Schwibbins Travels, Part 1
CHAPTER 1
The Author giveth some account of himself; his first inducements to travel. He is shipwrecked, and swims for his life; gets safe on shoar in the country of Lóreal.
My father owned a small estate in Devonshire. I was the last of five sons. My father’s wealth was not great, but at the age of fourteen, he sent me to Emanuel College in Cambridge. I resided there three years, after which I could no longer support myself with my scanty allowence.
In Cambridge I became acquainted with an elderly gentleman by the name of Lemuel Gulliver. The majority of my neighbours thought him insane, for he was often found muttering to himself about Yahoos and other nonsensical things.
Upon my withdrawal from the University, Mr. Gulliver was kind enough to take me as an apprentice, and endeavored to instruct me in the art of surgery and seamanship. During my course of study with Mr. Gulliver, he told many tales of his divers travels. At first I believed him to have lost his mind, but he produced a number of souvenirs to verify his accounts. After seeing these items, I could not doubt the absolute truth of Mr. Gulliver’s accounts.
He told me of a bizarre land inhabited by Houyhnhnms, which he described as the most virtuous and rational horses, far superior to those species in Europe. He often referred to people, his own family, neighbours, and myself, as disgusting Yahoos; which in time I came to understand to be a breed of degenerate human beings that lived in servitude to the venerable Houyhnhnms.
By the time I had completed my apprenticeship, I had become very curious as to the behavior of the Houyhnhnms My master would frequently indulge my curiosities and formed a picture of the most moral and virtuous creatures to ever walk the earth, which, I believe, could offer many valuable lessons to the vast populace of European Yahoos.
I desired to encounter these mythical horses, and Mr. Gulliver, who typically slept in the stables, shared this wish. He was, however, tool old and frail to embark on such a lengthy journey. In his place, he secured me a position as surgeon on a merchant-man schooner, headed towards the East Indies, which was designed to let me off at the land of the Houyhnhnms then return to retrieve me on its return route. I was instructed by Mr. Gulliver to learn as much as possible about the Houyhnhnms, write copious observations, and return with a breeding pair of the most noble Houyhnhnms to better our own race.
The voyage was uneventful until that fateful night when the most ominous storm approached. I was awakened by the violent swells that tossed the modest schooner helplessly in the tumultuous sea. I quickly dressed and ascended to the deck hoping to offer some assistance, but the men were running about in utter chaos, screaming and acting regardless of command. It was no surprise that our poorly guided vessel soon struck a sizable reef and begun to take on water. Fearing we might be forced to abandon ship, I ran to my Cabin and Hastily placed my most necessary belongings into my seaman’s bag. When I returned to the deck it was empty, for the crew had gathered into boats and set off into the sea. I reluctantly dropped my bag and dove over the side. I swam with all my strength and might, and finally crawled upon a sandy shore as the sun was rising.
CHAPTER 2
The Author encounters two Lorealati. He is taken in by a family of Trolls.
I made my way up the beach and, for the swim taking most of my energy, found a grove of shady trees, and fell quickly asleep. I awoke sometime in the afternoon, consumed with the most ravishing hunger and need of drink. I walked inland, hoping I would find a stream or some fruits of edible variety. I soon came upon a road bordering a cornfield. The road was rutted with wagon wheels and many horse prints. I must confess to the reader, being no master of navigation, and rather ignorant of my position when the boat came upon the reef, I briefly thought this to be the land of the intelligent Houyhnhnms. These joyful thoughts were stoutly debunked when I noticed a coach approaching. As it came nearer, I saw the carriage was driven by horses, certainly not any form of Yahoo, as I imagined such a creature to look, based on Mr. Gulliver’s descriptions. Not knowing if the owners of the wagon were of a civilized benevolent race or savage and hostile, I hid myself among the stalks of corn.
However, my fear did not entirely overwhelm my curiosity; for I peeked out through a gap and watched the carriage approach. As it passed I caught a glimpse of what can only be described as the most horrifying, grotesque visage I have ever witnessed. The face resembled that of a human in shape, but the complexion was that of a chicken egg, or perhaps even whiter, and its eyes were surrounded by circles of a very bright and unnatural blue. On top of its head stood several large spikes or pines, like those of a porcupine, only much larger and containing a variety of colours. Its eyelashes appeared to be composed of a similar substance, for they extended far from its eyes, curling upwards. They were of a very thick material, not unlike the quills atop its head, but coloured a solid black.
Before the carriage had passed I turned in fright and receded as quickly as possible into the cornfield. This proved to be unlucky, for I sound found myself lost amongst the corn stalks, all of which reached higher than my head.
I decided it better to risk my cover of secrecy and jump above the towering corn to see which direction I might go. It took me several tries to jump high enough, but I saw the road and quick made that direction.
I was given yet another heart stopping fright when I emerged to see a short, stocky man standing at the edge of the field hold a rake and wearing a solid white mask. He shouted at me with a very angry tone in a language I did not understand. I politely told him, in every language I knew how to speak, that I was lost and shipwrecked, and bowed in mild supplication. He appeared to understand but then forced me back into the cornfield by brandishing his rake. It was there he removed his mask. His countenance was not at all grotesque or deformed, as one expects to lie beneath a mask, but was of the softest skin and most delicate features, clearly descended of the most noble stock. He spoke again, this time much clearer with his mask removed.
