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Lewis Carroll |
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Derek Hudson
V: Later Verse
The success of the Alice books made little difference to the
life of their author. For the fame that came to him as Lewis
Carroll, and for any sort of 'lionizing', he showed a marked
distaste. His daily round was exceedingly methodical, not to say
pernickety. He gave some of his time to a painstaking matter-of-fact
diary. From 1861 onwards he kept a register of all his
correspondence, which at his death had reached about 100,000
items. He pursued his mathematical studies, the more important
of which concerned Euclid, with extreme conscientiousness. He
performed occasional minor duties in the Church as a deacon (emerging
as an earnestly effective preacher at the end of his Life).
The theatre continued to remain a passionate interest; he still
studied drawing with a stubborn though despairing determination;
and up to 1880 he pursued his hobby of photography with
remarkable distinction. He went abroad only once, on a trip to
Russia with Dr H. P. Liddon, and he found his physical
relaxation in long walks in the countryside around Oxford and
Guildford (where he made a home for his sisters in 1868) or on
holidays at south coast resorts, of which Eastbourne became his
favourite.
For mental relaxation, he enjoyed nothing more than the devising
of puzzles and games; and if crosswords had been known in his
time he would certainly have been an addict.
To picture him as an uncommunicative recluse would, however, be
misleading. He visited his artistic, literary and theatrical
friends in London, and was ready to make other friends besides—particularly
among the parents of young daughters. He had admitted that
children were 'three-fourths of my life', and like another
Victorian clergyman, the diarist Francis Kilvert, he became
increasingly pre-occupied with little girls. Half in play and
half in earnest, these friendships could grow rather intense,
but he con-ducted them always with a most scrupulous regard for
the proprieties and with a tender concern for the happiness of
his child-friends.
In College affairs Dodgson was one of those 'difficult'
characters who are not uncommonly found in such societies.
He took an uncompromising line in domestic politics, and several
of his humorous satires ridicule the reforms sponsored by Dean
Liddell and the Governing Body. For ten years he held the
onerous post of Curator of the Senior Common Room at Christ
Church, a sort of housekeeper to a men's club, in which capacity
he showed him self not only efficient but, it must be admitted,
on occasion testy and small- minded. There was no end to his
complaints against the College servants. He took little interest
in the activities of the undergraduates, and was himself the
target for a lively satire, Careless, written by one of their
number. Yet the sum total of Christ Church opinion would not
have been hostile to Dodgson; for it would have had to reckon
with genuine modesty and courtesy, wit and kindness, and with a
quite remarkable generosity to good causes that appealed to him.
An analysis of this complex character—at once self centred and
unselfish, richly endowed emotionally but at the same time
emotionally immature—suggests that he suffered much nervous
tension, which he had disciplined himself to control but which
showed itself in occasional outbursts of irritability. A paradox
himself, the dichotomy of his character is revealed in the
subtle changes of significance and abrupt reversal of statements
in Alice. He followed a lonely bachelor existence with stoic
courage. 'College life is by no means unmixed misery,' he wrote,
'though married life has no doubt many charms to which I am a
stranger.'
Essentially ambivalent, one feels that he instinctively avoided
problems of adult love and intimacy because he knew that in any
close relationship something compelled him to seek distance and
detachment. Several writers, notably Mr A. L. Taylor, have
argued that he was actually in love with Alice Liddell in an
adult sense; yet when his nephew and biographer S. D.
Collingwood hinted at 'the shadow of some disappointment' in his
life, it was to Ellen Terry that he referred, and it is
difficult to see his love for Alice as anything but
fundamentally Platonic and protective. After she had outgrown
her childhood Dodgson saw relatively little of her.
Nevertheless, it is to Alice Liddell's inspiration that we owe
the two Alice books, and among his child-friends she held a very
special place. Only once again, after Alice Liddell's influence
had passed, did Lewis Carroll write an admitted masterpiece.
This was The Hunting of the Snark, the longest and best
sustained nonsense poem in the English language. The last line
came into his mind while he was walking at Guildford in July
1874; the poem was not ready for publication until 1876.
The Hunting of the Snark describes the expedition of the Bellman
and his ill-assorted crew in search of that fabulous creature,
which proves on discovery to be a particularly dangerous variety,
the boojum. The details of the Snark were 'hammered out' by a
craftsman of light verse; but, like the best modern art, the
poem was both obscurely instinctive and sharply intellectual.
