Title: Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. VI
Compiler: Walter Hamilton
Release date: April 14, 2023 [eBook #70548]
Language: English
Original publication: United Kingdom: Reeves & Turner
Credits: Carol Brown, Chris Curnow, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
OF THE WORKS OF
COLLECTED AND ANNOTATED BY
Fellow of the Royal Geographical and Royal Historical Societies;
Author of “A History of National Anthems and Patriotic Songs,” “A Memoir of George Cruikshank”
“The Poets Laureate of England,” “The Æsthetic Movement in England,” etc.
VOLUME VI.
CONTAINING PARODIES OF
A. C. Swinburne. G. R. Sims. Robert Browning.
F. Locker-Lampson. Austin Dobson. Dante G. Rossetti.
OSCAR WILDE. J. DRYDEN. A. POPE. MARTIN F. TUPPER.
Ballades, Rondeaus, Villanelles, Triolets.
NURSERY RHYMES AND CHILDREN’S SONGS.
PARODIES AND POEMS IN PRAISE OF TOBACCO.
PROSE PARODIES.
SLANG, FLASH, AND CANT SONGS.
RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL PARODIES.
Bibliography of Parody, and Dramatic Burlesques
REEVES & TURNER, 196, STRAND, LONDON, W.C.
1889.
t is now a little more than six years since this publication was commenced, and the completion of the Sixth Volume enables me to say that nearly every Parody of literary merit, or importance, has been mentioned in its pages, whilst some thousands of the best have been given in full.
To form such a collection required not only an intimate knowledge of English Poetical Literature, but involved the reference to many very rare and scarce books, English, American, and Colonial.
I beg to offer my sincere thanks to the Authors who kindly permitted their copyright poems to be inserted in this volume, particularly to F. Locker-Lampson, Esq., and G. R. Sims, Esq., as well as to the following gentlemen, for copies of Parodies and other information they have afforded—Messrs. Cuthbert Bede, G. H. Brierley, of Cardiff; F. W. Crawford, T. F. Dillon Croker, Frank Howell, J. H. Ingram, Walter Parke, F. B. Perkins, of San Francisco; C. H. Stephenson, C. H. Waring, and Gleeson White.
In nearly every case the permission of the authors has been obtained for the re-publication of their Parodies; in the few instances where this was not done, it was owing to the impossibility of finding the author’s address.
During the progress of the work, some further Parodies appeared of Authors already dealt with, it is proposed to include these in a supplementary volume, which will be published at some future date.
It is believed that the ample Bibliographical information relating to Parodies and Burlesques contained in this volume will be specially useful to Librarians, Managers of Penny Readings, and Professors of Elocution.
Editors of Provincial Papers who offer prizes for Literary compositions should be on their guard against unscrupulous persons who copy Parodies from this Collection, and send them in as original compositions.
In much of the compilation, and especially those portions requiring the exercise of taste, and in the somewhat dreary process of proof reading, I have been greatly assisted by my wife, whose cheerful co-operation in all my labours adds just the zest which renders Life worth living.
Whilst bidding my subscribers Farewell, I wish to add that the subject of Parodies will continue to engage my attention, and that I shall always be grateful for any information, or examples, that may be sent to me, addressed to the care of Messrs. Reeves and Turner.
WALTER HAMILTON.
Christmas, 1889.
r. Swinburne, son of Admiral Charles Henry Swinburne, and grandson of Sir John Edward Swinburne, sixth baronet, was born in 1838, and educated first at Eton, and afterwards at Oxford.
Despite his ancient pedigree, his aristocratic connections, and his university education, the early writings of Mr. A. C. Swinburne, both in prose and verse, were coloured by Radical opinions of the most advanced description. Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth and Southey commenced thus, with results which should have taught him how unwise it is for a poet, who wishes to be widely read, to descend into the heated atmosphere of political strife.
The Undergraduate Papers, published by Mr. Mansell, Oxford, 1857-8, contained some of Mr. Swinburne’s earliest poems, these were followed by “Atalanta in Calydon,” “Chastelard,” and “Poems and Ballads.”
It will be readily understood that only a few brief extracts can be given from Mr. Swinburne’s poems, sufficient merely to strike the key notes of the Parodies.
THE CREATION OF MAN.
Shilling Dreadfuls.
“A nervous and well red-wigged gentleman, Mr. Allburnon-Charles Swingbun, ran excitedly to our rescue, and rhapsodically chaunted the following chorus from his ‘Atlas in Paddington’:
A chorus in “Atalanta in Calydon” commences:—
This passage was thus parodied by Mr. Austin Dobson:—
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The peculiar metre in which “Dolores” and the Dedication of the “Poems and Ballads” Volume are written, although it invites parody, is difficult to imitate successfully. The ending line of each stanza abruptly cut short is a trick in composition which few but Mr. Swinburne himself have thoroughly mastered.
The following stanzas from the Dedication will enable readers to perceive how closely they have been parodied by Mr. Pollock.
“Dedication to J. S.”
This parody, dedicated to the notorious “John Stiles,” of the old law-books, was written by Mr. Pollock, and originally appeared in The Pall Mall Gazette. It has since been included in a small volume (published by Macmillan & Co., London, 1875) entitled “Leading Cases done into English,” by an apprentice of Lincoln’s Inn.
This “J. S.” was a mythical person introduced for the purposes of illustration, and constantly met with in old law books and reports. His devotion to Rome is shown by his desperate attempts to get there in three days: “If J. S. shall go to Rome in three days,” was then a standing example of an impossible condition, which modern science has robbed of most of its point.
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THE BALLAD OF BURDENS.
This poem will be found on page 144 of Mr. Swinburne’s Poems and Ballads (first series). It is one of his best known ballads, and in 1879 it was chosen by the editor of The World as the model on which to found parodies describing the wet and gloomy summer of that year.
The successful poems in the competition were printed in The World, July 16, 1879. The first prize was won by a well known London Architect, the second by a Dublin gentleman who has since published several amusing Volumes of light poems.
This parody was afterwards included in A Book of Jousts, edited by James M. Lowry. London, Field and Tuer.
This second Ballade of Cricket was included in a collection of “Ballades and Rondeaus” edited by Mr. Gleeson White, and published by Walter Scott, London, 1887.
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Parodies of
DOLORES.
Dolores.
[Miss Dolores Lleonart-y-Casanovas, M.D., has just, at the age of 19, taken her doctor’s degree at Barcelona. July, 1886.]
This parody originally appeared, anonymously, in “The Shotover Papers, or, Echoes from Oxford.” 1874.
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A MATCH.
One of the cleverest parodies on Swinburne was written by the late Mr. Tom Hood, the younger, on the above named poem, and first appeared in Fun, whence it has frequently been copied without proper acknowledgment.
The parody will be better appreciated after reading a few stanzas of the original which, as will be observed, is written in a difficult and very uncommon metre:
IF!
As a parody this is scarcely inferior to that of Mr. Tom Hood, but the poet has let the sound run away from the sense, and has forgotten that a wit who is always a radiant wit is apt to become tiresome; whilst if “wine were always iced,” all red wines would greatly suffer, especially Port and Burgundy.
From Dublin Doggerels, by Edwin Hamilton, M.A. Dublin. C. Smyth, Dame Street. 1877.
From Lunatic Lyrics, by Alfred Greenland, Junior. London, Tinsley Brothers. 1882.
In Pictures at Play, by two Art-Critics, illustrated by Harry Furniss (Longmans, Green & Co.), a dialogue is given between a portrait of Mr. Gladstone by Frank Holl (No. 499), and a bust of the same gentleman by Albert Toft (No. 1,928). The Bust (supposed to represent Mr. Gladstone in his younger days) thus addresses the Portrait:—
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In October 1885 the English Illustrated Magazine published a short poem by Mr. Swinburne, which the Editor of the Weekly Dispatch shortly afterwards reprinted, in his competition column, and invited Parodies upon it:—
THE INTERPRETERS.
Three of the competition poems were printed in the Weekly Dispatch, October, 18, 1885, the first prize was awarded to the following:—
Highly commended:—
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The Family Herald (London) for July 28, 1888, contained an amusing article on Parodies, from which the following is an extract:
“But we wish to get away from well-trodden tracks, and we will for once forsake our usual purely didactic groove in order that we may give our readers an idea of what we regard as artistic drollery, Take this dreadful imitation of Mr. Swinburne’s manner. The parodist seems to have genuinely enjoyed his work; and we have no doubt but that Mr. Swinburne laughed as heartily as anybody. The poet is supposed to be attending a wedding of distinguished persons in Westminster Abbey, and the naughty scoffer represents him as bursting forth with the following rather alarming clarion call—
A masterpiece! And there is not a touch of malignity in the lines; the poet’s curious way of writing occasionally in the Hebraic style, his vagueness, his peculiar mode of procuring musical effects, are all picked out and shown with a smile. No one has quite equalled Caldecott, but this anonymous wit runs him hard.”
Unfortunately the author of the article omits to state the source from whence he derived the parody he praises so highly.
This Parody originally appeared in Scribner’s Monthly, May, 1881, with imitations of Bret Harte, Austin Dobson, Oliver Goldsmith, and Walt Whitman. They were afterwards republished in a volume, entitled Airs from Arcady, by H. C. Bunner. London, Charles Hutt, 1885.
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The University News Sheet. St. Andrews, N. B. March 31, 1886.
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From S. Thompson’s Collection of Poems. Chicago. 1886.
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From a scarce little pamphlet entitled “Poems and Parodies, by Two Undergrads.” Oxford. B. H. Blackwell, 1880. Price one shilling.
From an article by Mr. Justin H. McCarthy, which appeared in Belgravia (London). March, 1880.
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BALLAD OF DREAMLAND.
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The following parody appeared in The Tomahawk (London) on the occasion of a visit paid by Ada Isaacs Menken to M. Alexandre Dumas, in Paris. “Miss Menken,” who was really the wife of John C. Heenan the pugilist, will be best remembered for her appearance (in very scanty attire) as “Mazeppa,” at Astley’s Theatre. She had a fine stage appearance, but was a very indifferent actress. She published a small volume of poems, entitled Infelicia, which is now eagerly sought after by collectors, because it contains an introduction written by Charles Dickens.
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On page 9, an imitation of Mr. Swinburne’s style written by Mr. Walter Parke, was given; the following, which is a parody of Dolores, appears in “Lays of the Saintly,” (London, Vizetelly & Co.), a clever work written by the same gentleman:—
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In 1872, the late Mr. Mortimer Collins published “The British Birds, a communication from the Ghost of Aristophanes.” Extracts from this very clever satire are still often quoted. The following passages contain parodies of A. C. Swinburne, Robert Browning, and Alfred Tennyson, whose identities are thinly veiled under the names of Brow, Beard, and Hair.
Scene. In the Clouds.
Peisthetairus, discovered.
(Enter three Poets, all handsome. One hath redundant hair, a second redundant beard, a third redundant brow. They present a letter of introduction from an eminent London publisher, stating that they are candidates for the important post of Poet Laureate to the New Municipality which the Birds are about to create.)
* * * * *
The first edition of The British Birds soon went out of print, and became very scarce. But in December, 1885, Mrs. Mortimer Collins wrote a letter to the editor of Parodies, which has now a melancholy interest:—“I believe copies of British Birds can still be had at Mr. Bentley’s, as I brought out a second edition there some eight years ago. Yes, there are some parodies of Swinburne, Tennyson and Browning. But the best known bits of the book are not parodies, unless you call the whole book a parody of Aristophanes.
“The ‘Positivists’ is the most famous piece in the book, containing the lines:—
“and ‘Skymaking’ is another oft quoted bit. I thought, perhaps, that you had written parodies on these; though it seemed unlikely, because satiric verse does not lend itself to parody. I am always interested in anything connected with my husband’s works, because I truly believe in his genius. I may perhaps be somewhat partial in my judgment, for Mortimer was a more brilliant talker than writer. Day after day I enjoyed his wit, and I used to be so sorry there were not more to hear it: but he was quite content with his audience of one.
“My husband has written many parodies. If you would like to quote them I can refer you to them.”
But this kind offer of assistance was not to be fulfilled, for Mrs. Collins complained at the end of the letter of her failing strength, and in less than three months she passed away.
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A MATCH.
This Parody appeared in Punch, (June 18, 1881), at the time when the Æsthetic revival in art and literature was the subject of much undeserved ridicule, because of the absurd extent to which it was carried by a few senseless fanatics.
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The following is a parody of another favourite metre of Mr. Swinburne, which has been sent in, unfortunately without any information as to when and where it originally appeared:—
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In 1880, Messrs. Chatto and Windus, of Piccadilly, published an anonymous volume of Poems, entitled “The Heptalogia, or the seven against sense, a cap with Seven Bells.” In this there are parodies of Robert Browning, Tennyson, Coventry Patmore, and others, but it is more than doubtful whether the general public appreciated the sarcasm of these clever skits. Amongst reading men much curiosity was felt as to the author, but in answer to enquiries on the subject, the publishers replied they were not at liberty to mention the author’s name. Eventually public opinion assigned the work to Mr. Swinburne, although it contains an exquisite parody on his own style, entitled Nephelidia. This is a charming specimen of rhythmical, musical nonsense. A few of the opening lines may be quoted, without injury to themselves, or to the rest of the poem, as the conclusion is perfectly irrelevant to the beginning, or to anything else:—
Another parody, which was generally attributed to Mr. Swinburne, appeared in The Fortnightly Review for December, 1881. It was entitled “Disgust; a Dramatic Monologue,” and was a parody of Tennyson’s “Despair, a Dramatic Monologue” published in The Nineteenth Century, November, 1881.
The original poem contained arguments of a most unpleasant and absurd description, these were ably ridiculed in the burlesque, which will be found on page 184, Volume 1, of this collection.
The following parody was also printed with the initials “A. C. S.,” but clever as it is, few would venture to assert that it was actually written by Mr. Swinburne.
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In The World Christmas Number, 1879, there was an exquisite satire on Mr. Burne Jones’s art entitled “The God and the Damosel”; it was accompanied by the following verses, and a prose criticism (too long to quote in full) written in imitation of the intensely Æsthetic jargon familiar to the frequenters of the Grosvenor Gallery. To fully appreciate the poem and the criticism, the burlesque picture by Mr. E. B. T. Burnt Bones should be seen, once seen it could never be forgotten.
The Criticism.—“I have judged it good and helpful to prefix to my few words in appreciation of Mr. Bones’s noble picture this exquisite lyric of Mr. Sinburn’s. It may serve to a better understanding of the one master’s work to note in what wise it has inspired the other. The scene of Mr. Bones’s picture is a garden; the time, high noon. A damosel, tall and gracious, stands before us, clad, but ‘more expressed than hidden,’ in a robe of subtle tissue; which, loyal through three parts of its length to the lines of her sinuous figure, breaks loose round her finely-modelled knees into a riot of enchanting curves and folds; yet, withal, an orderly revolt, and obedient to its own higher law of rebellious grace. At her side stands the fatal Eros, the divine, the immortal, bow in hand, a glory of great light about his head. Behind him rise his outspread wings, which, by one of those eloquently significant touches whereof this painter possesses, one must think, the exclusive secret, are made to simulate the expanded tail of the bird of Heré. What he has here set down for us, in reporting of the lower limbs of this Immortal, he may well have noticed when he himself was last set down at his own house-door; since we see that for the knees of the young Eros of the ancients he has not disdained to study from the ancient Kab-os of the moderns. In the form of the maiden who bends towards him, quivering like a shot bird at the touch of his long lithe finger, we have another triumph of the master’s unique powers. The mere volume of her frame is, let us allow it, spare to the verge of the penurious; its curves are sudden to precipitancy, abrupt even to brusquerie; without being at all exaggerated, the charm of morbidezza is certainly insisted upon to the full limits of the admissible; but the charm is there, victorious and exultant, a voluptuousness not of the flesh, nor appealing thereto, yet a voluptuousness the more subtle and penetrating, perhaps, for that very reason. One sees that the burden of the great mystery has passed upon this woman; one sees it in the heavy-lidded eyes, in the chastened, even ascetic, lines of the face, and above all, in the thin, almost fleshless, figure consumed by inner fires, a conception only capable, perhaps, of being realised in the sympathetic imagination of a Burnt Bones. To the colour-harmonies of the whole picture I despair of doing justice. It may be remembered that I likened Mr. Bones’s last work to a cantata; this one is an oratorio, full of exquisitely tuneful fancies, grand instrumental combinations, profound contrapuntal erudition.”
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Les Poetes s’amusent.
Swinburne chez Hugo.
The Banquet of the two distinct demigods is over. The dinner, a two-franc Palais Royal feast fit for Parnassus, came off last night; and I was there ready to watch and to wink at the matchless mouthfuls of the two mighty Masters. As these disappeared amidst rich rhythm and rhapsody, I stood in a corner, note-book in hand, mutely worshipful.
There was a hungry hush, the Elder Master had a message to deliver, and catching the reporter’s eye, did not halt or hesitate.
“What,” he asked, addressing the lady presiding at the bureau behind the little plated saucers of sugar, “what is Swinburne? Is he,” he proceeded, “a costermonger? No. What then. A sweep? You cannot be a sweep without singing a Song before Sunrise. But this Swinburne has written Chastelard. That sounds like Bacon. Is he then a philosopher? Yes, and No. Which? Never mind. But there is this remarkable thing about a philosopher: he produces fruits. Sometimes they are nuts to crack, and when Civilisation has a nut to crack it holds its jaw. This is a paradox, and suggests the question, ‘Am I Civilisation?’ To this there is an answer. It is again ‘No and Yes.’ Last time it was ‘Yes and No.’ Now it is ‘No and Yes.’ Why? Is there a reason for this? None. And when there is no reason for anything, it becomes a subject of reference. To whom? To the Marines: and you cannot refer a subject to the Marines without asking them a riddle. And this is the riddle that posterity will ask them: ‘What is Victor Hugo?’”
There was a pause; but in an instant the Younger Master had sprung on to a velvet fauteuil, and, thrumming the back of an entrée dish as an impromptu lyre, with a high-piped treble cry of “I’ll tell you,” had soon sufficiently and signally silenced the Elder with the following unsung and understudied Ode:—
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In 1883, Messrs. Chatto and Windus published a small quarto volume, entitled “A Century of Roundels,” by Algernon Charles Swinburne.
Very soon afterwards, there was a parody competition on these little poems in The Weekly Dispatch, which published the following imitations on July 1, 1883.
The prize of two guineas was awarded to Mr. Henry William Hancock for:—
Highly commended.
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Christmas Mottoes.
(By Eminent Hands.)
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MARCH: AN ODE.
Another Ode To March.
(Being a Counterblast to Mr. A. C. Swinburne’s rhythmical rhapsody in the “Nineteenth Century.” By one who has certainly “learned in suffering” what he endeavours to “teach in song.”)
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In Pictures at Play (London, Longmans, Green and Co., 1888), a picture by J. W. Waterhouse, A.R.A., is supposed to sing the following parody of the “Masque of Queen Bersabe”:—
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Parodies of Mr. Swinburne’s Political Poems.
Numerous parodies have been written of Mr. Swinburne’s political poems, and of these some have already appeared in this collection.
Thus, in Volume III (p. 187), will be found Swinburne’s The Commonweal, which had originally appeared in The Times of July 1, 1886, together with four parodies upon it. And, in Volume IV. (p. 147), Swinburne’s The Question, from The Daily Telegraph, April 29, 1887, was given, together with the caustic Answer, which appeared in The Daily News of April 30, 1887.
The following parody is from Truth May 5, 1887:—
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CLEAR THE WAY!
Rail Away!
(Written by an aspiring young poet of the Neo-Billingsgate School in humble imitation of the “Clear the Way!” contributed by Mr. Swinburne to a recent number of the Pall Mall Gazette.)
It was formerly a frequent theme of Mr. Swinburne’s political verse, this violent abuse of the House of Lords:—
Have the dukes of Buccleugh, Grafton, Richmond, and St. Albans forgotten and forgiven this humorous and playful allusion to their ancestresses, Lucy Waters, Lady Castlemaine, Louise de Querouaille, and Nell Gwynne, to whom they owe their dignities and estates?
A Word for the Poet.
(The Rebuke Parodic.)
[Mr. Swinburne’s latest effusion, which has been eagerly quoted by Conservative journals, appears in “Sea Song and River Rhyme,” and is entitled “A Word for the Navy.”]
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The Banquet, a Political Satire, by Mr. George Cotterell, was published in 1885 by William Blackwood & Sons. Like most political squibs its interest was somewhat ephemeral, but it contained several amusing parodies of Tennyson, and of Swinburne. Some of those on Tennyson have already been quoted, the following extracts are taken from a parody of Swinburne’s “Dolores,” entitled
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32 In Rhymes à la Mode, by Mr. Andrew Lang (Kegan, Paul, Trench & Co., London, 1883), there are also two good parodies of Swinburne. In one, the “Palace of Bric-à-Brac,” the exquisite diction and appropriate rhythm of the “Garden of Proserpine,” are most amusingly caricatured:—
But all lovers of dainty books and quaint old world ballades will go to the fountain head to taste this stream.
Several excellent imitations of Swinburne’s style remain to be quoted from Punch, one, which appeared January 7, 1882, entitled “Clowning and Classicism,” contains some skits on Burne Jones, Oscar Wilde, and John Ruskin; another, dated December 11, 1886, commences as follows:—
The next appeared on April 23, 1887:—
“According to a certain critic,” said the Daily News in August, 1888, Mr. Swinburne “makes ‘services’ rhyme to ‘berries.’ How in the world does he manage that? Can it be in a poem on Lawn Tennis?”
Nothing exactly like this occurs in the English edition of Mr. Swinburne’s poems, but this, perhaps, shows how the thing could be done, if the poet were so inclined.”
In the course of a singularly brilliant career it is not surprising that Mr. Swinburne should have been the subject of many fierce literary attacks. The history of these feuds must await the advent of another Isaac D’Israeli to add a Chapter to the “Calamities and Quarrels of Authors”; interesting as the topic most certainly is, it cannot be dealt with here. Suffice it to say that the principal grounds for adverse criticism have been the asserted voluptuousness and immoral tendency of his romantic poems, and the inconsistency of his political writings. As an instance of the latter failing The Daily News of May 2, 1887, reprinted a poem Mr. Swinburne wrote for The Morning Star (a Radical paper, now defunct) in November 1867 in favour of the Fenians then lying under sentence of death for the murder of Serjeant Brett. This poem Mr. Swinburne had also included in his volume, Songs before Sunrise, published in 1871, and it certainly presents a marked contrast to his recent utterances on the Irish question.
As to the alleged immoral tendency of his works much has been written, and by many pens, one of the bitterest of his assailants being Mr. Robert Williams Buchanan, whose own early writings were, most assuredly, open to adverse criticism on the same ground.
In his little work entitled, “The Fleshly School of Poetry,” published in 1872, Mr. Buchanan not only 33 attacked Swinburne, but he was also most malignant in his criticisms of the poems of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, one of the kindest, gentlest, and purest of men. The controversy this aroused raged for some years, and the last word was only spoken when Mr. Edmund Yates published his article on “A Scrofulous Scotch Poet,” severely castigating Mr. Buchanan, in The World, September 26, 1877. Long prior to this, the following verses relating to Swinburne, had been attributed to Buchanan. It is doubtful whether in 1866 Mr. Swinburne’s name was sufficiently established to entitle him to a place in such distinguished company as is here mentioned.
THE SESSION OF THE POETS.
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Although this collection is avowedly confined to Parodies which have previously appeared in print, it will be readily understood that numbers of original parodies are sent in, of which but a very small proportion can be inserted.
Some amusing incidents occur, thus a short time ago a gentlemen sent from Scotland the M.S.S. of new and original burlesques on Hamlet and Othello, the first containing about 850 lines, and the second about double that number. The author earnestly requested they should be inserted in Parodies, but whether he had succeeded in getting any “new and original” fun out of such fresh and lively topics as Hamlet and Othello, the world will never be able to judge through this medium.
Another, and almost equally humorous request was worded as follows:—“I enclose a parody on Mr. Algernon Swinburne’s Dolores in the form of an encomium on ‘Someone’s Essence of Something’ which is absurdly close to some of the original verses. If you accept it please send proof and remuneration to me at above address.”
It so happened that this parody was not devoid of literary merit, but the author was presuming a little too much in expecting to get a puff inserted gratis, and to be paid for it in the bargain.
A verse or two will suffice to indicate the author’s treatment of the topic:—
The remainder of this Poem will be inserted with full details as to price, and number of cures effected, on receipt of the customary advertisement fee.
Another correspondent kindly sent in a lengthy rhymed criticism of Swinburne’s style, commencing as follows:—
End of Parodies on A. C. Swinburne.
VERNON AVICK.
Dedicated without permission to the Author of “Father
O’Flynn,” by the Author of “The Blarney Ballads.”
Mr. George R. Sims was born in London on September 2nd, 1847. He was educated first, at Hanwell College, and subsequently at Bonn.
In 1874 Mr. Sims joined the staff of Fun, and about the same time he also became connected with the Weekly Dispatch, to which he communicated the humorous papers, entitled: “Mary Jane’s Memoirs.”
Since 1877 he has written much in The Referee, over the pseudonym of “Dagonet,” and most of his Ballads, which have now a worldwide fame, first appeared in the columns of that journal.
As a dramatic author Mr. Sims has also been both prolific and successful. “Crutch and Toothpick,” “Mother-in-Law,” “The Member for Slocum,” “The Gay City,” “The Half-Way House,” “The Lights o’ London,” “The Romany Rye,” and “The Merry Duchess,” are titles well-known to every modern play-goer.
Judging by the vast amount of work in essays, dramas, and poems, produced by Mr. Sims, he must be possessed of extraordinary energy, powerful imagination, and of rapid composition. Some of his prose articles and ballads display an intimate knowledge of the inner life of the miserable, and the poor of London, such as could only have been acquired by one having keen powers of observation, after considerable time spent in the haunts of dirt, danger, and disease.
In short, since Dickens left us, no writer has been so successful in this difficult and trying branch of literature, and Dickens himself was never so popular, nor were his works so widely read by the people as are those of Mr. Sims.
Although there is much that is both droll and humorous in his prose writings, the principal feature in his Ballads is homely pathos, of which the following poem is one of the best known examples.
It is one of the Ballads of Babylon (London. John P. Fuller, 1880), and is given by Mr. Sims’s kind permission:—
OSTLER JOE.
In 1886, Mrs. James Brown Potter recited this poem at a soirée given in the house of Mr. Secretary Whitney, in Washington, U.S.A., before a large company of ladies and gentlemen. During the recital some of the ladies rose and left the room; the New York papers spitefully remarked of those ladies who remained to hear the poem to the end, that, being in evening dress, they were observed to blush almost down to their waists.
The poem was severely criticised in several of the prudish American papers, and assigned by some of them to the pen of A. C. Swinburne, although as unlike his style as anything could well be.
The controversy that arose created a tremendous demand for the poem, and many thousands of copies were sold in a few days, from which however, the author derived no benefit whatever, owing to the disgraceful state of the international copyright, or want of copyright.
37 As Mrs. Kendal has recited the poem in public on several occasions, it may be taken for granted that it contains nothing indelicate, or objectionable, although the outcry raised in the States was so great that the principal newspapers took sides on the question, and debated the merits of the poem with almost as much heat as a Presidential Election. One well-known humorist attempted to ridicule “Ostler Joe” in the following ballad:—
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BILLY’S ROSE.
Another Parody of “Billy’s Rose” appeared in The Umpire (Manchester) 30 September, 1888. But it does not follow the original very closely, and is rather too coarse to be inserted.
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THE LIGHTS OF LONDON TOWN.
See Ballads of Babylon. London. John P. Fuller. 1880.
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Truth for October 14th, 1886, contained half-a-dozen ballads written in the style of Mr. Sims’s poems. The three following may be quoted as interesting imitations, but it will be seen that they do not parody any particular poem:—
45 The pathetic ballads of Mr. Sims are frequently chosen for recitation, and good parodies of them are much sought after, as a relief to the overwrought feelings of the auditors.
There is a recitation written by Mr. Richard H. Douglass, which is often given by him with success, entitled “Christmas Day in the Beer-house.”
In its opening lines it somewhat resembles Mr. Sims’s “Christmas Day in the Workhouse,” but it does not follow that poem sufficiently to be styled a parody, and is, moreover, rather coarse in its style.
Every one remembers “The Manual for Young Reciters,” which appeared in Punch in 1887, and has since been issued in a small volume, entitled “Burglar Bill,” by J. Anstey, (London, Bradbury, Agnew & Co.) Two of the papers contained in this are imitations of Mr. Sims; Burglar Bill is one, but a far more amusing specimen is A Coster’s Conversion. A poor harmless costermonger relates how he
Whilst he is away in durance vile some well meaning, but mistaken, philanthropist converts his wife to Æstheticism, and on his return to his humble roof, he is much amazed, and by no means pleased, with the alterations made in his home:—
This appeared originally in Punch, May 14, 1887.
Mr. Sims has recently published (London, Chatto and Windus) The Dagonet Reciter, which contains most of the poems which have been referred to in this Collection, “Ostler Joe,” “The Life-boat,” “Keeping Christmas” etc., as well as a selection of his humorous prose writings.
Before leaving this author, there remains a parody of his to be quoted, it should have appeared in Volume IV., which contained other parodies of “The Lost Chord.”
The following Volunteer parody, of the same original, recently appeared in the First Lanark Gazette.—
Many poems written by this distinguished dramatic critic are chosen for recitation, notably “The Women of Mumbles Head” which is to be found in “Lays of a Londoner” (London, Carson and Comerford, 1886.) A very funny parody of this, entitled “The Wreck of the Steamship ‘Puffin,’” is in Burglar Bill, by J. Anstey, and would form an amusing contrast to the original, in the second part of an entertainment.
Another well-known poem by Mr. Clement Scott was the Tale of the Tenth Hussars, in favour of the late Colonel Valentine Baker, which originally appeared in Punch, and was quoted, with a parody on it, on p. 87, vol. iv. Parodies.
In dealing with Parodies of the works of living authors, the chief difficulty to contend with is, that some of the parodies may read rather flat and uninteresting to those who are unacquainted with the original poem.
Such familiar poems as Lord Tennyson’s “May Queen,” or “Lady Clara Vere-de-Vere,” it would of course be quite unnecessary to reprint, but now that more modern poems are under consideration it is desirable to give such of the originals as can be inserted, with the authors’ express permission. Hitherto the necessary authority has been gracefully accorded, and, in several instances, supplemented by valuable bibliographical information. Thus showing that some of the leading poets of the day recognise the value of this Collection as a literary record, and fully appreciate the strict line that is drawn to exclude vulgar, personal, or malicious lampoons.
In accordance therefore with the usual custom, a courteously worded letter was sent to Mr. Robert Browning, asking his permission to quote a few extracts from his shorter poems, with the assurance that no offensive parody of his works should be inserted.
Mr. Browning’s reply was to the effect that as he disapproved of every kind of Parody he refused permission to quote any of his poems, adding in somewhat ungracious language, that his publishers would be instructed to see that his wishes were complied with.
Perhaps the world does not greatly care whether Mr. Browning approves of Parody, or does not; neither can he very well expect that the completeness of this Collection should be sacrificed in deference to his distaste for a harmless branch of literature which has amused many of our greatest authors, and best of men. Byron and Scott could laugh at the Rejected Addresses, and enjoy a merry jest, even at their own expense, but let no dog bark when the great Sir Oracle opens his lips, and no daring humourist venture to travesty the poems of Mr. Robert Browning!
This injunction comes rather late, for numerous parodies of his works have already been written, of which some of the best must be included here. It is to be hoped that the perusal of them may induce some readers to seek in the originals those beauties which herein are only dimly shadowed forth.
Mr. Robert Browning was born at Camberwell in 1812, and educated at the London University. In September 1846, he married Miss Elizabeth 47 Barrett, the poetess (who died in 1861), by whom he had one son, Mr. Robert Browning, the well-known artist.
HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX.
This is probably the best known of Mr. Browning’s earlier poems, it is given in Bell’s Standard Elocutionist, and various other collections.
On January 23, 1882, Mr. Browning wrote to the Oracle—“There is no sort of historical foundation for the poem about ‘Good News from Ghent.’ I wrote it under the bulwark of a vessel, off the African coast, after I had been at sea long enough to appreciate even the fancy of a gallop on the back of a certain good horse, ‘York,’ then in my stable at home.
“It was written in pencil on the fly-leaf of Bartolio’s ‘Simboli,’ I remember.”
This Poem was chosen as the original for a Parody Competition in The World, and the two following parodies appeared in that entertaining journal on August 13, 1879.
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THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
This poem is given in full in The Comic Poets of the Nineteenth Century, published by Routledge & Sons, London. It has been the subject of several political parodies, one of the best being that which appeared in Punch, May 1, 1880, entitled “The Bagpiper of Midlothian.” This described how the Liberals in Midlothian despaired of their cause, and the Tories were jubilant, when suddenly Wandering Willie the Piper appeared.
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Parodies of Mr. Browning’s poem “Wanting is—What?” in Jocoseria.
The following imitation, written by Miss Fitzpatrick, appeared in the Red Dragon Magazine, (Cardiff), September, 1884:—
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THE LOST LEADER
* * * * *
The Latest News.
[The young ladies of Girton have given up their Browning Society, and expended the funds thereof on the purchase of chocolate.]
51 And on April 17, 1886 Punch had also a parody founded on this topic of the Girton Ladies, containing the following verses:—
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THE PATRIOT.
Another parody also appeared in Punch, July 24, 1886, entitled:—
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Two parodies of the same poem appeared in Punch, one on April 14, 1883, the other on June 7, 1888.
These can be readily obtained at Punch office, as also the following: “The Losing Leader” Punch, July 26, 1884. “Stanley,” after Waring, Punch, June 2, 1888.
“Gladstone Unmasked” which appeared in Punch as long ago as 1866, was written by the late Shirley Brooks, as a parody on Browning. The poem, which is long and quite out of date now, may be found in “Wit and Humour” by Shirley Brooks, London, 1883.
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The above burlesque sonnet is given in Mr. John H. Ingram’s biography of “Oliver Madox Brown,” although it is doubtful whether that talented young poet was the author of it or what it means.
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Mr. Browning wrote the following elegant and luminous lines for the window in honour of Her Majesty’s Jubilee, presented by the parishioners to St. Margaret’s, Westminster:—
A correspondent, who is not a member of the Browning Society, thinks that the following quatrain might be substituted,—
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On page 103, Volume 5 of this Collection some extracts were given from “The Poets at Tea” a series of short parodies which appeared in The Cambridge Fortnightly, for February 7, 1888. The three following verses, which were then omitted, may be given here:—
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Of Mr. Browning’s later poetry, or, what may be termed his involved and complicated style, some excellent parodies exist. They are rather long, and would be somewhat tedious reading to those who are unfamiliar with the originals; as the books in which most of these parodies occur are easily obtainable a few extracts will suffice.
First, may be mentioned Diversions of the Echo Club, an American work written by the late Mr. Bayard Taylor, published, in London, by Chatto and Windus.
This contains no less than four imitations of Robert Browning’s poetry, they are all good, but perhaps the following is the most characteristic in style:—
Leading Cases done into English, by an Apprentice of Lincoln’s Inn. London, Macmillan & Co. 1876. This amusing little volume (said to be the work of Mr. Pollock) contains a case, entitled Scott v. Shepherd, which is reported in true Browningese diction:—
It is usually considered that The Cock and the Bull, by the late C. S. Calverley, is the best parody extant of Robert Browning’s “The Ring and the Book,” the following are the opening lines:—
From Fly Leaves, by C. S. Calverley. London. George Bell & Sons.
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In The Heptalogia (Chatto and Windus, 1880) there is an imitation of Browning, entitled “John Jones,” and in Recaptured Rhymes, by H. D. Traill (W. Blackwood and Sons, 1882) there is a parody from “The Puss and the Boots.” These cannot be quoted in full, and extracts would convey little idea of the humour of the pieces. The latter (by Mr. Traill) is modelled somewhat upon Mr. Calverley’s “Cock and the Bull.”
In July 1888, The Family Herald (London) had a long article on parodies, which contained some amusing examples, but the writer of the article committed the unpardonable literary crime of not giving references to the authorities from whom he quoted. His note on Robert Browning’s poetry, and his parodies, is given below:—
“Mr. Browning is far too great a man to be mentioned lightly; but we must own that to some natures his later work is distasteful, and even repulsive. His early poetry ranks among the highest in English; and, if we were compelled to write down the names of, say, six poems which we regard as the best in the language, two of the six—“The Last Ride Together” and “The Flight of the Duchess”—would be Mr. Browning’s. Perhaps he is too great now to be content with mere brilliant work that haunts the memory for life, and inspires the innermost soul. If so, we are sorry, for we would not give the two poems which we have named, with perhaps the “Ride from Ghent to Aix,” for a library of exasperating Sordellos. We cannot cure Mr. Browning, and we must be content to endure him for the sake of old times. The great, crabbed, formless poet gives the buffoons a rare innings; for his jagged, ramshackle blank verse, with its conjunctions protruding at the ends of lines, its parentheses, its small jokes, its puns, its pedantic display of useless learning, its aimless wanderings, its half-hints, all tend to make the reader feel as if he were taking a little walk with a halting cripple who persisted in digging him in the ribs, and kicking up dust before his eyes. When we get a gleam of lucidity from Browning, he is matchless; but he refuses to write plain English and so the parodists have him on the hip. Here is a parody by a skilled craftsman who handles the poet with affection—
The strange thing is that the rickety stuff above is a perfectly fair burlesque. The cadence—or lack of cadence—the horrid involutions, the breaks into bald dulness, are all Browning’s to the very essence.”
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This is not the place in which to enter upon a dissertation on the style of Mr. Robert Browning. Profundity of thought is not necessarily accompanied by obscurity of language, and yet the admirers of Mr. Browning contend that it is precisely in those poems which are the most difficult to understand, that his chief excellencies are to be found. Hence several “Browning Societies” have been started for the express purpose of explaining this obscure writer to persons of only average intelligence. Now a Homer society, or a Shakespeare society, one can understand, these poets are dead and cannot be appealed to, for the solution of doubtful readings, or confused passages. But Mr. Browning is alive and well, and should be able, if he were willing, to clear up the meaning of any obscurity in his own writings. Were he to do this, however, a few amiable hero-worshippers, and fussy founders of Societies, would lose their vocation, and perhaps the public would not greatly gain.
Many anecdotes are told of Browning’s obscurity.
When Douglas Jerrold was recovering from a severe illness, Browning’s “Sordello” was put into his hands. Line after line, page after page, he read; but no consecutive idea could he get from the mystic production. Mrs. Jerrold was out, and he had no one to whom to appeal. The thought struck him that he had lost his reason during his illness, and that he was so imbecile that he did not know it. A perspiration burst from his brow, and he sat silent and thoughtful. As soon as his wife returned he thrust the mysterious volume into her hands, crying out: “Read this, my dear.” After several attempts to make any sense out of the first page or so, she gave back the book, saying: “Bother the gibberish! I don’t understand a word of it!” “Thank heaven!” cried Jerrold, “then I am not an idiot!”
The Browning Society.
A Bitter Error.
A long haired man, with a look of unutterable yearning in his deep set eyes, stole into the well filled auditorium, and took a seat in the rear pew. He listened to the speaker with the closest attention, and seemed to derive the most intense enjoyment from words which were incomprehensible to the majority of the audience.
“Magnificent! sublime!” he was heard to murmur.
55 “You understand him, sir?” inquired the man next the long haired stranger.
“Perfectly, perfectly. Did you ever hear anything more”—
“But I can’t understand a word he says.”
“Indeed! You are to be pitied. Ah, this seems like home. You see, I arrived from New York only an hour ago, and happening to hear of this meeting came here at once.”
“It is not possible that you are a Chinaman?”
“A Chinaman! What do you mean, Sir? I am from Boston.”
“From Boston, eh? How is it that you understand Chinese?”
“I don’t understand Chinese, sir. What do you mean?”
“Why, the man who is speaking is a missionary who has just returned from Hong Kong, and he is exhibiting his proficiency in the Chinese language by reading a chapter in the Bible in that tongue.”
The Bostonian’s face paled.
“Why,” he gasped, “isn’t this a Browning Club?”
“Certainly not.”
“And isn’t he reading one of the great master’s”—
“Great Scott, no! The Browning club is on the next floor.”
Then the sad eyed man arose and staggered thence, a hopeless, despairing look in his fathomless orbs.
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The refinement of taste which has marked the second half of the nineteenth century has been highly favourable to the production of the lighter forms of poetry, and no other age has been so prolific in writers of vers-de-société and of those other more exotic forms of composition known as Ballades, Rondeaus, and Villanelles.
It is true that Praed, who led the way as the writer of vers-de-société, died fifty years ago, but for one who now reads Praed, there are twenty who know by heart the poems of Frederick Locker.
And there can be no hesitation in assigning him the leading position amongst those of our living Poets who write to please, and instruct, by their playful wit, gentle satire, and tender pathos, without deeming it necessary to compose sermons in epics, or poems which require as much labour to disentangle as to solve a problem of Euclid.
Mr. Frederick Locker, for in that name he achieved fame, was born in 1821, coming of an old and distinguished Kentish family. His father was a Civil Commissioner of Greenwich Hospital, and his grandfather was the Captain W. Locker, R. N., under whom both Lord Nelson and Lord Collingwood served. Lord Nelson attributed much of his success in battle to the maxim inculcated by his old commander, “Lay a Frenchman close, and you will beat him.”
Captain Locker died Lieutenant-Governor of Greenwich Hospital.
The literary career of Mr. Frederick Locker has been so uniformly successful that there is little to recount.
His original poems were mostly published in the magazines, until in 1857 he issued his volume entitled “London Lyrics.” The first edition, which is now very scarce, and much sought after by collectors, had a frontispiece by George Cruikshank. This book has passed through many editions, and is now published by Kegan Paul, Trench and Co., London.
In 1867, Mr. Locker published “Lyra Elegantiarum,” containing a collection of the best English vers-de-société, with an introduction in which he enumerated the qualifications which should be possessed by any poet who aspired to produce perfect specimens of vers-de-société.
Mr. Locker-Lampson has also written a few humorous parodies, one of which, “Unfortunate Miss Bailey,” was given p. 47, Vol. I., Parodies.
It only remains to be said that in the following pages the extracts from his poems are inserted by the kind permission of Mr. Locker-Lampson.
One of his best known poems, “St. James’s Street,” was published in 1867. This was stolen, and spoiled in the 56 stealing, by a piratical editor, the two versions are here given side by side:—
ST. JAMES’S STREET.
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TEMPORA MUTANTUR!
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BRAMBLE-RISE.
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AN INVITATION TO ROME
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FROM THE CRADLE.
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The proverb that “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” is somewhat the worse for wear, and perhaps Mr. Austin Dobson was not altogether inclined to agree with it when he heard that the Puzzle Editor of Truth had published the following notification:
“Truth” Puzzle, No. 472.
Thanks to the efforts of Messrs. Austin Dobson, Andrew Lang, and others, Triolets, Ballades, Rondeaux, Vilanelles, and other metrical devices used by Villon and other French poets of the past, have been freely adapted to English verse-writing, and I am assured that I shall be setting numerous competitors an agreeable task in asking them to write a rhyming composition on one of the revived French models now so fashionable.
The Prize of Two Guineas will accordingly be given for the Best Ballade, written on any Social Subject, in accordance with the following rules:—The Ballade in its normal type, consists of three stanzas of eight lines each, followed by a verse of four lines, which is called the “envoy”—or of three verses of ten lines, with an “envoy” of five lines, each of the stanzas and the “envoy” closing with the same line, known as the “refrain.” In this instance, a Ballade of the former length is asked for—viz.; one with three eight-lined stanzas and a four-lined “envoy.” But it will be, perhaps, a better guide for competitors if I print here a Ballade as a model on which they are to form the ones they compose. Here, then, is a well-known Ballade by Mr. Austin Dobson, which must be followed so far as the arrangement of rhymes goes. The metre, though, of the Ballade often varies, and competitors are not bound to use the same metre as that employed in the subjoined specimen.
ON A FAN THAT BELONGED TO THE MARQUISE DE POMPADOUR.
A very large number of replies were sent in, and examples were printed in Truth, February 23, and March 8, 1888. Although they cannot be called true parodies, yet two of the Ballades are so interesting as imitations that they are inserted. The first being that to which the prize was awarded, written by Mr. J. C. Woods, of Swansea, and the second written by Mr. F. B. Doveton, of Eastbourne.
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Of the other examples that were printed it must suffice to mention the titles:—
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TU QUOQUE.
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The revival of the taste for these curious old French forms of poetry has received a great impetus from the delightful examples produced by Austin Dobson, Edmund Gosse, W. E. Henley, Andrew Lang, R. Le Gallienne, J. Ashby-Sterry, A. C. Swinburne, C. H. Waring and Oscar Wilde.
The composition of all poetry in the English language is governed by clearly defined rules, and although a man ignorant of these rules, if gifted with a fine ear, and original conceptions, may produce a pretty song or ballad, it is very rare indeed that any truly great work is composed, which is not written in accordance with certain regulations as to metre and rhyme.
In ordinary poetry these restrictions allow of great variations in style and treatment, but it is far otherwise when any of the old French poetical fashions are selected; then the rules are exact and peremptory, and for each of the following varieties, the form is clearly defined, and perfectly distinct. They are the Ballade, Chant Royal, Kyrielle, Pantoum, Rondeau Redoublé, Rondel, Rondeau, Sicilian Octave, Triolet, and Villanelle, with a few minor forms.
It is quite beyond the scope of this collection to formulate the rules governing the composition of these poetic trifles, nor indeed is it necessary, for Mr. Gleeson White’s charming little book on the subject is readily accessible, and contains nearly all that can be said about it. It is entitled Ballades and Rondeaus, selected, with a chapter on the various forms, by Gleeson White. London, Walter Scott, 1887.
The editor’s name is sufficient to indicate that the selections are the best that could be chosen, and the introductory essay is, in itself, a distinct gain to our literature, treating as it does, of a somewhat exotic branch of poetry. Mr. Gleeson White is very much in earnest, and although he inserts a few burlesques it is evident that he regards them as desecrations of his favourite metres.
To the Parodist nothing is sacred, but whilst some of the following parodies are quoted from Mr. White’s collection, those who would wish to read the originals must refer to the work itself.
In Punch (October 22, 1887) there was a set of verses (in honour of Mr. White’s book) written in the various metres described, and one of each of these may fitly lead the several varieties here dealt with.
THE MUSE IN MANACLES.
(By an Envious and Irritable Bard, after reading “Ballades and Rondeaus,” just published, and wishing he could do anything like any of them.)
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In an amusing little collection of poems quite recently published, there are several parodies and three ballades, all on legal topics, from which the following extracts are quoted by the kind permission of Messrs. Reeves and Turner. The title of the book is The Lays of a Limb of the Law, by the late John Popplestone, Town Clerk of Stourmouth, edited by Edmund B. V. Christian. London: Reeves and Turner, 1889. It contains Law Reports in the shape of parodies of Cowper’s “Alexander Selkirk;” of Pope’s translation of Homer, “The Splendid Shilling,” and of other poems in a manner somewhat similar to those contained in Professor Frederick Pollock’s well-known, but scarce little work, “Leading Cases Done into English.”
Of the three ballades perhaps the following is the best:—
Ballade of Old Law Books.
“I am improving my legal knowledge, Master Copperfield, said Uriah. ‘I am going through Tidd’s Practice. Oh, what a writer Mr. Tidd is, Master Copperfield.’”
The first verse of each of the other two ballades will suffice:—
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THE VILLANELLE.
Such was Mr. Punch’s opinion of this delicious form of verse, which must be complete in nineteen lines, arranged as above. The accepted model is the following old French Villanelle by Jean Passerat:
Of modern English specimens one of the most beautiful is that by Mr. Austin Dobson “When I saw you last, Rose,” which is given in Mr. White’s book, together with a French translation of it by M. J. Boulmier.
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THE TRIOLET.
The Triolet, which should consist of eight lines, but only two rhymes, is more often met with in French literature than in our own; the following old specimen was christened by Ménage le roi des Triolets:—
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THE RONDEAU.
The following humorous paraphrase was written, some years since, by Mr. Austin Dobson:—
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BEHOLD THE DEEDS!
(Chant Royal.)
An American Parody.
[Being the Plaint of Adolphe Culpepper Ferguson, Salesman of Fancy Notions, held in durance of his Landlady for a failure to connect on Saturday night.]
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About ten years ago London Society was divided into two hostile Camps, one known as the Æsthetes, the other as the Philistines. Neither title was correct, nor very expressive, but each conveyed a certain meaning which even now could not be briefly expressed in more simple language.
The Æsthetes were originally a small body of artists and poets, belonging to what was called the Pre-Raphaelite school, who strove to educate the English people up to a certain standard in art and culture.
All the men who founded this school subsequently became eminent in their professions, but they were, for many years, subjected to the ridicule and criticisms of the Philistines.
Yet it is probable that most of this opposition was directed less against the men of genius who actually created Pre-Raphaelitism, than against those too ardent devotees of the new fashion, who carried all its dictates to the extreme, and frequently turned the true and the beautiful into the absurd and grotesque by their exaggerations in dress, language, and deportment.
On the other hand many of the opponents of Æstheticism were those who having seen Du Maurier’s caricatures in Punch, and witnessed Burnand’s vamped up old comedy The Colonel, or Gilbert & Sullivan’s Patience, thought themselves fully qualified to jeer at the “consummate” the “utter” and the “too-too,” without having either read a poem by Swinburne, or Morris, or having seen a painting by Burne-Jones or Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
This opposition did some good in its day, for although Æstheticism eventually triumphed, only the beautiful that it created has survived, the lank and melancholy maidens, and the “Grosvenor-Gallery” young men, have departed, but the revival—the Renaissance in fact—of British Art in Painting, poetry, dress, decoration, and even in house furniture, is an accomplished fact. Much has been written, and remains to be written, on this fascinating topic, but this collection cannot be made the medium for Lectures on Art.
At the risk of appearing egotistical the following little work can be mentioned as conveying useful information on a subject which is certainly worthy of some little study:—
“The Æsthetic Movement in England,” by Walter Hamilton. Third edition—London. Reeves and Turner, 1882.
Without further preface a selection of parodies will be given on the works of Rossetti, who was not only a founder of the school, but also one of its most eminent exponents.
Born May 12, 1828. | Died April 9, 1882.
There was a particular metre much affected by this great artist and poet, of which perhaps the best example to be found is in his weird “Sister Helen,” which has been frequently parodied. It commences thus:—
This, and other poems by Rossetti, such as Eden Bower, and Troy Town, only revived a very old fashion—the ballad with a refrain or burden.
But when once it was revived so many indifferent poets attempted to utter their little insipidities in the ballad style, that the parodists soon caught the infection. One gentleman furbished up a tremendous ballad which resembled nothing so much as the cry of a costermonger, for its burden, oft repeated, was—
“Apple, and orange, and nectarine,”
whilst one of the evening papers published the following satire on Rossetti’s style:—
For the remainder of this exquisite parody, readers are referred to Mr. H. D. Traill’s Recaptured Rhymes (London, W, Blackwood & Sons, 1882), in which work it was republished.
The same paper, for May 23, 1885, contained another very funny parody of Rossetti; but unfortunately it was too suggestive to bear republication here.
It was reserved, however, for that prince of Parodists, Charles S. Calverley, to make the ballad with a refrain supremely ridiculous:—
In the second part of this pathetic composition the poet thus describes the melancholy sequel:—
When Mr. Calverley composed this burlesque Ballad (which is to be found in full in his Fly Leaves, published by G. Bell & Sons), it is probable that he was thinking of 72 one by Mr. Morris, entitled “Two Red Roses across the Moon” commencing “There was a lady liv’d in a hall,” and ending with the refrain which forms the title.
Having once shown how it could be done, other comic writers followed suit, and the burlesque ballads in this style are almost too numerous to be quoted.
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(This talented young author died in 1877, at the early age of thirty-two. The above parody originally appeared in Yorick, to accompany a cartoon by Harry Furniss.)
As recently as October 20, 1888, Punch had a similar parody entitled
Agriculture’s Latest Rôle.
(A Bucolic Ballad, with a Borrowed Refrain, Dedicated to the British Dairy Farmers’ Association,)
73 One of the most ridiculous features of the so-called Æsthetic movement was, that a number of brainless noodles set to work to write poetry in serious imitation of Swinburne, Rossetti, and Oscar Wilde. The style was a mixture of mediæval Italian and middle English, and the one principle which guided the dolorous singers was, “We must not have any meaning, or, at any rate, the less the better.” “My lady” was addressed in all kinds of rhymes, “Love” was held responsible for legions of complicated woes, green eyes, golden eyes—even orbs “like a cat’s splendid circled eye” were quite in fashion. The recipe for this description of poetry was—Begin with an address to your lady; never mind if you have not one, for that is a mere detail. Represent her as bewitching you with the unutterably weary gaze of her eyes—or eyne—“eyne” is preferable; stick in an old word like “teen” or “drouth” or “wot” or “sooth” or “wearyhead” or “wanhope;” break out with “Lo!” and “Yea!” and “Nay!” and “Ah!” at brief intervals, and be sure to have a weird refrain. This humbug held its own for a while, but a few unsparing satirists dealt with this dreary small-fry of art, and the following, one of the most delightful modern jests was prompted by the school:—
This masterly balderdash has imposed on many people; and the most comic thing in the world is to see an earnest person endeavouring to discover hidden meanings in it.
“John Bull” (a London newspaper) for November 8, 1879, contained a long article from which only the following brief notes can be quoted:—
Immortal Pictures.
Mr. Rossetti has painted a picture, and in an unguarded moment permitted the Athenæum to describe it in the following language.—[Extract given in full.]
Apropos of the above fragment of art-criticism, a correspondent sends us the following analysis (clipped from a rival journal) of another remarkable picture:—
“It is better to speak the truth at once, and to say that we have in Mr. Symphony Priggins a master as great as the greatest; and in this picture the master-piece of a master; and in this episode of a picture the masterstroke of a master’s master-piece. The sublimity of Buonaroti, the poetic fervour of Raffaelle, the tremulous intensity of Sandro Botticelli, the correggiosity of Correggio have never raised these masters to higher heights than our own Priggins has attained in this transcendent rendering of the Dish running away with the Spoon.
“The artist, like some others of his craft, is, as is known, a poet of no mean pretensions; and he has set forth the inner meaning of his picture in the following lines, which form the motto on its frame:—”
No one we imagine, would have been dull enough to have missed the allegory of Mr. Priggins’ great picture even without such exposition; but many, perhaps, will only feel it after this its setting forth in “perfect music matched with noble words.”
The following rather more serious imitation of Rossetti is from “The Diversions of the Echo Club” by Bayard Taylor. Mr. Taylor remarks that Rossetti’s poetry is encumbered with the burden of colour, sensuous expression, and mediæval imagery and drapery; but he forgot to mention that Rossetti wrote as an artist, and that some of his finest poems were written to accompany, and to elucidate, certain of his own pictures.
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THE LEAF.
Those who have read Rossetti’s lines, commencing
will remember that he gives them as translated from Leopardi. It is, however, rather curious that Rossetti does not seem to have noticed that Leopardi headed his little poem “Imitazione” thus distinctly disclaiming the authorship.
The following is Leopardi’s version:—
Leopardi translated these lines from a collection of fables by A. V. Arnault, Paris, 1826, where they are styled:—
These lines had been previously translated into English, before Rossetti, by Macaulay, as follows:—
Before leaving Rossetti mention must be made of a singular series of illustrated parodies which appeared in Punch, March 3, 10, 17, 24 and 31, 1866. The illustrations, by Du Maurier, seem to have been intended partly to ridicule Burne Jones’s style, and partly that of Rossetti; as to the poem, it is of the ultra weird and sensational ballad form, with a slight dash of the “Lady of Shalott” thrown in, and the inevitable refrain, popularly supposed to be inseparable from Pre-raffaelite art.
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The following beautiful sonnet written by Miss Christina Rossetti, sister of D. G. Rossetti, appears in “Goblin Market and other Poems,” published by Macmillan & Co., 1879:
REMEMBER.
This appears to be almost the only poem by Miss Rossetti which has tempted the mocking-bird to sing.
From The Light Green. Cambridge, W. Metcalf and Sons, 1872.
The author of “The Earthly Paradise” is much more than a mere poet, he is a thorough man of business, who works as an art designer, and lectures on the social improvement of the people. His poetry was thus amusingly criticised in London, 1877:—
There are not many good parodies of Mr. Morris, the following is one of the best, though where it first appeared, or by whom it was written, cannot be stated:—
It would be useless to attempt to give any parodies on the poems of Mr. Oscar Wilde without prefacing them with some account, however brief, of his career. In a few of the skits the allusions are already out of date, and in a short time the reasons will be quite forgotten that led to the silly ridicule and misrepresentations of which Mr. Oscar Wilde, as the Apostle of Æstheticism, was formerly the object.
Mr. Oscar O’Flahertie Wills Wilde was born in Dublin on October 15, 1856. His father, Sir William R. Wilde, was an eminent surgeon, and a man of literary tastes and great archæological learning.
In 1851 Sir William (then Mr.) Wilde married a granddaughter of Archdeacon Elgee, of Wexford, a lady well known in literary circles in Dublin as having written many poems which were published in the Nation newspaper at the time of the political excitement in 1848. They appeared over the nom de plume “Speranza,” and were afterwards published in a collected form, entitled “Poems by Speranza.”
Mr. Oscar Wilde early developed talents such as might have been expected in the son of highly gifted parents. Having spent about a year at Portora Royal School, Enniskillen, Mr. Wilde studied for a year at Trinity College, Dublin, where he obtained a classical scholarship at the early age of sixteen, and in 1874, won the Berkeley Gold Medal for Greek, the topic selected for that year being the Greek Comic Poets. Thence he went to Magdalen College, Oxford, where he obtained a first scholarship.
He soon began to show his taste for art and china, and before he had been at Oxford very long, his rooms were the show of the college, and of the university too. He was fortunate enough to obtain the best situated rooms in the college, on what is called the kitchen staircase, having a lovely view over the river Cherwell and the beautiful Magdalen walks, and Magdalen bridge. His rooms were three in number, and the walls were entirely panelled. The two sitting rooms were connected by an arch, where folding doors had at one time stood. His blue china was supposed by connoisseurs to be very valuable and fine, and there was plenty of it. He was hospitable, and on Sunday nights after “Common Room,” his rooms were generally the scene of conviviality, where undergraduates of all descriptions and tastes were to be met, drinking punch, or a B. and S. with their cigars. It was at one of these entertainments that he made his well-known remark, “Oh, that I could live up to my blue china!”
Besides minor scholarships, he took the Newdigate, a prize for English verse, in 1878, and a first in Literis Humanioribus, after which he took his degree.
During this period he produced a number of poems, these were published, some in The Month, others in the Catholic Monitor, and the Irish Monthly. A number of his short poems also appeared in Kottabos, a small magazine written by members of Trinity College, Dublin.
The first number of Mr. Edmund Yates’s Time, April 1879, contained a short poem by Oscar Wilde, entitled “The Conqueror of Time,” and to the July number he contributed “The New Helen.” Some of the foregoing poems, with others not previously published, appeared in a volume, entitled “Poems” by Oscar Wilde, published in 1881 by David Bogue, which speedily ran through several editions.
When referring to this volume in “The Æsthetic Movement in England” mention was made of Mr. Wilde’s exquisite little poem
concerning which Mr. G. A. Sala wrote to the Editor (on August 17, 1882.) “I note your book for a proximate ‘Echo.’ I have not read Oscar Wilde’s poems, but in the very sweet stanzas (‘Requiescat’) which you quote, I mark a singular passage:—
Golden hair (experto crede) does not tarnish in the tomb. Read the last paragraph in Zola’s Nana, which physiologically, is astoundingly accurate.”
Faithfully always,
George Augustus Sala.
The passage relating to the death of Nana runs thus:— “Et, sur ce masque horrible et grotesque du néant, les cheveux, les beaux cheveux gardant leur flambée de soleil, coulaient en un ruissellement d’or, Vénus se décomposait.”
79 It is also necessary to refer, here to Mr. Wilde’s career in the two other capacities he has assumed of Art Lecturer, and Dress Reformer.
The interest in the Æsthetic School had sometime since spread to the United States, and when the opera of Patience was produced it occurred to Mr. Wilde that a visit to the States to give some lectures, explanatory of real Æstheticism as it exists amongst us, might interest and possibly instruct and elevate our transatlantic cousins.
In some of his early utterances he was unguarded; he admitted, for instance, that he was not strongly impressed with the mighty ocean, and great was the flow of wit from this small cause:—
He went to Omaha, where, under the auspices of the Social Art Club, he delivered a lecture on “Decorative Art,” in the course of which he described his impressions of many American houses as being “illy designed, decorated shabbily, and in bad taste, and filled with furniture that was not honestly made, and was out of character.” This statement gave rise to the following verses:—
From the States he went to Canada, and thence to Nova Scotia, the Halifax Morning Herald of October 10, 1882, gave an amusing account of an interview held with him by their own “Interviewer.” “The apostle had no lily, nor yet a sunflower. He wore a velvet jacket which seemed to be a good jacket. He had an ordinary necktie and wore a linen collar about number eighteen on a neck half a dozen sizes smaller. His legs were in trousers, and his boots were apparently the product of New York art, judging by their pointed toes. His hair is the colour of straw, slightly leonine, and when not looked after, goes climbing all over his features. Mr. Wilde was communicative and genial; he said he found Canada pleasant, but in answer to a question as to whether European or American women were the more beautiful, he dexterously evaded his querist.”
The remainder of the conversation was devoted to poetry; he expressed his opinion that Poe was the greatest American poet, and that Walt Whitman, if not a poet, is a man who sounds a strong note, perhaps neither prose nor poetry, but something of his own that is grand, original and unique.
On this topic The Century, for November, 1882, contained an exquisitely humorous poem written by Helen Gray Cone, describing an imaginary interview between Oscar Wilde and the great poetical Egotist—Walt Whitman. The style and diction of both are admirably hit off. The parody of Whitman reads, indeed, like an excerpt from his works.
Unfortunately, as the poem is very long, only an extract can be given:—
Narcissus in Camden.
(“In the course of his lecture, Mr. Wilde remarked that the most impressive room he had yet entered in America was the one in Camden Town, where he met Walt Whitman. It contained plenty of fresh air and sunlight. On the table was a simple cruse of water.”)
Paumanokides. Narcissus.
Punch also had a very funny burlesque description of
“OSCAR INTERVIEWED.
“New York, Jan., 1882.
“Determined to anticipate the rabble of penny-a-liners ready to pounce upon any distinguished foreigner who approaches our shores, and eager to assist a sensitive Poet in avoiding the impertinent curiosity and ill-bred insolence of the Professional Reporter, I took the fastest pilot-boat on the station, and boarded the splendid Cunard steamer, The Boshnia, in the shucking of a pea-nut.
“His Æsthetic Appearance.
“He stood, with his large hand passed through his long hair, against a high chimney-piece—which had been painted pea-green, with panels of peacock blue pottery let in at uneven intervals—one elbow on the high ledge, the other hand on his hip. He was dressed in a long, snuff-coloured, single-breasted coat, which reached to his heels, and was relieved with a seal-skin collar and cuffs rather the worse for wear. Frayed linen, and an orange silk handkerchief gave a note to the generally artistic colouring of the ensemble, while one small daisy drooped despondently in his button-hole.
“His Glorious Past.
“Precisely—I took the Newdigate. Oh! no doubt, every year some man gets the Newdigate; but not every year does Newdigate get an Oscar. Since then—barely three years, but centuries to such as I am—I have stood upon the steps of London Palaces—in South Kensington—and preached Æsthetic art. I have taught the wan beauty to wear nameless robes, have guided her limp limbs into sightless knots and curving festoons, while we sang of the sweet sad sin of Swinburne, or the lone delight of soft communion with Burne-Jones. Swinburne had made a name, and Burne-Jones had copied illuminations e’er the first silky down had fringed my upper lip, but the Trinity of Inner Brotherhood was not complete till I came forward, like the Asphodel from the wilds of Arcady, to join in sweet antiphonal counterchanges with the Elder Seers. We are a Beautiful Family—we are, we are, we are!”
“Yes; I expect my Lecture will be a success. So does Dollar Carte—I mean D’Oyly Carte. Too-Toothless Senility may jeer, and poor positive Propriety may shake her rusty curls; but I am here, to pipe of Passion’s venturous Poesy, and reap the scorching harvest of Self-Love! I am not quite sure what I mean. The true Poet never is. In fact, true Poetry is nothing if it is intelligible.
“His Kosmic Soul.
“Oh, yes! I speak most languages; in the sweet honey-tinted brogue my own land lends me. La bella Donna della mia Mente exists, but she is not the Jersey Lily, though I have grovelled at her feet; she is not the Juno Countess, though I have twisted my limbs all over her sofas; she is not the Polish Actress, though I have sighed and wept over all the boxes of the Court Theatre; she is not the diaphanous Sarah, though I have crawled after her footsteps through the heavy fields of scentless Asphodel; she is not the golden haired Ellen, more fair than any woman Veronesé looked upon, though I have left my Impressions on many and many a seat in the Lyceum Temple, where she is High Priestess; nor is she one of the little Nameless Naiads I have met in Lotus-haunts, who, with longing eyes, watch the sweet bubble of the frenzied grape. No, Sir, my real Love is my own Kosmic Soul, enthroned in its flawless essence; and when America can grasp the supreme whole I sing in too-too utterance for vulgar lips, then soul and body will blend in mystic symphonies; then, crowned with bellamours and wanton flower-de-luce, I shall be hailed Lord of a new Empery, and as I stain my lips in the bleeding wounds of the Pomegranate, and wreathe my o’ergrown limbs with the burnished disk of the Sunflower, Apollo will turn pale and lashing the restive horses of the Sun, the tamer chariot of a forgotten god will make way for the glorious zenith of the one Oscar Wilde.”
81 Since his return from America Mr. Oscar Wilde has settled in London, and is known in society as a genial and witty gentleman, and a particularly graceful after-dinner speaker. He is the Editor of The Woman’s World, a very high class magazine, published by Cassell and Co., in which he has ample opportunities of advocating his favourite cult, the worship of the beautiful in Nature and in Art.
From Poems and Parodies. By Two Undergrads. Oxford. B. H. Blackwell, 1880.
(This little paper-covered pamphlet was originally published at the price of one shilling; it was withdrawn from circulation, and is consequently very scarce.)
In 1881 and 1882 Punch teemed with parodies on Oscar Wilde, one of the best appeared May 28, 1881:—
The titles of some others are;—
April 9, 1881. | A Maudle-in Ballad to his Lily. |
June 23, 1881. | Maunderings at Marlow. |
October 1, 1881. | The Æsthete to the Rose. |
November 26, 1881. | The Downfall of the Dado. |
January 14, 1882. | Murder made Easy. |
March 31, 1883. | Sage Green, by a Fading-out Æsthete. |
this latter contained the following verses:—
A “Rose” Ball.
A Rose, or Maidens’ Ball took place, in July 1885, at Hyde Park House, which was lent for the occasion by Mrs. Naylor-Leyland. It was a complete success, in spite of the absence of Royalty. As a social gathering, it was the smartest dance of the season, while, from a girl’s point of view, there has been no ball in London to equal it for many a day. Each fair donor paid five pounds, for which she was allowed to ask five men, and in almost every case the favoured five put in an appearance; so instead of the dancing-rooms being filled with girls anxiously looking for partners, the tables were turned, and the black coats had to take their turn at playing wallflowers—an amusement, to judge from some of their remarks, that they did not all appreciate. Each maiden carried a bouquet of roses, and almost all the floral decorations were confined to various varieties of the same flower.
From Ballades of a Country Bookworm, by Thomas Hutchinson. London, Stanesby & Co. 1888.
Was born in 1844, and at the age of twenty obtained a position in the Natural History Department of the British Museum. In 1873 he married Miss Eleanor Marston, who assisted her husband in some of his early works, especially in a volume entitled “Toyland,” published in 1875.
But Mrs. O’Shaughnessy and her two children all died in 1879, and the unfortunate young poet did not long survive them, he dying in London early in 1881.
His early books—“An Epic of Women” (1870); and “Lays of France” (1872), were successful, but “Music and Moonlight” (1874), was coldly received.
This parody originally appeared in The Shotover Papers, Oxford, May 1874.
Here is another parody of Mr. C. S. Calverley’s style:—
It should be mentioned, in connection with Mr. J. Ashby-Sterry, that The Muse in Manacles, quoted on page 64, was from his pen.
85FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON.
It should have been mentioned, in connection with the poems of this gentleman, that illustrated articles concerning his life and works appeared in Once a Week, September 7, 1872, and The Century, February, 1883. Both contained portraits, the one in The Century having been drawn by Mr. George Du Maurier. Mr. Locker’s poem “St. James’s Street,” (see page 56) originally appeared in The Times, in 1867.
BALLADES, RONDEAUS, AND VILLANELLES.
Since the last part was published several parodies on these exotics have been sent in by various correspondents, and it would be ungracious not to include them, indeed, the collection would be incomplete without them. The first humorous Ballade, aptly enough, is from the pen of Mr. Gleeson White, whose book on Ballades and Rondeaus has already been alluded to:—
The following well known Ballade originally appeared in Mr. Andrew Lang’s Ballades in Blue China, the first (1880) edition of which is so much prized by collectors.
BALLADE OF PRIMITIVE MAN.
The Universal Review, for December, 1888, contained a peculiar article by Mr. H. D. Traill, entitled “The Doom of the Muses,” in which he satirically describes the present position of the Fine Arts. Dealing with Poetry, he thus alludes to the present craze for the Ballade:—
From Ballades of a Country Bookworm. By Thomas Hutchinson. London, Stanesby & Co. 1888.
Some years ago Mr. Austin Dobson wrote a few comical Triolets, which appeared in “Hood’s Comic Annual.” These have not been included in recent English editions of his poems—which is to be regretted.
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The University News Sheet. St. Andrew’s. March 3, 1886.
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Villanelle.
“How to compose a Villanelle, which is said to require an elaborate amount of care in production, which those who read only would hardly suspect existed.”
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AN OLD SONG BY NEW SINGERS.
This gentleman was born in London in 1810, and educated, first at the Charterhouse school, and afterwards at Christ Church, Oxford, where he graduated B.A., M.A., and D.C.L. The author of many works, both in prose and verse, Mr. Tupper has been hardly dealt with by the critics, and the parodists.
They appear to have ignored such of his writings as have any merit, in order to hunt most mercilessly to death his Proverbial Philosophy, 89 which, though it has run through many editions, is inferior to much else that he has written.
The reasons for this perversity on their part cannot here be considered, only the Parodies as they exist can be dealt with.
The following lines, which were written many years ago by “Cuthbert Bede” in his Shilling Book of Beauty, neatly sum up Proverbial Philosophy:—
Another old parody may be quoted from the second volume of Punch, (1842).
A parody of a somewhat more spiteful character appeared in Punch, August 23, 1856, but the circumstances to which it alluded are now forgotten, so that the parody lacks interest: a few verses only need be quoted:—
In Banter (a comic paper edited by Mr. G. A. Sala) for November 11, 1867, there was a parody of Tupper, entitled Proverbial Philosophy of Sausages, but it was not very amusing; and in the same paper, for November 18, there was a burlesque description of a dinner given to Mr. Tupper, and of an after-dinner speech he delivered in which he explained the dodges and devices he had practised in order to puff his works, and increase the sale of Proverbial Philosophy.
The Fall of Tupper.
We are too often painfully reminded that the best of us are but very frail. A very painful case of moral declension has occurred lately. Martin Farquhar Tupper, the great moral philosopher at whose feet all England has sat so long and learnt so much, that great and good man who had discovered a new species of poetry which was neither rhyme nor reason, but all beautiful pure sentiment, has come down to writing rhyme! Happily he has not yet reached the next stage—he has not fallen so low yet as to incur the suspicion of writing reason. But this abandonment of his principles has been, we fear, the result of bad company, for—our heart breaks almost while we pen the words,—but it is too plain, we cannot shut our eyes to the cruel truth—Martin Farquhar Tupper has fallen into the power of Algernon Charles Swinburne!! He, the purest of philosophers, the chosen minstrel of the Evangelical Church, has been studying the words of the erotic Pagan bard, the laureate of Venus and Faustina!
We are enabled, by a wonderful effort of clairvoyance, to publish a poem which the modest songster of The Rock has held back, the charming domestic interest and true Protestant flavour of which must commend it to all admirers of Martin Farquhar Tupper:—
The following excellent parody has been ascribed to Mr. Andrew Lang:—
WILLIAM AND MARGARET.
By David Mallet. Born, 1700. Died, 1765.
A Latin version of this ballad was written by Mr. Vincent Bourne, entitled Thyrsis et Chloe. It can readily be found in his works, but the following anonymous French translation is not so well known:—
The following ballad, which was once very popular among the lower orders, is said to be founded on “William and Margaret”:—
Born December 24, 1754. Died Feb. 3, 1832.
Although the works of this author are now but little read, they were widely popular at the time when the brothers Smith produced The Rejected Addresses in 1812, and naturally Mr. Crabbe’s poetry came in for imitation. Indeed this particular imitation was singled out by Lord 94 Jeffrey as being the best piece in the collection. “It is,” said he, “an exquisite and most masterly imitation, not only of the peculiar style, but of the taste, temper, and manner of description of that most original author (Crabbe), and can hardly be said to be in any respect a caricature of that style or manner, except in the excessive profusion of puns and verbal jingles, which are never so thick sown in the original works as in this admirable imitation.”
Even Mr. Crabbe, himself, was amused, he wrote “There is a little ill-nature in their prefatory address; but in their versification they have done me admirably, yet it is easier to imitate style than to furnish matter.”
From this it will be gathered that the prose introduction is as much a parody as the poem, both of which were written by James Smith, who gives the following lines as a fair sample of Mr. Crabbe’s versification:—
and as to his jingling style he mentions that Crabbe thus describes a thrifty house-wife:—
“Heaven in her eye, and in her hand her keys.”
THE THEATRE.
A Preface of Apologies.
If the following poem should be fortunate enough to be selected for the opening address, a few words of explanation may be deemed necessary, on my part, to avert invidious misrepresentation. The animadversion I have thought it right to make on the noise created by tuning the orchestra, will, I hope, give no lasting remorse to any of the gentlemen employed in the band. It is to be desired that they would keep their instruments ready tuned, and strike off at once. This would be an accommodation to many well-meaning persons who frequent the theatre, who, not being blest with the ear of St. Cecilia, mistake the tuning for the overture, and think the latter concluded before it is begun.
was originally written “one hautboy will;” but, having providentially been informed, when this poem was on the point of being sent off, that there is but one hautboy in the band, I averted the storm of popular and managerial indignation from the head of its blower: as it now stands, “one fiddle” among many, the faulty individual will, I hope, escape detection. The story of the flying play-bill is calculated to expose a practice much too common, of pinning play-bills to the cushions insecurely, and frequently, I fear, not pinning them at all. If these lines save one play-bill only from the fate I have recorded, I shall not deem my labour ill-employed. The concluding episode of Patrick Jennings glances at the boorish fashion of wearing the hat in the one-shilling gallery. Had Jennings thrust his between his feet at the commencement of the play, he might have leaned forward with impunity, and the catastrophe I relate would not have occurred. The line of handkerchiefs formed to enable him to recover his loss is purposely so crossed in texture and materials as to mislead the reader in respect to the real owner of any one of them. For in the statistical view of life and manners which I occasionally present, my clerical profession has taught me how extremely improper it would be, by any allusion, however slight, to give any uneasiness, however trivial, to any individual, however foolish or wicked.
G. C.
The Theatre.
Interior of a Theatre described.—Pit gradually fills.—The Check-taker.—Pit full.—The Orchestra tuned.—One fiddle rather dilatory.—Is reproved—and repents.—Evolutions of a Play-bill.—Its final settlement on the Spikes.—The Gods taken to task—and why.—Motley Group of Play-goers.—Holywell Street, St. Pancras.—Emanuel Jennings binds his Son apprentice—not in London—and why.—Episode of the Hat.
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The very first author selected for imitation by the Smiths was one whose writings have long since been forgotten, and whose name alone is preserved from oblivion by Byron’s lines:—
Mr. W. T. Fitzgerald actually sent in a serious address to the Drury Lane Committee on August 31, 1812. It was published, among the other Genuine Rejected Addresses, in that year. It contained the following lines:—
On which Smith remarks, “What a pity, that like Sterne’s Recording Angel, it did not succeed in blotting the fire out for ever! That failing, why not adopt Gulliver’s remedy?” Fitzgerald’s writings do not appear to have attained the dignity of a collected edition, but in the Library of the British Museum a number of his poems and prologues are preserved, from which the following is selected as a fair example of his style. It will also illustrate the humour of the parody.
BRITONS TO ARMS.
Written by W. T. Fitzgerald, Esq., and recited by him at the meeting of the Literary Fund, July 14.
Printed for James Askern, 32, Cornhill, for 1d. each, or 6s. per 100.
Noblemen, magistrates, and gentlemen would do well by ordering a few dozen of the above tracts of their different booksellers, and causing them to be stuck up in the respective villages where they reside, that the inhabitants may be convinced of the cruelty of the Corsican usurper.
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GEORGE BARNWELL
In Bishop Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry is the Ballad having this title, which the Bishop states had been printed at least as early as the middle of the 17th century. Upon this Ballad, George Lillo, the dramatist, founded a tragedy, entitled “The London Merchant, or the History of George Barnwell,” which was first performed at Drury Lane Theatre, in 1731. Lillo departed from the ballad by making Barnwell die repentant, thereby spoiling his dramatic character, and the piece was faulty in other respects, yet it held the stage for many years, and Mrs. Siddons frequently performed the part of the fair but naughty Millwood, and Charles Kemble was considered the best Barnwell ever seen on the boards.
At the time, therefore, that Rejected Addresses were written, and for many years afterwards, George Barnwell was a piece thoroughly familiar to London playgoers, consequently it was quite natural that the topic should be selected for a burlesque, and the following was written by James Smith:—
In 1858 the late Mr. Shirley Brooks chose this burlesque as the basis of a parody he composed on the ecclesiastical procedure adopted by Samuel Wilberforce, then Bishop of Oxford. It contains nothing more offensive to religion than the somewhat familiar address to the Bishop as Soapy Sam, the origin of which sobriquet is lost in doubt. It is said, that when asked its meaning by a lady, Bishop Wilberforce replied, “I believe they call me ‘Soapy Sam’ because I am so often in hot water, and always come out with clean hands.”
Sam.
A Melancholy but Instructive Narrative, Founded on Facts,
and on James Smith’s “George Barnewell”
The burlesque of George Barnwell is the last of the poetical extracts that need be quoted from The Rejected Addresses. Those already given in this collection consist of the imitations of W. T. Fitzgerald, William Wordsworth, Lord Byron, Thomas Moore, Robert Southey, Walter Scott, M. G. Lewis, S. T. Coleridge and George Crabbe. Those not given consist of a few prose imitations (William Cobbett and Dr. Johnson), and two or three parodies of second-rate and almost forgotten authors.
MISSIONARY HYMN.
* * * * *
After tremendous efforts to “puff” the so-called “Imperial Institute” scheme into public favour, and when the subscriptions were coming in but slowly, the ceremony of laying the foundation stone was gone through, with all the solemn mummery customary on such occasions. An Ode was necessary, and one was accordingly written by Mr. Lewis Morris, and set to music by Sir Arthur Sullivan. The Ode contained the usual commonplaces, expressed in language more than usually dull and meaningless, as the following extracts will suffice to show:—
Mr. Lewis Morris was rewarded for his ode by a silver Jubilee medal, with permission to wear it on public occasions. Some time afterwards he wrote to a Manchester newspaper complaining that people confounded him with Mr. William Morris, the poet and socialist, on which The Star published the following
THE TWINS.
The whole of this amusing poem will be found in Carols of Cockayne by Mr. Henry S. Leigh.
Mr. Leigh died early in June, 1883, and the following graceful parody of his poem appeared in Judy, June 27, 1883.
——:o:——
A learned dissertation might be written—entitled “The Wisdom of our Nursery Rhymes”—which should go to prove that every important Rhyme was either founded on some historical basis, or illustrated an old custom of our forefathers long since fallen into oblivion.
Such an essay would be out of place here, but a few notes will be inserted to show the undoubted antiquity of such of the principal Nursery Rhymes as have given rise to the Parodies to be quoted.
Parodies of Nursery Rhymes exist in such numbers that only a small percentage can be inserted, especially as some of the best are of a political and personal nature, and rapidly become obsolete.
The selection has been made as carefully and impartially as possible, with indications as to where such other Parodies may be found as have had to be omitted.
Some of our Nursery Rhymes owe their origin to names distinguished in our literature; as Oliver Goldsmith, for instance, is believed in his earlier days to have written such compositions. Dr. E. F. Rimbault gives the following particulars as to some well-known favourites; “Sing a Song of Sixpence,” he states, is as old as the 16th century. “The Frog and the Mouse” was licensed in 1580. “London Bridge is broken Down” is of unfathomed antiquity. “Girls and Boys come out to Play” is certainly as old as the reign of Charles II.; as is also “Lucy Locket lost her Pocket,” to the tune of which the American song of “Yankee Doodle” was written. “Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, where have you been?” is of the age of Queen Bess. “Little Jack Horner” is older than the seventeenth century. “The Old Woman Tossed in a Blanket” is of the reign of James II., to which monarch it is supposed to allude.
J. O. Halliwell, in his “Nursery Rhymes of England,” gives the following:—
and states that the original is to be found in “Deuteromelia; or, the Second Part of Músicks Melodie,” 4to., London, 1609, where the music is also given.
Many other instances of the antiquity of these rhymes will be found under their respective headings.
Amongst the works on Nursery Rhymes which have been consulted, the following may be recommended to those who take an interest in their origin and history.
The Nursery Rhymes of England, collected by James Orchard Halliwell. London. J. R. Smith. 1844.
Arundines Cami, edited by Henry Drury, A.M. Cambridge, 1841. This contains Latin translations of many Nursery Rhymes, of which a few are given in the following pages.
Nursery Rhymes Revised. By J. W. Palmer, 281, Strand, London, 1885.
A Paper on Nursery Rhymes, by Alfonzo Gardiner, see parts VIII. & IX. Yorkshire Notes and Queries, 1887.
The Gladstone Umbrella, or Political Dainties. An illustrated pamphlet, curious as having been published (in 1885) by Mr. Bernard Quaritch, whose name seldom appears in connection with anything so ephemeral as a political skit.
The People’s William. London. W. H. Allen & Co.
Parody Competitions on Nursery Rhymes—
Truth—October 15, 1885; September 30, 1886; June 14, 1888; June 28, 1888.
The Weekly Dispatch—April 13, 1884; July 5, 1885; October 2, 1887.
One and All—Various dates, from 1879 to 1881. These were all political, and are now of no interest.
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THIS IS THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT.
Very few would suspect that “The House that Jack built” is a comparatively modern version of an ancient Jewish hymn, sung at the feast of the Passover. Yet such is the case, according to the late Dr. Halliwell Phillips, who gives the following translation of the allegorical Talmudic Hymn, taken from Sepher Haggadah, folio 23. This, he says, was first translated by Professor P. N. Leberecht, of Leipsic, in 1731. The original, from which the Hebrew version was translated, is in the Chaldaic language.
The following is an interpretation of the allegory:—
1. The Kid which is one of the pure animals denotes the Hebrews. The father, by whom it is purchased, is Jehovah, who represents himself as sustaining this relation to the Hebrew nation. The pieces of money signify Moses and Aaron, through whose medium the Hebrews were brought out of Egypt.
2. The Cat denotes the Assyrians by whom the ten tribes were carried into captivity.
3. The dog is symbolical of the Babylonians.
4. The staff signified the Persians.
5. The fire indicates the Grecian Empire under Alexander the Great.
6. The water betokens the Romans, or the fourth of the great monarchies to whom the Jews were subjected.
7. The ox is a symbol of the Saracens who subdued Palestine, and brought it under the Caliphate.
8. The butcher that killed the ox denotes the Crusaders by whom the Holy Land was wrested out of the hands of the Saracens.
9. The Angel of death signifies the Turkish powers by which the land of Palestine was taken from the Franks, to whom it is still subject.
10. The commencement of the tenth stanza is designed to show that God will take signal vengeance on the Turks, immediately after whose overthrow the Jews are to be restored to their own land, and live under the Government of their long expected Messiah.
A somewhat similar accumulative poem to the “House that Jack built” is mentioned in Chodzko’s Popular Poetry of Persia; it runs thus:—
“I went upon the mountain top to tend my flock. Seeing there a girl, I said, ‘Lass, give me a kiss.’ She said, ‘Lad, give me some money.’ I said, ‘The money is in the purse, the purse in the wallet, the wallet on the camel, and the camel in Kerman.’ She said, ‘You wish for a kiss, but the kiss lies behind my teeth, my teeth are locked up, the key is with my mother, and my mother, like your camel, is in Kerman.’”
Sir Richard Burton also gives a translation of an old Arab story called
The Drop of Honey.
Many years ago a hunter found a hollow tree full of bees’ honey, some of which he took home in a water-skin. In the city he sold the honey to an oilman, but in emptying out the honey from the skin, a drop fell to the ground, whereupon the flies flocked to it, and a bird swooped down from the sky upon the flies. Then the oilman’s cat springs upon the bird, and the hunter’s dog flies at the cat, and the oilman kills the dog, and the hunter kills the oilman. Then the men of the respective tribes took up the quarrel, and fight, till there died of them much people, none knoweth their number save almighty Allah!
This favourite nursery rhyme has been more frequently imitated than any other, and has been especially selected as the model on which to form political squibs and satires.
Some of the principal of these were published by W. Hone (illustrated by George Cruikshank), early in the present century, and referred to the matrimonial squabbles of the Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.), a topic which possesses so little interest at present that it is not necessary to reprint the parodies. A few of the titles may here be enumerated:—
Loyalists’ House that Jack built.
Real, or Constitutional House that Jack built.
The Queen that Jack found.
The Queen and Magna Charta, or the thing that Jack signed.
The Dorchester Guide, or the House that Jack built.
The Political Queen that Jack loves.
The Political House that Jack built. 1821.[8]
The Theatrical House that Jack built.
“Juvenile reduplications, or the New House that Jack built,” a Parody, by J. Bisalt, with cuts in the manner of T. Bewick. Birmingham, 1800.
One of the rarest imitations is a little octavo religious pamphlet, intended as an answer to atheists and freethinkers, entitled “The Christian House that Jack built by Truth on a Rock,” with portraits of celebrities. 1820.
In 1809, during the O. P. Riots in the new Covent Garden theatre, many parodies were produced, and amongst them one on this nursery rhyme. The riots arose partly from some structural alterations made in the house, but still more from the great increase made in the prices of admission. John Kemble, the manager, and Madame Catalani were the principal objects of public indignation, and the war cries of the rioters were “Old Prices! No Private Boxes! No Catalani! The English Drama!” In the end Kemble had to compromise 103 matters, and Catalani’s name was withdrawn from the bills.
This is the house that Jack[9] built.
These are the boxes let to the great, that visit the house that Jack built.
These are the pigeon-holes over the boxes, let to the great, that visit the house that Jack built.
This is the Cat[10] engaged to squall to the poor in the pigeon-holes over the boxes, let to the great, that visit the house that Jack built.
This is John Bull with a bugle-horn, who hissed the Cat engaged to squall to the poor in the pigeon-holes over the boxes, let to the great, that visit the house that Jack built.
This is the thief-taker shaven and shorn, that took up John Bull with his bugle-horn, who hissed the Cat, engaged to squall to the poor in the pigeon-holes over the boxes, let to the great, that visit the house that Jack built.
This is the Manager full of scorn, who raised the price to the people forlorn, and directed the thief-taker, shaven and shorn, to take up John Bull with his bugle-horn, who hissed the Cat engaged to squall to the poor in the pigeon-holes over the boxes, let to the great, that visit the house that Jack built.
From The Rebellion; or, All in the Wrong. A serio-comic Hurly-Burly, as it was performed for two months at the New Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, by His Majesty’s servants, the Players, and his liege subjects, the Public. London, Vernor, Hood, & Sharp. 1809.
In The Ingoldsby Lyrics, by R. H. Barham, collected and edited by his son, and published by Richard Bentley and Son, London, in 1881, there are several parodies, which were doubtless very amusing when they first appeared, but they are now all out of date, especially those relating to politics.
Page | 21. | “I am partial to table and tray.”—Cowper. |
” | 43. | On the London University. “The University we’ve got in town.” |
” | 181. | “Pity the sorrows of a poor old Church.” |
” | 108. | The House that Jack built. |
” | 117. | Various Nursery Rhymes. |
” | 174. | The House that Jack built. |
The last parody, which originally appeared in The Spectator, refers to the Parliamentary enquiry into the causes of the fire that destroyed the Houses of Parliament in 1834. It commences:—
The other parody of The House that Jack built refers to an action that was brought in 1825, against Mr. Peto, a builder, for a breach of contract, in consequence of some failure in the foundations of the new Custom House at London Bridge.
This is the House that Jack built.
This is a sleeper that propped up the House that Jack built.
This is the pile that was short all the while, and wouldn’t go deeper under the sleeper, that propped up the House that Jack built.
This is the Peto appointed to see to, the driving the pile that was short, etc.
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This is John Bull with his pockets so full, who “forked out” three hundred thousand pounds for a tumble down house that fell to the ground, and paid all the fees, with a great deal of ease, to all the grave counsellors bouncing and big, every one in a three-tailed wig, who examined George Rennie that wouldn’t give a penny, for all the work, etc., etc.
These parodies are both very long, and the above extracts sufficiently indicate their topics.
“The Palace that N—h built. A parody on an old English Poem,” by I. Hume. A small oblong octavo, with plates. Not dated, but about 1830, as it is a skit on Nash, the architect who built Regent-street, and Buckingham Palace.
A Latin version of “The House that Jack built” appeared in The Hornet in 1872, it was also reprinted in Fun, Ancient and Modern, by Dr. Maurice Davies. London, Tinsley Brothers, 1878. It is too long to be inserted here.
“The Crystal Palace that Fox built” a Pyramid of Rhyme, with illustrations, by John Gilbert. London, David Bogue, 1851.
The editor offered an apology for not including the name of Mr. Henderson, as it “would not come into the rhyme.” Messrs. Fox and Henderson were the builders of the 1851 exhibition, in Hyde Park.
The Houses of Parliament.
This is the house that Barry (ought to have) built.
This is the money laid out on the house that Barry (ought to have) built.
This is the Reid that wasted the money laid out on the house that Barry (ought to have) built.
This is the architect that snubbed the Reid that wasted the money laid out on the house that Barry (ought to have) built.
This is the Brougham that worried the architect that snubbed the Reid that wasted the money laid out on the house that Barry (ought to have) built.
This is the press with its newsman’s horn, that took up the Brougham that worried the architect that snubbed the Reid that wasted the money laid out on the house that Barry (ought to have) built.
This is the Peerage, all forlorn, that appealed to the press with its newsman’s horn that took up the Brougham that worried the architect that snubbed the Reid that wasted the money laid out on the house that Barry (ought to have) built.
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Punch. 1846.
Notwithstanding all the faults found with Barry’s designs, there are really only four good reasons of complaint. 104 The Houses of Parliament are built on too low a site; they are built in a style of architecture totally unsuited for their purposes, and our climate; they are built of a very perishable stone, which is already crumbling to decay; and the chamber in which the Commons meet is only just large enough to accommodate one-half of the members.
In 1872 a skit on the promoters of the Emma mines was published, as “A New Nursery Ballad, embellished with portraits of some of the most Emma-nent men of the Day.” Salt Lake City, Utah. Published by and for Emma A. Sell. The frontispiece represented Knaves and Asses, and the other illustrations quaintly represented the various events alluded to in the Rhyme:
Will-o-the-Wisp, a satirical paper, had two amusing parodies, both illustrated, the first, which appeared April 17, 1869, entitled The Protestant House that Jack Built, the second, May 8, 1869, The Comic History of a Comical Ship built by John Bull:—
“This is the Ship that Jack Built.”
The House that John Built.
(Indian Version.)
This the House that John[11] built,
These are the Taxes that lay on the House that John built,
This is the War that eat up the Taxes that lay on the House that John built.
This is the Viceroy that made the War that eat up the Taxes that lay on the House that John built.
These are the Strings that pulled the Viceroy that made the War that eat up the Taxes that lay on the House that John built.
This is Big Ben, with his newspaper horn, who pulled the Strings that pulled the Viceroy that made the War that eat up the Taxes that lay on the House that John built.
This is Britannia, Jingo-borne, who was witched by Big Ben with his newspaper horn, who pulled the Strings that pulled the Viceroy that made the War that eat up the Taxes that lay on the House that John built.
This is the Ameer, all sulks and scorn, who said “No” to Britannia Jingo-borne, who was witched by Big Ben with his newspaper horn, who pulled the Strings that pulled the Viceroy that made the War that eat up the Taxes that lay on the House that John built.
Punch, 1878.
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And this is the Writer whose vigilant care shows poverty’s evils exceptional are, nor visit the men who lead with their wives clean, sober, hard-working, respectable lives, and exposes the Rads, who, by stooping to set poor against rich popularity get, and lay their ills at the rich man’s door, as profits to him at the cost of the poor, and support the Paper that (so it may sell) will foster sensation and shamefully tell the Falsehood that stupidly dares to aver it lies with the rich (who, it says, prefer foul tenants to cleanly, and “bullion” can squeeze from starving wretches and dirt and disease), and not with Drink and improvident ways, that they lost the earnings of happier days, and got those Habits of laziness that led to the Tokens of filth and distress, that mark the Cadger who’d ruin the House that any one built.
A Pen’orth of Poetry for the Poor. London. 1884.
A very long parody, entitled “This is the House Sir John left!” appeared in Truth, August 20, 1885. It had reference to the cruel custom of people leaving their town houses with their dogs, cats, and other domestic pets improperly cared for during their absence.
This rhyme, with very humorous illustrations, appeared in The Lock to Lock Times, September 15, 1888. The Lock to Lock Times is a clever little paper devoted to angling and aquatics, it often contains amusing parodies.
Several different versions exist of the following imitation, this one has been selected as the best and most complete. It originally appeared in one of the University Magazines about twenty years ago, but the exact reference is wanting.
The Pall Mall Gazette for April 22, 1887, contained a Political Parody, entitled “Jubilee Coercion Bill, No. 87.” It was profusely illustrated by F. C. G., and without these illustrations the letterpress would read flat and dull, especially as the fun of calling Goschen, Chamberlain and Caine, “Rats,” however true it may have been in 1887, is pretty well exhausted by this time.
The parody concludes with a portrait of John Bull waving a Home Rule flag, under him are the following lines:—
During the trial in America of the action for Crim. Con. brought by Mr. Tilton against the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, a well known journalist, Mr. W. A. Croffat, published a parody in the New York Daily Graphic called “The House that Bowen Built,” but it would be of no interest to English readers.
School Board Version of the House that Jack Built.
This is the domiciliary edifice erected by John.
This is the fermented grain which was deposited in the domiciliary edifice erected by John.
This is the obnoxious vermin that masticated the fermented grain which was deposited in the domiciliary edifice erected by John.
This is the domesticated creature of the feline tribe that completely annihilated the obnoxious vermin that masticated the fermented grain which was deposited in the domiciliary edifice erected by John.
This is the sagacious scion of the canine genus who disturbed the equanimity of the domesticated creature of the feline tribe which completely annihilated the obnoxious vermin that masticated the fermented grain which was deposited in the domiciliary edifice erected by John.
This is the graminivorous female of the bovine race who with her curvilinear and corrugated protuberances considerably elevated into atmospheric space the sagacious scion of the canine genus who disturbed the equanimity of the domesticated creature of the feline tribe that completely annihilated the obnoxious vermin that masticated the fermented grain which was deposited in the domiciliary edifice erected by John.
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This is the agriculturist who placed in the alluvial deposit that grain which germinated, flourished, multiplied, and subsequently became the sustenance of the bold chanticleer who by his shrill vociferations, at early dawn, awoke from his slumbers that ecclesiastical gentleman whose cranium was devoid of its hirsute covering who united in the bonds of h-o-l-y matrimony that humble individual whose garments presented a disintegrated and unseemly appearance who sipped the sweet honey 108 from the lips of the young damsel of dejected mien whose occupation consisted in extracting the nutritious lacteal beverage from the graminivorous female of the bovine race who with her curvilinear and corrugated protuberances considerably elevated into atmospheric space the sagacious scion of the canine genus who disturbed the equanimity of the domesticated creature of the feline tribe that completely annihilated the obnoxious vermin that masticated the fermented grain which was deposited in the domiciliary edifice erected by John.
This imitation forms one of a parcel of 14 “Modern Sermons,” as they are styled, published by F. Passmore, 124, Cheapside, E.C., the whole of which may be had, post free, for 13 pence. The following is the introduction to another Sermon founded on the same plot:—
Modern Sermons.
“This is the house that Jack built.”
That is the first portion of my text, dear friends, so you see that for a start we have something definite: we are not simply told that this is the house; but that it is “the house that Jack built.” Now, if Jack was anything, he was a far-seeing man; for do we not read that
“This is the malt that lay in the house that Jack built.”
Anticipating a rise in the price of barley, and wishing to profit by that rise, Jack bought up all the malt that he could get. But, like many other men, he had an enemy. This was a rat, and of him it is said that
“This is the rat that ate the malt.”
Now I do not wish to impute any greedy or selfish motives to this rat. Probably he was well aware that it was through malt that many men make beasts of themselves. “Beasts,” said the rat to himself, “are already too numerous. If their number is increased, the struggle for existence will become fiercer: so it amounts to this, if I do not, by eating this malt, save men from becoming beasts, we shall have to eat our ‘brothers and our sisters, our cousins and our aunts.’ I will either prevent such a catastrophe, or perish in the attempt.” He perished in the attempt, for we are introduced to his destroyer in the following words:
“This is the cat that killed the rat.”
As I dealt generously with the rat, even so will I deal with the cat. There is every reason for supposing that he was a friend of publicans and sinners. Hear him speak for himself: “If this rat eats all the malt, the publicans must either raise the price of beer, or they must supply their customers with an inferior article. This shall not be.” Having spoken these words, he pounced on the robber, and, intoxicated with success, imprudently shook the fruits of his victory in the face of one of whom it is written:
“This is the dog that worried the cat.”
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SING A SONG OF SIXPENCE.
When Bentley’s Miscellany was started in 1837 it was supported by the most brilliant writers of the day, George Cruikshank designed a cover for it, and Dr. Maginn wrote the following poem which pretty accurately describes Cruikshank’s design:—
Pidgin English is the dialect in use between the Chinese and the English. The Chinese pronounce our letter r at the commencement of a word as l.
At a concert given in the Albert Hall on February 26, 1876, when the Queen was present, the hall was scarcely half filled, and Sir Henry Cole’s arrangements were loudly condemned.
The first part of The English Illustrated Magazine was published by Messrs. Macmillan & Co. in October, 1883. It contained “Les Casquettes,” a poem by Swinburne, “The Dormouse at Home,” by Grant Allen, an article on the Law Courts, by F. W. Maitland, and one on Oysters, by Professor Huxley.
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THE BELLS OF LONDON TOWN
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Who should Educate the Prince of Wales?
“This is a serious question; and though we have looked through the advertisements of Morning Governesses every day for the last week, we are compelled to admit we have seen nothing that seems likely to suit—at least, at present. It is no doubt a very serious consideration, how the young ideas of the Prince of Wales should be taught to shoot so as to hit the mark; and it is, unfortunately, not so easy to train up a royal child, though the railroad pace at which education travels renders it necessary that he should be put into a first-class train as soon as possible. Awfully impressed with the deep importance of the question, we have made an humble endeavour to answer it, and if the hints are of any service to the nation, our object will be fulfilled, and our ambition will be gratified.”
This old parody of “Who killed Cock Robin?” was illustrated with a number of funny little portraits.
From Sketches in Prose and Verse, by F. B. Doveton, London, Sampson Low & Co., 1886.
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Nursery Rhymes a la Mode.
(Our nurseries will soon be too cultured to admit the old rhymes in their Philistine and unæsthetic garb. They may be redressed somewhat on this model!)
From Rhymes and Renderings. Cambridge. Macmillan and Bowes. 1887.
(Attributed to Mr. T. H. S. Escott, afterwards Editor of the Fortnightly Review.)
From College Rhymes. Oxford, 1873.
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MISTRESS MARY.
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MOTHER HUBBARD.
Brethren, the words of my text are:—
These beautiful words, dear friends, carry with them a solemn lesson. I propose this morning to analyze their meaning, and to attempt to apply it, lofty as it may be, to our every-day life.
Mother Hubbard, you see, was old; there being no mention of others, we may presume she was alone; a widow—a friendless, old, solitary widow. Yet, did she despair? Did she sit down and weep, or read a novel, or wring her hands? No! she went to the cupboard. And here observe that she went to the cupboard. She did not hop, or skip, or run, or jump, or use any other peripatetic artifice; she solely and merely went to the cupboard. We have seen that she was old and lonely, and we now further see that she was poor. For, mark, the words are “the cupboard.” Not “one of the cupboards,” or “the right-hand cupboard,” or “the left-hand cupboard,” or “the one above,” or “the one below,” or “the one under the floor,” but just “the cupboard,” the one humble little cupboard the poor widow possessed. And why did she go to the cupboard? Was it to bring forth goblets, or glittering precious stones, or costly apparel, or feasts, or any other attributes of wealth? It was to get her poor dog a bone! Not only was the widow poor, but her dog, the sole prop of her old age, was poor too. We can imagine the scene. The poor dog, crouching in the corner, looking wistfully at the solitary cupboard, and the widow going to that cupboard—in hope, in expectation may be—to open it, although we are not distinctly told that it was not half open, or ajar, to open it for that poor dog.
When she got there! You see, dear brethren, what perseverance is! She got there! There were no turnings and twistings, no slippings and slidings, no leanings to the right, or falterings to the left. With glorious simplicity we are told “she got there.”
And how was she rewarded?
“The cupboard was bare!” It was bare! There were to be found neither apples, nor oranges, nor cheesecakes, nor penny buns, nor gingerbread, nor crackers, nor nuts, nor lucifer matches. The cupboard was bare! There was but one, only one solitary cupboard in the whole of the cottage, and that one, the sole hope of the widow, and the glorious loadstar of the poor dog, was bare! Had there been a leg of mutton, a loin of lamb, a fillet of veal, even an ice from Gunter’s, the case would have been very different, the incident would have been otherwise. But it was bare, my brethren, bare as a bald head. Many of you will probably say, with all the pride of worldly sophistry—“The widow, no doubt, went out and bought a dog biscuit.” Ah, no! Far removed from these earthly ideas and mundane desires, poor Mother Hubbard, the widow, whom many thoughtless worldlings would despise, in that she only owned one cupboard, perceived—or I might even say saw—at once the relentless logic of the situation, and yielded to it with all the heroism of that nature which had enabled her, without deviation, to reach the barren cupboard. She did not attempt, like the stiff-necked scoffers of this generation, to war against 119 the inevitable; she did not try, like the so-called man of science, to explain what she did not understand. She did nothing. “The poor dog had none.” And then at this point our information ceases. But do we not know sufficient? Are we not cognisant of enough? Who would dare to pierce the veil that shrouds the ulterior fate of Old Mother Hubbard—her poor dog—the cupboard—or the bone that was not there? Must we imagine her still standing at the open cupboard door, depict to ourselves the dog still drooping his disappointed tail upon the floor, the sought-for bone remaining somewhere else? Ah, no, my brethren, we are not so permitted to attempt to read the future. Suffice it for us to glean from this beautiful story its many lessons; suffice it for us to apply them, to study them as far as in us lies, and, bearing in mind the natural frailty of our nature, to avoid being widows; to shun the patronymic of Hubbard; to have, if our means afford it, more than one cupboard in the house; and to keep stores in them all.
And oh! dear friends, keep in recollection what we have learned this day. Let us avoid keeping dogs that are fond of bones. But, brethren, if we do, if fate has ordained that we should do any of these things, let us then go, as Mother Hubbard did, straight, without curvetting and prancing, to our cupboard, empty though it be,—let us, like her, accept the inevitable with calm steadfastness; and should we, like her, ever be left with a hungry dog and an empty cupboard, may future chroniclers be able to write also in the beautiful words of our text—
“And so the poor dog had none.”
Notes and Queries, April 21, 1888, contained the following interesting account of the origin of this singular jeu d’esprit:
This is not a “burlesque” of the story of ‘Mother Hubbard,’ but a good-humoured parody of the popular (?) “regulation” sermon. It appeared originally in 1877, in a novel by Lord Desart, who claimed it in a letter to the Pall Mall Gazette in December, 1886, in which he says that “one of his characters delivered it as a mock sermon,” and adds that it has been copied into “most of the provincial English and Scotch, and into many American and Canadian newspapers.” He adds:—
“I myself heard it preached by a negro minstrel at Haverley’s, New York; it has been neatly printed, with an introduction, by a clergyman, and sent round to his brother preachers as an example of how not to do it; it was bought for a penny in a broadsheet form in the City a year or two ago by a friend of mine; it has been heard at countless penny readings and entertainments of the kind; it has appeared among the facetiæ of a guide-book to Plymouth and the South Coast; and in a volume published by the owners of St. Jacob’s Oil, as well as in another jest-book; and the other day I was shown it in a collection of ana, just published by Messrs. Routledge & Co., for a firm in Melbourne; and all this without any acknowledgment of its authorship whatsoever. Perhaps you will allow me, through your columns, to claim my wandering child—‘a poor thing, but mine own.’”
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These lines form part of “The pleasant History of Jack Horner, containing his witty Tricks and pleasant Pranks,” a copy of which is in the Bodleian Library, the story must have been in existence earlier than 1617, at which date a similar tale was printed in London founded upon it.
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For an explanation of this curious old rhyme, and Shirley Brooks’s adaptation of it in English and Welsh see p. 255, Vol. iv. Parodies.
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[Therefore, my dears, you must be kind to a Frenchman, and give him some of your nice dinner, whenever you can, and teach him better.]
Shirley Brooks. 1864.
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Poem by the Archbishop of Canterbury.
(Composed on the day His Grace “deprived” Mr. Denison.)
(Written shortly before the deposition of the Khedive, by Turkey, France and England.)
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Nursery Rhymes for Cyclists.
Here is a touching little thing to “teach the young idea how to shoot”—down nasty hills:—
The pathetic address of the bicyclist to his lamp:—
Ladies are invited to—
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From The Star. November, 1888. Just after the resignation of Sir C. Warren as Chief Commissioner of the London Police, much to the delight of the London people.
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In Carols of Cockayne (London, Chatto & Windus, 1874) the late Mr. Henry S. Leigh gave some poetical versions of Nursery Rhymes, which he termed “Chivalry for the Cradle.” The stories selected were “Humpty-Dumpty,” “Ride a Cock-horse to Banbury Cross,” and “Babie Bunting.”
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THE MONTHS.
These lines occur in an old play, “The Return from Parnassus,” printed in London in 1606, they may have been derived from the following old poem De Computo, written in the thirteenth century:—
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Mr. Randolph Caldecott must have founded his well known children’s ballad upon the following very old nursery rhyme:—
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The following old rhyme was sung to the tune of Chevy Chace. It was taken from a poetical tale in the “Choyce Poems” printed in London in 1662. John Poole introduced the song in his Hamlet Travestie in 1810, without any acknowledgment, perhaps thinking it was too well known to require mention.
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THE COW.
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THE CAT.
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MARY’S LAMB.
Mary had a Little Lamb.
A Tale.
Mary was the proprietress of a diminutive incipient sheep, whose outer covering was as devoid of colour as congealed atmospheric vapour, and to all localities to which Mary perambulated, her young South-down was morally sure to follow. It tagged her to the dispensary of learning one diurnal section of time, which was contrary to all precedent, and excited cachinnation to the seminary attendants when they perceived the presence of a young mutton at the establishment of instruction. Consequently the preceptor expelled him from the interior, but he continued to remain in the immediate vicinity, without fretfulness, until Mary once more became visible.
“What caused this specimen of the genus ovis to bestow so much affection on Mary?” the impetuous progeny vociferated.
“Because Mary reciprocated the wool-producer’s esteem, you understand,” the teacher answered.
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Joseph and his Jesse.
An Adaptation of “Mary had a Little Lamb,” said to
have been Sung during the Ayr Contest, in which
Mr. Collings took an active part.
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SONG.
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The Legislative Organ.
[“The capacity of our Legislative Organ is limited. Its strength is overtaxed. In its perspective, the first place is held by the great and urgent Irish question. Still more limited are the means, especially as to the future, possessed by a man on the margin of his eightieth year.”—Mr. Gladstone’s letter.]
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An Utter Passion uttered Utterly.
This poem, inserted on page 81, was disfigured by a misprint, the third line should have read:—
“And drapen in tear-colour’d minivers.”
The author (Dr. Todhunter) wishes it to be understood that the poem was intended as a skit on the imitators of Mr. Swinburne’s style in general, and not on any particular individual. It was therefore a little out of place amongst the Parodies of Mr. Oscar Wilde, as it was not intended to refer in any way to the writings of that gentleman.—Ed. Parodies.
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IN
PRAISE OF TOBACCO.
he following poems, devoted entirely to the laudation of Tobacco, either as smoked in the pipe, cigar, or cigarette, or as taken in the form of snuff, have been collected from many different works. One of the principal sources of information has been that entertaining journal Cope’s Tobacco Plant, which has now unfortunately ceased to exist. Another useful authority was a little book published at the office of Tobacco in Gracechurch Street, London, entitled Tobacco Jokes for Smoking Folks, which contained many amusing anecdotes, and humorous illustrations. A few of the latter are here inserted by the kind permission of the proprietors. Following the Parodies some of the most noted Poems on Tobacco are given, so as to make the collection on this interesting topic more complete.
One of the earliest burlesque poems in praise of Tobacco was that written by Mr. Isaac Hawkins Browne about one hundred and fifty years ago, entitled “A Pipe of Tobacco, in imitation of Six Several Authors.”
This poem has been repeatedly reprinted, although there is little in it that strikes a modern reader as either remarkably humorous or clever. The authors imitated are Colley Cibber (the Poet Laureate), Ambrose Phillips, James Thomson, Edward Young, Alexander Pope, and Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick’s. It is stated that the imitation of Ambrose Phillips was not written by Mr. I. H. Browne, but was sent to him by a friend, whose name has not been transmitted to us. This is to be regretted, as this particular imitation (the second) is generally considered the best in the collection. According to Ritson this was written for the collection by Dr. John Hoadley.
A PIPE OF TOBACCO:
In Imitation of Six Several Authors.
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HORACE.
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From Hints to Freshmen in the University of Oxford, published by J. Vincent, Oxford, and attributed to the Rev. Canon Hole.
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The Genius of Smoking.
[We have been favored with the following defence of smoking, by an intimate literary friend of Lord Byron, who assures us it is selected from several unpublished juvenile trifles written at various times in his album by the noble bard.]
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From My Hookah; or, The Stranger in Calcutta. Being a collection of Poems by an Officer. Calcutta: Greenway and Co., 1812.
From Cope’s Cope’s Tobacco PlantTobacco Plant. April, 1873.
