The (almost really) Complete Works of Lewis Carroll

To the Editor of the Observer

Sir: Your paper of May 29 contains a leading article on Christ Church, resting on so many misstatements of fact that I venture to appeal to your sense of justice to allow me, if no abler writer has addressed you on the subject, an opportunity of correcting them. It will, I think, be found that in so doing I shall have removed the whole foundation on which the writer has based his attack on the house, after which I may contentedly leave the superstructure to take care of itself. “Christ Church is always provoking the adverse criticism of the outer world.” The writer justifies this rather broad generalisation by quoting three instances of such provocation, which I will take one by one.

“At one time we are told that the Dean … neglects his functions, and spends the bulk of his time in Madeira.” The fact is, that the Dean’s absence from England more than twenty years ago during two successive winters was a sad necessity, caused by the appearance of symptoms of grave disease, from which he has now, under God’s blessing, perfectly recovered.

The second instance occurred eleven years ago, when some of the undergraduates destroyed some valuable statuary in the library. Here the writer states that the Dean first announced that criminal proceedings would be taken, and then, on discovering that the offenders were “highly connected,” found himself “converted to the opinion that mercy is preferable to stern justice, and charity to the strict letter of the law.” The facts are that the punishment awarded to the offenders was deliberated on and determined on by the Governing Body, consisting of the Dean, the Canons, and some twenty senior students; that their deliberations, in which I took part, were most assuredly in no way affected by any thoughts of the offenders being “highly connected;” and that, when all was over, we had the satisfaction of seeing ourselves roundly abused in the papers on both sides, and charged with having been too lenient, and also with having been too severe.

The third instance occurred the other night. Some undergraduates were making a disturbance, and the junior censor “made his appearance in person upon the scene of riot,” and “was contumeliously handled.” Here the only statement of any real importance, the alleged assault by Christ Church men on the junior censor, is untrue. The fact is that nearly all the disturbers were out-College men, and though it is true that the censor was struck by a stone thrown from a window, the unenviable distinction of having thrown it belongs to no member of the House. I doubt if we have one single man here who would be capable of so base and cowardly an act.

The writer then gives us a curious account of the present constitution of the House. The Dean, whom he calls “the right reverend gentleman,” is, “in a kind of way, Master of the College.” The Canons, “in a vague kind of way, are supposed to control the College.” The senior students “dare not call their souls their own,” and yet somehow dare “to vent their wrath” on the junior students. His hazy, mental picture of the position of the Canons may be cleared up by explaining to him that the “control” they exercise is neither more nor less than that of any other six members of the Governing Body. The description of the students I pass over as not admitting any appeal to actual facts.

The truth is, that Christ Church stands convicted of two unpardonable crimes—being great, and having a name. Such a place must always expect to find itself “a wide mark for scorn and jeers”—a target where the little and the nameless may display their skill. Only the other day an M.P., rising to ask a question about Westminster School, went on to speak of Christ Church, and wound up with a fierce attack on the ancient House. Shall we blame him? Do we blame the wanton schoolboy, with a pebble in his hand, all powerless to resist the alluring vastness of a barndoor?

The essence of the article seems to be summed up in the following sentence: “At Christ Church all attempts to preserve order by the usual means have hitherto proved uniformly unsuccessful, and apparently remain equally fruitless.” It is hard for one who, like myself, has lived here most of his life, to believe that this is seriously intended as a description of the place. However, as general statements can only be met by general statements, permit me, as one who has lived here for thirty years and has taught for five and twenty, to say that in my experience order has been the rule, disorder the rare exception; and that, if the writer of your leading article has had an equal amount of experience in any similar place of education, and has found a set of young men more gentlemanly, more orderly, and more pleasant in every way to deal with, than I have found here, I cannot but think him an exceptionally favoured mortal.—Yours, &c.