The Water-Babies

But he never heeded; for out of the dust flew a bat, and the giant had him in a moment.

“Dear me!  This is even more important!  Here is a cognate species to that which Macgilliwaukie Brown insists is confined to the Buddhist temples of Little Thibet; and now when I look at it, it may be only a variety produced by difference of climate!”

And having bagged his bat, up he got, and on he went; while all the people ran, being in none the better humour for having their temple smashed for the sake of three obscure species of Podurella, and a Buddhist bat.

“Well,” thought Tom, “this is a very pretty quarrel, with a good deal to be said on both sides.  But it is no business of mine.”

And no more it was, because he was a water-baby, and had the original sow by the right ear; which you will never have, unless you be a baby, whether of the water, the land, or the air, matters not, provided you can only keep on continually being a baby.

So the giant ran round after the people, and the people ran round after the giant, and they are running, unto this day for aught I know, or do not know; and will run till either he, or they, or both, turn into little children.  And then, as Shakespeare says (and therefore it must be true) -

“Jack shall have GillNought shall go illThe man shall have his mare again, and all go well.”

Then Tom came to a very famous island, which was called, in the days of the great traveller Captain Gulliver, the Isle of Laputa.  But Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid has named it over again the Isle of Tomtoddies, all heads and no bodies.

And when Tom came near it, he heard such a grumbling and grunting and growling and wailing and weeping and whining that he thought people must be ringing little pigs, or cropping puppies’ ears, or drowning kittens: but when he came nearer still, he began to hear words among the noise; which was the Tomtoddies’ song which they sing morning and evening, and all night too, to their great idol Examination -

“I can’t learn my lesson: the examiner’s coming!”

And that was the only song which they knew.

And when Tom got on shore the first thing he saw was a great pillar, on one side of which was inscribed, “Playthings not allowed here;” at which he was so shocked that he would not stay to see what was written on the other side.  Then he looked round for the people of the island: but instead of men, women, and children, he found nothing but turnips and radishes, beet and mangold wurzel, without a single green leaf among them, and half of them burst and decayed, with toad-stools growing out of them.  Those which were left began crying to Tom, in half a dozen different languages at once, and all of them badly spoken, “I can’t learn my lesson; do come and help me!”  And one cried, “Can you show me how to extract this square root?”

And another, “Can you tell me the distance between α Lyrae and β Camelopardis?”

And another, “What is the latitude and longitude of Snooksville, in Noman’s County, Oregon, U.S.?”

And another, “What was the name of Mutius Scaevola’s thirteenth cousin’s grandmother’s maid’s cat?”

And another, “How long would it take a school-inspector of average activity to tumble head over heels from London to York?”

And another, “Can you tell me the name of a place that nobody ever heard of, where nothing ever happened, in a country which has not been discovered yet?”

And another, “Can you show me how to correct this hopelessly corrupt passage of Graidiocolosyrtus Tabenniticus, on the cause why crocodiles have no tongues?”

And so on, and so on, and so on, till one would have thought they were all trying for tide-waiters’ places, or cornetcies in the heavy dragoons.

“And what good on earth will it do you if I did tell you?” quoth Tom.

Well, they didn’t know that: all they knew was the examiner was coming.

Then Tom stumbled on the hugest and softest nimblecomequick turnip you ever saw filling a hole in a crop of swedes, and it cried to him, “Can you tell me anything at all about anything you like?”

“About what?” says Tom.

“About anything you like; for as fast as I learn things I forget them again.  So my mamma says that my intellect is not adapted for methodic science, and says that I must go in for general information.”

Tom told him that he did not know general information, nor any officers in the army; only he had a friend once that went for a drummer: but he could tell him a great many strange things which he had seen in his travels.

So he told him prettily enough, while the poor turnip listened very carefully; and the more he listened, the more he forgot, and the more water ran out of him.

Tom thought he was crying: but it was only his poor brains running away, from being worked so hard; and as Tom talked, the unhappy turnip streamed down all over with juice, and split and shrank till nothing was left of him but rind and water; whereat Tom ran away in a fright, for he thought he might be taken up for killing the turnip.

