The Complete Alice in Wonderland (Wonderland Imprints Master Editions)

by Lewis Carroll

  “I ca’n’t stand this any longer!” she cried, as she jumped up and seized the tablecloth with both hands: one good pull, and plates, dishes, guests and candles came crashing down together in a heap on the floor.

  “And as for you,” she went on, turning fiercely upon the Red Queen, whom she considered as the cause of all the mischief—but the Queen was no longer at her side—she had suddenly dwindled down to the size of a little doll, and was now on the table, merrily running round and round after her own shawl, which was trailing behind her.

  At any other time, Alice would have felt surprised at this, but she was far too much excited to be surprised at anything now. “As for you,” she repeated, catching hold of the little creature in the very act of jumping over a bottle which had just lighted upon the table, “I’ll shake you into a kitten, that I will!”

  Chapter X

  Shaking

  SHE TOOK HER off the table as she spoke, and shook her backwards and forwards with all her might.

  The Red Queen made no resistance whatever: only her face grew very small, and her eyes got large and green: and still, as Alice went on shaking her, she kept on growing shorter—and fatter—and softer—and rounder—and—

  Chapter XI

  Waking

  —and it really was a kitten, after all.

  Chapter XII

  Which Dreamed It?

  “YOUR RED MAJESTY shouldn’t purr so loud,” Alice said, rubbing her eyes, and addressing the kitten, respectfully, yet with some severity. “You woke me out of oh! such a nice dream! And you’ve been along with me, Kitty—all through the Looking-Glass world. Did you know it, dear?”

  It is a very inconvenient habit of kittens (Alice had once made the remark) that, whatever you say to them, they always purr. “If they would only purr for ‘yes,’ and mew for ‘no,’ or any rule of that sort,” she had said, “so that one could keep up a conversation! But how can you talk with a person if they always say the same thing?”

  On this occasion the kitten only purred: and it was impossible to guess whether it meant ‘yes’ or ‘no.’

  So Alice hunted among the chessmen on the table till she had found the Red Queen: then she went down on her knees on the hearth-rug, and put the kitten and the Queen to look at each other. “Now, Kitty!” she cried, clapping her hands triumphantly. “Confess that was what you turned into!”

  (“But it wouldn’t look at it,” she said, when she was explaining the thing afterwards to her sister: “it turned away its head, and pretended not to see it: but it looked a little ashamed of itself, so I think it must have been the Red Queen.”)

  “Sit up a little more stiffly, dear!” Alice cried with a merry laugh. “And curtsey while you’re thinking what to—what to purr. It saves time, remember!” And she caught it up and gave it one little kiss, “just in honour of its having been a Red Queen.”

  “Snowdrop, my pet!” she went on, looking over her shoulder at the White Kitten, which was still patiently undergoing its toilet, “when will Dinah have finished with your White Majesty, I wonder? That must be the reason you were so untidy in my dream.—Dinah! Do you know that you’re scrubbing a White Queen? Really, it’s most disrespectful of you!”

  “And what did Dinah turn to, I wonder?” she prattled on, as she settled comfortably down, with one elbow on the rug, and her chin in her hand, to watch the kittens. “Tell me, Dinah, did you turn to Humpty Dumpty? I think you did—however, you’d better not mention it to your friends just yet, for I’m not sure.

  “By the way, Kitty, if only you’d been really with me in my dream, there was one thing you would have enjoyed—I had such a quantity of poetry said to me, all about fishes! To-morrow morning you shall have a real treat. All the time you’re eating your breakfast, I’ll repeat ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’ to you; and then you can make believe it’s oysters, my dear!

  “Now, Kitty, let’s consider who it was that dreamed it all. This is a serious question, my dear, and you should not go on licking your paw like that—as if Dinah hadn’t washed you this morning! You see, Kitty, it must have been either me or the Red King. He was part of my dream, of course—but then I was part of his dream, too! Was it the Red King, Kitty? You were his wife, my dear, so you ought to know—Oh, Kitty, do help to settle it! I’m sure your paw can wait!” But the provoking kitten only began on the other paw, and pretended it hadn’t heard the question.

  Which do you think it was?

  CLOSING POEM

  A boat, beneath a sunny sky

  Lingering onward dreamily

  In an evening of July —

  Children three that nestle near,

  Eager eye and willing ear,

  Pleased a simple tale to hear —

  Long has paled that sunny sky:

  Echoes fade and memories die:

  Autumn frosts have slain July.

  Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

  Alice moving under skies

  Never seen by waking eyes.

  Children yet, the tale to hear,

  Eager eye and willing ear,

  Lovingly shall nestle near.

  In a Wonderland they lie,

  Dreaming as the days go by,

  Dreaming as the summers die:

  Ever drifting down the stream —

  Lingering in the golden gleam —

  Life, what is it but a dream?

  PART IV

  THE WASP IN A WIG

  Introduction

  THE FOLLOWING “secret chapter” of Through the Looking-Glass was written by Carroll, and readied for publication in 1870. In June of that year, John Tenniel wrote Carroll to recommend excising the incident from the narrative. Carroll, reviewing the episode after Tenniel’s criticism, was inclined to agree. And with that, The Wasp in a Wig faded into obscurity for a century.

