HIGH TORY OXFORD
THE name of her late Majesty Queen Anne has for some little time been a
kind of party watch-word. Many harmless people have an innocent loyalty
to this lady, make themselves her knights (as Mary Antoinette has still
her sworn champions in France and Mary Stuart in Scotland), buy the plate
of her serene period, and imitate the dress. To many moral critics in
the press, however, Queen Anne is a kind of abomination. I know not how
it is, but the terms ‘Queen Anne furniture and blue china’ have become
words of almost slanderous railing. Any didactic journalist who uses
them is certain at once to fall heavily on the artistic reputation of Mr.
Burne Jones, to rebuke the philosophy of Mr. Pater, and to hint that the
entrance-hall of the Grosvenor Gallery is that ‘by-way’ with which Bunyan
has made us familiar. In the changes of things our admiration of the
Augustan age of our literature, the age of Addison and Steele, of
Marlborough and Aldrich, has become a sort of reproach. It may be that
our modern preachers know but little of that which they traduce. At all
events, the Oxford of Queen Anne’s time was not what they call
‘un-English,’ but highly conservative, and as dull and beer-bemused as
the most manly taste could wish it to be.
The _Spectator_ of the ingenious Sir Richard Steele gives us many a
glimpse of non-juring Oxford. The old fashion of Sanctity (Mr. Addison
says, in the _Spectator_, No. 494) had passed away; nor were appearances
of Mirth and Pleasure looked upon as the Marks of a Carnal Mind. Yet the
Puritan Rule was not so far forgotten, but that Mr. Anthony Henley (a
Gentleman of Property) could remember how he had stood for a Fellowship
in a certain College whereof a great Independent Minister was Governor.
As Oxford at this Moment is much vexed in her Mind about Examinations,
wherein, indeed, her whole Force is presently expended, I make no scruple
to repeat the account of Mr. Henley’s Adventure:
‘The Youth, according to Custom, waited on the Governor of his
College, to be examined. He was received at the Door by a Servant,
who was one of that gloomy Generation that were then in Fashion. He
conducted him with great Silence and Seriousness to a long Gallery
which was darkened at Noon-day, and had only a single Candle burning
in it. After a short stay in this melancholy Apartment, he was led
into a Chamber hung with black, where he entertained himself for some
time by the glimmering of a Taper, till at length the Head of the
College came out to him from an inner Room, with half a dozen Night
Caps upon his Head, and a religious Horror in his Countenance. The
Young Man trembled; but his Fears increased when, instead of being
asked what progress he had made in Learning, he was ask’d “how he
abounded in Grace?” His _Latin_ and _Greek_ stood him in little
stead. He was to give an account only of the state of his
Soul—whether he was of the Number of the Elect; what was the Occasion
of his Conversion; upon what Day of the Month and Hour of the Day it
happened; how it was carried on, and when completed. The whole
Examination was summed up in one short Question, namely, _Whether he
was prepared for Death_? The Boy, who had been bred up by honest
Parents, was frighted out of his wits by the solemnity of the
Proceeding, and by the last dreadful Interrogatory, so that, upon
making his Escape out of this House of Mourning, he could never be
brought a second Time to the Examination, as not being able to go
through the Terrors of it.’
By the year 1705, when Tom Hearne, of St. Edmund’s Hall, began to keep
his diary, the ‘honest folk’—that is, the High Churchmen—had the better
of the Independent Ministers. The Dissenters had some favour at Court,
but in the University they were looked upon as utterly reprobate. From
the _Reliquiæ_ of Hearne (an antiquarian successor of Antony Wood, a
_bibliophile_, an archæologist, and as honest a man as Jacobitism could
make him) let us quote an example of Heaven’s wrath against Dissenters:
‘_Aug._ 6, 1706. We have an account from Whitchurch, in Shropshire,
that the Dissenters there having prepared a great quantity of bricks
to erect a spacious conventicle, a destroying angel came by night and
spoiled them all, and confounded their Babel in the beginning, to
their great mortification.’
Hearne’s common-place books are an amusing source of information about
Oxford society in the years of Queen Anne, and of the Hanoverian usurper.
Tom Hearne was a Master of Arts of St. Edmund’s Hall, and at one time
Deputy-Librarian of the Bodleian. He lost this post because he would not
take ‘the wicked oaths’ required of him, but he did not therefore leave
Oxford. His working hours were passed in preparing editions of
antiquarian books, to be printed in very limited number, on ordinary and
LARGE PAPER. It was the joy of Tom’s existence to see his editions
become first scarce, then VERY SCARCE, while the price augmented in
proportion to the rarity. When he was not reading in his rooms he was
taking long walks in the country, tracing Roman walls and roads, and
exploring Woodstock Park for the remains of ‘the labyrinth,’ as he calls
the Maze of Fair Rosamund. In these strolls he was sometimes accompanied
by undergraduates, even gentlemen of noble family, ‘which gave cause to
some to envy our happiness.’ Hearne was a social creature, and had a
heart, as he shows by the entry about the death of his ‘very dear friend,
Mr. Thomas Cherry, A.M., to the great grief of all that knew him, being a
gentleman of great beauty, singular modesty, of wonderful good nature,
and most excellent principles.’
