FIVE CHILDREN AND IT(Illustrated) E-Book

E. Nesbit

• Herausgeber: Micheal Smith
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

• Illustrated Edition: Experience E. NESBIT's timeless tale through a fresh lens with 15 enchanting illustrations.
• Summary and Characters List: Dive deeper into the story with an inclusive summary and characters list.
• Author Insights: Gain a richer understanding of the narrative through a comprehensive author biography.

Embark on a whimsical journey through E. NESBIT's cherished classic, "Five Children and It", as you've never seen it before! This splendid illustrated edition brings to life the enchanting adventures of Robert, Anthea, Cyril, Jane, and the Lamb, who uncover a world where wishes aren’t just the stuff of dreams, but a reality that leads to unexpected escapades.
Within the sun-drenched vistas of the English countryside, the five siblings encounter the Psammead, an ancient, wish-granting creature, buried within the sandy realms of a gravel pit. Despite its capricious and somewhat grumpy demeanor, the Sand-fairy envelops the children into a tapestry of adventures that range from the fantastical to the farcically absurd.
Each wish, granted with a blend of magic and mischief, steers the children through escapades that are at times hilariously chaotic and at others, heartwarmingly poignant. From touching the realms of unimaginable wealth to soaring through celestial skies, the siblings navigate through their wishes, unraveling life lessons woven with gentle wisdom and heartfelt moments of youthful reflection.
But this edition transcends mere storytelling. The fifteen meticulously crafted illustrations breathe fresh vitality into the beloved narrative, inviting readers to visually immerse themselves in the children's fantastical adventures. The supplementary summary and characters list provide an insightful companion to those desiring a deeper exploration of the narrative's depth and the personalities that populate it. Moreover, the inclusive author biography extends an invitation to peer into E. NESBIT's world, offering a richer understanding and appreciation of the mind behind this cherished classic.
Whether you're revisiting this timeless tale or stepping into the enchanting world of the Psammead for the first time, this illustrated edition of "Five Children and It" promises a cascade of emotions, reflections, and a gentle nudge towards the magic that exists within our everyday realities. An adventure of a lifetime awaits, where wishes are not just dreams, but a path that spirals into uncharted territories of fantasy, comedy, and heart.
Join the journey, where the ordinary intertwines with the extraordinary, crafting a tapestry that is as richly imaginative as it is deeply humane. This edition is not just a book but a portal, into worlds both whimsically fantastical and touchingly real, waiting to be discovered and cherished by readers, young and old.
 

Leseprobe

FIVE CHILDREN

AND IT

BY

E. NESBIT

ABOUT NESBIT

Edith Nesbit, known to her readers as E. Nesbit, was born in Kennington, Surrey, England, on August 15, 1858, into an innovative and intellectual family that would shape her progressive worldview. Edith’s early years were marked by an eclectic and somewhat unconventional upbringing. With her father, John Collis Nesbit, dying when Edith was just four, her mother, Sarah, navigated their family through various European locales, exposing Edith and her siblings to diverse cultures and philosophies.

Childhood Adventures and Hardships:

As a child, Edith experienced both adventure and hardship, with the family often grappling with financial instability. This theme of paradox - joy intermingled with pain, privilege juxtaposed with poverty - would later weave itself into her stories. She was homeschooled by her mother and showed an early proclivity for storytelling, often crafting imaginative tales for her younger siblings.

Philosophical Influence:

Nesbit's family was intertwined with various progressive causes, including women's rights and socialism, which were significant influences throughout her life. These ideals seeped into her writing, subtly sending messages about equality, justice, and the importance of social cooperation to young readers.

Writing Career:

E. Nesbit embarked upon her writing career initially through poetry, with her first poem being published when she was in her late teens. However, it was her innovative children’s books, often merging real-world problems with magical elements, that catapulted her to literary acclaim. She wrote over 40 books for children, including the famed "The Railway Children" and "Five Children and It," which brought a new dynamism to children’s literature by placing real children in fantastical situations.

Personal Life and The Fabian Society:

Edith married Hubert Bland in 1880, and despite the complexities and infidelities within their marriage, they collaborated on numerous socialist projects. Together, they became foundational members of The Fabian Society, advocating for social change through gradual and reformist means. Edith continued to utilize her platform as a popular author to subtly promote her sociopolitical beliefs.

Legacy of Contrasts:

Nesbit's life and work were emblematic of contrast and contradiction. Her stories, whilst enchanting and delightful, also explored the hardships and realities faced by children. Her personal life, too, was a mosaic of joy and struggle, with her progressive external persona sometimes clashing with her own domestic challenges.

