The Sighted and the Eyeless: Lorina’s thoughts of Wonderland, and her assurance that it would all fade away when she opened her eyes, is one of the key perceptive moments in Carroll’s “Alice” stories. Alice is the dream-child, fully capable of running away with her imagination and falling into the worlds of make believe. Lorina, on the other hand, is far more pragmatic. She is able to appreciate the nature of Wonderland’s whimsy, but she can only envision it when she closes her eyes. An interesting parallel can be drawn to an 1856 painting created by Carroll’s acquaintance, Sir John Everett Millais, entitled “The Blind Girl.” Millais’s painting portrays two sisters sitting beneath a double rainbow. The younger girl, with the gift of sight, is describing the beauty of the rainbows to her sister, who is blind.
Speculative Chronology of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
By Kent David Kelly
THROUGH GATHERING and considering all of the references to time in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, it is possible to create a rough timeline of Alice’s adventures. The following is of course hypothetical, but it is interesting!
1859: This may possibly be the year of Alice’s exploration of Wonderland, since (in the story) she is exactly seven years old.
March 1, 1859: The March Hare goes mad. Right on schedule!
March 13, 1859: The Hatter sings (poorly!) at the Queen’s royal concert. Father Time is insulted, and the Queen threatens the Hatter with death. The Hatter and March Hare (and possibly the Dormouse) flee to March Hare’s house.
March 14, 1859 (6:00 PM): The Mad Tea-Party begins, as the Hatter, March Hare and Dormouse are caught in the “time trap” of Father Time.
April, 1859: The Pigeon, avoiding the serpents of Wonderland once again, lays her new clutch of eggs in the highest tree of the forest.
May 2, 1859: The March Hare, using bread-and-butter, tries to fix Hatter’s watch and accidentally breaks it instead.
May 3, 1859: The Seven of Spades accidentally brings tulip-roots to the Duchess’s Cook instead of onions. The Queen of Hearts threatens to have him beheaded.
May 4, 1859 (Morning): Alice celebrates her seventh birthday by going to a picnic with her sister Lorina on the bank of the River Isis. (Quite possibly, they boat there with Lewis Carroll.) Alice sees the White Rabbit and chases it down the rabbit-hole into Wonderland.
May 4, 1859 (Mid- to Late Morning): Alice falls down the well, explores the Hall of Doors, falls into the Pool of Tears, and runs in the caucus-race.
May 4, 1859 (Late Morning to Noon): Alice explores White Rabbit’s house and escapes, evades the enormous puppy, talks to the Caterpillar, explains herself to the Pigeon, and comes to the house of the Duchess.
May 4, 1859 (Noon): The Queen of Hearts sends out invitations for the day’s game of croquet.
May 4, 1859 (Early Afternoon): Alice meets the Duchess, the Cook, the Pig-Baby and the Cheshire-Cat.
May 4, 1859 (Mid-Afternoon): Alice meets the March Hare, Dormouse and Hatter at the Mad Tea-Party. (Technically, there was a “time warp” holding this repeating event eternally at 6:00 PM, as the tea-party had been going on since March. But from Alice’s perspective, the party took place in the afternoon.)
May 4, 1859 (Late Afternoon): Alice enters the royal gardens and plays croquet. She then goes to the seashore, and meets the Gryphon and the Mock Turtle.
May 4, 1859 (Early Evening): Alice attends the trial in the royal court.
May 4, 1859 (6:00 PM): Alice wakes, leaving Wonderland and returning to the shores of the River Isis, just in time for tea. (In regards to Victorian convention, this may have been 5:00 or 6:00 PM. 6:00 PM is more likely, considering the Hatter’s comments during the Mad Tea-Party. The intervention of a mischievous Father Time, restarting time at 6:00 PM just where he last froze it, is likely!)
October?, 1859: The Hatter and the March Hare flee into Looking-Glass Land, and become Anglo-Saxon Messengers for the White King. (The month is guessed at, based on allusions in Through the Looking-Glass, where we are about to continue our journey.)
PART III
THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS, AND WHAT ALICE FOUND THERE
Introduction
CONSIDERING the wild success enjoyed by the release of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland beginning in 1865, it may (to the outside observer) be something of a wonder in itself that the sequel did not appear until 1871. The practical reason for the delay, of course, was that Carroll maintained his position at Oxford, and this (compounded by several other hobbies, such as photography, invention and logical theory) gave him precious little “free” time in which to write the sequel. Making matters even more difficult, there were problems with his illustrator Tenniel’s schedule, printing mishaps, and various other considerations as well.
The true heart of the matter, however, is deeper still. Carroll had a falling out with the Liddell family (the reasons for which are still unclear, but seem to center on his relationship with the maturing Alice and Lorina), and it must have pained him to know that the world was pining for an “Alice” whose company he himself was no longer able to enjoy. Fate has a way of arranging the inevitable, however, and events were conspiring to bring Alice’s adventures to the fore once again.
