CLUBS AND SOCIETIES
The foregathering fresher--Dibdin and the “Lunatics”--The Constitution
Club--The Oxford Poetical Club--Its rules and minutes--High
Borlace--The Freecynics and Banterers.
Year by year the places of those who go down are filled by succeeding
generations of public school men--men who are more conservative in ideas
than the members of any other class of society. Their immediate ambitions
are limited to achieving a Blue, capturing the presidency of the Union or
winning one of the big university prizes.
They take things as they find them, and very rarely try to launch out on
new lines. They early discover that gregariousness is one of the chief
characteristics of an Oxford man. They find it exhibited in the
extraordinary number of clubs and societies in each college. Their natural
conservatism convinces them that as the forming of clubs is co-existent
with university life, they must not hesitate to follow the admirable
example of their seniors. With the untiring enthusiasm of youth they
concentrate their brains and energies therefore to the formation of new
clubs--having already become members of a great percentage of the
long-founded university clubs which are open to them. They make the
epoch-making discovery that many of their members have cut and dried ideas
on politics, and that others are big with new theories on social
conditions and the education of the masses. Heedless of the fact that in
reality these new theories and political arguments have been discussed and
thrashed out by thousands of Oxford men before they were born, they begin
in their obsession to institute new clubs--political, musical, literary,
debating, social, poetical--clubs of all kinds and conditions. They
cultivate gregariousness, if it is not already temperamental, as one of
the cardinal virtues. They foregather in each other’s rooms nightly,
consume tremendous quantities of tobacco, cake, and coffee, and abide
feverishly by every rule of the particular society of which they are the
founders.
In the eighteenth century the men were just as fond of foregathering; but
they laboured under severe disadvantages in connection with the
authorities, who looked upon the formation of clubs and societies as
something new and consequently revolutionary and dangerous. As an instance
of the hide-bound conservatism of the moss-grown powers that were I cannot
do better than take the case of Dibdin and the “Lunatics,” a club which
was inaugurated at the very end of the eighteenth century. “Several
members of several colleges (in the number of whom I was as proud as happy
to be enlisted),” wrote Dibdin, “met frequently at each other’s rooms, to
talk over and to concoct a code of laws or of regulations for the
establishment of a society to be called a ‘Society for Scientific and
Literary Disquisition.’ It comprehended a debate and an essay, to be
prepared by each member in succession, studiously avoiding, in both, all
topics of religious and political controversy. There was not the slightest
attempt to beat down any one barrier of university law of regulation
throughout our whole code. We were to meet in a hired room, at a private
house, and were to indulge in our favourite themes in the most
unrestrained manner, without giving ingress to a single stranger. Over and
over again was each law revised, corrected, and endeavoured to be rendered
as little objectionable as possible. At length, after the final touches,
we demanded an interview with the Vice-Chancellors and Proctors; and our
founder, William George Maton, of Queen’s College, Messrs Stoddart,
Whitelock, Falconer (of Christ Church, Queen’s and Corpus Colleges) were
deputed to meet the great men in office, and to report accordingly.
“Dr Wills was then Vice-Chancellor.... He received the deputation in the
most courteous manner, and requested that the laws might be left with him,
as much for his own particular and careful examination as for that of
other heads of houses or officers whom he might choose to consult. His
request was as readily complied with, and a day was appointed when the
answer of the oracle might be obtained. In about a week, according to
agreement, the same deputation was received within the library of the
Vice-Chancellor who, after solemnly returning the volume (containing the
laws) into the hands of our worthy founder, addressed them pretty nearly
in the following words: ‘Gentlemen, there does not appear to be anything
in these laws subversive of academic discipline, or contrary to the
statutes of the university--but (ah, that ill-omened But!) as it is
impossible to predict how they may operate, and as innovations of this
sort, and in these times, may have a tendency which may be as little
anticipated as it may be distressing to the framers of such laws, I am
compelled, in the exercise of my magisterial authority, as
Vice-Chancellor, to interdict your meeting in the manner proposed’”--and
then one can see him ringing for the servant to show them out, with a
polite smile on his fat face, in the usual red-tape manner. As, however,
the deputation was prepared for something of this sort they merely retired
politely, breathing murders and slaughterings against the archaism of the
institution of Vice-Chancellor. Returning to their room, they came to the
conclusion that as they did not intend to be beaten “there was,
therefore, one result to adopt--one choice left; and that was, to carry
the object, so dear to our hearts, into effect within our private
apartments in rotation. There we might discuss, debate, and hear essays
read _ad infinitum_; and, accordingly, our first meeting took place in
Queen’s College, at the rooms of our founder, afterwards so long and so
well known in the medical world as Dr Maton.”[16]
After this preliminary check from the Vice-Chancellor, who, in charity be
it said, probably could not help himself, and was only doing his duty
according to his lights, the club throve like a bay tree and became
exceedingly famous. “Our society was quickly enlarged, and the present
Bishop of Llandaff, then a student of Corpus College, and the Rev. John
Horseman, afterwards a tutor in the same college, were enrolled members.