From the urgency of his manner I gathered that I was in great danger. Using various hand motions, he indicated that I must stay hidden in the cornfield until nightfall. He gestured that I lie in a prone position, and, using his rake, he covered my back with earth to maintain a greater camouflage. He put his mask back on and nervously exited the field.
I lay still as possible for several hours. Shortly after dusk the man returned without his mask and silently led me through the fields by the hand, very quickly I might add, until we came upon a humble stone cottage.
The cottage was quite similar to that of the rural English countryside, very small but warm, with a stone fireplace in the center of the house. When we arrived, the man’s wife was cooking supper, and he explained to her, I assume, the nature of my visitation. Upon hearing this, she graciously served me a bowl of corn porridge.
Neither the man nor his wife wore any sort of mask, and the man’s wife, who I later learned was named Vidal, was, with all respect to my host, Trés, possessed an extreme beauty found only among the rare glamorous courtiers in England, certainly not in modest rural cottages. However, when their child entered, I say child, for I could not determine the sex of it, it sat down at the dinner table with its face completely covered with bandages. The child did not eat, for there was no opening which food could be passed through, and when it spoke, which was but rarely, its words were muffled to utter unintelligibility. Judging from its height and high tone of voice, I estimated the child to be of nine or ten years of age. I felt heavy with sympathy for the child as I tried to speculate as to what type of accident caused such horrible injuries to its face.
After supper Trés and Vidal made efforts to teach me some of their language by pointing to objects and pronouncing their name. I repeated these names with much proficiency, for I have always had great skill in regard to learning languages. Wishing to expand my vocabulary beyond the shallow bound of memory, I made gestures to indicate that I desired pen and paper, as well as any books in their language.
The man returned with pens of many colours and a notebook which was filled with numerous drawings of women. These he displayed with utmost pride and pointed to the child, which I presumed to mean that the child, before it acquired its injuries, had drawn. The drawings were of remarkable quality considering the age of the child, but I was quite disturbed when I found several sketches of those hideous creatures I had first encountered while hiding in the cornfield.
Trés could not produce any other books, which I interpreted to mean that either no written language existed in this country, or that my hosts were unacquainted with it. Regardless, I still managed to write phonetic translations of the words I was taught. This continued until the family retired. Trés laid a comfortable bed of straw on the floor of the child’s room, and I was given two blankets. The child’s snores were rendered nearly inaudible by the bandages, and I slept very soundly.
The Author giveth some account of himself; his first inducements to travel. He is shipwrecked, and swims for his life; gets safe on shoar in the country of Lóreal.
My father owned a small estate in Devonshire. I was the last of five sons. My father’s wealth was not great, but at the age of fourteen, he sent me to Emanuel College in Cambridge. I resided there three years, after which I could no longer support myself with my scanty allowence.
In Cambridge I became acquainted with an elderly gentleman by the name of Lemuel Gulliver. The majority of my neighbours thought him insane, for he was often found muttering to himself about Yahoos and other nonsensical things.
Upon my withdrawal from the University, Mr. Gulliver was kind enough to take me as an apprentice, and endeavored to instruct me in the art of surgery and seamanship. During my course of study with Mr. Gulliver, he told many tales of his divers travels. At first I believed him to have lost his mind, but he produced a number of souvenirs to verify his accounts. After seeing these items, I could not doubt the absolute truth of Mr. Gulliver’s accounts.
He told me of a bizarre land inhabited by Houyhnhnms, which he described as the most virtuous and rational horses, far superior to those species in Europe. He often referred to people, his own family, neighbours, and myself, as disgusting Yahoos; which in time I came to understand to be a breed of degenerate human beings that lived in servitude to the venerable Houyhnhnms.
By the time I had completed my apprenticeship, I had become very curious as to the behavior of the Houyhnhnms My master would frequently indulge my curiosities and formed a picture of the most moral and virtuous creatures to ever walk the earth, which, I believe, could offer many valuable lessons to the vast populace of European Yahoos.
I desired to encounter these mythical horses, and Mr. Gulliver, who typically slept in the stables, shared this wish. He was, however, tool old and frail to embark on such a lengthy journey. In his place, he secured me a position as surgeon on a merchant-man schooner, headed towards the East Indies, which was designed to let me off at the land of the Houyhnhnms then return to retrieve me on its return route. I was instructed by Mr. Gulliver to learn as much as possible about the Houyhnhnms, write copious observations, and return with a breeding pair of the most noble Houyhnhnms to better our own race.
The voyage was uneventful until that fateful night when the most ominous storm approached. I was awakened by the violent swells that tossed the modest schooner helplessly in the tumultuous sea. I quickly dressed and ascended to the deck hoping to offer some assistance, but the men were running about in utter chaos, screaming and acting regardless of command. It was no surprise that our poorly guided vessel soon struck a sizable reef and begun to take on water. Fearing we might be forced to abandon ship, I ran to my Cabin and Hastily placed my most necessary belongings into my seaman’s bag. When I returned to the deck it was empty, for the crew had gathered into boats and set off into the sea. I reluctantly dropped my bag and dove over the side. I swam with all my strength and might, and finally crawled upon a sandy shore as the sun was rising.
