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A Duck Hunt.
Had they but carried more money and travelled in luxury they would not have been unlike the present-day Rhodes men, whose custom it is during vacation to scour the ends of the earth.
Inter-college and inter-’varsity athletic meetings were undreamed of in the eighteenth century. Because Georgian Oxford men could not boast representative colours, however, is no proof that they were not sportsmen. It would be impossible to find a set of men in anycentury more ready for deeds of daring do. They rode straight and ate hearty. They broke rules and defied statutes with a zest that suggests anarchism. In spite of wigs and ruffles they sped like hares down back alleys and scaled the high college walls like monkeys to avoid a conversation with the Proctors and their bulldogs. They sallied forth in trencher and gown, the insignia of their allegiance toAlma mater, and in sheer high spirits set themselves to bring about a fight with the jeering townees. Back to back they fought against all odds, recking little of bleeding noses and broken pates. If they drank too freely and encouraged the toasts, the blame was not entirely theirs. They did but follow the fashion of the times. Their password was thoroughness. Whatever they did, they did with all their might. If they rang bells, they made the air hideous until they fell exhausted. If they collected knockers they stripped a whole street before their energy waned. If they slacked they slacked superbly. Without any of the advantages brought about by modern ideas and inventions, our predecessors were sportsmen to the core and just as we to-day employ every moment of our four years to the fullest advantage so did the men who trod Oxford streets in wigs and laces when she was two centuries younger.
CLUBS AND SOCIETIES
The foregathering fresher—Dibdin and the “Lunatics”—The Constitution Club—The Oxford Poetical Club—Its rules and minutes—High Borlace—The Freecynics and Banterers.
The foregathering fresher—Dibdin and the “Lunatics”—The Constitution Club—The Oxford Poetical Club—Its rules and minutes—High Borlace—The Freecynics and Banterers.
Year by year the places of those who go down are filled by succeeding generations of public school men—men who are more conservative in ideas than the members of any other class of society. Their immediate ambitions are limited to achieving a Blue, capturing the presidency of the Union or winning one of the big university prizes.
They take things as they find them, and very rarely try to launch out on new lines. They early discover that gregariousness is one of the chief characteristics of an Oxford man. They find it exhibited in the extraordinary number of clubs and societies in each college. Their natural conservatism convinces them that as the forming of clubs is co-existent with university life, they must not hesitate to follow the admirable example of their seniors. With the untiring enthusiasm of youth they concentrate their brains and energies therefore to the formation of new clubs—having already become members of a great percentage of the long-founded university clubs which are open to them. They make the epoch-making discovery that many of their members have cut and dried ideas on politics, and that others are big with new theories on social conditions and the education of the masses. Heedless of the fact that in reality these new theories and political arguments have been discussed and thrashed out bythousands of Oxford men before they were born, they begin in their obsession to institute new clubs—political, musical, literary, debating, social, poetical—clubs of all kinds and conditions. They cultivate gregariousness, if it is not already temperamental, as one of the cardinal virtues. They foregather in each other’s rooms nightly, consume tremendous quantities of tobacco, cake, and coffee, and abide feverishly by every rule of the particular society of which they are the founders.
In the eighteenth century the men were just as fond of foregathering; but they laboured under severe disadvantages in connection with the authorities, who looked upon the formation of clubs and societies as something new and consequently revolutionary and dangerous. As an instance of the hide-bound conservatism of the moss-grown powers that were I cannot do better than take the case of Dibdin and the “Lunatics,” a club which was inaugurated at the very end of the eighteenth century. “Several members of several colleges (in the number of whom I was as proud as happy to be enlisted),” wrote Dibdin, “met frequently at each other’s rooms, to talk over and to concoct a code of laws or of regulations for the establishment of a society to be called a ‘Society for Scientific and Literary Disquisition.’ It comprehended a debate and an essay, to be prepared by each member in succession, studiously avoiding, in both, all topics of religious and political controversy. There was not the slightest attempt to beat down any one barrier of university law of regulation throughout our whole code. We were to meet in a hired room, at a private house, and were to indulge in our favourite themes in the most unrestrained manner, without giving ingress to a single stranger. Over and over again was each law revised, corrected, and endeavoured to be rendered as little objectionable as possible. At length, after thefinal touches, we demanded an interview with the Vice-Chancellors and Proctors; and our founder, William George Maton, of Queen’s College, Messrs Stoddart, Whitelock, Falconer (of Christ Church, Queen’s and Corpus Colleges) were deputed to meet the great men in office, and to report accordingly.
