A Century of Parody and Imitation — A Reader’s Guide

Structural Anchors: <em>Rejected Addresses</em> and the Chronological Frame

The editors use Rejected Addresses as both a historical starting point and a structural keystone. By reprinting it in full, they establish a benchmark for the parodic mode that follows. The volume then proceeds chronologically, but with deliberate flexibility: the “century” extends backward to include pre-1812 parodists like George Ellis and forward to Andrew Lang, who died in 1912. This framing allows readers to trace shifts in technique—from broad burlesque to more refined imitation—across successive generations.

The prefatory note explicitly justifies this structure, noting that some of the best parodies are of forgotten originals, so the chronological arrangement helps contextualize the evolving standards of execution and taste. The editors also exclude living parodists (such as Owen Seaman and Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch) as a “self-denying ordinance,” which further defines the collection’s historical scope.

Recurring Motifs: Mugs, Caïques, and Orientalist Props

Certain images recur across the parodies, linking disparate pieces. Drinking vessels appear in multiple forms: Francis Fawkes’s “Dear Jack” turns a mug into a memorial for a deceased tippler, while the moralizing “Thee, Thee, Only Thee” warns against love with a door-key. Orientalist tropes dominate “The Ghazul, or Oriental Love-Song,” which uses antelopes, caïques, and bulbul birds to evoke Persian poetry. The piece’s three-part structure—Rocks, Merry Bard, Caïque—mimics the ghazal form, with each section repeating a refrain.

These motifs are not merely decorative; they signal the parodist’s awareness of the original’s conventions. The editors’ inclusion of such pieces demonstrates how parody can exaggerate a source’s characteristic imagery to comic or critical effect. The vinegarette in “The Almack’s Adieu” and the “smartest black satin cravat” in the same poem further show how domestic or social props become markers of class and sentiment.

Movement Between Scenes: From Drawing Rooms to Exotic Landscapes

The parodies frequently shift settings, often within a single poem. “The Almack’s Adieu” moves from a staircase at Devonshire House to a provincial winter, then to a ballroom with Lady Frances. “The Ghazul” jumps from rocky antelope haunts to a bazaar, a terrace, and a caïque on a creek. This restless movement mirrors the originals’ own scene changes, but the parodists exaggerate the transitions for comic effect.

The editors’ selection highlights how parody can expose the artificiality of such shifts. In “Dear Jack,” the scene is static—a garden porch—but the sudden appearance of Death transforms the domestic into the macabre. The juxtaposition of high society and exotic fantasy in the same volume underscores the range of settings that nineteenth-century poets employed, and the parodists’ ability to mimic them all.

Voice and Persona: The Parodist’s Chameleon Act

Each parody adopts a distinct voice, often through a named persona. “Dear Jack” is attributed to Francis Fawkes and speaks as a convivial drinker. “The Ghazul” uses three personae—a timid antelope, a merry bard, and a caïque passenger—each with a different register. The bard’s self-deprecating tone (“I am old and hideous. One of my eyes is out”) contrasts with the antelope’s wistful longing and the caïque’s lyrical address to the bulbul.

The editors’ prefatory note quotes Isaac D’Israeli: “unless the prototype is familiar to us a parody is nothing.” Yet the collection includes parodies of forgotten originals, suggesting that the voice itself can carry the effect. The chameleon-like shifts in persona demonstrate the parodist’s skill at inhabiting another’s style, whether mimicking a drinking song, an Orientalist ode, or a society lament.

Readers will find that the collection rewards attention to the interplay between form and content. The editors’ chronological arrangement and prefatory remarks provide a framework, but the parodies themselves invite comparison: how does a 1812 imitation differ from one from 1890? The recurring motifs and scene changes offer a lens for observing the evolution of parody as a critical art. Approach the volume as a series of experiments in voice and structure, each responding to its original with a mixture of homage and satire.

I have spent long afternoons among these playful parodies, watching how imitation becomes its own quiet commentary. Yet whenever I close that anthology, my thoughts drift to The poetical works of Janet Little, the Scotch milkmaid — Story, Setting & Ideas, whose earnest voice needed no borrowed echoes. Both speak of finding one's own cadence—one through laughter, the other through simple truth.