corresponding contempt of all other professions whatsoever _paid
by fellow-citizens_, and not by the king or the state. The clerical
profession is in the most abject degradation throughout Southern
Germany; and the reason why this forces itself less imperiously upon
the public notice is, that, in rural situations, from the absence of a
resident gentry (speaking generally), the pastor is brought into rare
collision with those who style themselves _noble_; whilst, in towns, the
clergy find people enough to countenance those who, being in the same
circumstances as to comfort and liberal education, are also under the
same ban of rejection from the "nobility," or born gentry. The legal
profession is equally degraded; even a barrister or advocate holds a
place in the public esteem little differing from that of an Old Bailey
attorney of the worst class. And this result is the less liable to
modification from personal qualities, inasmuch as there is no great
theatre (as with us) for individual display. Forensic eloquence is
unknown in Germany, as it is too generally on the continent, from
the defect of all popular or open judicatures. A similar defect of
deliberative assemblies--such, at least, as represent any popular
influences and debate with open doors--intercepts the very possibility
of senatorial eloquence. [Footnote: The subject is amusingly illustrated
by an anecdote of Goethe, recorded by himself in his autobiography. Some
physiognomist, or phrenologist, had found out, in Goethe's structure
of head, the sure promise of a great orator. "Strange infatuation of
nature!" observes Goethe, on this assurance, "to endow me so richly and
liberally for that particular destination which only the institutions of
my country render impossible. Music for the deaf! Eloquence without an
audience!"] That of the pulpit only remains. But even of this--whether
it be from want of the excitement and contagious emulation from the
other fields of oratory, or from the peculiar genius of Lutheranism--no
models have yet arisen that could, for one moment, sustain a comparison
with those of England or France. The highest names in this department
would not, to a foreign ear, carry with them any of that significance or
promise which surrounds the names of Jeremy Taylor or Barrow, Bossuet or
Bourdaloue, to those even who have no personal acquaintance with their
works. This absence of all fields for gathering public distinctions
cooperates, in a very powerful way, with the contempt of the born
gentry, to degrade these professions; and this double agency is, a third
time, reinforced by those political arrangements which deny every form
of state honor or conspicuous promotion to the very highest description
of excellence, whether of the bar, the pulpit, or the civic council.
Not "the fluent Murray," or the accomplished Erskine, from the English
bar--not Pericles or Demosthenes, from the fierce democracies of
Greece--not Paul preaching at Athens--could snatch a wreath from public
homage, nor a distinction from the state, nor found an influence, nor
leave behind them an operative model, in Germany, as now constituted.
Other walks of emolument are still more despised. Alfieri, a continental
"noble," that is, a born gentleman, speaks of bankers as we in England
should of a Jewish usurer, or tricking money-changer. The liberal
trades, such as those which minister to literature or the fine arts,
which, with us, confer the station of gentleman upon those who exercise
them, are, in the estimate of a continental "noble," fitted to assign a
certain rank or place in the train and equipage of a gentleman, but
not to entitle their most eminent professors to sit down, except by
sufferance, in his presence. And, upon this point, let not the reader
derive his notions from the German books: the vast majority of German
authors are not "noble;" and, of those who are, nine tenths are liberal
in this respect, and speak the language of liberality, not by sympathy
with their own order, or as representing _their_ feelings, but in virtue
of democratic or revolutionary politics.
Such as the rank is, and the public estimation of the leading
professions, such is the natural condition of the universities which
rear them. The "nobles" going generally into the army, or leading lives
of indolence, the majority by far of those who resort to universities do
so as a means of future livelihood. Few seek an academic life in Germany
who have either money to throw away on superfluities and external show,
or who have such a rank to support as might stimulate their pride to
expenses beyond their means. Parsimony is, therefore, in these places,
the governing law; and pleasure, not less fervently wooed than at
Oxford or at Cambridge, putting off her robes of elegance and ceremony,
descends to grossness, and not seldom to abject brutality.