Later Years and Enduring Influence:

Nesbit's later years were marked by both her continued literary output and her active participation in social causes. She passed away on May 4, 1924, in New Romney, Kent, but her legacy endures as her works continue to charm readers across generations. E. Nesbit is remembered not just as a storyteller but as a pioneering spirit who brought a new depth and reality to children's literature, intertwining enchantment with relatable human experiences.

Her stories, whilst providing escapism through their fantastical elements, also offered a mirror to society, gently pushing readers to ponder deeper questions related to fairness, equity, and collective responsibility. E. Nesbit is celebrated for her capacity to enchant and engage, all while subtly challenging and inspiring her readers to dream of a world that could be.

SUMMARY

Title: "Five Children and It"

Author: E. Nesbit

A Magical Adventure and Unintended Lessons

"Five Children and It" orchestrates a whimsical journey where enchantment intertwines with the tangible world, unfolding the adventures of five siblings: Robert, Anthea, Cyril, Jane, and their baby brother, Hilary, often referred to as "The Lamb". During a serene summer holiday in the English countryside, they stumble upon a peculiar, wish-granting creature known as the Psammead, or the Sand-fairy, hidden within the depths of a gravel pit.

The Psammead, with its furry body, eyes on stalks, and a temperament as whimsical as the wishes it grants, agrees to fulfill a single daily wish for the children. But the siblings quickly learn that wishes, especially those made without foresight, spiral into unintended consequences and comical misadventures. From becoming as beautiful as the day to encountering ancient rulers, their summer becomes a cascade of peculiar encounters and gentle calamities.

In a seamless blend of magic and moral, E. Nesbit takes us on a ride where every whimsical escapade folds into subtle life lessons. The children navigate through their misadventures, encountering dilemmas and conundrums, only to discover the complexities and intricacies hidden within their desires. Their experiences delicately unveil insights about caution, empathy, and the multifaceted nature of seemingly straightforward wishes.

As each wish propels the children into unforeseen adventures, they gradually unravel the tapestry of maturity, understanding, and the paradoxes entwined with human desire. In this enchanting tale, readers are not only immersed in a world where fantasy and reality coalesce but are also nudged towards a gentle introspection about desire, consequence, and the inherent magic tucked within everyday life.

Nesbit, through the fanciful yet poignant adventures of the children, invites readers of all ages to wander into a world where magic mirrors reality, crafting a timeless narrative that is as enchanting as it is enlightening.

CHARACTERS LIST

"Five Children and It," written by E. Nesbit, introduces us to a charming ensemble of characters who navigate through a world where whimsical adventures unfold through the intervention of a mystical creature. Below is a list and brief description of the primary characters in the book:

The Children:

Robert: Often the group's instigator, Robert is adventurous, impulsive, and occasionally confrontational, though well-meaning at heart.

Anthea: Recognized as the peacemaker and compassionate sister, Anthea often prioritizes harmony and displays a nurturing demeanor, especially towards her younger brothers.

Cyril: Sometimes referred to as "Squirrel," Cyril demonstrates moments of pragmatic and logical thinking and often finds himself acting as the rational voice among his siblings.

Jane: Also known as "Pussy," Jane can be sensitive and cautious. She often finds herself caught between the adventurous schemes of her siblings and her own more reserved nature.

Hilary (The Lamb): The youngest among the siblings, The Lamb, becomes a central figure around whom the elder children’s adventures and decisions pivot.

Other Key Characters:

The Psammead: A sand-fairy with the ability to grant a daily wish to the children. It is ancient, irritable, but intriguing, guiding the children through their adventures with its capricious magic.

Martha: The children's caretaker during their countryside stay. Martha is often exasperated by the children’s escapades but remains largely oblivious to their magical experiences.

The Mother: A gentle presence in the children’s lives, their mother provides a comforting and understanding backdrop to their adventures, even though she remains uninvolved in the magical escapades.

The Father: Absent for most of the story due to work commitments, he is a beloved figure in the children’s lives, and his absence indirectly allows the adventures to unfold.

Additional Characters:

The White-Haired Ugly Duchess: Encountered during one of the children's wished-for adventures, she provides a brief, comedic element to the narrative.

Rebecca (Becca): A servant girl in the household who is occasionally swept into the fringes of the children's adventures.

Various Historical and Fantastical Figures: Encountered during the wishes, they range from knights and Indians to fantastical beings, each propelling the children into curious and often chaotic scenarios.

