"Who is that buffoon that travesties the travesty? Who is that old cripple alighted from his donkey-cart, who dispenses doggrel and grimaces in all the glory of plush and printed calico?"

"That, my most noble cynic, is a prodigious personage. Shall birth-days and coronations be recorded in immortal odes, and Montem not have its minstrel 1 He, sir, is Herbertus Stockhore; who first called upon his muse in the good old days of Paul Whitehead,—

2 See plate of the Montem, sketched on the spot.

3 See Knight's Quarterly Magazine, No. II.

~102~~ run a race with Pye through all the sublimities of lyres and fires,—and is now hobbling to his grave, after having sung fourteen Montems, the only existing example of a legitimate laureate.

"He ascended his heaven of invention, before the vulgar arts of reading and writing, which are banishing all poetry from the world, could clip his wings. He was an adventurous soldier in his boyhood; but, having addicted himself to matrimony and the muses, settled as a bricklayer's labourer at Windsor. His meditations on the house-tops soon grew into form and substance; and, about the year 1780, he aspired, with all the impudence of Shad well, and a little of the pride of Petrarch, to the laurel-crown of Eton. From that day he has worn his honors on his 'Cibberian forehead' without a rival."

"And what is his style of composition?"

"Vastly naive and original;—though the character of the age is sometimes impressed upon his productions. For the first three odes, ere the school of Pope was extinct, he was a compiler of regular couplets such as—

'Ye dames of honor and lords of high renown, Who come to visit us at Eton town.'"

During the next nine years, when the remembrance of Collins and Gray was working a glorious change in the popular mind, he ascended to Pindarics, and closed his lyrics with some such pious invocation as this:—

'And now we'll sing God save the king,

And send him long to reign, That he may come To have some fun At Montem once again. '

During the first twelve years of the present century, the influence of the Lake school was visible in his ~103~~ productions. In my great work I shall give an elaborate dissertation on his imitations of the high-priests of that worship; but I must now content myself with a single illustration:—

'There's ensign Ronnell, tall and proud, Doth stand upon the hill, And waves the flag to all the crowd, Who much admire his skill. And here I sit upon my ass, Who lops his shaggy ears; Mild thing! he lets the gentry pass, Nor heeds the carriages and peel's.'

He was once infected (but it was a venial sin) by the heresies of the cockney school; and was betrayed, by the contagion of evil example, into the following conceits:

'Behold admiral Keato of the terrestrial crew, Who teaches Greek, Latin, and likewise Hebrew; He has taught Captain Dampier, the first in the race, Swirling his hat with a feathery grace, Cookson the marshal, and Willoughby, of size, Making minor serjeant-majors in looking-glass eyes.'

But he at length returned to his own pure and original style; and, like the dying swan, he sings the sweeter as he is approaching the land where the voice of his minstrelsy shall no more be heard. There is a calm melancholy in the close of his present ode which is very pathetic, and almost Shakspearian:—

'Farewell you gay and happy throng! Farewell my muse! farewell my song! Farewell Salt-hill! farewell brave captain.'

Yet, may it be long before he goes hence and is no more seen! May he limp, like his rhymes, for at least a dozen years; for National schools have utterly annihilated our hopes of a successor!"

"I will not attempt to reason with you," said the inquirer, "about the pleasures of Montem;—but to an ~104~~ Etonian it is enough that it brings pure and ennobling recollections—calls up associations of hope and happiness—and makes even the wise feel that there is something better than wisdom, and the great that there is something nobler than greatness. And then the faces that come about us at such a time, with their tales of old friendships or generous rivalries. I have seen to-day fifty fellows of whom I remember only the nick-names;—they are now degenerated into scheming M.P.'s, or clever lawyers, or portly doctors; -but at Montera they leave the plodding world of reality for one day, and regain the dignities of sixth-form Etonians." {4}

4 To enumerate all the distinguished persons educated at Eton would be no easy task; many of the greatest ornaments of our country have laid the foundation of all their literary and scientific wealth within the towers of this venerable edifice. Bishops Fleetwood and Pearson, the learned John Hales, Dr. Stanhope, Sir Robert Walpole, the great Earl Camden, Outred the mathematician, Boyle the philosopher, Waller the poet, the illustrious Earl of Chatham, Lord Lyttelton, Gray the poet, and an endless list of shining characters have owned Eton for their scholastic nursery: not to mention the various existing literati who have received their education at this celebrated college. The local situation of Eton is romantic and pleasing; there is a monastic gloom about the building, finely contrasting with the beauty of the surrounding scenery, which irresistibly enchains the eye and heart.



~105~~



FAREWELL TO ETON.

Horatio had just concluded the last sentence of the description of the Eton Montem, when my aunt, who had now exceeded her usual retiring time by at least half an hour, made a sudden start, upon hearing the chimes of the old castle clock proclaim a notice of the midnight hour. "Heavens! boy," said Lady Mary Oldstyle, "what rakes we are! I believe we must abandon all intention of inviting your friend Bernard here; for should his conversation prove half as entertaining as these miscellaneous whims and scraps of his early years, we should, I fear, often encroach upon the midnight lamp." "You forget, aunt," replied Horatio, "that the swallow has already commenced his spring habitation beneath the housings of our bed-room window, that the long summer evenings will soon be here, and then how delightful would be the society of an intelligent friend to accompany us in our evening perambulations through the park, to chat away half an hour with in the hermitage, or to hold converse on your favourite subject botany, and run through all the varieties of the camelia japonica, or the magnolia fuscata; then too, I will confess, my own selfishness in the proposition, the pleasure of my friend's company in my fishing excursions, would divest my favourite amusement of its solitary character." 106~ My aunt nodded assent, drew the cowl of her ancient silk cloak over the back part of her head, and, with a half-closed eye, muttered out, in tones of sympathy, her fullest accordance in the proposed arrangement. "I have only one more trifle to read," said Horatio, "before I conclude the history of our school-boy days." "We had better have the bed-candles," said my aunt. "You had better hear the conclusion, aunt," said Horatio, "and then we can commence the English Spy with the evening of to-morrow." My aunt wanted but little excitement to accede to the request, and that little was much exceeded in the promise of Horatio's reading Bernard's new work on the succeeding evening, when she had calculated on being left in solitary singleness by her nephew's visit to the county ball. "You must know, aunt," said Horatio, "that it has been a custom, from time immemorial at Eton, for every scholar to write a farewell ode on his leaving, which is presented to the head master, and is called a Vale; in addition, some of the most distinguished characters employ first-rate artists to paint their portraits, which, as a tribute of respect, they present to the principal. Dr. Barnard had nearly a hundred of these grateful faces hanging in his sanctum sanctorum, and the present master bids fair to rival his learned and respected predecessor. ~107~~ My friend's Vale, like every other production of his pen, is marked by the distinguishing characteristic eccentricity of his mind. The idea, I suspect, was suggested by the Earl of Carlisle's elegant verses, to which he has previously alluded; you will perceive he has again touched upon the peculiarities of his associates, the dramatis persono of 'the English Spy,' and endeavoured, in prophetic verse, to unfold the secrets of futurity, as it relates to their dispositions, prospects, and pursuits in life."



MY VALE.

In infancy oft' by observance we trace What life's future page may unfold; Who the senate, the bar, or the pulpit may grace,

Who'll obtain wreathe of fame or of gold. My Vale, should my muse prove but willing and free,

Parting sorrows to chase from my brain, Shall in metre prophetic, on some two or three,

Indulge in her whimsical vein. First Keate let me give to thy talents and worth,

A tribute that all will approve; When Atropos shall sever thy life's thread on earth

Thou shalt fall rich in honor and love. Revered as respected thy memory last,

~108~~

Long, long, as Etona is known, Engraved on the hearts of thy scholars, the blast

Of detraction ne'er sully thy stone. Others too I could name and as worthy of note,

But my Vale 'twould too lengthy extend: Sage Domine all,—all deserving my vote, Who the tutor combine with the friend. But a truce with these ancients, the young I must seek,

The juvenile friends of my heart, Of secrets hid in futurity speak,

And tell how they'll each play their part. First Heartly, the warmth of thy generous heart

Shall expand with maturity's years; New joys to the ag'd and the poor thou'lt impart,

And dry up pale Misery's tears. Next honest Tom Echo, the giddy and gay,

In sports shall all others excel; And the sound of his horn, with "Ho! boys, hark—away!" Re-echo his worth through life's dell.

~109~~

Horace Eglantine deep at Pierian spring Inspiration poetic shall quaff, In numbers majestic with Shakespeare to sing,

Or in Lyrics with Pindar to laugh. Little Gradus, sage Dick, you'll a senator see,

But a lawyer in every sense, Whose personal interest must paramount be,

No matter whate'er his pretence. The exquisite Lilyman Lionise mark,

Of fashion the fool and the sport; With the gamesters a dupe, he shall drop like a spark,

Forgot by the blaze of the court. Bob Transit,—if prudent, respected and rich

By his talent shall rise into note; And in Fame's honor'd temple be sure of a niche,

By each R.A.'s unanimous vote. Bernard Blackmantle's fortune alone is in doubt,

For prophets ne'er tell of themselves; But one thing his heart has a long time found out,

~110~~

'Tis his love for Etonian elves. For the college, and dames, and the dear playing fields

Where science and friendship preside, For the spot which the balm of true happiness yields,

As each day by its fellow doth glide. Adieu, honor'd masters! kind dames, fare thee well!

