On a topographical map of Literature Nonsense would be represented
by a small and sparsely settled country, neglected by the average
tourist, but affording keen delight to the few enlightened
travellers who sojourn within its borders. It is a field which has
been neglected by anthologists and essayists; one of its few serious
recognitions being in a certain "Treatise of Figurative Language,"
which says: "Nonsense; shall we dignify that with a place on our list?
Assuredly will vote for doing so every one who hath at all duly
noticed what admirable and wise uses it can be, and often is, put to,
though never before in rhetoric has it been so highly honored. How
deeply does clever or quaint nonsense abide in the memory, and for
how many a decade--from earliest youth to age's most venerable years."
And yet Hazlitt's "Studies in Jocular Literature" mentions six
divisions of the Jest, and omits Nonsense!
Perhaps, partly because of such neglect, the work of the best
nonsense writers is less widely known than it might be.
But a more probable reason is that the majority of the reading world
does not appreciate or enjoy real nonsense, and this, again, is
consequent upon their inability to discriminate between nonsense of
integral merit and simple chaff.
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it. Never in the tongue
Of him that makes it,
and a sense of nonsense is as distinct a part of our mentality as a
sense of humor, being by no means identical therewith.
It is a fad at present for a man to relate a nonsensical story, and
then, if his hearer does not laugh, say gravely: "You have no sense
of humor. That is a test story, and only a true humorist laughs at it."
Now, the hearer may have an exquisite sense of humor, but he may be
lacking in a sense of nonsense, and so the story gives him no
pleasure. De Quincey said, "None but a man of extraordinary talent
can write first-rate nonsense." Only a short study of the subject is
required to convince us that De Quincey was right; and he might have
added, none but a man of extraordinary taste can appreciate
first-rate nonsense. As an instance of this, we may remember that
Edward Lear, "the parent of modern nonsense-writers," was a talented
author and artist, and a prime favorite of such men as Tennyson and
the Earls of Derby; and John Ruskin placed Lear's name at the head
of his list of the best hundred authors.
"Don't tell me," said William Pitt, "of a man's being able to talk
sense; every one can talk sense. Can he talk nonsense?"
The sense of nonsense enables us not only to discern pure nonsense,
but to consider intelligently nonsense of various degrees of purity.
Absence of sense is not necessarily nonsense, any more than absence
of justice is injustice.
Etymologically speaking, nonsense may be either words without meaning,
or words conveying absurd or ridiculous ideas. It is the second
definition which expresses the great mass of nonsense literature,
but there is a small proportion of written nonsense which comes
under the head of language without meaning.
Again, there are verses composed entirely of meaningless words,
which are not nonsense literature, because they are written with
some other intent.
The nursery rhyme, of which there are almost as many versions as
there are nurseries,
Eena, meena, mona, mi,
Bassalona, bona, stri,
Hare, ware, frown, whack,
Halico balico, we, wi, we, wack,
is not strictly a nonsense verse, because it was invented and used
for "counting out," and the arbitrary words simply take the place of
the numbers 1, 2, 3, etc.
Also, the nonsense verses with which students of Latin composition
are sometimes taught to begin their efforts, where words are used
with no relative meaning, simply to familiarize the pupil with the
mechanical values of quantity and metre, are not nonsense. It is
only nonsense for nonsense' sake that is now under our consideration.
Doubtless the best and best-known example of versified words without
meaning is "Jabberwocky." Although (notwithstanding Lewis Carroll's
explanations) the coined words are absolutely without meaning, the
rhythm is perfect and the poetic quality decidedly apparent, and the
poem appeals to the nonsense lover as a work of pure genius. Bayard
Taylor is said to have recited "Jabberwocky" aloud for his own
delectation until he was forced to stop by uncontrollable laughter.
To us who know our _Alice_ it would seem unnecessary to quote this
poem, but it is a fact that among the general reading community the
appreciators of Lewis Carroll are surprisingly few. An editor of a
leading literary review, when asked recently if he had read
"Alice in Wonderland," replied, "No, but I mean to. It is by the
author of 'As in a looking-Glass,' is it not?"
