were partners rather than antagonists. This same system operates to this day.
When a student performed splendidly in his final examinations, this reflected well on him as well as on his tutor and college. Most students obtained an “honours” degree, which was divided into four classes. Only a small percentage of students managed to get a “First” in their examinations. This was equivalent, in the United States, to graduating magna or summa cum laude. Achieving a “Second” was respectable, but a “Third” was cause for dismay. The lowest passing grade was a “Fourth,” which was something the recipient might try to hide for the rest of his life. Below this were the students who obtained mere pass degrees, those who failed their examinations, and those who departed before completing their studies.
The tutorial system gave great freedom to students. They were in “class” only one or two hours per week. If they wished to do well, they had to discipline themselves through hours of solitary reading and writing in their rooms. Of course, this system also posed great dangers. A carefree student might very well spend his three years sleeping, drinking, and socializing. Or a student might have the misfortune to end up with an unsuitable tutor. Usually a college had only one faculty member for each field of study. Thus, for example, the tutor in modern European history might be a renowned expert in his specialty as well as a caring mentor who worked closely with his students. On the other hand, he could also be a mediocre scholar, a heavy drinker, and an odious tyrant. In the latter case a student could very well be “stuck” for his entire three years. The English born Canadian humorist Stephen Leacock once described the system this way:
…I gather that what an Oxford tutor does is to get a little group of students together and smoke at them. Men who have been systematically smoked at for four years turn into ripe scholars…. A well-smoked man speaks and writes English with a grace that can be acquired in no other way.3
The areas of study for which one could obtain a B.A. degree at the turn of the century were largely the traditional ones that had been the heart of Oxford's greatness. The number one field, both in terms of fame and in the number of students, was Literae Humaniores, or “Greats” as it was called. This was a rigorous program of study in classical Greek and Roman literature, philosophy, and history. Greats was widely considered to be the very best course for the training of the mind. An extraordinarily high percentage of the statesmen and bureaucrats who administered the British Empire were “Greats” men.4 Oxford's other strengths lay in the fields of philosophy, theology, law, modern history, and modern literature. Oxford still looked with skepticism at such new fields as psychology, engineering, and sociology and consequently had few offerings in these areas. In biology, chemistry, and physics Oxford was, by its own admission, far behind the better American universities.
When the forty-three American Rhodes Scholars of 1904 reached Oxford they encountered not only an educational system radically new to them but also a bewildering array of unfamiliar customs and terms. One's teacher was a “tutor.” This tutor usually also was a permanent fellow of the college. These fellows or tutors might also be called “dons.” The academic year was divided into three terms, each of eight weeks. The fall term (October to December) was called “Michaelmas,” the winter term (January to March) was “Hilary,” and the summer term (April to June) was “Trinity.” One did not “major” in a field, but rather “read” it. Final examinations were “Honours Schools” or simply “schools.” If one referred to the college dons as a group or to their meeting rooms, one used the term “SCR” (Senior Common Room). Student government or the main student meeting room was the “JCR” (Junior Common Room). The dons who took meals in the college hall sat at “High Table,” on an elevated platform. Elaborate ceremonies often occurred as the dons entered the hall for a meal. At Queen's College, for example, there were two trumpet blasts, one to the east and one to the west. After dinner in the evening, each college's dons retired to the SCR for coffee, port, sherry, and snuff. The heads of the colleges had their own particular titles: master, warden, principal, dean, president, rector, or provost. A student's non-academic adviser was his “moral tutor.” A student who was temporarily expelled was “rusticated.” The fees owed to a college for room, board, and other charges were “battels.” The area near the college kitchen where one could purchase food supplies for one's room was the “buttery.” When an undergraduate attended evening meal in college, was outside the college after dusk, or went to tutorials, he wore either a commoner's or a scholar's gown. The special outfit worn at matriculation and when taking examinations was “subfusc.” The university police who patrolled the city streets at night to ensure the good behavior of students were “bulldogs.” (Until 1868 the bulldogs had authority over everyone on the streets of Oxford at night. There are stories about them arresting prostitutes and bullying them in Latin.5) Alumni were called “old members,” and alumni reunions were “gaudies.” All students, dons, and other residents of the City of Oxford were “Oxonians.”
If these and other terms were not enough, there were also a myriad of abbreviations, nicknames, and odd pronunciations. St. Edmund Hall, actually a college but called a hall, was “Teddy Hall.” Christ Church was a college but was never called one. Instead, it was usually referred to as “ChCh” or “House.” Hertford College was pronounced “Hartford” or “Harford,” but never “Hurtford.” Magdalen College and the bridge adjacent to it were pronounced “Maud-lin.”-though a couple of blocks away Magdalen Street and the Church of St. Mary Magdalen were “Mag-de-lin.” The similarly named college in Cambridge also was “Mag-de-lin.” One of the two rivers flowing through Oxford was the “Isis” – known as the Thames everywhere else. The other river was the Cherwell – pronounced “Char-well.”
The rowing contests in the early spring were “Torpids,” but the similar races in early summer were “Eights.” All the rowing contests were “bumping races” or “bumps.” (There were too many boats to fit across the narrow Isis, and so the boats were strung out in single file. The aim was to bump the boat in front of one's own, thereby advancing in the standings.) Most of the colleges owned punts, which, like Venetian gondolas, were propelled by long poles. The student in charge of his college's punts was the “admiral of the fleet.” Whereas an American varsity athlete won a “letter,” his counterpart in Oxford won a “blue.” This entitled a student to wear a coveted blue jersey, blue blazer, blue scarf, blue necktie, or blue hat-band. (Oxford was dark blue, Cambridge light blue.) Blues were awarded only to athletes who made the university team for a match against arch-rival Cambridge. A full blue was awarded in cricket, football (i.e., soccer), rugby, rowing, and track. Half-blues were awarded for sports like tennis, golf, boxing, and fencing. A half-blue article of clothing had white stripes over a blue base.
Rhodes Scholars and other foreigners in Oxford might not understand even a word of the ceremonies that occurred at the beginning and end of their years in Oxford. Matriculation and graduation occurred in Christopher Wren's magnificent Sheldonian Theatre. Most of the words uttered by the university's chancellor and other dignitaries were in Latin. Newly arrived Americans would also discover that their class year was determined by the date when they entered Oxford not when they graduated.6
Tradition reigned supreme. A story regarding New College is probably apocryphal yet accurately illustrates the Oxford state of mind. Sometime in the nineteenth century it was discovered that the beams in the roof above the dining hall were full of beetles and rotten. The college council despaired at finding old oak trees that would provide replacements of a suitable caliber. One of the younger fellows ventured to suggest that the college might own forests containing the right kind of trees. (Like several of its counterparts, New College possessed vast tracts of land throughout the country.) College officials contacted their chief forester, who had not visited Oxford for many years. His response went something like, “Well, sirs, we was wonderin' when you'd be askin'.” He then revealed that some years after the college was founded in the fourteenth century a grove of oaks had been planted to replace the beams in the college hall. For over five hundred years the chief foresters had tended the grove, awaiting word that new beams were needed.
Early