The characters in "Five Children and It" each bring their own unique flair to the narrative, combining to create a tale that is both enchanting and imbued with subtle moral and ethical reflections. Nesbit brilliantly intertwines the ordinary and the extraordinary, crafting characters that are both relatable and delightfully fantastical.

Contents

Dedication and Note

Chapter 1. Beautiful As The Day

Chapter 2. Golden Guineas

Chapter 3. Being Wanted

Chapter 4. Wings

Chapter 5. No Wings

Chapter 6. A Castle And No Dinner

Chapter 7. A Siege And Bed

Chapter 8. Bigger Than The Baker's Boy

Chapter 9. Grown Up

Chapter 10. Scalps

Chapter 11. (And Last) The Last Wish

Dedication and Note

TO

JOHN BLAND

My Lamb, you are so very small,You have not learned to read at all;Yet never a printed book withstandsThe urgence of your dimpled hands.So, though this book is for yourself,Let mother keep it on the shelfTill you can read. O days that pass,That day will come too soon, alas!

Parts of this story have appeared inthe Strand Magazine under the title of

"THE PSAMMEAD."

Chapter 1. Beautiful As The Day

The house was three miles from the station, but, before the dusty hired hack had rattled along for five minutes, the children began to put their heads out of the carriage window and say, "Aren't we nearly there?" And every time they passed a house, which was not very often, they all said, "Oh, is this it?" But it never was, till they reached the very top of the hill, just past the chalk-quarry and before you come to the gravel-pit. And then there was a white house with a green garden and an orchard beyond, and mother said, "Here we are!"

"How white the house is," said Robert.

"And look at the roses," said Anthea.

"And the plums," said Jane.

"It is rather decent," Cyril admitted.

The Baby said, "Wanty go walky;" and the hack stopped with a last rattle and jolt.

Everyone got its legs kicked or its feet trodden on in the scramble to get out of the carriage that very minute, but no one seemed to mind. Mother, curiously enough, was in no hurry to get out; and even when she had come down slowly and by the step, and with no jump at all, she seemed to wish to see the boxes carried in, and even to pay the driver, instead of joining in that first glorious rush round the garden and orchard and the thorny, thistly, briery, brambly wilderness beyond the broken gate and the dry fountain at the side of the house. But the children were wiser, for once. It was not really a pretty house at all; it was quite ordinary, and mother thought it was rather inconvenient, and was quite annoyed at there being no shelves, to speak of, and hardly a cupboard in the place. Father used to say that the iron-work on the roof and coping was like an architect's nightmare. But the house was deep in the country, with no other house in sight, and the children had been in London for two years, without so much as once going to the seaside even for a day by an excursion train, and so the White House seemed to them a sort of Fairy Palace set down in an Earthly Paradise. For London is like prison for children, especially if their relations are not rich.

Of course there are the shops and theatres, and entertainments and things, but if your people are rather poor you don't get taken to the theatres, and you can't buy things out of the shops; and London has none of those nice things that children may play with without hurting the things or themselves—such as trees and sand and woods and waters. And nearly everything in London is the wrong sort of shape—all straight lines and flat streets, instead of being all sorts of odd shapes, like things are in the country. Trees are all different, as you know, and I am sure some tiresome person must have told you that there are no two blades of grass exactly alike. But in streets, where the blades of grass don't grow, everything is like everything else. This is why many children who live in the towns are so extremely naughty. They do not know what is the matter with them, and no more do their fathers and mothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, tutors, governesses, and nurses; but I know. And so do you, now. Children in the country are naughty sometimes, too, but that is for quite different reasons.

The children had explored the gardens and the outhouses thoroughly before they were caught and cleaned for tea, and they saw quite well that they were certain to be happy at the White House. They thought so from the first moment, but when they found the back of the house covered with jasmine, all in white flower, and smelling like a bottle of the most expensive perfume that is ever given for a birthday present; and when they had seen the lawn, all green and smooth, and quite different from the brown grass in the gardens at Camden Town; and when they found the stable with a loft over it and some old hay still left, they were almost certain; and when Robert had found the broken swing and tumbled out of it and got a bump on his head the size of an egg, and Cyril had nipped his finger in the door of a hutch that seemed made to keep rabbits in, if you ever had any, they had no longer any doubts whatever.

The best part of it all was that there were no rules about not going to places and not doing things. In London almost everything is labelled "You mustn't touch," and though the label is invisible it's just as bad, because you know it's there, or if you don't you very soon get told.

