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THE ENGLISH SPY:
An Original Work
CHARACTERISTIC, SATIRICAL, AND HUMOROUS.
COMPRISING
SCENES AND SKETCHES IN EVERY RANK OF SOCIETY,
BEING
PORTRAITS
DRAWN FROM THE LIFE
BY BERNARD BLACKMANTLE. [pseudonymn of Charles MOlloy Westmacott]
THE ILLUSTRATIONS DESIGNED BY
ROBERT CRUIKSHANK.
By Frolic, Mirth, and Fancy gay, Old Father Time is borne away.
LONDON:
PUBLISHED BY SHERWOOD, JONES, AND CO.
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1825.
[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
[Illustration: Titlepage]
BERNARD BLACKMANTLE{*} TO THE REVIEWERS.
"But now, what Quixote of the age would care
To wage a war with dirt, and fight with air?"
Messieurs the Critics,
After twelve months of agreeable toil, made easy by unprecedented
success, the period has at length arrived when your high mightinesses
will be able to indulge your voracious appetites by feeding and
fattening on the work of death. Already does my prophetic spirit picture
to itself the black cloud of cormorants, swelling and puffing in the
fulness of their editorial pride, at the huge eccentric volume which
has thus thrust itself into extensive circulation without the usual
_cringings_ and _cravings_ to the _pick fault tribe_. But
I dare defy the venal crew that prates,
From tailor Place* to fustian Herald Thwaites.{**}
* The woolly editor of the Breeches Makers', alias the
"Westminster Review."
** The thing who writes the leaden (leading) articles for
the Morning Herald.
Let me have good proof of your greediness to devour my labours, and I
will dish up such a meal for you in my next volume, as shall go nigh to
produce extermination by _surfeit_. One favour, alone, I crave--give me
_abuse_ enough; let no squeamish pretences of respect for my bookseller,
or disguised qualms of apprehension for your own sacred persons, deter
the _natural_ inclination of your hearts. The slightest deviation
from your _usual course_ to independent writers--or one step towards
commendation from your _gang_, might induce the public to believe I
had _abandoned my character_, and become one of your _honourable
fraternity_-the very _suspicion of which_ would (to me) produce
irretrievable ruin. _Your masters_, the _trading brotherhood_, will (as
usual) direct you in the course you should pursue; whether to approve or
condemn, as their _'peculiar interests_ may dictate. Most _sapient_ sirs
of the secret _bandit'_ of the screen, inquisitors of literature, raise
all your _arms_ and _heels_, your _daggers, masks_, and _hatchets_, to
revenge the daring of an _open foe_, who thus boldly defies your _base_
and _selfish views_; for, basking at his ease in the sunshine of public
patronage, he feels that his heart is rendered invulnerable to your_
poisoned shafts_. Read, and you shall find I have not been parsimonious
of the means to grant you _food_ and _pleasure_: errors there are, no
doubt, and plenty of them, grammatical and typographical, all of which
I might have corrected by an _errata_ at the end of my volume; but I
disdain the wish to rob you of your office, and have therefore left them
just where I made them, without a single note to mark them out; for if
all the _thistles were rooted up_, what would become of the _asses?_ or
of those
"Who pin their easy faith on critic's sleeve,
And, knowing nothing, ev'ry thing believe?"
Fully satisfied that swarms of _literary blow flies_ will pounce upon
the errors with delight, and, buzzing with the ecstasy of infernal joy,
endeavour to hum their readers into a belief of the profundity of their
critic erudition;--I shall nevertheless, with Churchill, laughingly
exclaim--"Perish my muse"
"If e'er her labours weaken to refine
The generous roughness of a nervous line."
Bernard Blackmantle.
CONTENTS. Page
INTRODUCTION 3
PREFACE, IN IMITATION OF THE FIRST SATIRE OF
PERSIUS 5
REFLECTIONS, ADDRESSED TO THOSE WHO CAN
THINK.
Reflections of an Author--Weighty Reasons for writing--
Magister Artis Ingeniique Largitor Venter--Choice of Subject
considered--Advice of Index, the Bookseller--Of the Nature
of Prefaces--How to commence a new Work 7
A FEW THOUGHTS ON MYSELF 14
A SHANDEAN SCENE, BETWEEN LADY MARY OLD--
STYLE AND HORATIO HEARTLY 17
SCHOOL--BOY REMINISCENCES. ON EARLY FRIEND--
SHIP 22
CHARACTER OF BERNARD BLACKMANTLE. BY
HORATIO HEARTLY 25
ETON SKETCHES OF CHARACTER 32
THE FIVE PRINCIPAL ORDERS OF ETON--DOCTOR,
DAME, COLLEGER, OPPIDAN, AND CAD. A
Sketch taken opposite the Long Walk 42
ETON DAMES; AN ODE, NEITHER AMATORY, ILL--
NATURED, NOR PATHETIC 43
ELECTION SATURDAY.
