VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY
i*iy^:v;iJ-'
5S5if»v*, ( AMFORNl,
J y //// SAiMA liAUBAllA
' ^ ^ PREFACE.
To mingle the instructive and the amusing, in fit
and fair proportion, is no easy task, but this is
what the author of the present Httle volume has
aimed at. Goethe, not without a certain uncon-
scious self-revelation, said sneeringly of parody: " I
have never concealed what an implacable enemy I
am to all parody and travesty ; but it is only on
this account that I am so, because this base brood
pulls down the noble, the beautiful, the great, in
order to make an end of them." Notwithstanding
the sneer of so great a master, the author believes
that, when viewed in a proper spirit, parody may
be both instructive and amusing. When some part
of the portion here given on that subject appeared
in the BritisJi Quarterly Review, it was received
with peculiar favour ; the Spectator remarking :
" There is some admirable criticism in ' Parody and
Parodists.' We have never seen the real nature
of parody better defined." The author trusts that
none of his kindly critics may have any reason
now to change their opinion of the essays of which
they before spoke so favourably.
H. A. Page.
London, August 28, 1881.
CONTENTS.
Vers de Soci6t£ and Parody .... i
Wit and Humour and Poetry - - - - 127
Epitaphs 134
Science and Poetry 164
The Ant as a Moralist 167
Scientific Cruelty -..-.. 176
Robert Burns as a Celt 191
Madame de Stael 203
Shakespeare and the Bible ... - 214
A Suggestion about Buddhism . - - - 220
George Herbert's Love of Nature - - 225
PRINTED BY BOWERS BROTHERS,
), BI.ACKFRIAKS ROAD, LONDON, S.E.
VERS DE SOCIAtA AND PARODY.
Artificial forms of society inevitably develop
artificial forms of literature. As the comparative
anatomist reconstructs a whole animal from a tooth
or a toe-bone, so the philosophical speculator or
the skilful critic may guess at the most complex
conditions of life from a song or even a versicle.
This service has been rendered by Mr. James
Davies in his studies of Tibullus, Catullus, and
Propertius ; and Horace and Juvenal have yielded
worlds to scholars like Conington and Sellar. The
same problems, we may well believe, will remain
for future workers in reference to our time. They
will, perhaps, guess more efficiently at our manners
and our modes of thought, at the pastimes of our
lighter hours, and our airiest talk " across the
walnuts and the wine," by reference to the verses
of Praed and Locker, Mortimer Collins, Calverley^
2 VERS DE SOCIAtA AND PARODY.
Tom Hood, Austin Dobson, and their confreres,
than by study of sterner literature. It is only
preparing the way, by a very slight stage, if we
endeavour at present to make clear to ourselves the
action and functions of two forms of artificial
literature — that of Parody and Society- Verse, —
on which it is quite certain that some characteristics
of our day have specially impressed themselves, as
is testified by the great demand for such pro-
ductions. And if it should seem to any reader
that wc venture on themes too light and frivolous,
then we have simply to reply that if, as we have
already suggested, the reader will but project his
soul far enough forward, and look at matters present
as if they were distant, he may, if he pleases, be
philosophic enough in his meditations.
I. — Parody and Society-Verse Contrasted.
Society-verses and Parody are the products of
similar conditions — the craving for relief from the
graver and more irksome concerns of life, by which
they are nevertheless necessarily tinged. They are
VERS DE SOCIAtA AND PARODY. 3
alike safety-valves from preoccupations that might
else be fatal, and indicate some failure of the re-
sources open to those who lead simpler lives. They
run to some extent alongside each other, but they
:lean very different ways in their ultimate drift.
Most of their points of affinity are found through
form, very few through substance. To be successful,
both the parodist and the writer of Vers de Socictc
must have faculties for metre carefully exercised, a
dainty facility in catching the flow of favourite
xhythms, and considerable familiarity with what in
these respects has been already accomplished. Both,
too, must be careful not to rise above a certain level
of familiar forms, else to both alike one element of
.attractiveness, through association, will inevitably
be lost.
The writer of Vers de Soci^te may thus be said to
stand ever on the verge of the field of Parody ; but
one of his chief merits may be said to lie in neatly
tripping along the very boundary-line and never
tumbling over. For Parody lies confessedly on a
lower level of art. The parodist pure and simple
is not a maker at all. To steal an image from the
field of science, we may say that he is a kind of
parasite, that exists only by reason of what strength
remains to the orranism to which he has attached
4 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
himself. The writer of Vers de Societc concerns
himself with real affections, whims, affectations,
caprices, lightly-scornful contradictions, little inno-
cent pretences and hypocrisies, whose saucy non-
chalance and dainty grace are their justification. He
deals with love as a sort of secondary sentiment,
that can easily surrender itself to propriety ; he
exposes the point where manner and courtesy scathe
the higher passion and cause it to retire with an
accompanying ripple of subdued laughter. A de-
licious scorn, a playfulness that is occasionally
tender, only in order to give the more effect to
graceful airy satire — that is his characteristic. But
his strength lies in this, that he seeks to picture a
world that has its counterpart in reality. His deli-
cate scorn may veil deep feeling. He must be a
master of innocent disguises. He will tell no secret
if he can help it, and yet he often confesses to us,
when concealing the stirrings of the heart, by the
surprises of a happy banter. He will hide a tear as
he points a jest ; or by the expedient of a clever
conceit he will divert us from the suggestion of the
grave and painful problems clearly realized. His
very raillery not seldom reveals a glimpse of the
serious side of things by the passion it is fain to
hide. The writer of Vers de Socie'te is ironical, but
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 5
he should never be cruelly so. His first ambition
ought to be to please and to divert ; and if he can-
not do this without any real injury to the bloom of
the better feelings, then he has failed in a prime
requisite of his art. The following Rondeau, which
appeared in one of our hebdomadal Humorists,
pretty fairly expresses this principle, though it did
not have strictly in view Society-verses, when it was
■written : —
Fair reader of our comic page,
'Mid pun, and joke, and sarcasm crushing,
There's nothing in it will engage
To set your pure, sweet face a-flushing.
There's kindly word for honest men.
There's keen contempt for paltry duffers.
Who take to throwing mud ; but then
Their skin it is — not ours — that suffers.
For laugh and chaff and decent jest,
For wisdom mad, and folly sage.
Here you may safely be addressed
Fair reader of our comic page.
The world of the writer of Society- Verse is thus
no counterfeit one, however conventional it may
seem. It has its own laws, and these guide and
6 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
govern his ideal. He must be well bred ; his
humour must not entangle itself in alien imagery.
It is pre-eminently a self-contained world, and his
muse must close her eyes to what is in itself simple
and universal. No great thought, no mighty
image, that seems magnet-wise to select and draw
to itself all that is kindred from the widest contrasts-
of circumstance, must he indulge in. That would
be to spoil the tone that ought to obtain — the tone
of urban polish and perfect self-restraint. He
must, in view of this, fetter his muse, though it be
with silk : if she move not the more nimbly with
such fetters, he has mistaken his vocation. He
must be dainty, full of verbal resource, fanciful, and
true so far as he goes ; but never so deeply in
earnest as not easily to glide into an opposing
mood, nor careful to do aught more than cause to
lift the eyelid, shrug the shoulder, raise a well-bred
smile. To laugh outright were too much.
The parodist, again, is concerned merely to raise
as loud a laugh as he can, by bringing a trivial idea
and a great one (or one that his original aimed at
making great) into sudden and unexpected col-
lision, clothed as near as may be in the same dress.
He is a harlequin, who dances for a moment in the
tragedian's costume. He would be of no con-
VERS DE SOCIETY AND PARODY. 7
sequence in himself, had he not somehow got access
to that costume. But he has got access to it, and
he manoeuvres so oddly that we cannot help for the
moment admiring his dexterity, though now and
then, even as we laugh, we cannot escape a passing
twinge of regret that we shall hereafter recall his
wry faces, and funny nods and becks and grins^
when next we see the master himself on the stage.
One pleasure is apt to cancel or to lessen another.
If we enjoy the parody a little is taken from the
poem. A new association has inwoven itself with
its metre, its movement, its rhythm and something
is lost.
The parodist has thus two things to be on his
guard against. He needs, in view of immediate
impression, to emphasize a mannerism, a catch-
word, a favourite turn or a trick of metre — this lies
in the conception of his sphere of work — and yet
to do no real despite to the general spirit which
chiefly it must be that lifts his original into the
position which justifies his being parodied. Under
his satirical or off-taking temper should be apparent
a wider tolerance, an admiring affection, a certain
enthusiasm held in reserve. Without this. Parody
must ever tend to become mean, personal, and
truculent
8 VEJ^S BE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
This point was admirably illustrated by the
brothers Horace and James Smith, in relation to
their own parodies of Wordsworth. As their
purpose in reference to this poet had by several
critics been seriously misconceived, they distinctly
stated in the preface to their second edition that no
man could hold a higher opinion of Wordsworth's
great poetic gifts, or entertain a deeper reverence for
his teachings and character. They had therefore,
they urged, abstained from parodying his loftier
efforts on principle, devoting themselves entirely to
carrying innocently into exaggeration the affected
simplicity and bald conceits of the most affected
and conceited of his ballads as they regarded
them. If they erred in any individual case, the
principle was clear.
The other thing we have referred to is that the
parodist ought to have regard to the language in
which he works — that it may suffer no serious pre-
judice through his exercises. This is an important
point which cannot be too distinctly emphasized.
Anybody of decent education can write what will
roughly sound as an imitation of a favourite poem :
the true parodist should deepen our respect for his
author even as he raises the laugh at him, as it is well
known that we cannot laugh kindlily and heartily
VERS DE SOC/ETA AND PARODY. 9
at u hat we do not love. And if it may in one sense
be said, as it has been said, that the parodist is not
bound to have in view any real world whatever —
here is a standard up to which he ought to work.
Even the parodist is not a wild poet,
that works
Without a conscience or an aim ;
but is subject to a clear law, moral and distinct.
Yet we allow that his immediate end is merely
amusing verbal contrast. If he gives us more than
this it is beyond the bargain. He then approves
himself something of a poet too. If he allows a
free creative humour to steal in, he simply risks
thus the reducing of the force that may be gained
by emphasis of merely external peculiar'tlis^which
is primarily his business as parodist. And herein
lies, as we conceive, the critical test of true Parody.
It has been very well said : — "The first function of
the parodist is to exaggerate obvious peculiarities —
to flash a light upon them ; to make out of them
what he calls ' points,' by twisting them to new and
surprising results of his own. Therefore in Parody
you can only produce the mere fringe of the mere
garment of art. That mode which is born of mood
you cannot touch. This is what makes Parody an
lo VERS DE SOCI^TE AND PARODY.
unsatisfactory line of work to a true poet — to him
whose artistic instinct and yearning after perfection
are stronger than common, and who knows that,
unless his mimicry is deeper than Parody allows, it
is superficial and puerile after all." This goes a
good way towards the truth, but not altogether.
Parody, if we view it in the light of usefulness,
may be regarded as a defence against mannerism
and oddity on the part of those who have privilege,
and might abuse it by too extreme indulgence in
outward peculiarities. In this respect, as we shall
see, it may be a corrective and an aid in the midst of
artificial conditions such as alone could sustain it.
It thus comes about that, though the delicacy
and graceful reserve and self-restraint which the
writer of Vers de Societe endeavours to attain as
respects form might tempt him to exercises in
Parody, he will generally, for a deeper reason,
eschew it ; and this because the very necessity
of emphasizing and rendering ridiculous what is
most characteristic in other men's writing would
tend to encourage a false emphasis. In no instance,
perhaps, is this better illustrated than in one or two
specimens to be found in the "Boudoir Ballads"
of Mr. Ashby-Sterry — a point which will be made
generally appreciable by a few stanzas from his
VERS JDE SOCIAtA AND PARODY. ir
poems, in which the echo of another note at once
steals away from the unity of effect, while he
is precipitated into verbal vulgarity, in spite of his
clever alliterations and exceptional rhythms. Here
are the stanzas : —
O the vision of girlish distresses,
The pitiful pouting of pets !
As they chat over " knock-about " dresses,
And talk over thick ulsterettes.
Ah ! the chorus of maidens ecstatic,
Who long for the Chamouni pines ;
For a glimpse of the blue Adriatic,
Or sight of the rich Apennines.
O the picture of packing and pleasure,
The flutter that reigns in the nest ;
And the mixture of labour and leisure —
The days full of bustle and rest.
As the queen of the flitting unravels
New plans for the pluming of wings ;
Or perchance slumbers o'er "Tiny Travels,"
Or sweetly " The Vagabond " sings.
Will you dream 'neath a snowy umbrella,
With Tauchnitz, each hot afternoon ?
Will you go to the Isola Bella,
Or row by the light of the moon ?
Will you lounge 'neath the pink oleander,
Comparing this year with the last ?
Will e'er less (!) in the garden meander,
And think with regret of the past !
12 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
But it hardly needs to be said that Mr. Ashby-
Sterry is not at his best there ; but in quite other
and simpler efforts, such as this : —
NUMBER ONE.
Tortrait of a Young Lady, " No. i" in a CoUccfion of
Ofie thousand five hundred and eighty-three workSy
at the Exhibition of the Royal Academy.
My favourite, you must know,
In the Piccadilly show,
Is the portrait of a lass
Bravely done.
'Mid the fifteen eighty-three
Works of art that you may see,
There is nothing can surpass
"Number One."
Very far above the line
Is this favourite of mine ;
You may see her smiling there
O'er the crowds.
