5 Wonderous Wonderlands and the Lasting Impact of Lewis Carroll

The Reverend Dodgson was not above parody himself.

Here is one of his lessor known works, targeting Longfellow.

From his shoulder Hiawatha 
Took the camera of rosewood, 
Made of sliding, folding rosewood; 
Neatly put it all together. 
In its case it lay compactly, 
Folded into nearly nothing; 
But he opened out the hinges, 
Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges, 
Till it looked all squares and oblongs, 
Like a complicated figure 
In the Second Book of Euclid.

This he perched upon a tripod – 
Crouched beneath its dusky cover – 
Stretched his hand, enforcing silence – 
Said “Be motionless, I beg you!” 
Mystic, awful was the process.

All the family in order 
Sat before him for their pictures: 
Each in turn, as he was taken, 
Volunteered his own suggestions, 
His ingenious suggestions.

First the Governor, the Father: 
He suggested velvet curtains 
Looped about a massy pillar; 
And the corner of a table, 
Of a rosewood dining-table. 
He would hold a scroll of something, 
Hold it firmly in his left-hand; 
He would keep his right-hand buried 
(Like Napoleon) in his waistcoat; 
He would contemplate the distance 
With a look of pensive meaning, 
As of ducks that die in tempests.

Grand, heroic was the notion: 
Yet the picture failed entirely: 
Failed, because he moved a little, 
Moved, because he couldn’t help it.

Next, his better half took courage; 
She would have her picture taken. 
She came dressed beyond description, 
Dressed in jewels and in satin 
Far too gorgeous for an empress. 
Gracefully she sat down sideways, 
With a simper scarcely human, 
Holding in her hand a bouquet 
Rather larger than a cabbage. 
All the while that she was sitting, 
Still the lady chattered, chattered, 
Like a monkey in the forest. 
“Am I sitting still ?” she asked him. 
“Is my face enough in profile? 
Shall I hold the bouquet higher? 
Will it come into the picture?” 
And the picture failed completely.

Next the Son, the Stunning-Cantab: 
He suggested curves of beauty, 
Curves pervading all his figure, 
Which the eye might follow onward, 
Till they centered in the breast-pin, 
Centered in the golden breast-pin. 
He had learnt it all from Ruskin 
(Author of “The Stones of Venice”, 
“Seven Lamps of Architecture”, 
“Modern Painters”, and some others); 
And perhaps he had not fully 
Understood his author’s meaning; 
But, whatever was the reason 
All was fruitless, as the picture 
Ended in an utter failure.

Next to him the eldest daughter: 
She suggested very little 
Only asked if he would take her 
With her look of “passive beauty”-

Her idea of passive beauty 
Was a squinting of the left-eye, 
Was a drooping of the right-eye, 
Was a smile that went up Sideways 
To the corner of the nostrils.

Hiawatha, when she asked him 
Took no notice of the question 
Looked as if he hadn’t heared it; 
But, when pointedly appealed to, 
Smiled in his peculiar manner, 
Coughed and said it “didn’t matter”, 
Bit his lip and changed the subject.

Nor in this was he mistaken, 
As the picture failed completely.

So in turn the other sisters.

Last, the youngest son was taken: 
Very rough and thick his hair was, 
Very round and red his face was, 
Very dusty was his jacket, 
Very fidgety his manner. 
And his overbearing sisters 
Called him names he disapproved of: 
Called him Johnny, “Daddy’s Darling”, 
Called him Jacky, “Scrubby School-boy”. 
And, so awful was the picture, 
In comparison the others 
Seemed, to one’s bewildered fancy, 
To have partially succeeded.

Finally my Hiawatha 
Tumbled all the tribe together, 
(“Grouped” is not the right expression), 
And, as happy chance would have it, 
Did at last obtain a picture 
Where the faces all succeeded: 
Each came out a perfect likeness.

Then they joined and all abused it, 
Unrestrainedly abused it, 
As the worst and ugliest picture 
They could possibly have dreamed of. 
“Giving one such strange expressions– 
Sullen, stupid, pert expressions. 
Really any one would take us 
(Any one that did not know us) 
For the most unpleasant people!” 
(Hiawatha seemed to think so, 
Seemed to think it not unlikely). 
All together rang their voices, 
Angry, loud, discordant voices, 
As of dogs that howl in concert, 
As of cats that wail in chorus.

