Complete Works of Lewis Carroll (127 page)

Fit the Third

   THE BAKER'S TALE

They roused him with muffins—they roused him with ice—

They roused him with mustard and cress—

They roused him with jam and judicious advice—

They set him conundrums to guess.

When at length he sat up and was able to speak,

His sad story he offered to tell;

And the Bellman cried "Silence!  Not even a shriek!"

And excitedly tingled his bell.

There was silence supreme!  Not a shriek, not a scream,

Scarcely even a howl or a groan,

As the man they called "Ho!"
told his story of woe

In an antediluvian tone.

"My father and mother were honest, though poor—"

"Skip all that!"
cried the Bellman in haste.

"If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark—

We have hardly a minute to waste!"

"I skip forty years," said the Baker, in tears,

"And proceed without further remark

To the day when you took me aboard of your ship

To help you in hunting the Snark.

"A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)

Remarked, when I bade him farewell—"

"Oh, skip your dear uncle!"
the Bellman exclaimed,

As he angrily tingled his bell.

"He remarked to me then," said that mildest of men,

"'If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:

Fetch it home by all means—you may serve it with greens,

And it's handy for striking a light.

"'You may seek it with thimbles—and seek it with care;

You may hunt it with forks and hope;

You may threaten its life with a railway-share;

You may charm it with smiles and soap—'"

("That's exactly the method," the Bellman bold

In a hasty parenthesis cried,

"That's exactly the way I have always been told

That the capture of Snarks should be tried!")

"'But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,

If your Snark be a Boojum!  For then

You will softly and suddenly vanish away,

And never be met with again!'

"It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul,

When I think of my uncle's last words:

And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl

Brimming over with quivering curds!

"It is this, it is this—" "We have had that before!"

The Bellman indignantly said.

And the Baker replied "Let me say it once more.

It is this, it is this that I dread!

"I engage with the Snark—every night after dark—

In a dreamy delirious fight:

I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,

And I use it for striking a light:

"But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,

In a moment (of this I am sure),

I shall softly and suddenly vanish away—

And the notion I cannot endure!"

Fit the fourth

THE HUNTING

The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow.

"If only you'd spoken before!

It's excessively awkward to mention it now,

With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!

"We should all of us grieve, as you well may believe,

If you never were met with again—

But surely, my man, when the voyage began,

You might have suggested it then?

"It's excessively awkward to mention it now—

As I think I've already remarked."

And the man they called "Hi!"
replied, with a sigh,

"I informed you the day we embarked.

"You may charge me with murder—or want of sense—

(We are all of us weak at times):

But the slightest approach to a false pretence

Was never among my crimes!

"I said it in Hebrew—I said it in Dutch—

I said it in German and Greek:

But I wholly forgot (and it vexes me much)

That English is what you speak!"

"'Tis a pitiful tale," said the Bellman, whose face

Had grown longer at every word:

"But, now that you've stated the whole of your case,

More debate would be simply absurd.

"The rest of my speech" (he explained to his men)

"You shall hear when I've leisure to speak it.

But the Snark is at hand, let me tell you again!

'Tis your glorious duty to seek it!

"To seek it with thimbles, to seek it with care;

To pursue it with forks and hope;

To threaten its life with a railway-share;

To charm it with smiles and soap!

"For the Snark's a peculiar creature, that won't

Be caught in a commonplace way.

Do all that you know, and try all that you don't:

Not a chance must be wasted to-day!

"For England expects—I forbear to proceed:

'Tis a maxim tremendous, but trite:

And you'd best be unpacking the things that you need

To rig yourselves out for the fight."

Then the Banker endorsed a blank cheque (which he crossed),

And changed his loose silver for notes.

The Baker with care combed his whiskers and hair,

And shook the dust out of his coats.

The Boots and the Broker were sharpening a spade—

Each working the grindstone in turn:

But the Beaver went on making lace, and displayed

No interest in the concern:

Though the Barrister tried to appeal to its pride,

And vainly proceeded to cite

A number of cases, in which making laces

Had been proved an infringement of right.

The maker of Bonnets ferociously planned

A novel arrangement of bows:

While the Billiard-marker with quivering hand

Was chalking the tip of his nose.

But the Butcher turned nervous, and dressed himself fine,

With yellow kid gloves and a ruff—

Said he felt it exactly like going to dine,

Which the Bellman declared was all "stuff."

"Introduce me, now there's a good fellow," he said,

"If we happen to meet it together!"

And the Bellman, sagaciously nodding his head,

Said "That must depend on the weather."

The Beaver went simply galumphing about,

At seeing the Butcher so shy:

And even the Baker, though stupid and stout,

Made an effort to wink with one eye.