If you bring a good lorgnette,
You may see my dainty pet,
Like the Jungfrau, pink and fair,
'Mid the clouds.
My enchanting little star,
How I wonder what you are.
With your rosy laughing lips
Full of fun.
Have you many satellites,
Do you shine so bright o' nights
That there's nothing can eclipse
"Number One."
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 13
I sincerely envy him
Who the fortune had to Umn
Your bewitching hazel eyes
With his brush ;
^Vho could study every grace
In your winsome little face,
And the subtle charm that lies
In your blush.
If I knew but your papa
Could I only " ask mamma,"
It is clear indeed to me
As the sun
That thro' all this weary life,
'Mid its pleasure, pain, and strife.
All my care and love should be
" Number One."
II. — Vers de Societe.
Mr. Tom Hood, in his admirable little essay on
Vers de Societe, well points out that the term
Society-Verse scarcely expresses what is meant by
the French term, — and that it is unfortunate \vc
have no better. He opposes Society in this con-
nection, not to the million, but to solitude. He
M VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
goes on to add : — " It belongs to social, every-day
life, and is written by, and written for, * men of the
world.' It is rather the elegant and polished treat-
ment of some topic of interest than the lofty and
removed contemplation of some extensive theme."
This definition may be accepted as fair, though not
absolutely exhaustive ; for surely in good Society-
Verse there should be much for others beside what
are strictly to be denominated " men of the world."
Mr. Locker, and Mr. Austin Dobson, and Mr.
Calverley might well object to this prima facie
narrowing of their audience from which matrons
and maidens are alike cruelly excluded, though
doubtless they form a large part of the audience so
■deeply desired by Society-poets ! Mr. Tom Hood's
arbitrary limitation in his definition is the more
■extraordinary and unaccountable in that he, at a
later part, claims an element of humanity " and
permanence of interest" for all true Society-Verse —
only it must be half-disguised — veiled in "wreathed
smiles andbecks and nods." Like Thackeray, who
did some fine things in this way, the Society- Verse
writer "laughs over some things because he does
not want you to notice that he is crying ! " A
-great point lies here. The pathetic and serious
element is essential to the writer of Society- Verse ;
VEJiS DE SOCIETA AND PARODY. 15
his speciality lies not in any definable elements
distinguishing him from the poet pure and simple ;
but in his mode of expression, which may, so far,
be an accident.
True humour and cynicism are inconsistent with
each other. Your true cynic is a sceptic also. He
is distrustful by nature, suspicious, he scorns Man
not because he has fallen below himself, but be-
cause he can rise no higher : Byron, for example,
in his most sardonic moods, puts himself outside
the circle, no matter how clever and ingenious
he is. Humour of the truest quality always rests
on a foundation of belief in something better than
it sees, and its laugh is a sad one at the awkward
contrast between man as he is, and man as he
might be. In a word, the humorist has an ideal by
which all is brought to test. The true writer
of Society- Verse is saved from cynicism by the
necessity to remain a humorist. Wit alone will not
suffice him. He must, in some degree, excite the
sensibilities and unconsciously raise the ideal by
the mere administration of pleasurable impulse :
the suggestion of new relations and affinities in
hfe. He does not commit himself to definite
standards, still he seeks to widen the sympathies.
As Parody stands ever on the border of the
1 6 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Vers de Societe field, and loses its true identity
if it over-passes the boundary ; so Vers de Societe
itself ever tends to lose its true characteristics
under a kind of necessary law of ascent. By this
is meant that the artificial atmosphere of Society-
Verse proper can only be held in relation to the
poet, for musical and artistic ends, by his ever and
anon drawing an inspiration from a field above
it. Else it would become merely conventional and
artificial, and as such it would be repudiated by
the world it professedly paints, which also needs
elevation, escape from its own pre -occupations
in a thinly -veiled ideal image of them. Thus he
must rise, and must lift up the reader, even while
he seems merely to skim along a very determinate
plane. All the best writers of Vers de SociHe
have been also, in their measure, true poets, which
means that they often wrote what is more than
Vers de Societe when they professed to write no
more than that. There is thus a line to be drawn
critically and theoretically between a certain order
of poetry proper and Vers de Soci^td, but it is very
hard to draw it in practice. One who knows the
subject well has written :
" The primary meaning of the term Vers de
Societd is, I take it, that the verses referred to
VERS DE SOCIETE AND FARODY. 17
treat * of the doings of persons who move in the
artificial atmosphere which is known as ' Society ; '
for example, the verses of Praed — or what people
mean by the verses of Praed — 'My own Araminta,'
and ' The Belle of the Ball,' but I do not even know
that ' The Vicar ' and ' Quince ' strictly come under
the class. According to this standard, very little
of the work of Mr. Austin Dobson, a section only of
that of Mr. Locker and Mr. Calverley, comes under
the definition. The rest is minor poetry, more often
tinged with humour, but not necessarily Vej's de
Societe. 'Verses of Humanity ' would be better:
but directly we get this, we use a term applicable
to much so-called modern poetry."
But wherever you have a true poet at work, e\'en
in the artificial atmosphere of Society- Verse, he
will embue it with touches which properly lift it
above the merely artificial plane. For example, is
Mr. Austin Dobson's " Incognita " Vers de Societe,
or minor poetry of a high order? We hold it is
both, just as we hold that Thackeray's best efforts
are both ; and that whenever you begin to draw
a hard line, you must break the poems in halves.
* Yes ; but they treat of them in a specific way, that is fancifully
or imaginatively, not merely with elegance or wit, though elegance
and wit may be brought to the service.
B
1 8 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
A hard-and-fast line cannot really be drawn with
any hope of finality, or even efficiency.
Society-Verse, in our sense of it, includes certain
products of all polished times, which become fully
or imaginatively realisable only through experience,
more or less direct, of similar conditions. Anacreon
in Greek very frequently, Theocritus sometimes, is
in the mood. Petrarch once or twice in his sonnets
approaches to it, and oftener in his earlier odes,
notwithstanding the affected depth of his passion for
Laura, which should have so steadied his flight as
to prevent all playful curvings and circlings and
billings and cooings of the Society- Verse kind.
Yet he now and then gains fine effect and relief
from' slipping into a truly playful vein. What, for
instance, shall we say to the 5th and the loth
Sonnets, not to go any further ? Here are free
renderings of them for the reader's benefit, should
he not read Italian : —
When moved by sighs I call thee by the name
That in my heart is written fair of Love,
LAUd-like it sounds, of sweetest accents wove,
As my fond tongue begins the word to frame.
Your REgal state that next asserts its claim
Doubles my courage the emprise to prove ;
But "Tarry," cries the last, "for powers above
All that ye boast alone could reach this fame."
VERS DE SOCIAtE AND PARODY. 19
Thus all who call you by that word again
Are taught at once to LAUd and to REvere,
For praise and reverence are your rightful state.
Unless, perchance, Apollo should disdain
The mortal tongue that, strange to fitting fear,
Around his greeny boughs should lightly prate.
Glorious Colonna, like a column strong,
Our hopes thou bearest of the Latin name,
Thou still dost calmly hold thy virtuous fame,
Even while the Pope condemns thee as for wrong.
Here is no palace, theatre, galleries long.
But fir and beech and pine put forth their claim
To stir the soul with true poetic flame
Amid green grass and hills and sweet birds' song.
Raised from the earth to heaven our spirits soar,
As soft the Nightingale in woodland shade
Pours all night long his melancholy strain.
"With loving thoughts the heart grows more and more ;
Oh, why is scene so fair imperfect made
Because my lord must absent still remain !
Horace — the product of a highly artificial period
of Roman life — is, for most part, in the vein ; and
20 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Mr. Austin Dobson assimilates and reproduces
this element of vague regret, yet of radiant self-
possession and poignant self-reproof, so admirably
because he is in so much Horatian. Let the
reader look at his renderings of Horace from the
Quartet in his last volume which, moreover have
the merit of exhibiting Horatian feeling shaking
hands with the new poetic forms — in this case
the Rondel and Triolet, of which we shall have
to say a few words immediately : —
VITAS HINNULEO.
(Rondel.)
You shun me, Chloe, wild and shy,
As some stray fawn that seeks its mother,
Through trackless woods. If spring-winds sigh,
It vainly strives its fears to smother ; —
Its trembling knees assail each other,
When lizards stir the bramble dry ; —
You shun me, Chloe, wild and shy
As some stray fawn that seeks its mother.
And yet no Libyan lion I, —
No ravening thing to rend another ;
Lay by your tears, your tremors by, —
A husband's better than a brother ;
Nor shun me, Chloe, wild and shy
As some stray fawn that seeks its mother.
VERS BE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
PERSICOS ODI.
(Triokfs.)
Davus, I detest
Orient display ;
Wreaths on linden drest,
Davus, I detest.
Let the late rose rest
Where it fades away :
Davus, I detest
Orient display.
Nought but myrtle twine
Therefore, Boy, for me
Sitting 'neath the vine, —
Nought but myrtle twine ;
Fitting to the wine.
Not unfitting thee ;
Nougnt but myrtle twine
Therefore, Boy, for me.
Is this not exactly the tone of Herrick, of
Suckling, of Lovelace, of Waller, and Skelton, and
the rest of our own Engh'sh Society-Verse makers,
who produced the thing before it had received the
name? Nay, is it not the very tone of much in
Shakespere, who included, as by law of affinity,
every specific tone that poet could touch ? Is it not
2 2 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
the tone of Congreve, and of Swift, when he is not-
sardonic to the extent of dissipating, by bitter
breath, the fanciful forms he has created for him-
self? Prior, and Gay, and Dorset, and Pope —
when he can be naively playful, which is not so
very often, as one would think — are in the vein ; so
is Goldsmith, and, on one or two occasions, even
Cowper, who is then always truly naif and gently
playful. Then there is Praed, and, in a sense,
Ingoldsby, and Leigh Hunt, and Landor, and Hood,
the elder : and among Scottish writers, Aytoun,
Outram, and some others less known ; for we shall
rank Lord Neaves amongst living writers of this
class, because he has distinctly formed a Scottish
School of what we must call Society- writers, who
describe a full circle from the broadest fun to finest
satire and all with the utmost playfulness and good
humoured innocence of intent.
^ But we must not go back on old examples ; that
would prove endless. We must content ourselves
with presenting a few of the most select specimens
from writers of our own day, well-contrasted and
really illustrative. Nothing could be finer as a
general specimen of the Vers de Sociite spirit than
this — one of the happiest specimens from the
happy pen of Mr. Henry S. Leigh : —
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 25
THE TWO AGES.
Folks were happy as days were long
In the old Arcadian times ;
When life seemed only a dance and song
In the sweetest of all sweet climes.
Our world grows bigger, and, stage by stage,
As the pitiless years have rolled,
We've quite forgotten the Golden Age,
And come to the Age of Gold.
Time went by in a sheepish way
Upon Thessaly's plains of yore.
In the nineteenth century lambs at play,
Mean mutton, and nothing more.
Our swains at present are far too sage
To live as one lived of old :
So they couple the crook of the Golden Age
With a hook in the Age of Gold.
From Corydon's reed the mountains round
Heard news of his latest flame ;
And Tityrus made the woods resound
With echoes of Daphne's name.
They kindly left us a lasting gauge
Of their musical art, we're told ;
And the Pandean pipe of the Golden Age
Brings mirth to the Age of Gold.
Dwellers in huts and in marble halls —
From shepherdess up to queen —
Cared little for bonnets, and less for shawls,.
And nothing for crinoline.
But now simplicity's not the rage,
And it's funny to think how cold
The dress they wore in the Golden Age
Would seem in the A^e of Gold.
24 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Electric telegraphs, printing, gas,
Tobacco, balloons, and steam,
Are little events that have come to pass
Since the daj's of the old rh^ime.
And, spite of Lempriere's dazzling page,
I'd give — though it might seem bold —
A hundred years of the Golden Age
For a year of the Age of Gold.'
Mr. Frederick Locker has the true air of the
writer of Society-Verse. He is never too much in
earnest, and yet he is never trivial. His humour is
of a soft and enticing kind. It shines rather than
sparkles. He understands thoroughly what is con-
sistent with his aims, and seldom aims too high.
With all the external marks of the " man of the
world," he touches the domestic sentiment faith-
fully, and to fine issue : he is at home in the walks
of the heart, and though he can smile with an
averted face, it is because he would rather not say
all that he feels and finds his pleasures in. He is
sincere as well as gay ; he is serious as well as
naively satirical ; there is a kindly glow and a firm
beat of the pulse felt beneath the courtly polish
and polite banter ; the veins can be seen under the
lily-white hand. His fancy is obedient to his
mood, and moves equably even when he is con-
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 25
■sciously indulging in surprises. Mr. Locker and
Mr. Austin Dobson arc, now-a-days, frequently
named together, and spoken of as though to similar
characteristics they owed their measure of success.