A Peep at the Long Chambers--The Banquet--Reflections
on parting--Arrival of the Provost of King's College, Cam--
bridge, and the Pozers--The Captain's Oration--Busy Monday
--The Oppidan's Farewell--Examination and Election of the
Collegers who stand for King's--The aquatic Gala and Fire--
works--Oxonian Visitors--Night--Rambles in Eton--Transfor-
mations of Signs and Names--The Feast at the Christopher,
with a View of the Oppidan's Museum, and Eton Court of
Claims 58
AN ETON ELECTION SCENE 59
HERBERT STOCKHORE, THE MONTEM POET
LAUREATE.
A Sketch from the Life, as he appeared in the Montem
Procession of May, 1823. By Bernard Blackmantle and
Robert Transit 67
LIFE IN ETON; A College Chaunt in praise of private
Tutors 68
RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD ETONIAN 78
ETON MONTEM 96
FAREWELL TO ETON 105
MY VALE 108
THE FRESHMAN.
Reflections on leaving Eton University--A 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 113
CHRIST CHURCH COLLEGE.
Architectural Reminiscences--Descriptive Remarks--Simi-
litude between the Characters of Cardinal Wolsey and
Napoleon 129
THE DINNER PARTY.
Bernard Blackmantle's Visit to Tom Echo--Oxford Phrase-
ology--Smuggled Dinners--A College Party described--
Topography of a Man's Room--Portrait of a Bachelor of Arts
--Hints to Freshmen--Customs of the University 132
COLLEGE SERVANTS.
Descriptive Sketch of a College Scout--Biography of Mark
Supple--Singular Invitation to a Spread 146
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 151
THE EXCURSION TO BAGLEY WOOD 157
WESTERN ENTRANCE INTO THE METROPOLIS.
A descriptive Sketch.
General Views of the Author relative to Subject and Style
--Time and Place--Perspective Glimpse of the great City--
The Approach--Cockney Salutations--The Toll House--
Western Entrance to Cockney Land--Hyde Park--Sunday
Noon-Sketches of Character, Costume, and Scenery--The
Ride and Drive--Kensington Gardens--Belles and Beaux-
Stars and fallen Stars--Singularities of 1824-Tales of Ton-
On Dits and Anecdotes--Sunday Evening--High Life and
Low Life, the Contrast--Cockney Goths--Notes, Biographical,
Amorous, and Exquisite 164
THE OPERA.
The Man of Fashion--Fop's Alley--Modern Roue and
Frequenters--Characteristic Sketches in High Life--Blue
Stocking Illuminati--Motives and Manners--Meeting with
the Honourable Lillyman Lionise--Dinner at Long's--Visit
to the Opera--Joined by Bob Transit--A Peep into the
Green Room--Secrets behind the Curtain--Noble Amateurs
and Foreign Curiosities--Notes and Anecdotes by Horatio
Heartly 198
THE ROYAL SALOON.
Visit of Heartly, Lionise, and Transit--Description of the
Place--Sketches of Character--The Gambling Parsons--Horse
Chaunting, a true Anecdote--Bang and her Friends--Moll
Raffle and the Marquis W.--he Play Man--The Touter--
The Half-pay Officer--Charles Rattle, Esq.--Life of a modern
Roue--B------ the Tailor--The Subject--Jarvey and Brooks
the Dissector--"Kill him when you want him" 205
THE SPREAD, OR WINE PARTY AT BRAZEN-NOSE.
A College Wine Party described--Singular Whim of
Horace Eglantine--Meeting of the Oxford Crackademonians
--Sketches of Eccentric Characters, drawn from the Life--
The Doctor's Daughter--an old Song--A Round of Sculls--
Epitaphs on the Living and the Dead--Tom Tick, a College
Tale--The Voyagers--Notes and Anecdotes 221
THE OXFORD RAKE'S PROGRESS 233
TOWN AND GOWN, AN OXFORD ROW.
