The Life and Letters of Lewis Carroll by Stuart Dodgson Collingwood

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Mama.

Among the few visitors who disturbed the repose of Daresbury Parsonage
was Mr. Durnford, afterwards Bishop of Chichester, with whom Mr.
Dodgson had formed a close friendship. Another was Mr. Bayne, at that
time head-master of Warrington Grammar School, who used occasionally
to assist in the services at Daresbury. His son, Vere, was Charles's
playfellow; he is now a student of Christ Church, and the friendship
between him and Lewis Carroll lasted without interruption till the
death of the latter.

The memory of his birthplace did not soon fade from Charles's mind;
long afterwards he retained pleasant recollections of its rustic
beauty. For instance, his poem of "The Three Sunsets," which first
appeared in 1860 in _All the Year Round,_ begins with the
following stanzas, which have been slightly altered in later
editions:--

I watch the drowsy night expire,
And Fancy paints at my desire
Her magic pictures in the fire.

An island farm, 'mid seas of corn,
Swayed by the wandering breath of morn,
The happy spot where I was born.

Though nearly all Mr. Dodgson's parishioners at Daresbury have passed
away, yet there are still some few left who speak with loving
reverence of him whose lips, now long silenced, used to speak so
kindly to them; whose hands, long folded in sleep, were once so ready
to alleviate their wants and sorrows.

In 1843 Sir Robert Peel presented him to the Crown living of Croft, a
Yorkshire village about three miles south of Darlington. This
preferment made a great change in the life of the family; it opened
for them many more social opportunities, and put an end to that life
of seclusion which, however beneficial it may be for a short time, is
apt, if continued too long, to have a cramping and narrowing
influence.

The river Tees is at Croft the dividing line between Yorkshire and
Durham, and on the middle of the bridge which there crosses it is a
stone which shows where the one county ends and the other begins.
"Certain lands are held in this place," says Lewis in his
"Topographical Dictionary," "by the owner presenting on the bridge, at
the coming of every new Bishop of Durham, an old sword, pronouncing a
legendary address, and delivering the sword to the Bishop, who returns
it immediately." The Tees is subject to extraordinary floods, and
though Croft Church stands many feet above the ordinary level of the
river, and is separated from it by the churchyard and a field, yet on
one occasion the church itself was flooded, as was attested by
water-marks on the old woodwork several feet from the floor, still to
be seen when Mr. Dodgson was incumbent.

This church, which is dedicated to St. Peter, is a quaint old building
with a Norman porch, the rest of it being of more modern construction.
It contains a raised pew, which is approached by a winding flight of
stairs, and is covered in, so that it resembles nothing so much as a
four-post bedstead. This pew used to belong to the Milbanke family,
with which Lord Byron was connected. Mr. Dodgson found the
chancel-roof in so bad a state of repair that he was obliged to take
it down, and replace it by an entirely new one. The only village
school that existed when he came to the place was a sort of barn,
which stood in a corner of the churchyard. During his incumbency a
fine school-house was erected. Several members of his family used
regularly to help in teaching the children, and excellent reports were
obtained.

The Rectory is close to the church, and stands in the middle of a
beautiful garden. The former incumbent had been an enthusiastic
horticulturist, and the walls of the kitchen garden were covered with
luxuriant fruit-trees, while the greenhouses were well stocked with
rare and beautiful exotics. Among these was a specimen of that
fantastic cactus, the night-blowing Cereus, whose flowers, after an
existence of but a few hours, fade with the waning sun. On the day
when this occurred large numbers of people used to obtain Mr.
Dodgson's leave to see the curiosity.

[Illustration: Croft Rectory]

Near the Rectory is a fine hotel, built when Croft was an important
posting-station for the coaches between London and Edinburgh, but in
Mr. Dodgson's time chiefly used by gentlemen who stayed there during
the hunting season. The village is renowned for its baths and
medicinal waters. The parish of Croft includes the outlying hamlets of
Halnaby, Dalton, and Stapleton, so that the Rector's position is by no
means a sinecure. Within the village is Croft Hall, the old seat of
the Chaytors; but during Mr. Dodgson's incumbency the then Sir William
Chaytor built and lived at Clervaux Castle, calling it by an old
family name.

