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Chapter X Alice’s Assessment There seemed to be very little point in waiting any longer in the tea-room, so Alice opened its door and walked outside. The sea air was beautiful and fresh, and full as full of ozone, while the sun beat down upon her in a most delightful way. However, despite all this Alice was not feeling particularly happy with the day. For one thing, she was still a little annoyed at her sudden desertion by her tea companions, and for another, she was beginning to think that her quest for the Rabbit’s watch would never be over. “Come, Alice,” the girl said to herself. “If you don’t find the thing soon you never will. It must be nearly seventeen minutes past seven, and I am sure the pantomime has started by now, so where, oh where can it be?” Alice sat down on one of the pier’s benches, and screwed her eyes shut, and said to herself again and again: “Where is the watch? Where is the watch?” However, in spite of all her efforts, the fob simply refused to reveal itself, and she soon had to give that line of investigation entirely. “This is no good at all,” Alice chided herself out loud. She stood up purposefully (as if, by seeming to have some goal in mind, she could make it actually be true) and strode away down the pier. “Now, let us think, Dinah my dear,” she said, pretending that her cat were there to help in her quest. “Where would a watch hide itself? Or have you hidden it, puss? “Yes that must be it!,” the girl continued to herself, as she rounded the corner at the end of the pier. “You’ve hidden it from me, haven’t you? Now, just tell me, if you please, dear puss. Did you hide the watch?” “I am sure I did no such thing!” replied a beautiful voice, and Alice looked up into the most exquisite face she had ever seen. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Before her, in a large plant pot placed right at the pier’s end, there stood a slender, beautiful, rose bush. It was almost as tall as Alice itself, and its branches were perfectly formed, with a number of small, dark buds just waiting to flower. “What a beautiful creature,” Alice thought to herself, staring at the rose in awe. “Always assuming that I can call it a creature,” she continued. “Really, it’s a flower of course; but it must be a creature of some kind, if it can speak to me.” “Hidden indeed!” the Black Rose said. “I don’t know what you could be implying by that. I have never hidden anything in my life. I’m a good rose.” “I didn’t mean to suggest anything else,” Alice replied quickly, for fear that she really had hurt the Rose’s feelings (although she couldn’t help but think that, in fact, the Rose was quietly making fun of her). “I was simply talking to my cat, you see, or at least, I would have been had she been here.” “Cats!” the Rose declared. “Oh no! Oh no! I cannot stand cats!” “Oh dear,” Alice replied. “Dinah is such a wonderful cat, too. She washes herself perfectly, you see . . .” “Well,” the Rose declared, “I cannot bear the creatures, and there is no more to be said on the matter. Another cake, child?” “I don’t believe I’ve yet eaten a cake,” the girl replied, a little surprised by the Rose’s question. “Ah! Too bad,” the Rose said, waving in its branches a dainty eclair. “If only you had eaten a cake in the past, you should be able to have another now. Alas, you shall have to forego the pleasure.” “Oh, I didn’t mean that I had never had a cake,” began Alice; but it was too late, for the Rose had already eaten the eclair itself (by burying it in its roots, if you must know). “Then why did you say such a thing?” the Rose asked, in a voice that sounded as though it had a mouth full of crumbs. “Always tell the truth, is my advice. Never any less, and only as much more as time will allow.” “Can one tell more than the truth?” the girl asked. “Of course!” cried the Rose. “’Tis easy when one knows how. Why, some days I have only time to tell the exact truth. But on other days I have all the time in the world, and the things I say are one hundred times better than the truth!” The Rose seemed to laugh. “Why,” it said, “the things I say are so accurate I have to say them in French! So, tell as much of the truth as you possibly can, and stand up straight or your roots will wilt.” Alice stood immediately to attention, since she was eager to follow any advice the Rose had to give. “After all,” she said to herself, “the creature spouts such silly nonsense that it could almost have come from an adult!” Standing up straight, Alice could see a little further beyond the Rose. Behind it, and almost out of sight, there was a brightly coloured jay flitting from perch to post at the end of the pier. “Oh, I say,” she cried. “How beautiful it is!” “Just so,” agreed the Rose. “The Jay is a quite wonderful bird, as caring as it is handsome. You’re are bound to get on well with it; it’s almost as nice as the Wasp!” And as the Rose said this, Alice noticed that a wasp was, in fact, buzzing around in the background. It seemed to be taking great pains to stay out of the jay’s path; indeed, this latter had not yet noticed its presence at all - or, at least, it gave no such indication. “I dare say I shall like it enormously,” the girl replied, “if ever we should be introduced. However, I have far too much to do today, looking for the Rabbit’s watch.” “Ah, yes!” said the Rose. “The great quest! Have you made any progress?” “Not yet, I’m afraid,” sighed Alice for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I just do not know where to find the wretched thing.” “If I were you,” the Rose said, “I should try over there.” And it pointed with one of its buds towards a small theatre a little way down the pier. There was a billboard on the door, and on the board a poster which read:
