Oxford in English Literature

INTRODUCTION ...what I have to tell is an Oxford story—or, at least, is a collegiate story. --J.I.M. Stewart, The Aylwins (1966) 'OXFORD! THE VERY SIGHT of the word printed, or sound of it spoken, is fraught for me with most actual magic', wrote Max Beerbohm in Zuleika Dobson (1911). While others might not share the thrill, the associative resonance of the word attests not only to the legendary and worldwide renown of the university but to its use as a cachet synonymous with distinction, applied to an accent, to 'bags' to shoes, to a philosophy, to a colour, to a marmalade, to a movement, to a group and—most potently—to a myth. The magic derives from the myth, and the myth derives from the literature. For over six hundred years the portrayal of Oxford in poetry and prose has made the city as much a fiction as an actuality, a representation as well as a reality. Indeed, the topographical fiction called Oxford exudes a far greater presence than its real-life counterpart. To the postwar generation Oxford was overlaid with the image of Brideshead Revisited (1945), to the interwar generation Sinister Street (1914), and to the Victorians Verdant Green (1853-57). Towering over all are the 'dreaming spires' of Matthew Arnold. For some the whole notion of 'Oxford literature' derives from Arnold, for by envisaging the university as a 'home of lost causes' he launched a cult of sentimental affection which gave birth to the Oxford Myth of modern times—a university peopled by Bright Young Things of wealth, wit and leisure, devoted to the pursuit of pleasure and heir to glittering prizes. It is the purpose of this book to place that myth in a wider historical context and to show how it derived from an older tradition, that of the 'English Athens'. This concept of Oxford, which owes its origins to the celebratory instincts of Elizabethans, served for almost four hundred years as the dominant model for writings about the university and played a vital role in underpinning the glorification of the university following Arnold. Though no longer in favour, the notion has proved so powerful that its legacy is still apparent even in contemporary depictions of Oxford. 'No City or landscape', writes V.S. Naipaul, 'is truly rich unless it has been given the quality of myth by writer, painter or by association with great events.' Oxford in this respect can count itself rich indeed, for no other town except London can rival its place in the culture of the country. Not only has it been home to many of the great figures of the past, but for over six hundred years it has been lauded, slighted, analysed, and celebrated in poems, essays, memoirs, histories, anthologies, commentaries, and guides. It has been the setting for over five hundred novels that range from romance to intrigue, from the biographical to the fantastic. 'The literature devoted to Oxford and its Colleges', claims the anthologist William Knight, 'is probably greater than that relating to any other University in the world', an assertion supported by three heavy folio volumes in the Bodleian Library which detail the writings. It is the nature of that literature, in as far as it has impinged on the public consciousness, that is the concern of this book. It does not purport to be an account of Oxford graduates or even of writers associated with the city—a study of such authors would constitute work of quite a different nature. Consequently writers who were not concerned to portray Oxford lie beyond the terms of reference; these include former students such as Philip Sidney and Walter Raleigh, college fellows such as Andrew Lang and Charles Reade, and residents of the city such as Ronald Firbank, Joyce Cary, Elizabeth Bowen and Charles Williams, who are only mentioned in passing if at all. Moreover, the book makes no claim to offer a record of Oxford's historical development, which has been told often enough, for the relationship of representation to reality is complex and tentative as literary theorists have been at pains to point out. The physical city of Oxford and its literary re-creation exist in altogether different dimensions, and the imaging of Oxford has led to many fanciful portrayals amongst which the most striking is undoubtedly Alice in Wonderland. The tenuous link between life and literature can be seen in the demise of the 'English Athens' as a viable concept in recent times, for the desire to strip the university of glamour has had little to do with the academic standing of an institution which is much praised for its vitality and recognised internationally as one of the top three or four of its kind in the world.