Oxford Without Sherry

Oxonian wits used to say, "At Cambridge they have beer and talk, at Oxford sherry and conversation." But the old saw has lost its teeth: at Oxford last week there was practically no sherry, only a little beer, and not even much talk. Everybody was too busy swotting (Oxonian for hitting the books). It was also a week in which Oxford took one more long step away from its classical past.

The old Oxford had always been a young Oxford, with plenty of time for parties, pranks, and a leisurely "education for the whole man." Now the average undergraduate is 26, with five or six years of Army life behind him. From Oxford he asks "something practical"--a good vocational training rather than an education in the humanities. Oxford's classic Greats (philosophy, Greek & Latin, ancient history), had assumed that everyone was well grounded in Latin & Greek even before entering Oxford. Few war veterans were. And though Greats had cradled premiers and primates, it was now generally considered "useless" to anybody except prospective schoolteachers.

Last week, endorsing the trend (or accepting the inevitable), the Oxford Congregation voted to set up a new Honors school in psychology, philosophy and physiology. It was a victory for the scientists and modernists among the dons, a defeat for the old guard, who decry the "earnest utilitarianism" of the present undergraduates.

Shared Austerity. Whether Oxford's changes were for better or worse would be argued for years in Senior and Junior Common Rooms, and by Old Oxonians long since "gone down" from the University. One change is liked by nobody. Oxford is now a crowded place, with 7,000 enrolled--2,000 more than in prewar days. The old college suite of bedroom and sitting room, with a servant for every "staircase," has given way to the shared austerity of a frequently servantless "bed-sitting-room." Nissen huts (British version of Quonset huts) squat in the quads; the students roam far & wide in search of "diggings" (off-campus rooms) in increasingly industrial Oxford town.

The cost of living has jumped about 25% at Oxford. The Oxonian who does nothing but study can barely get by on -L-250 ($ 1,000 a year). To have an occasional tea party, an after-theater drink in the Randolph Hotel bar, or an infrequent meal at White's (the expensive new restaurant on The High), he would need at least -L-350. The prewar prodigal who gave breakfast parties in his rooms, lunches with sherry, champagne, plovers' eggs and caviar, has gone with the food & drink.

From Blues to Khaki. Once it was a standing joke that Harrow men could get into Magdalen only if there weren't any Eton men on the waiting list. Now undergraduates come from all over, wearing the new uniform of corduroy trousers, Army shirts and "demob" jackets. It is no longer possible to tell a poet from, a Blue (a varsity athlete) by his dress.

Once undergraduates thought nothing of spending a week campaigning for an entirely mythical M.P.; this year even the prankster who put the traditional chamber pot on the Martyrs' Memorial had to call attention to the fact by writing to the press.

The "Pass-Man," that prewar animal who was happy just to get by in his studies, has all but vanished from Oxford. Many veterans are taking speed-up Honors courses, cramming nine terms into five. Sighed one sad Old Oxonian: "The colleges seem to be declining from homes of learning to mere hives of students."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.