The two Moncrieffs of Baliol were also among our earlier acquisitions, and
some gentlemen commoners of Trinity College (whose name I have forgotten)
together with my oldest, and among my most valued friends, Mr Barwis of
Queen’s, Mr Gibson (afterwards called Riddell) of Worcester, and George
Foster of Lincoln--all united to give strength and respectability to our
association. Our meetings were frequent and full. The essays after having
been read, were entered in a book; and I am not sure whether, at this very
day, such book be not in existence. The subjects of debate usually were,
as of old they ever had been, whether the merits or demerits of such a
character (Cæsar or Queen Elizabeth, for instance) were the greater? Or
whether the good or evil of such a measure in legislation or in politics,
the more predominent. Of our speakers, the elder Moncrieff, and George
Forster of Lincoln were doubtless the most fluent and effective;
especially the latter, who had a fervency of utterance which was at times
surprising. But the younger Moncrieff, in course of time, followed his
brother, _passibus aequis_. Taking the art of speaking and the composition
of an essay together, I think Mr (now Sir John) Stoddart of Christ Church
beat us all. He was always upon his legs, a fearless opponent, and in the
use of a pen the most unpremeditating and successful....
“Meanwhile the fame of our club, or society, began to be noised abroad;
and those who felt no inclination to write essays, or to impose upon
themselves the toil of reading and research for the purpose of making a
speech, were pretty free in using sneering epithets, and in stigmatising
by nicknames. There was, however, _one_ nickname which we instantly and
courageously took to ourselves and adopted--and that was the ‘Lunatics.’
Mad, indeed we were, and desired so to be called--if an occasional
deviation from dull and hard drinking, frivolous gossip, and Boeotian
uproar, could justify that appellation.”
Undoubtedly the origin of present-day first year societies, which, unlike
the “Lunatics,” are nearly always ephemeral affairs, may be found in the
recollections of Richard Graves, in which, referring to William Shenstone,
he says, “Our more familiar acquaintance commenced by an invitation from
Mr Shenstone to breakfast at his chambers, which we accepted; and which,
according to the sociable disposition of most young people, was protracted
to a late hour; during which, Mr Shenstone, I remember, in order to detain
us, produced Cotton’s ‘Virgil Travestie,’ which he had lately met with;
and which, though full of indelicacies and low humour, is certainly a most
laughable performance. I displayed my slender stock of critical knewledge
by applauding, as a work of equal humour, Echard’s ‘Causes of the Contempt
of the Clergy.’ Mr Whistler, who was a year or two older than either of
us, I believe, and had finished his school education at Eton, preferred
Pope’s ‘Rape of the Lock,’ as a higher species of humour than anything we
had produced. In short, this morning’s lounge, which seemed mutually
agreeable, was succeeded by frequent repetitions of them; and at length,
by our meeting likewise, almost every evening, at each other’s chambers
the whole summer, where we read plays and poetry, _Spectators_ and
_Tatlers_, and other works of easy digestion, and sipped Florence
wine.”[17]
There were many famous clubs in the eighteenth century, each of which had
an individuality of its own. Just as the “Lunatics” was literary and
debating, the Constitution Club was political and aggressive, the Oxford
Poetical Club considered itself really poetical, and the High Borlace was
purely social and jovial.