Mr. Locker lacks a little of Mr. Dobson's subtle
feeling for rhythm — he does not attain to the final
felicity of some of Mr. Dobson's separate stanzas,
though he is less tempted by extensive knowledge
into recondite references, odd allusions, and classical
bye-play. Mr. Locker's pride is to go as straight
to the mark, with unhesitating English frankness, as
a Society- Verse writer could go. Mr. Dobson has
much more ?iX'(\s\Xc finesse. So far as two writers
of the same class of verse, taken broadly, could be
distinguished, these two are distinguished by this :
Mr. Locker is frank as an old English gentleman ;
Mr. Dobson is reserved and dexterous, and often
seeks to evade direct statement or questioning. He
is conscious of his power to tantalize and to teach
as well as to amuse. He inclines not seldom therefore
to parable, to fable, to relieve himself by work which
is in essence moral. He has a dash of Hogarth in
him, as well as of Horace. He has, too, the
modern feeling for nature more strongly developed
than Mr. Locker, as seen in such poems as " The
Seasons ; " and in widening the sphere of his
26 VERS DE SOCIAtA AND PARODY.
possible activity, it may tend sometimes to take
from him his directness. He is at once finer and
richer than Mr. Locker ; but Mr. Locker is more
concentrated, and sure of his ground. Mr. Dobson
loves to experiment, to try new fields, and is apt
to ignore the value of the successes he has achieved^
and to compromise himself by writing for the mere
ingenuity of the thing — " trifling " a little bit,
though always like a scholar and a gentleman, —
and he has, in the minds of some very good critics^
lost a good deal by it. He is more versatile, but
less self-sustained, than Mr. Locker ; more a man
of ideas ; more of a student and a scholar than
a man of the world — sometimes, indeed, there is a
shaded and reserved purity in his verses — as in one
notable stanza of " Incognita " — which is almost
unexpected, and is not likely to be valued at its
true worth by mere readers of Society- Verse. Mr.
Locker succeeds by his mixture of good English
sense, subdued humour, and complete knowledge
of cultivated life ; Mr. Dobson succeeds by his
nimble fancy, dainty grace of expression, quaint
inventiveness, and wide scholarship, sensibility, and
general dexterity of intellect which controls it all,
and detracts from the sense of spontaneity too
largely. He uses his wide learning well, to impart
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 27
a weight to his verse which otherwise would be
often too trivial. Besides, he has a turn for the
courtly farcical or more dignified grotesque, and
this, in combination with a power to throw his
fancies into dramatic form, raises the expectation
that he might become a playwright, and succeed in
a kind of piece which good society in France
particularly admires, and which we may presume
that there will be more and more demand for
here as knowledge of French literature and French
life increases amongst us. Of this we have no
promise or suggestion in what Mr. Locker has given
to us.
One other point we must notice in Mr. Dobson —
it is his remarkable faculty of restoration. He will
choose a certain era, and with a few characteristic
touches, exhibiting most careful and loving study,
even of out-of-the-way books and details, he will
present it, pregnant and clear, in a stanza or two.
Both his volumes show many instances of this,
proving that he is as much an antiquarian as a poet
can afford to be. His " Gentleman of the old
School " and his "Gentlev>^oman of the old School "
perhaps show him at his best in this line. Some-
times, as in " The Tale of Polypheme," and the
" Ballad of Beau Brocade," he condescends to the
2S VERS BE SOCIETE AND EARODY.
veriest trifling in this line also — such trifling as
might be left to weaker hands, while he took up
work with more humanity and promise of perma-
nence ; for he can write " Verses of Humanity " as
well as Verses of Society, and it is doubtful whether
his success in the first does not a little spoil him for
full success in the last, though his success in the
last may only aid him in the attainment of true
grace in the first. Such pieces as " The Young
Musician " bear witness for him here. But we
must justify our deliverance so far by specimens.
The first is from Mr. Locker, and is titled : " To
my Mistress's Boots," an admirable specimen of fun
hiding earnest : —
TO MY mistress's BOOTS.
They nearly strike me dumb,
And I tremble when they come
Pit-a-pat.
This palpitation means,
That these boots are Geraldine's,
Think of that.
Oh, where did hunter win
So delicate a skin
For her feet ?
You lucky little kid,
You perished, so you did,
For my sweet.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
The fairy stitching gleams
On the toes and in the seams,
And reveals
That Pixies were the wags
Who tipped these funny tags
And these heels.
What soles ! so little worn !
Had Crusoe — soul forlorn —
Chanced to viev/
0)ie printed near the tide,
How hard he would ha^■e tried
For the two.
For Gerry's debonair,
And innocent and fair
As a rose.
She's an angel in a frock,
With a fascinating cock
To her nose.
Those simpletons who squeeze
Their extremities to please
Mandarins,
Would positively flinch
From venturing to pinch
Geraldine's.
Cinderella's lefts and rights
To Geraldine's were frights,
And, in truth,
The damsel, deftly shod.
Has dutifully trod
From her youtL
30 VERS DE SO CI Ate and parody.
The mansion — ay, and more,
The cottage of the poor,
Where there's grief
Or sickness, are her choice,
And the music of her voice
Brings relief.
Come, Gerry, since it suits
Such a pretty puss-in-boots
These to don,
Set your little hand awhile
On my shoulder, dear, and I'll
Put them on.
By way of complement we may here set down
" The Jester's Plea " — a piece in a stricter vein of
moralising — nevertheless full of the essential quality
of such verse : —
THE jester's plea.
These verses were published in 1862, in a volume of Poems
(by several hands), entitled '■'■An Offering to Lancashire ^^
The World ! Was jester ever ii
A viler than the present ?
Yet if it ugly be — as sin,
It almost is — as pleasant !
It is a merry world (pro tem.),
And some are gay, and therefore
It pleases them — but some condemn
The fun they do not care for.
VERS BE SOCIETE AyD EARODY. 31
It is an ugly world. Offend
Good people — how they wrangle !
The manners that they never mend !
The characters they mangle !
They eat, and drink, and scheme, and plod,
And go to church on Sunday —
And many are afraid of God — •
And more of Mrs. Grundy.
The time for Pen and Sword was when
" My ladye fayre," for pity
Could tend her wounded knight, and then
Grow tender at his ditty !
Some ladies now make pretty songs, —
And some make pretty nurses : —
Some men are good for righting wrongs, —
And some for writing verses.
I wish We better understood
The tax that poets levy ! —
I know the Muse is very good —
I think she's rather heavy :
She now compounds for winning ways
By morals of the sternest —
Methinks the lays of now-a-days
Are painfully in earnest.
When Wisdom halts, I humbly try
To make the most of Folly :
If Pallas be unwilling, I
Prefer to flirt with Polly, —
To quit the goddess for the maid
Seems low in lofty musers —
But Pallas is a haughty jade —
And beggars can't be choosers.
32 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY
I do not wish to see the slaves
Of party, stirring passion,
Or psahiis c^uite superseding staves,
Or piety " the fashion."
I bless tlie Hearts where pity glows,
Who, here together banded,
Are holding out a hand to those
That wait so empty-handed !
A righteous Work ! — My masters, may
A Jester by confession,
Scarce noticed join, half sad, half gay,
The close of your procession ?
The motley here seems out of place
With graver robes to mingle.
But if one tear bedews his face,
Forgive the bells their jingle.
Mr. Austin Dobson can touch a yet lighter strain,
and impart to it a tone of truest elevation and
dainty fragrancy of finish. This is a specimen,
though we were for a moment or two divided be-
tween it and tlie piece called " Incognita." —
DORA versus rose.
" The case is proceeding.''^
From the tragic-est novels at Mudie's —
At least, on a practical plan —
To the tales of mere Hodges and Judys,
One love is enough for a man.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 33
But no case that I ever yet met is
Like mine : I am equally fond
Of Rose, who a charming brunette is,
And Dora, a blonde.
Each rivals the other in powers —
Each waltzes, each warbles, each paints —
Miss Rose, chiefly tumble-down towers ;
Miss Do., perpendicular saints.
In short, to distinguish is folly ;
'Twixt the pair I am come to the pass
Of Macheath, between Lucy and Polly —
Or Buridan's ass.
If it happens that Rose I have singled
For a soft celebration in rhyme,
Then the ringlets of Dora get mingled
Somehow with the tune and the time ;
Or I painfully pen me a sonnet
To an eyebrow intended for Do.'s
And behold I am writing upon it
The legend, "To Rose."
Or I try to draw Dora (my blotter
Is all overscrawled with her head),
If I fancy at last that I've got her,
It turns to her rival instead ;
Or I find myself placidly adding
To the rapturous tresses of Rose
Miss Dora's bud-mouth, and her madding,
Ineffable nose.
34 VERS DE SOCI^TE AND PARODY.
Was there ever so sad a dilemma ?
For Rose I would perish (pro tem.);
For Dora I'd willingly stem a —
(Whatever might offer to stem) ;
But to make the invidious election, —
To declare that on either one's side
I've a scruple, — a grain, more affection,
I cannot decide.
And as either so hopelessly nice is,
My sole and my final resource
Is to wait some indefinite crisis, —
Some feat of molecular force,
To solve me this riddle conducive
By no means to peace or repose,
Since the issue can scarce be inclusive
Of Dora mid Rose.
(Afterthought.)
But, perhaps, if a third (say a Norah),
Not quite so delightful as Rose —
Not wholly so charming as Dora, —
Should appear, is it wrong to suppose, —
As the claims of the others are equal, —
And flight — in the main — is the best, —
That I might . . . But no matter, — the sequel
Is easily guessed.
Mr. Mortimer Collins has written one or two
admirable pieces which, however, — though of first-
rate quality in points, — do not maintain the same
VERS DE SOCIElA AND PARODY. 35
unity and exquisite balance as those of Mr. Locker
or Mr. Austin Dobson. This is, perhaps, the
best : —
AD CHLOEN, M.A.
(Fresh from her Cambridge Examination.)
Lady, very fair are you,
And your eyes are very blue,
And your nose ;
And your brow is like the snow ;
And the various things you know
Goodness knows.
And the rose-flush on your cheek,
And your algebra and Greek
Perfect are ;
And that loving lustrous eye
Recognises in the sky
Every star.
You have pouting, piquant hps.
You can doubtless an eclipse
Calculate ;
But for your ccerulean hue,
I had certainly from you
Met my fate.
If by an arrangement dual
I were Adams mixed with Whewell^
The same day
I, as wooer, perhaps may come
To so sweet an Artium
Magistra.
36 VERS DE SOCIAtA AND PARODY.
Mr. Calverley, too, we should have quoted from ;
but forbear, as we shall have so much to say of him
under the head of Parody. Besides Mr. Henry
S. Leigh, we must name Mr. Gosse, Mr. Cosmo
Monkhouse, Mr. Henley, Mr. Fennel, and Mr.
Savile Clarke, — all of whom have produced gems
in this cameo-carving of verse.
ni. — Exotic Poetic Forms.
We cannot pass from the subject of Vers de
Societe without a word or two about the new forms
which have recently come into vogue. These are
admirably fitted for certain purposes, and in expert
hands occasionally yield a satisfying effect Re-
straint, however, is the first feeling on reading most
of them ; so that we need not expect much from the
movement. Mr. Dobson has written some exquisite
Triolets, as v/ell as Ballades, after the true form,
and he has given in an appendix to Mr. Davenport
Adams's recent Volume, a very admirable paper
descriptive of all these forms ; and this, if sup-
plemented by his article in the " Mirror of Litera-
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 37
ture " on the Ballade, will convey as full an idea
as English readers can desire in respect to them.
Their relation to Vers de Society is not quite so
accidental as it might appear : for Mr. Austin
Dobson has himself pointed out that for most
part they might be made effective in epigram, but
only, we think, in epigram that has elements to
ally it closely with Society- Verse. We give below
one or two specimens of these forms of verse, the
more important here as preparations for what shall
be said of them under the head of Parody, The
first shall be a Ballade — the rule of which is that
it shall be written on three rhymes and no more —
arranged as a slight attention to this specimen will
at once show to the careful reader : —
THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME.
Double Refrain.
When the ways are heavy with mire and rut,
In November fogs, in December snows,
When the North Wind howls, and the doors are shut,-
rhere is place and enough for the pains of prose ;
But whenever a scent from the whitethorn blows,
And the jasmine-stars to the lattice climb.
And a rosalind-face to the casement shows,
Then hey ! — for the ripple of laughing rhyme !
38 VERS DE SOCJETE AND PARODY.
When the brain gets as dry as an empty nut,
When the reason stands on its squarest toes,
When the mind (hke a beard) has a " formal cut," —
There is place and enough for the pains of prose ;
But whenever the May-blood stirs and glows,
And the young year draws to the " golden prime,"
And Sir Romeo sticks in his ear a rose, —
Then hey ! — for the ripple of laughing rhyme !
In a theme where the thoughts have a pendant-strut,
In a changing quarrel of " Ayes " and " Noes,"
In a starched procession of " If" and "But," —
There is place and enough for the pains of prose ;
But whenever a soft glance softer grows,
And the light hours dance to the trysting-time.
And the secret is told " that no one knows," —
Then hey ! — for the ripple of laughing rhyme !
Ejivou
In the work-a-day world, — for its needs and woes.
There is place and enough for the pains of prose ;
But whenever the May bells clash and chime ;
Then hey ! — for the ripple of laughing rhyme !
And these three Triolets : —
A Kiss.
Rose kissed me to-day.
Will she kiss me to-morrow ?
Let it be as it may.
Rose kissed me to-day.
VERS DE SOCIAtE AND PARODY.
But the pleasure gives way
To a savour of sorrow : —
Rose kissed me to-day, —
JVtll she kiss me to-morrow ?
Circe.
In the school of coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar; — •
O, they fish with all nets
In the school of coquettes !
When her brooch she forgets
'Tis to show her new collar :
In the school of coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar !
A Tear.
There's a tear in her eye, —
Such a clear little jewel !
WTiat can make her cry ?
There's a tear in her eye.
" Puck has killed a big fly, —
And its terribly cruel ; "
There's a tear in her eye —
Such a clear little jewel !
39
A clever writer in Fun has admirably shown how
some of these forms may be used for Society- Verse.
He has given a whole series of them, including the
40 VERS BE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Rondeau. Here we have a Rondel and a set of
Triolets : —
love's captive.