“If I am ever to find what has happened to the Rabbit’s watch,” Alice said to herself, “then I shall surely find it in there.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she took her leave of the Black Rose (which hurried her along, after reminding her of the benefits of a rich top-soil) and ran over to the theatre’s entrance; and pausing only to wave a last good-bye to the beautiful flower, she stepped in through the door. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The theatre was dark and forbidding inside, and to begin with Alice was somewhat scared. However, her eyes soon became used to the dim light, and she was able to make her way up the aisle, and to as near the front as she could reach. The quest to find the Rabbit’s watch had obviously become very popular, for a good number of the seats were already filled with all manner of creatures, eager to discover the identity of the thief. Alice had to push past ostriches and sewing-machines, and even a deer (it had green eyes and no collar, and was making the most fearsome faces in its sleep) before she found a place to sit. Just as the girl sat down the curtains of the theatre’s little stage swept apart, to reveal a large table surrounded by a number of high-backed chairs. All of the chairs were empty, save the central one (which just happened to have the highest back of them all), in which sat a Judge1. She wore large, baggy trousers, and a huge and dusty wig which kept falling in front of her eyes and pushing her spectacles straight down her nose. Indeed, the Judge seemed to be in no position to judge anything, for she was constantly falling off the chair as she tried to catch her spectacles, and then crawling around under the table in a vain search for them. After three attempts, however, the audience was beginning to get a little restless, so the Judge clambered up onto the seat, with her wig still in her eyes, and loudly banged her gavel on the table. “Order!” she shrieked at the top of her voice, and banged the gavel again a couple of times for good measure. “Order!” she cried again. “The Case of the Theft of the White Rabbit’s Watch shall now have its preliminary hearing.” Immediately Pandemonium broke out in the theatre. All around Alice the creatures jumped up and down in their seats; some were applauding and cheering wildly (they seemed to think that the hearing had finished, and had been a marvellous show at that), while others ran back and forth between the seats throwing cream buns at each other. It was all Alice could do to cover her head in her hands and look up to the Judge, who she felt would soon restore order. However, the Judge just sat at her table beaming, obviously feeling that everything was going splendidly. “I declare!” said Alice to herself. “That Judge is going to do nothing about this fracas at all!” And without hesitation she ran up onto the stage, picked up the gavel, and started to bang it on the table for all she was worth. At once the creatures stopped their cheering and fighting and throwing, and turned to stare at the stage. 
“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” the Judge admonished Alice, grimacing in a fearful way. “Everything was going to plan. We shall have to do things the other way, now.” So saying, she stood up on her chair and shouted: “Call the White Rabbit!” “I’m already here,” the Rabbit replied. It had somehow appeared by Alice’s side when she wasn’t looking, and was now once more hopping up and down in a state of agitation. It’s rain-coat was in an even worse state than before, and its watch chain still hung forlornly from its waistcoat. “Good show,” the Judge said. “Are you going to be plaintiff?”2 “Certainly,” the White Rabbit replied. “I shall be the plainest tiff you have ever seen.” “Even better,” said the Judge. “Call Alice.” “Alice!” the White Rabbit shouted, even though it was standing right beside her. “Oh dear,” the girl thought to herself. “This is all beginning to feel rather familiar. I’m sure I’ve been here before.” However, rather than say anything out loud, she just curtseyed. “Come, child,” the Judge said. “Have you found the watch yet?” “I’m afraid not,” Alice replied. “Then you must be a piece of string!” the Judge cried, and she laughed so loudly that she immediately fell from her chair once more, and had to be helped back up. “Well, exactly what have you been doing?” snapped the White Rabbit. “By my best balloon! You had until seventeen minutes past seven to find the watch; it’s lucky for you that, without it, I have no idea whether that time has gone or not.” Alice frowned at the Rabbit (which cowered a little under the stare) and stamped her foot. “Really!” she declared. “I have been trying, you know. I’ve met all sorts of strange people, and had all sorts of adventures. Only, not one of them has been the slightest help.” “That’s always the way with them, you know,” the Judge sighed. “Oh well, one of them must have the watch. We shall just have to question them all.” “Quite right!” the Rabbit cried, and it jumped onto the table to call the creatures up. “Call the Butterfly!” it shouted, “and call the Ginger Cat! Call the Whether-girl and the Pianist! Call the Monk and the Friar, and the Hatter and the Hare! Call the Accountant and the Gypsy and the Bombay Duck! Call the creatures, all!” As the Rabbit shouted each name, a roar of applause swept through the audience, and the appropriate creature was prodded or pushed, or sometimes even thrown, up onto the stage. Each ran forward, and up the steps to the Judge’s table, and then stood sheepishly in the first available corner, pointing at its fellow creatures in turn and muttering: “He stole it!” Or: “She’s the one!” Or: “It’s that creature, there! The hair