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The Song of Firewater, a parody of Longfellow’s “Song of Hiawatha,” appeared in Cope’s Tobacco Plant for November, 1871. The poem relates to snuff, but as it extends to over 200 lines it cannot be inserted here. It commences thus:—
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THE CIGAR-SMOKERS.
This is taken from a small volume of American parodies, entitled “The Song of Milkan Watha, and other poems,” by Marc Antony Henderson, D.C.L. Cincinnati: Tickell and Grinne. 1856.
Nicotina.
After Tennyson’s “Oriana.”
At a bal masqué in San Francisco a young lady appeared attired to represent Nicotine. Her dress was made of Tobacco leaves, her necklace was formed of cigars, and she carried a fan and a parasol constructed of the weed.
This is a parody of a little poem by Alfred Tennyson, published in 1833, but afterwards omitted from his works, probably because of the ridicule it received from Lord Lytton in “The New Timon”:—
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The following can scarcely be termed parodies, they are poems in praise of Tobacco written in the newly-revived but old-fashioned Ballade metre.
The University News Sheet. St. Andrews, N.B. March 3, 1886.
From Mr. Gleeson White’s collection of Ballades and Rondeaus. London, Walter Scott, 1887.
From Volumes in Folio. By Richard Le Gallienne, author of “My Ladies’ Sonnets,” etc. London, Elkin Matthews, Vigo Street, W. 1889.
A dainty little Volume of Bookish Verses.
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In the following pages the poems are thus arranged—on Tobacco generally, on the Pipe, Cigar and Cigarette, and on Snuff. No poets have been found, however, to sing the praise of chewing Tobacco, a very old form of enjoying the weed. This habit is now principally confined to sailors, soldiers, policemen and others, whose duties compel them to remain in solitude for many hours at a stretch without the solace of a pipe. The following amusing letter shows the importance a sailor attaches to his Quid:—
Gravesend, March 24, 1813.
Dear Brother Tom;
This comes hopein to find you in good health as it leaves me safe anckor’d here yesterday at 4 P.M. arter a pleasant voyage tolerable short and a few squalls.—Dear Tom—hopes to find poor old father stout, and am quite out of pig-tail.—Sights of pig-tail at Gravesend, but unfortinly not fit for a dog to chor.
Dear Tom, Captain’s boy will bring you this, and put pig-tail in his pocket when bort. Best in London at the Black Boy in 7 diles, where go acks for best pig-tail—pound a pig-tail will do, and am short of shirts. Dear Tom, as for shirts ony took 2 whereof one is quite wored out and tuther most, but don’t forget the pig-tail, as I aint had a quid to chor never since Thursday. Dear Tom, as for shirts, your size will do, only longer. I liks um long—get one at present, best at Tower-hill, and cheap, but be particler to go to 7 diles for the pig-tail at the Black Boy, and Dear Tom, acks for pound best pig-tail, and let it be good.
Captain’s boy will put the pig-tail in his pocket he likes pigtail, so ty it up. Dear Tom, shall be up about Monday there or thereabouts. Not so perticuler for the shirt, as the present can be washed, but dont forgit the pig-tail without fail, so am your loving brother,
Timothy Parsons.
P. S.—Dont forget the pig-tail.
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THE INDIAN WEED.
Many versions exist of the following very old song, and the history of it is somewhat contradictory and confusing. It has been ascribed to George Wither (1588-1667), and was originally published in 1631, in a volume entitled The Soules Solace, by Thomas Jenner. Another version was printed in 1672 in “Two Broadsides against Tobacco.”
One version commenced with the following stanza:
The most usually accepted version runs as follows:—
The next is a more modern version:—
Some additional, but very inferior stanzas, were written by the Rev. Ralph Erskine, a minister of the Scotch Church, and printed in his Gospel Sonnets, about the end of the last century. This continuation has been called
From Nicotiana, by Henry James Meller. London Effingham Wilson. 1832.
From Gimcrackiana, or Fugitive pieces on Manchester Men and Manners. Manchester, 1833. (Attributed to John Stanley Gregson.)
From “The Anatomy of Tobacco: or Smoking Methodised, Divided, and Considered after a new fashion.” By Leolinus Siluriensis. London. George Redway, 1884.
From A Pipe of Tobacco, by E. L. Blanchard. London. H. Beal. (No date.)
From The Smoker’s Guide, Philosopher and Friend, by a veteran of Smokedom. London. Hardwicke and Bogue.
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POEMS ON THE PIPE.
Attributed to Esprit de Raymond, Comte de Modène.
These extracts are taken from A Pedlar’s Pack of Ballads and Songs. Edinburgh, W. Paterson. 1869.
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From Gillott and Goosequill. By Henry S. Leigh. London, British Publishing Company. 1871.
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Some time since, in Cope’s Tobacco Plant, there was a competition for the best inscription for a Tobacco Jar. The first and second prizes were awarded to the following, and many others were printed:—
THE CIGAR.
From The Chameleon, published anonymously by Longmans, Rees & Co., London, 1833 Ascribed to T. Atkinson.
From Nicotiana, by Henry James Meller. London. Effingham Wilson. 1832.
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THE CIGARETTE.
SNUFF: AN INSPIRATION.
Sganarelle, tenant une tabatière:—
“Quoi que puissent dire Aristote et toute la philosophie, il n’est rien d’égal au tabac; c’est la passion des honnêtes gens, et qui vit sans tabac n’est pas digne de vivre. Non seulement il réjouit et purge les cerveaux humains, mais encore il instruit les âmes à la vertu, et l’on apprend avec lui à devenir honnête homme. Ne voyez-vous pas bien, dès qu’on en prend, de quelle manière obligeante on en use avec tout le monde, et comme on est ravi d’en donner à droite et à gauche, par-tout où l’on se trouve? On n’attend pas même que l’on en demande, et l’on court au-devant du souhait des gens: tant il est vrai que le tabac inspire des sentiments d’honneur et de vertu à tous ceux qui en prennent.”
Moliere. Don Juan. (1665.)
At the request of numerous subscribers the following very humorous parody of Sir Walter Scott’s “Young Lochinvar” is here given, although somewhat out of its proper order. The parody, which is a favourite piece with reciters, has been kindly sent by Mr. C. H. Stephenson, of Southport.
PADDY DUNBAR.
THE STAR.
There are five other parodies of the same original in the competition, but the two above are the most interesting.
The Revised Version.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” the nursery rhyme so familiar to everybody, has been revised by a Committee of Eminent Scholars, with the following result:
Shine with irregular, intermitted light,[28] sparkle at intervals, diminutive, luminous, heavenly body.[29]
How I conjecture, with surprise, not unmixed with uncertainty,[30] what you are,
Located, apparently, at such a remote distance[31] from and at a height so vastly superior to this earth, the planet we inhabit.
Similar in general appearance and refractory powers to the precious primitive octahedron crystal of pure carbon,[32] set in the aërial region surrounding the earth.
Merry Folks Library.
(This latter had previously appeared in Harper’s Magazine.)
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VERB SAP.
(To a Wandering Star.)
“I am willing to throw in my lot with that of my friend Huxley, and ‘to fight to the death’ against this wicked and cowardly surrender. A desperate gamester, miscalled a Statesman, has chosen to invoke ignorant foreign opinion against the instructed opinion of his own countrymen.”—Professor Tyndall’s last Letter to the Times.
The political adventurer Boulanger, having done all he could to embarrass the French Government, and to create disturbances on the eve of the opening of the great Paris Exhibition, ignominiously fled to Belgium, when he found that his selfish and unpatriotic conduct was likely to bring upon him the punishment he deserved. Whilst in Brussels he issued a ridiculously theatrical manifesto, whereupon the Belgian Government hinted that his presence was undesirable in that country, and in April last he sought refuge in London. His reception was cool, and in a few days he was completely forgotten. Boulanger, who is fifty-two years of age, has none of the qualities necessary in a man who aspires to be a great political leader, and had he not been supported by the wealth and influence of the re-actionary parties in France, he would long since have sunk back into his native obscurity.
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.
From Emigration Realised, a poem, &c., by S. C. C. (i.e. Chase), London. Saunders & Otley, 1855.
The Spider, by Sir W. Y. Harcourt.
The Fly, by Mr. Joseph Chamberlain.
There was a parody in Will-o’-the-Wisp, March 20, 1869, entitled “The Abbess and the Maid” concerning a law suit which attracted much attention at the time, but is now forgotten. It commenced:—
Another long political parody in The London Figaro, August 7, 1886, commenced:—
Another appeared in Punch, June 30, 1888, soon after Mr. W. E. Gladstone had given his vote in favour of Watkin’s scheme for the Channel Tunnel. Two verses may be quoted:—
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This not very brilliant political parody will be found in an anonymous pamphlet entitled “Glad-Par-Stonell-Iana.” Waterlow & Sons, 1889.
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NURSERY RHYMES.
Parodies on Nursery Rhymes and Children’s Songs, which were interrupted in order to introduce those relating to Smoking, can now be resumed, as a few good ones still remain to be quoted. When the late Mr. J. O. Halliwell (Halliwell-Phillipps) first brought out his collection of Nursery Rhymes, his friend James Robinson Planché, the dramatist, wrote some little humourous skits on them. These were merely meant for playful badinage, but a few lines may be quoted from them:—
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The Prince of Wales was christened on January 25, 1842, for which occasion a very handsome cake was prepared, but it was remarked that it remained uncut, the Queen appearing unwilling to spoil this remarkable specimen of confectionary.
A Nursery Ballad, entitled “The Christening Cake,” was published on the occasion, (by Mr. John Lee, of 440, West Strand,) from which a few extracts may be quoted:—
This ballad shows that the Queen had a reputation for parsimony as long ago as 1842, the moral it enforces is similar to that contained in the old Nursery Rhyme the ballad parodies, concerning the famous plum Pudding of King Arthur:—
It is somewhat curious that Poets should so often select incidents in the lives of Royal personages as topics for their poems, considering how ephemeral is the interest they excite.
The above ballad was, of course, only a burlesque, and had no claim to longevity, but of all the serious adulatory poems written about the Queen, and her family, during the last fifty years how many have survived? With the exception of some few lines in Tennyson’s Dedications and Odes, the present generation knows nothing of them.
Where is Leigh Hunt’s poem on the birth of the Princess Royal? Where is Professor Aytoun’s Ode on the Marriage of the Prince of Wales? Where, oh, where is Mr. Lewis Morris’s Ode for the Opening of the Imperial Institute? Forgotten, all forgotten, and nearly as obsolete as the Birthday Odes of the Poets-Laureate Eusden, Warton, and Pye.
Who reads or remembers Martin F. Tupper’s Welcome to the Princess Alexandra?
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In justice to Mr. Tupper it must be admitted that these are not exactly his lines, but only a very fair parody of them taken from The Lays of the Saintly, by Mr. Walter Parke. (London, Vizetelly, 1882.)
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DR. FELL.
This little nursery rhyme claims ancient lineage. In Thomas Forde’s “Virtus Rediviva,” 1661, in a collection of familiar letters, is the following passage:—
“There are some natures so Hetrogenious, that the 169 streightest, and most gordion knot of Wedlock is not able to twist, of which the Epigrammatist (Martial) speaks my mind better than I can myself:—
>Take the English in the words of a gentleman to his wife:—
The following is Clément Marot’s version as given in Chapsal’s ‘Modèles de Littérature Française,’ ii. p. 26:—
Another version, by Roger de Bussy, Comte de Rabutin (ob. 1693), ran as follows:—
Born August 9, 1631. | Died May 1, 1700.
(Was Poet Laureate from 1670 till the accession of William III. in 1688, when he was superceded by a Protestant poet, Thomas Shadwell.)
In the year 1683, a musical society was formed in London for the celebration of St. Cecilia’s Day, and from that time a festival was held annually on November the 22nd in Stationers’ Hall, and an Ode, composed for the occasion, was sung. These festivals continued, with a few interruptions, down to the year 1744, and some were held at even a later date; but these celebrations must not be confounded with the performances given by the “Cecilian” Society, which was established in 1785.
A collection of the Odes, written for the Festival of St. Cecilia’s Day, was first formed by Mr. William Henry Husk, Librarian of the Sacred Harmonic Society, and published by Bell and Daldy in 1857, in “An Account of the Musical Celebrations on St. Cecilia’s Day. To which is appended a Collection of Odes on St. Cecilia’s Day.” It is unnecessary to enumerate them all here, but as Odes written by Nahum Tate, John Dryden, Thomas Shadwell, Samuel Wesley, Joseph Addison, William Congreve, Alexander Pope, and the burlesque Ode by Bonnell Thornton are included, the volume has considerable literary interest.
John Dryden wrote a song for the Festival of November, 1687, but his great Ode, “Alexander’s Feast; or, the Power of Music,” was written and performed in 1697. For this poem it is said Dryden received forty pounds, its success was so great that it was frequently performed at later festivals, and in 1736 “Alexander’s Feast” was set to music by Handel. The poem has been frequently parodied, it will therefore be convenient to give the original Ode, followed by the parodies, or such parts of them as are fit for re-publication, for it must be confessed that some of the earlier imitations are excessively coarse.
ALEXANDER’S FEAST.
The following Parody will be found in a scarce little volume entitled “Pranceriana Poetica, or Prancer’s Garland. Being a Collection of Fugitive Poems written since the publication of Pranceriana and the Appendix. Dublin: Printed in the year M.DCC.LXXIX.” This volume opens with a very satirical dedication to the Right Honourable Sir J—n B—q—re, Knight of the Bath, Alnager of all Ireland, and Bailiff of Phœnix Park; in this he is taken to task for “placing the most improper man in the Kingdom at the head of our College.” The College alluded to was Trinity College, Dublin, and the individual who had been appointed at its head was nicknamed the “Prancer,” as “more fit to be a dancing master than a Provost.”
“To commemorate the Naval Review at Portsmouth, the Oratorio of Alexander’s Feast is to be performed at one of the Theatres Royal, by command of his Majesty, with the following alterations, by William Whitehead, Esq; Poet Laureate.”
ALEXANDER’S FEAST, PARODIED;
This parody, relating to the famous O. P. riots, will be found in The Covent Garden Journal, 1810, which contains a full account of that curious theatrical episode.
A long political parody of Dryden’s Ode, relating to Irish affairs, and entitled Ode to St. Patrick’s Day, appeared in Vol. ix. of The Spirit of the Public Journals, 1806, and in Vol. xvi. of the same series, (1813) was a parody describing a law case. It commenced:—
“’Twas where the fam’d Home Circuit is begun.”
Neither of these parodies possesses any interest for modern readers.
Another parody, of which only the title can be given, was “W——S’s Feast, or Dryden Travesti; a mock Pindarick: addressed to his most Incorruptible Highness, Prince Patriotism.”
The remainder of this parody refers to political events of little interest to modern readers.
It is taken from Posthumous Parodies, an anonymous collection of poems having a strong Tory bias, published in London by John Miller, 1814.
Commemoration Day.
Commemoration day: a day devoted to prayers and good living, i.e., feasting.
“Who leads a good life is sure to live well.”—Old Song.
The following Ode on a College Feast Day, will hardly be read with dry lips, or mouths that do not water. Whoever 173 was the author of it, he certainly appears to have been a man of taste.
From The Gradus ad Cantabrigiam. By a Brace of Cantabs. London. Printed for John Hearne, 1824. It had previously appeared in The Spirit of the Public Journals for 1799. London, 1800.
From The Cambridge Odes, by Peter Persius. Cambridge W. H. Smith. No date.
This refers to a meeting held at Kennington in connection with the Chartist agitation, when certain reforms were demanded, which were then ridiculed as revolutionary, but which have since either been granted, or else have come within the scope of practical political discussion.
In November 1884 Mr. Alexander Henderson produced a new comic opera at the Comedy Theatre, London, entitled The Great Mogul. In this piece Miss Florence St. John had to appear with live snakes writhing about her, an innovation which was not appreciated by the audience, whilst the songs written by H. B. Farnie, were received with derision. Although the house was packed with the friends of the Lessee, on the opening night (for no money was taken at the 175 doors) the opera met with a very cool reception, and the following parody appeared in The Referee on November 23, 1884:
Lines printed under the Engraved Portrait of John Milton.
Mr. Malone suggested that the idea of these lines was borrowed by Dryden from Salvaggi’s Latin distich:—
But in a little work, printed in 1676, entitled “Anima Astrologia,” a verse occurs which bears a much nearer resemblance to Dryden’s epigram:—
These lines allude to Jerome Cardan, the Astrologer (1501-1576), to William Lilly, also an Astrologer (1602-1681), and to Ubaldo Guido, an Italian Mathematician (1540-1601). Dryden was a firm believer in astrology, and as he must, in all probability, have been well acquainted with this book, it is probable these lines were in his mind when he composed his own more polished epigram.
On page 233, Vol. 2, of this Collection, a number of parodies of the Epigram will be found, but the following imitations were accidentally omitted.
There is a little confusion in these lines, both Madame Agnesi and Mrs. Somerville were born in the same “age” if by that century is meant, and although Hypatia talked Greek she was an Egyptian, whilst Mrs. Somerville was not English at all, having been born in Scotland. Hypatia, a female philosopher in Alexandria, was brutally murdered by an ignorant mob; Madame Agnesi, an Italian lady of great scientific attainments, died a Blue Nun in a convent at Milan in 1799. Mrs. Mary Somerville wrote several scientific books, of which perhaps the best known was “The Connection of the Physical Sciences.”
By Dr. James Drake, then an Undergrad of St. John’s College, Cambridge, printed in Anonymiana, 1809.
Biographies of John Dryden are so numerous and accessible that it is unnecessary here to discuss the weak points of his character. To use the mildest language possible, he was a time-server, a turncoat, and a court sycophant. He had written in praise of Oliver Cromwell, he wrote equally laudatory verses on Charles II., he had strongly defended the Protestant religion, yet within a twelvemonth of the accession of the Catholic James II. the following entry appeared in Evelyn’s Diary, January 19, 1686: “Dryden, the famous play writer, and his two sons, and Mrs. Nelly (Miss to the late King) were said to go to mass; such proselytes were no great loss to the Church.” His conversion brought him Court patronage, and in April 1687 he published a defence of his new religion in verse, entitled “The Hind and the Panther.” This was a long allegorical poem in which the Hind represented the Catholic Church, and the Panther the Protestant Church of England. It gave rise to much controversy, and many burlesques were written upon it, ridiculing the work, and the character of its author. The most famous of these parodies was one of exquisite humour, the joint production of Charles Montague (the future Earl of Halifax) and Matthew Prior. This was called “The Hind and the Panther Transversed to the story of the Country Mouse and the City Mouse.” The principal characters in the famous farce The Rehearsal, Bayes, Smith, and Johnson, were revived in this witty production, which is unfortunately much too long to reprint. Dryden’s poem commences:—
The first lines of the parody are:—
Born May 21, 1688. | Died May 30, 1744.
Dryden’s Odes for St. Cecilia’s Day have already been mentioned, and in 1708 Pope was also induced, by Richard Steele, to write an ode for the annual festival. This is acknowledged to be the finest poem of its kind that had appeared since Dryden’s odes were produced. In fact, as Pope himself said, “Many people would like my ode on music better if Dryden had never written on that subject. It was at the request of Mr. Steele that I wrote mine; and not with any thought of rivalling that great man, whose memory I do, and have always reverenced.”
Pope chose the mythological story of Orpheus and Eurydice as the theme for his ode; it is too long to quote in full, but the first verse, and last quatrain, will serve as key notes for the parodies which follow.
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In 1749 Bonnell Thornton published a humorous burlesque upon the Cecilian odes, under the title of “An Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day, adapted to the Ancient British Musick,” which is said to have been set to music with characteristic accompaniments by Dr. Arne, and performed on the Saint’s day, November 22, 1749. This appears somewhat doubtful, it was however set to music in 1759 by Dr. Burney, who has left the following account of his work and its performance: “In 1759 I set for Smart and Newbery, Thornton’s Burlesque Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day. It was performed at Ranelagh in masks, to a very crowded audience, as I was told, for I then resided in Norfolk. Beard sang the Salt-box song, which was admirably accompanied on that instrument by Brent, the fencing master, and father of Miss Brent, the celebrated singer; Skeggs on the broomstick as bassoon, and a remarkable performer on the Jew’s Harp, ‘Buzzing twangs the iron lyre.’ Cleavers were cast in bell metal for this entertainment. All the performers of the Old Woman’s oratory, employed by Foote, were, I believe, employed at Ranelagh on this occasion.”
Boswell mentions that Dr. Johnson was much diverted with the humour of this ode.
An Ode on
Saint Cecilia’s Day.
Adapted to the Antient British Musick: viz. The Salt-Box, the Jew’s Harp, the Marrow-Bones and Cleavers, the Hum-Strum or Hurdy Gurdy, etc.
With an introduction, giving some account of these truly British Instruments.
By Bonnell Thornton, Esquire.
The Preface, which is too long to quote in full, concludes with the following remarks. “If this Ode contributes in the least to lessen our false taste in admiring that foreign Musick now so much in vogue, and to recall the ancient British spirit, together with the ancient British harmony, I shall not think the pains I employed on the composition entirely flung away on my countrymen. This Ode, I am sensible, is not without faults; though I cannot 179 help thinking it far superior to the odes of Johnny Dryden, Joe Addison, Sawney Pope, Nick Rowe, little Kit Smart, etc, etc, etc, or of any that have written, or shall write on St. Cecilia’s day.”
“I have strictly adhered to the rule of making the sound echo to the sense.”
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MOCK HEROIC POEMS.
Numerous imitations exist of Pope’s Dunciad, and the poets of the last century, and the early years of this, exercised considerable ingenuity in ringing the changes on the title, as will be seen from the following list. It must not, however, be concluded that the works mentioned are all parodies, except in the cases where the opening lines are quoted. One of the most scholarly of these productions was “The Scribleriad,” written by Richard Owen Cambridge, and published in 1751. In his preface he mentions Boileau’s Lutrin, Garth’s Dispensary, and Pope’s Rape of the Lock and Dunciad, each of which, he considers, have a thousand beauties, but neither of which comes up to the true idea of a Mock-Heroic Poem. In fact he does not believe it was the primary idea of either of the authors to write a Mock-Heroic, whereas that was the task he set 180 himself in composing The Scribleriad. He gives the following apposite remarks on Parody:—
“The Athenians were so fond of Parody, that they eagerly applauded it, without examining with what propriety or connection it was introduced. Aristophanes showed no sort of regard to either, in his ridicule of Euripides; but brings in the characters as well as verses of his tragedies, in many of his plays, though they have no connection with the plot of the play, nor any relation to the scene in which they are introduced. This love of Parody is accounted for by an excellent French critic, from a certain malignity in mankind, which prompts them to laugh at what they most esteem, thinking they, in some measure, repay themselves for that involuntary tribute which is exacted from them by merit.”
The Baviad, a paraphrastic imitation of the First satire of Persius, by William Gifford. London, 1794. This was written to ridicule a certain clique of self-admirationists known as the “Della-Cruscan school,” and was very effectual in its object. It was followed by The Maeviad, by the same author, which completed the work The Baviad had commenced, and the spurious poetry of the Della-Cruscan school was laughed out of existence. The footnotes to these satires are delicious reading, as Gifford has selected the most amusing examples of bathos, and inflated nonsense, from the poems of Anna Matilda, Merry, Parsons, Jerningham, Bell, Mrs. Robinson, and Della-Crusca, to illustrate his points.
The Beeriad, or Progress of Drink. An Heroic Poem, in Two Cantos, the first being an imitation of The Dunciad, the second a description of a Ram Feast, held annually in a particular small district of Hampshire. By a Gentleman in the Navy. Gosport. J. Philpot. 1736.
The first canto of this poem is printed side by side with a reprint of the first book of Pope’s Dunciad.
The Beeriad commences thus:—
The Billiad, or how to criticise, a satire, with the Dirge of the Repeal (of the Irish Union) and other Jeux d’Esprit. By T. M. Hughes. Illustrated. 1846.
The Blueviad, a Satirical Poem, by E. Goulburn, Royal Horse Guards. London, 1805.
The author remarks, “The following ridiculous lines contain the description of some characters that once formed a Regiment of Volunteers.”
The Burniad; an Epistle to a Lady, in the manner of Burns, with Poetic Miscellanies, by J. H. Kenny. 1808.
The Consuliad. A Mock Heroic Poem, by Thomas Chatterton. This short poem is to be found amongst the works of the poor Bristol boy, he sold it to a Mr. Fell for ten shillings and sixpence at the time when he was slowly starving to death in London. It commenced thus:—
There are passages in this satire of surprising power and originality for the work of a boy of seventeen years of age.
The Censoriad, a Poem, written originally by Martin Gulliver, illustrated with curious annotations. 1730.
The Chessiad, by C. Dibden the Younger. With other poems, by the same author, 1825.
The Christiad, a sacred heroic poem, translated by Cranwell from Vida. No date.
The Dapiad, a mock-heroic poem, by J. Randall. Barnstaple: printed by J. Avery, 1806.
The Diaboliad, a Poem dedicated to the Worst Man in His Majesty’s Dominions. London. G. Kearsley, 1677. The date given is evidently a misprint for 1777, as David Garrick, who is named in the Preface, was not born until 1716. This work has been ascribed to Combe.
Anti-Diabo-Lady. Respectfully dedicated to all the Women in Her Majesty’s Dominions in general; and to the Best of Them in Particular, calculated to expose the Malevolence of the Author of Diabo-Lady. London, 1777. Quarto 18 pp. (A satire in verse.)
The Dispensary. A poem in six Cantos, by Sir Samuel Garth. London, 1696.
The Druriad, or Strictures on the principal performers of Drury Lane Theatre. A Satirical Poem. Quarto. 1798.
The Electriad: A Tale of the Trojan War. “Homer down to Date,” by a G. O. M. London. The Pall Mall Electric Association. About 1885. Price sixpence. This anonymous advertising pamphlet was illustrated with portraits of the most eminent men of the day, represented as suffering from various ailments, and
The Fijiad, or English Nights Entertainments, by an author of The Siliad. Beeton’s Fifteenth Christmas Annual. Illustrated. London: Ward, Lock, and Tyler.
The Fribbleriad. This was first printed in 1761, and was afterwards included in The Repository, vol. 2. It was addressed to a certain individual “X. Y. Z.,” who had been guilty of publishing an Essay containing an unfavourable criticism of David Garrick.
The Female Dunciad, containing:—I. A Faithful account of the Intrigues, Gallantries, and Amours of Alexander Pope, of Twickenham, Esq., written by Himself. II. A Satire upon the Court Lords and Ladies. Written also by him in the year 1717. III. A Single Instance of his Repentance. IV. The New Surprising Metamorphosis; or, Mr. Pope turn’d into a Stinging Nettle; being a Familiar Epistle from a Gentleman in Town to a Lady in the Country. Occasioned by reading the Dunciad. V. Irish Artifice; or, the History of Clarina. A Novel, by Mrs. Eliza Haywood. VI. Female Worthies, by the Bishop of Peterborough. The whole being a Continuation of the Twickenham Hotch-Potch. London. T. Read, White-Fryers. 1728.
The Hilliad: an Epic Poem by Christopher Smart, A.M., Fellow of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. 1753. This was a satire on a certain Dr. Hill, it commenced as follows:—
The Lentiad; or, Peter the Pope and his Pioneers the Pusey men. Together with Anti-Pentateuchal Prelates, Broad-church and Balaam-ass-men, Pommelled and Pounded with a Hudibrastic cudgel.
By a Beefeater, domestic chaplain to Fill-pots. Edited by Rev. John Allen. London: William Freeman, Fleet Street. 1863.
More than 400 closely-printed pages of similar fustian to this are devoted to abuse of the Pope and his Church; coarse denunciations of the High Church party, and the Puseyites, Bishop Colenso and his works.
The Lousiad, an Heroi-Comic Poem, in five cantos. By Peter Pindar, Esq. (Dr. John Wolcott.) The introduction to this satire runs as follows: “It is necessary to inform thee, Gentle Reader, that His Majesty (George III.) actually discovered, some time ago, as he sat at table, a louse on his plate. An edict was, in consequence, passed for shaving the cooks, scullions, etc., and the unfortunate louse was condemned to die.”
Such is the foundation of The Lousiad, of which the ingenious author, who ought to be allowed to know somewhat of the matter, hath been heard privately to declare, that, in his opinion, the Batrachomyomachia of Homer, the Secchia Rapita of Tassoni, the Lutrin of Boileau, the Dispensary of Garth, and the Rape of the Lock of Pope, are not to be compared to it.
The Mobiad, or battle of the Voices: an Heroi-Comic Poem, sportively satirical, being a briefly historical, natural and lively, free and humorous description of an Exeter Election, by Democritus Juvenal (A. Brice) with notes &c., Exeter, 1770.
The Modern Dunciad, a Satire; with notes, biographical and critical. London. Effingham Wilson, 1814. With a frontispiece by George Cruikshank. This anonymous work, written in imitation of the first satire of Persius, was devoted to the ridicule of the minor poets of the day, most of whom are now entirely forgotten:—
Alluding to Rosa Matilda’s effusions; M. G. Lewis, author of “The Monk;” Gifford’s attack on the Della Cruscans; Amos Cottle’s poems, and the satirical works of Dr. John Wolcot, known as “Peter Pindar.”)
The Mæviad, by William Gifford, 1795. In imitation of a satire of Horace, and directed against the Della-Cruscan school of Poetry. See The Baviad.
The Moneiad: or The Power of Money. By the Rev. W. P. Macdonald, late Chaplain of the Regiment of Roll. London. James Harper, 46 Fleet Street. 1818.
It contains an early poem, entitled “Sir Penny, or the Power of Money.” The work was dedicated to the Duke of Kent.
The New Dunciad. Facts and anecdotes illustrative of the iniquitous practises of Anonymous Critics, 1806.
This is a prose commentary on the critics, published by Tegg, London, and has no relation to Pope’s Dunciad.
The New Dunciad, as it was found in the year 1741, 182 with the Illustrations of Scriblerus, and Notes Variorum. London. J. H. Hubbard 1742.
The New Dunciad. This appeared in parts in a London penny paper called The Jester, the first number of which was published February 23, 1889. It was a weak attempt to satirise some of the celebrities of the day, and was destitute of interest, or poetical merit.
The Obliviad: A Satire, with notes, together with additional Notes, Preface, and Supplement, by the American Editor. And the Perpetual Commentary of the Athenæum. New York. James Millar, Broadway. London, B. Quaritch, 15, Piccadilly. 1879.
This is a very remarkable book, it consists of about 350 pages in all, of which at least two thirds are occupied by Notes, critical, satirical, and biographical, dealing with the principal writers of the day, in a most unmerciful manner. Even The Saturday Review, which itself has a reputation for sharp speaking, remarked (June 28, 1879):—“The Obliviad is a laborious imitation of the Dunciad, somewhat more universally insolent in its treatment of contemporary authors than any other satire in prose or verse that we remember.”
Naturally a book which could speak with fearless truth of the writings of such men as Tennyson, Robert Browning, Swinburne, Dickens, Hepworth Dixon, and Robert Buchanan created a sensation, but unfortunately the author was almost too indiscriminate in his censures, for whilst everyone admits that the above named authors have occasionally written absurd and nonsensical works, it is equally certain that they did not, in the first place, make their names and fames in that manner.
The Obliviad has been attributed to Dr. William Leech of New York.
The Olympiad. A Satirical Poem.
The Puffiad, a Satire, with a dedication to “Those who don’t like it,” a Critique for their use, and copious Introductory Epistle to an Eminent Puffer. 1828.
The Rodiad, by George Coleman, 1813. This relates to Flagellation:
The Rosciad. By Charles Churchill. 1761.
The Rolliad, or more correctly, Criticisms on the Rolliad, for the poem itself (except in some disjointed extracts introduced as examples) existed only in the fertile brains of the authors of this satire on Mr. Rolle (afterwards Lord Rolle), who was elected M.P. for Devon in 1784, in the Tory interest. When The Rolliad first appeared it had a great success, and rapidly ran through many editions, but time has cast into oblivion most of its allusions, and the characters introduced are well nigh forgotten. The Rolliad was written by several authors, and parts have been ascribed to George Ellis, General Fitzpatrick, and Joseph Richardson M.P. Lord Rolle died in 1842.
The Rational Rosciad, in two parts, 1767.
The Rape of the Bucket, an Heroi-Comical Poem by Tassoni, translated with Notes, by J. Atkinson. 1825.
The Scribleriad: an Heroic Poem. In six books. London: R. Dodsley in Pall Mall 1751, quarto, with curious illustrations. This satire was written to ridicule the errors of false taste and false learning, and was pronounced, by a contemporary critic, to be a work of great fancy and poetical elegance. The author, Mr. Richard Owen Cambridge, is highly spoken of by Boswell, in his life of Dr. Johnson.
The Siliad, or the Siege of the Seats. Beeton’s Christmas Annual, fourteenth season. London. Ward, Lock and Tyler. An Illustrated Political Satire, by the authors of “The Coming K—.” 1873.
The Spiritual Dunciad; or, Oxford “Tracks” to Popery. A Satire with Notes and Appendix by Robert Dick, M.D., C.M. London, C. Westerton, 1859. This was a bitter attack on the Roman Catholic religion;
The Tauroboliad; or, the Sacrifice of the Constitution. A Satire. 1831.
The Thespiad; a Poem. 1809.
The Tommiad; a Biographical Fancy, written about the year 1842. London. Anonymous.
The Toriad; a Poem. By Eupolis. London. Wightman & Co., 1837. 18 pp. octavo, Price one shilling.
The Triad. By W. Wiekenden, 1855.
The Victoriad; or, New World, an Epic Poem. By E. Carrington. A curious work which the author modestly considered was written in the simple classic style of Dante.
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There are many passages in Pope’s writings which might well be spared on account of their indelicacy, yet they are innocent and pure as compared with some of the satires launched at him by his enemies and rivals. The greater number of these are too gross to be republished in a work intended for general readers, as are also the three principal and most amusing parodies of his works.
Pope’s Essay on Man was the subject of a parody, entitled The Essay on Woman; his Eloisa to Abelard was burlesqued in Eloisa en Déshabille; and The Rape of the Lock was parodied in a poem entitled The Rape of the Smock.
183 In an article on John Wilkes published in The Athenæum in 1874, it was stated that the charge against him of having written the infamous Essay upon Woman must now be given up. “It is as clear as is any fact in history, that whoever wrote the Essay, Wilkes, at all events, did not. Wilkes was prosecuted for it, and was convicted, not however for being the author of the poem, but for having published it. All the statements on the trial go to show that the original Essay was printed in red letter, and with a frontispiece, and an engraved title.”
Much has been written about this parody, but its authorship is still shrouded in mystery. In 1763 The Rev. John Kidgell published “A Narrative of a scandalous, obscene, and exceedingly profane libel, entitled An Essay on Woman” to which an answer was printed in the same year. Both of these tracts are in the British Museum. The Essay on Woman has been recently re-published by private subscription, but is still what is called a scarce book.
Eloisa en Déshabille: Being a Parody of Mr. Pope’s celebrated Epistle of that young lady to Abelard. By a late celebrated Greek Professor, dedicated to the Loungers of Great Britain and Ireland. 1810.
This witty but indelicate poem has been generally ascribed to Professor Porson, the famous Greek scholar, who frequently quoted passages from it. But it seems more probable that it was written by Colonel J. Matthews, the brother of the author of “The Diary of an Invalid.”
The Rape of the Smock. An Heroi-comical Poem. In Two Books. London. R. Burleigh, in Amen Corner. 1717. Price one shilling. With a quaint illustration.
This poem, which is by no means difficult to obtain, is generally ascribed to Lady Mary Wortley Montague, the friend and correspondent of Pope. The most remarkable feature about it is that it could have been written and published by a lady of rank and fashion.
An Elegy written in an Empty Assembly Room Published (anonymously) by R. & J. Dodsley, London, 1766, was a parody on some of the most remarkable passages in Pope’s Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard, but the subject does not inspire interest, and the parody has little humour.
A French parody of this famous poem by Pope also exists, entitled “Histoire des amours et des infortunes d’Abelard et d’Eloise mise en vers satiré-comi-burlesques,” par M. Armand. Cologne, Pierre Marteau, 1724.
Another parody of the same passage is given “after a bad dinner” in “Anecdotes, Historical and Literary,” published in London by Vernor and Hood in 1796.
An imitation of Pope’s Universal Prayer will be found on page 115 of The Pleasures of Nature by D. Carey. 1803.
184A Parody of Achilles’ Speech,
Pope’s Homer, Book I, line 309.
(Occasioned by the author hearing of a Clergyman who, in a violent fit of anger, threw his wig into the fire, and turned his son out of doors.)
From The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge. London. Cadell and Davies, 1803.
It is sometimes objected to parodies, that they tend to bring into ridicule the finest productions of genius; but this is an imaginary, rather than a real ground of complaint. Who does not admire the Mantuan Poet though Cotton has burlesqued his Æneid? And though the Iliad has been more than once travestied, do we not still dwell with enthusiastic pleasure on every line attributed to Homer? We see therefore no need of apology in submitting to our readers a parody of the following beautiful lines of Pope:—
In Posthumous Parodies (1814) there is a paraphrase of a passage in Pope’s “Temple of Fame,” it commences thus:
George Canning, C. J. Fox, R. B. Sheridan, Warren Hastings, Burke and Windham are the other politicians alluded to in this poem.
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Pope’s prologue to Addison’s tragedy of Cato is justly considered one of the finest prologues in the language. The following parody of it is taken from a little tract entitled “A Succinct Description of that Elaborate Pile of Art, called the Microcosm. With a short account of the Solar System.” Coventry. Printed for the Proprietor Mr. Edward Davis, 1763. The Microcosm was constructed by Mr. Henry Bridges of Waltham Abbey, architect, it was in the form of a Roman Temple, ten feet high by six feet broad in the basis, and was designed to give the spectator instruction in architecture, sculpture and astronomy.
“The following parody (on Pope’s prologue to Cato) was addressed to Mr. Henry Bridges, constructor of that elaborate piece of mechanism. The Microcosm, by Dr. Burton, of Yarmouth.”
The Rape of the Cake.
A COVENT-GARDEN ECLOQUE.
Inscribed to the Musical Band of Covent-garden theatre, on account of the recent theft of their twelfth-cake.
A volume of poems by T. Flatman, published in 1674, contains a poem entitled A Thought on Death from which Pope must have borrowed his ode “The Dying Christian to his Soul:”—
So far Pope, compare Flatman:—
Pope was the author of numerous imitations of other Poets, such as Chaucer, Spenser, Waller, Abraham Cowley, the Earl of Rochester, the Earl of Dorset, and Dean Swift. The poem in imitation of Chaucer is somewhat coarse, that after Dr. Swift will be quoted later on, under that author’s name.
COLIN’S COMPLAINT.
Nicholas Rowe, Born 1673, Died 1718.
Poet Laureate 1715 to 1718.
Nicholas Rowe wrote several tragedies and some poems, but the above is almost the only specimen which has any life in it. A Latin version, entitled “Corydon Querens” will be found in Vincent Bourne’s works.
From Carols of Cockayne, by Henry S. Leigh. London, Chatto and Windus, 1874.
A Burlesque Ode by Tobias Smollett.
Lord Lyttleton was not only the patron of poets, but was also a minor poet himself. He married, in 1741, Miss Lucy Fortescue, whose death five years afterwards gave him a theme for a monody which contained the following lines:—
Smollett, who considered that his merits had been neglected by Lord Lyttleton, wrote the following parody on this monody:—
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From The Lays of the Mocking Sprite. Cambridge. W. Metcalfe & Sons.
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ODE,
(In the Manner of Dr. Samuel Johnson.)
Addressed to a Girl in the Temple, 1777.
From The Wiccamical Chaplet. Edited by George Huddesford. London, Leigh, Sotheby & Son, 1804.
Dr. Johnson wrote the following lines as a skit on the style of Dr. Warton, then Poet-Laureate:—
Dr. Johnson wrote the Prologue for the opening of Drury Lane Theatre, in 1747, which was spoken by David Garrick, it commenced with the well known lines:—
This was the subject of a political parody in Posthumous Parodies (London, 1814) of which it is only necessary to quote a few lines:—
Born 1553. | Died January 16, 1599.
Appointed Poet-Laureate 1590.
Although there are not many parodies extant of Spenser’s poetry, yet the beautiful metre which he invented, and used with such success in The Faerie Queene, has been since imitated, or adopted by many of our leading poets. This will be seen by the following list of works, written in the Spenserian stanza, which has been compiled with great care, by Mr. Jonathan Bouchier, of Ropley.
The following is the title of a small book written in imitation of Spenser’s style:—
“An original Canto of Spencer (sic): Designed as part of his Fairy Queen, but never Printed.”—Now made Publick by Nestor Ironside Esq.—The Second Edition. London. Printed for James Roberts, near the Oxford Arms in Warwick Lane, MDCCXIV.
Born, 1667. | Died, October 29, 1745.
From The Foundling Hospital for Wit, Vol. IV. 1786.
In the works of Oliver Goldsmith two poetical imitations of Dean Swift appear, one is entitled “A new Simile in the Manner of Swift,” the other, and the more amusing, is given below.
(“Baron” Brown, the Durham Poet.)
Hone’s Every Day Book, (Vol. II, p. 1218) contains a record of the career, and a portrait of this eccentric individual, who lived in Newcastle-on-Tyne during the first quarter of the present century, when he published a series of extraordinary writings which he considered Poems, and assumed the title of Poet-Laureate. Brown was known to be inordinately vain, and many letters were sent him purporting to come from the leading poets and authors of the day. All of these he believed to be genuine, and would show them to his friends, (who were frequently the real authors) with much pride. These letters, which were chiefly in verse, were produced by the law and medical students of Durham and Newcastle, and of the Catholic College of Ushaw. In 1821, Brown received a large parchment signed G.R. attested by Messrs. Canning and Peel, to which was suspended a large unmeaning seal, which he believed to be the great seal of Great Britain, conferring upon him the title of Baron Brown of Durham, in the County Palatine of Durham, in consequence of a translation of his works having been the means of converting the Mogul empire. From that moment he assumed the name and style of “Baron Brown,” and had a wooden box made for the preservation of his patent. Of the poems that were sent to him only the following fragments have been preserved:—
The first is an imitation of Wilson’s Isle of Palms.
The next was supposed to be written by Sir Walter Scott. (Lady of the Lake.)
There was also a respectable burlesque of The Ancient Mariner, commencing:—
It is a pity that only these few extracts were preserved by Mr. John Sykes in his “Local Records, or Historical Register of Remarkable Events,” 1824.
These lines were written in August, 1808, by Connop 193 Thirlwall, a precocious youth of eleven years of age, on the occasion of receiving the present of a copy of Bloomfield’s poem, “The Plough Boy.” The little work from which “The Pot-boy” is extracted, is entitled “Primitiæ; or Essays and Poems,” by Connop Thirlwall, with a preface by his father, the Rev, Thomas Thirlwall, M.A., who asserts that these Essays and Poems were entirely composed by his son before he was eleven years of age, a statement which requires considerable credulity from the reader.
Born Oct. 29, 1796. | Died Dec. 27, 1820.
The following imitation of two Odes by John Keats is taken from The Diversions of the Echo Club, by Bayard Taylor:—
Keats Improved.
“In his opinion, a railway was in itself a beautiful object.”—Mr. Labouchere in the Debate on the Ambleside Railway Bill.
The best known work of this poet “The Angel in the House,” published in 1855, was the subject of the following parody written by Shirley Brooks in 1860:
From The Puppet Showman’s Album. Illustrated by Gavarni. No date.
This little ballad, which is taken from Mopsa the Fairy, by Jean Ingelow (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1869) is supposed to have been the original which C. S. Calverley had in his mind when he composed the amusing parody commencing:—
This ballad has already been alluded to, and some imitations of it given on p. 71 of this volume.
It will be found in Fly Leaves, by C. S. Calverley (London: George Bell & Sons, 1878), in which there is another burlesque imitation of Miss Jean Ingelow’s poetry, entitled—
Admirers of Miss Ingelow’s fiction may be interested in knowing the history of those funny little bits of verse with which she enlivened the later chapters of “Fated to be Free.” There can be no doubt that they were intended as a delicate kind of retaliation to Mr. Calverley. As he, who was a cunning master of every kind of metre, had thought fit to directly parody Miss Ingelow’s most popular pieces, by exposing and exaggerating all her worst faults, it was only natural that she should seek to be revenged in kind. But it is clear that the lady cannot cope with Calverley in parody. Her verses read more like deliberate nonsense, and lack the faculty of imitation of style in which he excelled. The following satirical lines, from “Fated to be Free” illustrate this point, “Crayshaw” having been substituted for “Calverley,” doubtless for the sake of the rhyme:—
From Diversions of the Echo Club, by Bayard Taylor.
In a volume of poems by Miss Jean Ingelow, published in 1880, there was a long one entitled The Letter L, which gave rise to the following parody, printed in “The Daily News” of December 4, 1885.
This was at the time of the general election, when the returns were daily being scanned with great interest, and the C’s and L’s and P’s were eagerly counted up by all politicians.
Messrs. George Bell & Sons have recently published an interesting collection entitled, “Horace’s Odes, Englished and Imitated” selected and arranged by Charles W. G. Cooper. This contains several burlesque imitations of Horace’s Odes, but not the following, which are certainly also worthy of preservation.
Mr. Shirley Brooks wrote many other humorous translations of Horace, which will be found in his Wit and Humour. London, Bradbury & Co. 1883.
From Gradus ad Cantabrigiam by a Brace of Cantabs. London, 1824.
Thackeray also wrote some humourous versions of Horace, which are familiar to everyone. In 1862 a small volume entitled Railway Horace, by G. Chichester Oxenden, was published by Upham and Beet, London; the translations were not destitute of merit, but are now rather out of date.
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In the same volume there was another parody, dealing with a similar topic, entitled—
“The Beggar’s Opera,” written by Mr. John Gay, was first produced at the theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, in 1728, and was so successful that it made “Gay rich and Rich (the lessee) gay.” This encouraged Gay to write a sequel to it, entitled “Polly,” which was produced in 1729, but met with far less approbation.
An anonymous play was produced in 1773, called “The Bow Street Opera,” on the plan of “The Beggar’s Opera,” in which the most celebrated songs were parodied.
John Gay was the author of the well-known song Black-eyed Susan, “All in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,” of which an excellent Latin translation will be found in the Poetical Works of Vincent Bourne.
1731-1802.
The fame of this once popular poet has been so utterly eclipsed by the philosophical and scientific writings of his grandson, that there is some danger that the author of “The Loves of the Plants” and “The Botanic Garden” may soon be quite forgotten. Fifty years ago the Death of Eliza at the Battle of Minden, taken from “The Loves of the Plants” was a favourite recitation, and was included in every book of Elegant Extracts.
This detached passage is quoted below, together with a modern parody upon it:—
But one of the most humorous parodies in the language, which was also founded upon Darwin’s poem, appeared in The Anti-Jacobin, it was entitled
* * * * *
This parody has two drawbacks, in the first place it is 200 much too long to be inserted here in full, in the second place, much of its humour depends on an acquaintance with the original poem, which comparatively few modern readers have. It will be found complete in The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin.
There were several other parodies of Darwin’s Loves of the Plants, such as The Loves of the Colours, and The Loves of the Lowlier Plants, both of which were published about 1824.
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In the second volume of this collection (p. 236) will be found several parodies of Matthew Arnold’s Sonnet to George Cruikshank, and The Forsaken Merman, which had been printed some years before. Yet a writer in the Saturday Review, in a notice of Arnold’s poems, made the following confession of his ignorance:—
“Tennyson, Browning, Swinburne, and most of our lesser poets besides, have been parodied again and again; we do not remember to have seen a single parody of Mr. Arnold.… There is a subtlety about the structure of his verse and the harmony of his lines which defies imitation.”
The Superfine Review makes such claims to omniscience that it is refreshing to find a writer on its staff not only stating his belief that Arnold had not been parodied, but that his poetry defied parody, and this soon after the reading world had been delighted with the following successful burlesque, in Mr. W. H. Mallock’s The New Republic, published in London by Messrs. Chatto & Windus:—
This parody of Matthew Arnold appeared in The World some years ago, so that the Saturday Reviewer before alluded to must either have been Rip Van Winkle, or very fresh from school.
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Guido and Lita.
For the son of a Duke, and the husband of a Princess, to write and to publish a poem was a pretty piece of condescension, which was not properly appreciated. But, alas! we live in a busy age, and two thousand lines of verse have a deterring effect on the average modern mind. To overcome the difficulty, Funny Folks condensed the Marquis of Lorne’s dismal poem Guido and Lita into half a dozen stanzas, faithfully preserving the pith of the original.
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NUTSHELL NOVELS.
The four following examples originally appeared in Truth, February, 3, 1887, together with many others of a less amusing character:—
A COUNTRY QUARTER SESSION.
For reasons which can be easily understood by those interested in public companies it has suited the Editor of The Financial News to cry down the ventures in which Mr. John Thomas North is interested. It is easy enough to sneer at him as the “Nitrate King,” and to laugh at his Volunteer Colonelcy, but we do not hear that the Editor of The Financial News is either so successful in business, or so hospitable in private life, as “Colonel North of the Horse Marines.”
The following are extracts from an imitation of A. C. Swinburne which appeared in The Century Magazine, February, 1883. As to any meaning to be attached to the lines each reader is perfectly at liberty to make what sense out of them he can.
MR. SWINBURNE’S PROSE.
As a critic and a scholar Mr. Swinburne ranks among the first of the day, yet his style has its defects, as was clearly pointed out by a correspondent of the Pall Mall Gazette in November 1886.
If one of Mr. Swinburne’s long and involved sentences is printed side by side with one selected from Mrs. Gamp’s repertoire, the comparison is not altogether to the advantage of the poet:
Mr. Swinburne.
We may even, and not unreasonably, suspect and fear that it must be through some defect or default in ourselves if we 206 cannot feel, as they do, the force or charm of that which touches others, and these our betters as often as our equals, so nearly; if we cannot, for example—as I may regretfully confess that I never could—feel adequately, or in full, the bitter sweetness that so many thousands, and most notably among them all a better man by far and a far worthier judge than I, have tasted in these pages of Dickens which hold the story of Little Nell, a story in which all the elaborate accumulation of pathetic incident and interest, so tenderly and studiously built up, has never, to speak truth, given me one passing thrill—in the exquisitely fit and faithful phrase of a great living poet, “one sweet, possessive pang” of the tender delight and pity requickened well nigh to tears at every fresh perusal or chance recollection of that one simple passage in “Bleak House” which describes the baby household tended by the little sister, who leaves her lesser charges locked up while she goes charing; a page which I can imagine that many a man unused to the melting mood would not undertake to read out aloud without a break.—Note on Charlotte Brontë, pp. 64-65.
Now for Mrs. Gamp.
To think as I should see beneath this blessed ouse which well I know it Miss Pecksniff my sweet young lady to be a ouse as there is not a many like—and worse luck, and wishin’ it were not so, which then this tearful walley would be changed into a flowerin’ guardian Mrs. Chuffy; to think as I should see identically comin’ Mrs. Pinch—I take the liberty though almost unbeknown—and so assure you of it Sir, the smilinest and sweetest face as ever Mrs. Chuzzlewit, I see exceptin’ your own, my dear good lady, and your good lady’s too Sir Mrs. Moddle, if I may make so bold as speak so plain of what is plain enough to them as need’nt look through millstones Mrs. Todgers to find out what is wrote upon the wall behind: which no offence is meant ladies and gentlemen none being took I hope: to think as I should see that smilinest and sweetest face which me and another friend of mine took notice of among the packages down London Bridge in this promiscuous place is a surprise indeed!
Several humorous parodies written by the late Mr. Mortimer Collins have already appeared in this collection, but his lines to Chloe, with her supposed burlesque reply to them, deserve to be quoted:—
——:o:——
207 The Comic History of England.
The following song was written by Mr. Collins in the days when George the Third was King. It was published, with music, by T. Broome, 15 Holborn Bars, London.
In the following pages a selection, as nearly representative as it can be made, will be given from the parodies of the works of our greatest prose writers. Although the axiom le style c’est l’homme does not apply to prose with quite the same force as to poetry, yet there are many amusing prose burlesques, the originals of which will at once be recognised.
Unfortunately most prose parodies are very long, in dealing with these merely brief extracts can be given, and in some cases it will only be necessary to indicate the names of the works in which they occur.
A Prefatory Paper.
By the shade of Mr. Joseph Addison.
Lest my readers, and more especially the fair part of them, be startled to find themselves thus accosted from another world, I take the freedom in the first place, to assure them that I am a peaceable and altogether inoffensive ghost. In the many private transactions whereat I have been present unseen, I have ever observed a strict discretion.
The secrets of the rouge pot are as safe with me as with my lady’s own woman: and when I have found a lover in the closet of a dame of quality, I have taken no more notice, than her husband himself would have done of a like accident. Our Queen, Proserpine, being, as everybody knows, obliged entirely to the poets for her throne and title, and taking likewise, in her capacity of moon, no little share in their inspiration, hath ever distinguished the whole brotherhood of us with her singular grace: and from time to time, by her intercession with her grim spouse, one or other of us hath the liberty of paying a visit to the upper sphere.
All the condition set upon us is only this; that on our return, we shall make such corrections in our most popular works, as modern men and things may appear to need.
For the sake of mutual help in these our reforms, a few of us have united of late into a Society, of which I have been appointed (together with Dr. Samuel Johnson) to be the joint secretary, or Recorder. And it may be convenient, if, by way of introduction to the pieces now revised and put forth, I prefix a short catalogue of their authors, persons who, though born in different ages, do nevertheless marvellously harmonise and agree, insomuch, that a sincerer friendship is hardly to be met with at Court, or even among beauties themselves.
(Here follow descriptions of the principal authors whose works are imitated in “Posthumous Parodies.”)
However, it were almost too much to expect in either of us the perfection of later judges, who have carried the art of criticism to such a pitch of excellence, as that no mixture whatsoever of commendation is any longer let in, to weaken its spirit and effect.
For my own part, I am wonderfully pleased with this improvement; for it helps the main end of criticism, to wit, to make the public laugh.
And what author can be so blind to his own real interests, as not to discern, how much more truly those are his friends who point out his errors, than who puff up his vanity?
I know not how it hath happened, that in an assembly so 208 notable for ingenious persons as ours is, there is yet no mixture of the fairer sort. Their absence is always a subject of regret with me, the most unworthy of their admirers: and it is so now in a more especial manner, forasmuch as I foresee that many small wags will take occasion to draw therefrom a conclusion not a little disparaging to the sex’s wit, and so make themselves mighty merry, as little people are ever willing, at their better’s expence. C.
From Posthumous Parodies. London. J. Miller. 1814.
——:o:——
Dr. Johnson’s Ghost.
On the re-opening of Drury Lane Theatre.
That which was organised by the moral ability of one has been executed by the physical efforts of many, and Drury Lane Theatre is now complete. Of that part behind the curtain, which has not yet been destined to glow beneath the brush of the varnisher, or vibrate to the hammer of the carpenter, little is thought by the public, and little need be said by the committee. Truth, however, is not lo be sacrificed for the accommodation of either; and he who should pronounce that our edifice has received its final embellishment would be disseminating falsehood without incurring favour, and risking the disgrace of detection without participating the advantage of success.
Professions lavishly effused and parsimoniously verified are alike inconsistent with the precepts of innate rectitude and the practice of external policy: let it not then be conjectured, that because we are unassuming, we are imbecile; that forbearance is any indication of despondency, or humility of demerit. He that is the most assured of success will make the fewest appeals to favour, and where nothing is claimed that is undue, nothing that is due will be withheld. A swelling opening is too often succeeded by an insignificant conclusion. Parturient mountains have ere now produced muscipular abortions; and the auditor who compares incipient grandeur with final vulgarity is reminded of the pious hawkers of Constantinople, who solemnly perambulate her streets, exclaiming, “In the name of the Prophet—figs!”
Of many who think themselves wise, and of some who are thought wise by others, the exertions are directed to the revival of mouldering and obscure dramas; to endeavours to exalt that which is now rare only because it was always worthless, and whose deterioration, while it condemned it to living obscurity, by a strange obliquity of moral perception, constitutes its title to posthumous renown. To embody the flying colours of folly, to arrest evanescence, to give to bubbles the globular consistency as well as form, to exhibit on the stage the piebald denizen of the stable, and the half-reasoning parent of combs, to display the brisk locomotion of Columbine, or the tortuous attitudinising of Punch;—these are the occupations of others, whose ambition, limited to the applause of unintellectual fatuity, is too innocuous for the application of satire, and too humble for the incitement of jealousy.
Our refectory will be found to contain every species of fruit, from the cooling nectarine and luscious peach to the puny pippin and the noxious nut. There Indolence may repose, and Inebriety revel; and the spruce apprentice, rushing in at second account, may there chatter with impunity; debarred, by a barrier of brick and mortar, from marring that scenic interest in others, which nature and education have disqualified him from comprehending himself.
Permanent stage-doors we have none. That which is permanent cannot be removed, for, if removed, it soon ceases to be permanent. What stationary absurdity can vie with that ligneous barricado, which, decorated with frappant and tintinnabulant appendages, now serves as the entrance of the lowly cottage, and now as the exit of a lady’s bed-chamber; at one time, insinuating plastic Harlequin into a butcher’s shop, and, at another, yawning, as a floodgate, to precipitate the Cyprians of St. Giles’s into the embraces of Macheath. To elude this glaring absurdity, to give to each respective mansion the door which the carpenter would doubtless have given, we vary our portal with the varying scene, passing from deal to mahogany, and from mahogany to oak, as the opposite claims of cottage, palace, or castle, may appear to require.
Amid the general hum of gratulation which flatters us in front, it is fit that some regard should be paid to the murmurs of despondence that assail us in the rear. They, as I have elsewhere expressed it, “who live to please,” should not have their own pleasures entirely overlooked. The children of Thespis are general in their censures of the architect, in having placed the locality of exit at such a distance from the oily irradiators which now dazzle the eyes of him who addresses you, I am, cries the Queen of Terrors, robbed of my fair proportions. When the king-killing Thane hints to the breathless auditory the murders he means to perpetrate in the castle of Macduff, “ere his purpose cool,” so vast is the interval he has to travel before he can escape from the stage, that his purpose has even time to freeze. Your condition, cries the Muse of Smiles, is hard, but it is cygnet’s down in comparison with mine. The peerless peer of capers and congees[49] has laid it down as a rule, that the best good thing uttered by the morning visitor should conduct him rapidly to the doorway, last impressions vying in durability with first. But when, on this boarded elongation, it falls to my lot to say a good thing, to ejaculate “keep moving,” or to chant “hic hoc horum genitivo,” many are the moments that must elapse ere I can hide myself from public vision in the recesses of O. P. or P. S.
To objections like these, captiously urged and querulously maintained, it is time that equity should conclusively reply. Deviation from scenic propriety has only to vituperate itself for the consequences it generates. Let the actor consider the line of exit as that line beyond which he should not soar in quest of spurious applause: let him reflect, that in proportion as he advances to the lamps, he recedes from nature; that the truncheon of Hotspur acquires no additional charm from encountering the cheek of beauty in the stage-box, and that the bravura of Madame may produce effect, although the throat of her who warbles it should not overhang the orchestra. The Jove of the modern critical Olympus, Lord Mayor of the theatric sky[50] has, ex cathedrâ, asserted, that a natural actor looks upon the audience part of the theatre as the third side of the chamber he inhabits. Surely, of the third wall thus fancifully erected, our actors should, by ridicule or reason, be withheld from knocking their heads against the stucco.
Time forcibly reminds me, that all things which have a limit must be brought to a conclusion. Let me, ere that conclusion arrives, recall to your recollection that the pillars which rise on either side of me, blooming in virid antiquity, 209 like two massy evergreens, had yet slumbered in their native quarry, but for the ardent exertions of the individual who called them into life: to his never-slumbering talents you are indebted for whatever pleasure this haunt of the Muses is calculated to afford. If, in defiance of chaotic malevolence, the destroyer of the temple of Diana yet survives in the name of Erostratus, surely we may confidently predict that the rebuilder of the temple of Apollo will stand recorded to distant posterity in that of—Samuel Whitbread.
From The Rejected Addresses, by James and Horace Smith. London, 1812.
There is a Prefatory Paper, in the style of Dr. Johnson, in “Posthumous Parodies,” published by John Miller, London, 1814, but it is greatly inferior to that contained in “Rejected Addresses.”
On Bookbinders.
(After Rasselas.)
Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of noodles, and pursue with eagerness the phantom “collection,” who believe that binder’s promises are—binding, and that an inch of margin to-day matters not on the morrow, attend to the wisdom of Bonnardot, Prince of Book-Restorers. “The greatest merit of a rare book is indisputably a margin uncut, or at least, little and regularly cut in every way.” No hesitating words these; no room for doubt here. An uncut margin is the greatest merit a rare book can possess, and it is a merit which has a well ascertained commercial value. An eighth of an inch more or less of margin often makes a difference in value of hundreds of dollars. Now let the botcher-binder cut and slash as you will.
Anonymous.
Anonymous Journalism.
(From an unpublished Essay by Dr. Johnson.)
He that asserts the annexation of a correct cognomen to each production to be imperative upon every author, either strays from veracity for the sake of disseminating falsehood, or circulates error through the possession of congenital imbecility. Let it not be surmised that this declaration is expressed through sensitive timidity or supported by vacuous generalizations, for a further perusal will speedily discover a clinching dialectic. The individual that appends his hereditary appellation to a composition of transcendant ability, does but seek to enervate his intellect by encomiastic excess, and whilst he panders to his ambition, exaggerates his energies. Such a course indeed, is too ephemeral for the attainment by an author of immortality, because too invidious for the approbation of his colleagues. Of the many who consider their cerebral progeny worthy of attentive investigation, but few have the right to predicate correctness of their hopeful conviction; and he that inscribes his signature on a piece of somniferous fatuity, involves his relatives in unmerited obloquy, whilst he exposes himself to dedecorating derision. Amid the multitude of periodical productions it is but reasonable that some should be devoted to the analysis of individual idiosyncracies, and the maxims previously unfolded may to these be pertinently applied.
An anonymous panegyric by an unknown friend is more acceptable than the cringing adulation of a patent parasite, whilst unsigned reproofs are more meritorious than personal vituperations.
He that panders to an inflamed irascibility by affording it an opportunity of illicit flagellation, does but incite an infuriated man to rebel against the legal institutions of his country.
To the contemptible criticisms of those whose opinions are in contrariety with the superscribed, we merely reply, that, whilst the procrastination of judgment is essential to the perfectibility of Truth, their future ratiocinations will still be treated with dignified derision by their magnanimous admonishers.
From The Shotover Papers, Oxford, 1874.
“Lexiphanes, a Dialogue, imitated from Lucian, and suited to the present times,” (1767), was a malicious piece of drollery directed against Dr. Johnson; this has been attributed to Sir John Hawkins, the real author, however, was Archibald Campbell, the Purser of a Man-of-War.
A continuation of Rasselas, entitled Dinarbas, was published in 1793, it had little merit.
Born 1713. Died March, 18, 1768.
A Sentimental Journey.
By a Sterne Shade.
CHAPTER I.
“I’ll be hanged if I do!”
I was standing at the verge of the pavement at the bottom of Ludgate-hill, with one foot on the kerb and the other in the kennel.
’Tis an attitude of irresolution and uncertainty, and throws a man off his level. And when a man is thrown off his level there’s no telling what may be the end of it. I took my foot out of the kennel, and as I set it down beside its companion on the granite I repeated my exclamation—
“I’ll be hanged if I do!”
Now, ’tis an undertaking no man in the possession of his senses would make if he was not quite sure of avoiding the penalty. There are many inconveniences connected with being hanged, which would incline us to hesitate. A man of sentiment and refinement would shrink from it. The idea of engrossing the attention of so many people, from the Sheriff and the Ordinary down to the most ragged beggar in the crowd, is a shock to delicacy.
Besides, hanging entails early rising, and early rising is bad. Oh! great Sun! for what dost thou quit thy roseate couch at so unearthly an hour, but to air the world for us poor mortals?
Whip me the man who would rise before eleven, if he could help it. If he couldn’t—well, ’tis different, and there’s an end on’t.
But early rising is a thing I never cared for or practised; and indeed I can think of no worse way of beginning a day than getting up at eight to be hanged.
And this brings me back to my first proposition. “I’ll be hanged if I do!” said I.
As I uttered the words I brought down my cane with a smart rap on the stones—for if the intention and the deed 210 be the same thing, as learned legists tell us, it was on the stones that I brought it down. But between the deed and the intention a plaguy fellow must needs thrust the foot on which he wore his largest and tenderest corn.
Mine is a sensitive heart, and of a truth tenderness is a failing that is always leading me into difficulties.
I could not support the sight of his anguish; and as soon as he found the use of his voice—which was pretty soon—I thought it best to move away.
CHAPTER II.
I had not gone many steps ere I fell in with a donkey. Now an ass is an animal I can never pass without giving him the time of day. There is a gentle patience with which he listens to my discourses that wins my heart in spite of myself.
He was harnessed to a sort of barrow, laden with mackerel, and he was standing in Farringdon-street to allow the stream of traffic to pass up Ludgate-hill.
“’Tis ever so, Honesty!” said I; “thou and I must e’en wait to let our betters go by. See how yon ‘Bow and Stratford’ rolls by—mark that Pickford’s van—and thou’rt obliged to wait with thy fish, though they be perishable goods at best.”
As I said this I had taken up one of the mackerel, and was moralizing over it.
“Come, I say, jest drop that ’ere?” said a voice. I looked up. It was Jack’s master. “And this is thy tyrant, then!” I thought to myself. “Thine must be a hard lot, with one so suspicious of his kind—so devoid of sentiment.” But I said nothing, and replaced the fish.
Just at this moment the tide of traffic was broken for an instant, and the ass’s master hastened to take advantage of it. “Kim up!” said he to Jack; and before the poor animal could obey him, he seized him by the head and dragged him along, dealing him at the same time a score of heavy blows with a thick stick that he carried in his right hand.
I could have found it in my heart to have given the rascal a sound drubbing for his pains. But I refrained. I protest I am too soft-hearted. I feared I might by chance hurt him, or he me.
“Farewell, Honesty!” said I, as Jack shambled off with his load. And then I knew not what tender emotion stirred me, but I felt a tear trickling down my cheek. “Farewell, Honesty!” said I again, as I put my hand into my pocket for my kerchief.
It was gone!——
CHAPTER III.
I have come to the conclusion that ’tis not the best way to get through a story to begin at the end.
’Tis an unprofitable way at best, and tends to lead one into digressions.
Now, digressions will be the ruin of me in this world and the next. I shall be so beset with digressions I shall never reach my destination.
’Tis a very butterfly-like temptation. Here was I set down to write you out my journey, and I’ve not got three steps from the bottom of Ludgate-hill.
And this because of my fatal failing for digression. I had proposed to write a chapter on Pickford’s vans, and another on Public Executions; but here’s the end of my letter, and I am still standing with one foot on the kerbstone and the other in the kennel.
* * * * *
As I was writing that last sentence, I felt I could bear it no longer. It had rung in my ears all day. I had looked out of windows, and out of doors, and upstairs, and downstairs, but I could not discover whence it came.
“I can’t get on! I can’t get on!”
’Twas a little plaintive voice like a child’s.
“I can’t get on!” This time I traced it to its source. ’Twas nothing but a little squirrel in a revolving cage. As he ran, so his prison turned, and he still kept crying, “I can’t get on!”
Oh! great principle of Liberty! was I wrong to make the instant determination to set that poor little captive free? My heart assures me I was not. I fumbled at the wire-fastening. It resisted my efforts; but the squirrel bit my fingers all the same.
* * * * *
Another digression. But it shall be the last. I have sworn it, and so there’s an end of the matter. And ’tis no much matter either, for after all ’tis no more than this:—
As I stood on the pavement at the bottom of Ludgate-hill, with one foot on the kerb and the other in the kennel, I suddenly remembered that it was Lord Mayors Day.
“Shall I go and see the show?” said I to myself. And myself answered—
“I’ll be hanged if I do!” And I didn’t.
Anonymous.
AFFECTING APPEAL.
Linton, a musician belonging to the orchestra of Covent Garden Theatre, was murdered by street robbers, who were afterwards discovered and executed. A play was given for the benefit of his widow and children; and the day preceding the performance the following appeared in one of the public prints.
“Theatre Royal, Covent Garden.
“For the Benefit of Mrs. Linton, &c.”
“The Widow,” said Charity, whispering me in the ear. “must have your mite; wait upon her with a guinea, and purchase a box-ticket.”
“You may have one for five shillings,” observed Avarice, pulling me by the elbow.
My hand was in my pocket, and the guinea, which was between my finger and thumb, slipped out.
“Yes,” said I, “she shall have my five shillings,”
“Good heaven!” exclaimed Justice, “what are you about! Five shillings? If you pay but five shillings for going into the Theatre, then you get value received for your money.”
“And I shall owe him no thanks,” added Charity, laying her hand upon my heart, and leading me on the way to the Widow’s house.
Taking the knocker in my left hand, my whole frame trembled. Looking round, I saw Avarice turn the corner of the street, and I found all the money in my pocket grasped in my hand.
“Is your mother at home, my dear?” said I, to a child who conducted me into a parlour.
“Yes,” answered the infant; “but my father has not been at home for a great while; that is his harpsichord, and that is his violin.—He used to play on them for me.”
“Shall I play you a tune, my boy?” said I.
“No, sir,” answered the boy, “My mother will not let them be touched; for since my father went abroad, music makes her cry, and then we all cry.”
I looked on the violin—it was unstrung. I touched the harpsichord—it was out of tune. Had the lyre of Orpheus 211 sounded in my ear, it could not have insinuated to my heart thrills of sensibility equal to what I felt. It was the spirit in unison with the flesh.
“I hear my mother on the stairs,” said the boy.
I shook him by the hand—“Give her this, my lad,” said I, and left the house.—It rained—I called a coach—drove to a coffee-house, but not having a farthing in my pocket, borrowed a shilling at the bar.
The Citizen.
I took a fat citizen, and having first shut him up in his little sitting-room, I proceeded to take his picture. I beheld his body gorged with long gratification and confinement to the house, and I felt what kind of sickness of the stomach it is that arises from having eaten too much. On looking nearer, I beheld him bloated and feverish. In sixty years the country breeze had not once fanned his blood, and he had seen the sun and moon but indistinctly in all that time. He was seated, or rather buried in a large arm-chair, which stood in front of the fire-place, and which might have served either for a chair or a bed. A bundle of promissory notes lay on the table, scrawled all over, the fruits of the dark and dismal days and nights he had spent there. He had one of these small slips of paper in his hand, and with a pen he was etching his own signature and the day of the month, to add it to the heap. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up an eye, swimming in fat, towards the door, bent his head forward earnestly to listen, and then went on with his work of delight.
I heard the rubbing of his hands when he had with difficulty turned his body round to place the note on the bundle—he gave a sigh of joy. I saw the ecstasy that entered into his soul—I burst into a laugh—I could not contain myself at the picture which my fancy had drawn.
Togatus.
From The Gownsman, Cambridge, 1830.
Fragments in the Manner of Sterne, by Isaac Brandon. Published in 1797, with fine plates, by Kirk, contained the following chapters:—Address to the Shade of Yorick—War—Prosperity—and Humanity—A Shandean Minister—Justice—Necessity—Anna and an “Apostrophe to the Genius of Yorick Redivivus.”
A second edition was published in 1798, with some additional matter.
The Rambles of Mr. Frankly, published by his Sister, 1772, was written in imitation of Sterne’s Sentimental Journey.
A Sentimental Journey (intended as a sequel to Mr. Sterne’s) through Italy, Switzerland, and France. By Mr. Shandy. 2 vols. 1793.
Yorick’s Sentimental Journey, continued.
The Sentimental Journey, a continuation by Eugenius.
Maria, or a Shandean journey of a young Lady through Flanders and France, in 1822, by my Uncle Oddy. 1823.
These are the titles of a few only of the principal imitations of Sterne, in which his maudlin sentiment is easily burlesqued, but in which little of his wit can be found.
Born Dec. 4, 1795. Died Feb. 5, 1881.
A Latter-day Fragment, 1851.
(Carlyle on Bloomerism.)
“A mad world this, my friends, a World in its lunes, petty and other; in lunes other than petty now for sometime; in petty lunes, pettilettes or pantalettes, about these six weeks, ever since when this rampant androgynous Bloomerism first came over from Yankee land. A sort of shemale dress you call Bloomerism; a fashion of Sister Jonathan’s.
Trowsers tight at ankles, and for most part frilled; tunic descending with some degree of brevity, perhaps to knees, ascending to throat and open at chemisette front, or buttoned there; collar down-turned over neckerchief; and crowning all, broad brimmed hat; said garments generally feathered, trimmed, ribboned, variegated, according to the fancies and the vanities: these, chiefly, are the outward differences between Bloomer dress and customary feminine Old Clothes. Not much unlike nursery-uniforms, you think this description of costume, but rather considerably like it, I compute. Invisible are the merits of the Bloomer dress, such as it has. A praiseworthy point in Bloomerism the emancipation of the ribs; an exceeding good riddance, the deliverance from corset, trammelling genteel thorax with springs of steel and whalebone, screwing in waist to Death’s hour glass contraction, and squeezing lungs, liver, and midriff into unutterable cram. Commendable, too, the renouncement of sous-jupe bouffante, or ineffable wadding, invented, I suppose, by some Hottentot to improve female contour after the type of Venus, his fatherland’s, and not Cythera’s. Wholesome, moreover, and convenient, the abbreviation of trains, serving in customary female old clothes the purpose of besom, and no other: real improvements, doubtless, these abandonments of ruinous shams, ridiculous unveracities, and idolatries of indescribable mud-Pythons.… Disputes about surplices in pulpit, and also elsewhere, give place to controversies in theatres and lecture-halls concerning petty lunes and frilled trowsers; paraphernalia, however, not less important than canonicals, as I judge for one.… But here are we, my friends in this mad world, amid the hallooings and bawlings, and guffaws, and imbecile simperings, and titterings, blinded by the November smoke fog of coxcombries and vanities, stunted by the perpetual hallelujahs of flunkeys, beset by maniacs and simpletons in the great lunes and the petty lunes; here, I say, do we, with Bloomerism beneath us bubbling uppermost, stand, hopelessly upturning our eyes for the daylight of heaven, upon the brink of a vexed unfathomable gulf of apehood and asshood simmering for ever.”
Anonymous.
The Tichborne Trial.
By Thomas Carr Lisle.
The Tichborne Trial is ended! Yea, my brother and other things are ended of which that is but a type, Looming Portentous; verily, a sort of Fire-balloon of paper, or of papers rather, Standard, Telegraph, and what not.
Men say “The truth is out at last.” The Truth out! my poor brothers-nay, was the Truth ever in. Surely there was no Truth, rather other than that.
And yet doth it not mean something, think you, this Tichborne 212 Trial, its Solicitor-Generals, Tichborne bonds, and legal Inanities? Says it not “Is there Truth in the land, O Israel?” “What is Truth?” said jesting Pilate, or rather where is it? Cry the question into the bottomless Inane of this our world, and what answer? Nothing but an inarticulate response of Tichborne bonds, Solicitor-Generals, and such.
Yea, they mean something, these Solicitor-Generals and Tichborne bonds:—a Partridge-shooting, Salmon-preserving, Dilettante Aristocracy have said so much, have said so with lifting of hands and Reverence—we fear somewhat of the Rotatory Calabash kind. They mean this much, which is perhaps somewhat other than Double-barrelled Dilettantisms would have them mean. They mean this much. This England of ours believes no longer in Truth, believes rather in a kind of Sham Truth, a stucco business, much to be lamented; at least, by all such as hold their soul for a purpose other than to save salt, to keep them from Rottenness, Stinking, and utter Unsavouryness. “They say unto us ‘make brick,’ and no straw is given unto thy servants.” So might cry our men of law, lacking Truth to work upon; but for straw they cry not, thinking to make brick without straw; and they make no brick, rather Falsity, Puffery, and Unnature.
O, great Roger! these matters of thine call with a tolerably audible voice of Proclamation, and a universal “oyez,” and we English Microcosms may know that it was verily meant in earnest that same Phenomenon, and had its reasons for appearing there—Just and Unjust cause—Dikaios and Adikos Logos—trying to settle or get themselves settled, incessantly protesting against each being the other, and with it may be another kind of Logos from the great Universe with silent continual Beckonings trying to revenge itself, revancher itself, make itself good again.
For does not the Universe hold an inarticulate Sympathy with Justice, yearning that meum be mine tuum thine. That meum be mine! There is surely something Respectable in that.
And what is the outcome, ask Practical men, of all this? What is the import of the matter to us who are not Rogers? Verily, my friends, this—that England is in a state of Chronic Atropos, hath made her a covering of Asses-ears, Midas-leavings, Sermons, parchment and what not, hoping to sleep through it in such caloric apparel in this Glass house of hers, knowing that glass is no conductor—to Heaven’s lightning at least.
The Outcome of ninety-one days’ sittings, Red-tape Philosophies, Club-room jaw-clackings, and Infernal Babel of Telegraphs and Morning Stars is little other than—for Rogers Newgate and the Blackness of Darkness, for those who are not Rogers, discovery of Chronic Atropos in a Rampant state, wholly Insuppressible, Irrepressible, and Mad.
After all, is not Insanity just what is the matter with this English Bull just now? Is there Sanity at all among us butchers, bakers and candlestick-makers, red tape dummies, black crape ludicrousnesses, Puseyisms, Benthamee Radicalisms, Church and Statisms, Dilettantisms, Mammonisms, double-barelled Aristocracies, and inane Chimæras generally? Literature is, perhaps, the Sanest thing we have just at present, at least tolerabler, impressibler, beneficenter than mere Chaos, articulate or inarticulate. Writers, at least, have a Meaning, must have a Meaning; state some Fact or Facts, or what they take for Fact or Facts, intelligibly, so that men may say “Thus thinks a Man, whether he think wrong or right.”
And the Tichborne Trial was mad, utterly mad, with no Truth, hardly even Untruth in it, but Confusion and Roaring as of the Pit and Abyss of stupidity.
Did the Insanity thereof dawn upon many, think you? One might have hoped so, have hoped that such had been the Outcome which Practical Men require. One might have hoped that the sense of the World, Judicial, Social, and Otherwise, would have got itself resuscitated from Asphyxia, or proved for ever irresuscitable. But, instead thereof, we have Times Subscription-list actually now present, and Impending Ominous Perjury-trials, fresh Chaotic Incongruities, diabolic Floppings and Caterwaulings hitherto thought moribund, scattering incalculable Contagion.
Thus clearly doth this Roger matter preach its lesson to mankind, teaching and preaching clearly as these Words writ down here the Unveracity of Demiurgurships, of Solicitor-Generals, and such Parchment Kings.
But, my friends, such things will not last, at least not longer than Doomsday in the afternoon. It is very notable, Demiurgurship of Judges, that loud Inane Actuality with justice in its pocket, which rolls along there with trumpeters blaring round it, and all the world escorting it as mute or vocal Flunkey—go thy way. Escort it not thou, my brother. Say unto it rather, “Loud blaring Nonentity, no force of wigs, spectacles, and trumpets can make thee an Entity. Thou art a Nonentity and deceptive Simulacrum.” Storm-clothed Caverns Cheese and Earwigs! French and Phrygians, Zero. Ba! Moo! Hee Haw! Hee Haw.
From The Light Green, Cambridge, 1872.
The Editor of The World offered two prizes for compositions (in the style of Thomas Carlyle) describing Mr. Gladstone’s portrait by Millais, and on August 6, 1879, it published the two following parodies:—
First Prize.
Turn we, therefore, from this jaunting, jostling, pestering Piccadilly into the Academy—whether really Royal this year I know not, or whether it be no more than the grandest Graphic we have had this many months, the most illustrious Illustrated of the year. Pause not to catch glamorous glancing glimpses of the besodden (with rain only, think you?) Season’s Beauties—drawn verily, each of them, by most Special Correspondents—but step sternly on, and stop face to face with this William—the People’s William, as the mob hath not dubiously dubbed him. Is it the Portrait merely or the Man himself that ye have come out for to see? Be you friend or foe to him, is there not in this counterfeit presentment of him—this wild, much-suffering, much-inflicting (not on trees only) man—something which almost attaches you? Is it not the attitude and face of a man who hath said to Cant, ‘Begone!’ to Dilettantism, ‘Here canst thou not be!’ and to Truth, ‘Be thou in place of all—ay, of ‘place’ itself to me!’—a man who hath manfully defied the ‘Time-Prince’ or Devil to his face, by all weapons, in all places, at all times? See you not, in the earnestly, sternly eagle-eyed look of him the ground of the enthusiasm,—The Schwärmerei,—for him? Contrast him not odiously, but in sober, sensible silence, with the dazzling Dizzy, the bright Beaconsfield. Which of them, both great, is really greatest? Which the grandest Thing and thoughtfullest we have done lately? Which will we send to the next Exhibition, Paris or otherwise? Which of them will we show for our Honour, with Peace or without it, amongst foreign nations, and for our Peace with Honour surely amongst ourselves? Which? Consider now, if they asked us, “Choose ye not this time, like ill-starred princess 213 ’twixt axe and crown,’ but twixt the man who sways the axe, and him who rejects (rightly doubtless) the crown; ’twixt the lopper of laurels, and the creator of crowns, Imperial and other, that fade.” Consider now, if they asked us, “Will you give up your William or your Benjamin,—not little truly, and just now your Ruler—O ye lost Tribes of Israel? Never have had any William, or never have had any Benjamin?” Consider now both of them, all of you, as Men of State, of Letters, ay, of Post-cards also if you will! Really it were a grave question. Official persons would doubtless answer in official language; but we, for our part, should not we also be forced to answer, ‘Benjamin or no Benjamin, we cannot do without William’? He is verily ours,—not with us here and there only, in Oriental mystery amongst us; but ours always,—Fortnightly, our own Contemporary (or a large part of it), our best Nineteenth Century Man.
Conservative.
Second Prize.
Here, O belated wayfarer, in thy weary march in search of the Beautiful, after painful journeying through a Realm of æsthetic Unrealities, pause! Thou art verily at last in presence of a Man. No mere clothes-bundle of humanity this, presented before thee, smirking, pomatumed, garnered from the Dustbin of the Ages—marvelling by what blundering Miracle of the Destinies he finds himself there. Wandering in this bewildering waste of ruined canvas, that by wise guidance might have evolved itself into practical Breeches for the Breechless in this howling naked world—this many-tinted appalling array of painted, but, alas, soulless Flesh—of bewigged Pomposity, of empty Dead-Sea faces with no Souls behind them, children of the Inane begotten in Vanity and brought forth in Vexation of Spirit, acres of æsthetic Upholstery, Sugar-loaf Confectionary, perpetuated Blockheadism, respectable Giggery, and other like phenomena,—all jumbled together, gibbeted in veneer and gold;—here, at last, I say, amid this motley throng, come we on a glimpse of the Ideal, a Giant among pigmies, a Man surrounded by Tailor-puppets, a human Soul gazing out from an earnest human face intent upon things other than mere cultivation of the Digestive faculty. Yea, look upon him! An earnest, passionate, restless, lean, but withal noble face. An eager eye, but pathetic in its eagerness, looking out compassionately on this sad oppressed world. Stern compressed lips, an undaunted brow, with a Stormy Force hidden under the calm exterior. Straight he looks into the Shams and Chicanery of our insincere Charlatan age,—the keen lightnings of his eye, and fierce thunderbolts of his tongue, cleaving, piercing, exploding the Windbags and inflated Bladders that in our noodle, jabbering, screech-owl Parliament try to pass themselves as Verities and Realities. O my brothers, look on this, a fragment of the Real flung by some miracle amid the Unreal, of the Invisible made Visible, embodying for us, and for those who come after us, a picture, a semblance, an apparition, a Verisimilitude of Greatness that will survive the cacklings and hissings and venom-squirting propensities of a purblind Age!
TEUFELSDRÖCKH JUNIOR.
On March 5th, 1882, The Weekly Dispatch published the result of a Prize competition for parodies on Carlyle’s style. Four imitations were printed, but the prize was awarded to the following:
On the Parliamentary “Closure.”
Business in these latter days the national palaver has mostly ceased to do; talk in every variety, perorations, objurations clamorously vehement have inundated the poor palaver, well-nigh swamping what of sense and work remained to it. Strange have been the sights of late, honourable members struggling all day, all night, stormful, impetuously rampant, found still by saffron Phœbus motioning, dividing, weary, and reckless of everything, wishful only to make an end. Sacred truly are the rights of minorities, sacred too are other rights, for one the right to work and to progress; but this right of the not honourable member, shameless, unreasonable, treasonable to drone, and adjourn, and divide, senselessly and hopelessly seems not sacred; not to me, nor to the Eternal Reason. For from of old was it not given to the strong to rule, and rule well, at peril of their souls; and is not strength with the many and not the few, shriek and expostulate though they may, passionate, hysterical, futile—now to be overborne by the “evident sense of the majority” arresting the inane jabberings with true Puritan earnestness and vigour, rejoiced in by the Empyreans, enemies of froth and the Pit. The sense of the majority cannot too often be “evident.”
J. W. Hale.
People of the Present.
Omitted from Carlyle’s “Reminiscences.”
BROWN, THE POET.
Went last night in wet, bad weather to Dash’s to meet Brown. A lean, long, clothes-prop of a man, with a bilious complexion-spectral, hideous, discordant, almost infernal. Much common-coloured hair streaming over narrow shoulders. Asked leave to present me with his new volume of poems, the result being that I got to talking in the Annandale accent, and communicated large masses of my views on weak verse to all within hearing. Tuneful Brown shaken as with a passing earthquake. A very questionable impression of myself left in that quarter, I imagine.
ROBINSON, THE PAINTER.
In the evening an Oscarian rout. Dauber Robinson was the only novelty, for I have never noticed him before—a man with huge bush of beard, spectacled, staring, owlish. For the rest, a podgy man with loose mouth (spout mouth), cock nose, and shallowest brow. A sandy, barren character, dissonant speaking, dogmatic, trivial, with a singular exasperation on a question of perspective. Let him go on spoiling good canvas with his pictures—save the mark!—in the name of Beelzebub, the God of Ekron, who seems to be his god: but don’t let him flatter himself that he will ever get an order from me—ach Gott!
Funny Folks, November 1884.
——:o:——
The Ghost of Carlyle at the Inventories.
His observations on the equestrian statue of
the Prince of Wales in the Entrance Hall.
Beyond doubt a horse—breed questionable—a horse nevertheless. A horse, charging like an unbottled whirlwind, kicking up behind and before; dash, plash! 214 Symptoms unmistakable. Too much other charging for the equine-imity of this full-bodied charger from the stables of Gulliver Swift’s Brobdingnag. Wo, intrepedest! carriest thou not a prince astride; he that is of Wales, yet no Welshman, no Taffy-stick; man of Three Feathers simply! He is the great chum-chum of the sociabilities, knowest thou not? not to be sneezed at like everyday clay. This clay that thou upbearest on that square back of thine is of the Pottery-Royal, good steed; hall-marked from Plantagenet to Guelph with despisable and undespisable Saxon-Norman-Dutch-German interweavings; yet a sound clay, and transparent withal, not mere bric-a-brac. All other sons of Adam bow to him; throw him, therefore, at thy peril. See, the Inanities are coming, with them the Lack-lustres, the Sham-aristocrats, the Brass-brains, the Tittle-tattlers, and the Bubble-mongers. What! still kicking! Do not these High Mightinesses affright thee? What sayest thou to the feminine new clothes-screens that come lilting in, puffy, protuberant, patchy? piquancy personified; all that. Burlesques of anatomy notwithstanding. Nunquam non paratus.
Oh, Bucephalus, I am ashamed of thee; all the fineries are here, and thou shouldst be of the inaudibles. Else, better wert thou with thy commemorative counterpart, in distant, hot-as-Hades Bombay. Dost thou not, like the Heine-immortalised palm, have internal yearnings towards the other self out there in the land of the palanquin—that other self-made gift of to the Bombayliffs by Sir Albert Sassoon, C.S.I.? Ridden by an H.R.H., K.G., G.C.S.I., and presented by a C.S.I. Kt., thou shouldst, with thy O B C T, abide by the letter of thy compact. Look around thee; the show is now going on; the asinines are upon us; “Walk up! walk up!” See how they stream through the turn-stiles; pay here, pay there, pay everywhere; halt cabs, halt carriages; crush; press. Whoogh! Hotter work this than shelling peas in the back kitchen with Gretchen. Why, the very mural panels blush for thee in all their Doulton red-hotness. Yes, they have panelled all the inventions on these walls, from Agricola to Bessemer, from Caxton to Walter, from Jost Amman to Arkwright. These panels empanel thee, kicker. Ach Gott! an’ thou dost not stop thy cursed racket, thou shalt seek the Evermore with a walking-stick betwixt thy ribs! A full score peelers (well I remember Robert o’ that ilk) stand sentry, Right over Wrong, or vice versa, in this Hall of no entrance sans the cash, and yet thou art not mollified.
See, the crowds come in by the Subway also—Subwayters they, with a vengeance, and mix and muddle. Mark, too, the seats for the Demi-semi Flirts and their victims. Followers allowed there, Bucephalus, I surmise. See, how the crowd streams down the broad steps that lead to the great South Gallery in the West. A sunny south it is, methinks, this day of autumn. Wo, wo; gently, gently; thou wilt be Hors de combat of a verity one of these days; and this entrancing Hall of Entrance will be disinvented for its entrance upon the chaos of Do-Nothingness, which will surely come with the Inevitable that lies round the corner of Time’s next street, waiting for the ding of doom. Ah, here comes another tribe of the Monetaries, with parboiled visages, and permeations of fashion—starch all over them, head to foot. Boy, bring me a mushroom!
Gaiety, October 17, 1885.
From the “World-Harmonic-Æolian-Attachment.”
A burlesque notice of “The Biglow Papers.”
Speech is silver: silence is golden. No utterance more Orphic than this. While, therefore, as highest author, we reverence him whose works continue heroically unwritten, we have also our hopeful word for those who with pen (from wing of goose loud-cackling, or seraph God-commissioned) record the thing that is revealed.… Under mask of quaintest irony, we detect here the deep, storm-tost (nigh shipwracked) soul, thunder-scarred, semi-articulate but ever climbing hopefully toward the peaceful summits of an Infinite Sorrow.… Yes, thou poor, forlorn Hosea, with Hebrew fire-flaming soul in thee, for thee also this life of ours has not been without its aspects of heavenliest pity and laughingest mirth. Conceivable enough! Through coarse Thersites cloak, we have revelation of the heart, wild glowing, world-clasping, that is in him. Bravely he grapples with the life-problem as it presents itself to him, uncombed, shaggy, careless of the “nicer proprieties,” inexpert of “elegant diction,” yet with voice audible enough to whoso hath ears up there on the gravelly side-hills, or down on the splashy, Indiarubber-like salt-marshes of native Jaalam. To this soul also the Necessity of Creating somewhat has unveiled its awful front. If not Œipuses and Electras and Alcestises, then in God’s name Birdofredum Sawins. These also shall get born into the world, and filch (if so need) a Zingali subsistence therein, these lank, omnivorous Yankees of his. He shall paint the Seen, since the Unseen will not sit to him. Yet in him also are Nibelungen-lays and Iliads, and Ulysses-wanderings, and Divine Comedies—if only once he could come at them! Therein lies much, nay all; for what truly is this which we name All, but that which we do not possess?... Glimpses also are given us of an old father Ezekiel, not without paternal pride, as is the wont of such. A brown, parchment-hided old man of the geoponic or bucolic species, gray-eyed, we fancy, queued perhaps, with much weather-cunning and plentiful September-gale memories, bidding fair in good time to become the Oldest Inhabitant. After such hasty apparition, he vanishes and is seen no more.… Of “Rev. Homer Wilbur, A.M., Pastor of the First Church in Jaalam,” we have small care to speak here. Spare touch in him of his Melesigenes namesake, save, haply, the—blindness! A tolerably caliginose, nephelegeretous elderly gentleman, with infinite faculty of sermonizing, muscularized by long practice, and excellent digestive apparatus, and, for the rest, well-meaning enough, and with small private illuminations (somewhat tallowy, it is to be feared) of his own. To him, there, “Pastor of the First Church in Jaalam,” our Hosea presents himself as a quite inexplicable Sphinx-riddle. A rich poverty of Latin and Greek,—so far is clear enough, even to eyes peering myopic through horn-lensed editorial spectacles,—but naught farther? O purblind, well-meaning, altogether fuscous Melesigenes-Wilbur, there are things in him incommunicable by stroke of birch! Did it ever enter that old bewildered head of thine that there was the Possibility of the Infinite in him? To thee, quite wingless (and even featherless) biped, has not so much even as a dream of wings ever come? “Talented young parishioner”? Among the Arts whereof thou art Magister, does that of seeing happen to be one? Unhappy Artium Magister! Somehow a Nemean lion, fulvous, torrid-eyed, dry-nursed in broad-howling sand-wildernesses of a sufficiently rare spirit—Libya (it may be supposed) has got whelped among the sheep. Already he stands wild-glaring, with feet clutching the ground as with oak-roots, gathering for a Remus-spring over the walls of thy little fold. In Heaven’s name, go not near him with that fly-bite crook of thine! In good time, thou painful preacher, thou wilt go to the appointed place of departed Artillery-Election Sermons, Right-Hands of Fellowship, and Results of Councils, gathered to thy 215 spiritual fathers with much Latin of the Epitaphial sort; thou, too, shalt have thy reward; but on him the Eumenides have looked, not Xantippes of the pit, snake-tressed, finger-threatening, but radiantly calm as on antique gems; for him paws impatient the winged courser of the gods, champing unwelcome bit; him the starry deeps, the empyrean glooms, and far-flashing splendors await.
——:o:——
In Banter (Edited by G. A. Sala) for November 11, 1867, there is a parody on Carlyle entitled Shows and Shams, dealing with the Lord Mayor’s Show for that year. But the topic is exhausted, and the parody is exhausting.
In the Christmas Number of the World for 1879 there is an imitation of Carlyle, descriptive of a picture called Music in the Drawing Room, this parody is of no interest apart from the illustration.
“Carlyle Redivivus, being an occasional discourse on Sauerteig” by Smellfungus, Edited by P. P. Alexander, M. A., was a pamphlet published in Glasgow by Mr. James Maclehose. It was first published during Mr. Carlyle’s lifetime, and ran through several editions. It not only parodied Carlyle’s style, but criticised his theories.
Here then, by way of conclusion, is a piece of real genuine Carlyleism, printed in The Times as long ago as 1877, and not now so generally remembered as it deserves to be.
Mr. Carlyle on the Crisis.
(To the Editor.)
Sir,—A rumour everywhere prevails that our miraculous Premier, in spite of his Queen’s Proclamation of Neutrality, intends, under cover of “care for British interests,” to send the English Fleet to the Baltic, or do some other feat which shall compel Russia to declare war against England. Latterly the rumour has shifted from the Baltic and become still more sinister, on the eastern side of the scene, where a feat is contemplated that will force not Russia only, but all Europe, to declare war against us. This latter I have come to know as an indisputable fact; in our present affairs and outlooks surely a grave one.
As to “British interests,” there is none visible or conceivable to me, except taking strict charge of our route to India by Suez and Egypt; and, for the rest, resolutely steering altogether clear of any copartnery with the Turk in regard to this or any other “British interest” whatever. It should be felt by England as a real ignominy to be connected with such a Turk at all. Nay, if we still had, as, in fact, all ought to have, a wish to save him from perdition and annihilation in God’s world, the one future for him that has any hope in it is even now that of being conquered by the Russians and gradually schooled and drilled into peaceable attempt at learning to be himself governed. The newspaper outcry against Russia is no more respectable to me than the howling of Bedlam, proceeding, as it does, from the deepest ignorant egotism, and paltry national jealousy.
These things I write not on hearsay, but on accurate knowledge, and to all friends of their country will recommend immediate attention to them while there is yet time lest in a few weeks the maddest and most criminal thing that a British Government could do should be done, and all Europe kindle into flames of war. I am, &c.,
T. Carlyle.
5, Cheyne-row, Chelsea, May 4.
Born, February 7, 1812. Died, June 9, 1870.
On the second of August, 1879, there was a severe storm in London, and the Editor of The World offered prizes for the two best descriptions of it to be written in imitation of the style of the fifteenth chapter of Martin Chuzzlewit. This, it will be remembered, recounts the experiences of Martin and Mark Tapley, on their voyage to the States. The following were the successful compositions, which appeared in The World, August 27, 1879.
First Prize.
A bright warm close to a dull dripping week; Labour, just paid his weekly wages by Capital, taking a friendly cup in the alehouse porch; Capital giving a last look to his horses and wagons, as he saunters across the Home-meadow to his evening meal; youth of the village disporting itself on the village green; fishers’ boats coming in, booty-laden, from the open-sea; coastguardmen looking anxiously out for what neither village youth, nor Labour, nor keen-eyed Capital himself can see—a thin dark cloud-line upon the horizon, with grey curling fringes that point upwards and move slowly on, just as the advance guard of a mighty army crests with its bayonets the distant hill.
An hour passes. The sun sets, the cloud-bank rising over him, and his struggling beams throwing a wan unearthly glare across the western heavens. Ever and anon as the wind rises, the tall poplars shake their heads and whisper to the oaks and shrubs beneath them; then the breeze as suddenly dies away, and again over all Nature is spread the sable pall and deathlike silence of an impenetrable night; or a few heavy drops patter down on the still pool, and then cease—all again is hushed, all restful, but yet pregnant with the rest and hush that precedes the hurricane.
Ten, eleven, twelve! Does some relentless demon of the storm, from the old church-tower, give the signal for the war of the elements? Scarce has the midnight chime died away when the tempest wakes. First one vivid flash, then, before the crash reverberates from hill to hill, another succeeds it, and another—not the ordinary fitful change from gleam to gloom, from darkness to light, but the mad meeting of storms from every quarter of the heavens, in all the fulness of rage and strife, and never ceasing turmoil.
Again, again! The rain seems to crash down rather than to fall, streaming with a torrent’s force from the hillside, foaming, rushing, seething in a thousand eddies down to the swollen river, till the banks no longer endure the awful pressure, and the wild flashes laugh out, fiend-like, at trees and flocks and newly-stacked hay, all swept adrift, all whirled oceanwards.
Again, again! What further ruin can the storm-demon work? Gradually, unwillingly, the tempest departs; only the gray scattered clouds remain, hanging on the hill slope. Yet, as the daylight dawns, one sad cry is heard from all, “God’s house!”
The chimes are for ever silent, for God’s house has fallen! Just before the storm passed away a vivid flash struck the topmost pinnacle and caught the oaken rafters in the belfry—and now the roof has fallen in; the pillars 216 crumble beneath the still-consuming flame; the bells crash down from the steeple one by one, a smoking mass of blackened walls and arches alone bears witness to the past, alone tells of anthems raised to heaven by the white-robed choir, and earnest words of God’s chosen messengers, and the all-pervading incense of hushed and solemn prayer.
New Sarum.
Second Prize.
Murk midnight. Some in their beds for a moment waking only to hear the buffeting of the elements. Policemen, wetter than Ramsgate bathing-men, seeking the shelter of doorways. The bells of St. Paul’s unwillingly giving utterance to their dissatisfaction with their position by twelve muttering growls. The town, dry in the early spring, now ankle-deep in mud; the wind is no longer still, but, stealthily following the unwary foot-passenger, whirls off his hat, and, stopping for a moment in glee at his discomfiture, rushes on, eager for more mischief.
Now crowds, freed from their cramped postures in the playhouse, rush out upon the wild waste of the dripping Strand.
Here, roaring, fighting, pushing, elbowing each other into the howling fury of the night. Hither come chattering voices from the stalls, pit, and recesses of the theatre, where the chairs remain sole occupants of the place, and seem to say, “Ah, ha, here we are, snug for the night!”
Here in the eagerness of regained liberty, they storm and push each other, while the tempest falls in sheets of water, and howls above them. On and on in countless crowds they rush, like human billows. Men and women, hats, bonnets, and umbrellas, draggled dresses in one rushing wet mass. Pursuit of cabs, and fruitless return to the shelter of the passage; savage struggle of humanity enlivening the black night; little forbearance, but eternal fighting. On and on they surge, backwards and forwards, and darker grows the night, fiercer falls the hail, louder roars the thunder, more clamorous and angry the numberless voices in the street, when a wild cry goes forth, “A cab!” Onward it comes, fighting its way through the elements, the crazy door rattling; onward it comes, now free as the surging crowd falls back, now overwhelmed in a sea of human forms. And every voice in the multitude, answered by storm-voices in the air, shrieks more loudly, “A cab!”
Still he comes driving on, and at the boldness and determination of one man the angry crowd rise up, peering over each other’s heads, and round about the cab they press upon him, forcing each other down, and starting up and rushing forward in reckless eagerness.
Round it they surge and roar, and, giving way to others, moodily depart, still this one fights on bravely….
At last the eager multitude fall back, and dawn of day discovers the happy occupant within, with the elements still pouring their fury upon the devoted driver in an eternity of hail and rain, as on and on he goes into the far suburbs, with his dim lamps burning, and the fare inside asleep and snoring, as if there were no tempest trying every chink and cranny of the shaky vehicle, and no half-drowned cabby outside with only a moist billycock on his head, and sleepily yawning so wide that the spirits of the air, if they could exist on such a night, might look into the unfathomable depths below.
Robert le Diable.
The Age of Lawn-Tennis.
(After Charles Dickens’s “Pickwick.” A fragment.)
CHAPTER I.
The first record we have of the Hitquick Club, which has since assumed a position of proud eminence in the ball-playing world, is embodied in the following resolution, which appears in an old minute book, lately disinterred from the cloisters of Wymbledoune Priory.
“It is proposed by Mr. Pleycynge, and seconded by Mr. de Vorley,—
“That this Association has heard read, with feelings of unmingled satisfaction, the paper communicated by Verdant Hardcourt Hitquick, Esq., A.E.L.T.C.,[51] P.H.C.,[52] etc., etc., entitled, ‘Speculations on the origin of ball-playing, with some observations on the theory of the back-hander, and the parabola of the lob;’ and that this Association returns its warmest thanks for the same.”
It further appears that an amendment was suggested by Will. O’Bye Wisp, Esq., who had failed as a ball-player, and was better known as an enthusiastic Pyramidalist,—
“That the study of the triangular must inevitably result in greater benefits to the human race than the consideration of the sphere;” but, as this was unsupported by any further argument than that the triangle had more point than the ball, the original resolution was carried, Mr. Will. O’Bye Wisp alone dissenting.
It was further agreed, that V. H. Hitquick, Esq., should be President; that he, with Mr. Cutman, Mr. Shortgrass, and Mr. de Vorley, should be the Committee; and that Mr. Pleycynge should be the Secretary.
“A casual observer,” adds the Secretary, to whose notes we are indebted for the following interesting remarks, “A casual observer might have remarked nothing extraordinary in the appearance of V. H. Hitquick, Esq., during the reading of these resolutions; but to those who knew that there sat the man who had traced the origin of the ball into the early ages, when globular masses had been created by the introduction of the laws of gravity among shapeless matter; who had detected how, true to the model of the planetary system, the earliest balls had been ellipsoidal; how prehistoric men, in their primæval pastimes, had been driven nigh to frenzy by the false bounds arising out of this apparently heaven-directed shape; how, in such times, the advantages of service had been all preponderating; how certain crafty Chaldean astrologers in their studies had discovered the shape of the true sphere, and how, having backed themselves with wagers of corn and oil and wine, they had cheated in their international games by substituting the true spheres when they were being served to, and by using the ellipsoids when serving; to those, I say, who knew that there sat the man who had traced out all this and much else, by the research of half a lifetime, the sight, indeed, was an interesting one. Mr. Hitquick’s oration in response was remarkable;” but the damp of the Wymbledoune cloisters had here much obliterated the Secretary’s notes. It was gathered, however, that he was comparing the life of man to that of a tennis-ball, and was congratulating them “that the philanthropists and the ball-makers were rapidly, in both cases, eliminating the seamy side, though he was fain to acknowledge that some hollowness still remained in both.” Here the entry becomes illegible, and we have had to fall back upon tradition, and other sources, for what we are about to record further of the doings of the Hitquick Club.
CHAPTER II.
Mr. Hitquick, who had been delivering over-night, amidst much applause, an impressive lecture to the members of the Hitquick Club on various phases of Lawn-tennis dynamics, was with some difficulty roused from his slumbers on the particular morning of which it now becomes our duty to write.
217 “What’s that, Samuel?” he proceeded to say to his servant, as he sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes,—“a letter?”
“Yes, sir,” was the reply.
“Then bring me my spectacles,” said Mr. Hitquick.
“If you please, sir, a boy have walked over with this from Little Mugborough, and he’s a-vaiting below for a hanswer.”
“Very well, Samuel,” said Mr. Hitquick, as he adjusted his spectacles and opened the letter. “Why! dear me! What’s this?”
‘The Secretary of the Little Mugborough Lawn-Tennis Club presents his compliments to Mr. Hitquick, and begs to inform him that two members of his Club will be glad to play any two members of the Hitquick Association at four o’clock this afternoon.’
“Why! a challenge,” said Mr. Hitquick. “Of course, we will meet them. Let me see there’s Shortgrass and Cutman, two active men in the prime of life, who tell me they generally offer half-thirty in mixed country society; the very thing. Here, take this, Samuel.”
“It strikes me wery forcibly,” said Samuel to himself with a wink, “that, if those two gents don’t look a bit more spry this afternoon than I have ever seen them ven I have had the extreme privilege of vatching their performances, the Hitquick Club will have a very considerable wopping,”—and, whistling to himself, he went off with the letter.
Now, it must be confessed that neither Mr. Shortgrass nor Mr. Cutman were such performers on the Tennis-lawn as they had led their worthy President, Mr. Hitquick, to believe, nor as they had described themselves in their after-dinner conversations, as they sipped the soft claret for which the Hitquick Club was so deservedly famous; though certain papers which they had read before the members of the Association had, no doubt, stamped them as theoretical professors of no mean order.
Notably, a paper by Mr. Cutman on “Atmospheric resistance to the Cutman service in the latitude of Greenwich” (a lecture suggested by certain accurate memoranda, prepared by the statist of the Club, to the effect that only ’17 of these services so far overcame it as to pass over the net), had placed him in the front ranks of Lawn-tennis theorists; while a lecture by Mr. Shortgrass, on “Suspected tidal attraction on the Shortgrass lob” (accounting for the discovery by the same scientific observer that it almost always completed its parabola on Mr. Shortgrass’s side of the net), had brought him, too, into a leading position amongst spheric scientists.
At four o’clock, however, Mr. Shortgrass and Mr. Cutman stepped upon the lawn, prepared to do battle for the Hitquickians, and were soon confronted by the team from Little Mugborough.
The game began, A sharp service was sent to Mr. Shortgrass, who shut his eyes, hit wildly, and returned it accidentally. No one’s astonishment was greater than his own; he felt he had done enough; he shouted “yours” to balls which kept striking him on head, stomach, and legs, and did not appear to recover from his intense surprise till the umpire called, “Set the first, six games to love, Little Mugborough wins.”
“Call that placing, Samivel, my boy,” said a stout elderly gentleman, of horsey dress, to his son, who was no other than Mr. Hitquick’s servant; “call that placing? Vy! I should like to see one of these ere ball-placers as could flick a fly off a leader’s ear! That’s wot I calls placing, Samivel.”
Mr. Hitquick’s face had now begun to lengthen to such an extent as to cause a bystander to inform him that a curious compound of brandy and soda-water was to be obtained in the marquee close by, whither Mr. Hitquick, taking such bystander’s advice now adjourned.
“Capital game—smart sport—rare exercise—very,” were the words that fell upon Mr. Hitquick’s ear as he entered the marquee.
“What! Jangle?” said he, recognising an old acquaintance, “What brings you here?”
“ Me here—Wymbledoune Arms—met a party—capital fellows—gin and water—Lawn-tennis—great match—Little Mugborough—came on here—and here we are. What name? Know your face.”
“My name, sir, is Hitquick, author of a ‘Treatise on Balls;’ at your service, sir.”
“Ah! Hitquick—much pleasure—great man—good book—read it myself—Spheric lore—Sun, Saturn—Earth—Jupiter—pumpkins—balls—inter-threaded—human race—round games—round robins—general idea—deuced clever.”
“And do you—er—join, Mr. Jangle, in this—er—healthgiving pastime?”
“Play, Sir,” said Jangle—“I think I did—never heard?—queer thing—deuced strange—great traveller—round the world—visited Madagascar—met a stranger—said he could play—offered to play him—gave fifteen—thermometer 110 degrees in the shade—threw in a bisque—beat him hollow—no umpire—stranger riled—disputed scoring—they always do—ex-champion—name Shadow—all love-sets—play? rather.”
As Jangle and Mr. Hitquick reapproached the game, it had just become the duty of the umpire to cry: “Three sets to love, Little Mugborough wins,” thus deciding the match adversely to the Hitquickians. Mr. Hitquick retired a few paces from the bystanders, and, beckoning Shortgrass to approach, fixed a keen and searching glance upon him, and uttered in a low tone these remarkable words:—
“Sir, you’re a humbug.”
Turning to Cutman, who was trying to conceal himself behind his late partner, he added,—
“And you, too, sir.”
“What?” they both exclaimed, starting.
“Humbugs, sir. I will speak more plainly, if you desire it. Imposters, sir. Yes; imposters.”
And with these words Mr. Hitquick turned slowly on his heel, and proceeded to rejoin his friends.
This Parody originally appeared in Pastime, July 20, 1883. It was afterwards reprinted in Tennis Cuts and Quips, an amusing volume ably edited by Mr. Julian Marshall, and published by Field and Tuer, London.
The late Mr. Charles Stuart Calverley, the author of many clever parodies, was a diligent student of the works of Dickens, and when he entered at Christ’s College, Cambridge, in October 1852, it was generally admitted that he was more familiar with the Pickwick Papers than any other man in the University. Hence arose the jocular notion of having a competitive examination on that work, and Calverley drew up an ingenious syllabus of questions, from which it may be gathered how accurate and minute was his acquaintance with Pickwick. The examination was open to all members of Christ’s College, the first prize was taken by Mr. Walter Besant, and the second by Mr. (now Professor) Skeat, two gentlemen whose names have since become familiar in the literary world. The Pickwick Examination Paper will be found in Fly Leaves, by C. S. Calverley, published by G. Bell & Sons, a few specimen questions will show the humour of the thing:—
1. Mention any occasions on which it is specified that 218 the Fat Boy was not asleep; and that (1) Mr. Pickwick and (2) Mr. Weller, senr., ran. Deduce from expressions used on one occasion Mr. Pickwick’s maximum of speed.
2. Translate into coherent English, adding a note wherever a word, a construction, or an allusion requires it:
“Go on, Jemmy—like black-eyed Susan—all in the Downs”—“Smart chap that cabman—handled his fives well—but if I’d been your friend in the green jemmy—punch his head—pig’s whisper—pieman, too.”
Elucidate the expression, “the Spanish Traveller,” and the “narcotic bedstead.”
4. What operation was performed on Tom Smart’s chair? Who little thinks that in which pocket, of what garment, in where, he has left what, entreating him to return to whom, with how many what, and all how big?