But my Hiawatha’s patience, 
His politeness and his patience, 
Unaccountably had vanished, 
And he left that happy party. 
Neither did he leave them slowly, 
With the calm deliberation, 
The intense deliberation 
Of a photographic artist: 
But he left them in a hurry, 
Left them in a mighty hurry, 
Stating that he would not stand it, 
Stating in emphatic language 
What he’d be before he’d stand it. 
Hurriedly he packed his boxes: 
Hurriedly the porter trundled 
On a barrow all his boxes: 
Hurriedly he took his ticket: 
Hurriedly the train received him: 
Thus departed Hiawatha.

@@@@@ 17, John Elliott:

In an age of imitation, I can claim no special merit for this slight attempt at doing what is known to be so easy.

Dodgson speaks with characteristic, but mistaken, modesty.

You need but compare his delightful knock-off of Longfellow, with my dog’s dinner parody of Carroll, to see the difference.

Randall Garrett echoed Carroll, discussing his wonderful Reviews in Verse.

My inspiration for this work was a New Yorker named Newman Levy. By profession, he was a lawyer, but a a hobby he constructed light verse. (And “construct” is the word! Good light verse is an engineering problem, since unlike “serious” poetry, it should be absolutely perfect in meter, rhyme, and sense..) During the Roaring Twenties, Newman Levy turned out dozens of them, and manny were, like mine, “Reviews in Verse”—although he never used that phrase that I know of.

Levy’s Opera Guyed, published by Alfred Knopf, is almost a textbook on How To Do It. So is his Theater Guyed. Many of his works are quoted and printed today (the copyright has run out) without giving the author’s name. Do you remember “Thais”_? 

One time in Alexandria, in wicked Alexandria,

Where nights were wild in revelry, and life was but a game,

There lived, so the report is, an adventurous and courtesan,

The pride of Alexandria, and Thais was her name. 

Or his takeoff on W. Somerset Maugham’s “Rain,” the story of the Immor(t)al Sadie Thompson, which begins: 

On the isle of Pago Pago,

Land of palm trees, rice, and sago,

Where the Chinaman and Dago

Dwelt ‘mid native dusky-hued,

Lived a dissolute and shady

Bold adventuress named Sadie,

Sadie Thompson was the lady,

And the life she lived was lewd. 

And the final line is an absolute smasher! 

Levy was a master of double and triple feminine rhyme, and of mosaic rhyme (“report is, an”—“courtesan”). His stuff rolls off the tongue. 

So I decided to try to do for science fiction what Newman Levy had done for opera and the theater. 

Was Randall successful? Here’s the start of his version of Lest Darkness Fall. 

The reader’s tossed into this tale with great impetuosity.

The hero, struck by lightning, sees a burst of luminosity!

His vision clears, and he is overcome with curiosity—

The lighting’s tossed him back in Time to ancient Gothic Rome!

At first, poor Martin Padway thinks he’s stricken with insanity,

To find himself immersed in early Roman Christianity.

But finally he buckles down to face it with urbanity;

He knows that he’s forever stuck and never will get home. 

Now, Europe’s just about to start the Age of Faith and Piety,

And such an awful future fills our hero with anxiety.

So he begins to bolster up this barbarous society

With modernistic gadgets that the Romans haven’t got.

A moneylending Syrian of singular sagacity

Succumbs, in time, to Mr. P’s remarkable tenacity,

And, though he makes remarks decrying Martin’s vast audacity,

Proceeds to lend him quite a lot of money on the spot. 

Now, in return, our hero starts, in matter most emphatical,

To show the banker how to solve his problems mathematical.

And one clerk gets so sore he laps up and takes a leave sabbatical;

“I can’t take Arab numerals,” he says; “I’ve had my fill!”

But Mr. Padway takes the resignation with passivity,

The other men have shown a mathematical proclivity,

So, confident the system will increase their productivity,

He takes his borrowed money and goes out and buys a still.