Up the airy mountain ---Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting, ---For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, ---Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, ---And white owl's feather. Down along the rocky shore ---Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes ---Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds ---Of the black mountain-lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, ---All night awake.
"He's nigh lost his wits." ___________________________________________________________
High on the hill-top ---The old King sits; He is now so old and gray ---He's nigh lost his wits. With a bridge of white mist ---Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys ---From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music, ---On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen, ---Of the gay Northern Lights.
"Her friends were all gone./They took her lightly back." ________________________________________________________________
They stole little Bridget ---For seven years long; When she came down again ---Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back ---Between the night and morrow; They thought she was fast asleep, ---But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since ---Deep within the lake, On a bed of flag leaves, ---Watching till she wake.
"He shall find the thornies set/In his bed at night." ___________________________________________________________
By the craggy hill-side, ---Through the mosses bare, They have planted thorn trees ---For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring ---As dig them up in spite? He shall find the thornies set ---In his bed at night.
"We daren't go a-hunting." _____________________________________________________________
Up the airy mountain ---Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting, ---For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, ---Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, ---And white owl's feather. ________________________________________________________________
The trial scene the 1983 Great Performances version of "Alice In Wonderland," directed by Kirk Browning and starring Kate Burton as Alice. It's remarkably faithful to the book. My all-time favorite line is Austin Pendleton screaming "HE STOLE THOSE TARTS!"
The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them--all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them--'I wish they'd get the trial done,' she thought, 'and hand round the refreshments!' But there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about her, to pass away the time.
Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of nearly everything there. 'That's the judge,' she said to herself, 'because of his great wig.'
The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it,) he did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming.
'And that's the jury-box,' thought Alice, 'and those twelve creatures,' (she was obliged to say 'creatures,' you see, because some of them were animals, and some were birds,) 'I suppose they are the jurors.' She said this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her age knew the meaning of it at all. However, 'jury-men' would have done just as well.
The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. 'What are they doing?' Alice whispered to the Gryphon. 'They can't have anything to put down yet, before the trial's begun.'
'They're putting down their names,' the Gryphon whispered in reply, 'for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.'
'Stupid things!' Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, 'Silence in the court!' and the King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make out who was talking.
Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, that all the jurors were writing down 'stupid things!' on their slates, and she could even make out that one of them didn't know how to spell 'stupid,' and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. 'A nice muddle their slates'll be in before the trial's over!' thought Alice.
One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice could not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly that the poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not make out at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was obliged to write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this was of very little use, as it left no mark on the slate.
'Herald, read the accusation!' said the King.
On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:--
'The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, All on a summer day: The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, And took them quite away!'
'Consider your verdict,' the King said to the jury.
'Not yet, not yet!' the Rabbit hastily interrupted. 'There's a great deal to come before that!'
'Call the first witness,' said the King; and the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and called out, 'First witness!'
The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. 'I beg pardon, your Majesty,' he began, 'for bringing these in: but I hadn't quite finished my tea when I was sent for.'
'You ought to have finished,' said the King. 'When did you begin?'
The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. 'Fourteenth of March, I think it was,' he said.
'Fifteenth,' said the March Hare.
'Sixteenth,' added the Dormouse.
'Write that down,' the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and reduced the answer to shillings and pence.
'Take off your hat,' the King said to the Hatter.
'It isn't mine,' said the Hatter.
'Stolen!' the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a memorandum of the fact.
'I keep them to sell,' the Hatter added as an explanation; 'I've none of my own. I'm a hatter.'
Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter, who turned pale and fidgeted.
'Give your evidence,' said the King; 'and don't be nervous, or I'll have you executed on the spot.'
This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter.
Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to grow larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave the court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as long as there was room for her.
'I wish you wouldn't squeeze so.' said the Dormouse, who was sitting next to her. 'I can hardly breathe.'
'I can't help it,' said Alice very meekly: 'I'm growing.'
'You've no right to grow here,' said the Dormouse.
'Don't talk nonsense,' said Alice more boldly: 'you know you're growing too.'
'Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace,' said the Dormouse: 'not in that ridiculous fashion.' And he got up very sulkily and crossed over to the other side of the court.
All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers of the court, 'Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!' on which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off.
'Give your evidence,' the King repeated angrily, 'or I'll have you executed, whether you're nervous or not.'
'I'm a poor man, your Majesty,' the Hatter began, in a trembling voice, '--and I hadn't begun my tea--not above a week or so--and what with the bread-and-butter getting so thin--and the twinkling of the tea--'
'The twinkling of the what?' said the King.