"Be a man!"
said the Bellman in wrath, as he heard

The Butcher beginning to sob.

"Should we meet with a Jubjub, that desperate bird,

We shall need all our strength for the job!"

Fit the Fifth

 THE BEAVER'S LESSON

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;

They pursued it with forks and hope;

They threatened its life with a railway-share;

They charmed it with smiles and soap.

Then the Butcher contrived an ingenious plan

For making a separate sally;

And had fixed on a spot unfrequented by man,

A dismal and desolate valley.

But the very same plan to the Beaver occurred:

It had chosen the very same place:

Yet neither betrayed, by a sign or a word,

The disgust that appeared in his face.

Each thought he was thinking of nothing but "Snark"

And the glorious work of the day;

And each tried to pretend that he did not remark

That the other was going that way.

But the valley grew narrow and narrower still,

And the evening got darker and colder,

Till (merely from nervousness, not from goodwill)

They marched along shoulder to shoulder.

Then a scream, shrill and high, rent the shuddering sky,

And they knew that some danger was near:

The Beaver turned pale to the tip of its tail,

And even the Butcher felt queer.

He thought of his childhood, left far far behind—

That blissful and innocent state—

The sound so exactly recalled to his mind

A pencil that squeaks on a slate!

"'Tis the voice of the Jubjub!"
he suddenly cried.

(This man, that they used to call "Dunce.")

"As the Bellman would tell you," he added with pride,

"I have uttered that sentiment once.

"'Tis the note of the Jubjub!
Keep count, I entreat;

You will find I have told it you twice.

'Tis the song of the Jubjub!
The proof is complete,

If only I've stated it thrice."

The Beaver had counted with scrupulous care,

Attending to every word:

But it fairly lost heart, and outgrabe in despair,

When the third repetition occurred.

It felt that, in spite of all possible pains,

It had somehow contrived to lose count,

And the only thing now was to rack its poor brains

By reckoning up the amount.

"Two added to one—if that could but be done,"

It said, "with one's fingers and thumbs!"

Recollecting with tears how, in earlier years,

It had taken no pains with its sums.

"The thing can be done," said the Butcher, "I think.

The thing must be done, I am sure.

The thing shall be done!  Bring me paper and ink,

The best there is time to procure."

The Beaver brought paper, portfolio, pens,

And ink in unfailing supplies:

While strange creepy creatures came out of their dens,

And watched them with wondering eyes.

So engrossed was the Butcher, he heeded them not,

As he wrote with a pen in each hand,

And explained all the while in a popular style

Which the Beaver could well understand.

"Taking Three as the subject to reason about—

A convenient number to state—

We add Seven, and Ten, and then multiply out

By One Thousand diminished by Eight.

"The result we proceed to divide, as you see,

By Nine Hundred and Ninety Two:

Then subtract Seventeen, and the answer must be

Exactly and perfectly true.

"The method employed I would gladly explain,

While I have it so clear in my head,

If I had but the time and you had but the brain—

But much yet remains to be said.

"In one moment I've seen what has hitherto been

Enveloped in absolute mystery,

And without extra charge I will give you at large

A Lesson in Natural History."

In his genial way he proceeded to say

(Forgetting all laws of propriety,

And that giving instruction, without introduction,

Would have caused quite a thrill in Society),

"As to temper the Jubjub's a desperate bird,

Since it lives in perpetual passion:

Its taste in costume is entirely absurd—

It is ages ahead of the fashion:

"But it knows any friend it has met once before:

It never will look at a bribe:

And in charity-meetings it stands at the door,

And collects—though it does not subscribe.

"Its' flavour when cooked is more exquisite far

Than mutton, or oysters, or eggs:

(Some think it keeps best in an ivory jar,

And some, in mahogany kegs:)

"You boil it in sawdust: you salt it in glue:

You condense it with locusts and tape:

Still keeping one principal object in view—

To preserve its symmetrical shape."

The Butcher would gladly have talked till next day,

But he felt that the lesson must end,

And he wept with delight in attempting to say

He considered the Beaver his friend.

While the Beaver confessed, with affectionate looks

More eloquent even than tears,

It had learned in ten minutes far more than all books

Would have taught it in seventy years.

They returned hand-in-hand, and the Bellman, unmanned

(For a moment) with noble emotion,

Said "This amply repays all the wearisome days

We have spent on the billowy ocean!"

Such friends, as the Beaver and Butcher became,

Have seldom if ever been known;

In winter or summer, 'twas always the same—

You could never meet either alone.

And when quarrels arose—as one frequently finds

Quarrels will, spite of every endeavour—

The song of the Jubjub recurred to their minds,

And cemented their friendship for ever!