If — and the thing is wildly possible — the charge of writing

nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but

instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line (in

p.4)

"Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes."

In view of this painful possibility, I will not (as I might) appeal

indignantly to my other writings as a proof that I am incapable of such a

deed: I will not (as I might) point to the strong moral purpose of this

poem itself, to the arithmetical principles so cautiously inculcated in

it, or to its noble teachings in Natural History — I will take the more

prosaic course of simply explaining how it happened.

The Bellman, who was almost morbidly sensitive about appearances,

used to have the bowsprit unshipped once or twice a week to be

revarnished, and it more than once happened, when the time came for

replacing it, that no one on board could remember which end of the ship it

belonged to. They knew it was not of the slightest use to appeal to the

Bellman about it — he would only refer to his Naval Code, and read out in

pathetic tones Admiralty Instructions which none of them had ever been

able to understand — so it generally ended in its being fastened on,

anyhow, across the rudder. The helmsman used to stand by with tears in his

eyes; he knew it was all wrong, but alas! Rule 42 of the Code, "No one

shall speak to the Man at the Helm", had been completed by the Bellman

himself with the words "and the Man at the Helm shall speak to no one." So

remonstrance was impossible, and no steering could be done till the next

varnishing day. During these bewildering intervals the ship usually sailed

backwards.

As this poem is to some extent connected with the lay of the

Jabberwock, let me take this opportunity of answering a question that has

often been asked me, how to pronounce "slithy toves." The "i" in "slithy"

is long, as in "writhe"; and "toves" is pronounced so as to rhyme with

"groves." Again, the first "o" in "borogoves" is pronounced like the "o"

in "borrow." I have heard people try to give it the sound of the "o" in

"worry. Such is Human Perversity.

This also seems a fitting occasion to notice the other hard works in

that poem. Humpty-Dumpty's theory, of two meanings packed into one word

like a portmanteau, seems to me the right explanation for all.

For instance, take the two words "fuming" and "furious." Make up your

mind that you will say both words, but leave it unsettled which you will

say first. Now open your mouth and speak. If your thoughts incline ever so

little towards "fuming," you will say "fuming-furious;" if they turn, by

even a hair's breadth, towards "furious," you will say "furious-fuming;"

but if you have the rarest of gifts, a perfectly balanced mind, you will

say "frumious."

Supposing that, when Pistol uttered the well-known words -

"Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!"

Justice Shallow had felt certain that it was either William or

Richard, but had not been able to settle which, so that he could not

possibly say either name before the other, can it be doubted that, rather

than die, he would have gasped out "Rilchiam!"