Ye light-hearted spirits adieu! How feeble my Vale—my griev'd feelings to tell As Etona declines from my view.



~112~~

"Men are my subject, and not fictions vain; Oxford my chaunt, and satire is my strain."



FIVE CHARACTERISTIC ORDERS OF OXFORD.



~113~~



THE FRESHMAN.

Reflections on leaving Eton—A University Whip—Sketches on the Road—The Joneses of Jesus—Picturesque Appearance of Oxford from the Distance—The Arrival—Welcome of an Old Etonian—Visit to Dr. Dingyman—A University Don— Presentation to the Big Wig—Ceremony of Matriculation.

"Yes; if there be one sacred scene of ease, Where reason yet may dawn, and virtue please; Where ancient science bursts again to view With mightier truths, which Athens never knew, One spot to order, peace, religion dear; Rise, honest pride, nor blush to claim it here."

Who shall attempt to describe the sensations of a young and ardent mind just bursting from the trammels of scholastic discipline to breathe the purer air of classic freedom—to leap at once from ~114~~ boyhood and subjection into maturity and unrestricted liberty of conduct; or who can paint the heart's agitation, the conflicting passions which prevail when the important moment arrives that is to separate him from the associates of his infancy; from the endearing friendships of his earliest years; from his schoolboy sports and pastimes (often the most grateful recollections of a riper period); or from those ancient spires and familiar scenes to which his heart is wedded in its purest and earliest love.

Reader, if you have ever tasted of the delightful cup of youthful friendship, and pressed with all the glow of early and sincere attachment the venerable hand of a kind instructor, or met the wistful eye and hearty grasp of parting schoolfellows, and ancient dames, and obliging servants, you will easily discover how embarrassing a task it must be to depict in words the agitating sensations which at such a moment spread their varied influence over the mind. I had taken care to secure the box seat of the old Oxford, that on my approach I might enjoy an uninterrupted view of the classic turrets and lofty spires of sacred {Academus}. Contemplation had fixed his seal upon my young lips for the first ten miles of my journey. Abstracted and thoughtful, I had scarce turned my eye to admire the beauties of the surrounding scenery, or lent my ear to the busy hum of my fellow passengers' conversation, when a sudden action of the coach, which produced a sensation of alarm, first broke the gloomy mist that had encompassed me. After my fears had subsided, I inquired of the coachman what was the name of the place we had arrived at, and was answered Henley.-"Stony Henley, sir," said our driver: "you might have discovered that by the bit of a shake we just now experienced. I'll bet a bullfinch{1} that you know the place well enough, my young master, before you've been two terms at Oxford."

1 A sovereign.

~115~~

This familiarity of style struck me as deserving reprehension; but I reflected this classic Jehu was perhaps licensed by the light-hearted sons of Alma Mater in these liberties of speech. Suspending therefore my indignation, I proceeded,—"And why so?" said I inquisitively:—"Why I know when I was an under graduate{2} of ——, where my father was principal, I used to keep a good prad here for a bolt to the village,{3} and then I had a fresh hack always on the road to help me back to chapel prayers."{4} The nonchalance of the speaker, and the easy indifference with which he alluded to his former situation in life, struck me with astonishment, and created a curiosity to know more of his adventures; he had, I found, brought himself to his present degradation by a passion for gaming and driving, which had usurped every just and moral feeling. His father, I have since learned, felt his conduct deeply, and had been dead some time. His venerable mother having advanced him all her remaining property, was now reduced to a dependence upon the benevolence of a few liberal-minded Oxford friends, and this son of the once celebrated head of————college was now so lost to every sense of shame that he preferred the Oxford road to exhibit himself on in his new character of a {university whip}.

2 The circumstances here narrated are unfortunately too notorious to require further explanation: the character, drawn from the life, forms the vignette to this chapter.

3 A cant phrase for a stolen run to the metropolis. No unusual circumstance with a gay Oxonian, some of whom have been known to ride the same horse the whole distance and back again after prayers, and before daylight the next morning.

4 When (to use the Oxford phrase) a man is confined to chapel, or compelled to attend chapel prayers, it is a dangerous risk to be missing,—a severe imposition and sometimes rustication is sure to be the penalty.

~116~~ Immediately behind me on the roof of the vehicle sat a rosy-looking little gentleman, the rotundity of whose figure proclaimed him a man of some substance; he was habited in a suit of clerical mixture, with the true orthodox hat and rosette in front, the broadness of its brim serving to throw a fine mellow shadow over the upper part of a countenance, which would have formed a choice study for the luxuriant pencil of some modern Rubens; the eyes were partially obscured in the deep recesses of an overhanging brow, and a high fat cheek, and the whole figure brought to my recollection a representation I had somewhere seen of Silenus reproving his Bacchanals: the picture was the more striking by the contrasted subjects it was opposed to: on one side was a spare-looking stripling, of about the age of eighteen, with lank hair brushed smoothly over his forehead, and a demure, half-idiot-looking countenance, that seemed to catch what little expression it had from the reflection of its sire, for such I discovered was the ancient's affinity to this cadaverous importation from North Wales. The father, a Welsh rector of at least one hundred and fifty pounds per annum, was conveying his eldest born to the care of the principal of Jesus, of which college the family of the Joneses{5} had been a leading name since the time of their great ancestor Hugh ap Price, son of Rees ap Rees, a wealthy burgess of Brecknock, who founded this college for the sole use of the sons of Cambria, in 1571.

5 DAVID JONES OR, WINE AND WORSTED.

Hugh Morgan, cousin of that Hugh Whose cousin was, the Lord knows who, Was likewise, as the story runs, Tenth cousin of one David Jones. David, well stored with classic knowledge, Was sent betimes to Jesus College; Paternal bounty left him clear For life one hundred pounds a year; And Jones was deem'd another Croesus Among the Commoners of Jesus. It boots not here to quote tradition, In proof of David's erudition;— He could unfold the mystery high, Of Paulo-posts, and verbs in u; Scan Virgil, and, in mathematics, Prove that straight lines were not quadratics. All Oxford hail'd the youth's ingressus, And wond'ring Welshmen cried "Cot pless us!" It happen'd that his cousin Hugh Through Oxford pass'd, to Cambria due, And from his erudite relation Receiv'd a written invitation.

~117~~

Hugh to the college gate repair'd, And ask'd for Jones;—the porter stared! "Jones! Sir," quoth he, "discriminate: Of Mr. Joneses there be eight." "Ay, but 'tis David Jones," quoth Hugh; Quoth porter, "We've six Davids too." "Cot's flesh!" cries Morgan, "cease your mockings, My David Jones wears worsted stockings!" Quoth porter, "Which it is, Heaven knows, For all the eight wear worsted hose." "My Cot!" says Hugh, "I'm ask'd to dine With cousin Jones, and quaff his wine." "That one word 'wine' is worth a dozen," Quoth porter, "now I know your cousin; The wine has stood you, sir, in more stead Than David, or the hose of worsted; You'll find your friend at number nine— We've but one Jones that quaffs his wine."

All these particulars I gleaned from the rapid delivery of the Welsh rector, who betrayed no little anxiety to discover if I was of the university; how long I had been matriculated; what was my opinion of the schools, and above all, if the same system of extravagance was pursued by the students, and under-graduates. Too cautious to confess myself a freshman, I was therefore compelled to close the inquiry with a simple negative to his early questions, and an avowal of my ignorance in the last particular. The deficiency was, however, readily supplied by an old gentleman, who sat on the other side of the reverend Mr. Jones. I had taken ~118~~ him, in the first instance, for a doctor of laws, physic, or divinity, by the studied neatness of his dress, the powdered head, and ancient appendage of a queue; with a measured manner of delivery, joined to an affected solemnity of carriage, and authoritative style. He knew every body, from the Vice-Chancellor to the scout; ran through a long tirade against driving and drinking, which he described as the capital sins of the sons of Alma Mater, complimented the old rector on his choice of a college for his son, and concluded with lamenting the great extravagance of the young men of the present day, whose affection for long credit compelled honest tradesmen to make out long bills to meet the loss of interest they sustain by dunning and delay. "Observe, sir," said he,

"The youth of England in our happy age! See, to their view what varied pleasure springs, Cards, tennis, hilliards, and ten thousand things; 'Tis theirs the coat with neater grace to wear, Or tie the neckcloth with a royal air: The rapid race of wild expense to run; To drive the tandem or the chaise and one; To float along the Isis, or to fly In haste to Abingdon,—who knows not why? To gaze in shops, and saunter hours away In raising bills, they never think to pay: Then deep carouse, and raise their glee the more, While angry duns assault th' unheeding door, And feed the best old man that ever trod, The merry poacher who defies his God."

