The Life and Letters of Lewis Carroll by Stuart Dodgson Collingwood

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A few extracts from the Diary follow, written during the early part of
1894:--

_Feb._ 1_st.--Dies notandus._ As Ragg was reading
Prayers, and Bayne and I were the only M.A.'s in the stalls,
I tried the experiment of going to the lectern and reading
the lesson. I did not hesitate much, but feel it too great a
strain on the nerves to be tried often. Then I went to the
Latin Chapel for Holy Communion. Only Paget (Dean) and Dr.
Huntley came: so, for the first time in my recollection, it
had to be given up. Then I returned to my rooms, and found
in _The Standard_ the very important communication from
Gladstone denying the rumour that he has decided upon
resigning the Premiership, but admitting that, owing to
failing powers, it may come at any moment. It will make a
complete change in the position of politics! Then I got,
from Cook Wilson, what I have been so long trying for--an
accepted transcript of the fallacious argument over which we
have had an (apparently) endless fight. I think the end is
near, _now_.

_Feb._ 4_th._--The idea occurred to me that it
might be a pleasant variation in Backgammon to throw
_three_ dice, and choose any two of the three numbers.
The average quality of the throws would be much raised. I
reckon that the chance of "6, 6" would be about two and a
half what it now is. It would also furnish a means, similar
to giving points in billiards, for equalising players: the
weaker might use three dice, the other using two. I think of
calling it "Thirdie Backgammon."

_March_ 31_st._--Have just got printed, as a
leaflet, "A Disputed Point in Logic"--the point Professor
Wilson and I have been arguing so long. This paper is wholly
in his own words, and puts the point very clearly. I think
of submitting it to all my logical friends.

"A Disputed Point in Logic" appeared also, I believe, in
_Mind_, July, 1894.

This seems a fitting place in which to speak of a side of Mr.
Dodgson's character of which he himself was naturally very
reticent--his wonderful generosity. My own experience of him was of a
man who was always ready to do one a kindness, even though it put him
to great expense and inconvenience; but of course I did not know,
during his lifetime, that my experience of him was the same as that of
all his other friends. The income from his books and other sources,
which might have been spent in a life of luxury and selfishness, he
distributed lavishly where he saw it was needed, and in order to do
this he always lived in the most simple way. To make others happy was
the Golden Rule of his life. On August 31st he wrote, in a letter to a
friend, Miss Mary Brown: "And now what am I to tell you about myself?
To say I am quite well 'goes without saying' with me. In fact, my life
is so strangely free from all trial and trouble that I cannot doubt my
own happiness is one of the talents entrusted to me to 'occupy' with,
till the Master shall return, by doing something to make other lives
happy."

In several instances, where friends in needy circumstances have
written to him for loans of money, he has answered them, "I will not
_lend_, but I will _give_ you the L100 you ask for." To help
child-friends who wanted to go on the stage, or to take up music as a
profession, he has introduced them to leading actors and actresses,
paid for them having lessons in singing from the best masters, sent
round circulars to his numerous acquaintances begging them to
patronise the first concert or recital.

In writing his books he never attempted to win popularity by acceding
to the prejudices and frailties of the age--his one object was to make
his books useful and helpful and ennobling. Like the great Master, in
whose steps he so earnestly strove to follow, he "went about doing
good." And one is glad to think that even his memory is being made to
serve the same purpose. The "Alice" cots are a worthy sequel to his
generous life.

Even Mr. Dodgson, with all his boasted health, was not absolutely
proof against disease, for on February 12, 1895, he writes:--

Tenth day of a rather bad attack of influenza of the ague
type. Last night the fever rose to a great height, partly
caused by a succession of _five_ visitors. One,
however, was of my own seeking--Dean Paget, to whom I was
thankful to be able to tell all I have had in my mind for a
year or more, as to our Chapel services _not_ being as
helpful as they could be made. The chief fault is extreme
_rapidity_. I long ago gave up the attempt to say the
Confession at that pace; and now I say it, and the Lord's
Prayer, close together, and never hear a word of the
Absolution. Also many of the Lessons are quite unedifying.

On July 11th he wrote to my brother on the subject of a paper about
Eternal Punishment, which was to form the first of a series of essays
on Religious Difficulties:--

I am sending you the article on "Eternal Punishment" as it
is. There is plenty of matter for consideration, as to which
I shall be glad to know your views.

