Nobody must carry a cross-bow, and a hawk for fowling.
"The Statute goes on to forbid the boys—I beg pardon, the 'men!'—from the use of hawks for fowling, and from the carrying of cross-bows and 'Bombardarum' (necnon ab omni apparatu et gestatione Bombardarum, et arcubalistarum; sive etiam accipitrum usu ad aucupium). Now, I am aware that the old noble sport of hawking is being revived, because I take in The Field (for, of course, I look upon myself as a 'country gentleman,' and do everything that country gentlemen ought to do), and in The Field I sometimes read about it; and I suppose the Oxford gentlemen are assisting in the revival. But, in the name of wonder, Mr. Punch, what can be meant by 'Bombardarum?' Has it anything to do with your Austrian friend 'Bomba?' Or does it mean that the young men must not carry about mortars for the discharge of bombs, or battering-rams, or some 'bombarding' implement 'of that ilk?' But no. 'Town and Gown' disturbances can never need such warlike preparations as these. I suppose I must write to your facetious contemporary Notes and Queries, and ask what 'Bombardarum' really does mean; for no Latin Dictionary that I have access to is able to inform me. Really, Mr. Punch, my Lord Chancellor Derby ought to publish either a translation of the Statutes of his University or a dictionary of these 'Oxford mixture' phrases, 'canino Anglico Latine reddita:' for how can young men be expected to obey Statutes which are made up of words of which the meaning can only be conjectured? And if, Mr. Punch, you take up the cudgels for the Oxford Statutes, and tell me that they are thus purposely framed, and after the fashion of the Statutes of the country, I beg to observe that the seat of learning ought to be stuffed with other stuff than that which fills the woolsack, and that the framers of its laws should not be like the noble and versatile Lord of the Upper House, to whom we might say, in the words of Coleridge:—
"'You can utter, with a solemn gesture,
Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning,
Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics!'[4]
"The statutes next call upon the matriculating candidate to swear that he will keep aloof from all rope-dancers and actors, and from the strifes and shows of—gladiators! (Item quod, intra Universitatem Oxoniensem aut Præcinctum, absque speciali veniá Vice-Cancellarii, nec Funambuli nec Histriones, qui quæstús causâ in Scenam prodeunt, nec Gladiatorum certamina sive spectacula permittantur; nec Academici eisdem intersint.) Good gracious, Mr. Punch! is this the nineteenth century—is Punch an institution of our land; have we got a Camp at Chobham, and a Fleet at Spithead, or are we Rip Van Winkles in an inverse degree, who have slept backwards into the past? My brain is fairly muddled, Sir, with the thought that I am about to send my son Peterloo to a place which I had fondly imagined to be the centre of all enlightenment, and which I now find retains the barbarities of the darkest ages. I don't object to the rope-dancers and actors—although I might perhaps be inclined to ask why Shakspeare, and Sheridan, and Bulwer-Lytton should be condemned as improper; and Plautus, Terence, and Juvenal decided to be the only pure and proper dramatic guides of youth—I don't object, I say, to my lad going to see the rope-dancing and acting, but I do decidedly object to his even having a chance of obtaining 'the special permission of the Vice-Chancellor' to be present at such degrading exhibitions as the 'sports of the Gladiators.' I shudder to think (and so does Mrs. Brown, Sir), that my lad, who has been so carefully brought up, will really 'see before him the Gladiator lie, his manly form all cover'd o'er with wounds;' and that he will, perhaps—(I can assure you, Sir, that Mrs. Brown is obliged to have recourse to her smelling salts at the bare thought of such horrors)—that he will perhaps set his own slave (or scout) to fight for his amusement, and, like those frightful Romans that he is obliged to read about, will be turning up his thumbs to give the dreadful signal for his wretched servant's death! I must really pause a moment to recover my equanimity. Yet a bright thought strikes me! Perhaps, after all, Mr. Punch, these gladiatorial exhibitions are only intended to assist the students in their classical pursuits, the mind being, we know, often more speedily instructed through an appeal to the eye. And this idea is supported by the words of the Statute that the Students must not be present at such shows without the special permission of the Vice-Chancellor. For, of course, if there are no gladiatorial exhibitions in Oxford, the candidates for matriculation would not be required to take oaths about them.