'It began with the tea,' the Hatter replied.
'Of course twinkling begins with a T!' said the King sharply. 'Do you take me for a dunce? Go on!'
'I'm a poor man,' the Hatter went on, 'and most things twinkled after that--only the March Hare said--'
'I didn't!' the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry.
'You did!' said the Hatter.
'I deny it!' said the March Hare.
'He denies it,' said the King: 'leave out that part.'
'Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said--' the Hatter went on, looking anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied nothing, being fast asleep.
'After that,' continued the Hatter, 'I cut some more bread- and-butter--'
'But what did the Dormouse say?' one of the jury asked.
'That I can't remember,' said the Hatter.
'You must remember,' remarked the King, 'or I'll have you executed.'
The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went down on one knee. 'I'm a poor man, your Majesty,' he began.
'You're a very poor speaker,' said the King.
Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just explain to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, head first, and then sat upon it.)
'I'm glad I've seen that done,' thought Alice. 'I've so often read in the newspapers, at the end of trials, "There was some attempts at applause, which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court," and I never understood what it meant till now.'
'If that's all you know about it, you may stand down,' continued the King.
'I can't go no lower,' said the Hatter: 'I'm on the floor, as it is.'
'Then you may sit down,' the King replied.
Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed.
'Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!' thought Alice. 'Now we shall get on better.'
'I'd rather finish my tea,' said the Hatter, with an anxious look at the Queen, who was reading the list of singers.
'You may go,' said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court, without even waiting to put his shoes on.
'--and just take his head off outside,' the Queen added to one of the officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get to the door.
'Call the next witness!' said the King.
The next witness was the Duchess's cook. She carried the pepper-box in her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once.
'Give your evidence,' said the King.
'Shan't,' said the cook.
The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice, 'Your Majesty must cross-examine this witness.'
'Well, if I must, I must,' the King said, with a melancholy air, and, after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, 'What are tarts made of?'
'Pepper, mostly,' said the cook.
'Treacle,' said a sleepy voice behind her.
'Collar that Dormouse,' the Queen shrieked out. 'Behead that Dormouse! Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his whiskers!'
For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had disappeared.
'Never mind!' said the King, with an air of great relief. 'Call the next witness.' And he added in an undertone to the Queen, 'Really, my dear, you must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!'
Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very curious to see what the next witness would be like, '--for they haven't got much evidence yet,' she said to herself. Imagine her surprise, when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the name 'Alice!'
"Meryl Streep meets the Mock Turtle and dances the Lobster Quadrille in the New York Shakespeare Festival production of Elizabeth Swados' 'Alice At The Palace' (1981)." ____________________________________________________________
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or two sobs choked his voice. 'Same as if he had a bone in his throat,' said the Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears running down his cheeks, he went on again:--
'You may not have lived much under the sea--' ('I haven't,' said Alice)-- 'and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster--' (Alice began to say 'I once tasted--' but checked herself hastily, and said 'No, never') '--so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a Lobster Quadrille is!'
'No, indeed,' said Alice. 'What sort of a dance is it?'
'Why,' said the Gryphon, 'you first form into a line along the sea-shore--'
'Two lines!' cried the Mock Turtle. 'Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; then, when you've cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way--'
'That generally takes some time,' interrupted the Gryphon.
'--you advance twice--'
'Each with a lobster as a partner!' cried the Gryphon.
'Of course,' the Mock Turtle said: 'advance twice, set to partners--'
'--change lobsters, and retire in same order,' continued the Gryphon.
'Then, you know,' the Mock Turtle went on, 'you throw the--'
'The lobsters!' shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air.
'--as far out to sea as you can--'
'Swim after them!' screamed the Gryphon.
'Turn a somersault in the sea!' cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly about.
'Change lobster's again!' yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice.
'Back to land again, and that's all the first figure,' said the Mock Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and quietly, and looked at Alice.
'It must be a very pretty dance,' said Alice timidly.
'Would you like to see a little of it?' said the Mock Turtle.
'Very much indeed,' said Alice.
'Come, let's try the first figure!' said the Mock Turtle to the Gryphon. 'We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?'
'Oh, you sing,' said the Gryphon. 'I've forgotten the words.'
So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:--
'"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail. "There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?
"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!" But the snail replied "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance-- Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
'"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied. "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. The further off from England the nearer is to France-- Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?"'
