Whatte the Swyve?

I have spent the past few weeks holed up in the library wading through a massive amount of texts, and so don't have much in the way of snazzy photos or exciting Oxonian anecdotes to share. What I can offer is a series of stick-figure comic strips illustrating a few of the more ridiculous things I've found in my medieval readings. This is one of the aspects I love about medieval literature: even when the authors are being serious (and they joke a lot), you're laughing.

There is an early medieval Irish manuscript detailing how a king ought to spend his days. Sundays are for drinking ale, Mondays are for judging, Tuesdays are for board games, Wednesdays are for hunting with hounds, Thursdays are for having sex, Fridays are for watching horse races, and Saturdays are for a different kind of judging (the distinction between the two is unclear, but there was a lot of judgement flying around).

The Romance (Tale) of Havelok the Dane, which is sort of Lion King meets Snow White with a lot of blood-running and bone-breaking. Havelok is kidnapped by his evil uncle and given to a fisherman and his wife so that they will murder him, but when they see magical light shining out of his mouth while he's asleep, they realize that he's the true heir. Logical. They lie to the evil uncle and raise him themselves. When Havelok grows up, he wages war against the usurper and reclaims the throne.

Sir Tristrem, temporarily exiled to Wales for sleeping with the queen, fights a giant and wins a particolored baby for his efforts. Sort of like getting handed an armoire-sized stuffed animal for shooting targets at the fair and then trying to figure out what on earth you are going to do with it. So he decides to send the weird baby to his queenly true love as a gift and token of his affection. Gee, thanks. Not awkward at all.

I love those moments where I've been reading and reading and reading all day and then suddenly come across a section like these and my brain says, "Wait, what?"

Night at the Museum

Last night, the Ashmolean Museum put on Egyptomania, a celebration of the 1920s discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb and craze for all things Egyptian. I met up with some SJC friends and we spent the night roaming around the Ashmolean after hours. People were asked to come in Britain-in-Egypt '20s and '30s costumes. Every room had a different event, from live jazz bands and Charleston and Lindy-Hop dancing to reenactments of 1890s-1930s Egyptian-themed British plays to an old-fashioned (Victorian lantern) slideshow of antique photographs of archeological digs. Plus cocktails, of course.

If you haven't tried it, find an opportunity to wander around a museum at night. It's a completely different experience, a much better one, and definitely a little eerie. Less eerie once the bands started jamming and people began showing up in flapper dresses. The whole thing made for a fantastic Halloween.

Photo next to one of the exhibits! In costume, too. Wait, is that my sub-fusc ribbon repurposed? Why, yes it is. Waste not, want not.

Tonight we're having a decidedly less cultured Halloween party in college. There will be plenty of normal sophomoric shenanigans, rest assured.

Dining In

Every night, we have the option of eating "in Hall" (think Great Hall in Harry Potter), and have the option of attending formal or informal hall. Informal hall means you show up in your jeans, scarf down your cafeteria food, and head back to the library. Formal hall means you put on nice clothes and your robes (it seems like 'gown' is the preferred term, so I'll switch to using that). It runs about an hour and you get a much better tasting three-course meal with nice cutlery and candlesticks. When those are your options, why on earth would you choose informal? The catch: everyone must stand when the president enters the hall and says some Latin, and then again when the president has finished her meal and says some Latin before leaving. I'm happy to put up with that.

Here's a photo from the first formal hall of the term:

Matriculation Day

On the Saturday before last, we had Matriculation Day. It's the opposite of Commencement. Matriculation admits you into the university; Commencement (graduation ceremony) sends you out into the world.

What this means: Us getting all dressed up in our robes and sub-fusc and parading into the Sheldonian Theatre, where the president, in fancier robes, speaks in Latin for a bit and finally switches to English, giving us beautifully-worded platitudes about embarking upon our studies. We then march back over the cobblestones in our stilettos and take a class photo in St John's College.

Waiting in Canterbury Quad of SJC for things to get started.

Getting debriefed on how the ceremony is going to work. The two people exercising their right to stand on the grass are Fellows of the college.

On our way to the Sheldonian!

Inside the Sheldonian Theatre. So beautiful!

All matriculated and ready to head back!

All Souls of the Faithful Departed

I fell a bit behind on my posts, sorry about that.