Battle of the Togati and the Town--Raff--A Night--Scene in
the High-Street, Oxford--Description of the Combatants--
Attack of the Gownsmen upon the Mitre--Evolutions of the
Assailants--Manoeuvres of the Proctors and Bull--Dogs--
Perilous Condition of Blackmantle and his Associates, Eglan-
tine, Echo, and Transit--Snug Retreat of Lionise--The High--
Street after the Battle--Origin of the Argotiers, and Inven-
tion of Cant--phrases--History of the Intestine Wars and
Civil Broils of Oxford, from the Time of Alfred--Origin
of the late Strife--Ancient Ballad--Retreat of the Togati--
Reflections of a Freshman--Black Matins, or the Effect of
late Drinking upon early Risers--Visit to Golgotha, or the
Place of Sculls--Lecture from the Big--Wigs--Tom Echo
receives Sentence of Rustication 246
TOWNE AND GOWNE 263
THE STAGE COACH, OR THE TRIP TO BRIGHTON.
Improvements in Travelling--Contrast of ancient and
modern Conveyances and Coachmen--Project for a new Land
Steam Carriage--The Inn--yard at the Golden Cross, Charing
Cross--Mistakes of Passengers--Variety of Characters--Ad-
vantages of the Box--seat--Obstructions on the Road--A
Pull--up at the Elephant and Castle--Move on to Kennington
Common--New Churches--Civic Villas at Brixton--Modern
Taste in Architecture described--Arrival at Croydon; why
not now the King's Road?--The Joliffe Hounds--A Hunting
Leader--Anecdotes of the Horse, by Coachee--The new
Tunnel at Reigate--The Baron's Chamber--The Golden Ball
--the Silver Ball--and the Golden Calf--Entrance into
Brighton 274
THE PROPOSITION.
Family Secrets--Female Tactics--How to carry the Point 287
SKETCHES AT BRIGHTON.
The Pavilion Party--Interior described--Royal and Noble
Anecdotes--The King and Mathews 292
CHARACTERS ON THE BEACH AND STEYNE,
BRIGHTON.
On Bathing and Bathers--Advantages of Shampooing--
French Decency--Brighton Politeness--Sketches of Character
--The Banker's Widow--Miss J----s--Mrs. F----1--Peter
Paragraph, he London Correspondent--J--k S----h--The
French Consul--Paphian Divinities--C---- L----, Esq.
Squeeze into the Libraries--The new Plunging Bath--
Chain Pier--Cockney Comicalities--Royal Gardens--The
Club House 305
METROPOLITAN SKETCHES.
Heartly, Echo, and Transit start for a Spree--Scenes by
Daylight, Starlight, and Gaslight--Black Monday at Tatter--
sail's--The first Meeting after the Great St. Leger--Heroes of
the Turf paying and receiving--Dinner at Fishmongers' Hall
--Committee of Greeks--The Affair of the Cogged Dice--A
Regular Break--down--Rules for the New Club--The Daffy
Club, or a Musical Muster of the Fancy: striking Portraits--
Counting the Stars--Covent Garden, what it was and what it
is--The Finish--Anecdotes of Characters--The Hall of Infamy,
alias the Covent Garden Hell 327
VISIT TO WESTMINSTER HALL.
Worthies thereof--Legal Sketches of the Long Robe--An
Awkward Recognition--Visit to Banco Regis--Surrey Col--
legians giving a Lift to a Limb of the Law--Out of Rule and in
Rule--"Thus far shalt thou go, and no further"--Park
Rangers personified--Visit to the Life Academy, Somerset
House--R. A--ys of Genius reflecting on the true Line of
Beauty--Peep into the Green Rooms of the two Theatres Royal,
Drury Lane and Covent Garden--Bernard Blackmantle
reading his new Play and Farce--The City Ball at the Mansion
House--The Squeeze--Civic Characters--Return to Oxford--
Invite to Cambridge--Jemmy Gordon's Frolic--Term ends 355
ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE ENGLISH SPY.
(By R. CRUIKSHANK unless otherwise attributed)
We hope it will be generally admitted that few volumes have
a more decided claim upon the public patronage, in respect
to the novelty and variety of design, as well as the number
of illustrations, than the one here presented to the reader.
To speak of the choice humorous talent engaged in the work
would only be to re-echo the applauding sentiments of the
reviewers and admirers of rich graphic excellence.