Also if there are other points, connected with religion,
where you feel that perplexing difficulties exist, I should
be glad to know of them in order to see whether I can see my
way to saying anything helpful.

But I had better add that I do not want to deal with any
such difficulties, _unless_ they tend to affect _life.
Speculative_ difficulties which do not affect conduct, and
which come into collision with any of the principles which I
intend to state as axioms, lie outside the scope of my book.
These axioms are:--

(1) Human conduct is capable of being _right_, and of
being _wrong_.

(2) I possess Free-Will, and am able to choose between
right and wrong.

(3) I have in some cases chosen wrong.

(4) I am responsible for choosing wrong.

(5) I am responsible to a person.

(6) This person is perfectly good.

I call them axioms, because I have no _proofs_ to offer for
them. There will probably be others, but these are all I can
think of just now.

The Rev. H. Hopley, Vicar of Westham, has sent me the following
interesting account of a sermon Mr. Dodgson preached at his church:--

In the autumn of 1895 the Vicar of Eastbourne was to have
preached my Harvest Sermon at Westham, a village five miles
away; but something or other intervened, and in the middle
of the week I learned he could not come. A mutual friend
suggested my asking Mr. Dodgson, who was then in Eastbourne,
to help me, and I went with him to his rooms. I was quite a
stranger to Mr. Dodgson; but knowing from hearsay how
reluctant he usually was to preach, I apologised and
explained my position--with Sunday so near at hand. After a
moment's hesitation he consented, and in a most genial
manner made me feel quite at ease as to the abruptness of my
petition. On the morrow he came over to my vicarage, and
made friends with my daughters, teaching them some new
manner of playing croquet [probably Castle Croquet], and
writing out for them puzzles and anagrams that he had
composed.

The following letter was forwarded on the Saturday:--

"7, Lushington Road, Eastbourne,

_September_ 26, 1895.

Dear Mr. Hopley,--I think you will excuse the liberty
I am taking in asking you to give me some food after the
service on Sunday, so that I may have no need to catch the
train, but can walk back at leisure. This will save me from
the worry of trying to conclude at an exact minute, and
you, perhaps, from the trouble of finding short hymns, to save
time. It will not, I hope, cause your cook any trouble, as
my regular rule here is _cold_ dinner on Sundays. This not
from any "Sabbatarian" theory, but from the wish to let our
_employes_ have the day _wholly_ at their own disposal.

I beg Miss Hopley's acceptance of the enclosed papers--
(puzzles and diagrams.)

Believe me, very truly yours,

C.L. Dodgson."

On Sunday our grand old church was crowded, and, although
our villagers are mostly agricultural labourers, yet they
breathlessly listened to a sermon forty minutes long, and
apparently took in every word of it. It was quite extempore,
in very simple words, and illustrated by some delightful and
most touching stories of children. I only wish there had
been a shorthand-writer there.

In the vestry after service, while he was signing his name
in the Preachers' Book, a church officer handed him a bit of
paper. "Mr. Dodgson, would you very kindly write your name
on that?" "Sir!" drawing himself up sternly--"Sir, I never
do that for any one"--and then, more kindly, "You see, if I
did it for one, I must do it for all."

An amusing incident in Mr. Dodgson's life is connected with the
well-known drama, "Two Little Vagabonds." I give the story as he wrote
it in his Diary:--

_Nov._ 28_th.--Matinee_ at the Princess's of "Two Little
Vagabonds," a very sensational melodrama, capitally acted.
"Dick" and "Wally" were played by Kate Tyndall and Sydney
Fairbrother, whom I guess to be about fifteen and twelve.
Both were excellent, and the latter remarkable for the
perfect realism of her acting. There was some beautiful
religious dialogue between "Wally" and a hospital nurse--
most reverently spoken, and reverently received by the
audience.

_Dec._ 17_th._--I have given books to Kate Tyndall and
Sydney Fairbrother, and have heard from them, and find I was
entirely mistaken in taking them for children. Both are
married women!

