The Devil's Dictionary was begun in a weekly paper in 1881, and was continued in a desultory way at long intervals until 1906. In that year a large part of it was published in covers with the title The Cynic's Word Book, a name which the author had not the power to reject or happiness to approve. To quote the publishers of the present work:
"This more reverent title had previously been forced upon him by the religious scruples of the last newspaper in which a part of the work had appeared, with the natural consequence that when it came out in covers the country already had been flooded by its imitators with a score of 'cynic' books—The Cynic's This, The Cynic's That, and The Cynic's t'Other. Most of these books were merely stupid, though some of them added the distinction of silliness. Among them, they brought the word 'cynic' into disfavor so deep that any book bearing it was discredited in advance of publication."
Meantime, too, some of the enterprising humorists of the country had helped themselves to such parts of the work as served their needs, and many of its definitions, anecdotes, phrases and so forth, had become more or less current in popular speech. This explanation is made, not with any pride of priority in trifles, but in simple denial of possible charges of plagiarism, which is no trifle. In merely resuming his own the author hopes to be held guiltless by those to whom the work is addressed—enlightened souls who prefer dry wines to sweet, sense to sentiment, wit to humor and clean English to slang.
A conspicuous, and it is hoped not unpleasant, feature of the book is its abundant illustrative quotations from eminent poets, chief of whom is that learned and ingenius cleric, Father Gassalasca Jape, S.J., whose lines bear his initials. To Father Jape's kindly encouragement and assistance the author of the prose text is greatly indebted.
Hwæt! wē Gār-Dena in geār-dagum
þēod-cyninga þrym gefrūnon,
hū þā æðelingas ellen fremedon.
Oft Scyld Scēfing sceaðena þrēatum,
monegum mǣgðum meodo-setla oftēah.
Egsode eorl, syððan ǣrest wearð
fēa-sceaft funden: hē þæs frōfre gebād,
wēox under wolcnum, weorð-myndum ðāh,
oð þæt him ǣghwylc þāra ymb-sittendra
ofer hron-rāde hȳran scolde,
gomban gyldan: þæt wæs gōd cyning!
þǣm eafera wæs æfter cenned
geong in geardum, þone god sende
folce tō frōfre; fyren-þearfe ongeat,
þæt hīe ǣr drugon aldor-lēase
lange hwīle. Him þæs līf-frēa,
wuldres wealdend, worold-āre forgeaf;
Bēowulf wæs brēme (blǣd wīde sprang),
Scyldes eafera Scede-landum in.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may
be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well
fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered
the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you
heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and
she told me all about it."
Mr. Bennet made no answer.
"Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife
impatiently.
"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."
This was invitation enough.
There's a voice that keeps on calling me. Down the road, that's where I'll always be. Every stop I make, I make a new friend. Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again. Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down, Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.
Hey there where ya goin', not exactly knowin', who says you have to call just one place home. He's goin' everywhere, B.J. McKay and his best friend Bear. He just keeps on movin', ladies keep improvin', every day is better than the last. New dreams and better scenes, and best of all I don't pay property tax. Rollin' down to Dallas, who's providin' my palace, off to New Orleans or who knows where. Places new and ladies, too, I'm B.J. McKay and this is my best friend Bear.