But of far greater interest and merit than nonsense of words, is
nonsense of ideas. Here, again, we distinguish between nonsense and
no sense. Ideas conveying no sense are often intensely funny, and
this type is seen in some of the best of our nonsense literature.
A perfect specimen is the bit of evidence read by the White Rabbit
at the Trial of the Knave of Hearts.[1] One charm of these verses is
the serious air of legal directness which pervades their ambiguity,
and another is the precision with which the metrical accent
coincides exactly with the natural emphasis. They are marked, too,
by the liquid euphony that always distinguishes Lewis Carroll's
poetry.
A different type is found in verses that refer to objects in terms
the opposite of true, thereby suggesting ludicrous incongruity, and
there is also the nonsense verse that uses word effects which have
been confiscated by the poets and tacitly given over to them.
A refrain of nonsense words is a favorite diversion of many
otherwise serious poets.
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
is one of Shakespeare's many musical nonsense refrains.
[Footnote 1: "She's all my Fancy painted him," page 20.]
Burns gives us:
Ken ye aught o' Captain Grose?
Igo and ago,
If he's 'mang his freens or foes?
Iram, coram, dago.
Is he slain by Highlan' bodies?
Igo and ago;
And eaten like a weather haggis?
Iram, coram, dago.
Another very old refrain runs thus:
Forum, corum, sunt di-vorum,
Harum, scarum, divo;
Tag-rag, merry-derry, periwig and hat-band,
Hic, hoc, horum, genitivo.
An old ballad written before the Reformation has for a refrain:
Sing go trix,
Trim go trix,
Under the greenwood tree.
While a celebrated political ballad is known by its nonsense chorus,
Lilliburlero bullin a-la.
Mother Goose rhymes abound in these nonsense refrains, and they are
often fine examples of onomatopoeia.
By far the most meritorious and most interesting kind of nonsense is
that which embodies an absurd or ridiculous idea, and treats it with
elaborate seriousness. The greatest masters of this art are
undoubtedly Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll. These Englishmen were men
of genius, deep thinkers, and hard workers.
Lear was an artist draughtsman, his subjects being mainly
ornithological and zoological. Lewis Carroll (Charles L. Dodgson)
was an expert in mathematics and a lecturer on that science in
Christ Church, Oxford.
Both these men numbered among their friends many of the greatest
Englishmen of the day. Tennyson was a warm friend and admirer of each,
as was also John Ruskin.
Lear's first nonsense verses, published in 1846, are written in the
form of the well-known stanza beginning:
There was an old man of Tobago.
This type of stanza, known as the "Limerick," is said by a gentleman
who speaks with authority to have flourished in the reign of William
IV. This is one of several he remembers as current at his public
school in 1834:
There was a young man at St. Kitts
Who was very much troubled with fits;
The eclipse of the moon
Threw him into a swoon,
When he tumbled and broke into bits.
Lear distinctly asserts that this form of verse was not invented by
him, but was suggested by a friend as a useful model for amusing
rhymes. It proved so in his case, for he published no less than two
hundred and twelve of these "Limericks."
In regard to his verses, Lear asserted that "nonsense, pure and
absolute," was his aim throughout; and remarked, further, that to
have been the means of administering innocent mirth to thousands was
surely a just excuse for satisfaction. He pursued his aim with
scrupulous consistency, and his absurd conceits are fantastic and
ridiculous, but never cheaply or vulgarly funny.
Twenty-five years after his first book came out, Lear published
other books of nonsense verse and prose, with pictures which are
irresistibly mirth-provoking. Lear's nonsense songs, while retaining
all the ludicrous merriment of his Limericks, have an added quality
of poetic harmony. They are distinctly _singable_, and many of them
have been set to music by talented composers. Perhaps the best-known
songs are "The Owl and the Pussy-Cat" and "The Daddy-Long-Legs and
the Fly."
Lear himself composed airs for "The Pelican Chorus" and "The
Yonghy-Bonghy Bo," which were arranged for the piano by Professor Pomè,
of San Remo, Italy.