The friends of Hearne were chiefly, perhaps solely, what he calls ‘honest
men,’ supporters of the Stuart family, and always ready to drink his
Majesty’s (King James’) health. They would meet in ‘Antiquity Hall,’ an
old house near Wadham, and smoke their honest pipes. They held certain
of the opinions of ‘the Hebdomadal Meeting,’ satirised by Steele in the
_Spectator_ (No. 43). ‘We are much offended at the Act for importing
_French_ wines. A bottle or two of good solid Edifying Port, at honest
_George’s_, made a Night cheerful, and threw off Reserve. But this
plaguy _French_ Claret will not only cost us more Money but do us less
good.’ Hearne had a poor opinion of ‘Captain Steele,’ and of ‘one
Tickle: this Tickle is a pretender to poetry.’ He admits that, though
‘Queen’s people are angry at the _Spectator_, and the common-room say
’tis silly dull stuff, men that are indifferent commend it highly, as it
deserves.’ Some other satirist had a plate etched, representing
Antiquity Hall—a caricature of Tom’s antiquarian engravings. It may be
seen in Skelton’s book.
Thanks to Hearne, it is easy to reproduce the common-room gossip, and the
more treasonable talk of honest men at Antiquity Hall. The learned were
much interested, as they usually are at Oxford, in theological
discussion. Some one proved, by an ingenious syllogism, that all men are
to be saved; but Hearne had the better of this Latitudinarian, easily
demonstrating that the comfortable argument does not meet the case of
madmen, and of deaf-mutes, whom Tom did not expect to meet in a future
state. The ingenious, though depressing speculations of Mr. Dodwell were
also discussed: ‘He makes the air the receptacle of all souls, good and
bad, and that they are under the power of the D—l, he being prince of the
air.’ ‘The less perfectly good’ hang out, if we may say so, ‘in the
space between earth and the clouds,’ all which is subtle, and creditable
to Mr. Dodwell’s invention, but not susceptible of exact demonstration.
The whole controversy is an interesting specimen of Queen Anne
philosophy, which, with all respect for the taste of the period, we need
not wish to see revived. The Bishop of Worcester, for example, ‘expects
the end of the world about nine years hence.’ While the theology of
Oxford is being mentioned, the zeal of Dr. Miller, Regius Professor of
Greek, must not be forgotten. The learned Professor endeavoured to
convert, and even ‘writ a Letter to Mrs. Bracegirdle, giving her great
encomiums (as having himself been often to see plays acted whilst they
continued here) upon account of her excellent qualifications, and
persuading her to give over this loose way of living, and betake herself
to such a kind of life as was more innocent, and would gain her more
credit.’ The Professor’s advice was wasted on ‘Bracegirdle the brown.’
Politics were naturally much discussed in these doubtful years, when the
Stuarts, it was thought, had still a chance to win their own again. In
1706, Tom says, ‘The great health now is “The Cube of Three,” which is
the number 27, i.e. the number of the protesting Lords.’ The University
was most devoted, as far as drinking toasts constitutes loyalty. In
Hearne’s common-place book is carefully copied out this ‘Scotch Health to
K. J.’:
‘He’s o’er the seas and far awa’,
He’s o’er the seas and far awa’;
Altho’ his back be at the wa’
We’ll drink his health that’s far awa’.’
The words live, and ring strangely out of that dusty past. The song
survives the throne, and sounds pathetically, somehow, as one has heard
it chanted, in days as dead as the year 1711, at suppers that seem as
ancient almost as the festivities of Thomas Hearne. It is not unpleasant
to remember that the people who sang could also fight, and spilt their
blood as well as their ‘edifying port.’ If the Southern ‘honest men’ had
possessed hearts for anything but tippling, the history of England would
have been different.
When ‘the allyes and the French fought a bloudy battle near Mons’ (1709,
‘Malplaquet’), the Oxford honest men, like Colonel Henry Esmond, thought
‘there was not any the least reason of bragging.’ The young King of
England, under the character of the Chevalier St. George, ‘shewed
abundance of undaunted courage and resolution, led up his troups with
unspeakable bravery, appeared in the utmost dangers, and at last was
wounded.’ Marlborough’s victories were sneered at, his new palace of
Blenheim was said to be not only ill-built, but haunted by signs of evil
omen.
It was not always safe to say what one thought about politics at Oxford.
One Mr. A. going to one Mr. Tonson, a barber, put the barber and his wife
in a ferment (they being rascally Whigs) by maintaining that the
hereditary right was in the P. of W. Tonson laid information against the
gentleman; ‘which may be a warning to honest men not to enter into
topicks of this nature with barbers.’ One would not willingly, even now,
discuss the foreign policy of her Majesty’s Ministers with the person who
shaves one. There are opportunities and temptations to which no decent
person should be wantonly exposed. The bad effect of Whiggery on the
temper was evident in this, that ‘the Mohocks are all of the Whiggish
gang, and indeed all Whigs are looked upon as such Mohocks, their
principles and doctrines leading thus to all manner of barbarity and
inhumanity.’ So true is it that Conservatives are all lovers of peace
and quiet, that (May 29th, 1715) ‘last night a good part of the
Presbyterian meeting-house in Oxford was pulled down. The people ran up
and down the streets, crying, _King James the Third_! _The true king_!
