詩品
Produced by Ni-Yen Wu
詩品
氣之動物，物之感人，故搖蕩性情，行諸舞詠。照燭三才，暉麗萬有，靈
衹待之以致饗，幽微藉之以昭告，動天地，感鬼神，莫近於詩。昔〈南風
〉之詞，〈卿雲〉之頌，厥義敻矣。夏歌曰：「鬱陶乎予心。」楚謠曰：
「名予曰正則。」雖詩體未全，然是五言之濫觴也。逮漢李陵，始著五言
之目矣。古詩眇邈，人世難詳，推其文體，固是炎漢之製，非衰周之倡也
。自王、揚、枚、馬之徒，詞賦競爽，而吟詠靡聞。從李都尉迄班婕妤，
將百年間，有婦人焉，一人而已。詩人之風，頓已缺喪。東京二百載中，
惟有班固〈詠史〉，質木無文。降及建安，曹公父子篤好斯文，平原兄弟
鬱為文棟，劉楨、王粲為其羽翼。次有攀龍托鳳，自致於屬車者，蓋將百
計。彬彬之盛，大備於時矣。爾後陵遲衰微，迄於有晉。太康中，三張、
二陸、兩潘、一左，勃爾復興，踵武前王，風流未沫，亦文章之中興也。
永嘉時，貴黃、老，稍尚虛談。於時篇什，理過其辭，淡乎寡味。爰及江
表，微波尚傳，孫綽、許詢、桓、庾諸公詩，皆平典似《道德論》，建安
風力盡矣。先是郭景純用雋上之才，變創其體。劉越石仗清剛之氣，贊成
厥美。然彼眾我寡，未能動俗。逮義熙中，謝益壽斐然繼作。元嘉中，有
謝靈運，才高詞盛，富豔難蹤，固已含跨劉、郭，陵轢潘、左。故知陳思
為建安之傑，公幹、仲宣為輔。陸機為太康之英，安仁、景陽為輔。謝客
為元嘉之雄，顏延年為輔。斯皆五言之冠冕，文詞之命世也。夫四言，文
約意廣，取效《風》、《騷》，便可多得。每苦文繁而意少，故世罕習焉
。五言居文詞之要，是眾作之有滋味者也，故云會於流俗。豈不以指事造
形，窮情寫物，最為詳切者耶？故詩有三義焉：一曰興，二曰比，三曰賦
。文已盡而意有餘，興也；因物喻志，比也；直書其事，寓言寫物，賦也
。宏斯三義，酌而用之，幹之以風力，潤之以丹彩，使味之者無極，聞之
者動心，是詩之至也。若專用比興，患在意深，意深則詞躓。若但用賦體
，患在意浮，意浮則文散，嬉成流移，文無止泊，有蕪漫之累矣。若乃春
風春鳥，秋月秋蟬，夏雲暑雨，冬月祁寒，斯四候之感諸詩者也。嘉會寄
詩以親，離群託詩以怨。至於楚臣去境，漢妾辭宮；或骨橫朔野，或魂逐
飛蓬；或負戈外戍，殺氣雄邊；塞客衣單，孀閨淚盡；或士有解佩出朝，
一去忘返；女有揚蛾入寵，再盼傾國。凡斯種種，感蕩心靈，非陳詩何以
展其義；非長歌何以騁其情？故曰：「《詩》可以群，可以怨。」使窮賤
易安，幽居靡悶，莫尚於詩矣。故詞人作者，罔不愛好。今之士俗，斯風
熾矣。纔能勝衣，甫就小學，必甘心而馳騖焉。於是庸音雜體，人各為容
。至使膏腴子弟，恥文不逮，終朝點綴，分夜呻吟。獨觀謂為警策，眾睹
終淪平鈍。次有輕薄之徒，笑曹、劉為古拙，謂鮑照羲皇上人，謝朓今古
獨步。而師鮑照終不及「日中市朝滿」，學謝朓劣得「黃鳥度青枝」。徒
自棄於高明，無涉於文流矣。觀王公縉紳之士，每博論之餘，何嘗不以詩
為口實。隨其嗜欲，商搉不同，淄、澠並泛，朱紫相奪，喧議競起，準的
無依。近彭城劉士章，俊賞之士，疾其淆亂，欲為當世詩品，口陳標榜。
其文未遂感而作焉。昔九品論人，《七略》裁士，校以貴實，誠多未值。
至若詩之為技，較爾可知。以類推之，殆均博弈。方今皇帝，資生知之上
才，體沈鬱之幽思，文麗日月，賞究天人。昔在貴游，已為稱首。況八紘
既奄風靡雲蒸，抱玉者聯肩，握珠者踵武。以瞰漢、魏而不顧，吞晉、宋
於胸中。諒非農歌轅議，敢致流別。嶸之今錄，庶周旋於閭里，均之於談
笑耳。
一品之中，略以世代為先後，不以優劣為詮次。又其人既往，其文克定。
今所寓言，不錄存者。夫屬詞比事，乃為通談。若乃經國文符，應資博古
，撰德駁奏。宜窮往烈。至乎吟詠情性，亦何貴於用事？「思君如流水」
，既是即目。「高臺多悲風」，亦惟所見。「清晨登隴首」，羌無故實。
「明月照積雪」，詎出經史。觀古今勝語，多非補假，皆由直尋。顏延、
謝莊，尤為繁密，於時化之。故大明、泰始中，文章殆同書抄近任昉、王
元長等，詞不貴奇，競須新事，爾來作者，寖以成俗。遂乃句無虛語，語
無虛字，拘攣補衲，蠹文已甚。但自然英旨，罕值其人。詞既失高，則宜
加事義。雖謝天才，且表學問，亦一理乎！陸機 〈文賦〉通而無貶；李
充《翰林》，疏而不切；王微《鴻寶》，密而無裁；顏延論文，精而難曉
；摯虞《文志》詳而博贍，頗曰知言：觀斯數家，皆就談文體，而不顯優
劣。至於謝客集詩，逢詩輒取；張騭《文士》，逢文即書：諸英志錄，並
義在文，曾無品第。嶸今所錄，止乎五言。雖然，網羅今古，詞文殆集。
輕欲辨彰清濁，掎摭病利，凡百二十人。預此宗流者，便稱才子。至斯三
品升降，差非定制，方申變裁，請寄知者爾。
昔曹、劉殆文章之聖，陸、謝為體貳之才，銳精研思，千百年中，而不聞
宮商之辨，四聲之論。或謂前達偶然不見，豈其然乎？嘗試言之，古曰詩
頌，皆被之金竹，故非調五音，無以諧會。若「置酒高堂上」、「明月照
高樓」，為韻之首。故三祖之詞，文或不工，而韻入歌唱，此重音韻之義
也，與世之言宮商異矣。今既不被管絃，亦何取於聲律邪？齊有王元長者
，嘗謂余云：「宮商與二儀俱生，自古詞人不知之。唯顏憲子乃云『律呂
音調』，而其實大謬。唯見范曄、謝莊頗識之耳。嘗欲進〈知音論〉，未
就。」王元長創其首謝、沈約揚其波。三賢或貴公子孫，幼有文辯，於是
士流景慕，務為精密。襞積細微，專相凌架。故使文多拘忌，傷其真美。
余謂文製本須諷讀，不可蹇礙，但令清濁通流，口吻調利，斯為足矣。至
平上去入，則余病未能；蜂腰、鶴膝，閭里已具。陳思贈弟，仲宣〈七哀
〉，公幹思友，阮籍〈詠懷〉，子卿「雙鳧」，叔夜「雙鸞」，茂先寒夕
，平叔衣單，安仁倦暑，景陽苦雨，靈運〈鄴中〉，士衡〈擬古〉，越石
感亂，景純詠仙，王微風月，謝客山泉，叔源離宴，鮑照戍邊，太沖〈詠
史 〉，顏延入洛，陶公詠貧之製，惠連〈擣衣〉之作，斯皆五言之警策
者也。所以謂篇章之珠澤，文彩之鄧林。
詩品．卷上
古詩
其體源出於《 國風》。陸機所擬十四首，文溫以麗，意悲而遠，驚心動
魄，可謂幾乎一字千金！其外「去者日以疏」四十五首，雖多哀怨，頗為
總雜。舊疑是建安中曹､王所製。「客從遠方來」、「橘柚垂華實」，亦
為驚絕矣！人代冥滅，而清音獨遠，悲夫！
漢都尉李陵
其源出於《 楚辭 》。文多悽愴，怨者之流。陵，名家子，有殊才，生命
不諧，聲頹身喪。使陵不遭辛苦，其文亦何能至此！
漢婕妤班姬
其源出於李陵。〈團扇〉短章，詞旨清捷，怨深文綺，得匹婦之致。侏儒
一節，可以知其工矣！
魏陳思王植
其源出於《國風》。骨氣奇高，詞采華茂，情兼雅怨，體被文質，粲溢今
古，卓爾不群。嗟乎！陳思之於文章也，譬人倫之有周、孔，鱗羽之有龍
鳳，音樂之有琴笙，女工之有黼黻。俾爾懷鉛吮墨者，抱篇章而景慕，映
餘暉以自燭。故孔氏之門如用詩，則公幹升堂，思王入室，景陽、潘、陸
，自可坐於廊廡之間矣。
魏文學劉楨
其源出於《古詩》。仗氣愛奇，動多振絕。真骨凌霜，高風跨俗。但氣過
其文，雕潤恨少。然自陳思已下，楨稱獨步。
魏侍中王粲
其源出於李陵。發愀愴之詞，文秀而質羸。在曹、劉間，別構一體。方陳
思不足，比魏文有餘。
晉步兵阮籍
其源出於《小雅》。無雕蟲之功。而〈詠懷〉之作，可以陶性靈，發幽思
。言在耳目之內，情寄八荒之表。洋洋乎會於《風》、《雅》，使人忘其
鄙近，自致遠大，頗多感慨之詞。厥旨淵放，歸趣難求。顏延年注解，怯
言其志。
晉平原相陸機
其源出於陳思。才高詞贍，舉體華美。氣少於公幹，文劣於仲宣。尚規矩
，不貴綺錯，有傷直致之奇。然其咀嚼英華，厭飫膏澤，文章之淵泉也。
張公歎其大才，信矣！
晉黃門郎潘岳
其源出於仲宣。《翰林》嘆其翩翩然如翔禽之有羽毛，衣服之有綃縠，猶
淺於陸機。謝混云：「潘詩爛若舒錦，無處不佳，陸文如披沙簡金，往往
見寶。」嶸謂益壽輕華，故以潘為勝；《翰林》篤論，故歎陸為深。余常
言陸才如海，潘才如江。
晉黃門郎張協
其源出於王粲。文體華淨， 少病累。又巧構形似之言，雄於潘岳，靡於
太仲。風流調達，實曠代之高手。調采蔥菁，音韻鏗鏘，使人味之亹亹不
倦。
晉記室左思
其源出於公幹。文典以怨，頗為精切，得諷諭之致。雖野於陸機，而深於
潘岳。謝康樂嘗言：「左太沖詩，潘安仁詩，古今難比。」
宋臨川太守謝靈運
其源出於陳思 ， 雜有景陽之體。故尚巧似，而逸蕩過之，頗以繁蕪為累
。嶸謂若人興多才高，寓目輒書，內無乏思，外無遺物，其繁富宜哉！然
名章迥句，處處間起；麗典新聲，絡繹奔會。 譬猶青松之拔灌木，白玉
之映塵沙，未足貶其高潔也。初，錢塘杜明師夜夢東南有人來入其館，是
夕，即靈運生於會稽。旬日，而謝玄亡。其家以子孫難得，送靈運於杜治
養之。十五方還都，故名「客兒」。
詩品．卷中
漢上計秦嘉嘉妻徐淑
夫妻事既可傷，文亦悽怨。為五言者，不過數家，而婦人居二。徐淑敘別
之作，亞於〈團扇〉矣。
魏文帝
其源出於李陵，頗有仲宣之體。則所計百許篇，率皆鄙質如偶語。惟「西
北有浮雲」十餘首，殊美贍可玩，始見其工矣。不然，何以銓衡群彥，對
揚厥弟者邪？
晉中散嵇康
頗似魏文。過為峻切，訐直露才，傷淵雅之致。然託喻清遠，良有鑒裁，
亦未失高流矣。
晉司空張華
其源出於王粲。其體華艷，興託不奇，巧用文字，務為妍冶。雖名高曩代
，而疏亮之士，猶恨其兒女情多，風雲氣少。謝康樂云：「張公雖復千篇
，猶一體耳。」今置之中品疑弱，處之下科恨少，在季、孟之間矣。
魏尚書何晏晉馮翊守孫楚 晉著作王讚 晉司徒掾張翰 晉中書令潘尼
平叔鴻鵠之篇，風規見矣。子荊零雨之外，正長朔風之後，雖有累札，良
亦無聞。季鷹黃華之唱，正叔綠之章，雖不具美，而文彩高麗，並得虯龍
片甲，鳳凰一毛。事同駁聖，宜居中品。
魏侍中應璩
祖襲魏文。善為古語，指事殷勤，雅意深篤，得詩人激刺之旨。至於「濟
濟今日所」，華靡可諷味焉。
晉清河守陸雲晉侍中石崇 晉襄城太守曹攄 晉朗陵公何劭
清河之方平原，殆如陳思之匹白馬。於其哲昆，故稱二陸。季倫、顏遠，
並有英篇。篤而論之，朗陵為最。
晉太尉劉琨晉中郎盧諶
其源出於王粲。善為悽戾之詞，自有清拔之氣。琨既體良才，又罹厄運，
故善敘喪亂，多感恨之詞。中郎仰之，微不逮者矣。
晉弘農太守郭璞
憲章潘岳，文體相輝，彪炳可玩。始變永嘉平淡之體，故稱中興第一。《
翰林》以為詩首。但〈遊仙〉之作，詞多慷慨，乖遠玄宗。而云：「柰何
虎豹姿。」又云：「戢翼棲榛梗。」乃是坎壈詠懷，非列仙之趣也。
晉吏部郎袁宏
彥伯〈詠史〉，雖文體未遒，而鮮明緊健，去凡俗遠矣。
晉處士郭泰機晉常侍顧愷之 宋謝世基 宋參軍顧邁 宋參軍戴凱
泰機寒女之製，孤怨宜恨。長康能以二韻答四首之美。世基橫海，顧邁鴻
飛。戴凱人實貧羸，而才章富健。觀此五子，文雖不多，氣調警拔，吾許
其進，則鮑照、江淹未足逮止。越居中品，僉曰宜哉。
宋徵士陶潛
其源出於應璩，又協左思風力。文體省淨，殆無長語。篤意真古，辭興婉
愜。每觀其文，想其人德。世歎其質直。至如「懽言醉春酒」、「日暮天
無雲」，風華清靡，豈直為田家語邪？古今隱逸詩人之宗也。
宋光祿大夫顏延之
其源出於陸機。尚巧似。體裁綺密，情喻淵深，動無虛散，一句一字，皆
致意焉。又喜用古事，彌見拘束，雖乖秀逸，是經綸文雅才。雅才減若人
，則蹈於困躓矣。湯惠休曰：「 謝詩如芙蓉出水，顏如錯彩鏤金。」顏
終身病之。
宋豫章太守謝瞻宋僕射謝混 宋太尉袁淑 宋徵君王微 宋征虜將軍王僧達
其源出於張華。才力苦弱，故務其清淺，殊得風流媚趣。課其實錄，則豫
章僕射，宜分庭抗禮。徵君、太尉，可託乘後車。征虜卓卓，殆欲度驊騮
前。
宋法曹參軍謝惠連
小謝才思富捷，恨其蘭玉夙凋，故長轡未騁。〈秋懷〉、〈擣衣〉之作，
雖復靈運銳思，亦何以加焉。又工為綺麗歌謠，風人第一。《謝氏家錄
》云：「康樂每對惠連，輒得佳語。後在永嘉西堂，思詩竟日不就。寤寐
間忽見惠連，即成『池塘生春草』。故嘗云：『此語有神助，非吾語也。
』」
宋參軍鮑照
其源出於二張，善製形狀寫物之詞，得景陽之諔詭，含茂先之靡嫚。骨節
強於謝混，驅邁疾於顏延。總四家而擅美，跨兩代而孤出。嗟其才秀人微
，故取湮當代。然貴尚巧似，不避危仄，頗傷清雅之調。故言險俗者，多
以附照。
齊吏部謝朓
其源出於謝混，微傷細密，頗在不倫。一章之中，自有玉石，然奇章秀句
，往往警遒，足使叔源失步，明遠變色。善自發詩端，而末篇多躓，此意
銳而才弱也，至為後進士子之所嗟慕。朓極與余論詩，感激頓挫過其文。
齊光祿江淹
文通詩體總雜，善於摹擬，筋力於王微，成就於謝朓。初，淹罷宣城郡，
遂宿冶亭，夢一美丈夫，自稱郭璞，謂淹曰：「我有筆在卿處多年矣，可
以見還。」淹探懷中，得五色筆以授之。爾後為詩，不復成語，故世傳江
淹才盡。
梁衛將軍范雲梁中書郎邱遲
范詩清便宛轉，如流風迴雪。邱詩點綴映媚，似落花依草。故當淺於江淹
，而秀於任昉。
梁太常任昉
彥昇少年為詩不工，故世稱沈詩任筆，昉深恨之。晚節愛好既篤，文亦遒
變。善銓事理，拓體淵雅，得國士之風，故擢居中品。但昉既博物，動輒
用事，所以詩不得奇。少年士子，效其如此，弊矣。
梁左光祿沈約
觀休文眾製，五言最優。詳其文體，察其餘論，固知憲章鮑明遠也。所以
不閑於經綸，而長於清怨。永明相王愛文，王元長等皆宗附之。約於時謝
朓未遒，江淹才盡，范雲名級故微，故約稱獨步。雖文不至其工麗，亦一
時之選也。見重閭里，誦詠成音。嶸謂約所著既多，今翦除淫雜，收其精
要，允為中品之第矣。故當詞密於范，意淺於江也。
詩品．卷下
漢令史班固漢孝廉酈炎 漢上計趙壹
孟堅才流，而老於掌故。觀其〈詠史〉，有感歎之詞。文勝託詠靈芝，懷
寄不淺。元叔散憤蘭蕙，指斥囊錢。苦言切句，良亦勤矣。斯人也，而有
斯困，悲夫！
魏武帝魏明帝
曹公古直，甚有悲涼之句。叡不如丕，亦稱三祖。
魏白馬王彪魏文學徐幹
白馬與陳思答贈，偉長與公幹往復，雖曰「以莛叩鐘」，亦能閑雅矣。
魏倉曹屬阮瑀晉頓邱太守歐陽建 晉文學應璩 晉中書令嵇含 晉河南太守
阮侃 晉侍中 嵇紹晉黃門棗據
元瑜、堅石七君詩，並平典，不失古體。大檢似，而二嵇微優矣。
晉中書張載晉司隸傅玄 晉太僕傅咸 晉侍中繆襲 晉散騎常侍夏侯湛
孟陽詩， 乃遠慚厥弟，而近超兩傅。 長、虞父子，繁富可嘉。孝沖雖曰
後進，見重安仁。 熙伯〈挽歌〉，唯以造哀爾。
晉驃騎王濟晉征南將軍杜預 晉廷尉孫綽 晉徵士許詢
永嘉以來，清虛在俗。王武子輩詩，貴道家之言。爰洎江表，玄風尚備。
真長、仲祖、桓、庾諸公猶相襲。世稱孫、許，彌善恬淡之詞。
晉徵士戴逵晉東陽太守殷仲文
安道詩雖嫩弱，有清上之句，裁長補短，袁彥伯之亞乎？逵子顒，亦有一
時之譽。晉、宋之際，殆無詩乎！義熙中，以謝益壽、殷仲文為華綺之冠
，殷不競矣。
宋尚書令傅亮
季友文，余常忽而不察。今沈特進撰詩，載其數首，亦復平美。
宋記室何長瑜羊曜璠 宋詹事范曄
才難，信矣！以康樂與羊、何若此，而□令辭，殆不足奇。乃不稱其才，
亦為鮮舉矣。
宋孝武帝宋南平王鑠 宋建平王宏
孝武詩，雕文織綵，過為精密，為二藩希慕，見稱輕巧矣。
宋光祿謝莊
希逸詩，氣候清雅，不逮於范、袁。然興屬閒長，良無鄙促也。
宋御史蘇寶生宋中書令史陵修之 宋典祠令任曇緒 宋越騎戴興
蘇、陵、任、戴，並著篇章，亦為搢紳之所嗟詠。人非文才是愈，甚可嘉
焉。
宋監典事區惠恭
惠恭本胡人 ， 為顏師伯幹。顏為詩筆，輒偷定之。後造〈獨樂賦〉，語
侵給主，被斥。及大將軍修北第，差充作長。時謝惠連兼記室參軍，惠恭
時往共安陵嘲調。末作〈雙枕詩〉以示謝。謝曰：「君誠能，恐人未重。
且可以為謝法曹造。」遺大將軍。見之賞歎，以錦二端賜謝。謝辭曰：「
此詩，公作長所製，請以錦賜之。」
齊惠休上人齊道猷上人 齊釋寶月
惠休淫靡，情過其才。世遂匹之鮑照，恐商、周矣。羊曜璠云 ： 「 是
顏公忌照之文，故立休、鮑之論。」庾、帛二胡，亦有清句。〈行路難〉
是東陽柴廓所造。寶月嘗憩其家，會廓亡，因竊而有之。廓子賚手本出都
，欲訟此事，乃厚賂止之。
齊高帝齊征北將軍張永 齊太尉王文憲
齊高帝詩，詞藻意深，無所云少。張景雲雖謝文體，頗有古意。至如王師
文憲，既經國圖遠，或忽是雕蟲。
齊黃門謝超宗齊潯陽太守丘靈鞠 齊給事中郎劉祥 齊司徒長史檀超 齊正
員郎鍾憲 齊諸暨令顏則齊秀才顧則心
檀､謝七君，並祖襲顏延，欣欣不倦，得士大夫之雅致乎！余從祖正員嘗
云：「大明、泰始中，鮑、休美文，殊已動俗，惟此諸人，傅顏､陸體。
用固執不移，顏諸暨最荷家聲。」
齊參軍毛伯成齊朝請吳邁遠 齊朝請許瑤之
伯成文不全佳，亦多惆悵。吳善於風人答贈。許長於短句詠物。湯休謂遠
云：「我詩可為汝詩父。」以訪謝光祿，云：「不然爾，湯可為庶兄。」
齊鮑令暉齊韓蘭英
令暉歌詩，往往斷絕清巧，擬古尤勝，唯百願淫矣。照嘗答孝武云：「臣
妹才自亞於左芬，臣才不及太沖爾。」蘭英綺密，甚有名篇。又善談笑，
齊武謂韓云：「借使二媛生於上葉，則玉階之賦，紈素之辭，未詎多也。
」
齊司徒長史張融齊詹事孔稚珪
思光紆緩誕放，縱有乖文體，然亦捷疾豐饒，差不局促。德璋生於封谿，
而文為雕飾，青於藍矣。
齊寧朔將軍王融齊中庶子劉繪
元長、士章，並有盛才。詞美英淨，至於五言之作，幾乎尺有所短。譬應
變將略，非武侯所長，未足以貶臥龍。
齊僕射江祏
詩猗猗清潤，弟祀明靡可懷。
齊記室王巾齊綏遠太守卞彬 齊端溪令卞錄
王巾、二卞詩，並愛奇嶄絕。慕袁彥伯之風。雖不宏綽，而文體勦淨，去
平美遠矣。
齊諸暨令袁嘏
嘏詩平平耳，多自謂能。嘗語徐太尉云：「我詩有生氣，須人捉著。不爾
，便飛去。」
齊雍州刺史張欣泰梁中書郎范縝
欣泰、子真，並希古勝文，鄙薄俗製，賞心流亮，不失雅宗。
梁秀才陸厥
觀厥文緯，具識丈夫之情狀。自製未優，非言之失也。
梁常侍虞羲梁建陽令江洪
子陽詩奇句清拔，謝朓常嗟頌之。洪雖無多，亦能自迥出。
梁步兵鮑行卿梁晉陵令孫察
詩品
Produced by Ni-Yen Wu
詩品
氣之動物，物之感人，故搖蕩性情，行諸舞詠。照燭三才，暉麗萬有，靈
衹待之以致饗，幽微藉之以昭告，動天地，感鬼神，莫近於詩。昔〈南風
〉之詞，〈卿雲〉之頌，厥義敻矣。夏歌曰：「鬱陶乎予心。」楚謠曰：
「名予曰正則。」雖詩體未全，然是五言之濫觴也。逮漢李陵，始著五言
之目矣。古詩眇邈，人世難詳，推其文體，固是炎漢之製，非衰周之倡也
。自王、揚、枚、馬之徒，詞賦競爽，而吟詠靡聞。從李都尉迄班婕妤，
將百年間，有婦人焉，一人而已。詩人之風，頓已缺喪。東京二百載中，
惟有班固〈詠史〉，質木無文。降及建安，曹公父子篤好斯文，平原兄弟
鬱為文棟，劉楨、王粲為其羽翼。次有攀龍托鳳，自致於屬車者，蓋將百
計。彬彬之盛，大備於時矣。爾後陵遲衰微，迄於有晉。太康中，三張、
二陸、兩潘、一左，勃爾復興，踵武前王，風流未沫，亦文章之中興也。
永嘉時，貴黃、老，稍尚虛談。於時篇什，理過其辭，淡乎寡味。爰及江
表，微波尚傳，孫綽、許詢、桓、庾諸公詩，皆平典似《道德論》，建安
風力盡矣。先是郭景純用雋上之才，變創其體。劉越石仗清剛之氣，贊成
厥美。然彼眾我寡，未能動俗。逮義熙中，謝益壽斐然繼作。元嘉中，有
謝靈運，才高詞盛，富豔難蹤，固已含跨劉、郭，陵轢潘、左。故知陳思
為建安之傑，公幹、仲宣為輔。陸機為太康之英，安仁、景陽為輔。謝客
為元嘉之雄，顏延年為輔。斯皆五言之冠冕，文詞之命世也。夫四言，文
約意廣，取效《風》、《騷》，便可多得。每苦文繁而意少，故世罕習焉
。五言居文詞之要，是眾作之有滋味者也，故云會於流俗。豈不以指事造
形，窮情寫物，最為詳切者耶？故詩有三義焉：一曰興，二曰比，三曰賦
。文已盡而意有餘，興也；因物喻志，比也；直書其事，寓言寫物，賦也
。宏斯三義，酌而用之，幹之以風力，潤之以丹彩，使味之者無極，聞之
者動心，是詩之至也。若專用比興，患在意深，意深則詞躓。若但用賦體
，患在意浮，意浮則文散，嬉成流移，文無止泊，有蕪漫之累矣。若乃春
風春鳥，秋月秋蟬，夏雲暑雨，冬月祁寒，斯四候之感諸詩者也。嘉會寄
詩以親，離群託詩以怨。至於楚臣去境，漢妾辭宮；或骨橫朔野，或魂逐
飛蓬；或負戈外戍，殺氣雄邊；塞客衣單，孀閨淚盡；或士有解佩出朝，
一去忘返；女有揚蛾入寵，再盼傾國。凡斯種種，感蕩心靈，非陳詩何以
展其義；非長歌何以騁其情？故曰：「《詩》可以群，可以怨。」使窮賤
易安，幽居靡悶，莫尚於詩矣。故詞人作者，罔不愛好。今之士俗，斯風
熾矣。纔能勝衣，甫就小學，必甘心而馳騖焉。於是庸音雜體，人各為容
。至使膏腴子弟，恥文不逮，終朝點綴，分夜呻吟。獨觀謂為警策，眾睹
終淪平鈍。次有輕薄之徒，笑曹、劉為古拙，謂鮑照羲皇上人，謝朓今古
獨步。而師鮑照終不及「日中市朝滿」，學謝朓劣得「黃鳥度青枝」。徒
自棄於高明，無涉於文流矣。觀王公縉紳之士，每博論之餘，何嘗不以詩
為口實。隨其嗜欲，商搉不同，淄、澠並泛，朱紫相奪，喧議競起，準的
無依。近彭城劉士章，俊賞之士，疾其淆亂，欲為當世詩品，口陳標榜。
其文未遂感而作焉。昔九品論人，《七略》裁士，校以貴實，誠多未值。
至若詩之為技，較爾可知。以類推之，殆均博弈。方今皇帝，資生知之上
才，體沈鬱之幽思，文麗日月，賞究天人。昔在貴游，已為稱首。況八紘
既奄風靡雲蒸，抱玉者聯肩，握珠者踵武。以瞰漢、魏而不顧，吞晉、宋
於胸中。諒非農歌轅議，敢致流別。嶸之今錄，庶周旋於閭里，均之於談
笑耳。
一品之中，略以世代為先後，不以優劣為詮次。又其人既往，其文克定。
今所寓言，不錄存者。夫屬詞比事，乃為通談。若乃經國文符，應資博古
，撰德駁奏。宜窮往烈。至乎吟詠情性，亦何貴於用事？「思君如流水」
，既是即目。「高臺多悲風」，亦惟所見。「清晨登隴首」，羌無故實。
「明月照積雪」，詎出經史。觀古今勝語，多非補假，皆由直尋。顏延、
謝莊，尤為繁密，於時化之。故大明、泰始中，文章殆同書抄近任昉、王
元長等，詞不貴奇，競須新事，爾來作者，寖以成俗。遂乃句無虛語，語
無虛字，拘攣補衲，蠹文已甚。但自然英旨，罕值其人。詞既失高，則宜
加事義。雖謝天才，且表學問，亦一理乎！陸機 〈文賦〉通而無貶；李
充《翰林》，疏而不切；王微《鴻寶》，密而無裁；顏延論文，精而難曉
；摯虞《文志》詳而博贍，頗曰知言：觀斯數家，皆就談文體，而不顯優
劣。至於謝客集詩，逢詩輒取；張騭《文士》，逢文即書：諸英志錄，並
義在文，曾無品第。嶸今所錄，止乎五言。雖然，網羅今古，詞文殆集。
輕欲辨彰清濁，掎摭病利，凡百二十人。預此宗流者，便稱才子。至斯三
品升降，差非定制，方申變裁，請寄知者爾。
昔曹、劉殆文章之聖，陸、謝為體貳之才，銳精研思，千百年中，而不聞
宮商之辨，四聲之論。或謂前達偶然不見，豈其然乎？嘗試言之，古曰詩
頌，皆被之金竹，故非調五音，無以諧會。若「置酒高堂上」、「明月照
高樓」，為韻之首。故三祖之詞，文或不工，而韻入歌唱，此重音韻之義
也，與世之言宮商異矣。今既不被管絃，亦何取於聲律邪？齊有王元長者
，嘗謂余云：「宮商與二儀俱生，自古詞人不知之。唯顏憲子乃云『律呂
音調』，而其實大謬。唯見范曄、謝莊頗識之耳。嘗欲進〈知音論〉，未
就。」王元長創其首謝、沈約揚其波。三賢或貴公子孫，幼有文辯，於是
士流景慕，務為精密。襞積細微，專相凌架。故使文多拘忌，傷其真美。
余謂文製本須諷讀，不可蹇礙，但令清濁通流，口吻調利，斯為足矣。至
平上去入，則余病未能；蜂腰、鶴膝，閭里已具。陳思贈弟，仲宣〈七哀
〉，公幹思友，阮籍〈詠懷〉，子卿「雙鳧」，叔夜「雙鸞」，茂先寒夕
，平叔衣單，安仁倦暑，景陽苦雨，靈運〈鄴中〉，士衡〈擬古〉，越石
感亂，景純詠仙，王微風月，謝客山泉，叔源離宴，鮑照戍邊，太沖〈詠
史 〉，顏延入洛，陶公詠貧之製，惠連〈擣衣〉之作，斯皆五言之警策
者也。所以謂篇章之珠澤，文彩之鄧林。
詩品．卷上
古詩
其體源出於《 國風》。陸機所擬十四首，文溫以麗，意悲而遠，驚心動
魄，可謂幾乎一字千金！其外「去者日以疏」四十五首，雖多哀怨，頗為
總雜。舊疑是建安中曹､王所製。「客從遠方來」、「橘柚垂華實」，亦
為驚絕矣！人代冥滅，而清音獨遠，悲夫！
漢都尉李陵
其源出於《 楚辭 》。文多悽愴，怨者之流。陵，名家子，有殊才，生命
不諧，聲頹身喪。使陵不遭辛苦，其文亦何能至此！
漢婕妤班姬
其源出於李陵。〈團扇〉短章，詞旨清捷，怨深文綺，得匹婦之致。侏儒
一節，可以知其工矣！
魏陳思王植
其源出於《國風》。骨氣奇高，詞采華茂，情兼雅怨，體被文質，粲溢今
古，卓爾不群。嗟乎！陳思之於文章也，譬人倫之有周、孔，鱗羽之有龍
鳳，音樂之有琴笙，女工之有黼黻。俾爾懷鉛吮墨者，抱篇章而景慕，映
餘暉以自燭。故孔氏之門如用詩，則公幹升堂，思王入室，景陽、潘、陸
，自可坐於廊廡之間矣。
魏文學劉楨
其源出於《古詩》。仗氣愛奇，動多振絕。真骨凌霜，高風跨俗。但氣過
其文，雕潤恨少。然自陳思已下，楨稱獨步。
魏侍中王粲
其源出於李陵。發愀愴之詞，文秀而質羸。在曹、劉間，別構一體。方陳
思不足，比魏文有餘。
晉步兵阮籍
其源出於《小雅》。無雕蟲之功。而〈詠懷〉之作，可以陶性靈，發幽思
。言在耳目之內，情寄八荒之表。洋洋乎會於《風》、《雅》，使人忘其
鄙近，自致遠大，頗多感慨之詞。厥旨淵放，歸趣難求。顏延年注解，怯
言其志。
晉平原相陸機
其源出於陳思。才高詞贍，舉體華美。氣少於公幹，文劣於仲宣。尚規矩
，不貴綺錯，有傷直致之奇。然其咀嚼英華，厭飫膏澤，文章之淵泉也。
張公歎其大才，信矣！
晉黃門郎潘岳
其源出於仲宣。《翰林》嘆其翩翩然如翔禽之有羽毛，衣服之有綃縠，猶
淺於陸機。謝混云：「潘詩爛若舒錦，無處不佳，陸文如披沙簡金，往往
見寶。」嶸謂益壽輕華，故以潘為勝；《翰林》篤論，故歎陸為深。余常
言陸才如海，潘才如江。
晉黃門郎張協
其源出於王粲。文體華淨， 少病累。又巧構形似之言，雄於潘岳，靡於
太仲。風流調達，實曠代之高手。調采蔥菁，音韻鏗鏘，使人味之亹亹不
倦。
晉記室左思
其源出於公幹。文典以怨，頗為精切，得諷諭之致。雖野於陸機，而深於
潘岳。謝康樂嘗言：「左太沖詩，潘安仁詩，古今難比。」
宋臨川太守謝靈運
其源出於陳思 ， 雜有景陽之體。故尚巧似，而逸蕩過之，頗以繁蕪為累
。嶸謂若人興多才高，寓目輒書，內無乏思，外無遺物，其繁富宜哉！然
名章迥句，處處間起；麗典新聲，絡繹奔會。 譬猶青松之拔灌木，白玉
之映塵沙，未足貶其高潔也。初，錢塘杜明師夜夢東南有人來入其館，是
夕，即靈運生於會稽。旬日，而謝玄亡。其家以子孫難得，送靈運於杜治
養之。十五方還都，故名「客兒」。
詩品．卷中
漢上計秦嘉嘉妻徐淑
夫妻事既可傷，文亦悽怨。為五言者，不過數家，而婦人居二。徐淑敘別
之作，亞於〈團扇〉矣。
魏文帝
其源出於李陵，頗有仲宣之體。則所計百許篇，率皆鄙質如偶語。惟「西
北有浮雲」十餘首，殊美贍可玩，始見其工矣。不然，何以銓衡群彥，對
揚厥弟者邪？
晉中散嵇康
頗似魏文。過為峻切，訐直露才，傷淵雅之致。然託喻清遠，良有鑒裁，
亦未失高流矣。
晉司空張華
其源出於王粲。其體華艷，興託不奇，巧用文字，務為妍冶。雖名高曩代
，而疏亮之士，猶恨其兒女情多，風雲氣少。謝康樂云：「張公雖復千篇
，猶一體耳。」今置之中品疑弱，處之下科恨少，在季、孟之間矣。
魏尚書何晏晉馮翊守孫楚 晉著作王讚 晉司徒掾張翰 晉中書令潘尼
平叔鴻鵠之篇，風規見矣。子荊零雨之外，正長朔風之後，雖有累札，良
亦無聞。季鷹黃華之唱，正叔綠之章，雖不具美，而文彩高麗，並得虯龍
片甲，鳳凰一毛。事同駁聖，宜居中品。
魏侍中應璩
祖襲魏文。善為古語，指事殷勤，雅意深篤，得詩人激刺之旨。至於「濟
濟今日所」，華靡可諷味焉。
晉清河守陸雲晉侍中石崇 晉襄城太守曹攄 晉朗陵公何劭
清河之方平原，殆如陳思之匹白馬。於其哲昆，故稱二陸。季倫、顏遠，
並有英篇。篤而論之，朗陵為最。
晉太尉劉琨晉中郎盧諶
其源出於王粲。善為悽戾之詞，自有清拔之氣。琨既體良才，又罹厄運，
故善敘喪亂，多感恨之詞。中郎仰之，微不逮者矣。
晉弘農太守郭璞
憲章潘岳，文體相輝，彪炳可玩。始變永嘉平淡之體，故稱中興第一。《
翰林》以為詩首。但〈遊仙〉之作，詞多慷慨，乖遠玄宗。而云：「柰何
虎豹姿。」又云：「戢翼棲榛梗。」乃是坎壈詠懷，非列仙之趣也。
晉吏部郎袁宏
彥伯〈詠史〉，雖文體未遒，而鮮明緊健，去凡俗遠矣。
晉處士郭泰機晉常侍顧愷之 宋謝世基 宋參軍顧邁 宋參軍戴凱
泰機寒女之製，孤怨宜恨。長康能以二韻答四首之美。世基橫海，顧邁鴻
飛。戴凱人實貧羸，而才章富健。觀此五子，文雖不多，氣調警拔，吾許
其進，則鮑照、江淹未足逮止。越居中品，僉曰宜哉。
宋徵士陶潛
其源出於應璩，又協左思風力。文體省淨，殆無長語。篤意真古，辭興婉
愜。每觀其文，想其人德。世歎其質直。至如「懽言醉春酒」、「日暮天
無雲」，風華清靡，豈直為田家語邪？古今隱逸詩人之宗也。
宋光祿大夫顏延之
其源出於陸機。尚巧似。體裁綺密，情喻淵深，動無虛散，一句一字，皆
致意焉。又喜用古事，彌見拘束，雖乖秀逸，是經綸文雅才。雅才減若人
，則蹈於困躓矣。湯惠休曰：「 謝詩如芙蓉出水，顏如錯彩鏤金。」顏
終身病之。
宋豫章太守謝瞻宋僕射謝混 宋太尉袁淑 宋徵君王微 宋征虜將軍王僧達
其源出於張華。才力苦弱，故務其清淺，殊得風流媚趣。課其實錄，則豫
章僕射，宜分庭抗禮。徵君、太尉，可託乘後車。征虜卓卓，殆欲度驊騮
前。
宋法曹參軍謝惠連
小謝才思富捷，恨其蘭玉夙凋，故長轡未騁。〈秋懷〉、〈擣衣〉之作，
雖復靈運銳思，亦何以加焉。又工為綺麗歌謠，風人第一。《謝氏家錄
》云：「康樂每對惠連，輒得佳語。後在永嘉西堂，思詩竟日不就。寤寐
間忽見惠連，即成『池塘生春草』。故嘗云：『此語有神助，非吾語也。
』」
宋參軍鮑照
其源出於二張，善製形狀寫物之詞，得景陽之諔詭，含茂先之靡嫚。骨節
強於謝混，驅邁疾於顏延。總四家而擅美，跨兩代而孤出。嗟其才秀人微
，故取湮當代。然貴尚巧似，不避危仄，頗傷清雅之調。故言險俗者，多
以附照。
齊吏部謝朓
其源出於謝混，微傷細密，頗在不倫。一章之中，自有玉石，然奇章秀句
，往往警遒，足使叔源失步，明遠變色。善自發詩端，而末篇多躓，此意
銳而才弱也，至為後進士子之所嗟慕。朓極與余論詩，感激頓挫過其文。
齊光祿江淹
文通詩體總雜，善於摹擬，筋力於王微，成就於謝朓。初，淹罷宣城郡，
遂宿冶亭，夢一美丈夫，自稱郭璞，謂淹曰：「我有筆在卿處多年矣，可
以見還。」淹探懷中，得五色筆以授之。爾後為詩，不復成語，故世傳江
淹才盡。
梁衛將軍范雲梁中書郎邱遲
范詩清便宛轉，如流風迴雪。邱詩點綴映媚，似落花依草。故當淺於江淹
，而秀於任昉。
梁太常任昉
彥昇少年為詩不工，故世稱沈詩任筆，昉深恨之。晚節愛好既篤，文亦遒
變。善銓事理，拓體淵雅，得國士之風，故擢居中品。但昉既博物，動輒
用事，所以詩不得奇。少年士子，效其如此，弊矣。
梁左光祿沈約
觀休文眾製，五言最優。詳其文體，察其餘論，固知憲章鮑明遠也。所以
不閑於經綸，而長於清怨。永明相王愛文，王元長等皆宗附之。約於時謝
朓未遒，江淹才盡，范雲名級故微，故約稱獨步。雖文不至其工麗，亦一
時之選也。見重閭里，誦詠成音。嶸謂約所著既多，今翦除淫雜，收其精
要，允為中品之第矣。故當詞密於范，意淺於江也。
詩品．卷下
漢令史班固漢孝廉酈炎 漢上計趙壹
孟堅才流，而老於掌故。觀其〈詠史〉，有感歎之詞。文勝託詠靈芝，懷
寄不淺。元叔散憤蘭蕙，指斥囊錢。苦言切句，良亦勤矣。斯人也，而有
斯困，悲夫！
魏武帝魏明帝
曹公古直，甚有悲涼之句。叡不如丕，亦稱三祖。
魏白馬王彪魏文學徐幹
白馬與陳思答贈，偉長與公幹往復，雖曰「以莛叩鐘」，亦能閑雅矣。
魏倉曹屬阮瑀晉頓邱太守歐陽建 晉文學應璩 晉中書令嵇含 晉河南太守
阮侃 晉侍中 嵇紹晉黃門棗據
元瑜、堅石七君詩，並平典，不失古體。大檢似，而二嵇微優矣。
晉中書張載晉司隸傅玄 晉太僕傅咸 晉侍中繆襲 晉散騎常侍夏侯湛
孟陽詩， 乃遠慚厥弟，而近超兩傅。 長、虞父子，繁富可嘉。孝沖雖曰
後進，見重安仁。 熙伯〈挽歌〉，唯以造哀爾。
晉驃騎王濟晉征南將軍杜預 晉廷尉孫綽 晉徵士許詢
永嘉以來，清虛在俗。王武子輩詩，貴道家之言。爰洎江表，玄風尚備。
真長、仲祖、桓、庾諸公猶相襲。世稱孫、許，彌善恬淡之詞。
晉徵士戴逵晉東陽太守殷仲文
安道詩雖嫩弱，有清上之句，裁長補短，袁彥伯之亞乎？逵子顒，亦有一
時之譽。晉、宋之際，殆無詩乎！義熙中，以謝益壽、殷仲文為華綺之冠
，殷不競矣。
宋尚書令傅亮
季友文，余常忽而不察。今沈特進撰詩，載其數首，亦復平美。
宋記室何長瑜羊曜璠 宋詹事范曄
才難，信矣！以康樂與羊、何若此，而□令辭，殆不足奇。乃不稱其才，
亦為鮮舉矣。
宋孝武帝宋南平王鑠 宋建平王宏
孝武詩，雕文織綵，過為精密，為二藩希慕，見稱輕巧矣。
宋光祿謝莊
希逸詩，氣候清雅，不逮於范、袁。然興屬閒長，良無鄙促也。
宋御史蘇寶生宋中書令史陵修之 宋典祠令任曇緒 宋越騎戴興
蘇、陵、任、戴，並著篇章，亦為搢紳之所嗟詠。人非文才是愈，甚可嘉
焉。
宋監典事區惠恭
惠恭本胡人 ， 為顏師伯幹。顏為詩筆，輒偷定之。後造〈獨樂賦〉，語
侵給主，被斥。及大將軍修北第，差充作長。時謝惠連兼記室參軍，惠恭
時往共安陵嘲調。末作〈雙枕詩〉以示謝。謝曰：「君誠能，恐人未重。
且可以為謝法曹造。」遺大將軍。見之賞歎，以錦二端賜謝。謝辭曰：「
此詩，公作長所製，請以錦賜之。」
齊惠休上人齊道猷上人 齊釋寶月
惠休淫靡，情過其才。世遂匹之鮑照，恐商、周矣。羊曜璠云 ： 「 是
顏公忌照之文，故立休、鮑之論。」庾、帛二胡，亦有清句。〈行路難〉
是東陽柴廓所造。寶月嘗憩其家，會廓亡，因竊而有之。廓子賚手本出都
，欲訟此事，乃厚賂止之。
齊高帝齊征北將軍張永 齊太尉王文憲
齊高帝詩，詞藻意深，無所云少。張景雲雖謝文體，頗有古意。至如王師
文憲，既經國圖遠，或忽是雕蟲。
齊黃門謝超宗齊潯陽太守丘靈鞠 齊給事中郎劉祥 齊司徒長史檀超 齊正
員郎鍾憲 齊諸暨令顏則齊秀才顧則心
檀､謝七君，並祖襲顏延，欣欣不倦，得士大夫之雅致乎！余從祖正員嘗
云：「大明、泰始中，鮑、休美文，殊已動俗，惟此諸人，傅顏､陸體。
用固執不移，顏諸暨最荷家聲。」
齊參軍毛伯成齊朝請吳邁遠 齊朝請許瑤之
伯成文不全佳，亦多惆悵。吳善於風人答贈。許長於短句詠物。湯休謂遠
云：「我詩可為汝詩父。」以訪謝光祿，云：「不然爾，湯可為庶兄。」
齊鮑令暉齊韓蘭英
令暉歌詩，往往斷絕清巧，擬古尤勝，唯百願淫矣。照嘗答孝武云：「臣
妹才自亞於左芬，臣才不及太沖爾。」蘭英綺密，甚有名篇。又善談笑，
齊武謂韓云：「借使二媛生於上葉，則玉階之賦，紈素之辭，未詎多也。
」
齊司徒長史張融齊詹事孔稚珪
思光紆緩誕放，縱有乖文體，然亦捷疾豐饒，差不局促。德璋生於封谿，
而文為雕飾，青於藍矣。
齊寧朔將軍王融齊中庶子劉繪
元長、士章，並有盛才。詞美英淨，至於五言之作，幾乎尺有所短。譬應
變將略，非武侯所長，未足以貶臥龍。
齊僕射江祏
詩猗猗清潤，弟祀明靡可懷。
齊記室王巾齊綏遠太守卞彬 齊端溪令卞錄
王巾、二卞詩，並愛奇嶄絕。慕袁彥伯之風。雖不宏綽，而文體勦淨，去
平美遠矣。
齊諸暨令袁嘏
嘏詩平平耳，多自謂能。嘗語徐太尉云：「我詩有生氣，須人捉著。不爾
，便飛去。」
齊雍州刺史張欣泰梁中書郎范縝
欣泰、子真，並希古勝文，鄙薄俗製，賞心流亮，不失雅宗。
梁秀才陸厥
觀厥文緯，具識丈夫之情狀。自製未優，非言之失也。
梁常侍虞羲梁建陽令江洪
子陽詩奇句清拔，謝朓常嗟頌之。洪雖無多，亦能自迥出。
梁步兵鮑行卿梁晉陵令孫察
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
粉妝樓71-80回
Produced by Yu Wen Lin
Fen Zhuang Lou Chapters 71-80 (Cosmetical Building)
by Luo GuanZhong
The original Chinese:
第七十一回
祁巧云駕云入相府穿山甲戴月出天牢
卻說天子見沈謙帶劍上殿，吃了大惊，說道：“老卿休
得發怒作躁，待寡人明日上城退敵便了。”沈謙大喜道
：“這便才是，老臣領旨回家，候圣駕便了。”隨即出
朝，吩咐整頓軍馬，不表。
且言馬成龍的大隊人馬到了皇城腳下，安營已畢，當晚
同眾將商議道。“今日此來，雖然是要拿沈謙治罪，想
來到底是天子的皇城，不可擅行攻打，倘若沈謙閉門不
出，嚴加防守，又不能攻打，那時節如何是好？”軍師
謝元道：“大人可修成訴告的本章，去見圣上﹔再修一
封戰表送与沈謙，約他出來會戰便了。”馬爺依然，隨
即修成一道本章，又修成戰書一封，和表章扎在一處。
次日五鼓升帳，便問兩旁眾將：“誰人敢去投書？”言
還未了，王氏三雄應道：“我等愿往。”馬爺大喜，隨
即封好了表章戰書，打發三人去了。
王氏三雄領了表章戰書，隨即披挂上馬，出了營門，竟
到城下叫道：“營門的聽著、快快通報，今有戰表在此
，俺們是來下書的！”那守城門的官兒，望城下一看，
見是三個人，隨即幵了城門，放下吊橋，引三人入城。
到了相府，卻好沈謙點齊了三軍，正在那午門外候駕。
當下門官稟過，王氏三雄見了沈謙，也不下跪，呈上書
札，說道：“馬元帥有書在此，叫你親去會他。”沈謙
接將過來，將本章戰書展幵一看，吃了一惊，心中想道
：“若是天子看見此本，豈不將我從前之事盡行訴出來
了？”隨即喝令左右：“快將來人送入天牢囚了！”左
右得令，遂將王氏三雄一齊用繩索綁了，送入大牢監禁
。
王氏兄弟一時無備，又無兵器戰斗，不能脫身，衹是高
聲大罵。眾人將他三人擁入天牢，恰好与龍標監在一處
，彼此會見，暗暗的會話，說道：“如今也無可奈何！
且待兵敗城破，那時俺們先到沈謙家拿他滿門便了。”
按下不表。
且說那乾德天子升殿，點齊了一眾侍衛，調了羽林軍馬
。天子上了逍遙馬，同沈謙的軍馬、一班的文武官員，
离了午門，竟往北門上了城樓。擺齊了龍旗，御仗、鎖
斧、金瓜、護衛、鑾儀、寶座，天子下馬坐下。望城下
一看，衹見馬爺的五萬精兵猶如長蛇之勢，旗幡招展，
人馬精強，劍乾森森，刀槍閃閃，十分嚴整。那乾德天
子同文武見了如此軍容，君臣們一齊惊駭。
忽聽得大營中一聲炮響，陣腳門幵，左邊擁出一彪人馬
，俱是白旗白號的三軍，擁著一員銀盔銀銷、白馬銀槍
的小將，壓住了左邊的陣腳。右邊擁出一彪人馬，俱是
紅旗紅號的三軍，擁著一員金盔金甲、金銅黃馬的小將
，壓住了右邊的陣腳。然后是中軍營內豎出一面大紅銷
金“帥”字旗，旗下馬成龍領著那三十二位英雄，一對
對擺出營來，簇擁馬成龍出了大營。
這邊城上有一員黃門官高聲叫道：“營中聽著！圣上有
旨，宣定國公馬成龍快來城下見駕！”馬爺聽得此言，
抬頭一看，衹見城頭上兩旁擺列著文武，正中黃羅主蓋
之下，端坐著乾德天子，馬爺一見大惊，連忙同眾英雄
縱馬來到吊橋口，一齊滾鞍下馬，俯伏在地，啟奏道：
“罪臣等甲胄在身，不能全禮，望陛下恕臣等慢君之罪
！”天子傳旨：“赦爾等之罪，各賜平身。朕有一言，
爾等靜聽！”馬爺謝恩奏道：“愿聞萬歲圣諭！”天子
說道：“爾眾家國公，乃朕先朝大宗皇帝賜爾眾家世享
富貴，爾等久休洪恩，不思報國，掃滅外荒，今日提兵
至此，意欲何為？非反而何？”馬爺奏道：“臣等世享
榮封，龍恩難報，原思各盡其職，以報皇恩。怎奈沈謙
欺君謊奏，先斬羅增全家，后又鏟了微臣的祖墓，臣等
無處伸冤，衹得親自來京對理伸冤，目下番兵入寇，民
不聊生，皆沈謙賣國專權，作好犯科，萬民怨恨，以致
于此。臣等此來，非敢恣意獲罪，一者為國家除奸去惡
，二者為萬民除害安生，三者為祖宗報仇，也消無辜之
恨，別無他意。”
天子聽了馬爺這一番實情，道：“既然如此，也該拜本
來京啟奏才是，不應勒兵至此。”馬爺奏道：“臣等向
日拜本來京上奏天廷，昨日又有本章差官奏上，陛下怎
說無本。”天子聽了大惊，道：“本從何來。”沈謙在
旁大喝道：“馬成龍，你兩次俱是反表戰書，本從何來
？圣上面前還敢妄奏。”說罷，手起處就是斗爭箭飛來
，直向馬爺的咽喉，馬爺猛然看見。急將頭一低，正中
盔上，不覺勃然大怒，跳起身來大叫：“圣駕請回，待
微臣殺此奸臣！不要惊了陛下的龍体。”說罷，喝令眾
將上馬，執械攻城，
一聲令下，三軍眾將擂鼓搖旗，沖到城下，駕起云梯，
支起炮架，弩箭、火炮、鳥槍，望城上飛來，好不利害
！把個乾德天子嚇得忙忙下了城樓，上了逍遙馬，眾文
武簇擁圍護，回宮去了。這里馬爺率領大小三軍攻打一
日，沈謙魂飛魄散，無法可施，惟有吩咐大小將士，緊
守城池而已。
單言馬爺一時動怒攻打，皇城豈可擅自攻打，獲罪如何
是好，謝元道：“若不攻城，怎生得拿奸賊！必要里應
外合，不用乓火破城才好。”眾將議道：“待我等今夜
爬城而入便了。”馬爺道：“城高河闊，把守得甚是嚴
緊，怎生爬得進去？徒勞無功！”馬爺心中納悶，祁巧
云上前稟道：“大人不要煩惱，今夜可虔誠焚香，求看
天書，傳奴駕云入城便了。”馬爺聞言大喜，遂吩咐眾
將各歸營寨。眾人心下好不疑惑：看此女原有些异處，
一定有些奧妙，明日必見分曉。
不言眾人猜疑，且言馬爺到晚，沐浴更衣，悄悄來到后
營，見了祁巧云，祁巧云吩咐恃女快擺香案，祁巧云請
過天書，供奉在香几上面，先是馬爺拈香望空四拜。拜
畢后，乃是祁巧云拈香禮拜，口中祝告道：“弟子奉令
進城探聽軍情，望求大仙指示，速現天文，明斷吉凶！
”祝后拜了四拜，立起身來，揭幵天書一看，上面現出
一篇良朱字跡，寫得甚是分明：馬爺同祁巧云看時，上
寫道：“沈謙惡貫己滿，气數當絕，當爾祁巧云同白虎
星羅琨建功立業，爾二人本有姻緣之分，速速駕云入城
，面圣陳情，除奸滅寇！速速去訖，不可遲誤。”馬爺
一見大喜道：“既是神圣現出天文，不可遲延，可与羅
琨作速前去。”祁巧云面漲通紅，說道：“待奴家獨自
去罷。”馬爺說道：“你前緣既定，這有何妨？”祁巧
云回道：“孤男獨女，成何雅道？”馬爺說道：“既如
此，俺令小女同去便了。”祁巧云衹得依允。
馬爺遂密喚羅琨入內，吩咐道：“你今夜可同小女金錠
并祁巧云入城面圣，捉拿沈賊報仇。”羅琨得令，帶了
銀銅弓箭，那金錠、巧云披挂齊整，各帶雙劍，步到香
案前。巧云寫了兩道符，与羅琨、金錠各入佩在身上，
一齊辭了馬爺，馬爺說道：“今夜五更炮響為號，本帥
在北門接應。”二人聽令，一齊出了帳篷，站立平地。
羅琨同金錠抓住巧云的絲絛，站在一處，巧云口中念念
有詞，喝聲：“起！”衹見三朵祥云從他三人腳下飄飄
冉冉，不一時早起在空中，羅琨、金錠。祁巧云三人站
立云端，穩如泰山，心中好不歡喜。
當下馬爺見他三人騰空而去，心中大喜，笑道：“大事
已成！”忙忙入帳，傳令眾將盡起，人馬齊到北門等候
，五更炮響，即去搶城，不表。
且言巧云、金錠、羅琨三人商議道：“我們此去，必須
先見圣上奏過了，再去捉拿奸賊沈謙才是道理。衹是空
中行路，不知皇宮在于何處。”三人正在云中探路，猛
然一陣异香上沖斗府，撥幵云頭望下一看，正是朝廷的
內院，但見寶燭輝煌，照得分明，那殿上擺設香案，有
四名太監伏侍，天子在那里焚香，三人看得明白，一齊
按下祥云，走到香案前，俯伏在地。天子見空中降下三
個人來，跪在地下，吃了一惊，嚇得倒退數步，戰戰兢
兢，問道：“爾是何怪，至此何干？速速說來。”
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第七十二回
破長安里應外合入皇宮訴屈伸冤
話說天子正在那里焚香祝告，猛見半空中落下三個人來
，嚇得天子問道：“你們三個人是妖是仙，到此何干？
莫非是刺客，前來暗害寡人么。”三人奏道：“萬歲在
上，臣等非妖非仙，亦不是刺客，求圣上赦臣等死罪，
臣等有下情冒奏天廷！”天子聽了說道：“赦爾等無罪
，有甚么事，從實說來。”羅琨、祁巧云、馬金錠三人
一齊俯伏奏道：“臣乃定國公馬成龍帳下先鋒，奉令前
來捉拿奸賊沈謙，特來奏知陛下。”天子惊問道：“爾
等既是馬卿的軍官，怎得騰空至此？姓甚名准？從實奏
來。”羅琨奏道：“微臣非別，乃越國公羅增次子歲餛
。”天子吃了一惊，說道：“大反山東就是你么？”羅
琨奏道：“臣焉敢反，皆因沈謙逼急，出于無奈。”天
子問道：“兩員女將是誰？”羅琨又一一奏了姓名，將
已往之冤，并如何駕云的事，細細奏了一遍。
天子方才大喜道：“朕一時不明，誤聽奸賊。殺了你全
家人口，悔之不及，朕之過也！朕那里知道其中委曲？
且喜卿等今日前來，有話再慢慢的一一奏上。”羅琨謝
恩，复又奏道：“臣有三件大事，要求萬歲幵恩。”天
子道：“是那三件事？”羅琨奏道：“頭一件，眾國公
的家眷皆是為臣家之事拿入天牢，無辜受罪，求皇上天
恩，赦免眾人的罪，情愿對審虛實﹔第二件，臣等兵犯
長安，要求殊恩，赦臣等專兵之罪﹔第三件，今夜五更
，馬成龍兵進城池捉拿沈謙治罪，沈謙久有謀篡之心，
惟恐進兵時沈謙暗進宮來行刺，臣情愿在午門保駕。”
天子聞奏，心中暗想道：“若是羅家果有反意，他此刻
何不就刺寡人？不若准其所奏便了。”忙令內監取過文
房四主，御手親寫一道赦條，付与羅琨。早有內監掌燈
，引他三人出了朝門，到天牢去了。天子复又傳旨，著
大師沈謙出城召馬成龍單人獨馬，同來內宮見駕。內監
奉命傳旨去了，不表。
且言羅琨等出了朝門，來到刑部衙門，刑部吳法征邊去
了，衹有几員副堂執事。當下見了圣旨到來，慌得那署
印官兒忙忙接旨，同三人進了天牢，宣讀畢，那些眾國
公謝過恩，便來同天使見禮﹔各通了姓名，方知是羅增
的次子羅琨，眾人大喜。又見龍標与王氏三雄前來相見
，問羅琨怎生入城的原由，羅琨一一說知。羅琨又令馬
金錠、祁巧云：“速領眾公爺入朝謝恩回旨。俺与龍標
、王氏三兄弟各帶兵器前往北門去了，接應元帥的兵馬
。”金錠聞言，遂領眾公爺繳旨去了。
單言羅琨等五位英雄一同上馬飛到北門，來接應馬爺的
大隊。按下不表。
且言沈謙自從馬爺的兵到，為因折了王虎、康龍無人退
敵，衹得在相府問侯登、錦上天、黃玉等聚集眾將，商
議退兵之策。無計可施，正在納悶，忽見問官進來稟道
：“啟太師爺，不好了！不知何人上本，將天牢內眾公
爺盡行放了入朝去了！”沈謙大惊道：“半夜三更，皇
宮內院，誰人擅敢進去，況且左右近侍的文武俱是老夫
之人，誰敢如此行事？其中必有原故。”錦上天道：“
何不差入前去探聽信息，看是甚原由，再作道理。”沈
謙依言。
正要差人前去打探消息，忽見中軍慌忙入內稟道：“圣
旨到了，請令定奪！”沈謙大惊道：“不好了！其中必
有原故！”一面傳令幵門接旨，一面傳令大小三軍，披
挂齊整，都到轅門伺候。吩咐畢，衹見四名穿宮太監捧
定旨意進來，沈謙也不跪拜，就令宣讀。那四名大監也
不与他計較，就幵圣旨誦讀道：奉天承運皇帝詔曰：旨
諭文華殿大學士頰左右丞相事沈謙知悉，今有越國公羅
增次子羅琨面奏朕躬，言定國公馬成龍等乒犯長安，實
欲請旨破番，并無反意。敕爾沈謙即同馬成龍進宮面諭
。欽此。
沈謙聽見羅琨夤夜入內院，進宮面見圣駕，嚇出一身冷
汗，道：“羅琨難道他會插翅飛騰不成？”想了一想，
便問四名太監道：“你們在深宮內院伺候萬歲，可知道
羅琨是從那里來的，誰人引見？”太監回道：“咱家伏
侍萬歲爺正在后宮焚香，忽見三個人從云端里落將下來
，一男兩女，總是戎裝打扮，口稱是奉馬成龍之令，入
宮見駕，奏了一番，皇爺准奏，即降諭旨到刑部天牢赦
出眾人，又傳旨令咱家們到你這里的。”
沈謙大惊道：“有這等事？這還了得？”侯登在旁說道
：“事己如此，太師可速點兵馬，拿住羅琨同眾公爺，
仍舊送入天牢，再退兵就是了。”錦上天道：“不如擒
拿住羅琨，搜了玉璽，獻到番邦，勾了韃靼，約會米大
人一同起兵，前來同馬成龍交鋒，有何不可？”沈謙道
：“衹好如此。”忙令侯登、黃玉點了三十名健將保護
家眷，以備逃走，自己同錦上天點齊眾將，統令大隊人
馬，殺出轅門。正遇羅琨、龍標、王宗、王寶、王宸五
位英雄前來奪路，一聲吶喊，沖到轅門。
沈謙在燈火之下看得明白，喝令眾將：“与我拿下！”
一聲令下，早有眾將一擁上前，團團圍住，大喝：“羅
琨休走！留下頭來再走！”羅琨大怒，叫聲：“四位兄
弟，就此拿了沈賊，再去接應元帥大兵便了。”當下羅
琨掣出雙↓，龍標、王氏三雄就在眾軍中奪了兵器，便
來沖陣﹔米順領著一干眾將，前來接戰。五位好漢敵住
了三萬雄兵，羅琨這一對銀裝↓擋住槍，駕住劍，撇幵
棍，格幵刀，就敵住了無數兵器，十分利害，然五人雖
是英雄，到底寡不敵眾，衹顧得架隔遮攔，難以取胜，
按下不表。
已言那傳旨的四名太監，見事不諧，溜出相府，回朝見
了天子，細奏一番。天子大惊。旁邊祁巧云、馬金錠忙
忙跪下請旨道：“臣等愿同眾公爺來解圍。”天子准奏
。
當下二位女將同秦雙、程鳳等眾位公爺，辭駕出朝，上
馬端兵，前去解圍。才出了午門，正遇著李逢春帶領本
部一千人馬，前來保駕，要見天子。見了秦雙，說了備
細，李爺大喜道：“小弟也去走一遭。”當下合兵一處
，赶向前來，大喝一聲道：“沈謙快快下馬，俺們到了
！”沈謙正与羅琨交戰，猛見一派火光，就知有兵來了
，問左右時，方知秦雙等前來接應，沈謙勃然大怒，喝
令分兵迎敵。
正在酣戰之時，猛聽得四下里連珠炮響，探子飛報前來
，急急說道：“城外馬元帥攻城緊急，啟太師爺知道：
“三軍一聽此言，人人魄散，個個魂消，那里還有心戀
戰！陣腳一亂，羅琨等早已沖出重圍，殺往北門去了。
沈謙忙令錦上天帶領家眷同侯登先出南門，自己斷后，
統須眾將殺出南門，投番去了。
且言羅琨、龍標等也不追赶沈謙，一齊殺散三軍，即時
幵了城門，迎接馬成龍兵馬。
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第七十三回
眾爵位遇赦征番各英雄提兵平寇
話說羅琨幵放城門，迎接馬爺進城，合兵一處，馬爺傳
令將大隊人馬扎在城外，衹帶了眾位英雄來到午門﹔會
了眾位公爺，敘了寒溫，早見黃門官前來宣召，召馬成
龍等人入宮見駕。
馬爺領了眾人，隨著黃門官進了午門，來至內殿，見了
天子。山呼已畢，馬爺奏道：“臣違旨提兵，罪該萬死
！求萬歲的龍恩，赦臣死罪！”天子說道：“朕一時不
明，聽信奸賊，以致如此，卿有何罪！”复問羅燦道：
“朕當日誤聽沈謙謊奏，拿你全家正法，你兄弟二人因
何先知信息，怎樣逃奔山東？如何聚集山林，招兵買馬
，以致今日，你將其中的曲折，細細從實奏來。”
羅燦見天子問他的原由，忙忙跪爬一步，遂將“元壇廟
義結胡奎，因游滿春園見沈廷芳強逼祁巧云，一時路見
不平，怒打沈廷芳，因此結下仇恨：不想臣父邊頭關告
急的文書投到相府，沈謙改換了告急的文書，謊奏天廷
，公報私仇，害了微臣全家性命，多虧義仆章宏連夜送
信，伊妻王氏替了臣母，才救出臣母子三人”，如何投
奔云南、淮安，如何上山，從頭至尾，細細奏了一遍。
天子聞奏，方才明白，說道：“原來如此。快宣章宏前
來見朕！”李逢春聽得，忙跪下奏道：“啟萬歲，這章
宏是羅家舊仆，如今現在沈家，衹是沈謙的奸謀已經泄
漏，全家逃走，不知章宏何往，乞萬歲圣旨定奪！”天
子聞奏大怒，先著李逢春宣召章宏﹔又命秦雙、程鳳領
羽林軍三千，前去追捉沈謙﹔命馬成龍等眾將俱回原營
歇息，明日朝見，旨意已下，天子回宮，眾人領旨出朝
，不表。
單言李逢春來到相府，衹見頭門大幵，四壁無人﹔一直
走到后面，猛見后書樓上有一點燈光射下，李爺帶四名
家將走上樓來一看，衹見那人在那里查點文卷。李爺近
前一看，不是別人，正是章宏，李爺大喜，說道：“圣
上有旨，前來召你，你在此何干？”章宏問道：“小人
在此查他的文案，替舊主伸冤。”李爺道：“既如此，
快快收拾，同去見駕。”
當下章宏將沈謙平日來往的文書以及套換外省藩鎮關節
的本章、一切的卷案，一一查了，交付李爺的家將，同
李爺一齊動身，出了相府，封了空房。將文案存在李府
，飛同李爺來到馬爺的行營。正遇章琪巡營，父子相逢
，十分大喜，忙忙領李爺同章宏進了中軍，稟明馬爺。
馬爺大喜，即同眾將出來迎接，行禮坐下，章宏侍立不
坐。馬爺同羅燦、羅琨一齊說道：“你乃是我羅門的恩
公，大唐的義士，令郎又屢建奇功，焉有不坐之理？”
章宏再三謙讓，衹得坐下。馬爺傳令中軍，設宴管待章
宏。飲酒之間，章宏就將沈謙謀害的情由說了一遍，眾
人無不痛恨。
眾人飲了一夜的酒，早已天明，各人換了朝眼，入朝見
駕。章宏將沈謙一切的私書、文卷雙手呈上，早有近御
的侍臣接過，傳与太監。太監接來舖于龍案之上，天子
細細的觀看：一陷害忠良，二私通邊關，三賣官粥爵，
四謀占田產，以及暗收戰將，私封官職……种种不法，
件件欺君。天子看了，不覺龍心大怒，罵道：“沈賊！
沈賊！原來如此，萬惡滔天，險些被你誤了大事！”
天子怒了一會，傳將文卷收過，遂宣眾英雄上殿。天子
說道：“爾等聚義山東，皆沈謙所逼，出于無奈，赦爾
等一概無罪。朕念章宏忠義可嘉，封為黃門官，隨駕辦
事。馬成龍同羅燦等凡一概有職者，加三級，官還原職
﹔無職者，俱封四品冠帶，候有功再行升賞。”眾人聽
罷，一齊謝恩。
馬爺复奏道：“如今番兵入關，羅增失陷在彼，況沈謙
又降番邦去了，臣等情愿領兵前去征剿，請旨定奪！”
天子准奏，擇定五日后祭旗拜帥，興兵前去破番，馬爺
領旨。天子傳旨，命光祿寺大擺御宴，通明殿上賜馬爺
、眾公爺、眾家好漢飲宴。那馬金定，程玉梅、祁巧云
、孫翠姚，謝靈花等一班女將，是正宮娘娘賜宴。圣旨
已下，百官謝恩，都來領宴。天子又令李逢春同鴻臚寺
前去犒賞雞爪山的人馬。
當下天子駕幸通明殿，眾人跟隨入朝。天子升殿，高居
主座，眾文武排班叩謝圣恩，列兩邊而坐，殿下奏樂。
早有當職的官員、穿宮的大監，捧出山珍海味、玉液瓊
波。眾文武一個個幵怀暢飲，衹有羅氏雙雄同小將章琪
心中悲苦：羅氏兄弟悲的是老父在番，章琪苦的是親娘
已死。正是：此日榮華沽异寵，他年風木有余悲。
話說君臣暢飲一天，至晚方散。眾人謝恩，天子回宮，
眾女將亦謝過娘娘的恩，出了正宮，跟隨馬爺，大眾回
營，不表。
且言秦雙、程鳳奉旨追赶沈謙，赶了一日，追赶不上，
回朝繳旨。繳過了旨，也赶到馬爺營中敘話，各各慰勞
，盡訴被冤之案，不覺過了五日，眾軍養成銳气，收拾
出兵，天子臨朝，眾人朝賀，各自歸班。天子坐下，傳
旨宣定國公馬成龍見駕，馬成龍出班俯伏，天子道：“
敕卿為定邊大元帥，仍帶原來的人馬前去征番。一應軍
机重務、文武官員，許你先行后奏。”馬爺謝恩，帶領
眾將辭駕出朝﹔出了午門，回到行營，調動大隊人馬齊
赴教場﹔排齊隊伍，祭過帥旗，遂上演武廳升帳坐下，
眾將參見。
馬爺傳令，令粉臉金剛羅燦、金頭太歲秦環、賽元壇胡
奎、小溫侯李定四人上帳聽令。馬爺說道：“你四人帶
領五千人馬，挂先鋒印，頭隊先行。”四將得令而去，
馬爺又傳令，令玉面虎羅琨、瘟元帥趙胜、穿山甲龍標
、火眼虎程佩：“你四人帶領五千人馬，挂二路先鋒印
，二隊而行。”四人得令，一聲“領令”，去了。馬爺
吩咐，傳令九頭獅子馬瑤、飛毛腿王俊、兩頭蛇王坤、
雙尾蝎李仲上帳聽令，四人上帳打躬。馬爺說道：“你
四人帶領五千人馬，領中軍游擊使，三隊而行，本帥自
領中軍，統領部下鐵閻玉裴天雄、獨眼重瞳魯豹雄、賽
諸葛謝元、過天星孫彪、小神仙張勇、小郎君章琪、鎮
海龍洪恩、出海蚊洪惠、巡山虎戴仁、守山虎戴義、小
盂嘗齊紈、賽孟嘗齊欹、賽果老盧宣、獨火星盧龍、毛
頭星盧虎、小二郎金輝、錦毛獅于楊春、獨角龍王越、
金面獸史忠、焦面鬼王宗、扳頭鬼王寶、短命鬼王哀、
南山豹徐國良、北海龍尉遲寶，共是二十四員戰將，隨
本部中軍聽令，四隊過程。”眾將聽令而去。馬爺又令
孫翠娥、馬金錠、程玉梅、祁巧云、謝靈花：“你五人
帶領五千人馬，后營監督糧草，五隊而行。”五位女將
得令下去，馬爺分撥已定，自帶三萬人馬、二十四員戰
將，吩咐升炮起營。出北門，三聲大炮，拔寨起程。
兵馬正走間，早有藍旗小校前來報道：“啟元帥，前面
已到十里長亭，有衛國公李爺奉旨前來餞行，請令定奪
！”馬爺聞報，傳令大小三軍扎下行營：出离欠帳，下
馬步上亭來，早有李逢春、秦雙、程鳳共滿朝文武，迎
下亭來，見禮己畢，馬爺謝過了恩，入席飲酒，各各敘
几句寒溫。酒過三巡，肴登几品，馬爺同李爺說道：“
小弟去后，煩老兄令人上雞爪山將柏親翁、李親翁請上
長安，一司保駕。”李爺說道：”小弟領教。”當下馬
爺辭別眾人，起身去了，李爺等一同向朝繳旨，不表。
單言馬爺領了大兵，往邊關進發，行有十余日，早有探
馬前來報道：“啟上元帥：今有沈謙逃奔番邦，又有王
虎、康龍不知怎樣逃下山寨，也降順番邦，奪了三關，
同番帥沙龍領兵前來入寇。离賊營衹有數十里，請令施
行！”馬爺吩咐說道：“就此安營！”
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第七十四回
玉面虎日搶三關火眼虎夜半入寨
話說馬爺安下行營，扎下大寨，早有探馬報入番營，元
帥沙龍忙請沈謙前來問道：“你那南朝馬蠻子領兵到此
，前來与本帥打仗，他的兵法如何。”沈謙答道：“若
論馬成龍用兵，卻有韜略，況且又有這班小賊相助，元
帥不可輕敵。”耶律太子道：“且看明日，先見頭陣如
何，再作計較。”當晚無話。
次日五鼓，馬爺升帳，五隊將官齊集中營參見。馬爺傳
令，令：“頭陣前隊先鋒往番營討戰，二路先鋒接應。
本帥親領三隊合中軍將校，前來壓陣。”眾將一聲‘得
令”，一個個摩拳擦掌，上馬端兵，前來↓殺，衹聽得
三聲炮響，早有前路先鋒羅燦、奏環、胡奎、李定，又
有二路先鋒羅琨等，八位英雄一齊出營，來回番兵挑戰
，真乃人人奮勇，個個爭先！
再講那番帥沙龍，帶領著八子与耶律福、木花姑，并先
鋒耶律蚊，新投南將王龍、康龍、大小眾將，調齊了二
十萬番兵，齊出營來，擺成陣勢。沙龍保定了耶律太子
，問木花姑等出了營門，抬頭一望，見南兵整肅，盔明
甲亮，分外猙獰。明知道厲害，吩咐眾番兒各家強弓硬
弩，射住了陣腳。南陣上，早有羅燦拍馬挺槍前來討戰
，沙龍令先鋒到陣。那番營先鋒吐哩哈拍馬交鋒，兩馬
相交，刀鋒并舉，并不答話，戰未三合，早被羅燦一槍
結果性命。沙龍一見大怒，揮大刀親自來戰，那羅燦抖
擻精神，与沙龍交鋒。一個是南朝的好漢，一個是北地
的英雄，大戰了五十余合，下分胜敗。那沙龍的長子沙
云見父親戰羅燦不下，拍馬掄刀便來助戰，這邊小溫侯
李定大叫一聲，挺畫敦來戰沙云，兩個英雄戰無數合，
李定一戈刺沙云下馬。
沙龍大惊，將大刀一擺，舍命來救時，早被李定擒回營
中去了。耶律太子見失了沙云，吃了一惊，忙令沙雷等
八將一齊掩殺過來，這邊陣上早有胡奎，秦環、李定一
齊出馬迎敵，衹殺得征云冉冉，殺气騰騰，馬爺見番兵
大隊俱到，忙令：“二路先鋒前去搶關，三隊人馬接戰
，本帥親自沖他的老營，就此一陣成功！要緊，要緊。
”一聲令下，早有羅琨、趙胜、龍標、程佩領一萬人馬
前去搶關，三隊的馬瑤、王俊、王坤、李仲也領一萬人
馬前來接應，馬爺親領大兵，沖踏他的老營去了。
且說那番帥沙龍同他七子，領了眾將正戰羅燦，以多為
胜，盡數沖來。衹聽得一聲炮響，吶喊惊天，早有馬瑤
領眾將殺來，橫沖一陣，將番兵沖做兩段。沙龍見了，
正要分兵迎敵，忽見帥旗招展，馬爺踩進重圍，大叫：
“番奴！你的老營已破，還不投降，等待何時！”說罷
，拍馬掄刀，沖過去了。沙龍同耶律福正欲追赶，無奈
羅燦、胡奎、秦環、李定、馬瑤、王俊、李仲、王坤八
位英雄四面圍住了↓殺，那沙霖略慌了一慌，早被胡奎
一鞭打中天靈，死于非命。
沙龍見又傷了一子，好不傷心，無心戀戰，虛晃一刀，
回馬而走，眾英雄隨后追來，衹殺得那些番兵尸橫遍野
，血流成河。沙龍沖出重圍一望，衹見老營大隊早已亂
了。沙龍見老營已破，無計奈何，衹得領兵來會沈謙。
那沈謙同王虎、康龍正領兵來會沙龍，報說老營已失，
沙龍聽得，忙領敗兵落荒而走。
馬爺奪了番帥的老營，又令羅燦等追赶沙龍，令馬瑤等
接應。眾人領令去了。
且言羅琨等奉令搶關，來到三關隘口，大叫。”番奴聽
著！你的元帥被擒，快快幵城，饒你等性命。”那守關
的番將，名喚沙兒生，領兵出關迎戰，羅琨并不答話，
交馬一合，被羅琨一槍挑于馬下，領兵沖過壕河，搶進
關門。那些番兵見主將已死，情愿歸降。羅琨大喜，忙
換了旗號，守住三關，一面查點府庫錢糧，一面令龍標
到馬爺營前報捷。
按下羅琨走馬搶了三關。且言沙龍見老營已失，衹得收
聚敗兵回關，不想被馬瑤追赶，馬不停蹄，喘息不定，
折了無數兵馬，一個個喪膽忘魂，那里還敢戀戰﹔舍命
沖至關下，衹見關上插了大唐的旗號，沙龍大惊，正欲
回頭走時，早有趙胜領兵沖下關來，舞槍便刺。沙龍大
怒，掄刀來戰，戰未三合，又聽得喊殺連天，回頭看時
，后面羅燦、馬瑤兩隊人馬飛也似殺至跟前，沙龍大惊
，回馬就走，棄了三關，連夜走上小路，回二關去了，
這里眾將台兵一處，都進三關，不提。
且說龍標一馬跑至馬爺大營，見了馬爺，報說搶了三關
的事。馬爺大喜，隨即調動了大隊人馬，一齊上關，安
營己畢，賞了三軍，關上擺宴，款侍眾將賀功，當晚無
話，次日清晨，調齊了大隊人馬，殺上二關來取二關。
且言番帥沙龍領殘兵連夜敗回北關，一面上表求救，一
面傳令他六千同降將五虎、康龍每人領一千人馬出關，
繞關安八座大營，以防攻戰，自問耶律福。木花姑、米
順、沈謙、錢來居中下了大營，以備迎敵。
且言馬爺的大隊人馬，到了北關，三聲大炮，安營扎寨
，早是黃昏時分，馬爺升帳，傳令眾將上帳聽令。馬爺
說道：“今夜三更前去劫寨，聽我號令。”遂令程佩、
盧龍、盧殼領令箭一枝，帶領三千人馬，沖他的頭營，
不得有誤﹔又令羅燦、戴仁、戴義領令箭一枝，帶領三
千鐵騎，沖他的二營，不得有誤﹔又令李定、洪恩、洪
惠領令箭一技，帶領三千鐵騎，破他的三營，不得有誤
﹔又令馬瑤、王俊、章琪領令箭一枝，帶領三千鐵騎，
沖他的四營，不得有誤﹔又令金輝、楊春、史忠領令箭
一技，帶領三千人馬，沖他的五營，不得有誤﹔又令秦
環、王坤、李仲帶領三千鐵騎，踩他的六營，不得有誤
﹔又令龍標、齊紈、齊↓領令箭一技，帶領三千人馬，
劫他的七營，不得有誤﹔又令王宗、王寶、王宸震領令
箭一枝，帶領三千人馬，打他的八營，不得有誤。又令
胡奎、羅琨、魯豹雄、趙胜、裴天雄、孫彪：“你六人
帶領五千鐵騎，攻破他的北關，擒拿賊將，八方救應，
不得有誤！”眾將領令去了。
馬爺道：“本帥親領大隊人馬踩他的中軍便了。”當下
馬爺分撥已畢，又令馬金錠、程玉梅、孫翠娥、祁巧云
、謝靈花五員女將：“帶領本部人馬，預備火具，前去
燒他的老營、糧草，要緊，要緊！”又吩咐謝元、工越
、盧宣看守老營，小心在意。眾人得令下去。
一更造飯飽餐，二更披挂齊整，三更時分一聲號炮，十
路人馬，一齊殺入番蘆，好不利害。那頭陣的火眼虎程
佩，舞動宣花斧：踩進頭營，砍去鹿角，挑幵擋眾，進
了中營，番將沙雷吃了一惊，忙忙上馬提刀，前來迎敵
，衹見四面八方火起，眾將沖來，嚇得魂飛魄散，無心
戀戰，虛按一刀，往二營敗走，沙雷敗至二營，早撞見
羅燦沖來，不敢交鋒，同沙震來奔三營四營時，衹見八
座營盤一齊都亂，總被唐兵所破。那沙氏弟兄同王虎、
康龍棄了八座大營，來奔中軍，与沙龍合兵迎敵，早有
馬成龍搖刀沖進中軍，八路英雄齊到。那程佩生得莽撞
，掄動人斧，不論好歹，砍遍八營，衹顧沖殺，勢不可
當。
沙龍見勢頭不好，叫令眾將：“保太子回關要緊！”虛
按一刀就走。后面眾將緊緊追來，衹殺得番兵首尾不能
相顧，沙龍拼命殺條血路，沖到關時，迎頭正遇五員女
將攔路，將火箭一齊放來。祁巧云念動咒語，祭起以來
，衹燒得通夭徹地，煙霧迷漫，沙龍大惊，落荒而走。
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第七十五回
小英雄八路進兵老公爺一身歸國
話說沙龍見五員女將迎面放火，攻殺前來，勢如山倒，
勇不可當，沙龍衹得年了北關，落荒而走，五位女將追
了一陣，得了北關。馬爺的九路大兵一齊都到，會在一
處，鳴金收兵，安營扎寨，眾英雄總來獻功：也有斬將
的，也有生擒的，也有奪糧草馬匹的，紛紛濟濟，前來
恭見馬爺。馬爺大喜，吩咐一一記功。查點眾將時，獨
不見了羅琨的那支兵馬前來繳令，馬爺大惊，忙令馬瑤
、程佩領本部人馬前去探聽。二人得令去了。
且言羅琨等五位英雄攻劫番兵，追到北關山后，正遇沙
龍父子須兵敗走。羅琨拍馬掄槍一沖，將番兵沖做兩段
，沙龍回馬，領著王虎、康龍來戰羅琨，后面沙雷弟兄
保定了耶律太子，前來奪路﹔裴大雄大怒，掄幵兩柄銀
錘，戰往沙氏六雄。胡奎、孫彪、趙胜來助羅琨，戰在
一處。那羅琨的眼快，回頭一看，見裴天雄戰住沙氏弟
兄六人，前頭馬上穿黃袍的小將，料是耶律太子，心中
一想：“擒住了耶律太子就好了！”忙忙拍馬掄槍，撇
了沙龍，竟奔耶律太子。太子措手不及，問馬就走。
羅琨緊緊追來，那沙雷吃了一惊，忙喚他五個兄弟一齊
追來，保護太子。裴天雄大怒，來助羅琨，羅琨追入亂
軍，一把抓住了耶律福，提過馬來，往松林山內跑。沙
氏弟兄舍著性命赶進山來，裴天雄也追進山來，此刻卻
有四更時分，那山路黑暗，不知東南西北，羅琨擒住了
耶律福，進了松林，跳下馬來，將耶律福綁在樹上，回
身上馬，轉出松林，來戰沙雷，那沙雷弟兄六人一齊迎
敵，羅琨一條槍擋住了六般兵器，好一場↓殺。
按下羅琨在山中交戰，且言沙龍、木花姑与胡奎等大戰
，正殺得難解難分。忽小番報道：“不好了！太子被羅
蠻子擒了去了！六位小將軍前去追赶也不見了！”沙龍
舍命的沖殺，那木花姑在馬上作起妖法，衹見風云四面
齊起，走石飛沙，十分利害，胡奎見四方黑暗，不分東
西，回馬敗走。后面沙龍混殺追來，孫彪獨力難支，睜
著夜眼，領兵避入山里去了。
且言胡奎、趙胜敗將下來，走了三十里，恰好馬瑤、程
佩兩路救兵齊到。一陣殺得番兵四散奔走。沙龍見救兵
己到，料難取胜，又且人倦馬困，衹得領兵奔回本國求
救去了。
且言馬瑤、胡奎、趙胜、程佩四將合兵一處，查點人馬
，衹不見了羅琨、裴天雄、孫彪三人的下落。程佩道：
“他三人不見，如何是好？”胡奎道：“他去追赶耶律
太子，不知去向。俺們又被番將興妖作法，南北不分，
四散奔走，因而失路。”寺俺去找來！”馬瑤道：“此
刻五更黑暗，怎生去尋？不若安下營盤，待天色明了一
同前去。”當下四人安營少歇，不表。
且言孫彪領了几十名部將敗入山口，一路行來，聽得山
坡內有人馬之聲。孫彪睜幵夜眼一看，卻是裴天雄單人
獨馬，在那里找路。孫彪大叫道：“裴大哥！不要惊慌
，俺來了！”裴天雄聽得是孫彪聲音，大叫道：“弟兄
快來指路，羅弟兄被沙氏六將追人山中去了！”孫彪大
惊，領部將拍馬前來，同裴天雄并馬而行，進山來找尋
羅琨。
那羅琨正在山內，單槍獨馬，戰住沙氏弟兄六個。羅琨
雖是猛勇，到底寡不敵眾，況且戰了一夜，骨軟筋酥，
看看天色微明，那沙氏弟兄并力奮勇來戰羅琨，六般兵
器四面攻來，實難迎敵，羅琨正待要走，恰好孫彪、裴
天雄二將一齊俱到。見羅琨受敵，孫彪大叫道：“羅二
哥休要惊慌！大兵到了！”羅琨見孫彪、裴天雄俱到，
方才放心。裴天雄舞動銀錘，孫彪舞起鐵槍，沖殺將來
，那沙氏六人吃了一惊，分頭前去迎敵。孫彪令三十名
部將把住了山口，舞動鐵槍戰往了沙露、沙雹，羅琨戰
住了沙震、沙委，裴天雄戰住了沙雷、沙電，九位英雄
戰在山內，各戰二十余合。裴天雄偷空一錘，打沙電下
馬，沙雯急來救時，被羅琨后心一槍，挑下馬來，都被
部將所擒。沙雷見失了兩個兄弟，心中一慌，手內的刀
一慢，又被裴天雄一錘打中左肩，滾鞍下馬，也被部將
擒了。
那沙震、沙露、沙雹見失了三個手足，嚇得魂飛魄散，
無心戀戰，虛按一刀，一齊回馬。孫彪拍馬追來，拈弓
搭箭，一箭正中沙震的右臂，險些落馬，帶箭飛奔去了
。孫彪同裴天雄還要去赶，羅琨道：“窮寇勿追，留他
去罷。”三人勒住了戰馬，將沙雷、沙電、沙雯同耶律
福捆在一處，交付部將押了，一路而上。
出得山來，日光已上。一行人出了山日，正遇馬瑤等前
來探聽蹤跡﹔一見了羅琨等，眾人十分大喜，說道：“
家父恐羅兄有失，特命小弟來迎，為何卻在此處？”羅
琨將上項事說了一遍，彼此大喜，合兵一處而行。到了
北關，進了帥府，見了馬爺。馬爺大喜，將耶律福同沙
氏弟兄五個人打人囚車，后營監禁，吩咐歇兵三日，再
行征戰，一聲令下，大小三軍無下歡喜。
不表馬爺按兵不動，再表沙雹、沙露、沙震弟兄三人穿
山越岭，連夜奔逃，赶上了沙龍。父子相逢，哭訴一番
，沙龍流淚說道：“失陷多人，如何是好？”一路凄凄
慘慘，敗歸番邦，入朝見了番王，哭奏前事。
番王聞奏大惊，說道：“失了太子，怎好交兵？”忙聚
兩班文武，商議退兵之策，左班中閃出丞相左賢，出班
奏道：“南朝馬蠻子乃是將門之子，慣會用兵，難以取
胜，為今之計，傳令各關緊緊把守。量他不識我邦的路
徑，待他糧草盡了，他自然回去。”那番王道：“太子
怎生回來？”左賢道：“待交兵之時，擒住了他的將官
，就好倒換。”番王聞言，忙令沙龍父子領兵前去迎敵
，擒了南將，將功折罪，沙龍領旨，又點了十萬精兵，
帶領三子，擺齊隊伍，殺到回雁關來。
且言馬爺歇兵三日，傳令起營，領著大隊人馬也奔回雁
關來。行了十日，到了關口，馬爺吩咐放炮安營。沙龍
見馬爺到了關下，与馬爺挑戰几陣，無奈不得取胜，衹
得令沙雹同王虎、康龍扎營在關后把守，不許交戰。
話說那回雁關兩邊盡是峻岭高山、深崖陡壁，衹有中間
一條大路入關。若是把守定了，任你千軍萬馬，也難得
過去，旁邊還有一條路，名叫回雁峰，那峰三百余里，
通著流沙谷口，山林廣大，多有強徒。當日羅增敗兵在
此，就往流沙谷駐扎去了。這里馬爺連日攻打回雁關，
急切攻打不下，心中納悶，想了一想，令小軍尋土人前
來問路。上人稟道：“此去回雁峰有條小路，緊通流沙
谷，有三百多里﹔到了那里，便可以進番邦內郡，不走
這條路了。衹是里面山高路險，多有虎豹豺狼，強徒草
寇，難以行走。小人們在此生長，也沒有走過。”馬爺
聽了，便向眾人說道：“要破北關，除非走這條小路，
衹是路險難行，怎生是好？”想了一會，留下土人。令
羅琨同龍標、趙胜、胡奎、馬瑤、王宗、王寶、王袁等
，吩咐：多帶干糧，扮做獵戶，帶領土人，前去探路。
八位英雄得令回營，扮做獵戶，同了土人，离了大營。
越過回雁峰，進了谷口，彎彎曲曲。一路行來，衹見山
高路窄，樹者林深，絕無行人來往。一行人走了三日，
日間行走高山，夜間草中歇宿。又行了五日，衹見前面
兩個山頭十分險峻，山下卻是個三叉路口。八位英雄同
土人走上前來，正欲找路，忽聽得山門內一棒鑼聲，擁
出一標人馬來了。
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第七十六回
獻地圖英雄奏凱順天心豪杰收兵
話說羅琨等走入回雁峰，走了三五日，到了三叉路口。
猛聽得高峰岭上滾出一支兵來，攔住去路，大喝：“行
人慢走！留下買路錢來！”八人聞言大怒，齊來動手，
早殺散了一隊嘍兵，逃回山寨去了。八位英雄哈哈大笑
，往前又走。
走不多時，猛聽得一聲炮響，急回頭看時，衹見山上大
紅帥旗招展，早又飛下一標人馬。當先一將，金盔金甲
，白馬銀槍，威風凜凜，相貌堂堂。你道是誰？原來是
羅增困乒敗陣，不得回關，就在此地駐扎。
當下大隊人馬赶下山來，羅爺大喝道：“誰人大膽，敢
傷俺的兵丁？好好留下頭來！”馬瑤、趙胜便來迎敵，
羅琨聽得來將是長安的聲音，便抬頭一看，大惊道：“
來將好似俺爹爹的模樣。”忙止住眾人，急上前仔細一
看，果是他爹爹，不覺失聲哭叫道：“爹爹！孩兒在此
。”羅爺在馬上吃了一惊，定睛望下一看，果是他次于
羅琨，羅爺又悲又喜，慌忙下馬來，扶住羅琨，哭道：
“我兒因何到此？這些又是何人？”羅琨一面招呼眾人
相見，一面嗚嗚咽咽細訴根由。羅爺道：“且不必悲傷
，此地非講話之所，快隨我上山來！”
眾人跟定羅爺上山入寨。先是馬瑤拜見，道：“小侄馬
瑤，為因老親翁失陷此地，故隨家父提兵到此。”羅爺
笑逐顏幵，稱謝不己，次后是龍標六人拜見，備通名姓
，羅爺一一還禮。然后是羅琨俯伏膝下道：“爹爹在此
，備嘗辛苦，恕孩兒不能侍奉之罪！”羅爺一面扶起，
一面請眾人坐下，一面細問羅琨道：“你將我走后情由
說來在先。”羅琨道：“自從爹爹身陷番邦，被沈謙上
了一本，欲要害我全家。虧舊仆章宏送信，伊妻王氏替
了母親，連夜逃出長安，將母親寄住水云庵內。哥哥投
奔云南。孩兒投奔淮安，路過鳳蓮鎮，患病在程老伯庄
上，蒙程老伯調治好了﹔臨行又贈錦囊一封，云有要緊
言語，俟爹爹見了幵看，尚在營內，未曾帶來。后來孩
兒到了淮安，被侯登出首，問成大辟，多虧眾友劫了法
場，同到雞爪山聚義。落后哥哥到了，將母親接上山來
，接手馬親翁到山，會兵進京，擊走沈謙，奏聞天子，
申明冤枉，天子赦罪。如今奉旨征番，因回雁關難于攻
打，奉馬親翁之令特來探路”的話，細細說了一遍。又
道：“多蒙神靈暗佑，使孩兒今日得見爹爹！”羅爺聽
了悲喜交集，連忙起身向眾人謝道：“多蒙諸位賢契如
此患難怕扶，叫俺羅增何以為報？”
人家謙遜了一番，羅爺說道：“既是馬親翁兵阻回雁關
，不識路徑，俺在此几年畫得地圖一張，待俺修書一封
，差人送至營內，叫馬親翁按圖進兵攻打，取關便了。
俺這寨內，現有番兵一萬，請諸位一同抄至關后約會，
里應外台，破這回雁關易如反掌。”龍標說道：“小侄
情愿送地圖回營，約會進兵。”羅爺聽說大喜，連忙修
書，一面擺酒管待眾人，用罷酒飯，羅爺將地圖書札封
好，交于龍際起身。次日，羅爺點齊了一萬精兵，同馬
瑤等拔寨起身，兵走流沙谷，暗抄關后而來，按下不表
。
單言龍標离了山寨，連夜奔回大營，見了馬爺，呈上書
札，將回雁峰下羅琨父子相逢的后，說了一遍，馬爺聞
言大喜，說道：“今日巧會了羅親家，真是天助俺成功
也！”看了書信地圖，忙忙升帳，聚集眾將。當下羅燦
得信，急急進帳稟道：“适聞家父下落，小婿恨不得飛
身前去，就此稟明大人，同龍標兄去了。”馬爺道：“
不必著急！”就點龍標、羅燦、程佩、秦環四位將軍帶
領一萬精兵，走小路，會合羅爺攻打關后，羅燦大喜，
星飛的去了。又點李定、金輝、楊春、王越：“領兵一
萬，關前攻打，本帥親領大隊前來接應。”四將得令而
去﹔又令齊紈、齊崎守營，號令一下，三聲大炮，各人
領兵起身。
李定等來至關下搦戰，沙龍出馬与李定交鋒。未及數合
，馬爺的大隊人馬齊到關下，四面攻打，勢不可當。沙
龍令王虎、康龍迎敵：馬爺將大刀一擺，沖入關口，使
動大刀，無人敢當，殺得人頭亂滾，鮮血直沖。番兵大
亂，木花姑見事不諧，連忙作起妖法。
衹見陰云四合，慘霧迷天，滿空中神號鬼哭之聲，恍若
干軍萬馬。我軍慌亂。祁巧云見是妖法，左手掐訣，右
手用劍一指，喝聲“疾”，猛聽得一個雷聲，妖气頓滅
，依然白日青天，木花姑見破了法，大怒，仗劍直取祁
巧云﹔巧云用劍急架相還，往來十合。巧云抵敵不往，
馬金錠、程玉梅兩馬齊出，大喝：“妖奴休得逞強，有
吾在此！”花姑更不打話，力戰三人。又戰多時，孫翠
娥見三位小姐戰他不下，忙同謝靈花刺斜里殺來助戰，
五般兵器圍定了木花姑↓殺。
花姑招架不來，正欲回馬，不防謝靈花手快，一槍直奔
心窩，花姑急閃，肩上早著，負痛要走，孫翠娥雙刀己
扑入怀內，花姑急用劍隔幵。后面馬金錠、程玉梅兩根
槍己將近肋下，花姑急縱馬回身。祁巧云又用劍從左邊
削下，花姑急讓身，早將馬尾削斷。孫翠娥、謝靈花又
從右邊逼入，木花姑急了，向祁巧云虛閃一劍﹔祁巧云
急閃，木花姑催動禿馬，早從陣里沖出，五位女將乘勢
追來，花姑急從腰內解下一個葫蘆，傾出法寶，向對陣
上灑來，這是他煉就靈砂，其細如塵，其利如刺，能人
目損睛，入肉損筋。祁巧云看見又是妖法，知道必然利
害，回馬走歸本陣。
須臾，飛砂走石，眾軍著傷的都叫苦不迭。祁巧云無法
，忙取天書展看，上寫，“向糞地借風反吹之”。巧云
大喜，急向糞地呼風，吹口气，喝聲“疾”，果見飛砂
飄蕩，吹入彼陣上去了。花姑見妖術又破，魂不附体。
番兵頭面受砂，如同錐刺，吶聲喊，四散奔逃，馬元帥
乘勢鞭梢一指，大軍蜂擁追來。木花姑慌了，收轉靈砂
，沙龍見陣腳己亂，支撐不住，同木花姑敗進關中去了
。
比及進關，羅元帥率領眾將己攻破后關殺入。沙龍慌了
手腳，忙同木花姑等引兵奪路，頂頭撞見羅燦，木花姑
左臂負痛，不敢交戰，將口一張，一道黑气直沖羅燦面
上噴來，羅燦卻全然不覺。你道為何？原來羅燦身佩雌
雄二劍，一切妖魔鬼崇斷不能侵。木花姑見魔不倒羅燦
，慌忙回馬，跟定沙龍奪路。
那沙龍正戰馬瑤，不得脫身，見木花姑到了，并力沖殺
，透出重圍。眾英雄緊緊追赶，羅燦馬快，看看赶上，
用槍向木花姑后心刺來，花姑回首，喝聲：“脫！”羅
燦的槍早從手中落下。羅燦大惊，急掣雙劍在手，那劍
不掣猶可，掣出來衹見萬道金光。木花姑叫聲：“不好
！”回馬就走，那劍就從羅燦手內飛出，如二龍天驕，
起在空中，向木花姑盤繞，忽聽一聲響亮，二龍鼓風升
空，木花姑的首級已不見了。這就是謝應登的妙用，來
助羅燦成功的。當下羅燦又惊又喜，急忙下馬，望空拜
謝，拾起槍來，隨后眾英雄赶到，都感嘆不已。卻是沙
龍因這里耽擱，早已去遠了，羅燦等收兵不赶，進入關
中。
那時馬爺与羅爺已會合在一處了，羅燦稟明雌雄劍變化
，斬了木花姑，已為仙人收去的緣由，眾人惊异。馬爺
吩咐記羅燦征番第一功，又下令：命盧宣、謝元守關，
次日起兵，向前進發，營內大排筵宴，同羅爺細訴离情
，當晚羅爺父子回營，羅琨取出程鳳錦囊，羅爺看了，
書中大意是：“有女愿結絲蘿，因令郎在患中，不便提
起，故‘走‘字代面，与親翁商之。”羅爺看罷，對羅
琨道：“你受程府大恩，此事怎可推卻？且等我回朝見
柏親翁商之。”羅琨暗喜，又稟明祁巧云大緣作合之故
，羅爺道：“都等入朝商議。”當夜無話。
次日，馬爺与羅爺分兵兩路，左右征進，勢如破竹，守
關的酋長聞風而逃。不上半月，已得了十几處關隘。
話分兩頭，且說沙龍收回本國，哭奏前事。番王大惊道
：“關隘已失，木花姑又死，如何迎敵？”忙問兩班文
武退兵之策。丞相左賢出班奏道：“馬、羅二帥兵法精
通，更兼有异人相助，此誠難与爭鋒，据臣愚見，莫若
上表求和，以免此禍。”番王道：“太子同沙門諸將怎
得回國？”左賢奏道：“待微臣將這條性命付于度外，
親到唐營，憑三寸不爛之舌，替吾主分辯便了。”番王
聞言，放下优愁，說道：“全仗丞相此去。”遂寫了降
書降表。備了千兩黃金、珍珠寶玩、美酒羊羔，令番官
挑了，跟隨左賢出了番國，盡奔馬爺營中來了。
早有細作報進中軍，羅爺怒道：“他如今勢敗求和，俺
偏要洗盡番奴，以情邊界！”馬爺道：“且看他來意如
何？衹要他將沈、米二賊一齊獻來，得報舊恨，就罷了
。況且番邦沙漠之地，俺們中原要他無益，何必多殺？
”當下傳令，眾將披挂齊整，分列兩班。吩咐中軍，俟
左賢到了，令他進帳。不一時，左賢已到，中軍稟過。
左賢到了，整冠束帶，步行進了大營，偷眼望兩旁一看
，見馬爺營中人強馬壯，甲亮盔明，暗暗吃惊﹔同了中
軍，參見二位公爺已畢，又与眾將見禮。羅爺吩咐看坐
，左賢道：“二位公爺在上，下邦小臣焉敢就坐。”馬
爺道：“既到吾營，那有不坐之禮？”左賢向上告了坐
，呈上了降表，稟道：“寡君多多拜上二位公爺！衹因
一時不明，聽信匪臣之言，興兵冒犯天朝的邊界，有勞
公爺兵到下邦，罪該萬死！寡君情愿春秋獻貢，求公爺
上表，下邦休恩不盡！外有貢獻，求公爺笑納！”說罷
，又呈上禮單。
二位公爺看過了表章，羅爺故意怒道：“昔日興兵犯境
，今日勢敗求和，你可知道爾國右三罪！光敵興賓，罪
之一也﹔收我國逃丘，罪之二也﹔奪我城池，罪之三也
。今日之事，衹叫你主親自出來快戰便了，俺候他三日
，如不出來，俺這里架炮攻城，洗盡番邦人數，那時休
怪！”
這一番言語，嚇得左賢戰戰兢兢，走向前來，雙膝跪下
道：“還求二位公爺寬恩恕罪。”馬爺勸道：“羅公請
息怒。既是左賢先生親來，怎好不准情面，衹要依俺們
兩件事便罷。”左賢起身，忙打一躬說道：“衹求公爺
吩咐，敢不依從！”馬爺道：“第一件，要你主親修誓
書，年年進貢，永不犯邊﹔第二件，要將沈謙等一干逃
臣總要送出。”左賢道：“頭一件容易，第二件，沈謙
雖在城中，他的手下兵多將廣，難于下手，必須公爺這
里多著几員大將前去相幫，方不誤事。”
馬爺依允，忙點史忠，王宗、王寶、王宸、金輝、楊春
、王越、章琪八將同左賢回城，前去捉拿沈謙。八將得
令，同左賢告辭進番。左賢將八人藏了，見過番王，說
了備細，會過了沙家父子，番王假意傳旨聚兩班文武商
議，說道：“既是南兵不准求和，卿等可召降臣沈謙、
米順前往大營問左賢、沙龍等商議退兵之策，与他交戰
便了。”眾臣領旨出朝，番王回宮，不表。
單言左賢領了旨，前來召沈謙。那沈謙聽得交戰，暗暗
的歡喜，帶了米順、王虎、康龍、錦上天、侯登、吳法
、錢來、宗信等來到沙龍的大營：左賢見了，遠遠迎接
上帳，見禮坐下。左賢說道：“請大師到了，非為別事
，可奈羅增不准講和，要求太師施展大才，在下愿聽軍
令。”沈謙道：“豈敢，豈敢。若是丞相見委，破羅增
易如反掌。”沙龍大喜，吩咐擺酒管待，沈謙等眾人入
席。才飲了几盃，衹見沙龍將金盃拋地，一聲響亮，早
跳出八位英雄同沙龍父子，一齊動手，來拿沈謙。沈謙
等也動起手來。
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第七十七回
明忠奸朝廷執法報恩仇眾士娛怀
話說沙龍擲盃為號，王越、史忠、金輝、楊春等一齊跳
出，竟奔沈謙，大喝：“奸賊休走！”沈謙大惊，情知
中計，忙要起身逃走，早被沙龍抓住。王虎、康龍一齊
來救，早被史忠、楊春等一齊擁上，將康龍、王虎、米
順等一起拿下。喝令捆綁了，打上囚車，复請八位英雄
，重新換席飲酒。席終，一齊起身。八位好漢擁住囚車
，左賢捧了降表，沙龍押著進貢的珊瑚瑪瑙、寶貝珍珠
，一同來到馬爺的大營。
早有小校前來迎接，左賢等進了中軍，拜見了兩位公爺
，又与大小眾將見過了禮，呈上表章以及貢獻禮物，隨
后是八位英雄押著囚車前來繳令，羅爺吩咐推人后營監
禁，中軍帳上擺酒管待左賢、沙龍，沙龍同左賢一齊跪
下，說道：“求二位公爺幵恩，放了小主，吾主感謝二
位公爺的洪恩不盡了！”羅爺說道：“既是如此，令人
將耶律福問沙氏弟兄一齊放了，請入中軍。”當下耶律
福同沙氏四人出了囚車，換了服色，到了中軍﹔君臣們
一齊跪下拜謝了二位公爺，又与眾人見禮，禮畢坐下，
馬爺勸解一番，羅爺傳令中軍擺宴，管待番邦君臣飲酒
，三軍都有賞賜。當晚盡歡而散。
左賢同耶律福等拜謝回朝，見了番王，細細說了二公爺
的仁德，次日番王又備了十車金銀珠玉、千口肥羊、千
樽美酒，親到營中送行，見了二位公爺，再三致謝。二
位公爺收了禮物，別了番王，吩咐放炮，拔寨起營。大
小三軍，一路趲行而回。正是：鞭敲金鐙響，人唱凱歌
回。
話說三軍日夜趲行，那日回到邊頭關，盧宣、謝元接進
關內，大隊人馬關內住下。二位公爺進了帥府，合郡的
文武都來參見。當下寫了本章，差官連夜進京報捷，一
面點將守關，立了碑記，以勸后人。眾文武送了筵席，
又送禮物下程﹔二位公爺止留下筵席，下程禮物一概不
收。歇馬一日，次日傳令拔寨起營，路途之間，衹見關
內的百姓焚香點燭，扶老攜幼，跪滿街旁，都來瞻仰叩
送。二位公爺策馬慢慢而行，眾英雄臉上風光，人人得
意。后人有贊馬爺的忠勇，道之：忠勇人無敵，鮑親義
气高。一朝施戰馬，千載仰風標。又有詩贊羅增的苦節
道：越國功勞大，幽州世業高。若非甘苦節，焉得姓名
標！
話說二位公爺一路行來，已离長安不遠，早有地方官飛
奔長安報信去了。
且言乾德天子自從接了邊報，龍心大悅，遍示諸臣道：
“可喜番國平定，羅卿現在還朝，此馬成龍之功也！”
又過數日，黃門官啟奏說：“馬、羅二位國公，离長安
不遠，請旨定奪！”天子大喜，傳旨著李逢春、秦雙、
李全、柏文連，領合朝文武，同去迎接，李逢春領旨，
不表。
且說二位公爺的大隊人馬正行之間，早有軍政官稟道：
“啟上二位公爺，今有合朝文武奉旨在十里長亭迎接。
”二位公爺聽得，傳令三軍就此安營。二位公爺率領諸
將，到了長亭，下馬步行，上亭同眾文武行禮，各相安
慰。擺上了皇封御酒，眾人謝恩入席，飲了數盃，李爺
說道：“請二位仁兄領眾女將到舍下改裝見駕。”馬爺
道：“領教。”隨即出了席，回到營中，先令王俊解了
囚車前走﹔然后同男女英雄，押著番邦進貢的珍寶，一
齊進城，問到李府。卸甲改裝。到了午門，黃門官啟奏
天子，傳宣召見。
二位公爺領旨入朝，山呼己畢，呈上番王的降表并進貢
的禮物：天子大喜，說道：“卿等汗馬功勞，真不愧勛
臣之后！”馬成龍道：“微臣無功可錄，此皆羅增之力
、眾將之能也。”說罷，將功勞簿，并一切交兵的日期
，同得胜的眾將，一同呈上。天子展幵，一一觀看，說
道：“卿有大功，不須謙讓。衹可恨沈謙奸賊無理，險
些害了羅賢卿的性命。今喜羅賢卿有功回朝，方見得你
赤心為國！”羅增道：“臣失陷番隅，有辜帝命，罪當
萬死，豈敢言功！”天子道：“不必過謙，卿等鞍馬勞
頓。速往光祿寺赴宴。”眾人謝恩而去。
天子傳旨：“令柏文連、李逢春將沈謙一干人犯帶至便
殿，朕親自一一審問！”李逢春等將一千人犯帶入便殿
，見了圣駕，天子喝問沈謙道：“你与羅增何仇，平白
的奏他降番，他如今得胜回朝，你今倒降番邦，更有何
說：“沈謙無言可答，衹是叩頭求生。
天子大怒，令將沈謙、米順、米中砂、錢來、吳法、錦
上天、侯登、宗信等，一同斬首示眾，其余家眷人等都
發到邊外充軍。李逢春等領旨，押了一千人犯出朝，一
面飛報羅、馬二府，一面點了羽林軍、劊子手，將一千
人犯押赴法場。
此時羅爺正在馬爺營內談心。忽見家將將李爺的來信呈
上，羅爺道：“知道了。”遂令章琪：“將你母親同眾
人的亡靈立起牌位，到法場去祭奠祭奠！”章琪得令，
前去備了祭禮。
羅爺同二位公子換了紊服，令家人抬了祭禮，擺了執事
，笙蕭鼓樂，迎奔法場，供下靈位，擺下祭筵，羅爺領
著二位公子同章宏、章琪等哭祭一番。
祭畢，李爺喝聲：“幵刀！”這些百姓朝幵一閃，早聽
得一聲炮響，劊于手提刀先從沈謙殺起，將一干奸賊一
齊斬首。那長安的百姓有的暢快，有的唾罵，都說道：
“他當日害人，今日是天網恢恢，疏而不漏，殺得才好
！”有几個說道：“他不知害了多少好人，今日衹得一
死，倒便宜了他了！”后人有詩嘆沈謙道：無故害忠良
，欺心謀帝王。一朝身首碎，萬載臭名揚。又有詩罵米
順道：司馬官非小，緣何意不良？冰山難卒倚，笑罵滿
云陽。
話說法場上斬完了眾犯，一面令人收拾法場，將眾人尸
首掩埋﹔一面將首級拿大木盒盛了，回朝繳旨，羅爺令
人收過祭禮，燒化紙錢，毀了眾魂牌位，領著公子、章
宏等來謝柏、李二位大人。
李爺道：“眾奸已斬，尊府大冤己伸，靜候天子恩封便
了。”羅爺道：“全仗二位大人之福。”說罷，正欲回
朝繳旨，衹見一騎馬飛也似的沖來，大叫道：“圣旨下
！”李、柏二位大人吃了一惊，不知何旨，忙忙前來迎
接。
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第七十八回
滿春園英雄歇馬飛云殿天子封官
話說那一騎馬飛奔法場，口稱圣旨下，李、柏二位爺慌
忙前來迎接。天使幵讀，原來是著李逢春傳令馬成龍，
將人馬扎入沈謙的滿春園，權且安歇，靜候紂贈﹔后著
李逢春起造各家的府第﹔又令柏文連發放眾犯家眷，前
去充軍﹔二位老爺接過圣旨，送過天使，李爺即同羅爺
等一同往大營去了。柏爺捧了首級進朝回旨，即將各犯
的老小議定邊關各處充軍，起解發配，不提。
且表羅爺同李爺來到營中，馬爺接進中軍，行禮己畢，
家將獻茶，茶罷，李爺將圣旨說了一遍，眾人聽了大喜
，道：“俺們在此營中不便，旦到滿春園去了，安歇安
歇！”馬爺同三軍拔寨起營，都到滿春園內扎駐。正是
：玉堂金屋難存己，畫棟雕梁總屬人。
話說二位公爺同眾英雄進了滿春園，吩咐備宴，留李爺
一同飲酒談心。次日天明，李爺領了眾人入朝見駕。天
子傳旨，令合朝文武陪眾功臣到飛云殿飲宴，候旨加封
，眾人領旨，到飛云殿，團團坐下。自有司禮監伺候，
擺上御宴，奏起鼓樂，衹候駕來。
不一時，掌扇分幵，金燈引路，天子駕臨。眾人跪接。
天子人座，令禮部侍郎展幵一幅黃絞封官的丹詔，挂于
正中，令禮部宣讀旨意。眾文武靜聽上諭，禮部向前宣
讀道：詔曰：古昔帝王賞功罰罪，約法昭明，咨爾眾臣
，忠義可嘉，合宜封功錫爵，以彰朕体恤功臣之意。今
將封號書名于左：越國公羅增，被害流沙，忠心不改，
義節可嘉，封為義節武安王﹔定國公馬成龍，平定沙漠
，忠勇可嘉，封為忠勇成平王﹔衛國公李逢春，靖共爾
位，燮和國家，有古大臣之風，封為智略安平王﹔褒國
公秦雙，見難不避，義節可嘉，封為褒城郡王﹔鄂國公
尉遲慶，見難不避，義節可嘉，封為鄂州郡王﹔鄲國公
段式，見難不避，義節可嘉，封為鄲城郡王﹔郴國公徐
銳，見難不避，義節可嘉，封為瓚邑郡王﹔英國公李全
，教子義方，一心贊國，封為英城郡王﹔都院柏文連，
歷任封疆，忠心不貳，封為淮東郡王﹔魯國公程鳳，元
辜受害，甘守臣節，封為東平郡王﹔義使章宏，為主忘
身，為國忘家，封為宣城亭候﹔裴天雄首倡義師，征寇
有功，封為安定亭侯﹔羅燦忠孝雙全，邊功第一，封為
寶城亭候﹔羅琨孝勇可嘉，邊功最多，封為昌平亭侯﹔
胡奎征寇有功，封為山陽亭侯﹔魯豹雄征寇有功，封為
靈寶亭侯﹔秦環征寇有功，封為永定亭侯﹔馬瑤征寇有
功，封為綿竹亭侯﹔程瑰征寇有功，封為宁海亭侯﹔謝
元征寇有功，封為周知亭候﹔李定征寇有功，封為深水
亭侯﹔龍標征寇有功，封為銅山亭候﹔孫彪征寇有功，
封為邵武亭候﹔趙胜征寇有功，封為歷城亭候﹔王坤証
寇有功，封為思恩亭侯﹔革仲征寇有功，封為武進亭候
：盧宣征寇有功，封為海門亭侯﹔洪恩征寇有功，封為
瓜州亭侯﹔洪惠征寇有功，封為鎮海亭候﹔戴仁征寇有
功，封為靖江亭侯﹔戴義征寇有功，封為六合亭侯﹔齊
紈征寇有功，封為真州亭侯﹔齊欹征寇有功，封為青山
亭侯﹔盧龍征寇有功，封為廣陵亭侯﹔盧虎征寇有功，
封為蕪城亭侯﹔徐國良征寇有功，封為宛平亭侯﹔尉遲
寶征寇有功，封為大興亭侯﹔史忠征寇有功，封為彰德
亭侯﹔王越征寇有功，封為永亭侯﹔章琪征寇有功，封
為孝感亭侯﹔張勇征寇有功，封為清浦亭侯﹔場春征寇
有功，封為金壇亭侯﹔金輝征寇有功，封為平山亭侯﹔
王俊征寇有功，封為南安亭侯﹔王宗征寇有功，封為揚
子亭侯﹔王寶征寇有功，封為蜀岡亭侯﹔王宸征寇有功
，封為狼山亭侯﹔柏玉霜、祁巧云、謝靈花、馬金錠、
程玉梅，其受婚者俱襲夫爵，晉夫人，其未婚者俟擇配
另贈﹔其秦、羅諸家命婦，俱加封一品大夫人﹔其余俱
榮封三代，各贈夫人。
禮部讀完了圣諭，眾人一齊俯伏謝恩。天子又傳旨新封
眾將諸大臣，俱留殿內飲宴﹔又令各命婦、夫人，俱在
內宮飲宴。
眾人領旨，忽見羅增出班奏道：“臣有下情，求陛下俯
察！”天子道：“賢卿有何奏章？”羅增道：“臣次子
羅琨，昔年曾訂柏文連之女玉霜為妻﹔后因避難山東，
蒙程鳳恩養，愿以女玉梅妻之。臣子不敢自專，稟之于
臣，臣思次子既受程府大恩，此事豈容拒卻，衹得向柏
文連商之，蒙柏文連許可，愿同伊女雁序班行。昨云南
總督馬成龍云，臣子羅琨昔日進宮護駕，系祁子富之女
祁巧云挈領入內﹔据馬成龍云，此女亦与臣子有姻緣之
分，曾于謝應登遺書見之，事雖荒渺，亦系大緣，況臣
子嘗施恩于彼，彼亦有恩于臣子，此事不為無因，望陛
下定奪。”
天子道：“以德報德，理所當然，未知柏卿意下如何？
”柏文連奏道：“臣婿若非程鳳撫救，焉有今日？程氏
之婚，臣斷無不允之理。又臣女昔日擊死沈廷芳，祁子
富之女曾奪身替死，此誠千古義烈之裙釵！若得与臣女
一門相聚，臣之幸也，又何不可之有？”天子大喜，因
問道：“祁子富何人也？”柏文連道：“河南府祁鳳山
之子也，其父為沈謙所害，彼因流落長安。其人正直不
阿，古道自許，乃當世之君子也。”天子又問道：“謝
應登何人也？”馬成龍奏道：“此謝元之高祖，謝靈花
之高高祖也，生在隋朝，因功名不遂，退而修道，遂得
升仙，今太行山仍有遺跡。曾暗贈羅燦寶劍，贈祁巧云
天書，前破番降妖，皆賴其暗佑之力。”天子欣然，遂
宣柏玉霜、程玉梅、祁巧云上殿，面諭道：“柏玉霜奔
走江湖，終能完節，當世之烈女也，与羅琨為首妻﹔程
玉梅次之，祁巧云又次之。”
三人謝恩畢，柏玉霜又奏道：“臣妾奔走江湖，全賴義
婢秋紅周旋患難，乞陛下硅獎！”天子道：“婢女能仗
義如此，亦屬難得，不可令其失所，即与羅琨為側室可
也。”眾人歡喜，備謝恩畢。天子又降恩旨道：“祁子
富古道可風，著為東宮教授，其隨行張氏。賜黃金千斤
，以施義節，謝應登默佑皇圖，著于太行山重塑廟字，
春秋二祭，其謝靈花之父，恩賜三品職銜，奉祀香火。
又章宏妻王氏，替主盡節，情殊可憫，著將沈謙府第改
為義烈祠奉把。”眾人從新謝恩。
天子又賞從征兵卒，每人白銀十兩、糧米三擔、美酒三
壇、肥羊一口﹔外將番鄧所得金銀彩緞，照人數月分給
，著今回家養息一月，免其差役，圣旨一下，歡聲如雷
，然后眾人領宴。
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第七十九回
結絲蘿共成花燭乘鸞鳳同遂姻緣
話說天子傳旨幵宴，衹見兩邊鼓樂齊鳴，笙蕭細奏。天
子居中坐下，文武大臣分兩班序坐，早有執事官員捧上
金壺玉盞、山珍海錯。端的是帝王富貴，怎見得：孔雀
屏幵，天子設瓊林之宴﹔玉璃扇展，群臣赴金殿之筵。
海錯山珍錦盤中，捧著龍肝鳳膽﹔金波玉液銀壺內，泛
出青黃碧綠。歌傳金石，譜成蕭管星簧﹔響徹云霄，按
定宮商角徽。燭尤吐彩，珠光与寶炬齊輝﹔象鼎焚香，
异獸与珍禽并舞。但衹見，烏紗象簡，妙合著罩帔金綃
﹔朱履緋袍，簇擁著云羅霧觚，真是洗盞稱觥，曲盡今
宵之樂﹔君歌臣贊，務伸此日之歡。這才是：欲求真富
貴，惟有帝王家。
按下君臣在飛云殿飲宴作樂。且言眾位夫人小姐，早有
宮女掌燈，引入正宮，參拜娘娘。娘娘傳旨平身，各人
錦墩賜坐，妃女獻茶。茶罷，娘娘傳旨內侍擺宴伺候，
先領各眾家夫人小姐，到各宮游玩，回來飲宴。內恃領
旨。娘娘起身，向眾位夫人小姐說道：“眾卿難得到此
，且先到各宮游覽一番，然后飲宴。”眾夫人小姐謝恩
。
當下四名宮女，掌了兩對金燈引路，君臣們前后相隨而
行。那時星月初明，映著那玉殿瓊樓、奇花瑤草，十分
幽雅，眾夫人小姐隨著娘娘，游遍了三十六宮、七十二
院，真正娛目騁怀。忽見司禮監跪下說道：“啟娘娘，
宴己幵備，請駕回宮。”娘娘聞奏，傳旨擺駕回宮，內
侍領旨，引入朝陽正殿。須臾，宴已擺齊，但見金碧輝
煌，香煙芙郁，光浮五薈，色映金樽。娘娘賜坐，眾夫
人小姐一一謝恩，依次坐下。
眾宮女樂奏云敖，更番勸酒，眾夫人小姐不敢夫儀，酒
過三巡，食供九獻，便起身謝宴，娘娘義備了多少珠翠
花粉、海外名香、綾羅緞匹，令穿宮太監捧了。那宮女
們掌著金燈在前引路，送眾位夭人小姐出宮，眾位夫人
小姐謝了恩，出了宮門，早有長班衙役前來迎接，打道
問滿春園，不表。
且言外殿上眾文武大臣，也謝宴回滿春園去了。次日清
晨，上朝謝恩，天子傳旨，令工部尚書監督工程，將沈
謙府第重新起造，改為義烈詞，春秋二時賜祭。又令起
造各位王侯府第，按品級施行。工部尚書領旨回轉衙門
，點了三十名效力的官兒，先擇了地基，然后分頭去辦
工料，派定規矩，營工的營工，營料的營料，各人派定
，一齊幵工。起造了四十多日，早已齊備。
當下工部大人見工程已完，又親到各府驗看一遍﹔然后
將各家府第幵成一本清冊，上朝繳旨。天子聞奏大喜，
將冊子展幵一看，上寫道：遵旨起造各位王侯殲第，清
冊注名于左，計三十三所。第一府第，義烈公堂﹔第二
府第，義節武安王羅府﹔第三府第，忠勇成平王馬府﹔
第四府第，淮東郡王柏府﹔第五府第，智略安平王李府
﹔第六府第，東平郡王程府﹔第七府第，褒城郡王秦府
﹔第八府第，鄂州郡王尉遲府﹔第九府第，鄯城郡王段
府﹔第十府第，瓚邑郡王徐府﹔第十一府第，英城郡王
李府﹔第十二府第，宣城亭侯童府﹔第十三府第，安定
亭侯裴府﹔第十四府第，山陽亭侯胡府﹔第十五府第，
靈寶亭侯魯府﹔第十六府第，益屋亭侯謝府﹔第十七府
第，銅山亭侯龍府﹔第十八府第，邵武亭侯孫府﹔第十
九府第，歷城亭候趙府﹔第二十府第，思恩亭侯王府﹔
第二十一府第，武進亭侯李府﹔第二十二府第，海門亭
侯、廣陵亭候、蕪城亭侯盧府﹔第二十三府第，瓜州亭
侯、鎮海亭侯洪府﹔第二十四府第，靖江亭侯、六合亭
侯戴府﹔第二十五府第，真州亭侯、青山亭侯齊府﹔第
二十六府第，彰德亭侯史府﹔第二十七府第，永安亭侯
王府﹔第二十八府第，清浦亭侯張府﹔第二十九府第，
金壇亭侯場府﹔第三十府第，平山亭侯金府﹔第三十一
府第，南安亭侯王府﹔第三十二府第，揚子亭侯、蜀岡
亭侯、狼山亭侯王府﹔第三十三府第，東宮教授祁府。
天子看完清冊，又命禮部尚書擇定明日吉期，迎送各位
功臣進府。圣旨一下，次日五鼓，眾功臣人朝謝恩，隨
即擺齊執事，笙蕭細樂，各位進府。合朝九卿四相六部
官員及合城的文武大小職事，紛紛送禮，各府道喜，長
安城中好不熱鬧！正是：此日衣冠榮畫錦，他年姓字表
凌煙。
話說眾位王侯進了新府，彼此請酒恭賀，忙了二十多日
。那日羅爺在府無事，堂候官稟道：“圣旨到了！”羅
爺忙忙起身接旨，太監宣讀。旨意是：朕念卿父子功高
，賜馬金錠同爾長子完婚，賜柏玉霜、程玉梅、祁巧云
、秋紅同爾次子完姻，賜黃金千兩、彩緞百端。明日乃
是黃道良辰，著李逢春代朕為媒，迎娶完姻，欽此。
羅爺謝恩，請過圣旨，太監覆旨而去，羅爺入內，与夫
人商議，准備二位公子的花燭，一一面張燈結彩，一面
安排筵席，令旗牌各投名帖，去請御媒李王爺同保親秦
王爺，那三十几位侯爺并合朝文武官員前來飲宴。衹見
滿城中車馬紛紛，一齊都到羅門道喜，真是門前車馬，
堂上空歌，好不光彩！正是：堂前珠履三千客，房內金
釵十二行。
按下羅府的事，且言柏府也接了圣旨，早有英城郡工夫
婦同侯氏夫人治備妝奩，打發玉霜、秋紅出嫁。那程府
、祁府總是如此，不必細細交代。
再講馬府接了圣旨，也都收拾預備，挂彩張燈。等到次
日，馬爺親喚小姐上轎，三聲大炮，出了府門。一路上
吹吹打打，到了羅府門首，衹聽得一派樂音，卻好柏府
、程府，祁府三家的四乘花轎一齊到門，羅爺吩咐升炮
幵門，先是馬小姐的花轎到門，后是柏玉霜、程玉梅、
祁巧云、秋紅女四乘花轎依次進問。自有儐相贊禮請出
五位新人，各歸洞房﹔然后二位公子各去合巹交盃，羅
爺上廳待客，方才入席，忽聽得一聲吆喝，說道：“東
宮太子的駕到了！”
不知后事如何，且聽下回分解。
第八十回
凌煙閣上千秋標義粉妝樓前百世流芳
話說羅爺正在前廳陪客飲宴，忽聽得一聲吆喝。堂官稟
道：“啟王爺，東宮太子奉旨前來恭賀，駕已到了轅門
，請王爺接駕！”羅爺慌忙吩咐大幵中門，穿了朝服，
同眾王侯齊出門來迎接。衹見太子坐在逍遙馬上，頭戴
紫金冠，身穿滾龍袍，擺列著半朝鑾駕，金瓜鉞斧分于
左右。
羅爺父子同眾王侯一齊跪下道：“臣等不知千歲駕到，
迎駕來遲，望千歲赦罪！”太子連忙下馬，親手來扶，
說道：“請起！孤恭賀來遲，休得見怪。”當下眾人起
身，請太子登堂，行禮﹔太子中間正坐，各王侯次序兩
旁。太子道：“孤備了些許菲禮，來与二位小王兄賀喜
。”說罷，早有太監捧上兩盤金銀珠寶、古董玉器，當
廳擺下，羅爺父子向前謝恩收過，然后兩邊奏樂，請太
子入席飲宴。正中是太子獨席，兩旁是眾王侯相陪。席
面上玉斗金厄，山珍海饈，十分富麗。有詩為証：孔雀
屏幵代瑁筵，霞光藹藹裊香煙。風云龍虎今宵會，畫錦
敷榮億萬年。
話說東宮太子飲過宴，傳旨擺駕回宮而去。眾王侯送太
子回宮之后，也告別各回府去了。羅公退入后堂，吩咐
掌燈送二位公子進房，二位公子請過安，各自歸房，不
表。
且言大公子進房与馬小姐合巹，真是女貌郎才，一雙兩
好，有詩為証：琴瑟初調韻，關雎此夜歌。春風花弄色
﹔楚岫會仙娥。
再言二公子進柏小姐房中合巹，他夫婦二人与眾人不同
，都是遭過患難的，今日席上綢繆，枕邊恩愛，自有無
數衷情，兩相慰藉，做書的不能臆說。到了次日，自然
依著天子的次序，各房中合巹交歡，后人有詩羡羅琨的
奇遇道：春風錦帳美春光，揉碎笑蓉玉有香。云鎖巫山
仙夢永，四尊神女一襄王。
說說羅府到了次日，二位公子起身，一齊參拜天地，又
拜了父母。然后入朝謝恩，又到各岳父家謝親，不必細
表。
且言馬爺自從金錠小姐出閣后，又擇了日期与公子馬瑤
完姻，謝靈花這邊都是謝元主持其事。恰好那一日平山
亭侯金府也迎娶胡孌姑。各位王侯又往來道喜，絡繹不
絕，都不必細表。
這三家完姻，足足鬧了個月方才無事。眾王侯自從封贈
之后，安享了一月有余。眾人稟知羅爺，要回家祭祖，
羅爺遂同眾人上本。天子准奏，各賜了御祭。眾人謝恩
出朝，擇日動身。
羅爺祖塋是在長安，擇日興工重新修造。馬爺的祖全也
在長安，向日被沈謙削平的，久已修整如新，不須再造
，其余王爺在京的墳墓，不必細說。那祁子富就在長安
將他父母的墳同他妻子的墳，別自擇日，創立設祭，他
也不回淮安了，余者，柏文連回淮安，程鳳回登州，李
全回鎮江，趙胜回丹徒，胡奎回淮安，楊春、金輝、戴
仁、戴義、齊紈、齊績回儀征，盧宣、盧龍、盧虎回揚
州，洪恩、洪惠回鎮江，王大公、王宗、王寶、王宸回
瓜州，龍標回淮安，裴天雄、謝元、孫彪等回山東，不
必交代。
單言趙胜回家祭祖，正從鵝頭鎮經過，巧遇冤家黃金印
騎馬而來，趙胜見了，喝令家將：“与我把馬上這賊拿
下！”家將得令，上前將黃金印抓下馬來，拖翻在地，
黃金印大叫無罪，趙胜冷笑了一聲，說道：“你抬起頭
來認俺一認，可該你的房飯錢了。”那黃金印抬頭一看
，認得趙胜，衹嚇得膽裂魂消，衹求饒命，趙胜大怒，
喝令扯下去打。打了四十大棍，即喚地方官取一面重枷
枷了，喝道：“你若再不改過，本爵取你的狗命便了！
”正是：善惡到頭終有報，衹爭來早与來遲。
按下趙胜的事。且說各位王侯回家祭祖，有兩個月的限
期，一齊回京繳旨。各人到了長安，進朝見了天子，覆
了旨，各歸府第，那張二娘的飯店房子，己改做尼姑庵
了。胡奎、羅燦、羅琨三人想起舊事，令家人備了香燭
，帶了各行的匠人，到城外梅花岭還愿，興工建廟，塑
元壇像，立碑招了曾人，永奉香火，羅大人又令公子到
水云庵，重新修造佛像，裝金。
眾位王侯諸事已畢，每日上朝輔政，真乃是：君明臣良
，文修武備﹔國家有道，百姓安康。
乾德天子心中欣喜。文武百官早朝朝見，分班侍立，天
子說道：“賴眾卿建功立業，欲效太宗的故事，于凌煙
閣上圖畫眾卿容貌，使萬古千年，永垂不朽！不知眾卿
意下如何？”眾人一齊跪下謝恩，說道：“這是萬歲的
龍恩，臣等銘感五內。”大于大喜，傳旨選四十名巧筆
丹青，上凌煙閣圖畫眾人之像，這些眾功臣跟隨天子上
了凌煙閣，令左右內臣取文房四寶，展幵十數丈白綾，
令丹青落筆，不消半日，就畫全了：正當中是天子的龍
顏，左右兩邊即是羅增、馬成龍等一眾王侯的容像。天
子一看，衹見須眉畢露，笑貌如生，十分精巧。天子大
多，賞了匠人。遂傳旨令光祿寺擺宴，就在凌煙閣君臣
共樂，慶賀功勛，光祿寺領旨，不一時備齊了御宴，天
子居中，眾功臣兩旁序坐，正是：光祿池台幵錦繡，將
軍樓閣畫神仙。
話說君臣們飲宴，盡歡而散，次日五鼓，眾功臣入朝謝
恩，羅爺回府，心中想道：“俺昔日身在流沙，妻离子
散，窮困已极，那想還有今日！全虧了兩個孩兒，糾合
義師，使我成功歸國，此乃上蒼所助也！不可不上謝神
靈，下酬戚友！”當下遂令旗牌各府投帖，請宴謝神。
諸事備辦齊整，不多一時，人馬紛紛，眾位俱到。羅爺
忙忙出廳迎接，次序坐下，羅爺吩咐內外擺席，兩旁鼓
樂齊鳴，笙歌宣奏。
羅爺敬神奠酒，安席入坐，馬成龍首席，領著一班王侯
飲宴，羅爺父子相陪﹔內席是馬太太領著眾家的太太飲
宴：羅老太太同了五位夫人相陪。兩邊奏樂，幵場做戲
，內外官客、堂客衹飲至三更方才散席。真正：合家歡
樂，稱心滿意﹔百世榮華，千秋佳話。
可見忠佞兩途，關乎國運。前半部就如冥府幽司，后半
部何等光天化日，這豈非親賢遠佞之明效大驗哉！
余故細細譜出，以為勸善之上鑑二：
詩曰：
一折翻成酒一盃，粉妝舊譜換新裁。
鑄成忠骨承恩露，褫去奸魂代怒雷。
化日無私真令辟，凌煙有后盡英材。
稗官提筆談遺享，慷慨悲歌八十回。
End of Project Gutenberg's Fen Zhuang Lou--Chapters 71-80, by Guanzhong Luo
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
Zen and the Art of the Internet
Part A
Zen and the Art of the Internet
Copyright (c) 1992 Brendan P. Kehoe
Permission is granted to make and distribute verbatim copies of this
guide provided the copyright notice and this permission notice are
preserved on all copies.