5. Give, approximately, the height of Mr. Dubbley; and, accurately, the Christian names of Mr. Grummer, Mrs. Raddle, and the Fat Boy; also the surname of the Zephyr.
8. Give in full Samuel Weller’s first compliment to Mary, and his father’s critique upon the same young lady. What church was on the valentine that first attracted Mr. Samuel’s eye in the shop?
11. On finding his principal in the pound, Mr. Weller and the town-beadle varied directly. Show that the latter was ultimately eliminated, and state the number of rounds in the square which is not described.
12. “Any think for air and exercise; as the wery old donkey observed ven they voke him up from his deathbed to carry ten gen’lmen to Greenwich in a tax-cart.” Illustrate this by stating any remark recorded in the Pickwick Papers to have been made by a (previously) dumb animal, with the circumstances under which he made it.
15. Describe Weller’s Method of “gently indicating his presence” to the young lady in the garden; and the Form of Salutation usual among the coachmen of the period.
20. Write down the chorus to each verse of Mr. S. Weller’s song, and a sketch of the mottle-faced man’s excursus on it. Is there any ground for conjecturing that he (Sam) had more brothers than one?
23. “She’s a swelling visibly.” When did the same phenomenon occur again, and what fluid caused the pressure on the body in the latter case?
24. How did Mr. Weller, senior, define the Funds, and what view did he take of Reduced Consols? in what terms is his elastic force described, when he assaulted Mr. Stiggins at the meeting? Write down the name of the meeting?
30. Who, besides Mr. Pickwick, is recorded to have worn gaiters?
In connection with this examination reference may be made to the “Death of Mr. Pickwick,” by Messrs. W. Besant and J. Rice in “The Case of Mr. Lucraft, and other Tales.”
The Battle won by the Wind.
By the author of the “Picnic Papers,” “Barnaby
Fudge,” &c.
Night! Night and a thick darkness on the dreaming city. It was o’er all—that pitchy veil—o’er lone deserted streets and broad suburban roads, along which wagons with their great clamped wheels jolt forward to the early market—o’er square and terrace, and stately dome and carved pinnacle—a deep dense obscurity, into which tower and steeple rose and were lost to the eyes of the gazer from below!
Night! black, stormy, dreary night. Driving in long dim lines athwart the starless sky—lashing the sloping roofs of dripping houses—flooding kennel and gutter and choked-up drain—pattering like a loud chorus of rolling spectre drums at rattling windows and on streaming sky-lights—down—in one steady, uninterrupted, continuous pour—drove the wild storm of lashing hail and rain! A dismal night! A night for the well-housed to snoozle themselves up beneath the bed-clothes, and listen all crouchingly to the roaring of the tempest! A night for the homeless pauper to lie down on the lee side of hedge and stack—and stretching his stiffening limbs in the icy sludge, wait patiently until Death came by and touched him with its sceptre!
Night—a dreary, dismal, rainy, windy night! A night of unchained gale and unbridled hurricane! How the fierce wind roared, to be sure! How it roared in its wrath, and muttered in its sulkiness, and sung in its glee, and howled and shrieked and whistled and raved in the full swing of its fury. It was a jubilee—be certain of it—a time of jubilee with the Wind!—a night when it had full license and authority, and power and sanction, to do its best and its worst—by sea and by land—above and below. And did not the fierce wind avail itself of the opportunity? Did it not muster its forces, and its energies, and its powers, far up amongst the dim-driving clouds, preparing for the onset—preparing for its night of empire and of pillage and of mischief? And then, when its time of liberty came, did it not burst out with a roar, and a shout, and a clang, as of victorious trumpets—did it not career all madly over land and sea, beating down the weak and broken corn, and roaring over the stark brown moors, and catching the big leafy limbs of gnarled trees—gnarled old mighty trees which had stood there for centuries—and wrenching them all torn and riven and splintered from the groaning trunks, and then grappling and wrestling with them as strong men fight, until the victorious wind, with a loud shriek of triumph, would drag the huge branch out, and toss it contemptuously away!
Who—o—o—op! for the Battle won by the Wind!
But that was not all. No, no. It attacked the city too, as well as the country. It did. The wind! Coming with a sweep and a pounce and a roar and a whistle-shrieking up through empty streets—groaning with a hollow sound in dim big archways—catching as with a muscular grasp, vanes and weathercocks—coming to the outside of windows—laying hold of the glazed sashes—shaking and rattling them and shouting hoarse mad greeting to the people within—lingering, I say, an instant at such places, and then departing with a burst of uproarious joy to lay siege to some high old tottering ricketty gable, which it would so shake, and push, and pull, and cause to waver and quake—that the whole crazy old tenement to which it belonged would wheeze and creak and groan in sympathy, until the old men and the old women, who dwelt there for long years, would be terrified and frightened, and would cower down upon the hot hearths or in their beds, crying—“Woe is me, but this is a wild night!”
And it was—it was—a wild night.—Who—o—o—op for the Battle won by the Wind!
On a bridge which spans a black, swollen, mightily rushing river. Dim lights twinkle along its great massive, girding, granite parapets. The wind sweeps over it, and roars in the arches below, and catches up the bright foam from the water, and rushes along with it, scattering the spray in white handfuls aloft, so that the passenger 219 who looks into the gulf from between the balustrades of carven stone which fence the footpath, shrinks to see the driving masses of blurred whiteness—the vexed surface of the waters torn up and carried along by the strong broad hands of the blast!
Where a flickering lamp flashed and paled, and rose and fell within the streaming and storm-lashed crystal of its dripping prison, stood a woman—a woman, beautiful and alone. Black clusters of rain-drenched hair waved and streamed from her pale cheeks. Her garments were mean and sodden, and saturated with the storm; but her eye was bright and fierce, and burning with a fire not of this world—with a fire which once—when the western heaven opened, and the forked lightning leaped out into the darkness—confronted the fierce blaze—and gave it back glare for glare!
She stood beneath the flickering lamp. For a moment only. The next she was erect upon the parapet—her arms extended—her drapery streaming free—like a bird that preens its plumage for a new flight—a flight into another world?
Ha!—a voice! Yes—the woman’s—hark!
What says it? The words—the last words—have gone forth; and as the dark form disappears from its granite resting-place—disappears into the black, howling, lashing gulf beneath—these words ring up and away into the air—being carried on the wings of the tempest whithersoever it will—these awful words—
“Who—o—o—op for the Battle won by the Wind!”
Yes, yes—the wind of Passion—the breath of hopeless, homeless, heartless, Despair!
From The Puppet-Showman’s Album. Illustrated by Gavarni. London, no date.
Amongst the Sensation Novels, so skilfully condensed by Bret Harte, is a humourous parody of the most popular of Charles Dickens’s Christmas books. In it the leading characteristics and failings are admirably hit off, not only of Dickens, but also of Scott, Charles Lever, Marryat, Fennimore Cooper, Hawthorne, and Thackeray, as will be seen from the following extracts:—
The Haunted Man.
A Christmas Story.
Part I.
THE FIRST PHANTOM.
Don’t tell me that it wasn’t a knocker. I had seen it often enough, and I ought to know. So ought the three o’clock beer, in dirty highlows, swinging himself over the railing, or executing a demoniacal jig upon the doorstep; so ought the butcher, although butchers as a general thing are scornful of such trifles; so ought the postman, to whom knockers of the most extravagant description were merely human weaknesses, that were to be pitied and used. And so ought, for the matter of that, etc., etc., etc.
But then it was such, a knocker. A wild, extravagant, and utterly incomprehensible knocker. A knocker so mysterious and suspicious that Policeman X 37, first coming upon it, felt inclined to take it instantly in custody, but compromised with his professional instincts by sharply and sternly noting it with an eye that admitted of no nonsense, but confidently expected to detect its secret yet. An ugly knocker; a knocker with a hard, human face, that was a type of the harder human face within. A human face that held between its teeth a brazen rod. So hereafter in the mysterious future should be held, etc., etc.
But if the knocker had a fierce human aspect in the glare of day, you should have seen it at night, when it peered out of the gathering shadows and suggested an ambushed figure; when the light of the street lamps fell upon it, and wrought a play of sinister expression in its hard outlines; when it seemed to wink meaningly at a shrouded figure who, as the night fell darkly, crept up the steps and passed into the mysterious house; when the swinging door disclosed a black passage into which the figure seemed to lose itself and become a part of the mysterious gloom; when the night grew boisterous and the fierce wind made furious charges at the knocker, as if to wrench it off and carry it away in triumph. Such a night as this.
It was a wild and pitiless wind. A wind that had commenced life as a gentle country zephyr, but wandering through manufacturing towns had become demoralised, and reaching the city had plunged into extravagant dissipation and wild excesses. A roystering wind that indulged in Bacchanalian shouts on the street corners, that knocked off the hats from the heads of helpless passengers, and then fulfilled its duties by speeding away, like all young prodigals—to sea.
He sat alone in a gloomy library listening to the wind that roared in the chimney. Around him novels and storybooks were strewn thickly; in his lap he held one with its pages freshly cut, and turned the leaves wearily until his eyes rested upon a portrait in its frontispiece. And as the wind howled the more fiercely, and the darkness without fell blacker, a strange and fateful likeness to that portrait appeared above his chair and leaned upon his shoulder. The Haunted Man gazed at the portrait and sighed. The figure gazed at the portrait and sighed too.
“Here again?” said the Haunted Man.
“Here again,” it repeated in a low voice.
“Another novel?”
“Another novel.”
“The old story?”
“The old story.”
“I see a child,” said the Haunted Man, gazing from the pages of the book into the fire—“a most unnatural child, a model infant. It is prematurely old and philosophic. It dies in poverty to slow music. It dies surrounded by luxury to slow music. It dies with an accompaniment of golden water and rattling carts to slow music. Previous to its decease it makes a will; it repeats the Lord’s Prayer, it kisses the ‘boofer lady.’ That child——”
“Is mine,” said the phantom.
“I see a good woman, undersized. I see several charming women, but they are all undersized. They are more or less imbecile and idiotic, but always fascinating and undersized. They wear coquettish caps and aprons. I observe that feminine virtue is invariably below the medium height, and that it is always babyish and infantine. These women——”
“Are mine.”
“I see a haughty, proud, and wicked lady. She is tall and queenly. I remark that all proud and wicked women are tall and queenly. That woman——”
“Is mine,” said the phantom, wringing his hands.
“I see several things continually impending. I observe that whenever an accident, a murder, or death is about to happen, there is something in the furniture, in the locality, in the atmosphere that foreshadows and suggests it years in advance. I cannot say that in real life I have noticed it—the perception of this surprising fact belongs——”
220 “To me!” said the phantom. The Haunted Man continued, in a despairing tone:
“I see the influence of this in the magazines and daily papers: I see weak imitators rise up and enfeeble the world with senseless formula. I am getting tired of it. It won’t do, Charles! it won’t do!” and the Haunted Man buried his head in his hands and groaned. The figure looked down upon him sternly: the portrait in the frontispiece frowned as he gazed.
“Wretched man,” said the phantom, “and how have these things affected you?”
“Once I laughed and cried, but then I was younger. Now, I would forget them if I could.”
“Have then your wish. And take this with you, man whom I renounce. From this day henceforth you shall live with those whom I displace. Without forgetting me, ’twill be your lot to walk through life as if we had not met. But first you shall survey these scenes that henceforth must be yours. At one to-night prepare to meet the phantom I have raised. Farewell!”
The sound of its voice seemed to fade away with the dying wind, and the Haunted Man was alone. But the firelight flickered gaily, and the light danced on the walls, making grotesque figures of the furniture.
“Ha, ha!” said the Haunted Man, rubbing his hands gleefully; “now for a whiskey punch and a cigar.”
Book II.
THE SECOND PHANTOM.
One! The stroke of the far-off bell had hardly died before the front door closed with a reverberating clang. Steps were heard along the passage; the library door swung open of itself, and the Knocker—yes, the Knocker—slowly strode into the room. The Haunted Man rubbed his eyes—no! there could be no mistake about it—it was the Knocker’s face, mounted on a misty, almost imperceptible body. The brazen rod was transferred from its mouth to its right hand, where it was held like a ghostly truncheon.
“It’s a cold evening,” said the Haunted Man.
“It is,” said the Goblin, in a hard, metallic voice.
“It must be pretty cold out there,” said the Haunted Man, with vague politeness. “Do you ever—will you—take some hot water and brandy?”
“No,” said the Goblin.
“Perhaps you’d like it cold, by way of change?” continued the Haunted Man, correcting himself, as he remembered the peculiar temperature with which the Goblin was probably familiar.
“Time flies,” said the Goblin coldly. “We have no leisure for idle talk. Come!” He moved his ghostly truncheon towards the window, and laid his hand upon the other’s arm. At his touch the body of the Haunted Man seemed to become as thin and incorporeal as that of the Goblin himself, and together they glided out of the window into the black and blowy night.
In the rapidity of their flight the senses of the Haunted Man seemed to leave him. At length they stopped suddenly.
“What do you see?” asked the Goblin.
“I see a battlemented medieval castle. Gallant men in mail ride over the drawbridge, and kiss their gauntletted fingers to fair ladies, who wave their lily hands in return. I see fight and fray and tournament. I hear roaring heralds bawling the charms of delicate women, and shamelessly proclaiming their lovers. Stay. I see a Jewess about to leap from a battlement. I see knightly deeds, violence, rapine, and a good deal of blood. I’ve seen pretty much the same at Astley’s.”
“Look again.”
“I see purple moors, glens, masculine women, barelegged men, priggish bookworms, more violence, physical excellence, and blood. Always blood—and the superiority of physical attainments.”
“And how do you feel now?” said the Goblin.
The Haunted Man shrugged his shoulders.
“None the better for being carried back and asked to sympathise with a barbarous age.”
The Goblin smiled and clutched his arm; they again sped rapidly through the black night and again halted.
“What do you see?” said the Goblin.
“I see a barrack room, with a mess table, and a group of intoxicated Celtic officers telling funny stories, and giving challenges to duel. I see a young Irish gentleman capable of performing prodigies of valour. I learn incidentally that the acme of all heroism is the cornetcy of a dragoon regiment. I hear a good deal of French! No, thank you,” said the Haunted Man hurriedly, as he stayed the waving hand of the Goblin, “I would rather not go to the Peninsular, and don’t care to have a private interview with Napoleon.”
Again the Goblin flew away with the unfortunate man, and from a strange roaring below them, he judged they were above the ocean. A ship hove in sight, and the Goblin stayed its flight, “Look,” he said, squeezing his companion’s arm.
The Haunted Man yawned. “Don’t you think, Charles, you’re rather running this thing into the ground? Of course, it’s very moral and instructive, and all that. But aint there a little too much pantomime about it! Come now!”
“Look!” repeated the Goblin, pinching his arm malevolently. The Haunted Man groaned.
“Oh, of course, I see Her Majesty’s ship Arethusa. Of course I am familiar with her stern First Lieutenant, her eccentric Captain, her one fascinating, and several mischievous midshipmen. Of course, I know it’s a splendid thing to see all this, and not to be sea-sick. Oh, there the young gentlemen are going to play a trick on the purser. For God’s sake let us go,” and the unhappy man absolutely dragged the Goblin away with him.
* * * * *
The Haunted Man started, and—woke. The bright sunshine streamed into the room. The air was sparkling with frost. He ran joyously to the window and opened it. A small boy saluted him with “Merry Christmas.” The Haunted Man instantly gave him a Bank of England note. “How much like Tiny Tim, Tom and Bobby that boy looked—bless my soul, what a genius this Dickens has!”
A knock at the door, and Boots entered.
“Consider your salary doubled instantly. Have you read David Copperfield?”
“Yezzur.”
“Your salary is quadrupled. What do you think of the Old Curiosity Shop?”
The man instantly burst into a torrent of tears, and then into a roar of laughter.
“Enough. Here are five thousand pounds. Open a porter-house, and call it ‘Our Mutual Friend.’ Huzza! I feel so happy!” And the Haunted Man danced about the room.
And so, bathed in the light of that blessed sun, and yet glowing with the warmth of a good action, the Haunted Man, haunted no longer, save by those shapes which make the dreams of children beautiful, reseated himself in his chair, and finished Our Mutual Friend.
“Sensation Novels,” first introduced to the British public by the late John Camden Hotten in 1871, has been since republished by Ward, Lock & Co., London.
221 “Dombey and Son” Finished.
Part the Best and Last.
CHAPTER I.
It was ten o’clock! In the morning! The Easterly sun came down bright upon busy streets and grimy thoroughfares, and quiet places in the far off country. It was eleven o’clock! In the morning! The sun lighted up city churches and the broad river, and shone into death chambers, in houses at the doors of which stood mutes. It was twelve o’clock! Noon! Broad, bright, unwinking noon! The sun gleamed on many roofs—and on market gardens in the suburbs, and on potato cans in the streets, and into the counting house of Dombey and Son.
The clerks worked noiselessly that day—almost breathlessly. Many pens scratched on the paper, and yet no word was spoken. For Carker was there! Carker the smooth, the oily—the velvetty—the sly.
The sun gleamed through the window panes—it fell on Carker—and on Carker’s teeth. And still it gleamed—still it sparkled after the glass door had noiselessly opened, and before Carker was seen standing the form—the stately—cold—wifeless—childless form of Mr. Dombey!
There was a long pause. You could have heard all the pens going in the outer office. A long pause—long—very—very long. Carker spoke first, and when he spoke he seemed all teeth—white glistening teeth—like a shark of smooth tongue and oily address—accustomed to good society.
“Mr. Dombey—I delight to see you—I feel honoured—much honoured—deeply honoured—by this visit.”
There was another pause—longer than the first—Oh, yes! much longer! Eight minutes longer!
And Mr. Dombey drew himself up—up! High! higher! like the Genie in the Arabian Tales, till it appeared (to the eye of Perch which eye happened to be accidentally applied at the keyhole)—that the top of Mr. Dombey’s hat had touched—nay lifted off the roof of the counting house of Dombey and Son.
“Ha!” said Mr. Dombey, and Perch being frightened fell backwards upon a nail, and the pens in the outer office stopped.
“Ha! ha!” said Mr. Dombey—“here—come here—all of you,—and learn how to crush a viper.”
The clerks came accordingly—thronging about the door—with white faces and clenched hands—excepting Robinson, who was of a merry turn of mind, and who said audibly “here’s a lark.”
“Thus”—said Mr. Dombey, “thus it is I crush a viper.” His wild, big, grey eyes were fixed, yet flashing,—his long gaunt form worked and quivered like a galvanized corpse,—his face was as the face of a roasting demon!
Nobody saw anything of Carker but his teeth: yet from these teeth issued a hissing sound of “now.”
Could it be? It could! It was! Four policemen sprung from under the table and held four staffs up to Mr. Dombey’s nose!
“Now,” said the Teeth, “remove that man.”
Dombey stood like a statue carved out of Parian marble, but dressed in a hat, coat, pantaloons, wellingtons, and other minor articles of costume. He waved his hand and the constables fell back.
“Remove me—remove Dombey from the counting house of Dombey and Son?”
These were the only words he spoke; then his tongue clave unto the roof or ceiling of his mouth.
The Teeth spoke not—but they held up a board, a white painted board, such as may be seen at the doors of merchants’ offices. All started. For on the board was painted:—
CARKER. LATE DOMBEY AND SON.
“Mine”—hissed the Teeth—“mine—all is mine Dombey! Dombey! you have fallen! Dombey—you’re a beggar! Dombey—here’s a penny for you! Dombey—move on!”
A pause. Dombey as motionless as the figure-head of a stranded ship.
“You left me to manage your business—you did.—I managed it—ha! ha! ha!—till I made it mine! mine! ha! ha! Take the penny, Dombey! take it, that’s a good man, and go! go! go!”
“No!”
“No”—was it an echo? More actors on the scene? Aye. More! more!
The old woman—the old woman and the handsome daughter!—Edith’s counterpart—Edith in rags—Edith an outcast—Edith—Edith—Still—Still, Edith.
Oh! how the Teeth chattered—the Teeth—they did—as the lightening of that outcast’s eye flashed—and the cataract of that outcast’s hair streamed, and the trumpet of that outcast’s voice rang and re-echoed in God’s sunshine!
“Forger—Felon—Murderer! Ha! ha! ha! The hour is come—it is!”
And the old crone screamed in chorus “Felon!—it is!”
And where was Carker?
On the floor in a strong fit. Smitten—smitten—in his pride and his power. Smitten by the voice of the woman he had ruined—the woman he had tried to hang.—Now it was her turn! It was!
The policemen were gentle and not rough. They lifted the fallen man and took him away. Perch saw handcuffs on the manager’s wrists.
Then the counting house was locked up and seals put upon the doors. A great crowd stood long opposite to it. In the midst, Mr. Perch found Dombey with Carker’s penny still in his hand, and so led him away gently and gave him shelter at Ball’s-pond.
CHAPTER II.
“Ding-a-dong—a-ding-dong—ding-dong-boum.” Joy-bells—joy—for the wedding! the wedding! Ha! And at the Wooden Midshipman’s! Cap’en Cuttle was magnificent. He had had his hook polished with black lead, and looked himself as radiant as his hook—aye as radiant as he did, when, undressing the night before old Sol Gills tumbled into the garret through the skylight. Where had that old man been! Where—indeed where?
It was the question Cap’en Cuttle put—and in these terms.
“Whereby and awast—keep her head to the wind, and when kitched make a note on. Therefore—if so—say so—what’s in the log? Let dogs delight to bark and fight—for which see Dibdin—therefore—stand by it is—and that steady.”
Thus solemnly adjured Gills spoke—
“Where I have been—and what I have been doing” the old man said “is nothink to nobody.”
Ding-dong-bell—ding-a-dong—a-ding-dong! The wedding at the Wooden Midshipman! It was on the very day, almost at the very hour that the house of Dombey and Son was shut up, that the wedding party left the Wooden Midshipman. And did he not look happy—that Wooden Midshipman? A credible person, a Beadle, avers that the timber face smiled and the 222 timber lips shouted a loud “Hooray” in cadence with those joy-bells which still rung merrily from the grey towers of St. Koweld-without. Aye, and so they rang when, before the altar, stood Old Gills with a radiant countenance and flowing tears—and Captain Cuttle with a prayer-book in his hand (in order to check the parson and keep him right) and his silver chronometer hung on his hook “whereby to see fair play to all—awast and belay”—and Susan Nipper shedding tears indefatigably—and Wall’r and Florence.
The sun was in the heavens! But lo! through the stained glass, amid the saints and angels—gorgeous on that chancel window—fell its blessing light! Walter Gay and his bride stood hoping in the sun-shine!
“Wilt thou take this woman to be thy wedded wife?”
“Of course—no—that is—oh dear—dear—I beg pardon—its of no consequence—none in the least—don’t mind me,” ejaculated a voice from a dimly seen pew beneath the organ.
Thither repaired the Beadle full of wrath—and found the unhappy Toots fainting on a hassock. But the Game Chicken advancing, doubled the Beadle up—carried off Mr. Toots—deposited him in a patent safety, and conducted him—for the improvement and development of his mind, to see three hundred rats killed in five minutes, by a terrier much famed in Whitechapel.
So the sun had not begun to descend towards the west—ere the marriage party left the church, and—Wall’r and Florence, now Mr. and Mrs. Gay leading them on—took their way towards London-bridge.
CHAPTER III.
In a spacious room—sat Edith! In a spacious room—richly furnished—but dim—dim—as her aching soul. Gorgeous curtains shut out the light—the blessed light! It fell on all alike—that day—on the infant in his cradle—on the dead man in his coffin. On the kennel—on the palace—on Dombey straying away from Ball’s-pond—on Perch looking after him fruitlessly (in public houses). On Mr. and Mrs. Gay, and the Captain and Gills—all on the steamer’s deck going to eat the marriage feast at a pleasant suburban tavern called the Red House, Battersea—on Toots in the patent safety—on Carker with the teeth, in a cell of Newgate. On all—on all! But on Mrs. Dombey. There, there was darkness—darkness in the air—darkness in the soul—darkness in the light! Dim—aching—lonely—alone! Alone! but for her fearful thoughts! Which haunted her! Spectres—looming ghastly gray in the gloom! Spectres with rods and serpents! Gnawing in her soul—like unblessed things potent for evil and foul thoughts, and things accursed of man! Out—out—awful shadows!
But she sat there—rigid—unmoved. The mortal and the immortal. Edith and the shadows!
Suddenly a voice arose—cleaving the darkness—She listened—mechanically.
“A full, true, and particular account of the harrest of Mister Carker of the ’ouse of Dombey and Son in the City on three distinct charges hof forgery, perjury, and murder all for the small charge of one halfpenny.”
She fell on her knees, That erring woman—on her knees and her hands were uplifted, and on the bright face—tense and passion strung—played strange awful thoughts!
The shadows gathered round her!
Her head drooped—dropped until with a sudden clash the marble forehead smote the floor.
Still the shadows gathered round her! There was silence—but the low deep roar of humanity—the surges of the million-peopled city—spoke voiceless things in the summer air.
Listen to the music?
The shadows listened!
Edith lay on the floor beneath the music and the shadows! When the people of the house came, they found her——asleep!
“Ding-a-dong-a-ding-dong.” The echoes of the joy bells rung in the ears of the wedding party, even after they had got by steamer—as far as Hungerford. They were still there—lying close to the wooden pier—when there was a great outcry and a confusion, and many shouts of “He’s in—he’s in—a man in the river.” But the Cap’en was all presence of mind.—He saw the struggling form! and clambering down to the water by the paddle-wheel—with his hook—hooked it out. It was Dombey!
CHAPTER IV.
Walter Gay is now the head of the old city house of Dombey and Son.
Carker was hanged; and the Charitable Grinder was transported for picking Joey Bagstock’s pocket on that melancholy occasion.
Mr. Toots, under the tuition of the Game Chicken, set up for a sporting character—took in twelve dozen copies of Bell’s Life every week, and read them all one after the other.
The old woman and the handsome daughter are frequent guests at the Mansion House—where they are usually charged with breaking from 35 to 89 panes of glass in the West London Union.
The Game Chicken espoused Mrs. Pipchin, and the young couple set up a public-house called the “Peruvian Mines,” where Miss Tox is barmaid.
The Cap’en got a medal from the Humane Society for saving Dombey. He always carries it on his hook. Captain Bunsby married Mrs. Macstinger.
As for Dombey, he took to drinking at first—and then to being a church-rate martyr. He has since, however, become a reformed character, and is now a clerk in a saving’s bank at 18s. a-week. Occasionally, however, he and Perch have something comfortable together.
And what of Edith—erring, beauteous, haughty, impassioned Edith. She, too, was repentant. At first she officiated as a pew-opener at a very fashionable chapel. But here she was persecuted by Major Bagstock and Cousin Feenix—both of whom used to squeeze her hand when she showed them into pews. At length she retired from the world, and now gets up fine linen at Tooting.
As for Joey B. and Cousin Feenix they challenged each other with respect to Mrs. Dombey. Neither of them, however, appeared at the place of mortal combat, and neither has been seen, nor heard of since.
From The Man in the Moon, Edited by Angus B. Reach. Volume III. London, no date, but about 1848-9.
Our Miscellany (which ought to have come out, but didn’t); edited by E. H. Yates and R. B. Brough, and published by G. Routledge & Co., London, in 1856, contained several prose parodies, and amongst them one upon Charles Dickens. This was written by Brough, and 223 consisted of three chapters, of which it will suffice to quote the first:
Hard Times.[53]
(Refinished.)
By Charles Diggins.
CHAPTER XXXV.
They coovered poor Stephen Blackpool’s face!
The crowd from the Old Hell Shaft pressed around him. Mr. Gradgrind ran to look at the sufferer’s face, but in doing so, he trod on a daisy. He wept: and a hundred and sixty more of his hairs turned gray. He would tread on no more daisies!
He was not, however, to be baulked in his humble, honest purpose of self-reform. As he passed over the common, a donkey kicked him. It reminded him that facts were stubborn things: and he had done with facts and stubbornness. He wept again.
“Rachel, beloved lass, art thou by me?”
“Ay, Stephen; how dost thou feel?”
“Hoomble and happy, lass. I be grateful and thankful. I be obliged to them as have brought charges o’ robbery agin me; an’ I hope as them as did it will be happy an’ enjoy the fruits. I do only look on my being pitched down that theer shaft, and having all my bones broke, as a mercy and a providence, and God bless ev’rybody!”
“Stephen, your head be a wandering.”
“Ay, lass; awlus a muddle.”
“Will you take anything, Stephen?”
“I do hoombly thank thee for a good and trew lass thou hast awlus been to me; and I dunnot care if I do take a little soomut warm—wi’ a little sugar.”
The sobered man had still credit at the neighbouring tavern. In two seconds he appeared with a steaming glass of rum-and-water, scarcely stopping to sip it by the way.
“Can thou drink rum, Stephen?” asked Rachel, taking the tumbler from the hands of the sobered man for fear of accidents.
“I do hoombly and kindly thank thee, lass,” said poor Stephen; “I can drink anything.”
Rachel placed the goblet to his parched and quivering lips.
There was a moment of breathless silence. Mr. Bounderby rattled three-and-sixpence in his breeches pocket, and finding that his ostentation was unnoticed, kicked a little boy down the Old Hell Shaft. Mr. Gradgrind purchased a pennyworth of violets from a blue-eyed flower-girl, and true to his new and trusting creed, accepted two counterfeit farthings as change for a sovereign without looking at them. The Whelp glared fiercely at the rum-and-water, and barked.
Stephen drank it, every drop. Finished. Down to the dregs. No heel-taps.
“I do hoombly thank thee, Rachel, good and trew lass as thou hast been to me; but I do feel much better.”
“Oh, here!” Mr. Bounderby blustered forward: “I’m not going to stand this. If a man suspected of robbing Josiah Bounderby, of Coketown’s Bank, is to feel ‘much better,’ I should like to know what’s the use of Old Hell Shafts. There’s a touch of the gold-spoon game in that; and I’m up to the gold-spoon game—rather! And it wont go down with Josiah Bounderby. Of Coketown. Not exactly. Here! Where’s a constable?”
There was none. Of course not. There never is, when wanted.
Mrs. Sparsit and Bitzer pressed officiously forward, and volunteered to take Stephen into custody.
“Shame!” cried the populace.
“Oh, I daresay,” said Mr. Bounderby; “I’m a self-made man, and, having made myself, am not likely to be ashamed of anything. There, take him along.”
There was a movement, as if for a rescue. The sobered man had been sober quite long enough without a fight, and tucked up his sleeves.
Stephen prevented this explosion.
“Noa, lads,” he said, in his meek broken voice; “dunnot try to resky me. I be fond o’ constables. I like going to prison. As for hard labour, I ha’ been used to that long enough. Wi’ regard to law—it’s awlus a muddle.”
“Off with him!” said Mr. Bounderby. “When I used to commit robberies, I never had any rum-and-water given to me. No, nor didn’t talk about muddles. And I’m worth sixty thousand pounds, and have got ladies of family—ladies of family;”—he raised his voice to call attention to Mrs. Sparsit, who was ambling gently along with the submissive Stephen on her august shoulders—“acting as beasts of burden for me. Come up, madam!” and he gave Mrs. Sparsit a gentle touch of his whip, causing that high-nosed lady to prance a little.
They moved on, towards Coketown. The lights were beginning to blink through the fog. Like winking. The seven o’clock bells were ringing. Like one o’clock. Suddenly the tramp of horses and the fierce barking of a dog were heard.
With a wild cry, Sissy recognised Sleary’s company galloping towards them—all mounted; Mr. Sleary himself, grown much stouter, on his wonderful trained Arab steed, Bolivar; J. W. B. Childers, who had apparently not had time to change his dress, as the Indian warrior on the celebrated spotted Pegasus of the Caucasus; Kidderminster following, on the comic performing donkey, Jerusalem.
A dog, far in advance of the horse-riders, dashed amongst the astonished crowd, and singling out Mr. Bounderby, seized him by the scruff of the neck.
“Thath wight, Mewwylegth,” cried Mr. S., coming up panting (in addition to his former lisp, advancing age had afflicted him with a difficulty in pronouncing his r’s). “Thath the vewy identical cove: pin him! Good dog!”
“Help! murder!” cried the bully of humility, struggling with the animal. “Will you see a man worth sixty thousand pounds devoured by a dog?”
The prospect seemed to afford the bystanders considerable satisfaction.
“Ith no uthe, Thquire,” said Sleary, calmly; “the dog wont let go hith hold of you;” and he added, in a hissing voice, “ith Jupeth dog!”
“It’s a lie,” Bounderby faltered; “I didn’t murder him—he did it himself. I never saw the man. He hit me first. I never spoke to a clown in my life. Tear this hound off.”
“Quite enough, Thquire,” said Sleary. “I call on everybody in the Queenth name to athitht me in arethting 224 thith man, Jothiah Bounderby, for the murder of my clown, Jupe, thickthteen yearth ago.”
Sissy fainted into the Whelp’s arms. From that moment the latter quadruped resolved to lead a virtuous life.
Mrs. Sparsit and Bitzer, with the alacrity of timeservers, released Stephen, and seized on their former patron. Stephen slipped quietly away in the confusion of the moment, remarking, with a wink of satisfaction to Rachel, “Awlus a muddle!”
Merrylegs retained his hold on his victim’s throat. Like a vice.
“Murder!” cried Bounderby! “release me from this dog, or demon, and I will confess all.”
“Mewwylegth, come here, thir!”
Merrylegs released his victim.
“Well, then,” said the detected miscreant, desperately—“sixteen years ago I murdered the man, Jupe, to obtain possession of eighteen-pence, with which I entered Coketown, and set up in business. And now, do your worst.”
The crowd recoiled in horror. The sobered man picked up Mr. Bounderby’s hat, that had dropped off in the scuffle, and immediately pawned it.
“Off with him!” cried Sleary, in a tone of theatrical authority,—“to jail!”
To jail! to jail! to jail!
* * * * *
——:o:——
The Political “Mrs. Gummidge.”
A “Dickens” of a Situation.
Mrs. Gummidge-Gladstone had been in a low state for some time, and had almost burst into tears when a chill gust from the North, coming suddenly, and—to her—unexpectedly down the chimney, had blown the lid off the bubbling saucepan, and the soot into the stew therein.
“I am a much-crossed cretur’,” were Mrs. Gummidge’s words, when that unpleasant occurrence took place, “and everythink goes contrairy with me.”
“Oh, it’ll soon leave off,” said Mr. Peggotty-Bull—meaning the North wind,—“and besides, you know, it’s not more disagreeable to you than it is to us.”
“I feel it more,” said Mrs. Gummidge-Gladstone.
It was indeed a very cold, cheerless day, with cutting blasts of wind, which seemed to blow from every quarter at once, but from the North and East for choice, Mrs. Gummidge’s peculiar corner of the fireside seemed—to her at least—to be the chilliest and most uncomfortable, as her seat was certainly the hardest. She complained of the North-Easter, and of its visitation just at this time and at her back, which she said gave her the “creeps.”
“It is certainly very uncomfortable,” said Mr. Peggotty-Bull. “Everybody must feel it so.”
“I feel it more than other people,” said Mrs. Gummidge.
So at dinner. The fish—from which she had expected great things—were small and bony, and the stew was smoky and burnt. All acknowledged that they felt this something of a disappointment, but Mrs. Gummidge said she felt it more than they did, and again made that former declaration with great bitterness—“I’m a much-crossed cretur’, and every think goes contrairy with me.”
Later, when Mr. Peggotty-Bull came home to tea, this unfortunate Mrs. Gummidge-Gladstone was knitting in her corner, in a very wretched and miserable condition. Her knitting—a nondescript piece of work—seemed to be a regular Egyptian labyrinth for complicated tangle, and a very Penelope’s web for inconclusiveness and power of alternate weaving and unweaving. “Cheer up, Grand Mawther!” cried Mr. Peggotty-Bull. (Mr. Peggotty meant Grand Old Girl.)
Mrs. Gummidge did not appear to be able to cheer up. She dropped her knitting with a gesture of despair.
“What’s amiss, Dame?” said Mr. Peggotty-Bull.
“Everythink!” returned Mrs. Gummidge. “Including you,” she continued, dolefully. “You’ve a willing mind to face the troubles before you, but you ain’t ready. I’m sorry it should be along o’ me that you’re so unready.”
“Along o’ you? It ain’t along o’ you!” said Mr. Peggotty, good naturedly, and perhaps without quite meaning it. “Don’t ye believe a bit on it,”
“Yes, yes, it is!” cried Mrs. Gummidge-Gladstone. “I know what I am. I know that I am a much-crossed cretur’, and not only that everythink goes contrairy with me, but that I go contrairy with everybody. Yes, yes. I feel more than other people do, and I show it more. It’s my misfortun.”
One really couldn’t help thinking that the misfortune extended to some other Members of that House, besides Mrs. Gummidge.
“I ain’t what I could wish myself to be,” said Mrs. Gummidge. “I am far from it. I know what I am. My troubles has made me contrairy. I feel my troubles, and they makes me contrairy. I wish I didn’t feel them, but I do. I wish I could be harden’d to ’em, but I ain’t. If I felt less, I could do more. I make the House uncomfortable. I don’t wonder at it. It’s far from right that I should do it. I’d better leave the House. I’m a much-crossed cretur’, and had better not make myself contrairy here. If thinks must go contrairy with me, and I must go contrairy myself, let me go contrairy alone at my own place. I’d better leave the House, and retire and be a riddance.”
Mr. Peggotty-Bull, whose countenance had exhibited the mixed traces of many feelings, including puzzlement, impatience, and profound sympathy, looked upward at a portrait of an ancient, but buck-like and somewhat Hebraic personage upon the wall, and, shaking his head, with a lively expression of those mixed sentiments still animating his face, said, in a solemn whisper,
“She’s been thinking of the Old ’Un!”
This parody of “David Copperfield” appeared in Punch May 2, 1885, it was illustrated by an excellent cartoon of Mr. Gladstone as “Mrs. Gummidge.”
——:o:——
Space will not permit of the insertion of further extracts from the parodies on Dickens, it remains, therefore, to enumerate his principal works in chronological order, followed by a list of the parodies, imitations, and plays founded upon them:—
Sam Weller, a Journal of Wit and Humour. Edited by Sam Slick, with illustrations. 1837.
Posthumous Papers of the Cadgers’ Club. With sixteen engravings. London. E. Lloyd, about 1837.
Posthumous Papers of the Wonderful Discovery Club, formerly of Camden Town. Established by Sir Peter Patron. Edited by “Poz.” With eleven illustrations, designed by Squib, and engraved by Point. London. 1838.
The Post-humourous Notes of the Pickwickian Club. Edited by “Bos.” 2 vols, with numerous illustrations. London.
Pickwick in America, detailing all the adventures of that individual in the United States. Edited by “Bos.” Illustrated with forty-six engravings by “Phis.” London. E. Lloyd, about 1837.
Pickwick Abroad, or a Tour in France, by G. W. M. Reynolds. This is a thick octavo volume, published in 1839, with numerous illustrations. The first edition is rather scarce, but reprints (published by Willoughby & Co., London) are not difficult to procure. The woodcuts, in the body of the book, are curious, as showing the architecture and appearance of the principal streets of Paris fifty years ago.
The Adventures of Marmaduke Midge, the Pickwickian Legatee. (Particulars of this work are wanting.)
Amongst the many piracies and imitations of The Pickwick Papers, was “The Penny Pickwick,” edited by “Bos,” with illustrations. The preface is signed “Bos,” Rose Cottage, St. John’s Wood. Printed and published by E. Lloyd, Bloomsbury. 1838.
There were also numerous song and jest books named after either Mr. Pickwick or Sam Weller, but these scarcely come within the scope of this list.
The Life and Adventures of Oliver Twiss, the Workhouse Boy. Edited by “Bos.” London. No date, about 1840.
Scenes from the Life of Nickleby Married, containing certain Remarkable Passages, Strange Adventures, and Extraordinary Occurrences that befel the Nickleby Family in their further Career, being a Sequel to “Nicholas Nickleby.” Edited by “Guess.” With twenty-one illustrations by “Quiz.” London. John Williams, Paternoster Row. 1840.
Nickelas Nickelbery. Containing the Adventures, Misadventures, Chances, Mis-Chances, Fortunes, Mis-fortunes, Mysteries, Mis-eries, and Miscellaneous manœuvres of the Family of Nickelbery. By “Bos.” With forty-three woodcut illustrations. London. E. Lloyd, about 1838. An impudent piracy upon Nicholas Nickleby, published in penny weekly numbers, and parodying the whole of the story and characters, under very slightly altered names. This has been ascribed to Mr. J. P. Prest.
The Nickleby Papers, by “Poz.” In penny numbers.
Mister Humfries’ Clock. “Bos,” maker. A Miscellany of striking interest. Illustrated. London, 1840.
Master Timothy’s Bookcase; or, the Magic Lanthorn of the World. By G. W. M. Reynolds. London, 1842.
A Girl at a Railway Junction’s Reply [to an article in the Christmas number for 1866 of “All the Year Round,” entitled “Mugby Junction.”] London.
Parley’s Penny Library. Containing piratical versions of Barnaby Rudge, the Old Curiosity Shop, and the Picnic Papers. About 1841.
Change for the American Notes; or, Letters from London to New York. By an American Lady. London. Wiley and Putnam. 1843. (This was written by a Yorkshireman, Mr. Henry Wood.)
Current American Notes. By “Buz.” London. No date.
Christmas Eve with the Spirits, with some further tidings of the Lives of Scrooge and Tiny Tim. London, 1870.
A Christmas Carol. Being a few scattered staves from a familiar composition, re-arranged for performance by a Distinguished Musical Amateur, during the Holiday season, at Hawarden.—Punch. December 26, 1885. This is a political skit, the only present interest of which consists in the four very humourous illustrations by Harry Furniss, which are exquisite parodies of those by John Leech, in the original book.
The Faces in the Fire; a Story for the Season. By Redgap. With illustrations by T. H. Nicholson: London. Willoughby & Co., Warwick Lane. No date. Dedicated to the Earl of Carlisle. Pp. 165. (Written in imitation of Dickens’s Christmas Books, and published about 1845.) In a second edition, published by James Blackwood, in 1856, the name of George Frederick Pardon is given on the title page as the author.
January Eve. A Tale of the Times. By George Soane, B.A. London: E. Churton, 1847: pp. 180. Dedicated to Lord John Russell. In his preface the author not only admits that a similarity exists between his writings and those of Dickens, but is bold enough to assert that he, and not Dickens, is the original “Simon Pure.” “A little tale of mine, the Three Spirits, was thought by many to be exceedingly like Boz’s ‘Christmas Carol,’ yet the Carol was not published till some years after it. If then, there be any imitation in the case at all, it is Boz—glorious Boz—who has taken a hint from my writings.”
The Battle of London Life; or, “Boz” and his Secretary. By Morna. With a portrait and illustrations by G. A. Sala. This is a scarce little volume of 106 pages, which was published by George Peirce, of 310, Strand, London, in 1849. It was written by Thomas M. O’Keefe, although it is generally attributed to Mr. George Augustus Sala; he certainly furnished several illustrations, which are signed G. Sala, and on the cover there is an advertisement of “The April Fool Book,” written by the author of “The Battle of London Life,” also illustrated by George Sala.
Old Jolliffe: Not a Goblin Story. By the Spirit of a little Bell, awakened by “The Chimes.” London: W. N. Wright, 1845. Dedicated to Queen Adelaide. Pp. 56.
The Wedding Bells, an Echo of “The Chimes,” with coloured illustrations by the Author, who states that the work was suggested by “The Chimes” of Charles Dickens.
Facts and Figures from Italy. Addressed during the last two winters to C. Dickens, being an appendix to his “Pictures.” By Don Jeremy Savonarola. London, R. Bentley, 1847. This was written by Francis Mahony. (“Father Prout.”)
The Sketch Book. By “Bos.” Containing tales, sketches, etc. With seventeen woodcut illustrations. London.
226 Dombey and Daughter: A Moral Fiction. By Renton Nicholson, Lord Chief Baron of the celebrated Judge and Jury Society, held at the Garrick’s Head Hotel, Bow Street. London. Thomas Farris. No date, about 1847. With illustrations. Pp. 94. At the end of the story Baron Nicholson bids his readers Farewell, and remarks, “I think I may, without arrogance, predict that these pages will be read with pleasure by those whose tastes are not vitiated, and who prefer a simple story, representing scenes of real life, to the monstrous productions of a feverish imagination, which of late have been received with unmerited though almost universal applause.” This was published in monthly parts.
Renton Nicholson also wrote Cockney Adventures, and Tales of London Life, in imitation of the Pickwick Papers.
Dombey and Father, by Buz. A Satire on Charles Dickens. New York, 1868.
Micawber Redivivus; or, How to make a fortune as a Middleman, etc. By Jonathan Coalfield [i.e. W. Graham Simpson?].
Bleak House; a Narrative of Real Life. Being a faithful detail of facts connected with a suit in the Irish Court of Chancery, from the year 1826 to 1851. London, H. Elliott. 1856.
Characteristic Sketches of Young Gentlemen. By Quiz Junior. With Illustrations. London. W. Kidd.
A Child’s History of Germany. By H. W. Friedlaender. A pendant to a “Child’s History of England,” by Charles Dickens. Celle, 1861.
No Thoroughfare; the Book in Eight Acts. This parody appeared in “The Mask,” No. 1, February, 1868.
No Thoroughfare. A parody upon Dickens’s N.T. By C—s D—s, B. Brownjohn and Domby. Boston U.S.
The Mystery of Mr. E. Drood. Specimen of an Adaptation. By Orpheus C. Kerr. (Three and a half pages.) Published in The Piccadilly Annual. London. John Camden Hotten. December, 1870. This very scarce little work contains Hunted Down, by Charles Dickens, which is not generally included amongst his collected writings. It was originally written for an American publisher.
The Mystery of Edwin Drood, Complete. Part the Second by the Spirit Pen of Charles Dickens, through a medium; embodying also that Part of the Work which was published prior to the Termination of the Author’s Earth-Life. 1873. The medium was Mr. J. P. James, of Brattleborough, Vermont, U. S.
John Jasper’s Secret, being a Narrative of Certain Events following and Explaining “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” with illustrations. Philadelphia, about 1871. Also published in London in 1872.
The Cloven Foot; being an adaptation of the English novel, “The Mystery of Edwin Drood” to American scenes, characters, customs, and nomenclature. By Orpheus C. Kerr. New York, 1870.
A Great Mystery Solved: Being a Sequel to “The Mystery of Edwin Drood.” By Gillan Vase. In three vols. London, Remington and Co, 1878. Preface dated Hanover, July 12, 1878.
Rifts in the Veil, a Collection of Inspirational Poems and Essays, given through Various Forms of Mediumship. London, W. H. Harrison. 1878. This work on Spiritualism contains particulars of a continuation of “Edwin Drood,” which is said to have been dictated through a medium. The article occupies 30 closely printed pages, and is entitled “An alleged Postmortem work by Charles Dickens.”
Plays founded upon the Novels of Charles Dickens.
As is well known Charles Dickens strongly objected to his Novels being adapted for the Stage, yet scarcely one of his better known works escaped that penalty of popularity. As most of these stage adaptations are little better than parodies, or imitations, a catalogue of them may be fitly inserted here.
In this compilation some assistance has been derived from the life of Dickens, by Mr. F. T. Marzials, (London, Walter Scott, 1887), but the following list contains more entries, and fuller details than he gave. It is, in fact, the only approximately complete list of plays founded on Dickens’s Works, giving the date and place where first performed, and the names of the publishers, where they could be ascertained.
Sam Weller, or the Pickwickians, a Drama in three acts, first performed at the Strand New Theatre, London, July 17, 1837. By W. T. Moncrieff. (Dicks 541.) This has a long preface, in which the author defends himself against the charge of having merely transferred Dickens’s characters and incidents from the story to a play. He says, indeed, that he thinks Dickens ought to be grateful to him, for the popularity of the play had greatly extended the fame of the story.
The Pickwickians; or, the Peregrinations of Sam Weller. Arranged from Mr. W. T. Moncrieff’s adaptation by T. H. Lacy. London. 1837. (Lacy 315.)
The Pickwick Club. A Burletta in three acts, by E. Stirling. City of London Theatre, April 27, 1837. (Duncombe.)
The Peregrinations of Pickwick, an acting Drama. By William Leman Rede. London, W. Strange. 1837.
Bardell v. Pickwick: versified and diversified. Songs and choruses. Words by T. H. Gem. Leamington, 1881.
The Great Pickwick Case, arranged as a Comic Operetta. The words of the songs by Robert Pollitt. Manchester, Abel Heywood & Son, 1884.
Bardell v. Pickwick. (Dicks 636.)
Last of the Pickwickiana comes Mr. F. C. Burnand’s dramatic Cantata, Pickwick, with music by Mr. Edward Solomon, which was produced at the Comedy Theatre, London, early in 1889. The parts were thus distributed, Pickwick by Mr. Arthur Cecil, Mrs. Bardell by Miss Lottie Venne, and “The Baker” by Mr. Rutland Barrington.
This Cantata has not yet been published.
There can be no doubt but that the character of Sam Weller made the fortune of The Pickwick Papers when they first appeared in monthly parts, and sent the circulation up from a poor 400 to 40,000. The germ of this character has been traced back to a play, written by Mr. Samuel Beazley, entitled “The Boarding House,” and produced at what is now called the Lyceum Theatre, in 1811. That there is a slight resemblance in Simon Spatterdash in this play to Sam Weller cannot be denied, and Dickens may have seen or read the play, and have been struck with the possibility of converting the character of Spatterdash into that of his own immortal Sam.
Oliver Twist; or the Parish Boy’s Progress. A Drama in three acts. By C. Z. Barnett. First performed at the Pavilion Theatre, May 21, 1838. (S. French.)
Oliver Twist. A serio-comic Burletta, in three acts, by 227 George Almar. Performed at the Royal Surrey Theatre, London, November 19, 1838. (Dicks 293.)
A similar adaptation, but in four acts, was published in New York.
Bumble’s Courtship. From Dickens’s “Oliver Twist.” A Comic Interlude, in one act. By Frank E. Emson. London. (Lacy.)
Nicholas Nickleby, a Farce in Two Acts. By Edward Stirling. Produced at the Adelphi Theatre, London 1838. (S. French 264.)
Nicholas Nickleby, a Drama in Four Acts. Adapted by H. Simms. First performed at the Theatre Royal, Brighton, 1875. (Dicks 469.)
The Infant Phenomenon; or, a Rehearsal Rehearsed. A Dramatic Piece in one Act. Being an episode in the adventures of Nicholas Nickleby. Adapted by H. Horncastle, and originally produced at the Strand Theatre, London, July 8, 1842. (Dicks 572.)
The Fortunes of Smike, or, a Sequel to Nicholas Nickleby; a Drama in Two Acts. By Edward Stirling, London. Adelphi Theatre. London, March 2, 1840. (Webster’s Acting Drama 94.)
Nicholas Nickleby; an Episodic Sketch; in three tableaux, based upon an incident in “Nicholas Nickleby.” Not published. Strand Theatre, Sept. 10, 1885.
Barnaby Rudge. A Domestic Drama, in Three Acts. By Charles Selby and Charles Melville. First performed at the English Opera House, June 28, 1841. (Dicks 393.)
Barnaby Rudge; or, the Murder at the Warren, a Drama in Three Acts, by Thomas Higgie. No date. (Lacy.)
Barnaby Rudge. A Burlesque upon the Version now being played at the Princess’s Theatre, London. Fun. November 24, 1866.
Master Humphrey’s Clock; a Domestic Drama, in Two Acts. By Frederick Fox Cooper. Victoria Theatre, London, May 26, 1840. (Lacy.)
The Old Curiosity Shop. A Drama in Four Acts. Adapted by George Lander. First produced at the Theatre Royal, York, May 14, 1877. (Dicks 398.)
The Old Curiosity Shop; a Drama in Two Acts. By Edward Stirling. Adelphi Theatre, November 9, 1840. (French 1147.)
The Old Curiosity Shop; a Drama, in Four Acts. Adapted by Mr. Charles Dickens, Junr., from his Father’s Novel. Not published. Opera Comique Theatre. 1884.
Mrs. Jarley’s Far-Famed Collection of Wax-Works, as arranged by G. B. Bartlett. In Two Parts. London.
Yankee Notes for English Circulation. A Farce in One Act, by Edward Stirling. Adelphi Theatre. London. 1843. (Duncombe’s Theatre.)
Martin Chuzzlewit, a Drama in Three Acts by Charles Webb. London. (Barth.)
Martin Chuzzlewit; or, his wills and his ways, what he did, and what he didn’t. A Domestic Drama, in Three Acts, by Thomas Higgie and T. H. Lacy. Lyceum Theatre, London, July 8, 1844. (S. French 330.)
So says the acting copy, but see next entry:
Martin Chuzzlewit; a Drama in Three Acts. By Edward Stirling. This, it is stated on the acting copy, was produced at the Lyceum Theatre July 8, 1844. The two versions are unlike, and it is clearly impossible that both could have been produced on the same night at the same theatre. It is probable that Higgie and Lacy’s version was that which was produced at the Strand Theatre July 15, 1844. (Duncombe’s plays.)
Tom Pinch. Domestic Comedy in Three Acts By Joseph J. Dilley and Lewis Clifton. Vaudeville Theatre, London, March 10, 1881. (S. French 1803.)
Mrs. Sarah Gamp’s Tea and Turn Out; a Bozzian Sketch, in One Act, by B. Webster. Adelphi Theatre, London, October 26, 1846. (Webster’s Drama 136.)
Tartuffe Junior, Von H. C. L. Klein. Neuwied, 1864. (A Play in Five Acts after “Martin Chuzzlewit.”)
Mrs. Gamp’s Party. An adaptation in One Act. Manchester. Abel Heywood & Son.
Mrs. Harris. A Farce in One Act, by Edward Stirling. Lyceum Theatre, October, 1846. (Duncombe.)
The Cricket on the Hearth, a Fairy Tale of Home, in two acts. By Edward Stirling. Adelphi Theatre, London, December 31, 1845. (Webster’s Drama 124.)
The Cricket on the Hearth; or, a Fairy Tale of Home. A Drama, in three acts. Dramatised by Albert Smith, by the express permission of the Author. First produced at the Lyceum Theatre, 1845, and at the Winter Garden, New York, September 14, 1859. (Dicks 394.)
The Cricket on the Hearth, a Fairy Tale of Home in Three Chirps. By W. T. Townsend. London. (Lacy 649.)
This was another version which was produced at the City of London Theatre, January 7, 1846.
A Christmas Carol; or, the Miser’s Warning, by C. Z. Barnett. Produced at the Surrey Theatre, February 5, 1844. This adaptation was published with a note stating that “the extreme necessity (the consequence of its high and deserved popularity) that so imperatively called for its representation on the stage, has also demanded its publication as a Drama, which it is the Adapter’s sincere wish, as it is his conviction, will considerably augment the sale of the original lovely and humanizing creation upon which it is founded.” (Lacy 1410. Dicks 722.)
Dot, a Fairy Tale of Home. A Drama in Three Acts, from “The Cricket on the Hearth.” Dramatised by Dion Boucicault. Not published.
The Haunted Man, a Drama. Adapted from Charles Dickens’s Christmas Story. Not published.
The Chimes, a Goblin Story, of some Bells that rang an Old Year out, and a New Year in; a Drama, in Four Quarters, by Mark Lemon and Gilbert Abbott à Beckett. Adelphi Theatre, London, December 19, 1844. (Webster’s Drama 115.)
La Bataille de la Vie. Pièce en Trois Actes, par M. M. Mèlesville et André de Goy. Vaudeville Theatre, Paris, 1853.
The Battle of Life, founded on the Christmas Annual of Charles Dickens, dramatised by Albert Smith. In Three Acts and in Verse. Lyceum Theatre, London, December 21, 1846. (W. S. Johnson.)
The Battle of Life, a Drama in Three Acts, by Edward Stirling. Surrey Theatre, London. January, 1847. (Duncombe’s Theatre 456.)
Dombey and Son. In three acts. Dramatized by John Brougham, and produced at Burton’s Theatre, New York, 1850. (Dicks 375. French 126.)
Dombey and Son; or, Good Mrs. Brown, the Child Stealer. A Drama, in two acts. “From the pen of the inimitable Charles Dickens, Esq. As performed at the Royal Strand Theatre.” No date.
An impudent theft, in which many liberties are taken with Dickens’s plot. This was published whilst the novel was in progress, and is now very scarce.
Captain Cuttle; a Comic Drama, in one act. By John Brougham. Burton’s Theatre, New York, January 14, 1850. (Dicks 572.)
228 David Copperfield, a Drama in two acts. Adapted by John Brougham, and first performed at Brougham’s Lyceum, January 6, 1851. New York. (French 133. Dicks 374.)
David Copperfield, a Drama in three acts, by John Brougham. Brougham’s Lyceum Theatre, January 6, 1851. (French.)
Little Emily, a Drama in four acts. Adapted from Dickens’s “David Copperfield,” by Andrew Halliday.
Lady Dedlock’s Secret, a Drama in Four Acts. Founded on an episode in “Bleak House,” by J. Palgrave Simpson. Opera Comique Theatre, London, March 26, 1884. (French.)
“Move on,” or Jo, the Outcast, a Drama in Three Acts. Adapted by James Mortimer. Not published.
Poor Jo, a Drama in Three Acts. Adapted by Terry Hurst. Not published.
Jo, a Drama in Three Acts, by J. P. Burnett. Not published.
Bleak House; or Poor “Jo.” A Drama, in Four Acts. Adapted by George Lander. Pavilion Theatre, London, March 27, 1876. (Dicks 388.)
Hard Times. A Domestic Drama, in Three Acts, by T. Fox Cooper. Strand Theatre, London, August 14, 1854. (Dicks.)
No Thorough Fare; a Drama in Five Acts, and a Prologue. By Charles Dickens and W. Wilkie Collins. Adelphi Theatre, London, December 26, 1867, and afterwards in Paris. Printed in New York.
Identity; or, No Thoroughfare. A Drama in Four Acts. By Louis Lequel. New York. (French.)
L’Abime, drame en cinq actes. (Founded on “No Thoroughfare.”) Paris, 1868.
The Tale of Two Cities; or, the Incarcerated Victim of the Bastille. An Historical Drama, in a Prologue and four acts. Adapted by T. Fox Cooper. First performed at the Victoria Theatre, London, July 7, 1860. (Dicks.)
A Tale of Two Cities; a Drama in two acts and a Prologue. By Tom Taylor. Lyceum Theatre, London, January 30, 1860. (Lacy 661.)
The Tale of Two Cities; a Drama in three acts and a Prologue. Adapted by H. J. Rivers. London.
A Message from the Sea, a Drama in Four Acts. Founded on Charles Dickens’s tale of that name, by John Brougham. Britannia Theatre, London, 1861. (Dicks 459.)
A Message from the Sea; a Drama in Three Acts. By Charles Dickens and W. Wilkie Collins. London, 1861.
The Dead Witness; or Sin and its Shadow. A Drama in Three Acts, by Wybert Reeve, founded on “The Widow’s Story” of The Seven Poor Travellers, by C. Dickens. First produced at the Sheffield Theatre. (S. French 1472.)
Great Expectations, a Drama in Three Acts, and a Prologue. By W. S. Gilbert. Not published.
Dickens himself did not often attempt parody, but his Reports of the Meetings of the “Mudfog Association” are admirable prose burlesques of the early proceedings of the British Association. These originally appeared in “Bentley’s Miscellany,” but have recently been republished.
(For remainder of this old street ballad see p. 276 of The Life and Times of James Catnach, by Charles Hindley. London. Reeves & Turner, 1878.)
It should have been stated that the Parodies on Dickens, quoted from The World on p. 215, were written by the Rev. W. H. A. Emra, of Salisbury (“New Sarum”) and by Mr. Walter Fletcher, of Hornsey. (“Robert le Diable.”)
Amongst the parodies of Coventry Patmore which appeared on p. 194, mention should have been made of one which will be found in Mr. A. C. Swinburne’s Heptalogia, published by Chatto & Windus. It is called The Person of the House, and is in four Idyls, “The Monthly Nurse,” “The Caudle,” “The Sentences,” and “The Kid.”
When Mr. Coventry Patmore’s “Angel in the House” was first published, the Athenæum furnished the following unique criticism:—
“The gentle reader we apprise, that this new Angel in the House Contains a tale not very wise, About a person and a spouse. The author, gentle as a lamb, Has managèd his rhymes to fit, And haply fancies he has writ Another ‘In Memoriam.’ How his intended gathered flowers, And took her tea and after sung, Is told in style somewhat like ours, For delectation of the young. But, reader, lest you say we quiz The poet’s record of his she, Some little pictures you shall see, Not in our language but in his:
Fear not this saline Cousin Fred; He gives no tragic mischief birth; There are no tears for you to shed, Unless they may be tears of mirth. From ball to bed, from field to farm, The tale flows nicely purling on; With much conceit there is no harm, In the love-legend here begun. The rest will come another day, If public sympathy allows; And this is all we have to say About the ‘Angel in the House.’”
——:o:——
OXFORD COMMEMORATION.
“The Encænia,” or Commemoration of Founders and Benefactors which took place in June last, was marked by all the customary boisterous merriment on the part of the undergraduates. The ladies were cheered as usual, whilst marks of disapprobation were addressed at all persons whose attire presented any features of singularity. The Vice-Chancellor’s Latin address was inaudible on account of the interruptions, many of which were in excessively bad taste. The Proctors were loudly hissed, and called upon to retire, and as they did not attempt to do so, they were requested to sing a duet.
It is only perhaps in Oxford that such conduct on the part of educated men, presumably gentlemen, would be tolerated; as it was described (in imitation of Carlyle) fifteen years ago, so it remains:—
“What is Commemoration? Wherefore? Whereunto? Why? Is it a mere vacuous Inanition, or speck cut out of this little world, or has it not rather contrariwise some Meaning, apart from that which is wrapt up in meness and youness and every-one-else-ness, and two or three more beside?
Nay, is it not Portentous, Big with Signs, with its show Sunday, its Dances, its Encænia and what not?
Is it not a time when it is permitted to Man to wriggle out of the inextricable snares of the Fowler with his Attorney-logic, and the frothy effervescences of defunct and buried-in-dusty tomes Antiquity which are nomen-clated Lectures? And to be Oblivious of these Gehenna-Bailiffs emissaried by professors in Tailor-craft, Wine-craft, and the innumerable other crafts and mysteries ranking under the genus Productive Industry. Aye, and those gaily apparelled young ladies (Madchen) who confluctuate hither as to a Focus, or centre of Attraction, though they themselves are also an Attraction, which is an inextricable mystery of Involvedness; do not these too teach a lesson to the gawks, in whose heads is nothing but the Roots of their World restored Hair, and who imagine that the whole Furniture of that digesting mechanism, Man, is but a Lay-figure, gifted indeed, with struttableness and swagger, on which to hang their Peacock-plumes, fringes, cobwebs, and such.
And there is the Encænia too, with its Chaotic Hubbub of Tympanum-splitting Noise, Undergraduates Noise, Ticket admitted Noise, as it were a sort of Tenfold Bedlam smitten with Interjectional Rabies, of groanings and yelpings, Approbation, Depreciation, and the like.”
* * * * *
From The Shotover Papers. Oxford. 1874.
“The Irish Revolution, a history in three books.” By Thomas Snarlyle. Such is the title of a parody, to be found in The Puppet-Showman’s Album, published about 1848, which concludes with a sentence curiously appropriate to these times:—
“Ireland, Ireland, thy leaders are in jail. But be not a Rachel weeping for these children, be comforted!”
——:o:——
JOHN RUSKIN.
Let us take a small extract from his notes on Samuel Prout and William Hunt’s loan collection of pictures:—
“That little brown-red butterfly [142] … is a piece of real painting; and it is as good as Titian or anybody else ever did, and if you can enjoy it you can enjoy Titian and all other good painters; and if you can’t see anything in it you can’t see anything in them, and its all affectation and pretence to say that you care about them. And with this butterfly in the drawing I put first, please look at the mug and loaf in the one I have put last of the Hunt series, No. 171. The whole art of painting is in that mug—as the fisherman’s 230 genius was in the bottle. If you can feel how beautiful it is, how ethereal, how heathery, and heavenly, as well as to the uttermost muggy, you have an eye for colour and can enjoy heather, heaven, and everything else below and above. If not, you must enjoy what you can contentedly, but it won’t be painting; and in mugs it will be more the beer than the crockery, and on the moors rather grouse than heather.”
For those who have neglected the opportunity of testing their taste for art on this butterfly, and on this mug, I would advise a visit to Venice, to learn whether they can appreciate Bassano’s hair trunk, as shown in his grand picture of the Pope Alexander and the Doge of Venice. It is not Ruskin, but Mark Twain who thus describes it:
“The hair of this trunk is real hair, so to speak, white in patches, brown in patches. The details are finely worked out; the repose proper to hair in a recumbent and inactive condition, is charmingly expressed. There is a feeling about this part of the work, which lifts it to the highest altitudes of art; the sense of sordid realism vanishes away—one recognizes that there is soul here. View this trunk as you will, it is a gem, it is a marvel, it is a miracle. Some of the effects are very daring, approaching even to the boldest flights of the rococo, the sirocco, and the Byzantine schools. Yet the master’s hand never falters—it moves on, calm, majestic, confident; and, with that art which conceals art, it finally casts over the tout ensemble, by mysterious methods of its own, a subtle something which refines, subdues, etherealizes the arid components, and endues them with the deep charm and gracious witchery of poesy. Among the art-treasures of Europe there are pictures which approach the hair trunk—there are two which may be said to equal it, possibly—but there is none that surpasses it.”
On All Fours Clavigera;
OR, Right at Last.
It may be remembered that Professor Buskin during the Spring addressed a letter to a provincial paper, respecting the projected new railway for Derbyshire. As he therein expressed some very strong opinions against the scheme, as one likely to give the miserable, melancholy, and toiling millions who dwell in smoke-stifling and unwholesome towns, an occasional chance of letting a little bright fresh air and sunlight in upon the gloom of their darkened lives, it is satisfactory to know that the letter in question is now believed to have been a clever hoax. At any rate, the zenith of that boon to millions, the summer excursion season has produced a second communication to the same journal: and, as it not only bears the Professor’s signature, but breathes with the spirit of his larger philanthropy, there can be little doubt as to its authenticity.
In the course of this second letter, Professor Buskin says:—
“I do not know how this mental revolution has come about within me, nor, were you to ask me, could I tell you. I only recognise the stupendous fact that I feel, and am not ashamed to avow, that I no longer regard the wild witchery of the Derbyshire glens as a precious and special property held by Providence in trust for me and a few exclusive well-to-do Sybarites for our sole select and selfish delectation.
* * * * *
Here it is, this Derbyshire Garden of Eden, with its magic-lantern-slide effects, lost for ever and for ever to everyone save to you and to me and the lucky Stall-sitters who hold, out of the overflowing fulness of their purses, the front places in the world’s glittering show, to the shifting and shutting out of the humbler and poorer from the sight and sense of it.”
“Follow, if you can, without wetted feet, the floretted banks and foam-crisped wavelets of the slyly wilful stream. Into the very heart and depth of this, and politely bending with the bends of it, your railway introduces its close-clinging attention. The rocks are not big enough to be tunnelled, they are cheerily blasted away; the brook is not wide enough to be bridged, it is comfortably covered in, and is thence-forward no physical obstacle to an enterprising Railway Company. I have not said, I leave the clergyman and physician to say, what moral and sanitary changes follow a free access to the gifts of Nature. But I may, at least, advise your correspondent that envenomed air is deadlier to the young than the old, and that the sooner a completed line of railway enables the pent-up thousands of pestiferous cities to figure as three-and-sixpenny excursionists, if only for a few hours, amidst these hitherto inaccessible fairy haunts, the sooner will English children who have been reared in mephitic fume instead of mountain breeze, who have had for playground heaps of ashes instead of banks of flowers, whose Christmas holidays brought them no memory, whose Easter sun no hope, enjoy some of the blessed delight of breezy hillside and sunlit glen hitherto claimed as the special and peculiar heirloom of that unreasoning and wrong-headed class who, singing the sweet song of Nature’s praise, defame that priceless metal line which, like some mighty wizard, alone has borne their welcome echo to a myriad aching city hearts.”
Punch. August 23, 1884.
On Toothpicks.
By Professor Buskin.
I came the other day quite by chance on this piece of news in my Daily Telegraph:—“It is said that no less than 25 millions of Toothpicks are annually made in England. This is just one to each person.” “Just one?” No, there is no justice here, it is all injustice. Think of this—25 millions, and think further of the 25 millions of Englishmen who can use them. Yes, this is what England has come to be—a nation of Toothpickers; for mark this, each man can use a toothpick if he will; if he can by fair means or foul (too often, alas, by foul!) obtain the paltry coin to purchase the Tooth-pick with.
But then these dilettanti-scribblers, these writers in the newspapers who are paid for their scribbling, these folk (forsooth!) say, “what have you to do with this—this Toothpicking?” I answer we have all to do with it. For hear, yea, and forbear with me a minute while I speak to you of this same Toothpicking.
Friends, it comes to this. Picking is a natural attribute of man. He must throughout life be a picker. But now comes the momentous question, a picker of what? A picker of knowledge, a dabbler in all the ’ologies, an admirable Crichton, veriest of prigs, or a picker of locks, a red-handed burglar, a hero of penny novels, or will he be a picker of teeth, a drawling vacuity weary of himself, weary of every thing, an inane hanger on to the skirts of the Universe? Will not the brave man, the wise man, the man of resolve, of energy, of endurance, a picker of roads, will he not go forth to beautify Hincksey, to plant the new 231 Utopia, to commence the Era of Æstheticism, and of the Fors?
Now, turning his picking propensities to some real use, he will learn to do hard work, to blister his hands, to wheel barrows, to preach Buskinism.
From The Shotover Papers. Oxford, 1874.
Mr. Ruskin is a depressing pessimist, according to whom nearly everything that was done in England three centuries or so ago was lovely and true, whilst all nineteenth century progress is in the wrong direction. “I know of nothing” he writes “that has been taught the youth of our time except that their fathers were apes, and their mothers winkles; that the world began in accident, and will end in darkness; that honour is a folly, ambition a virtue, charity a vice, poverty a crime, and rascality the means of all wealth and the sum of all wisdom.” Now these sweeping assertions are false, and Mr. Ruskin knows they are false, he could not advance a tittle of proof that any professor in modern times had inculcated any such doctrines. Those who want an antidote to Mr. Ruskin’s views should read “Pre-Raffaelitism; or a Popular enquiry into some newly-asserted Principles connected with the Philosophy, Poetry, Religion and Revolution of Art” by the Rev. Edward Young, M.A. London: Longmans & Co., 1857.
Moll Marine:
(By “Weeder.”)
Moll Marine! A simple, touching name! It had been bestowed upon her by the rude country hinds among whom she dwelt. It was all she received at their hands besides blows and curses. Moll was a common name in those parts, but none knew what it meant, none discerned the hidden poetry in that brief monosyllable. Moll Marine they called her, because she came among them as a waif from the wild waves, as a white foam fleck that the winds toss on to the cold rocks to gleam a moment in the setting sun, and then dissolve for ever into the dews of night.
She was only fifteen, tall and graceful as a young poplar, with a warm brown skin and a scented wealth of amber hair. Everybody hated her. “It was natural,” she thought. They beat her, but she cared not. She was like a lucifer; they struck her, and she blazed forth resplendent; beautiful as the spotted panther of the forest, as the shapely thistle that the ass crops unheeding, as the beaming comet that shakes out her golden tresses in the soft hush of summer nights.
And she loved. Loved madly, passionately, hopelessly.
He knew it. He knew that he had but to say, “Come!” and she would follow him to disgrace or death, to polar snows or deserts arid as Gehenna. To him she was nothing. No more than the painted fly he pinned in sport, than the yellow meadow flowers that he crushed beneath his heel, than the soft tender doves whose downy necks he wrung and whose bodies he eat with cruel relish.
[We regret to say that the rest of this contribution is improper, and unfit for publication.—Ed.]
From The Light Green. Cambridge, 1872.
The World prize competition, for parodies on Ouida’s Under Two Flags, subject “The Cambridgshire Stakes.”
First Prize.
‘Seven to 5 on Leoville; 9 to 3 on Lartington; 10 to 2 on Falmouth; 13 to 4 Flotsam; 17 to 9 Exeter; the Field bar one; 22 to 8 Lord Clive; 33 to 12 Discord! Take the Field bar one; take the Field!’ yelled a burly bookmaker, as an elegant young patrician redolent of Jockey Club sauntered past him.
‘I do take it in; also the Life,’ said the noble, as he flicked some dust from his spotless boots, and then he blew his nose gracefully.
‘O, stow yer larks!’ said the other; but the next moment he repented using such language; for the apparently delicate nobleman had carelessly taken him by the seat of his trousers and thrown him over the rails, as though he had been a feather, instead of weighing at least 15 stone.
‘Curse him!’ he muttered, as he came back trying to look pleased. ‘What d’yer want to do, my lord?’ he said, with a ghastly smile.
Mentioning a horse, the haughty young aristocrat asked what he would lay against it.
‘Against it?’ said the welcher. ‘Well, it ain’t usual for us to lay against ’em; but I’ll give yer 4 to 2.’
‘Very well,’ wearily replied the marquis; ‘in half millions. I also want to back it for a lady, in gloves.’
‘Wery good, my lord; dogskin or kid?’
This of course could only be meant for insult. The peer looked at him half amused, half disgusted, and walked listlessly away.
The welcher scowled after him with bitter hatred; but just then the bell rang, and he hurried off to see the horses and jockeys weighed. When he arrived at the shed he found all ready but one, the jockey who was to ride the horse he had laid against. He was just sitting down to dinner.
‘They’re waiting for you,’ said a steward, rushing into the room.
‘Ask them to wait a little longer; I shall be ready in forty minutes,’ said the jockey, taking a spoonful of potage à la Tortue.
The steward rushed out somewhat excitedly.
‘Now’s my time,’ said the welcher, and creeping behind the light weight he gently unfastened one of his spurs, and put another in its place. He had scarcely finished when the referee came in to say that the starter would wait no longer. Quaffing a large goblet of champagne, the jockey murmured, ‘Che, sara, sara,’ and staggered out. Why did the welcher look so fiendish. He had fastened on the jockey’s boot a spur with painted rowels.
Following him out, he could just see him galloping down the course, and hear the people cheer as their favourite went by in his crimson jacket, with scarlet sash, green hoops, pink sleeves, and yellow cap. Before he could get to the starting-box the horses were off; but disdaining to join them in the middle of the race, and wishing also to exchange a few compliments with the starter, he rode up to him, and after relieving his mind, dashed after the others. By the time he got to the ‘Corner’ he was only two furlongs behind; at the distance a hundred yards; at the Red House fifty; and as they passed the Stand he was but a length from the leaders. He touched his gallant steed with the spur for a final effort; but instead of leaving the others behind as usual, it staggered, stopped, and went to sleep. The laudanum had done its work. Just then his rider heard a great shout, and looking up saw thousands of arms carrying the victorious jockey back to the scales. La Merveille had won the Cambridgeshire.
Oracle. (E. E. D. Davis.)
232Second Prize.
‘Four to none against Hartington!’ ‘8 to none against Sarserperiller!’ ‘25 to none against Stylites!’ (pronounced by the ‘welchers’ as a dissyllable, like Skylights). ‘20 to none against Lar Mervilly!’ (La Merveille). ‘2 to none bar none!’ These and a hundred other cries rose high above the roar of the Ring on the bright October afternoon that shone for the nonce over the wide windy fens and sandy loams of Cambridgeshire and Suffolk on the day of the last great scrambling handicap of the year.
Maunderers muttering to their moustaches, layers, takers, ‘ossy’ cards, tiptop swells, who had ‘put the pot on’ to any extent, ladies of rank and ladies of pleasure (the latter in sealskin and velvet, and gracefully puffing the daintiest of papilitos)—all, with an instinct of stupidity, came down eager for a ‘go in’ on the scratching Cambridgeshire.
The bell was throbbing and sobbing spasmodically; and, as that cynosure of all eyes, Hartington, whose magnificently-desiccated veins bulged out black as the bloody cords of an injected ‘subject,’ strode grandly forth, a roar, deep as the voice of forests or the moan of the sea, went suddenly up—‘the crack!’
La Merveille, the blue filly, whose neck had the Arch of Marble, was a thick, short, long-barrelled horse, with superb Watteau eyes, and an I’ll-take-the-conceit-out-of-a good-many-of-you-if-I-choose-looking head. She belonged to the Lord of the Durdans, Earl Elderberry, whose colours were Hebrew lily inclining to Primrose.
See! Twice ten thousand starters are hoisted in admirable time; the competitors muster at the post, and the coup d’œil, as they glimmer and shimmer there in the sunlight, is as that of an early Turner sunset gone ineffably mad.
Three breaks; the flag falls; a glorious start, and away they go like no end of a line of eager harlequins before their creditors. ‘Off!’ and Out of Pounds, after taking up the running, ‘compounded;’ Adamite fell; Sunburn cooled down; Caxtonian ‘pressed’ onward; Fitz-Pluto ‘warmed’ to his work. ‘Now!’ Blood lashes to fury. The Ring roars—‘It’s a skinner!’ And Breadloser, Lord Strive, Hartington, and Lar Mervilly dash like fiends through the cold, fresh, wild winter wind, blowing as it might have done in Stuart times, when Mistress Nell Gwynn, the fat King’s ‘fancy,’ was here to inhale it.
Hark! ‘The foremost wins!’ ‘Rob Boy’s a “teaser”!’ ‘Mervilly’s lost!’ ‘Flash Man’s a brilliant failure!’
Lost? A palpitating lie!
’Send me a cropper!’ exclaimed Constable, a ‘clipping’ jock who had landed many a mount. ‘Send me a cropper, if you like, but “plant” me a winner!’
The blue filly answered with lightning spontaneity. Game to the last, Constable, a great Pickwick in his mouth, coaxed a final effort out of her. The delirium of pace was upon him. ‘Go in a perisher!’
On came the trio—on, until one last convulsive impulse of the outstretched limbs, and—hark! The cry has changed. ‘Mervilly wins!’
A thousand jewelled hands hold forth bouquets of hissing eau de Cologne. And Constable, true to the canons of his Order, ‘runs her in.’
A cry as of the disappointed, the desperate, or the d—d, went out over the ghastly fens; seemed to reel from many a gallant ‘plunger’ in anticipation of an approaching ‘weigh-in.’ Next to first was Second; Better Last than Never, whose dominant instinct it was to lose, third.
There was much wisdom after the event. Two minutes eight seconds! A man on a bicycle might have done it in less time!
Cyril. (James Silvester.)
The World November 12, 1879.
A parody of Ouida’s Ariadne was published in The Weekly Dispatch parody competition, September 13, 1885, but owing to the enforced brevity of the compositions, this one consisted of little more than a catalogue of names and facts, without any fun, or humour.
Of course Mr. F. C. Burnand wrote a parody on “Ouida,” it appeared in Punch in 1878, and was entitled “Strapmore! A Romance by Weeder, author of Folly and Farini, Under Two Rags, Arryadn’ty, Chuck, Two Little Wooden Jews, Nicotine, A Horse with Glanders, In Somers Town, Shamdross, &c., &c.” This wild weird story of blood and crime was republished in book form by Bradbury, Agnew & Co.
Judy also published a parody, entitled “Bluebottles. A Novel of Queer Society” Idylised à la Ouida. This was commenced July 7, 1880.
——:o:——
The following very happy burlesque of the nautical tales in the style of Captain Marryat and Captain Chamier, was written in 1842 by the late Professor W. E. Aytoun, who, in conjunction with Sir Theodore Martin, wrote the Bon Gaultier Ballads.
The Flying Dutchman.
A Tale of the Sea.
We were in the midst of the storm-tossed Atlantic. A heavy simoom, blowing N.E. by S., brought in the huge tropical billows mast-high from the Gulf of Labrador, and awoke old ocean, roaring in its fury, from its unfathomable depths. No moon was visible among the hurricane rack of the sky—even the pole-star, sole magnet of the mariner’s path, was buried in the murky obscurity of the tempest; nor was it possible to see which way the ship was steering, except by the long track of livid flames which followed in the wake of the bow, or when, at times, some huge leviathan leapt up from the water beside us, and descending with the vehemence of a rock hurled from heaven, drove up a shower of aquatic splinters, like a burst of liquid lava from the sea. All the sails which usually decorated the majestic masts of H.M.S. Syncope (a real seventy-nine of the old Trafalgar build, teak-built and copper fastened) were reefed tightly up, with the exception of the mainsail, the spritsail, the mizzen-boom sail, and a few others of minor consequence. Everything was cleared away—halyards, hencoop, and binnacle had been taken down below, to prevent accidents; and the whole of the crew, along with the marines and boarders, piped to their hammocks. No one remained upon deck except the steersman, as usual lashed to the helm; Josh Junk, the first bos’un; and the author of this narrative, who was then a midshipman on board the vessel, commanded by his uncle, Commodore Sir Peregrine Pendant.
“Skewer my timbers!” exclaimed Mr. Junk, staggering from one side of the deck to the other as an enormous wave struck us on the leeside, and very nearly unshipped the capstan—“Skewer my timbers, if this a’n’t enough to put an admiral’s pipe out! Why, Master Tom, d’ye see, it’s growing altogether more and more darkerer; and if it a’n’t clearer by twelve bells, we’ll be obligated to drop anchor, which a’n’t by no means so pleasant, with a heavy swell like this, running at nineteen knots an hour in the middle of the wide Atlantic. How’s her head, boy?”
“North by south it is, sir,” replied the steersman.
“Keep her seven points more to the west, you lubber! Always get an offing when there’s a wet sheet and a flowing sea. That’s right, Jem! Hold her hard abaft, and she’ll go slick before the wind, like a hot knife through a pound of 233 butter. Halloo, Master Tom, are you holding on by the seat-railings already—you a’n’t sick, are you? Shall I tell the steward to fetch a basin?”
“No, no, Josh,” I replied, “’tis nothing—merely a temporary qualm. But tell me—do you really apprehend any danger? If so, would it not be prudent to call up the commodore, and hang out the dead-lights?”
“Why, Master Tom,” replied the bos’un, turning his quid, “them ere’s kevestions as I can’t answer. ’Cos, first—there’s no knowing what danger is till it comes; secondly, it’s as much as my place is worth to disturb old Fire-and-Faggots—axing your pardon for the liberty—afore he’s finished his grog with the mates below; and, thirdly, it’s no use hanging out the dead-lights, ’cos we’re entirely out of oil.”
“Gracious heavens!” cried I, “and suppose any other ship should be in the same latitude?”
“Then,” said the bos’un with all imaginable coolness, “I reckon it would be a case of bump. Oak varsus teak, as the law-wers say, and Davy Jones take the weakest.—But hitch my trousers! what’s that?”
As the non-commissioned officer spoke, a bright flash was seen to the seaward immediately ahead of our vessel. It was too bright, too intense to proceed from any meteoric phenomena, such as sometimes are witnessed in those tropical climate, and the sullen report which immediately followed, indicated too clearly that it proceeded from some vessel in the vicinity.
“A first-rater, by jingo!” said Mr. Junk, “and in distress. Hold my telescope, Master Tom, till I go below and turn out the watch,”——but that instant his course was arrested.
Scarce a second had elapsed after the sound of the discharge reverberated through our rigging, when, only a hawser’s distance from our bowsprit, a phosphoric light seemed to rise from the bosom of the shadowy deep. It hung upon the hull, the binnacle, the masts, the yards of a prodigious ship, pierced apparently for three tier of guns, which, with every sail set, bore down direct upon us. One moment more and collision was inevitable; but Junk, with prodigious presence of mind, sprang to the helm, snatched the wheel from the hands of the petrified steersman, and luffed with almost supernatural force. Like a well-trained courser who obeys the rein, our noble ship instantly yielded to the impulse, and bore up a-lee, whilst the stranger came hissing up, and shot past us so close that I could distinctly mark each lineament of the pale countenances of the crew as they stood clustered upon the rigging, and even read—so powerful was that strange, mysterious light—the words painted within her sides,—“Those who go abaft the binnacle pay Cabin fare!” On, on she drove—a lambent coruscation, cleaving the black billows of the Atlantic main, about to vanish amidst the deep darkness of the night.
“That was a near shave, anyhow,” said Mr. Junk, relinquishing the wheel, “but we must know something more of that saucy clipper,” and catching up a speaking trumpet, he hailed,—
“Ship ahoy!”
“Ship yourself!” was the response.
“What’s your name?”
“What’s yours!”
“Syncope—Britannic Majesty’s seventy-nine—for Trinidad.”
“Yung Fraw—merchant ship, for Rotterdam.”
“What cargo?”
“Soap!” was the reply. “How are YOU off for it? Ha! ha! ha!”
A peal of diabolic laughter rolled across the deep, mingled with the rushing of the waves and the whistling of the winds. Another flash—another report—and the meteor light sunk as noiselessly as it had arisen into the bosom of the watery surge. At that moment the moon burst out from behind a cloud, clear and queenlike, illuminating the ocean for miles. We rushed to the stern and looked back. In vain! no vestige of a ship was there—we were alone upon the warring waters!
“By the Lord Harry!” said the bos’un, dropping the trumpet—“as sure as my name’s Josh Junk, that ’ere was the Flying Dutchman!” - - - - -
That night we were SWAMPED AT SEA!
——:o:——
OUR NEW ACTORS.
Three imitations of Charles Lamb’s essay on “Some of our Old Actors” were published in a Parody Competition in The World, October, 15, 1879. The first prize was awarded to the following:—
Taking up a to-days Standard—I know not by what freak of fancy I came to purchase one—I glanced at a few of the theatrical advertisements, which occupy no inconsiderable space in its columns. One of these presented the cast of parts in the Iron Chest at the Lyceum Theatre—Sir Edward Mortimer, by Henry Irving. What an ambitious sound it has! How clearly it brings before me the comely sad face—thoughtful and therefore sad—and the almost painfully-intense manner of the modern actor!
Of all the ‘Sir Edwards’ who have flourished in my time—a dismal phrase if taken aright, reader—that mad genius, the great little man with the fine Italian face and flashing eyes, Edmund Kean, is the most unforgetable. That of Irving comes next. He, since Kean, most fully realises the author’s idea of the style of man best suited to fill the part—‘a man of sable hue, and one in whose soul there’s something o’er which his melancholy sits and broods.’ But the secret of Irving’s success lies in his fine annihilation of self—a rare quality among players—combined with an originality which triumphs over tradition. There is a marked naturalness about his acting of this character, bottomed on enthusiasm. Like genius, he seems at times to have the power of kindling his own fire into any degree of intensity.
Kean, of whom Mrs. Siddons said, ‘There is too little of him to do anything;’ but of whom his landlady said, ‘There is something about Mr. Kean, ma’am, that tells me he will be a great man;’ Kean, whose exclamation, ‘My God, if I should succeed now, I think it will drive me mad!’ was prophetic, and who, when successful, cried, ‘D— Lord Essex, Mary; the pit rose at me!’—Kean tore the passion of the play to tatters.
Irving’s recenter style does not go to work so grossly. Seemingly convinced of the facts that whatever is done for effect will be seen to be done for effect, and that Nature for ever puts a premium on reality, he interests, as all may, by being persistently and intensely human. There is a consonancy, so to speak, which the green probationer in tragedy spoils by failing to exercise that repression which is an index of power.
In Hamlet, Mathias, in the remorseful rant of Eugene Aram, and the rest, Irving has proved himself histrionic to a degree that will always command intelligent recognition.
All have seen Sothern! What a Dundreary the world has in him! What witty conceits that pleasant creature has to trifle an hour or two away!—he whose ineffable fooling, if done by another, would partake of the essentially ludicrous. Then there is my beloved Toole, whose quirks never left a sting, who drolls inimitably, and whose quality is so irresistible 234 that like a sunbeam, he exists but to cheer—a touching function, reader. My beloved Toole is, in his walk, in no way inferior.
Shakespeare foresaw the existence of Miss Ellen Terry when he created Portia, as Sir Walter might that of Miss Neilson when he spake in Kenilworth.
There are who say that Barry Sullivan is the leading legitimate actor of the British stage—a big distinction, which few will, perhaps, be disposed to deny him. But the difference between Sullivan and Irving is, I take it, this: Sullivan has the toga virilis, and the old and obvious canons of his art; Irving is an actor less by tradition than instinct. Sullivan’s rich baritone, with its harmonious and not-without-skill-delivered periods, stirs the whole house like the sound of a trumpet: Irving’s shriller pipe is fuller of Nature’s own rhetoric for a finer few. Sullivan may fill the theatre; Irving may find an empty seat or two in the gallery.
Cyril. (James Silvester.)
The Quarterly Review, for April 1868, contained a review of Lady Trevelyan’s edition of the works of Lord Macaulay, in which the following passage was quoted as a specimen of his style:—
“The misgovernment of Charles and James, gross as it had been, had not prevented the common business of life from going steadily and prosperously on. While the honour and independence of the State were sold to a foreign Power, while chartered rights were invaded, while fundamental laws were violated, hundreds of thousands of quiet, honest, and industrious families laboured and traded, ate their meals and lay down to rest, in comfort and security. Whether Whig or Tories, Protestants or Jesuits were uppermost, the grazier drove his beasts to market; the grocer weighed out his currants; the draper measured out his broadcloth; the hum of buyers and sellers was as loud as ever in the towns; the harvest-home was celebrated as joyously as ever in the hamlets; the cream overflowed the pails of Cheshire; the apple juice foamed in the presses of Herefordshire; the piles of crockery glowed in the furnaces of the Trent; and the barrows of coal rolled fast along the timber railways of the Tyne.”—(Vol. iv. p. 189.)
There is no reason why this rhetorical diarrhœa should ever stop so long as there was a trade, calling, or occupation to be particularised: the pith of the proposition (which required no proof) being contained in the first sentence. Why not continue thus:—
“The apothecary vended his drugs as usual; the poulterer crammed his turkeys; the fishmonger skinned his eels: the wine-merchant adulterated his port; as many hot-cross buns as ever were eaten on Good Friday, as many pancakes on Shrove Tuesday, as many Christmas-pies on Christmas-day; on area steps the domestic drudge took in her daily pennyworth of the chalky mixture which Londoners call milk; through area bars the feline tribe, vigilant as ever, watched the arrival of the cats’-meat man; the painted courtesan flaunted in the Haymarket; the cabs rattled through the Strand; and from the suburban regions of Fulham and Putney the cart of the market-gardener wended its slow and midnight way along Piccadilly to deposit its load of cabbages and turnips in Covent Garden.”
——:o:——
A Page by Macaulay.
(From the History of the Beadleship of Brown.)
When Brown grasped the staff of office, he was in need of the staff of life. Raised at once from want to wealth, from obscurity to renown, from the practice of submission to the habit of command, he did his work sternly; but not too sternly to do it well. The unexpectedly chosen Beadle became a correspondingly energetic Beadle. The new broom swept clean. A week had not passed ere abuses were remedied—the indolence of one portion of the parish officers pricked into action—the disaffection of another crushed into obedience. A benevolent despotism is the best form of government—Brown was despotic, benevolent, and a Beadle.
Let us review the state of affairs as they existed when he first assumed the cocked hat of office as Beadle of St. Tomkins. Apple-women usurped the pavement. Piemen obstructed the roadway. Professed beggars demanded alms at every door—impostors exhibited artificial sores at every corner. What the parish of St. Giles is to the parish of St. James, the parish of St. Tomkins was to the parish of St. Giles. Nuisances of another nature throve also and waxed great from day to day. The pew opener grumbled; the turncock muttered to himself; the churchwardens squabbled, and the rate-payers complained. There was murmured disaffection in the vestry—open revolt amongst the charity boys. It was a time of mutual recrimination—of mutual dissatisfaction. Jones abused Smith, Smith retorted upon Jones. Robinson hated Thomson, Thomson repaid the compliment with interest to Robinson. There was an unruly license of tongue, a general saturnalia of speech. Whispered scandals grew into outspoken charges, and the malicious reports hatched from the tea and muffins of old maidish parties were repeated with envenomed aggravations over the port and sherry of parish dinners. Then it was that short weights were publicly attributed to Smith, and a false steelyard confidently asserted to belong to Jones. Johnson, heated with gin, said that Jackson beat his wife—Jackson, inflamed with rum, said that Mrs. Johnson beat her husband. Charges, counter-charges, insinuations, inuendos, ran riot. No man looked with complacency on his neighbour; no husband looked with confidence upon his wife; no wife looked with respect upon her husband. As yet the band of Reformers who were shortly to arise was unheard of. Thomas Styles was but sixteen; John Nookes but thirteen-and-a-half. The pen of the great Smythe Smithers was yet employed upon half text. No word indicating his future destiny had fallen from Tomkin’s lips—Gubbins had not yet been born—Snooks was in long clothes—and Trother yet unemancipated from parish leathers.
On Brown then it alone devolved to grapple with the task. He was the dauntless pioneer of a dauntless army, a champion destined to show the world that the glitter of a Beadle’s staff may outshine the splendours of a Marichall’s baton, if it did not dim the magnificence of a Monarch’s sceptre.
From The Man in the Moon, edited by Angus B. Reach. February, 1849.
——:o:——
(From what we “Macaulay” History of our own.)
The King had been thrown from his horse at Hampton Court, and was dead. Great were the rejoicings in Paris and Rome on receipt of the tidings, and the hopes of the Jacobite party rose; however, the accession of the second daughter of the last Stuart monarch to the throne as Anna Regina once more clouded their prospects. Her Court, adorned by Marlborough (who did not sell his pictures), Bolingbroke and Swift, would have been as nothing without the genius of one whose name does not figure in the accepted histories of that reign, but whose influence at Court not even the imperious Sarah Jennings, nor her rival, Lady Masham, nor any of the Whigs or Tories of that distracted period, could afford to ignore. A peaceful citizen, whose Hair Preparations gave that graceful brilliancy and tone to the brown hair of the Sovereign, and whose marvellously manufactured Wigs adorned the heads of the noblest in the land, was not one to be lightly passed by, and thus it was Professor Browne was the ruling spirit at the Court of Queen Anne. No Wigs could equal his in form, graceful folds, and luxuriant masses of hair; they covered the heads of the wisest and best in the land, so that it was no wonder the Professor, who had long studied the heads of the people, was universally consulted on all matters of such vital importance. Unfortunately, however, Prince Eugene of Savoy, who at this time came over on a secret mission from the Emperor to the Queen, foolishly declined to pay a visit to Fenchurch Street, and procured from some opposition hairdresser a short campaigning Wig in which to appear at Court. The same evening, the Prince, smoking his cigar at his hotel, happened to be trying on this new head gear when the Hanoverian Minister, Baron Hoffman, called, and seeing that neither in style, make, nor effect was it equal to Browne’s, endeavoured to induce the Prince, but in vain, to discard it and patronize F. B. Bye and bye Bolingbroke, who had a secret partiality for the Jacobites, and mistrusted the Prince’s mission, arrived, and affected such admiration for the periwig that the Prince actually did wear it the next day in the throne-room, to the horror of the Lord Chamberlain and Gentlemen Ushers, while the crafty Bolingbroke took care himself to appear in one of Browne’s most artistic and luxuriant head-coverings that could possibly be procured; the result being a perfect triumph for the Professor. The Queen expressed high disapproval of the Prince’s Wig, whose mission thereby failed, and once again the hopes of the Jacobites fluttered. At length the wily Bolingbroke was dismissed from Office, and Her Majesty, who had secured the succession to the Crown of the son of her cousin Sophia, ordered that Professor Browne, should henceforth be appointed Wig Maker in ordinary to the British Public.
From Professor Browne’s Almanack, 1885.
——:o:——
The Next Armada.
A Brief Chapter from the History of Macaulay Junior.
* * * * *
In the City the agitation was fearful. None could doubt that the decisive crisis was approaching. It was known, from the second edition of the Times, that the joint Armada, carrying everything before it, was continuing its victorious progress up the Channel. Plymouth had fallen without firing a shot. Portsmouth had speedily followed suit. The former had found itself, at the eleventh hour, unprovided with a single gun. The latter, at the crucial moment, discovered that it was still waiting the arrival of its ammunition. When these facts, mysteriously whispered at first with bated breath, became, later in the day, authenticated by the appearance of succeeding editions of the morning papers, the public excitement knew no bounds. A hideous panic seized the Stock Exchange. “Goschens” went down to sixty at a single leap. Five well-known Stockbrokers went off their heads, and were removed in cabs by the police in violent hysterics. The Lord Mayor appeared on the steps of the Mansion House, and endeavoured to quell the riot. He was at once recognised by the mob, and pelted with Pass-Books.
But things assumed a most threatening aspect at the Admiralty. A vast multitude had assembled at Whitehall, and rendered Parliament Street impassable. There was an angry howl at the “Board.” The Police took the precautionary measure of closing the gates. The First Lord appeared inside the enclosure, and his presence was the signal for an ominous roar. He was deathly pale and trembling, but he managed to scramble up the balustrade, and gazed feebly down on the raving thousands below. He was understood to say that when next Parliament met it would be asked to appoint another Committee to inquire into the naval administration of the country. His speech was cut short by execrations, and he hastily withdrew. Ten minutes later it was understood that he had escaped by the back way over the palings into the Park, and was hiding himself from the fury of the mob in an unfrequented slum in Pimlico.
But while these events were transpiring in the Metropolis of the Empire, still graver issues were being arrived at on that “silver streak,” which, up to now, had popularly, but erroneously, been regarded as its sure defence. What had been left of the British Channel Fleet after its first disastrous encounter with the joint Armada off the Lizard had rallied, and was now awaiting the attack of the again on-pressing and advancing enemy, in what promised to be a decisive encounter for the possession of the Mouth of the Thames, in the immediate neighbourhood of Herne Bay. The Admiral, in his hasty retreat, had collected about the shattered remnant of his forces some auxiliary adjuncts. He had been joined by Her Majesty’s ironclads, Styx and Megatherium, and by the belted cruiser, Daffodil; but owing to the fact that these vessels, not possessing any guns, had had to put to sea without their armaments, the recent arrivals could scarcely be counted on by him as an addition to his fighting power in any pending action. Nor was he sure of his own ship. Her Majesty’s ironclad Blunderer, which carried his flag, was armed with four of the famous 43-ton Collingwood exploding guns, and though hard pressed in the recent engagement, he had not thought it wise to give the order to “fire.”
Such was the position of the British Admiral at the commencement of that fatal afternoon which saw the last blow struck for the preservation of the Empire. The fight commenced by a general attack of the enemy. But it did not last long. In a very few minutes seven of the British ironclads, including that of the Admiral, were blown up by the explosion of their own guns. The rest found that they were supplied with the wrong-sized ammunition, and were rapidly put hors de combat. Within a quarter of an hour of the firing of the first shot the action was over, and the last remnant of the British Fleet had practically disappeared. That evening the advance despatch boats of the joint Armada anchored off Gravesend, and 120,000 men were landed on the Kentish coast between Margate and Whitstable.
236 When the news of the disaster appeared in the evening papers, the panic, which had been gathering strength as the day progressed, culminated in fever-heat. Everybody was in the streets asking, with staring eyeballs, for the latest news.
Gradually it became known that 75,000 of the enemy were advancing on the capital by way of Aldershot, and that the General in command at the camp, who had 1,371 men of all arms under him, all told, had received orders to oppose them, and this announcement seemed to restore in some measure the public confidence.
Meanwhile a quite phenomenal activity prevailed at the War Office, and the horses of the General Omnibus Company were at once requisitioned for the service of the Royal Artillery. The Duke of Cambridge, on hearing of the catastrophe, had applied to the Authorities instantly for the 11,000 men he had recently insisted on. With that force, he said, even at the eleventh hour, he would guarantee the safety of the country. Mr. Whitely forthwith undertook to furnish them within twenty-four hours. His offer was accepted with enthusiasm. It was known too that Lord Wolseley had already started with a miscellaneous force of Volunteers, Guards, and Policemen, hurriedly collected, for Sydenham, with the intention of taking up a defensive position among the antideluvian animals, and there waiting the course of events.
The Authorities were fairly on their mettle. They instantly supplied three Volunteer regiments with rifles of an obsolete and antiquated pattern. Nor was this all. They telegraphed to Woolwich to expedite the selection of a model for the new magazine rifle, and marked their communication “urgent.” Matters, meanwhile, at headquarters were not less vigorously pushed forward. Inquiries were made for Mr. Stanhope’s plan of “defending the Thames.” Every pigeon-hole was examined, but it could not be found. Still, the Department did not despair. They despatched a third-class War Office clerk to Greenwich to report on the situation and say what he thought of it.
When, however, it transpired the next morning that, spite all the efforts to stay their advance, 50,000 of the enemy had taken possession of the Bank of England, seized the Lord Mayor and Aldermen as hostages, and were prepared to treat with the Government, with a view to evacuation, on the cession of Margate, Canada, India, Gibraltar, Malta, Australia, and Madame Tussaud’s Wax-work Collection, together with a preliminary payment of fifteen milliards. Englishmen began soberly to recognise that what they had so long regarded as an impossible vision had really come about, and that the “Next Armada” was an unhappily accomplished fact.
Punch. May 19, 1888.
——:o:——
The Age of Lawn-Tennis.
(After Macaulay’s “History of England”) 1880-81.
CHAPTER LV.
“But while these stirring events were passing in the East, the mind of England was turned into a very different channel. No faithful historian could pass over this period without touching upon a pastime which was now taking a remarkable hold upon the nation, and pervading with its influence the upper and middle classes of British society.
“Rackets, and the old French game of Tennis, had long been popular with the English youth; but by those who had left the public schools and universities they were generally unattainable. It was left for Major Wingfield, the scion of a Shropshire family, to bring home, I may almost say to every door, a game which, little inferior to the classic games which I have just mentioned, was open, without the paraphernalia of a costly court, to every one at least who possessed a moderate-sized and level lawn. Lawn-Tennis was now rapidly elbowing out Archery, a thoroughly English and deep-rooted institution, and Croquet, its younger sister. Cricket was losing many of its most earnest devotees. In some parts of England there was an almost daily rendezvous at one or other of the great houses of the neighbourhood for the new and popular pastime. In country circles, tournaments were rousing the keenest excitement. Society was being differentiated into the good players and the bad. Crowds flocked annually to Wimbledon to watch the great match for the Championship of the world, to which a silver goblet had been added by The Country Gentleman’s Newspaper. Masters of hounds deferred cub-hunting that the Lawn Tennis season might be still further prolonged. A game of Lawn-Tennis was not unfrequently the innocent finish of the Ruridecanal meetings of the clergy. “Will he make a fourth?” was the first question to be asked about the new curate in many a country parish. All-popular among the public schools was Harrow-on-the-Hill, which had now furnished the Lawn-Tennis Champion for four consecutive years. Politics were laid aside in the public press while the rules of the game were discussed. On one side were ranged the net-volleyers: on the other those who thought that net-volleying spoilt all the beauty and elegance of the game. Never, by this latter party, since the time of Guy Fawkes, had man been so intensely hated as he who, standing close to the net with uplifted racket, stifled stroke after stroke as they came to meet him. We shall not enter very fully into the merits of this controversy; to do so would be dull, and possibly, to future generations, unintelligible. It is sufficient to say that while the skilled players defied “the man at the net” to do his worst, another and a larger party, looking, be it supposed, to the greatest happiness of the greatest number, was clamouring for such Lawn-Tennis legislation as would degrade the game to the capabilities of mediocrity, and drive the odious net-player from the courts. So numerous were the grades of dexterity that a leader in the Tennis world, and an author of some repute, had formulated a handicap table by which players of as many degrees as the letters of the alphabet might be brought together on even terms; while Henry Jones, the “Cavendish” of the whist-table, and other mathematicians, had worked out to several places of decimals the advantages of service. * * * * Such was the state of things which was distracting the mind of England while the fleets of Europe patrolled the Mediterranean, and peace and war were trembling in the balance.”
From Tennis Cuts and Quips. Edited by Julian Marshall. London, Field and Tuer.
There are numerous other imitations of Lord Macaulay’s prose writings. One, written by the late Dean Hook, is to be found in his “Life and Letters” by W. R. W. Stephens (vol ii., p. 476), it relates only to ecclesiastical affairs.
Another, entitled The Story of Johnnie Armstrong, the Scotch outlaw, appeared in the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle, September 22, 1888. It was a prize composition of considerable merit, written by Mr. J. T. Milne, but it is unfortunately too long to be here inserted.
Mrs. Brown at Cambridge.
By Arthur Sketchey.
Of all the railroads as I ever came across that Great’rn is out and out the worst, thro’ bein’ that tejus slow and the carridges a mask of dirt as you might grow cabbidges on, as the sayin’ is, and took all the freshness out of my light blue pollynaise, as I’d thought the kerrect thing at Cambridge, thro’ Mrs. Burgess a-wearin’ the same at the Boat-race, and some young Cambridge gents a-sayin’ “Mum, you’ve ’it the right colour this time and no mistake,” as pleased ’er no end, tho’ all the time larfin’ at ’er, I’ve no doubt, thro’ bein’ a orkard figger from a child and not one to look well in a Joseph’s coat of many colours, as the sayin’ is.
’Ow ever I met Mrs. Vagg on that everlastin’ endless platform I don’t know, but I says to ’er, “a pint of four ale I must ’ave,” as I saw a refreshmint bar ’andy, but of all the stuck-up trollopin’ things that barmaid was the most orful, as ’ad dressed ’er ’air within a hinch of ’er life, as the sayin’ is, in four false plaits, and three young men a-hoglin’ of ’er across the slab, as might ’ave known better, and took cheek from that gal, as I’d ’ave paid ’er back, and let ’er know ’er place.
I never wish to swaller a better cup of tea than Mrs. Vagg gave me that evenin’ thro’ ’er bein’ a Bed-maker and in course tea a perkisite, and is only fair with ’er maid-of-all-work to seven gentlemen and board and lodge ’erself, not but what ’er house wasn’t very nice, as bein’ in Regint Street with Wictor Emmanivel’s Collidge opposight, for all the world like Clerkenwell jail, with bars to the winders and all, mayhap thro’ fear of burglars a-breakin’ in, and a-carryin’ off the Uniwersity chest, as I’m told would only be poor pickins, and not worth the trouble.
Whether it was that cup of tea, or whether it was talkin’ over old times with Mrs. Vagg, as ’ad been in service with me as a gal, but nine o’clock struck and took me all of a ’eap, thro’ ’avin’ promised Brown as I’d send ’im a ’a-penny card just to say I was all right. So I says “What time do the Post go out?”
“Ten o’clock,” says she, “but you’re never goin’ out there to-night, and a Town and Gown row on too, as is what no decent woman would face.”
“Beggin’ your parding, mum,” says I, “their aint no Town nor Gown neither as shall stand in the way of my duty to my lawful ’usband.”
So seen’ I was in earnest, she ’eld ’er tongue, and ’elped me on with my shawl, and says “Turn to the left and foller your nose, and that’ll bring you straight to the Post Office.”
Well up the hairy steps I went, thro’ ’er a-occypying the ground floor, and a-lettin’ the first, and the very first thing as I sees were a roamin’ candle goin’ off on Parky Peace as they call it, tho’ a poorish Park to me as knows Grinnidge, and as for Peace, it’s a-callin’ peace where there’s no peace, thro’ bein’ a mask of folk all a-’ustling and a-jeerin’, and a-lettin’ off fireworks, as is things I don’t ’old with, thro’ John Biggen as was my first cousin on the mother’s side bein’ blinded with a rocket at Vaux ’all, as were a piece of luck for Mrs. Biggin, as no one would ’ave married with ’is eyes open thro’ ’er face bein’ a puffect cullender from the smallpox.
What the rumpus was all about I don’t know, but the streets was full of young men as would ’ave been better in their beds, some on ’em a-walkin’ two and two and a-smokin’ pipes, and some jinin’ arms, and marchin’ up the streets singin’ for all the world like as if they was tipsy, and the pavemint that narrer as I was shoved off the kerb, and into a gutter, as was a foot deep and wetted me up to my knees, and clean spilte a new petticut, as such things should’nt be allowed in the public streets,—and where’s their Board of ’Ealth?
There was two young fellers a-walkin’ be’ind me, and says one, a-larfin’, and a-pintin’, “That’s a good make up,” meanin’ me, as turned round sharp on ’im, and told ’im to mind ’is own business and not talk about makin’ up to me as were old enough to be ’is mother, let alone ’avin’ twice ’is wits, as were not much better than a fool, and looked only three days in the week, as the sayin’ is. But law bless you, my lord only larfed, and just then I saw a great rampagious mob a-tearin’ up the street as looked the scum of the earth, and gave me that turn as I thought swound away I must, and ketched ’old of ’is arm, and says, “’Elp a lady in distress, and conduc me past them willains.”
Says he, a-takin’ off ’is ’at quite perlite, “With pleasure, mum,” and off he walked with me a-’angin’ on to ’is arm, and my ’eart a-thumpin’ with pannikin’ fear as might ’ave been ’eard ’arf a mile away.
Well I was just a-slippin’ my ’a-penny card into the Post, when up comes an elderly gent a-stridin’ along and a-lookin’ very big, with a gownd a-trailin’ in the mud, and the banns of marridge round ’is neck for all the world like a parson, as no doubt was, and says to the young gent, “Which I must trouble you for six and eightpence for not a-wearin’ of your hacademic dress,” and pulls out a sort of bettin’-book for to enter ’is name and Collidge.
Says the young gent, quite cool and brazen-like, “Excuse me, sir, but I was a-escortin’ of my mother ’ome, and didn’t put on my gownd for fear of the cads.”
This put my blood up, as never could abear anything deceitful or under’and, and I lets go of ’im, and says, “You hartful young ’ypocrate, and me never ’avin’ set my eyes on you before this evenin’, as must ’ave took ’im aback like and serve ’im right, but he didn’t wait for no more, but ran off like a harrer from a bow, as the sayin’ is, and the old chap sets a long legged feller to run after ’im, as I ’ope didn’t ketch ’im, thro’ bein’ a kind-’earted young man spite of ’is owdacious fibbin’.”
By this time there was a reglar Punch and Judy crowd round us, but I grabbed tight on to my umbreller, and thinks I “’it me any of you who dare,” when the elderly gent says, “If so be as you’re a decent woman, you’ll go ’ome.”
Says I, “who says as Martha Brown aint a decent woman, you old waggerbone! I aint a goin’ to stand ’ere to be hinsulted,” and was bouncin’ off feelin’ quite ’urt like, and the crowd a cheerin’ and a sayin’, “Go it, old Fatchops,” when if that old fool didn’t take and say as it were ’is duty to see me ’ome.
Says I, “Thank you for nothin’, as would prefer you did no such thing, thro’ me not bein known ’ere and people might make remarks,” but, law bless you, words wasn’t no good with ’im, as walked along side of me all the way with the crowd a-follerin’ and a-hollerin’ and a-pokin’ their fun at ’im and me.
Right glad I was to stand on Mrs. Vagg’s door-step, and fainted clean away as soon as hever I got down to the kitchen, and you don’t ketch me a-goin’ down that street after dark again, and, tho’ boys will be boys, yet I don’t ’old with all their squibbin’ and fibbin’, nor yet with helderly gents as is paid to hinsult respectable fieldmales, as I wish my ’usband ’ad been there, as would ’ave broke hevery bone in ’is skin and serve ’im right.
From The Light Green. Cambridge, W. Metcalfe and Sons, 1873.
Lord Beaconsfield.