Once again, he found inspiration in a little girl, this time
Gertrude Chataway; once again, there was method in his madness;
the strange Odyssey was carefully organised and gains cumulative
effect from its telling, until the final verses reach a climax
that is not negligible poetry:
They hunted till darkness came on, but they found
Not a button, or feather, or mark,
By which they could tell that they stood on the ground
Where the Baker had met with the Snark.
In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away—
For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.
Lewis Carroll's verse was collected during his life-time in
Phantasmagoria (1869) and Rhymer and Reason? (1883), which
included The Hunting of the Snark, while the volume of Collected
Verse (1932) brings together nearly all the verse that he wrote
in widely differing contexts. This entertaining book displays
him as a master of parody, and places him in the English
tradition of light verse between Edward Lear and C. S.
Calverley. (John Galsworthy, in 1889, aged twenty-two, described
Lewis Carroll as his 'favourite poet' in the Confession Album of
one of his cousins —"The Life and Letters of John Galsworthy",
by H. V. Marrot, London 1935). Even his few serious
poems—melancholy and romantic in feeling—and his affectionate
occasional trifles, belong to this tradition; but, as with other
masters of light verse, they do not show him at his best. Living
in a world of lost summers, his wistful nostalgia could become
over-lush:
Ever drifting down the stream-
lingering in the golden gleam-
Life, what is but a dream?
Yet, in the context of the Alice books at least, verse and prose
are so perfectly dove-tailed that we do not want anything
altered; even the supplementary occasional pieces become
tolerable.
As an innovator of nonsense verse he remained effective to the
last. Amid the disappointment of Sylvie and Bruno he gave us the
original verse-epigram which has been called the 'Waterford':
He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk,
Descending from a bus:
He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus:
'If this should stay to dine', he said,
'There won't be much for us.'
VI: Sylvie And Bruno
For the general reader, the humorous verse scattered throughout
the two volumes of Sylvie And Bruno may be its chief attraction.
But from the student of Lewis Carroll, this elaborate failure,
which occupied him, on and off, for twenty years of his life,
demands a little more attention. Even the least successful
productions of genius have an interest above the ordinary; the
confused patchwork of Sylvie And Bruno conceals what was in some
ways a strikingly original experiment, though one beyond his
powers.
The nucleus of Sylvie And Bruno is to be found in a short tale,
'Bruno's Revenge', contributed by Carroll to Aunt Judy's
Magazine, edited by Mrs Gatty, in 1867. This fairytale forms the
greater part of Chapters XIV and XV of the book. He told more
chapters of it to the children at Hatfield on visits to Lord
Salisbury in 1873 and 1875. By the following year he was looking
out for an illustrator to succeed Tenniel. 'I should much like
to write one more children's book', he informed Macmillans,
'before all writing-power leaves me.'
Unfortunately that supremely lucid 'writing-power' of Dodgson's
did begin to disintegrate rather rapidly as he became
increasingly absorbed by college business and by his
miscellaneous scientific and artistic interests. Sylvie And
Bruno was compiled from a mass of material accumulated over many
years. Dodgson determined to break away from the pattern of his
previous dream-tales, but had no clear idea of how to do it.
Unlike the Alice books, Sylvie And Bruno never advanced
systematically. Failure could have been predicted.
The most serious fault, besides its shapelessness, was that in
Sylvie And Bruno Dodgson the didactic moralist overwhelmed
Dodgson the artist. When he allowed himself to follow the course
of his fairy-tale, or to pursue some entertaining by-way of
fantasy in prose or verse, he was still recognizably the Lewis
Carroll of former days; but the attempt to display his old
talent within the setting of a conventionally 'uplifting'
society novel proved fatal to the book as a whole. Harry
Furniss's illustrations faithfully reflected this dilemma. Worse
still, the boy Bruno spoke in a deplorable convention of
baby-talk that had been happily avoided in Alice. And the book
grew impossibly long. The publication of Sylvie And Bruno in
1889 was not the end. In 1893 came Sylvie and Bruno Concluded,
and each volume ran to four hundred pages. Moreover, they were
both prefaced by rambling apologetic addresses such as a
clergyman might make from the steps of the chancel, involving
good works and moral reflections of every kind.