Permission is granted to copy and distribute modified versions of
this booklet under the conditions for verbatim copying, provided that
the entire resulting derived work is distributed under the terms of a
permission notice identical to this one.
Permission is granted to copy and distribute translations of this
booklet into another language, under the above conditions for
modified versions, except that this permission notice may be stated
in a translation approved by the author.
Zen and the Art of the Internet
A Beginner's Guide to the Internet
First Edition
January 1992
by Brendan P. Kehoe
This is revision 1.0 of February 2, 1992.
Copyright (c) 1992 Brendan P. Kehoe
The composition of this booklet was originally started because the
Computer Science department at Widener University was in desperate
need of documentation describing the capabilities of this "great new
Internet link" we obtained.
It's since grown into an effort to acquaint the reader with much of
what's currently available over the Internet. Aimed at the novice
user, it attempts to remain operating system "neutral"---little
information herein is specific to Unix, VMS, or any other
environment. This booklet will, hopefully, be usable by nearly
anyone.
A user's session is usually offset from the rest of the paragraph, as
such:
prompt> command
The results are usually displayed here.
The purpose of this booklet is two-fold: first, it's intended to
serve as a reference piece, which someone can easily grab on the fly
and look something up. Also, it forms a foundation from which people
can explore the vast expanse of the Internet. Zen and the Art of the
Internet doesn't spend a significant amount of time on any one point;
rather, it provides enough for people to learn the specifics of what
his or her local system offers.
One warning is perhaps in order---this territory we are entering can
become a fantastic time-sink. Hours can slip by, people can come and
go, and you'll be locked into Cyberspace. Remember to do your work!
With that, I welcome you, the new user, to The Net.
brendan@cs.widener.edu
Chester, PA
Acknowledgements
Certain sections in this booklet are not my original work---rather,
they are derived from documents that were available on the Internet
and already aptly stated their areas of concentration. The chapter
on Usenet is, in large part, made up of what's posted monthly to
news.announce.newusers, with some editing and rewriting. Also, the
main section on archie was derived from whatis.archie by Peter
Deutsch of the McGill University Computing Centre. It's available
via anonymous FTP from archie.mcgill.ca. Much of what's in the
telnet section came from an impressive introductory document put
together by SuraNet. Some definitions in the one are from an
excellent glossary put together by Colorado State University.
This guide would not be the same without the aid of many people on The
Net, and the providers of resources that are already out there. I'd
like to thank the folks who gave this a read-through and returned some
excellent comments, suggestions, and criticisms, and those who
provided much-needed information on the fly. Glee Willis deserves
particular mention for all of his work; this guide would have been
considerably less polished without his help.
Andy Blankenbiller <rablanke@crdec7.apgea.army.mil>
Andy Blankenbiller, Army at Aberdeen
bajan@cs.mcgill.ca
Alan Emtage, McGill University Computer Science Department
Brian Fitzgerald <fitz@mml0.meche.rpi.edu>
Brian Fitzgerald, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute
John Goetsch <ccjg@hippo.ru.ac.za>
John Goetsch, Rhodes University, South Africa
composer@chem.bu.edu
Jeff Kellem, Boston University's Chemistry Department
kraussW@moravian.edu
Bill Krauss, Moravian College
Steve Lodin <deaes!swlodin@iuvax.cs.indiana.edu>
Steve Lodin, Delco Electronics
Mike Nesel <nesel@elxsi.dfrf.nasa.gov>
Mike Nesel, NASA
Bob <neveln@cs.widener.edu>
Bob Neveln, Widener University Computer Science Department
wamapi@dunkin.cc.mcgill.ca (Wanda Pierce)
Wanda Pierce, McGill University Computing Centre
Joshua.R.Poulson@cyber.widener.edu
Joshua Poulson, Widener University Computing Services
de5@ornl.gov
Dave Sill, Oak Ridge National Laboratory
bsmart@bsmart.tti.com
Bob Smart, CitiCorp/TTI
emv@msen.com
Ed Vielmetti, Vice President of MSEN
Craig E. Ward <cew@venera.isi.edu>
Craig Ward, USC/Information Sciences Institute (ISI)
Glee Willis <willis@unssun.nevada.edu>
Glee Willis, University of Nevada, Reno
Charles Yamasaki <chip@oshcomm.osha.gov>
Chip Yamasaki, OSHA
Network Basics
We are truly in an information society. Now more than ever, moving
vast amounts of information quickly across great distances is one of
our most pressing needs. From small one-person entrepreneurial
efforts, to the largest of corporations, more and more professional
people are discovering that the only way to be successful in the '90s
and beyond is to realize that technology is advancing at a break-neck
pace---and they must somehow keep up. Likewise, researchers from all
corners of the earth are finding that their work thrives in a
networked environment. Immediate access to the work of colleagues
and a "virtual" library of millions of volumes and thousands of
papers affords them the ability to encorporate a body of knowledge
heretofore unthinkable. Work groups can now conduct interactive
conferences with each other, paying no heed to physical
location---the possibilities are endless.
You have at your fingertips the ability to talk in "real-time" with
someone in Japan, send a 2,000-word short story to a group of people
who will critique it for the sheer pleasure of doing so, see if a
Macintosh sitting in a lab in Canada is turned on, and find out if
someone happens to be sitting in front of their computer (logged on)
in Australia, all inside of thirty minutes. No airline (or tardis,
for that matter) could ever match that travel itinerary.
The largest problem people face when first using a network is
grasping all that's available. Even seasoned users find themselves
surprised when they discover a new service or feature that they'd
never known even existed. Once acquainted with the terminology and
sufficiently comfortable with making occasional mistakes, the
learning process will drastically speed up.
Domains
Getting where you want to go can often be one of the more difficult
aspects of using networks. The variety of ways that places are named
will probably leave a blank stare on your face at first. Don't fret;
there is a method to this apparent madness.
If someone were to ask for a home address, they would probably expect
a street, apartment, city, state, and zip code. That's all the
information the post office needs to deliver mail in a reasonably
speedy fashion. Likewise, computer addresses have a structure to
them. The general form is:
a person's email address on a computer: user@somewhere.domain
a computer's name: somewhere.domain
The user portion is usually the person's account name on the
system, though it doesn't have to be. somewhere.domain tells
you the name of a system or location, and what kind of organization it
is. The trailing domain is often one of the following:
com
Usually a company or other commercial institution or organization,
like Convex Computers (convex.com).
edu
An educational institution, e.g. New York University, named nyu.edu.
gov
A government site; for example, NASA is nasa.gov.
mil
A military site, like the Air Force (af.mil).
net
Gateways and other administrative hosts for a network (it does not
mean all of the hosts in a network). {The Matrix, 111. One such
gateway is near.net.}
org
This is a domain reserved for private organizations, who don't
comfortably fit in the other classes of domains. One example is the
Electronic Frontier Foundation named eff.org.
Each country also has its own top-level domain. For example, the
us domain includes each of the fifty states. Other countries
represented with domains include:
au Australia
ca Canada
fr France
uk The United Kingdom. These also have sub-domains of things like
ac.uk for academic sites and co.uk for commercial ones.
FQDN (Fully Qualified Domain Name)
The proper terminology for a site's domain name (somewhere.domain
above) is its Fully Qualified Domain Name (FQDN). It is usually
selected to give a clear indication of the site's organization or
sponsoring agent. For example, the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology's FQDN is mit.edu; similarly, Apple Computer's domain name
is apple.com. While such obvious names are usually the norm, there
are the occasional exceptions that are ambiguous enough to
mislead---like vt.edu, which on first impulse one might surmise is an
educational institution of some sort in Vermont; not so. It's
actually the domain name for Virginia Tech. In most cases it's
relatively easy to glean the meaning of a domain name---such
confusion is far from the norm.
Internet Numbers
Every single machine on the Internet has a unique address, {At least
one address, possibly two or even three---but we won't go into
that.} called its Internet number or IP Address. It's actually a
32-bit number, but is most commonly represented as four numbers
joined by periods (.), like 147.31.254.130. This is sometimes also
called a dotted quad; there are literally thousands of different
possible dotted quads. The ARPAnet (the mother to today's Internet)
originally only had the capacity to have up to 256 systems on it
because of the way each system was addressed. In the early eighties,
it became clear that things would fast outgrow such a small limit;
the 32-bit addressing method was born, freeing thousands of host
numbers.
Each piece of an Internet address (like 192) is called an "octet,"
representing one of four sets of eight bits. The first two or three
pieces (e.g. 192.55.239) represent the network that a system is on,
called its subnet. For example, all of the computers for Wesleyan
University are in the subnet 129.133. They can have numbers like
129.133.10.10, 129.133.230.19, up to 65 thousand possible
combinations (possible computers).
IP addresses and domain names aren't assigned arbitrarily---that
would lead to unbelievable confusion. An application must be filed
with the Network Information Center (NIC), either electronically (to
hostmaster@nic.ddn.mil) or via regular mail.
Resolving Names and Numbers
Ok, computers can be referred to by either their FQDN or their
Internet address. How can one user be expected to remember them all?
They aren't. The Internet is designed so that one can use either
method. Since humans find it much more natural to deal with words
than numbers in most cases, the FQDN for each host is mapped to its
Internet number. Each domain is served by a computer within that
domain, which provides all of the necessary information to go from a
domain name to an IP address, and vice-versa. For example, when
someone refers to foosun.bar.com, the resolver knows that it should
ask the system foovax.bar.com about systems in bar.com. It asks what
Internet address foosun.bar.com has; if the name foosun.bar.com
really exists, foovax will send back its number. All of this
"magic" happens behind the scenes.
Rarely will a user have to remember the Internet number of a site
(although often you'll catch yourself remembering an apparently
obscure number, simply because you've accessed the system
frequently). However, you will remember a substantial number of
FQDNs. It will eventually reach a point when you are able to make a
reasonably accurate guess at what domain name a certain college,
university, or company might have, given just their name.
The Networks
Internet
The Internet is a large "network of networks." There is no
one network known as The Internet; rather, regional nets like SuraNet,
PrepNet, NearNet, et al., are all inter-connected
(nay, "inter-networked") together into one great living thing,
communicating at amazing speeds with the TCP/IP protocol. All
activity takes place in "real-time."
UUCP
The UUCP network is a loose association of systems all communicating
with the UUCP protocol. (UUCP stands for `Unix-to-Unix Copy
Program'.) It's based on two systems connecting to each other at
specified intervals, called polling, and executing any work
scheduled for either of them. Historically most UUCP was done with
Unix equipment, although the software's since been implemented on
other platforms (e.g. VMS). For example, the system oregano
polls the system basil once every two hours. If there's any
mail waiting for oregano, basil will send it at that time;
likewise, oregano will at that time send any jobs waiting for
basil.
BITNET
BITNET (the "Because It's Time Network") is comprised of systems
connected by point-to-point links, all running the NJE protocol.
It's continued to grow, but has found itself suffering at the hands of
the falling costs of Internet connections. Also, a number of mail
gateways are in place to reach users on other networks.
The Physical Connection
The actual connections between the various networks take a variety of
forms. The most prevalent for Internet links are 56k leased lines
(dedicated telephone lines carrying 56kilobit-per-second connections)
and T1 links (special phone lines with 1Mbps connections). Also
installed are T3 links, acting as backbones between major locations
to carry a massive 45Mbps load of traffic.
These links are paid for by each institution to a local carrier (for
example, Bell Atlantic owns PrepNet, the main provider in
Pennsylvania). Also available are SLIP connections, which carry
Internet traffic (packets) over high-speed modems.
UUCP links are made with modems (for the most part), that run from
1200 baud all the way up to as high as 38.4Kbps. As was mentioned in
The Networks, the connections are of the store-and-forward
variety. Also in use are Internet-based UUCP links (as if things
weren't already confusing enough!). The systems do their UUCP traffic
over TCP/IP connections, which give the UUCP-based network some
blindingly fast "hops," resulting in better connectivity for the
network as a whole. UUCP connections first became popular in the
1970's, and have remained in wide-spread use ever since. Only with
UUCP can Joe Smith correspond with someone across the country or
around the world, for the price of a local telephone call.
BITNET links mostly take the form of 9600bps modems connected from site
to site. Often places have three or more links going; the majority,
however, look to "upstream" sites for their sole link to the network.
"The Glory and the Nothing of a Name"
Byron, {Churchill's Grave}
-----------
Electronic Mail
The desire to communicate is the essence of networking. People have
always wanted to correspond with each other in the fastest way
possible, short of normal conversation. Electronic mail (or
email) is the most prevalent application of this in computer
networking. It allows people to write back and forth without having
to spend much time worrying about how the message actually gets
delivered. As technology grows closer and closer to being a common
part of daily life, the need to understand the many ways it can be
utilized and how it works, at least to some level, is vital.
part of daily life (as has been evidenced by the ISDN effort, the need
to understand the many ways it can be utilized and how it works, at
least to some level, is vital.
Email Addresses
Electronic mail is hinged around the concept of an address; the
section on Networking Basics made some reference to it while
introducing domains. Your email address provides all of the
information required to get a message to you from anywhere in the
world. An address doesn't necessarily have to go to a human being.
It could be an archive server, {See Archive Servers, for a
description.} a list of people, or even someone's pocket pager.
These cases are the exception to the norm---mail to most addresses is
read by human beings.
%@!.: Symbolic Cacophony
Email addresses usually appear in one of two forms---using the
Internet format which contains @, an "at"-sign, or using the
UUCP format which contains !, an exclamation point, also called
a "bang." The latter of the two, UUCP "bang" paths, is more
restrictive, yet more clearly dictates how the mail will travel.
To reach Jim Morrison on the system south.america.org, one would
address the mail as jm@south.america.org. But if Jim's account was
on a UUCP site named brazil, then his address would be brazil!jm. If
it's possible (and one exists), try to use the Internet form of an
address; bang paths can fail if an intermediate site in the path
happens to be down. There is a growing trend for UUCP sites to
register Internet domain names, to help alleviate the problem of path
failures.
Another symbol that enters the fray is %---it acts as an extra
"routing" method. For example, if the UUCP site dream is connected
to south.america.org, but doesn't have an Internet domain name of its
own, a user debbie on dream can be reached by writing to the address
not smallexample!
debbie%dream@south.america.org
The form is significant. This address says that the local system
should first send the mail to south.america.org. There the address
debbie%dream will turn into debbie@dream, which will hopefully be a
valid address. Then south.america.org will handle getting the mail
to the host dream, where it will be delivered locally to debbie.
All of the intricacies of email addressing methods are fully covered
in the book "!%@@:: A Directory of Electronic Mail Addressing and
Networks" published by O'Reilly and Associates, as part of their
Nutshell Handbook series. It is a must for any active email user.
Write to nuts@ora.com for ordering information.
Sending and Receiving Mail
We'll make one quick diversion from being OS-neuter here, to show you
what it will look like to send and receive a mail message on a Unix
system. Check with your system administrator for specific
instructions related to mail at your site.
A person sending the author mail would probably do something like this:
% mail brendan@cs.widener.edu
Subject: print job's stuck
I typed `print babe.gif' and it didn't work! Why??
The next time the author checked his mail, he would see it listed in
his mailbox as:
% mail
"/usr/spool/mail/brendan": 1 messages 1 new 1 unread
U 1 joeuser@foo.widene Tue May 5 20:36 29/956 print job's stuck
?
which gives information on the sender of the email, when it was sent,
and the subject of the message. He would probably use the
reply command of Unix mail to send this response:
? r
To: joeuser@@foo.widener.edu
Subject: Re: print job's stuck
You shouldn't print binary files like GIFs to a printer!
Brendan
Try sending yourself mail a few times, to get used to your system's
mailer. It'll save a lot of wasted aspirin for both you and your
system administrator.
Anatomy of a Mail Header
An electronic mail message has a specific structure to it that's
common across every type of computer system. {The standard is written
down in RFC-822. See also RFCs for more info on how to get copies of
the various RFCs.} A sample would be:
>From bush@hq.mil Sat May 25 17:06:01 1991
Received: from hq.mil by house.gov with SMTP id AA21901
(4.1/SMI for dan@house.gov); Sat, 25 May 91 17:05:56 -0400
Date: Sat, 25 May 91 17:05:56 -0400
From: The President <bush@hq.mil>
Message-Id: <9105252105.AA06631@hq.mil>
To: dan@senate.gov
Subject: Meeting
Hi Dan .. we have a meeting at 9:30 a.m. with the Joint Chiefs. Please
don't oversleep this time.
The first line, with From and the two lines for Received: are usually
not very interesting. They give the "real" address that the mail
is coming from (as opposed to the address you should reply to, which
may look much different), and what places the mail went through to
get to you. Over the Internet, there is always at least one
Received: header and usually no more than four or five. When a
message is sent using UUCP, one Received: header is added for each
system that the mail passes through. This can often result in more
than a dozen Received: headers. While they help with dissecting
problems in mail delivery, odds are the average user will never want
to see them. Most mail programs will filter out this kind of
"cruft" in a header.
The Date: header contains the date and time the message was
sent. Likewise, the "good" address (as opposed to "real" address)
is laid out in the From: header. Sometimes it won't include
the full name of the person (in this case The President), and
may look different, but it should always contain an email address of
some form.
The Message-ID: of a message is intended mainly for tracing
mail routing, and is rarely of interest to normal users. Every
Message-ID: is guaranteed to be unique.
To: lists the email address (or addresses) of the recipients of
the message. There may be a Cc: header, listing additional
addresses. Finally, a brief subject for the message goes in the
Subject: header.
The exact order of a message's headers may vary from system to system,
but it will always include these fundamental headers that are vital to
proper delivery.
Bounced Mail
When an email address is incorrect in some way (the system's name is
wrong, the domain doesn't exist, whatever), the mail system will
bounce the message back to the sender, much the same way that the
Postal Service does when you send a letter to a bad street address.
The message will include the reason for the bounce; a common error is
addressing mail to an account name that doesn't exist. For example,
writing to Lisa Simpson at Widener University's Computer Science
department will fail, because she doesn't have an account. {Though if
she asked, we'd certainly give her one.}
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem <MAILER-DAEMON>
Date: Sat, 25 May 91 16:45:14 -0400
To: mg@gracie.com
Cc: Postmaster@cs.widener.edu
Subject: Returned mail: User unknown
----- Transcript of session follows -----
While talking to cs.widener.edu:
>>> RCPT To:<lsimpson@cs.widener.edu>
<<< 550 <lsimpson@cs.widener.edu>... User unknown
550 lsimpson... User unknown
As you can see, a carbon copy of the message (the Cc: header
entry) was sent to the postmaster of Widener's CS department. The
Postmaster is responsible for maintaining a reliable mail system
on his system. Usually postmasters at sites will attempt to aid you
in getting your mail where it's supposed to go. If a typing error was
made, then try re-sending the message. If you're sure that the
address is correct, contact the postmaster of the site directly and
ask him how to properly address it.
The message also includes the text of the mail, so you don't have to
retype everything you wrote.
----- Unsent message follows -----
Received: by cs.widener.edu id AA06528; Sat, 25 May 91 16:45:14 -0400
Date: Sat, 25 May 91 16:45:14 -0400
From: Matt Groening <mg@gracie.com>
Message-Id: <9105252045.AA06528@gracie.com>
To: lsimpson@cs.widener.edu
Subject: Scripting your future episodes
Reply-To: writing-group@gracie.com
.... verbiage ...
The full text of the message is returned intact, including any headers
that were added. This can be cut out with an editor and fed right
back into the mail system with a proper address, making redelivery a
relatively painless process.
Mailing Lists
People that share common interests are inclined to discuss their
hobby or interest at every available opportunity. One modern way to
aid in this exchange of information is by using a mailing
list---usually an email address that redistributes all mail sent to
it back out to a list of addresses. For example, the Sun Managers
mailing list (of interest to people that administer computers
manufactured by Sun) has the address sun-managers@eecs.nwu.edu. Any
mail sent to that address will "explode" out to each person named
in a file maintained on a computer at Northwestern University.
Administrative tasks (sometimes referred to as administrivia) are
often handled through other addresses, typically with the suffix
-request. To continue the above, a request to be added to or deleted
from the Sun Managers list should be sent to
sun-managers-request@eecs.nwu.edu.
When in doubt, try to write to the -request version of a mailing list
address first; the other people on the list aren't interested in your
desire to be added or deleted, and can certainly do nothing to
expedite your request. Often if the administrator of a list is busy
(remember, this is all peripheral to real jobs and real work), many
users find it necessary to ask again and again, often with harsher
and harsher language, to be removed from a list. This does nothing
more than waste traffic and bother everyone else receiving the
messages. If, after a reasonable amount of time, you still haven't
succeeded to be removed from a mailing list, write to the postmaster
at that site and see if they can help.
Exercise caution when replying to a message sent by a mailing list. If
you wish to respond to the author only, make sure that the only
address you're replying to is that person, and not the entire list.
Often messages of the sort "Yes, I agree with you completely!" will
appear on a list, boring the daylights out of the other readers. Likewise,
if you explicitly do want to send the message to the whole list,
you'll save yourself some time by checking to make sure it's indeed
headed to the whole list and not a single person.
A list of the currently available mailing lists is available in at
least two places; the first is in a file on ftp.nisc.sri.com called
interest-groups under the netinfo/ directory. It's updated fairly
regularly, but is large (presently around 700K), so only get it every
once in a while. The other list is maintained by Gene Spafford
(spaf@cs.purdue.edu), and is posted in parts to the newsgroup
news.lists semi-regularly. (Usenet News, for info on how to read that
and other newsgroups.)
Listservs
On BITNET there's an automated system for maintaining discussion lists
called the listserv. Rather than have an already harried and
overworked human take care of additions and removals from a list, a
program performs these and other tasks by responding to a set of
user-driven commands.
Areas of interest are wide and varied---ETHICS-L deals with ethics in
computing, while ADND-L has to do with a role-playing game. A full
list of the available BITNET lists can be obtained by writing to
LISTSERV@BITNIC.BITNET with a body containing the command
list global
However, be sparing in your use of this---see if it's already on your
system somewhere. The reply is quite large.
The most fundamental command is subscribe. It will tell the
listserv to add the sender to a specific list. The usage is
subscribe foo-l Your Real Name
It will respond with a message either saying that you've been added to
the list, or that the request has been passed on to the system on
which the list is actually maintained.
The mate to subscribe is, naturally, unsubscribe. It will remove a
given address from a BITNET list. It, along with all other listserv
commands, can be abbreviated---subscribe as sub, unsubscribe as
unsub, etc. For a full list of the available listserv commands,
write to LISTSERV@BITNIC.BITNET, giving it the command help.
As an aside, there have been implementations of the listserv system
for non-BITNET hosts (more specifically, Unix systems). One of the
most complete is available on cs.bu.edu in the
directory pub/listserv.
"I made this letter longer than usual because
I lack the time to make it shorter."
Pascal, Provincial Letters XVI
--------------
Anonymous FTP
FTP (File Transfer Protocol) is the primary method of transferring
files over the Internet. On many systems, it's also the name of the
program that implements the protocol. Given proper permission, it's
possible to copy a file from a computer in South Africa to one in Los
Angeles at very fast speeds (on the order of 5--10K per second).
This normally requires either a user id on both systems or a special
configuration set up by the system administrator(s).
There is a good way around this restriction---the anonymous FTP
service. It essentially will let anyone in the world have access to
a certain area of disk space in a non-threatening way. With this,
people can make files publicly available with little hassle. Some
systems have dedicated entire disks or even entire computers to
maintaining extensive archives of source code and information. They
include gatekeeper.dec.com (Digital), wuarchive.wustl.edu (Washington
University in Saint Louis), and archive.cis.ohio-state.edu (The Ohio
State University).
The process involves the "foreign" user (someone not on the system
itself) creating an FTP connection and logging into the system as the
user anonymous, with an arbitrary password:
Name (foo.site.com:you): anonymous
Password: jm@south.america.org
Custom and netiquette dictate that people respond to the
Password: query with an email address so that the sites can
track the level of FTP usage, if they desire. (Addresses for
information on email addresses).
The speed of the transfer depends on the speed of the underlying
link. A site that has a 9600bps SLIP connection will not get the same
throughput as a system with a 56k leased line (The Physical
Connection, for more on what kinds of connections can exist in a
network). Also, the traffic of all other users on that link will
affect performance. If there are thirty people all FTPing from one
site simultaneously, the load on the system (in addition to the
network connection) will degrade the overall throughput of the
transfer.
FTP Etiquette
Lest we forget, the Internet is there for people to do work. People
using the network and the systems on it are doing so for a purpose,
whether it be research, development, whatever. Any heavy activity
takes away from the overall performance of the network as a whole.
The effects of an FTP connection on a site and its link can vary; the
general rule of thumb is that any extra traffic created detracts from
the ability of that site's users to perform their tasks. To help be
considerate of this, it's highly recommended that FTP sessions
be held only after normal business hours for that site, preferably
late at night. The possible effects of a large transfer will be less
destructive at 2 a.m. than 2 p.m. Also, remember that if it's past
dinner time in Maine, it's still early afternoon in California---think
in terms of the current time at the site that's being visited, not of
local time.
Basic Commands
While there have been many extensions to the various FTP clients out
there, there is a de facto "standard" set that everyone expects to
work. For more specific information, read the manual for your
specific FTP program. This section will only skim the bare minimum of
commands needed to operate an FTP session.
Creating the Connection
The actual command to use FTP will vary among operating systems; for
the sake of clarity, we'll use FTP here, since it's the most
general form.
There are two ways to connect to a system---using its hostname
or its Internet number. Using the hostname is usually preferred.
However, some sites aren't able to resolve hostnames properly,
and have no alternative. We'll assume you're able to use hostnames
for simplicity's sake. The form is
ftp somewhere.domain
Domains for help with reading and using domain names
(in the example below, somewhere.domain is ftp.uu.net).
You must first know the name of the system you want to connect to.
We'll use ftp.uu.net as an example. On your system, type:
ftp ftp.uu.net
(the actual syntax will vary depending on the type of system the
connection's being made from). It will pause momentarily then respond
with the message
Connected to ftp.uu.net.
and an initial prompt will appear:
220 uunet FTP server (Version 5.100 Mon Feb 11 17:13:28 EST 1991) ready.
Name (ftp.uu.net:jm):
to which you should respond with anonymous:
220 uunet FTP server (Version 5.100 Mon Feb 11 17:13:28 EST 1991) ready.
Name (ftp.uu.net:jm): anonymous
The system will then prompt you for a password; as noted previously, a
good response is your email address:
331 Guest login ok, send ident as password.
Password: jm@south.america.org
230 Guest login ok, access restrictions apply.
ftp>
The password itself will not echo. This is to protect a user's
security when he or she is using a real account to FTP files between
machines. Once you reach the ftp> prompt, you know you're
logged in and ready to go.
Notice the ftp.uu.net:joe in the Name: prompt? That's
another clue that anonymous FTP is special: FTP expects a normal user
accounts to be used for transfers.
dir
At the ftp> prompt, you can type a number of commands to perform
various functions. One example is dir---it will list the files
in the current directory. Continuing the example from above:
ftp> dir
200 PORT command successful.
150 Opening ASCII mode data connection for /bin/ls.
total 3116
drwxr-xr-x 2 7 21 512 Nov 21 1988 .forward
-rw-rw-r-- 1 7 11 0 Jun 23 1988 .hushlogin
drwxrwxr-x 2 0 21 512 Jun 4 1990 Census
drwxrwxr-x 2 0 120 512 Jan 8 09:36 ClariNet
... etc etc ...
-rw-rw-r-- 1 7 14 42390 May 20 02:24 newthisweek.Z
... etc etc ...
-rw-rw-r-- 1 7 14 2018887 May 21 01:01 uumap.tar.Z
drwxrwxr-x 2 7 6 1024 May 11 10:58 uunet-info
226 Transfer complete.
5414 bytes received in 1.1 seconds (4.9 Kbytes/s)
ftp>
The file newthisweek.Z was specifically included because we'll
be using it later. Just for general information, it happens to be a
listing of all of the files added to UUNET's archives during the past
week.
The directory shown is on a machine running the Unix operating
system---the dir command will produce different results on other
operating systems (e.g. TOPS, VMS, et al.). Learning to recognize
different formats will take some time. After a few weeks of
traversing the Internet, it proves easier to see, for example, how
large a file is on an operating system you're otherwise not acquainted
with.
With many FTP implementations, it's also possible to take the output
of dir and put it into a file on the local system with
ftp> dir n* outfilename
the contents of which can then be read outside of the live FTP
connection; this is particularly useful for systems with very long
directories (like ftp.uu.net). The above example would put the
names of every file that begins with an n into the local file
outfilename.
cd
At the beginning of an FTP session, the user is in a "top-level"
directory. Most things are in directories below it (e.g. /pub). To
change the current directory, one uses the cd command. To change to
the directory pub, for example, one would type
ftp> cd pub
which would elicit the response
250 CWD command successful.
Meaning the "Change Working Directory" command (cd) worked
properly. Moving "up" a directory is more system-specific---in Unix
use the command cd .., and in VMS, cd [-].
get and put
The actual transfer is performed with the get and put
commands. To get a file from the remote computer to the local
system, the command takes the form:
ftp> get filename
where filename is the file on the remote system. Again using
ftp.uu.net as an example, the file newthisweek.Z can be
retrieved with
ftp> get newthisweek.Z
200 PORT command successful.
150 Opening ASCII mode data connection for newthisweek.Z (42390 bytes).
226 Transfer complete.
local: newthisweek.Z remote: newthisweek.Z
42553 bytes received in 6.9 seconds (6 Kbytes/s)
ftp>
The section below on using binary mode instead of ASCII will describe
why this particular choice will result in a corrupt and subsequently
unusable file.
If, for some reason, you want to save a file under a different name
(e.g. your system can only have 14-character filenames, or can only
have one dot in the name), you can specify what the local filename
should be by providing get with an additional argument
ftp> get newthisweek.Z uunet-new
which will place the contents of the file newthisweek.Z in
uunet-new on the local system.
The transfer works the other way, too. The put command will
transfer a file from the local system to the remote system. If the
permissions are set up for an FTP session to write to a remote
directory, a file can be sent with
ftp> put filename
As with get, put will take a third argument, letting you
specify a different name for the file on the remote system.
ASCII vs Binary
In the example above, the file newthisweek.Z was transferred, but
supposedly not correctly. The reason is this: in a normal ASCII
transfer (the default), certain characters are translated between
systems, to help make text files more readable. However, when binary
files (those containing non-ASCII characters) are transferred, this
translation should not take place. One example is a binary
program---a few changed characters can render it completely useless.
To avoid this problem, it's possible to be in one of two modes---ASCII
or binary. In binary mode, the file isn't translated in any way.
What's on the remote system is precisely what's received. The
commands to go between the two modes are:
ftp> ascii
200 Type set to A. (Note the A, which signifies ASCII mode.)
ftp> binary
200 Type set to I. (Set to Image format, for pure binary transfers.)
Note that each command need only be done once to take effect; if the
user types binary, all transfers in that session are done in
binary mode (that is, unless ascii is typed later).
The transfer of newthisweek.Z will work if done as:
ftp> binary
200 Type set to I.
ftp> get newthisweek.Z
200 PORT command successful.
150 Opening BINARY mode data connection for newthisweek.Z (42390 bytes).
226 Transfer complete.
local: newthisweek.Z remote: newthisweek.Z
42390 bytes received in 7.2 seconds (5.8 Kbytes/s)
Note: The file size (42390) is different from that done
in ASCII mode (42553) bytes; and the number 42390 matches the one
in the listing of UUNET's top directory. We can be relatively sure
that we've received the file without any problems.
mget and mput
The commands mget and mput allow for multiple file
transfers using wildcards to get several files, or a whole set of
files at once, rather than having to do it manually one by one. For
example, to get all files that begin with the letter f, one
would type
ftp> mget f*
Similarly, to put all of the local files that end with .c:
ftp> mput *.c
Rather than reiterate what's been written a hundred times before,
consult a local manual for more information on wildcard matching
(every DOS manual, for example, has a section on it).
Normally, FTP assumes a user wants to be prompted for every file in a
mget or mput operation. You'll often need to get a whole set of
files and not have each of them confirmed---you know they're all
right. In that case, use the prompt command to turn the queries off.
ftp> prompt
Interactive mode off.
Likewise, to turn it back on, the prompt command should simply
be issued again.
Joe Granrose's List
Monthly, Joe Granrose (odin@pilot.njin.net) posts to Usenet
(Usenet News) an extensive list of sites offering anonymous FTP
service. It's available in a number of ways:
The Usenet groups comp.misc and comp.sources.wanted
Anonymous FTP from pilot.njin.net [128.6.7.38], in
/pub/ftp-list.
Write to odin@pilot.njin.net with a Subject: line of listserv-request
and a message body of send help. Please don't bother Joe with your
requests---the server will provide you with the list.
The archie Server
archie is always in lowercase
A group of people at McGill University in Canada got together and created a
query system called archie. It was originally formed to be a
quick and easy way to scan the offerings of the many anonymous FTP
sites that are maintained around the world. As time progressed,
archie grew to include other valuable services as well.
The archie service is accessible through an interactive telnet
session, email queries, and command-line and X-window clients. The
email responses can be used along with FTPmail servers for those not
on the Internet. (FTP-by-Mail Servers, for info on using FTPmail
servers.)
Using archie Today
Currently, archie tracks the contents of over 800 anonymous FTP
archive sites containing over a million files stored across the
Internet. Collectively, these files represent well over 50 gigabytes
of information, with new entries being added daily.
The archie server automatically updates the listing information from
each site about once a month. This avoids constantly updating the
databases, which could waste network resources, yet ensures that the
information on each site's holdings is reasonably up to date.
To access archie interactively, telnet to one of the existing
servers. {See Telnet, for notes on using the telnet program.} They
include
archie.ans.net (New York, USA)
archie.rutgers.edu (New Jersey, USA)
archie.sura.net (Maryland, USA)
archie.unl.edu (Nebraska, USA)
archie.mcgill.ca (the first Archie server, in Canada)
archie.funet.fi (Finland)
archie.au (Australia)
archie.doc.ic.ac.uk (Great Britain)
At the login: prompt of one of the servers, enter archie to log in.
A greeting will be displayed, detailing information about ongoing
work in the archie project; the user will be left at a archie>
prompt, at which he may enter commands. Using help will yield
instructions on using the prog command to make queries, set to
control various aspects of the server's operation, et al. Type quit
at the prompt to leave archie. Typing the query prog vine.tar.Z will
yield a list of the systems that offer the source to the X-windows
program vine; a piece of the information returned looks like:
Host ftp.uu.net (137.39.1.9)
Last updated 10:30 7 Jan 1992
Location: /packages/X/contrib
FILE rw-r--r-- 15548 Oct 8 20:29 vine.tar.Z
Host nic.funet.fi (128.214.6.100)
Last updated 05:07 4 Jan 1992
Location: /pub/X11/contrib
FILE rw-rw-r-- 15548 Nov 8 03:25 vine.tar.Z
archie Clients
There are two main-stream archie clients, one called (naturally
enough) archie, the other xarchie (for X-Windows). They query the
archie databases and yield a list of systems that have the requested
file(s) available for anonymous FTP, without requiring an interactive
session to the server. For example, to find the same information you
tried with the server command prog, you could type
% archie vine.tar.Z
Host athene.uni-paderborn.de
Location: /local/X11/more_contrib
FILE -rw-r--r-- 18854 Nov 15 1990 vine.tar.Z
Host emx.utexas.edu
Location: /pub/mnt/source/games
FILE -rw-r--r-- 12019 May 7 1988 vine.tar.Z
Host export.lcs.mit.edu
Location: /contrib
FILE -rw-r--r-- 15548 Oct 9 00:29 vine.tar.Z
Note that your system administrator may not have installed the archie
clients yet; the source is available on each of the archie servers, in
the directory archie/clients.
Using the X-windows client is much more intuitive---if it's installed,
just read its man page and give it a whirl. It's essential for the
networked desktop.
Mailing archie
Users limited to email connectivity to the Internet should send a
message to the address archie@archie.mcgill.ca with the single word
help in the body of the message. An email message will be returned
explaining how to use the email archie server, along with the details
of using FTPmail. Most of the commands offered by the telnet
interface can be used with the mail server.
The whatis database
In addition to offering access to anonymous FTP listings, archie also
permits access to the whatis description database. It includes
the names and brief synopses for over 3,500 public domain software
packages, datasets and informational documents located on the
Internet.
Additional whatis databases are scheduled to be added in the
future. Planned offerings include listings for the names and locations
of online library catalog programs, the names of publicly accessible
electronic mailing lists, compilations of Frequently Asked Questions
lists, and archive sites for the most popular Usenet newsgroups.
Suggestions for additional descriptions or locations databases are
welcomed and should be sent to the archie developers at
archie-l@cs.mcgill.ca.
"Was f@"ur pl@"undern!"
("What a place to plunder!")
Gebhard Leberecht Bl@"ucher
------
Usenet News
Original from: chip@count.tct.com (Chip Salzenberg)
[Most recent change: 19 May 1991 by spaf@cs.purdue.edu (Gene Spafford)]
The first thing to understand about Usenet is that it is widely
misunderstood. Every day on Usenet the "blind men and the
elephant" phenomenon appears, in spades. In the opinion of the
author, more flame wars (rabid arguments) arise because of a
lack of understanding of the nature of Usenet than from any other
source. And consider that such flame wars arise, of necessity, among
people who are on Usenet. Imagine, then, how poorly understood Usenet
must be by those outside!
No essay on the nature of Usenet can ignore the erroneous impressions
held by many Usenet users. Therefore, this section will treat
falsehoods first. Keep reading for truth. (Beauty, alas, is not
relevant to Usenet.)
What Usenet Is
Usenet is the set of machines that exchange articles tagged with one
or more universally-recognized labels, called newsgroups (or
"groups" for short). (Note that the term newsgroup is correct,
while area, base, board, bboard, conference, round table, SIG, etc.
are incorrect. If you want to be understood, be accurate.)
The Diversity of Usenet
If the above definition of Usenet sounds vague, that's because it is.
It is almost impossible to generalize over all Usenet sites in any
non-trivial way. Usenet encompasses government agencies, large
universities, high schools, businesses of all sizes, home computers of
all descriptions, etc.
Every administrator controls his own site. No one has any real
control over any site but his own. The administrator gets his power
from the owner of the system he administers. As long as the owner is
happy with the job the administrator is doing, he can do whatever he
pleases, up to and including cutting off Usenet entirely. C'est
la vie.
What Usenet Is Not
Usenet is not an organization.
Usenet has no central authority. In fact, it has no central anything.
There is a vague notion of "upstream" and "downstream" related to
the direction of high-volume news flow. It follows that, to the
extent that "upstream" sites decide what traffic they will carry for
their "downstream" neighbors, that "upstream" sites have some
influence on their neighbors. But such influence is usually easy to
circumvent, and heavy-handed manipulation typically results in a
backlash of resentment.
Usenet is not a democracy.
A democracy can be loosely defined as "government of the people, by
the people, for the people." However, as explained above, Usenet is
not an organization, and only an organization can be run as a
democracy. Even a democracy must be organized, for if it lacks a
means of enforcing the peoples' wishes, then it may as well not exist.
Some people wish that Usenet were a democracy. Many people pretend
that it is. Both groups are sadly deluded.
Usenet is not fair.
After all, who shall decide what's fair? For that matter, if someone
is behaving unfairly, who's going to stop him? Neither you nor I,
that's certain.
Usenet is not a right.
Some people misunderstand their local right of "freedom of speech"
to mean that they have a legal right to use others' computers to say
what they wish in whatever way they wish, and the owners of said
computers have no right to stop them.
Those people are wrong. Freedom of speech also means freedom not to
speak; if I choose not to use my computer to aid your speech, that is
my right. Freedom of the press belongs to those who own one.
Usenet is not a public utility.
Some Usenet sites are publicly funded or subsidized. Most of them,
by plain count, are not. There is no government monopoly on Usenet,
and little or no control.
Usenet is not a commercial network.
Many Usenet sites are academic or government organizations; in fact,
Usenet originated in academia. Therefore, there is a Usenet custom of
keeping commercial traffic to a minimum. If such commercial traffic
is generally considered worth carrying, then it may be grudgingly
tolerated. Even so, it is usually separated somehow from
non-commercial traffic; see comp.newprod.
Usenet is not the Internet.
The Internet is a wide-ranging network, parts of which are subsidized
by various governments. The Internet carries many kinds of traffic;
Usenet is only one of them. And the Internet is only one of the
various networks carrying Usenet traffic.
Usenet is not a Unix network, nor even an ASCII network.
Don't assume that everyone is using "rn" on a Unix machine. There
are Vaxen running VMS, IBM mainframes, Amigas, and MS-DOS PCs reading
and posting to Usenet. And, yes, some of them use (shudder) EBCDIC.
Ignore them if you like, but they're out there.
Usenet is not software.
There are dozens of software packages used at various sites to
transport and read Usenet articles. So no one program or package can
be called "the Usenet software."
Software designed to support Usenet traffic can be (and is) used for
other kinds of communication, usually without risk of mixing the two.
Such private communication networks are typically kept distinct from
Usenet by the invention of newsgroup names different from the
universally-recognized ones.
Usenet is not a UUCP network.
UUCP is a protocol (some might say protocol suite, but that's a
technical point) for sending data over point-to-point connections,
typically using dialup modems. Usenet is only one of the various
kinds of traffic carried via UUCP, and UUCP is only one of the various
transports carrying Usenet traffic.
Well, enough negativity.
Propagation of News
In the old days, when UUCP over long-distance dialup lines was the
dominant means of article transmission, a few well-connected sites
had real influence in determining which newsgroups would be carried
where. Those sites called themselves "the backbone."
But things have changed. Nowadays, even the smallest Internet site
has connectivity the likes of which the backbone admin of yesteryear
could only dream. In addition, in the U.S., the advent of cheaper
long-distance calls and high-speed modems has made long-distance
Usenet feeds thinkable for smaller companies. There is only one
pre-eminent UUCP transport site today in the U.S., namely UUNET. But
UUNET isn't a player in the propagation wars, because it never
refuses any traffic---it gets paid by the minute, after all; to
refuse based on content would jeopardize its legal status as an
enhanced service provider.
All of the above applies to the U.S. In Europe, different cost
structures favored the creation of strictly controlled hierarchical
organizations with central registries. This is all very unlike the
traditional mode of U.S. sites (pick a name, get the software, get a
feed, you're on). Europe's "benign monopolies", long uncontested,
now face competition from looser organizations patterned after the
U.S. model.
Group Creation
As discussed above, Usenet is not a democracy. Nevertheless,
currently the most popular way to create a new newsgroup involves a
"vote" to determine popular support for (and opposition to) a
proposed newsgroup. Newsgroup Creation, for detailed instructions and
guidelines on the process involved in making a newsgroup.
If you follow the guidelines, it is probable that your group will be
created and will be widely propagated. However, due to the nature of
Usenet, there is no way for any user to enforce the results of a
newsgroup vote (or any other decision, for that matter). Therefore,
for your new newsgroup to be propagated widely, you must not only
follow the letter of the guidelines; you must also follow its spirit.
And you must not allow even a whiff of shady dealings or dirty tricks
to mar the vote.
So, you may ask: How is a new user supposed to know anything about the
"spirit" of the guidelines? Obviously, she can't. This fact leads
inexorably to the following recommendation:
If you're a new user, don't try to create a new newsgroup alone.
If you have a good newsgroup idea, then read the news.groups
newsgroup for a while (six months, at least) to find out how things
work. If you're too impatient to wait six months, then you really
need to learn; read news.groups for a year instead. If you just
can't wait, find a Usenet old hand to run the vote for you.
Readers may think this advice unnecessarily strict. Ignore it at your
peril. It is embarrassing to speak before learning. It is foolish to
jump into a society you don't understand with your mouth open. And it
is futile to try to force your will on people who can tune you out
with the press of a key.
If You're Unhappy...
Property rights being what they are, there is no higher authority on
Usenet than the people who own the machines on which Usenet traffic is
carried. If the owner of the machine you use says, "We will not
carry alt.sex on this machine," and you are not happy with
that order, you have no Usenet recourse. What can we outsiders do,
after all?
That doesn't mean you are without options. Depending on the nature
of your site, you may have some internal political recourse. Or you
might find external pressure helpful. Or, with a minimal investment,
you can get a feed of your own from somewhere else. Computers capable
of taking Usenet feeds are down in the $500 range now, Unix-capable
boxes are going for under $2000, and there are at least two Unix
lookalikes in the $100 price range.
No matter what, appealing to "Usenet" won't help. Even if those who
read such an appeal regarding system administration are sympathetic to
your cause, they will almost certainly have even less influence at
your site than you do.
By the same token, if you don't like what some user at another site is
doing, only the administrator and/or owner of that site have any
authority to do anything about it. Persuade them that the user in
question is a problem for them, and they might do something (if they
feel like it). If the user in question is the administrator or owner
of the site from which he or she posts, forget it; you can't win.
Arrange for your newsreading software to ignore articles from him or
her if you can, and chalk one up to experience.
The History of Usenet (The ABCs)
In the beginning, there were conversations, and they were good. Then
came Usenet in 1979, shortly after the release of V7 Unix with UUCP;
and it was better. Two Duke University grad students in North
Carolina, Tom Truscott and Jim Ellis, thought of hooking computers
together to exchange information with the Unix community. Steve
Bellovin, a grad student at the University of North Carolina, put
together the first version of the news software using shell scripts
and installed it on the first two sites: unc and duke. At the
beginning of 1980 the network consisted of those two sites and phs
(another machine at Duke), and was described at the January 1980
Usenix conference in Boulder, CO. {The Usenix conferences are
semi-annual meetings where members of the Usenix Association, a
group of Unix enthusiasts, meet and trade notes.} Steve Bellovin
later rewrote the scripts into C programs, but they were never
released beyond unc and duke. Shortly thereafter, Steve Daniel did
another implementation in the C programming language for public
distribution. Tom Truscott made further modifications, and this
became the "A" news release.
In 1981 at the University of California at Berkeley, grad student Mark
Horton and high school student Matt Glickman rewrote the news software
to add functionality and to cope with the ever increasing volume of
news---"A" news was intended for only a few articles per group per
day. This rewrite was the "B" news version. The first public
release was version 2.1 in 1982; all versions before 2.1 were
considered in beta test. As The Net grew, the news software was
expanded and modified. The last version maintained and released
primarily by Mark was 2.10.1.
Rick Adams, then at the Center for Seismic Studies, took over
coordination of the maintenance and enhancement of the news software
with the 2.10.2 release in 1984. By this time, the increasing volume
of news was becoming a concern, and the mechanism for moderated groups
was added to the software at 2.10.2. Moderated groups were inspired
by ARPA mailing lists and experience with other bulletin board
systems. In late 1986, version 2.11 of news was released, including a
number of changes to support a new naming structure for newsgroups,
enhanced batching and compression, enhanced ihave/sendme control
messages, and other features. The current release of news is 2.11,
patchlevel 19.
A new version of news, becoming known as "C" news, has been
developed at the University of Toronto by Geoff Collyer and Henry
Spencer. This version is a rewrite of the lowest levels of news to
increase article processing speed, decrease article expiration
processing and improve the reliability of the news system through
better locking, etc. The package was released to The Net in the
autumn of 1987. For more information, see the paper News Need Not Be
Slow, published in the Winter 1987 Usenix Technical Conference
proceedings.
Usenet software has also been ported to a number of platforms, from
the Amiga and IBM PCs all the way to minicomputers and mainframes.
Hierarchies
Newsgroups are organized according to their specific areas of
concentration. Since the groups are in a tree structure, the
various areas are called hierarchies. There are seven major categories:
comp
Topics of interest to both computer professionals and
hobbyists, including topics in computer science, software sources, and
information on hardware and software systems.
misc
Group addressing themes not easily classified into any of the other
headings or which incorporate themes from multiple categories.
Subjects include fitness, job-hunting, law, and investments.
sci
Discussions marked by special knowledge relating to research in or
application of the established sciences.
soc
Groups primarily addressing social issues and socializing. Included
are discussions related to many different world cultures.
talk
Groups largely debate-oriented and tending to feature long
discussions without resolution and without appreciable amounts of
generally useful information.
news
Groups concerned with the news network, group maintenance, and software.
rec
Groups oriented towards hobbies and recreational activities
These "world" newsgroups are (usually) circulated around the entire
Usenet---this implies world-wide distribution. Not all groups
actually enjoy such wide distribution, however. The European Usenet
and Eunet sites take only a selected subset of the more "technical"
groups, and controversial "noise" groups are often not carried by many
sites in the U.S. and Canada (these groups are primarily under the talk
and soc classifications). Many sites do not carry some or all of
the comp.binaries groups because of the typically large size of
the posts in them (being actual executable programs).
Also available are a number of "alternative" hierarchies:
alt
True anarchy; anything and everything can and does appear;
subjects include sex, the Simpsons, and privacy.
gnu
Groups concentrating on interests and software with the GNU
Project of the Free Software Foundation. For further info on what the
FSF is, FSF.
biz
Business-related groups.
Moderated vs Unmoderated
Some newsgroups insist that the discussion remain focused and
on-target; to serve this need, moderated groups came to be. All
articles posted to a moderated group get mailed to the group's
moderator. He or she periodically (hopefully sooner than later)
reviews the posts, and then either posts them individually to Usenet,
or posts a composite digest of the articles for the past day or
two. This is how many mailing list gateways work (for example, the
Risks Digest).
news.groups & news.announce.newgroups
Being a good net.citizen includes being involved in the continuing
growth and evolution of the Usenet system. One part of this
involvement includes following the discussion in the groups
news.groups and the notes in news.announce.newgroups. It is there
that discussion goes on about the creation of new groups and
destruction of inactive ones. Every person on Usenet is allowed and
encouraged to vote on the creation of a newsgroup.
How Usenet Works
The transmission of Usenet news is entirely cooperative. Feeds are
generally provided out of good will and the desire to distribute news
everywhere. There are places which provide feeds for a fee (e.g.
UUNET), but for the large part no exchange of money is involved.
There are two major transport methods, UUCP and NNTP. The first is
mainly modem-based and involves the normal charges for telephone
calls. The second, NNTP, is the primary method for distributing news
over the Internet.
With UUCP, news is stored in batches on a site until the
neighbor calls to receive the articles, or the feed site happens to
call. A list of groups which the neighbor wishes to receive is
maintained on the feed site. The Cnews system compresses its batches,
which can dramatically reduce the transmission time necessary for a
relatively heavy newsfeed.
NNTP, on the other hand, offers a little more latitude with how news
is sent. The traditional store-and-forward method is, of course,
available. Given the "real-time" nature of the Internet, though,
other methods have been devised. Programs now keep constant
connections with their news neighbors, sending news nearly
instantaneously, and can handle dozens of simultaneous feeds, both
incoming and outgoing.
The transmission of a Usenet article is centered around the unique
Message-ID: header. When an NNTP site offers an article to a
neighbor, it says it has that specific Message ID. If the neighbor
finds it hasn't received the article yet, it tells the feed to send it
through; this is repeated for each and every article that's waiting
for the neighbor. Using unique IDs helps prevent a system from
receiving five copies of an article from each of its five news
neighbors, for example.
Further information on how Usenet works with relation to the various
transports is available in the documentation for the Cnews and NNTP
packages, as well as in RFC-1036, the Standard for Interchange of
USENET Messages and RFC-977, Network News Transfer Protocol: A
Proposed Standard for the Stream-Based Transmission of News. The
RFCs do tend to be rather dry reading, particularly to the new user.
Mail Gateways
A natural progression is for Usenet news and electronic mailing lists
to somehow become merged---which they have, in the form of news
gateways. Many mailing lists are set up to "reflect" messages not
only to the readership of the list, but also into a newsgroup.
Likewise, posts to a newsgroup can be sent to the moderator of the
mailing list, or to the entire mailing list. Some examples of this in
action are comp.risks (the Risks Digest) and
comp.dcom.telecom (the Telecom Digest).
This method of propagating mailing list traffic has helped solve the
problem of a single message being delivered to a number of people at
the same site---instead, anyone can just subscribe to the group.
Also, mailing list maintenance is lowered substantially, since the
moderators don't have to be constantly removing and adding users to
and from the list. Instead, the people can read and not read the
newsgroup at their leisure.
from "Dear Emily Postnews" by Brad Templeton
Usenet "Netiquette"
There are many traditions with Usenet, not the least of which is
dubbed netiquette---being polite and considerate of others. If
you follow a few basic guidelines, you, and everyone that reads your
posts, will be much happier in the long run.
Signatures
At the end of most articles is a small blurb called a person's
signature. In Unix this file is named .signature in the
person's login directory---it will vary for other operating systems.
It exists to provide information about how to get in touch with the
person posting the article, including their email address, phone
number, address, or where they're located. Even so, signatures have
become the graffiti of computers. People put song lyrics, pictures,
philosophical quotes, even advertisements in their ".sigs".
(Note, however, that advertising in your signature will more often
than not get you flamed until you take it out.)
Four lines will suffice---more is just extra garbage for Usenet sites
to carry along with your article, which is supposed to be the intended
focus of the reader. Netiquette dictates limiting oneself to this
"quota" of four---some people make signatures that are ten lines or
even more, including elaborate ASCII drawings of their hand-written
signature or faces or even the space shuttle. This is not
cute, and will bother people to no end.
Similarly, it's not necessary to include your signature---if you
forget to append it to an article, don't worry about it. The
article's just as good as it ever would be, and contains everything
you should want to say. Don't re-post the article just to include the
signature.
Posting Personal Messages
If mail to a person doesn't make it through, avoid posting the message
to a newsgroup. Even if the likelihood of that person reading the
group is very high, all of the other people reading the articles don't
give a whit what you have to say to Jim Morrison. Simply wait for the
person to post again and double-check the address, or get in touch
with your system administrator and see if it's a problem with local
email delivery. It may also turn out that their site is down or is
having problems, in which case it's just necessary to wait until
things return to normal before contacting Jim.
Posting Mail
In the interests of privacy, it's considered extremely bad taste to post
any email that someone may have sent, unless they explicitly give you
permission to redistribute it. While the legal issues can be heavily
debated, most everyone agrees that email should be treated as anything
one would receive via normal snailmail, {The slang for the normal land and air
postal service.} , with all of the assumed rights that are carried with it.
Test Messages
Many people, particularly new users, want to try out posting before
actually taking part in discussions. Often the mechanics of getting
messages out is the most difficult part of Usenet. To this end,
many, many users find it necessary to post their tests to "normal"
groups (for example, news.admin or comp.mail.misc). This is
considered a major netiquette faux pas in the Usenet world. There are
a number of groups available, called test groups, that exist solely
for the purpose of trying out a news system, reader, or even new
signature. They include
alt.test
gnu.gnusenet.test
misc.test
some of which will generate auto-magic replies to your posts to
let you know they made it through. There are certain denizens of
Usenet that frequent the test groups to help new users out. They
respond to the posts, often including the article so the poster can
see how it got to the person's site. Also, many regional hierarchies
have test groups, like phl.test in Philadelphia.
By all means, experiment and test---just do it in its proper place.
Famous People Appearing
Every once in a while, someone says that a celebrity is accessible
through "The Net"; or, even more entertaining, an article is forged
to appear to be coming from that celebrity. One example is Stephen
Spielberg---the rec.arts.movies readership was in an uproar for
two weeks following a couple of posts supposedly made by Mr.
Spielberg. (Some detective work revealed it to be a hoax.)
There are a few well-known people that are acquainted with
Usenet and computers in general---but the overwhelming majority are
just normal people. One should act with skepticism whenever a notable
personality is "seen" in a newsgroup.
Summaries
Authors of articles occasionally say that readers should reply by
mail and they'll summarize. Accordingly, readers should do just
that---reply via mail. Responding with a followup article to such an
article defeats the intention of the author. She, in a few days,
will post one article containing the highlights of the responses she
received. By following up to the whole group, the author may not
read what you have to say.
When creating a summary of the replies to a post, try to make it as
reader-friendly as possible. Avoid just putting all of the messages
received into one big file. Rather, take some time and edit the
messages into a form that contains the essential information that
other readers would be interested in.
Also, sometimes people will respond but request to remain anonymous
(one example is the employees of a corporation that feel the
information's not proprietary, but at the same time want to protect
themselves from political backlash). Summaries should honor this
request accordingly by listing the From: address as
anonymous or (Address withheld by request).
Quoting
When following up to an article, many newsreaders provide the facility
to quote the original article with each line prefixed by >
, as in
In article <1232@foo.bar.com>, sharon@foo.bar.com wrote:
> I agree, I think that basketweaving's really catching on,
> particularly in Pennsylvania. Here's a list of every person
> in PA that currently engages in it publicly:
line ... etc ...
This is a severe example (potentially a horribly long article), but
proves a point. When you quote another person, edit out whatever
isn't directly applicable to your reply. {But not changing their
words, of course. } This gives the reader of the new article a better
idea of what points you were addressing. By including the entire
article, you'll only annoy those reading it. Also, signatures in the
original aren't necessary; the readers already know who wrote it (by
the attribution).
Avoid being tedious with responses---rather than pick apart an
article, address it in parts or as a whole. Addressing practically
each and every word in an article only proves that the person
responding has absolutely nothing better to do with his time.
If a "war" starts (insults and personal comments get thrown back
and forth), take it into email---exchange email with the person
you're arguing with. No one enjoys watching people bicker
incessantly.
Crossposting
The Newsgroups: line isn't limited to just one group---an
article can be posted in a list of groups. For instance, the line
Newsgroups: sci.space,comp.simulation
posts the article to both the groups sci.space and
comp.simulation. It's usually safe to crosspost to up to three
or four groups. To list more than that is considered "excessive
noise."
It's also suggested that if an article is crossposted a
Followup-To: header be included. It should name the group to
which all additional discussion should be directed to. For the above
example a possible Followup-To: would be
Followup-To: sci.space
which would make all followups automatically be posted to just
sci.space, rather than both sci.space and comp.simulation. If every
response made with a newsreader's "followup" command should go to
the person posting the article no matter what, there's also a
mechanism worked in to accommodate. The Followup-To: header should
contain the single word poster:
Followup-To: poster
Certain newsreaders will use this to sense that a reply should never
be posted back onto The Net. This is often used with questions that
will yield a summary of information later, a vote, or an
advertisement.
Recent News
One should avoid posting "recent" events---sports scores, a plane
crash, or whatever people will see on the evening news or read in the
morning paper. By the time the article has propagated across all of
Usenet, the "news" value of the article will have become stale.
(This is one case for the argument that Usenet news is a misnomer.
{Note that the Clarinet News service (Clarinet) offers news items in
a Usenet format as a precise alternative to the morning paper, et.
al.)
Quality of Postings
How you write and present yourself in your articles is important. If
you have terrible spelling, keep a dictionary near by. If you have
trouble with grammar and punctuation, try to get a book on English
grammar and composition (found in many bookstores and at garage
sales). By all means pay attention to what you say---it makes you who
you are on The Net.
Likewise, try to be clear in what you ask. Ambiguous or vague
questions often lead to no response at all, leaving the poster
discouraged. Give as much essential information as you feel is
necessary to let people help you, but keep it within limits. For
instance, you should probably include the operating system of your
computer in the post if it's needed, but don't tell everybody what
peripherals you have hanging off of it.
Useful Subjects
The Subject: line of an article is what will first attract
people to read it---if it's vague or doesn't describe what's contained
within, no one will read the article. At the same time,
Subject: lines that're too wordy tend to be irritating. For
example:
Good
Subject: Building Emacs on a Sun Sparc under 4.1
Good
Subject: Tryin' to find Waldo in NJ.
Bad
Subject: I can't get emacs to work !!!
Bad
Subject: I'm desperately in search of the honorable Mr. Waldo in the state
of...
Simply put, try to think of what will best help the reader when he or
she encounters your article in a newsreading session.
Tone of Voice
Since common computers can't portray the inflection or tone in a
person's voice, how articles are worded can directly affect the
response to them. If you say
Anybody using a Vic-20 should go buy themselves a life.
you'll definitely get some responses---telling you to take a leap.
Rather than be inflammatory, phrase your articles in a way that
rationally expresses your opinion, like
What're the practical uses of a Vic-20 these days?
which presents yourself as a much more level-headed individual.
Also, what case (upper or lower) you use can indicate how you're
trying to speak---netiquette dictates that if you USE ALL CAPITAL
LETTERS, people will think you're "shouting." Write as you would in
a normal letter to a friend, following traditional rules of English
(or whatever language you happen to speak).
Computer Religion
No matter what kind of computer a person is using, theirs is always
the best and most efficient of them all. Posting articles
asking questions like What computer should I buy? An Atari ST or an
Amiga? will lead only to fervent arguments over the merits and
drawbacks of each brand. Don't even ask The Net---go to a local user
group, or do some research of your own like reading some magazine
reviews. Trying to say one computer is somehow better than another is
a moot point.
The Anatomy of an Article
Frequently Asked Questions
A number of groups include Frequently Asked Question (FAQ) lists,
which give the answers to questions or points that have been raised
time and time again in a newsgroup. They're intended to help cut
down on the redundant traffic in a group. For example, in the
newsgroup alt.tv.simpsons, one recurring question is Did you notice
that there's a different blackboard opening at the beginning of every
Simpsons episode? As a result, it's part of the FAQ for that group.
Usually, FAQ lists are posted at the beginning of each month, and are
set to expire one month later (when, supposedly, the next FAQ will be
published). Nearly every FAQ is also crossposted to news.answers,
which is used as a Usenet repository for them.
The Pit-Manager Archive
MIT, with Jonathan Kamens, has graciously dedicated a machine to the
archiving and storage of the various periodic postings that are
peppered throughout the various Usenet groups. To access them, FTP to
the system pit-manager.mit.edu and look in the directory
/pub/usenet.
"Be it true or false, so it be news."
Ben Jonson, News from the New World
-----
Telnet
Telnet is the main Internet protocol for creating a connection
with a remote machine. It gives the user the opportunity to be on one
computer system and do work on another, which may be across the street
or thousands of miles away. Where modems are limited, in the majority,
by the quality of telephone lines and a single connection, telnet
provides a connection that's error-free and nearly always faster than
the latest conventional modems.
Using Telnet
As with FTP (Anonymous FTP), the actual command for negotiating a telnet
connection varies from system to system. The most common is
telnet itself, though. It takes the form of:
telnet somewhere.domain
To be safe, we'll use your local system as a working example. By now,
you hopefully know your site's domain name. If not, ask or try
to figure it out. You'll not get by without it.
To open the connection, type
telnet your.system.name
If the system were wubba.cs.widener.edu, for example, the
command would look like
telnet wubba.cs.widener.edu
The system will respond with something similar to
Trying 147.31.254.999...
Connected to wubba.cs.widener.edu.
Escape character is '^]'.
The escape character, in this example ^] (Control-]), is the
character that will let you go back to the local system to close the
connection, suspend it, etc. To close this connection, the user
would type ^], and respond to the telnet> prompt with the command
close. Local documentation should be checked for information on
specific commands, functions, and escape character that can be used.
Telnet Ports
Many telnet clients also include a third option, the port on
which the connection should take place. Normally, port 23 is the
default telnet port; the user never has to think about it. But
sometimes it's desirable to telnet to a different port on a system,
where there may be a service available, or to aid in debugging a
problem. Using
telnet somewhere.domain port
will connect the user to the given port on the system
somewhere.domain. Many libraries use this port method to offer their
facilities to the general Internet community; other services are also
available. For instance, one would type
telnet martini.eecs.umich.edu 3000
to connect to the geographic server at the University of Michigan
(Geographic Server). Other such port connections follow the
same usage.
Publicly Accessible Libraries
Over the last several years, most university libraries have switched
from a manual (card) catalog system to computerized library catalogs.
The automated systems provide users with easily accessible and
up-to-date information about the books available in these libraries.
This has been further improved upon with the advent of local area
networks, dialup modems, and wide area networks. Now many of us can
check on our local library's holdings or that of a library halfway
around the world!
Many, many institutions of higher learning have made their library
catalogs available for searching by anyone on the Internet. They
include Boston University, the Colorado Alliance of Research Libraries
(CARL), and London University King's College.
To include a listing of some of the existing sites would not only be
far too long for this document, it would soon be out of date.
Instead, several lists are being maintained and are available either
by mail or via FTP. Also, the Internet Resource Guide (IRG) also
describes a few libraries that are accessible---IRG for further
information.
Art St. George and Ron Larsen are maintaining a list of
Internet-accessible libraries and databases often referred to as
"the St. George directory." It began with only library catalogs
but has expanded to include sections on campus-wide information
systems, and even bulletin board systems that are not on the
Internet. The library catalog sections are divided into those that
are free, those that charge, and international (i.e. non-U.S.)
catalogs; they are arranged by state, province, or country within
each section. There is also a section giving dialup information for
some of the library catalogs. It's available for FTP (Anonymous FTP)
on nic.cerf.net in the directory
cerfnet/cerfnet_info/library_catalog. The file internet-catalogs has
a date suffix; check for the most current date. The information is
updated periodically.
Billy Barron, Systems Manager at the University of North Texas,
produces a directory as an aid to his user community. It complements
the St. George guide by providing a standard format for all systems
which lists the Internet address, login instructions, the system
vendor, and logoff information. The arrangement is alphabetic by
organization name. It's available for FTP on vaxb.acs.unt.edu in the
subdirectory library as the file libraries.txt.
For announcements of new libraries being available and discussion on
related topics, consult the Usenet newsgroup
comp.internet.library (Usenet News to learn how to read
news).
Bulletin Board Systems
The Cleveland Freenet
Freenets are open-access, free, community computer systems. One such
system is the Cleveland Freenet, sponsored by CWRU (Case Western
Reserve University). Anyone and everyone is welcome to join and take
part in the exciting project---that of a National Telecomputing Public
Network, where everyone benefits. There's no charge for the
registration process and no charge to use the system.
To register, telnet to any one of
freenet-in-a.cwru.edu
freenet-in-b.cwru.edu
freenet-in-c.cwru.edu
After you're connected, choose the entry on the menu that signifies
you're a guest user. Another menu will follow; select Apply for
an account, and you'll be well on your way to being a FreeNet member.
You will need to fill out a form and send it to them through the
Postal Service---your login id and password will be created in a few
days. At that point you're free to use the system as you wish. They
provide multi-user chat, email, Usenet news, and a variety of other
things to keep you occupied for hours on end.
Directories
There are a few systems that are maintained to provide the Internet
community with access to lists of information---users, organizations,
etc. They range from fully dedicated computers with access to papers
and research results, to a system to find out about the faculty
members of a university.
Knowbot
Knowbot is a "master directory" that contains email address
information from the NIC WHOIS database (Whois), the PSI White
Pages Pilot Project, the NYSERNET X.500 database and MCI Mail. Most
of these services are email registries themselves, but Knowbot
provides a very comfortable way to access all of them in one place.
Telnet to nri.reston.va.us on port 185.
White Pages
PSI maintains a directory of information on individuals. It will
list the person's name, organization, and email address if it is
given. Telnet to wp.psi.net and log in as fred. The White Pages
Project also includes an interface to use Xwindows remotely.
Faculty and Staff Listings
Many universities offer access to information on current faculty and
staff. Included are:
Cornell Telnet to cuinfo.cornell.edu on port 3000.
NC State Telnet to ccvax1.cc.ncsu.edu and log in as info.
Rutgers Telnet to hangout.rutgers.edu on port 98.
U of Maryland Telnet to umail.umd.edu and log in as lookup.
UNC Chapel Hill Telnet to info.acs.unc.edu and log in as info.
Yale Telnet to yalevm.ycc.yale.edu on port 300.
Databases
For information on database services, Commercial Databases.
Not all databases on the Internet require payment for use, though.
There do exist some, largely research-driven databases, which are
publicly accessible. New ones spring up regularly.
To find out more about the databases in this section, contact the
people directly responsible for them. Their areas of concentration
and the software used to implement them are widely disparate, and are
probably beyond the author's expertise. Also, don't forget to check
with your local library---the reference librarian there can provide
information on conventional resources, and possibly even those
available over the Internet (they are becoming more common).
Colorado Alliance of Research Libraries (CARL)
The Colorado Alliance of Research Libraries (CARL), in association
with CARL Systems Inc., operates a public access catalog of services.
Offered are a number of library databases, including searches for
government periodicals, book reviews, indices for current articles,
and access to to other library databases around the country. Other
services are available to CARL members including an online
encyclopedia. Telnet to pac.carl.org, or write to help@carl.org for
more details.
PENpages
PENpages is an agriculturally-oriented database administered by
Pennsylvania State University. Information entered into PENpages is
provided by numerous sources including the Pennsylvania Dept. of
Agriculture, Rutgers University, and Penn State. Easy-to-use menus
guide users to information ranging from cattle and agricultural
prices to current weather information, from health information to
agricultural news from around the nation. A keyword search option
also allows users to search the database for related information and
articles. The database is updated daily, and a listing of most
recent additions is displayed after login. Telnet to psupen.psu.edu
and log in as the user PNOTPA.
Clemson Univ. Forestry & Agricultural Network
Clemson maintains a database similar to PENpages in content, but the
information provided tends to be localized to the Southeastern United
States. A menu-driven database offers queries involving the weather,
food, family, and human resources. Telnet to eureka.clemson.edu and
log in as PUBLIC. You need to be on a good VT100 emulator (or a real
VT terminal).
University of Maryland Info Database
The Computer Science department of the University of Maryland
maintains a repository of information on a wide variety of topics.
They wish to give a working example of how network technology can
(and should) provide as much information as possible to those who use
it. Telnet to info.umd.edu and log in as info. The information
contained in the database is accessible through a screen-oriented
interface, and everything therein is available via anonymous FTP.
There is a mailing list used to discuss the UMD Info Database,
welcoming suggestions for new information, comments on the interface
the system provides, and other related topics. Send mail to
listserv@umdd.umd.edu with a body of
subscribe INFO-L Your Full Name
Listservs for more information on using the Listserv system.
University of Michigan Weather Underground
The University of Michigan's Department of Atmospheric, Oceanic, &
Space Sciences maintains a database of weather and related
information for the United States and Canada. Available are current
weather conditions and forecasts for cities in the U.S., a national
weather summary, ski conditions, earthquake and hurricane updates,
and a listing of severe weather conditions. Telnet to
madlab.sprl.umich.edu on port 3000 to use the system.
Geographic Name Server
A geographic database listing information for cities in the United
States and some international locations is maintained by Merit, Inc.
The database is searchable by city name, zip code, etc. It will
respond with a lot of information: the area code,
elevation, time zone, and longitude and latitude are included. For
example, a query of 19013 yields
0 Chester
1 42045 Delaware
2 PA Pennsylvania
3 US United States
F 45 Populated place
L 39 50 58 N 75 21 22 W
P 45794
E 22
Z 19013
Z 19014
Z 19015
Z 19016
..
To use the server, telnet to martini.eecs.umich.edu on port
3000. The command help will yield further instructions, along
with an explanation for each of the fields in a reponse.
FEDIX---Minority Scholarship Information
FEDIX is an on-line information service that links the higher
education community and the federal government to facilitate research,
education, and services. The system provides accurate and timely
federal agency information to colleges, universities, and other
research organizations. There are no registration fees and no access
charges for FEDIX whatsoever.
FEDIX offers the Minority On-Line Information Service (MOLIS), a
database listing current information about Black and Hispanic colleges
and universities.
Daily information updates are made on federal education and research
programs, scholarships, fellowships, and grants, available used
research equipment, and general information about FEDIX itself. To
access the database, telnet to fedix.fie.com and log in as
fedix.
Science & Technology Information System
The STIS is maintained by the National Science Foundation (NSF), and
provides access to many NSF publications. The full text of
publications can be searched online and copied from the system, which
can accommodate up to ten users at one time. Telnet to stis.nsf.gov
and log in as public. Everything on the system is also available via
anonymous FTP. For further information, contact:
STIS, Office of Information Systems, Room 401
National Science Foundation
1800 G. Street, N.W.
Washington, D.C. 20550
stis-request@nsf.gov
(202) 357-7492
(202) 357-7663 (Fax)
Ocean Network Information Center
The University of Delaware College of Marine Studies offers access to
an interactive database of research information covering all aspects
of marine studies, nicknamed OCEANIC. This includes the World Oceanic
Circulation Experiment (WOCE) information and program information,
research ship schedules and information, and a Who's Who of email and
mailing addresses for oceanic studies. Data from a variety of
academic institutions based on research studies is also available.
Telnet to delocn.udel.edu and log in as INFO.
NASA/IPAC Extragalactic Database (NED)
The NASA/IPAC Extragalactic Database (NED) is an ongoing project,
funded by NASA, to make data and literature on extragalactic objects
available over computer networks. NED is an object-oriented database
which contains extensive information for nearly 132,000 extragalactic
objects taken from about major catalogs of galaxies, quasars, infrared
and radio sources. NED provides positions, names, and other basic
data (e.g. magnitude types, sizes and redshifts as well as
bibliographic references and abstracts). Searches can be done by
name, around a name, and on an astronomical position. NED contains a
tutorial which guides the user through the retrieval process. Telnet
to ipac.caltech.edu and log in as ned.
U.S. Naval Observatory Automated Data Service
Operated by the U.S. Naval Observatory in Washington, D.C., this
automated data service provides database access to information
ranging from current navigational satellite positioning, astronomical
data, and software utilities. A wide variety of databases can be
searched and instructions for file transfer are given. Telnet to
tycho.usno.navy.mil and log in as ads.
"My consciousness suddenly switched locations, for the first time in
my life, from the vicinity of my head and body to a point about
twenty feet away from where I normally see the world." Howard
Rheingold, Virtual Reality p255
-----------------
Various Tools
New and interesting ways to use the Internet are being dreamed up
every day. As they gain wide-spread use, some methods become
near-standard (or actual written standard) tools for Internet users to
take advantage of. A few are detailed here; there are undoubtedly
others, and new ideas spring up all the time. An active user of the
Internet will discover most of the more common ones in time. Usually,
these services are free. Commercial Services for applications
that are commercially available over the Internet.
Usenet is often used to announce a new service or capability on
the Internet. In particular, the groups comp.archives and
comp.protocols.tcp-ip are good places to look. Information
will drift into other areas as word spreads. Usenet News for
information on reading news.
Finger
On many systems there exists the finger command, which yield
information about each user that's currently logged in. This command
also has extensions for use over the Internet, as well. Under normal
circumstances, the command is simply finger for a summary of who's
logged into the local system, or finger username for specific
information about a user. It's also possible to go one step further
and go onto the network. The general usage is
finger @hostname
To see who's currently logged in at Widener University, for instance, use
% finger @cs.widener.edu
[cs.widener.edu]
Login Name TTY Idle When Where
brendan Brendan Kehoe p0 Fri 02:14 tattoo.cs.widene
sven Sven Heinicke p1 Fri 04:16 xyplex3.cs.widen
To find out about a certain user, they can be fingered specifically
(and need not be logged in):
% finger bart@cs.widener.edu
[cs.widener.edu]
Login name: bart In real life: Bart Simpson
Directory: /home/springfield/bart Shell: /bin/underachiever
Affiliation: Brother of Lisa Home System: channel29.fox.org
Last login Thu May 23 12:14 (EDT) on ttyp6 from channel29.fox.org.
No unread mail
Project: To become a "fluff" cartoon character.
Plan:
Don't have a cow, man.
Please realize that some sites are very security conscious, and need
to restrict the information about their systems and users available
to the outside world. To that end, they often block finger requests
from outside sites---so don't be surprised if fingering a computer or
a user returns with Connection refused.
Internet Relay Chat
The Lamont View Server System
On lamont.ldgo.columbia.edu in pub/gb.tar.Z.
Ping
The ping command allows the user to check if another system is
currently "up" and running. The general form of the command
is ping system. {The usage will, again, vary.}
For example,
ping cs.widener.edu
will tell you if the main machine in Widener University's Computer
Science lab is currently online (we certainly hope so!).
Many implementations of ping also include an option to let you
see how fast a link is running (to give you some idea of the load on
the network). For example:
% ping -s cs.swarthmore.edu
PING cs.swarthmore.edu: 56 data bytes
64 bytes from 130.58.68.1: icmp_seq=0 ttl=251 time=66 ms
64 bytes from 130.58.68.1: icmp_seq=1 ttl=251 time=45 ms
64 bytes from 130.58.68.1: icmp_seq=2 ttl=251 time=46 ms
^C
--- cs.swarthmore.edu ping statistics ---
3 packets transmitted, 3 packets received, 0% packet loss
round-trip min/avg/max = 45/52/66 ms
This case tells us that for cs.swarthmore.edu it takes about 46
milliseconds for a packet to go from Widener to Swarthmore College and
back again. It also gives the average and worst-case speeds, and any
packet loss that may have occurred (e.g. because of network
congestion).
While ping generally doesn't hurt network performance, you
shouldn't use it too often---usually once or twice will leave
you relatively sure of the other system's state.
Talk
Sometimes email is clumsy and difficult to manage when one really
needs to have an interactive conversation. The Internet provides for
that as well, in the form of talk. Two users can literally see
each other type across thousands of miles.
To talk with Bart Simpson at Widener, one would type
talk bart@@cs.widener.edu
which would cause a message similar to the following to be displayed
on Bart's terminal:
Message from Talk_Daemon@cs.widener.edu at 21:45 ...
talk: connection requested by joe@ee.someplace.edu
talk: respond with: talk joe@ee.someplace.edu
Bart would, presumably, respond by typing talk joe@ee.someplace.edu.
They could then chat about whatever they wished, with instantaneous
response time, rather than the write-and-wait style of email. To
leave talk, on many systems one would type Ctrl-C (hold down
the Control key and press C). Check local documentation to be sure.
There are two different versions of talk in common use today. The
first, dubbed "old talk," is supported by a set of Unix systems
(most notably, those currently sold by Sun). The second, ntalk
(aka "new talk"), is more of the standard. If, when attempting to
talk with another user, it responds with an error about protocol
families, odds are the incompatibilities between versions of talk is
the culprit. It's up to the system administrators of sites which use
the old talk to install ntalk for their users.
Wide Area Information Servers (WAIS)
The WHOIS Database
The main WHOIS database is run at the Network Information Center
(NIC). The whois command will let you search a database of every
registered domain (e.g. mit.edu) and of registered users. It's
primarily used by system postmasters or listowners to find the Points
of Contact for a site, to let them know of a problem or contact them
for one reason or another. You can also find out their postal
address. For example:
% whois mit.edu
Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) MIT.EDU 18.72.2.1
Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT-DOM) MIT.EDU
Note that there are two entries for mit.edu; we'll go for the
second.
% whois mit-dom
Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT-DOM)
Cambridge, MA 02139
Domain Name: MIT.EDU
Administrative Contact, Technical Contact, Zone Contact:
Schiller, Jeffrey I. (JIS) JIS@MIT.EDU
(617) 253-8400
Record last updated on 22-Jun-88.
Domain servers in listed order:
STRAWB.MIT.EDU 18.71.0.151
W20NS.MIT.EDU 18.70.0.160
BITSY.MIT.EDU 18.72.0.3
LITHIUM.LCS.MIT.EDU 18.26.0.121
To see this host record with registered users, repeat the command with
a star ('*') before the name; or, use '%' to show JUST the registered users.
Much better! Now this information (sought, possibly, by a system
administrator) can be used to find out how to notify MIT of a security
issue or problem with connectivity.
Queries can be made for individuals as well; the following would yield
an entry for the author:
% whois brendan
Kehoe, Brendan (BK59) brendan@cs.widener.edu
Widener University
Department of Computer Science
Kirkbride 219
P.O. Box 83 Widener University
Chester, PA 19013
(215)/499-4011
Record last updated on 02-May-91.
Included is the author's name, his handle (a unique sequence of letters
and numbers), information on how to contact him, and the last time the record
was modified in any way.
Anyone can register with the whois database. People who are
administrative or technical contacts for domains are registered
automatically when their domain applications are processed. For
normal users, one must simply fill out a form from the NIC. FTP to
nic.ddn.mil and get the file netinfo/user-template.txt. The completed
form should be mailed to registrar@nic.ddn.mil.
Other Uses of WHOIS
Also, many educational sites run WHOIS servers of their own, to offer
information about people who may be currently on the staff or
attending the institution. To specify a WHOIS server, many
implementations include some sort of option or qualifier---in VMS
under MultiNet, it's /HOST, in Unix -h. To receive
information about using the Stanford server, one might use the command
whois -h stanford.edu help
A large list of systems offering WHOIS services is being maintained by
Matt Power of MIT (mhpower@stan.mit.edu). It is available via
anonymous FTP from sipb.mit.edu, in the directory
pub/whois. The file is named whois-servers.list.
The systems available include, but are certainly not limited to,
Syracuse University (syr.edu), New York University
(acfcluster.nyu.edu), the University of California at San Diego
(ucsd.edu), and Stanford University (stanford.edu).
"Fingers were made before forks."
Jonathan Swift, Polite Conversation
-------
Commercial Services
Many services can be accessed through the Internet. As time
progresses and more outlets for commercial activity appear,
once-restricted traffic (by the NSFnet Acceptable Use Policy) may now
flow freely. Now that there are other networks for that information
to travel on, businesses are making their move.
Internet Service Providers
Providers (AlterNet, PSI, etc)...
Supercomputers
The Internet Resource Guide (IRG) contains a chapter on
computer time that's available for a fee. Rather than reproduce it
here, which would fast become out-of-date as well as triple the size
of this guide, it's suggested that the reader consult the IRG if such
services are of interest.
Electronic Journals
The Association of Research Libraries (ARL) publishes a hard-copy
directory of electronic journals, newsletters, and scholarly
discussion lists. It is a compilation of entries for hundreds of
sts, dozens of journals and newsletters, and a many
"other" titles, including newsletter-digests, into one reference
source. Each entry includes instructions on how to access the
referenced publication or list.
The documents are available electronically by sending the commands
get ejournl1 directry
get ejournl2 directry
to the server at LISTSERV@OTTAWA.BITNET.
Listservs for further instructions on using a listserv.