“Dr Wills was then Vice-Chancellor.... He received the deputation in the most courteous manner, and requested that the laws might be left with him, as much for his own particular and careful examination as for that of other heads of houses or officers whom he might choose to consult. His request was as readily complied with, and a day was appointed when the answer of the oracle might be obtained. In about a week, according to agreement, the same deputation was received within the library of the Vice-Chancellor who, after solemnly returning the volume (containing the laws) into the hands of our worthy founder, addressed them pretty nearly in the following words: ‘Gentlemen, there does not appear to be anything in these laws subversive of academic discipline, or contrary to the statutes of the university—but (ah, that ill-omened But!) as it is impossible to predict how they may operate, and as innovations of this sort, and in these times, may have a tendency which may be as little anticipated as it may be distressing to the framers of such laws, I am compelled, in the exercise of my magisterial authority, as Vice-Chancellor, to interdict your meeting in the manner proposed’”—and then one can see him ringing for the servant to show them out, with a polite smile on his fat face, in the usual red-tape manner. As, however, the deputation was prepared for something of this sort they merely retired politely, breathing murders and slaughterings against the archaism of the institution of Vice-Chancellor. Returning to their room, they came to the conclusion that as they did not intend to be beaten “there was,therefore, one result to adopt—one choice left; and that was, to carry the object, so dear to our hearts, into effect within our private apartments in rotation. There we might discuss, debate, and hear essays readad infinitum; and, accordingly, our first meeting took place in Queen’s College, at the rooms of our founder, afterwards so long and so well known in the medical world as Dr Maton.”[16]
After this preliminary check from the Vice-Chancellor, who, in charity be it said, probably could not help himself, and was only doing his duty according to his lights, the club throve like a bay tree and became exceedingly famous. “Our society was quickly enlarged, and the present Bishop of Llandaff, then a student of Corpus College, and the Rev. John Horseman, afterwards a tutor in the same college, were enrolled members. The two Moncrieffs of Baliol were also among our earlier acquisitions, and some gentlemen commoners of Trinity College (whose name I have forgotten) together with my oldest, and among my most valued friends, Mr Barwis of Queen’s, Mr Gibson (afterwards called Riddell) of Worcester, and George Foster of Lincoln—all united to give strength and respectability to our association. Our meetings were frequent and full. The essays after having been read, were entered in a book; and I am not sure whether, at this very day, such book be not in existence. The subjects of debate usually were, as of old they ever had been, whether the merits or demerits of such a character (Cæsar or Queen Elizabeth, for instance) were the greater? Or whether the good or evil of such a measure in legislation or in politics, the more predominent. Of our speakers, the elder Moncrieff, and George Forster of Lincoln were doubtless the most fluent and effective; especially the latter, who had a fervency of utterance which was at times surprising. But the younger Moncrieff,in course of time, followed his brother,passibus aequis. Taking the art of speaking and the composition of an essay together, I think Mr (now Sir John) Stoddart of Christ Church beat us all. He was always upon his legs, a fearless opponent, and in the use of a pen the most unpremeditating and successful....
“Meanwhile the fame of our club, or society, began to be noised abroad; and those who felt no inclination to write essays, or to impose upon themselves the toil of reading and research for the purpose of making a speech, were pretty free in using sneering epithets, and in stigmatising by nicknames. There was, however,onenickname which we instantly and courageously took to ourselves and adopted—and that was the ‘Lunatics.’ Mad, indeed we were, and desired so to be called—if an occasional deviation from dull and hard drinking, frivolous gossip, and Boeotian uproar, could justify that appellation.”
Undoubtedly the origin of present-day first year societies, which, unlike the “Lunatics,” are nearly always ephemeral affairs, may be found in the recollections of Richard Graves, in which, referring to William Shenstone, he says, “Our more familiar acquaintance commenced by an invitation from Mr Shenstone to breakfast at his chambers, which we accepted; and which, according to the sociable disposition of most young people, was protracted to a late hour; during which, Mr Shenstone, I remember, in order to detain us, produced Cotton’s ‘Virgil Travestie,’ which he had lately met with; and which, though full of indelicacies and low humour, is certainly a most laughable performance. I displayed my slender stock of critical knewledge by applauding, as a work of equal humour, Echard’s ‘Causes of the Contempt of the Clergy.’ Mr Whistler, who was a year or two older than either of us, I believe, and had finished his school education at Eton, preferred Pope’s ‘Rape of the Lock,’ as a higher species of humour thananything we had produced. In short, this morning’s lounge, which seemed mutually agreeable, was succeeded by frequent repetitions of them; and at length, by our meeting likewise, almost every evening, at each other’s chambers the whole summer, where we read plays and poetry,SpectatorsandTatlers, and other works of easy digestion, and sipped Florence wine.”[17]
There were many famous clubs in the eighteenth century, each of which had an individuality of its own. Just as the “Lunatics” was literary and debating, the Constitution Club was political and aggressive, the Oxford Poetical Club considered itself really poetical, and the High Borlace was purely social and jovial.