Shortly after accepting the living of Croft, Mr. Dodgson was appointed
examining chaplain to the Bishop of Ripon; subsequently he was made
Archdeacon of Richmond and one of the Canons of Ripon Cathedral.

Charles was at this time very fond of inventing games for the
amusement of his brothers and sisters; he constructed a rude train out
of a wheelbarrow, a barrel and a small truck, which used to convey
passengers from one "station" in the Rectory garden to another. At
each of these stations there was a refreshment-room, and the
passengers had to purchase tickets from him before they could enjoy
their ride. The boy was also a clever conjuror, and, arrayed in a
brown wig and a long white robe, used to cause no little wonder to his
audience by his sleight-of-hand. With the assistance of various
members of the family and the village carpenter, he made a troupe of
marionettes and a small theatre for them to act in. He wrote all the
plays himself the most popular being "The Tragedy of King John"--and
he was very clever at manipulating the innumerable strings by which
the movements of his puppets were regulated. One winter, when the snow
lay thick upon the lawn, he traced upon it a maze of such hopeless
intricacy as almost to put its famous rival at Hampton Court in the
shade.

[Illustration: Toy Station in garden at Croft.]

When he was twelve years old his father sent him to school at
Richmond, under Mr. Tate, a worthy son of that well-known Dr. Tate who
had made Richmond School so famous.

I am able to give his earliest impressions of school-life in his own
words, for one of his first letters home has been fortunately
preserved. It is dated August 5th, and is addressed to his two eldest
sisters. A boy who has _ten_ brothers and sisters can scarcely be
expected to write separate letters to each of them.

My dear Fanny and Memy,--I hope you are all getting on well,
as also the sweet twins, the boys I think that I like the
best, are Harry Austin, and all the Tates of which there are
7 besides a little girl who came down to dinner the first
day, but not since, and I also like Edmund Tremlet, and
William and Edward Swire, Tremlet is a sharp little fellow
about 7 years old, the youngest in the school, I also like
Kemp and Mawley. The rest of the boys that I know are
Bertram, Harry and Dick Wilson, and two Robinsons, I will
tell you all about them when I return. The boys have played
two tricks upon me which were these--they first proposed to
play at "King of the Cobblers" and asked if I would be king,
to which I agreed. Then they made me sit down and sat (on
the ground) in a circle round me, and told me to say "Go to
work" which I said, and they immediately began kicking me
and knocking me on all sides. The next game they proposed
was "Peter, the red lion," and they made a mark on a
tombstone (for we were playing in the churchyard) and one of
the boys walked with his eyes shut, holding out his finger,
trying to touch the mark; then a little boy came forward to
lead the rest and led a good many very near the mark; at
last it was my turn; they told me to shut my eyes well, and
the next minute I had my finger in the mouth of one of the
boys, who had stood (I believe) before the tombstone with
his mouth open. For 2 nights I slept alone, and for the rest
of the time with Ned Swire. The boys play me no tricks now.
The only fault (tell Mama) that there has been was coming in
one day to dinner just after grace. On Sunday we went to
church in the morning, and sat in a large pew with Mr.
Fielding, the church we went to is close by Mr. Tate's
house, we did not go in the afternoon but Mr. Tate read a
discourse to the boys on the 5th commandment. We went to
church again in the evening. Papa wished me to tell him all
the texts I had heard preached upon, please to tell him that
I could not hear it in the morning nor hardly one sentence
of the sermon, but the one in the evening was I Cor. i. 23.
I believe it was a farewell sermon, but I am not sure. Mrs.
Tate has looked through my clothes and left in the trunk a
great many that will not be wanted. I have had 3 misfortunes
in my clothes etc. 1st, I cannot find my tooth-brush, so
that I have not brushed my teeth for 3 or 4 days, 2nd, I
cannot find my blotting paper, and 3rd, I have no shoe-horn.
The chief games are, football, wrestling, leap frog, and
fighting. Excuse bad writing.

Yr affec' brother Charles.

_To_ SKEFF [_a younger brother, aged six_].

My dear Skeff,--Roar not lest thou be abolished. Yours,
etc.,--.

