In Derek Hudson's biography of Lewis Carroll, he says of Sylvie and Bruno "...the book remains one of the most interesting failures in English literature. It is certainly unique; no one but Dodgson could have written it; nothing like it will be produced again. Many people will say `Thank goodness for that.'" (p 230 Lewis Carroll An Illustrated Biography Derek Hudson NAL 1977) What distinguishes Carroll's finest work from his interesting failures?

The works generally acknowledged as Carroll's finest are the two Alice books--Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There --and that Agony in Eight Fits The Hunting of the Snark. Few works have struck such a chord in the general populace and have provided so many allusions. Could Lewis Carroll in his wildest fits of whimsy have dreamt of his influence on such diverse areas as political cartooning, mathematics, botany(HoS p 61) and the naming of the first DUFF trip report? Given that, why did Carroll's other works meet with so little success? How many people will mark this year's centenary of the publication of Sylvie And Bruno Concluded? Why is it that The Hunting of the Snark has become a cult favourite, while Phantasmagoria, Carroll's other major poem, is known to few other than the dedicated Carroll reader?
 
 

There are several reasons for the different perceptions of the major and the minor works. The first applies specifically to the novels. The Sylvie And Bruno books are seen as being particularly preachy. Hudson speaks of an "...overriding need to deliver his conscience and preach the gospel of love" (ibid p 231); Anne Clark says "the serious thought is much more concentrated in the second volume than the first. Perhaps this indicated an increasing desire to get his religious and other serious ideas across while life remained in him." (p 249 Lewis Carroll:A Biography Anne Clark Dent & Sons 1979); James Playsted Wood adds "...his later writing for children is restricted and constricted by his desire to inculcate an awareness of serious moral values. This is particularly true of Sylvie And Bruno (1889), which he considered perhaps his major work for children and of Sylvie And Bruno Concluded , published four years later" (p144 The Snark Was a Boojum: A Life of Lewis Carroll James Playsted Wood Pantheon Books,1966) MacMillan Books recognized this, going so far as to publish, in 1904, a portmanteau of the two books, with most of the preachy bits extracted.

The Alice books survive quite nicely without being preachy. Indeed, on those few occasions when Alice does get involved with morals, the morals come off second best. Take, for instance, the discussion with the Dutchess in the first volume in which the Dutchess, in attempting to find a moral in everything, produces the worst kind of nonsense.

"I ca'n't tell you just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in a bit."

 "Perhaps it hasn't one," Alice ventured to remark.

 "Tut, tut, child!" said the Dutchess. "Every thing's got a moral, if only you can find it." And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice's side as she spoke.

 "Alice did not much like her keeping so close to her; first, because the Dutchess was very ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right height to rest her chin on Alice's shoulder, and it was an uncomfortably sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude; so she bore it as well as she could." (Alice p120)

The Sylvie And Bruno books, on the other hand, are polluted by pages of moralizing. The books take the form of a complex intertwining of three universes, Dodgson's own, that of Fairyland and that of Outland. Those sections set in Dodgson's universe are full of philosophical discussion such as the following "
 
 

"It has occurred to me," said Arthur, "as a curious problem in Teleology----the Science of Final Causes," he added, in answer to an enquiring look from Lady Muriel.

 "And a Final Cause is----?"

 "Well, suppose we say----the last of a series of connected events----each of the series being the cause of the next----for whose sake the first event takes place."

 "But the last event is practically an effect of the first, isn't it? And yet you call it a cause of it!"

 Arthur pondered a moment. "The words are rather confusing, I grant you," he said. "Will this do? The last event is an effect of the first: but the necessity for that event is a cause of the necessity for the first."

 "That seems clear enough," said Lady Muriel. "Now let us have the problem."

 "It's merely this. What object can we imagine in the arrangement by which each different size (roughly speaking) of living creatures has its special shape? For instance, the human race has one kind of shape----bipeds. Another set, ranging from the lion to the mouse, are quadrupeds. Go down a step or two further, and you come to insects with six legs----hexapods----a beautiful name, is it not? But beauty, in our sense of the word, seems to diminish as we go down: the creature becomes more----I won't say 'ugly' of any of God's creatures----more uncouth. And, when we take the microscope, and go a few steps lower still, we come upon animalculae, terribly uncouth, and with a terrible number of legs!"

 "The other alternative," said the Earl, "would be a diminuendo series of repetitions of the same type. Never mind the monotony of it: let's see how it would work in other ways. Begin with the race of men, and the creatures they require: let us say horses, cattle, sheep, and dogs we don't exactly require frogs and spiders, do we, Muriel?"