The Constitution Club had its headquarters at the King’s Head Tavern in
the High. Its members “included five fellows, a chaplain and four
gentlemen commoners of New College, one gentleman commoner and seven
others of Oriel, three of Christ Church; Hart Hall, Worcester, All Souls,
Merton, St John’s, Trinity, and Wadham contributed at least one member
each--usually a gentleman commoner.”[18] The motives of its institution
were, according to Amhurst, as follows: “The society took its rise from
the iniquity of the times, and was intended to promote and cultivate
friendship between all such persons as favour’d our present happy
constitution; they thought themselves obliged openly and publickly to avow
their loyalty, and manifest their sincere affection to King George upon
all proper and becoming occasions, and to check, as much as in them lay,
the vast torrent of treason and dissaffection which overflow’d the
university. They thought it their duty to show all possible marks of
respect to those faithful officers, who were so seasonably sent to that
place, by the favour of the government, to protect the quiet part of
the king’s subjects, and to suppress the tumultuary practices of the
profess’d enemies to his majesty’s person and government; and for
constantly adhering to what they thought their duty in those points; and
for no other cause, that they can apprehend, they have been so unfortunate
as to become obnoxious to the university, and to feel, many of them, the
severe effects of their resentments.”
[Illustration: A WESTERN VIEW OF ALL SOULS COLLEGE.]
How much truth there is in this account of the lofty aims and patriotic
ambitions of this club, and whether Amhurst was one of the St John’s men
who were members, and consequently had his facts first hand, or whether it
is merely an account written round one or two of the club’s actions, it is
impossible to ascertain. At any rate Amhurst seems to have dropped his
sarcasm, and to have written straightforwardly and sincerely on their
behalf. So that it is only fair to conclude that they had these objects,
more or less, in view. In proof of his statements Christopher Wordsworth
tells us that “on the king’s birthday, the 28th of May aforesaid, the
whole body of the Constitution Club met together at a tavern and ordered
the windows of the house to be illuminated, and some faggots to be
prepared for a bonfire. But before the bonfire could be lighted, a very
numerous mob, which was hired for that purpose, tore to pieces the
faggots, and then assaulted the room where the club was sitting, with
brickbats and stones. All the time that the mob was thus employed, the
disaffected scholars, who had crowded the houses and streets near the
tavern, continued throwing up their caps and scattering money amongst the
rabble and shouting, ‘Down with the Constitutioners; down with the Whigs;
no George; James for ever; Ormond, Bolingbroke,’ etc.... The
Constitutioners thought it prudent to make the best of their way to their
colleges for the night. On the Sunday the club met again at Oriel, and
were the objects of the indignation of the mob, who thronged the streets
at six o’clock. A Brasenose man was wounded by a gunshot fired by one of
the Constitutioners, or their friends in Oriel, after which the crowd
retired to pull down the conventicles.” (This account of the affair is
given as being less biassed than Amhurst’s, which, in substance, is
identical, but does not tally in one or two details.)
The fat was consequently sizzling noisily in the fire. The whole place
discussed nothing else for days. Prosecutions were hourly made in the
Vice-Chancellor’s court. The grand jury of Oxfordshire made a
“presentment” in no ordered terms against the Constitutioners, who also
met with “unjust and scandalous usage” in St Mary’s, Golgotha, the
Theatre, Convocation House, and the Schools, which all rang with
“invectives and anathemas against them.... Even those grave tools, the
Vice-Chancellor and Proctors, to enliven their dull harangues, and gain
the applause of the subordinate rabble, never fail’d, in their most solemn
speeches before the convocation, to fall foul and heavy on the
Constitution Club.” The noise of the affair reached as far as the ears of
the King himself, and “rattling letters” were sent to the Vice-Chancellor.
The Oxford Poetical Club was very famous in 1721. To obtain any accurate
idea of its constitution and objects it is necessary to strike the happy
mean between the accounts of it which are given by Amhurst and Erasmus
Philipps. The latter recorded in his diary that on 17th August of that
year he “went with Mr Tristram to the Poetical Club (whereof he is a
member) at the Tuns, kept by Mr Broadgate, where met Dr Evans, Fellow of
St John’s, and Mr Jno. Jones, Fellow of Balliol, members of the club.
