The World Is Round Page 4

  What a place a mountain could be it looked so steep and its sides so straight and the color so blue and now one two three all out but she and red white and blue all out but you and if there was a cock it was the time when it crew, but no there was no cock, there was no hen there was no glass pen, there was only Rose, Rose Rose, Rose and all of a sudden Rose knew that in Rose there was an o and an o is round, oh dear not a sound.

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  THE MORNING

  Rose was a rose, she was not a dahlia, she was not a butter-cup (that is yellow), she was not a fuchsia or an oleander, well Rose wake Rose, Rose had not been asleep oh dear no, the dawn comes before the sun, and the dawn is the time to run, it is easy to run before the sun and Rose did. She was now not among the bushes which scratched but among trees which have nuts and she liked that, anybody would, and she did.

  It is wonderful how many trees there are when they are all there and just then all the trees were all there, tree trunks are round that is if you go around but they are not round up into the air. Rose drew a deep breath of relief, and she lifted up her chair and she was almost glad she was there there where she was.

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  THE TREES AND THE ROCKS UNDER THEM

  The dawn is not rosy but it is quite cosy and in the woods it really is so, they did once say the woods the poor man’s overcoat, and it is true there in the woods no rain comes through no sun comes through no snow comes through no dust comes through, there has to be a lot of anything before in a thick wood it does come through, and this was so and now Rose could know that this was so so early in the morning before there is a morning, and so Rose began to think of singing she thought how nice it would be to sing there in the woods where there were only trees and nothing, perhaps rocks and leaves and nuts and mushrooms but really not anything and perhaps she would like to begin singing, singing with her blue chair. And then she thought of course it always did happen as soon as she began to sing she began to cry and if she began to cry well no matter how much she would try when she began to sing she would begin to cry. And then there she was in the woods, they said the woods were a covering and she had her blue chair and she had to think of something but if she began to sing or if she began to say something. Well when you are all alone alone in the woods even if the woods are lovely and warm and there is a blue chair which can never be any harm, even so if you hear your own voice singing or even just talking well hearing anything even if it is all your own like your own voice is and you are all alone and you hear your own voice then it is frightening.

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  ROSE DOES SOMETHING

  So Rose did not sing but she had to do something.

  And what did she do well she began to smile she was climbing all the while climbing not like on a stair but climbing a little higher everywhere and then she saw a lovely tree and she thought yes it is round but all around I am going to cut Rose is a Rose is a Rose and so it is there and not anywhere can I hear anything which will give me a scare.

  And then she thought she would cut it higher, she would stand on her blue chair and as high as she could reach she would cut it there.

  So she took out her pen-knife, she did not have a glass pen she did not have a feather from a hen she did not have any ink she had nothing pink, she would just stand on her chair and around and around even if there was a very little sound she would carve on the tree Rose is a Rose is a Rose is a Rose is a Rose until it went all the way round. Suppose she said it would not go around but she knew it would go around. So she began.

  She put the chair there she climbed on the chair it was her blue chair but it excited her so, not the chair but the pen-knife and putting her name there, that she several times almost fell off of the chair.

  It is not easy to carve a name on a tree particularly oh yes particularly if the letters are round like R and O and S and E, it is not easy.

  And Rose forgot the dawn forgot the rosy dawn forgot the sun forgot she was only one and all alone there she had to carve and carve with care the corners of the Os and Rs and Ss and Es in a Rose is a Rose is a Rose is a Rose.

  Well first she did one and then the pen-knife seemed not to cut so well so she thought she would find a shell or a stone and if she rubbed her knife hard on it until it shone it would cut again just as it did before the knife began to groan. So she had to climb up and down on the chair and she had to find a stone and she had to go on and on, and at last well was it still dawn was there a sun well anyway at last it was more than begun it was almost done and she was cutting in the last Rose and just then well just then her eyes went on and they were round with wonder and alarm and her mouth was round and she had almost burst into a song because she saw on another tree over there that some one had been there and had carved a name and the name dear me the name was the same it was Rose and under Rose was Willie and under Willie was Billie.

  It made Rose feel very funny it really did.

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  ROSE AND THE BELL

  She climbed on and on and she could not tell not very well whether it was night or day but she knew it was day and not night because it was really quite bright, it might though yes it might have been night. But was it.