In 1867, Carroll had an intriguing meeting with an entirely different Alice, a young girl named Alice Raikes. The themes of this conversation certainly informed the writing of Through the Looking-Glass. Ms. Raikes later recalled this encounter as follows:
“One day, hearing my name, he [Lewis Carroll] called me to him saying, ‘So you are another Alice. I’m very fond of Alices. Would you like to come and see something which is rather puzzling?’ We followed him into the house which opened, as ours did, into a room full of furniture with a tall mirror standing across one corner.
“‘Now,’ he said, giving me an orange, ‘First tell me which hand you have got that in.’ ‘The right,’ I said. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘go and stand before that glass, and tell me which hand the little girl you see there has got it in.’ After some perplexed contemplation, I said, ‘The left hand.’ ‘Exactly,’ he said, ‘and how do you explain that?’ I couldn’t explain it, but seeing that some solution was expected, I ventured, ‘If I was on the other side of the glass, wouldn’t the orange still be in my right hand?’ I remember his laugh. ‘Well done, little Alice,’ he said. ‘The best answer I’ve had yet.’”
A fuller account of the creative forces driving the creation of Through the Looking-Glass can be found in the Chronology at the end of this work, and in the Reflections following the text. For now, it is enough for the reader to understand that the themes of Through the Looking-Glass are somewhat darker, and reflect upon Carroll’s mindset at this time in his life: the loss of old friends, the hurry of children to grow up (and the further urgency the industrial world puts upon them), hints of death and mortality and the inevitability of Time. There is humor to be found, certainly, and the logical wit of Through the Looking-Glass is even more clever and incisive than that in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. For the reader who is exploring these stories in rapid sequence however, these encroaching themes of darkness will be all the more apparent.
And with that, I welcome you to the train-threaded world of Looking-Glass Land. All aboard, and pleasant journey!
THROUGH THE
LOOKING-GLASS,
AND WHAT
ALICE FOUND THERE
By
LEWIS CARROLL
With Illustrations By
JOHN TENNIEL
THE CHESS PROBLEM
White Pawn (Alice) to play, and win in eleven moves.
Alice, 1st Move: Alice meets Red Queen.
Chessmen, 1st Move: Red Queen to King Rook’s 4th square.
Alice, 2nd Move: Alice through White Queen’s 3rd square (by railway).
Chessmen, 2nd Move: White Queen to Queen Bishop’s 4th square (after shawl).
Alice, 3rd Move: Alice meets White Queen (with shawl).
Chessmen, 3rd Move: White Queen to Queen Bishop’
s 5th square (becomes sheep).
Alice, 4th Move: Alice to White Queen’s 5th square (shop, river, shop).
Chessmen, 4th Move: White Queen to King Bishop’s 8th square (leaves egg on shelf).
Alice, 5th Move: Alice to White Queen’s 6th square (Humpty Dumpty).
Chessmen, 5th Move: White Queen to Queen Bishop’s 8th square (flying from Red Knight).
Alice, 6th Move: Alice to White Queen’s 7th square (forest).
Chessmen, 6th Move: Red Knight to Red King’s 2nd square (check).
Alice, 7th Move (White Knight, acting chivalrously on Alice’s behalf): White Knight takes Red Knight.
Chessmen, 7th Move: White Knight to King Bishop’s 5th square.
Alice, 8th Move: Alice to White Queen’s 8th square (coronation).
Chessmen, 8th Move: Red Queen to Red King’s square (examination).
Alice, 9th Move: Alice becomes Queen.
Chessmen, 9th Move: Red and White Queens castle.
Alice, 10th Move: Alice castles (feast).
Chessmen, 10th Move: White Queen to Queen Rook’s 6th square (soup).
Alice, 11th and Final Move: Alice takes Red Queen and wins.
PREFACE TO 1896 EDITION
AS THE CHESS-PROBLEM, given on the previous page, has puzzled some of my readers, it may be well to explain that it is correctly worked out, so far as the moves are concerned. The alternation of Red and White is perhaps not so strictly observed as it might be, and the “castling” of the three Queens is merely a way of saying that they entered the palace; but the “check” of the White King at move 6, the capture of the Red Knight at move 7, and the final “checkmate” of the Red King, will be found, by any one who will take the trouble to set the pieces and play the moves as directed, to be strictly in accordance with the laws of the game.
The new words, in the poem “Jabberwocky,” have given rise to some differences of opinion as to their pronunciation; so it may be well to give instructions on that point also. Pronounce “slithy” as if it were the words “sly, the”: make the “g” hard in “gyre” and “gimble”: and pronounce “rath” to rhyme with “bath.”
For the sixty-first thousand, fresh electrotypes have been taken from the wood-blocks (which, never having been used for printing from, are in as good condition as when first cut in 1871), and the whole book has been set up afresh with new type. If the artistic qualities of this reissue fall short, in any particular, of those possessed by the original issue, it will not be for want of painstaking on the part of author, publisher, or printer.
