There can surely be few of us from whom the daily chore of putting
on a wristwatch has not at times elicited the melancholy cry, “Oh wretched timepiece!
Thus I don the manacle of mortality!”
Alice in Wonderland begins
with a White Rabbit looking at his watch and crying “I’m late!”, which I take
to be a similar sentiment, and indeed for me it was an early encounter with
Alice that led, in a kind of Primal Scene, to the shocking realisation not only
that death comes to us all, but that even characters in books are not immune.
As a child I lived near the New Forest, and one day my mother, in lugubrious mood, took me and my brother round Lyndhurst churchyard. There she pointed out a rather grand (but not beautiful) box grave from the 1930s and identified it as that of Alice. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect I channelled Peter from Tom’s Midnight Garden and wailed something like “But that—that's not Alice: that's a grownup woman! (And, by the way, she’s dead!)”
As a child I lived near the New Forest, and one day my mother, in lugubrious mood, took me and my brother round Lyndhurst churchyard. There she pointed out a rather grand (but not beautiful) box grave from the 1930s and identified it as that of Alice. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect I channelled Peter from Tom’s Midnight Garden and wailed something like “But that—that's not Alice: that's a grownup woman! (And, by the way, she’s dead!)”
Of course, it was actually the grave of Alice Liddell (later Hargreaves),
not Alice herself, but being five years old I was not in the mood for such
ontological niceties. There, I think, my instincts were sound.
The
grave's a fine and private place,
But none there win the caucus race.
But none there win the caucus race.
All this came to mind the other day when I made a day trip to
Oxford, with a friend who was visiting from abroad. I was trying to show her
various interesting places in striking distance of Bristol: we’d already
covered Glastonbury, Cheddar Gorge, the Brecon Beacons, Bath, Avebury, and one or two other places, so Oxford was obviously next on the
list. Although I’d been to the city on many occasions I’d never crossed the
threshold of Christ Church College, where Alice was brought up (her father
being Dean), but we thought it might be worth a look at Tom Quad and the Great
Hall, even if entry cost us £9 apiece (“Each ticket funds half a glass of Chateau
Lafite for the cellar!").
We duly saw statues of Dean Liddell, looking even more historical
than his dead daughter, and Thomas Wolsey, the College’s founder, both of whom
were gazing down on the more merely mortal mortals from the comfort of their perches high on the college walls.
So, anyway – it’s about time I justified the title of this post.
Christ Church is also of the course the place where Harry met Ally, in that it
offers a point of contact between Alice and Harry Potter. How so? Well, according to the
sign at the porter’s lodge, the Great Hall was "the inspiration for
Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films".
I was surprised to read this, because my impression had always
been that the inspiration for Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films was Hogwarts
in the Harry Potter books... But then, I'm biased towards the written word.
Of course, I knew what they meant – namely that a location scout had found in the Great Hall a place that answered well enough to the description in the book to be used as the model for a set. Certainly plenty of Potter fans had found it worth visiting on that basis, and the college shop catered happily to them with cloaks and wands.
Of course, I knew what they meant – namely that a location scout had found in the Great Hall a place that answered well enough to the description in the book to be used as the model for a set. Certainly plenty of Potter fans had found it worth visiting on that basis, and the college shop catered happily to them with cloaks and wands.
But hang on… isn't that a bit like saying that Daniel Radcliffe
was the inspiration for Harry Potter himself, because a casting director did
something similar? Had our £18 been well spent or not?
I puzzled over this. Perhaps I had misunderstood this inspiration business? I remembered Humpty Dumpty, his words ghost-written by a Christ Church don: “When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.” Humpty’s testimony was corroborated by Mr Toad: “The clever men at Oxford know all there is to be knowed.”
I puzzled over this. Perhaps I had misunderstood this inspiration business? I remembered Humpty Dumpty, his words ghost-written by a Christ Church don: “When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.” Humpty’s testimony was corroborated by Mr Toad: “The clever men at Oxford know all there is to be knowed.”
Slowly I began to see that my rustic brain had been hopelessly
unsubtle. After all, when a film is made of a book, there can be an inspiration
feedback effect, especially if the book series is still being written. It's
well known that Colin Dexter was influenced by John Thaw's portrayal of
Inspector Morse in his later novels (to take another Oxford example). Perhaps
Harry Potter was inspired by Radcliffe?
Perhaps, too, the Great Hall really did have its part to play in inspiring the
books that inspired the films?
If so, I suggest that they should not only be charging a £9 entrance fee
but royalties too. Then they really could improve the quality of the wine at
high table. And, since the Great Hall was the brainchild of the college’s
founder, I look forward to the day when every copy of Harry Potter contains in
its fly leaf the line following line:
3 comments:
All true, Cathy! What fun, and thank you.
Inspired creative logic at work here! Thanks for the post - it made a great start to the week.
I loved the little story that I read about Château Lafite.
There is also a Château Lafitte. In contrast to a sometimes £2,000 a bottle Lafite, the 250 year old Château Lafitte produces a £20 unclassified claret.
For years, the giant Château Lafite Rothschild outfit had dragged Chateau Lafitte through
the courts, in attempts to smother the latter's use of the Lafitte name.
Finally, in France, the Court of Cassation said enough. And in a piece of Gallic humour, forbade the serial courtmongers from using "Lafite" without the "Rothschild"..., lest any buyers mistake it for Château Lafitte.
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