It is possible, then, to pick out the interpolated songs and
poems, or to read the fantastic passages on the 'Outlandish
Watch' or the visit to Dogland, with pleasure; it requires an
unusually patient and sympathetic reader to follow the story
from beginning to end. yet the strangely incoherent compilation
is somehow symbolical of the hidden conflicts of Dodgson and of
the Victorian era in which he lived. The element of experiment
in the construction of the book has its place in literary
history. Dodgson introduced his 'fairies' into human situations
and postulated that man may go through three stages in relation
to the supernatural—the ordinary state of 'no consciousness';
the mixed or 'eerie' state, in which he is conscious both of his
own surroundings and of supernatural presences; and a form of
trance or dream-state. His attempt to sustain a narrative on
these distinct planes is, not surprisingly, difficult to follow.
Maeterlinck and Barrio later handled similar material more
successfully in the theatre with musical assistance; and perhaps
the work of Dorothy Richardson, James Joyce and Virginia Woolf
sometimes suggests the same line of experiment, explored with
different methods.
Sylvie And Bruno was Carroll's last attempt at imaginative
literature on a large scale. He was greatly occupied with games
and puzzles towards the close of his life. His last book, Part I
of Symbolic Logic, appeared in 1896; it is pleasant to record
that it went through four editions within a year. The
exploitation of the Alice books in their various guises,
translations and adaptations, still kept him busy, and he made a
number of small verbal changes for a new edition in 1897. ( Mr
Stanley Godman is apparently the first to have noted these "The
Times, 27July 1957). During his later years he suffered from
intermittent ill-health; he was feeling the effect of cumulative
strain, brought on by the rigorous discipline of his life and by
continual overwork. At Christmas, 1897, he was busily engaged on
Part II of Symbolic Logic when he caught a feverish chill which
turned to bronchitis. He died at 'The Chestnuts', his sisters'
detached red-brick house near the Castle at Guildford, on 14
January 1898.
VII: Conclusion
When Lewis Carroll was very small, he approached his father with
a book of logarithms and asked for an explanation. Although he
was told he was too young, he persisted, 'But, please explain!'
It is not enough nowadays that the Alice books should be
enjoyed; they too must be 'explained' —and to some people the
psycho-analytical methods of Freud have provided a tempting line
of investigation. I believe that it is misguided to apply this
method to a work of imaginative literature, and that, so far
from heightening appreciation, the clinical dissection of an
author's mind may tend to belittle his creation and impair
enjoyment.
Of course from the medical standpoint the study is legitimate.
'When a superior intellect and a phsycopathic temperament
coalesce in the same individual,' said William James, 'we have
the best possible condition for the kind of effective genius
that gets into the biographical dictionaries.' 'Genius', said
Lombroso, going a little further, 'is a symptom of hereditary
degeneration of the epileptoid variety.' Any work of genius,
then, is fruitful ground for psycho-analysis; the more
spontaneous the fantasy, as in Coleridge's 'Kubla Khan' or in
the early chapters of Alice in Wonderland, the greater the
opportunity for discovering sexual symbolism.
There is a psycho-analytical theory that the pool of tears in
Alice represents the amniotic quid, and that all this part of
the book is an allegory of the birth trauma (though in plain
fact the pool of tears was a reference to an earlier outing with
the three Liddells, on a wet day a fortnight before the famous
expedition to Godstow). Viewed in this light, the gayest of
books can become a nightmare of neurosis— much in the same way
that a student of Eric Partridge's Dictionary of Slang finds,
after reading a few pages, that his ordinary talk is inevitably
full of obscenity. We might remember what Lewis Carroll wrote to
Mary MacDonald:
'Don't be in such a hurry to believe next time—I'll tell you
why—If you set to work to believe everything, you will tire out
the muscles of your mind, and then you'll be so weak you won't
be able to believe the simplest true things'.
Attempts have also been made to identify characters in the Alice
books with actual individuals. Many contemporary references that
might have amused the Liddells are undoubtedly preserved in the
books, but it is dangerous to read too many allusions and hidden
meanings into them, for Carroll did not construct his characters
from observation, except in the most general sense; as he
himself said, his ideas were wont to 'come of themselves'.
Similarly, with alleged references to religious controversy or
to contemporary politics, Carroll's care to change the
passion-flower to a tiger-lily in Through the Looking-Glass,
because of 'the sacred origin of the name', is proof enough of
his view that adult susceptibilities were not the concern of a
fairy-story.
