PARODIES

OF THE WORKS OF

ENGLISH and AMERICAN AUTHORS,

COLLECTED AND ANNOTATED BY

WALTER HAMILTON,

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.

“We maintain that, far from converting virtue into a paradox, and degrading truth by ridicule, Parody will only strike at what is chimerical and false; it is not a piece of buffoonery so much as a critical exposition. What do we parody but the absurdities of writers, who frequently make their heroes act against nature, common-sense, and truth? After all, it is the public, not we, who are the authors of these Parodies.”

D’Israeli’s Curiosities of Literature.

VOLUME II.

CONTAINING PARODIES OF

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,

JOHN MILTON, JOHN DRYDEN, DR. WATTS,

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON,

H. W. LONGFELLOW, THOMAS HOOD, BRET HARTE,

MATTHEW ARNOLD,

E. A. POE, WOLFE’S ODE, AND “MY MOTHER”

REEVES & TURNER, 196, STRAND, LONDON, W.C.
1885.

“It was because Homer was the most popular poet, that he was most susceptible of the playful honours of the Greek parodist; unless the prototype is familiar to us, a parody is nothing!”

Isaac D’Israeli.

“La Parodie, fille ainée de la Satire, est aussi ancienne que la poésie méme. Il est de l’essence de la Parodie de substituer toujours un nouveau sujet & celui qu’on parodie; aux sujets sérieux, des sujets légers et badins, en employant autant que possible, les expressions de l’auteur parodié.”

Traité des Belles-Lettres sur la Poésie Française, par M. le Père de Montespin,

(Jesuite) Avignon, 1747.

BROWN & DAVENPORT, 40, SUN STREET, FINSBURY, LONDON, E.C.

hen this Collection was originally projected it was intended to publish a few only of the best Parodies of each author. After the issue of the first few numbers, however, the sale rapidly increased, and subscribers not only expressed their desire that the collection should be made as nearly complete as possible, but by the loans of scarce books, and copies of Parodies, helped to make it so.

This involved an alteration in the original arrangement, and as it would have been monotonous to have filled a whole number with parodies of one short poem, such as those on “To be or not to be,” “Excelsior,” “My Mother” or Wolfe’s Ode, it became necessary to spread them over several numbers: In the Index, which has been carefully prepared, references will be found, under the titles of the original Poems, to all the parodies mentioned. In all cases, where it has been possible to do so, full titles and descriptions of the works quoted from, have been given; any omission to do this has been unintentional, and will be at once rectified on the necessary information being supplied.

By the completion of the second Volume of my collection, the works of the following Authors have been fully treated, William Shakespeare, John Milton, John Dryden, Dr. Watts, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, H. W. Longfellow, Thomas Hood, Bret Harte, Matthew Arnold, E. A. Poe, Wolfe’s Ode on the Death of Sir John Moore, and Miss Ann Taylor’s poem “My Mother.” Certainly most of the best parodies on these Authors have been collected, yet as new ones are constantly appearing, a further collection of them will appear in a future part of Parodies, which will also contain any good old parodies that may hitherto have escaped notice.

In a few cases where parodies are to be found in easily accessible works, extracts only have been quoted, or references given; but it is intended in future, wherever permission can be obtained, to give the parodies in full, as they are found to be useful for public entertainments, and recitations. When the older masters of our Literature are reached, a great deal of curious and amusing information will be given, and it is intended to conclude with a complete bibliographical account of Parody, with extracts and translations from all the principal works on the topic. Whilst arranging the first and second volumes, I have been gathering materials for those to come, which will illustrate the works of those old writers whose names are familiar in our mouths as household words. Much that is quaint and amusing will thus be collected, whilst many illustrations of our literature, both in prose and verse, which are valuable to the student, will for the first time be methodically arranged, annotated, and published in a cheap and accessible form.

In all Collections, such as this, there are some pieces which offend the taste, or run counter to the prejudice of some individual reader, but great care has been taken to exclude every parody of a vulgar or slangy description, although it need hardly be said that many such parodies exist.

Every effort has been made to avoid giving preference to the parodies of any Political party, and this could only be done by inserting the poems on their own merits. If any good Political Parody has been omitted, ignorance of its existence, not party motive, has been the cause.

I am much indebted to the following gentlemen either for permission to quote from their works, or for copies of parodies sent to me for publication:--Messrs. P. J. Anderson, of Aberdeen; A. H. Bates, of Birmingham; W. Butler; George Cotterell (Author of the “Banquet”); T. F. Dillon-Croker; F. B. Doveton; James Gordon, F.S.A., of Edinburgh; John H. Ingram; Walter Parke (author of “The Lays of the Saintly”); F. B. Perkins, of the Free Public Library, San Francisco; W. Smith, of Morley, near Leeds; Basil H. Soulsby, Corpus Christi, Oxford; Joseph Verey; John Whyte; J. W. Gleeson White; and A. R. Wright. The following ladies have also sent me some amusing parodies:--Miss E. Orton; Mrs. S. A. Wetmore of New York State; and Mrs. J. E. Whitby. My best thanks are also due to Mr. Walsh, and his courteous assistants in the Guildhall Library of the City of London, as well as to the gentlemen in the Library of the British Museum.

