Welcome to Oxford. My name is Stanley and I’m going to be showing you around for the next couple of hours. 

I have lived in Oxford for most of my life, and I know both the city and the university very well. I have led many tours around the city and decided to upload the information I have researched for you to listen to. This introduction can be listened to anywhere: for the next chapter - the beginning of the tour - you’ll need to walk to Balliol College. For a map of tour stops, please visit bit.ly/staast. It will be my pleasure to show you around. 

So - an introduction to Oxford. While humans have been living in this area since the Metholithic era, the city now known as Oxford was first settled by Anglo Saxons in the early 8th century AD. These Saxons settled here because of a natural ‘ford’ in the River Thames, the longest river in England, which flows through the city and on to London. A ford was simply a shallow path in the river that allowed people to cross without the use of a bridge, and this particular ford was large enough for farmers to cross their Oxen. Thus, the village was known to Saxons as Oxnaforda. 

So where better to start with the history of Oxford that with the city’s patron saint, St Frideswide. A lady possessing of both beauty and intelligence, Frideswide was born around 650 AD to Dida of Eynsham, a powerful Merican sub-king. Despite her intentions to devote her life to God, Frideswide caught the eye of an affectionate and stubborn king called Aethelbald, who saught the her hand in marriage. Intent on a life of cellebacy, Frideswide of course rejected the king’s advances. Aethelbald, being hopelessly in love and - convenientlly - rather powerful, decided to abduct young Frideswide, though she was able to escape up and flee in secret to the nearby village of Bampton before her capture. Aethelbald refused to back down, and turned the town of Oxnaforda upside-down in his dog-ged persuit of the young lady. HIs pursuit continued until one day, legend has it that the King was suddenly struck blind. Recognising this as a punishment from God, Aethelbald made a public apology to Frideswide, who shortly thereafter returned home and forgave the sorrowful king. The king’s eyesight was miraculously restored, and Frideswide spent the rest of her life in God’s service, founding a monastery in what is now central Oxford. 

The Monastry of St Frideswide stood for centuries until the 13th of November 1002, a fateful day that would have a dramatic impact on Oxonian history. Southern England had been consistently targeted by Danish raiding parties, who would sail from northern Germania in continental Europe to ravage the towns and villages of central England, plundering their contents and murdering their inhabitants. The king of England at the time, Aethelred the Unready, heard whispers that a group of Danes were plotting his assassination. In response to the rumour, Aethelred ordered that any Dane found withinin his kingdom be executed without trial. Unfortunately for her, a Danish lady called Gunhilte Forkbeard happened to be visiting the famed Frideswide Monestary at the time. On hearing of the Aethelred’s decree, Gunhilte barricaded herself and her party in the Monastry of St Frideswide, thinking that the townspeople of Oxnaforda would not dare commit murder inside it. Unfortunately for Gunhilte, she was very much mistaken and the locals set fire to the building, killing all inside. 

Now, unbeknownst to the townspeople of Oxenforda, Gulhitle Forkbeard was the sister of a powerful Danish King, Sweyn Forkbeard. In response to the murder of his sister, King Sweyn invaded England, and in 1009 raided Oxnaforda, sacking the city and murdering most of its population. Over the following four years, Sweyn continued his insurgency around Aethelred’s kingdom, forcing the submission of several powerful Thanes (local sub-kings) and slowly eating away at the English King’s power. By 1014, Aethelred recognised the situation was untenable, and fled to northern France with his son. On Christmas day of that year, Sweyn was pronounced King of the English. 

Just five weeks after his ascension, Sweyn passed away of natural causes. His youngest son, Cnut, was proclaimed his successor in England, but shortly afterwards Aethelred’s son Edmund decided to return to the Kingdom of England to stake his claim as King. The subsequent war between the young claimants ended in a decisive victory for Cnut, at the Battle of Ashingdon in 1016. Nonetheless, Cnut and Edmond agreed to split the Kingdom of England, with Cnut ruling everything north of the River Thames, and Edmond in control of the provinces to the south. 

Six weeks after the truce was agreed, however, Edmond was assassinated. Legend has it that one of Cnuts noblemen had his son hide in a privy - basically a medieval toilet - and as Edmond sat down to relieve himself the young man pointed his sword upwards and PUSHED. Quite how Edmond was recognised from this southern angle is still a subject of debate among historians, but the young King died and Cnut travelled to Oxford, where he was pronounced King of the English. 

Years later, by the time of the Norman invasion of 1066, Oxnaford as it was then known was recognised as an important strategic outpost. Following his defeat of Harald Goodwinson at the Battle of Hastings, William the Conquerer granted extensive lands around modern-day Oxfordshire to one of his most trusted Norman nobleman, Robert d’Oyly, who sacked the town of and set about constructing a castle to dominate it. At this point, the wooden fortifications of the city began to be replaced with a stone wall - sections of both the castle and the city walls still remain to this day. 

From this point on, Oxford remained one of the most important strategic settlements in England. King William II held his royal court in Oxford in 1088, and in 1130, King Henry 1 constructed Beaumont Palace in central Oxford, which acted as an important royal residence for a centuries to come. 

Oxford is of course especially well-known because of its world-famous University. While no exact date for the foundation of the university has been agreed upon, academics began to gather in Oxford from the late 11th century. In 1167, King Henry 2nd of England banned all English scholars from studying at The University of Paris, at the time one of two universities in all of Europe. This forced English scholars to find a new place to study. Many ended up in Oxford, due in no small part to the significant city walls that would keep the scholars safe.

In the early years of the university, students associated together into different groups based on geographical origins. The two main groups were known as nations:  Students who came from the ‘north’ of England were known as Boreales (latin); while students from the ‘South’ were known as Australes. At this time, the education on offer in Oxford was very limited, extending only to religious studies and training for a life spent in a monastic brotherhood. Students lived and studied in separate halls, and received funding from different benefactors. Later, the ‘nations’ in the city began to divide again, based on religious differences, and by the early 13th century dozens of independent halls populated the city, each with their own facilities and tutors. A number of wealthy private benefactors began to establish their own communities within the city. Much like the Halls - though far wealthier - these communities, known as Colleges, were self-contained, independent academic institutions, and by the end of the 13th century, there were four: Balliol College, Merton College, University College, Hertford College. They are all still in operation today. 

So, The University of Oxford. First thing many visitors want to know on arrival in the city is ‘Where is this famous university’. People expect Oxford to be like other universities: you arrive at the entrance, see a large sign saying ‘welcome to the university of wherever’, and as you walk in you see the library and the cafeteria, student accommodation and playing fields. As we’ve just discovered, the University of Oxford uses this ‘collegiate’ system that arose in the 13th century. There are now 38 colleges, each with their own libraries, dining halls, accommodation, tutoring rooms, sports teams and facilities, etc. In addition to the colleges, there are faculty buildings, subject departments, laboratories, libraries, lecture theatres and other ‘central’ university facilities which combine with the colleges to form The University of Oxford as it is known today. 

On acceptance into the University of Oxford, every full time student will become a member of one of the 38 colleges. A student’s college becomes their home in the city. It is where they live, eat, play and sleep. Unlike centuries past, colleges are now primarily pastoral - most studying is facilitated by subject faculties. For example, if you decide to study history, you could end up a member of just about any college, and while that will have an enormous bearing on your overall experience at Oxford, you will still study alongside students from lots of other colleges, at faculty buildings for lectures, or in the tutoring rooms of other colleges for tutorials. 

With this brief introduction to both the city and University of Oxford, it’s time to begin the tour. Please download the next chapter, in which we’ll be discussing several of the University’s colleges, the experiences of their students and some of the university’s bizarre traditions, such as the annual tortoise race. 

the first thing they want to know is ‘where it the university of Oxford’. Well, it is all around you. Just about everything you seen in the city centre is ‘the University of Oxford’ 

Suffice to say, Oxford is quite an unusual University. Most universities are much the same: you arrive at the main gate, see a big sign saying ‘welcome to the unviersity of wherever’, you walk in and see the student accommodation, the sports fields, the lecture halls and all that sort of thing. Oxford is a collegiate University, which means that the University itself is divided into colleges. There are 38 colleges, each of which essentially acts as a miniature independent university. Each own stuff. 

We’re now going to walk down to Broad St, where we’ll have a better look at a few of these colleges and I’ll tell you about one of the city’s more bizarre annual traditions. 

Hi guys, Stanley here, and welcome back for chapter 2 of our tour of Oxford. In this episode, we’ll be covering Broad St, one of the most important and historic streets in the city centre. It is home to a long long list of fascinating historical sites, from the University’s oldest college to the world’s oldest museum. 

This is the second chapter of this audio tour series. I would suggest listening to the first episode, which is an introduction provides a lot of useful information which will acquaint you well with both the city and University of Oxford. However, do feel free to dive straight into this one if you wish. I have created an interactive map of the city which I’d highly recommend you use whilst listening to this. It features the walking-tour route, broken up by chapter, along with various points of interest and additional information about the sites mentioned in this podcast. If you’re interested in seeing it, head over to historylicks.com. Alright, without further ado, here is chapter two of the Oxford tour podcast - Broad St. 