Rondel.
I HIDE her in my heart, my May,
And keep my darling captive there 1
But not because she'd fly away
To seek for liberty elsewhere.
For love is ever free as air !
And as with me her love will stay,
I hide her in my heart, my May,
And keep my darling captive there.
Our love is love that lives for aye,
Enchained in fetter strong and fair,
So evermore, by night and day.
That we our prisoned home may share,.
I hide her in my heart, my May,
And keep my darling captive there.
A PAIR OF GLOVES.
Triolets.
My love of loves — my May,
In rippling shadows lying,
Was sleeping mid the hay —
My love of loves — my May !
The ardent sun was trying
To kiss her dreams away !
My love of loves — my May,
In rippling shadows lying !
VEIiS DE SOCIETA AND PARODY. 41
I knelt and kissed her lips,
Sweeter than any flower
The bee for honey sips !
I knelt and kissed her lips, —
And as her dark eyes' power
Awoke from sleep's eclipse,
I knelt and kissed her lips
Sweeter than any flower !
The pair of gloves I won,
My darling pays in kisses !
Long may the sweet debt run —
The pair of gloves I won !
Till death our love dismisses
This feud will ne'er be done —
The pair of gloves I won,
My darling pays in kisses 1
IV. — The Scottish School.
The Scottish School — of which Professor Aytoun,
Mr. Outram, and others of the Blackwood band^
were the proper founders — was originally based on
merely humorous character-sketching, as seen in
" The Annuity." It has passed — perhaps in
42 VERS BE SOCIAtA AND PARODY.
peculiar consonance with the national character —
into two main lines. Convivial humour of the
broader kind, always with a more or less pronounced
purpose of specific satire of foibles and extrava-
gances ; and a free criticism of the national ortho-
doxy, with a view of broadening and liberalising
it. In this latter phase, it has been, so to say, taken
possession of by the Broad-Church party ; and
some of the happiest efforts of Dr. Norman
Macleod in verse would belong to this class —
especially the " Waggin o' oor dog's tail." It is felt
in the " Curling Song " also ; and, indeed, it might
be said that Norman Macleod never fell into the
lighter mood without carrying a shade of this
earnest purpose with him. But he was not artis-
tically delicate, and his points were not always
taken with full feeling. He lacked wholly the art
Horatian, and must, for this reason, rank only as
third or fourth rate in spite of his fine spirits, his
readiness, his spontaneity, and earnest purpose. It
has been well-said that the Scotch are peculiar in
that they can afford to scrutinize their own oddities,
and, on occasion, to look at themselves precisely like
a third person. This is seen in much of the verse
we are now dealing with. A few specimens of the
more typical classes are all that we can afford to
VERS DE SOCIETY AND PARODY. 43
give. The first shall be from Lord Neaves on " The
Origin of Species : " —
THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES.
A new Song.
Have you heard of this question the Doctors among,
Whether all living things from a Monad have sprung ?
This has lately been said, and now shall be sung,
Which nobody can deny.
Not one or two ages sufficed for the feat.
It required a few millions the change to complete ;
But now the thing's done, and it looks rather neat,
Which nobody can deny.
The original Monad, our great, great-grandsire,
To little or nothing at first did aspire ;
But at last to have offspring it took a desire,
Which nobody can deny.
This Monad becoming a father or mother,
By budding or bursting, produced such another ;
And shortly there followed a sister or brother,
Which nobody can deny.
But Monad no longer designates them, well —
They're a cluster of molecules now, or a cell ;
But which of the two, Doctors only can tell,
Which nobody can deny.
These beings increasing grew buoyant with life,
And each to itself was both husband and wife ;
And at first, strange to say, the two lived without strife,
Which nobody can deny.
44 VERS DE SOCIAtE AND PARODY.
But such crowding together soon troublesome greu\
And they thought a division of labour would do ;
So their sexual system was parted in two,
Which nobody can deny,
Thus Plato supposes that severed by fate,
Human halves run about, each in search of its mate,.
Never pleased till they gain their original state.
Which nobody can deny.
Excrescences fast were now trying to shoot ;
Some put out a finger, some put out a foot :
Some set up a mouth, and some sent out a root,
Which nobody can deny.
Some, wishing to walk, manufactured a limb ;
Some rigged out a fin, with a purpose to swim ;
Some opened an eye, some remained dark and dim,
Which nobody can deny.
Some creatures grew bulky, while others were small.
As nature sent food for the few or for all ;
And the weakest, we know, ever go to the wall,
Which nobody can deny.
A Deer with a neck that was longer by half
Than the rest of its family (try not to laugh).
By stretching and stretching became a Giraffe,
Which nobody can deny.
A very tall Pig, with a very long nose.
Sends forth a proboscis quite down to his toes ;
And he then by the name of an Elephant goes,
Which nobody will deny.
VERS BE SO CI Ate and parody. 45
The four-footed beast that we now call a Whale,
Held its hind legs so close that it grew to a tail,
"Which it uses for threshing the sea like a flail.
Which nobody can deny.
Pouters, tumblers, and fantails are from the same source ;
The racer and hack may be traced to one Horse :
So men were developed from Monkeys of course,
Which nobody can deny.
An ape with a pliable thumb and big brain,
When the gift of the gab he had managed to gain,
As a Lord of creation established his reign.
Which nobody can deny.
But I'm sadly afraid, if we do not take care,
A relapse to low hfe may our prospects impair ;
So of beastly propensities let us beware,
Which nobody can deny.
Their lofty position our children may lose.
And reduced to all fours, must then narrow their views ;
Which would wholly unfit them for filling our shoes.
Which nobody can deny.
Their vertebrae next might be taken away.
When they'd sink to an oyster or insect some day,
Or the pitiful part of a polypus play.
Which nobody can deny.
Thus losing Humanity's nature and name,
And descending through varying stages of shame,
They'd return from the jNIonad, from which we all came,
^\^lich nobody can deny.
46 VERS DE SOCIAtJ^ AND PARODY.
<
In a slightly different vein we may cite the
following : —
LET US ALL BE UNHAPPY ON SUNDAY.
A Lyric for Sunday Night.
We Zealots, made up of stiff clay,
The sour looking children of sorrow.
While not over jolly to-day,
Resolved to" be wretched to-morrow.
We can't for certainty tell
What mirth may molest us on Monday ;
But, at least to begin the week well.
Let us all be unhappy on Sunday.
That day the calm season of rest,
Shall come to us freshing and frigid ;
A gloom all our thoughts shall invest.
Such as Calvin would call over-rigid.
With sermons from morning till night.
We'll strive to be decent and dreary :
To preachers a praise and delight.
Who ne'er think sermons can weary.
All tradesmen cry up their own wares ;
In this way they agree well together :
The Mason by stone and lime swears ;
The Tanner is always for leather.
The Smith still for iron would go ;
The Schoolmaster stands up for teaching;
And the Parson would have you to know,
There's nothing on earth hke his preaching.
VERS DE SOClixA AND PARODY. 47
The face of kind nature is fair ;
But our system obscures its effulgence :
How sweet is a breath of fresh air !
But our rules don't allow the indulgence.
These gardens, their walks and green bowers,
Might be free to the poor man for one day ;
But no, the glad plants and gay flowers
Mustn't bloom or smell sweetly on Sunday.
What though a good precept we strain
Till hateful and hurtful we make it !
What though, in this pulling the rein,
We may draw it so tight as to break it !
Abroad we forbid folks to roam,
Because they get social or frisky ;
But of course they can sit still at home
And get dismally drunk on whisky.
Then, though we can't certainly tell
How mirth may molest us on Monday :
At least, to begin the week well
Let us all be unhappy on Sunday.
We have preferred to give these to the yet better
known " Origin of Languages," or the song, " I'm
very fond of Water," as being less likely to be
familiar to our readers.
Professor Blackie, who not seldom ruins his
poems of this class for any purpose but chorus-
singing, through his rough and ready, off-hand
style, has written at least two good things, of which
48 VERS DE SOCI&tA AND PARODY,
we shall present copies to the reader, assured that
he will laugh lightly over them. Though Professor
Blackie hates metaphysics, the first is metaphysical
and is named : —
CONCERNING I AND NON-I.
Since father Noah first tapped the vine,
And warmed his jolly old nose.
All men to drinking do much incline,
But why no drinker yet knows ;
We drink and we never think how !
And yet in our drinking,
The root of deep thinking
Lies very profound,
As I will expound
To all who will drink with me now I
The poets, God knows, a jovial race,
Have ever been lauding of wine ;
Of Bacchus they sing, and his rosy face,
And the draught of the beaker divine ;
Yet all their fine phrases are vain ;
They pour out the essence
Of brain-effervescence.
With rhyme and rant
And jingling cant,
But nothing at all they explain.
But I, who quaff the thoughtful well
Of Plato and old Aristotle,
And Kant, and Fichte, and Hegel can tell
The wisdom that lies in the bottle;
I drink, and in drinking I know.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 49
With a glance keen and nimble
I pierce through the symbol,
And seize the soul
Of truth in the bowl,
Behind the sensuous show !
Now brim your glass, and plant it well
Beneath your nose on the table,
And you will find what philosophers tell
Of I and non-I is no fable.
Now listen to wisdom, my son !
Myself am the subject,
This wine is the object,
These things are two,
But I'll prove to you
That subject and object are one.
I take this glass in my hand, and stand
Upon my legs, if I can.
And look and smile benign and bland,
And feel that I am a man.
Now stretch all the strength of your brains !
I drink — and the object
Is lost in the subject.
Making one entity.
In the identity
Of me and the wine in my veins !
And now if Hamilton, Fraser, or Mill,
This point can better explain,
You may learn from them, with method and skill,
To plumb the abyss of your brain ;
But this simple faith, I avow,
D
so VERS DE SOCli.T& AND PARODY.
The root of true thinking
Lies just in deep drinking,
As I have shown
By a way of my own,
To this jolly good company now.
The next is on a very suitable theme for a pro-
fessor who at once is a book-worm and is not : —
SOME BOOK-WORMS WILL SIT AND WILL STUDY.
Some book-worms will sit and will study
Along with their dear selves alone,
Till their brain like a mill-pond grows muddy,
And their heart is as cold as a stone.
But listen to what 1 now say, boys.
Who know the fine art to unbend ;
And all labour without any play, boys.
Makes Jack a dull boy in the end.
There's Moodie, no doubt he's a fellow
Of heart, and of head has no lack,
But his cheek, Uke a lemon, is yellow.
And he bends like a camel his back.
I tell him the worst of all evils
Is cram ; and to live on this plan
Is to nourish a host of blue devils.
To plague him when he is a man.
Sure Solomon knew what was fitting ^
To keep a man juicy and fresh,
And he says there is nothing hke sitting
O'er books to bring grief to the flesh.
VERS BE SO CI At A AND PARODY. 51
From quarto to folio creeping,
Some record of folly to gain,
He says that your red eyes are keeping
Dull watch o'er the ni^ht oil in vain.
I guess you have heard many sermons
Not wiser at all than my rhymes,
But perhaps you don't know what determines
Their sense to be nonsense sometimes.
Though bright the great truth may be beaming.
Through dimness it struggles in vain,
Of vapours from stomach upsteaming
Unhealthy, that poison the brain.
Beside her old wheel when 'tis birring,
A spinster may sit and may croon ;
But a meddlesome youth should be stirring
Like Hermes, with wings to his shoon ;
With a club, or a bat, or a mallet,
Making sport with the ball on the green,
Or roaming about with a wallet
Where steamboats and tourists are seen.
Then rise from the lean visaged study,'
That drains all the sap from your brains ;
Give your face to the breeze and grow- ruddy
With blood that exults in the veins.
Trust me, — for I know what I say, boys, —
And use the fine art to unbend,
All work, with no season of play, boys,
Makes Jack a dull boy in the end !
52 VERS DE SOCIAtE AND PARODY.
At no great distance behind these come some of
the efforts of Sheriff Nicolson, of which this is per-
haps as effective as any : —
THE BRITISH ASS.
(Roared in a Den of Scientific Lions at Edinburgh,
1th August, 1871.^
Air "The British Grenadiers."
Some men go in for Science,
And some go in for Shams,
Some roar like hungry Lions,
And others bleat like lambs ;
But there's a Beast, that at this Feast
Deserves a double glass,
So let us bray, that long we may
Admire the British Ass !
Chorus — With an Ass-Ass-ociation,
Etc., Etc.
On England's fragrant clover
This beast delights to browse,
But sometimes he's a rover
To Scotland's broomy knowes ;
For there the plant supplies his want,
That doth all herbs surpass.
The Thistle rude — the sweetest food-
That feeds the British Ass !
VERS DE SOCIETA AND PARODY. 53
We've read in ancient story,
How a great Chaldean swell
Came down from all his glory,
With horned beasts to dwell ;
If you would know how it happened so,
That a King should feed on grass,
In " Section D, Department B,"
Inquire of the British Ass !
To Grecian sages, charming.
Rang the music of the spheres,
But voices more alarming
Salute our longer ears ;
By Science bold we now are told
How Life did come to pass —
From world to world the seeds were hurled.
Whence sprung the British Ass !
In our waltzing through creation
We meet those fiery stones
That bring, for propagation,
The germs of flesh and bones ;
And is it not a thrilling thought
That some huge misguided mass
Will, one fine day, come and sweep away
Our dear old British Ass !
The child who knows his father
Has aye been reckoned wise,
But some of us would rather
Be spared that sweet surprise !
If it be true, that when we view
A comely lad or lass,
We find the trace of the Monkey's face
In the iraze of the British Ass !
