Peter Pan(Illustrated) E-Book

James M. Barrie

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

Beschreibung

• Illustrated Edition with 20 captivating illustrations
• Includes a Summary, Character List, and Author Biography

Step into the magical world of Peter Pan, where childhood never ends and adventure awaits at every turn! In James M. Barrie’s timeless classic, meet Peter Pan, the boy who refuses to grow up, and join him as he whisks Wendy, John, and Michael Darling away to the enchanting island of Neverland. Together, they encounter daring pirates led by the sinister Captain Hook, mischievous fairies like Tinker Bell, and a group of Lost Boys who make every day an adventure.
This beautifully illustrated edition brings the wonder of Neverland to life with 20 captivating images that accompany key moments from the story. Alongside the vivid illustrations, you’ll find a character list that introduces all the beloved figures in the tale, a summary that provides an overview of the thrilling plot, and a biography of James M. Barrie, the creative genius behind Peter Pan.
Filled with heart, humor, and a touch of melancholy, Peter Pan is more than just a fairy tale—it’s a journey through the magic of childhood and a reflection on the inevitability of growing up. Whether you are discovering it for the first time or revisiting this cherished story, this illustrated edition is the perfect way to experience the joy and wonder of Neverland.







 

Leseprobe

                                          Peter Pan                                                                                                                By                                                                                                           James M. Barrie

ABOUT BARRIE

James Matthew Barrie, born on May 9, 1860, in Kirriemuir, Scotland, was a celebrated Scottish novelist and playwright, best known for creating the iconic character Peter Pan. The ninth of ten children, Barrie grew up in a modest family. His childhood was marked by the death of his elder brother David, an event that profoundly impacted him and his family, especially his mother, who found comfort in imagining David would never grow old. This theme of eternal youth later became a central element in Barrie’s most famous work.

Barrie pursued his education at the University of Edinburgh, where he discovered his passion for writing. He began his career as a journalist before transitioning to writing novels and plays. His early works, such as Auld Licht Idylls (1888) and The Little Minister (1891), gained him some recognition, but it was his 1904 play Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up that immortalized his name.

The inspiration for Peter Pan came from Barrie's relationship with the Llewelyn Davies family, particularly the five young boys whom he befriended and supported after the deaths of their parents. Barrie’s whimsical tales, told during their outings in London’s Kensington Gardens, evolved into the magical world of Neverland. Peter Pan embodied themes of childhood innocence, adventure, and the bittersweet nature of growing up, resonating with audiences worldwide.

Though Barrie achieved great literary success, his personal life was often marked by sadness. His marriage to actress Mary Ansell ended in divorce, and he never had children of his own. He remained deeply connected to the Llewelyn Davies boys, even serving as their guardian after their parents’ passing.

Throughout his life, Barrie was highly regarded in literary circles. In 1913, he was awarded a baronetcy, becoming Sir James M. Barrie. He also served as Chancellor of the University of Edinburgh later in life, cementing his legacy not just as a storyteller but as a respected public figure. Barrie continued to write plays and novels until his death on June 19, 1937, leaving behind a timeless legacy that continues to enchant readers and audiences with the enduring magic of Peter Pan.

SUMMARY

Peter Pan by James M. Barrie is a timeless fantasy adventure that whisks readers to the enchanting world of Neverland, where children never grow up and magic is everywhere. The story follows Peter Pan, a mischievous and daring boy who can fly and refuses to grow old. One night, he visits the nursery of the Darling children—Wendy, John, and Michael—and invites them to soar with him to Neverland.

In Neverland, they encounter a world filled with adventure: playful Lost Boys, brave Native Americans, mischievous fairies like the fiery Tinker Bell, and dangerous pirates led by the vengeful Captain Hook. Hook, Peter’s archenemy, adds tension to the magical landscape as he seeks to capture Peter and his friends.

Through thrilling battles, daring escapes, and heartwarming moments, Peter Pan explores themes of childhood innocence, the allure of eternal youth, and the inevitable passage of time. Wendy faces a choice between staying in Neverland with Peter or returning to the real world, highlighting the bittersweet nature of growing up.

With its captivating characters, imaginative setting, and poignant lessons about life and growing up, Peter Pan remains an enduring classic that invites readers to believe in the magic of childhood.

CHARACTERS LIST

Peter Pan –The boy who never grows up. Peter is adventurous, brave, mischievous, and the leader of the Lost Boys. He can fly and lives in Neverland, where he has no interest in becoming an adult.