The Constitution Club had its headquarters at the King’s Head Tavern in the High. Its members “included five fellows, a chaplain and four gentlemen commoners of New College, one gentleman commoner and seven others of Oriel, three of Christ Church; Hart Hall, Worcester, All Souls, Merton, St John’s, Trinity, and Wadham contributed at least one member each—usually a gentleman commoner.”[18]The motives of its institution were, according to Amhurst, as follows: “The society took its rise from the iniquity of the times, and was intended to promote and cultivate friendship between all such persons as favour’d our present happy constitution; they thought themselves obliged openly and publickly to avow their loyalty, and manifest their sincere affection to King George upon all proper and becoming occasions, and to check, as much as in them lay, the vast torrent of treason and dissaffection which overflow’d the university. They thought it their duty to show all possible marks of respect to those faithful officers, who were so seasonably sent to that place, by the favour ofthe government, to protect the quiet part of the king’s subjects, and to suppress the tumultuary practices of the profess’d enemies to his majesty’s person and government; and for constantly adhering to what they thought their duty in those points; and for no other cause, that they can apprehend, they have been so unfortunate as to become obnoxious to the university, and to feel, many of them, the severe effects of their resentments.”
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A Western View of All Souls College.
How much truth there is in this account of the lofty aims and patriotic ambitions of this club, and whether Amhurst was one of the St John’s men who were members, and consequently had his facts first hand, or whether it is merely an account written round one or two of the club’s actions, it is impossible to ascertain. At any rate Amhurst seems to have dropped his sarcasm, and to have written straightforwardly and sincerely on their behalf. So that it is only fair to conclude that they had these objects, more or less, in view. In proof of his statements Christopher Wordsworth tells us that “on the king’s birthday, the 28th of May aforesaid, the whole body of the Constitution Club met together at a tavern and ordered the windows of the house to be illuminated, and some faggots to be prepared for a bonfire. But before the bonfire could be lighted, a very numerous mob, which was hired for that purpose, tore to pieces the faggots, and then assaulted the room where the club was sitting, with brickbats and stones. All the time that the mob was thus employed, the disaffected scholars, who had crowded the houses and streets near the tavern, continued throwing up their caps and scattering money amongst the rabble and shouting, ‘Down with the Constitutioners; down with the Whigs; no George; James for ever; Ormond, Bolingbroke,’ etc.... The Constitutioners thought it prudent to make the best of their way to their colleges for the night. On the Sundaythe club met again at Oriel, and were the objects of the indignation of the mob, who thronged the streets at six o’clock. A Brasenose man was wounded by a gunshot fired by one of the Constitutioners, or their friends in Oriel, after which the crowd retired to pull down the conventicles.” (This account of the affair is given as being less biassed than Amhurst’s, which, in substance, is identical, but does not tally in one or two details.)
The fat was consequently sizzling noisily in the fire. The whole place discussed nothing else for days. Prosecutions were hourly made in the Vice-Chancellor’s court. The grand jury of Oxfordshire made a “presentment” in no ordered terms against the Constitutioners, who also met with “unjust and scandalous usage” in St Mary’s, Golgotha, the Theatre, Convocation House, and the Schools, which all rang with “invectives and anathemas against them.... Even those grave tools, the Vice-Chancellor and Proctors, to enliven their dull harangues, and gain the applause of the subordinate rabble, never fail’d, in their most solemn speeches before the convocation, to fall foul and heavy on the Constitution Club.” The noise of the affair reached as far as the ears of the King himself, and “rattling letters” were sent to the Vice-Chancellor.
The Oxford Poetical Club was very famous in 1721. To obtain any accurate idea of its constitution and objects it is necessary to strike the happy mean between the accounts of it which are given by Amhurst and Erasmus Philipps. The latter recorded in his diary that on 17th August of that year he “went with Mr Tristram to the Poetical Club (whereof he is a member) at the Tuns, kept by Mr Broadgate, where met Dr Evans, Fellow of St John’s, and Mr Jno. Jones, Fellow of Balliol, members of the club. Subscribed 5s. to Dr Evans’s ‘Hymen and Juno’ (which one merrily call’d Evans’sBubble, it being now South Sea Time). Drank Galicia wine, and was entertained with two Fables of the Doctor’s composition, which were indeed masterly in their kind; but the Doctor is allowed to have a peculiar knack, and to excell all mankind at a Fable.”[19]
Amhurst, by no means a respecter of persons, devoted two papers to ridiculing the poetry club, from which I cull the following: “Divers eminent and most ingenious gentlemen, true lovers and judges of poetry, having with great grief observ’d that noble art declining in Oxford (its antient seat and fountain) resolv’d, if possible, to restore it to its pristine vigour and glory. They justly apprehended, both from reason and experience, that a critical lecture, once a term, though never so judicious, was not sufficient; and that the theory of any art was defective without the practice; and, therefore, they thought the best method to forward this design would be to institute a weekly meeting of the finest geniuses andbeaux espritsof the university, at a certain place, to be appointed by them, where they might debate the cause of poetry, and put its laws into regular execution. This proposal was immediately assented to; and the next question was, where to meet?
