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Without rest or pause—while those frumious jaws

Went savagely snapping around—

He skipped and he hopped, and he floundered and flopped,

Till fainting he fell to the ground.

The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared

Led on by that fear-stricken yell:

And the Bellman remarked “It is just as I feared!”

And solemnly tolled on his bell.

He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace

The least likeness to what he had been:

While so great was his fright that his waistcoat turned white—

A wonderful thing to be seen!

To the horror of all who were present that day.

He uprose in full evening dress,

And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say

What his tongue could no longer express.

Down he sank in a chair—ran his hands through his hair—

And chanted in mimsiest tones

Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity,

While he rattled a couple of bones.

“Leave him here to his fate—it is getting so late!”

The Bellman exclaimed in a fright.

“We have lost half the day. Any further delay,

And we sha’n’t catch a Snark before night!”

Fit the Eighth:

The Vanishing

THEY sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;

They pursued it with forks and hope;

They threatened its life with a railway-share;

They charmed it with smiles and soap.

They shuddered to think that the chase might fail,

And the Beaver, excited at last,

Went bounding along on the tip of its tail,

For the daylight was nearly past.

“There is Thingumbob shouting!” the Bellman said,

“He is shouting like mad, only hark!

He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,

He has certainly found a Snark!”

They gazed in delight, while the Butcher exclaimed

“He was always a desperate wag!”

They beheld him—their Baker—their hero unnamed—

On the top of a neighboring crag,

Erect and sublime, for one moment of time.

In the next, that wild figure they saw

(As if stung by a spasm) plunge into a chasm,

While they waited and listened in awe.

“It’s a Snark!” was the sound that first came to their ears,

And seemed almost too good to be true.

Then followed a torrent of laughter and cheers:

Then the ominous words “It’s a Boo—”

Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air

A weary and wandering sigh

Then sounded like “—jum!” but the others declare

It was only a breeze that went by.

They hunted till darkness came on, but they found

Not a button, or feather, or mark,

By which they could tell that they stood on the ground

Where the Baker had met with the Snark.

In the midst of the word he was trying to say,

In the midst of his laughter and glee,

He had softly and suddenly vanished away—-

For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.

THE END

PART XI

REFLECTIONS ON THE SNARK

By Kent David Kelly

DESPITE ITS compelling intricacies and the incessant drive of its general narrative, The Hunting of the Snark is famous for being perfectly impenetrable. In other words, no one really knows what is means. The author pointedly refused to ever explain the work, other than to praise those readers whose interpretations he liked. (Carroll’s own favorite interpretation by someone else is that the poem is about the pursuit of happiness.)

As such, my own analysis which appears here is wide open to response and counter. Given similar themes which arise in the “Alice” stories, and the fact that many of the in-jokes in his work draw references from Carroll’s diaries and the events in his life, I believe I have a fairly solid case for the conclusions I have drawn. By this time, however, you as the reader should be quite adept at discerning Carroll’s veiled intents and purposes on your own. You then, good reader, are quite welcome to discover explanations better than mine wherever you wish!

Introductory Materials

The Front Cover Illustration: Henry Holiday’s illustration for the front cover of the first edition shows the Bellman, surrounding by a nighttime swathe of stars, perched on the mast and ringing his bell.

On the Nature of Agony: It should