By the 10th century, Oxford was one of many bustling market towns in the area. The first fortifications were erected around what is now the city-centre of Oxford in 911, but of course the settlement extended beyond the walls. The dirt track running along the northern exterior of the city wall became the home of a permanent horse market. Horsemonger St, as it became known, was an exceptionally wide street in a typically narrow city, and as a consequence it was colloquially known as ‘The Broad’. The northern stretch of the walls ran through what is now the blocks of shops on the southern side of Broad St, though any clues to history are quite well hidden. They are there, though, for example, the ruins of one of the original watch-towers sits in the storage area at the back of Boswells, which is only accessible to the staff of the shop. The street is now home to a considerable number of interesting sites - the first one that we’ll be discussing, is Balliol College. 

Balliol is the large, clean, yellow stone building on the street’s north-western side, extending from the corner of Magdelen St at it’s most westerly point, to the Blue gates of Trinity College in the eastt. Balliol was founded all the way back in 1263, and claims to be the oldest college at the University of Oxford. It was founded by a man called John de Balliol and his wife, Dervorguilla. De Balliol was a powerful nobleman of French origin whose son would actually go on to become King John 1st of Scotland, and his wife Dervorguilla, was the daughter of an exceptionally powerful and wealthy Scottish magnate. The pair founded the college following a rather serious argument between de Balliol and Walter de Kirkham, the Bishop of Durham and at the time one of the most powerful religious figures in England. According to legend, de Balliol had abducted the Bishop following a land dispute, and as penance he was publicly beaten b the Bishop and had to financially support a group of religious scholars at Oxford. Following his death in 1268, his widow, Dervorguilla, continued the development of the young college and in 1282 formulated the college statues, which still survive to this day. 

From the outside, Balliol doesn’t look especially exciting. The high stone walls, large wooden doors and defensive turrets don’t provide much of a clue as to the contents of the college. However, as with most Oxford colleges, the exterior can be deceiving. Walk through the main doors of Balliol and you’ll immediately walk into one of several beautiful gardens, with manicured lawns and ancient stone archways. Much like just about every other college in Oxford, Balliol is basically self-sufficient: it has its own library, accommodation for it’s 350 or so undergraduate students, a chapel, a dining hall (very much like the one in Harry Potter), extensive sports facilities, common rooms for its students, and even its own bar. Should you decide to pay the small entrance fee, we have recorded a Balliol-specific audio-tour which you can find by scrolling down to the bottom of the Oxford Tour podcast. 

Balliol has been around for an awful long time, and the list of notable alumni is very long. The list includes, for example, four British Prime Ministers (including the controversial Boris Johnson), five Nobel Laureates, and countless other famous figures, such as the economist Adam Smith, scientist Richard Dawkins, and author Aldous Huxley. 

However, the thing that Balliol is perhaps most famous for in Oxford is something very different. In 1961, the undergraduate student body of the college decided to adopt a college tortoise, which they named Rosa Luxemburg, after the Marxist theorist. Both Rosa’s are real herions in the city of Oxford, and Rosa the tortoise became a city-wide celebrity. Often seen grazing in the Balliol College gardens, she would roam the grounds really quite freely, and was often visited by guests. 

By the end of the decade, a number of other colleges had decided to acquire their own college tortoises, and by the 1970s it was decided that a tortoise race was required to determine whose was the best. This annual event still takes place to this day, up at Corpus Christi College in the first week of June. Hundreds of students bring their prized tortoises across the city and convene in Corpus’ main garden, where large ring of lettuce leaves, about 10 metres in diametre, is laid out. Each of the tortoises are placed in the middle, often wearing a little vest that will have been knitted by their college students. The race begins, and … usually…... very little happens. The race continues until one of the little tortoises reaches the ring of lettuce surrounding them, and takes a bite. At this point, the race is over, and the victor declared. 

During her tenure as Balliol College Tortoise, Rosa Luxemburg won many tortoise races and was generally considered the most naturally talented racer among the University tortoises. Unfortunately, however, in 2004 Rosa competed for the last time. She won the race, coming within a cat’s whisker of beating her Personal Best time, an astonishing record of one hour, 17 minutes and 42 seconds. Rosa’s delighted Balliol colleagues paraded her through the city on the 10-minute walk back to their home, and presumably partied into the early hours of the evening. The following morning, however, Rosa was nowhere to be seen. The Balliol students were not too concerned. She might have been taken away to some secret after party, or perhaps she was nursing a hangover in nearby bush. But hours turned into days, and there was still no sign of her. The college posted a public plea for her safe return, but it was to no avail. At the time of writing, in 2019, the fate of the poor little tortoise is still unknown. 

Various theories have of course been suggested. The one most commonly accepted by Balliol students is that their fierce rivals, next-door at Trinity College, most likely had something to do with Rosa’s disappearance. Trinity sits behind the blue iron gates, immediately to the right hand side of Balliol. The two colleges have shared a dividing wall ever since Trinity was founded in 1555, and a bitter rivalry has been brewing ever since. It is generally accepted that Trinity students broke into Balliol, and kidnapped their prized tortoise, later murdering her. Rosa had been a resident of Balliol for 43 years, and to this day she is sorely missed. Should you decide to pay the small fee to enter into Trinity College - which features a truly beautiful garden - you will see a fish pond hidden away in the Fellow’s Quad. While it used to feature an impressive collection of fish, The pond has been empty since 2004, having been poisoned by Balliol students in retaliation for their tortoise. As with Balliol, an audio-tour of Trinity College can be found towards the bottom of the list of Oxford Tour episodes. 

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As you continue walking East along Broad St, there are a few notable sites I’d like to point out. At number 17 is the first ever Oxfam shop. It was opened in 1942 by the ‘Oxford Committee for Famine Relief’, a group of citizens and academics from Oxford concerned with the famine in Axis-occupied Greece. 

Next comes Exeter College, only really distinguishable from Broad Street by an interesting statue of a naked man on it’s roof. The statue, named ‘Another Time’ was sculpted by British artist Antony Gormley, and faces towards a very important cross marketed on Broad St where three men, known as the Oxford Martyrs, were burned alive at the stake in the 16th century. The story of these men is so fascinating as to warrant a standalone episode, which you will soon be able to find under the Oxford Tour podcast. 

Across the road from Exeter College is Blackwell’s Bookshop, founded in 1879 by Benjamin Blackwell. This shop has been of huge importance to students in Oxford since it opened, and is considerably larger than it looks from the street. The shop spans five storeys, the most impressive of which is undoubtedly its basement. The Norrington Room, as it is known, once merited an entry in the Guinness World Records for being the largest room selling books. If you have time, I would highly recommend popping into the shop to have a look - plus, there is a nice cafe on the second floor. 

Immediately opposite Blackwell’s bookshop sits the Museum of the History of Science. Opened in 1683 by Elias Ashmole, it is considered to have been the world’s first purpose-built museum. Until 1924, it was known as The Ashmolean Museum, though the majority of the collection has now been relocated to the new site, the enormous, palacial complex over on Beaumont Street. The scientific artefacts of the Ashmolean collection remain here, and there are some fascinating things to see. As with all museums in Oxford, entrance is free, though a small donation is always appreciated. Should you take the time to pop in, you can see, among many other things, a particularly impressive chalkboard which was used by Albert Einstein during a series of lectures at Oxford in 1931. It features equations taken from the Freidmann-Einstein model of the universe that had been proposed that year, written of course, by the great man himself. This was actually one of two chalkboards preserved from that lecture, though the second was accidentally wiped by cleaner working at the museum. This very normal-looking second chalkboard is still kept by the museum, as a philosophical reminder to both the purpose of a blackboard, and the difference a small amount of chalk can make. 

Finally, at the far north-eastern end of Broad St, sits the Weston Library. The largest library at the University of Oxford, it was originally opened as the New Bodleian Library in 1940. The building was designed by famed architect Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, who is well known as the designer of the iconic British red telephone boxes. Scott was tasked with using the small plot of land to construct a building that could store the majority of the University’s books, but it could be no higher than the three-storey buildings surrounding the plot, due to the centuries old, and very rarely-broken law that no building in the centre of Oxford be constructed higher than the 18.2m high Carfax Tower, which we’ll be talking about later. Scott constructed a highly-functional facility, with 11 storeys of underground bookstacks and a subterranean passageway connecting the building with both the Bodleian Library and Radcliffe Camera, equipped with a conveyor belt for conveniently moving books between the three libraries. The exterior architecuture of the building, however, was unanimously denounced. People hated it. Published opinions vary: A.G Butler declared it ‘Not very impressive’, Jan Morris referred to it as looking like a ‘municipal swimming pool’, and one particularly upset Oxford resident said it looked like a mental asylum. By 2009, the powers that be decided that the New Bodleian was to be closed for extensive renovations. It re-opened in 2015 as the Weston Library, and, having been redesigned from the ground up, was shortlisted for the 2016 Stirling Prize for excellence in architecture. While most of the facility is only open to members of the University, the foyer has two exhibition rooms which are open to the public. If you have the time, I’d recommend popping in. 

