Phantasmagoria and Other Poems

Lewis Carroll

Phantasmagoria and Other Poems

Inscribed to a dear Child:

in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea.

Girt with a boyish garb for boyish task,

   Eager she wields her spade: yet loves as well

Rest on the friendly knee, intent to ask

         The tale one loves to tell.

Rude scoffer of the seething outer strife,

   Unmeet to read her pure and simple spright,

Deem, if thou wilt, such hours a waste of life,

         Empty of all delight!

Chat on, sweet Maid, and rescue from annoy

   Hearts that by wiser talk are unbeguilded.

Ah, happy he who owns the tenderest joy,

         The heart-love of a child!

Away, fond thoughts, and vex my soul no more!

   Work claims my wakeful nights, my busy days,

Albeit bright memories of the sunlit shore

         Yet haunt my dreaming gaze.

PHANTASMAGORIA

CANTO I

The Trystyng

One winter night, at half-past nine,

      Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,

I had come home, too late to dine,

And supper, with cigars and wine,

      Was waiting in the study.

There was a strangeness in the room,

      And Something white and wavy

Was standing near me in the gloom —

I

 took it for the carpet-broom

      Left by that careless slavey.

But presently the Thing began

      To shiver and to sneeze:

On which I said “Come, come, my man!

That’s a most inconsiderate plan.

      Less noise there, if you please!”

“I’ve caught a cold,” the Thing replies,

      “Out there upon the landing.”

I turned to look in some surprise,

And there, before my very eyes,

      A little Ghost was standing!

He trembled when he caught my eye,

      And got behind a chair.

“How came you here,” I said, “and why?

I never saw a thing so shy.

      Come out!  Don’t shiver there!”

He said “I’d gladly tell you how,

      And also tell you why;

But” (here he gave a little bow)

“You’re in so bad a temper now,

      You’d think it all a lie.

“And as to being in a fright,

      Allow me to remark

That Ghosts have just as good a right

In every way, to fear the light,

      As Men to fear the dark.”

“No plea,” said I, “can well excuse

      Such cowardice in you:

For Ghosts can visit when they choose,

Whereas we Humans ca’n’t refuse

      To grant the interview.”

He said “A flutter of alarm

      Is not unnatural, is it?

I really feared you meant some harm:

But, now I see that you are calm,

      Let me explain my visit.

“Houses are classed, I beg to state,

      According to the number

Of Ghosts that they accommodate:

(The Tenant merely counts as

weight

,

      With Coals and other lumber).

“This is a ‘one-ghost’ house, and you

      When you arrived last summer,

May have remarked a Spectre who

Was doing all that Ghosts can do

      To welcome the new-comer.

“In Villas this is always done —

      However cheaply rented:

For, though of course there’s less of fun

When there is only room for one,

      Ghosts have to be contented.

“That Spectre left you on the Third —

      Since then you’ve not been haunted:

For, as he never sent us word,

’Twas quite by accident we heard

      That any one was wanted.

“A Spectre has first choice, by right,

      In filling up a vacancy;

Then Phantom, Goblin, Elf, and Sprite —

If all these fail them, they invite

      The nicest Ghoul that they can see.

“The Spectres said the place was low,

      And that you kept bad wine:

So, as a Phantom had to go,

And I was first, of course, you know,

      I couldn’t well decline.”

“No doubt,” said I, “they settled who

      Was fittest to be sent

Yet still to choose a brat like you,

To haunt a man of forty-two,

      Was no great compliment!”

“I’m not so young, Sir,” he replied,

      “As you might think.  The fact is,

In caverns by the water-side,

And other places that I’ve tried,

      I’ve had a lot of practice:

“But I have never taken yet

      A strict domestic part,

And in my flurry I forget

The Five Good Rules of Etiquette

      We have to know by heart.”

My sympathies were warming fast

      Towards the little fellow:

He was so utterly aghast

At having found a Man at last,

      And looked so scared and yellow.

“At least,” I said, “I’m glad to find

      A Ghost is not a

dumb

 thing!

But pray sit down: you’ll feel inclined

(If, like myself, you have not dined)

      To take a snack of something:

“Though, certainly, you don’t appear

      A thing to offer

food

 to!

And then I shall be glad to hear —

If you will say them loud and clear —

      The Rules that you allude to.”

“Thanks!  You shall hear them by and by.

      This

is

 a piece of luck!”

“What may I offer you?” said I.

“Well, since you

are

 so kind, I’ll try

      A little bit of duck.

“

One

 slice!  And may I ask you for

      Another drop of gravy?”

I sat and looked at him in awe,

For certainly I never saw

      A thing so white and wavy.

And still he seemed to grow more white,

      More vapoury, and wavier —

Seen in the dim and flickering light,

As he proceeded to recite

      His “Maxims of Behaviour.”

CANTO II

Hys Fyve Rules

“My First – but don’t suppose,” he said,

      “I’m setting you a riddle —

Is – if your Victim be in bed,

Don’t touch the curtains at his head,

      But take them in the middle,

“And wave them slowly in and out,

      While drawing them asunder;

And in a minute’s time, no doubt,

He’ll raise his head and look about

      With eyes of wrath and wonder.

“And here you must on no pretence

      Make the first observation.

Wait for the Victim to commence:

No Ghost of any common sense

      Begins a conversation.

“If he should say ‘

How came you here

?’

      (The way that

you

 began, Sir,)

In such a case your course is clear —

‘

On the bat’s back

,

my little dear

!’

      Is the appropriate answer.

“If after this he says no more,

      You’d best perhaps curtail your

Exertions – go and shake the door,

And then, if he begins to snore,

      You’ll know the thing’s a failure.

