Perverted Proverbs: A Manual of Immorals for the Many — A Reader’s Guide

The Mock-Didactic Frame

The book's dedication and foreword are not mere preliminaries; they establish the work's central conceit. Graham addresses Helen Whitney with exaggerated humility, calling his own work a "bantling book of Rhyme" and comparing himself to a "groundling bard." This self-mockery continues in the foreword, where he claims to be "unmoved" by critics who say he "Corrupt[s] the Youthful Generation," likening himself to Socrates. He also name-drops Byron, Browning, and Andrew Lang, creating a lineage of misunderstood or irreverent writers. The foreword's final stanza insists he "strive[s] to paint things as they Are" and bars "flow'ry metaphors," a claim immediately undercut by the elaborate rhymes and classical allusions. This framing invites readers to treat the proverbs that follow as a deliberate inversion of didactic literature, not a sincere moral guide.

Recurring Patterns of Subversion

Each proverb in the collection follows a consistent structure: a familiar saying is stated in a quatrain, then a parenthetical couplet offers a cynical or absurd twist. For example, the proverb "A stitch in time saves nine" becomes "Half a loafer is never well-bred, / And Self-Praise is a Dangerous Thing. / And the Mice are at play / When the Cat is away, / For a moment, inspecting a King. / (Tho' if Care kills a Cat, as the Proverbs declare, / It is right to suppose that the King will take care.)" The parenthetical often introduces a non sequitur or a literal-minded reinterpretation. Another pattern is the use of Latin tags, like "De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum," which Graham twists into a joke about throwing bones near a mortuary. These recurring techniques—the quatrain-couplet structure, the sudden shift to absurdity, and the mock-scholarly asides—create a rhythm that rewards careful reading.

The Envoi and Aftword: Closing the Cycle

The book ends with an "Envoi" and an "Aftword" that mirror the opening's self-awareness. The Envoi begins with the proverb "Don't Look a Gifthorse in the Mouth" and spins a tale of a man who does so and gets bitten in the eye, concluding that the man "had got no brain." This narrative expansion is unusual in the collection, which mostly sticks to short quatrains. The Envoi then lists other gifts—a poodle, a pocketknife, a banjo, a "Lady-wife"—and warns against complaining they're "second-hand." The Aftword, titled "'Tis done! We reach the final page," directly addresses the reader with relief and a final plea for leniency: "not grumbling because this particular line doesn't happen to scan, / And this one doesn't rhyme!" This self-deprecating conclusion reinforces the book's playful tone and its awareness of its own imperfections.

Voice and Persona: The Cynical Moralist

Throughout Perverted Proverbs, Graham adopts a consistent persona: a worldly, slightly cynical moralist who pretends to offer wisdom while undercutting it. The voice is chatty and self-aware, often addressing the reader directly with phrases like "you'll find it a fact" or "I would further remark." The parenthetical asides frequently use colloquial contractions ("don't," "can't," "won't") and mock-scholarly references ("que c'est le premier passbook qui Coutts"). This persona is established in the foreword, where Graham claims to be "the true Apostle" of Realism, and continues through the proverbs, where he pretends to clarify proverbs while actually making them absurd. The effect is a sustained parody of the moralizing tone common in Victorian didactic verse, but without the heavy-handedness of satire—Graham's touch is light, and the humor comes from the gap between the expected moral and the actual punchline.

Readers approaching Perverted Proverbs should attend to the interplay between the main quatrain and the parenthetical couplet, as the humor often depends on the unexpected shift. The book rewards multiple readings, as the rhymes and references—to figures like Socrates, Byron, and Andrew Lang—gain resonance with familiarity. Graham's pseudonym, Col. D. Streamer, adds another layer of irony, suggesting a military authority dispensing immoral advice. This is a work best enjoyed as a playful, irreverent companion to the proverbs it twists, not as a systematic critique.

Flipping through Graham’s sharp little verses, I found myself smiling at how gently he skewers earnest moralizing—and that reminded me of another voice doing something similar from a different angle. There’s a quiet kinship in how both unsettle received wisdom, though two centuries apart. It made me think of the A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral Character of the late Samuel Johnson (1786) — Context and Discussion, and how praise itself can be a sly form of critique.