It must be confessed that the burlesques of the novels of Disraeli are not, as a rule, very amusing, but there is one brilliant exception, namely, that written by Bret Harte.
It is entitled “Lothaw, or the Adventures of a Young Gentleman in Search of a Religion,” by Mr. Benjamins. This was first printed in England by the late Mr. J. C. Hotten in 1871. It consists of nine short chapters.
Lothaw.
Chapter I.
“I remember him a little boy,” said the Duchess. “His mother was a dear friend of mine: you know, she was one of my bridesmaids.”
“And you have never seen him since, mamma?” asked the oldest married daughter, who did not look a day older than her mother.
“Never; he was an orphan shortly after. I have often reproached myself, but it is so difficult to see boys.”
This simple yet first-class conversation existed in the morning-room of Plusham, where the mistress of the palatial mansion sat involved in the sacred privacy of a circle of her married daughters.
One dexterously applied golden knitting-needles to the fabrication of a purse of floss silk of the rarest texture, which none who knew the almost fabulous wealth of the Duke would believe was ever destined to hold in its silken meshes a less sum than £1,000,000 sterling; another adorned a slipper exclusively with seed pearls; a third emblazoned a page with rare pigments and the finest quality of gold-leaf.
Beautiful forms leaned over frames glowing with embroidery, and beautiful frames leaned over forms inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
Others, more remote, occasionally burst into melody as they tried the passages of a new and exclusive air given to them in MS. by some titled and devoted friend, for the private use of the aristocracy alone, and absolutely prohibited for publication.
The Duchess, herself the superlative of beauty, wealth, and position, was married to the highest noble in the Three Kingdoms.
Those who talked about such matters said that their progeny were exactly like their parents—a peculiarity of the aristocratic and wealthy.
They all looked like brothers and sisters, except their parents, who, such was their purity of blood, the perfection of their manners, and the opulence of their condition, might have been taken for their own children’s elder son and daughter.
The daughters, with one exception, were all married to the highest nobles in the land.
That exception was the Lady Coriander, who—there being no vacancy above a marquis and a rental of £1,000,000—waited.
Gathered around the refined and sacred circle of their breakfast-table, with their glittering coronets, which, in filial respect to their father’s Tory instinct and their mother’s Ritualistic tastes, they always wore on their regal brows, the effect was dazzling as it was refined.
It was this peculiarity and their strong family resemblance which led their brother-in-law, the good-humoured St. Addlegourd, to say that, “’Pon my soul, you know, the whole precious mob looked like a ghastly pack of court cards—don’t you know?”
St. Addlegourd was a radical.
Having a rent-roll of £15,000,000, and belonging to one of the oldest families in Britain, he could afford to be.
“Mamma, I’ve just dropped a pearl,” said the Lady Coriander, bending over the Persian hearth-rug.
“From your lips, sweet friend,” said Lothaw, who came of age and entered the room at the same moment.
“No, from my work. It was a very valuable pearl, mamma; papa gave Isaacs and Sons £50,000 for the two.”
“Ah, indeed,” said the Duchess, languidly rising; “let us go to luncheon.”
“But your Grace,” interposed Lothaw, who was still quite young, and had dropped on all-fours on the carpet in search of the missing gem, “consider the value——”
“Dear friend,” interposed the Duchess, with infinite tact, gently lifting him by the tails of his dress-coat, “I am waiting for your arm.”
Chapter II.
Lothaw was immensely rich.
The possessor of seventeen castles, fifteen villas, nine shooting-boxes, and seven town houses, he had other estates of which he had not even heard.
Everybody at Plusham played croquet, and none badly.
Next to their purity of blood and great wealth, the family were famous for this accomplishment.
Yet Lothaw soon tired of the game, and after seriously damaging his aristocratically large foot in an attempt to “tight croquet” the Lady Aniseed’s ball, he limped away to join the Duchess.
“I’m going to the hennery,” she said.
“Let me go with you. I dearly love fowls——
* * * * *
broiled,” he added, thoughtfully.
“The Duke gave Lady Montairy some large Cochins the other day,” continued the Duchess, changing the subject with delicate tact.
sang Lothaw gaily.
The Duchess looked shocked. After a prolonged silence, Lothaw abruptly and gravely said—
“If you please, ma’am, when I come into my property I should like to build some improved dwellings for the poor, and marry Lady Coriander.”
“You amaze me, dear friend, and yet both your aspirations are noble and eminently proper,” said the Duchess; “Coriander is but a child—and yet,” she added, looking graciously upon her companion, “for the matter of that, so are you.”
Chapter III.
Mr. Putney Padwick’s was Lothaw’s first grand dinner-party.
Yet, by carefully watching the others, he managed to acquit himself creditably, and avoided drinking out of the finger-bowl by first secretly testing its contents with a spoon.
The conversation was peculiar, and singularly interesting.
“Then you think that monogamy is simply a question of the thermometer?” said Mrs. Putney Padwick to her companion.
“I certainly think that polygamy should be limited by isothermal lines,” replied Lothaw.
239 “I should say it was a matter of latitude,” observed a loud, talkative man opposite.
He was an Oxford Professor, with a taste for satire, and had made himself very obnoxious to the company, during dinner, by speaking disparagingly of a former well-known Chancellor of the Exchequer—a great statesman, and brilliant novelist,—whom he feared and hated.
Suddenly there was a sensation in the room; among the females it absolutely amounted to a nervous thrill.
His Eminence, the Cardinal, was announced.
He entered with great suavity of manner, and after shaking hands with everybody, asking after their relatives, and chucking the more delicate females under the chin with a high-bred grace peculiar to his profession, he sat down, saying—
“And how do we all find ourselves this evening, my dears?” in several different languages, which he spoke fluently.
Lothaw’s heart was touched.
His deeply religious convictions were impressed.
He instantly went up to this gifted being, confessed, and received absolution.
“To-morrow,” he said to himself, “I will partake of the Communion, and endow the Church with my vast estates. For the present I’ll let the improved cottages go.”
* * * * *
Novels by Eminent Hands, a series of burlesques upon the works of Bulwer Lytton, Harry Lorrequer, G. P. R. James, and B. Disraeli, which first appeared in Punch were written by W. M. Thackeray. That upon Disraeli came out in 1847, it commenced thus:—
Codlingsby.
By B. De Shrewsbury.
The noise in the old town was terrific; Great Tom was booming sullenly over the uproar; the bell of Saint Mary’s was clanging with alarm; St. Giles’s tocsin chimed furiously; howls, curses, flights of brickbats, stones shivering windows, groans of wounded men, cries of frightened females, cheers of either contending party as it charged the enemy from Carfax to Trumpington Street, proclaimed that the battle was at its height.
In Berlin they would have said it was a revolution, and the cuirassiers would have been charging, sabre in hand, amidst that infuriate mob. In France they would have brought down artillery, and played on it with twenty-four-pounders. In Cambridge nobody heeded the disturbance—it was a Town and Gown row.
The row arose at a boat-race. The Town boat (manned by eight stout bargees, with the redoubted Rullock for stroke) had bumped the Brazennose light oar, usually at the head of the river. High words arose regarding the dispute. After returning from Granchester, when the boats pulled back to Christchurch meadows, the disturbance between the Townsmen and the University youths—their invariable opponents—grew louder and more violent, until it broke out in open battle. Sparring and skirmishing took place along the pleasant fields that lead from the University gate down to the broad and shining waters of the Cam, and under the walls of Baliol and Sidney Sussex. The Duke of Bellamont (then a dashing young sizar at Exeter) had a couple of rounds with Billy Butt, the bow oar of the Bargee boat. Vavasour of Brazennose was engaged with a powerful butcher, a well-known champion of the Town party, when, the great University bells ringing to dinner, truce was called between the combatants, and they retired to their several colleges for refection.
During the boat-race, a gentleman pulling in a canoe, and smoking a Nargilly, had attracted no ordinary attention. He rowed about a hundred yards ahead of the boats in the race, so that he could have a good view of that curious pastime. If the eight-oars neared him, with a few rapid strokes of his flashing paddles his boat shot a furlong ahead; then he would wait, surveying the race, and sending up volumes of odour from his cool Nargilly.
“Who is he?” asked the crowds who panted along the shore, encouraging, according to Cambridge wont, the efforts of the oarsmen in the race. Town and Gown, alike asked who it was, who, with an ease so provoking, in a barque so singular, with a form seemingly so slight, but a skill so prodigious, beat their best men. No answer could be given to the query, save that a gentleman in a dark travelling-chariot, preceded by six fourgons and a courier, had arrived the day before at the Hoop Inn, opposite Brazennose, and that the stranger of the canoe seemed to be the individual in question.
No wonder the boat, that all admired so, could compete with any that ever was wrought by Cambridge artificer or Putney workmen. That boat—slim, shining, and shooting through the water like a pike after a small fish—was a caique from Tophana; it had distanced the Sultan’s oarsmen, and the best crews of the Capitan Pasha in the Bosphorus; it was the workmanship of Togrul-Beg, Caikjee Bashee of his Highness. The Bashee had refused fifty thousand tomauns from Count Boutenieff, the Russian Ambassador, for that little marvel. When his head was taken off, the Father of Believers presented the boat to Rafael Mendoza.
* * * * *
——:o:——
Nihilism in Russia.
(In imitation of Disraeli’s Sybil.)
For there opposed each other but two elements in this society at once strange and simple. Around the throne of the Great Peter, and in the marble city which is his monument, the gay circles of the Aristocracy frittered away a frivolous existence amid the blaze of diamonds, the strains of music, and all those Circean enchantments that dull the energy and bid care repose. Here was wealth to make life easy, and here luxury to give it splendour; here was beauty to stir the pulse of youth, and here wit to waken even the most thoughtless to a sense that for them too there were pleasures of the intellect. So lived the lords of those vast plains, whose immensity made aptly significant the proud title of “All the Russias.” And the tiller of those plains, what of him? Surrounded by the sad and sombre Steppe, that breathed its melancholy over him from the cradle, broken by toil and of untutored mind, his life was suffering without interval of enjoyment, degradation without hope of change. Too brutish for the aspirations of Religion, he was well-nigh bereft of that supreme solace wherewith the ingenuity of the sophistical rhetorician may seek to sooth even the aged pauper of St. Pancras. And yet Revolution was as impossible for him as content. For Revolution is the explosion of an Idea, that overturns Society in its struggle to the light. To the Scythian serf was altogether wanting the initial force of the fulminating Idea. Steeped in ignorance, he was also isolated. Through his dreary continent had never permeated the Secret Societies of other lands, and for him there was no magic potency in the mysterious name of “Mary-Anne.” So he thought not of overturning Society, but of effacing it. For the first time in man’s history was seen that portentous birth, an Apostle of Nothing. In a word, he was a Nihilist!
240 Vainly was it attempted to divert his purposes by the lure of foreign conquest and a fresh Crusade; in vain was dangled before him by the astute Ministers of Muscovy the long-sought guerdon of his efforts—the sacred city of the Sultans. One was on the watch who came of a race not lightly to be beguiled, a race that was ancient thirty centuries before these Scythian hordes had claimed to be a nation. The Great Minister of the West, strong with the might and majesty of England, saw that it was reserved for him to crown that Royal Mistress, on whose brow he had recently set a new and Imperial coronet, with the fresh garland of a bloodless triumph. In the lofty language of the sacred records of his people, ‘Let there be Peace!’ he said; and that which he achieved became known to the world in his own historic phrase of “Peace with Honour!”
BROUGHSHANE.
This imitation won the first prize in a parody competition, in The World, September 17, 1879.
——:o:——
De Tankard.
By Benjamin Dizzyreally, Esq., M.P.
Chapter XL.
“What majority had they last night, my lord?” asked a fair young man in the Carlton, from a stately personage who was sitting at a table near him, occupied with a bottle of Lafitte.
“Fifty-two,” was the reply.
“How did Peel look when he heard it?”
“Oh, he smiled in his usual quiet triumphant way,” said Lord Mannerley.
“Ah! while Peel is sultan there will be no want of ruined villages for our political owls to make their nests in,” remarked the youth.
“Yes, these cursed free-traders flourish on the ruins of the agriculturalists,” said Lord Mannerly savagely.
“And they will be soon howling like jackals in the ruins of the constitution,” added his young companion, with a sigh.
“This Lafitte is capital,” said the ruined landowner.
At this moment a young man approached the table. His bearing was proud, his eyes dark and luminous, his figure stately as a palm-tree. His aquiline nose betrayed his superb organisation. You saw at once that he was of the purest Caucasian race. Yes! his lineage sprung from the families who peopled the noble mountain which received the Divine Ark, and cherished the snowy dove that spread its white wings over the waters, that had swallowed up the inhabitants of a world! As he passed up the noble room, how insignificant in his presence appeared the children of the semi-civilized barbarians, spawned in a northern swamp!
“May I offer you a glass of claret, De Tankard?” asked Lord Mannerley.
“Thank you, I only drink sherbet, just now,” replied the youth.
“You can get some Persian sherbet at a penny a glass,” said a witty Milesian lord.
De Tankard smiled compassionately on the aristocratic buffoon. “’Tis doubtless worthy of your English civilization,” was his calm scornful reply.
* * * * *
Chapter XLIV.
De Tankard stood at the window of a small country inn, and watched the storm raging in the forest. Lithely bent the straight poplar with a low wail beneath the breath of the north wind. The oak roared, the beech howled, and the wild leaves, caught in the eddies of the winds, were wreathed by them into chaplets, as though the Spirit of the Storm wished to crown with them the noble gazer on his work.
“’Tis a great spectacle,” remarked De Tankard, to a man who stood beside him, of an air—oh, how grand!
Benonia (for it was indeed he!) sneered. “Have you ever seen a Mediterranean white squall, or a whirlwind in the Desert?” he asked.
“Alas, no!” was the reply. “I must soon visit the glorious East, the parent of religion, civilization, science, and art,” and the dark eyes of De Tankard glowed with Eastern fire.
“Ah, you are young,” exclaimed Benonia, with enthusiasm. “Glorious youth! By youth have all great deeds been accomplished. Ransack the history of ages. The fact is stamped on every line. The Trojan, Paris, was but a youth when he ran away with the fair Grecian, and got his native town destroyed for it ten years after! Cæsar was in the freshness of life when he destroyed the Republic and founded a despotism. Nero developed his villany early, and Heliogabalus was a confirmed glutton before his minority was over! Nay, to come to our own country, what was the age of the Boy Jones when he passed the sacred precincts of a Royal palace, and stood where none but Royal feet had ever trod before?—Barely sixteen! Look at Lord William Lennox—how young he was when he wrote his great works!”
Benonia paused. De Tankard dropped a warm and sparkling tear. “I will start to the East to-morrow!” he exclaimed.
“You had better have a couple of millions,” said Benonia. “I have got about half-a-dozen in my pocket to carry me over the night.”
* * * * *
Chapter XLVIII.
Silence reigns beneath the brilliant azure of an Oriental sky;—silence, broken only by the silver tinkling of the camel’s bell. A noble creature is the camel. Compared with that Caucasian of beasts, the shapeless quadruped of the Northern, is but an ass!
Ever and anon, through the moist perfumed twilight, steals a delicious breeze. Delicious, but melancholy. For in that breeze floats a prophet’s sigh. The cypress moans as it passes; and the palm-tree bows its proud head in honour to it, as it flies along! On the holy barrenness of the saintly brow of Lebanon, the moon’s rays fall reverently, and Lebanon looks holier under their light.
In the court in front of the counting-house of an Emir, sits De Tankard. From among the round pebbles of the pavement, springs a fresh fountain. On the branches of the trees gleam ripe oranges.
The young man looked sad and solemn. He had that morning seen an angel, as usual! By his side was a lovely female, and near him the lively young Emir Baboo smoked his nargilly.
“Do you often see angels, De Tankard?” he asked, laughing.
“Peace!” was the reply.
“I have a combination!” cried out the Emir, jumping up with a violence which smashed the nargilly. “Let us 241 get the Druses and Maronites to unite, and we’ll go down to Djouni, and seize the English frigate there! What would Palmerston say to that?”
De Tankard laughed. “The East is the cradle of glory,” said he after a pause, with an enthusiastic look.
The Emir stared.
“Ah”! said he, “I had a brave chase yesterday, and ran off with the baggage of a caravan.”
The lady frowned. The Emir fell at her feet, and began to cry.
Next day, De Tankard started off with him on an excursion.
When employed in these ennobling diversions, he learned that his rich maiden aunt had arrived at Jerusalem.
* * * * *
From The Puppet-Showman’s Album. London.
Another parody on Tancred, written by “Cuthbert Bede” (the Rev. Edward Bradley), appeared in The Shilling Book of Beauty, it was entitled “Tancredi; or, the New Party.” By the Right Hon. B. Bendizzy, M.P.
In 1887, Messrs. Swan Sonnenschein & Co., London, published a shilling volume of prose burlesque novels, written by H. F. Lester. The first, entitled Ben D’ymion, was a parody of Lord Beaconsfield’s novel Endymion. The other authors imitated in this collection were William Black, George Elliot, Henry James, Thomas Hardy, and J. H. Shorthouse.
Ben D’ymion had originally appeared in Punch in 1880.
——:o:——
The Age of Lawn-Tennis.
(After Lord Beaconsfield’s “Sybil”.)
Chapter I.
“Advantage, we win,” shouted Sphairistikos.
“Never,” replied Retiarius, as he made his favourite stroke, which came speeding, whirling, hissing, the one-thousandth part of an inch over the top of the net, and fell twisting, twirling, shooting, in the extreme left-hand corner of the great twelve-yard court, only to be returned, however, by the flexibility of a wrist which had been famous in Harrow’s playing-fields in days of yore.
“Forty-thirty.”
“Deuce.”
“’Vantage against you!” “Game and set!” Such were the Babel-like cries which greeted our ears, as we approached Tong Castle’s level lawn, one fine autumnal afternoon.
And what was the scene that confronted us?
Ambitious adversaries, on all sides, were hitting to and fro, in alternated strokes, a gyratory ball, and loudly vociferating amœbean numerals as either side became involved in some reticular difficulty.
Here was to be seen, in variegated garb, such a galaxy of beauty as Shropshire seldom sees, assembled to render homage to the great Lawn-Tennis Champion, and to witness the feats of some of England’s doughtiest players.
Here were to be seen the eagle-eyed volleyer, the deft half-volleyer, the swift server, and the nimble net-player; while here, too, the quick cut, the treacherous twister, and the brilliant back-hander were exhibited on all sides in their purest perfection.
“Advantage, we win,” repeated Sphairistikos.
“Deuce,” said Retiarius, as his great stroke passed and shot lightning-like past his adversary’s racket.
And so they played and played on, till the balls began to glance in the golden light of a glorious sunset, and then to grow dimmer and dimmer in the deepening shadows of a rich twilight.
Chapter II.
But to what was all this tending, and to what condition had the Lawn-Tennis players brought the Great Western State which they inhabited?
A monarch on the throne, whose age alone prevented her from casting in her lot with an aristocracy of wealth and learning, who had already commenced to narrow life within the limits of the twelve-yard court!!
A gentler sex, forsaking the sacred duties of domesticity that they might lend grace and elegance to the all-prevailing pastime!!
A degraded peasantry, living but to delineate on level lawns the bounds past which England’s greatest and noblest born must not propel the gyrating sphere!!
A rustic generation, rising but to collect for their oppressors the distant-driven ball, and developing into manhood merely to tend and trim the smooth-shaven Lawn-Tennis ground, which had now become a necessary adjunct alike to glebe and manor!!
It was an age of Lawn-Tennis!!
“My prophetical instincts tell me,” said Retiarius, as he and his friends were waiting for the nets to be arranged,—“My prophetical instincts tell me that the great coming stroke will be the volley.”
“Why, so?” said Sphairistikos.
“It is as yet,” replied he, “only half-developed. A nation young in Lawn-Tennis has much to learn; much to forget. My impression is that the volley, properly understood, will convulse the future.”
“I believe in service for my part,” remarked Sphairistikos,—“Secure your first stroke. Demoralize first, win afterwards; I would borrow from the great nation which gave us Tennis, and say, ‘Ce n’est que le premier pas qui coûte.’”
“But I am looking to a distant future,” continued Retiarius. “We shall see great changes. There will be hereditary volleyers. The theories of Darwin must prevail. Volleyers will play with volleyers. The pastimes of a country lead to its courtships. It has always been so. A generation of volleyers will rise up who will volley from the service-line as accurately as their grandfathers have done from the nets.”
“What news from Afghanistan?” asked a fair player, who was putting on her shoes.
“Fifteen, the Government loses,” replied a Tennis-steeped youth; “they have served two faults,—one into Afghanistan; one into Zululand.”
“Bother Afghanistan,” said another damsel in short petticoats, “I want the scoring question settled.”
But the attendants now announced that the courts were ready.
“Fifteen, I win.”
“Fifteen, all.”
And so on, and on, and on, the adversaries played, with constantly-varying fortunes, till another day was nearly done, and they were once more compelled to surrender before the flickering blaze of a vanishing sun.
From Tennis Cuts and Quips. Edited by Julian Marshall. London. Field and Tuer.
——:o:——
242 It was known that Lord Beaconsfield had drawn many of the characters in Endymion from prominent members of society, and much curiosity was felt as to the identification of these individuals. Notes and Queries published a conjectural list of them, but it must be borne in mind that Lord Beaconsfield was sufficiently cautious not to paint his portraits too distinctly like his originals, in fact some of his puppets represent two or three individuals merged into one
Endymion | Benjamin Disraeli |
Zenobia | Lady Jersey |
Berengaria (Lady Montfort) | Hon. Mrs. Norton |
Agrippina | Queen Hortense |
Adriana Neufchatel | Lady Burdett Coutts |
The Neufchatels | The Rothschilds |
Col. Albert (Prince Florestan) | Napoleon III |
Lord Roehampton | Lord Palmerston |
Myra Roehampton | Empress Eugenie |
Enoch Craggs | Co-operation. |
Lord Montfort | The late Lord Hertford |
Lord Rawchester | Earl Granville |
Earl of Beaumaris | The late Earl of Derby |
Mr. Bertie Tremaine | Lord Houghton |
Count of Ferroll | Prince Bismarck |
Nigel Penruddock | Cardinal Manning |
Mr. Ferrars (the grandfather) | Rt. Hon. George Rose |
George Waldershare | Mr. George Smythe (afterwards Lord Strangford) |
Job Thornberry | Richard Cobden |
Mr. Vigo | Mr. Poole |
Mr. Jorrocks | Mr. Milner Gibson |
Hortensius | Sir W. Vernon Harcourt |
Sidney Wilton | Sidney Herbert |
Mr. Sainte Barbe | W. M. Thackeray |
Mr. Gushy | Charles Dickens |
Topsy Turvy | Vanity Fair |
Scaramouch | Punch |
——:o:——
A curious story of a plagiarism is related of Disraeli in the Life of Mr. Abraham Hayward, Q.C., who was formerly on the staff of the Morning Chronicle.
Early in the “fifties,” Mr. Disraeli made sundry depreciatory remarks on the speeches of military members of Parliament, classing them contemptuously as effusions of “the military mind.” The men of the Morning Chronicle replied to Mr. Disraeli’s attack on the intellect of soldiers by printing a translation of a magnificent eulogium on the Maréchal de St. Cyr by M. Thiers, setting forth the qualities necessary to a military commander. Mr. Disraeli was evidently struck by the brilliancy of the counter hit, for a few years later, when the Duke of Wellington died, he interpolated the translation, errors and all, in the oration which as leader of the House of Commons it was his duty to deliver on the death of that great general. The old writers of the Chronicle secured the insertion of the speech and the translated passage in the Globe. Mr. Disraeli’s friends made every attempt to explain away the plagiarism till an article in Fraser’s Magazine, written by Mr. Hayward, showed clearly that the passage was not even taken from the French original, but directly from the translation which appeared in the Morning Chronicle. Mr. Hayward was very proud of this article of his, in which he also handled Mr. Disraeli’s “Revolutionary Epick” very roughly.
The Woman in Tights.
By Wilkie Collins.
The narrative commenced by Walter Heartbright, teacher of jig-dancing, of Fulwood’s-rents, Holborn. This is a story of what a woman’s impatience can procure, and what a man’s irresolution can achieve. If the law were not such a blundering battering-ram the events which fill these pages might have merited its attention. I live with my mother, who keeps a general shop. Events alter my life. I go to Cumberland to attend on a gentleman. The story continued by Mr. Bearly, Gummeridge House, Cumberland: I am all self, etchings, and nerves. Why? I know not. Perhaps Laura knows, or Sir Pursefull. I am asked to make a statement. Aided by a galvanic battery I make it. Laura has gone on the stage. I am worried. Why should I be? I give it up. Thank you. Don’t bang. Send Heartbright here. I would see him dance. Statement by Hester Teecloth, cook at Count Bosco’s: I remember a lady being brought to our house last June. She came in a temper and a brougham. She was laid on the sofa. She looked wildlike, and kept shouting “There they go, millions of ’em.” When the doctor saw her he winked at the count and whispered, “Delicious trimmings,” but the poor thing was plainly dressed. That’s all I know. Heartbright finishes the story: We are to be married in a week’s time. Laura’s faculties have returned. Mr. Bearly and his nerves have found Nirvana. Sir Pursefull was drowned while showing off a lifebelt of his own invention. Bosco is in an asylum. His time is occupied in plucking green mice from his beard, and chirruping to pink canaries which he fancies he sees on the wall. My mother, always of a retiring disposition, has given up business. I am heir of Gummeridge House. Thus it ends.
William Evison Rose.
The Weekly Dispatch. February 25, 1883.
In this parody competition the compositions were limited to 300 words, a regulation which sadly hampered the competitors.
In Bret Harte’s Sensation Novels Condensed, there is a parody of Wilkie Collins, called “No Title.”
The Luck of Tory Camp.
By Bread Tart.
There was commotion in Tory Camp. Outside a rude cabin waited an excited crowd, headed by Solly, a stalwart digger, with a Raphael face and profusion of dark beard, whose duel with Harden Bill, the Rad-Dog Woodcutter, was still talked of with bated breath. The name of a woman was on every lip, a name familiar in the camp—Poll Icy. The less said of her the better; no better than she should be perhaps; half foreign, half Ingin; but yet the only woman in camp, and now in woman’s direst extremity. Suddenly an excited Celestial joined the group. “Lemme investigate, John,” said he; “me Pal-Mal, me washee-washee dirty linen, me go see her.” “Scoot, you dern skunk!” thundered Solly; “none but a down-east johnny-cake ’ud trust you with any woman nowadays.” At that moment a wail, feeble, yet sufficient to quell the laughter that greeted Solly’s sally, announced a birth in Tory Camp.… Little Randy, or the Luck—for by these names the frolicsome miners had christened the infant (in beer)—grew and throve, and soon became a power in the camp. His childish jokes with 243 Sairey Gamp, his nurse, were the delight of the brawny getters of gold from quartz (s), and even Solly smiled when the Luck “tackled the old ’un,” which he did when Harden Bill visited the camp now and then. “Rastled with Bill’s little finger, the derned little cuss,” roared Solly; “rastled with it, dern my skin.”
The winter of 1885 will long be remembered in California. One night Tea-Pot Gulch and Rad-Dog Fork leaped suddenly over their banks, and descended in ruin upon Tory Camp. When morning dawned the Luck lay lifeless in Solly’s arms, and Harden Bill smiled grimly as he watched the strangely assorted pair floating quietly towards the Sea of Oblivion.
J. C. Rose.
The Weekly Dispatch. September 13, 1885.
There is a parody on Bret Harte’s prose in The Shotover Papers (Oxford, 1874) entitled His Finger, but it is not sufficiently characteristic to merit reprinting.
Mr. Midshipman Breezy.
A Naval Officer.
By Captain Marryat, R.N.
CHAPTER I.
My father was a north-country surgeon. He had retired, a widower from Her Majesty’s navy many years before, and had a small practice in his native village. When I was seven years old he employed me to carry medicines to his patients. Being of a lively disposition, I sometimes amused myself, during my daily rounds, by mixing the contents of the different phials. Although I had no reason to doubt that the general result of this practice was beneficial, yet, as the death of a consumptive curate followed the addition of a strong mercurial lotion to his expectorant, my father concluded to withdraw me from the profession and send me to school.
Grubbins, the schoolmaster, was a tyrant, and it was not long before my impetuous and self-willed nature rebelled against his authority. I soon began to form plans of revenge. In this I was assisted by Tom Snaffle—a school-fellow. One day Tom suggested:
“Suppose we blow him up. I’ve got two pounds of gun-powder!”
“No, that’s too noisy,” I replied.
Tom was silent for a minute, and again spoke.
“You remember how you flattened out the curate, Pills! Couldn’t you give Grubbins something—something to make him leathery sick—eh?”
A flash of inspiration crossed my mind. I went to the shop of the village apothecary. He knew me; I had often purchased vitriol, which I poured into Grubbins’s inkstand to corrode his pens and burn up his coat-tail, on which he was in the habit of wiping them. I boldly asked for an ounce of chloroform. The young apothecary winked and handed me the bottle.
It was Grubbins’s custom to throw his handkerchief over his head, recline in his chair, and take a short nap during recess. Watching my opportunity, as he dozed, I managed to slip his handkerchief from his face and substitute my own, moistened with chloroform. In a few minutes he was insensible. Tom and I then quickly shaved his head, beard, and eyebrows, blackened his face with a mixture of vitriol and burnt cork, and fled. There was a row and scandal the next day. My father always excused me by asserting that Grubbins had got drunk—but somehow found it convenient to procure me an appointment in Her Majesty’s navy at an early day.
CHAPTER II.
An official letter, with the Admiralty seal, informed me that I was expected to join H.M. ship Belcher, Captain Boltrope, at Portsmouth, without delay. In a few days I presented myself to a tall, stern-visaged man, who was slowly pacing the leeward side of the quarter-deck. As I touched my hat he eyed me sternly:
“So ho! Another young suckling. The service is going to the devil. Nothing but babes in the cockpit and grannies in the board. Boatswain’s mate, pass the word for Mr. Cheek!”
Mr. Cheek, the steward, appeared and touched his hat.
“Introduce Mr. Breezy to the young gentlemen. Stop! Where’s Mr. Swizzle?”
“At the masthead, sir.”
“Where’s Mr. Lankey?”
“At the masthead, sir.”
“Mr. Briggs?”
“Masthead, too, sir.”
“And the rest of the young gentlemen?” roared the enraged officer.
“All masthead, sir.”
“Ah!” said Captain Boltrope, as he smiled grimly, “under the circumstances, Mr. Breezy, you had better go to the masthead too.”
CHAPTER III.
At the masthead I made the acquaintance of two youngsters of about my own age, one of whom informed me that he had been there 332 days out of the year.
“In rough weather, when the old cock is out of sorts, you know, we never come down,” added a young gentleman of nine years, with a dirk nearly as long as himself, who had been introduced to me as Mr. Briggs. “By the way, Pills,” he continued, “how did you come to omit giving the captain a naval salute!”
“Why, I touched my hat,” I said, innocently.
“Yes, but that isn’t enough, you know. That will do very well at other times. He expects the naval salute when you first come on board—greeny!”
I began to feel alarmed, and begged him to explain.
“Why, you see, after touching your hat, you should have touched him lightly with your forefinger in his waistcoat, so, and asked, ‘How’s his nibs?’—you see?”
“How’s his nibs?” I repeated.
“Exactly. He would have drawn back a little, and then you should have repeated the salute, remarking ‘How’s his royal nibs?’ asking cautiously after his wife and family, and requesting to be introduced to the gunner’s daughter.”
“The gunner’s daughter?”
“The same; you know she takes care of us young gentlemen; now don’t forget, Pillsy!”
When we were called down to the deck I thought it a good chance to profit by this instruction. I approached Captain Boltrope and repeated the salute without conscientiously omitting a single detail. He remained for a moment livid and speechless. At length he gasped out:
“Boatswain’s mate!”
“If you please, sir,” I asked, tremulously, “I should like to be introduced to the gunner’s daughter!”
“O, very good, sir!” screamed Captain Boltrope, rubbing his hands and absolutely capering about the deck with rage. “O d—n you! Of course you shall! 244 O ho! the gunner’s daughter! O, h—ll! this is too much! Boatswain’s mate!” Before I well knew where I was, I was seized, borne to an eightpounder, tied upon it and flogged!
* * * * *
From Sensation Novels Condensed, by Bret Harte. London. Ward, Lock and Co.
The Pale-Faced Warriors.
By Captain Mayne Reid.
CHAPTER I.
“I feel kinder dull,” said Tiger Tom to me one day. “Let us go and kill some ‘Injins.’” We soon reached the forest, but not a Redskin was in sight. Tom examined the trail closely, and with an old backwoodsman’s unerring instinct declared we should see no “Injins” that day. As I was complimenting him upon his wonderful sagacity, we were suddenly surprised by a band of the dreaded Chickatoos. With one thought for those at home Tom took to his heels and vanished. The savages bound me to a tree, and told me not to run away. I promised not to.
CHAPTER II.
An exciting discussion upon cookery, of which I was the central object, followed. One advocated roasting, another baking me! I did not favour either. Between them I got into a stew. At night, whilst the rascals slept, I perceived an Indian maiden by my side. She unbound me, and gave me the full dress of a chief, and some pigment to stain my skin with. To disguise myself was the work of a minute and three-quarters, when the savages awoke, and missing me, set up a terrific yell, and started in pursuit. To avoid observation, I accompanied them.
CHAPTER III.
The chase was particularly close. I was anxiously awaiting nightfall to escape them, when, horror! something wet touched my cheek. It was raining. The rain fell in torrents, and as it washed my colour off and I gradually became white, the Chickatoos saw through my disguise. Seizing his rifle, the chief told me to stand apart. He fired, but missed me. I feigned to be hit, and springing into the air, turned sixteen distinct somersaults. Before they recovered from their surprise, I disappeared in the forest.
F. P. Delafond.
The Weekly Dispatch Competition. February 25, 1883.
In this competition, the compositions were limited to 300 words, which prevented the authors from giving more than a very rough caricature of their originals. But in 1867, Mr. Walter Parke contributed a parody of Captain Mayne Reid to Judy free from any such harrassing restriction, and succeeded in producing a most blood-curdling romance. It was entitled “The Skull Hunters: A Terrific Tale of the Prairie!!” By Captain Rayne Meade; and consisted of twenty-one chapters of thrilling adventures, and daring exploits with illustrations to match. This was published in book form in 1868, another and revised edition was brought out in 1887, during the excitement about Buffalo Bill’s Wild West. This had a tremendous sale, it was called “sportmans; or, The Warriors of the Wild West.” Judy Office, London.
ANTICIPATIONS OF THE DERBY.
By a French Visitor.
I. L’Homme qui Rit.
“In England, everything is great, even that which is not good, even oligarchy itself!” Thought profound and sublime of the Master; apothegm initiatory and bitter of the Man who Laughs—who laughs, but who can also bite.
For Genius, as for Ambition—for Prometheus who thinks, as for Prometheus who wields the great battalions—seems it not that there is reserved, by the derisive irony of Fate, an expiatory rock, an island exile?
For Victor Hugo, this rock, expiatory but glorious, calls itself Guernsey.
For Napoleon, it had two names; it was Elba, and it was Ste. Hélène.
Patience, Master! Watching the brumous clouds, tainted with Britannic fogs, that roll around the Islands of the Sleeve in the crepusculary sadness of an English spring—listening to the breeze, keen, acute, Arctic, Polar, which groans, which growls, which howls, which whistles menacing but impuissant, around the walls of Hauteville House—remember thyself, Master, that History, as for Ambition, so for Genius, repeats herself, in moments, for the one of remorse, for the other of caprice!
After Elba, the Hundred Days.
After Ste. Hélène, the voyage of the Belle-Poule.
“He laughs best who laughs last,” says the Proverb.
Proverbs are the wisdom of nations.
And thou, oh Master, oh author of the Man who Laughs, thy laugh is as the laugh of Gwynplaine, sombre but not cynical, permanent but full of pity, of compassion—a laughter broken with tears—above all, a laughter which endures!
II. The Solidarity of the Sportmans.
Yes; in England, everything is great. Even in her sports, she is the Titaness of the Ocean.
There is a solidarity of peoples; above all, there is a solidarity amongst the votaries of Diana, huntress pale, chaste, ferocious, formidable, but ravishing, but divine!
The sportmans of France, the sportmans of England, they are as the brothers of Corsica. What says your Williams? “As we were being washed by nurse, we got completely mixed!”
Touching and tender fantasy of this grand old Swan of Stratford-upon-Thames! Or, what say I—of Corsica? Of Siam—melancholy but affecting type of the rudimentary solidarity of the Orient!
I had long desired to watch you insularies in the sports of the hippodrome, in which I am myself not without skill; but the furious storms of the Sleeve twice detained me at Calais, and once at Boulogne. I consoled myself in the hope that everything comes to him who knows how to wait.
I knew how to wait. I waited.
After Chantilly, Epsom’s courses!
The sea appeared calm; not a wrinkle in the folds of the steel-blue Sleeve.
I embarked myself, with my luggage in my left hand and my “Ruff’s Guide to the Turf” in my right.
I shall see them, then, at last—these courses, sacred in the past by the memory of Eclipse and the Flying Admiral Childers, dear to the patriotic heart of France in the present days by the triumph of Gladiateur!
245 III. Ocean less Perfidious than the Aristocracy of Albion.
The sun was shining. The Ocean stirred gently in its sleep. Its ripples were as tender, as voluptuous, as the sighs of pleasure which scarcely derange the diaphanous scarf that lies upon the bosom of beauty. Oh, Phœbus! Oh, Neptunus! Oh, Venus!
I told you the sun was shining. My heart also. That I was gay! Gaiety premature, unreasonable, absurd!
As we cross Calais Bar the vessel rolls. I like it not. Can she be strong enough for the traverse, often fearful and stormy, to Douvres? I begin to marvel whether she is made of iron, or only made of wood.
I address the question, politely, to a young English sportmans by my side—“Pardon, Mister! but what is the vessel made of?”
A spasm of uncertainty, if not of pain, passes across his face as he points to an inscription inside the paddle-boxes.
One can only die one time; nevertheless, it is permitted to exclaim against the perfidy of the Steam-Lords of the Board of Commerce for London and Douvres. I read the inscription. Hope abandons me. The vessel is not made of iron!
She is not even made of wood!!
She is only “Maid of Kent!!!”
IV. Portentosum Mare.
An agitation which I have never felt before seems to seize upon me.
The further we go, the more it increases.
The young English sportmans, with the cynical indifference of the patrician, contemplates my sufferings, and lights his cigar. Is it that he calls that “solidarity”?
Two blonde misses with their papa—oligarch, fat, and without sympathy—sit near me. They talk to each other freely. At times they laugh. I laugh not, I!
Nor would they laugh, spoilt infants of Fashion, if I were to express the ideas that are struggling in my bosom—if I were to show them all that is within me!
V. After Convulsion, Despair.
I have shown them all that was within me.
They have moved away—it was a prudent step.
Now that they are gone, I could almost wish that I were dead!
VI. Noblesse Oblige.
The young English sportmans is, after all, a good infant. He brings me a big goblet and a biscuit, which comfort me, and tries to speak to me in French.
Words sympathetic, but mysterious.
“Ah, Monsieur,” he says, “il faut décidément maintenir votre pivert!”
Enigma! “I must keep up my wood-pecker?” I have no wood-pecker! I tell him so in his own tongue; adding that I am very fond of shooting at the doves.
“Ah,” he rejoins, “we don’t call ’em Doves, we call ’em les hiboux du coiffeur—Barbers’ Owls!”
We become more and more friendly, as the pain subsides. When we reach Douvres, I give him my card.
He says that he has forgotten his; but that I shall have no difficulty in finding him at any of the tambours de la chasse—Sporting Drums—especially if I ask for Lord William Wiggins, of Wapping.
What a droll of a name! Not facile to pronounce, that! Let us essay, with the help of the dictionary of pronunciation:
“Ouilliam Ouiggins—of Ouapping.”
VII. The Babylon of Britain.
Yes: in England everything is great. Behold this London, confused and chaotic amalgamation of bourg upon bourg, of city upon city, almost of county upon county—behold its administration, vague, contradictory, without doubt, but immense, but Titanic, but sublime.
To-day London has but one heart, which palpitates—one thought, which engrosses—one dream, which possesses—one hope, which enchants. To the heart, the thought, the dream, the hope, there is one key.
It is the Epsom’s Courses, at Derby!
VIII. Explications.
Questions to resolve:
“Who is Epsom?”
“And where is Derby?”
Mystery strange and inexplicable, this Epsom! Not one of my interlocutors, of French or English, can give me any particulars of his life. Oh fame, oh renown, oh fickleness of popular affection! We go to the Courses he has founded; and yet the very day of his death is forgotten or unknown!
Another mystery. Derby is a hundred and twenty miles from London; and yet many of my friends assure that they will drive down without a single change of horses! Ah, then, it is no marvel, this predominance of the old England in the hippic arena, when even the ordinary horses of the carriage can travel a hundred and twenty miles—two hundred kilomètres—without fatigue.
These facts were new to me. They were also new to most of my countrymen with whom I conversed.
The Unknown—behold the Redoubtable!
IX. Vieille Ecole, Bonne Ecole.
Happily, I encounter Lord Ouiggins.
He is an aristocrat of the old rock—a little mocking, perchance, a little reserved, cold, indifferent, proud, but of an antique probity, a disinterestedness more than Roman.
He takes me under his charge.
I had been deceived. They were mocking themselves of me, those who told me the courses were at Derby. They are run on Epsom’s Salt-Downs.
“Derby” is only the title of their founder, one of those English eccentrics of whom the type is so familiar in France—poet, politician, jockey—Premier Minister of Great Britain until he was overthrown by the intrigues of Sir Benjamin Gladstone!
After one thunder-stroke, another:
Gladiateur is not to run!
Is this, then, the old Britannic chivalry—the love of what the poet has proudly called “Greenwich Fair-Play”? Is this the entente cordiale? I survey Lord Ouiggins. He can scarcely meet my eye. He turns aside.
Let us hope it is to blush!
He tries to defend the invidious exclusion. He pretends that in the Derby-Course the horses must not exceed a certain age; also that Gladiateur was at least quite sufficiently near that age when he did run. Puerile evasion! False pride of nationality!
What is to become of the money I have wagered?
Lord Ouiggins tells me to console myself. He has private information. He will not see a foreign gentleman wronged.
X. Les Nuits de Londres.
We are inseparable.
Milord has backed a favourite to win him thousands of sterlings.
Curious, almost cynical nomenclature of the Turf!
246 The horse is named Ventre-Tambour, Bellydrum!!
He is assured to win; Milord dreamt, last night, that he saw him four lengths ahead at Tattenham-court-road Corner.
I wager freely on Ventre-Tambour.
Lord Ouiggins says we had better not go down to his baronial hall at Ouapping, but “make a night” and start early.
Ah, nights of London, you have not, effectively, stolen your reputation! What contrasts, fascinating but terrible—here, the noblesse, like Ouiggins quaffing champagne with visitors from France; and there the miserables, the Tom-Dick-Harries drinking gin—the blonde misses, casting aside the Puritanic pudor of the saloon, and dancing freely with foreign gentlemans at the Duke of Argyle’s Casino—what contrasts, but also, alas, what jealousies still existing, what internecine hatred still in rage!
That the English should hate the Irish is but natural.
We always hate those whom we have wronged!
It is less reasonable that they should continue to hate the children of Cambria, with whom they have been so long in friendly union.
And yet, more than once during this exciting evening, I have heard Lord Ouiggins spoken of—my patrician pur sang—as a Welsher, with evident contempt.
Brutal antipathies unworthy of the century!
They shall have no influence on the mind of a son of France.
“Lord Ouilliam,” I exclaimed, “regard them not! Generous compatriot of Llewellyn, I pledge thee in another bumper to the victory of Ventre-Tambour!”
——:o:——
Realities of the Derby.
I. Selters waters, or S. and B?
After Light, Shadow; after Pleasure, Pain; sad but inevitable oscillations of the pendulum of life!
Alas, to wake—it is to remember, and to remember is to repent.
Last night, I banqueted with the merchant-princes of London and with the ancient nobility of Wales; the leaders of the Fashion World, the Sport, the Turf, the boxers of the most renowned, the comics of the musical saloons—Lord Ouiggins signalised them all to me. Foaming, sparkling, vivacious, the wines of Champagne led the way for the stronger Grogs. A vision, confused indeed, but magnificent in its confusion, will long recall to me the night before the Derby.
I awoke.
Sad and supreme moment of mortality when awakening means isolation!
For some time, I knew not where I found myself. Presently, as the dim light of the dawn penetrated, first through the folds of the fog, and next through the dirt of the windows, I recollected that Lord Ouiggins had advised me to stay with him at a fashionable hotel, adding that his own drag would call for us in the morning.
It was still of a good hour. I turned myself to sleep; but heard, with dreamy ears, the fall—or so it seemed—of cataracts of rain, around me, beside me, overhead. The sound gave me a strange sensation of thirst, which I cannot otherwise explain.
Instinctively, I rang the bell, and shouted “Selters! Selters! Selters!”
A tap at my door; and Lord Ouilliam, in half-toilette, appeared. I saluted him.
“Is it that the rain will make to be deferred the Courses?”
“What rain?”
“Listen, then!”
“That? Why, it’s only the men tubbing!” (Idiom untranslatable.)
“What did you ring for?” pursued Lord Ouilliam.
“But, for Selters then!”
“Tout droit.” he rejoined. “Vous etiez horriblement coupé, mon ami; bien roide!”
Strange and picturesque argot of intoxication: “awfully cut,” “very tight.”
“Listen,” continued Milord, “My carriage is not yet arrived. It has probably been stopped by the Thames Embankment, which is to run outside my park at Ouapping. Look you, I will take places for two, outside an omnibus. It is the usual plan amongst nobility. Admiral Rous will be one of us. You may easily know him by his wearing a white hat, a veil, and a flower in his button-hole. Meanwhile, better not have Selters. Try S. and B!”
Enigma, of which the solution—when it came—was far from disagreeable.
II. Lux.
The morning at first was dull and brumous. The spleen of Britannia seemed to possess me. I had atrocious pains in my head. Every noise bore upon my nerves. The very sight of food seemed to nauseate me.
Lord Ouiggins, on the contrary, made a breakfast of the most substantial.
I cannot say much in favour of the cuisine at this fashionable hotel, one of the first in London, the well-known “Spotted Dog” in the aristocratic quarter. Route de la Chapelle Blanche (White-Chapel-road), the Faubourg St. Germain of London. Strange: the hotel is not mentioned in any of the ordinary London Guides.
We take our places. The best seat is reserved for the Admiral—that famous old warrior, who turned the fortune of the day at Chillianwallah by his historical charge at the head of the Naval Reserve and the Royal Horse Marines. Combination eccentric, but not without precedent. The horse was sacred to Neptunus. This Rous, see you, this Admiral so passionately equine in his tastes, he is Jean-Bart and he is also Murat; he is Kellermann and he is also La Pérouse! All the great men touch, and recognise one another!
The light still brightens. Behold us then effectively departed!
Hourrah! Hep, hep, hep!
Vive Ventre-Tambour!
III. Nothing is Certain to Happen but that which is Unforeseen.
We have gone a few miles on our road, still through the streets of the fashionable quarter, to-day as democratic as the Faubourg St. Antoine, and crowded with other Derbyites, before we speak much to each other. Reserve characteristic of the oldest and proudest aristocracy on earth.
At length Lord Ouiggins whispers me—
“I knew I had forgotten something. I’ve left my purse on the piano!”
For the moment I wished that I had done the same.
Suspicion dishonouring and ignoble!
IV. Si Jeunesse Savait.
Fog, obscurity, cold—yes, you will find them all in the climate of Great Britain; in England, in Scotland, in Ireland, and in the mountains of Wales, the cradle of Lord Ouilliam! It is true, but it is not the only verity. Great Britain also has her moments of fine weather. There are 247 no such trees in the world as the tall poplars of my own, my beautiful France—none planted in such mathematical, such symmetrical order, so methodical, logical, and straight. Nevertheless, Nature is infinite. Even the chestnuts, hawthorns, lilacs, and laburnums of the Surrey lanes are not absolutely offensive to the eye. To-day, also, Phœbus pierces. Lux!
There are no women in the world like those of Paris; but there is still a pleasant freshness in the faces of the young pensionaries who watch us, at times, over garden walls. To several of these, I kiss my hand. They smile in reply. Laugh, rosy daughters of Albion, laugh; for it is still day, and you are young—too young for reverie.
V. When Poverty becomes ironical, let Wealth take care.
The old Britannic humour, as exhibited in Samuel Benjamin Jonson, in Jonathan Smith, and Dean Sydney Swift, is not absolutely extinct upon the road.
More than one little Arab of the highway shouts out to me, “I’ll have your hat!” Wild caprice of the imagination, playfully misrepresenting the probable eventualities of the future, and yet, at bottom, profound, almost terrible—a mockery, yes, but a menace—a jest, without doubt, but a threat also—the voice, grotesque but strident, of the Miserables.
I impart the reflections to Lord Ouiggins. Alas, to what good? The pride of his class is too strong for him. His natural instincts are noble; but he is spoiled by the mephitic atmosphere of the Upper Chamber. With a laugh cold, sardonic, and glacial, he replies:—
“Throw the little beggar a copper, and let him go!”
He does not even, generous though he is, offer to provide the copper.
Again, ignoble suspicion! I forget that he has left his purse on the piano!
The Arab—delirious with joy—saved, perhaps, from starvation by the casual bounty of a foreign sportmans, would fain express his thanks. His emotion overpowers him. He staggers; horror, he falls! No! again! Gallant child of Poverty, the struggle is vain. Once more he wavers, he oscillates, he falls, and turning wildly head over heels, in the convulsion of his death agony, he disappears in a cloud of dust—doubtless to be driven over by the omnibuses of the haughty, and the phaetons of the Stock Exchange!
Shocked, but masking my horror under the veil of a politeness a little cynical I say to Lord Ouiggins.
“And well, then, Milord, did you see what he did? and do you know what will be his fate?”
Question terrible!
He does not even remove the cigar from his mouth, this impassive patrician, as he answers, with a laconism which lacerates, which vibrates on my nerves, which almost makes me bound.
“Yes; cart-wheel!”
VI. London at Epsom.
Dust, heat, emotion—all stimulate thirst.
I soon forget the little Arab. There are plenty of others remaining! There are worse things in the world, too, than bottled stout. Lord Ouilliam tells me that none of the aristocracy now drink champagne in public. It excites a feeling of envy among the lower orders. On Derby’s Day, the populace gives the tone to the peerage.
The crowd; my faith, and what a crowd! There are two things in the world which a man never forgets: his first sight of the sea, and his first sight of the multitude on Epsom Downs!
What a sound, as of ocean! What infinite discords, subdued, by very force of number and of contradiction, into one sublime monotone! What minstrelsy, cosmopolitan and comprehensive—the audible expression of a Colonial System unparalleled in grandeur and extent! The Hindoo may think in his heart of the days when he fought for his country’s municipal freedom under the banner of Rammohun Roy and Nana Sahib; but look! Plaintively submissive, he strikes his tom-tom to amuse the destroyers of his race.
VII. Messieurs, faites votrejeu! Le jeu est fait!
“Would you like to see the horses a little nearer?” says Lord Ouiggins. “You had better buy a couple of tickets for the Padwick.” I do so. The Padwick—so called of an eminent British sportmans—is an enclosed space in which the true connoisseurs survey the horses before they start. As I gaze at Ventre-Tambour, I can hardly refrain from shouting, amongst all these impassible patricians, “Hourrah! Hep, hep, hep!”
Lord Ouilliam Ouiggins comes to me, hurriedly, and whispers, “Hush, I have just got the straight tip from the Admiral himself. It’s a moral; and the horse at twenty-five to one! We must get on every sov. we have. There is barely time before they start. Quick.” I hand him my purse—not without a moment of hesitation—of which I am speedily ashamed.
VIII. Rien ne va plus.
A minute sometimes seems like hours. Fortune was in my grasp.
The interval of suspense was horrible; and yet its termination, when it did come, seemed abrupt, sudden, incredible.
I was still struggling with the crowd, when a hoarse sound suddenly rose like the roar of a tempest on a rocky coast—it rose, and rose, and grew stronger; I looked; I saw a wonderful white flash of faces as the heads of the multitude turned all, in one instant, one way; and my pulses seemed as though they would kill me with their throbbing as, with one voice, that innumerable assemblage cried—
“They’re Off!”
IX. The Word of the Enigma.
They were indeed; and so was Lord Ouilliam Ouiggins of Ouapping!
Anonymous, 1869.
——:o:——
One-and-Three.
In 1874, Punch published a novel under the above title ascribed to “Fictor Nogo,” but which was popularly (and correctly) attributed to Mr. F. C. Burnand. Later on it was published in book form by Bradbury and Co. The fun is rather long drawn out, but Hugo’s style is admirably parodied. The following is an extract from the preface:—
Letter from M. Fictor Nogo (author of “Une-et-trois”) to our eminent translator:—“My Honourable Co-Labourer,—Your noble and glorious translation of my immortal work touches me profoundly. I felicitate London. London, in publishing a work of mine, draws to itself the attention of the civilised world. London swells with pride under the benignant sway of a Lord Mayor. The Lord Mayor crowns poets, glorifies literature. He decks you with turtle, and this does homage to 248 genius. You represent genius, for you represent me. Thus I am shadowed: for this I embrace you in spirit, You have co-mingled your ideas with mine. You and I, the Translator and the Translated, the Adapter and the Adapted, it is grand. More than grand—it is stupendous. More than stupendous—it is colossal.”
——:o:——
“Thirty-one.”
(By the Author of “93,” “The History of a Grime,” &c., &c.)
Chapter I.—Searching.
She was lost! In this world nothing is lost. It is only mislaid. She was Miss Lade: yet she was lost! Where was she? She was in London. London is in England. It is a great city—as large as Paris! It is as hard to discover a person in London as “to find a needle in a bottle of hay.” This is an English phrase. They bottle hay, and rack it, like wine! It is made into chaff. The people are fond of chaff. The Scotchman lives on oats, the Irishman on potatoes, the Englishman on chaff.
Tom Harry sought her. He wanted to marry her! He hoped she also wanted Tom Harry. But he had lost her. He knew she was in London, therefore he was in London. He inquired of many. They gave him chaff. He could not find the needle in it. She was his needle. He was a Pole—an English naturalized Pole. He would stick at nothing to find her. They were true to each other as Needle and Pole! but were now as far apart as two Poles!
Chapter II.—Cum Grano Salis.
The world is always large. Society is small. But Tom Harry and Miss Lade were in the world. They were not in Society! He had to seek her out of Society. Endeavour to catch a globule of mercury in a drawer. It flies—it escapes—it separates into atoms—it joins again and rolls away—it is lost—it is found—it is never secured! It eludes you—it is a demon—a wild spirit that vanishes as you think you grasp it! So was Miss Lade to Tom Harry! He thought that he saw her—but she became invisible! He could not find her. She found herself—it was in furnished apartments!
Chapter III.—Arithmetic.
He had a clue! But what was a clue in so wild a maze as the great London? In Paris the police would have found her, In London there were, at that time, no police. They were “reserved forces,” and had been called out in case of war! When so used there are no police. The authorities then make constables of the prisoners. It is a maxim of English law, “Set a thief to catch a thief.” But Miss Lade was not a thief—except that she had stolen the heart of Tom Harry! This was not a legal felony—therefore the police could not catch her! The clue was a piece of paper found in her room in Paris. On it was written the number “31” and “London.” That was all!
Chapter IV.—Circumambient.
How to find this number 31? That was the problem. Tom Harry had graduated at Oxford—not Cambridge. This was the error! A Cambridge man would have been able to calculate the probabilities, and obtained a result. Tom Harry had to discover her equation. She was X (an unknown quantity). He was A, but he was also—C (that is minus cash)! The postulate was that A - C + B = X. What was the B in the equation?—probably a book. What book?—decidedly a London directory! He bought one. It is a large book—a heavy one! He could not carry it—yet it was a necessary work of reference. Difficulties must be conquered. Man was made to overcome them! Tom Harry succeeded! He purchased a “single” perambulator—not a “double”—one they double up! The leaves of the directory were doubled down. Therefore the perambulator and the book were in accord! He wheel’d about his book. It was his child!—he had bought it! They allow this in England, where they sell wives at Smithfield! He found his way about. This child was his guide! Is not childhood the very best and purest guide to manhood? and does not manhood only lead us into a second childhood? But among all the numbers “thirty-one,” he had not found her! He was in a fog. She was mist. He was in a London fog! It was dark and thick as Erebus! But he could not see e’er a “bus.” They could not run; nor could he. He had lost Miss Lade—he had now lost himself? He asked a sweeper of crossings where was he? He was told that he was at the corner of the Park of Hyde! It was true.
Chapter V.—What Happens is Always the Unforeseen.
There are dark periods in the history of nations. It is the same with individuals. It was so with Tom Harry. He was at the Park of Hyde—at one corner of it! It was a place to hide in—hence the name. Was she hidden there? It was a natural thought. He would search it, and would find her! But how? He knew not the way! Here steps in Fate, which governs all things. It was a policeman! There were only two left of the reserves—one to guard the Tower, where the Queen resides; the other in charge of Constitution Hill, which is by the corner of Hyde Park. Under ordinary circumstances the police of London are not permitted to talk. They are only allowed to say, “Move on!” This is the Englishman’s watchword! The Americans have the same, in effect; they say, “Go ahead!” The policeman in charge of Constitution Hill was absolved from this rule by an Order in Council. It was an important office. The preservation of the Queen and Constitution (which is kept on the Hill named from it) is of the greatest national consequence. Therefore the policeman was a high official, and allowed to speak. Tom Harry addressed him, explaining his position and quest for Miss Lade. The policeman pointed to his collar and the figures on it, exclaimed—“I am number ‘31’! Miss Lade lodges with my wife!” The clue was right! She was found!
Finis.
C. H. Waring.
Fun. August 14, 1878.
——:o:——
In Bret Harte’s Sensation Novels Condensed there is an imitation of Victor Hugo, in ten chapters, entitled “Fantine.” The Prologue is as follows:—
“As long as there shall exist three paradoxes—a moral Frenchman, a religious Atheist, and a believing sceptic—so long, in fact, as booksellers shall wait—say twenty-five years for a new gospel; so long as paper shall remain cheap and ink at three sous a bottle, I have no hesitation in saying that such books as these are not utterly profitless!
Victor Hugo.”
“Grinplaine, or the man who doesn’t laugh.” A serial burlesque of Victor Hugo’s “L’homme qui rit,” by Walter Parke, appeared in Funny Folks, 1875.
249 The Bat of June 2, 1885, contained a parody of Victor Hugo, called Quel bonheur Marie (What Cheer ’Ria?) somewhat coarse in tone, and not very amusing.
——:o:——
The House that Victor Built.
On January 24, 1885, the following announcement appeared in Punch:—
It being reported that Victor Hugo has just purchased for the sum of £13,000 a piece of land in the immediate vicinity of his present abode, with a view of building on it an entirely new house “of his own designing,” the following extract from a preliminary letter of instructions to the contractor who has undertaken the work will be read with interest.
* * * * *
“You will ask me whether I am an Architect; and I reply to you, ‘An Architect is one who constructs.’ Do I construct? Yes. What? Never mind; let us proceed. To construct a house you require a basement. This is the language of the Contractor. But the Poet meets him with a rejoinder. A basement is a prison, and Liberty can not breathe through a grating. This was the case at the Bastille! What has been done at the Bastille does not repeat itself. What then? You will commence the house on the first floor.”
Does this stagger the Architect? Unquestionably! Yet to commence a house on the first-floor is easy enough. To the Contractor? No. To the Poet? Yes. How? By a flight. Two flights will take anyone somewhere. Upstairs? Yes. Downstairs? Certainly! In my lady’s chamber? Why not? This is a phenomenon, and surprises you. Just now you were on the stare. Now you are on the first-floor landing. Therefore, you have taken a rise. Out of whom—the Architect? Possibly. Let us resume.
And now for the drawing-room.
This will be colossal. Why? Because the furniture in it will be stupendous. To talk of stupendous furniture is to suggest the opening scene of a Pantomime. A big head! Whose? No matter. But you will inquire as to this furniture. You will probably say, ‘Will there be chairs?’ No. ‘Arm-chairs?’ Useless. ‘Sofas with six legs?’ A phantom! ‘What then? Canopied thrones for four-and-twenty, with one of a superior make and quality?’ Quite so. ‘Why?’ Because it is here that Genius, after dinner, will meet the Kings and Emperors that aspire to pay it homage. ‘Will there be windows?’ Rather—and there is this convenient thing besides—eight-and-forty balconies. You will say at once, ‘Two a-piece?’ But you will quickly add—‘What of the gardens beneath?’ To this there is only one answer possible—‘Fireworks!’
Roman candles, rockets, and Bengal lights? No.—A set piece? Yes. Representing what? Somebody! Now there is this advantage about a set-piece that represents somebody—if carefully prepared, regardless of expense, and covering an area of 90 feet by 120. It may be permanent. Some one whispers ‘Advertisement.’ To this I make a supreme reply, ‘Fame!’
And now let us pass to another room. Shall we put our foot in it? Yes. Why? Because it is the kitchen.
——:o:——
The Spoiler of the Sea.
By Victor Hugo.
Chapter I. Gaillard was a wrecker, a smuggler. He was an honest man. Ships are the effect and cause of commerce. Commerce cheats, commerce adulterates, commerce is bad. To wreck ships engaged in knavery is good. Gaillard the smuggler robbed the revenue, you say; so do monarchs. You take off your hat to a king. I raise mine to Gaillard—to a man. You call me crazy. Keep your temper; I keep mine. You are an idiot. I should like to punch your head. Chapter II. Gaillard was considered ugly. He was not. He had a bump. A dromedary has a hump. The dromedary is beautiful. He had a squint—it is better to squint than to be blind. His eyes were green—that is the colour of Nature’s beauteous sylvan dress. His mouth was extremely large—so is that of the hippopotamus. The hippopotamus is a charming fellow. Gaillard had the beauty of the dromedary, the loveliness of Nature in his eyes, the charm of the hippopotamus. Gaillard was sublime. Chapter III. Gaillard sprang into the sea to bathe; this happened once a year. You will admit that once in three hundred and sixty-five days was not too often. An octopus—a devil fish—was watching him. Man and monster, they eyed each other. Gaillard trembled at its glance—he was not brave. I saw it once, and did not tremble; I am brave. It was at the Aquarium. The octopus has eight legs; Gaillard wished for eighty, but his two sufficed. Fear gave them the swiftness of two hundred. He ran. You would have run. Should I have done so? Everything is possible. It is possible I should have run.
F. P. Delafond.
The Weekly Dispatch. September 13, 1885.
——:o:——
The Cat.
The cat is the concrete symbol of a vacillating politician.
It is always on the fence.
It is the feline embodiment of one of the profoundest human principles wrenched from the circumambience of the Unknown, and hurled into the bosom of consciousness.
Nine tailors make one man. The cat has nine times the life of one man, for it has nine lives. Possession, also, is nine points of the law. Behold a legal possession of existence equal to the span of eighty-one clothiers’ lives.
Let us bow reverently before this august fact.
The wanderer by the midnight seashore, when the moon—that argent cornucopia of heaven—is streaming forth her flowers and fruits of radiance, and the illimitable is illuminated by the ineffable, will have remarked the phosphorescent ridges that scintillate along the billows’ tops, until the breakers seem to curve and snort like horses’ necks with manes of lightning clad.
So, O man, when in the darkness of thine own chamber, thou passeth thine hand along the furry spine of this feline phantom of the back yard, the electric sparks dart forth, and a flash of lightning fuses together the fingers and the fur.
Exquisite antithesis of Nature! The fireside embraces the ocean. The hearthstone is paved with seashells. The monsters of the deep disport, reflected in the glowing embers. The infinite Abroad is brought into amalgamation with the finite at Home.
The ocean roars.
The cat only purrs.
The billows rise and culminate and break.
250 The cat’s back rises. The feline tide is up, and we have a permanent billow of fur and flesh.
O impossible co-existence of uncontradictory contradictions!
The duke of Wellington was pronounced the greatest captain of his age. Gen. Grant is pronounced the greatest captain of his.
The greatest captain of any age was the captain with his whiskers.
Let us not call this the tergiversation of history. Call it rather the tergiversation of nature.
The whiskers of the captain.
The whiskers of the cat.
The hirsute exponent of martial supremacy. The feline symbolism of the Bearded Lady, crossing her claws before the family fire.
Jealousy has been called the green-eyed monster.
The cat is the green-eyed monster.
Both lie in wait. Neither destroys its victim without toying with it. One is the foe, the other the friend, of the fireside. Either is to be met with in almost every family. Each is of both sexes.
“Old Tom” gin, in excess, is one of man’s bitterest bibulous foes; man is the bitterest bibulous foe of old tom cats.
Osculations between sky and earth! O lips of the Seen touching the lips of the Unseen! O wave of thought careering through the asymptotes of cloudland, crystalizing into angelic foci the tangents of humanity.
The stars are out at night.
So are cats!
——:o:——
A MANIFESTO BY HICTOR VUGO
We live and move and have our being. By we I express civilisation, which consists first of Paris, then the world at large. We are born with generous instincts. We are naturally humane. I call upon the French Revolution of ’92-3 to prove this theory. We cannot all be Arabis. That would be too supreme a dream. But we can all admire him at a distance. Those horrible canaille the English have warred against a weak race of striplings, descendants of the glorious mummies. They have fought, and aided by the magnificent single-minded abstinent France have won. Mon dieu! Why was I not there? With one impassioned foot firmly planted on the escarpment of Tel-el-Kebir, I would have kept these British brutes at bay. I would have quoted one of my rhythmic poems, and they would have piled arms, awe-stricken and listened. Or, perhaps, these island savages in their ignorance, would have shot me. They are sufficiently unrefined for that. Ah! the thought is too dreadful. France, my beloved France, would in such a case have died also, for with me will perish all the ideas which go to make a great race—Adolphe, bring me a cigarette and a café noir. I would be calm.
The Ninety-nine Guardsmen.
By Alexandre Dumas.
This parody, which is to be found in Bret Harte’s Sensation Novels Condensed is an ingenious mixture of “The Three Musqueteers” and “The Vicomte de Bragelonne.”
The second chapter is the best:—
Chapter II.
THE COMBAT.
On leaving Provins the first musketeer proceeded to Nangis, where he was reinforced by thirty-three followers. The second musketeer, arriving at Nangis at the same moment, placed himself at the head of thirty-three more. The third guest of the landlord of Provins arrived at Nangis in time to assemble together thirty-three other musketeers.
The first stranger led the troops of his Eminence.
The second led the troops of the Queen.
The third led the troops of the King.
The fight commenced. It raged terribly for seven hours. The first musketeer killed thirty of the Queen’s troops. The second musketeer killed thirty of the King’s troops. The third musketeer killed thirty of his Eminence’s troops.
By this time it will be perceived the number of musketeers had been narrowed down to four on each side.
Naturally the three principal warriors approached each other.
They simultaneously uttered a cry:
“Aramis!”
“Athos!”
“D’Artagnan!”
They fell into each others arms.
“And it seems that we are fighting against each other, my children,” said the Count de la Fere, mournfully.
“How singular!” exclaimed Aramis and D’Artagnan.
“Let us stop this fratricidal warfare,” said Athos.
“We will!” they exclaimed together.
“But how to disband our followers?” queried D’Artagnan.
Aramis winked. They understood each other. “Let us cut ’em down!”
They cut ’em down. Aramis killed three. D’Artagnan three. Athos three.
The friends again embraced. “How like old times!” said Aramis. “How touching!” exclaimed the serious and philosophic Count de la Fere.
The galloping of hoofs caused them to withdraw from each other’s embraces. A gigantic figure rapidly approached.
“The innkeeper of Provins!” they cried, drawing their swords.
“Perigord, down with him!” shouted D’Artagnan.
“Stay,” said Athos.
The gigantic figure was beside them. He uttered a cry.
“Athos, Aramis, D’Artagnan!”
“Porthos!” exclaimed the astonished trio.
“The same.” They all fell in each other’s arms.
The Count de la Fere slowly raised his hands to Heaven. “Bless you! Bless us, my children! However different our opinions may be in regard to politics, we have but one opinion in regard to our own merits. Where can you find a better man than Aramis?”
“Than Porthos?” said Aramis.
“Than D’Artagnan?” said Porthos.
“Than Athos?” said D’Artagnan.
——:o:——
Eugene Sue.
Sir Brown: A mystery of London, by Mons. Dernier Sou. (Illustrated). See The Shilling Book of Beauty by Cuthbert Bede.
Parodie du Juif Errant, par Ch. Philipon et Louis Huart. 300 Vignettes par Cham. Bruxelles, 1845. This 251 is a remarkable book, it consists of 291 pages octavo, and the illustrations are very droll.
This was translated, and published in London, 1846, by E. Appleyard, under the title The Parody of the Wandering Jew by Charles Philipon and Louis Huart.
The first four chapters contained some copies of the illustrations of Cham very badly executed, the other half of the book had no illustrations.
IZAAK WALTON’S COMPLETE(LY) DONE ANGLER.
Ghost of Piscator. Ghost of Viator.
Viator. Whither away, Master? A good morning to you! I have stretched my legs to catch the train to Tottenham and here I find you with rod and basket, as of old.
Piscator. Faith, Scholar, I have even been too long an angler with Nero, in the lake of darkness, and would fain take a chub, Tottenham way, and see mine old haunts.
Viator. Then have with you, Master; and I do mind me of pretty Maudlin that hereabouts would sing us, “Come, Shepherds, deck your heads!”
Piscator. Ay, Scholar, methinks Maudlin was the Siren that led thee to the River Lea more than all my wisdom. But here we are got to Tottenham, and to the waterside.
Viator. Oh, oh, Master, what place is this, and what smell cometh to my nostrils? See, see, Master, here be no chub, but two dead dogs and one departed cat!
Piscator. In sooth, Scholar, the country seemeth strange, and no man may live, nor fish neither, hard by such an open sewer. Can this be the Lea! Nay, Scholars, this is no place for honest anglers more. But hither walks Corydon. Let us ask him what makes this blackness in the water, and the smell that abides here, as they say frankincense and myrrh do cling, more sweetly, to the shores of the blessed Arabia. What ho, Corydon, what cheer?
Corydon.[54] Sir, the condition of the River Lea is something really fearful. From Tottenham downwards the water is a mere open sewer, emitting the most noxious exhalations. Boating and bathing have ceased, and the River is now only a danger to the neighbourhood.
Piscator. Say you so? And what maketh that it should be so?
Corydon. Ah, Master, the drainage of Tottenham is turned bodily into the stream, and, in spite of Local Boards, the nuisance continues unaltered.
Piscator. And why right they not this wrong; for, marry, the poor folk here will die, and a pestilence be bred, if ye live not more cleanly.
Corydon. Sir, no man knows this better than the Tottenham Authorities themselves, who cause a horrible, disgusting nuisance to the dwellers on the Lea. They simply sow disease broadcast among thousands of helpless people, to save the expenditure of a certain sum of money.
Piscator. Penny wise, and pound foolish—penny wise, and pound foolish! Soon shall we have the Great Plague here again, and none to blame but the chuckled-headed “Authorities,” my Masters! Come away, Scholars, come away. The silver Lea is bedraggled. ’Tis no place for peaceful ghosts, that would be quiet, and go a-fishing.
[They vanish.
Punch. August, 15, 1885.
The Incompleat Angler, after Master Isaak Walton, by F. C. Burnand, also appeared in Punch. It was afterwards published in book form by Bradbury Agnew & Co., London, in 1876, and again, with numerous illustrations by Harry Furniss, in 1887.
Walton’s Angler Imitated, in several Parts, another parody, appeared in Punch and Judy, London, 1869.
——:o:——
LORD LYTTON.
In Volume V. of this Collection, (p. 222) parodies upon Lord Lytton’s Poems and Plays were given, burlesques upon his prose works remain to be noted.
Praises of the Ideal, the Beautiful, the True, and the Virtuous, abound in Lord Lytton’s Novels, of which desirable qualities his own life and character were singularly destitute.
Tennyson satirised him as a fop, whilst Thackeray treated him with well-merited ridicule and contempt, both in the “Epistles to the Literati,” and in “Novels by Eminent Hands.” The latter series originally appeared in Punch, and the parody of Lytton was entitled “George de Barnwell.” In this, a paltry thief and murderer was elevated into a hero, in much the same manner that Lytton had treated Eugene Aram.
It is quite unnecessary to give any extract from this well-known and accessible burlesque.
In connection with Thackeray’s well-known burlesque criticism on The Sea Captain by Lord Lytton (p. 225. Vol. V.) it should be mentioned that when that play was reproduced at the Lyceum Theatre under the lessee-ship of Mr. E. T. Smith, a continuation of Thackeray’s criticism appeared in The Mask, London, November 1868.
In this Thackeray’s style and orthography were mimicked, and Mr. Bandmann, who took the part of the prating hero Vivyan, was severely criticised for his stagey acting.
The Sea Captain had been damned in 1839, and The Rightful Heir scarcely merited a better fate, but it gave rise to a splendid burlesque, The Frightful Hair, by F. C. Burnand produced at The Haymarket Theatre, in December 1868, with Compton, Kendal, and Miss Ione Burke in the Cast.
The Diamond Death.
By Sir Pelham Little Bulwer, Bart.
Alphonsine Fleury, modiste of Paris, determined that she should die. And, all things considered, it was hardly wonderful that the pretty little girl should come to such a conclusion. Poor child. Fickle woman! Thou hast hardly known Life these eighteen winters, and, yet, would’st be already toying with his brother Death! Die, then, child, if such be thy will. Facilis descensus Averni.
Everybody must admit that she had reason. She called him her lover, that false and whiskered Jules, hero of the barricades, best polker at the Chaumière. And he had sworn to love her, and perhaps he meant it. For between Truth and Falsehood, there lies the Paradise of the 252 Purposeless (shrouded, as the Doric poets sing, in a sapphire cloud), and there are kept the vows which expire on earth for lack of the vivifying presence of the undying Earnest.
Jules was false, and Alphonsine would die. But when one has decided on doing a thing, one has still to decide on the way of doing it. And in regard to dying, one ought really to be careful; because (so far as one sees) there is no way, if one does it awkwardly, of repairing the blunder. The Biggest can die but once. There ran the Seine, and the Pont-Neuf was toll-less, which was a consideration, as Alphonsine’s last sou had gone to purchase her last roll. But the Seine was so muddy, and then the Morgue, and its wet marble. The poor child shuddered at the thought. And the costume, too, for she was French, and, moreover, had instinctive delicacy. Clearly not the Seine.
The towers of Notre Dame. Better, certainly; and she would go rushing into the arms of Death, with a heart full of Victor Hugo, Peer of France. But no! Why, she had been quite ill going down one of the montagnes Russes at the last carnival, even though Jules had held her in the car. She would never be able to look down from the giant tower. Could it shake its grim head and hurl her quivering away, it might be done. But a leap thence! M. D. Lamartine himself never dreamed of such a Chute d’un ange.
Poison. But Jules had taken her to see Frederic Lemaitre, poisoned by la Dame de St. Tropez. His contortions under the arsenic—quel horreur! There would be nobody to see her make faces, certainly, but what of that? Is one to lose all self-respect because one is going to kill oneself? Alphonsine’s mind rejected the poison.
It should be charcoal. Certainly, charcoal. Alphonsine would die like a Countess who had betrayed her husband, gambled away her fortune, and found a pimple on her nose. It was a lady’s death; and Alphonsine, a skilful little milliner, had been among ladies until she had taken measure of their minds as well as of their waists. So she would leave the world gracefully, and comme il faut.
Glow, thou ebon incense for the Altar of Doom; glow in thy little censer there beside her, in other days the lid of her saucepan. Glow, for there lies the poor child, Bride of Death, expectant of her Bridegroom. She has arrayed her mansarde so neatly, that, when the rough Commissaires de Police force the door, they will pause upon the threshold—perhaps touch their hats. And she lies with clasped hands, and upon her maiden bosom rests a daguerreotype of her faithless lover. Glow, dark charcoal, glow, and let thy fames waft her spirit from this cold world, to realms where Anteros smiles upon the True and the Beautiful.
She is dying. But, O kindly Mother of the Dead, thou sendest through the Portal of Ivory a gentle Dream. Through the closing eyes of Alphonsine that Dream looks forth, and its look falls upon that glowing censer, which glares like the eye of a Demon. Full into that Demon-eye looks the Dream, unscared, and what sees it there? Alphonsine dreams that a mighty and a pitying Voice hath come forth from the Treasure-house of Fate, and hath said unto that fiery charcoal, Be as thou wert wont to be.
The modest charcoal knows its Lord, and blushes. Then, suddenly paling its fires, they soften into crystal light; and as they subside, the charcoal glitters in its other and more glorious form, the Diamond! Countless treasures roll at the feet of the expiring Alphonsine. * * *
Expiring?—Oh, no! The world has rose-joy for her yet. Jules, repentant and terrified, has shattered her door, has dashed her window into air, has kicked her charcoal to earth: and as he restores her to life with cold water and warm kisses, he shows her a ticket for them both for to-night’s Bal Masqué.
Clouds and sunrays, ye are Life! But beyond, beyond, whirls and roars the dread Maelstrom of Inexplicability.
The Puppet Showman’s Album. London. No date.
The Dweller of the Threshold.
By Sir Ed-d L-tt-n B-lw-r.
BOOK I.
The Promptings of the Ideal.
It was noon, Sir Edward had stepped from his brougham and was proceeding on foot down the Strand. He was dressed with his usual faultless taste, but in alighting from his vehicle his foot had slipped, and a small round disc of conglomerated soil, which instantly appeared on his high arched instep, marred the harmonious glitter of his boots. Sir Edward was fastidious. Casting his eyes around, at a little distance he perceived the stand of a youthful bootblack. Thither he sauntered, and carelessly placing his foot on the low stool, he waited the application of the polisher’s Art. “Tis true,” said Sir Edward to himself, yet half aloud, “the contact of the Foul and the Disgusting mars the general effect of the Shiny and the Beautiful—and yet, why am I here? I repeat it, calmly and deliberately—why am I here? Ha! Boy!”
The Boy looked up—his dark Italian eyes glanced intelligently at the Philosopher, and, as with one hand he tossed back his glossy curls from his marble brow, and with the other he spread the equally glossy Day and Martin over the Baronet’s boot, he answered in deep rich tones: “The Ideal is subjective to the Real. The exercise of apperception gives a distinctiveness to idiocracy, which is, however, subject to the limits of Me. You are an admirer of the Beautiful, sir. You wish your boots blacked. The Beautiful is attainable by means of the Coin.”
“Ah,” said Sir Edward thoughtfully, gazing upon the almost supernal beauty of the Child before him; “you speak well. You have read Kant.”
The Boy blushed deeply. He drew a copy of Kant from his bosom, but in his confusion several other volumes dropped from his bosom on the ground. The Baronet picked them up.
“Ah!” said the Philosopher, “what’s this? Cicero’s De Senectute, and at your age, too? Martial’s Epigrams, Cæsar’s Commentaries. What! a classical scholar?”
“E pluribus Unum. Nux vomica. Nil desperandum. Nihil fit!” said the Boy, enthusiastically. The Philosopher gazed at the Child. A strange presence seemed to transfuse and possess him. Over the brow of the Boy glittered the pale nimbus of the Student.
“Ah, and Schiller’s Robbers too?” queried the Philosopher.
“Das ist ausgespielt,” said the Boy modestly.
“Then you have read my translation of Schiller’s Ballads?” continued the Baronet, with some show of interest.
“I have, and infinitely prefer them to the original,” said the Boy with intellectual warmth. “You have shown how in Actual life we strive for a Goal we cannot reach; how in the Ideal the Goal is attainable, and there effort is victory. You have given us the Antithesis which is a key to the Remainder, and constantly balances before us the conditions of the Actual and the privileges of the Ideal.”
“My very words,” said the Baronet; “wonderful, wonderful!” and he gazed fondly at the Italian boy, who again resumed his menial employment. Alas! the wings of the Ideal were folded. The Student had been absorbed in the Boy.
But Sir Edward’s boots were blacked, and he turned to depart. Placing his hand upon the clustering tendrils that surrounded the classic nob of the infant Italian, he said softly, like a strain of distant music:
“Boy, you have done well. Love the Good. Protect the Innocent. Provide for The Indigent. Respect the Philosopher.”... “Stay! Can you tell me what is The True, The Beautiful, The Innocent, The Virtuous?”
253 “They are things that commence with a capital letter,” said the Boy, promptly.
“Enough! Respect everything that commences with a capital letter! Respect Me!” and dropping a halfpenny in the hand of the Boy, he departed.
The Boy gazed fixedly at the coin. A frightful and instantaneous change overspread his features. His noble brow was corrugated with baser lines of calculation. His black eye, serpent-like, glittered with suppressed passion. Dropping upon his hands and feet, he crawled to the curbstone and hissed after the retreating form of the Baronet, the single word:
“Bilk!”
* * * * *
There are three more Chapters of this amusing parody to be found in Bret Harte’s Sensation Novels Condensed.
Another imitation of Lytton’s prose was published in The Individual November 8, 1836 (Cambridge), but it is not of sufficient interest to reprint.
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LORD CHESTERFIELD.
Chesterfield Travestie; or School for Modern Manners. Anonymous. Dedicated to George Colman, whose name is incorrectly spelt “Coleman,” on the title page. London, Thomas Tegg, 1808.
This has ten Caricatures drawn by Rowlandson. A later and enlarged edition was published entitled Chesterfield Burlesqued.
Lady Chesterfield’s Letters to her Daughter, by George Augustus Sala. London, Houlston and Wright, 1860.
The first edition of this humorous, but rather lengthy burlesque (it consists of fourteen chapters), contains many excellent woodcuts by Phiz, and is now very scarce.
Good Manners; or, the Art of being Agreeable.
(Being Maxims and Extracts from Lord Jesterfield’s Letters.)[55]
On Conversation.—The basis of all conversation is Flat Contradiction. The flatter and the stronger the contradiction, the more certain and secure is the basis on which the structure of Conversation is to rise.
Where there is no contradiction, “nothing more need be said,” and consequently there and then is an end of all conversation.
The word conversation in itself expresses and implies an assertion of a fact and a denial. It is compounded of two Latin words, “verso” to turn, and “con” together, and means, therefore, two people turning together, or having “a turn at one another,” or a “set-to.” Were everybody to agree with everybody else, it is evident that there would be no matter for discussion, and, therefore, no real conversation.
Persons in love, who are, for the time being, in perfect agreement with each other, never converse. They can’t. It is from this universally-observed fact that in every language may be found the significant proverb, “Silence gives consent,” i.e., where all agree there is, as we have said, no conversation.
A knowledge of Human Nature is absolutely necessary for the cultivation of good manners, and for getting oneself generally liked in all sorts and varieties of Society.—This is an extensive subject, but its study will well repay the most attentive perusal:—
Rules and Advice.—In whatever society you may be, a moderate share of penetration will enable you to find out everybody’s weak points. You may not hit upon them all at once, but make your own private list, and then try them all round. Enter any room as though you were a general practitioner called in to pronounce on everybody’s ailments. You do not want to see their tongues, but only hear how they use them. You can feel the pulse of each one discreetly.
How to make yourself Agreeable with a Nouveau Riche.—Be playfully familiar. Lower yourself to his level; so as not to appear proud of your superior birth and training. Ascertain how he made his money, what was his origin; and, if unable to discover what he sprang from, you can make a safe guess in supposing him to have been a scavenger, a dustman, or as boy engaged in sweeping out an office (many illustrious men who have discharged the highest offices, may have themselves been discharged from the lowest offices for not having kept them clean and tidy), and on this supposition you can at once address him, and proceed to compare his former state of abject poverty with his present apparently inexhaustible wealth, a subject that must afford him the greatest possible pleasure, especially in a mixed company.
* * * * *
Punch. April 26, 1884.
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THOMAS DE QUINCEY.
His extraordinary work The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater published in 1822, (having originally appeared in the London Magazine), was the subject of an exceedingly clever parody in Blackwood for December, 1856, attributed to the pen of Sir E. G. Hamley.
254 “A Recent Confession of an Opium-Eater” tells how the O.E., somewhere about the year 1828, found himself in the sixteenth storey of a house in the old town of Edinburgh in company with three most unprepossessing personages, one of the feminine gender. He is at first disposed to entertain a favourable opinion of the intellectual status of his entertainers by the sympathising reception accorded to some appreciative remarks offered by him on the greatness of Burke, but afterwards sees reason to question whether their Burke and his were the same person. By-and-by it becomes apparent that his companions are intent upon drugging him. The idea of anyone presuming to hocus the opium-eater tickles his fancy immensely; he enters into the joke, toasts his hosts in laudanum, and obliges them to respond, and in due time has them all under the table. As he goes down-stairs, a little misadventure occurs with a candle, and by next morning the sixteen storeys and the occupants have entirely disappeared. The style of the parody is excellent, a compound of the Opium-Eater and “Murder considered as one of the Fine Arts.”
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LADY MORGAN.
As a specimen of her eccentric style take the following passage from “The Wild Irish Girl:” “I was chez moi, inhaling the odeur musquée of my scented boudoir, when the Prince de Z—— entered. He found me in my demi-toilette blasée sur tout, and pensively engaged in solitary conjugation of the verb s’ennuyer, and, though he had never been one of my habitués, or by any means des nôtres, I was not disinclined, at this moment of délassement, to glide with him into the crocchio ristretto of familiar chat.” The above has been done into French by M. H. Cocheris in the following style: “J’etais at home, aspirant la musky smell de mon private room lorsque le Prince Z—— entra. Il me trouva en simple dress, fatigued with everything, tristement occupée à conjuguer le verbe to be weary, et quoique je ne l’eusse jamais compté au nombre de mes intimates, et qu’il n’etait, en aucune façon, of our set, j’etais assez disposée à entrer avec lui dans le crocchio ristretto d’une causerie familière.”
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ARCHIBALD FORBES.
An American paper has the following amusing burlesque of Mr. Archibald Forbes’ style. Mr. Forbes is supposed to be replying to the toast of the English press. “Mr. Chairman—I am Mr. Archibald Forbes. I have been everywhere. I have done everything. I am a very smart fellow. I am not to be out-done. I know the Emperor of China. I know the King of the Cannibal Islands. I am intimately acquainted with the Grand Llama. I have lived with the Shah of Persia. I am the dearest friend of the Emperor of Russia.” The report comes abruptly to an end with the editorial remark. “Here our sorts of I’s gave out.”
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COOKERY BOOKS.
During the Crimean War, when there was a great outcry about the starving condition of our troops, and the utter breakdown of the Commissariat, the following parody on Mr. A. Soyer’s cookery book appeared in “Our Miscellany,” by Yates and Brough:—
Camp Cookery.
By Alicksus Sawder
To boil cabbage.—It is necessary to procure a cabbage. Wash in cold water; which, throw down a gutter, or outside a tent if no gutter be procurable. Be careful not to splash trousers, especially in frosty weather. Stick a two-pronged fork boldly into the cabbage (a bayonet will do equally well), and plunge it into a saucepan of water just at boiling point. When it has boiled for eight minutes, twenty-five seconds, throw eleven-fifteenths of a teaspoonful of salt into the water. Let the cabbage boil till it is thoroughly done. At that moment be on the watch to take it out of the saucepan (taking care to avert the face from the steam), and place in a vegetable dish. Put the cover on, and serve up with roast beef, ortolans, venison, pickled pork, or whatever may come handiest. An old helmet will supply the place of a saucepan. Cauliflowers may be cooked in the same manner; and, indeed, most things.
To fry Bacon.—Cut your bacon into long strips, or rashers. Wipe your frying-pan out with a coarse towel, or lining of old dressing-gown. Then place it gently (so as not to knock the bottom out) over a brisk fire. Place the rashers in, one by one. When they are done on one side, turn them over to do on the other. When they have attained a rich brown, take them out and arrange them on a dish, or slice of bread, or anything. Watch your rashers, so that the sentinel outside doesn’t get at them; and eat when you feel inclined. The gravy may be sopped up from the frying-pan with crumbs of bread. If only biscuit is to be obtained, use the fingers, which lick carefully. The rind may be preserved in the waistcoat pocket, for sucking while on duty.
Roast Potatoes.—Put your potatoes under the stove, and rake hot embers over them. While they are cooking get as much butter as the commissariat will allow you, and put it on a clean dish, or, a dirty one, with half a sheet of writing-paper on it (indeed, in an extreme case, the writing-paper will enable you to dispense with the dish altogether). Taste the butter, but don’t eat it all up till the potatoes are done. Great care will be required for the observance of the latter regulation. Cut the butter into dice of from six to seven-eighths of a cubic inch. When the potatoes are done, cut them open and insert a dice of butter in each, closing the potato rapidly to prevent evaporation. Eat with pepper and salt, or whatever you can get.
Another Method.—If you can’t get any butter, do without it.
Potatoes and Point.—This is a very popular dish in Ireland, and one which I have frequently partaken of in that country. The method of preparing it in the Crimea is as follows:—Boil a dish of potatoes, and serve up hot, with a watch-glass full of powdered salt. When they are ready for eating, point, with the fore-finger of the right hand, in a north-westerly direction, where the regions of beef are supposed to exist.
* * * * *
There was also an old parody, by Dr. King, on The Art of Cookery.
The Military Cookery-Book.
How to make a Recruit.—Take a raw lad from the country (the younger the better) and fill his head with military froth. Add a shilling and as much beer as will be covered by the bounty-money. Let him simmer, and serve him up thick before a Magistrate the next morning. Let him be sworn in, and he then will be nicely done.
How to make a Soldier.—Take your recruit, and thrust him roughly into a depôt. Mix him up well with recruits from other regiments until he has lost any esprit de corps which may have been floating upon the surface when he enlisted. Now let him lie idle for a few years until his 255 strength is exhausted, and then, at ten minutes’ notice, pack him off to India.
Another Method.—Take your recruit, and place him at headquarters. Let him mix freely with all the bad characters that have been carefully kept in the regiment, until his nature has become assimilated to theirs. For three years pay him rather less than a ploughboy’s wages, and make him work rather harder than a costermonger’s donkey. Your soldier having now reached perfection, you will turn him out of the Service with Economical Dressing.
How to make a Deserter.—A very simple and popular dish. Take a soldier, see that he is perfectly free from any mark by which he may be identified, and fill his head with grievances. Now add a little opportunity, and you have, or, rather, you have not, your deserter.
Another and Simpler Method.—Take a recruit, without inquiring into his antecedents. Give him his kit and bounty-money and close your eyes. The same recruit may be used for this dish (which will be found to be a fine military hash) any number of times.
How to make an Army.—Take a few scores of Infantry Regiments and carefully proceed to under-man them. Add some troopers without horses, and some batteries without guns. Throw in a number of unattached Generals, and serve up the whole with a plentiful supply of Control Mixture.
Another and Easier Method.—Get a little ink, a pen, and a sheet of paper. Now dip your pen in the ink, and with it trace figures upon your sheet of paper. The accompaniment to this dish is usually hot water.
How to make a Panic.—Take one or two influential newspapers in the dead season of the year, and fill them with smartly written letters. Add a few pointed leading articles, and pull your Army into pieces. Let the whole simmer until the opening of Parliament. This once popular mess is now found to be rather insipid, unless it is produced nicely garnished with plenty of Continental sauce, mixed with just an idea of Invasion relish. With these zests, however, it is always found to be toothsome, although extremely expensive.
Punch. November 21, 1874.
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Henry Labouchere and Edmund Yates.
It is customary for the Editors of Truth and The World to publish the latest on dits of Society, and each delights in contradicting the other on little matters of detail. This sport does not much interest the general public, but it appears to afford great amusement to the two Editors. Some of their paragraphs are scarcely less absurd than the following:—
[“Henry” has promised that he will go and see “Edmund” in Holloway Prison.]
Extract I. (From “Truth.”)
“I made a pilgrimage to Holloway Castle one day last week, and was pleased to find poor Edmund in excellent spirits. He was lounging in a handsomely upholstered chair from Gillow’s, while he smoked a capital Manilla.From “Truth.” In the course of our conversation, I learnt that it is his intention to publish a volume of ‘Prison Recollections’ when he again emerges into the outer world. Edmund has lost flesh, but is otherwise in his usual health.”
Extract II. (From “The World.”)
“Really, Henry, I am getting quite tired of correcting your blunders. The chair in which you found me seated was supplied to me by Maple, whom I much prefer to Gillow. You have also put your foot in it about the cigar, which was an Intimidad and not a Manilla. Thirdly, I don’t intend to publish any ‘Prison Recollections;’ and as for my having lost flesh, that is pure rubbish. How can one lose flesh when one continues to feed as well as usual, and is at the same time obliged to drop one’s horse exercise in the Row?”
Extract III. (From “Truth.”)
“I have always maintained that you are far too impetuous, Edmund. Perhaps you are correct about your not having lost flesh, though I could have sworn that I counted one chin less than usual upon your face. I may also have been in error regarding the ‘Recollections’ and the chair, but I cannot for a moment admit that your Manilla was an Intimidad. You are no judge of tobacco. I am, and the illustrated advertisement of Somebody’s cigarettes is sufficient proof of the fact.”
Extract IV. (From “The World.”)
“Upon certain subjects, Henry, pig-headed ass is not the name for you. Don’t visit me again, please.”
Extract V. (From “Truth.”)
“Catch me at it, my dear Edmund.”
Funny Folks, January 31, 1885.
——:o:——
The Real Little Lord Fauntleroy.
A short parody, having the above title appeared in Punch, May 19, 1888, with an illustration by Linley Sambourne, representing Lord Randolph Churchill, and the Duke of Cambridge. At the time it appeared Lord Randolph was posing as an advocate of Retrenchment and Reform. That a member of the Marlborough family of national bloodsuckers should appear as the advocate of economy was a joke that was far too good to last, and Lord Randolph having remained in the cabinet long enough to earn a pension, found it convenient to resign.
(An imaginary conversation. With apologies to Mrs. F. H. Burnett.)
And then the Duke looked up.
What Little Grandolph saw was a portly old man, with scanty white hair and bushy whiskers, and a nose like a florid bulb between his prominent imperious eyes.
What the Duke saw was a smart, small figure in a jaunt, suit, with a large collar, and with trim, accurately-parted locks curved carefully about the curiously canine little face whose equally protuberant eyes met his with a look of—well, perhaps the Duke would have found it difficult exactly to define the character of that look, but it combined in an emphatic way the interrogative and the ironical.
It was thought that Little Lord Fauntleroy was himself rather like a small copy of a grander and older original, and he himself was supposed to be well aware of the fact. But there was a sudden glow of emotion in the irascible old Duke’s face as he saw what a sturdy, self-confident little fellow Lord Fauntleroy was, and how unhesitatingly he stood to his guns in all circumstances. It moved the grim old nobleman that the youngster should show no shyness or fear, either of the situation or of himself.
“Are you the Duke?” he said. “I’m a Duke’s son, you see, and know something about such things. I’m Lord Grandolph Fauntleroy.”
He nodded affably, because he knew it to be the polite and proper thing to do, even from young and clever Lords to old and (the adjective he mentally used may be suppressed) 256 Dukes. “I hope you—and the Army—are all right,” he continued, with the utmost airiness. “I’m very glad to see you here.”
“Glad to see me, are you?” said the Duke.
“Yes,” answered Lord Fauntleroy, “very.”
There was a chair at the head of the table, and he sat down on it; it was a big chair, and, physically, he hardly filled it perhaps; but he seemed quite at his ease as he sat there, and regarded a Monarch’s august relative intently and confidently.
“I’ve often wondered what a Commander-in-Chief would look like when being cross-examined,” he remarked. “I’ve wondered whether he’d be anything like my great ancestor of the Queen Anne epoch.”
“Am I?” asked the Duke.
“Well,” Grandolph replied, “I’ve only seen pictures of him, of course, and I can’t exactly say how he would have looked in a similar case, but I don’t think you are much like him.”
“You are disappointed, I suppose?” suggested his august interlocutor.
“Oh no!” replied Grandolph, politely. “Of course you would like any great military contemporary to look like your own illustrious ancestor; but of course you might admire the way your great military contemporary looked, even if he wasn’t like your illustrious ancestor. You know how it is yourself, about admiring your contemporaries.”
The Duke stared. He could hardly be said to know how it was about admiring his contemporaries, many of whom he didn’t admire at all, and some of whom did not altogether admire him.
“Well, and how’s our bit of an Army getting on?” asked little Lord Fauntleroy, airily.
“Our—bit—of—an—Army?” repeated the Duke, in a scattered sort of way.
“Yes,” explained Grandolph, “the bit of an Army we pay such a pile of money for?”
“Ha!” ejaculated his Lordship. “That’s it, is it? The money isn’t spent as you like. You’d like to have the spending of it. What would you buy with it? I should like to hear something about that.”
“Doubtless,” replied Lord Fauntleroy, coolly. “Some day you may. At present I’m asking questions, and your business is to answer them.”
“The D——!” began the Duke, hotly.
“Quite so—the D—— etails,” interjected Little Lord Fauntleroy, blandly. “As you were doubtless about to say, the details are the things! All very well to say in a general sort of way that the Army is going to—its usual destination, Duke; that Party Spirit and Financial Cheese-paring are the cause of it, and that more men and money are urgently required. That won’t do for me. I want to know—so does the Country—much more than that. How? Why? What? When? How many? How much? These, my dear Duke, are the pertinent questions to which we—the Country and I—demand precise answers. When we get them, instead of vague denunciation and big D’s, we shall know what to do.”
The sensations of his Royal Highness the Duke, could scarcely be described. He was not an old nobleman who was very easily taken aback, because he had seen a great deal of the official world; but here was something he found so novel that it almost took his lordly breath away, and caused him some singular emotions. A civilian had always seemed to him a most objectionable creature—impertinent, parsimonious, and with inadequate conceptions of discipline. But this composed, precise, insolently interrogative little personage was a portent. The Duke’s martinet manner was quite shaken by this startling surprise.
* * * * *
The Standard (London) in 1885 ventured to criticise the political character and conduct of Lord Randolph Churchill, but three years later it contained an article which read like a parody of its former utterances about this Boulanger of the Fourth Party:—
(From the Standard,
July 31, 1885.)
It is time to speak plainly. Lord Randolph Churchill has been puffed by his friends in the daily and weekly press with admirable assiduity. He has dined with them and they have dined with him, and the well-organised claque are ready to cry “Prodigious!” whenever he opens his mouth. But it is all in vain. We no longer live in days when the public can be gulled by such arts.… The truth is, that Lord Randolph Churchill is a much over-rated man. He is now verging upon middle-age and has reached a time of life when even flighty minds ought to sober down. But this is what he cannot do. His almost incredible ignorance of affairs, his boyish delight in offering the crudest insults to men who have been fifty years in the service of the State, his pranks, his blunders, are ceasing to amuse.… Instead of his being broken in by his colleagues, his colleagues have been broken in by him, and he has been able to make them adopt as the deliberate and well-digested convictions of sagacious and practical Englishmen, the crude conceits of a political neophyte, which his own little Senate labour hard to represent as the language of a new Tory gospel.… We will follow Lord Salisbury, but we will not be governed by a sort of overgrown schoolboy, who thinks he is witty when he is only impudent, and who really does not seem to possess sufficient knowledge even to fathom the depths of his own ignorance of everything worthy of the name of statesmanship.
(From the Standard,
July 29, 1888.)
The interest excited by the other appointments sinks into nothing compared with that which must be felt in the promotion of Lord R. Churchill to the Chancellorship of the Exchequer and the leadership of the House of Commons. There is, doubtless, much that may be said against the appointment to so responsible a position of one who has had so brief an experience of official life, and who has hitherto been more remarkable for brilliancy than discretion. On the other hand, Lord Randolph Churchill possesses the debating power and the dauntless spirit which are indispensable to a successful leader. There are times and seasons when self-confidence, readiness, and a command of that pungent rhetoric which often tells better in the House of Commons than the closest and most judicial argument, are of more service to a party than any other qualities which a Parliamentary statesman can possess. Lord Randolph Churchill moreover, is eminently popular with “the masses,” and so far has a title to confront Mr. Gladstone which no other man on the Conservative side of the House can show. In short, he is an orator and a wit; and in a popular assembly these are titles to pre-eminence which it is not very easy to dispute. It remains for Lord Randolph Churchill to demonstrate that the great confidence that has been reposed in him has not been misplaced.
Taken in connection with the above extracts, 257 it is amusing to read the leader which appeared in The Standard, July 31, 1889:—
Lord Randolph Churchill used his opportunities at Birmingham yesterday to illustrate, on a more ambitious scale than he has yet attempted, his constitutional incapacity for public life. A Statesman should be discreet; and even the hack politician is expected to be loyal to his associates. Lord Randolph has been at some pains to prove that no colleagues can trust him, and that no school of opinion can rely upon him for six weeks together. He made several speeches yesterday, and discussed at considerable length, and with an air of dogmatic assurance, a variety of topics. But the miscellaneous heads were all firmly held together by one pervading principle. Lord Randolph Churchill, his position and prospects, and the supreme importance of improving both at any cost, constituted the informing element of the whole medley. It does not, of course, follow that because Lord Randolph played a selfish game, he played a wise one. His addresses, we imagine, will strike him as poor reading by daylight. Even in the atmosphere of the City Hall, the reception was not altogether encouraging. It is not flattering to an orator to find that sayings which he meant to be oracular provoked merriment; that his serious things were taken as jokes and his jokes as serious things; and that solemn declarations of policy, which were designed to draw ringing cheers, were listened to in chilling silence, or, still worse, excited immediate and emphatic protest.
——:o:——
H. Rider Haggard.
He, by the author of “It,” “King Solomon’s Wives,” “Bess,” and other Romances. London, Longmans, Green and Co., 1887. This, of course, is a parody of “She; a History of Adventure,” by H. Rider Haggard, author of “King Solomon’s mines,” etc. Also published by Longmans and Co. London.
She was also dramatised, and produced at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in September, 1888.
Punch had a humorous skit on this adaptation (September 15, 1888) entitled “She-that-ought-not-to-be-played! A Story of Gloomy Gaiety.”
A burlesque of “She” had also previously appeared in Punch, February 26, 1887, entitled “Hee! Hee!” by Walker Weird, author of “Solomon’s Ewers.”
American publishers not only pirated the popular works of Mr. Rider Haggard, but one firm proceeded to father upon him a work of which he knew nothing. This was entitled “Me, a companion to She.” By H. Rider Haggard; published by Butler Brothers, of New York and Chicago. In justice to that firm, however, it must be said that they withdrew the work from circulation as soon as they discovered that Mr. Haggard objected to having his name coupled with it. Copies of this are consequently very difficult to procure.
King Solomon’s Wives; or, The Phantom Mines. By Hyder Ragged. With numerous illustrations by Linley Sambourne. London, Vizetelly and Co., 1887.
The jocular introduction to this is signed A. Quaterman.
——:o:——
Samuel Richardson.
It is well known that Fielding’s Joseph Andrews was written with the intention of ridiculing Richardson’s tediously moral novel Pamela, of which to a certain extent it is a parody, Joseph, the virtuous footman, being the brother of Pamela, and subjected to similar temptations. Fielding had a contempt for the priggish tone of Richardson’s works, and his ridicule succeeded in almost killing Pamela.
There was another curious attack on Richardson entitled “Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews, in which the Falsehoods of Pamela are Exposed, together with a full Account of all that passed between her and Parson Williams,” by Mr. Conny Keyber. 1741.
The History of Clorana, the Beautiful Arcadian, or Virtue Triumphant, 1737. (Pamela, with slight variations.)
——:o:——
MISS BRADDON.
Dr. Marchmont’s Misery.
This was a burlesque of “Lady Audley’s Secret” which appeared in Judy, 1868. It was written by Mr. Walter Parke. The following is an extract from this humorous work:—
Chapter xii.
Day had broken (though Martin was still solvent) and was casting brilliant Holborn Bars of light through the windows of Tredethlyn Abbey on to the artistic Phiz of Lady Aurorabella.
She was very very weary—tired of her own life, and of several other people’s lives, also she had not the heart to eat, and probably would not have eaten it if she had. Beyond trifling with the wing of a rabbit, cutting a morsel from a cold surloin of grouse, and drinking a single glass of Chiaroscuro, her breakfast was untouched.
For she had just received intelligence that, in spite of all her exertions, her Five Husbands were again at liberty!
“Oh! why did they not all perish?” she sobbed. “I have tried to get rid of them over and over again by every species of assassination, but now I am tired of mild measures. I must do something Desperate!”
So she summoned that ubiquitous detective officer, Inspector Weasel, who, from any quarter of the globe, would come by telegraph to obey her slightest word.
“Weasel” she said “I can endure this no longer, I have made a resolve. By the tyrannical laws of this hateful country, my quintette of husbands have been allowed to keep the marriage certificates. Once in possession of them, I could defy the world. If you value my peace or your own, you must get them for me.”
“I will,” replied the all accomplished detective and he set about it at once.
First, to pursue the fugitive Dr. Marchmont, “Ah” murmured the Detective “my experience tells me that when a fellow on the bolt says he is going to one place, he is certain to set off in exactly the opposite direction. Let me see,” And he carefully examined his Government survey of the World.
* * * * *
Inspector Weasel hastened to the Snoozington Railway Station.
“What time does the next train start for Kamtschatka?” “At 6.85,” was the reply.
The detective chafed with impatience. Two minutes to wait! It seemed an eternity-and-a-half to him! At length the train arrived and the detective jumped up behind the Engine Driver. “Off we go!” he cried, “bother stations, and signals, and all that sort of thing, never mind bursting the engine, or blowing up the passengers. I’m in a hurry!”
——:o:——
258THE POLITE LETTER WRITER.
At the distribution of prizes to the art classes at Chesterfield in November, 1880, the secretary read a communication purporting to come from Mr. John Ruskin, in answer to one asking him to give them a lecture. It was as follows:—
“Harlesden, London, Friday.
“My dear Sir,—Your letter reaches me here. I have just returned from Venice, where I have ruminated in the pasturages of the home of art; the loveliest and holiest of lovely and holy cities, where the very stones cry out, eloquent in the elegancies of Iambics. I could not if I would go to Chesterfield, and I much doubt whether I would go if I could. I do not hire myself out—after the fashion of a brainless long tongued puppet—for filthy ducats. You, and those who told you to write me, want me, I presume, to come that you may make money for your art class; and if I should get you much money, you will then tolerate some good advice from me. No, I will not come.
“I have heard of Chesterfield. Hath it not a steeple-abomination, and is it not the home—if not the cradle—of that arch abomination-creator, Stephenson? To him are we indebted for the screeching and howling and shrieking fiends fit only for a Pandemonium, called locomotives, that disfigure the loveliest spots of God’s own land.
“I will not come to Chesterfield. Tell your students that art is a holy luxury, and they must pay for it. Tell them to study, to ponder, and to work with a single thought for perfection, observing loving and strict obedience to the monitions of their teacher. Let them learn to do things rightly and humbly, and then, by the conviction that they can never do them as well as they have been done by others, they may be profited.
“My good young people, this is pre-eminently the foolishest—yes, quite the foolishest—notion that you can get into your empty little egg-shells of heads; that you can be a Titian, or a Raphael, or a Phidias; or that you can write like Seneca. But because you cannot be great, that is no reason why you should not aspire to greatness. In joy, humility, and humbleness, work together. Only don’t study art because it will pay, and do not ask for payment because you study art. Art will make you all wiser and happier, and is worth paying for. If you are in debt—as I suppose you are, or why pester me?—pay off your debts yourselves. If you write to me only that you may get money, you are on the foolishest of all errands. Wisdom is more precious than rubies, and is offered to you as a blessing in herself. She is the reward of industry, kindness and modesty. She is the prize of prizes, the strength of your life now, and an earnest of the life that is to come. This advice is better than money, and I give it to you gratis. Ponder it and profit by it.—Ever faithfully yours,
John Ruskin.”
Many were the comments which this letter, widely published, as it was, created; for scarcely any one doubted the authenticity of the letter addressed to Chesterfield, a name which recals that of a celebrated Earl who also wrote letters, but his were on the art of politeness.
But a few days afterwards Mr. Ruskin denied that he had composed the epistle; it is, therefore, only of interest now as so clever a parody of his style that the whole London press was deceived by it. The following letter, however, was certainly genuine. In June 1886, a circular was addressed to Mr. Ruskin appealing for subscriptions towards extinquishing the debt of the Baptist Church at Richmond, to which he replied:—
Sir,—I am sorrowfully amused at your appeal to me, of all people in the world the precisely least likely to give you a farthing. My first word to all men and boys who care to hear me is “Don’t get into debt. Starve, and go to heaven; but don’t borrow. Try first begging. I don’t mind, if it’s really needful, stealing. But don’t buy things you can’t pay for.” And of all manner of debtors, pious people building churches they can’t pay for are the most detestable nonsense to me. Can’t you preach and pray behind the hedges, or in a sandpit, or in a coal-hole first? And of all manner of churches thus idiotically built, iron churches are the damnablest to me. And of all the sects and believers in any ruling spirit, Hindoos, Turks, Feather Idolators, and Mumbo Jumbo Log and Fire Worshippers, who want churches, your modern English Evangelical sect is the most absurd and entirely objectionable and unendurable to me. All which you might very easily have found out from my books. Any other sort of sect would, before bothering me to write it to them.—Ever, nevertheless, and in all this saying, your faithful servant,
John Ruskin.
Having enumerated the most important parodies of our great novelists, and given such extracts as the limits of space would permit, it only remains to mention such other prose parodies of works of fiction, which are either of less merit in themselves, or mimic authors of less importance than those already dealt with. This list can only be approximately complete, as there are hundreds of such parodies buried away in the back numbers of the Magazines and Comic Journals.
W. Harrison Ainsworth.
The Age of Lawn Tennis. A fragment after Harrison Ainsworth’s “Rookwood.” See Tennis Cuts and Quips.
Old Temple Bar; by W, Harrissing Ainsworth. See The Puppet Showman’s Album.
Blueacre. A Romance, by W. Harrising Painsworth. See Our Miscellany, by E. H. Yates and R. B. Brough.
William Black.
In Silk Attire. By W——m B——k. See The Tomahawk, July 17, 1869.
There was also a parody of Mr. Black, in The World.
A Princess of Lundy. By W——m B——k. See Ben D’Ymion and other Novelettes, by H. F. Lester. London, Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1887.
This volume also contains:—
Muddlemarsh, by George Eliot.
The Portrait of a Hybrid, by Henry James.
A Rustic Zenobia, by Thomas Hardy.
James Fribblesaint, by J. H Shorthouse.
Portraits of Children of the Mobility, drawn from Nature, with Memoirs and Characteristic Sketches by the Author of the “Comic English Grammar” (Gilbert A. à Beckett), plates by John Leech. London, 1841.
A remarkably clever parody upon a publication entitled “Children of the Nobility,” issued under the auspices of the Countess of Blessington, the first Edition of which is scarce.
Charlotte Brontë.
Miss Mix. By Charlotte Brontë. See Sensation Novels Condensed, by Bret Harte.
Miss Braddon.
Selina Sedilia. By Miss M. E. Braddon and Mrs. Henry Wood. See Sensation Novels Condensed, by Bret Harte.
Miss Rhoda Broughton.