Subscribed 5s. to Dr Evans’s ‘Hymen and Juno’ (which one merrily call’d
Evans’s Bubble, it being now South Sea Time). Drank Galicia wine, and was
entertained with two Fables of the Doctor’s composition, which were indeed
masterly in their kind; but the Doctor is allowed to have a peculiar
knack, and to excell all mankind at a Fable.”[19]
Amhurst, by no means a respecter of persons, devoted two papers to
ridiculing the poetry club, from which I cull the following: “Divers
eminent and most ingenious gentlemen, true lovers and judges of poetry,
having with great grief observ’d that noble art declining in Oxford (its
antient seat and fountain) resolv’d, if possible, to restore it to its
pristine vigour and glory. They justly apprehended, both from reason and
experience, that a critical lecture, once a term, though never so
judicious, was not sufficient; and that the theory of any art was
defective without the practice; and, therefore, they thought the best
method to forward this design would be to institute a weekly meeting of
the finest geniuses and _beaux esprits_ of the university, at a certain
place, to be appointed by them, where they might debate the cause of
poetry, and put its laws into regular execution. This proposal was
immediately assented to; and the next question was, where to meet?
“This occasioned a short debate, some speaking in favour of the King’s
Head, and some declaring for the Crown; but they were both opposed by
others, who presum’d that the Three Tuns would suit them much better; in
which they carry’d their point, and the Three Tuns was thereupon nominated
the place of meeting, upon these two proviso’s, that Mr Broadgate would
keep good wine and a pretty wench at the bar; both which are by all
criticks allow’d to be of indispensable use in poetical operations.”
The alleged cause of this picturesque enumeration of imaginary details
was that several poems had appeared at that time in the newspapers with
the public sanction of the club. Terrae Filius immediately began to puzzle
his brain as to the membership of the club and its intentions. For a time
he admitted himself entirely baffled, but at last “chance, almighty
chance,” prospered his wishes. As the result of his enquiries he
discovered the rules of the society to be:--
“1. That no person be admitted a member of this society, without Letters
Testimonial, to be sign’d by three persons of credit, that he has
distinguished himself in some tale, catch, sonnet, epigram, madrigal,
anagram, acrostick, tragedy, comedy, farce, or epick poem.
“2. That no person be admitted a member of this society, who has any
visible way of living, or can spend five shillings per annum _de proprio_;
it being an established maxim, that no rich man can be a good poet.
“3. That no member presume to discover the secrets of this society to any
body whatsoever, upon pain of expulsion.
“4. That no member in any of his lucubrations do transgress the rules of
Aristotle, or any other sound critick, antient or modern, under pain of
having his said lucubrations burnt, in a full club, by the hands of the
small-beer drawer.
“5. That no member do presume in any of his writings, to reflect on the
Church of England, as by law established, or either of the two famous
universities, or upon any magistrate or member of the same under pain of
having his said writings burnt as aforesaid and being himself expell’d.
“6. That no tobacco be smoked in this society; the fumigation thereof
being supposed to cloud the poetical faculty, and to clog the subtle
wheels of the Imagination.
“7. That no member do repeat any verses, without leave first had and
obtained from Mr President.
“8. That no person be allowed above the space of one hour at a time to
repeat.
“9. That no person do print any of his verses, without the approbation of
the major part of the society, under pain of expulsion.
“10. That every member do subscribe his name to the foregoing articles.”
These rules, before finally settled upon, had been fully discussed. A
member, by name Dr Crassus, took strong objection to the smoking rule
because he was covered with a superfluity of adipose tissue, and held that
the use of tobacco “would carry off those noxious heavy particles which
turn the edge of his fancy, and obstruct his intellectual perspiration.”
He was backed up by a medical friend, and the result was that a special
exception was made in his sole favour. A second gentleman said that he
could not declare with a “safe conscience” that he was unable to spend
five shillings per annum _de proprio_; but the President ably settled the
point by observing that “as God is the sole author and disposer of all
Things, we cannot in strict sense, call any thing our own; nor say that we
have any visible way of living, our daily bread being the only bounty of
His invisible hand, and therefore you may, _salvâ conscientiâ_, declare
that you have no visible way of living; and that you cannot spend five
shillings per annum _de proprio_, though according to vain human
computation, you are worth five thousand pounds a year.” The final
objection raised, before the rules were at last suitably framed and hung
over the mantelpiece in the club-room, was that one of the gentlemen could
not subscribe to Rule 10. He could not write, and therefore could not
comply with the strict letter of the law. If, however, he could be allowed
to make his mark, the whole difficulty could be settled out of hand. This
was agreed to without hesitation, “it being truly no uncommon Thing in
many an excellent poet.”