Mr A. L. Taylor has been more successful in suggesting the
mathematical and logical influences behind Carroll's work; but
in general I believe that Carroll has been the victim of
misplaced ingenuity from critics who have taken not only
themselves but the Alice books far too seriously.
Tweedledee's 'Contrariwise' may be the best answer:
'If it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but
as it isn't, it ain't'.
Charles Dodgson never really outgrew his childhood and remained,
in the modem jargon, 'fixated' to his early years— that I
believe to be true. It was at once his weakness and his
strength, for it explains the unique quality of his writing for
children. He was remarkably mature and sensitive at twelve and
thirteen; his father encouraged nonsense; Useful and Instructive
Poetry contains many curious anticipations of his later work.
The painful years at Rugby and the death of his beloved mother
drove all this underground into his subconscious, to be
recaptured in Alice when he was past thirty and set in donnish
ways.
He was always happiest, as a stammerer, in the company of
children. He wrote to please them, and they drew out of him,
first his nonsense letters (the psycho-analysts have yet to
tackle these), then his immortal books. His precise care of
words as a logician, and his leaning towards a mathematician's
philosophy, gave his writing the inimitable quality that has
tantalized and delighted grown-ups. Nevertheless, but for his
love of children, the Alice books would never have been written.
He did not send Alice down the rabbit-hole on a summer's
afternoon for the benefit of a future generation of Freudians
but for the present pleasure of three small Victorians.
When he was asked what 'he meant' by The Hunting of the Snark,
Lewis Carroll replied: 'I'm very much afraid I didn't mean
anything but nonsense ! Still, you know, words mean more than we
mean to express when we use them; so a whole book ought to mean
a great deal more than the writer means. So, whatever good
meanings are in the book, I'm glad to accept as the meaning of
the book (*' These words, and especially the phrase 'good
meanings', deserve to be pondered.)
Never perhaps has a writer turned his repressions to such
healthy uses as Lewis Carroll. He triumphed over his dilemma,
and though his own life was not entirely happy, he has given
pleasure to millions. He belongs neither to the 'highbrow' nor
to the psycho-analyst; he belongs to the children and all who
have the gift of laughter, anywhere in the world.
Bibliography:
A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE WRITINGS OF LEWIS CARROLL [CHARLES
LUTWIDGE DODGSON, M.A.], by S. H. Williams (1924) —the pioneer
bibliography, still of value.
A LIST OF THE WRITINGS OF LEWIS CARROLL . . . Collected by M. L.
Parrish. Privately printed, Philadelphia (1928) —catalogue of
the collection of M. L. Parrish of Philadelphia, now in the
Princeton University Library.
A HANDBOOK OF THE LITERATURE OF THE REV. C. L. DODGSON [LEWIS
CARROLL], by S. H. Williarns and F. Madan (I93I) —for thirty
years the standard bibliography. A supplement was issued in
1935.
THE LEWIS CARROLL HANDBOOK. A new version of the preceding:
revised, augmented, and brought up to date by R. L. Green
(1902).
THE HARCOURT AMORY COLLECTION OF LEWIS CARROLL IN THE HARVARD
COLLEGE LIBRARY, compiled by F. V. Livingston. Privately
printed, Cambridge, Mass. (1932).
'Lewis Carroll's Periodical Publications', by R. L. Green. Notes
and Queries, March 1954.
Collected Editions::
THE COLLECTED VERSE OF LEWIS CARROLL (1932) —with illustrations
by Sir J. Tenniel, A. B. Frost, H. Holiday, H. Furniss, and the
author.
THE COMPLETE WORKS OF LEWIS CARROLL, with an Introduction by A
Woollcott and the illustrations by John Tenniel. New York (1937)
—incomplete but useful.
Selections:
THE LEWIS CARROLL PICTURE BOOK, ed. S. D. Collingwood (1899) —an
entertaining miscellany. The sub-title reads: 'A Selection from
the Unpublished Writings and Drawings of Lewis Carroll, together
with Reprints from Scarce and Unacknowledged Work'. The
selection includes some of his photographs and letters, and
reminiscences of him. Re-issued as a paperback under the title
Diversions and Digressions of Lewis Carroll, 1961.
FURTHER NONSENSE VERSE AND PROSE, by Lewis Carroll, ed. L. Reed,
illustrated by H. M. Bateman (1926) —a sequel (hence the
misleading title) to Nonsense Verse: An Anthology, compiled by
the same editor.