But, on the contrary, the turnip’s parents were highly delighted, and considered him a saint and a martyr, and put up a long inscription over his tomb about his wonderful talents, early development, and unparalleled precocity.  Were they not a foolish couple?  But there was a still more foolish couple next to them, who were beating a wretched little radish, no bigger than my thumb, for sullenness and obstinacy and wilful stupidity, and never knew that the reason why it couldn’t learn or hardly even speak was, that there was a great worm inside it eating out all its brains.  But even they are no foolisher than some hundred score of papas and mammas, who fetch the rod when they ought to fetch a new toy, and send to the dark cupboard instead of to the doctor.

Tom was so puzzled and frightened with all he saw, that he was longing to ask the meaning of it; and at last he stumbled over a respectable old stick lying half covered with earth.  But a very stout and worthy stick it was, for it belonged to good Roger Ascham in old time, and had carved on its head King Edward the Sixth, with the Bible in his hand.

“You see,” said the stick, “there were as pretty little children once as you could wish to see, and might have been so still if they had been only left to grow up like human beings, and then handed over to me; but their foolish fathers and mothers, instead of letting them pick flowers, and make dirt-pies, and get birds’ nests, and dance round the gooseberry bush, as little children should, kept them always at lessons, working, working, working, learning week-day lessons all week-days, and Sunday lessons all Sunday, and weekly examinations every Saturday, and monthly examinations every month, and yearly examinations every year, everything seven times over, as if once was not enough, and enough as good as a feast—till their brains grew big, and their bodies grew small, and they were all changed into turnips, with little but water inside; and still their foolish parents actually pick the leaves off them as fast as they grow, lest they should have anything green about them.”

“Ah!” said Tom, “if dear Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby knew of it she would send them a lot of tops, and balls, and marbles, and ninepins, and make them all as jolly as sand-boys.”

“It would be no use,” said the stick.  “They can’t play now, if they tried.  Don’t you see how their legs have turned to roots and grown into the ground, by never taking any exercise, but sapping and moping always in the same place?  But here comes the Examiner-of-all-Examiners.  So you had better get away, I warn you, or he will examine you and your dog into the bargain, and set him to examine all the other dogs, and you to examine all the other water-babies.  There is no escaping out of his hands, for his nose is nine thousand miles long, and can go down chimneys, and through keyholes, upstairs, downstairs, in my lady’s chamber, examining all little boys, and the little boys’ tutors likewise.  But when he is thrashed—so Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid has promised me—I shall have the thrashing of him: and if I don’t lay it on with a will it’s a pity.”

Tom went off: but rather slowly and surlily; for he was somewhat minded to face this same Examiner-of-all-Examiners, who came striding among the poor turnips, binding heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and laying them on little children’s shoulders, like the Scribes and Pharisees of old, and not touching the same with one of his fingers; for he had plenty of money, and a fine house to live in, and so forth; which was more than the poor little turnips had.

But when he got near, he looked so big and burly and dictatorial, and shouted so loud to Tom, to come and be examined, that Tom ran for his life, and the dog too.  And really it was time; for the poor turnips, in their hurry and fright, crammed themselves so fast to be ready for the Examiner, that they burst and popped by dozens all round him, till the place sounded like Aldershot on a field-day, and Tom thought he should be blown into the air, dog and all.

As he went down to the shore he passed the poor turnip’s new tomb.  But Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid had taken away the epitaph about talents and precocity and development, and put up one of her own instead which Tom thought much more sensible:-

“Instruction sore long time I bore,And cramming was in vain;Till heaven did please my woes to easeWith water on the brain.”

So Tom jumped into the sea, and swam on his way, singing:-

“Farewell, Tomtoddies all; I thank my starsThat nought I know save those three royal r’s:Reading and riting sure, with rithmetick,Will help a lad of sense through thin and thick.”

Whereby you may see that Tom was no poet: but no more was John Bunyan, though he was as wise a man as you will meet in a month of Sundays.

And next he came to Oldwivesfabledom, where the folks were all heathens, and worshipped a howling ape.  And there he found a little boy sitting in the middle of the road, and crying bitterly.

“What are you crying for?” said Tom.

“Because I am not as frightened as I could wish to be.”

“Not frightened?  You are a queer little chap: but, if you want to be frightened, here goes—Boo!”