Wendy Darling –The eldest of the Darling children, Wendy is motherly, nurturing, and imaginative. She travels to Neverland with Peter and her brothers and takes on the role of “mother” to the Lost Boys.

John Darling –Wendy’s younger brother, John is practical and adventurous. He is eager to join Peter’s escapades in Neverland and is often portrayed as the more serious sibling.

Michael Darling –The youngest of the Darling children, Michael is innocent and playful. He looks up to Peter and enjoys the adventures in Neverland.

Tinker Bell –A tiny, fierce fairy and Peter Pan’s loyal companion. Tinker Bell is protective of Peter and is sometimes jealous of his attention toward Wendy.

Captain Hook –The villainous pirate captain and Peter Pan’s archenemy. Hook is cunning, ruthless, and obsessed with capturing Peter after losing his hand to him in a previous fight. He is terrified of the crocodile that haunts him, having once swallowed his hand.

Smee –Captain Hook’s bumbling and kind-hearted boatswain. Smee is one of the few pirates who is not completely evil and often provides comic relief.

The Lost Boys –A group of boys who live in Neverland under Peter Pan’s leadership. They are children who, like Peter, have no parents and never grow up. The most notable Lost Boy is Slightly, one of Peter’s closest companions.

Tiger Lily –The princess of the Native American tribe in Neverland. She is brave and loyal to Peter Pan, and her tribe occasionally helps him in his battles against the pirates.

Mr. and Mrs. Darling –The caring and loving parents of Wendy, John, and Michael. Mrs. Darling especially worries about her children, while Mr. Darling is more pragmatic.

Nana –The Darling family’s dog who serves as the children’s nursemaid. Nana is protective and takes care of the children before they go to Neverland.

The Crocodile –A giant crocodile that swallowed Captain Hook’s hand and a clock. The ticking sound of the clock warns Hook whenever the crocodile is nearby, making it one of his greatest fears.

These characters are central to the magical adventures and conflicts in Peter Pan, each contributing to the whimsical and timeless world of Neverland.

Contents

1. Peter Breaks Through

2. The Shadow

3. Come Away, Come Away!

4. The Flight

5. The Island Come True

6. The Little House

7. The Home Under The Ground

8. The Mermaids’ Lagoon

9. The Never Bird

10. The Happy Home

11. Wendy’s Story

12. The Children Are Carried Off

13. Do You Believe In Fairies?

14. The Pirate Ship

15. “Hook Or Me This Time”

16. The Return Home

17. When Wendy Grew Up

1. Peter Breaks Through

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, “Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!” This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.

Of course they lived at 14, and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.

The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen who had been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously that they loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her except Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her. He got all of her, except the innermost box and the kiss. He never knew about the box, and in time he gave up trying for the kiss. Wendy thought Napoleon could have got it, but I can picture him trying, and then going off in a passion, slamming the door.

Mr. Darling used to boast to Wendy that her mother not only loved him but respected him. He was one of those deep ones who know about stocks and shares. Of course no one really knows, but he quite seemed to know, and he often said stocks were up and shares were down in a way that would have made any woman respect him.

Mrs. Darling was married in white, and at first she kept the books perfectly, almost gleefully, as if it were a game, not so much as a Brussels sprout was missing; but by and by whole cauliflowers dropped out, and instead of them there were pictures of babies without faces. She drew them when she should have been totting up. They were Mrs. Darling’s guesses.

Wendy came first, then John, then Michael.

For a week or two after Wendy came it was doubtful whether they would be able to keep her, as she was another mouth to feed. Mr. Darling was frightfully proud of her, but he was very honourable, and he sat on the edge of Mrs. Darling’s bed, holding her hand and calculating expenses, while she looked at him imploringly. She wanted to risk it, come what might, but that was not his way; his way was with a pencil and a piece of paper, and if she confused him with suggestions he had to begin at the beginning again.

“Now don’t interrupt,” he would beg of her.

“I have one pound seventeen here, and two and six at the office; I can cut off my coffee at the office, say ten shillings, making two nine and six, with your eighteen and three makes three nine seven, with five naught naught in my cheque-book makes eight nine seven—who is that moving?—eight nine seven, dot and carry seven—don’t speak, my own—and the pound you lent to that man who came to the door—quiet, child—dot and carry child—there, you’ve done it!—did I say nine nine seven? yes, I said nine nine seven; the question is, can we try it for a year on nine nine seven?”