"You forget the long purses, Sir E—," said our classical Jehu, "which some of the Oxford tradesmen have acquired by these long practices of the university, Sir E—." The little Welsh rector bowed with astonishment, while his rustic scion stared with wild alarm to find himself for the first time in his life in company with a man of title. A wink from coachee accompanied with an action of his rein angle against my side, followed by a suppressed laugh, prepared me ~119~~ for some important communications relative to my fellow traveller. "An old snyder,"{6} whispered Jehu, "who was once mayor of Oxford, and they do say was knighted by mistake,—' a thing of shreds and patches,'

'Who, by short skirts and little capes, Items for buckram, twist, and tapes, '

has, in his time, fine drawn half the university; but having retired from the seat of trade, now seeks the seat of the Muses, and writes fustian rhymes and bell-men's odes at Christmas time: a mere clod, but a great man with the corporation."

We had now arrived on the heights within a short distance of the city of Oxford, and I had the gratification for the first time to obtain a glance of sacred Academus peeping from between the elm groves in which she is embowered, to view those turrets which were to be the future scene of all my hopes and fears. Never shall I forget the sensations,

"——When first these glistening eyes survey'd Majestic Oxford's hundred towers display'd; And silver Isis rolling at her feet Adorn the sage's and the poet's seat: Saw Radcliffe's dome in classic beauty rear'd, And learning's stores in Bodley's pile revered; First view'd, with humble awe, the steps that stray'd Slow in the gloom of academic shade, Or framed in thought, with fancy's magic wand, Wise Bacon's arch; thy bower, fair Rosamond."

In the bosom of a delightful valley, surrounded by the most luxuriant meadows, and environed by gently swelling hills, smiling in all the pride of cultivated beauty, on every side diversified by hanging wood, stands the fair city of learning and the arts. The two great roads from the capital converge upon the small church of St. Clement, in the eastern suburb, from whence, advancing in a westerly direction, you ~120~~ arrive at Magdalen bridge, so named from the college adjoining, whose lofty graceful tower is considered a fine specimen of architecture. The prospect of the city from this point is singularly grand and captivating; on the left, the botanical garden, with its handsome portal; beyond, steeples and towers of every varied form shooting up in different degrees of elevation. The view of the High-street is magnificent, and must impress the youthful mind with sentiments of awe and veneration. Its picturesque curve and expansive width, the noble assemblage of public and private edifices in all the pride of varied art, not rising in splendid uniformity, but producing an enchantingly varied whole, the entire perspective of which admits of no European rival—

"The awful tow'rs which seem for science made; The solemn chapels, which to prayer invite, Whose storied windows shed a holy light—"

the colleges of Queen's and All Souls', with the churches of St. Mary and All Saints' on the northern side of the street, and the venerable front of University College on the south, present at every step objects for contemplation and delight. Whirling up this graceful curvature, we alighted at the Mitre, an inn in the front of the High-street, inclining towards Carfax. A number of under graduates in their academicals were posted round the door, or lounging on the opposite side, to watch the arrival of the coach, and amuse themselves with quizzing the passengers. Among the foremost of the group, and not the least active, was my old schoolfellow and con, Tom Echo, now of Christ Church. The recognition was instantaneous; the welcome a hearty one, in the true Etonian style; and the first connected sentence an invitation to dinner. "I shall make a party on purpose to introduce you, old chap," said Tom, "that is, ~121~~ as soon as you have made your bow to the big wig:{7} but I say, old fellow, where are you entered 1 we are most of us overflowingly full here." I quickly satisfied his curiosity upon that point, by informing him I had been for some time enrolled upon the list of the foundation of Brazennose, and had received orders to come up and enter myself. Our conversation now turned upon the necessary ceremonies of matriculation.

Tom's face was enlivened to a degree when I showed him my letter of introduction to Dr. Dingyman, of L-n college. "What, the opposition member, the Oxford Palladio? Why, you might just as well expect to move the Temple of the Winds from Athens to Oxford, without displacing a fragment, as to hope the doctor will present you to the vice-chancellor.—It won't do. We must find you some more tractable personage; some good-humoured nob that stands well with the principals, tells funny stories to their ladies, and drinks his three bottles like a true son of orthodoxy." "For Heaven's sake! my dear fellow, if you do not wish to be pointed at, booked for an eccentric, or suspected of being profound, abandon all intention of being introduced through that medium. A first interview with that singular man will produce an examination that would far exceed the perils of the great go{8}-he will try your proficiency by the chart and scale of truth." "Be that as it may, Tom," said I, not a little alarmed by the account I had heard of the person to whom I was to owe my first introduction to alma mater, "I shall make the attempt; and should I fail, I shall yet hope to avail myself of your proffered kindness."

7 A BIG WIG. Head of a college. A DON. A learned man. A NOB. A fellow of a college.

8 The principal examining school.

~122~~

After partaking of some refreshment, and adjusting my dress, we sallied forth to lionise, as Tom called it, which is the Oxford term for gazing about, usually applied to strangers. Proceeding a little way along the high street from the Mitre, and turning up the first opening on our left hand, we stood before the gateway of Lincoln college. Here Tom shook hands, wished me a safe passport through what he was pleased to term the "Oxonia purgata" and left me, after receiving my promise to join the dinner party at Christ Church.

I had never felt so awkwardly in my life before: the apprehensions I was under of a severe examination; the difficulty of encountering a man whose superior learning and endowments of mind had rendered him the envy of the University, and above all, his reputed eccentricity of manners, created fears that almost palsied my tongue when I approached the hall to announce my arrival. If my ideas of the person had thus confounded me, my terrors were doubly increased upon entering his chamber: shelves groaning with ponderous folios and quartos of the most esteemed Latin and Greek authors, fragments of Grecian and Roman architecture, were disposed around the room; on the table lay a copy of Stuart's Athens, with a portfolio of drawings from Palladio and Vitruvius, and Pozzo's perspective. In a moment the doctor entered, and, advancing towards me, seized my hand before I could scarcely articulate my respects. "I am glad to see you—be seated—you are of Eton, I read, an ancient name and highly respected here—what works have you been lately reading?" I immediately ran through the list of our best school classics, at which I perceived the doctor smiled. "You have been treated, I perceive, like all who have preceded you: the bigotry of scholastic prejudices is intolerable. I have been for fifty years labouring to remove the veil, and have yet contrived ~123~~ to raise only one corner of it. Nothing," continued the doctor, "has stinted the growth and hindered the improvement of sound learning more than a superstitious reverence for the ancients; by which it is presumed that their works form the summit of all learning, and that nothing can be added to their discoveries. Under this absurd and ridiculous prejudice, all the universities of Europe have laboured for many years, and are only just beginning to see their error, by the encouragement of natural philosophy. Experimental learning is the only mode by which the juvenile mind should be trained and exercised, in order to bring all its faculties to their proper action: instead of being involved in the mists of antiquity." Can it be possible, thought I, this is the person of whom my friend Tom gave such a curious account? Can this be the man who is described as a being always buried in abstracted thoughtfulness on the architer cural remains of antiquity, whose opinions are said never to harmonize with those of other heads of colleges; who is described as eccentric, because he has a singular veneration for truth, and an utter abhorrence of the dogmas of scholastic prejudice 1 There are some few characters in the most elevated situations of life, who possess the amiable secret of attaching every one to them who have the honour of being admitted into their presence, without losing one particle of dignity, by their courteous manner. This agreeable qualification the doctor appeared to possess in an eminent degree. I had not been five minutes in his company before I felt as perfectly unembarrassed as if I had known him intimately for twelve months. It could not be the result of confidence on my part, for no poor fellow ever felt more abashed upon a first entrance; and must therefore only be attributable to that indescribable condescension of easy intercourse which is the sure characteristic of a superior mind.

~124~~ After inquiring who was to be my tutor, and finding I was not yet fixed in that particular, I was requested to construe one of the easiest passages in the AEneid; my next task was to read a few paragraphs of monkish Latin from a little white book, which I found contained the university statutes: having acquitted myself in this to the apparent satisfaction of the doctor, he next proceeded to give me his advice upon my future conduct and pursuits in the university; remarked that his old friend, my father, could not have selected a more unfortunate person to usher me into notice: that his habits were those of a recluse, and his associations confined almost within the walls of his own college; but that his good wishes for the son of an old friend and schoolfellow would, on this occasion, induce him to present me, in person, to the principal of Brazennose, of whom he took occasion to speak in the highest possible terms. Having ordered me a sandwich and a glass of wine for my refreshment, he left me to adjust his dress, preparatory to our visit to the dignitary. During his absence I employed the interval in amusing myself with a small octavo volume, entitled the "Oxford Spy:" the singular coincidence of the following extract according so completely with the previous remarks of the doctor, induced me to believe it was his production; but in this suspicion, I have since been informed, I was in error, the work being written by Shergold Boone, Esq. a young member of the university.

"Thus I remember, ere these scenes I saw, But hope had drawn them, such as hope will draw, A shrewd old man, on Isis' margin bred, Smiled at my warmth, and shook his wig, and said: 'Youth will be sanguine, but before you go, Learn these plain rules, and treasure, when you know. Wisdom is innate in the gown and band; Their wearers are the wisest of the land.

