There are some things like a spider, a ghost.
The income tax, the gout, an umbrella for three.
That I hate, but the thing I hate the most,
Is a thing they call the sea.
Pour some salt water over the floor.
Ugly I'm sure you'll allow that to be,
Suppose it extended a mile or more,
That would be like the sea.
Beat a dog till it howls outright--
Cruel, but all very well for a spree;
Suppose it did so day and night,
That would be like the sea.
I had a vision of nursery maids,
Tens of thousands passed by me,
Each carrying children with wooden spades,
And that was by the sea.
Who could have invented those spades of wood?
Who was it that cut them out of the tree?
None, I think, but an idiot could--
Or one who loved the sea.
It is pleasant and dreamy, no doubt to float
With thoughts as boundless and souls as free,
But suppose you are very unwell in the boat--
Then how do you like the sea?
Would you like coffee with sand for dregs?
A decided hint of salt in your tea?
And a fishy taste in the very eggs?
Then by all means choose the sea.
And if with such dainties to drink and eat
You prefer not a vestige of grass or a tree,
And a chronic condition of wet in your feet,
Then--I recommend the sea.
There is an animal people avoid.
Whence is derived the verb to flee,
Where have you been by it most annoyed?
In lodgings by the sea.
Once I met with a friend in the street,
With wife and nurse and children three;
Never again such a sight may I meet,
As that party from the sea.
Their looks were sullen, their steps were slow,
Convicted felons they seemed to be,--
"Are you going to prison, dear friend?"--"Oh no;
We're returning from the sea!"
[Illustration: GUY FAWKES'S LANTERN.]
Every college had some legend or story connected with it, and University
College claimed to have been founded by King Alfred the Great, but this
is considered a myth; King Alfred's jewel, however, a fine specimen of
Saxon work in gold and crystal, found in the Isle of Athelney, was still
preserved in Oxford. Guy Fawkes's lantern and the sword given to Henry
VIII as Defender of the Faith were amongst the curios in the Bodleian
Library, but afterwards transferred to the Ashmolean Museum, which
claimed to be the earliest public collection of curiosities in England,
the first contributions made to it having been given in 1682 by Elias
Ashmole, of whom we had heard when passing through Lichfield. In the
eighteenth century there was a tutor named Scott who delivered a series
of lectures on Ancient History, which were considered to be the finest
ever known, but he could never be induced to publish them. In one of his
lectures he wished to explain that the Greeks had no chimneys to their
houses, and created much amusement by explaining it in his scholarly and
roundabout fashion: "The Greeks had no convenience by which the volatile
parts of fire could be conveyed into the open air." This tutor was a
friend of the great Dr. Johnson, and seemed to have been quite an
original character, for when his brother, John Scott, who was one of his
own pupils, came up for examination for his degree in Hebrew and
History, the only questions he put to him were, "What is the Hebrew for
skull?" to which John promptly replied "Golgotha," and "Who founded
University College?" to which his reply was "King Alfred!" Both the
brothers were very clever men, and the tutor developed into Lord
Stowell, while the pupil was created Lord Eldon.
[Illustration: THE QUADRANGLE, JESUS COLLEGE.]
Jesus, the Welsh College, possessed an enormous silver punch-bowl, 5
feet 2 inches in girth, which was presented in 1732 by the great Sir
Watkin Williams-Wynn, who was known as the King _in_ Wales. Over his
great kitchen mantelpiece there he had the words "Waste not, want not,"
a motto which did not appear to apply to the punchbowl, for the
conditions attached to it were that it was to become the property of him
who could span it with his arms and then drain the bowl empty after it
had been filled with strong punch. The first condition had been complied
with, and the second no doubt had been often attempted, but no one had
yet appeared who had a head strong enough to drain the bowl without
assistance, so it still remained the property of the College!
[Illustration: "MAY MORNING": THE CHOIR ON THE TOWER.]
Magdalen College--or Maudlen, as they pronounced it at Oxford--as easily
distinguished from the others by its fine tower, rising to the height of
145 feet, the building of which dates from the end of the fifteenth
century. We took a greater interest in that college because the rector
of Grappenhall in Cheshire, where we were born, had been educated there.
An ancient May-day custom is still observed by the college, called the
"Magdalen Grace" or the "May Morning Hymn," this very old custom having
been retained at Magdalen long after others disappeared. On May-day
morning the choristers ascend to the top of the great tower and enter
the portion railed off for them and other men who join in the singing,
while the remainder of the space is reserved for members of the
University, and other privileged persons admitted by ticket. They wait
until the bell has sounded the last stroke of five o'clock, and then
sing in Latin that fine old hymn to the Trinity, beginning with the
words:
Te Deum patrem colimus.
My brother, however, was sure our rector could never have sung that
hymn, since in cases of emergency he always appealed to him to start the
singing in the Sunday school--for although a very worthy man in other
respects, he was decidedly not musical.
Among the great Magdalen men of the past are the names of Cardinal
Wolsey, Cardinal Reginald Pole, Addison, Gibbon, Collins, Wilson, John
Hampden, and John Foxe, author of the _Book of Martyrs_. The
ecclesiastical students included two cardinals, four archbishops, and
about forty bishops; and my brother would have added to the Roll of
Honour the name of our rector, the Rev. Thomas Greenall, as that of a
man who conscientiously tried to do his duty and whom he held in lasting
remembrance.
[Illustration: AN OXFORDSHIRE FARM.]
There was a kind of haze hanging over Oxford, which gave me the
impression that the atmosphere of the neighbourhood was rather damp,
though my brother tried to persuade me it was the mist of antiquity; but
when I found the rivers Thames (or Isis) and the Cherwell encircled the
city on three sides, and that its name was derived from a passage over
which oxen could cross the water, and when I saw the stiff clay of the
brickfields, I was confirmed in my opinion.
[Illustration: HINKSEY STREAM.]
As early as the year 726 a prince named Didan settled at Oxford, and his
wife Saxfrida built a nunnery there for her daughter Frideswyde, so that
she could "take the veil" in her own church. As she was considered the
"flower of all these parts," we could not understand why this was
necessary, especially as she was sought in marriage by Algar, King of
Leicester, described as "a young and spritely prince," and who was so
persistent that he would not accept her refusal, actually sending
"ambassadors" to carry her away. These men, however, when they
approached her were smitten with blindness; and when Frideswyde saw that
she would not be safe in "her own church" nor able to remain in peace
there, she fled into the woods and hid herself in a place that had been
made as a shelter for the swine. King Algar was greatly enraged, and,
breathing out fire and sword, set out for Oxford. As he still pursued
her, he too was smitten with blindness; and she then returned, but did
not live long, as she died in 739. St. Frideswide's Chapel was said to
have been built over her shrine, around which Oxford, the "City of the
Spires," had extended to its present proportions.
Oxford is also mentioned in A.D. 912 in the _Saxon Chronicle_, and
Richard Coeur de Lion, the great Crusader, was born there in 1156, and
often made it his home. The city was besieged on three different
occasions--by Sweyne, the King of Denmark, in 1013, by William the
Conqueror in 1067, and by Fairfax in 1646--for it was one of the King's
great strongholds.