Cruikshank and Rowlandson are names not unworthy a space
upon the same roll with Hogarth, Gilray, and Bunbury: to
exhibit scenes of character in real life, sketched upon the
spot, was an undertaking of no mean importance;
particularly, when it is remembered how great the difficulty
must have been in collecting together accurate portraits.
The work, it will be perceived, contains thirty-six Copper-
Plates, etched, aquainted, and coloured, by and under the
direction of the respective artists whose names appear to
the different subjects, the principal part of which are the
sole production of Mr. Robert Cruikshank. The Wood
Engravings, twenty-eight in number, besides the _Vignettes_,
(which are numerous), are equally full of merit; and will be
found, upon examination, to be every way worthy the superior
style of typographical excellence which characterises the
volume,
I.
THE FRONTISPIECE
Is intended to convey a general idea of the nature of the
work; combining, in rich classic taste, a variety of
subjects illustrative of the polished as well as the more
humble scenes of real life. It represents a Gothic Temple,
into which the artist, Mr. Robert Cruikshank, has introduced
a greater variety of characteristic subject than was ever
before compressed into one design. In the centre
compartment, at the top, we have a view of a Terrestrial
Heaven, where Music, Love, and gay Delight are all united to
lend additional grace to Fashion, and increase the splendour
of the revels of Terpsichore. In the niches, on each side,
are the twin genii, Poetry and Painting; while the
pedestals, right and left, present the protectors of their
country, the old Soldier and Sailor, retired upon pensions,
enjoying and regaling themselves on the bounty of their
King. In the centre of the Plate are three divisions
representing the King, Lords, and Commons in the full
exercise of their prerogatives. The figures on each side are
portraits of Bernard Blackmantle (the English Spy), and his
friend, Robert Transit (the artist), standing on projecting
pedestals, and playing with the world as a ball; not
doubting but for this piece of vanity, the world, or the
reviewers for them, will knock them about in return. On the
front of the pedestals are the arms of the Universities of
Oxford and Cambridge; and in the centre armorial shields of
the Cities of London and Westminster. The picture of a
modern Hell, in the centre, between the pedestals, has the
very appropriate emblems of Misery and Death, in the niches
on each side. Crowning the whole, the Genius of Wit is seen
astride of an eagle, demonstrative of strength, and wielding
in his hand the lash of Satire; an instrument which, in the
present work, has been used more as a corrective of we than
personal ill-nature.
II.
THE FIVE PRINCIPAL ORDERS OF SOCIETY.
The King-Corinthian; an elegant Female-Composite; the
Nobleman-Doric; a Member of the University-Ionic; and the
Buck of Fashion-Tuscan. On the left hand may be seen a
specimen of the Exquisite, a new order in high estimation at
the west end of the Town; and on the right hand stands an
old order of some solidity in the eastern parts of the
Metropolis. Fashion, Taste, and Fame, are emblematical of
the varied pursuits of life; while the Army and Navy of the
country are the capitals that crown the superstructure,
combining the ornamental with the useful.
III.
FIRST ABSENCE, OR THE SONS OF OLD ETONA
ANSWERING MORNING MUSTER-ROLL. 25
A view of the school-yard, Eton, at the time first Absence
is called, and just when the learned Doctor Keat is reviewing
the upper school. (Portraits.)
IV.
THE OPPIDAN'S MUSEUM, OR ETON COURT OF
CLAIMS AT THE CHRISTOPHER. 49
Bernard Blackmantle and Robert Transit sitting in judge-
ment after Election Saturday, apportioning the remuneration
money to the different claimants of the surrounding trophies.
V.
ETON MONTEM, AND THE MOUNT, SALT HILL. 96
An accurate sketch of this ancient customary procession
made upon the spot.
VI.
THE FIRST BOW TO ALMA MATER. 113
Bernard Blackmantle's Introduction to the Big Wig on his
Arrival at Oxford.
VII.
FLOORING OF MERCURY, OR BURNING THE OAKS. 131
A scene in Tom Quadrangle, Oxford.
"If wits aright their tale of terror tell,
A little after great Mercurius fell,
***
Gownsmen and Townsmen throng'd the water's edge
To gaze upon the dreadful sacrilege:
***
------there with drooping mien a silent band
Canons and Bedmaker together stand:--
***
In equal horror all alike were seen,
And shuddering scouts forgot to cap the Dean."
VIII.
COLLEGE COMFORTS. 151
Taking possession of your rooms. Bernard Blackmantle
taking possession of his rooms in Brazennose. Scout's list of
wants. Standing the quiz of the Togati Visible propensities
of your predecessor. The day of purification.