The directory, along with a compilation by Diane Kovacs called
Directories of Academic E-Mail Conferences, is available in
print and on diskette (DOS WordPerfect and MacWord) from:
Office of Scientific & Academic Publishing
Association of Research Libraries
1527 New Hampshire Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20036
ARLHQ@UMDC.BITNET
(202) 232--2466
(202) 462--7849 (Fax)
The ARL is a not-for-profit organization representing over one
hundred research libraries in the United States and Canada. The
publication is available to ARL members for $10 and to non-members
for $20 (add $5 postage per directory for foreign addresses). Orders
of six or more copies will receive a 10% discount; all orders must be
prepaid and sent to the ARL.
Commercial Databases
The American Institute of Physics maintains the Physics Information
Network. It contains the bibliographic SPIN and General Physics
Advanced Abstracts databases. Also available is access to bulletin
boards and several searchable lists (job notices, announcements, etc).
Telnet to pinet.aip.org; new users must log in as NEW
and give registration information.
Some of the databases accessible through WAIS (WAIS) are
available for a fee.
Clarinet News
Clarinet's an electronic publishing network service that provides
professional news and information, including live UPI wireservice
news, in the Usenet file format.
Clarinet lets you read an "electronic newspaper" right on the local
system; you can get timely industry news, technology related
wirestories, syndicated columns and features, financial information,
stock quotes and more.
Clarinet's provided by using the Usenet message interchange format,
and is available via UUCP and other delivery protocols, including
NNTP.
The main feature is ClariNews, an "electronic newspaper,"
gathered live from the wire services of United Press International
(UPI). ClariNews articles are distributed in 100 newsgroups based on
their subject matter, and are keyworded for additional topics and the
geographical location of the story. ClariNews includes headlines,
industry news, box scores, network TV schedules, and more. The main
products of ClariNews are:
ClariNews General, the general news"paper" with news,
sports, and features, averaging about 400 stories per day.
TechWire, special groups for stories on science,
technology, and industry stories around them.
ClariNews-Biz, business and financial stories.
Newsbytes, a daily computer industry newsmagazine.
Syndicated Columns, including Dave Barry (humor) and Mike
Royko (opinion).
Full information on ClariNet, including subscription information, is
available from
Clarinet Communications Corp.
124 King St. North
Waterloo, Ontario N2J 2X8
info@@clarinet.com
(800) USE-NETS
or with anonymous FTP in the directory /Clarinet on
ftp.uu.net (Anonymous FTP).
"Needless to say, Aristotle did not envisage modern finance."
Frederick Copleston, S.J.
A History of Philosophy: Vol 1 Greece & Rome Part II, p95
---------
Things You'll Hear About
There are certain things that you'll hear about shortly after you
start actively using the Internet. Most people assume that everyone's
familiar with them, and they require no additional explanation. If
only that were true!
This section addresses a few topics that are commonly encountered and
asked about as a new user explores Cyberspace. Some of them are
directly related to how the networks are run today; other points are
simply interesting to read about.
The Internet Worm
from a letter by Severo M. Ornstein, in ACM June 89 Vol32 No6
and the appeal notice
On November 2, 1988, Robert Morris, Jr., a graduate student in
Computer Science at Cornell, wrote an experimental, self-replicating,
self-propagating program called a worm and injected it into the
Internet. He chose to release it from MIT, to disguise the fact that
the worm came from Cornell. Morris soon discovered that the program
was replicating and reinfecting machines at a much faster rate than
he had anticipated---there was a bug. Ultimately, many machines at
locations around the country either crashed or became "catatonic."
When Morris realized what was happening, he contacted a friend at
Harvard to discuss a solution. Eventually, they sent an anonymous
message from Harvard over the network, instructing programmers how to
kill the worm and prevent reinfection. However, because the network
route was clogged, this message did not get through until it was too
late. Computers were affected at many sites, including universities,
military sites, and medical research facilities. The estimated cost
of dealing with the worm at each installation ranged from $200 to
more than $53,000. {Derived in part from a letter by Severo M.
Ornstein, in the Communications of the ACM, Vol 32 No 6, June 1989.}
The program took advantage of a hole in the debug mode of the Unix
sendmail program, which runs on a system and waits for other systems
to connect to it and give it email, and a hole in the finger daemon
fingerd, which serves finger requests (Finger). People at the
University of California at Berkeley and MIT had copies of the
program and were actively disassembling it (returning the program
back into its source form) to try to figure out how it worked.
Teams of programmers worked non-stop to come up with at least a
temporary fix, to prevent the continued spread of the worm. After
about twelve hours, the team at Berkeley came up with steps that
would help retard the spread of the virus. Another method was also
discovered at Purdue and widely published. The information didn't
get out as quickly as it could have, however, since so many sites had
completely disconnected themselves from the network.
After a few days, things slowly began to return to normalcy and
everyone wanted to know who had done it all. Morris was later named
in The New York Times as the author (though this hadn't yet been
officially proven, there was a substantial body of evidence pointing
to Morris).
Robert T. Morris was convicted of violating the computer Fraud and
Abuse Act (Title 18), and sentenced to three years of probation, 400
hours of community service, a fine of $10,050, and the costs of his
supervision. His appeal, filed in December, 1990, was rejected the
following March.
The Cuckoo's Egg
First in an article entitled "Stalking the Wily Hacker," and later
in the book The Cuckoo's Egg, Clifford Stoll detailed his experiences
trying to track down someone breaking into a system at Lawrence
Berkeley Laboratory in California. {See the bibliography for full
citations.}
A 75-cent discrepancy in the Lab's accounting records led Stoll on a
chase through California, Virginia, and Europe to end up in a small
apartment in Hannover, West Germany. Stoll dealt with many levels of
bureaucracy and red tape, and worked with the FBI, the CIA, and the
German Bundespost trying to track his hacker down.
The experiences of Stoll, and particularly his message in speaking
engagements, have all pointed out the dire need for communication
between parties on a network of networks. The only way everyone can
peacefully co-exist in Cyberspace is by ensuring rapid recognition of
any existing problems.
Organizations
The indomitable need for humans to congregate and share their common
interests is also present in the computing world. User groups
exist around the world, where people share ideas and experiences.
Similarly, there are organizations which are one step "above" user
groups; that is to say, they exist to encourage or promote an idea or
set of ideas, rather than support a specific computer or application
of computers.
The Association for Computing Machinery
The Association for Computing Machinery (the ACM) was founded in
1947, immediately after Eckert and Mauchly unveiled one of the first
electronic computers, the ENIAC, in 1946. Since then, the ACM has
grown by leaps and bounds, becoming one of the leading educational
and scientific societies in the computer industry.
The ACM's stated purposes are:
To advance the sciences and arts of information processing;
To promote the free interchange of information about the sciences and
arts of information processing both among specialists and among the
public;
To develop and maintain the integrity and competence of individuals
engaged in the practices of the sciences and arts of information
processing.
Membership in the ACM has grown from seventy-eight in September, 1947,
to over 77,000 today. There are local chapters around the world, and
many colleges and universities endorse student chapters. Lecturers
frequent these meetings, which tend to be one step above the normal
"user group" gathering. A large variety of published material is
also available at discounted prices for members of the association.
The ACM has a number of Special Interest Groups (SIGs) that
concentrate on a certain area of computing, ranging from graphics to
the Ada programming language to security. Each of the SIGs also
publishes its own newsletter. There is a Usenet group, comp.org.acm,
for the discussion of ACM topics. Usenet News for more information
on reading news.
For more information and a membership application, write to:
Assocation for Computing Machinery
1515 Broadway
New York City, NY 10036
ACMHELP@ACMVM.BITNET
(212) 869-7440
Computer Professionals for Social Responsibility
from their letter to prospective members
The CPSR is an alliance of computer professionals concentrating on
certain areas of the impact of computer technology on society. It
traces its history to the fall of 1981, when several researchers in
Palo Alto, California, organized a lunch meeting to discuss their
shared concerns about the connection between computing and the
nuclear arms race. Out of that meeting and the discussions which
followed, CPSR was born, and has been active ever since. {This
section is part of the CPSR's letter to prospective members.}
The national CPSR program focuses on the following project areas:
Reliability and Risk This area reflects on the concern that
overreliance on computing technology can lead to unacceptable risks
to society. It includes, but isn't limited to, work in analyzing
military systems such as SDI.
Civil Liberties and Privacy This project is concerned with such
topics as the FBI National Crime Information Center, the growing use
of databases by both government and private industry, the right of
access to public information, extension of First Amendment rights to
electronic communication, and establishing legal protections for
privacy of computerized information.
Computers in the Workplace The CPSR Workplace Project has
concentrated its attention on the design of software for the
workplace, and particularly on the philosophy of "participatory
design," in which software designers work together with users to
ensure that systems meet the actual needs of that workplace.
The 21st Century Project This is a coalition with other
professional organizations working towards redirecting national
research priorities from concentrating on military issues to
anticipating and dealing with future problems as science and
technology enter the next century.
For more information on the CPSR, contact them at:
Computer Professionals for Social Responsibility
P.O. Box 717
Palo Alto, CA 94302
cpsr@csli.stanford.edu
(415) 322--3778
(415) 322--3798 (Fax)
The Electronic Frontier Foundation
The Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) was established to help
civilize the "electronic frontier"---the Cyberspacial medium
becoming ever-present in today's society; to make it truly useful and
beneficial not just to a technical elite, but to everyone; and to do
this in a way which is in keeping with the society's highest
traditions of the free and open flow of information and
communication. {This section was derived from eff.about, available
along with other material via anonymous FTP from ftp.eff.org}
The mission of the EFF is to engage in and support educational
activities which increase popular understanding of the opportunities
and challenges posed by developments in computing and
telecommunications;
to develop among policy-makers a better understanding of the
issues underlying free and open telecommunications, and support the
creation of legal and structural approaches which will ease the
assimilation of these new technologies by society;
to raise public awareness about civil liberties issues arising from
the rapid advancement in the area of new computer-based
communications media and, where necessary, support litigation in the
public interest to preserve, protect, and extend First Amendment
rights within the realm of computing and telecommunications
technology;
to encourage and support the development of new tools which will
endow non-technical users with full and easy access to computer-based
telecommunications;
The Usenet newsgroups comp.org.eff.talk and comp.org.eff.news are
dedicated to discussion concerning the EFF. They also have mailing
list counterparts for those that don't have access to Usenet,
eff-talk-request@eff.org and eff-news-request@eff.org. The first is
an informal arena (aka a normal newsgroup) where anyone may voice his
or her opinions. The second, comp.org.eff.news, is a moderated area
for regular postings from the EFF in the form of EFFector Online. To
submit a posting for the EFFector Online, or to get general
information about the EFF, write to eff@eff.org. There is also a
wealth of information available via anonymous FTP on ftp.eff.org.
The EFF can be contacted at
The Electronic Frontier Foundation, Inc.
155 Second St. #1
Cambridge, MA 02141
eff@eff.org
(617) 864-0665
(617) 864-0866 (Fax)
The Free Software Foundation
The Free Software Foundation was started by Richard Stallman (creator
of the popular GNU Emacs editor). It is dedicated to eliminating
restrictions on copying, redistributing, and modifying software.
The word "free" in their name does not refer to price; it refers to
freedom. First, the freedom to copy a program and redistribute it to
your neighbors, so that they can use it as well as you. Second, the
freedom to change a program, so that you can control it instead of it
controlling you; for this, the source code must be made available to
you.
The Foundation works to provide these freedoms by developing free
compatible replacements for proprietary software. Specifically, they
are putting together a complete, integrated software system called
"GNU" that is upward-compatible with Unix. {As an aside, the editor
of the GNU project, emacs, contains a built-in LISP interpreter and a
large part of its functionality is written in LISP. The name GNU is
itself recursive (the mainstay of the LISP language); it stands for
"Gnu's Not Unix."}
When it is released, everyone will be permitted to copy it and
distribute it to others. In addition, it will be distributed with
source code, so you will be able to learn about operating systems by
reading it, to port it to your own machine, and to exchange the
changes with others.
For more information on the Free Software Foundation and the status of
the GNU Project, or for a list of the current tasks that still need to
be done, write to gnu@prep.ai.mit.edu.
The IEEE
Need IEEE...
The League for Programming Freedom
The League for Programming Freedom is a grass-roots organization of
professors, students, businessmen, programmers and users dedicated to
"bringing back" the freedom to write programs, which they contend
has been lost over the past number years. The League is not opposed
to the legal system that Congress intended--copyright on individual
programs. Their aim is to reverse the recent changes made by judges in
response to special interests, often explicitly rejecting the public
interest principles of the Constitution.
The League works to abolish the new monopolies by publishing articles,
talking with public officials, boycotting egregious offenders, and in
the future may intervene in court cases. On May 24, 1989, the League
picketed Lotus headquarters because of their lawsuits, and then
again on August 2, 1990. These marches stimulated widespread media
coverage for the issue. They welcome suggestions for other
activities, as well as help in carrying them out.
For information on the League and how to join, write to
League for Programming Freedom
1 Kendall Square #143
P.O. Box 9171
Cambridge, MA 02139
league@prep.ai.mit.edu
Networking Initiatives
Research and development are two buzz words often heard when
discussing the networking field---everything needs to go faster, over
longer distances, for a lower cost. To "keep current," one should
read the various trade magazines and newspapers, or frequent the
networking-oriented newsgroups of Usenet. If possible, attend trade
shows and symposia like Usenix, Interop, et. al.
ISDN
NREN
The National Research and Education Network (NREN) is a five-year
project approved by Congress in the Fall of 1991. It's intended to
create a national electronic "super-highway." The NREN will be 50
times faster than the fastest available networks (at the time of this
writing). Proponents of the NREN claim it will be possible to
transfer the equivalent of the entire text of the Encyclopedia
Britannica in one second. Further information, including the
original text of the bill presented by Senator Al Gore (D--TN), is
available through anonymous FTP to nis.nsf.net, in the directory
nsfnet. In addition, Vint Cerf wrote on the then-proposed NREN in
RFC-1167, Thoughts on the National Research and Education Network.
RFCs for information on obtaining RFCs.
A mailing list, nren-discuss@uu.psi.com, is available for
discussion of the NREN; write to
nren-discuss-request@uu.psi.com to be added.
"To talk in publick, to think in solitude,
to read and to hear, to inquire,
and to answer inquiries, is the business of a scholar."
Samuel Johnson
Chapter VIII
The History of Rasselas, Prince of Abissinia
-----
Finding Out More
Internet Resource Guide
The NSF Network Service Center (NNSC) compiles and makes available an
Internet Resource Guide (IRG). The goal of the guide is to increase the
visibility of various Internet resources that may help users do their
work better. While not yet an exhaustive list, the guide is a useful
compendium of many resources and can be a helpful reference for a new
user.
Resources listed are grouped by types into sections. Current sections
include descriptions of online library catalogs, data archives, online
white pages directory services, networks, network information centers,
and computational resources, such as supercomputers. Each entry
describes the resource, identifies who can use the resource, explains
how to reach the local network via the Internet, and lists contacts
for more information. The list is distributed electronically by the
NNSC. To receive a guide, or to get on a mailing list that alerts you
to when it is updated, send a message to
resource-guide-request@nnsc.nsf.net.
The current edition of the IRG is available via anonymous FTP from
nnsc.nsf.net, in the directory /resource-guide.
Requests for Comments
The internal workings of the Internet are defined by a set of
documents called RFCs (Request for Comments). The general process
for creating an RFC is for someone wanting something formalized to
write a document describing the issue and mailing it to Jon Postel
(postel@isi.edu). He acts as a referee for the proposal. It is then
commented upon by all those wishing to take part in the discussion
(electronically, of course). It may go through multiple revisions.
Should it be generally accepted as a good idea, it will be assigned a
number and filed with the RFCs.
The RFCs can be divided into five groups: required, suggested,
directional, informational and obsolete. Required RFCs (e.g.,
RFC-791, The Internet Protocol) must be implemented on any host
connected to the Internet.
Suggested RFCs are generally implemented by network hosts. Lack of
them does not preclude access to the Internet, but may impact its
usability. RFC-793, Transmission Control Protocol, is a must for
those implementing TCP.
Directional RFCs were discussed and agreed to, but their application
has never come into wide use. This may be due to the lack of wide
need for the specific application (RFC-937, The Post Office Protocol) or
that, although technically superior, ran against other pervasive
approaches (RFC-891, Hello). It is suggested that, should the facility
be required by a particular site, an implementation be done in
accordance with the RFC. This ensures that, should the idea be one
whose time has come, the implementation will be in accordance with
some standard and will be generally usable.
Informational RFCs contain factual information about the Internet and
its operation (RFC-990, Assigned Numbers).
There is also a subset of RFCs called FYIs (For Your Information).
They are written in a language much more informal than that used in
the other, standard RFCs. Topics range from answers to common
questions for new and experienced users to a suggested bibliography.
Finally, as the Internet has grown and technology has changed, some
RFCs become unnecessary. These obsolete RFCs cannot be ignored,
however. Frequently when a change is made to some RFC that causes a
new one to obsolete others, the new RFC only contains explanations and
motivations for the change. Understanding the model on which the
whole facility is based may involve reading the original and
subsequent RFCs on the topic.
RFCs and FYIs are available via FTP from many sources, including:
The nic.ddn.mil archive, as /rfc/rfc-xxxx.txt, where
xxxx is the number of the RFC.
from ftp.uu.net, in the directory /RFC.
They're also available through mail by writing to
service@nic.ddn.mil, with a Subject: line of send RFC-xxxx.TXT, again
with xxxx being the RFC number.
"Knowledge is of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we
know where we can find information upon it."
Samuel Johnson
Letter to Lord Chesterfield
February, 1755
a book of quotes said April 18, 1775 .. the book of Johnson's works
said it's 1755; I'll go with the latter.
-------
Conclusion
This guide is far from complete---the Internet changes on a daily (if
not hourly) basis. However, this booklet should provide enough
information to make the incredible breadth and complexity of the
Internet a mite less imposing. Coupled with some exploration and
experimentation, every user has the potential to be a competent net
citizen, using the facilities that are available to their fullest.
You, the reader, are strongly encouraged to suggest improvements to
any part of this booklet. If something was unclear, left you with
doubts, or wasn't addressed, it should be fixed. If you find any
problems, inaccuracies, spelling errors, etc., please report them to:
Brendan Kehoe
Department of Computer Science
Widener University
Chester, PA 19013
Internet: guide-bugs@cs.widener.edu
UUCP: ...!widener!guide-bugs
If you are interested in future updates to this guide (aside from
normal new editions), discussion about information to be included or
removed, etc., write to guide-request@cs.widener.edu to be placed on
a mailing list for such things.
@dots is actually `. . . .'
"I've seed de first an de last @dots I seed de beginnin,
en now I sees de endin."
William Faulkner
The Sound & The Fury
April 8, 1928
--------
Getting to Other Networks
Inter-connectivity has been and always will be one of the biggest
goals in computer networking. The ultimate desire is to make it so
one person can contact anyone else no matter where they are. A number
of "gateways" between networks have been set up. They include:
AppleLink
Quantum Services sells access to AppleLink, which is similar to
QuantumLink for Commodore computers and PCLink for IBM PCs and
compatibles. It also provides email access through the address
user@applelink.apple.com.
ATTMail
AT&T sells a commercial email service called ATTMail. Its users
can be reached by writing to user@attmail.com.
BIX
Users on BIX (the Byte Information eXchange) can be reached
through the DAS gateway at user@cibix.das.net.
CompuServe (CI$)
To reach a user on the commercial service CompuServe, you must
address the mail as xxxxx.xxx@compuserve.com, with
xxxxx.xxx being their CompuServe user ID. Normally CompuServe
ids are represented as being separated by a comma (like
71999,141); since most mailers don't react well to having
commas in addresses, it was changed to a period. For the above
address, mail would be sent to 71999.141@compuserve.com.
EasyNet
Digital sells a service called EasyNet; users that subscribe to it can
be reached with the addresses user@host.enet.dec.com or
user%host.enet@decwrl.dec.com.
FidoNet
The FidoNet computer network can be reached by using a special
addressing method. If John Smith is on the node 1:2/3.4 on
FidoNet, his or her email address would be
john.smith@p4.f3.n2.z1.fidonet.org
(notice how the numbers fall in place?).
MCI Mail
MCI also sells email accounts (similar to ATTMail). Users can be
reached with user@mcimail.com.
PeaceNet
Users on the PeaceNet network can be reached by writing to
user@igc.org.
The Well
Users on the service The Well can be reached by writing to
user@well.sf.ca.us. The Well is directly connected to the Internet.
This table is far from complete. In addition to sites not being
listed, some services are not (nor do they plan to be) accessible
from the "outside" (like Prodigy); others, like GEnie, are actively
investigating the possibility of creating a gateway into their
system. For the latest information, consult a list called the
Inter-Network Mail Guide. It's available from a number of FTP sites,
including UUNET; Anonymous FTP, for more information on getting a
copy of it using anonymous FTP.
Retrieving Files via Email
For those who have a connection to the Internet, but cannot FTP, there
do exist a few alternatives to get those files you so desperately
need. When requesting files, it's imperative that you keep in mind
the size of your request---odds are the other people who may be using
your link won't be too receptive to sudden bursts of really heavy
traffic on their normally sedate connection.
Archive Servers
An alternative to the currently well over-used FTPmail system is
taking advantage of the many archive servers that are presently
being maintained. These are programs that receive email messages that
contain commands, and act on them. For example, sending an archive
server the command help will usually yield, in the form of a
piece of email, information on how to use the various commands that
the server has available.
One such archive server is service@nic.ddn.mil. Maintained by
the Network Information Center (NIC) in Chantilly, VA, the server is
set up to make all of the information at the NIC available for people
who don't have access to FTP. This also includes the WHOIS service
(Whois). Some sample Subject: lines for queries to the
NIC server are:
Subject: help Describes available commands.
Subject: rfc 822 Sends a copy of RFC-822.
Subject: rfc index Sends an index of the available RFCs.
Subject: netinfo domain-template.txt Sends a domain application.
Subject: whois widener Sends WHOIS information on `widener'.
More information on using their archive server can be obtained by
writing to their server address service@nic.ddn.mil with a
Subject: of help.
There are different "brands" of archive server, each with its own
set of commands and services. Among them there often exists a common
set of commands and services (e.g. index, help, etc).
Be that as it may, one should always consult the individual help for a
specific server before assuming the syntax---100K surprises can be
hard on a system.
FTP-by-Mail Servers
Some systems offer people the ability to receive files through a
mock-FTP interface via email. Anonymous FTP for a general overview of
how to FTP. The effects of providing such a service varies, although
a rule of thumb is that it will probably use a substantial amount of
the available resources on a system.
The "original" FTP-by-Mail service, BITFTP, is available to BITNET
users from the Princeton node PUCC. It was once accessible to
anyone, but had to be closed out to non-BITNET users because of the
heavy load on the system.
In response to this closure, Paul Vixie designed and installed a
system called FTPmail on one of Digital's gateway computers,
decwrl.dec.com. Write to ftpmail@decwrl.dec.com with help in the
body of the letter for instructions on its use. The software is
undergoing constant development; once it reaches a stable state,
other sites will be encouraged to adopt it and provide the service
also.
Newsgroup Creation
Everyone has the opportunity to make a Call For Votes on the
Usenet and attempt to create a newsgroup that he/she feels would be of
benefit to the general readership. The rules governing newsgroup
creation have evolved over the years into a generally accepted method.
They only govern the "world" groups; they aren't applicable to
regional or other alternative hierarchies.
Discussion
A discussion must first take place to address issues like the naming
of the group, where in the group tree it should go (e.g.
rec.sports.koosh vs rec.games.koosh?), and whether or not it should
be created in the first place. The formal Request For Discussion
(RFD) should be posted to news.announce.newgroups, along with any
other groups or mailing lists at all related to the proposed topic.
news.announce.newgroups is moderated. You should place it first in
the Newsgroups: header, so that it will get mailed to the moderator
only. The article won't be immediately posted to the other
newsgroups listed; rather, it will give you the opportunity to have
the moderator correct any inconsistencies or mistakes in your RFD.
He or she will take care of posting it to the newsgroups you
indicated. Also the Followup-To: header will be set so that the
actual discussion takes place only in news.groups. If a user has
difficulty posting to a moderated group, he or she may mail
submissions intended for news.announce.newgroups to the address
announce-newgroups@rpi.edu.
The final name and charter of the group, and whether it will be
moderated or unmoderated, will be determined during the discussion
period. If it's to be moderated, the discussion will also decide who
the moderator will be. If there's no general agreement on these
points among those in favor of a new group at the end of 30 days,
the discussion will be taken into mail rather than continued posting
to news.groups; that way, the proponents of the group can iron out
their differences and come back with a proper proposal, and make
a new Request For Discussion.
Voting
After the discussion period (which is mandatory), if it's been
determined that a new group really is desired, a name and charter are
agreed upon, and it's been determined whether the group will be
moderated (and by whom), a Call For Votes (CFV) should be posted
to news.announce.newgroups, along with any other groups that
the original Request For Discussion was posted to. The CFV should be
posted (or mailed to the news.announce.newgroups moderator) as
soon as possible after the discussion ends (to keep it fresh in
everyone's mind).
The Call for Votes should include clear instructions on how to cast a
vote. It's important that it be clearly explained how to both vote
for and against a group (and be of equivalent difficulty or
ease). If it's easier for you or your administrator, two separate
addresses can be used to mail yes and no votes to, providing that
they're on the same machine. Regardless of the method, everyone
must have a very specific idea of how to get his/her vote counted.
The voting period can last between 21 and 31 days, no matter what the
preliminary results of the vote are. A vote can't be called off
simply because 400 "no" votes have come in and only two "yes"
votes. The Call for Votes should include the exact date that the
voting period will end---only those votes arriving on the vote-taker's
machine before this date can be counted.
To keep awareness high, the CFV can be repeated during the vote,
provided that it gives the same clear, unbiased instructions for
casting a vote as the original; it also has to be the same proposal as
was first posted. The charter can't change in mid-vote. Also, votes
that're posted don't count---only those that were mailed to the
vote-taker can be tallied.
Partial results should never be included; only a statement of
the specific proposal, that a vote is in progress on it, and how to
cast a vote. A mass acknowledgement ("Mass ACK" or "Vote ACK") is
permitted; however, it must be presented in a way that gives no
indication of which way a person voted. One way to avoid this is to
create one large list of everyone who's voted, and sort it in
alphabetical order. It should not be two sorted lists (of the yes and
no votes, respectively).
Every vote is autonomous. The votes for or against one group can't be
transferred to another, similar proposal. A vote can only count for
the exact proposal that it was a response to. In particular, a vote
for or against a newsgroup under one name can't be counted as a vote
for or against another group with a different name or charter, a
different moderated/unmoderated status, or, if it's moderated, a
different moderator or set of moderators. Whew!
Finally, the vote has to be explicit; they should be of the form I
vote for the group foo.bar as proposed or I vote against the group
foo.bar as proposed. The wording doesn't have to be exact, your
intention just has to be clear.
The Result of a Vote
At the end of the voting period, the vote-taker has to post (to
news.announce.newgroups) the tally and email addresses of the votes
received. Again, it can also be posted to any of the groups listed in
the original CFV. The tally should make clear which way a person
voted, so the results can be verified if it proves necessary to do so.
After the vote result is posted to news.announce.newgroups,
there is a mandatory five-day waiting period. This affords everyone
the opportunity to correct any errors or inconsistencies in the voter
list or the voting procedure.
Creation of the Group
If, after the waiting period, there are no serious objections that
might invalidate the vote, the vote is put to the "water test." If
there were 100 more valid YES/create votes than NO/don't create
votes, and at least two-thirds of the total number of votes are in
favor of creation, then a newgroup control message can be sent out
(often by the moderator of news.announce.newgroups). If the 100-vote
margin or the two-thirds percentage isn't met, the group has failed
and can't be created.
If the proposal failed, all is not lost---after a six-month waiting
period (a "cooling down"), a new Request For Discussion can be posted
to news.groups, and the whole process can start over again. If after
a couple of tries it becomes obvious that the group is not
wanted or needed, the vote-taker should humbly step back and accept
the opinion of the majority. (As life goes, so goes Usenet.)
--------
Glossary
This glossary is only a tiny subset of all of the various terms and
other things that people regularly use on The Net. For a more
complete (and very entertaining) reference, it's suggested you get a
copy of The New Hacker's Dictionary, which is based on a VERY large
text file called the Jargon File. Edited by Eric Raymond
(eric@snark.thyrsus.com), it is available from the MIT Press,
Cambridge, Massachusetts, 02142; its ISBN number is 0-262-68069-6.
Also see RFC-1208, A Glossary of Networking Terms.
This odd symbol is one of the ways a person can portray "mood" in
the very flat medium of computers---by using "smilies." This is
`metacommunication', and there are literally hundreds of them, from
the obvious to the obscure. This particular example expresses
"happiness." Don't see it? Tilt your head to the left 90 degrees.
Smilies are also used to denote sarcasm.
Network addresses are usually of two types:
the physical or hardware address of a network interface card; for
ethernet this 48-bit address might be 0260.8C00.7666. The hardware
address is used to forward packets within a physical network.
Fortunately, network users do not have to be concerned about hardware
addresses since they are automatically handled by the networking
software.
The logical or Internet address is used to facilitate moving data
between physical networks. The 32-bit Internet address is made up of a
network number, a subnetwork number, and a host number. Each host
computer on the Internet, has a unique address. For example, all
Internet addresses at Colorado State have a network number of 129.82, a
subnet number in the range of 1-254, and a host number in the range of
1-254. All Internet hosts have a numeric address and an English-style
name. For example, the Internet address for UCC's CYBER 840 is
129.82.103.96; its Internet name is csugreen.UCC.ColoState.EDU.
address resolution
Conversion of an Internet address to the corresponding physical address.
On an ethernet, resolution requires broadcasting on the local area network.
administrivia
Administrative tasks, most often related to the maintenance of mailing
lists, digests, news gateways, etc.
anonymous FTP
Also known as "anon FTP"; a service provided to make files available
to the general Internet community---Anonymous FTP.
ANSI
The American National Standards Institute disseminates basic standards
like ASCII, and acts as the United States' delegate to the ISO.
Standards can be ordered from ANSI by writing to the ANSI Sales Department,
1430 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, or by telephoning (212) 354-3300.
archie
A service which provides lookups for packages in a database of the
offerings of countless of anonymous FTP sites. archie for a
full description.
archive server
An email-based file transfer facility offered by some systems.
ARPA (Advanced Research Projects Agency)
Former name of DARPA, the government agency that funded ARPAnet and
later the DARPA Internet.
ARPAnet
A pioneering long haul network funded by ARPA. It
served as the basis for early networking research as well as a
central backbone during the development of the Internet. The
ARPAnet consisted of individual packet switching computers
interconnected by leased lines. The ARPAnet no longer exists as a
singular entity.
asynchronous
Transmission by individual bytes, not related to specific timing on the
transmitting end.
auto-magic
Something which happens pseudo-automatically, and is usually too
complex to go into any further than to say it happens "auto-magically."
backbone
A high-speed connection within a network that connects shorter,
usually slower circuits. Also used in reference to a system that acts
as a "hub" for activity (although those are becoming much less
prevalent now than they were ten years ago).
bandwidth
The capacity of a medium to transmit a signal. More informally, the
mythical "size" of The Net, and its ability to carry the files and
messages of those that use it. Some view certain kinds of traffic
(FTPing hundreds of graphics images, for example) as a "waste of
bandwidth" and look down upon them.
BITNET (Because It's Time Network)
An NJE-based international educational network.
bounce
The return of a piece of mail because of an error in its delivery.
btw
An abbreviation for "by the way."
CFV (Call For Votes)
Initiates the voting period for a Usenet newsgroup. At least one
(occasionally two or more) email address is customarily included as a
repository for the votes. See Newsgroup Creation
for a full description of the Usenet voting process.
ClariNews
The fee-based Usenet newsfeed available from ClariNet Communications.
client
The user of a network service; also used to describe a computer that
relies upon another for some or all of its resources.
Cyberspace
A term coined by William Gibson in his fantasy novel
Neuromancer to describe the "world" of computers, and the
society that gathers around them.
datagram
The basic unit of information passed across the Internet. It contains
a source and destination address along with data. Large messages are
broken down into a sequence of IP datagrams.
disassembling
Converting a binary program into human-readable machine language code.
DNS (Domain Name System)
The method used to convert Internet names to their corresponding
Internet numbers.
domain
A part of the naming hierarchy. Syntactically, a domain name consists
of a sequence of names or other words separated by dots.
dotted quad
A set of four numbers connected with periods that make up an Internet
address; for example, 147.31.254.130.
email
The vernacular abbreviation for electronic mail.
email address
The UUCP or domain-based address that a user is referred to with. For
example, the author's address is brendan@cs.widener.edu.
ethernet
A 10-million bit per second networking scheme originally developed by
Xerox Corporation. Ethernet is widely used for LANs because it can
network a wide variety of computers, it is not proprietary, and
components are widely available from many commercial sources.
FDDI (Fiber Distributed Data Interface)
An emerging standard for network technology based on fiber optics that
has been established by ANSI. FDDI specifies a 100-million bit per
second data rate. The access control mechanism uses token ring
technology.
flame
A piece of mail or a Usenet posting which is violently argumentative.
FQDN (Fully Qualified Domain Name)
The FQDN is the full site name of a system, rather than just its
hostname. For example, the system lisa at Widener University
has a FQDN of lisa.cs.widener.edu.
FTP (File Transfer Protocol)
The Internet standard high-level protocol for transferring files from
one computer to another.
FYI
An abbreviation for the phrase "for your information." There is
also a series of RFCs put out by the Network Information Center called
FYIs; they address common questions of new users and many other useful
things. RFCs for instructions on retrieving FYIs.
gateway
A special-purpose dedicated computer that attaches to two or more
networks and routes packets from one network to the other. In
particular, an Internet gateway routes IP datagrams among the networks
it connects. Gateways route packets to other gateways until they can be
delivered to the final destination directly across one physical network.
header
The portion of a packet, preceding the actual data, containing source
and destination addresses and error-checking fields. Also part of a
message or news article.
hostname
The name given to a machine. (See also FQDN.)
IMHO (In My Humble Opinion)
This usually accompanies a statement that may bring about personal
offense or strong disagreement.
Internet
A concatenation of many individual TCP/IP campus, state, regional, and
national networks (such as NSFnet, ARPAnet, and Milnet) into one
single logical network all sharing a common addressing scheme.
Internet number
The dotted-quad address used to specify a certain system. The
Internet number for the site cs.widener.edu is 147.31.254.130. A
resolver is used to translate between hostnames and Internet
addresses.
interoperate
The ability of multi-vendor computers to work together using a common
set of protocols. With interoperability, PCs, Macs, Suns, Dec VAXen,
CDC Cybers, etc, all work together allowing one host computer to
communicate with and take advantage of the resources of another.
ISO (International Organization for Standardization)
Coordinator of the main networking standards that are put into use today.
kernel
The level of an operating system or networking system that contains the
system-level commands or all of the functions hidden from the user. In
a Unix system, the kernel is a program that contains the device drivers,
the memory management routines, the scheduler, and system calls. This
program is always running while the system is operating.
LAN (Local Area Network)
Any physical network technology that operates at high speed over short
distances (up to a few thousand meters).
mail gateway
A machine that connects to two or more electronic mail systems
(especially dissimilar mail systems on two different networks) and
transfers mail messages among them.
mailing list
A possibly moderated discussion group, distributed via email from a
central computer maintaining the list of people involved in the
discussion.
mail path
A series of machine names used to direct electronic mail from one user
to another.
medium
The material used to support the transmission of data. This can be
copper wire, coaxial cable, optical fiber, or electromagnetic wave (as in
microwave).
multiplex
The division of a single transmission medium into multiple logical
channels supporting many simultaneous sessions. For example, one
network may have simultaneous FTP, telnet, rlogin, and SMTP
connections, all going at the same time.
net.citizen
An inhabitant of Cyberspace. One usually tries to be a good
net.citizen, lest one be flamed.
netiquette
A pun on "etiquette"; proper behavior on The Net. Usenet Netiquette.
network
A group of machines connected together so they can transmit information
to one another. There are two kinds of networks: local networks and
remote networks.
NFS (Network File System)
A method developed by Sun Microsystems to allow computers to share
files across a network in a way that makes them appear as if they're
"local" to the system.
NIC
The Network Information Center.
node
A computer that is attached to a network; also called a host.
NSFnet
The national backbone network, funded by the National Science Foundation
and operated by the Merit Corporation, used to interconnect regional
(mid-level) networks such as WestNet to one another.
packet
The unit of data sent across a packet switching network. The term is
used loosely. While some Internet literature uses it to refer
specifically to data sent across a physical network, other literature
views the Internet as a packet switching network and describes IP
datagrams as packets.
polling
Connecting to another system to check for things like mail or news.
postmaster
The person responsible for taking care of mail problems, answering
queries about users, and other related work at a site.
protocols
A formal description of message formats and the rules two computers must
follow to exchange those messages. Protocols can describe low-level
details of machine-to-machine interfaces (e.g., the order in which bits
and bytes are sent across a wire) or high-level exchanges between
allocation programs (e.g., the way in which two programs transfer a file
across the Internet).
recursion
The facility of a programming language to be able to call functions
from within themselves.
resolve
Translate an Internet name into its equivalent IP address or other DNS
information.
RFD (Request For Discussion)
Usually a two- to three-week period in which the particulars of
newsgroup creation are battled out.
route
The path that network traffic takes from its source to its destination.
router
A dedicated computer (or other device) that sends packets from one
place to another, paying attention to the current state of the network.
RTFM (Read The Fantastic Manual).
This anacronym is often used when someone asks a simple or common
question. The word `Fantastic' is usually replaced with one much more
vulgar.
SMTP (Simple Mail Transfer Protocol)
The Internet standard protocol for transferring electronic mail messages
from one computer to another. SMTP specifies how two mail systems
interact and the format of control messages they exchange to transfer
mail.
server
A computer that shares its resources, such as printers and files, with
other computers on the network. An example of this is a Network File
System (NFS) server which shares its disk space with other computers.
signal-to-noise ratio
When used in reference to Usenet activity, signal-to-noise
ratio describes the relation between amount of actual information in
a discussion, compared to their quantity. More often than not,
there's substantial activity in a newsgroup, but a very small number
of those articles actually contain anything useful.
signature
The small, usually four-line message at the bottom of a piece of email
or a Usenet article. In Unix, it's added by creating a file
..signature in the user's home directory. Large signatures are
a no-no.
summarize
To encapsulate a number of responses into one coherent, usable
message. Often done on controlled mailing lists or active newsgroups,
to help reduce bandwidth.
synchronous
Data communications in which transmissions are sent at a fixed rate,
with the sending and receiving devices synchronized.
TCP/IP (Transmission Control Protocol/Internet Protocol)
A set of protocols, resulting from ARPA efforts, used by the Internet to
support services such as remote login (telnet), file transfer
(FTP) and mail (SMTP).
telnet
The Internet standard protocol for remote terminal connection service.
Telnet allows a user at one site to interact with a remote timesharing
system at another site as if the user's terminal were connected directly
to the remote computer.
terminal server
A small, specialized, networked computer that connects many terminals to
a LAN through one network connection. Any user on the network can then
connect to various network hosts.
TeX
A free typesetting system by Donald Knuth.
twisted pair
Cable made up of a pair of insulated copper wires wrapped around each
other to cancel the effects of electrical noise.
UUCP (Unix to Unix Copy Program)
A store-and-forward system, primarily for Unix systems but currently
supported on other platforms (e.g. VMS and personal computers).
WAN (Wide-Area Network)
A network spanning hundreds or thousands of miles.
workstation
A networked personal computing device with more power than a standard
IBM PC or Macintosh. Typically, a workstation has an operating system
such as unix that is capable of running several tasks at the same time.
It has several megabytes of memory and a large, high-resolution display.
Examples are Sun workstations and Digital DECstations.
worm
A computer program which replicates itself. The Internet worm
(The Internet Worm) was perhaps the most famous; it
successfully (and accidentally) duplicated itself on systems across
the Internet.
wrt
With respect to.
"I hate definitions."
Benjamin Disraeli
Vivian Grey, bk i chap ii
------
Bibliography
What follows is a compendium of sources that have information that
will be of use to anyone reading this guide. Most of them were used
in the writing of the booklet, while others are simply noted because
they are a must for any good net.citizen's bookshelf.
Books
Comer, Douglas E.
Internetworking With TCP/IP, 2nd ed., 2v
Prentice Hall
Englewood Cliffs, NJ
1991
Davidson, John
An Introduction to TCP/IP
Springer-Verlag
Berlin
1988
Frey, Donnalyn, and Adams, Rick
!@%:: A Directory of Electronic Mail Addressing and Networks
O'Reilly and Associates
Newton, MA
1989
Gibson, William
Neuromancer
Ace
New York, NY
1984
LaQuey, Tracy
Users' Directory of Computer Networks
Digital Press
Bedford, MA
1990
Levy, Stephen
Hackers: Heroes of the Computer Revolution
Anchor Press/Doubleday
Garden City, NY
1984
Partridge, Craig
Innovations in Internetworking
ARTECH House
Norwood, MA
1988
Quarterman, John S.
The Matrix: Computer Networks and Conferencing Systems Worldwide
Digital Press
Bedford, MA
1989
Raymond, Eric (ed)
The New Hacker's Dictionary
MIT Press
Cambridge, MA
1991
Stoll, Clifford
The Cuckoo's Egg
Doubleday
New York
1989
Tanenbaum, Andrew S.
Computer Networks, 2d ed
Prentice-Hall
Englewood Cliffs, NJ
1988
Todinao, Grace
Using UUCP and USENET: A Nutshell Handbook
O'Reilly and Associates
Newton, MA
1986
The Waite Group
Unix Communications, 2nd ed.
Howard W. Sams & Company
Indianapolis
1991
Periodicals & Papers
magazine: Barlow, J
Coming Into The Country
Communications of the ACM 34:3
2
March 1991
Addresses "Cyberspace"---John Barlow was a co-founder of the EFF.
proceedings: Collyer, G., and Spencer, H
News Need Not Be Slow
Proceedings of the 1987 Winter USENIX Conference
181--90
USENIX Association, Berkeley, CA
January 1987
magazine: Denning, P
The Internet Worm
American Scientist
126--128
March--April 1989
magazine: The Science of Computing: Computer Networks
American Scientist
127--129
March--April 1985
magazine: Frey, D., and Adams, R
USENET: Death by Success?
UNIX REVIEW
55--60
August 1987
magazine: Gifford, W. S
ISDN User-Network Interfaces
IEEE Journal on Selected Areas in Communications
343--348
May 1986
magazine: Ginsberg, K
Getting from Here to There
UNIX REVIEW
45
January 1986
magazine: Hiltz, S. R
The Human Element in Computerized Conferencing Systems
Computer Networks
421--428
December 1978
proceedings: Horton, M
What is a Domain?
Proceedings of the Summer 1984 USENIX Conference
368--372
USENIX Association, Berkeley, CA
June 1984
magazine: Jacobsen, Ole J
Information on TCP/IP
ConneXions---The Interoperability Report
14--15
July 1988
magazine: Jennings, D., et al
Computer Networking for Scientists
Science
943--950
28 February 1986
paper: Markoff, J
"Author of computer `virus' is son of U.S. electronic security expert."
New York Times
Nov. 5, 1988
A1
paper: "Computer snarl: A `back door' ajar."
New York Times
Nov. 7, 1988
B10
magazine: McQuillan, J. M., and Walden, D. C
The ARPA Network Design Decisions
Computer Networks
243--289
1977
magazine: Ornstein, S. M
A letter concerning the Internet worm
Communications of the ACM 32:6
June 1989
proceedings: Partridge, C
Mail Routing Using Domain Names: An Informal Tour
Proceedings of the 1986 Summer USENIX Conference
366--76
USENIX Association, Berkeley, CA
June 1986
magazine: Quarterman, J
Etiquette and Ethics
ConneXions---The Interoperability Report
12--16
March 1989
magazine: Notable Computer Networks
Communications of the ACM 29:10
October 1986
This was the predecessor to The Matrix.
magazine: Raeder, A. W., and Andrews, K. L
Searching Library Catalogs on the Internet: A Survey
Database Searcher 6
16--31
September 1990
proceedings: Seeley, D
A tour of the worm
Proceedings of the 1989 Winter USENIX Conference
287--304
USENIX Association, Berkeley, CA
February 1989
magazine: Shulman, G
Legal Research on USENET Liability Issues
;login: The USENIX Association Newsletter
11--17
December 1984
magazine: Smith, K
E-Mail to Anywhere
PC World
220--223
March 1988
magazine: Stoll, C
Stalking the Wily Hacker
Communications of the ACM 31:5
14
May 1988
This article grew into the book The Cuckoo's Egg.
proceedings: Taylor, D
The Postman Always Rings Twice: Electronic Mail in a Highly Distributed
Environment
Proceedings of the 1988 Winter USENIX Conference
145--153
USENIX Association, Berkeley, CA
December 1988
magazine: U.S.Gen'l Accounting Ofc
Computer Security: Virus Highlights Need for Improved Internet Management
GAO/IMTEC-89-57,
1989
Addresses the Internet worm.
"And all else is literature."
Paul Verlaine
The Sun, New York
While he was city editor in 1873--1890.
--
Bill Walther, Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
Through the Looking-Glass
[Illustration]
THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS
And What Alice Found There
By Lewis Carroll
The Millennium Fulcrum Edition 1.7
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
(_As arranged before commencement of game._)
WHITE RED.
PIECES. PAWNS. PAWNS. PIECES.
Tweedledee. Daisy. Daisy. Humpty Dumpty.
Unicorn. Haigha. Messenger. Carpenter.
Sheep. Oyster. Oyster. Walrus.
W. Queen. “Lily.” Tiger-lily. R. Queen.
W. King. Fawn. Rose. R. King.
Aged man. Oyster. Oyster. Crow.
W. Knight. Hatta. Frog. R. Knight.
Tweedledum. Daisy. Daisy. Lion.
_RED._
[Illustration: chessboard]
_WHITE._
White Pawn (Alice) to play, and win in eleven moves.
1. Alice meets R. Q.
1. R. Q. to K. R.’s 4th
2. Alice through Q.’s 3d (_by railway_) to 4th (_Tweedledum and Tweedledee_)
2. W. Q. to Q. B.’s 4th (_after shawl_)
3. Alice meets W. Q. (_with shawl_)
3. W. Q. to Q.B.’s 5th (_becomes sheep_)
4. Alice to Q.’s 5th (_shop, river, shop_)
4. W. Q. to K. B.’s 8th (_leaves egg on shelf_)
5. Alice to Q.’s 6th (_Humpty Dumpty_)
5. W. Q. to Q. B.’s 8th (_flying from R. Kt._)
6. Alice to Q.’s 7th (_forest_)
6. R. Kt. to K.’s 2nd (ch.)
7. W.Kt. takes R.Kt.
7. W. Kt. to K. B’s 5th
8. Alice to Q.’s 8th (_coronation_)
8. R. Q. to K.’s sq. (_examination_)
9. Alice becomes Queen
9. Queens castle
10. Alice castles (_feast_)
10. W.Q. to Q.R.’s 6th (_soup_)
11. Alice takes R.Q. & wins
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.
Contents
CHAPTER I. Looking-Glass house
CHAPTER II. The Garden of Live Flowers
CHAPTER III. Looking-Glass Insects
CHAPTER IV. Tweedledum And Tweedledee
CHAPTER V. Wool and Water
CHAPTER VI. Humpty Dumpty
CHAPTER VII. The Lion and the Unicorn
CHAPTER VIII. “It’s my own Invention”
CHAPTER IX. Queen Alice
CHAPTER X. Shaking
CHAPTER XI. Waking
CHAPTER XII. Which Dreamed it?
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 can’t deny 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.
“Kitty, can you play chess? Now, don’t smile, my dear, I’m asking it
seriously. Because, when we were playing just now, you watched just as
if you understood it: and when I said ‘Check!’ you purred! Well, it
_was_ a nice check, Kitty, and really I might have won, if it hadn’t
been for that nasty Knight, that came wiggling down among my pieces.
Kitty, dear, let’s pretend—” And here I wish I could tell you half the
things Alice used to say, beginning with her favourite phrase “Let’s
pretend.” She had had quite a long argument with her sister only the
day before—all because Alice had begun with “Let’s pretend we’re kings
and queens;” and her sister, who liked being very exact, had argued
that they couldn’t, because there were only two of them, and Alice had
been reduced at last to say, “Well, _you_ can be one of them then, and
_I’ll_ be all the rest.” And once she had really frightened her old
nurse by shouting suddenly in her ear, “Nurse! Do let’s pretend that
I’m a hungry hyaena, and you’re a bone.”
But this is taking us away from Alice’s speech to the kitten. “Let’s
pretend that you’re the Red Queen, Kitty! Do you know, I think if you
sat up and folded your arms, you’d look exactly like her. Now do try,
there’s a dear!” And Alice got the Red Queen off the table, and set it
up before the kitten as a model for it to imitate: however, the thing
didn’t succeed, principally, Alice said, because the kitten wouldn’t
fold its arms properly. So, to punish it, she held it up to the
Looking-glass, that it might see how sulky it was—“and if you’re not
good directly,” she added, “I’ll put you through into Looking-glass
House. How would you like _that_?”
“Now, if you’ll only attend, Kitty, and not talk so much, I’ll tell you
all my ideas about Looking-glass House. First, there’s the room you can
see through the glass—that’s just the same as our drawing room, only
the things go the other way. I can see all of it when I get upon a
chair—all but the bit behind the fireplace. Oh! I do so wish I could
see _that_ bit! I want so much to know whether they’ve a fire in the
winter: you never _can_ tell, you know, unless our fire smokes, and
then smoke comes up in that room too—but that may be only pretence,
just to make it look as if they had a fire. Well then, the books are
something like our books, only the words go the wrong way; I know that,
because I’ve held up one of our books to the glass, and then they hold
up one in the other room.
“How would you like to live in Looking-glass House, Kitty? I wonder if
they’d give you milk in there? Perhaps Looking-glass milk isn’t good to
drink—But oh, Kitty! now we come to the passage. You can just see a
little _peep_ of the passage in Looking-glass House, if you leave the
door of our drawing-room wide open: and it’s very like our passage as
far as you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond.
Oh, Kitty! how nice it would be if we could only get through into
Looking-glass House! I’m sure it’s got, oh! such beautiful things in
it! Let’s pretend there’s a way of getting through into it, somehow,
Kitty. Let’s pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we
can get through. Why, it’s turning into a sort of mist now, I declare!
It’ll be easy enough to get through—” She was up on the chimney-piece
while she said this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And
certainly the glass _was_ beginning to melt away, just like a bright
silvery mist.
In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly
down into the Looking-glass room. The very first thing she did was to
look whether there was a fire in the fireplace, and she was quite
pleased to find that there was a real one, blazing away as brightly as
the one she had left behind. “So I shall be as warm here as I was in
the old room,” thought Alice: “warmer, in fact, because there’ll be no
one here to scold me away from the fire. Oh, what fun it’ll be, when
they see me through the glass in here, and can’t get at me!”
Then she began looking about, and noticed that what could be seen from
the old room was quite common and uninteresting, but that all the rest
was as different as possible. For instance, the pictures on the wall
next the fire seemed to be all alive, and the very clock on the
chimney-piece (you know you can only see the back of it in the
Looking-glass) had got the face of a little old man, and grinned at
her.
“They don’t keep this room so tidy as the other,” Alice thought to
herself, as she noticed several of the chessmen down in the hearth
among the cinders: but in another moment, with a little “Oh!” of
surprise, she was down on her hands and knees watching them. The
chessmen were walking about, two and two!
“Here are the Red King and the Red Queen,” Alice said (in a whisper,
for fear of frightening them), “and there are the White King and the
White Queen sitting on the edge of the shovel—and here are two castles
walking arm in arm—I don’t think they can hear me,” she went on, as she
put her head closer down, “and I’m nearly sure they can’t see me. I
feel somehow as if I were invisible—”
Here something began squeaking on the table behind Alice, and made her
turn her head just in time to see one of the White Pawns roll over and
begin kicking: she watched it with great curiosity to see what would
happen next.
“It is the voice of my child!” the White Queen cried out as she rushed
past the King, so violently that she knocked him over among the
cinders. “My precious Lily! My imperial kitten!” and she began
scrambling wildly up the side of the fender.
“Imperial fiddlestick!” said the King, rubbing his nose, which had been
hurt by the fall. He had a right to be a _little_ annoyed with the
Queen, for he was covered with ashes from head to foot.
Alice was very anxious to be of use, and, as the poor little Lily was
nearly screaming herself into a fit, she hastily picked up the Queen
and set her on the table by the side of her noisy little daughter.
The Queen gasped, and sat down: the rapid journey through the air had
quite taken away her breath and for a minute or two she could do
nothing but hug the little Lily in silence. As soon as she had
recovered her breath a little, she called out to the White King, who
was sitting sulkily among the ashes, “Mind the volcano!”
“What volcano?” said the King, looking up anxiously into the fire, as
if he thought that was the most likely place to find one.
“Blew—me—up,” panted the Queen, who was still a little out of breath.
“Mind you come up—the regular way—don’t get blown up!”
Alice watched the White King as he slowly struggled up from bar to bar,
till at last she said, “Why, you’ll be hours and hours getting to the
table, at that rate. I’d far better help you, hadn’t I?” But the King
took no notice of the question: it was quite clear that he could
neither hear her nor see her.
So Alice picked him up very gently, and lifted him across more slowly
than she had lifted the Queen, that she mightn’t take his breath away:
but, before she put him on the table, she thought she might as well
dust him a little, he was so covered with ashes.
She said afterwards that she had never seen in all her life such a face
as the King made, when he found himself held in the air by an invisible
hand, and being dusted: he was far too much astonished to cry out, but
his eyes and his mouth went on getting larger and larger, and rounder
and rounder, till her hand shook so with laughing that she nearly let
him drop upon the floor.
“Oh! _please_ don’t make such faces, my dear!” she cried out, quite
forgetting that the King couldn’t hear her. “You make me laugh so that
I can hardly hold you! And don’t keep your mouth so wide open! All the
ashes will get into it—there, now I think you’re tidy enough!” she
added, as she smoothed his hair, and set him upon the table near the
Queen.
The King immediately fell flat on his back, and lay perfectly still:
and Alice was a little alarmed at what she had done, and went round the
room to see if she could find any water to throw over him. However, she
could find nothing but a bottle of ink, and when she got back with it
she found he had recovered, and he and the Queen were talking together
in a frightened whisper—so low, that Alice could hardly hear what they
said.
The King was saying, “I assure you, my dear, I turned cold to the very
ends of my whiskers!”
To which the Queen replied, “You haven’t got any whiskers.”
“The horror of that moment,” the King went on, “I shall never, _never_
forget!”
“You will, though,” the Queen said, “if you don’t make a memorandum of
it.”
Alice looked on with great interest as the King took an enormous
memorandum-book out of his pocket, and began writing. A sudden thought
struck her, and she took hold of the end of the pencil, which came some
way over his shoulder, and began writing for him.
The poor King looked puzzled and unhappy, and struggled with the pencil
for some time without saying anything; but Alice was too strong for
him, and at last he panted out, “My dear! I really _must_ get a thinner
pencil. I can’t manage this one a bit; it writes all manner of things
that I don’t intend—”
“What manner of things?” said the Queen, looking over the book (in
which Alice had put “_The White Knight is sliding down the poker. He
balances very badly_”) “That’s not a memorandum of _your_ feelings!”
There was a book lying near Alice on the table, and while she sat
watching the White King (for she was still a little anxious about him,
and had the ink all ready to throw over him, in case he fainted again),
she turned over the leaves, to find some part that she could read,
“—for it’s all in some language I don’t know,” she said to herself.
It was like this.
.YKCOWREBBAJ
sevot yhtils eht dna, gillirb sawT’
ebaw eht ni elbmig dna eryg diD
,sevogorob eht erew ysmim llA
.ebargtuo shtar emom eht dnA
She puzzled over this for some time, but at last a bright thought
struck her. “Why, it’s a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold
it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again.”
This was the poem that Alice read.
JABBERWOCKY.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“It seems very pretty,” she said when she had finished it, “but it’s
_rather_ hard to understand!” (You see she didn’t like to confess, even
to herself, that she couldn’t make it out at all.) “Somehow it seems to
fill my head with ideas—only I don’t exactly know what they are!
However, _somebody_ killed _something_: that’s clear, at any rate—”
“But oh!” thought Alice, suddenly jumping up, “if I don’t make haste I
shall have to go back through the Looking-glass, before I’ve seen what
the rest of the house is like! Let’s have a look at the garden first!”
She was out of the room in a moment, and ran down stairs—or, at least,
it wasn’t exactly running, but a new invention of hers for getting down
stairs quickly and easily, as Alice said to herself. She just kept the
tips of her fingers on the hand-rail, and floated gently down without
even touching the stairs with her feet; then she floated on through the
hall, and would have gone straight out at the door in the same way, if
she hadn’t caught hold of the door-post. She was getting a little giddy
with so much floating in the air, and was rather glad to find herself
walking again in the natural way.
CHAPTER II.
The Garden of Live Flowers
“I should see the garden far better,” said Alice to herself, “if I
could get to the top of that hill: and here’s a path that leads
straight to it—at least, no, it doesn’t do that—” (after going a few
yards along the path, and turning several sharp corners), “but I
suppose it will at last. But how curiously it twists! It’s more like a
corkscrew than a path! Well, _this_ turn goes to the hill, I
suppose—no, it doesn’t! This goes straight back to the house! Well
then, I’ll try it the other way.”
And so she did: wandering up and down, and trying turn after turn, but
always coming back to the house, do what she would. Indeed, once, when
she turned a corner rather more quickly than usual, she ran against it
before she could stop herself.
“It’s no use talking about it,” Alice said, looking up at the house and
pretending it was arguing with her. “I’m _not_ going in again yet. I
know I should have to get through the Looking-glass again—back into the
old room—and there’d be an end of all my adventures!”
So, resolutely turning her back upon the house, she set out once more
down the path, determined to keep straight on till she got to the hill.
For a few minutes all went on well, and she was just saying, “I really
_shall_ do it this time—” when the path gave a sudden twist and shook
itself (as she described it afterwards), and the next moment she found
herself actually walking in at the door.
“Oh, it’s too bad!” she cried. “I never saw such a house for getting in
the way! Never!”
However, there was the hill full in sight, so there was nothing to be
done but start again. This time she came upon a large flower-bed, with
a border of daisies, and a willow-tree growing in the middle.
“O Tiger-lily,” said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving
gracefully about in the wind, “I _wish_ you could talk!”
“We _can_ talk,” said the Tiger-lily: “when there’s anybody worth
talking to.”
Alice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite
seemed to take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went
on waving about, she spoke again, in a timid voice—almost in a whisper.
“And can _all_ the flowers talk?”
“As well as _you_ can,” said the Tiger-lily. “And a great deal louder.”
“It isn’t manners for us to begin, you know,” said the Rose, “and I
really was wondering when you’d speak! Said I to myself, ‘Her face has
got _some_ sense in it, though it’s not a clever one!’ Still, you’re
the right colour, and that goes a long way.”
“I don’t care about the colour,” the Tiger-lily remarked. “If only her
petals curled up a little more, she’d be all right.”
Alice didn’t like being criticised, so she began asking questions.
“Aren’t you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody
to take care of you?”
“There’s the tree in the middle,” said the Rose: “what else is it good
for?”
“But what could it do, if any danger came?” Alice asked.
“It says ‘Bough-wough!’” cried a Daisy: “that’s why its branches are
called boughs!”
“Didn’t you know _that_?” cried another Daisy, and here they all began
shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill
voices. “Silence, every one of you!” cried the Tiger-lily, waving
itself passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement.
“They know I can’t get at them!” it panted, bending its quivering head
towards Alice, “or they wouldn’t dare to do it!”
“Never mind!” Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the
daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, “If you don’t
hold your tongues, I’ll pick you!”
There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned
white.
“That’s right!” said the Tiger-lily. “The daisies are worst of all.
When one speaks, they all begin together, and it’s enough to make one
wither to hear the way they go on!”
“How is it you can all talk so nicely?” Alice said, hoping to get it
into a better temper by a compliment. “I’ve been in many gardens
before, but none of the flowers could talk.”
“Put your hand down, and feel the ground,” said the Tiger-lily. “Then
you’ll know why.”
Alice did so. “It’s very hard,” she said, “but I don’t see what that
has to do with it.”
“In most gardens,” the Tiger-lily said, “they make the beds too soft—so
that the flowers are always asleep.”
This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know
it. “I never thought of that before!” she said.
“It’s _my_ opinion that you never think _at all_,” the Rose said in a
rather severe tone.
“I never saw anybody that looked stupider,” a Violet said, so suddenly,
that Alice quite jumped; for it hadn’t spoken before.
“Hold _your_ tongue!” cried the Tiger-lily. “As if _you_ ever saw
anybody! You keep your head under the leaves, and snore away there,
till you know no more what’s going on in the world, than if you were a
bud!”
“Are there any more people in the garden besides me?” Alice said, not
choosing to notice the Rose’s last remark.
“There’s one other flower in the garden that can move about like you,”
said the Rose. “I wonder how you do it—” (“You’re always wondering,”
said the Tiger-lily), “but she’s more bushy than you are.”
“Is she like me?” Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her
mind, “There’s another little girl in the garden, somewhere!”
“Well, she has the same awkward shape as you,” the Rose said, “but
she’s redder—and her petals are shorter, I think.”
“Her petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia,” the Tiger-lily
interrupted: “not tumbled about anyhow, like yours.”
“But that’s not _your_ fault,” the Rose added kindly: “you’re beginning
to fade, you know—and then one can’t help one’s petals getting a little
untidy.”
Alice didn’t like this idea at all: so, to change the subject, she
asked “Does she ever come out here?”
“I daresay you’ll see her soon,” said the Rose. “She’s one of the
thorny kind.”
“Where does she wear the thorns?” Alice asked with some curiosity.
“Why all round her head, of course,” the Rose replied. “I was wondering
_you_ hadn’t got some too. I thought it was the regular rule.”
“She’s coming!” cried the Larkspur. “I hear her footstep, thump, thump,
thump, along the gravel-walk!”
Alice looked round eagerly, and found that it was the Red Queen. “She’s
grown a good deal!” was her first remark. She had indeed: when Alice
first found her in the ashes, she had been only three inches high—and
here she was, half a head taller than Alice herself!
“It’s the fresh air that does it,” said the Rose: “wonderfully fine air
it is, out here.”
“I think I’ll go and meet her,” said Alice, for, though the flowers
were interesting enough, she felt that it would be far grander to have
a talk with a real Queen.
“You can’t possibly do that,” said the Rose: “_I_ should advise you to
walk the other way.”
This sounded nonsense to Alice, so she said nothing, but set off at
once towards the Red Queen. To her surprise, she lost sight of her in a
moment, and found herself walking in at the front-door again.
A little provoked, she drew back, and after looking everywhere for the
queen (whom she spied out at last, a long way off), she thought she
would try the plan, this time, of walking in the opposite direction.
It succeeded beautifully. She had not been walking a minute before she
found herself face to face with the Red Queen, and full in sight of the
hill she had been so long aiming at.
“Where do you come from?” said the Red Queen. “And where are you going?
Look up, speak nicely, and don’t twiddle your fingers all the time.”
Alice attended to all these directions, and explained, as well as she
could, that she had lost her way.
“I don’t know what you mean by _your_ way,” said the Queen: “all the
ways about here belong to _me_—but why did you come out here at all?”
she added in a kinder tone. “Curtsey while you’re thinking what to say,
it saves time.”
Alice wondered a little at this, but she was too much in awe of the
Queen to disbelieve it. “I’ll try it when I go home,” she thought to
herself, “the next time I’m a little late for dinner.”
“It’s time for you to answer now,” the Queen said, looking at her
watch: “open your mouth a _little_ wider when you speak, and always say
‘your Majesty.’”
“I only wanted to see what the garden was like, your Majesty—”
“That’s right,” said the Queen, patting her on the head, which Alice
didn’t like at all, “though, when you say ‘garden,’—_I’ve_ seen
gardens, compared with which this would be a wilderness.”
Alice didn’t dare to argue the point, but went on: “—and I thought I’d
try and find my way to the top of that hill—”
“When you say ‘hill,’” the Queen interrupted, “_I_ could show you
hills, in comparison with which you’d call that a valley.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” said Alice, surprised into contradicting her at
last: “a hill _can’t_ be a valley, you know. That would be nonsense—”
The Red Queen shook her head, “You may call it ‘nonsense’ if you like,”
she said, “but _I’ve_ heard nonsense, compared with which that would be
as sensible as a dictionary!”
Alice curtseyed again, as she was afraid from the Queen’s tone that she
was a _little_ offended: and they walked on in silence till they got to
the top of the little hill.
For some minutes Alice stood without speaking, looking out in all
directions over the country—and a most curious country it was. There
were a number of tiny little brooks running straight across it from
side to side, and the ground between was divided up into squares by a
number of little green hedges, that reached from brook to brook.
“I declare it’s marked out just like a large chessboard!” Alice said at
last. “There ought to be some men moving about somewhere—and so there
are!” She added in a tone of delight, and her heart began to beat quick
with excitement as she went on. “It’s a great huge game of chess that’s
being played—all over the world—if this _is_ the world at all, you
know. Oh, what fun it is! How I _wish_ I was one of them! I wouldn’t
mind being a Pawn, if only I might join—though of course I should
_like_ to be a Queen, best.”
She glanced rather shyly at the real Queen as she said this, but her
companion only smiled pleasantly, and said, “That’s easily managed. You
can be the White Queen’s Pawn, if you like, as Lily’s too young to
play; and you’re in the Second Square to begin with: when you get to
the Eighth Square you’ll be a Queen—” Just at this moment, somehow or
other, they began to run.
Alice never could quite make out, in thinking it over afterwards, how
it was that they began: all she remembers is, that they were running
hand in hand, and the Queen went so fast that it was all she could do
to keep up with her: and still the Queen kept crying “Faster! Faster!”
but Alice felt she _could not_ go faster, though she had not breath
left to say so.
The most curious part of the thing was, that the trees and the other
things round them never changed their places at all: however fast they
went, they never seemed to pass anything. “I wonder if all the things
move along with us?” thought poor puzzled Alice. And the Queen seemed
to guess her thoughts, for she cried, “Faster! Don’t try to talk!”
Not that Alice had any idea of doing _that_. She felt as if she would
never be able to talk again, she was getting so much out of breath: and
still the Queen cried “Faster! Faster!” and dragged her along. “Are we
nearly there?” Alice managed to pant out at last.
“Nearly there!” the Queen repeated. “Why, we passed it ten minutes ago!
Faster!” And they ran on for a time in silence, with the wind whistling
in Alice’s ears, and almost blowing her hair off her head, she fancied.
“Now! Now!” cried the Queen. “Faster! Faster!” And they went so fast
that at last they seemed to skim through the air, hardly touching the
ground with their feet, till suddenly, just as Alice was getting quite
exhausted, they stopped, and she found herself sitting on the ground,
breathless and giddy.
The Queen propped her up against a tree, and said kindly, “You may rest
a little now.”
Alice looked round her in great surprise. “Why, I do believe we’ve been
under this tree the whole time! Everything’s just as it was!”
“Of course it is,” said the Queen, “what would you have it?”
“Well, in _our_ country,” said Alice, still panting a little, “you’d
generally get to somewhere else—if you ran very fast for a long time,
as we’ve been doing.”
“A slow sort of country!” said the Queen. “Now, _here_, you see, it
takes all the running _you_ can do, to keep in the same place. If you
want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as
that!”
“I’d rather not try, please!” said Alice. “I’m quite content to stay
here—only I _am_ so hot and thirsty!”
“I know what _you’d_ like!” the Queen said good-naturedly, taking a
little box out of her pocket. “Have a biscuit?”
Alice thought it would not be civil to say “No,” though it wasn’t at
all what she wanted. So she took it, and ate it as well as she could:
and it was _very_ dry; and she thought she had never been so nearly
choked in all her life.
“While you’re refreshing yourself,” said the Queen, “I’ll just take the
measurements.” And she took a ribbon out of her pocket, marked in
inches, and began measuring the ground, and sticking little pegs in
here and there.
“At the end of two yards,” she said, putting in a peg to mark the
distance, “I shall give you your directions—have another biscuit?”
“No, thank you,” said Alice: “one’s _quite_ enough!”
“Thirst quenched, I hope?” said the Queen.
Alice did not know what to say to this, but luckily the Queen did not
wait for an answer, but went on. “At the end of _three_ yards I shall
repeat them—for fear of your forgetting them. At the end of _four_, I
shall say good-bye. And at the end of _five_, I shall go!”
She had got all the pegs put in by this time, and Alice looked on with
great interest as she returned to the tree, and then began slowly
walking down the row.
At the two-yard peg she faced round, and said, “A pawn goes two squares
in its first move, you know. So you’ll go _very_ quickly through the
Third Square—by railway, I should think—and you’ll find yourself in the
Fourth Square in no time. Well, _that_ square belongs to Tweedledum and
Tweedledee—the Fifth is mostly water—the Sixth belongs to Humpty
Dumpty—But you make no remark?”
“I—I didn’t know I had to make one—just then,” Alice faltered out.
“You _should_ have said, ‘It’s extremely kind of you to tell me all
this’—however, we’ll suppose it said—the Seventh Square is all
forest—however, one of the Knights will show you the way—and in the
Eighth Square we shall be Queens together, and it’s all feasting and
fun!” Alice got up and curtseyed, and sat down again.
At the next peg the Queen turned again, and this time she said, “Speak
in French when you can’t think of the English for a thing—turn out your
toes as you walk—and remember who you are!” She did not wait for Alice
to curtsey this time, but walked on quickly to the next peg, where she
turned for a moment to say “good-bye,” and then hurried on to the last.
How it happened, Alice never knew, but exactly as she came to the last
peg, she was gone. Whether she vanished into the air, or whether she
ran quickly into the wood (“and she _can_ run very fast!” thought
Alice), there was no way of guessing, but she was gone, and Alice began
to remember that she was a Pawn, and that it would soon be time for her
to move.
CHAPTER III.
Looking-Glass Insects
Of course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of the
country she was going to travel through. “It’s something very like
learning geography,” thought Alice, as she stood on tiptoe in hopes of
being able to see a little further. “Principal rivers—there _are_ none.
Principal mountains—I’m on the only one, but I don’t think it’s got any
name. Principal towns—why, what _are_ those creatures, making honey
down there? They can’t be bees—nobody ever saw bees a mile off, you
know—” and for some time she stood silent, watching one of them that
was bustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them,
“just as if it was a regular bee,” thought Alice.
However, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an
elephant—as Alice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breath
away at first. “And what enormous flowers they must be!” was her next
idea. “Something like cottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks put
to them—and what quantities of honey they must make! I think I’ll go
down and—no, I won’t _just_ yet,” she went on, checking herself just as
she was beginning to run down the hill, and trying to find some excuse
for turning shy so suddenly. “It’ll never do to go down among them
without a good long branch to brush them away—and what fun it’ll be
when they ask me how I like my walk. I shall say—‘Oh, I like it well
enough—’” (here came the favourite little toss of the head), “‘only it
was so dusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!’”
“I think I’ll go down the other way,” she said after a pause: “and
perhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to
get into the Third Square!”
So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of
the six little brooks.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
“Tickets, please!” said the Guard, putting his head in at the window.
In a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the
same size as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.
“Now then! Show your ticket, child!” the Guard went on, looking angrily
at Alice. And a great many voices all said together (“like the chorus
of a song,” thought Alice), “Don’t keep him waiting, child! Why, his
time is worth a thousand pounds a minute!”
“I’m afraid I haven’t got one,” Alice said in a frightened tone: “there
wasn’t a ticket-office where I came from.” And again the chorus of
voices went on. “There wasn’t room for one where she came from. The
land there is worth a thousand pounds an inch!”
“Don’t make excuses,” said the Guard: “you should have bought one from
the engine-driver.” And once more the chorus of voices went on with
“The man that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a
thousand pounds a puff!”
Alice thought to herself, “Then there’s no use in speaking.” The voices
didn’t join in this time, as she hadn’t spoken, but to her great
surprise, they all _thought_ in chorus (I hope you understand what
_thinking in chorus_ means—for I must confess that _I_ don’t), “Better
say nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!”
“I shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!”
thought Alice.
All this time the Guard was looking at her, first through a telescope,
then through a microscope, and then through an opera-glass. At last he
said, “You’re travelling the wrong way,” and shut up the window and
went away.
“So young a child,” said the gentleman sitting opposite to her (he was
dressed in white paper), “ought to know which way she’s going, even if
she doesn’t know her own name!”
A Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his eyes
and said in a loud voice, “She ought to know her way to the
ticket-office, even if she doesn’t know her alphabet!”
There was a Beetle sitting next to the Goat (it was a very queer
carriage-full of passengers altogether), and, as the rule seemed to be
that they should all speak in turn, _he_ went on with “She’ll have to
go back from here as luggage!”
Alice couldn’t see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarse
voice spoke next. “Change engines—” it said, and was obliged to leave
off.
“It sounds like a horse,” Alice thought to herself. And an extremely
small voice, close to her ear, said, “You might make a joke on
that—something about ‘horse’ and ‘hoarse,’ you know.”
Then a very gentle voice in the distance said, “She must be labelled
‘Lass, with care,’ you know—”
And after that other voices went on (“What a number of people there are
in the carriage!” thought Alice), saying, “She must go by post, as
she’s got a head on her—” “She must be sent as a message by the
telegraph—” “She must draw the train herself the rest of the way—” and
so on.
But the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whispered
in her ear, “Never mind what they all say, my dear, but take a
return-ticket every time the train stops.”
“Indeed I shan’t!” Alice said rather impatiently. “I don’t belong to
this railway journey at all—I was in a wood just now—and I wish I could
get back there.”
“You might make a joke on _that_,” said the little voice close to her
ear: “something about ‘you _would_ if you could,’ you know.”
“Don’t tease so,” said Alice, looking about in vain to see where the
voice came from; “if you’re so anxious to have a joke made, why don’t
you make one yourself?”
The little voice sighed deeply: it was _very_ unhappy, evidently, and
Alice would have said something pitying to comfort it, “If it would
only sigh like other people!” she thought. But this was such a
wonderfully small sigh, that she wouldn’t have heard it at all, if it
hadn’t come _quite_ close to her ear. The consequence of this was that
it tickled her ear very much, and quite took off her thoughts from the
unhappiness of the poor little creature.
“I know you are a friend,” the little voice went on; “a dear friend,
and an old friend. And you won’t hurt me, though I _am_ an insect.”
“What kind of insect?” Alice inquired a little anxiously. What she
really wanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but she
thought this wouldn’t be quite a civil question to ask.
“What, then you don’t—” the little voice began, when it was drowned by
a shrill scream from the engine, and everybody jumped up in alarm,
Alice among the rest.
The Horse, who had put his head out of the window, quietly drew it in
and said, “It’s only a brook we have to jump over.” Everybody seemed
satisfied with this, though Alice felt a little nervous at the idea of
trains jumping at all. “However, it’ll take us into the Fourth Square,
that’s some comfort!” she said to herself. In another moment she felt
the carriage rise straight up into the air, and in her fright she
caught at the thing nearest to her hand, which happened to be the
Goat’s beard.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
But the beard seemed to melt away as she touched it, and she found
herself sitting quietly under a tree—while the Gnat (for that was the
insect she had been talking to) was balancing itself on a twig just
over her head, and fanning her with its wings.
It certainly was a _very_ large Gnat: “about the size of a chicken,”
Alice thought. Still, she couldn’t feel nervous with it, after they had
been talking together so long.
“—then you don’t like all insects?” the Gnat went on, as quietly as if
nothing had happened.
“I like them when they can talk,” Alice said. “None of them ever talk,
where _I_ come from.”
“What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where _you_ come from?” the
Gnat inquired.
“I don’t _rejoice_ in insects at all,” Alice explained, “because I’m
rather afraid of them—at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the
names of some of them.”
“Of course they answer to their names?” the Gnat remarked carelessly.
“I never knew them to do it.”
“What’s the use of their having names,” the Gnat said, “if they won’t
answer to them?”
“No use to _them_,” said Alice; “but it’s useful to the people who name
them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?”
“I can’t say,” the Gnat replied. “Further on, in the wood down there,
they’ve got no names—however, go on with your list of insects: you’re
wasting time.”
“Well, there’s the Horse-fly,” Alice began, counting off the names on
her fingers.
“All right,” said the Gnat: “half way up that bush, you’ll see a
Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. It’s made entirely of wood, and gets
about by swinging itself from branch to branch.”
“What does it live on?” Alice asked, with great curiosity.
“Sap and sawdust,” said the Gnat. “Go on with the list.”
Alice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made
up her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright
and sticky; and then she went on.
“And there’s the Dragon-fly.”
“Look on the branch above your head,” said the Gnat, “and there you’ll
find a snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of
holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.”
“And what does it live on?”
“Frumenty and mince pie,” the Gnat replied; “and it makes its nest in a
Christmas box.”
“And then there’s the Butterfly,” Alice went on, after she had taken a
good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to
herself, “I wonder if that’s the reason insects are so fond of flying
into candles—because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!”
“Crawling at your feet,” said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in
some alarm), “you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin
slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump
of sugar.”
“And what does _it_ live on?”
“Weak tea with cream in it.”
A new difficulty came into Alice’s head. “Supposing it couldn’t find
any?” she suggested.
“Then it would die, of course.”
“But that must happen very often,” Alice remarked thoughtfully.
“It always happens,” said the Gnat.
After this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnat
amused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at last it
settled again and remarked, “I suppose you don’t want to lose your
name?”
“No, indeed,” Alice said, a little anxiously.
“And yet I don’t know,” the Gnat went on in a careless tone: “only
think how convenient it would be if you could manage to go home without
it! For instance, if the governess wanted to call you to your lessons,
she would call out ‘come here—,’ and there she would have to leave off,
because there wouldn’t be any name for her to call, and of course you
wouldn’t have to go, you know.”
“That would never do, I’m sure,” said Alice: “the governess would never
think of excusing me lessons for that. If she couldn’t remember my
name, she’d call me ‘Miss!’ as the servants do.”
“Well, if she said ‘Miss,’ and didn’t say anything more,” the Gnat
remarked, “of course you’d miss your lessons. That’s a joke. I wish
_you_ had made it.”
“Why do you wish _I_ had made it?” Alice asked. “It’s a very bad one.”
But the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling
down its cheeks.
“You shouldn’t make jokes,” Alice said, “if it makes you so unhappy.”
Then came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time the
poor Gnat really seemed to have sighed itself away, for, when Alice
looked up, there was nothing whatever to be seen on the twig, and, as
she was getting quite chilly with sitting still so long, she got up and
walked on.
She very soon came to an open field, with a wood on the other side of
it: it looked much darker than the last wood, and Alice felt a _little_
timid about going into it. However, on second thoughts, she made up her
mind to go on: “for I certainly won’t go _back_,” she thought to
herself, and this was the only way to the Eighth Square.
“This must be the wood,” she said thoughtfully to herself, “where
things have no names. I wonder what’ll become of _my_ name when I go
in? I shouldn’t like to lose it at all—because they’d have to give me
another, and it would be almost certain to be an ugly one. But then the
fun would be trying to find the creature that had got my old name!
That’s just like the advertisements, you know, when people lose
dogs—‘_answers to the name of “Dash:” had on a brass collar_’—just
fancy calling everything you met ‘Alice,’ till one of them answered!
Only they wouldn’t answer at all, if they were wise.”
She was rambling on in this way when she reached the wood: it looked
very cool and shady. “Well, at any rate it’s a great comfort,” she said
as she stepped under the trees, “after being so hot, to get into
the—into _what_?” she went on, rather surprised at not being able to
think of the word. “I mean to get under the—under the—under _this_, you
know!” putting her hand on the trunk of the tree. “What _does_ it call
itself, I wonder? I do believe it’s got no name—why, to be sure it
hasn’t!”
She stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began again.
“Then it really _has_ happened, after all! And now, who am I? I _will_
remember, if I can! I’m determined to do it!” But being determined
didn’t help much, and all she could say, after a great deal of
puzzling, was, “L, I _know_ it begins with L!”
Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large
gentle eyes, but didn’t seem at all frightened. “Here then! Here then!”
Alice said, as she held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it
only started back a little, and then stood looking at her again.
“What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet
voice it had!
“I wish I knew!” thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly,
“Nothing, just now.”
“Think again,” it said: “that won’t do.”
Alice thought, but nothing came of it. “Please, would you tell me what
_you_ call yourself?” she said timidly. “I think that might help a
little.”
“I’ll tell you, if you’ll move a little further on,” the Fawn said. “I
can’t remember here.”
So they walked on together though the wood, Alice with her arms clasped
lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into
another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air,
and shook itself free from Alice’s arms. “I’m a Fawn!” it cried out in
a voice of delight, “and, dear me! you’re a human child!” A sudden look
of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it
had darted away at full speed.
Alice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at
having lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. “However, I
know my name now.” she said, “that’s _some_ comfort. Alice—Alice—I
won’t forget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to
follow, I wonder?”
It was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one
road through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it.
“I’ll settle it,” Alice said to herself, “when the road divides and
they point different ways.”
But this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way,
but wherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-posts
pointing the same way, one marked “TO TWEEDLEDUM’S HOUSE” and the other
“TO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.”
“I do believe,” said Alice at last, “that they live in the same house!
I wonder I never thought of that before—But I can’t stay there long.
I’ll just call and say ‘how d’you do?’ and ask them the way out of the
wood. If I could only get to the Eighth Square before it gets dark!” So
she wandered on, talking to herself as she went, till, on turning a
sharp corner, she came upon two fat little men, so suddenly that she
could not help starting back, but in another moment she recovered
herself, feeling sure that they must be
CHAPTER IV.
Tweedledum And Tweedledee
They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other’s
neck, and Alice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them
had “DUM” embroidered on his collar, and the other “DEE.” “I suppose
they’ve each got ‘TWEEDLE’ round at the back of the collar,” she said
to herself.
They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was
just looking round to see if the word ‘TWEEDLE’ was written at the back
of each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one
marked “DUM.”
“If you think we’re wax-works,” he said, “you ought to pay, you know.
Wax-works weren’t made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!”
“Contrariwise,” added the one marked “DEE,” “if you think we’re alive,
you ought to speak.”
“I’m sure I’m very sorry,” was all Alice could say; for the words of
the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock,
and she could hardly help saying them out loud:—
“Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.”
“I know what you’re thinking about,” said Tweedledum: “but it isn’t so,
nohow.”
“Contrariwise,” continued Tweedledee, “if it was so, it might be; and
if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.”
“I was thinking,” Alice said very politely, “which is the best way out
of this wood: it’s getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?”
But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.
They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice
couldn’t help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying “First
Boy!”
“Nohow!” Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again with
a snap.
“Next Boy!” said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite
certain he would only shout out “Contrariwise!” and so he did.
“You’ve been wrong!” cried Tweedledum. “The first thing in a visit is
to say ‘How d’ye do?’ and shake hands!” And here the two brothers gave
each other a hug, and then they held out the two hands that were free,
to shake hands with her.
Alice did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear of
hurting the other one’s feelings; so, as the best way out of the
difficulty, she took hold of both hands at once: the next moment they
were dancing round in a ring. This seemed quite natural (she remembered
afterwards), and she was not even surprised to hear music playing: it
seemed to come from the tree under which they were dancing, and it was
done (as well as she could make it out) by the branches rubbing one
across the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.
“But it certainly _was_ funny,” (Alice said afterwards, when she was
telling her sister the history of all this,) “to find myself singing
‘_Here we go round the mulberry bush_.’ I don’t know when I began it,
but somehow I felt as if I’d been singing it a long long time!”
The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. “Four
times round is enough for one dance,” Tweedledum panted out, and they
left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at
the same moment.
Then they let go of Alice’s hands, and stood looking at her for a
minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn’t know how to
begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. “It
would never do to say ‘How d’ye do?’ _now_,” she said to herself: “we
seem to have got beyond that, somehow!”
“I hope you’re not much tired?” she said at last.
“Nohow. And thank you _very_ much for asking,” said Tweedledum.
“So _much_ obliged!” added Tweedledee. “You like poetry?”
“Ye-es, pretty well—_some_ poetry,” Alice said doubtfully. “Would you
tell me which road leads out of the wood?”
“What shall I repeat to her?” said Tweedledee, looking round at
Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice’s question.
“‘_The Walrus and the Carpenter_’ is the longest,” Tweedledum replied,
giving his brother an affectionate hug.
Tweedledee began instantly:
“The sun was shining—”
Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. “If it’s _very_ long,” she said,
as politely as she could, “would you please tell me first which road—”
Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:
“The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done—
‘It’s very rude of him,’ she said,
‘To come and spoil the fun!’
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying over head—
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
‘If this were only cleared away,’
They said, ‘it _would_ be grand!’
‘If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
‘That they could get it clear?’
‘I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
‘O Oysters, come and walk with us!’
The Walrus did beseech.
‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.’
The eldest Oyster looked at him.
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head—
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat—
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more—
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.’
‘But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,
‘Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!’
‘No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
‘A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,
‘Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed—
Now if you’re ready Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.’
‘But not on us!’ the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue,
‘After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!’
‘The night is fine,’ the Walrus said
‘Do you admire the view?
‘It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
‘Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf—
I’ve had to ask you twice!’
‘It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,
‘To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
‘The butter’s spread too thick!’
‘I weep for you,’ the Walrus said.
‘I deeply sympathize.’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size.
Holding his pocket handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
‘O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter.
‘You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none—
And that was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.”
“I like the Walrus best,” said Alice: “because you see he was a
_little_ sorry for the poor oysters.”
“He ate more than the Carpenter, though,” said Tweedledee. “You see he
held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn’t count
how many he took: contrariwise.”
“That was mean!” Alice said indignantly. “Then I like the Carpenter
best—if he didn’t eat so many as the Walrus.”
“But he ate as many as he could get,” said Tweedledum.
This was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, “Well! They were _both_
very unpleasant characters—” Here she checked herself in some alarm, at
hearing something that sounded to her like the puffing of a large
steam-engine in the wood near them, though she feared it was more
likely to be a wild beast. “Are there any lions or tigers about here?”
she asked timidly.
“It’s only the Red King snoring,” said Tweedledee.
“Come and look at him!” the brothers cried, and they each took one of
Alice’s hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.
“Isn’t he a _lovely_ sight?” said Tweedledum.
Alice couldn’t say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap
on, with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy
heap, and snoring loud—“fit to snore his head off!” as Tweedledum
remarked.
“I’m afraid he’ll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,” said Alice,
who was a very thoughtful little girl.
“He’s dreaming now,” said Tweedledee: “and what do you think he’s
dreaming about?”
Alice said “Nobody can guess that.”
“Why, about _you_!” Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands
triumphantly. “And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you
suppose you’d be?”
“Where I am now, of course,” said Alice.
“Not you!” Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. “You’d be nowhere. Why,
you’re only a sort of thing in his dream!”
“If that there King was to wake,” added Tweedledum, “you’d go
out—bang!—just like a candle!”
“I shouldn’t!” Alice exclaimed indignantly. “Besides, if _I’m_ only a
sort of thing in his dream, what are _you_, I should like to know?”
“Ditto” said Tweedledum.
“Ditto, ditto” cried Tweedledee.
He shouted this so loud that Alice couldn’t help saying, “Hush! You’ll
be waking him, I’m afraid, if you make so much noise.”
“Well, it no use _your_ talking about waking him,” said Tweedledum,
“when you’re only one of the things in his dream. You know very well
you’re not real.”
“I _am_ real!” said Alice and began to cry.
“You won’t make yourself a bit realler by crying,” Tweedledee remarked:
“there’s nothing to cry about.”
“If I wasn’t real,” Alice said—half-laughing through her tears, it all
seemed so ridiculous—“I shouldn’t be able to cry.”
“I hope you don’t suppose those are real tears?” Tweedledum interrupted
in a tone of great contempt.
“I know they’re talking nonsense,” Alice thought to herself: “and it’s
foolish to cry about it.” So she brushed away her tears, and went on as
cheerfully as she could. “At any rate I’d better be getting out of the
wood, for really it’s coming on very dark. Do you think it’s going to
rain?”
Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and
looked up into it. “No, I don’t think it is,” he said: “at least—not
under _here_. Nohow.”
“But it may rain _outside_?”
“It may—if it chooses,” said Tweedledee: “we’ve no objection.
Contrariwise.”
“Selfish things!” thought Alice, and she was just going to say
“Good-night” and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the
umbrella and seized her by the wrist.
“Do you see _that_?” he said, in a voice choking with passion, and his
eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a
trembling finger at a small white thing lying under the tree.
“It’s only a rattle,” Alice said, after a careful examination of the
little white thing. “Not a rattle-_snake_, you know,” she added
hastily, thinking that he was frightened: “only an old rattle—quite old
and broken.”
“I knew it was!” cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and
tear his hair. “It’s spoilt, of course!” Here he looked at Tweedledee,
who immediately sat down on the ground, and tried to hide himself under
the umbrella.
Alice laid her hand upon his arm, and said in a soothing tone, “You
needn’t be so angry about an old rattle.”
“But it isn’t old!” Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever.
“It’s new, I tell you—I bought it yesterday—my nice new RATTLE!” and
his voice rose to a perfect scream.
All this time Tweedledee was trying his best to fold up the umbrella,
with himself in it: which was such an extraordinary thing to do, that
it quite took off Alice’s attention from the angry brother. But he
couldn’t quite succeed, and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in
the umbrella, with only his head out: and there he lay, opening and
shutting his mouth and his large eyes—“looking more like a fish than
anything else,” Alice thought.
“Of course you agree to have a battle?” Tweedledum said in a calmer
tone.
“I suppose so,” the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the
umbrella: “only _she_ must help us to dress up, you know.”
So the two brothers went off hand-in-hand into the wood, and returned
in a minute with their arms full of things—such as bolsters, blankets,
hearth-rugs, table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles. “I hope
you’re a good hand at pinning and tying strings?” Tweedledum remarked.
“Every one of these things has got to go on, somehow or other.”
Alice said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about
anything in all her life—the way those two bustled about—and the
quantity of things they put on—and the trouble they gave her in tying
strings and fastening buttons—“Really they’ll be more like bundles of
old clothes than anything else, by the time they’re ready!” she said to
herself, as she arranged a bolster round the neck of Tweedledee, “to
keep his head from being cut off,” as he said.
“You know,” he added very gravely, “it’s one of the most serious things
that can possibly happen to one in a battle—to get one’s head cut off.”
Alice laughed aloud: but she managed to turn it into a cough, for fear
of hurting his feelings.
“Do I look very pale?” said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet
tied on. (He _called_ it a helmet, though it certainly looked much more
like a saucepan.)
“Well—yes—a _little_,” Alice replied gently.
“I’m very brave generally,” he went on in a low voice: “only to-day I
happen to have a headache.”
“And _I’ve_ got a toothache!” said Tweedledee, who had overheard the
remark. “I’m far worse off than you!”
“Then you’d better not fight to-day,” said Alice, thinking it a good
opportunity to make peace.
“We _must_ have a bit of a fight, but I don’t care about going on
long,” said Tweedledum. “What’s the time now?”
Tweedledee looked at his watch, and said “Half-past four.”
“Let’s fight till six, and then have dinner,” said Tweedledum.
“Very well,” the other said, rather sadly: “and _she_ can watch us—only
you’d better not come _very_ close,” he added: “I generally hit
everything I can see—when I get really excited.”
“And _I_ hit everything within reach,” cried Tweedledum, “whether I can
see it or not!”
Alice laughed. “You must hit the _trees_ pretty often, I should think,”
she said.
Tweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile. “I don’t suppose,”
he said, “there’ll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by
the time we’ve finished!”
“And all about a rattle!” said Alice, still hoping to make them a
_little_ ashamed of fighting for such a trifle.
“I shouldn’t have minded it so much,” said Tweedledum, “if it hadn’t
been a new one.”
“I wish the monstrous crow would come!” thought Alice.
“There’s only one sword, you know,” Tweedledum said to his brother:
“but you can have the umbrella—it’s quite as sharp. Only we must begin
quick. It’s getting as dark as it can.”
“And darker,” said Tweedledee.
It was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought there must be a
thunderstorm coming on. “What a thick black cloud that is!” she said.
“And how fast it comes! Why, I do believe it’s got wings!”
“It’s the crow!” Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and
the two brothers took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.
Alice ran a little way into the wood, and stopped under a large tree.
“It can never get at me _here_,” she thought: “it’s far too large to
squeeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn’t flap its
wings so—it makes quite a hurricane in the wood—here’s somebody’s shawl
being blown away!”
CHAPTER V.
Wool and Water
She caught the shawl as she spoke, and looked about for the owner: in
another moment the White Queen came running wildly through the wood,
with both arms stretched out wide, as if she were flying, and Alice
very civilly went to meet her with the shawl.
“I’m very glad I happened to be in the way,” Alice said, as she helped
her to put on her shawl again.
The White Queen only looked at her in a helpless frightened sort of
way, and kept repeating something in a whisper to herself that sounded
like “bread-and-butter, bread-and-butter,” and Alice felt that if there
was to be any conversation at all, she must manage it herself. So she
began rather timidly: “Am I addressing the White Queen?”
“Well, yes, if you call that a-dressing,” The Queen said. “It isn’t
_my_ notion of the thing, at all.”
Alice thought it would never do to have an argument at the very
beginning of their conversation, so she smiled and said, “If your
Majesty will only tell me the right way to begin, I’ll do it as well as
I can.”
“But I don’t want it done at all!” groaned the poor Queen. “I’ve been
a-dressing myself for the last two hours.”
It would have been all the better, as it seemed to Alice, if she had
got some one else to dress her, she was so dreadfully untidy. “Every
single thing’s crooked,” Alice thought to herself, “and she’s all over
pins!—may I put your shawl straight for you?” she added aloud.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with it!” the Queen said, in a
melancholy voice. “It’s out of temper, I think. I’ve pinned it here,
and I’ve pinned it there, but there’s no pleasing it!”
“It _can’t_ go straight, you know, if you pin it all on one side,”
Alice said, as she gently put it right for her; “and, dear me, what a
state your hair is in!”
“The brush has got entangled in it!” the Queen said with a sigh. “And I
lost the comb yesterday.”
Alice carefully released the brush, and did her best to get the hair
into order. “Come, you look rather better now!” she said, after
altering most of the pins. “But really you should have a lady’s maid!”
“I’m sure I’ll take you with pleasure!” the Queen said. “Twopence a
week, and jam every other day.”
Alice couldn’t help laughing, as she said, “I don’t want you to hire
_me_—and I don’t care for jam.”
“It’s very good jam,” said the Queen.
“Well, I don’t want any _to-day_, at any rate.”
“You couldn’t have it if you _did_ want it,” the Queen said. “The rule
is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday—but never jam to-day.”
“It _must_ come sometimes to ‘jam to-day,’” Alice objected.
“No, it can’t,” said the Queen. “It’s jam every _other_ day: to-day
isn’t any _other_ day, you know.”
“I don’t understand you,” said Alice. “It’s dreadfully confusing!”
“That’s the effect of living backwards,” the Queen said kindly: “it
always makes one a little giddy at first—”
“Living backwards!” Alice repeated in great astonishment. “I never
heard of such a thing!”
“—but there’s one great advantage in it, that one’s memory works both
ways.”
“I’m sure _mine_ only works one way,” Alice remarked. “I can’t remember
things before they happen.”
“It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,” the Queen
remarked.
“What sort of things do _you_ remember best?” Alice ventured to ask.
“Oh, things that happened the week after next,” the Queen replied in a
careless tone. “For instance, now,” she went on, sticking a large piece
of plaster on her finger as she spoke, “there’s the King’s Messenger.
He’s in prison now, being punished: and the trial doesn’t even begin
till next Wednesday: and of course the crime comes last of all.”
“Suppose he never commits the crime?” said Alice.
“That would be all the better, wouldn’t it?” the Queen said, as she
bound the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.
Alice felt there was no denying _that_. “Of course it would be all the
better,” she said: “but it wouldn’t be all the better his being
punished.”
“You’re wrong _there_, at any rate,” said the Queen: “were _you_ ever
punished?”
“Only for faults,” said Alice.
“And you were all the better for it, I know!” the Queen said
triumphantly.
“Yes, but then I _had_ done the things I was punished for,” said Alice:
“that makes all the difference.”
“But if you _hadn’t_ done them,” the Queen said, “that would have been
better still; better, and better, and better!” Her voice went higher
with each “better,” till it got quite to a squeak at last.
Alice was just beginning to say “There’s a mistake somewhere—,” when
the Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence
unfinished. “Oh, oh, oh!” shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as
if she wanted to shake it off. “My finger’s bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!”
Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that
Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears.
“What _is_ the matter?” she said, as soon as there was a chance of
making herself heard. “Have you pricked your finger?”
“I haven’t pricked it _yet_,” the Queen said, “but I soon shall—oh, oh,
oh!”
“When do you expect to do it?” Alice asked, feeling very much inclined
to laugh.
“When I fasten my shawl again,” the poor Queen groaned out: “the brooch
will come undone directly. Oh, oh!” As she said the words the brooch
flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it
again.
“Take care!” cried Alice. “You’re holding it all crooked!” And she
caught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the
Queen had pricked her finger.
“That accounts for the bleeding, you see,” she said to Alice with a
smile. “Now you understand the way things happen here.”
“But why don’t you scream now?” Alice asked, holding her hands ready to
put over her ears again.
“Why, I’ve done all the screaming already,” said the Queen. “What would
be the good of having it all over again?”
By this time it was getting light. “The crow must have flown away, I
think,” said Alice: “I’m so glad it’s gone. I thought it was the night
coming on.”
“I wish _I_ could manage to be glad!” the Queen said. “Only I never can
remember the rule. You must be very happy, living in this wood, and
being glad whenever you like!”
“Only it is so _very_ lonely here!” Alice said in a melancholy voice;
and at the thought of her loneliness two large tears came rolling down
her cheeks.
“Oh, don’t go on like that!” cried the poor Queen, wringing her hands
in despair. “Consider what a great girl you are. Consider what a long
way you’ve come to-day. Consider what o’clock it is. Consider anything,
only don’t cry!”
Alice could not help laughing at this, even in the midst of her tears.
“Can _you_ keep from crying by considering things?” she asked.
“That’s the way it’s done,” the Queen said with great decision: “nobody
can do two things at once, you know. Let’s consider your age to begin
with—how old are you?”
“I’m seven and a half exactly.”
“You needn’t say ‘exactually,’” the Queen remarked: “I can believe it
without that. Now I’ll give _you_ something to believe. I’m just one
hundred and one, five months and a day.”
“I can’t believe _that_!” said Alice.
“Can’t you?” the Queen said in a pitying tone. “Try again: draw a long
breath, and shut your eyes.”
Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one _can’t_ believe
impossible things.”
“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was
your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve
believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. There goes
the shawl again!”
The brooch had come undone as she spoke, and a sudden gust of wind blew
the Queen’s shawl across a little brook. The Queen spread out her arms
again, and went flying after it, and this time she succeeded in
catching it for herself. “I’ve got it!” she cried in a triumphant tone.
“Now you shall see me pin it on again, all by myself!”
“Then I hope your finger is better now?” Alice said very politely, as
she crossed the little brook after the Queen.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
“Oh, much better!” cried the Queen, her voice rising to a squeak as she
went on. “Much be-etter! Be-etter! Be-e-e-etter! Be-e-ehh!” The last
word ended in a long bleat, so like a sheep that Alice quite started.
She looked at the Queen, who seemed to have suddenly wrapped herself up
in wool. Alice rubbed her eyes, and looked again. She couldn’t make out
what had happened at all. Was she in a shop? And was that really—was it
really a _sheep_ that was sitting on the other side of the counter? Rub
as she could, she could make nothing more of it: she was in a little
dark shop, leaning with her elbows on the counter, and opposite to her
was an old Sheep, sitting in an arm-chair knitting, and every now and
then leaving off to look at her through a great pair of spectacles.
“What is it you want to buy?” the Sheep said at last, looking up for a
moment from her knitting.
“I don’t _quite_ know yet,” Alice said, very gently. “I should like to
look all round me first, if I might.”
“You may look in front of you, and on both sides, if you like,” said
the Sheep: “but you can’t look _all_ round you—unless you’ve got eyes
at the back of your head.”
But these, as it happened, Alice had _not_ got: so she contented
herself with turning round, looking at the shelves as she came to them.
The shop seemed to be full of all manner of curious things—but the
oddest part of it all was, that whenever she looked hard at any shelf,
to make out exactly what it had on it, that particular shelf was always
quite empty: though the others round it were crowded as full as they
could hold.
“Things flow about so here!” she said at last in a plaintive tone,
after she had spent a minute or so in vainly pursuing a large bright
thing, that looked sometimes like a doll and sometimes like a work-box,
and was always in the shelf next above the one she was looking at. “And
this one is the most provoking of all—but I’ll tell you what—” she
added, as a sudden thought struck her, “I’ll follow it up to the very
top shelf of all. It’ll puzzle it to go through the ceiling, I expect!”
But even this plan failed: the “thing” went through the ceiling as
quietly as possible, as if it were quite used to it.
“Are you a child or a teetotum?” the Sheep said, as she took up another
pair of needles. “You’ll make me giddy soon, if you go on turning round
like that.” She was now working with fourteen pairs at once, and Alice
couldn’t help looking at her in great astonishment.
“How _can_ she knit with so many?” the puzzled child thought to
herself. “She gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!”
“Can you row?” the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles
as she spoke.
“Yes, a little—but not on land—and not with needles—” Alice was
beginning to say, when suddenly the needles turned into oars in her
hands, and she found they were in a little boat, gliding along between
banks: so there was nothing for it but to do her best.
“Feather!” cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.
This didn’t sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said
nothing, but pulled away. There was something very queer about the
water, she thought, as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and
would hardly come out again.
“Feather! Feather!” the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. “You’ll
be catching a crab directly.”
“A dear little crab!” thought Alice. “I should like that.”
“Didn’t you hear me say ‘Feather’?” the Sheep cried angrily, taking up
quite a bunch of needles.
“Indeed I did,” said Alice: “you’ve said it very often—and very loud.
Please, where _are_ the crabs?”
“In the water, of course!” said the Sheep, sticking some of the needles
into her hair, as her hands were full. “Feather, I say!”
“_Why_ do you say ‘feather’ so often?” Alice asked at last, rather
vexed. “I’m not a bird!”
“You are,” said the Sheep: “you’re a little goose.”
This offended Alice a little, so there was no more conversation for a
minute or two, while the boat glided gently on, sometimes among beds of
weeds (which made the oars stick fast in the water, worse then ever),
and sometimes under trees, but always with the same tall river-banks
frowning over their heads.
“Oh, please! There are some scented rushes!” Alice cried in a sudden
transport of delight. “There really are—and _such_ beauties!”
“You needn’t say ‘please’ to _me_ about ’em,” the Sheep said, without
looking up from her knitting: “I didn’t put ’em there, and I’m not
going to take ’em away.”
“No, but I meant—please, may we wait and pick some?” Alice pleaded. “If
you don’t mind stopping the boat for a minute.”
“How am _I_ to stop it?” said the Sheep. “If you leave off rowing,
it’ll stop of itself.”
So the boat was left to drift down the stream as it would, till it
glided gently in among the waving rushes. And then the little sleeves
were carefully rolled up, and the little arms were plunged in
elbow-deep to get the rushes a good long way down before breaking them
off—and for a while Alice forgot all about the Sheep and the knitting,
as she bent over the side of the boat, with just the ends of her
tangled hair dipping into the water—while with bright eager eyes she
caught at one bunch after another of the darling scented rushes.
“I only hope the boat won’t tipple over!” she said to herself. “Oh,
_what_ a lovely one! Only I couldn’t quite reach it.” And it certainly
_did_ seem a little provoking (“almost as if it happened on purpose,”
she thought) that, though she managed to pick plenty of beautiful
rushes as the boat glided by, there was always a more lovely one that
she couldn’t reach.
“The prettiest are always further!” she said at last, with a sigh at
the obstinacy of the rushes in growing so far off, as, with flushed
cheeks and dripping hair and hands, she scrambled back into her place,
and began to arrange her new-found treasures.
What mattered it to her just then that the rushes had begun to fade,
and to lose all their scent and beauty, from the very moment that she
picked them? Even real scented rushes, you know, last only a very
little while—and these, being dream-rushes, melted away almost like
snow, as they lay in heaps at her feet—but Alice hardly noticed this,
there were so many other curious things to think about.
They hadn’t gone much farther before the blade of one of the oars got
fast in the water and _wouldn’t_ come out again (so Alice explained it
afterwards), and the consequence was that the handle of it caught her
under the chin, and, in spite of a series of little shrieks of “Oh, oh,
oh!” from poor Alice, it swept her straight off the seat, and down
among the heap of rushes.
However, she wasn’t hurt, and was soon up again: the Sheep went on with
her knitting all the while, just as if nothing had happened. “That was
a nice crab you caught!” she remarked, as Alice got back into her
place, very much relieved to find herself still in the boat.
“Was it? I didn’t see it,” Said Alice, peeping cautiously over the side
of the boat into the dark water. “I wish it hadn’t let go—I should so
like to see a little crab to take home with me!” But the Sheep only
laughed scornfully, and went on with her knitting.
“Are there many crabs here?” said Alice.
“Crabs, and all sorts of things,” said the Sheep: “plenty of choice,
only make up your mind. Now, what _do_ you want to buy?”
“To buy!” Alice echoed in a tone that was half astonished and half
frightened—for the oars, and the boat, and the river, had vanished all
in a moment, and she was back again in the little dark shop.
“I should like to buy an egg, please,” she said timidly. “How do you
sell them?”
“Fivepence farthing for one—Twopence for two,” the Sheep replied.
“Then two are cheaper than one?” Alice said in a surprised tone, taking
out her purse.
“Only you _must_ eat them both, if you buy two,” said the Sheep.
“Then I’ll have _one_, please,” said Alice, as she put the money down
on the counter. For she thought to herself, “They mightn’t be at all
nice, you know.”
The Sheep took the money, and put it away in a box: then she said “I
never put things into people’s hands—that would never do—you must get
it for yourself.” And so saying, she went off to the other end of the
shop, and set the egg upright on a shelf.
“I wonder _why_ it wouldn’t do?” thought Alice, as she groped her way
among the tables and chairs, for the shop was very dark towards the
end. “The egg seems to get further away the more I walk towards it. Let
me see, is this a chair? Why, it’s got branches, I declare! How very
odd to find trees growing here! And actually here’s a little brook!
Well, this is the very queerest shop I ever saw!”
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
So she went on, wondering more and more at every step, as everything
turned into a tree the moment she came up to it, and she quite expected
the egg to do the same.
CHAPTER VI.
Humpty Dumpty
However, the egg only got larger and larger, and more and more human:
when she had come within a few yards of it, she saw that it had eyes
and a nose and mouth; and when she had come close to it, she saw
clearly that it was HUMPTY DUMPTY himself. “It can’t be anybody else!”
she said to herself. “I’m as certain of it, as if his name were written
all over his face.”
It might have been written a hundred times, easily, on that enormous
face. Humpty Dumpty was sitting with his legs crossed, like a Turk, on
the top of a high wall—such a narrow one that Alice quite wondered how
he could keep his balance—and, as his eyes were steadily fixed in the
opposite direction, and he didn’t take the least notice of her, she
thought he must be a stuffed figure after all.
“And how exactly like an egg he is!” she said aloud, standing with her
hands ready to catch him, for she was every moment expecting him to
fall.
“It’s _very_ provoking,” Humpty Dumpty said after a long silence,
looking away from Alice as he spoke, “to be called an egg—_Very!_”
“I said you _looked_ like an egg, Sir,” Alice gently explained. “And
some eggs are very pretty, you know” she added, hoping to turn her
remark into a sort of a compliment.
“Some people,” said Humpty Dumpty, looking away from her as usual,
“have no more sense than a baby!”
Alice didn’t know what to say to this: it wasn’t at all like
conversation, she thought, as he never said anything to _her_; in fact,
his last remark was evidently addressed to a tree—so she stood and
softly repeated to herself:—
“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall:
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty in his place again.”
“That last line is much too long for the poetry,” she added, almost out
loud, forgetting that Humpty Dumpty would hear her.
“Don’t stand there chattering to yourself like that,” Humpty Dumpty
said, looking at her for the first time, “but tell me your name and
your business.”
“My _name_ is Alice, but—”
“It’s a stupid enough name!” Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently.
“What does it mean?”
“_Must_ a name mean something?” Alice asked doubtfully.
“Of course it must,” Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh: “_my_ name
means the shape I am—and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name
like yours, you might be any shape, almost.”
“Why do you sit out here all alone?” said Alice, not wishing to begin
an argument.
