OXFORD CATHEDRAL AND THE UNIVERSITY: The Essence of England (16)

[This is the sixteenth of a series of articles giving a brief description of each of the 26 ancient Anglican cathedrals coupled with a sketch of a person, activity or

institution connected to the area]

Oxford Cathedral is the cathedral of the diocese of Oxford covering 3 counties. It is also, uniquely, the chapel of Christ Church, one of the largest and most distinguished colleges of the University of Oxford of which the cathedral is an essential part.

Entrance to Cathedral from Tom Quad, Christ Church

 While Oxford is the smallest ancient English cathedral, it is very fine. Originally a priory, the choir, tower and transepts were built in the Norman manner with Perpendicular features added later. A lovely pendant vault was raised over the Norman chancel in the late 15^th century. Cardinal Wolsey acquired the priory in 1524 intending to integrate it into his planned College, demolishing part of the Nave. Henry VIII seized it from Wolsey and refounded the Cathedral and College in 1546.

Oxford Cathedral interior and pendant vault

Christ Church has been the College of many famous Englishmen, politicians like Gladstone, philosophers like Locke and writers like Ruskin including a total of 13 Prime Ministers. The Cathedral has many memorials to such men and reflects the power and intellect of the aristocracy and the privileged in past English society.

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The University of Oxford is a federation of 38 self governing and independent colleges and 8 permanent Halls (mainly religious training colleges). Departmental facilities, teaching staff and syllabuses are organised by a central administration under the Vice-Chancellor. The first record of teaching at Oxford dates from 1096 and the University is the oldest in the English-speaking world and the second oldest surviving university in the world, after Paris. The University receives large sums of public money but is “private” in the sense that it could continue on its own were it to decide to forego government funding.

While there are several University buildings, the loyalties of all undergraduates (first degree students) are focussed on their own College. The Colleges have been founded and endowed since medieval times by a succession of benefactors and often bear their names (Balliol, Merton, Pembroke, Hertford etc) or have religious connotations (Christ Church, Trinity, Magdalen, All Souls, St John’s etc). Historically Oxford was a stronghold of the Anglican Church and was known for its Tory, not to say reactionary views. It still has an Establishment air about it, although it is now very diverse and the wider admission of ladies has leavened the unyielding male lump.

The Radcliffe Camera, now a History Library

Each College has its own distinctive ethos and culture and it is a mistake to generalise too much about Oxford University life. I had the good fortune to be “up at Oxford” fifty years ago from 1961 to 1964 and I can only share my own experiences.

My own college was St Edmund Hall (known as “Teddy Hall” or “The Hall”), an oddity in Oxford in that it was the only surviving medieval teaching Hall (“Aula”) dating from 1278, if not earlier: it became for centuries a dependency of The Queens College, becoming independent in 1937 and a fully-fledged College in 1958. Its earliest surviving buildings date from the 17^th century and its atmosphere is cosily domestic.

St Edmund Hall, Oxford

In my time the college had a sporty reputation, with many famous rugby players and oarsmen as alumni and also a thespian flowering – Python Terry Jones and US drama director Mike Rudman were exact contemporaries. The Hall spirit was embodied in its long-serving Principal Canon John Kelly, a Scot by origin, who devoted 62 years of his life to the Hall.

Principal John Kelly

A distinguished Patristic scholar, Kelly was a vivid Oxford character, a mean squash player and confirmed bachelor, who would warn his charges, with his typical Oxford lisp, “English women, my boy, are the unpaid prothtitutes of Europe”, an opinion which mercifully predated the admission of women to his beloved Hall.

Although my first love was History, I entered the Hall to read Law. My enthusiasm for Law did not last long; I recall attending my first lecture on criminal law by the don Peter Glazebrook who pronounced “The criminal Law of England is a scandal and disgrace”. I quickly enough moved to reading Politics, Philosophy and Economics. The tutors were much more congenial; gentle, soft-spoken but acute John Dunbabin steered me through the swamps of politics: I staggered from brilliant Justin Gosling’s weekly philosophy tutorials, my feeble brain addled, moaning at the profundity of the discussion (Gosling became Principal in due course): I loved the economic history tutorials with rumbustuous Australian Max Hartwell at Nuffield College.

Do not suppose that the academic life wholly engrossed me. A callow Scots youth, I soon learned how to play darts (“arrows”) and sink numerous pints of beer at the convivial Oxford pubs, like the Eastgate, Bear or Golf, with my lively friends. We happily patronised the cinema (“the scopes”) enhancing the pleasure with witty catcalls and cheers at the moment critique. A hitherto cloistered public schoolboy, I discovered the amazing and baffling world of women, soon to become a life’s study.

The Pleasures of Punting at Oxford

 We would lazily watch cricket at the Parks, marvelling at the elegance of the University captain the Indian Nawab of Pataudi as he effortlessly stroked the ball to the boundary. We would sit reading in the scented Botanical Garden. We would stroll through Christ Church Meadow to get to the River Cherwell, perhaps like me to participate incompetently at some junior college rowing, but certainly to cheer on the often triumphant Hall boat at Torpids or at Eights Week.

The other river pleasure was punting, by no means an easy skill, but a delightful summer pastime. The May Morning gathering below Magdalen Bridge with a choir singing at daybreak always seemed a chilly occasion to me, but in high summer few events can rival the pleasures of punting with a modest bottle of wine and a picnic.

All good things come to an end and, after three years and valedictory college balls, I had to turn my back on the delightful sights of the High, the Turl and St Giles. I took my Finals, earned a deservedly rather pedestrian degree, collected it in due course at Wren’s Sheldonian Theatre and entered the real world.

The Sheldonian Theatre

 It was a nasty shock, but in time I made my way in the City. My friends and contemporaries distinguished themselves in a variety of callings – economist Andrew Graham became Master of Balliol, Sir Nick Lloyd a busy Fleet Street editor and Sir Stanley Brunton became a Lord Justice of Appeal. Dozens of others enriched the life of their communities. Many are firm friends 50 years on.

Oxford University is a tremendous institution and one of England’s glories. Those who had the opportunity to make contact with superior minds there and who had the privilege to live amid its lovely buildings will always treasure the place. A flame is lit in the intellect which can never be extinguished.

SMD

16.11.12

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2012