ALICE IN WONDERLAND, THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS, ETC., with
introduction by E. Rhys (1929) —useful selection of the works,
including Phantasmagoria, A Tangled Tale, The Hunting of the
Snark, and Carroll's own illustrations to Alice.
FOR THE TRAIN Lewis Carrolls contributions to The Train, 1856-7.
Preface by H. J. Schonfield (1932) —contains excerpts from his
other writings on the subject of trains.
THE RUSSIAN JOURNAL AND OTHER SELECTIONS, ed. J. F. McDermott.
New York (1935).
THE HUMOROUS VERSES OF LEWIS CARROLL, with Illustrations by John
Tenniel, ed. J. E. Morpurgo (1950).
Separate Works—juvenilia::
THE RECTORY UMBRELLA AND MISCHMASCH (1932) —the last two of
Lewis Carroll's manuscript magazines, published in full with a
foreword by F. Milner.
USEFUL AND INSTRUCTIVE POETRY [1845](1954) —the earliest of the
manuscript magazines, with an introduction by D. Hudson.
Separate Works (under the pseudonym 'Lewis Carroll')::
ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND, with forty-two illustrations
by John Tenniel (1865) —the author stopped the publication of
the first edition because he was dissatisfied with its
production, and in consequence barely more than a dozen copies
have survived. There was a second edition in 1860. Apart from
the Bible, few books have been more translated (in whole or in
part) than Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Only French,
Italian, German and Danish complete translations appeared in the
author's lifetime.
PHANTASMAGORIA AND OTHER POEMS (1869).
THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS AND WHAT ALICE FOUND THERE, with fifty
illustrations by John Tenniel (1872) —translated into German,
1923, and French, 1949.
SOME POPULAR FALLACIES ABOUT VIVISECTION. Oxford (1875).
THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK, with nine illustrations by H. Holiday
(1876) —translated into French by Louis Aragon, 1929.
AN EASTER GREETING TO EVERY CHILD WHO LOVES ALICE . Oxford
(1876).
DOUBLETS: A WORD-PUZZLE (1879).
RHYME? AND REASON? With sixty-five illustrations by A. B. Frost
and nine by H. Holiday (1883).
A TANGLED TALE, with six illustrations by A. B. Frost (1885).
ALICE'S ADVENTURES UNDER GROUND (1886) —a facsimile of the
original MS book (now in the British Museum) afterwards
developed into Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, with
thirty-seven illustrations by the author. Reissued, 1965.
THE GAME OF LOGIC (1886).
THE NURSERY ALICE (1889) —contains twenty coloured enlargements
from Tenniel's illustrations with the ten 'adapted to nursery
readers'. A delightful effort, too little known.
SYLVIE AND BRUNO, with forty-six illustrations by H. Furniss
(1889).
CIRCULAR BILLIARDS FOR TWO PLAYERS (1890).
EIGHT OR NINE WISE WORDS ABOUT LETTER-WRITING(1890) —issued with
the 'Wonderful Stamp Case' in a pink envelope containing both.
SYLVIE AND BRUNO CONCLUDED, with forty—six illustrations by H.
Furniss (1893).
SYZYGLES AND LANRICK: A WORD-PUZZLE AND A GAME FOR TWO PLAYERS
(1893).
SYMBOLIC LOGIC: PART 1. ELEMENTARY (1896).
THREE SUNSETS AND OTHER POEMS, with twelve drawings by E. G.
Thomson (1898).
FEEDING THE MIND (1907) —a lecture delivered in October, 1884,
with a prefatory note by W. H. Draper.
Separate Works(by C. L. Dodgson)::
A SYLLABUS OF PLAIN ALGEBRAICAL GEOMETRY. Oxford (1860).
THE FORMULAE OF PLANE TRIGONOMETRY. Oxford (1861).
A GUIDE TO THE MATHEMATICAL STUDENT: PART 1, PURE MATHEMATICS.
Oxford (1864).
CONDENSATION OF DETERMINANTS (1866).
AN ELEMENTARY TREATISE ON DETERMINANTS (1867).
THE FIFTH BOOK OF EUCLID. Oxford and London (1868).
EUCLID, BOOK V. Oxford (1874).
EUCLID AND HIS MODERN RIVALS (1879).
EUCLID, BOOKS I AND 11, edited by Charles L. Dodgson, M.A.
(1882).
LAWN TENNIS TOURNAMENTS (1883).
