QUEEN'S
Queens's College was founded about 1340, in complement to Philippa, Queen of Edward III., "to the Honor of God, to the Profit and Furtherance of the Church, and to the Salvation of Souls"; especially to the salvation of the souls of the natives of the counties of Westmoreland and Cumberland. Philippa was a good queen and a good woman; and other queens, Regnant and Consort, good and bad, as queens and as women—Elizabeth, Henrietta Maria, Caroline and Charlotte—have been benefactresses of the institution, in small ways and big, although the late Queen, certainly a good woman and a good queen, does not seem to have interested herself particularly in Queen's.
Some of the early rules formed for the guidance of the inmates of Queen's will be of interest, perhaps, to the students of later-day colleges. As they sat at table, before them was to be read the Bible by a Chaplain, to whom they were to pay attention, and not prevent his being heard, by loquacity or shouting. At table they were to speak "modeste," and in French or Latin, unless in obedience to the law of politeness, when they were permitted to converse with a visitor in his own language. It would be pleasant to hear, at a training-table, now, for instance, modest conversation either in Latin or French. Harriers, hounds, hawks, and other such alliterative animals, were not to be kept in the Hall or its precincts, by any of the undergraduates. All sorts of "games of dice, chess, and others, giving opportunity of losing money, were prohibited, especially dice and other similar games, which gave occasion for strife, and often beggary to the player." And, above all, the use of musical instruments was forbidden within the College, except during the hours of general refreshment; such being likely to produce levity and insolence, and to afford occasion for distraction from study. This, naturally, did not apply to the musical instruments employed in the chapel service, to the shooting of pistols out of the windows on the occasion of a foot-ball victory, to the blowing of horns and the firing of cannon-crackers on the occasion of a circus-parade, or to the banjo and the mandolin on the Campus, during Commencement Week, as is the present custom in American colleges: but it seems to have been pretty hard on the students, who are generally so peculiarly gifted in vocal and in instrumental ways.
We are told that the Provost, Fellows, and Scholars of Queen's still keep up the ancient academic system of dining; and that to this day, on every Christmas is produced a boar's head, with a lemon in its mouth, in great and antique style, although nothing seems to be done, officially, with the rest of the boar. Aubrey, in his time, explained that the head being boiled, or roasted, was laid on a large charger, covered with a garland of bays or laurels; a famous song, too long to find place here, was sung by the entire company; and then, to quote a more modern catch, the elephant appears to have marched around and the band to have begun to play. Tradition, according to a foot-note in Wade's "Walks in Oxford," declares that this serving of the boar's head commemorated an act of valor on the part of a student of the College, name and date not given, who while strolling studiously in the neighboring forest of Shotover, and reading Aristotle, was suddenly encountered by the monarch of a herd of wild swine. The furious beast, we are told, came upon him open mouthed, and was as suddenly conquered by the thrusting of the volume into his ravenous gullet; the savage being fairly choked by the sage. Why do we not have Aristotles in our hands, in these present days, to silence the bores we meet, in our quads and on our campuses? Alas, there are more bores than Aristotles. And most of our students find themselves bored by Aristotle himself.
"While we are on the subject of Old Customs," added Mr. Wade, "we are also reminded of another, also peculiar to this College. On the morning of every New Year's Day, the Bursar presents to each member of the Society a needle and thread, accompanying his gift with the injunction, 'Take this, and be thrifty.'"
There are things to be learned from Queen's, in Oxford. Threads and needles are almost as unfamiliar in some colleges to-day as are Aristotles.
Mr. Wood is responsible for the statement that "The Dramatist of the Restoration," William Wycherly, became a Fellow Commoner of Queen's a short time before the return of the Second Charles to his kingdom. "He wore not a gown," says the chronicler, "only lived in the Provost's lodgings, was entered in the Public Library as a Student of Philosophy, in 1660, being then about twenty; and departed without being matriculated, or a degree conferred upon him."
Addison went from the Charterhouse to Queen's in 1687, when he was fifteen years of age; and there he remained two years, when, as we have seen, certain Latin verses of his led to the offer of what is called a "Demieship" at Magdalen.
Thomas Tickell entered Queen's in 1701, and obtained a Fellowship in 1710, when he was called by Hearne "a pretender to poetry, who was put over the heads of better scholars." In 1711 he was Professor of Poetry, when, still according to Hearne, "his first lecture was a very indecent performance, by an empty-headed, vain pretender without any learning—who, as a vain, conceited coxcomb, was author of a silly, weekly paper called 'The Surprise.'" That Hearne was, sometimes, a little bitter and, perhaps, a little unjust in his epithets will be seen later.
Tickell resigned his Fellowship upon his marriage in 1726.
William Collins was at Queen's from 1740 until 1741; but, like Addison, he obtained a" Demieship" at Magdalen, where the better, and the more important, part of his University life was spent.
Jeremy Bentham, the Jurist, after an unusually precocious youth, was sent to Queen's in 1760, and at the mature age of twelve. But he left college with very few pleasant recollections, and he found but little to interest him, either in the studies or in the amusements of the institution. He declared in after years, that the only effects, the only sure effects, of an English University education were mendacity and insincerity!