Gone Wrong. A new Novel by Miss Rhody Dendron, Authoress of “Cometh down like a Shower,” “Red in the Nose is She,” etc.
By F. C. Burnand. London, Bradbury, & Co, 1881.
Colonel F. Burnaby.
The Ride to Khiva. By F. C. Burnand. London, Bradbury, Agnew & Co, 1879. This burlesque of Colonel Burnaby’s A Ride to Khiva originally appeared in Punch.
Samuel Butler.
The Irish Hudibras, or Fingallian Prince. 1689.
The Whigs’ Supplication; or, Scotch Hudibras, a mock Poem. By Samuel Colville. First published in 1681, there have since been several editions.
The Lentiad; or, Peter the Pope pommelled and Pounded with a Hudibrastic Cudgel. Edited by Rev. John Allan. (Violently Anti-Catholic.) London, William Freeman, 1863.
Butler’s Ghost; or Hudibras, the fourth part, with reflections upon these times. Tom D’Urfey. 1682.
The Modern Hudibras, a poem in three cantos. By George Linley. London, J. C. Hotten, 1864.
“Cœlebs in search of a Wife.”
Cœlebs Deceived, a Novel. 1817.
Celia in search of a Husband, by a Modern Antique. 1809.
Miguel Cervantes.
A Chapter from the Book called The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha, which by some mischance has not till now been printed. London, George Redway, 1887.
(A curious dissertation on the literature of the Occult Sciences.)
Don Quixote; or, the Knight of the woeful Countenance. A Romantic Drama, in two acts. By George Almar, Surrey Theatre London, April 8, 1833. (Dicks).
Don Quixote was also dramatised at the Alhambra Theatre, London, a few years ago.
Wilkie Collins.
The Moonstone and Moonshine, after Wilkie Collins. This parody appeared in The Mask, London, August 1868.
No Title, by Wilkie Collins. See Sensation Novels Condensed, by Bret Harte.
Thomas Day.
The New History of Sandford and Merton. Being a True Account of the Adventures of “Masters Tommy and Harry,” with their Beloved Tutor, “Mr. Barlow.” By F. C. Burnand, with 76 Illustrations by Linley Sambourne.
London, Bradbury, Agnew & Co. 1871.
Of all Mr. Burnand’s burlesques, this is probably the most humorous; the immortal tutor prig, Mr. Barlow, the funny moral tales, and the equally funny illustrations, can scarcely be surpassed.
Daniel Defoe.
The New Robinson Crusoe, an Instructive and Entertaining History for the Children of both sexes. Thirty-two woodcuts by John Bewick. London, 1811.
Robinson Crusoe was translated into Latin by F. J. Goffaux in 1823, there are several French versions of it, the “Swiss Family Robinson,” and one in German called “Robinson the Younger,” by J. H. Campe.
Robinson the Younger, translated from the German of J. H. Campe. Hamburg, 1781.
Benjamin Disraeli.
Anti-Coningsby, or the New Generation grown old. By an embryo M.P. (Mr. W. North). 1844.
Hythair. By Walter Parke, Funny Folks, 1876.
Splendimion, or, the Asian Mystery. A Grand “Diz”-torical Romance. By Walter Parke. Funny Folks, 1880.
Charles Dickens.
In the list of plays founded on his novels, given on p. 226, the following should have been included:—
A Christmas Carol. By E. Stirling. Adelphi Theatre. February 5, 1844. (Barth.)
The Chimes. By E. Stirling, Lyceum Theatre, December, 26, 1844.
A Christmas Carol. By Charles Webb, (Barth.)
Martin Chuzzlewit. By Harry Minus, Oxford Theatre, Easter Monday, 1878, (Dicks).
These entries have been courteously supplied by Mr. T. F. Dillon Croker.
Hugh Conway.
Much Darker Days. By A. Huge Longway, author of “Scrawled Black,” “Unbound,” etc.
London, Longmans, Green and Co., 1884. Anonymous, preface signed A. H. L.
A later edition of this parody of Hugh Conway’s Dark Days was published in 1885, with an apologetic Preface.
Hauled Back, by his Wife. By Ugo Gone-away Hugaway. (Anonymous) London, J. and R. Maxwell, 1885.
Henry Fielding.
The History of Tom Jones the Foundling, in his Married State, London, 1750.
Tom Jones, a Comic Opera, as performed at Covent Garden Theatre, the words by Joseph Reed.
Tom Jones was also dramatised by Robert Buchanan, as well as Joseph Andrews, the title of which he changed to Joseph’s Sweetheart.
Mrs. Gore.
Mammon’s Marriage, by Mrs. Bore. See The Shilling Book of Beauty, by Cuthbert Bede.
Fergus W. Hume.
A Blood Curdling Romance.
The Mystery of a Wheelbarrow; or, Gaboriau Gaborooed. By W. Humer Ferguson. London, Walter Scott, 1888. A parody of The Mystery of a Hansom Cab, by Fergus W. Hume, of Melbourne, Australia.
260G. P. R. James.
The Page. A Romaunt from English history, by Gustavus Penny Royal Jacobus. See Our Miscellany, by E. H. Yates and R. B. Brough.
The Passage of Prawns. A Tale of Picardy, by George Prince Regent James. See The Puppet Showman’s Album.
In Cruikshank’s Almanac for 1846, will be found an article entitled “Hints to Novelists,” in which short imitations are given of G. P. R. James, C. Dickens, and Fennimore Cooper.
Barbazure, by G. P. R. Jeames, Esq. See Novels by Eminent Hands, by W. M. Thackeray. (These originally appeared in Punch.)
Magnum of Burgundy. A Romance of the Fronde. See A Bowl of Punch, by Albert Smith.
The Robber of Idleburg, by Walter Parke. See The Comic News, London. 1864.
Charles Lever.
Phil. Fogarty. A Tale of the Fighting Onety-oneth. By Harry Rollicker. See Novels by Eminent Hands, by W. M. Thackeray.
Terence Deuville, by Charles L—v—r. See Sensation Novels Condensed, by Bret Harte.
Tom Kinnahan, or the Frays and Fights of a Horse Marine. By Charles Heaver, author of the “Confessions of Larry Jollycur,” etc. See The Puppet Showman’s Album.
Lord Lytton.
The Wrongful Heir; or, What will they do with him? A Strange Story. By Walter Parke. Judy, 1869.
Baron Munchausen.
The Travels and Surprising adventures of Baron Munchausen. First English Edition Oxford, 1786.
There can be little doubt but what this amusing piece of nonsense was written to ridicule certain German memoirs, some say those of Baron de Tott, others say those of Baron Von Trenck. The authorship of the work was also the subject of dispute, but it is now generally ascribed to G. A. Bürger, the German poet, who died in 1794.
In 1792 there appeared A Sequel to the Adventures of Baron Munchausen which was humbly dedicated to Mr. Bruce, the celebrated Abyssinian traveller.
The Surprising, Unheard of, and Never-to-be-surpassed Adventures of Young Munchausen, related and illustrated by C. H. Bennett. In twelve “Stories.” London, Routledge & Co., 1865.
This originally appeared in Routledge’s Every Boy’s Annual.
“Ouida.” (Louise de la Ramée.)
Blue Blooded Bertie, or under two fires. A serial burlesque of Ouida’s “Under Two Flags,” by Walter Parke. Funny Folks, 1875.
Samuel Pepys.
The Diary of Samuel Pepys Esq., while an undergraduate at Cambridge. With notes and appendix. Cambridge: Jonathan Palmer, 1864. This clever parody ran through several Editions, it was thought to be the production of Mr. Cooke, a student of Emanuel College, Cambridge.
Mr. Pips, hys Diary. Manners and Customs of ye English, 1849. By Percival Leigh, with illustrations by Richard Doyle.
The University Commission, or, Lord John Russell’s Postbag, containing Mister Anthony Pepys his Diary, he being a member of the said Commission. Oxford, W. Baxter, 1850.
(Written in the style of Pepys’ Diary.)
Charles Reade.
Chikkin Hazard. A Novel by Charles Readit and Dion Bounceycore. This parody on Fowl Play, written by Mr. F. C. Burnand, first appeared in Punch, it was afterwards issued in book form by Bradbury, Agnew & Co., 1881.
Sir Walter Scott.
Rebecca and Rowena. A sequel to Ivanhoe. By W. M. Thackeray.
Pontefract Castle, a novel attributed to Sir W. Scott. Contained in Tales of my Landlord, new series, published in 1820.
Sir Walter Scott formally disavowed this work at the end of his introduction to “The Monastery,” 1830.
Waverley. An abridged edition was published by Knight and Lacy, London, 1827, with the title page “Novels, Tales, and Romances” by Sir Walter Scott, abridged and illustrated by Sholto Percy. This appears to have been a gross piracy.
Moredun: A tale of the Twelve Hundred and Ten, by W. S. This was published in 1855, as a newly discovered Waverley novel.
Walladmor. (2 vols. 1855). A Novel, by De Quincey, which purported to be “Freely translated into German from the English of Sir Walter Scott, and now freely translated from the German into English.” It appears that German readers were actually hoaxed into the belief that this novel was by Scott.
Hawley Smart.
What’s the Odds? or, The Dumb Jockey of Teddington. A sporting novel by Major Jawley Sharp.
By F. C. Burnand, London, Bradbury and Co., 1879.
(This originally appeared in Punch.)
Horace Smith.
Whitehall; or, the Days of George IV. Dedicated to Sir Edmund Nagle, K.C.B. London. W. Marsh, 1827.
Horace Smith, one of the authors of Rejected Addresses, wrote a number of historical novels, most of which are now entirely forgotten. One of these was called Brambletye House, to ridicule which Dr. William Maginn wrote Whitehall.
“The author’s object,” said the Quarterly Review, in January 1828, “is to laugh down the Brambletye House species of novel; and for this purpose we are presented with such an historical romance as an author of Brambletye House, flourishing in Barbadoes 200 or 2,000 years hence, we are not certain which, nor is the circumstance of material moment, might fairly be expected to compose of and concerning the personages, manners, and events of the age and country in which we live * * * * The book is, in fact, a series of parodies upon unfortunate Mr. Horace Smith,—and it is paying the author no compliment to say that his mimicry (with all its imperfections) deserves to outlive the ponderous original.”
But Whitehall is itself, almost as heavy and as tedious, as the work it parodies.
Robert Louis Stevenson
The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson. This weird and powerful story was dramatised by Mr. T. Russell Sullivan, and produced at the Lyceum Theatre in August 1888, Mr. Richard Mansfield performed the two title parts.
261 Another, but very inferior version, was brought out at the Opera Comique, London, by Mr. Bandmann about the same time, which the critics very unkindly laughed at as a ridiculous burlesque. Legal proceedings, however, soon compelled Mr. Bandmann to withdraw his unfortunate adaptation, and hurriedly close the theatre.
The Strange case of the Prime Minister and Mr. Muldoon, by Arthur Law, (London, 1886) was a sixpenny political pamphlet written to ridicule the Earl of Granville, Lord Hartington, Mr. Parnell and Mr. Gladstone.
The best thing in it was the following little parody:—
The Pirate’s Hand. A Romance of Heredity. By the Author of “The Strange case of Doctor Shuffle and Mister Glyde.” London, “Judy” office, 1888.
Jonathan Swift.
Hints to Servants; being a poetical and modernised version of Dean Swift’s celebrated “Directions to Servants.” By an Upper Servant. 1843.
Swift himself wrote some burlesques, amongst them one in prose, A Meditation on a Broomstick, in imitation of the style of the Hon. Robert Boyle’s Meditations.
His witty Directions to Servants, and The Polite and Ingenious Conversations, satirical and frequently indecent as they are, are also burlesques of their topics, treated in a very original manner.
Various imitations of the Directions to Servants have been written.
Swift’s Tale of a Tub Reversed for the universal improvement of mankind. 1750.
Gulliver Revived; or, the Vice of Lying properly Exposed, containing singular travels, campaigns, adventures, &c. by Baron Munchausen, also, a Sequel to the Adventures dedicated to Bruce, the Abyssinian Traveller. 1789-92.
Lilliput, being a new journey to that celebrated island, with an account of the manners, customs, &c., of those famous little people, by Lemuel Gulliver, 1766.
A political skit. The names are thinly disguised by the transposition of letters.
Voyage to Locuta; a Fragment, with etchings and notes of illustrations. By Lemuel Gulliver Junr. London, J. Hatchard 1818. A curious little grammatical work written in the form of an allegory, and as a sequel to Gulliver’s travels. (Scarce).
Gulliver and Munchausen outdone, by Peter Vangergoose. London, 1807.
W. M. Thackeray.
The Coachman, the Cook, and their Prodigy the Page. By Wm. Breakpeace Thwackaway.
See The Shilling Book of Beauty. This parody was written by the late J. H. Friswell.
Mrs. Tippikens’ Yellow Velvet Cape. By W. M. Thwackaway. (With an illustration by the author).
See The Puppet Showman’s Album. This little brochure also contains prose imitations of Lytton, G. P. R. James, B. Disraeli, C. Dickens, Charles Lever, T. Carlyle, W. H. Ainsworth, Douglas Jerrold, W. S. Landor, Mrs. Trollope, J. W. Croker and Albert Smith, most of which have already been quoted.
Anthony Trollope.
The Beadle! or, the Latest Chronicle of Small-Beerjester, by Anthony Dollop. Punch, 1880.
The Age of Lawn-Tennis. After Anthony Trollope. See Tennis Cuts and Quips. London, Field and Tuer.
Edmund Yates.
Ba! Ba! Black Sheep. An imitation, with a portrait of Mr. Yates, appeared in The Mask. London. June, 1868.
——:o:——
Guy Dyingstone, or the Muscular Patrician. A burlesque Novel by Walter Parke. Funny Folks, 1875.
Guy Deadstone. Another burlesque of “Guy Livingstone,” by the same author, appeared in Judy, 1869.
The Desperado of the Wilderness: or, The Maid, the Murderer, and the Demon Huntsman of Ashantee. This was a thrilling narrative of the “Boys of England” type, it appeared in Gleanings from “The Blue” 1881.
Our Boys Novelist, being stories of Wild Sport for the Youths of all Nations, with illustrations of the correctly exaggerated type by Harry Furniss, appeared in Punch, 1882.
YE ANNUALE WHYTEBAITE DINNER
OF
HYR MAJESTYE’S MINISTERS,
On Wednesdaie, ye 14th August, 1878,
Atte ye Hostelrie yclept
Ye Shippe, atte Greenwiche.
This Bille of ye Fare is drawn in playne Englysh, without any cloake of Frenche or other foreygne tongue, for the sadde and sobere comforte of frendes, and that ye maye know what ye are asked to accept.
Ye Bille of ye Fare.
Ye Soupe.
Soupe made from ye Turtle, and alsoe
Soupe made from ye Greene Fatte of ye same.
Ye Fyshe.
Ye Flounders curyously cooked, and
Salmonne servyd inne lyke mannere.
Ryssoles of ye Lobstere.
Ye lyttel Soles, fryed.
Ye Pudynges of ye Whyting.
Ye Eles skynned and stewed inne ye riche wyne of Oporto.
Ye Omelette of Crabbe inne ye style as servyd to ye Guardes of ye Blue Seale.
Ye Troute from ye River Spey, grylled with ye sauce of Tartar.
Salmonne inne collopes, with ye sauce inne ye Cyprus fashonne.
Ye Whytebaite, be-frizzled, and alsoe be-devylled.
262Fleshe and Fowle.
Sweetbreades with ye Mushroomes added thereunto.
Ye Haunche of ye Royale Bucke, with Haricotte Beans servyd therewith.
Ye Antient Hamme, from ye Citye of Yorke, grylled inne wyne of Champagne.
Ye Grouse from ye Northe Countree.
Hogge Bacone and younge Beanes.
Ye Sweetes, &c.
Apprycottes flavoured with Noyau.
Pudynges iced, after ye Nesselrode mannere.
Lyttel Cakes made with ye Cheese from Parma, inne Italie.
Ye Ices flavoured with Oranges and Strauberres.
Divers Fruytes which are your Desertes, and ye Wynes of Champagne and manie outlandysh countrees.
Ye Dinner will be servyd after ye mannere of ye Russian people.
Ye Guestes are bydden to eate after ye Hungarie mannere.
W. T. Bale, Mastere.
——:o:——
Miss Louisa Alcorn, a musical lady of New York, gave a dinner to a party of operatic friends. Here is the menu:—
Overture of Blue points.
Soup with vermicelli obligato.
Crabs al largo.
Andante of Veal.
Maccaroni scherzo.
Gavotte of Pork and Beans.
Pepper Sauce allegretto.
Roast Beef maestoso.
Tomato torcata, and bourrée of Yorkshire pudding.
Ducks with accompaniments in P.’s.
Game (in not too high a key).
A symphony in Sweets.
——:o:——
The following was the menu of the Capital Club dinner, held on January 31st 1885.
MENU.
“Man shall not live by bread alone.”—Matthew iv., 4.
[Entries close at 8 o’clock. Open to all members. Start from scratch.]
Oysters.
Bluepoints, double geared. Fluted forks.
Soup.
Volaille au Riz l’Allemande tra la la le.
Fish.
Red Snapper, elliptical backbone, Shrimp sauce.
Hollandaise Potatoes, tandem.
Releve.
Saddle of Southdown mutton, long distance.
Capon braise, a la Toulouse, not too loose.
Entrees.
Filet de Bœuf, piqué, with laced spokes.
Cotelettes de Mouton, with power traps.
Spring Chicken, fried, with noiseless ratchets.
Quail on toast, with rat-trap pedals.
Punch, a la Cardinal, Pope M’f’g Company.
Game.
Canvas Back Duck, buckled, with Croton Waste.
Venison, with Currant Jelly, shrunk on.
Pool, with set ups. Billiards, with ball-bearings.
Salads.
Lobsters narrow-tread. Chicken, with gunmetal hubs.
Vegetables.
Green Peas, droped forged. Sweet Corn, half-nickled.
Baked Mashed Potatoes, on the dead centre.
Stewed Tomatoes, anti-friction.
Dessert.
Tapioca Pudding, non-corrodent sauce.
Assorted Cakes, enamelled and striped.
Strawberry Ice Cream, on one wheel.
Macaroons, Invincible double section hollow rims.
Fruits, sociable. Champagne Jelly, hands-off.
Roquefort Cheese, hill climbing.
Liquors.
French Coffee. Aqua Pura, Glace à la Artesian.
Music by Schrœder.
——:o:——
Prescription for feelin’ bad.
iii gr. Aquy pury. | ||
About ¼ pint Whiskii Hyberniæ. | ||
⅛ inch Lemoni | } | ad discretionem. |
iii dr. Lumpi sugari |
Mixiter cum crusher.
Directions for application.
Foment the interior of the mouth with ⅛ of the mixture. Shortly after use ⅛ as a gargle, the same to be washed down with the remainder forthwithly.
The Hornet, 1871.
——:o:——
UN-OFFICIAL PROGRAMME
OF THE
LORD MAYOR’S SHOW for 1884.
By Deputy Chaff-Wax.
(This is much too long to be given in full)
The Services of the City Trumpeters will be dispensed with, the Lord Mayor having signified his intention of blowing his own, for which service he is eminently qualified.
Alderman Savory
Will enliven the March by singing scraps of Dr. Watts’ hymns.
Alderman H. T. Waterlow
(the Alphabet Alderman) is to be escorted by the twenty-six electors who made him an Alderman and Magistrate for life!!!
Sir John Bennett and Alderman Hadley
will march arm-in-arm in sack-cloth and ashes doing penance for their presumption.
The Banners of the City Knights will be emblazoned with the new device:—
“REAL TURTLE AND MOCK TITLES”
The Banner of Alderman Teetotum Whitehead bearing the Inscription
“VIDEO MELIORA PROBOQUE DETERIORA SEQUOR.”
263Captain Shaw of the Fire Brigade
will attend with his own hose, and if necessary, to restrain the enthusiastic reception of the Lord Mayor, will play upon the people.
BUMBLEDOM
Is to be represented by all the Companies and Parish Beadles and Jacks in office in London, with cocked hats, gold lace, mace, cinnamon, &c.
Banner of Lord Mayor Fowler,
with the device
The motto for Liberals permit me to mention,
“Bradlaugh and Blasphemy” is my invention.
Major Sewell and Sir T. Nelson
Will exhibit the Secret Service Cash Book.
The Splendid Banner of the League, with the device—
“WHY SHOULD LONDON WAIT,”
Borne by Messrs. Firth, Beal, Lloyd, and Phillips.
A Cartoon of Lazarus and Dives
representing
On one side—Civic Satraps dining—
On the other, “Out-cast London”—pining.
ONE POLICEMAN ARM-IN-ARM.
The City Marshall on Horseback Singing,
“Let me Like a Soldier Fall.”
A DISSOLVING VIEW
of the odious Coal and Wine Dues,
(The Metropolitan Board doing a Break-down.)
Deputy Bedford,
the City Wag, will join the procession at Temple Bar,
where he will await it on his £12,000 Griffin.
THE WONDERFUL BILL OF THE CIVIC
BANQUET WHICH COST £27,000!!!
Will be carried by the Common Councilmen who ate it,
to amuse the people who paid for it.
The Sheriffs
will be preceded by the band of the Rueful Brigade, playing
selections from Madame Hang-o’.
The Trophies of our Colonies will be followed by the
TROPHIES of our LONDON SLUMS, followed by
NEMESIS!!
The Rt. Hon. Sir Wm. Vernon Harcourt, M.P.,
Will ask the populace at every stoppage
“If they will submit to the dictation of the Leeds Caucus
and suffer the Constitution to be tinkered at, while the heart
of the Empire is suffering from congestion.”
The Banner of the Union
Will be followed by the 90,000 London Paupers.
THE LATE LORD MAYOR
Will be serenaded by the Vauxhall Water Co.’s Share-holders—“Good
Night—Good Knight,” &c.
Lord Mayor Fowler
Will be preceded by a Herald who will announce the fact that his Lordship represents some 200 nobodies and will shine for 12 months in the reflected light of FOUR MILLIONS, but in consideration of his gentleness, dignity, and urbanity, and in the hope that he will be
THE LAST OF THE SHAMS
He must be tolerated accordingly.
This tomfoolery now will be brought to a close in a very appropriate way, sir,
By Alderman Finis and Corpulent Innes, and Alderman Polly Decay Sir.
N.B.—The Chairman of the S. E. Rly. will be an hour behind time.—As usual.
——:o:——
THE LORD MAYORS SHOW, 1884.
Mounted Police clearing five-barred gates. City Police clearing their throats.
The Mayors of Brighton, Ramsgate, and Margate in Bathing
Machines drawn by their own Horses.
A lot of people whom nobody knows in hired flys.
THE COMPANY OF POLITICIANS.
The Premier, Axing his way.
Sir William Harcourt, with Municipal Bill, arm-in-arm.
One hundred Members of the House of Peers, in
morning dress.
The old Chain Pier from Brighton in full armour.
The Faithful Wimbledon, Wandsworth and Putney
Commons.
THE COMPANY OF PAINTERS.
Twenty Royal Academicians, in beautiful modern costumes,
in a chariot Drawn by Themselves!!
THE COMPANY OF WRITERS.
Lord Tennyson, in his Inverness cape and coronet.
Professor Ruskin, anyhow.
A round dozen of the Incorporated Society of Authors,
assorted.
THE COMPANY OF PLAYERS.
Mr. Toole drawing a House.
Walking Gentlemen coming slowly as “Strollers”
The Jersey Lily and Lyceum Mary, as Sandwich Girls,
carrying Somebody’s Soft Soap.
THE COMPANY OF WARRIORS.
Our Only General, in his only uniform.
Our Only Admiral, a little out of date.
Ironclads on horseback. Each mounted on an old screw.
THE COMPANY OF ROYALTIES.
Royalties on Songs, Royalties on Books, Royalties on
everything.
Mr. George Grossmith as “The Susceptible Chancellor,”
followed by all The Judges of Wine, of
Pictures, of Plays, and The Judge of the Race
in his own private box.
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD MAYOR,
as “A Positive,” bearing banner with motto
“Photo de Mieux,”
In his State Robes,
Supported by the Stereoscopic Company.
The Procession will be closed by
A Negative of the Late Lord Mayor
Accompanied by a Band playing “Love for a Year!”
Punch.
——:o:——
HOW THEY’LL OPEN THE INVENTORIES.
Massed Steel Band,
Composed of Eminent Surgeons, playing on their Surgical
Instruments.
Tune—“The Savile Row Lancers.”
Specimens of Agricultural Implements, marshalled by a
Steam Drill Master.
Steam Ploughs and their Chères, arm in arm.
Thrashing Machines following in the beaten track.
A detachment of Devonshire Hinds (hinder part before).
Delegates from the National Agricultural Labourers’
Union, bearing their own Triumphal “Arch.”
Band, playing “The Cameras are coming.”
Photographic Apparatus, focussing and swearing.
264
Miss Mary Anderson, drawn in a brightly-coloured “carte”
Two Negatives making a Positive.
Two Positivists taking a Negative.
A Photographic Sportsman taking a Fence.
Band, playing “The Harp that once through Tara’s
Halls,” and the Tune the old cow died of.
Cue-rious Instruments, headed by two “Jiggers.”
“P-an’-O” Boats, with sales set on the Three Years’
Hire System.
The first pair of “Lyres” ever discovered.
A Predatory Brass Band, playing “Band-ditties.”
Sample of the “Horns” originally exalted in the East.
“Cavendish,” playing “The Last Trump.”
Deputation from the “Portland,” playing little Clubs.
Mr. Charles Warner, singing his “Last Chaunts.”
Gold Band, playing “All round my hat.”
Novel Inventions three abreast.
Miss Braddon and “Ouida” inventing plots.
Padding.
Dramatists inventing Situations.
More Padding.
Hydraulic Presses collecting Water Rates.
Captive Balloonatics (with their Keepers).
Armour-plated “Monitors.” Lent by the King’s College
School authorities.
Fountains, playing Handel’s “Water Music.”
A Thames Angler, playing a Fish.
Band of Swindlers, playing False Cards.
Diplomatic Inventions à la Russe.
The latest thing in Despatches Invented by General
Komaroff.
Band of Diplomatists, playing the Fool.
Funny Folks, May, 1885.
——:o:——
THE LORD MAYOR’S SHOW, 1885.
The following programme originally appeared in The Sporting Times, November 7, 1885. It has been found necessary to abbreviate it, partly because it was too long, and partly because it was too broad.
Next Monday this time-honoured procession will once more perambulate the streets, squares, ponds, reservoirs, and bars of the metropolis. Every one being sick of the Guildhall, it will this year start from Bow Street, passing by the stage-door of the Gaiety Theatre, proceeding through the Gaiety grill room, into Prosser’s Avenue. The procession will then proceed vià Drury Lane Theatre to the Royal, returning by Rules’ in Maiden Lane, down to Romano’s. Thence, if not interfered with by the police, and still sufficiently sober to proceed, it will march to the Criterion, en route for Hatchett’s. After that its course is a trifle uncertain. The order of the procession will be as follows:—
POLICE UNARMED WITH REVOLVERS.
Burglars Beating Police.
Police Armed with Revolvers.
Ambulance Waggons
Containing
Respectable Citizens shot down as Burglars.
BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY
OF LUMBERERS.
Banner of the Banner of the
Punching Machine. Lord Chief Justice.
The Lumberer’s Band.
Triumphal Car depicting Early English Industries. On this vehicle, kindly lent by the Worshipful Company of Card Makers, will be depicted, as the procession rolls by, the whole Art and Science of faking the broads, cutting longs and shorts, of dealing the long hand, and abundances at Solo.
Welshers who have passed into Tattersall’s.
Welshers who have been chucked while endeavouring
to pass into Tattersall’s.
BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY
OF BAT MAKERS.
Banner of J. L. Shine. Banner of John Coleman.
BANNER OF LADY ARCHIE CAMPBELL.
The Bat Band.
Air: “Batti! Batti!”
BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY
OF CHILDREN PROTECTORS.
Banner of Darby. Banner of Stead.
Banner of Booth. Banner of Blobbs.
BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY
OF TAPEMAKERS.
Banner of the Albert Club.
The Governor of Holloway.
The Governor of Pentonville.
Late Friends of the Governor’s
on
Tickets of Leave.
Present Friends of the Governor’s on Treadmills.
Aldermen who have passed the chair.
Aldermen who have passed the bottle.
Aldermen who have passed nothing.
Banner of Beecham. Banner of Cockle.
Banner bearing motto, “N. S.”
Banner bearing motto, “Refer to Drawer.”
Banner bearing motto, “No Account.”
Banner of Sewage Banner of Billingsgate
Commissioners. Fish Ring.
Banner of Mudsalad Market.
Band of Her Majesty’s Scavengers.
THE LADY MAYORESS SHIFTER
In a Brompton ’Bus,
Attended by Her Landlady.
Banner of the Gaiety Theatre Canteen.
THE LORD MAYOR.
People with People with
Aquiline Noses. Snub Noses.
TRIUMPHAL CAR, representing the Search For Chips
or
“Where is the Oofbird?”
——:o:——
THE LORD MAYOR’S SHOW, 1886.
(the Year of the Socialist Scare.)
It is stated that the Lord Mayor’s Show this year will be of an entirely novel character, and will be made up somewhat like this:—
THE CITY MARSHAL,
On horseback, glued to the saddle for the sake of safety.
Detachment of the Light Cavalry of the Very
Ancient and Still More Honourable Artillery
Company,
Dismounted for fear of accidents.
The Chief Commissioner of the City Police,
Escorted by a detachment of the Social Democratic
Federation.
BANNER OF THE UNEMPLOYED.
Band of the United Order of German Musicians.
Banner of the Worshipful Company of City
Gorgers.
BANNER OF CHARLES HARRIS, Esq.
Charles Harris, Esq.,
Seated on a triumphal car.
Banner of the Worshipful Company of Scene Shifters.
Band of the Royal Horse Marines. (Green).
Aldermen who have Passed the Bottle.
Aldermen who have not Passed the Bottle,
But have preferred to keep it near them.
Banner of the Worshipful company of Loan Mongers.
BANNER OF COMMISSIONER KERR.
Band of the Royal Dismounted Infantry.
The Right Honourable the Lord Mayor’s
Carriage,
Containing the Sword and Mace Bearers, the Lord Mayor
being absent on other business.
Escort of the Royal Horse Marines. (Green).
RAG.
TAG.
BOBTAIL.
It has been considered advisable to omit the scriptural quotations from the following reprint:—
COPY OF A BILL WRITTEN BY THE LATE
REV. ROWLAND HILL,
which was stuck up at
RICHMOND,
On Saturday, 4th of June, 1774, close to the Play Bill
for that day.
The design was to divert the minds of the gay and dissipated,
from the vain amusements of the
THEATRE
And to fix their attention on the awful circumstances which
shall usher in, and succeed,
“The Great and Terrible Day of the Lord.”
BY COMMAND OF THE KING OF KINGS,
and at the desire of all who love his appearing.
At the
THEATRE OF THE UNIVERSE
on the Eve of time, will be performed
THE GREAT ASSIZE
or
DAY OF JUDGMENT,
THE SCENERY
Which is now actually preparing, will not only surpass everything that has yet been seen, but will infinitely exceed the utmost stretch of human conception. There will be a just REPRESENTATION of ALL THE INHABITANTS of the WORLD, in their various and proper colours; and their costumes and manners will be so exact, and so minutely delineated, that the most secret thought will be discovered.
This THEATRE will be laid out after a new plan, and will consist of
PIT & GALLERY
only; and contrary to all others, the GALLERY is fitted up for the reception of Persons of High (or Heavenly) Birth, and the PIT for those of Low (or Earthly) Rank. N.B.—The GALLERY is very spacious, and the PIT without bottom.
To prevent inconvenience, there are separate doors for admitting the company; and they are so different that none can mistake that are not wilfully blind. The Door which opens into the GALLERY is very narrow, and the steps up to it somewhat difficult: for which reason there are seldom many people about it. But the Door that gives entrance into the PIT is very commodious: which causes such numbers to flock to it that it is generally crowded. N.B.—The straight Door leads towards the right hand, and the broad one to the left. It will be in vain for one in a tinselled coat and borrowed language to personate one of HIGH BIRTH in order to get admittance into the upper places, for there is One of wonderful and deep penetration who will search and examine every individual and all who cannot pronounce SHIBBOLETH in the language of Canaan, or has not received a white stone and a new name, or cannot prove a clear title to a certain portion of the LAND of PROMISE, must be turned in at the left door.
Act First.
of this grand and solemn piece will be opened by
AN ARCHANGEL WITH THE TRUMP OF GOD!!!
act Second.
PROCESSION OF SAINTS
In white, with Golden Harps, accompanied with Shouts of
Joy and Songs of Praise.
Act Third.
An ASSEMBLAGE of all THE UNREGENERATE, the music will chiefly consist of Cries, accompanied with WEEPING, WAILING, MOURNING, LAMENTATION, and WOE.
To conclude with an oration by
THE SON OF GOD.
After which the Curtain will drop.
Tickets for the PIT, at the easy purchase of following the pomps and vanities of the Fashionable World, and the desires and amusements of the Flesh, to be had at every Flesh-pleasing Assembly.
Tickets for the GALLERY, at no less rate than being converted, forsaking all, denying self, taking up the Cross, and following Christ in the Regeneration. To be had no where but in the word of God, and where that word appoints.
N.B.—No money will be taken at the door, nor will any Tickets give admittance into the Gallery but those sealed by the Lamb.
COMPANY PROSPECTUSES.
Of late years the British public has been surfeited with the Prospectuses of new Limited Liability Companies; needy Lords and retired officers have been in great request for the Boards of Directors, they being precisely the two classes of men least likely to have any knowledge of business, or experience in commercial affairs.
Some of these Prospectuses have been so ridiculous in themselves that they read like burlesques, but numbers of amusing parodies of Company Prospectuses have also been published.
One of the best and earliest of these appeared in Blackwood’s Magazine, October 1845 during the great Railway Mania. It was written by Professor Aytoun, and was styled “How we got up the Glenmutchin Railway, and how we got out of it.”
This detailed the inception of a bogus Scotch Railway, and the prospectus of the Direct Glenmutchin Railway, with a list of the Directors, is one of the finest pieces of humorous writing in the language.
Another amusing parody was brought out some years ago, namely “The Gott-up Hotel Company, Limited,” with Sir Titus A. Drum, Baronet, as Chairman of the Directors.
When the Crown Prince of Portugal visited London in 1883, he went to Claridge’s Hotel, as he had not been invited to any of the Royal Palaces, this caused Mr. Punch to issue the following:—
PROMISING PROSPECTUS.
The Royal and Imperial Homeless and Wandering Visitors Hotel Company (Limited).
The Directors of this unique and magnificently conceived enterprise, undertaken with a view to supplying that now long experienced National want, a suitable palatial residence for Princes and Potentates found wandering in search of a fitting domicile about the back streets of the Metropolis, have much pleasure in informing their intended august Patrons, that their perfectly-appointed establishment will shortly open under the direction of a well-known and experienced retired Central-European Monarch, whose distinguished services they have had the honour to secure.
The following (extracted from the Company’s Abridged Prospectus) comprise a few of the leading features of the new establishment:—
The building will stand on a convenient and imposing site judiciously selected in the immediate vicinity of the Metropolitan District Railway Station, St. James’s Park, and within easy access of the Aquarium, Westminster Bridge, the House of Detention, and the Foreign Office.
There will be no lettered name or title on the façade of the new Hotel, which will, with the object of giving rise to a pleasing illusion, be specially designed by the architect to resemble as far as possible that of a not far distant and generally unoccupied Royal Palace.
A trained and certificated Diplomatist, who can speak several European languages fluently, will be permanently attached to the staff of the establishment, and will give his services gratis.
A couple of effective Sentry Boxes will also be placed at the principal entrance, and occupied permanently by two of the Company’s Private Soldiers, who, dressed in the correct uniform of Her Majesty’s Foot Guards, will be efficiently drilled for their duty.
Gold Sticks in Waiting will attend in the Hall for the purpose of receiving Royal and Imperial Visitors. They will also, if desired to do so, precede them to their respective apartments, walking backwards up-stairs for a small extra charge.
The general scheme of the establishment will include several public Throne and Reading Rooms, A Privy Council Chamber, Gala Banquet Hall, and a series of excellent Billiard and Abdication Tables by the best makers.
In order to meet the requirements of august personages who desire to be surrounded at a reasonable cost with such State accessories as are proper to their dignity and position, the subjoined Tariff of Prices has been carefully arranged by the Management, in the hope that it will be found not incompatible with a charge on the most moderate civil list:—
Tariff. | |
Private Royal or Imperial Sitting-Room (per day) | 5s. to 7s 6d. |
(Ditto, ditto, with throne, 2s. 6d. extra.) | |
Ditto Bed-Room (exclusive of light) | 3s. to 6s. |
State Imperial ditto, with half-tester velvet canopy | 8s. |
Double-bedded ditto (suitable for two Emperors) | 14s. |
Breakfast, consisting of Tea or Coffee, with cold Meat, broiled Ham, or Eggs | 2s. 6d. |
Ditto, ditto, with full Military Band outside | 3s. |
Chop or Steak, with potatoes | 1s. 6d. |
Ditto, ditto, with Salvos of Artillery at intervals | 1s. 9d. |
State Dinner of Soup, or Fish, Entrées, Joint, with Cheese and Celery | 3s. 6d. |
Ditto, ditto, including Toast-Master and Musical Grace | 5s. |
Ditto, ditto, in Uniform, at High Table (if singly) | 1s. extra. |
Gas Illumination on Exterior of Sitting-Room, according to device (per evening) | From 2s. to 10s. 6d. |
Cup of Tea | 4d. |
Ditto, on Throne | 6d. |
Two Lancers to attend Cab or Carriage to Theatre or Reception (for first hour) | 1s. |
For each succeeding hour | 6d. |
Daily crowd (with cheers), on entering or leaving hotel, by contract.
Strictest attention paid to the slightest International prejudices.
An ultimatum always ready on the premises.
Punch, December 22, 1883.
——:o:——
A few extracts from the
Prospectus of the Horse Shoe Hotel,
Tottenham Court Road, London.
This hotel was built and arranged for the special comfort and convenience of the travelling public.
On arrival, each guest will be asked how he likes the situation, and if he says the hotel ought to have been placed nearer the park or railway station, the location of the house will be immediately changed. Front rooms, on first floor, for each guest.
Bath, gas, hot and cold water, laundry, telegraph, fire 267 escape, restaurant, bar-room, billiard tables, daily papers, sewing machine, grand piano, a clergyman, and all other modern conveniences in every room.
Meals every minute if desired. Waiters of any desired nationality.
Every waiter furnished with a libretto, button-hole bouquets, full dress suits, theatre tickets, the latest tips, and his hair parted down the middle. Every guest will have the best seat in the dining hall, and the best waiter in the house.
Any guest not getting his breakfast red hot, or experiencing a delay of fifteen seconds after giving his order for dinner, will please mention the fact at the Manager’s Office, and the cooks and waiters will at once be blown by Her Majesty’s Horse Guards from the mouth of the cannon.
Children will be welcomed with delight, and are requested to bring hoop-sticks and jack-knives, to bang and hack the carved rosewood furniture, specially provided for the purpose; they will be allowed to thump the piano at all hours, fall down stairs, scream and yell to their heart’s content, carry away dessert enough for a small family in their pockets at dinner, and make themselves otherwise as agreeable and entertaining as the fondest mother can desire. Washing underlinen allowed in all the drawing-rooms.
A discreet waiter, who belongs to the Masons, Odd Fellows, and Women’s Suffrage, and who was never known to tell the truth, has been employed to carry milk punches and hot toddies to the ladies’ rooms in the evening.
The office clerk has been carefully selected to please everybody, and can play unlimited loo, match worsteds at the shop round the corner, toss for drinks at any hour, day or night, play billiards, a good waltzer, amuse the children, is a good judge of horses, as a railroad reference is far superior to the A B C, Bradshaw’s, or anybody else’s guide, will flirt with any young lady, and not mind being cut dead when “Pa comes down,” don’t mind being damned any more than the Regent’s Canal, can put forty people into the best room in the house when the hotel is full, and answer questions in Greek, Hebrew, Choctaw, Irish, or any other polite language, at the same moment, without turning a hair.
Dogs allowed in any room in the house, including the w(h)ine room. Gentlemen can drink, smoke, swear, chew, gamble, tell shady stories, stare at the new arrivals, or indulge in any other innocent amusements in any part of the hotel.
The landlord will always be happy to hear that some other hotel is “the best in the country,” and that his is the very worst.
——:o:——
Dear Jack.
Enclosed Draft Prospectus was got up by one of our “sinners,”[56] and as just now the public will buy any mortal thing, I seriously believe there is coin in the idea. Send the manuscript to the printer, just as it stands, and tell him to set it up and send a few pulls, marked “Private—First Proof,” which I will pass round and get licked into shape.
Yours, old fellow,
Peter Preemium.
P.S.—Keep it quiet.
The Quill Toothpick Attachment Company, Limited.
Messrs Layit Onthick & Co., offer for subscription the undermentioned Capital:
(The subscription list will open on Saturday next at Four o’clock in the afternoon, and will close at five minutes past Nine on Monday morning.)
Ordinary Shares, £10 each | £5,000,000 |
Preference 6 per cent. Shares, £10 each | £4,500,000 |
Total Share Capital | £9,500,000 |
Debenture Stock bearing interest at 5 per cent. (redeemable at the Company’s option up to the expiration of twenty years from the first of April next (1887) at 110 per cent.) | £3,000,000 |
£12,500,000 |
“One-half of the ordinary Shares is reserved for the Vendor, who will hold as long as it suits his convenience, and the remainder, together with the Preference Shares and Debenture Stock, are now offered severally for public subscription at par.
The Quill Toothpick Attachment Company, Limited,
has been formed to supply the whole world with Quill Toothpicks, the interiors of which will be charged with hydraulically compressed drinks, such as the stout of Guinness, the ale of Bass, the champagne of , the whiskey of , the port of , and the sherry of .
Might charge these as advertisements, say £25 each, and cheap enough at the money.
By means of a new forcing machine, which the vendor is now trying to invent, he thinks that a quart of Guinness or a bottle of Champagne can be readily compressed into the interior of a Toothpick, and when in the mouth the contents will be gently and gradually released by the touch of a spring. The Tea of , and the Coffee of will be stored in a similar manner. The Company will grant Royalties to Temperance Societies.
Try Cooper Cooper & Co., and that tinned French Coffee chap—I forget his name—for advertisement. If you can, get some soft soap into the prospectus, Pears’ should be safe for at least £100.
The advantages of the Quill Toothpick Attachment must be apparent to the meanest capacity. For instance, a man is invited out to dine, and finds himself in danger of being poisoned. He pulls out a Toothpick charged with the desired drink, and the morning headache is avoided. Ten thousand Toothpicks charge with - - - - -
Charge £50 for this advertisement.
wonderful brand of champagne will be distributed gratis to the female leaders of society, and it is anticipated that the use of toothpicks will soon become common to both sexes at every meal. As a further development it is anticipated that hosts will soon cease altogether to provide bottled drinks for their guests, and in place thereof will lay in quantities of Toothpicks charged by the Company. The contents of the Toothpicks will in all cases be absolutely guaranteed to be what they are, and this the Directors distinctly guarantee it is impossible to dispute.
The prospects of the Company are exceedingly brilliant. 268 Professor Figuritout has been specially feed for the compilation of the following startling statistics:
“The population of the world,” says the learned Professor, “is in round figures ,000,000,000,” and the Professor stakes his reputation that 00·000 per cent. uses a Toothpick.
Fill in at discretion.
The Company hope to make very large profits out of the Toothpicks themselves, and will at once proceed to open negotiations for the purchase of farms and ranches in the great Sahara of Africa and the vast plains of America for the cultivation of the Anser Vulgaris, or common goose.
The Anser Vulgaris flourishes everywhere, and by gentle persuasion readily and painlessly parts with its feathers, in fact it generally takes some time to discover that anything is wrong. The gander parts less readily, and as a rule the feathers are small and so few in number as to be hardly worth plucking.
There is another well-known and exceedingly strong feathered breed of goose (Anser Stockexchangeiensis) frequenting the numerous runs adjacent Capel Court. This breed parts with no persuasion, in fact at times it courts being plucked, but it has a nasty habit of shortly wanting back again all its own feathers and as many of other people’s as it can possibly grab hold of. Sometimes, but not often, it loses nearly every feather it has got, and then it gently hisses, and horribly blasphemes.”
These Extracts are taken from a Prospectus issued by John Heywood, Manchester, in 1887.
——:o:——
Numerous burlesque acts of Parliament have been published, the late Albert Smith wrote several which were printed in imitation of parliamentary papers. One was entitled “An Act to amend the laws relating to the giving of Dinner and Evening Parties. Act 1. Cap 1. 1848.”
(Ireland.)
A BILL
intituled,
An Act for the better defence and support of Life of Landlord and Tenant, and to facilitate the Maintenance and Comfort of Persons subject to certain starvation in Ireland.
Preamble.
Whereas there has been always found to be a certain connexion between Misery and Outrage in Ireland; AND WHEREAS, there is no reason to believe that the Irish people have a greater fancy for shooting each other than other people; AND WHEREAS, hitherto every kind of Coercion has been tried without effect, and the only means of preventing outrage that has not been tried is to give the people work and food.
I. Be it enacted that from and after the passing of this Act, it shall and may be compulsory upon every English Cabinet Minister, before he legislates for Ireland, to pay a visit to the same, and learn something of the real state of the people and the country thereof.
II. And be it enacted, that it shall and may be lawful to teach Irish Landlords that Property has its duties as well as its Rights, and that the latter may best be secured by a due and proper discharge of the former.
III. And be it enacted, that from and after the passing of this Act, Milk of Human Kindness be allowed to be imported into Ireland, and used freely in all parts of the same, instead of the Odium Theologicum or Odium Politicum now in use, in lieu thereof.
* * * * *
VIII. And be it enacted, that a compensation not exceeding £ per annum, be paid to Mr. O’Connell and all hired agitators, for the loss they shall sustain by the passing of this Bill.
IX. And be it enacted, that in the construction of this Act, masculine words shall mean feminine, and singular plural; and that all other rules of grammar shall be violated, as in other Acts is usually provided.
From The Almanack of the Month. July, 1846.
In 1862, Carter of Regent Street, London, published “Official Regulations on Female Dress during the International Exhibition of 1862.” This amusing skit was also got up in correct official style.
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OFFICE RULES.
1. Gentlemen upon entering will Leave the door wide open, or apologise.
2. Those having No Business should remain as Long as Possible, take a chair, and Lean against the Wall; it will preserve the wall, and may prevent its fall upon us.
3. Gentlemen are requested to Smoke especially during Office Hours; Tobacco and Cigars will be supplied.
4. Talk Loud or Whistle, especially when we are engaged; if this has not the desired effect, Sing.
5. If we are in Business Conversation with anyone you are requested not to wait until we are done, but Join in, as we are particularly fond of speaking to half-a-dozen or more at a time.
6. Profane Language is expected at all times, especially if Ladies are present.
7. Put your feet on the tables, or lean against the Desk; it will be of great assistance to those who are writing.
8. Persons having no Business with this Office will call often or excuse themselves.
9. Should you need the loan of any Money do not fail to Ask for it, as we do not require it for Business Purposes, but merely for the sake of lending.
Our hours for listening to Solicitors for Benevolent Purposes are from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m., Book Agents from 1 to 3 p.m., Beggars, Pedlers, and Insurance Agents all day. We attend to our Business at Night.
The Lord helpeth those that help themselves, but the Lord help any man caught helping himself here.
THE MENAGERIE.
(A Burlesque Lecture.)
“Hi! hi! hi! walk up, walk up, walk up! The only show in the fair, the largest and the best! The penny seats are all a penny, the ha’penny seats are four for tuppence! Ladies and gentlemen, we ’ave the most astounding collection of ’uman and animal fernomenons ever exhibited to the public of this or any other town! The pictures on the outside of the carawan ain’t nothink to the marvels to be seen alive within! Give the drum a one-er!
“Before a-inviting of you to enter, and taste the joys of Elysium to be ’ad at the small charge of one penny, I will exhibit to your astonished and admiring gaze a few pictorual illusterations of the wonders to be shortly disclosed to you. Give the drum a one-er!
“The first speciment I shall introduct to your notice is the Spotted Babe of Peru. The infant is so called from being born in the Ratcliffe ’Ighway! It was born at a very early age bein’ quite a child at the time. It had two parients, one male and one female. I should be deludin’ of you, ladies and gents, if I concealed from you the fack that its male parient was its father. The infant is covered all over with spots or specks. There ain’t nothink ketchin’ in the spots or specks. They wos caused by its grandfather ’avin swaller’d a box o’ dominoes in a fit of duleruam tremins. When tormented by the pangs of ’unger, the infant do not gnash ’is toothless gums and ’owl for grub like the ornary babe of commerce, but ’e climbs to the rooft of the carawan, where ’e barks like a dorg! ’Ence the term, ‘Peruvian Bark’! Give the drum a one-er!
“The next speciment I shall introduct to your notice is the O-rang-O-tang! The o-rang-o-tang ain’t a Irish beast, as ’is name might imply. ’E is a celebrated bird of the hinside of Central Africa. ’E do not live on cotton-wool and carster-hile, as is poplerly supposed! Oh, no, that there is a aspershin on the manner of the inseck! ’E climbs aloft to the giddy summat of the Halpine palm-tree, where ’e ’angs upsy-down by the roof of ’is mouth; ketches the prairie-hyster with ’is hyebrows; cracks it with ’is fore’ead; devours the lushus froot; and distriboots the shells among ’is noomerous orfspring! Give the drum a one-er!
The next objek of interest is the Bovis Kimmunis, or Commin Cow. The cow is the most dimmestercated of all wile animals. ’E is a oblong beast, in the form of a pork-mantew or fiddle-case on tressels! ’E ’ave a leg on each corner of ’im. ’Is ’ead is at one end of ’is body, and ’is tail is at the other end. The tail-end is oppersite the ’ead-end, onless the animil turns round, then the tail-end is on the ’ead-end! And this confuses the milkmaids! The cow is a useful beast. In our declinin’ days, when we expected every moment to be our nex, we ’ave been soothed and solaced by an excellent and newtrishis jelly prepared from ’is horns, ’is oofts, and ’is tail; or to quote the words of the advertisement, ‘it imparts a pearly lustre to the breath, a kinky curliness to the complexion, a floral flaviour to the eye; is a excellent substertute for a stummick-pump, carefully perpared from the reseat of a nobleum in the country, to imertate which is forgery.’
“I cannot quit the Bovis Kimmunis, or Commin Cow, without recalling to your recommemberlection the words of the well-known poet Cowper, which he says:
“Give the drum a one-er!
“The last speciment I shall ’ave the pleasure of introducting to your notice is the Cocclicus Indicus, or Prickly Pollywog of the Ipecacuanha Mountains, wot lives entirely on bottled bootjacks, currant jelly, turnip-tops, sarsaparilla, tenpenny nails, toasting-forks, corn-plaister, pot-lids, cabbage water, lemon-squeezers, black-beetle poison, cinder-sifters, soapsuds, silver sand, and postage stamps; until, one day, in a fit of tempory aboration of hinterlek, it swaller’d a sausage machine, two reams of emery paper, a box of matches, and fourteen seidlitz powders, and expired of spontaneous combustion and acute inflermation of the waistcoat pocket linings of the coats of ’is stummick. ’E then expired, and is to be seen alive within. Give the drum a one-er!”
Charles Collette.
On Farming.
(Lecture Written by Mark Twain when a Boy.)
Farming is healthy work; but no man can run a farm and wear his best clothes at the same time. Either the farming must cease while the new clothes continues, or the new clothes must cease while farming continues. This shows that farming is not so clean work as being a Congressman or schoolmaster, for these men can wear good clothes if they can find money to pay for them. Farmers get up early in the morning. They say the early bird catches the worm. If I was a bird, I had rather get up late and eat cherries in place of worms. Farmers don’t paint their waggons when they can help it, for they show mud too quick. The colour of their boots is red, and don’t look like other people’s boots, because they are twice as big. Farmers’ wives have a hard time cooking for hired men, and the hired men find fault with the farmers’ wives’ cooking. Why don’t farmers’ wives let the hired men do the cooking while they do the finding fault? Farmers don’t get as rich as bank presidents, but they get more exercise. Some ask—“Why don’t farmers run for Congress?” They run so much keeping boys out of their peach orchards and melon patches they don’t have any time to run after anything else. If Congress should run after farmers, one might be caught now and then. Lawyers can beat farmers at running for most anything. I know a farmer who tried to run a line fence according to his notion. The other man objected and hurt the farmer. The farmer hired a lawyer to run his line fence, and now the lawyer runs the farmer’s farm, and the farmer has stopped running anything.
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Regulations in the United States Navy.
A Buffalo paper prints the following extracts from a manuscript treatise on naval discipline, prepared by the Secretary of the American Navy:—“The custom of sailing before the wind should be avoided, whenever it is possible, as experience has demonstrated that it is much better to wait for the breeze and carry it along, if not too heavy. Commanders of sailing ships-of-war, I have observed, are addicted to the practice of ‘staggering under all they can carry.’ This matter will receive early attention, as the necessity for reform in this direction would seem imperative. When dirty weather is threatened, or when there is reason to suspect breakers ahead, the captain should heave to, or three, but never more than four. In taking on board ammunition, and powder, and shot, and shells and caps, &c., the fore, main, and mizen trucks should be utilised, in connection with the animals belonging to the horse marines. It is deemed best to abolish dog-watches. The practice is believed to encourage idleness among the sailors, and necessitates the keeping on board a number of useless beasts whose presence must 270 be anything but desirable. In the interests of economy, the allowance for captains’ gigs should be withdrawn. It is plain that they are of no real utility on ship-board, and that they are at all times in the way. When on shore the captains can avail themselves of the street railway, or of the facilities afforded by the livery stables. All anchors should be accurately weighed before being taken on board, and the weight plainly marked on each, thereby saving time and trouble when a ship is about to take her departure. All ‘splicing’ should be done by the chaplain, as he is the person upon whom the performance of the ceremony most properly devolves. When sailing in tropical seas, the breeches of the guns should be removed and carefully stowed away, to be replaced when again entering colder latitudes and longitudes. The practice of carrying logs, merely for the purpose of ‘heaving’ them is of questionable propriety, and will form a subject for future enquiry.”
Admiralty Reforms.
The following appointments have recently been created at the Admiralty, to which salaries of £1000 a-year each are attached;
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As Slang is a species of parody of our mother tongue, and as many songs are written in it, it must be alluded to in this Collection, however briefly.
A few examples will be quoted, followed by a bibliography, including mention also of Dictionaries devoted to Satirical and Political slang.
Thieves slang, or “cant,” is of multifold origin, but is mainly derived from Romany or gipsy talk, with an admixture of Anglo-Saxon, Latin, and French words.
Rhyming and back-slang are two other forms of purely native manufacture, both arbitrary, and artificial in their construction.
By the former any word that rhymes with the one that is intended is substituted for it, and gradually becomes accepted. This method is somewhat complicated, and is, of course, almost unintelligible to the uninitiated, which is precisely why it is adopted by thieves and their associates.
Back-slang is largely patronised by costermongers. It consists in spelling backwards the principal words in a sentence, with more or less accuracy. Thus, “Hi, yob! kool that enif elrig with the nael ekom. Ssap her a top o’ reeb and a tib of occabot,” simply means “Hi boy! look at that fine girl with the lean moke. Pass her a pot of beer and a bit of tobacco.”
Although slang is principally indulged in by the lower orders and criminal classes, it must not be forgotten that many slang words have been adopted and incorporated into 271 our general language, to say nothing of Americanisms, which are also constantly being absorbed. Every profession, too, has its slang, or technical language, which is mainly unintelligible to the outside world. Thus Soldiers, Sailors, Engineers, Doctors, and Lawyers, have their own phraseology, but what is most objectionable is the Clerical slang. This imparts a fine full flavoured tone of hypocrisy to any ordinary conversation by dragging in “D.V.” references to the Deity, and the quotation of scraps of Holy writ in the most unnecessary profusion, and in the most unseemly contrast with trivial statements of every day life.
From “Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France.” by G. W. M. Reynolds. (Chapter 26.)
(The following postscript seems to have been added when the Warder had passed.)
Note.—We subjoin a Glossary of Mr. Cracksman’s
lingo:—
[Transcriber's Note: See footnotes [86]-[101].]
Punch. January 31, 1857.
From The Individual. November 15, 1836. Cambridge. W. H. Smith.
Generalizations have been made from which it appears that certain localities have peculiar productive qualities in the manufacture of criminals, thus London for sharpers, Brummagem for thieves, Paris for fly men (window thieves) Sheffield for pilchers of snyde (coiners and utterers.)
As to the ultimate destinations of these gentlemen one of themselves has put the various establishments in verse, thus recounting their merits:—
Another equally good authority thus describes them:—
Clear out—Look Sharp!
Song commonly sung by tramps and thieves at a general Rendezvous before they divide into parties, to stroll about the country.
As this song is so old some of the expressions are obsolete, and their explanations are somewhat conjectural. The first verse translated reads as follows:—
This was first printed in “The English Rogue: Described in the Life of Meriton Latroon, a Witty Extravagant. Being a Compleat History of the most Eminent Cheats of both sexes. London, Printed for Henry Marsh, at the Princes Arms in Chancery Lane, 1665.”
This curious work was reprinted by Chatto and Windus in 1874.
From “Harlequin Sheppard.” Acted at Drury Lane Theatre, 1724.
274The Canter’s Serenade.
(Sung early in the morning, at the Barn doors where their Doxies have reposed during the night.)
From The History of Bampfylde-Moore Carew, King of the Mendicants. London, 1749.
A Flash Anecdote.
I buzzed a bloak and a shakester of a reader and a skin. My jomer stalled. A cross cove, who had his regulars, called out “cop bung,” so as a pig was marking, I speeled to the crib, where I found Jim had been pulling down sawney for grub. He cracked a case last night and fenced the swag. He told me as Bill had flimped a yack and pinched a swell of a fawney, he sent the yack to church and got three finnups and a cooter for the fawney.
Translation.
I picked the pockets of a gentleman and lady of a pocket book and a purse. My fancy girl screened me from observation. A fellow thief, who shared my plunder, called out to me to hand over the stolen property, so as someone was observing my actions, I ran off to the house, where Jim had 276 some bacon he had stolen from a shop door. He broke into a house last night, and had sold the stolen property. He told me that Bill had hustled a man and stolen his watch, and had also robbed a gentleman of a ring. He had sent the watch to have its works removed, and had got three five pound notes and a sovereign for the ring.
From Poverty, Mendicity and Crime, 1839.
From The Vulgar Tongue, by Ducange Anglicus. London, Bernard Quaritch, 1857.
From The Life and Times of James Catnach, by Charles Hindley. London, Reeves and Turner. 1878.
A French translation of this poem was written by the Rev. Francis Mahony, see “The Works of Father Prout.” London, George Routledge & Sons, 1881.
This is taken from A Pedlar’s Pack of Ballads and Songs collected by W. H. Logan, (Edinburgh: William Paterson, 1869) which work contains some dozen cant songs, of which the best have been quoted. The others are so “Flash” in language that they could only be clearly interpreted by a regular Patter Cove.
The vein of sentiment that pervades this lament is almost too fine to be genuine in such a production.
Many of the other words are also flash, but are so generally understood that it is quite unnecessary to translate them.
The following handbill is worthy of a place in this collection; the Slang Dictionary will explain its meaning. Its words are, however, fully understood by many “downy” customers;
Once Try You’ll Come Again
TO
Harris, The Slap-Up-Tog
and out and out
Kicksies Builder.
Well known throughout all England.
Mr. H. nabs the chance of putting his customers awake that he has just made his escape from India, not forgetting to clap his mawleys upon some of the right sort of stuff, when on his return home he was stunned to find one of the top Manufacturers of Manchester had cut his lucky, and stepped off to the Swan Stream, leaving behind him a valuable stock of Moleskins, Cords, Velveteens, Box Cloths, Plushes, Doe Skins, Pilots, &c., and having some ready in his kick—grabbed the chance—stepped home with the swag—and is now safely landed at his crib. He can turn out Toggery very slap at the following low prices for
Ready Gilt—Tick being No Go.
Upper Benjamins, built on a downy plan, a monarch to half a finnuff. Fishing or Shooting Togs, or Slap up Velveteen Togs, lined with the same, cut slap, 1 pound, 1 quarter and a peg. A Fancy Sleeve Blue Plush or Pilot ditto, made very saucy, a couter. Pair of Kerseymere or Doeskin Kicksies, built very slap with the artful dodge, a canary. Pair of Bath or Worsted Cords, cut to drop down on the trotters, a quid. Pair of out and out cords, built very serious, 9 bob and a kick. Pair of stout Broad Cords, built in the Melton Mowbray style, half a sov. Pair of Moleskins, built hanky spanky, with double fakement down the sides and artful buttons at the bottom, half a monarch.
Mud Pipes, Knee Caps & Trotter Cases built very low.
A decent allowance made to Seedy Swells, Tea Kettle
Purgers, Head Robbers, and Flunkeys out of Collar.
N.B.—Gentlemen finding their own Broady can be accommodated.
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The distinctions between Slang and Cant are well defined by Hotten. “Cant,” he says, “is old, whilst Slang is always modern and changing. To illustrate the difference: a thief in Cant language would term a horse a Prancer or Prad; while in Slang a man of fashion would speak of it as a Bit of Blood, a Spanker, or a neat tit.”
Cant was formed for the purpose of secrecy in roguery, Slang is commonly indulged in from a desire to appear familiar with the life, gaiety, town humour, and street jokes of the day. Cant and Slang are often used as synonyms, which is erroneous, they are distinct terms, and should be kept so.
Then there is what is commonly known as “Daily Telegraphese,” or the “high falutin” style. This arose from the invincible objection an inferior class of journalists had to writing of a spade as a spade, it must be called an “agricultural implement.” Examples of this may be found any day in the leaders of the Daily Telegraph, (London) a journal which whilst owned by Jews is especially conspicuous for its cant about Christianity and the Established Church. The parade of irrelevant learning, the mythological allusions dug up from the almost inaccessible depths of Lemprière, and the Latin verses cheaply filched from Dictionaries of Quotations, can only impose on imperfectly educated readers, to persons of any literary culture they are simply nauseating.
On page 251 Jerry Juniper’s Chaunt (“Nix my dolly pals”) was given, it is the somewhat abbreviated version which is commonly sung, the full text, with a glossary, will be found in Ainsworth’s entertaining novel Rookwood.
This work contains other cant songs, and in his Preface Mr. Ainsworth makes the following remarks upon them:—
“As I have casually alluded to the flash song of Jerry Juniper, I may be allowed to make a few observations upon this branch of versification. It is somewhat curious with a dialect so racy, idiomatic, and plastic as our own cant, that its metrical capabilities should have been so little essayed. The French have numerous chansons d’argot, ranging from the time of Charles Bourdigné and Villon down to that of Vidocq and Victor Hugo, the last of whom has enlivened the horrors of his “Dernier Jour d’un Condamné” by a festive song of this class. The Spaniards possess a large collection of Romances de Germania, by various authors, amongst whom Quevedo holds a distinguished place. We on the contrary, have scarcely any slang songs of merit. This barreness is not attributable to the poverty of the soil, but to the want of due cultivation. Materials are at hand in abundance, but there have been few operators. Dekker, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Ben Jonson, have all dealt largely in this jargon, but not lyrically; and one of the earliest and best specimens of a canting-song occurs in Brome’s ‘Jovial Crew;’ and in the ‘Adventures of Bamfylde Moore Carew’ there is a solitary ode addressed by the mendicant fraternity to their newly-elected monarch; but it has little humour, and can scarcely be called a genuine canting-song. This ode brings us down to our own time; to the effusions of the illustrious Pierce Egan; to Tom Moore’s Flights of ‘Fancy;’ to John Jackson’s famous chant, ‘On the High Toby Spice flash the Muzzle,’ cited by Lord Byron in a note to ‘Don Juan;’ and to the glorious Irish ballad, worth them all put together, entitled ‘The Night before Larry was stretched.’ This is attributed to the late Dean Burrowes, of Cork. It is worthy of note, that almost all modern aspirants to the graces of the Musa Pedestris are Irishmen. Of all rhymesters of the ‘Road,’ however, Dean Burrowes is, as yet, most fully entitled to the laurel. Larry is quite ‘the potato!’
“I venture to affirm that I have done something more than has been accomplished by my predecessors, or contemporaries, with the significant language under consideration. I have written a purely flash song; of which the great and peculiar merit consists in its being utterly incomprehensible to the uninformed understanding, while its meaning must be perfectly clear and perspicuous to the practised patterer of Romany, or Pedler’s French. I have, moreover, been the first to introduce and naturalize amongst us a measure which, though common enough in the Argotic minstrelsy of France, has been hitherto utterly unknown to our pedestrian poetry. Some years after the song alluded to, better known under the title of ‘Nix my dolly, pals,—fake away!’ sprang into extraordinary popularity, being set to music by Rodwell, and chanted by glorious Paul Bedford and clever little Mrs. Keeley.”
Of course Mr. Ainsworth is in error in his claim to have written the first purely flash song, if indeed that is what he claims in his somewhat ambiguous sentence on the subject.
Detached Slang phrases may be found in the writings of most of our principal novelists—in Swift, Addison, Henry Fielding, Lord Lytton, Harrison Ainsworth, and Charles Dickens they abound. Professor Wilson and Dr. Maginn were also authorities on Slang.
Our older dramatists introduced Slang largely into 282 their plays, notably Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Richard Brome, Thomas Middleton, Thomas Decker, the Duke of Buckingham, and more recently R. B. Sheridan and Moncrieff.
Our dear little friend Notes and Queries (London) contains many hundreds of references, explanations, and etymologies of Cant, Slang, and Flash, to which access can be readily obtained by reference to the indices of that ably conducted journal.
As a general remark on the songs which have been quoted, it should be borne in mind that prior to 1829 the punishment of death was inflicted for many offences which are now considered trivial, hence the frequent references they contain to hanging, and the gallows.
The Printer’s Epitaph.
From Songs of the Press, and other Poems relative to the Art of Printing. Collected by C. H. Timperley. London: Fisher, Son & Co., 1845.
This work contains a large number of Poems and Parodies in Printer’s Slang, and has a good glossary of the technical terms and Slang used in printing offices.
——:o:——
Chronologically Arranged.
“A Caveat or Warening for Common Cursetors, vulgarly called Vagabones, set forth by Thomas Harman, Esquier, for the utilitie and proffyt of hys naturall Countrey, newly augumented and imprynted Anno Domini, 1567. Viewed, examined and allowed according unto the Queene Majesteyes injunctions. Imprinted at London, in Fletestret, at the signe of the Faulcon, by Wylliam Gryffith, and are to be solde at his shoppe in Saynt Dunstones Churche Yard in the West.”—This is generally acknowledged to have been the first work of its kind, namely, an attempt to form a Cant Dictionary. It was first printed in black letter, there have been several later editions, and Hotten in his Slang Dictionary reprints from it what he terms the “Rogues’ Dictionary.” This vocabulary contains about 150 entries.
A reprint of Harman’s Caveat, with illustrations and interesting notes, was published by Reeves and Turner in 1871, in Mr. Charles Hindley’s Old Book Collector’s Miscellany.
The Fraternatye of Vacabondes, etc. Imprinted at London by John Awdeley, 1575.—Supposed to have been either written by Harman, or taken from his works.
The Bellman of London, by Thomas Decker.—Contains an account of the Canting Language. Black letter. London, 1608.
Lanthorne and Candle-light, or the Bellman’s Second Night’s Walke.—By Thomas Decker. London. 1608-9 This is a continuation of Decker’s former work, and contains the Canter’s Dictionary. There were numerous editions of Decker’s works on this subject.
“Villanies discovered by Lanthorne and Candle-light, and the helpe of a new crier called O Per se O. Being an addition to the Bel-man’s second night-walke; and laying open to the world of those abuses, which the Bel-man (because he went i’th darke) could not see. With Canting Songs, and other new conceits never before Printed.” By Thomas Decker. Newly corrected and enlarged. Small quarto. London, Aug Mathewes, 1620. Very rare, and curious as containing a complete description of the thieving and swindling population of London at that time, with a Cant Vocabulary and Slang songs. There were several Editions of this work.
The English Rogue, described in the Life of Meriton Latroon, a witty Extravagant. By Richard Head, 1671-80. This contains a list of Cant words, partly taken from Decker’s works.
Canting Academy; or, Villanies Discovered, wherein are shown the Mysterious and Villanous Practices of that Wicked Crew—Hectors, Trapanners, Gilts, etc., Also a Compleat Canting Dictionary. Compiled by Richard Head. 1674.
Ladies’ Dictionary, by Dunton, London, 1694.
Dictionary of the Canting Crew (Ancient and Modern), of Gypsies, Beggars, Thieves, &c. About 1700.
New Dictionary of the Terms (Ancient and Modern), of the Canting Crew in its several Tribes. By B. E. Gent. About 1710.—This work was the foundation of Bacchus and Venus, 1737, and of The Scoundrel’s Dictionary, 1754.
Regulator; or, a Discovery of the Thieves, Thief-takers, and Jocks, in and about London. With an account of all the Flash Words now in vogue amongst the thieves. By Charles Hitching, formerly City Marshall. London, 1718.
Complete History of the Lives and Robberies of the most notorious Highwaymen, Footpads, Shop-lifters, and Cheats in and about London and Westminster. By Captain A. Smith. London, 1719.—This contains “The Thieves New Canting Dictionary of the Words, Proverbs, &c., used by Thieves.”
The Thieves’ Grammar. By Captain Alexander Smith. About 1720.
The Thieves’ Dictionary, by the same author. 1724.
Canting Dictionary; comprehending all the Terms used by Gipsies, Beggars, Shoplifters, Highwaymen, Footpads, etc., with a collection of Songs in the Canting Dialect. A rechauffé of earlier works, 1725.
The Golden Cabinet of Secrets, with a Canting Dictionary, by Dr. Surman. In seven parts. London, about 1730.
The Triumph of Wit, or Ingenuity displayed, with the mystery and art of Canting, and Poems in the Canting Language, J. Clarke, 1735.
Etymological English Dictionary. By Nathaniel Bailey, 2 Vols., 1737. A collection of ancient and modern Cant words appears as an appendix to this edition.
Bacchus and Venus; or a select Collection of Songs in the Canting Dialect, etc., with a Dictionary explaining the Canting Terms. 1731. Founded on B. E. Gent’s New Dictionary.
The Life of an English Rogue. By Jeremy Sharp, 1740.—This contains a vocabulary of Gypsies’ Cant.
283 The History and Curious Adventures of Bampfylde-Moore Carew, King of the Mendicants. The first edition was published by R. Goodby, London, 1749.—This is a very common book, it should contain “A vocabulary of words used by the Scottish Gipsies,” “A few sentences in the Gipsy Language,” and “A Dictionary of the Cant Language generally used by mendicants.” These are incomplete and unsatisfactory.
History of the Lives and Actions of Jonathan Wild, Blueskin, and John Sheppard; together with a Canting Dictionary, by Jonathan Wild, 1750.
The Sportsman’s Dictionary. No date. Contains low sporting and pugilistic terms.
Scoundrel’s Dictionary, or an Explanation of the Cant words used by Thieves, House Breakers, Street Robbers, and Pickpockets about Town, 1754. A reprint of Bacchus and Venus, 1737.
The Triumph of Wit, or the Canting Dictionary. Dublin, about 1760.
The Discoveries of John Poulter. About 1770.—With an explanation of the “Language of Thieves, commonly called Cant.”
Dictionary of the English Language, by Dr. John Ash, 1775.—Containing low, vulgar, slang, and cant terms.
New and Complete Dictionary of the English Language. By John Ash, L.L.D., 1775.—Contains Cant words and phrases.
A View of Society in High and Low Life. By George Parker, 1781.
The Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. By Francis Grose.—The first edition was published in 1785. This is the foundation of most of the Slang Dictionaries which have since been compiled. Although it is one of the most indecent books ever printed in the English language it must be admitted that it was, at the time it appeared, the most complete and important Dictionary of street language, based on personal enquiry, and acquaintance with the habits of those who used “Cant.”
The Whole Art of Thieving and Defrauding Discovered; to which is added an Explanation of most of the Cant terms in the Thieving Language. 1786.
Life’s Painter of Variegated Characters, with a Dictionary of Cant Language and Flash Songs. By George Parker, 1789.
New Dictionary of all the Cant and Flash Languages, both ancient and modern, used by Gipsies, Beggars, Swindlers, Footpads, Highwaymen, etc. By H. T. Potter, of Clay, Worcestershire. 1790.
Dictionary of all the Cant and Flash Languages, both ancient and modern. By Bailey. 1790.
New Dictionary of all the Cant and Flash Languages used by every class of Offenders, from a Lully Prigger to a High Tober Gloak. 179—
A Political Dictionary: Explaining the True Meaning of Words. By the late Charles Pigott, Esq. London: D. I. Eaton, 1795.—A satirical work directed against the Monarchy, the Aristocracy, and the Government of the day, in the form of a dictionary.
Blackguardiana; or, Dictionary of Rogues, Bawds, etc. By James Caulfield. 1795.
A coarse work, mainly founded on Grose’s “Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue.”
Dictionary of all the Cant and Flash Languages. London. 1797.
Anecdotes of the English Language, chiefly regarding the Local dialect of London and Environs. By Samuel Pegge. 1803.
Dictionary of the Slang and Cant Languages, Ancient and Modern. By George Andrews. A sixpenny pamphlet. London, 1809.
A Dictionary of Buckish Slang, University Wit, and Pickpocket Eloquence. 1811.
Lexicon Balatronicum. A Dictionary of Buckish Slang, University Wit, and Pickpocket Eloquence, compiled originally by Captain Grose, and now considerably altered and enlarged by a member of the Whip Club, assisted by Hell-Fire Dick, etc. London: C. Chappel, Pall Mall, 1811. With a folding plate by G. Cruikshank, entitled “Bang up Dinner; or, Love and Lingo.” This is a very comprehensive slang dictionary, containing extracts from flash songs and dialogues. It is exceedingly coarse and indelicate, and is consequently very scarce.
Bang-up Dictionary; or, the Lounger and Sportsman’s Vade Mecum. A Glossary of the Language of the Whips. 1812.
London Guide and Stranger’s Safeguard, against Cheats, Swindlers, and Pickpockets, By William Perry. 1818. Contains a Dictionary of Slang Words.
Life of the Count de Vaux, written by Himself, to which is added a Canting Dictionary. 1819.
These memoirs were suppressed.
Tom Crib’s Memorial to Congress: With a Preface, Notes, and Appendix. By One of the Fancy. London, Longmans & Co., 1819. There were several Editions. This has been ascribed to Thomas Moore, it contains a parody of one of his poems, most of the other pieces contained in this little volume are descriptive of prize fights, and abound in slang; the burlesque preface and footnotes, are interesting, learned, and explanatory.
There is also a translation from the Fifth Book of Virgil’s Æneid in Slang, entitled “Account of the Milling-match between Entellus and Dares.”
* * * * *
Boxiana; or, Sketches of Modern Pugilism, by Pierce Egan. London, 1820.
This is more particularly devoted to the Prize-ring, and its technicalities.
The Fancy: A selection from the Poetical Remains of the late Peter Corcoran, of Gray’s Inn, Student at Lawe London, Taylor & Hessey. 1820. This is written in imitation of Tom Crib’s Memorial to Congress, and is generally ascribed to James Smith, one of the authors of The Rejected Addresses. It abounds in cant, slang, and terms of the prize ring, and has a short glossary of terms.
The True History of Tom and Jerry; or, The Day and Night scenes of Life in London, with a Glossary of Slang. By Pierce Egan. About 1820.
Flash Dictionary of the Cant Words, Queer Sayings, and Crack Terms now in use in Flash Cribb Society. By Mr. Duncombe. 1820.
Jack Randall’s Diary of Proceedings at the Souse of Call for Genius. This is supposed to have been written by Thomas Moore, it contains numerous Slang parodies, relating to pugilism and fast life in London. 1820. Jack Randall was an ex-pugilist, who kept a 284 public-house called the Hole-in-the-Wall, Chancery Lane, frequented by the “fancy.” He died in 1828.
Essayes and Characters of a Prison and Prisoners. (Mynshull) Edinburgh, 1821. Contains an account of the Cant used in the prison.
Life of David Haggart, written by himself while under sentence of Death. With a glossary of the Slang and Cant Words of the Day. 1821.
Life in St. George’s Fields; or, the Rambles and Adventures of Disconsolate William, Esq., and his Surrey Friend, Flash Dick, with Songs and a Flash Dictionary. 1821.
A Political Dictionary; or, Pocket Companion:—Chiefly designed for the use of Members of Parliament, Whigs, Tories, Loyalists, Magistrates, Clergymen, Half-pay Officers, Worshipful Aldermen and Reviewers; being an Illustration and Commentary on all Words, Phrases, and Proper Names in the Vocabulary of Corruption. With biographical illustrations from the lives of the most celebrated Corruptionists in Church and State. By the Editor of the “Black Book.” London: T. Dolby. 1821.
This work, which has a strong Radical bias, is satirically dedicated to the odious Lord Castlereagh, and is very outspoken in its denunciations of Bribery, Corruption, Pensioners, and Placemen, as witness the definition it gives of “Laureate (Poet),” “A fellow who barters his principles for a hundred pounds a year and a butt of sack.” This gibe was directed at the renegade republican Robert Southey, then Poet Laureate.
The Man of the World’s Dictionary. Anonymous. London: J. Appleyard. 1822.
Translated from the Dictionnaire des Gens du Monde, a satirical work in the form of a dictionary.
Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose, revised and corrected, with the addition of numerous Slang Phrases, collected from tried authorities, by Pierce Egan. London. 1823.—This is the best edition of Grose’s work.
Dictionary of the Turf, the Ring, the Chase, the Pit, the Bon Ton, and the Varieties of Life, by John Bee, (i.e., John Badcock). 1823.
Gradus ad Cantabrigiam; or New University Guide to the Academical Customs, and Colloquial or Cant terms peculiar to The University of Cambridge. By a Brace of Cantabs. London. J. Hearne. 1824.—This is written in the form of a Dictionary, and contains some excellent parodies.
The Modern Flash Dictionary, containing all the Cant Words, Slang Terms, and Flash Phrases now in vogue. By E. Kent. 1825.
Modern Flash Dictionary, 48mo. 1825.—The smallest Slang Dictionary ever printed.
Sportsman’s Slang; A new Dictionary of Terms used in the affairs of the Turf, the Ring, the Chase, and the Cockpit. By John Bee (J. Badcock). 1825.
My Thought Book, by J. Thomas, 1825.—Contains a chapter on Slang.
Living Picture of London for 1828, and Strangers’ Guide through the streets of the Metropolis; showing the Frauds, the Arts, Snares and Wiles of all descriptions of Rogues, &c., 1828.—Giving an insight into the language of the streets.
Mornings at Bow Street. By T. Wright, London, 1838. Contains Etymologies of a few Slang Words.
Poverty, Mendicity, and Crime; or the Facts, Examinations, &c. upon which the Report was founded, Presented to the House of Lords by W. A. Miles, Esq., to which is added a Dictionary of the Flash or Cant Language, known to every Thief and Beggar. Edited by H. Brandon, Esq., London; Shaw & Sons, 1839.—The Flash Dictionary only extends to six pages, followed by two examples of “flash” conversation, the first of which has already been quoted.
Sinks of London laid open, a Pocket Companion for the uninitiated, to which is added a Modern Flash Dictionary, with a List of the 60 orders of Prime Coves, the whole forming a True Picture of London Life, Cadging made Easy, the He-She Man, Smoking Kens, Lessons to Lovers, &c. With illustrations, by George Cruikshank, London, 1848.
London Labour and London Poor, 4 vols. By Henry Mayhew. London, 1851.
In the Great World of London, written by the same gentleman, there is also some information about Cant and Slang Words.
Magistrates’ Assistant and Constables’ Guide. By Snowden, 1852.—Contains a “Glossary of the Flash Language.”
Archaic Dictionary, by J. O. Halliwell, 2 vols. 1855.
The Vulgar Tongue: comprising two glossaries of Slang, Cant and Flash words and phrases, principally used in London at the present day. By Ducange Anglicus. London: Bernard Quaritch, 1857. Only 250 copies were printed of this edition. The first Glossary was original, the second was merely a reprint from the report entitled Poverty, Mendicity, and Crime, which see. It also contains The Leary Man, a Flash Song, and a Tailor’s Handbill in Slang, both of which have already been quoted.
Essay on Church Parties. By Dean Conybeare, containing examples of clerical, or pulpit Slang. 1858.
The Slang Dictionary; or, the Vulgar words, Street Phrases and “Fast” expressions of High and Low Society. This was first published in London by John Camden Hotten in 1859 as The Dictionary of Modern Slang, Cant, and Vulgar words, a second edition appeared in 1860; the above named which appeared in 1864, contained much more matter than its predecessors. There have been several editions published more recently. Speaking in a general sense this appears to be by far the most interesting, as it is also the most useful work on Slang for modern readers. Naturally it contains a few coarse and vulgar expressions, but none of an obscene or indelicate description. It has a bibliography of Slang and Cant, which is, however, incomplete.
The History of a Manchester Cadger; narrated in his own language. Price, one penny.—This was an impudent theft from Hotten’s Slang Dictionary.
Miss Polly-Glott’s Dictionary of the Future.—This was a satirical Dictionary which appeared in several parts of The Girl of the Period Miscellany. London. 1869.
A Pedlar’s Pack of Ballads and Songs. By W. H. Logan. Edinburgh; William Paterson. 1869.—This contains about a dozen slang songs, the best of which have been already quoted.
285 The Shotover Papers, or Echoes from Oxford. Oxford. J. Vincent. 1874-75.—This contains numerous specimens of the slang in use in the Oxford Colleges.
The Life and Times of James Catnach, (late of Seven Dials) Ballad Monger. By Charles Hindley. London. Reeves and Turner. 1878.—Contains old Cant Ballads, and notes on Thieves and their haunts.
Macmillan’s Magazine, October, 1879. Autobiography of a Thief, by Rev. J. W. Horsley.—See also Jottings from Jail. 1887.
Flights of Fancy by E. L. Blanchard. London: E. W. Allen, 1882. This has a more explanatory sub-title; “The Comic Encyclopædia, a Dictionary of Definitions for the use of Punsters,” this in reality is a humorous and satirical dictionary. This work originally appeared in parts in the early numbers of Fun. London.
Jottings from Jail; Notes and Papers on Prison matters. By the Rev. J. W. Horsley M.A., London. T. Fisher Unwin, 1887.
This contains “An Autobiography of a Thief, in Cant or Thieves’ language,” which had previously appeared in Macmillan’s Magazine for October, 1879. This was also reprinted, with a French translation, in Mr. A. Barrère’s splendid work Argot and Slang.
The A. B. C. of a New Dictionary of Flash, Cant, Slang and Vulgar Words, Proverbs and Provincialisms, their Explication and Illustration. On the basis of Bailey and Grose. London, no date, but probably printed about 1866. This exceedingly scarce and rather coarse little book (110 pages) has no author’s or publisher’s name. It only deals with the first three letters of the alphabet, and was evidently intended as the first instalment of a very complete dictionary, an intention which was not carried into effect. Only a few copies were printed.
New Canting Dictionary. N.D.
A new Dictionary of the Jaunting Crew. N.D.
The Gipsy Vocabulary, Edited by W. Pinkerton.
Every Day Life in our Public Schools. By C. E. Pascoe. London.
The Seven Curses of London. By James Greenwood.
A Supplementary English Glossary. By T. L. O. Davies. London, 1881.
“The True History of Tom and Jerry; or The Day and Night Scenes of Life in London from the Start to the Finish! With a key to the Persons and Places, together with a Vocabulary and Glossary of the Flash and Slang terms occurring in the course of the work.” By Charles Hindley. London, Reeves & Turner, 1889.
This is a reprint of Pierce Egan’s Tom and Jerry and The Finish to the Adventures of Tom, Jerry, and Logic, with an interesting and profusely illustrated introduction, by Mr. Hindley. The Glossary has been revised and brought down to date, and altogether the book is as curious and as amusing a record of “Life in London” seventy years ago as can be desired. Only two hundred and fifty copies have been printed.
A Dictionary of Slang, Jargon, and Cant, embracing English, American, and Anglo-Indian Slang, Pidgin English, Tinkers’ Jargon, and other irregular Phraseology, compiled and edited by Albert Barrère and Charles G. Leland. Printed, for subscribers only, at the Ballantyne Press. 1889. Only the first volume (A to K) of this work has as yet been issued.
AMERICAN AND COLONIAL SLANG.
Essays on Americanisms, Perversions of Language in the United States, Cant Phrases, &c.—By Dr. Witherspoon, Philadelphia, 1801.
Probably the earliest work on Americanisms.
Vocabulary, or Collection of Words and Phrases which have been supposed to be peculiar to the United States of America. By F. Pickering, Boston, 1816.
Letter to the Hon. John Pickering, on the subject of his Vocabulary, or Collection of Words and Phrases supposed to be peculiar to the United States. By Noah Webster, Boston, 1817.
Collection of College Words and Customs. By B. H. Hall. Cambridge (U.S.) 1856.
Dictionary of Americanisms; a Glossary of Words and Phrases colloquially used in the United States. By John Russell Bartlett. New York, 1859.
Glossary of supposed Americanisms; Vulgar and Slang words used in the United States, by Alfred L. Elwyn. 1859.
Gazetteer of Georgia, U.S. By Sherwood. This contains a glossary of the Slang and Vulgar words peculiar to the Southern States of the U.S.A.
A Handbook of Sayings and Phrases. By J. A. Mair. London, George Routledge and Sons. About 1880. This useful little work contains not only many English Slang Words, but also a collection of American Words and Phrases.
Americanisms, Old and New, being a collection of words, phrases, and colloquialisms peculiar to the United States British America, the West Indies, etc. By John S. Farmer. Privately printed 1889. This contains a good many words pertaining to transatlantic cant, or thieves’ slang. An amusing article on this book appeared in The Daily News, January 31, 1889.
School Life at Winchester College, giving an account of the Language of Ziph. By Professor Mansfield.
——:o:——
CONTINENTAL BOOKS OF REFERENCE ON “ARGOT” OR SLANG.
La Comédie des Proverbes. Par Adrien de Montluc. 1633.
Dictionnaire des Halles. Bruxelles, 1696. A scarce and very curious slang dictionary.
Dictionnaire Comique, Satyrique, Critique, Burlesque, Libre et Proverbial. Avec une explication très-fidèle de toutes les manières de parler Burlesques, Comiques, Libres, Satyriques, Critiques et Proverbiales, qui peuvent se rencontrer dans les meilleurs Auteurs, tant anciens que modernes. Par Philibert Joseph Le Roux. Lyons, 1735. Other editions 1752 and 1786.
(The editor’s copy of this curious work was published by Michel Charles le Cene, at Amsterdam, 1718, and was purchased in July 1889, at Sotheby’s sale of the Library of the Right Hon. and Reverend the Earl of Buckinghamshire.)
Le Poissardiana. 1756.
Amusements à la Grecque, ou les Soirées de la Halle. Par un Ami de feu Vadé. Paris, 1764.
Amusements rapsodi-poétiques. 1773.
Nouveau Dictionnaire Proverbial, Satirique et Burlesque. Plus complet que ceux qui ont paru jusqu’à ce jour, à l’usage de tout le monde. Par A. Caillot. Paris. Dauvin, 1826.
Illustrated by many interesting quotations from the old French classical writers.
286 Dictionnaire d’Argot, ou la Langue des Voleurs devoilée, contenant les moyens de se mettre en garde contre les Ruses des Filous. Paris. 1830 (?)
Histoire de Collet et de plusieurs autres Voleurs anciens et modernes, suivie d’un Dictionnaire Argot-Francais. Paris, 1849.
Macaroneana, ou Mélange de Littérature Macaronique des différents Peuples de l’Europe. Par Octave Delepierre. 1852.
Etudes de Philologie comparée sur l’Argot. Par Francisque Michel. Paris. 1856.
Dictionnaire d’Argot, ou Etudes de Philologie comparée sur l’Argot. Par Francisque Michel. Paris. 1856.
Le Dictionnaire des Précieuses. Par A. B. de Somaize. Nouvelle edition par Ch. L. Livet. 1856.
Récréations Philologiques. Par F. Génin. Paris. 1858.
Liber Vagatorum. Der Betler Orden. The Book of Vagabonds and Beggars, with a vocabulary of their Language. Now first translated into English, with Notes, by John Camden Hotten. 4to. London. 1859.—For an account of this work see Hotten’s Slang Dictionary.
Glossaire Erotique de la Langue Française. Par Louis de Landes. Bruxelles, 1861.
Curiosités de l’Etymologie française. Par Charles Nisard. Paris, 1863.
Vocabulaire des Houilleurs Liégois. Par S. Bormans. 1864.
Dictionnaire de la Langue Verte, par Alfred Delvau. Paris. Second edition, 1867.
Almanach de la Langue Verte pour l’année 1868, à l’usage des Bons Zigues.
Almanach Chantant. 1869.
Dictionnaire Historique, Etymologique, et Anecdotique de l’Argot Parisien. Par L. Larchey. Paris, 1872. (There have been several editions of this work).
De quelques Parisianismes populaires et autres Locutions. Par Charles Nisard. Paris, 1876.
Dictionnaire Historique l’Argot. Par Lorédan Larchey. Paris, 1880.
Dictionnaire d’Argot Moderne. Par Lucien Rigaud. Paris, 1881.
Dictionnaire de l’Argot des Typographes. Par Eugène Boutmy. Paris, 1883.
Dictionnaire de l’Argot Moderne. Par L. Rigaud. Paris, 1883.
Dictionnaire de la Langue Verte, par Delvau et Fustier.
The last and best edition, with a supplement, was published in Paris in 1883.
L’Argot des Nomades en Basse-Brétagne. Par N. Quellien. Paris, 1885.
L’Argot des Nomades de la Basse-Brétagne. Par N. Quellien. Paris, 1886.
La Langue Verte du Troupier. Par Léon Merlin. Paris, 1886.
Le Jargon, ou Langage de l’Argot reformé. Epinal. N.D.
Paris Voleur. Par Pierre Delcourt. Paris, 1887.
Dictionnaire Erotique Moderne. Par un Professeur de la langue Verte. (Alfred Delvau.)
Les Formules du Docteur Grégoire, Dictionnaire du Figaro. Par A. Decourcelle. Paris: J. Hetzel. No date.
An amusing satirical work, in which many humourous definitions are arranged in the form of a dictionary.
Histoire de la Prostitution, par Léo Taxil. Paris. N.D.
Argot and Slang; a new French and English Dictionary of the Cant Words, Quaint Expressions, Slang Terms and Flash Phrases used in old and new Paris. By A. Barrère. London. Privately printed at the Chiswick Press, by C. Whittingham and Co. 1887.
This splendid work contains historical notices of the various canting languages, a number of songs both in French and English slang, and a French translation of the Rev. J. W. Horsley’s Autobiography of a Thief in Thieves’ Language.
M. Barrère gives a long list of the works he has consulted, and in the body of his book brief extracts are given to show the application and contexts of the examples.
Books on foreign slang are very numerous. Besides those already mentioned the following are well known:—“Le Jargon, ou Langage de l’Argot reformé,” &c. (à Troyés), par Yves Girardin, 1660; another by Antoine Dubois, 1680; “Le Jargon ou Langage de l’Argot reformé, pour l’instruction des bons Grivois,” &c., à Lavergne, chex Mezière, Babillandier du Grand Coëre, 1848; “Le Jargon de l’Argot,” par Techener (several editions).
Alfred Delvau published his “Dictionnaire de la Langue Verte, Argots Parisiens comparés,” in 1866, and a second edition in 1867. A third “augmentée d’un supplément par G. Fustier” appeared in 1883. The same author published the “Dictionnaire Erotique Moderne” in 1864. Other editions followed in 1874 and 1875.
Lorédan Larchey wrote “Les Excentricités de la Langue Française” in 1860; the fourth edition appeared in 1862. In 1872 the title was changed to “Dictionnaire Historique Etymologique et Anecdotique de l’Argot Parisien. Sixième Edition des Excentricités du Langage mise à la hauteur des Revolutions du Jour.” In 1880 the eighth edition was called “Dictionnaire Historique d’Argot”; and a supplement appeared in 1883.
It has not been attempted here to give more than a brief bibliography of the principal French works treating of Argot in an explanatory, or historical manner.
Those who wish to pursue the subject further, and to study examples, must consult the old poems of Maitre Francois Villon and Molière, and the writings of Rabelais, Beaumarchais, Eugene Sue, Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, Champfleury, Honoré de Balzac, Pierre de Brantôme, Alphonse Daudet, Emile Gaboriau, Charles Nodier, Jean Richepin, and the classical Memoires de Monsieur Vidocq.
A Letter of Recommendation from Cardinal Richelieu. | |
---|---|
Mr. Campoa, Savoyard and Friar, | of the holy order of St. Bennet, |
is to be the bearer to you of | some news from me, by means of |
this letter; he is one of the most | discreet, wise, and least |
vicious persons that I ever yet knew, | amongst all I have conversed with |
and hath earnestly desired me | to write to you in his favour, and |
to give him a letter for you of | credence in his behalf and my |
recommendation, which to his | merit (I assure you) rather than his |
importunity, I have granted; for | he deserves greatly your esteem, and |
I should be sorry you should be | backward to oblige him by being |
mistaken in not knowing him, | I should be concern’d if you were |
as very many others have been | already upon that account, |
who are of my best friends. | Hence, and for no other motive, |
I am desirous to advertise you | that you are obliged for my sake |
to take especial notice of him, | to pay him all possible respect, |
and to say nothing before him | that may offend or displease him |
in any sort; for I may truly | say, he is a worthy man, and |
assure you, there can’t be a more | convincing argument of an |
unworthy person in the world, | than to be able to injure him. |
I am sure, that as soon as you | cease being a stranger to his virtue, & |
have any acquaintance with him, | you will love him as well as I, and |
I shall receive thanks for the advice. | The assurance I have of your |
Civility hindereth me to write | farther of him to you, or to say |
any more on the subject. |
An invention of the like kind is the Jesuits Double-faced Creed, which was published in the history of Popery, 1679, and which, according to the different readings, may suit either Papist or Protestant.
The Jesuits Double-Faced Creed. | |
---|---|
I hold for faith | What England’s church allows, |
What Rome’s church saith | My conscience disavows. |
Where the king is head | The flock can take no shame, |
The flock’s misled | Who hold the pope supreme. |
Where the altar’s drest | The worship’s scarce divine, |
The people’s blest | Whose table’s bread and wine. |
He’s but an ass | Who their communion flies, |
Who shuns the mass | Is catholic and wise. |
In Latin. | |
---|---|
Pro fide teneo sana | Quae docet Anglicana |
Affirmat quae Romana | Videnter mihi vana, |
Supremus quando rex est | Tum plebs est fortunata, |
Erraticus tum Grex est | Cum caput fiat papa, |
Altare cum ornatur | Communio fit inanis, |
Populus tum beatur | Cum mensa vino panis, |
Asini nomen meruit | Hunc morem qui non capit, |
Missam qui deseruit | Catholicus est et sapit. |
The following lines were found in the pocket of the Marquis of Tullabardine on his death in July, 1746. Read across, the cause of the Stuart family is advocated, whilst that of the Hanoverians is pleaded if the short lines are read straight down.
I love wᵗʰ all my Heart | The Stuart’s party Here |
The Hanoverian part | Most hateful doth appear |
And for the Settlement | I ever have denied |
My Conscience gives Consent | To be on Jemmy’s side |
Most righteous is the Cause | To be for such a King |
To fight for George’s Laws | Will Britain ruin bring |
This is my Mind and Heart | In this Opinion I |
Tho’ none shoᵈ take my part | Resolve to live and die. |
Two Views of Married Life.
The first view is attained by reading the verses as they are printed, the second view appears by reading the lines alternately, the first and third, then the second and fourth.
A mangled and spoilt version of this very old poem was recently given in The Sporting Times, (September 4, 1889), as original matter.
——:o:——
Those parodies which deal with Religious and Political questions are alike in that they are both of great antiquity, and that, no matter how harmless they may be, they are sure to displease a certain proportion of their readers. Thus the parodies that were published by William Hone were both religious and political, and they gave great offence to the supporters of the government of his day, yet any history of English parody that should omit the parodies which gave rise to his three trials would be ridiculously incomplete. It is difficult to adequately treat of the topic without appearing to ridicule that which to many appears too solemn for burlesque.
But in the following pages a broad distinction has been drawn, those Parodies only have been admitted which, whilst imitating the form or language of portions of the liturgy, have no tendency to ridicule religion in itself, nor to burlesque any of its dogmas. It should be remembered that much of the phraseology we associate with the Liturgy is simply old fashioned English, such as was in common use at the time the Scriptures were translated into English, and when the services of the Church of England were first compiled. There can therefore be nothing impious in applying similar language to other subjects, and many eminent churchmen have used the liturgical forms of expression in answering and ridiculing the arguments of their opponents.
There would be little difficulty in showing that in the matter of Parodies no one creed has been less considerate of their neighbours religious opinions than the Protestants, and that, from the days of Luther, the Reformers have left no weapon unemployed which could, in their opinion, do injury to the older form of Catholicism.
When that pattern of filial devotion, Mary the Second, came over with her husband to dispossess her father of his kingdom, we read that he who, with all his faults, had been a kind father, exclaimed “Heaven help me, since even my own children desert me!” It was in the name of holy Religion that James the Second was banished from this country, and his enemies, to show how truly christianlike they were, addressed the following poem to his daughter. In this, not content with burlesquing one of the most beautiful portions of the Catholic Church service, they compare this Mary, descended from the Stuarts, with the Virgin Mary.
THE
Protestants Ave Mary,
on the
Arrival of Her most Gracious Majesty,
MARY,
Queen of England.
This poem is dated “London, 1689. Printed for R. Baldin near the Black-Bull in the Old Baily.”
289 An even earlier Parody, having a religious motive, may be found in “The Temple. Sacred Poems by Mr. George Herbert.” First printed at Cambridge in 1633, it is entitled
The Parody of Scripture may be raised above mere travesty by a vein of earnestness in the motive. Luther intended no violence to the first Psalm when he thus parodied it:—
“Blessed is the man that hath not walked in the way of the Sacramentarians, nor sat in the seat of the Zuringlians, nor followed in the Council of the Zurichers.”
The same may be said of Dr. Norman Macleod’s parody of the first chapter of Genesis:—
“Perhaps the men of science would do well, in accordance with the latest scientific results, and especially the ‘meteoric theory’ to re-write the first chapter of Genesis in this way:—
——:o:——
William Hone’s Three Trials.
In the year 1817 William Hone, a printer and publisher in the Old Bailey, London, was prosecuted by the Government for having printed and published three parodies, the first was John Wilkes’s Catechism of a Ministerial Member, the second was The Political Litany, and the third was The Sinecurist’s Creed.
The first trial was held in the Guildhall, on December 17, 1817, before Mr. Justice Abbott and a Special Jury; the second, also in the Guildhall, on December 19, 1817, before Lord Ellenborough and a Special Jury, and the third in the same place and before the same judge, on December 20, 1817.
In each case all the influence of Court and Government was brought to bear against Mr. Hone, the Attorney-General prosecuted, and the judges were distinctly adverse to the defendant. Notwithstanding all this, and that Mr. Hone, who defended himself without legal assistance, was in feeble health, in each case the Juries returned a verdict of Not Guilty, and their decisions were received with delight and applause by the London populace.
Mr. Hone, in his defence, contended that the parodies were harmless in themselves, were not intended to ridicule religion or the scriptures, and were written for purely political motives. He further contended, and indeed, proved by extracts, that parodies of a far more objectionable character than his were daily published without let or hindrance, provided that they were in favour of the Government, or written to abuse its opponents.
Directly after the trials Hone published a full account of them, with his defences, and a quantity of entertaining reading on the subject of religious and political parodies. This book had an enormous sale, it has also been recently reprinted by the Freethought Publishing Company, so that copies of it can readily be obtained.
It will therefore suffice to give only the parodies themselves here, without the evidence and speeches of the trials.
John Wilkes’s Catechism.
The late John Wilkes’s Catechism of a Ministerial Member; taken from an Original Manuscript in Mr. Wilkes’s Handwriting, never before printed,[339] and adapted to the Present Occasion. With permission.
London: Printed for one of the Candidates for the Office of Printer to the King’s Most Excellent Majesty, and Sold by William Hone, 55, Fleet Street, and 67, Old Bailey. Three Doors from Ludgate Hill. 1817. Price Two-pence.
A Catechism, that is to say, An Instruction, to be learned of every person before he be brought to be confirmed a Placeman or Pensioner by the Minister.
Question. What is your name?
Answer. Lick Spittle.
Q. Who gave you this name?
A. My Sureties to the Ministry, in my Political Change, wherein I was made a Member of the Majority, the Child of Corruption, and a Locust to devour the good Things of this Kingdom.
Q. What did your Sureties then for you?
A. They did promise and vow three things in my Name. First, that I should renounce the Reformists and all their Works, the pomps and vanity of Popular Favour, and all the sinful lusts of Independence. Secondly, that I should believe all the Articles of the Court Faith. And thirdly, that I should keep the Minister’s sole Will and Commandments, and walk in the same, all the days of my life.
Q. Dost thou not think that thou art bound to believe and to do as they have promised for thee?
A. Yes, verily, and for my own sake, so I will; and I heartily thank our heaven-born Ministry, that they have called me to this state of elevation, through my own flattery, cringing, and bribery; and I shall pray to their successors to give me their assistance, that I may continue the same unto my life’s end.
Q. Rehearse the Articles of thy Belief.
A. I believe in George, the Regent Almighty, Maker of New Streets, and Knights of the Bath,
And in the present Ministry, his only choice, who were conceived of Toryism, brought forth of William Pitt, suffered loss of Place under Charles James Fox, were execrated, dead, and buried. In a few months they rose again from their minority; they re-ascended to the Treasury 290 benches, and sit at the right hand of a little man with a large wig; from whence they laugh at the Petitions of the People who may pray for Reform, and that the sweat of their brow may procure them Bread.
I believe that King James the Second was a legitimate Sovereign, and that King William the Third was not; that the Pretender was of the right line; and that George the Third’s grandfather was not; that the dynasty of Bourbon is immortal! and that the glass in the eye of Lord James Murray was not Betty Martin. I believe in the immaculate purity of the Committee of Finance, in the independence of the Committee of Secresy, and that the Pitt System is everlasting, Amen.
Q. What dost thou chiefly learn in these Articles of thy Belief?
A. First, I learn to forswear all conscience, which was never meant to trouble me, nor the rest of the tribe of Courtiers. Secondly, to swear black is white, or white black, according to the good pleasure of the Ministers. Thirdly, to put on the helmet of Impudence, the only armour against the shafts of Patriotism.
Q. You said that your Sureties did promise for you, that you should keep the Minister’s Commandments: tell me how many there be?
A. Ten.
Q. Which be they?
A. The same to which the Minister for the time being always obliges all his creatures to swear, I, the Minister, am the Lord thy liege, who brought thee out of Want and Beggary, into the House of Commons.
I. Thou shalt have no other Patron but me.
II. Thou shalt not support any measure but mine, nor shalt thou frame clauses of any bill in its progress to the House above, or in the Committee beneath, or when the mace is under the table, except it be mine. Thou shalt not bow to Lord Cochrane, nor shake hands with him, nor any other of my real opponents; for I thy Lord am a jealous Minister, and forbid familiarity of the Majority, with the Friends of the People, unto the third and fourth cousins of them that divide against me; and give places, and thousands and tens of thousands, to them that divide with me, and keep my Commandments.
III. Thou shalt not take the Pension of thy Lord the Minister in vain; for I the Minister will force him to accept the Chilterns that taketh my Pension in vain.
IV. Remember that thou attend the Minister’s Levee day; on other days thou shalt speak for him in the House, and fetch and carry, and do all that he commandeth thee to do; but the Levee day is for the glorification of the Minister thy Lord: In it thou shalt do no work in the House, but shalt wait upon him, thou, and thy daughter, and thy wife, and the Members that are within his influence; for on other days the Minister is inaccessible, but delighteth in the Levee day; wherefore the Minister appointed the Levee day, and chatteth thereon familiarly, and is amused with it.
V. Honour the Regent and the helmets of the Life Guards, that thy stay may be long in the Place, which the Lord thy Minister giveth thee.
VI. Thou shalt not call starving to death murder.
VII. Thou shalt not call Royal gallivanting adultery.
VIII. Thou shalt not say, that to rob the Public is to steal.
IX. Thou shalt bear false witness against the people.
X. Thou shalt not covet the People’s applause, thou shalt not covet the People’s praise, nor their good name, nor their esteem, nor their reverence, nor any reward that is theirs.
Q. What dost thou chiefly learn by these Commandments?
A. I learn two things—my duty towards the Minister, and my duty towards myself.
Q. What is thy duty towards the Minister?
A. My duty towards the Minister is, to trust him as much as I can; to fear him; to honour him with all my words, with all my bows, with all my scrapes, and all my cringes; to flatter him; to give him thanks; to give up my whole soul to him; to idolize his name, and obey his word; and serve him blindly all the days of his political life.
Q. What is thy duty towards thyself?
A. My duty towards myself is to love nobody but myself, and to do unto most men what I would not that they should do unto me; to sacrifice unto my own interest even my father and mother; to pay little reverence to the King, but to compensate that omission by my servility to all that are put in authority under him; to lick the dust under the feet of my superiors, and to shake a rod of iron over the backs of my inferiors; to spare the People by neither word nor deed; to observe neither truth nor justice in my dealings with them; to bear them malice and hatred in my heart; and where their wives and properties are concerned, to keep my body neither in temperance, soberness, nor chastity, but to give my hands to picking and stealing, and my tongue to evil speaking and lying, and slander of their efforts to defend their liberties and recover their rights; never failing to envy their privileges, and to learn to get the Pensions of myself and my colleagues out of the People’s labour, and to do my duty in that department of public plunder unto which it shall please the Minister to call me.
Q. My good Courtier, know this, that thou art not able of thyself to preserve the Minister’s favour, nor to walk in his Commandments, nor to serve him, without his special protection; which thou must at all times learn to obtain by diligent application. Let me hear, therefore, if thou canst rehearse the Minister’s Memorial.
Answer.
Our Lord who art in the Treasury, whatsoever be thy name, thy power be prolonged, thy will be done throughout the empire, as it is in each session. Give us our usual sops, and forgive us our occasional absences on divisions; as we promise not to forgive them that divide against thee. Turn us not out of our places; but keep us in the House of Commons, the land of Pensions and Plenty; and deliver us from the People. Amen.
Q. What desirest thou of the Minister in this Memorial?
A. I desire the Minister, our Patron, who is the disposer of the Nation’s overstrained Taxation, to give his protection unto me and to all Pensioners and Placemen, that we may vote for him, serve him, and obey him, as far as we find it convenient; and I beseech the Minister that he will give us all things that be needful, both for our reputation and appearance in the House and out of it; that he will be favourable to us, and forgive us our negligence; that it will please him to save and defend us, in all dangers of life and limb, from the People, our natural enemies; and that he will help us in fleecing and grinding them; and this I trust he will do out of care for himself, and our support of him through our corruption and influence; and therefore I say Amen. So be it.
291 Q. How many Tests hath the Minister ordained?
A. Two only, as generally necessary to elevation; (that is to say) Passive Obedience and Bribery.
Q. What meanest thou by this word Test?
A. I mean an outward visible sign of an inward intellectual meanness, ordained by the Minister himself as a pledge to assure him thereof.
Q. How many parts are there in this Test?
A. Two; the outward visible sign, and the intellectual meanness.
Q. What is the outward visible sign or form of Passive Obedience?
A. Dangling at the Minister’s heels, whereby the person is degraded beneath the baseness of a slave, in the character of a Pensioner, Placeman, Expectant Parasite, Toadeater, or Lord of the Bedchamber.
Q. What is the inward intellectual meanness?
A. A death unto Freedom, a subjection unto perpetual Thraldom; for being by nature born free, and the children of Independence, we are hereby made children of Slavery.
Q. What is required of persons submitting to the Test of Passive Obedience?
A. Apostacy, whereby they forsake Liberty; and faith, whereby they stedfastly believe the promises of the Minister, made to them upon submitting to that Test.
Q. Why was the Test of Bribery ordained?
A. For the continual support of the Minister’s influence, and the feeding of us, his needy creatures and sycophants.
Q. What is the outward part or sign in the Test of Bribery?
A. Bank notes, which the Minister hath commanded to be offered by his dependants.
Q. Why then are beggars submitted to this Test, when by reason of their poverty they are not able to go through the necessary forms?
A. Because they promise them by their Sureties; which promise, when they come to lucrative offices, they themselves are bound to perform.
Q. What is the inward part, or thing signified?
A. The industry and wealth of the People, which are verily and indeed taken and had by Pensioners and Sinecurists, in their Corruption.
Q. What are the benefits whereof you are partakers thereby?
A. The weakening and impoverishing the People, through the loss of their Liberty and Property, while our wealth becomes enormous, and our pride intolerable.
Q. What is required of them who submit to the Test of Bribery and Corruption?
A. To examine themselves, whether they repent them truly of any signs of former honour and patriotism, stedfastly purposing henceforward to be faithful towards the Minister; to draw on and off like his glove, to crouch to him like a spaniel; to purvey for him like a jackall; to be as supple to him as Alderman Sir William Turtle; to have the most lively faith in the Funds, especially in the Sinking Fund; to believe the words of Lord Castlereagh alone; to have remembrance of nothing but what is in the Courier; to hate Matthew Wood, the present Lord Mayor, and his second Mayoralty; with all our heart, with all our mind, with all our soul, and with all our strength; to admire Sir John Silvester, the Recorder, and Mr. John Langley; and to be in charity with those only who have something to give.
[Here endeth the Catechism.]
The Political Litany.
¶ Here followeth the Litany, or General Supplication, to be said or sung at all times when thereunto especially moved.
O Prince, ruler of the people, have mercy upon us thy miserable subjects.
O Prince, ruler, &c.
O House of Lords, hereditary legislators, have mercy upon us, pension-paying subjects.
O House of Lords, &c.
O House of Commons, proceeding from corrupt borough-mongers, have mercy upon us, your should-be constituents.
O House of Commons, &c.
O gracious, noble, right honourable, and learned rulers of our land, three estates in one state, have mercy upon us, a poverty-stricken people.
O gracious, noble, &c.
Remember not, most gracious, most noble, right honourable, and honourable gentlemen, our past riches, nor the riches of our forefathers; neither continue to tax us according to our long-lost ability—spare us, good rulers; spare the people who have supported ye with their labour, and spilt their most precious blood in your quarrels; O consume us not utterly,
Spare us, good Prince.
From an unnational debt; from unmerited pensions and sinecure places; from an extravagant civil list; and from utter starvation,
Good Prince, deliver us.
From the blind imbecility of ministers; from the pride and vain-glory of warlike establishments in time of peace,
Good Prince, deliver us.
From all the deadly sins attendant on a corrupt method of election; from all the deceits of the pensioned hirelings of the press,
Good Prince, deliver us.
From taxes levied by distress; from jails crowded with debtors; from poor-houses overflowing with paupers,
Good Prince, deliver us.
