[-344-]
CHAPTER XXVII
THE JUBILEE COMMEMORATION AT OXFORD
AFTER the turmoil and fatigue of Jubilee
week in London, it was pleasant to get into the country, if only for a few days.
The Commemoration exercises at Oxford on the 30th of June were of especial
interest, and I had looked forward to the event with many pleasant
anticipations. In addition to the ordinary programme, degrees were conferred
upon the colonial premiers who were guests of honor at the annual fete which was
held in the gardens of Wadham College. The day reminded me of the usual
commencement day at any American University-clear and hot with haymaking in
progress in the fields along which we passed. I had gone to Banbury first, to
spend the night with friends, returning with them to Oxford the following day.
The streets of the fine old town were comparatively empty,
contrary to expectation, the undergraduates having been rather surfeited with
the preceding week's entertainments - a brilliant succession of breakfasts,
luncheons, dinners and boat races-and hundreds of them had gone home. Here and
there, in the open windows of their tastefully furnished chambers, both in
lodgings through the town, and of apartments looking out upon the peaceful
quadrangle of the grey old colleges-were the bright faces of their sisters and
their girl friends; and we also had fleeting glimpses of books and pictures, the
paraphernalia of sport, and other possessions which undergraduates gather around
them, whatever their na-[-345-]tionality. There
appeared to be a great rivalry in window-gardens, and every window-sill was a
bank of brilliant flowers, so that the walls, already green with ivy, seemed to
have spontaneously burst forth into blossom. A few of the men-as the young
undergraduates call themselves - those who had lingered after their mates had
gone, strolled along on the shady side of High street, each hat encircled with a
ribbon band - the college colors of the wearer. Prior to assisting in the
programme fixed for the day we looked through what is known as "The
Schools" -a fine new building in which the examinations are held.
There are a number of large well-lighted rooms, and the
corridors are finished in beautiful marble from many parts of the world; lapis
lazuli from Labrador, as iridiscent as an opal, having been employed in the
decorations, with fine effect. The ceilings were set in squares of marble, each
elaborately carved, a work which was then being slowly completed.
The rooms in which the examinations were held contained a
number of small, plain deal tables, much splashed with ink, and there were also
great blotches of the same liquid on the matting-covered floor. On several of
the tables were bundles of quills, for this is a region, like the Law Courts,
still uninvaded by the fountain pen and other pernicious modern innovations.
At one side, upon a canopied dais in each roam, was a stately
chair of carved oak where the presiding official sat enthroned while the
examinations were in progress; his elevated seat giving him an excellent view of
the men ranged before him.
Judging from the amount of ink that had been spilled, and the
spirited sketches on the tables, the struggle of many of the candidates must
have been a severe one. There were bold and shameless caricatures of the dons; [-346-]
pictures of dogs; of men in boating dress; of female heads, and, with
these, legends more or less appropriate. One troubled and discomfited soul had
thus parodied Gray's Elegy:
"Homeward the ploughed man plods
his weary way."
Another had scrawled concisely and significantly:
"Ploughed in history."
Still another had written:
"Ploughed, June 22nd; what a
Jubilee!"
This verse was indicative of a spirit less gloomy:
"There was a young man warden of
Merton
Who went into hall with no shirt on;
When asked if twas wise
To appear in that guise
'Saves washin',' said the warden of
Merton."
In the corridors below, near the entrance, lists had been
posted the names of those who had successfully passed their examinations; and
the undergraduates, in twos and threes strolled in, read them and strolled out
again.
It is said that at the conferring of degrees the part
performed by the undergraduates has now become a mere spiritless imitation of
former days, and it is considered scarcely amusing.
The exercises were held in the Sheldonian theatre, the main
body of which was set aside for distinguished visitors and guests; while the
undergraduates and their friends were remanded to the galleries. As the
appointed hour approached, the bustle of the arriving audience increased; and
stout matrons, dignified fathers and the pretty cousins and sisters of the young
men, were con-[-347-]ducted to their seats and sat
looking about them and talking in undertones, commenting on the place and the
audience.