 Lady Muriel shuddered perceptibly: it was evidently a painful subject. "We can dispense with them," she said gravely." (SaB p297)

and the whole final chapter of the first book

"You see I'm watering my flowers, though it is the Sabbath-Day," his voice had almost its old ring of cheerfulness as he replied "Even on the Sabbath-Day works of mercy are allowed. But this isn't the Sabbath-Day. The Sabbath-day has ceased to exist."

 "I know it's not Saturday," Lady Muriel replied; "but isn't Sunday often called 'the Christian Sabbath'?"

 "It is so called, I think, in recognition of the spirit of the Jewish institution, that one day in seven should be a day of rest. But I hold that Christians are freed from the literal observance of the Fourth Commandment."

 "Then where is our authority for Sunday observance?"

 "We have, first, the fact that the seventh day was 'sanctified', when God rested from the work of Creation. That is binding on us as Theists. Secondly, we have the fact that 'the Lord's Day' is a Christian institution. That is binding on us as Christians." (SaB p 385).

Not the sort of thing to read to any child, and rather boring for the adult reader. It is little wonder that these books find little praise.
 
 

Another minor factor affecting the success of the books is that Dodgson's fascination with Alice is, in the most part, kept under wraps. She is not clearly described in either of the books and our perceptions of her appearance are conditioned by Tenniel's illustrations. If one compares these to Dodgson's own illustrations, and to those of illustrators ever since it is clear that the reader has the liberty to picture Alice as he/she wishes. Sylvie, on the other hand, is clearly an object of great preciousness for Dodgson. As a participatuing narrator he can deliver such lines as

"Her eager smiling face was turned upwards towards her father's, and it was a pretty sight to see the mutual love with which the two faces --one in the Spring of life, the other in its late Autumn--were gazing on each other." (SaB p 8) and "...she was so delicate and graceful that she quite seemed to belong to the place, almost as if she was one of the flowers." (SaB p 192)

Added to this is the identification between Sylvie and her real world counterpart Lady Muriel. I suspect that this plot device is one that led to Hudson's evaluation of the book as a most interesting failure. Had Dodgson managed to adequately marry his plots, it would have been one of the most interesting stylistic experiments in Victorian literature. Unfortunately neither plot works well. The Victorian tale of love and duty that sees Muriel and Arthur apparently separated only to have Arthur mysteriously restored has too much of the melodrama in it, as does the separation of Sylvie and Bruno from their father and their Outland foster parents. Indeed, it took me several years of reading to reach the end of the book. Somehow neither seemed important. The Alice books have the advantage that both are quests and so have a clearly plotted direction. (They are also shorter.)
 
 

Sadly too, the seams are far too visible. The nonsense, when it is there, is every bit as convincing as Dodgson was in the Alice books but even when delightful, it takes on a moralistic tone. Take the Professor's Science lesson in Chapter 21 of SaBR where Bruno is told off for the feisty sort of comment that Alice might have made without reproach.

"I'll give you the Axioms of Science. After that I shall exhibit some Specimens. Then I shall explain a Process or two. And I shall conclude with a few Experiments. An Axiom, you know, is a thing that you accept without contradiction. For instance, If I were to say `Here we are!', that would be accepted without contradiction, and it's a nice sort of remark to begin a conversation with. So it would be an Axiom. Or again, supposing I were to say, `Here we are not!', that would be--"

 "--a fib!" cried Bruno.

 "Oh, Bruno!" said Sylvie in a warning whisper. "Of course it would be an Axiom, if the Professor said it!"

 "--that would be accepted, if people were civil," continued the Professor; "so it would be another Axiom."

 "It might be an Axeldum," Bruno said: but it wouldn't be true!" (The Complete Illustrated Works of Lewis Carroll p599)
 
 

There are some delightful digs at science and almost an attempt at parodying science fiction yet to come in his shrinking machine. Dodgson played with size changes in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland but here he provides a mechanistic rather than a magical rationale for the shrinking and expansion. (Can anyone else lay claim to the earliest F&SF use of the size changing machine? Wells toyed with the concept of size changes in 1904 in Food of the Gods but he used the "Eat me" approach.)
 
 

There is nonsence poetry, but nothing on the scale of Jabberwocky or You are old Father William. The one poem that gained a measure of fame is The Mad Gardener's Song

"He thought he saw an Elephant,
That practised on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
'At length I realise,' he said,
"The bitterness of Life!'" (SaB p65)

but I doubt that many who have heard of it would connect it to the book. There is little else that catches the mind for more than a moment or two.

The most Carrollian of the characters in the book, and the one who speaks lines that might well have suited Alice is Bruno, the precocious little boy and his speach is broken by "precious" and exceedingly annoying mannerisms. His cutsie "oo" for `you' and "welly" for `very' grate so much that even potentially delightful lines don't come across well.