“Ah,” said the little boy, “that is very kind of you; but I don’t feel that it has made any impression.”

Tom offered to upset him, punch him, stamp on him, fettle him over the head with a brick, or anything else whatsoever which would give him the slightest comfort.

But he only thanked Tom very civilly, in fine long words which he had heard other folk use, and which therefore, he thought were fit and proper to use himself; and cried on till his papa and mamma came, and sent off for the Powwow man immediately.  And a very good-natured gentleman and lady they were, though they were heathens; and talked quite pleasantly to Tom about his travels, till the Powwow man arrived, with his thunderbox under his arm.

And a well-fed, ill-favoured gentleman he was, as ever served Her Majesty at Portland.  Tom was a little frightened at first; for he thought it was Grimes.  But he soon saw his mistake: for Grimes always looked a man in the face; and this fellow never did.  And when he spoke, it was fire and smoke; and when he sneezed, it was squibs and crackers; and when he cried (which he did whenever it paid him), it was boiling pitch; and some of it was sure to stick.

“Here we are again!” cried he, like the clown in a pantomime.  “So you can’t feel frightened, my little dear—eh?  I’ll do that for you.  I’ll make an impression on you!  Yah!  Boo!  Whirroo!  Hullabaloo!”

And he rattled, thumped, brandished his thunder-box, yelled, shouted, raved, roared, stamped, and danced corrobory like any black fellow; and then he touched a spring in the thunderbox, and out popped turnip-ghosts and magic-lanthorns and pasteboard bogies and spring-heeled Jacks, and sallaballas, with such a horrid din, clatter, clank, roll, rattle, and roar, that the little boy turned up the whites of his eyes, and fainted right away.

And at that his poor heathen papa and mamma were as much delighted as if they had found a gold mine; and fell down upon their knees before the Powwow man, and gave him a palanquin with a pole of solid silver and curtains of cloth of gold; and carried him about in it on their own backs: but as soon as they had taken him up, the pole stuck to their shoulders, and they could not set him down any more, but carried him on willynilly, as Sinbad carried the old man of the sea: which was a pitiable sight to see; for the father was a very brave officer, and wore two swords and a blue button; and the mother was as pretty a lady as ever had pinched feet like a Chinese.  But you see, they had chosen to do a foolish thing just once too often; so, by the laws of Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid, they had to go on doing it whether they chose or not, till the coming of the Cocqcigrues.

Ah! don’t you wish that some one would go and convert those poor heathens, and teach them not to frighten their little children into fits?

“Now, then,” said the Powwow man to Tom, “wouldn’t you like to be frightened, my little dear?  For I can see plainly that you are a very wicked, naughty, graceless, reprobate boy.”

“You’re another,” quoth Tom, very sturdily.  And when the man ran at him, and cried “Boo!”  Tom ran at him in return, and cried “Boo!” likewise, right in his face, and set the little dog upon him; and at his legs the dog went.

At which, if you will believe it, the fellow turned tail, thunderbox and all, with a “Woof!” like an old sow on the common; and ran for his life, screaming, “Help! thieves! murder! fire!  He is going to kill me!  I am a ruined man!  He will murder me; and break, burn, and destroy my precious and invaluable thunderbox; and then you will have no more thunder-showers in the land.  Help! help! help!”

At which the papa and mamma and all the people of Oldwivesfabledom flew at Tom, shouting, “Oh, the wicked, impudent, hard-hearted, graceless boy!  Beat him, kick him, shoot him, drown him, hang him, burn him!” and so forth: but luckily they had nothing to shoot, hang, or burn him with, for the fairies had hid all the killing-tackle out of the way a little while before; so they could only pelt him with stones; and some of the stones went clean through him, and came out the other side.  But he did not mind that a bit; for the holes closed up again as fast as they were made, because he was a water-baby.  However, he was very glad when he was safe out of the country, for the noise there made him all but deaf.