This brings us to the end of Broad St. See you for the next chapter, which will feature the Sheldonian Theatre, the Bridge of Sighs, the Bodleian Library, and a Harry Potter film site. If you are listening to this podcast in Oxford, you might want to check out the complimentary map at historylicks.com, which provides the walking tour route of the city to accompany this audio-tour. Thanks for listening. 

Balliol

Trinity

Boswells

Oxfam

Blackwells

Exeter

Bishops

History science

Weston

Hi guys, It’s Stanley here, and thanks for joining me for chapter 3 of our audio tour of Oxford. In this episode, we’ll be taking a look at the area surrounding the Sheldonian Theatre, which features the Divinity School, the Clarendon Building, the Bridge of Sighs and the world-famous Bodleian Library. While you don’t need to listen to these podcasts in order, I would certainly recommend that you do. However, if you don’t mind diving straight into the middle of the tour, do feel free to. As ever, lots more information can be found on historylicks.com. With that said, let’s get cracking. 

Immediately to the east of the Museum of the History of Science sits a small wooden door, which leads into that walled off area surrounding the Sheldonian Theatre. This gate, along with the wall surrounding it, have been standing there since the 1670s. I’m sure you’ll notice the large stone heads adorning the wall: known as the ‘Emperors’, these were supposedly intended to resemble the Emperors of the Roman Empire. They were carved by a local stonemason by the name of William Bird, who, unfortunately, hadn’t the slightest clue what the Roman Emperors actually looked like, and as a consequence his busts looks nothing like them. As you walk through that wooden gate, do just bare in mind that the area within do just consider how long it’s been there. The sites you are about to see have been unchanged for centuries. As you head through the gate and keep right, heading towards the Divinity School, take a look at the stone stairs on your right hand side. These used to form the main entrance into what used to be The Ashmolean, the world’s oldest purpose built museum. Unlike most of the stone in Oxford, the stone on these stairs has not been very carefully maintained, and as a consequence, the various names, dates and other pieces of ‘graffiti’ that have been carved into the stone over the years are still visible. My favourite sits at the top of the stairs: on the right at eye level, you can see the graffiti of a student called Charles Simpson, who carved his name and the date on that stone back on the 22nd of June of 1734. See if you can spot it. After that, continue walking down towards the Divinity School. 

Construction of this magnificent gothic building began in 1427, though the project wasn’t completed until 1483. The Divinity School occupies the ground floor, while the second storey is home to the 15th century Duke Humphrey’s library. The interior of the Divinity School was the main reason the project took so long to finish - if you walk up to the windows, you’ll see the extraordinary fan-vaulted ceiling, which features 455 crests, of the various families and colleges that donated to have the enormously expensive project completed. 

When it was finally completed in 1483, the Divinity School became the first purpose-built classroom of the University of Oxford, and it regularly hosted lectures and exams. Exams back in those days were very different to the ones we know today: for example, there was no writing involved - the exams took the form of oral debates, between one student and a number of tutors. The exams were all conducted in Latin, a tradition that actually continued until as recently 1885, the last year in which when all first-year students sat exams in Latin. These exams could last an awfully long time - hours and hours on end. Perhaps the worst thing about them though, it that the majority of the room - around 2/3rds - was reserved for spectators, who would come to watch the students and tutors wage their intellectual wars. It’s hard to imagine watching latin arguments for fun, but such was the state of live entertainment back in those days. 

Over the years, the Divinity School has had a number of purposes. It has hosted Parliament on a number of occasions, it acted as the courtroom during the trial of Archbishop Thomas Cramner and the other Oxford Martyrs, and it featured in several Harry Potter movies. Nowadays, it is used pretty infrequently by the University, though it does host the gowning, during doctoral graduation ceremonies. While most of the time is spent in the Sheldonian Theatre just opposite, at the mid-point of the ceremony those receiving their doctorates head out of the theatre and walk through the large wooden doors that form the entrance of the Divinity School. As they walk in, they each pause and take a moment to look upwards, and read the inscription on the small book peering down from the top of the archway. In Ancient Greek, the biblical inscription reads,from the Book of Luke, chapter 2, verse 46, “They found him sitting among the teachers”. While peering up at this verse, each graduate takes a short moment to pause and reflect on their exceptional achievement. 

Now, across from the Divinity School sits the magnificent Sheldonian Theatre. Completed in 1668, it was designed by the famed architect Sir Christopher Wren, who had been an undergraduate student at Wadham College, just a stone’s throw away. The story of the theatre starts in the early 1660s, when the Chancellor of the University, Gilbert Sheldon, felt that that an impressive, new, purpose-built facility was required for the conference of degrees. The Archbishop of Canterbury at the time, Sheldon was a very powerful and wealthy man, and following several unsuccessful attempts to raise funds, ended up funding the entire project himself. He commissioned Wren to design a theatre that could seat up to 1500 people. At that time, the only theatres of that size that had ever been constructed had been open to the elements, and had been built by the ancients in warmer climates, like Rome and Greece. Wren based his design for the Sheldonian on the Marcellus theatre in rome, with one critical difference: the addition of a roof.  However, 16th century architectural technology only developed two methods for the construction of roof of the size and weight that was required. The first involved columns and pillars to provide interior structural support - though these would of course have restricted the views for spectators inside the theatre. The other was to have a large, domed ceiling much like you might see atop a Gothic cathedral. Wren dismissed these two strategies, and used a revolutionary new system, known as a ‘geometrical flat floor’ which relied on a network of interconnected thick wooden beams that supported both their own weight, and weight of the roof. When it was finally completed, the Sheldonian Theatre featured the largest unsupported flat-ceiling that had ever been constructed. It became the host just about every major ceremonies at the University, and also the home of the Oxford University Press, which occupied the basement, The total cost of the project came to staggering £14,470, in a era when a mid-level craftsman’s wage would have been around £2 annually. 

To this day, every student at the University of Oxford will attend at least two ceremonies at the Sheldonian: the first, their matriculation, which is essentially a registration ceremony occurring in your first week at Oxford. The second is of course graduation, which occurs at the end of each students time at the university. We’ll be talking more about these in another episode.

Continuing eastwards, you’ll see the Bridge of Sighs directly front of you, and the Clarendon building to your left. The Clarendon Building was designed by architect Nicholas Hawksmoor, and constructed between 1711 and 1715. It was constructed due to the fact that the Oxford University Press, at the time contained in the basement of the Sheldonian Theatre, was really rather noisy and, unsurprisingly, not particularly well-suited to operation immediately beneath a theatre. The Clarendon Building housed the Press for just over a century, until 1820, when OUP moved to its current premises in Jericho, a trendy suburb of the city centre about a 15 minute walk to the north. Since then, the Clarendon Building has been used for office space for senior academics and administrative staff. In its central Archway you’ll see a list of major donors to the university, which features some rather reprehensible and controversial figures. How much money would you need to donate to have your name up on that board? Weeeeell, you’ll have to go to historylicks.com to find out. 

We now come to the famous bridge of Sighs, said to be the most photographed landmark in all of Oxford. You may well have seen other Bridges of Sighs elsewhere: there several other versions around the world, in stunning cities like Venice and Copenhagen, and also in tacky places like Las Vegas, and Cambridge. The original sits in Venice, and it was so-named because it used to connect the courthouse of the city with its jail. Prisoners would be handed down their sentences and, while making their way across the bridge, would enjoy their last views of the outside world, before descending to some miserable prison cell to begin their sentences. Certianly an interesting story behind the name, though anyone familiar with Venitian bridge may notice that the Oxonian edition far more closely resembles another one of Venice’s bridges, the Ponte Rialto. The reason this Oxford bridge shares the name, and indeed the reason it was built in the first place, is because the University of Cambridge built one first. That most fierce of rivals, known affectionately in Oxford as ‘The other place’ or depending on who you talk to, ‘the c-word’, had a bridge constructed in 1831 in St John’s College. Students began to refer to it as The Bridge of Sighs, as they would cross it on the journey to their tutor’s rooms for lessons and exams. Much as no one in Oxford would admit it, the bridge in Cambridge is actually stunningly beautiful: it crosses the River Cam, and boasts the interesting accolade of having been Queen Victoria’s favourite bridge. Oxford, not ever happy to be one-upped by their northerly rivals, put forward plans to have an Oxonian Bridge constructed, and it was eventually completed in 1913. This Bridge connects two halls of Hertford College, and is occasionally said to be three inches longer and wider than the Cambridge bridge, and therefore more impressive. While this claim is factually inaccurate, it’s important for the residents of Oxford to have something to cling onto, because the bridge is made somewhat redundant by the fact that it crosses a very quiet, paved pedestrianised street. It does, however, look very pretty. 

