The friends of Hearne were chiefly, perhaps solely, what he calls "honest men," supporters of the Stuart family, and always ready to drink his Majesty's (King James') health. They would meet in "Antiquity Hall," an old house near Wadham, and smoke their honest pipes. They held certain of the opinions of "the Hebdomadal Meeting," satirised by Steele in the Spectator (No. 43). "We are much offended at the Act for importing French wines. A bottle or two of good solid Edifying Port, at honest George's, made a Night cheerful, and threw off Reserve. But this plaguy French Claret will not only cost us more Money but do us less good." Hearne had a poor opinion of "Captain Steele," and of "one Tickle: this Tickle is a pretender to poetry." He admits that, though "Queen's people are angry at the Spectator, and the common-room say 'tis silly dull stuff, men that are indifferent commend it highly, as it deserves."
Some other satirist had a plate etched, representing Antiquity Hall--a caricature of Tom's antiquarian engravings. It may be seen in Skelton's book.
Thanks to Hearne, it is easy to reproduce the common-room gossip, and the more treasonable talk of honest men at Antiquity Hall. The learned were much interested, as they usually are at Oxford, in theological discussion. Some one proved, by an ingenious syllogism, that all men are to be saved; but Hearne had the better of this Latitudinarian, easily demonstrating that the comfortable argument does not meet the case of madmen, and of deaf-mutes, whom Tom did not expect to meet in a future state. The ingenious, though depressing speculations of Mr. Dodwell were also discussed: "He makes the air the receptacle of all souls, good and bad, and that they are under the power of the D--l, he being prince of the air." "The less perfectly good" hang out, if we may say so, "in the space between earth and the clouds," all which is subtle, and creditable to Mr. Dodwell's invention, but not susceptible of exact demonstration. The whole controversy is an interesting specimen of Queen Anne philosophy, which, with all respect for the taste of the period, we need not wish to see revived. The Bishop of Worcester, for example, "expects the end of the world about nine years hence." While the theology of Oxford is being mentioned, the zeal of Dr. Miller, Regius Professor of Greek, must not be forgotten. The learned Professor endeavoured to convert, and even "writ a Letter to Mrs. Bracegirdle, giving her great encomiums (as having himself been often to see plays acted whilst they continued here) upon account of her excellent qualifications, and persuading her to give over this loose way of living, and betake herself to such a kind of life as was more innocent, and would gain her more credit." The Professor's advice was wasted on "Bracegirdle the brown."
Politics were naturally much discussed in these doubtful years, when the Stuarts, it was thought, had still a chance to win their own again. In 1706, Tom says, "The great health now is "The Cube of Three," which is the number 27, i.e. the number of the protesting Lords." The University was most devoted, as far as drinking toasts constitutes loyalty. In Hearne's common-place book is carefully copied out this "Scotch Health to K. J.":
"He's o'er the seas and far awa', He's o'er the seas and far awa';
Altho' his back be at the wa'
We'll drink his health that's far awa'."
The words live, and ring strangely out of that dusty past. The song survives the throne, and sounds pathetically, somehow, as one has heard it chanted, in days as dead as the year 1711, at suppers that seem as ancient almost as the festivities of Thomas Hearne. It is not unpleasant to remember that the people who sang could also fight, and spilt their blood as well as their "edifying port." If the Southern "honest men" had possessed hearts for anything but tippling, the history of England would have been different.
When "the allyes and the French fought a bloudy battle near Mons"
(1709, "Malplaquet"), the Oxford honest men, like Colonel Henry Esmond, thought "there was not any the least reason of bragging."
The young King of England, under the character of the Chevalier St.
George, "shewed abundance of undaunted courage and resolution, led up his troups with unspeakable bravery, appeared in the utmost dangers, and at last was wounded." Marlborough's victories were sneered at, his new palace of Blenheim was said to be not only ill-built, but haunted by signs of evil omen.