WALTER HAMILTON.

64, Bromfelde Road, Clapham, London, S.W.

December, 1885.

CONTENTS OF PARTS I. to XXIV. PARODIES.

EACH PART MAY BE PURCHASED SEPARATELY.

NOTES AND CORRECTIONS.

The Parody of “The Village Blacksmith,” on [page 9], signed Sphinx, was written by Mr. W. Sappe, of Forest Hill.

Foot Note, page 112.—Mr. Artemus Ward is here credited with the advice “Never to prophecy unless you know,” an Aberdeen correspondent points out that Mr. R. Lowell was the real author, the phrase occurs in “The Biglow Papers:”—

My gran’ther’s rule was safer’n’t is to crow,

Don’t never prophesy—onless ye know.

[Page 232]. Milton’s Epitaph on W. Shakespeare, the fourth line should read:—

“Under a star y-pointing pyramid.”

[Page 24.] Read Charles Baudelure, not Beaudelaire.

[Page 219]. Wine, a Poem. The Copy of this old poem in the Editor’s possession, was published anonymously in 1702. It has been ascribed to John Gay, who was born in 1688, the poem is certainly a remarkable production for a youth of twenty-one.

INDEX.

The authors of the original poems are arranged in alphabetical order; the titles of the original poems are printed in small capitals, followed by the Parodies, the authors of which are named wherever possible.

Bret Harte.

Dickens in Camp.

Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting,

The river sang below;

The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting

Their minarets of snow.

The roaring camp-fire, with rude humour, painted

The ruddy tints of health

On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted

In the fierce race for wealth;

Till one arose, and from his pack’s scant treasure

A hoarded volume drew,

And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure

To hear the tale anew;

And then, while round them shadows gathered faster,

And as the firelight fell,

He read aloud the book wherein the Master

Had writ of “Little Nell.”

Perhaps ’twas boyish fancy,—for the reader

Was youngest of them all,—

But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar

A silence seemed to fall;

The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows,

Listened in every spray,

While the whole camp, with “Nell” on English meadows,

Wandered and lost their way.

And so in mountain solitudes—o’ertaken

As by some spell divine—

Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken

From out the gusty pine.

Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire:

And he who wrought that spell?—

Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire,

Ye have one tale to tell!

Lost is that camp! but let its fragrant story

Blend with the breath that thrills

With hop-vines’ incense all the pensive glory

That fills the Kentish hills.

And on that grave where English oak and holly

And laurel wreaths intwine,

Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,—

This spray of Western pine!

Bret Harte.

July, 1870.

Parodies in Print.

Among the books the gloom was darkly drifting,

The writer’s spirits low;

The duller serials, and the weeklies, lifting

But melodies of woe.

The older authors, with rude humour, painted

The glowing fun of health

Now lost in dreary prose, jokes died or fainted

In sterner race for wealth;

Till one arose, and from the past’s great treasure

Of hundred volumes drew,

A scheme to tap the hoard untold of pleasure

And bid it flow anew;

And so the parodies unearthed grew vaster,

Than ever one could tell,

All mimicking some mighty poet Master,

In many a sprightly “Sell.”

Perhaps ’tis too fond fancy,—that the reader

Should leave the weeklies all,

Let Punch go prosing, scorn the D. T. leader,

And let Police News pall;

While ’mid these gambols of poetic shadows,

Listening to bygone play,

As each mad parody evokes the glad “Ohs!”

(As Browning p’raps would say).

See Tennyson, in mighty verse—o’ertaken,

Mimicked in tripping line—

When jokes from Longfellow, so grave, are shaken

Like gush in penny-a-line.

To find in rush of their poetic fire,

A comic theme told well,

While stately verse, and song, and culture higher,

Are used some joke to tell.

Lost be that scamp, who would no funny story

Tell in the rhyme that thrills

Like farthing rushlight posing as the glory

Of sun o’er ancient hills.

If, in the crowd of puppets, some poor dolly

Should ape a bard sublime,

Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly—

To jest is not a crime.

J. W. G. W.

November, 1884.

That Hebrew Ben D——
House of Lords, January, 1878.

Which I wish to remark—

And my language is plain—

That for ways that are dark,

And for tricks that are vain,

The Hebrew Ben D—— is peculiar,

Which the same I would like to explain.

I have mentioned his name,

And I shall not deny,

In regard to the same

He is wary and sly;

And his smile it is mocking and ice-like

And there isn’t no green in his eye.

Now, some rumours had spread,

Which Ben D—— could not burke,

And every one said

He’d been at his old work.