The sum of my argument is--that, because, in comparison of the army, no
other civil profession is, in itself, held of sufficient dignity; and
not less, perhaps, because, under governments essentially unpopular,
none of these professions has been so dignified artificially by the
state, or so attached to any ulterior promotion, either through
the state or in the state, as to meet the demands of aristocratic
pride--none of them is cultivated as a means of distinction, but
originally as a means of livelihood; that the universities, as the
nurseries of these unhonored professions, share naturally in _their_
degradation; and that, from this double depreciation of the place and
its final objects, few or none resort thither who can be supposed
to bring any extra funds for supporting a system of luxury; that the
general temperance, or sobriety of demeanor, is far enough, however,
from keeping pace with the absence of costly show; and that, for this
absence even, we are to thank their poverty rather than their will. It
is to the great honor, in my opinion, of our own country, that
those often resort to her fountains who have no motive but that of
disinterested reverence for knowledge; seeking, as all men perceive,
neither emolument directly from university funds, nor knowledge as the
means of emolument. Doubtless, it is neither dishonorable, nor, on a
large scale, possible to be otherwise, that students should pursue their
academic career chiefly as ministerial to their capital object of a
future livelihood. But still I contend that it is for the interest of
science and good letters that a considerable body of volunteers should
gather about their banners, without pay or hopes of preferment. This
takes place on a larger scale at Oxford and Cambridge than elsewhere;
and it is but a trivial concession in return, on the part of the
university, that she should allow, even if she had the right to
withhold, the privilege of living within her walls as they would have
lived at their fathers' seats; with one only reserve, applied to all
modes of expense that are, in themselves, immoral excesses, or occasions
of scandal, or of a nature to interfere too much with the natural hours
of study, or specially fitted to tempt others of narrower means to
ruinous emulation.
Upon these principles, as it seems to me, the discipline of the
university is founded. The keeping of hunters, for example, is
unstatutable. Yet, on the other hand, it is felt to be inevitable that
young men of high spirit, familiar with this amusement, will find means
to pursue it in defiance of all the powers, however exerted, that can
properly be lodged in the hands of academic officers. The range of
the proctor's jurisdiction is limited by positive law; and what should
hinder a young man, bent upon his pleasure, from fixing the station of
his hunter a few miles out of Oxford, and riding to cover on a hack,
unamenable to any censure? For, surely, in this age, no man could
propose so absurd a thing as a general interdiction of riding. How, in
fact, does the university proceed? She discountenances the practice;
and, if forced upon her notice, she visits it with censure, and that
sort of punishment which lies within her means. But she takes no pains
to search out a trespass, which, by the mere act of seeking to evade
public display in the streets of the university, already tends to limit
itself; and which, besides, from its costliness, can never become a
prominent nuisance. This I mention as illustrating the spirit of her
legislation; and, even in this case, the reader must carry along with
him the peculiar distinction which I have pressed with regard to English
universities, in the existence of a large volunteer order of students
seeking only the liberalization, and not the profits, of academic life.
In arguing upon their case, it is not the fair logic to say: These
pursuits taint the decorum of the studious character; it is not fair to
calculate how much is lost to the man of letters by such addiction to
fox-hunting; but, on the contrary, what is gained to the fox-hunter,
who would, at any rate, be such, by so considerable a homage paid to
letters, and so inevitable a commerce with men of learning. Anything
whatsoever attained in this direction, is probably so much more than
would have been attained under a system of less toleration. _Lucro
ponamus_, we say, of the very least success in such a case. But, in
speaking of toleration as applied to acts or habits positively against
the statutes, I limit my meaning to those which, in their own nature,
are morally indifferent, and are discountenanced simply as indirectly
injurious, or as peculiarly open to excess. Because, on graver offences
(as gambling, &c.), the malicious impeachers of Oxford must well have
known that no toleration whatsoever is practised or thought of. Once
brought under the eye of the university in a clear case and on clear
evidence, it would be punished in the most exemplary way open to a
limited authority; by _rustication_, at least--that is, banishment for
a certain number of terms, and consequent loss of these terms--supposing
the utmost palliation of circumstances; and, in an aggravated case, or
in a second offence, most certainly by final expulsion.
