The Third Man

To those who knew him well, the Rev. Charles L. Dodgson of Oxford University was a confusing fellow. Sometimes he was a stammering mathematician, who lectured so ploddingly that he often had to threaten his students with an extra assignment of "lines" to get them to class. At other times he became Mr. Lewis Carroll, the man who wrote Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and had a passion for kittens and children. Last week a Welsh professor reported some curious evidence about a third Mr. Dodgson--the curator of the Christ Church Senior Common Room.

The professor, Economist Duncan Black, happened to be investigating Mathematician Dodgson's theories in a political field--proportional representation. One day, in a cupboard of the Christ Church treasury, he came across "row upon row of green clothbound boxes, all neatly packed with envelopes." Inside were the meticulous records of Dodgson's entire ten-year curatorship. Apparently, not one of them had been opened since the day he retired in 1892.

Say "When." Obviously, Curator Dodgson did not take his duties lightly. He used every mathematical device he knew to keep his cellars just right and to make sure that the paneled Common Room would glow with good wine and talk. When he wanted to know the proper temperature for a wine or when it should be decanted, he was not satisfied with the opinion of only one expert. He wrote to ten, averaged up their answers and acted accordingly. Nor did he trust the accuracy of only one thermometer. Each week he faithfully took the average reading of three.

To make sure that his fellow dons got their money's worth--and no more--he invented a series of gauges by which to measure their drinks. All a man had to do was to hold a Dodgson gauge up to his glass and say "When" as the wine or liqueur reached a certain mark. Since liqueur prices varied, there were gauges for everything from green chartreuse to dry curac,ao, with a special scale and price list for each.

Take It Back. Being only human, Dodgson did make a mistake or two. Once, after a series of mathematical calculations, he boosted a cellar temperature from 50DEG to 60DEG, only to find that his claret began ripening far ahead of schedule and that it was all Christ Church men could do to drink it up in time. But otherwise, Mr. Dodgson was a paragon of scrupulous management, and once when a local merchant tried to ingratiate himself by sending a Christmas gift of fruit, he huffily sent it back. "Mr. Dodgson would have thought it hardly necessary " he wrote, "to point out that the curator whose duty it is to provide the best goods he can for the Common Room, cannot possibly accept presents from any tradespeople concerned. He thinks it only fair to warn Messrs. Snow that any repetition of such attention may seriously affect their provision as wine merchants dealt with by the Common Room."

Such missives, of course, were typical of the Rev. Mr. Dodgson. But it was undoubtedly Mr. Lewis Carroll who had the final word about the life of a curator Surely," he wrote one day, "any curator worthy of the name would be found if physically tested, to possess a density directly and a gravity inversely varying as the potency of port; if tested anatomically, to have the word 'wine' neatly emblazoned on his heart; and if finally submitted to quantitative analysis, to consist primarily of C4H602," which, in early 19th century chemistry, spells alcohol.

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