That dangerous debunker and radical, William Cobbett (1763-1835), conducting his Rural Rides into Oxfordshire in the 1820s, spent much of his time denouncing exactly the same social changes that many grumpy old men enjoy complaining about now.

During his ride of 1826, Cobbett lamented that the “Squires of Change Ally” — that is to say Bankers down from London (DFLs) — were setting themselves up as local gentry — “a gentry only now and then residing at all, having no relish for country delights, foreign in their manners, distant and haughty in their behaviour, looking to the soil only for their rents . . . unacquainted with the cultivators, despising them and their pursuits”.

Sound familiar? Cobbett, despite his reputation as an early socialist, was a conservative at heart. He hated anything that might spell change in the rural idyll, such as new roads that might enable villagers to move to the growing towns, or new people to move in. He probably would have agreed with the Duke of Wellington, who opposed railways on the grounds that they enabled “the working classes to move about”.

“’Twere ever thus”, is a phrase that I, for one, often think to myself when writing these columns and discovering that a problem is far from new. But what is new is unprecedented population increase, that great elephant in the Oxfordshire countryside, and in its towns too. Even grumpy old men shift uncomfortably on their bar stools if told there are now too many of us.

When Cobbett journeyed into Oxfordshire the population was increasing faster than ever before or since. Between 1801 and 1851 it increased from 111,977 to 170,434, or 52.2 per cent; in Oxford itself it increased even more dramatically, from 13,421 to 30,410 or 126.6 per cent. And in Banbury it went up from 3,810 to 8,206 or 115.4 per cent.

In the next half century, though, from 1851-1901, the county’s population stagnated — in contrast to that of Oxford, which increased 77 per cent from 29,900 to 52,900. The population of Oxfordshire villages actually dropped 13 per cent from 99,700 to 86,500.

Now there are about 635,500 of us in Oxfordshire, according to the county council, with 155,000 in Oxford. ’Twere never thus before.

At the University of Oxford there are now more than 21,000 students, of whom about 11,752 are undergraduates. In 1971, there were 11,071 students at Oxford University. Figures for students at the turn of the 19th century are not known, but according to the University Calendar there were 3,110 undergraduates in 1890.

The city’s population grew after the 1877 Royal Commission swept away the requirement for dons to be celibate The Town Hall was rebuilt in 1897 by architect Henry Hare in as showy a style as possible in a bid to celebrate the city’s burgeoning importance.

The irony here, though, is that population growth should be seen as an indicator of economic growth at all. After the Black Death in the 14th century, special laws had to be passed to stop workers demanding higher wages because, of course, there were then fewer people about to share the economic cake.

Between a third and a half of Oxford residents either died or moved away following the Plague of 1348-9. After the second outbreak in 1361, only 2,357 men and women over 14 were paying poll tax. At the time of Domesday in 1086 there were apparently 1018 houses in Oxford, or about 4,500 people.

As for grumpy old men, few these days would probably dare endorse Cobbetts view that “the great and prevalent characteristics” of Oxford academics were “folly, emptiness of head, and want of talent”. But most would concur with his comments about the dreadfulness of any change whatsoever being allowed to occur in that holy of holies, the English village.