There is but one theatre in Oxford, and that is directly under the supervision of the Vice-Chancellor, and no play can be performed without his sanction. The programmes are headed “By permission of the Reverend the Vice-Chancellor, and the Right-Worshipful the Mayor.” For Oxford, as a ’Varsity town, is under the control of the head of the University as well as of the Mayor.
The unsophisticated crowd in the gallery always hisses the villain, who is usually the best actor, and applauds the hero, who is often a poor one; but this is usual all through England, and is taken by the heavy villain of the play as a tribute to his genius. Very good entertainments are given as a rule: “The Pirates,” Toole in “The Don,” and the inimitable Corney Grain have appeared among others. The bar is forbidden to sell whiskey to the undergrads, so the call is for “lime-juice,” which answers the same purpose!
I met my old tutor, or coach for “cramming,” in the street to-day, and I have just had him to dine. He is typical—a short, squat man with a heavy, unkempt beard, and with countless lines seaming his face. He has not been out of Oxford for twenty years and spends all his time in coaching backward students. He reminds one in some ways of a ripe and somewhat mouldy Stilton cheese.
His rooms are musty and cobwebby, for he tells me no one has dusted them for two years, as he cannot stand having his papers disturbed. And how he smokes! His pipe rack must hold twenty pipes at least, and most of them are beautifully coloured.
The walks about Oxford are charming and on returning from a long tramp it is delightful to stand on Folly Bridge at dusk and watch the punts and canoes come dropping down the “Char,” or to see a college eight dash swiftly down the Isis to Iffley. The old inn at Godstow, just opposite the ruins of the famous Nunnery, is very quaint; and the fame of Mumby’s cherry brandy is known to all the colleges in Oxford.
The author of “Alice in Wonderland” is a Fellow of Christ Church College, and lives in two rooms looking out over the green old “Quad.” He is fond of children and has them always with him. They tell a droll story of him in Oxford. The Queen enjoyed “Alice” so much that she requested the author, by letter, to send her another of his “charming books.” Much flattered, he forwarded Her Majesty his “Treatise on the Differential Calculus.”
When I was an undergrad it was almost impossible to pay for what one bought in Oxford, for the tradespeople insist on one’s taking long credits—a neat little plan by which they make a good deal in the long run, as they charge heavy interest. Oxford changes little as the years go by. It was lovely spring weather to-day and everyone wandered to the river, through the green Christ Church meadows, just as they have done for hundreds of years and will do in future centuries; and they are wise, for nothing is so delightful on a warm afternoon in June as to take a punt and slowly glide along the Cherwell, or to drop down the Isis in a canoe and take a plunge at “Parson’s Pleasure.”
Descriptions of College life at Oxford have been done to death and it is hardly worth while to go over the well-worn ground. “The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green” still give a fair idea of ’Varsity life, and “Tom Brown” is as good to-day as when it was written.
The contrast between American and English college life is sharply marked. A short experience of Yale made me enjoy Oxford all the more. There is no class spirit, but the tone in the twenty-odd colleges—each a small Yale—is more athletic and more Commencement-de-siècle in every way.