~125~~

Science, except in Oxford, is a dream; In all things heads of houses are supreme {9} Proctors are perfect whosoe'er they be; Logic is reason in epitome: Examiners, like kings, can do no wrong; All modern learning is not worth a song: Passive obedience is the rule of right; To argue or oppose is treason quite:{10} Mere common sense would make the system fall: Things are worth nothing; words are all in all."

On his return, the ancient glanced at the work I had been reading, and observing the passage I have just quoted, continued his remarks upon the discipline of the schools.—"In the new formed system of which we boast," said the master, "the philosophy which has enlightened the world is omitted or passed over in a superficial way, and the student is exercised in narrow and contracted rounds of education, in which his whole labour is consumed, and his whole time employed, with little improvement or useful knowledge. He has neither time nor inclination to attend the public lectures in the several departments of philosophy; nor is he qualified for that attendance. All that he does, or is required to do, is to prepare himself to pass through these contracted rounds; to write a theme, or point an epigram; but when he enters upon life, action, or profession, both the little go, and the great go, he will find to be a by go; for he will find that he has gone by the best part of useful and substantial learning;

9 Know all men by these presents, that children in the uni- versities eat pap and go in leading strings till they are fourscore. —Terro Filius.

10 In a work quaintly entitled "Phantasm of an University," there occurs this sweeping paragraph, written in the true spirit of radical reform: "Great advantages might be obtained by gradually transforming Christ Church into a college of civil polity and languages; Magdalen, Queen's, University, into colleges of moral philosophy; New and Trinity into colleges of fine arts; and the five halls into colleges of agriculture and manufactures."

126~~ or that it has gone by him: to recover which he must repair from this famous seat of learning to the institutions of the metropolis, or in the provincial towns. I have just given you these hints, that you may escape the errors of our system, and be enabled to avoid the pomp of learning which is without the power, and acquire the power of knowledge without the pomp." Here ended the lecture, and my venerable conductor and myself made the best of our way to pay our respects to the principal of my future residence.

Arrived here—the principal, a man of great dignity, received us with all due form, and appeared exceedingly pleased with the visit of my conductor; my introduction was much improved by a letter from the head master of Eton, who, I have no doubt, said more in my favour than I deserved. The appointment of a tutor was the next step, and for this purpose I was introduced to Mr. Jay, a smart-looking little man, very polite and very portly, with whom I retired to display my proficiency in classical knowledge, by a repetition of nearly the same passages in Homer and Virgil I had construed previously with the learned doctor; the next arrangement was the sending for a tailor, who quickly produced my academical robes and cap, in the which, I must confess, I at first felt rather awkward. I was now hurried to the vice-chancellor's house adjoining Pembroke college, where I had the honour of a presentation to that dignitary; a mild-looking man of small stature, with the most affable and graceful manners, dignified, and yet free from the slightest tinge of hauteur. His reception of my tutor was friendly and unembarrassing; his inquiries relative to myself directed solely to my proficiency in the classics, of which I had again to give some specimens; I was then directed to subscribe my name in a large folio album, which proved to contain the thirty-nine articles, not one ~127~~ sentence of which I had ever read; but it was too late for hesitation, and I remembered Tom Echo had informed me I should have to attest to a great deal of nonsense, which no one ever took the pains to understand. The remainder of this formal initiation was soon despatched: I separately abjured the damnable doctrines of the pope, swore allegiance to the king, and vowed to preserve the statutes and privileges of the society I was then admitted into; paid my appointed fees, made my bow to the vice-chancellor, and now concluded that the ceremony of the togati was all over: in this, however, I was mistaken; my tutor requesting some conference with me at his rooms, thither we proceeded, and arranged the plan of my future studies; then followed a few general hints relative to conduct, the most important of which was my obeisance to the dignitaries, by capping{11} whenever I met them; the importance of a strict attendance to the lectures of logic, mathematics, and divinity, to the certain number of twenty in each term; a regular list of the tradesmen whom I was requested to patronize; and, lastly, the entry of my name upon the college books and payment of the necessary caution money.{12} Entering keeps one term; but as rooms were vacant, I was fortunate in obtaining an immediate appointment. As the day was now far advanced, I deemed it better to return to my inn and dress for the dinner party at Christ Church.

11 Capping—by the students and under graduates is touching the cap to the vice-chancollor, proctors, fellows, &c. when passing. At Christ Church tradesmen and servants must walk bareheaded through the quadrangle when the dean, canons, censors, or tutors are present. At Pembroke this order is rigidly enforced, even in wet weather. At Brazennose neither servants nor tradesmen connected with the college are allowed to enter it otherwise. It is not long since a certain bookseller was discommoned for wearing his hat in B- n-e quadrangle, and literally ruined in consequence.

12 Caution money—a sum of money deposited in the hands of the treasurer or bursar by every member on his name being entered upon the college books, as a security for the payment of all bills and expenses contracted by him within the walls of the college. This money is returned when the party takes his degree or name off the books; and no man can do either of these without receipts in full from the butler, manciple, and cook of their respective colleges.

~128~~



~129~~ Architectural Reminiscences—Descriptive Remarks—Similitude between the Characters of Cardinal Wolsey and Napoleon.

It was past five o'clock when I arrived before the majestic towers of Christ Church.—The retiring sun brightening the horizon with streaks of gold at parting, shed a rich glow over the scene that could not fail to rivet my attention to the spot. Not all the fatigues of the day, nor the peculiarities of my new situation, had, in the least, abated my admiration of architectural beauties. The noble octagonal tower in the enriched Gothic style, rising like a colossal ~130~~ monument of art among the varied groups of spires, domes, and turrets, which from a distance impress the traveller with favourable ideas of the magnificence of Oxford, first attracted my notice, and recalled to my memory two names that to me appear to be nearly associated (by comparison) with each other, Wolsey and Napoleon; both gifted by nature with almost all the brightest qualifications of great minds; both arriving at the highest point of human grandeur from the most humble situations; equally the patrons of learning, science, and the arts; and both equally unfortunate, the victims of ambition: both persecuted exiles; yet, further I may add, that both have left behind them a fame which brightens with increasing years, and must continue to do as every passing day removes the mist of prejudice from the eyes of man. Such were the thoughts that rushed upon my mind as I stood gazing on the splendid fabric before me, from the western side of St. Aidates, unheedful of the merry laughter-loving group of students and under-graduates, who, lounging under the vaulted gateway, were amusing themselves at my expense in quizzing a freshman in the act of lionising. The tower contains the celebrated Magnus Thomas, recast from the great bell of Osney abbey, by whose deep note at the hour of nine in the evening the students are summoned to their respective colleges. The upper part of the tower displays in the bracketed canopies and carved enrichments the skilful hand of Sir Christopher Wren, whose fame was much enhanced by the erection of the gorgeous turrets which project on each side of the gateway.{1} Not caring to endure a closer attack of the togati, who had now approached me, I crossed and entered the great quadrangle, or, according to Oxford phraseology, Tom Quad. The irregular nature of the buildings here by no means assimilate with the elegance of the exterior entrance.

1 It was here, in Lord Orford's opinion, that he "caught the graces of the true Gothic taste."



~131~~ The eastern, northern, and part of the southern sides of the quadrangle are, I have been since informed, inhabited by the dean and canons; the western by students. The broad terrace in front of the buildings, the extent of the arena, and the circular basin of water in the centre, render this an agreeable promenade.—I had almost forgotten the deity of the place (I hope not symbolical), a leaden Mercury{2}; the gift of Dr. John Radcliffe, which rises from the centre of the basin, on the spot where once stood the sacred cross of St. Frideswide, and the pulpit of the reformer, Wickliffe.

2 Since pulled down and destroyed.



THE DINNER PARTY.

Bernard Blackmantles Visit to Tom Echo—-Oxford Phraseology- Smuggled Dinners—A College Party described—Topography of a Man's Boom—Portrait of a Bachelor of Arts—Hints to Freshmen—Customs of the University.

~132~~ "When first the freshman, bashful, blooming, young, Blessings which here attend not handmaids long, Assumes that cap, which franchises the man, And feels beneath the gown dilate his span; When he has stood with modest glance, shy fear, And stiff-starch'd band before our prime vizier, And sworn to articles he scarcely knew, And forsworn doctrines to his creed all new: Through fancy's painted glass he fondly sees Monastic turrets, patriarchal trees, The cloist'ral arches' awe-inspiring shade, The High-street sonnetized by Wordsworth's jade, His raptured view a paradise regards, Nurseling of hope! he builds on paper cards."

On the western side of Tom Quad, up one flight of stairs, by the porter's aid I discovered the battered oaken door which led to the larium of my friend Echo: that this venerable bulwark had sustained many a brave attack from besiegers was visible in the numerous bruises and imprints of hammers, crowbars, and other weapons, which had covered its surface with many an indented scar. The utmost caution was apparent in the wary scout,{1}

1 A Scout, at Christ Church, performs the same duties for ten or twelve students as a butler and valet in a gentleman's family. There are no women bedmakers at any college except Christ Church, that duty being performed by the scout.