“This occasioned a short debate, some speaking in favour of the King’s Head, and some declaring for the Crown; but they were both opposed by others, who presum’d that the Three Tuns would suit them much better; in which they carry’d their point, and the Three Tuns was thereupon nominated the place of meeting, upon these two proviso’s, that Mr Broadgate would keep good wine and a pretty wench at the bar; both which are by all criticks allow’d to be of indispensable use in poetical operations.”
The alleged cause of this picturesque enumeration of imaginarydetails was that several poems had appeared at that time in the newspapers with the public sanction of the club. Terrae Filius immediately began to puzzle his brain as to the membership of the club and its intentions. For a time he admitted himself entirely baffled, but at last “chance, almighty chance,” prospered his wishes. As the result of his enquiries he discovered the rules of the society to be:—
“1. That no person be admitted a member of this society, without Letters Testimonial, to be sign’d by three persons of credit, that he has distinguished himself in some tale, catch, sonnet, epigram, madrigal, anagram, acrostick, tragedy, comedy, farce, or epick poem.
“2. That no person be admitted a member of this society, who has any visible way of living, or can spend five shillings per annumde proprio; it being an established maxim, that no rich man can be a good poet.
“3. That no member presume to discover the secrets of this society to any body whatsoever, upon pain of expulsion.
“4. That no member in any of his lucubrations do transgress the rules of Aristotle, or any other sound critick, antient or modern, under pain of having his said lucubrations burnt, in a full club, by the hands of the small-beer drawer.
“5. That no member do presume in any of his writings, to reflect on the Church of England, as by law established, or either of the two famous universities, or upon any magistrate or member of the same under pain of having his said writings burnt as aforesaid and being himself expell’d.
“6. That no tobacco be smoked in this society; the fumigation thereof being supposed to cloud the poetical faculty, and to clog the subtle wheels of the Imagination.
“7. That no member do repeat any verses, without leave first had and obtained from Mr President.
“8. That no person be allowed above the space of one hour at a time to repeat.
“9. That no person do print any of his verses, without the approbation of the major part of the society, under pain of expulsion.
“10. That every member do subscribe his name to the foregoing articles.”
These rules, before finally settled upon, had been fully discussed. A member, by name Dr Crassus, took strong objection to the smoking rule because he was covered with a superfluity of adipose tissue, and held that the use of tobacco “would carry off those noxious heavy particles which turn the edge of his fancy, and obstruct his intellectual perspiration.” He was backed up by a medical friend, and the result was that a special exception was made in his sole favour. A second gentleman said that he could not declare with a “safe conscience” that he was unable to spend five shillings per annumde proprio; but the President ably settled the point by observing that “as God is the sole author and disposer of all Things, we cannot in strict sense, call any thing our own; nor say that we have any visible way of living, our daily bread being the only bounty of His invisible hand, and therefore you may,salvâ conscientiâ, declare that you have no visible way of living; and that you cannot spend five shillings per annumde proprio, though according to vain human computation, you are worth five thousand pounds a year.” The final objection raised, before the rules were at last suitably framed and hung over the mantelpiece in the club-room, was that one of the gentlemen could not subscribe to Rule 10. He could not write, and therefore could not comply with the strict letter of the law. If, however, he could be allowed to make his mark, thewhole difficulty could be settled out of hand. This was agreed to without hesitation, “it being truly no uncommon Thing in many an excellent poet.”
Not content with thus pouring ridicule upon their foundation and institution, Amhurst, in his subsequent paper in which he described their first meeting absolutely surpassed himself at their expense.
Minutes of the Oxford Poetical Club.“The members being met, and Mr President having assum’d the chair, three preliminary bumpers pass’d round the board; after which Dr Crassus, in pursuance of the power granted him, as mentioned in our last, retir’d to a snug corner of the room where a little table was placed for him, with pipes and tobacco upon it; then the doctor handled his Arms; and as he was glazing his pipe with a Ball of superfine wax, which he always carried in his pocket for that use, he alarm’d the room with a sudden peal of laughter, which drew the eyes of the assembly towards him, and made all of them very solicitous to know the conceit which occasioned it; but the doctor was not, for several minutes, able to do it, the fit continuing upon him, and growing louder and louder; at last, when it began to intermit, he made a shift to reveal the cause of his mirth thus:—“‘Why, gentlemen,’ said he,—‘ha! ha! ha!—why, gentlemen, I say the prettiest Epigram! ha! ha! ha! I cannot tell you for my life—I have made, I say, upon this ball of wax here, ha! ha! ha!—that you ever heard in your lives. Shall I repeat it, Mr President?’“‘By all means, doctor,’ said he; ‘no body more proper to open the assembly than Doctor Crassus!’“Then the doctor compos’d his countenance, and standing up, withthe ball of wax in his right hand, pronounc’d the following distich with an heroick emphasis.“‘This wax, d’ye see, with which my pipe I glaze,Is the best wax I ever us’d in all my days.’“‘Ha! ha! ha! How d’ye like it, gentlemen ha! ha! ha! Is it not very pretty gentlemen?’“‘Very pretty, without flattery, doctor,’ said they all; ‘very excellent, indeed.’“Upon which the doctor smiled pleasantly, and lighted his pipe.... During the first part of the night their thoughts were something gloomy and run upon elegies and epitaphs upon living as well as dead men; but you will find them brighten up as the night advance and the bottles increase. They begin with satire and funeral lamentation; but end with love, smuttiness and a song”—and there I will leave them.
