The Victorians didn't have internet porn or reality TV. Not even WrestleMania. So how did they while away those long winter evenings? Episodes of Mr DThe Victorians didn't have internet porn or reality TV. Not even WrestleMania. So how did they while away those long winter evenings? Episodes of Mr Dickens's charming serialized novels were maddeningly infrequent, and publicly ostracizing those judged to be morally inferior, though fun and necessary, was hardly a full-time pursuit.
Fortunately, there were people like George Washington Moon, ready to fill that entertainment vacuum. Like many an educated Victorian gentleman, George read the august Dean of Canterbury's essays instructing lesser mortals on the proper use of the Queen's English. AND HE FOUND THEM WANTING. A lesser man might have sneered inwardly over his glass of port and left it at that. But George knew that this would be a dereliction of responsibility. He owed it to the world to set things right. He became a man with a mission. The Dean's crimes had to be exposed to the world. As he explains so forcefully in his introduction to this hilarious piece of sustained invective, nothing personal against the Dean, it's just that
"He who hunts down and pillories a slang phrase, a vulgarism, a corruption of any kind, is a public benefactor. In the fulfillment of the sacred trust which rests on him as an educated man, he adds a stone to the bulwark of his nation's safety and greatness."
He's just doing his duty to protect the Empire. Furthermore, he reminds us that
"The power of sneering was given to man to be used; and nothing is more gratifying than to see an idea which is proving a nuisance, sent clattering away with a hue and cry after it, and a tin kettle tied to its tail".
All this is by way of a warmup, alerting us that things might get a little bloody once he really hits his stride. Which he does, for 154 well-argued, magnificently contemptuous, pages. G.W. Moon is relentless. The Dean never stands a chance.
The whole fracas was the Victorian equivalent of a PayPerView televised cage match between Stone Cold Steve Austin and "The Rock". Hulk Hogan versus Rowdy Roddy Piper. Bret Harte versus Shawn Michaels. Alexis versus Krystle. Moon unleashed his invective in instalments, after each episode, the Doctor would gamely try to defend himself, only to be further bloodied in the next round. AS the fight unfolded, all of Britain's educated class watched from the sidelines, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. In the words of "The Phonetic Journal"
".... to those who enjoy a controversy, conducted with consummate skill and in excellent taste, by a strong man, well armed, it is such a treat as does not fall in one's way often during a lifetime."
So the mauling of the Dean was accomplished in instalments, avidly followed by the entire educated class of Britain, and later by the intellectual class in the U.S. One senses that his death, in 1870, must have come as a welcome release.
The chapters by G.W. Moon form the core of this book. An appendix contains several reviews of the Dean's book by independent sources, as well as reviews that address both the Dean's book and Moon's critiques. The verdict is fairly uniform -- the body lying bleeding on the mat at the end of the final round is that of the Dean.
I'll confess to a fatal weakness for this kind of thing. A literary cage match between two public intellectuals? About English usage? Where the rules of decorum must be observed, so that the nastiness has to be polite (always the most fun)? I want a front row seat.
Through the magic of digitization of content, we can all have a front row seat for this particular match of the century. Just follow the link -
I wish I could remember the exact search parameters that led me to discover this gem, but no matter. The important thing is that I did find it. It's dI wish I could remember the exact search parameters that led me to discover this gem, but no matter. The important thing is that I did find it. It's discoveries like this that make the wholesale scanning of old books into that insatiable e-library in the clouds a worthwhile exercise.
A note of clarification. According to the goodreads rating definitions, 5 stars mean that a book was "amazing". Not necessarily brilliant, or even good. Just amazing. There are books that amaze us by their badness. For instance, any collection of the poetry of the unforgettable William McGonagall. Or the infinitely hilarious English as She Is Spoke: Being a Comprehensive Phrasebook of the English Language, Written by Men to Whom English Was Entirely Unknown. This book more than earns its place in the pantheon of truly bad books. The question is, does it manage to be so appallingly dreadful that it achieves its own kind of greatness?
I believe that it does. Though it falls short of threatening McGonagall's tenacious hold on the crown of the world's worst writer, there are passages that are simply breathtaking in their badness. I will limit myself to quoting just three in this review, but I sincerely hope that these will convince you to seek out the entire online text (a skimpy 50 pages that house a stunning gallery of crimes against the language). Should you do so, please don't try to read more than a few pages in one session. Such a high concentration of linguistic mayhem could be enough to unhinge the mind.