I take this opportunity of announcing that the Nursery “Alice,” hitherto priced at four shillings, net, is now to be had on the same terms as the ordinary shilling picture-books—although I feel sure that it is, in every quality (except the text itself, in which I am not qualified to pronounce), greatly superior to them. Four shillings was a perfectly reasonable price to charge, considering the very heavy initial outlay I had incurred: still, as the Public have practically said, “We will not give more than a shilling for a picture-book, however artistically got-up,” I am content to reckon my outlay on the book as so much dead loss, and, rather than let the little ones, for whom it was written, go without it, I am selling it at a price which is, to me, much the same thing as giving it away.
Christmas, 1896
PREFATORY POEM
Child of the pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of a fairy-tale.
I have not seen thy sunny face,
Nor heard thy silver laughter;
No thought of me shall find a place
In thy young life’s hereafter—
Enough that now thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.
A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing—
A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythm of our rowing—
Whose echoes live in memory yet.
Though envious years would say “forget.”
Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread,
With bitter tidings laden,
Shall summon to unwelcome bed
A melancholy maiden!
We are but older children, dear,
Who fret to find our bedtime near.
Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind’s moody madness—
Within, the firelight’s ruddy glow
And childhood’s nest of gladness,
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
And though the shadow of a sigh
May tremble through the story,
For “happy summer days” gone by,
And vanish’d summer glory—
It shall not touch with breath of bale,
The pleasance of our fairy-tale.
Chapter I
Looking-Glass House
ONE THING WAS certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it:—it was the black kitten’s fault entirely. For the white kitten had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of an hour (and bearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it couldn’t have had any hand in the mischief.
The way Dinah washed her children’s faces was this: first she held the poor thing down by its ear with one paw, and then with the other paw she rubbed its face all over, the wrong way, beginning at the nose: and just now, as I said, she was hard at work on the white kitten, which was lying quite still and trying to purr—no doubt feeling that it was all meant for its good.
But the black kitten had been finished with earlier in the afternoon, and so, while Alice was sitting curled up in a corner of the great arm-chair, half talking to herself and half asleep, the kitten had been having a grand game of romps with the ball of worsted Alice had been trying to wind up, and had been rolling it up and down till it had all come undone again; and there it was, spread over the hearth-rug, all knots and tangles, with the kitten running after its own tail in the middle.
“Oh, you wicked little thing!” cried Alice, catching up the kitten, and giving it a little kiss to make it understand that it was in disgrace. “Really, Dinah ought to have taught you better manners! You ought, Dinah, you know you ought!” she added, looking reproachfully at the old cat, and speaking in as cross a voice as she could manage—and then she scrambled back into the arm-chair, taking the kitten and the worsted with her, and began winding up the ball again. But she didn’t get on very fast, as she was talking all the time, sometimes to the kitten, and sometimes to herself. Kitty sat very demurely on her knee, pretending to watch the progress of the winding, and now and then putting out one paw and gently touching the ball, as if it would be glad to help, if it might.
“Do you know what to-morrow is, Kitty?” Alice began. “You’d have guessed if you’d been up in the window with me—only Dinah was making you tidy, so you couldn’t. I was watching the boys getting in sticks for the bonfire—and it wants plenty of sticks, Kitty! Only it got so cold, and it snowed so, they had to leave off. Never mind, Kitty, we’ll go and see the bonfire to-morrow.” Here Alice wound two or three turns of the worsted round the kitten’s neck, just to see how it would look: this led to a scramble, in which the ball rolled down upon the floor, and yards and yards of it got unwound again.
“Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty,” Alice went on as soon as they were comfortably settled again, “when I saw all the mischief you had been doing, I was very nearly opening the window, and putting you out into the snow! And you’d have deserved it, you little mischievous darling! What have you got to say for yourself? Now don’t interrupt me!” she went on, holding up one finger. “I’m going to tell you all your faults. Number one: you squeaked twice while Dinah was washing your face this morning. Now you ca’n’t de
ny it, Kitty: I heard you! What’s that you say?” (pretending that the kitten was speaking.) “Her paw went into your eye? Well, that’s your fault, for keeping your eyes open—if you’d shut them tight up, it wouldn’t have happened. Now don’t make any more excuses, but listen! Number two: you pulled Snowdrop away by the tail just as I had put down the saucer of milk before her! What, you were thirsty, were you? How do you know she wasn’t thirsty too? Now for number three: you unwound every bit of the worsted while I wasn’t looking!
“That’s three faults, Kitty, and you’ve not been punished for any of them yet. You know I’m saving up all your punishments for Wednesday week. Suppose they had saved up all my punishments!” she went on, talking more to herself than the kitten. “What would they do at the end of a year? I should be sent to prison, I suppose, when the day came. Or—let me see—suppose each punishment was to be going without a dinner; then, when the miserable day came, I should have to go without fifty dinners at once! Well, I shouldn’t mind that much! I’d far rather go without them than eat them!
“Do you hear the snow against the window-panes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside. I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.” And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves all in green, and dance about—whenever the wind blows—oh, that’s very pretty!” cried Alice, dropping the ball of worsted to clap her hands. “And I do so wish it was true! I’m sure the woods look sleepy in the autumn, when the leaves are getting brown.
The Complete Alice in Wonderland (Wonderland Imprints Master Editions) Page 13