MALICE
IN KULTURLAND
BY
HORACE WYATT
_With Illustrations by W. TELL_
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON & CO.
681 FIFTH AVENUE
PUBLISHED 1917,
BY E. P. DUTTON & CO.
Printed in the United States of America
MALICE IN KULTURLAND
CHAPTER I.
THE CHANGE.
Of course, it was very unfortunate that Alice should be ill at all, and
it was certainly particularly unlucky that she should have chosen the
time when the summer holidays were just going to begin.
It was one lovely day towards the end of July when she first had a bad
headache and a hot tongue, and the doctor came and said that she was
to stay in her room as “he was not sure,” but would come again next
day. It was terribly dull, though she had lots of books and papers to
read. Alice liked papers best, but really there was nothing much in
them just then, except a very long account of a trial in France, and a
lot of speeches about “Home Rule” and “Exclusion” and other things that
she didn’t understand. However, she managed to find out that everyone
was very concerned about the possibility of civil war in Ireland, the
question of whether people in a really good social position ought not
to be allowed to shoot editors if they wanted to, and particularly the
falling off of gates at county cricket matches, and the difficulty of
finding a first-class English heavyweight boxer. It was on account
of these last two troubles that most of the papers agreed that the
British Empire had begun to decline. There was a general impression
that the modern Englishman had no brains and less pluck, and would be
quite useless in an emergency. This was a bad look-out in itself, and
the papers pointed out that what made things worse was the horrible
depravity of our political leaders. Between them, they proved beyond a
doubt that our statesmen of all parties were quacks and liars, watching
only their own interests, and never for a moment considering those of
the nation.
Alice was rather puzzled to know why, in that case, the nation chose
such people to look after its affairs, but she felt much too ill to
try and think it out. She had a vague recollection of being put to
bed, and of someone talking about “fever,” and “delirious,” and “very
bad.” She thought it was silly of them to put her to bed, because she
had heard that most people die in their beds. She tried to explain that
it would be safer for her to stop up, but nobody took any notice. Then
everything began to go round and round, and to turn upside down and
inside out, and some things got bigger and others smaller, until it
made her head ache to look at them, and she shut her eyes and forgot
about everything.
When she woke up again she felt very lazy and couldn’t remember just
at first what had happened. “I suppose it was because I was ill,” she
thought, “that everything seemed so queer! Wouldn’t it be funny if
everything _really_ got topsy-turvy, and lost its original proportions!
Then everyone, instead of being friendly, would want to fight everyone
else! And there would be uncivil wars instead of civil ones! And people
we thought were nice would turn out to be horrid! And people we thought
were horrid would turn out to be nice! And I _do_ wonder how it would
all end!”
“Wait and see!” said a solemn voice quite close to her ear. Alice
was very startled, and opened her eyes hurriedly. She found she was
sitting in an easy chair in a big garden with a lot of unfamiliar
looking animals in it, and just opposite to her was a queer bird of a
sort she had never seen before.
“Did you speak?” asked Alice.
“The answer to the question is in the affirmative,” announced the bird
very deliberately.
“Might I ask what sort of a bird you are?” Alice inquired.
[Illustration: _“Might I ask what sort of bird you are?” Alice
inquired._]
“You might, and on the other hand you might not,” said the Bird very
slowly. “As a matter of fact, I am a Dodo. I used to call myself a
Liberal, some other people used to call me a Radical, and plenty of
others used to call me everything they could lay their tongues to.”
“But I thought the Dodo was extinct,” said Alice.
“So it is,” said the Bird, “for the present, quite extinct. And there’s
another extinct party somewhere about the garden. He’s called a Lory or
a Tory, I forget which, and at the present moment he’s over there doing
spade work. He’s busy burying the hatchet. We’re _very_ friendly, you
know?”
“Indeed!” said Alice politely, “I thought you were great enemies.”
“So we were, so we were,” said the Dodo. “But now everything is
different; we have no time to quarrel.”
“Not even about Ireland?” asked Alice.
“Ireland--now let me see,” said the Dodo. “Ah, yes,” he added after a
pause; “now you mention it, there was some slight bickering in that
quarter. I don’t clearly remember what the trouble was; but, anyhow,
it’s all right now.”
“How is that?” asked Alice.
