More Misrepresentative Men

In Short

More Misrepresentative Men is a spirited collection of light, humorous poetry that offers satirical portraits of famous personalities, ranging from Robert Burns and Henry VIII to Sherlock Holmes and J.M. Barrie. Rather than providing accurate historical accounts, the book leans into caricature and absurdity, mocking the foibles of its subjects with a sharp, rhythmic wit. Written in the early 20th century, the volume has endured as a charming example of "society verse," capturing the playful, cynical spirit of its era while poking fun at the self-importance of the famous.

The Story

The collection begins with a playful tug-of-war between the author and his publisher, setting a tone of mock-adversarial camaraderie. Through a series of rhymed biographies, the poet dissects the lives of various icons, often grounding his humor in the tension between their public prestige and their private human failings.

Robert Burns is presented not merely as a poet of "clear and spacious skies," but as a man whose thirst for alcohol and complex romantic life often outshone his literary output. The author juxtaposes Burns’s poetic brilliance with a ribald personal history, suggesting that his "lofty genius" was tempered by a humanity that was "perhaps, indeed, a trifle more so" than that of common men. Moving from the literary to the social, the author turns his gaze toward William Waldorf Astor, whom he paints as an comically excessive patriot. Astor is mocked for his refusal to leave the comforts of New York, preferring his "cabbage-patch on Coney Island" to the allure of European travel, a domestic obsession that the author finds both amusing and slightly pathetic.

The historical figures fare no better. Henry VIII is reduced to a "perfect little devil" whose reign was defined not by statecraft, but by his pathological need for marriage. The author notes that Henry’s "matrimonial bubble" burst six times, suggesting that he was a man who missed his true vocation, which should have been a "widower by occupation." In contrast, the political figure Alton B. Parker is characterized by his "extraordinary sense of Duty" and his rural, "bucolic" origins, which the author presents as a quaint, slightly dull counterpoint to the political theater of the time.

The book then shifts to intellectual figures like Euclid, who is imagined as an inept bridge player who spent his time on the Nile struggling with basic geometry and failing to grasp the rules of his own invented games. J.M. Barrie is treated with a mixture of mockery and genuine affection, depicted as a man whose "huge heart" and fairy-pen make him a magnet for children, even as his sentimentality invites ridicule. Finally, the collection reaches the fictional realm with Sherlock Holmes. The great detective is shown retiring to keep bees, a move that the author treats as a relief, particularly because it brings about the "timely termination" of Dr. Watson’s chronicling. The book concludes with a defiant "Aftword" to the critics, mocking the very idea of poetic originality and encouraging readers to buy the book as a cheap, mindless gift for relatives.

How It Unfolds

The poet’s lament The opening sequence establishes the author’s cynical professional struggle, framing the act of writing as a desperate, debt-ridden labor performed for demanding, "modern Circe" publishers.

The literary and social critiques The middle section moves through a series of portraits, mocking the "robustious" nature of Scottish poets like Burns and the rigid, stay-at-home patriotism of wealthy figures like Astor.

Historical and political absurdities The narrative turns toward the past and the political sphere, treating Henry VIII as a serial husband and Alton B. Parker as a judge whose moral "ermine" hides a history of farm work and chewing gum.

Intellectuals and icons The focus shifts to figures of logic and imagination, lampooning Euclid’s inability to play cards and Barrie’s intense, fairy-obsessed public persona.

The final deduction The collection closes with a farewell to Sherlock Holmes, who is sent off to his bee-keeping retirement, before ending with a mocking address to critics and potential buyers.

The People

Robert Burns serves as the volume's archetypal "human" genius, a man who combines sublime poetic ability with a chaotic, drink-fueled romantic life. William Waldorf Astor acts as the foil to the international socialite, representing a stubborn, narrow-minded patriotism that prioritizes American comforts above all else. Henry VIII appears as the personification of matrimonial excess, a figure whose royal status serves only to amplify his domestic failures.

Euclid is reimagined as a bumbling, blue-spectacled professor who is entirely out of his element in social settings, particularly at a card table. J.M. Barrie is portrayed as a man of excessive sentimentality, whose "fairy-pen" connects him to children and "modern matrons" alike, yet makes him an easy target for those who find his whimsy cloying. Finally, Sherlock Holmes represents the ultimate target of the author’s satire; he is the hyper-rationalist who must be removed from the scene so that the world can finally be free of his constant deductions and his "parasitic" companion, Dr. Watson. Each subject is stripped of their pedestal, rendered as a slightly ridiculous version of their public self.

In Its Own Voice

The author (like the dentist) lives A hand-to-mouth existence; And Publishers, those modern Circes, Make pig's-ear purses of his verses.

The author reflects on the grim, transactional reality of the writing life in his opening note to the publisher.

"A poor thing but my own," said he, His fair but fickle bride denoting, And she, with scathing repartee, Assented, wilfully misquoting... "A poorer thing--and yet my owner!"

The poet recounts a fictional, tense exchange between Robert Burns and his wife regarding their marriage.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is a playful argument against the idolization of famous men. It suggests that behind every historical figure, author, or detective lies a collection of petty habits, poor judgment, and absurd contradictions. The author implies that greatness is often a matter of perception rather than substance, and that history is as much a product of human error as it is of achievement. It is a work that questions the validity of "reputation," suggesting that if we look closely enough at the icons we celebrate, we will find only "incoherent medleys" of common, often foolish, human behavior.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the sharp, dry wit of British light verse will find much to admire here. The book is a time capsule of early 20th-century sensibilities, offering a glimpse into how icons of that era were viewed by their contemporaries. However, the reader should be prepared for the dense, often archaic references to figures who have long since faded from common knowledge, as well as the period-specific attitudes that define the author’s world. It is a rhythmic, jaunty read, but one that demands a familiarity with the literary and historical landscape of the 1900s.

The experience of reading it is similar to watching a gifted debater dismantle a statue with a small, sharp hammer; the skill is in the precision of the rhyming and the audacity of the mockery. While some of the humor relies on dated stereotypes and the specific, sometimes clunky "Scotch" dialect the author lampoons, the underlying cynicism remains relatable. It is a perfect choice for those who prefer their biography with a heavy dose of irony and a total lack of reverence for the "greats." It leaves you with the lingering, slightly mischievous thought that no one, no matter how famous, is truly as impressive as their public image suggests.