The following is an extract from a letter written in 1896 to one of
his sisters, in allusion to a death which had recently occurred in the
family:--

It is getting increasingly difficult now to remember _which_
of one's friends remain alive, and _which_ have gone "into
the land of the great departed, into the silent land." Also,
such news comes less and less as a shock, and more and more
one realises that it is an experience each of _us_ has to
face before long. That fact is getting _less_ dreamlike to
me now, and I sometimes think what a grand thing it will be
to be able to say to oneself, "Death is _over_ now; there is
not _that_ experience to be faced again."

I am beginning to think that, if the _books I_ am still
hoping to write are to be done _at all,_ they must be done
_now_, and that I am _meant_ thus to utilise the splendid
health I have had, unbroken, for the last year and a half,
and the working powers that are fully as great as, if not
greater, than I have ever had. I brought with me here (this
letter was written from Eastbourne) the MS., such as it is
(very fragmentary and unarranged) for the book about
religious difficulties, and I meant, when I came here, to
devote myself to that, but I have changed my plan. It seems
to me that _that_ subject is one that hundreds of living men
could do, if they would only try, _much_ better than I
could, whereas there is no living man who could (or at any
rate who would take the trouble to) arrange and finish and
publish the second part of the "Logic." Also, I _have_ the
Logic book in my head; it will only need three or four
months to write out, and I have _not_ got the other book in
my head, and it might take years to think out. So I have
decided to get Part ii. finished _first_, and I am working
at it day and night. I have taken to early rising, and
sometimes sit down to my work before seven, and have one and
a half hours at it before breakfast. The book will be a
great novelty, and will help, I fully believe, to make the
study of Logic _far_ easier than it now is. And it will, I
also believe, be a help to religious thought by giving
_clearness_ of conception and of expression, which may
enable many people to face, and conquer, many religious
difficulties for themselves. So I do really regard it as
work for _God_.

Another letter, written a few months later to Miss Dora Abdy, deals
with the subject of "Reverence," which Mr. Dodgson considered a virtue
not held in sufficient esteem nowadays:--

My Dear Dora,--In correcting the proofs of "Through the
Looking-Glass" (which is to have "An Easter Greeting"
inserted at the end), I am reminded that in that letter (I
enclose a copy), I had tried to express my thoughts on the
very subject we talked about last night--the relation of
_laughter_ to religious thought. One of the hardest things
in the world is to convey a meaning accurately from one mind
to another, but the _sort_ of meaning I want to convey to
other minds is that while the laughter of _joy_ is in full
harmony with our deeper life, the laughter of amusement
should be kept apart from it. The danger is too great of
thus learning to look at solemn things in a spirit of
_mockery_, and to seek in them opportunities for exercising
_wit_. That is the spirit which has spoiled, for me, the
beauty of some of the Bible. Surely there is a deep meaning
in our prayer, "Give us an heart to love and _dread_ Thee."
We do not mean _terror_: but a dread that will harmonise
with love; "respect" we should call it as towards a human
being, "reverence" as towards God and all religious things.

Yours affectionately,

C.L. Dodgson.

In his "Game of Logic" Lewis Carroll introduced an original method of
working logical problems by means of diagrams; this method he
superseded in after years for a much simpler one, the method of
"Subscripts."

In "Symbolic Logic, Part i." (London: Macmillan, 1896) he employed
both methods. The Introduction is specially addressed "to Learners,"
whom Lewis Carroll advises to read the book straight through, without
_dipping_.

This Rule [he says] is very desirable with other kinds of
books--such as novels, for instance, where you may easily
spoil much of the enjoyment you would otherwise get from the
story by dipping into it further on, so that what the author
meant to be a pleasant surprise comes to you as a matter of
course. Some people, I know, make a practice of looking into
vol. iii. first, just to see how the story ends; and perhaps
it _is_ as well just to know that all ends
_happily_--that the much persecuted lovers _do_
marry after all, that he is proved to be quite innocent of
the murder, that the wicked cousin is completely foiled in
his plot, and gets the punishment he deserves, and that the
rich uncle in India (_Qu._ Why in _India? Ans._
Because, somehow, uncles never _can_ get rich anywhere
else) dies at exactly the right moment--before taking the
trouble to read vol i. This, I say, is _just_
permissible with a _novel_, where vol. iii. has a
_meaning_, even for those who have not read the earlier
part of the story; but with a _scientific_ book, it is
sheer insanity. You will find the latter part
_hopelessly_ unintelligible, if you read it before
reaching it in regular course.

