OXFORD.

[Mr. Hawthorne extracted from his recorded Oxford experiences his

excursion to Blenheim, but left his observations of the town itself

untouched,--and these I now transcribe.--ED.]

August 31st.--. . . . Yesterday we took the rail for London, and drove

across the city to the Paddington station, where we met Bennoch, and set

out with him for Oxford. I do not quite understand the matter, but it

appears that we were expected guests of Mr. Spiers, a very hospitable

gentleman, and Ex-Mayor of Oxford, and a friend of Bennoch and of the

Halls. Mr. S. C. Hall met us at the Oxford station, and under his

guidance we drove to a quiet, comfortable house in St. Giles Street,

where rooms had been taken for us. Durham, the sculptor, is likewise of

the party.

After establishing ourselves at these lodgings, we walked forth to take a

preliminary glimpse of the city, and Mr. Hall, being familiar with the

localities, served admirably as a guide. If I remember aright, I spoke

very slightingly of the exterior aspect of Oxford, as I saw it with

J----- during an hour or two's stay here, on my way to Southampton (to

meet S----- on her return from Lisbon). I am bound to say that my

impressions are now very different; and that I find Oxford exceedingly

picturesque and rich in beauty and grandeur and in antique stateliness.

I do not remember very particularly what we saw,--time-worn fronts of

famous colleges and halls of learning everywhere about the streets, and

arched entrances; passing through which, we saw bits of sculpture from

monkish hands,--the most grotesque and ludicrous faces, as if the

slightest whim of these old carvers took shape in stone, the material

being so soft and manageable by them; an ancient stone pulpit in the

quadrangle of Maudlin College (Magdalen), one of only three now extant in

England; a splendid--no, not splendid, but dimly magnificent--chapel,

belonging to the same College, with painted windows of rare beauty, not

brilliant with diversified hues, but of a sombre tint. In this chapel

there is an alabaster monument,--a recumbent figure of the founder's

father, as large as life,--which, though several centuries old, is as

well preserved as if fresh from the chisel.

In the High Street, which, I suppose, is the noblest old street in

England, Mr. Hall pointed out, the Crown Inn, where Shakespeare used to

spend the night, and was most hospitably welcomed by the pretty hostess

(the mother of Sir William Davenant) on his passage between Stratford and

London. It is a three-story house, with other houses contiguous,--an old

timber mansion, though now plastered and painted of a yellowish line.

The ground-floor is occupied as a shoe-shop; but the rest of the house is

still kept as a tavern. . . .

It is not now term time, and Oxford loses one of its most characteristic

features by the absence of the gownsmen; but still there is a good deal

of liveliness in the streets. We walked as far as a bridge beyond

Maudlin College, and then drove homeward.

At six we went to dine with the hospitable Ex-Mayor, across the wide,

tree-bordered street; for his house is nearly opposite our lodgings. He

is an intelligent and gentlemanly person, and was Mayor two years ago,

and has done a great deal to make peace between the University and

the town, heretofore bitterly inimical. His house is adorned with

pictures and drawings, and he has an especial taste for art. . . . The

dinner-table was decorated with pieces of plate, vases, and other things,

which were presented to him as tokens of public or friendly regard and

approbation of his action in the Mayoralty. After dinner, too, he

produced a large silver snuff-box, which had been given him on the same

account; in fact, the inscription affirmed that it was one of five pieces

of plate so presented. The vases are really splendid,--one of them two

feet high, and richly ornamented. It will hold five or six bottles of

wine, and he said that it had been filled, and, I believe, sent round as

a loving-cup at some of his entertainments. He cordially enjoys these

things, and his genuine benevolence produces all this excellent

hospitality. . . . But Bennoch proposed a walk, and we set forth. We

rambled pretty extensively about the streets, sometimes seeing the shapes

of old edifices dimly and doubtfully, it being an overcast night; or

catching a partial view of a gray wall, or a pillar, or a Gothic archway,

by lamplight. . . . The clock had some time ago struck eleven, when we

were passing under a long extent of antique wall and towers, which were

those of Baliol College. Mr. D------ led us into the middle of the

street, and showed us a cross, which was paved into it, on a level with

the rest of the road. This was the spot where Latimer and Ridley and

another Bishop were martyred in Bloody Mary's time. There is a memorial

to them in another street; but this, where I set my foot at nearly

midnight, was the very spot where their flesh burned to ashes, and their

bones whitened. It has been a most beautiful morning, and I have seen

few pleasanter scenes than this street in which we lodge, with its

spacious breadth, its two rows of fine old trees, with sidewalks as wide

as the whole width of some streets; and, on the opposite side, the row of

houses, some of them ancient with picturesque gables, partially disclosed

through the intervening foliage. . . . From our window we have a

slantwise glimpse, to the right, of the walls of St. John's College, and

the general aspect of St. Giles. It is of an antiquity not to shame

those mediaeval halls. Our own lodgings are in a house that seems

to be very old, with panelled walls, and beams across the ceilings,

lattice-windows in the chambers, and a musty odor such as old houses

inevitably have. Nevertheless, everything is extremely neat, clean, and

comfortable; and in term time our apartments are occupied by a Mr.