_No Usurper_. In the evening they pulled a good part of the Quakers’ and
Anabaptists’ meeting-houses down. The heads of houses have represented
that it was begun by the Whiggs.’ Probably the heads of houses reasoned
on _à priori_ principles when they arrived at this remarkable conclusion.
[Picture: The Cottages, Trinity College]
In consequence of the honesty, frankness, and consistency of his
opinions, Mr. Hearne ran his head in danger when King George came to the
throne, which has ever since been happily settled in the possession of
the Hanoverian line. A Mr. Urry, a Non-juror, had to warn him, saying,
‘Do you not know that they have a mind to hang you if they can, and that
you have many enemies who are very ready to do it?’ In spite of this,
Hearne, in his diaries, still calls George I. the Duke of Brunswick, and
the Whigs, ‘that fanatical crew.’ John, Duke of Marlborough, he styles
‘that villain the Duke.’ We have had enough, perhaps, of Oxford
politics, which were not much more prejudiced in the days of the Duke
than in those of Mr. Gladstone. Hearne’s allusions to the contemporary
state of buildings and of college manners are often rather instructive.
In All Souls the Whigs had a feast on the day of King Charles’s
martyrdom. They had a dinner dressed of woodcock, ‘whose heads they cut
off, in contempt of the memory of the blessed martyr.’ These men were
‘low Churchmen, more shame to them.’ The All Souls men had already given
up the custom of wandering about the College on the night of January
14th, with sticks and poles, in quest of the mallard. That ‘swopping’
bird, still justly respected, was thought, for many ages, to linger in
the college of which he is the protector. But now all hope of recovering
him alive is lost, and it is reserved for the excavator of the future to
marvel over the fossil bones of the ‘swopping, swopping mallard.’
As an example of the paganism of Queen Anne’s reign—quite a different
thing from the ‘Neo-paganism’ which now causes so much anxiety to the
moral press-man—let us note the affecting instance of Geffery Ammon. ‘He
was a merry companion, and his conversation was much courted.’ Geffery
had but little sense of religion. He is now buried on the west side of
Binsey churchyard, near St. Margaret’s well. Geffery selected Binsey for
the place of his sepulchre, because he was partial to the spot, having
often shot snipe there. In order to moisten his clay, he desired his
friend Will Gardner, a boatman of Oxford, who was accustomed to row him
down the river, to put now and then a bottle of ale by his grave when he
came that way; an injunction which was punctually complied with.
Oxford lost in Hearne’s time many of her old buildings. It is said, with
a dreadful appearance of truth, that Oxford is now to lose some of the
few that are left. Corpus and Merton, if they are not belied, mean to
pull down the old houses opposite Merton, halls and houses consecrated to
the memory of Antony Wood, and to build lecture-rooms _and houses for
married dons_ on the site. The topic, for one who is especially bound to
pray for Merton (and who now does so with unusual fervour), is most
painful. A view of the ‘proposed new buildings,’ in the Exhibition of
the Royal Academy (1879), depresses the soul. In the same spirit Hearne
says (March 28th, 1671), ‘It always grieves me when I go through Queen’s
College, to see the ruins of the old chapell next to High Street, the
area of which now lies open (the building being most of it pulled down)
and trampled upon by dogs, etc., as if the ground had never been
consecrated. Nor do the Queen’s Coll. people take any care, but rather
laught at it when ’tis mentioned.’ In 1722 ‘the famous postern-gate
called the _Turl_ Gate’ (a corruption for _Thorold_ Gate) was ‘pulled
down by one Dr. Walker, who lived by it, and pretended that it was a
detriment to his house. As long ago as 1705, they had pulled down the
building of Peckwater quadrangle, in Ch. Ch.’ Queen’s also ‘pulled down
the old refectory, which was on the west side of the old quadrangle, and
was a fine old structure that I used to admire much.’ It appears that
the College was also anxious to pull down the chamber of King Henry V.
This is a strange craze for destruction, that some time ago endangered
the beautiful library of Merton, a place where one can fancy that Chaucer
or Wyclif may have studied. Oxford will soon have little left of the
beauty and antiquity of _Patey’s Quad_ in Merton, as represented in our
illustration. What the next generation will think of the multitudinous
new buildings, it is not hard to conjecture. Imitative experiments,
without style or fancy in structure or decoration, and often more than
medievally uncomfortable, they will seem but evidences of Oxford’s love
of destruction. People of Hearne’s way of thinking, people who respect
antiquity, protest in vain, and, like Hearne, must be content sadly to
enjoy what is left of grace and dignity. He died before Oxford had quite
become the Oxford of Gibbon’s autobiography.