From where you’re standing, there are a couple of things that I’d like to bring your attention to. If you peer just beneath the Bridge, you will see to the left a tiny alleyway, between the yellow stone of Hartford College and the red-brick of astronomer Edmund Halley’s old home. It doesn’t look like the sort of alleyway that would be worth exploring, but it certainly is. Known as St Helen’s Passageway, or, colloqually, as Hell’s Passage as a consequence of it’s dark and violent history, that alleyway will lead you to the Turf Tavern, one of the oldest and most well-hidden pubs in Oxford. It has been open since at least 1381, and has quite a few claims to fame. One involves Bill Clinton, who was a Rhodes Scholar at the University of Oxford in the late 1960s. Just prior to his first Presidential campaign, Mr Clinton was accused of smoking marijuana during his time at Oxford. He admitted that he had, but made it clear that he did not inhale. This event took place at the Turf Tavern, and it is memorialised on a board in the pub garden. Mr Clinton would of course go on to develop quite a knack for getting himself out of tricky situations, and the Turf Tavern is proud to have been a part of that history. Another ex-world leader, Bob Hawke, prime minister of Australia and Rhodes Scholar of Oxford University, made history at the Turf Tavern when in 1954, he set a world record by drinking a yard of ale, which is about 3 pints, in just under 11 seconds. Finally, just to the north of the bridge, or to your left as you look at it with the Sheldonian behind you, sits the hexagonal ‘Round House’. Now the  Junior Common Room of Hertford college, this building was once a bastion on the city wall of Oxford. I have created a map of where the city wall of Oxford once sat, along with photographs, which you can find on the historylicks website. Many thanks to the guys at oxfordhistory.com for the work they put in digging up so much of that information. 

Heading south down Catte Street, you will see the glorious Bodleian Library - technically now named the ‘Old Bodleian Library’. You can enter through the large wooden doors opposite the entrance of Hertford College. This is the original central library of the University of Oxford, and was founded in 1602 following a large donation of money and books from a man called Thomas Bodley. Bodley had been a student at Merton College, and in later life had come to marry a very wealthy young window. Like many before him and many to come, he decided to donate a large amount of money to his old university. Bodley had a particular purpose in mind: to construct a new library, one of the greatest of the age. And he had good reason to, for in 1599, the Duke Humphrey’s library, at that time the largest at the university, had a total collection of just .. three .. volumes. There were a number of reasons for this, and most of them are a consequence of King Henry VIII’s inability to keep his pants on. The tumultuous period to which I am referring is known to history as the English Reformation, and in case you haven’t heard of it, we’re going to take a very quick crash course. The origins of this period begin in the early years of Henry’s reign, with him married to a Spanish princess called Katherine of Aragon. Over nearly 20 years of marriage, Katherine and Henry were unable to produce a son. Henry became very concerned that their marriage would never yield him a male heir, and he began to explore the idea of finding a new, younger, and more attractive wife. The problem was that, back in the 15th century, divorce was a very tricky subject. It was extremely difficult to obtain a divorce, and they exceptionally rarely. Henry needed to obtain permission from the Pope in Rome, and for this, he needed a very good reason. He thought he had one: Katherine had initially been married to Henry’s older brother Arthur, who would have taken the throne ahead of Henry had he not died of an unknown ailment at age 15. While Katherine had always maintained that their marriage had never been consummated, Henry contested that his marriage to her should never have been permitted in the first place. Throw into the mix that Katherine’s nephew, Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, was basically holding the Pope hostage, and Henry can hardly have been surprised when his request was denied. He was, however, outraged, and became perhaps the first man ever to have been so thoroughly pissed off about being married to a Spanish princess. In what might be considered the greatest lengths ever gone to by a human being to get what they want, Henry essentially started his own religion. He pronounced himself leader of the new protestant Church of England, and changed the state religion of England from Catholicism to Anglicanism. He no longer required the permission of the Pope to do anything, he was free to divorce whomever he wished. He swiftly got rid Katherine, and married his sweetheart Anne Bolyn. I suspect we are all at least somewhat familiar with the story from there, with the various deaths and executions of several of his future partners. It really is impossible to overstate the significance of this fascinating period, and I will be covering it in a future History Licks episode, but at this point we must bring our attention back to the Bodleian Library. As you might imagine, books in the 16th century were very unlike the books of today. Despite the development of Johannes Gutenburg’s printing press in the mid 14th century, the vast majority of books had been hand-written by monks and scribes, who often spent years crafting them. They were typically very expensive, and often resided in the private collections of the rich. One other thing they shared in common was their content, which, in a society as pious as 16th century Europe, was typically religious. Once Henry installed the new church, the religious content of many of these old books was all of a sudden, inaccurate. To be found in possession of such a book could lead to an accusation of heresy, and to be found guilty of heresy would generally result in the victim being burned alive at the stake. Suffice to say, most owners of these books wanted to get rid of them pretty bloody quickly, and the easiest way to do that was to destroy them. And so, over the course of the 16th century, the collection of England’s books and Oxford’s library dwindled, until Bodley swooped in to save the day in 1598. 

Four years later, the Bodleian Library opened. Due to the value of the books, two strict laws were enforced upon students who wished to use them. Firstly, no book was permitted to leave the library. Students were welcome to study them within the walls of the Bodleian but under no circumstances were they able to take them home. Indeed, decades later in 1645, in the midst of the English Civil War, King Charles I, while resident at Trinity College just a stones throw away, sent one of his servants to the Bodleian to collect some reading material. A short while later, the servant returned with a note, on which the librarian had politely written “no man is entitled to take these books. Not even a king”. 

The second law imposed on students was that there was to be no fire in the library. That may sound like a given, but the library had no heating until the 1840s, and no artificial lighting until 1925. You might expect that both of these ancient laws would have been revoked in recent times, but they have not. To this day, no books are permitted to leave the premises, and before they are granted access to the library’s impressive collection, every new reader must take the following oath:

“I hereby undertake not to remove from the Library, nor to mark, deface, nor injure in any way, any volume, document or other object belonging to it or in its custody; not to bring into the Library, or kindle therein, any fire or flame, and not to smoke in the Library.

Shortly after its foundation in 1610, the Bodleian became a copyright library. Since that date it has been entitled to one copy of every book published in England, or more recently the UK. Yes, that does include some rubbish ones - people often ask about 50 shades of grey, and I can confirm that the library does indeed have it’s very own copy. A decade later, in 1620, the library’s collection had surpassed 16,000 volumes. I’m sure you’ll be interested to hear that, today, the collection of the library exceeds 14 million volumes. For your reference, that’s almost three times the number of English Wikipedia articles on the internet. 

As you stand in the old School’s Quad, there are a few things that might catch you attention. Firstly, there are two skylights on the stone floor of the quad. Beneath your feet is the Gladstone Link, originally a tunnel that connected the Library with the Radcliffe Camera, which we’ll be discussing in the next episode, though that tunnel has now been expanded into several storeys of reading rooms and shelving space - pictures can be found on the historylicks website. You will also notice the Latin school names posted above the doors of the Quad. As you might guess, these rooms once housed the lectures and exams of those various subjects, and it is those rooms that give the Old School’s Quad its name. You will also certainly notice the Tower of 5 Orders, forming the eastern entrance to the Quad. Each storey boasts details from each of 5 orders of classical architecture - Doric, Ionic, Tuscan, Corinthian, and Composite. At the top of the tower, you will see a statue of King James 1st of England, handing out promotional copies of his shiney new bible to the Angel Gabriel and St Frideswide. But, if Elizabeth 1st didn’t die until 1603, why is there a statue of King James in a library built in 1602, I hear you ask? Well, the quad itself was completed in 1619. By 1602, the Western block of the quad was the only portion that had been finished. Sitting in front of the entrance of this Western block (identifiable by it’s surprising lack of windows), is a rather magnificent statue. Surely, this man is Thomas Bodley, that husband of a wealthy lady, who gave so much for this library? Well, no, actually. The references to Thomas Bodley are surprisingly scarce - take a look a the drainpipe in the corner to the left of the statue. You will notice the initials ‘TB’ pressed onto the wall fixtures. If you continue looking up the drainpipe, you come to the row of grotesques, or stone faces, and you will once again notice Bodley’s initials, crafted in stone (these also appear on the opposite row of grotesques). The statue is actually of a man called William Herbert, who was the vice chancellor of the University of Oxford in the 1630s. He had very little to do with the development of the library, but he did have lots of money, and like many rich men of history, he wanted a statue of himself erected in an important place. Any fans of Shakespeare among you may recall the mysterious ‘Mr W. H.’, the fair youth to whom many of the writer’s Sonnets were addressed. While there is no conclusive evidence for who this potential lover was, many scholars consider Mr William Herbert the most likely candidate. For the record, should you wish to enter the Divinity School, you can do so by entering through the glass doors behind the statue. There is a small entrance fee, but I assure you it is well worth it. 

I invite you now to head out of the Old School’s Quad through the southern entrance, and into Radcliffe Square, considered by many to be the most beautiful square in the world. It is home to the magnificent Radcliffe Camera, the imposing University Church, and the illustrious All Souls College, which, until recently, boasted the most difficult exam in the world. We’ll be covering all that and more in the next episode. As ever, I thank you very much for listening. I’d like to give a quick shout-out to Christine and Michael, from whom I received my first emails at historylicks. It’s so nice to hear that people are enjoying this stuff, and you guys are the first of many! See you next time. 