“Why, because there’s nobody with me!” cried Humpty Dumpty. “Did you
think I didn’t know the answer to _that_? Ask another.”
“Don’t you think you’d be safer down on the ground?” Alice went on, not
with any idea of making another riddle, but simply in her good-natured
anxiety for the queer creature. “That wall is so _very_ narrow!”
“What tremendously easy riddles you ask!” Humpty Dumpty growled out.
“Of course I don’t think so! Why, if ever I _did_ fall off—which
there’s no chance of—but _if_ I did—” Here he pursed his lips and
looked so solemn and grand that Alice could hardly help laughing. “_If_
I did fall,” he went on, “_The King has promised me—with his very own
mouth_—to—to—”
“To send all his horses and all his men,” Alice interrupted, rather
unwisely.
“Now I declare that’s too bad!” Humpty Dumpty cried, breaking into a
sudden passion. “You’ve been listening at doors—and behind trees—and
down chimneys—or you couldn’t have known it!”
“I haven’t, indeed!” Alice said very gently. “It’s in a book.”
“Ah, well! They may write such things in a _book_,” Humpty Dumpty said
in a calmer tone. “That’s what you call a History of England, that is.
Now, take a good look at me! I’m one that has spoken to a King, _I_ am:
mayhap you’ll never see such another: and to show you I’m not proud,
you may shake hands with me!” And he grinned almost from ear to ear, as
he leant forwards (and as nearly as possible fell off the wall in doing
so) and offered Alice his hand. She watched him a little anxiously as
she took it. “If he smiled much more, the ends of his mouth might meet
behind,” she thought: “and then I don’t know what would happen to his
head! I’m afraid it would come off!”
“Yes, all his horses and all his men,” Humpty Dumpty went on. “They’d
pick me up again in a minute, _they_ would! However, this conversation
is going on a little too fast: let’s go back to the last remark but
one.”
“I’m afraid I can’t quite remember it,” Alice said very politely.
“In that case we start fresh,” said Humpty Dumpty, “and it’s my turn to
choose a subject—” (“He talks about it just as if it was a game!”
thought Alice.) “So here’s a question for you. How old did you say you
were?”
Alice made a short calculation, and said “Seven years and six months.”
“Wrong!” Humpty Dumpty exclaimed triumphantly. “You never said a word
like it!”
“I though you meant ‘How old _are_ you?’” Alice explained.
“If I’d meant that, I’d have said it,” said Humpty Dumpty.
Alice didn’t want to begin another argument, so she said nothing.
“Seven years and six months!” Humpty Dumpty repeated thoughtfully. “An
uncomfortable sort of age. Now if you’d asked _my_ advice, I’d have
said ‘Leave off at seven’—but it’s too late now.”
“I never ask advice about growing,” Alice said indignantly.
“Too proud?” the other inquired.
Alice felt even more indignant at this suggestion. “I mean,” she said,
“that one can’t help growing older.”
“_One_ can’t, perhaps,” said Humpty Dumpty, “but _two_ can. With proper
assistance, you might have left off at seven.”
“What a beautiful belt you’ve got on!” Alice suddenly remarked.
(They had had quite enough of the subject of age, she thought: and if
they really were to take turns in choosing subjects, it was her turn
now.) “At least,” she corrected herself on second thoughts, “a
beautiful cravat, I should have said—no, a belt, I mean—I beg your
pardon!” she added in dismay, for Humpty Dumpty looked thoroughly
offended, and she began to wish she hadn’t chosen that subject. “If I
only knew,” she thought to herself, “which was neck and which was
waist!”
Evidently Humpty Dumpty was very angry, though he said nothing for a
minute or two. When he _did_ speak again, it was in a deep growl.
“It is a—_most—provoking_—thing,” he said at last, “when a person
doesn’t know a cravat from a belt!”
“I know it’s very ignorant of me,” Alice said, in so humble a tone that
Humpty Dumpty relented.
“It’s a cravat, child, and a beautiful one, as you say. It’s a present
from the White King and Queen. There now!”
“Is it really?” said Alice, quite pleased to find that she _had_ chosen
a good subject, after all.
“They gave it me,” Humpty Dumpty continued thoughtfully, as he crossed
one knee over the other and clasped his hands round it, “they gave it
me—for an un-birthday present.”
“I beg your pardon?” Alice said with a puzzled air.
“I’m not offended,” said Humpty Dumpty.
“I mean, what _is_ an un-birthday present?”
“A present given when it isn’t your birthday, of course.”
Alice considered a little. “I like birthday presents best,” she said at
last.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” cried Humpty Dumpty. “How
many days are there in a year?”
“Three hundred and sixty-five,” said Alice.
“And how many birthdays have you?”
“One.”
“And if you take one from three hundred and sixty-five, what remains?”
“Three hundred and sixty-four, of course.”
Humpty Dumpty looked doubtful. “I’d rather see that done on paper,” he
said.
Alice couldn’t help smiling as she took out her memorandum-book, and
worked the sum for him:
365
1
____
364
___
Humpty Dumpty took the book, and looked at it carefully. “That seems to
be done right—” he began.
“You’re holding it upside down!” Alice interrupted.
“To be sure I was!” Humpty Dumpty said gaily, as she turned it round
for him. “I thought it looked a little queer. As I was saying, that
_seems_ to be done right—though I haven’t time to look it over
thoroughly just now—and that shows that there are three hundred and
sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents—”
“Certainly,” said Alice.
“And only _one_ for birthday presents, you know. There’s glory for
you!”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory,’” Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. “Of course you don’t—till I tell
you. I meant ‘there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!’”
“But ‘glory’ doesn’t mean ‘a nice knock-down argument,’” Alice
objected.
“When _I_ use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone,
“it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”
“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you _can_ make words mean so
many different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master—that’s
all.”
Alice was too much puzzled to say anything, so after a minute Humpty
Dumpty began again. “They’ve a temper, some of them—particularly verbs,
they’re the proudest—adjectives you can do anything with, but not
verbs—however, _I_ can manage the whole lot of them! Impenetrability!
That’s what _I_ say!”
“Would you tell me, please,” said Alice “what that means?”
“Now you talk like a reasonable child,” said Humpty Dumpty, looking
very much pleased. “I meant by ‘impenetrability’ that we’ve had enough
of that subject, and it would be just as well if you’d mention what you
mean to do next, as I suppose you don’t mean to stop here all the rest
of your life.”
“That’s a great deal to make one word mean,” Alice said in a thoughtful
tone.
“When I make a word do a lot of work like that,” said Humpty Dumpty, “I
always pay it extra.”
“Oh!” said Alice. She was too much puzzled to make any other remark.
“Ah, you should see ’em come round me of a Saturday night,” Humpty
Dumpty went on, wagging his head gravely from side to side: “for to get
their wages, you know.”
(Alice didn’t venture to ask what he paid them with; and so you see I
can’t tell _you_.)
“You seem very clever at explaining words, Sir,” said Alice. “Would you
kindly tell me the meaning of the poem called ‘Jabberwocky’?”
“Let’s hear it,” said Humpty Dumpty. “I can explain all the poems that
were ever invented—and a good many that haven’t been invented just
yet.”
This sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse:
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“That’s enough to begin with,” Humpty Dumpty interrupted: “there are
plenty of hard words there. ‘_Brillig_’ means four o’clock in the
afternoon—the time when you begin _broiling_ things for dinner.”
“That’ll do very well,” said Alice: “and ‘_slithy_’?”
“Well, ‘_slithy_’ means ‘lithe and slimy.’ ‘Lithe’ is the same as
‘active.’ You see it’s like a portmanteau—there are two meanings packed
up into one word.”
“I see it now,” Alice remarked thoughtfully: “and what are ‘_toves_’?”
“Well, ‘_toves_’ are something like badgers—they’re something like
lizards—and they’re something like corkscrews.”
“They must be very curious looking creatures.”
“They are that,” said Humpty Dumpty: “also they make their nests under
sun-dials—also they live on cheese.”
“And what’s the ‘_gyre_’ and to ‘_gimble_’?”
“To ‘_gyre_’ is to go round and round like a gyroscope. To ‘_gimble_’
is to make holes like a gimlet.”
“And ‘_the wabe_’ is the grass-plot round a sun-dial, I suppose?” said
Alice, surprised at her own ingenuity.
“Of course it is. It’s called ‘_wabe_,’ you know, because it goes a
long way before it, and a long way behind it—”
“And a long way beyond it on each side,” Alice added.
“Exactly so. Well, then, ‘_mimsy_’ is ‘flimsy and miserable’ (there’s
another portmanteau for you). And a ‘_borogove_’ is a thin
shabby-looking bird with its feathers sticking out all round—something
like a live mop.”
“And then ‘_mome raths_’?” said Alice. “I’m afraid I’m giving you a
great deal of trouble.”
“Well, a ‘_rath_’ is a sort of green pig: but ‘_mome_’ I’m not certain
about. I think it’s short for ‘from home’—meaning that they’d lost
their way, you know.”
“And what does ‘_outgrabe_’ mean?”
“Well, ‘_outgrabing_’ is something between bellowing and whistling,
with a kind of sneeze in the middle: however, you’ll hear it done,
maybe—down in the wood yonder—and when you’ve once heard it you’ll be
_quite_ content. Who’s been repeating all that hard stuff to you?”
“I read it in a book,” said Alice. “But I had some poetry repeated to
me, much easier than that, by—Tweedledee, I think it was.”
“As to poetry, you know,” said Humpty Dumpty, stretching out one of his
great hands, “_I_ can repeat poetry as well as other folk, if it comes
to that—”
“Oh, it needn’t come to that!” Alice hastily said, hoping to keep him
from beginning.
“The piece I’m going to repeat,” he went on without noticing her
remark, “was written entirely for your amusement.”
Alice felt that in that case she really _ought_ to listen to it, so she
sat down, and said “Thank you” rather sadly.
“In winter, when the fields are white,
I sing this song for your delight—
only I don’t sing it,” he added, as an explanation.
“I see you don’t,” said Alice.
“If you can _see_ whether I’m singing or not, you’ve sharper eyes than
most.” Humpty Dumpty remarked severely. Alice was silent.
“In spring, when woods are getting green,
I’ll try and tell you what I mean.”
“Thank you very much,” said Alice.
“In summer, when the days are long,
Perhaps you’ll understand the song:
In autumn, when the leaves are brown,
Take pen and ink, and write it down.”
“I will, if I can remember it so long,” said Alice.
“You needn’t go on making remarks like that,” Humpty Dumpty said:
“they’re not sensible, and they put me out.”
“I sent a message to the fish:
I told them ‘This is what I wish.’
The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer back to me.
The little fishes’ answer was
‘We cannot do it, Sir, because—’”
“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” said Alice.
“It gets easier further on,” Humpty Dumpty replied.
“I sent to them again to say
‘It will be better to obey.’
The fishes answered with a grin,
‘Why, what a temper you are in!’
I told them once, I told them twice:
They would not listen to advice.
I took a kettle large and new,
Fit for the deed I had to do.
My heart went hop, my heart went thump;
I filled the kettle at the pump.
Then some one came to me and said,
‘The little fishes are in bed.’
I said to him, I said it plain,
‘Then you must wake them up again.’
I said it very loud and clear;
I went and shouted in his ear.”
Humpty Dumpty raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this
verse, and Alice thought with a shudder, “I wouldn’t have been the
messenger for _anything_!”
“But he was very stiff and proud;
He said ‘You needn’t shout so loud!’
And he was very proud and stiff;
He said ‘I’d go and wake them, if—’
I took a corkscrew from the shelf:
I went to wake them up myself.
And when I found the door was locked,
I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked.
And when I found the door was shut,
I tried to turn the handle, but—”
There was a long pause.
“Is that all?” Alice timidly asked.
“That’s all,” said Humpty Dumpty. “Good-bye.”
This was rather sudden, Alice thought: but, after such a _very_ strong
hint that she ought to be going, she felt that it would hardly be civil
to stay. So she got up, and held out her hand. “Good-bye, till we meet
again!” she said as cheerfully as she could.
“I shouldn’t know you again if we _did_ meet,” Humpty Dumpty replied in
a discontented tone, giving her one of his fingers to shake; “you’re so
exactly like other people.”
“The face is what one goes by, generally,” Alice remarked in a
thoughtful tone.
“That’s just what I complain of,” said Humpty Dumpty. “Your face is the
same as everybody has—the two eyes, so—” (marking their places in the
air with this thumb) “nose in the middle, mouth under. It’s always the
same. Now if you had the two eyes on the same side of the nose, for
instance—or the mouth at the top—that would be _some_ help.”
“It wouldn’t look nice,” Alice objected. But Humpty Dumpty only shut
his eyes and said “Wait till you’ve tried.”
Alice waited a minute to see if he would speak again, but as he never
opened his eyes or took any further notice of her, she said “Good-bye!”
once more, and, getting no answer to this, she quietly walked away: but
she couldn’t help saying to herself as she went, “Of all the
unsatisfactory—” (she repeated this aloud, as it was a great comfort to
have such a long word to say) “of all the unsatisfactory people I
_ever_ met—” She never finished the sentence, for at this moment a
heavy crash shook the forest from end to end.
CHAPTER VII.
The Lion and the Unicorn
The next moment soldiers came running through the wood, at first in
twos and threes, then ten or twenty together, and at last in such
crowds that they seemed to fill the whole forest. Alice got behind a
tree, for fear of being run over, and watched them go by.
She thought that in all her life she had never seen soldiers so
uncertain on their feet: they were always tripping over something or
other, and whenever one went down, several more always fell over him,
so that the ground was soon covered with little heaps of men.
Then came the horses. Having four feet, these managed rather better
than the foot-soldiers: but even _they_ stumbled now and then; and it
seemed to be a regular rule that, whenever a horse stumbled the rider
fell off instantly. The confusion got worse every moment, and Alice was
very glad to get out of the wood into an open place, where she found
the White King seated on the ground, busily writing in his
memorandum-book.
“I’ve sent them all!” the King cried in a tone of delight, on seeing
Alice. “Did you happen to meet any soldiers, my dear, as you came
through the wood?”
“Yes, I did,” said Alice: “several thousand, I should think.”
“Four thousand two hundred and seven, that’s the exact number,” the
King said, referring to his book. “I couldn’t send all the horses, you
know, because two of them are wanted in the game. And I haven’t sent
the two Messengers, either. They’re both gone to the town. Just look
along the road, and tell me if you can see either of them.”
“I see nobody on the road,” said Alice.
“I only wish _I_ had such eyes,” the King remarked in a fretful tone.
“To be able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, it’s as much
as _I_ can do to see real people, by this light!”
All this was lost on Alice, who was still looking intently along the
road, shading her eyes with one hand. “I see somebody now!” she
exclaimed at last. “But he’s coming very slowly—and what curious
attitudes he goes into!” (For the messenger kept skipping up and down,
and wriggling like an eel, as he came along, with his great hands
spread out like fans on each side.)
“Not at all,” said the King. “He’s an Anglo-Saxon Messenger—and those
are Anglo-Saxon attitudes. He only does them when he’s happy. His name
is Haigha.” (He pronounced it so as to rhyme with “mayor.”)
“I love my love with an H,” Alice couldn’t help beginning, “because he
is Happy. I hate him with an H, because he is Hideous. I fed him
with—with—with Ham-sandwiches and Hay. His name is Haigha, and he
lives—”
“He lives on the Hill,” the King remarked simply, without the least
idea that he was joining in the game, while Alice was still hesitating
for the name of a town beginning with H. “The other Messenger’s called
Hatta. I must have _two_, you know—to come and go. One to come, and one
to go.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Alice.
“It isn’t respectable to beg,” said the King.
“I only meant that I didn’t understand,” said Alice. “Why one to come
and one to go?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” the King repeated impatiently. “I must have
_two_—to fetch and carry. One to fetch, and one to carry.”
At this moment the Messenger arrived: he was far too much out of breath
to say a word, and could only wave his hands about, and make the most
fearful faces at the poor King.
“This young lady loves you with an H,” the King said, introducing Alice
in the hope of turning off the Messenger’s attention from himself—but
it was no use—the Anglo-Saxon attitudes only got more extraordinary
every moment, while the great eyes rolled wildly from side to side.
“You alarm me!” said the King. “I feel faint—Give me a ham sandwich!”
On which the Messenger, to Alice’s great amusement, opened a bag that
hung round his neck, and handed a sandwich to the King, who devoured it
greedily.
“Another sandwich!” said the King.
“There’s nothing but hay left now,” the Messenger said, peeping into
the bag.
“Hay, then,” the King murmured in a faint whisper.
Alice was glad to see that it revived him a good deal. “There’s nothing
like eating hay when you’re faint,” he remarked to her, as he munched
away.
“I should think throwing cold water over you would be better,” Alice
suggested: “or some sal-volatile.”
“I didn’t say there was nothing _better_,” the King replied. “I said
there was nothing _like_ it.” Which Alice did not venture to deny.
“Who did you pass on the road?” the King went on, holding out his hand
to the Messenger for some more hay.
“Nobody,” said the Messenger.
“Quite right,” said the King: “this young lady saw him too. So of
course Nobody walks slower than you.”
“I do my best,” the Messenger said in a sulky tone. “I’m sure nobody
walks much faster than I do!”
“He can’t do that,” said the King, “or else he’d have been here first.
However, now you’ve got your breath, you may tell us what’s happened in
the town.”
“I’ll whisper it,” said the Messenger, putting his hands to his mouth
in the shape of a trumpet, and stooping so as to get close to the
King’s ear. Alice was sorry for this, as she wanted to hear the news
too. However, instead of whispering, he simply shouted at the top of
his voice “They’re at it again!”
“Do you call _that_ a whisper?” cried the poor King, jumping up and
shaking himself. “If you do such a thing again, I’ll have you buttered!
It went through and through my head like an earthquake!”
“It would have to be a very tiny earthquake!” thought Alice. “Who are
at it again?” she ventured to ask.
“Why the Lion and the Unicorn, of course,” said the King.
“Fighting for the crown?”
“Yes, to be sure,” said the King: “and the best of the joke is, that
it’s _my_ crown all the while! Let’s run and see them.” And they
trotted off, Alice repeating to herself, as she ran, the words of the
old song:—
“The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the crown:
The Lion beat the Unicorn all round the town.
Some gave them white bread, some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum-cake and drummed them out of town.”
“Does—the one—that wins—get the crown?” she asked, as well as she
could, for the run was putting her quite out of breath.
“Dear me, no!” said the King. “What an idea!”
“Would you—be good enough,” Alice panted out, after running a little
further, “to stop a minute—just to get—one’s breath again?”
“I’m _good_ enough,” the King said, “only I’m not strong enough. You
see, a minute goes by so fearfully quick. You might as well try to stop
a Bandersnatch!”
Alice had no more breath for talking, so they trotted on in silence,
till they came in sight of a great crowd, in the middle of which the
Lion and Unicorn were fighting. They were in such a cloud of dust, that
at first Alice could not make out which was which: but she soon managed
to distinguish the Unicorn by his horn.
They placed themselves close to where Hatta, the other messenger, was
standing watching the fight, with a cup of tea in one hand and a piece
of bread-and-butter in the other.
“He’s only just out of prison, and he hadn’t finished his tea when he
was sent in,” Haigha whispered to Alice: “and they only give them
oyster-shells in there—so you see he’s very hungry and thirsty. How are
you, dear child?” he went on, putting his arm affectionately round
Hatta’s neck.
Hatta looked round and nodded, and went on with his bread and butter.
“Were you happy in prison, dear child?” said Haigha.
Hatta looked round once more, and this time a tear or two trickled down
his cheek: but not a word would he say.
“Speak, can’t you!” Haigha cried impatiently. But Hatta only munched
away, and drank some more tea.
“Speak, won’t you!” cried the King. “How are they getting on with the
fight?”
Hatta made a desperate effort, and swallowed a large piece of
bread-and-butter. “They’re getting on very well,” he said in a choking
voice: “each of them has been down about eighty-seven times.”
“Then I suppose they’ll soon bring the white bread and the brown?”
Alice ventured to remark.
“It’s waiting for ’em now,” said Hatta: “this is a bit of it as I’m
eating.”
There was a pause in the fight just then, and the Lion and the Unicorn
sat down, panting, while the King called out “Ten minutes allowed for
refreshments!” Haigha and Hatta set to work at once, carrying rough
trays of white and brown bread. Alice took a piece to taste, but it was
_very_ dry.
“I don’t think they’ll fight any more to-day,” the King said to Hatta:
“go and order the drums to begin.” And Hatta went bounding away like a
grasshopper.
For a minute or two Alice stood silent, watching him. Suddenly she
brightened up. “Look, look!” she cried, pointing eagerly. “There’s the
White Queen running across the country! She came flying out of the wood
over yonder—How fast those Queens _can_ run!”
“There’s some enemy after her, no doubt,” the King said, without even
looking round. “That wood’s full of them.”
“But aren’t you going to run and help her?” Alice asked, very much
surprised at his taking it so quietly.
“No use, no use!” said the King. “She runs so fearfully quick. You
might as well try to catch a Bandersnatch! But I’ll make a memorandum
about her, if you like—She’s a dear good creature,” he repeated softly
to himself, as he opened his memorandum-book. “Do you spell ‘creature’
with a double ‘e’?”
At this moment the Unicorn sauntered by them, with his hands in his
pockets. “I had the best of it this time?” he said to the King, just
glancing at him as he passed.
“A little—a little,” the King replied, rather nervously. “You shouldn’t
have run him through with your horn, you know.”
“It didn’t hurt him,” the Unicorn said carelessly, and he was going on,
when his eye happened to fall upon Alice: he turned round rather
instantly, and stood for some time looking at her with an air of the
deepest disgust.
“What—is—this?” he said at last.
“This is a child!” Haigha replied eagerly, coming in front of Alice to
introduce her, and spreading out both his hands towards her in an
Anglo-Saxon attitude. “We only found it to-day. It’s as large as life,
and twice as natural!”
“I always thought they were fabulous monsters!” said the Unicorn. “Is
it alive?”
“It can talk,” said Haigha, solemnly.
The Unicorn looked dreamily at Alice, and said “Talk, child.”
Alice could not help her lips curling up into a smile as she began: “Do
you know, I always thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too! I
never saw one alive before!”
“Well, now that we _have_ seen each other,” said the Unicorn, “if
you’ll believe in me, I’ll believe in you. Is that a bargain?”
“Yes, if you like,” said Alice.
“Come, fetch out the plum-cake, old man!” the Unicorn went on, turning
from her to the King. “None of your brown bread for me!”
“Certainly—certainly!” the King muttered, and beckoned to Haigha. “Open
the bag!” he whispered. “Quick! Not that one—that’s full of hay!”
Haigha took a large cake out of the bag, and gave it to Alice to hold,
while he got out a dish and carving-knife. How they all came out of it
Alice couldn’t guess. It was just like a conjuring-trick, she thought.
The Lion had joined them while this was going on: he looked very tired
and sleepy, and his eyes were half shut. “What’s this!” he said,
blinking lazily at Alice, and speaking in a deep hollow tone that
sounded like the tolling of a great bell.
“Ah, what _is_ it, now?” the Unicorn cried eagerly. “You’ll never
guess! _I_ couldn’t.”
The Lion looked at Alice wearily. “Are you animal—vegetable—or
mineral?” he said, yawning at every other word.
“It’s a fabulous monster!” the Unicorn cried out, before Alice could
reply.
“Then hand round the plum-cake, Monster,” the Lion said, lying down and
putting his chin on his paws. “And sit down, both of you,” (to the King
and the Unicorn): “fair play with the cake, you know!”
The King was evidently very uncomfortable at having to sit down between
the two great creatures; but there was no other place for him.
“What a fight we might have for the crown, _now_!” the Unicorn said,
looking slyly up at the crown, which the poor King was nearly shaking
off his head, he trembled so much.
“I should win easy,” said the Lion.
“I’m not so sure of that,” said the Unicorn.
“Why, I beat you all round the town, you chicken!” the Lion replied
angrily, half getting up as he spoke.
Here the King interrupted, to prevent the quarrel going on: he was very
nervous, and his voice quite quivered. “All round the town?” he said.
“That’s a good long way. Did you go by the old bridge, or the
market-place? You get the best view by the old bridge.”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” the Lion growled out as he lay down again.
“There was too much dust to see anything. What a time the Monster is,
cutting up that cake!”
Alice had seated herself on the bank of a little brook, with the great
dish on her knees, and was sawing away diligently with the knife. “It’s
very provoking!” she said, in reply to the Lion (she was getting quite
used to being called “the Monster”). “I’ve cut several slices already,
but they always join on again!”
“You don’t know how to manage Looking-glass cakes,” the Unicorn
remarked. “Hand it round first, and cut it afterwards.”
This sounded nonsense, but Alice very obediently got up, and carried
the dish round, and the cake divided itself into three pieces as she
did so. “_Now_ cut it up,” said the Lion, as she returned to her place
with the empty dish.
“I say, this isn’t fair!” cried the Unicorn, as Alice sat with the
knife in her hand, very much puzzled how to begin. “The Monster has
given the Lion twice as much as me!”
“She’s kept none for herself, anyhow,” said the Lion. “Do you like
plum-cake, Monster?”
But before Alice could answer him, the drums began.
Where the noise came from, she couldn’t make out: the air seemed full
of it, and it rang through and through her head till she felt quite
deafened. She started to her feet and sprang across the little brook in
her terror,
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
and had just time to see the Lion and the Unicorn rise to their feet,
with angry looks at being interrupted in their feast, before she
dropped to her knees, and put her hands over her ears, vainly trying to
shut out the dreadful uproar.
“If _that_ doesn’t ‘drum them out of town,’” she thought to herself,
“nothing ever will!”
CHAPTER VIII.
“It’s my own Invention”
After a while the noise seemed gradually to die away, till all was dead
silence, and Alice lifted up her head in some alarm. There was no one
to be seen, and her first thought was that she must have been dreaming
about the Lion and the Unicorn and those queer Anglo-Saxon Messengers.
However, there was the great dish still lying at her feet, on which she
had tried to cut the plum-cake, “So I wasn’t dreaming, after all,” she
said to herself, “unless—unless we’re all part of the same dream. Only
I do hope it’s _my_ dream, and not the Red King’s! I don’t like
belonging to another person’s dream,” she went on in a rather
complaining tone: “I’ve a great mind to go and wake him, and see what
happens!”
At this moment her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shouting of
“Ahoy! Ahoy! Check!” and a Knight dressed in crimson armour came
galloping down upon her, brandishing a great club. Just as he reached
her, the horse stopped suddenly: “You’re my prisoner!” the Knight
cried, as he tumbled off his horse.
Startled as she was, Alice was more frightened for him than for herself
at the moment, and watched him with some anxiety as he mounted again.
As soon as he was comfortably in the saddle, he began once more “You’re
my—” but here another voice broke in “Ahoy! Ahoy! Check!” and Alice
looked round in some surprise for the new enemy.
This time it was a White Knight. He drew up at Alice’s side, and
tumbled off his horse just as the Red Knight had done: then he got on
again, and the two Knights sat and looked at each other for some time
without speaking. Alice looked from one to the other in some
bewilderment.
“She’s _my_ prisoner, you know!” the Red Knight said at last.
“Yes, but then _I_ came and rescued her!” the White Knight replied.
“Well, we must fight for her, then,” said the Red Knight, as he took up
his helmet (which hung from the saddle, and was something the shape of
a horse’s head), and put it on.
“You will observe the Rules of Battle, of course?” the White Knight
remarked, putting on his helmet too.
“I always do,” said the Red Knight, and they began banging away at each
other with such fury that Alice got behind a tree to be out of the way
of the blows.
“I wonder, now, what the Rules of Battle are,” she said to herself, as
she watched the fight, timidly peeping out from her hiding-place: “one
Rule seems to be, that if one Knight hits the other, he knocks him off
his horse, and if he misses, he tumbles off himself—and another Rule
seems to be that they hold their clubs with their arms, as if they were
Punch and Judy—What a noise they make when they tumble! Just like a
whole set of fire-irons falling into the fender! And how quiet the
horses are! They let them get on and off them just as if they were
tables!”
Another Rule of Battle, that Alice had not noticed, seemed to be that
they always fell on their heads, and the battle ended with their both
falling off in this way, side by side: when they got up again, they
shook hands, and then the Red Knight mounted and galloped off.
“It was a glorious victory, wasn’t it?” said the White Knight, as he
came up panting.
“I don’t know,” Alice said doubtfully. “I don’t want to be anybody’s
prisoner. I want to be a Queen.”
“So you will, when you’ve crossed the next brook,” said the White
Knight. “I’ll see you safe to the end of the wood—and then I must go
back, you know. That’s the end of my move.”
“Thank you very much,” said Alice. “May I help you off with your
helmet?” It was evidently more than he could manage by himself;
however, she managed to shake him out of it at last.
“Now one can breathe more easily,” said the Knight, putting back his
shaggy hair with both hands, and turning his gentle face and large mild
eyes to Alice. She thought she had never seen such a strange-looking
soldier in all her life.
He was dressed in tin armour, which seemed to fit him very badly, and
he had a queer-shaped little deal box fastened across his shoulder,
upside-down, and with the lid hanging open. Alice looked at it with
great curiosity.
“I see you’re admiring my little box.” the Knight said in a friendly
tone. “It’s my own invention—to keep clothes and sandwiches in. You see
I carry it upside-down, so that the rain can’t get in.”
“But the things can get _out_,” Alice gently remarked. “Do you know the
lid’s open?”
“I didn’t know it,” the Knight said, a shade of vexation passing over
his face. “Then all the things must have fallen out! And the box is no
use without them.” He unfastened it as he spoke, and was just going to
throw it into the bushes, when a sudden thought seemed to strike him,
and he hung it carefully on a tree. “Can you guess why I did that?” he
said to Alice.
Alice shook her head.
“In hopes some bees may make a nest in it—then I should get the honey.”
“But you’ve got a bee-hive—or something like one—fastened to the
saddle,” said Alice.
“Yes, it’s a very good bee-hive,” the Knight said in a discontented
tone, “one of the best kind. But not a single bee has come near it yet.
And the other thing is a mouse-trap. I suppose the mice keep the bees
out—or the bees keep the mice out, I don’t know which.”
“I was wondering what the mouse-trap was for,” said Alice. “It isn’t
very likely there would be any mice on the horse’s back.”
“Not very likely, perhaps,” said the Knight: “but if they _do_ come, I
don’t choose to have them running all about.”
“You see,” he went on after a pause, “it’s as well to be provided for
_everything_. That’s the reason the horse has all those anklets round
his feet.”
“But what are they for?” Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.
“To guard against the bites of sharks,” the Knight replied. “It’s an
invention of my own. And now help me on. I’ll go with you to the end of
the wood—What’s the dish for?”
“It’s meant for plum-cake,” said Alice.
“We’d better take it with us,” the Knight said. “It’ll come in handy if
we find any plum-cake. Help me to get it into this bag.”
This took a very long time to manage, though Alice held the bag open
very carefully, because the Knight was so _very_ awkward in putting in
the dish: the first two or three times that he tried he fell in himself
instead. “It’s rather a tight fit, you see,” he said, as they got it in
a last; “There are so many candlesticks in the bag.” And he hung it to
the saddle, which was already loaded with bunches of carrots, and
fire-irons, and many other things.
“I hope you’ve got your hair well fastened on?” he continued, as they
set off.
“Only in the usual way,” Alice said, smiling.
“That’s hardly enough,” he said, anxiously. “You see the wind is so
_very_ strong here. It’s as strong as soup.”
“Have you invented a plan for keeping the hair from being blown off?”
Alice enquired.
“Not yet,” said the Knight. “But I’ve got a plan for keeping it from
_falling_ off.”
“I should like to hear it, very much.”
“First you take an upright stick,” said the Knight. “Then you make your
hair creep up it, like a fruit-tree. Now the reason hair falls off is
because it hangs _down_—things never fall _upwards_, you know. It’s a
plan of my own invention. You may try it if you like.”
It didn’t sound a comfortable plan, Alice thought, and for a few
minutes she walked on in silence, puzzling over the idea, and every now
and then stopping to help the poor Knight, who certainly was _not_ a
good rider.
Whenever the horse stopped (which it did very often), he fell off in
front; and whenever it went on again (which it generally did rather
suddenly), he fell off behind. Otherwise he kept on pretty well, except
that he had a habit of now and then falling off sideways; and as he
generally did this on the side on which Alice was walking, she soon
found that it was the best plan not to walk _quite_ close to the horse.
“I’m afraid you’ve not had much practice in riding,” she ventured to
say, as she was helping him up from his fifth tumble.
The Knight looked very much surprised, and a little offended at the
remark. “What makes you say that?” he asked, as he scrambled back into
the saddle, keeping hold of Alice’s hair with one hand, to save himself
from falling over on the other side.
“Because people don’t fall off quite so often, when they’ve had much
practice.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice,” the Knight said very gravely: “plenty of
practice!”
Alice could think of nothing better to say than “Indeed?” but she said
it as heartily as she could. They went on a little way in silence after
this, the Knight with his eyes shut, muttering to himself, and Alice
watching anxiously for the next tumble.
“The great art of riding,” the Knight suddenly began in a loud voice,
waving his right arm as he spoke, “is to keep—” Here the sentence ended
as suddenly as it had begun, as the Knight fell heavily on the top of
his head exactly in the path where Alice was walking. She was quite
frightened this time, and said in an anxious tone, as she picked him
up, “I hope no bones are broken?”
“None to speak of,” the Knight said, as if he didn’t mind breaking two
or three of them. “The great art of riding, as I was saying, is—to keep
your balance properly. Like this, you know—”
He let go the bridle, and stretched out both his arms to show Alice
what he meant, and this time he fell flat on his back, right under the
horse’s feet.
“Plenty of practice!” he went on repeating, all the time that Alice was
getting him on his feet again. “Plenty of practice!”
“It’s too ridiculous!” cried Alice, losing all her patience this time.
“You ought to have a wooden horse on wheels, that you ought!”
“Does that kind go smoothly?” the Knight asked in a tone of great
interest, clasping his arms round the horse’s neck as he spoke, just in
time to save himself from tumbling off again.
“Much more smoothly than a live horse,” Alice said, with a little
scream of laughter, in spite of all she could do to prevent it.
“I’ll get one,” the Knight said thoughtfully to himself. “One or
two—several.”
There was a short silence after this, and then the Knight went on
again. “I’m a great hand at inventing things. Now, I daresay you
noticed, that last time you picked me up, that I was looking rather
thoughtful?”
“You _were_ a little grave,” said Alice.
“Well, just then I was inventing a new way of getting over a gate—would
you like to hear it?”
“Very much indeed,” Alice said politely.
“I’ll tell you how I came to think of it,” said the Knight. “You see, I
said to myself, ‘The only difficulty is with the feet: the _head_ is
high enough already.’ Now, first I put my head on the top of the
gate—then I stand on my head—then the feet are high enough, you
see—then I’m over, you see.”
“Yes, I suppose you’d be over when that was done,” Alice said
thoughtfully: “but don’t you think it would be rather hard?”
“I haven’t tried it yet,” the Knight said, gravely: “so I can’t tell
for certain—but I’m afraid it _would_ be a little hard.”
He looked so vexed at the idea, that Alice changed the subject hastily.
“What a curious helmet you’ve got!” she said cheerfully. “Is that your
invention too?”
The Knight looked down proudly at his helmet, which hung from the
saddle. “Yes,” he said, “but I’ve invented a better one than that—like
a sugar loaf. When I used to wear it, if I fell off the horse, it
always touched the ground directly. So I had a _very_ little way to
fall, you see—But there _was_ the danger of falling _into_ it, to be
sure. That happened to me once—and the worst of it was, before I could
get out again, the other White Knight came and put it on. He thought it
was his own helmet.”
The knight looked so solemn about it that Alice did not dare to laugh.
“I’m afraid you must have hurt him,” she said in a trembling voice,
“being on the top of his head.”
“I had to kick him, of course,” the Knight said, very seriously. “And
then he took the helmet off again—but it took hours and hours to get me
out. I was as fast as—as lightning, you know.”
“But that’s a different kind of fastness,” Alice objected.
The Knight shook his head. “It was all kinds of fastness with me, I can
assure you!” he said. He raised his hands in some excitement as he said
this, and instantly rolled out of the saddle, and fell headlong into a
deep ditch.
Alice ran to the side of the ditch to look for him. She was rather
startled by the fall, as for some time he had kept on very well, and
she was afraid that he really _was_ hurt this time. However, though she
could see nothing but the soles of his feet, she was much relieved to
hear that he was talking on in his usual tone. “All kinds of fastness,”
he repeated: “but it was careless of him to put another man’s helmet
on—with the man in it, too.”
“How _can_ you go on talking so quietly, head downwards?” Alice asked,
as she dragged him out by the feet, and laid him in a heap on the bank.
The Knight looked surprised at the question. “What does it matter where
my body happens to be?” he said. “My mind goes on working all the same.
In fact, the more head downwards I am, the more I keep inventing new
things.”
“Now the cleverest thing of the sort that I ever did,” he went on after
a pause, “was inventing a new pudding during the meat-course.”
“In time to have it cooked for the next course?” said Alice.
“Well, not the _next_ course,” the Knight said in a slow thoughtful
tone: “no, certainly not the next _course_.”
“Then it would have to be the next day. I suppose you wouldn’t have two
pudding-courses in one dinner?”
“Well, not the _next_ day,” the Knight repeated as before: “not the
next _day_. In fact,” he went on, holding his head down, and his voice
getting lower and lower, “I don’t believe that pudding ever _was_
cooked! In fact, I don’t believe that pudding ever _will_ be cooked!
And yet it was a very clever pudding to invent.”
“What did you mean it to be made of?” Alice asked, hoping to cheer him
up, for the poor Knight seemed quite low-spirited about it.
“It began with blotting paper,” the Knight answered with a groan.
“That wouldn’t be very nice, I’m afraid—”
“Not very nice _alone_,” he interrupted, quite eagerly: “but you’ve no
idea what a difference it makes mixing it with other things—such as
gunpowder and sealing-wax. And here I must leave you.” They had just
come to the end of the wood.
Alice could only look puzzled: she was thinking of the pudding.
“You are sad,” the Knight said in an anxious tone: “let me sing you a
song to comfort you.”
“Is it very long?” Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry
that day.
“It’s long,” said the Knight, “but very, _very_ beautiful. Everybody
that hears me sing it—either it brings the _tears_ into their eyes, or
else—”
“Or else what?” said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.
“Or else it doesn’t, you know. The name of the song is called
‘_Haddocks’ Eyes_.’”
“Oh, that’s the name of the song, is it?” Alice said, trying to feel
interested.
“No, you don’t understand,” the Knight said, looking a little vexed.
“That’s what the name is _called_. The name really _is_ ‘_The Aged Aged
Man_.’”
“Then I ought to have said ‘That’s what the _song_ is called’?” Alice
corrected herself.
“No, you oughtn’t: that’s quite another thing! The _song_ is called
‘_Ways and Means_’: but that’s only what it’s _called_, you know!”
“Well, what _is_ the song, then?” said Alice, who was by this time
completely bewildered.
“I was coming to that,” the Knight said. “The song really _is_
‘_A-sitting On A Gate_’: and the tune’s my own invention.”
So saying, he stopped his horse and let the reins fall on its neck:
then, slowly beating time with one hand, and with a faint smile
lighting up his gentle foolish face, as if he enjoyed the music of his
song, he began.
Of all the strange things that Alice saw in her journey Through The
Looking-Glass, this was the one that she always remembered most
clearly. Years afterwards she could bring the whole scene back again,
as if it had been only yesterday—the mild blue eyes and kindly smile of
the Knight—the setting sun gleaming through his hair, and shining on
his armour in a blaze of light that quite dazzled her—the horse quietly
moving about, with the reins hanging loose on his neck, cropping the
grass at her feet—and the black shadows of the forest behind—all this
she took in like a picture, as, with one hand shading her eyes, she
leant against a tree, watching the strange pair, and listening, in a
half dream, to the melancholy music of the song.
“But the tune _isn’t_ his own invention,” she said to herself: “it’s
‘_I give thee all, I can no more_.’” She stood and listened very
attentively, but no tears came into her eyes.
“I’ll tell thee everything I can;
There’s little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
‘Who are you, aged man?’ I said,
‘and how is it you live?’
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.
He said ‘I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,’ he said,
‘Who sail on stormy seas;
And that’s the way I get my bread—
A trifle, if you please.’
But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one’s whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, ‘Come, tell me how you live!’
And thumped him on the head.
His accents mild took up the tale:
He said ‘I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rolands’ Macassar Oil—
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.’
But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue:
‘Come, tell me how you live,’ I cried,
‘And what it is you do!’
He said ‘I hunt for haddocks’ eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.
‘I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of Hansom-cabs.
And that’s the way’ (he gave a wink)
‘By which I get my wealth—
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour’s noble health.’
I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.
And now, if e’er by chance I put
My fingers into glue
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so,
Of that old man I used to know—
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo—
That summer evening, long ago,
A-sitting on a gate.”
As the Knight sang the last words of the ballad, he gathered up the
reins, and turned his horse’s head along the road by which they had
come. “You’ve only a few yards to go,” he said, “down the hill and over
that little brook, and then you’ll be a Queen—But you’ll stay and see
me off first?” he added as Alice turned with an eager look in the
direction to which he pointed. “I shan’t be long. You’ll wait and wave
your handkerchief when I get to that turn in the road? I think it’ll
encourage me, you see.”
“Of course I’ll wait,” said Alice: “and thank you very much for coming
so far—and for the song—I liked it very much.”
“I hope so,” the Knight said doubtfully: “but you didn’t cry so much as
I thought you would.”
So they shook hands, and then the Knight rode slowly away into the
forest. “It won’t take long to see him _off_, I expect,” Alice said to
herself, as she stood watching him. “There he goes! Right on his head
as usual! However, he gets on again pretty easily—that comes of having
so many things hung round the horse—” So she went on talking to
herself, as she watched the horse walking leisurely along the road, and
the Knight tumbling off, first on one side and then on the other. After
the fourth or fifth tumble he reached the turn, and then she waved her
handkerchief to him, and waited till he was out of sight.
“I hope it encouraged him,” she said, as she turned to run down the
hill: “and now for the last brook, and to be a Queen! How grand it
sounds!” A very few steps brought her to the edge of the brook. “The
Eighth Square at last!” she cried as she bounded across,
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
and threw herself down to rest on a lawn as soft as moss, with little
flower-beds dotted about it here and there. “Oh, how glad I am to get
here! And what _is_ this on my head?” she exclaimed in a tone of
dismay, as she put her hands up to something very heavy, and fitted
tight all round her head.
“But how _can_ it have got there without my knowing it?” she said to
herself, as she lifted it off, and set it on her lap to make out what
it could possibly be.
It was a golden crown.
CHAPTER IX.
Queen Alice
“Well, this _is_ grand!” said Alice. “I never expected I should be a
Queen so soon—and I’ll tell you what it is, your majesty,” she went on
in a severe tone (she was always rather fond of scolding herself),
“it’ll never do for you to be lolling about on the grass like that!
Queens have to be dignified, you know!”
So she got up and walked about—rather stiffly just at first, as she was
afraid that the crown might come off: but she comforted herself with
the thought that there was nobody to see her, “and if I really am a
Queen,” she said as she sat down again, “I shall be able to manage it
quite well in time.”
Everything was happening so oddly that she didn’t feel a bit surprised
at finding the Red Queen and the White Queen sitting close to her, one
on each side: she would have liked very much to ask them how they came
there, but she feared it would not be quite civil. However, there would
be no harm, she thought, in asking if the game was over. “Please, would
you tell me—” she began, looking timidly at the Red Queen.
“Speak when you’re spoken to!” The Queen sharply interrupted her.
“But if everybody obeyed that rule,” said Alice, who was always ready
for a little argument, “and if you only spoke when you were spoken to,
and the other person always waited for _you_ to begin, you see nobody
would ever say anything, so that—”
“Ridiculous!” cried the Queen. “Why, don’t you see, child—” here she
broke off with a frown, and, after thinking for a minute, suddenly
changed the subject of the conversation. “What do you mean by ‘If you
really are a Queen’? What right have you to call yourself so? You can’t
be a Queen, you know, till you’ve passed the proper examination. And
the sooner we begin it, the better.”
“I only said ‘if’!” poor Alice pleaded in a piteous tone.
The two Queens looked at each other, and the Red Queen remarked, with a
little shudder, “She _says_ she only said ‘if’—”
“But she said a great deal more than that!” the White Queen moaned,
wringing her hands. “Oh, ever so much more than that!”
“So you did, you know,” the Red Queen said to Alice. “Always speak the
truth—think before you speak—and write it down afterwards.”
“I’m sure I didn’t mean—” Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen
interrupted her impatiently.
“That’s just what I complain of! You _should_ have meant! What do you
suppose is the use of child without any meaning? Even a joke should
have some meaning—and a child’s more important than a joke, I hope. You
couldn’t deny that, even if you tried with both hands.”
“I don’t deny things with my _hands_,” Alice objected.
“Nobody said you did,” said the Red Queen. “I said you couldn’t if you
tried.”
“She’s in that state of mind,” said the White Queen, “that she wants to
deny _something_—only she doesn’t know what to deny!”
“A nasty, vicious temper,” the Red Queen remarked; and then there was
an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two.
The Red Queen broke the silence by saying to the White Queen, “I invite
you to Alice’s dinner-party this afternoon.”
The White Queen smiled feebly, and said “And I invite _you_.”
“I didn’t know I was to have a party at all,” said Alice; “but if there
is to be one, I think _I_ ought to invite the guests.”
“We gave you the opportunity of doing it,” the Red Queen remarked: “but
I daresay you’ve not had many lessons in manners yet?”
“Manners are not taught in lessons,” said Alice. “Lessons teach you to
do sums, and things of that sort.”
“And you do Addition?” the White Queen asked. “What’s one and one and
one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?”
“I don’t know,” said Alice. “I lost count.”
“She can’t do Addition,” the Red Queen interrupted. “Can you do
Subtraction? Take nine from eight.”
“Nine from eight I can’t, you know,” Alice replied very readily: “but—”
“She can’t do Subtraction,” said the White Queen. “Can you do Division?
Divide a loaf by a knife—what’s the answer to that?”
“I suppose—” Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen answered for her.
“Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone
from a dog: what remains?”
Alice considered. “The bone wouldn’t remain, of course, if I took
it—and the dog wouldn’t remain; it would come to bite me—and I’m sure
_I_ shouldn’t remain!”
“Then you think nothing would remain?” said the Red Queen.
“I think that’s the answer.”
“Wrong, as usual,” said the Red Queen: “the dog’s temper would remain.”
“But I don’t see how—”
“Why, look here!” the Red Queen cried. “The dog would lose its temper,
wouldn’t it?”
“Perhaps it would,” Alice replied cautiously.
“Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!” the Queen
exclaimed triumphantly.
Alice said, as gravely as she could, “They might go different ways.”
But she couldn’t help thinking to herself, “What dreadful nonsense we
_are_ talking!”
“She can’t do sums a _bit_!” the Queens said together, with great
emphasis.
“Can _you_ do sums?” Alice said, turning suddenly on the White Queen,
for she didn’t like being found fault with so much.
The Queen gasped and shut her eyes. “I can do Addition, if you give me
time—but I can’t do Subtraction, under _any_ circumstances!”
“Of course you know your A B C?” said the Red Queen.
“To be sure I do.” said Alice.
“So do I,” the White Queen whispered: “we’ll often say it over
together, dear. And I’ll tell you a secret—I can read words of one
letter! Isn’t _that_ grand! However, don’t be discouraged. You’ll come
to it in time.”
Here the Red Queen began again. “Can you answer useful questions?” she
said. “How is bread made?”
“I know _that_!” Alice cried eagerly. “You take some flour—”
“Where do you pick the flower?” the White Queen asked. “In a garden, or
in the hedges?”
“Well, it isn’t _picked_ at all,” Alice explained: “it’s _ground_—”
“How many acres of ground?” said the White Queen. “You mustn’t leave
out so many things.”
“Fan her head!” the Red Queen anxiously interrupted. “She’ll be
feverish after so much thinking.” So they set to work and fanned her
with bunches of leaves, till she had to beg them to leave off, it blew
her hair about so.
“She’s all right again now,” said the Red Queen. “Do you know
Languages? What’s the French for fiddle-de-dee?”
“Fiddle-de-dee’s not English,” Alice replied gravely.
“Who ever said it was?” said the Red Queen.
Alice thought she saw a way out of the difficulty this time. “If you’ll
tell me what language ‘fiddle-de-dee’ is, I’ll tell you the French for
it!” she exclaimed triumphantly.
But the Red Queen drew herself up rather stiffly, and said “Queens
never make bargains.”
“I wish Queens never asked questions,” Alice thought to herself.
“Don’t let us quarrel,” the White Queen said in an anxious tone. “What
is the cause of lightning?”
“The cause of lightning,” Alice said very decidedly, for she felt quite
certain about this, “is the thunder—no, no!” she hastily corrected
herself. “I meant the other way.”
“It’s too late to correct it,” said the Red Queen: “when you’ve once
said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences.”
“Which reminds me—” the White Queen said, looking down and nervously
clasping and unclasping her hands, “we had _such_ a thunderstorm last
Tuesday—I mean one of the last set of Tuesdays, you know.”
Alice was puzzled. “In _our_ country,” she remarked, “there’s only one
day at a time.”
The Red Queen said, “That’s a poor thin way of doing things. Now
_here_, we mostly have days and nights two or three at a time, and
sometimes in the winter we take as many as five nights together—for
warmth, you know.”
“Are five nights warmer than one night, then?” Alice ventured to ask.
“Five times as warm, of course.”
“But they should be five times as _cold_, by the same rule—”
“Just so!” cried the Red Queen. “Five times as warm, _and_ five times
as cold—just as I’m five times as rich as you are, _and_ five times as
clever!”
Alice sighed and gave it up. “It’s exactly like a riddle with no
answer!” she thought.
“Humpty Dumpty saw it too,” the White Queen went on in a low voice,
more as if she were talking to herself. “He came to the door with a
corkscrew in his hand—”
“What did he want?” said the Red Queen.
“He said he _would_ come in,” the White Queen went on, “because he was
looking for a hippopotamus. Now, as it happened, there wasn’t such a
thing in the house, that morning.”
“Is there generally?” Alice asked in an astonished tone.
“Well, only on Thursdays,” said the Queen.
“I know what he came for,” said Alice: “he wanted to punish the fish,
because—”
Here the White Queen began again. “It was _such_ a thunderstorm, you
can’t think!” (“She _never_ could, you know,” said the Red Queen.) “And
part of the roof came off, and ever so much thunder got in—and it went
rolling round the room in great lumps—and knocking over the tables and
things—till I was so frightened, I couldn’t remember my own name!”
Alice thought to herself, “I never should _try_ to remember my name in
the middle of an accident! Where would be the use of it?” but she did
not say this aloud, for fear of hurting the poor Queen’s feeling.
“Your Majesty must excuse her,” the Red Queen said to Alice, taking one
of the White Queen’s hands in her own, and gently stroking it: “she
means well, but she can’t help saying foolish things, as a general
rule.”
The White Queen looked timidly at Alice, who felt she _ought_ to say
something kind, but really couldn’t think of anything at the moment.
“She never was really well brought up,” the Red Queen went on: “but
it’s amazing how good-tempered she is! Pat her on the head, and see how
pleased she’ll be!” But this was more than Alice had courage to do.
“A little kindness—and putting her hair in papers—would do wonders with
her—”
The White Queen gave a deep sigh, and laid her head on Alice’s
shoulder. “I _am_ so sleepy!” she moaned.
“She’s tired, poor thing!” said the Red Queen. “Smooth her hair—lend
her your nightcap—and sing her a soothing lullaby.”
“I haven’t got a nightcap with me,” said Alice, as she tried to obey
the first direction: “and I don’t know any soothing lullabies.”
“I must do it myself, then,” said the Red Queen, and she began:
“Hush-a-by lady, in Alice’s lap!
Till the feast’s ready, we’ve time for a nap:
When the feast’s over, we’ll go to the ball—
Red Queen, and White Queen, and Alice, and all!
“And now you know the words,” she added, as she put her head down on
Alice’s other shoulder, “just sing it through to _me_. I’m getting
sleepy, too.” In another moment both Queens were fast asleep, and
snoring loud.
“What _am_ I to do?” exclaimed Alice, looking about in great
perplexity, as first one round head, and then the other, rolled down
from her shoulder, and lay like a heavy lump in her lap. “I don’t think
it _ever_ happened before, that any one had to take care of two Queens
asleep at once! No, not in all the History of England—it couldn’t, you
know, because there never was more than one Queen at a time. Do wake
up, you heavy things!” she went on in an impatient tone; but there was
no answer but a gentle snoring.
The snoring got more distinct every minute, and sounded more like a
tune: at last she could even make out the words, and she listened so
eagerly that, when the two great heads vanished from her lap, she
hardly missed them.
She was standing before an arched doorway over which were the words
QUEEN ALICE in large letters, and on each side of the arch there was a
bell-handle; one was marked “Visitors’ Bell,” and the other “Servants’
Bell.”
“I’ll wait till the song’s over,” thought Alice, “and then I’ll
ring—the—_which_ bell must I ring?” she went on, very much puzzled by
the names. “I’m not a visitor, and I’m not a servant. There _ought_ to
be one marked ‘Queen,’ you know—”
Just then the door opened a little way, and a creature with a long beak
put its head out for a moment and said “No admittance till the week
after next!” and shut the door again with a bang.
Alice knocked and rang in vain for a long time, but at last, a very old
Frog, who was sitting under a tree, got up and hobbled slowly towards
her: he was dressed in bright yellow, and had enormous boots on.
“What is it, now?” the Frog said in a deep hoarse whisper.
Alice turned round, ready to find fault with anybody. “Where’s the
servant whose business it is to answer the door?” she began angrily.
“Which door?” said the Frog.
Alice almost stamped with irritation at the slow drawl in which he
spoke. “_This_ door, of course!”
The Frog looked at the door with his large dull eyes for a minute: then
he went nearer and rubbed it with his thumb, as if he were trying
whether the paint would come off; then he looked at Alice.
“To answer the door?” he said. “What’s it been asking of?” He was so
hoarse that Alice could scarcely hear him.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“I talks English, doesn’t I?” the Frog went on. “Or are you deaf? What
did it ask you?”
“Nothing!” Alice said impatiently. “I’ve been knocking at it!”
“Shouldn’t do that—shouldn’t do that—” the Frog muttered. “Vexes it,
you know.” Then he went up and gave the door a kick with one of his
great feet. “You let _it_ alone,” he panted out, as he hobbled back to
his tree, “and it’ll let _you_ alone, you know.”
At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard
singing:
“To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said,
‘I’ve a sceptre in hand, I’ve a crown on my head;
Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be,
Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me.’”
And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus:
“Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,
And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:
Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea—
And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!”
Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to
herself, “Thirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any one’s
counting?” In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill
voice sang another verse;
“‘O Looking-Glass creatures,’ quoth Alice, ‘draw near!
’Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:
’Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea
Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!’”
Then came the chorus again:—
“Then fill up the glasses with treacle and ink,
Or anything else that is pleasant to drink:
Mix sand with the cider, and wool with the wine—
And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine!”
“Ninety times nine!” Alice repeated in despair, “Oh, that’ll never be
done! I’d better go in at once—” and there was a dead silence the
moment she appeared.
Alice glanced nervously along the table, as she walked up the large
hall, and noticed that there were about fifty guests, of all kinds:
some were animals, some birds, and there were even a few flowers among
them. “I’m glad they’ve come without waiting to be asked,” she thought:
“I should never have known who were the right people to invite!”
There were three chairs at the head of the table; the Red and White
Queens had already taken two of them, but the middle one was empty.
Alice sat down in it, rather uncomfortable in the silence, and longing
for some one to speak.
At last the Red Queen began. “You’ve missed the soup and fish,” she
said. “Put on the joint!” And the waiters set a leg of mutton before
Alice, who looked at it rather anxiously, as she had never had to carve
a joint before.
“You look a little shy; let me introduce you to that leg of mutton,”
said the Red Queen. “Alice—Mutton; Mutton—Alice.” The leg of mutton got
up in the dish and made a little bow to Alice; and Alice returned the
bow, not knowing whether to be frightened or amused.
“May I give you a slice?” she said, taking up the knife and fork, and
looking from one Queen to the other.
“Certainly not,” the Red Queen said, very decidedly: “it isn’t
etiquette to cut any one you’ve been introduced to. Remove the joint!”
And the waiters carried it off, and brought a large plum-pudding in its
place.
“I won’t be introduced to the pudding, please,” Alice said rather
hastily, “or we shall get no dinner at all. May I give you some?”
But the Red Queen looked sulky, and growled “Pudding—Alice;
Alice—Pudding. Remove the pudding!” and the waiters took it away so
quickly that Alice couldn’t return its bow.
However, she didn’t see why the Red Queen should be the only one to
give orders, so, as an experiment, she called out “Waiter! Bring back
the pudding!” and there it was again in a moment like a
conjuring-trick. It was so large that she couldn’t help feeling a
_little_ shy with it, as she had been with the mutton; however, she
conquered her shyness by a great effort and cut a slice and handed it
to the Red Queen.
“What impertinence!” said the Pudding. “I wonder how you’d like it, if
I were to cut a slice out of _you_, you creature!”
It spoke in a thick, suety sort of voice, and Alice hadn’t a word to
say in reply: she could only sit and look at it and gasp.
“Make a remark,” said the Red Queen: “it’s ridiculous to leave all the
conversation to the pudding!”
“Do you know, I’ve had such a quantity of poetry repeated to me
to-day,” Alice began, a little frightened at finding that, the moment
she opened her lips, there was dead silence, and all eyes were fixed
upon her; “and it’s a very curious thing, I think—every poem was about
fishes in some way. Do you know why they’re so fond of fishes, all
about here?”
She spoke to the Red Queen, whose answer was a little wide of the mark.
“As to fishes,” she said, very slowly and solemnly, putting her mouth
close to Alice’s ear, “her White Majesty knows a lovely riddle—all in
poetry—all about fishes. Shall she repeat it?”
“Her Red Majesty’s very kind to mention it,” the White Queen murmured
into Alice’s other ear, in a voice like the cooing of a pigeon. “It
would be _such_ a treat! May I?”
“Please do,” Alice said very politely.
The White Queen laughed with delight, and stroked Alice’s cheek. Then
she began:
“‘First, the fish must be caught.’
That is easy: a baby, I think, could have caught it.
‘Next, the fish must be bought.’
That is easy: a penny, I think, would have bought it.
‘Now cook me the fish!’
That is easy, and will not take more than a minute.
‘Let it lie in a dish!’
That is easy, because it already is in it.
‘Bring it here! Let me sup!’
It is easy to set such a dish on the table.
‘Take the dish-cover up!’
Ah, that is so hard that I fear I’m unable!
For it holds it like glue—
Holds the lid to the dish, while it lies in the middle:
Which is easiest to do,
Un-dish-cover the fish, or dishcover the riddle?”
“Take a minute to think about it, and then guess,” said the Red Queen.
“Meanwhile, we’ll drink your health—Queen Alice’s health!” she screamed
at the top of her voice, and all the guests began drinking it directly,
and very queerly they managed it: some of them put their glasses upon
their heads like extinguishers, and drank all that trickled down their
faces—others upset the decanters, and drank the wine as it ran off the
edges of the table—and three of them (who looked like kangaroos)
scrambled into the dish of roast mutton, and began eagerly lapping up
the gravy, “just like pigs in a trough!” thought Alice.
“You ought to return thanks in a neat speech,” the Red Queen said,
frowning at Alice as she spoke.
“We must support you, you know,” the White Queen whispered, as Alice
got up to do it, very obediently, but a little frightened.
“Thank you very much,” she whispered in reply, “but I can do quite well
without.”
“That wouldn’t be at all the thing,” the Red Queen said very decidedly:
so Alice tried to submit to it with a good grace.
(“And they _did_ push so!” she said afterwards, when she was telling
her sister the history of the feast. “You would have thought they
wanted to squeeze me flat!”)
In fact it was rather difficult for her to keep in her place while she
made her speech: the two Queens pushed her so, one on each side, that
they nearly lifted her up into the air: “I rise to return thanks—”
Alice began: and she really _did_ rise as she spoke, several inches;
but she got hold of the edge of the table, and managed to pull herself
down again.
“Take care of yourself!” screamed the White Queen, seizing Alice’s hair
with both her hands. “Something’s going to happen!”
And then (as Alice afterwards described it) all sorts of things
happened in a moment. The candles all grew up to the ceiling, looking
something like a bed of rushes with fireworks at the top. As to the
bottles, they each took a pair of plates, which they hastily fitted on
as wings, and so, with forks for legs, went fluttering about in all
directions: “and very like birds they look,” Alice thought to herself,
as well as she could in the dreadful confusion that was beginning.
At this moment she heard a hoarse laugh at her side, and turned to see
what was the matter with the White Queen; but, instead of the Queen,
there was the leg of mutton sitting in the chair. “Here I am!” cried a
voice from the soup tureen, and Alice turned again, just in time to see
the Queen’s broad good-natured face grinning at her for a moment over
the edge of the tureen, before she disappeared into the soup.
There was not a moment to be lost. Already several of the guests were
lying down in the dishes, and the soup ladle was walking up the table
towards Alice’s chair, and beckoning to her impatiently to get out of
its way.
“I can’t stand this any longer!” she cried as she jumped up and seized
the table-cloth 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 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 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 in 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, 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?
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?
THE END
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
Three hundred Aesop’s fables
THREE HUNDRED
ÆSOP’S FABLES
LITERALLY TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK
By the
Rev. George Fyler Townsend, M.A.
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE
NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET
CONTENTS
PREFACE
LIFE OF AESOP
AESOP’S FABLES
The Lion And The Mouse
The Wolf And The Lamb
The Ass And The Grasshopper
The Wolf and the Crane
The Father And His Sons
The Bat And The Weasels
The Cock and the Jewel
The Swallow and the Crow
The Kingdom of the Lion
The Traveler and His Dog
The Ants and the Grasshopper
The Hare and the Tortoise
The Charcoal-Burner And The Fuller
The Boy Hunting Locusts
The Fisherman Piping
The Dog and the Shadow
Hercules and the Wagoner
The Mole and His Mother
The Herdsman and the Lost Bull
The Fawn and His Mother
The Ass, the Fox, and the Lion
The Flies and the Honey-Pot
The Lioness
The Farmer and the Snake
The Man and the Lion
The Pomegranate, Apple-Tree, and Bramble
The Farmer and the Stork
The Mountain in Labor
The Bear and the Fox
The Tortoise and the Eagle
The Fox and the Goat
The Raven and the Swan
The Thirsty Pigeon
The Dog in the Manger
The Oxen and the Axle-Trees
The Farmer and the Cranes
The Sick Lion
The Bear and the Two Travelers
The Fox Who Had Lost His Tail
The Cat and the Cock
The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
The Goat and the Goatherd
The Boasting Traveler
The Lion in Love
The Miser
The Porker, the Sheep, and the Goat
The Boy and the Filberts
The Frogs Asking for a King
The Laborer and the Snake
The Lion, the Mouse, and the Fox
The Horse and Groom
The Ass and the Mule
The Ass and the Lapdog
The Oxen and the Butchers
The Shepherd’s Boy and the Wolf
The Boys and the Frogs
The Salt Merchant and His Ass
The Mischievous Dog
The Goatherd and the Wild Goats
The Man and His Two Sweethearts
The Sick Stag
The Boy and the Nettles
The Astronomer
The Wolves and the Sheep
The Cat and the Birds
The Vain Jackdaw
The Kid and the Wolf
The Old Woman and the Physician
The Ox and the Frog
The Farmer and His Sons
The Heifer and the Ox
The Fighting Cocks and the Eagle
The Charger and the Miller
The Fox and the Monkey
The Horse and His Rider
The Belly and the Members
The Widow and Her Little Maidens
The Vine and the Goat
Jupiter and the Monkey
The Hawk, the Kite, and the Pigeons
The Dolphins, the Whales, and the Sprat
The Swallow, the Serpent, and the Court of Justice
The Two Pots
The Shepherd and the Wolf
The Crab and Its Mother
The Father and His Two Daughters
The Thief and His Mother
The Old Man and Death
The Fir-Tree and the Bramble
The Æthiop
The Mouse, the Frog, and the Hawk
The Fisherman and His Nets
The Wolf and the Sheep
The Old Woman and the Wine-Jar
The Man Bitten by a Dog
The Huntsman and the Fisherman
The Fox and the Crow
The Widow and the Sheep
The Playful Ass
The Stag in the Ox-Stall
The Two Dogs
The Wild Ass and the Lion
The Lion and the Dolphin
The Eagle and the Arrow
The Sick Kite
The Lion and the Boar
The Mice in Council
The One-Eyed Doe
The Mice and the Weasels
The Shepherd and the Sea
The Ass, the Cock, and the Lion
The Rivers and the Sea
The Wild Boar and the Fox
The Milk-Woman and Her Pail
The Bee and Jupiter
The Wolf and the Housedog
The Three Tradesmen
The Ass Carrying the Image
The Master and His Dogs
The Old Hound
The Two Travelers and the Axe
The Old Lion
The Wolf and the Shepherds
The Seaside Travelers
The Ass and His Shadow
The Ass and His Masters
Mercury and the Sculptor
The Fox and the Woodcutter
The Oak and the Reeds
The Lion in a Farmyard
The Wolf and the Lion
The Birdcatcher, the Partridge, and the Cock
The Ant and the Dove
The Hares and the Frogs
The Monkey and the Fishermen
The Swan and the Goose
The Doe and the Lion
The Fisherman and the Little Fish
The Hunter and the Woodman
The Swollen Fox
The Two Frogs
The Lamp
The Camel and the Arab
The Miller, His Son, and Their Ass
The Cat and the Mice
The Mouse and the Bull
The Dog and the Cook
The Thieves and the Cock
The Dancing Monkeys
The Farmer and the Fox
The Traveler and Fortune
The Seagull and the Kite
The Lion, the Bear, and the Fox
The Philosopher, the Ants, and Mercury
The Peasant and the Eagle
The Fox and the Leopard
The Lion and the Hare
The Image of Mercury and the Carpenter
The Lion, the Fox, and the Ass
The Bull and the Goat
The Bald Knight
The Oaks and Jupiter
The Monkeys and Their Mother
The Hare and the Hound
The Shepherd and the Dog
The Oak and the Woodcutters
The Wasp and the Snake
The Peacock and the Crane
The Hen and the Golden Eggs
The Ass and the Frogs
The Crow and the Raven
The Trees and the Axe
The Wolves and the Sheepdogs
The Bull, the Lioness, and the Wild-Boar Hunter
The Bowman and Lion
The Camel
The Crab and the Fox
The Ass and the Old Shepherd
The Fox and the Hedgehog
The Woman and Her Hen
The Kites and the Swans
The Dog and the Hare
The Hares and the Foxes
The Bull and the Calf
The Stag, the Wolf, and the Sheep
The Eagle, the Cat, and the Wild Sow
The Wolf and the Fox
The Mule
The Prophet
The Two Frogs
The Serpent and the Eagle
The Crow and the Pitcher
The Thief and the Innkeeper
The Hart and the Vine
The Gnat and the Lion
The Fox and the Grapes
The Walnut-Tree
The Kid and the Wolf
The Monkey and the Dolphin
The Horse and the Stag
The Jackdaw and the Doves
The Fox and the Monkey
The Man and His Wife
The Man, the Horse, the Ox, and the Dog
The Thief and the Housedog
The Apes and the Two Travelers
The Fox and the Lion
The Weasel and the Mice
The Boy Bathing
The Peacock and Juno
The Wolf and the Shepherd
The Hares and the Lions
The Seller of Images
The Hawk and the Nightingale
The Lark and Her Young Ones
The Dog, the Cock, and the Fox
The Geese and the Cranes
The Ass and the Wolf
The Goat and the Ass
The Lion and the Bull
The Fox and the Mask
The Grasshopper and the Owl
The Fowler and the Viper
The Horse and the Ass
The Lion and the Three Bulls
The Wolf and the Goat
The Fly and the Draught-Mule
The Fishermen
The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse
The Wolf, the Fox, and the Ape
The Wasps, the Partridges, and the Farmer
The Brother and the Sister
The Dogs and the Fox
The Blind Man and the Whelp
The Cobbler Turned Doctor
The Wolf and the Horse
The Two Men Who Were Enemies
The Gamecocks and the Partridge
The Fox and the Lion
The Quack Frog
The Lion, the Wolf, and the Fox
The Dog’s House
The North Wind and the Sun
The Crow and Mercury
The Fox and the Crane
The Wolf and the Lion
The Birds, the Beasts, and the Bat
The Spendthrift and the Swallow
The Trumpeter Taken Prisoner
The Owl and the Birds
The Goods and the Ills
The Ass in the Lion’s Skin
The Sparrow and the Hare
The Flea and the Ox
The Ass and His Purchaser
The Dove and the Crow
The Man and the Satyr
Jupiter, Neptune, Minerva, and Momus
The Eagle and the Jackdaw
The Eagle and the Fox
The Two Bags
The Bitch and Her Whelps
The Stag at the Pool
The Lark Burying Her Father
The Gnat and the Bull
The Monkey and the Camel
The Dogs and the Hides
The Jackdaw and the Fox
Mercury and the Workmen
The Peasant and the Apple-Tree
The Two Soldiers and the Robber
The Shepherd and the Sheep
The Trees Under the Protection of the Gods
The Flea and the Wrestler
The Lion and the Fox
Truth and the Traveler
The Manslayer
The Lion and the Eagle
The Ass and His Driver
The Thrush and the Fowler
The Mother and the Wolf
The Hen and the Swallow
The Rose and the Amaranth
The Travelers and the Plane-Tree
The Ass and the Horse
The Crow and the Sheep
The Fox and the Bramble
The Ass and the Charger
The Lion, Jupiter, and the Elephant
The Dog and the Oyster
The Mules and the Robbers
The Lamb and the Wolf
The Partridge and the Fowler
The Flea and the Man
The Rich Man and the Tanner
The Viper and the File
The Lion and the Shepherd
The Camel and Jupiter
The Panther and the Shepherds
The Eagle and the Kite
The Eagle and His Captor
The King’s Son and the Painted Lion
The Cat and Venus
The Eagle and the Beetle
The She-Goats and Their Beards
The Bald Man and the Fly
The Shipwrecked Man and the Sea
The Buffoon and the Countryman
The Crow and the Serpent
The Hunter and the Horseman
The Olive-Tree and the Fig-Tree
The Frogs’ Complaint Against the Sun
The Brazier and His Dog
FOOTNOTES
INDEX
PREFACE
The Tale, the Parable, and the Fable are all common and popular modes
of conveying instruction. Each is distinguished by its own special
characteristics. The Tale consists simply in the narration of a story
either founded on facts, or created solely by the imagination, and not
necessarily associated with the teaching of any moral lesson. The
Parable is the designed use of language purposely intended to convey a
hidden and secret meaning other than that contained in the words
themselves; and which may or may not bear a special reference to the
hearer, or reader. The Fable partly agrees with, and partly differs
from both of these. It will contain, like the Tale, a short but real
narrative; it will seek, like the Parable, to convey a hidden meaning,
and that not so much by the use of language, as by the skilful
introduction of fictitious characters; and yet, unlike to either Tale
or Parable, it will ever keep in view, as its high prerogative, and
inseparable attribute, the great purpose of instruction, and will
necessarily seek to inculcate some moral maxim, social duty, or
political truth. The true Fable, if it rise to its high requirements,
ever aims at one great end and purpose—the representation of human
motive, and the improvement of human conduct, and yet it so conceals
its design under the disguise of fictitious characters, by clothing
with speech the animals of the field, the birds of the air, the trees
of the wood, or the beasts of the forest, that the reader shall receive
advice without perceiving the presence of the adviser. Thus the
superiority of the counsellor, which often renders counsel unpalatable,
is kept out of view, and the lesson comes with the greater acceptance
when the reader is led, unconsciously to himself, to have his
sympathies enlisted in behalf of what is pure, honourable, and
praiseworthy, and to have his indignation excited against what is low,
ignoble, and unworthy. The true fabulist, therefore, discharges a most
important function. He is neither a narrator, nor an allegorist. He is
a great teacher, a corrector of morals, a censor of vice, and a
commender of virtue. In this consists the superiority of the Fable over
the Tale or the Parable. The fabulist is to create a laugh, but yet,
under a merry guise, to convey instruction. Phædrus, the great imitator
of Æsop, plainly indicates this double purpose to be the true office of
the writer of fables.
Duplex libelli dos est: quod risum movet,
Et quod prudenti vitam consilio monet.
The continual observance of this twofold aim creates the charm, and
accounts for the universal favour, of the fables of Æsop. “The fable,”
says Professor K. O. Mueller, “originated in Greece in an intentional
travestie of human affairs. The ‘ainos,’ as its name denotes, is an
admonition, or rather a reproof, veiled, either from fear of an excess
of frankness, or from a love of fun and jest, beneath the fiction of an
occurrence happening among beasts; and wherever we have any ancient and
authentic account of the Æsopian fables, we find it to be the same.”[1]
The construction of a fable involves a minute attention to (1), the
narration itself; (2), the deduction of the moral; and (3), a careful
maintenance of the individual characteristics of the fictitious
personages introduced into it. The narration should relate to one
simple action, consistent with itself, and neither be overladen with a
multiplicity of details, nor distracted by a variety of circumstances.
The moral or lesson should be so plain, and so intimately interwoven
with, and so necessarily dependent on, the narration, that every reader
should be compelled to give to it the same undeniable interpretation.
The introduction of the animals or fictitious characters should be
marked with an unexceptionable care and attention to their natural
attributes, and to the qualities attributed to them by universal
popular consent. The Fox should be always cunning, the Hare timid, the
Lion bold, the Wolf cruel, the Bull strong, the Horse proud, and the
Ass patient. Many of these fables are characterized by the strictest
observance of these rules. They are occupied with one short narrative,
from which the moral naturally flows, and with which it is intimately
associated. “’Tis the simple manner,” says Dodsley,[2] “in which the
morals of Æsop are interwoven with his fables that distinguishes him,
and gives him the preference over all other mythologists. His ‘Mountain
delivered of a Mouse,’ produces the moral of his fable in ridicule of
pompous pretenders; and his Crow, when she drops her cheese, lets fall,
as it were by accident, the strongest admonition against the power of
flattery. There is no need of a separate sentence to explain it; no
possibility of impressing it deeper, by that load we too often see of
accumulated reflections.”[3] An equal amount of praise is due for the
consistency with which the characters of the animals, fictitiously
introduced, are marked. While they are made to depict the motives and
passions of men, they retain, in an eminent degree, their own special
features of craft or counsel, of cowardice or courage, of generosity or
rapacity.
These terms of praise, it must be confessed, cannot be bestowed on all
the fables in this collection. Many of them lack that unity of design,
that close connection of the moral with the narrative, that wise choice
in the introduction of the animals, which constitute the charm and
excellency of true Æsopian fable. This inferiority of some to others is
sufficiently accounted for in the history of the origin and descent of
these fables. The great bulk of them are not the immediate work of
Æsop. Many are obtained from ancient authors prior to the time in which
he lived. Thus, the fable of the “Hawk and the Nightingale” is related
by Hesiod;[4] the “Eagle wounded by an Arrow, winged with its own
feathers,” by Æschylus;[5] the “Fox avenging his wrongs on the Eagle,”
by Archilochus.[6] Many of them again are of later origin, and are to
be traced to the monks of the middle ages: and yet this collection,
though thus made up of fables both earlier and later than the era of
Æsop, rightfully bears his name, because he composed so large a number
(all framed in the same mould, and conformed to the same fashion, and
stamped with the same lineaments, image, and superscription) as to
secure to himself the right to be considered the father of Greek
fables, and the founder of this class of writing, which has ever since
borne his name, and has secured for him, through all succeeding ages,
the position of the first of moralists.[7]
The fables were in the first instance only narrated by Æsop, and for a
long time were handed down by the uncertain channel of oral tradition.
Socrates is mentioned by Plato[8] as having employed his time while in
prison, awaiting the return of the sacred ship from Delphos which was
to be the signal of his death, in turning some of these fables into
verse, but he thus versified only such as he remembered. Demetrius
Phalereus, a philosopher at Athens about 300 B.C., is said to have made
the first collection of these fables. Phædrus, a slave by birth or by
subsequent misfortunes, and admitted by Augustus to the honours of a
freedman, imitated many of these fables in Latin iambics about the
commencement of the Christian era. Aphthonius, a rhetorician of
Antioch, A.D. 315, wrote a treatise on, and converted into Latin prose,
some of these fables. This translation is the more worthy of notice, as
it illustrates a custom of common use, both in these and in later
times. The rhetoricians and philosophers were accustomed to give the
Fables of Æsop as an exercise to their scholars, not only inviting them
to discuss the moral of the tale, but also to practice and to perfect
themselves thereby in style and rules of grammar, by making for
themselves new and various versions of the fables. Ausonius,[9] the
friend of the Emperor Valentinian, and the latest poet of eminence in
the Western Empire, has handed down some of these fables in verse,
which Julianus Titianus, a contemporary writer of no great name,
translated into prose. Avienus, also a contemporary of Ausonius, put
some of these fables into Latin elegiacs, which are given by Nevelet
(in a book we shall refer to hereafter), and are occasionally
incorporated with the editions of Phædrus.
Seven centuries elapsed before the next notice is found of the Fables
of Æsop. During this long period these fables seem to have suffered an
eclipse, to have disappeared and to have been forgotten; and it is at
the commencement of the fourteenth century, when the Byzantine emperors
were the great patrons of learning, and amidst the splendors of an
Asiatic court, that we next find honours paid to the name and memory of
Æsop. Maximus Planudes, a learned monk of Constantinople, made a
collection of about a hundred and fifty of these fables. Little is
known of his history. Planudes, however, was no mere recluse, shut up
in his monastery. He took an active part in public affairs. In 1327
A.D. he was sent on a diplomatic mission to Venice by the Emperor
Andronicus the Elder. This brought him into immediate contact with the
Western Patriarch, whose interests he henceforth advocated with so much
zeal as to bring on him suspicion and persecution from the rulers of
the Eastern Church. Planudes has been exposed to a two-fold accusation.
He is charged on the one hand with having had before him a copy of
Babrias (to whom we shall have occasion to refer at greater length in
the end of this Preface), and to have had the bad taste “to transpose,”
or to turn his poetical version into prose: and he is asserted, on the
other hand, never to have seen the Fables of Æsop at all, but to have
himself invented and made the fables which he palmed off under the name
of the famous Greek fabulist. The truth lies between these two
extremes. Planudes may have invented some few fables, or have inserted
some that were current in his day; but there is an abundance of
unanswerable internal evidence to prove that he had an acquaintance
with the veritable fables of Æsop, although the versions he had access
to were probably corrupt, as contained in the various translations and
disquisitional exercises of the rhetoricians and philosophers. His
collection is interesting and important, not only as the parent source
or foundation of the earlier printed versions of Æsop, but as the
direct channel of attracting to these fables the attention of the
learned.
The eventual re-introduction, however, of these Fables of Æsop to their
high place in the general literature of Christendom, is to be looked
for in the West rather than in the East. The calamities gradually
thickening round the Eastern Empire, and the fall of Constantinople,
1453 A.D. combined with other events to promote the rapid restoration
of learning in Italy; and with that recovery of learning the revival of
an interest in the Fables of Æsop is closely identified. These fables,
indeed, were among the first writings of an earlier antiquity that
attracted attention. They took their place beside the Holy Scriptures
and the ancient classic authors, in the minds of the great students of
that day. Lorenzo Valla, one of the most famous promoters of Italian
learning, not only translated into Latin the Iliad of Homer and the
Histories of Herodotus and Thucydides, but also the Fables of Æsop.
These fables, again, were among the books brought into an extended
circulation by the agency of the printing press. Bonus Accursius, as
early as 1475–1480, printed the collection of these fables, made by
Planudes, which, within five years afterwards, Caxton translated into
English, and printed at his press in Westminster Abbey, 1485.[10] It
must be mentioned also that the learning of this age has left permanent
traces of its influence on these fables,[11] by causing the
interpolation with them (as a κτῆμα εἰς ἰει) of some of those amusing
stories which were so frequently introduced into the public discourses
of the great preachers of those days, and of which specimens are yet to
be found in the extant sermons of Jean Raulin, Meffreth, and Gabriel
Barlette.[12] The publication of this era which most probably has
influenced these fables, is the “Liber Facetiarum,”[13] a book
consisting of a hundred jests and stories, by the celebrated Poggio
Bracciolini, published A.D. 1471, from which the two fables of the
“Miller, his Son, and the Ass,” and the “Fox and the Woodcutter,” are
undoubtedly selected.
The knowledge of these fables rapidly spread from Italy into Germany,
and their popularity was increased by the favour and sanction given to
them by the great fathers of the Reformation, who frequently used them
as vehicles for satire and protest against the tricks and abuses of the
Romish ecclesiastics. The zealous and renowned Camerarius, who took an
active part in the preparation of the Confession of Augsburgh, found
time, amidst his numerous avocations, to prepare a version for the
students in the University of Tübingen, in which he was a professor.
Martin Luther translated twenty of these fables, and was urged by
Melancthon to complete the whole; while Gottfried Arnold, the
celebrated Lutheran theologian, and librarian to Frederick I., king of
Prussia, mentions that the great Reformer valued the Fables of Æsop
next after the Holy Scriptures. In 1546 A.D. the second printed edition
of the collection of the Fables made by Planudes, was issued from the
printing-press of Robert Stephens, in which were inserted some
additional fables from a MS. in the Bibliothêque du Roy at Paris.
The greatest advance, however, towards a re-introduction of the Fables
of Æsop to a place in the literature of the world, was made in the
early part of the seventeenth century. In the year 1610, a learned
Swiss, Isaac Nicholas Nevelet, sent forth the third printed edition of
these fables, in a work entitled “Mythologia Æsopica.” This was a noble
effort to do honour to the great fabulist, and was the most perfect
collection of Æsopian fables ever yet published. It consisted, in
addition to the collection of fables given by Planudes and reprinted in
the various earlier editions, of one hundred and thirty-six new fables
(never before published) from MSS. in the Library of the Vatican, of
forty fables attributed to Aphthonius, and of forty-three from Babrias.
It also contained the Latin versions of the same fables by Phædrus,
Avienus, and other authors. This volume of Nevelet forms a complete
“Corpus Fabularum Æsopicarum;” and to his labours Æsop owes his
restoration to universal favour as one of the wise moralists and great
teachers of mankind. During the interval of three centuries which has
elapsed since the publication of this volume of Nevelet’s, no book,
with the exception of the Holy Scriptures, has had a wider circulation
than Æsop’s Fables. They have been translated into the greater number
of the languages both of Europe and of the East, and have been read,
and will be read, for generations, alike by Jew, Heathen, Mohammedan,
and Christian. They are, at the present time, not only engrafted into
the literature of the civilized world, but are familiar as household
words in the common intercourse and daily conversation of the
inhabitants of all countries.
This collection of Nevelet’s is the great culminating point in the
history of the revival of the fame and reputation of Æsopian Fables. It
is remarkable, also, as containing in its preface the germ of an idea,
which has been since proved to have been correct by a strange chain of
circumstances. Nevelet intimates an opinion, that a writer named
Babrias would be found to be the veritable author of the existing form
of Æsopian Fables. This intimation has since given rise to a series of
inquiries, the knowledge of which is necessary, in the present day, to
a full understanding of the true position of Æsop in connection with
the writings that bear his name.
The history of Babrias is so strange and interesting, that it might not
unfitly be enumerated among the curiosities of literature. He is
generally supposed to have been a Greek of Asia Minor, of one of the
Ionic Colonies, but the exact period in which he lived and wrote is yet
unsettled. He is placed, by one critic,[14] as far back as the
institution of the Achaian League, B.C. 250; by another as late as the
Emperor Severus, who died A.D. 235; while others make him a
contemporary with Phædrus in the time of Augustus. At whatever time he
wrote his version of Æsop, by some strange accident it seems to have
entirely disappeared, and to have been lost sight of. His name is
mentioned by Avienus; by Suidas, a celebrated critic, at the close of
the eleventh century, who gives in his lexicon several isolated verses
of his version of the fables; and by John Tzetzes, a grammarian and
poet of Constantinople, who lived during the latter half of the twelfth
century. Nevelet, in the preface to the volume which we have described,
points out that the Fables of Planudes could not be the work of Æsop,
as they contain a reference in two places to “Holy monks,” and give a
verse from the Epistle of St. James as an “Epimith” to one of the
fables, and suggests Babrias as their author. Francis Vavassor,[15] a
learned French jesuit, entered at greater length on this subject, and
produced further proofs from internal evidence, from the use of the
word Piræus in describing the harbour of Athens, a name which was not
given till two hundred years after Æsop, and from the introduction of
other modern words, that many of these fables must have been at least
committed to writing posterior to the time of Æsop, and more boldly
suggests Babrias as their author or collector.[16] These various
references to Babrias induced Dr. Richard Bentley, at the close of the
seventeenth century, to examine more minutely the existing versions of
Æsop’s Fables, and he maintained that many of them could, with a slight
change of words, be resolved into the Scazonic[17] iambics, in which
Babrias is known to have written: and, with a greater freedom than the
evidence then justified, he put forth, in behalf of Babrias, a claim to
the exclusive authorship of these fables. Such a seemingly extravagant
theory, thus roundly asserted, excited much opposition. Dr. Bentley[18]
met with an able antagonist in a member of the University of Oxford,
the Hon. Mr. Charles Boyle,[19] afterwards Earl of Orrery. Their
letters and disputations on this subject, enlivened on both sides with
much wit and learning, will ever bear a conspicuous place in the
literary history of the seventeenth century. The arguments of Dr.
Bentley were yet further defended a few years later by Mr. Thomas
Tyrwhitt, a well-read scholar, who gave up high civil distinctions that
he might devote himself the more unreservedly to literary pursuits. Mr.
Tyrwhitt published, A.D. 1776, a Dissertation on Babrias, and a
collection of his fables in choliambic metre found in a MS. in the
Bodleian Library at Oxford. Francesco de Furia, a learned Italian,
contributed further testimony to the correctness of the supposition
that Babrias had made a veritable collection of fables by printing from
a MS. contained in the Vatican library several fables never before
published. In the year 1844, however, new and unexpected light was
thrown upon this subject. A veritable copy of Babrias was found in a
manner as singular as were the MSS. of Quinctilian’s Institutes, and of
Cicero’s Orations by Poggio in the monastery of St. Gall A.D. 1416. M.
Menoides, at the suggestion of M. Villemain, Minister of Public
Instruction to King Louis Philippe, had been entrusted with a
commission to search for ancient MSS., and in carrying out his
instructions he found a MS. at the convent of St. Laura, on Mount
Athos, which proved to be a copy of the long suspected and wished-for
choliambic version of Babrias. This MS. was found to be divided into
two books, the one containing a hundred and twenty-five, and the other
ninety-five fables. This discovery attracted very general attention,
not only as confirming, in a singular manner, the conjectures so boldly
made by a long chain of critics, but as bringing to light valuable
literary treasures tending to establish the reputation, and to confirm
the antiquity and authenticity of the great mass of Æsopian Fable. The
Fables thus recovered were soon published. They found a most worthy
editor in the late distinguished Sir George Cornewall Lewis, and a
translator equally qualified for his task, in the Reverend James
Davies, M.A., sometime a scholar of Lincoln College, Oxford, and
himself a relation of their English editor. Thus, after an eclipse of
many centuries, Babrias shines out as the earliest, and most reliable
collector of veritable Æsopian Fables.
Having thus given a complete synopsis of the origin, descent, and
history of these fables, it only remains to explain the reasons which
have induced the Publishers to prepare a new edition of Æsop, and to
state the grounds on which they hope to establish a claim for support
and public approval in their undertaking. They boldly assert that the
new light thrown upon these fables by the discovery of the metrical
version by Babrias, renders a new translation an inevitable necessity.
The two chief existing English versions of Æsop are those by Archdeacon
Croxall, and by the late Rev. Thomas James, canon of Peterborough. The
first of these deviates so very far from the text, that it degenerates
into a parody. The fables are so padded, diluted, and altered, as to
give very little idea to the reader either of the terseness or the
meaning of the original. The second of these is an improvement on its
predecessor, but Mr. James, either out of compliance with the wishes of
the publishers, or in condescension to the taste prevalent some twenty
years ago, has so freely introduced as the point of the fable
conventional English sayings which are not sanctioned by the Greek, and
which in many instances are scarcely equivalent to it, that his version
frequently approaches a paraphrase rather than a translation.
The Publishers therefore ground their first claim for public approval
on the necessity of a new translation. They trust further that their
present work will have met that necessity in a satisfactory manner.
They have sought to give as nearly a literal translation as possible of
the Greek text; and they hope that if the reader should miss the
smoothness and thoroughly English tone which characterized the previous
version of these fables, he will be more than repaid by gaining a
nearer approach to the spirit, thoughts, and (in some cases) to the
epigrammatic terseness of the original. The Publishers trust to
vindicate, on another ground, their claims to a share of public
patronage. They have inserted a hundred new fables, and they have the
satisfaction of knowing that this edition, on which they have spared no
pains nor cost, will afford a larger choice, and greater variety, to
the numerous and increasing circle of the admirers of Æsopian Fables.
Whatever be the result of their labours, they will be content to have
contributed towards promoting a wider acquaintance with fables, the
wisdom, excellency, and wonderful suitableness of which to every
condition of humanity has been attested and confirmed by the experience
of so many generations; and which in all ages, amidst the ever changing
fluctuations of human opinion, are adapted alike to amuse the young,
and to instruct the thoughtful, and are well fitted to teach all who
study them lessons useful for their guidance in every position of
political, social, civil, or domestic life.
The Editor must claim the privilege of adding a few words on a matter
personal to himself. He has already within the last few months been
connected with one edition of Æsop, and it may seem strange that he
should be willing to undertake the superintendence of another. His
answer is, that the two works on which he has been engaged were totally
distinct, and entirely independent of each other. The first was a
request to furnish new morals and applications to a definite number of
fables; Ihe other was a commission to add a large number of additional
fables and to make a wholly new translation. The necessity of a new and
improved translation the Editor then recognized, and would have
willingly undertaken. It was a wish he had much at heart, and when the
proposal was voluntarily made to him by the present Publishers, to
undertake the task of a new translation of an enlarged number of Æsop’s
Fables, he saw no reason for refusing the offer because of his prior
discharge of a totally different design; and he resolved to comply with
the request submitted to him, and to do his best towards the attainment
of so desirable an object as a purer translation and more literal
rendering of fables so justly celebrated.
The following are the sources from which the present translation has
been prepared:—
Babrii Fabulæ Æsopeæ. George Cornewall Lewis. Oxford, 1846.
Babrii Fabulæ Æsopeæ. E codice manuscripto partem secundam edidit.
George Cornewall Lewis. London: Parker, 1857.
Mythologica Æsopica. Opera et studia Isaaci Nicholai Neveleti.
Frankfort, 1610.
Fabulæ Æsopiacæ, quales ante Planudem ferebantur cura et studio
Francisci de Furia. Lipsiæ, 1810.
Αἰσωπεὶων Μυθῶν Συναγωγή. Ex recognitione Caroli Halmii. Lipsiæ, 1851
Phædri Fabulæ Esopiæ. Delphin Classics. 1822.
GEORGE FYLER TOWNSEND
LIFE OF AESOP
The Life and History of Æsop is involved, like that of Homer, the most
famous of Greek poets, in much obscurity. Sardis, the capital of Lydia;
Samos, a Greek island; Mesembria, an ancient colony in Thrace; and
Cotiæum, the chief city of a province of Phrygia, contend for the
distinction of being the birthplace of Æsop. Although the honour thus
claimed cannot be definitely assigned to any one of these places, yet
there are a few incidents now generally accepted by scholars as
established facts, relating to the birth, life, and death of Æsop. He
is, by an almost universal consent, allowed to have been born about the
year 620 B.C., and to have been by birth a slave. He was owned by two
masters in succession, both inhabitants of Samos, Xanthus and Jadmon,
the latter of whom gave him his liberty as a reward for his learning
and wit. One of the privileges of a freedman in the ancient republics
of Greece, was the permission to take an active interest in public
affairs; and Æsop, like the philosophers Phædo, Menippus, and
Epictetus, in later times, raised himself from the indignity of a
servile condition to a position of high renown. In his desire alike to
instruct and to be instructed, he travelled through many countries, and
among others came to Sardis, the capital of the famous king of Lydia,
the great patron, in that day, of learning and of learned men. He met
at the court of Crœsus with Solon, Thales, and other sages, and is
related so to have pleased his royal master by the part he took in the
conversations held with these philosophers, that he applied to him an
expression which has since passed into a proverb, “μᾶλλον ὁ Φρύξ.” “The
Phrygian has spoken better than all.”
On the invitation of Crœsus he fixed his residence at Sardis, and was
employed by that monarch in various difficult and delicate affairs of
State. In his discharge of these commissions he visited the different
petty republics of Greece. At one time he is found in Corinth, and at
another in Athens, endeavouring, by the narration of some of his wise
fables, to reconcile the inhabitants of those cities to the
administration of their respective rulers Periander and Pisistratus.
One of these ambassadorial missions, undertaken at the command of
Crœsus, was the occasion of his death. Having been sent to Delphi with
a large sum of gold for distribution among the citizens, he was so
provoked at their covetousness that he refused to divide the money, and
sent it back to his master. The Delphians, enraged at this treatment,
accused him of impiety, and, in spite of his sacred character as
ambassador, executed him as a public criminal. This cruel death of Æsop
was not unavenged. The citizens of Delphi were visited with a series of
calamities, until they made a public reparation of their crime; and,
“The blood of Æsop” became a well-known adage, bearing witness to the
truth that deeds of wrong would not pass unpunished. Neither did the
great fabulist lack posthumous honours; for a statue was erected to his
memory at Athens, the work of Lysippus, one of the most famous of Greek
sculptors. Phædrus thus immortalizes the event:—
Æsopo ingentem statuam posuere Attici,
Servumque collocarunt æternâ in basi:
Patere honoris scirent ut cuncti viam;
Nec generi tribui sed virtuti gloriam.
These few facts are all that can be relied on with any degree of
certainty, in reference to the birth, life, and death of Æsop. They
were first brought to light, after a patient search and diligent
perusal of ancient authors, by a Frenchman, M. Claude Gaspard Bachet de
Mezeriac, who declined the honour of being tutor to Louis XIII. of
France, from his desire to devote himself exclusively to literature. He
published his Life of Æsop, Anno Domini 1632. The later investigations
of a host of English and German scholars have added very little to the
facts given by M. Mezeriac. The substantial truth of his statements has
been confirmed by later criticism and inquiry. It remains to state,
that prior to this publication of M. Mezeriac, the life of Æsop was
from the pen of Maximus Planudes, a monk of Constantinople, who was
sent on an embassy to Venice by the Byzantine Emperor Andronicus the
elder, and who wrote in the early part of the fourteenth century. His
life was prefixed to all the early editions of these fables, and was
republished as late as 1727 by Archdeacon Croxall as the introduction
to his edition of Æsop. This life by Planudes contains, however, so
small an amount of truth, and is so full of absurd pictures of the
grotesque deformity of Æsop, of wondrous apocryphal stories, of lying
legends, and gross anachronisms, that it is now universally condemned
as false, puerile, and unauthentic.[20] It is given up in the present
day, by general consent, as unworthy of the slightest credit.
AESOP’S FABLES
The Lion And The Mouse
A LION was awakened from sleep by a Mouse running over his face. Rising
up angrily, he caught him and was about to kill him, when the Mouse
piteously entreated, saying: “If you would only spare my life, I would
be sure to repay your kindness.” The Lion laughed and let him go. It
happened shortly after this that the Lion was caught by some hunters,
who bound him by strong ropes to the ground. The Mouse, recognizing his
roar, came and gnawed the rope with his teeth, and set him free,
exclaiming:
“You ridiculed the idea of my ever being able to help you, not
expecting to receive from me any repayment of your favour; now you know
that it is possible for even a Mouse to confer benefits on a Lion.”
The Wolf And The Lamb
WOLF, meeting with a Lamb astray from the fold, resolved not to lay
violent hands on him, but to find some plea to justify to the Lamb the
Wolf’s right to eat him. He thus addressed him: “Sirrah, last year you
grossly insulted me.” “Indeed,” bleated the Lamb in a mournful tone of
voice, “I was not then born.” Then said the Wolf, “You feed in my
pasture.” “No, good sir,” replied the Lamb, “I have not yet tasted
grass.” Again said the Wolf, “You drink of my well.” “No,” exclaimed
the Lamb, “I never yet drank water, for as yet my mother’s milk is both
food and drink to me.” Upon which the Wolf seized him and ate him up,
saying, “Well! I won’t remain supperless, even though you refute every
one of my imputations.” The tyrant will always find a pretext for his
tyranny.
The Ass And The Grasshopper
AN ASS having heard some Grasshoppers chirping, was highly enchanted;
and, desiring to possess the same charms of melody, demanded what sort
of food they lived on to give them such beautiful voices. They replied,
“The dew.” The Ass resolved that he would live only upon dew, and in a
short time died of hunger.
The Wolf and the Crane
A WOLF who had a bone stuck in his throat hired a Crane, for a large
sum, to put her head into his mouth and draw out the bone. When the
Crane had extracted the bone and demanded the promised payment, the
Wolf, grinning and grinding his teeth, exclaimed: “Why, you have surely
already had a sufficient recompense, in having been permitted to draw
out your head in safety from the mouth and jaws of a wolf.”
In serving the wicked, expect no reward, and be thankful if you escape
injury for your pains.
The Father And His Sons
A FATHER had a family of sons who were perpetually quarreling among
themselves. When he failed to heal their disputes by his exhortations,
he determined to give them a practical illustration of the evils of
disunion; and for this purpose he one day told them to bring him a
bundle of sticks. When they had done so, he placed the faggot into the
hands of each of them in succession, and ordered them to break it in
pieces. They tried with all their strength, and were not able to do it.
He next opened the faggot, took the sticks separately, one by one, and
again put them into his sons’ hands, upon which they broke them easily.
He then addressed them in these words: “My sons, if you are of one
mind, and unite to assist each other, you will be as this faggot,
uninjured by all the attempts of your enemies; but if you are divided
among yourselves, you will be broken as easily as these sticks.”
The Bat And The Weasels
A BAT who fell upon the ground and was caught by a Weasel pleaded to be
spared his life. The Weasel refused, saying that he was by nature the
enemy of all birds. The Bat assured him that he was not a bird, but a
mouse, and thus was set free. Shortly afterwards the Bat again fell to
the ground and was caught by another Weasel, whom he likewise entreated
not to eat him. The Weasel said that he had a special hostility to
mice. The Bat assured him that he was not a mouse, but a bat, and thus
a second time escaped.
It is wise to turn circumstances to good account.
The Cock and the Jewel
A COCK, scratching for food for himself and his hens, found a precious
stone and exclaimed: “If your owner had found thee, and not I, he would
have taken thee up, and have set thee in thy first estate; but I have
found thee for no purpose. I would rather have one barleycorn than all
the jewels in the world.”
The Swallow and the Crow
THE SWALLOW and the Crow had a contention about their plumage. The Crow
put an end to the dispute by saying, “Your feathers are all very well
in the spring, but mine protect me against the winter.”
Fair weather friends are not worth much.
The Kingdom of the Lion
THE BEASTS of the field and forest had a Lion as their king. He was
neither wrathful, cruel, nor tyrannical, but just and gentle as a king
could be. During his reign he made a royal proclamation for a general
assembly of all the birds and beasts, and drew up conditions for a
universal league, in which the Wolf and the Lamb, the Panther and the
Kid, the Tiger and the Stag, the Dog and the Hare, should live together
in perfect peace and amity. The Hare said, “Oh, how I have longed to
see this day, in which the weak shall take their place with impunity by
the side of the strong.” And after the Hare said this, he ran for his
life.
The Traveler and His Dog
A TRAVELER about to set out on a journey saw his Dog stand at the door
stretching himself. He asked him sharply: “Why do you stand there
gaping? Everything is ready but you, so come with me instantly.” The
Dog, wagging his tail, replied: “O, master! I am quite ready; it is you
for whom I am waiting.”
The loiterer often blames delay on his more active friend.
The Ants and the Grasshopper
THE ANTS were spending a fine winter’s day drying grain collected in
the summertime. A Grasshopper, perishing with famine, passed by and
earnestly begged for a little food. The Ants inquired of him, “Why did
you not treasure up food during the summer?” He replied, “I had not
leisure enough. I passed the days in singing.” They then said in
derision: “If you were foolish enough to sing all the summer, you must
dance supperless to bed in the winter.”
The Hare and the Tortoise
A HARE one day ridiculed the short feet and slow pace of the Tortoise,
who replied, laughing: “Though you be swift as the wind, I will beat
you in a race.” The Hare, believing her assertion to be simply
impossible, assented to the proposal; and they agreed that the Fox
should choose the course and fix the goal. On the day appointed for the
race the two started together. The Tortoise never for a moment stopped,
but went on with a slow but steady pace straight to the end of the
course. The Hare, lying down by the wayside, fell fast asleep. At last
waking up, and moving as fast as he could, he saw the Tortoise had
reached the goal, and was comfortably dozing after her fatigue.
Slow but steady wins the race.
The Charcoal-Burner And The Fuller
A CHARCOAL-BURNER carried on his trade in his own house. One day he met
a friend, a Fuller, and entreated him to come and live with him, saying
that they should be far better neighbors and that their housekeeping
expenses would be lessened. The Fuller replied, “The arrangement is
impossible as far as I am concerned, for whatever I should whiten, you
would immediately blacken again with your charcoal.”
Like will draw like.
The Boy Hunting Locusts
A BOY was hunting for locusts. He had caught a goodly number, when he
saw a Scorpion, and mistaking him for a locust, reached out his hand to
take him. The Scorpion, showing his sting, said: “If you had but
touched me, my friend, you would have lost me, and all your locusts
too!”
The Fisherman Piping
A FISHERMAN skilled in music took his flute and his nets to the
seashore. Standing on a projecting rock, he played several tunes in the
hope that the fish, attracted by his melody, would of their own accord
dance into his net, which he had placed below. At last, having long
waited in vain, he laid aside his flute, and casting his net into the
sea, made an excellent haul of fish. When he saw them leaping about in
the net upon the rock he said: “O you most perverse creatures, when I
piped you would not dance, but now that I have ceased you do so
merrily.”
The Dog and the Shadow
A DOG, crossing a bridge over a stream with a piece of flesh in his
mouth, saw his own shadow in the water and took it for that of another
Dog, with a piece of meat double his own in size. He immediately let go
of his own, and fiercely attacked the other Dog to get his larger piece
from him. He thus lost both: that which he grasped at in the water,
because it was a shadow; and his own, because the stream swept it away.
Hercules and the Wagoner
A CARTER was driving a wagon along a country lane, when the wheels sank
down deep into a rut. The rustic driver, stupefied and aghast, stood
looking at the wagon, and did nothing but utter loud cries to Hercules
to come and help him. Hercules, it is said, appeared and thus addressed
him: “Put your shoulders to the wheels, my man. Goad on your bullocks,
and never more pray to me for help, until you have done your best to
help yourself, or depend upon it you will henceforth pray in vain.”
Self-help is the best help.
The Mole and His Mother
A MOLE, a creature blind from birth, once said to his Mother: “I am
sure than I can see, Mother!” In the desire to prove to him his
mistake, his Mother placed before him a few grains of frankincense, and
asked, “What is it?” The young Mole said, “It is a pebble.” His Mother
exclaimed: “My son, I am afraid that you are not only blind, but that
you have lost your sense of smell.”
The Herdsman and the Lost Bull
A HERDSMAN tending his flock in a forest lost a Bull-calf from the
fold. After a long and fruitless search, he made a vow that, if he
could only discover the thief who had stolen the Calf, he would offer a
lamb in sacrifice to Hermes, Pan, and the Guardian Deities of the
forest. Not long afterwards, as he ascended a small hillock, he saw at
its foot a Lion feeding on the Calf. Terrified at the sight, he lifted
his eyes and his hands to heaven, and said: “Just now I vowed to offer
a lamb to the Guardian Deities of the forest if I could only find out
who had robbed me; but now that I have discovered the thief, I would
willingly add a full-grown Bull to the Calf I have lost, if I may only
secure my own escape from him in safety.”
The Fawn and His Mother
A YOUNG FAWN once said to his Mother, “You are larger than a dog, and
swifter, and more used to running, and you have your horns as a
defense; why, then, O Mother! do the hounds frighten you so?” She
smiled, and said: “I know full well, my son, that all you say is true.
I have the advantages you mention, but when I hear even the bark of a
single dog I feel ready to faint, and fly away as fast as I can.”
No arguments will give courage to the coward.
The Ass, the Fox, and the Lion
THE ASS and the Fox, having entered into partnership together for their
mutual protection, went out into the forest to hunt. They had not
proceeded far when they met a Lion. The Fox, seeing imminent danger,
approached the Lion and promised to contrive for him the capture of the
Ass if the Lion would pledge his word not to harm the Fox. Then, upon
assuring the Ass that he would not be injured, the Fox led him to a
deep pit and arranged that he should fall into it. The Lion, seeing
that the Ass was secured, immediately clutched the Fox, and attacked
the Ass at his leisure.
The Flies and the Honey-Pot
A NUMBER of Flies were attracted to a jar of honey which had been
overturned in a housekeeper’s room, and placing their feet in it, ate
greedily. Their feet, however, became so smeared with the honey that
they could not use their wings, nor release themselves, and were
suffocated. Just as they were expiring, they exclaimed, “O foolish
creatures that we are, for the sake of a little pleasure we have
destroyed ourselves.”
Pleasure bought with pains, hurts.
The Lioness
A CONTROVERSY prevailed among the beasts of the field as to which of
the animals deserved the most credit for producing the greatest number
of whelps at a birth. They rushed clamorously into the presence of the
Lioness and demanded of her the settlement of the dispute. “And you,”
they said, “how many sons have you at a birth?” The Lioness laughed at
them, and said: “Why! I have only one; but that one is altogether a
thoroughbred Lion.”
The value is in the worth, not in the number.
The Farmer and the Snake
ONE WINTER a Farmer found a Snake stiff and frozen with cold. He had
compassion on it, and taking it up, placed it in his bosom. The Snake
was quickly revived by the warmth, and resuming its natural instincts,
bit its benefactor, inflicting on him a mortal wound. “Oh,” cried the
Farmer with his last breath, “I am rightly served for pitying a
scoundrel.”
The greatest kindness will not bind the ungrateful.
The Man and the Lion
A MAN and a Lion traveled together through the forest. They soon began
to boast of their respective superiority to each other in strength and
prowess. As they were disputing, they passed a statue carved in stone,
which represented “a Lion strangled by a Man.” The traveler pointed to
it and said: “See there! How strong we are, and how we prevail over
even the king of beasts.” The Lion replied: “This statue was made by
one of you men. If we Lions knew how to erect statues, you would see
the Man placed under the paw of the Lion.”
One story is good, till another is told.
The Pomegranate, Apple-Tree, and Bramble
THE POMEGRANATE and Apple-Tree disputed as to which was the most
beautiful. When their strife was at its height, a Bramble from the
neighboring hedge lifted up its voice, and said in a boastful tone:
“Pray, my dear friends, in my presence at least cease from such vain
disputings.”
The Farmer and the Stork
A FARMER placed nets on his newly-sown plowlands and caught a number of
Cranes, which came to pick up his seed. With them he trapped a Stork
that had fractured his leg in the net and was earnestly beseeching the
Farmer to spare his life. “Pray save me, Master,” he said, “and let me
go free this once. My broken limb should excite your pity. Besides, I
am no Crane, I am a Stork, a bird of excellent character; and see how I
love and slave for my father and mother. Look too, at my feathers—they
are not the least like those of a Crane.” The Farmer laughed aloud and
said, “It may be all as you say, I only know this: I have taken you
with these robbers, the Cranes, and you must die in their company.”
Birds of a feather flock together.
The Mountain in Labor
A MOUNTAIN was once greatly agitated. Loud groans and noises were
heard, and crowds of people came from all parts to see what was the
matter. While they were assembled in anxious expectation of some
terrible calamity, out came a Mouse.
Don’t make much ado about nothing.
The Bear and the Fox
A BEAR boasted very much of his philanthropy, saying that of all
animals he was the most tender in his regard for man, for he had such
respect for him that he would not even touch his dead body. A Fox
hearing these words said with a smile to the Bear, “Oh! that you would
eat the dead and not the living.”
The Tortoise and the Eagle
A TORTOISE, lazily basking in the sun, complained to the sea-birds of
her hard fate, that no one would teach her to fly. An Eagle, hovering
near, heard her lamentation and demanded what reward she would give him
if he would take her aloft and float her in the air. “I will give you,”
she said, “all the riches of the Red Sea.” “I will teach you to fly
then,” said the Eagle; and taking her up in his talons he carried her
almost to the clouds suddenly he let her go, and she fell on a lofty
mountain, dashing her shell to pieces. The Tortoise exclaimed in the
moment of death: “I have deserved my present fate; for what had I to do
with wings and clouds, who can with difficulty move about on the
earth?”