* * * * *

CHAPTER IX

(1897-1898)

Logic-lectures--Irreverent anecdotes--Tolerance of his
religious views--A mathematical discovery--"The Little
Minister" Sir George Baden-Powell--Last illness--"Thy will
be done"--"Wonderland" at last!--Letters from friends "Three
Sunsets"--"Of such is the kingdom of Heaven."

The year 1897, the last complete year which he was destined to spend,
began for Mr. Dodgson at Guildford. On January 3rd he preached in the
morning at the beautiful old church of S. Mary's, the church which he
always attended when he was staying with his sisters at the Chestnuts.

On the 5th he began a course of Logic Lectures at Abbot's Hospital.
The Rev. A. Kingston, late curate of Holy Trinity and S. Mary's
Parishes, Guildford, had requested him to do this, and he had given
his promise if as many as six people could be got together to hear
him. Mr. Kingston canvassed the town so well that an audience of about
thirty attended the first lecture.

[Illustration: Lewis Carroll. _From a photograph._]

A long Sunday walk was always a feature of Mr. Dodgson's life in the
vacations. In earlier years the late Mr. W. Watson was his usual
companion at Guildford. The two men were in some respects very much
alike; a peculiar gentleness of character, a winning charm of manner
which no one could resist, distinguished them both. After Mr. Watson's
death his companion was usually one of the following Guildford
clergymen: the Rev. J.H. Robson, LL.D., the Rev. H.R. Ware, and the
Rev. A. Kingston.

On the 26th Mr. Dodgson paid a visit to the Girls' High School, to
show the pupils some mathematical puzzles, and to teach the elder ones
his "Memoria Technica." On the 28th he returned to Oxford, so as to be
up in time for term.

I have said that he always refused invitations to dinner; accordingly
his friends who knew of this peculiarity, and wished to secure him for
a special evening, dared not actually invite him, but wrote him little
notes stating that on such and such days they would be dining at home.
Thus there is an entry in his Journal for February 10th:

"Dined with Mrs. G--(She had not sent an
'invitation'--only 'information')."

His system of symbolic logic enabled him to work out the most complex
problems with absolute certainty in a surprisingly short time. Thus he
wrote on the 15th: "Made a splendid logic-problem, about
"great-grandsons" (modelled on one by De Morgan). My method of
solution is quite new, and I greatly doubt if any one will solve the
Problem. I have sent it to Cook Wilson."

On March 7th he preached in the University Church, the first occasion
on which he had done so:--

There is now [he writes] a system established of a course of
six sermons at S. Mary's each year, for University men
_only_, and specially meant for undergraduates. They
are preached, preceded by a few prayers and a hymn, at
half-past eight. This evening ended the course for this
term: and it was my great privilege to preach. It has been
the most formidable sermon I have ever had to preach, and it
is a _great_ relief to have it over. I took, as text,
Job xxviii. 28, "And unto man he said, The fear of the Lord,
that is wisdom"--and the prayer in the Litany "Give us an
heart to love and dread thee." It lasted three-quarters of
an hour.

One can imagine how he would have treated the subject. The views which
he held on the subject of reverence were, so at least it appears to
me, somewhat exaggerated; they are well expressed in a letter which he
wrote to a friend of his, during the year, and which runs as
follows:--

Dear--, After changing my mind several times, I have at
last decided to venture to ask a favour of you, and to trust
that you will not misinterpret my motives in doing so.

The favour I would ask is, that you will not tell me any
more stories, such as you did on Friday, of remarks which
children are said to have made on very sacred subjects--
remarks which most people would recognise as irreverent, if
made by _grown-up people_, but which are assumed to be
innocent when made by children who are unconscious of any
irreverence, the strange conclusion being drawn that they
are therefore innocent when _repeated_ by a grown-up person.

The misinterpretation I would guard against is, your
supposing that I regard such repetition as always _wrong_ in
any grown-up person. Let me assure you that I do _not_ so
regard it. I am always willing to believe that those who
repeat such stories differ wholly from myself in their views
of what is, and what is not, fitting treatment of sacred
things, and I fully recognise that what would certainly be
wrong in _me_, is not necessarily so in _them_.