IX.
CAP-ING A PROCTOR, OR OXFORD BULL-DOGS
DETECTING BRAZENNOSE SMUGGLERS. 152
Tom Echo and Horace Eglantine lowering the plate-basket,
after the College-gates are closed, to obtain a supply of fresh
provision, are detected by the Proctor and Town Marshal with
their Bull-Dogs: in their alarm the basket and its contents are
suddenly let fall upon the Proctor, who is not able to under-
stand the joke.
X.
THE ARRIVAL, OR WESTERN ENTRANCE INTO
COCKNEY LAND. 164
Portrait of high and low life Dandies and Dandysettes.
XI.
THE GREEN-ROOM OF THE KING'S THEATRE, R
NOBLE AMATEURS VIEWING FOREIGN CURIOSITIES. 198
Portraits of ten noble and distinguished patrons of the
opera, with those of certain daughters of Terpsichore.
XII.
THE ROYAL SALOON IN PICCADILLY, OR AN HOUR
AFTER THE OPERA. 205
Heartly, Lionise, and Transit in search of Character--The
gambling Parsons--Legs and Leg-ees-Tats men and touters--
Moll Raffle and Bang.
XIII.
OXFORD TRANSPORTS, OR UNIVERSITY EXILES. 235
Albanians doing penance for past offences. A Scene sketched
from the Life. Horace Eglantine is proposing "the Study of
the Fathers," a favourite College toast, while Tom Echo is
enforcing Obedience to the President's proposition by finishing
off a Shirker. Dick Gradus having been declared absent, is
taking a cool nap with the Ice-pail in his arms and his head
resting upon a Greek Lexicon: in the left hand corner may
be seen a Scout bearing off a dead Man, (but not without hope
of Resurrection). Bob Transit and Bernard Blackmantle
occupy the situation on each side of Dick Gradus; in the
right-hand corner, Horace's servant is drawing the last Cork
from the parting bottle, which is to welcome in the peep o' day.
Injustice to the present authorities it should be stated,
that this is a Scene of other limes.--Vide A.
XIV.
SHOW SUNDAY, A VIEW IN THE BROAD WALK,
CHRIST CHURCH MEADOWS, OXFORD. 244
Portraits of the Togati and the town, including big wigs,
nobs, and dons. Among the more conspicuous are Dr. Kett,
Lord G. Grenville, Dr. Grovesnor, Alderman Fletcher, and
Mr. Swan.
XV.
TOWN AND GOWN. 246
Battle of the Togati and Town Raff of Oxford, a night scene.
--Bernard and his Friends, Horace and Tom, distributing
among the Bargees of St. Clement's.
XVI.
BLACK MATINS, OR THE EFFECTS OF LATE
DRINKING UPON EARLY RISERS. 269
A Most Imposing Scene.-Time seven o'clock in the Morn-
ing, the last bell has just tolled, and the University Men have
just turned out, while the hunting-frock, boots, and appear-
ance of some of the party, proclaim that they have just turned
in; all are eager to save fine and imposition, and not a few are
religiously disturbed in their Dreams. The admirable disorder
of the party is highly illustrative of the Effect produced by an
Evening Wine Party in College Rooms.
XVII.
GOLGOTHA, OR THE PLACE OF SCULLS. 272
Tom Echo receiving sentence of Rustication. The Big Wigs
in a Bustle. Lecture on disobedience and chorus of the
Synod. Reports from the Isle of Bull dogs. Running foul
of the Quicksands of Rustication after having passed Point
Failure and The Long Hope. Nearly blown up at Point
Nonplus, and obliged to lay by to refit.
XVIII.
THE EVENING PARTY AT THE PAVILION,
BRIGHTON. (BY O. M. BRIOHTY.) 296
Interior of the Yellow Room--Portraits of His Majesty,
the Duke of York, and Princess Augusta, Marquis and
Marchioness of Conyngham, Earl of Arran, Lord Francis
Conyngham, Lady Elizabeth and Sir H. Barnard, Sir H.
Turner, Sir W. Knighton, Sir E. Nagle, and Sir C. Paget,
sketched from the Life.
XIX.
THE KING AT HOME, OR MATHEWS AT CARLTON
HOUSE. 298
A scene founded on fact; including Portraits of the King,
Mathews, and other celebrated persons.
XX.
A FROLIC IN HIGH LIFE, OR, A VISIT TO BILLINGS-
GATE. 303
A very extraordinary whim of two very distinguished
females, whose Portraits will be easily recognised.
