OF THINGS AT OXFORD.
'Twas a stirring time at Oxford when I first began my residence in the
University. The King had there his headquarters, and there was scarce
a day but messengers came bearing news, good or bad, of the war that
was being carried forward in every part of England. Also a Parliament
sat--I speak now of the first year of my residence, that is to say
from October, 1643, to the same month of the year following--at which
were present some hundred and fifty, reckoning both Commoners and
Peers. But of these matters I shall say more hereafter; at the present
I will speak rather of things concerning my own College.
Lincoln College is a fair building, of an honourable antiquity, there
being six Colleges only that are older than it and ten that are of
newer date, but it has only a poor estate, its first founder having
died before he could fulfil his purpose, and other benefactors, for
such have not been wanting to us, not wholly making good his unwilling
defect. Its chief ornament is the chapel, which is in the Gothic style
(a style, in my judgment, much to be preferred to the Italian novelty
which many in these days prefer), fairly lined with cedar, and
illustrated with windows most handsomely painted. These windows were
brought from Italy at the instance of the builder, Dr. Williams,
sometime Bishop of Lincoln and Lord Keeper, whose liberality in this
matter is the more to be commended because he is not even of this
University, but visitor only of the College in right of his bishopric.
My chamber was under the roof at the top of the chapel staircase, and
had a fair prospect of the church of All Saints, which, in a sort,
belongs to the College, and of that part of the town which lies toward
the river.
On the first day of November, being All Saints' Day, we--that is to
say, all the members of the College then residing, from the Rector to
the Clerks--walked in solemn procession to this church, where prayers
were said, and a sermon preached by Master Richard Chalfont, the
Sub-Rector, the Rector, to whom the duty of this discourse more
properly belongs, pleading inability by reason of illness; but 'tis
thought that 'twas an excuse rather than a reason, and that, being a
prudent man, as was most abundantly proved by his keeping his
preferment through all the changes of the times, he chose rather to be
silent in so critical a juncture of affairs. We looked for a discourse
on political matters from Master Chalfont, who was very hot for the
King; but he preached on no such subject, but on the pleasures which
shall be enjoyed in heaven. Some thought the theme ill-chosen, but
others, to whose opinion I incline, greatly commended this choice,
saying that of politics we hear enough, and more than enough, in the
market-place, and that higher things are more befitting the sanctuary.
'Twas a most academical discourse. I remember he told us that we
should there, among other good things, find repaired all damages that
time or accident has made in the remains of antiquity, reading, for
example, the comedies of Eupolis, a contemporary, but elder, of
Aristophanes, which have been most lamentably lost, and such books of
Livy and Tacitus as are wanting to the manuscripts, and solving also
problems of geometry and algebra which are beyond our present skill. I
thought that many of the auditors listened to these prognostications
with blank faces, as thinking, doubtless, that they had here upon
earth more than a sufficiency of such things.
The day was kept as a high day in the College, provision beyond the
ordinary being made both for dinner and supper in the hall. There was
no lack of jollity, though I heard some complain, in a doubtful
manner, of the change which had been wrought since the last Gaudy (for
such is the name, being short for _gaudeamus_, which they give to
this festivity) was held. Then there had been a goodly show of plate,
none drinking save out of silver; but this was now all gone, being
melted down for the pay of his Majesty's soldiers, and our cups were
of earthenware.
On Shrove Tuesday, which, in the year 1644 (to which I am now come),
fell on the second day of March, there was held what, if I may borrow
a word from a venerable custom of antiquity, may be styled the
initiation of the Freshmen. The fire in the hall was made earlier than
ordinary; the Fellows also went to supper before six, and made an end
sooner than at other times, so leaving the hall to the liberty of the
undergraduates, but not without an admonitory hint given by the
Sub-Rector, as having charge of the discipline of the College that all
things should be carried on in good order. While they were at supper
in the hall, the cook was making hot caudle at the charge of the
Freshmen, who, I should have said, are all that have come into the
University since the Shrove Tuesday last before. (Caudle, I should
say, for the sake of those that are not learned in such matters, is a
drink made of oatmeal flour, mixed in water, with sherry wine.) This
being ready, and all the undergraduates and servants being assembled
in the hall, each Freshman, in his turn, according to his seniority,
was constrained to make a speech, but not without preparation, for
notice was given that it would be required of him on Candlemas Day.
First, he plucked off his gown and bands, and made himself look as
like a low fellow as he could; some, I must needs confess, acquitting
themselves in this respect with much success. This done, he made his
speech, being placed on a form, which was set on the high table,
touching with such wit as he was master of on the persons and
characters of his brother Freshmen and on the servants of the College,
the latter more especially, being a game at which the very feeblest
hawks could fly. If he did well, speaking in an audible voice, and
with a good fluency of words and passable matter, there was given him
a cup of caudle, and no salted drink; if he did indifferently, neither
ill nor well, some caudle and some salted drink; but if he was dull,
or halted in his speech, then he had nothing but salted drink; that is
to say, beer, with salt therein, and tucks[1] to boot. This done, the
senior cook administered to him an oath, which began thus: "Item tu
jurabis, quod _penniless bench_ non visitabis," but the rest I forget.
As for "penniless bench," 'tis a seat by St. Martin's Church (which is
called also Carfax), where the hucksters and butter-women sit. This
oath each Freshman took over an old shoe, which when he had kissed
with due solemnity, he put on again his gown and bands, and was duly
admitted into the worshipful company of seniors. This was doubtless
but foolish work, though I doubt me much whether now, when we are so
far wiser that all such festivities are forbidden, we be much better.
I trust, at the least, that none will think the worse of me if I boast
that I did my fooling so graciously that the cup that was given to me
was of caudle only, and no admixture of salt.