54 VERS DE SOCIAtA AND PARODY.
The Ancients, childish creatures !
Thought we derived from heaven
The godlike form and features
To mankind only given ;
But now we see our pedigree
Made plain as in a glass,
And when we grin we betray our kin*
To the sires of the British Ass !
V. — Parody.
We now proceed to speak of Parody, and, first,.
of the point where Parody touches Vers de Societe.
Wherever Parody reaches its highest point, it is on
the very margin of the sister-field. And the reason
is that where it rises highest it must be most
humane, and carry, hidden under its extravagance
and grotesquerie, some touch of pathos, true insight,
and sympathetic humour. It fulfils its fullest pur-
pose, and justifies itself, in ceasing to bear its
original features. Thackeray in some of his inimit-
able parodies succeeded in observing a balance
* " lie who rejects with scorn the belief that the shape of his
own canines, and their occasional great development in other men,
are due to our early progenitors having been provided with these
formidable weapons, will probably reveal by sneering the line of his
descent." — DarwvCs "Descent of Man" /., 127.
VERS BE SOCI&TA AND PARODY. 55
where many others have failed, managed to convey
weighty meanings through so effervescent a medium
without any sense of divorce or by spoih'ng the
pleasantry ; but this was because of his remarkable
combination of delicacy and creative humour — his
unique union of life-knowledge, quaint original
fancy, and power of imitation, piercing to pro-
founder characteristics ; so that he can hardly be
said to be a mere parodist even when he seems
to be most determinedly working as a parodist,
and thus in a walk of art crowded with com-
petitors he stands absolutely alone. The following
is quite in the Thackeray vein in this style
of work. The reader will perhaps notice the fine
morality that lies perdu in the high-spirited inde-
pendent tone of the last verse, the whole of a high
life-philosophy is to be read in it : —
WILLY REILLY.
Air of Boy Jones's Log.
Cakum to me* ye sailors bold
Wot plows upon the sea,
To you I mean for to unfold
My mournful histo-ree.
•The nsutical mode of writing "Oh, come tome." — Trintn'i
56 VERS BE SOCIAtE AXD PARODY.
So pay attention to my song,
And quick-tl-ly shall appear
How innocently all along
I was in-weigle-ed here.
One night, returnin' 'ome to bed
I walked through Pim-li-co,
And twigging of the Palass, sed,
" I'm Jones and Itt-i-go."
But afore I could git out, my boys,
Police-man 20 A,
He caught me by the corderoys,
And lugged me right away.
My cuss upon Lord Melbun and
On Johnny Russell so.
That forced me from my native land,
Across the waves to go-o-oh !
But all their spiteful arts is vain
My spirit to down keep ;
I hopes I'll soon git back again
To take another peep.
The bulk of the exercises of the Brothers Smith,
again, are samples of pure parody. But it is not
our purpose to draw particular illustrations from
the past. That would be an endless experiment.
Specimens of present-day writers will better serve
our purpose. Mr. Frederick Locker, equipped as
VERS JDE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 57
one might fancy in many respects for parody, has
seldom essayed it. He gives us, however, a few
specimens. The following, which carries over into
delightful extravagance the ultra-simplicity and
sentiment of the Poet Laureate's "Lord of Burleigh,"
is one of the best efforts in pure parody ; but we
must add that in this field, though Mr. Locker
admirably illustrated our demand for well-bred
inoffensiveness, he has never risen intellectually
above the old-fashioned standard — the standard of
the " Rejected Addresses." We cannot, however,
conceive Mr. Tennyson himself reading this save
\vith well-pleased, hearty laughter, because Mr.
Locker insinuates no feeling other than admiration
for the poem he parodies : —
UNFORTUNATE MISS BAILEY.
An Experiment.
When he whispers, " O Miss Bailey,
Thou art brightest of the throng" —
She makes murmur, softly-gaily —
" Alfred, I have loved thee long."
Then he drops upon his knees, a
Proof his heart is warm as wax ;
She's — I don't know who, but he's a
Captain bold from Halifax.
58 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY,
Though so loving, such another
Artless bride was never seen ;
Coachee thinks that she's his mother —
Till they get to Gretna Green.
There they stand, by him attended,
Hear the sable smith rehearse
That which links them, when 'tis ended,
Tight for better — or for worse.
Now her heart rejoices — ugly
Troubles need disturb her less —
Now the Happy Pair are snugly
Seated in the night express.
So they go with fond emotion,
So they journey through the night ;
London is their land of Goshen —
See, its suburbs are in sight !
Hark, the sound of life is swelling,
Pacing up, and racing down ;
Soon they reach her simple dwelling — •
Burley Street, by Somers Town.
What is there to so astound them ? ^
She cries " Oh ! " for he cries " Plah ! " ^
When five brats emerge, confound them !
Shouting out " Mamma ! " — " Papa ! "
While at this he wonders blindly,
Nor their meaning can divine,
Proud she turns them round, and kindly,
" All of these are mine and thine ! "
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 59.
Here he pines and grows dyspeptic,
Losing heart he loses pith —
Hints that Bishop Tail's a sceptic,
Swears that Moses was a myth.
Sees no evidence in Paley,
Takes to drinking ratifia :
Shies the muffins at Miss Bailey
While she's pouring out the tea.
One day, knocking up his quarters.
Poor Miss Bailey found him dead,
Hanging in his knotted garters,
Which she knitted ere they wed.
Tom Hood was the more fitted for parody in
that he was deficient in some of the qualities which
made his versatile father so unique — alike spon-
taneous and finished in serious poetry and in the
veriest whipt-cream of verse. He has written one
of the cleverest parodies of recent years on one of
Mr. Swinburne's best known efforts. The parody
will perhaps be the better appreciated if wc first give
a few stanzas of the original. It will be observed
that the metre is a difficult one, and new in English,
6o VERS DE SOCIltTE AND PARODY.
A MATCH.
If love were what the rose is,
And I were Uke the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather,
Blown fields or flowerful closes,
Green pleasure or gray grief;
If love were what the rose is.
And I were like the leaf.
If I were what the words are.
And love were like the tune,
With double sound and single
Delight our lips would mingle,
With kisses glad as birds are
That get sweet rain at noon ;
If I were what the words are.
And love were like the tune.
If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May,
We'd throw with leaves for hours
And draw for days with flowers.
Till day like night were shady,
And night were bright like day ;
If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May.
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain.
We'd hunt down love together.
Pluck out his flying-feather.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 6i
And teach his feet a measure,
And find his mouth a rein ;
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain.
The reader will notice that in no point does
Tom Hood fail to follow his original — the very title
is a happy parody.
A CATCH.
By a Miviic of Modern Melody.
If you were queen of bloaters
And I were king of soles,
The sea we'd wag our fins in,
Nor heed the crooked pins in
The water dropt by boaters
To catch our heedless joles ;
If you were queen of bloaters,
And I were king of soles.
If you were Lady Mile-End,
And I were Duke of Bow,
We'd marry and we'd quarrel,
And then, to point the moral,
Should Lord Penzance his file lend,
Our chains to overthrow ;
If you were Lady Mile-End,
And I were Duke of Bow.
62 VERS DE SOCIAtE AND PARODY.
If you were chill November,
And I were sunny June,
I'd not with love pursue you ;
For I should be to woo you
(You're foggy, pray remember),
A most egregious spoon ;
If you were chill November,
And I were sunny June.
If you were cook to Venus,
And I were J 19,
When missus was out dining,
Our suppertites combining,
We'd oft contrive between us
To keep the platter clean ;
If you were cook to Venus,
And I were J 19.
If you were but a jingle,
And I were but a rhyme ;
We'd keep this up for ever
Nor think it very clever,
A grain of sense to mingle
At times with simple chime ;
If you were but a jingle,
And I were but a rhyme.
Mr. Swinburne, as we shall see, has been a
favourite subject with later parodists — " Dolores,"
*' A Ballad of Dreamland," " Faustine," and others,
have been parodied over and over again ; but we
VERS DE SOCliTE AND PARODY. (^i
must not part with Tom Hood without saying that
his parodies of Moore and Byron are quite as in-
genious and sustained as the above ; while Mr.
Browning is not unsuccessfully followed in these
verses : —
POETS AND SONNETS.
By R.*b*rt. Br*wn*ng.
Where'er there's a thistle to feed a linnet — ■
And linnets are plenty, thistles rife —
Or an acorn-cup to catch dewdrops in it,
There's ample promise of future life.
Now mark how we begin it.
For linnets will follow, if linnets are minded.
As blows the white-feather parachute ;
And ships will reel by the tempest blinded —
Ay, ships, and shiploads of men to boot 1
How deep whole fleets you'll find hid.
And we blow the thistledown hither and thither,
Forgetful of linnets, and men and God.
The dew ! — for it's want an oak will wither —
By the dull hoof into the dust is trod.
And then who strikes the cithar ?
But thistles were only for donkeys intended,
And that donkeys are common enough is clear.
And that drop ! What a vessel it might have befriended ?
Does it add any flavour to Glugabib's beer ?
Well, there's my musing ended.
64 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Readers of recent fiction — more especially ad-
mirers of Miss Ingclow, of whom there are many in
every part of the world — may be interested in know-
ing the history of those little bits of funny verse
with which she enlivened one of her later novels,
" Fated to be Free," particularly several chapters in
the latter part of it. They are really " revenges " of
a delicate kind. We know that poets from of old
have been apt to bandy other wordy messages
than compliments, and the quarrel between
Mr. Tennyson and the late Lord Lytton is a
good modern instance. So when Mr. Calverley,
who has obtained considerable repute as a cunning
master of metre, both by his original poetic work
and by translations, includes direct parodies of
Miss Ingelow's most popular pieces, exposing
all her worst faults, it is only natural that she
should try to retaliate in kind. In his little
volume of " Fly Leaves," Mr, Calverley at one
place, under the title, " Lovers, and a Reflection,"
wioce ; —
In moss-prankt dell, which the sunbeams flatter
(And heaven it knoweth what that may mean ;
Meaning, however, is no great matter).
Where woods are a-tremble, with rifts atween ;
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 65
Thro' God's own heather we wonned together,
I and my WiUie (O love my love) :
I need hardly remark it was glorious weather,
And flitterbats wavered alow, above :
Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing
(Boats in that climate are so polite),
And sands were a ribbon of green endowing,
And O the sun-dazzle on bark and bight !
Thro' the rare red heather we danced together
(O love my Willie !), and smelt for flowers :
I must mention again it was glorious weather.
Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours : —
By rises that flushed with their purple favours.
Thro' becks that brattled o'er grassy sheen,
We walked and waded, we two young shavers.
Thanking our stars we were both so green.
We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie,
In fortunate parallels ! Butterflies,
Hid in weltering shadows of daffodilly
Or marjoram, kept making peacocks' eyes : —
Song-birds darted about, some inky
As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds ;
Or rosy as pinks, or as roses pinky —
They reck of no eerie To-come, those birds !
But they skim over bents which the millstream washes,.
Or hang in the lift 'neath a white cloud's hem ;
They need no parasols, no goloshes ;
And good Mrs. Trimmer she feedeth them.
66 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Then we thrid God's cowslips (as erst His heather)
That endowed the wan grass with their golden blooms ;
And snapt — (it was perfectly charming weather) —
Our fingers at fate and her goddess-glooms.
And Willie 'gan sing (oh, his notes were fluty ;
Wafts fluttered them out to the white-winged sea) —
Something made u]) of rhymes that have done much duty,
Rhymes (better to put it) of "ancientry."
O if billows and pillows and hours and flowers,
And all the brave rhymes of an elder day,
Could be furled together this genial weather.
And carted or carried on wafts away.
Nor ever again trotted out — ay me !
How much fewer volumes of verse there'd be.
To literary experts, with these facts in view, it
was not hard to find an underlying satiric reference
in such scraps as these from " Fated to be Free : " —
That maiden's nose, that puppy's eyes.
Which I this happy day saw,
They've touched the manliest chords that rise
I' the breast of Clifford Crayshaw.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 67
All day she worked, no lover lent
His aid ; and yet with glee
At dusk she sought her home, content,
That beauteous Bumble Bee.
A cell it was, nor more nor less,
But oh ! all's one to me,
A\'hether you write it with an S,
Dear girl, or with a C.
Then doth Tuck-man smile, " Them there
(Ho and Hi and futile Hum)
Jellies three-and-sixpence air,
Use of spoons an equal sum."
Trees are rich. Sweet task, 'tis o'er,
" Tuck-man, you're a brick," they cry.
Wildly then, shake hands, all four
(Hum and Ho, the end is Hi).
But whatever may be said of the serious verse of
the two writers, it is clear that Miss Ingelow cannot
cope with Mr. Calverley (Crayshay, C y, for
the sake of rhyme in two cases made Crayshaw) in
parody. Her efforts are too easily taken for mere
nonsense verse, and lack the exactitude and deli-
cacy of reference and imitation which alone could
have justified them in this light.
68 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
We must make room for this other very happy
expose of Miss Ingelow's peculiarities from Mr,
Bayard Taylor's pen : —
THE SHRIMP-GATHERERS.
Scarlet spaces of sand and ocean,
Gulls that circle and winds that blow
Baskets and boats and men in motion,
Sailing and scattering to and fro.
Girls are waiting, their wimples adorning
With crimson sprinkles the broad gray flood ;
And down the beach the blush of the morning,
Shines reflected from moisture and mud.
Broad from the yard the sails hang limpy.
Lightly the steersman whistles a lay ;
Pull with a will, for the nets are shrimpy,
Pull with a whistle, our hearts are gay !
