When mulling over boat trips that inspired major works of fiction, we inevitably think of Mark Twain piloting the 865-ton Memphis down the Mississippi River, Joseph Conrad serving as a steamboat captain in the Congo, or Herman Melville's 18-month trip to the South Pacific. But 150 years ago this week, a very short boat trip took place that resulted in a very big book— perhaps not in word count (it's only one-tenth the size of Moby Dick ), but certainly by any other measure.
If you know which book I'm referring to, you will probably credit its inspiration to a young girl named Alice. But I have a different view, and prefer to give props to a forgotten Anglican minister, who may be the real reason why we now enjoy the famous story of Alice in Wonderland .
On July 4, 1862, mathematician Charles Dodgson— better known to us as Lewis Carroll—spent a pleasant afternoon with a small party of acquaintances. The group embarked on a rowing expedition from Oxford, journeying to Godstow some three miles away, where they stopped to have tea on the river bank. Dodgson was joined by his friend Reverend Robinson Duckworth and the three Liddell sisters: Edith (age 8), Alice (age 10) and Lorina (age 13). As he often did on such occasions, Dodgson regaled his companions with an extemporized tale, filled with such fantastic and humorous characters and incidents as might delight the young ladies in his charge.
He named the protagonist of his fanciful story Alice, after the middle Liddell sister. He told of his heroine's pursuit of the White Rabbit, her journey down a rabbit hole, and Alice’s ensuing adventures in a magical, topsy-turvy world now known to us as Wonderland. Alice Liddell was so charmed by the tale that she insisted Mr. Dodgson write it down for her. The young mathematician did just that, and later presented her with a manuscript entitled Alice's Adventures Under Ground .
Dodgson had already sent the story to George MacDonald, an author whose works would later influence C.S. Lewis (who called MacDonald his "master") and J. R. R. Tolkien . MacDonald submitted the manuscript to the ultimate test—he gave it to his own children to read, and relayed their enthusiastic response to Dodgson, who embarked on rewrites with an eye toward publication. The new version, now entitled Alice's Adventures in Wonderland , was almost twice as long as the earlier manuscript, and benefited from the addition of now famous scenes involving the Cheshire Cat and the Mad Hatter's tea party. With the further enhancement of illustrations by John Tenniel, the story was published in 1865, and credited to author Lewis Carroll.
Those tracing the history of this now famous work typically focus on the catalytic role of the young real-life Alice, ten year old Alice Liddell, in inspiring the story. But I have a different opinion, and see the other adult, the forgotten Reverend Duckworth—a talented singer, who was then a fellow at my alma mater Trinity College, Oxford—playing the decisive role in shaping the peculiar character of Alice in Wonderland . In Duckworth's account of the day, he provides these important details: "I rowed stroke and he rowed bow…and the story was actually composed and spoken over my shoulder for the benefit of Alice Liddell."
And why is this important? This unusual setting for literary invention helps us understand why Carroll's narrative has the distinct flavor of a tale aimed simultaneously at children and adults. As readers of this classic are aware (and even more so, readers of Martin Gardner's marvelous annotated version of the work), this book is much more than an amusing story for young children, but a multilayered work filled with many things—allusions, puns, philosophical speculation and humorous asides—far more suited to an audience of grownups. These coexist with the fantastic fairy tale elements that no doubt delighted the Liddell sisters. So give the fine Reverend his due for forcing his friend to extemporize in a manner suited to both young and old.
Carroll was neither the first nor the last to instill adult concerns into stories for children—other bearers of tales, from Aesop to Lemony Snicket have done the same. But Carroll is the preeminent master of this distinctive breed of fictive multivalence, mixing in wildly different elements in a provocative manner that anticipates postmodern narrative techniques, even while understanding the demands of composing stories for younger readers. This balancing act, never easy, would be beyond many celebrated authors who write with skill and success for either adults or children, but would be flummoxed trying to do both at the same time.
The memorable characters—the Queen of Hearts, the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat, and others—provide much of the magic here. They are the parts of this story most often remembered and discussed…and most easily transferred to other media via the book's numerous adaptations. Of these, there are no shortage: Carroll’s work has inspired films, cartoons, video games, graphic novels, stage productions, operas, radio broadcasts, and theme park rides. But the real essence of Carroll's achievement, namely his unique mixture of the playful, profound and paradoxical, is far less easy to transplant into other formats. For this reason, even those who think they are intimately familiar with the story of Alice from these adaptations are likely to be surprised and delighted when they first encounter Carroll's book.
This in itself offers a valuable lesson. In our day and age, many are inclined to see a story on the printed page as one-dimensional, as inevitably falling short of the technologically-enhanced tales shown on the screen, turbocharged with special effects, 3D, and all the other advances that Carroll—himself a devoted photographer fascinated with the visual image—could never have anticipated. Yet with this particular story the roles are reversed. When grappling with Alice in Wonderland , the movie or computer screen is the flat, undifferentiated surface, while the printed page takes on extraordinary depth, conveying a plenitude of meanings and marvels that cannot be "enhanced" or even replicated by the most advanced digital tools.
And that may be the greatest wonder of Wonderland. It's a wonder, moreover, that need not ever expire, given the extraordinary nature of Carroll's imagination. For this book, in contradistinction to almost every other narrative for children, delights in asking questions rather than offering answers, in opening doors and passageways (or rabbit holes, for that matter), rather than shutting them off, in inspiring creativity rather than serving it up pre-packaged. And that’s a kind of wonder we ought always to nurture, and never to outgrow.
Ted Gioia writes on music, literature, and popular culture. His newest book is The Jazz Standards: A Guide to the Repertoire .
150 years ago this week, Lewis Carroll took the now famous boat trip with Alice Liddell that inspired his book Alice in Wonderland. But did a little-known Anglican minister play a bigger role than the real-life Alice in the creation of this classic work?