“Of course we can, George,” she cried. But she was prejudiced in Wendy’s favour, and he was really the grander character of the two.

“Remember mumps,” he warned her almost threateningly, and off he went again. “Mumps one pound, that is what I have put down, but I daresay it will be more like thirty shillings—don’t speak—measles one five, German measles half a guinea, makes two fifteen six—don’t waggle your finger—whooping-cough, say fifteen shillings”—and so on it went, and it added up differently each time; but at last Wendy just got through, with mumps reduced to twelve six, and the two kinds of measles treated as one.

There was the same excitement over John, and Michael had even a narrower squeak; but both were kept, and soon, you might have seen the three of them going in a row to Miss Fulsom’s Kindergarten school, accompanied by their nurse.

Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr. Darling had a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, of course, they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amount of milk the children drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundland dog, called Nana, who had belonged to no one in particular until the Darlings engaged her. She had always thought children important, however, and the Darlings had become acquainted with her in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her spare time peeping into perambulators, and was much hated by careless nursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained of to their mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse. How thorough she was at bath-time, and up at any moment of the night if one of her charges made the slightest cry. Of course her kennel was in the nursery. She had a genius for knowing when a cough is a thing to have no patience with and when it needs stocking around your throat. She believed to her last day in old-fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaf, and made sounds of contempt over all this new-fangled talk about germs, and so on. It was a lesson in propriety to see her escorting the children to school, walking sedately by their side when they were well behaved, and butting them back into line if they strayed. On John’s footer days she never once forgot his sweater, and she usually carried an umbrella in her mouth in case of rain. There is a room in the basement of Miss Fulsom’s school where the nurses wait. They sat on forms, while Nana lay on the floor, but that was the only difference. They affected to ignore her as of an inferior social status to themselves, and she despised their light talk. She resented visits to the nursery from Mrs. Darling’s friends, but if they did come she first whipped off Michael’s pinafore and put him into the one with blue braiding, and smoothed out Wendy and made a dash at John’s hair.

No nursery could possibly have been conducted more correctly, and Mr. Darling knew it, yet he sometimes wondered uneasily whether the neighbours talked.

He had his position in the city to consider.

Nana also troubled him in another way. He had sometimes a feeling that she did not admire him. “I know she admires you tremendously, George,” Mrs. Darling would assure him, and then she would sign to the children to be specially nice to father. Lovely dances followed, in which the only other servant, Liza, was sometimes allowed to join. Such a midget she looked in her long skirt and maid’s cap, though she had sworn, when engaged, that she would never see ten again. The gaiety of those romps! And gayest of all was Mrs. Darling, who would pirouette so wildly that all you could see of her was the kiss, and then if you had dashed at her you might have got it. There never was a simpler happier family until the coming of Peter Pan.

Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her children’s minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can’t) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.

I don’t know whether you have ever seen a map of a person’s mind. Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your own map can become intensely interesting, but catch them trying to draw a map of a child’s mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going round all the time. There are zigzag lines on it, just like your temperature on a card, and these are probably roads in the island, for the Neverland is always more or less an island, with astonishing splashes of colour here and there, and coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in the offing, and savages and lonely lairs, and gnomes who are mostly tailors, and caves through which a river runs, and princes with six elder brothers, and a hut fast going to decay, and one very small old lady with a hooked nose. It would be an easy map if that were all, but there is also first day at school, religion, fathers, the round pond, needle-work, murders, hangings, verbs that take the dative, chocolate pudding day, getting into braces, say ninety-nine, three-pence for pulling out your tooth yourself, and so on, and either these are part of the island or they are another map showing through, and it is all rather confusing, especially as nothing will stand still.

Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal. John’s, for instance, had a lagoon with flamingoes flying over it at which John was shooting, while Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo with lagoons flying over it. John lived in a boat turned upside down on the sands, Michael in a wigwam, Wendy in a house of leaves deftly sewn together. John had no friends, Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf forsaken by its parents, but on the whole the Neverlands have a family resemblance, and if they stood still in a row you could say of them that they have each other’s nose, and so forth. On these magic shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.

Of all delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest and most compact, not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious distances between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed. When you play at it by day with the chairs and table-cloth, it is not in the least alarming, but in the two minutes before you go to sleep it becomes very real. That is why there are night-lights.

