But on balance my favourite piece of nineteenth-century Grundyism is Leigh Hunt’s revision of the insult directed at the Cook by Chaucer’s Manciple, ‘Thy breath full sour stinketh.’ He emended this to, ‘Thy breath resembleth not sweet marjoram.’
— Philip Howard, The State of the Language, 1985
During a shower of rain the Keeper of a Zoölogical garden observed a Man of Principle crouching beneath the belly of the ostrich, which had drawn itself up to its full height to sleep.
‘Why, my dear sir,’ said the Keeper, ‘if you fear to get wet you’d better creep into the pouch of yonder female kangaroo — the Saltatrix mackintosha — for if that ostrich wakes he will kick you to death in a moment!’
‘I can’t help that,’ the Man of Principle replied, with that lofty scorn of practical considerations distinguishing his species. ‘He may kick me to death if he wish, but until he does he shall give me shelter from the storm. He has swallowed my umbrella.’
— Ambrose Bierce, Fantastic Fables, 1899
Proverbs from around the world:
“With art and knavery we live through half the year,” the Italians say. “With knavery and art we live through the other.”
Kurt Vonnegut’s eight rules of writing:
“The greatest American short story writer of my generation was Flannery O’Connor. She broke practically every one of my rules but the first. Great writers tend to do that.”
(From his introduction to Bagombo Snuff Box. Thanks, Sharon.)
Edward Lear’s recipe for amblongus pie, 1872:
Take 4 pounds (say 4 1-2 pounds) of fresh Amblongusses, and put them in a small pipkin.
Cover them with water, and boil them for 8 hours incessantly; after which add 2 pints of new milk, and proceed to boil for 4 hours more.
When you have ascertained that the Amblongusses are quite soft, take them out, and place them in a wide pan, taking care to shake them well previously.
Grate some nutmeg over the surface, and cover them carefully with powdered gingerbread, curry-powder, and a sufficient quantity of Cayenne pepper.
Remove the pan into the next room, and place it on the floor. Bring it back again, and let it simmer for three-quarters of an hour. Shake the pan violently till all the Amblongusses have become of a pale purple colour.
Then, having prepared the paste, insert the whole carefully; adding at the same time a small pigeon, 2 slices of beef, 4 cauliflowers, and any number of oysters.
Watch patiently till the crust begins to rise, and add a pinch of salt from time to time.
Serve up in a clean dish, and throw the whole out of window as fast as possible.
Edgar Allan Poe’s tale “The Cask of Amontillado” is regarded today as a testament to his imagination, but in fact it was inspired by a feud with a literary rival. Poe and Thomas Dunn English had been friends, but they had a falling-out that descended into a fistfight in which Poe claimed to administer “a flogging which he will remember to the day of his death.” Thereafter the two caricatured one another in their writings — Poe even successfully sued English’s editors at the New York Mirror for libel in 1846.
In English’s novel 1844, the character Marmaduke Hammerhead is a veiled dig at Poe — he’s a liar and drunkard who is said to be the author of “The Black Crow” and uses phrases such as “Nevermore” and “lost Lenore.” It was in response to this novel that Poe wrote “The Cask of Amontillado” — the story mentions a secret society, a signal of distress, and a particular coat of arms because they all figured in English’s book. The very setting of Poe’s story derives from a scene in English’s novel that takes place in a subterranean vault.
But these associations have now been forgotten, and Poe’s story is remembered as a tale of the fantastic.
Names of the Mad Hatter in various translations of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland:
That last one’s in Middle Welsh. Though Lewis Carroll’s novel abounds in wordplay, rhymes, quotations, nonsense, homophones, logical twists, and Victorian allusions, it’s found its way into 174 languages and more than 9,000 editions around the world. Zongxin Feng of Tsinghua University in Beijing wrote, “Of all Western literary masterpieces introduced into China in the twentieth century, no other work has enjoyed such popularity.”
In an 1866 letter, Carroll had written, “Friends here [in Oxford] seem to think that the book is untranslatable.”
(Jon A. Lindseth, ed., Alice in a World of Wonderlands, 2015.)
A Highwayman confronted a Traveler, and covering him with a firearm, shouted: ‘Your money or your life!’
‘My good friend,’ said the Traveler, ‘according to the terms of your demand my money will save my life, my life my money; you imply that you will take one or the other, but not both. If that is what you mean please be good enough to take my life.’
‘That is not what I mean,’ said the Highwayman; ‘you cannot save your money by giving up your life.’
‘Then take it anyhow,’ the Traveler said. ‘If it will not save my money it is good for nothing.’
The Highwayman was so pleased with the Traveler’s philosophy and wit that he took him into partnership and this splendid combination of talent started a newspaper.
— Ambrose Bierce, Fantastic Fables, 1899
Scottish proverbs:
And “There’s naething sae gude on this side o’ time but it micht hae been better.”
(From Colin S.K. Walker, Scottish Proverbs, 2000.)
The “Swiss family Robinson” is not named Robinson. The title of Johann David Wyss’s 1812 novel shows the enormous influence of Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe even a century after its publication; the 18th century was filled with “Robinsonades” in German, Dutch, French, Danish, Swiss, Swedish, and Italian:
Teutsche Robinson, 1722
Americanische Robinson, 1724
Nordische Robinson, 1741
Hollandsche Robinson, 1743
Dänische Robinson, 1750
Walchersche Robinson, 1752
Maldivschen Philosophen Robine, 1753
Oude en Jongen Robinson, 1753
Isländische Robinson, 1755
Hartz-Robinson, 1755
Robinson vom Berge Libonon, 1755
Haagsche Robinson, 1758
Robertson [sic] aux terres australes, 1766
Steyerische Robinson, 1791
Böhmische Robinson, 1796
Wyss’s marooned Swiss family is nameless.
(Gary Dexter, Why Not Catch-21?, 2007.)