The White House was on the edge of a hill, with a wood behind it—and the chalk-quarry on one side and the gravel-pit on the other. Down at the bottom of the hill was a level plain, with queer-shaped white buildings where people burnt lime, and a big red brewery and other houses; and when the big chimneys were smoking and the sun was setting, the valley looked as if it was filled with golden mist, and the limekilns and hop-drying houses glimmered and glittered till they were like an enchanted city out of the Arabian Nights.

Now that I have begun to tell you about the place, I feel that I could go on and make this into a most interesting story about all the ordinary things that the children did,—just the kind of things you do yourself, you know, and you would believe every word of it; and when I told about the children's being tiresome, as you are sometimes, your aunts would perhaps write in the margin of the story with a pencil, "How true!" or "How like life!" and you would see it and would very likely be annoyed. So I will only tell you the really astonishing things that happened, and you may leave the book about quite safely, for no aunts and uncles either are likely to write "How true!" on the edge of the story. Grown-up people find it very difficult to believe really wonderful things, unless they have what they call proof. But children will believe almost anything, and grown-ups know this. That is why they tell you that the earth is round like an orange, when you can see perfectly well that it is flat and lumpy; and why they say that the earth goes round the sun, when you can see for yourself any day that the sun gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night like a good sun as it is, and the earth knows its place, and lies as still as a mouse. Yet I daresay you believe all that about the earth and the sun, and if so you will find it quite easy to believe that before Anthea and Cyril and the others had been a week in the country they had found a fairy. At least they called it that, because that was what it called itself; and of course it knew best, but it was not at all like any fairy you ever saw or heard of or read about.

It was at the gravel-pits. Father had to go away suddenly on business, and mother had gone away to stay with Granny, who was not very well. They both went in a great hurry, and when they were gone the house seemed dreadfully quiet and empty, and the children wandered from one room to another and looked at the bits of paper and string on the floors left over from the packing, and not yet cleared up, and wished they had something to do. It was Cyril who said—

"I say, let's take our spades and dig in the gravel-pits. We can pretend it's seaside."

"Father says it was once," Anthea said; "he says there are shells there thousands of years old."

So they went. Of course they had been to the edge of the gravel-pit and looked over, but they had not gone down into it for fear father should say they mustn't play there, and it was the same with the chalk-quarry. The gravel-pit is not really dangerous if you don't try to climb down the edges, but go the slow safe way round by the road, as if you were a cart.

Each of the children carried its own spade, and took it in turns to carry the Lamb. He was the baby, and they called him that because "Baa" was the first thing he ever said. They called Anthea "Panther," which seems silly when you read it, but when you say it it sounds a little like her name.

The gravel-pit is very large and wide, with grass growing round the edges at the top, and dry stringy wildflowers, purple and yellow. It is like a giant's washbowl. And there are mounds of gravel, and holes in the sides of the bowl where gravel has been taken out, and high up in the steep sides there are the little holes that are the little front doors of the little bank-martins' little houses.

The children built a castle, of course, but castle-building is rather poor fun when you have no hope of the swishing tide ever coming in to fill up the moat and wash away the drawbridge, and, at the happy last, to wet everybody up to the waist at least.

Cyril wanted to dig out a cave to play smugglers in, but the others thought it might bury them alive, so it ended in all spades going to work to dig a hole through the castle to Australia. These children, you see, believed that the world was round, and that on the other side the little Australian boys and girls were really walking wrong way up, like flies on the ceiling, with their heads hanging down into the air.

The children dug and they dug and they dug, and their hands got sandy and hot and red, and their faces got damp and shiny. The Lamb had tried to eat the sand, and had cried so hard when he found that it was not, as he had supposed, brown sugar, that he was now tired out, and was lying asleep in a warm fat bunch in the middle of the half-finished castle. This left his brothers and sisters free to work really hard, and the hole that was to come out in Australia soon grew so deep that Jane, who was called Pussy for short, begged the others to stop.

"Suppose the bottom of the hole gave way suddenly," said she, "and you tumbled out among the little Australians, all the sand would get in their eyes."

"Yes," said Robert; "and they would hate us, and throw stones at us, and not let us see the kangaroos, or opossums, or bluegums, or Emu Brand birds, or anything."

Cyril and Anthea knew that Australia was not quite so near as all that, but they agreed to stop using the spades and to go on with their hands. This was quite easy, because the sand at the bottom of the hole was very soft and fine and dry, like sea-sand. And there were little shells in it.

"Fancy it having been wet sea here once, all sloppy and shiny," said Jane, "with fishes and conger-eels and coral and mermaids."