Stebbing, whose father is known in literature by some critical writings,

and who is a graduate and an admirable scholar. There is a bookcase of

five shelves, containing his books, mostly standard works, and indicating

a safe and solid taste.

After lunch to-day we (that is, Mrs. Hall, her adopted daughter, S-----,

and I, with the Ex-Mayor) set forth, in an open barouche, to see the

remarkables of Oxford, while the rest of the guests went on foot. We

first drew up at New College (a strange name for such an old place, but

it was new some time since the Conquest), and went through its quiet and

sunny quadrangles, and into its sunny and shadowy gardens. I am in

despair about the architecture and old edifices of these Oxford colleges,

it is so impossible to express them in words. They are themselves--as

the architect left them, and as Time has modified and improved them--the

expression of an idea which does not admit of being otherwise expressed,

or translated into anything else. Those old battlemented walls around

the quadrangles; many gables; the windows with stone pavilions, so very

antique, yet some of them adorned with fresh flowers in pots,--a very

sweet contrast; the ivy mantling the gray stone; and the infinite repose,

both in sunshine and shadow,--it is as if half a dozen bygone centuries

had set up their rest here, and as if nothing of the present time ever

passed through the deeply recessed archway that shuts in the College from

the street. Not but what people have very free admittance; and many

parties of young men and girls and children came into the gardens while

we were there.

These gardens of New College are indescribably beautiful,--not gardens in

an American sense, but lawns of the richest green and softest velvet

grass, shadowed over by ancient trees, that have lived a quiet life here

for centuries, and have been nursed and tended with such care, and so

sheltered from rude winds, that certainly they must have been the

happiest of all trees. Such a sweet, quiet, sacred, stately seclusion--

so age-long as this has been, and, I hope, will continue to be--cannot

exist anywhere else. One side of the garden wall is formed by the

ancient wall of the city, which Cromwell's artillery battered, and which

still retains its pristine height and strength. At intervals, there are

round towers that formed the bastions; that is to say, on the exterior

they are round towers, but within, in the garden of the College, they are

semicircular recesses, with iron garden-seats arranged round them. The

loop-holes through which the archers and musketeers used to shoot still

pierce through deep recesses in the wall, which is here about six feet

thick. I wish I could put into one sentence the whole impression of this

garden, but it could not be done in many pages.

We looked also at the outside of the wall, and Mr. Parker, deeply skilled

in the antiquities of the spot, showed us a weed growing,--here in little

sprigs, there in large and heavy festoons,--hanging plentifully downward

from a shallow root. It is called the Oxford plant, being found only

here, and not easily, if at all, introduced anywhere else. It bears a

small and pretty blue flower, not altogether unlike the forget-me-not,

and we took some of it away with us for a memorial. We went into the

chapel of New College, which is in such fresh condition that I think it

must be modern; and yet this cannot be, since there are old brasses

inlaid into tombstones in the pavement, representing mediaeval

ecclesiastics and college dignitaries; and busts against the walls, in

antique garb; and old painted windows, unmistakable in their antiquity.

But there is likewise a window, lamentable to look at, which was painted

by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and exhibits strikingly the difference between

the work of a man who performed it merely as a matter of taste and

business, and what was done religiously and with the whole heart; at

least, it shows that the artists and public of the last age had no

sympathy with Gothic art. In the chancel of this church there are more

painted windows, which I take to be modern, too, though they are in much

better taste, and have an infinitely better effect, than Sir Joshua's.

At any rate, with the sunshine through them, they looked very beautiful,

and tinted the high altar and the pavement with brilliant lines.

The sacristan opened a tall and narrow little recess in the wall of the

chancel, and showed it entirely filled with the crosier of William of

Wickham. It appears to be made of silver gilt, and is a most rich and

elaborate relic, at least six feet high. Modern art cannot, or does not,

equal the chasing and carving of this splendid crosier, which is enriched

with figures of saints and, apostles, and various Gothic devices,--very

minute, but all executed as faithfully as if the artist's salvation had

depended upon every notch he made in the silver. . . .

Leaving New College, Bennoch and I, under Mr. Parker's guidance, walked

round Christ Church meadows, part of our way lying along the banks of the

Cherwell, which unites with the Isis to form the Thames, I believe. The

Cherwell is a narrow and remarkably sluggish stream; but is deep in

spots, and capriciously so,--so that a person may easily step from

knee-deep to fifteen feet in depth. A gentleman present used a queer

expression in reference to the drowning of two college men; he said "it

was an awkward affair." I think this is equal to Longfellow's story of

the Frenchman who avowed himself very much "displeased" at the news of

his father's death. At the confluence of the Cherwell and Isis we saw a

good many boats, belonging to the students of the various colleges; some

of them being very large and handsome barges, capable of accommodating a

numerous party, with room on board for dancing and merry-making. Some of

them are calculated to be drawn by horses, in the manner of canal-boats;

others are propellable by oars. It is practicable to perform the voyage

between Oxford and London--a distance of about one hundred and thirty

miles--in three days. The students of Oxford are famous boatmen; there

is a constant rivalship, on this score, among the different colleges; and

annually, I believe, there is a match between Oxford and Cambridge. The

Cambridge men beat the Oxonians in this year's trial.

