The Life and Letters of Lewis Carroll Part 3

They gave him bread and b.u.t.ter,[016]

That was of public right, As much as four strong rabbits, Could munch from morn to night, For he'd done a deed of daring, And faced that savage steed, And therefore cups of coffee sweet, And everything that was a treat, Were but his right and meed.

And often in the evenings, When the fire is blazing bright, When books bestrew the table And moths obscure the light, When crying children go to bed, A struggling, kicking load; We'll talk of Ulfrid Longbow's deed, How, in his brother's utmost need, Back to his aid he flew with speed, And how he faced the fiery steed, And kept the New Croft Road.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Exterior of Christ Church]

CHAPTER II

(1850-1860.)

Matriculation at Christ Church--Death of Mrs. Dodgson--The Great Exhibition--University and College Honours--A wonderful year--A theatrical treat--_Misch-Masch--The Train--College Rhymes_--His _nom de plume_--"Dotheboys Hall"--Alfred Tennyson--Ordination--Sermons--A visit to Farringford--"Where does the day begin?"--The Queen visits Oxford.

We have traced in the boyhood of Lewis Carroll the beginnings of those characteristic traits which afterwards, more fully developed, gave him so distinguished a position among his contemporaries. We now come to a period of his life which is in some respects necessarily less interesting. We all have to pa.s.s through that painful era of self-consciousness which prefaces manhood, that time when we feel so deeply, and are so utterly unable to express to others, or even to define clearly to ourselves, what it is we do feel. The natural freedom of childhood is dead within us; the conventional freedom of riper years is struggling to birth, and its efforts are sometimes ludicrous to an unsympathetic observer. In Lewis Carroll's mental att.i.tude during this critical period there was always a calm dignity which saved him from these absurdities, an undercurrent of consciousness that what seemed so great to him was really very little.

On May 23, 1850, he matriculated at Christ Church, the venerable college which had numbered his father's among other ill.u.s.trious names.

A letter from Dr. Jelf, one of the canons of Christ Church, to Archdeacon Dodgson, written when the former heard that his old friend's son was coming up to "the House," contains the following words: "I am sure I express the common feeling of all who remember you at Christ Church when I say that we shall rejoice to see a son of yours worthy to tread in your footsteps."

Lewis Carroll came into residence on January 24, 1851. From that day to the hour of his death--a period of forty-seven years--he belonged to "the House," never leaving it for any length of time, becoming almost a part of it. I, for one, can hardly imagine it without him.

Though technically "in residence," he had not rooms of his own in College during his first term. The "House" was very full; and had it not been for one of the tutors, the Rev. J. Lew, kindly lending him one of his own rooms, he would have had to take lodgings in the town.

The first set of rooms he occupied was in Peckwater Quadrangle, which is annually the scene of a great bonfire on Guy Fawkes' Day, and, generally speaking, is not the best place for a reading man to live in.

In those days the undergraduates dining in hall were divided into "messes." Each mess consisted of about half a dozen men, who had a table to themselves. Dinner was served at five, and very indifferently served, too; the dishes and plates were of pewter, and the joint was pa.s.sed round, each man cutting off what he wanted for himself. In Mr.

Dodgson's mess were Philip Pusey, the late Rev. G. C. Woodhouse, and, among others, one who still lives in "Alice in Wonderland" as the "Hatter."

Only a few days after term began, Mrs. Dodgson died suddenly at Croft.

The shock was a terrible one to the whole family, and especially to her devoted husband. I have come across a delightful and most characteristic letter from Dr. Pusey--a letter full of the kindest and truest sympathy with the Archdeacon in his bereavement. The part of it which bears upon Mrs. Dodgson's death I give in full:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: Grave of Archdeacon and Mrs. Dodgson in Croft Churchyard.]

My dear Friend, I hear and see so little and so few persons, that I had not heard of your sorrow until your to-day's letter; and now I but guess what it was: only your language is that of the very deepest. I have often thought, since I had to think of this, how, in all adversity, what G.o.d takes away He may give us back with increase. One cannot think that any holy earthly love will cease, when we shall "be like the Angels of G.o.d in Heaven." Love here must shadow our love there, deeper because spiritual, without any alloy from our sinful nature, and in the fulness of the love of G.o.d.