While at Queen's he wrote what was naturally an insincere and mendacious "Ode on the Death of George II. and the Accession of George III.," which Dr. Johnson said was "a very pretty performance of a young man"; but which Bentham himself, after the deliberation of maturity, pronounced to be a "mediocre performance on a trumpery subject, written by a miserable child." The Georges, Second and Third, certainly were trumpery subjects!
Bentham took his degree of B. A. at the age of eighteen, and he left Oxford in 1767. The only picture of his personal appearance at this period which has been handed down to us, represents him as "walking from Oxford to Farringdon in a peagreen coat and green silk breeches, bitterly tight." The description, as contained in the last two words, is a little vague; but it is to be inferred that the green garments were tight, not the wearer of them!
William Mitford the Historian, although four years older than Bentham, entered Queen's a year later. He neglected the ordinary studies, he left before Bentham left, and without a degree, his chief attainments being great physical strength and general physical good looks. He and Bentham belonged to the same breakfast-club, and, naturally, were thrown much together, although Bentham has put on record the fact that he, at that time, looked upon Mitford's conversation as being commonplace.
Francis Jeffrey also went down from Queen's without a degree. He remained in the College from September, 1791, until July, 1792, and he left because he disliked the place, and found his companions uncongenial. He was diminutive of stature; and walking was the only physical exercise in which he indulged. All he gained at Queen's, we are told by one of his contemporaries, "was to overcome the native burr of his speech, and to acquire, in its place, an unpleasing English accent, high-keyed and sharp in pronunciation." This, with an extreme rapidity of utterance, which he never more than partially overcame, always marred his oratory.
Walter Pater entered Queen's as a Commoner in 1858; and he was coached by Benjamin Jowett, who prophesied that the youth had a mind which would bring him to great eminence. Jowett was quite right, but the youth gained his eminence as a man at Brazenose, of which he was a Fellow for many years.
The members of St. Edmund Hall, as being so near to Queen's, not only in locality but in association, may be considered here. Nothing but the narrow Queen's Lane divides them in space, and they are admitted to the lectures given in, or connected with, Queen's.
The Hall is said to have derived its name from St. Edmund, an Archbishop of Canterbury, in the reign of Henry III., who delivered lectures in certain schools on the same site, from 1219 to 1226, and who for that, or for other good reasons, was canonized by one of the Popes.
The Hall itself was established not many years later; although the present buildings are much more modern.
One of the best known of the members of St. Edmund was the Historical Antiquary, Thomas Hearne, who spent nearly all his life in Oxford, and who left his mark on its men and its manners. From the very beginning of his undergraduate career, in 1696, he showed studious tastes and literary habits. For many years he was a hard and conscientious worker in the Bodleian in various capacities, up to Under-keeper; but he made himself unpopular with the authorities, and the Librarian formally dismissed him from his office in 1716. He resented the loss of his position, and he so put his feelings upon record.
He does not seem to have been a very amiable person, and if he expressed himself as freely in public as he expressed himself privately in his Diary, the lack of good feeling toward him shown by his contemporaries is not surprising. He wrote of one professor as being "a most silly, hot-headed fellow"; of another as "a vain, proud, empty fellow"; and still another he called "Old Smooth Boots," nobody now knows why. He confided to his Journal his impression that the wife of one of his enemies was "remarkable only for the drinking of brandy," and that the wife of another foe "wore the breeches, and managed her husband as his haughty, insolent temper deserved."
One of Hearne's prayers, as showing the strength of his devotion to his ruling passion, still exists among his Promiscuous Manuscripts, and it must be produced here in part. After thanking his Maker for many gracious blessings, he says: "I continually meet with most signal instances of this thy Providence, and one act yesterday, when I unexpectedly met with three old MSS.; for which in a particular manner I return my thanks; beseeching Thee to continue the same protection to me, a poor helpless sinner. Amen!"
After Hearne was retired from the Bodleian he continued to live quietly at St. Edmund Hall, where throughout the rest of his life he carried on his literary work. Mr. Charles A. Boase, who treats of Oxford in the series of "Historic Towns," says that "a favorite walk of Hearne's was to the third house on the left hand after you have passed High Bridge, going toward Worcester College; which was a tavern called Antiquity Hall, with the sign of Whittington and his Cat, but known in earlier times as The Hole in the Wall. Here Hearne met many young gentlemen of Christ Church, and other honest antiquaries to chat over pot and pipe." "Honest," in Hearne's vocabulary, had a political rather than a moral signification; and an "Honest man," as Hearne knew him, might be any sort of a man who was, like Hearne, a Jacobite.
In 1723 Hearne wrote in his Journal: "It hath been an old custom in Oxford for the Scholars of all houses to go to dinner on Shrove Tuesday at ten o'clock, and to supper at four in the afternoon; and it was always followed in Edmund Hall, as long as I have been in Oxford, till yesterday, when they went to dinner at twelve, and to supper at six, nor were there any fritters at dinner, as there used always to be. When laudable old customs alter, 'tis a sign that learning dwindles," he added.
Hearne followed the old, old custom of dying, some twelve years later; and he was carried to the Church of St. Peter's-in-the-East, near St. Edmund Hall, where still he rests.