The discomforts which he, as a "new boy," had to put up with from his
school-mates affected him as they do not, unfortunately, affect most
boys, for in later school days he was famous as a champion of the weak
and small, while every bully had good reason to fear him. Though it is
hard for those who have only known him as the gentle and retiring don
to believe it, it is nevertheless true that long after he left school
his name was remembered as that of a boy who knew well how to use his
fists in defence of a righteous cause.

As was the custom at that time, Charles began to compose Latin verses
at a very early age, his first copy being dated November 25, 1844. The
subject was evening, and this is how he treated it:--

Phoebus aqua splendet descendens, aequora tingens
Splendore aurato. Pervenit umbra solo.
Mortales lectos quaerunt, et membra relaxant
Fessa labore dies; cuncta per orbe silet.
Imperium placidum nunc sumit Phoebe corusca.
Antris procedunt sanguine ore ferae.

These lines the boy solemnly copied into his Diary, apparently in the
most blissful ignorance of the numerous mistakes they contained.

The next year he wrote a story which appeared in the school magazine.
It was called "The Unknown One," so it was probably of the sensational
type in which small boys usually revel.

Though Richmond School, as it was in 1844, may not compare favourably
in every respect with a modern preparatory school, where supervision
has been so far "reduced to the absurd" that the unfortunate masters
hardly get a minute to themselves from sunrise till long after sunset,
yet no better or wiser men than those of the school of Mr. Tate are
now to be found. Nor, I venture to think, are the results of the
modern system more successful than those of the old one. Charles loved
his "kind old schoolmaster," as he affectionately calls him, and
surely to gain the love of the boys is the main battle in
school-management.

The impression he made upon his instructors may be gathered from the
following extracts from Mr. Tate's first report upon him:

Sufficient opportunities having been allowed me to draw from
actual observation an estimate of your son's character and
abilities, I do not hesitate to express my opinion that he
possesses, along with other and excellent natural
endowments, a very uncommon share of genius. Gentle and
cheerful in his intercourse with others, playful and ready
in conversation, he is capable of acquirements and knowledge
far beyond his years, while his reason is so clear and so
jealous of error, that he will not rest satisfied without a
most exact solution of whatever appears to him obscure. He
has passed an excellent examination just now in mathematics,
exhibiting at times an illustration of that love of precise
argument, which seems to him natural.

I must not omit to set off against these great advantages
one or two faults, of which the removal as soon as possible
is desirable, tho' I am prepared to find it a work of time.
As you are well aware, our young friend, while jealous of
error, as I said above, where important faith or principles
are concerned, is exceedingly lenient towards lesser
frailties--and, whether in reading aloud or metrical
composition, frequently sets at nought the notions of Virgil
or Ovid as to syllabic quantity. He is moreover marvellously
ingenious in replacing the ordinary inflexions of nouns and
verbs, as detailed in our grammars, by more exact analogies,
or convenient forms of his own devising. This source of
fault will in due time exhaust itself, though flowing freely
at present.... You may fairly anticipate for him a bright
career. Allow me, before I close, one suggestion which
assumes for itself the wisdom of experience and the
sincerity of the best intention. You must not entrust your
son with a full knowledge of his superiority over other
boys. Let him discover this as he proceeds. The love of
excellence is far beyond the love of excelling; and if he
should once be bewitched into a mere ambition to surpass
others I need not urge that the very quality of his
knowledge would be materially injured, and that his
character would receive a stain of a more serious
description still....

And again, when Charles was leaving Richmond, he wrote:

"Be assured that I shall always feel a peculiar interest in
the gentle, intelligent, and well-conducted boy who is now
leaving us."

Although his father had been a Westminster boy, Charles was, for some
reason or other, sent to Rugby. The great Arnold, who had, one might
almost say, created Rugby School, and who certainly had done more for
it than all his predecessors put together, had gone to his rest, and
for four years the reins of government had been in the firm hands of
Dr. Tait, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. He was Headmaster
during the whole of the time Charles was at Rugby, except the last
year, during which Dr. Goulburn held that office. Charles went up in
February, 1846, and he must have found his new life a great change
from his quiet experiences at Richmond. Football was in full swing,
and one can imagine that to a new boy "Big-side" was not an unalloyed
delight. Whether he distinguished himself as a "dropper," or ever beat
the record time in the "Crick" run, I do not know. Probably not; his
abilities did not lie much in the field of athletics. But he got on
capitally with his work, and seldom returned home without one or more
prizes. Moreover, he conducted himself so well that he never had to
enter that dreaded chamber, well known to _some_ Rugbeians, which
is approached by a staircase that winds up a little turret, and
wherein are enacted scenes better imagined than described.