'Thank you, it's a very interesting dance to watch,' said Alice, feeling very glad that it was over at last: 'and I do so like that curious song about the whiting!'
'Oh, as to the whiting,' said the Mock Turtle, 'they--you've seen them, of course?'
'Yes,' said Alice, 'I've often seen them at dinn--' she checked herself hastily.
'I don't know where Dinn may be,' said the Mock Turtle, 'but if you've seen them so often, of course you know what they're like.'
'I believe so,' Alice replied thoughtfully. 'They have their tails in their mouths--and they're all over crumbs.'
'You're wrong about the crumbs,' said the Mock Turtle: 'crumbs would all wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their mouths; and the reason is--' here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes.--'Tell her about the reason and all that,' he said to the Gryphon.
'The reason is,' said the Gryphon, 'that they would go with the lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn't get them out again. That's all.'
'Thank you,' said Alice, 'it's very interesting. I never knew so much about a whiting before.'
'I can tell you more than that, if you like,' said the Gryphon. 'Do you know why it's called a whiting?'
'I never thought about it,' said Alice. 'Why?'
'It does the boots and shoes.' the Gryphon replied very solemnly.
Alice was thoroughly puzzled. 'Does the boots and shoes!' she repeated in a wondering tone.
'Why, what are your shoes done with?' said the Gryphon. 'I mean, what makes them so shiny?'
Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her answer. 'They're done with blacking, I believe.'
'Boots and shoes under the sea,' the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, 'are done with a whiting. Now you know.'
'And what are they made of?' Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.
'Soles and eels, of course,' the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: 'any shrimp could have told you that.'
'If I'd been the whiting,' said Alice, whose thoughts were still running on the song, 'I'd have said to the porpoise, "Keep back, please: we don't want you with us!"'
'They were obliged to have him with them,' the Mock Turtle said: 'no wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.'
'Wouldn't it really?' said Alice in a tone of great surprise.
'Of course not,' said the Mock Turtle: 'why, if a fish came to me, and told me he was going a journey, I should say "With what porpoise?"'
'Don't you mean "purpose"?' said Alice.
'I mean what I say,' the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And the Gryphon added 'Come, let's hear some of your adventures.'
'I could tell you my adventures--beginning from this morning,' said Alice a little timidly: 'but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.'
'Explain all that,' said the Mock Turtle.
'No, no! The adventures first,' said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: 'explanations take such a dreadful time.'
So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and mouths so very wide, but she gained courage as she went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her repeating 'You are old, Father William,' to the Caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and said 'That's very curious.'
'It's all about as curious as it can be,' said the Gryphon.
'It all came different!' the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. 'I should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to begin.' He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over Alice.
'Stand up and repeat "'Tis the voice of the sluggard,"' said the Gryphon.
'How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!' thought Alice; 'I might as well be at school at once.' However, she got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer indeed:--
''Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare, "You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair." As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.'
[later editions continued as follows "When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark, But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, His voice has a timid and tremulous sound."]
'That's different from what I used to say when I was a child,' said the Gryphon.
'Well, I never heard it before,' said the Mock Turtle; 'but it sounds uncommon nonsense.'
Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again.
'I should like to have it explained,' said the Mock Turtle.
'She can't explain it,' said the Gryphon hastily. 'Go on with the next verse.'
'But about his toes?' the Mock Turtle persisted. 'How could he turn them out with his nose, you know?'
'It's the first position in dancing.' Alice said; but was dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject.
'Go on with the next verse,' the Gryphon repeated impatiently: 'it begins "I passed by his garden."'
Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:--
'I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie--'
[later editions continued as follows: "The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, And concluded the banquet--"]
'What is the use of repeating all that stuff,' the Mock Turtle interrupted, 'if you don't explain it as you go on? It's by far the most confusing thing I ever heard!'
'Yes, I think you'd better leave off,' said the Gryphon: and Alice was only too glad to do so.
'Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?' the Gryphon went on. 'Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?'
'Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,' Alice replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, 'Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her "Turtle Soup," will you, old fellow?'
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with sobs, to sing this:--
'Beautiful Soup, so rich and green, Waiting in a hot tureen! Who for such dainties would not stoop? Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, Beautiful, beautiful Soup!
'Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, Game, or any other dish? Who would not give all else for two pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, Beautiful, beauti--FUL SOUP!'
'Chorus again!' cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun to repeat it, when a cry of 'The trial's beginning!' was heard in the distance.
