Complete Works of Lewis Carroll (120 page)

CANTO V - Byckerment

“Don’t they consult the ‘Victims,’ though?”

I said.  “They should, by rights,

Give them a chance - because, you know,

The tastes of people differ so,

Especially in Sprites.”

The Phantom shook his head and smiled.

“Consult them?  Not a bit!

‘Twould be a job to drive one wild,

To satisfy one single child -

There’d be no end to it!”

“Of course you can’t leave
children
free,”

Said I, “to pick and choose:

But, in the case of men like me,

I think ‘Mine Host’ might fairly be

Allowed to state his views.”

He said “It really wouldn’t pay -

Folk are so full of fancies.

We visit for a single day,

And whether then we go, or stay,

Depends on circumstances.

“And, though we don’t consult ‘Mine Host’

Before the thing’s arranged,

Still, if he often quits his post,

Or is not a well-mannered Ghost,

Then you can have him changed.

“But if the host’s a man like you -

I mean a man of sense;

And if the house is not too new - ”

“Why, what has
that
,” said I, “to do

With Ghost’s convenience?”

“A new house does not suit, you know -

It’s such a job to trim it:

But, after twenty years or so,

The wainscotings begin to go,

So twenty is the limit.”

“To trim” was not a phrase I could

Remember having heard:

“Perhaps,” I said, “you’ll be so good

As tell me what is understood

Exactly by that word?”

“It means the loosening all the doors,”

The Ghost replied, and laughed:

“It means the drilling holes by scores

In all the skirting-boards and floors,

To make a thorough draught.

“You’ll sometimes find that one or two

Are all you really need

To let the wind come whistling through -

But
here
there’ll be a lot to do!”

I faintly gasped “Indeed!

“If I’d been rather later, I’ll

Be bound,” I added, trying

(Most unsuccessfully) to smile,

“You’d have been busy all this while,

Trimming and beautifying?”

“Why, no,” said he; “perhaps I should

Have stayed another minute -

But still no Ghost, that’s any good,

Without an introduction would

Have ventured to begin it.

“The proper thing, as you were late,

Was certainly to go:

But, with the roads in such a state,

I got the Knight-Mayor’s leave to wait

For half an hour or so.”

“Who’s the Knight-Mayor?”
I cried.  Instead

Of answering my question,

“Well, if you don’t know
that
,” he said,

“Either you never go to bed,

Or you’ve a grand digestion!

“He goes about and sits on folk

That eat too much at night:

His duties are to pinch, and poke,

And squeeze them till they nearly choke.”

(I said “It serves them right!”)

“And folk who sup on things like these - ”

He muttered, “eggs and bacon -

Lobster - and duck - and toasted cheese -

If they don’t get an awful squeeze,

I’m very much mistaken!

“He is immensely fat, and so

Well suits the occupation:

In point of fact, if you must know,

We used to call him years ago,

The Mayor and Corporation!

“The day he was elected Mayor

I
know
that every Sprite meant

To vote for
me
, but did not dare -

He was so frantic with despair

And furious with excitement.

“When it was over, for a whim,

He ran to tell the King;

And being the reverse of slim,

A two-mile trot was not for him

A very easy thing.

“So, to reward him for his run

(As it was baking hot,

And he was over twenty stone),

The King proceeded, half in fun,

To knight him on the spot.”

“’Twas a great liberty to take!”

(I fired up like a rocket).

“He did it just for punning’s sake:

‘The man,’ says Johnson, ‘that would make

A pun, would pick a pocket!’”

“A man,” said he, “is not a King.”

I argued for a while,

And did my best to prove the thing -

The Phantom merely listening

With a contemptuous smile.

At last, when, breath and patience spent,

I had recourse to smoking -

“Your
aim
,” he said, “is excellent:

But - when you call it
argument
-

Of course you’re only joking?”

Stung by his cold and snaky eye,

I roused myself at length

To say “At least I do defy

The veriest sceptic to deny

That union is strength!”

