The Worlds Greatest Books - Arthur Mee, J. A. Hammerton, Eds.
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25
_IV.--Alice at the Mad Tea Party_
There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the
March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it; a Dormouse was sitting
between them fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion,
resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head.
The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at
one corner.
"No room! No room!" they cried out when they saw Alice coming.
"There's _plenty_ of room!" said Alice indignantly. And she sat down in
a large armchair at one end of the table.
"What day of the month is it?" asked the Hatter, turning to Alice.
He had taken his watch out of his pocket and was looking at it uneasily,
shaking it every now and then, and holding it to his ear.
Alice considered a little, and said, "The fourth."
"Two days wrong," sighed the Hatter. "I told you butter wouldn't suit
the works," he added, looking angrily at the March Hare.
"It was the _best_ butter," the March Hare meekly replied.
"But some crumbs must have got in as well," the Hatter grumbled. "You
shouldn't have put it in with the bread-knife."
The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily, then he dipped
it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again, but he could think of
nothing better to say than "It was the _best_ butter, you know."
"It's always tea-time with us here," explained the Hatter, "and we've no
time to wash the things between whiles."
"Then you keep moving round, I suppose?" said Alice.
"Exactly so," said the Hatter; "as the things get used up."
"But when you come to the beginning again?" Alice ventured to ask.
"Suppose we change the subject," the March Hare interrupted, yawning. "I
vote the young lady tells us a story."
"I'm afraid I don't know one," said Alice, rather alarmed at the
proposal.
"Then the Dormouse shall!" they both cried. "Wake up the Dormouse!" And
they pinched it on both sides at once.
The Dormouse slowly opened its eyes. "I wasn't asleep," it said, in a
hoarse, feeble voice. "I heard every word you fellows were saying."
"Tell us a story," said the March Hare.
"Yes, please do!" pleaded Alice.
"And be quick about it," added the Hatter, "or you'll be asleep again
before it's done."
"Once upon a time there were three little sisters," the Dormouse began
in a great hurry, "and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie and
they lived at the bottom of a well----"
"What did they live on?" said Alice, who always took a great interest in
questions of eating and drinking.
"They lived on treacle," said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or
two.
"They couldn't have done that, you know," Alice gently remarked, "they'd
have been ill."
"So they were _very_ ill."
Alice helped herself to some tea and bread and butter, and then turned
to the Dormouse and repeated her question, "Why did they live at the
bottom of the well?"
The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then
said, "It was a treacle-well."
"There's no such thing," Alice was beginning very angrily, but the
Hatter and the March Hare went "Sh! sh!"
"I want a clean cup," interrupted the Hatter. "Let's all move one place
on." He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him; the March
Hare moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice rather unwillingly took
the place of the March Hare.
"They were learning to draw," the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing
its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy, "and they drew all manner of
things--everything that begins with an M----"
"Why with an M?" said Alice.
"Why not?" said the March Hare.
The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a
doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a
little shriek, and went on, "----that begins with an M, such as
mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness--you know you say
things are 'much of a muchness'--did you ever see such a thing as a
drawing of a muchness?"
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, confused, "I don't think----"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.
This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear; she got up in
disgust, and walked off. The Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither
of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back
once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her.
The last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into
the teapot.
_V.--The Mock Turtle's Story and the Lobster Quadrille_
Alice got into the beautiful garden at last, but she had to nibble a bit
of the mushroom again to bring herself down to twelve inches after she
had got the golden key, so as to get through the little door. It was a
lovely garden, and in it was the Queen's croquet-ground. The Queen of
Hearts was very fond of ordering heads to be cut off. "Off with his
head!" was her favourite phrase whenever anybody displeased her. She
asked Alice to play croquet with her, but they had no rules; they had
live flamingoes for mallets, and the soldiers had to stand on their
hands and feet to form the hoops. It was extremely awkward, especially
as the balls were hedgehogs, who sometimes rolled away without being
hit. The Queen had a great quarrel with the Duchess, and wanted to have
her head off.
Alice found the state of affairs in the lovely garden not at all so
beautiful as she had expected. But after the game of croquet, the Queen
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."
"Come on, then," said the Queen, "and he shall tell you his history."
They very soon came upon a gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun.
"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 and the Gryphon 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.
So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes
full of tears.
"This here young lady," said the Gryphon, "she wants for to know your
history."
"Once," said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, "I was a real
turtle. When we were little, we went to school in the sea. The master
was an old turtle. We had the best of educations. Reeling and Writhing,
of course, to begin with, 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.
"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 out the
subjects on his flappers--"Mystery, ancient and modern, with Seaography;
then Drawling--the Drawing-master was an old conger-eel, that used to
come once a week; _he_ taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in
Coils. The Classical master taught Laughing and Grief, they used to
say."