Divinity School

The Divinity School 

Sheldonian Theatre

Clarendon Building

Bridge of Sighs

Turf Tavern

Bodleian Library

Hello there, it’s Spencer here with Chapter 4 of the Oxford Audio Tour. I hope you’ll accept my apologies for the delay on this one, it has been a rather busy few months, especially latterly with the pandemic situation. On that note, I hope you are all well and safe. As ever, you can find loads of extra information about Oxford, including a wonderful map of this audio tour, at the new website, OxfordAudioTour.com. Without further ado, here is

Chapter 4: Radcliffe Square.

If you take a moment to search Oxford in Google images, 15 of the first 16 results all focus on the same small area of the city centre. It’s hard to imagine that Broad Street, the University Parks, the Bodleian Library, Sheldonian Theatre, even the Bridge of Sighs, do not feature at all. Such is the beauty and character of Radcliffe Square that few of the city’s other majestic landmarks come close to matching it’s popularity among students, locals, and visitors alike. 

The name ‘Radcliffe’ is one that you will find all over Oxford. The John Radcliffe Hospital, The Radcliffe Science Library, The Radcliffe Observatory, The Radcliffe Infirmary, and of course Radcliffe Square, home to the Radcliffe Camera. All these and more are named after John Radcliffe, a medical student at Oxford in the late 17th century and later Royal Physician to King William III. He was as successful as he was popular, and enjoyed a long and distinguished career. He was famous for reading very little and partying very much, and it was his colourful character that later got the better of him. He was at a party in Covent Garden when the Palace called for him, explaining that the Queen required his urgent attention. He refused the request, explaining that the Queen could wait until morning. This was shortly after he’d offended King William: while inspecting the king for suspected Gout, Radcliffe remarked “Why truly, I would not take your Majesty’s two legs if with them came your three kingdoms”. Radcliffe’s time as a Royal Physician came to an abrupt halt, though not before he had amassed a huge fortune, an art collection featuring works of Rubens, Rambrant, and Vermeer, and a portfolio of stocks, shares and property worth many millions today. When he died, he left his fortune to charitable causes, including a new infirmary in Oxford. 

Every corner of Radcliffe Square features something beautiful and historic. The old Bodleian Library sits to the North, All Souls College to the East, The University Church of St Mary to the South, and Brasenose College to the East. The focal point is of course the famous Radcliffe Camera, the stunning landmark is very much the de-facto ‘poster-child’ of the city and University.

Designed by Scottish architect James Gibbs, this imposing, cylindrical masterpiece is often presumed by many to be some sort of centrepiece for both the city and University of Oxford. Surely something very important and impressive is happening within those gorgeous stone walls? Visitors to Oxford often mistake the Radcliffe Camera, or Rad-Cam, for having some special purpose. I’ve even been asked on several occasions whether Camera is home to the university’s photography department or something like that. Unsurprisingly it is not; firstly, the University does not have a photography department, and second, the word Camera comes from the Latin translation for ‘chamber’. The Radcliffe Camera is actually just another library. Opened in 1749, and the building was known as the Radcliffe Science Library, but by 1860, the library was in danger of being swallowed up by it’s big brother. As you’ll know if you listened to the previous chapter, the Radcliffe Camera sits in the shadow of the Old Bodleian, which is the oldest and most famous of the University’s libraries. It is a legal deposit library, which means that it is entitled to one free copy of every book and periodical published in the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland, though it is obliged to preserve that material and ensure its availability to future scholars. The Old Bod, as it’s known in the city, has held this status since 1610, and so you won’t be surprised to hear that the collection of the library is not only very large, but fast growing - it is said to be collecting books at such a rate that they require around 3 miles of new shelves every year. The library required more and more space, and in 1860 the Radcliffe Camera became an extension of the wider library. 

Though it is not immediately obvious, the Camera is connected to the Bodleian Library by a series of underground basement and tunnels. Construction of a two-story basement beneath the north garden of the camera began in 1911, along with a tunnel to the older library which was known as the Radcliffe Link, or ‘radder’. This network was redeveloped and extended in 2011, and renamed the Gladstone Link. 

So The Radcliffe Camera doesn’t have quite as interesting a purpose as you might have thought. It does, however, tie nicely into a fascinating theory about the preservation of Oxford throughout the second world War. Throughout the war, just about every major town and city in the south of England was being regularly targeted by German bombers. Fortunately for the residents of Oxford, over the course of the war not a single bomb was dropped on the city. Delighted though they were, the residents were also very surprised that the city was spared, as a bombing raid on Oxford had been considered inevitable for a number of reasons. Firstly, Oxford is a beautiful old city and it’s destruction would surely have had a significant negative impact the morale of the British people. Of course, the city is home to one of the most renowned academic institutions in the history of mankind: a beacon of knowledge, thought and research which was so vital to the Allied war effort. Another interesting point is that just a couple of kilometres to the south-east of the city centre sits an enormous factory; in the 1930s and 40s it employed almost 30,000 people, and during the war effort it’s efforts focussed on the production of wings for allied aircraft. It was absolutely crucial to the war effort. Side note: this factory is now owned and operated by BMW, so perhaps the Germans were just playing the long game. It’s also important to note that the city sits right on the River Thames. During night-time raids, German bombers would use the reflection of the moon on the river to navigate their way inland. They’d fly straight over Oxford and onwards to cities in the west like Coventry, Bristol and Bath. Surely if the bombers were flying straight over Oxford, they’d spare a bomb or two? Well, apparently not. 

There are a fair few theories as to why the city was spared, though there is surprisingly little evidence to support any of them. Perhaps the most common theory is the simplest: - - Hitler liked Oxford. Perhaps it was the architecture, the history, the prestige, it was possibly something to do with Blenheim Palace, a stunning stately home and birthplace of Winston Churchill, which sits just a few miles to the north of the city. This all sounds very feasible but the amount of hard evidence behind this theory amounts to exactly none. A number of people have pointed to the fact that Germany’s oldest Unviersity town, Heidelberg, was also spared from damage during the war; perhaps the British and Germans came to sort some of truce out of respect for history and academia? Again, it’s a nice tale but there isn’t much behind it. 

The theory I find most realistic is born from a memoir written by a man called Albert Speer, a Nazi and an architect by trade, who rose to become The Reich Minister of Armaments and War Production during the Second World war, and became one of the major war criminals to be tried at the Nuremberg Trials in the aftermath of WW2. In his memoirs, published shortly after his release from prison in 1966, Speer refers to the post-war plans of Nazi Germany and their requirement to secure suitably impressive governmental facilities around the new German Empire. Perhaps this was the reason behind Oxford’s preservation: People often think that the Radcliffe Camera is the centre-peice of the University of Oxford; had the early 1940s gone slightly differently it may very well have formed the centre-peice of a new Nazi Government in Britain. 

It’s a harrowing thought: Every building in Radcliffe Square outdates the mid-20th century by at least a few hundred years, so it’s not too much of a stretch to imagine that in this alternative timeline, the only visible differences in this square could have been the addition of some large red Swastika drapes dangling over the yellow stone buildings. A scary thought indeed. 

I invite you now to walk over to the main gates of All Souls College, on the southern face of Radcliffe Square, or to the left of the Rad Cam as you look at it from the Old Bodleian Library. All Souls is a rather unusual place - the only college of the University that does not offer places to students, it is without doubt the most difficult to get into. It is also host to perhaps the most unusual party you are ever going to have heard of.

All Souls is a rather an odd college. It’s the only of Oxford’s 38 colleges that doesn’t offer places to students. It’s also the quietest college in the city; every other is a hive of activity, but All Souls feels almost deserted. And that’s because it is. There are very few members of All Souls, on account of the fact that it’s very difficult to get in. The only way to gain membership to the college is to be offered what’s known as a Fellowship. For the record, Fellowships are typically given out to individuals who have done a particular service to a college, whether that be for long-serving or highly regarded academics and researchers, or perhaps for a financial donation. There are a number of fellowships on offer at All Souls, but the most well-known is certainly the Research Fellowship. 

To apply for the Research Fellowship, you must be a current or recently-graduated - post-graduate student at one of the other colleges at The University of Oxford. Around 80 applicants - the very best students from around the University - are invited to All Souls each year to sit a series of entrance exams. The applicants all gather at the College for the last weekend in September to sit four three-hour papers. The first two are ‘specialist’ papers, and relate specifically to each applicant’s field of study. The final two are general papers, where candidates have a selection of questions to choose from. Past examples of these papers are actually available on the All Soul’s website, and they make for some pretty interesting reading. There are a huge selection of questions for applicants to choose from, and some of them are quite wacky - my favourite comes from the 2015 paper - the question was - and I’d suggest that parents cover their childen’s ears about now -  “Does the moral character of a sex orgy change when the participants are wearing Nazi uniforms?”. You have three hours. Good luck. 

Until 2012, one of the General papers was swapped out in favour of an entirely different exam. Often referred to as ‘the most difficult exam in the world’, applicants would sit down at their desks, upon which a small envelope would be waiting. When the exam began, applicants would open up their envelopes to find a small piece of paper with a single word written on it. All Souls were always very secretive about this exam, but a few of the words have be shared by past applicants; Examples include Water, Error, and Bias, and Honesty. 

I am aware of a good story about this exam, though I must admit that I don’t know for sure that it’s true. Once upon a time, one applicant opened their envelope to find the word ‘Bravery’ written inside. They simply wrote down one word - ‘This’ - before leaving the exam hall. I’ve no idea whether their one-word response to the one-word exam was accepted but I love the creativity.