"And masts of ships and wrecked Spanish treasure. I wish we could find a gold doubloon, or something," Cyril said.

"How did the sea get carried away?" Robert asked.

"Not in a pail, silly," said his brother.

"Father says the earth got too hot underneath, as you do in bed sometimes, so it just hunched up its shoulders, and the sea had to slip off, like the blankets do us, and the shoulder was left sticking out, and turned into dry land. Let's go and look for shells; I think that little cave looks likely, and I see something sticking out there like a bit of wrecked ship's anchor, and it's beastly hot in the Australian hole."

The others agreed, but Anthea went on digging. She always liked to finish a thing when she had once begun it. She felt it would be a disgrace to leave that hole without getting through to Australia.

The cave was disappointing, because there were no shells, and the wrecked ship's anchor turned out to be only the broken end of a pick-axe handle, and the cave party were just making up their minds that sand makes you thirstier when it is not by the seaside, and someone had suggested that they all go home for lemonade, when Anthea suddenly screamed—

"Cyril! Come here! Oh, come quick—It's alive! It'll get away! Quick!"

They all hurried back.

"It's a rat, I shouldn't wonder," said Robert. "Father says they infest old places—and this must be pretty old if the sea was here thousands of years ago"—

"Perhaps it is a snake," said Jane, shuddering.

"Let's look," said Cyril, jumping into the hole. "I'm not afraid of snakes. I like them. If it is a snake I'll tame it, and it will follow me everywhere, and I'll let it sleep round my neck at night."

"No, you won't," said Robert firmly. He shared Cyril's bedroom. "But you may if it's a rat."

"Oh, don't be silly!" said Anthea; "it's not a rat, it's much bigger. And it's not a snake. It's got feet; I saw them; and fur! No—not the spade. You'll hurt it! Dig with your hands."

"And let it hurt me instead! That's so likely, isn't it?" said Cyril, seizing a spade.

"Oh, don't!" said Anthea. "Squirrel, don't. I—it sounds silly, but it said something. It really and truly did"—

"What?"

"It said, 'You let me alone.'"

But Cyril merely observed that his sister must have gone off her head, and he and Robert dug with spades while Anthea sat on the edge of the hole, jumping up and down with hotness and anxiety. They dug carefully, and presently everyone could see that there really was something moving in the bottom of the Australian hole.

Then Anthea cried out, "I'm not afraid. Let me dig," and fell on her knees and began to scratch like a dog does when he has suddenly remembered where it was that he buried his bone.

"Oh, I felt fur," she cried, half laughing and half crying. "I did indeed! I did!" when suddenly a dry husky voice in the sand made them all jump back, and their hearts jumped nearly as fast as they did.

"Let me alone," it said. And now everyone heard the voice and looked at the others to see if they had heard it too.

"But we want to see you," said Robert bravely.

"I wish you'd come out," said Anthea, also taking courage.

"Oh, well—if that's your wish," the voice said, and the sand stirred and spun and scattered, and something brown and furry and fat came rolling out into the hole, and the sand fell off it, and it sat there yawning and rubbing the ends of its eyes with its hands.

"I believe I must have dropped asleep," it said, stretching itself.

The children stood round the hole in a ring, looking at the creature they had found. It was worth looking at. Its eyes were on long horns like a snail's eyes, and it could move them in and out like telescopes; it had ears like a bat's ears, and its tubby body was shaped like a spider's and covered with thick soft fur; its legs and arms were furry too, and it had hands and feet like a monkey's.

"What on earth is it?" Jane said. "Shall we take it home?"

The thing turned its long eyes to look at her, and said—

"Does she always talk nonsense, or is it only the rubbish on her head that makes her silly?"

It looked scornfully at Jane's hat as it spoke.

"She doesn't mean to be silly," Anthea said gently; "we none of us do, whatever you may think! Don't be frightened; we don't want to hurt you, you know."

"Hurt me!" it said. "Me frightened? Upon my word! Why, you talk as if I were nobody in particular." All its fur stood out like a cat's when it is going to fight.

"Well," said Anthea, still kindly, "perhaps if we knew who you are in particular we could think of something to say that wouldn't make you angry. Everything we've said so far seems to have done so. Who are you? And don't get angry! Because really we don't know."

"You don't know?" it said. "Well, I knew the world had changed—but—well, really—Do you mean to tell me seriously you don't know a Psammead when you see one?"

"A Sammyadd? That's Greek to me."

"So it is to everyone," said the creature sharply. "Well, in plain English, then, a Sand-fairy. Don't you know a Sand-fairy when you see one?"