But as we grow here by G.o.d's grace will be our capacity for endless love. So, then, if by our very sufferings we are purified, and our hearts enlarged, we shall, in that endless bliss, love more those whom we loved here, than if we had never had that sorrow, never been parted....

Lewis Carroll was summoned home to attend the funeral--a sad interlude amidst the novel experiences of a first term at College. The Oxford of 1851 was in many ways quite unlike the Oxford of 1898. The position of the undergraduates was much more similar to that of schoolboys than is now the case; they were subject to the same penalties--corporal punishment, even, had only just gone out of vogue!--and were expected to work, and to work hard.

Early rising then was strictly enforced, as the following extract from one of his letters will show:--

I am not so anxious as usual to begin my personal history, as the first thing I have to record is a very sad incident, namely, my missing morning chapel; before, however, you condemn me, you must hear how accidental it was. For some days now I have been in the habit of, I will not say getting up, but of being called at a quarter past six, and generally managing to be down soon after seven. In the present instance I had been up the night before till about half-past twelve, and consequently when I was called I fell asleep again, and was thunderstruck to find on waking that it was ten minutes past eight. I have had no imposition, nor heard anything about it. It is rather vexatious to have happened so soon, as I had intended never to be late.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Lewis Carroll, aged 23.]

It was therefore obviously his custom to have his breakfast _before_ going to chapel. I wonder how many undergraduates of the present generation follow the same hardy rule! But then no "impositions" threaten the modern sluggard, even if he neglects chapel altogether.

During the Long Vacation he visited the Great Exhibition, and wrote his sister Elizabeth a long account of what he had seen:--

I think the first impression produced on you when you get inside is one of bewilderment. It looks like a sort of fairyland. As far as you can look in any direction, you see nothing but pillars hung about with shawls, carpets, &c., with long avenues of statues, fountains, canopies, etc., etc., etc. The first thing to be seen on entering is the Crystal Fountain, a most elegant one about thirty feet high at a rough guess, composed entirely of gla.s.s and pouring down jets of water from basin to basin; this is in the middle of the centre nave, and from it you can look down to either end, and up both transepts. The centre of the nave mostly consists of a long line of colossal statues, some most magnificent. The one considered the finest, I believe, is the Amazon and Tiger. She is sitting on horseback, and a tiger has fastened on the neck of the horse in front. You have to go to one side to see her face, and the other to see the horse's. The horse's face is really wonderful, expressing terror and pain so exactly, that you almost expect to hear it scream.... There are some very ingenious pieces of mechanism. A tree (in the French Compartment) with birds chirping and hopping from branch to branch exactly like life. The bird jumps across, turns round on the other branch, so as to face back again, settles its head and neck, and then in a few moments jumps back again. A bird standing at the foot of the tree trying to eat a beetle is rather a failure; it never succeeds in getting its head more than a quarter of an inch down, and that in uncomfortable little jerks, as if it was choking. I have to go to the Royal Academy, so must stop: as the subject is quite inexhaustible, there is no hope of ever coming to a regular finish.

On November 1st he won a Boulter scholars.h.i.+p, and at the end of the following year obtained First Cla.s.s Honours in Mathematics and a Second in Cla.s.sical Moderations. On Christmas Eve he was made a Student on Dr. Pusey's nomination, for at that time the Dean and Canons nominated to Students.h.i.+ps by turn. The only conditions on which these old Students.h.i.+ps were held were that the Student should remain unmarried, and should proceed to Holy Orders. No statute precisely defined what work was expected of them, that question being largely left to their own discretion.

The eight Students at the bottom of the list that is to say, the eight who had been nominated last--had to mark, by p.r.i.c.king on weekly papers called "the Bills," the attendance at morning and evening chapel. They were allowed to arrange this duty among themselves, and, if it was neglected, they were all punished. This long-defunct custom explains an entry in Lewis Carroll's Diary for October 15, 1853, "Found I had got the p.r.i.c.kbills two hundred lines apiece, by not p.r.i.c.king in in the morning," which, I must confess, mystified me exceedingly at first.

Another reference to College impositions occurs further on in his Diary, at a time when he was a Lecturer: "Spoke to the Dean about F--, who has brought an imposition which his tutor declares is not his own writing, after being expressly told to write it himself."