[Illustration: Archbishop Tait. _From a photograph by
Messrs. Elliott and Fry_]

A schoolboy's letter home is not, usually, remarkable for the
intelligence displayed in it; as a rule it merely leads up with more
or less ingenuity to the inevitable request for money contained in the
postscript. Some of Charles's letters were of a different sort, as the
following example shows:

Yesterday evening I was walking out with a friend of mine
who attends as mathematical pupil Mr. Smythies the second
mathematical master; we went up to Mr. Smythies' house, as
he wanted to speak to him, and he asked us to stop and have
a glass of wine and some figs. He seems as devoted to his
duty as Mr. Mayor, and asked me with a smile of delight,
"Well Dodgson I suppose you're getting well on with your
mathematics?" He is very clever at them, though not equal to
Mr. Mayor, as indeed few men are, Papa excepted.... I have
read the first number of Dickens' new tale, "Davy
Copperfield." It purports to be his life, and begins with
his birth and childhood; it seems a poor plot, but some of
the characters and scenes are good. One of the persons that
amused me was a Mrs. Gummidge, a wretched melancholy person,
who is always crying, happen what will, and whenever the
fire smokes, or other trifling accident occurs, makes the
remark with great bitterness, and many tears, that she is a
"lone lorn creetur, and everything goes contrairy with her."
I have not yet been able to get the second volume Macaulay's
"England" to read. I have seen it however and one passage
struck me when seven bishops had signed the invitation to
the pretender, and King James sent for Bishop Compton (who
was one of the seven) and asked him "whether he or any of
his ecclesiastical brethren had anything to do with it?" He
replied, after a moment's thought "I am fully persuaded your
majesty, that there is not one of my brethren who is not as
innocent in the matter as myself." This was certainly no
actual lie, but certainly, as Macaulay says, it was very
little different from one.

The Mr. Mayor who is mentioned in this letter formed a very high
opinion of his pupil's ability, for in 1848 he wrote to Archdeacon
Dodgson: "I have not had a more promising boy at his age since I came
to Rugby."

Dr. Tait speaks no less warmly:--

My dear Sir,--I must not allow your son to leave school
without expressing to you the very high opinion I entertain
of him. I fully coincide in Mr. Cotton's estimate both of
his abilities and upright conduct. His mathematical
knowledge is great for his age, and I doubt not he will do
himself credit in classics. As I believe I mentioned to you
before, his examination for the Divinity prize was one of
the most creditable exhibitions I have ever seen.

During the whole time of his being in my house, his conduct
has been excellent.

Believe me to be, My dear Sir,

Yours very faithfully,

A.C. TAIT.

Public school life then was not what it is now; the atrocious system
then in vogue of setting hundreds of lines for the most trifling
offences made every day a weariness and a hopeless waste of time,
while the bad discipline which was maintained in the dormitories made
even the nights intolerable--especially for the small boys, whose beds
in winter were denuded of blankets that the bigger ones might not feel
cold.

Charles kept no diary during his time at Rugby; but, looking back upon
it, he writes in 1855:--

During my stay I made I suppose some progress in learning of
various kinds, but none of it was done _con amore_, and
I spent an incalculable time in writing out
impositions--this last I consider one of the chief faults of
Rugby School. I made some friends there, the most intimate
being Henry Leigh Bennett (as college acquaintances we find
fewer common sympathies, and are consequently less
intimate)--but I cannot say that I look back upon my life at
a Public School with any sensations of pleasure, or that any
earthly considerations would induce me to go through my
three years again.

When, some years afterwards, he visited Radley School, he was much
struck by the cubicle system which prevails in the dormitories there,
and wrote in his Diary, "I can say that if I had been thus secure from
annoyance at night, the hardships of the daily life would have been
comparative trifles to bear."

The picture on page 32 was, I believe, drawn by Charles rile he was
at Rugby in illustration of a letter received from one of his sisters.
Halnaby, as I have said before, was an outlying district of Croft
parish.