'Come on!' cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song.
'What trial is it?' Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only answered 'Come on!' and ran the faster, while more and more faintly came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:--
'Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, Beautiful, beautiful Soup!'
TRUE! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why WILL you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How then am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily, how calmly, I can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture -- a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold, and so by degrees, very gradually, I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever.
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution -- with what foresight, with what dissimulation, I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night about midnight I turned the latch of his door and opened it oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern all closed, closed so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly, very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this? And then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously -- oh, so cautiously -- cautiously (for the hinges creaked), I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights, every night just at midnight, but I found the eye always closed, and so it was impossible to do the work, for it was not the old man who vexed me but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed , to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers, of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was opening the door little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me, for he moved on the bed suddenly as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back -- but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened through fear of robbers), and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.
I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening , and the old man sprang up in the bed, crying out, "Who's there?"
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed, listening; just as I have done night after night hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
Presently, I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh, no! It was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself, "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney, it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or, "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions ; but he had found all in vain. ALL IN VAIN, because Death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor heard, to feel the presence of my head within the room.
When I had waited a long time very patiently without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little -- a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it -- you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily -- until at length a single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.
It was open, wide, wide open, and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness -- all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones, but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person, for I had directed the ray as if by instinct precisely upon the damned spot.
And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses? now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder, every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! -- do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me -- the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once -- once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence.
I took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even his -- could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out -- no stain of any kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that.
When I had made an end of these labours, it was four o'clock -- still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, -- for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.
I smiled, -- for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search -- search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My MANNER had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears; but still they sat, and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct : I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness -- until, at length, I found that the noise was NOT within my ears.
No doubt I now grew VERY pale; but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was A LOW, DULL, QUICK SOUND -- MUCH SUCH A SOUND AS A WATCH MAKES WHEN ENVELOPED IN COTTON. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly, more vehemently but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why WOULD they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men, but the noise steadily increased. O God! what COULD I do? I foamed -- I raved -- I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder -- louder -- louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly , and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! -- no, no? They heard! -- they suspected! -- they KNEW! -- they were making a mockery of my horror! -- this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! -- and now -- again -- hark! louder! louder! louder! LOUDER! --
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! -- here, here! -- it is the beating of his hideous heart!"
* 'You can't think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!' said the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice's, and they walked off together.
Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so savage when they met in the kitchen.
'When I'm a Duchess,' she said to herself, (not in a very hopeful tone though), 'I won't have any pepper in my kitchen at all. Soup does very well without--Maybe it's always pepper that makes people hot-tempered,' she went on, very much pleased at having found out a new kind of rule, 'and vinegar that makes them sour--and camomile that makes them bitter--and--and barley-sugar and such things that make children sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew that: then they wouldn't be so stingy about it, you know--'
She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. 'You're thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can't tell you just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in a bit.'
'Perhaps it hasn't one,' Alice ventured to remark.
'Tut, tut, child!' said the Duchess. 'Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.' And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice's side as she spoke.
Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the Duchess was very ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right height to rest her chin upon Alice's shoulder, and it was an uncomfortably sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she bore it as well as she could.
'The game's going on rather better now,' she said, by way of keeping up the conversation a little.
''Tis so,' said the Duchess: 'and the moral of that is--"Oh, 'tis love, 'tis love, that makes the world go round!"'
'Somebody said,' Alice whispered, 'that it's done by everybody minding their own business!'
'Ah, well! It means much the same thing,' said the Duchess, digging her sharp little chin into Alice's shoulder as she added, 'and the moral of that is--"Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves."'
'How fond she is of finding morals in things!' Alice thought to herself.
'I dare say you're wondering why I don't put my arm round your waist,' the Duchess said after a pause: 'the reason is, that I'm doubtful about the temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?'
'He might bite,' Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious to have the experiment tried.
'Very true,' said the Duchess: 'flamingoes and mustard both bite. And the moral of that is--"Birds of a feather flock together."'
'Only mustard isn't a bird,' Alice remarked.
'Right, as usual,' said the Duchess: 'what a clear way you have of putting things!'
'It's a mineral, I think,' said Alice.
'Of course it is,' said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to everything that Alice said; 'there's a large mustard-mine near here. And the moral of that is--"The more there is of mine, the less there is of yours."'
'Oh, I know!' exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last remark, 'it's a vegetable. It doesn't look like one, but it is.'