If men had all they wished, they would be often ruined.
The Fox and the Goat
A FOX one day fell into a deep well and could find no means of escape.
A Goat, overcome with thirst, came to the same well, and seeing the
Fox, inquired if the water was good. Concealing his sad plight under a
merry guise, the Fox indulged in a lavish praise of the water, saying
it was excellent beyond measure, and encouraging him to descend. The
Goat, mindful only of his thirst, thoughtlessly jumped down, but just
as he drank, the Fox informed him of the difficulty they were both in
and suggested a scheme for their common escape. “If,” said he, “you
will place your forefeet upon the wall and bend your head, I will run
up your back and escape, and will help you out afterwards.” The Goat
readily assented and the Fox leaped upon his back. Steadying himself
with the Goat’s horns, he safely reached the mouth of the well and made
off as fast as he could. When the Goat upbraided him for breaking his
promise, he turned around and cried out, “You foolish old fellow! If
you had as many brains in your head as you have hairs in your beard,
you would never have gone down before you had inspected the way up, nor
have exposed yourself to dangers from which you had no means of
escape.”
Look before you leap.
The Raven and the Swan
A RAVEN saw a Swan and desired to secure for himself the same beautiful
plumage. Supposing that the Swan’s splendid white color arose from his
washing in the water in which he swam, the Raven left the altars in the
neighborhood where he picked up his living, and took up residence in
the lakes and pools. But cleansing his feathers as often as he would,
he could not change their color, while through want of food he
perished.
Change of habit cannot alter Nature.
The Thirsty Pigeon
A PIGEON, oppressed by excessive thirst, saw a goblet of water painted
on a signboard. Not supposing it to be only a picture, she flew towards
it with a loud whir and unwittingly dashed against the signboard,
jarring herself terribly. Having broken her wings by the blow, she fell
to the ground, and was caught by one of the bystanders.
Zeal should not outrun discretion.
The Dog in the Manger
A DOG lay in a manger, and by his growling and snapping prevented the
oxen from eating the hay which had been placed for them. “What a
selfish Dog!” said one of them to his companions; “he cannot eat the
hay himself, and yet refuses to allow those to eat who can.”
The Oxen and the Axle-Trees
A HEAVY WAGON was being dragged along a country lane by a team of Oxen.
The Axle-trees groaned and creaked terribly; whereupon the Oxen,
turning round, thus addressed the wheels: “Hullo there! why do you make
so much noise? We bear all the labor, and we, not you, ought to cry
out.”
Those who suffer most cry out the least.
The Farmer and the Cranes
SOME CRANES made their feeding grounds on some plowlands newly sown
with wheat. For a long time the Farmer, brandishing an empty sling,
chased them away by the terror he inspired; but when the birds found
that the sling was only swung in the air, they ceased to take any
notice of it and would not move. The Farmer, on seeing this, charged
his sling with stones, and killed a great number. The remaining birds
at once forsook his fields, crying to each other, “It is time for us to
be off to Liliput: for this man is no longer content to scare us, but
begins to show us in earnest what he can do.”
If words suffice not, blows must follow.
The Sick Lion
A LION, unable from old age and infirmities to provide himself with
food by force, resolved to do so by artifice. He returned to his den,
and lying down there, pretended to be sick, taking care that his
sickness should be publicly known. The beasts expressed their sorrow,
and came one by one to his den, where the Lion devoured them. After
many of the beasts had thus disappeared, the Fox discovered the trick
and presenting himself to the Lion, stood on the outside of the cave,
at a respectful distance, and asked him how he was. “I am very
middling,” replied the Lion, “but why do you stand without? Pray enter
within to talk with me.” “No, thank you,” said the Fox. “I notice that
there are many prints of feet entering your cave, but I see no trace of
any returning.”
He is wise who is warned by the misfortunes of others.
The Bear and the Two Travelers
TWO MEN were traveling together, when a Bear suddenly met them on their
path. One of them climbed up quickly into a tree and concealed himself
in the branches. The other, seeing that he must be attacked, fell flat
on the ground, and when the Bear came up and felt him with his snout,
and smelt him all over, he held his breath, and feigned the appearance
of death as much as he could. The Bear soon left him, for it is said he
will not touch a dead body. When he was quite gone, the other Traveler
descended from the tree, and jocularly inquired of his friend what it
was the Bear had whispered in his ear. “He gave me this advice,” his
companion replied. “Never travel with a friend who deserts you at the
approach of danger.”
Misfortune tests the sincerity of friends.
The Fox Who Had Lost His Tail
A FOX caught in a trap escaped, but in so doing lost his tail.
Thereafter, feeling his life a burden from the shame and ridicule to
which he was exposed, he schemed to convince all the other Foxes that
being tailless was much more attractive, thus making up for his own
deprivation. He assembled a good many Foxes and publicly advised them
to cut off their tails, saying that they would not only look much
better without them, but that they would get rid of the weight of the
brush, which was a very great inconvenience. One of them interrupting
him said, “If you had not yourself lost your tail, my friend, you would
not thus counsel us.”
The Cat and the Cock
A CAT caught a Cock, and pondered how he might find a reasonable excuse
for eating him. He accused him of being a nuisance to men by crowing in
the nighttime and not permitting them to sleep. The Cock defended
himself by saying that he did this for the benefit of men, that they
might rise in time for their labours. The Cat replied, “Although you
abound in specious apologies, I shall not remain supperless;” and he
made a meal of him.
The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
ONCE UPON A TIME a Wolf resolved to disguise his appearance in order to
secure food more easily. Encased in the skin of a sheep, he pastured
with the flock deceiving the shepherd by his costume. In the evening he
was shut up by the shepherd in the fold; the gate was closed, and the
entrance made thoroughly secure. But the shepherd, returning to the
fold during the night to obtain meat for the next day, mistakenly
caught up the Wolf instead of a sheep, and killed him instantly.
Harm seek, harm find.
The Goat and the Goatherd
A GOATHERD had sought to bring back a stray goat to his flock. He
whistled and sounded his horn in vain; the straggler paid no attention
to the summons. At last the Goatherd threw a stone, and breaking its
horn, begged the Goat not to tell his master. The Goat replied, “Why,
you silly fellow, the horn will speak though I be silent.”
Do not attempt to hide things which cannot be hid.
The Boasting Traveler
A MAN who had traveled in foreign lands boasted very much, on returning
to his own country, of the many wonderful and heroic feats he had
performed in the different places he had visited. Among other things,
he said that when he was at Rhodes he had leaped to such a distance
that no man of his day could leap anywhere near him as to that, there
were in Rhodes many persons who saw him do it and whom he could call as
witnesses. One of the bystanders interrupted him, saying: “Now, my good
man, if this be all true there is no need of witnesses. Suppose this to
be Rhodes, and leap for us.”
The Lion in Love
A LION demanded the daughter of a woodcutter in marriage. The Father,
unwilling to grant, and yet afraid to refuse his request, hit upon this
expedient to rid himself of his importunities. He expressed his
willingness to accept the Lion as the suitor of his daughter on one
condition: that he should allow him to extract his teeth, and cut off
his claws, as his daughter was fearfully afraid of both. The Lion
cheerfully assented to the proposal. But when the toothless, clawless
Lion returned to repeat his request, the Woodman, no longer afraid, set
upon him with his club, and drove him away into the forest.
The Miser
A MISER sold all that he had and bought a lump of gold, which he buried
in a hole in the ground by the side of an old wall and went to look at
daily. One of his workmen observed his frequent visits to the spot and
decided to watch his movements. He soon discovered the secret of the
hidden treasure, and digging down, came to the lump of gold, and stole
it. The Miser, on his next visit, found the hole empty and began to
tear his hair and to make loud lamentations. A neighbor, seeing him
overcome with grief and learning the cause, said, “Pray do not grieve
so; but go and take a stone, and place it in the hole, and fancy that
the gold is still lying there. It will do you quite the same service;
for when the gold was there, you had it not, as you did not make the
slightest use of it.”
The Porker, the Sheep, and the Goat
A young Pig was shut up in a fold-yard with a Goat and a Sheep. On one
occasion the shepherd laid hold of him, when he grunted, and squeaked,
and resisted violently. The Sheep and the Goat complained of his
distressing cries, and said, “He often handles us, and we do not cry
out.” To this he replied, “Your handling and mine are very different
things. He catches you only for your wool, or your milk, but he lays
hold on me for my very life.”
The Boy and the Filberts
A BOY put his hand into a pitcher full of filberts. He grasped as many
as he could possibly hold, but when he tried to pull out his hand, he
was prevented from doing so by the neck of the pitcher. Unwilling to
lose his filberts, and yet unable to withdraw his hand, he burst into
tears and bitterly lamented his disappointment. A bystander said to
him, “Be satisfied with half the quantity, and you will readily draw
out your hand.”
Do not attempt too much at once.
The Frogs Asking for a King
THE FROGS, grieved at having no established Ruler, sent ambassadors to
Jupiter entreating for a King. Perceiving their simplicity, he cast
down a huge log into the lake. The Frogs were terrified at the splash
occasioned by its fall and hid themselves in the depths of the pool.
But as soon as they realized that the huge log was motionless, they
swam again to the top of the water, dismissed their fears, climbed up,
and began squatting on it in contempt. After some time they began to
think themselves ill-treated in the appointment of so inert a Ruler,
and sent a second deputation to Jupiter to pray that he would set over
them another sovereign. He then gave them an Eel to govern them. When
the Frogs discovered his easy good nature, they sent yet a third time
to Jupiter to beg him to choose for them still another King. Jupiter,
displeased with all their complaints, sent a Heron, who preyed upon the
Frogs day by day till there were none left to croak upon the lake.
The Laborer and the Snake
A SNAKE, having made his hole close to the porch of a cottage,
inflicted a mortal bite on the Cottager’s infant son. Grieving over his
loss, the Father resolved to kill the Snake. The next day, when it came
out of its hole for food, he took up his axe, but by swinging too
hastily, missed its head and cut off only the end of its tail. After
some time the Cottager, afraid that the Snake would bite him also,
endeavored to make peace, and placed some bread and salt in the hole.
The Snake, slightly hissing, said: “There can henceforth be no peace
between us; for whenever I see you I shall remember the loss of my
tail, and whenever you see me you will be thinking of the death of your
son.”
No one truly forgets injuries in the presence of him who caused the
injury.
The Lion, the Mouse, and the Fox
A LION, fatigued by the heat of a summer’s day, fell fast asleep in his
den. A Mouse ran over his mane and ears and woke him from his slumbers.
He rose up and shook himself in great wrath, and searched every corner
of his den to find the Mouse. A Fox seeing him said: “A fine Lion you
are, to be frightened of a Mouse.” “’Tis not the Mouse I fear,” said
the Lion; “I resent his familiarity and ill-breeding.”
Little liberties are great offenses.
The Horse and Groom
A GROOM used to spend whole days in currycombing and rubbing down his
Horse, but at the same time stole his oats and sold them for his own
profit. “Alas!” said the Horse, “if you really wish me to be in good
condition, you should groom me less, and feed me more.”
The Ass and the Mule
A MULETEER set forth on a journey, driving before him an Ass and a
Mule, both well laden. The Ass, as long as he traveled along the plain,
carried his load with ease, but when he began to ascend the steep path
of the mountain, felt his load to be more than he could bear. He
entreated his companion to relieve him of a small portion, that he
might carry home the rest; but the Mule paid no attention to the
request. The Ass shortly afterwards fell down dead under his burden.
Not knowing what else to do in so wild a region, the Muleteer placed
upon the Mule the load carried by the Ass in addition to his own, and
at the top of all placed the hide of the Ass, after he had skinned him.
The Mule, groaning beneath his heavy burden, said to himself: “I am
treated according to my deserts. If I had only been willing to assist
the Ass a little in his need, I should not now be bearing, together
with his burden, himself as well.”
The Ass and the Lapdog
A MAN had an Ass, and a Maltese Lapdog, a very great beauty. The Ass
was left in a stable and had plenty of oats and hay to eat, just as any
other Ass would. The Lapdog knew many tricks and was a great favourite
with his master, who often fondled him and seldom went out to dine
without bringing him home some tidbit to eat. The Ass, on the contrary,
had much work to do in grinding the corn-mill and in carrying wood from
the forest or burdens from the farm. He often lamented his own hard
fate and contrasted it with the luxury and idleness of the Lapdog, till
at last one day he broke his cords and halter, and galloped into his
master’s house, kicking up his heels without measure, and frisking and
fawning as well as he could. He next tried to jump about his master as
he had seen the Lapdog do, but he broke the table and smashed all the
dishes upon it to atoms. He then attempted to lick his master, and
jumped upon his back. The servants, hearing the strange hubbub and
perceiving the danger of their master, quickly relieved him, and drove
out the Ass to his stable with kicks and clubs and cuffs. The Ass, as
he returned to his stall beaten nearly to death, thus lamented: “I have
brought it all on myself! Why could I not have been contented to labor
with my companions, and not wish to be idle all the day like that
useless little Lapdog!”
The Oxen and the Butchers
THE OXEN once upon a time sought to destroy the Butchers, who practiced
a trade destructive to their race. They assembled on a certain day to
carry out their purpose, and sharpened their horns for the contest. But
one of them who was exceedingly old (for many a field had he plowed)
thus spoke: “These Butchers, it is true, slaughter us, but they do so
with skillful hands, and with no unnecessary pain. If we get rid of
them, we shall fall into the hands of unskillful operators, and thus
suffer a double death: for you may be assured, that though all the
Butchers should perish, yet will men never want beef.”
Do not be in a hurry to change one evil for another.
The Shepherd’s Boy and the Wolf
A SHEPHERD-BOY, who watched a flock of sheep near a village, brought
out the villagers three or four times by crying out, “Wolf! Wolf!” and
when his neighbors came to help him, laughed at them for their pains.
The Wolf, however, did truly come at last. The Shepherd-boy, now really
alarmed, shouted in an agony of terror: “Pray, do come and help me; the
Wolf is killing the sheep;” but no one paid any heed to his cries, nor
rendered any assistance. The Wolf, having no cause of fear, at his
leisure lacerated or destroyed the whole flock.
There is no believing a liar, even when he speaks the truth.
The Boys and the Frogs
SOME BOYS, playing near a pond, saw a number of Frogs in the water and
began to pelt them with stones. They killed several of them, when one
of the Frogs, lifting his head out of the water, cried out: “Pray stop,
my boys: what is sport to you, is death to us.”
The Salt Merchant and His Ass
A PEDDLER drove his Ass to the seashore to buy salt. His road home lay
across a stream into which his Ass, making a false step, fell by
accident and rose up again with his load considerably lighter, as the
water melted the sack. The Peddler retraced his steps and refilled his
panniers with a larger quantity of salt than before. When he came again
to the stream, the Ass fell down on purpose in the same spot, and,
regaining his feet with the weight of his load much diminished, brayed
triumphantly as if he had obtained what he desired. The Peddler saw
through his trick and drove him for the third time to the coast, where
he bought a cargo of sponges instead of salt. The Ass, again playing
the fool, fell down on purpose when he reached the stream, but the
sponges became swollen with water, greatly increasing his load. And
thus his trick recoiled on him, for he now carried on his back a double
burden.
The Mischievous Dog
A DOG used to run up quietly to the heels of everyone he met, and to
bite them without notice. His master suspended a bell about his neck so
that the Dog might give notice of his presence wherever he went.
Thinking it a mark of distinction, the Dog grew proud of his bell and
went tinkling it all over the marketplace. One day an old hound said to
him: “Why do you make such an exhibition of yourself? That bell that
you carry is not, believe me, any order of merit, but on the contrary a
mark of disgrace, a public notice to all men to avoid you as an ill
mannered dog.”
Notoriety is often mistaken for fame.
The Goatherd and the Wild Goats
A GOATHERD, driving his flock from their pasture at eventide, found
some Wild Goats mingled among them, and shut them up together with his
own for the night. The next day it snowed very hard, so that he could
not take the herd to their usual feeding places, but was obliged to
keep them in the fold. He gave his own goats just sufficient food to
keep them alive, but fed the strangers more abundantly in the hope of
enticing them to stay with him and of making them his own. When the
thaw set in, he led them all out to feed, and the Wild Goats scampered
away as fast as they could to the mountains. The Goatherd scolded them
for their ingratitude in leaving him, when during the storm he had
taken more care of them than of his own herd. One of them, turning
about, said to him: “That is the very reason why we are so cautious;
for if you yesterday treated us better than the Goats you have had so
long, it is plain also that if others came after us, you would in the
same manner prefer them to ourselves.”
Old friends cannot with impunity be sacrificed for new ones.
The Man and His Two Sweethearts
A MIDDLE-AGED MAN, whose hair had begun to turn gray, courted two women
at the same time. One of them was young, and the other well advanced in
years. The elder woman, ashamed to be courted by a man younger than
herself, made a point, whenever her admirer visited her, to pull out
some portion of his black hairs. The younger, on the contrary, not
wishing to become the wife of an old man, was equally zealous in
removing every gray hair she could find. Thus it came to pass that
between them both he very soon found that he had not a hair left on his
head.
Those who seek to please everybody please nobody.
The Sick Stag
A SICK STAG lay down in a quiet corner of its pasture-ground. His
companions came in great numbers to inquire after his health, and each
one helped himself to a share of the food which had been placed for his
use; so that he died, not from his sickness, but from the failure of
the means of living.
Evil companions bring more hurt than profit.
The Boy and the Nettles
A BOY was stung by a Nettle. He ran home and told his Mother, saying,
“Although it hurts me very much, I only touched it gently.” “That was
just why it stung you,” said his Mother. “The next time you touch a
Nettle, grasp it boldly, and it will be soft as silk to your hand, and
not in the least hurt you.”
Whatever you do, do with all your might.
The Astronomer
AN ASTRONOMER used to go out at night to observe the stars. One
evening, as he wandered through the suburbs with his whole attention
fixed on the sky, he fell accidentally into a deep well. While he
lamented and bewailed his sores and bruises, and cried loudly for help,
a neighbor ran to the well, and learning what had happened said: “Hark
ye, old fellow, why, in striving to pry into what is in heaven, do you
not manage to see what is on earth?”
The Wolves and the Sheep
“WHY SHOULD there always be this fear and slaughter between us?” said
the Wolves to the Sheep. “Those evil-disposed Dogs have much to answer
for. They always bark whenever we approach you and attack us before we
have done any harm. If you would only dismiss them from your heels,
there might soon be treaties of peace and reconciliation between us.”
The Sheep, poor silly creatures, were easily beguiled and dismissed the
Dogs, whereupon the Wolves destroyed the unguarded flock at their own
pleasure.
The Cat and the Birds
A CAT, hearing that the Birds in a certain aviary were ailing dressed
himself up as a physician, and, taking his cane and a bag of
instruments becoming his profession, went to call on them. He knocked
at the door and inquired of the inmates how they all did, saying that
if they were ill, he would be happy to prescribe for them and cure
them. They replied, “We are all very well, and shall continue so, if
you will only be good enough to go away, and leave us as we are.”
The Vain Jackdaw
JUPITER DETERMINED, it is said, to create a sovereign over the birds,
and made proclamation that on a certain day they should all present
themselves before him, when he would himself choose the most beautiful
among them to be king. The Jackdaw, knowing his own ugliness, searched
through the woods and fields, and collected the feathers which had
fallen from the wings of his companions, and stuck them in all parts of
his body, hoping thereby to make himself the most beautiful of all.
When the appointed day arrived, and the birds had assembled before
Jupiter, the Jackdaw also made his appearance in his many feathered
finery. But when Jupiter proposed to make him king because of the
beauty of his plumage, the birds indignantly protested, and each
plucked from him his own feathers, leaving the Jackdaw nothing but a
Jackdaw.
The Kid and the Wolf
A KID standing on the roof of a house, out of harm’s way, saw a Wolf
passing by and immediately began to taunt and revile him. The Wolf,
looking up, said, “Sirrah! I hear thee: yet it is not thou who mockest
me, but the roof on which thou art standing.”
Time and place often give the advantage to the weak over the strong.
The Old Woman and the Physician
AN OLD WOMAN having lost the use of her eyes, called in a Physician to
heal them, and made this bargain with him in the presence of witnesses:
that if he should cure her blindness, he should receive from her a sum
of money; but if her infirmity remained, she should give him nothing.
This agreement being made, the Physician, time after time, applied his
salve to her eyes, and on every visit took something away, stealing all
her property little by little. And when he had got all she had, he
healed her and demanded the promised payment. The Old Woman, when she
recovered her sight and saw none of her goods in her house, would give
him nothing. The Physician insisted on his claim, and, as she still
refused, summoned her before the Judge. The Old Woman, standing up in
the Court, argued: “This man here speaks the truth in what he says; for
I did promise to give him a sum of money if I should recover my sight:
but if I continued blind, I was to give him nothing. Now he declares
that I am healed. I on the contrary affirm that I am still blind; for
when I lost the use of my eyes, I saw in my house various chattels and
valuable goods: but now, though he swears I am cured of my blindness, I
am not able to see a single thing in it.”
The Ox and the Frog
AN OX drinking at a pool trod on a brood of young frogs and crushed one
of them to death. The Mother coming up, and missing one of her sons,
inquired of his brothers what had become of him. “He is dead, dear
Mother; for just now a very huge beast with four great feet came to the
pool and crushed him to death with his cloven heel.” The Frog, puffing
herself out, inquired, “if the beast was as big as that in size.”
“Cease, Mother, to puff yourself out,” said her son, “and do not be
angry; for you would, I assure you, sooner burst than successfully
imitate the hugeness of that monster.”
The Farmer and His Sons
A FATHER, being on the point of death, wished to be sure that his sons
would give the same attention to his farm as he himself had given it.
He called them to his bedside and said, “My sons, there is a great
treasure hid in one of my vineyards.” The sons, after his death, took
their spades and mattocks and carefully dug over every portion of their
land. They found no treasure, but the vines repaid their labor by an
extraordinary and superabundant crop.
The Heifer and the Ox
A HEIFER saw an Ox hard at work harnessed to a plow, and tormented him
with reflections on his unhappy fate in being compelled to labor.
Shortly afterwards, at the harvest festival, the owner released the Ox
from his yoke, but bound the Heifer with cords and led him away to the
altar to be slain in honour of the occasion. The Ox saw what was being
done, and said with a smile to the Heifer: “For this you were allowed
to live in idleness, because you were presently to be sacrificed.”
The Fighting Cocks and the Eagle
TWO GAME COCKS were fiercely fighting for the mastery of the farmyard.
One at last put the other to flight. The vanquished Cock skulked away
and hid himself in a quiet corner, while the conqueror, flying up to a
high wall, flapped his wings and crowed exultingly with all his might.
An Eagle sailing through the air pounced upon him and carried him off
in his talons. The vanquished Cock immediately came out of his corner,
and ruled henceforth with undisputed mastery.
Pride goes before destruction.
The Charger and the Miller
A CHARGER, feeling the infirmities of age, was sent to work in a mill
instead of going out to battle. But when he was compelled to grind
instead of serving in the wars, he bewailed his change of fortune and
called to mind his former state, saying, “Ah! Miller, I had indeed to
go campaigning before, but I was barbed from counter to tail, and a man
went along to groom me; and now I cannot understand what ailed me to
prefer the mill before the battle.” “Forbear,” said the Miller to him,
“harping on what was of yore, for it is the common lot of mortals to
sustain the ups and downs of fortune.”
The Fox and the Monkey
A MONKEY once danced in an assembly of the Beasts, and so pleased them
all by his performance that they elected him their King. A Fox, envying
him the honour, discovered a piece of meat lying in a trap, and leading
the Monkey to the place where it was, said that she had found a store,
but had not used it, she had kept it for him as treasure trove of his
kingdom, and counseled him to lay hold of it. The Monkey approached
carelessly and was caught in the trap; and on his accusing the Fox of
purposely leading him into the snare, she replied, “O Monkey, and are
you, with such a mind as yours, going to be King over the Beasts?”
The Horse and His Rider
A HORSE SOLDIER took the utmost pains with his charger. As long as the
war lasted, he looked upon him as his fellow-helper in all emergencies
and fed him carefully with hay and corn. But when the war was over, he
only allowed him chaff to eat and made him carry heavy loads of wood,
subjecting him to much slavish drudgery and ill-treatment. War was
again proclaimed, however, and when the trumpet summoned him to his
standard, the Soldier put on his charger its military trappings, and
mounted, being clad in his heavy coat of mail. The Horse fell down
straightway under the weight, no longer equal to the burden, and said
to his master, “You must now go to the war on foot, for you have
transformed me from a Horse into an Ass; and how can you expect that I
can again turn in a moment from an Ass to a Horse?”
The Belly and the Members
THE MEMBERS of the Body rebelled against the Belly, and said, “Why
should we be perpetually engaged in administering to your wants, while
you do nothing but take your rest, and enjoy yourself in luxury and
self-indulgence?” The Members carried out their resolve and refused
their assistance to the Belly. The whole Body quickly became
debilitated, and the hands, feet, mouth, and eyes, when too late,
repented of their folly.
The Widow and Her Little Maidens
A WIDOW who was fond of cleaning had two little maidens to wait on her.
She was in the habit of waking them early in the morning, at cockcrow.
The maidens, aggravated by such excessive labor, resolved to kill the
cock who roused their mistress so early. When they had done this, they
found that they had only prepared for themselves greater troubles, for
their mistress, no longer hearing the hour from the cock, woke them up
to their work in the middle of the night.
The Vine and the Goat
A VINE was luxuriant in the time of vintage with leaves and grapes. A
Goat, passing by, nibbled its young tendrils and its leaves. The Vine
addressed him and said: “Why do you thus injure me without a cause, and
crop my leaves? Is there no young grass left? But I shall not have to
wait long for my just revenge; for if you now should crop my leaves,
and cut me down to my root, I shall provide the wine to pour over you
when you are led as a victim to the sacrifice.”
Jupiter and the Monkey
JUPITER ISSUED a proclamation to all the beasts of the forest and
promised a royal reward to the one whose offspring should be deemed the
handsomest. The Monkey came with the rest and presented, with all a
mother’s tenderness, a flat-nosed, hairless, ill-featured young Monkey
as a candidate for the promised reward. A general laugh saluted her on
the presentation of her son. She resolutely said, “I know not whether
Jupiter will allot the prize to my son, but this I do know, that he is
at least in the eyes of me his mother, the dearest, handsomest, and
most beautiful of all.”
The Hawk, the Kite, and the Pigeons
THE PIGEONS, terrified by the appearance of a Kite, called upon the
Hawk to defend them. He at once consented. When they had admitted him
into the cote, they found that he made more havoc and slew a larger
number of them in one day than the Kite could pounce upon in a whole
year.
Avoid a remedy that is worse than the disease.
The Dolphins, the Whales, and the Sprat
THE DOLPHINS and Whales waged a fierce war with each other. When the
battle was at its height, a Sprat lifted its head out of the waves and
said that he would reconcile their differences if they would accept him
as an umpire. One of the Dolphins replied, “We would far rather be
destroyed in our battle with each other than admit any interference
from you in our affairs.”
The Swallow, the Serpent, and the Court of Justice
A SWALLOW, returning from abroad and especially fond of dwelling with
men, built herself a nest in the wall of a Court of Justice and there
hatched seven young birds. A Serpent gliding past the nest from its
hole in the wall ate up the young unfledged nestlings. The Swallow,
finding her nest empty, lamented greatly and exclaimed: “Woe to me a
stranger! that in this place where all others’ rights are protected, I
alone should suffer wrong.”
The Two Pots
A RIVER carried down in its stream two Pots, one made of earthenware
and the other of brass. The Earthen Pot said to the Brass Pot, “Pray
keep at a distance and do not come near me, for if you touch me ever so
slightly, I shall be broken in pieces, and besides, I by no means wish
to come near you.”
Equals make the best friends.
The Shepherd and the Wolf
A SHEPHERD once found the whelp of a Wolf and brought it up, and after
a while taught it to steal lambs from the neighboring flocks. The Wolf,
having shown himself an apt pupil, said to the Shepherd, “Since you
have taught me to steal, you must keep a sharp lookout, or you will
lose some of your own flock.”
The Crab and Its Mother
A CRAB said to her son, “Why do you walk so one-sided, my child? It is
far more becoming to go straight forward.” The young Crab replied:
“Quite true, dear Mother; and if you will show me the straight way, I
will promise to walk in it.” The Mother tried in vain, and submitted
without remonstrance to the reproof of her child.
Example is more powerful than precept.
The Father and His Two Daughters
A MAN had two daughters, the one married to a gardener, and the other
to a tile-maker. After a time he went to the daughter who had married
the gardener, and inquired how she was and how all things went with
her. She said, “All things are prospering with me, and I have only one
wish, that there may be a heavy fall of rain, in order that the plants
may be well watered.” Not long after, he went to the daughter who had
married the tilemaker, and likewise inquired of her how she fared; she
replied, “I want for nothing, and have only one wish, that the dry
weather may continue, and the sun shine hot and bright, so that the
bricks might be dried.” He said to her, “If your sister wishes for
rain, and you for dry weather, with which of the two am I to join my
wishes?”
The Thief and His Mother
A BOY stole a lesson-book from one of his schoolfellows and took it
home to his Mother. She not only abstained from beating him, but
encouraged him. He next time stole a cloak and brought it to her, and
she again commended him. The Youth, advanced to adulthood, proceeded to
steal things of still greater value. At last he was caught in the very
act, and having his hands bound behind him, was led away to the place
of public execution. His Mother followed in the crowd and violently
beat her breast in sorrow, whereupon the young man said, “I wish to say
something to my Mother in her ear.” She came close to him, and he
quickly seized her ear with his teeth and bit it off. The Mother
upbraided him as an unnatural child, whereon he replied, “Ah! if you
had beaten me when I first stole and brought to you that lesson-book, I
should not have come to this, nor have been thus led to a disgraceful
death.”
The Old Man and Death
AN OLD MAN was employed in cutting wood in the forest, and, in carrying
the faggots to the city for sale one day, became very wearied with his
long journey. He sat down by the wayside, and throwing down his load,
besought “Death” to come. “Death” immediately appeared in answer to his
summons and asked for what reason he had called him. The Old Man
hurriedly replied, “That, lifting up the load, you may place it again
upon my shoulders.”
The Fir-Tree and the Bramble
A FIR-TREE said boastingly to the Bramble, “You are useful for nothing
at all; while I am everywhere used for roofs and houses.” The Bramble
answered: “You poor creature, if you would only call to mind the axes
and saws which are about to hew you down, you would have reason to wish
that you had grown up a Bramble, not a Fir-Tree.”
Better poverty without care, than riches with.
The Æthiop
THE PURCHASER of a black servant was persuaded that the color of his
skin arose from dirt contracted through the neglect of his former
masters. On bringing him home he resorted to every means of cleaning,
and subjected the man to incessant scrubbings. The servant caught a
severe cold, but he never changed his color or complexion.
What’s bred in the bone will stick to the flesh.
The Mouse, the Frog, and the Hawk
A MOUSE who always lived on the land, by an unlucky chance formed an
intimate acquaintance with a Frog, who lived for the most part in the
water. The Frog, one day intent on mischief, bound the foot of the
Mouse tightly to his own. Thus joined together, the Frog first of all
led his friend the Mouse to the meadow where they were accustomed to
find their food. After this, he gradually led him towards the pool in
which he lived, until reaching the very brink, he suddenly jumped in,
dragging the Mouse with him. The Frog enjoyed the water amazingly, and
swam croaking about, as if he had done a good deed. The unhappy Mouse
was soon suffocated by the water, and his dead body floated about on
the surface, tied to the foot of the Frog. A Hawk observed it, and,
pouncing upon it with his talons, carried it aloft. The Frog, being
still fastened to the leg of the Mouse, was also carried off a
prisoner, and was eaten by the Hawk.
Harm hatch, harm catch.
The Fisherman and His Nets
A FISHERMAN, engaged in his calling, made a very successful cast and
captured a great haul of fish. He managed by a skillful handling of his
net to retain all the large fish and to draw them to the shore; but he
could not prevent the smaller fish from falling back through the meshes
of the net into the sea.
The Wolf and the Sheep
A WOLF, sorely wounded and bitten by dogs, lay sick and maimed in his
lair. Being in want of food, he called to a Sheep who was passing, and
asked him to fetch some water from a stream flowing close beside him.
“For,” he said, “if you will bring me drink, I will find means to
provide myself with meat.” “Yes,” said the Sheep, “if I should bring
you the draught, you would doubtless make me provide the meat also.”
Hypocritical speeches are easily seen through.
The Old Woman and the Wine-Jar
AN OLD WOMAN found an empty jar which had lately been full of prime old
wine and which still retained the fragrant smell of its former
contents. She greedily placed it several times to her nose, and drawing
it backwards and forwards said, “O most delicious! How nice must the
Wine itself have been, when it leaves behind in the very vessel which
contained it so sweet a perfume!”
The memory of a good deed lives.
The Man Bitten by a Dog
A MAN who had been bitten by a Dog went about in quest of someone who
might heal him. A friend, meeting him and learning what he wanted,
said, “If you would be cured, take a piece of bread, and dip it in the
blood from your wound, and go and give it to the Dog that bit you.” The
Man who had been bitten laughed at this advice and said, “Why? If I
should do so, it would be as if I should beg every Dog in the town to
bite me.”
Benefits bestowed upon the evil-disposed increase their means of
injuring you.
The Huntsman and the Fisherman
A HUNTSMAN, returning with his dogs from the field, fell in by chance
with a Fisherman who was bringing home a basket well laden with fish.
The Huntsman wished to have the fish, and their owner experienced an
equal longing for the contents of the game-bag. They quickly agreed to
exchange the produce of their day’s sport. Each was so well pleased
with his bargain that they made for some time the same exchange day
after day. Finally a neighbor said to them, “If you go on in this way,
you will soon destroy by frequent use the pleasure of your exchange,
and each will again wish to retain the fruits of his own sport.”
Abstain and enjoy.
The Fox and the Crow
A CROW having stolen a bit of meat, perched in a tree and held it in
her beak. A Fox, seeing this, longed to possess the meat himself, and
by a wily stratagem succeeded. “How handsome is the Crow,” he
exclaimed, “in the beauty of her shape and in the fairness of her
complexion! Oh, if her voice were only equal to her beauty, she would
deservedly be considered the Queen of Birds!” This he said deceitfully;
but the Crow, anxious to refute the reflection cast upon her voice, set
up a loud caw and dropped the flesh. The Fox quickly picked it up, and
thus addressed the Crow: “My good Crow, your voice is right enough, but
your wit is wanting.”
The Widow and the Sheep
A CERTAIN poor widow had one solitary Sheep. At shearing time, wishing
to take his fleece and to avoid expense, she sheared him herself, but
used the shears so unskillfully that with the fleece she sheared the
flesh. The Sheep, writhing with pain, said, “Why do you hurt me so,
Mistress? What weight can my blood add to the wool? If you want my
flesh, there is the butcher, who will kill me in an instant; but if you
want my fleece and wool, there is the shearer, who will shear and not
hurt me.”
The least outlay is not always the greatest gain.
The Playful Ass
AN ASS climbed up to the roof of a building, and frisking about there,
broke in the tiling. The owner went up after him and quickly drove him
down, beating him severely with a thick wooden cudgel. The Ass said,
“Why, I saw the Monkey do this very thing yesterday, and you all
laughed heartily, as if it afforded you very great amusement.”
The Stag in the Ox-Stall
A STAG, roundly chased by the hounds and blinded by fear to the danger
he was running into, took shelter in a farmyard and hid himself in a
shed among the oxen. An Ox gave him this kindly warning: “O unhappy
creature! why should you thus, of your own accord, incur destruction
and trust yourself in the house of your enemy?” The Stag replied: “Only
allow me, friend, to stay where I am, and I will undertake to find some
favourable opportunity of effecting my escape.” At the approach of the
evening the herdsman came to feed his cattle, but did not see the Stag;
and even the farm-bailiff with several laborers passed through the shed
and failed to notice him. The Stag, congratulating himself on his
safety, began to express his sincere thanks to the Oxen who had kindly
helped him in the hour of need. One of them again answered him: “We
indeed wish you well, but the danger is not over. There is one other
yet to pass through the shed, who has as it were a hundred eyes, and
until he has come and gone, your life is still in peril.” At that
moment the master himself entered, and having had to complain that his
oxen had not been properly fed, he went up to their racks and cried
out: “Why is there such a scarcity of fodder? There is not half enough
straw for them to lie on. Those lazy fellows have not even swept the
cobwebs away.” While he thus examined everything in turn, he spied the
tips of the antlers of the Stag peeping out of the straw. Then
summoning his laborers, he ordered that the Stag should be seized and
killed.
The Two Dogs
A MAN had two dogs: a Hound, trained to assist him in his sports, and a
Housedog, taught to watch the house. When he returned home after a good
day’s sport, he always gave the Housedog a large share of his spoil.
The Hound, feeling much aggrieved at this, reproached his companion,
saying, “It is very hard to have all this labor, while you, who do not
assist in the chase, luxuriate on the fruits of my exertions.” The
Housedog replied, “Do not blame me, my friend, but find fault with the
master, who has not taught me to labor, but to depend for subsistence
on the labor of others.”
Children are not to be blamed for the faults of their parents.
The Wild Ass and the Lion
A WILD ASS and a Lion entered into an alliance so that they might
capture the beasts of the forest with greater ease. The Lion agreed to
assist the Wild Ass with his strength, while the Wild Ass gave the Lion
the benefit of his greater speed. When they had taken as many beasts as
their necessities required, the Lion undertook to distribute the prey,
and for this purpose divided it into three shares. “I will take the
first share,” he said, “because I am King: and the second share, as a
partner with you in the chase: and the third share (believe me) will be
a source of great evil to you, unless you willingly resign it to me,
and set off as fast as you can.”
Might makes right.
The Lion and the Dolphin
A LION roaming by the seashore saw a Dolphin lift up its head out of
the waves, and suggested that they contract an alliance, saying that of
all the animals they ought to be the best friends, since the one was
the king of beasts on the earth, and the other was the sovereign ruler
of all the inhabitants of the ocean. The Dolphin gladly consented to
this request. Not long afterwards the Lion had a combat with a wild
bull, and called on the Dolphin to help him. The Dolphin, though quite
willing to give him assistance, was unable to do so, as he could not by
any means reach the land. The Lion abused him as a traitor. The Dolphin
replied, “Nay, my friend, blame not me, but Nature, which, while giving
me the sovereignty of the sea, has quite denied me the power of living
upon the land.”
The Eagle and the Arrow
AN EAGLE sat on a lofty rock, watching the movements of a Hare whom he
sought to make his prey. An archer, who saw the Eagle from a place of
concealment, took an accurate aim and wounded him mortally. The Eagle
gave one look at the arrow that had entered his heart and saw in that
single glance that its feathers had been furnished by himself. “It is a
double grief to me,” he exclaimed, “that I should perish by an arrow
feathered from my own wings.”
The Sick Kite
A KITE, sick unto death, said to his mother: “O Mother! do not mourn,
but at once invoke the gods that my life may be prolonged.” She
replied, “Alas! my son, which of the gods do you think will pity you?
Is there one whom you have not outraged by filching from their very
altars a part of the sacrifice offered up to them?”
We must make friends in prosperity if we would have their help in
adversity.
The Lion and the Boar
ON A SUMMER DAY, when the great heat induced a general thirst among the
beasts, a Lion and a Boar came at the same moment to a small well to
drink. They fiercely disputed which of them should drink first, and
were soon engaged in the agonies of a mortal combat. When they stopped
suddenly to catch their breath for a fiercer renewal of the fight, they
saw some Vultures waiting in the distance to feast on the one that
should fall first. They at once made up their quarrel, saying, “It is
better for us to make friends, than to become the food of Crows or
Vultures.”
The Mice in Council
THE MICE summoned a council to decide how they might best devise means
of warning themselves of the approach of their great enemy the Cat.
Among the many plans suggested, the one that found most favour was the
proposal to tie a bell to the neck of the Cat, so that the Mice, being
warned by the sound of the tinkling, might run away and hide themselves
in their holes at his approach. But when the Mice further debated who
among them should thus “bell the Cat,” there was no one found to do it.
The One-Eyed Doe
A DOE blind in one eye was accustomed to graze as near to the edge of
the cliff as she possibly could, in the hope of securing her greater
safety. She turned her sound eye towards the land that she might get
the earliest tidings of the approach of hunter or hound, and her
injured eye towards the sea, from whence she entertained no
anticipation of danger. Some boatmen sailing by saw her, and taking a
successful aim, mortally wounded her. Yielding up her last breath, she
gasped forth this lament: “O wretched creature that I am! to take such
precaution against the land, and after all to find this seashore, to
which I had come for safety, so much more perilous.”
The Mice and the Weasels
THE WEASELS and the Mice waged a perpetual war with each other, in
which much blood was shed. The Weasels were always the victors. The
Mice thought that the cause of their frequent defeats was that they had
no leaders set apart from the general army to command them, and that
they were exposed to dangers from lack of discipline. They therefore
chose as leaders Mice that were most renowned for their family descent,
strength, and counsel, as well as those most noted for their courage in
the fight, so that they might be better marshaled in battle array and
formed into troops, regiments, and battalions. When all this was done,
and the army disciplined, and the herald Mouse had duly proclaimed war
by challenging the Weasels, the newly chosen generals bound their heads
with straws, that they might be more conspicuous to all their troops.
Scarcely had the battle begun, when a great rout overwhelmed the Mice,
who scampered off as fast as they could to their holes. The generals,
not being able to get in on account of the ornaments on their heads,
were all captured and eaten by the Weasels.
The more honour the more danger.
The Shepherd and the Sea
A SHEPHERD, keeping watch over his sheep near the shore, saw the Sea
very calm and smooth, and longed to make a voyage with a view to
commerce. He sold all his flock, invested it in a cargo of dates, and
set sail. But a very great tempest came on, and the ship being in
danger of sinking, he threw all his merchandise overboard, and barely
escaped with his life in the empty ship. Not long afterwards when
someone passed by and observed the unruffled calm of the Sea, he
interrupted him and said, “It is again in want of dates, and therefore
looks quiet.”
The Ass, the Cock, and the Lion
AN ASS and a Cock were in a straw-yard together when a Lion, desperate
from hunger, approached the spot. He was about to spring upon the Ass,
when the Cock (to the sound of whose voice the Lion, it is said, has a
singular aversion) crowed loudly, and the Lion fled away as fast as he
could. The Ass, observing his trepidation at the mere crowing of a Cock
summoned courage to attack him, and galloped after him for that
purpose. He had run no long distance, when the Lion, turning about,
seized him and tore him to pieces.
False confidence often leads into danger.
The Rivers and the Sea
THE RIVERS joined together to complain to the Sea, saying, “Why is it
that when we flow into your tides so potable and sweet, you work in us
such a change, and make us salty and unfit to drink?” The Sea,
perceiving that they intended to throw the blame on him, said, “Pray
cease to flow into me, and then you will not be made briny.”
The Wild Boar and the Fox
A WILD BOAR stood under a tree and rubbed his tusks against the trunk.
A Fox passing by asked him why he thus sharpened his teeth when there
was no danger threatening from either huntsman or hound. He replied, “I
do it advisedly; for it would never do to have to sharpen my weapons
just at the time I ought to be using them.”
To be well prepared for war is the best guarantee of peace.
The Milk-Woman and Her Pail
A FARMER’S daughter was carrying her Pail of milk from the field to the
farmhouse, when she fell a-musing. “The money for which this milk will
be sold, will buy at least three hundred eggs. The eggs, allowing for
all mishaps, will produce two hundred and fifty chickens. The chickens
will become ready for the market when poultry will fetch the highest
price, so that by the end of the year I shall have money enough from my
share to buy a new gown. In this dress I will go to the Christmas
parties, where all the young fellows will propose to me, but I will
toss my head and refuse them every one.” At this moment she tossed her
head in unison with her thoughts, when down fell the milk pail to the
ground, and all her imaginary schemes perished in a moment.
The Bee and Jupiter
A BEE from Mount Hymettus, the queen of the hive, ascended to Olympus
to present Jupiter some honey fresh from her combs. Jupiter, delighted
with the offering of honey, promised to give whatever she should ask.
She therefore besought him, saying, “Give me, I pray thee, a sting,
that if any mortal shall approach to take my honey, I may kill him.”
Jupiter was much displeased, for he loved the race of man, but could
not refuse the request because of his promise. He thus answered the
Bee: “You shall have your request, but it will be at the peril of your
own life. For if you use your sting, it shall remain in the wound you
make, and then you will die from the loss of it.”
Evil wishes, like chickens, come home to roost.
The Wolf and the Housedog
A WOLF, meeting a big well-fed Mastiff with a wooden collar about his
neck asked him who it was that fed him so well and yet compelled him to
drag that heavy log about wherever he went. “The master,” he replied.
Then said the Wolf: “May no friend of mine ever be in such a plight;
for the weight of this chain is enough to spoil the appetite.”
The Three Tradesmen
A GREAT CITY was besieged, and its inhabitants were called together to
consider the best means of protecting it from the enemy. A Bricklayer
earnestly recommended bricks as affording the best material for an
effective resistance. A Carpenter, with equal enthusiasm, proposed
timber as a preferable method of defense. Upon which a Currier stood up
and said, “Sirs, I differ from you altogether: there is no material for
resistance equal to a covering of hides; and nothing so good as
leather.”
Every man for himself.
The Ass Carrying the Image
AN ASS once carried through the streets of a city a famous wooden
Image, to be placed in one of its Temples. As he passed along, the
crowd made lowly prostration before the Image. The Ass, thinking that
they bowed their heads in token of respect for himself, bristled up
with pride, gave himself airs, and refused to move another step. The
driver, seeing him thus stop, laid his whip lustily about his shoulders
and said, “O you perverse dull-head! it is not yet come to this, that
men pay worship to an Ass.”
They are not wise who give to themselves the credit due to others.
The Master and His Dogs
A CERTAIN MAN, detained by a storm in his country house, first of all
killed his sheep, and then his goats, for the maintenance of his
household. The storm still continuing, he was obliged to slaughter his
yoke oxen for food. On seeing this, his Dogs took counsel together, and
said, “It is time for us to be off, for if the master spare not his
oxen, who work for his gain, how can we expect him to spare us?”
He is not to be trusted as a friend who mistreats his own family.
The Old Hound
A HOUND, who in the days of his youth and strength had never yielded to
any beast of the forest, encountered in his old age a boar in the
chase. He seized him boldly by the ear, but could not retain his hold
because of the decay of his teeth, so that the boar escaped. His
master, quickly coming up, was very much disappointed, and fiercely
abused the dog. The Hound looked up and said, “It was not my fault
master: my spirit was as good as ever, but I could not help my
infirmities. I rather deserve to be praised for what I have been, than
to be blamed for what I am.”
The Two Travelers and the Axe
TWO MEN were journeying together. One of them picked up an axe that lay
upon the path, and said, “I have found an axe.” “Nay, my friend,”
replied the other, “do not say ‘I,’ but ‘We’ have found an axe.” They
had not gone far before they saw the owner of the axe pursuing them,
and he who had picked up the axe said, “We are undone.” “Nay,” replied
the other, “keep to your first mode of speech, my friend; what you
thought right then, think right now. Say ‘I,’ not ‘We’ are undone.”
He who shares the danger ought to share the prize.
The Old Lion
A LION, worn out with years and powerless from disease, lay on the
ground at the point of death. A Boar rushed upon him, and avenged with
a stroke of his tusks a long-remembered injury. Shortly afterwards the
Bull with his horns gored him as if he were an enemy. When the Ass saw
that the huge beast could be assailed with impunity, he let drive at
his forehead with his heels. The expiring Lion said, “I have
reluctantly brooked the insults of the brave, but to be compelled to
endure such treatment from thee, a disgrace to Nature, is indeed to die
a double death.”
The Wolf and the Shepherds
A WOLF, passing by, saw some Shepherds in a hut eating a haunch of
mutton for their dinner. Approaching them, he said, “What a clamor you
would raise if I were to do as you are doing!”
The Seaside Travelers
SOME TRAVELERS, journeying along the seashore, climbed to the summit of
a tall cliff, and looking over the sea, saw in the distance what they
thought was a large ship. They waited in the hope of seeing it enter
the harbor, but as the object on which they looked was driven nearer to
shore by the wind, they found that it could at the most be a small
boat, and not a ship. When however it reached the beach, they
discovered that it was only a large faggot of sticks, and one of them
said to his companions, “We have waited for no purpose, for after all
there is nothing to see but a load of wood.”
Our mere anticipations of life outrun its realities.
The Ass and His Shadow
A TRAVELER hired an Ass to convey him to a distant place. The day being
intensely hot, and the sun shining in its strength, the Traveler
stopped to rest, and sought shelter from the heat under the Shadow of
the Ass. As this afforded only protection for one, and as the Traveler
and the owner of the Ass both claimed it, a violent dispute arose
between them as to which of them had the right to the Shadow. The owner
maintained that he had let the Ass only, and not his Shadow. The
Traveler asserted that he had, with the hire of the Ass, hired his
Shadow also. The quarrel proceeded from words to blows, and while the
men fought, the Ass galloped off.
In quarreling about the shadow we often lose the substance.
The Ass and His Masters
AN ASS, belonging to an herb-seller who gave him too little food and
too much work made a petition to Jupiter to be released from his
present service and provided with another master. Jupiter, after
warning him that he would repent his request, caused him to be sold to
a tile-maker. Shortly afterwards, finding that he had heavier loads to
carry and harder work in the brick-field, he petitioned for another
change of master. Jupiter, telling him that it would be the last time
that he could grant his request, ordained that he be sold to a tanner.
The Ass found that he had fallen into worse hands, and noting his
master’s occupation, said, groaning: “It would have been better for me
to have been either starved by the one, or to have been overworked by
the other of my former masters, than to have been bought by my present
owner, who will even after I am dead tan my hide, and make me useful to
him.”
Mercury and the Sculptor
MERCURY once determined to learn in what esteem he was held among
mortals. For this purpose he assumed the character of a man and visited
in this disguise a Sculptor’s studio having looked at various statues,
he demanded the price of two figures of Jupiter and Juno. When the sum
at which they were valued was named, he pointed to a figure of himself,
saying to the Sculptor, “You will certainly want much more for this, as
it is the statue of the Messenger of the Gods, and author of all your
gain.” The Sculptor replied, “Well, if you will buy these, I’ll fling
you that into the bargain.”
The Fox and the Woodcutter
A FOX, running before the hounds, came across a Woodcutter felling an
oak and begged him to show him a safe hiding-place. The Woodcutter
advised him to take shelter in his own hut, so the Fox crept in and hid
himself in a corner. The huntsman soon came up with his hounds and
inquired of the Woodcutter if he had seen the Fox. He declared that he
had not seen him, and yet pointed, all the time he was speaking, to the
hut where the Fox lay hidden. The huntsman took no notice of the signs,
but believing his word, hastened forward in the chase. As soon as they
were well away, the Fox departed without taking any notice of the
Woodcutter: whereon he called to him and reproached him, saying, “You
ungrateful fellow, you owe your life to me, and yet you leave me
without a word of thanks.” The Fox replied, “Indeed, I should have
thanked you fervently if your deeds had been as good as your words, and
if your hands had not been traitors to your speech.”
The Oak and the Reeds
A VERY LARGE OAK was uprooted by the wind and thrown across a stream.
It fell among some Reeds, which it thus addressed: “I wonder how you,
who are so light and weak, are not entirely crushed by these strong
winds.” They replied, “You fight and contend with the wind, and
consequently you are destroyed; while we on the contrary bend before
the least breath of air, and therefore remain unbroken, and escape.”
Stoop to conquer.
The Lion in a Farmyard
A LION entered a farmyard. The Farmer, wishing to catch him, shut the
gate. When the Lion found that he could not escape, he flew upon the
sheep and killed them, and then attacked the oxen. The Farmer,
beginning to be alarmed for his own safety, opened the gate and
released the Lion. On his departure the Farmer grievously lamented the
destruction of his sheep and oxen, but his wife, who had been a
spectator to all that took place, said, “On my word, you are rightly
served, for how could you for a moment think of shutting up a Lion
along with you in your farmyard when you know that you shake in your
shoes if you only hear his roar at a distance?”
The Wolf and the Lion
A WOLF, having stolen a lamb from a fold, was carrying him off to his
lair. A Lion met him in the path, and seizing the lamb, took it from
him. Standing at a safe distance, the Wolf exclaimed, “You have
unrighteously taken that which was mine from me!” To which the Lion
jeeringly replied, “It was righteously yours, eh? The gift of a
friend?”
The Birdcatcher, the Partridge, and the Cock
A BIRDCATCHER was about to sit down to a dinner of herbs when a friend
unexpectedly came in. The bird-trap was quite empty, as he had caught
nothing, and he had to kill a pied Partridge, which he had tamed for a
decoy. The bird entreated earnestly for his life: “What would you do
without me when next you spread your nets? Who would chirp you to
sleep, or call for you the covey of answering birds?” The Birdcatcher
spared his life, and determined to pick out a fine young Cock just
attaining to his comb. But the Cock expostulated in piteous tones from
his perch: “If you kill me, who will announce to you the appearance of
the dawn? Who will wake you to your daily tasks or tell you when it is
time to visit the bird-trap in the morning?” He replied, “What you say
is true. You are a capital bird at telling the time of day. But my
friend and I must have our dinners.”
Necessity knows no law.
The Ant and the Dove
AN ANT went to the bank of a river to quench its thirst, and being
carried away by the rush of the stream, was on the point of drowning. A
Dove sitting on a tree overhanging the water plucked a leaf and let it
fall into the stream close to her. The Ant climbed onto it and floated
in safety to the bank. Shortly afterwards a birdcatcher came and stood
under the tree, and laid his lime-twigs for the Dove, which sat in the
branches. The Ant, perceiving his design, stung him in the foot. In
pain the birdcatcher threw down the twigs, and the noise made the Dove
take wing.
The Hares and the Frogs
THE HARES, oppressed by their own exceeding timidity and weary of the
perpetual alarm to which they were exposed, with one accord determined
to put an end to themselves and their troubles by jumping from a lofty
precipice into a deep lake below. As they scampered off in large
numbers to carry out their resolve, the Frogs lying on the banks of the
lake heard the noise of their feet and rushed helter-skelter to the
deep water for safety. On seeing the rapid disappearance of the Frogs,
one of the Hares cried out to his companions: “Stay, my friends, do not
do as you intended; for you now see that there are creatures who are
still more timid than ourselves.”
The Monkey and the Fishermen
A MONKEY perched upon a lofty tree saw some Fishermen casting their
nets into a river, and narrowly watched their proceedings. The
Fishermen after a while gave up fishing, and on going home to dinner
left their nets upon the bank. The Monkey, who is the most imitative of
animals, descended from the treetop and endeavored to do as they had
done. Having handled the net, he threw it into the river, but became
tangled in the meshes and drowned. With his last breath he said to
himself, “I am rightly served; for what business had I who had never
handled a net to try and catch fish?”
The Swan and the Goose
A CERTAIN rich man bought in the market a Goose and a Swan. He fed the
one for his table and kept the other for the sake of its song. When the
time came for killing the Goose, the cook went to get him at night,
when it was dark, and he was not able to distinguish one bird from the
other. By mistake he caught the Swan instead of the Goose. The Swan,
threatened with death, burst forth into song and thus made himself
known by his voice, and preserved his life by his melody.
The Doe and the Lion
A DOE hard pressed by hunters sought refuge in a cave belonging to a
Lion. The Lion concealed himself on seeing her approach, but when she
was safe within the cave, sprang upon her and tore her to pieces. “Woe
is me,” exclaimed the Doe, “who have escaped from man, only to throw
myself into the mouth of a wild beast?”
In avoiding one evil, care must be taken not to fall into another.
The Fisherman and the Little Fish
A FISHERMAN who lived on the produce of his nets, one day caught a
single small Fish as the result of his day’s labor. The Fish, panting
convulsively, thus entreated for his life: “O Sir, what good can I be
to you, and how little am I worth? I am not yet come to my full size.
Pray spare my life, and put me back into the sea. I shall soon become a
large fish fit for the tables of the rich, and then you can catch me
again, and make a handsome profit of me.” The Fisherman replied, “I
should indeed be a very simple fellow if, for the chance of a greater
uncertain profit, I were to forego my present certain gain.”
The Hunter and the Woodman
A HUNTER, not very bold, was searching for the tracks of a Lion. He
asked a man felling oaks in the forest if he had seen any marks of his
footsteps or knew where his lair was. “I will,” said the man, “at once
show you the Lion himself.” The Hunter, turning very pale and
chattering with his teeth from fear, replied, “No, thank you. I did not
ask that; it is his track only I am in search of, not the Lion
himself.”
The hero is brave in deeds as well as words.
The Swollen Fox
A VERY HUNGRY FOX, seeing some bread and meat left by shepherds in the
hollow of an oak, crept into the hole and made a hearty meal. When he
finished, he was so full that he was not able to get out, and began to
groan and lament his fate. Another Fox passing by heard his cries, and
coming up, inquired the cause of his complaining. On learning what had
happened, he said to him, “Ah, you will have to remain there, my
friend, until you become such as you were when you crept in, and then
you will easily get out.”
The Two Frogs
TWO FROGS dwelt in the same pool. When the pool dried up under the
summer’s heat, they left it and set out together for another home. As
they went along they chanced to pass a deep well, amply supplied with
water, and when they saw it, one of the Frogs said to the other, “Let
us descend and make our abode in this well: it will furnish us with
shelter and food.” The other replied with greater caution, “But suppose
the water should fail us. How can we get out again from so great a
depth?”
Do nothing without a regard to the consequences.
The Lamp
A LAMP, soaked with too much oil and flaring brightly, boasted that it
gave more light than the sun. Then a sudden puff of wind arose, and the
Lamp was immediately extinguished. Its owner lit it again, and said:
“Boast no more, but henceforth be content to give thy light in silence.
Know that not even the stars need to be relit.”
The Camel and the Arab
AN ARAB Camel-driver, after completing the loading of his Camel, asked
him which he would like best, to go up hill or down. The poor beast
replied, not without a touch of reason: “Why do you ask me? Is it that
the level way through the desert is closed?”
The Miller, His Son, and Their Ass
A MILLER and his son were driving their Ass to a neighboring fair to
sell him. They had not gone far when they met with a troop of women
collected round a well, talking and laughing. “Look there,” cried one
of them, “did you ever see such fellows, to be trudging along the road
on foot when they might ride?” The old man hearing this, quickly made
his son mount the Ass, and continued to walk along merrily by his side.
Presently they came up to a group of old men in earnest debate.
“There,” said one of them, “it proves what I was a-saying. What respect
is shown to old age in these days? Do you see that idle lad riding
while his old father has to walk? Get down, you young scapegrace, and
let the old man rest his weary limbs.” Upon this the old man made his
son dismount, and got up himself. In this manner they had not proceeded
far when they met a company of women and children: “Why, you lazy old
fellow,” cried several tongues at once, “how can you ride upon the
beast, while that poor little lad there can hardly keep pace by the
side of you?” The good-natured Miller immediately took up his son
behind him. They had now almost reached the town. “Pray, honest
friend,” said a citizen, “is that Ass your own?” “Yes,” replied the old
man. “O, one would not have thought so,” said the other, “by the way
you load him. Why, you two fellows are better able to carry the poor
beast than he you.” “Anything to please you,” said the old man; “we can
but try.” So, alighting with his son, they tied the legs of the Ass
together and with the help of a pole endeavored to carry him on their
shoulders over a bridge near the entrance to the town. This
entertaining sight brought the people in crowds to laugh at it, till
the Ass, not liking the noise nor the strange handling that he was
subject to, broke the cords that bound him and, tumbling off the pole,
fell into the river. Upon this, the old man, vexed and ashamed, made
the best of his way home again, convinced that by endeavoring to please
everybody he had pleased nobody, and lost his Ass in the bargain.
The Cat and the Mice
A CERTAIN HOUSE was overrun with Mice. A Cat, discovering this, made
her way into it and began to catch and eat them one by one. Fearing for
their lives, the Mice kept themselves close in their holes. The Cat was
no longer able to get at them and perceived that she must tempt them
forth by some device. For this purpose she jumped upon a peg, and
suspending herself from it, pretended to be dead. One of the Mice,
peeping stealthily out, saw her and said, “Ah, my good madam, even
though you should turn into a meal-bag, we will not come near you.”
The Mouse and the Bull
A BULL was bitten by a Mouse and, angered by the wound, tried to
capture him. But the Mouse reached his hole in safety. Though the Bull
dug into the walls with his horns, he tired before he could rout out
the Mouse, and crouching down, went to sleep outside the hole. The
Mouse peeped out, crept furtively up his flank, and again biting him,
retreated to his hole. The Bull rising up, and not knowing what to do,
was sadly perplexed. At which the Mouse said, “The great do not always
prevail. There are times when the small and lowly are the strongest to
do mischief.”
The Dog and the Cook
A RICH MAN gave a great feast, to which he invited many friends and
acquaintances. His Dog availed himself of the occasion to invite a
stranger Dog, a friend of his, saying, “My master gives a feast, and
there is always much food remaining; come and sup with me tonight.” The
Dog thus invited went at the hour appointed, and seeing the
preparations for so grand an entertainment, said in the joy of his
heart, “How glad I am that I came! I do not often get such a chance as
this. I will take care and eat enough to last me both today and
tomorrow.” While he was congratulating himself and wagging his tail to
convey his pleasure to his friend, the Cook saw him moving about among
his dishes and, seizing him by his fore and hind paws, bundled him
without ceremony out of the window. He fell with force upon the ground
and limped away, howling dreadfully. His yelling soon attracted other
street dogs, who came up to him and inquired how he had enjoyed his
supper. He replied, “Why, to tell you the truth, I drank so much wine
that I remember nothing. I do not know how I got out of the house.”
The Thieves and the Cock
SOME THIEVES broke into a house and found nothing but a Cock, whom they
stole, and got off as fast as they could. Upon arriving at home they
prepared to kill the Cock, who thus pleaded for his life: “Pray spare
me; I am very serviceable to men. I wake them up in the night to their
work.” “That is the very reason why we must the more kill you,” they
replied; “for when you wake your neighbors, you entirely put an end to
our business.”
The safeguards of virtue are hateful to those with evil intentions.
The Dancing Monkeys
A PRINCE had some Monkeys trained to dance. Being naturally great
mimics of men’s actions, they showed themselves most apt pupils, and
when arrayed in their rich clothes and masks, they danced as well as
any of the courtiers. The spectacle was often repeated with great
applause, till on one occasion a courtier, bent on mischief, took from
his pocket a handful of nuts and threw them upon the stage. The Monkeys
at the sight of the nuts forgot their dancing and became (as indeed
they were) Monkeys instead of actors. Pulling off their masks and
tearing their robes, they fought with one another for the nuts. The
dancing spectacle thus came to an end amidst the laughter and ridicule
of the audience.
The Farmer and the Fox
A FARMER, who bore a grudge against a Fox for robbing his poultry yard,
caught him at last, and being determined to take an ample revenge, tied
some rope well soaked in oil to his tail, and set it on fire. The Fox
by a strange fatality rushed to the fields of the Farmer who had
captured him. It was the time of the wheat harvest; but the Farmer
reaped nothing that year and returned home grieving sorely.
The Traveler and Fortune
A TRAVELER wearied from a long journey lay down, overcome with fatigue,
on the very brink of a deep well. Just as he was about to fall into the
water, Dame Fortune, it is said, appeared to him and waking him from
his slumber thus addressed him: “Good Sir, pray wake up: for if you
fall into the well, the blame will be thrown on me, and I shall get an
ill name among mortals; for I find that men are sure to impute their
calamities to me, however much by their own folly they have really
brought them on themselves.”
Everyone is more or less master of his own fate.
The Seagull and the Kite
A SEAGULL having bolted down too large a fish, burst its deep
gullet-bag and lay down on the shore to die. A Kite saw him and
exclaimed: “You richly deserve your fate; for a bird of the air has no
business to seek its food from the sea.”
Every man should be content to mind his own business.
The Lion, the Bear, and the Fox
A LION and a Bear seized a Kid at the same moment, and fought fiercely
for its possession. When they had fearfully lacerated each other and
were faint from the long combat, they lay down exhausted with fatigue.
A Fox, who had gone round them at a distance several times, saw them
both stretched on the ground with the Kid lying untouched in the
middle. He ran in between them, and seizing the Kid scampered off as
fast as he could. The Lion and the Bear saw him, but not being able to
get up, said, “Woe be to us, that we should have fought and belabored
ourselves only to serve the turn of a Fox.”
It sometimes happens that one man has all the toil, and another all the
profit.
The Philosopher, the Ants, and Mercury
A PHILOSOPHER witnessed from the shore the shipwreck of a vessel, of
which the crew and passengers were all drowned. He inveighed against
the injustice of Providence, which would for the sake of one criminal
perchance sailing in the ship allow so many innocent persons to perish.
As he was indulging in these reflections, he found himself surrounded
by a whole army of Ants, near whose nest he was standing. One of them
climbed up and stung him, and he immediately trampled them all to death
with his foot. Mercury presented himself, and striking the Philosopher
with his wand, said, “And are you indeed to make yourself a judge of
the dealings of Providence, who hast thyself in a similar manner
treated these poor Ants?”
The Peasant and the Eagle
A PEASANT found an Eagle captured in a trap, and much admiring the
bird, set him free. The Eagle did not prove ungrateful to his
deliverer, for seeing the Peasant sitting under a wall which was not
safe, he flew toward him and with his talons snatched a bundle from his
head. When the Peasant rose in pursuit, the Eagle let the bundle fall
again. Taking it up, the man returned to the same place, to find that
the wall under which he had been sitting had fallen to pieces; and he
marveled at the service rendered him by the Eagle.
The Fox and the Leopard
THE FOX and the Leopard disputed which was the more beautiful of the
two. The Leopard exhibited one by one the various spots which decorated
his skin. But the Fox, interrupting him, said, “And how much more
beautiful than you am I, who am decorated, not in body, but in mind.”
The Lion and the Hare
A LION came across a Hare, who was fast asleep. He was just in the act
of seizing her, when a fine young Hart trotted by, and he left the Hare
to follow him. The Hare, scared by the noise, awoke and scudded away.
The Lion was unable after a long chase to catch the Hart, and returned
to feed upon the Hare. On finding that the Hare also had run off, he
said, “I am rightly served, for having let go of the food that I had in
my hand for the chance of obtaining more.”
The Image of Mercury and the Carpenter
A VERY POOR MAN, a Carpenter by trade, had a wooden image of Mercury,
before which he made offerings day by day, and begged the idol to make
him rich, but in spite of his entreaties he became poorer and poorer.
At last, being very angry, he took his image down from its pedestal and
dashed it against the wall. When its head was knocked off, out came a
stream of gold, which the Carpenter quickly picked up and said, “Well,
I think thou art altogether contradictory and unreasonable; for when I
paid you honour, I reaped no benefits: but now that I maltreat you I am
loaded with an abundance of riches.”
The Lion, the Fox, and the Ass
THE LION, the Fox and the Ass entered into an agreement to assist each
other in the chase. Having secured a large booty, the Lion on their
return from the forest asked the Ass to allot his due portion to each
of the three partners in the treaty. The Ass carefully divided the
spoil into three equal shares and modestly requested the two others to
make the first choice. The Lion, bursting out into a great rage,
devoured the Ass. Then he requested the Fox to do him the favour to
make a division. The Fox accumulated all that they had killed into one
large heap and left to himself the smallest possible morsel. The Lion
said, “Who has taught you, my very excellent fellow, the art of
division? You are perfect to a fraction.” He replied, “I learned it
from the Ass, by witnessing his fate.”
Happy is the man who learns from the misfortunes of others.
The Bull and the Goat
A BULL, escaping from a Lion, hid in a cave which some shepherds had
recently occupied. As soon as he entered, a He-Goat left in the cave
sharply attacked him with his horns. The Bull quietly addressed him:
“Butt away as much as you will. I have no fear of you, but of the Lion.
Let that monster go away and I will soon let you know what is the
respective strength of a Goat and a Bull.”
It shows an evil disposition to take advantage of a friend in distress.
The Bald Knight
A BALD KNIGHT, who wore a wig, went out to hunt. A sudden puff of wind
blew off his hat and wig, at which a loud laugh rang forth from his
companions. He pulled up his horse, and with great glee joined in the
joke by saying, “What a marvel it is that hairs which are not mine
should fly from me, when they have forsaken even the man on whose head
they grew.”
The Oaks and Jupiter
THE OAKS presented a complaint to Jupiter, saying, “We bear for no
purpose the burden of life, as of all the trees that grow we are the
most continually in peril of the axe.” Jupiter made answer: “You have
only to thank yourselves for the misfortunes to which you are exposed:
for if you did not make such excellent pillars and posts, and prove
yourselves so serviceable to the carpenters and the farmers, the axe
would not so frequently be laid to your roots.”
The Monkeys and Their Mother
THE MONKEY, it is said, has two young ones at each birth. The Mother
fondles one and nurtures it with the greatest affection and care, but
hates and neglects the other. It happened once that the young one which
was caressed and loved was smothered by the too great affection of the
Mother, while the despised one was nurtured and reared in spite of the
neglect to which it was exposed.
The best intentions will not always ensure success.
The Hare and the Hound
A HOUND started a Hare from his lair, but after a long run, gave up the
chase. A goat-herd seeing him stop, mocked him, saying “The little one
is the best runner of the two.” The Hound replied, “You do not see the
difference between us: I was only running for a dinner, but he for his
life.”
The Shepherd and the Dog
A SHEPHERD penning his sheep in the fold for the night was about to
shut up a wolf with them, when his Dog perceiving the wolf said,
“Master, how can you expect the sheep to be safe if you admit a wolf
into the fold?”
The Oak and the Woodcutters
THE WOODCUTTER cut down a Mountain Oak and split it in pieces, making
wedges of its own branches for dividing the trunk. The Oak said with a
sigh, “I do not care about the blows of the axe aimed at my roots, but
I do grieve at being torn in pieces by these wedges made from my own
branches.”
Misfortunes springing from ourselves are the hardest to bear.
The Wasp and the Snake
A WASP seated himself upon the head of a Snake and, striking him
unceasingly with his stings, wounded him to death. The Snake, being in
great torment and not knowing how to rid himself of his enemy, saw a
wagon heavily laden with wood, and went and purposely placed his head
under the wheels, saying, “At least my enemy and I shall perish
together.”
The Peacock and the Crane
A PEACOCK spreading its gorgeous tail mocked a Crane that passed by,
ridiculing the ashen hue of its plumage and saying, “I am robed, like a
king, in gold and purple and all the colors of the rainbow; while you
have not a bit of color on your wings.” “True,” replied the Crane; “but
I soar to the heights of heaven and lift up my voice to the stars,
while you walk below, like a cock, among the birds of the dunghill.”
Fine feathers don’t make fine birds.
The Hen and the Golden Eggs
A COTTAGER and his wife had a Hen that laid a golden egg every day.
They supposed that the Hen must contain a great lump of gold in its
inside, and in order to get the gold they killed it. Having done so,
they found to their surprise that the Hen differed in no respect from
their other hens. The foolish pair, thus hoping to become rich all at
once, deprived themselves of the gain of which they were assured day by
day.
The Ass and the Frogs
AN ASS, carrying a load of wood, passed through a pond. As he was
crossing through the water he lost his footing, stumbled and fell, and
not being able to rise on account of his load, groaned heavily. Some
Frogs frequenting the pool heard his lamentation, and said, “What would
you do if you had to live here always as we do, when you make such a
fuss about a mere fall into the water?”
Men often bear little grievances with less courage than they do large
misfortunes.
The Crow and the Raven
A CROW was jealous of the Raven, because he was considered a bird of
good omen and always attracted the attention of men, who noted by his
flight the good or evil course of future events. Seeing some travelers
approaching, the Crow flew up into a tree, and perching herself on one
of the branches, cawed as loudly as she could. The travelers turned
towards the sound and wondered what it foreboded, when one of them said
to his companion, “Let us proceed on our journey, my friend, for it is
only the caw of a crow, and her cry, you know, is no omen.”
Those who assume a character which does not belong to them, only make
themselves ridiculous.
The Trees and the Axe
A MAN came into a forest and asked the Trees to provide him a handle
for his axe. The Trees consented to his request and gave him a young
ash-tree. No sooner had the man fitted a new handle to his axe from it,
than he began to use it and quickly felled with his strokes the noblest
giants of the forest. An old oak, lamenting when too late the
destruction of his companions, said to a neighboring cedar, “The first
step has lost us all. If we had not given up the rights of the ash, we
might yet have retained our own privileges and have stood for ages.”
The Wolves and the Sheepdogs
THE WOLVES thus addressed the Sheepdogs: “Why should you, who are like
us in so many things, not be entirely of one mind with us, and live
with us as brothers should? We differ from you in one point only. We
live in freedom, but you bow down to and slave for men, who in return
for your services flog you with whips and put collars on your necks.
They make you also guard their sheep, and while they eat the mutton
throw only the bones to you. If you will be persuaded by us, you will
give us the sheep, and we will enjoy them in common, till we all are
surfeited.” The Dogs listened favourably to these proposals, and,
entering the den of the Wolves, they were set upon and torn to pieces.
The Bull, the Lioness, and the Wild-Boar Hunter
A BULL finding a lion’s cub asleep gored him to death with his horns.
The Lioness came up, and bitterly lamented the death of her whelp. A
wild-boar Hunter, seeing her distress, stood at a distance and said to
her, “Think how many men there are who have reason to lament the loss
of their children, whose deaths have been caused by you.”
The Bowman and Lion
A VERY SKILLFUL BOWMAN went to the mountains in search of game, but all
the beasts of the forest fled at his approach. The Lion alone
challenged him to combat. The Bowman immediately shot out an arrow and
said to the Lion: “I send thee my messenger, that from him thou mayest
learn what I myself shall be when I assail thee.” The wounded Lion
rushed away in great fear, and when a Fox who had seen it all happen
told him to be of good courage and not to back off at the first attack
he replied: “You counsel me in vain; for if he sends so fearful a
messenger, how shall I abide the attack of the man himself?”
Be on guard against men who can strike from a distance.
The Camel
WHEN MAN first saw the Camel, he was so frightened at his vast size
that he ran away. After a time, perceiving the meekness and gentleness
of the beast’s temper, he summoned courage enough to approach him. Soon
afterwards, observing that he was an animal altogether deficient in
spirit, he assumed such boldness as to put a bridle in his mouth, and
to let a child drive him.
Use serves to overcome dread.
The Crab and the Fox
A CRAB, forsaking the seashore, chose a neighboring green meadow as its
feeding ground. A Fox came across him, and being very hungry ate him
up. Just as he was on the point of being eaten, the Crab said, “I well
deserve my fate, for what business had I on the land, when by my nature
and habits I am only adapted for the sea?”
Contentment with our lot is an element of happiness.
The Ass and the Old Shepherd
A SHEPHERD, watching his Ass feeding in a meadow, was alarmed all of a
sudden by the cries of the enemy. He appealed to the Ass to fly with
him, lest they should both be captured, but the animal lazily replied,
“Why should I, pray? Do you think it likely the conqueror will place on
me two sets of panniers?” “No,” rejoined the Shepherd. “Then,” said the
Ass, “as long as I carry the panniers, what matters it to me whom I
serve?”
In a change of government the poor change nothing beyond the name of
their master.
The Fox and the Hedgehog
A FOX swimming across a rapid river was carried by the force of the
current into a very deep ravine, where he lay for a long time very much
bruised, sick, and unable to move. A swarm of hungry blood-sucking
flies settled upon him. A Hedgehog, passing by, saw his anguish and
inquired if he should drive away the flies that were tormenting him.
“By no means,” replied the Fox; “pray do not molest them.” “How is
this?” said the Hedgehog; “do you not want to be rid of them?” “No,”
returned the Fox, “for these flies which you see are full of blood, and
sting me but little, and if you rid me of these which are already
satiated, others more hungry will come in their place, and will drink
up all the blood I have left.”
The Woman and Her Hen
A WOMAN possessed a Hen that gave her an egg every day. She often
pondered how she might obtain two eggs daily instead of one, and at
last, to gain her purpose, determined to give the Hen a double
allowance of barley. From that day the Hen became fat and sleek, and
never once laid another egg.
The Kites and the Swans
TEE KITES of olden times, as well as the Swans, had the privilege of
song. But having heard the neigh of the horse, they were so enchanted
with the sound, that they tried to imitate it; and, in trying to neigh,
they forgot how to sing.
The desire for imaginary benefits often involves the loss of present
blessings.
The Dog and the Hare
A HOUND having started a Hare on the hillside pursued her for some
distance, at one time biting her with his teeth as if he would take her
life, and at another fawning upon her, as if in play with another dog.
The Hare said to him, “I wish you would act sincerely by me, and show
yourself in your true colors. If you are a friend, why do you bite me
so hard? If an enemy, why do you fawn on me?”
No one can be a friend if you know not whether to trust or distrust
him.
The Hares and the Foxes
THE HARES waged war with the Eagles, and called upon the Foxes to help
them. They replied, “We would willingly have helped you, if we had not
known who you were, and with whom you were fighting.”
Count the cost before you commit yourselves.
The Bull and the Calf
A BULL was striving with all his might to squeeze himself through a
narrow passage which led to his stall. A young Calf came up, and
offered to go before and show him the way by which he could manage to
pass. “Save yourself the trouble,” said the Bull; “I knew that way long
before you were born.”
The Stag, the Wolf, and the Sheep
A STAG asked a Sheep to lend him a measure of wheat, and said that the
Wolf would be his surety. The Sheep, fearing some fraud was intended,
excused herself, saying, “The Wolf is accustomed to seize what he wants
and to run off; and you, too, can quickly outstrip me in your rapid
flight. How then shall I be able to find you, when the day of payment
comes?”
Two blacks do not make one white.
The Eagle, the Cat, and the Wild Sow
AN EAGLE made her nest at the top of a lofty oak; a Cat, having found a
convenient hole, moved into the middle of the trunk; and a Wild Sow,
with her young, took shelter in a hollow at its foot. The Cat cunningly
resolved to destroy this chance-made colony. To carry out her design,
she climbed to the nest of the Eagle, and said, “Destruction is
preparing for you, and for me too, unfortunately. The Wild Sow, whom
you see daily digging up the earth, wishes to uproot the oak, so she
may on its fall seize our families as food for her young.” Having thus
frightened the Eagle out of her senses, she crept down to the cave of
the Sow, and said, “Your children are in great danger; for as soon as
you go out with your litter to find food, the Eagle is prepared to
pounce upon one of your little pigs.” Having instilled these fears into
the Sow, she went and pretended to hide herself in the hollow of the
tree. When night came she went forth with silent foot and obtained food
for herself and her kittens, but feigning to be afraid, she kept a
lookout all through the day. Meanwhile, the Eagle, full of fear of the
Sow, sat still on the branches, and the Sow, terrified by the Eagle,
did not dare to go out from her cave. And thus they both, along with
their families, perished from hunger, and afforded ample provision for
the Cat and her kittens.
The Wolf and the Fox
AT ONE TIME a very large and strong Wolf was born among the wolves, who
exceeded all his fellow-wolves in strength, size, and swiftness, so
that they unanimously decided to call him “Lion.” The Wolf, with a lack
of sense proportioned to his enormous size, thought that they gave him
this name in earnest, and, leaving his own race, consorted exclusively
with the lions. An old sly Fox, seeing this, said, “May I never make
myself so ridiculous as you do in your pride and self-conceit; for even
though you have the size of a lion among wolves, in a herd of lions you
are definitely a wolf.”
The Mule
A MULE, frolicsome from lack of work and from too much corn, galloped
about in a very extravagant manner, and said to himself: “My father
surely was a high-mettled racer, and I am his own child in speed and
spirit.” On the next day, being driven a long journey, and feeling very
wearied, he exclaimed in a disconsolate tone: “I must have made a
mistake; my father, after all, could have been only an ass.”
The Prophet
A WIZARD, sitting in the marketplace, was telling the fortunes of the
passers-by when a person ran up in great haste, and announced to him
that the doors of his house had been broken open and that all his goods
were being stolen. He sighed heavily and hastened away as fast as he
could run. A neighbor saw him running and said, “Oh! you fellow there!
you say you can foretell the fortunes of others; how is it you did not
foresee your own?”
The Two Frogs
TWO FROGS were neighbors. One inhabited a deep pond, far removed from
public view; the other lived in a gully containing little water, and
traversed by a country road. The Frog that lived in the pond warned his
friend to change his residence and entreated him to come and live with
him, saying that he would enjoy greater safety from danger and more
abundant food. The other refused, saying that he felt it so very hard
to leave a place to which he had become accustomed. A few days
afterwards a heavy wagon passed through the gully and crushed him to
death under its wheels.
A willful man will have his way to his own hurt.
The Serpent and the Eagle
A SERPENT and an Eagle were struggling with each other in deadly
conflict. The Serpent had the advantage, and was about to strangle the
bird. A countryman saw them, and running up, loosed the coil of the
Serpent and let the Eagle go free. The Serpent, irritated at the escape
of his prey, injected his poison into the drinking horn of the
countryman. The rustic, ignorant of his danger, was about to drink,
when the Eagle struck his hand with his wing, and, seizing the drinking
horn in his talons, carried it aloft.
The Crow and the Pitcher
A CROW perishing with thirst saw a pitcher, and hoping to find water,
flew to it with delight. When he reached it, he discovered to his grief
that it contained so little water that he could not possibly get at it.
He tried everything he could think of to reach the water, but all his
efforts were in vain. At last he collected as many stones as he could
carry and dropped them one by one with his beak into the pitcher, until
he brought the water within his reach and thus saved his life.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
The Thief and the Innkeeper
A THIEF hired a room in a tavern and stayed a while in the hope of
stealing something which should enable him to pay his reckoning. When
he had waited some days in vain, he saw the Innkeeper dressed in a new
and handsome coat and sitting before his door. The Thief sat down
beside him and talked with him. As the conversation began to flag, the
Thief yawned terribly and at the same time howled like a wolf. The
Innkeeper said, “Why do you howl so fearfully?” “I will tell you,” said
the Thief, “but first let me ask you to hold my clothes, or I shall
tear them to pieces. I know not, sir, when I got this habit of yawning,
nor whether these attacks of howling were inflicted on me as a judgment
for my crimes, or for any other cause; but this I do know, that when I
yawn for the third time, I actually turn into a wolf and attack men.”
With this speech he commenced a second fit of yawning and again howled
like a wolf, as he had at first. The Innkeeper, hearing his tale and
believing what he said, became greatly alarmed and, rising from his
seat, attempted to run away. The Thief laid hold of his coat and
entreated him to stop, saying, “Pray wait, sir, and hold my clothes, or
I shall tear them to pieces in my fury, when I turn into a wolf.” At
the same moment he yawned the third time and set up a terrible howl.
The Innkeeper, frightened lest he should be attacked, left his new coat
in the Thief’s hand and ran as fast as he could into the inn for
safety. The Thief made off with the coat and did not return again to
the inn.
Every tale is not to be believed.
The Hart and the Vine
A HART, hard pressed in the chase, hid himself beneath the large leaves
of a Vine. The huntsmen, in their haste, overshot the place of his
concealment. Supposing all danger to have passed, the Hart began to
nibble the tendrils of the Vine. One of the huntsmen, attracted by the
rustling of the leaves, looked back, and seeing the Hart, shot an arrow
from his bow and struck it. The Hart, at the point of death, groaned:
“I am rightly served, for I should not have maltreated the Vine that
saved me.”
The Gnat and the Lion
A GNAT came and said to a Lion, “I do not in the least fear you, nor
are you stronger than I am. For in what does your strength consist? You
can scratch with your claws and bite with your teeth an a woman in her
quarrels. I repeat that I am altogether more powerful than you; and if
you doubt it, let us fight and see who will conquer.” The Gnat, having
sounded his horn, fastened himself upon the Lion and stung him on the
nostrils and the parts of the face devoid of hair. While trying to
crush him, the Lion tore himself with his claws, until he punished
himself severely. The Gnat thus prevailed over the Lion, and, buzzing
about in a song of triumph, flew away. But shortly afterwards he became
entangled in the meshes of a cobweb and was eaten by a spider. He
greatly lamented his fate, saying, “Woe is me! that I, who can wage war
successfully with the hugest beasts, should perish myself from this
spider, the most inconsiderable of insects!”
The Fox and the Grapes
A FAMISHED FOX saw some clusters of ripe black grapes hanging from a
trellised vine. She resorted to all her tricks to get at them, but
wearied herself in vain, for she could not reach them. At last she
turned away, hiding her disappointment and saying: “The Grapes are
sour, and not ripe as I thought.”
The Walnut-Tree
A WALNUT TREE standing by the roadside bore an abundant crop of fruit.
For the sake of the nuts, the passers-by broke its branches with stones
and sticks. The Walnut-Tree piteously exclaimed, “O wretched me! that
those whom I cheer with my fruit should repay me with these painful
requitals!”
The Kid and the Wolf
A KID, returning without protection from the pasture, was pursued by a
Wolf. Seeing he could not escape, he turned round, and said: “I know,
friend Wolf, that I must be your prey, but before I die I would ask of
you one favour you will play me a tune to which I may dance.” The Wolf
complied, and while he was piping and the Kid was dancing, some hounds
hearing the sound ran up and began chasing the Wolf. Turning to the
Kid, he said, “It is just what I deserve; for I, who am only a butcher,
should not have turned piper to please you.”
The Monkey and the Dolphin
A SAILOR, bound on a long voyage, took with him a Monkey to amuse him
while on shipboard. As he sailed off the coast of Greece, a violent
tempest arose in which the ship was wrecked and he, his Monkey, and all
the crew were obliged to swim for their lives. A Dolphin saw the Monkey
contending with the waves, and supposing him to be a man (whom he is
always said to befriend), came and placed himself under him, to convey
him on his back in safety to the shore. When the Dolphin arrived with
his burden in sight of land not far from Athens, he asked the Monkey if
he were an Athenian. The latter replied that he was, and that he was
descended from one of the most noble families in that city. The Dolphin
then inquired if he knew the Piræus (the famous harbor of Athens).
Supposing that a man was meant, the Monkey answered that he knew him
very well and that he was an intimate friend. The Dolphin, indignant at
these falsehoods, dipped the Monkey under the water and drowned him.
The Horse and the Stag
AT ONE TIME the Horse had the plain entirely to himself. Then a Stag
intruded into his domain and shared his pasture. The Horse, desiring to
revenge himself on the stranger, asked a man if he were willing to help
him in punishing the Stag. The man replied that if the Horse would
receive a bit in his mouth and agree to carry him, he would contrive
effective weapons against the Stag. The Horse consented and allowed the
man to mount him. From that hour he found that instead of obtaining
revenge on the Stag, he had enslaved himself to the service of man.
The Jackdaw and the Doves
A JACKDAW, seeing some Doves in a cote abundantly provided with food,
painted himself white and joined them in order to share their plentiful
maintenance. The Doves, as long as he was silent, supposed him to be
one of themselves and admitted him to their cote. But when one day he
forgot himself and began to chatter, they discovered his true character
and drove him forth, pecking him with their beaks. Failing to obtain
food among the Doves, he returned to the Jackdaws. They too, not
recognizing him on account of his color, expelled him from living with
them. So desiring two ends, he obtained neither.
The Fox and the Monkey
A FOX and a Monkey were traveling together on the same road. As they
journeyed, they passed through a cemetery full of monuments. “All these
monuments which you see,” said the Monkey, “are erected in honour of my
ancestors, who were in their day freedmen and citizens of great
renown.” The Fox replied, “You have chosen a most appropriate subject
for your falsehoods, as I am sure none of your ancestors will be able
to contradict you.”
A false tale often betrays itself.
The Man and His Wife
A MAN had a Wife who made herself hated by all the members of his
household. Wishing to find out if she had the same effect on the
persons in her father’s house, he made some excuse to send her home on
a visit to her father. After a short time she returned, and when he
inquired how she had got on and how the servants had treated her, she
replied, “The herdsmen and shepherds cast on me looks of aversion.” He
said, “O Wife, if you were disliked by those who go out early in the
morning with their flocks and return late in the evening, what must
have been felt towards you by those with whom you passed the whole
day!”
Straws show how the wind blows.
The Man, the Horse, the Ox, and the Dog
A HORSE, Ox, and Dog, driven to great straits by the cold, sought
shelter and protection from Man. He received them kindly, lighted a
fire, and warmed them. He let the Horse make free with his oats, gave
the Ox an abundance of hay, and fed the Dog with meat from his own
table. Grateful for these favours, the animals determined to repay him
to the best of their ability. For this purpose, they divided the term
of his life between them, and each endowed one portion of it with the
qualities which chiefly characterized himself. The Horse chose his
earliest years and gave them his own attributes: hence every man is in
his youth impetuous, headstrong, and obstinate in maintaining his own
opinion. The Ox took under his patronage the next term of life, and
therefore man in his middle age is fond of work, devoted to labor, and
resolute to amass wealth and to husband his resources. The end of life
was reserved for the Dog, wherefore the old man is often snappish,
irritable, hard to please, and selfish, tolerant only of his own
household, but averse to strangers and to all who do not administer to
his comfort or to his necessities.
The Thief and the Housedog
A THIEF came in the night to break into a house. He brought with him
several slices of meat in order to pacify the Housedog, so that he
would not alarm his master by barking. As the Thief threw him the
pieces of meat, the Dog said, “If you think to stop my mouth, you will
be greatly mistaken. This sudden kindness at your hands will only make
me more watchful, lest under these unexpected favours to myself, you
have some private ends to accomplish for your own benefit, and for my
master’s injury.”
The Apes and the Two Travelers
TWO MEN, one who always spoke the truth and the other who told nothing
but lies, were traveling together and by chance came to the land of
Apes. One of the Apes, who had raised himself to be king, commanded
them to be seized and brought before him, that he might know what was
said of him among men. He ordered at the same time that all the Apes be
arranged in a long row on his right hand and on his left, and that a
throne be placed for him, as was the custom among men. After these
preparations he signified that the two men should be brought before
him, and greeted them with this salutation: “What sort of a king do I
seem to you to be, O strangers?” The Lying Traveler replied, “You seem
to me a most mighty king.” “And what is your estimate of those you see
around me?” “These,” he made answer, “are worthy companions of
yourself, fit at least to be ambassadors and leaders of armies.” The
Ape and all his court, gratified with the lie, commanded that a
handsome present be given to the flatterer. On this the truthful
Traveler thought to himself, “If so great a reward be given for a lie,
with what gift may not I be rewarded, if, according to my custom, I
tell the truth?” The Ape quickly turned to him. “And pray how do I and
these my friends around me seem to you?” “Thou art,” he said, “a most
excellent Ape, and all these thy companions after thy example are
excellent Apes too.” The King of the Apes, enraged at hearing these
truths, gave him over to the teeth and claws of his companions.
The Fox and the Lion
WHEN A FOX who had never yet seen a Lion, fell in with him by chance
for the first time in the forest, he was so frightened that he nearly
died with fear. On meeting him for the second time, he was still much
alarmed, but not to the same extent as at first. On seeing him the
third time, he so increased in boldness that he went up to him and
commenced a familiar conversation with him.
Acquaintance softens prejudices.
The Weasel and the Mice
A WEASEL, inactive from age and infirmities, was not able to catch mice
as he once did. He therefore rolled himself in flour and lay down in a
dark corner. A Mouse, supposing him to be food, leaped upon him, and
was instantly caught and squeezed to death. Another perished in a
similar manner, and then a third, and still others after them. A very
old Mouse, who had escaped many a trap and snare, observed from a safe
distance the trick of his crafty foe and said, “Ah! you that lie there,
may you prosper just in the same proportion as you are what you pretend
to be!”
The Boy Bathing
A BOY bathing in a river was in danger of being drowned. He called out
to a passing traveler for help, but instead of holding out a helping
hand, the man stood by unconcernedly, and scolded the boy for his
imprudence. “Oh, sir!” cried the youth, “pray help me now and scold me
afterwards.”
Counsel without help is useless.
The Peacock and Juno
THE PEACOCK made complaint to Juno that, while the nightingale pleased
every ear with his song, he himself no sooner opened his mouth than he
became a laughingstock to all who heard him. The Goddess, to console
him, said, “But you far excel in beauty and in size. The splendor of
the emerald shines in your neck and you unfold a tail gorgeous with
painted plumage.” “But for what purpose have I,” said the bird, “this
dumb beauty so long as I am surpassed in song?” “The lot of each,”
replied Juno, “has been assigned by the will of the Fates—to thee,
beauty; to the eagle, strength; to the nightingale, song; to the raven,
favourable, and to the crow, unfavourable auguries. These are all
contented with the endowments allotted to them.”
The Wolf and the Shepherd
A WOLF followed a flock of sheep for a long time and did not attempt to
injure one of them. The Shepherd at first stood on his guard against
him, as against an enemy, and kept a strict watch over his movements.
But when the Wolf, day after day, kept in the company of the sheep and
did not make the slightest effort to seize them, the Shepherd began to
look upon him as a guardian of his flock rather than as a plotter of
evil against it; and when occasion called him one day into the city, he
left the sheep entirely in his charge. The Wolf, now that he had the
opportunity, fell upon the sheep, and destroyed the greater part of the
flock. When the Shepherd returned to find his flock destroyed, he
exclaimed: “I have been rightly served; why did I trust my sheep to a
Wolf?”
The Hares and the Lions
THE HARES harangued the assembly, and argued that all should be equal.
The Lions made this reply: “Your words, O Hares! are good; but they
lack both claws and teeth such as we have.”
The Seller of Images
A CERTAIN MAN made a wooden image of Mercury and offered it for sale.
When no one appeared willing to buy it, in order to attract purchasers,
he cried out that he had the statue to sell of a benefactor who
bestowed wealth and helped to heap up riches. One of the bystanders
said to him, “My good fellow, why do you sell him, being such a one as
you describe, when you may yourself enjoy the good things he has to
give?” “Why,” he replied, “I am in need of immediate help, and he is
wont to give his good gifts very slowly.”
The Hawk and the Nightingale
A NIGHTINGALE, sitting aloft upon an oak and singing according to his
wont, was seen by a Hawk who, being in need of food, swooped down and
seized him. The Nightingale, about to lose his life, earnestly begged
the Hawk to let him go, saying that he was not big enough to satisfy
the hunger of a Hawk who, if he wanted food, ought to pursue the larger
birds. The Hawk, interrupting him, said: “I should indeed have lost my
senses if I should let go food ready in my hand, for the sake of
pursuing birds which are not yet even within sight.”
The Lark and Her Young Ones
A LARK had made her nest in the early spring on the young green wheat.
The brood had almost grown to their full strength and attained the use
of their wings and the full plumage of their feathers, when the owner
of the field, looking over his ripe crop, said, “The time has come when
I must ask all my neighbors to help me with my harvest.” One of the
young Larks heard his speech and related it to his mother, inquiring of
her to what place they should move for safety. “There is no occasion to
move yet, my son,” she replied; “the man who only sends to his friends
to help him with his harvest is not really in earnest.” The owner of
the field came again a few days later and saw the wheat shedding the
grain from excess of ripeness. He said, “I will come myself tomorrow
with my laborers, and with as many reapers as I can hire, and will get
in the harvest.” The Lark on hearing these words said to her brood, “It
is time now to be off, my little ones, for the man is in earnest this
time; he no longer trusts his friends, but will reap the field
himself.”
Self-help is the best help.
The Dog, the Cock, and the Fox
A DOG and a Cock being great friends, agreed to travel together. At
nightfall they took shelter in a thick wood. The Cock flying up,
perched himself on the branches of a tree, while the Dog found a bed
beneath in the hollow trunk. When the morning dawned, the Cock, as
usual, crowed very loudly several times. A Fox heard the sound, and
wishing to make a breakfast on him, came and stood under the branches,
saying how earnestly he desired to make the acquaintance of the owner
of so magnificent a voice. The Cock, suspecting his civilities, said:
“Sir, I wish you would do me the favour of going around to the hollow
trunk below me, and waking my porter, so that he may open the door and
let you in.” When the Fox approached the tree, the Dog sprang out and
caught him, and tore him to pieces.
The Geese and the Cranes
THE GEESE and the Cranes were feeding in the same meadow, when a
birdcatcher came to ensnare them in his nets. The Cranes, being light
of wing, fled away at his approach; while the Geese, being slower of
flight and heavier in their bodies, were captured.
The Ass and the Wolf
AN ASS feeding in a meadow saw a Wolf approaching to seize him, and
immediately pretended to be lame. The Wolf, coming up, inquired the
cause of his lameness. The Ass replied that passing through a hedge he
had trod with his foot upon a sharp thorn. He requested that the Wolf
pull it out, lest when he ate him it should injure his throat. The Wolf
consented and lifted up the foot, and was giving his whole mind to the
discovery of the thorn, when the Ass, with his heels, kicked his teeth
into his mouth and galloped away. The Wolf, being thus fearfully
mauled, said, “I am rightly served, for why did I attempt the art of
healing, when my father only taught me the trade of a butcher?”
The Goat and the Ass
A MAN once kept a Goat and an Ass. The Goat, envying the Ass on account
of his greater abundance of food, said, “How shamefully you are
treated: at one time grinding in the mill, and at another carrying
heavy burdens;” and he further advised him to pretend to be epileptic
and fall into a ditch and so obtain rest. The Ass listened to his
words, and falling into a ditch, was very much bruised. His master,
sending for a leech, asked his advice. He bade him pour upon the wounds
the lungs of a Goat. They at once killed the Goat, and so healed the
Ass.
The Lion and the Bull
A LION, greatly desiring to capture a Bull, and yet afraid to attack
him on account of his great size, resorted to a trick to ensure his
destruction. He approached the Bull and said, “I have slain a fine
sheep, my friend; and if you will come home and partake of him with me,
I shall be delighted to have your company.” The Lion said this in the
hope that, as the Bull was in the act of reclining to eat, he might
attack him to advantage, and make his meal on him. The Bull, on
approaching the Lion’s den, saw the huge spits and giant caldrons, and
no sign whatever of the sheep, and, without saying a word, quietly took
his departure. The Lion inquired why he went off so abruptly without a
word of salutation to his host, who had not given him any cause for
offense. “I have reasons enough,” said the Bull. “I see no indication
whatever of your having slaughtered a sheep, while I do see very
plainly every preparation for your dining on a bull.”
The Fox and the Mask
A FOX entered the house of an actor and, rummaging through all his
properties, came upon a Mask, an admirable imitation of a human head.
He placed his paws on it and said, “What a beautiful head! Yet it is of
no value, as it entirely lacks brains.”
The Grasshopper and the Owl
AN OWL, accustomed to feed at night and to sleep during the day, was
greatly disturbed by the noise of a Grasshopper and earnestly besought
her to stop chirping. The Grasshopper refused to desist, and chirped
louder and louder the more the Owl entreated. When she saw that she
could get no redress and that her words were despised, the Owl attacked
the chatterer by a stratagem. “Since I cannot sleep,” she said, “on
account of your song which, believe me, is sweet as the lyre of Apollo,
I shall indulge myself in drinking some nectar which Pallas lately gave
me. If you do not dislike it, come to me and we will drink it
together.” The Grasshopper, who was thirsty, and pleased with the
praise of her voice, eagerly flew up. The Owl came forth from her
hollow, seized her, and put her to death.
The Fowler and the Viper
A FOWLER, taking his bird-lime and his twigs, went out to catch birds.
Seeing a thrush sitting upon a tree, he wished to take it, and fitting
his twigs to a proper length, watched intently, having his whole
thoughts directed towards the sky. While thus looking upwards, he
unknowingly trod upon a Viper asleep just before his feet. The Viper,
turning about, stung him, and falling into a swoon, the man said to
himself, “Woe is me! that while I purposed to hunt another, I am myself
fallen unawares into the snares of death.”
The Horse and the Ass
A HORSE, proud of his fine trappings, met an Ass on the highway. The
Ass, being heavily laden, moved slowly out of the way. “Hardly,” said
the Horse, “can I resist kicking you with my heels.” The Ass held his
peace, and made only a silent appeal to the justice of the gods. Not
long afterwards the Horse, having become broken-winded, was sent by his
owner to the farm. The Ass, seeing him drawing a dungcart, thus derided
him: “Where, O boaster, are now all thy gay trappings, thou who are
thyself reduced to the condition you so lately treated with contempt?”
The Lion and the Three Bulls
THREE BULLS for a long time pastured together. A Lion lay in ambush in
the hope of making them his prey, but was afraid to attack them while
they kept together. Having at last by guileful speeches succeeded in
separating them, he attacked them without fear as they fed alone, and
feasted on them one by one at his own leisure.
Union is strength.
The Wolf and the Goat
A WOLF saw a Goat feeding at the summit of a steep precipice, where he
had no chance of reaching her. He called to her and earnestly begged
her to come lower down, lest she fall by some mishap; and he added that
the meadows lay where he was standing, and that the herbage was most
tender. She replied, “No, my friend, it is not for the pasture that you
invite me, but for yourself, who are in want of food.”
The Fly and the Draught-Mule
A FLY sat on the axle-tree of a chariot, and addressing the
Draught-Mule said, “How slow you are! Why do you not go faster? See if
I do not prick your neck with my sting.” The Draught-Mule replied, “I
do not heed your threats; I only care for him who sits above you, and
who quickens my pace with his whip, or holds me back with the reins.
Away, therefore, with your insolence, for I know well when to go fast,
and when to go slow.”
The Fishermen
SOME FISHERMEN were out trawling their nets. Perceiving them to be very
heavy, they danced about for joy and supposed that they had taken a
large catch. When they had dragged the nets to the shore they found but
few fish: the nets were full of sand and stones, and the men were
beyond measure cast down so much at the disappointment which had
befallen them, but because they had formed such very different
expectations. One of their company, an old man, said, “Let us cease
lamenting, my mates, for, as it seems to me, sorrow is always the twin
sister of joy; and it was only to be looked for that we, who just now
were over-rejoiced, should next have something to make us sad.”
The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse
A COUNTRY MOUSE invited a Town Mouse, an intimate friend, to pay him a
visit and partake of his country fare. As they were on the bare
plowlands, eating there wheat-stocks and roots pulled up from the
hedgerow, the Town Mouse said to his friend, “You live here the life of
the ants, while in my house is the horn of plenty. I am surrounded by
every luxury, and if you will come with me, as I wish you would, you
shall have an ample share of my dainties.” The Country Mouse was easily
persuaded, and returned to town with his friend. On his arrival, the
Town Mouse placed before him bread, barley, beans, dried figs, honey,
raisins, and, last of all, brought a dainty piece of cheese from a
basket. The Country Mouse, being much delighted at the sight of such
good cheer, expressed his satisfaction in warm terms and lamented his
own hard fate. Just as they were beginning to eat, someone opened the
door, and they both ran off squeaking, as fast as they could, to a hole
so narrow that two could only find room in it by squeezing. They had
scarcely begun their repast again when someone else entered to take
something out of a cupboard, whereupon the two Mice, more frightened
than before, ran away and hid themselves. At last the Country Mouse,
almost famished, said to his friend: “Although you have prepared for me
so dainty a feast, I must leave you to enjoy it by yourself. It is
surrounded by too many dangers to please me. I prefer my bare plowlands
and roots from the hedgerow, where I can live in safety, and without
fear.”
The Wolf, the Fox, and the Ape
A WOLF accused a Fox of theft, but the Fox entirely denied the charge.
An Ape undertook to adjudge the matter between them. When each had
fully stated his case the Ape announced this sentence: “I do not think
you, Wolf, ever lost what you claim; and I do believe you, Fox, to have
stolen what you so stoutly deny.”
The dishonest, if they act honestly, get no credit.
The Wasps, the Partridges, and the Farmer
THE WASPS and the Partridges, overcome with thirst, came to a Farmer
and besought him to give them some water to drink. They promised amply
to repay him the favour which they asked. The Partridges declared that
they would dig around his vines and make them produce finer grapes. The
Wasps said that they would keep guard and drive off thieves with their
stings. But the Farmer interrupted them, saying: “I have already two
oxen, who, without making any promises, do all these things. It is
surely better for me to give the water to them than to you.”
The Brother and the Sister
A FATHER had one son and one daughter, the former remarkable for his
good looks, the latter for her extraordinary ugliness. While they were
playing one day as children, they happened by chance to look together
into a mirror that was placed on their mother’s chair. The boy
congratulated himself on his good looks; the girl grew angry, and could
not bear the self-praises of her Brother, interpreting all he said (and
how could she do otherwise?) into reflection on herself. She ran off to
her father, to be avenged on her Brother, and spitefully accused him of
having, as a boy, made use of that which belonged only to girls. The
father embraced them both, and bestowing his kisses and affection
impartially on each, said, “I wish you both would look into the mirror
every day: you, my son, that you may not spoil your beauty by evil
conduct; and you, my daughter, that you may make up for your lack of
beauty by your virtues.”
The Dogs and the Fox
SOME DOGS, finding the skin of a lion, began to tear it in pieces with
their teeth. A Fox, seeing them, said, “If this lion were alive, you
would soon find out that his claws were stronger than your teeth.”
It is easy to kick a man that is down.
The Blind Man and the Whelp
A BLIND MAN was accustomed to distinguishing different animals by
touching them with his hands. The whelp of a Wolf was brought him, with
a request that he would feel it, and say what it was. He felt it, and
being in doubt, said: “I do not quite know whether it is the cub of a
Fox, or the whelp of a Wolf, but this I know full well. It would not be
safe to admit him to the sheepfold.”
Evil tendencies are shown in early life.
The Cobbler Turned Doctor
A COBBLER unable to make a living by his trade and made desperate by
poverty, began to practice medicine in a town in which he was not
known. He sold a drug, pretending that it was an antidote to all
poisons, and obtained a great name for himself by long-winded puffs and
advertisements. When the Cobbler happened to fall sick himself of a
serious illness, the Governor of the town determined to test his skill.
For this purpose he called for a cup, and while filling it with water,
pretended to mix poison with the Cobbler’s antidote, commanding him to
drink it on the promise of a reward. The Cobbler, under the fear of
death, confessed that he had no knowledge of medicine, and was only
made famous by the stupid clamors of the crowd. The Governor then
called a public assembly and addressed the citizens: “Of what folly
have you been guilty? You have not hesitated to entrust your heads to a
man, whom no one could employ to make even the shoes for their feet.”
The Wolf and the Horse
A WOLF coming out of a field of oats met a Horse and thus addressed
him: “I would advise you to go into that field. It is full of fine
oats, which I have left untouched for you, as you are a friend whom I
would love to hear enjoying good eating.” The Horse replied, “If oats
had been the food of wolves, you would never have indulged your ears at
the cost of your belly.”
Men of evil reputation, when they perform a good deed, fail to get
credit for it.
The Two Men Who Were Enemies
TWO MEN, deadly enemies to each other, were sailing in the same vessel.
Determined to keep as far apart as possible, the one seated himself in
the stem, and the other in the prow of the ship. A violent storm arose,
and with the vessel in great danger of sinking, the one in the stern
inquired of the pilot which of the two ends of the ship would go down
first. On his replying that he supposed it would be the prow, the Man
said, “Death would not be grievous to me, if I could only see my Enemy
die before me.”
The Gamecocks and the Partridge
A MAN had two Gamecocks in his poultry-yard. One day by chance he found
a tame Partridge for sale. He purchased it and brought it home to be
reared with his Gamecocks. When the Partridge was put into the
poultry-yard, they struck at it and followed it about, so that the
Partridge became grievously troubled and supposed that he was thus
evilly treated because he was a stranger. Not long afterwards he saw
the Cocks fighting together and not separating before one had well
beaten the other. He then said to himself, “I shall no longer distress
myself at being struck at by these Gamecocks, when I see that they
cannot even refrain from quarreling with each other.”
The Fox and the Lion
A FOX saw a Lion confined in a cage, and standing near him, bitterly
reviled him. The Lion said to the Fox, “It is not thou who revilest me;
but this mischance which has befallen me.”
The Quack Frog
A FROG once upon a time came forth from his home in the marsh and
proclaimed to all the beasts that he was a learned physician, skilled
in the use of drugs and able to heal all diseases. A Fox asked him,
“How can you pretend to prescribe for others, when you are unable to
heal your own lame gait and wrinkled skin?”
The Lion, the Wolf, and the Fox
A LION, growing old, lay sick in his cave. All the beasts came to visit
their king, except the Fox. The Wolf therefore, thinking that he had a
capital opportunity, accused the Fox to the Lion of not paying any
respect to him who had the rule over them all and of not coming to
visit him. At that very moment the Fox came in and heard these last
words of the Wolf. The Lion roaring out in a rage against him, the Fox
sought an opportunity to defend himself and said, “And who of all those
who have come to you have benefited you so much as I, who have traveled
from place to place in every direction, and have sought and learnt from
the physicians the means of healing you?” The Lion commanded him
immediately to tell him the cure, when he replied, “You must flay a
wolf alive and wrap his skin yet warm around you.” The Wolf was at once
taken and flayed; whereon the Fox, turning to him, said with a smile,
“You should have moved your master not to ill, but to good, will.”