Then he came to a very quiet place, called Leaveheavenalone.  And there the sun was drawing water out of the sea to make steam-threads, and the wind was twisting them up to make cloud-patterns, till they had worked between them the loveliest wedding veil of Chantilly lace, and hung it up in their own Crystal Palace for any one to buy who could afford it; while the good old sea never grudged, for she knew they would pay her back honestly.  So the sun span, and the wind wove, and all went well with the great steam-loom; as is likely, considering—and considering—and considering -

And at last, after innumerable adventures, each more wonderful than the last, he saw before him a huge building, much bigger, and—what is most surprising—a little uglier than a certain new lunatic asylum, but not built quite of the same materials.  None of it, at least—or, indeed, for aught that I ever saw, any part of any other building whatsoever—is cased with nine-inch brick inside and out, and filled up with rubble between the walls, in order that any gentleman who has been confined during Her Majesty’s pleasure may be unconfined during his own pleasure, and take a walk in the neighbouring park to improve his spirits, after an hour’s light and wholesome labour with his dinner-fork or one of the legs of his iron bedstead.  No.  The walls of this building were built on an entirely different principle, which need not be described, as it has not yet been discovered.

Tom walked towards this great building, wondering what it was, and having a strange fancy that he might find Mr. Grimes inside it, till he saw running toward him, and shouting “Stop!” three or four people, who, when they came nearer, were nothing else than policemen’s truncheons, running along without legs or arms.

Tom was not astonished.  He was long past that.  Besides, he had seen the naviculae in the water move nobody knows how, a hundred times, without arms, or legs, or anything to stand in their stead.  Neither was he frightened for he had been doing no harm.

So he stopped; and, when the foremost truncheon came up and asked his business, he showed Mother Carey’s pass; and the truncheon looked at it in the oddest fashion; for he had one eye in the middle of his upper end, so that when he looked at anything, being quite stiff, he had to slope himself, and poke himself, till it was a wonder why he did not tumble over; but, being quite full of the spirit of justice (as all policemen, and their truncheons, ought to be), he was always in a position of stable equilibrium, whichever way he put himself.

“All right—pass on,” said he at last.  And then he added: “I had better go with you, young man.”  And Tom had no objection, for such company was both respectable and safe; so the truncheon coiled its thong neatly round its handle, to prevent tripping itself up—for the thong had got loose in running—and marched on by Tom’s side.

“Why have you no policeman to carry you?” asked Tom, after a while.

“Because we are not like those clumsy-made truncheons in the land-world, which cannot go without having a whole man to carry them about.  We do our own work for ourselves; and do it very well, though I say it who should not.”

“Then why have you a thong to your handle?” asked Tom.

“To hang ourselves up by, of course, when we are off duty.”

Tom had got his answer, and had no more to say, till they came up to the great iron door of the prison.  And there the truncheon knocked twice, with its own head.

A wicket in the door opened, and out looked a tremendous old brass blunderbuss charged up to the muzzle with slugs, who was the porter; and Tom started back a little at the sight of him.

“What case is this?” he asked in a deep voice, out of his broad bell mouth.

“If you please, sir, it is no case; only a young gentleman from her ladyship, who wants to see Grimes, the master-sweep.”

“Grimes?” said the blunderbuss.  And he pulled in his muzzle, perhaps to look over his prison-lists.

“Grimes is up chimney No. 345,” he said from inside.  “So the young gentleman had better go on to the roof.”

Tom looked up at the enormous wall, which seemed at least ninety miles high, and wondered how he should ever get up: but, when he hinted that to the truncheon, it settled the matter in a moment.  For it whisked round, and gave him such a shove behind as sent him up to the roof in no time, with his little dog under his arm.

And there he walked along the leads, till he met another truncheon, and told him his errand.

“Very good,” it said.  “Come along: but it will be of no use.  He is the most unremorseful, hard-hearted, foul-mouthed fellow I have in charge; and thinks about nothing but beer and pipes, which are not allowed here, of course.”

So they walked along over the leads, and very sooty they were, and Tom thought the chimneys must want sweeping very much.  But he was surprised to see that the soot did not stick to his feet, or dirty them in the least.  Neither did the live coals, which were lying about in plenty, burn him; for, being a water-baby, his radical humours were of a moist and cold nature, as you may read at large in Lemnius, Cardan, Van Helmont, and other gentlemen, who knew as much as they could, and no man can know more.

And at last they came to chimney No. 345.  Out of the top of it, his head and shoulders just showing, stuck poor Mr. Grimes, so sooty, and bleared, and ugly, that Tom could hardly bear to look at him.  And in his mouth was a pipe; but it was not a-light; though he was pulling at it with all his might.

