"Thames, the best loved of all old Ocean's sons,
Of his old sire, to his embraces runs . . .
Though deep, yet clear, through gentle yet not dull,
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full."
SIR J. DENHAM.
[Plate XXVI. Iffley : The Old Mill]
The subject of Plate XXVI is no longer in existence; it was burned
to the ground some years ago, and has never been rebuilt--for steam
has rendered unprofitable the old-fashioned water mills such as it
was. Yet the very fact that Iffley Mill is no more perhaps renders it
the more appropriate subject for a series of Oxford pictures. It
claims a place among them, not for its beauty, picturesque though it
was, but as a symbol of the open-air pursuits of Oxford, which play
so large a part in the lives of her sons. And as those pursuits are
so diverse, and cannot all be directly pictured, it is fitting that
they should be represented by a picture which is a symbol of them
all, by a picture of something no longer existing, not introduced for
itself, but suggesting whole fields of varied activity, different and
yet all akin.
This may be fanciful, but the part played by open-air sports in the
life of Oxford is a great reality. Yet, in their present organized
form, they are a feature of quite, modern times. Fifty years ago,
football as a college sport in Oxford was only beginning; the men are
still living, and not octogenarians, who introduced their "school
games"--"Rugby," "Eton Wall game," etc.--at Oxford. Golf was left to
Scotchmen, hockey to small boys, La Crosse had not yet come from
beyond the Atlantic. Cricket and rowing were the only organized
games, and even in these the inter-University contests are
comparative novelties; the first boat race against Cambridge was
rowed in 1829, and it has only been an annual fixture since 1856.
Several results followed from this. In the first place, the very
sense of the word "sportsman" was different. Now it means a man who
can play well some, one at least, of the games that all men play;
then, it had its old meaning of a man who could shoot, or ride, or
fish, or do all these.
Again, as cricket is always a game for the few, and as the rowing
authorities, by the time the summer term begins, had selected their
chosen followers and left the rest of the world free, there was far
more walking, and consequently more knowledge of the country round
the city, than is the rule now. The long rambles which play so
prominent a part in Oxford biographies, such as Stanley's /Life of
Arnold/, were still the fashion, while of those who could afford to
ride, certainly many more availed themselves of the privilege than do
now.
So far as games themselves were concerned, their cost was far less.
College matches away from Oxford were almost unknown; college
grounds, which were still quite a new thing in the middle of last
century, were nearly all concentrated on Cowley Marsh, and the
somewhat heavy contribution from all undergraduates, now generally
collected by the college authorities in "battels" and become semi-
official, was not dreamed of. Those who played paid, and the rest of
the college got off easily. And games were much more games than they
are now, and less of institutions; the "professional amateur," who
comes up with a public school reputation to get his "blue," was
almost unknown, and certainly, so far as rowing was concerned, any
powerful man with broad shoulders and a sound heart was a likely
candidate for the University Boat. The days were not dreamed of when
the fortunes of Oxford and Cambridge on the river depended largely on
the choice of a University by members of the Eton Eight.
But there is of course another side to the development of Oxford
athletics. Perhaps the most important point is that play is the
greatest social leveller. It is easy to attend the same lectures as a
man, and even to sit at the same table with him in hall, and not to
know him well, because his clothes and his accent are not quite
correct. But in these days when so many games are played, and when
competition is so keen, any man who can do anything gets his chance;
and many are the instances every year of men who would never have
made friends in their colleges outside a small circle, had not their
quickness as half-backs, or their ability as slow bowlers, brought
their contemporaries to recognize their merits. You cannot play with
a man without knowing him, and young Oxford is democratic at heart,
and when once it knows a man, it does not trouble about the non-
essentials of wealth and fashion.
And again, though it may seem a paradox to say it, the amount of play
in Oxford has increased the amount of work. Organized games mean
physical fitness, and physical fitness means ability to get
intellectual work done. Perhaps it may be argued that the absorption
in athletics deadens all intellectual life, and that many Oxford men
read only and discuss only the sporting news in the papers; this no
doubt has a strange fascination, even for men who do not play; one of
the most distinguished of Oxford statesmen of the last generation,
himself so blind that he could not hit a ball, confessed to me that
he always, in the summer, read the cricket news in /The Times/ before
he read anything else. But he and many other Oxford men read
something else, too. And it may be maintained without question that
the hard exercise, which is the fashion in Oxford, tends to keep
men's bodies healthy and to raise the moral tone of the place. Oxford
and Cambridge may not be what they should be in morals, but they
compare very favourably in this respect with other towns.
All this seems a far cry from Iffley Mill; but Iffley means to an
Oxford man, not so much the picturesque village, nor even its gem of
a Norman Church that towers above the lock, but the place where
Eights and Torpids start for the races. And the boating, which is so
associated with the name of Iffley, is still--and long may it be so--
the queen of Oxford sports. To succeed as an oar, a man has to learn
to sacrifice the present to the future, to scorn delights and live
laborious days, to work together with others, and to sink his
individuality in the common cause. These are great qualities, and
therefore in any book on Oxford, the picture, which recalls them and
is their symbol, has a right to a place.
Printed in Great Britain.
Letterpress by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh.
Plates engraved and printed by Henry Stone & Son, Ltd., Banbury.
[OXFORD FROM THE EAST (End papers)]