The procession of University dignitaries marched in with the
distinguished guests of the day, and occupied the seats reserved for them; it
was headed by the Vice- Chancellor in his scarlet gown, followed by the doctors
of divinity in scarlet robes with sleeves of black velvet; doctors of law in
scarlet and rose-colored, with the masters of arts in plain black cap and gown;
with them appeared the Mayor of Oxford in his official dress and wearing his
gold chain. The center of observation was Sir Wilfrid Laurier, the Canadian
Premier, who had been received with great enthusiasm wherever he was present
during the week of the Jubilee. His finely cut features, smooth face and long,
waving hair gave him an appearance of great refinement and intellectuality, a
somewhat ascetic type, strikingly different from the more florid and heavily
bearded faces of the Englishmen seated near him. The addresses were in Latin-the
old sonorous Latin of the monks-and it was pleasing to realize that the
mannerisms of our western schools were unknown in this great university. What we
call "Continental Latin," Oxford has scorned as art affectation, an
outcome of the so-called aesthetic movement of twenty years ago.
On Commemoration Day what at other times would be regarded as
common propriety is thrown to the winds; latitude is given the undergraduates
which has no parallel anywhere in the United States; it might be regarded as the
annual reaction, which is permitted once in the year, against the punctilious
subordination that prevails at other times.
The dons, whom they must properly recognize, and who are
properly respected on most occasions but this, are apparently "paid
off," to use the English phrase, and it is [-348-] a
wiping out of old scores that is accepted with the utmost good humor; a species
of what American students would call "getting even," although it is
devoid of ill-nature and there is nothing in it approaching mean revenge. It is
certain, however, that it is a pretty severe sort of chaffing; a good many of
the comments strike home with unerring aim. The well-known foibles of the
victims are mercilessly exposed, and all this is done with the politeness of
Chesterfield and in the most polished and admirable diction, varied only by apt
quotations from the Music hall lore of the moment.
The effect, to an American, is startling. The parenthetic
remarks from the galleries, where it is impossible to identify the speaker,
breaking in upon the flowing periods, the musical Latin of the orators-men of
the highest social and official position and of the profoundest learning.
For example, it was pretty well understood that a gentleman
present expected knighthood in the award of Jubilee honors, and one of the
speakers was suddenly interrupted by a voice:
"That is quite enough, thanks. We should now be pleased
to hear from Mr. D-."
There was strong emphasis on the "Mr." which served
to remind that disappointed gentleman and the audience, as well, of the title
which had been withheld. This audacious speech was seconded by some one else who
remarked:
"Speak up Mr. D.- we are not quite able to hear
you."
"Perhaps Mrs. D- will oblige."
The latter remark was not approved; "dragging her in"
was considered unfair and rather beyond the limits of even Commemoration Day
indulgence.
As one of the stateliest of the candidates moved for-[-349-]ward
to the platform, another fresh young voice quoted cheerfully and gaily, the
Empire ditty:
"Now we shan't be long."
How the orators could keep their countenance and continue
speaking in the midst of these disconcerting and often very funny interruptions
was puzzling; but they knew what they must expect and were in a certain degree
prepared; at any rate, it was a forcible proof of their powers of concentration,
and of their dignity, acquired and inbred.
The exercises at the theatre were followed by a splendid
luncheon in the hall at All Souls', and in the afternoon by the fete which began
at half past three. The gardens of Wadham which had been selected for the
occasion, were beautiful and extensive, but they lacked the water-view which
adds so greatly to the attractions of Magdalen and other colleges. The scene was
most charming, and the grounds, with their velvet lawns, trees and shrubbery,
with glimpses of the walls and spires of the adjacent colleges, was a fitting
and harmonious setting for the picture. The dignitaries of the college again
appeared in their scarlet robes, silken hoods, and adornments of ermine; here
and there was an Indian Prince, his European dress modified by his white or
bright colored turban; a pretty Indian Princess in draperies of gauze and a veil
of thin yellow tissue, which became her admirably, sat surrounded by her
friends, looking on with childish delight. In addition to all these more
conspicuous figures, were the ordinary folk, men in morning dress,
irreproachably gloved, with the inevitable top hat, the innovation of the Prince
of Wales not yet having disturbed the conservatism of Oxford; ladies gaily
attired in light silks and muslins, hats and bonnets covered with flowers,
carrying red, blue, white and yellow parasols which, in the sunshine brightened
the lawns with unusual [-350-] and ever-changing
color. There was the inevitable luncheon of ices, cakes, strawberries, grapes,
claret-cup and lemonade which was served under a marquee, while elsewhere tea,
coffee, bread and butter were provided those who preferred plainer fare.