  Carrollian scholars believed that the episode was completely lost. It did not in fact come to light until 1974, when an auction of Carroll’s effects revealed that a typeface copy of the Wasp episode was still in existence. In fact, it even included Carroll’s own written notes and explanation of its removal!

  Now that we have the opportunity to review the chapter, we can see why Tenniel recommended that the incident be removed. (Aside from the fact that it was going to be difficult to illustrate, apparently.) The Wasp shares elements of the Gnat and the White Knight, and all of the themes addressed here are driven home with much more sympathy and conviction in the White Knight’s farewell. The writing is by no means poor, but the episode simply seems repetitive when viewed in light of the other chapters.

  Nevertheless, The Wasp in a Wig is a fascinating piece of Carrollian writing. Alice’s admirable qualities are further explored, the Looking-Glass Land theme of rushing time is heightened, and the character of the Wasp is quite interesting as well. I decided early on that The Complete Alice in Wonderland could never truly be complete, without the inclusion of this “lost” chapter. I hope you find it as intriguing as I do!

  The Wasp in a Wig

  (NOTE: The original episode was intended to be inserted at the end of Chapter VIII, following Alice’s farewell to the White Knight, and preceding Chapter IX, “Queen Alice.”)

  ...and she was just going to spring over, when she heard a deep sigh, which seemed to come from the wood behind her.

  “There’s somebody very unhappy there,” she thought, looking anxiously back to see what was the matter. Something like a very old man (only that his face was more like a wasp) was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree, all huddled up together, and shivering as if he were very cold.

  “I don’t think I can be of any use to him,” was Alice’s first thought, as she turned to spring over the brook:—“but I’ll just ask him what’s the matter,” she added, checking herself on the very edge. “If I once jump over, everything will change, and then I ca’n’t help him.”

  So she went back to the Wasp—rather unwillingly, for she was very anxious to be a queen.

  “Oh,
my old bones, my old bones!” he was grumbling as Alice came up to him.

  “It’s rheumatism, I should think,” Alice said to herself, and she stooped over him, and said very kindly, “I hope you’re not in much pain?”

  The Wasp only shook his shoulders, and turned his head away. “Ah deary me!” he said to himself.

  “Can I do anything for you?” Alice went on. “Aren’t you rather cold here?”

  “How you go on!” the Wasp said in a peevish tone. “Worrity, worrity! There never was such a child!”

  Alice felt rather offended at this answer, and was very nearly walking on and leaving him, but she thought to herself “Perhaps it’s only pain that makes him so cross.” So she tried once more.

  “Wo’n’t you let me help you round to the other side? You’ll be out of the cold wind there.”

  The Wasp took her arm, and let her help him round the tree, but when he got settled down again he only said, as before, “Worrity, worrity! Ca’n’t you leave a body alone?”

  “Would you like me to read you a bit of this?” Alice went on, as she picked up a newspaper which had been lying at his feet.

  “You may read it if you’ve a mind to,” the Wasp said, rather sulkily. “Nobody’s hindering you, that I know of.”

  So Alice sat down by him, and spread out the paper on her knees, and began. “Latest News. The Exploring Party have made another tour in the Pantry, and have found five new lumps of white sugar, large and in fine condition. In coming back—”

  “Any brown sugar?” the Wasp interrupted.

  Alice hastily ran her eyes down the paper and said “No. It says nothing about brown.”

  “No brown sugar!” grumbled the Wasp. “A nice exploring party!”

  “In coming back,” Alice went on reading, “they found a lake of treacle. The banks of the lake were blue and white, and looked like china. While tasting the treacle, they had a sad accident: two of their party were engulphed—”

  “Were what?” the Wasp asked in a very cross voice.

  “En-gulph-ed,” Alice repeated, dividing the word in syllables.

  “There’s no such word in the language!” said the Wasp.

  “It’s in the newspaper, though,” Alice said a little timidly.

  “Let’s stop it here!” said the Wasp, fretfully turning away his head.

  Alice put down the newspaper. “I’m afraid you’re not well,” she said in a soothing tone. “Ca’n’t I do anything for you?”

  “It’s all along of the wig,” the Wasp said in a much gentler voice.

  “Along of the wig?” Alice repeated, quite pleased to find that he was recovering his temper.

  “You’d be cross too, if you’d a wig like mine,” the Wasp went on. “They jokes, at one. And they worrits one. And then I gets cross. And I gets cold. And I gets under a tree. And I gets a yellow handkerchief. And I ties up my face—as at the present.”

  Alice looked pityingly at him. “Tying up the face is very good for the toothache,” she said.

  “And it’s very good for the conceit,” added the Wasp.

  Alice didn’t catch the word exactly. “Is that a kind of toothache?” she asked.

  The Wasp considered a little. “Well, no,” he said: “it’s when you hold up your head—so—without bending your neck.”

  “Oh, you mean stiff-neck,” said Alice.

  The Wasp said “that’s a new-fangled name. They called it conceit in my time.”