~133~~ who admitted me; a necessary precaution, as I afterwards found, to prevent the prying eye of some inquisitive domine, whose nose has a sort of instinctive attraction in the discovery of smuggled dinners.{2}

Within I found assembled half a dozen good-humoured faces, all young, and all evidently partaking of the high flow of spirits and animated vivacity of the generous hearted Tom Echo. A college introduction is one of little ceremony, the surname alone being used,—a practice, which, to escape quizzing, must also be followed on your card. "Here, old fellows," said Tom, taking me by the hand, and leading me forwards to his companions, "allow me to introduce an ex{3}-college man,—Blackmantle of Brazennose, a freshman{4} and an Etonian: so, lay to him, boys; he's just broke loose from the Land of Sheepishness,{5} passed Pupils Straits{6} and the Isle of Matriculation{7} to follow Dads Will,{8} in the Port of Stuffs{9}; from which, if he can steer clear of the Fields of Temptation{10}

2 Smuggled dinners are private parties in a student's room, when the dinner is brought into college from a tavern: various are the ingenious stratagems of the togati to elude the vigilance of the authorities: trunks, packing-boxes, violoncello-cases, and hampers are not unfrequently directed as if from a waggon or coach-office, and brought into college on the shoulders of some porter. Tin cans of soup are drawn up by means of a string from the back windows in the adjoining street. It is not long since Mr. C- of Christ Church was expelled for having a dinner smuggled into college precisely in the manner adopted by Tom Echo.

3 A University man who is visiting in a college of which he is

not a member.

4 The usual phrase for initiating a freshman on his first appearance in a party or frisk.

5 Land of Sheepishness—School-boy's bondage.

6 Pupil's Straits—Interval between restraint and liberty.

7 Isle of Matriculation—First entrance into the University.

8 Dad's Will—Parental authority.

9 Port for Stay's—Assumption of commoner's gown.

10 Fields of Temptation—The attractions held out to him.

~134~~ he hopes to make the Land of Promise,{11} anchor his bark in the Isthmus of Grace,{12} and lay up snugly for life on the Land of Incumbents."{13} "For heaven's sake, Tom," said I," speak in some intelligible language; it's hardly fair to fire off your battery of Oxonian wit upon a poor freshman at first sight." At this moment a rap at the oak announced an addition to our party, and in bounded that light-hearted child of whim, Horace Eglantine:—"What, Blackmantle here? Why then, Tom, we can form as complete a trio as ever got bosky{14} with bishop{15} in the province of Bacchus,{16}! Why, what a plague, my old fellow, has given you that rueful-looking countenance? I am sure you was not plucked upon Maro Common or Homer Downs{17} in passing examination with the big wig this morning; or has Tom been frisking{18} you already with some of his jokes about the straits of independency{19}; the waste of ready{20}; the dynasty of Venus,{21} or the quicksands of rustication{22}.

11 Land of Promise—The fair expectations of a steady novice in Oxford.

12 Isthmus of Grace—Obtainment of the grace of one's college.

13 Land of Incumbents—Good livings.

14 Bosky is the term used in Oxford to express the style of being "half seas over."

15 Bishop—A good orthodox mead composed of port wine and roasted oranges or lemons.

16 Province of Bacchus—Inebriety.

17 Maro Common and Homer Downs allude to the AEneid of Virgil and the Iliad of Homer—two books chiefly studied for the little-go or responsions.

18 Frisking—Hoaxing.

19 Straits of Independency—Frontiers of extravagance.

20 Waste of Ready, including in it Hoyle's Dominions— Course of gambling, including Loo tables.

21 Dynasty of Venus—Indiscriminate love and misguided affections.

22 Quicksands of Rustication—On which our hero may at any time run foul when inclined to visit a new county.

~135~~ Cheer up, old fellow! you are not half way through the ceremony of initiation yet. We must brighten up that solemn phiz of yours, and give you a lesson or two on college principles? If I had been thrown upon some newly-discovered country, among a race of wild Indians, I could not have been more perplexed and confounded than I now felt in endeavouring to rally, and appear to comprehend this peculiar phraseology.

A conversation now ensuing between a gentleman commoner, whom the party designated Pontius Pilate{23} and Tom Echo, relative to the comparative merits of their hunters, afforded me an opportunity of surveying the larium of my friend; the entrance to which was through a short passage, that served the varied purposes of an ante-room or vestibule, and a scout's pantry and boot-closet. On the right was the sleeping-room, and at the foot of a neat French bed I could perceive the wine bin, surrounded by a regiment of dead men{24} who had, no doubt, departed this life like heroes in some battle of Bacchanalian sculls. The principal chamber, the very penetrale of the Muses, was about six yards square, and low, with a rich carved oaken wainscoting, reaching to the ceiling; the monastic gloom being materially increased by two narrow loopholes, intended for windows, but scarcely yielding sufficient light to enable the student to read his Scapula or Lexicon{25} with the advantage of a meridian sun: the fire-place was immensely wide, emblematical, no doubt, of the capacious stomachs of the good fathers and fellows, the ancient inhabitants of this sanctum; but the most singularly-striking characteristic was the modern decorations, introduced by the present occupant.

23 A quaint cognomen applied to him from the rapidity with which he boasted of repeating the Nicene Creed,—i.e. offering a bet that no would give any man as far as "Pontius Pilate," and beat him before he got to the "resurrection of the dead."

24 Dead Men—Empty bottles.

25 Scapula, Hederic, and Lexicon, the principal Dictionaries in use for studying Greek.

~136~~ Over the fire-place hung a caricature portrait of a well-known Bachelor of Arts, drinking at the Pierian spring, versus gulping down the contents of a Pembroke overman,{26} sketched by the facetious pencil of the humorist, Rowlandson.



ECCE SIGNUM.

I could not help laughing to observe on the one side of this jolly personage a portrait of the little female Giovanni Vestris, under which some wag had inscribed, "A Mistress of Hearts," and on the other a full-length of Jackson the pugilist, with this motto—"A striking likeness of a fancy lecturer."

26 An Herman—At Pembroke, a large silver tankard, holding two quarts and half a pint, so called from the donor, Mr. George Overman. The late John Hudson, the college tonsor and common room man,{*} was famous for having several times, for trifling wagers, drank a full overman of strong beer off at a draught. A Tun, another vessel in use at Pembroke, is a half pint silver cup. A Whistler, a silver pint tankard also in use there, was the gift of Mr. Anthony Whistler, a cotemporary with Shenstone.

* Common room man, a servant who is entirely employed in attending upon the members of the common room.

Junior common room, a room in every college, except Christ Church, set apart for the junior members to drink wine in and read the newspapers.

N.B. There is but one common room at Christ Church; none but masters of arts and noblemen can be members of it,—the latter but seldom attend. The last who attended was the late Duke of Dorset. All common rooms are regularly furnished with newspapers and magazines.

Curator of the common rooms.-A senior master of arts, who buys the wine and inspects the accounts.

137~ In the centre of the opposite side hung the portrait of an old scout, formerly of Brazennose, whose head now forms the admission ticket to the college club. Right and left were disposed the plaster busts of Aristotle and Cicero; the former noseless, and the latter with his eyes painted black, and a huge pair of mustachios annexed. A few volumes of the Latin and Greek classics were thrown into a heap in one corner of the room, while numerous modern sporting publications usurped their places on the book shelves, richly gilt and bound in calf, but not lettered. The hunting cap, whip, and red coat were hung up like a trophy between two foxes' tails, which served the purpose of bell pulls. At this moment, my topographical observations were disturbed by the arrival of the scout with candles, and two strange-looking fellows in smock frocks, bringing in, as I supposed, a piano forte, but which, upon being placed on the table, proved to be a mere case: the top being taken off, the sides and ends let down in opposite directions, and the cloth pulled out straight, displayed an elegant dinner, smoking hot, and arranged in as much form as if the college butler had superintended the feast. "Come, old fellow," said Tom, "turn to—no ceremony. I hope, Jem," addressing his scout, "you took care that no ~138~~ college telegraph{27} was at work while you were smuggling the dinner in." "I made certain sure of that, sir," said Jem; "for I placed Captain Cook{28} sentinel at one corner of the quadrangle, and old Brady at the other, with directions to whistle, as a signal, if they saw any of the dons upon the look out."

Finding we were not likely to be interrupted by the domine, Tom took the chair. The fellows in the smock frocks threw off their disguises, and proved to be two genteelly dressed waiters from one of the inns. "Close the oak, Jem," said Horace Eglantine, "and take care no one knocks in{29} before we have knocked down the contents of your master's musical melange." "Punning as usual, Eglantine," said the Honourable Mr. Sparkle, a gentleman commoner. "Yes; and pun-ishing too, old fellow!" said Horace. "Where's the cold tankard,{30} Echo?

27 A college telegraph—A servant of a college, who carries an account of every trifling offence committed, either by gentlemen or servants, to the college officers.