The Dog’s House
IN THE WINTERTIME, a Dog curled up in as small a space as possible on
account of the cold, determined to make himself a house. However when
the summer returned again, he lay asleep stretched at his full length
and appeared to himself to be of a great size. Now he considered that
it would be neither an easy nor a necessary work to make himself such a
house as would accommodate him.
The North Wind and the Sun
THE NORTH WIND and the Sun disputed as to which was the most powerful,
and agreed that he should be declared the victor who could first strip
a wayfaring man of his clothes. The North Wind first tried his power
and blew with all his might, but the keener his blasts, the closer the
Traveler wrapped his cloak around him, until at last, resigning all
hope of victory, the Wind called upon the Sun to see what he could do.
The Sun suddenly shone out with all his warmth. The Traveler no sooner
felt his genial rays than he took off one garment after another, and at
last, fairly overcome with heat, undressed and bathed in a stream that
lay in his path.
Persuasion is better than Force.
The Crow and Mercury
A CROW caught in a snare prayed to Apollo to release him, making a vow
to offer some frankincense at his shrine. But when rescued from his
danger, he forgot his promise. Shortly afterwards, again caught in a
snare, he passed by Apollo and made the same promise to offer
frankincense to Mercury. Mercury soon appeared and said to him, “O thou
most base fellow? how can I believe thee, who hast disowned and wronged
thy former patron?”
The Fox and the Crane
A FOX invited a Crane to supper and provided nothing for his
entertainment but some soup made of pulse, which was poured out into a
broad flat stone dish. The soup fell out of the long bill of the Crane
at every mouthful, and his vexation at not being able to eat afforded
the Fox much amusement. The Crane, in his turn, asked the Fox to sup
with him, and set before her a flagon with a long narrow mouth, so that
he could easily insert his neck and enjoy its contents at his leisure.
The Fox, unable even to taste it, met with a fitting requital, after
the fashion of her own hospitality.
The Wolf and the Lion
ROAMING BY the mountainside at sundown, a Wolf saw his own shadow
become greatly extended and magnified, and he said to himself, “Why
should I, being of such an immense size and extending nearly an acre in
length, be afraid of the Lion? Ought I not to be acknowledged as King
of all the collected beasts?” While he was indulging in these proud
thoughts, a Lion fell upon him and killed him. He exclaimed with a too
late repentance, “Wretched me! this overestimation of myself is the
cause of my destruction.”
The Birds, the Beasts, and the Bat
THE BIRDS waged war with the Beasts, and each were by turns the
conquerors. A Bat, fearing the uncertain issues of the fight, always
fought on the side which he felt was the strongest. When peace was
proclaimed, his deceitful conduct was apparent to both combatants.
Therefore being condemned by each for his treachery, he was driven
forth from the light of day, and henceforth concealed himself in dark
hiding-places, flying always alone and at night.
The Spendthrift and the Swallow
A YOUNG MAN, a great spendthrift, had run through all his patrimony and
had but one good cloak left. One day he happened to see a Swallow,
which had appeared before its season, skimming along a pool and
twittering gaily. He supposed that summer had come, and went and sold
his cloak. Not many days later, winter set in again with renewed frost
and cold. When he found the unfortunate Swallow lifeless on the ground,
he said, “Unhappy bird! what have you done? By thus appearing before
the springtime you have not only killed yourself, but you have wrought
my destruction also.”
The Trumpeter Taken Prisoner
A TRUMPETER, bravely leading on the soldiers, was captured by the
enemy. He cried out to his captors, “Pray spare me, and do not take my
life without cause or without inquiry. I have not slain a single man of
your troop. I have no arms, and carry nothing but this one brass
trumpet.” “That is the very reason for which you should be put to
death,” they said; “for, while you do not fight yourself, your trumpet
stirs all the others to battle.”
The Owl and the Birds
AN OWL, in her wisdom, counseled the Birds that when the acorn first
began to sprout, to pull it all up out of the ground and not allow it
to grow. She said acorns would produce mistletoe, from which an
irremediable poison, the bird-lime, would be extracted and by which
they would be captured. The Owl next advised them to pluck up the seed
of the flax, which men had sown, as it was a plant which boded no good
to them. And, lastly, the Owl, seeing an archer approach, predicted
that this man, being on foot, would contrive darts armed with feathers
which would fly faster than the wings of the Birds themselves. The
Birds gave no credence to these warning words, but considered the Owl
to be beside herself and said that she was mad. But afterwards, finding
her words were true, they wondered at her knowledge and deemed her to
be the wisest of birds. Hence it is that when she appears they look to
her as knowing all things, while she no longer gives them advice, but
in solitude laments their past folly.
The Goods and the Ills
ALL the Goods were once driven out by the Ills from that common share
which they each had in the affairs of mankind; for the Ills by reason
of their numbers had prevailed to possess the earth. The Goods wafted
themselves to heaven and asked for a righteous vengeance on their
persecutors. They entreated Jupiter that they might no longer be
associated with the Ills, as they had nothing in common and could not
live together, but were engaged in unceasing warfare; and that an
indissoluble law might be laid down for their future protection.
Jupiter granted their request and decreed that henceforth the Ills
should visit the earth in company with each other, but that the Goods
should one by one enter the habitations of men. Hence it arises that
Ills abound, for they come not one by one, but in troops, and by no
means singly: while the Goods proceed from Jupiter, and are given, not
alike to all, but singly, and separately; and one by one to those who
are able to discern them.
The Ass in the Lion’s Skin
AN ASS, having put on the Lion’s skin, roamed about in the forest and
amused himself by frightening all the foolish animals he met in his
wanderings. At last coming upon a Fox, he tried to frighten him also,
but the Fox no sooner heard the sound of his voice than he exclaimed,
“I might possibly have been frightened myself, if I had not heard your
bray.”
The Sparrow and the Hare
A HARE pounced upon by an eagle sobbed very much and uttered cries like
a child. A Sparrow upbraided her and said, “Where now is thy remarkable
swiftness of foot? Why were your feet so slow?” While the Sparrow was
thus speaking, a hawk suddenly seized him and killed him. The Hare was
comforted in her death, and expiring said, “Ah! you who so lately, when
you supposed yourself safe, exulted over my calamity, have now reason
to deplore a similar misfortune.”
The Flea and the Ox
A FLEA thus questioned an Ox: “What ails you, that being so huge and
strong, you submit to the wrongs you receive from men and slave for
them day by day, while I, being so small a creature, mercilessly feed
on their flesh and drink their blood without stint?” The Ox replied: “I
do not wish to be ungrateful, for I am loved and well cared for by men,
and they often pat my head and shoulders.” “Woe’s me!” said the flea;
“this very patting which you like, whenever it happens to me, brings
with it my inevitable destruction.”
The Ass and His Purchaser
A MAN wished to purchase an Ass, and agreed with its owner that he
should try out the animal before he bought him. He took the Ass home
and put him in the straw-yard with his other Asses, upon which the new
animal left all the others and at once joined the one that was most
idle and the greatest eater of them all. Seeing this, the man put a
halter on him and led him back to his owner. On being asked how, in so
short a time, he could have made a trial of him, he answered, “I do not
need a trial; I know that he will be just the same as the one he chose
for his companion.”
A man is known by the company he keeps.
The Dove and the Crow
A DOVE shut up in a cage was boasting of the large number of young ones
which she had hatched. A Crow hearing her, said: “My good friend, cease
from this unseasonable boasting. The larger the number of your family,
the greater your cause of sorrow, in seeing them shut up in this
prison-house.”
The Man and the Satyr
A MAN and a Satyr once drank together in token of a bond of alliance
being formed between them. One very cold wintry day, as they talked,
the Man put his fingers to his mouth and blew on them. When the Satyr
asked the reason for this, he told him that he did it to warm his hands
because they were so cold. Later on in the day they sat down to eat,
and the food prepared was quite scalding. The Man raised one of the
dishes a little towards his mouth and blew in it. When the Satyr again
inquired the reason, he said that he did it to cool the meat, which was
too hot. “I can no longer consider you as a friend,” said the Satyr, “a
fellow who with the same breath blows hot and cold.”
Jupiter, Neptune, Minerva, and Momus
ACCORDING to an ancient legend, the first man was made by Jupiter, the
first bull by Neptune, and the first house by Minerva. On the
completion of their labours, a dispute arose as to which had made the
most perfect work. They agreed to appoint Momus as judge, and to abide
by his decision. Momus, however, being very envious of the handicraft
of each, found fault with all. He first blamed the work of Neptune
because he had not made the horns of the bull below his eyes, so he
might better see where to strike. He then condemned the work of
Jupiter, because he had not placed the heart of man on the outside,
that everyone might read the thoughts of the evil disposed and take
precautions against the intended mischief. And, lastly, he inveighed
against Minerva because she had not contrived iron wheels in the
foundation of her house, so its inhabitants might more easily remove if
a neighbor proved unpleasant. Jupiter, indignant at such inveterate
faultfinding, drove him from his office of judge, and expelled him from
the mansions of Olympus.
The Eagle and the Jackdaw
AN EAGLE, flying down from his perch on a lofty rock, seized upon a
lamb and carried him aloft in his talons. A Jackdaw, who witnessed the
capture of the lamb, was stirred with envy and determined to emulate
the strength and flight of the Eagle. He flew around with a great whir
of his wings and settled upon a large ram, with the intention of
carrying him off, but his claws became entangled in the ram’s fleece
and he was not able to release himself, although he fluttered with his
feathers as much as he could. The shepherd, seeing what had happened,
ran up and caught him. He at once clipped the Jackdaw’s wings, and
taking him home at night, gave him to his children. On their saying,
“Father, what kind of bird is it?” he replied, “To my certain knowledge
he is a Daw; but he would like you to think an Eagle.”
The Eagle and the Fox
AN EAGLE and a Fox formed an intimate friendship and decided to live
near each other. The Eagle built her nest in the branches of a tall
tree, while the Fox crept into the underwood and there produced her
young. Not long after they had agreed upon this plan, the Eagle, being
in want of provision for her young ones, swooped down while the Fox was
out, seized upon one of the little cubs, and feasted herself and her
brood. The Fox on her return, discovered what had happened, but was
less grieved for the death of her young than for her inability to
avenge them. A just retribution, however, quickly fell upon the Eagle.
While hovering near an altar, on which some villagers were sacrificing
a goat, she suddenly seized a piece of the flesh, and carried it, along
with a burning cinder, to her nest. A strong breeze soon fanned the
spark into a flame, and the eaglets, as yet unfledged and helpless,
were roasted in their nest and dropped down dead at the bottom of the
tree. There, in the sight of the Eagle, the Fox gobbled them up.
The Two Bags
EVERY MAN, according to an ancient legend, is born into the world with
two bags suspended from his neck all bag in front full of his
neighbors’ faults, and a large bag behind filled with his own faults.
Hence it is that men are quick to see the faults of others, and yet are
often blind to their own failings.
The Bitch and Her Whelps
A BITCH, ready to whelp, earnestly begged a shepherd for a place where
she might litter. When her request was granted, she besought permission
to rear her puppies in the same spot. The shepherd again consented. But
at last the Bitch, protected by the bodyguard of her Whelps, who had
now grown up and were able to defend themselves, asserted her exclusive
right to the place and would not permit the shepherd to approach.
The Stag at the Pool
A STAG overpowered by heat came to a spring to drink. Seeing his own
shadow reflected in the water, he greatly admired the size and variety
of his horns, but felt angry with himself for having such slender and
weak feet. While he was thus contemplating himself, a Lion appeared at
the pool and crouched to spring upon him. The Stag immediately took to
flight, and exerting his utmost speed, as long as the plain was smooth
and open kept himself easily at a safe distance from the Lion. But
entering a wood he became entangled by his horns, and the Lion quickly
came up to him and caught him. When too late, he thus reproached
himself: “Woe is me! How I have deceived myself! These feet which would
have saved me I despised, and I gloried in these antlers which have
proved my destruction.”
What is most truly valuable is often underrated.
The Lark Burying Her Father
THE LARK (according to an ancient legend) was created before the earth
itself, and when her father died, as there was no earth, she could find
no place of burial for him. She let him lie uninterred for five days,
and on the sixth day, not knowing what else to do, she buried him in
her own head. Hence she obtained her crest, which is popularly said to
be her father’s grave-hillock.
Youth’s first duty is reverence to parents.
The Gnat and the Bull
A GNAT settled on the horn of a Bull, and sat there a long time. Just
as he was about to fly off, he made a buzzing noise, and inquired of
the Bull if he would like him to go. The Bull replied, “I did not know
you had come, and I shall not miss you when you go away.”
Some men are of more consequence in their own eyes than in the eyes of
their neighbors.
The Monkey and the Camel
THE BEASTS of the forest gave a splendid entertainment at which the
Monkey stood up and danced. Having vastly delighted the assembly, he
sat down amidst universal applause. The Camel, envious of the praises
bestowed on the Monkey and desiring to divert to himself the favour of
the guests, proposed to stand up in his turn and dance for their
amusement. He moved about in so utterly ridiculous a manner that the
Beasts, in a fit of indignation, set upon him with clubs and drove him
out of the assembly.
It is absurd to ape our betters.
The Dogs and the Hides
SOME DOGS famished with hunger saw a number of cowhides steeping in a
river. Not being able to reach them, they agreed to drink up the river,
but it happened that they burst themselves with drinking long before
they reached the hides.
Attempt not impossibilities.
The Jackdaw and the Fox
A HALF-FAMISHED JACKDAW seated himself on a fig-tree, which had
produced some fruit entirely out of season, and waited in the hope that
the figs would ripen. A Fox seeing him sitting so long and learning the
reason of his doing so, said to him, “You are indeed, sir, sadly
deceiving yourself; you are indulging a hope strong enough to cheat
you, but which will never reward you with enjoyment.”
Mercury and the Workmen
A WORKMAN, felling wood by the side of a river, let his axe drop by
accident into a deep pool. Being thus deprived of the means of his
livelihood, he sat down on the bank and lamented his hard fate. Mercury
appeared and demanded the cause of his tears. After he told him his
misfortune, Mercury plunged into the stream, and, bringing up a golden
axe, inquired if that were the one he had lost. On his saying that it
was not his, Mercury disappeared beneath the water a second time,
returned with a silver axe in his hand, and again asked the Workman if
it were his. When the Workman said it was not, he dived into the pool
for the third time and brought up the axe that had been lost. The
Workman claimed it and expressed his joy at its recovery. Mercury,
pleased with his honesty, gave him the golden and silver axes in
addition to his own. The Workman, on his return to his house, related
to his companions all that had happened. One of them at once resolved
to try and secure the same good fortune for himself. He ran to the
river and threw his axe on purpose into the pool at the same place, and
sat down on the bank to weep. Mercury appeared to him just as he hoped
he would; and having learned the cause of his grief, plunged into the
stream and brought up a golden axe, inquiring if he had lost it. The
Workman seized it greedily, and declared that truly it was the very
same axe that he had lost. Mercury, displeased at his knavery, not only
took away the golden axe, but refused to recover for him the axe he had
thrown into the pool.
The Peasant and the Apple-Tree
A PEASANT had in his garden an Apple-Tree which bore no fruit but only
served as a harbor for the sparrows and grasshoppers. He resolved to
cut it down, and taking his axe in his hand, made a bold stroke at its
roots. The grasshoppers and sparrows entreated him not to cut down the
tree that sheltered them, but to spare it, and they would sing to him
and lighten his labours. He paid no attention to their request, but
gave the tree a second and a third blow with his axe. When he reached
the hollow of the tree, he found a hive full of honey. Having tasted
the honeycomb, he threw down his axe, and looking on the tree as
sacred, took great care of it.
Self-interest alone moves some men.
The Two Soldiers and the Robber
TWO SOLDIERS traveling together were set upon by a Robber. The one fled
away; the other stood his ground and defended himself with his stout
right hand. The Robber being slain, the timid companion ran up and drew
his sword, and then, throwing back his traveling cloak said, “I’ll at
him, and I’ll take care he shall learn whom he has attacked.” On this,
he who had fought with the Robber made answer, “I only wish that you
had helped me just now, even if it had been only with those words, for
I should have been the more encouraged, believing them to be true; but
now put up your sword in its sheath and hold your equally useless
tongue, till you can deceive others who do not know you. I, indeed, who
have experienced with what speed you run away, know right well that no
dependence can be placed on your valor.”
The Shepherd and the Sheep
A SHEPHERD driving his Sheep to a wood, saw an oak of unusual size full
of acorns, and spreading his cloak under the branches, he climbed up
into the tree and shook them down. The Sheep eating the acorns
inadvertently frayed and tore the cloak. When the Shepherd came down
and saw what was done, he said, “O you most ungrateful creatures! You
provide wool to make garments for all other men, but you destroy the
clothes of him who feeds you.”
The Trees Under the Protection of the Gods
THE GODS, according to an ancient legend, made choice of certain trees
to be under their special protection. Jupiter chose the oak, Venus the
myrtle, Apollo the laurel, Cybele the pine, and Hercules the poplar.
Minerva, wondering why they had preferred trees not yielding fruit,
inquired the reason for their choice. Jupiter replied, “It is lest we
should seem to covet the honour for the fruit.” But said Minerva, “Let
anyone say what he will the olive is more dear to me on account of its
fruit.” Then said Jupiter, “My daughter, you are rightly called wise;
for unless what we do is useful, the glory of it is vain.”
The Flea and the Wrestler
A FLEA settled upon the bare foot of a Wrestler and bit him, causing
the man to call loudly upon Hercules for help. When the Flea a second
time hopped upon his foot, he groaned and said, “O Hercules! if you
will not help me against a Flea, how can I hope for your assistance
against greater antagonists?”
The Lion and the Fox
A FOX entered into partnership with a Lion on the pretense of becoming
his servant. Each undertook his proper duty in accordance with his own
nature and powers. The Fox discovered and pointed out the prey; the
Lion sprang on it and seized it. The Fox soon became jealous of the
Lion carrying off the Lion’s share, and said that he would no longer
find out the prey, but would capture it on his own account. The next
day he attempted to snatch a lamb from the fold, but he himself fell
prey to the huntsmen and hounds.
Truth and the Traveler
A WAYFARING MAN, traveling in the desert, met a woman standing alone
and terribly dejected. He inquired of her, “Who art thou?” “My name is
Truth,” she replied. “And for what cause,” he asked, “have you left the
city to dwell alone here in the wilderness?” She made answer, “Because
in former times, falsehood was with few, but is now with all men.”
The Manslayer
A MAN committed a murder, and was pursued by the relations of the man
whom he murdered. On his reaching the river Nile he saw a Lion on its
bank and being fearfully afraid, climbed up a tree. He found a serpent
in the upper branches of the tree, and again being greatly alarmed, he
threw himself into the river, where a crocodile caught him and ate him.
Thus the earth, the air, and the water alike refused shelter to a
murderer.
The Lion and the Eagle
AN EAGLE stayed his flight and entreated a Lion to make an alliance
with him to their mutual advantage. The Lion replied, “I have no
objection, but you must excuse me for requiring you to find surety for
your good faith, for how can I trust anyone as a friend who is able to
fly away from his bargain whenever he pleases?”
Try before you trust.
The Ass and His Driver
AN ASS, being driven along a high road, suddenly started off and bolted
to the brink of a deep precipice. While he was in the act of throwing
himself over, his owner seized him by the tail, endeavoring to pull him
back. When the Ass persisted in his effort, the man let him go and
said, “Conquer, but conquer to your cost.”
The Thrush and the Fowler
A THRUSH was feeding on a myrtle-tree and did not move from it because
its berries were so delicious. A Fowler observed her staying so long in
one spot, and having well bird-limed his reeds, caught her. The Thrush,
being at the point of death, exclaimed, “O foolish creature that I am!
For the sake of a little pleasant food I have deprived myself of my
life.”
The Mother and the Wolf
A FAMISHED WOLF was prowling about in the morning in search of food. As
he passed the door of a cottage built in the forest, he heard a Mother
say to her child, “Be quiet, or I will throw you out of the window, and
the Wolf shall eat you.” The Wolf sat all day waiting at the door. In
the evening he heard the same woman fondling her child and saying: “You
are quiet now, and if the Wolf should come, we will kill him.” The
Wolf, hearing these words, went home, gasping with cold and hunger.
When he reached his den, Mistress Wolf inquired of him why he returned
wearied and supperless, so contrary to his wont. He replied: “Why,
forsooth! use I gave credence to the words of a woman!”
The Hen and the Swallow
A HEN finding the eggs of a viper and carefully keeping them warm,
nourished them into life. A Swallow, observing what she had done, said,
“You silly creature! why have you hatched these vipers which, when they
shall have grown, will inflict injury on all, beginning with yourself?”
The Rose and the Amaranth
AN AMARANTH planted in a garden near a Rose-Tree, thus addressed it:
“What a lovely flower is the Rose, a favourite alike with Gods and with
men. I envy you your beauty and your perfume.” The Rose replied, “I
indeed, dear Amaranth, flourish but for a brief season! If no cruel
hand pluck me from my stem, yet I must perish by an early doom. But
thou art immortal and dost never fade, but bloomest for ever in renewed
youth.”
The Travelers and the Plane-Tree
TWO TRAVELERS, worn out by the heat of the summer’s sun, laid
themselves down at noon under the widespreading branches of a
Plane-Tree. As they rested under its shade, one of the Travelers said
to the other, “What a singularly useless tree is the Plane! It bears no
fruit, and is not of the least service to man.” The Plane-Tree,
interrupting him, said, “You ungrateful fellows! Do you, while
receiving benefits from me and resting under my shade, dare to describe
me as useless, and unprofitable?”
Some men underrate their best blessings.
The Ass and the Horse
AN ASS besought a Horse to spare him a small portion of his feed.
“Yes,” said the Horse; “if any remains out of what I am now eating I
will give it you for the sake of my own superior dignity, and if you
will come when I reach my own stall in the evening, I will give you a
little sack full of barley.” The Ass replied, “Thank you. But I can’t
think that you, who refuse me a little matter now, will by and by
confer on me a greater benefit.”
The Crow and the Sheep
A TROUBLESOME CROW seated herself on the back of a Sheep. The Sheep,
much against his will, carried her backward and forward for a long
time, and at last said, “If you had treated a dog in this way, you
would have had your deserts from his sharp teeth.” To this the Crow
replied, “I despise the weak and yield to the strong. I know whom I may
bully and whom I must flatter; and I thus prolong my life to a good old
age.”
The Fox and the Bramble
A FOX was mounting a hedge when he lost his footing and caught hold of
a Bramble to save himself. Having pricked and grievously torn the soles
of his feet, he accused the Bramble because, when he had fled to her
for assistance, she had used him worse than the hedge itself. The
Bramble, interrupting him, said, “But you really must have been out of
your senses to fasten yourself on me, who am myself always accustomed
to fasten upon others.”
The Ass and the Charger
AN ASS congratulated a Horse on being so ungrudgingly and carefully
provided for, while he himself had scarcely enough to eat and not even
that without hard work. But when war broke out, a heavily armed soldier
mounted the Horse, and riding him to the charge, rushed into the very
midst of the enemy. The Horse was wounded and fell dead on the
battlefield. Then the Ass, seeing all these things, changed his mind,
and commiserated the Horse.
The Lion, Jupiter, and the Elephant
THE LION wearied Jupiter with his frequent complaints. “It is true, O
Jupiter!” he said, “that I am gigantic in strength, handsome in shape,
and powerful in attack. I have jaws well provided with teeth, and feet
furnished with claws, and I lord it over all the beasts of the forest,
and what a disgrace it is, that being such as I am, I should be
frightened by the crowing of a cock.” Jupiter replied, “Why do you
blame me without a cause? I have given you all the attributes which I
possess myself, and your courage never fails you except in this one
instance.” On hearing this the Lion groaned and lamented very much and,
reproaching himself with his cowardice, wished that he might die. As
these thoughts passed through his mind, he met an Elephant and came
close to hold a conversation with him. After a time he observed that
the Elephant shook his ears very often, and he inquired what was the
matter and why his ears moved with such a tremor every now and then.
Just at that moment a Gnat settled on the head of the Elephant, and he
replied, “Do you see that little buzzing insect? If it enters my ear,
my fate is sealed. I should die presently.” The Lion said, “Well, since
so huge a beast is afraid of a tiny gnat, I will no more complain, nor
wish myself dead. I find myself, even as I am, better off than the
Elephant.”
The Dog and the Oyster
A DOG, used to eating eggs, saw an Oyster and, opening his mouth to its
widest extent, swallowed it down with the utmost relish, supposing it
to be an egg. Soon afterwards suffering great pain in his stomach, he
said, “I deserve all this torment, for my folly in thinking that
everything round must be an egg.”
They who act without sufficient thought, will often fall into
unsuspected danger.
The Mules and the Robbers
TWO MULES well-laden with packs were trudging along. One carried
panniers filled with money, the other sacks weighted with grain. The
Mule carrying the treasure walked with head erect, as if conscious of
the value of his burden, and tossed up and down the clear-toned bells
fastened to his neck. His companion followed with quiet and easy step.
All of a sudden Robbers rushed upon them from their hiding-places, and
in the scuffle with their owners, wounded with a sword the Mule
carrying the treasure, which they greedily seized while taking no
notice of the grain. The Mule which had been robbed and wounded
bewailed his misfortunes. The other replied, “I am indeed glad that I
was thought so little of, for I have lost nothing, nor am I hurt with
any wound.”
The Lamb and the Wolf
A WOLF pursued a Lamb, which fled for refuge to a certain Temple. The
Wolf called out to him and said, “The Priest will slay you in
sacrifice, if he should catch you.” On which the Lamb replied, “It
would be better for me to be sacrificed in the Temple than to be eaten
by you.”
The Partridge and the Fowler
A FOWLER caught a Partridge and was about to kill it. The Partridge
earnestly begged him to spare his life, saying, “Pray, master, permit
me to live and I will entice many Partridges to you in recompense for
your mercy to me.” The Fowler replied, “I shall now with less scruple
take your life, because you are willing to save it at the cost of
betraying your friends and relations.”
The Flea and the Man
A MAN, very much annoyed with a Flea, caught him at last, and said,
“Who are you who dare to feed on my limbs, and to cost me so much
trouble in catching you?” The Flea replied, “O my dear sir, pray spare
my life, and destroy me not, for I cannot possibly do you much harm.”
The Man, laughing, replied, “Now you shall certainly die by mine own
hands, for no evil, whether it be small or large, ought to be
tolerated.”
The Rich Man and the Tanner
A RICH MAN lived near a Tanner, and not being able to bear the
unpleasant smell of the tan-yard, he pressed his neighbor to go away.
The Tanner put off his departure from time to time, saying that he
would leave soon. But as he still continued to stay, as time went on,
the rich man became accustomed to the smell, and feeling no manner of
inconvenience, made no further complaints.
The Viper and the File
A VIPER, entering the workshop of a smith, sought from the tools the
means of satisfying his hunger. He more particularly addressed himself
to a File, and asked of him the favour of a meal. The File replied,
“You must indeed be a simple-minded fellow if you expect to get
anything from me, who am accustomed to take from everyone, and never to
give anything in return.”
The covetous are poor givers.
The Lion and the Shepherd
A LION, roaming through a forest, trod upon a thorn. Soon afterward he
came up to a Shepherd and fawned upon him, wagging his tail as if to
say, “I am a suppliant, and seek your aid.” The Shepherd boldly
examined the beast, discovered the thorn, and placing his paw upon his
lap, pulled it out; thus relieved of his pain, the Lion returned into
the forest. Some time after, the Shepherd, being imprisoned on a false
accusation, was condemned “to be cast to the Lions” as the punishment
for his imputed crime. But when the Lion was released from his cage, he
recognized the Shepherd as the man who healed him, and instead of
attacking him, approached and placed his foot upon his lap. The King,
as soon as he heard the tale, ordered the Lion to be set free again in
the forest, and the Shepherd to be pardoned and restored to his
friends.
The Camel and Jupiter
THE CAMEL, when he saw the Bull adorned with horns, envied him and
wished that he himself could obtain the same honours. He went to
Jupiter, and besought him to give him horns. Jupiter, vexed at his
request because he was not satisfied with his size and strength of
body, and desired yet more, not only refused to give him horns, but
even deprived him of a portion of his ears.
The Panther and the Shepherds
A PANTHER, by some mischance, fell into a pit. The Shepherds discovered
him, and some threw sticks at him and pelted him with stones, while
others, moved with compassion towards one about to die even though no
one should hurt him, threw in some food to prolong his life. At night
they returned home, not dreaming of any danger, but supposing that on
the morrow they would find him dead. The Panther, however, when he had
recruited his feeble strength, freed himself with a sudden bound from
the pit, and hastened to his den with rapid steps. After a few days he
came forth and slaughtered the cattle, and, killing the Shepherds who
had attacked him, raged with angry fury. Then they who had spared his
life, fearing for their safety, surrendered to him their flocks and
begged only for their lives. To them the Panther made this reply: “I
remember alike those who sought my life with stones, and those who gave
me food aside, therefore, your fears. I return as an enemy only to
those who injured me.”
The Eagle and the Kite
AN EAGLE, overwhelmed with sorrow, sat upon the branches of a tree in
company with a Kite. “Why,” said the Kite, “do I see you with such a
rueful look?” “I seek,” she replied, “a mate suitable for me, and am
not able to find one.” “Take me,” returned the Kite, “I am much
stronger than you are.” “Why, are you able to secure the means of
living by your plunder?” “Well, I have often caught and carried away an
ostrich in my talons.” The Eagle, persuaded by these words, accepted
him as her mate. Shortly after the nuptials, the Eagle said, “Fly off
and bring me back the ostrich you promised me.” The Kite, soaring aloft
into the air, brought back the shabbiest possible mouse, stinking from
the length of time it had lain about the fields. “Is this,” said the
Eagle, “the faithful fulfillment of your promise to me?” The Kite
replied, “That I might attain your royal hand, there is nothing that I
would not have promised, however much I knew that I must fail in the
performance.”
The Eagle and His Captor
AN EAGLE was once captured by a man, who immediately clipped his wings
and put him into his poultry-yard with the other birds, at which
treatment the Eagle was weighed down with grief. Later, another
neighbor purchased him and allowed his feathers to grow again. The
Eagle took flight, and pouncing upon a hare, brought it at once as an
offering to his benefactor. A Fox, seeing this, exclaimed, “Do not
cultivate the favour of this man, but of your former owner, lest he
should again hunt for you and deprive you a second time of your wings.”
The King’s Son and the Painted Lion
A KING, whose only son was fond of martial exercises, had a dream in
which he was warned that his son would be killed by a lion. Afraid the
dream should prove true, he built for his son a pleasant palace and
adorned its walls for his amusement with all kinds of life-sized
animals, among which was the picture of a lion. When the young Prince
saw this, his grief at being thus confined burst out afresh, and,
standing near the lion, he said: “O you most detestable of animals!
through a lying dream of my father’s, which he saw in his sleep, I am
shut up on your account in this palace as if I had been a girl: what
shall I now do to you?” With these words he stretched out his hands
toward a thorn-tree, meaning to cut a stick from its branches so that
he might beat the lion. But one of the tree’s prickles pierced his
finger and caused great pain and inflammation, so that the young Prince
fell down in a fainting fit. A violent fever suddenly set in, from
which he died not many days later.
We had better bear our troubles bravely than try to escape them.
The Cat and Venus
A CAT fell in love with a handsome young man, and entreated Venus to
change her into the form of a woman. Venus consented to her request and
transformed her into a beautiful damsel, so that the youth saw her and
loved her, and took her home as his bride. While the two were reclining
in their chamber, Venus wishing to discover if the Cat in her change of
shape had also altered her habits of life, let down a mouse in the
middle of the room. The Cat, quite forgetting her present condition,
started up from the couch and pursued the mouse, wishing to eat it.
Venus was much disappointed and again caused her to return to her
former shape.
Nature exceeds nurture.
The Eagle and the Beetle
THE EAGLE and the Beetle were at enmity together, and they destroyed
one another’s nests. The Eagle gave the first provocation in seizing
upon and in eating the young ones of the Beetle. The Beetle got by
stealth at the Eagle’s eggs, and rolled them out of the nest, and
followed the Eagle even into the presence of Jupiter. On the Eagle
making his complaint, Jupiter ordered him to make his nest in his lap;
and while Jupiter had the eggs in his lap, the Beetle came flying about
him, and Jupiter rising up unawares, to drive him away from his head,
threw down the eggs, and broke them.
The weak often revenge themselves on those who use them ill, even
though they be more powerful.
The She-Goats and Their Beards
THE SHE-GOATS having obtained a beard by request to Jupiter, the
He-Goats were sorely displeased and made complaint that the females
equaled them in dignity. “Allow them,” said Jupiter, “to enjoy an empty
honour and to assume the badge of your nobler sex, so long as they are
not your equals in strength or courage.”
It matters little if those who are inferior to us in merit should be
like us in outside appearances.
The Bald Man and the Fly
A FLY bit the bare head of a Bald Man who, endeavoring to destroy it,
gave himself a heavy slap. Escaping, the Fly said mockingly, “You who
have wished to revenge, even with death, the Prick of a tiny insect,
see what you have done to yourself to add insult to injury?” The Bald
Man replied, “I can easily make peace with myself, because I know there
was no intention to hurt. But you, an ill-favoured and contemptible
insect who delights in sucking human blood, I wish that I could have
killed you even if I had incurred a heavier penalty.”
The Shipwrecked Man and the Sea
A SHIPWRECKED MAN, having been cast upon a certain shore, slept after
his buffetings with the deep. After a while he awoke, and looking upon
the Sea, loaded it with reproaches. He argued that it enticed men with
the calmness of its looks, but when it had induced them to plow its
waters, it grew rough and destroyed them. The Sea, assuming the form of
a woman, replied to him: “Blame not me, my good sir, but the winds, for
I am by my own nature as calm and firm even as this earth; but the
winds suddenly falling on me create these waves, and lash me into
fury.”
The Buffoon and the Countryman
A RICH NOBLEMAN once opened the theaters without charge to the people,
and gave a public notice that he would handsomely reward any person who
invented a new amusement for the occasion. Various public performers
contended for the prize. Among them came a Buffoon well known among the
populace for his jokes, and said that he had a kind of entertainment
which had never been brought out on any stage before. This report being
spread about made a great stir, and the theater was crowded in every
part. The Buffoon appeared alone upon the platform, without any
apparatus or confederates, and the very sense of expectation caused an
intense silence. He suddenly bent his head towards his bosom and
imitated the squeaking of a little pig so admirably with his voice that
the audience declared he had a porker under his cloak, and demanded
that it should be shaken out. When that was done and nothing was found,
they cheered the actor, and loaded him with the loudest applause. A
Countryman in the crowd, observing all that has passed, said, “So help
me, Hercules, he shall not beat me at that trick!” and at once
proclaimed that he would do the same thing on the next day, though in a
much more natural way. On the morrow a still larger crowd assembled in
the theater, but now partiality for their favourite actor very
generally prevailed, and the audience came rather to ridicule the
Countryman than to see the spectacle. Both of the performers appeared
on the stage. The Buffoon grunted and squeaked away first, and
obtained, as on the preceding day, the applause and cheers of the
spectators. Next the Countryman commenced, and pretending that he
concealed a little pig beneath his clothes (which in truth he did, but
not suspected by the audience ) contrived to take hold of and to pull
his ear causing the pig to squeak. The Crowd, however, cried out with
one consent that the Buffoon had given a far more exact imitation, and
clamored for the Countryman to be kicked out of the theater. On this
the rustic produced the little pig from his cloak and showed by the
most positive proof the greatness of their mistake. “Look here,” he
said, “this shows what sort of judges you are.”
The Crow and the Serpent
A CROW in great want of food saw a Serpent asleep in a sunny nook, and
flying down, greedily seized him. The Serpent, turning about, bit the
Crow with a mortal wound. In the agony of death, the bird exclaimed: “O
unhappy me! who have found in that which I deemed a happy windfall the
source of my destruction.”
The Hunter and the Horseman
A CERTAIN HUNTER, having snared a hare, placed it upon his shoulders
and set out homewards. On his way he met a man on horseback who begged
the hare of him, under the pretense of purchasing it. However, when the
Horseman got the hare, he rode off as fast as he could. The Hunter ran
after him, as if he was sure of overtaking him, but the Horseman
increased more and more the distance between them. The Hunter, sorely
against his will, called out to him and said, “Get along with you! for
I will now make you a present of the hare.”
The Olive-Tree and the Fig-Tree
THE OLIVE-TREE ridiculed the Fig-Tree because, while she was green all
the year round, the Fig-Tree changed its leaves with the seasons. A
shower of snow fell upon them, and, finding the Olive full of foliage,
it settled upon its branches and broke them down with its weight, at
once despoiling it of its beauty and killing the tree. But finding the
Fig-Tree denuded of leaves, the snow fell through to the ground, and
did not injure it at all.
The Frogs’ Complaint Against the Sun
ONCE UPON A TIME, when the Sun announced his intention to take a wife,
the Frogs lifted up their voices in clamor to the sky. Jupiter,
disturbed by the noise of their croaking, inquired the cause of their
complaint. One of them said, “The Sun, now while he is single, parches
up the marsh, and compels us to die miserably in our arid homes. What
will be our future condition if he should beget other suns?”
The Brazier and His Dog
A BRAZIER had a little Dog, which was a great favourite with his
master, and his constant companion. While he hammered away at his
metals the Dog slept; but when, on the other hand, he went to dinner
and began to eat, the Dog woke up and wagged his tail, as if he would
ask for a share of his meal. His master one day, pretending to be angry
and shaking his stick at him, said, “You wretched little sluggard! what
shall I do to you? While I am hammering on the anvil, you sleep on the
mat; and when I begin to eat after my toil, you wake up and wag your
tail for food. Do you not know that labor is the source of every
blessing, and that none but those who work are entitled to eat?”
FOOTNOTES
1 (return)
[ A History of the Literature of Ancient Greece, by K. O. Mueller. Vol.
i, p. 191. _London_, Parker, 1858.]
2 (return)
[ Select Fables of Æsop, and other Fabulists. In three books,
translated by Robert Dodsley, accompanied with a selection of notes,
and an Essay on Fable. _Birmingham_, 1864. P. 60.]
3 (return)
[ Some of these fables had, no doubt, in the first instance, a primary
and private interpretation. On the first occasion of their being
composed they were intended to refer to some passing event, or to some
individual acts of wrong-doing. Thus, the fables of the “Eagle and the
Fox” and of the “Fox and Monkey” are supposed to have been written by
Archilochus, to avenge the injuries done him by Lycambes. So also the
fables of the “Swollen Fox” and of the “Frogs asking a King” were
spoken by Æsop for the immediate purpose of reconciling the inhabitants
of Samos and Athens to their respective rulers, Periander and
Pisistratus; while the fable of the “Horse and Stag” was composed to
caution the inhabitants of Himera against granting a bodyguard to
Phalaris. In a similar manner, the fable from Phædrus, the “Marriage of
the Sun,” is supposed to have reference to the contemplated union of
Livia, the daughter of Drusus, with Sejanus the favourite, and minister
of Trajan. These fables, however, though thus originating in special
events, and designed at first to meet special circumstances, are so
admirably constructed as to be fraught with lessons of general utility,
and of universal application.]
4 (return)
[ Hesiod. Opera et Dies, verse 202.]
5 (return)
[ Æschylus. Fragment of the Myrmidons. Æschylus speaks of this fable as
existing before his day. ὡς δ’ ἐστὶ μύθων τῶν Διβυστικῶν λογος. See
Scholiast on the Aves of Aristophanes, line 808.]
6 (return)
[ Fragment. 38, ed. Gaisford. See also Mueller’s History of the
Literature of Ancient Greece, vol. i. pp. 190–193.]
7 (return)
[ M. Bayle has well put this in his account of Æsop. “Il n’y a point
d’apparence que les fables qui portent aujourd’hui son nom soient les
mêmes qu’il avait faites; elles viennent bien de lui pour la plupart,
quant à la matière et la pensée; mais les paroles sont d’un autre.” And
again, “C’est donc à Hésiode, que j’aimerais mieux attribuer la gloire
de l’invention; mais sans doute il laissa la chose très imparfaite.
Esope la perfectionne si heureusement, qu’on l’a regarde comme le vrai
père de cette sorte de production.”—_Bayle. Dictionnaire Historique_.]
8 (return)
[ Plato in Phædone.]
9 (return)
[ Apologos en! misit tibi
Ab usque Rheni limite
Ausonius nomen Italum
Præceptor Augusti tui
Æsopiam trimetriam;
Quam vertit exili stylo
Pedestre concinnans opus
Fandi Titianus artifex.
_Ausonii Epistola_, xvi. 75–80.]
10 (return)
[ Both these publications are in the British Museum, and are placed in
the library in cases under glass, for the inspection of the curious.]
11 (return)
[ Fables may possibly have been not entirely unknown to the mediæval
scholars. There are two celebrated works which might by some be classed
amongst works of this description. The one is the “Speculum Sapientiæ,”
attributed to St. Cyril, Archbishop of Jerusalem, but of a considerably
later origin, and existing only in Latin. It is divided into four
books, and consists of long conversations conducted by fictitious
characters under the figures the beasts of the field and forest, and
aimed at the rebuke of particular classes of men, the boastful, the
proud, the luxurious, the wrathful, &c. None of the stories are
precisely those of Æsop, and none have the concinnity, terseness, and
unmistakable deduction of the lesson intended to be taught by the
fable, so conspicuous in the great Greek fabulist. The exact title of
the book is this: “Speculum Sapientiæ, B. Cyrilli Episcopi: alias
quadripartitus apologeticus vocatus, in cujus quidem proverbiis omnis
et totius sapientiæ speculum claret et feliciter incipit.” The other is
a larger work in two volumes, published in the fourteenth century by
Cæsar Heisterbach, a Cistercian monk, under the title of “Dialogus
Miraculorum,” reprinted in 1851. This work consists of conversations in
which many stories are interwoven on all kinds of subjects. It has no
correspondence with the pure Æsopian fable.]
12 (return)
[ Post-mediæval Preachers, by S. Baring-Gould. Rivingtons, 1865.]
13 (return)
[ For an account of this work see the Life of Poggio Bracciolini, by
the Rev. William Shepherd. Liverpool, 1801.]
14 (return)
[ Professor Theodore Bergh. See Classical Museum, No. viii. July,
1849.]
15 (return)
[ Vavassor’s treatise, entitled “De Ludicrâ Dictione” was written A.D.
1658, at the request of the celebrated M. Balzac (though published
after his death), for the purpose of showing that the burlesque style
of writing adopted by Scarron and D’Assouci, and at that time so
popular in France, had no sanction from the ancient classic writers.
_Francisci Vavassoris opera omnia_. Amsterdam. 1709.]
16 (return)
[ The claims of Babrias also found a warm advocate in the learned
Frenchman, M. Bayle, who, in his admirable Dictionary, (_Dictionnaire
Historique et Critique de Pierre Bayle_. Paris, 1820,) gives additional
arguments in confirmation of the opinions of his learned predecessors,
Nevelet and Vavassor.]
17 (return)
[ Scazonic, or halting, iambics; a choliambic (a lame, halting iambic)
differs from the iambic Senarius in always having a spondee or trochee
for its last foot; the fifth foot, to avoid shortness of metre, being
generally an iambic. See Fables of Babrias, translated by Rev. James
Davies. Lockwood, 1860. Preface, p. 27.]
18 (return)
[ See Dr. Bentley’s Dissertations upon the Epistles of Phalaris.]
19 (return)
[ Dr. Bentley’s Dissertations on the Epistles of Phalaris, and Fables
of Æsop examined. By the Honourable Charles Boyle.]
20 (return)
[ M. Bayle thus characterises this Life of Æsop by Planudes, “Tous les
habiles gens conviennent que c’est un roman, et que les absurdités
grossières qui l’on y trouve le rendent indigne de toute créance.”
_Dictionnaire Historique_. Art. _Esope_.]
INDEX
Æthiop
The Ant and the Dove
The Ants and the Grasshopper
The Apes and the Two Travelers
The Ass and the Charger
The Ass and His Driver
The Ass and the Frogs
The Ass and the Grasshopper
The Ass and his Masters
The Ass and his Purchaser
The Ass and his Shadow
The Ass and the Horse
The Ass and the Lapdog
The Ass and the Mule
The Ass and the Old Shepherd
The Ass and the Wolf
The Ass Carrying the Image
The Ass, the Cock, and the Lion
The Ass in the Lion’s Skin
The Ass, the Fox, and the Lion
The Astronomer
The Bald Man and the Fly
The Bald Knight
The Bat And The Weasels
The Bear and the Fox
The Bear and the Two Travelers
The Bee and Jupiter
The Belly and the Members
The Birdcatcher, the Partridge, and the Cock
The Birds, the Beasts, and the Bat
The Bitch and her Whelps
The Blind Man and the Whelp
The Boasting Traveler
The Bowman and Lion
The Boy and the Filberts
The Boy and the Nettles
The Boy Bathing
The Boy hunting Locusts
The Boys and the Frogs
The Brazier and His Dog
The Brother and the Sister
The Buffoon and the Countryman
The Bull and the Calf
The Bull and the Goat
The Bull, the Lioness, and the Wild-Boar Hunter
The Camel
The Camel and the Arab
The Camel and Jupiter
The Cat and the Birds
The Cat and the Cock
The Cat and the Mice
The Cat and Venus
The Cobbler Turned Doctor
The Cock and the Jewel
The Charcoal-Burner and the Fuller
The Charger and the Miller
The Crab and the Fox
The Crab and its Mother
The Crow and Mercury
The Crow and the Pitcher
The Crow and the Raven
The Crow and the Serpent
The Crow and the Sheep
The Dancing Monkeys
The Doe and the Lion
The Dog and the Cook
The Dog and the Hare
The Dog and the Oyster
The Dog and the Shadow
The Dog, the Cock, and the Fox
The Dog in the Manger
The Dogs and the Fox
The Dogs and the Hides
The Dog’s House
The Dolphins, the Whales, and the Sprat
The Dove and the Crow
The Eagle and the Arrow
The Eagle and the Beetle
The Eagle and His Captor
The Eagle and the Fox
The Eagle and the Jackdaw
The Eagle and the Kite
The Eagle, the Cat, and the Wild Sow
The Farmer and the Cranes
The Farmer and the Fox
The Farmer and the Snake
The Farmer and His Sons
The Farmer and the Stork
The Father And His Sons
The Father and His Two Daughters
The Fawn and His Mother
The Fighting Cocks and the Eagle
The Fir-Tree and the Bramble
The Fisherman and His Nets
The Fisherman and the Little Fish
The Fisherman Piping
The Fishermen
The Flea and the Man
The Flea and the Ox
The Flea and the Wrestler
The Flies and the Honey-Pot
The Fly and the Draught-Mule
The Fowler and the Viper
The Fox and the Bramble
The Fox and the Crane
The Fox and the Crow
The Fox and the Goat
The Fox and the Grapes
The Fox and the Hedgehog
The Fox and the Leopard
The Fox and the Lion
The Fox and the Lion
The Fox and the Mask
The Fox and the Monkey
The Fox and the Monkey
The Fox and the Woodcutter
The Fox Who Had Lost His Tail
The Frogs Asking for a King
The Frogs’ Complaint Against the Sun
The Gamecocks and the Partridge
The Geese and the Cranes
The Gnat and the Bull
The Gnat and the Lion
The Goat and the Ass
The Goat and the Goatherd
The Goatherd and the Wild Goats
The Goods and the Ills
The Grasshopper and the Owl
The Hare and the Hound
The Hare and the Tortoise
The Hares and the Foxes
The Hares and the Frogs
The Hares and the Lions
The Hart and the Vine
The Hawk and the Nightingale
The Hawk, the Kite, and the Pigeons
The Heifer and the Ox
The Hen and the Golden Eggs
The Hen and the Swallow
Hercules and the Wagoner
The Herdsman and the Lost Bull
The Horse and the Ass
The Horse and Groom
The Horse and his Rider
The Horse and the Stag
The Hunter and the Horseman
The Hunter and the Woodman
The Huntsman and the Fisherman
The Image of Mercury and the Carpenter
The Jackdaw and the Doves
The Jackdaw and the Fox
Jupiter and the Monkey
Jupiter, Neptune, Minerva, and Momus
The Kid and the Wolf
The Kid and the Wolf
The Kingdom of the Lion
The King’s Son and the Painted Lion
The Kites and the Swans
The Laborer and the Snake
The Lamb and the Wolf
The Lamp
The Lark and Her Young Ones
The Lark Burying Her Father
The Lion and the Boar
The Lion and the Bull
The Lion and the Dolphin
The Lion and the Eagle
The Lion and the Fox
The Lion and the Hare
The Lion and the Mouse
The Lion and the Shepherd
The Lion and the Three Bulls
The Lion, the Bear, and the Fox
The Lion, the Fox, and the Ass
The Lion in a Farmyard
The Lion in Love
The Lion, Jupiter, and the Elephant
The Lion, the Mouse, and the Fox
The Lion, the Wolf, and the Fox
The Lioness
The Man and His Two Sweethearts
The Man and His Wife
The Man and the Lion
The Man and the Satyr
The Man bitten by a Dog
The Man, the Horse, the Ox, and the Dog
The Manslayer
The Master and His Dogs
Mercury and the Sculptor
Mercury and the Workmen
The Mice and the Weasels
The Mice in Council
The Milk-Woman and her Pail
The Miller, His Son, and their Ass
The Mischievous Dog
The Miser
The Mole and His Mother
The Monkey and the Camel
The Monkey and the Dolphin
The Monkey and the Fishermen
The Monkeys and their Mother
The Mother and the Wolf
The Mountain in Labor
The Mouse and the Bull
The Mouse, the Frog, and the Hawk
The Mule
The Mules and the Robbers
The North Wind and the Sun
The Oak and the Reeds
The Oak and the Woodcutters
The Oaks and Jupiter
The Old Hound
The Old Lion
The Old Man and Death
The Old Woman and the Physician
The Old Woman and the Wine-Jar
The Olive-Tree and the Fig-Tree
The One-Eyed Doe
The Owl and the Birds
The Ox and the Frog
The Oxen and the Axle-Trees
The Oxen and the Butchers
The Panther and the Shepherds
The Partridge and the Fowler
The Peacock and the Crane
The Peacock and Juno
The Peasant and the Apple-Tree
The Peasant and the Eagle
The Philosopher, the Ants, and Mercury
The Playful Ass
The Pomegranate, Apple-Tree, and Bramble
The Porker, the Sheep, and the Goat
The Prophet
The Quack Frog
The Raven and the Swan
The Rich Man and the Tanner
The Rivers and the Sea
The Rose and the Amaranth
The Salt Merchant and his Ass
The Seagull and the Kite
The Seaside Travelers
The Seller of Images
The Serpent and the Eagle
The She-Goats and their Beards
The Shepherd and the Dog
The Shepherd and the Sea
The Shepherd and the Sheep
The Shepherd and the Wolf
The Shepherd’s Boy and the Wolf
The Shipwrecked Man and the Sea
The Sick Kite
The Sick Lion
The Sick Stag
The Sparrow and the Hare
The Spendthrift and the Swallow
The Stag at the Pool
The Stag in the Ox-Stall
The Stag, the Wolf, and the Sheep
The Swallow and the Crow
The Swallow, the Serpent, and the Court of Justice
The Swan and the Goose
The Swollen Fox
The Thief and his Mother
The Thief and the Housedog
The Thief and the Innkeeper
The Thieves and the Cock
The Thirsty Pigeon
The Three Tradesmen
The Thrush and the Fowler
The Tortoise and the Eagle
The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse
The Traveler and Fortune
The Traveler and his Dog
The Travelers and the Plane-Tree
The Trees and the Axe
The Trees Under the Protection of the Gods
The Trumpeter Taken Prisoner
Truth and the Traveler
The Two Bags
The Two Dogs
The Two Frogs
The Two Frogs
The Two Men Who Were Enemies
The Two Pots
The Two Soldiers and the Robber
The Two Travelers and the Axe
The Vain Jackdaw
The Vine and the Goat
The Viper and the File
The Walnut-Tree
The Wasp and the Snake
The Wasps, the Partridges, and the Farmer
The Weasel and the Mice
The Widow and Her Little Maidens
The Widow and the Sheep
The Wild Ass and the Lion
The Wild Boar and the Fox
The Wolf and the Crane
The Wolf and the Fox
The Wolf and the Goat
The Wolf and the Horse
The Wolf and the Housedog
The Wolf and the Lamb
The Wolf and the Lion
The Wolf and the Lion
The Wolf and the Sheep
The Wolf and the Shepherd
The Wolf and the Shepherds
The Wolf, the Fox, and the Ape
The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
The Wolves and the Sheep
The Wolves and the Sheepdogs
The Woman and her Hen
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
The war of the worlds
/
The War of the Worlds
by H. G. Wells
‘But who shall dwell in these worlds if they be inhabited?
. . . Are we or they Lords of the World? . . . And
how are all things made for man?’
KEPLER (quoted in _The Anatomy of Melancholy_)
Contents
BOOK ONE.—THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS
I. THE EVE OF THE WAR.
II. THE FALLING STAR.
III. ON HORSELL COMMON.
IV. THE CYLINDER OPENS.
V. THE HEAT-RAY.
VI. THE HEAT-RAY IN THE CHOBHAM ROAD.
VII. HOW I REACHED HOME.
VIII. FRIDAY NIGHT.
IX. THE FIGHTING BEGINS.
X. IN THE STORM.
XI. AT THE WINDOW.
XII. WHAT I SAW OF THE DESTRUCTION OF WEYBRIDGE AND SHEPPERTON.
XIII. HOW I FELL IN WITH THE CURATE.
XIV. IN LONDON.
XV. WHAT HAD HAPPENED IN SURREY.
XVI. THE EXODUS FROM LONDON.
XVII. THE “THUNDER CHILD”.
BOOK TWO.—THE EARTH UNDER THE MARTIANS
I. UNDER FOOT.
II. WHAT WE SAW FROM THE RUINED HOUSE.
III. THE DAYS OF IMPRISONMENT.
IV. THE DEATH OF THE CURATE.
V. THE STILLNESS.
VI. THE WORK OF FIFTEEN DAYS.
VII. THE MAN ON PUTNEY HILL.
VIII. DEAD LONDON.
IX. WRECKAGE.
X. THE EPILOGUE.
BOOK ONE
THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS
I.
THE EVE OF THE WAR.
No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century
that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences
greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied
themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and
studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might
scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of
water. With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this globe
about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire
over matter. It is possible that the infusoria under the microscope do
the same. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources
of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life
upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of
the mental habits of those departed days. At most terrestrial men
fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to
themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the
gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the
beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic,
regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their
plans against us. And early in the twentieth century came the great
disillusionment.
The planet Mars, I scarcely need remind the reader, revolves about the
sun at a mean distance of 140,000,000 miles, and the light and heat it
receives from the sun is barely half of that received by this world. It
must be, if the nebular hypothesis has any truth, older than our world;
and long before this earth ceased to be molten, life upon its surface
must have begun its course. The fact that it is scarcely one seventh of
the volume of the earth must have accelerated its cooling to the
temperature at which life could begin. It has air and water and all
that is necessary for the support of animated existence.
Yet so vain is man, and so blinded by his vanity, that no writer, up to
the very end of the nineteenth century, expressed any idea that
intelligent life might have developed there far, or indeed at all,
beyond its earthly level. Nor was it generally understood that since
Mars is older than our earth, with scarcely a quarter of the
superficial area and remoter from the sun, it necessarily follows that
it is not only more distant from time’s beginning but nearer its end.
The secular cooling that must someday overtake our planet has already
gone far indeed with our neighbour. Its physical condition is still
largely a mystery, but we know now that even in its equatorial region
the midday temperature barely approaches that of our coldest winter.
Its air is much more attenuated than ours, its oceans have shrunk until
they cover but a third of its surface, and as its slow seasons change
huge snowcaps gather and melt about either pole and periodically
inundate its temperate zones. That last stage of exhaustion, which to
us is still incredibly remote, has become a present-day problem for the
inhabitants of Mars. The immediate pressure of necessity has brightened
their intellects, enlarged their powers, and hardened their hearts. And
looking across space with instruments, and intelligences such as we
have scarcely dreamed of, they see, at its nearest distance only
35,000,000 of miles sunward of them, a morning star of hope, our own
warmer planet, green with vegetation and grey with water, with a cloudy
atmosphere eloquent of fertility, with glimpses through its drifting
cloud wisps of broad stretches of populous country and narrow,
navy-crowded seas.
And we men, the creatures who inhabit this earth, must be to them at
least as alien and lowly as are the monkeys and lemurs to us. The
intellectual side of man already admits that life is an incessant
struggle for existence, and it would seem that this too is the belief
of the minds upon Mars. Their world is far gone in its cooling and this
world is still crowded with life, but crowded only with what they
regard as inferior animals. To carry warfare sunward is, indeed, their
only escape from the destruction that, generation after generation,
creeps upon them.
And before we judge of them too harshly we must remember what ruthless
and utter destruction our own species has wrought, not only upon
animals, such as the vanished bison and the dodo, but upon its inferior
races. The Tasmanians, in spite of their human likeness, were entirely
swept out of existence in a war of extermination waged by European
immigrants, in the space of fifty years. Are we such apostles of mercy
as to complain if the Martians warred in the same spirit?
The Martians seem to have calculated their descent with amazing
subtlety—their mathematical learning is evidently far in excess of
ours—and to have carried out their preparations with a well-nigh
perfect unanimity. Had our instruments permitted it, we might have seen
the gathering trouble far back in the nineteenth century. Men like
Schiaparelli watched the red planet—it is odd, by-the-bye, that for
countless centuries Mars has been the star of war—but failed to
interpret the fluctuating appearances of the markings they mapped so
well. All that time the Martians must have been getting ready.
During the opposition of 1894 a great light was seen on the illuminated
part of the disk, first at the Lick Observatory, then by Perrotin of
Nice, and then by other observers. English readers heard of it first in
the issue of _Nature_ dated August 2. I am inclined to think that this
blaze may have been the casting of the huge gun, in the vast pit sunk
into their planet, from which their shots were fired at us. Peculiar
markings, as yet unexplained, were seen near the site of that outbreak
during the next two oppositions.
The storm burst upon us six years ago now. As Mars approached
opposition, Lavelle of Java set the wires of the astronomical exchange
palpitating with the amazing intelligence of a huge outbreak of
incandescent gas upon the planet. It had occurred towards midnight of
the twelfth; and the spectroscope, to which he had at once resorted,
indicated a mass of flaming gas, chiefly hydrogen, moving with an
enormous velocity towards this earth. This jet of fire had become
invisible about a quarter past twelve. He compared it to a colossal
puff of flame suddenly and violently squirted out of the planet, “as
flaming gases rushed out of a gun.”
A singularly appropriate phrase it proved. Yet the next day there was
nothing of this in the papers except a little note in the _Daily
Telegraph_, and the world went in ignorance of one of the gravest
dangers that ever threatened the human race. I might not have heard of
the eruption at all had I not met Ogilvy, the well-known astronomer, at
Ottershaw. He was immensely excited at the news, and in the excess of
his feelings invited me up to take a turn with him that night in a
scrutiny of the red planet.
In spite of all that has happened since, I still remember that vigil
very distinctly: the black and silent observatory, the shadowed lantern
throwing a feeble glow upon the floor in the corner, the steady ticking
of the clockwork of the telescope, the little slit in the roof—an
oblong profundity with the stardust streaked across it. Ogilvy moved
about, invisible but audible. Looking through the telescope, one saw a
circle of deep blue and the little round planet swimming in the field.
It seemed such a little thing, so bright and small and still, faintly
marked with transverse stripes, and slightly flattened from the perfect
round. But so little it was, so silvery warm—a pin’s head of light! It
was as if it quivered, but really this was the telescope vibrating with
the activity of the clockwork that kept the planet in view.
As I watched, the planet seemed to grow larger and smaller and to
advance and recede, but that was simply that my eye was tired. Forty
millions of miles it was from us—more than forty millions of miles of
void. Few people realise the immensity of vacancy in which the dust of
the material universe swims.
Near it in the field, I remember, were three faint points of light,
three telescopic stars infinitely remote, and all around it was the
unfathomable darkness of empty space. You know how that blackness looks
on a frosty starlight night. In a telescope it seems far profounder.
And invisible to me because it was so remote and small, flying swiftly
and steadily towards me across that incredible distance, drawing nearer
every minute by so many thousands of miles, came the Thing they were
sending us, the Thing that was to bring so much struggle and calamity
and death to the earth. I never dreamed of it then as I watched; no one
on earth dreamed of that unerring missile.
That night, too, there was another jetting out of gas from the distant
planet. I saw it. A reddish flash at the edge, the slightest projection
of the outline just as the chronometer struck midnight; and at that I
told Ogilvy and he took my place. The night was warm and I was thirsty,
and I went stretching my legs clumsily and feeling my way in the
darkness, to the little table where the siphon stood, while Ogilvy
exclaimed at the streamer of gas that came out towards us.
That night another invisible missile started on its way to the earth
from Mars, just a second or so under twenty-four hours after the first
one. I remember how I sat on the table there in the blackness, with
patches of green and crimson swimming before my eyes. I wished I had a
light to smoke by, little suspecting the meaning of the minute gleam I
had seen and all that it would presently bring me. Ogilvy watched till
one, and then gave it up; and we lit the lantern and walked over to his
house. Down below in the darkness were Ottershaw and Chertsey and all
their hundreds of people, sleeping in peace.
He was full of speculation that night about the condition of Mars, and
scoffed at the vulgar idea of its having inhabitants who were
signalling us. His idea was that meteorites might be falling in a heavy
shower upon the planet, or that a huge volcanic explosion was in
progress. He pointed out to me how unlikely it was that organic
evolution had taken the same direction in the two adjacent planets.
“The chances against anything manlike on Mars are a million to one,” he
said.
Hundreds of observers saw the flame that night and the night after
about midnight, and again the night after; and so for ten nights, a
flame each night. Why the shots ceased after the tenth no one on earth
has attempted to explain. It may be the gases of the firing caused the
Martians inconvenience. Dense clouds of smoke or dust, visible through
a powerful telescope on earth as little grey, fluctuating patches,
spread through the clearness of the planet’s atmosphere and obscured
its more familiar features.
Even the daily papers woke up to the disturbances at last, and popular
notes appeared here, there, and everywhere concerning the volcanoes
upon Mars. The seriocomic periodical _Punch_, I remember, made a happy
use of it in the political cartoon. And, all unsuspected, those
missiles the Martians had fired at us drew earthward, rushing now at a
pace of many miles a second through the empty gulf of space, hour by
hour and day by day, nearer and nearer. It seems to me now almost
incredibly wonderful that, with that swift fate hanging over us, men
could go about their petty concerns as they did. I remember how
jubilant Markham was at securing a new photograph of the planet for the
illustrated paper he edited in those days. People in these latter times
scarcely realise the abundance and enterprise of our nineteenth-century
papers. For my own part, I was much occupied in learning to ride the
bicycle, and busy upon a series of papers discussing the probable
developments of moral ideas as civilisation progressed.
One night (the first missile then could scarcely have been 10,000,000
miles away) I went for a walk with my wife. It was starlight and I
explained the Signs of the Zodiac to her, and pointed out Mars, a
bright dot of light creeping zenithward, towards which so many
telescopes were pointed. It was a warm night. Coming home, a party of
excursionists from Chertsey or Isleworth passed us singing and playing
music. There were lights in the upper windows of the houses as the
people went to bed. From the railway station in the distance came the
sound of shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost into
melody by the distance. My wife pointed out to me the brightness of the
red, green, and yellow signal lights hanging in a framework against the
sky. It seemed so safe and tranquil.
II.
THE FALLING STAR.
Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the
morning, rushing over Winchester eastward, a line of flame high in the
atmosphere. Hundreds must have seen it, and taken it for an ordinary
falling star. Albin described it as leaving a greenish streak behind it
that glowed for some seconds. Denning, our greatest authority on
meteorites, stated that the height of its first appearance was about
ninety or one hundred miles. It seemed to him that it fell to earth
about one hundred miles east of him.
I was at home at that hour and writing in my study; and although my
French windows face towards Ottershaw and the blind was up (for I loved
in those days to look up at the night sky), I saw nothing of it. Yet
this strangest of all things that ever came to earth from outer space
must have fallen while I was sitting there, visible to me had I only
looked up as it passed. Some of those who saw its flight say it
travelled with a hissing sound. I myself heard nothing of that. Many
people in Berkshire, Surrey, and Middlesex must have seen the fall of
it, and, at most, have thought that another meteorite had descended. No
one seems to have troubled to look for the fallen mass that night.
But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who had seen the shooting
star and who was persuaded that a meteorite lay somewhere on the common
between Horsell, Ottershaw, and Woking, rose early with the idea of
finding it. Find it he did, soon after dawn, and not far from the
sand-pits. An enormous hole had been made by the impact of the
projectile, and the sand and gravel had been flung violently in every
direction over the heath, forming heaps visible a mile and a half away.
The heather was on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke rose against
the dawn.
The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand, amidst the
scattered splinters of a fir tree it had shivered to fragments in its
descent. The uncovered part had the appearance of a huge cylinder,
caked over and its outline softened by a thick scaly dun-coloured
incrustation. It had a diameter of about thirty yards. He approached
the mass, surprised at the size and more so at the shape, since most
meteorites are rounded more or less completely. It was, however, still
so hot from its flight through the air as to forbid his near approach.
A stirring noise within its cylinder he ascribed to the unequal cooling
of its surface; for at that time it had not occurred to him that it
might be hollow.
He remained standing at the edge of the pit that the Thing had made for
itself, staring at its strange appearance, astonished chiefly at its
unusual shape and colour, and dimly perceiving even then some evidence
of design in its arrival. The early morning was wonderfully still, and
the sun, just clearing the pine trees towards Weybridge, was already
warm. He did not remember hearing any birds that morning, there was
certainly no breeze stirring, and the only sounds were the faint
movements from within the cindery cylinder. He was all alone on the
common.
Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of the grey clinker,
the ashy incrustation that covered the meteorite, was falling off the
circular edge of the end. It was dropping off in flakes and raining
down upon the sand. A large piece suddenly came off and fell with a
sharp noise that brought his heart into his mouth.
For a minute he scarcely realised what this meant, and, although the
heat was excessive, he clambered down into the pit close to the bulk to
see the Thing more clearly. He fancied even then that the cooling of
the body might account for this, but what disturbed that idea was the
fact that the ash was falling only from the end of the cylinder.
And then he perceived that, very slowly, the circular top of the
cylinder was rotating on its body. It was such a gradual movement that
he discovered it only through noticing that a black mark that had been
near him five minutes ago was now at the other side of the
circumference. Even then he scarcely understood what this indicated,
until he heard a muffled grating sound and saw the black mark jerk
forward an inch or so. Then the thing came upon him in a flash. The
cylinder was artificial—hollow—with an end that screwed out! Something
within the cylinder was unscrewing the top!
“Good heavens!” said Ogilvy. “There’s a man in it—men in it! Half
roasted to death! Trying to escape!”
At once, with a quick mental leap, he linked the Thing with the flash
upon Mars.
The thought of the confined creature was so dreadful to him that he
forgot the heat and went forward to the cylinder to help turn. But
luckily the dull radiation arrested him before he could burn his hands
on the still-glowing metal. At that he stood irresolute for a moment,
then turned, scrambled out of the pit, and set off running wildly into
Woking. The time then must have been somewhere about six o’clock. He
met a waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale he told
and his appearance were so wild—his hat had fallen off in the pit—that
the man simply drove on. He was equally unsuccessful with the potman
who was just unlocking the doors of the public-house by Horsell Bridge.
The fellow thought he was a lunatic at large and made an unsuccessful
attempt to shut him into the taproom. That sobered him a little; and
when he saw Henderson, the London journalist, in his garden, he called
over the palings and made himself understood.
“Henderson,” he called, “you saw that shooting star last night?”
“Well?” said Henderson.
“It’s out on Horsell Common now.”
“Good Lord!” said Henderson. “Fallen meteorite! That’s good.”
“But it’s something more than a meteorite. It’s a cylinder—an
artificial cylinder, man! And there’s something inside.”
Henderson stood up with his spade in his hand.
“What’s that?” he said. He was deaf in one ear.
Ogilvy told him all that he had seen. Henderson was a minute or so
taking it in. Then he dropped his spade, snatched up his jacket, and
came out into the road. The two men hurried back at once to the common,
and found the cylinder still lying in the same position. But now the
sounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal showed
between the top and the body of the cylinder. Air was either entering
or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound.
They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with a stick, and,
meeting with no response, they both concluded the man or men inside
must be insensible or dead.
Of course the two were quite unable to do anything. They shouted
consolation and promises, and went off back to the town again to get
help. One can imagine them, covered with sand, excited and disordered,
running up the little street in the bright sunlight just as the shop
folks were taking down their shutters and people were opening their
bedroom windows. Henderson went into the railway station at once, in
order to telegraph the news to London. The newspaper articles had
prepared men’s minds for the reception of the idea.
By eight o’clock a number of boys and unemployed men had already
started for the common to see the “dead men from Mars.” That was the
form the story took. I heard of it first from my newspaper boy about a
quarter to nine when I went out to get my _Daily Chronicle_. I was
naturally startled, and lost no time in going out and across the
Ottershaw bridge to the sand-pits.
III.
ON HORSELL COMMON.
I found a little crowd of perhaps twenty people surrounding the huge
hole in which the cylinder lay. I have already described the appearance
of that colossal bulk, embedded in the ground. The turf and gravel
about it seemed charred as if by a sudden explosion. No doubt its
impact had caused a flash of fire. Henderson and Ogilvy were not there.
I think they perceived that nothing was to be done for the present, and
had gone away to breakfast at Henderson’s house.
There were four or five boys sitting on the edge of the Pit, with their
feet dangling, and amusing themselves—until I stopped them—by throwing
stones at the giant mass. After I had spoken to them about it, they
began playing at “touch” in and out of the group of bystanders.
Among these were a couple of cyclists, a jobbing gardener I employed
sometimes, a girl carrying a baby, Gregg the butcher and his little
boy, and two or three loafers and golf caddies who were accustomed to
hang about the railway station. There was very little talking. Few of
the common people in England had anything but the vaguest astronomical
ideas in those days. Most of them were staring quietly at the big table
like end of the cylinder, which was still as Ogilvy and Henderson had
left it. I fancy the popular expectation of a heap of charred corpses
was disappointed at this inanimate bulk. Some went away while I was
there, and other people came. I clambered into the pit and fancied I
heard a faint movement under my feet. The top had certainly ceased to
rotate.
It was only when I got thus close to it that the strangeness of this
object was at all evident to me. At the first glance it was really no
more exciting than an overturned carriage or a tree blown across the
road. Not so much so, indeed. It looked like a rusty gas float. It
required a certain amount of scientific education to perceive that the
grey scale of the Thing was no common oxide, that the yellowish-white
metal that gleamed in the crack between the lid and the cylinder had an
unfamiliar hue. “Extra-terrestrial” had no meaning for most of the
onlookers.
At that time it was quite clear in my own mind that the Thing had come
from the planet Mars, but I judged it improbable that it contained any
living creature. I thought the unscrewing might be automatic. In spite
of Ogilvy, I still believed that there were men in Mars. My mind ran
fancifully on the possibilities of its containing manuscript, on the
difficulties in translation that might arise, whether we should find
coins and models in it, and so forth. Yet it was a little too large for
assurance on this idea. I felt an impatience to see it opened. About
eleven, as nothing seemed happening, I walked back, full of such
thought, to my home in Maybury. But I found it difficult to get to work
upon my abstract investigations.
In the afternoon the appearance of the common had altered very much.
The early editions of the evening papers had startled London with
enormous headlines:
“A MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM MARS.”
“REMARKABLE STORY FROM WOKING,”
and so forth. In addition, Ogilvy’s wire to the Astronomical Exchange
had roused every observatory in the three kingdoms.
There were half a dozen flys or more from the Woking station standing
in the road by the sand-pits, a basket-chaise from Chobham, and a
rather lordly carriage. Besides that, there was quite a heap of
bicycles. In addition, a large number of people must have walked, in
spite of the heat of the day, from Woking and Chertsey, so that there
was altogether quite a considerable crowd—one or two gaily dressed
ladies among the others.
It was glaringly hot, not a cloud in the sky nor a breath of wind, and
the only shadow was that of the few scattered pine trees. The burning
heather had been extinguished, but the level ground towards Ottershaw
was blackened as far as one could see, and still giving off vertical
streamers of smoke. An enterprising sweet-stuff dealer in the Chobham
Road had sent up his son with a barrow-load of green apples and ginger
beer.
Going to the edge of the pit, I found it occupied by a group of about
half a dozen men—Henderson, Ogilvy, and a tall, fair-haired man that I
afterwards learned was Stent, the Astronomer Royal, with several
workmen wielding spades and pickaxes. Stent was giving directions in a
clear, high-pitched voice. He was standing on the cylinder, which was
now evidently much cooler; his face was crimson and streaming with
perspiration, and something seemed to have irritated him.
A large portion of the cylinder had been uncovered, though its lower
end was still embedded. As soon as Ogilvy saw me among the staring
crowd on the edge of the pit he called to me to come down, and asked me
if I would mind going over to see Lord Hilton, the lord of the manor.
The growing crowd, he said, was becoming a serious impediment to their
excavations, especially the boys. They wanted a light railing put up,
and help to keep the people back. He told me that a faint stirring was
occasionally still audible within the case, but that the workmen had
failed to unscrew the top, as it afforded no grip to them. The case
appeared to be enormously thick, and it was possible that the faint
sounds we heard represented a noisy tumult in the interior.
I was very glad to do as he asked, and so become one of the privileged
spectators within the contemplated enclosure. I failed to find Lord
Hilton at his house, but I was told he was expected from London by the
six o’clock train from Waterloo; and as it was then about a quarter
past five, I went home, had some tea, and walked up to the station to
waylay him.
IV.
THE CYLINDER OPENS.
When I returned to the common the sun was setting. Scattered groups
were hurrying from the direction of Woking, and one or two persons were
returning. The crowd about the pit had increased, and stood out black
against the lemon yellow of the sky—a couple of hundred people,
perhaps. There were raised voices, and some sort of struggle appeared
to be going on about the pit. Strange imaginings passed through my
mind. As I drew nearer I heard Stent’s voice:
“Keep back! Keep back!”
A boy came running towards me.
“It’s a-movin’,” he said to me as he passed; “a-screwin’ and a-screwin’
out. I don’t like it. I’m a-goin’ ’ome, I am.”
I went on to the crowd. There were really, I should think, two or three
hundred people elbowing and jostling one another, the one or two ladies
there being by no means the least active.
“He’s fallen in the pit!” cried some one.
“Keep back!” said several.
The crowd swayed a little, and I elbowed my way through. Every one
seemed greatly excited. I heard a peculiar humming sound from the pit.
“I say!” said Ogilvy; “help keep these idiots back. We don’t know
what’s in the confounded thing, you know!”
I saw a young man, a shop assistant in Woking I believe he was,
standing on the cylinder and trying to scramble out of the hole again.
The crowd had pushed him in.
The end of the cylinder was being screwed out from within. Nearly two
feet of shining screw projected. Somebody blundered against me, and I
narrowly missed being pitched onto the top of the screw. I turned, and
as I did so the screw must have come out, for the lid of the cylinder
fell upon the gravel with a ringing concussion. I stuck my elbow into
the person behind me, and turned my head towards the Thing again. For a
moment that circular cavity seemed perfectly black. I had the sunset in
my eyes.
I think everyone expected to see a man emerge—possibly something a
little unlike us terrestrial men, but in all essentials a man. I know I
did. But, looking, I presently saw something stirring within the
shadow: greyish billowy movements, one above another, and then two
luminous disks—like eyes. Then something resembling a little grey
snake, about the thickness of a walking stick, coiled up out of the
writhing middle, and wriggled in the air towards me—and then another.
A sudden chill came over me. There was a loud shriek from a woman
behind. I half turned, keeping my eyes fixed upon the cylinder still,
from which other tentacles were now projecting, and began pushing my
way back from the edge of the pit. I saw astonishment giving place to
horror on the faces of the people about me. I heard inarticulate
exclamations on all sides. There was a general movement backwards. I
saw the shopman struggling still on the edge of the pit. I found myself
alone, and saw the people on the other side of the pit running off,
Stent among them. I looked again at the cylinder, and ungovernable
terror gripped me. I stood petrified and staring.
A big greyish rounded bulk, the size, perhaps, of a bear, was rising
slowly and painfully out of the cylinder. As it bulged up and caught
the light, it glistened like wet leather.
Two large dark-coloured eyes were regarding me steadfastly. The mass
that framed them, the head of the thing, was rounded, and had, one
might say, a face. There was a mouth under the eyes, the lipless brim
of which quivered and panted, and dropped saliva. The whole creature
heaved and pulsated convulsively. A lank tentacular appendage gripped
the edge of the cylinder, another swayed in the air.
Those who have never seen a living Martian can scarcely imagine the
strange horror of its appearance. The peculiar V-shaped mouth with its
pointed upper lip, the absence of brow ridges, the absence of a chin
beneath the wedgelike lower lip, the incessant quivering of this mouth,
the Gorgon groups of tentacles, the tumultuous breathing of the lungs
in a strange atmosphere, the evident heaviness and painfulness of
movement due to the greater gravitational energy of the earth—above
all, the extraordinary intensity of the immense eyes—were at once
vital, intense, inhuman, crippled and monstrous. There was something
fungoid in the oily brown skin, something in the clumsy deliberation of
the tedious movements unspeakably nasty. Even at this first encounter,
this first glimpse, I was overcome with disgust and dread.
Suddenly the monster vanished. It had toppled over the brim of the
cylinder and fallen into the pit, with a thud like the fall of a great
mass of leather. I heard it give a peculiar thick cry, and forthwith
another of these creatures appeared darkly in the deep shadow of the
aperture.
I turned and, running madly, made for the first group of trees, perhaps
a hundred yards away; but I ran slantingly and stumbling, for I could
not avert my face from these things.
There, among some young pine trees and furze bushes, I stopped,
panting, and waited further developments. The common round the
sand-pits was dotted with people, standing like myself in a
half-fascinated terror, staring at these creatures, or rather at the
heaped gravel at the edge of the pit in which they lay. And then, with
a renewed horror, I saw a round, black object bobbing up and down on
the edge of the pit. It was the head of the shopman who had fallen in,
but showing as a little black object against the hot western sun. Now
he got his shoulder and knee up, and again he seemed to slip back until
only his head was visible. Suddenly he vanished, and I could have
fancied a faint shriek had reached me. I had a momentary impulse to go
back and help him that my fears overruled.
Everything was then quite invisible, hidden by the deep pit and the
heap of sand that the fall of the cylinder had made. Anyone coming
along the road from Chobham or Woking would have been amazed at the
sight—a dwindling multitude of perhaps a hundred people or more
standing in a great irregular circle, in ditches, behind bushes, behind
gates and hedges, saying little to one another and that in short,
excited shouts, and staring, staring hard at a few heaps of sand. The
barrow of ginger beer stood, a queer derelict, black against the
burning sky, and in the sand-pits was a row of deserted vehicles with
their horses feeding out of nosebags or pawing the ground.
V.
THE HEAT-RAY.
After the glimpse I had had of the Martians emerging from the cylinder
in which they had come to the earth from their planet, a kind of
fascination paralysed my actions. I remained standing knee-deep in the
heather, staring at the mound that hid them. I was a battleground of
fear and curiosity.
I did not dare to go back towards the pit, but I felt a passionate
longing to peer into it. I began walking, therefore, in a big curve,
seeking some point of vantage and continually looking at the sand-heaps
that hid these new-comers to our earth. Once a leash of thin black
whips, like the arms of an octopus, flashed across the sunset and was
immediately withdrawn, and afterwards a thin rod rose up, joint by
joint, bearing at its apex a circular disk that spun with a wobbling
motion. What could be going on there?
Most of the spectators had gathered in one or two groups—one a little
crowd towards Woking, the other a knot of people in the direction of
Chobham. Evidently they shared my mental conflict. There were few near
me. One man I approached—he was, I perceived, a neighbour of mine,
though I did not know his name—and accosted. But it was scarcely a time
for articulate conversation.
“What ugly _brutes_!” he said. “Good God! What ugly brutes!” He
repeated this over and over again.
“Did you see a man in the pit?” I said; but he made no answer to that.
We became silent, and stood watching for a time side by side, deriving,
I fancy, a certain comfort in one another’s company. Then I shifted my
position to a little knoll that gave me the advantage of a yard or more
of elevation and when I looked for him presently he was walking towards
Woking.
The sunset faded to twilight before anything further happened. The
crowd far away on the left, towards Woking, seemed to grow, and I heard
now a faint murmur from it. The little knot of people towards Chobham
dispersed. There was scarcely an intimation of movement from the pit.
It was this, as much as anything, that gave people courage, and I
suppose the new arrivals from Woking also helped to restore confidence.
At any rate, as the dusk came on a slow, intermittent movement upon the
sand-pits began, a movement that seemed to gather force as the
stillness of the evening about the cylinder remained unbroken. Vertical
black figures in twos and threes would advance, stop, watch, and
advance again, spreading out as they did so in a thin irregular
crescent that promised to enclose the pit in its attenuated horns. I,
too, on my side began to move towards the pit.
Then I saw some cabmen and others had walked boldly into the sand-pits,
and heard the clatter of hoofs and the gride of wheels. I saw a lad
trundling off the barrow of apples. And then, within thirty yards of
the pit, advancing from the direction of Horsell, I noted a little
black knot of men, the foremost of whom was waving a white flag.
This was the Deputation. There had been a hasty consultation, and since
the Martians were evidently, in spite of their repulsive forms,
intelligent creatures, it had been resolved to show them, by
approaching them with signals, that we too were intelligent.
Flutter, flutter, went the flag, first to the right, then to the left.
It was too far for me to recognise anyone there, but afterwards I
learned that Ogilvy, Stent, and Henderson were with others in this
attempt at communication. This little group had in its advance dragged
inward, so to speak, the circumference of the now almost complete
circle of people, and a number of dim black figures followed it at
discreet distances.
Suddenly there was a flash of light, and a quantity of luminous
greenish smoke came out of the pit in three distinct puffs, which drove
up, one after the other, straight into the still air.
This smoke (or flame, perhaps, would be the better word for it) was so
bright that the deep blue sky overhead and the hazy stretches of brown
common towards Chertsey, set with black pine trees, seemed to darken
abruptly as these puffs arose, and to remain the darker after their
dispersal. At the same time a faint hissing sound became audible.
Beyond the pit stood the little wedge of people with the white flag at
its apex, arrested by these phenomena, a little knot of small vertical
black shapes upon the black ground. As the green smoke arose, their
faces flashed out pallid green, and faded again as it vanished. Then
slowly the hissing passed into a humming, into a long, loud, droning
noise. Slowly a humped shape rose out of the pit, and the ghost of a
beam of light seemed to flicker out from it.
Forthwith flashes of actual flame, a bright glare leaping from one to
another, sprang from the scattered group of men. It was as if some
invisible jet impinged upon them and flashed into white flame. It was
as if each man were suddenly and momentarily turned to fire.
Then, by the light of their own destruction, I saw them staggering and
falling, and their supporters turning to run.
I stood staring, not as yet realising that this was death leaping from
man to man in that little distant crowd. All I felt was that it was
something very strange. An almost noiseless and blinding flash of
light, and a man fell headlong and lay still; and as the unseen shaft
of heat passed over them, pine trees burst into fire, and every dry
furze bush became with one dull thud a mass of flames. And far away
towards Knaphill I saw the flashes of trees and hedges and wooden
buildings suddenly set alight.
It was sweeping round swiftly and steadily, this flaming death, this
invisible, inevitable sword of heat. I perceived it coming towards me
by the flashing bushes it touched, and was too astounded and stupefied
to stir. I heard the crackle of fire in the sand-pits and the sudden
squeal of a horse that was as suddenly stilled. Then it was as if an
invisible yet intensely heated finger were drawn through the heather
between me and the Martians, and all along a curving line beyond the
sand-pits the dark ground smoked and crackled. Something fell with a
crash far away to the left where the road from Woking station opens out
on the common. Forth-with the hissing and humming ceased, and the
black, dome-like object sank slowly out of sight into the pit.
All this had happened with such swiftness that I had stood motionless,
dumbfounded and dazzled by the flashes of light. Had that death swept
through a full circle, it must inevitably have slain me in my surprise.
But it passed and spared me, and left the night about me suddenly dark
and unfamiliar.
The undulating common seemed now dark almost to blackness, except where
its roadways lay grey and pale under the deep blue sky of the early
night. It was dark, and suddenly void of men. Overhead the stars were
mustering, and in the west the sky was still a pale, bright, almost
greenish blue. The tops of the pine trees and the roofs of Horsell came
out sharp and black against the western afterglow. The Martians and
their appliances were altogether invisible, save for that thin mast
upon which their restless mirror wobbled. Patches of bush and isolated
trees here and there smoked and glowed still, and the houses towards
Woking station were sending up spires of flame into the stillness of
the evening air.
Nothing was changed save for that and a terrible astonishment. The
little group of black specks with the flag of white had been swept out
of existence, and the stillness of the evening, so it seemed to me, had
scarcely been broken.
It came to me that I was upon this dark common, helpless, unprotected,
and alone. Suddenly, like a thing falling upon me from without,
came—fear.
With an effort I turned and began a stumbling run through the heather.
The fear I felt was no rational fear, but a panic terror not only of
the Martians, but of the dusk and stillness all about me. Such an
extraordinary effect in unmanning me it had that I ran weeping silently
as a child might do. Once I had turned, I did not dare to look back.
I remember I felt an extraordinary persuasion that I was being played
with, that presently, when I was upon the very verge of safety, this
mysterious death—as swift as the passage of light—would leap after me
from the pit about the cylinder, and strike me down.
VI.
THE HEAT-RAY IN THE CHOBHAM ROAD.
It is still a matter of wonder how the Martians are able to slay men so
swiftly and so silently. Many think that in some way they are able to
generate an intense heat in a chamber of practically absolute
non-conductivity. This intense heat they project in a parallel beam
against any object they choose, by means of a polished parabolic mirror
of unknown composition, much as the parabolic mirror of a lighthouse
projects a beam of light. But no one has absolutely proved these
details. However it is done, it is certain that a beam of heat is the
essence of the matter. Heat, and invisible, instead of visible, light.
Whatever is combustible flashes into flame at its touch, lead runs like
water, it softens iron, cracks and melts glass, and when it falls upon
water, incontinently that explodes into steam.
That night nearly forty people lay under the starlight about the pit,
charred and distorted beyond recognition, and all night long the common
from Horsell to Maybury was deserted and brightly ablaze.
The news of the massacre probably reached Chobham, Woking, and
Ottershaw about the same time. In Woking the shops had closed when the
tragedy happened, and a number of people, shop people and so forth,
attracted by the stories they had heard, were walking over the Horsell
Bridge and along the road between the hedges that runs out at last upon
the common. You may imagine the young people brushed up after the
labours of the day, and making this novelty, as they would make any
novelty, the excuse for walking together and enjoying a trivial
flirtation. You may figure to yourself the hum of voices along the road
in the gloaming. . . .
As yet, of course, few people in Woking even knew that the cylinder had
opened, though poor Henderson had sent a messenger on a bicycle to the
post office with a special wire to an evening paper.
As these folks came out by twos and threes upon the open, they found
little knots of people talking excitedly and peering at the spinning
mirror over the sand-pits, and the newcomers were, no doubt, soon
infected by the excitement of the occasion.
By half past eight, when the Deputation was destroyed, there may have
been a crowd of three hundred people or more at this place, besides
those who had left the road to approach the Martians nearer. There were
three policemen too, one of whom was mounted, doing their best, under
instructions from Stent, to keep the people back and deter them from
approaching the cylinder. There was some booing from those more
thoughtless and excitable souls to whom a crowd is always an occasion
for noise and horse-play.
Stent and Ogilvy, anticipating some possibilities of a collision, had
telegraphed from Horsell to the barracks as soon as the Martians
emerged, for the help of a company of soldiers to protect these strange
creatures from violence. After that they returned to lead that
ill-fated advance. The description of their death, as it was seen by
the crowd, tallies very closely with my own impressions: the three
puffs of green smoke, the deep humming note, and the flashes of flame.
But that crowd of people had a far narrower escape than mine. Only the
fact that a hummock of heathery sand intercepted the lower part of the
Heat-Ray saved them. Had the elevation of the parabolic mirror been a
few yards higher, none could have lived to tell the tale. They saw the
flashes and the men falling and an invisible hand, as it were, lit the
bushes as it hurried towards them through the twilight. Then, with a
whistling note that rose above the droning of the pit, the beam swung
close over their heads, lighting the tops of the beech trees that line
the road, and splitting the bricks, smashing the windows, firing the
window frames, and bringing down in crumbling ruin a portion of the
gable of the house nearest the corner.
In the sudden thud, hiss, and glare of the igniting trees, the
panic-stricken crowd seems to have swayed hesitatingly for some
moments. Sparks and burning twigs began to fall into the road, and
single leaves like puffs of flame. Hats and dresses caught fire. Then
came a crying from the common. There were shrieks and shouts, and
suddenly a mounted policeman came galloping through the confusion with
his hands clasped over his head, screaming.
“They’re coming!” a woman shrieked, and incontinently everyone was
turning and pushing at those behind, in order to clear their way to
Woking again. They must have bolted as blindly as a flock of sheep.
Where the road grows narrow and black between the high banks the crowd
jammed, and a desperate struggle occurred. All that crowd did not
escape; three persons at least, two women and a little boy, were
crushed and trampled there, and left to die amid the terror and the
darkness.
VII.
HOW I REACHED HOME.
For my own part, I remember nothing of my flight except the stress of
blundering against trees and stumbling through the heather. All about
me gathered the invisible terrors of the Martians; that pitiless sword
of heat seemed whirling to and fro, flourishing overhead before it
descended and smote me out of life. I came into the road between the
crossroads and Horsell, and ran along this to the crossroads.
At last I could go no further; I was exhausted with the violence of my
emotion and of my flight, and I staggered and fell by the wayside. That
was near the bridge that crosses the canal by the gasworks. I fell and
lay still.
I must have remained there some time.
I sat up, strangely perplexed. For a moment, perhaps, I could not
clearly understand how I came there. My terror had fallen from me like
a garment. My hat had gone, and my collar had burst away from its
fastener. A few minutes before, there had only been three real things
before me—the immensity of the night and space and nature, my own
feebleness and anguish, and the near approach of death. Now it was as
if something turned over, and the point of view altered abruptly. There
was no sensible transition from one state of mind to the other. I was
immediately the self of every day again—a decent, ordinary citizen. The
silent common, the impulse of my flight, the starting flames, were as
if they had been in a dream. I asked myself had these latter things
indeed happened? I could not credit it.
I rose and walked unsteadily up the steep incline of the bridge. My
mind was blank wonder. My muscles and nerves seemed drained of their
strength. I dare say I staggered drunkenly. A head rose over the arch,
and the figure of a workman carrying a basket appeared. Beside him ran
a little boy. He passed me, wishing me good night. I was minded to
speak to him, but did not. I answered his greeting with a meaningless
mumble and went on over the bridge.
Over the Maybury arch a train, a billowing tumult of white, firelit
smoke, and a long caterpillar of lighted windows, went flying
south—clatter, clatter, clap, rap, and it had gone. A dim group of
people talked in the gate of one of the houses in the pretty little row
of gables that was called Oriental Terrace. It was all so real and so
familiar. And that behind me! It was frantic, fantastic! Such things, I
told myself, could not be.
Perhaps I am a man of exceptional moods. I do not know how far my
experience is common. At times I suffer from the strangest sense of
detachment from myself and the world about me; I seem to watch it all
from the outside, from somewhere inconceivably remote, out of time, out
of space, out of the stress and tragedy of it all. This feeling was
very strong upon me that night. Here was another side to my dream.
But the trouble was the blank incongruity of this serenity and the
swift death flying yonder, not two miles away. There was a noise of
business from the gasworks, and the electric lamps were all alight. I
stopped at the group of people.
“What news from the common?” said I.
There were two men and a woman at the gate.
“Eh?” said one of the men, turning.
“What news from the common?” I said.
“Ain’t yer just _been_ there?” asked the men.
“People seem fair silly about the common,” said the woman over the
gate. “What’s it all abart?”
“Haven’t you heard of the men from Mars?” said I; “the creatures from
Mars?”
“Quite enough,” said the woman over the gate. “Thenks;” and all three
of them laughed.
I felt foolish and angry. I tried and found I could not tell them what
I had seen. They laughed again at my broken sentences.
“You’ll hear more yet,” I said, and went on to my home.
I startled my wife at the doorway, so haggard was I. I went into the
dining room, sat down, drank some wine, and so soon as I could collect
myself sufficiently I told her the things I had seen. The dinner, which
was a cold one, had already been served, and remained neglected on the
table while I told my story.
“There is one thing,” I said, to allay the fears I had aroused; “they
are the most sluggish things I ever saw crawl. They may keep the pit
and kill people who come near them, but they cannot get out of it. . .
. But the horror of them!”
“Don’t, dear!” said my wife, knitting her brows and putting her hand on
mine.
“Poor Ogilvy!” I said. “To think he may be lying dead there!”
My wife at least did not find my experience incredible. When I saw how
deadly white her face was, I ceased abruptly.
“They may come here,” she said again and again.
I pressed her to take wine, and tried to reassure her.
“They can scarcely move,” I said.
I began to comfort her and myself by repeating all that Ogilvy had told
me of the impossibility of the Martians establishing themselves on the
earth. In particular I laid stress on the gravitational difficulty. On
the surface of the earth the force of gravity is three times what it is
on the surface of Mars. A Martian, therefore, would weigh three times
more than on Mars, albeit his muscular strength would be the same. His
own body would be a cope of lead to him, therefore. That, indeed, was
the general opinion. Both _The Times_ and the _Daily Telegraph_, for
instance, insisted on it the next morning, and both overlooked, just as
I did, two obvious modifying influences.
The atmosphere of the earth, we now know, contains far more oxygen or
far less argon (whichever way one likes to put it) than does Mars’. The
invigorating influences of this excess of oxygen upon the Martians
indisputably did much to counterbalance the increased weight of their
bodies. And, in the second place, we all overlooked the fact that such
mechanical intelligence as the Martian possessed was quite able to
dispense with muscular exertion at a pinch.
But I did not consider these points at the time, and so my reasoning
was dead against the chances of the invaders. With wine and food, the
confidence of my own table, and the necessity of reassuring my wife, I
grew by insensible degrees courageous and secure.
“They have done a foolish thing,” said I, fingering my wineglass. “They
are dangerous because, no doubt, they are mad with terror. Perhaps they
expected to find no living things—certainly no intelligent living
things.”
“A shell in the pit,” said I, “if the worst comes to the worst, will
kill them all.”
The intense excitement of the events had no doubt left my perceptive
powers in a state of erethism. I remember that dinner table with
extraordinary vividness even now. My dear wife’s sweet anxious face
peering at me from under the pink lamp shade, the white cloth with its
silver and glass table furniture—for in those days even philosophical
writers had many little luxuries—the crimson-purple wine in my glass,
are photographically distinct. At the end of it I sat, tempering nuts
with a cigarette, regretting Ogilvy’s rashness, and denouncing the
short-sighted timidity of the Martians.
So some respectable dodo in the Mauritius might have lorded it in his
nest, and discussed the arrival of that shipful of pitiless sailors in
want of animal food. “We will peck them to death tomorrow, my dear.”
I did not know it, but that was the last civilised dinner I was to eat
for very many strange and terrible days.
VIII.
FRIDAY NIGHT.
The most extraordinary thing to my mind, of all the strange and
wonderful things that happened upon that Friday, was the dovetailing of
the commonplace habits of our social order with the first beginnings of
the series of events that was to topple that social order headlong. If
on Friday night you had taken a pair of compasses and drawn a circle
with a radius of five miles round the Woking sand-pits, I doubt if you
would have had one human being outside it, unless it were some relation
of Stent or of the three or four cyclists or London people lying dead
on the common, whose emotions or habits were at all affected by the
new-comers. Many people had heard of the cylinder, of course, and
talked about it in their leisure, but it certainly did not make the
sensation that an ultimatum to Germany would have done.
In London that night poor Henderson’s telegram describing the gradual
unscrewing of the shot was judged to be a canard, and his evening
paper, after wiring for authentication from him and receiving no
reply—the man was killed—decided not to print a special edition.
Even within the five-mile circle the great majority of people were
inert. I have already described the behaviour of the men and women to
whom I spoke. All over the district people were dining and supping;
working men were gardening after the labours of the day, children were
being put to bed, young people were wandering through the lanes
love-making, students sat over their books.
Maybe there was a murmur in the village streets, a novel and dominant
topic in the public-houses, and here and there a messenger, or even an
eye-witness of the later occurrences, caused a whirl of excitement, a
shouting, and a running to and fro; but for the most part the daily
routine of working, eating, drinking, sleeping, went on as it had done
for countless years—as though no planet Mars existed in the sky. Even
at Woking station and Horsell and Chobham that was the case.
In Woking junction, until a late hour, trains were stopping and going
on, others were shunting on the sidings, passengers were alighting and
waiting, and everything was proceeding in the most ordinary way. A boy
from the town, trenching on Smith’s monopoly, was selling papers with
the afternoon’s news. The ringing impact of trucks, the sharp whistle
of the engines from the junction, mingled with their shouts of “Men
from Mars!” Excited men came into the station about nine o’clock with
incredible tidings, and caused no more disturbance than drunkards might
have done. People rattling Londonwards peered into the darkness outside
the carriage windows, and saw only a rare, flickering, vanishing spark
dance up from the direction of Horsell, a red glow and a thin veil of
smoke driving across the stars, and thought that nothing more serious
than a heath fire was happening. It was only round the edge of the
common that any disturbance was perceptible. There were half a dozen
villas burning on the Woking border. There were lights in all the
houses on the common side of the three villages, and the people there
kept awake till dawn.
A curious crowd lingered restlessly, people coming and going but the
crowd remaining, both on the Chobham and Horsell bridges. One or two
adventurous souls, it was afterwards found, went into the darkness and
crawled quite near the Martians; but they never returned, for now and
again a light-ray, like the beam of a warship’s searchlight swept the
common, and the Heat-Ray was ready to follow. Save for such, that big
area of common was silent and desolate, and the charred bodies lay
about on it all night under the stars, and all the next day. A noise of
hammering from the pit was heard by many people.
So you have the state of things on Friday night. In the centre,
sticking into the skin of our old planet Earth like a poisoned dart,
was this cylinder. But the poison was scarcely working yet. Around it
was a patch of silent common, smouldering in places, and with a few
dark, dimly seen objects lying in contorted attitudes here and there.
Here and there was a burning bush or tree. Beyond was a fringe of
excitement, and farther than that fringe the inflammation had not crept
as yet. In the rest of the world the stream of life still flowed as it
had flowed for immemorial years. The fever of war that would presently
clog vein and artery, deaden nerve and destroy brain, had still to
develop.
All night long the Martians were hammering and stirring, sleepless,
indefatigable, at work upon the machines they were making ready, and
ever and again a puff of greenish-white smoke whirled up to the starlit
sky.
About eleven a company of soldiers came through Horsell, and deployed
along the edge of the common to form a cordon. Later a second company
marched through Chobham to deploy on the north side of the common.
Several officers from the Inkerman barracks had been on the common
earlier in the day, and one, Major Eden, was reported to be missing.
The colonel of the regiment came to the Chobham bridge and was busy
questioning the crowd at midnight. The military authorities were
certainly alive to the seriousness of the business. About eleven, the
next morning’s papers were able to say, a squadron of hussars, two
Maxims, and about four hundred men of the Cardigan regiment started
from Aldershot.
A few seconds after midnight the crowd in the Chertsey road, Woking,
saw a star fall from heaven into the pine woods to the northwest. It
had a greenish colour, and caused a silent brightness like summer
lightning. This was the second cylinder.
IX.
THE FIGHTING BEGINS.
Saturday lives in my memory as a day of suspense. It was a day of
lassitude too, hot and close, with, I am told, a rapidly fluctuating
barometer. I had slept but little, though my wife had succeeded in
sleeping, and I rose early. I went into my garden before breakfast and
stood listening, but towards the common there was nothing stirring but
a lark.
The milkman came as usual. I heard the rattle of his chariot and I went
round to the side gate to ask the latest news. He told me that during
the night the Martians had been surrounded by troops, and that guns
were expected. Then—a familiar, reassuring note—I heard a train running
towards Woking.
“They aren’t to be killed,” said the milkman, “if that can possibly be
avoided.”
I saw my neighbour gardening, chatted with him for a time, and then
strolled in to breakfast. It was a most unexceptional morning. My
neighbour was of opinion that the troops would be able to capture or to
destroy the Martians during the day.
“It’s a pity they make themselves so unapproachable,” he said. “It
would be curious to know how they live on another planet; we might
learn a thing or two.”
He came up to the fence and extended a handful of strawberries, for his
gardening was as generous as it was enthusiastic. At the same time he
told me of the burning of the pine woods about the Byfleet Golf Links.
“They say,” said he, “that there’s another of those blessed things
fallen there—number two. But one’s enough, surely. This lot’ll cost the
insurance people a pretty penny before everything’s settled.” He
laughed with an air of the greatest good humour as he said this. The
woods, he said, were still burning, and pointed out a haze of smoke to
me. “They will be hot under foot for days, on account of the thick soil
of pine needles and turf,” he said, and then grew serious over “poor
Ogilvy.”
After breakfast, instead of working, I decided to walk down towards the
common. Under the railway bridge I found a group of soldiers—sappers, I
think, men in small round caps, dirty red jackets unbuttoned, and
showing their blue shirts, dark trousers, and boots coming to the calf.
They told me no one was allowed over the canal, and, looking along the
road towards the bridge, I saw one of the Cardigan men standing
sentinel there. I talked with these soldiers for a time; I told them of
my sight of the Martians on the previous evening. None of them had seen
the Martians, and they had but the vaguest ideas of them, so that they
plied me with questions. They said that they did not know who had
authorised the movements of the troops; their idea was that a dispute
had arisen at the Horse Guards. The ordinary sapper is a great deal
better educated than the common soldier, and they discussed the
peculiar conditions of the possible fight with some acuteness. I
described the Heat-Ray to them, and they began to argue among
themselves.
“Crawl up under cover and rush ’em, say I,” said one.
“Get aht!” said another. “What’s cover against this ’ere ’eat? Sticks
to cook yer! What we got to do is to go as near as the ground’ll let
us, and then drive a trench.”
“Blow yer trenches! You always want trenches; you ought to ha’ been
born a rabbit, Snippy.”
“Ain’t they got any necks, then?” said a third, abruptly—a little,
contemplative, dark man, smoking a pipe.
I repeated my description.
“Octopuses,” said he, “that’s what I calls ’em. Talk about fishers of
men—fighters of fish it is this time!”
“It ain’t no murder killing beasts like that,” said the first speaker.
“Why not shell the darned things strite off and finish ’em?” said the
little dark man. “You carn tell what they might do.”
“Where’s your shells?” said the first speaker. “There ain’t no time. Do
it in a rush, that’s my tip, and do it at once.”
So they discussed it. After a while I left them, and went on to the
railway station to get as many morning papers as I could.
But I will not weary the reader with a description of that long morning
and of the longer afternoon. I did not succeed in getting a glimpse of
the common, for even Horsell and Chobham church towers were in the
hands of the military authorities. The soldiers I addressed didn’t know
anything; the officers were mysterious as well as busy. I found people
in the town quite secure again in the presence of the military, and I
heard for the first time from Marshall, the tobacconist, that his son
was among the dead on the common. The soldiers had made the people on
the outskirts of Horsell lock up and leave their houses.
I got back to lunch about two, very tired for, as I have said, the day
was extremely hot and dull; and in order to refresh myself I took a
cold bath in the afternoon. About half past four I went up to the
railway station to get an evening paper, for the morning papers had
contained only a very inaccurate description of the killing of Stent,
Henderson, Ogilvy, and the others. But there was little I didn’t know.
The Martians did not show an inch of themselves. They seemed busy in
their pit, and there was a sound of hammering and an almost continuous
streamer of smoke. Apparently they were busy getting ready for a
struggle. “Fresh attempts have been made to signal, but without
success,” was the stereotyped formula of the papers. A sapper told me
it was done by a man in a ditch with a flag on a long pole. The
Martians took as much notice of such advances as we should of the
lowing of a cow.
I must confess the sight of all this armament, all this preparation,
greatly excited me. My imagination became belligerent, and defeated the
invaders in a dozen striking ways; something of my schoolboy dreams of
battle and heroism came back. It hardly seemed a fair fight to me at
that time. They seemed very helpless in that pit of theirs.
About three o’clock there began the thud of a gun at measured intervals
from Chertsey or Addlestone. I learned that the smouldering pine wood
into which the second cylinder had fallen was being shelled, in the
hope of destroying that object before it opened. It was only about
five, however, that a field gun reached Chobham for use against the
first body of Martians.
About six in the evening, as I sat at tea with my wife in the
summerhouse talking vigorously about the battle that was lowering upon
us, I heard a muffled detonation from the common, and immediately after
a gust of firing. Close on the heels of that came a violent rattling
crash, quite close to us, that shook the ground; and, starting out upon
the lawn, I saw the tops of the trees about the Oriental College burst
into smoky red flame, and the tower of the little church beside it
slide down into ruin. The pinnacle of the mosque had vanished, and the
roof line of the college itself looked as if a hundred-ton gun had been
at work upon it. One of our chimneys cracked as if a shot had hit it,
flew, and a piece of it came clattering down the tiles and made a heap
of broken red fragments upon the flower bed by my study window.
I and my wife stood amazed. Then I realised that the crest of Maybury
Hill must be within range of the Martians’ Heat-Ray now that the
college was cleared out of the way.
At that I gripped my wife’s arm, and without ceremony ran her out into
the road. Then I fetched out the servant, telling her I would go
upstairs myself for the box she was clamouring for.
“We can’t possibly stay here,” I said; and as I spoke the firing
reopened for a moment upon the common.
“But where are we to go?” said my wife in terror.
I thought perplexed. Then I remembered her cousins at Leatherhead.
“Leatherhead!” I shouted above the sudden noise.
She looked away from me downhill. The people were coming out of their
houses, astonished.
“How are we to get to Leatherhead?” she said.
Down the hill I saw a bevy of hussars ride under the railway bridge;
three galloped through the open gates of the Oriental College; two
others dismounted, and began running from house to house. The sun,
shining through the smoke that drove up from the tops of the trees,
seemed blood red, and threw an unfamiliar lurid light upon everything.
“Stop here,” said I; “you are safe here;” and I started off at once for
the Spotted Dog, for I knew the landlord had a horse and dog cart. I
ran, for I perceived that in a moment everyone upon this side of the
hill would be moving. I found him in his bar, quite unaware of what was
going on behind his house. A man stood with his back to me, talking to
him.
“I must have a pound,” said the landlord, “and I’ve no one to drive
it.”
“I’ll give you two,” said I, over the stranger’s shoulder.
“What for?”
“And I’ll bring it back by midnight,” I said.
“Lord!” said the landlord; “what’s the hurry? I’m selling my bit of a
pig. Two pounds, and you bring it back? What’s going on now?”
I explained hastily that I had to leave my home, and so secured the dog
cart. At the time it did not seem to me nearly so urgent that the
landlord should leave his. I took care to have the cart there and then,
drove it off down the road, and, leaving it in charge of my wife and
servant, rushed into my house and packed a few valuables, such plate as
we had, and so forth. The beech trees below the house were burning
while I did this, and the palings up the road glowed red. While I was
occupied in this way, one of the dismounted hussars came running up. He
was going from house to house, warning people to leave. He was going on
as I came out of my front door, lugging my treasures, done up in a
tablecloth. I shouted after him:
“What news?”
He turned, stared, bawled something about “crawling out in a thing like
a dish cover,” and ran on to the gate of the house at the crest. A
sudden whirl of black smoke driving across the road hid him for a
moment. I ran to my neighbour’s door and rapped to satisfy myself of
what I already knew, that his wife had gone to London with him and had
locked up their house. I went in again, according to my promise, to get
my servant’s box, lugged it out, clapped it beside her on the tail of
the dog cart, and then caught the reins and jumped up into the driver’s
seat beside my wife. In another moment we were clear of the smoke and
noise, and spanking down the opposite slope of Maybury Hill towards Old
Woking.