“It’s because of the war,” the Dodo explained. “I will tell you all
about it in the simplest possible language. Listen carefully, and don’t
interrupt--
[Illustration:
“_The Kaiserhog, with eyes of flame,
Came prumpling through the tulgey wood_”
]
“_’Twas dertag, and the slithy Huns
Did sturm and sturgel through the sludge;
All bulgous were the blunderguns,
And the bosch bombs outbludge._
“_‘Beware the Ulsterman, my son--
The jaws that bite at kin and kith;
Beware the Carsonclan, and shun
The frumious Ridersmith._’
“_He put his vetal schemes in hand;
Long time the welcome end he sought;
So rested he by the Redmond Tree,
And stood awhile in thought._
“_And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Kaiserhog, with eyes of flame,
Came prumpling through the tulgey wood,
And blasphied as he came!_
“_One, two! Quick, quick! In half a tick,
The vetal schemes split far and wide.
Orange and green were promptly seen
Advancing side by side._
“_‘And is the Kaiserhog at large?
Then show him to your blarney boy!
Oh, frabjous day! Hurroo! Hurray!’
They chortled in their joy._
“_’Twas dertag, and the slithy Huns
Did sturm and sturgel through the sludge;
All bulgous were the blunderguns,
And the bosch bombs outbludge._”
“Thank you very much,” said Alice; “it was kind of you to explain it to
me. But it’s just a _little_ difficult to understand, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps so,” said the Dodo. “You see, so many words have lost all
their original meaning. ‘Treaty,’ for example, or ‘culture’! So we have
to make up new ones that never meant anything before.”
“What is bulgous?” Alice asked.
“Ok, that’s easy,” said the Dodo. “You know that ‘slithy’ is a mixture
of ‘lithe’ and ‘slimy’; well, ‘bulgous’ is a mixture of ‘bulky’ and
‘tremenjous’; and ‘outbludge’ is what a bomb does; and ‘vetal’ is
either ‘vital’ or ‘venal,’ according to your politics; and ‘prumpling’
is ‘proud and trampling’; and all the rest is quite simple.”
“But has _everything_ changed into something different?” Alice asked.
“_Nearly_ everything,” said the Dodo. “If you look over there, you’ll
see a Garvin with its arm round a Winston’s neck. That’s new, isn’t
it? And _there’s_ a militant suffragette with her mouth shut. That’s
new, isn’t it? And the Lory has given up playing down the bonar law,
and says, ‘Hear, hear!’ whenever _I_ speak. That’s new, isn’t it? And
all the papers say what their readers think about the Kaiser, instead
of what they think the Government would like the Kaiser to think the
papers think their readers think. And _that’s_ new, isn’t it? And if
you tried to say anything, or to think about anything, you’d find it
was only something to do with the war, after all.”
“Should I?” said Alice, very puzzled.
“Certainly!” said the Dodo. “Try it for yourself. Repeat ‘How doth the
little busy bee’.”
Alice began:--
“_How doth the German Press Bureau
Improve each shining tale,
Till Victory’s unceasing flow
Seems ‘very like a whale!’_
“_How thick its yarns--and yet how thin!
How wide it spreads its views,
And takes the simple public in
With gently garbled news._”
“Well?” said the Dodo.
“Yes, it _does_ seem different,” Alice admitted doubtfully.
“Try again,” said the Dodo. “Repeat ‘There’s a home for little
children’.”
Alice thought for a moment, and repeated:--
“_There’s a home for little William
Beyond the deep blue sea,
Where everything is placid--
Yes, as placid as can be._
“_Where life is one bright circle
Of sunny summer days,
And none will seek to interfere
With Willie’s peaceful ways._
“_Oh, happy St. Helena,
When all is calm and still,
And your lone shores provide the cheque
To pay our little bill!_”
“It _is_ different!” exclaimed Alice. “Quite different! But why?”
“It’s because of everything that’s happening,” said the Dodo. “It’s
the fault of the Blonde Beast, and Army-Balmy, and a lot more of them,
especially the Kaiserhog.”
“And where do all these queer things live?” Alice asked. “Can I _see_
them?”
“Why certainly,” said the Dodo, “come with me.” Alice got up, and was
pleased to find that she was quite well and strong again. As they
walked across the grass the Dodo went on--
“They are all in the wood,” he said, “right in the wood. And what’s
more, I don’t think they can get out of the wood. That’s the way,” he
added, pointing to a narrow path among the trees, “and now I must leave
you. I have some business to attend to.”
Alice said “good-bye” very politely, and went on into the wood. Just
as she reached a corner in the path she looked back and saw the Dodo
trotting up to the Lory. “Bonar, dear,” she heard him say, “I want to
consult you about something.” “Yes, Herbert darling,” said the Lory,
“and I’m sure we shall agree about it,” and they went off arm in arm.