Complete Works of Lewis Carroll
Page 81
Certainly there might. He, also, had better take to football.
And neither of these readers, the Tortoise continued, is as yet under any logical necessity to accept Z as true?
Quite so, Achilles assented.
Well, now, I want you to consider me as a reader of the second kind, and to force me, logically, to accept Z as true.
A tortoise playing football would be— Achilles was beginning
—an anomaly, of course, the Tortoise hastily interrupted. Don't wander from the point. Let's have Z first, and football afterwards!
I'm to force you to accept Z, am I? Achilles said musingly. And your present position is that you accept A and B, but you don't accept the Hypothetical—
Let's call it C, said the Tortoise.
—but you don't accept
(C) If A and B are true, Z must be true.
That is my present position, said the Tortoise.
Then I must ask you to accept C.
I'll do so, said the Tortoise, as soon as you've entered it in that note-book of yours. What else have you got in it?
Only a few memoranda, said Achilles, nervously fluttering the leaves: a few memoranda of—of the battles in which I have distinguished myself!
Plenty of blank leaves, I see! the Tortoise cheerily remarked. We shall need them all! (Achilles shuddered.) Now write as I dictate:—
(A) Things that are equal to the same are equal to each other.
(B) The two sides of this Triangle are things that are equal to the same.
(C) If A and B are true, Z must be true.
(Z) The two sides of this Triangle are equal to each other.
You should call it D, not Z, said Achilles. It comes next to the other three. If you accept A and B and C, you must accept Z.
And why must I?
Because it follows logically from them. If A and B and C are true, Z must be true. You don't dispute that, I imagine?
If A and B and C are true, Z must be true, the Tortoise thoughtfully repeated. That's another Hypothetical, isn't it? And, if I failed to see its truth, I might accept A and B and C, and still not accept Z, mightn't I?
You might, the candid hero admitted; though such obtuseness would certainly be phenomenal. Still, the event is possible. So I must ask you to grant one more Hypothetical.
Very good. I'm quite willing to grant it, as soon as you've written it down. We will call it
(D) If A and B and C are true, Z must be true.
Have you entered that in your notebook?
I have! Achilles joyfully exclaimed, as he ran the pencil into its sheath. And at last we've got to the end of this ideal race-course! Now that you accept A and B and C and D, of course you accept Z.
Do I? said the Tortoise innocently. Let's make that quite clear. I accept A and B and C and D. Suppose I still refused to accept Z?
Then Logic would take you by the throat, and force you to do it! Achilles triumphantly replied. Logic would tell you, You ca'n't help yourself. Now that you've accepted A and B and C and D, you must accept Z! So you've no choice, you see.
Whatever Logic is good enough to tell me is worth writing down, said the Tortoise. So enter it in your note-book, please. We will call it
(E) If A and B and C and D are true, Z must be true. Until I've granted that, of course I needn't grant Z. So it's quite a necessary step, you see?
I see, said Achilles; and there was a touch of sadness in his tone.
Here the narrator, having pressing business at the Bank, was obliged to leave the happy pair, and did not again pass the spot until some months afterwards. When he did so, Achilles was still seated on the back of the much-enduring Tortoise, and was writing in his note-book, which appeared to be nearly full. The Tortoise was saying, Have you got that last step written down? Unless I've lost count, that makes a thousand and one. There are several millions more to come. And would you mind, as a personal favour, considering what a lot of instruction this colloquy of ours will provide for the Logicians of the Nineteenth Century—would you mind adopting a pun that my cousin the Mock-Turtle will then make, and allowing yourself to be re-named Taught-Us?
As you please! replied the weary warrior, in the hollow tones of despair, as he buried his face in his hands. Provided that you, for your part, will adopt a pun the Mock-Turtle never made, and allow yourself to be re-named A Kill-Ease!
The Poetry Collections
Richmond School, North Yorkshire, where Carroll studied in his youth
EARLY VERSE
CONTENTS
MY FAIRY
PUNCTUALITY
MELODIES
BROTHER AND SISTER
FACTS
RULES AND REGULATIONS
HORRORS
MISUNDERSTANDINGS
AS IT FELL UPON A DAY
YE FATTALE CHEYSE
LAYS OF SORROW No. 1
LAYS OF SORROW No. 2
THE TWO BROTHERS
THE LADY OF THE LADLE
CORONACH
SHE'S ALL MY FANCY PAINTED HIM
PHOTOGRAPHY EXTRAORDINARY
LAYS OF MYSTERY, IMAGINATION, AND HUMOUR No.1
THE PALACE OF HUMBUG
THE MOCK TURTLE'S SONG
UPON THE LONELY MOOR
MISS JONES
MY FAIRY
(1845)
I have a fairy by my side
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said “You must not weep.”
