Oxford Days. Frederic Edward Weatherly

neither Fellows nor Scholars, and therefore not entitled to wear surplices. This was the strict order for Sundays, and other high days; on other days every one wore the black gown of his respective degree, with the single exception of the Fellow who did chaplain’s duty for the week; for at Paul’s there was no permanent chaplain. The first lesson was read by one of the Scholars, the second by one of the Fellows, the prayers by the chaplain, the Communion Service by the Master. There was no sermon; the intention being that each undergraduate should attend “prayers” in his own particular college-chapel, and afterwards hear a sermon preached in the University-church to the members of the University in common. The list of those who attend chapel is kept at Paul’s by the Bible-clerk, at some colleges by the chapel-porter. The Bible-clerk’s further duties are to find the lessons, to read them in the possible absence of the proper person, and to say grace in Hall.

      A man may lose caste by becoming a Bible-clerk, but it is by no means necessary that he should. A cad (and there are many at Oxford) distinctly degrades the post, and makes it shunned. A man wavering between good sets and bad sets may possibly lose what little footing he has in the former. But a thorough gentleman (it seems hardly necessary to say so, except to disabuse many of their prejudices) need not, and does not in the slightest degree, lower himself by holding such a position. The emoluments amount (in money and allowances) often to 80l. per annum; at Paul’s, 75l.; but what makes the post so especially valuable, from a pecuniary point of view, is that it can be held with a Scholarship and an Exhibition. The Bible-clerk at Paul’s during Frank’s first two years was holding a Scholarship of the value of 60l., an Exhibition from his school of the value of 50l.; so that, with his clerkship of 75l., his income amounted to 185l., for the academical year of six months. And he was one of the most popular men in the college.

      From him Frank learnt that he would have to read the first lesson in chapel for six consecutive days in his turn; but that, being a freshman, his turn would not come for some time yet.

      On returning to his rooms he found his breakfast laid, the kettle simmering, and letters lying on the table; one from home; the rest, the circulars that flatter the freshman’s dignity, and coax him into becoming a customer.

      The foundation breakfast consists of bread, butter, and milk, and in some colleges two eggs. These articles are brought by the scouts from the buttery, and entered by the buttery-clerk to the respective undergraduates. The bread, butter, and milk are distributed in “commons,” the rate charged being above that of tradesmen outside college, and the quantity being, in the case of most men, certainly too much for one meal. The remains belong to the scout.

      Fish, poultry, meat (and for luncheon, pastry), are supplied from the kitchen. For some items the charges are reasonable, for others exorbitant. Naturally, therefore, it is in “kitchen-orders” that the careful student can economize, if only he can stand against the Oxford custom, fostered by the scouts, of ordering too much. For at least three days in the week the two customary eggs, with bread and butter, are surely enough for breakfast, a kitchen-order being thereby avoided. The too common habit, however, is to discard the eggs (paid for, it must be remembered, whether eaten or not), and eat meat. It is quite conceivable that, after one breakfast on one staircase where eight men live, the scout may put into his basket sixteen eggs.

      Tea, coffee, chocolate, cocoa, sugar, and so on, are in some colleges procurable from the Common-room-stores, an establishment resembling an Italian warehouse and wine-and-spirit-vault combined. Custom, if not college regulations, will compel the undergraduate to deal with the Common-room-man.

      At Paul’s there is no such establishment, but William very kindly supplied the deficiency by ordering in, from one of the nearest—and dearest—grocers, a good stock of tea (at 4s. 6d. per pound, of course), coffee, candles, matches, scented soap, biscuits, jam, marmalade, till Frank was quite bewildered at the thought of the room necessary for storing these delicacies. However, they did not last long.

      One of the most iniquitous and yet plausible practices is that pursued at some colleges—Paul’s among the number—of compelling undergraduates to deal at certain shops.

      Anything in the way of paper, paint, or furniture, has to be procured at one of the shops attached to the college. These are invariably the dearest, charging for their goods 25 and 30 per cent. more than the many other establishments which struggle against these monopolies.

      The reason given by the college authorities for this system is that they are obliged to exercise some principle of selection of the workmen allowed within the college walls, indiscriminate admission being open to risk. The reason is plausible enough, but it is based entirely on the supposition that the workmen employed by expensive firms alone are honest. Further, what risk could there be in the conveyance of a piece of furniture to the college gates, when its removal to the rooms of the purchaser would be the work of the college servants?

      The only method of avoiding the tyranny of the system is to employ one of the railway carriers. The college porter, on the presumption that the article has come by rail from the undergraduate’s home, is obliged to admit it.

      Anything like opposition to the regulation appears at present to be useless. One daring undergraduate at Paul’s, who ventured to remonstrate with his college dean (the authority in such matters), was met with this characteristic answer:—“It is our system. If you don’t like it, the college gates are open. You can remove your name from the college books. We won’t detain you.”—an answer perfectly admissible from the proprietor of any establishment, but insolent and unwarrantable from one who, after all, is but an administrator in a corporate institution.

      And so it would be possible to go on and enumerate many instances in which not only custom among his companions, but college regulations compel the undergraduate to be extravagant and wasteful. Homes are crippled, younger brothers and sisters deprived of the education which is their due, and the much-vaunted University extension limited by the very administration of the bodies that ought, and do profess, to foster it. Questions of domestic economy are ignored by the various commissions, though they lie at the very root of University extension. Let additional Scholarships be founded to enable more students to come to the University; let additional teaching power be endowed with professorships, lectureships, and readerships, by all means; but let perquisites be pruned down; let the enormous profits of catering cooks and butlers be decreased; let room-rent be lowered; let “servants’ dues” pay the servants, and not need to be supplemented by charges which never appear in the college accounts; let trade be free in the town; let every man buy where he pleases; that is the way to extend the benefits of University education—that is the way to enable those to profit by it who are at present debarred—that is the way to enable families, which now struggle to send one son to the University, to send two for an equivalent outlay. There can be no doubt of the unnecessary waste and extravagance in the domestic economy of the colleges when it is remembered that though collegiate life, based as it is on communistic principles, ought to be cheaper than any other form of student life, as a matter of fact it is considerably more expensive.

      To return to Frank’s breakfast. He found some difficulty in boiling his eggs and making his tea. But he concealed his ignorance and ate the eggs, and drank his tea like dish-water.

      About a quarter to ten some one banged at his door, and entered with the bang. The visitor was Crawford, of Brasenose, an old school-fellow of Frank’s, who had gone up about three years previously.

      “Hullo, young man! not finished breakfast yet!”

      His cheery greeting was delightful to Frank, who felt he had in him a true friend.

      A man about three years senior to a freshman—what a power, for good or evil, he has! His seniority inspires reverence and commands imitation. Luckily, Crawford was a thoroughly sterling fellow. He had come to Oxford in earnest. When he worked he worked; when he played he played. There was the same vigour in his work as in his “stroke” on the river or “rush” at football. He kept chapels regularly; he said, because morning-chapel gave him a long day. There was a more earnest reason concealed behind this; but he had a horror of the dangers of cant. He knew what lectures were worth attending, and attended them. He ridiculed and cut the worthless. He knew who were the best “coaches,” and said so. He abused the charlatans. In