It was on July 4, 1862, that there occurred that epochal expedition up
the river to Godstow with the three small daughters of Dr. Liddell,
Dean of Christ Church, which was destined to have such important and
far-reaching results. The first inception of the resultant masterpiece
has been charmingly described in the beautiful verses which preface it:
All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide,
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied.
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.
Ah, cruel three! In such an hour
Beneath such dreamy weather
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?
Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict “to begin it”--
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
“There will be nonsense in it!”--
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not _more_ than once a minute.
Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new.
In friendly chat with bird or beast--
And half believe it true.
And even, as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by,
“The rest next time”--“It _is_ next time!”
The happy voices cry.
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out--
And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.
Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where childhood’s dreams are twined
In Memory’s mystic band,
Like pilgrim’s wither’d wreath of flowers
Pluck’d in a far-off land.
If the final verse is not proof enough that sweet Alice Liddell was
Lewis Carroll’s favourite of the three, and that for _her_ he fashioned
his immortal fantasy, the opening verses from the exquisite poem which
precedes the sequel to the story, “Alice through the Looking Glass,”
will dispel all doubt:
Child of the pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love gift of a fairy-tale.
I have not seen thy sunny face,
Nor heard thy silver laughter;
No thought of me shall find a place
In thy young life’s hereafter--
Enough that now thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.
A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing--
A simple chime that served to time
The rhythm of our rowing--
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say “forget.”
It is pleasant to reflect that Lewis Carroll was wrong in his
assumption that his little comrade would forget him. She remained his
lifelong friend, and many years after the trip to Godstow, when she had
become Mrs. Reginald Hargreaves, she wrote the following account of the
scene:
“I believe the beginning of ‘Alice’ was told me one summer afternoon
when the sun was so hot that we had landed in the meadows down the
river, deserting the boat to take refuge in the only bit of shade to be
found, which was under a new-made hay-rick. Here from all three came
the old petition of ‘Tell us a story,’ and so began the ever-delightful
tale. Sometimes to tease us--perhaps being really tired--Mr. Dodgson
would stop suddenly and say, ‘And that’s all till next time.’ ‘Ah, but
it is next time,’ would be the exclamation from all three; and after
some persuasion the story would start afresh. Another day, perhaps,
the story would begin in the boat, and Mr. Dodgson, in the middle of
telling a thrilling adventure, would pretend to go fast asleep, to our
great dismay....”
The original title of the story, which its creator took the trouble to
write out in manuscript and have specially bound for the living Alice,
was “Alice’s Adventures Underground”; later it became “Alice’s Hour
in Elfland.” It was not until June 18, 1864, that its author finally
decided upon “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” and it was a year
later before it was published. He had no thought of publication at
first, and it was his friend Mr. George Macdonald who persuaded him to
submit the story to Messrs. Macmillan, who immediately appreciated its
value.
Few books have met with such unequivocal praise from the critics
and such instantaneous favour from the public, and the writer of
these notes feels sure that in any public enquiry conducted into the
popularity of children’s books to-day, either in Great Britain or
America, “Alice in Wonderland” would come at easy first. His own little
daughter, Joan, ætat. nine, never tires of the wonderful adventures,
and thinks it “the very best story in the world,” and this opinion is
probably typical of nine children out of ten.
The story has been translated into French, German, Italian, and
Dutch--tasks which the peculiarly Anglo-Saxon character of its appeal
must have rendered very difficult.
Four years after the publication of his masterpiece there appeared its
author’s collection of poems grave and gay, known under the general
title of “Phantasmagoria,” followed two years later by “Alice through
the Looking Glass.”
Soon after this he commenced to work out the story of “Sylvie and
Bruno,” and on the last night of 1872 related a great deal of it to
several children, including Princess Alice, who were members of a party
at Hatfield, where Mr. Dodgson was the guest of Lord Salisbury.
In 1871 appeared his “Notes by an Oxford Chiel,” a collection of
whimsical papers dealing with Oxford controversies; and in March, 1879,
“The Hunting of the Snark” was published. According to its creator,
the first idea for the whole poem was suggested by its last line,
“For the Snark was a Boojum, you see,” which came into his mind,
apparently without reason, while he was enjoying a country walk. Many
of his admirers have contended that “The Hunting of the Snark” is an
allegory, but Lewis Carroll himself always declared it had no meaning
at all, which, however, is very different from saying it had no point,
for the meticulous skill with which each effect is achieved shows the
master-hand throughout.
All this time Mr. Dodgson, in addition to his professional duties, was
writing mathematical and technical and other serious works, for which
he was responsible for more than a dozen books alone, including “Euclid
and his Modern Rivals” (1882), which ran into eight editions.