The following is an extract from his father's letter of congratulation, on his being nominated for the Students.h.i.+p:--

My dearest Charles,--The feelings of thankfulness and delight with which I have read your letter just received, I must leave to _your conception_; for they are, I a.s.sure you, beyond _my expression_; and your affectionate heart will derive no small addition of joy from thinking of the joy which you have occasioned to me, and to all the circle of your home. I say "_you_ have occasioned,"

because, grateful as I am to my old friend Dr. Pusey for what he has done, I cannot desire stronger evidence than his own words of the fact that you have _won_, and well won, this honour for _yourself_, and that it is bestowed as a matter of _justice_ to _you_, and not of _kindness_ to _me_. You will be interested in reading extracts from his two letters to me--the first written three years ago in answer to one from me, in which I distinctly told him that I neither asked nor expected that he should serve me in this matter, unless my son should fairly reach the standard of merit by which these appointments were regulated. In reply he says--

"I thank you for the way in which you put the application to me. I have now, for nearly twenty years, not given a Students.h.i.+p to any friend of my own, unless there was no very eligible person in the College. I have pa.s.sed by or declined the sons of those to whom I was personally indebted for kindness. I can only say that I shall have _very great_ pleasure, if circ.u.mstances permit me to nominate your son."

In his letter received this morning he says--

"I have great pleasure in telling you that I have been enabled to recommend your son for a Students.h.i.+p this Christmas. It must be so much more satisfactory to you that he should be nominated thus, in consequence of the recommendation of the College. One of the Censors brought me to-day five names; but in their minds it was plain that they thought your son on the whole the most eligible for the College. It has been very satisfactory to hear of your son's uniform steady and good conduct."

The last clause is a parallel to your own report, and I am glad that you should have had so soon an evidence so substantial of the truth of what I have so often inculcated, that it is the "steady, painstaking, likely-to-do-good" man, who in the long run wins the race against those who now and then give a brilliant flash and, as Shakespeare says, "straight are cold again."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Archdeacon Dodgson.]

In 1853 Archdeacon Dodgson was collated and installed as one of the Canons of Ripon Cathedral. This appointment necessitated a residence of three months in every year at Ripon, where Dr. Erskine was then Dean. A certain Miss Anderson, who used to stay at the Deanery, had very remarkable "clairvoyant" powers; she was able--it was averred--by merely holding in her hand a folded paper containing some words written by a person unknown to her, to describe his or her character.

In this way, at what precise date is uncertain, she dictated the following description of Lewis Carroll: "Very clever head; a great deal of number; a great deal of imitation; he would make a good actor; diffident; rather shy in general society; comes out in the home circle; rather obstinate; very clever; a great deal of concentration; very affectionate; a great deal of wit and humour; not much eventuality (or memory of events); fond of deep reading; imaginative, fond, of reading poetry; _may_ compose." Those who knew him well will agree that this was, at any rate, a remarkable coincidence.

Longley, afterwards Primate, was then Bishop of Ripon. His charming character endeared him to the Archdeacon and his family, as to every one else who saw much of him. He was one of the few men whose faces can truly be called _beautiful_; it was a veil through which a soul, all gentleness and truth, shone brightly.

In the early part of 1854 Mr. Dodgson was reading hard for "Greats."

For the last three weeks before the examination he worked thirteen hours a day, spending the whole night before the _viva voce_ over his books. But philosophy and history were not very congenial subjects to him, and when the list was published his name was only in the third cla.s.s.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Archbishop Longley.]

He spent the Long Vacation at Whitby, reading Mathematics with Professor Price. His work bore good fruit, for in October he obtained First Cla.s.s Honours in the Final Mathematical School. "I am getting quite tired of being congratulated on various subjects," he writes; "there seems to be no end of it. If I had shot the Dean I could hardly have had more said about it."

In another letter dated December 13th, he says:

Enclosed you will find a list which I expect you to rejoice over considerably; it will take me more than a day to believe it, I expect--I feel at present very like a child with a new toy, but I daresay I shall be tired of it soon, and wish to be Pope of Rome next.... I have just been to Mr.

Price to see how I did in the papers, and the result will I hope be gratifying to you. The following were the sums total for each in the First Cla.s.s, as nearly as I can remember:--

Dodgson ... ... ... 279 Bosanquet ... ... ... 261 Cookson ... ... ... 254 Fowler ... ... ... 225 Ranken ... ... ... 213