In front was a quiet sunny landscape, a wheat field ahead on either
side of the road, and the Maybury Inn with its swinging sign. I saw the
doctor’s cart ahead of me. At the bottom of the hill I turned my head
to look at the hillside I was leaving. Thick streamers of black smoke
shot with threads of red fire were driving up into the still air, and
throwing dark shadows upon the green treetops eastward. The smoke
already extended far away to the east and west—to the Byfleet pine
woods eastward, and to Woking on the west. The road was dotted with
people running towards us. And very faint now, but very distinct
through the hot, quiet air, one heard the whirr of a machine-gun that
was presently stilled, and an intermittent cracking of rifles.
Apparently the Martians were setting fire to everything within range of
their Heat-Ray.
I am not an expert driver, and I had immediately to turn my attention
to the horse. When I looked back again the second hill had hidden the
black smoke. I slashed the horse with the whip, and gave him a loose
rein until Woking and Send lay between us and that quivering tumult. I
overtook and passed the doctor between Woking and Send.
X.
IN THE STORM.
Leatherhead is about twelve miles from Maybury Hill. The scent of hay
was in the air through the lush meadows beyond Pyrford, and the hedges
on either side were sweet and gay with multitudes of dog-roses. The
heavy firing that had broken out while we were driving down Maybury
Hill ceased as abruptly as it began, leaving the evening very peaceful
and still. We got to Leatherhead without misadventure about nine
o’clock, and the horse had an hour’s rest while I took supper with my
cousins and commended my wife to their care.
My wife was curiously silent throughout the drive, and seemed oppressed
with forebodings of evil. I talked to her reassuringly, pointing out
that the Martians were tied to the pit by sheer heaviness, and at the
utmost could but crawl a little out of it; but she answered only in
monosyllables. Had it not been for my promise to the innkeeper, she
would, I think, have urged me to stay in Leatherhead that night. Would
that I had! Her face, I remember, was very white as we parted.
For my own part, I had been feverishly excited all day. Something very
like the war fever that occasionally runs through a civilised community
had got into my blood, and in my heart I was not so very sorry that I
had to return to Maybury that night. I was even afraid that that last
fusillade I had heard might mean the extermination of our invaders from
Mars. I can best express my state of mind by saying that I wanted to be
in at the death.
It was nearly eleven when I started to return. The night was
unexpectedly dark; to me, walking out of the lighted passage of my
cousins’ house, it seemed indeed black, and it was as hot and close as
the day. Overhead the clouds were driving fast, albeit not a breath
stirred the shrubs about us. My cousins’ man lit both lamps. Happily, I
knew the road intimately. My wife stood in the light of the doorway,
and watched me until I jumped up into the dog cart. Then abruptly she
turned and went in, leaving my cousins side by side wishing me good
hap.
I was a little depressed at first with the contagion of my wife’s
fears, but very soon my thoughts reverted to the Martians. At that time
I was absolutely in the dark as to the course of the evening’s
fighting. I did not know even the circumstances that had precipitated
the conflict. As I came through Ockham (for that was the way I
returned, and not through Send and Old Woking) I saw along the western
horizon a blood-red glow, which as I drew nearer, crept slowly up the
sky. The driving clouds of the gathering thunderstorm mingled there
with masses of black and red smoke.
Ripley Street was deserted, and except for a lighted window or so the
village showed not a sign of life; but I narrowly escaped an accident
at the corner of the road to Pyrford, where a knot of people stood with
their backs to me. They said nothing to me as I passed. I do not know
what they knew of the things happening beyond the hill, nor do I know
if the silent houses I passed on my way were sleeping securely, or
deserted and empty, or harassed and watching against the terror of the
night.
From Ripley until I came through Pyrford I was in the valley of the
Wey, and the red glare was hidden from me. As I ascended the little
hill beyond Pyrford Church the glare came into view again, and the
trees about me shivered with the first intimation of the storm that was
upon me. Then I heard midnight pealing out from Pyrford Church behind
me, and then came the silhouette of Maybury Hill, with its tree-tops
and roofs black and sharp against the red.
Even as I beheld this a lurid green glare lit the road about me and
showed the distant woods towards Addlestone. I felt a tug at the reins.
I saw that the driving clouds had been pierced as it were by a thread
of green fire, suddenly lighting their confusion and falling into the
field to my left. It was the third falling star!
Close on its apparition, and blindingly violet by contrast, danced out
the first lightning of the gathering storm, and the thunder burst like
a rocket overhead. The horse took the bit between his teeth and bolted.
A moderate incline runs towards the foot of Maybury Hill, and down this
we clattered. Once the lightning had begun, it went on in as rapid a
succession of flashes as I have ever seen. The thunderclaps, treading
one on the heels of another and with a strange crackling accompaniment,
sounded more like the working of a gigantic electric machine than the
usual detonating reverberations. The flickering light was blinding and
confusing, and a thin hail smote gustily at my face as I drove down the
slope.
At first I regarded little but the road before me, and then abruptly my
attention was arrested by something that was moving rapidly down the
opposite slope of Maybury Hill. At first I took it for the wet roof of
a house, but one flash following another showed it to be in swift
rolling movement. It was an elusive vision—a moment of bewildering
darkness, and then, in a flash like daylight, the red masses of the
Orphanage near the crest of the hill, the green tops of the pine trees,
and this problematical object came out clear and sharp and bright.
And this Thing I saw! How can I describe it? A monstrous tripod, higher
than many houses, striding over the young pine trees, and smashing them
aside in its career; a walking engine of glittering metal, striding now
across the heather; articulate ropes of steel dangling from it, and the
clattering tumult of its passage mingling with the riot of the thunder.
A flash, and it came out vividly, heeling over one way with two feet in
the air, to vanish and reappear almost instantly as it seemed, with the
next flash, a hundred yards nearer. Can you imagine a milking stool
tilted and bowled violently along the ground? That was the impression
those instant flashes gave. But instead of a milking stool imagine it a
great body of machinery on a tripod stand.
Then suddenly the trees in the pine wood ahead of me were parted, as
brittle reeds are parted by a man thrusting through them; they were
snapped off and driven headlong, and a second huge tripod appeared,
rushing, as it seemed, headlong towards me. And I was galloping hard to
meet it! At the sight of the second monster my nerve went altogether.
Not stopping to look again, I wrenched the horse’s head hard round to
the right and in another moment the dog cart had heeled over upon the
horse; the shafts smashed noisily, and I was flung sideways and fell
heavily into a shallow pool of water.
I crawled out almost immediately, and crouched, my feet still in the
water, under a clump of furze. The horse lay motionless (his neck was
broken, poor brute!) and by the lightning flashes I saw the black bulk
of the overturned dog cart and the silhouette of the wheel still
spinning slowly. In another moment the colossal mechanism went striding
by me, and passed uphill towards Pyrford.
Seen nearer, the Thing was incredibly strange, for it was no mere
insensate machine driving on its way. Machine it was, with a ringing
metallic pace, and long, flexible, glittering tentacles (one of which
gripped a young pine tree) swinging and rattling about its strange
body. It picked its road as it went striding along, and the brazen hood
that surmounted it moved to and fro with the inevitable suggestion of a
head looking about. Behind the main body was a huge mass of white metal
like a gigantic fisherman’s basket, and puffs of green smoke squirted
out from the joints of the limbs as the monster swept by me. And in an
instant it was gone.
So much I saw then, all vaguely for the flickering of the lightning, in
blinding highlights and dense black shadows.
As it passed it set up an exultant deafening howl that drowned the
thunder—“Aloo! Aloo!”—and in another minute it was with its companion,
half a mile away, stooping over something in the field. I have no doubt
this Thing in the field was the third of the ten cylinders they had
fired at us from Mars.
For some minutes I lay there in the rain and darkness watching, by the
intermittent light, these monstrous beings of metal moving about in the
distance over the hedge tops. A thin hail was now beginning, and as it
came and went their figures grew misty and then flashed into clearness
again. Now and then came a gap in the lightning, and the night
swallowed them up.
I was soaked with hail above and puddle water below. It was some time
before my blank astonishment would let me struggle up the bank to a
drier position, or think at all of my imminent peril.
Not far from me was a little one-roomed squatter’s hut of wood,
surrounded by a patch of potato garden. I struggled to my feet at last,
and, crouching and making use of every chance of cover, I made a run
for this. I hammered at the door, but I could not make the people hear
(if there were any people inside), and after a time I desisted, and,
availing myself of a ditch for the greater part of the way, succeeded
in crawling, unobserved by these monstrous machines, into the pine
woods towards Maybury.
Under cover of this I pushed on, wet and shivering now, towards my own
house. I walked among the trees trying to find the footpath. It was
very dark indeed in the wood, for the lightning was now becoming
infrequent, and the hail, which was pouring down in a torrent, fell in
columns through the gaps in the heavy foliage.
If I had fully realised the meaning of all the things I had seen I
should have immediately worked my way round through Byfleet to Street
Cobham, and so gone back to rejoin my wife at Leatherhead. But that
night the strangeness of things about me, and my physical wretchedness,
prevented me, for I was bruised, weary, wet to the skin, deafened and
blinded by the storm.
I had a vague idea of going on to my own house, and that was as much
motive as I had. I staggered through the trees, fell into a ditch and
bruised my knees against a plank, and finally splashed out into the
lane that ran down from the College Arms. I say splashed, for the storm
water was sweeping the sand down the hill in a muddy torrent. There in
the darkness a man blundered into me and sent me reeling back.
He gave a cry of terror, sprang sideways, and rushed on before I could
gather my wits sufficiently to speak to him. So heavy was the stress of
the storm just at this place that I had the hardest task to win my way
up the hill. I went close up to the fence on the left and worked my way
along its palings.
Near the top I stumbled upon something soft, and, by a flash of
lightning, saw between my feet a heap of black broadcloth and a pair of
boots. Before I could distinguish clearly how the man lay, the flicker
of light had passed. I stood over him waiting for the next flash. When
it came, I saw that he was a sturdy man, cheaply but not shabbily
dressed; his head was bent under his body, and he lay crumpled up close
to the fence, as though he had been flung violently against it.
Overcoming the repugnance natural to one who had never before touched a
dead body, I stooped and turned him over to feel for his heart. He was
quite dead. Apparently his neck had been broken. The lightning flashed
for a third time, and his face leaped upon me. I sprang to my feet. It
was the landlord of the Spotted Dog, whose conveyance I had taken.
I stepped over him gingerly and pushed on up the hill. I made my way by
the police station and the College Arms towards my own house. Nothing
was burning on the hillside, though from the common there still came a
red glare and a rolling tumult of ruddy smoke beating up against the
drenching hail. So far as I could see by the flashes, the houses about
me were mostly uninjured. By the College Arms a dark heap lay in the
road.
Down the road towards Maybury Bridge there were voices and the sound of
feet, but I had not the courage to shout or to go to them. I let myself
in with my latchkey, closed, locked and bolted the door, staggered to
the foot of the staircase, and sat down. My imagination was full of
those striding metallic monsters, and of the dead body smashed against
the fence.
I crouched at the foot of the staircase with my back to the wall,
shivering violently.
XI.
AT THE WINDOW.
I have already said that my storms of emotion have a trick of
exhausting themselves. After a time I discovered that I was cold and
wet, and with little pools of water about me on the stair carpet. I got
up almost mechanically, went into the dining room and drank some
whisky, and then I was moved to change my clothes.
After I had done that I went upstairs to my study, but why I did so I
do not know. The window of my study looks over the trees and the
railway towards Horsell Common. In the hurry of our departure this
window had been left open. The passage was dark, and, by contrast with
the picture the window frame enclosed, the side of the room seemed
impenetrably dark. I stopped short in the doorway.
The thunderstorm had passed. The towers of the Oriental College and the
pine trees about it had gone, and very far away, lit by a vivid red
glare, the common about the sand-pits was visible. Across the light
huge black shapes, grotesque and strange, moved busily to and fro.
It seemed indeed as if the whole country in that direction was on
fire—a broad hillside set with minute tongues of flame, swaying and
writhing with the gusts of the dying storm, and throwing a red
reflection upon the cloud scud above. Every now and then a haze of
smoke from some nearer conflagration drove across the window and hid
the Martian shapes. I could not see what they were doing, nor the clear
form of them, nor recognise the black objects they were busied upon.
Neither could I see the nearer fire, though the reflections of it
danced on the wall and ceiling of the study. A sharp, resinous tang of
burning was in the air.
I closed the door noiselessly and crept towards the window. As I did
so, the view opened out until, on the one hand, it reached to the
houses about Woking station, and on the other to the charred and
blackened pine woods of Byfleet. There was a light down below the hill,
on the railway, near the arch, and several of the houses along the
Maybury road and the streets near the station were glowing ruins. The
light upon the railway puzzled me at first; there were a black heap and
a vivid glare, and to the right of that a row of yellow oblongs. Then I
perceived this was a wrecked train, the fore part smashed and on fire,
the hinder carriages still upon the rails.
Between these three main centres of light—the houses, the train, and
the burning county towards Chobham—stretched irregular patches of dark
country, broken here and there by intervals of dimly glowing and
smoking ground. It was the strangest spectacle, that black expanse set
with fire. It reminded me, more than anything else, of the Potteries at
night. At first I could distinguish no people at all, though I peered
intently for them. Later I saw against the light of Woking station a
number of black figures hurrying one after the other across the line.
And this was the little world in which I had been living securely for
years, this fiery chaos! What had happened in the last seven hours I
still did not know; nor did I know, though I was beginning to guess,
the relation between these mechanical colossi and the sluggish lumps I
had seen disgorged from the cylinder. With a queer feeling of
impersonal interest I turned my desk chair to the window, sat down, and
stared at the blackened country, and particularly at the three gigantic
black things that were going to and fro in the glare about the
sand-pits.
They seemed amazingly busy. I began to ask myself what they could be.
Were they intelligent mechanisms? Such a thing I felt was impossible.
Or did a Martian sit within each, ruling, directing, using, much as a
man’s brain sits and rules in his body? I began to compare the things
to human machines, to ask myself for the first time in my life how an
ironclad or a steam engine would seem to an intelligent lower animal.
The storm had left the sky clear, and over the smoke of the burning
land the little fading pinpoint of Mars was dropping into the west,
when a soldier came into my garden. I heard a slight scraping at the
fence, and rousing myself from the lethargy that had fallen upon me, I
looked down and saw him dimly, clambering over the palings. At the
sight of another human being my torpor passed, and I leaned out of the
window eagerly.
“Hist!” said I, in a whisper.
He stopped astride of the fence in doubt. Then he came over and across
the lawn to the corner of the house. He bent down and stepped softly.
“Who’s there?” he said, also whispering, standing under the window and
peering up.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“God knows.”
“Are you trying to hide?”
“That’s it.”
“Come into the house,” I said.
I went down, unfastened the door, and let him in, and locked the door
again. I could not see his face. He was hatless, and his coat was
unbuttoned.
“My God!” he said, as I drew him in.
“What has happened?” I asked.
“What hasn’t?” In the obscurity I could see he made a gesture of
despair. “They wiped us out—simply wiped us out,” he repeated again and
again.
He followed me, almost mechanically, into the dining room.
“Take some whisky,” I said, pouring out a stiff dose.
He drank it. Then abruptly he sat down before the table, put his head
on his arms, and began to sob and weep like a little boy, in a perfect
passion of emotion, while I, with a curious forgetfulness of my own
recent despair, stood beside him, wondering.
It was a long time before he could steady his nerves to answer my
questions, and then he answered perplexingly and brokenly. He was a
driver in the artillery, and had only come into action about seven. At
that time firing was going on across the common, and it was said the
first party of Martians were crawling slowly towards their second
cylinder under cover of a metal shield.
Later this shield staggered up on tripod legs and became the first of
the fighting-machines I had seen. The gun he drove had been unlimbered
near Horsell, in order to command the sand-pits, and its arrival it was
that had precipitated the action. As the limber gunners went to the
rear, his horse trod in a rabbit hole and came down, throwing him into
a depression of the ground. At the same moment the gun exploded behind
him, the ammunition blew up, there was fire all about him, and he found
himself lying under a heap of charred dead men and dead horses.
“I lay still,” he said, “scared out of my wits, with the fore quarter
of a horse atop of me. We’d been wiped out. And the smell—good God!
Like burnt meat! I was hurt across the back by the fall of the horse,
and there I had to lie until I felt better. Just like parade it had
been a minute before—then stumble, bang, swish!
“Wiped out!” he said.
He had hid under the dead horse for a long time, peeping out furtively
across the common. The Cardigan men had tried a rush, in skirmishing
order, at the pit, simply to be swept out of existence. Then the
monster had risen to its feet and had begun to walk leisurely to and
fro across the common among the few fugitives, with its headlike hood
turning about exactly like the head of a cowled human being. A kind of
arm carried a complicated metallic case, about which green flashes
scintillated, and out of the funnel of this there smoked the Heat-Ray.
In a few minutes there was, so far as the soldier could see, not a
living thing left upon the common, and every bush and tree upon it that
was not already a blackened skeleton was burning. The hussars had been
on the road beyond the curvature of the ground, and he saw nothing of
them. He heard the Maxims rattle for a time and then become still. The
giant saved Woking station and its cluster of houses until the last;
then in a moment the Heat-Ray was brought to bear, and the town became
a heap of fiery ruins. Then the Thing shut off the Heat-Ray, and
turning its back upon the artilleryman, began to waddle away towards
the smouldering pine woods that sheltered the second cylinder. As it
did so a second glittering Titan built itself up out of the pit.
The second monster followed the first, and at that the artilleryman
began to crawl very cautiously across the hot heather ash towards
Horsell. He managed to get alive into the ditch by the side of the
road, and so escaped to Woking. There his story became ejaculatory. The
place was impassable. It seems there were a few people alive there,
frantic for the most part and many burned and scalded. He was turned
aside by the fire, and hid among some almost scorching heaps of broken
wall as one of the Martian giants returned. He saw this one pursue a
man, catch him up in one of its steely tentacles, and knock his head
against the trunk of a pine tree. At last, after nightfall, the
artilleryman made a rush for it and got over the railway embankment.
Since then he had been skulking along towards Maybury, in the hope of
getting out of danger Londonward. People were hiding in trenches and
cellars, and many of the survivors had made off towards Woking village
and Send. He had been consumed with thirst until he found one of the
water mains near the railway arch smashed, and the water bubbling out
like a spring upon the road.
That was the story I got from him, bit by bit. He grew calmer telling
me and trying to make me see the things he had seen. He had eaten no
food since midday, he told me early in his narrative, and I found some
mutton and bread in the pantry and brought it into the room. We lit no
lamp for fear of attracting the Martians, and ever and again our hands
would touch upon bread or meat. As he talked, things about us came
darkly out of the darkness, and the trampled bushes and broken rose
trees outside the window grew distinct. It would seem that a number of
men or animals had rushed across the lawn. I began to see his face,
blackened and haggard, as no doubt mine was also.
When we had finished eating we went softly upstairs to my study, and I
looked again out of the open window. In one night the valley had become
a valley of ashes. The fires had dwindled now. Where flames had been
there were now streamers of smoke; but the countless ruins of shattered
and gutted houses and blasted and blackened trees that the night had
hidden stood out now gaunt and terrible in the pitiless light of dawn.
Yet here and there some object had had the luck to escape—a white
railway signal here, the end of a greenhouse there, white and fresh
amid the wreckage. Never before in the history of warfare had
destruction been so indiscriminate and so universal. And shining with
the growing light of the east, three of the metallic giants stood about
the pit, their cowls rotating as though they were surveying the
desolation they had made.
It seemed to me that the pit had been enlarged, and ever and again
puffs of vivid green vapour streamed up and out of it towards the
brightening dawn—streamed up, whirled, broke, and vanished.
Beyond were the pillars of fire about Chobham. They became pillars of
bloodshot smoke at the first touch of day.
XII.
WHAT I SAW OF THE DESTRUCTION OF WEYBRIDGE AND SHEPPERTON.
As the dawn grew brighter we withdrew from the window from which we had
watched the Martians, and went very quietly downstairs.
The artilleryman agreed with me that the house was no place to stay in.
He proposed, he said, to make his way Londonward, and thence rejoin his
battery—No. 12, of the Horse Artillery. My plan was to return at once
to Leatherhead; and so greatly had the strength of the Martians
impressed me that I had determined to take my wife to Newhaven, and go
with her out of the country forthwith. For I already perceived clearly
that the country about London must inevitably be the scene of a
disastrous struggle before such creatures as these could be destroyed.
Between us and Leatherhead, however, lay the third cylinder, with its
guarding giants. Had I been alone, I think I should have taken my
chance and struck across country. But the artilleryman dissuaded me:
“It’s no kindness to the right sort of wife,” he said, “to make her a
widow;” and in the end I agreed to go with him, under cover of the
woods, northward as far as Street Cobham before I parted with him.
Thence I would make a big detour by Epsom to reach Leatherhead.
I should have started at once, but my companion had been in active
service and he knew better than that. He made me ransack the house for
a flask, which he filled with whisky; and we lined every available
pocket with packets of biscuits and slices of meat. Then we crept out
of the house, and ran as quickly as we could down the ill-made road by
which I had come overnight. The houses seemed deserted. In the road lay
a group of three charred bodies close together, struck dead by the
Heat-Ray; and here and there were things that people had dropped—a
clock, a slipper, a silver spoon, and the like poor valuables. At the
corner turning up towards the post office a little cart, filled with
boxes and furniture, and horseless, heeled over on a broken wheel. A
cash box had been hastily smashed open and thrown under the debris.
Except the lodge at the Orphanage, which was still on fire, none of the
houses had suffered very greatly here. The Heat-Ray had shaved the
chimney tops and passed. Yet, save ourselves, there did not seem to be
a living soul on Maybury Hill. The majority of the inhabitants had
escaped, I suppose, by way of the Old Woking road—the road I had taken
when I drove to Leatherhead—or they had hidden.
We went down the lane, by the body of the man in black, sodden now from
the overnight hail, and broke into the woods at the foot of the hill.
We pushed through these towards the railway without meeting a soul. The
woods across the line were but the scarred and blackened ruins of
woods; for the most part the trees had fallen, but a certain proportion
still stood, dismal grey stems, with dark brown foliage instead of
green.
On our side the fire had done no more than scorch the nearer trees; it
had failed to secure its footing. In one place the woodmen had been at
work on Saturday; trees, felled and freshly trimmed, lay in a clearing,
with heaps of sawdust by the sawing-machine and its engine. Hard by was
a temporary hut, deserted. There was not a breath of wind this morning,
and everything was strangely still. Even the birds were hushed, and as
we hurried along I and the artilleryman talked in whispers and looked
now and again over our shoulders. Once or twice we stopped to listen.
After a time we drew near the road, and as we did so we heard the
clatter of hoofs and saw through the tree stems three cavalry soldiers
riding slowly towards Woking. We hailed them, and they halted while we
hurried towards them. It was a lieutenant and a couple of privates of
the 8th Hussars, with a stand like a theodolite, which the artilleryman
told me was a heliograph.
“You are the first men I’ve seen coming this way this morning,” said
the lieutenant. “What’s brewing?”
His voice and face were eager. The men behind him stared curiously. The
artilleryman jumped down the bank into the road and saluted.
“Gun destroyed last night, sir. Have been hiding. Trying to rejoin
battery, sir. You’ll come in sight of the Martians, I expect, about
half a mile along this road.”
“What the dickens are they like?” asked the lieutenant.
“Giants in armour, sir. Hundred feet high. Three legs and a body like
’luminium, with a mighty great head in a hood, sir.”
“Get out!” said the lieutenant. “What confounded nonsense!”
“You’ll see, sir. They carry a kind of box, sir, that shoots fire and
strikes you dead.”
“What d’ye mean—a gun?”
“No, sir,” and the artilleryman began a vivid account of the Heat-Ray.
Halfway through, the lieutenant interrupted him and looked up at me. I
was still standing on the bank by the side of the road.
“It’s perfectly true,” I said.
“Well,” said the lieutenant, “I suppose it’s my business to see it too.
Look here”—to the artilleryman—“we’re detailed here clearing people out
of their houses. You’d better go along and report yourself to
Brigadier-General Marvin, and tell him all you know. He’s at Weybridge.
Know the way?”
“I do,” I said; and he turned his horse southward again.
“Half a mile, you say?” said he.
“At most,” I answered, and pointed over the treetops southward. He
thanked me and rode on, and we saw them no more.
Farther along we came upon a group of three women and two children in
the road, busy clearing out a labourer’s cottage. They had got hold of
a little hand truck, and were piling it up with unclean-looking bundles
and shabby furniture. They were all too assiduously engaged to talk to
us as we passed.
By Byfleet station we emerged from the pine trees, and found the
country calm and peaceful under the morning sunlight. We were far
beyond the range of the Heat-Ray there, and had it not been for the
silent desertion of some of the houses, the stirring movement of
packing in others, and the knot of soldiers standing on the bridge over
the railway and staring down the line towards Woking, the day would
have seemed very like any other Sunday.
Several farm waggons and carts were moving creakily along the road to
Addlestone, and suddenly through the gate of a field we saw, across a
stretch of flat meadow, six twelve-pounders standing neatly at equal
distances pointing towards Woking. The gunners stood by the guns
waiting, and the ammunition waggons were at a business-like distance.
The men stood almost as if under inspection.
“That’s good!” said I. “They will get one fair shot, at any rate.”
The artilleryman hesitated at the gate.
“I shall go on,” he said.
Farther on towards Weybridge, just over the bridge, there were a number
of men in white fatigue jackets throwing up a long rampart, and more
guns behind.
“It’s bows and arrows against the lightning, anyhow,” said the
artilleryman. “They ’aven’t seen that fire-beam yet.”
The officers who were not actively engaged stood and stared over the
treetops southwestward, and the men digging would stop every now and
again to stare in the same direction.
Byfleet was in a tumult; people packing, and a score of hussars, some
of them dismounted, some on horseback, were hunting them about. Three
or four black government waggons, with crosses in white circles, and an
old omnibus, among other vehicles, were being loaded in the village
street. There were scores of people, most of them sufficiently
sabbatical to have assumed their best clothes. The soldiers were having
the greatest difficulty in making them realise the gravity of their
position. We saw one shrivelled old fellow with a huge box and a score
or more of flower pots containing orchids, angrily expostulating with
the corporal who would leave them behind. I stopped and gripped his
arm.
“Do you know what’s over there?” I said, pointing at the pine tops that
hid the Martians.
“Eh?” said he, turning. “I was explainin’ these is vallyble.”
“Death!” I shouted. “Death is coming! Death!” and leaving him to digest
that if he could, I hurried on after the artillery-man. At the corner I
looked back. The soldier had left him, and he was still standing by his
box, with the pots of orchids on the lid of it, and staring vaguely
over the trees.
No one in Weybridge could tell us where the headquarters were
established; the whole place was in such confusion as I had never seen
in any town before. Carts, carriages everywhere, the most astonishing
miscellany of conveyances and horseflesh. The respectable inhabitants
of the place, men in golf and boating costumes, wives prettily dressed,
were packing, river-side loafers energetically helping, children
excited, and, for the most part, highly delighted at this astonishing
variation of their Sunday experiences. In the midst of it all the
worthy vicar was very pluckily holding an early celebration, and his
bell was jangling out above the excitement.
I and the artilleryman, seated on the step of the drinking fountain,
made a very passable meal upon what we had brought with us. Patrols of
soldiers—here no longer hussars, but grenadiers in white—were warning
people to move now or to take refuge in their cellars as soon as the
firing began. We saw as we crossed the railway bridge that a growing
crowd of people had assembled in and about the railway station, and the
swarming platform was piled with boxes and packages. The ordinary
traffic had been stopped, I believe, in order to allow of the passage
of troops and guns to Chertsey, and I have heard since that a savage
struggle occurred for places in the special trains that were put on at
a later hour.
We remained at Weybridge until midday, and at that hour we found
ourselves at the place near Shepperton Lock where the Wey and Thames
join. Part of the time we spent helping two old women to pack a little
cart. The Wey has a treble mouth, and at this point boats are to be
hired, and there was a ferry across the river. On the Shepperton side
was an inn with a lawn, and beyond that the tower of Shepperton
Church—it has been replaced by a spire—rose above the trees.
Here we found an excited and noisy crowd of fugitives. As yet the
flight had not grown to a panic, but there were already far more people
than all the boats going to and fro could enable to cross. People came
panting along under heavy burdens; one husband and wife were even
carrying a small outhouse door between them, with some of their
household goods piled thereon. One man told us he meant to try to get
away from Shepperton station.
There was a lot of shouting, and one man was even jesting. The idea
people seemed to have here was that the Martians were simply formidable
human beings, who might attack and sack the town, to be certainly
destroyed in the end. Every now and then people would glance nervously
across the Wey, at the meadows towards Chertsey, but everything over
there was still.
Across the Thames, except just where the boats landed, everything was
quiet, in vivid contrast with the Surrey side. The people who landed
there from the boats went tramping off down the lane. The big ferryboat
had just made a journey. Three or four soldiers stood on the lawn of
the inn, staring and jesting at the fugitives, without offering to
help. The inn was closed, as it was now within prohibited hours.
“What’s that?” cried a boatman, and “Shut up, you fool!” said a man
near me to a yelping dog. Then the sound came again, this time from the
direction of Chertsey, a muffled thud—the sound of a gun.
The fighting was beginning. Almost immediately unseen batteries across
the river to our right, unseen because of the trees, took up the
chorus, firing heavily one after the other. A woman screamed. Everyone
stood arrested by the sudden stir of battle, near us and yet invisible
to us. Nothing was to be seen save flat meadows, cows feeding
unconcernedly for the most part, and silvery pollard willows motionless
in the warm sunlight.
“The sojers’ll stop ’em,” said a woman beside me, doubtfully. A
haziness rose over the treetops.
Then suddenly we saw a rush of smoke far away up the river, a puff of
smoke that jerked up into the air and hung; and forthwith the ground
heaved under foot and a heavy explosion shook the air, smashing two or
three windows in the houses near, and leaving us astonished.
“Here they are!” shouted a man in a blue jersey. “Yonder! D’yer see
them? Yonder!”
Quickly, one after the other, one, two, three, four of the armoured
Martians appeared, far away over the little trees, across the flat
meadows that stretched towards Chertsey, and striding hurriedly towards
the river. Little cowled figures they seemed at first, going with a
rolling motion and as fast as flying birds.
Then, advancing obliquely towards us, came a fifth. Their armoured
bodies glittered in the sun as they swept swiftly forward upon the
guns, growing rapidly larger as they drew nearer. One on the extreme
left, the remotest that is, flourished a huge case high in the air, and
the ghostly, terrible Heat-Ray I had already seen on Friday night smote
towards Chertsey, and struck the town.
At sight of these strange, swift, and terrible creatures the crowd near
the water’s edge seemed to me to be for a moment horror-struck. There
was no screaming or shouting, but a silence. Then a hoarse murmur and a
movement of feet—a splashing from the water. A man, too frightened to
drop the portmanteau he carried on his shoulder, swung round and sent
me staggering with a blow from the corner of his burden. A woman thrust
at me with her hand and rushed past me. I turned with the rush of the
people, but I was not too terrified for thought. The terrible Heat-Ray
was in my mind. To get under water! That was it!
“Get under water!” I shouted, unheeded.
I faced about again, and rushed towards the approaching Martian, rushed
right down the gravelly beach and headlong into the water. Others did
the same. A boatload of people putting back came leaping out as I
rushed past. The stones under my feet were muddy and slippery, and the
river was so low that I ran perhaps twenty feet scarcely waist-deep.
Then, as the Martian towered overhead scarcely a couple of hundred
yards away, I flung myself forward under the surface. The splashes of
the people in the boats leaping into the river sounded like
thunderclaps in my ears. People were landing hastily on both sides of
the river. But the Martian machine took no more notice for the moment
of the people running this way and that than a man would of the
confusion of ants in a nest against which his foot has kicked. When,
half suffocated, I raised my head above water, the Martian’s hood
pointed at the batteries that were still firing across the river, and
as it advanced it swung loose what must have been the generator of the
Heat-Ray.
In another moment it was on the bank, and in a stride wading halfway
across. The knees of its foremost legs bent at the farther bank, and in
another moment it had raised itself to its full height again, close to
the village of Shepperton. Forthwith the six guns which, unknown to
anyone on the right bank, had been hidden behind the outskirts of that
village, fired simultaneously. The sudden near concussion, the last
close upon the first, made my heart jump. The monster was already
raising the case generating the Heat-Ray as the first shell burst six
yards above the hood.
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
The Unpopular Review, Volume II Number 3
Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE UNPOPULAR REVIEW
VOL. II, NO. 3
JULY-SEPTEMBER, 1914
Published Quarterly at 35 West 32d Street, New York, by
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
CONTENTS
Unsocial Investments A.S. Johnson
A Stubborn Relic of Feudalism The Editor
An Experiment in Syndicalism Hugh H. Lusk
Labor: "True Demand" and Immigrant Supply Arthur J. Todd
The Way to Flatland Fabian Franklin
The Disfranchisement of Property David McGregor Means
Railway Junctions Clayton Hamilton
Minor Uses of the Middling Rich F.J. Mather, Jr.
Lecturing at Chautauqua Clayton Hamilton
Academic Leadership Paul Elmer More
Hypnotism, Telepathy, and Dreams The Editor
The Muses on the Hearth Mrs F.G. Allinson
The Land of the Sleepless Watchdog David Starr Jordan
En Casserole
Special to our Readers--Philosophy in Fly Time--Setting Bounds
to Laughter (A.S. Johnson)--A Post-Graduate School for Academic
Donors (F.J. Mather, Jr.)--A Suggestion Regarding
Vacations--Advertisement--Simplified Spelling
UNSOCIAL INVESTMENTS
The "new social conscience" is essentially a class phenomenon. While it
pretends to the rôle of inner monitor and guide to conduct for all
mankind, it interprets good and evil in class terms. It manifests a
special solicitude for the welfare of one social group, and a mute
hostility toward another. Labor is its Esau, Capital its Jacob. Let strife
arise between workingmen and their employers, and you will see the new
social conscience aligning itself with the former, accepting at face value
all the claims of labor, reiterating all labor's formulæ. The suggestion
that judgment should be suspended until the facts at issue are established
is repudiated as the prompting of a secret sin. For, to paraphrase a
recent utterance of the _Survey_, one of the foremost organs of the new
conscience, is it not true that the workers are fighting for their
livings, while the employers are fighting only for their profits? It would
appear, then, that there can be no question as to the side to which
justice inclines. A living is more sacred than a profit.
It is virtually never true, however, that the workers are fighting for
their "living." Contrary to Marx's exploded "iron law" they probably had
that and more before the trouble began. But of course we would not wish to
restrict them to a living, if they can produce more, and want all who
can't produce that much to be provided with it--and something more at the
expense of others.
It may be urged that the employer's profits also represent the livings of
a number of human beings; but this passes nowadays for a reactionary view.
"We stand for man as against the dollar." If you say that the "dollar" is
metonymy for "the man possessed of a dollar," with rights to defend, and
reasonable expectations to be realized, you convict yourself of reaction.
"These gentry" (I quote from the May _Atlantic_) "suppose themselves to be
discussing the rights of man, when all they are discussing is the rights
of stockholders." The true view, the progressive view, is obviously that
the possessors of the dollar, the recipients of profits and dividends, are
excluded from the communion of humanity. Labor is mankind.
The present instance is of course not the only instance in human history
of the substitution of class criteria of judgment for social criteria.
Such manifestations of class conscience are doubtless justified in the
large economy of human affairs; an individual must often claim all in
order to gain anything, and the same may be true of a class. Besides, the
ultimate arbitration of the claims of the classes is not a matter for the
rational judgment. What is subject to rational analysis, however, are the
methods of gaining its ends proposed by the new social conscience. Of
these methods one of wide acceptance is that of fixing odium upon certain
property interests, with a view to depriving them immediately of the
respect still granted to property interests in general, and ultimately of
the protection of the laws. It is with the rationality of what may be
called the excommunication and outlawing of special property interests,
that the present paper is concerned.
In passing, it is worth noting that the same ethical spirit that insists
upon fixing the responsibility for social ills upon particular property
interests--or property owners--insists with equal vehemence upon absolving
the propertyless evil-doer from personal responsibility for his acts. The
Los Angeles dynamiters were but victims: the crime in which they were
implicated was institutional, not personal. Their punishment was rank
injustice; inexpedient, moreover, as provocative of further crime, instead
of a means of repression. On the other hand, when it appears that the
congestion of the slum produces vice and disease, we are not urged by the
spokesmen of this ethical creed, to blame the chain of institutional
causes typified by scarcity of land, high prices of building materials,
the incapacity of a raw immigrant population to pay for better
habitations, or to appreciate the need for light and air. Rather, we are
urged to fix responsibility upon the individual owner who receives rent
from slum tenements. Perhaps we can not imprison him for his misdeeds, but
we can make him an object of public reproach; expel him from social
intercourse (if that, so often talked about, is ever done); fasten his
iniquities upon him if ever he seeks a post of trust or honor; and
ultimately we can deprive him of his property. Let him and his anti-social
interests be forever excommunicate, outlawed.
II
In the country at large the property interests involved in the production
and sale of alcoholic beverages are already excommunicated. The unreformed
"best society" may still tolerate the presence of persons whose fortunes
are derived from breweries or distilleries; but the great mass of the
social-minded would deny them fire and water. In how many districts would
a well organized political machine urge persons thus enriched as
candidates for Congress, the bench or even the school board? In the
prohibition territory excommunication of such property interests has been
followed by outlawry. The saloon in Maine and Kansas exists by the same
title as did Robin Hood: the inefficiency of the law. On the road to
excommunication is private property in the wretched shacks that shelter
the city's poor. Outlawry is not far distant. "These tenements must go."
Will they go? Ask of the police, who pick over the wreckage upon the
subsidence of a wave of reform. Many a rookery, officially abolished, will
be found still tenanted, and yielding not one income, but two, one for the
owner and another for the police. The property represented by enterprises
paying low wages, working men for long hours or under unhealthful
conditions, or employing children, is almost ripe for excommunication.
Pillars of society and the church have already been seen tottering on
account of revelations of working conditions in factories from which they
receive dividends. Property "affected by a public use," that is,
investments in the instrumentalities of public service, is becoming a
compromising possession. We are already somewhat suspicious of the
personal integrity and political honor of those who receive their incomes
from railways or electric lighting plants; and the odor of gas stocks is
unmistakable. Even the land, once the retreat of high birth and serene
dignity, is beginning to exhale a miasma of corruption. "Enriched by
unearned increment"--who wishes such an epitaph? A convention is to be
held in a western city in this very year, to announce to the world that
the delegates and their constituencies--all honest lovers of mankind--will
refuse in future to recognize any private title to land or other natural
resources. Holders of such property, by continuing to be such, will place
themselves beyond the pale of human society, and will forfeit all claim to
sympathy when the day dawns for the universal confiscation of land.
III
The existence of categories of property interests resting under a growing
weight of social disapprobation, is giving rise to a series of problems in
private ethics that seem almost to demand a rehabilitation of the art of
casuistry. A very intelligent and conscientious lady of the writer's
acquaintance became possessed, by inheritance, of a one-fourth interest in
a Minneapolis building the ground floor of which is occupied by a saloon.
Her first endeavor was to persuade her partners to secure a cancellation
of the liquor dealer's lease. This they refused to do, on the ground that
the building in question is, by location, eminently suited to its present
use, but very ill suited to any other; and that, moreover, the lessee
would immediately reopen his business on the opposite corner. To yield to
their partner's desire would therefore result in a reduction of their own
profits, but would advance the public welfare not one whit. Disheartened
by her partners' obstinacy, my friend is seeking to dispose of her
interest in the building. As she is willing to incur a heavy sacrifice in
order to get rid of her complicity in what she considers an unholy
business, the transfer will doubtless soon be made. Her soul will be
lightened of the profits from property put to an anti-social use. But the
property will still continue in such use, and profits from it will still
accrue to someone with a soul to lose or to save.
In her fascinating book, _Twenty Years at Hull House_, Miss Jane Addams
tells of a visit to a western state where she had invested a sum of money
in farm mortgages. "I was horrified," she says, "by the wretched
conditions among the farmers, which had resulted from a long period of
drought, and one forlorn picture was fairly burned into my mind.... The
farmer's wife [was] a picture of despair, as she stood in the door of the
bare, crude house, and the two children behind her, whom she vainly tried
to keep out of sight, continually thrust forward their faces, almost
covered by masses of coarse, sunburned hair, and their little bare feet so
black, so hard, the great cracks so filled with dust, that they looked
like flattened hoofs. The children could not be compared to anything so
joyous as satyrs, although they appeared but half-human. It seemed to me
quite impossible to receive interest from mortgages upon farms which might
at any season be reduced to such conditions, and with great inconvenience
to my agent and doubtless with hardship to the farmers, as speedily as
possible I withdrew all my investment." And thereby made the supply of
money for such farmers that much less and consequently that much dearer.
This is quite a fair example of much current philanthropy.
We may safely assume that, however much this action may have lightened
Miss Addams's conscience, it did not lighten the burden of debt upon the
farmer, or make the periodic interest payments less painful, and it
certainly did put them to the trouble and contingent expenses of a new
mortgage. The moral burden was shifted, to the ease of the philanthropist,
and this seems to exhaust the sum of the good results of one well
intentioned deed. Do they outweigh the bad ones?
So, doubtless, there are among our friends persons who, upon proof that
factories in which they have been interested pay starvation wages, have
withdrawn their investments. And others who, stumbling upon a state
legislature among the productive assets of a railway corporation, have
sold their bonds and invested the proceeds elsewhere. It is a modern way
of obeying the injunction, "Sell all thou hast and follow me." And not a
very painful way, since the irreproachable investments pay almost, if not
quite, as well as those that are suspect.
It is not, however, impossible to conceive of a property owner driven from
one position to another, in order to satisfy this new requirement of the
social conscience, without ever finding peace. Miss Addams put the money
withdrawn from those hideous farm mortgages into a flock of "innocent
looking sheep." Alas, they were not so innocent as they seemed. "The sight
of two hundred sheep with four rotting hoofs each was not reassuring to
one whose conscience craved economic peace. A fortunate series of sales of
mutton, wool and farm enabled the partners to end the enterprise without
loss." Sales of mutton? Let us hope those eight hundred infected hoofs are
well printed on the butcher's conscience.
And the net result of all these moral strivings? The evil investments
still continue to be evil, and still yield profits. Doubtless they rest,
in the end, upon less sensitive consciences. Marvellous moral gain!
IV
We are bound to the wheel, say the sociological fatalists. All our efforts
are of no avail; the Wheel revolves as it was destined. Not so. Our
strivings for purity in investments, puny as may be their results in the
individual instance, may compose a sum that is imposing in its
effectiveness. How their influence may be exerted will best appear from an
analogy.
It is a settled conviction among Americans of Puritan antecedents, and
among all other Americans, native born or alien, that have come under
Puritan influence, that the dispensing of alcoholic beverages is a
degrading function. This conviction has not, to be sure, notably impaired
the performance of the function. But it has none the less produced a
striking effect. It has set apart for the function in question those
elements in the population that place the lowest valuation upon the esteem
of the public, and that are, on the whole, least worthy of it. In
consequence the American saloon is, by common consent, the very worst
institution of its kind in the world. Such is the immediate result of good
intentions working by the method of excommunication of a trade.
This degradation of the personnel and the institution proceeds at an
accelerated rate as public opinion grows more bitter. In the end the evil
becomes so serious, so intimately associated with all other evils, social
and political, that you hear men over their very cups rise to proclaim,
with husky voices, "The saloon must go!" At this point the community is
ripe for prohibition: accordingly, it would seem that the initial stages
in the process, unpleasant as were their consequences, were not
ill-advised, after all. But prohibition does not come without a political
struggle, in which the enemy, selected for brazenness and schooled in
corruption, employs methods that leave lasting scars upon the body
politic. And even when vanquished, the enemy retreats into the morasses of
"unenforcible laws," to conduct a guerilla warfare that knows no rules.
Let us grant that the ultimate gain is worth all it costs: are we sure
that we have taken the best possible means to achieve our ends?
In the poorer quarters of most great American cities, there is much
property that it is difficult for a man to hold without losing the respect
of the enlightened. Old battered tenements, dingy and ill lighted
tumbledown shacks, the despair of the city reformer. Let us say that the
proximity of gas tanks or noisy railways or smoky factories consign such
quarters to the habitation of the very poor. Quite possibly, then, the
replacement of the existing buildings by better ones would represent a
heavy financial loss. The increasing social disapprobation of property
vested in such wretched forms leads to the gradual substitution of owners
who hold the social approval in contempt, for those who manifest a certain
degree of sensitiveness. The tenants certainly gain nothing from the
change. What is more likely to happen, is a screwing up of rents, an
increasing promptness of evictions. Public opinion will in the end be
roused against the landlords; the more timid among them will sell their
holdings to others not less ruthless, but bolder and more astute. Attempts
at public regulation will be fought with infinitely greater
resourcefulness than could possibly have been displayed by respectable
owners. Perhaps the final outcome will be that more drastic regulations
are adopted than would have been the case had the shifting in ownership
not taken place. There would still remain the possibility of the evasion
of the law, and it is not at all improbable that the progress in the
technique of evasion would outstrip the progress in regulation, thus
leaving the tenant with a balance of disadvantage from the process as a
whole.
The most illuminating instance of a business interest subjected first to
excommunication--literally--and then to outlawry, is that of the usurer,
or, in modern parlance, the loan shark. To the mediæval mind there was
something distinctly immoral in an income from property devoted to the
furnishing of personal loans. We need not stop to defend the mediæval
position or to attack it; all that concerns us here is that an opportunity
for profit--that is, a potential property interest--was outlawed. In
consequence it became impossible for reputable citizens to engage in the
business. Usury therefore came to be monopolized by aliens, exempt from
the current ethical formulation, who were "protected," for a
consideration, by the prince, just as dubious modern property interests
may be protected by the political boss.
Let us summarize the results of eight hundred years of experience in this
method of dealing with the usurer's trade. The business shifted from the
control of citizens to that of aliens; from the hands of those who were
aliens merely in a narrow, national sense, to the hands of those who are
alien to our common humanity. Such lawless, tricky, extortionate loan
sharks as now infest our cities were probably not to be found at all in
mediæval or early modern times. They are a product of a secular process of
selection. Their ability to evade the laws directed against them is
consummate. It is true that from time to time we do succeed in catching
one and fining him, or even imprisoning him. For which risk the small
borrower is forced to pay, at a usurer's rate.
Social improvement through the excommunication of property interests is
inevitably a disorderly process. Wherever it is in operation we are sure
to find the successive stages indicated in the foregoing examples. First,
a gradual substitution of the conscienceless property holder for the one
responsive to public sentiment. Next, under the threat of hostile popular
action, the timid and resourceless property owner gives way to the
resourceful and the bold. The third stage in the process is a vigorous
political movement towards drastic regulation or abolition, evoking a
desperate attempt on the part of the interests threatened to protect
themselves by political means--that is, by gross corruption; or, if the
menaced interest is a vast one, dominating a defensible territory, by
armed rebellion, as in our own Civil War. If the interest is finally
overwhelmed politically, and placed completely under the ban of the law,
it has been given ample time to develop an unscrupulousness of personnel
and an art of corruption that long enable it to exist illegally, a lasting
reproach to the constituted authorities.
V
Suppression of anti-social interests by the methods in vogue amounts to
little more than their banishment to the underworld. And we can well
imagine the joy with which the denizens of the underworld receive such new
accessions to their numbers and power. For in the nature of the case, it
is inevitable that all varieties of outcasts and outlaws should join
forces. The religious schismatic makes common cause with the pariah; the
political offender with the thief and robber. Such association of elements
vastly increases the difficulty of repressing crime. The band of thieves
and robbers in the cave of Adullam doubtless found their powers of preying
vastly increased through the acquisition of such a leader as David. The
problem of mediæval vagabondage was rendered well-nigh incapable of
solution by the fact that any beggar's rags might conceal a holy but
excommunicated friar.
Let us once more review our experience with the usurer. As an outcast he
offers his support to other outcasts, and is in turn supported by them.
The pawnbroker and the pickpocket are closely allied: without the
pawnshop, pocketpicking would offer but a precarious living; without the
picking of pockets, many pawnshops would find it impossible to meet
expenses. The salary loan shark often works hand in glove with the
professional gambler; each procures victims for the other. The
"hole-in-the-wall" or "blind tiger" provides a rendezvous for all the
outcasts of society. "Boot-legging" is a common subsidiary occupation for
the pander, the thief and the cracksman. Where it flourishes, it serves to
bridge over many a period of slack trade. Franchises whose validity is
subject to political attack, bring to the aid of the underworld some of
the most powerful interests in the community. The police are almost
helpless when confronted by a coalition of persons of wealth and
respectability with professional politicians commanding a motley array of
yeggs and thugs, pimps and card-sharpers.
Let us suppose that the developing social conscience places under the ban
receipt of private income from land and other natural resources, and that
a powerful movement aiming at the confiscation of such resources is under
way. It is superfluous to point out that the vast interests threatened
would offer a desperate resistance. The warfare against an incomparably
lesser interest, the liquor trade, has taxed all the resources of the
modern democratic state--on the whole the most absolute political
organization known. In no instance has the state come out of the struggle
completely victorious; the proscribed interest is yielding ground, if at
all, only very slowly. What, then, would be the outcome of a struggle
against the vastly greater landed interest? Perhaps the state would be
victorious in the end. But for generations the landed interest would
survive, if not by title of common law, at least by title of common
corruption. And in the course of the conflict, we can not doubt that
political disorder would flourish as never before, and that under its
shelter private vice and crime would develop almost unchecked.
We should disabuse ourselves of the notion that the will of a mere
majority is absolute in the state. The law is a reality only when the
outlawed interests represent an insignificant minority. Arbitrarily to
increase the outlawed interests is to undermine the very foundations of
society.
VI
The trend of the foregoing discussion, it will be said, is reactionary in
the extreme. There are, as all must admit, private interests that are
prejudicial to the public interest. Are they to be left in possession of
the privilege of trading upon the public disaster--entrenching themselves,
rendering still more difficult the future task of the reformer? By no
means. The writer opposes no criticism to the extinction of anti-social
private interests; on the contrary, he would have the state proceed
against them with far greater vigor than it has hitherto displayed. It is
important, however, to be sure first that a private interest is
anti-social. Then the question is merely one of method. It is the author's
contention that the method of excommunication and outlawry is the very
worst conceivable.
We are wont to hold up to scorn the British method of compensating liquor
sellers for licenses revoked. It is an expensive method. But let us weigh
its corresponding advantages. The licensee does not find himself in a
position in which he must choose between personal destitution and the
public interest. He dares not employ methods of resistance that would
subject him to the risk of forfeiting the right to compensation. He may
resist by fair means, but if he is intelligent, he will keep his skirts
clear of foul. If his establishment is closed, he is not left, a ruined
and desperate man, to project methods for carrying on his trade illicitly.
On the contrary, the act of compensation has placed in his hands funds in
which he might be mulcted if convicted of violation of the law. And if
natural perversity should drive him to illegal practices, he would not
find himself an object of sympathy on the part of that considerable
minority that resent injustice even to those whom they regard as
evil-doers.
There can be little doubt that by the adoption of the principle of
adequate compensation, an American commonwealth could extinguish any
property interest that majority opinion pronounces anti-social. We may
have industries that menace the public health. Under existing conditions
the interests involved exert themselves to the utmost to suppress
information relative to the dangers of such industries. With the principle
of compensation in operation, these very interests would be the foremost
in exposing the evils in question. It is no hardship to sell your interest
to the public. Does any one feel aggrieved when the public decides to
appropriate his land to a public use? On the contrary, every possessor of
a site at all suited for a public building or playground does everything
in his power to display its advantages in the most favorable light.
And with this we have admitted a disadvantage of the compensation
principle--over-compensation. We do pay excessively for property rights
extinguished in the public interest. But this is largely because the
principle is employed with such relative infrequency that we have not as
yet developed a technique of compensation. German cities have learned how
to acquire property for public use without either plundering the private
owner or excessively enriching him. The British application of the Small
Holdings Acts has duly protected the interests of the large landholder,
without making of him a vociferous champion of the Acts.
Progressive public morality readers one private interest after another
indefensible. Let the public extinguish such interests, by all means. But
let the public be moral at its own expense.
A revolting doctrine, it will be said. Because men have been permitted,
through gross defect in the laws, to build up interests in dealing out
poisons to the public, are they to be compensated, like the purveyors of
wholesome products, when the public decrees that their destructive
activities shall cease? Because a corrupt legislature once gave away
valuable franchises, are we and our children, and our children's children,
forever to pay tribute, in the shape of interest on compensation funds, to
the heirs of the shameless grantees? Because the land of a country was
parcelled out, in a lawless age, among the unworthy retainers of a
predatory prince, must we forever pay rent on every loaf we eat--as we
should do, in fact, even if we transformed great landed estates into
privately held funds? Did we not abolish human slavery, without
compensation, and is there any one to question the justice of the act?
We did indeed extinguish slavery without compensation to the slave owners.
But if no one had ever conceived of such a policy we should have been a
richer nation and a happier one. We paid for the slaves, in blood and
treasure, many times the sum that would have made every slave owner eager
to part with his slaves. Such enrichment of the slave owner would have
been an act of social injustice, it may be said. The saying would be open
to grave doubt, but the doctrine here advanced runs, not in terms of
justice, but in terms of social expediency.
And expediency is commonly regarded as a cheap substitute for justice. It
is wrongly so regarded. Social justice, as usually conceived, looks to the
past for its validity. Its preoccupation is the correction of ancient
wrongs. Social expediency looks to the future: its chief concern is the
prevention of future wrongs. As a guide to political action, the
superiority of the claims of social expediency is indisputable.
VII
In the foregoing argument it has been deliberately assumed that the
interests to be extinguished are, for the most part, universally
recognized as anti-social. Slavery, health-destroying adulteration, the
maintenance of tenements that menace life and morals, these at least
represent interests so abominable that all must agree upon the wisdom of
extinguishing them. The only point in dispute must be one of method. It is
the contention of the present writer that when even such interests have
had time to become clothed with an appearance of regularity, the method of
extinction should be through compensation. By its tolerance of such
interests, the public has made itself an accomplice in the mischief to
which they give rise, and accordingly has not even an equitable right to
throw the whole responsibility upon the private persons concerned.
Interests thus universally recognized to be evil are necessarily few. In
the vast majority of cases the establishment of interests we now seek to
proscribe took place in an epoch in which no evil was imputed to them. At
first a small minority, usually regarded as fanatics, attack the interests
in question. This minority increases, and in the end transforms itself
into a majority. But long after majority opinion has become adverse, there
remains a vigorous minority opinion defending the menaced interests. A
hundred years ago the distilling of spirituous liquors was almost
universally regarded as an entirely legitimate industry. The enemies of
the industry were few and of no political consequence. Today in many
communities the industry is utterly condemned by majority opinion. There
is, however, no community in which a minority honestly defending the
industry is absolutely wanting. Admitting that the majority opinion is
right, it remains none the less true that adherents of the minority
opinion would regard themselves as most grievously wronged if the majority
proceeded to a destruction of their interests.
Where moral issues alone are involved, we may perhaps accept the view that
the well considered opinion of the majority is as near as may be to
infallibility. But it is very rarely the case that the question of the
legitimacy of a property interest can be reduced to a purely moral issue.
Usually there are also at stake, technical and broad economic issues in
which majority judgment is notoriously fallible. Thus we have at times had
large minorities who believed that the bank as an institution is wholly
evil, and ought to be abolished. This was the majority opinion in one
period of the history of Texas, and in accordance with it, established
banking interests were destroyed by law. It is only within the last
fifteen years that the majority of the citizens of that commonwealth have
admitted the error of the earlier view.
In the course of the last twenty-five years, notable progress has been
made in the art of preserving perishable foods through refrigeration.
There are differences of opinion as to the effect upon the public health
of food so preserved; and further differences as to the effect of the cold
storage system upon the cost of living. On neither the physiological nor
the economic questions involved is majority opinion worthy of special
consideration. None the less, legislative measures directed against the
storage interests have been seriously considered in a large number of
states, and were it not for the difficulties inherent in the regulation of
interstate commerce, we should doubtless see the practice of cold storage
prohibited in some jurisdictions. Those whose property would thus be
destroyed would accept their losses with much bitterness, in view of the
fact that the weight of expert opinion holds their industry to be in the
public interest.
What still further exacerbates the feeling of injury on the part of those
whose interests are proscribed, is the fact that the purity of motives of
the persons most active in the campaign of proscription is not always
clear. Not many years ago we had a thriving manufacture of artificial
butter. The persons engaged in the industry claimed that their product was
as wholesome as that produced according to the time-honored process, and
that its cheapness promised an important advance in the adequate
provisioning of the people. We destroyed the industry, very largely
because of our strong bent toward conservatism in all matters pertaining
to the table. But among the influences that were most active in taxing
artificial butter out of existence, was the competing dairymen's interest.
It is asserted by those who would shift the whole burden of taxation onto
land that they are animated by the most unselfish motives, whereas their
opponents are defending their selfish interests alone. Yet a common Single
Tax appeal to the large manufacturer and the small house-owner takes the
form of a computation demonstrating that those classes would gain more
through the reduction in the burden on improvements than they would lose
through increase in burden on the land. Let it be granted that personal
advantage is not incompatible with purity of motives. The association of
ideas does not, however, inspire confidence, especially in the breasts of
those whose interests are threatened.
Extinction of property interests without compensation necessarily makes
our legislative bodies the battleground of conflicting interests. Honest
motives are combined with crooked ones in the attack upon an interest;
crooked and honest motives combine in its defense. Out of the disorder
issues a legislative determination that may be in the public interest or
may be prejudicial to it. And most likely the law is inadequately
supported by machinery of enforcement: it is effective in controlling the
scrupulous; to the unscrupulous it is mere paper. In many instances its
net effect is only to increase the risks connected with the conduct of a
business.
When England prohibited importation of manufactures from France, the
import trade continued none the less, under the form of smuggling. The
risk of seizure was merely added to the risk of fire and flood. Just as
one could insure against the latter risks, so the practice arose of
insuring against seizure. At one time, at any rate, in the French ports
were to be found brokers who would insure the evasion of a cargo of goods
for a premium of fifteen per cent. At the safe distance of a century and a
half, the absurd prohibition and its incompetent administration are
equally comic. At the time, however, there was nothing comic in the
contempt for law and order thus engendered, in the feeling of outrage on
the part of those ruined by seizures, and in the alliance of respectable
merchants with the thieves and footpads enlisted for the smuggling trade.
VIII
It is a common observation of present day social reformers that an
excessive regard is displayed by our governmental organs for security of
property, while security of non-property rights is neglected. And this
would indeed be a serious indictment of the existing order if there were
in fact a natural antithesis between the security of property and security
of the person. There is, however, no such antithesis. In the course of
history the establishment of security of property has, as a rule, preceded
the establishment of personal security, and has provided the conditions in
which personal security becomes possible. Adequate policing is essential
to any form of security. Property can pay for policing; the person can
not. This is a crude and materialistic interpretation of the facts, but it
is essentially sound.
How much personal security existed in England, five centuries and a half
ago, when it was possible for Richard to carve his way through human flesh
to the throne? The lowly, certainly, enjoyed no greater security than the
high born. How much personal security exists in the late Macedonian
provinces of the Turkish Empire, or in northern Mexico? It is safe to
issue a challenge to all the world to produce an instance, contemporary or
historical, of a country in which property is insecure and in which human
life and human happiness are not still more insecure. On the other hand,
it is difficult to produce an instance of a state in which security of
property has long been established, in which there is not a progressive
sensitiveness about the non-propertied rights of man. It is in the
countries where the sacredness of private property is a fetich, that one
finds recognition of a universal right to education, of a right to
protection against violence and against epidemic disease, of a right to
relief in destitution. These are perhaps meagre rights; but they represent
an expanding category. The right to support in time of illness and in old
age is making rapid progress. The development of such rights is not only
not incompatible with security of property, but it is, in large measure, a
corollary of property security. Personal rights shape themselves upon the
analogy of property rights; they utilize the same channels of thought and
habit. One of the most powerful arguments for "social insurance" is its
very name. Insurance is recognized as an essential to the security of
property; it is therefore easy to make out a case for the application of
the principle to non-propertied claims.
Some may claim that the security of property has now fulfilled its
mission; that we can safely allow the principle to decay in order to
concentrate our attention upon the task of establishing non-propertied
rights. But let us remember that we are not removed from barbarism by the
length of a universe. The crust of orderly civilization is deep under our
feet: but not six hundred years deep. The primitive fires still smoke on
our Mexican borders and in the Balkans. And blow holes open from time to
time through our own seemingly solid crust--in Colorado, in West Virginia,
in the Copper Country. It is evidently premature to affirm that the
security of property has fulfilled its mission.
IX
The question at issue, is not, however, the rights of property against the
rights of man--or more honestly--the rights of labor. The claims of labor
upon the social income may advance at the expense of the claims of
property. In the institutional struggle between the propertied and the
propertyless, the sympathies of the writer are with the latter party. It
is his hope and belief that an ever increasing share of the social income
will assume the form of rewards for personal effort.
But this is an altogether different matter from the crushing of one
private property interest after another, in the name of the social welfare
or the social morality. Such detailed attacks upon property interests are,
in the end, to the injury of both social classes. Frequently they amount
to little more than a large loss to one property interest, and a small
gain to another. They increase the element of insecurity in all forms of
property; for who shall say which form is immune from attack? Now it is
the slum tenement, obvious corollary of our social inequalities; next it
may be the marble mansion or gilded hotel, equally obvious corollaries of
the same institutional situation. Now it is the storage of meat that is
under attack; it may next be the storage of flour. The fact is, our mass
of income yielding possessions is essentially an organic whole. The
irreproachable incomes are not exactly what they would be if those subject
to reproach did not exist. If some property incomes are dirty, all
property incomes become turbid.
The cleansing of property incomes, therefore, is a first obligation of the
institution of property as a whole. The compensation principle throws the
cost of the cleansing upon the whole mass, since, in the last analysis,
any considerable burden of taxation will distribute itself over the mass.
The principle is therefore consonant with justice. What is not less
important, the principle, systematically developed, would go far toward
freeing the legislature from the graceless function of arbitrating between
selfish interests, and the administration from the necessity of putting
down powerful interests outlawed by legislative act. It would give us a
State working smoothly, and therefore an efficient instrument for social
ends. Most important of all, it would promote that security of economic
interests which is essential to social progress.
A STUBBORN RELIC OF FEUDALISM
There is a persistent question regarding the distribution of property
which is of peculiar interest in the season of automobile tours and summer
hotels. Most thinking people acknowledge a good deal of perplexity over
this question, while on most parallel ones they are generally
cock-sure--on whichever is the side of their personal interests. But in
this question the bias of personal interest is not very large, and
therefore it may be considered with more chance of agreement than can the
larger questions of the same class which parade under various disguises.
The little question is that of tipping. After we have squeezed out of it
such antitoxic serum as we can, we will briefly indicate the application
of it to larger questions.
Tipping is plainly a survival of the feudal relation, long before the
humbler men had risen from the condition of status to that of contract,
when fixed pay in the ordinary sense was unknown, and where the relation
between servant and master was one of ostensible voluntary service and
voluntary support, was for life, and in its best aspect was a relation of
mutual dependence and kindness. Then the spasmodic payment was, as tips
are now, essential to the upper man's dignity, and very especially to the
dignity of his visitor. This feudal relation survives in England today to
such an extent that poor men refrain from visiting their rich relations
because of the tips. In the great country-houses the tips are expected to
be in gold, at least so I was told some years ago. And in England and out
of it, Don Cesar's bestowal of his last shilling on the man who had served
him, still thrills the audience, at least the tipped portion of it.
Europe being on the whole less removed from feudal institutions than we
are, tipping is not only more firmly established there, but more
systematized. It is more nearly the rule that servants' places in hotels
are paid for, and they are apt to be dependent entirely upon tips. The
greater wealth of America, on the other hand, and the extravagance of the
_nouveaux riches_, has led in some institutions to more extravagant
tipping than is dreamed of in Europe, and consequently has scattered
through the community a number of servants from Europe who, when here,
receive with gratitude from a foreigner, a tip which they would scorn from
an American.
In the midst of general relations of contract--of agreed pay for agreed
service, tipping is an anomaly and a constant puzzle.
It would seem strange, if it were not true of the greater questions of the
same kind, that in the chronic discussion of this one, so little
attention, if any, has been paid to what may be the fundamental line of
division between the two sides--namely, the distinction between ideal
ethics and practical ethics.
An illustration or two will help explain that distinction:
First illustration: "Thou shalt not kill" which is ideal ethics in an
ideal world of peace. Practical ethics in the real world are illustrated
in Washington and Lee, who for having killed their thousands, are placed
beside the saints!
Second illustration: Obey the laws and tell the truth. This is ideal
ethics, which our very legislatures do much to prevent being practical.
For instance; they ignore the fact that in the present state of morality,
taxes on personal property can be collected from virtually nobody but
widows and orphans who have no one to evade the taxes for them. So the
legislatures continue the attempt to tax personal property, and a judge on
the bench says that a man who lies about his personal taxes shall not on
that account be held an unreliable witness in other matters.
Or to take an illustration less radical: it is not in legal testimony
alone that ideal ethics require everybody to tell the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth--that the world should have as much truth
as possible; and if the world were perfectly kind, perfectly honest and
perfectly wise (which last involves the first two), that ideal could be
realized. For instance, in our imperfect world a man telling people when
he did not like them, would be constantly giving needless pain and making
needless enemies, whereas in an ideal world--made up of perfect people,
there would be nobody to dislike, or, pardon the Hibernicism, if there
were, the whole truth could be told without causing pain or enmity. Or
again, in a world where there are dishonest people, a man telling
everything about his schemes, would have them run away with by others,
though in an ideal world, where there were no dishonest people, he could
speak freely. In fact, the necessity of reticence in this connection does
not even depend on the existence of dishonesty: for in a world where
people have to look out for themselves, instead of everybody looking out
for everybody else, a man exposing his plans might hurry the execution of
competing plans on the part of perfectly honest people.
Farther illustration may be sufficiently furnished by the topic in hand.
In the case of most poor folks other than servants, what to do about it
has lately been pretty distinctly settled: the religion of pauperization
is pretty generally set aside: almsgiving, the authorities on ethics now
generally hold, should be restricted to deserving cases--to people
incapacitated by constitution or circumstance from taking proper care of
themselves.
Now is tipping almsgiving, and are servants among the deserving classes?
How many people have asked themselves these simple questions, and how many
who are educated up to habitually refusing alms unless the last of the
questions is affirmatively answered, just as habitually tip servants?
Is tipping almsgiving? Not in the same sense that alms are given without
any show of anything in return: the servant does something for the tipper.
Yes, but he is paid for it by his employer. True, but only sometimes: at
other times he is only partly paid, depending for the rest on tips; and
sometimes the tips are so valuable that the servant pays his alleged
employer for the opportunity to get them. Yet I know one hotel in Germany,
and probably there are others, there and elsewhere, where the menus and
other stationery bear requests against tipping. But in that one hotel I
know tipping to be as rife as in hotels generally: the customers are not
educated up to the landlord's standard. And here we come to the
fundamental remedy for all questionable practices--the education of the
people beyond them. But this is simply the ideal condition in which ideal
ethics could prevail. Meanwhile we must determine the practical ethics of
the actual world.
The servant's position is different from that of most other wage-earners,
in that he is in direct contact with the person who is to benefit from his
work. The man who butchers your meat or grinds your flour, you probably
never see; but the man who brushes your clothes or waits on your table,
holds to you a personal relation, and he can do his work so as merely to
meet a necessity, or so as to rise beyond mere necessity into comfort or
luxury. Outside of home servants, the necessity is all that, in the
present state of human nature, his regular stipend is apt to provide; the
comfort or the luxury, the feeling of personal interest, the atmosphere of
promptness and cheerfulness and ease, is apt to respond only to the tip.
Only in the ideal world will it be spontaneous. In the real world it must
be paid for.
And why should it not be--why is it not as legitimate to pay for having
your wine well cooled or carefully tempered and decanted, as to pay for
the wine itself? The objection apt to be first urged is that it degrades
the servant. But does it? He is not an ideal man in an ideal world,
already doing his best or paid to do his best. You are not degrading him
from any such standard as that, into the lower one of requiring tips: you
are simply taking him as he is. True, if he got no tips, he would not
depend upon them; but without them he would not do all you want him to;
before he will do that, he must be developed into a different man--he must
become a creature of an ideal world. You may in the course of ages develop
him into that, and as you do, he will work better and better, and tips may
grow smaller and smaller, until he does his best spontaneously, and tips
have dwindled to nothing. But to withdraw them now would simply make him
sulky, and lead to his doing worse than now.
Another objection urged against tips is that they put the rich tipper at
an advantage over the poor one. But the rich man is at an advantage in
nearly everything else, why not here? The idea of depriving him of his
advantages, is rank communism, which destroys the stimulus to energy and
ingenuity that, in the present state of human nature, is needed to keep
the world moving. In an ideal state of human nature, the man with ability
to create wealth may find stimulus enough, as some do to a considerable
extent now, in the delight of distributing wealth for the general good;
but we are considering what is practicable in the present state of human
nature.
Another aspect of the case, or at least a wider aspect, is the more
sentimental one where the tip is prompted as reciprocation for spontaneous
kindness.
But in the service of private families, as distinct from service to the
general public or to visitors it is notorious that constant tipping is
ruinous. Occasional holidays and treats and presents at Christmas and on
special occasions are useful, as promoting the general feeling of
reciprocation. But from visitors the tip is generally essential to
ensuring the due meed of respect. Yet we can reasonably imagine a time
when it may not be; and even now, for the casual service of holding a
horse or brushing off the dust, a hearty "thank you" is perhaps on the
whole better than a tip.
Considering the morality of the question all around--the practical ethics
as well as the ideal, the underlying facts are that no man ought to be a
servant in the servile sense, and indeed no man ought to be poor; and in
an ideal world no man would be one or the other. Just how we are to get a
world without servants or servile people, is perhaps a little more plain
than how we are to get Mr. Bellamy's world without poor people, which,
however, amounts to nearly the same thing. At least we will get a less
servile world, as machinery and organization make service less and less
personal. Bread has long been to a great extent made away from home; much
of the washing is also done away in great laundries, and organizations
have lately been started to call for men's outer clothes, and keep them
cleaned, repaired and pressed. There is a noticeable rise, too, in the
dignity of personal service: witness the college students at the summer
hotels, and the self-respecting Jap in the private family. These
influences are making for the ideal world in relation to service, and
_when_ we get it, no man will take tips, and nobody will offer them.
But in our stage of evolution, the tip, like the larger prizes, is part of
the general stimulus to the best exertion and the best feeling, and is
therefore legitimate; but it, like every other stimulus, should not be
applied in excess, and the tendency should be to abolish it. The rich man
often is led by good taste and good morals to restrain his expenditure in
many directions, and there are few directions, if any, in which good taste
and good morals more commend the happy medium than in tips. Excess in
them, however, is not always prompted by good nature and generosity and
reciprocation of spontaneous kindness, but often by desire for comfort,
and even by ostentation. But all such promptings require regulation for
the same reason that, it is now becoming generally recognized, the
promptings of even charity itself require regulation.
The head of one of the leading Fifth Avenue restaurants once said to the
writer, substantially: "We don't like tips: they demoralize our men. But
what can we do about it? We can't stop it, or even keep it within bounds.
Our customers will give them, and people who have too much money or too
little sense, give not only dollar bills or five dollar bills, but fifty
dollar bills and even hundred dollar bills. We have tried to stave off
customers who do such things: we believe that in the long run it would pay
us to; but we can't."
When all the promptings of liberality or selfishness or ostentation are
well regulated, we will be in the ideal world. Until then, in the actual
world, it is the part of wisdom to regulate ideal ethics by practical
ethics--and tip, but tip temperately.
* * * * *
And now to apply our principles to a wider field.
The ideal is that all men should have what they produce. The ideal is also
that all men should have full shares of the good things of life. These two
ideals inevitably combine into a third--that all men should produce full
shares of the good things of life. But the plain fact is that they
cannot--that no amount of opportunity or appliances will enable the
average day laborer to produce what Mr. Edison or Mr. Hill or even the
average deviser of work and guide of labor does. Then even ideal ethics
cannot say in this actual world: Let both have the same. That would simply
be Robin Hood ethics: rob the man who produces much, and give the plunder
to the man who produces little. Hence comes the disguising of the schemes
to do it, even so that they often deceive their own devisers. What then do
practical ethics say? They can't say anything more than: Help the less
capable to become capable, so that he may produce more. But that is at
least as slow a process as raising the servant beyond the stage of tips.
Meantime the socialists are unwilling to wait, and propose to rob the
present owners of the means of production, and take the control of
industry from the men who manage it now, and put it in the hands of the
men who merely can influence votes. These men certainly are no less
selfish and dishonest than the captains of industry, and are vastly less
able to select the profitable fields of industry, and organize and
economize industry; whatever product they might squeeze out would be
vastly less than now, and it would stick to their own fingers no less than
does what the politicians handle now. Dividing whatever might reach the
people, without reference to those who produced it, could yield the
average man no more than he gets now. That's very simple mathematics. One
of the saddest sights of the day is the number of good people to whom
these facts are not self-evident.
In no state of human nature that any persons now living, or the grandchild
of any person now living, will witness, could such conditions be
permanent. Their temporary realization might be accomplished; but if it
were, the able men would not be satisfied with either the low grade of
civilization inevitable unless they worked, or with being robbed of the
large share of production that must result from their work. The more
intelligent of the rank and file, too, would rebel against the conditions
inevitably lowering the general prosperity, and they would soon realize
the difference in industrial leadership between "political generals" and
natural generals. Insurrection would follow, and then anarchy, after which
things would start again on their present basis, but some generations
behind.
But I for one do not expect these experiences, especially in America: for
here probably enough men have already become property holders to make a
sufficient balance of power for the preservation of property. If not, the
first step toward ensuring civilization, is helping enough men to develop
into property holders, and _continue_ property holders, which general
experience declares that they will not unless they develop their property
themselves.
AN EXPERIMENT IN SYNDICALISM
During the last twenty years New Zealand has tried many social and
economic experiments; these experiments have been made by her own
Legislature, and her own people; and as a rule they have been remarkably
successful: during the last few months she has had the experience of a new
one conducted by strangers, and made at her expense. Fortunately there is
reason to believe that this one will be found to have resulted in benefit
to New Zealand and its people, while it may prove of service to older and
larger countries. It is probable that the most widely known of New
Zealand's experiments is that which aimed at doing justice to employers
and employees alike by the substitution for the Industrial strike of a
Court of Arbitration, fairly constituted, on which both Workers and
Employers were equally represented. This law has been branded by the
supporters of the usual Strike policy with the name of "Compulsory
Arbitration," the object being to discredit it in the eyes of the workers,
as an infringement of their liberty. The title is unfair and misleading.
Unlike most laws, it never has been of universal application either to
Workers or Employers, but only to those among them that chose to form
themselves into industrial Unions, and to register those Unions as subject
to the provisions of the Statute. The purpose of the Statute was an appeal
to the common sense of the people, by offering them an alternative method
of settling disputes and securing that fair-play for both parties which
experience had shown could seldom be secured by the strike. The law, which
was first introduced in 1894, had gradually appealed both to workers and
employers, as worth trying, and before the close of the last century it
had rendered the country prosperous, and had attracted the attention of
thoughtful people in many other parts of the world to the "Country Without
Strikes." Efforts were made in several countries to introduce the
principle of the New Zealand Statute, but with very little success, as it
was generally opposed both by workers and employers:--the workers feeling
confident they could obtain greater concessions by the forceful methods of
the strike, and the employers suspecting that any Court of Arbitration
would be likely to give the workers more than, without arbitration, they
could compel the employers to surrender.
In the mean time the statutory substitute for the strike continued to
succeed in New Zealand. Nearly every class of town workers, and some in
the country, had formed Unions, and registered them under the arbitration
law. With a single trifling exception, that was speedily put an end to by
the punishment of the Union with the alternative of heavy fine or
imprisonment, the country was literally as well as nominally a country
without a strike. And it was something more than that: its prosperity
increased year by year, and its production of goods--agricultural,
pastoral, and manufactured--increased at a pace unequalled elsewhere. Yet
the prosperity was most apparent in its effect on the conditions of the
workers: under the successive awards of the arbitration court, wages had
steadily increased until they had reached a point as high as in similar
trades in America, while the cost of living was very little more than half
the rate in any town in the United States. To all intelligent observers
these facts were evident, and could not be concealed from the workers in
other countries, especially in Australia, as the nearest geographically to
New Zealand and commercially the most closely connected.
The effect, however, on the workers of Australia was not what might have
been expected. Attempts had been made by some of the State Legislatures to
introduce arbitration laws more or less like the New Zealand statute, but
with very partial success. From the first these laws were opposed by the
leaders of the Labor Unions, who naturally saw a menace to their influence
in the fact that they became subject to punishment if they attempted to
use their accustomed powers over their fellow unionists. The example of
New Zealand was lauded in the Australian Legislatures and newspapers, and
even in the courts, till at last a feeling of strong antagonism was
developed among the more advanced class of socialistic Labor men, and it
was decided by their leaders to undertake a campaign in the neighboring
Dominion against the system of settling industrial questions by courts,
and in favor of substituting the system of strikes, with their attendant
power and profit to the Labor leaders. The first steps taken were sending
men from Australia or England on lecturing tours through New Zealand, to
create dissatisfaction with the Arbitration Courts by representing them as
leaning to the side of the employers, and ignoring the claims of the
workers. When this had gone on for about a year, workers of various
classes were induced to cross from Australia, and join the Unions in New
Zealand, for the purpose of influencing their fellow unionists to
disloyalty towards the system under which they were registered. These men
were generally competent workers and clever agitators, and many of them
soon obtained prominence and official position in the Unions. As was
natural, a good many of these new-comers were miners--either for coal or
gold--and many of them joined the miners' union at the great gold mine
known as the Waihi, from which upwards of thirty million dollars worth of
gold had been dug, and which was still yielding between three and four
million dollars a year. There were nearly a thousand miners employed
there, and all of them were members of a Union that was duly registered
under the Arbitration statute.
There had been several questions in dispute between the miners and the
owners, and these had been referred to the Arbitration Court some time
before the arrival of the new Australian miners. The result, while it
favored the Union in some respects, favored the Company in others, and
this fact was used by the new-comers to convince the older hands that the
Court had been unfair, and that they could secure much better terms for
themselves if they would cease work, and so inflict immense loss by
permitting the lower levels of the mine to become flooded. After a few
months the Union decided to take advantage of the provision of the law
which enabled any registered Union to withdraw its registration at six
months' notice. When the time had expired, the Union repeated the demand
which had been refused by the Court, and on the refusal of the Company to
agree, a strike was at once declared, and the whole of the miners ceased
work. This had the effect, within a very short time, of rendering all the
deeper levels of the mine unworkable. Close to the mine was a prosperous
little town occupied chiefly by the miners and their families, most of the
houses being the property of the mining company, and the men continued to
occupy the houses while the strike was in progress. Other miners were
found who were ready to take their places, but the men in possession
refused to move out, and threatened with violence any miners that should
attempt to work the mine. The men who had been prepared to work, finding
this to be the position, withdrew. As there was no actual violence shown,
there seemed to be a difficulty in the way of any interference by the
Government: so several months passed, during which the mine lay idle while
the miners on strike continued to occupy the houses and pay the very
moderate rents demanded from employees of the company. This they were able
to do partly from their savings, partly from the sympathetic contributions
from Australia, and partly by some of the miners having scattered over the
country and got work on the farms, and throwing their earnings into the
common fund.
After repeated appeals by the mine-owners to the Government, an
arrangement was made that the Company should employ miners willing to
become members of a new Union registered under the Arbitration statute,
and that the Government should send a police force sufficient to protect
these in working the mine, and also to enforce the judgment of the local
court in dispossessing the occupants of the houses belonging to the
Company. An attempt was made by the strikers to defy this police force and
prevent the new Union from working the mine; but when most of the new
unionists had been sworn in as special constables, and a number of the
militant strikers had been arrested, the others saw that they could not
continue the struggle, and within a week or two abandoned the district,
giving place to the members of the arbitration Union in both the mine and
town.
Thus the first strike organized by the "Federation of Labor" in New
Zealand resulted in a failure, but the miners thus defeated and driven
from the little town that had been their home, in many cases for a good
many years, were naturally embittered by their failure, and became an
element of mischief in other districts, and especially in the coal mines,
to which they turned when they found it hard to obtain employment in any
of the gold mines.
The Australian Federation of Labor and its branch in New Zealand fully
appreciated the fact that their first attempt to establish a system of
Unionism opposed to the one recognized by the law, having proved a
failure, it was necessary either to give up the attempt altogether or to
make it more deliberately and on a much wider scale. The method they
adopted was one that did credit to their foresight and determination. The
Australian Federation is, and has always been, highly socialistic in its
policy, and latterly its leaders have adopted and preached syndicalism, as
promising to give the workers the control of society. New Zealand, alone
among self-governing countries, having struck at the very root of their
policy by trying to substitute a statute and a Court for the will of the
associated workers, was a very tempting country for syndicalism. An island
country which, owing to climate and soil, was specially suited for the
production of all kinds of agricultural wealth beyond the needs of its own
people, must depend on free access to the ports of other countries. This,
it seemed plain, could be prevented by well managed syndicalism. It would
be only necessary to organize the seamen who worked the vessels that kept
the smaller harbors of such a country in touch with the larger ports at
which the ocean going ships loaded and unloaded; and to organize also the
stevedores at the larger ports. The bitterness of feeling that had
followed the destruction of the Waihi Union, and the loss to its members
not only of a good many months of good wages but of the homes they and
their families had occupied for years, was a valuable asset in such a
campaign. At first, of course, some of the working classes blamed the
agents of "The Federation of Labor" who were responsible for the
disastrous strike, but it was not difficult to turn attention from the
past failure of a single strike, to the certain success that must attend a
great syndical strike that would involve all the industries of the
country. Most, indeed nearly all, of the disappointed Waihi strikers were
ready to join with enthusiasm in carrying out the plans of The Federation,
and removed to the places where they could be most effective in preparing
the way for what they looked upon as a great revenge. Thus they either
joined the old Unions at the principal ports, especially Auckland and
Wellington, or formed new Unions, no longer registered under the
Arbitration statute, but openly affiliated to The Federation of Labor,
which had been established in New Zealand, but was really a branch of the
Australian Federation. The four principal ports of New Zealand, indeed the
only ports much frequented by the large export and import vessels, are
Auckland, Wellington, Lyttleton, and Dunedin, the two first named being in
the north island, and the other two in the south. Auckland is considerably
the largest city in The Dominion, containing at least 25,000 more
inhabitants than Wellington, which is not only the capital of the
Dominion, but also the great distributing centre for the South island and
the southern part of the North island, at the southern extremity of which
it is situated. The remarkable situation of Auckland, on a very narrow
isthmus about a hundred and eighty miles from the northern point of the
country, is no doubt largely responsible for the growth of the city, which
is the chief centre of the young manufactures of the Dominion, and the
largest port of export for almost all the country produces, except wool
and mutton, which are mainly raised in the South island. Thus it happens
that Auckland and Wellington are at present the chief shipping ports of
the Dominion, and it was to them that the Federation of Labor turned its
chief attention when its leaders had definitely decided to undertake the
campaign of syndicalism against the system of arbitration which had
prevailed for sixteen years.
There had already been formed Unions of Waterside Workers and Seamen at
each of these ports; but they were in all cases registered under the
arbitration law, and of course subject to its penalties against both
officials and members in cases of any breach of the statute. The
Federation's agents proceeded to collect the members of these unions who
were in any way dissatisfied with the existing awards of the Arbitration
Courts, and to form them into new Unions outside the statute. They had
little difficulty in persuading the men that the new Unions would be free
to act in many directions that were barred to the members of the old
Unions. A good many of the men were thus persuaded to resign their
membership in the existing Unions, and as they were very often the most
active members, they gradually persuaded others to leave with them. There
was nothing either in the law or custom of the ports to prevent unionists
and non-unionists working together on the wharves or the coasting vessels;
so within a comparatively short time the members of the new Federation
Unions were more numerous than those that clung to the older ones. When
this became the case, the officials of the new Unions approached the
shipping companies with proposals for an agreement between them and the
Federation Unions in some respects more favorable to the employers than
the arbitration award under which the older Unions were working, and in
this way gained a position which enabled them to undermine the old Unions,
till they either died out for want of members or withdrew their
registration, and at the end of their six months' notice merged their
Unions in those of The Federation. The Federation's plans had been so
carefully prepared that there was little or no suspicion on the part of
the employers or of the public generally as to the true meaning of the
movement. It was evident, of course, that it indicated a revolt against
the arbitration law, but as the new unions appeared ready to give the
employers rather better terms than the old ones, many reasons were found
by employers for defending what began to be called the "Free Unions." In
this way things had gone on at the shipping ports for about two years from
the failure of the gold miners' strike at Waihi, before anything happened
to open the eyes of the public to the real meaning of what The Federation
of Labor had been doing. In that time the new Unions at each of the
principal ports of the country had quietly obtained the entire control of
the hands at waterside and local shipping, as well as of the Carters
Unions. The time had arrived when the syndicalists believed themselves
able to compel the public to submit to any demands they might see fit to
make.
The occasion finally arose, as might have been expected, at Wellington,
where the Federation of Labor had established its head-quarters. There was
no definite dispute between the employers and workers, but for a few weeks
there had been an uneasy feeling in relation to the Waterside Workers who,
it was said, were growing more lazy and slovenly in handling cargo on the
wharves and piers. A meeting had been called by The Federation to discuss
some grievances of the coal miners at Westport, from which most of the
coal landed in Wellington is brought. The meeting was called for the noon
dinner hour, and a number of the waterside workers engaged in discharging
cargo from a steamer about to sail, at once went to the meeting, and did
not return to work in the afternoon. The shipping company at once engaged
other men to finish their work, and when the men came back some hours
later, they found their places filled up. The new men belonged to the same
Union, but the men dispossessed demanded that the new ones should be
dismissed at once. When the company refused the demand, the men appealed
to the Council of the Federation, who at once called on the Waterside
Workers and Seamens Unions at Wellington to cease work. Within a few days
the position looked so serious that the Premier invited both parties to a
conference, at which he presided in person, in the hope of bringing about
an agreement to refer the matters in dispute to an arbitrator to be
mutually agreed upon. The officials of The Federation, however, said there
was nothing to submit to an arbitrator: they had made a demand, and unless
it was complied with by the shipping company and the Union of merchants at
Wellington who were in league with the Company in victimizing the men who
took part in the meeting in aid of the Coal-miners, the strike must go on.
The Merchants and Shipping Company's Unions pointed out that what had been
done was in direct opposition to the terms of the formal agreement signed
less than a year before, and they refused to have anything more to do with
the Federation on any terms. The conference thus ended in an open
declaration of war. The time had evidently come for the Federation of
Labor to make good the assertions so often made by its lecturers and
agitators, of its power to force the rest of the community to submission.
It would be difficult to imagine a more favorable position for carrying
such a policy into effect: New Zealand, it must be borne in mind, is a
country without an army. For some years past, it is true, a system of
military training for all her young men between eighteen and twenty-five
has been enforced by law, but except for training purposes, there is no
military force in the Dominion, either of regulars or militia; and it is
now forty-five years since the last company of British soldiers left its
shores. Law has been maintained, and order enforced, by a police force
under the control of the Government of the Dominion, and while the force
is undoubtedly a good and trustworthy one, its numbers have never been
large in proportion to the population. This year the entire force
throughout the country is very little more than 850, which includes
officers as well as men. It can hardly be wondered at that the officials
of The Federation of Labor were convinced that, if they could arrange a
general strike of the workers, the police force would be powerless to deal
with it. On the failure of the attempt of the Premier to bring about a
settlement between the parties by arbitration, the Federation proclaimed a
general strike of all Unions affiliated to themselves throughout the
country, and of all other Unions that were in sympathy with them in their
policy of giving united Labor the control of society. The order to cease
work was at once obeyed, as a matter of course, by all the Federation
Unions, which practically meant all the workers engaged on vessels
registered in the Dominion and trading on the coast, all workers on
wharves and piers, carters in the cities, and coal miners throughout the
country. The appeal for sympathetic assistance from Unions unconnected
with the Federation was largely successful in the chief centres, though it
was, of course, a direct defiance of the arbitration law under which they
were registered. It has since been discovered that in nearly every case it
was brought about by the unprincipled scheming of the secretaries,
assisted by a few of the officials, who called meetings, of which notice
was given only to a selected minority, and at which the question of
joining a sympathetic strike was settled by a large majority of those
present, but in fact in many cases a small minority of the whole
membership. The sympathetic strike of Arbitration Unions was mainly
confined to the cities, and Auckland, as the largest city, was the most
affected by it. In Auckland the members of practically every Union ceased
work, somewhere about ten thousand persons going on strike simultaneously.
The result during the first days of the strike seemed likely to confirm
the expectations of the Federation orators. Industry was practically dead.
At every port vessels lay at anchor, having been withdrawn from the
wharves before they were deserted by their crews, and the wharves were in
the possession of the Waterside strikers. The streets of the cities were
empty, and a large proportion of the stores were closed, partly owing to
want of business, and partly from fear of violence in case they kept open.
These first few days in both New Zealand and Australia were days of
triumph for the Federation leaders but the triumph was a short-lived one.
The Government of the Dominion did not interfere, indeed, but the public,
through their municipal authorities, did. The people of New Zealand have
throughout their history been accustomed to manage their own affairs, and
within four days of the declaration of war by the syndical Federation,
steps were taken to meet the emergency. At Auckland and Wellington it had
been evident from the first that the small police force available could
not safely attempt to cope with the main body of strikers, or do more than
prevent acts of aggressive violence to the citizens and their property.
The local authorities, however, had confidence in the general public, and
at Auckland, and afterwards at Wellington, the Mayor of the city appealed
to the public to come forward as volunteers to maintain law and order, by
acting as Special Constables. In both cities the appeal was responded to
readily, nearly two thousand young men coming forward at Auckland in
twenty-four hours, and upwards of a thousand at Wellington. These were at
once sworn in as special constables, and armed with serviceable batons,
while all the fire-arms and ammunition for sale in the city was taken
charge of and withdrawn from sale by the municipal authorities. In this
way the maintenance of order was fairly provided for, and the temporary
closing of all licensed hotels by order of the city magistrates removed
the danger of riot as the result of intemperance.
There had been some rioting in Wellington, though with little serious
injury, but there was nothing that could be called a riot in Auckland. The
Federation Unions waited, under the impression that time was on their
side, owing to the impossibility of doing anything or getting anything
done without the help of the associated workers. This had been the basis
of their scheme, but like all such schemes it failed to take into account
the instinct of self-preservation on the part of the people outside the
Unions. As long as the strike leaders could point to the fleet of vessels
lying idle in the harbor, the mills silent, and the street railroads
without a moving car, and almost deserted by carts, it was easy for them
to persuade their followers that complete victory was only a matter of
days, or at most of weeks; they had not remembered that there were others
besides themselves and their fellow townsmen interested in the question of
a paralyzed industry. The trade that has been making the people of New
Zealand increasingly rich during the last twenty years has been mainly
derived from the land. Small holdings and close settlement have been the
rule, and the rate of production has been increasingly rapid. The
exports--mainly the produce of the land--have grown in proportions quite
unknown in any other country, and the farmers knew that the prosperity of
the country, and most directly of all the workers on the land, depended on
the freedom and facilities for shipment of their ports. It was the workers
on the land, accordingly, that came to the rescue, and solved the
industrial problem. An offer was made by the President of The Farmers'
Cooperative Union to bring a sufficient number of the members into the
cities to work the shipping and to prevent any interruption of the work by
the men on strike. The offer was at once accepted by the municipal
authorities at Auckland and Wellington, and within two days fully eighteen
hundred mounted farmers rode into Auckland, and nearly a thousand into
Wellington, all prepared to carry on the work and protect the workers.
Their arrival practically settled the question. New Waterside Unions were
formed at every port, and registered under the provisions of the
Arbitration Statute; such of the country workers as were able to do so,
enrolled themselves as members of the new Unions; the wharves and water
fronts were taken possession of and guarded by the special constables
enlisted in the cities, while the streets were patrolled by parties of the
mounted volunteers. Within twenty-four hours of their arrival, some of the
vessels in harbor had been brought to the wharves, and the work of
unloading them was begun.
At first there were many threats of violent opposition on the part of the
strikers, and crowds assembled in the principal streets and in the
neighborhood of the wharves; but these were dispersed before they became
dangerous, by the mounted constables, and a proclamation having been
issued by the mayor calling attention to the fact that collections of
people that obstructed traffic in the streets were contrary to law, the
police and mounted constables cleared the streets, and forcibly arrested
any persons who attempted opposition. Within two or three days, at each of
the principal cities, new Unions of seamen and of carters had been formed
and registered under the arbitration law, and those members of the old
Federation Unions who were not enthusiastic, and began to see that the
assurances of success were not likely to be realized, began to resign and
apply for admission to the new Unions. After about two weeks the Council
of The Federation of Labor, recognizing the failure of the sympathetic
strike, invited the Unions that were not connected with them to declare
the strike at an end, and tried by confining the strike to their own
members, to maintain a solid front, which, with the help of the Australian
Federation both in money for the strikers and in refusing to handle any
goods either from or for New Zealand, they still hoped would carry them to
at least a compromise, if not to the victory they had expected. The hopes
of the Federation of Labor were not realized. Within a week or two a large
proportion of the members of their own Unions, seeing their places filled,
and their work being done, not by free labor, which they might hope to
deal with, but by new Unions, whose members would be entitled, under the
arbitration law, to preference and many other privileges, began to desert
and to seek admission to the Arbitration Unions that had taken their
place. For a time this was fiercely denied by the Federation officials,
but as the days went on, and business of every kind was resumed in the
cities, the groups of strikers at street corners and around the Federation
head-quarters dwindled away; the hotels were reopened, the shops and
stores were busy, the mills were at work, and even the coastal steamers
were manned and running, and the federationists were forced to admit that
they were hopelessly defeated. For a time they still hoped that the
Australian Boycott might save them from absolute disaster, and the Labor
Ministry of New South Wales tried to help the Federation by making an
appeal to the New Zealand Government to arrange an arbitration to settle
the dispute between The Wellington Waterside Workers and the merchants and
shipping companies. The absolute refusal of the New Zealand Government to
recognize The Federation of Labor, or to interfere with the new Unions
under the Arbitration Act that had taken their place, finally settled the
question, and completed the defeat of the strikers. The officials of the
Federation declared the strike at an end, and the Australian Federation
announced that the boycott was also at an end.
* * * * *
At first sight it may seem that, after all, the experiment in syndicalism
was on a small scale, and that its lesson can hardly be of great value to
a country like America. A little consideration may correct such a
misapprehension. New Zealand was deliberately selected by the Syndicalists
as a test case, for two reasons. In the first place it was the only
country that had for years adopted a policy of justice according to law
for both workers and employers, and from the syndicalist's point of view
it was therefore the only country that seriously attacked their own policy
by showing that it was unnecessary. In the second place New Zealand was
the only country with a population of British origin that could be dealt
with practically by itself. With the aid of an Australian boycott it
seemed as if her people must be helpless in the hands of the Federation.
The result proved to be not only the defeat of the principle of lawless
syndicalism, but the destruction of the industrial association that
represented it in the country. No compromise was accepted, and except it
may be in name, no Union attached to the Federation of Labor remains at
work. The question, of course, suggests itself: What was the reason? Minor
reasons may be found, no doubt, to account for failure where success was
so confidently expected; but there can be little doubt that the real cause
is the policy pursued by the Legislature and people of New Zealand for the
last twenty years. Syndicalism, like all plans for the over turn, or
reform, as their advocates would perhaps prefer to call it, of existing
institutions, depends for success on the existence of wrongs by which part
of the people is impoverished, while another, and very small part, has
more than enough. The workers of our own race, at any rate, have enough
common-sense to understand, at least when they are not hysterically
excited, that imaginary wrongs are not a sufficient reason for great
sacrifices. New Zealand's legislation has not created an ideal society, it
is true; but for twenty years it has proceeded step by step in the
direction of righting the wrongs of the past, and giving opportunity to
that part of its people that needed it most, on the single condition that
they would use it, and respect the rights of others. To such a people,
increasing steadily, year by year, in all that makes for well-being, the
wild denunciations, and if possible wilder promises, of paid agitators can
have little attraction. It may be possible by careful generalship to stir
a small section of such a people to the hysterical excitement of an
industrial war, but the mass of the people would be certain to resent it,
and the movement will be doomed to a speedy collapse.
Other countries have been less enlightened and less fortunate than New
Zealand in their legislation, and perhaps still less fortunate in the
administration of the laws passed for the betterment of the masses of
their people. They have done little to convince the great majority that
they are aware of the wrongs that have been done that majority in the
supposed interest of the small class of the over rich. They have not
provided opportunity for those who hitherto have had none, nor have they
even provided a reasonable alternative for industrial warfare. Had they
done these things in the past, or were they even to begin honestly to
provide for them in the future, they might confidently expect that the
reign of industrial warfare, which exasperates their people, and retards
the prosperity of their nation, would be as easily and effectually
suppressed as the experiment of the Syndicalists has just been in New
Zealand.
LABOR: "TRUE DEMAND" AND IMMIGRANT SUPPLY
A RESTATEMENT OF THE ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF IMMIGRATION POLICY
Recent historians and economists have been showing that it was anything
but pure and unadulterated sense of brotherhood that prompted many of our
forefathers' fine speeches about opening the doors of America to the
down-trodden and oppressed of Europe. Emerson, fifty years ago, in his
essay on _Fate_ noted the current exploitation of the immigrant: "The
German and Irish millions, like the Negro, have a great deal of guano in
their destiny. They are ferried over the Atlantic, and carted over
America, to ditch and to drudge, to make corn cheap, and then to lie down
prematurely to make a spot of green grass on the prairie." Indeed it would
not be hard to show that there was always a real or potential social
surplus back of our national hospitality to the alien.
The process began long before our great nineteenth century era of
industrial expansion. Colonial policies with regard to the immigrant
varied according to latitude and longitude. Most of the New England
colonies viewed the foreigner with distrust as a menace to Puritan
theocracy. New York, Pennsylvania, and some of the Southern colonies were
much more hospitable, for economic reasons. That this hospitality
sometimes resembled that of the spider to the fly is evident from
observations of contemporary writers. That it included whites as well as
negroes in its ambiguous welcome is equally evident.
John Woolman writes in his _Journal_ (1741-2): "In a few months after I
came here my master bought several Scotchmen as servants, from on board a
vessel, and brought them to Mount Holly to sell." Isaac Weld, traveling in
the United States in the last decade of the eighteenth century, noted
methods of securing aliens in the town of York, Pennsylvania: "The
inhabitants of this town as well as those of Lancaster and the adjoining
country consist principally of Dutch and German immigrants and their
descendants. Great numbers of these people emigrate to America every year
and the importation of them forms a very considerable branch of commerce.
They are for the most part brought from the Hanse towns and Rotterdam. The
vessels sail thither from America laden with different kinds of produce
and the masters of them on arriving there entice as many of these people
on board as they can persuade to leave their native country, without
demanding any money for their passages. When the vessel arrives in America
an advertisement is put into the paper mentioning the different kinds of
people on board whether smiths, tailors, carpenters, laborers, or the like
and the people that are in want of such men flock down to the vessel.
These poor Germans are then sold to the highest bidder and the captain of
the vessel or the ship holder puts the money into his pocket."
These may be, it is true, extreme cases of the economic motive for
immigration. But they are quite in line with eighteenth century
Mercantilist economic philosophy. Josiah Tucker, for example, in his
_Essay on Trade_, 1753, urges the encouragement of immigration from
France, and cites the value of Huguenot refugees. "Great was the outcry
against them at their first coming. Poor England would be ruined!
Foreigners encouraged! And our own people starving! This was the popular
cry of the times. But the looms in Spittle-Fields, and the shops on
Ludgate-Hill have at last sufficiently taught us another lesson ... these
_Hugonots_ have ... partly got, and partly saved, in the space of fifty
years, a balance in our favour of, at least, fifty millions sterling....
And as England and France are rivals to each other, and competitors in
almost all branches of commerce, every single manufacturer so coming over,
would be our gain, and a double loss to France."
The obverse side of the case appears in British hindrances to the free
emigration of artisans during the eighteenth and early nineteenth
centuries. Laws forbade any British subject who had been employed in the
manufacture of wool, cotton, iron, brass, steel, or any other metal, of
clocks, watches, etc., or who might come under the general denomination of
artificer or manufacturer, to leave his own country for the purpose of
residing in a foreign country out of the dominion of His Britannic
Majesty. Recall the difficulty early American manufacturers encountered in
introducing new English improvements in cotton manufacture; a virtual
embargo was laid upon the migration of either men or machinery. Recall,
too, an expression of American resentment in our Declaration of
Independence at this English attitude: "He has endeavored to prevent the
population of these states; for that purpose, obstructing the laws for
naturalization of foreigners, refusing to pass others to encourage
migration hither, and raising the conditions of new appropriations of
lands."
On the whole, the economic motive seems to have been uppermost in the
minds of both those who fostered and those who opposed foreign immigration
into the United States, up to, say, 1870. Likewise in perhaps more than
ninety-nine of every hundred cases the economic motive holds in the mind
of the present day immigrant, or his protagonist. Escape from political
tyranny or religious persecution, at least since the revolutionary period
of 1848, has operated only as a secondary motive. The industrial impulse
is all the more striking in the so-called "new immigration" from the
Mediterranean and South-Eastern Europe. The temporary migrant laborer, the
"bird of passage," roams about seeking his fortunes in much the same
spirit that certain Middle Age Knights or Crusades camp followers sought
theirs. This is in no way to his discredit. It is simply a fact that we
are to reckon with when called upon to work out a satisfactory immigration
policy. At least its recognition would eliminate a good deal of wordy
sentimentality from discussions of the immigration problem.
Professor Fairchild discovered that three things attract the Greek
immigrant. First and foremost, financial opportunities. Second, corollary
to the first, citizenship papers which will enable him to return to
Turkey, there to carry on business under the greater protection which such
citizenship confers. There is a hint here to the effect that mere
naturalization does not mean assimilation and permanent acceptance of the
status and responsibilities of American citizenship. Third, enjoyment of
certain more or less factitious "comforts of civilization."
But the Greeks are by no means untypical. The conclusion of the
Immigration Commission as to the causes of the new immigration is that
while "social conditions affect the situation in some countries, the
present immigration from Europe to the United States is in the largest
measure due to economic causes. It should be stated, however, that
emigration from Europe is not now an absolute economic necessity, and as a
rule those who emigrate to the United States are impelled by a desire for
betterment rather than by the necessity of escaping intolerable
conditions. This fact should largely modify the natural incentive to treat
the immigration movement from the standpoint of sentiment, and permit its
consideration primarily as an economic problem. In other words, the
economic and social welfare of the United States should now ordinarily be
the determining factor in the immigration policy of the Government."
This delimitation of the immigration problem to its economic aspects led
the Immigration Commission to recommend a somewhat restrictionist policy.
That they were not without warrant in so delimiting it is evident from the
utterances of such ardent opponents of restriction as Dr. Peter Roberts
and Max J. Kohler. The latter, writing in the _American Economic Review_
(March, 1912) said: "In fact, the immigrant laborer is indispensable to
our economic progress today, and we can rely upon no one else to build our
houses, railroads and subways, and mine our ores for us." Dr. Roberts'
plea is almost identical.
What a glaring misconception of the whole economic and social problem is
here involved will appear if we add a clause or two to Mr. Kohler's
sentence. He should have said: "We can rely upon no one else to build our
houses, railroads and subways, and mine our ores for us _at $455 a year;
for workers of native birth but of foreign fathers would cost us $566, and
native born White Americans $666 a year_." (See Abstracts of Rep. of
Immigr. Comm. vol. i., pp. 405-8.) These are the facts. This is the social
situation as it should be stated if a candid discussion of the problem is
sought.
Now what are the economic arguments for restricting somewhat the tide of
immigration? Several studies of standards of living among American
workingmen within the past ten years have shown that a large proportion of
American wage earners fall below a minimum efficiency standard. Studies of
American wages indicate that only a little over ten per cent of American
wage earners receive enough to maintain an average family in full social
efficiency. The average daily wage for the year ranges from $1.50 to $2.
One-half of all American wage earners get less than $600 a year;
three-quarters less than $750; only one-tenth more than $1,000.
Take in connection with these wage figures the statistics for
unemployment. The proportion of idleness to work ranges from one-third in
mining industries to one-fifth in other industries. In Massachusetts,
1908, manufacturers were unemployed twelve per cent of the working time.
Professor Streightoff estimated three years ago that the average annual
loss in this country through unemployment is 1,000,000 years of working
time. Perhaps one-tenth of working time might be taken as a very
conservative general average loss. But the worst feature of the whole
problem is that, in certain industries at least, the tendency to seasonal
unemployment is increasing. Ex-Commissioner Neill in his report on the
Lawrence strike said: "... it is a fact that the tendency in many lines of
industry, including textiles, is to become more and more seasonal and to
build to meet maximum demands and competitive trade conditions more
effectively. This necessarily brings it about that a large number of
employés are required for the industry during its period of maximum
activity who are accordingly of necessity left idle during the period of
slackness." (Senate Document 870, 62d Cong., 2d sess., 1912.)
If we recall still further that the casual laborer, who suffers most from
seasonal unemployment, is the chief stumbling block in the way to a
solution of the problem of poverty; that he furnishes the human power in
"sweated trades:" that immigrants form the majority of unskilled and
sweated laborers; if we remember that there is not a shred of evidence
(except the well-meant enthusiasm of the protagonists of the immigrant) to
show that immigration has "forced-up" the American laborer and his
standard of living, instead of displacing him downward; if we remember
that probably 10,000,000 of our people are in poverty, and that though the
immigrant may not seek charity in any larger proportions than the poor of
native stock, yet he does contribute heavily to our burden of relief for
dependents and defectives: we are justified in assuming that an analysis
of the causes of poverty confirms the evidence from studies of wages and
standards of living as to the depressing effect of the new immigration, in
particular, upon working conditions for the American laborer.
Consider, too, the question of "social surplus." Several American
economists, among them Professors Hollander, Patten and Devine, agree that
we are creating annually in the United States a substantial social
surplus. But it is evident from the figures of wages and standards of
living quoted above that the American laborer is not participating as he
might expect to participate in this economic advantage. Three factors
conspire against him. First, we have yet no adequate machinery for
determining exactly what the surplus is, or how to distribute it
equitably. Mr. Babson with his "composite statistical charts" has made a
beginning in the mathematical determination of prosperity; but it is only
a beginning. Second, organized labor is not yet sufficiently organized nor
sufficiently self-conscious to perceive and demand its opportunity for a
larger share. The significant point here is that recent immigration has
hampered and hindered the development of labor organizations, and thus
indirectly held back the normal tendency of wages to rise. Third,
inadequate education, particularly economic and social education. The
adult illiterate constitutes a tremendous educational problem. Over 35 per
cent of the "new immigration" of 1913 was illiterate, and this new
immigration included over two-thirds of the total. Ignorance prevents the
laborer from demanding the very education that would give him a better
place in the economic system; it hinders the play of intelligent
self-interest; and it actually prevents effective labor-organization,
which is one of the surest means of labor-education. Jenks and Lauck,
after experience with the Immigration Commission, concluded that "the fact
that recent immigrants are usually of non-English speaking races, and
their high degree of illiteracy, have made their absorption by the labor
organizations very slow and expensive. In many cases, too, the conscious
policy of the employers of mixing the races in different departments and
divisions of labor, in order, by a diversity of tongues, to prevent
concerted action on the part of employés, has made unionization of the
immigrant almost impossible."
For these reasons, and others, we are driven to the conclusion that future
policies of immigration must be based on sound principles of social
welfare and social economy, and not upon the economic advantage of certain
special industries. Whether we want the brawn of the immigrant must be
determined by what it will contribute to the general social surplus, and
not by what it adds to A's railroads or B's iron mines.
