PREFACE
If—and the
thing is wildly possible—the charge of writing nonsense were ever brought
against the author of this brief but instructive poem, it would be based, I
feel convinced, on the line (in p.4)
"Then the bowsprit got mixed with the
rudder sometimes."
In view of
this painful possibility, I will not (as I might) appeal indignantly to my
other writings as a proof that I am incapable of such a deed: I will not (as I
might) point to the strong moral purpose of this poem itself, to the
arithmetical principles so cautiously inculcated in it, or to its noble
teachings in Natural History—I will take the more prosaic course of simply
explaining how it happened.
The Bellman,
who was almost morbidly sensitive about appearances, used to have the bowsprit
unshipped once or twice a week to be revarnished, and it more than once
happened, when the time came for replacing it, that no one on board could
remember which end of the ship it belonged to. They knew it was not of the
slightest use to appeal to the Bellman about it—he would only refer to his
Naval Code, and read out in pathetic tones Admiralty Instructions which none of
them had ever been able to understand—so it generally ended in its being
fastened on, anyhow, across the rudder. The helmsman used to stand by with
tears in his eyes; he knew it was all wrong, but alas! Rule 42 of the Code,
"No one shall speak to the Man at the Helm," had been completed by
the Bellman himself with the words "and the Man at the Helm shall speak to
no one." So remonstrance was impossible, and no steering could be done
till the next varnishing day. During these bewildering intervals the ship
usually sailed backwards.
As this poem
is to some extent connected with the lay of the Jabberwock, let me take this
opportunity of answering a question that has often been asked me, how to
pronounce "slithy toves." The "i" in "slithy" is
long, as in "writhe"; and "toves" is pronounced so as to
rhyme with "groves." Again, the first "o" in
"borogoves" is pronounced like the "o" in
"borrow." I have heard people try to give it the sound of the
"o" in "worry". Such is Human Perversity.
This also
seems a fitting occasion to notice the other hard works in that poem.
Humpty-Dumpty's theory, of two meanings packed into one word like a
portmanteau, seems to me the right explanation for all.
For instance,
take the two words "fuming" and "furious." Make up your
mind that you will say both words, but leave it unsettled which you will first.
Now open your mouth and speak. If your thoughts incline ever so little towards
"fuming," you will say "fuming-furious;" if they turn, by
even a hair's breadth, towards "furious," you will say
"furious-fuming;" but if you have the rarest of gifts, a perfectly
balanced mind, you will say "frumious."
Supposing
that, when Pistol uttered the well-known words—
"Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!"
Justice
Shallow had felt certain that it was either William or Richard, but had not
been able to settle which, so that he could not possibly say either name before
the other, can it be doubted that, rather than die, he would have gasped out
"Rilchiam!"
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