“By day, if he should be alone —

      At home or on a walk —

You merely give a hollow groan,

To indicate the kind of tone

      In which you mean to talk.

“But if you find him with his friends,

      The thing is rather harder.

In such a case success depends

On picking up some candle-ends,

      Or butter, in the larder.

“With this you make a kind of slide

      (It answers best with suet),

On which you must contrive to glide,

And swing yourself from side to side —

      One soon learns how to do it.

“The Second tells us what is right

      In ceremonious calls: —

‘

First burn a blue or crimson light

’

(A thing I quite forgot to-night),

      ‘

Then scratch the door or walls

.’”

I said “You’ll visit

here

 no more,

      If you attempt the Guy.

I’ll have no bonfires on

my

 floor —

And, as for scratching at the door,

      I’d like to see you try!”

“The Third was written to protect

      The interests of the Victim,

And tells us, as I recollect,

To treat him with a grave respect

,

And not to contradict him

.”

“That’s plain,” said I, “as Tare and Tret,

      To any comprehension:

I only wish

some

 Ghosts I’ve met

Would not so

constantly

 forget

      The maxim that you mention!”

“Perhaps,” he said, “

you

 first transgressed

      The laws of hospitality:

All Ghosts instinctively detest

The Man that fails to treat his guest

      With proper cordiality.

“If you address a Ghost as ‘Thing!’

      Or strike him with a hatchet,

He is permitted by the King

To drop all

formal

 parleying —

      And then you’re

sure

 to catch it!

“The Fourth prohibits trespassing

      Where other Ghosts are quartered:

And those convicted of the thing

(Unless when pardoned by the King)

      Must instantly be slaughtered.

“That simply means ‘be cut up small’:

      Ghosts soon unite anew.

The process scarcely hurts at all —

Not more than when

you

 ’re what you call

      ‘Cut up’ by a Review.

“The Fifth is one you may prefer

      That I should quote entire: —

The King must be addressed as

 ‘

Sir

.’

This

,

from a simple courtier

,

Is all the Laws require

:

“

But

,

should you wish to do the thing

With out-and-out politeness

,

Accost him as

 ‘

My Goblin King

!

And always use

,

in answering

,

The phrase

 ‘

Your Royal Whiteness

!’

“I’m getting rather hoarse, I fear,

      After so much reciting:

So, if you don’t object, my dear,

We’ll try a glass of bitter beer —

      I think it looks inviting.”

CANTO III

Scarmoges

“And did you really walk,” said I,

      “On such a wretched night?

I always fancied Ghosts could fly —

If not exactly in the sky,

      Yet at a fairish height.”

“It’s very well,” said he, “for Kings

      To soar above the earth:

But Phantoms often find that wings —

Like many other pleasant things —

      Cost more than they are worth.

“Spectres of course are rich, and so

      Can buy them from the Elves:

But

we

 prefer to keep below —

They’re stupid company, you know,

      For any but themselves:

“For, though they claim to be exempt

      From pride, they treat a Phantom

As something quite beneath contempt —

Just as no Turkey ever dreamt

      Of noticing a Bantam.”

“They seem too proud,” said I, “to go

      To houses such as mine.

Pray, how did they contrive to know

So quickly that ‘the place was low,’

      And that I ‘kept bad wine’?”

“Inspector Kobold came to you – ”

      The little Ghost began.

Here I broke in – “Inspector who?

Inspecting Ghosts is something new!

      Explain yourself, my man!”

“His name is Kobold,” said my guest:

      “One of the Spectre order:

You’ll very often see him dressed

In a yellow gown, a crimson vest,

      And a night-cap with a border.

“He tried the Brocken business first,

      But caught a sort of chill;

So came to England to be nursed,

And here it took the form of

thirst

,

      Which he complains of still.

“Port-wine, he says, when rich and sound,

      Warms his old bones like nectar:

And as the inns, where it is found,

Are his especial hunting-ground,

      We call him the

Inn-Spectre

.”

I bore it – bore it like a man —

      This agonizing witticism!

And nothing could be sweeter than

My temper, till the Ghost began

      Some most provoking criticism.

“Cooks need not be indulged in waste;

      Yet still you’d better teach them

Dishes should have

some sort

 of taste.

Pray, why are all the cruets placed

      Where nobody can reach them?

“That man of yours will never earn

      His living as a waiter!

Is that queer

thing

 supposed to burn?

(It’s far too dismal a concern

      To call a Moderator).

“The duck was tender, but the peas

      Were very much too old:

And just remember, if you please,

The

next

 time you have toasted cheese,

      Don’t let them send it cold.

“You’d find the bread improved, I think,

      By getting better flour:

And have you anything to drink

That looks a

little

 less like ink,

      And isn’t

quite

 so sour?”

Then, peering round with curious eyes,

      He muttered “Goodness gracious!”

And so went on to criticise —

“Your room’s an inconvenient size:

      It’s neither snug nor spacious.

“That narrow window, I expect,

      Serves but to let the dusk in – ”

“But please,” said I, “to recollect

’Twas fashioned by an architect

      Who pinned his faith on Ruskin!”

“I don’t care who he was, Sir, or

      On whom he pinned his faith!

Constructed by whatever law,

So poor a job I never saw,

      As I’m a living Wraith!

“What a re-markable cigar!

      How much are they a dozen?”

I growled “No matter what they are!

You’re getting as familiar

      As if you were my cousin!

“Now that’s a thing

I will not stand

,

      And so I tell you flat.”

“Aha,” said he, “we’re getting grand!”

(Taking a bottle in his hand)

      “I’ll soon