Occasionally in her travels through her children’s minds Mrs. Darling found things she could not understand, and of these quite the most perplexing was the word Peter. She knew of no Peter, and yet he was here and there in John and Michael’s minds, while Wendy’s began to be scrawled all over with him. The name stood out in bolder letters than any of the other words, and as Mrs. Darling gazed she felt that it had an oddly cocky appearance.

“Yes, he is rather cocky,” Wendy admitted with regret. Her mother had been questioning her.

“But who is he, my pet?”

“He is Peter Pan, you know, mother.”

At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened. She had believed in him at the time, but now that she was married and full of sense she quite doubted whether there was any such person.

“Besides,” she said to Wendy, “he would be grown up by this time.”

“Oh no, he isn’t grown up,” Wendy assured her confidently, “and he is just my size.” She meant that he was her size in both mind and body; she didn’t know how she knew, she just knew it.

Mrs. Darling consulted Mr. Darling, but he smiled pooh-pooh. “Mark my words,” he said, “it is some nonsense Nana has been putting into their heads; just the sort of idea a dog would have. Leave it alone, and it will blow over.”

But it would not blow over and soon the troublesome boy gave Mrs. Darling quite a shock.

Children have the strangest adventures without being troubled by them. For instance, they may remember to mention, a week after the event happened, that when they were in the wood they had met their dead father and had a game with him. It was in this casual way that Wendy one morning made a disquieting revelation. Some leaves of a tree had been found on the nursery floor, which certainly were not there when the children went to bed, and Mrs. Darling was puzzling over them when Wendy said with a tolerant smile:

“I do believe it is that Peter again!”

“Whatever do you mean, Wendy?”

“It is so naughty of him not to wipe his feet,” Wendy said, sighing. She was a tidy child.

She explained in quite a matter-of-fact way that she thought Peter sometimes came to the nursery in the night and sat on the foot of her bed and played on his pipes to her. Unfortunately she never woke, so she didn’t know how she knew, she just knew.

“What nonsense you talk, precious. No one can get into the house without knocking.”

“I think he comes in by the window,” she said.

“My love, it is three floors up.”

“Were not the leaves at the foot of the window, mother?”

It was quite true; the leaves had been found very near the window.

Mrs. Darling did not know what to think, for it all seemed so natural to Wendy that you could not dismiss it by saying she had been dreaming.

“My child,” the mother cried, “why did you not tell me of this before?”

“I forgot,” said Wendy lightly. She was in a hurry to get her breakfast.

Oh, surely she must have been dreaming.

But, on the other hand, there were the leaves. Mrs. Darling examined them very carefully; they were skeleton leaves, but she was sure they did not come from any tree that grew in England. She crawled about the floor, peering at it with a candle for marks of a strange foot. She rattled the poker up the chimney and tapped the walls. She let down a tape from the window to the pavement, and it was a sheer drop of thirty feet, without so much as a spout to climb up by.

Certainly Wendy had been dreaming.

But Wendy had not been dreaming, as the very next night showed, the night on which the extraordinary adventures of these children may be said to have begun.

On the night we speak of all the children were once more in bed. It happened to be Nana’s evening off, and Mrs. Darling had bathed them and sung to them till one by one they had let go her hand and slid away into the land of sleep.

All were looking so safe and cosy that she smiled at her fears now and sat down tranquilly by the fire to sew.

It was something for Michael, who on his birthday was getting into shirts. The fire was warm, however, and the nursery dimly lit by three night-lights, and presently the sewing lay on Mrs. Darling’s lap. Then her head nodded, oh, so gracefully. She was asleep. Look at the four of them, Wendy and Michael over there, John here, and Mrs. Darling by the fire. There should have been a fourth night-light.

While she slept she had a dream. She dreamt that the Neverland had come too near and that a strange boy had broken through from it. He did not alarm her, for she thought she had seen him before in the faces of many women who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found in the faces of some mothers also. But in her dream he had rent the film that obscures the Neverland, and she saw Wendy and John and Michael peeping through the gap.

The dream by itself would have been a trifle, but while she was dreaming the window of the nursery blew open, and a boy did drop on the floor. He was accompanied by a strange light, no bigger than your fist, which darted about the room like a living thing and I think it must have been this light that wakened Mrs. Darling.

She started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and somehow she knew at once that he was Peter Pan. If you or I or Wendy had been there we should have seen that he was very like Mrs. Darling’s kiss. He was a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that ooze out of trees but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth. When he saw she was a grown-up, he gnashed the little pearls at her.