But it is no part of duty to serve the cause even of good morals by
impure means; and it is as difficult beforehand to prevent the existence
of vicious practices so long as men have, and ought to have, the means
of seclusion liable to no violation, as it is afterwards difficult,
without breach of honor, to obtain proof of their existence. Gambling
has been known to exist in some dissenting institutions; and, in my
opinion, with no blame to the presiding authorities. As to Oxford in
particular, no such habit was generally prevalent in my time; it is not
an English vice; nor did I ever hear of any great losses sustained in
this way. But, were it otherwise, I must hold, that, considering the
numbers, rank, and great opulence, of the students, such a habit would
impeach the spirit and temper of the age rather than the vigilance or
magisterial fidelity of the Oxford authorities. They are limited, like
other magistrates, by honor and circumstances, in a thousand ways; and
if a knot of students will choose to meet for purposes of gaming, they
must always have it in their power to baffle every honorable or becoming
attempt at detecting them. But upon this subject I shall make two
statements, which may have some effect in moderating the uncharitable
judgments upon Oxford discipline. The first respects the age of those
who are the objects of this discipline; on which point a very grave
error prevails. In the last Parliament, not once, but many times over,
Lord Brougham and others assumed that the students of Oxford were
chiefly _boys_; and this, not idly or casually, but pointedly, and with
a view to an ulterior argument; for instance, by way of proving how
little they were entitled to judge of those thirty-nine articles to
which their assent was demanded. Now, this argued a very extraordinary
ignorance; and the origin of the error showed the levity in which their
legislation was conducted. These noble lords had drawn their ideas of
a university exclusively from Glasgow. Here, it is well known, and I
mention it neither for praise nor blame, that students are in the habit
of coming at the early age of fourteen. These may allowably be styled
_boys_. But, with regard to Oxford, eighteen is about the _earliest_
age at which young men begin their residence: twenty and upwards is,
therefore, the age of the majority; that is, twenty is the _minimum_
of age for the vast majority; as there must always be more men of three
years' standing, than of two or of one. Apply this fact to the question
of discipline: young men beyond twenty, generally,--that is to say,
of the age which qualifies men for seats in the national council,--can
hardly, with decency, either be called or treated as boys; and many
things become impossible as applied to _them_, which might be of easy
imposition upon an assemblage _really_ childish. In mere justice,
therefore, when speculating upon this whole subject of Oxford
discipline, the reader must carry along with him, at every step, the
recollection of that signal difference as to age, which I have now
stated, between Oxonians and those students whom the hostile party
contemplate in their arguments. [Footnote: Whilst I am writing, a debate
of the present Parliament, reported on Saturday, March 7, 1835,
presents us with a determinate repetition of the error which I have
been exposing; and, again, as in the last Parliament, this error is not
_inert_, but is used for a hostile (apparently a malicious) purpose;
nay, which is remarkable, it is the _sole_ basis upon which the
following argument reposes. Lord Radnor again assumes that the students
of Oxford are "boys;" he is again supported in this misrepresentation by
Lord Brougham; and again the misrepresentation is applied to a purpose
of assault upon the English universities, but especially upon Oxford.