So I simply ask it as a personal favour to myself. The
hearing of that anecdote gave me so much pain, and spoiled
so much the pleasure of my tiny dinner-party, that I feel
sure you will kindly spare me such in future.

One further remark. There are quantities of such anecdotes
going about. I don't in the least believe that 5 per cent.
of them were ever said by _children_. I feel sure that most
of them are concocted by people who _wish_ to bring sacred
subjects into ridicule--sometimes by people who _wish_ to
undermine the belief that others have in religious truths:
for there is no surer way of making one's beliefs _unreal_
than by learning to associate them with ludicrous ideas.

Forgive the freedom with which I have said all this.

Sincerely yours,

C.L. Dodgson.

The entry in the Diary for April 11th (Sunday) is interesting:--

Went my eighteen-mile round by Besilsleigh. From my rooms
back to them again, took me five hours and twenty-seven
minutes. Had "high tea" at twenty minutes past seven. This
entails only leaving a plate of cold meat, and gives much
less trouble than hot dinner at six.

Dinner at six has been my rule since January 31st, when it
began--I then abandoned the seven o'clock Sunday dinner, of
which I entirely disapprove. It has prevented, for two
terms, the College Servants' Service.

On May 12th he wrote:--

As the Prince of Wales comes this afternoon to open the Town
Hall, I went round to the Deanery to invite them to come
through my rooms upon the roof, to see the procession
arrive.... A party of about twenty were on my roof in the
afternoon, including Mrs. Moberly, Mrs. Driver, and Mrs.
Baynes, and most, if not all, of the children in Christ
Church. Dinner in Hall at eight. The Dean had the Prince on
his right, and Lord Salisbury on his left. My place was almost
_vis-a-vis_ with the Prince. He and the Dean were the
only speakers. We did not get out of Hall till nearly ten.

In June he bought a "Whiteley Exerciser," and fixed it up in his
rooms. One would have thought that he would have found his long walks
sufficient exercise (an eighteen-mile round was, as we have seen, no
unusual thing for him to undertake), but apparently it was not so. He
was so pleased with the "Exerciser," that he bought several more of
them, and made presents of them to his friends.

As an instance of his broad-mindedness, the following extract from his
Diary for June 20th is interesting. It must be premised that E--was a
young friend of his who had recently become a member of the Roman
Catholic Church, and that their place of worship in Oxford is
dedicated to S. Aloysius.

I went with E-- to S. Aloysius. There was much beauty in the
service, part of which consisted in a procession, with
banner, all round the church, carrying the Host, preceded by
a number of girls in white, with veils (who had all had
their first communion that morning), strewing flowers. Many
of them were quite little things of about seven. The sermon
(by Father Richardson) was good and interesting, and in a
very loyal tone about the Queen.

A letter he wrote some years before to a friend who had asked him
about his religious opinions reveals the same catholicity of mind:--

I am a member of the English Church, and have taken Deacon's
Orders, but did not think fit (for reasons I need not go
into) to take Priest's Orders. My dear father was what is
called a "High Churchman," and I naturally adopted those
views, but have always felt repelled by the yet higher
development called "Ritualism."

But I doubt if I am fully a "High Churchman" now. I find
that as life slips away (I am over fifty now), and the life
on the other side of the great river becomes more and more
the reality, of which _this_ is only a shadow, that the
petty distinctions of the many creeds of Christendom tend to
slip away as well--leaving only the great truths which all
Christians believe alike. More and more, as I read of the
Christian religion, as Christ preached it, I stand amazed at
the forms men have given to it, and the fictitious barriers
they have built up between themselves and their brethren. I
believe that when you and I come to lie down for the last
time, if only we can keep firm hold of the great truths
Christ taught us--our own utter worthlessness and His
infinite worth; and that He has brought us back to our one
Father, and made us His brethren, and so brethren to one
another--we shall have all we need to guide us through the
shadows.

Most assuredly I accept to the full the doctrines you refer
to--that Christ died to save us, that we have no other way
of salvation open to us but through His death, and that it
is by faith in Him, and through no merit of ours, that we
are reconciled to God; and most assuredly I can cordially
say, "I owe all to Him who loved me, and died on the Cross
of Calvary."

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