"A welly curious machine," Bruno broke in, not at all willing to have the story thus taken out of his mouth, "and if oo puts in----some-finoruvver----at one end, oo know and he turns the handle----and it comes out at the uvver end, oh, ever so short!"

 (SaB p227)
 
 

"I wonder you've the face to tell me such fibs!" cried the Gardener.

 To which Bruno wisely replied "Oo don't want a face to tell fibs wiz----only a mouf."

 (SaB p67)

Sylvie is too gentle and the smoochy scenes between her and her brother may appeal to doting grandparents and uncles, but come across as too saccharine sweet for modern taste.
 
 

The Alice books, on the other hand, are twisted far enough from the commonplace to harbour a menace never quite named. Though both dreams each has an air of nightmare logic and real malice that is seldom glimpsed in the Sylvie and Bruno books. In a way it's like John Donne, though I'm sure that Dodgson would have shrunk from any comparison of his younger self to Donne's earlier rakehood. Both settled down to instruct youngsters in true Christian morality and, in doing so, their art lost its bite. Both specialized in the weird juxtaposition of images. Dodgson simply took it further.
 
 

It is in the creation process that the major works are established. Though both rely on previous works for their rationale, neither the Alice books nor The Hunting of the Snark rely on an accepted setting, in the way that the Sylvie and Bruno books use Fairyland and the poem Phantasmagoria leans on a common mythology of spirits. In the major works, Carroll created from the whole cloth. Phantasmagoria relies on our acceptance of a hierarchy of spirits and, is so cute in its use of them that I think it can claim to be the direct ancestor of Caspar the Friendly Ghost. (Incidentally I note that there was a conversation running through one of the Internet news groups that looked at Caspar's origins. Someone suggested that, because of his indestinct and rounded features, he was probably the ghost of an aborted foetus.)
 
 

In Phantasmagoria Carroll uses the common mythos to create some truly atrocious puns.

"His name is Kobald," said my guest:
"One of the Spectre order:
You'll very often see him dressed
In a yellow gown, a crimson vest,
And a night-cap with a border.

 "He tried the Brocken business first,
But caught a sort of chill;
So came to England to be nursed,
And here it took the form of thirst,
Which he complains of still.

 "Port-wine, he says, when rich and sound,
Warms his old bones like nectar:
And as the inns, where it is found,
Are his especial hunting
We call him the Inn-Spectre."(The Complete Illustrated Works of Lewis Carroll p 779)
 
 

but there is little else to recommend the poem. Here one cannot even blame age for the failings of the poem, as it fits squarely between the two Alice books. When compared to The Hunting of the Snark the piece is minor indeed. The Snark creates a dark mystery, all the more dark because of what it not revealed. The ghosts of Phantasmagoria are too commonplace. It is like comparing the witches of Bewitched to the crones of the Polanski version of Macbeth. The Snark twists reality through ninety degrees and we are in a place that is familiar enough to be really strange. The Snark is, with the possible exception of Jabberwocky, Dodgson's darkest vision. (Fit the Eighth)

"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."
 
 

That the Alice books can be read on several levels can be seen in the way that they have slotted into the pantheon of World literature; they are still, in bastardized forms, read by children--few other fantasies have done so well and, without wishing to denegrate The Wind in the Willows, Peter Pan or the Pooh books, I doubt that any other children's fantasy has gained so much acceptance among adults. The Hunting of the Snark has become a cult poem among the literatti. Phantasmagoria and the Sylvie and Bruno books, on the other hand, have been lost to all bar the most enthusiastic of Carrollians. I suppose we all produce clunkers and it's an object lesson to those of us who like to think that we are the best arbitters of our own writing to note that Dodgson saw Sylvie And Bruno as the capstone of his career and he felt that the best poem he ever wrote was A Song of Love

"Say, what is the spell, when her fledgelings are cheeping,
That lures the bird home to her nest?
Or wakes the tired mother, whose infant is weeping,
To cuddle and croon it to rest?
What the magic that charms the glad babe in her arms,
Till it cooes with the voice of the dove?
`Tis a secret, and so let us whisper it low--
And the name of the secret is Love!
For I think it is Love,
For I feel it is Love,
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love!
 
 

Say, whence is the voice that, when anger is burning,
Bids the whirl of the tempest to cease?
That stirs the vexed soul with an aching--a yearning
For the brotherly hand-grip of peace?
Whence the music that fills all our being--that thrills
Around us, beneath and above?
`Tis a secret: none knows how it comes, how it goes--
But the name of the secret is love!
For I think it is Love,
For I feel it is Love,
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love!"(The Complete Illustrated Works of Lewis Carroll p933).

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland 1865

 Phantasmagoria 1869

 Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There 1871

 The Hunting of the Snark. 1876

Sylvie And Bruno 1889

 Sylvie And Bruno Concluded 1893