28 Well-known characters in Christ Church.

29 Knocking in—Going into college after half-past ten at night. The names of the gentlemen who knock in are entered by the porter in a book kept for that purpose, and the next morning it is carried to the dean and censors, who generally call upon the parties so offending to account for being out of college at so late an hour. A frequent recurrence of this practice will sometimes draw from the dean a very severe reprimand.

Knocking in money—Fines levied for knocking into college at improper hours: the first fine is fixed at half-past ten, and increased every half hour afterwards. These fines are entered on the batter book, and charged among the battels and decrements,* a portion of which is paid to the porter quarterly, for being knocked up.

30 Cold tankard—A summer beverage, used at dinner, made of brandy, cider, or perry, lemons cut in slices, cold water, sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, and the herbs balm and burridge. Sometimes sherry or port wine is substituted for cider. The tankard is put into a pitcher, which is iced in a tub, procured from the confectioners.

* Decrements.—The use of knives, folks, spoons, and other necessaries, with the firing, &c. for the hall and chapel.

~139~~ We must give our old con, Blackmantle, a warm reception." "Sure, that's a Paddyism"{31} said a young Irish student. "Nothing of the sort," replied Horace: "are we not all here the sons of Isis (Ices)? and tell me where will you find a group of warmer hearted souls?" "Bravo! bravo!" shouted the party. "That fellow Eglantine will create another Pun-ic war," said Sparkle. "I move that we have him crossed in the buttery{32} for making us laugh during dinner, to the great injury of our digestive organs, and the danger of suffocation." "What! deprive an Englishman of his right to battel{33}" said Echo: "No; I would sooner inflict the orthodox fine of a double bumper of bishop." "Bravo!" said Horace: "then I plead guilty, and swallow the imposition." "I'll thank you for a cut out of the back of that lion,"{34} tittered a man opposite. With all the natural timidity of the hare whom he thus particularised, I was proceeding to help him, when Echo inquired if he should send me the breast of a swiss {35} and the facetious Eglantine, to increase my confusion, requested to be allowed to cut me a slice off the wing of a wool bird.{36}

31 A Paddyism is called in this university a "Thorpism" from Mr. Thorp, formerly a hosier of some note in the city. He was famous for making blunders and coining new words, was very fond of making long speeches, and when upon the toe, never failed to convulse his hearers with laughter.

32 Crossed in the buttery—not allowed to battel, a punishment for missing lecture. By being frequently crossed, a man will lose his term.

33 Battels—Bread, butter, cheese, salt, eggs, &c.

34 A lion—a hare.

35 Siciss—a pheasant.

36 Wing of a wool bird—Shoulder of lamb.

~140~~ To have remonstrated against this species of persecution would, I knew, only increase my difficulties; summoning, therefore, all the gaiety I was master of to my aid, I appeared to participate in the joke, like many a modern roue, laughing in unison without comprehending the essence of the whim, merely because it was the fashion. What a helpless race, old father Etona, are thine (thought I), when first they assume the Oxford man; spite of thy fostering care and classic skill, thy offspring are here little better than cawkers{37} or wild Indians. "Is there no glossary of university wit," said I, "to be purchased here, by which the fresh may be instructed in the art of conversation; no Lexicon Balatronicum of college eloquence, by which the ignorant may be enlightened?" "Plenty, old fellow," said Echo: "old Grose is exploded; but, never fear, I will introduce you to the Dictionnaire Universel,{38} which may always be consulted, at our old grandmammas' in St. Clement's, or Eglantine can introduce you at Vincent's,{39} where better known as the poor curate of H——, crossed the channel.

37 Cawker—an Eton phrase for a stranger or novice.

38 Dictionnaire Universel—a standing toast in the common room at——-College.

The origin of the toast is as follows: When Buonaparte was at Elba, Dr. E-, one of the wealthy senior Fellows of —— College.

Soon after his arrival at Paris, as he was walking through the streets of that city, he was accosted by an elegantly dressed Cyprian, to whom he made a profound bow, and told her (in English), that he was not sufficiently acquainted with the French language to comprehend what she had said to him, expressing his regret that he had not his French and English dictionary with him. Scarcely had he pronounced the word dictionary, when the lady, by a most astonishing display, which in England would have disgraced the lowest of the frail sisterhood, exclaimed, "Behold the Dictionnaire Universel, which has been opened by the learned of all nations."{39} Dr. E—, on his return from France, related this anecdote in the common room at ————-, and the Dictionnaire universel has ever since been a standing toast there.

39 A well known respectable bookseller near Brazennose, who has published a whimsical trifle under the title of "Oxford in Epitome" very serviceable to freshmen. You may purchase "Oxford in Epitome," with a Key accompaniment explaining the whole art and mystery of the finished style.

~141~~ After a dissertation upon new college puddings,{40} rather a choice dish, an elegant dessert and ices was introduced from Jubbers.{41} The glass now circulated freely, and the open-hearted mirth of my companions gave me a tolerable idea of many of the leading eccentricities of a collegian's life. The Oxford toast, the college divinity, was, I found, a Miss W-, whose father is a wealthy horse-dealer, and whom all agreed was a very amiable and beautiful girl. I discovered that Sadler, Randal, and Crabbe were rum ones for prime hacks—that the Esculapii dii of the university, the demi-gods of medicine and surgery, were Messrs. Wall and Tuckwell—that all proctors were tyrants, and their men savage bull dogs—that good wine was seldom to be bought in Oxford by students—and pretty girls were always to be met at Bagley Wood—that rowing a fellow{42} was considered good sport, and an idle master{43} a jolly dog—that all tradesmen were duns, and all gownsmen suffering innocents—and lastly.

40 New College puddings—a favourite dish with freshmen, made of grated biscuit, eggs, suet, moist sugar, currants and lemon-peel, rolled into balls of an oblong shape, fried in boiling fat, and moistened with brandy.

41 A celebrated Oxford pastry-cook.

42 Rowing a fellow—going with a party in the dead of the night to a man's room, nailing or screwing his oak up, so as it cannot be opened on the inside, knocking at his door, calling out fire, and when he comes to the door, burning a quantity of shavings, taken from halfpenny faggots dipped in oil from the staircase lamps, so as to impress him with an idea that the staircase, in which his rooms are, is on fire. And when he is frightened almost out of his senses, setting up a most hideous horse-laugh and running away. This joke is practised chiefly upon quiet timid men.

43 An idle master—a Master of Arts on the foundation, who does not take pupils.

~142~~

I was informed that a freshman was a scamp without seasoning—and a fellow of no spirit till he had been pulled up before the big wig and suffered imposition{44} fine, and rustication.{45}

It was now half an hour since old Magnus Thomas had tolled his heavy note, most of the party were a little cut,{46} and the salt pits of attic wit had long since been drained to the very bottom—Sparkle proposed an adjournment to the Temple of Bacchus,{47} while Echo and a man of Trinity set forth for the plains of Betteris.{48} Pleading the fatigues of the day, and promising to attend a spread{49} on the morrow to be given by Horace Eglantine, I was permitted to depart to my inn, having first received a caution from Echo to steer clear of the Don Peninsula{50} and the seat of magistracy.{51}

On regaining my inn, I was not a little surprised to hear the smirking barmaid announce me by my christian and surname, directing the waiter to place candles for Mr. Bernard Blackmantle in the _sanctum_. How the deuce, thought I, have these people discovered my family nomenclature, or are we here under the same system of _espionage_ as the puerile inhabitants of France, where every hotel-keeper, waiter, and servant, down to the very shoe-black, is a spy upon your actions, and a creature in the pay of the police{52} "Pray, waiter," said I, "why is this snug little _larium_ designated the sanctum_?"

44 Imposition—translations set by the Principal for absence and other errors.

45 Rustication is the term applied to temporary dismissal for non-observance of college discipline.

46 A little cut—half seas over.

47 Temple of Bacchus—some favourite inn.

48 Plains of Betteris—the diversion of billiards.

49 A spread—a wine party.

50 The Don Peninsula—the range of all who wear long black hanging sleeves, and bear the name of Domini.

51 Seat of magistracy—proctor's authority.

52 The tact of the Oxford tradesmen in this particular is very ingenious.—The strength of a man's account is always regulated by the report they receive on his entering, from some college friend, respecting the wealth of his relations, or the weight of his expectancies.

~143~~

"Because it's extra-proctorial, sir: none of the town raff are ever admitted into it, and the marshal and his bull dogs never think of intruding here. With your leave, sir, I'll send in master—he will explain things better; and mayhap, sir, as you are fresh, he may give you a little useful information." "Do so,—send me in a bottle of old Madeira and two glasses, and tell your master I shall be happy to see him." In a few moments I was honoured with the company of mine host of the Mitre, who, to do him justice, was a more humorous fellow than I had anticipated. Not quite so ceremonious as he of the Christopher at Eton, or the superlative of a Bond-street restaurateur; but with an unembarrassed roughness, yet respectful demeanour, that partook more of the sturdy English farmer, or an old weather-beaten sportsman, than the picture I had figured to myself of the polished landlord of the principal inn in the sacred city of learning. We are too much the creatures of prejudice in this life, and first impressions are not unfrequently the first faults which we unthinkingly commit against the reputation of a new acquaintance. Master Peake was, I discovered, a fellow of infinite jest, an old fox-hunter, and a true sportsman; and supposing me, from my introduction by Tom Echo to his house, to be as fond of a good horse, a hard run, and a black bottle, as my friend, he had eagerly sought an opportunity for this early introduction. "No man in the country, sir," said Peake, "can boast of a better horse or a better wife: I always leave the management of the bishop's cap to the petticoat; for look ye, sir, gown against gown is the true orthodox system, I believe.—When I kept the Blue Pig{53} by the Town Hall, the big wigs used to grunt a little now and then about the gemmen of the university getting bosky in a pig-sty; so, egad, I thought I would fix them at last, and removed here; for I knew it would be deemed sacrilegious to attack the mitre, or hazard a pun upon the head of the church.

