I’m now translating the comic monologues of Charles Cros (1842-1888), and am consequently unraveling the various versions of his first one, Le hareng saur. It’s not only one of Cros’s most popular poems, still dutifully recited by French schoolchildren, but one of the few translated into English. Most English readers, if they know Cros at all, know him for “The Salt Herring.”

This is mostly due to Edward Gorey’s illustrated version, first published in a limited edition in 1971, and subsequently included in his collection Amphigorey Too. Tammy Grimes also recorded it on her album Gorey by Grimes.

Gorey credits the English translation to Alphonse Allais, and it’s included in François Caradec’s edition of Allais’s complete work. There seems to be a problem, though.

Paul Allais (Alphonse’s brother) noted in 1880 that Alphonse read an English version to the Hydropathes, a group of bohos devoted to writing poetry and avoiding water, which included both Cros and Allais. The Irish writer George Moore included a translation in his book Memoirs of My Dead Life, and it’s often assumed that he got it from Allais..

However, Moore never mentions either Allais or Cros, but credits the poem to the composer Ernest Cabaner, who did indeed set it to music. Furthermore, he gives slightly different versions in the various editions of his Memoirs (1906, 1923, and 1926), which leads me to believe that he was the one who translated it. Gorey used the 1926 version.

Cros himself published two versions of the poem, one in 1872 and one in 1880; it was the latter that became popular. Moore’s translation is freely based on that one; for some reason, though, he omitted the first three lines.

Harold B. Segel, in his book Turn-of-the-century Cabaret (1987), assumes that Allais read to the Hydropathes from Moore’s book, which seems unlikely, since the reading was in 1880, Allais died in 1905, and Moore’s book came out in 1906.

Here, at any rate, is Moore’s first version:

THE SONG OF THE “SALT HERRING”

He came along holding in his hands dirty, dirty, dirty,
A big nail pointed, pointed, pointed,
And a hammer heavy, heavy, heavy,
He propped the ladder high, high, high,
Against the wall white, white, white,
He went up the ladder high, high,
Placed the nail pointed, pointed, pointed,
Against the wall—toc! toc! toc!
He tied to the nail a string long, long, long,
And at the end of it a salt herring dry, dry, dry,
Then letting fall the hammer heavy, heavy, heavy,
He got down from the ladder high, high, high,
Picked up the ladder and went away, away, away.
Since then at the end of the string long, long, long,
A salt herring dry, dry, dry,
Has swung slowly, slowly, slowly.
Now I have composed this story simple, simple, simple,
To make all serious men mad, mad, mad,
And to amuse little children tiny, tiny, tiny.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)