Chapter IV

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other’s neck. Alice knew which was which, because one of them had “dum” on his collar, and the other “dee”. “I think they’ve got “Tweedle” at the back of the collar,” she said to herself.

They stood so still that she forgot that they were alive. She wanted to look if the word “Tweedle” was written at the back of each collar, when one, who had “dum’, said, “If you think we’re wax-works, you should pay!”

“Contrariwise,” added the one, who had “dee”, “if you think we’re alive, you should speak.”

“I’m very sorry,” said Alice. The words of the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock:

 

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.”

“I was thinking,” Alice said very politely, “which is the best way out of this wood. It’s getting dark. Could you tell me, please?”

But the fat little men only looked at each other and grinned.

They looked like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice said, “First Boy!”

“Nohow!” Tweedledum cried.

“Next Boy!” said Alice, although she felt Tweedledee would only shout out “Contrariwise!” and so he did.

“You are wrong!” cried Tweedledum. “The first thing you should do is to say ‘How do you do?’ and shake hands!”

And the two brothers gave each other a hug, and then they raised the two hands that were free to shake hands with Alice.

Alice took both hands at once: the next moment they were dancing in a ring. It was very natural, and she was not even surprised when she heard music.

The other two dancers were fat, and soon they stopped. Then they let go Alice’s hands, stood and looked at her for a minute.

“I hope you’re not tired?” she said at last.

“Nohow. And thank you for asking,” said Tweedledum.

“Do you like poetry?” asked Tweedledee.

“Yes … I like poetry,” Alice said. “But could you tell me which road leads out of the wood?”

“What can I read to her?” asked Tweedledee, he didn’t notice Alice’s question.

“‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’” is the longest,” Tweedledum said.

Tweedledee began:

 

“The sun was shining—”

 

But Alice interrupted him. “If it’s very long,” she said, “would you please tell me first which road—”

But 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 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!”

 

 

“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.”

 

 

And 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 this was scarcely odd, because

They’d eaten every one.”

 

“I like the Walrus best,” said Alice, “because he was a little sorry for the poor oysters.”

“But he ate more than the Carpenter,” said Tweedledee. “You see he held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn’t count how many he took: contrariwise.”

“That’s terrible!” Alice cried. “Then I like the Carpenter—if he didn’t eat so many as the Walrus.”

“But he ate as many as he could get,” said Tweedledum.

“Well! They’re both very unpleasant characters—” Alice said. Here she heard some noises. “Are there any lions or tigers here?” she asked.

“It’s only the Red King! He is snoring,” said Tweedledee.

“Come and look at him!” the brothers cried, and they each took one of Alice’s hands, and showed her the King, who was sleeping.

“Isn’t he lovely?” said Tweedledum.

Alice couldn’t say honestly. He had a red night-cap, and he was lying under the tree, and snoring loud.

“I’m afraid he’ll catch cold,” said Alice, who was a very kind little girl.

“He’s dreaming now,” said Tweedledee, “and what do you think he’s dreaming about?”

Alice said, “Nobody can guess that.”

“About you!” Tweedledee said, clapping his hands. “You’re his dream!”

“If the King wakes,” added Tweedledum, “you will disappear—bang! And that’s it!”

“No, I won’t!” Alice said. “Besides, if I’m only his dream, what are you then?”

“The same,” said Tweedledum.

“The same,” cried Tweedledee.

He shouted this so loud that Alice said, “Hush! You’ll wake him, I’m afraid, if you make so much noise.”

“Well, don’t be afraid,” said Tweedledum, “you’re only his dream. You know very well you’re not real.”

“I am real!” said Alice and began to cry. “I know they’re talking nonsense,” Alice thought to herself: “and it’s foolish to cry about it.” So she stopped crying, and went on with a smile, “Anyway I need to get out of the wood, it’s really getting very dark. Do you think it’s going to rain?”

Tweedledum opened a large umbrella over himself and his brother. “No, I don’t think it is,” he said: “at least not under the umbrella. Nohow.”

“But it may rain outside—”

“It may—,” said Tweedledee, “Contrariwise.”

“How selfish you are!” thought Alice, and she was going to say “Good-night” and leave them, when Tweedledum suddenly asked her, “Do you see that?” he pointed with his finger at a small white thing that was lying under the tree.

“It’s only a rattle, an old rattle … very old and broken.”

“I knew it!” cried Tweedledum and he looked at Tweedledee, who tried to hide himself under the umbrella.

“You shouldn’t be so angry about an old rattle,” said Alice.

“But it isn’t old!” Tweedledum cried. “It’s new … I bought it yesterday … My nice new rattle! Do you agree to have a battle?” Tweedledum asked Tweedledee.

“Yes,” he answered: “only she must help to dress us.”

So the two brothers went into the wood, and returned in a minute with lots of things … such as bolsters, blankets, hearth-rugs, tablecloths, dish-covers and coalscuttles. “I hope you can help us with all that,” Tweedledum said. “Everything must be on us.”

Alice started to help them, but they looked so funny in all those things that Alice laughed very loudly: but she turned it into a cough, because she didn’t want to hurt their feelings.

“Do I look very pale?” said Tweedledum, he put his helmet on. He called it a helmet, although it was a saucepan.

“Well … yes … a little,” Alice said.

“I’m very brave,” he said: “but today I have a headache.”

“And I have a toothache now!” said Tweedledee. “I’m feeling worse than you!”

“Then don’t fight today!” said Alice.

“We must fight, but what’s the time now?” said Tweedledum.

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, “and she can watch us … only don’t come very close,” he added; “I hit everything I can see.”

“And I hit everything,” cried Tweedledum, “whether I can see it or not!”

Alice laughed. “You hit the trees very often, I think,” she said. “But this all about a rattle!” she added, she hoped to make them ashamed that they wanted to fight for such a trifle.

“It was a new rattle!” cried Tweedledum.

“I wish the monstrous crow would come!” thought Alice.

“We must begin. It’s getting dark,” said Tweedledum.

“And darker,” said Tweedledee.

It was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought it was a thunderstorm.

“What a thick black cloud it is!” she said. “And how fast it comes!”

“It’s the crow!” cried Tweedledum.

And the two brothers ran away quickly.

Alice ran into the wood, and stopped under a large tree.

“It can never get at me here,” she thought: “it’s too large to fly among the trees. It makes a hurricane in the wood—oh, here’s somebody’s scarf!”