Part 17 (1/2)

And she ”Yea so? Yet wherefore cease?

Let thy scant knowledge find increase.

Say 'Men are Men, and Geese are Geese.'”

The gentleman wanted to get away from this severe lady, but he could see no escape, for she was getting excited.

”To dine!” she shrieked, in dragon-wrath.

”To swallow wines all foam and froth!

To simper at a tablecloth!

”Canst thou desire or pie or puff?

Thy well-bred manners were enough, Without such gross material stuff.”

”Yet well-bred men,” he faintly said, ”Are not unwilling to be fed: Nor are they well without the bread.”

Her visage scorched him ere she spoke; ”There are,” she said, ”a kind of folk Who have no horror of a joke.

”Such wretches live: they take their share Of common earth and common air: We come across them here and there.”

”We grant them--there is no escape-- A sort of semihuman shape Suggestive of the manlike Ape.”

So the arguing went on--her Voice, his Voice, and the Voice of the Sea. He tried to joke away her solemn mood with a pun.

”The world is but a Thought,” said he: ”The vast, unfathomable sea Is but a Notion--unto me.”

And darkly fell her answer dread Upon his unresisting head, Like half a hundredweight of lead.

”The Good and Great must ever shun That reckless and abandoned one Who stoops to perpetrate a pun.

”The man that smokes--that reads the _Times_-- That goes to Christmas Pantomimes-- Is capable of _any_ crimes!”

Anyone can understand these verses, but it is very plain that the poem is a satire on the rise of the learned lady, who takes no interest in the lighter, pleasanter side of life; a being much detested by Lewis Carroll, who above all things loved a ”womanly woman.” As he grew older he became somewhat precise and old-fas.h.i.+oned in his opinions--that is perhaps the reason why he was so lovable. His ideals of womanhood and little girlhood were fixed and beautiful dreams, untouched by the rush of the times. The ”new woman” puzzled and pained him quite as much as the pert, precocious, up-to-date girl. Would there were more Lewis Carrolls in the world; quiet, simple, old-fas.h.i.+oned, courteous gentlemen with ideals!

Here is a clever little poem dedicated to girls, which he calls

A GAME OF FIVES.

Five little girls, of five, four, three, two, one: Rolling on the hearthrug, full of tricks and fun.

Five rosy girls, in years from ten to six: Sitting down to lessons--no more time for tricks.

Five growing girls, from fifteen to eleven: Music, drawing, languages, and food enough for seven!

Five winsome girls, from twenty to sixteen: Each young man that calls I say, ”Now tell me which you _mean_!”

Five das.h.i.+ng girls, the youngest twenty-one: But if n.o.body proposes, what is there to be done?

Five showy girls--but thirty is an age When girls may be _engaging_, but they somehow don't _engage_.