On our return into the city, we passed through Christ Church, which, as

regards the number of students, is the most considerable college of the

University. It has a stately dome; but my memory is confused with

battlements, towers, and gables, and Gothic staircases and cloisters. If

there had been nothing else in Oxford but this one establishment, my

anticipations would not have been disappointed. The bell was tolling for

worship in the chapel; and Mr. Parker told us that Dr. Pusey is a canon,

or in some sort of dignity, in Christ Church, and would soon probably

make his appearance in the quadrangle, on his way to chapel; so we walked

to and fro, waiting an opportunity to see him. A gouty old dignitary, in

a white surplice, came hobbling along from one extremity of the court;

and by and by, from the opposite corner, appeared Dr. Pusey, also in a

white surplice, and with a lady by his side. We met him, and I stared

pretty fixedly at him, as I well might; for he looked on the ground, as

if conscious that he would be stared at. He is a man past middle life,

of sufficient breadth and massiveness, with a pale, intellectual, manly

face. He was talking with the lady, and smiled, but not jollily. Mr.

Parker, who knows him, says that he is a man of kind and gentle

affections. The lady was his niece.

Thence we went through High Street and Broad Street, and passing by

Baliol College,--a most satisfactory pile and range of old towered and

gabled edifices,--we came to the cross on the pavement, which is supposed

to mark the spot where the bishops were martyred. But Mr. Parker told us

the mortifying fact, that he had ascertained that this could not possibly

have been the genuine spot of martyrdom, which must have taken place at a

point within view, but considerably too far off to be moistened by any

tears that may be shed here. It is too bad. We concluded the rambles of

the day by visiting the gardens of St. John's College; and I desire, if

possible, to say even more in admiration of them than of those of New

College,--such beautiful lawns, with tall, ancient trees, and heavy

clouds of foliage, and sunny glimpses through archways of leafy branches,

where, to-day, we could see parties of girls, making cheerful contrast

with the sombre walls and solemn shade. The world, surely, has not

another place like Oxford; it is a despair to see such a place and ever

to leave it, for it would take a lifetime and more than one, to

comprehend and enjoy it satisfactorily.

At dinner, to-day, the golden vases were all ranged on the table, the

largest and central one containing a most magnificent bouquet of dahlias

and other bright-hued flowers.

On Tuesday, our first visit was to Christ Church, where we saw the large

and stately hall, above a hundred feet long by forty wide, and fifty to

the top of its carved oaken roof, which is ornamented with festoons, as

it were, and pendants of solid timber. The walls are panelled with oak,

perhaps half-way upward, and above are the rows of arched windows on each

side; but, near the upper end, two great windows come nearly to the

floor. There is a dais, where the great men of the College and the

distinguished guests sit at table, and the tables of the students are

arranged along the length of the hall. All around, looking down upon

those who sit at meat, are the portraits of a multitude of illustrious

personages who were members of the learned fraternity in times past; not

a portrait being admitted there (unless it he a king, and I remember only

Henry VIII.) save those who were actually students on the foundation,

receiving the eleemosynary aid of the College. Most of them were

divines; but there are likewise many statesmen, eminent during the last

three hundred years, and, among many earlier ones, the Marquis of

Wellesley and Canning. It is an excellent idea, for their own glory, and

as examples to the rising generations, to have this multitude of men, who

have done good and great things, before the eyes of those who ought to do

as well as they, in their own time. Archbishops, Prime Ministers, poets,

deep scholars,--but, doubtless, an outward success has generally been

their claim to this position, and Christ Church may have forgotten a

better man than the best of them. It is not, I think, the tendency of

English life, nor of the education of their colleges, to lead young men

to high moral excellence, but to aim at illustrating themselves in the

sight of mankind.

Thence we went into the kitchen, which is arranged very much as it was

three centuries ago, with two immense fireplaces. There was likewise a

gridiron, which, without any exaggeration, was large enough to have

served for the martyrdom of St. Lawrence. The college dinners are good,

but plain, and cost the students one shilling and eleven pence each,

being rather cheaper than a similar one could be had at an inn. There is

no provision for breakfast or supper in commons; but they can have these

meals sent to their rooms from the buttery, at a charge proportioned to

the dishes they order. There seems to be no necessity for a great

expenditure on the part of Oxford students.

From the kitchen we went to the chapel, which is the cathedral of Oxford,

and well worth seeing, if there had not been so many other things to see.

It is now under repair, and there was a great heap of old wood-work and

panelling lying in one of the aisles, which had been stripped away from

some of the ancient pillars, leaving them as good as new. There is a

shrine of a saint, with a wooden canopy over it; and some painted glass,

old and new; and a statue of Cyril Jackson, with a face of shrewdness and

insight; and busts, as mural monuments.