Complete Works of Lewis Carroll (250 page)

You have made everything turn out just as I should have chosen [writes a friend to whom he had sent a copy], and made right all that disappointed me in the first part.
I have not only to thank you for writing an interesting book, but for writing a helpful one too.
I am sure that "Sylvie and Bruno" has given me many thoughts that will help me all life through.
One cannot know "Sylvie" without being the better for it.
You may say that "Mister Sir" is not consciously meant to be yourself, but I cannot help feeling that he is.
As "Mister Sir" talks, I hear your voice in every word.
I think, perhaps, that is why I like the book so much.

I have received an interesting letter from Mr.
Furniss, bearing upon the subject of "Sylvie and Bruno," and Lewis Carroll's methods of work.
The letter runs as follows:—

I have illustrated stories of most of our leading authors, and I can safely say that Lewis Carroll was the only one who cared to understand the illustrations to his own book.
He was the W.
S.
Gilbert for children, and, like Gilbert producing one of his operas, Lewis Carroll took infinite pains to study every detail in producing his extraordinary and delightful books.
Mr.
Gilbert, as every one knows, has a model of the stage; he puts up the scenery, draws every figure, moves them about just as he wishes the real actors to move about.
Lewis Carroll was precisely the same.
This, of course, led to a great deal of work and trouble, and made the illustrating of his books more a matter of artistic interest than of professional profit.
I was
seven years
illustrating his last work, and during that time I had the pleasure of many an interesting meeting with the fascinating author, and I was quite repaid for the trouble I took, not only by his generous appreciation of my efforts, but by the liberal remuneration he gave for the work, and also by the charm of having intercourse with the interesting, if somewhat erratic genius.

A book very different in character from "Sylvie and Bruno," but under the same well-known pseudonym, appeared about the same time.
I refer to "Pillow Problems," the second part of the series entitled "Curiosa Mathematica."

"Pillow Problems thought out during wakeful hours" is a collection of mathematical problems, which Mr.
Dodgson solved while lying awake at night.
A few there are to which the title is not strictly applicable, but all alike were worked out mentally before any diagram or word of the solution was committed to paper.

The author says that his usual practice was to write down the
answer
first of all, and afterwards the question and its solution.
His motive, he says, for publishing these problems was not from any desire to display his powers of mental calculation.
Those who knew him will readily believe this, though they will hardly be inclined to accept his own modest estimate of those powers.

Still the book was intended, not for the select few who can scale the mountain heights of advanced mathematics, but for the much larger class of ordinary mathematicians, and they at least will be able to appreciate the gifted author, and to wonder how he could follow so clearly in his head the mental diagrams and intricate calculations involved in some of these "Pillow Problems."

His chief motive in publishing the book was to show how, by a little determination, the mind "can be made to concentrate itself on some intellectual subject (not necessarily mathematics), and thus banish those petty troubles and vexations which most people experience, and which—unless the mind be otherwise occupied—
will
persist in invading the hours of night."
And this remedy, as he shows, serves a higher purpose still.
In a paragraph which deserves quoting at length, as it gives us a momentary glimpse of his refined and beautiful character, he says:—

Perhaps I may venture for a moment to use a more serious tone, and to point out that there are mental troubles, much worse than mere worry, for which an absorbing object of thought may serve as a remedy.
There are sceptical thoughts, which seem for the moment to uproot the firmest faith: there are blasphemous thoughts, which dart unbidden into the most reverent souls: there are unholy thoughts, which torture with their hateful presence the fancy that would fain be pure.
Against all these some real mental work is a most helpful ally.
That "unclean spirit" of the parable, who brought back with him seven others more wicked than himself, only did so because he found the chamber "swept and garnished," and its owner sitting with folded hands.
Had he found it all alive with the "busy hum" of active
work
, there would have been scant welcome for him and his seven!

It would have robbed the book of its true character if Lewis Carroll had attempted to improve on the work done in his head, and consequently we have the solutions exactly as he worked them out before setting them down on paper.
Of the Problems themselves there is not much to be said here; they are original, and some of them (e.g., No.
52) expressed in a style peculiarly the author's own.
The subjects included in their range are Arithmetic, Algebra, Pure Geometry (Plane), Trigonometry, Algebraic Geometry, and Differential Calculus; and there is one Problem to which Mr.
Dodgson says he "can proudly point," in "Transcendental Probabilities," which is here given: "A bag contains two counters, as to which nothing is known except that each is either black or white.
Ascertain their colour without taking them out of the bag."
The answer is, "One is black and the other white."
For the solution the reader is referred to the book itself, a study of which will well repay him, apart from the chance he may have of discovering some mistake, and the consequent joy thereat!

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 £100 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.