Humpty Harper Sat On A Wall
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 HARPER 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 Harper was sitting, with his legs crossed like a Turk, on the top of a high wall — such a narrow one that Canada 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 Harper said after a long silence, looking away from Canada as he spoke, `to be called an egg — very!’
`I said you looked like an egg, Sir,’ Canada gently explained. `And some eggs are very pretty, you know,’ she added, hoping to turn her remark into a sort of compliment.
`Some people,’ said Humpty Harper, looking away from her as usual, `have no more sense than a baby!’
Canada 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 Harper sat on a wall:
Humpty Harper had a great fall.
All the Queen’s horses and all the Queen’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty Harper in his place again.‘
`That last line is much too long for the poetry,’ she added, almost out loud, forgetting that Humpty Harper would hear her.
`Don’t stand chattering to yourself like that,’ Humpty Harper said, looking at her for the first time, `but tell me your name and your business.’
`My name is Canada, but –’
`It’s a stupid name enough!’ Humpty Harper interrupted impatiently. `What does it mean?’
`Must a name mean something?’ Canada asked doubtfully.
`Of course it must,’ Humpty Harper 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 Canada, not wishing to begin an argument.
`Why, because there’s nobody with me!’ cried Humpty Harper. `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?’ Canada 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 Harper 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 up his lips, and looked so solemn and grand that Canada could hardly help laughing. `If I did fall,’ he went on, `the Governor General has promised me — ah, you may turn pale, if you like! You didn’t think I was going to say that, did you? The Governor General has promised me — with his very own mouth — to — to –’
`To send all our horses and all hour men,’ Canada interrupted, rather unwisely.
`Now I declare that’s too bad!’ Humpty Harper 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!’ Canada said very gently. `It’s in a book.’
`Ah, well! They may write such things in a book,’ Humpty Harper said in a calmer tone. `That’s what you call a History of Dominion, that is. Now, take a good look at me! I’m one that has spoken to a Monarch, 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 Canada 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 her horses and all her men,’ Humpty Harper 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,’ Canada said, very politely.
`In that case we start afresh,’ said Humpty Harper, `and it’s my turn to choose a subject –’ (`He talks about it just as if it was a game!’ thought Canada.) `So here’s a question for you. How old did you say you were?’
Canada made a short calculation, and said `One hundred and forty one years and six months.’
`Wrong!’ Humpty Harper exclaimed triumphantly. `You never said a word like it!’
`I thought you meant “How old are you?”‘ Canada explained.
`If I’d meant that, I’d have said it,’ said Humpty Harper.
Canada didn’t want to begin another argument, so she said nothing.
`One hundred and forty one years and six months!’ Humpty Harper 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,’ Canada said indignantly.
`Too proud?’ the other enquired.
Canada felt even more indignant at this suggestion. `I mean,’ she said, `that one can’t help growing older.’
`One can’t, perhaps,’ said Humpty Harper; `but two can. With proper assistance, you might have left off at seven.’
`What a beautiful belt you’ve got on!’ Canada 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 Harper looked thoroughly offended, and she began to wish she hadn’t chosen that subject. `If only I knew,’ she thought to herself, `which was neck and which was waist!’
Evidently Humpty Harper 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,’ Canada said, in so humble a tone that Humpty Harper relented.
`It’s a cravat, child, and a beautiful one, as you say. It’s a present from the Oil King and Queen. There now!’
`Is it really?’ said Canada, quite pleased to find that she had chosen a good subject after all.
`They gave it me,’ Humpty Harper 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?’ Canada said with a puzzled air.
`I’m not offended,’ said Humpty Harper.
`I mean, what is an un-birthday present?’
`A present given when it isn’t your birthday, of course.’
Canada considered a little. `I like birthday presents best,’ she said at last.
`You don’t know what you’re talking about!’ cried Humpty Harper. `How many days are there in a year?’
`Three hundred and sixty-five,’ said Canada.
`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 Harper looked doubtful. `I’d rather see that done on paper,’ he said.
Canada couldn’t help smiling as she took out her memorandum book, and worked the sum for him:
365
1
—-
364
—-
Humpty Harper took the book and looked at it carefully. `That seems to be done right –’ he began.
`You’re holding it upside down!’ Canada interrupted.
`To be sure I was!’ Humpty Harper 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 Canada.
`And only one for birthday presents, you know. There’s glory for you!’
`I don’t know what you mean by “glory”,’ Canada said.
Humpty Harper 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”,’ Canada objected.
`When I use a word,’ Humpty Harper said, in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.’
`The question is,’ said Canada, `whether you can make words mean so many different things.’
`The question is,’ said Humpty Harper, `which is to be master — that’s all.’
Canada was too much puzzled to say anything; so after a minute Humpty Harper 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 Canada, `what that means?’
`Now you talk like a reasonable child,’ said Humpty Harper, 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,’ Canada said in a thoughtful tone.
`When I make a word do a lot of work like that,’ said Humpty Harper, `I always pay it extra.’
`Oh!’ said Canada. She was too much puzzled to make any other remark.
`Ah, you should see ‘em come round me of a Saturday night,’ Humpty Harper went on, wagging his head gravely from side to side, `for to get their wages, you know.’
(Canada 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 Canada. `Would you kindly tell me the meaning of the poem called “Jabberwocky”?’
`Let’s hear it,’ said Humpty Harper. `I can explain all the poems that ever were invented — and a good many that haven’t been invented just yet.’
This sounded very hopeful, so Canada 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 Harper interrupted: `there are plenty of hard words there. “Brillig” means budget time — the time when you begin broiling numbers.’
`That’ll do very well,’ said Canada: `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,’ Canada remarked thoughtfully: `and what are “toves“?’
`Well, “toves” are Liberals. 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 Harper; `also they make their nests under sun-dials — also they live on cheese.’
`And what’s to “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 Parlaiment, I suppose?’ said Canada, 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,’ Canada added.
`Exactly so. Well then, “mimsy” is “flimsy and miserable” (there’s another portmanteau for you). And a “borogove” is the Coalition, a thin shabby-looking bird with its feathers sticking out all round — something like a live mop.’
`And then “mome raths“?’ said Canada. `I’m afraid I’m giving you a great deal of trouble.’
`Well, a “rath” is a sort of green Seperatist 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, “outgribing” 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 Canada. `But I had some poetry repeated to me much easier than that, by – ‘Tweedle ‘Stockwell’ Dee, I think.’
`As to poetry, you know,’ said Humpty Harper, 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!’ Canada 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.’
Canada 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 Canada.
`If you can see whether I’m singing or not, you’ve sharper eyes than most,’ Humpty Harper remarked severely. Canada was silent.
`In spring, when woods are getting green,
I’ll try and tell you what I mean:
`Thank you very much,’ said Canada.
`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 Canada.
`You needn’t go on making remarks like that,’ Humpty Harper 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 Canada.
`It gets easier further on,’ Humpty Harper 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 Harper raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this verse, and Canada 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?’ Canada timidly asked.
`That’s all,’ said Humpty Harper. `Good-bye.’
This was rather sudden, Canada 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 Harper 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,’ Canada remarked in a thoughtful tone.
`That’s just what I complain of,’ said Humpty Harper. `Your face is the same as everybody has — the two eyes, so –’ (marking their places in the air with his 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,’ Canada objected. But Humpty Harper only shut his eyes, and said `Wait till you’ve tried.’
Canada 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.