proves it!” To Alice’s horror, each of the creatures eventually came to the conclusion that it was she that had taken the watch. The Accountant, who was yet giggling from the escapades of the Major and the Miner, continually pointed at her (although he was still unable to say anything coherent); the Author and the Artist wandered around the stage, showing their book to all and sundry, as if it were some kind of evidence; and even the Wyvern stared at her coldly throughout. It was all becoming a little worrying for the girl. “I declare,” she said to herself. “It really will be too much, if the Rabbit considers me the culprit!” “The evidence shall now be considered,” the Judge said presently. “But no evidence has been given,” Alice said. “One can hardly consider something that doesn’t exist.” “Not so,” said the Camel from the other side of the stage. “I know any number of people who do nothing but think about mechanical brains, although not a one has ever been found.” This received rapturous applause from the audience, all but drowning the Camel’s final comment of: “From donkey-wells, the lot of them.” “Even so,” said Alice, “there is simply no evidence to consider.” She had been in trouble before, for reasons she knew were ill thought-out, and she was not prepared to be put in that position again. This time, the Judge just stared at her, desperately trying to think of some way to reply. However, she could not think of anything to say to the accusation, and instead turned on the Ballerina book-end, to shout in her angriest voice: “Shall I tell your mother that you’ll be late home for dinner?”3 The poor creature had no idea how to respond to this; but it did not seem to matter, for the Judge immediately banged her gavel on the table yet again. “One of you has the Rabbit’s watch, there is no doubt,” she declared. (Alice was not entirely sure how this fact had been established; however, the Judge was in no mood to be interrupted, so she did not have a chance to ask.) “We shall have to settle this,” the Judge continued, “by means of a Panic!” The audience greeted this suggestion with yet another round of applause, so the White Rabbit lined everybody up, side by side - including the Judge - and then stood watching them with a whistle between its lips. All the creatures started limbering up by jumping up and down, or jogging on the spot; and a few of them turned to each other to shake hands, and wish each other the best of luck. “Come,” said Alice to herself. “I am not at all certain that this will establish the thief at all!” But the Major was shaking her by one hand, and saying: “Best of luck, my child,” and the Miner was similarly shaking her other, and even the Judge patted her on the back and said: “Don’t worry child, I’m sure you are innocent! Just dance your hardest, and it will all come out in the wash.” At that moment Rabbit blew its whistle, and the Panic began. The music was once more provided by the Pianist book-end, who had very kindly written a quick symphony that morning, in case just such a need should arise. Luckily, it was the kind of music that could be played by pressing a single button; so, within seconds of the dance starting the Pianist was able to join in, and even when the music began to slow down, it was but the work of a moment for the Accountant or Whether-man to press the button again. This time, the Panic consisted of the creatures rushing from one end of the stage to the other as fast as they possibly could, and twisting around each other as they collided centre-stage. At first Alice danced with them; but soon she was far too tired, and just sat on one of the high-backed chairs. “Look at them!” she declared, puffing, as she watched the creatures jumping around the stage. “There goes the teapot; it’s run headlong into the Samovar. And there’s the clarinet, and there’s the Monk.” And indeed, there they were, dancing together for all they were worth. “I wonder which has the watch?” Alice asked herself. “I am sure the Judge is right; one of them must have it. But which?” And as she leaned closer, to get a better look, she thought she saw the shape of an hour-hand flash past. “I declare!” she cried. “The Rabbit’s watch! The Pianist has it!” But even as she said that, she saw another watch-face being carried elsewhere. “No, it’s the Camel that’s taken it!” she cried again, and then, as she saw the Reeve: “But he has one, also. And so does the Gypsy. There seem to be watches everywhere.” And so there did. Alice caught only brief glimpses, because the creatures seemed to be hiding the things from her; but as the music went on, getting faster and faster, the girl became more and more convinced that the watch was somewhere around. She stood up to get a better look at the creatures, which were now careering around the stage for all they were worth, and whirling like governors. “I’m certain of it!” Alice shouted, above the noise. “I’m sure I can find the Rabbit’s watch! Only, please STOP!” At once the music ceased, and the creatures stopped still as statues. And, sure enough, each was hiding something behind it; something round, and flat, and ticking, and just like the thing for which Alice had been searching all afternoon. “Oh dear,” Alice cried. “I was only looking for one watch, but I declare! Why, each and every one of you is holding a— Chapter IX - A Bill for a Bombay Duck Chapter IX - A Bill for a Bombay Duck | Chapter XI - Watch! Chapter XI - Watch! |
And there, on the top of the bush’s central trunk, was the single open bloom; a magnificent array of jet-black petals, which seemed to be staring at Alice all the while.
This set the girl to wondering whether the rose really had spoken, or whether she had just dreamt it, until it interrupted her reverie once more.