Tuppence a quart, there are more than fifty,
Coffee is certain, and beer galore.
Coats are corduroy, and minds are thrifty.
Won't we ofo it on sea and shore ?
See, behind, how the hills are freckled
With low white huts, where the lasses 'bide !
See, before, how the sea is speckled
With sloops and schooners that wait the tide ?
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 69
Yarmouth fishers may rail and roister,
Tyne-side boys may shout " Give way ! "
Let them dredge for the lobster and oyster,
Pink and sweet are our shrimps to-day !
Shrimps and the delicate periwinkle,
Such are the sea-fruits lasses love :
Ho ! to your nets till the blue stars twinkle,
And the shutterless cottages gleam above !
Mr. Calvcrley is perhaps the most dexterous of
later parodists. No point seems to escape him :
no poet is beyond his scope. He is as facile in
metres as he is learned, and this enables him to
deal with topics from which^ anyone unless a well-
grounded scholar would be excluded. His taste
is admirable ; and, like Mr. Locker, he hits off
the " masters " without insinuating any particular
irreverence for them — a great point in parody,
which too often vulgarizes by association. How
ingeniously Mrs. Browning is reflected in the piece
entitled " In the Gloaming," of which these are a
few stanzas : —
In the Gloaming to be roaming, where the crested waves
are foaming,
And the shy mermaiden combing locks that ripple to
her feet ;
70 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
When the Gloaming is I never made the ghost of an
endeavour
To discover — but whatever were the hour, it would be
sweet.
" To their feet," I say, for Leech's sketch indisputably
teaches
That the mermaids of our beaches do not end in ugly
tails ;
Nor have homes among the corals ; but are shod with
neat balmorals,
An arrangement no one quarrels with, as many might
with scales.
Sweet to roam beneath a shady cliff, of course with some
young lady,
Lalage, Nesera, Haidee, or Elaine, or Mary Ann :
Love, you dear delusive dream you ! Very sweet your
victims deem you,
When heard only by the seamew, they talk all the stuff
one can.
Sweet to haste, a licensed lover, to Miss Pinkerton, the
glover,
Having managed to discover what is dear Nesera's size :
P'raps to touch that wrist so slender, as your tiny gift
you tender.
And to read you're no offender in those laughing hazel
eyes.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 71
Then the days of courtship over, with your wife to start
for Dover
Or Dieppe — and Hve in clover, evermore, whate'er
befalls :
For I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls
that grovel,
Folks pj'efer in fact a hovel to your dreary marble
halls.
To sit, happy married lovers; Phillis trifling with a
plover's
Egg, while Corydon uncovers with a grace the Sally
Lunn,
Or dissects the lucky pheasant — that, I think, were
passing pleasant.
As I sit alone at present, dreaming darkly of a dun.
Miss Rossetti, Mr. Coventry Patmore, Mr. Brown-
ing, Mr. Tennyson, are all rendered inimitably.
We can only afford space to give examples of his
Browningesc blank verse and Tennysonian lyric : —
Now law steps in, bigwigged, voluminous-jawed ;
Investigates and reinvestigates.
Was the transaction illegal ? Law shakes head.
Prepend, sir, all the bearings of the case.
At first the coin was mine, the chattel his,
But now (by virtue of the said exchange
And barter), vice versa, all the coin
Per juris operationetn, vests
72 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
IVthe boy and his assigns till ding o' doom
(In sceaila sceculo-o-o-orum ;
I think I hear the Abate mouth out that),
To have and hold the same to him and them. , . .
Confer some idiot on conveyancing.
Whereas the pebble and every part thereof,
And all that appertaineth thereunto
Quodcunque pertinet ad eani rem
(I fancy, sir, my Latin's rather pat),
Or shall, will, may, might, could, would, or should
( Subaiidi ccetera — clap we to the close —
For what's the good of law in a case of the kind),
Is mine to all intents and purposes.
This settled, I resume the thread o' the tale.
Now for a touch of the vendor's quality.
He says a gen'leman bought a pebble of him
(This pebble, i' sooth, sir, which I hold i' my hand),
And paid for't, like a gen'leman, on the nail.
" Did I o'ercharge him a ha'penny? Devil a bit.
Fiddlepin's end ! Get out, you blazing ass !
Gabble o' the goose. Don't bugaboo baby me !
So double or quits ? Yah ! tittup ! what's the odds ?"-
There's the transaction viewed i' the vendor's light.
Is it possible, let us ask in passing, that this
inimitable play on Mr. Browning's famous dramatic
summary of a law-case suggested his " Leading
Cases " to the " Apprentice of Lincoln's Inn ? "
VERS DE S0CIE7E AND PARODY. 73
But we must not forget Mr. Tennyson's lyric.
Here it is in Mr. Calverley's form : —
WANDERERS.
I LOITER down by thorp and town,
For any job I'm willing ;
Take here and there a dusty brown,
And here and there a shilling.
I deal in every ware in turn,
I've rings for buddin' Sally,
That sparkle like those eyes of her'n ;
I've liquor for the valet.
I steal from th' parson's strawberry plots,
I hide by th' squire's covers ;
I teach the sweet young housemaids what's
The art of trapping lovers.
The things I've done 'neath moon and stars
Have got me into messes ;
I've seen the sky thro' prison bars,
I've torn up prison dresses :
I've sat, I've sighed, I've gloomed, I've glanced
With envy at the swallows
That thro' the window slid and danced
(Quite happy) round the gallows.
But out again I come, and show
My face, nor care a stiver ;
For trades are brisk and trades are slow,
But mine goes on for ever.
74 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Thus on he prattled, like a babbling brook.
Then I, " The sun hath slipt behind the hill,
And my aunt Vivian dines at half-past six."
So in all love we parted ; I to the Hall,
They to the village. It was noised next noon
That chickens had been missed at Syllabub Farm.
Perhaps the most successful of all the parodies
of Mr. Tennyson is that of Mr. Bayard Taylor,
called " Sir Eggnogg " — meant, as the reader will
see, to satirize some of the affectations in the
" Idylls of a King." Let the reader notice how
nicely Mr. Tennyson's devotion to the separate and
secondary facts of Natural History is satirized: —
SIR EGGNOGC;.
Forth from the purple battlements he fared.
Sir Eggnogg of the Rampant Lily, named
From that embrasure of his argent shield,
Given by a thousand leagues of heraldry
On snuffy parchments drawn,- — so forth he fared.
By bosky boles and autumn leaves he fared
Where grew the juniper with berries black.
The sphery mansions of the future gin.
But naught of this decoyed his mind, so bent
On fair Miasma, Saxon-blooded girl,
Who laughed his loving lullabies to scorn.
And would have snatched his hero-sword to deck
Her haughty brow, or warm her hands withal.
So scornful she : and thence Sir Eggnogg cursed
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 75.
Between his teeth, and chewed his iron boots
In spleen of love. But ere the moon was high
In the robustious heaven, the postern-tower
Clang to the harsh, discordant, slivering scream
Of the tire-woman, at the window bent
To dress her crisped hair. She saw, ah woe !
The fair Miasma, overbalanced, hurled
O'er the flamboyant parapet, which ridged
The muffled coping of the castle's peak,
Prone on the ivory pavement of the court.
Which caught and cleft her fairest skull, and sent
Her rosy brains to fleck the Orient floor.
This saw Sir Eggnogg, in his stirrups poised,
Saw he and cursed, with many a deep-mouthed oath,
And, finding nothing more could reunite
The splintered form of fair Miasma, rode
On his careering palfrey to the wars.
And there found death, another death than hers.
That peculiarly effective metre in which Mr.
Swinburne wrote " Dolores " and his famous Dedi-
cation of the " Poems and Ballads " volume, is pre-
eminently one to invite parody, but also to defeat
it. It looks very easy to imitate it at first sight,
but that ending line of each stanza, so dexterously
cut short, will defy all hands save the most skilful.
Of the many parodies of this favourite Swinburnian
metre which we have seen, there is only one which
really carries the show of spirit successfully on.
This is the " Dedication to J. S." — the famous
76 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
" John Stiles " of the old law-books — in that little
slip of a volume, " Leading Cases." That those
even who may not be familiar with Mr. Swinburne's
" Poems and Ballads " may appreciate the parody,
we give here the three stanzas from the Dedication
to that volume which are most closely parodied,
and the reader will observe how aptly the some-
what pompous feminine-rhymes and the allitera-
tions have been followed : —
The sea gives her shells to the shingle,
The earth gives her streams to the sea ;
They are many, but my gift is single,
My verses, the first-fruits of me.
Let the wind take the green and the grey leaf.
Cast forth without fruit upon air ;
Take rose-leaf and vine-leaf and bay-leaf
Blown loose from the hair.
Though the world of your hands be more gracious
And lovelier in lordship of things.
Clothed round by sweet art with the spacious
Warm heaven of her imminent wings ;
Let them enter, unfledged and nigh fainting,
For the love of old loves and lost times,
And receive in your palace of painting*
This revel of rhymes.
* The book was dedicated to Mr. Burne Jones, the disthiguished
painter.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 77
Though the many Ughts dwindle to one Hght,
There is help if the heaven has one ;
Though the skies be discrowned of the sunlight,
And the earth dispossessed of the sun,
They have moonlight and sleep for repayment
When refreshed as a bride, and set free,
With stars and sea-winds in her raiment,
Night sinks on the sea.
Now, the " Dedication to J. S." can hardly fail to
be read with interest.
When waters are rent with commotion
Of storms, or with sunlight made whole.
The river still pours to the ocean
The stream of its effluent soul ;
You, too, from all lips of all living
Of worship disthroned and discrowned,
Shall know by these gifts of my giving
That faith is yet found :
By the sight of my song-flight of cases
That bears on wings woven of rhyme
Names set for a sign in high places
By sentence of men of old time ;
From all counties they meet and they mingle,
Dead suitors whom Westminster saw ;
They are many, but your name is single,
The flower of pure law.
78 VERS BE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
When bounty of grantors was gracious
To enfeoff you in fee and in tail,
The bounds of your land were made spacious
With lordship from Sale unto Dale ;
Trusts had you, and services loyal,
Lips sovereign for ending of strife,
And the names of the world's names most royal
For light of your life.
Ah desire that was urgent to Romeward,
And feet that were swifter than fate's,
And the noise of the speed of them homeward
For mutation and fall of estates I
Ah the days when your riding to Dover
Was prayed for and precious as gold,
The journeys, the deeds that are over,
The praise of them told.
But the days of your reign are departed.
And our fathers that fed on your looks
Have begotten a folk feeble-hearted,
That seek not your name in their books ;
And against you is risen a new foeman,
To storm with strange engines your home,
We wax pale at the name of him Roman,
His coming from Rome.
Yet I pour you this drink of my verses,
Of learning made lovely with lays,
Song bitter and sweet that rehearses
The deeds of your eminent days ;
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 79
Yea, in these evil days from their reading
Some profit a student shall draw,
Though some points are of obsolete pleading,
And some are not law.
Though the Courts that were manifold dwindle
To divers Divisions of one,
And no fire from your face may rekindle
The light of old learning undone ;
We have suitors and briefs for our payment,
While so long as a Court shall hold pleas.
We talk moonshine, with wigs for our raiment,
Not sinking the fees.
Though wc cannot regard the " Apprentice of
Lincoln's Inn " as having been quite successful in
finding funny points in his " cases " sufficient to
sustain for them a claim to rank on the higher
ground of independent humour, as it is too clear
that he aimed at doing, yet it must be admitted
that he has almost succeeded in this " Dedication."
Nothing could well be more effective than the
point that is made on the "■ Romeward tendency."
" If J. S. shall go to Rome in three days is the
standing example of an impossible condition " in
these old law books. In all the other instances,
however, the desire to compass a double purpose,
that is, to convey " substantial legal fun " under
cover of Parody, has, in our idea, failed, and failed
8o VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
nowhere more conspicuously than in that imitation
of ]\Ir. Browning, which we cannot help thinking
was suggested by Mr. Calverley's much happier
effort in the same line — that piece, again, suggesting
the idea of the whole book. These are a few of the
" Apprentice's " Browningese lines — he improves
a point on Mr. Calvcrlcy in adopting that odd,
irregular, rhyming couplet which Mr. Browning
used with such effect in one of his later volumes:^
Facts o' case first. At Milborne Port
Was fair-day, October the twenty and eight,
And folk in the market like fowls in a crate ;
Shepherd, one of your town-fool sort,
(From Solomon's time they call it sport,
Right to help holiday, just make fun louder),
Lights me a squib up of paper and powder,
(Find if you can the law-Latin for 't)
And chucks it, to give their trading a rouse.
Full i' the midst o' the market-house.
It happ'd to fall on a stall where Yates
Sold gingerbread and gilded cates
(Small damage if they should burn or fly all) ;
To save himself and said gingerbread loss
One Willis doth toss the thing across
To stall of one Ryall, who straight an espial
Of danger to his wares, of selfsame worth,
Casts it in market-house, farther forth.
And by two mesne tossings thus it got
To burst in the face of plaintiff Scott ;
And now 'gainst Shepherd, for loss of eye,
The question is, whether tj'espass shall lie.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 8i
Here, precisely as in one of the other " Leading
Cases," where an effort is made by John Vaux, on
a ground of trespass, to recover " eight pennies,"
for wine and bread consumed on the premises by
six carpenters, who could not or would not pay the
same, we find that the body of legal fun is too
heavy for the mere parody, which rests on points
that are too delicate. In the case of the "six
carpenters," the point of the parody rests merely
on the fantastical and inept rh}'me of "low "and
" ab initiol' which forms the last couplet of each
stanza.