Minutes of the Oxford Poetical Club.
“The members being met, and Mr President having assum’d the chair, three preliminary bumpers pass’d round the board; after which Dr Crassus, in pursuance of the power granted him, as mentioned in our last, retir’d to a snug corner of the room where a little table was placed for him, with pipes and tobacco upon it; then the doctor handled his Arms; and as he was glazing his pipe with a Ball of superfine wax, which he always carried in his pocket for that use, he alarm’d the room with a sudden peal of laughter, which drew the eyes of the assembly towards him, and made all of them very solicitous to know the conceit which occasioned it; but the doctor was not, for several minutes, able to do it, the fit continuing upon him, and growing louder and louder; at last, when it began to intermit, he made a shift to reveal the cause of his mirth thus:—
“‘Why, gentlemen,’ said he,—‘ha! ha! ha!—why, gentlemen, I say the prettiest Epigram! ha! ha! ha! I cannot tell you for my life—I have made, I say, upon this ball of wax here, ha! ha! ha!—that you ever heard in your lives. Shall I repeat it, Mr President?’
“‘By all means, doctor,’ said he; ‘no body more proper to open the assembly than Doctor Crassus!’
“Then the doctor compos’d his countenance, and standing up, withthe ball of wax in his right hand, pronounc’d the following distich with an heroick emphasis.
“‘This wax, d’ye see, with which my pipe I glaze,Is the best wax I ever us’d in all my days.’
“‘Ha! ha! ha! How d’ye like it, gentlemen ha! ha! ha! Is it not very pretty gentlemen?’
“‘Very pretty, without flattery, doctor,’ said they all; ‘very excellent, indeed.’
“Upon which the doctor smiled pleasantly, and lighted his pipe.... During the first part of the night their thoughts were something gloomy and run upon elegies and epitaphs upon living as well as dead men; but you will find them brighten up as the night advance and the bottles increase. They begin with satire and funeral lamentation; but end with love, smuttiness and a song”—and there I will leave them.
The High Borlace was a Tory club which, says Christopher Wordsworth, “had a convivial meeting held annually at the King’s Head Tavern in Oxford, on the 18th of August (or, if that fell on a Sunday, on the 19th, as in 1734), on which occasion Dr Leigh, Master of Balliol, was of the High Borlace and the first clergyman who had attended. It seems to have been patronised by the county families, and it is not improbable that there was a ball connected with it. The members chose a Lady Patroness: in 1732 Miss Stonhouse; 1733, Miss Molly Wickham of Garsington; 1734 Miss Anne Cope, daughter of Sir Jonathan Cope of Bruern.”
In theGentleman’s Magazinein the year 1765 there was the following reference: “Monday Aug. 19, was held at the Angel inn, at Oxford, the High Borlase, when Lady Harriott Somerset was chosen Lady Patroness for the year ensuing.”
Of other smaller clubs there were the Freecynics in 1737, whichDr Rawlinson describes as “a kind of Philosophical Club who have a set of symbolical words and grimaces, unintelligible to any but those of their own society,” and the Nonsense Club, founded by George Coleman, Bonnel Thornton and Lloyd about 1750. The latter would seem from its name to be a revival of the earlier Banterers existing almost a century before, who are described by Wood as “a set of scholars so-called, some M.A., who make it their employment to talk at a venture, lye, and prate what nonsense they please, if they see a man talk seriously they talk floridly nonsense, and care not what he says; this is like throwing a cushion at a man’s head that pretends to be grave and wise.” Although Coleman assisted to found the Nonsense Club he makes no reference to it in his reminiscences, so it is more than probable that it was merely the whim of a term or so.
WORK AND EXAMINATIONS
Tolerated ignorance—Lax discipline—Gibbon and Magdalen—The “Vindication”—Opposing and responding—“Schemes”—Doing austens—Perjury and bribes—Receiving presents—Magdalen collections.
Tolerated ignorance—Lax discipline—Gibbon and Magdalen—The “Vindication”—Opposing and responding—“Schemes”—Doing austens—Perjury and bribes—Receiving presents—Magdalen collections.