“Attention, Mr. Grimes,” said the truncheon; “here is a gentleman come to see you.”

But Mr. Grimes only said bad words; and kept grumbling, “My pipe won’t draw.  My pipe won’t draw.”

“Keep a civil tongue, and attend!” said the truncheon; and popped up just like Punch, hitting Grimes such a crack over the head with itself, that his brains rattled inside like a dried walnut in its shell.  He tried to get his hands out, and rub the place: but he could not, for they were stuck fast in the chimney.  Now he was forced to attend.

“Hey!” he said, “why, it’s Tom!  I suppose you have come here to laugh at me, you spiteful little atomy?”

Tom assured him he had not, but only wanted to help him.

“I don’t want anything except beer, and that I can’t get; and a light to this bothering pipe, and that I can’t get either.”

“I’ll get you one,” said Tom; and he took up a live coal (there were plenty lying about) and put it to Grimes’ pipe: but it went out instantly.

“It’s no use,” said the truncheon, leaning itself up against the chimney and looking on.  “I tell you, it is no use.  His heart is so cold that it freezes everything that comes near him.  You will see that presently, plain enough.”

“Oh, of course, it’s my fault.  Everything’s always my fault,” said Grimes.  “Now don’t go to hit me again” (for the truncheon started upright, and looked very wicked); “you know, if my arms were only free, you daren’t hit me then.”

The truncheon leant back against the chimney, and took no notice of the personal insult, like a well-trained policeman as it was, though he was ready enough to avenge any transgression against morality or order.

“But can’t I help you in any other way?  Can’t I help you to get out of this chimney?” said Tom.

“No,” interposed the truncheon; “he has come to the place where everybody must help themselves; and he will find it out, I hope, before he has done with me.”

“Oh, yes,” said Grimes, “of course it’s me.  Did I ask to be brought here into the prison?  Did I ask to be set to sweep your foul chimneys?  Did I ask to have lighted straw put under me to make me go up?  Did I ask to stick fast in the very first chimney of all, because it was so shamefully clogged up with soot?  Did I ask to stay here—I don’t know how long—a hundred years, I do believe, and never get my pipe, nor my beer, nor nothing fit for a beast, let alone a man?”

“No,” answered a solemn voice behind.  “No more did Tom, when you behaved to him in the very same way.”

It was Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid.  And, when the truncheon saw her, it started bolt upright—Attention!—and made such a low bow, that if it had not been full of the spirit of justice, it must have tumbled on its end, and probably hurt its one eye.  And Tom made his bow too.

“Oh, ma’am,” he said, “don’t think about me; that’s all past and gone, and good times and bad times and all times pass over.  But may not I help poor Mr. Grimes?  Mayn’t I try and get some of these bricks away, that he may move his arms?”

“You may try, of course,” she said.

So Tom pulled and tugged at the bricks: but he could not move one.  And then he tried to wipe Mr. Grimes’ face: but the soot would not come off.

“Oh, dear!” he said.  “I have come all this way, through all these terrible places, to help you, and now I am of no use at all.”

“You had best leave me alone,” said Grimes; “you are a good-natured forgiving little chap, and that’s truth; but you’d best be off.  The hail’s coming on soon, and it will beat the eyes out of your little head.”

“What hail?”

“Why, hail that falls every evening here; and, till it comes close to me, it’s like so much warm rain: but then it turns to hail over my head, and knocks me about like small shot.”

“That hail will never come any more,” said the strange lady.  “I have told you before what it was.  It was your mother’s tears, those which she shed when she prayed for you by her bedside; but your cold heart froze it into hail.  But she is gone to heaven now, and will weep no more for her graceless son.”

Then Grimes was silent awhile; and then he looked very sad.

“So my old mother’s gone, and I never there to speak to her!  Ah! a good woman she was, and might have been a happy one, in her little school there in Vendale, if it hadn’t been for me and my bad ways.”

“Did she keep the school in Vendale?” asked Tom.  And then he told Grimes all the story of his going to her house, and how she could not abide the sight of a chimney-sweep, and then how kind she was, and how he turned into a water-baby.