Part 3 (1/2)

The spire of St. Aldates (p.r.o.nounced St. Olds); Sir Christopher Wren's domed tower over the entrance to Christ Church; the spires of the Cathedral of St. Mary; the tower of All Saints; the twin towers of All Souls; the dome of Radcliffe Library; the ma.s.sive tower of Merton, and the beautiful pinnacles of Magdalen, all pa.s.sed before him, ”rising o'er the level plain” as the verse puts it, backed by dense foliage, and sharply outlined against the blue horizon.

History springs up with every step one takes in Oxford. The University can trace its origin to the time of Alfred the Great. Beginning with only three colleges, each year this great center of learning became more important. Henry I built the Palace of Beaumont at Oxford, because he wished frequent opportunities to talk with men of learning. It was from the Castle of Oxford that the Empress Maud escaped at dead of night, in a white gown, over the snow and the frozen river, when Stephen usurped the throne. It was in the Palace of Beaumont that Richard the Lion-Hearted was born, and so on, through the centuries, great deeds and great events could be traced to the very gates of Oxford.

But most of all, the young student's affections centered around Christ Church, and indeed, for the first few years of his college life, he had little occasion to go outside of its broad boundaries unless for a row upon the river.

Christ Church really owes its foundation to the famous Cardinal Wolsey.

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson had its history by heart; how the wicked old prelate, wis.h.i.+ng to leave behind him a monument of lasting good to cover his many misdeeds, obtained the royal license to found the college as early as 1525; how, in 1529, as Shakespeare said, he bade ”a long farewell to all his greatness,” and his possessions, including Cardinal College as it was then called, fell into the ruthless hands of Henry VIII; and how, after many ups and downs, the present foundation of Christ Church was created under ”letters patent of Henry VIII dated November 4, 1546.”

Christ Church, with its imposing front of four hundred feet, is built around the Great Quadrangle, quite famous in the history of the college.

It includes in the embrace of its four sides the library and picture gallery, the Cathedral and the Chapter House, and the homes of the dean and his a.s.sociates. There was another smaller quadrangle called Peckwater Quadrangle, where young Dodgson had his rooms when he first entered college, but later when he became a tutor or a ”don” as the instructors were usually called, he moved into the Great Quadrangle. A beautiful meadow lies beyond the south gate, spreading out in a long and fertile stretch to the river's edge.

The ma.s.sive front gate has towers and turrets on either side, while just above it is the great ”Tom Tower,” the present home of ”Tom” the famous bell, measuring over seven feet in diameter and weighing over seven tons.

This bell was originally dedicated to St. Thomas of Canterbury, and bore a Latin inscription in praise of the saint. It was brought from the famous Abbey of Oseney, when that cloister was transferred to Oxford, and on the accession of Queen Mary, the ruling dean rechristened it Mary, out of compliment to her; but this was not a lasting change; ”Tom” was indeed the favored name. After ”Bonnie Prince Charlie” came into his own, and Christopher Wren's tower was completed, the great bell was moved to the new resting place, where it rang first on the anniversary of the Restoration, May 29, 1684, and since then has rung each morning and evening, at the opening and closing of the college gates.

”Tom Tower,” as it is called, overlooks that portion of the Great Quadrangle popularly known as ”Tom Quad,” and it was in this corner of the Great Quadrangle that Lewis Carroll had his rooms. He speaks of it often in his many reminiscences, as he also spoke of the new bell tower over the hall staircase in the southeast corner. This new tower was built to hold the twelve bells which form the famous Christ Church peal, some twenty years after his entrance as an undergraduate. This, and the new entrance to the cathedral from ”Tom Quad,” were designed by the architect, George Bodley, and Lewis Carroll, who was then a very dignified and retiring ”don,” ridiculed his work in a clever little booklet called ”The Vision of the Three T's.”

In it he calls the new tower the ”Tea-chest,” the pa.s.sage to the cathedral the ”Trench,” the entrance itself the ”Tunnel” (here we have the three T's). The architect, whose initials are G. B., he thinly disguises as ”Jeeby,” and his disapproval is expressed through ”Our Willie,” meaning William E. Gladstone, who gives vent to his rage in this fas.h.i.+on:

”For as I'm true knight, a fouler sight, I'd never live to see.

Before I'd be the ruffian dark, Who planned this ghastly show, I'd serve as secretary's clerk [p.r.o.nounced _clark_]

To Ayrton or to Lowe.

Before I'd own the loathly thing, That Christ Church Quad reveals, I'd serve as s...o...b..ack's underling To Odger and to Beales.”

But no thought of ridicule entered the earnest young scholar's mind during those early days at Oxford. Everything he saw in his surroundings was most impressive. There was much about the college routine to remind him of the old Rugby days. Indeed, it was not so very long before his time that the birch-rod was laid aside in Oxford; the rules were still very strict, and the student was forced to work hard to gain any standing whatever.

Young Dodgson went into his studies, as he did into everything else, with his whole soul. He devoted a great deal of his time to mathematics, and quite as much to divinity, but just as he had settled down for months of serious work, the news of his mother's sudden death sent him hurrying back to Croft Rectory to join the sorrowing household. It was a terrible blow to them all; with this young family growing up around her, she could ill be spared, and the loss of her filled those first Oxford days with dark shadows for the boy--he was only a boy still for all his nineteen years--and we can imagine how deeply he mourned for his mother.

What we know of her is very faint and shadowy. That her influence was keenly felt for many years, we can only glean from the love and reverence with which the memory of her was guarded; for this English home hid its grief in the depths of its heart, and only the privileged few might enter and console.

This was the first and only break in the family for many years. Charles went back to Oxford immediately after the funeral, and took up his studies again with redoubled zeal.

Thomas Gaisford was dean of Christ Church during the four years that Charles Dodgson was an undergraduate. He was a most able man, well known as scholar, writer, and thinker, but he died, much lamented, in 1855, just as the young student was thinking seriously of a life devoted to his college. George Henry Liddell came into residence as dean of Christ Church, an office which he held for nearly forty years, and as Dean Liddell stood for a great deal in the life of Charles Dodgson, we shall hear much of him from time to time, dating more especially from the comrades.h.i.+p of his three little daughters, who were the first ”really truly” friends of Lewis Carroll.

But we are jumping over too many years at once, and must go back a few steps. His hard study during the first year won him a Boulter scholars.h.i.+p; the next year he took First Cla.s.s honors in mathematics, and a second in cla.s.sical studies, and on Christmas Eve, 1852, he was made a Student of Christ Church College.

To become a Student of Christ Church was not only a great honor, conferred only on one altogether worthy of it, but it was a very serious step in life for a young man. A Student remained unmarried and always took Holy Orders; he was of course compelled to be very regular at chapel service, and to be devoted, heart and soul, to the interests of Christ Church, all of which this special young Student had no difficulty in following to the letter.

From that time forth he ordered his life as he planned his mathematics, clearly and simply, and once his career was settled, Charles Lutwidge Dodgson dropped from his young shoulders--he was only twenty--the mantle of over-seriousness, and looked about for young companions.h.i.+p. He found what he needed in the households of the masters and the tutors, whose homes looked out upon the Great Quadrangle. Here on sunny days the nurses brought the children for an airing; chubby little boys in long trousers and ”roundabouts,” dainty little girls, with corkscrew ringlets and long pantalets and muslin ”frocks” and poke bonnets, in the depths of which were hidden the rosebud faces. These were the favorites of the young Student, whose slim figure in cap and gown was often the center of an animated group of tiny girls; one on his lap, one perhaps on his shoulder, several at his knee, while he told them stories of the animals he knew, and drew funny little pictures on stray bits of paper. The ”roundabouts”

went to the wall: they were only boys!

His coming was always hailed with delight. Sometimes he would take them for a stroll, always full of wonder and interest to the children, for alone, with these chosen friends of his, his natural shyness left him, the sensitive mouth took smiling curves, the deep blue eyes were full of laughter, and he spun story after story for them in his quaint way, filling their little heads with odd fancies which would never have been there but for him. The ”bunnies” held animated conversations with these small maids; every chirp and twitter of the birds grew to mean something to them. He took them across the meadow, and showed them the turtles swimming on the river bank; sometimes even--oh, treat of treats!--he took them in his boat, and pulling gently down the pretty rippling stream, told them stories of the s.h.i.+ning fish they could see darting here and there in its depths, and of wonderful creatures they could _not_ see, who would not show themselves while curious little girls were staring into the water.

These were hours of pure recreation for him. The small girls could not know what genuine pleasure they gave; the young undergraduates could never understand his lack of sympathy with their many sports. Athletics never appealed to him, even boating he enjoyed in his own mild way; a quiet pull up or down the river, a shady bank, an hour's rest under the trees, a companion perhaps, generally some small girl, whose round-eyed interest inspired some remarkable tale--this was what he liked best. On other days a tramp of miles gave just the exercise he needed.

His busy day began at a quarter past six, with breakfast at seven, and chapel at eight. Then came the day's lectures in Greek and Latin, mathematics, divinity, and the cla.s.sics.

Meals were served to the undergraduates in the Hall. The men were divided into ”messes” just as in military posts; each ”mess” consisted of about six men, who were served at a small table. There were many such tables scattered over the Hall, a vast and ancient room, completed at the time of Wolsey's fall, 1529, an interesting spot full of memorials of Henry VIII and Wolsey. The great west window with its two rows of s.h.i.+elds, some with a Cardinal's hat, others with the royal arms of Henry VIII, is most interesting, while the wainscoting, decorated with s.h.i.+elds also arranged in orderly fas.h.i.+on, is very attractive. The Hall is filled with portraits of celebrities, from Henry VIII, Wolsey and Elizabeth to the many students, and famous deans, who have added l.u.s.ter to Christ Church.

In Charles Dodgson's time, the meals were poorly served. The Hall was lighted at night with candles in bra.s.s candlesticks made to hold three lights each. The undergraduates were served on pewter plates, and the poor young fellows were in the hands of the cook and butler, and consequently were cheated up to their eyes. They did not complain in Charles Dodgson's time, but after he graduated and became a master himself he no doubt took part in what was known as the ”Bread and b.u.t.ter” campaign, when the undergraduates rose up in a body and settled the cook and butler for all time, appointing a steward who could overlook the doings of those below in the kitchen.