If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
It says “You must not laugh;”
When once I wished to drink some gin
It said “You must not quaff.”
When once a meal I wished to taste
It said “You must not bite;”
When to the wars I went in haste
It said “You must not fight.”
“What may I do?” at length I cried,
Tired of the painful task.
The fairy quietly replied,
And said “You must not ask.”
Moral: “You mustn't.”
PUNCTUALITY
Man naturally loves delay,
And to procrastinate;
Business put off from day to day
Is always done too late.
Let every hour be in its place
Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,
And well enjoy the vacant space,
As though a birthday gift.
And when the hour arrives, be there,
Where'er that “there” may be;
Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair
Let no one ever see.
If dinner at “half-past” be placed,
At “half-past” then be dressed.
If at a “quarter-past” make haste
To be down with the rest.
Better to be before your time,
Than e'er to be behind;
To ope the door while strikes the chime,
That shows a punctual mind.
Moral
Let punctuality and care
Seize every flitting hour,
So shalt thou cull a floweret fair,
E'en from a fading flower.
MELODIES
I
There was an old farmer of Readall,
Who made holes in his face with a needle,
Then went far deeper in
Than to pierce through the skin,
And yet strange to say he was made beadle.
II
There was an eccentric old draper,
Who wore a hat made of brown paper,
It went up to a point,
Yet it looked out of joint,
The cause of which he said was “vapour.”
III
There was once a young man of Oporta,
Who daily got shorter and shorter,
The reason he said
Was the hod on his head,
Which was filled with the heaviest mortar.
His sister, named L
ucy O'Finner,
Grew constantly thinner and thinner;
The reason was plain,
She slept out in the rain,
And was never allowed any dinner.
BROTHER AND SISTER
“Sister, sister, go to bed!
Go and rest your weary head.”
Thus the prudent brother said.
“Do you want a battered hide,
Or scratches to your face applied?”
Thus his sister calm replied.
“Sister, do not raise my wrath.
I'd make you into mutton broth
As easily as kill a moth!”
The sister raised her beaming eye
And looked on him indignantly
And sternly answered, “Only try!”
Off to the cook he quickly ran.
“Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan
To me as quickly as you can.”
“And wherefore should I lend it you?”
“The reason, Cook, is plain to view.
I wish to make an Irish stew.”
“What meat is in that stew to go?”
“My sister'll be the contents!”
“Oh!”
“You'll lend the pan to me, Cook?”
“No!”
Moral: Never stew your sister.
FACTS
Were I to take an iron gun,
And fire it off towards the sun;
I grant 'twould reach its mark at last,
But not till many years had passed.
But should that bullet change its force,
And to the planets take its course,
'Twould never reach the nearest star,
Because it is so very far.
RULES AND REGULATIONS
A short direction
To avoid dejection,
By variations
In occupations,
And prolongation
Of relaxation,
And combinations
Of recreations,
And disputation
On the state of the nation
In adaptation
To your station,
By invitations
To friends and relations,
By evitation
Of amputation,
By permutation
In conversation,
And deep reflection
You'll avoid dejection.
Learn well your grammar,
And never stammer,
Write well and neatly,
And sing most sweetly,
Be enterprising,
Love early rising,
Go walk of six miles,
Have ready quick smiles,
With lightsome laughter,
Soft flowing after.
Drink tea, not coffee;
Never eat toffy.
Eat bread with butter.
Once more, don't stutter.
Don't waste your money,
Abstain from honey.
Shut doors behind you,
(Don't slam them, mind you.)
Drink beer, not porter.
Don't enter the water
Till to swim you are able.
Sit close to the table.
Take care of a candle.
Shut a door by the handle,
Don't push with your shoulder
Until you are older.
Lose not a button.
Refuse cold mutton.
Starve your canaries.
Believe in fairies.
If you are able,
Don't have a stable
With any mangers.
Be rude to strangers.
Moral: Behave.
HORRORS
Methought I walked a dismal place
Dim horrors all around;
The air was thick with many a face,
And black as night the ground.
I saw a monster come with speed,
Its face of grimmliest green,
On human beings used to feed,
Most dreadful to be seen.
I could not speak, I could not fly,
I fell down in that place,
I saw the monster's horrid eye
Come leering in my face!
Amidst my scarcely-stifled groans,
Amidst my moanings deep,
I heard a voice, “Wake! Mr. Jones,
You're screaming in your sleep!”