"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."
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across
his eyes.
"Would you like to see a little of a Lobster Quadrille?" said he to
Alice.
"Very much indeed," said Alice.
"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
fore-paws 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?"
"Now, come, let's hear some of _your_ adventures," said the Gryphon to
Alice, after the dance.
"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 adventure first!" said the Gryphon impatiently.
"Explanations take such a dreadful time."
So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first
saw the White Rabbit. After a while 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.
"What trial is it?" Alice panted, as she ran, but the Gryphon only
answered, "Come on!" and ran the faster.
_VI.--The Trial of the Knave of Hearts_
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.
"Silence in the court!" cried the Rabbit.
"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's 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."
"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 hard 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'm a poor man, your Majesty," the Hatter began in a trembling voice,
"and I hadn't but just 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 _what_?" said the King.
"It _began_ with the tea," said the Hatter.
"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. And if that's all
you know about it, you may go," said the King; and the Hatter hurriedly
left the court, without even waiting to put on his shoes. "--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.
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!"
"Here!" cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how
large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a
hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt,
upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there
they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of
gold-fish she had accidentally upset the week before.
"Oh, I _beg_ your pardon!" she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and
began picking them up again as quickly as she could.
As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being
upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to
them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the
accident, all except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do
anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof.
"What do you know about this business?" the King said to Alice.
"Nothing," said Alice.
"Nothing _whatever_?" persisted the King.
"Nothing whatever," said Alice.
"That's very important," the King said, turning to the jury. They were
just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit
interrupted.
"_Un_important, your Majesty means, of course," he said, in a very
respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him.
"_Un_nimportant, of course, I meant," the King hastily said, and went on
to himself in an undertone, "important--unimportant--unimportant--
important----" as if he were trying which word sounded best.
Presently the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his
notebook, called out "Silence!" and he read out from his book, "Rule
Forty-two. _All persons more than a mile high to leave the court_."
Everybody looked at Alice.
"_I'm_ not a mile high," said Alice.
"You are," said the King.
"Nearly two miles high," added the Queen.
"Well, I shan't go, at any rate," said Alice. "Besides, that's not a
regular rule; you invented it just now."
"It's the oldest rule in the book," said the King.
"Then it ought to be Number One," said Alice.
The King turned pale, and shut his notebook hastily. "Consider your
verdict," he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice.
"No, no!" said the Queen. "Sentence first--verdict afterwards."
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Alice loudly. "The idea of having the
sentence first!"
"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen.
"I won't!" said Alice.
"Off with her head!" the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody
moved.
"Who cares for you?" said Alice (she had grown to her full size by this
time). "You're nothing but a pack of cards!"
At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon
her; she gave a little scream, and tried to beat them off, and found
herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who
was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from
the trees on her face.
"Wake up, Alice dear!" said her sister. "Why, what a long sleep you've
had!"
"Oh, I've had such a curious dream!" said Alice; and she told her
sister, as well as she could remember them, all her strange adventures;
and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, "It _was_ a
curious dream, dear, certainly. But now run in to your tea; it's getting
late."
So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might,
what a wonderful dream it had been.
* * * * *
MIGUEL CERVANTES
Life and Adventures of Don Quixote
Miguel Cervantes, the son of poor but gentle parents, was
born nobody quite knows where in Spain, in the year 1547. His
favourite amusement when a boy was the performance of
strolling players. He learned grammar and the humanities under
Lopez de Hoyos at Madrid, but did not, it seems, proceed to
the university. He was an early writer of sonnets, and tried
his hand on a pastoral poem before he had grown moustaches.
His first acquaintance with the world was acting as
chamberlain in the house of a cardinal, but this life he
presently abandoned for the more stirring career of a soldier.
After incredible sufferings and adventures, the poor private
soldier returned wounded to his family and began his career as
author. He soon established a reputation, and was able to
marry a quite adorable good lady with dowry sufficient for his
needs. However, it was not until late in life that he wrote
his immortal work "Don Quixote," which saw the light in 1604
or 1605. During the remainder of his life he was bitterly
assailed by the envious and malignant, was seldom out of
monetary difficulties, and very often in great pain from the
disease which finally ended his career at Madrid on April 23,
1616--the same day which saw the close of Shakespeare's.
_I.--The Knight-Errant of La Mancha_
In a certain village of La Mancha, there lived one of those
old-fashioned gentlemen who keep a lance in the rack, an ancient target,
a lean horse, and a greyhound for coursing. His family consisted of a
housekeeper turned forty, a niece not twenty, and a man who could saddle
a horse, handle the pruning-hook, and also serve in the house. The
master himself was nigh fifty years of age, lean-bodied and thin-faced,
an early riser, and a great lover of hunting. His surname was Quixada,
or Quesada.
