Part 6 (2/2)
Surely all must agree that the _Gryphon_ himself bears a strong resemblance to the Chinese dragons, and it _might_ be, such are the wonders of Wonderland, that the _Mock Turtle_ can be found in j.a.pan. Who knows! At any rate the little English Alice never thought of the consequences of that ”golden afternoon”; it was good to be in the boat, to pull through the rippling waters and stir a faint breeze as the oars
”with little skill-- By little arms are plied”;
then to gather under the friendly shade of the hayrick and listen to the wonder tale ”with lots of nonsense in it.”
Dear little Alice of Long Ago! To you we owe a debt of grat.i.tude. All the little Alices of the past and all the little Alices of the future will have their Wonderland because, while floating up and down the river with the real Alice, Lewis Carroll found the Golden Key.
CHAPTER VII.
ALICE IN WONDERLAND AND WHAT SHE DID THERE.
A certain little girl who had been poring over ”Through the Looking-Gla.s.s and What Alice Found There” with eager interest, when asked which of the ”Alices” she preferred, answered at once that she thought ”Through the Looking-Gla.s.s” was ”stupider” than ”Alice in Wonderland,” and when people laughed she was surprised, for she had enjoyed both books.
_Stupid_ was certainly not the word she meant to use, nor yet _silly_, which might have suggested itself if she had stopped to think. _Nonsense_ is really what she meant, and only very poor nonsense can be stupid or silly. Good nonsense is exceedingly clever; it takes clever people to write it and only clever people can understand and appreciate it, so when the real Alice hoped ”there would be nonsense in it” she was only looking for what she was sure to find: something odd, bright, and funny, with a laugh tucked away in unexpected places.
Nonsense is very ancient and respectable, tracing its origin back to the days of the Court Fool, whose office it was to make merry for the king and courtiers. An undersized man was usually selected, one with some deformity being preferred, whereat the courtiers might laugh; one with sharp tongue and ready wit, to make the time fly. He was clothed in ”motley”--that is, his dress, cut in the fas.h.i.+on of the times, was of many ill-a.s.sorted hues, while the fool's cap with its bells, and the bauble or rattle which he held in his hand, completed his grotesque appearance.
To the Fool was allowed the freedom of the court and a close intimacy with his royal master, to whom he could say what he pleased without fear of offense; his duty was to amuse, and the sharper his wit the better. It was called nonsense, though a sword could not thrust with keener malice, and historic moments have often hung upon a fool's jest. The history of the Court Fool is the history of medival England, France, Spain, and Italy, of a time when a quick figure of speech might turn the tide of war, and the Fool could reel off his ”nonsense” when others dared not speak. No one was spared; the king himself was often the victim of the fool's tongue, and under the guise of nonsense much wisdom lurked.
So it has been ever since; the Court Jester has pa.s.sed away with other old court customs, but the nonsense that was ”writ in books” lived after them, so good, so wholesome that we laugh at it with its old-time swing and sting.
The nonsense that we find in books to-day is of a higher order than that of the poor little Court Fool who, swaggering outwardly, trembled inwardly, as he sent his barbed shaft of wit against some lordly breast.
The wisdom hides in the simple fun of everyday that makes life a thing of suns.h.i.+ne and holds the shadows back.
Lewis Carroll had this gift of nonsense more than any other writer of his time. d.i.c.kens and Thackeray possessed wit and humor of a high quality, but they could not command so large an audience, for children turn to healthy nonsense as sunflowers to the sun, and Lewis Carroll gave them all they wanted. ”Grown-ups,” too, began to listen, detecting behind the fun much, perhaps, which had escaped even the author himself, until he put on his ”grown-up” gla.s.ses and began to ponder.
Where the real charm lies in ”Alice in Wonderland” would be very difficult to say. If a thousand children were asked to pick out their favorite parts, it is probable that not ten of them would think alike. A great many would say ”I like _any_ part,” and really with such a fascinating book how can one choose? The very opening is enough to cure any little girl of drowsiness on a summer day, and the picture of the pompous little _White Rabbit_ with his bulging waistcoat and his imposing watch chain, for all the world like an everyday Englishman, is a type no doubt that the lively little girls and the grave young ”don” knew pretty well.
Every page gives one something to think about. To begin with, the fact that _Alice_ is dreaming, is plain from the beginning, and that very odd sensation of falling through s.p.a.ce often comes during the first few moments of sleep. A busy dreamer can accomplish a great deal in a very short time, as we all know, and the most remarkable things happen in the simplest way. There is a story, for instance, of one little girl, who, after a nice warm bath, was carried to bed and tucked in up to her rosy chin. Her heavy eyes shut immediately and lo! in half a minute she was back in the big porcelain tub, splas.h.i.+ng about like a little mermaid; then nurse pulled the stopper out, and through the waste-pipe went water, small girl, and all. When she opened her eyes with a start, she found she had been dreaming _not quite two minutes_. So suppose the real Alice had been dreaming a half an hour; it was quite long enough to skip through ”Wonderland,” and to have delightful and curious things constantly happening.
It was the _White Rabbit_ talking to himself that first attracted her, but a short stay in ”Wonderland” got her quite used to all sorts of animals and their funny talk, and the way _she_ had of growing larger or smaller on the shortest notice was very puzzling and amusing. How like real people was this dream-child; how many everyday folks find themselves too small for great places, and too great for the small ones, and how many experiments they try to make themselves larger or smaller! You see Lewis Carroll thought of all this, though he did not spoil his story by stopping to explain. It is, indeed, poor nonsense that has to be explained every step of the way.
The dream ”Alice” just at first was apt to cry if anything unusual or unpleasant happened; a bad habit with some children, the _real_ Alice was given to understand. At any rate, when she drank out of the bottle that tasted of ”cherry tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffy, and hot b.u.t.tered toast,” and found herself growing smaller and smaller, she cried, because she was only ten inches high and could not possibly reach the Golden Key on the gla.s.s table. Then she took herself to task very sharply, saying: ”Come, there's no use in crying like that! I advise you to leave off this minute!”
”She generally gave herself very good advice (though she seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes, and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. 'But it's no use now,' thought poor Alice, 'to pretend to be two people, when there's hardly enough left of me to make _one_ respectable person.'”
Then when she found the little gla.s.s box with a cake in it marked ”_Eat Me_” in currants, she decided that if she ate it something different might happen, for otherwise she would go out like a candle if she grew any smaller. Of course, as soon as she swallowed the whole cake, she took a start and soon stood nine feet high in her slippers.
”'Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice (she was so surprised that for the moment she quite forgot to speak good English), 'now I'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was. Good-bye, feet!' (for when she looked down at her feet they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off.) 'Oh, my poor little feet! I wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I'm sure _I_ shan't be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you; you must manage the best way you can; but I must be kind to them,' thought Alice, 'or perhaps they won't walk the way I want to go! Let me see: I'll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.'”
”And she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. 'They must go by the carrier,' she thought; 'and how funny it'll seem, sending presents to one's own feet, and how odd the directions will look!
_Alice's Right Foot, Esq., Hearthrug, near the Fender, (with Alice's love)._
Oh, dear, what nonsense I'm talking.'”
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