A little background for what follows. Angus McDiarmid is a hunting guide who works on the estate of the Earl of Breadalbane. A visiting Gentleman is so taken with Angus's unique descriptions of his surroundings that he arranges to have them published, in their original form, with no editorial interference.
Here follows the evidence that I believe qualifies this slim volume for inclusion in the Pantheon of Shame:
Exhibit A - (taken from the dedication)
To the right honourable Earl of Breadalbane. May it please your Lordship, With overpowering sentiments of the most profound humility, I prostrate myself at your noble feet.... With tumid emotions of heart-distending pride, and with fervescent feelings of gratitude, I beg leave to acknowledge the honor I have to serve so noble a master... That your Lordship may long shine with refulgent brilliancy in the exalted station to which Providence has raised you, and that your noble family, like a bright constellation, may diffuse a splendour (sic) glory through the high sphere of their attraction...
That's some pretty inspired grovelling right there, if you ask me.
Exhibit B - from the introduction by the Gentleman instrumental in the book's publication
With a due tenderness for the Author's reputation, not a word nor a letter has been altered from his manuscripts; .... His speech, bold, rugged, and abrupt, as the rocks which defy all access but to the wing of the eagle and the vulture, bids equal defiance to those who would scan his meaning by the regular steps of criticism. Like the torrent shooting impetuously from crag to crag, his sentences, instead of flowing in a smooth and equal tenor, overleap with noble freedom the mounds and impediments of grammar, verbs, conjunctions, and adverbs, which give tameness and regularity to ordinary compositions.
Exhibit C - the first paragraph of Angus's striking and picturesque delineations
Of the different remarkable curiosity flowing from the excellencies of the cataract at Edinample, which partly perspicuously to the view of the beholders; its finitude confined between high wild rocks of asperity aspect, similar to a tract of solitude or savageness; its force emphatically overflowing three divisions; but, in the season of the water dropping from the clouds, its force increases so potently, that these divisions, almost undiscoverd, at which its incremental exorbitance transcended various objects of inquisitiveness, peradventure in manuscript, in such eminently measure, that its homogeneously could not be recognish at the interim, except existing in emblem to the waves of the ocean in tempestuous season.
"in the season of the water dropping from the clouds" is truly inspired badness. I rest my case....more
I just came across this online (it's downloadable at googlebooks). D. Streamer was a pseudonym for Harry Graham, who originated the form of the "LittlI just came across this online (it's downloadable at googlebooks). D. Streamer was a pseudonym for Harry Graham, who originated the form of the "Little Willie" poem. (Apparently there was a craze for these poems in the early part of the 20th century - newspapers would run contests and get thousands of entries).
What is a "Little Willie" poem? Usually 4 lines, AABB rhyme, but the key aspect is the macabre. Here are a few of the best-known:
Little Willie, mean as hell Drowned his sister in the well. Mother said, while drawing water, "Gee, it's hard to raise a daughter."
Little Willie found a mirror, Went and sucked the mercury off, Thinking in his childish error, It would cure his whooping cough. At the funeral, Willie's mother Sadly said to Mrs. Brown, "'Twas a chilly day for Willie When the mercury went down."
RR for HH has a couple of Little Willies, but plenty of other macabre offerings as well. How much you like it can probably be gauged by your reaction to this (fairly typical) verse:
"Misfortunes Never Come Singly"
Making toast at the fireside Nurse fell in the grate and died And, what makes it ten times worse All the toast was burned with nurse.
Sick bastard that I am, I have to admit to finding it pretty funny.
It brought back fond memories of my childhood. Caldecott is, of course, the illustrator for whom the Caldecott medal is named, and his illustrations are a complete delight.
My hands-down favorite in this book is the page where Baby Bunting comes face to face with the rabbits, and you can almost see the realization cross his little face that bunnies have to die in order for him to wear his cute little rabbit outfit.
But all of Caldecott's illustrations have a kind of sly, loopy, totally charming wit.
Warning: visiting the link above could be a total timesuck. But a thoroughly enjoyable one. The book is out of copyright and is thus downloadable in several different file formats.
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