Sed per toiam curiam 'twas well resolved
(Note, reader, this difference)
That in mere not doing no trespass is,
And John Vaux went empty thence.
The birds on the bough sing loud and sing low,
No trespass was here ab initio —
is surely very poor fun in either point of view.
The " Apprentice " has spoiled his purpose of
Parody by limiting the field of motif. To make a
book of " leading cases," unless with an allowance
of broader fun than his form of Parody admitted,
was almost to court monotony.
The following is in every respect a good parody
of another favourite metre of Mr. Swinburne, and
.S2 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
certainly brings it to the level of a fine ante-climax,
as anyone will see by reading his poem : —
APRIL SHOWERS.
Oh, x\pril showers
Are good for flowers,
And fill the bowers
With perfumes rare ;
But twinge erratic,
And pang rheumatic
And not ecstatic
Do they prepare !
And though the leanness
And arid meanness
Of lawns with greenness
They hide and clothe ;
They, past disputing.
Set corns a-shooting,
Which makes your booting
A thing to loathe !
And of the Future
Although they suit your
Bright dreams, compute you're
The Past's sad prey ;
The while you yell a
Vain ritornello
For that umbrella
That's stolen away !
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 83
Nor has Mr. Bayard Ta}-lor overlooked Mr.
Swinburne ; here is his " Lay of Macaroni," the
originals of which some of Mr. Swinburne's friends
deem to be perfect. We shall not speak on either
side, but leave it to the stranger.
THE LAY OF MACARONI.
As a wave that steals when the winds are stormy.
From creek to cove of the curving shore,
Buffeted, blown, and broken before me,
Scattered and spread to its sunlit core ;
As a dove that dips in the dark of maples
To sip the sweetness of shelter and shade,
I kneel in thy nimbus, O moon of Naples,
I bathe in thine beauty, by thee embayed.
What is it ails me that I should sing of her ?
The queen of the flashes and flames that were !
Yea, I have felt the shuddering sting of her,
The flower-sweet throat and the hands of her !
I have swayed and sung to the sound of her psalters,
I have danced her dances of dizzy delight,
I have hallowed mine hair to the horns of her altars,
Between the nightingale's song and the night.
What is it, Queen, that now I should do for thee ?
What is it now I should ask at thine hands ?
Blow of the trumpets thine children once blew for thee,
Break from thine feet and thine bosom the bands.
Nay, as sweet as the songs of Leone Leone,
And gay as her garments of gem-sprinkled gold.
She gives me mellifluous, wild macaroni,
The choice of her children when cheeses are old !
84 VEES BE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
.And over me hover, as if by the wings of it,
Frayed in the furnace by flame that is fleet,
The curious coils and the strenuous strings of it,
Dropping, diminishing down, as I eat :
Lo ! and the beautiful queen, as she brings of it.
Lifts me the links of the limitless chain.
Bidding mine mouth chant the splendidest things of it,
Out of the wealth of my wonderful brain !
Behold ! I have done it : my stomach is smitten
With sweets of the surfeit her hands have unrolled.
Italia, mine cheeks with thine kisses are bitten :
I am broken with beauty, stabbed, slaughtered, and
sold!
Ko man of thy millions is more macaronied,
Save mighty Mazzini, than musical Me :
The souls of the Ages shall stand as astonied.
And faint in the flame I am fanning for thee !
Mr. Swinburne in his various experiments with
exotic forms has given a specimen of the French
Ballade, which would be very perfect were it not for
one or two awkwardnesses in the feminine-rhymes
— such as " snow's is " and " grows is," which would
hardly be deemed happy rhymes in any ordinary
English form ; while another point is that he gets
over a difficulty by the expedient of such words as
" part," " apart," " dispart," — hardly rhymes in
strictness, but identical words — an expedient, as we
VERS BE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 85
know, not uncommon in French poetry, and sanc-
tioned even by Dante in Italian, but, in such a
case, surely introducing somewhat of the very
license which, as Mr. Gosse has well said in his
^' Plea for certain Exotic forms of Verse," * it is the
special object of such forms to proscribe. We do
not think that such identically sounded words as
^' heart " and " hart " can in strictness be defended
in this form of verse any more than they would be
in the sonnet. If "deferred" is a good rhyme
to " bird," then " heard " may pass, but then only.
A parodist, who is certainly ingenious, has made
a point of emphasizing these defects in Mr. Swin-
burne's Ballade. But to give point to the parody
we must quote two stanzas — the first and third —
from the " Ballad of Dreamland : " —
I HID my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun's way, hidden apart ;
In a softer bed than the soft white snow's is,
Under the roses I hid my heart.
AVhy should it sleep not ? why should it start,
When never a leaf of the rose tree stirred ?
What made sleep flutter his wings and part ?
Only the song of a secret bird.
* " Cornhill Magazine" for July, 1877. Would Mr. Gosse really
justify such expedients in the English sonnet ?
86 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
The green land's name that a charm encloses,
It never was writ in the traveller's chart,
And sweet as the fruit on its tree that grows is,
It never was sold in the merchants' mart.
The swallows of dreams through its dim fields dart,
And sleep's are the tunes in its tree tops heard ;
No hound's note wakens the wild wood hart.
Only the song of a secret bird.
■ Now for the Parody — cap a pie — with the Envoi
and all : —
A BALLAD OF AFTER DINNER.
A Month after Swinburne.
I HID my head in a rug from Moses,
From the clatter of moving dishes apart,
And curled up my feet for forty dozes,
Just for to soothe my beating heart.
Why did it sleep not ? Why did it start,
When never a dish remained to shock ?
What made the fluttering doze depart ?
Only the tick of an eight-day clock.
Be still, I said, for hope presupposes
A still mild mood for the sleep-slain hart ;
Be still, for the wind, with its curled-up toes, is
Silent and quieter yet than thou art.
VERS BE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 87
Doth a wound in thee deep as a thorn's wound smart?
Dost thou fretfully languish for Clicquot and hock ?
What bids the lids of thy sleep dispart ;
Only the tick of an eight-day clock.
I wait in vain for the charm that encloses
The green land of dreams in sleep's mystical chart,
For the fruit of its trees and the breath of its roses,
More sweet than are sold in the merchants' mart.
So close to its border, why fails my heart ?
What holdeth it back, tho' my dim brain rock ?
Without, the noise of the nightman's cart.
Within, the tick of an eight-day clock.
Efivoi.
Erewhile in hope I had chosen my part,
To sleep for a season as sound as a block,
With never a thought of a nightman's cart,
Or the hateful tick of an eight-day clock.
One parody of Mr. Swinburne, which is dis-
tinctly ingenious and sustained, and which would
have been less faulty had the subject been different
and less personal, is, we have been led to believe,
of American origin. It may be described as a
" glorification of the hat." It comes too close on
being offensive here and there, but parts of it are
exquisite, and it runs through many varieties of the
88 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
metres much affected by Mr. Swinburne, even
down to a comic travesty of his famous Atalanta
choruses. This is one bit : —
Before the beginning of years,
There went to the making of man
Nine tailors with their shears,
A coupe and a tiger and span,
Umbrellas and neckties and canes,
An ulster, a coat, and all that —
But the crowning glory remains.
His last best gift was his hat.
And the mad hatters took in hand
Skins of the beaver, and felt,
And straw from the isthmus land.
And silk and black bear's pelt :
And wrought with prophetic passion.
Designed on the newest plan,
They made in the height of fashion
The hat for the wearing of man.
Nor is this parodist unhappy in his blank verse
which he skilfully runs into sharpest caricature : —
I WOULD fain forget the cold
Of hand and feet, of heart and mouth of me.
Fire that I drink, burn in the songs I sing !
O that I were on some sweet sunlit hill
To see the glad vines crowding aslant its slopes.
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 89
Straining strong arms about it in the sun ;
And through the Hght and shadow of the leaves,
See Bacchus' self dancing among the grapes ;
And drink my fill until my blood grew warm
As juice of madness in the veins of vines,
Until my song grew sweet, fulfilled of fire
And joy of wine, of rich, luxuriant words,
Clustered as purple grapes upon my lips !
So would I follow all the day the dance
Of Bacchanals, and wearied in the way,
Lay me asleep in shadow of the vines.
Or would that I in midst of silver seas
Had felt the ship staid suddenly on her course.
And seen the masts made green with vine leaves when
Bacchus was crowned, and rode triumphant, borne
By lithe and spotted leopards out of the sea.
Dead dreams, alas, and past ! I will away,
Leaving the club of clods for mine own house.
Where is my hat ? I thought I had seen two !
Where is it ? Fret and irony of chance.
Shall I be hatless, shall I walk uncrowned
In shadow of no brim among the bards ?
* -x- * * *
Shall I, an uncrowned crown, discrowned of Eate,
Bare to the breath of winds blown every way,
And chill the burning brain it bears beneath ?
Mr. Bayard Taylor has given a most ingenious
and faithful rendering of Mr. Browning's blank
verse, in his " Diversions of the Echo Club ; " and
we must in justice subjoin it : —
90 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Who wills, may hear Sordello's story told
By Robert Browning : warm (you ask) or cold ?
But just so much as seemeth to enhance — •
The start being granted, onward goes the dance
To its own music — the poem's inward sense ;
So, by its verity .... nay, no pretence
Avails your self-created bards, and thus
By just the chance of half a hair to us.
If understood .... but what the odds to you,
Who, with no obligations to pursue
Scant tracks of thought, if such, indeed there be
In this one poem, — stay, my friend, and see
Whether you note that creamy tint of flesh,
Softer than bivalve ])ink, unpearled and fresh,
Just where the small o' the back goes curving down
To orbic muscles . . . . ha ! that sidelong frown
Pursing the eye, and, folded, deeply cleft.
r the nostril's edge, as though contempt were left
Just o'er the line that bounds indifference ....
But here's the test of any closer sense
(You follow me ?) such as I started with ;
And there be minds that seek the very pith.
Crowd close, bore deep, push far, and reach the light
Through league-long tunnels —
Mr. Browning's style, rugged, full of elisions, and
suggestive, has been often parodied ; his rhymed
verse more seldom than his blank verse, however ;
here is one specimen, after the poem " How the
Good News was brought from Aix to Ghent : " —
VERS BE SO CIE TE A ND FA RODY. 91
HOW THEV BROUGHT THE BAD NEWS FROM WESTMINSTER
TO ISLINGTON.
\A probable but not 7iecessarily truthful occurrefice, after
E. Brow}iingP\
When Chancellor Dizzy had ceased his confab
Two members of Parliament rushed for a cab :
" First Hansom ! " they shouted from Westminster Hall ;
" Cab ! " echoed a peeler who ran at the call.
At their knees the door clanged, and they sank on the
seat,
While the vehicle galloped up Parliament-street.
Not a word to each other : they knew in the chair
M. A. President Beales would be tearing his hair ;
When a block, or a wagon, compelled them to stop,
To cabby they screamed through the hole in the top ;
Encouraged by reins, and a whip that could crack,
On galloped the broken-kneed, whistling, old hack !
'Twas lateish at starting ; but when they drew near
The outskirts, smart servants were fetching the beer,
In Holborn a yellow 'bus got in their way,
And close to Gray's Inn they were stopped by a dray ;
But from Islington's steeple they heard the clock chime,
So O'Donoghue chuckled " Bedad, we're in time."
But on they went galloping, gallant IM.P.'s,
Though Pentonville hill tried the horse's old knees,
'Twas silly of boys and bystanders to laugh !
'Neath the wheels broke the brittle mac-adam like chaff.
In the Liverpool-road was a dazzle of light.
So, "Gallop," cried Taylor, "the Hall is in sight."
92 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
" How they'll cheer us ! " but all in a moment, the hack
Fell neck and crop over, and rolled on his back,
And then were the members in pitiful plight
With the news which would make the League mad with
delight,
While the knowing old cab-driver sat on the head
Of the horse that lay sprawling, apparently dead :
For he flung off his coat when he jumped from his seat,
And uttered some words — which we need not repeat —
Unfastened the traces, and pulled at the ear.
And the nose and the tail of this "horse without peer,"
Kicked and thrashed, cursed and swore, any noise bad
or good.
Till at length to the Hall the cab galloped, and stood.
And the members will ever remember the sound
Of the shouts, as the platform they climbed from the
ground.
For no voice but was shouting stentorian " Hears,"
As the speakers were greeted with volleys of cheers,
While the President voted, that thanks from them all
Should be theirs who had brought the bad news to the
Hall!
Mr. Bayard Taylor's parody of M. Rossetti in
*'CimabueIla" is full of fine points, which emphasize
in the most efficient way some of the best points in
that distinguished poet : —
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 93
CIMABUELLA.
Fair-tinted cheeks, clear eyelids drawn
In crescent curves above the light
Of eyes, whose dim, uncertain dawn
Becomes not day : a forehead white,
Beneath long yellow heaps of hair :
She is so strange, she must be fair.
Had she sharp, slant-wise wings outspread,
She were an angel ; but she stands
With flat dead gold behind her head,
And lilies in her long thin hands.
Her folded mantle, gathered in,
Falls to her feet as it were tin.
Her nose is keen as pointed flame ;
Her crimson lips no thing express ;
And never dread of saintly blame
Held down her heavy eyelashes :
To guess what she were thinking of,
Precludeth any meaner love.
An azure carpet, fringed with gold,
Sprinkled with scarlet spots, I laid
Before her straight, cool feet unrolled :
But she nor sound, nor movement made
(Albeit I heard a soft, shy smile.