  “Conceit isn’t a disease at all,” Alice remarked.

  “It is, though,” said the Wasp: “wait till you have it, and then you’ll know. And when you catches it, just try tying a yellow handkerchief round your face. It’ll cure you in no time!”

  He untied the handkerchief as he spoke, and Alice looked at his wig in great surprise. It was bright yellow like the handkerchief, and all tangled and tumbled about like a heap of sea-weed. “You could make your wig much neater,” she said, “if only you had a comb.”

  “What, you’re a Bee, are you?” the Wasp said, looking at her with more interest. “And you’ve got a comb. Much honey?”

  “It isn’t that kind,” Alice hastily explained. “It’s to comb hair with—your wig’s so very rough, you know.”

  “I’ll tell you how I came to wear it,” the Wasp said. “When I was young, you know, my ringlets used to wave—”

  A curious idea came into Alice’s head. Almost every one she had met had repeated poetry to her, and she thought she would try if the Wasp couldn’t do it too. “Would you mind saying it in rhyme?” she asked very politely.

  “It ain’t what I’m used to,” said the Wasp: “however I’ll try; wait a bit.” He was silent for a few moments, and then began again—

  “When I was young, my ringlets waved

  And curled and crinkled on my head:

  And then they said ‘You should be shaved,

  And wear a yellow wig instead.’

  But when I followed their advice,

  And they had noticed the effect,

  They said I did not look so nice

  As they had ventured to expect.

  They said it did not fit, and so

  It made me look extremely plain:

  But what was I to do, you know?

  My ringlets would not grow again.

  So now that I am old and grey,

  And all my hair is nearly gone,

  They take my wig from me and say

  ‘How can you put such rubbish on?’

  And still, whenever I appear,

  They hoot at me and call me ‘Pig!’

  And that is why they do it, dear,

  Because I wear a yellow wig.”

  “I’m very sorry for you,” Alice said heartily: “and I think if your wig fitted a little better, they wouldn’t tease you quite so much.”

  “Your wig fits very well,” the Wasp murmured, looking at her with an expression of admiration: “it’s the shape of your head as does it. Your jaws ain’t well shaped, though—I should think you couldn’t bite well?”

  Alice began with a little scream of laughing, which she turned into a cough as well as she could. At last she managed to say gravely, “I can bite anything I want.”

  “Not with a mouth as small as that,” the Wasp persisted. “If you was a-fighting, now—could you get hold of the other one by the back of the neck?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Alice.

  “Well, that’s because your jaws are too short,” the Wasp went on: “but the top of your head is nice and round.” He took off his own wig as he spoke, and stretched out one claw towards Alice, as if he wished to do the same for her, but she kept out of reach, and would not take the hint. So he went on with his criticisms.

  “Then, your eyes—they’re too much in front, no doubt. One would have done as well as two, if you must have them so close—”

  Alice did not like having so many personal remarks made on her, and as the Wasp had quite recovered his spirits, and was getting very talkative, she thought she might safely leave him. “I think I must be going on now,” she said. “Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye, and thank-ye,” said the Wasp, and Alice tripped down the hill again, quite pleased that she had gone back and given a few minutes to making the poor old creature comfortable.

  PART V

  REFLECTIONS ON THE LOOKING-GLASS

  By Kent David Kelly

  THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS is, if anything, a treasure trove even more filled with secrets than Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Carroll had, in the writing of this novel, observed the success of his prior work for several years. He knew what his audience wanted, and he provided it. Looking-Glass is quite different, however, in that Carroll at the time was no longer a friendly companion of Alice Liddell (due to the insistence of Alice’s mother, as Alice grew to be a young woman). However, Carroll still drew from many incidents in his earlier life with Alice, and supplemented these scenes with even more parodies, hinted references and in-jokes than ever befo
re.

  I hope you find these notes and observations toward Through the Looking-Glass entertaining. They were difficult to write, but the secrets revealed here are just as surprising as those for Wonderland, if not more so!

  The Chess Problem

  Clarifying the Conundrum: Due to the limitations of the Kindle regarding modifiable text and the challenge of a dual-column display on a narrow screen, the format of the original move summary has been changed slightly to show the correctly alternating moves between White and Red. Further, Carroll’s intentionally cryptic acronyms following strict Victorian chess notation (“W.Q. to Q. B’s 4th,” etc.) have been spelled out to improve the reader’s understanding. This is one of the exceedingly few passages where I truly feel that direct de-codification actually enriches Carroll’s text!

  The Nature of the Game: In the same manner that Wonderland is ruled by game pieces (cards), Looking-Glass Land is ruled by the game of chess. The land itself is laid out like a chessboard, reflecting the “squared-off” nature of the English countryside with various fields bordered by fences, hedges and streams. In the Victorian age, chess pieces were often red and white, as opposed to the black and white known today. The additional complexity and maturity of the game of chess (as opposed to aimless cards and croquet) is a telling sign that Alice is growing up, and becoming cleverer all the time. This motif also reflects the nature of the powers of Wonderland, with the red and white roses, and the importance of those colors in the War of the Roses of England’s history.