53 The Blue Boar, since shut up.

~144~~ If ever you should be tiled up in Eager heaven,{54} there's not a kinder hearted soul in Christendom than Mrs. Peake: Dr. Wall says that he thinks she has saved more gentlemen's lives in this university by good nursing and sending them niceties, than all the material medicals put together. You'll excuse me, sir, but as you are fresh, take care to avoid the gulls{55}; they fly about here in large flocks, I assure you, and do no little mischief at times." "I never understood that gulls were birds of prey," said I.—"Only in Oxford, sir; and here, I assure you, they bite like hawks, and pick many a poor young gentleman as bare before his three years are expired, as the crows would a dead sheep upon a common. Every thing depends upon your obtaining an honest scout, and that's a sort of haro ravis (I think they call the bird) here." Suppressing my laughter at my host's Latinity, I thought this a fair opportunity to make some inquiries relative to this important officer in a college establishment.

"I suppose you know most of these ambassadors of the togati belonging to the different colleges'?" "I think I do, sir," said Peake, "if you mean the scouts; but I never heard them called by that name before. If you are of Christ Church, I should recommend Dick Cook, or, as he is generally called, Gentleman Cook, as the most finished, spritely, honest fellow of the whole. Dick's a trump, and no telegraph,—up to every frisk, and down to every move of the domini, thorough bred, and no want of courage?"

54 AEager haven—laid up in the depot of invalids.

55 Gulls—knowing ones who are always on the look out for freshmen.

~145~~ "But not having the honour of being entered there, I cannot avail myself of Dick's services: pray tell me, who is there at Brazennose that a young fellow can make a confidant of?" "Why, the very best old fellow in the world,—nothing like him in Oxford,—rather aged, to be sure, but a good one to go, and a rum one to look at;—I have known Mark Supple these fifty years, and never heard a gentleman give him a bad word: shall I send for him, sir? he's the very man to put you up to a thing or two, and finish you off in prime style." "In the morning, I'll see him, and if he answers your recommendation, engage with him: "for, thought I, such a man will be very essential, if it is only to act as interpreter to a young novice like myself.

The conversation now turned to sporting varieties, by which I discovered mine host was a leading character in the neighbouring hunts; knew every sportsman in the field, and in the course of half an hour, carried me over Godrington's manors, Moystoris district, and Somerset range,{56} taking many a bold leap in his progress, and never losing sight of the dogs. "We shall try your mettle, sir," said he, "if we catch you out for a day's sport; and if you are not quite mounted at present to your mind, I have always a spare nag in the stable for the use of a freshman."

56 The three packs of hounds contiguous to Oxford.

Though I did not relish the concluding appellation, coming from a tavern-keeper, I could not help thanking Peake for his liberal offer; yet without any intention of risking my neck in a steeple chase. The interview had, however, been productive of some amusement and considerable information. The bottle was now nearly finished; filling my last glass, I drank success to the Mitre, promised to patronise the landlord, praise the hostess, coquet with the little cherry-cheek, chirping lass in the bar, and kiss as many of the chamber-maids as I could persuade to let me. Wishing mine host a good night, and ringing for my bed-candle, I proceeded to put the last part of my promise into immediate execution.



COLLEGE SERVANTS.

Descriptive Sketch of a College Scout—Biography of Mark Supple—Singular Invitation to a Spread.

The next morning, early, while at breakfast, I received a visit from Mr. Mark Supple, the scout, of whom mine host of the Mitre had on the preceding night spoken so highly. There was nothing certainly very prepossessing in his exterior appearance; and if he had not previously been eulogised as the most estimable of college servants, I should not have caught the impression from a first glance. He was somewhere about sixty years of age, of diminutive stature and spare habit, a lean brother with a scarlet countenance, impregnated with tints of many a varied hue, in which however the richness of the ruby and the soft purple of the ultramarine evidently predominated. His forehead was nearly flat; upon his eyebrows and over his os frontis and scalp, a few straggling straight hairs were extended as an apology for a wig, but which was much more like a discarded crow's nest turned upside down. Immense black bushy eyebrows overhung a pair of the queerest looking oculars I had ever seen; below which sprung forth what had once been, no doubt, a nose, and perhaps in youth an elegant feature; but, Heaven help the wearer! it was now grown into such a strange form, and presented so many choice exuberances, that one might have supposed it was the original Bardolph's, and charged with the additional sins of every succeeding generation. The loss of his ~146~~ teeth had caused the other lip to retire inwards, and consequently the lower one projected forth, supported by a huge chin, like the basin or receiver round the crater of a volcano.

His costume was of a fashion admirably corresponding with his person. It might once have graced a dean, or, perhaps, a bishop, but it was evident the present wearer was not by when the artiste of the needle took his measure or instructions. Three men of Mark's bulk might very well have been buttoned up in the upper habiliment; and as for the inexpressibles, they hung round his ultimatum like the petticoat trowsers of a Dutch smuggler: then for the colour, it might once have been sable or a clerical mixture; but what with the powder which the collar bore evidence it had once been accustomed to, and the weather-beaten trials it had since undergone, it was quite impossible to specify. The beaver was in excellent keeping, en suite, except, perhaps, from the constant application of the hand to pay due respect to the dignitaries, it was here and there enriched with some more shining qualities. I at first suspected this ancient visitor was a hoax of my friend Tom Echo's, who had concerted the scheme with the landlord; but a little conversation with the object of my surprise soon convinced me it was the genuine Mark Supple, the true college scout, and no counterfeit.

"The welcome of Isis to you, sir," said the old man. "The domini of the bishops cap here gave me a hint you wished to see me.—I have the honour to be Mark Supple, sir, senior scout of Brazennose, and as well known to all the members of the university for the last fifty years, as Magdalen bridge, or old Magnus Thomas. The first of your name, sir, I think, who have been of Oxford—don't trace any of the Blackmantles here antecedent—turned over my list this morning before I came—got them all arranged, sir, take notice, in chronological order, from the friars of ~148~~ Oseny abbey down to the university of bucks of 1824—very entertaining, sir, take notice—many a glorious name peeping out here and there—very happy to enrol the first of the Blackmantles in my remembrancer, and hope to add M. A. and M. S. S. which signifies honour to you, as master of arts, and glory to your humble servant, Mark Supple Scout—always put my own initials against the gentleman's names whom I have attended, take notice." The singularity of the ancient's climax amused me exceedingly—there was something truly original in the phrase: the person and manners of the man were in perfect keeping. "You must have seen great changes here, Mark," said I; "were you always of Brazennose?" "I was born of Christ Church, sir, take notice, where my father was college barber, and my mother a bed-maker; but the students of that period insisted upon it that I was so like to a certain old big wig, whose Christian name was Mark, that I most censoriously obtained the appellation from at least a hundred godfathers, to the no small annoyance of the dignitary, take notice. My first occupation, when a child, was carrying billet doux from the students of Christ Church to the tradesmen's daughters of Oxford, or the nuns of St. Clement's, where a less important personage might have excited suspicion and lost his situation. From a college Mercury, I became a college devil, and was promoted to the chief situation in glorio,{1} alias hell, where I continued for some time a shining character, and sharpened the edge of many a cutting thing, take notice. Here, some wag having a design upon my reputation, put a large piece of cobbler's wax into the dean's boots one morning, which so irritated the big wig that I was instantly expelled college, discommoned, and blown up at point non plus, take notice.

1 Glorio.—A place in Christ Church called the scout's pantry, where the boots and shoes and knives are cleaned, and a small quantity of Geneva, or Bill Holland's double, is daily consumed during term time.

~149~~

Having saved a trifle, I now commenced stable-keeper, bought a few prime hacks, and mounted some of the best tandem turn outs in Oxford, take notice: but not having wherewithal to stand tick, and being much averse to dunning, I was soon sold up, and got a birth in Brazennose as college scout, where I have now been upwards of forty years, take notice. No gentleman could ever say old Mark Supple deceived him. I have run many risks for the gown; never cared for the town; always stuck up for my college, and never telegraphed the big wigs in my life, take notice."—"Is your name Blackmantle?" said a sharp-looking little fellow, in a grey frock livery, advancing up to me with as much sang froid as if I had been one of the honest fraternity of college servants. Being answered in the affirmative, and receiving at the same time a look that convinced him I was not pleased with his boldness, he placed the following note in my hand and retired.{2}

2 The usual style of invitation to a college wine party or spread.



The above is an exact copy of a note received from a man of Brazennose.