From a Parliament chosen only by one-tenth of the taxpayers; from taxes raised to pay wholesale human butchers their subsidies; from the false doctrines, heresy, and schism, which have obscured our once-glorious constitution; from conspiracies against the liberty of the people; and from obstacles thrown in the way of the exertion of our natural and constitutional rights,
Good Prince, deliver us.
By your feelings as men; by your interests as members of civil society; by your duty as Christians,
O Rulers, deliver us.
By the deprivation of millions—by the sighs of the widow—by the tears of the orphan—by the groans of the aged in distress—by the wants of all classes in the community, except your own and your dependents,
O Rulers, deliver us.
In this time of tribulation—in this time of want of labour to thousands, and of unrequited labour to tens of thousands—in this time of sudden death from want of food,
O Rulers, deliver us.
We people do beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers; and that it may please ye to rule and govern us constitutionally in the right way;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to keep yourselves in all sobriety, temperance, and honesty of life—that ye spend not extravagantly the money raised from the production of our labours, nor take for yourselves that which ye need not;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
292 That it may please ye to keep your hearts in fear of oppression, and in love of justice; and that ye may evermore have affiance in our affection, rather than in the bayonets of an hired soldiery;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to be our defenders and keepers, giving us the victory over all our enemies, and redressing the grievances under which we labour;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to lessen the cares of the world unto all Bishops and Church Dignitaries; giving their superabundance to the poor clergy, and no longer taxing us for their support;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to place within the bounds of economy the expenditure of all the Royal Family;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to deprive the Lords of the Council, and all the nobility, of all money paid out of the taxes which they have not earned;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to direct all Magistrates to give up their advanced salaries, which the times no longer render necessary, and to content themselves with their former stipends;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to bless all the people with equal representation, and to keep them safe from borough-mongering factions;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye so to govern us, that unity, peace, and concord, may prevail throughout the nation, and the voice of tumult and dissatisfaction be no more heard in our streets;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to give unto all people all their rights as citizens, whatever may be the mode in which their consciences may impel them to worship their Creator, and whatever the creed to which their judgments assent;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to bring into the way of truth those apostates who have erred therefrom, and have deceived us;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to strengthen all such as do stand up for the legal and constitutional rights of the people; to comfort and help the weak-hearted, who want courage in our behalf; to raise up such as do fall; and, finally, to beat down corruption under our feet;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye not to tax “until the brow of labour sweats in vain;” but to succour and comfort all that are in necessity and tribulation;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to shew pity to all who are prisoners and captives for the people’s sake, or through the oppressive expenses of the laws;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to appropriate the 200,000l. annually paid to Members of Parliament, contrary to an ancient law, as a provision for fatherless children and widows, and all that are desolate and oppressed;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to have mercy upon us all;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to turn the hearts of our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, by withdrawing their pensions and emoluments, that they may no longer call us a “rabble,” the “swinish multitude,” or “ragamuffins,” but may once more style us “the real strength of the nation,”—“the body, without which a head is useless;”
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to give and preserve to our use the kindly fruits of the earth, untaxed by men in black, whom those who wish for their instruction ought alone to support;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to abolish and destroy all sinecure places, and worthless pensions; to utterly purge and root out all wrong-doers; to thoroughly correct the present misrepresentation of the people, by an effectual Reform in Parliament; and otherwise to do, or cause to be done, such further and other acts and deeds, as shall or may conduce to the true interest and benefit of the whole commonwealth;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to lead and strengthen GEORGE Prince of Wales, our present REGENT, in the true fear and knowledge of the principles whereon the people of this commonwealth placed their crown on the head of his ancestors, and continue it towards him; and that it may please ye, as much as in ye lie, to keep and defend him from battle and murder, and sudden death, and from fornication, and all other deadly sin;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to put on short allowance all Bishops, Priests, and Deacons, that their fleshly appetites being reduced, their spiritual-mindedness may be thereby increased and so that both by their preaching and living they may set it forth, and show it accordingly;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
That it may please ye to take to yourselves true repentance, inasmuch as ye have erred from the way of your forefathers; and amend your method of governing according to our free constitution;
We beseech ye to hear us, O Rulers.
Son of George, we beseech thee to hear us.
Son of George, we beseech thee, &c.
O House of Lords, that takest away so many tens of thousands of pounds in pensions,
Have mercy upon us.
O House of Commons, that votest away the money of the whole nation, instead of that of those only who elect you;
Have mercy upon us.
O Prince, hear us.
O Prince, hear us.
George, have mercy upon us.
George, have mercy upon us.
O House of Lords, have mercy upon us.
O House of Lords, have mercy upon us.
O House of Commons, have mercy upon us.
O House of Commons, have mercy upon us.
[Here endeth the Litany.]
¶ THE COLLECT TO BE USED BY HIS MAJESTY’S MINISTERS
Beginneth thus:
Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, &c.
¶ By whom the following may be used in ordinary.
The Grace of our Lord GEORGE the Prince Regent, and the Love of Louis the XVIII., and the fellowship of the Pope, be with us all evermore. Amen.
——:o:——
293 The Sinecurist’s Creed or Belief.
¶ Upon all suitable occasions may be sung or said the following CONFESSION—upstanding and uncovered.
Quicunque vult.
Whosoever will be a Sinecurist: before all things it is necessary that he hold a place of profit.
Which place except every Sinecurist do receive the salary for, and do no service: without doubt it is no Sinecure.
And a Sinecurist’s duty is this: that he divide with the Ministry and be with the Ministry in a Majority.
Neither confounding the Persons, nor dividing with the Opposition.
For there is One Ministry of Old Bags,[340] another of Derry Down Triangle:[341] and another of the Doctor.[342] But the Ministry of Old Bags, of Derry Down Triangle,[343] and of the Doctor, is all one: the folly equal, the profusion coeternal.
Such as Old Bags is, such is Derry Down Triangle: and such is the Doctor.
Old Bags a Mountebank, Derry Down Triangle a Mountebank: the Doctor a Mountebank.
Old Bags incomprehensible, Derry Down Triangle incomprehensible: the Doctor incomprehensible.
Old Bags a Humbug, Derry Down Triangle a Humbug: and the Doctor a Humbug.
And yet they are not three Humbugs: but one Humbug.
As also they are not three incomprehensibles, nor three Mountebanks: but one Mountebank, and one incomprehensible.
So likewise Old Bags is All-twattle,[344] Derry Down Triangle All-twattle: and the Doctor All-twattle.
And yet they are not three All-twattles: but one All-twattle.
So Old Bags is a Quack, Derry Down Triangle is a Quack: and the Doctor is a Quack.
And yet they are not three Quacks: but one Quack.
So likewise Old Bags is a Fool, Derry Down Triangle is a Fool: and the Doctor is a Fool.
And yet not three Fools: but one Fool.
For like as we are compelled by real verity to acknowledge every Minister by himself to be Quack and Fool;
So are we forbidden by state etiquette to say there be three Quacks, or three Fools.
Derry Down Triangle is made of none: neither born nor begotten.
Old Bags is of himself alone; a Lawyer bred, a Lord created, by the Father begotten.
The Doctor is of Old Bags, and of Derry Down Triangle: neither made, nor created, nor begotten, but proceeding.
So there is one Old Bags, not three Old Bags: one Derry Down Triangle, not three Triangles: one Doctor, not three Doctors.
And in this ministry none is afore or after the other: none is greater or less than another.
But the whole three Ministers are co-Charlatans together, and co-Tricksters.
So that, in all things, as is aforesaid: the Majority with the Ministry, and the Ministry in the Majority, is to be worshipped.
He therefore that will be a Sinecurist, must thus think of the Ministry.
Furthermore it is necessary to his Sinecure’s preservation: that he also believe rightly the mystification of Derry Down Triangle.
For the Sinecurist’s right faith is, that he believe and confess: that Derry Down Triangle, the queue of the Ministry of the great man now no more, is now both Minister and Manager.
Minister, first selling the substance of his own country to this: Manager scattering the substance of this over all the world;
Perfect Knave and perfect Fool: of unsparing despotic views—on overstrained taxation subsisting;
Equal to Old Bags as touching grave Trickery: and inferior to the Doctor as touching his Mummery.
Who although he be Knave and Fool, yet he is not two, but one Minister;
One; not by a conversion of the Charlatan into the Minister; but by shooting a more showy juggler, who wanted, and still wants, to be a Minister.
One altogether; squandering in profusion our substance: by votes of corrupt Majorities.
For as by power of Dupery, and our Money, he makes whom he will his own; so by Intrigue and Cajolery, he is Minister:—
Who to talk for our Salvation, descended to kiss the Nethermost End of Tally-high-ho; and rose again as a giant refreshed;
He ascended into a higher place, he sitteth at the right hand of the Chair; from whence he shall hear how those who being starved—‘by the Visitation of God’—became Dead.
At whose nodding all Sinecurists shall rise again, and again; and with their voices cry Aye! Aye! and the Laureate[345] in token of joy, shall mournfully chaunt the most doleful Lay in his Works.
And they that have said Aye! Aye! shall go into place everlasting; and they that have said No! shall go into everlasting Minorities.
And Coleridge shall have a Jew’s Harp, and a Rabbinical Talmud, and a Roman Missal: and Wordsworth shall have a Psalter, and a Primer, and a Reading Easy; and unto Southey’s pension Sack-but shall be duly added: and with Harp, Sack-but, and Psaltery, they shall make merry, and discover themselves before Derry Down Triangle, and Hum his most gracious Master, whose Kingdom shall have no end.
This is the Sinecurist’s duty, from doing more than which, except he abstain faithfully, he cannot be a Sinecurist.
¶ Glory be to old Bags, and to Derry Down Triangle, and to the Doctor.
As it was in the Beginning, is now, and ever shall be, if such things be, without end. Amen.
[Here endeth the Creed or Belief.]
Hone was then a poor, friendless man, whom the Government meant to crush by fine and imprisonment in case of conviction. But his triumphant acquittal on each of the three trials had effects exactly opposite to those they anticipated. The legality of his publications being fully established, and public curiosity being aroused, large numbers of the tracts were sold; Hone, instead of being ruined, found himself the hero of the day, with public sympathy in his favour, and a rapidly increasing business. The popular 294 Alderman, Robert Waithman, M.P. for London, interested himself in the case, and presided over a public meeting at which the following resolutions were passed:—
At a MEETING of the FRIENDS of the LIBERTY of the PRESS and TRIAL by JURY, held at the City of London Tavern, on Monday, December 29, 1817,
Mr. WAITHMAN in the Chair,
Resolved unanimously,
1. That the Liberty of the Press is one of the dearest rights and proudest distinctions of Englishmen, and is inseparably connected with, and wholly dependent on the purity of the Trial by Jury.
2. That the inestimable importance of the sacred and constitutional right of Trial by Jury has never been more demonstratively proved than by the recent prosecutions and honourable acquittals of Mr. William Hone.
3. That Parodies on Scripture having been written and published by Martin Luther, the Father of the Reformation, by Dignitaries of the Church, and by other eminent and learned personages down to the present time, we are persuaded that the exception taken to the parodies of Mr. Hone by the present Ministers of the Crown was to answer political purposes against the Liberty of the Press.
4. That a hypocritical prostitution of Religion, and a pretended zeal for its defence, when used by corrupt Statesmen as a mask for political persecution, must ever be held by all sincere Christians as the worst profanation of its sacred name.
5. That it is evident, from the manner in which those prosecutions were commenced and conducted, that the real object of Ministers was not to protect Religion, but to crush an apparently defenceless individual who had exposed their political delinquencies, to stifle public discussion, to destroy the Liberty of the Press, and to uphold existing abuse.
6. That the extensive knowledge, the varied talents, the manly intrepidity, the energy of mind, and the unshaken perseverance, which enabled Mr. Willian Hone so dauntlessly to resist the reiterated assaults of Ministerial persecution, entitle him to the gratitude and support of every friend to constitutional freedom.
7. That a subscription be now opened, and that the money which may be subscribed be placed in the hands of a Committee, to be used in such way as shall appear to them best calculated to promote the permanent welfare of Mr. Hone and his family.
8. That the following Gentlemen be of the Committee—Alderman Goodbehere, Alderman Thorp, Robert Waithman, Joseph Hurcombe, William Sturch, Samuel Brooks, William Williams, William Teasdale.
9. That Robert Waithman, Esq., be the Treasurer.
10. That the Thanks of this Meeting are due to Sir Francis Burdett, Bart., for his spontaneous offers of cooperation with the Gentlemen originating the Subscription, in strict conformity with a life of pure patriotism and love of country.
11. That the Thanks of this Meeting are hereby cordially given to Mr. Charles Pearson, for his manly and successful struggle in correcting the corrupt system of packing Juries, which has contributed so essentially toward the present triumph; and especially for the gratuitous advice and assistance given to Mr. Hone throughout the whole of the prosecutions, affording a rare example to his profession of zeal, independance, and disinterestedness.
12. That the Thanks of this Meeting be given to Lord Cochrane, for his zealous endeavours on the present occasion.
ROBERT WAITHMAN, Chairman.
13. That the Thanks of this Meeting be given to Mr. Waithman, for his conduct in the Chair, and for his exertions upon all occasions to support the cause of liberty.
W. STURCH.
This satire was first acted in the year 1600, by the children of Queen Elizabeth’s Chapel, with permission of the master of the revels, the passage above quoted is one of the earliest imitations of the Church of England services, as by Law established.
——:o:——
The following examples are taken from “The Rump; or, an exact Collection of the Choycest Poems and Songs relating to the Late Times. By the most Eminent Wits, from Anno 1639 to Anno 1661.” London, 1662.
295 These poems were all written by the Cavaliers in support of Arbitrary power in Church and State, and against the Commonwealthmen, Puritans, and Dissenters:
In the same collection there are several other imitations of less interest, one commences thus:
Another thus:
And two others, the refrain of one being:
and of the other:
——:o:——
The following is taken from the “Collection of the newest and most ingenious Poems, &c. against Popery,” in quarto, published soon after the Revolution, it refers to the birth of the son of James II., afterwards styled the Pretender.
There was one in the second part of the same Collection beginning—
The Nobleman’s Litany.
O Aristocracy! Government divine!! have mercy upon us miserable place-men.
O Aristocracy, Government divine, &c.
Stars, Garters, and Promotions, proceeding from Aristocracy, and power, have mercy upon us miserable place-men.
Stars, Garters, and Promotions, &c.
Remember not our offences, nor the offences of our forefathers when in office,—neither take from us our places or our pensions. Spare us, Aristocracy—spare the creatures though hast raised, and be not angry with thy servants.
Aristocracy, spare us!
From all Democracy, and new-fangled doctrines,
Aristocracy, deliver us!
From fish-women, mobs, and lamp posts,
Aristocracy, deliver us!
From national assemblies, national guards, and national cockades,
Aristocracy, deliver us!
From people who judge for themselves, and pretend to the rights of man,
Aristocracy, deliver us!
From Tom Paine’s rabble and inflammatory pamphlets,
Aristocracy, deliver us!
From the insertion of paragraphs foreign to thy laws, and the liberty of the Press in general,
Aristocracy, deliver us!
From all revolution meetings, and Ca Ira clubs,
Aristocracy, deliver us!
From all investigations and reforms,
Aristocracy, deliver us!
We place-men do beseech thee to hear us, O Aristocracy, and that it may please thee to govern the Church in thine own way.
Aristocracy, we beseech thee to hear us.
That it may please thee to illuminate the head of our governor, and make it rich in understanding,
Aristocracy, we beseech thee to hear us.
That it may please thee to bless and preserve the governor’s wife, and keep her from all uncharitableness.
Aristocracy, we beseech thee to hear us.
That it may please thee to shower down fat livings on all righteous pastors of the Church, so that they may enjoy every luxury, and by their preaching and living shew it accordingly.
Aristocracy, we beseech thee to hear us.
That it may please thee to preserve for our use, the kindly fruits of the earth, and all the game thereof, so that no other may enjoy them.
Aristocracy, we beseech thee to hear us.
That it may please thee to protect such as are in power, both in Church and State; to raise up them that fall; and finally, to beat down farmers, curates, and shopkeepers, beneath our feet,
Aristocracy, we beseech thee to hear us.
A Dish of Facts and Scraps.
Friends and fellow-countrymen, no matter where you come from, or whether your mugs be black, white, or whitey brown, you are called upon this day to assemble and meet together to show your sympathy with suffering France, and although we ought at all times to love our neighbours as ourselves, yet it becomes us to look at home and take care of number one.
Now the well-known sufferings of the children of France have called forth the indignation of the Republicans of England, and they held meetings with the view of showing their sympathy for them.
And Nappy the Little was enjoying himself in the green fields of Kent, and the Prussian Bully laughed in his sleeve, saying “I will now let them alone, and they will be like unto the Kilkenny cats, they will fight on till there is nothing left but their precious tails.”
But the patriots of St. James’s Hall shouted, “Long live the Republic!” and Georgy (Odger), the man of wax responded, Amen!
Now about the same time the people of England were at loggerheads with the shovel-hatted gentry that infest the upper house of St. Stephen’s, inasmuch as they had rejected measures in spite of the people; and they said, it is not only illegal, but it is naughty for a man to marry the sister of a wife that is dead, excepting when it is to suit the coronetted gentry, and then it is quite a horse of another colour.
But the people communed together, saying, swallow the bill you must, or we will bring in a bill for a man to marry his grandmother, or off come your hats and silk aprons, and we will pack you away to the salt lake to dwell amongst the Mormons.
And Bruce, of cab flag notoriety, is doing his best to stop a man’s beer, by trying to close the houses for the sale of double stout. But he must mind his eye, or he will put his foot in it, and his licensing dodge will share the same fate as his never-to-be-forgotten cab act.
And the people said, who is he that interfereth with the liberties of the working men. Better for him that he had a millstone around his neck, and took a cold bath in the Serpentine.
And while these things were going on, Gladstone still slumbered, showing that he is like a barber’s block, neither use nor ornament.
Now behold, since the happy event of the wedding of the lucky Scotchman with our charming little lady Louise, the call for royal burgoo has been so great, that Scotch oatmeal has risen 50 per cent.
LET US SAY.
From all red hot babblers, who would cause us to burn our fingers. Common sense defend us!
Friends of peace and order save us!
From the tender mercies of such pious Kings as the Prussian Bully, Minister of war spare us.
Spare us, we implore thee.
And oh, ye silk aproned gentry, play not too much with the rights of Englishmen, or you will be swept from the floor of St. Stephen’s, and be compelled to earn an honest living.
And O most noble Secretary for Home affairs, we beg of you to throw up your present berth and turn teetotal spouter, for which you are more fit, and not try to rob a poor man of his beer by your new licencing dodge.
Spare us our beer, we beseech thee.
And Odger, stop up the mouths of our numerous oppressors with your lapstone of defiance, and spur up their shallow minds with your closing awl of reason, and remain for ever the true brick you always have been.
And O, Billy Gladstone, return to your duty as you promised the Electors of Greenwich and the whole of the working classes, or prepare to be sent to the imbecile ward of the nearest union.
And now may a hot joint and a pot of home brewed grace the tables of all who need it, and all our enemies be vaccinated by Old Nick on both shoulders.
So be it.
April, 1871.
The Book-Lover’s Litany.
From set spoilers and book borrowers, and from such as read in bed,
Kind Fate protect us.
From plate sneaks, portrait flickers, map tearers and from book thieves,
Kind Fate protect us.
From such as read with unwashed hands; from careless sneezers, snuff takers, and rheum voiders; from tobacco-ash droppers, grease slingers, and moth smashers; from leaf pressers and all unclean beasts,
Kind Fate protect us.
From margin slashers, letter-press clippers and page misplacers; from half-title wasters, original-cover losers, and lettering mis-spellers; from gilt daubers and all the tribe of botcher-binders,
Kind Fate protect us.
From heat and damp; from fire and mildew; from bookworms, flies and moths,
Kind Fate protect us.
From careless servants and removal fiends, and from all thoughtless women and children,
Kind Fate protect us.
From book-droppers and book wrenchers; from ink and pencil markers and scribblers; and from such as write their names on title-pages,
Kind Fate protect us.
From selling books by auction; from disposing of them by private sale and from all grave disasters,
Kind Fate protect us.
From truth economizing cataloguers; from two price booksellers; and from all disingenuous dealers,
Kind Fate protect us.
From “Bowdlerized” editions; from expurgators and all putters forth of incomplete editions,
Kind Fate protect us.
298 From all smatterers and pretenders; from all shallow and impertinent store assistants,
Kind Fate protect us.
From “appliance” lunatics, and library faddists; from “fonetic” cranks, and all that have shingles loose,
Kind Fate protect us.
From bibliotaphers and lock and key curmudgeons; and from all glass door bookcases,
Kind Fate protect us.
From wood pulp paper, and all chemical abominations; and from those that manufacture faint ink,
Kind Fate protect us.
From undated books, re-hashed engravings, and gaudy bindings; and from all “jerry” book-binders,
Kind Fate protect us.
From books that have no index, and from index makers in general,
Kind Fate protect us.
From all booksellers who are ignorant and pig-headed, and from them that do not advertise,
Kind Fate protect us.
H. L.
The Bookmart. January, 1887.
“A Sturdy Beggars Litany to the Colossus of the Sun, or the City of London’s intended Petition to the late Prime Minister.” Being an accurate description of his last twenty years administration.
Printed by Hugo de Burgo, for the Company of Flying Stationers. (A Broadside sheet not dated.)
This referred to Horace Walpole, Don Carlos, the Queen of Spain, Vernon’s Sea Victory and Lord Scrope.
In the Protestant Tutor for Youth is “A New Litany” in rudely vigorous triplets. The twentieth runs:—
There is also a parody of the Litany in Political Ballads, edited by W. Walker Wilkins. 2 Vols., 1860, and another, dated 1856, in a pamphlet on Capital Punishment addressed to Sir G. C. Lewis, by Arthur Trevelyan J. P., with “A Litany for the Gallows.” London, 1856.
The following are imitations of what is “commonly called”
THE CREED OF SAINT ATHANASIUS.
The first is taken from an old Collection of poems, called “The Foundling Hospital for Wit”:—
Proper Rules and Instructions, Without which no Person can be an Exciseman.
Quicunque vult.
Whosoever would be an Exciseman, before all things it is necessary that he learns the Art of Arithmetic.
Which Art, unless he wholly understand, he without doubt can be no Exciseman.
Now the Art of Arithmetic is this, we know how to multiply and how to divide. Desunt pauca.
The 1 is a figure, the 2 a figure, and the 3 a figure.
The 1 is a number, the 2 a number, and the 3 a number; and yet there are Desunt plurima.
For like as we are compelled by the Rules of Arithmetic, to acknowledge every figure by itself to have signification and form:
So we are forbidden, by the rules of right reason, to say, that each of them have three significations or three powers.
The 2 is of the 1’s alone, not abstracted, nor depending, but produced.
The 3 is of the 1 and 2, not abstracted, nor depending,, nor produced, but derived. So there is one figure of 1. Desunt nonnulla.
He therefore that will be an Exciseman, must thus understand his figures.
Furthermore, it is necessary to the preservation of his place, that he also believe rightly the authority of his Supervisor.
For his interest is, that he believes and confesses that his Supervisor, the servant of the Commissioners, is master and man: Master of the Exciseman, having power from the Commissioners to inspect his books: and man to the Commissioners, being obliged to return his accounts.
Perfect master and perfect man, of an unconscionable soul and frail flesh subsisting; equal to the Commissioners, as touching that respect which is shown him by the Excisemen, and inferior to the Commissioners as touching their profit and salary.
Who, although he be master and man, is not two, but one Supervisor.
One, not by confusion of place, but by virtue of his authority; for his seal and sign manual perfect his commission; his gauging the vessels, and inspecting the Excisemens’ books, is what makes him Supervisor.
Who travels through thick and thin, and suffers most from heat or cold, to save us from the addition of taxes, or the deficiency in the funds, by corruption or inadvertency.
Who thrice in seven days goes his rounds, and once in six weeks meets the Collectors, who shall come to judge between the Exciseman and Victualler.
At whose coming all Excisemen shall bring in their accounts, and the Victuallers their money.
And they that have done well by prompt payment, shall be well treated.
And those that have done ill, by being tardy in their payment, shall be cast into jail; and the Excisemen whose books are blotted, or accounts unjustifiable, shall be turned out of their places.
These are the rules, which except a man follows, he cannot be an Exciseman.
Honour to the Commissioners, fatigue to the Supervisor, and bribery to the Exciseman.
As it was from the beginning, when taxes were first laid upon Malt, is now, and ever will be till the debts of the nation are paid. Amen.
The Matrimonial Creed.
To be used in all dwelling houses.
Whoever will be married, before all things it is necessary that he hold the conjugal faith, which is this, That there were two rational beings created, both equal, and yet one superior to the other; and the inferior shall bear rule over the superior; which faith, except every one do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall be scolded at everlastingly.
The man is superior to the woman, and the woman is inferior to the man; yet both are equal, and the woman shall govern the man.
The woman is commanded to obey the man, and the man ought to obey the woman.
299 And yet, they are not two obedients, but one obedient.
For there is one dominion nominal of the husband, and another dominion real of the wife.
And yet, there are not two dominions, but one dominion.
For like as we are compelled by the Christian verity to acknowledge that wives must submit themselves to their husbands, and be subject to them in all things;
So are we forbidden by the Conjugal Faith to say, that they should be at all influenced by their wills or pay any regard to their commands.
The man was not created for the woman, but the woman for the man.
Yet the man shall be the slave of the woman, and the woman the tyrant of the man.
So that in all things, as is aforesaid, the subjection of the superior to the inferior is to be believed.
He, therefore, that will be married, must thus think of the woman and the man.
Furthermore, it is necessary to submissive Matrimony, that he also believe rightly the infallibility of the wife.
For the right faith is, that we believe and confess, that the wife is fallible and infallible.
Perfectly fallible, and perfectly infallible; of an erring soul and unerring mind subsisting; fallible as touching her human nature, and infallible as touching her female sex.
Who, although she be fallible and infallible, yet she is not two, but one woman; who submitted to lawful marriage, to acquire unlawful dominion; and promised religiously to obey, that she might rule in injustice and folly.
This is the Conjugal Faith; which except a man believe faithfully, he cannot enter the comfortable state of Matrimony.
From The Wonderful Magazine.
A New Political Creed.
FOR THE YEAR MDCCLXVI.
Quicunque vult.
Whoever will be saved: before all things it is necessary that he should hold the Chatham faith.
Which faith, except every man keep whole and undefiled without doubt he shall sink into oblivion.
And the Chatham faith is this: that we worship one Minister in Trinity, and the Trinity in Unity:
Neither confounding the persons, nor dividing the substance.
For the Privy Seal is a Minister, the Secretary is a Minister, and the Treasurer is a Minister.
Yet there are not three Ministers, but one Minister; for the Privy Seal, the Secretary, and the Treasurer are all one.
Such as the Privy Seal is, such is the Secretary, and such is the Treasurer.
The Privy Seal is self-create, the Secretary is self-create, and the Treasurer is self-create.
The Privy Seal is incomprehensible, the Secretary is incomprehensible, and the Treasurer is incomprehensible.
The Privy Seal is unresponsible, the Secretary is unresponsible, and the Treasurer is unresponsible.
And yet there are not three incomprehensibles, three self-created, or three unresponsibles: but one incomprehensible, one self-create, and one unresponsible.
For like as we are compelled by the Christian verity, to acknowledge every person by himself to be God and Lord;
So are we forbidden by the articles of the Chatham alliance, to say there are three Ministers:
So that in all things, the Unity in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity, are to be worshipped; and he who would be saved, must thus think of the Ministry.
Furthermore it is necessary to elevation, that he also believe rightly of the qualities of our Minister.
For the right faith is, that we believe and confess, that this son of man is something more than man; as total perfection, though of an unreasonable soul, and gouty flesh consisting.
Who suffered for our salvation, descended into opposition, rose again the third time, and ascended into the House of Peers.
He sitteth on the right hand of the ——, from whence he shall come to judge the good and the bad.
And they that have done good, shall go into patent places, and they that have done bad, shall go into everlasting opposition.
This is the Chatham faith; which except a man believe faithfully, he cannot be promoted.
As he was in the beginning, he is now, and ever will be.
Then all the people, standing up, shall say,
O blessed and glorious Trinity, three persons and one Minister, have mercy on us miserable subjects.
This parody was written against Lord Chatham. It was published in The New Foundling Hospital for Wit. 1786.
The following imitation was written by the Rev. Mr. Toplady, a very popular preacher amongst the Calvinists, who died greatly lamented, at a very early age. Mr. Toplady’s object was to ridicule Lord Chesterfield’s Letters, and the morals therein inculcated It was entitled—
“Christianity Reversed, &c.; or Lord Chesterfield’s New Creed.
“I believe, that this world is the object of my hopes and morals; and that the little prettinesses of life will answer all the ends of human existence.
“I believe, that we are to succeed in all things, by the graces of civility and attention; that there is no sin, but against good manners; and that all religion and virtue consist in outward appearance.
“I believe, that all women are children, and all men fools; except a few cunning people, who see through the rest, and make their use of them.
“I believe, that hypocrisy and adultery, are within the lines of morality; that a woman may be honourable when she has lost her honour, and virtuous when she has lost her virtue.
“This, and whatever else is necessary to obtain my own ends, and bring me into repute, I resolve to follow; and to avoid all moral offences, such as scratching my head before company, spitting upon the floor, and omitting to pick up a lady’s fan And in this persuasion I will persevere, without any regard to the resurrection of the body, or the life everlasting. Amen.
“Q. Wilt thou be initiated into these principles?
“A. That is my inclination.
“Q. Wilt thou keep up to the rules of the Chesterfield morality?
“A. I will, Lord Chesterfield being my admonisher. 300
“Then the officiator shall say,
“Name this child.
“A. A Fine Gentleman.
“Then he shall say,
“I introduce thee to the world, the flesh and the devil, that thou mayest triumph over all awkwardness, and grow up in all politeness; that thou mayest be acceptable to the ladies, celebrated for refined breeding, able to speak French and read Italian, invested with some public supernumerary character in a foreign Court, get into Parliament (perhaps into the Privy Council), and that, when thou art dead, the letters written to thy children, may be published, in seven editions, for the instruction of all sober families.
“Ye are to take care that this child, when he is of a proper age, be brought to Court, to be confirmed.”
The Creed of St. Athanasius.
Quicunque Vult.—(Shanghai Version.)
I. Whosoever will gain his cause, before all things it is necessary, that he understand the working of the Supreme Court.
II. Which if a man do not understand, without doubt he shall lose his dollars everlastingly.
III. And the condition of the Supreme Court is this, That there be one Judge, one assistant Judge, and one Law Secretary.
IV. The parties to a suit confound the persons, and the Court divideth the substance.
V. The Judge is incomprehensible, the Assistant Judge is more incomprehensible, and the Law Secretary most incomprehensible.
VI. And yet the decision of the Judge is not the decision of the Assistant Judge, and the decision of the Assistant Judge is not the decision of the Law Secretary.
VII. For like as we are compelled by the law of libel to say, the Judge is incorruptible, the Assistant Judge is incorruptible, and the Law Secretary is incorruptible.
VIII. So are we forbidden by the law of common sense to say, the Judge is infallible, the Assistant Judge is infallible, and the Law Secretary is infallible.
IX. And the doctrine of the Judge is this—That he was appointed for the sins of the people, and the hardness of heart of the Consuls.
X. The doctrine of the Assistant Judge is this: Equal to the Judge as touching the sign manual, but inferior to the Judge as touching beetle hunting.
XI. The doctrine of the Law Secretary is this—That he was neither made, created, nor appointed, but proceeding.
XII. Confusion to the Judge, and to the Assistant Judge, and to the Law Secretary.
XIII. As it was in the Levant, so shall it be in China, and (if they can find them) in Worlds without end.
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The Popular Creed.
An American Socialist has written the following as an expression of the real belief of the middle classes of the present day:—
“I believe in Capital, Father Almighty, maker of weal and woe, and of all things visible and invisible. And in one power, Usury and Increase, the only begotten Son of Capital, begotten of the Father before all dues. Money of money, wealth of wealth, very cash of very cash, begotten, not made, being of one substance with capital, and whereby all things are made; which for us men and for our perdition came forth from the bottomless; and was invented by ‘auri sacra fames,’ and incarnate of the virgin money, and was made gold, stamped, and established also for our fleecing under all governments. It is conjured with and buried and made to rise again, according to the bank books.
“And I believe in ‘auri sacra fames,’ the Lord and Giver of Business, which proceedeth from Capital and Interest, which with the Father and Son together are worshipped and glorified; which spake by the economists. And I believe in one all-gathering and illimitable Thrift. I acknowledge one and every dodge for the fleecing of the poor, and I look for the Kingdom of Iniquity and eternal plunder to come.—Amen.”
——:o:——
The Gladstonian Creed.
Whosoever will be elected, before all things it is necessary that he hold the Gladstonian faith.
Which Faith, except every one do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall perish politically.
And the Gladstonian faith is this, that we worship one Gladstone in Government and Government in Gladstone.
Neither confounding his person nor divining his meaning.
For there is one person in Gladstone, another in his Son, and not another near the post.
And yet not Two Gladstones, but One Gladstone.
One Bill holds the Field, not Another in the Field, so the rest nowhere.
One Gladstone Incomprehensible, One William Incomprehensible, and One Bill Incomprehensible.
And yet there are not Three Bills, but One Bill;
As also there are not Three Premiers, nor Three Incomprehensibles, but One Premier Incomprehensible.
Who begets invisible principle and policy of Himself, the only unimpeachable authority.
For like as we are compelled by the Gladstonian Faith to acknowledge all his policy to be great, good and gracious,
So we are forbidden by the Gladstonian Religion to say there be Queen, Cabinet, Lords or Commons;
And in this faith One is Afore and never after Another; One is Greater never less than another.
So that in all things as aforesaid, Verbosity against Unity—Surrender to Malignity—is to be worshipped.
Furthermore it is necessary for proper Qualification that he also believe rightly the mystification of the Grand Old Man.
For the right faith is that we believe and confess that the People’s William does good for mankind;
That he is perfect Genius and perfect Man and yet a reasonable Soul on Destructive Acts subsisting;
Equal to no one in Love of Office, and inferior to none in Design to retain it.
For as this reasonable Soul is Flesh and Blood, so Flesh and Blood cannot understand this reasonable Soul.
Who will permit any to suffer for his Salvation, and who hopes to rise again with his Bills from the Dead;
And whosoever follows shall enter as a Gladstonian politician, and he that does not may sink into political oblivion.
This is the Gladstonian faith, which except a man believe faithfully he cannot be elected.
June, 1886.
——:o:——
Although The Pious Editor’s Creed in “The Biglow Papers” cannot be styled a parody, it is exquisitely humorous, but much too long to give in full:—
——:o:——
In the works of the Right. Hon. Sir Charles Hanbury Williams there occurs a parody entitled—
The Lessons for the Day, 1742.
The First Lesson.
¶ Here beginneth the First Chapter of the Book of Preferment.
Now it came to pass in the 15th year of the reign of George the King, in the 2nd month, on the 10th day of the month at Even, that a deep sleep came upon me, the visions of the night possessed my spirit, I dreamed, and behold Robert[346] the minister came in unto the King, and besought him, saying:
O King, live for ever! let thy throne be established from generation to generation! but behold now the power which thou gavest unto thy servant is at an end, the Peterborough election is lost, and the enemies of thy servant triumph over him.
Wherefore now I pray thee, if I have found favour in thy sight, suffer thy servant to depart in peace, that my soul may bless thee.
And when he had spoken these words, he resigned unto the King his place as First Lord of the Treasury, his Chancellorship of the Exchequer, and all his other preferments.
* * * * *
This parody concludes with the following:—
Old England’s Te Deum to George the Third.
We complain of Thee, O King, we acknowledge Thee to be an Hanoverian.
All Hungary doth Worship Thee, the Captain everlasting.
To Thee all Placemen cry aloud, the House of Lords and all the Courtiers therein.
To Thee, Carteret and Bath continually do cry,
Warlike, Warlike, Warlike, Captain General of the Armies! Brunswick and Lunenburgh are full of the brightness of our coin.
The venal Company of Peers praise Thee.
The goodly fellowship of Ministers praise Thee.
The noble Army of Hanoverians praise Thee.
The Holy Bench of Bishops throughout the land doth acknowledge Thee.
Thine honourable, true, and steady Son.
Also my Lady Yarmouth the comforter.
Thou art a glorious Prince, O King!
Thou art the ever charming Son of the Father.
When thou tookest upon Thee to deliver this nation, Thou didst not abhor thy Father’s example.
When Thou hadst overcome the sharpness of want, Thou didst open the smiles of thy favour to all believers in a court.
Thou sittest at the right hand of —— in the Treasury of the Father.
We believe that Thou shalt come to be our scourge.
We therefore pray Thee provide for thy servants, whom Thou hast fed with thy renown. Make them to be numbered with thy slaves in livery everlasting.
O King, spare thy people of England.
And now squeeze thy people of Hanover.
Govern them as Thou hast governed us,
And confine them to their turnips for ever.
Day by day we sing ballads unto Thee.
And we bawl against Hanover, ever world without end.
Vouchsafe, O King, to keep us this year without thy Hanoverians.
The Lord have mercy upon us; the Lord have mercy upon us.
31 O King, let thy Mercy lighten our Taxes, as our Credit should be in Thee.
O King in Thee have I trusted, let me not be confounded.
Valour be to the Father, common sense to the Son, and a young bed-fellow to the Countess of Yarmouth; as was not in the beginning, is not now, nor is ever like to be, world without end. Amen!
There is another parody of the Te Deum in Robert Southey’s Omniana (vol. 2. p. 41.) entitled Te Franciscum, and dated 1733, but it is of little interest.
Catechism for the Meridian of the Exchange.
Q. What is your name?
A. A Freeman.
Q. Who gave you this name?
A. The Candidates for a seat in the House of Commons.
Q. Wherein does your Freedom consist?
A. First. In having the liberty to eat, drink, and revel in debauchery, from the commencement of the canvass to the close of the poll, let that time be what it may;—and all that on free cost.
Secondly. In giving my vote to that Candidate or his friends, whom I shall conceive the most likely to serve my own private interest, without any regard to the comparative merits of the Candidates, or the welfare and prosperity of this Town and Kingdom.
Q. What sort of morality do you call this?
A. This I call political morality; and it is this morality which has the greatest influence on the conduct of very many electors.
Q. Are there no electors who vote on other principles?
A. Yes: there are some who think, judge, and compare before they promise; and then give their suffrage, so that their hearts may not reproach them, for a violation of those principles of morality, which ought to regulate the conduct of every man, especially if he professes to be a Christian.
Q. Is this promise binding, which has been obtained on a false statement of facts?
A. All Casuists say No; especially if it be to the injury of a third person.
N.B. Freemen, it must be well-known to you, that Henry Brougham and Thomas Creevey are the Friends of Trade, Peace and Plenty, and have neither Place nor Pension; when it is equally notorious that George Canning and Isaac Gascoyne are the Friends of War, Taxes, and Famine, and are now living on the Spoils of their Country.
From An impartial Collection of Addresses, Songs, Squibs, &c., published during the Liverpool Election, October 1812.
The Candidates were the Rt. Hon. George Canning; Lt.-Gen. Isaac Gascoigne; Henry Brougham; Thomas Creevey; and Gen. B. Tarlton. (Messrs. G. Canning and Gascoigne, both Tories, were elected.)
The Income-Tax Catechism.
Q. Why is the Income and Property-Tax so called?
A. Because it is a tax on the mere Income of some people, and on the whole Property of others.
Q. Of whom is it a tax on the Income only?
A. It is a tax on the Income only, and on no more than the Income, of those whose Income consists of rent, or of the interest of Property.
Q. Of whom is it a tax on the entire Property?
A. It is a tax on the entire Property of those whose Income consists of earnings, and who have no other Property than their Income.
Q. So it is called an Income-Tax when it is a tax on Income arising from Property, and a Property-Tax when it is a tax on Income not arising from Property?
A. Yes.
Q. If persons whose Income consists merely of earnings were taxed in the same proportion as those whose Incomes consist of dividends or of rents, how much Income-Tax would they have to pay?
A. At the utmost, sixteen pence in the pound on the interest of their yearly incomes at 3 per cent. For instance, a man earning £500 a year would have to pay 20s.
Q. Would this be an equitable adjustment of the Income-Tax?
A. Not quite; because earnings are mostly precarious.
Q. How does the Income-Tax affect persons of precarious income?
A. It deprives them of the money which they ought to save as a provision against a season of loss of employment, or against old age.
Q. Where do those people go who are incapacitated by the Income-Tax from making a provision for loss of employment, or for old age?
A. To the workhouse.
Punch, December 13, 1856.
A Rabble Catechism for M.P.’S.
Respectfully Dedicated to Major Beresford, M.P., for North Essex; Ex-Tory Whipper-in, Secretary-at-War in 1852; with every possible etcetera.
Q. What is a rabble?
A. Rabble is a congregation of creatures that hiss and hoot.
Q. Biped or quadruped?
A. I believe, biped.
Q. Of what are they ordinarily composed?
A. Mud, tempered with ditch-water. Sometimes they are made of road-scrapings; they are sometimes found of pure clay.
Q. What is your duty towards the rabble?
A. My duty towards the rabble is, from the very bottom of my heart (wherever that may be) to loathe, detest, hate, and abhor them.
Q. As everything has its place in the condition of the world, what—in your opinion—in the scale of creation, is the proper place of the rabble? Take, for instance, an individual. One of the rabble?
A. I believe that one of the rabble is a—yes—a sort of link between an ape and a contented labourer. I have, I think, read of apes that chop sticks and draw water, and walk upright on two legs; I have no doubt that moral anatomy would establish the analogy. No doubt of it. Yes; one of the rabble is a link between an ape and a labourer—a contented labourer.
Q. Has the rabble any voice?
A. Certainly not: it is the want of voice that is the rabble’s distinguishing want.
Q. But supposing that the rabble could, by Act of Parliament, for instance, obtain voices—they would then be rabble no longer?
A. Certainly not.
Q. The rabble, having no articulate voices, you conceive it to be your bounden duty to hate, and, from the bottom of your heart despise them?
A. I do.
31 Q. But, having obtained voices, the rabble would then be to you—
A. Every one of them a man and a brother; that is—at Election times. Yes; from the bottom of my heart, a man and a brother.
A Rabble Catechism for the Rabble.
Q. What are you?
A. One o’ the rabble
Q. What makes you of the rabble?
A. Nothin’ makes me; got nothin’; that’s why nothin’ does it.
Q. What is your place in the world?
A. Got no place by rights; only what the gentlefolks is so kind—heaven bless ’em—is so kind to grant me.
Q. What are your duties in life?
A. My duties is to pay duties on ’bacca, and on whatsomever there may be put upon—tea and beer and so forth—and ax no questions.
Q. Have you any voice at elections?
A. Yes: when I hollars.
Q. But you have no vote?
A. In course not. ’Cause I’m one o’ the rabble.
Q. And as one of the rabble—what are you to expect from the gentlemen who propose themselves—for the benefit of the country—to be Members of Parliament?
A. I am to expect, and not a bit to mind it, to be despised from the bottom of their hearts.
Q. Were you created for that?
A. I was, as badgers were made to be baited, foxes to be hunted, and hedgehogs to be beaten to bits—so was the rabble made to be despised by Members of Parliament, ’specially when majors, from the very bottom of their hearts.
Punch.
Le Catechisme des Anglais.
Pour l’expulsion des Français sous Napoleon I.
D. Dis moi, mon enfant, qui es tu?
R. Anglais; par la grace de Dieu.
D. Quel est l’ennémi de notre félicité?
R. L’Empereur des Français.
D. Combien a-t-il de natures?
R. Deux: la nature humaine, et la diabolique.
D. Combien y a d’Empereurs des Français?
R. Un véritable, en trois personnes trompeuses.
D. Comment les nomme t-on?
R. Napoléon, Murat, Manuel Godoi.
D. Lequel des trois est le plus méchant?
R. Ils le sont tous trois également.
D. De qui dérive Napoléon?
R. Du péché.
D. Murat?
R. De Napoléon; et Godoi de la formation des deux autres.
D. Quel est l’esprit du prémier?
R. L’orgueil et le despotisme.
D. Du sécond.
R. La rapine, et la cruauté.
D. Du troisième?
R. La cupidité, la trahison, et l’ignorance, &c. &c.
* * * * *
This fragment of a catechism appeared in Notes and Queries June 27, 1868, with a request for information as to its origin, to which no reply seems to have been made.
A Catechism for Londoners.
Q. What is a Premium?
A. Premium is a Latin word meaning “prize” or “reward.” In London this reward is given by Landlords to themselves out of the money of incoming Tenants.
Q. Is a Premium a prize for good conduct?
A. Exclusively so. The good conduct consists in allowing Tenants to live in London at all.
Q. Is the moment when a house is taken the only occasion on which a Premium is exacted?
A. Not at all. When a lease expires, Landlords, especially Ducal ones (see Mr. Platt’s evidence before the Parliamentary Committee), often refuse to renew without a heavy Premium.
Q. Is it a valid plea to say that this Premium is a repayment to the Landlord for improvements which he has kindly made in the house?
A. No; because the Landlord hardly ever makes any improvements.
Q. Then, at any rate, Tenants of London houses can always have the advantage of a lease, if they like to pay a Premium for it?
A. Such is not the case. Some Ducal Landlords now exact Premiums, and at the same time refuse to grant leases.
Q. Then the Tenant becomes a mere Tenant-at-will?
A. Unless he prefers to become a Tenant-at-won’t, and leaves the house in disgust.
Q. Why do not all Tenants adopt the latter system?
A. Because to leave his place of business may mean to a tradesman the sacrifice of his “connection,” a fact of which Landlords take full advantage.
Q. If a Tenant asked his Landlord for compensation for improvements executed by himself, what would the latter do?
A. Improve him off the estate, probably.
Q. When a London Landlord destroys at one blow the value of a Tradesman’s good-will, by refusing him a lease, and drives him to emigrate by exacting a “starvation-rent,” what does he call the result to the Tenant?
A. A happy re-lease.
Q. What is the theoretical foundation on which Ducal Landlords build their claim to rack-rent all occupiers who “hold of” them?
A. That it is entirely owing to their own careful attention and unremitting exertions that the soil of London is now of any value whatever.
Q. And of what material is that foundation largely composed?
A. Portland Cement.
Q. What would the Ducal monopoly of land and houses in the best situations in London be called in Chicago?
A. A “corner in rents.”
Q. And what would be an appropriate name for the victim of this monopoly?
A. A Ground-Tenant.
Q. Although the Ducal system of “improving estates,” by turning out old Tenants and raising the rent to the utmost possible limit, may press hardly on individuals, do not these territorial magnates display a splendid example of public-spirited generosity and self-denying civic virtue which compensates for private loss?
A. Scarcely.
Punch. May 7, 1887.
A Catechism of the Peerage.
Question. What is a Peer.
Answer. The eldest son of his father.
31 Q. Who gave him that Title?
A. No one; it came to him through the accident of birth.
Q. Has he no other claim or qualification?
A. None.
Q. What is the nature of his Title?
A. Hereditary.
Q. Are there no other kind of Peers?
A. Yes; there are a few Life Peers.
Q. What are they?
A. Commoners who are made Peers for the rest of their lives, without their titles being transmitted to their heirs.
Q. Who creates Peers?
A. The Crown.
Q. What are men made Peers for?
A. For winning battles, for serving their party in the House of Commons, for being old and no longer of any use to it, for being troublesome to their colleagues, for being behind the times, and for being political nuisances that cannot be got rid of in any other way.
Q. Are Poets ever made Peers?
A. Yes. Lord Tennyson.
Q. Why was he made a Peer?
A. For writing adulatory verses, as Poet Laureate, on royal births, marriages and deaths.
Q. Besides Hereditary Peers and Life Peers, are there any other special kinds?
A. Yes. Temporal Peers and Spiritual Peers?.
Q. What are Spiritual Peers?
A. Bishops of the Church of England.
Q. What are the Privileges of a Peer?
A. To be called “My Lord,” to sit in Parliament without asking his fellow-citizens, to legislate without consulting them, to appoint clergymen to livings in the Church, and his poor relations to well-paid offices in the public service.
Q. Whom does the House of Commons represent?
A. The People of England.
Q. Whom do the Peers represent?
A. Themselves.
Q. How many are they?
A. Five hundred and twelve.
Q. How many does the People’s House represent?
A. Thirty-four millions.
Q. Are the members of the House of Lords all English.
A. No; the Scotch Peers created before 1707 elect sixteen of their number to sit in each Parliament, and the Irish Peers created before 1801 elect twenty-eight of their number to sit for life.
Q. How many Peers are Conservatives, and how many are Liberals?
A. There are 285 Conservatives and 218 Liberals, the remaining few being uncertain.
Q. Do they vote on all questions in proportion to these numbers?
A. No; they generally show an overwhelming majority against Liberal measures, especially in relation to the Landed Interest.
Q. Can they prevent the People’s House from passing any laws it may deem necessary?
A. Yes.
Q. Have they often done so?
A. Yes, always, until they were beaten.
Q. Are not the Bishops more friendly to measures passed by the People’s House for the good of the nation?
A. No; they have always opposed such measures even more obstinately than the Temporal Peers.
Q. How many clergymen are appointed to their livings by Peers?
A. Nearly five thousand.
Q. Are the Peers rich or poor?
A. Rich.
Q. What does their wealth spring from?
A. The land.
Q. Do they cultivate it?
A. No, they own it, and the cultivators pay them rent.
Q. How much land do they own?
A. 16,411,986 acres.
Q. How much land is there in Great Britain and Ireland?
A. 72,119,961 acres, exclusive of waste lands and commons.
Q. What is the yearly income of the richest Peer?
A. Four hundred thousand pounds.
Q. How much is that per day?
A. Ten hundred and ninety-five pounds.
Q. What is the highest daily wage of a farm labourer?
A. Half-a-crown.
Q. How much public money do the Peers draw from offices and pensions?
A. £598,056.
Q. Have the Peers any other power or influence than that already mentioned?
A. Yes, they have nearly three hundred relations, by birth or marriage, in the House of Commons.
Q. Have the Peers any other privileges?
A. Yes, the clergy pray for them every Sunday that they may be endued with grace, wisdom, and understanding.
Q. Is the prayer answered?
A. No.
Q. What are the duties of a Peer?
A. To spend his money, and to sit in the House of Lords when he feels disposed.
Q. Is he often so disposed?
A. No; the average attendance of Peers in the House of Lords is about twenty.
Q. Have the Peers no other duties?
A. Yes, they have to provide the chief officers of the Royal Household, as only Peers and Peeresses can perform such exalted functions.
Q. Do they fill those offices gratuitously?
A. No, they are handsomely paid, some of them receiving as much as £2,000 a year.
Q. Have they any other duty?
A. No, that is the whole duty of a Peer.
Issued by The People’s League for the Abolition of the Hereditary Chamber.
The Drunkard’s Catechism.
Question.—What is your name?
Answer.—Drunken Sot.
Q.—Who gave you that name?
A.—As drink is my idol, landlords and their wives get all my money; they gave me that name in my drunken sprees wherein I was made a member of strife, a child of want, and an inheritor of a bundle of rags.
Q.—What did your landlords and landladies promise for you.
A.—They did promise and vow three things in my name, first, that I should renounce the comfort of my own fireside; secondly, starve my wive and hunger my children; thirdly, walk in rags and tatters, with my shoe soles going flip flap all the days of my life.
Q.—Rehearse the articles of thy belief.
A.—I believe in the existence of one Mr. Alcohol, the great head and chief of all manner of vice, the source of nine-tenths of all diseases! and I not only believe, but am sure that when my money is gone and spent, the landlord will stop the tap and turn me out.
31 Q.—How many commandments have ye sots to keep?
A.—Ten.
Q.—Which be they?
A.—The same which the landlord and landlady spake in the bar, saying, We are thy master and thy mistress who brought thee out of the paths of virtue, placed thee in the ways of vice, and set thy feet on the road which leadeth to New South Wales.
I.—Thou shalt use no other house but mine.
II.—Thou shalt not make to thyself any substitute for intoxicating drinks, such as tea, coffee, ginger-pop and lemonade; for I am a jealous man, wearing the coat that should be on thy back, eating thy children’s bread, and pocketing the money which should make thee and thy wife happy all the days of thy life.
III.—Thou shalt not use my house in vain.
IV.—Remember that thou eat but one meal on the Sabbath day. Six days shalt thou drink and spend all thy money, but the seventh day is the Sabbath, wherein I wash my floor, mend my fires and make ready for the company the remaining part of the day.
V.—Thou shalt honor the landlords, the landladies and the gin-shops, with thy presence that thy days may be few and miserable, in the land wherein thou livest.
VI.—Thou shalt commit murder, by starving, hungering and beating thy wife and family.
VII.—Thou shalt commit self-destruction.
VIII.—Thou shalt sell thy wife’s and children’s bread and rob thyself of all thy comforts.
IX.—Thou shalt bear false witness when thou speakest of the horrors, saying, Thou art in good health when labouring under the barrel fever.
X.—Thou shalt covet all thy neighbour is possessed of; thou shalt covet his house, his land, his purse, his health, his wealth, and all that he has got, that thou mayest indulge in drunkenness, help the brewer to buy a new coach, a pair of fine horses, a new dray, and a fine building, that he may live in idleness all his days; likewise to enable the landlord to purchase a new sign to place over his door, with “Licensed to be drunk on the Premises” written thereon.
The foregoing are only a few of the many imitations of the Catechism, others are either too long to quote, or not sufficiently interesting.
There was one published during the Regency, entitled “A Political Catechism, dedicated (without permission) to His most Serene Highness Omar Bashaw, Bey and Governor of the Warlike City and Kingdom of Algiers; the Earl of Liverpool, Lord Castlereagh, and Co.” Coventry: J. Turner. Price Twopence. It was also published in London, by R. Carlile, 1817.
This was written to urge the people to petition the Prince Regent for Parliamentary, and Constitutional Reform.
Another, which was published about three years ago, was styled “The Conservative Catechism, or, the Principles of Organised Hypocrisy Explained.” This was issued, at the low price of one penny, by Abel Heywood & Son, Manchester, and had a large sale among the Radical voters at the time of the last Election.
——:o:——
The following parody occurred in a sermon preached at St. Paul’s Cross during the reign of James I., by Dr. John Boys, Dean of Canterbury:—
“Our Pope, which art in Rome, cursed be thy name; perish may thy kingdom; hindered may thy will be, as it is in heaven, so in earth. Give us this day our cup in the Lord’s Supper; and remit our moneys which we have given for thy indulgencies, as we send them back unto thee; and lead us not into heresy; but free us from misery; for thine is the infernal pitch and sulphur, for ever and ever. Amen.”
This was printed in Jefferson’s Entertaining Literary Curiosities, 1808, and was also referred to by Hone in his trials.
A long article appeared in Notes and Queries, August 8, 1885, devoted to the history of the Lord’s Prayer, with variations, paraphrases, imitations, and translations. It gave two curious versions of the Prayer in very early English.
“Monsieur Grévy, qui êtes à l’Elysée, demeurez et faites que nous demeurions toujours dans les sentiments républicains. Touchez vos loyers en paix. Distribuez de bonnes places à vos serviteurs. Rendez des portefeuilles à ceux qui n’en ont plus, continuez a faire grâce aux condamnés comme ils vous feraient grâce eux mêmes, et délivrez-nous des petits papiers. Au nom du beau-père, du gendre, et de Boulanger. Amen!”
——:o:——
The Wife’s Commandments.
I. | Thou shalt have none other wife but me. |
II. | Thou shalt not take into thy house any beautiful brazen image to bow down to her, nor serve her, for I thy wife am a jealous wife, visiting the sins of the husband unto thee, etc. |
III. | Thou shalt not take the name of thy wife in vain. |
IV. | Remember to keep her respectably. |
V. | Honour thy wife’s Father and Mother. |
VI. | Thou shalt not scold. |
VII. | Thou shalt not find fault with thy dinners. |
VIII. | Thou shalt rock the cradle during my absence, and shalt prepare the tea for my return. |
IX. | Thou shalt not be behind thy neighbours. |
X. | Thou shalt not visit the whisky tavern, thou shalt not covet the tavern keeper’s Rum, nor his Brandy, nor his Gin, nor his Whisky, nor his Wine, nor anything that is behind the bar, nor in front of the bar of the tavern keeper. |
The Husband’s Commandments.
I. | Thou shalt have no other Husband but me. |
II. | Thou shalt not take unto thyself any man wherewith to call him Husband, to bow down to him, nor to worship him, for I am a jealous Husband, visiting, etc. |
III. | Thou shalt not take any other name but that of thine Husband. |
IV. | Remember to keep him respectably. |
V. | Honour thy Husband’s lawful commands. |
VI. | Thou shalt not scold. |
VII. | Thou shalt not be too fond of fine clothes, but be saving in all things. |
VIII. | Thou shalt not gossip with thy Neighbours, but do thy work. |
IX. | Thou shalt not tell thy Neighbours of any of thine Husband’s faults. |
X. | Thou shalt not frequent Theatres, or Music Halls, or Concert Rooms, or any other place of that kind without thine Husband. |
306 Les X. Commandements des Baigneurs.
De nombreux accidents arrivant chaque année il ne nous paraît pas inutile de rappeller à nos chers lecteurs les dix commandements du grand hygiéniste hongrois, Kruger.
I. Après les émotions vives, ne te baigne pas.
II. Après un malaise subit, ne te baigne pas.
III. Après une nuit d’insomnie, après un excès de fatigue, ne te baigne pas.
IV. Après un repas copieux, après de chaudes libations, ne te baigne pas.
V. Lorsque tu te rends au bain, ne cours pas.
VI. Ne te baigne pas dans une eau dont tu ne connais pas la profondeur.
VII. Déshabille-toi lentement, mais, aussitôt déshabillé, entre dans l’eau.
VIII. Jette-toi dans l’eau la tête la première; si tu ne sais pas plonger, immerge-toi un instant.
IX. Ne reste pas longtemps dans l’eau, à moins que tu ne sois d’un tempérament très fort.
X. Après le bain frictionne-toi, habille-toi promptement, et marche.
The X Commandments of the Canting Crew.
Perhaps the most whimsical laws that were ever prescribed to a gang of thieves were those framed by William Holliday, one of the prigging community, who was hanged in 1695:—
I. That none of his company should presume to wear shirts, upon pain of being cashiered.
II. That none should lie in any other places than stables, empty houses, or other bulks.
III. That they should eat nothing but what they begged, and that they should give away all the money they got by cleaning boots among one another, for the good of the fraternity.
IV. That they should neither learn to read nor write, that he may have them the better under command.
V. That they should appear every morning by nine on the parade, to receive necessary orders.
VI. That none should presume to follow the scent but such as he ordered on that party.
VII. That if any one gave them shoes or stockings, he should convert them into money to play.
VIII. That they should steal nothing they could not come at, for fear of bringing a scandal upon the company.
IX. That they should not endeavour to clear themselves of vermin, by killing or catching them.
X. That they should cant better than the Newgate birds, pick pockets without bungling, outlie a Quaker, outswear a lord at a gaming-table, and brazen out all their villanies beyond an Irishman.
These rules have their counterpart amongst French thieves, whose “Commandements” will be found in Professor Barrère’s Argot and Slang.
Ten Commandments to be Observed by all the People of Great Britain.
After the Passing of the Allopathic Trades Union Medical Bill, of 1877,
1st. I am thy Family Doctor, duly appointed by the state. I brought thee into this world of sorrow, and so long as thou livest, to thee, in matters medical, it must be a land of bondage.
2nd. Thou shalt have none other Doctor but me.
3rd. Thou shalt not make for thyself any medicine; nor gather any herbs that grow upon the earth, nor in the waters about the earth; thou shalt not use anything, however simple, in treating disease: for I, thy Doctor, am a very jealous man, and for any infraction of this, thy duty, I will visit thy transgression with pains and penalties; yea, I will incarcerate thee into a prison, and so punish for thy doings, those dependent upon thee. And if thou wilt blindly follow my advice, and pay obedience to me, I will promise thee, when ill, that I will bleed, blister, and salivate thee at my pleasure; and so reward thee with a ruined constitution, to drag out a miserable existence for the remainder of thy days.
4th. Thou shalt not speak lightly of my name, for I am protected by law; and the law will not hold him guiltless that interferes in any way with me.
5th. Remember that thou prayest for my welfare when attending thy church on the sabbath day. Six days shalt thou labour to prostrate thy body and work for my fees; but the seventh day is the sabbath, and on that day thou must do nothing towards restoring or improving thy health, or thy wife’s health, or thy children’s health, or above all, thy neighbour’s health; nor must thou think about it, it is something that does not concern thee, I claim that as my special privilege—state protected. I am all powerful in these matters, and as such must be respected.
6th. Honour thy Doctor more than anyone else, for I claim thee, body and soul, whilst residing in England, the land of thy birth.
7th. Thou shalt not think for thyself.
8th. Thou art an Englishman, and the law hath handed thee over to my tender keeping.
9th. Thou shalt never be a Doctor.
10th. Thou shalt not tell thy neighbour of any remedy that will do him good, for I shall watch thy doings jealously. Thou shalt never covet the position of a medical adviser. If thou seest thy neighbour suffering, or his wife suffering, or any of his children suffering and thou art in possession of any remedy that will do them good, thou shalt not advise, nor use it; for I, thy Doctor, state protected, am always watchful, to visit upon thee pains and penalties for any infraction of these my commandments.
These lines were published in Paris, in 1867, when a new and stringent law considerably curtailed the liberty of the French press. The main idea contained in this epigram is borrowed from Beaumarchais:—
“On me dit que, pendant ma retraite économique, il s’est établi dans Madrid un système de liberté sur la vente des productions, qui s’étend meme à celles de la presse; et que, pourvu que je ne parle en mes écrits ni de l’autorité, ni du culte, ni de la politique, ni de la morale, ni des gens en place, ni des corps en crédit, ni de l’Opéra, ni des autres spectacles, ni de personne qui tienne à quelque chose, je puis tout imprimer librement, sous l’inspection de deux ou trois censeurs.”
Le Mariage de Figaro. Acte. v. Sc. iii.
——:o:——
Contemporary with Mr. William Hone was a printer and publisher, named Richard Carlile, who, in 1817, had a shop at 183, Fleet Street, London.
He dealt largely in similar publications to those sold by Hone, and indeed reprinted the very parodies for publishing which Hone had been tried and acquitted. Like Hone, too, he was prosecuted by the Government of the day, and in October, 1819, was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment and to pay fines of £1,000 and £500 respectively, for publishing Paine’s “Age of Reason” and Palmer’s “Principles of Nature.” As he would not, or could not, pay these heavy fines, he was kept in prison until 1825.
Carlile republished Wat Tyler, a work which had been written by Robert Southey, when an ardent young Republican, but which, when he became Poet Laureate, and a pensioner of the Tory Government, he was very anxious should be forgotten. Southey endeavoured to prohibit the republication, but to no purpose, and over twenty-five thousand copies of the work were sold. Carlile also edited The Republican, The Lion, The Gauntlet, The Christian Warrior, and other publications. He was born at Ashburton in 1790, and died in 1843; his body, after having been dissected at St. Thomas’s Hospital at his own request, was buried in Kensal Green Cemetery.
Even those who agreed with Carlile’s very advanced theories were compelled to admit that he was a most eccentric individual, and his publications are decidedly inferior in literary merit to those issued by Hone. One of these was entitled The Bullet Te Deum with the Canticle of the Stone, 1817, a political parody of “Te Deum Laudamus.” He published another two-penny political pamphlet (ascribed to Professor Porson), called “A New Catechism for the use of the Swinish Multitude. Necessary to be had in all Sties.” This was written partly in answer to Burke’s celebrated essay on the Sublime and the Beautiful. But of all Carlile’s political parodies probably the following was the best. It was entitled—
The Order for the
Administration of the Loaves and Fishes; or,
The Communion of Corruption’s Host;
Diligently corrected and revised.
Commanded to be read at the Treasury the day preceding all Cabinet Dinners.
The Order, &c. &c.
¶ So many as intend to be partakers of the Loaves and Fishes, shall signify their names to the Chief Minister, at least some days before the meeting of Parliament.
¶ And if any one of these be an open hearted and upright character, or have not done any wrong to the people, by word or deed, so that he be not like unto the Host of Corruption; the Minister having knowledge thereof, shall call him, and advertise him, that in anywise he presume not to be a partaker of the Loaves and Fishes, until he hath openly declared himself to have truly repented and amended his former naughty life, that Corruption’s Host may thereby be satisfied, which before were offended; and that he hath recompensed the parties, by declaring himself to be in readiness so to do, as soon as he conveniently may.
¶ The same order shall the Minister use with those betwixt whom he perceiveth malice and hatred to reign; not suffering them to be partakers of the Loaves and Fishes, until he know them to be reconciled. And if one of the parties so at variance be content to forgive, from the bottom of his heart, all that the other hath trespassed against him, and to make amends for that he himself hath offended; and the other party will not be persuaded to a Ministerial unity, but remain still in frowardness and the Opposition: The Minister, in that case, ought to admit the penitent person to a share of the plunder, and not him that is obstinate. Provided that every Minister so repelling any, as is specified in this or the next paragraph of this Rubrick, shall be obliged to give an account of the same to the Cabinet, within fourteen days after, at the farthest. And the Cabinet shall prevent the offending person from receiving either Sinecure, Pension, or Place of Profit.
¶ The Table at the Cabinet dinner having a fair white damask cloth upon it, shall be covered with every luxury 31 the earth produceth, and all Members to be there invited that shall accede to the foregoing rules, at least seven days before the opening of Parliament, there to hear repeated the Regent’s Speech, and Address thereon, and to rehearse the debates that shall be made on the said Speech and Address, also to be well acquainted with the amendment that shall be proposed by Corruption’s best allies, the Whigs. Dinner being over, the Minister at the head of the table shall first repeat the Regent’s speech as followeth:—
We lament that our Father[347] is still secluded, hallowed be thy name, Our kingdom come, our will be done in France and Ireland, as it is in Great Britain. Give us this year, our women and wine, and forgive us our debts, that we may be enabled to satisfy those to whom we are indebted. And lead us not into danger, but deliver us from the disaffected. Amen.
The Address.
High and mighty Prince, unto whom our hearts are open, our desires known, and from whom our secrets are not hid, gratify the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy goodly Places and Pensions, that we may perfectly love thee, and worthily magnify thy name; through the mediation of Castlereagh our Chief. Amen.
¶ Then shall the Minister, turning to the Host, rehearse distinctly, all the Ten Commandments; and the Host, sitting open-mouthed, shall, after every Commandment, ask the Prince mercy for their transgressions thereof for the time past, and a Pension to keep the same for the time to come, as followeth:
Minister. The Prince spake these words, and said; I am the Prince thy Ruler: thou shall seek no other Prince but me.
Host. O Ministers, place a Pension upon us, that will incline our hearts to keep this law.
Minister. Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image of Bonaparte, nor a caricature likeness of any thing belonging to the Court or its Minions. Thou shalt not express pleasure at seeing them in the houses of others; for I the Prince thy Ruler am a jealous Prince, and intend to protract the wretchedness of the Fathers upon the Children, unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me, and to extend sinecure-offices and pensions unto thousands in them that love me, and keep my commandments.
Host. O Ministers, be lavish upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law.
Minister. Thou shalt not expose the name or character of the Prince thy Ruler to contempt, for the Prince will not hold him guiltless, that speaketh disrespectfully of him.
Host. O Ministers procure us a title, to incline our hearts to keep this law.
Minister. Remember that thou attend the division; at all other times thou mayst be absent, and do that thou hast to do, but to be in the division is thy duty to the Prince. In it thou shalt do as the Minister doth, for his majority compensates for his want of ability, and enableth him to create, or destroy; to suspend the laws, or enact new ones; to keep a large Army to stifle the cries of the hungry, to use the bayonet, instead of granting Reform; wherefore the Minister blesseth the majority and sanctifieth it.
Host. O Ministers withhold not our Pensions, but incline our hearts to keep this law.
Minister. Honour the Regent and Lord Castlereagh, that thy seat may be long in the Parliament, which the Boroughmonger hath sold to thee.
Host. O Ministers bestow your gifts upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law.
Minister. Thou shalt not say that a Prince, or a Duke hath committed Murder.
Host. O ye Princes and Dukes be gracious unto us, and incline our hearts to set aside the law.
Minister. Thou shalt not say the Prince committeth adultery.
Host. O Prince be gracious unto us, and incline our hearts to pervert the law.
Minister. Thou shalt not hesitate to procure false witnesses against those whom we fear.
Host. O Ministers be mindful of us, and incline our hearts to keep this law.
Minister. Thou shalt not covet the company of Reformers, nor be found with them, nor consent to any of their ways, nor be with their wives or servants, or any thing that is theirs.
Host. O Minister by the continuance of our Places, our Pensions, and our Sinecures, write all these thy laws in our hearts we beseech thee.
¶ Then shall follow the Collect for the Ministry belonging to the House of Lords.
Let us Pray. Mighty Prince whose kingdom may not be lasting; whose power is finite; Have mercy upon the whole Host; and be so ruled by thy chosen servants, Liverpool, Sidmouth, Eldon, and their associates, that they (knowing whose Ministers they are) may above all things aggrandize themselves and dependents; and that we (duly considering under whose authority we are) may faithfully serve, honour, and humbly obey them, in view of, and hoping for farther benefits, according to thy word and ordinance; through Castlereagh our Chief. Amen.
¶ A Collect for those of the Ministry of the House of Commons.
Mighty and lasting Prince, we are taught by thy conduct that the hearts of Princes are at the disposal of their Ministers, and that thou dost dispose and turn thine as it seemeth best to their goodly wisdom: We humbly beseech thee so to continue thy condescension to Castlereagh, Vansittart, and their associates, that in all their thoughts, words and actions, they may ever seek their own honour and glory, and study to preserve us committed to their charge, in wealth, peace and goodliness: through Castlereagh our Chief. Amen.
The Creed for the use of Corruption’s Host.
I believe in Lord Castlereagh, the supreme director of all our affairs, maker of treaties for all nations, for the benefit of none; and in the excellence of his features, fundamental and unfundamental.
And in one George Canning, of doubtful origin, the tool and puppet of Lord Castlereagh, who, together with Lord Castlereagh, falling out about their share of the public plunder, went into a certain field to fight with swords and pistols, unfortunately without any intent to kill, who came out again without injury, to the great grief of all the People; who went on an embassy to the Court of Portugal, where there was no King, for the sole purpose of recovering the health of his son, at the expence of many thousands of pounds to the People: he rose again to the Cabinet, from whence he judgeth the Reformers; and his impudence shall have no end.
And I believe in the Prince Regent, Lord and Giver of Places, who, together with the Ministers, we should worship and glorify, who speaketh by Proclamations, Commissioners, 31 and Green Bags; I believe in the stability of the funds, I look not for a remission of taxes, no, not till the Resurrection of the Dead. And I look not for a better Government in the world to come. Amen.
Here endeth the Order for the Administration of the
Loaves and Fishes.
(London: R. Carlile, 1817.)
——:o:——
The Chronicles of the Kings of England: Written in the manner of the Ancient Jewish Historians. By Nathan Ben Saddi, a Priest of the Jews. London: Printed for T. Cooper at the Globe in Pater-noster Row. 1741.
This is in two books, and concludes with the reign of George II:
“And George was forty and four years old when he began to reign, and behold the Sceptre continueth in his Hand, the Crown also is on his Head; and he sitteth on the Throne of his Majesty unto this Day.
And now behold these are the Names of the Kings of England, and these are their generations.
George the Second, who was the son of George the First, who was the cousin of Anne, who was the sister-in-law of William the Third, who was the son-in-law of James the Second, who was the brother of Charles the Second, who was the son of Charles the First, who was the son of James the First, who was the cousin of Elizabeth, who was the sister of Mary, who was the sister of Edward the Sixth, who was the son of Henry the Eighth, who was the son of Henry the Seventh, who was the cousin of Richard the Third, who was the uncle of Edward the Fifth, who was the son of Edward the Fourth, who was the cousin of Henry the Sixth, who was the son of Henry the Fifth, who was the son of Henry the Fourth, who was the cousin of Richard the Second, who was the grandson of Edward the Second, who was the son of Edward the First, who was the son of Henry the Third, who was the son of John, who was the brother of Richard the First, who was the son of Henry the Second, who was the cousin of Stephen, who was the cousin of Henry the First, who was the brother of William Rufus, who was the son of William the Conqueror, who was the son of a w——.”
The Chronicle of the Kings of England, from William the Norman to the Death of George III. Written after the manner of the Jewish Historians: with Notes explanatory and illustrative. London: J. Fairburn, 1821.
This is an amplified re-issue of the preceding work, with notes, and repeating the genealogical table so as to include the name of George III. This edition of The Chronicles of the Kings should have a large folding perspective chronology of the Reign of George the Third, which is frequently wanting.
The following is an extract from this work, describing the reigns of Elizabeth and James:
“Now Elizabeth was twenty and five years old when she began to reign, and she reigned over England forty and four years, four months, and seven days, and her mother’s name was Anna Bullen. And she choose unto herself wise and able ministers, and governed her kingdom with power and great glory.
“The sea also was subject unto her, and she reigned on the ocean with a mighty hand.
“Her admirals compassed the world about, and brought her home treasures from the uttermost parts of the earth.
“The glory of England she advanced to its height, and all the princes of the earth sought her love; her love was fixed on the happiness of her people, and would not be divided. The era of learning was also in her reign, and the genius of wit shone bright in the land. Spencer and Shakespeare, Verulam and Sidney, Raleigh and Drake adorned the court, and made her reign immortal. And woe unto you Spaniards, woe unto you, you haughty usurpers of the American seas for at the light’ning of her eyes ye were destroyed, and at the breath of her mouth ye were scattered abroad; she came unto your armada as a whirlwind, and as a tempest of thunder she overwhelmed you in the sea.
“Wisdom and strength were in her right hand, and in her left were glory and wealth.
“She spake, and it was war; she waved her hand, and the nations dwelt in peace.
“Her Ministers were just, and her counsellers were sage; her captains were bold, and her maids of honour ate beefsteaks for their breakfast.
“And Elizabeth slept with her fathers, and she was a virgin. She was buried in the chapel of King Henry VII., and James of Scotland reigned in her stead.
“And Jamie thought himself a bonny King, and a mickle wise mon, howbeit, he was a fool and a pedant.
“But the spirit of flattery went forth in the land, and the great men and the bishops offered incense unto him, saying, O most sacred King! thou art wiser than the children of men; thou speakest by the spirit of God; there has been none equal to thee before thee; neither will any rise after thee like unto thee.
“Thus they abused him daily with lying and fulsome adulation; and the ear of James was tickled therewith, and he was puffed up and thought himself wise; whereupon he began to dispute with the doctors, and to decide controversies, and to write books, and the world was undeceived.
——:o:——
An Election Placard.
In favour of Charles James Fox, Westminster, 1784.
The first Chapter of the Times.
1. And it came to pass that there were great dissensions in the West, amongst the rulers of the Nation.
2. And the counsellors of the back stairs said, Let us take advantage and yoke the people even as oxen, and rule them with a rod of iron.
3. And let us break up the Assembly of Privileges, and get a new one of Prerogatives; and let us hire false prophets to deceive the people. And they did so.
4. Then Judas Iscariot went among the citizens, saying, “Choose me one of your Elders, and I will tax your innocent damsels, and I will take the bread from the helpless, lame and blind.
5. “And with the scrip which will arise, we will eat, drink, and be merry.”
Then he brought forth the roll of sheepskin, and came unto the ginshops, cellars, and bye places, and said, “Sign your names,” and many made their marks.
6. Now it came to pass, that the time being come when the people choose their elders, that they assembled together at the hustings, nigh unto the Place of Cabbages.[348]
7. And Judas[349] lifted up his prerogative phiz, and said “Choose me, choose me.” But the people said, “Satan, avaunt! thou wicked Judas! hast thou not deceived thy best friend? Would’st thou deceive us also? Get thee behind us, thou unclean Spirit!”
8. We will have the man who ever has and will support our cause, and maintain our rights, who stands forth to us, and who will never be guided by Secret Influence!
310 9. And the people shouted, and cried with an exceeding loud voice, saying “Fox is the man!”
10. Then they caused the trumpets to be sounded, as at the feast of the full moon, and sang, “Long live Fox, may our champion live for ever! Amen!”
In Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine for October, 1817, there appeared an article entitled “Translation of an ancient Chaldee Manuscript,” it commenced on page 89, and ended at the foot of page 96. It was written in Biblical phraseology and was divided into four chapters, each of which was subdivided into verses. The parody was made on a certain chapter of Ezekiel, and was introduced by a preface, stating that it was a translation of a Chaldee manuscript preserved in a great library at Paris.
Professor Ferrier, in a Notice appended to Christopher North’s Nodes Ambrosianae, says “this trenchant satire on men and things in the metropolis of Scotland, excited the most indescribable commotion at the time—so much noise, indeed, that never since has it been permitted to make any noise whatever, having been pitilessly suppressed in consequence of threatened legal proceedings.” But some prosecutions were nevertheless commenced, and one was referred to the private decision of a Scotch judge, who, it is said, convicted the Publisher, and fined him two hundred and thirty pounds, for a foul and indecent libel.
The November number, 1817, of Blackwood’s Magazine contained the following:—
Note from the Editor.
“The Editor has learned with regret, that an article in the First Edition of last Number, which was intended merely as a jeu d’esprit, has been construed so as to give offence to individuals justly entitled to respect and regard; he has on that account withdrawn it in the Second Edition, and can only add, that if what has happened could have been anticipated, the article in question certainly never would have appeared.
With the December Number will be given eight pages, to supply the deficiency occasioned by the omission of the article, Translation from an Ancient Chaldee Manuscript.”
It has been recently ascertained that the original conception of this Chaldee M.S. was due to James Hogg, who wrote part of it, the remainder of the production being the work of Christopher North, and Lockhart.
A set of the magazine containing this parody is now rarely to be met with.
Professor Ferrier considers that people of the present day would be greatly amused by what he calls this delicious jeu d’esprit. Perhaps a few Scotchmen intimately acquainted with the Edinburgh literature and society of seventy years ago might be, but to the majority of readers the Chaldee Manuscript would appear dull, tedious, and uninteresting, otherwise it would have been inserted in this chapter.
In the works of Father Prout (Rev. Francis Mahony) the following passage occurs with reference to the Comte de Buffon:—“Having predetermined not to leave Moses a leg to stand on, he sweeps away at one stroke of his pen the foundations of Genesis, and reconstructs this terraqueous planet on a new patent principle. I have been at some pains to acquire a comprehensive notion of his system, and aided by an old Jesuit, I have succeeded in condensing the voluminous dissertation into, a few lines, for the use of those who are dissatisfied with the Mosaic statement, particularly the professors at the school in Gower Street:—”
1. In the beginning was the sun, from which a splinter was shot off by chance, and that fragment was our globe.
2. And the globe had for its nucleus melted glass, with an envelope of hot water.
3. And it begun to twirl round, and became somewhat flattened at the poles.
4. Now, when the water grew cool, insects began to appear, and shell-fish.
5. And from the accumulation of shells, particularly oysters (tom. i. 4to. edit. p. 14), the earth was gradually formed, with ridges of mountains, on the principle of the Monte Testacio at the gate of Rome.
6. But the melted glass kept warm for a long time, and the arctic climate was as hot in those days as the tropics now are: witness a frozen rhinoceros found in Siberia, &c. &c. &c.
——:o:——
THE BIBLE OF THE FUTURE.
The following specimen of what is to be the Bible of the future is published by an American paper:—
Genesis.—Chapter 1.
1. Primarily the Unknowable moved upon cosmos, and evolved protoplasm.
2. And protoplasm was inorganic and undifferentiated, containing all things in potential energy; and a spirit of evolution moved upon the fluid mass.
3. And the Unknowable said, Let atoms attract; and their contact begat light, heat, and electricity.
4. And the Unconditioned differentiated the atoms, each after its kind; and their combinations begat rock, air, and water.
5. And there went out a spirit of evolution from the Unconditioned, and working in protoplasm, by accretion and absorption, produced the organic cell.
6. And cell by nutrition evolved primordial germ, and germ developed protogene, and protegene begat eozoon, and eozoon begat monad, and monad begat animalcule.
7. And animalcule begat ephemera; then began creeping things to multiply on the face of the earth.
8. And earthy atom in vegetable protoplasm begat the molecule, and thence came all grass, and every herb in the earth.
9. And animacule in the water evolved fins, tails, claws, and scales; and in the air wings and beaks; and on the land they sprouted such organs as were necessary as played upon by the environment.
10. And by accretion and absorption came the radiata and mollusca; and mollusca begat articulata, and articulata begat vertebrata.
11. Now these are the generations of the higher vertebrata, in the cosmic period that the Unknowable evoluted the bipedal mammalia.
12. And every man of the earth, while he was yet a monkey, and the horse while he was an hipparian, and the hipparian before he was an oredon.
13. Out of the ascidian came the amphibian, and begat the pentadactyle; and the pentadactyle, by inheritance and selection, produced the hylobate, from which are the simiadæ in all their tribes.
14. And out of the simiadæ the lemur prevailed above his fellows, and produced the platyrhine monkey.
15. And the platyrhine begat the catarrhine, and the catarrhine monkey begat the anthropoid ape, and the ape begat the longimanous orang, and the orang begat the chimpanzee, and the chimpanzee evoluted the what-is-it.
16. And the what-is-it went into the land of Nod, and took him a wife of the longimanus gibbons.
17. And in process of the cosmic period were born 31 unto them and their children the anthropomorphic primordial types.
18. The homunculus, the prognathus, the troglodyte, the autochthon, the terragene—these are the generations of primeval man.
19. And primeval man was naked and not ashamed, but lived in quadrumanous innocence, and struggled mightily to harmonise with the environment.
20. And by inheritance and natural selection did he progress from the stable and homogeneous to the complex and heterogeneous—for the weakest died, and the strongest grew and multiplied.
21. And man grew a thumb for that he had need of it, and developed capacities for prey.
22. For, behold, the swiftest men caught the most animals, and the swiftest animals got away from the most men: wherefore the slow animals were eaten and the slow men starved to death.
23. And as types were differentiated the weaker types continually disappeared.
24. And the earth was filled with violence; for man strove with man, and tribe with tribe, whereby they killed off the weak and foolish, and secured the survival of the fittest.
From The Church Times, February 1875.
Two other poems on the scientific theory of evolution remain to be quoted, although neither can strictly be termed a parody. The first, written by Charles Neaves (afterwards Lord Neaves) appeared originally in Blackwood’s Magazine, it was afterwards reprinted in “Songs and Verses, by an old contributor to Maga.” Edinburgh. W. Blackwood & Sons.
* * * * *
The second, by the late Mr. Mortimer Collins, appeared in “The British Birds, a communication from the Ghost of Aristophanes.” London, 1872. A work which is now very scarce.
An American View of Bicycling.
“And in these days the young man of the city is possessed of a demon, and he taketh it upon him to learn to ride the bicycle. And he goeth unto them that teach the instrument; and he sayeth unto them, Lo, now, teach me this thing, at one half a trade shekel the hour. And they make answer and say unto him, Behold now; here is the machine; and here art thou. Get on it, therefore and ride; for all things are possible to him that hath nerve.
And he taggeth after that machine for the next six weeks; yea, even until both his knees are like unto works of decorative art for colourful picturesqueness; and he frescoeth his entire person in black and blue, and he smasheth the machine variously and expensively; and in the fulness of time he learneth to mount and ride, and becometh an alleged proficient in the art.
And then, being puffed up with vanity, and being made mad with an injudicious ambition, he saith unto himself: Lo, now, I will try this thing upon the road. And he getteth permission to pay the hire of a machine, and to take the same up the avenue which is called fifth, to the northward of the hill which is called the Hill of Nobs; because of the exceedingly great number of nobs which dwell thereabouts.
And being mounted, he passeth out of the gates of the city, and journeyeth towards the suburbs, being at times in the saddle, and at other times for variety’s sake (which 31 is, as was spoken by the prophets, as a spice unto life), upon his head.
And it shall come to pass that he meeteth casual maidens, who shall smile upon him, and make glad his heart within him. And, for that man is foolish and mankind is indiscreet, he shall put on the frills of vanity, and ride in the curves of conceit, and take no heed.
And in the end there shall come that way a school of young maidens, who shall say each one unto the other: Behold him upon the bicycle; and behold the young man upon two wheels. Is he not comely; and is he not fair to see among the young men of Israel? And moreover shall it come to pass that the young man shall be tempted of the evil one, and shall undertake to turn on the outer edge, and to put his legs over the handle, and shall generally be so previous and preliminary that presently the young students of Bellevue Hospital shall cobble him after their own will and fashion.
And when he shall have recovered as much as he ever shall, that young man will give his bycycle unto his bitterest enemy, whom he hateth with a hate unspeakable, saying: Let this be for a peace-offering from me to thee; and let there be no more strife between us.
For is there not peace in the grave; and shall war be waged against them that are utterly smashed up.”
Puck. United States. 1880.
A Publican’s Card.
The Church of England Temperance Chronicle says:—A card has reached us, bearing on one side the inscription—
Harry Hill, Market Hall Vaults,
Shambles, Worcester.
On the reverse the following parody is printed:—
Harry Hill’s
Instructions to his Disciples.
1. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for in my house they shall be gladdened with the best of spirits.
2. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted in my house.
3. Blessed are the meek, for my beer and liquor shall embolden them.
4. Blessed are the weak and weary, for my drink shall strengthen them.
5. Blessed are the mirthful and gay, for theirs is the kingdom of Harry Hill’s.
6. Dost thou hunger? In my house shall thy belly be made glad.
7. Dost thou thirst? Enter into my vineyard.
8. I am the son of my father, and mine are the juices that shall restore them.
9. Thou shalt not steal, for my shekels are my own.
10. Thou shalt honour me, for I am the Father of the Feast.
11. Thou shalt not be rude to my pretty girls, for Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
12. Thou shalt not kiss them, if they say thee nay, for, red lips, like red roses, are sweetest on the bush.
13. Thou shalt not embrace them against their will, for caresses, like good wine, should not go to waist.
14. Thou shalt not bellow in my house like the bull of Bashan, but rather whisper like the sucking dove.
15. Thou shalt not damage my household goods, for it shall cost thee dear.
16. If thou art good, from my bar thou shalt not be debarred.
17. Thou shalt not attempt to pass counterfeit coin upon me, for then will the owner of my counter “fit” thee.
18. My good cheer will not settle on thy stomach if thou dost not settle with me.
A Parody by Mr. Ruskin on Usury.
The author of a book entitled “Usury and the English Bishops” (by R. G. Sillar, with an introduction by Professor Ruskin. A. Southey, 146, Fenchurch-street, London), dedicates it, “without permission,” to the Bishops of Manchester, Peterborough, and Rochester. Mr. Ruskin, in an introduction, endorses in the following language the opinions expressed:—
I rejoice to see my old friend Mr. Sillar gathering finally together the evidence he has so industriously collected on the guilt of Usury, and supporting it by the always impressive language of symbolical art; for indeed I had myself no idea, till I read the connected statement which these pictures illustrate, how steadily the system of money-lending had gained on the nation, and how fatally every hand and foot was now entangled by it.
“I place,” says Mr. Ruskin, “side by side the ancient and modern versions of the seven verses of the New Testament which were the beginning, and are indeed the heads, of all the teachings of Christ:—”
Ancient. | Modern. |
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven. | Blessed are the rich in flesh, for theirs is the kingdom of earth. |
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. | Blessed are they that are merry and laugh the last. |
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. | Blessed are the proud, in that they have inherited the earth. |
Blessed are they which do hunger for righteousness, for they shall be filled. | Blessed are they which hunger for unrighteousness, in that they shall divide its mammon. |
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. | Blessed are the merciless, for they shall obtain money. |
Blessed are the poor in heart, for they shall see God. | Blessed are the foul in heart, for they shall see no God. |
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. | Blessed are the war makers, for they shall be adored by the children of men. |
The Pall Mall Gazette. March, 1885.
The three following examples of Scripture knowledge are said to have been written by Metropolitan School Board pupils in answer to questions put to them by Government Inspectors. “Who was Moses?—He was an Egypsian. He lived in a hark maid of bullrushers, and he kept a golden carf and worshipt braizen snakes and het nothin but qwhales and manner for forty years. He was kort up by the air of his ed while ridin under a bow of a tree and lie was killed by his son Abslon as he was hanging from the bow. His end was peace.”
“What do you know of the patriarch Abraham?—He was the father of Lot and had tew wifes. Wun was called Hismale and tother Haygur. He kep wun at home and he hurried the tother into the dessert where she became a pillow of salt in the daytime and a pillow of fire at nite.”
“Write an account of the good Samaritan.—A certing man went down from jerslam to jerriker and he feld among thawns and the thawns spranged up and choaked him; wareupon he gave tuppins to the hoast and said take care on him and put him on his hone hass. And he passt bye on the hother side.”
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31 In addition to the parodies already quoted, Hone, in his defence, also mentioned the following:—
A Genuine Collection of the several Pieces of Political Intelligence Extraordinary, Epigrams, &c., that have appeared before the Public in Detached Pieces, now carefully selected together in one View by An Impartial Hand. Printed for Thomas Butcher, Newgate Street, London, 1766. This curious and very scarce collection contains several parodies, amongst them A Political Litany, of no great merit, and The Political Creed for 1766, which was given on p. 299.
Book of the Wars of Westminster, from the fall of the Fox at the close of 1783 to 1784, on which William the Conqueror celebrated the Third Grand Lent Festival at the London. An Oriental Prophecy. Printed for Ishmael the son of Elishama. 1783.
The Chronicle of the Kingdom of the Cassiterides, under the reign of the House of Lunen. A Fragment translated from an Ancient Manuscript. London: G. Wilkie, 1783.
This describes the tremendous siege of Gibraltar by the French and Spaniards, and the political questions of the day, in Scriptural phraseology.
The Oriental Chronicles of the Times: being the Translation of a Chinese manuscript; with Notes supposed to have been originally written in the spirit of Prophecy, by Confucius the Sage. Dedicated to her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire. London. J. Debrett, Piccadilly.
This describes, in Biblical language, the triumph of Charles James Fox, in the great contested Election at Westminster in 1784.
The Plague of Westminster, or an order for the visitation of a sick Parliament, 1647—Harleian Miscellany.
Père la Chaise, Parody of the Catechism.
Fair Circassian, by the Rev. Mr. Croxal, a parody of the Canticles.
British Freeholder’s Political Creed.
Humorous Magazine. Te Deum.
The Oracle in 1807. The Lord’s prayer parodied.
Recruiting Bill. “Royal Volunteers, now is the time to obtain honour and glory. Wanted, immediately to serve Jehovah, who will reward them according to their zeal and ability, a vast number of people of all descriptions, who will on joining the Commanding Officer, receive new clothes, proper accoutrements, and everything necessary for their appearance at the New Jerusalem.”
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In The Spirit of the Public Journals for 1809 (Vol. XIII., London, J. Ridgway), there is a scriptural imitation, styled A Tale of other Times. This originally appeared in the “Morning Post.” It was an endeavour to apologise for the conduct of the Duke of York, who had been compelled, by public opinion, to resign the office of Commander-in-Chief, owing to the exposure of a wholesale traffic in army commissions, carried on by his mistress, Mrs. Clarke. The parody represents the Duke as more of a fool than a knave; it has, however, never yet been settled whether folly or knavery preponderated in his disposition. These qualities appear to have been pretty equally balanced, and this parody does not decide the question.
In Vol. 16 of the same collection, for 1812, there is an imitation, called Book of Chronicles, it is political, and devoted to the abuse of Charles James Fox, and his adherents.
The Seven Chapters of the First Book of Things; being a Concise and Impartial account of the Birmingham Riots. By Levi Ben Mordecai. This imitation of biblical phraseology occurs in a little work entitled “Poems, by the late Mr. Stephen Chatterton, of Willenhall.” London, printed for the Author’s Widow. 1795.
It relates entirely to the politics of the day, and commences with a description of the capture of the Bastille, in Paris.
The First Book of Napoleon, the Tyrant of the Earth, written in 5813 A.M., and 1809 A.D., by Eliakim the Scribe. 1809.
The Morning Herald (London), May 4, 1812, contained a scriptural parody ridiculing Lord Grenville.
Chronicles of Coxheath Camp. A satire on General Keppel, who commanded at Coxheath. By Francis Grose F.R.S. This is in scriptural form, and appeared in The Olio, 1792. It was referred to by William Hone, in his trials, but is not worth reprinting.
The Chronicles of Westminster. This scriptural imitation will be found in the well-known quarto collection, The History of the Westminster Election.
The Court of Session Garland. Edited by James Maidment Esq. London, Hamilton, Adams & Co., 1888. This curious collection of Ballads, Parodies and Epigrams, mostly written by members of the Scottish legal profession, contains several pieces written in scriptural style. The longest, entitled, The Book of the Chronicles of the City, relates to a contested election in Edinburgh; another is A Chapter from the Book of Kings, which was found in Mr. Hume’s Collection. Another called Book of Proclamations was written in 1837.
These imitations are long, and of little present interest, except perhaps to a few old residents of Edinburgh.
The Book of Benjamin. Appointed to be read by the Electors of England. London, Charles Watts, 1879. This consists of ten chapters, describing in biblical language, the acts of Benjamin D’Israeli, from a Liberal standpoint.
The Second Book of Benjamin. A record of things past, present, and to come. London, Charles Watts, 1879. A continuation of the above.
The Fall of Benjamin. By Alfred Capel Shaw, author of the two foregoing pamphlets. London, Watts and Co., 1880. This is the last of the trio, and concludes thus:—
“And all the land knew that Benjamin had fallen, and that he was driven forth into the wilderness. And, behold, Gladstone the Liberal ruled in his stead.”
The New Gospel of Peace according to St. Benjamin.—New York, Sinclair Tousey. In two books. No date, but since 1863. This is a most remarkable account of the Great American Civil War, in scriptural language, the names of persons and places being ingeniously spelt so as to give them a Biblical appearance. It is arranged in chapters and verses.
The Awful and Ethical Allegory of Deuteronomy Smith; or, the Life-history of a Medical Student. Anonymous. Edinburgh, George Dryden, 1882. This describes, in biblical style, the adventures of a rather racketty young medical student in Edinburgh.
The Secularists’ Manual of Songs and Ceremonies, Edited by Austin Holyoake. London, Austin & Co. About 1871. This contains a series of services for Freethinkers, suitable for Weddings, Christenings (or naming children) and for Funerals.
The New Book of Kings, by J. Morrison Davidson. Manchester. John Heywood. This is not written, as its name would suggest, in imitation of the Scriptures. It is an exceedingly outspoken history of the inner life and misdeeds of the Kings and Queens of England.
The Freethinker, edited by G. W. Foote, and published weekly at Stonecutter Street, London, contains many 31 imitations of Biblical and Liturgical matters, which are too profane to be quoted, such as the following,
Comic Bible Sketches, reprinted from “The Freethinker,” edited by G. W. Foote. London: Progressive Publishing Company, 28, Stonecutter Street, 1885.
Jonah’s Excursion to Nineveh. By G. W. Foote, with illustrations by Paul Bellevue. London: Progressive Publishing Company, 28, Stonecutter Street. 1885. Price Twopence.
La Bible Amusante pour les Grands et les Petits Enfants. Texte par Léo Taxil, Dessins par Frid’rick. Paris. Librairie Anti-Cléricale, Rue des Ecoles. This was published in weekly parts, at 50 centimes each. The illustrations were very humorous, but exceedingly profane.
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Jocularity in the pulpit has been often reproved as unseemly, yet it is still largely indulged in by a certain class of ministers. Punch in the Pulpit, by Philip Cater (London: W. Freeman, 1863), gives some amusing examples of this curious kind of devotion.
On p. 108 a burlesque sermon founded on the Nursery Rhyme of Old Mother Hubbard was given, a similar production is sold by a printer named Tresize, in Beech Street, Barbican. It is styled A Yankee Sermon, and is founded on the text “For they shall knaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar the lion roareth, and the wang-foodle mourneth for his first born.”
During his trials, Mr. Hone made several references to the following song, as showing that reverend and serious writers could jest about religious topics, without any intention to be profane. It was taken from the Reverend Mark Noble’s continuation of the Rev. Mr. Granger’s Biographical History of England, and showed that it was never apprehended by the most pious men, that a casual association of ludicrous images with matters of the Christian religion tended to weaken the respect due to that faith. Mr. Noble, in his work, quoted this song respecting Dr. Burnett, the author of The Theory of the Earth, and Master of the Charter-House:—
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FRAGMENTS OF HYMNS.
Divine Songs of the Muggletonians, in Grateful Praise to the only True God, the Lord Jesus Christ, 1829.
This is a most extraordinary collection of balderdash to call Divine Songs; sung to such tunes as God save the Queen, Hearts of Oak, De’el take the Wars, etc. The following is from Hymn No. 127, sung to the tune of
A Drug in the Market; being some of the Songs of Zion that are not Wanted, written by Jacobus.
The Salvation Navy.
The Salvation Army was sure not to exist long without an imitator, and we are, therefore, not surprised to hear of a Salvation Navy, under the direction of a person calling himself Admiral Tug. Admiral Tug has learnt the trick from General Booth of treating the most sacred things with blasphemous familiarity, and he has summoned his supporters with the following imitation of the Arethusa sea-song:—
A Strange Paraphrase.
The following lines were found written in the clerk’s book, at a church in Birmingham, some sixty years ago. The said clerk every Sunday afternoon gave out the same hymn:—
The British Lion’s Prey.
In the hymn sung at the christening of Baby Battenberg was the following stanza:—
On returning from the chapel her Majesty, with the Royal Family, received the ladies and gentlemen in the Green Drawing Room, where refreshments were served, and her Majesty gave the health of Prince Leopold of Battenberg.—Court Circular.
The following has been suggested as an additional stanza to the National Anthem:—
Of purely Political parodies the number is so great, that any attempt at printing a complete collection is out of the question. At the most, mention can only be made, and brief extracts given from a few of the best examples. The King’s (or Queen’s) speeches to Parliament, on the opening and closing days, have been the subject of parodies for very many years.
One of the earliest, and certainly the most famous of these was an anonymous pamphlet published in 1778, entitled “Anticipation: Containing the substance of His Majesty’s Most Gracious Speech to both Houses of Parliament on the Opening of the approaching Session, together with a full and authentic account of the Debate which will take place in the House of Commons, on the motion for the Address, and the Amendment, with Notes.” (First published three Days before the Opening of the Session.) London: T. Beckett, 1778.
The address and the Debate occupy 74 pages octavo, and were no doubt highly entertaining at the time, as the characteristics and oddities of the various speakers who were satirised were then familiar, but have long since been forgotten.
The principal topic in the debate was the unfavourable issue of the War with the United States of America.
This clever pamphlet (which ran through several editions) was written by Richard Tickell, who died in 1793.
Coming to more modern times Figaro in London, a satirical paper which flourished in the “thirties,” had numerous parodies of 31 Parliamentary Speeches, making fun of William IV, his wife, and his Ministers. These were generally illustrated by Seymour, who delighted to represent William as a silly old man, with a silly old face, and his wife as a scraggy virago, keeping the King very much under control.
The King’s Speech.
The annual period of humbug is at length come round again, and the time has arrived for the King to put his name to the rubbish which is drawn up for him by his Ministers.
Of course, we are, so far as any public sources of information are concerned, wholly ignorant of the subject of this precious bit of ministerial eloquence that is to close the first Session of our first Reformed Parliament, but our private channels are so numerous, that it is impossible for the Government to prevent the secrets of the Cabinet from coming into the cognizance of Figaro.
The following is a slight sketch of the document alluded to:—
My Lords and Gentlemen,
“I have to thank you for the very able manner in which you have contrived to humbug my people for the last seven months. I hope you will act in the same consistent manner next Session, for the dignity of your Lordship’s house, the protection of the Constitution, and the welfare of Great Britain.
Gentlemen of the House of Commons,
You have my most sincere thanks for the singular tact with which you have contrived to debate every night till a late hour, and have yet managed to do nothing at all but pass the Coercive Bill for Ireland.
By a continuance in the same course, you will, I am sure, contribute to the stability of my Ministry, and to filling the Parliamentary columns of the newspapers.
I cannot help expressing my admiration of the wonderful talent you have displayed in sitting under the name of a Reformed Parliament, and yet acting precisely in the same spirit as all preceding ones.
My Lords and Gentlemen of the House of Commons.
I am very happy to say, that my foreign relations are all as eager as ever to keep up the profession without the practice of liberality; and that Pedro is likely to be as great a scoundrel as his brother Miguel.
I hope, my Lords and Gentlemen, that when you meet next session, you will be as talkative as you have been during that which has just come to a close; and, that you will not think of business till my faithful ministers have a plea for saying it is too late to do any.
As for the supplies, I thank you for them, from the bottom of my heart, for I accept them as a strong mark of your attachment and loyalty.
My good people call for retrenchment, and I trust you will give your attention to the underlings of all offices, as you have done before, for a person who has little is better qualified to do without anything, than one who has been accustomed to a superfluity.
I am convinced your sense of honour will teach you to respect the great receivers of the public pay, while the little ones, being more numerous, will afford a wider display for and more room for the practise of your retrenching abilities.”
Figaro in London. August 31, 1833.
The Queen’s Speech.
Mr. Disraeli’s valet having abstracted from his master’s pocket a rough copy of the Royal Speech, transmitted it to us, we hasten to present the document to our readers.
My Lords and Gentlemen—
“The session now terminated, although not productive of any very striking measures, save that of creating me an Empress, has, nevertheless, proved highly advantageous to the country. My Government has been much occupied with undoing those acts of their predecessors which were considered as essentially beneficial to my subjects. I trust that these efforts will tend, under Providence, to the maintenance of the Tories in office, and to my own and my children’s benefit.
We must all deeply regret that civil war has broken out in the empire of my old and attached ally, the Turk. It appears he has been compelled to bayonet a number of babies, violate numerous maidens, and outrage a multitude of married women. But as my Prime Minister assures me these are the ordinary occurrences of civil warfare, we need trouble ourselves no further on the subject.
My trusty cousin the Duke of Cambridge having, through instituting the late military manœuvres for the mobilization of my army, revealed to the nation his own utter imbecility and that of the department over which he presides, I have thought fit to recognise such distinguished services by bestowing on him the colonelcy of the 17th Lancers, worth £1,300 per annum.
As the march of my third son, the Duke of Connaught, from Liverpool to Edinburgh, is universally recognised as one of the greatest military achievements of the age, and surrounded with danger, the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury will prepare a special form of thanksgiving to Providence for the happy issue of this stupendous exploit.
The navy is conspicuous, as heretofore, for its thorough efficiency. My relative, the Prince of Leiningen, has not yet had an opportunity of distinguishing himself on the Solent, but, doubtless, before the season closes, he will again display that nautical skill for which he has rendered himself so famous. My second son Alfred, has been appointed to the Sultan, which ship has hitherto been quietly at anchor in Besika Bay. Should the opportunity present itself, I feel assured that he will duly qualify himself for the post of Lord High Admiral by running the Sultan ashore,[350] sinking a consort, or some equally meritorious service. My First Lord of the Admiralty has, however, fully maintained the great credit he obtained for his management of the navy, through the destruction of the Vanguard and the Mistletoe, by the recent explosion on board the Thunderer, and the slaughter of forty men; thus, at one and the same time, giving an impetus to the engineering and undertaking trades, and proving, beyond question, the perfect ability of my navy—to destroy itself.
31 The financial condition of the country is, I rejoice to state, in most respects satisfactory. You have managed to increase the national income by imposing two millions of taxation on my subjects, doubtless a very proper proceeding; but, at the same time, I must remind you that mine has not been increased. I am, moreover, gratified in being able to announce that owing to Sir Bartle Frere’s economical management of the grant allowed to my eldest son for the purposes of his religious mission to India, a threepenny-piece out of the sum will be returned to the Treasury. Many distinguished foreigners have come to England of late, and after having been entertained at their own expense, and visited the Mausoleum, doubtless left the country duly impressed with the magnificent hospitality of its Court.
My lords and gentlemen, in dismissing you to the pleasures of grouse shooting, after a laborious session, which, in the course of five months has managed to undo much of the good that it took years to effect, I trust that Providence will further your future efforts in the same praiseworthy direction.”
From Reynolds’ Newspaper. August, 1876.
In 1884, Truth offered a prize for the nearest forecast of the speech to be delivered on the opening of Parliament, and many replies were published, amongst which the following was, perhaps, the most amusing, although not written in accordance with the regulations of the competition:—
[Enter Councillors, thirsting for information as to the future programme of the Powers-that-be.]
Several parodies of King’s and Queen’s speeches will also be found in The Court of Session Garland. London: Hamilton, Adams & Co., 1888. These relate principally to Scotch affairs.
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An answer to the Proclamation calling out the Reserve Forces was
Punch’s Proclamation.
PUNCHIUS, R.
Whereas, by the Reserve (Moral) Force Acts of no particular date, but of general recognition and universal application, it is, amongst other things, provided that, in case of imminent national danger and emergency, the Reserve Forces of Prudence, Patience, Patriotism, Justice, Magnanimity, Wise Forethought, and Rational Self-Restraint, ordinarily latent in the breasts of the sober, sagacious, and, for the most part, silent portion of the community, may authoritatively be called out on active public service.
And whereas the present state of public affairs and public opinion, and the necessity in connection therewith of taking steps for the maintenance of peace, and for the protection of real interests, honour, and fair fame of the Empire, and, especially, of checking the insurgent forces of Pride, Passion, Prejudice, and spurious (if well-intended) Patriotism, now and for some time past deplorably and mischievously rampant, in our opinion, constitute a case of great emergency within the meaning of the said Acts:
Now, therefore, We do, in pursuance of the said Acts and of our earnest endeavour for the furtherance of the Public Weal, hereby direct that forthwith all classes of the Reserve Forces above specified be called out on permanent service, and shall henceforth proceed to and attend in their places (in Parliament or otherwise), and at such time or times as may be needful, to serve as part of Our Army of Moral Militancy until their services are no longer required.
Given at our Court in Fleet-street this tenth day of April, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and seventy-eight, and the thirty seventh of our reign.
Vivat Punchius!
Punch, April 1878.
“ADS.” OF THE FUTURE.
TO BE LET for Public Meetings, Regimental Dinners, Balls, Fancy Fairs, and other purposes for which a large and handsome room is desirable, all that eligible and highly decorated Apartment commonly known as the “Gilded Chamber,” with a quantity of carved Benches, covered with scarlet morocco leather, which could easily be adapted for use as rout seats. Also a commodious Anteroom, suitable for a cloak-room or refreshment buffet, hitherto used as “The Peers’ Robing Room.” For terms, apply to Lord Redesdale, on the premises.
TO SPEAKERS OF LOCAL PARLIAMENTS, COLLECTORS OF HISTORICAL RELICS, ANTIQUARIANS, &c.—To be Sold by Private Contract, “The Woolsack,” occupied up to the date of the Disestablishment of the House of Lords by the Lord Chancellor. This interesting Constitutional object is in excellent repair, and will be sold with a warranty of its genuineness. It is stuffed with the finest white wool, and covered with crimson repp of the best quality, and being positively unique, is well worthy the attention of purchasers.
MR. and MRS. SOLOMON HARTT having been favoured with the patronage of a large number of the most distinguished members of the late House of Lords, beg to inform the public that they have on hand for immediate disposal a large assortment of A1 State Robes, trimmed with ermine, including many quite equal to new. Also a large selection of silver-gilt, electro-plate, and nickel silver Coronets, ducal, early, baronial, &c., &c. Mr. and Mrs. S. H. invite special attention to this unprecedented opportunity for obtaining the above articles at the most moderate figures. Robes altered to fit intending purchasers, without extra charge. N.B.—Several of the Coronets have never been worn in public. An early inspection is solicited, as Mr. and Mrs. S. H. have received an order from the King of Bungoo-Wungoo for a set of uniforms for his newly-formed body-guard.
MESSRS. KNOCKIT and SELLEM beg to announce that their next Tuesday’s Sale will include two Swords of State, seven State Cocked Hats, four ditto Crimson Robes, one Silver Mace, one Black Rod (tipped with silver), one carved Oak Throne, twenty-seven Suits of Official Livery, various, and numerous other miscellaneous articles, formerly the property of the House of Lords, which have been consigned for Unreserved Sale. Catalogues on application.
Funny Folks, August 2, 1884.
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Lord Carnarvon had an interview with Mr. Parnell in Dublin, when they discussed the question of Home Rule for Ireland. The Conservative press denied that the interview had any serious political meaning, or that Lord Carnarvon had any authority to treat with Mr. Parnell, for his parliamentary support.
LIMITED LIABILITY.
A Dialogue.
Scene.—Library in Lord Carnarvon’s house. Lord Carnarvon and Mr. Parnell “discovered.”
Lord C——: Delighted to see you Mr. Parnell. Lucky chance your happening to call on me! Quite an accident, of course?
31 Mr. P——, coldly: Lucky chance my having heard from your friend that your lordship wished to see me. Quite an accident, of course.
Lord C——, gloomily: Quite, quite; (brightening up) Mr. P——, we meet of course only to exchange the most casual and superficial ideas—merely as private gentlemen, and not representing anybody or anything?
Mr. P——: Quite so. Exactly.
Lord C——: But there is one thing that I may say officially and with authority. In my capacity as Viceroy of Ireland, and speaking with the sanction of the whole Cabinet on this particular subject, a subject on which I may say we are absolutely unanimous, I have to state that I do think the weather so far is disappointing and disagreeable.
Mr. P——, solemnly: Lord C——, I have no hesitation in saying, not only on my own behalf, but on that of the whole Irish Parliamentary party, and of the Irish people as well, that we, too, find the weather disappointing and disagreeable.
Lord C——: That’s all right. But now, Mr. P——, coming to unimportant matters, and speaking together as men absolutely free from any manner of responsibility, and, indeed, having no particular motive of any kind but that of whiling away a few minutes in pleasant gossip, do you think it would be a good thing if we—the Conservatives—were to introduce a Home Rule measure for Ireland?
Mr. P——: Lord C——, I am now speaking entirely as a private, and I may say an isolated individual, having no knowledge of the views of any of my colleagues, and, indeed, assuming that they would be rather opposed to me than not in most things, and thus free from all responsibility, I venture to say that I, for myself, should not be displeased if you were to introduce a Home Rule measure for Ireland.
Lord C——: Thanks; then again I should like to ask you, merely to gratify the idlest personal curiosity, and not having consulted or intending ever to consult any human being on the subject, whether you think that if I were to promise—just for the fun of the thing you know—to get such a measure introduced, you could promise—also of course for the mere fun of the thing—to give us your support at the coming elections?
Mr. P——: Well, of course, regarding the whole thing as a mere light-hearted piece of pleasantry, between two men notorious for their vivacity and levity, and neither of whom could be supposed to have any serious purpose of any kind, I may say perhaps that in such a case I could promise, just for the fun of the thing—as you happily put it—I could promise you some support at the coming elections.
Lord C——: Thanks very much. Now coming to serious subjects.—May I ask you Mr. P—— whether you, speaking officially as leader of the Irish people, are prepared to agree in an opinion which I have the authority of the whole Cabinet for expressing, that the present season in London is likely to be short and unsatisfactory?