You must know now that when our gentleman had nothing to do--which was
almost all the year round--he read books on knight-errantry, and with
such delight that he almost left off his sports, and even sold acres of
land to buy these books. He would dispute with the curate of the parish,
and with the barber, as to the best knight in the world. At nights he
read these romances until it was day; a-day he would read until it was
night. Thus, by reading much and sleeping little, he lost the use of his
reason. His brain was full of nothing but enchantments, quarrels,
battles, challenges, wounds, amorous plaints, torments, and abundance of
impossible follies.
Having lost his wits, he stumbled on the oddest fancy that ever entered
madman's brain--to turn knight-errant, mount his steed, and, armed
_cap-a-pie_, ride through the world, redressing all manner of
grievances, and exposing himself to every danger, that he might purchase
everlasting honour and renown.
The first thing he did was to secure a suit of armour that had belonged
to his great-grandfather. Then he made himself a helmet, which his sword
demolished at the first stroke. After repairing this mischief, he went
to visit his horse, whose bones stuck out, but who appeared to his
master a finer beast than Alexander's Bucephalus. After four days of
thought, he decided to call his horse Rozinante, and when the title was
decided upon, he spent eight days more before he arrived at Don Quixote
as a name for himself.
And now he perceived that nothing was wanting save only a lady, on whom
he might bestow the empire of his heart. There lived close at hand a
hard-working country lass, Aldonza Lorenzo, on whom sometimes he had
cast an eye, but who was quite unmindful of the gentleman. Her he
selected for his peerless lady, and dubbed her with the sweet-sounding
name of Dulcinea del Toboso.
_II.--An Adventure in a Courtyard_
One morning, in the hottest part of July, with great secrecy, he armed
himself, mounted Rozinante, and rode out of his backyard into the open
fields. He was disturbed to think that the honour of knighthood had not
yet been conferred upon him, but determined to rectify this matter at an
early opportunity, and rode on soliloquising, after the manner of
knight-errants, as happy as a man might be.
Towards evening he arrived at a common inn, before whose door sat two
wenches, the companions of some carriers bound for Seville. Don Quixote
instantly imagined the inn to be a castle, and the wenches to be fair
ladies taking the air; and as a swine-herd, getting his hogs together in
a stubble-field near at hand, chanced at that moment to wind his horn,
our gentleman imagined that this was a signal of his approach, and rode
forward in the highest spirits.
The extravagant language in which he addressed them astonished the
wenches as much as his amazing appearance, and they first would have run
from him, but finally stayed to laugh. Don Quixote rebuked them, whereat
they laughed the more, and only the innkeeper's appearance prevented the
knight's indignation from carrying him to extremities. This man was for
peace, and welcomed the strange apparition to his inn with all civility,
marvelling much to find himself addressed as Sir Castellan. So the
knight sat down to supper with strange company, and discoursed of
chivalry to the bewilderment of all present, treating the inn as a
castle, the host as a noble gentleman, and the wenches as great ladies.
He presently sought the innkeeper alone in the stable, and, kneeling,
requested to be dubbed a knight, vowing that he would not move from that
place till 'twas done. The host guessed the distraction of his visitor
and complied, counselling Don Quixote--who had never read of such things
in books of chivalry--to provide himself henceforth with money and clean
shirts, and no longer to ride penniless. That night Don Quixote watched
his arms by moonlight, laying them upon the horse-trough in the yard of
the inn, while from a distance the innkeeper and his guests watched the
gaunt man, now leaning on his lance, and now walking to and fro, with
his target on his arm.
It chanced that a carrier came to water his mules, and was about to
remove the armour, when Don Quixote in a loud voice called him to
desist. The man took no notice, and Don Quixote, calling upon his
Dulcinea to assist him, lifted his lance and brought it down on the
carrier's pate, laying him flat. A second carrier came, and was treated
in like manner; but now all the company of them came, and with showers
of stones made a terrible assault upon the knight. It was only the
interference of the innkeeper that put an end to this battle, and by
careful words he was able to appease Don Quixote's wrath and get him out
of the inn.
On his way the now happy knight found a farmer beating a boy, and
bidding him desist, inquired the reason of this chastisement. The man,
afraid of the strange armoured figure, told how this boy did his work
badly in the field, and deserved his flogging; but the boy declared that
the farmer owed him wages, and that whenever he asked for them his
master flogged him. Sternly did the Don command the man to pay the lad's
wages, and when the fellow promised to do so directly he got home, and
the boy protested that he would surely never keep that promise, Don
Quixote threatened the farmer, saying, "I am the valorous Don Quixote of
La Mancha, righter of wrongs, revenger and redresser of grievances;
remember what you have promised and sworn, as you will answer the
contrary at your peril." Convinced that the man dare not disobey, he
rode forward, and the farmer very soon continued his flogging of the
boy.