“That’s true enough,” said he, “yet stay - ”

I listened in all meekness -

“
Union
is strength, I’m bound to say;

In fact, the thing’s as clear as day;

But
onions
are a weakness.”

CANTO VI - Dyscomfyture

As one who strives a hill to climb,

Who never climbed before:

Who finds it, in a little time,

Grow every moment less sublime,

And votes the thing a bore:

Yet, having once begun to try,

Dares not desert his quest,

But, climbing, ever keeps his eye

On one small hut against the sky

Wherein he hopes to rest:

Who climbs till nerve and force are spent,

With many a puff and pant:

Who still, as rises the ascent,

In language grows more violent,

Although in breath more scant:

Who, climbing, gains at length the place

That crowns the upward track.

And, entering with unsteady pace,

Receives a buffet in the face

That lands him on his back:

And feels himself, like one in sleep,

Glide swiftly down again,

A helpless weight, from steep to steep,

Till, with a headlong giddy sweep,

He drops upon the plain -

So I, that had resolved to bring

Conviction to a ghost,

And found it quite a different thing

From any human arguing,

Yet dared not quit my post

But, keeping still the end in view

To which I hoped to come,

I strove to prove the matter true

By putting everything I knew

Into an axiom:

Commencing every single phrase

With ‘therefore’ or ‘because,’

I blindly reeled, a hundred ways,

About the syllogistic maze,

Unconscious where I was.

Quoth he “That’s regular clap-trap:

Don’t bluster any more.

Now
do
be cool and take a nap!

Such a ridiculous old chap

Was never seen before!

“You’re like a man I used to meet,

Who got one day so furious

In arguing, the simple heat

Scorched both his slippers off his feet!”

I said “
That’s very curious
!”

“Well, it
is
curious, I agree,

And sounds perhaps like fibs:

But still it’s true as true can be -

As sure as your name’s Tibbs,” said he.

I said “My name’s
not
Tibbs.”

“
Not
Tibbs!”
he cried - his tone became

A shade or two less hearty -

“Why, no,” said I.  “My proper name

Is Tibbets - ”  “Tibbets?”  “Aye, the same.”

“Why, then YOU’RE NOT THE PARTY!”

With that he struck the board a blow

That shivered half the glasses.

“Why couldn’t you have told me so

Three quarters of an hour ago,

You prince of all the asses?

“To walk four miles through mud and rain,

To spend the night in smoking,

And then to find that it’s in vain -

And I’ve to do it all again -

It’s really
too
provoking!

“Don’t talk!”
he cried, as I began

To mutter some excuse.

“Who can have patience with a man

That’s got no more discretion than

An idiotic goose?

“To keep me waiting here, instead

Of telling me at once

That this was not the house!”
he said.

“There, that’ll do - be off to bed!

Don’t gape like that, you dunce!”

“It’s very fine to throw the blame

On
me
in such a fashion!

Why didn’t you enquire my name

The very minute that you came?”

I answered in a passion.

“Of course it worries you a bit

To come so far on foot -

But how was
I
to blame for it?”

“Well, well!”
said he.  “I must admit

That isn’t badly put.

“And certainly you’ve given me

The best of wine and victual -

Excuse my violence,” said he,

“But accidents like this, you see,

They put one out a little.

“’Twas
my
fault after all, I find -

Shake hands, old Turnip-top!”

The name was hardly to my mind,

But, as no doubt he meant it kind,

I let the matter drop.

“Good-night, old Turnip-top, good-night!

When I am gone, perhaps

They’ll send you some inferior Sprite,

Who’ll keep you in a constant fright

And spoil your soundest naps.

“Tell him you’ll stand no sort of trick;

Then, if he leers and chuckles,

You just be handy with a stick

(Mind that it’s pretty hard and thick)

And rap him on the knuckles!

“Then carelessly remark ‘Old coon!

Perhaps you’re not aware

That, if you don’t behave, you’ll soon

Be chuckling to another tune -

And so you’d best take care!’

“That’s the right way to cure a Sprite

Of such like goings-on -

But gracious me!  It’s getting light!

Good-night, old Turnip-top, good-night!”

A nod, and he was gone.