Of the 80 or so applicants each year, just one or two will be offered fellowships at the college. You might well be wondering why any person would want to become a member of this, most prestigious of institutions. Well, Fellows are entitled to a a pretty sweet list of benefits. Firstly, they receive a monthly stipend of £1438, 1438 being the year the college was founded in. Secondly, they’re given accommodation within the magnificent grounds of the college for the duration of their tenure. A big bonus for fellows is that they have access to unlimited funding for their research. This comes from the college’s healthy endowment - currently sitting at around £430 million, making it the third-wealthiest college at Oxford. Another huge perk for Fellows of All Souls College involves the luscious green grass that you see in and around just about every one of the city’s college. As you may know, students and visitors are absolutely not permitted to walk over the grass. Fellows of each college are permitted to walk across the grass of their own college, but All Souls fellows are permitted to walk on any patch of grass in the city. As you peer through the black iron gates of the college and onto the beautifully maintained front lawn, I will gladly bet each of you £10 that you do not see a person walking or standing on it. If you do - congratulations, you’ve just had a rare sighting of an All Souls fellow. 

Perhaps the most exclusive right of an All Souls Fellow is there invitation to attend a very special party that is hosted at the College, which, bizarrely, only occurs once every hundred years, on the 14th of January of the second year of each century - the last †jrroccurance being in 2001. It is known as The Mallard Hunt, and it dates back to the year 1401. A few decades before the college was actually founded as All Souls. Foundations for a hall were being laid where the college library now sits, and while clearing the ground, the builders came across an old water well, which had been sealed for a very long time. As the builders unsealed the well, out of it flew a Mallard duck. Those present were so astonished to see that this duck had survived in this well for so many years that they thought it must have been sent by God. The history of the party goes a little hazy after that, but to this day the Fellows of the college celebrate the appearance of this Holy Duck with an enormous feast. After plenty of food and copious amounts of alochol, the Fellows, all dressed in their formal gowns, parade around the college, searching for this imaginary duck. It is dark by this point, so they carry flaming torches and sing the famous Mallard Song. After many hours of searching and drinking, the fellows congregate at the College’s north gate, looking onto Radcliffe Square, where many thousands of Oxford’s residents gather to watch. Silence falls on the crowd, and the Warden, the principal, comes to stand before them. From behind his back, he pulls a spear, with a recently-deceased Mallard Duck impaled on the top of it. He launches it into the air, announces ‘Huzzah! We found him!’ and the crowd erupts into cheer and applause. Following that, the fellows turn and parade back into the college, and the party is over - for another century, at least. 

On now to the University Church of St Mary, which occupies the southern face of Radcliffe Squuare. We spoke a bit about the Rad Cam often being considered the ‘centre’ of the university by visitors to the city. If any landmark in Oxford truly could be considered the centre, it would certainly be St Mary’s Church. The church has actually been here quite a while longer than the University; the earliest record of a church at this location comes from a survey conducted in 1086, so it’s likely to have been constructed shortly after the Norman invasion and the arrival of Robert d’Oley in Oxford. It was regularly extended and rebuilt over the suceeding centuries, most notably in 1320 when the two storey extension was added to the north side of the chancel (side note: this area is now home to a lovely little cafe called The Vaults and Gardens - highly recommended). The oldest part of the church is the Tower, which dates from around 1270 and has been referred to by numerous Church historians as the most beautiful spire in England. The majority of the rest of the church was extended in the 14th and 15th centuries, and the original stonework was restored by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott in the 1850s. The church is free to enter, though there is a fee of £4 if you’d like to climb the 127 steps to the top of the tower. It’s wonderful exercise and there’s a fabulous view of the city from the top. As you wander around the inside of the church, you will see lots of interesting artifacts, such as the tomb of Adam de Brome, rector of the church in the 1320s, the remnants of some 15th century stained glass in the East window, and Cramner’s Pillar’, a stone pillar with a large chunk of stone that was removed in order to support a platform on which Archibishop Thomas Cramner stood during his own heresy trial in 1555. We’ll be hearing more about Mr Cramner and his experience in the church in a little while.

So, the Church is clearly very historic, rather beautiful, and as I’m sure you can guess, it has been of great importance to the residents of Oxford over most of the past millennium. But what does it have to do with the University? 

Well, quite a lot, actually. In the early days of the university, the church was adopted as a facility for lectures, ceremonies and ‘congregations’, which were formal meetings of senior members of the University. In the early 14th Century, the modest collection of the University’s books warranted a library. St Mary’s was chosen, which was the main reason for the construction of that two storey extension in 1320. The University library remained there until 1488, when the Duke Humphrey’s library, above the Divinity School, took over the role. Graduation ceremonies were hosted at the Church for over 500 years until 1667, when Sheldonian Theatre was completed. 

Perhaps the most famous event in the Church’s history took place in 1555, when it hosted the trial of three men, now known as the Oxford Martyrs. These men, Thomas Cramner, Nicolas Ridley and Hugh Latimer, were prominent Tudor Protestants who had come to varying degrees of power and influence over the course of the English Reformation, that dark and profoundly consequential period that you may remember from the previous episode, that one result of Henry VIII’s inability to keep his pants on. It’s a fascinating story, with betrayals, false promises and executions, and I will tell it to you at the end of the tour, when you’ll find yourself standing at the very point that the three men were - spoiler alert - burned alive at the stake. 

As you leave the church and head back into Radcliffe Square, turn left and head towards St Mary’s Passage, the alley dividing the western face of the Church with Brasenose College. As you walk down the alleyway, you will notice two doors: the one of your left, a part of the churhc, has glass windows that peer into an office; and on the right facing it is an older, more ornate wooden door. The reason you’re standing here is because of a man called Clive Staples Lewis, better know as CS Lewis, who was a student at University College and later a fellow of Magdalen College, both of which are just a short walk away.You’ll be hearing more about him in a later episode, as his time in Oxford was very much intertwined with another popular author, his good friend JRR Tolkien, but for now let me tell you that Mr Lewis was, for most of his adult life, an Anglican, and as such prayed and attended Mass at the University Church of St Mary several times a week during the 29 years that he spent as a Fellow. The door on your left, now with glass windows peering into an office, was, until 1982 an entrance to the Church reserved for the Fellows of the University. We can say with confidence that Mr Lewis walked up and down St Mary’s Passage countless times during his tenure as a Fellow, and with that being the case, any fans of his Narnia novels may well recognise a few suspiciously familiar features on the older wooden door facing the church. Firstly, you’ll notice the lion-like face carved into the centre of the door, and secondly the two fawn-like creatures decorating the eaves on either side of the door. Could they have been the inspiration for Aslan and Mr Tumnas? Perhaps. Coincidence? Very possibly. As you look at those engravings, think back to Lewis’ books - or perhaps the films if you’ve seen them - and try to recall the first thing that children see as they climb through the Wardrobe and tumble out into the snow of Narnia. Can you remember?  - - - - - It was a tall, black, lamp-post, identical, infact, to the one on your right! If you happen to be listening to this audio tour after dark, you’ll be able to see a very interesting distinguishing feature of the lampost. There are a great many identical lamposts in Oxford, and until the late 19th century, all of the city’s lamposts were powered by oil and burned a bright white light. When they were upgraded to gas power the light was changed to this warmer yellow, which all of the city’s lamposts feature today. All of the lamposts, that is, except this one, which as a vague historical anomaly still burns a white light - just like the lampost that the Children see in Narnia.

This brings us to the end of chapter 4 - I ask you now to cross the High Street and head over to Magpie Lane, one of the oldest streets in Oxford. On the next chapter, we’ll be covering quite a lot, including Inspector Morse, Jewish Funerals, Michellin Star meals and University exams. See you there.

 Magpie Lane

Hello there, and welcome back to the Oxford Audio Tour. Here in Chapter 5, we’re going to be walking through another ancient quarter of the city. Starting at the entrance to Magpie Lane, we’ll be meandering past several of the university’s oldest colleges, wandering down the city’s only remaining cobbled street, learning all about the archaic exams school before finishing up at an ancient Jewish cemetery, a lasting footprint of a once bustling community within the city. 

With it’s uneven paving and crooked buildings, Magpie Lane is every bit as old as it looks. From the narrow, understated entrance on the High Street, it’s hard to believe that Magpie Lane has occupied this space for over 800 years. The lane connects the High Street with Merton Street, forming a neighbourhood that houses some of the University’s most ancient colleges and buildings. While the crooked Edwardian and Gregorian houses lining the street add to the mystique, the lane’s innocent name hides it’s somewhat mistier past. The name Magpie Lane arose just after the English Civil War in the 17th century, when a brewery on the lane adopted a Magpie as it’s logo. Prior to that point, and for at least 400 years, the lane was known by a very different name, given for it’s transient residents, the ladies of the night, who were permitted by the authorities to sell their wares only on this one street. As a traveller in the 13th century you’d have found a small side street just like this one in just about every large town or city in England, and they were meant to be easily recognisable. It was for this reason that Magpie Lane was called, I think I’d best spell it out - G R O P E C U N T lane. Indeed, this street forms the earliest recorded use of the last four letters of that word. It was normal practice for medieval street names to reflect their function, and you would often come across such vulgarity. Other such examples from this time period include Cock Street, Pissing Alley, and Shitburne Lane. 