Shortly after my last blog post, the Medievalists' Society got together for drinks at All Souls College.

All Souls is short for The College of All Souls of the Faithful Departed. It was founded in 1438 and remains the most exclusive college in Oxford. It admits no undergraduates, and graduates who apply are not students, but rather Fellows of the college. A maximum of two applicants may be admitted each year, but the college has no problem admitting zero. Up until a couple of years ago a person had to be invited to apply, and the application examinations are still held to be the most difficult in the world. In the world. I realize that's a bit subjective, but I don't see many people contending it. You must be a matriculated member of Oxford University or have been accepted into Oxford for a graduate program that hasn't started yet, and must have completed your Bachelor's within the past ten terms. (There are three terms per year: Michaelmas, Hilary, and Trinity. Think of them like semesters.) There are four exams lasting three hours each. Two of these are in the applicant's chosen "specialist subjects": Classical Studies (for which you must be proficient in Greek and Latin), Law, History, English Literature, Economics, Politics, and Philosophy. The essay question can be on any topic in that subject. For instance, if you chose "History", you would be trying to prepare for an essay question that could be on any aspect of any moment of all history, anywhere, ever. The other two papers are "general" and can be on anything at all. So the people admitted to All Souls are both extremely well-read and extremely lucky. The exams used to contain a fifth paper "in which they were required to write an essay in response to a single word", but they abandoned it because it was too difficult to distinguish the wheat from the chaff. Or in the case of All Souls applicants, the wheat from the other wheat. If they like your essays, they call you back for a viva, in which fifty Fellows of the college sit in and grill you about what you wrote and you desperately defend whatever you scribbled down. And no, you don't get to look over your essays to remind yourself what you wrote weeks ago.

Because of this, the college has quite the mystique about it. No one is seen entering. No one is seen leaving. It sits there, exclusive and dignified and forbidden, right next to the beautiful Radcliffe Camera. And I got to waltz in the front gate and say, "I'm here for the drinks party" to the porter on my way up to the Old Library. Cheers to being a medievalist.

The main quad

The Old Library, filled with my people.

Included in our raucous, dare I say Bacchanalian, festivities was a group quiz: "Guess That Medieval Portrait"! You're all jealous, I know. You wish you could have been standing around in sweater vests debating the visage of Gregory the Great. (Check out the guy in the cravat and tails in the back of the photo. The invitation said "casual attire".) But my group won! We won! And we all got a box of very nice chocolate out of it. 

Closeup of the ceiling. Pretty fancy.

This is a (blurry) close up of the 3D coat of arms at the end of the Old Library above the door. The common heraldic animals depicted on either side of the crest in the UK is the lion, representing England, and the unicorn, representing Scotland. This has the lion and the red dragon, representing Wales, because this room was built before England and Scotland were united. And I got to have a party in it!


So as you can see, the "Old Library" doesn't house any books anymore. It was where the library used to be, but has since been cleared out of volumes and shelving to allow for an event space.

Photo from www.blogs.library.ucla.edu

Here is a photo someone else took of the actual All Souls library.

Photo from www.telegraph.co.uk

And here is a much better photo of All Souls College that someone from the Telegraph took. Isn't it beautiful?

After our official drinks party, we retired to the King's Arms, the pub right next to the Sheldonian Theatre and a student favorite. Its website boasts that it was built in 1607 and has the highest IQ per square foot of any pub around. I'm sure some of the pubs in The Other Place would disagree, but we know they aren't right.

The perfect day: starts in an old library, ends in a pub.

We're Not in Kansas Anymore

I just got carded at the home goods store because a butter knife is considered an offensive weapon and cannot be purchased by those under 18. This scone better watch out.

St John's College

Today I took myself on a photo tour of St John's College (henceforth to be referred to as SJC). Here I share with you the fruits of my expedition, sans the library. I didn't go in there; I'm saving that gem for a different day.

Here's the street outside the college.

 To the right of the main gate.

 To the left of the main gate.

Further down the way to the left of the main gate.

Here is the main gate. Usually just the small entrance is open, not the whole thing.

Inside the main gate is the Porters' Lodge, doorway shown above. It's quite a tight fit; you can get yourself but not my largest suitcase through the door. The Porter's Lodge has our mailboxes, the spot to put money on your laundry machine card, and some very friendly porters who don't mind how many questions you ask them.