MISUNDERSTANDINGS
If such a thing had been my thought,
I should have told you so before,
But as I didn't, then you ought
To ask for such a thing no more,
For to teach one who has been taught
Is always thought an awful bore.
Now to commence my argument,
I shall premise an observation,
On which the greatest kings have leant
When striving to subdue a nation,
And e'en the wretch who pays no rent
By it can solve a hard equation.
Its truth is such, the force of reason
Can not avail to shake its power,
Yet e'en the sun in summer season
Doth not dispel so mild a shower
As this, and he who sees it, sees on
Beyond it to a sunny bower—
No more, when ignorance is treason,
Let wisdom's brows be cold and sour.
AS IT FELL UPON A DAY
As I was sitting on the hearth
(And O, but a hog is fat!)
A man came hurrying up the path,
(And what care I for that?)
When he came the house unto,
His breath both quick and short he drew.
When he came before the door,
His face grew paler than before.
When he turned the handle round,
The man fell fainting to the ground.
When he crossed the lofty hall,
Once and again I heard him fall.
When he came up to the turret stair,
He shrieked and tore his raven hair.
When he came my chamber in,
(And O, but a hog is fat!)
I ran him through with a golden pin,
(And what care I for that?)
YE FATTALE CHEYSE
Ytte wes a mirke an dreiry cave,
Weet scroggis owr ytte creepe.
Gurgles withyn ye flowan wave
Throw channel braid an deep
Never withyn that dreir recesse
Wes sene ye lyghte of daye,
Quhat bode azont yts mirkinesse
Nane kend an nane mote saye.
Ye monarche rade owr brake an brae
An drave ye yellynge packe,
Hiz meany au' richte cadgily
Are wendynge yn hiz tracke.
Wi' eager iye, wi' yalpe an crye
Ye hondes yode down ye rocks,
Ahead of au' their companye
Renneth ye panky foxe.
Ye foxe hes soughte that cave of awe
Forewearied wi' hiz rin.
Quha nou ys he sae bauld an braw
To dare to enter yn?
Wi' eager bounde hes ilka honde
Gane till that caverne dreir,
Fou many a yowl ys hearde arounde,
Fou many a screech of feir.
Like ane wi' thirstie appetite
Quha swalloweth orange pulp,
Wes hearde a huggle an a bite,
A swallow an a gulp.
Ye kynge hes lap frae aff hiz steid,
Outbrayde hiz trenchant brande;
“Quha on my packe of hondes doth feed,
Maun deye benead thilke hande.”
Sae sed, sae dune: ye stonderes hearde
Fou many a mickle stroke,
Sowns lyke ye flappynge of a birde,
A struggle an a choke.
Owte of ye cave scarce fette they ytte,
Wi pow an push and hau' —
Whereof Y've dra
wne a littel bytte,
Bot durst not draw ytte au.
bushes.
beyond.
darkness.
company.
merrily.
going journeying.
went.
cunning.
much wearied.
brave.
full.
howl.
is.
full.
drawn.
bystanders.
heavy.
sounds.
fetched.
pull.
haul.
all.
LAYS OF SORROW No. 1
The day was wet, the rain fell souse
Like jars of strawberry jam, a
Sound was heard in the old henhouse,
A beating of a hammer.
Of stalwart form, and visage warm,
Two youths were seen within it,
Splitting up an old tree into perches for their poultry
At a hundred strokes a minute.
The work is done, the hen has taken
Possession of her nest and eggs,
Without a thought of eggs and bacon,
(Or I am very much mistaken:)
She turns over each shell,
To be sure that all's well,
Looks into the straw
To see there's no flaw,
Goes once round the house,
Half afraid of a mouse,
Then sinks calmly to rest
On the top of her nest,
First doubling up each of her legs.
Time rolled away, and so did every shell,
“Small by degrees and beautifully less,”
As the sage mother with a powerful spell
Forced each in turn its contents to express,
But ah! “imperfect is expression,”
Some poet said, I don't care who,
If you want to know you must go elsewhere,
One fact I can tell, if you're willing to hear,
He never attended a Parliament Session,
For I'm certain that if he had ever been there,
Full quickly would he have changed his ideas,
With the hissings, the hootings, the groans and the cheers.
And as to his name it is pretty clear
That it wasn't me and it wasn't you!
And so it fell upon a day,
(That is, it never rose again)
A chick was found upon the hay,
Its little life had ebbed away.
No longer frolicsome and gay,
No longer could it run or play.
“And must we, chicken, must we part?”