vehicula Multa c.u.m sarcinula, Illius mandibula Dura terit pabula!"

"Translate now!" cries Sir Asinus, "and bear testimony to my worth."

Jacques takes the book and reads over the Latin; then he extemporizes:

"In running he excels Doctor Smalls and antelopes; Swift beyond the camels.

Or Midianitish proctors.

While he drags his dulness In verse along his pages, His asinarian jaw-bones Make havoc with the rhymes!"

Having modestly made this translation, Jacques closes the book and rises.

Sir Asinus tears his hair, and declares that his friend's ignorance of Latin is shocking.

"The ordinary plea when the rendering of disputed pa.s.sages is not to our taste," says Jacques. "But I must go. By the by, the worthy Doctor came near seeing you in the Governor's chariot."

"It was more than he dared to recognise me," said Sir Asinus grandly.

"Dared, eh?"

"Certainly; if he had bowed to me, I should have cut his acquaintance.

I would have refused to return his salute. I carefully avoided even looking at him, to spare his feelings."

"I appreciate your delicacy," said his friend; "you commenced your system even at Shadynook. Did you win any thing from Fauquier?"

"How did you know we played?"

"Why, returning past midnight, I saw lights."

"Very well--that proved nothing. We did play, however, friend Jacques, and I lost; which gave his Excellency an opportunity to perform a very graceful act. But enough. Before you go, tell me whom you were conversing with just now."

"A maiden," said Jacques.

"No! a perfect fairy."

"See the effect of seclusion! You are getting into such a state of disgust with your books, that you'll end by espousing Mother Bobbery, you unfortunate victim of political ideas."

"_I_ disgusted--_I_ tired of my books--_I_ tired, when I have this glorious song to sing!"

And at the top of his voice Sir Asinus chanted:

"Aurum de Arabia, Thus et myrrhum de Saba, Tulit in ecclesia Virtus asinaria!"

"Excellent dog Latin," said Jacques; "and literally translated it signifies:

'Gold from the Governor, Tobacco from the South Side, Asinarian strategy Has brought into his chambers.'

That is to say, asinarian strategy has made the attempt."

But Sir Asinus, disregarding these strictures, began to sing the chorus:

"Hez, Sire Asne, car chantez, Belle bouche rechignez; Vous aurez du foin a.s.sez, Et de l'avoine a plantez."