  Well anyway she was climbing away she and the chair and she almost thought that she was almost there and then was it that she fell but anyway she did hear a bell, it was a tinkle and she heard it clearly it might be that a stone had stumbled and hit the garden chair, it might be that the chair had hit something right there or it might be that it was a cat that had a bell or it might be that it was a cow that had a bell or a sheep or a bird or even a little dog that might be running there chasing a low flying crow, or it might be a telephone, not very likely but it might, or it might be a dinner bell, or it might not be a bell at all it might be just a call, or it might be a lizard or a frog or it might be dear me it might be a log, rolling over rocks and water, but no it was a bell how can you tell if a bell is a bell.

  There are so many things that are just funny it might just be silver money, anyway Rose was there and she certainly did think she knew she had heard a bell. Did she hear a bell. And would she know it was a bell if it was a bell. Did it come nearer and did she go nearer and was it just perhaps lightning and thunder.

  All around the sun was shining and the bell was ringing and the woods were thinning and the green was shining. Please Rose please she was remembering. That is the way it was. It made her feel a little lonesome, until then she had been busy climbing but now she was beginning beginning hearing everything and it was a little lonesome.

  Rose was a little lonesome, she had her blue chair. She was a little lonesome.

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  ROSE AND THE BELL

  The bell was ringing but there was no singing and Rose went climbing up and on. And then gradually she came out of the trees and there she saw an enormous green meadow going up to a point and in the middle of the meadow green, it was green as grass, there was a little black dog way up all alone and shaking himself like a dog does. Oh said Rose and she almost sat down. It was the first word she had said of all the many that had come into her head since she first began to climb. And of course it was a round one. Oh is a round one. For the first time since she began to climb Rose did not know what to do next.

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  ONCE UPON A TIME

  Once upon a time way back, there were always meadows with grass on them on top of every mountain. A mountain looked as if it had rocks way up there but really way up there there was always grass and the grass always made it look elegant and it was nice.

  Grass is always the most elegant more elegant than rocks and trees, trees are elegant and so are rocks but grass is more so.

  And here way up there was grass and it was going on and on and it is so much harder to climb up and up and up on grass than on rocks and under trees.

  And to carry a blue chair way up there on and on through the grass because grass is steep steeper than rocks are, it was a very difficult day that day and that was the way Rose went on her way.
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  She had to what else could she do she had to see it through getting up there to be all the way there and to sit on her chair.

  And when you are walking on grass it is harder to see where there is. And anyway what did it say. The grass did not say anyway, it was green and nothing green ever has anything to say.

  Rose knew that that is why she always did prefer blue.

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  THE GREEN GRASS MEADOW

  Rose was now going up and up the green grass meadow that went right on to the top. She did not say oh again she just went on. It was hot, and the green grass was hot and underneath the green grass there was ground and in that ground oh dear Rose almost stepped on it there was something round.

  Rose had courage everywhere she just went on going up there.

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  THE LAST HOUR

  It is hard to go on when you are nearly there but not near enough to hurry up to get there. That is where Rose was and she well she hardly could go on to get there. And where was there. She almost said it she almost whispered it to herself and to the chair. Where oh where is there.

  But she went on and the grass was shorter and the slant was steeper and the chair was bluer and heavier and the clouds were nearer and the top was further because she was so near she could not see which way it was and if she went one way and the top was the other way could it be that she would never see what she could see. Oh deary me oh deary me what did she see. She did see and her eyes were round with fright and her hands and arms did hold her chair tight and suddenly green became blue and she knew that one would become two and three would become four and never again no never again would there ever be a door for her to go through.

  But Rose was not like that, stumbling would be the beginning of tumbling and she would not tumble up but tumble down if she began to stumble and so she began to frown and she knew she would have to begin to count, one two one two one two one two.

  Close your eyes and count one two open your eyes and count one two and then green would not be blue. So Rose began counting one two one two and she knew that she was counting one two one two and so her eyes were blue although her name was Rose. Of course her eyes were blue even though her name was Rose. That is the reason she always did prefer blue because her eyes were blue. And she had two eyes and each one of her two eyes was blue, one two one two.

  And sooner than it could be true there she saw something that was not green nor blue, it was violet and other colors it was high up as high as the sky it was where she could cry it was a rain-bow. Oh yes oh no it was a rain-bow.

  And Rose just went right through, she went right through the rain-bow and she did know that was what she would do. She had it to do and she went right through the rain-bow and then there she was right on the top so that there was no other top there just the top with room for the blue chair and Rose put the blue chair there and she sat upon the chair. And Rose was there.

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  THERE

  She was all alone on the top of everything and she was sitting there and she could sing.

  This was the song she sang,

  It began.

  Here I am.

  When I wish a dish

  I wish a dish of ham.

  When I wish a little wish

  I wish that I was where I am.