Mr. P——: On such a question as this I speak with a profound sense of responsibility; but I have no hesitation in saying, as leader of the Irish Parliamentary party, on behalf of that party and of the whole people of Ireland, and likewise on behalf of the Irish Populations of America, Australia, Brazil, and Patagonia, that Ireland’s conviction is that the present season in London will be short and unsatisfactory.
They shake hands solemnly and part.
The Daily News, June 19, 1888.
Political Manifestoes.
Mr. Chamberlain’s Address.
Gentlemen.—The new Parliament is about to be dissolved under circumstances unparalleled in the history of this country. I am alive, and not one of the bosses of the show. At the 1885 election, Mr. Gladstone, extending his usual method, indicated four subjects of primary importance. Need I add that one of these, the one, was myself? Under these circumstances, it does not appear to have entered into the mind of any Liberal candidate that within a few weeks he would be invited to consider a vast revolution in the relations between me and the G. O. M.
The 1885 election was fought on the programme formulated by Mr. Gladstone, subject to my approval, and on collateral issues of purely domestic interest. Now, as I am only capable of understanding domestic and vestry matters, it will be readily understood that I disapprove of any dealing with large and statesmanlike questions beyond my comprehension. What the Liberal party in last November solemnly and seriously declared to be unsafe, the Prime Minister, egged on I do not doubt by that accursed Morley, has now deliberately undertaken. The authority of the Prime Minister has been sufficient to work this startling transformation, and mine, alas! insufficient to prevent it. The Irish Government Bill (i.e., Mr. Gladstone) would repeal the act of union between me and the G.O.M. It would also set up a rival Parliament in Dublin; and—you may believe one who has suffered much from a rival politician in London—this will be most unpleasant.
To desert me for Morley—me, whose only crime in the G.O.M.’s eyes is the peddling and board-of-guardians’ spirit in which I approach all questions—is an act of ingratitude and cowardice unworthy only of the Caucus.
So anxious am I, not particularly to stop Home Rule, but most particularly to teach the G.O.M. a severe lesson for preferring Morley to me, that I say nothing for the moment even against those landlords, my customary mark, who hold their land by exactly the same means and right as I hold my capital. Nor am I, under the circumstances, disinclined to coercion.
No one has recognised more strongly than myself the claims of party and the duty incumbent on all to sacrifice individual preferences to the necessity of united action, when it suits them. But I am so real riled at the way the G.O.M. and Morley have treated me that, in spite of all my ill-temper and mischief-making, I hope to retain the support, though I have lost the confidence, of those whose interests I have loyally endeavoured to serve, as long as they did not conflict with my own, and in whose midst my life as a capitalist has been spent, and my work of screw and caucus-making accomplished.
(Signed) J. Chamberlain.
The other manifestoes were less amusing, they parodied Sir Charles Dilke, Lord Randolph Churchill, and Mr. Gladstone.
The Topical Times, June 26, 1886.
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Colonel Saunderson, M.P., had asserted at a public meeting that, if Parliament should grant Home Rule to Ireland, 50,000 men of Ulster would immediately rise in rebellion against it, and fight to the last ditch. He did not, however, attempt to justify this statement when called upon to do so in the House of Commons.
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For many years past Mr. Gladstone has been the “leading article” in the stock-in-trade of Caricaturists and Parodists. His personal appearance, his collars, his umbrella, his hobby for felling trees, his great learning, his immense vitality, and his mode of speaking, have all furnished topics for satires and lampoons.
It would be impossible to refer to anything like a proportion of these, but the following may be mentioned as typical examples.
The Morning Post (London), September 24, 1884, contained an unreported Midlothian Speech on Free Trade, supposed to have been delivered by Mr. Gladstone, but really written by Mr. Edward Sullivan.
The St. Stephen’s Review (London), October 29, 1887, contained a prospectus, of which the following is a brief abstract:—
THE HAWARDEN ESTATE BLOCK WOOD COMPANY, LIMITED.
Incorporated under the Companies Acts, 1862 to 1883, whereby the liability of the Shareholders is limited to the amount of their Shares.
Capital £100,000, in 100,000 Shares of £1 each.
Payable—5s. per share on Application, 5s. per share on Allotment, and the remainder One Month after Allotment
DIRECTORS.
The Earl of Rosebery, The Durdans, Epsom.
Lord Wolverton, 7, Stratton Street, Piccadilly, W.
Herbert Gladstone, Esq., M.P., Hawarden Castle.
The Rev. H. Drew, The Rectory, Hawarden.
*The Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, Hawarden Castle (Chairman).
* Will join the Board after allotment.
Secretary—H. Drake Digby, Esq., National Liberal Club.
Temporary Offices—23, Albemarle Street, W.
ABRIDGED PROSPECTUS.
During the past twenty years, and indeed ever since it became generally known that Mr. Gladstone was in the habit of wielding an axe, a steady flow of letters has ceaselessly poured into Hawarden Castle from all parts of the world, asking for chips and blocks of wood cut from the timber felled by the right honourable gentleman.
At first these demands were complied with so far as it was possible to do so, but as the Irish Question surged to the front, and Mr. Gladstone’s popularity with the civilised world increased, it became hopeless to deal with the applications, which have accumulated to such an extent that the paper on which the applications are written has been weighed out of curiosity, and is found to weigh 4 tons 17 cwt. 3 qrs. 17 lbs.
Some fortnight or so ago Mr. Gladstone announced through the press that in future, blocks from timber cut down by his hand would only be supplied on receipt of a postal order for three shillings.
He did this in the hope that it would deter his numerous correspondents, instead of which they have increased twenty-fold. Under the circumstances, it occurred to Mr. Gladstone that by the erection of large and commodious saw mills the demand might be dealt with and a lucrative industry started without any very large outlay.
Mr. Gladstone, whose great name is the sole origin of the business, and who is henceforward, called the vendor, can cut down three medium-sized trees per diem. These trees will yield an average of 7,000 blocks, which, sold at 3s., means a daily sale of
£ 1,050 | ||
300 | working days | |
£315,000 | ||
Deduct cost of 900 trees, say £10 | 9,000 | |
£306,000 | ||
Erection of saw mills and 12 months’ labour of 100 men at 25s. per week | 10,000 | |
£296,000 | Profit on first year’s operations. |
It is perfectly obvious that the public demand is so great that the entire estate can be disafforested at an enormous profit, the price of three shillings per cubic foot block being as nearly as possible 30 times the normal value of the timber.
31 As the only drawback to the success of the undertaking is the illness, or, it may be, possible demise of the vendor, his life will be insured as a first preliminary for £100,000, being the entire capital of the company.
It is not anticipated that it will be necessary to call up more than the allotment money, as it is calculated when the premium has been paid on the vendor’s life, and the stipulated price for the goodwill (£25,000) has been handed over to the vendor, there will still remain sufficient in hand to erect the necessary saw mills and machinery.
The following contract has been entered into: An agreement dated the 23rd day of October, 1887, and made between William Ewart Gladstone of the one part, and Archibald Philip Primrose, Earl of Rosebery, on behalf of the company, of the other part.
Copies of the agreement of purchase, valuers’ certificates, and memorandum and articles of association may be inspected at the offices of the company, or of the bankers.
Scarcely a week passes but what Mr. Gladstone appears as the central figure in Judy’s political cartoon; Judy has also published (separately) some burlesque Company prospectuses, one in 1885 was entitled “W. E. Gladstone & Co., Limited,” with a capital of One Million in £10 Shares. The proposed Directorate included the following names: The Rt. Hon. W. E. G. Chairman. Mr. H. Childish. Sir Veneer Half-caste. The Earl Gumboil. The Earl Drowsy. Marquis of Heart-in-Mouth. Joseph Chimneypot, Esq. (of the Birmingham Affidavit Manufacturing Company), and Sir. C. Bilke.
A long list was given of the objects to be achieved by the Company, all of which were represented as being nefarious and unpatriotic, such being the usual and natural assertion of each political party with regard to the actions of the other.
Another publication issued from the Judy office, dated November 1, 1885, and sold for threepence, was a legal looking paper, endorsed The Last Will and Testament of William Ewart Gladstone. This was not a very witty production, the most notable clauses it contains are those in which Mr. Gladstone appoints Joseph Chamberlain and Bottomley Firth as his executors; the bequest to Lord Randolph Churchill “of twelve pence sterling to the end he may therewith buy a rope of hemp and go hang himself;” to the Sublime Porte of “a complete file of Newspapers containing all my speeches on the Bulgarian Atrocities;” and to Sir Charles Dilke “my Law treatise containing chapters on Decrees Nisi.”
There are three Codicils to this will, all in very involved and complicated language, and each one contradictory to the others. This production had a large sale.
——:o:——
In October, 1879, The Examiner published an amusing series of imaginary letters supposed to pass between the leaders of both the great political parties, and their followers. The following three are selected as examples:—
Lord Salisbury to Lord Beaconsfield.
Dieppe, Oct. 10.
My Dear Beaconsfield,—I saw Waddington two days ago. His bewilderment when I frankly told him that we had no Greek policy would have been amusing, had it not led to a long and troublesome remonstrance from him. It appears that he thought we were in earnest at Berlin. Of course I hastened to undeceive him, and to point out that our only object at the Congress was to quiet the people at home, and arrange with the Russians abroad. However, I satisfied him at last by telling him he may do as he pleases in Egypt.
By the way, I shall be speaking in a few days; I suppose you have nothing to suggest. Grant Duff must be smashed, and we must take what credit we can get out of Afghanistan. But as Hartington is still, and Gladstone keeps out of the way, I am afraid I shall have to tilt against egg-shells—for Harcourt is nobody.—Yours ever,
Salisbury.
Have you heard of Derby’s latest move?
Lord Beaconsfield to Lord Salisbury.
Hughenden Manor, Oct. 13.
My Dear Salisbury,—Waddington does not quite know us yet, or he would not have been surprised. If he is satisfied, however, with our Egyptian plans, we will not trouble any longer about him.
Your speech should be of great service. Harcourt may, as you say, be dismissed very shortly—the impulsive imagination of his immature intellect needs little comment from you. Hartington is in a difficulty. The Home Rulers, on one hand, and the Disestablishment section on the other, are too many for him. Can you not hint at the various nature of the forces he leads—aëronauts, somnambulists, monomaniacs, misanthropes, and nomads? As for Gladstone, it seems to me that he might be ferreted out. The perennial perplexities of a pedagogic mind have driven him once more to silence. Before he can present himself in Midlothian, he must decide upon which conviction he will follow. A word to that effect from you might reach him.
As for your audience, we trust to the generous judgment of a judicial race. Leave the policy in that fashion. It will flatter them.—Believe me, ever yours,
Beaconsfield.
Sir Stafford Northcote to Lord Beaconsfield.
Dublin, Oct. 12.
My Dear Lord Beaconsfield,—I trust you will have seen that I implicitly followed your instructions. I have spoken for hours, and said absolutely nothing; received scores of persons, and let them talk, too, without expressing the slightest opinion; and the result is that I am most popular. Their idea seemed to be that I was preparing some scheme for the relief of distress, and as they were pleased with that notion, I was of course careful not to destroy it. On the whole, I have neither compromised the Government nor myself, which is saying something.—Ever yours,
S. Northcote.
This last letter refers to Irish affairs, which have given rise to many political skits; one of the most important of these was a pamphlet, published in 1886, by Reeves and Turner, entitled “Opening and Proceedings of the Irish Parliament. Two Visions.” The author, Mr. G. H. Moore, thus describes the plan of his little work:—“In the following pages you are presented with two forecasts of the proceedings of the proposed Irish Parliament, taken from different standpoints. They are intended to illustrate the conflicting opinions entertained of the future, should Mr. Gladstone’s Irish Bills pass into law.
The exaggerated fears and gloomy mistrust of the opponents of the measures are ludicrously drawn in one picture; and in the other, the serious hopes and the brighter anticipations of the promoters and supporters of the measures are assumed to have been realised.”
Articles based on the same idea, appeared in the Topical Times in July 1886, entitled “The Dublin Parliament. A Forecast,” describing the scenes of joy and enthusiasm in the Irish capital on the first assembling of a National Parliament.
322THE OMNIBUS.
It is just sixty years ago since this convenient vehicle was introduced into our streets by Mr. J. Shillibeer. The first Omnibus ran from the Yorkshire Stingo in the New Road, to the Bank of England, and the fare was one shilling. The speculation succeeded at once, and the omnibus traffic in London has been rapidly increasing ever since. The following parody on Barry Cornwall’s The Sea! The Sea! is taken from Mr. Hindley’s reprint of Egan’s “Life in London.”
The original of this song, with other parodies on it, will be found on p. 204, Vol. 4 of this collection.
——:o:——
On page 106 a splendid parody was given of “The House that Jack Built,” entitled The Domicile Erected by John. A correspondent pointed out that this was written by the late Mr. E. L. Blanchard, and on consulting his famous Drury-Lane Annuals, it was discovered as a preface to the Pantomime for 1861-62, styled “Harlequin and the House that Jack built.” Mr. Blanchard’s poem is not quite so long as the version given in Parodies, some ingenious person having undertaken to add to, and improve upon Mr. Blanchard’s work.
LITERARY FORGERIES AND IMPOSTURES.
Although literary forgeries have undoubtedly some relationship with Parodies, it is of so distant a nature that, even were space available, they could not be dealt with at any length in this Collection. A brief summary of the principal Impostures must therefore suffice, those who wish to learn the details are referred to an interesting little work, entitled Famous Literary Impostures, by H. R. Montgomery. London. E. W. Allen. No date.
(Why do Publishers omit dates?)
Mr. Montgomery’s chapters deal with Thomas Chatterton and the Rowley poems; James Macpherson’s Poems of Ossian; Samuel W. H. Ireland’s Vortigern, and other Shakespearian Forgeries; George Psalmanazar and the Formosa Imposture; and the Bentley and Boyle controversy as to the Epistles of Phalaris.
Of course had Mr. Montgomery chosen to enlarge his work, he might have made some amusing chapters out of William Lander’s attempt to prove Milton a plagiarist and an impostor; of the Squire letters which deceived Thomas Carlyle; the Shapira M.S.S. which deceived some clever Egyptologists and Antiquarians; the Vrain-Lucas letters which deceived M. Michel Chasles, an eminent French Mathematician; the Shelley forgeries which deceived Robert Browning; and the Donnelly cryptogram which has deceived no one having any knowledge of the life and works of Shakespeare.
In Isaac D’Israeli’s Curiosities of Literature there is a short chapter on this topic, principally devoted to instances amongst ancient and foreign writers, with a few remarks about Psalmanazar and William Lander.
There is also some information to be found in a chapter, called “Supposition d’Auteurs,” in Curiosités Littéraires, par Ludovic Lalanne. Paris, Adolphe Delahays, 1857. This also deals principally with the works of foreign literary Impostors. But by far the most important and most reliable work on the subject is that written by the late M. Octave Delepierre, entitled “Supercheries Littéraires, Pastiches, Suppositions d’Auteur, dans les lettres et dans les Arts.” London, N. Trubner & Co. 1872. Only 200 copies of this valuable work were issued, it is consequently very difficult to procure. Most literary frauds have been exposed, and not a few of the forgers have been punished. Chatterton and Shapira committed suicide, and Vrain-Lucas was sent to prison for two years, and fined 500 francs.
A writer in the Daily News (July 17, 1886) observed: “The motives of the Literary Forger seem obscure to plain people. He has nothing to gain by it all, they say; he does not make money, like the forger of a cheque; he can seldom sell his forgery to advantage, as the latest biblical forger, Shapira, of the sham manuscript gospel, discovered. He merely poisons the very wells of history and throws doubt on all original “sources.” People who reason thus forget that every artist takes joy in his art, and that all art is imitation. The art of the forger is to imitate ancient manuscripts and inscriptions. L’Art pour l’art is his motto. He revels in his own cleverness and power of deceiving others. This is his reward. Thus a famous French archæologist, now dead, took in his own father with some sham Greek inscriptions. Thus William Ireland went on writing Shakespearian autographs, and even Shakespearian manuscript plays, chiefly to satisfy the most tricky sense of humour, and delight in the absurdities of learned men. Probably enough Joe Smith began his Mormon Bible with no serious thought of founding a religion, but merely, as other literary forgers used, for the fun of the thing. Sooner or later these things are found out. They amuse the learned, and no great harm is done. But perhaps the jester Rabelais did not see the jest when he was beguiled into publishing, with grave and learned notes, a classical manuscript which was really the work of two of his contemporaries. These clever ghosts must chuckle still over the trick they played the author of “Pantagruel.” A meaner joke was passed on Meursius, whose respectable name is inextricably associated with a peculiarly abominable Latin work, attributed to him by its actual author, who thus gratified a spite of long standing. Literary forgers are the very Pucks of letters, and all honest men will hope they find their deserts in a Hades of their own.”
The approaching completion of the sixth and last volume of Parodies has by no means exhausted the materials which, for five and twenty years past, I have been accumulating. Indeed the subject is inexhaustible, but having given all the best parodies of English and American writers, it only remains now to mention others which were either too long, or too dull, to find a home herein, and to refer briefly to some of the principal Foreign travesties.
Only the true book hunter can appreciate the pleasures I have experienced in the never ending search for parodies and burlesques. The difficulty in obtaining some particular volumes, not to be found in the British Museum Library, which might (and sometimes did) turn up in some out-of-the-way old book shop. The delight with which they were carried home, collated, cleaned, patched and mended, to be finally packed off to Zaehnsdorf who clothes them in all the glory of calf and gilt, artistically, as his name does warrant.
In walking tours in England, in holiday trips on the Continent, and even in the few spare moments stolen to turn aside from the noise and bustle of London city into back streets and dingy alleys; in pawnbrokers, and in secondhand furniture shops, aye, even in rag and waste paper shops, have been gathered up little, dirty, torn odd volumes to add to my store, my beloved Parody Collection. Thus have materials been gathered for such a Collection of Literary trifles and jeux d’esprit as has never yet been published.
London, dear old London! is the paradise of the book hunter, and of the book worm; of the one who buys books, and of the other, who merely reads them. Here all tastes and all purses may be gratified; the rare and costly volumes of the King of Collectors, Bernard Quaritch; the humble “All at 2d. in this Box;” the first editions as collected by Elkin Mathews; or the cheap, but curious volumes to be found in the long book room of honest, kindly John Salkeld in the Clapham Road, whose catalogues (good as they are), but faintly express the wonderful knowledge of books and men he possesses.
Next, after London, come the quiet little book stores of the old Cathedral cities, such as Exeter and Canterbury; here, if theology is a trifle too obtrusive, the dealer will soon gauge your appetite, and provide a fitting meal. Then, I would say Paris, but the Paris of to-day is, in this respect, vastly inferior to Paris under the Empire. Then, a stroll along the quays and boulevards led to good sport, for the game was plentiful, and ridiculously cheap. The element of cheapness remains, but the true literary flavour is wanting. Thousands of books, that are not books, school and prize books, old almanacs, dreary directories, medical reports, and soiled copies of trashy novels. These form the bulk.
“La Parodie, Monsieur? La Parodie n’existe plus. Il y a trente ans qu’elle est morte dans la France,” was the remark made to me lately by a bookseller in the Galérie D’Orléans. It is but too true, the literary sarcasm, and the pleasant malice of the good old fashioned parody seem indeed to be dead in France.
“Ils se moquent de tous, mais ils ne plaisantent pas,” said another dealer speaking of their authors, and so it happens that in my private collection, but a poor hundred or so of volumes are of French parentage, and the titles of some of these are all that is fit to be read, unless by an enthusiastic student of Rabelais.
No mention was made in the prospectus of “Parodies” that Foreign parodies would be included, but a few brief notes as to the principal continental examples may be given, followed by such English works on the subject as have not already been described.
French Parodies and Burlesques.
The very first book of reference to be mentioned under this head is La Parodie, chez les Grecs, chez les Romains, et chez les Modernes. Par Octave Delepierre. Londres: Trubner & Cie, 1870. This contains a great deal of information, but it is far from complete.
In Les Curiosités Littéraires par Ludovic Lalanne (Paris, 1857) is a chapter, entitled Du Genre Burlesque in which there is considerable information on Parody in general, and French parody in particular. The first piece mentioned is La Passion de Notre-Seigneur Jésus Christ, en vers burlesques, published in 1649; then come the works of Sarrasin, and of Assouci, the latter wrote Ovide en belle humeur and the Ravissement de Proserpine.
La Pharsale de Lucain, en vers enjoués, par Brébeuf, Paris 1655.
L’Eschole de Salerne, en vers burlesques, par Martin Leydon, 1656.
Peter Langendik, a Dutch poet, wrote a parody of the fourth book of the Æneid, which he called Enée endimanché; and the Danish poet, the Baron de Holberg, also wrote burlesque translations of parts of Virgil’s great poem.
For details concerning a number of less important French Parodies and Burlesques, see also l’Histoire de la Littérature Comique, and l’Histoire Burlesque, de Flogel.
Les Odes d’Horace en vers Burlesques. Published at Leyden in 1653.
L’Odyssie d’Homère en vers Burlesques. Published at Leyden in 1653.
These small pamphlets were both issued by the same publisher, and are now very rare.
Le Virgile Travesty en vers burlesques, par L’abbé Scarron. This is a burlesque translation of the first seven books and part of the eighth book, of Virgil’s Æneid. He dedicated the first book to the Queen, and subscribed himself thus “Madame, Votre tres humble, tres obeyssant, tres obligé, et tres malade serviteur et sujet.
Scarron, Malade de la Reyne.”
Scarron did not proceed beyond the first half of the eighth book, several other authors published continuations, but of inferior merit, such were those by Moreau de Brasey, Tellier d’Orville, Brussel and others.
La Suite du Virgile Travesty de Scarron. En vers burlesques, par Messire Jaques Moreau, Chevalier Seigneur de Brasey. Amsterdam, 1706.
This contains books 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12 of the Æneid.
Le Virgile dans le Pays Bas, ou le poeme d’Enée travesti en Flamand. Par le Plat du Temple, 3 vols. Bruxelles, 1802.
Virgile en France, ou la nouvelle Enëide, par Le Plat du Temple. First published in two volumes in 1807, and 31 next at Offenbach in 1810, in 4 volumes, with very original notes.
L’Ovide Bouffon, ou les Metamorphoses Travesties, en vers Burlesques. Par L. Richer, Paris. The first edition was published either in 1661 or 1662. The fourth edition was published in 1665, prefaced by an amusing Madrigal written by Scarron.
Young Scarron. By Thomas Mozeen, actor and dramatist, 1752. This was written in imitation of Le Roman Comique of Scarron, to ridicule the lives and manners of stage itinerants, and the strolling players of England.
La Critique du Tartuffe, en un acte et en vers, a burlesque of Molière.
Le Lutrin; Poeme héroi-comique. Par Nicolas Boileau Despréaux.
This famous burlesque poem, which describes a very simple quarrel between two officials of a country church, is in heroic measure:—
Boileau remarks in his Avis au Lecteur:—
“C’est un burlesque nouveau dont je me suis avisé en notre langue. Car au lieu que dans l’autre burlesque Didon et Enée parlaient comme des harengères et des crocheteurs, dans celui-ci une perruquière et un perruquier parlent comme Didon et Enée?.”
La Guerre des Dieux, anciens et modernes, Poems en dix Chants. Par Evariste Parny, Membre de l’Academie Française. Paris. L’an Sept.
This is a very profane work, in which the Gods of the Heathen Mythology are brought into contact with Jesus Christ, Mary his Mother, and the Holy Ghost. It has been reprinted in France and Belgium.
Cartouche, ou le vice puni contained a number of parodies of celebrated authors.
La Messe de Cythère, par “Nobody.” 1801.
Les Eternueurs, poeme-parodi burlesque. Paris, 1758.
Le Petit Neveu de l’Aretin. Parodie burlesque du 4 ieme livre de l’Enéide. Paris, an IX.
L’homme des Bois, parodie de L’homme des Champs, de Delille.
La Pucelle D’Orleans. Poeme, divisé en Vingt et un Chants. Par M. de Voltaire. Paris.
There have been many editions of this licentious poem, some of them fetch very high prices owing to the sumptuous manner in which they were produced.
La Pucelle was translated into English by a lady of title, but owing to the freedom of the translation it was speedily suppressed, and copies of it are very scarce.
La Henriade Travestie, en vers burlesques. En Dix Chants. Par M. de M. (Fougeret de Montbron). Amsterdam, 1762. The first edition was published in 1745. In this the original is parodied almost verse for verse. The author says in his avant-propos:—“J’ose me flatter que Monsieur de Voltaire ne me sçaura point mauvais gré d’avoir mis son Poëme en Vers burlesques. Ce n’est pas faire injure au premier Poëte Français que de le traiter comme on a fait le Prince des Poëtes Latins.” (In allusion to Scarron’s burlesque of Virgil’s Æneid.)
Voltaire’s tragedy Zaire was burlesqued as “Caquire, Parodie de Zaire,” en cinq actes et en vers. Par M. de Vessaire, 1783. This was a coarse but witty production, even the names of the characters being too foul to reprint. Delepierre says it was written by M. de Combles, and that it was reprinted in 1853 in a small volume with an unmentionable title. The original edition is very rare.
Les Parodies du Nouveau Théâtre Italien, ou Recueil des Parodies représentées sur le Théâtre de L’Hôtel de Bourgoyne, par les Comédiens Italiens Odinaires du Roy. Three vols. Paris, 1731. Another, and more complete, collection was published in 1738.
These burlesques are principally based on French tragedies dealing with legends of the Heathen Mythology. The tragedies of Voltaire are especially singled out for imitation, two being upon Zaire, one called Les Enfants trouvés, another Arlequin au Parnasse.
Voltaire’s tragedy Semiramis was burlesqued under the title Zoramis, which was produced at the Théatre de la Foire, much to his annoyance, for whilst he had written a parody of Ossian’s poems, and a burlesque on Jeanne d’Arc, he could not suffer others to burlesque him.
Lettres inédites de Chactas d’Atala, par M. de Chateauterne. Paris. Dentu, 1811. A parody of Chateaubriand’s Atala.
Alala, was also a burlesque of Chateaubriand’s Atala.
Agnes de Chaillot, a parody of Lamotte’s tragedy Ines de Castro. This burlesque gave great offence to Lamotte, who styled it “une bouffonerie où l’on essaie de rendre la vertu ridicule.”
Parodie du Juif Errant, par Ch. Philipon et Louis Huart, avec 300 vignettes par Cham. Brussels, 1845.
This has been translated into English.
Quelgues Fables de la Fontaine recitées par un Anglais. Par F. Guillot. Paris, 1885.
This absurd little work gives ten of la Fontaine’s fables, with versions of the same as supposed to be recited by an Englishman, having a very imperfect French accent.
La Rapinéide ou l’Atelier, poeme burlesco-comico-tragique, par un Ancien Rapin des ateliers Gros et Girodet, Paris, 1870.
Le Récit de Théramene. Parodie par J. Méry. Paris, C. Lévy, 1881.
The author remarks “Les plus belles choses out eu les honneurs de la parodie. C’est le sort de l’humanité littéraire. Virgile le divin a été parodié par Scarron l’invalide. Le Cid de Corneille a été parodié par Boileau. Chateaubriand a été parodié par M. Chateauterne. Le plus grand poëte qui ait existé depuis Homère et Virgile, Victor Hugo a été parodié par tout le monde. Ainsi les parodies n’ont jamais rien prouvé.”
This celebrated passage, from the tragedy Phèdre, commencing
“A peine nous sortions des portes de Trézène,” has been frequently imitated, and Octave Delepierre, in La Parodie cites a very humorous piece written against Caron de Beaumarchais, commencing:—
Dictionnaire des Gens du Monde, a l’usage de la cour et de la ville. Paris, 1818. A satirical and burlesque dictionary.
A number of illustrated burlesque histories have been published in France with the title Tintamarresque, of which a few of the principal may be noted:—
Le Trocadéroscope. Revue Tintamarresque de l’Exposition Universelle. Paris. 1878. Par Touchatout, avec dessins de A. Le Petit.
Histoire de France Tintamarresque, par Touchatout (Illustrated). Paris. This only brings the history down to the flight of Louis Philippe in 1848.
Histoire Tintamarresque de Napoleon III., par Touchatout. Paris, 1877.
This takes up the History of France at the point where the preceding work ceased, namely, 1848. The caricature 31 illustrations, by Hadol, in this are bitterly hostile to Napoleon III. and his principal adherents.
La Dégringolade Impériale, seconde partie de l’Histoire Tintamarresque de Napoléon III. Par Touchatout. Dessins de G. Lafosse. Paris, 1878.
Grande Mythologie Tintamarresque, par Touchatout. Dessins de G. Lafosse et Moloch. Paris, 1881.
It will be readily understood that the gross legends of the Heathen Mythology present topics likely to meet with congenial treatment from a French author and artists, and that consequently this work (although very laughable) is not largely used in ladies boarding schools.
Histoire Populaire et Tintamarresque de la Belgique, depuis l’époque des forêts vierges jusqu’a celle des tramways. Par Fernand Delisle. Illustreé par Léon Libonis, 2 vols. Brussels.
Victor Hugo was nothing if not original. He found the French drama restricted by old-fashioned rules, and its poetry cramped and conventional. He selected new metres, and adapted his style to the subjects, relinquishing the solemn but monotonous measure in which Racine, Corneille, and Voltaire had composed their classic tragedies. He did not disdain to press uncouth polysyllables into service when the necessities of rhyming seemed to require it. His style was funnily parodied in the lines—
The Atticism of French taste had never been favourable to versification of this kind; and if Victor Hugo had been nothing but an eccentric innovator he would have failed completely. But Victor Hugo wrote great things, and the vagaries of his style were the natural expressions of an original mind; they were not the result of studied affectation. His works in prose, in poetry, and the drama suffered from enthusiastic imitators and professional perverters. His plays have been persistently burlesqued, his tragedy Marie Tudor was parodied under various titles, as “Marie, tu ronfles!” “Marie Dort-tu?” “Marie tu dors encore,” and “Marionette.” His Angelo was burlesqued, as “Cornaro, Tyran pas doux,” his Ruy Blas as “Ruy Blag,” and as “Ruy Black” by Charles Gabet, played at the Folies Bergères April 13, 1872, and as “Ruy Blas d’en Face,” also played in Paris in 1872.
Ruy Brac, Tourte en cinq Boulettes, avec assaisonnement de gros sel, de vers et de couplets, par Maxime de Redon. Paris, November, 1838.
His Ernani was burlesqued as “Harnali, ou la Contrainte par Cor,” and as “Ni, Ni, ou le Danger des Castilles,” both produced in Paris as far back as 1830.
The elder Dumas’ play “Quin, ou désordre et génie” was travestied as “Kinne; ou, que de génie en désordre.”
Numerous other burlesques of the French dramatists exist, most of which are published by Messrs. Tresse and Stock, Galérie du Théâtre-Français, Paris, from whom lists of their theatrical publications (with prices) can be obtained.
When Herr Wagner’s Rienzi was produced at the Théâtre Lyrique some Parisian punster brought out a parody called “Rien! scie en trois actes.” Scie means literally a “saw,” but in French argot it is equivalent to our slang word “sell.”
Travestirte Fabeln des Phadrus, mit einem Anhang Mysterioser Gesange. Karl Dieffenbach. Frankfurt, 1794.
Virgils Æneis travestirt, Von V. Blumauer. Leipzig, 1841.
This was a German travesty of Virgil, with numerous very curious and comical illustrations.
Lovers of parody will find in the feuilleton of the Deutsche Montags Zeitung a series of “Poems and Novels by eminent Hands,” in which the styles of the leading German writers of the day are very happily burlesqued.
As to other German parodies, it must suffice to mention Dr. J. Scheible’s celebrated catalogue of German comic literature, which touches on Parodies and Travesties; and Das Kloster, another work by J. Scheible, published at Stuttgart in 1845. But the art of Parody does not appear to flourish so well in Germany as in France and England.
——:o:——
ENGLISH BURLESQUE
TRANSLATIONS OF THE CLASSICS.
(Not Theatrical.)
A list of the principal English translations of the ancient classics is given below in the following order: Anacreon, Aristophanes, Aristotle, Æsop, Homer, Horace, Lucian, Ovid and Virgil.
Anacreon in Dublin, with Notes. 1814. Satirical Parodies, dedicated to Lord Byron.
The British Birds. A communication from the Ghost of Aristophanes. By Mortimer Collins. London. The Publishing Company, Limited, 1872. Several extracts from this clever satire have been given in Parodies.
The Art of Pluck, a Treatise after the fashion of Aristotle, writ for the use of Students in the Universities. Oxford, 1843.
Fables by G. Washington Æsop. With humorous illustrations by F. S. Church. London. W. Mack. No date, about 1885.
Homer Travestie, a Burlesque Translation of Homer, in Hudibrastic verse. By Thomas Bridges.
Booksellers almost invariably catalogue this as “a work full of humour, but which often transgresses the bounds of decency,” a stolen phrase which very inadequately describes its coarseness. The first volume of this translation appeared in 1762 with the facetious title “A New Translation of Homer’s Iliad, adapted to the capacity of Honest English Roast Beef and Pudding Eaters, by Caustic Barebones, a broken apothecary.”
Homer à la Mode. A Mock Poem upon the First and Second Books of Homer’s Iliads. Anonymous. Oxford, R. Davis. 1664.
Homer for the Holidays. By a Boy of Twelve. (Richard Doyle). London. “Pall Mall Gazette” Office, 1887. Fifteen very humorous plates to illustrate Homer’s Iliad.
The Odes of Horace, with a translation of Dr. Bentley’s Notes, and Notes upon Notes; Done in the Bentleian Stile and Manner. London. Bernard Lintott. 1712. This contained a burlesque criticism by Oldisworth on Dr. Bentley’s Horace. It was published in twenty-four parts.
The Art of Politics, in imitation of the Art of Poetry. James Bramestone. Dublin, 1729.
Horace in London: consisting of Imitations of the First Two Books of the Odes of Horace. By James and Horace Smith. London, 1815.
Railway Horace. By G. Chichester Oxenden. London: Upham and Beet. 1862.
Horace at the University of Athens, (Ascribed to Sir George Otto Trevelyan.) Cambridge: Jonathan Palmer. 1862. Contains several excellent parodies.
326 Horace’s Odes Englished and Imitated, by various hands, selected and arranged by Charles W. J. Cooper. London: George Bell and Sons. 1889.
This collection is in two parts, the first being simple translations, the second part being made up of burlesques, imitations, and satires founded upon the Odes of Horace. The best of these were written by the authors of The Rejected Addresses, James and Horace Smith.
Lexiphanes, a Dialogue, imitated from Lucian, and suited to the present Times, with a dedication to Lord Lyttleton. 1767. A piece of satire directed against Dr. Johnson by one Archibald Campbell.
The Sale of Authors. A Dialogue in imitation of Lucian. 1767.
The New Lucian, being a Series of Dialogues of the Dead. By H. D. Traill. London, 1884.
Burlesque upon Burlesque: or, the Scoffer Scoff’d. Being some of Lucian’s Dialogues newly put into English Fustian, for the Consolation of those who had rather Laugh and be Merry, than be Merry and Wise. By Charles Cotton. London.
Ovid Travestie, a Burlesque upon Ovid’s Epistles. By (Captain) Alexander Radcliffe. London, J. Tonson. 1680.
The Wits Paraphras’d; or, Paraphrase upon Paraphrase. In a Burlesque on the several late translations of Ovid’s Epistles. London, 1680.
Ovid in London: Ludicrous Poem in Six Cantos. By a Member of the University of Oxford. London: W. Anderson, 1814.
Scarronides: or, Virgil Travestie. A Mock Poem on the First and Fourth Books of Virgil’s “Æneis” in English Burlesque. By Charles Cotton. London, 1670. There have been many editions of this burlesque.
A Kerry Pastoral, in imitation of the First Eclogue of Virgil. Edited by T. C. Croker. (Reprint 1843).
Maronides, or Virgil Travestie, being a New Paraphrase upon Book V. of Virgil’s Æneids, in Burlesque Verse. By John Phillips. 1672.
The Canto added by Maphœus to Virgil’s Twelve Books of Æneas, from the original Bombastic, done into English Hudibrastic; with Notes beneath, and Latin text in every other page annextx By John Ellis. 1758.
Those who wish to see an almost perfect specimen of a classical parody must turn to Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, July 1823, in which they will find
An Idyl on the Battle.
* * * * *
In a somewhat similar vein of parody is Tom Moore’s Milling-Match between Entellus and Dares. Translated from the Fifth book of the Æneid.
* * * * *
A Free and Independent Translation of the First and Fourth Books of the Æneid of Virgil. In Hexameter and Pentameter. With Illustrations by Thomas Worth. The Winsted Herald Office, Winsted, Conn. U.S.A. 1870.
This is a burlesque in “Modern American,” with very comical woodcuts.
The Siege of Oxford. Fragments from the second book of the “Nova Æneis.” Oxford: F. Macpherson. 1852.
Georgics of Bacchicles. In Three Books. Now first published in the English tongue. Oxford, T. Shrimpton.
——:o:——
Many of the beautiful legends of the old Grecian mythology have been chosen as the themes for burlesques, both poetical and dramatic.
A list of the dramatic burlesques will be given later on, of the poetical mythological burlesques many may be found in Punch, and the other comic papers; the following originally appeared in the Hornet:
——:o:——
Arundines Cami sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Lusus Canori. Henricus Drury, A.M. Cambridge. Parker and Son. 1841.
This contains Latin versions of all the most celebrated short English poems, including Gray’s Elegy, the Burial of Sir John Moore, and some nursery rhymes.
Before leaving the Classics mention must be made of a curious branch of poetry entitled Macaronic verse. Examples of this, and many of them very ingenious, are to be found in Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentricities selected by William T. Dobson. London. Chatto and Windus, 1882.
Octave Delepierre also wrote several essays on the subject, the principal being entitled Littérature Macaronique.
One of the best of these literary curiosities is a small pamphlet (to be had of Mr. J. Vincent, Oxford,) entitled—
“Uniomachia; a Greek-Latin Macaronic Poem,” by Thomas Jackson, M.A. This was originally published in 1833, with a translation into English verse (after the manner of the late ingenious Mr. Alexander Pope), styled “The Battle at the Union.”
Another humorous pamphlet also published by Vincent, Viae per Angliam Ferro Stratae, and written by Mr. Fanshawe of Baliol College in 1841, was a comical skit on the early railways, in Latin hexameters.
Many Macaronic poems have appeared in Punch from time to time, to the great delight and amusement of classical scholars. The following, published in March, 1852, is a fine example of this class of learned frivolity:—
——:o:——
The Oldest Classical Burlesque.
Batrachomyomachia is the cheerful title of the oldest burlesque extant, and even if we do not accept the tradition which assigns its composition to Homer, we may safely consider it to be the earliest of the many travesties of the heroic style of the “Iliad” and “Odyssey.”
According to Plutarch, the real author was one Pigres, of Halicarnassus, who flourished during the Persian war. Statius conjectures that Homer wrote it when a youth, as a trial of his poetical powers; whilst the author of one of finest English translations of Homer, George Chapman, asserts that the work was composed in his old age; when, disgusted with the neglect and ingratitude of his contemporaries, he set to work to show that he could elevate and dignify the wars and struggles of insignificant animals, as he had previously described the heroic actions of the Greeks and Trojans.
Samuel Wesley published an English translation of the Batrachomyomachia, which he called “The Iliad in a Nutshell.” He speaks of it “as perhaps the best, as well as the oldest burlesque in the world.”
The following is a synopsis of the plot of this poem, generally known as the Battle of the Frogs and Mice.
A mouse, having just escaped the pursuit of a hungry weasel, stays by the edge of a pond to drink and take breath, when a frog swims up, enters into conversation, and invites the mouse to visit his abode. The mouse consents, and mounts upon the back of the frog, who swims into the middle of the pool. Suddenly an otter appears, the terrified frog dives to the bottom, leaving the mouse to struggle with the foaming billows. Unable to reach the shore, he sinks to a watery grave; a comrade who had arrived at the brink too late to be of service, hastens to relate the pitiful tale to a council of his fellows, and war is at once declared against the Frogs.
Jupiter and the gods deliberate in Olympus on the issue of the contest. Mars and Minerva decline personal interference, partly from awe inspired by such mighty combatants, and partly from the ill will they bear towards the contending parties.
A band of mosquitoes sound the war-alarum with their trumpets, and, after a bloody engagement, the frogs are defeated with great slaughter. Jupiter, sympathising with their fate, endeavours in vain by his thunders to intimidate the victors from further pursuit. The rescue of the frogs is at last effected by an army of landcrabs, which marches up, attacks the mice, and drives them from the field in great disorder.
Wesley’s translation of the dénouement is a specimen of the mock-heroic style which runs through the original:—
Burlesques of Educational Works
Guides, Tutors’ Assistants, and Histories.
In Alphabetical Order.
The Art of Pluck. Being a Treatise after the Fashion of Aristotle; writ for the use of Students in the Universities. By Scriblerus Redivivus. (This clever work was written by the Rev. Edward Caswell, and first published in 1835. It has run through many editions, and can still be obtained from Mr. J. Vincent, Bookseller, Oxford.)
The Book of Fun; or, Laugh and Learn. London: James Gilbert. This contained “The Illustrated English Grammar;” “Rhetoric and Elocution;” “Illustrated Arithmetic or, Cyphering made Comical;” “The Comic History of Rome, and the Rumuns.” These were all humourously illustrated.
Catalogue of the Valuable Contents of Strawberry Hill, the Seat of Horace Walpole, 24 days’ sale, by Mr. George Robins. This catalogue is often accompanied by the humorous parody: “Specimen of the Catalogue of the Great Sale at Goosebery Hall, with Puffatory Remarks.”
The Comic Blackstone. By Gilbert Abbot à Beckett, with illustrations by George Cruikshank. London: Bradbury, Agnew & Co. Mr. G. A. à Beckett was fully qualified by his education as a barrister, and his practice as a Metropolitan Police Magistrate, to discourse learnedly of the law. He died in August, 1856.
31 In 1887 his son, Mr. Arthur W. à Beckett, brought out a new, and enlarged edition of The Comic Blackstone, with illustrations by Mr. Harry Furniss. This was also published by Bradbury, Agnew & Co.
Caricature History of the Georges; or, Annals of the House of Hanover, compiled by Thomas Wright, F. S. A. London: John Camden Hotten. Illustrated.
The original edition appeared as early as 1849, but Hotten’s later reprint was more complete.
Catalogue of the Valuable Contents of Strawberry Hill, the Seat of Horace Walpole, 24 days sale, by Mr. George Robins, 1842.
Inserted in this is sometimes found a humorous parody on the Sale Catalogue. “Specimen of the Catalogue of the Great Sale at Gooseberry Hall, with Puffatory Remarks.”
The Comic Bradshaw; or, Bubbles from the Boiler. By Angus B. Reach. Illustrated by H. G. Hine. London: David Bogue, 1848.
This little pamphlet has no connection with the tedious and complicated book of reference alluded to in the title. It contains several parodies.
The Comic Cocker; or, Figures for the Million. With illustrations. This was published, without any author’s name or date, by Ward and Lock, London. It was probably written by Alfred Crowquill, i.e. A. H. Forrester.
The Comic English Grammar; a new and facetious introduction to the English tongue. By “Paul Prendergast,” i.e., Mr. Percival Leigh. With illustrations by John Leech. London: 1840. There have been numerous editions of this work.
Comic Etiquette Illustrated; or, Hints how to Conduct Oneself in the Best Society, by an X.M.C. With sketches by T. Onwhyn. Very scarce. About 1840.
The Comic Etiquette; or, Manners for the Million. By “A Nice Young Man.” With numerous illustrations. London: Diprose and Bateman.
The Comic Guide to the Royal Academy for 1864. By the Gemini. Illustrated. London: John Nichols, 1864.
The Comic History of England. By Gilbert Abbott à Beckett. With illustrations by John Leech. London: Bradbury, Agnew and Co., 1847-8.
The Comic History of England. By O. P. Q. Philander Smiff. With illustrations. London: Myra and Son. (This originally appeared in Figaro.)
The Comic History of England, Ireland, and Scotland. London: Diprose and Bateman.
A Comic History of France. By O. P. Q. Philander Smiff. With sketches in French chalks. London: Myra and Son, 1888.
Ye Comic History of Heraldry. By R. H. Edgar. Illustrated by William Vine. London: William Tegg and Co., 1878. Unlike most “comic” histories, this contains some useful information for the student of heraldry.
The Comic History of London, from the Earliest Period. By Walter Parke. With numerous illustrations. London: “Boys of England” Office.
Ye Comick Historie of ye Citie of London. By Gog and Magog. With illustrations. London: J. A. Brook & Co., 1878.
The Comic History of Rome. By Gilbert Abbott à Beckett. With illustrations by John Leech. London: Bradbury, Agnew & Co., 1850.
The Comic History of the Russian War, poetically and pictorially described by Percy Cruikshank. With plates. About 1856.
Comic Illustrated Multiplication. By Buz and Fuz. Illustrated. London: Dean & Son. (No date.)
The Comic Latin Grammar; a new and facetious introduction to the Latin tongue. By Paul Prendergast. With illustrations by John Leech. (“Paul Prendergast” was Mr. Percival Leigh, a contributor to Punch from its commencement.) London: 1840.
A Companion to the Guide; and a Guide to the Companion; being a complete supplement to all the accounts of Oxford hitherto published. This satire on the Guide to Oxford was published anonymously in 1760. It was written by the Rev. Thomas Warton.
Craniology Burlesqued, in three Serio-Comic Lectures, recommended to the Patronage of Drs. Gall and Spurzheim, by a Friend to Common Sense. London, 1818.
Cricket. Edited by G. Hutchison, 1888. This contained several parodies.
Cricketers Guyed for 1886. By W. Sapte, Jun. With cuts. London: J. & R. Maxwell, 1886. This contains some valuable information for cricketers, given in a bright and humorous style.
The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Esq., while an Undergraduate at Cambridge. Cambridge: J. Palmer, 1866.
Drawing for the Million; or, Laugh and Learn. London: Diprose & Bateman.
England’s Reformation, from the time of Henry the Eighth to the end of Oates’s Plot. By T. Ward. A Hudibrastic poem describing the reformation from a Roman Catholic point of view. First published about 1700.
English as She is Taught; being genuine answers to Examination questions in our Public Schools. Collected by Caroline B. Le Row, with a Commentary thereon by Mark Twain. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1887.
Mark Twain’s article on this subject had first appeared in the Century Magazine for April, 1887.
English as She is Wrote, showing curious ways in which the English language may be made to convey ideas or obscure them. London: G. Routledge & Sons.
This contained some curious Signboards, Advertisements, Epitaphs, and Parodies.
Freaks and Follies of Fabledom; a Little Lemprière, or Mythology made easy. London: John Ollivier, 1852. This is really a drawing-room Mythology.
Fun’s Academy Skits. Skitched by Gordon Thomson, with Notes by “Nestor.” London: “Fun” Office, 1881 and 1882. These contained numerous parodies, both poetical and pictorial.
Games made Game of. By Two Game Cocks. (Chess, Billiards, Cribbage, Forfeits, Cricket, Football, &c.) London: James Allen, 1857.
The Gladstone A. B. C. Illustrated. Edinburgh: W. Blackwood & Sons. (No date, but about 1884.)
The Great Exhibition “Wot is to be; or, probable results of the Industry of all Nations.” By George Augustus Sala. London: 1851.
Harry Furniss’s Royal Academy. An Artistic Joke. A Catalogue of the Exhibition, containing over Eighty illustrations after the Artists. London: 1887.
Harry Furniss’s illustrations were parodies of paintings by the most famous artists of the day.
The Heraldry of Nature, comprising the Arms, Supporters, 31 Crests, and Mottoes of the English Peers, descriptive of their several qualities. With plates. London: 1785. A very satirical work; the following was the description it gave of the Arms of the dissolute Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV.: First, azure, the prince’s cap, feathers disordered; second argent, four decanters azure; third gules, a fringed petticoat between three maidens’ heads; fourth, sable, the ace of spades proper; fifth argent, a horse courant between three rattles; sixth gules, a quiver, the arrows scattered.
Supporters. The dexter, Cupid; the sinister, a monkey.
Crest. A deer wounded.
Motto. Fions à l’avenir.
Hints on Etiquette, for the University of Oxford; to which are added some remarks on “Honour.” By Professor Taglioni Jonez. Oxford, 1838. This has been frequently reprinted, and can still be obtained from Mr. J. Vincent.
Hints to Freshmen in the University of Oxford. Oxford: J. Vincent. This humorous work has been ascribed to Canon Hole. In addition to the “Hints to Freshmen,” it contains nine excellent poetical parodies, extracts from which have already been quoted in this Collection.
History of the Decline and Fall of the British Empire. By Edwarda Gibbon (Auckland, A.D. 2884.) London: Field & Tuer, 1884.
Homburg no Humbug; ye Diarie of Mr. Pips while there, with plates. London, 1867.
Leading Cases done into English. By an Apprentice of Lincoln’s Inn. (Said to be Professor Pollock). London: Macmillan & Co. 1876.
Manners and Customs of ye Englishe, drawn from ye Quicke, to which is added some Extracts from Mr. Pips, hys Diarie, contributed by Percival Leigh, illustrations by Richard Doyle. London: Bradbury & Evans, 1849.
Marks and Re-marks for the Catalogue of the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, 1856. Written in the manner of Longfellow’s Hiawatha. London: Golbourn, 1856.
Max in the Metropolis. A Visit Paid by Yankee Doodle to Johnny Bull. By Max P. Romer. Illustrated. London: G. Routledge & Sons. 1887.
The Model Primer. By Eugene Field, of Denver Tribune. Published by Fred Tredwell, of Nassau Street, New York, U.S., and Bernard Quaritch, London. Illustrated by “Hop.” 1886.
(This is one of the drollest of Yankee books of humour.)
More Hints on Etiquette, for the use of Society at large, and Young Gentlemen in Particular. With cuts by George Cruikshank. London: Charles Tilt, 1838.
A parody of “Hints on Etiquette, and the Usages of Society: with a glance at bad habits.”
London: Longmans & Co. 1836.
Music for the Million; or, Singing made Easy. By Dick Crotchet. London: Diprose & Bateman.
The Mysteries of London, and Strangers Guide to the Art of Living and Science of Enjoyment in the Great Metropolis. By Father North. London: Hugh Cunningham, 1844. A satirical guide to London in the form of a dictionary.
Overland Journey to the Great Exhibition, showing a few Extra Articles and Visitors. Being a Panoramic Procession of humorous figures representing the various Peoples of the Earth, exhibiting their national Characteristics, 109 inches in length. By Richard Doyle. London: 1851.
A Parody upon the History of Greece. Published by the Society for the Confusion of Useful Knowledge. (By A. F. Braham.) London: W. S. Johnson. 1837.
The Pictorial Grammar. By Alfred Crowquill. The first edition was published by Harvey and Darton, London, without any date. It has since been re-issued by William Tegg & Co., 1876.
(Mr. Alfred Henry Forrester, who wrote as “Alfred Crowquill,” was born in London in 1806, and died May 26, 1872. He also wrote The Tutor’s Assistant.)
Picture Logic; or, the Grave made Gay, an Attempt to popularise the Science of Reasoning by the combination of Humorous Pictures with Examples of Reasoning taken from Daily Life. By Alfred Swinbourne, B.A., Queen’s College, Oxford. London: Longmans & Co., 1875.
The Pleader’s Guide; a Didactic Poem, in two parts: containing Mr. Surrebutter’s Poetical Lectures on the conduct of a Suit at Law (by J. Anstey). London: T. Cadell, 1804.
The Premier School-Board Primer; with forty illustrations. London: E. Appleyard, 1884.
A Satire on Mottos, being a literal translation and Criticism on all the Mottos which now decorate the Arms of the English Nobility and the Sixteen Peers of Scotland, with humorous reflections on each. (A skit on heraldry.)
Showell’s Comic Guide to the Inventories. London, 1885.
The Story of the Life of Napoleon III., as told by Popular Caricaturists of the last Thirty Years. London: John Camden Hotten, 1871.
Tom Treddlehoyle’s Peep at t’ Manchister Art Treasures Exhebishan e 1857, an uther wunderful things beside at cum in hiz way i t’ city of Manchister. 1857.
Transactions of the Loggerville Literary Society. London: Printed for Private Circulation by J. R. Smith, 36, Soho Square, 1867. Illustrated. This singular work contains a “Concise History of England,” in 61 verses, a burlesque examination paper, and “Dandyados,” a Tragedy, which is a parody of “Bombastes Furioso.”
The Tutor’s Assistant; or Comic Figures of Arithmetic; slightly altered and elucidated from Walking-Game. By Alfred Crowquill, i.e. A. H. Forrester. London, 1843.
The World Turned inside out; or Comic Geography, and Comic History of England. With Illustrations. London: Diprose and Bateman (originally published in 1844).
A Mathematical Problem.
If you take the mean of an isosceles triangle, bisect it at one and an eighth, giving a centrifugal force of three to one; then describe a gradient on its periphery of ¾ to the square inch, throwing off the right angles from the previously ascertained square root, you form a rhomboid whose base is equal to the circumference of a circle of twice its own cubic contents. These premisses being granted it stands to reason that it is impossible for a steam engine of 40 H.P. nominal to go through a tunnel of the same dimensions, without tearing the piston cock off the main boiler, even with the rotation derived from a double stuffing box, high pressure steam, and a vacuum of 43°. Q. E. D.
n the following Table a rather wide interpretation has been given to the word Burlesque, so that some of J. R. Planché’s witty extravaganzas have been included, and a few even of the clever pantomime openings written by the late Mr. E. L. Blanchard. The object aimed at being to insert particulars of every Dramatic production which professed to be a Burlesque, or a Travestie of any well-known Play, Novel, Poem, or Poetical Legend.
Probably some thousands of Burlesques have been performed which have never attained the dignity of print, and in the following pages will be found many Burlesques which have never been publicly acted, although written in dramatic form.
I wish to express my sincere thanks to my esteemed friend Mr. T. F. Dillon Croker for the great assistance he has rendered in this compilation. Not only was his curious dramatic library generously placed at my disposal, but he also undertook to revise the proof sheets, his intimate knowledge of theatrical history enabling him to make numerous valuable suggestions. I have also to thank Mr. F. Howell for the loan of many early burlesques, and to mention that in the verification of dates the Era Almanacks have been of great service. It is to be regretted that this useful publication was not started until 1868. Long may it flourish!
In a Table containing nearly eight hundred entries, and the first of its kind ever compiled, it is almost inevitable that some errors and omissions should occur. Mr. Samuel French, the theatrical publisher, in answer to a politely worded request, not only declined to give the slightest assistance, but even refused permission to consult any of his Play books for the verification of a few dates. This information is not readily accessible at the British Museum Library, as under the peculiar method of cataloguing there adopted, it is necessary to know the author’s name of any work one desires to consult. As Mr. French possesses a virtual monopoly of the sale of modern English plays it is to be regretted that he will not extend a little courteous assistance to writers on Dramatic history.
Mr. John Dicks, of 313, Strand, who issues very cheap and readable reprints of old English plays, gave me all the information in his power, but, as yet, he has only published a few Burlesques.
In the Table a strictly alphabetical arrangement of Titles has been adopted, followed by the date and place of first performance, and in some cases the names of the principal performers have been given. For convenience of reference the articles, The, Ye, A, An, Le, La, L’, Il, have been ignored. Thus—L’Africaine will be found under the letter A, and La Sonnambula under the letter S.
Where the name of a Theatre is given, without any town, London is to be understood.
Burl. signifies | Burlesque. | |
Burl. panto. | „ | Burlesque Pantomime. |
Burl, extrav. | „ | Burlesque Extravaganza. |
Burl. op. | „ | Burlesque Opera. |
N.D. | „ | No date. |
Abon Hassan; or, The Hunt after Happiness. By Francis Talfourd. St. James’s. December 26, 1854. J. L. Toole and Miss Eleanor Bufton.
Abon Hassan; or, An Arabian Knight’s Entertainment. By Arthur O’Neil. Charing Cross. December 11, 1869. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
Abou; or, The Sleeper Awakened, burlesque, by Joseph Tabrar. T. R. Coventry. August 3, 1885.
Acis and Galatea, paraphrased, by W. H. Oxberry. Adelphi. February 8, 1842. Wright & Paul Bedford.
Acis and Galatea, burlesque, by F. C. Burnand.
Acis and Galatea, by T. F. Plowman. Oxford, Dec. 1869.
Adonis. An “American Eccentricity,” by Gill and Dixey. Gaiety. May 31, 1886. Performed by an American company, and damned by the London press, as a noisy, stupid and meaningless production. Mr. Henry E. Dixey, the leading performer, as “Adonis,” gave some imitations (not in the best taste) of Henry Irving.
L’Africaine; or, the Belle of Madagascar, by Captain Arbuthnot.
L’Africaine, burl. By F. C. Burnand. Strand, Nov. 18, 1865, and revived in 1876. Edward Terry, Harry Cox and Marius.
Agamemnon at Home; or, the Latest Particulars of that little affair at Mycenæ. A Burlesque Sketch. First performed at the St. John’s College, A. T., during Commemoration, 1867. Oxford. T. & G. Shrimpton, 1867. (By the late Mr. E. Nolan, of St. John’s).
Agamemnon and Cassandra; or, The Prophet and Loss of Troy, by R. Reece. Prince of Wales’s, Liverpool, April 13, 1868.
Airey Annie, travestie of Ariane, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, April 4, 1888. Willie Edouin, W. Cheesman, Misses Alice Atherton and M. Ayrtoun. The latter lady mimicked Mrs. Bernard Beere’s impersonation of Ariane.
A Knock at the Door; or, Worsted Works Wonders, by Stafford O’Brien and R. M. Milnes. Acted by 31 Amateurs at the Cambridge University, March 19, 1830. Privately printed.
Aladdin; or, the Wonderful Lamp in a New Light, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. July 4, 1844. Wright, Paul Bedford, Augustus Harris, Madame Sala.
Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Scamp. By Henry J. Byron. Strand, April 1, 1861. H. J. Turner, J. Rogers, J. Clarke, Misses C. Saunders, F. Josephs, E. Bufton and Marie Wilton.
Aladdin II.; or, An Old Lamp in a New Light, by Alfred Thompson. Gaiety. December, 1870. Burl.-Opera. J. L. Toole, Stoyle, Miss E. Farren and Miss Loseby.
Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp, by Frank W. Green. Charing Cross. December 23, 1874.
Aladdin and the Flying Genius. Philharmonic. Dec. 26, 1881.
Aladdin. Burl.-drama, by R. Reece. Gaiety. December 24, 1881. E. Terry, E. W. Royce, T. Squire, Misses E. Farren, P. Broughton and Kate Vaughan.
Aladdin; or, The Scamp, the Tramp, and the Lamp, by Lloyd Clarance. Blackpool Gardens. May 14, 1883.
Aladdin; or, the Wonderful Lamp, by J. R. O’Neill.
Aladdin. Panto-openings written by E. L. Blanchard for Covent Garden, December 1865, and for Drury Lane December 1874, and December 1885.
Alcestis, the Original Strong-minded Woman; being a most shameless misinterpretation of the Greek drama of Euripides. By Francis Talfourd. Strand. July 4, 1850. H. Farren, W. Farren, Compton, Miss Adams, and Mrs. Leigh Murray (as Alcestis).
Alexander the Great, In Little. Burlesque. By Thomas Dibdin. Strand. August 7, 1837.
Alfred the Great. Historical extrav., by R. B, Brough. Olympic. December 26, 1859.
Alfred the Ingrate, by Wentworth V. Bayly. T. R. Plymouth. May 8, 1871.
Alhambra, Burlesque. By Albert Smith. Princess’s. April 21, 1851.
Ali Baba, burlesque-extravaganza, by H. J. Byron. Strand. April 6, 1863.
Ali Baba à la Mode. By R. Reece. Gaiety. September 14, 1872. J. L. Toole, Miss E. Farren.
All about the Battle of Dorking; or, My Grandmother. By F. C. Burnand and Arthur Sketchley. Alhambra. August 7, 1871. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
Ali Baba; or, The Forty Naughty Thieves. T. R. Birkenhead, May 14, 1883.
Alonzo the Brave; or, Faust and the Fair Imogene, by F. C. Burnand. Written for the A. D. C., Cambridge, and first performed on May 20, 1857. It has since been acted in London.
Alonzo ye Brave and ye Fayre Imogene, by Sam H. Harrison. Alexandra T. Liverpool. April 2, 1876.
Alonzo and Imogene; or, The Dad, the Lad, the Lord, and the Lass, by W. W. Bird. T. R. Richmond. April 17, 1869.
Amoroso, King of Little Britain. By J. R. Planché. Drury Lane. April 21, 1818. This was Mr. Planché’s first attempt, and the success it achieved he modestly ascribed to the excellent acting of Harley, Knight, Oxberry, G. Smith, Mrs. Orger and Mrs. Bland. Amoroso was not included in Mr. Dillon Croker’s edition of Planché’s works, by the Author’s special desire, it being considered by him as a work of scarcely sufficient importance.
Amy Robsart. Burlesque. By Mark Kinghorne. T. R. Norwich. May 10, 1880.
Æneas; or, Dido Done. By H. Such Granville. T. R. Cork. March 2, 1868.
Anne Boleyne. Burl. By Conway Edwardes. New Royalty. September 7, 1872.
Another Drink. Burlesque. By Savile Clarke and Lewis Clifton. Folly. July 12, 1879.
Antigone. A Classical Burl. By H. R. Hand. (Who died under very melancholy circumstances in 1874.) Oxford: T. & G. Shrimpton.
Antony and Cleopatra; or, His-Tory and Her Story, in a Modern Nilo Metre. By F. C. Burnand. Haymarket, November 21, 1866. Mr. & Mrs. Charles Mathews, Compton, Rogers, Clark, & Miss Fanny Wright.
Antony and Cleopatra. Burl. By J. F. Draper. Royal Hall. Jersey, December 16, 1870.
Area Sylph; or, a Footboy’s Dream. A burlesque upon the “Mountain Sylph,” by “Miss Betsey Fry.” English Opera House.
Ariadne; or, the Bull, the Bully, and the Bullion, A Classical Burlesque. By Vincent Amcotts. Oxford: T. & G. Shrimpton, 1867.
Ariel. Burlesque fairy drama. Founded on The Tempest. By F. C. Burnand. Gaiety, October 8, 1883.
Arion; or the Story of a Lyre. By F. C. Burnand. Strand. December 20, 1871. H. J. Turner, Edward Terry, Harry Paulton, Misses Rose Cullen, and Topsy Venn.
Arline, the Lost Child. By Best & Bellingham. Sadler’s Wells. July 23, 1864.
Arrah-na-Brogue. By A. C. Shelley. Sadler’s Wells. October 25, 1865.
The Ar-Rivals; or a Trip to Margate. Travestie. By J. M. Banero and A. D. Pincroft. Avenue. June 24, 1884. Intended as a travestie of the famous revival of “The Rivals,” at the Haymarket Theatre, by Bancroft and Pinero. “The Ar-Rivals” was a failure.
The Ashantee War. Burlesque. By James Sandford; Alexandra Opera House, Sheffield. May 25, 1874.
Atalanta; or, the Three Golden Apples. By Francis Talfourd. Haymarket, April 13, 1857. Chippendale, Compton, Clark, Misses M. Wilton and M. Oliver.
Atalanta, by George P. Hawtrey. Strand, November 17, 1888. W. F. Hawtrey, T. Squire, and Misses Marie Linden and Alma Stanley.
Babes in the Wood, burlesque, by George Capel. Gaiety Theatre, Douglas, Isle of Man, July 26, 1884.
Babes in the Wood. Burl.-drama, by H. J. Byron. Adelphi, July 18, 1859. J. L. Toole, P. Bedford, Mrs. A. Mellon.
The Babes in the Wood, by G. L. Gordon and G. W. Anson. Prince of Wales’s, Liverpool, April 16, 1877.
The Babes; or, Whines from the Wood, by Harry Paulton. Originally produced at the Theatre Royal, Birmingham, June 9, 1884. Also at Toole’s Theatre. London, Sept. 6, 1864, with Lionel Brough, Willie Edouin, Miss Alice Atherton.
The Barber’s Trip to Paris, burlesque. Wolverhampton, February 28, 1876.
Beautiful Haidee; or, the Sea Nymph and the Sallee Rovers, by H. J. Byron.
Beauty and the Beast. Panto-opening by E. L. Blanchard. Drury Lane, December, 1869.
Beauty and the Beast, by C. H. Hazlewood.
The Beast and the Beauty, or No Rose without a Thorn, by F. C. Burnand. Royalty, October 4, 1869. Mr. F. Dewar, Misses Kate Bishop, M. Oliver and C. Saunders. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
The Bee and the Orange Tee, burlesque, by H. J. Byron. Vaudeville.
The Beggar’s Opera, by John Gay. Originally produced in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 1728. Lord Byron called this a St. Giles’s lampoon.
Behind the Scenes, burlesque-burletta, by Charles Selby. Strand, September 12, 1839.
333 The Belle of the Barley-mow; or, the Wooer, the Waitress, and the Willian, by H. T. Arden. Cremorne Gardens, Sept. 23, 1867. W. Corri, Miss C. Parkes.
La Belle Sauvage, burlesque, by John Brougham. St. James’s, November 27, 1869. Mrs. John Wood, and Lionel Brough.
The Bells Bell-esqued and Polish Jew Polished Off; or, Mathias, the Muffin, the Mystrey, the Maiden and the Masher. Theatre Royal, Norwich, March 13, 1883.
Belphegor Travestie, by Leicester Buckingham. Strand, September 29, 1856. H. J. Turner, J. Clarke, Miss Cuthbert, Miss Thirlwall.
Belphegor the Mountebank, by C. H. Hazlewood.
Billy Taylor, burlesque-burletta, by J. B. Buckstone. Adelphi, November 9, 1829.
“The Birds” of Aristophanes, adapted by J. R. Planché. Haymarket, April 13, 1846. J. Bland, Miss P. Horton.
Black-Eyed Sukey; or, All in the Dumps, burlesque-extrav., by F. Fox Cooper. Olympic.
Black-Eyed Susan, the Latest Edition, by F. C. Burnand. New Royalty, November 29, 1866. F. Dewar, C. Wyndham, Misses M. Oliver, N. Bromley. This was afterwards revived.
Blighted Bachelors, burlesque, by Llewellyn Williams, Derby, August 29, 1881.
Blossom of Churmington Green, by F. Radcliffe Hoskins.
Blue Beard; or, Hints to the Curious, by J. H. Tully. English Opera House.
Blue Beard, burl.-burletta, by J. R. Planché. Olympic, January 1, 1839. Mr. J. Bland and Madame Vestris.
Blue Beard Re-trimmed. Park Theatre, July 9, 1877.
Blue Beard, from a new point of hue, by H. J. Byron. Adelphi, December 26, 1860.
Blue Beard Repaired, by H. Bellingham. Olympic, June 2, 1866.
Blue Beard, the Great Bashaw; or the Loves of Selim and Fatima, by H. T. Arden. Crystal Palace, March 29, 1869.
Blue Beard and Fat Emma; or, the Old Man who cried “Heads,” by Frank Green. North Woolwich Gardens, June 18, 1877.
Blue Beard and Son. Theatre Royal, Bath, March, 1880.
Blue Beard; or, the Hazard of the Dye, by F. C. Burnand. Gaiety, March 12, 1883.
Bluff King Hal; or the Maiden, the Masher, and the Monarch, Alexandra Theatre, Sheffield, March 12, 1883.
The Blundering Heir, by Henry P. Lyste.
Bobadil il Chico; or, the Moor the Merrier, by F. C. Burnand.
Boadicea the Beautiful; or, Harlequin Julius Caesar and the Delightful Druid. By F. C. Burnand. Pantomime for Amateurs, London, S. O. Beeton, 1865.
The Bohemian G-yurl and the Unapproachable Pole, by H. J. Byron. Opera Comique, Jan. 31, 1877, and Gaiety, August, 1877. E. W. Royce, Edward Terry, Misses E. Farren and Kate Vaughan. Revived in 1884.
Bombastes Furioso, a burlesque tragic opera, by William Barnes Rhodes. Haymarket, August 7, 1810. Mr. Mathews, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Liston, Miss H. Kelly. This is a travesty of Orlando Furioso, “Distaffina,” is Angelica, beloved by Orlando, whom she jilts for a young Moor named Medoro. This sends Orlando mad, and he hangs his armour on a tree with these lines beneath:—
The Bottle Imp, burlesque. Grecian Saloon. 1852.
Bride of Abydos; or the Prince, the Pirate, and the Pearl. By Henry J. Byron. No date. H. J. Turner, C. Young, Miss M. Oliver, Miss Swanborough.
The Brigand; or new Lines to an old Ban-ditty. By Gilbert A. à Beckett. Haymarket, Dec. 26, 1867. Mr. Compton.
The Bronze Horse, grand spectacle, by Howard Paul, founded on Scribe and Auber’s opera, Le Cheval de Bronze. Alhambra, July 4, 1881.
Brown and the Brahmins; or, Captain Pop and the Princess Pretty Eyes. Founded on the Drama of “The Illustrious Stranger,” by R. Reece. Globe, January 23, 1869.
Mr. Buckstone’s Ascent of Mount Parnassus. A travestie of Albert Smith’s “Ascent of Mont Blanc” by J. R. Planché. Haymarket, March 28, 1853. W. Farren, Braid, Buckstone, Mrs. Fitzwilliam.
Called Back Again, burl., parody of “Called Back” by Albert Chevalier. T. R., Plymouth, July 13, 1885.
Called There and Back, parody of H. Conway and Comyns Carr’s play “Called Back,” by Herman C. Merivale. Gaiety, October 15, 1884.
Calypso, Queen of Ogygia, by S. Brooks. Sadler’s Wells, April 15, 1865.
Camaralzaman and the Fair Badoura; or, the Bad Djinn and the Good Spirit, by Henry J. Byron. Vaudeville, Nov. 22, 1871. Thomas Thorne, and David James.
Camaralzaman, by F. C. Burnand. Gaiety, January 31, 1884. E. Terry, Soutar, Squire, Misses E. Farren and P. Broughton.
Camberwell Brothers, by C. Selby. Olympic, April 12, 1852.
Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet Restor-i-ed. Anon. Boston, U.S. C. H. Spencer, 1868.
Carmen; or, Sold for a Song, by R. Reece. Folly, Jan. 25, 1879. Lionel Brough, Miss Lydia Thompson.
Caste, a burlesque version, see Fun, May 4, 1867.
Castle of Otranto, extravaganza, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Haymarket, April 24, 1848.
Champagne, a Question of Phiz, by H. B. Farnie and R. Reece. Strand, September 29, 1877. Harry Cox, W. S. Penley, Marius, Miss Lottie Venne.
Chang-Ching-Fou, Cream of Tartar, by William Marten. Luton, April 11, 1864.
Charles II.; or, Something Like History, by Gilbert à Beckett. Court, November 25, 1872.
Charmian and Badoura, by Charles Horsman. Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, May 19, 1873.
Cheribel, burlesque, by Frank W. Green. Prince’s Theatre, Manchester, May 4, 1885.
Cherry and Fair Star, by Frank W. Green. Surrey Theatre, April 4, 1874.
Cherry and Fair Star, by C. H. Hazlewood.
The Children in the Wood; or, the Vengeance Dyer and the Pair of Dirty Kids, Bijou T. Bayswater, March 1, 1875.
A China Tale from a Delph Point of View, by H. F. Mc’Clelland. T. R., Belfast, November 11, 1878.
Chrononhotonthologos: the most Tragical Tragedy that ever was Tragedized by any Company of Tragedians. By Henry Carey. Haymarket, 1734. Revived at the Gaiety, November, 1880. Of the author, Henry Carey, it was said that “he led a life free from reproach, and hanged himself October 4, 1743.”
Christabel; or, The Bard Bewitched, by Gilbert à Beckett, Court, May 15, 1872. Partly founded on Coleridge’s famous poem.
Chrystabelle; or, the Rose without a Thorn. Extrav., by Edmund Falconer. Lyceum, December 26, 1860.
Cinderella, burl, extrav., by Albert Smith & C. L. Kenney. Lyceum, May 12, 1845.
Cinderella; or, the Lover, the Lackey, and the little Glass Slipper. By Henry J. Byron. Strand, December 26, 1860. H. J. Turner, J. Rogers, Misses M. Oliver, C. Saunders, and M. Simpson.
Cinderella in Quite Another Pair of Shoes, by Frank W. Green. Royal Gardens, North Woolwich, May 20, 1871.
Cinderella; a Story of the Slip and the Slipper, by J. W, Jones. T. R., Leicester, October 3, 1878.
334 Cinderella. Panto-opening, by E. L. Blanchard. Drury Lane, December, 1883.
Claude Du Val; or, the Highwayman for the Ladies, by F. C. Burnand. Royalty, January 23, 1869. F. Dewar, Misses M. Oliver & N. Bromley. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus. London.
The Coarse-Haired Brothers burlesque, by C. W. Taylor. New York. 1852.
Cœur de Lion, Revised, and his Enemies Corrected, by John Strachan. Strand, December 22, 1870.
Columbus el Filibustero, by John Brougham. Burton’s Theatre, New York, December, 1857.
Columbus; or, the Original Pitch in a Merry Key, by Alfred Thompson. Gaiety, May 17, 1869.
Ye Comedie of Errours, a glorious burlesque, by John F. Poole. New York. No date.
Conn; or, Out of Sight, Out of ’Erin, by F. W. Green, Alexandra T., Liverpool, April 28, 1879.
The Congress; or, the Czar and the Minister. T. R., Dover, July 8, 1878.
Conrad and Medora; or, Harlequin Corsair, and the Little Fairy at the Bottom of the Sea. A Burlesque Pantomime founded upon the ballet of “Le Corsaire,” by William Brough. Lyceum, December 26, 1856. J. L. Toole, Mrs. A. Mellon, & Marie Wilton. Also at the Crystal Palace, 1873.
Cooleen Drawn, by Martin Dutnall and J. B. Johnstone. Surrey T., October 14, 1861.
Corin; or the King of the Peaceful Isles. Queen’s T., Dublin, March 6, 1871.
The Corsair; or, the Little Fairy at the Bottom of the Sea, by William Brough. Lyceum, December 26, 1856. J. L. Toole, Mrs. A. Mellon, Miss M. Wilton.
The Corsican “Bothers”; or the Troublesome Twins, by Henry J. Byron, Globe, May 17, 1869.
The Corsican Brothers & Co., by F. C. Burnand and H. P. Stephens. Gaiety, October 25, 1880. E. W. Royce, J. Dallas, Misses E. Farren and Kate Vaughan. (In this Royce’s burlesque of Irving was very comical).
The Corsican Brother-babes-in-the-wood, extravaganza, by G. R. Sims. T. R. Hull, March 19, 1881, and Royalty Theatre, Glasgow, March 28, 1881.
The Coster Twin Brothers, by Frank Hall, Philharmonic, November 20, 1880.
Cox and Box, by Maddison Morton and F. C. Burnand, Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan. Founded on “Box and Cox.”
Cracked Heads, by Arthur Clements and F. Hay, Strand, February 2, 1876. Harry Cox, E. Terry, Lottie Venne.
A Cracker Bon-Bon for Christmas Parties, consisting of Christmas Pieces for private representation, by Robert B. Brough. This contains King Alfred and the Cakes, William Tell, Orpheus and Eurydice. With Illustrations. Published by S. French, London and New York.
Crichton, burlesque, by R. Hartley Edgar. Charing Cross, August 30, 1871.
The Critic; or, a Tragedy Rehearsed, by Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Drury Lane, 1779. “Sir Fretful Plagiary,” was intended as a burlesque of the character of Richard Cumberland, the dramatist.
The Critick Anticipated, a Literary Catchpenny, dedicated to R. B. Sheridan. London, 1780.
Cruel Carmen; or, the Demented Dragoon and the Terrible Toreador, by J. Wilton Jones. Prince’s Theatre, Manchester, March 29, 1880.
Crusoe the Second, extravaganza. Lyceum, April 5, 1847. Mr. and Mrs. Keeley, Alfred Wigan and Miss Dickinson.
Crystaline, by G. M. Layton. King’s Cross, March 6, 1871.
Cupid, Burlesque. Royalty, April 26, 1880.
Cupid, burl.-burletta, by Joseph Graves. Queen’s, 1837.
Damon the Dauntless and Phillis the Fair, by Charles Dryden. St. George’s Hall,, December 28, 1869.
Dandyados, a Tragedy. A parody of “Bombastes Furioso.” See “Transactions of the Loggerville Literary Society.” 1867.
Dandy Dick Turpin, by Geoffrey Thorn. Grand Theatre, Islington, October 7, 1889. Misses F. Leslie, F. Dysart, and Julia Warden.
Dan’l Tra-Duced, Tinker, by Arthur Clements. Strand, November 27, 1876.
The Dark King, burlesque, by C. H. Hazlewood.
David Garrick, burlesque, by Charles Colnaghi & E. Ponsonby. Criterion, May 11, 1888. (Amateur.)
The Deep, Deep Sea; or, Perseus and Andromeda, by J. R. Planché. Olympic, Dec. 26, 1833. J. Bland, J. Vining, and Madame Vestris.
Deep Red Rover, an O’Piratic Burlesque, by F. Hay and Westmacott Chapman.
Delights o’ London, by Wallis Mackay, Horace Lennard, and G. L. Gordon. Philharmonic, April, 8, 1882.
Der Freischutz; or, a Good Cast for a Piece, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, October 8, 1866.
Der Freischutz; or, the Bill, the Belle, and the Bullet, by Henry J. Byron. Prince of Wales’s, October 10, 1866.
The Desperate Adventures of the Baby; or, the Wandering Heir, by C. H. Ross & A. C. Freer. Strand, Dec. 14, 1878.
Devil’s Violin, by B. Webster. Adelphi, May 9, 1849. Wright, O. Smith, Paul Bedford, Madame Celeste, Miss Woolgar.
Diana; or, the Goddess of the Moon. Masonic T., Lincoln, October, 1882.
Dick Turpin the Second, by W. F. Goldberg. Gaiety, May, 1889.
Dick Whittington and his Cat-astrophe, by James Horner. Alexandra T. Walsall, June 16, 1884.
Dick Whittington; or, an old story re-told, by C. G. Dyall.
Dido, burlesque by F.C. Burnand. St. James’s, Feb. 11, 1860.
Dinorah under Difficulties, by W. Brough. Adelphi, Nov. 7, 1859, J. L. Toole.
Discreet Statues; or, the Water Carrier of the Alhambra, by Charles Penruddocke. Performed at Compton Park. January 9, 1874.
Doctor Dulcamara, by W. S. Gilbert. St. James’s.
Dr. Faust and Miss Marguerite; or, the Young Duck with the Old Quack, by R. J. Martin and E. A. P. Hobday. Queen’s T. Dublin, August 24, 1885.
Dolly and the Rat, or the Brisket Family, an operatic parody on “The Maid and the Magpie.” Duncombe, 1823.
Domenico, the Vile’un, by Leigh Thomas. Assembly Rooms, Camberwell, April 26, 1872.
The Domestic Hearthstone; or, the Virgin Maiden’s Vengeance, a Terrible Tragedy in One Act, by John Smith. (A Richardsonian Melo-drama.)
Don Carlos; or, the Infante in Arms, by Conway Edwardes, T. R. South Shields, Aug. 6, 1869. Vaudeville, April 16, 1870. Honey, Thorne, Miss Nelly Power.
Don Giovanni; or, a Spectre on Horseback, by Thomas Dibdin. Surrey Theatre, 1817.
Don Giovanni, by J. C. Brennan, T. R. Greenwich, March 11, 1872.
Don Giovanni in Venice, Operatic extravaganza by R. Reece. Gaiety, February 17, 1873.
Don Giovanni M.P. Princess’s Theatre, Edinburgh, April 17, 1874.
Don Giovanni, Junr; or, the Shakey Page, more Funkey than Flunkey. Greenwich, May 17, 1875.
Don Juan, Burlesque, T. R. Bradford, Nov., 22, 1870.
Don Juan; by Henry J. Byron. Alhambra, Dec., 22, 1873.
Don Juan, Junior, by the Brothers Prendergast. Royalty, November 2, 1880, E. Righton, Miss Kate Lawler.
335 Don Quixote, burl., by J. M. Killick. Cabinet, Oct. 28, 1869.
Done to-a-cinderella; or, The Drudge, the Prince, and the Plated Glass Slipper, by Fawcett Lomax. Theatre Royal, Exeter, September 12, 1881.
Dora and Diplunacy; or, a Woman of Uncommon Scents, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, February 14, 1878.
Douglas Travestie, by William Leman Rede. Adelphi, Feb. 13, 1837. O. Smith, J. Reeve, Mrs. Stirling.
The Dragon of Hougue Bie; or, The little Prince’s Tour, by J. F. Draper. Royal Hall, Jersey, Dec. 8, 1871.
Dulcamara; or, the Little Duck and the Great Quack, by W. S. Gilbert.
East Lynne, burl., Birmingham Theatre, Sept. 16, 1869.
East Lynne; or Isabel that was a Belle. Theatre Royal, Coventry, November 10, 1884.
Edwin and Angelina, by Miss Walford. Gallery of Illustration, May 6, 1871.
Effie and Jeannie Deans Burlesque, by C. H. Hazlewood.
Elbow Shakers, by F. Fox Cooper. Adelphi.
Elizabeth; or, the Don, the Duck, the Drake, and the Invisible Armada, by F. C. Burnand. Vaudeville, November 17, 1870.
Enchanted Horse, by Albert Smith and C. L. Kenney. Lyceum, December 26, 1845.
The Enchanted Isle; or, “Raising the Wind” on the most approved Principles. A parody on Shakespeare’s “Tempest,” by the Brothers Brough. Adelphi, Nov. 20, 1848. O. Smith, Paul Bedford, Miss Woolgar & Madame Celeste.
Endymion; or, the Naughty Boy who cried for the Moon, by William Brough.
Ernani; or, the Horn of a Dilemma, by William Brough. Alexandra T., May 20, 1865.
Erratic Evangeline. Birmingham T., March 10, 1884.
Esmeralda, an Operaticoterpsichorean burlesque in Two Acts, without any Foundation whatever, by two Gentlemen who won’t be answerable for anything. London, published by G. Odell, 1844.
Esmeralda, burl., by Albert Smith. Adelphi, June 3, 1850. O. Smith, Wright, Paul Bedford, Miss Woolgar, Madame Celeste.
Esmeralda; or, the “Sensation” Goat, by Henry J. Byron. Strand, Sept. 28, 1861. J. Rogers, J. Clarke, Misses Marie Wilton, E. Bufton. Revived at the Strand, June, 1871.
Eurydice (as it was damned at the T. R., in Drury Lane), by Henry Fielding: see his works.
Eurydice; or, Little Orpheus and His Lute, by H. J. Byron. Strand, April 24, 1871.
Evangeline, American burlesque. Court Theatre, Liverpool, June 11, 1883.
Fair Helen, by V. Amcotts. Oxford. Shrimpton. 1868.
Fair Star, extravaganza, by Albert Smith and J. Oxenford. Princess’s, April 8, 1844.
The Fairy Ring. Theatre Royal, Bristol, March 29, 1869.
Fancy Land; or, the Ideal King, burlesque, by C. F. Fuller, H.M.S. “Rainbow,” April 9, 1884.
Farrago, burlesque, Ashton Theatre, May 14, 1883.
The Fair Princess, burlesque, by Fred Bernard. Gaiety Theatre, Walsall, December 20, 1886.
Fair Rosamond’s Bower or, the Monarch, the Maiden, the Maze, and the Mixture, by Frederick Langbridge.
Fair Rosamond, burlesque-extravaganza, T. P. Taylor. Sadler’s Wells, 1838.
Fair Rosamond; or, the Maze, the Maid, and the Monarch, by F. C. Burnand. Olympic, April 21, 1862. F. Robson.
Faust in a Fog, by R. Reece.
Faust and Marguerite, by F. C. Burnand. St. James’s, July 9, 1864. Mr. and Mrs. Chas. Mathews, J. Clarke.
Faust; or, Marguerite’s Mangle, by C. H. Hazlewood. Britannia, March 25, 1867.
Faust in forty minutes, burlesque by Fred. Locke. Gaiety T. Glasgow. August 17, 1885.
Faust and Loose; or Brocken Vows. Travestie on Lyceum “Faust,” by F. C. Burnand. Toole’s Theatre, Feb. 4, 1886. J. L. Toole, Miss Marie Linden.
Faust and Co., by George Gordon, T. R. Greenock, February 27, 1886.
Faust up to Date, burlesque, by G. R. Sims and Henry Pettitt, Gaiety, October 30, 1888. E. J. Lonnen, Miss F. Robina, Miss F. St. John.
Faust; or the Old Man and the Devil. Woolwich T.
Fayre Rosamond; or, Ye Dagger, and Ye Poisoned Bowl by T. Cother. T. R., Gloucester, April 19, 1869.
The Field of the Cloth of Gold, burl-extrav. Strand, April 11, 1868. Harry Cox, Marius, H. J. Turner, Misses Sallie Turner and Lottie Venne.
Fine Nance; or, Alas (s) for the city; a burlesque sketch as performed by a Limited Company. London, Hatton and Son 1867. A skit on the “Companies’ Act 1862.”
The Flying Dutchman; or, the Demon Seaman and the Lass that loved a Sailor, by W. Brough. Royalty, Dec. 2, 1869.
Firmilian; or the Student of Badajoz. A Spasmodic Tragedy, by T. Percy Jones, W. Blackwood & Sons, 1854. This burlesque was written by Professor W. E. Aytoun.
F. M. Julius Cnæsar; or, the Irregular Rum ’un, by F. C. Burnand. Royalty, September 7, 1870.
The Forty Thieves, burlesque, by R. Reece, Gaiety, Dec. 24, 1880. Edward Terry, T. Squire, Royce, Misses E. Farren, and Kate Vaughan.
The Four Kings; or, Paddy in the Moon, by C. H. Hazlewood. Britannia, April 14, 1873.
Fowl Play; or, a Story of Chikken Hazard, by F. C. Burnand. Queen’s, June 20, 1868.
Fra Diavolo; or, the Beauty and the Brigands, by Henry James Byron. Strand, April 5, 1858, and revived Sept. 10, 1860. H. J. Turner, J. Rogers, Miss M. Simpson.
Fra Diavolo the Second, extravaganza, by J. T. Denny. Philharmonic, August 28, 1882.
The Frightful Hair; or, who Shot the Dog. An original Travestie on Lord Lytton’s “Rightful Heir.” By F. C. Burnand. Haymarket, December 26, 1868. Mr. Kendal, Mr. Compton, Misses Ione Burke, and F. Wright. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
Frankenstein, burlesque, by “Richard Henry.” Gaiety, December 24, 1887.
Furnivallos Furioso! and “The Newest Shakespeare Society.” London, T. Richards, 1876. Written to ridicule Mr. Furnivall, but never performed.
Galatea; or Pygmalion Re-versed, burlesque, by H. P. Stephens. Gaiety, December 26, 1883.
The Gay Musketeers; or, All for Number One, by Eldred and Paulton. P. of Wales’s, Liverpool, April 18, 1870.
Gentle Gertrude, of the Infamous Redd Lyon Inn; or, Drugged and Drowned in Digbeth! A melo-drammer in One Act, by T. E. Pemberton. Liverpool Theatre, February 21, 1881; Gaiety, London, May 14, 1884.
George Barnwell Travestie. See “Rejected Addresses,” by James and Horace Smith.
George de Barnwell, burl., by Henry J. Byron. Adelphi, December 26, 1862.
Georgy Barnwell, by Montague Corri. Surrey T., May 27, 1844.
The German Silvery King, by Walter Burnot. Elephant and Castle, March 24, 1883.
Giddy Godiva; or, the Girl that was sent to Coventry, by H. C. Newton. Sanger’s Amphitheatre, Oct. 13, 1883.
Giovanni in London, or, The Libertine Reclaimed, by W. T. Moncrieff. Drury Lane and Covent Garden, 1827.
336 The Girls of the Period, burl., by F. C. Burnand.
Giselle; or, the Sirens of the Lotus Lake, by Henry J. Byron. Olympic, July 22, 1871.
Godiva, historical burlesque, by F. Talfourd and W. Hale. Strand, July 7, 1851.
The Golden Fleece; or Jason in Colchis, a classical extrav., J. R. Planché. Haymarket, March 24, 1845. J. Bland, Miss P. Horton, Madame Vestris.
The Golden Pippin, by Kane O’Hara. Covent Garden, 1773.
The Good Fairy of St. Helen’s; or, King Coal and his Merry Men, by James Brockbank. April 22, 1872.
Good Old Barnes of New York, by Walter Burnot. Ladbroke Hall, September 25, 1888.
The Goose and Golden Eggs, by J. F. Draper (Amateur). Royal Hall, Jersey. November 19, 1869.
The Grand Duke of Camberwell, by W. M. Akhurst. Elephant and Castle, April 17, 1876.
The Great Metropolis, extrav., by F. C. Burnand. Gaiety, April 6, 1874.
Great Sensation Trial, or Circumstantial Effie-Deans, by W. Brough.
The Great Tragic Revival, an absurdity, by John Brougham, Burton’s Theatre, New York, 1858.
Greenleaf the Graceful, or the Palace of Vengeance, by W. R. Osman. Royalty, February 26, 1872.
The “Grin” Bushes! or, the “Mrs.” Brown of the “Missis”-Sippi. Founded on the “Green Bushes.” By Henry J. Byron. Strand, Dec. 26, 1864. David James, J. Stoyle, Misses M. Simpson & Ada Swanborough.
Grizelle; or Dancing Mad. A Legend of St. Vitus, by W. H. Oxberry. English Opera House.
The Guardians, or is “Union” Strength? by “Ixion.”
The Guilty Governess and the Downey Doctor, by G. M. Layton. Folly, May 8, 1876.
Guy Fawkes, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, Dec. 22, 1866.
Guy Fawkes, by Henry J. Byron. Gaiety, January 14, 1874. J. L. Toole, Brough, Nellie Farren.
Guy Mannering in a New Guise, by Robert Reece.
Half Crown Diamonds, by Robert Reece. Holborn, Sept. 27, 1875. G. Vincent, E. Atkins, J. H. Standing. New Version. Imperial Theatre, October 2, 1880.
Hamlet Travestie, in three acts, with annotations by Dr. Johnson and George Stevens, Esq., and other Commentators, by John Poole. London, 1810.
Hamlet Travestie, by F. Talfourd. Oxford, J. Vincent, 1849.
Hamlet the Hysterical, a Delusion in Five Spasms. Princess’s, November 30, 1874.
Hamlet â la Mode, an “absurdity,” by G. L. Gordon and G. W. Anson. Prince of Wales’s, Liverpool, Oct. 16, 1876, and Opera Comique, London, April 21, 1877.
Hamlet whether He Will or No, by George Booth. Alexandra Theatre, Sheffield, June 2, 1879.
Hamlet; or, Not such a Fool as he Looks. For Amateur Performance. Cambridge: W. Metcalfe & Son, 1882.
Hamlet Improved; or, Mr. Mendall’s attempt to ameliorate that Tragedy, by Colonel Colomb, R.A. (This piece was not designed to burlesque Shakespeare.)
Hamlet the Dainty, a Nigger drama.
Handsome Hernani; or, the Fatal Penny Whistle, by Henry J. Byron. Gaiety, August 30, 1879. E. W. Royce, E. Terry, Misses E. Farren and Kate Vaughan.
The Happy Land; a burlesque version of “The Wicked World,” by F. Tomline and Gilbert A. àBeckett. Court, March 3, 1873. W. Hill, Fisher, Righton, Miss Lottie Venn. This was prohibited by the Lord Chamberlain on March 7, 1873, on account of its political allusions, three of the principal characters having been “made up” to represent Messrs. W. E. Gladstone, R. Lowe and Ayrton; with certain alterations and omissions, the burlesque was again performed, but it had lost its savour. It was printed by J. W. Last & Co., Drury Lane.
Harlequin Jack Sheppard, or, the Blossom of Tyburn Tree; satirising the dramas manufactured from W. H. Ainsworth’s novels. Covent Garden Theatre, 1839.
The Haunted Glen, burl., by Harry Webber and Maidlow Davis. Royal Artillery T. Woolwich, April 27, 1888.
Here’s another Guy Mannering, by F. C. Burnand. Vaudeville, May 23, 1874.
Helen; or, taken from the Greek, by F. C. Burnand. Prince of Wales’, Liverpool, September, 30. 1867.
Hercules and Omphale, or, The Power of Love, a classical extrav., by William Brough. St. James’s, December, 26, 1864. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Matthews, H. J. Montague, Misses Herbert and C. Saunders.
Hermesianax, burlesque. Derby, July 9, 1869.
Herne the Hunter, panto-burl., by Robert Reece and W. Yardley. Gaiety, May 24, 1881.
Haiwatha; or, Ardent Spirits and Laughing Water, by Charles M. Walcot. Wallack’s Theatre. New York, December 25, 1856.
Hide and Seekyl, by George Grossmith. See “Real Case.”
Hit and Miss; or, All my Eye and Betty Martyn, by F. C. Burnand. Olympic, April 13, 1868.
Hit or Miss; or, the Last of the Barons, by Arthur Milton. Theatre Royal, Middlesborough, February 19, 1883.
How I found Crusoe; or, the Flight of Imagination, by Alfred Thompson. Olympic, December 28, 1870.
The Hunchback back again; or, Peculiar Julia, by F. C. Burnand. Olympic, Dec. 23, 1879.
Hypermnestra; or, the Girl of the Period, by Frank Sikes. Lyceum, March 27, 1869.
Idle ’Prentice, The; a Tyburnian Idyll of High, Low, Jack and His Little Game, by H. B. Farnie. Strand T., Sept., 10, 1870.
Ill-treated Il Trovatore; or, the Mother, the Maiden and the Musicianer, by Henry J. Byron. Adelphi, May 21, 1863. Paul Bedford, J. L. Toole, Miss C. Nelson.
Im-patience, travestie, by Walter Browne. Prince of Wales’s Theatre, Liverpool, August 25, 1884.
Ingomar, burlesque, by G. E. Jeffrey. T. R., Douglas, Isle of Man, September 2, 1868.
Ingomar the Idiotic; or, the Miser, the Maid, and the Mangle, by Messrs. Allan and Howard. Alfred Theatre, August 19, 1871.
Innocentinez; or, the Magic Pipe and the Fatal I.O.U., by H. Adams, King’s Cross, March 29, 1876.
Ino; or, the Theban Twins, by B. J. Spedding. Prince of Wales’s, Liverpool, August 30, 1869. Strand, London, October 30, 1869. David James and T. Thorne.
Ion, by F. Fox Cooper. Garrick, November 9, 1836.
Iphigeneia; or, the Sail, the Seer, and the Sacrifice, by E. Nolan. Performed at the Music Room, Oxford, by the St. John’s College Amateurs. Commemoration 1866. Oxford: T. & G. Shrimpton.
Isaac Abroad; or, Ivanhoe Settled and Rebecca Righted, by Thomas F. Plowman, T. R. Oxford, January 15, 1878.
Isaac of York; or, Saxons and Normans at Home, by T. F. Plowman. Court, Nov. 29, 1871. E. Righton, Misses Cornélie D’Anka and Kate Bishop.
Ivanhoe, by Henry J. Byron. Strand, December 26, 1862. H. J. Turner, J. Clarke, James Rogers, Misses C. Saunders, E. Bufton, Fanny Josephs.
Ivanhoe, the latest edition, by R. B. Brough. Haymarket, April 1, 1850.
Ixion; or, the Man at the Wheel, extrav. by F. C. Burnand. Royalty, Sept. 28, 1863.
337Jack; or, the Magic key. Queen’s Theatre, Dublin, April 14, 1879.
Jack, the Giant Killer, by H. J. Byron. Princess’s, December 26, 1859.
Jack and the Beanstalk, by Charles Millward. Adelphi, December 26, 1872.
Jack Robinson Crusoe; or, the Good Friday that came on Saturday, by J. W. Jones. Windsor T., Oct. 14, 1876.
Jane Shore; or, the Fearful Penance and the Fatal Penny Roll, by J. Wilton-Jones. Liverpool, August 16, 1880.
The Japs; or, the Doomed Daimio, Japanese burlesque, by Harry Paulton and Mostyn Tedde. Originally produced at Prince’s Theatre, Bristol, August 31, 1885, and at Novelty Theatre, London, September 19, 1885.
Joan of Arc, burlesque, by William Brough. Strand, March 29, 1869 David James, Thomas Thorne, H. J. Turner, Misses E. Bufton, Bella Goodall.
Joe Miller, and his Men, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Princess’s.
Julius See-saw; or, Dauntless Decius the Doubtful Decemvir, by Harry M. Pitt. Sheffield, March 29, 1869.
Kenilworth; or, Ye Queene, Ye Earle, and ye Maydenne, by Andrew Halliday and F. Lawrance. Strand, Dec. 27, 1858. J. Clarke, H. J. Turner, Misses M. Wilton, M. Oliver, C. Saunders and Swanborough. Reproduced, Strand, July 21, 1866.
Kenilworth, burlesque-extravaganza, by R. Reece and H. B. Farnie. Avenue, December 19, 1885.
King Arthur; or, the Days and Knights of the Round Table, by William Brough.
The King, the Ring, and the Giddy Young Thing; or, Herne the Hunter, Anne Boleyn, and the Fair Maid of the River Dee, by George Reeves. Elephant and Castle, April 8, 1882.
King’s Bounty; or, the Deserter, by R. E. Lonsdale.
King Coffee; or, the Princess of Ashantee. Southport Theatre, December 8, 1873.
King John Travestie, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. St. James’s, October 29, 1837.
King Kokatoo, by F. C. Burnand. Leeds, March 4, 1872.
King Lear Burlesque, by Mr. Marchant.
King Lear and his Daughters Queer, burl., by E. Elton.
King Richard ye Thirde, or ye Battel of Bosworth Field, by Charles Selby. Strand, February 26, 1844.
The Knight and the Sprite; or, the Cold Water Cure! an Aquatic Burl., by G. A. à Beckett and Mark Lemon. Strand, November 11, 1844.
King Zany’s Daughter; or, the Princess who was Blind of one Eye, and could not see out of the other. By W. H. Bosbacca.
The Knight of the Burning Pestle, by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher. London, 1611. This was a burlesque upon the tasteless affectations of the tales of chivalry, somewhat after the manner of “Don Quixote.”
La-Ba-Kan; or, the Prince’s Nap and the Snip’s Snap, by J. E. Roe. Swiss Gardens, Shoreham, June 7, 1869.
Lady Godiva; or, ye Ladye of Coventrie and ye Exyle Fayrie. Strand, July 7, 1851.
Lady Godiva burl., by Frederick Robson. T. R. Middlesbrough, May 5, 1873. Sadler’s Wells, Dec., 6, 1873.
Lady of the Lake, by Mortimer Thomson. Niblo’s Garden Theatre, New York, U.S., June 21, 1860.
The Lady of the Lake, burlesque, by R. Whateley Taylor. Royalty, April 21, 1862.
The Lady of the Lake, Plaid in a new Tartan, burl., of Sir Walter Scott, by R. Reece. Royalty, September 8, 1866, E. Danvers, Miss M. Oliver.
The Lady of the Lane, burl., by H. J. Byron. Strand, Oct., 31, 1872.
Lady of the Lions, burl., by O. F. Durivage. Baltimore T., United States, 1856.
The Lady of Lyons Burlesque, by M. Marchant.
The Lady of Lyons, burl., by Maurice G. Dowling.
The Lady of Lyons, burl., by W. Younge. Imperial T. April 23, 1879, Lionel Brough, C. Steyne, Miss L. Thompson.
Ye Lady of Lyons, by A. Lewis Clifton. Aquarium, Yarmouth, April 10, 1882.
The Lady of Lyons Married and Settled, by Herman C. Merivale. Gaiety, October 5, 1878. E. Terry, E. W. Royce, Squire, Elton, and Miss E. Farren.
The Lady of Lyons Married, and Claude Unsettled, absurdity, by R. Reece. Royalty, Glasgow, Sept. 27, 1884.
The Latest Edition of the Lady of Lyons, by Henry J. Byron. Strand, February 1, 1858.
Latest Edition of Kenilworth, by Andrew Halliday. Strand, Dec. 27, 1858.
Latest Edition of the Lady of the Lake, by R. Reece.
The Very Latest Edition of the Lady of Lyons, by H. J. Byron. Strand, July 11, 1859. J. Clarke, J. Rogers, H. J. Turner, Misses C. Saunders, and M. Oliver.
Lalla Rookh; or, the Princess, the Peri, and the Troubadour by William Brough. Lyceum, December 24, 1857. J. L. Toole, Mrs. Alfred Mellon, Mrs. C. Dillon.
Lalla Rookh, an Oriental extravaganza, by Vincent Amcotts. Masonic Hall, Oxford, Commemoration 1866, by the S. S. Amateurs. Oxford: T. Shrimpton & Son, 1866. Also performed at the “Gallery of Illustration,” London, June 19 and 20, 1868, by the “Shooting Stars.”
Lalla Rookh, burl., by Horace Lennard. Novelty Theatre, May 1, 1884. Harry Nicholls, Misses M. Mario, Kate Vaughan, and Dot Mario.
Lancelot the Lovely; or, the Idol of the King, by Richard Henry. Avenue, April, 1889. Arthur Roberts, E. D. Ward, Miss Vanoni.
The Lass that Loves a Sailor, or, the Perfidious Pirate, the Modest Maiden, and the Trusty Tar, by Lloyd Clarance. T. R., Great Grimsby, September 17, 1883.
The Last of the Barons, burlesque, by L. H. Du Terreaux. Strand, April 18, 1872.
The Latest Edition of the Rival Othellos, by Henry J. Byron. Strand, 1876. Edward Terry, Marius, H. J. Turner. (A burlesque upon Henry Irving and Salvini in their respective representations of Othello).
The Latest Yarn of the Crusoe Crew. Ashton Theatre, July 16, 1883.
Leah, a hearty joke in a Cab-age, by W. Routledge. Gallery of Illustrations, January 23, 1869.
Leah, burl. Southminster T., Edinburgh, June 15, 1868.
Leo the Terrible, Æsopian burl., by J. Stirling Coyne and Francis Talfourd. Haymarket, December 27, 1852.
Life in the Clouds; or, Olympus in an Uproar, by John Brougham. English Opera House, July 23, 1840.
The Light of the Isles, by Oswald Allan. Queen’s T. Dublin, August 21, 1876.
Linda of Chamouni; or, not Formosa, by Alfred Thompson. Gaiety, September 13, 1869.
Linda di Chamouni; or, the Blighted Flower, by Conway Edwardes. T. R. Bath, February 20, 1869.
The Lions’ Lady; or, How come you so? An anonymous burl. of “The Lady of Lyons.” London, C. Whiting. 1838.
Lion’s Tale, or the Naughty Boy who wagged it, by R. Reece. Globe.
Little Amy Robsart from a Comic Point of View. Prince of Wales’s, Liverpool, February 22, 1872.
Little Ben Bolt, by Edwin Keene. Gravesend T., June 24, 1879.
338 Little Ben Bolt, or the Meritorious Maiden and the Milli-cious Miller, by Edwin Keene. Colchester, August 2, 1880.
Little Billie Carlyle; or, the Bell and the Hare, burlesque of “East Lynne,” by W. J. Harbon. Prince of Wales’s, Wolverhampton, April 18, 1881.
Little Boy Blue, by F. J. Watts. Shoreham, May 17, 1875.
Little Carmen, burl., by Alfred Murray. Globe, February 7, 1884.
Little Cinderella, J. Wilton Jones. Newcastle Theatre, June 25, 1887.
Little Doctor Faust, the Gaiety, not the Goethe Version, by H. J. Byron. Gaiety, October 13, 1877. Edward Terry, R. Soutar, E. W. Royce, Miss E. Farren.
Little Don Cæsar de Bazan; or, Maritana and the Merry Monarch. By H. J. Byron. Gaiety, August 26, 1876. E. Terry, E. W. Royce, Misses E. Farren and Kate Vaughan. (Revived in 1878.)
Little Don Giovanni, or Leporello and the Stone Statue, by Henry J. Byron. Prince of Wales’s, December 26, 1865. J. Clarke, Miss Marie Wilton and Miss F. Josephs.
Little Don Quixote. T. R., Cheltenham, April 9, 1883.
Little Gil Blas, and How He Played the Spanish D(j)euce, by H. B. Farnie. Princess’s, December 24, 1870.
Little Giselle; or, the Sirens of the Lotus Lake, by Henry J. Byron. Olympic, July 22, 1871. G. Belmore, D. James and Miss E. Farren.
Little Jack Sheppard, by H. P. Stephens & W. Yardley. Gaiety, Dec. 26, 1885. David James, F. Leslie, Odell, Misses E. Farren, Harriet Coveney, Marion Hood.
Little Jack Carpenter. T. R., Liverpool, May 15, 1875.
Little Lalla Rookh, burl.-extrav., by J. T. Denny. Originally produced at Gaiety T., Hastings, August 31, 1885, and at Grand T., London, September 14, 1885.
Little Lohengrin; or, the Lover and the Bird, by Frederick Bowyer. Holborn T., August 16, 1884.
Little Red Riding Hood, burlesque, by C. H. Hazlewood.
Little Red Riding Hood, burlesque-extravaganza, by Leicester Buckingham. Lyceum, Dec. 26, 1861.
Little Robin Hood, or Quite a New Beau, by Robert Reece. Royalty, April 19, 1871.
Little Robin Hood, burlesque-drama, by R. Reece. Gaiety, Sept. 15, 1882. T. Squire, Arthur Williams, Robert Brough, J. Dallas, Misses E. Farren, P. Broughton.
Little Robinson Crusoe, by David James, Jun. Oxford Theatre, April 13, 1885.
Little Rip Van Winkle, by R. Reece. Gaiety.
Lord Bateman, or The Proud Young Porter and the Fair Sophia, by Henry J. Byron. Globe, Dec. 27, 1869.
Lord Bateman, by Charles Daly. Theatre Royal, Seaham Harbour, April 17, 1876.
Lord Lovel and Lady Nancy Bell; or, the Bounding Brigand of Bakumboilum, by F. C. Burnand. Written for the A. D. C. Cambridge. November 21, 1856.
Louis XI.; or, the Tricksey Monarch and the Wicksey Warrior, by Harry M. Pitt. T. R. West Hartlepool, July 9, 1869.
Love and Fortune, by J. R. Planché, Princess’s, Sept. 24, 1859. Frank Matthews, Misses Louise Keeley, and Carlotta Leclercq.
Love’s Paradise. Founded upon the legend of “Cupid and Psyche” in the metamorphoses of Apuleius, by F. G. Westmacott Chapman. Haymarket, April 6, 1874.
Loves of Lord Bateman and the Fair Sophia, burlesque by Charles Selby. Strand, July 1, 1839. The Performers were dressed in the costumes shown in George Cruikshank’s illustrations to the Ballad.
Lucrezia Borgia! At Home, and all Abroad, by Leicester Buckingham. St. James’s, April 9, 1860.
Lucrezia Borgia, by Sydney French. Marylebone T., July 20, 1867.
Lucrezia Borgia, M.D., or La Grande Doctresse, by Henry J. Byron. Holborn, October 28, 1868.
Lucy of Lammermoor, burlesque opera, by W. H. Oxberry. Strand, February, 1848.
Lucia di Lammermoor, or the Laird, the Lady, and the Lover, by Henry J. Byron. Prince of Wales’s, Sept. 25, 1865. Harry Cox, F. Dewar, J. Clarke, Misses Marie Wilton, and F. Josephs.
Lurline, or the Rhine and the Rhino, by C. H. Hazlewood.
Lurline, by R. Reece & H. B. Farnie. Avenue, April 24, 1886.
The Lying Dutchman, a Phantom Folly, by Hue and Eye. Strand. Harry Cox, Marius, Penley, Miss Lottie Venne.
The Lying Dutchman, by Frank W. Green and W. Swanborough. Strand, December 21, 1876.
Macbeth Travestie, by W. K. Northall. Olympic T., New York, October 16, 1843. Mitchell.
Macbeth Travestie. See “Rejected Addresses,” by James and Horace Smith.
Macbeth, somewhat removed from the Text of Shakespeare, by Francis Talfourd. First performed at Henley-on-Thames (Regatta), June 17, 1847; at the Strand, January 10, 1848; at Olympic, April 25, 1853. In the last instance F. Robson played Macbeth.
Macbeth Mystified, by W. H. Mason and J. E. Roe. Theatre Royal Brighton, May 3, 1869.
Madeira; or W(h)ines from the Wood, by Henry Adams. King’s Cross, October 25, 1875.
The Mad Mother and her Lost Son, burlesque of “Il Trovatore.” Theatre Royal, Scarborough, April 21, 1884.
The Magic Mirror, burlesque spectacle, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Princess’s, December 26, 1843.
The Magic Whisper Burlesque, by C. H. Hazlewood.
The Maid and the Magpie Travestie; or, the Fatal Spoon, by Henry J. Byron. Strand, October 11, 1858. J. Clarke, H. J. Turner, J. Bland, Misses Marie Wilton, M. Oliver and Hughes.
Man-Fred, burlesque by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Strand, December 26, 1834. Mitchell, Miss P. Horton.
The Marble Maiden; or, Zampa in Miniature, by G. M. Layton. Royalty, July 24, 1873.
The Marble Maiden, by J. H. Stocqueler. Lyceum, March 5, 1846. Alfred Wigan, Mr. and Mrs. Keeley.
The Marriage of Sir Gawaine; or, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. T. H. Lacy, 1861. Not acted.
Martha; or, the Fair Lady, and the Farmer of Richmond Fair, by Captain Arbuthnot. Plymouth, 1866.
Martha, burlesque, by Robert Reece. Gaiety, April 14, 1873.
Mary Turner, by F. C. Burnand. Holborn, Oct. 25, 1867.
Masaniello; or, the Fish’oman of Naples, by Robert B. Brough. Olympic, July 2, 1857. F. Robson, Miss Hughes.
Masse-en-Yell-Oh, a riotous, socialistic travestie, by Harry Paulton and “Mostyn Tedde.” Comedy, March 23, 1886.
Mazeppa, an equestrian burlesque, by C. White. N. York.
Mazeppa, by Henry J. Byron. Olympic, December 27, 1858. F. Robson, H. Wigan, Miss Wyndham.
Mazeppa; or, “Bound” to Win, a Ride-diculous One-horse burlesque, in Three Hacks, by F. C. Burnand. Gaiety, March 12, 1885. E. Royce, E. Terry, Misses E. Farren, and P. Broughton.
Mazourka; or, the Stick, the Pole, and the Tartar, burl.-extravaganza, by H. J. Byron. Strand, April 27, 1864.
Medea; or, the Best of Mothers, by R. B. Brough. Olympic, July 14, 1856. F. Robson, Emery, and Miss J. St. George.
Mephisto, travestie, by Byron M’Guiness. Royalty, June 14, 1886.
339 Merchant of Venice travestie, by F. Talfourd. Oxford, 1849.
Merry Mignon; or, the Beauty and the Bard, operatic-burlesque, by J. Wilton Jones. Court Theatre, Liverpool, April 26, 1882.