Printing her neck a moment's while) ;
And I was shamed through all my mind
For that she spake not, neither kissed,
But stared right past me. Lo ! behind
Me stood, in pink and amethyst,
Sword-girt and velvet doubleted,
A tall, gaunt youth, with frowzy head,
94 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Wide nostrils in the air, dull eyes,
Thick lips that simpered, but, ah me !
I saw, with most forlorn surprise,
He was the Thirteenth Century,
I but the Nineteenth : then despair
Curdled beneath my curling hair.
O, Love and Fate ! how could she choose
My rounded outlines, broader brain.
And my resuscitated Muse ?
Some tears she shed, but whether pain
Or joy in him unlocked their source,
I could not fathom which, of course.
But I from missals, quaintly bound,
With cither and with clavichord.
Will sing her songs of sovran sound :
Belike her pity will afford
Such faint return as suits a saint.
So sweetly done in verse and paint.
Lord Macaulay's " Roman Lays " have had their
own share of attention from parodists, as was in-
evitable. Here is a very funny adaptation of the
metre of " The Battle of the Lake Regillus " and
" The Prophecy of Capys," and of points in
" Horatius," which originally appeared in " Fun : " —
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 95
A PROPHECY OF CAPERS.
A lay of an Ancient Roamer.
Ho ! grooms, fling forth the sawdust,
Ho ! shed it on the tan,
For round the show
The troupe must go
In glittering caravan ;
In long and grand procession
Parading, one and all
Belonging to the Circus
At the Agricultural Hall.
Gay are Reform Processions,
The Lord Mayor's Show is gay,
But the Circus-ride
All else beside
Surpasses in that way,
Where piglings, born in litters,
Did late attention crave.
And implements of husbandry
The reaping hook to save ;
Where (shows of mules and bosses
Are likewise in its line).
We've had of late
A gathering great
Of fatted sheep and kine.
But nobler now the show is.
And brighter the array —
A pageant, gay and glorious,
A quite unique display
Of horsemanship
That none may whip
Is opened there this day.
96 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Tall are the iron siphons
That rise in Pentonville,
And lofty is the viaduct
You see at Holborn Hill,
Thwaites, at the Thames Embankment,
Has worked for many a year,
Beneath our highways Fowler drove
An Underground career.
But now no water-workmen
Are lound at Pentonville,
No navvies poise the girders huge
For s])anning Holborn Hill,
Unheeded on th' Embankment
Rings out the cry of " Beer ! "
Unwatched the populace may urge
Their Underground career !
The harvests at Refreshment bars
Just now young men may reap ;
Just now the banks of Lombard
The unfledged clerks may keep ;
And in the vats of Romford
Just now the brewing's done
By 'prentice hands, for all the world
Has gone to Islington.
Ho ! bandsmen, toot your bugle !
Ho ! grooms, there, clear the course,
For Mademoiselle
Will cut a swell
Upon her high-trained horse.
And here is Jones of Putney,
AMio rides the bare-backed steed ;
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 97
And here is Brown of Camberwell,
Who clears six hoops at speed ;
And here is Peckham's Perkins,
The foremost in the land,
With tinsel fillet, smiling lip.
And cracking whip, and loud Ya-hip,
Who drives eighteen-in-hand.
Make way for the procession —
Make way there, great and small —
It comes, — the troupe of Sanger,
Of the Agricultural Hall !
Praed himself, with his peculiar and sometimes
overlaboured trick of antithesis, has been several
times parodied, and once or twice with real success.
This is the happiest instance we remember : —
TO A JILT.
Some way after Praed.
When rural boroughs are not bought.
Or lovely maidens sold ;
When self is reckoned less than nought.
Or honour more than gold ;
When money does not make the man,
Or gooseberries champagne ;
When Poet Close's verses scan, —
I may be yours again !
98 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
When Tussaud's wax-works learn to think,
Or Tories to be wise ;
When local rates begin to sink ;
Or Spanish scrip to rise ;
When German princes live at home,
Or swells in I)rury-lane ;
When Dr. Gumming goes to Rome, —
I may be yours again !
When knaves and ranters cease to preach.
Or evening prints to lie ;
When tyros do not try to teach,
Or silly girls to dye ;
When Osborne quite forgets to jest.
Or Ireland to complain ;
When taxes are no more assess'd —
I may be yours again !
When law and justice both unite,
Or Swan and Edgar part ;
When London gas gives better light,
Or Ayrton takes to art ;
When Leicester-square begins to smile,
Or " Bradshaw " to be plain ;
When smart reviewers don't revile, —
I may be yours again !
When Lord Penzance shall sit no more,
Or gaols no longer stand j
When want is banished from our shore,
Or love is in the land ;
When earth is rid of every woe.
Or fools are blest with brain —
Why then, my faithless charmer, know
I may be yours again !
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 99
One of the points so admirably parodied and run
into extravagance here is the trick of antithesis.
It is odd to find that one of the greatest masters
of this trick, particularly in his satiric verse, was
Burns, one good instance being the couplet in the
^' Holy Fair : "—
Some are fu' o' love divine,
And some are fu' o' brandy.
Mr. Austin Dobson also has made very good use
of this trick in some of his lighter verse.
Barry Cornwall, with his simple and yet half-
mincing air, has formed a fine subject for parodists,
and quite recently we have met with two really
good specimens. This is one : —
Sing ! — Who sings
Of him who weareth the fine gold rings,
Ah, who is the party fine ?
The Jew I divine,
Who works the Brummagem line.
In "h's"he
Is a dealer free,
And very unpleasant company.
loo VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
The second is on his universally known poem,-
" The Sea," — and is very happy : —
THE TEA.
By Car?'y BormcaH.
The tea ! The tea ! The beef, beef-tea !
The brew from gravy-beef for me !
Without a doubt, as I'll be bound,
The best for an invalid 'tis found ;
It's better than gruel ; with sago vies ;
Or with the cradled babe's supplies.
I like beef-tea ! I like beef-tea,
I'm satisfied, and aye shall be,
With the brew I love, with the brew I know.
And take it wheresoe'er I go.
If the price should rise, or meat be cheap,
No matter ? I'll to beef-tea keep.
I love — oh, how I love to guide
The strong beef-tea to its place inside.
When round and round you stir the spoon
Or whistle thereon to cool it soon.
Because one knoweth — or ought to know,
That things get cool whereon you blow.
I never have drunk the dull souchong.
But I for my loved beef-tea did long,
And inly yearned for that bountiful zest,
Like a bird : as a child on that I messed —
And a mother it was and is to me,
For I was weaned on the beef — beef-tea !
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. loi
It is not difficult to fix the original of the
following — the first of a series which appeared
in " London," " designed to popularise in drawing-
rooms and schools the style of the latest school
of poetr}- : " —
I. MADONNA MIA.
I WOULD I were a cigarette
Between my Lady's lithe sad lips,
Where Death, like Love, divinely set,
With exquisite sighs and sips
Feeds and is fed and is not fain,
And Memory married with regret.
And Pleasure amorous of red Pain,
In moon-wise musing wax and wane ;
That with the bitter sweetness of her breath
I might some while remember and forget
(For Life is Love, and Love is Death ! )
It was my hap, ah well-a-way !
To burn my little hour away.
I would I were a gold jewel
To fleck my Lady's soft lean throat.
Where Love, like Death, lies throned to swell
A strange and tremulous note
Of yearning vague, void and vain,
Delight on flame Desire to quell,
And Pleasure fearful of red Pain,
And dreams fallen to sere and stain ;
That in the barren blossom of her breath
I might be glad we were not one but twain
(For Love is Life, and Life is Deatli !),
And that without me, well-a-way !
She could not choose but pass away.
I02 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
II. S ATI ATA, LASSATA.
I HID my heart between her hands,
The fair and fragrant hands of her.
For yea ! ( I said) she understands
That maid to man should minister.
For Time (I sa?tg) is ours to-day,
And she may not gainsay him. Yea !
I set my heart beneath her feet,
The sad and subtle feet of her.
For yea ! (I said) this Love is fleet.
Nay ! and than all things crueller.
For Chance (I sang) has brought the May,
And Hfe is sweet to savour. Yea !
She looked on me with both her eyes,
The green and gracious eyes of her.
And lightly laughed in woman's wise.
And waxed than Love's self wearier.
For Life (she sighed) is hard and gray.
And Death is well worth livincr. Yea.
III. MADONNA MIA.
Her sad eyes, like strange seas
Fulfilled with memories.
Dream wistful. As they said :
— Nay 1 but dead years are dead.
For love is brief, but Spring
Hath leave to sins.
VEJiS BE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 105
Her deep brows odorous,
Yet nothing timorous,
Sigh to the sighing soul :
— Nay ! — but in Death is dole.
For Love is light, but Grief
Brings not relief!
IV. BALLATA.
Forth, Ballade, forth, filling both arms with roses,
Pale roses in a trance of bloomy doom.
And bid Madonna burnish and relume
The tarnished mirror and the torch that dozes.
For lo ! the year a radiant rose, uncloses
Her rich red heart, in fold on fold of bloom,
And petal on petal rare of perfect peace.
Where Love-in-Death, for wearihead, reposes,
Sheeted and swathed and wrapped in odour and gloom.
Yea ! like some queen, with curious spiceries
And precious nards and balms and essences
So overfair within her amorous tomb.
That Death, white Death, in lovers' wise disposes
Of her sweet stillness, like a wanton groom.
And eagerly on her lips his lips imposes.
In order to render more enjoyable the next speci-
men we propose to cite, we must first quote a stanza
from Mr. Austin Dobson's somewhat disppointing
*' Ballade of the Prodicrals." It befjins : —
I04 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Princes ! — and you most valorous
Nobles and barons of all degrees,
Hearken awhile to the prayer of us
Beggars that come from the over-seas !
Nothing we ask or of gold or fees ;
Harry us not wath the hounds, we pray !
Lo ! — for the Surcote's hem we seize —
Give us^ — -ah ! give us — but yesterday.
And this is the parody, which admirably takes
off the weak points and affected rhymes : —
THE PRODIGALS.
Dedicated to Mr. Chaplin, M.P. , Mr. Richard Power, M.P.,
and two hundred and twenty-three who followed them.
" Ministers ! — you, most serious,
Critics and statesmen of all degrees !
Hearken awhile to the motion of us, —
Senators keen for the Epsom breeze !
Nothing we ask or of posts or fees ;
Worry us not with objections, pray !
Lo, — for the speakers wig we seize —
Give us — ah ! give us — the Derby Day."
" Scots most prudent, penurious !
Irishmen busy as bumblebees !
Hearken awhile to the motion of us, — -
Senators keen for the Epsom breeze !
For Sir Joseph's sake, and his owner's, please !
(Solomon raced like fun, they say),
Lo, — for we beg on our bended knees, —
Give us — ah ! give us — the Derby Day."
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 105
"" Campbell — Assheton, be generous ! "
(But they voted such things were not the cheese.)
" Sullivan, hear us, magnanimous ! "
(But Sullivan thought with their enemies.)
And shortly they gat both of help and ease,
For a mad majority crowded to say : —
" Debate we've drunk to the dregs and lees ;
Give us — ah ! give us — the Derby Day."
Envoi.
Prince, most just was the motion of these,
And many were seen by the dusty way,
Shouting glad to the Epsom breeze,
" Give us — ah ! give us — the Derby Day ! "
Mr. Walt Whitman's very irregular and inflated
style has never been better parodied than in the
following, which also carries skilfully over into
extravagance the high-flown persistent egotism,
which seems so expressive of him : —
CAMERADOS.
Everywhere, everywhere, following me ;
Taking me by the buttonhole, pulling off my boots,
hustling me with the elbows ;
Sitting down with me to clams and the chowder-kettle ;
Plunging naked at my side into the sleek, irascible surges ;
Soothing me with a strain that I neither permit nor
prohibit ;
io6 VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY.
Flocking this way and that, reverent, eager, orotund,
irrepressible ;
Denser than sycamore leaves when the north winds are
scouring Paumanok ;
What can I do to restrain them ? nothing, verily, nothing.
Everywhere, every^vhere, crying aloud for me ;
Crying, I hear ; and I satisfy them out of my nature ;
And he that comes at the end of the feast shall find
something over.
Whatever they want I give : though it be something else,
they shall have it.
Drunkard, leper, tammanyite, small-pox and cholera
patient, shoddy, and cod-fish millionaire.
And the beautiful young men and the beautiful young
women, all the same.
Crowding, hundreds of thousands, cosmical multitudes,
Buss me and hang on my hips, and lean up to my
shoulders,
Everywhere listening to my yaulp, and glad whenever
they hear it ;
Everywhere saying, say it, Walt, we believe it.
Everywhere, everywhere
Certain writings have attained, by peculiar as-
sociations and use, such a hold on the deepest love
and reverence universally, that parody of them, in
the true sense, is inadmissible altogether. This
holds of the Holy Scriptures especially. Scarce
anything could justify such a writing, for example,
as the " Chaldee Manuscript " of Hogg, Lockhart,
VERS DE SOCIETE AND PARODY. 107
and Wilson, which Messrs. Blackwood & Son, it
may be remembered, had to cancel and withdraw
from their Magazine before it had been well issued;
so that a copy now-a-days is a rare curiosity. And
this, they did, it may be remembered too, not
because of the sins against good taste and common
reverence implied in the publication of such a
writing ; but onh' because of fear of an action
for libel. Very astonished were we to read in
Professor Ferrier's Introduction to the " Noctes
Ambrosiaena " of Professor Wilson, that it would
form a very suitable appendix to the work, and
that "the people of the pre