Nowadays work is a factor in university life which has to be seriously reckoned with. However strong one’s intentions to do none, however convinced one may be of the complete absurdity and futility of cramming dull stuff for no apparent good reasons, when there is such a glorious time to be had doing nothing in the mornings and “sweating” at athletics in the afternoons, yet the Dons have of late acquired a foolish habit of sending a man down unless he succeeds in scraping through certain examinations.
They feel it to be essential, through some misguided feeling of duty, to harry the athlete and outdoor man, and at certain periods, even, to hound him in white tie, and as much gown as he can lay hands on, to the schools, and if, on his final exit from their clutches, they are not satisfied with the results of his cramming, they invert their thumbs and down he goes! It matters not whether he be merely a humble eightsman or the all-important President of the Boat Club. The examiners are no respecters of persons, and fear no man nor beast. The athlete retires willy nilly.
How different were the Dons’ views in Georgian times! Amhurst, serious for once, declared that the keynote of the century was tolerated ignorance. He made the statement boldly in the face of the high reputation of the Dons for learning and classical knowledge, in defianceof the wrath of the entire university. He was justified in making such an assertion, and I have tried to prove the truth of his words in the course of this chapter.
“A gentleman commoner,” he said, “if he be a man of fortune, is soon told that it is not expected from one of his form to mind exercises; if he is studious, he is morose, and a heavy bookish fellow; if he keeps a cellar of wine, the good natur’d fellows will indulge him, tho’ he should be too heavy-headed to be at chapel in the morning.”
In proof of this assertion I will take the case, from a sheaf of others, of Mr Harris, afterwards Lord Malmesbury, who was an Undergraduate of Merton in 1763. “The discipline of the university happened also at this particular moment to be so lax,” he wrote, “that a gentleman commoner”—and it would seem not to be of great moment whether he had riches or not—“was under no restraint, and never called upon to attend either lectures, or chapel, or hall. My tutor, an excellent and worthy man, according to the practise of all tutors at that moment, gave himself no concern about his pupils. I never saw him but during a fortnight, when I took it into my head to be taught trigonometry. The set of men with whom I lived were very pleasant but very idle fellows. Our life was an imitation of high life in London.” The entire lack of compulsion to work, however, did not by any means cause Harris and his friends to dwindle into mere “wasters.” From that little coterie eventually emerged Charles Fox and William Eden.
Gibbon, the historian of world-wide renown, never did one stroke of work while at Magdalen, nor was he ever asked, with any firmness, to do so. In his much discussed reminiscences he set down that “some duties may possibly have been imposed on the poor scholars, whose ambition aspired to the peaceful honours of a scholarship; butno independent members were admitted below the rank of gentleman commoner, and our velvet cap was the cap of liberty.” Commenting upon the prevailing slackness of tutors, Gibbon quoted his own experiences. The learned doctor to whose care he was first confided, described as “one of the best of the tribe,” had suggested that Gibbon should read the comedies of Terence every morning with him. “During the first weeks,” wrote Gibbon, “I constantly attended these lessons in my tutor’s rooms; but as they appeared equally devoid of profit and pleasure, I was once tempted to try the experiment of a formal apology. The apology was accepted with a smile. I repeated the offence with less ceremony; the excuse was admitted with the same indulgence; the slightest motive of laziness or indisposition, the most trifling avocation at home or abroad, was allowed as a worthy impediment; nor did my tutor appear conscious of my absence or neglect.... No plan of study was recommended for my use; no exercises were prescribed for his inspection; and at that most precious season of youth, whole days and weeks were suffered to elapse, without labour or amusement, without advice or account.”[20]
Such was the sum total of Gibbon’s relations with that worthy and excellent man, for, the following term, he found on his arrival, that he had departed from the college and that another tutor was installed in his place. Of his connection with this second tutor the Magdalen man wrote as follows: “Instead of guiding the studies, and watching over the behaviour of his disciple, I was never summoned to attend even the ceremony of a lecture; and, excepting one voluntary visit to his rooms, during the eight months of his titular office, the tutor and pupil lived in the same college as strangers to each other.” These accusations against the Magdalen discipline have been mostheatedly “vindicated” by the Rev. James Hurdis, who declared it to have been more Gibbon’s fault than the Dons’ that he was not looked after, because he gave flippant excuses which he dubbed formal apologies, and had not the patience to continue the course of lectures arranged and delivered by his tutors.
These vindicatory arguments do not hold water. All men will evade authority if they can. Therefore it is surely the place of the tutor to put his foot down and issue orders instead of letting his pupil wander at will and do no work.