CHAPTER 2
The Author encounters two Lorealati. He is taken in by a family of Trolls.
I made my way up the beach and, for the swim taking most of my energy, found a grove of shady trees, and fell quickly asleep. I awoke sometime in the afternoon, consumed with the most ravishing hunger and need of drink. I walked inland, hoping I would find a stream or some fruits of edible variety. I soon came upon a road bordering a cornfield. The road was rutted with wagon wheels and many horse prints. I must confess to the reader, being no master of navigation, and rather ignorant of my position when the boat came upon the reef, I briefly thought this to be the land of the intelligent Houyhnhnms. These joyful thoughts were stoutly debunked when I noticed a coach approaching. As it came nearer, I saw the carriage was driven by horses, certainly not any form of Yahoo, as I imagined such a creature to look, based on Mr. Gulliver’s descriptions. Not knowing if the owners of the wagon were of a civilized benevolent race or savage and hostile, I hid myself among the stalks of corn.
However, my fear did not entirely overwhelm my curiosity; for I peeked out through a gap and watched the carriage approach. As it passed I caught a glimpse of what can only be described as the most horrifying, grotesque visage I have ever witnessed. The face resembled that of a human in shape, but the complexion was that of a chicken egg, or perhaps even whiter, and its eyes were surrounded by circles of a very bright and unnatural blue. On top of its head stood several large spikes or pines, like those of a porcupine, only much larger and containing a variety of colours. Its eyelashes appeared to be composed of a similar substance, for they extended far from its eyes, curling upwards. They were of a very thick material, not unlike the quills atop its head, but coloured a solid black.
Before the carriage had passed I turned in fright and receded as quickly as possible into the cornfield. This proved to be unlucky, for I sound found myself lost amongst the corn stalks, all of which reached higher than my head.
I decided it better to risk my cover of secrecy and jump above the towering corn to see which direction I might go. It took me several tries to jump high enough, but I saw the road and quick made that direction.
I was given yet another heart stopping fright when I emerged to see a short, stocky man standing at the edge of the field hold a rake and wearing a solid white mask. He shouted at me with a very angry tone in a language I did not understand. I politely told him, in every language I knew how to speak, that I was lost and shipwrecked, and bowed in mild supplication. He appeared to understand but then forced me back into the cornfield by brandishing his rake. It was there he removed his mask. His countenance was not at all grotesque or deformed, as one expects to lie beneath a mask, but was of the softest skin and most delicate features, clearly descended of the most noble stock. He spoke again, this time much clearer with his mask removed.
From the urgency of his manner I gathered that I was in great danger. Using various hand motions, he indicated that I must stay hidden in the cornfield until nightfall. He gestured that I lie in a prone position, and, using his rake, he covered my back with earth to maintain a greater camouflage. He put his mask back on and nervously exited the field.
I lay still as possible for several hours. Shortly after dusk the man returned without his mask and silently led me through the fields by the hand, very quickly I might add, until we came upon a humble stone cottage.
The cottage was quite similar to that of the rural English countryside, very small but warm, with a stone fireplace in the center of the house. When we arrived, the man’s wife was cooking supper, and he explained to her, I assume, the nature of my visitation. Upon hearing this, she graciously served me a bowl of corn porridge.
Neither the man nor his wife wore any sort of mask, and the man’s wife, who I later learned was named Vidal, was, with all respect to my host, Trés, possessed an extreme beauty found only among the rare glamorous courtiers in England, certainly not in modest rural cottages. However, when their child entered, I say child, for I could not determine the sex of it, it sat down at the dinner table with its face completely covered with bandages. The child did not eat, for there was no opening which food could be passed through, and when it spoke, which was but rarely, its words were muffled to utter unintelligibility. Judging from its height and high tone of voice, I estimated the child to be of nine or ten years of age. I felt heavy with sympathy for the child as I tried to speculate as to what type of accident caused such horrible injuries to its face.
After supper Trés and Vidal made efforts to teach me some of their language by pointing to objects and pronouncing their name. I repeated these names with much proficiency, for I have always had great skill in regard to learning languages. Wishing to expand my vocabulary beyond the shallow bound of memory, I made gestures to indicate that I desired pen and paper, as well as any books in their language.
The man returned with pens of many colours and a notebook which was filled with numerous drawings of women. These he displayed with utmost pride and pointed to the child, which I presumed to mean that the child, before it acquired its injuries, had drawn. The drawings were of remarkable quality considering the age of the child, but I was quite disturbed when I found several sketches of those hideous creatures I had first encountered while hiding in the cornfield.
Trés could not produce any other books, which I interpreted to mean that either no written language existed in this country, or that my hosts were unacquainted with it. Regardless, I still managed to write phonetic translations of the words I was taught. This continued until the family retired. Trés laid a comfortable bed of straw on the floor of the child’s room, and I was given two blankets. The child’s snores were rendered nearly inaudible by the bandages, and I slept very soundly.