Although like Lear's in some respects, Lewis Carroll's nonsense is
perhaps of a more refined type. There is less of the grotesque and
more poetic imagery. But though Carroll was more of a poet than Lear,
both had the true sense of nonsense. Both assumed the most absurd
conditions, and proceeded to detail their consequences with a simple
seriousness that convulses appreciative readers, and we find
ourselves uncertain whether it is the manner or the matter that is
more amusing.
Lewis Carroll was a man of intellect and education; his funniest
sayings are often based on profound knowledge or deep thought. Like
Lear, he never spoiled his quaint fancies by over-exaggerating their
quaintness or their fancifulness, and his ridiculous plots are as
carefully conceived, constructed, and elaborated as though they
embodied the soundest facts. No funny detail is ever allowed to
become _too_ funny; and it is in this judicious economy of
extravagance that his genius is shown. As he remarks in one of his
own poems:
Then, fourthly, there are epithets
That suit with any word--
As well as Harvey's Reading Sauce
With fish, or flesh, or bird.
Such epithets, like pepper,
Give zest to what you write;
And, if you strew them sparely,
They whet the appetite;
But if you lay them on too thick,
You spoil the matter quite!
Both Lear and Carroll suffered from the undiscerning critics who
persisted in seeing in their nonsense a hidden meaning, a cynical,
political, or other intent, veiled under the apparent foolery. Lear
takes occasion to deny this in the preface to one of his books, and
asserts not only that his rhymes and pictures have no symbolical
meaning, but that he "took more care than might be supposed to make
the subjects incapable of such misinterpretation."
Likewise, "Jabberwocky" was declared by one critic to be a
translation from the German, and by others its originality was
doubted. The truth is, that it was written by Lewis Carroll at an
evening party; it was quite impromptu, and no ulterior meaning was
intended. "The Hunting of the Snark" was also regarded by some as an
allegory, or, perhaps, a burlesque on a celebrated case, in which
the _Snark_ was used as a personification of popularity, but Lewis
Carroll protested that the poem had no meaning at all.
A favorite trick of the Nonsensists is the coining of words to suit
their needs, and Lear and Carroll are especially happy in their
inventions of this kind.
Lear gives us such gems as scroobious, meloobious, ombliferous,
borascible, slobaciously, himmeltanious, flumpetty, and mumbian;
while the best of Lewis Carroll's coined words are those found in
"Jabberwocky."
Another of the great Nonsensists is W. S. Gilbert. Unlike Lear or
Carroll, his work is not characterized by absurd words or phrases;
he prefers a still wider scope, and invents a ridiculous plot. The
"Bab Ballads," as well as Mr. Gilbert's comic opera librettos, hinge
upon schemes of ludicrous impossibility, which are treated as the
most natural proceedings in the world. The best known of the
"Bab Ballads" is no doubt "The Yarn of the 'Nancy Bell,'" which was
long since set to music and is still a popular song. In addition to
his talent for nonsense, Mr. Gilbert possesses a wonderful rhyming
facility, and juggles cleverly with difficult and unusual metres.
In regard to his "Bab Ballads," Mr. Gilbert gravely says that
"they are not, as a rule, founded on fact," and, remembering their
gory and often cannibalistic tendencies, we are grateful for this
assurance. An instance of Gilbert's appreciation of other people's
nonsense is his parody of Lear's verse:
There was an old man in a tree
Who was horribly bored by a bee;
When they said, "Does it buzz?"
He replied, "Yes, it does!
It's a regular brute of a bee!"
The parody attributed to Gilbert is called "A Nonsense Rhyme in
Blank Verse":
There was an old man of St. Bees,
Who was stung in the arm by a wasp;
When they asked, "Does it hurt?"
He replied, "No, it doesn't,
But I thought all the while 'twas a Hornet!"
Thackeray wrote spirited nonsense, but much of it had an
under-meaning, political or otherwise, which bars it from the field
of sheer nonsense.
The sense of nonsense is no respecter of persons; even staid old
Dr. Johnson possessed it, though his nonsense verses are marked by
credible fact and irrefutable logic. Witness these two examples:
As with my hat upon my head
I walked along the Strand,
I there did meet another man
With his hat in his hand.
The tender infant, meek and mild,
Fell down upon the stone;
The nurse took up the squealing child,
But still the child squealed on.