Lewis Carroll didn’t just tumble into a rabbit hole. He was built for it. Most people think of Carroll—real name Charles Lutwidge Dodgson—as this isolated, stuttering Oxford math don who happened to dream up talking caterpillars. But if you want to know why his mind worked in such specific, rigid, and yet wildly imaginative ways, you have to look at the man who sat at the head of the dinner table. You have to look at his father, Archdeacon Charles Dodgson.
Wait. Is his name William?
Actually, that’s one of those weird Mandela Effect things that happens in literary circles. Lewis Carroll's father was named Charles Dodgson, just like his son. The "William" often gets mixed up in people’s heads because of the family’s sprawling genealogy or perhaps a confusion with other Victorian luminaries. Honestly, it’s a common mistake, but if you’re looking for the man who shaped the creator of Alice in Wonderland, you’re looking for the Venerable Archdeacon Charles Dodgson.
He was a powerhouse.
The High-Pressure World of Croft Rectory
The Archdeacon wasn't just some sleepy country parson. He was a double-first-class graduate from Christ Church, Oxford—in both Mathematics and Classics. Sound familiar? It should. His son Charles would later achieve almost the exact same academic pedigree.
The Dodgson household was a pressure cooker of intellect and piety. Imagine growing up in a house with eleven children where the father is a brilliant, high-church Anglican who translates Tertullian for fun. That was the reality at Croft Rectory in Yorkshire. The Archdeacon was a "Puseyite," a follower of the Oxford Movement. This wasn't "casual Sunday" religion; this was intense, ritualistic, and intellectually demanding faith.
He was a man of contrasts.
💡 You might also like: Wire brush for cleaning: What most people get wrong about choosing the right bristles
On one hand, he was incredibly kind. He converted a barge into a floating chapel for canal workers because he was worried about their spiritual well-being. That’s a level of hands-on empathy you don’t always see in high-ranking Victorian clergy. On the other hand, he was a man of ironclad rules.
The Logic Behind the Nonsense
You’ve probably wondered why Lewis Carroll’s books are so obsessed with rules, even when they’re being broken. That’s the Archdeacon’s DNA.
The elder Dodgson taught his children himself for years. He didn't just teach them what to think; he taught them how to think. Mathematics was the family language. Logic was the bedrock. When Lewis Carroll writes a poem like The Hunting of the Snark, he isn't just being silly; he’s applying a rigid, mathematical structure to total absurdity.
He learned that from his dad.
The Archdeacon wrote twenty-four books on theology and religious subjects. He was a man who believed that if you used the right words and the right logic, you could explain the divine. This obsession with the "precise use of words" became the central joke of Alice. When Humpty Dumpty says, "When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less," that is a direct, albeit playful, poke at the kind of linguistic precision his father demanded.
The Tension That Created Wonderland
Here is where it gets complicated.
📖 Related: Images of Thanksgiving Holiday: What Most People Get Wrong
As Charles (the son) grew up, he started to drift. Not away from God—he remained a devout deacon his whole life—but away from his father’s specific, rigid brand of Anglicanism.
The Archdeacon was strictly against the theater. He thought it was, at best, a distraction and, at worst, sinful. But Lewis Carroll loved the theater. He loved the spectacle, the costumes, and the escape. This created a quiet, simmering tension between them.
Then there was the priesthood.
In the 1800s, if you held a Studentship at Christ Church, you were basically expected to become a priest. His father expected it. His career path demanded it. But Charles stopped at being a Deacon. He never took the final step to become a full priest. Why? Some say it was his stammer; others say it was his love for photography and the theater, which a priest might have had to give up.
Whatever the reason, it was a break from the "family business."
A Quick Reality Check on the "William" Confusion
You might still be seeing the name William Dodgson pop up in older records or certain family trees. To be clear:
👉 See also: Why Everyone Is Still Obsessing Over Maybelline SuperStay Skin Tint
- Charles Dodgson (The Father): The Archdeacon of Richmond, died 1868.
- Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (The Son): Lewis Carroll, died 1898.
- Wilfred Longley Dodgson: One of the brothers.
- Edwin Heron Dodgson: Another brother who became a missionary.
There is no "William" who played a major role in the Lewis Carroll origin story. If you’re researching the father’s influence, stick to the name Charles. It makes things confusing, sure, but the Victorians loved naming their firstborns after themselves.
Why the Father Still Matters Today
When the Archdeacon died in 1868, Lewis Carroll was devastated. He wrote in his diary that it was the "deepest sorrow" he had ever known. But interestingly, it was only after his father’s death that Carroll’s writing became even more experimental and, in some ways, more melancholic.
Through the Looking-Glass is a much darker book than the first Alice. It’s a book about a world governed by the strict rules of chess, where everyone is moving toward a destination they can’t quite reach. It’s the ultimate tribute to his father’s logical mind, filtered through a son’s grief.
If you want to truly appreciate the depth of Carroll's work, you have to see it as a conversation with his father. It’s a mix of "I want to make you proud by being logical" and "I want to escape into a world where your rules don't apply."
How to Explore the Dodgson Legacy
If you’re a history nerd or a Carroll fan, there are a few things you should actually do to see this influence for yourself:
- Visit Croft-on-Tees: The rectory where they lived is still there. You can see the "sedilia" in the church (St. Peter's) where a young Charles supposedly saw a carving that inspired the Cheshire Cat.
- Read the Archdeacon’s Letters: If you can find them in a library or online archive, read the letters the father wrote to his children. They aren't dry; they are full of puns and wordplay. It turns out the "Lewis Carroll style" was actually a family trait.
- Contrast the Mathematics: Look at the father’s work on geometry and then look at the son's Euclid and his Modern Rivals. You’ll see the exact same intellectual DNA.
Basically, Lewis Carroll wasn't an outlier. He was the refined, slightly rebellious product of a very specific Victorian environment. He was a mathematician because his father was. He was a storyteller because his father was. He just happened to be the one who let the cat out of the bag—or rather, the rabbit out of the hole.