The animation of an English gathering is scrupulously subdued
on such occasions; people strolled about or sat in groups talking in low
agreeable voices, or listened critically to the music, a delightful band being
stationed in one part of the gardens, while elsewhere a quartette of male voices
sang old glees and ballads.
The Vice Chancellor was the central figure of the fete, a man
of remarkable distinction and dignity, and Bishops and other clergy were largely
represented, each distinguishable by his hood, bands or sleeves. The Mayor who
was present at the fete with his wife, was respectfully and cordially greeted on
every side and invariably addressed as "Mr. Mayor. In England a title is a
title, and it is on no account ever forgotten.
From the moment a man is knighted he is addressed as
"Sir" and his wife as "Lady," and there is none of the
awkward "getting used to it" that would inevitably follow with
us-stumbling and jumbling together the new and the old- "Mr" - "Sir,"
or "Mrs." - "Lady." A title is highly valued and to withhold
the proper address, once it is acquired, is looked upon as a species of
injustice and lack of breeding; its instantaneous and unerring recognition is
one more evidence of the exactitude of the British mind.
I had the great pleasure of being introduced to Dr. R-, the
head of the Oxford University Extension movement, which has been so successful
and which is yearly widening its usefulness, both in Great Britain and the
United States. Dr. R- spoke With much pleasure of the movement in America, where
its advancement had far ex-[-351-]ceeded anything
that could have been hoped for it, and he gave me some information as to
meetings that were to be held the first week in August, at which many Americans
were expected to be present.
At half past five the crowd began to thin, carriages and cabs
that had been waiting at the college entrance driving rapidly away with the
departing guests.
It has been charged that the English Universities - Oxford
especially - have not been sufficiently popular to exert the influence upon the
masses which their great wealth and their almost limitless resources might
enable them to do. While watching the stately figures of the officials, the
doctors and dons, strolling about, and listening to the chimes from the college
towers that broke through the strains of music, I could not help recalling the
terrible arraignment of Thomas Hardy - the despairing and futile struggle of one
poor creature who starved and perished from lack of knowledge that was denied
him.
As we, too, drove away, the recollection was intensified by
the sight of a man's face at a window, with a trio of little children about him,
watching with wistful eyes the departure of the guests from the college
entrance. But there was also the hopeful reflection that the time must come,
without the shadow of a doubt, when the good things of this life, mental and
spiritual, as well as material, shall be the portion of no favored class; but
the righteous reward of the human being who proves himself worthy of their
possession.
At no time in the history of mankind had this broad and
benevolent spirit made such progress as during the reign of the sovereign, the
anniversary of whose succession had just been celebrated here as elsewhere, with
universal rejoicing. The years that had been full of honor to her, had brought
corresponding blessings to her people; [-352-] and,
while want and ignorance and misery still survived, it was not the hopeless
suffering and degradation that had prevailed in preceding reigns.
The great University, the fountain source of national wisdom,
had thrown down many of its barriers, and its rich opportunities were being
placed within reach of all who sought to profit by them. From the gardens, still
flooded with sunshine and filled with cheerful voices, came the familiar strains
of the national hymn; and, as we thought of the bright promise of the future,
the protection for the down-trodden, the relief for the distressed which is the
gospel of the new dispensation, the essence of modern civilization, we too
echoed with profoundest sincerity its benediction: "God Save the
Queen."
THE END.