And the nature of the assault does not allow any latitude in construing
the word _boys_, nor any room for evasion as respects the total charge,
except what goes the length of a total retraction. The charge is, that,
in a requisition made at the very threshold of academic life, upon the
under standing and the honor of the students, the university burdens
their consciences to an extent, which, in after life, when reflection
has enlightened them to the meaning of their engagements, proves either
a snare to those who trifle with their engagements, or an insupportable
burden to those who do not. For the inculpation of the party imposing
such oaths, it is essential that the party taking them should be in a
childish condition of the moral sense, and the sense of responsibility;
whereas, amongst the Oxonian _under_-graduates, I will venture to say
that the number is larger of those who rise above than of those who fall
below twenty; and, as to sixteen (assumed as the representative age by
Lord Radnor), in my time, I heard of only one student, amongst, perhaps,
sixteen hundred, who was so young. I grieve to see that the learned
prelate, who replied to the assailants, was so much taken by surprise;
the defence might have been made triumphant. With regard to oaths
incompatible with the spirit of modern manners, and yet formally
unrepealed--_that_ is a case of neglect and indolent oversight. But the
_gravamen_ of that reproach does not press exclusively upon Oxford; all
the ancient institutions of Europe are tainted in the same way, more
especially the monastic orders of the Romish church.] Meantime, to show
that, even under every obstacle presented by this difference of age, the
Oxford authorities do, nevertheless, administer their discipline with
fidelity, with intrepidity, and with indifference as respects the high
and the low, I shall select from a crowd of similar recollections two
anecdotes, which are but trifles in themselves, and yet are not such to
him who recognizes them as expressions of a uniform system of dealing.
A great whig lord (Earl C----) happened (it may be ten years ago) to
present himself one day at Trinity (the leading college of Cambridge),
for the purpose of introducing Lord F----ch, his son, as a future
member of that splendid society. Possibly it mortified his aristocratic
feelings to hear the head of the college, even whilst welcoming the
young nobleman in courteous terms, yet suggesting, with some solemnity,
that, before taking any final resolution in the matter, his lordship
would do well to consider whether he were fully prepared to submit
himself to college discipline; for that, otherwise, it became his
own duty frankly to declare that the college would not look upon his
accession to their society as any advantage. This language arose out of
some recent experience of refractory and turbulent conduct upon the part
of various young men of rank; but it is very possible that the noble
earl, in his surprise at a salutation so uncourtly, might regard it, in
a tory mouth, as having some lurking reference to his own whig politics.
If so, he must have been still more surprised to hear of another case,
which would meet him before he left Cambridge, and which involved some
frank dealing as well as frank speaking, when a privilege of exception
might have been presumed, if tory politics, or services the most
memorable, could ever create such a privilege. The Duke of W----had two
sons at Oxford. The affair is now long past; and it cannot injure either
of them to say, that one of the brothers trespassed against the college
discipline, in some way, which compelled (or was thought to compel) the
presiding authorities into a solemn notice of his conduct. Expulsion
appeared to be the appropriate penalty of his offences: but, at this
point, a just hesitation arose. Not in any servile spirit, but under a
proper feeling of consideration for so eminent a public benefactor as
this young nobleman's father, the rulers paused--and at length signified
to him that he was at liberty to withdraw himself privately from the
college, but also, and at the same time, from the university. He did so;
and his brother, conceiving him to have been harshly treated, withdrew
also; and both transferred themselves to Cambridge. That could not be
prevented: but there they were received with marked reserve. One was
_not_ received, I believe, in a technical sense; and the other was
received conditionally; and such restrictions were imposed upon his
future conduct as served most amply, and in a case of great notoriety,
to vindicate the claims of discipline, and, in an extreme case, a case
so eminently an extreme one that none like it is ever likely to recur,
to proclaim the footing upon which the very highest rank is received
at the English universities. Is that footing peculiar _to them_? I
willingly believe that it is not; and, with respect to Edinburgh
and Glasgow, I am persuaded that their weight of dignity is quite
sufficient, and would be exerted to secure the same subordination from
men of rank, if circumstances should ever bring as large a number of
that class within their gates, and if their discipline were equally
applicable to the habits of students not domiciled within their walls.
But, as to the smaller institutions for education within the pale of
dissent, I feel warranted in asserting, from the spirit of the anecdotes
which have reached me, that they have not the _auctoritas_ requisite for
adequately maintaining their dignity.