The Porters' Lodge leads to the Front Quadrangle. The rooms around the Front Quadrangle appear to be mostly dons' offices.

A note on terminology: not all people who teach at the university are professors. To quote WeeklyHome.com's article on "Mistakes not to make when you visit Oxford", "'Teachers' is only used for school teachers and there are only a few Professors at Oxford, it's a very prestigious position. The correct general term is 'Oxford dons', although you may also hear the term 'Oxford Fellow' for a don who is a Fellow or member of a college, 'Oxford lecturer' for someone appointed by a Faculty to give lectures, or 'Oxford tutor' for someone who gives tutorials but is not necessarily a permanent member of a college or lecturer." So there you have it.

To the right of the Front Quadrangle is the Dolphin Quadrangle, which is mostly used to store bikes.

To the left of the Front Quad (I'm unsure whether or not it is gauche to call it a quad instead of a quadrangle -- I haven't heard anyone shorten it yet) is North Quadrangle, which houses a lot of undergraduates. It also houses the administrative offices, located through Door No. 7, and the Beehive, which contains dorm rooms and is considered to be a superb example of '60s modernist architecture and is thus protected from ever being torn down or significantly remodeled.

No. 7 is on the far end of North, hidden by the trees in the above picture.

The passageway between Front and North Quads is pretty important. It houses the chapel, some storage for benches and rowing gear, and the dining hall.

Passageway

To the right

To the left

Farther left. It smells deliciously of old, old wood.

 This is above the doorway in the passage. It's odd and I will have to look into it.

Past the back right corner of North (second door to the right and straight on 'til daylight) is Thomas White Quadrangle. The walls are painted with murals exalting the triumphs of our rowers. Here are a couple examples:

 Even the more modern stairways in Thomas White Quadrangle look somewhat medieval.

Behind Thomas White is the MCR. This stands for Middle Common Room, and is the common room for graduate students. Ostensibly this is where I will spend the second most amount of time, outside of the library.

There are a few other rooms as well: a computer room, a study/seminar room, and a full kitchen.

Behind the MCR is the Garden Quadrangle, which houses more dorms -- I think. It also has a chess room! Now I wish I knew how to play the game.

To the right of the Garden Quadrangle (we're making a circle here) are the gardens. Ahem, excuse me, The Gardens.

The grass is a little yellow from the undergraduate graduation stage. The groundskeepers are freaking out. NO ONE is allowed to walk on ANY part of the grass unless they are a Fellow of that particular college. There supposedly is a particular patch of grass set aside as The Croquet Lawn but I have yet to see anything labeled as such. These are precious blades and are guarded as closely as the crown jewels. I have a theory that Tolkien based Smaug's relationship to his treasure hoard off of the colleges' relationship with their grass.

Through this doorway here is Canterbury Quadrangle, which is a straight shot through to Front Quadrangle, and we're back where we started. The college is somewhat L-shaped, and this quadrangle marks the conclusion of the tour of one of its branches.

Canterbury Quadrangle is regarded to be the quietest spot in all of Oxford, according to the MCR/graduate student body president who gave me a utilitarian tour yesterday. The back right corner of the quad as one faces The Gardens through Front Quad is where the library is located.

Lots of gargoyles and grotesques, each one different.

 
One of the more seasoned students says that you can tell the comparative wealth of SJC by the ornateness of its drainpipes. I think that's as good a yardstick as any.




 And through the passageway…

… and back to Front Quadrangle!

So exiting Front Quadrangle and going back out to the road, there's the Lamb and Flag, which is the college-owned and -operated pub; St Giles House, which does admissions and such; and Kendrew Quadrangle, which houses graduate students and the Law Library.

 Passage leading to the door of the Lamb and Flag.

More Lamb and Flag. It's a very important part of SJC.

 The somewhat foreboding entrance to St Giles House.

The gate to Kendrew Quadrangle

Kendrew was completed two years ago. It blends right in to the 16th-century architecture of Front Quadrangle, don't you agree?

Bitty Zen rock garden on the roof of the Kendrew Café.

And this concludes the photo tour of SJC. All that remains are photos of home sweet home:

Coming through ...

Mini fridge!

Big window, big window seat, big tree outside of window.

Aaah. Done for the night!