'I quite agree with you,' said the Duchess; 'and the moral of that is--"Be what you would seem to be"--or if you'd like it put more simply--"Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise."'
'I think I should understand that better,' Alice said very politely, 'if I had it written down: but I can't quite follow it as you say it.'
'That's nothing to what I could say if I chose,' the Duchess replied, in a pleased tone.
'Pray don't trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,' said Alice.
'Oh, don't talk about trouble!' said the Duchess. 'I make you a present of everything I've said as yet.'
'A cheap sort of present!' thought Alice. 'I'm glad they don't give birthday presents like that!' But she did not venture to say it out loud.
'Thinking again?' the Duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp little chin.
'I've a right to think,' said Alice sharply, for she was beginning to feel a little worried.
'Just about as much right,' said the Duchess, 'as pigs have to fly; and the m--'
But here, to Alice's great surprise, the Duchess's voice died away, even in the middle of her favourite word 'moral,' and the arm that was linked into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and there stood the Queen in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm.
'A fine day, your Majesty!' the Duchess began in a low, weak voice.
'Now, I give you fair warning,' shouted the Queen, stamping on the ground as she spoke; 'either you or your head must be off, and that in about half no time! Take your choice!'
The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment.
'Let's go on with the game,' the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the croquet-ground.
The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen's absence, and were resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried back to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment's delay would cost them their lives.
All the time they were playing the Queen never left off quarrelling with the other players, and shouting 'Off with his head!' or 'Off with her head!' Those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that by the end of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and all the players, except the King, the Queen, and Alice, were in custody and under sentence of execution.
Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, 'Have you seen the Mock Turtle yet?'
'No,' said Alice. 'I don't even know what a Mock Turtle is.'
'It's the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,' said the Queen.
'I never saw one, or heard of one,' said Alice.
'Come on, then,' said the Queen, 'and he shall tell you his history,'
As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, to the company generally, 'You are all pardoned.' 'Come, that's a good thing!' she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the number of executions the Queen had ordered.
They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. (If you don't know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.) 'Up, lazy thing!' said the Queen, 'and take this young lady to see the Mock Turtle, and to hear his history. I must go back and see after some executions I have ordered'; and she walked off, leaving Alice alone with the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the look of the creature, but on the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with it as to go after that savage Queen: so she waited.
The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen till she was out of sight: then it chuckled. 'What fun!' said the Gryphon, half to itself, half to Alice.
'What is the fun?' said Alice.
'Why, she,' said the Gryphon. 'It's all her fancy, that: they never executes nobody, you know. Come on!'
'Everybody says "come on!" here,' thought Alice, as she went slowly after it: 'I never was so ordered about in all my life, never!'
They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She pitied him deeply. 'What is his sorrow?' she asked the Gryphon, and the Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, 'It's all his fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, you know. Come on!'
So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but said nothing.
'This here young lady,' said the Gryphon, 'she wants for to know your history, she do.'
'I'll tell it her,' said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone: 'sit down, both of you, and don't speak a word till I've finished.'
So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to herself, 'I don't see how he can even finish, if he doesn't begin.' But she waited patiently.
'Once,' said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, 'I was a real Turtle.'
These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an occasional exclamation of 'Hjckrrh!' from the Gryphon, and the constant heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up and saying, 'Thank you, sir, for your interesting story,' but she could not help thinking there must be more to come, so she sat still and said nothing.
'When we were little,' the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, 'we went to school in the sea. The master was an old Turtle--we used to call him Tortoise--'
'Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn't one?' Alice asked.
'We called him Tortoise because he taught us,' said the Mock Turtle angrily: 'really you are very dull!'
'You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question,' added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at poor Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle, 'Drive on, old fellow! Don't be all day about it!' and he went on in these words:
'Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn't believe it--'
'I never said I didn't!' interrupted Alice.
'You did,' said the Mock Turtle.
'Hold your tongue!' added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again. The Mock Turtle went on.
'We had the best of educations--in fact, we went to school every day--'
'I've been to a day-school, too,' said Alice; 'you needn't be so proud as all that.'
'With extras?' asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously.
'Yes,' said Alice, 'we learned French and music.'
'And washing?' said the Mock Turtle.
'Certainly not!' said Alice indignantly.
'Ah! then yours wasn't a really good school,' said the Mock Turtle in a tone of great relief. 'Now at ours they had at the end of the bill, "French, music, and washing--extra."'