Not content with thus pouring ridicule upon their foundation and
institution, Amhurst, in his subsequent paper in which he described their
first meeting absolutely surpassed himself at their expense.
MINUTES OF THE OXFORD POETICAL CLUB.
“The members being met, and Mr President having assum’d the chair,
three preliminary bumpers pass’d round the board; after which Dr
Crassus, in pursuance of the power granted him, as mentioned in our
last, retir’d to a snug corner of the room where a little table was
placed for him, with pipes and tobacco upon it; then the doctor
handled his Arms; and as he was glazing his pipe with a Ball of
superfine wax, which he always carried in his pocket for that use, he
alarm’d the room with a sudden peal of laughter, which drew the eyes
of the assembly towards him, and made all of them very solicitous to
know the conceit which occasioned it; but the doctor was not, for
several minutes, able to do it, the fit continuing upon him, and
growing louder and louder; at last, when it began to intermit, he made
a shift to reveal the cause of his mirth thus:--
“‘Why, gentlemen,’ said he,--‘ha! ha! ha!--why, gentlemen, I say the
prettiest Epigram! ha! ha! ha! I cannot tell you for my life--I have
made, I say, upon this ball of wax here, ha! ha! ha!--that you ever
heard in your lives. Shall I repeat it, Mr President?’
“‘By all means, doctor,’ said he; ‘no body more proper to open the
assembly than Doctor Crassus!’
“Then the doctor compos’d his countenance, and standing up, with the
ball of wax in his right hand, pronounc’d the following distich with
an heroick emphasis.
“‘This wax, d’ye see, with which my pipe I glaze,
Is the best wax I ever us’d in all my days.’
“‘Ha! ha! ha! How d’ye like it, gentlemen ha! ha! ha! Is it not very
pretty gentlemen?’
“‘Very pretty, without flattery, doctor,’ said they all; ‘very
excellent, indeed.’
“Upon which the doctor smiled pleasantly, and lighted his pipe....
During the first part of the night their thoughts were something
gloomy and run upon elegies and epitaphs upon living as well as dead
men; but you will find them brighten up as the night advance and the
bottles increase. They begin with satire and funeral lamentation; but
end with love, smuttiness and a song”--and there I will leave them.
The High Borlace was a Tory club which, says Christopher Wordsworth, “had
a convivial meeting held annually at the King’s Head Tavern in Oxford, on
the 18th of August (or, if that fell on a Sunday, on the 19th, as in
1734), on which occasion Dr Leigh, Master of Balliol, was of the High
Borlace and the first clergyman who had attended. It seems to have been
patronised by the county families, and it is not improbable that there was
a ball connected with it. The members chose a Lady Patroness: in 1732 Miss
Stonhouse; 1733, Miss Molly Wickham of Garsington; 1734 Miss Anne Cope,
daughter of Sir Jonathan Cope of Bruern.”
In the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ in the year 1765 there was the following
reference: “Monday Aug. 19, was held at the Angel inn, at Oxford, the High
Borlase, when Lady Harriott Somerset was chosen Lady Patroness for the
year ensuing.”
Of other smaller clubs there were the Freecynics in 1737, which Dr
Rawlinson describes as “a kind of Philosophical Club who have a set of
symbolical words and grimaces, unintelligible to any but those of their
own society,” and the Nonsense Club, founded by George Coleman, Bonnel
Thornton and Lloyd about 1750. The latter would seem from its name to be a
revival of the earlier Banterers existing almost a century before, who are
described by Wood as “a set of scholars so-called, some M.A., who make it
their employment to talk at a venture, lye, and prate what nonsense they
please, if they see a man talk seriously they talk floridly nonsense, and
care not what he says; this is like throwing a cushion at a man’s head
that pretends to be grave and wise.” Although Coleman assisted to found
the Nonsense Club he makes no reference to it in his reminiscences, so it
is more than probable that it was merely the whim of a term or so.