[1] A "tuck" was a pinch, given with finger and thumb under
the lip, and sometimes drawing blood.
Such sportiveness is to be looked for in the young; and, indeed, did
their gay temper and light heart lead them no further than into such
diversions, there were small cause for blame; it may be alleged also,
there was something academical, though turned to purposes of mirth, in
these our enforced disputings. So much may not be said of all the
sports to which the younger sort were addicted. Some were given to the
fighting of cocks, a barbarous thing in my judgment, though long
custom has appropriated it to the last day before Lent, so that some
would think the world itself shaken in its foundations were this
absent; but, be it good or bad, 'twill be acknowledged that 'tis not a
seemly thing for the quadrangle of a College, where I have seen it
practised, and that not once or twice only. The baiting of badgers
also with terrier dogs was much followed. As for hunting the fox, it
was interrupted by the war; for who could follow the chase when he was
like to find the King's men in one village and the Parliament's
soldiers in the next? So the war brought peace, I may say, to the
foxes; but the hares and partridges had little rest, for the disturbed
times gave excuse to many for carrying fire-arms, which they could
use, as occasion served, for their own purposes. But who could know
whether a musket were loaded with a bullet that might kill a man, or
with small shot that might bring down a beast or a bird? And if 'twas
a bullet that it bore, what was to hinder it being used against a fat
hart or a roebuck? The keepers of game had, I take it, an ill time in
these days; indeed, their occupation was in many places wholly given
up. And if such abuses have commonly been found among the scholars of
the University, now they prevailed tenfold more. But of this more in
its proper place.
But what shall be said of the seniors, the Masters of Arts. Before I
came to Oxford I had thought, in my simplicity, that these were all
grave and reverend persons, given to books and study, that, as our new
poet, Master John Milton, has it, did "out watch the Bear;" but I soon
learnt to think otherwise; and here I will take leave to tell a true
tale, from which may be seen how some of these reverend seniors did
demean themselves. But that there were grave and pious men even in the
worst times I shall not deny.
There was in the College a certain Master of Arts, by name Thomas
Smith, a violent person, who had been admonished and punished for
diverse offences and disorders, of which it was counted not the least
heinous that he kept dogs in his chamber, and would neither remove
them nor himself when warned by the Rector so to do. Master Smith had
a quarrel, in which private enmity was doubtless aggravated by public
differences, with another Master of Arts, also dwelling in the
College, by name Nicholas North, and a minister. They had had diverse
fallings out in time past, but the gravest of all, by reason of which
Master Smith came near to being expelled from the College (and
doubtless had been so but for the favour of some Fellows that were of
his way of thinking in matters of Church and State), was this. It will
be best told in their own words, as I afterwards found it written
down; and first for Master North's account:
"On Monday night, immediately after I had supped in the buttery, going
in the new quadrangle, I heard a door shut, and thinking it had been
mine, said to him that came forth, 'Who is there?' Master Smith
answered, 'Who are you that examine me?' I replied, 'I do not examine
you.' He said, 'You are a base rogue for examining me.' When I heard
him say so, fearing he would fall upon me, I hasted with all the speed
I could to my chamber; but, as I opened the door, Master Smith caught
hold of my gown and said, 'Sirrah! Come out; you are a base rogue for
examining me!' Said I, 'You cannot prove me such. I pray you let me
go; I have nought to say to you.' 'Ay,' said he, 'but I have something
to say to you;' and taking me by the ear and hair of the head with one
hand, he plucked out a cudgel that was under his gown, and making into
the chamber upon me, struck me with the cudgel upon the head. About
the third blow it broke in two. After that he struck me half-a-dozen
blows with that piece he had in his hand, and when I wrested this out
of his hand he laid me about the face with his fist. There being two
in my chamber, I asked them whether they were not ashamed to see me
beaten in my own chamber, and would not call company to take him off.
After a while came Master Chalfont[2] running in and took him off from
me, and three several times did Master Smith call me 'base rogue' and
run in upon me, and was taken off three times by Master Chalfont; and
when I entreated him to go out of my chamber he called me a base,
inferior rogue, and would not go out till he had every piece of his
stick."
[2] This Richard Chalfont was expelled in the year 1648. He
was minister to the company of English Merchants in
Rotterdam.
Now for Master Smith's story:
"Coming out of my chamber on Monday night, about seven of the clock, I
met Master North coming forth from his chamber. He said, 'What are
you, sir?' I answered, 'What is that to you?' He drew me to his
chamber door. I asked him why he used me so. He said that I had taken
something out of his chamber. I told him that he was an unworthy man,
and I would make him know himself; and Master North being within his
chamber, dared me to fall on him, saying 'Strike me if thou durst!'
Then I perceived a bed-staff in his gown sleeve, he holding the little
end in his hand and the great end downwards. Thereupon, having a stick
in my hand, I struck at him, and hitting him on the top of the head,
broke the stick in pieces."
Here Master Smith was questioned how he came to have a stick, which it
is against rule and custom to carry. He said, "I was newly come out of
town from the company of some friends, and by the way was jostled from
the walk by two scholars, and having shortly to return, not knowing
whether I might be abused again, took the stick under my gown."
Further, in answer to Master North, he said, "I do not absolutely know
whether I did after strike him in his chamber, but might have so done,
partly by heat of passion and ill-language that was given me, and
partly defending myself."
There was no small discussion about this matter, but in the end Master
Smith was commanded to pay ten pounds to Master North for the wrong
done to him (of which sum Master North was persuaded to abate a third
part), and to make a public submission and acknowledgment in the
chapel in the face of all the society assembled. And these two things
he did.
Such were the manners of the time, and afterwards, as will be seen,
they grew worse rather than better.