(It was strange, you must know, how he doated

Upon the “Unspeakable Turk.”)

It was Gran-Vil who rose,

And quite soft was his style;

But you must not suppose

That he hasn’t no guile;

Yet D—— played it that day upon Gran Vil

In a way that made most of them smile.

Which some questions he’d brought,

And Ben rose—as ’twas planned—

To reply. What was sought

He did well understand;

But he smiled, as he stood at the table,

With a smile that was artfully bland.

How he trifled with sense,

You would scarcely believe;

And with cunning intense,

Fancy statements did weave:

Whilst he kept back his facts by the dozen,

And the same, with intent to deceive.

Yes, the tricks that were play’d

By that Hebrew, Ben D——,

And the points that he made

Were quite shocking to me;

Till at last he sat down amid laughter,

And chuckling himself, I could see.

Then up sprang Ar-Gyle,

With his hair flowing free,

And he gave a wild snort,

And said, “Shall this be?

We are humbugged by Asian myst’ries,

And he went for that Hebrew, Ben D——.

Which the war-dance he had

Was exciting to watch,

Though I feared, lest too mad,

His job he might botch,

For he whooped, and he raved, and he ranted;—

You see he’s so pepp’ry and Scotch.

Still, the scene that ensued

Was uncommonly grand,

For the floor it was strewed,

Like the leaves on the strand,

With the facts that Ben D—— had been hiding,

The facts “He did well understand.”

For his head, which is long,

Contained facts by the score;

Which, with effort so strong,

Ar-Gyle out of it tore;

Till Ben D——, if he has any feelings,

Must have, morally, felt very sore.

Which expressions is strong,

Yet but feebly imply

What I think of the wrong—

Not to call it a lie—

As was worked off by Benjy on Gran-Vil,

Which he can’t go for it to deny.

Which is why I remark—

And my language is plain—

That for ways that are dark,

And tricks that are vain,

The Hebrew Ben D—— is peculiar,

Which the same I am bold to maintain.

Truth, January 31, 1878.

The Aged Stranger.
(An Incident of the War).

“I was with Grant—” the stranger said,

Said the farmer, “Say no more,

But rest thee here at my cottage porch,

For thy feet are weary and sore.”

“I was with Grant—” the stranger said;

Said the farmer, “Nay, no more,—

I prithee sit at my frugal board.

And eat of my humble store.

“How fares my boy,—my soldier boy,

Of the Old Ninth Army Corps?

I warrant he bore him gallantly

In the smoke and the battle’s roar!”

“I know him not,” said the aged man,

“And, as I remarked before,

I was with Grant—” “Nay, nay, I know,”

Said the farmer, “Say no more;

“He fell in battle,—I see alas!

Thou’dst smooth these tidings o’er,—

Nay: speak the truth, whatever it be,

Though it rend my bosom’s core.

“How fell he,—with his face to the foe,

Upholding the flag he bore?

O, say not that my boy disgraced

The uniform that he wore!”

“I cannot tell,” said the aged man,

“And should have remarked, before,

That I was with Grant,—in Illinois,—

Some three years before the war.”

Then the farmer spake him never a word,

But beat with his fist full sore

That aged man, who had worked for Grant

Some three years before the war.

Bret Harte.

The following parody appeared in Jon Duan, one of Beeton’s Christmas Annuals. The original poem refers to General Ulysses S. Grant, President of the United States; the parody is in allusion to Mr. Albert Grant, M.P., who presented Leicester Square to the public in July, 1874, and whose name was then prominently before the public in connection with numerous financial schemes:—

“I was with Grant.”

“I was with Grant——” the stranger said;

Said McDougal, “Say no more,

But come you in—I have much to ask—

And please to shut the door.”

“I was with Grant——” the stranger said;

Said McDougal, “Nay, no more,—

You have seen him sit at the Emma Board?

Come, draw on your mem’ry’s store.

“What said my Albert—my Baron brave,

Of the great financing corps?

I warrant he bore him scurvily

’Midst the interruption’s roar!”

“No doubt he did,” said the stranger then;

“But, as I remarked before,

I was with Grant——” “Nay, nay, I know,”

Said McDougal; “but tell me more.”

“He’s presented another square!—I see,

You’d smooth the tidings o’er—

Or started, perchance, more Water-works

On the Mediterranean shore?

“Or made the Credit Foncier pay,

Or floated a mine with ore?

Oh, tell me not he is pass’d away

From his home in Kensington Gore!”

“I cannot tell,” said the unknown man,

“And should have remarked before,

That I was with Grant—Ulysses, I mean—

In the great American war.”

Then McDougal spake him never a word,

But beat, with his fist, full sore

The stranger who’d been with Ulysses Grant,

In the great American war.

Jon Duan, 1874.

Plain Language from Truthful Robert.
(With Apologies to Bret Harte’s “Truthful James.”)