As you wander down Magpie Lane, you’ll see an interesting range of architecture:Tudor, Edwardian, Gothic, Victorian, and finally the modern building at the end of the lane, on the left. It has always surprised me that, in a city as historic and beautiful as Oxford, this kind of harsh, modern architecture was desirable or even permitted. It is a consequence of the social development of the University; throughout the early 20th century in particular, admissions to the university became increasingly dependent on an applicants academic merits, as opposed to their lineage, social standing or wealth. This fueled a dramatic increase in the number of students living in Oxford, and throughout the 1960s and 70s a lot of new student accommodation was required. The early modern architectural style was in vogue at the time, and that’s why you’ll see a lot of it in the city, particularly within the colleges themselves, interspersed with the ubiquitous yellow limestone that defines the city’s identity.

At the end of Magpie lane, you reach Merton Street. Along this street you will find five of the most beautiful and historic colleges in the city: Oriel, Christ Church, Corpus Christi, University, and, the one we’ll be discussing first, Merton College. It was founded all the way back in 1264, by a powerful Englishman called Walter de Merton, perhaps best known for being the chancellor to Kings Henry III and later Edward I. As you may recall, Balliol College was founded in 1263, just a few short months before Merton. In a city as competitive as Oxford, it’s hardly surprising to hear that these colleges are still debating which one is really the oldest. University College, which claims to have been around since 1249, is also a party to this discussion, which relates to technicalities of the definition of the term ‘college’. I won’t bore you with the details; this dull discussion has been raging for centuries now and will likely be raging for centuries to come. Suffice to say they are all very old. 

There is a long list of interesting facts and tales about Merton College. JRR Tolkien was a professor of English Language and Literature here for 14 years, and lived out the last years of his life, following years of undesirable celebrity attention and the unfortunate death of his wife. Merton’s Mob Quad is the oldest quadrangle at either Oxford or Cambridge, dating back to 1288. Famous alumni include Sir Andrew Wiles, the mathematician who solved the 350-year old Fermat’s Last Theorum, TS Eliot, the nobel prize winning poet, Yang Xianyi, the eminent Chinese literary translator who first translated many Eurpoean classics into Chinese, and many of China’s most important works into English, Stuart Hall, the groundbreaking cultural theorist, Sandy Irvine, who, alongside George Mallory, may have been the first person to summit Mount Everest in 1924, and Naruhito, the current Emperor of Japan. One interesting tale about Merton College relates to Naruhito, and his dissatisfaction with the quality of food that he was served during his time as a postgraduate student in the 1980s. His was so displeased  that on his graduation, he left a significant donation to the college, for the kitchens to be refurbished and funded for years to come. Thanks to his generosity, for almost a decade students of Merton College had their dinner prepared by a michelin star chef. 

Every college at Oxford has it’s own appeal, and prospective applicants have to weigh up the various pros and cons before deciding which one they want to attend. Delicious food at merton may well have been a pro, but it doesn’t tell the whole story of life at Merton. It’s a college that is well known for it’s consistently outstanding academic results. Since 2004, the Norrington Table ranks each college based on their annual undergraduate results. Merton College has only scored outside of the top 3 on one occasion, and has cemented it’s reputation as one of the most academically successful colleges of the university. This is part of the reason for the popular unofficial tag line at the university that Merton College is “where fun goes to die”. 

Take a left, and walk down the cobblestones of Merton Lane. An enormous amount of Oxford’s city centre was once cobbled, but over the past century in particular most of it has been replaced with tarmac. It’s unfortunate in many ways, but perhaps if you tried cycling down Merton Street you’d find out why it was so necessary. Merton Street is the last remaining cobbled street in the city, and as a consequence it features in a great many films and TV shows - Inspector Morse being a big one. As you wander down the lane, you’ll see some beautiful  historic architecture, including the old Postmaster’s office, the 16th century real tennis club, and Logic Lane, which intersects University College. 

Exam Halls

As you come to the end of Merton Street, follow it left until you see a very grand, imposing stone building behind a row of black iron gates on the left hand side. This Grade-II listed building is the University of Oxford Examinations School, where students come to sit their end of year exams. As one of the largest buildings of the University, it also hosts conferences and lectures throughout the academic year, and during the First World War it was requisitioned by the War Office to create the 3rd Southern General Hospital, a facility for the Royal Army Medical Corps to treat military casualties. Even in modern times, exams at Oxford are quite a spectacle - all students are required to wear traditional, formal dress, along with the appropriate academic gown - check out the Oxford Audio Tour website for a photograph. During exam season, it’s quite a sight to see the city’s streets brimming with nervous young students, dressed to the nines and on their way to sit their exams. One further detail is the inclusion of a carnation rose that students wear on their left lapel. For their first exam, students wear a white carnation rose; white is then swapped out for pink for the following exams until their last, when red is worn. If you ever see a student walking through the city with a red carnation rose in their lapel, it’s always nice to wish them luck because they are surely on their way to their final exam. How do you know they haven’t just finished their exam? Well, there’s an interesting tradition, known as ‘trashing’ which students engage in upon completing their exams for the year. In years gone by, this would take the form of a game in which the celebrating student would have to make it from the entrance to the exam schools all the way back to their dormitories without being caught by their friends. If they were caught, they would be trashed - attacked with champagne, whipped cream, and confetti - or perhaps eggs, shaving cream and breadcrumbs if your pals had a tight budget. Nowadays, with students all sitting exams around the same time in Trinity term, the ‘hunt’ is usually done away with and students meet at a pre-agreed spot to trash each other - often down New College Lane or by the River Churwell, where they can take a quick dip to clean themselves off. If you take a very close look in the crevices of the pavement beneath your feet, or perhaps in the bushes near the examination school gates, you may spot an old piece of confetti languishing among the leaves since the last exam season. 

Continue up the road now to the High Street. At the entrance to Merton Street, where your standing, is where the East Gate to the great city walls once stood. I’ve put together a great map of where this city wall used to sit, and the various remaining bastions and foundations that are still visible. It’s accessible on the oxford audio tour website if you’d like to see it. For now, turn right. In around 20 yards and on the right hand side, You’ll see Rose Lane. We’re going to be heading down there in a moment, but for now your gaze will surely be drawn to Magdalen Tower, part of the famous Magdalen College. Built in 1509, Magdalen Tower is a very important focal point of Oxonian tradition, thanks to the annual May Day celebrations. Every year in the early hours of May 1st, students and townspeople gather on Magdalen Bridge, at the foot of the tower, to watch the sunrise and welcome in the summer season. The Magdalen College Choir sing hymns from atop the tower, and at the strike of 6 o’clock in the morning, the bell towers start to ring. At this point, students are known to jump off the bridge and into the river below, a tradition which dates back centuries. f you do take the time to walk over to the bridge, and I would recommend that you do, you’ll notice that the water beneath it is really rather shallow. Another defining feature of May Morning are the presence of ambulances, ready to cater for the inevitable broken ankles and wrists of these students, every single one of whom will have been drinking and partying since at least the evening before. 

Magdalen College is a truly astonishing place. I will be recording a separate audio tour for each of the key colleges, including this one. Entrance is about £6 per person, and it’s well worth paying to see the beautiful grounds, including the Fellow’s Garden, perhaps the best kept secret in the city. For now though, we’re just heading up Rose Lane a few feet before turning left and into a beautiful Rose garden, close to the entrance to the University’s Botanical Gardens. This garden sits on an ancient Jewish cemetery, dating back to the 12th century. An ancient footpath, Deadman’s walk, links this cemetery with the Jewish quarter around modern day St Aldates Street, which we’ll be visiting later. It has been preserved for over 800 years, in recognition of this community which contributed to the growth of this city and it’s University through the 12th and 13th centuries. Life for Jews in England became very difficult in the 13th century. As they were not bound by Canon Law, Jews were able to loan money for profit, a practice forbidden by the Catholic Church. This made them extremely unpopular with the church, and therefore with the wider Christian population. Jews were subject to all sorts of awful rumours, many of which were propagated by the most powerful figures in society. King Henry III, for example, endorsed a rumour that Jews hunted for Christian children, in order to murder them and use them to cook unlevened matzah for Passover. In 1218, in a terrible foreshadowing of events hundreds of years in the future, Henry proclaimed the Edict of the Badge, requiring all Jews to wear a yellow identification badge. In 1290, the Jews were expelled from England by King Edward the 1st. They were not permitted to return for over 350 years. 

Continue up Rose Lane, up to the wrought Iron gates at the end, and through them into Christ Church Meadow. 