THE PRINCIPLES OF Parliamentary REPRESENTATION (1884).
SUPPLEMENT TO EUCLID AND HIS MODERN RIVALS (1885).
SUGGESTIONS AS TO THE ELECTION OF PROCTORS. Oxford (1886).
CURIOSA MATHEMATICA PART 1. A NEW THEORY OF PARALLELS (1888).
CURIOSA MATHEMATICA PART 11. PILLOW-PROBLEMS (1893).
Separate Works (anonymous)::
RULES FOR COURT CIRCULAR: (A New Game of Cards for Two or More
Players.) Place of publication unknown (1860).
AN INDEX TO IN MEMORIAM (1862) —suggested and edited by Dodgson
but chiefly compiled by one or more of his sisters.
CROQUET CASTLES. Place of publication unknown. (1863) —an
elaborate variation of the game of croquet for five players.
THE NEW METHOD OF EVALUATION AS APPLIED TO PI Oxford (1865).
THE DYNAMICS OF A PARTICLE. Oxford (1865).
CASTLE-CROQUET. OXFORD(1866) —a revision of Croquet Castles for
four players.
THE ELECTIONS TO THE HEBDOMADAL COUNCIL. Oxford (1866).
THE DESERTED PARKS. Oxford (1867) —a parody of Goldsmith's
Deserted village, attacking a proposal that the University Parks
at Oxford should be used in part for College cricket grounds.
The proposal was rejected.
THE OFFER OF THE CLARENDON TRUSTEES. Oxford (1868) —an amusing
jeu d'esprit on the subject of providing opportunities at the
New Museum for mathematical calculations.
THE NEW BELFRY OF CHRIST CHURCH. Oxford (1872).
THE VISION OF THE THREE T'S. Oxford (1873) —these two items are
both skits on proposals for architectural alterations at Christ
Church.
THE BLANK CHEQUE. Oxford (1874) —a clever fable, with the
University as Mrs Nivers, based on a proposal to authorize the
building of the new Examination Schools before any plan or
estimate had been prepared.
NOTES BY AN OXFORD CHIEL. Oxford (1874) —reprints of six of
Dodgson's anonymous Oxford pieces.
WORD-LINKS—a word-game. Oxford (1878).
MlSCHMASCH—a word-game. Oxford (1882).
TWELVE MONTHS IN A CURATORSHIP: BY ONE WEIO HAS TRIED IT. Oxford
(1884).
SUPPLEMENT TO TWELVE MONTHS IN A CURATORSHIP . Oxford (1884).
THREE YEARS IN A CURATORSHIP: BY ONE WHOM IT HAS TRIED. Oxford
(1886).
A POSTAL PROBLEM. Place of publication unknown (189I).
CURIOSISSIMA CURATORIA. Oxford (1892).
Diaries and Letters::
TOUR IN 1867 BY C. L. DODGSON. Privately printed. Philadelphia
(1928). —the diary of a trip to Russia in 1867 with Dr H. P.
Liddon. From the MS in the Parrish Collection.
A SELECTION FROM THE LETTERS OF LEWIS CARROLL TO HIS
CHILD-FRIENDS ed. E. M. Hatch (1933).
THE DIARIES OF LEWIS CARROLL, ed. R. L. Green. 2 vols. (1953).
Note. The originals of Dodgson's numerous letters to his
publishers, Macmillans, were sold in London in 1957 and are now
in the U.S.A.
Biographical and Critical Studies::
THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF LEWIS CARROLL (REV. C. L. DODGSON), by
S. D. Collingwood (1898).
THE STORY OF LEWIS CARROLL, by I. Bowman (1899).
CONFESSIONS OF A CARICATURIST, by H. Furniss. 2 vols. (19O1).
THE POETRY OF NONSENSE, by E. Carnmaerts (1925).
'Lewis Carroll', by W. de la Mare (1932) —this essay originally
appeared in The Eighteen-Eighties, ed. W. de la Mare, 1930.
'Alice's Recollections of Cartollian Days, by C. Hargreaves, The
Cornhill Magazine, July 1932.
THE LIFE OF LEWIS CARROLL, by L. Reed (1932).
THE LEWIS CARROLL CENTENARY IN LONDON 1932, ed. F. Madan (1932).
'Alice in Wonderland Psycho-Analysed' by A. M. E. Goldschmidt,
New Oxford Outlook, May 1933.
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