~159~~ Handing the note to old Mark—"Pray," said I, not a little confused by the elegance of the composition, "is this the usual style of college invitations?" Mark mounted his spectacles, and having deciphered the contents, assured me with great gravity that it was very polite indeed, and considering where it came from, unusually civil.

Another specimen of college ceremony, thought I;—"But come, Mark, let us forth and survey my rooms." We were soon within-side the gates of Brazennose; and Mark having obtained the key, we proceeded to explore the forsaken chamber of the Muses.



TAKING POSSESSION OF YOUR ROOMS.

Topography of a vacant College Larium—Anecdotes and Propensities of Predecessors—A long Shot—Scout's List of Necessaries—Condolence of University Friends.

Ascending a dark stone staircase till the oaken beams of the roof proclaimed we had reached the domiciliary abode of genius, I found myself in the centre of my future habitation, an attic on the third floor: I much doubt if poor Belzoni, when he discovered the Egyptian sepulchre, could have exhibited more astonishment. The old bed-maker, and the scout of my predecessor, had prepared the apartment for my reception by gutting it of every thing useful to the value of a cloak pin: the former was engaged in sweeping up the dust, which, from the clouds that surrounded us, would not appear to have been disturbed for six months before at least. I had nearly broken my shins, on my first entrance, over the fire-shovel and bucket, and I was now in more danger of being choked with filth. "Who inhabited this delightful place before, Mark?" "A mad wag, but a generous gentleman, Sir, take notice, one Charles Rattle, Esq., who was expelled college for smuggling, take notice: the proctor, with the town marshal and his bull dogs, detected him and two others one night drawing up some fresh provision in the college plate-basket. Mr. Rattle, in his fright, dropped the fair nun of St. Clement's plump upon the proctor, who could not understand the joke; but, having recovered ~152~~ his legs, entered the college, and found one of the fair sisters concealed in Mr. Rattle's room, take notice. In consequence he was next day pulled up before the big wigs, when, refusing to make a suitable apology, he received sentence of expulsion, take notice." "He must have been a genius," quoth I, "and a very eccentric one too, from the relics he has left behind of his favourite propensities." In one corner of the room lay deposited a heap of lumber, thrown together, as a printer would say, in pie, composed of broken tables, broken bottles, trunks, noseless bellows, books of all descriptions, a pair of muffles, and the cap of sacred academus with a hole through the crown (emblematical, I should think, of the pericranium it had once covered), and stuck upon the leg of a broken chair. The rats, those very agreeable visitors of ancient habitations, were seen scampering away upon our entrance, and the ceiling was elegantly decorated with the smoke of a candle in a great variety of ornamented designs, consisting of caricatures of dignitaries and the Christian names of favourite damsels. There was poor Cicero, with a smashed crown, turned upside down in the fire-place, and a map of Oxford hanging in tatters above it; a portrait of Tom Crib was in the space adjoining the window, not one whole pane of which had survived the general wreck; but what most puzzled me was the appearance of the cupboard door: the bottom hinge had given way, and it hung suspended by one joint in an oblique direction, exhibiting, on an inside face, a circle chalked for a target and perforated with numerous holes This door was in a right line with the bedroom, and, when thrown open, covered a loop-hole of a window that looked across the quadrangle directly into the principal's apartments.{1}



~153~~ It was in this way (as Mark informed me) my predecessor amused himself in a morning by lying in bed and firing at the target, till, unhappily, on one occasion the ball passed through a hole in the door, the loop-hole window, and, crossing the quadrangle, entered whizzing past the dignitary's ear and that of his family who were at breakfast with him into the back of the chair he had but a moment before providentially quitted to take a book from his library shelves.1 The affair occasioned a strict search, and the door in question bore too strong an evidence to escape detection; Rattle was rusticated for a term, but, returning the same singular character, was always in some scrape or other till his final expulsion. Having given the necessary orders for repairs, Mark made one of his best bows, and produced a long scroll of paper, on which was written a list of necessaries?{2} "which," said the ancient, "take notice, every gentleman provides on his taking possession of his rooms." "And every gentleman's scout claims upon his leaving, take notice" said I. Mark bowed assent.

I had now both seen and heard enough of college comforts to wish myself safe back again at Eton in the snug, clean, sanded dormitory of my old dame. Looking first at my purse and then at the list of necessaries, I could not resist a sigh on perceiving my new guinea{3} to be already in danger, that it would require some caution to steer clear of the forest of debt,{4} and keep out of south jeopardy,{5} and some talent to gain the new settlements{6} or prevent my being ultimately laid up in the river tick{7} condemned in the Vice-Chancellor's court,{8} and consigned, for the benefit of the captors, to fort marshal.{9}

1 The circumstance here alluded to actually occurred some time since, when G- C-n and Lord C-e nearly shot Dr. Capplestone of Oriel and his predecessor, Dr. Eveleigh: the former was expelled in consequence.

2 A list of necessaries consists of all the necessary culinary articles, tea equipage, brooms, brushes, pails, &c. &c. &c.

3 New guinea—First possession of income.

4 Forest of debt—payment of debts.

5 South jeopardy—terrors of insolvency.

6 Next settlements—final reckoning.

7 River tick—springing out of standing debts, which only==>

8 Vice-Chancellor's court—creditor's last shift.

9 Fort marshal—university marshal's post, charge themselves at the expiration of three years by leaving the lake of credit, and meandering through the haunts of a hundred creditors.

~154~~ "Rather romantic, but not elegant," said some voices at the door, which, on turning my head, I discovered to be my two friends, Echo and Eglantine, who, suspecting the state of the rooms, from the known character of the previous occupier, had followed me up stairs to enjoy the pleasure of quizzing a novice. "A snug appointment this, old fellow," said Echo. "Very airy and contemplative" rejoined Eglantine, pointing first to the broken window, and after to the mutilated remains of books and furniture. "Quite the larium of a man of genius," continued the former, "and very fine scope for the exhibition of improved taste." "And an excellent opportunity for raillery," quoth I. "Well, old fellow," said Tom, "I wish you safe through dun territory{10} and the preserve of long bills{11}: if you are not pretty well blunted,{12} the first start will try your wind." "Courage, Blackmantle," said Eglantine, "we must not have you laid up here in the marshes of impediment{13} with all the horrors of east jeopardy,{14} as if you was lost in the cave of antiquity{15}: rally, my old fellow, for the long hope,{16}shoot past mounts

10 Dun territory—circle of creditors to be paid.

11 Preserve of long bills—stock of debts to be discharged.

12 Blunted—London slang for plenty of money.

13 Marshes of impediment—troublesome preparation for the schools.

14 East jeopardy—terrors of anticipation.

15 Cave of antiquity—depot of old authors.

16 The long hope—Johnson defines "a Hope" to be any sloping plain between two ridges of mountains. Here it is the symbol of long expectations in studying for a degree.

~155~~ Aldrich and Euclid,{17} the Roman tumuli{18} and Point Failure{19} and then, having gained Fount Stagira{20} pass easily through Littlego Vale,{21} reach the summit of the Pindaric heights{22} and set yourself down easy in the temple of Bacchus{23} and the region of rejoicing"{24} "Or if you should fall a sacrifice in the district of {sappers,{25} old fellow!" said Echo, "or founder in Dodd's sound,{26} why, you can retreat to Cam Roads,{27} or lay up for life in the Bay of Condolence."{28} "For heaven's sake, let us leave the Gulf of Misery," said I, alluding to the state of my rooms, "and bend our course where some more amusing novelty presents itself." "To Bagley wood," said Echo, "to break cover and introduce you to the Egyptians; only I must give my scout directions first to see the old bookseller{29} and have my imposition{30} ready for being absent from chapel this morning, or else I shall be favoured with another

17 Mount Aldrich, mount Euclid—logic and mathematics.

18 Tumuli raised by the Romans—difficulties offered by Livy and Tacitus in the studies for first class honours.

19 Point Failure—catastrophe of plucking.

20 Fount Stagira—fount named after the birth-place of Aris- totle.

21 Littlego Vale—orderly step to the first examination.

22 Pindaric heights—study of Pindar's odes.

23 Temple of Bacchus—merry-making after getting a liceat.

24 Region of rejoicing—joy attendant on success in the schools.

25 District of sabers—track of those who sap at their quarto and folio volumes.

26 Dodd's sound—where the candidate will have to acknowledge the receipt of a certificate empowering him to float down Bachelor Creek.

27 Cam Roads—retreat to Cambridge by way of a change.

28 Bay of Condolence—where we console our friends, if plucked, and left at a nonplus.

29 A well-known bookseller in Oxford generally called imposition G-, from his preparing translations for the members of the university.

30 Imposition—see prick bill.

~156~~ visit from the prick bill."{31} "Agreed," said Eglantine, "and Blackmantle and myself will, in the meantime, visit Sadler, and engage a couple of his prime hacks to accompany you."