In all the many descriptions of a day in the life of a Smart, or an ordinary gentleman commoner, or the river man, no references are to be found as to their doing any work. On the contrary, Skinner said that “Aristotle has been deserted for the bottle,” and launched into descriptions of the empty schools. With tutors who considered politics and consequent individual preferment of far greater importance than the mere conning of pupils’ work, it is not to be wondered at that the only men who did any work were those who were “bookish” by nature and preferred a quiet studious life to one of revelry and slacking. For the most part these worked independently of Dons, entirely of their own volition. As far as a good degree went, it was utterly useless; for the method of passing university examinations was, to put it mildly, a farce. The veracity of Vicesimus Knox is not for one moment to be questioned, so that the following account may be taken as a fair example of the customs of the times.
“The youth, whose heart pants for the honour of a Bachelor of Arts degree, must wait patiently till near four years have revolved. But this time is not to be spent idly. No; he is obliged, during this period, once to oppose, and once to respond, in disputations held in the public schools—a formidable sound and a dreadful idea; but, oncloser attention, the fear will vanish, and contempt supply its place. This opposing and responding is termed, in the cant of the place,doing generals. Two boys, or men, as they call themselves, agree to do generals together. The first step in this mighty work is to procure arguments. These are always handed down, from generation to generation, on long slips of paper, and consist of foolish syllogisms on foolish subjects; of the formation or the signification of which the respondent and opponent seldom know more than an infant in swaddling clothes. The next step is to go for aliceatto one of the petty officers, called the Regent Master of the Schools, who subscribes his name to the questions and receives sixpence as his fee. When the important day arrives, the two doughty disputants go into a large dusty room, full of dirt and cobwebs, with walls and wainscot decorated with the names of former disputants, who to divert the tedious hours cut out their names with their penknives, or wrote verses with a pencil. Here they sit in mean desks, opposite to each other, from one o’clock till three. Not once in a hundred times does any officer enter; and, if he does, he hears one syllogism or two, and then makes a bow, and departs, as he came and remained, in solemn silence. The disputants then return to the amusement of cutting the desks, carving their names, or reading Sterne’s ‘Sentimental Journey,’ or some other edifying novel. When this exercise is duly performed by both parties, they have a right to the title and insignia of Sophs; but not before they have been formally created by one of the regent-masters.... This work done, a great progress is made towards the wished-for honour of a Bachelor’s degree. There remain only one or two trifling forms, and another disputation, almost exactly similar to doing generals, but calledanswering under bachelor, previous to the awful examination. Every candidate is obliged to be examinedin the whole circle of the sciences by three Masters of Artsof his own choice. The examination is to be held in one of the public schools, and to continue from nine o’clock till eleven. The masters take a most solemn oath, that they will examine properly and impartially. Dreadful as all this appears, there is always found to be more of appearance in it than reality, for the greatest dunce usually gets histestimoniumsigned with as much ease and credit as the finest genius. The manner of proceeding is as follows: The poor young man to be examined in the sciences often knows no more of them than his bedmaker, and the masters who examine are sometimes equally unacquainted with such mysteries. Butschemes, as they are called, or little books, containing forty or fifty questions on each science, are handed down, from age to age, from one to another. The candidate to be examined employs three or four days in learning these by heart, and the examiners, having done the same before him when they were examined, know what questions to ask, and so all goes on smoothly. When the candidate has displayed his universal knowledge of the sciences, he is to display his skill in philology. One of the masters, therefore, desires him to construe a passage in some Greek or Latin classic, which he does with no interruption, just as he pleases, and as well as he can. The statutes next require that he should translate familiar English phrases into Latin. And now is the time when the masters show their wit and jocularity. Droll questions are put on any subject, and the puzzled candidate furnishes diversion by his awkward embarrassment. I have known the questions on this occasion to consist of an enquiry into the pedigree of a race-horse.... This familiarity, however, only takes place when the examiners are pot companions of the candidate, which indeed is usually the case; for it is reckoned good management to get acquainted with two orthree jolly young Masters of Arts and supply them well with port, previously to the examination. If the Vice-Chancellor and Proctors happen to enter the school, a very uncommon event, then a little solemnity is put on, very much to the confusion of the masters, as well as of the boy, who is sitting in the little box opposite them. As neither the officer, nor any one else usually enters the room (for it is reckoned veryungenteel) the examiners and the candidates often converse on the last drinking bout, or on horses, or read the newspaper, or a novel, or divert themselves as well as they can in any manner till the clock strikes eleven, when all parties descend, and thetestimonium, is signed by the masters. With thistestimoniumin his possession the candidate is sure of success. The day in which the honour is to be conferred arrives; he appears in the Convocation House, he takes an abundance of oaths, pays a sum of money in fees, and, after kneeling down before the Vice-Chancellor, and whispering a lie, rises up a Bachelor of Arts.”[21]
In order, therefore, to obtain the coveted privilege of going in for all these learned and difficult examinations, an Undergraduate had to calm his impatience and enjoy himself as best he could for four years. Then, having succeeded in getting himself fairly comfortably in debt, having learned how to string off a sonnet to the reigning toast and drink himself under the table, he was esteemed ripe for the whispering of a lie, and was conveniently fitted out with a degree. What more simple?