Christ Church, the college which owns the meadow, was founded by Cardinal Thomas Woolsey back in 1525. Woolsey wanted his college, originally named Cardinal’s College, to be the grandest and most splendid in Oxford. To this end, he purchased this huge meadow to endow his new college. We’ll be talking a little more about Christ Chuch later on - for now, just know that this meadow is the only area in England that runs on it’s own time zone. ‘Oxford Time’, as it’s known, is five minutes slower than the rest of the country, as a consequence of Oxford being almost exactly one degree of latitude to the west of the Greenwich Meridian in London. Enter the meadow and walk straight, up to the banks of the River Churwell, where Chapter six will kick off with the story of a very well known young lady who once lived here. 

Welcome to Chapter six of the Oxford Audio Tour. In this episode, we’re taking a stroll through Christ Church, where we’ll be discussing two of the most famous stories in English literature, before heading up through the old Jewish quarter and up to the city’s oldest pub. There, you’ll be welcome to stop off for a well deserved sit down next to the fire, with a pint of local bitter or perhaps a hot chocolate.

As you stand at the banks of the River Churwell, what you see will depend on the time of year. In summer, you may see a cricket match underway across the river, at Magdalen College School, a private secondary school which traditionally feeds its bright and wealthy young students into Magdalen College. You’re also likely to see young students rowing or punting on the river. Punting is one of the most stereotypically activities in Oxford and Cambridge. If you can’t see one, a punt is much like a rectangular rowing boat, with space for four to sit. In addition, one person stands at one end of the punt with a long pole, known in Oxbridge parlance as a Quant. There are several places to rent punts in Oxford, and most colleges have their own harboured at points along the River. It’s a wonderful way to spend a sunny day, heading off with your pals to find a quiet spot to have a picnic, or a few glasses of champagne.

Funnily enough, it was on this very stretch of water that a very famous story was once told. It was told by a man called Charles Dodgeson, who was a mathematics professor at Christ Church back in the mid-19th century. Dodgeson was a bit of an unusual fellow: various accounts describe him as a quiet, shy and almost reclusive individual. He has suffered from Hooping cough and a child, which had weakened him significantly and left him with a lingering stutter. His quiet disposition led him to avoid social interactions with his peers, though he was known to be close friends with the young daughters of the Dean of Chirst Church at the time, Henry Lidell. Lidell had three daughters, the youngest of whom was called Alice. On the 4th July 1862, to celebrate Alice’s 10th birthday several weeks earlier, Dodgeson took her and her two sisters on a rowing trip up the River, from the ground of Christ Church to the village of Godstow, a few miles to the north. On the trip, Alice asked Dodgeson to tell them a story to keep them entertained. Dodgeson had done as she wished, and embarked on this mad tale of a young girl who, after finding a rabbit hole tucked behind on of the trees along the banks of the river, tumbled through it before emerging in this unusual wonderland. Alice and her sisters absolutely loved the story, and Dodgeson promised to write it down for them so that they could reread it and enjoy it to their heart’s content. It took Dodgeson two years to make good on this promise, but in November of 1864, Dodgeson provided her with this manuscript, entitled ‘Alice’s Adventures Underground’, along with a note saying “A Christmas Gift to a Dear Child, in Memory of a Summer's Day”. Dodgeson had also provided a copy of this manuscript to his friend George Macdonald, himself a father and well known early author of the fantasy genre. He was not too surprised when Macdonald approached him with a proposition: to illustrate the story and have it published. Initially, Dodgeson was reluctant: as a serious academic, he worried that an association with children’s fantasy literature would affect his reputation, as indeed it would around a century later when J R R Tolkien published The Hobbit, and found himself ostracised among many of his academic peers. Ultimately, Dodgeson was persuaded, though to distance himself from the publication he hid behind a pseudonym that he had once used to publish a series of romantic poems several years before. The alias was Lewis Carroll, a play on his real name: Lewis was the anglicised form of Ludovicus,  Latin for Lutwidge; and Carroll an Irish surname similar to the Latin name Carolus, from which comes the name Charles.

The story was finally published in 1865, and shot to overnight success around the country and later around the world. Despite the popularity of the story, Dodgeson was very successful in hiding behind his alias, and as a result most people to this day are unaware that Lewis Carroll was not a real person. 

There was, however, one individual who was able to identify the man behind the mask. Queen Victoria was said to have been so impressed with the story that she wrote to Dodgeson, firstly to express her gratitude for his work, and also to request an early copy of his next publication, whatever it might be. I suppose this is not unusual behaviour from someone with such power, and Dodgeson obliged. Upon his next publication in 1867, he packaged up a copy and sent it to Queen Victoria. You can imagine her excitement upon receiving this package. She ripped it open and set her eyes upon a brand new copy of Dodgeson’s as yet unpublished work: An Elementary Treatise on Determinants, With Their Application to Simultaneous Linear Equations and Algebraic Equations. I’m sure it wasn’t quite what she had in mind. 

Turn now and walk westwards towards Christ Church’s main college buildings. As you do so, you’ll have the river to your back and a large, untended area of Christ Church Meadow to your left. In this untended area, you may notice two things: firstly, a bronze age barrow, or burial site, dating back to around 1800 BC. You may also notice, depending on the time of year, a herd of long-horned cattle, each costing Christ Church in the region of £80,000. I’ve always thought of these cattle being decorative, in the way some wealthy individual might like to park all of their expensive cars on their driveway. 

As you are walking up to Christ Church, let me tell you a bit about it. As I mentioned earlier, it was founded as Cardinal’s College in 1525 by Cardinal Thomas Woolsey, a key figure in England’s social and religious history. Woolsey had held various positions of increasing power and significance under King Henry VIII, most notably Lord Chancellor and Papal legate, making him the second most powerful person in England after the King. Using funds from the dissolution of nearby monasteries, Woolsey planned the establishment of a new college unmatched in size and prestige. Unfortunately for Woolsey, in 1529 he fell out of favour with the tyrillian King after he failed to negotiate an annulment of Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon. Having been stripped of most of his titles, land and wealth, Wooley was recalled to London to answer to charges of treason, but died of natural causes during the journey. Following his fall from grace, Henry took over Cardinal’s College, immodestly rebranding it as King Henry VIII’s College, before it was finally renamed as Christ Church. As part of this restructuring following Henry’s break with the Catholic Church in Rome, Christ Church’s chapel was made Cathedral of the recently created Diocese of Oxford. 

Woolsey would get his wish. Though he wasn’t around to enjoy it, Christ Church has cemented itself as the grandest and most architecturally impressive of the Oxford colleges. This prestige has turned out to be somewhat of a poisoned chalice. Christ Chuch is far more popular with tourists than any other college in the city, and lamentably it often feels more like a museum or theme park than an actual community, as the other colleges do. This was not helped by Christ Church’s role in the Harry Potter movies, which is something I’d like to talk about briefly. You’ve now had the chance to have a good wander around the city, and I’ve no doubt that you have noticed the multitude of shops selling souvenirs, trinkets, and Harry Potter merchandise. People from every corner of the globe now have this idea that Oxford played some significant role in the Harry Potter films, but it isn’t entirely true. In total, only a few minutes of the movies were shot in Oxford: The Divinity School played the part of the Hogwarts Infirmary and the Room of Requirement; New College’s Cloisters hosted the scene in which Malfoy is transfigured into a ferret; and finally a scene close the start of the first flim, in which the new students gather on a staircase in Hogwarts to be greeted by Professor McGonigal. Those stairs are in Christ Church, and lead up to the college’s impressive dining hall. A popular misconception would have you believe that the Christ Church dining hall was used at the Great Hall in Hogwarts - a misconception Christ Church are only too happy to stoke. On a Saturday afternoon in July, the queue to get into the college could be a hundred metres long; thousands of people, many dressed in tawrdy Harry Potter garb, waiting to pay £12 per person to see the wonderful dining hall. As it happens, the Great Hall of Hogwarts was built in a film studio about 50 miles away on the outskirts of London. The story goes that the producers came to visit Christ Church but decided it wasn’t large enough. Despite this connection, Christ Church is a truly stunning college and I’d certainly recommend you take the time to check it out. That is, unless you are a die hard Harry Potter fan. I once heard that the meadow entrance to Christ Church used to be where patrons would both enter and exit the college grounds, but the college had to move the exit over to their eastern gate because there were so many tears spilt by young children, whose parents had promised them Hogwarts and had not delivered on their promises. 

Please feel free to pause here and enter Christ Church if you wish. At some point soon, I’ll get around to recording an audio tour of the college grounds, which will be listed on the Oxford Audio Tour website. When you’re ready to continue, keep walking past the college towards St Aldates. You’ll walk through the magnificent War Memorial garden, from which there is a wonderful view of Christ Church to your right. Head out onto St Aldates, and up the hill to your right hand side. After 100 yards or so, you’ll walk past Tom Tower, the western entrance to Christ Church. The traditionally dressed college porters won’t let you inside, but you can get a nice view of the so called Tom Quad. I’ve created a great album of Christ Church on the website - check it out if you are so inclined. For now, continue up St Aldates to Bear Lane, on the right hand side. About 100 yards down Bear Lane, you will come to The Bear, the oldest and coziest pub in Oxford. Feel free to head inside for a drink - throughout the colder part of the year, you’re likely to see a couple of open roaring fires on the inside too. The next Chapter will start with the story of this wonderful pub, before we head up to another one of Oxford’s hidden gems, the Covered Market. See you there.