So much for the aristocracy of our English universities: their glory is,
and the happiest application of their vast influence, that they have
the power to be republican, as respects their internal condition.
Literature, by substituting a different standard of rank, tends to
republican equality; and, as one instance of this, properly belonging to
the chapter of _servants_, which originally led to this discussion, it
ought to be known that the class of "servitors," once a large body in
Oxford, have gradually become practically extinct under the growing
liberality of the age. They carried in their academic dress a mark of
their inferiority; they waited at dinner on those of higher rank, and
performed other menial services, humiliating to themselves, and latterly
felt as no less humiliating to the general name and interests of
learning. The better taste, or rather the relaxing pressure of
aristocratic prejudice, arising from the vast diffusion of trade and the
higher branches of mechanic art, have gradually caused these functions
of the order (even where the law would not permit the extinction of
the order) to become obsolete. In my time, I was acquainted with two
servitors: but one of them was rapidly pushed forward into a higher
station; and the other complained of no degradation, beyond the grievous
one of exposing himself to the notice of young women in the streets,
with an untasselled cap; but this he contrived to evade, by generally
going abroad without his academic dress. The _servitors_ of Oxford are
the _sizars_ of Cambridge; and I believe the same changes [Footnote:
These changes have been accomplished, according to my imperfect
knowledge of the case, in two ways: first, by dispensing with the
services whenever that could be done; and, secondly, by a wise
discontinuance of the order itself in those colleges which were left to
their own choice in this matter.] have taken place in both.
One only account with the college remains to be noticed; but this is the
main one. It is expressed in the bills by the word _battels_, derived
from the old monkish word _patella_ (or batella), a plate; and it
comprehends whatsoever is furnished for dinner and for supper, including
malt liquor, but not wine, as well as the materials for breakfast,
or for any casual refreshment to country visitors, excepting only
groceries. These, together with coals and fagots, candles, wine, fruit,
and other more trifling _extras_, which are matters of personal choice,
form so many private accounts against your name, and are usually
furnished by tradesmen living near to the college, and sending their
servants daily to receive orders. Supper, as a meal not universally
taken, in many colleges is served privately in the student's own room;
though some colleges still retain the ancient custom of a public supper.
But dinner is, in all colleges, a public meal, taken in the refectory or
"hall" of the society; which, with the chapel and library, compose the
essential public _suite_ belonging to every college alike. No absence is
allowed, except to the sick, or to those who have formally applied for
permission to give a dinner-party. A fine is imposed on all other cases
of absence. Wine is not generally allowed in the public hall, except to
the "high table," that is, the table at which the fellows and some other
privileged persons are entitled to dine. The head of the college rarely
dines in public. The other tables, and, after dinner, the high table,
usually adjourn to their wine, either upon invitations to private
parties, or to what are called the "common rooms" of the several
orders--graduates and undergraduates, &c. The dinners are always plain,
and without pretensions--those, I mean, in the public hall; indeed,
nothing _can_ be plainer in most colleges--a simple choice between two
or three sorts of animal food, and the common vegetables. No fish, even
as a regular part of the fare; no soups, no game; nor, except on some
very rare festivity, did I ever see a variation from this plain fare at
Oxford. This, indeed, is proved sufficiently by the average amount of
the _battels_. Many men "battel" at the rate of a guinea a week: I
did so for years: that is, at the rate of three shillings a day for
everything connected with meals, excepting only tea, sugar, milk,
and wine. It is true that wealthier men, more expensive men, and more
careless men, often "battelled" much higher; but, if they persisted in
this excess, they incurred censures, more and more urgent, from the head
of the college.
Now, let us sum up; premising that the extreme duration of residence
in any college at Oxford amounts to something under thirty weeks. It
is possible to keep "short terms," as the phrase is, by a residence of
thirteen weeks, or ninety-one days; but, as this abridged residence
is not allowed, except in here and there a college, I shall assume--as
something beyond the strict _maximum_ of residence--thirty weeks as my
basis. The account will then stand thus: