’VARSITY LITERATURE
Present-day ineptitude--Jackson’s _Oxford Journal_--Domestic
intelligence--Election poems--Curious advertisements--Superabundance
of St John’s editors--Terrae Filius.
There is some indefinable element in the atmosphere of Oxford which has
always excited an itch for writing. The sister university can, of course,
point to many sons whose names stand high in the literary firmament, but
they do not amount to a tithe of the number of great writers who have
passed through Oxford. Oxford may be the home of lost causes, but she is
also the cradle for infant pens. Generations of pens splutter their first
incoherencies behind the comparative shelter of the city walls through
which the harsh criticism of maturer writers cannot penetrate. In stilted
phraseology and doubtful grammar they cover numberless sheets with
emotional outpourings. There may be future literary geniuses hidden among
them, but from those early imitative strivings it is difficult to single
out even one. They are novices who humbly apprentice themselves to the
profession of letters. From time to time some quite brilliant piece of
work throws up more vividly the amateurishness of the rest. Such meteoric
flashes are, however, rare, and thus the general standard does not rise
above mediocrity. It is because all Undergraduate pens are very young and
inexperienced that the present-day ’varsity papers can make no claim to
literary distinction. To their credit be it said that they do not. They
are content to remain just ’varsity papers--which is synonymous with
saying that they are either tediously over-academic or peculiarly inane;
that their light articles are excellent imitations of the halfpenny comic
papers, that their serious efforts are most praiseworthy for their
capacity for inflicting boredom, and that their editorials border upon the
inept.
It is not an unknown thing for a present-day Undergraduate paper, which is
supposedly conducted _by_ Undergraduates _for_ Undergraduates to be owned
and financed by a local tradesman. He, being thus in supreme command,
maintains a private blue pencil, and, obsessed by the idea that because he
sells pens and inks he is therefore a man of parts and literary
consideration, rules the poor devil of an Undergraduate editor with a rod
of iron. What is the result? It is that the average ’varsity paper is
composed of childish leaders edited by the financier; a series of vastly
foolish and unentertaining remarks which may or may not have been heard in
the Broad; pages of notes which are half-frightened comments on the week’s
doings written invariably by critics who have not sufficient pluck to say
that they consider the person or thing under criticism to be either
thoroughly bad or supremely excellent; a mawkish account of the speeches
delivered in the Union Society’s Debates, written with the condescending
patronage of the old stager, by some self-satisfied ex-official, himself a
thoroughly bad speaker and so totally unqualified to criticise; a
collection of dramatic criticisms of the bi-weekly pieces at the New
Theatre, scribbled by some musical comedy enthusiast who, in addition to a
total ignorance of the drama, has been warned by the financier of the
paper to say nice things however bad the play or the acting in order to
secure free seats from the theatre; and, lastly, a fulsome and
objectionably personal article which purports to be a biography of a
well-known Oxford man.
Perhaps under these Gilbertian conditions it is no wonder that the
literary efforts of Georgian times put those of the present to shame. In
the eighteenth century university journals were at least independent. They
looked for no pecuniary assistance from local ironmongers or haberdashers.
The consequence is that although the contributors were beginners whose
efforts were the result of the itch for writing brought on by that
indefinable element which was in the atmosphere of Oxford then as now,
their work was unhampered by any outside considerations. The literary
standard was not of the highest order. How could it be when the writers
were lads varying from eighteen to twenty years of age? It was, however,
higher than that of to-day. On turning over the various ’varsity papers of
two centuries ago, an uncomfortable sensation of that most unusual
emotion--humility--inevitably results, because there is undoubtedly found
in them much that is witty, fearless, original, vivid, and entertaining.
In those days the editor drew up a scheme for running his paper, and
adhered to it in defiance of Don and man. Now, however, in his frantic
efforts to keep life in his moribund sheet, the editor does not see that
his copy is good and worth printing, copy guaranteed to sell largely. That
is not the idea. The only way to secure financial soundness is, he finds,
to pander to the advertisers by the shifty method of writing puffs for
cigarettes, soaps, wines, and so on, in a column which bears a disguised
and misleading heading, and which is an insult to the intelligence of his
youngest reader.
In analysing the university journals of the eighteenth century I will
begin with the year 1753, when the inhabitants of Oxford and the
surrounding counties were enlivened by Jackson’s _Oxford Journal_. As to
its make-up the editor announced that, “This paper will be more complete
than any that has hitherto appeared in this Part of the Kingdom. For
besides the Articles of News, Foreign and Domestic, in which we shall
endeavour to surpass every other Paper, our Situation will enable us to
oblige our readers with a particular account of every Transaction relating
to the present Opposition in Oxfordshire, as also with a Variety of
curious Pieces in Prose and Verse, on both sides of the Question; which no
other Paper can procure.” Having made this declaration of his _modus
operandi_ Jackson adhered to it rigidly and fully. His columns of foreign
news were stocked with items of note and interest. Foreign politics, wars,
rumours of wars, agricultural depressions or rises were all included, and
came from the uttermost parts of the earth. The domestic intelligence
covered the movements of the King and royal family, meetings of celebrated
London societies, and chatty descriptions of assaults and batteries. In
one issue there was a sporting account of how “a young man ran from Queen
Street, Cheapside, to Hornsey Wood, and back again, in one Hour and four
minutes.” The next paragraph related that “the same Morning was found
drowned in the River, William Andrew, a Master Taylor in Spital Fields.
His watch and Money, with two Rings on his Finger, were found upon him.”
This little tragedy was immediately followed by an incident of comedy
which occurred in the London streets.
“Between Five and Six o’clock on Sunday Evening an uncommon Scheme was put
in Execution by a Gang of Pickpockets in St James’s Park. A Person very
well dressed fixing himself with great Attention, as tho’ he saw something
particular in the Air, occasioned a Number of People to enquire the Reason
and join in the Speculation, when he asserted he saw a very bright Star;
and while he was busy in pointing out the Constellation to the Spectators
several of them lost their handkerchiefs, but the Star gazer got off.”
Jackson’s news columns were every bit as full in comparison as the London
papers to-day. With politics, too, he dealt very fully. In a short and
pithy editorial, however, he assured his readers that his own political
views did not count--he was merely running the paper. This, odd as it may
seem, was sound diplomatic policy, because in those days, with
ever-changing party feeling, it was a mere matter of five minutes to issue
an injunction, stop the press, and confiscate the whole plant. Devoted as
he was to political interest Jackson printed many of the promised “curious
Pieces of Prose and Verse.”
“RECEIPT TO MAKE A VOTE.
“_By the cook of Sir J. D----d._
“Take a Cottager of Thirty shillings a Year, tax Him at Forty; Swear
at Him; Bully Him; take your business from Him; Give Him your business
again; make Him drunk; Shake Him by the Hand; Kiss his Wife, and he is
an Honest Fellow.
“_N.B._--The above Cook will make Affidavit before any Justice of the
Peace, that this Receipt has been try’d on the Body of Billy S---- and
several others in the Neighbourhood of K--rtle--n, and never failed of
Success.”
The other political contribution took the form of an election song, the
sort of thing that the Undergraduates of those times would seize upon and
parade the streets of the university, chanting right lustily in gangs.
“ADVICE TO FREEHOLDERS.
“Ye honest Freeholders, bestir all your stumps;
For all now depends upon who turns up Trumps.
Be sure that you chuse
Neither Placemen nor Jews.
Nor such as are likely their trust to abuse.
To the devil you’re sold if the Conj’rer prevails;
If Israel’s Black Seed, beware of your Tails.
_Chorus._
“Alas! that poor Britons should lose for their Sins
Their Liberties, Properties and their Fore-Skins.”
In addition to such contributions in prose and verse, the columns of the
Journal were open to any keen correspondent who cared to air either his
views or his grievances--an opportunity of which the fullest advantage was
taken. In every issue urgent appeals and exhortations to voters and
freeholders appeared over various names. The advertisement columns, such
as they were, contained frequent announcements of the publication of
political pamphlets addressed to the “Gentlemen, Clergy, and Freeholders
of the country of Oxford.” These columns contained also the most curious
hotch-potch of unexpected posts and requests, such as:
“TO BE DRUNK FOR BY CANDLE,
“AT WILL’S COFFEE-HOUSE, IN OXFORD, ON WEDNESDAY NEXT,
“A LIVING,
“Worth near _Thirty Pounds_ per Annum, besides Surplice fees and other
emoluments. None but True Blue Parsons to drink for it. Three
Gentlemen with White Wigs and Red Faces are already entered.
“_N.B._--Very soon will be ate for at the same place, a tollerable
_Curacy_, by those who never get a Dinner but of a Sunday. Codd and
Oyster Sauce will be the Subject for this trial. Mr B--lst--ne is
excepted against in both Cases as he will spoil Sport.”
Another frequently-appearing notice was an advertisement of a booklet of
advice to new-married persons, or the art of having beautiful children.
This was surrounded by bills of races, cock fights, arrivals of new
dancing masters, who addressed themselves to the nobility and gentry in
and about Oxford, quack medicines and ointments which were a never-failing
remedy for the itch, announced “by the King’s authority. _N.B._--One box
is sufficient to cure a grown person, and divided, is a cure for two
children.”
For the rest it was the receptacle for articles of every nature from all
and sundry. Warton left his antiquarian researches to afford himself a
little relaxation by writing for it a version of Gray’s _Elegy_ up to
date, or an appreciation of Ben Tyrell’s mutton pies. From the various
coffee-houses Jackson received the wonderful effusions of the Bucks of the
first head, sonnets to Sylvia’s eyelashes, poems in praise of Oxford ale,
and even an occasional Latin verse. “Old Lochard, the newsman,” says J. R.
Green in his delightful Oxford chapters, “who, bell in hand, hawked the
Journal through the streets, owed to his college patrons not only the
antiquated cane and rusty grizzle wig, which they had thrown by after ten
years’ service of the tankard at buttery hatch, in return for quick
despatches; but the merry rhymes that every Christmas drew a douceur from
the tradesman, a slice of sirloin and a cup of October from the squire, or
a dram from Mother Baggs.”[22]
In the Journal’s own war paean:--
“Each vast event our varied page supplies,
The fall of princes or the rise of pies;
Patriots and squires learn here with little cost
Or when a kingdom or a match is lost;
Both sexes here approved receipts peruse,
Hence belles may clean their teeth or beaux their shoes,
From us informed Britannia’s farmers tell
How Louisburgh by British thunders fell;
’Tis we that sound to all the Trump of Fame,
And babes lisp Amherst’s and Boscawen’s name.
All the four quarters of the globe conspire
Our news to fill, and raise your glory higher.”
Throughout almost the entire eighteenth century the editorial chairs of
the different periodicals seem to have been filled for the most part by St
John’s men. Terrae Filius appeared first in 1721 under the guidance of
Nicholas Amhurst of St John’s. In 1789 _The Loiterers_, a literary weekly,
was launched before the public by James Austen of St John’s. His brother,
H. T. Austen of the same college, materially assisted him by contributing
a number of delightful imaginative articles. This paper was filially
dedicated by the editor to the President and Fellows of his college, and
ran successfully for two years. The present-day members have done their
best to maintain the literary traditions of this college, for that nine
days’ wonder, the _Tuesday Review_, was edited and run by two rash men of
St John’s.
Amhurst took it upon himself to fill the post of cat-o’-nine-tails to the
University, and in his “secret history” lashed at everybody and thing that
was not to his liking, or that seemed to him to constitute in any way an
abuse. He discovered for himself, in all their abundance, the manifold
troubles of an editor, but was not to be coerced or cajoled into anything
that he did not consider fit and proper.
“In a work of this nature,” he wrote in the preface to the second edition
of Terrae Filius, “it is very hard to please any, and impossible to please
all. The different tempers and tastes of men cannot relish the same style
or manner of writing any more than the same dish or the same diversion:
fops love romances; pedants love jargon; the splenatic man delights in
satire; and the gay courtier in panegyric; some are pleased with poetry;
others with prose; some are for plain truths, and some for disguise and
dissimulation. I was aware of this when I began, and, in my second paper,
reserved to myself a liberty to be in what humour I pleased, and to vary
my manner as well as my subject, hoping thereby to please most sorts of
readers; but I quickly found myself disappointed in my expectations,
having often received, by the same post, complaints from some of my
correspondents, that I was too grave for the character of Terrae Filius;
and from others, that I affected levity too much for one who styled
himself a reformer. In answer to both of the objections I shall beg my
readers to consider that as, on one hand, it ought not to be expected that
a man should keep his face upon the broad grin for half a year together;
so, on the other, I cannot apprehend that it is at all necessary for a
reformer to be a puritan, always in the dumps, and always holding forth
with a dismal face and a canting tone:--
“‘... ridiculum acri
Fortis et melius magnas plerumque secat res.’
“... I can see nothing in it to repent of, but the want of sufficient
abilities to treat a subject of such general importance in the manner
which it deserves. But I hope the reader will excuse some imperfections,
when he considers the nature of my stunted education, that I was allow’d
to continue but three years at Oxford, and was not twenty-four years of
age when I compleated this undertaking.”
In self-explanation Terrae Filius started off his campaign with sundry
paragraphs calculated to make the authorities uneasy as to their own
future safety, and to cause Undergraduates to champion him against them at
all hazards.
“It has, till of late,” he explained, “been a custom, from time
immemorial, for one of our family to mount the rostrum at Oxford at
certain seasons, and divert an innumerable crowd of spectators, who
flock’d thither to hear him from all parts, with a merry oration in the
fescenine manner, interspersed with secret history, raillery, and sarcasm,
as the occasions at the times supply’d him with matter. If a venerable
head of a college was caught snug a bed with his neighbour’s wife; or
shaking his elbows on a Sunday morning; or flattering a prime minister for
a bishopric; or coaxing his bedmaker’s girl out of her maidenhead; the
hoary old sinner might expect to hear of it from our lay-pulpit the next
Act. Or if a celebrated toast and a young student were seen together at
midnight under a shady myrtle tree, billing like two turtle doves, to him
it belonged, being a poet as well as an orator, to tell the tender story
in a melancholy ditty, adapted to pastoral music.”
Claiming to follow the precedents established by his old-time
predecessors, Terrae Filius set about showing up the scandalous old Heads,
disguised in thinly-veiled names. As a consequence he was many times
prohibited by Vice-Chancellors and preached down, and cordially loathed
and execrated by all the college Heads and Fellows of his time, whom he
attacked either directly or indirectly.
“Why should a poor Undergraduate,” he asked, “be called an idle rascal,
and a good-for-nothing blockhead, for being perhaps but twice at chapel in
one day; or for coming into college at ten or eleven o’clock at night; or
for a thousand other greater trifles than these; whilst the grey-headed
doctors may indulge themselves in what debaucheries and corruptions they
please, with impunity, and without censure? Methinks it could not do any
great hurt to the universities if the old fellows were to be jobed at
least once in four or five years for their irregularities, as the young
ones are everyday, if they offend.”
Abuses of such a nature are long dead, and a Terrae Filius to-day would
rapidly die of starvation by reason of the lack of matter. Then, however,
he not only lived, but waxed fat on the news he ferreted out--rather in
the manner of a leech applied to a festering sore. Advertisements to him
meant nothing. They were unsought, and would have been refused if
offered. He was _pro bono publico_, ever ready with advice, satire,
criticism, explanation, and always humour. His pen was untiring in writing
a subject up or down, according to its merits or demerits. Political,
religious, academic, and social abuses were thrown on to the screen
fearlessly. His paternal advice to freshmen, although written in a vein of
biting irony, was, nevertheless exactly suited to the times, and, if
followed unswervingly, must assuredly have been of vast assistance in
coping with the wily, time-serving sculls and beer-swilling tutors. His
advice as to their morale was penned with his tongue in his cheek; but in
substance it was none the less straight and praiseworthy. His political
views were consistent and very strenuous, and the opposition received a
royal scourging from his stinging and lengthy lashes. His contempt for
Smarts was only exceeded by his scorn for drink-soddened, incapable
Fellows, and the scandalous manner in which they neglected the statutes
and allowed everything to run to seed. His boldness in choice of subjects
was unparalleled, the outspoken manner of setting them forth absolutely
inimitable. The results achieved by his work must have been considerable,
though to a large extent unperceived publicly, because a new leaf turned
frankly and openly would have been an avowal of guilt on the part of the
persons concerned. The proof that he was largely read lies in the fact
that he was preached about in no measured terms in public pulpits,
prohibited by various authorities, roasted by aggrieved parties in
coffee-and ale-houses, and, in fact, was a household word on every one’s
tongue.
A lengthy disquisition upon the way in which the truth was mangled,
disguised, covered up, and turned about by priests, statesmen, and every
“old libertine in authority” was followed by the ensuing declaration:--
“I, Terrae Filius, a free-thinker, and a free-speaker, highly incensed
against all knavery and imposture, and not thinking _Truth_ such a
terrible enemy to religion and good order, as it has been represented, do
hereby declare war against all cheats and deluders, however dignified, or
wheresoever residing; the fear of obloquy and ill-usage shall not deter me
from this undertaking, nor shall any considerations rob me of the liberty
of my own thoughts and my own tongue. In the pursuit of this design, I
shall not confine myself to any particular method; but shall be grave and
whimsical, serious or ludicrous, prosaical or poetical, philosophical or
satirical, argue or tell stories, weep over my subject, or laugh over it,
be in humour or out of humour, according to whatever passion is uppermost
in my breast whilst I am writing.”
In token of this promise there stands the truth on every page, however
bedded in satire, philosophy, poetry, or ridicule. He saw to it that his
daily path was studded with nails, and in his passage he hit them each one
on the head. As a result the pages of Terrae Filius are from cover to
cover a source of immense joy. For an example of bold and delightful
satire I cannot find a better instance than the _ne plus ultra_ in skits
on the Poetical Club. Of course he gave the president and learned
professors who composed it fictitious names, but it is palpable that those
caricatured recognised themselves, and, if they had the least grain of
humour in their compositions, they must have enjoyed it thoroughly. As,
however, the question of their possessing a sense of humour is open to
grave doubts--a fact proved by the very formation of the club and the
secrecy of its doings--it is infinitely more likely that the club writhed
under his well-pointed jibes and consigned the author to eternal
perdition. Then, too, the bland and smiling manner in which he turned
aside the violent pulpit denunciations of his hard-hit victims is
exhilarating to a degree. He received, for instance, a letter from an
anonymous friend (hidden behind the title “John Spy”) who sent him an
account of the heated charges laid at his door by a certain grave college
Head. Terrae printed the letter and smilingly pointed out the reasons of
the man’s wrath in a tone of charming tolerance.
“You see, reader,” he said, “that I had no sooner undertaken this task but
I raised a nest of holy wasps and hornets about my ears; an huge old
drone, grown to an excessive bulk upon the spoils of many years, has
thought fit, you see, to call me terrible names before his learned
audience, at St Mary’s Church in Oxford; it is, it seems, an hellish
attempt to bring about a reformation of the universities; and it is daring
and impious in me to style myself a free-thinker and a free-speaker: poor
man! poor man! What! art afraid I should tell tales out of school, how a
certain fat doctor got his bedmaker with child, and play’d several other
unlucky pranks? That would be daring and impious indeed. No, no, never
fret thyself, man; I love a pretty woman myself, and I never desire any
better usage in this world than as I do unto others to be done unto
myself.”
Turning to politics, Terrae Filius summed up the attitude of the
authorities in Oxford in one short paragraph--which was made a hundred
times more severe by his assertion upon honour that religion received the
same treatment at their hands.
“In politics my advice is the same as in religion--not to let your upstart
reason domineer over you, and say you must obey this king or that king; or
you must be of this party, or that party; instead of that, follow your
leaders; observe the cue, which they give you; speak as they speak; act as
they act; drink as they drink, and swear as they swear; comply with
everything which they comply with; and discover no scruples which they do
not discover.”
Upon a Whig and a Tory enquiring what was their exact position, he told
them that one day the Whig might be safe and have things all his own way,
but that the next the certainty of the Tory’s being uppermost was
absolute. Finally he urged upon them that the only safe method of
proceeding was to employ what are called nowadays the Winston tactics--one
side one day, the other the next, according to one’s greater individual
advantage.
He dealt exhaustively with the peculiarly slack method of conducting, or
rather the practical non-existence of, university examinations. On reading
his account alone, it would very naturally be supposed that he was drawing
the long bow, caricaturing the existing conditions out of all shape and
possibility of recognition, and we laugh unreservedly. But further study
of other writers’ criticisms of the times very quickly turns our smile
into a gasp of amazement. Terrae Filius was not caricaturing. All his
absurd and quite impossible relations of bribery and corruption were true.
It is precisely the same with all his papers. He has wisely written them
in the style of caricatures, and at times, no doubt, has indulged his
humour overmuch; but, on going into his inimitable showings up of drinking
and immoral Dons, political conflicts, university statutes, toasts,
smarts, or any one of the innumerable subjects dissected by him, and then
comparing his work with other eighteenth-century documents, one finds that
Terrae Filius carried out his boast and kept to the truth.
Is there any man to-day who, at the age of twenty-four, has achieved such
notoriety, done such brilliant work, and proved himself to be such a
master of his craft?