During his holidays he used to amuse himself by editing local
magazines. Indeed, they might be called _very local_ magazines,
as their circulation was confined to the inmates of Croft Rectory. The
first of these, _Useful and Instructive Poetry_, was written
about 1845. It came to an untimely end after a six months' run, and
was followed at varying intervals by several other periodicals,
equally short-lived.

In 1849 or 1850, _The Rectory Umbrella_ began to appear. As the
editor was by this time seventeen or eighteen years old, it was
naturally of a more ambitious character than any of its precursors. It
contained a serial story of the most thrilling interest, entitled,
"The Walking-Stick of Destiny," some meritorious poetry, a few
humorous essays, and several caricatures of pictures in the Vernon
Gallery. Three reproductions of these pictures follow, with extracts
from the _Umbrella_ descriptive of them.

[Illustration: The only sister who _would_ write to her
brother, though the table had just "folded down"! The other sisters
are depicted "sternly resolved to set off to Halnaby & the Castle,"
tho' it is yet "early, early morning"--Rembrondt.]

THE VERNON GALLERY.

As our readers will have seen by the preceding page, we
have commenced engraving the above series of pictures. "The
Age of Innocence," by Sir J. Reynolds, representing a young
Hippopotamus seated under a shady tree, presents to the
contemplative mind a charming union of youth and innocence.

EDITOR.

[Illustration: _"The Scanty Meal."_]

We have been unusually[001] successful in our second
engraving from the Vernon Gallery. The picture is
intended, as our readers will perceive, to illustrate the
evils of homoeopathy.[002] This idea is well carried out
through the whole picture. The thin old lady at the head of
the table is in the painter's best style; we almost fancy we
can trace in the eye of the other lady a lurking suspicion
that her glasses are not really in fault, and that the old
gentleman has helped her to _nothing_ instead of a
nonillionth.[003] Her companion has evidently got an empty
glass in his hand; the two children in front are admirably
managed, and there is a sly smile on the footman's face, as
if he thoroughly enjoyed either the bad news he is bringing
or the wrath of his mistress. The carpet is executed with
that elaborate care for which Mr. Herring is so famed, and
the picture on the whole is one of his best.

"_The First Ear-ring_"

The scene from which this excellent picture is painted
is taken from a passage in the autobiography[004] of the
celebrated Sir William Smith[005] of his life when a
schoolboy: we transcribe the passage: "One day Bill
Tomkins[006] and I were left alone in the house, the old
doctor being out; after playing a number of pranks Bill laid
me a bet of sixpence that I wouldn't pour a bottle of ink
over the doctor's cat. _I did it_, but at that moment
old Muggles came home, and caught me by the ear as I
attempted to run away. My sensations at the moment I shall
never forget; _on that occasion I received my first
ear-ring_.[007] The only remark Bill made to me, as he
paid me the money afterwards was, 'I say, didn't you just
howl jolly!'" The engraving is an excellent copy of the
picture.

[Illustration: Sir D. Wilkie Painter The First Earring.
W. Greatbach Engraver. _from the picture in the Vernon Gallery_]

The best thing in the _Rectory Umbrella_ was a parody on Lord
Macaulay's style in the "Lays of Ancient Rome"; Charles had a special
aptitude for parody, as is evidenced by several of the best-known
verses in his later books.

LAYS OF SORROW.

No. 2.

Fair stands the ancient[008] Rectory,
The Rectory of Croft,
The sun shines bright upon it,
The breezes whisper soft.
From all the house and garden
Its inhabitants come forth,
And muster in the road without,
And pace in twos and threes about,
The children of the North.

Some are waiting in the garden,
Some are waiting at the door,
And some are following behind,
And some have gone before.
But wherefore all this mustering?
Wherefore this vast array?
A gallant feat of horsemanship
Will be performed to-day.

To eastward and to westward,
The crowd divides amain,
Two youths are leading on the steed,
Both tugging at the rein;
And sorely do they labour,
For the steed[009] is very strong,
And backward moves its stubborn feet,
And backward ever doth retreat,
And drags its guides along.

And now the knight hath mounted,
Before the admiring band,
Hath got the stirrups on his feet.
The bridle in his hand.
Yet, oh! beware, sir horseman!
And tempt thy fate no more,
For such a steed as thou hast got,
Was never rid before!

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