The Merry Zingara; or, the Tipsy Gipsy, and the Pipsy Wipsy, a whimsical parody on the “Bohemian Girl,” by W. S. Gilbert. Royalty, March 31, 1868. F. Dewar, Danvers, Misses M. Oliver, and C. Saunders. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
Metamora; or, the Last of the Pollywogs, by John Brougham. Adelphi, Boston, U.S., November 29, 1847. Mr. and Mrs. John Brougham.
Midas, by Kane O’Hara. Crow Street Theatre, Dublin, 1762. Covent Garden, London, February 22, 1764.
The Midnight Spectre,!!! or, the Fatal Secret, a Richardsonian melo-drama, by Nelson Lee, Junior. Crystal Palace (R.D.C.), July 21, 1861.
The Miller of Mansfield, burl. London. E. West, 1851.
The Miller and his Men, a burlesque mealy-drama, by Francis Talfourd and Henry J. Byron. Strand, April 9, 1860. J. Clarke, J. Rogers, Miss Marie Wilton.
The Military Billy Taylor; or, the War in Cariboo, by F. C. Burnand. Royalty, April 22, 1869. F. Dewar, Danvers, Misses C. Saunders and M. Oliver.
Mind the Shop, comedy-burlesque, by Robert Reece and Edward Righton. Globe, April 22, 1878.
Miss Eily O’Connor, a burlesque of “The Colleen Bawn,” by Henry J. Byron. Drury Lane, November 25, 1861. Tom Matthews, and Miss L. Keeley.
Miss Esmeralda, by “A. C. Torr.” (Fred J. Leslie) and Horace Mills. Gaiety, October 8, 1887.
Miss Merrick, burlesque-drama, by G. S. Brodie.
Mr. Robert Roy, Hielan Helen, his Wife, and Dougal the Dodger, by William Lowe. Pavilion, Glasgow, December 11, 1880.
The Mistletoe Bough, by H. B. Farnie. Adelphi, December 26, 1870.
Monte Christo Jun., burlesque-melodrama, by “Richard Henry.” Gaiety, December 23, 1886. G. Honey, F. Leslie, and Miss E. Farren.
The Motto, I am “all there,” by H. J. Byron. Strand, July 16, 1863.
Moths à la Mode, by F. Hugh Herbert. Princess’s Theatre, Edinburgh, March 5, 1883.
Moths Quitos; or, Ouida’s Moths, by D. W. Edgar. Theatre Royal, Middlesborough, April 21, 1882.
Mountain Dhu; or, the Knight! the Lady! and the Lake! by Andrew Halliday. Adelphi, Dec. 26, 1866. J. L. Toole, Paul Bedford, Mrs. A. Mellon, Miss Furtado.
Much Ado about a Merchant of Venice. From the Original Text—a Long Way. By John Brougham. New York, 1868.
My-fisto, burlesque-extravaganza, by Vere Montague and Frank St. Clare. T. R., Colchester, Jan. 24, 1887.
Mysseltoe Bough Burlesque, by Mr. Marchant.
Nero, a Romantick Fiddler, by T. H. Bayley. English Opera House, August, 1833.
The New Corsican Brothers, by Cecil Raleigh. Royalty, November 20, 1889. Arthur Roberts.
A New Edition of the Corsican Brothers; or, the Kompact, the Kick, and the Kombat, by W. H. Mason. Theatre Royal, Brighton, July 18, 1870.
New Don Juan, by J. B. Buckstone. Adelphi, 1828.
The New King Richard the Third, by C. H. Hazlewood. Britannia, April 1, 1878.
Nobody’s Cheild, by H. T. Arden. Cremorne, August 10, 1868, and Surrey, October 8, 1870.
Noodledom, by Edwin Marshall. Lecture Hall, Walworth, January 10, 1877.
Norma, burlesque, by J. H. Draper. Royal Hall, Jersey, March 5, 1875.
Norma Travestie, burlesque-burletta, by W. H. Oxberry. Adelphi, December 6, 1841. Paul Bedford and Wright.
The Norman Invasion, burlesque, by J. M. Killick. Saint George’s Hall, October 26, 1870.
No Thorough-fair beyond Highbury; or, the Maid, the Mother, and the Malicious Mountaineer, by Mr. Hazlewood, Junior. Alexandra, April 13, 1868.
No Thoroughfare, burl., by George Grossmith. Victoria, March 22, 1869.
Nottingham Castle, burl., by F. R. Goodyer. Nottingham Theatre, September 22, 1873.
Novelty Fair, a review, by Albert Smith. Lyceum, May 21, 1850. C. Mathews, F. Matthews, Julia St. George.
The Nymph of the Lurleyburg; or, the Knight and the Naiads, by Henry James Byron. New Adelphi, Dec. 26, 1859. Founded on the Legend of “Lurline.” J. L. Toole, Paul Bedford, & Miss Woolgar.
O Gemini! or, the Brothers of Co(u)rse, by Gilbert A. à Beckett and Mark Lemon. Haymarket, April 12, 1852. J. B. Buckstone.
The O’Dora: or, a Wrong Accent, travestie of Sardou’s “Theodora,” by F. C. Burnand. Toole’s, July 13, 1885.
Oh! Aida, or a Game at Pyramids.
Oh! Those Babes; or, the Unhappy Uncle, the Virtuous Villains, and the Cheeky Children, by Will Clements. T. R., Woolwich, June 18, 1888.
O’ Jupiter; or the Fiddler’s Wife, by Frank Hall. Philharmonic, October 2, 1880.
Old Carlisle Bridge; or, the Shame of the City, a burl. Dublin Street drama, by William Scribble. Queen’s Theatre, Dublin, 1862.
Old Izaak Walton; or, Tom Moore of Fleet Street, the Silver Trout, and the Seven Sisters of Tottenham. Panto-opening, by T. L. Greenwood. Sadler’s Wells, December, 1858.
Old Pals, burlesque, by Lloyd Clarance. South Shields Theatre, August 7, 1884.
Oliver Grumble, by George Dance. Prince of Wales’s T., Liverpool, March 15, 1886. Novelty T., London, March 25, 1886.
Olympic Games; or, the Major, the Miner, and the Cock-a-doodle-doo, by F. C. Burnand. Olympic, April 22, 1867. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, W.
Olympic Devils; or, Orpheus and Eurydice. A mythological burlesque, by J. R. Planché. Olympic, Dec. 26, 1831. J. Bland, W. Vining, Madame Vestris.
Olympic Revels; or, Prometheus and Pandora, by J. R. Planché. Olympic, January 3, 1831. J. Cooper, Beckwith and Madame Vestris.
On the Rink; or, the Girl He left Behind Him, by F. C. Burnand. Duke’s Theatre, February 26, 1876.
Open Sesame! or a Night with the Forty Thieves.
The Orange Tree and the Humble Bee; or, the Little Princess who was Lost at Sea, burlesque by Henry J. Byron. Vaudeville, May 13, 1871.
Orlando ye Brave, and ye Fayre Rosalynde; or, “As you Lump it.” A Comycke Pastorale, by Master William Shakesydes. London, no date.
Orpheus and Eurydice; or, the Young Gentleman who charmed the Rocks, by Henry J. Byron. Strand, Dec. 26, 1863. D. James, George Honey, Marie Wilton.
Orpheus; or, the Magic Lyre, by F. C. Burnand. For Amateurs. London, S. O. Beeton, 1865.
Orpheus in the Haymarket, by J. R. Planché. Haymarket, December 26, 1865.
Othello Travestie, burlesque-burletta, by Maurice G. Dowling. Liverpool Theatre, Liverpool, March, 1834.
340 The Other Little Lord Fondleboy, travestie, by Frederick Bowyer. Avenue, June 18, 1888.
Our Cinderella, by R. Reece. Gaiety, Sept. 8, 1883.
Our Helen, burlesque, adapted from “La Belle Helène,” by Robert Reece. Gaiety, April 8, 1884.
Our Own Antony and Cleopatra, “an absurdity,” by F. C. Burnand. Gaiety, September 8, 1873.
Our Traviata, burlesque, by W. F. Vandervell. Surrey Theatre, September 14, 1857.
Our War Correspondent, burl., Leicester T., May 27, 1878.
Out of the Ranks, burlesque, by Robert Reece. Strand, June 3, 1884.
Oxygen; or, Gas in Burlesque Metre, by R. Reece and H. B. Farnie. Folly, March 31, 1877.
Paddy in the Moon Burlesque, by C. H. Hazlewood.
Pan; or, the Loves of Echo and Narcissus, by H. J. Byron.
Pandora’s Box, by H. J. Byron. Prince of Wales’s, December 26, 1866.
The Paphian Bower; or, Venus and Adonis. A mythological burlesque, by J. R. Planché. Olympic, Dec. 26, 1832. Benjamin Webster, W. Vining, J. Bland, Madame Vestris.
Papillonetta, by W. Brough. Prince of Wales’s Theatre, Liverpool, December 26, 1865.
Paris; or, Vive Lemprière, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, April 2, 1886. David James, Thomas Thorne, H. J. Turner, J. D. Stoyle.
Patient Penelope; or, the Return of Ulysses, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, November 25, 1863.
Paul and Virginia, burlesque, by Arthur Wood. Olympic, October 15, 1870.
Paul Clifford Burlesque, by C. H. Hazlewood.
Paw Clawdian, or, the Roman Awry, a travestie of “Claudian,” by F. C. Burnand. Toole’s, February 14, 1884. J. L. Toole, W. Cheesman, Miss Marie Linden.
The Peddler of Very Nice, a burlesque of the Trial Scene in “The Merchant of Venice.” Anonymous. Boston, U.S., Lee and Shepard, 1866.
Pentheus, an Echo of the Greek Drama, by Vincent Amcotts and W. R. Anson. Oxford, T. and G. Shrimpton, 1866.
The People’s William; or, Randy the (W) Reckless and the Grand Old Man all at Sea. Birkenhead T., May 12, 1884.
Perdita; or, the Royal Milkmaid, by W. Brough. Lyceum, September 15, 1856.
Perola; or, the Jewel and the Duel. Rotherham Theatre, March 19, 1883.
Perseus and Andromeda, burlesque, by William Brough.
Peter Wilkins, an extravagant extrav, by Gilbert A. à Beckett and Mark Lemon. Adelphi, April 13, 1846.
Peter Wilkins. Panto-opening, by E. L. Blanchard. Drury Lane, December, 1860.
Phæton; or, Pride must have a Fall, by William Brough. For Amateurs. London: S. O. Beeton, 1865.
Pickwick, dramatic Cantata, by F. C. Burnand. Comedy, February, 1889. Arthur Cecil, Rutland Barrington, Miss Lottie Venne.
Pietro Wilkini; or, the Castaways, the Wild Men, and the Winged Beauty, burlesque, by F. Eyles, Jun. Swiss Gardens, Shoreham, August 18, 1870.
Pirithous, the Son of Ixion, burl., by F. C. Burnand.
Pizarro; a Spanish Rolla-King Peruvian Drama, by C. J. Collins. Drury Lane, September 22, 1856. Mr. and Mrs. Keeley, Mrs. Frank Matthews, George Honey.
Pizarro; or, the Leotard of Peru, by Leicester Buckingham. Strand, 1862. James Rogers, J. Clarke, Misses Eleanor Bufton, and C. Saunders.
Pizarro, the Great Tyrant, burlesque, by Mr. Marchant.
Plucky Parthenia, by Robert Reece. Portsmouth, February 26, 1874.
Pluto and Proserpine; or, the Belle, and the Pomegranate, by F. Talfourd. Haymarket, April 5, 1858. Compton, Clark, Braid, Miss L. Leclercq.
Pluto; or, Little Orpheus and His Lute, by H. J. Byron. Royalty, December 26, 1881. W. J. Hill, C. Glenney, Miss Lydia Thompson.
Po-ca-hon-tas; or, the Gentle Savage, burlesque, by John Brougham. Wallack’s Theatre, New York, U.S.
Poll and Partner Joe; or, the Pride of Putney, and the Pressing Pirate, by F. C. Burnand. St. James’s, May 6, 1871. Lionel Brough, H. Cox, Mrs. John Wood.
The Pretty Druidess; or, the Mother, the Maid, and the Miseltoe Bough (founded on “Norma”), by W. S. Gilbert. Charing Cross, June 19, 1869. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
Pretty Esmeralda and Captain Phœbus of Ours, by Henry J. Byron. Gaiety, April 2, 1879. E. Royce, Edward Terry, Misses E. Farren, C. Gilchrist, and Kate Vaughan.
Pretty Miss Pippin, by Percy Vere (Amateur).
Prince Cherry, and Princess Fair Star, by E. J. Collins. Strand, July 11, 1855.
Prince Love; or, the Fays of the Forest, by F. Vandervell. Philharmonic Theatre, December 26, 1870.
Prince Sohobazar; or, Eighteen-carat Soup, burlesque-extrav., by E. W. Bowles. Kilburn Town Hall, London, December 11, 1885.
The Princess, by W. S. Gilbert. Olympic, January 8, 1870.
Princess Ida; or, Castle Adamant. Respectful perversion of Tennyson’s “Princess,” by W. S. Gilbert. Savoy T., January 5, 1884. R. Barrington, G. Grossmith, Misses Braham and Brandram.
Princess Ouida; or, Castle Adamandeve, by H. G. F. Taylor. London: A. Hays, 1886.
Princess Primrose, by Messrs. Bellingham and Best. Olympic, June 13, 1866.
Printer’s Devil, burlesque extrav. Anonymous.
Prometheus; or, The Man on the Rock, by R. Reece.
The Proscribed Royalist; or, Who Stole the Ducks, by Frank Seymour. Opera House, Leicester, August 1, 1881.
Prospero; or, the King of the Caliban Islands. Imperial Theatre, December 26, 1883.
Pygmalion; or, the Statue Fair, by William Brough. Strand, April 20, 1867.
Puss in a new pair of Boots, by H. J. Byron. Strand, 1862.
Quasimodo, the Deformed; or, the Man with the Hump, and the Belle of Notre Dame, by H. Spry. Grecian, April 18, 1870.
Queen of Hearts, burlesque. Sanger’s Amphitheatre, Ramsgate, July 14, 1884.
The Quizziology of the British Drama, comprising stage passions, stage characters, and stage plays, by Gilbert Abbott à Beckett. London, Punch Office, 1846. With this is usually found Scenes from the Rejected Comedies. See “Scenes.”
Randolph the Reckless, extravaganza, by Victor Stevens. Salford T., August 6, 1888.
Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia, burlesque, by W. Brough. Haymarket, December 26, 1862. Chippendale, Tilbury, Compton, Louise Keeley.
Le Raw Carotte, by G. Thorne. Margate T., Sept. 19, 1873
Raymond and Agnes Burlesque, by Mr. Marchant.
The Real Case of Hide and Seekyll, by George Grossmith. Royalty, September 3, 1888. In this Mr. Lionel Brough cleverly imitated both Mr. Mansfield & Mr. Bandmann.
The Red Rover; or, I believe you my Buoy, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, Dec. 26, 1887. Marius, Cox, Miss Lottie Venne.
341 The Rehearsal, as it was acted at the Theatre Royal, London, printed for Thomas Dring, 1672, by George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. This celebrated work burlesques passages in the plays of Mrs. A. Behn, J. Dryden, Sir W. Davenant, Killigrew, and others. The history of The Rehearsal, with notes, and parallel passages has been ably written by Mr. Edward Arber in his series of valuable English Reprints. It was first acted on December 7, 1671.
The Rehearsal, an Absurdity, by Harry Dacre.
Revolt of the Workhouse, burlesque-opera, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Fitzroy Theatre, February 24, 1834.
Richard III., travestie, by J. Stirling Coyne. Adelphi, February 12, 1844. Wright, Honey, and Miss Woolgar.
Richard ye Third, by Charles Selby. Strand, Feb. 26, 1844.
Richelieu Redressed, by R. Reece. Olympic, Oct. 27, 1873.
Rienzi Reinstated; or, the Last of the Cobbler, by W. A. Allan. Globe, December 21, 1874.
The Right-Fall Heir; or, the Sea-Rover and the Fall over. By H. T. Arden, 1868.
The Right-Fellow; or, the Wrong-Fellow and the Felo d’ye see? By W. F. Marshall, R. N. School, New Cross, December 21, 1868.
Rip Van Winkle; or, Some Nambulistic Knickerbockers, by John Strachan and Henry Davis. Newcastle Theatre, April 2, 1866.
Rip Van Winkle; or, a Little Game of Nap, by F. Savile Clarke. Portsmouth Theatre, March 29, 1880.
Riquet with the Tuft, burlesque-extrav., by J. R. Planché. Olympic, Dec. 26, 1836. Charles Mathews, J. Bland, Madame Vestris, Miss R. Isaacs, Mrs. Anderson.
The Rise and Fall of Richard III.; or, a New Front to an old Dicky, a Richardsonian burlesque, by F. C. Burnand. Royalty, September 24, 1868. Dewar, Misses C. Saunders, Nellie Bromley and M. Oliver.
Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
The Rival Rascals; or, Virtue Rewarded, and Vice Versa, by Alfred Greenland, Jun. St. George’s May 3, 1877.
The Rival Sergeants, burletta, by William Collier. Sadler’s Wells, April 5, 1847.
Robert the Devil; or, the Nun, the Dun, and the Son of a Gun, by W. S. Gilbert. Gaiety, Dec. 21, 1868. J. G. Taylor, R. Soutar, Miss E. Farren. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
Robert Macaire; or, the Roadside Inn Turned Inside Out, by Henry J. Byron. Globe, April 16, 1870. J. Clarke, and Fanny Josephs.
Robert Macaire Renovated, by Lloyd Clarance. Barnsley Theatre, March 3, 1884.
Robert Make-Airs; or, the Two Fugitives. Ethiopian burlesque, by E. Warden. New York, 1856.
Robin Hood, burl. spectacle, by Messrs. Stocqueler, Shirley Brooks, and Charles Kenny. Lyceum, May 4, 1846.
Robin Hood. Panto-opening by E. L. Blanchard. Drury Lane, December, 1858.
Robin Hood; or, the Forester’s Fate, by F. C. Burnand. Olympic, December 26, 1862.
Robin Hood, Burlesque, by William Brough. For amateurs. London: S. O. Beeton, 1865.
Robin Hood, and the Merrie Men of Sherwood Forest, by George Thorne and F. Grove Palmer, Margate, 1889.
Robin Hood Burlesque, by C. H. Hazlewood.
Robinson Crusoe; or, Harlequin Friday and the King of the Caribbee Islands, by Henry J. Byron. Princess’s December 26, 1860.
Robinson Crusoe, burl., by H. J. Byron, Gilbert, Hood, Leigh, Sketchley, & Prowse. Haymarket, July 6, 1867.
Robinson Crusoe; burl., by H. B. Farnie. Prince’s, Manchester, October 7, 1876, Folly (London,) Nov. 11, 1876.
Robinson Crusoe Revived, by E. C. Bertrand. Dumfries Theatre, February 5, 1877.
Robinson Crusoe; or, the Pirate Will, Pretty Poll, and Captain Bill. Todmorden Theatre, October 29, 1883.
Robinson Crusoe, burl.-pantomime, by R. Reece and H. B. Farnie. Avenue, December 23, 1886. Arthur Roberts, Miss P. Broughton.
Rob Roy, burlesque, by Sydney French. Marylebone T., June 29, 1867.
Robbing Roy; or, Scotched and Kilt, by F. C. Burnand. Gaiety, November 11, 1879. Edward Terry, E. W. Royce, T. Squire, Misses E. Farren, Kate Vaughan, and C. Gilchrist.
Rob Roy, his Great Wife and Small Family. By C. H. Hazlewood.
Romeo and Juliet, “as the Law Directs,” by Maurice G. Dowling. Strand, May 1, 1837.
Romeo and Juliet Travestie; or, The Cup of Cold Pison, by Andrew Halliday. Strand, November 3, 1859. H. J. Turner, Rogers, Clarke, Misses Marie Wilton, C. Saunders.
Romeo and Juliet; or, the Shaming of the True, an atrocious outrage, by E. Nolan. Perpetrated at Oxford, by the St. John’s College Amateurs, during Commemoration, 1868. T. Shrimpton, Oxford.
Romeo the Radical, and Juliet the Jingo; or, Obstruction and Effect, by C. P. Emery. Alexandra Theatre, Walsall, August 14, 1882.
Romulus and Remus; or, Rome was not Built in a Day, a most absurdly ridiculous burlesque in one Act, being an attempt at something founded on Roman history, by T. F. Dillon Croker. Privately printed, 1859.
Romulus and Remus; or, the Two Rum-’uns, by R. Reece, Vaudeville, Dec. 23, 1872. James, Thorne, Nelly Power.
The Roof Scrambler, burlesque opera, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Victoria, June 15, 1835.
The Rosebud of Stingingnettle Farm; or, the Villainous Squire and the Virtuous Villager. A burl.-drama by H. J. Byron. R.D.C. Crystal Palace, 1862.
Round the World in W’Eighty Days, by Captain Fitz-George, Brighton Theatre, March 13, 1877.
The Rovers; or, the Double Arrangement, by George Canning, George Ellis, and John Hookham Frere. This originally appeared in “The Anti-Jacobin,” about 1798. It is a caricature of the sentimental German drama then fashionable.
The Rows of Castille, by Conway Edwardes. Brighton Theatre, March 4, 1872.
The Royal Riddle, burlesque, by Horace Mills. Woolwich Theatre (Amateurs), February 16, 1887.
Ruddy George; or, Robin Red Breast, a musical parody, by H. G. F. Taylor, and Percy Reeve. Toole’s T., March 19, 1887.
Rumfastian Innamorato, burlesque interlude. Oxberry, Harley, Knight.
Rumplestiltskin; or, the Woman at the Wheel, by F. C. Burnand.
Rumpelstiltskin! An extrav. for amateurs by M. W. Hallett
Ruy Blas Righted, by Robert Reece. Vaudeville. Jan. 3, 1874. D. James, T. Thorne, and Kate Bishop.
Ruy Blas and the Blasé Roué, by A. C. Torr & H. Clark. First performed in Birmingham, Sept. 2, 1889. Gaiety, London, Sept. 21, 1889. Fred Leslie, C. Danby, F. Storey, Miss E. Farren. In this burlesque Mr. Leslie’s caricature of Mr. Henry Irving’s appearance and mannerisms was so pronounced that the Lord Chamberlain insisted on the part being considerably modified.
St. George and the Dragon, by Gilbert A. à Beckett and Mark Lemon. Adelphi, March 24, 1845.
342 St. George and the Dragon, burlesque, by F. C. Burnand. Written for the A.D.C., Cambridge, and first performed Feb. 21, 1856, when the author played the “Dragon.”
St. George and the Dragon, panto-opening by E. L. Blanchard. Alexandra Palace, Dec. 1877.
St. George and the Dragon, burl. Torquay T. Aug. 6, 1883.
Salammbo, the Lovely Queen of Carthage. Holborn, May 6, 1871.
Salthello Ovini. Illegitimate tragedy. Haymarket, July 26, 1875.
Sappho; or, Look before you Leap! by F. C. Burnand. For amateurs. London, S. O. Beeton, 1865.
Sardanapalus; or, the “fast” King of Assyria, by Gilbert A. à Beckett and Mark Lemon. Adelphi, July 20, 1853.
Sardanapalus; or, the Light of Other Days, by H. Such Granville. St. George’s Hall, December 23, 1868.
Sardanapalus, burl., by H. Such Granville. Limerick Theatre, May 15, 1868.
The Scalded Back; or, Comin’ Scars, travestie of Hugh Conway and Comyns Carr’s “Called Back,” by W. Yardley. Novelty Theatre, July 12, 1884.
Scenes from the Rejected Comedies, by some of the competitors for the Prize of £500 offered by Mr. B. Webster, Lessee of the Haymarket Theatre, for the best original Comedy, illustrative of English Manners. These amusing scenes were written by Gilbert A. à Beckett, and parody passages of the plays of J. Sheridan Knowles, Douglas Jerrold, Serjeant Talfourd, J. R. Planché, E. Fitzball, Leigh Hunt, Mark Lemon, Sir E. B. Lytton, and of G. A. à Beckett himself. London, Punch office, 1844.
Seraphina the Fair, by Charles W. Laidlaw. Public Hall, Southend, December 26, 1874.
The Seven Champions of Christendom; or, Good Little St. George and the Naughty Snap dragon, by W. R. Osman. Alexandra T., August 22, 1870.
Shin Fain; or, Ourselves Alone, by Tom Telephone. Dublin. J. Duffy and Sons, 1882.
The Siege of Seringapatam; or, the Maiden of Mesopotamia, by F. C. Burnand. For the Fête in aid of the Funds of the Hospital for Incurables, 1863.
The Siege of Troy, burl., by Robert B. Brough. Lyceum, Dec. 27, 1858. J Rogers, Mrs. Keeley, Miss J. St. George.
Shylock; or, the Merchant of Venice Preserved, by F. Talfourd. Olympic, July 4, 1853. F. Robson.
Silver Guilt, burl., by W. Warham. Strand, June 9, 1883.
Sinbad; or, the Dry-land Sailor, by James Horner. Coventry Theatre, July 7, 1884.
Sinbad the Sailor; or, the “Tar” that was “Pitched” into, by Frank W. Green. Princess’s, Edinburgh, March 31, 1878.
Sindbad the Sailor, by E. L. Blanchard. Crystal Palace, Dec., 1876.
Sir George and a Dragon; or, We are Seven, burlesque, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, March 31, 1870.
Sir Marigold the Dottie; or, the Moonlight Knight, by C. F. Fuller, H.M.S. “Rainbow,” April 16, 1885.
Sir Rupert the Fearless, burl. extrav., by A. J. Seymour. Strand, April 24, 1848.
The Sleeping Beauty; Her Seven Fairy Godmothers, and a Wicked Fairy, by Charles Daly and B. Chatterton. Aldershot T., August 3, 1885.
Snow Bound, a dramatic entertainment, by George M. Baker. Contains an original burlesque on “Alonzo the Brave, and the Fair Imogene.” Boston, U.S.
Snowdrop, burlesque extravaganza, by F. C. Burnand. Royalty, November 21, 1864.
The Son of the Sun; or, the Fate of Phæton. A classical burl., by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Fitzroy T. Feb. 13, 1834.
La Sonnambula Burlesque, by C. H. Hazlewood.
The Somnambulist, a negro burlesque sketch, by H. Dacre.
La! Sonnambula! or, the Supper, the Sleeper, and the Merry Swiss Boy, by Henry J. Byron. Prince of Wales’s, April 15, 1865, the opening night of Miss Marie Wilton’s management. F. Dewar, Harry Cox, J. Clarke, Misses Marie Wilton, and Fanny Josephs.
Il Sonnambulo and Lively Little Alessio, by Henry J. Byron. Gaiety, April 6, 1878. E. Terry, E. W. Royce, W. Elton, Miss E. Farren.
The Spanish Dancers; or, Fans and Fandangoes, a Terpsichorean burl., by Charles Selby. St. James’s Oct. 18, 1854. J. L. Toole, Clarke, Misses Lydia Thompson, and E. Bufton.
The Spectre of Shooter’s Hill; or, the Broken Hot-cross Bun, by W. Sallenger. Woolwich Theatre, Oct. 20, 1888.
The Sphinx, by the Brothers Brough. Haymarket, April 9, 1849. Mr. and Mrs. Keeley, J. Bland, and Miss P. Horton.
The Sphinx; a Touch from the Ancients (a new version of the Brothers Brough’s burlesque), by Walter Boult, Prince of Wales’s, Liverpool, January 6, 1872.
The Squires Maria; or, Too, too Far from the Madding Crowd, by Harry Adams. Hanley T., July 17, 1882.
Stage-Dora; or, Who Killed Cock Robin? travestie of Sardou’s Fédora, by F. C. Burnand. Toole’s, May 26, 1883. J. L. Toole, E. D. Ward, W. Cheesman, Miss Marie Linden.
Stars and Garters, burlesque, by Robert Reece and H. B. Farnie. Folly, September 21, 1878.
The Statue Bride; an Echo of the Greek Drama, by Vincent Amcotts and W. R. Anson, Oxford.
Stranger, burlesque, by W. D. Ward (for Amateurs), 1859.
Stranger, stranger than ever; by R. Reece. Queen’s, November 4, 1868.
The Stranger Travestie. See “Rejected Addresses,” by James and Horace Smith.
Success; or, a Hit if you Like it, a Grand mock-heroical burletta, by J. R. Planché. Adelphi, Dec. 12, 1825. T. P. Cooke, Yates, Mrs. Fitzwilliam.
Such a Guy Mannering, by Mr. Strachan, Jun. Newcastle-on-Tyne Theatre, April 27, 1868.
The Tailors (or “Quadrupeds”), a Tragedy for Warm Weather, by Samuel Foote. Haymarket, 1767. This burlesque was revived at the Haymarket in 1805, on which occasion a number of London tailors created a disturbance in and around the theatre.
A Tale of Tell; or, the Pole, the Patriot, and the Pippin, by Lloyd Clarance. Darwen T., February 26, 1883.
The Talisman, burl., by J. F. M’Ardle. Liverpool T., Aug. 10, 1874, and Philharmonic, London, Mar. 29, 1875.
Taming a Tartar, burlesque, by Charles Selby. Adelphi, October 20, 1845.
Tam O’Shanter, burlesque, by W. Lowe, Opera House, Dundee, February 10, 1873.
Tantalus; or, Many a Slip ’Twixt Cup and Lip, by Arthur Matthison and Charles Wyndham. Folly, Oct. 14, 1878.
Telemachus; or, the Island of Calypso, by J. R. Planché. Olympic, December 26, 1834. J. Bland, Wyman, Madame Vestris.
Telemachus; or, the Island of Calypso, by Stirling Coyne. Adelphi, October 15, 1844.
The Tempest, the very last edition of, by A. H. O.
The O’Dora, a parody of Sardou’s Théodora, by F. C. Burnand. Toole’s July 13, 1885. J. L. Toole and Miss Mary Linden, whose imitation of Sara Bernhardt was particularly clever and comical.
Theseus and Ariadne; or, the Marriage of Bacchus. A classical extrav., by J. R. Planché. Lyceum, April 24, 1848. C. Mathews, Miss Fitzwilliam, Mdme. Vestris.
343 Thespis, burlesque, by W. S. Gilbert. Gaiety, J. L. Toole, Miss E. Farren.
The Three Calenders, burl., by Charles Penruddocke.
Three Graces, by G. A. à Beckett. Princess’s April 17, 1843.
The Three Musket Dears, and a Little One In, by Joseph and Harry Paulton. Strand, October 5, 1871.
Timour, the Cream of all the Tartars. Princess’s, March 24, 1845.
Timour the Tartar; or the Iron Master of Samarkand-by-Oxus, by John Oxenford and Shirley Brooks. Olympic, December 26, 1860. F. Robson, Horace Wigan.
Timour the Tartar; or, the Swell Belle of the Period, by Edward Chamberlaine. Alexandra, Dec. 27, 1869.
Tom Thumb, by Kane O’Hara. Founded on Henry Fielding’s Tragedy of Tragedies; or, the Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great, first performed at the Haymarket in 1730. O’Hara’s adaptation was produced at the Covent Garden Theatre in 1780.
Too Late for the Train, a dramatic entertainment, containing burl. scenes. G. M. Baker & Co., Boston, U.S.
Too Lovely Black-eyed Susan, perversion of Douglas Jerrold’s drama, by Horace Lennard. Crystal Palace, April 2, 1888, and Strand Theatre, April 11, 1888. Dan Leno and Miss Fannie Leslie.
Tootsie’s Lovers, by W. T. Le Queux. Brentford Theatre, April 19, 1886.
Touch and Go, burlesque, by Walter Andrews. Prince of Wales’s Theatre, Liverpool, March 8, 1886.
The Tragedy of Tragedies; or, the Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great, by Henry Fielding. First acted in 1730. This contains parodies of numerous passages in the Tragedies of Dryden, N. Rowe, Thompson, and other writers whose works were then popular.
Trovatore; or, Larks with a Libretto, by Henry J. Byron. Olympic, April 26, 1880. E. Terry, E. W. Royce, Misses E. Farren, C. Gilchrist, and Kate Vaughan.
Troy Again, by E. A. Bowles (Amateurs). St. George’s Hall, March 13, 1888.
Tumble-down Dick; or, Phæton in the Suds, a Dramatic Entertainment of Walking, in Serious and Foolish Characters. Interlarded with Burlesque, Grotesque, Comic Interludes, as it is performed at the New Theatre in the Hay-Market. By Henry Fielding. 1737.
Turkish Waters, a Tail of Coarse Hair; or, Medora’s Private Tear, by Rowley Hill. Written for the A.D.C., Cambridge, and first performed November 18, 1857.
“Two” Much Alike, burlesque comedietta, by G. Grossmith, Jun., and A. R. Rogers. Gallery of Illustration, February 12, 1870.
Two Gallows; or, Slaves Escaped from Brixton, a Parody. Olympic, 1823.
Ulf the Minstrel; or, the Player, the Princess, and the Prophecy, burlesque-extravaganza, by R. Reece. Royalty, May 31, 1866.
Ulysses; or, the Iron Clad Warrior, and the Little Tug of War, by F. C. Burnand. St. James’s, April 17, 1865.
Under Proof; or, Very Much Above Pa, by Edward Rose, Princess’s, Edinburgh, May 1, 1879.
Undine Undone. Halifax Theatre, April 21, 1873.
Undine, burl. Great Yarmouth Theatre, August 13, 1883.
The Ups and Downs of Deal, and Black-eyed Susan. Marylebone, June 10, 1867.
Valentine and Orson, burl.-drama, by R. Reece. Gaiety, December 23, 1882.
Valentine and Orson, burlesque, by Joseph Ellis. Brentford Theatre, November 1, 1888.
The Vampire, burl., by Robert Reece. Strand, Aug. 15, 1872.
Vanderdecken; or, The Flying Anglo-Dutchman’s Phantom Penny Steamer, by Whyte Edgar. Novelty, Dec. 9, 1885.
The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan; or, the Maniac, the Mistery, and the Malediction, by H. L. Walford. Gallery of Illustration, November 24, 1870.
Venus; or, Gods as they Were, and not as they ought to Have Been, by Edward Rose and Augustus Harris. Royalty, June 27, 1879.
Venus and Adonis, burl., by F. C. Burnand. Haymarket, March 28, 1864. Misses Nelly Moore and Louise Keeley.
The Very Last Days of Pompeii! By R. Reece. Vaudeville, February 13, 1872. David James, Thomas Thorne, Miss Nelly Power.
The Very Last Edition of the Tempest; or, the Wily Wizard, the Winsome Wench, and the Wicked Willain, by A. H. O.
The Very Latest Edition of the Gathering of the Clans, by G. W. Hunt. East London T., October 18, 1873.
The Very Latest Edition of the Lady of Lyons, by H. J. Byron. Strand, July 11, 1859. J. Rogers, J. Clarke, H. J. Turner, Misses C. Saunders, and M. Oliver.
The Very Latest Edition of Robinson Crusoe, by H. B. Farnie. Folly. Lionel Brough, Willie Edouin, Misses Lydia Thompson, and Violet Cameron.
Very Little Faust and More Mephistopheles, by F. C. Burnand. Charing Cross, August 18, 1869. Published by Phillips, Regent Circus, London.
Very Little Hamlet, by W. Yardley. Gaiety, Nov. 29, 1884.
Vesta, burl., by H. B. Farnie. St. James’s, Feb. 9, 1871.
The Vicar of Wide-awake-field; or, the Miss-Tery-ous Uncle, burlesque of “Olivia,” by H. P. Stephens and W. Yardley. Gaiety, August 8, 1885. In this Mr. Arthur Roberts and Miss L. Linden were very successful in their burlesques of Henry Irving & Miss Ellen Terry.
La Vie, burl.-opera, by H. B. Farnie. First produced at Brighton T., September 17, 1883, Avenue T., London, Oct. 3, 1883. Founded on “La Vie Parisienne.”
Villekyns and His Dinah, by Frederick Eyles. Swiss Gardens, Shoreham, July 7, 1873.
Villikins and His Dinah, burl., by F. C. Burnand. The Amateur Dramatic Club, Cambridge, Nov. 8, 1855.
Virginius the Rum’un, by W. Rogers. Sadler’s Wells, May, 1837.
Virginius; or, the Trial of a fond Papa, by Leicester Buckingham. St. James’s, October 1, 1859.
La Vivandière, by W. S. Gilbert. Queen’s, Jan. 18, 1868.
Vortigern; an Historical Play. Represented at the T. R., Drury Lane, April 2, 1796, as a supposed newly-discovered Drama by Shakespeare. Mr. John Kemble and Mrs. Jordan. This play was a forgery written by W. H. Ireland, and was afterwards published by him, with a Preface, in which he acknowledged the imposition he had practised, and gloried in having been able to deceive some of the first scholars and ablest critics of the day.
Wattie and Meg, burl., by W. Lowe. Dundee Theatre, January 20, 1873.
Wat Tyler, M.P., burlesque, by G. A. Sala. Gaiety, December 20, 1869.
The Weeping Willow, burl., by Peter Davey, Herbert Linford, and H. S. Ram. Town Hall, Staines. May 5, 1886.
What’s it on; or, Shakespeare-ience Teaches, burl., by W. Routledge. Gallery of Illustration (Amateurs), Jan. 29, ’70
The White Cat, burlesque, by F. C. Burnand. Globe, December 26, 1870.
The White Fawn, extrav., by F. C. Burnand. Holborn, April 13, 1868.
Whittington Junior, and his Sensation Cat, by Robert Reece. Royalty, November 23, 1870.
344 Whittington and His Cat. Panto-opening by E. L. Blanchard. Drury Lane, Dec., 1875.
Whittington and his Cat, burl.-drama, by F. C. Burnand. Gaiety, October 15, 1881. T. Squire, E. W. Royce, J. Dallas, Misses E. Farren and Kate Vaughan.
The Wife, a Tale of a Mantua Maker, burl.-drama by Joseph Graves. Strand, June 19, 1837.
William Tell, burl.-panto. Drury Lane, July 12, 1856.
William Tell, a Telling Version of an old Tell Tale, by Leicester Buckingham. Strand, April 13, 1857.
William Tell with a Vengeance, by Henry J. Byron. Alexandra T., Liverpool, September 4, 1867, and Strand Theatre, London, October 5, 1867.
William Tell, by Arthur J. O’Neil. Sadler’s Wells, October 19, 1867.
William Tell, Told over again, by Robert Reece. Gaiety, December 21, 1876.
Willikind and his Dinah, by J. Stirling Coyne. Haymarket, March 16, 1854.
Windsor Castle, burlesque-opera, by F. C. Burnand. Strand, June 5, 1865. David James, T. Thorne, J. Stoyle, H. J. Turner, Miss Ada Swanborough.
Windsor Castle, burlesque, by T. C. Grace. Newcastle Theatre, June 22, 1868.
Winter’s Tale, burlesque, by William Brough. Lyceum, September 15, 1856. J. L. Toole, William Brough, Mrs. A. Mellon, and Marie Wilton.
Wonderful Lamp in a new light, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Princess’s, July 4, 1844.
Wood Demon; or, One o’clock, by Charles Kenney and Albert Smith. Lyceum, May 6, 1847.
The World Underground; or, the Golden Fleece and the Brazen Waters, burlesque, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Haymarket, December, 1848.
Yellow Dwarf, burlesque-burletta, by Gilbert A. à Beckett. Princess’s, December 26, 1842. Madame Sala.
The Yellow Dwarf, and the King of the Gold Mine, by J. R. Planché. Olympic, December 26, 1854. F. Robson, Miss Julia St. George.
The Yellow Dwarf; or, the Good Sovereign and the Bad Yellow Boy, by Frank Hall. Philharmonic. March 29, 1880.
Yellow Dwarf, burlesque-extrav., by Robert Reece and Alfred Thompson. Her Majesty’s, December 30, 1882.
Young Dick Whittington, by J. Wilton Jones. Leicester Theatre, April 18, 1881.
Young Fra Diavolo; the Terror of Terracina, by Henry J. Byron. Gaiety, November 18, 1878. E. Terry, E. W. Royce, R. Soutar, T. Squire, Misses E. Farren, Kate Vaughan and C. Gilchrist.
Young Rip Van Winkle, by R. Reece. Folly, April 17, 1876.
Zampa; or, The Buckaneer and the Little Dear, by T. F. Plowman. Court, October 2, 1872.
Zampa; or, the Cruel Corsair, and the Marble Maid, by J. F. McArdle. Liverpool T., October 9, 1876.
——:o:——
In his Introduction to Burlesque Plays and Poems (G. Routledge & Sons, 1885), Mr. Henry Morley observes:—
“The word Burlesque came to us through the French from the Italian ‘burlesco’; ‘burla’ being mockery or raillery, and implying always an object. Burlesque must, burlarsi di uno, mock at somebody or something, and when intended to give pleasure it is nothing if not good-natured. One etymologist associates the word with the old English ‘bourd,’ a jest; the Gaelic ‘burd,’ he says, means mockery, and ‘buirleadh,’ is language of ridicule. Yes, and ‘burrail’ is the loud romping of children, and ‘burrall’ is weeping and wailing in a deep-toned howl. Another etymologist takes the Italian ‘burla,’ waggery or banter, as diminutive from the Latin ‘burra,’ which means a rough hair, but is used by Ausonius in the sense of a jest. That etymology no doubt fits burlesque to a hair, but, like Launce’s sweetheart, it may have more hair than wit.”
There are few more amusing pieces of light English literature than some of our early theatrical burlesques, such as Beaumont and Fletcher’s “Knight of the Burning Pestle,” the Duke of Buckingham’s “Rehearsal,” Henry Fielding’s “Tom Thumb,” Sheridan’s “The Critic,” and Poole’s “Hamlet,” with its absurd notes in imitation of several learned Shakespearian commentators.
During the last thirty or forty years this particular form of Dramatic Entertainment has been specially cultivated, and at the Strand, Royalty, and Gaiety Theatres, in London, the “Sacred Lamp of Burlesque” has been kept alight by the productions of such prolific and humorous writers as Gilbert A. à Beckett, Francis Talfourd, Leicester Buckingham, Albert Smith, William Brough, Robert Reece, Stirling Coyne, H. B. Farnie, Henry J. Byron, and F. C. Burnand. Much has been written for and against dramatic burlesque, and it may be said, without fear of contradiction, that recently far less attention has been devoted to the literary merits of the productions than to the scenery and dresses. The humour of the actors being considered as of less importance than a dazzling mise-en-scene with a host of pretty half-dressed ballet girls.
The following articles are of interest in connection with modern dramatic burlesque.
Is Burlesque Art? A paper by Blanche Reives, read before the Church and Stage Guild, October 7, 1880. The authoress quotes thus from a letter written by Mr. W. S. Gilbert:—“Burlesque in its higher development calls for high intellectual power on the part of its professors. Aristophanes, Rabelais, George Cruikshank, the authors of the Rejected Addresses, John Leech, and J. R. Planché were all in their respective lines professors of true burlesque. The form of burlesque with which modern theatre goers are familiar, scarcely calls for criticism, it is infantile in its folly.”
The “A. D. C.”, by F. C. Burnand, B.A., being Personal Reminiscences of the University Amateur Dramatic Club, Cambridge. London, Chapman & Hall, 1880.
Old Comedy on a New Stage, by R. C. Jebb. The Fortnightly Review. January 1884.
Burlesques, Old and New, a short paper by Leopold Wagner. Time, November, 1886.
The Spirit of Burlesque, in “The Universal Review” for October, 1888, by F. C. Burnand, himself probably the most prolific of all modern English authors of Parody and Burlesque.
Reminiscences of the New Royalty, by F. C. Burnand, containing an illustrated history of his immensely successful burlesque, “Black Eyed Susan.” See “The Universal Review,” December, 1888. 345
A very Private View of the Grosvenor.
(By Ollendorff Junior.)
Have you seen the Pictures? I have not seen the Pictures. I have not seen the Pictures, but I have seen the People. I shall lunch. Shall you lunch? I will lunch with you (at your expense). Thank you! (merci!) Has the Æsthete cut his hair? The Hairdresser has cut the Æsthete’s hair (i.e., the hair of the Æsthete). I like (j’aime) the Picture by (par) Keeley Halswelle, but I will not purchase (acheter) the Nocturne by Whistler (siffleur). Whistler be blowed! (sifflé). Keeley Halswelle’s Picture is called (s’appelle) “Royal Windsor.” Is it true (est-ce vrai que) the Soap-man (l’homme aux savons), Pears, has purchased “Royal Windsor” for an advertisement (affiche)? Val Prinsep has painted something like an Artist, but (mais) Mr. Holl has painted somebody who is something like an Artist. What is his name? His name is (il s’appelle) John Tenniel. It is very hot. It is crowded. When it is crowded it is hot. How many people are there here? I do not know: I will count them. I should like some lunch. You can lunch at the Restaurant below. Will you lunch there also (aussi)? With pleasure, if you will pay for both of us (tous les deux). I have a hat, a stick, an umbrella, a catalogue, a ticket of admission, and an appetite, but I have no money. I am afraid (je crains) that no one will give me luncheon. I will (je vais) go down (descendre) into the Restaurant.
Waiter! (garçon) have you some bread, some cutlets, some beef, some preserved strawberry jam-tart (confiture aux fraises), and some good wine (du bon vin)? Yes sir; here they are (voilà). Ah! my dear friend (mon cher ami), sit opposite (vis-à-vis) me. Call the Waiter, and tell him we lunch together (ensemble).
The wine is good, the bread is excellent, the beef is appetising. Excuse me one moment (un moment) I see Madame X—— going up (monter) to the Gallery. I must (il faut) speak to her. She has asked me to show (indiquer) her Mrs. Jopling’s pictures and Miss Montalba’s (ceux de Mlle. Montalba). You are coming back (de retour), are you not (n’est-ce pas)? Yes; I shall come back.
Waiter! the Gentleman who was with me will come back and pay for his own share. No, Sir (Non, Monsieur) you must pay for the two. It is too bad; I will speak to (m’addresser) Mr. Comyns Carr, or to Sir Coutts. All that is nothing to me (tout ça ne me regarde pas); you have (il faut absolument) to pay for two soups, two fish, two beefs, two vegetables (legumes), one bottle of the best (le meilleur) wine, two breads, two butters.
There is the money. I am angry. I will not give anything (ne-rien) to the waiter. The pictures are in the Gallery above, but his friend is no longer to be seen (visible). Where is that gentleman (ce monsieur)? He is gone (il est parti). Did he say when he would return? No; he did not say when he would return. He has taken my overcoat (par-dessus), my catalogue, and my new umbrella (parapluie). I will hasten (me presser) to seek (chercher) him. Another day I will look at the pictures.
Punch, May 5, 1883.
to some of the principal
Books and Periodicals
treating of Parody and Burlesque.
——:o:——
Curiosities of Literature, by Isaac D’Israeli, has chapters on “Parodies,” “Literary Forgeries,” and on “Literary Impostures.”
The Edinburgh Review, November 1812, contains the famous article by Lord Jeffrey on “Rejected Addresses.”
The Three Trials of William Hone for publishing Three Parodies, namely, “The late John Wilkes’s Catechism,” “The Political Litany,” and the “Sinecurist’s Creed,” at Guildhall, London, December 18, 19, and 20, 1817. William Hone himself printed and published in 1818, the Reports of these Trials, which contain a great quantity of general information about Parodies.
Rejected Addresses. After this amusing collection of Parodies had run through seventeen editions Mr. John Murray purchased the copyright, and in 1833 he brought out the eighteenth edition. This has an interesting preface, and valuable notes.
The Westminster Review, July, 1854. An anonymous article on “Parody.” London: John Chapman.
Curiosités Littéraires, par Ludovic Lalanne. Paris: A. Delahays, 1857. Contains articles on imitation and burlesque.
Memoir of William Edmonstoune Aytoun. By (Sir) Theodore Martin. Edinburgh: William Blackwood & Sons, 1867. This contains information as to Aytoun’s share in the Bon Gaultier Ballads, his mock tragedy Firmilian, and other humorous writings, prose and verse.
The Standard, November 26, 1868; January 30, 1871.
La Parodie chez les Grecs, chez les Romains, et chez les Modernes, par Octave Delepierre. Londres: N. Trübner et Cie., 1870.
The chapter on English Parodies (p. 146 to p. 169) was compiled by M. Delepierre from information and Parodies supplied to him by Walter Hamilton.
The Athenæum, July 1, 1871. A Review of M. Delepierre’s “La Parodie.” London.
Pro and Con. Edited by Walter Hamilton. February 15, 1873. An article on Parodies, Paraphrases and Imitations. London: E. and F. Spon.
The Galaxy, May 1874. Contains “The Parody of the Period,” by J. Brander Matthews (p. 694). New York, U.S.A. Sheldon & Company.
Tinsley’s Magazine (London), September 1876. An article on “Parody,” by S. Waddington.
Fun, Ancient and Modern. By Dr. Maurice Davies. Two volumes. London: Tinsley Brothers, 1878.
History of English Humour. By the Rev. A. G. L’Estrange. Two volumes. Has a chapter on Burlesque and Parody. London: Hurst & Blackett, 1878.
The Globe (London), November 17, 1880. An article on “Parodies.”
The Humorous Poetry of the English Language, from Chaucer to Saxe. Collected by J. Parton, Boston, U.S. Houghton & Co., 1881. This contains a good collection of Parodies and Burlesques, most of which have been reprinted in this work.
346 The Gentleman’s Magazine, London. September, 1881. “The Poetry of Parody,” by W. Davenport Adams.
Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentricities. Edited by William T. Dobson. London: Chatto & Windus, 1882. Contains a chapter on Parody.
The Maclise Portrait Gallery of Illustrious Literary Characters, with Memoirs. By William Bates, B.A. London: Chatto & Windus, 1883.
A storehouse of information as to the history and origin of some of the best parodies in the language.
Vers de Société and Parody. By H. A. Page. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1883.
The Gentleman’s Magazine, February, 1884. “Charles Cotton,” by Rev. M. G. Watkins, contains an account of Cotton’s Burlesques. London: Chatto & Windus.
Chambers’s Journal, February 2, 1884. “The Muse of Parody.” Anonymous. London: W. & R. Chambers.
Burlesque Plays and Poems, with an Introduction, by Henry Morley. London: G. Routledge & Sons, 1885.
The Literary Remains of Charles Stuart Calverley, with a Memoir. By Walter J. Sendall. London: George Bell and Sons, 1885. This is interesting as throwing light on the composition of Calverley’s exquisite imitations.
The Saturday Review (London), February 14, 1885. An article “The Art of Parody” (anonymous), which was reprinted on p. 103, Vol. II. of this collection.
The Daily News (London), October 10, 1885. A leader on Charles Stuart Calverley’s Poems and Parodies.
Longman’s Magazine (London), October, 1886. An article, “The Ethics of Plagiarism,” by Brander Matthews.
Temple Bar (London), January, 1887. An article on Charles Stuart Calverley, and his Parodies.
The Whitehall Review (London), March 10, 1887. “Concerning Parodies.”
Family Herald, July 28, 1888. “Parodies.” Anonymous. London: William Stevens.
The Daily News (London), December 3, 1888. A leader on “Parody.”
Temple Bar (London), March, 1889. An anonymous paper on James Smith, and the Rejected Addresses, the greater part of which is borrowed from the Preface to the 18th edition (1833), of the R. A.
In Cap and Gown, Three Centuries of Cambridge Wit. Edited by Charles Whibley. London: Kegan, Paul, Trench & Co., 1889.
This contains some of the best parodies which have been published in Cambridge, with notes descriptive of the principal publications of the University.
The Daily News (London), June 21, 1889. A leader on Hamilton’s “Collection of Poems and Parodies in Praise of Tobacco.”
The Daily News (London), October 16, 1889. A leader on Mr. Charles Whibley’s “In Cap and Gown,” which see.
Famous Literary Impostures, a Series of Essays. By H. R. Montgomery. London: E. W. Allen.
Notes and Queries. London. See particularly March 25, 1871; June 26, 1880; June 25, 1887; July 30, 1887.
The Weekly Dispatch. London. In November, 1879, this paper commenced prize competitions which it has continued ever since. Parodies of well-known authors are often selected for these competitions, and many examples have been quoted in this collection.
The World. London. In July, 1879, this journal opened its columns to competitors for prizes, which were awarded for the best parodies of certain poems selected by the Editor. Many of these have also been quoted in Parodies.
End of Sixth, and Last, Volume.
[1] Written at the Crystal Palace Aquarium.
[2] J’entends.
[3] An adaptation of “Madonna mia.”
[4] See “The Gentleman’s Magazine,” Vol. 56, p. 427; also Boswell’s Life of Johnson, Vol. 10, p. 189—edition in 10 vols., published by John Murray, London, 1835.
[5] The lines in italics are usually omitted, as being too serious for the occasion. They allude to certain newspaper critics who were supposed to be present, and who became rather heated in their political expressions.
[7] In plain English, the Halfpenny-hatch, then a footway through fields; but now, as the same bards sing elsewhere—
[8] Some extracts from this parody, with an illustration by Cruikshank, will be found in Vol. IV. Parodies, p. 102.
[9] John Kemble.
[10] Madame Catalani.
[11] “Company” understood.
[12] Cochin China Cock.
[13] Halliwell considered this rhyme to be at least 300 years old. He adds a fifth verse:—
He also makes the last line of the fourth verse to read:—
which tragical dénouement is certainly that which is inculcated in all well-regulated nurseries.
[14] Slang for sixpence.
[15] Battenburg.
[16] Poem on Liberty, ver. 12.
[17] Ibid. ver. 16.
[18] Ibid. ver. 104.
[19] A poetical word for a Tobacco-box.
[20] Poem on Liberty, ver. 243, 245.
[21] Poem on Liberty, ver. 247.
[22] Ibid. ver. 309.
[23] Ibid. ver. 171.
[24] Antis i.e., Anti-smokers.
[25] An allusion to a phrase in Ruddigore.
[26] The term “drinking” tobacco was commonly used in the early days of smoking.
[27] An herb with which the hart is said to cure its wounds.
[28] Or, Swad out with the antro gilespians.
[29] See Hesio. Pro Mea benevolente. Act. Mediæv. Pp. 992. Quisque numjam satis, Vol. II., chap. 78, ¶XIV. Also, Hey Didhul Didhul Thecat anthef Hidul. ¶XI Pp. 672. Ib.
[30] Not found in the MSS. of the 29th century. Hunc Dune objected to by the English committee.
[31] This may also be rendered, “a long ways.”
[32] In the Vulgate, “like a California diamond.”
[33] The Morning Star, a London Liberal newspaper, founded in 1856.
[34] To enable the reader to realise more vividly the impressive solemnity of this ode, the number of welcomes has been put in Arabic numerals.
[35] Sir Francis Burdett, Radical M.P. for Westminster, and father of Lady Burdett Coutts.
[36] William Cobbett, M.P. for Oldham, an extraordinary man, who started life as a private soldier, and by his own unaided exertions acquired a position of considerable importance.
[37] Query—Paced?—Printers Devil.
[38] Fellows of Colleges are not so destitute of feeling as to forget their “Old Friend.”
[39] Sir Richard Steele.
[40] Sir Richard Blackmore.
[41] Sir Richard Cox.
[42] Father of Mr. J. L. Toole, the popular comedian.
[43] Alfred Bunn, the lessee of Drury Lane Theatre, was a fortune to the small wits of the day. He wrote the librettos for some operas, which were neither better nor worse than the average of such productions. Punch bitterly attacked him, but he retaliated in “A word with Punch” which effectually silenced that individual.
Bunn brought out the wonderfully successful Operatic Singer, Jenny Lind. He died in 1860.
[44] Jullien organised the popular Promenade Concerts, with military bands, Army Quadrilles, &c.
[45] The Rape of the Bucket: An Heroi-comical Poem. Translated from the Italian of Tassoni by Mr. Ozell.
[46] Ringing the penance-bell was an expression which frequently occurred in Brown’s writings.
[47] Two celebrated coaches.
[48] The month in which the B.A. degree is taken and which in many instances, is the “finis fatorum;” at least to a great portion of the “bons vivans.”
[49] The celebrated Lord Chesterfield, whose Letters to his Son, according to Dr. Johnson, inculcate “the manners of a dancing master and the morals of a ——,” &c.
[50] “Lord Mayor of the theatric sky.” This alludes to Leigh Hunt, who, in The Examiner, at this time kept the actors in hot water.
[51] All England Lawn-Tennis Club.
[52] President Hitquick Club.
[53] It would seem that the striking want of poetical justice in the usually-received termination of this otherwise excellent story, wherein none of the good people were made happy, and the wicked were most inadequately punished, had caused the author to tremble for his popularity among the female portion of the community—who, it is well known, will stand no liberties of that description. He has therefore (apparently) re-written it on more orthodox principles; or (not improbably) got somebody else to re-write it for him; or (as is barely possible) somebody else has re-written it for him without asking his leave. We have no means of ascertaining the exact state of the case. The reader is requested to form his own opinion, and let us know at his earliest convenience.—Eds. O. M.
[54] Not being a ghost, Corydon does not talk in the style of 1670.
[55] The subject and title of these papers bear some resemblance to Messrs. Griffith and Farran’s natty little republication of the selections from “Lord Chesterfield’s Letters to his Son,” entitled Manners and Speech, but a careful comparison will establish the dissimilarity.
[56] The Syndicate.
[57] One who betrays his companions.
[58] Share of the plunder.
[59] Burglary.
[60] Inform.
[61] Companions.
[62] Gentlemanly.
[63] Police officers.
[64] Old Bailey pleaders.
[65] Prison.
[66] Gunpowder.
[67] An experienced hand at stealing.
[68] Double-barrelled gun.
[69] Drink freely.
[70] Brandy.
[71] Depart.
[72] Fire.
[73] Transported.
[74] A hearty choke; i.e., hanging.
[75] A Burglary.
[76] Houses.
[77] Steal.
[78] Handkerchief.
[79] Skilful.
[80] Pass false notes.
[81] Watch.
[82] Hanged.
[83] Parson.
[84] Magistrate or judge.
[85] Handsomest wig.
[86] Prison.
[87] Ladies of a certain description.
[88] Comrades or fast friends.
[89] Thieves speak of themselves as “family-men.”
[90] Warders.
[91] Night.
[92] Meat and drink.
[93] A greenhorn.
[94] Tricks of the trade.
[95] Talking slang.
[96] Imprisoned.
[97] Up to prison ways.
[98] Writing.
[99] Thieves should pray on their knees.
[100] Highway-robbers, swell-mobsmen, burglars, and forgers.
[101] Slang names for Pentonville Model Prison, and Millbank Penitentiary.
[102] Whitechapel Swell.
[103] Actions.
[104] Flash.
[105] Half-penny.
[106] Hat.
[107] Eatables.
[108] Coat.
[109] Look.
[110] Trousers.
[111] The Throat.
[112] Flash.
[113] Vest.
[114] Pockets.
[115] Teetotaler.
[116] Sure place.
[117] Money.
[118] Pickpockets.
[119] Cross hands.
[120] A watch.
[121] Chain.
[122] Deceive.
[123] Gensd’armes.
[124] Salute.
[125] Shout.
[126] Public-house.
[127] Smoke a pipe.
[128] Paid a shilling.
[129] Gin.
[130] Humbug.
[131] Sherry.
[132] Mistress.
[133] Pork.
[134] Red herring.
[135] Lots of beer.
[136] The judges.
[137] Clothes.
[138] Neat.
[139] A fine young woman.
[140] Die.
[141] Drinks water or tea.
[142] Innkeeper.
[143] Tongue.
[144] Stole.
[145] Newgate.
[146] Pike it, to run off quickly.
[147] The Devil take.
[148] The beadle or constable.
[149] Beg Bread.
[150] Porridge.
[151] The day.
[152] Legs in the stocks.
[153] Break into a house.
[154] Get a whipping.
[155] Rob a beer shop.
[156] Cut a purse.
[157] Force a lock.
[158] Magistrate.
[159] Fetters.
[160] Hang on the gallows in the daylight.
[161] To go.
[162] Good, or well.
[163] Women.
[164] To look out.
[165] Goods.
[166] Lost.
[167] A good fellow.
[168] Money.
[169] A buxom wench.
[170] Suited me very well.
[171] To cover or conceal.
[172] Steal.
[173] To tell lies cleverly.
[174] A penny.
[175] The country.
[176] The house being alarmed.
[177] To hide in the woods.
[178] Thieves receiving house.
[179] Bacon.
[180] A beadle or Watchman.
[181] Do not brag of your booty.
[182] To rogues that are base.
[183] The girl on the look out.
[184] A counterfeit license.
[185] To beg.
[186] To break into each house.
[187] The man must run.
[188] Through hedge, ditch and field.
[189] Base fetters give the man his deserts.
[190] The jail.
[191] May the Devil take.
[192] Justice of the Peace.
[193] Drink, wench, and beershop, then good night.
[194] To hang on the gallows.
[195] By rogues betrayed.
[196] Long-home.
[197] London.
[198] Horse stealers.
[199] Carriage and Wagon pilferers, and Trunk lifters.
[200] Fancy man, sweetheart.
[201] Prisons.
[202] Handcuffs.
[203] A fool easily cheated by a woman.
[204] Refreshments.
[205] A ring, a watch, and a pair of pistols.
[206] Gin shops.
[207] Women and girls.
[208] Beggars with sham wooden legs, etc.
[209] To see you.
[210] Hats or caps.
[211] Beggars’ holiday.
[212] Constables.
[213] Justice of the Peace.
[214] Tramp.
[215] Head of a gang.
[216] Poultry thief.
[217] Horse stealer.
[218] Beggar.
[219] Avoid.
[220] One who sneaks into a house at dusk to admit his companions later on.
[221] Takes us to goal.
[222] Half-pennies.
[223] Rob him of his money.
[224] To spend his shilling.
[225] To treat the other prisoners.
[226] Girl.
[227] Hanging place.
[228] Knife.
[229] The moon.
[230] Light.
[231] Highwayman.
[232] “Cherry-coloured—black; there being black cherries as well as red.”—Grose.
[233] Sword.
[234] Pistols.
[235] Highway-robbery.
[236] Pocket-book.
[237] Money.
[238] Bullets.
[239] The gallows.
[240] Ditto.
[241] Money.
[242] Man.
[243] Stripped.
[244] Fellow.
[245] A particular kind of pugilistic punishment.
[246] Kept an eye upon the other.
[247] Hands.
[248] Deceive them.
[249] Dyot Street, St. Giles’s, afterwards called George Street, Bloomsbury, was a well-known Rookery, where thieves, and other gentry, could obtain cheap accommodation.
[250] Beggars.
[251] A footman to hackney coaches, to water the horses, etc.
[252] To pick a pocket.
[253] To lay hold of notes or money.
[254] Steal handkerchiefs dexterously.
[255] Steal a watch.
[256] Pocket the chain and seals.
[257] Search for a pouch or pocket-book.
[258] Pocket-books are also called readers.
[259] An intended robbery.
[260] My hand is skilful.
[261] A disorderly vagabond.
[262] The lock-up.
[263] Gaoler.
[264] Running away.
[265] Frolicsome.
[266] An expert pickpocket.
[267] Night.
[268] Not to commit any offence punishable with death.
[269] The fine payable on capital conviction.
[270] Transported.
[271] Hanged.
[272] House-breaker.
[273] Highwayman.
[274] Pawned their clothes.
[275] The rope.
[276] Pocket handkerchief.
[277] Candles.
[278] Break your head.
[279] Neck.
[280] On the tapis (carpet).
[281] Regular nonsense.
[282] Talking.
[283] Walking.
[284] Eating and drinking.
[285] A sovereign.
[286] Look out, be on your guard.
[287] The gallows.
[288] A Foot pad.
[289] A Burglar.
[290] A Window thief.
[291] Steal the valuables.
[292] A pickpocket.
[293] A silly fop.
[294] A sneaking thief.
[295] One whose duty it is to hustle a person, whilst another robs him.
[296] A country man.
[297] One who hooks goods out of shop doors, and windows.
[298] A publichouse thief.
[299] A well-dressed sharper who performs the confidence trick, etc.
[300] A good-natured fool.
[301] Money.
[302] A wench.
[303] An easy dupe.
[304] Something dropped in the street as a lure.
[305] One caught in the act of stealing is considered a poor hand by his pals.
[306] A cow stealer.
[307] A child stealer.
[308] A poultry stealer.
[309] Members of the Canting Crew.
[310] and [311] Night and Day.
[312] See.
[313] My Girl.
[314] Return.
[315] Eyes.
[316] Strolling mock priest.
[317] Ducks and geese.
[318] Hang.
[319] Never “peach” or confess.
[320] Neck.
[321] Thieving business.
[322] A girl.
[323] Spoke flash.
[324] Drink and food.
[325] Beer.
[326] Thieving way.
[327] Bed.
[328] Nose.
[329] Pockets.
[330] Fingers.
[331] Sovereigns.
[332] Seals.
[333] The parson at Newgate.
[334] Saying prayers.
[335] Pickpockets.
[336] Morning work at thieving.
[337] A proof with many errors in it.
[338] When any words have erroneously been set up twice.
[339] This was an error, as the Catechism had previously appeared in a daily paper.
[340] Lord Chancellor Eldon.
[341] Lord Castlereagh.
[342] Lord Sidmouth.
[343] Triangle, s. a thing having three sides; the meanest and most tinkling of all musical instruments; machinery used in military torture.—Dictionary.
[344] All-twattle; Twattle, v. n. to prate, gabble, chatter, talk idly.—Entick’s Dictionary.
[345] Robert Southey, the Poet Laureate.
[346] Sir Robert Walpole.
[347] George III., then insane.
[348] Covent Carden.
[349] Sir Cecil Wray, the Ministerial Candidate, who proposed to put a tax on female servants.
[350] This prophecy was afterwards strangely fulfilled, for the Sultan was run upon rocks and sunk. The Duke of Edinburgh was not on board at the time, but he was in command on the station, and under his directions ineffectual efforts were made to save the vessel. These having failed, a Court of Enquiry was held, of which it has not been deemed prudent to publish any report. It would obviously be exceedingly unprofessional to impute negligence or incompetence to a Royal Duke who condescends to accept the title and the pay of an Admiral.
The vessel was afterwards raised, and taken into port by a firm of contractors.
The Authors of the original poems are arranged in alphabetical order; the titles of the original poems are printed in italics, followed by the Parodies. The Authors of the Parodies are named in italics.
A Bibliography of the Parodies of Charles Dickens | 224 |
A Bibliography of French Parodies | 323 |
Bibliography of Scriptural Parodies | 312 |
Books and Periodicals dealing with Parody | 345 |
Books of Reference on Slang, Cant, and “Argot” | 282 |
Burlesques of Educational Works | 328 |
English Burlesques of the Classics | 325 |
Literary Forgeries and Impostures | 322 |
Mock Heroic Poems | 179 |
Plays founded on Charles Dickens’s Novels | 226 |
Theatrical Burlesques and Travesties | 331 |
Ballades; Rondeaus; Villanelles, etc. | |
The Ballade (See Swinburne). | |
The Ballade in Bad Weather. J. Ashby Sterry | 64 |
A Ballade of Old Metres | 64 |
A Young Poet’s Advice | 64 |
Ballade of Old Law Books | 65 |
Ballade of the Honest Lawyer | 65 |
Ballade of Leading Cases | 65 |
Ballade of the Timid Bard | 65 |
Ballade of a Ballade Monger. G. White | 85 |
Ballade of Primitive Man. Andrew Lang | 85 |
Ballade of Primitive Woman. American | 85 |
The Doom of the Muses. H. D. Traill | 86 |
Austin Dobson—Andrew Lang | 86 |
Ballade of the Best Pipe | 145 |
Ballade of Tobacco | 145 |
The Villanelle | 65 |
J’ay perdu ma tourterelle | 66 |
When I saw you last, Rose | 66 |
A Villanelle, after Oscar Wilde | 66 |
The Street Singer. Austin Dobson | 66 |
Culture in the Slums. W. E. Henley | 66 |
In Wain! Punch | 67 |
Jean Passerat, I like thee well | 87 |
It’s all a trick. W. W. Skeat | 87 |
We are Cook’s Tourists. H. C. Bunner | 87 |
Dewy-eyed with shimmering hair | 88 |
The Triolet (in a Temper) | 67 |
Le premier jour du mois de mai | 67 |
I wished to sing my love | 67 |
How to fashion a Triolet | 67 |
Triolets by Austin Dobson | 86 |
With Pipe and Book | 146 |
The Rondeau (in a Rage) | 67 |
Ma foi, c’est fait de moi | 68 |
You bid me try. Austin Dobson | 68 |
Why do I wander wildly? | 68 |
Culture in the Slums. W. E. Henley | 68 |
That dear old Tune | 86 |
In corsets laced | 87 |
Chant Royal. | |
Behold the Deeds. H. E. Bunner | 68 |
Rondels. | |
Two Rondels | 68 |
You bet! you hear me | 86 |
We have a most erotic bard | 86 |
In a Cloud of smoke | 146 |
Roundel. | |
The cat that sings | 87 |
Robert Browning. | |
Mr. R. Browning’s objection to Parodies | 46 |
Waitress, with eyes so marvellous black | 19 |
A Motto! Just a catch-word | 26 |
How they brought the Good News from Ulundi to Landsman’s Drift. The World | 47 |
How I won the Challenge Shield | 47 |
The Pied Piper of Hamelin | 48 |
The Bagpiper of Midlothian | 48 |
The Red Piper of Westminster | 49 |
Poets and Linnets. Tom Hood | 49 |
The Quest of Barparlo. Judy | 49 |
Wanting is—what? | |
Browning is—what? | 49 |
Loving is—what? | 49 |
Wooing is—what? | 50 |
A Billiard Mystery | 50 |
Come is the Comer | 50 |
The Lost Leader. | |
The Latest News. Fun | 50 |
A Story of Girton | 51 |
The Losing Leader | 52 |
The Patriot, and two Parodies | 51 |
A Parleying with a certain person of no importance (Joseph Chamberlain) | 51 |
Two Sides | 52 |
My Kate | 52 |
Lays of a Lover | 52 |
Post Chronology. O. M. Brown | 52 |
R. Browning’s Lines on the “Jubilee,” and a Parody | 52 |
The Poets at Tea | 52 |
Angelo orders his Dinner. Bayard Taylor | 53 |
Any Pleader to any Student | 53 |
The Cock and the Bull. C. S. Calverley | 53 |
John Jones. The Heptalogia | 54 |
Articles on Robert Browning’s Poems | 54 |
Browning Societies | 54 |
Take them, Chum, the book and me together | 55 |
Austin Dobson. | |
This was the Pompadour’s Fan | 61 |
A Ballade of the Grosvenor Gallery | 61 |
A Ballade of Five o’clock Tea | 62 |
Ballade of Pot-Pourri | 62 |
Other Ballades, | 62, 64 |
Tu Quoyue (by permission) | 62 |
An Idyll of the Lobby. Pall Mall | 63 |
The Prodigals. W. E. Henley | 63 |
John Dryden. | |
Alexander’s Feast | 169 |
Shakespeare’s Feast, 1769 | 170 |
Prancer’s Feast, 1779 | 171 |
The Grand Portsmouth Puppet-show, 1786 | 171 |
The Covent Garden Row. (O. P.) 1810 | 172 |
Sir Francis Burdett’s Feast, 1814 | 172 |
Commemoration Day, 1824 | 172 |
Ode to a Wrangler’s Spread | 173 |
The Kennington Common Revolution, 1848 | 173 |
Josh Hudson’s Feast | 174 |
Alexander (Henderson’s) Feast, 1884 | 175 |
Three Poets, in three distant ages born | 175 |
Parallel passages and imitations | 176 |
The Hind and the Panther. | |
The Country Mouse and the City Mouse | 176 |
John Keats. | |
Who killed John Keats? | 193 |
La Belle Dame sans merci | 193 |
Ode on a Jar of Pickles. Bayard Taylor | 193 |
A thing of Beauty is a joy for ever | |
A Locomotive is a joy for ever | 194 |
Frederick Locker-Lampson. | |
Biographical Notes, | 55, 85 |
St. James’s Street, and a pirated version | 56 |
St. Giles. Henry S. Leigh | 57 |
Tempora Mutantur! and a Parody | 57 |
Bramble Rise | 57 |
A song at Sixty | 57 |
His Girl | 58 |
An Invitation to Rome | 58 |
Mr. Gladstone in Rome | 58 |
From the Cradle, and a Parody | 58 |
A Gallery of Fair Women | 59 |
Something Praedesque. Mortimer Collins | 59 |
London’s “Suez Canal.” H. C. Pennell | 60 |
Songsters of the Day. Time | 60 |
On Frederick Locker | 61 |
Nursery Rhymes. | |
Introductory Notes | 101 |
The House that Jack built | 101 |
Hebrew version | 101 |
Political Parodies of this Rhyme | 102 |
Version written for the O. P. Riots | 103 |
Parodies in The Ingoldsby Lyrics | 103 |
The Palace that Nash built | 103 |
The Crystal Palace that Fox built | 103 |
The House that Barry built | 103 |
The Water that John drinks | 104 |
The Show that Sham built | 104 |
The Mine that Lyon struck | 104 |
The Land of Austra-lia | 104 |
The Ship that Jack built | 104 |
The House that John built | 104 |
This is the Radical Bradlaugh | 104 |
This is the Face that Art made | 105 |
The House that any one built | 105 |
The Bicycle that Jack made | 105 |
The House that Tithe built | 105 |
The Mitchelstown Murders | 106 |
This is the Toy. Truth. | 106 |
The Boat that Jack built | 106 |
Behold the Mansion reared by Daedal Jack. E. L. Blanchard | 106 |
The Jubilee Coercion Bill | 107 |
The House that Bowen built | 107 |
The Domiciliary Edifice erected by John | 107 |
A Sermon on this Rhyme | 108 |
Mary had a Little Lamb | |
Austin Dobson’s Version | 88 |
Robert Browning’s Version | 88 |
H. W. Longfellows’s Version | 88 |
Andrew Lang’s Version | 88 |
A. C. Swinburne’s Version | 88 |
Parodies on “Mary had a Little Lamb” | 125 |
Sing a Song of Sixpence | 108 |
Latin Versions, | 108, 109 |
The Song of the Cover. Bentley’s Miscellany | 108 |
French Version | 109 |
Sing a Song of Christmas | 109 |
A Version in “Pidgin” English | 109 |
Carol forth a Canticle | 109 |
Sing a Song of Season | 109 |
Sing a Song of Dollars | 110 |
Sing a Song of Native Art | 110 |
Sing a Song of Gladness | 110 |
The Cabman’s Shelter. Punch | 110 |
The Song of Science | 110 |
The English Illustrated Magazine | 110 |
Fifty Thousand nimble Shillings | 111 |
Sing a Song of Jingo | 111 |
Sing a Song of Eightpence | 111 |
Sing a Song of Saving | 111 |
The Jubilee Coinage | 111 |
Sing a Song of Gladstone | 111 |
Sing a Song of Scaffolds, of Gunnery, of French Pence, of Chamberlain, of Armaments, of Tricksters, of Libels, of Dynamite | 112 |
Who killed Cock Robin? | |
Who’ll teach the Prince? Punch, 1843 | 114 |
Who killed these Arabs? | 114 |
Who killed Home Rule? | 114 |
Who killed Gladstone? | 115 |
Who won Miss Jenny? | 115 |
Who’ll kill Coercion? | 116 |
Who stole O’Brien’s Breeches? | 116 |
Who killed Cock Warren? | 122 |
Jack and Jill, and Parodies, | 116, 122 |
Hey! Diddle Diddle | 117 |
An Æsthetic Version | 117 |
Mr. Escott’s Version | 117 |
This Pig went to Market. Latin Version | 116 |
The Bells of London Town, and Parodies | 113 |
Mistress Mary, and a Latin Version | 117 |
A Revised Edition | 118 |
Political Parodies | 118 |
Old Mother Hubbard, as a Sermon | 118 |
Little Jack Horner, Latin Versions | 119 |
Little Lord Randy | 119 |
Thirty Days hath September | 123 |
A French Version | 123 |
Dirty days hath September | 123 |
A Summery Summary | 123 |
Mems. for 1885 | 123 |
The Three Jovial Huntsmen | |
he Three Jolly Ratsmen | 124 |
The Three Jovial Welshmen | 124 |
Three Children Sliding on the Ice | 124 |
A Latin Version | 124 |
Thank you, Pretty Cow that made | 125 |
Thank you, Pretty Spotted Snake | 125 |
What are you doing, my Pretty Maid? | 128 |
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, 122, 161 | |
Mica, mica, parva Stella | 161 |
Tinkle, tinkle horrid bell | 161 |
Monument to Temple Bar | 162 |
Shine with Irregular Light | 162 |
Sprinkle, Sprinkle, Water Cart | 162 |
Twinkle, twinkle, Morning Star | 162 |
Tinkle, tinkle, Tramway Car | 163 |
Twinkle, twinkle, Prosecutar | 163 |
Wrinkles, wrinkles, Solar Star | 163 |
Tyndall, Tyndall, Learned Star | 163 |
Twinkle, twinkle, Little Arc | 163 |
Twinkle, twinkle, Boulanger | 164 |
The Spider and the Fly, by Mary Howitt | 164 |
Will you Migrate to New Zealand | 165 |
The Song of the Bank Director | 165 |
The Irish Spider and the English Fly | 166 |
Will you Walk into our Death-trap? | 166 |
Harcourt and Chamberlain | 166 |
Will you Walk into my Convent? | 167 |
Will you Walk into my Tunnel? | 167 |
Pray Come along to Hawarden | 167 |
Taffy was a Welshman | 119 |
What are Little Boys Made of | 120 |
Dickory, dickory dock | 120 |
Multiplication is Vexation | 120 |
Please to Remember the 5th November | 121 |
Privations Sore | 121 |
Humpty Dumpty | 123 |
Babye Bunting | 123 |
I Love Little Pussy | 125 |
If I had a Donkey | 127 |
Halliwell-Halliwell, My Pretty Man | 167 |
When Great Victoria Ruled the Land | 167 |
I do not like Thee, Dr. Fell | 168 |
I love Thee not Nell | 169 |
Jan, je ne t’aime point | 169 |
Parodies and Poems in Praise of Tobacco. | |
J. H. Browne’s Imitations of Colley Cibber, A. Phillips, J. Thomson, E. Young, A. Pope, and Jonathan Swift, entitled “A Pipe of Tobacco” | 129 |
Lord Byron. I Had a Dream | 135 |
C. S. Calverley’s Ode to Tobacco | 139 |
Hand me Another Spill | 139 |
E. Cook. I Love It! I Love It! | 134 |
Barry Cornwall. The Pipe, the Pipe | 138 |
Abraham Cowley. The lazy Earth doth Steam amain | 148 |
T. Gray. Elegy on an Old Pipe Box | 131 |
Mrs. Hemans. The Stately Pipes of England | 135 |
O. W. Holmes. Hymn to St. Nicotine | 137 |
Thomas Hood. I Remember, I Remember | 134 |
Horace. An Ode Against Tobacco | 131 |
C. Kingsley. Three Antis went Groaning | 138 |
H. W. Longfellow. Beware! | 139 |
Tobacco Smoke | 139 |
Song of Firewater | 140 |
Song of Nicotine | 140 |
Tell me not in Penny Numbers | 140 |
Come to Me! oh, my Meerschaum | 141 |
The Pipe and the Quid | 141 |
T. Moore. ’Tis a last choice Havana | 133 |
’Tis the last Weed of Hudson’s | 133 |
’Tis my last Mild Havana | 134 |
The Butcher boy down the Road | 134 |
Oh! the Days are gone | 134 |
My Mother. My Hookah! | 136 |
A Pinch of Snuff! | 136 |
My Pipe, Love! | 136 |
My True Cigar! | 137 |
Tobacco! | 137 |
The Weed | 137 |
A Smoke | 137 |
Mrs. Norton. Smoke not, smoke not | 135 |
A. C. Swinburne. Another match | 141 |
Ballade of more Burdens, “This is the cause of every smoker’s ire” | 142 |
W. Shakespeare. To smoke or not to smoke | 132 |
R. B. Sheridan. Here’s to the hookah | 132 |
Walter Scott. Hail to the plant! | 133 |
The weed was rank | 133 |
Alfred Tennyson. The Cigar Smokers | 142 |
Nicotina! | 144 |
O, Darling weed! | 144 |
I come from vaunted root | 145 |
Wordsworth’s Sonnet. | |
Scorn not the meerschaum | 136 |
Song from the Mikado | 145 |
Ballade of the Best Pipe | 145 |
Ballade of Tobacco | 145 |
In a Cloud of Smoke. Rondel | 146 |
With Pipe and Book | 146 |
On an empty Tobacco Pouch | 146 |
The Smoker’s Alphabet | 146 |
First lines of Songs in Praise of Tobacco. | |
A Poet’s Pipe am I | 155 |
A Small Boy puffed at a Big Cigar | 158 |
As the Years vanish, Darling | 159 |
Borne from a Short Frail Pipe | 152 |
Certain Fumeur Courtisait une Veuve | 149 |
Come, Lovely Tube by Friendship Blest | 152 |
Contre Les Chagrins de La Vie | 153 |
Contented I sit with my Pipe | 153 |
Charm of the Solitude I Love | 155 |
Come! don’t refuse Sweet Nicotina | 157 |
Critics avaunt, Tobacco is my theme | 149 |
Doux charme de ma Solitude (and Translation) | 152 |
Good, good indeed the Herb’s good Weed | 148 |
For lack o’Tobacco | 152 |
Hail! Social Pipe—thou Foe to care | 152 |
Je suis la Pipe d’un Auteur (and Translation) | 155 |
I flirted first with Cigarettes | 150 |
I owe to Smoking, more or less | 159 |
I sing the Song of the Cigarette | 159 |
J’ ai du bon Tabac | 160 |
Knows he that never took a Pinch? | 160 |
Keep me at hand | 157 |
Let no cold Marble o’er my Body rise | 152 |
Luscious Leaf of Fragrant Savour | 149 |
May the Babylonish curse. Charles Lamb | 150 |
Molière on Tobacco | 160 |
My Pipe to me, thro’ gloom and glee | 156 |
Once your Smoothly Polished Face | 154 |
Pig Tail to Chor (A Letter) | 147 |
Plains-moi, Philippe, mon ami | 154 |
Pipe my Darling, Fate is Snarling | 155 |
Sweet Smoking Pipe | 152 |
Some Praise taking Snuff | 154 |
Some sombre evening, when I sit | 155 |
Some sigh for this and that | 157 |
Smoke, do you? | 158 |
The Pungent, Nose Refreshing Weed | 160 |
The Mighty Thebes | 158 |
The Warmth of thy Glow | 158 |
The Sky it was dark | 157 |
Three Hundred Years ago or soe | 157 |
Thou Cheering Friend | 155 |
Tube, I Love thee as my Life | 152 |
Tell me, Shade of Walter Raleigh | 150 |
Thrice Happy Isles that stole the World’s Delight | 149 |
The Indian Weed withered quite | 147 |
Two Maiden Dames of Sixty-two | 148 |
The Lazy Earth doth steam amain | 148 |
Was this small Plant for thee | 147 |
Weed of the Strange Power | 148 |
When Happy quite and Cosy grown | 150 |
When my Pipe burns bright and clear | 153 |
Why should Life in sorrow be spent | 153 |
When Nobs come oot to walk aboot | 154 |
When Life was all a Summer Day | 156 |
Who Scorns the Pipe? | 156 |
When Strong Perfumes | 160 |
Yes, Social Friend, I Love thee well | 158 |
Political Parodies | |
Anticipation. R. Tickell, 1778 | 315 |
Kings’ and Queens’ Speeches to the Houses of Parliament | 316 |
Punch’s Proclamation, 1878 | 318 |
“Ads” of the Future | 318 |
Limited Liability. Daily News | 319 |
Political Manifestoes | 319 |
Saunderson and Waring | 319 |
The Hawarden Block Wood Company | 320 |
Mr. W. E. Gladstone’s Last Will | 321 |
Letters from Political Leaders | 321 |
Prose Parodies. | |
Addison (Joseph), Prefatory Paper, by | 207 |
Acts of Parliament. On Evening Parties, and on Ladies’ Dress | 268 |
Admiralty Reforms | 270 |
Ainsworth (W. H.), Novels | 258 |
Black, William, Parodies on his Novels | 259 |
Blessington, Countess of, Parodies of | 259 |
Boyle, Robert, Dean Swift’s Parody of | 261 |
Braddon, Miss M. E., Dr. Marchmont’s Misery | 257 |
Selina Sedilia, Bret Harte | 259 |
Bret Harte, The Luck of Tory Camp | 242 |
His Finger. Shotover Papers | 243 |
Brontë, Charlotte. Miss Mix. Bret Harte | 259 |
Broughton, Rhoda. Gone Wrong. F. C. Burnand | 259 |
Bürger G. A. Baron Munchausen, & Imitations | 260 |
Burnaby, Colonel F. The Ride to Khiva, F. C. Burnand | 259 |
Burnett, Mrs. F. H. The Real Little Lord Fauntleroy | 255 |
Carlyle, Thomas. Carlyle on Bloomerism | 211 |
On the Tichborne Trial | 211 |
On Mr. Gladstone’s Portrait | 212 |
On the Parliamentary “Closure” | 213 |
On People of the Present | 213 |
On the Inventories | 213 |
On “The Biglow Papers” | 214 |
Carlyle Redivivus | 215 |
On the Oxford Commemoration | 229 |
The Irish Revolution, 1848 | 229 |
Cervantes, Miguel, Parodies of Don Quixote | 259 |
Chesterfield, Lord. Chesterfield Travestie, 1808 | 253 |
Lady Chesterfield’s Letters to her daughter | 253 |
Good manners, Punch | 253 |
Churchill, Lord Randolph. The Standard’s varying estimate of him in 1885, 1888 & 1889 | 256 |
Cœlebs in Search of a Wife, imitated | 259 |
Collins, Wilkie, The Woman in Tights | 242 |
No Title, Bret Harte | 242 |
The Moonstone & Moonshine | 259 |
Conway, Hugh. Much Darker Days | 259 |
Hauled Back. 1885 | 259 |
Day, Thomas. The New History of Sandford & Merton, F. C. Burnand | 259 |
Defoe, Daniel. Imitations of Robinson Crusoe | 259 |
De Quincey, Thomas. A Recent Confession of an Opium Eater | 253 |
Dickens, Charles. Chronological List of his principal Works | 224 |
Parodies from the World, 1879 | 215 |
The Age of Lawn Tennis, Pastime | 216 |
C. S. Calverley’s Examination Paper on “Pickwick” | 217 |
Death of Mr. Pickwick | 218 |
The Battle Won by the Wind | 218 |
The Haunted Man. Bret Harte | 219 |
Dombey & Sons, Finished | 221 |
Hard Times, refinished. R. B. Brough | 223 |
The Political Mrs. Gummidge. Punch | 224 |
The Mudfog Association Papers | 228 |
Sam Weller’s Adventures | 228 |
List of Parodies & Imitations of Dickens’s Works | 225 |
Plays founded upon Dickens’s Novels, | 226, 259 |
Disraeli, Benjamin (Lord Beaconsfield), Lothaw | |
Bret Harte | 238 |
Codlingsby, W. M. Thackeray | 239 |
Nihilism in Russia. The World | 239 |
De Tankard. Puppet Show | 240 |
Tancredi. Cuthbert Bede | 241 |
Ben D’ymion. H. F. Lester | 241 |
The Age of Lawn Tennis | 241 |
A Key to Endymion | 242 |
A Plagiarism, by B. Disraeli | 242 |
A List of Minor Parodies | 259 |
Dumas, Alexander. The Ninety-nine Guardsmen | 250 |
Fielding, Henry. Imitations of Tom Jones | 259 |
Forbes, Archibald. His egotistical style | 254 |
Gore, Mrs. Mammon’s Marriage | 259 |
Haggard, H. Rider, He, 1887 | 257 |
“She” dramatised | 257 |
She-that-ought-not-to-be-Played | 257 |
Hee-Hee. Punch | 257 |
Me, a Companion to She | 257 |
King Solomon’s Wives | 257 |
Hugo, Victor. Anticipations of the Derby, 1869 | 244 |
One and Three. Punch | 247 |
Thirty-one. C. H. Waring | 248 |
Fantine. Bret Harte | 248 |
Grinplaine. Walter Parke | 248 |
Quel bonheur Marie? | 249 |
The House that Victor built | 249 |
The Spoiler of the Sea | 249 |
The Cat | 249 |
A Manifesto by Victor Hugo | 250 |
Hume, Fergus W. Mystery of a Wheelbarrow | 259 |
James, G. P. R. Parodies of | 260 |
Dr. Johnson’s Ghost on “Drury Lane Theatre” | 208 |
On Book binders, after “Rasselas” | 209 |
Anonymous Journalism | 209 |
Lexiphanes | 209 |
Dinarbas | 209 |
Labouchere, Henry, and Edmund Yates | 255 |
Lamb, Charles. Our New Actors. The World | 233 |
Lever, Charles, Parodies of | 260 |
Lytton, Lord. Parodies of his Plays | 251 |
The Diamond Death. Puppet Show | 251 |
The Dweller of the Threshold. Bret Harte | 252 |
On a Toasted Muffin. Cuthbert Bede | 253 |
The Wrongful Heir. Walter Parke | 260 |
Macaulay, T. B. The Quarterly Reviewer parodies him | 234 |
A Page by Macaulay | 234 |
A Bit of Whig his-Tory | 235 |
The next Armada | 235 |
The Age of Lawn-Tennis | 236 |
The Story of Johnnie Armstrong | 236 |
Marryat, Captain. Mr. Midshipman Breezy. Bret Harte | 243 |
The Flying Dutchman. W. E. Aytoun | 232 |
Menagérie, The. Burlesque Lecture by C. Collette | 269 |
Menu. Ministerial Whitebait Dinner, 1878 | 261 |
Menu, by Miss Louisa Alcorn | 262 |
Menu. Capital Club Dinner, 1885 | 262 |
Lady Morgan’s Wild Irish Girl | 254 |
Munchausen, Baron. Ascribed to G. A. Burger | 260 |
Imitations of | 260 |
Office Rules | 268 |
On Farming | 269 |
“Ouida.” Moll Marine. Light Green | 231 |
The Cambridgeshire Stakes | 231 |
Strapmore. F. C. Burnand | 232 |
Bluebottles. Judy | 232 |
Blue-blooded Bertie. Walter Parke | 260 |
Pepys, Samuel. Imitations of his Diary | 260 |
Prescription for feelin’ bad | 262 |
Programmes. Lords Mayor’s Show, 1884 | 262 |
How they’ll open the Inventories | 263 |
Lord Mayor’s Show, 1885 | 264 |
Lord Mayor’s Show, 1886 | 264 |
Play Bill by Rev. Rowland Hill | 265 |
Prospectuses. Imperial Homeless Hotel Company | 266 |
The Glenmutchkin Railway | 266 |
The Gott-up Hotel Company | 266 |
Horse Shoe Hotel Prospectus | 266 |
Quill Toothpick Attachment Company | 267 |
Reade, Charles. A Parody by F. C. Burnand | 260 |
Regulations in the U.S. Navy | 269 |
Reid, Captain Mayne. The Pale Faced Warriors | 244 |
The Skull Hunters. Walter Parke | 244 |
Richardson, Samuel. Joseph Andrews | 257 |
Apology for Shamela Andrews | 257 |
The History of Clorana, 1737 | 257 |
John Ruskin. “That Little Brown-red Butterfly” | 229 |
Mark Twain’s Parody | 230 |
On all Fours Clavigera. Punch | 230 |
On Toothpicks. Shotover Papers | 230 |
Pre-Raffaelitism. Rev. E. Young, 1857 | 231 |
Letter to Chesterfield | 258 |
Letter lo the Richmond Baptists | 258 |
On Usury, a Biblical Parody | 312 |
Scott, Sir Walter. Parodies of his Novels | 260 |
Sketchley, Arthur. Mrs. Brown at Cambridge | 237 |
Smart, Hawley. What’s the Odds? F. C. Burnand | 260 |
Smith, Horace. Whitehall, 1827 | 260 |
Soyer, Alexis. Camp Cookery | 254 |
The Art of Cookery | 254 |
Military Cookery Book. Punch | 254 |
Stephenson R. L., Parodies of | 260 |
Sterne (Laurence). A Sentimental Journey | 209 |
Affecting Appeal | 210 |
The Citizen | 211 |
Fragments in the manner of L. Sterne, and other Imitations | 211 |
Sue Eugene. Sir Brown. Cuthbert Bede | 250 |
Parodie du Juif Errant, and an English Translation | 250 |
Swift, Jonathan. Parodies and Imitations | 261 |
Thackeray, W. M. Parodies of his Novels | 261 |
Trollope, Anthony. Parodies of his Novels | 261 |
Walton, Izaak. The Complete (ly) done Angler | 251 |
The Incompleat Angler | 251 |
Walton’s Angler Imitated | 251 |
Yates, Edmund. “Ba! Ba! Black Sheep” | 261 |
Religious Parodies. | |
No Parodies introduced which have a tendency to ridicule Religion | 288 |
The Protestants Ave Mary, 1689 | 288 |
A Parodie by George Herbert, 1633 | 289 |
Luther’s Parody of the Psalms | 289 |
William Hone’s Three Trials | 289 |
John Wilkes’s Catechism | 289 |
The Political Litany | 291 |
The Sinecurist’s Creed | 293 |
Parodies of the Litany | 294 |
The Book Lover’s Litany | 297 |
Parodies of the Creed of St. Athanasius | 298 |
England’s Te Deum to George III | 301 |
Parodies of the Catechism | 302 |
Imitations of the Lord’s Prayer | 305 |
Parodies of the X Commandments | 305 |
Richard Carlile’s Parodies | 307 |
Administration of Loaves and Fishes | 307 |
Chronicles of the Kings of England | 309 |
Imitations of Biblical Phraseology | 309 |
Blackwood’s Chaldee Manuscript | 310 |
The Bible of the Future | 310 |
The Origin of Species. C. Neaves | 311 |
The Positivists. Mortimer Collins | 311 |
Bibliography of Scriptural Parodies | 312 |
A Dean and a Prebendary | 314 |
Parodies of Hymns | 314 |
God Save the Queen | 315 |
Alexander Pope. | |
Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day | 176 |
Ode to Toast-Master Toole. Punch, 1843 | 177 |
Ode to Lessee Bunn, of Drury Lane | 177 |
Bonnell Thornton’s Burlesque Ode | 178 |
Mock Heroic Poems, Parodies or Imitations of the Dunciad and the Rape of the Lock | 179 |
The Essay on Man. | |
The Essay on Woman | 182 |
Eloisa’s Epistle to Abelard. | |
Eloisa en Déshabille | 182 |
Elegy in an Empty Assembly Room | 183 |
Les Amours d’Abélard et d’Eloise | 183 |
The Rape of the Lock. | |
The Rape of the Smock | 182 |
The Rape of the Bucket | 183 |
The Rape of the Cake | 185 |
Lo! The Poor Indian, whose Untutor’d Mind | 183 |
Lo! the poor Toper | 183 |
Lo! the lean Indian | 183 |
The Universal Prayer | 183 |
Achilles Speech, a Parody of | 184 |
As when the Moon. | |
As when an Alderman | 184 |
Pope’s Prologue to Addison’s “Cato,” Parody of | 185 |
Pope’s Imitations of the early Poets | 186 |
Dante Gabriel Rossetti. | |
The Blooming Damozel | 26 |
Sister Helen. | |
Apple, and Orange, and Nectarine | 70 |
O Mother Carey, Mother! | 70 |
Mother Eve. Mabel Peacock | 70 |
O, Weary Mother, Drive the Cows to Roost | 71 |
A Twilight Fantasy | 71 |
O, for a Brandy and Soda | 71 |
Butter, and Eggs, and a Pound of Cheese. C. S. Calverley | 71 |
Paper, and Pens, and a Bottle of Ink | 72 |
Agriculture’s Latest Rôle. Punch | 72 |
O, the Dinner was Fine to see. Truth | 72 |
I would I were a Cigarette | 73 |
Ah Night! Blind Germ of Days to be | 73 |
A Goodly Balance is Fair to see | 73 |
O, London Town | 74 |
Cimabuella. Bayard Taylor | 74 |
A Legend of Camelot. Punch | 75 |
The Leaf | |
Imitazione | 75 |
De la tige détachée | 75 |
Thou Poor Leaf. Lord Macaulay | 75 |
Remember, by Miss Christina Rossetti | 76 |
Remember it. Judy | 76 |
Ding Dong. The Light Green | 76 |
George R. Sims. | |
Ostler Joe. (By Permission) | 35 |
Teamster Jim. R. J. Burdette | 37 |
“Ostler Joe” and Mrs. J. B. Potter | 37 |
Hustler Jim | 37 |
Billy’s Rose, (By Permission.) | 38 |
Billy’s Nose. F. Rawkins | 39 |
The Lifeboat. | |
The Tricycle. Cassell’s Journal | 39 |
The Terror of Tadger’s Rents | 40 |
Another “Bagonet” Ballad | 40 |
The Ballad Monger | 43 |
Little Flo’. Truth | 43 |
The Coster’s Plea | 44 |
The Lights of London Town | 42 |
Those Wights of London Town | 42 |
The Lights o’ Ascot Heath | 42 |
Sally | 44 |
Christmas Day in the Beer House | 45 |
A Coster’s Conversion | 45 |
Slang, Cant, and Flash Songs. | |
The House Breaker’s Song | 271 |
Nix my Dolly, Pals, Fake away | 271 |
Dear Bill, this Stone Jug | 271 |
The Chick-a-Leary Cove | 272 |
The Thieves’ Chaunt | 272 |
Dartmoor is a tidy place | 272 |
Joe quickly his sand had Sold | 272 |
Millbank for thick shins | 272 |
The Beggar’s Curse (1609) | 273 |
Clear out—Look sharp | 273 |
Frisky Moll’s Song | 273 |
Ye Morts and ye Dells | 274 |
Ode to the King of the Mendicants | 274 |
Oath of the Canting Crew | 274 |
Life and Death of the Darkman’s Budge | 274 |
The Game of High Toby | 275 |
The Double Cross | 275 |
Flash Anecdote, and Translation | 275 |
The Leary Man | 276 |
Song of the Young Prig | 276 |
Death of Socrates | 277 |
’Arry at a Political Picnic | 277 |
Life in Gaol. The Chequers | 279 |
The Twenty Craftsmen | 279 |
Retoure my Dear Dell | 280 |
The Pickpockets’ Chaunt | 280 |
A Cant Handbill | 281 |
W. H. Ainsworth on Slang and Cant | 281 |
The Printer’s Epitaph | 282 |
Books of Reference on Slang and Cant | 282 |
Continental Books on “Argot,” or Slang | 285 |
American and Colonial Slang | 285 |
Algernon Charles Swinburne. | |
Before the Beginning of Years | 1 |
American Parody | 1 |
Before the Beginning of Post | 1 |
Now in the Railway Years | 2 |
For Winter’s Rains and Ruins are Over | 2 |
For Mayfair’s Balls and Ballets are over | 2 |
Dolores and Poems and Ballads | 2 |
When Waters are Rent with Commotion | 2 |
Pain and Travel. Fun | 5 |
Our Lady Champagne. Judy, | 6, 26 |
Mosquitos Again. J. B. Stephens | 6 |
Brandy and Soda. H. Howard | 7 |
Our M.D. of Spain. Punch | 7 |
Octopus. The Light Green | 8 |
Procuratores. Shotover Papers | 8 |
Oh, Vanished Benevolent Bobby | 8 |
Oh, Nymph with the Nicest of Noses | 9 |
O Blood-bitten Lip all Aflame | 16 |
Stylites. Walter Parke | 18 |
Thou Magpie and Stump | 22 |
The Days of the Dunces are Over | 31 |
All pale from the past we draw nigh thee | 33 |
“Disgust,” a Parody of “Despair” | 22 |
O Season supposed of all Free Flowers | 22 |
I trow, Wild Friends. S. K. Cowan | 23 |
Ah! Love, if Love lie still. J. M. Lowry | 23 |
Also Thine Eyes were Mild | 23 |
The God and the Damosel, 1879. The World | 23 |
Soft is the Smell of it | 24 |
I See the Sad Sorrow | 24 |
A. C. Swinburne and Victor Hugo | 25 |
The Pigmy and Portative Horner | 26 |
I Sing of the Months | 27 |
I am the Lady of Shalott | 27 |
Strophes from a Song after Moonrise | 28 |
Is not this the First Lord of Your Choice? | 31 |
The Ballad of Burdens | 3 |
A Burden of Foul Weathers | 3 |
The Burden of Strange Seasons | 4 |
The Burden of Long Fielding | 4 |
The Burden of Hard Hitting | 5 |
The Burden of Old Women | 5 |
How Jack Harris became Æsthetic | 17 |
The Lay of Macaroni. Bayard Taylor | 17 |
To Ada I. Menken. The Tomahawk | 18 |
Parody of A. C. S. by Mortimer Collins | 19 |
“O Cool in the Summer is Salad.” | 19 |
Between the Gate Post and the Gate | 21 |
A Song after Sunset | 21 |
Oh, April Showers | 21 |
“The Heptalogia.” Nephelidia | 21 |
Ballad of Dreamland. | |
I hid my Head on a Rug from Moses | 17 |
The Sorest stress of the Season’s over | 18 |
She hid herself in the Soirée Kettle | 16 |
A Century of Roundels | 25 |
Far-fetched and dear bought | 25 |
What Gain were mine | 25 |
Magician of Song and of Sound | 25 |
A Trio of Roundels | 26 |
March. An Ode | 26 |
Another Ode to March | 27 |
The Commomweal | 29 |
The Question | 29 |
The Answer. The Daily News | 29 |
The “Question” answered. Truth | 29 |
A Match. | |
“If Love were what the Rose is” | 9 |
If You were Queen of Bloaters | 9 |
If Life were never Bitter. M. Collins | 10 |
If you were an Elector. E. Hamilton | 10 |
If you were what your Nose is | 10 |
If I were Big Nat Langham. Punch | 11 |
I am your Dr. Jekyll | 11 |
If it be but a Dream or a Vision | 16 |
If I were Anglo-Saxon. Punch | 20 |
If Love were dhudeen olden | 141 |
The Interpreters | 11 |
Parodies from The Weekly Dispatch | 12 |
Imparadised by my Environment | 13 |
Parody from The Family Herald | 13 |
Home, Sweet Home, à la Swinburne | 13 |
Short Space shall be Hereafter | 14 |
Vaccine after Faustine | 14 |
A Song after Sunset. Judy | 15 |
The Mad, Mad Muse. R. J. Burdette | 15 |
I have made me an End of the Moods | 16 |
Clear the Way! | 30 |
Rail Away! Punch | 30 |
A Word for the Navy | 30 |
A Word for the Poet | 30 |
The Palace of Bric-à-Brac | 32 |
Baby, see the flowers! | 32 |
England, what of the fight? | 32 |
Oh, thy swift, subtle, slanting, services | 32 |
Mr. Swinburne’s prose writings, | 32, 205 |
The Session of the Poets. R. Buchanan | 33 |
Paddy Blake on Swinburne | 34 |
An Utter Passion uttered Utterly. Kottabos | 81 |
Lines on a Dead Dog. College Rhymes | 204 |
The Song of Sir Palamede. H. G. Cone “With flow exhaustless of alliterate words.” | 205 |
Martin Farquhar Tupper. | |
Cuthbert Bede’s Parody | 89 |
The Queen of Oude | 89 |
Beer, that hath entered my head | 90 |
Philosophy of Sausages | 90 |
The Fall of Tupper | 90 |
Going to the Wash | 90 |
Tupper in the Clouds. Andrew Lang | 90 |
The Welcome to the Princess Alexandra | 168 |
Oscar Wilde. | |
Biographical Memoranda | 78 |
Sala on “Requiescat” | 78 |
A Villanelle, after Oscar Wilde | 66 |
There’s Oscar Wylde, that Gifted Chylde | 79 |
What a Shame and what a Pity | 79 |
Narcissus in Camden. The Century | 79 |
Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman | 79 |
Oscar Interviewed. Punch | 80 |
Sainte Margérie. An Imitation | 81 |
Oh, fainting of Lilies with broken stem | 81 |
Meseem’d that Love. Kottabos | 81 |
Consummate Dish! full many an ancient Crack | 81 |
Impressions, by Oscuro Wildegoose | 81 |
A List of Parodies on O. W. | 82 |
The Public House | 82 |
Five-and-Seventy Maidens, free | 82 |
A Barrel of Beer and a Glass of Gin hot | 83 |
Sing hey! Potatoes and Paint. H. C. Waring | 83 |
Arnold, Matthew. The Forsaken Merman | 200 |
The Saturday Review on Arnold’s poems | 200 |
Parody by W. H. Mallock | 200 |
Christmas Thoughts. The World | 201 |
Bloomfield, Robert. The Bishop’s wish. Punch | 192 |
The Pot Boy. C. Thirlwall | 192 |
Butler, Samuel. Parodies and Imitations of Hudibras | 259 |
Calverley, C. S. On the River | 84 |
Collins, Mortimer. The Birds | 19 |
Oh, Summer said to Winter | 206 |
Lady, very fair are you | 206 |
Careless Rhymer, it is True | 206 |
Comic History of England. In verse | 207 |
Cornwall, Barry. The Omnibus | 322 |
Country Quarter Session. Three or Four Parsons | 203 |
Two or three facts | 203 |
Two or three “dears” | 203 |
Crabbe, Rev. G. The Theatre. Rejected Addresses | 94 |
Cross Readings | 287 |
Cumulative Parodies | 270 |
Darwin, Dr. Erasmus. Now stood Eliza | 198 |
Parody on above from Diogenes | 199 |
The Loves of the Plants. The Loves of the Triangles | 199 |
The Loves of the Lowlier Plants | 200 |
Natural Selection. Founded on Darwin | 200 |
Miss, I’ m a Pensive Protoplasm. S. Brooks | 200 |
Parody Epitaph on Darwin | 200 |
Æsthetic School, The | 69 |
Fitzgerald, W. T. Britons to Arms! | 95 |
Loyal Effusion. Rejected Addresses | 96 |
Gay’s “Beggar’s Opera. Parodies of songs in | 198 |
George Barnwell. Parody, Rejected Addresses | 96 |
“Sam,” by Shirley Brooks | 97 |
Heber, Dr. Reginald. From Greenland’s icy Mountains | 98 |
From Cashmere’s icy Mountains | 98 |
Address to Women Missionaries | 98 |
From Chatham’s pleasant Mountains | 99 |
Horaces’s Odes. | |
Buttons you booby. Shirley Brooks | 197 |
On the Commencement of Term | 197 |
Thackeray’s Versions | 198 |
November, 1858 | 198 |
Railway Horace | 198 |
Ingelow, Miss Jean. The Apple-Woman’s Song | 195 |
Calverley’s Parodies of above | 196 |
Lovers, and a Reflection | 196 |
The Shrimp Gatherers. Bayard Taylor | 196 |
The Letter L. Daily News | 197 |
I am Colonel North of the Horse Marines, | |
Financial News | 203 |
Johnson, Dr. Samuel. Ode to a Girl in the Temple, 1777 | 188 |
Parody of Dr. Johnson’s “Prologue” for Drury Lane in 1847 | 188 |
Last Arrival, The. G. W. Cable | 270 |
Leigh, Henry S. The Twins | 100 |
In the Strand. Judy | 100 |
Lorne, Marquis of. Guido and Lita Parodied | 202 |
Lost Chord, The. The Lost Chord. G. R. Sims | 45 |
The Lost Shot. Corporal | 45 |
The Legislative Organ | 128 |
Lyttelton’s Ode, & a Parody by Tobias Smollett | 187 |
Macaronic Poems. The Death of the Sea Serpent | 327 |
Mallet, David. William and Margaret | 91 |
French and Latin Versions | 92 |
Dr. Johnson’s Ghost | 92 |
Giles Scroggin’s Ghost | 93 |
A Polished Version of the same | 93 |
Mock Heroic Poems, and Imitations of the Dunciad | 179 |
Morris, Lewis. The Imperial Institute Ode | 99 |
The Ode as it ought to have been. Truth | 99 |
Poet and Poetaster. The Star | 100 |
Morris, William. The Volsung Tale | 26 |
Behold the Works of W. Morris | 76 |
In the Cushioned Abbey Pew | 76 |
All Sides of the River. Once a Week | 77 |
The Monthly Parodies, after Morris’s “Earthly Paradise.” Gleeson White | 77 |
Nutshell Novels | 202 |
Oldest Classical Burlesque Battle of the Frogs and Mice | 328 |
Patmore, Coventry. The Baby in the House. S. Brooks | 194 |
The Spoons. Puppet Show Album | 195 |
The Person of the House. Heptalogia | 229 |
Poetical Criticism from the Athenæum | 229 |
Pygmalion; or, the Statue Fair. Hornet | 326 |
Rowe, Nicholas. Colin’s Complaint | 186 |
Corydon Querens | 186 |
A Parody by George Canning | 187 |
Bow Bells. Henry S. Leigh | 187 |
Scott, Clement W. The Women of Mumble’s Head. The Wreck of the steamship “Puffin” | 46 |
A Tale of the 10th Hussars, and a Parody on it | 46 |
The Garden of Sleep | 46 |
Scott, Sir Walter. Paddy Dunbar. (Young Lochinvar) | 161 |
O’Shaughnessy. Arthur W. E. | |
Blue Moonshine. F. G. Stokes | 83 |
Frangipanni. Judy | 83 |
On the River | 84 |
Spenser, Edmund. List of works written in the Spenserian stanza. J. Bouchier | 189 |
The Alley. Alexander Pope | 189 |
The Holidayer. Funny Folks | 189 |
Sterry J. Ashby. Georgy | 84 |
The Muse in Manacles | 64 |
Swift, Jonathan. The State Coach | 190 |
The Happy Life of a Country Parson. A. Pope | 191 |
The Logicians Refuted. O. Goldsmith | 191 |
A New Simile. O. Goldsmith | 191 |
Tennyson, Alfred. King Arthur, growing very tired | 20 |
The Cigar-Smokers | 142 |
Nicotina. (Oriana) | 144 |
The Weed. (The Brook) | 145 |
“Vernon Avick.” Song on Sir W. Vernon Harcourt | 34 |
Watts, Dr. How Doth the Nasty Dirty Man | 138 |
’Twas the Voice of the Doctor | 138 |
White, Henry Kirke. It is not that my Lot is low | 188 |
It is not that my “Place” was low | 188 |
Wilson’s Isle of Palms, imitated by James Brown | 192 |
This book was written in a period when many words had not become standardized in their spelling. Words may have multiple spelling variations, inconsistent hyphenation, or non-standard use of apostrophes. These have been left unchanged unless indicated below.
Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, upside down, unprinted or partially printed letters, were corrected. Final stops missing at the end of sentences and abbreviations were added. Duplicate letters at line endings or page breaks were removed. Numbers 11. and 12. were added to Les Commandements de la Presse.
Unprinted diacriticals were added to words in languages other than English. The use of quotation marks is not standard, and generally was not changed unless needed for clarity. Extraneous punctuation was deleted.
Footnotes were renumbered sequentially and were moved to the end of the book. There are two anchors for Footnote [47]. Anchors for [286] and [322] were unprinted; anchors were added where they may belong.
The St. James’s Street ballad and its parody are presented in sequence, not side by side.
Spelling corrections: