Lewis Carroll in Wonderland and at Home Part 18

Logic was a study of which he was very fond. After he gave up in 1881 the lectureship of mathematics which he had held for twenty-five years he determined to make literature a profession; to devote part of his time to more serious study, and a fair portion to the equally fascinating work for children.

"In his estimation," says Miss Hatch, "logic was a most important study for every one; no pains were spared to make it clear and interesting to those who would consent to learn of him, either in a cla.s.s that he begged to be allowed to hold in a school or college, or to a single individual girl who showed the smallest inclination to profit by his instructions."

He took the greatest delight in his subject and wisely argued that all girls should learn, not only to reason, but to reason properly--that is, logically. With this end in view he wrote for their use a little book which he called "The Game of Logic," and the girls, whose footsteps he had guided in childish days through realms of nonsense, were willing in many instances to journey with him into the byways of learning, feeling sure he would not lead them into depths where they could not follow. The little volume contains four chapters, and the whimsical headings show us at once that Lewis Carroll was the author, and not Charles Lutwidge Dodgson.

Chapter I.......New Lamps for Old.

Chapter II......Cross Questions.

Chapter III.....Crooked Answers.

Chapter IV......Hit or Miss.

To be sure this is not a "play" book, and even as a "game" it is one which requires a great deal of systematic thinking and reasoning. The girl who has reached thinking and reasoning years and does not care to do either, had better not even peep into the book; but if she is built on st.u.r.dier lines and wishes to peep, she must do more--she must read it step by step and study the carefully drawn diagrams, if she would follow intelligently the clear, precise arguments. The book is dedicated--

TO MY CHILD-FRIEND.

I charm in vain: for never again, All keenly as my glance I bend, Will memory, G.o.ddess coy, Embody for my joy Departed days, nor let me gaze On thee, my Fairy Friend!

Yet could thy face, in mystic grace, A moment smile on me, 'twould send Far-darting rays of light From Heaven athwart the night, By which to read in very deed Thy spirit, sweetest Friend!

So may the stream of Life's long dream Flow gently onward to its end, With many a floweret gay, Adown its billowy way: May no sigh vex nor care perplex My loving little Friend!

His preface is most enticing. He says: "This Game requires nine Counters--four of one color and five of another; say four red and five gray. Besides the nine Counters, it also requires one Player _at least_. I am not aware of any game that can be played with _less_ than this number; while there are several that require more; take Cricket, for instance, which requires twenty-two. How much easier it is, when you want to play a game, to find _one_ Player than twenty-two! At the same time, though one Player is enough, a good deal more amus.e.m.e.nt may be got by two working at it together, and correcting each other's mistakes.

"A second advantage possessed by this Game is that, besides being an endless source of amus.e.m.e.nt (the number of arguments that may be worked by it being infinite), it will give the Players a little instruction as well.

But is there any great harm in that, so long as you get plenty of amus.e.m.e.nt?"

To explain the book thoroughly would take the wit and clever handling of Lewis Carroll himself, but to the beginner of Logic a few of these unfinished syllogisms may prove interesting: a syllogism in logical language consists of what is known as two _Premisses_ and one _Conclusion_, and is a very simple form of argument when you get used to it.

For instance, supposing someone says: "All my friends have colds"; someone else may add: "No one can sing who has a cold"; then the third person draws the conclusion, which is: "None of my friends can sing," and the perfect logical argument would read as follows:

1. Premise--"All my friends have colds."

2. Premise--"No one can sing who has a cold."

3. Conclusion--"None of my friends can sing."

That is what is called a perfect syllogism, and in Chapter IV, which he calls _Hit or Miss_, Lewis Carroll has collected a hundred examples containing the two _Premisses_ which need the _Conclusion_. Here are some of them. Anyone can draw her own conclusions:

Pain is wearisome; No pain is eagerly wished for.

In each case the student is required to fill up the third s.p.a.ce.

No bald person needs a hairbrush; No lizards have hair.

No unhappy people chuckle; No happy people groan.

All ducks waddle; Nothing that waddles is graceful.

Some oysters are silent; No silent creatures are amusing.

Umbrellas are useful on a journey; What is useless on a journey should be left behind.

No quadrupeds can whistle; Some cats are quadrupeds.

Some bald people wear wigs; All your children have hair.

The whole book is brimful of humor and simple everyday reasoning that the smallest child could understand.

Another "puzzle" book of even an earlier date is "A Tangled Tale"; this is dedicated--

TO MY PUPIL.

Belovd pupil! Tamed by thee, Addish, Subtrac-, Multiplica-tion, Division, Fractions, Rule of Three, Attest the deft manipulation!

Then onward! Let the voice of Fame, From Age to Age repeat the story, Till thou hast won thyself a name, Exceeding even Euclid's glory!

In the preface he says: "This Tale originally appeared as a serial in _The Monthly Packet_, beginning in April, 1880. The writer's intention was to embody in each Knot (like the medicine so deftly but ineffectually concealed in the jam of our childhood) one or more mathematical questions, in Arithmetic, Algebra, or Geometry, as the case might be, for the amus.e.m.e.nt and possible edification of the fair readers of that Magazine.

"October, 1885. L. C."

These are regular mathematical problems and "posers," most of them, and it seems that the readers, being more or less ambitious, set to work in right good earnest to answer them, and sent in the solutions to the author under a.s.sumed names, and then he produced the real problem, the real answer, and all the best answers of the contestants. These problems were all called _Knots_ and were told in the form of stories.

Knot I was called _Excelsior_. It was written as a tale of adventure, and ran as follows:

"The ruddy glow of sunset was already fading into the somber shadows of night, when two travelers might have been observed swiftly--at a pace of six miles in the hour--descending the rugged side of a mountain; the younger bounding from crag to crag with the agility of a fawn, while his companion, whose aged limbs seemed ill at ease in the heavy chain armor habitually worn by tourists in that district, toiled on painfully at his side."

Lewis Carroll is evidently imitating the style of some celebrated writer--Henry James, most likely, who is rather fond of opening his story with "two travelers," or perhaps Sir Walter Scott. He goes on:

"As is always the case under such circ.u.mstances, the younger knight was the first to break the silence.

"'A goodly pace, I trow!' he exclaimed. 'We sped not thus in the ascent!'

"'Goodly, indeed!' the other echoed with a groan. 'We clomb it but at three miles in the hour.'

"'And on the dead level our pace is--?' the younger suggested; for he was weak in statistics, and left all such details to his aged companion.

"'Four miles in the hour,' the other wearily replied. 'Not an ounce more,'

he added, with that love of metaphor so common in old age, 'and not a farthing less!'

"''Twas three hours past high noon when we left our hostelry,' the young man said, musingly. 'We shall scarce be back by supper-time. Perchance mine host will roundly deny us all food!'

"'He will chide our tardy return,' was the grave reply, 'and such a rebuke will be meet.'

"'A brave conceit!' cried the other, with a merry laugh. 'And should we bid him bring us yet another course, I trow his answer will be tart!'

"'We shall but get our deserts,' sighed the older knight, who had never seen a joke in his life, and was somewhat displeased at his companion's untimely levity. ''Twill be nine of the clock,' he added in an undertone, 'by the time we regain our hostelry. Full many a mile have we plodded this day!'

"'How many? How many?' cried the eager youth, ever athirst for knowledge.

"The old man was silent.

"'Tell me,' he answered after a moment's thought, 'what time it was when we stood together on yonder peak. Not exact to the minute!' he added, hastily, reading a protest in the young man's face. 'An' thy guess be within one poor half hour of the mark, 'tis all I ask of thy mother's son!