Night Light

Cathedral Close, Winchester

We had a family meal in Winchester's Brasserie Blanc on Sunday, in anticipation of my birthday this week (I had poulet à la moutarde, very nice, thanks!). Afterwards, we went for a stroll through the centre of town, before our dining companions had to catch their train back to London. It was a cold day, and a drizzly rain had started to fall, but passing the entrance of Winchester College – one of the country's most prominent public (i.e. private) schools, fees a mere £60K p.a. for boarders – my son noticed there was free entry to some kind of museum within the grounds, so we decided to take a look.

Winchester College was founded in 1382 by William of Wykeham, a sort of mediaeval prototype of that Tudor mover and shaker, Thomas Cromwell, with a similar c.v. but a happier outcome. William had also put his trust in princes, contrary to biblical advice (Psalm 146), but got away with it, handsomely, dying as one of the most influential and richest men in the country. Over the centuries Old Wykehamists have donated all manner of stuff to the school, which mainly seems to have ended up as teaching aids or stashed away out of sight in various lofts. So a few years ago the old Treasury building was made into a museum, open to the public, where displays of the school's treasures, curiosities, and knick-knacks can be seen. (But if you think this will justify your charitable status, chaps, think again... Come on, Starmer, FFS just do it!).

It's very professionally and tastefully done, in the universal "modern museum" style, using honey-coloured wood and plate glass. On Sunday afternoon we were the only visitors the entire time we were there. We enjoyed ourselves: it was like having our own private Wunderkammer. How often, for example, do you get the chance to get up close to a set of casts of the Parthenon frieze (a.k.a. the Elgin Marbles)? Or gaze at early editions of Paradise Lost, Lyrical Ballads, or Blake's illustrated edition of Young's Night Thoughts? Apparently the displays are regularly refreshed, and the inevitable Jane Austen 250th birthday tribute is upcoming later in 2025. Who knows, I might even read one this year, although not ever having read any Austen probably gives me more pleasure, and is certainly easier to achieve.

For me, though, there was one truly stand-out item, lurking in a cabinet of Chinese porcelain. Which was this:

I have often fantasised about a spontaneous smash-and-grab raid in various museums and galleries, but this was particularly tempting. Apparently, it is a night light, an early ancestor of the softly illuminated bedside lamps you can get today. A candle would have been placed inside (there's a hole in the top), and the cat's eyes would glow (there are holes in the eyes surrounded by thinner, white porcelain). Allegedly such night lights had a dual purpose: to comfort children who were afraid of the dark, and to scare off rats. Hopefully not both at the same time in the same room. Never mind rats, though, I imagine the thing could be equally unsettling to any nervous child, waking up in the night to meet the unblinking gaze of this glimmering goggle-eyed guardian: miaaow! It's hardly Hello Kitty, is it?

It seems these Chinese porcelain cat night lights were once a Thing, and – disappointingly – I see actual originals go for thousands at auction. If I were the entrepreneurial type I'd immediately knock up a battery-operated prototype and join the queue outside the Dragons' Den, confident I was about to become extremely wealthy. But I'm not, and I won't, and therefore never will be. Extremely wealthy, that is. But, seriously, wouldn't you love to have one of these on your bedside table?