“And now, if he aspires at higher honours (and what emulous spirit can sit down without aspiring at them?) new labours and new difficulties are to be encountered during the space of three years. He mustdeterminein Lent, he mustdo quodlibets, he mustdo austens,he must declaim twice, he must read six solemn lectures, and he must be again examined in the sciences, before he can be promoted to the degree of Master of Arts. None but the initiated can know whatdetermining, doingquodlibets, and doingaustensmean. I have not room to enter into a minute description of such contemptible minutiæ. Let it be sufficient to say, that these exercises consist of disputations of syllogisms, procured and uttered nearly in the same places, time, and manner, as we have already seen them in doing generals. There is, however, a great deal of trouble in little formalities, such as procuring sixpennyliceats, sticking up the names on the walls, sitting in large empty rooms by yourself, or with some poor wight as ill-employed as yourself, without anything to say or do, wearing hoods and a little piece of lambskin wool on it, and a variety of other particulars too tedious and too trifling to enumerate.”
The eighteenth-century lad became an Undergraduate on condition of subscribing to a lie, and was sent down as a not undistinguished man after seven years by pronouncing another in the ear of the Vice-Chancellor.
“As university degrees are supposed to be badges of learning and merit, there ought to be some qualifications requisite to wear them, besides perjury, and treason, and paying a multitude of fees, which seem to be the three principal things insisted upon in our universities,” said Terrae Filius—and the persistent joker spoke never a truer word. While discussing the same question with some bitterness he asserted that a schoolboy has done more learned things for his breaking-up task than were required of an Oxford man after seven years’ residence. He more than bore out Knox’s words as to the custom of making one’s examiner drunk and so avoiding the irksome necessity of being asked awkward questions by him. “It is also wellknown,” he wrote, “to be the custom for the candidates either to present their examiners with a piece of gold, or to give them an handsome entertainment, and make them drunk; which they commonly do the night before examination, and sometimes keep them till morning, and so adjourn, cheek by joul, from their drinking-room to the school where they are to be examined.Quaere, whether it would not be very ungrateful of the examiner to refuse any candidate atestimoniumwho has treated him so splendidly over night? and whether he is not, in this case, prevail’d upon by bribes?”
So that in addition to making him drunk and incapable, but not disorderly—necessarily—the astute candidate, realising that the degree’s the thing, paid him a metaphorical thirty pieces of silver for his betrayal. Moreover, the collectors, that is to say the Dons who were in control of the determining, decided the days upon which the candidates were to present themselves. On certain days called “gracious” days, the examiners were only required to stay in the schools for half the usual time. The consequence was, explained Terrae, “The collectors having it in their power to dispose of all the schools and days in what manner they please, are very considerable persons, and great application is made to them for gracious days and good schools; but especially to avoid being posted or dogg’d, which commonly happens to be their lot who have no money in their pockets.”
The statues of course forbade collectors to receive presents, but a wink is as good as a nod, and it was customary for every determiner upon presenting himself to give the collector a “broad or half a broad.” In return for this douceur “Mr Collector,” said Amhurst, “entertains his benefactors with a good supper and as much wine as they can drink, besides gracious days and commodious schools. I have heard that some collectors have made four score or an hundred guineas of this place.”
The conclusion which is inevitably arrived at is that the examinations for, and in fact the whole question of obtaining a degree, were a farce and a sham, and that the authorities cared little who got one so long as they received their fees and were left in peace to smoke and tope in the common rooms.
The attendance at college exercises seems to have been equally dilatory. Gibbon said that the Magdalen College exercises were futile and a waste of time. He was tacitly allowed to stay away from them. The vindicator of Magdalen, thinking to nail Gibbon down, went to the trouble of enumerating term by term the exercises which the Undergraduates were supposed to perform. As interesting reading it is worthy of quotation, but as acoup de graceto Gibbon it is absurd. If all Magdalen men were bound to attend, why was Gibbon allowed to absent himself, or, if not allowed, why was he not hauled over the coals?—and it is ridiculous to suppose that Gibbon’s example was not followed by scores of fellow collegians. The present-day “colleckers,” held terminally, are, more or less, in the nature of a joke, but in those days, in spite of Hurdis’s burning loyalty to Magdalen, the following exercises which correspond to them are fearsome-sounding enough, but were more often than not unattended. “At the end of every term, from his admission till he takes his first degree, every individual Undergraduate of this college must appear at apublic examinationbefore the President, Vice-President, Deans, and whatever Fellows may please to attend; and cannot obtain leave to return to his friends in any vacation, till he has properly acquitted himself according to the following scheme.
“In hisfirstyear he must make himself a proficient—