  She stopped and sat awhile not that she ever got up, she was so pleased with sitting she just sat.

  And then she sang,

  When I see I saw I can

  I can see what I saw I saw where I am sitting.

  Yes I am sitting.

  She sighed a little.

  Yes I can see I am sitting.

  She sighed again.

  Yes I can.

  Once when five apples were red,

  They never were it was my head.

  No said she no it was not my head it was my bed.

  So she began again.

  Once when apples were red

  When all is said when all is said

  Are apples red

  Or is it said that I know which which I have.

  She stopped to think

  Rose stopped to think,

  I think said Rose and she wriggled a little on her chair.

  She was alone up there.

  I think said Rose.

  And then she began to sing.

  Am I asleep or am I awake

  Have I butter or have I cake,

  Am I here or am I there,

  Is the chair a bed or is it a chair.

  Who is where.

  Once more Rose began to sing.

  It was getting a little dark and once more Rose began to sing.

  I am Rose my eyes are blue

  I am Rose and who are you

  I am Rose and when I sing

  I am Rose like anything.

  I am Rose said Rose and she began to sing.

  I am Rose but I am not rosy

  All alone and not very cosy

  I am Rose and while I am Rose

  Well well Rose is Rose.

  It was a little darker.

  Rose sat a little tighter on her blue chair. She really was up there. She really was.

  She began to sing.

  Once upon a time I knew

  A chair was blue.

  Once upon a time I knew whose chair was blue.

  My chair was blue nobody knew but I knew I knew my chair was blue.

  Rose went on singing it was getting darker. Once upon a time there was a way to stay to stay away, I did not stay away I came away I came away away away and I am here and here is there oh where oh where is there oh where. And Rose began to cry oh where where where is there. I am there oh yes I am there oh where oh where is there.

  It was darker and darker and the world was rounder and rounder and the chair the blue chair was harder and harder and Rose was more there than anywhere. Oh dear yes there.

  And once more Rose began to sing.

  When I sing I am in a ring, and a ring is round and there is no sound and the way is white and pepper is bright and Love my dog Love he is away alright oh dear wailed Rose oh dear oh dear I never did know I would be here, and here I am all alone all night and I am in a most awful fright. Oh chair dear chair dear hard blue chair do hold me tight I’ll sit in you with all my might.

  It was getting darker and darker and there was no moon, Rose never had cared about the moon but there were lots of stars and somebody had told her that stars were round, they were not stars, and so the stars were not any comfort to her and just then well just then what was it just then well it was just that it was just then.

  Just then wailed Rose I wish just then had been a hen.

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  A LIGHT

  Well it was night and night well night can be all right that is just what a night can be it can be all night. And Rose knew that. Rose knew so much it made her clutch the blue chair closer as she sat on it there.

  And then just then what was it, it was not lightning it was not a moon it was not a star not even a shooting star it was not an umbrella it was not eyes eyes in the dark oh dear no it was a light, a light and oh so bright. And there it was way off on another hill and it went round and round and it went all around Rose and it was a search light surely it was and it was on a further hill and surely Will her cousin Will surely he was on another hill and he made the light go round and round and made the ground green not black and made the sky white not black and Rose oh Rose just felt warm right through to her back.

  And she began to sing.

  A little boy upon a hill

  Oh Will oh Will.

  A little boy upon a hill

  He will oh will.

  Oh Will oh Will.

  And I am here and you are there, and I am here and here is there and you are there and there is here oh Will oh Will on any hill.

  Oh Will oh Will oh Will

  Oh Will oh Will.

  Will you sang Rose oh yes you will.

  And she sang oh will oh will and she cried and cried and cried
and cried and the search light went round and round and round and round.

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  THE END

  Willie and Rose turned out not to be cousins, just how nobody knows, and so they married and had children and sang with them and sometimes singing made Rose cry and sometimes it made Willie get more and more excited and they lived happily ever after and the world just went on being round.

  Gertrude Stein, the big dog Love, and Rose on the terrace of the farmhouse at Bilignin, France, circa 1938.

  AFTERWORD

  THE WORLD IS NOT FLAT

  ONCE you have met Rose, the nine-year-old heroine of Gertrude Stein’s wonderful book for children and adults, The World Is Round, you will never forget her.

  Rose is a child who is constantly wondering, pondering, puzzling about her “very own self.” Rose’s self-concern touches the fears of all children and reveals a universal anxiety: Who am I? “Would she have been Rose if her name had not been Rose. She used to think and then she used to think again.” When Rose sings: