Page 234 - les-miserables

‘Sunday exists,’ resumed Fameuil.
‘We are sober,’ added Listolier.
‘Tholomyes,’ remarked Blachevelle, ‘contemplate my
calmness [mon calme].’
‘You are the Marquis of that,’ retorted Tholomyes.
This mediocre play upon words produced the effect of a
stone in a pool. The Marquis de Montcalm was at that time
a celebrated royalist. All the frogs held their peace.
‘Friends,’ cried Tholomyes, with the accent of a man who
had recovered his empire, ‘Come to yourselves. This pun
which has fallen from the skies must not be received with
too much stupor. Everything which falls in that way is not
necessarily worthy of enthusiasm and respect. The pun is
the dung of the mind which soars. The jest falls, no matter
where; and the mind after producing a piece of stupidity
plunges into the azure depths. A whitish speck flattened
against the rock does not prevent the condor from soaring
aloft. Far be it from me to insult the pun! I honor it in pro-
portion to its merits; nothing more. All the most august, the
most sublime, the most charming of humanity, and perhaps
outside of humanity, have made puns. Jesus Christ made a
pun on St. Peter, Moses on Isaac, AEschylus on Polynices,
Cleopatra on Octavius. And observe that Cleopatra’s pun
preceded the battle of Actium, and that had it not been
for it, no one would have remembered the city of Toryne,
a Greek name which signifies a ladle. That once conceded,
I return to my exhortation. I repeat, brothers, I repeat, no
zeal, no hubbub, no excess; even in witticisms, gayety, jol-
lities, or plays on words. Listen to me. I have the prudence

234 Les Miserables