'You couldn't have wanted it much,' said Alice; 'living at the bottom of the sea.'
'I couldn't afford to learn it.' said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. 'I only took the regular course.'
'What was that?' inquired Alice.
'Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,' the Mock Turtle replied; 'and then the different branches of Arithmetic-- Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.'
'I never heard of "Uglification,"' Alice ventured to say. 'What is it?'
The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. 'What! Never heard of uglifying!' it exclaimed. 'You know what to beautify is, I suppose?'
'Yes,' said Alice doubtfully: 'it means--to--make--anything--prettier.'
'Well, then,' the Gryphon went on, 'if you don't know what to uglify is, you are a simpleton.'
Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she turned to the Mock Turtle, and said 'What else had you to learn?'
'Well, there was Mystery,' the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the subjects on his flappers, '--Mystery, ancient and modern, with Seaography: then Drawling--the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, that used to come once a week: He taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in Coils.'
'What was that like?' said Alice.
'Well, I can't show it you myself,' the Mock Turtle said: 'I'm too stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.'
'Hadn't time,' said the Gryphon: 'I went to the Classics master, though. He was an old crab, he was.'
'I never went to him,' the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: 'he taught Laughing and Grief, they used to say.'
'So he did, so he did,' said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both creatures hid their faces in their paws.
'And how many hours a day did you do lessons?' said Alice, in a hurry to change the subject.
'Ten hours the first day,' said the Mock Turtle: 'nine the next, and so on.'
'What a curious plan!' exclaimed Alice.
'That's the reason they're called lessons,' the Gryphon remarked: 'because they lessen from day to day.'
This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little before she made her next remark. 'Then the eleventh day must have been a holiday?'
'Of course it was,' said the Mock Turtle.
'And how did you manage on the twelfth?' Alice went on eagerly.
'That's enough about lessons,' the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided tone: 'tell her something about the games now.'
Come take up your Hats, and away let us haste To the Butterfly's Ball, and the Grasshopper's Feast. The Trumpeter, Gadfly, has summon'd the Crew, And the Revels are now only waiting for you.
So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions came forth in a Throng. And on the smooth Grass, by the side of a Wood, Beneath a broad Oak that for Ages had stood,
Saw the Children of Earth, and the Tenants of Air, For an Evening's Amusement together repair. And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black, Who carried the Emmet, his Friend, on his Back.
And there was the Gnat and the Dragon-fly too, With all their Relations, Green, Orange, and Blue. And there came the Moth, with his Plumage of Down, And the Hornet in Jacket of Yellow and Brown;
Who with him the Wasp, his Companion, did bring, But they promis'd, that Evening, to lay by their Sting. And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his Hole, And brought to the Feast his blind Brother, the Mole.
And the Snail, with his Horns peeping out of his Shell, Came from a great Distance, the Length of an Ell. A Mushroom their Table, and on it was laid A Water-dock Leaf, which a Table-cloth made.
The Viands were various, to each of their Taste, And the Bee brought her Honey to crown the Repast. Then close on his Haunches, so solemn and wise, The Frog from a Corner, look'd up to the Skies.
And the Squirrel well pleas'd such Diversions to see, Mounted high over Head, and look'd down from a Tree. Then out came the Spider, with Finger so fine, To shew his Dexterity on the tight Line.
From one Branch to another, his Cobwebs he slung, Then quick as an Arrow he darted along, But just in the Middle,--Oh! shocking to tell, From his Rope, in an Instant, poor Harlequin fell.
Yet he touch'd not the Ground, but with Talons outspread, Hung suspended in Air, at the End of a Thread. Then the Grasshopper came with a Jerk and a Spring, Very long was his Leg, though but short was his Wing;
He took but three Leaps, and was soon out of Sight, Then chirp'd his own Praises the rest of the Night. With Step so majestic the Snail did advance, And promis'd the Gazers a Minuet to dance.
But they all laugh'd so loud that he pull'd in his Head, And went in his own little Chamber to Bed. Then, as Evening gave Way to the Shadows of Night, Their Watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with a Light.
Then Home let us hasten, while yet we can see, For no Watchman is waiting for you and for me, So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions returned in a throng.
Frontispiece of the 1808, London, publication of The Butterfly's Ball, and the Grasshopper's Feast by William Roscoe, "PRINTED FOR J. HARRIS, SUCCESSOR TO E. NEWBERY, AT THE ORIGINAL JUVENILE LIBRARY, CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD." _________________________________________________________