We are told that the three classes of our population demanding
unrestricted immigration are large employers of unskilled labor,
transportation companies, and revolutionary anarchists. Since this is by
definition an economic and not a philosophical question, we may neglect
the third class. To the other two classes should be directed certain brief
tests of economic good faith. Take at its face value their claim that
European brawn by the ship-load is indispensable to American industry. It
is becoming an accepted maxim that industry should bear its own charges,
should pay its own way. American industry has long fought the
contract-labor exclusion feature in current immigration law. Suppose we
frankly admit that it is much better for the immigrant to come over here
to a definite job than to wander about for weeks after he arrives, a prey
to immigrant banks, fake employment agents, and other sharks. Suppose,
accordingly, we repeal the laws against contract-labor. Let the employer
contract for as many foreign laborers as he likes or says he needs. But
make the contractor liable for support and deportation costs if the
laborers become public charges. Also require him to assume the cost of
unemployment insurance. Exact a bond for the faithful performance of these
terms, guaranteed in somewhat the same way that National Banks are
safeguarded. Immigration authorities now commonly require a bond from the
relatives of admitted aliens who seem likely to become public charges, but
who are allowed to enter with the benefit of the doubt. Customs and
revenue rules admit dutiable goods in bond. Hence the principle of the
bond is perfectly familiar, and its application to contract-immigrants
would be in no sense an untried or dangerous experiment. It would
establish no new precedent: for precedents, and successful ones, are
already established, accepted and approved. It would be understood that
all admissions of aliens can be only provisional, with no time limit on
deportation. It would be understood further--and the plan would work
automatically if the contractor were made such a deeply interested
party--that intending immigrants must be rigidly inspected, that they be
required to produce consular certificates of clean police record, freedom
from chronic disease, insanity, etc.
The result of such a scheme would probably cut away entirely
contract-labor; for it would not longer pay. But this does not mean
barring the gate to all foreign labor. As an aid to the employer and to
our own native workingman, we must, sooner or later, and the sooner the
better, establish a chain of labor bureaus throughout the Union. The
system must be placed under Federal direction, largely because the
Department of Labor would be charged, _ex officio_, with ascertaining the
"true demand" for immigrant labor, and it could only accomplish this end
effectively through such an employment clearing system. This true demand
would, of course, be based not only upon mere numerical excess of calls
for labor over demands for jobs, but would also take into account the
nature of the work, working conditions, and above all the prevailing level
of wages. According to this true demand the Department would adjust a
sliding scale of admissions of immigrant laborers.
Much might be said in favor of an absolute embargo upon all immigration
until such a body as the Industrial Relations Commission has time to make
an authoritative economic survey of the whole country, or until the
Unemployment Research Commission recently called for by Miss Kellor could
make the three years' study contemplated by her as the only way out of the
unemployment morass. Twenty years ago men of the type of General Walker
frankly urged that the immigration gates be closed for a flat period of
ten years or so. But the sliding scale plan contemplates no such radical
step. Indeed it is radical in no sense whatever. The proposed immigration
act now before Congress (The Burnett Bill, H.R. 6060) paves the way for
it, and provides a working principle, which apparently is accepted on all
sides. Section 3 includes this clause: "That skilled labor, if otherwise
admissible, may be imported if labor of like kind unemployed can not be
found in this country, and the question of the necessity of importing such
skilled labor in any particular instance may be determined by the
Secretary of Labor...." A really workable test for immigration, superior
by far to the literacy test or any other so far suggested, might easily be
developed by simply enlarging the scope of this clause, making it include
unskilled as well as skilled labor. No machinery other than that
contemplated by the present act would be required.
The immigration problem can never be satisfactorily handled until we fix
upon some such means of determining just what the economic need is. There
is no danger of hindering legitimate industrial expansion in times of
sudden business prosperity: for the transportation companies may be safely
trusted to supply in three or four weeks aliens enough to fill all the
gaps in the industrial army. Neither would injustice be done to the
immigrant himself. On the contrary, he would be assured of a job and
respectful consideration when he arrived. The "dago" or the "bohunk" would
acquire a new dignity and a more enviable status than he now occupies. The
selective process thus involved would much improve the quality of the
immigrant admitted, and would incidentally render assimilation of the
foreigner all the easier.
The precise details of selection, and the machinery, are mere matters of
detail. But the consular service, as long ago suggested by Catlin,
Schuyler and others, seems to offer the proper base of operations. We have
already recommended charging consuls with viséing certificates from
police, medical, and poor-relief authorities. We should further require
that declarations of intention to migrate be published (somewhat as
marriage banns are published) at local administrative centers
(arrondissement, Bezirk, etc.) and at United States consular offices; the
consular declaration should be obligatory; perhaps the other might be
optional, though in all probability foreign governments would coöperate in
demanding it. These validated declarations of intention should be filed in
the consular offices. When notice comes from the United States Department
of Labor that so many laborers will be admitted from such and such
district, the declarations are to be taken up in the order of their
filing, and the proper number of persons certified for admission. The
apportionment of admissions from each country might be calculated on a
basis of its population, also upon the nature of the employment offered,
and upon the desirability of the alien himself, his general
assimilability, his willingness to become naturalized, to adopt the
English language and the American standard of living among efficient
workers, etc.,--all as proved by past experience with his countrymen. This
plan, in so far as it provides for a sliding scale of admissions, is in
line with that proposed by Professor Gulick. He advocates making all
nations eligible for admission and citizenship, but would admit them only
in proportion as they can be readily assimilated. This would admit
annually, say, five per cent of those already naturalized, with their
American children. The principle here seems to be that we can assimilate
from any land in, and only in, proportion to the number already
assimilated from that land. But the difficulty of applying such a test
lies in the complexity of the assimilative process. No measure yet exists
for assimilation. Anthropologists are convinced that various strains in
the populations, for example of France, or Great Britain, which have been
dwelling together for centuries, are not by any means assimilated. Mere
naturalization is not a sufficient test of assimilation; it is only the
expression of a desire to be assimilated; and it may only be a device for
the promotion of business success here or in foreign parts, as we have
already indicated in the case of the Greeks. Hence in working out the
basis of a sound immigration policy, it would seem more practicable to
consider first the question of economic utilization rather than
assimilation. This, of course, does not exclude from the Secretary of
Labor's judgment the category of assimilability as one of the factors in
determining the apportionment of admissions.
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
The Unpopular Review, Number 19
Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
The Unpopular Review
SOME THINGS IN WHICH WE ARE TRYING TO DO OUR BIT
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workman, which involve on the one hand recognition of the Trade Unions,
and on the other, of the Open Shop.
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Our humble efforts for these causes have so far been not only gratuitous
but costly. Therefore we feel justified in suggesting to the reader who
has not yet subscribed, the question whether out of the sums which he
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UNPOPULAR REVIEW, and in the Casserole of No. 3.
In order that the new writers may stand an equal chance with
the old, and the old not unduly depend upon their reputations,
the names of writers are not given until the number following
the one in which their articles appear.
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
18 WEST 45th STREET
NEW YORK CITY
LONDON: WILLIAMS & NORGATE
CONTENTS OF THE PRECEDING NUMBER (18, for April-June, 1918)
WHY AMERICA LAGS, Alvin S. Johnson, Professor in Stanford
University.
ON GOING AFOOT, Charles S. Brooks.
THE PROBLEM OF ALSACE-LORRAINE, C. D. Hazen, Professor in
Columbia University.
VISCOUNT MORLEY, Paul Elmer More, Advisory Editor of _The
Nation_.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE TRAINING CAMP, George R. MacMinn,
Professor in University of California.
HALF SOLES, Herbert Wilson Smith.
PRICE FIXING BY GOVERNMENT, David McGregor Means.
TURKEY UNDER GERMAN TUTELAGE, Rufus W. Lane.
MACHINE AND MAN, Grant Showerman, Professor in University of
Wisconsin.
THE ATHLETIC HABIT OF MIND, Edward F. Hayward.
ARBITERS OF FATE, Virginia Clippinger.
FOOD CONSERVATION AND THE WOMAN, Mary Austin.
SOME REFLECTIONS ON REVOLUTION, T. Lothrop Stoddard.
THE JOB AND THE OUTSIDER, H. W. Boynton.
DURCHALTEN! Vernon L. Kellogg, Professor in Stanford
University.
A NEW PSYCHIC SENSITIVE, The Editor.
CORRESPONDENCE: "The Obscurity of Philosophers"--Our Tax
Troubles Again.
EN CASSEROLE: Concerning these Hasty War Marriages--Bergson
and the Yellow Peril--A Problematic Personality--"Clause" and
"Phrase."
CONTENTS
FOR JULY-SEPTEMBER, 1918
NATURALIZATION IN THE SPOTLIGHT OF WAR 1
WAR PROPHETS 19
MY FRIEND THE JAY 33
THE FLEMISH QUESTION 43
IMMORTALITY IN LITERATURE 56
CARLYLE AND KULTUR 66
THE FREEDOM OF THE SEAS 79
THE CONDITIONS OF TOLERANCE 94
THE NEO-PARNASSIANS 106
HUMANISM AND DEMOCRACY 114
THE MODERN MEDICINE MAN 127
"THE PUREST OF HUMAN PLEASURES" 140
WAR FOR EVOLUTION'S SAKE 146
JOHN FISKE 160
PLEASE EXPLAIN THESE DREAMS 190
CORRESPONDENCE 201
More Freedom from Hereditary Bias
EN CASSEROLE 202
If We are Late--The Kindly and Modest German--What the Cat
Thinks of the Dog--A Hunting-Ground of Ignorance--Maximum
Price-Fixing in Ancient Rome--Darwin on His Own
Discoveries--Reflections of an Old-Maid Aunt--An Obscure
Source of Education--Heart-to-Heart Advertising--The Curse of
Fall Elections--Larrovitch--Our Index
The Unpopular Review
NO. 19 JULY-SEPTEMBER VOL. X
NATURALIZATION IN THE SPOTLIGHT OF WAR
Amid the manifold uncertainties into which the war has plunged us, one
fact stands out with increased definiteness--that in our midst, and even
voting on our policies, of life or death,--we have had for many years
large numbers of people who at best give only a divided allegiance to
this country, and at worst are devoted and violent partisans of some
foreign state. The evidence of this truth has been of the most
diversified character, including the destruction of warehouses, docks,
and munitions factories, the burning of immense quantities of food, the
manufacture of ineffective torpedoes, the attempted blowing up of war
ships, and the dissemination of disease germs among children, soldiers,
and cattle. The uniform object of all these activities has been the
decrease of the war efficiency of the United States. The indications
seem conclusive that the perpetrators have been, not special German
spies or agents sent over here after our entry into the war or in
anticipation of it, but among the candidates for Mr. Gerard's five
thousand lampposts--persons who have lived in our midst for long
periods, and have been accepted as belonging to us.
So suddenly overwhelming has been the demonstration since the war began,
and particularly since the United States entered the war, that there is
great danger that the impression will become established that the war
created the situation, that the danger is a war danger, and that the
problem will automatically solve itself when the war is over. Nothing
could be more prejudicial to a correct understanding of the situation,
and to a sound solution of the national problems which will confront us
when the war is over. The war has not created the danger from
alien-hearted members of the body politic, it has merely revealed it.
The situation is the creation of our traditional policy toward
foreigners, and the menace inherent in the situation existed, and was
discerned by many close students of political affairs, long before the
war was dreamed of. Although then the manifestations of this danger were
less spectacular, the danger itself was no less persistent, pervasive,
and insidious. When Carl Petersen is triumphantly inducted into
municipal office, not because he is a Republican or a Democrat, not
because he stands thus and so on important public questions, but because
he is a Swede; when Patrick O'Donnell is made detective sergeant, not
because he has the highest qualifications of all the men available, but
because he belongs to the same Irish lodge as the chief of police; when
Salvini, and Goldberg, and Trcka receive political preferment or
judicial favor because of the race from which they spring or the nation
from which they come, the essence of the peril is exactly the same as
when Hans Ahlberg tries to sink an American merchantman because its
cargo of wheat is destined for England instead of Germany.
The peril in question is the peril of having in a democracy large groups
of voters actuated by racial and national affiliations other than those
of the country in which they live: in other words, large elements of
unassimilated foreigners. The assertion of this danger does not
necessarily carry the implication of any inferiority, mental, physical,
or moral, on the part of the foreigners. Difference without inferiority
is dangerous, difference coupled with inferiority is definitely
injurious. There is no need to reiterate the manifold evils which have
already developed, and which threaten to develop, from immigration of
the poor quality which our selective tests have not sufficed to prevent.
Undoubtedly the physical and mental average of our people, possibly also
the moral average, has already been definitely reduced, and the progress
of the working classes toward a reasonably high standard of living has
been checked, but the point which needs emphasis here is that difference
in itself is dangerous. The immigrant who is still a foreigner in
sympathy and character exerts a prejudicial influence upon the life of
the nation at every point of contact. It is impossible for him to
function as a normal unit in the social complex. If by naturalization he
acquires the right to participate in political affairs, the opportunity
for injury is multiplied. He cannot possibly approach public questions
as if his allegiance were wholly with the country of his residence.
These facts are particularly illustrated with us by the very large
element known as "birds of passage." The only way these evils can be
overcome is through genuine assimilation.
Assimilation is a spiritual metamorphosis. It manifests itself in many
changes of dress, of language, of manners, and of conduct. But these
outward semblances are not assimilation. An alien is thoroughly
assimilated into a new society only when he becomes completely imbued
with its spiritual heritage. He must cease to think and feel and imagine
in ways determined by his old social environment, and must respond to
the stimuli of social contact in all ways exactly as if from the very
beginning he had developed under the influence of his adopted society.
And this involves, of course, the entire abandonment of any sympathy,
affection, or loyalty different from that which might be felt by any
native of his new home for the country of his origin or the people of
that country. Complete assimilation so defined may seem impossible to
the adult immigrant. This is almost universally the truth. The spiritual
impress of the environment of one's infancy, childhood, and youth, can
seldom be eradicated during the later years of life. Realizing this,
those who hate to admit that our immigrants are not being assimilated,
hasten to modify the definition. But this does not help the case,
because it does not alter the situation.
In this respect, the war has already rendered a distinct service to this
country. No longer can we blind ourselves to the fact that national
unity does not exist. Professor William Graham Sumner used often to
remark that the United States had no just claim to the name of nation,
because of the presence of the negroes within its borders. Whether that
particular definition of "nation" is adopted or not, there can be no
doubt that real national homogeneity is wholly lacking, and that the
negro is by no means the only discordant element. In fact, in many ways
the immigration problem is more imminent and menacing than the negro
problem: for the negro problem is in a sense static, since it is not
aggravated by continuous accessions from without. We know what the negro
problem is, and can state it in terms which will be relatively
permanent. But the immigration problem presents constantly changing
aspects, not only because of its growing numerical proportions, but
because of the diversity of its elements, and the uncertainty as to its
future developments.
One of the striking manifestations of this new recognition of our
dangerous situation is the change of front of those who are opposed to
the restriction of immigration. The stock answer to the warnings of the
restrictionists used to be the assertion that assimilation was taking
place with perfectly satisfactory rapidity and completeness. America was
the great "melting-pot" of the nations, out of which was to flow--was,
in fact, actually flowing--a new and better type of man, purged of all
slag and dross. As conclusive proofs of this claim, were advanced all
those superficial adaptations to new surroundings which the immigrant
and his children make with so much display and gusto. The assimilating
power of the American People was asserted to be unlimited, and if there
were any hitches in the process, they could all be remedied by
distribution. How suddenly has this elaborate erection of analogies,
metaphors, and pseudo-arguments been shown up for the flimsy camouflage
that it really was! Miss Grace Abbott, the avowed champion of the
immigrant, is forced to admit that "unity of religion, unity of race,
unity of ideals, do not exist in the United States. We are many
nationalities scattered across a continent." Miss Frances Kellor writes
a book on _Straight America_, in which she confesses the failure of
assimilation in the past, and turns to universal military service as a
last resort. Mrs. Mary Antin remains discreetly silent, and Mr. Isaac A.
Hourwich is less in the public eye than formerly.
* * * * *
But even yet the opponents of restriction are not willing to submit to
the logic of the situation, and instead of admitting the present need of
true restriction, come forward with a new substitute. This substitute
goes by the general name of "Americanization," and is urged upon us as
the appropriate and adequate remedy for the ills which none can longer
deny. The essence of this movement is that those who embody the true
American ideas and ideals--a group seldom named or definitely described,
but usually vaguely referred to as "we"--should bend all their energies
toward the assimilation of our foreign population, and should seek by
artificial and purposive expedients to accomplish that cultural
transmutation for which the natural and unconscious relationships of the
immigrant have proved wholly inadequate. And it must be freely granted
that many of the specific proposals of the "Americanizers" are
intrinsically meritorious and worthy of adoption. When it is suggested
that our foreign populations ought to be better housed, fed, clothed,
educated and amused, we all rise in assent--provided he will do his
share toward it; yet in self-defence we must do more than ours. When we
are urged to assist the immigrant to learn the English language and
familiarize himself with the political history and government of this
nation, our common sense gives ready response. The gross absurdity of
the movement lies in the assumption that any or all of these things,
good as they are, constitute assimilation, or will, in the natural
course of their accomplishment, produce assimilation. Who will undertake
to show that those persons of foreign birth who, in the last three and a
half years, have most flagrantly violated their obligations to the
country of their adoption, are on the whole less well educated, less
familiar with the English language, less prosperous, or even less versed
in American institutions, than those who have remained loyal at heart,
or at least in conduct? By all means let us have as small a proportion
of our people as possible who cannot read and write, who do not
understand the English language, who treat their women according to the
code of mediaeval semi-barbarism, and who are content with living
conditions something lower than what we consider proper for domestic
animals. But let us not imagine that those who have freed themselves
from these anomalies are therefore true Americans.
* * * * *
However, the crowning insult offered to the intelligence of the American
people by the Americanization movement is the soberly uttered and
persistently reiterated proposition that the best way to cure the evils
of a heterogeneous population is to naturalize the foreigners! In the
voluminous literature issued by the group of organizations directly
connected with this movement, the three injunctions to the foreigner
which appear with the greatest frequency and emphasis are: "Attend night
school," "Learn the English language," "Become an American citizen." As
already stated, no fault can be found with the first two admonitions in
themselves. But the third calls for close scrutiny, particularly as it
involves a fundamental question which is sure to rise to prominence when
the war is over. What benefits can be expected from our hasty
naturalization of aliens? What is the effect upon the aliens and upon
the country, of this urgent invitation to become citizens? Ought it to
be made easier or harder to acquire citizenship?
The first step in the answer to the foregoing questions is the
examination of the real meaning of naturalization, and the process by
which it is achieved in the United States. Naturalization is the act of
conferring citizenship by a certain state upon a certain individual who
hitherto has been a citizen or subject of another state. Citizenship
implies rights and privileges, allegiance and obligations. The only
difference that may be looked for in an individual after naturalization
is that he now enjoys such rights and privileges, and owes such duties
and obligations as appertain to State B instead of State A. The act of
naturalization is not a developmental experience or process, but merely
the registry of a change of status. Any transformations in the character
of the individual which are regarded as essential to fitness for
citizenship in State B should have taken place before naturalization.
The act of naturalization will not produce them, nor is there adequate
ground for assuming that they will generally follow that act. The only
question which concerns the naturalizing official is whether the
candidate is already affiliated at heart with the new country instead of
the old, and the tests imposed upon the candidate are theoretically
designed to determine or guarantee that affiliation. If, therefore, the
foreigner was in any degree dangerous to his adopted country while an
alien, there is no reason to suppose that he will be materially less so
as a naturalized citizen. On the contrary, he is in a position to do
much greater harm, because of the new powers and opportunities which
naturalization confers, and because of the new confidence and trust
which he enjoys through his citizenship.
The harm thus done by naturalized but unassimilated citizens may be
malicious and intentional or incidental. Many of the notorious election
scandals of the past have been made possible by large numbers of
foreigners who, having sought citizenship for narrowly selfish reasons,
have used it in unscrupulous ways. It is true that they have frequently
been abetted by native-born politicians; but the foreigners furnished
the material. The injury done involuntarily, however, by
well-intentioned voters who simply are not Americans, is even more
serious because more extensive and more insidious. These are the men who
have taken the oath of allegiance in all sincerity, supposing themselves
to be as much in tune with the spirit of American life as the occasion
called for. They have lived up to their lights as consistently, perhaps,
as the majority of native-born voters of the same class. But their
participation in public affairs has constantly been colored by racial or
national affiliations, by a foreign outlook on life, and by incapacity
to appreciate the true genius of the American nation. Their influence
has therefore been to neutralize or thwart the efforts of conscientious
intelligent Americans to grapple with national problems. An interesting
case in point is the naturalized German referred to in "A Family Letter"
in the December _Atlantic Monthly_, who refused to buy an inch of land
in this country, in order that he might be free at any time to return to
Germany. It has taken the emergency of a war to reveal to many
naturalized citizens how mistaken they were (this at least is the most
charitable interpretation) when they supposed that the old allegiance
had been thoroughly subordinated.
It is a most extraordinary inversion of logic, this mental process by
which people persuade themselves that rushing our aliens through the
naturalization courts will better our national situation. The line of
argument seems to be something like this: A foreign resident of the
United States who desires to participate fully in the life of the
nation, and who is sincerely devoted to the best interests of the
country, will wish to become a citizen; therefore, every naturalized
citizen desires to participate fully in the life of the nation and is
sincerely devoted to its best interests. Or perhaps a slightly less
fantastic process of cerebration might be this: Naturalization is
conferred upon foreigners who have fitted themselves to be received into
citizenship; therefore, to accelerate the process of naturalization is
to reduce the number of foreigners unfitted for citizenship.
If our naturalization laws were so strict, and the courts which
administer them so scrupulous, that no alien could acquire citizenship
except upon a convincing demonstration of his assimilation, it would do
less positive harm to urge aliens to become citizens, because they would
know, or would in time learn, that to do so they must bring themselves
into complete harmony with the spirit of the nation. It is therefore
essential to examine the prescribed qualifications for naturalization,
and see exactly what citizenship papers stand for.
* * * * *
The requirements are simply stated. The candidate must be a free white
person, or a person of African nativity or African descent. He must be
twenty-one years of age. He must have resided continuously five years in
the United States, and one year in the State in which he makes
application. He must have had his "first paper" at least two years, but
not more than seven years. He must be of good moral character, must be
attached to the principles of the Constitution of the United States, and
must be able to speak English (unless registered under the Homestead
Laws) and to sign his name. He must not be an anarchist or a polygamist.
He must renounce any hereditary title or order of nobility, and all
allegiance and fidelity to any foreign potentate, prince, city, or state
of which he is a subject. He must affirm his intention to reside
permanently in the United States, and must declare on oath that he will
"support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States
against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and bear true faith and
allegiance to the same." He must have as witnesses two citizens of the
United States who testify as to his residence in the United States, his
moral character, his attachment to the Constitution, and his general
fitness (in their opinion) to be admitted to citizenship.
Now, assuming for the time being that the court officials apply the law
with the utmost possible rigor, what is there in the foregoing list of
requirements that guarantees that the newly made citizen is free from
any lingering attachment to any other country, and ready to enter
single-heartedly into the life of the nation, ready to share its burdens
and the responsibility of grappling with its problems, in a way at all
comparable to the native-born citizen?
The qualifications in question fall into two groups: first, those which
are matters of demonstrable fact, and second those which are mere
asseverations of the candidate himself, or of his witnesses. Most
important in the first category is the period of residence. With the aid
of the records of the immigration bureau this fact can be definitely
established. But what of it? What does a residence of five years mean as
to assimilation? Under modern conditions almost nothing. This provision
was written into the law over a century ago, after heated debate, and
has never been changed, though in the middle of the nineteenth century
it was subjected to vigorous attacks by powerful parties who wished the
period raised to twenty-one years. In a simpler organization of society,
there was some meaning in the five-year requirement. When communities
were small, when foreigners were few, when the United States still
preserved some of the character of mediaeval society, of which it has
been said, "the essence ... was that, in every manor, every one knew
everything about his neighbor," it was scarcely possible for an alien to
reside five years in the country without becoming well known to a number
of native citizens in his community, and establishing many points of
contact with Americanizing influences. But in twentieth century America
conditions are completely reversed. It is not only possible, but in
innumerable cases the fact, that an alien may live, not only five nor
twenty-one, but forty or fifty years in the midst of an American
community without experiencing more than the most infinitesimal molding
from a definitely American environment. In fact, the majority of recent
immigrants do not really live in America at all, in anything more than a
strictly geographical sense, but in communities almost as foreign as
those from which they came. The mere physical fact of five years
residence of itself signifies absolutely nothing as to the fitness of
the alien to share in controlling the destiny of the nation. Let us
therefore examine the other requirements in this group.
The candidate must be twenty-one years of age. This is reasonable and
desirable, but tells us nothing of the alien's fitness for citizenship.
The period of at least two years intervening between the issue of the
first and second papers was presumably designed to give opportunity for
investigation of the candidate's fitness, but rarely serves that purpose
now. There remain, then, three positive requirements of fact--race, and
ability to speak English and to sign one's name. The general question of
the greater desirability of one race over another, as material for
American citizenship, is too involved to be adequately treated in this
connection; clearly there is nothing here to indicate the fitness of the
individual. This leaves just two tests of real assimilation, viz.,
ability to speak English and to sign one's name. These are assuredly
among the minimum requirements for citizenship, but they do not go very
far.
Turning then to the qualifications which rest upon the statements of the
candidate and his witnesses, we find that he must be of good moral
character, and not a polygamist nor an anarchist. Assuming that the
truth is told, these requisites are beyond objection, but what do they
tell us of the fitness of the alien for American citizenship? To
renounce hereditary titles is a proper enough requirement, but one that
throws no light upon the candidacy of the majority of modern immigrants.
The statement of intention of permanent residence in this country is
meant as a guarantee of the good purposes of the alien in becoming a
citizen. But naturally this will be treated most lightly by those who
need it most, and it is a question whether a foreigner whose motives are
questionable is any more desirable in the country than out of it.
Anyway, the destination of good intentions is proverbial. Finally, then,
the alien must renounce all foreign allegiance and fidelity, and swear
to his attachment to the principles of the Constitution of this country,
and engage to support and defend it and the laws against all enemies.
Remembering that, whatever may have been the efficacy of the provision
about witnesses in the early stages of our history, it has degenerated
into a sorry farce in modern times, when professional witnesses hang
about the courts, ready to swear to anything for anybody, what does the
whole naturalization procedure, as stipulated by law, amount to?
Practically to nothing more than the statement by the alien himself that
he wishes to transfer his allegiance from a foreign state to this, and
the swearing of fidelity. We virtually offer citizenship freely to any
alien who can meet certain arbitrary requirements as to residence, race,
etc., and is willing to take the oath of allegiance. The one tangible
thing is the oath, and the unreliability of the oath as a guarantee of
undivided allegiance has been demonstrated over and over again in past
decades, and most emphatically by the traitorous behavior of some of our
naturalized citizens since 1914.
In practice, officials may or may not add to the requirements of the law
a brief examination designed to reveal the candidate's knowledge of the
workings of the federal and state governments. But even at best, these
questions and their appropriate answers occupy only half a dozen pages
or so in a convenient little textbook, which assures the alien that if
he "thoroughly familiarizes himself with the meaning of the questions
and with the answers thereto, he will be sufficiently qualified to be
admitted to citizenship," even though the order in which the questions
are asked should be varied a little. To cram up on this examination
could hardly occupy an intelligent high school boy a couple of hours.
Since we thus offer citizenship almost for the asking to any white or
African alien who has resided here five years, it follows that the
issuance of naturalization papers does not guarantee any degree of
assimilation, and to urge aliens to become naturalized is in no sense
equivalent to urging them to fit themselves for the responsibilities of
citizenship. There is accordingly absolutely nothing to be said in
defense of the notion that urging naturalization upon our aliens will
improve our domestic situation.
* * * * *
But what of the opposite side of the case? Are there any positive
objections to the propaganda in question? The answer involves an
analysis of the probable effects upon the alien of such vigorous
encouragement, and the probable effects upon the United States of a
large increase of naturalized citizens. The latter problem practically
resolves itself into the query whether an unassimilated foreigner is
less dangerous as citizen than as an alien. This has already been
answered. Because of the added power, opportunity, and protection which
the naturalized citizen enjoys, and because of the greater demands he
may make upon the government, he is in a position to do much more harm,
maliciously or otherwise, as a citizen than as an alien. It is true that
federal naturalization does not give him the right to vote. The suffrage
is a matter of states' rights. Most states require federal
naturalization; some require additional qualifications, such as
literacy, while about fifteen allow even unnaturalized aliens to vote.
In the absence of guarantees to the contrary, it is quite possible, not
only that the alien may not be fitted for citizenship, but that he may
desire citizenship for unworthy or ulterior purposes. Until stopped by a
recent law, it was a common practice for subjects of backward or
despotic foreign countries to come to the United States, remain five
years and take out their citizenship papers, with no intention of even
remaining longer, but with the definite purpose of returning to their
native land and there carrying on their various businesses in the
enjoyment of the greater facilities and protection given by the American
flag.
Another common motive is to qualify for a better municipal or state job.
Among the documents issued by the Americanizing agencies is a poster,
bordered in red, white, and blue, and illustrated by a representation of
Uncle Sam, his right hand clasping that of a sturdy immigrant, while his
left points invitingly to the judge who is issuing naturalization
papers. After the customary plea to become a citizen, the legend
continues: "It means a better opportunity and a better home in America.
It means a better job. It means a better chance for your children. It
means a better America." (Why not add, "It means a chance to turn a few
honest dollars on election day?") If these statements were true, the
case would be bad enough, as, with the exception of the last, they
appeal to a decidedly low motive for seeking citizenship. But they are
not true. The newly made citizen in time finds out that they are not
true, and then he feels cheated. When the better home and better job
fail to materialize, any budding sense of obligation to his new country
receives a sad shock.
Urging citizenship upon the alien must inevitably produce an attitude of
mind exactly the opposite from that which would make him a useful
citizen. That which comes easily is lightly regarded, and that which is
presented in such a way that the taking of it appears a favor, is not
looked upon with great reverence or respect. In this respect much of the
literature of the Americanization movement is most pernicious. Moreover
the emphasis is all on the personal advantages of citizenship, not at
all on its duties or responsibilities.
In this particular our forefathers were much wiser than we. They
recognized that American citizenship was a thing of great value, to be
regarded as a boon, procurable only by earnest endeavor and true merit.
They could not have comprehended how the liberties for which the
Revolutionary heroes fought and bled could ever be so degraded as to be
hawked about the market place. We would do well to follow their example.
We esteem the United States most highly of all nations. We believe that
it owes a peculiar debt to posterity, that those entrusted with its
career should be imbued with the most profound respect for it, the
deepest sense of their responsibility to it, and the most thorough
equipment for the adequate performance of their duties with respect to
it. To participate in the control of the destiny of this great democracy
is an undertaking of the gravest sort; and five years residence and the
other requirements of the naturalization law are no more a fit
preparation for it than five years of service in the office of a
corporation and familiarity with the office routine fit the office boy
to become a director.
Any propaganda directed toward our aliens should therefore take the form
of urging, even to the point of insistence, that they _fit themselves_
for citizenship. This will make them more useful and less troublesome
residents, whether they are eventually naturalized or not. But
citizenship itself should be held aloft, portrayed to them as a
priceless boon, to be won only as a reward of long and patient effort,
and a complete demonstration of their fitness. If this results in
discouraging some foreigners from coming to this country, no harm will
be done. If it results in increasing the proportion of residents who do
not share in the government, and if this is in itself an evil, the
remedy is to be applied at the ports of entry, and not in the
naturalization courts.
It is emphatically true that changes in our naturalization procedure are
needed. But they should be in the direction of greater strictness, not
of greater laxity. It is not the purpose of this paper to discuss in
detail what these changes should be, but to emphasize the necessity that
in general the requirements should be more inclusive, more positive,
more significant of the assimilation and fitness of the candidate, more
determinative of his good intentions in presenting his petition. One
change that is certainly called for is the modification of state laws,
by federal coercion if necessary, so as to make it impossible for aliens
to vote. As social organization becomes more complex, the influence of
government upon the life of the individual becomes more extensive, more
intimate, and more vital; and as the sphere of government expands, the
responsibilities of the electorate become heavier and more intricate.
When peace is restored, and the period of reconstruction commences, the
demands upon the intelligence, fidelity, and conscience of the voter
will be vastly greater than ever before in the world's history. It is
essential to the maintenance of democracy and the progress of humanity
that the United States face this critical period with the most efficient
and harmonious electorate possible.
Does emphasis upon national homogeneity and solidarity seem too
reactionary in this crisis of the world's history? Does it appear that
laying stress on the differentiation of nationalities within our borders
will prevent the United States from playing its appropriate part in the
coming period of reconstruction, which, we are told, must involve
recognition of the principle of internationality? A moment's thought
will make it clear that this position is a mistaken one when the war is
over. Nations will still exist, nor will they pass out of existence with
the progress of any revolutionary international adjustments that may be
made. Whatever action is taken in the direction of a world federation
must be made by self-conscious units, and must rest upon the basis of
well-knit nations. The recent unusually sound and suggestive piece of
sociological thinking, _Community_, by Mr. R. M. Maciver, contains a
most timely chapter on "Co-ordination of Community." In the course of
his study of the way the principle of association and common action is
extended, the author observes:
Whether the ideal of nationality grows stronger or weaker in
the future, the fact of nationality ... will always remain....
Understanding the service and limits of nationality, we are
now in a position to consider how nations both are and can be
co-ordinated within the wider community which they build. Such
co-ordination can be directly achieved only through the State,
which is the primary association corresponding to the
nation.... It is true that the limits of nations and States
are still far from being coincident, but the great historical
movements have been leading towards that ideal. In any case it
must be the co-operation of States, whether they do or do not
coincide with nations, which will bring order into the still
existing chaos of the nations.
In the period following the war, the necessity will be greater than ever
before that the government of the United States shall be able to deal
with intricate and far reaching problems with intelligence, unity,
harmony, and force. This can be done only through an electorate that is
intelligent, homogeneous, sympathetic, and free from divisions into
antagonistic or incongruous groups.
An extreme but significant illustration of this principle is furnished
by the present situation in Russia. If a general truce were declared
tomorrow, and the nations sought to get together to discuss a permanent
basis of settlement, one of the greatest obstacles in the way of success
would be Russia, simply for the reason that at present there is no
Russia in the sense that a nation must exist to participate in such a
council as that supposed. There is no danger that the United States will
fall into any such state of disruption as Russia. But there is a
distinct danger that it may suffer from a lesser degree of the same
malady, the existence of discordant elements in the body politic, and
consequent inability to exert her maximum force in attacking the
problems of reconstruction.
The period following the war will be a time for new things. Easier than
ever before will it be to shake off the trammels of tradition and
precedent, and inaugurate approved though novel political policies.
Foremost among the matters which the United States will be called upon
to see to will be the reconsideration of our entire attitude toward
aliens, and their naturalization. The time to prepare for that
reconsideration is now.
WAR PROPHETS
The war is generating prophets as the Nile generated frogs under the
mandate of Moses, and there is a similarity in the speech of both
products. The prophets are too cautious to risk their reputation in
predicting the events of the war; their forecasts relate to the sort of
a world we shall find ourselves in after peace returns. But even this
measure of prediction is a by-product of the soothsayers who, whether
their lips have been touched with a coal from off the altar, or not,
certainly wield the pen of the ready writer. The main industry of the
busy prophets is to expound to us the meaning of the war, and to
disclose to us those causes of the war which we should never have
discovered for ourselves.
The ordinary uninspired man feels when he has read the diplomatic
correspondence of a couple of weeks at the end of July and the beginning
of August, 1914, that he knows fairly well what were the immediate
causes of the war, and where the responsibility lies. If he carries his
reading back as far as the annexation of Bosnia in 1908, he is satisfied
that he has a pretty comprehensive view of the forces that precipitated
the war. And if he has read pretty abundant selections from the
Pan-German literature and the panegyrics on war--such a literature as no
branch of the human race, Christian or pagan, ever produced before--he
thinks he understands how it was possible to plunge the German nation
into this attack on the world.
But all this is merely a matter of reading and reflection. Any one can
reach such conclusions. The prophet must reach some different conclusion
in order to sustain his claim to inspiration:
If this young man expresses himself in terms too deep for me,
Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man must be.
The prophet has got to attribute the war to causes that would not have
occurred to the common mortal, and see in it meanings that ordinary eyes
cannot trace, or abdicate his tripod.
It is equally unreasonable and equally immoral to say that the war
proves that Christianity is a failure, and to say that it proves
Christianity has never been tried. Because if either of these hypotheses
be correct, one set of belligerents is as deep in the mud as the other
is in the mire, and there is no personal culpability for this war, and
no national culpability either. We are all guilty of not being
Christians, or all unfortunate in having grown up in ignorance of
revelation, and beyond that there is no blame for the war.
If this war is not the result of certain perfectly well known
individuals using their own nations for an attack on others, but is the
result of impersonal enmity between Teuton and Slav, then no person or
persons are responsible for the war, there is no more blame on one side
than there is on the other, and the moral element is as lacking as it is
in an encounter between the inhabitants of the jungle. It is a curious
thing that the prophet assumes the role of a moral censor, and devotes
much the greater part of his energies to confusing the moral issues, to
obliterating moral distinctions, and to blunting the ethical sense.
To condemn all war, which is a congenial theme for a moralist, is rank
immorality; for it puts the nation that attacks, and the nation that
repels the invader, in the same category, and refuses to make any
distinction between the burglar, the householder who resists him, and
the policeman who overpowers him and drags him away to jail.
The prophet readily drops his eye on armies, and at once announces that
it is their existence that accounts for the war. If there were no armies
there would possibly be no wars, but we have shown more than once that
armies can be pretty rapidly extemporized. Besides, this, too, confuses
the moral issues. All nations have armies, and if America and England
had relatively small armies before this war, they had the largest navy
in the world and the navy which ranked second or third. The highwayman
carries a pistol, and so does the paymaster who is obliged to transport
a treasure chest. If the possession of a revolver was the cause of the
homicide that occurred, the guilt lies equally on the souls of both.
We are told that no truth is more certain than that "if you create a
vast fighting machine it will sooner or later compel you to fight,
whether you want to fight or not"--which is about as dubious a truth as
was ever paraded as an axiom--that "these vast machines, whether armies
or engines of war, are made to be used," and that "the military machine
will overpower the minds which have called it into being." Then their
responsibility is not for the ensuing war, but for carelessness in
leaving a war weapon around. But if these vast military machines were
made to be used, then why complicate the question of responsibility by
representing the machine as overpowering its careless but really
peaceful creator, and compelling him to fight whether he wants to fight
or not?
If the Kaiser and the Crown Prince and the General Staff and the
military caste and the Pan-German element created the army to use
against other nations, in accordance with Bernhardi's alternative of
"world domination or decline," and if all the professors and preachers
and pamphleteers had taught the people that war was a high, holy, and
beautiful thing, and--more particularly--that Germany could beat any
other nation in a few weeks, and the armies would return loaded down
with spoils and indemnities and title deeds to new provinces, and that
"our good old German God" had specially deputized the German nation to
overpower all the rest of the world, make German the universal tongue,
and the primitive moral code of Germany the ethical law of the world,
then we know precisely who is guilty of this war. But if the German army
compelled the German Government to back Austria in an attack on Servia,
and on its own account to invade Russia, Belgium and France, we are very
much at sea about the place where the moral burden is to be laid.
* * * * *
The prophet is particularly prone to find the causes of the war in a
material civilization, in our existing industrial system, and especially
in greed. The prophet and the political orator are equally stern in
their denunciation of greed. At a time when prophets were so accustomed
to physical exercise that they could run ahead of Ahab's chariot, and in
the absence of normal sources of supply, were fed by the ravens, their
indignation at greed, their contempt for commerce, and their superiority
to a material civilization, was free from incongruity. The modern
prophet does not live on locusts and wild honey, nor is his wardrobe
limited to a belt of camel's hair. His uncompromising denunciation of
his age is somewhat impaired by the obvious fact that he has "some of
the pork."
The deliverances of the prophet on this class of themes are rather
tiresome in their iteration, and distinctly irritating in their oblivion
to history. There is no civilization that does not rest upon the
possession and acquisition of property; there is no clime or time in
which men have not worked for their living, and sought the means of
buying the things which their tastes, coarse or refined, craved, in
which there have not been rich and poor, and in which it has not been
much pleasanter to be the former than the latter. The earliest social
satirist, like the latest, berated the accursed greed for gold, and
castigated his contemporaries for their love of luxury and their eager
pursuit of money. It would seem as if the prophet might recognize that
it is a very old sermon he is preaching, and familiarize himself with
the extraordinary age of those evils of his own day which he feels it
his mission to chastise.
What distinguishes this age from others, and our own country from others
is that here and now wealth is acquired more easily and more rapidly
than at other times and places. This being the very obvious fact, it
shakes our confidence in the whole fraternity of prophets that they
should, one and all, attribute the larger fortunes made here and now to
the greater love of money, or its more assiduous pursuit. The rich man
is more successful in amassing wealth than the poor man, but he is not
more mercenary. Two men try equally hard to get rich; one succeeds, and
the other fails; the man who failed is quite likely to be more eager for
money than the man who succeeded.
The industrial system never meets the approval of the prophet. An
occasional prediction is that the war will destroy our deplorable
economic life, in which every man is trying to get as high wages or as
large a salary or as ample profits as possible, and will usher in the
golden age, in which such base considerations as pecuniary compensation
will have a very secondary place in every man's mind. Before this war
came, the most eminent educator in America assured the workingman that
he ought to work for the pleasure of it, and not for the contents of his
Saturday night envelope. Such admonitions have occurred, in one form or
another, in the literature of the sages, for centuries and millenniums.
But it was never evolved by a man who was digging postholes, and a noble
ambition to mine the very best coal cannot carry a miner far when he is
obliged to cut such coal as there is in front of him.
It is barely possible that by devoting some weeks to the task, a man
could produce a pair of shoes notably superior to the ordinary run of
shoes, and his professional pride as a devout follower of St. Crispin
might take keen delight in the work of his hands; in the fact that he
had made the very finest pair of shoes in the world. But, after all, he
needs food, and possibly he is obliged to pay rent, and he ought to have
a wife to make comfortable, and children to send to school in
presentable form: so something besides pride in his work is necessary.
If he is to be adequately compensated for his labor on that pair of
shoes, their price will be such that only the rich--if the rich are to
be permitted to survive--can buy them; and if such shoemakers prevail,
the greater part of mankind will go barefoot. For does not the prophet
who has poured out the phials of his wrath upon an economic system that
makes quantity and cheapness, instead of real excellence, its ideals,
recognize that the purpose of quantity is to supply the wants of a
greater number of human beings, and the purpose of cheapness is to
enable human beings to supply more of their needs? For certainly if the
shoes which are the very best shoes in the whole world, and whose
excellence affords the keenest satisfaction to the soul of the
shoemaker, cost $50, then it is quite certain that the customer who
carries them home will go without many other things that he ought to
have. If the shoes are made by machinery and sold for $3, they may not
be quite so beautiful or durable as the artistic product of hand labor,
regardless of time, and yet be in the interest of the customer and the
community.
After the prophet has got through with his ravings at the present
industrial system, the fact will remain that there are a good many
millions of us on this earth, and that we have got to earn our livings,
and that the agriculture and industries of the Middle Ages would not
keep all of us alive. In addition to which, we may also venture to
suggest that the people of the Middle Ages were not quite as honest as
we are, and were not less particular about getting a financial return
for their exertions. The modern industrial system was not created by
capital for capitalists; it is the result of the efforts of the
community as a whole to supply the needs of all of its members, and to
afford employment to all of them. Hunting and fishing are pleasanter
than most of the industries, but 100,000,000 of civilized people are
living and are equipped with intellectual and moral accessories, where a
quarter of a million Indians once roamed. And although they toiled not
(systematically), neither did they spin (much), they were not happier or
better than we are.
One prophet of more discrimination than most of his clan admits that the
industry and thrift which produce capital are valuable qualities
morally, but he is still confident that the great wealth of the modern
world is thoroughly demoralizing. Whence it appears that the safe course
for the world to pursue is to work hard and save carefully and burn up
its accumulations every year in order to keep itself poor but pious,
like the parents of the subjects of a style of religious biography now
quite out of date. Of course this prophet would prefer the wiser course
of not earning enough to afford wealth to accumulate. If we would only
adopt his system and work for the pleasure of working, and for the
satisfaction of producing absolutely perfect products of our own skill,
there would be no danger of our sinking our souls into perdition with a
load of gold. Noah and his sons appear to have built the Ark by the
processes of domestic industry, in distinction from the accursed factory
or capitalist system. How their support was provided for during the 120
years has not been recorded, but if one man undertook to build a
locomotive, instead of merely making repetitions of a single part, it
would be necessary to make arrangement for this. And when we are trying
to replace the vessels destroyed by German submarines, it seems
necessary to use more rapid methods of construction than sufficed before
the Deluge.
Will some prophet please tell us how poor we must be in order to be
virtuous and pacific, and how virtuous and pacific the world was before
it became prosperous? Were there no wars before the Twentieth Century?
The extent of this war is scarcely a result of the world's opulence,
when Sir Edward, now Viscount, Grey, offered to keep England out of it
if Germany would limit the war to the Balkans or to Russia. The war has
involved most of the world because Germany began it by attacking France
and Belgium, and followed that up by attacking Americans on the high
seas, where they had as much right to be as at home.
This argument that the war is the result of wealth is immoral, because
it makes the guilt of America and England even greater than that of
Germany (for they are richer); and because it is the argument of the
communist--that theft is not wrong, because it is the inevitable
consequence of private property: if no one has any right to anything,
then no one will steal anything.
* * * * *
Nothing holds the attention of the prophet better than the idea that the
war is the result of commercial competition. This also is an invention
of the devil to exculpate Germany. All of us are in business for gain;
we are actuated by greed; we are making cotton cloth to cover Africans
for the profit that we can get out of it; we ought to think only of
clothing the naked, and if we would only give the cotton cloth to the
Hottentots without material return, we should have the proud
satisfaction of seeing them draped in chintzes, and we should be safe
from that wealth which is so certain to make us wicked. On those terms
there would be very little competition in supplying the Hottentots, and
no danger whatever that any nation would fight us to gain that portion
of the export trade.
But the "peaceful penetration" of all other countries by German industry
and commerce had been going on for thirty years before the war. England
had stamped "Made in Germany" upon the imports from that country under
the delusion that people would not buy them if they knew they were not
made by domestic industry, but the only result was to advertise German
business. Shipping interests at Antwerp, factories in France, hotels in
Switzerland, iron works in Italy, commercial establishments in China and
South America, the trade and transportation of Turkey, passed into
German hands, and no nation offered armed resistance. No less a witness
than Prince von Buelow testifies that England could easily have stopped
German naval expansion, but did not do so. German commercial expansion
did not cause the war, unless Great Britain, the principal sufferer from
German business success, attacked Germany in 1914. And this is the
German official explanation of the war supplied for domestic
consumption. And yet it is repudiated by the highest witness who could
be put upon the stand. No less a person than Prince Lichnowsky, who was
German Ambassador in London at the outbreak of the war, traces the war
to Austrian projects in the Balkans, with the "blank check" of Germany,
together with irritation in Russia caused by Germany's own efforts to
establish a dominating influence in Constantinople. This leaves nothing
of the story invented for the German people, and propagated by the
university professors, that England attacked Germany because the latter
was getting its trade away from it. And this falsehood, invented to
shield the guilty nation, has a special fascination for the prophets. It
looks so much like taking a broad and general and impartial view of the
world. Satan is very liberal; it pains him to have guilt attached to any
individual. It is more in accord with his philosophic and humane ideas
to regard crime as a product of social conditions, and war as the result
of trade competition.
* * * * *
But the guilt of Germany is betrayed by the selection by Germans of Sir
Edward Grey as the especial subject of hatred among all the hated
British race. Nothing but the consciousness of guilt can explain the
extraordinary vituperation of the British Minister who did in 1914
precisely what he was highly praised for doing in 1913 in a speech in
the Reichstag by Chancellor von Bethmann-Hollweg. That was the speech
calling on the Reichstag for an increase of about 136,000 men in the
German army, an addition of $50,000,000 a year to the military budget,
and a non-recurring capital tax for military purposes of $250,000,000.
The difference between 1913 and 1914 was not in anything that Sir Edward
did, but in the fact that before the army increase of 1913 Germany was
not prepared for war and supported Sir Edward's efforts for peace. After
that increase Germany was prepared for war, and would do nothing to
support Sir Edward's efforts to avert war, and the coarse abuse of Sir
Edward is a "smoke box" designed to conceal the changed position of
Germany.
Dr. von Jagow, Foreign Minister from 1913 to 1916, has been put forward
to reply to Prince Lichnowsky, but agrees with the Prince that England
did not desire war, and that Sir Edward Grey, who is described by a
German divine as having "a cancerous tumor in place of a heart," acted
in good faith in his efforts to find a peaceful solution for the
difficulty. One American writer finds the origin of the war in the rival
interests of Germany and England in the Bagdad Railway, but Dr. Paul
Rohrbach, now or recently of the German Colonial Office, has admitted
that just before the war opened the interests of the two nations were
settled by a treaty, in which England made surprisingly large
concessions. This is also stated by Prince Lichnowsky. So that the
testimony of three particularly eminent Germans destroys the fiction
that England attacked Germany because it was jealous of German
commercial expansion.
The fundamental trouble with the whole race of war prophets is that they
think the war is a new thing, and they feel called upon to tell the rest
of us what to make of it. War is about the oldest human industry. This
is the greatest of all wars, but that does not alter the meaning of war.
Nor does it necessarily alter the results of war. While it is the
greatest of all wars, it is not yet a long war, and in proportion to the
population it is not certain that it is greater than other wars. It is
not even certain that in proportion to the men involved, it is more
bloody than other wars. We have no means of getting at the figures
except in the loosest way, because the several Governments do not tell
how many men they have at any given time or place, or the casualties in
any individual engagements. But some approximations have been made, and
they do not indicate that the great war is decidedly more bloody, in
proportion to the armies, than other wars have been. Our Civil War
lasted full four years; the War of Independence occupied seven. Before
that was the seven years of the French and Indian war, and one war is
known as the Thirty Years War. From the beginning of the French
Revolution to Waterloo was more than quarter of a century, and at the
end of that period another Bourbon was on the throne of France. Our
Civil War made nearly, if not quite, as heavy a draft upon the
population as the present war has made upon the population of England or
France.
The moral and religious questions involved in war are not notably
different in the greatest of all wars and in wars which are not quite so
great. Most of them are involved in the ordinary administration of the
criminal law by which an orderly community protects itself from its
predatory members. Doubtless there will be social and political results
from this war, but if other wars have not created a new heaven and a new
earth, why should this one? The prediction that this war will produce
great changes in the direction of democracy and of applied religion are
probably well founded. But the war will act only as an accelerator.
These changes have been going on for a long time; the movements for
fifteen or twenty years before the war opened were very evident. Woman
suffrage and prohibition seem impending, but they are not the products
of this war: they had made great progress between 1900 and 1914.
None of the prophets betray any knowledge of history, or see things in
any perspective. The great war is the first great cataclysm that they
seem to be aware of, and they are rushing to and fro, like the
Chaldeans, to find explanations of it, and to impress the public by
their ability to forecast its consequences.
But when peace comes it will leave us face to face with greed and
materialism, and an industrial system in which some men prosper and
others do not, and an obligation to labor from which no important
fraction of mankind can escape, and wants will multiply as fast as the
means of satisfying them increase, and for the greater part of us the
weekly pay envelope and the possibilities of a competence, and the
demand from the other side of the world for the grain we produce, will
continue to be our principal incentives to work.
Progress, intellectual and moral as well as material, has been made in
the past, but the world has not taken great leaps ahead as the result of
great wars, and still less has it changed the direction of its movement
as the result of wars. The one thing of which the vastness of this war
gives us a fairly good assurance, is that no nation will again be
trained from infancy to old age to regard war as a high, holy and
beautiful process of attaining its manifest destiny to rule the rest of
mankind. For generations no statesman will purpose a war, and no monarch
will again have the power of hurling his people at neighboring nations.
If Germany fails in its present effort, neither Germany nor any other
nation will repeat the experiment of 1914.
But the prophets will have no chance to point with pride to the great
religious, moral and economic revolutions whose advent they pointed out
amid the clash of arms. We have found our soul, the prophets love to
tell us. They disagree on some things, and those who have no revelation
upbraid the others for not giving us a spiritual interpretation and
getting a vision of the future from the carnage of the war, as the
augurs pretended to see the future when they were only looking at the
viscera of their victims. But all of them agree that we have found our
soul. When did we lose our soul? When Mr. Roosevelt was President he was
very apprehensive that we had lost our "fighting edge." Is any one
worried now about our lack of a "fighting edge?" Possibly our soul was
never lost. We betrayed some evidences of possessing a soul very early
in the war.
The charge that we had lost our soul, or, at least, had mislaid it,
rests on two facts. One is that we are prosperous. That fatal
alliteration of poverty and piety has a fearful hold upon the soul of
the prophet. The other is that we did not go to the rescue of Belgium
when it was invaded. But Mr. Roosevelt himself did not realize that we
ought to have gone to the rescue of Belgium, till March, 1916. He is on
record in September, 1914, as satisfied with the course of the
Administration, and convinced that we should not have entered the war
when our own interests were not touched. And it ought to be forgiven a
statesman, if he is very reluctant to plunge his country into war, and
declines to put his Government in the position of a knight errant,
wandering around the world in search of maidens to be delivered from
donjons. And furthermore, as the Monroe Doctrine is the corner stone of
our foreign policy, we were properly slow about intruding into a
European quarrel, until it became unmistakable that it was much more
than a European quarrel--that it was an attack upon civilization and
popular Government. We were also justified in assuming that Great
Britain, France and Russia, three of the five guarantors of Belgian
neutrality, were capable of punishing the two guarantors who violated
their pledge, several times renewed by Germany, even up to the day
before Germany invaded the country it had pledged its honor to protect.
But our soul, whether it was lost or not, is now in our possession. Let
us be thankful that the prophets recognize that encouraging fact. And if
our mind is also in our possession, we may look forward to a world not
entirely different from the one we have known, but unquestionably less
likely to play with firearms, and quite certainly one in which the
common people will have much greater control of their political
destinies, and one in which no War Lord, with chatter about shining
swords and shining armor and mailed fists, will be able to hurl his
nation against the others in a desperate effort to establish for himself
an overlordship of the world. Nor will any nation ever be likely to
rhapsodize over carnage, and feed its sordid soul with thoughts of the
territories and indemnities to be got by war, or intoxicate itself with
the delusion that it is a race of supermen charged by the Almighty with
the duty of forcing its harsh language and its brutal habits upon all
other nations.
MY FRIEND THE JAY
"Every man who comes into the world has need of friends." What Ursa
Major thus profoundly observes of mankind, from China to Peru, might be
applied with special force to the blue jay, at least to those jays that
come into the world. Of the rest "deponent saith not." For by common
consent the blue jay is a rascal, nay even a villain; and to deepen his
turpitude to an infinity of wickedness, I have heard one uncherished
female with a disposition slightly acid liken him to a Man. Indeed, were
some of his detractors to be believed, there is scarcely a crime in the
whole avian calendar that has not been meditated upon and hatched in his
nest.
It is true that there are people of such impinging personality that
merely mild dislike with respect to them seems impossible. The reactions
they produce are violent. Their admirers, when they have any, pursue
their loyalty to an _O Altitudo!_ their enemies (and such are usually
legion) make of their names a hissing, and spit them out of the mouth.
To particularize, I might refer to a gentleman who was vigorously active
in the political unpleasantness of 1912. His friends saw in him a
Godefroy, come to lead the politically pure against the hordes of the
standpat infidels; his enemies, when they had wiped the froth from their
lips, turned the vocabulary of prayer to evil uses, and accused him of
being in league with the devil.
But these are merely individuals. The cases in which an indictment is
drawn up against a whole people are comparatively rare,--the Goths,
perhaps, the Turks, and the bloodthirsty Belgians, to bring it down to
modern times, will serve as examples. Just such an inclusive indictment
is brought against the jay. "I fear," says one amiable and authoritative
writer on bird life, "that the blue jay is a reprobate"; and in this
opinion most authorities concur. Are there not, then, three righteous
jays in all Israel? No, say his judges. Peradventure one? "Only in the
museums of natural history," they inexorably answer. All living jays are
impudent, profane, mischievous, cannibalistic, "the hul cussed tribe of
'em," as one exasperated gardener wrathfully declared to me.
Dear, dear! This is a terrible situation. Like Fuzzy Wuzzy, the poor
blue jay "'asn't got no papers of his own." Nor can he follow the
example of those benevolent corporations whose judicious investments in
advertising space temper the unshorn lamb to receive the shears in a
docile mood, and at the same time protect them from too close scrutiny
by the newspapers. He must bear the slings and air-guns of outrageous
boyhood with scarcely a voice raised in his behalf. It seems hardly
fair.
It is true that the jay is not delicate in his appetite. He cannot, like
the ethereal maiden whom Burton mentions, subsist for months on the
smell of a rose. I knew one old gentleman, to be sure, who secured a
brief respite from care, and achieved a state of mild hilarity, by
applying his nose to the mouth of a whiskey jug. But the jay enjoys not
these olfactive refections. He needs more substantial food. He is
omnivorous; and out of that important characteristic springs his most
reprehensible trait: he eats little birds.
One morning last summer I got up rather earlier than usual to transplant
some asters before the sun should come out hot. It was a calm,
breezeless morning, with scarcely a sound to disturb the cool quietude,
except the song of a robin on the top of the old maple. Heaven be
praised! we have no trolley cars in our village, and no factories.
Suddenly there broke out in the alley, the wildest commotion imaginable.
It sounded as though the sparrows from five counties were there, and had
eaten of the insane root. The air was filled with shrill cries, chirps,
and excited chatterings. I rushed to the fence, my fingers all mud, and
looked over. In the midst of a flock of sparrows forty or more in
number, all hopping about distractedly but none daring to attack him,
stood a big blue jay with his crest militantly erect. From time to time
he pecked at something, but what that something was, like Peterkin, I
could not well make out. At every stroke of his strong black beak the
cries of the sparrows shrilled louder; whenever he paused and looked
around in his truculent contempt, their frenzied crescendos somewhat
abated.
Curious, I drew nearer and discovered that the object of his unpleasant
attention was a young sparrow, a mere fledgeling, scarcely old enough to
be out of the nest. He was murderously pecking it in the eye. The wee
helpless thing fluttered weakly in its agony and cheeped piteously. I
grabbed up an empty fruit jar that had protected a rose cutting from the
blasts of winter, and hurled it at the jay. He flew screaming to a sour
cherry tree a short distance away, from which safe vantage point he
cursed me with every oath and revilement in his scandalous vocabulary.
The little sparrow I put out of its misery.
As I went back to my asters, I could not help reflecting on the scene I
had witnessed. I seemed to see in it a small counterpart of what had
happened in Europe. Here was little Servia in the person of this young
sparrow--something of a nuisance, perhaps, yet comparatively
defenseless. And here in the arrogant, domineering jay, relentless and
powerful, was Austria. A similitude might likewise be made out for
Belgium and Germany. And where, I wondered, did my own country come in?
With almost sinister significance a sleek bronze grackle, plump and
round, his eyes standing out with fatness, emerged leisurely from among
the currant bushes and gobbled up a worm. I had been vaguely aware of
his presence from the first, and now as I noted his well-fed
complacency, and remembered that he had been foraging around utterly
oblivious of the little tragedy being enacted in the alley, I lost my
patience and let fly a good-sized clod.
But jays are jays, and it were unfair to demand from them a standard of
conduct that even human beings, with all their centuries of moral
education, find it hard to apply. As a matter of fact the only jay I
ever caught red-beaked at such murderous work was the one in the alley,
and my field of observation has extended clear from the coast of Maine
part way to the Rocky Mountains. Yet if a man from Mars were to pick up
a bundle of newspapers, and could make out the strange little characters
imprinted thereon, he would probably infer that murder was a trade
common enough among human beings, particularly to-day. He would see it
as a highly organized and severely technical activity carried on by
whole nations under the direction of their respective governments. It
must be said, however, that although the sensitive nerve of national
honor seems oftenest to reside in the national belly, nations rarely
murder with the object of eating their victims. And those jays that
murder are censurable chiefly in this: they have learned so little from
humanity's civilized forbearance.
* * * * *
To tell the truth, the jay is not the fiercely courageous and militantly
aggressive biped his harsh cries and erected crest might lead one to
suppose. His aspect is doubtless frightful to some small birds, but most
of them recognize in him much of the Pistolian braggart. I have seen a
house-wren, about the size of a large colored gentleman's thumb, drive
him away from her vine-shaded dwelling. Robins quickly put him to
flight, and so, too, do catbirds and cardinals. Even the mourning dove
(gentlest of birds) does not fear to measure her mild weapons with his;
and one of the most amusing spectacles I ever witnessed was the comical
bluff of a dove who puffed out her breast, fierce as a lamb, and
literally pushed the swash-buckling blue jay clean off the feed board.
That the jay does not always exercise the discretion of which the timid
proverb speaks, the crown of my head can very well testify. One pleasant
afternoon, while I was breathlessly pursuing the phantom of an idea
through the syntactical mazes of a freshman theme, I became aware of the
sharp screaming of a pair of jays directly beneath my open window. I
glanced out and saw (item) one baby jay squatting all hunched up on the
close-cut lawn in the sunlight; (item) one long, lithe, black cat in the
shadow of the syringa bush, blinking its greedy yellow eyes and moving
its tail with a gentle, snaky, anticipatory motion; and (item) two
frantic parent jays darting viciously at the black sphinx, and shrieking
like a couple of suffragettes in the hands of a pair of miserable London
bobbies. I watched the little drama until I saw the cat quivering for
the spring; whereupon, forsaking the role of spectator, I threw my
bottle of red ink and drove the dark marauder from the field. Surely
never was preceptorial red ink put to more humane uses.
As I turned back to my themes, it occurred to me that here was the very
opportunity I had been looking for. My favorite hobby is taking bird
pictures, and I had long desired a picture of a young jay. Most
fledgelings bear a ludicrous likeness to very old men. They wear an
expression of solemn and pessimistic wisdom such as comes only to those
who have looked long on the vanities of mankind. And it has always
seemed to me that the infant jay bears a weird resemblance to England's
Grand Old Man, Mr. Gladstone, after he had passed the prime of old age.
Out of regard, then, for the great Liberal minister, and also because I
am no rifler of nests, I seized my old black hat and a camera, and
dashed downstairs. My plan was to drop the hat over the unsuspecting
fledgeling so that I could pick him up without any fuss, and pose him on
the grape-vine behind the house. But the young rascal, divining my
intention, hopped away, and kept with exasperating nicety just out of
reach. Finally, by dint of much scrambling along on my knees, taking
care to preserve as innocent an expression as I could, I managed to clap
the hat over him. But as I took him out from the sudden gloom, he gave
one terrified shriek, and the next instant BING! something sharp,
something penetrating, something entirely unexpected, struck me on the
head. It was the marvellously efficient beak of Mr. Jay.
I did not try to reason with him or placate him in wheedling tones. The
ambient air was too full of a shrapnel burst of screaming, darting,
pecking, whirling, shrieking blue jay. His shrill and angry cries,
moreover, called to his aid three other jays, and such a stream of
feathered Billingsgate followed as, I felt sure, must fix the eyes of
all the neighborhood upon me. And so I retreated to the house,
endeavoring in my gait to preserve that dignity of bearing which is
generally supposed to be the fruit of an academic life. But the jay,
with the uncomfortable persistence of a bee or a small heel-snapping
terrier, pursued me to the very door, and might have chased me upstairs
had it not been for the screen. After that I decided never again to
attempt kidnapping a jay without the protection of a policeman's helmet.
But the fierce detractors of the blue jay will doubtless scoff at this
as evidence of a sometimes resolute daring. I do not resent the implied
aspersion of my own courage; I am content to leave that to the judgment
of my readers. There is, however, one bit of commendation to which even
they must "assent with civil ear," as a freshman of mine put it. The
blue jay is almost humanly intelligent. Mind, I do not argue that he
can, offhand, give you the distinction between free verse and a page
from a real poet's note-book, or that he can explain precisely why
certain matters are deleted by the British censors. But with the
intrepidity of a new Congressman delivering a speech in the _Record_, I
dare assert, "without fear of _successful_ contradiction," that the blue
jay is among the most intelligent of feathered bipeds.
Not long ago, during a particularly sharp attack of bitter weather, with
frosty bayonets in the air but no snow on the ground, I was holding a
conference in the English office with one of my students, a girl whose
sweet deep eyes gave no flicker of understanding as I tried to make
clear to her the difference between a sentence and a clause. To conceal
my sorrow I stepped to the window and gazed off through the grayish-blue
beeches with their dead brown leaves shivering in the keen air, trying,
meanwhile, to recall what principle of pedagogic efficiency I had failed
to employ. Presently a blue jay with something white in its beak
alighted upon the twisted limb of a maple not a rod from the window, and
began a close inspection of the rough bark. He found what he was looking
for, a hole; and into this he thrust the white substance which he
carried in his beak, suet possibly, from the feed-board below, or a bit
of bread. He cocked his head on one side and eyed the little cache in a
thoughtful manner. Then he dropped to the ground.
I thought that was the end, but I was mistaken. Soon he shot up to the
limb, this time with a dead leaf in his beak. I watched intently and saw
him carefully lay the leaf over the hole where he had hidden the suet. A
gust of wind, however, blew the leaf off the limb, and sent it swirling
to the ground. Quick as a hawk the jay swooped after it in an
ineffectual attempt to capture it while it was still in the air. They
reached the ground together. Convinced apparently that the leaf was too
large, he selected another, much smaller, and carried it up to the limb.
This time he did not merely lay the leaf over the hole; he had learned
his lesson. Instead, he rammed the leaf into the hole on top of the
suet, a really difficult job, and packed it firmly with his beak. It was
safe from the other jays if not from the inquisitive redheaded
woodpecker who lived only a few branches away. Now all you host of
cocksure psychologists, was it instinct or reason that led the jay?
I know it has been argued that since a jay will attack a stuffed owl
placed near his nest, he must be without the power of reason. The test
seems hardly fair, for the ghoulish mystery of the taxidermist is known
to no animal but man. Thus at the very start the jay is laid under an
unreasonable handicap. Consider, too, the ingeniously cruel nature of
this test; it pierces him as it were in the eye of his most sensitive
instinct. Even human parents, faced by an ordeal at all comparable to
this in sudden poignancy, would scarcely act in a manner calmly
rational. What mother, leaving her infant slumbering in the cradle, and
suddenly returning to find a brutal visaged mannikin bent over it in a
posture of menace, would expend the millionth of a second in the
psychologist's reflective delay? Like the jay, she would act in such a
situation from instinct alone, nor would we consider her deficient in
intelligence.
But even if the jay were as stupid as an old-model political
prison-warden, or an English official in Ireland, which he indubitably
is not, I would still look upon him with an indulgent eye. The redbird
excepted, he is the sole bit of lively color in our winter landscape. No
matter how sharp the wind or deep the snow, you will find him foraging
among the low bushes or uttering his cheerfully vigorous _jay! jay!
jay!_ from the airy chambers of some tall, bare maple. And if you are of
that generous company who share their winter bounty with the birds, from
none of your feathered charity scholars will you receive more evident
tokens of full appreciation than from the maligned jay. He is as prompt
to the feeding board as an impecunious college professor to the bursar's
office at the end of the first quarter. To be sure, his table manners
are somewhat rude, but what he lacks in elegance he more than atones for
with a certain robust beef-and-pudding gusto that I have somehow come to
associate with Lord Macaulay.
It is in the spring, however, in the days of warm sunshine and clear
air, when the grass begins to quicken along the walks and around the
roots of the big elm-trees, when the vanguard of the crocus legions have
thrust their green spear-heads up through the sere lawn, and the buds on
the lilac bushes along the garden fence have begun to swell, that the
jay reveals how really amiable he can be. To many who do not know him
well it will come as a surprise to learn that he possesses vocal
attainments far beyond the harsh cry from which he takes his name. Under
the spell of love he becomes truly melodic. He will sit for ten minutes
at a time in the old black cherry-tree, and beginning with a soft,
prelusory, ventriloquial whistle, as though he were a musician testing
his flute, he will run through a series of little musical snatches
surprising in their mimetic variety. Now it will seem like a baby's
silver rattle, or like clear water gurgling over a sunny bed of pebbles;
again you will hear a note or two of the robin, or a plaintive echo of
the bluebird's song, or even the beautiful sliding legato of the
cardinal,--with a crack in it, perhaps.
As the head of a family the blue jay is exemplary. He is not one of
those who think they perform the whole duty of husbands when they preen
their gay feathers in the sunlight, or lift their voices in flattering
song, while their plain little wives build the nest, hatch the eggs, and
go in search of the nourishing worm. Not much! He believes that marriage
is a partnership involving equal duties and responsibilities; and so,
during the nesting season, you will see him busily at work, searching
for the best twigs, paper, string, tendrils, and rootlets obtainable. I
once saw a nest that had a piece of yellow paper sticking out of its
side, with the cryptic legend--_otes for wom_--plainly legible on it,
but I am not sure that it had any real significance. Feeding the young
jays, too, he considers part of his fatherly duties, and sometimes,
though not often, he even treats Mrs. Jay to a specially delicate tidbit
of bug or worm. If the latter should happen to be fuzzy, he will follow
his careful wife's example and thoroughly wipe the fuzz off on the rough
bark of some tree.
And he likes his bath; no monocled Englishman better. Indeed, if you
really wish to enjoy a treat, set a rusty shallow pan of water on your
lawn, not _too_ near the tulip-bed or shrubbery (Cats!), and see what
follows. If you have been thoughtful enough to place a stone or a piece
of brick near the rim of the pan, Mr. and Mrs. Jay will step right in
and enjoy a thorough wetting without much preliminary skirmishing. But
little Willie Jay and his four brothers will exhibit all the delicious
trepidation of childhood. While their parents are in the bath, they will
be bold enough, even to running up and allowing themselves to be
splashed on; but when it comes to actually entering the water, ugh! They
will linger around the edge of the pan, fluttering their wings, hop
across it, dip their beaks into the water, turn around, and splash the
water with their tails--in short, go through all the motions of a small
boy having his first "duck under" without the assuring grasp of his
father's strong hand. But once let them get in, and oh, what a joyous
splashing ensues, what a ruffling of feathers, what a beating of wings,
what a fan-like fluttering of the tail! Like most small boys, too, they
will stay in until they are thoroughly soaked, scarcely able, in fact,
to fly up to some sunny limb where they may preen themselves and dry off
out of harm's reach.
No, the jay is not an unprincipled scoundrel, not the bloodthirsty
reprobate he is sometimes made out to be. He has his faults, it is true,
properly censurable; but he has some very commendable virtues as well.
And I am sure that if the reader will watch his career as carefully as I
have, from his fledgeling childhood to his gay and dashing cavalier
youth, he will agree with me that the imaginations of the blue jay's
heart are not wholly evil.
THE FLEMISH QUESTION
_Divide ut imperes_--make a faction among your enemies, and thus
overcome them. This is German policy all over the world. By it the Danes
of Slesvig have been to a large extent robbed of their own language and
national traditions. By it the Prussian intruders have, with
characteristic inability to understand foreign souls, endeavored, in
their periods of repose after acts of brutality, to alienate from France
the French-speaking and French-minded inhabitants of Alsace and
Lorraine. It has failed not only there, but notoriously also in Posen or
Prussian Poland, where it was long ago abandoned in favor of a system of
downright and unscrupulous repression. It has succeeded, for the moment
at least, in Russia, which now lies dismembered at the feet of a
triumphant betrayer. What was a year ago Russia is now dissolved into
Lithuania, Livonia, Esthonia, Courland, Finland, Poland, the Ukraine,
the country of the Don Cossacks, the Caucasus, and the vague and
fluctuating realm of Bolshevism. Historic memories, linguistic
variations, religious differences, local jealousies, class feeling, and
commercial rivalries have been emphasized by German agents behind the
frontier, and through the gaps thus made the German sword has pushed its
point, breaking up the old mortar of loyalty and union. One typical
example of the method employed may be cited here. According to the
Berlin _Lokal Anzeiger_ of March 26, 1917, Zimmermann, the German
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, our Zimmermann, welcomed a
delegation of Lithuanians and piped sweetly to them about the tender
interest his government took in the welfare of their people, promising
to satisfy various local desires. We have seen the result.
German intrigue of the same sort has long been at work in India, where
it has happily been baffled by the good sense of the Indian population
who appreciate the fact that with all their numerous languages, races,
and religions, they owe their concord to the light rule of Britain and
to her even-handed justice. One of the boldest, meanest, and cruelest
instances of the same policy of treacherous penetration was the effort
to cause a rebellion in Ireland, for the Germans knew that rebellion
meant the destruction of their own tools and Ireland's shame and ruin.
As Americans, we have reason to keep our eyes upon the large German
colonies in southern Brazil and upon the outposts of German imperialism
in Mexico, Chile, and Argentina, and still greater reason to look out
for the thin wedges of Prussian intrigue insinuating themselves among
our own many racial and confessional varieties.
The most thinly disguised of all German attempts to conquer by division
is also one of the latest to be disclosed, although it began at least
three years ago. "Love me," says the Kaiser to the outraged daughters of
the Belgian household; "or if you will not both love me, I shall take
the likelier of you, and give her a seat at the royal feast, and put my
ring upon her finger, and make her sister serve us in our mirth."
As is well known, there is no such thing as a Belgian language, and the
people of Belgium speak one or both of two languages, French and
Flemish. Both French and Flemish are and have long been officially
recognized by the Belgian government, and are used in Parliament, in
public documents, in the courts, and in the national schools. The French
spoken and written by educated Belgians is standard or central French,
differing in no essential respect from the language of France; but among
the people who have French as their native tongue, the Walloons, there
is employed a dialect of French, just as the people of many parts of
France, and indeed of all countries, have their local dialects. The
Walloons differ from the rest of the Belgians chiefly in language and in
the fact that they inhabit the southern and southeastern parts of the
kingdom, where mining and metallurgical industry are highly developed.
They also have more points of contact with France, both geographically
and morally. If you take a map of Belgium and draw a line from Vise, the
point where the Meuse passes into Holland, almost straight west through
Brussels, Audenarde, and Courtrai, or a little south of these cities,
you will have traced the northern boundary of the Walloon country.
Almost anywhere along this imaginary line, one can, by going a short
distance south, be among people who nearly all speak French or the
Walloon dialect of French, and, by going a little way north, be among
people who, though they may write French and speak it as an acquired
language, use Flemish as their native tongue. Nevertheless, in this
densely populated, busy, rich, and closely unified kingdom, the various
elements of the population were happily mingled. Thousands of Belgian
families are part Walloon and part Flemish. When a Walloon family moves
north into a Flemish village it usually changes its language in the
second generation, and vice versa. Many Walloons have Flemish names;
many Flemings have Walloon names.
Flemish is scarcely distinguishable from Dutch. Although philologically
they may be regarded as twin dialects of one tongue, they are for
practical purposes the same. There are, to be sure, a few slight
differences of idiom, and numerous differences of vocabulary, even
between standard written Flemish and standard written Dutch, but
scarcely more important than those between the English of Mr. Howells
and the English of Mr. Hardy. In popular speech the gap is naturally
wider, and perhaps justifies the view that Flemish and Dutch are
separate dialects of one language, though "dialect" may really be too
strong a word. From my own observation in East Flanders, I should say
that a Dutchman would be in about the same situation there with regard
to difference of speech as a New Englander in Virginia.
According to the census of 1910, there were in Belgium about 3,832,000
persons speaking French or belonging to French-speaking families, and
about 4,153,000 speaking Flemish or belonging to Flemish families. The
Flemish population, being to a larger extent agricultural, has for many
years been increasing faster than the Walloons. Yet French, being by
acquisition or second-nature a language perfectly familiar to all
educated Belgians, appears to have, and really has, an immense advantage
over Flemish. The literature of the French language is enriched and
glorified with the names of many great authors, from Jean Froissart and
Philippe de Comines to Maeterlinck and Verhaeren, who belong by birth or
residence to what we now call Belgium.
But the Flemish had, and probably always will have, a pride of their
own. In the Middle Ages their cities were among the first in Northern
Europe to emerge from obscurity. The names of Flemish towns strike the
ear with a strange ruggedness in the liquid lapse of Dante's lines, but
a stranger thing it is that even in the thirteenth century these
vigorous municipalities were looked to for independence, and called upon
for vengeance on tyranny; we hear, in the Purgatorio, of "the evil plant
that overshadows all the Christian land," and are told that "if Douai,
Lille, Ghent and Bruges had power, there would soon be vengeance taken."
A curious example this of "ancestral voices prophesying war."
In the sixteenth century Flanders was the scene of tragic resistance to
Spain and the Inquisition. Liberty was lost and recovered and lost
again; but prosperity still bloomed from the ashes of destroyed
commerce, the language and institutions of the land were redeemed with a
fearful price, civilization was preserved with blood and sorrow, art
flourished in the midst of horrors; and how all this came to pass is
explained only by the stubbornness with which the people kept up their
local patriotism. The visible signs of this municipal pride and glory
were, until four years ago, and in part still are, the great churches,
town-halls, and guild-houses of Flanders. Among the most impressive of
these monuments were the Cloth Hall at Ypres, the Belfry of Bruges, the
Town-halls of Audenarde, Alost, Termonde, Louvain, Brussels, and Ghent,
the Cathedrals of Antwerp and Malines, the quaint Beguinages or cities
of retirement for religious women, and many another less renowned but
hardly less beautiful expression of ancient faith and community of
enterprise.
The Austrian yoke was shaken off at the time of the French Revolution,
and after a short period of republican government Belgium, together with
France, came under the domination of Napoleon. At the Congress of
Vienna, in 1815, Belgium and Holland were united under the name of the
Kingdom of the Netherlands, in an ill-assorted combination which lasted
only till 1830, when the present Kingdom of Belgium was established.
From that year to 1914 the Flemish people of Belgium, though more than
satisfied to live in political union with the Walloons, and indeed being
the more prosperous and rapidly growing part of the population, were
solicitous to preserve their local customs and particularly their own
language. Societies were formed for the cultivation of Flemish
literature. Endowments for the same purpose were established. One of the
parliamentary aims of political parties in the provinces of East and
West Flanders and Antwerp and the northern sections of Brabant and
Limbourg was the safe-guarding of Flemish as one of the official
languages and a medium of instruction. There was not the slightest
flavor of disloyalty in this desire. It was entirely constitutional. It
expressed itself openly, and had no need for secrecy. The tendency thus
created was called the Flamingant movement. No one connected with it, so
far as I can discover, entertained the slightest notion of appealing to
Germany for countenance or support. The Flemings in general and the
Flamingants in particular would have been the last people in the world
to admit that their language was a dialect of _German_ or that their
manifest destiny was absorption in the German Empire. The unity of
Belgium was as precious to them as to the Walloons, and was placed above
every consideration of race and speech. But there is no country under
the sun in which local self-government and community interests are so
highly developed as in Belgium. Under the Belgian constitution the
communes enjoy the maximum of freedom. Civic pride nowhere else burns so
bright. It is the habit of local self-government, the strong
personalities developed under this system, and the spirit of the
communes that have saved Belgium from starvation during the war. As
every one of Mr. Hoover's American delegates in Belgium will testify,
the spectacle was and is magnificent. As early as October, 1914, when
the wave of invasion had passed over Belgium, the communes stood firm,
and in all of them committees with almost absolute power, and enjoying
the perfect confidence of the people, were formed and got to work
commandeering the visible supply of food and distributing it prudently.
Within a very short time after the invasion the Germans showed that they
intended to take advantage of the difference between Flemings and
Walloons, a difference which, as we have seen, was purely domestic, and
concerned with no really vital political issue. Among the offices of his
hated administration, Governor-General von Bissing established a bureau
for dealing with "the Flemish question," a bureau consisting of German
specialists in philology and discord. For about seven months, this
commission, which was working in secret, attracted hardly any attention.
Then it began to operate visibly. In the summer of 1915, I was
stationed, as delegate of the Hoover commission, in Ghent, the capital
of East Flanders, and witnessed the beginning of German coquetry. As may
be imagined, it was very clumsy and ineffectual. One day an attempt
would be made to flatter the local pride of the peasants by printing
official notices and war bulletins in Flemish and German only, instead
of Flemish, German, and French, as had previously been the practice; the
next day they would be informed, in these same posters, that they must
surrender their hay-crop to the German military authorities. The Germans
appeared to be as much detested in Flanders as anywhere else in Belgium.
I saw the wife of a distinguished citizen of Ghent burst into tears of
vexation and anxiety because a German officer of high rank spoke to her
in a restaurant. She said she feared she would be distrusted for the
rest of her life by her fellow-citizens for having listened to a German
officer. Yet he was evidently a gentleman, behaved with propriety, and
had the excuse for addressing her that he was quartered in her house. I
have known persons in Ghent to go willingly to prison rather than comply
with German rules or pay fines into the German treasury. "Do you see
that man?" said to me an acquaintance in Ghent one day, pointing to a
German in uniform who was speaking Flemish to some peasants. "He lived
here before the war; he will not be able to live here after the war; his
life will not be safe."
Before the war there were four universities in Belgium: the Catholic
university of Louvain, the liberal or non-sectarian university of
Brussels, and the two state universities of Liege and Ghent. The
instruction was given entirely in French, except that there were certain
courses at Louvain and Ghent which were paralleled, rather expensively,
one would think, by courses in Flemish. In 1911 a bill was introduced in
the Belgian Parliament looking to the gradual transformation of the
University of Ghent into an institution completely Flemish. In 1912 this
proposal was again discussed, and was reported favorably in the Chamber
of Representatives. The war of course put an end to the project.
Now the Germans have taken it up with enthusiasm, trying to harvest for
their own purposes the sympathies that were formerly cultivated in its
favor. Whether they annex all or part or none of Belgium, they desire to
pose as the liberators of Flanders, and to foment a permanent jealousy
between the Flemish-speaking people and the rest of the Belgian
population. This is precisely like their conduct in the south of
Ireland, in the Province of Quebec, and in Russia. They have their eye
on Antwerp, which they intend to keep, whatever happens, and they
realize that Flanders would be a good basis for the eventual absorption
of Holland.
On December 2, 1915, it became known in Belgium that the German
authorities purposed to reopen the University of Ghent, which of course
had been closed, and to make Flemish the language of instruction. Their
design was instantly understood by everybody, including the leaders of
the old Flamingant movement, who, instead of falling in with it, met it
with a vigorous protest. This was disregarded, and on the 31st of
December the decree was promulgated. A commission of German professors
was empowered to draw up regulations for carrying out the plan of
transformation. Meanwhile, in order to encourage as many Belgian young
men as possible to escape from the country and find their way into the
Belgian army, the real authorities of the four universities were keeping
these institutions closed. Their passive resistance enraged the Germans,
who, on March 18, 1916, arrested the two most celebrated professors of
Ghent, Henri Pirenne, and Paul Fredericq, eminent historians, and sent
them to prison-camps in Germany, where they have been treated with
disgusting brutality. The colleagues of these two brave men were not
less courageous themselves, and signed a second protest. Thereupon the
Germans made up a ridiculous little faculty of their own, and imposed it
upon the university, which, we must remember had no students. There were
at first seven of these professors, of whom one was a German, another a
native of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, and five were Belgians without
distinction in the learned world or respectability as citizens. To these
were later added a number of equally insignificant Dutch and German
teachers of minor rank, and a very few Belgians. Opinion in Holland rose
in disgust, and an unpleasant life awaits the Dutch instructors if they
ever dare return to the land of their birth. They have been canny enough
to make sure of pensions from the German government, in view of the
probability that they will in the near future be men without a country.
On April 5, 1916, the German Chancellor, making a curious mixture of
cynicism and hypocrisy, in a speech before the Reichstag, promised that
the Imperial Government would help the Flemish population to free itself
from "the preponderance of French culture." The Germans no doubt
expected some backing from the Flamingant societies, the trustees of the
Flemish endowment funds, and the former political supporters of the
Flemish movement. In this they have been disappointed, for their conduct
has aroused protest upon protest from all these quarters. It is
difficult to determine, from the boasts in the German newspapers and the
denials of exiled Belgians, just how many teachers and students had been
scraped together by the beginning of 1917, but the faculty was a motley
collection of German, Dutch and Belgian nonentities, and there were less
than three students for every teacher. To-day there is only one student
in agriculture, the subject that would naturally be most sought in a
Flemish university. Of all the war-babies, this University of Ghent is
surely the most anaemic. Yet if we are to believe General von Bissing in
the speech in which he declared it alive and viable, "The God of War
held it at the baptismal font with naked sword in hand!" This is _echt
Deutsch_ in taste and feeling. And while these proceedings were solemnly
going on, the deportation of workmen from Ghent was beginning; on the
very day of inauguration, husbands and fathers were being torn from
their families to suffocate in German salt-mines, to sweat and faint in
German collieries, to dig and die in German trenches. Has the world ever
seen a more revolting instance of hypocrisy? I happened to be in
Courtrai one morning when a number of Flemish wives and mothers were
herded into the jail there, from the village of Sweveghem, because their
men had refused to make barbed wire for the Germans. International law
forbids a conqueror to compel the vanquished to produce munitions of
war, but what of that!
Parallel with the ludicrous pretence of enriching Belgium with a
Germano-Flemish university, close observers of Belgian affairs, by
reading the Dutch and German newspapers, have watched the development of
another German scheme for producing discord. On February 14, 1917,
thirty Belgian tools of the German military authorities set themselves
up, or rather were set up by German backers, as a "Council of Flanders,"
with the avowed purpose of creating an autonomous state out of the
Flemish-speaking portion of Belgium. The plot began to culminate in
Baron von Bissing's decree of March 21, 1917, establishing two
administrative regions, one Flemish, the other Walloon. Brussels was to
be the capital of the former, Namur of the latter. This decree sent
consternation into the hearts of all true Belgians, and has led finally
to an ominous result, the resignation of nearly all the Belgian
judiciary. Up to this time, protected by international law and by the
national constitution, which even the Germans professed to respect, the
magistrates of Belgium had continued to perform some of their functions,
thereby shielding the people to a certain extent from direct contact
with German judges and police officers, and no doubt saving the country
from bloody and useless insurrections: for if the minute and daily
administration of local affairs, such as the collection of private debts
and the enforcement of town ordinances, had been all this time in German
hands, the irritation would have been unbearable.
With a few delightful exceptions, newspapers in Belgium, even though
appearing under their old names and in French, are controlled by the
Germans. I used to amuse myself, in 1915, by translating passages from
_Le Bruxellois_, ostensibly a real Belgian journal, back into the German
in which they were originally written or thought. The style betrayed a
Teutonic source. The delightful exceptions are the brave little
clandestine _Libre Belgique_ and other papers of a similar character,
which keep up the spirits of the Belgian people and drive the Germans to
impotent fury.
In this case, as in that of the University of Ghent, the Germans
professed to be responding to Belgian desires. They point to the
so-called Council of Flanders, in reality a collection of renegade
Belgians who were brought together by German influence, and protected by
German arms from the violence of Flemish mobs, who dared to hiss them
and insult them. A delegation of these worthies was conducted to Berlin,
where they presented a humble request for the strangulation of Belgian
liberty and the partition of their native land. Against this plot all
Belgium has risen. How can Belgium have risen? The answer will give some
idea of the bravery of those people, even in the isolation and darkness
and hunger of their present life. Last June between four and five
hundred Belgian magistrates and members of the bar signed a fruitless
petition to the German Chancellor against the decree. Judges and local
administrative officials gave up their functions and their livelihood.
For this, many of them were arrested and deported to Germany. Against
the decree of separation, and in favor of "the Belgian Fatherland, Free
and Indivisible," petitions have been signed by nearly all the former
senators and deputies remaining in Belgium, by the Flamingant leaders,
by municipal councils, and by the heroic Cardinal Mercier. The Cardinal
especially drew attention to the fact that international law demands
that the domestic administration of an invaded country shall be allowed
to proceed unmolested, if military necessity permits. To this point
Baron von Falkenhausen, the German Governor-General, made the following
insolent rejoinder: "Your Eminence addressed to me on the 6th of June a
letter in which, taking your stand on the principles of international
law, you criticize certain of my official acts. I must respectfully
reply to your Eminence that I refuse to enter with you upon a discussion
of this subject."
Decree has followed decree with steady insistence. The courts, even in
Brussels, which is mainly a French-speaking city, must hold their
sessions in Flemish; official correspondence north of the imaginary line
must be in Flemish; the Official Bulletin of German Laws and Decrees in
Occupied Belgium is printed in German and Flemish for one part of the
country and in German and French for the other. On August 9, 1917, von
Falkenhausen issued an edict declaring that in the Flemish
administrative region "Flemish must be the exclusive official language
of all the authorities and all the functionaries of the state, the
provinces, and the communes, as well as their establishments, including
educational institutions and the teachers therein." On October 6 the
communes in the Province of Brabant were ordered immediately to organize
courses in Flemish for the instruction of their employees who did not
know that language.
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
The United States Constitution
All of the original Project Gutenberg Etexts from the
1970's were produced in ALL CAPS, no lower case. The
computers we used then didn't have lower case at all.
***
The following edition of The Consitution of the United States of America
has been based on many hours of study of a variety of editions, and will
include certain variant spellings, punctuation, and captialization as we
have been able to reasonable ascertain belonged to the orginal. In case
of internal discrepancies in these matters, most or all have been left.
In our orginal editions the letters were all CAPITALS, and we did not do
anything about capitalization, consistent or otherwise, nor with most of
the punctuation, since we had limited punctionation in those days.
This document does NOT include the amendments, as the Bill of Rights was
one of our earlier Project Gutenberg Etexts, and the others will be sent
in a separate posting.
***
We would ask that any Consitutional scholars would please take a minute,
or longer, to send us a note concerning possible corrections.
***
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 1787
We the people of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union,
establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence,
promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves
and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the
United States of America.
Article 1
Section 1. All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a
Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and
House of Representatives.
Section 2. The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members
chosen every second Year by the People of the several States,
and the electors in each State shall have the qualifications requisite
for electors of the most numerous branch of the State legislature.
No Person shall be a Representative who shall not have attained to the
Age of twenty five Years, and been seven Years a citizen of the United States,
and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State in which
he shall be chosen.
Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among
the several States which may be included within this Union,
according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined
by adding to the whole number of free Persons, including those
bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed,
three fifths of all other Persons. The actual Enumeration shall be made
within three Years after the first Meeting of the Congress of the
United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten Years,
in such Manner as they shall by law Direct. The number of
Representatives shall not exceed one for every thirty Thousand,
but each State shall have at least one Representative;
and until such enumeration shall be made, the State of New Hampshire
shall be entitled to chuse three, Massachusetts eight, Rhode Island
and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut five, New York six,
New Jersey four, Pennsylvania eight, Delaware one, Maryland six,
Virginia ten, North Carolina five, South Carolina five, and Georgia three.
When vacancies happen in the Representation from any State, the Executive
Authority thereof shall issue Writs of Election to fill such Vacancies.
The House of Representatives shall chuse their Speaker and other Officers;
and shall have the sole Power of Impeachment.
Section 3. The Senate of the United States shall be composed of
two Senators from each State, chosen by the legislature thereof,
for six Years; and each Senator shall have one Vote.
Immediately after they shall be assembled in Consequence of the first Election,
they shall be divided as equally as may be into three Classes. The Seats of
the Senators of the first Class shall be vacated at the expiration of the
second Year, of the second Class at the expiration of the fourth Year,
and of the third Class at the expiration of the sixth Year, so that one third
may be chosen every second Year; and if vacancies happen by Resignation,
or otherwise, during the recess of the Legislature of any State,
the Executive thereof may make temporary Appointments until the
next meeting of the Legislature, which shall then fill such Vacancies.
No person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the Age of
thirty Years, and been nine Years a Citizen of the United States,
and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State
for which he shall be chosen.
The Vice-President of the United States shall be President of the Senate,
but shall have no Vote, unless they be equally divided.
The Senate shall choose their other Officers, and also a President
pro tempore, in the Absence of the Vice-President, or when he shall
exercise the Office of President of the United States.
The Senate shall have the sole Power to try all Impeachments.
When sitting for that Purpose, they shall be on Oath or Affirmation.
When the President of the United States is tried, the Chief Justice
shall preside: And no Person shall be convicted without the Concurrence
of two thirds of the Members present.
Judgment in cases of Impeachment shall not extend further than to removal
from Office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any Office of honor,
Trust or Profit under the United States: but the Party convicted shall
nevertheless be liable and subject to Indictment, Trial, Judgment and
Punishment, according to Law.
Section 4. The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and
Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof;
but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations,
except as to the Places of chusing Senators.
The Congress shall assemble at least once in every Year,
and such Meeting shall be on the first Monday in December,
unless they shall by law appoint a different Day.
Section 5. Each House shall be the Judge of the Elections,
Returns and Qualifications of its own Members, and a
Majority of each shall constitute a Quorum to do Business;
but a smaller Number may adjourn from day to day,
and may be authorized to compel the Attendance of absent Members,
in such Manner, and under such Penalties as each House may provide.
Each house may determine the Rules of its Proceedings,
punish its Members for disorderly Behavior, and, with the
Concurrence of two-thirds, expel a Member.
Each house shall keep a Journal of its Proceedings,
and from time to time publish the same, excepting such Parts as may
in their Judgment require Secrecy; and the Yeas and Nays of the
Members of either House on any question shall, at the Desire of
one fifth of those Present, be entered on the Journal.
Neither House, during the Session of Congress, shall, without the
Consent of the other, adjourn for more than three days, nor to
any other Place than that in which the two Houses shall be sitting.
Section 6. The Senators and Representatives shall receive a Compensation
for their Services, to be ascertained by Law, and paid out of the Treasury
of the United States. They shall in all Cases, except Treason, Felony and
Breach of the Peace, be privileged from Arrest during their Attendance
at the Session of their respective Houses, and in going to and returning
from the same; and for any Speech or Debate in either House,
they shall not be questioned in any other Place.
No Senator or Representative shall, during the Time for which he was elected,
be appointed to any civil Office under the authority of the United States,
which shall have been created, or the Emoluments whereof shall have been
increased during such time; and no Person holding any Office under the
United States, shall be a Member of either House during his Continuance
in Office.
Section 7. All Bills for raising Revenue shall originate in the
House of Representatives; but the Senate may propose or concur with
Amendments as on other Bills.
Every Bill which shall have passed the House of Representatives and
the Senate, shall, before it become a Law, be presented to the
President of the United States; If he approve he shall sign it,
but if not he shall return it, with his Objections to that House
in which it shall have originated, who shall enter the Objections
at large on their Journal, and proceed to reconsider it.
If after such Reconsideration two thirds of that house
shall agree to pass the Bill, it shall be sent,
together with the Objections, to the other House, by which
it shall likewise be reconsidered, and if approved by two thirds
of that House, it shall become a law. But in all such Cases
the Votes of both Houses shall be determined by Yeas and Nays,
and the Names of the Persons voting for and against the Bill shall be
entered on the Journal of each House respectively. If any Bill
shall not be returned by the President within ten Days (Sundays excepted)
after it shall have been presented to him, the Same shall be a Law,
in like Manner as if he had signed it, unless the Congress by their
Adjournment prevent its Return, in which case it shall not be a Law.
Every Order, Resolution, or Vote to which the Concurrence of the Senate
and House of Representatives may be necessary (except on a question
of Adjournment) shall be presented to the President of the United States;
and before the Same shall take Effect, shall be approved by him,
or being disapproved by him, shall be repassed by two thirds of
the Senate and House of Representatives, according to the Rules
and Limitations prescribed in the Case of a Bill.
Section 8. The Congress shall have Power to lay and collect Taxes, Duties,
Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence
and general Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises
shall be uniform throughout the United States;
To borrow Money on the credit of the United States;
To regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States,
and with the Indian Tribes;
To establish an uniform Rule of Naturalization, and uniform Laws
on the subject of Bankruptcies throughout the United States;
To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin,
and fix the Standard of Weights and Measures;
To provide for the Punishment of counterfeiting the Securities
and current Coin of the United States;
To establish Post Offices and Post Roads;
To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing
for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right
to their respective Writings and Discoveries;
To constitute Tribunals inferior to the supreme Court;
To define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas,
and Offenses against the Law of Nations;
To declare War, grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal,
and make Rules concerning Captures on Land and Water;
To raise and support Armies, but no Appropriation of Money to that Use
shall be for a longer term than two Years;
To provide and maintain a Navy;
To make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the land and naval Forces;
To provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the Laws of the Union,
suppress Insurrections and repel Invasions;
To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining, the Militia, and for
governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the
United States, reserving to the States respectively, the Appointment
of the Officers, and the Authority of training the militia according
to the discipline prescribed by Congress;
To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever,
over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may,
by Cession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress,
become the Seat of the Government of the United States, and to
exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent
of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be,
for the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, Dockyards,
and other needful Buildings;--And
To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying
into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested
by this Constitution in the Government of the United States,
or in any Department or Officer thereof.
Section 9. The Migration or Importation of such Persons as any
of the States now existing shall think proper to admit, shall not
be prohibited by the Congress prior to the Year one thousand eight
hundred and eight, but a Tax or Duty may be imposed on such Importation,
not exceeding ten dollars for each Person.
The Privilege of the Writ of Habeas Corpus shall not be suspended, unless
when in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion the public Safety may require it.
No Bill of Attainder or ex post facto Law shall be passed.
No Capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion
to the Census or Enumeration herein before directed to be taken.
No Tax or Duty shall be laid on Articles exported from any State.
No Preference shall be given by any Regulation of Commerce or Revenue
to the Ports of one State over those of another: nor shall Vessels bound to,
or from, one State, be obliged to enter, clear, or pay Duties in another.
No Money shall be drawn from the Treasury, but in Consequence
of Appropriations made by Law; and a regular Statement and Account
of the Receipts and Expenditures of all public Money shall be
published from time to time.
No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States;
and no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall,
without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument,
Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince,
or foreign State.
Section 10. No State shall enter into any Treaty, Alliance, or
Confederation; grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal; coin Money;
emit Bills of Credit; make any Thing but gold and silver Coin a Tender
in Payment of Debts; pass any Bill of Attainder, ex post facto Law,
or Law impairing the Obligation of Contracts, or grant any Title of Nobility.
No State shall, without the Consent of the Congress, lay any Imposts or Duties
on Imports or Exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for executing
it's inspection Laws: and the net Produce of all Duties and Imposts,
laid by any State on Imports or Exports, shall be for the Use of the Treasury
of the United States; and all such Laws shall be subject to the Revision
and Controul of the Congress.
No State shall, without the Consent of Congress, lay any Duty of
Tonnage, keep Troops, or Ships of War in time of Peace, enter into any
Agreement or Compact with another State, or with a foreign Power, or
engage in War, unless actually invaded, or in such imminent Danger
as will not admit of delay.
ARTICLE 2
Section 1. The executive Power shall be vested in a President
of the United States of America. He shall hold his Office during
the Term of four Years, and, together with the Vice President
chosen for the same Term, be elected, as follows:
Each State shall appoint, in such Manner as the Legislature thereof may direct,
a Number of Electors, equal to the whole Number of Senators and Representatives
to which the State may be entitled in the Congress: but no Senator or
Representative, or Person holding an Office of Trust or Profit under
the United States, shall be appointed an Elector.
The Electors shall meet in their respective States, and vote by Ballot
for two Persons, of whom one at least shall not be an Inhabitant of
the same State with themselves. And they shall make a List of
all the Persons voted for, and of the Number of Votes for each;
which List they shall sign and certify, and transmit sealed to
the Seat of the Government of the United States, directed to the
President of the Senate. The President of the Senate shall,
in the Presence of the Senate and House of Representatives,
open all the Certificates, and the Votes shall then be counted.
The Person having the greatest Number of Votes shall be the President,
if such Number be a Majority of the whole Number of Electors appointed;
and if there be more than one who have such Majority, and have an equal
Number of votes, then the House of Representatives shall immediately
chuse by Ballot one of them for President; and if no Person have
a Majority, then from the five highest on the List the said House
shall in like Manner chuse the President. But in chusing the President,
the Votes shall be taken by States, the Representation from each State
having one Vote; a Quorum for this Purpose shall consist of a Member
or Members from two thirds of the States, and a Majority of all the
States shall be necessary to a Choice. In every Case, after the Choice
of the President, the Person having the greatest Number of Votes of
the Electors shall be the Vice President. But if there should remain
two or more who have equal Votes, the Senate shall chuse from them
by Ballot the Vice President.
The Congress may determine the Time of chusing the Electors,
and the Day on which they shall give their Votes; which Day
shall be the same throughout the United States.
No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States,
at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to
the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that
Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years,
and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States.
In Case of the Removal of the President from Office, or of his Death,
Resignation, or Inability to discharge the Powers and Duties of the
said Office, the Same shall devolve on the Vice President, and the
Congress may by Law provide for the Case of Removal, Death, Resignation
or Inability, both of the President and Vice President, declaring what
Officer shall then act as President, and such Officer shall act accordingly,
until the Disability be removed, or a President shall be elected.
The President shall, at stated Times, receive for his Services,
a Compensation, which shall neither be encreased nor diminished during
the Period for which he shall have been elected, and he shall not receive
within that Period any other Emolument from the United States, or any of them.
Before he enter on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the
following Oath or Affirmation:--"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that
I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States,
and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the
Constitution of the United States."
Section 2. The President shall be Commander in Chief of the Army
and Navy of the United States, and of the Militia of the several States,
when called into the actual Service of the United States;
he may require the Opinion, in writing, of the principal Officer
in each of the executive Departments, upon any Subject relating to
the Duties of their respective Offices, and he shall have Power
to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offenses against the United States,
except in Cases of impeachment.
He shall have Power, by and with the Advice and Consent of the
Senate, to make Treaties, provided two thirds of the Senators
present concur; and he shall nominate, and by and with the Advice
and Consent of the Senate, shall appoint Ambassadors, other public
Ministers and Consuls, Judges of the supreme Court, and all other
Officers of the United States, whose Appointments are not herein
otherwise provided for, and which shall be established by Law:
but the Congress may by Law vest the Appointment of such inferior Officers,
as they think proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law,
or in the Heads of Departments.
The President shall have Power to fill up all Vacancies that may happen
during the Recess of the Senate, by granting Commissions which shall
expire at the End of their next session.
Section 3. He shall from time to time give to the Congress
Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their
Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient;
he may, on extraordinary Occasions, convene both Houses, or either
of them, and in Case of Disagreement between them, with Respect to
the Time of Adjournment, he may adjourn them to such Time as he shall
think proper; he shall receive Ambassadors and other public Ministers;
he shall take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed, and shall
Commission all the Officers of the United States.
Section 4. The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the
United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for,
and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.
ARTICLE THREE
Section 1. The judicial Power of the United States, shall be vested
in one supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may
from time to time ordain and establish. The Judges, both of the supreme
and inferior Courts, shall hold their Offices during good behavior,
and shall, at stated Times, receive for their Services, a Compensation,
which shall not be diminished during their Continuance in Office.
Section 2. The judicial Power shall extend to all Cases, in Law and Equity,
arising under this Constitution, the Laws of the United States, and Treaties
made, or which shall be made, under their Authority;--to all Cases affecting
Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls;--to all Cases of admiralty
and maritime Jurisdiction;--to Controversies to which the United States
shall be a Party;--to Controversies between two or more States;--between a
State and Citizens of another State;--between Citizens of different States;
--between Citizens of the same State claiming Lands under Grants of
different States, and between a State, or the Citizens thereof,
and foreign States, Citizens or Subjects.
In all cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls,
and those in which a State shall be Party, the supreme Court shall have
original Jurisdiction. In all the other Cases before mentioned, the
supreme Court shall have appellate Jurisdiction, both as to Law and Fact,
with such Exceptions, and under such Regulations as the Congress shall make.
The Trial of all Crimes, except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by Jury;
and such Trial shall be held in the State where the said Crimes shall
have been committed; but when not committed within any State, the Trial
shall be at such Place or Places as the Congress may by Law have directed.
Section 3. Treason against the United States, shall consist only in
levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them
Aid and Comfort. No Person shall be convicted of Treason unless on
the Testimony of two Witnesses to the same overt Act, or on Confession
in open Court.
The Congress shall have power to declare the punishment of Treason,
but no Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood,
or Forfeiture except during the Life of the Person attainted.
ARTICLE FOUR
Section 1. Full Faith and Credit shall be given in each State to the
public Acts, Records, and judicial Proceedings of every other State.
And the Congress may by general Laws prescribe the Manner in which such Acts,
Records, and Proceedings shall be proved, and the Effect thereof.
Section 2. The Citizens of each State shall be entitled to all
Privileges and Immunities of Citizens in the several States.
A Person charged in any State with Treason, Felony, or other Crime,
who shall flee from Justice, and be found in another State,
shall on Demand of the executive Authority of the State from
which he fled, be delivered up, to be removed to the State having
Jurisdiction of the Crime.
No person held to Service or Labor in one State, under the Laws thereof,
escaping into another, shall, in Consequence of any Law or Regulation therein,
be discharged from such Service or Labor, But shall be delivered up on Claim
of the Party to whom such Service or Labor may be due.
Section 3. New States may be admitted by the Congress into this Union;
but no new States shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction
of any other State; nor any State be formed by the Junction of two
or more States, or Parts of States, without the Consent of the
Legislatures of the States concerned as well as of the Congress.
The Congress shall have Power to dispose of and make all needful Rules
and Regulations respecting the Territory or other Property belonging
to the United States; and nothing in this Constitution shall be so
construed as to Prejudice any Claims of the United States,
or of any particular State.
Section 4. The United States shall guarantee to every State in this Union
a Republican Form of Government, and shall protect each of them against
Invasion; and on Application of the Legislature, or of the Executive
(when the Legislature cannot be convened) against domestic Violence.
ARTICLE FIVE
The Congress, whenever two thirds of both Houses shall deem it necessary,
shall propose Amendments to this Constitution, or, on the Application of
the Legislatures of two thirds of the several States, shall call a Convention
for proposing Amendments, which, in either Case, shall be valid to all Intents
and Purposes, as Part of this Constitution, when ratified by the Legislatures
of three fourths of the several States, or by Conventions in three fourths
thereof, as the one or the other Mode of Ratification may be proposed by
the Congress; Provided that no Amendment which may be made prior to the
Year one thousand eight hundred and eight shall in any Manner affect
the first and fourth Clauses in the ninth Section of the first Article;
and that no State, without its Consent, shall be deprived of it's
equal Suffrage in the Senate.
ARTICLE SIX
All Debts contracted and Engagements entered into, before the Adoption
of this Constitution, shall be as valid against the United States
under this Constitution, as under the Confederation.
This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made
in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made,
under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme
Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby,
any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary
notwithstanding.
The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of the
several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers,
both of the United States and of the several States, shall be bound
by Oath or Affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious
Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust
under the United States
ARTICLE SEVEN
The Ratification of the Conventions of nine States, shall be sufficient for the
Establishment of this Constitution between the States so ratifying the Same.
Done in Convention by the Unanimous Consent of the States present
the Seventeenth Day of September in the Year of our Lord one
thousand seven hundred and eighty seven and of the Independence of the
United States of America the Twelfth In Witness whereof We have
hereunto subscribed our Names,
Go. WASHINGTON--
Presid. and deputy from Virginia
New Hampshire
John Langdon
Nicholas Gilman
Massachusetts
Nathaniel Gorham
Rufus King
Connecticut
Wm. Saml. Johnson
Roger Sherman
New York
Alexander Hamilton
New Jersey
Wil: Livingston
David Brearley
Wm. Paterson
Jona: Dayton
Pennsylvania
B Franklin
Thomas Mifflin
Robt Morris
Geo. Clymer
Thos FitzSimons
Jared Ingersoll
James Wilson
Gouv Morris
Delaware
Geo: Read
Gunning Bedford jun
John Dickinson
Richard Bassett
Jaco: Broom
Maryland
James Mchenry
Dan of St Thos. Jenifer
Danl Carroll
Virginia
John Blair--
James Madison Jr.
North Carolina
Wm. Blount
Rich'd Dobbs Spaight
Hu Williamson
South Carolina
J. Rutledge
Charles Cotesworth Pinckney
Charles Pinckney
Pierce Butler
Georgia
William Few
Abr Baldwin
Attest:
William Jackson, Secretary
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
The United States Bill of Rights
The United States Bill of Rights.
The Ten Original Amendments to the Constitution of the United States
Passed by Congress September 25, 1789
Ratified December 15, 1791
I
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,
or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech,
or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble,
and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
II
A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free State,
the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.
III
No soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house,
without the consent of the owner, nor in time of war,
but in a manner to be prescribed by law.
IV
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers,
and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated,
and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath
or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched,
and the persons or things to be seized.
V
No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime,
unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising
in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service
in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for
the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb;
nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself,
nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law;
nor shall private property be taken for public use without just compensation.
VI
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a
speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district
wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have
been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature
and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him;
to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor,
and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.
VII
In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed
twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved,
and no fact tried by a jury shall be otherwise re-examined in any court
of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law.
VIII
Excessive bail shall not be required nor excessive fines imposed,
nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
IX
The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights,
shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.
X
The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution,
nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively,
or to the people.
JIM - Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
JIM – Assistente
Jim IA: pode errar. Não digite dados pessoais. Suas mensagens são processadas por um serviço externo.
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