XXI.
CHARACTERS ON THE STEYNE, BRIGHTON. 309
Portraits of illustrious, noble, and wealthy Visitors--The
Banker's Widow--A Bathing Group--The Chain Pier, &c.
XXII.
TOM ECHO LAID UP WITH THE HEDDINGTON
FEVER, OR AN OXONIAN VERY NEAR THE
WALL. 323
Symptoms of having been engaged too deeply in the study
of Hie fathers. Portrait of a well-known Esculapian chief.
XXIII.
MONDAY AFTER THE GREAT ST. LEGER, OR
HEROES OF THE TURF PAYING AND RECEIVING
AT TATTERSALL'S. 329
This sketch was made upon the spot by my friend Transit,
on the Monday following the result of the last Great St. Leger
in 1823, when the Legs were, for the most part, in mourning
from the loss of their favourite Sherwood. Some long faces
will be easily recognized, and some few round ones, though
Barefoots, not easily be forgotten. The Tinkers were many
of them Levanters. Here may be seen the Peer and the Prig,
the Wise one and the Green one, the Pigeon and the Rook
amalgamated together. It is almost unnecessary to say, the
greater part of the characters are portraits.
XXIV.
EXTERIOR OF FISHMONGERS'-HALL, ST. JAMES'S
STREET, WITH A VIEW OF A REGULAR BREAKDOWN. 331
Portraits of the Master Fishmonger, and many well-
known Greeks and Pigeons.
XXV.
INTERIOR OF A MODERN HELL. (Vide the affair of
the cogged dice.) 334
Portraits of upwards of twenty well-known Punters and
Frequenters--Greeks and Pigeons, noble and ignoble--The
Fishmonger in a fright, or the gudgeon turned shark--Expose
of Saint Hugh's Bones--Secrets worth knowing. (See work.)
XXVI.
THE DAFFY CLUB, OR A MUSICAL MUSTER OF
THE FANCY. 339
Interior of Tom Belcher's Parlour. Heartly and Bob in
search of Character. Striking likenesses of Boxers, Betters,
&c.--with a pen and ink Sketch of a Noted--one--a fine
School for Practical Experience. (For key to Portraits-
see work.)
XXVII.
PEEP 0' DAYS AND FAMILY MEN AT THE FINISH. 342
A Night Scene near Covent Garden--Coffee and comical
company.
XXVIII.
FAMILY MEN AT FAULT, OR AN UNEXPECTED
VISIT FROM THE BISHOP AND HIS CHAPLAINS. 345
A Scene near Covent Garden, in which are introduced
certain well-known Characters and Bow-street Officers: in-
cluding Messrs. Bishop, Smith, Ruthven, and Townshend.
XXIX.
THE HALL OF INFAMY, ALIAS OYSTER SALOON,
IN BRYDGES-STREET, OR NEW COVENT GARDEN HELL. 354
Portraits of the old Harridan and her Flask man Tom.
Sketches of Sharps and Flats, Green ones and Impures.
Done from the Life.
XXX.
WESTMINSTER HALL. 361
Portraits of well-known Worthies of the Bar.--The Maiden
Brief.--Dick Gradus examining a Witness.
XXXI.
SURREY COLLEGIANS GIVING A LIFT TO A LIMB
OF THE LAW. 364
Interior of the King's Bench Prison--Rough-drying a Lawyer.
XXXII.
R-A-YS OF GENIUS REFLECTING ON THE TRUE
LINE OF BEAUTY AT THE LIFE ACADEMY,
SOMERSET HOUSE. (BY T. ROWLANDSON.) 365
Bob Transit's first appearance as a student. Sketching
from the Life. Outlines of character. How to grow rich but
not great. Secrets worth knowing, and Portraits of all the
Well-known.
XXXIII.
BERNARD BLACKMANTLE READING HIS PLAY IN
THE GREEN-ROOM OF COVENT GARDEN THEATRE. 366
Portraits of Messrs. C. Kemble, Fawcett, Farley, Jones,
Farren, Grimaldi, Macready, Young, T. P. Cooke, Chapman,
Blanchard, Abbott, Cooper, Yates, and the English Spy;
Mrs. Davenport, Miss Chester, Miss M. Tree, Miss Love, and
Mrs. Davison.
XXXIV.
BERNARD BLACKMANTLE READING HIS FARCE IN
THE GREEN ROOM OF THE THEATRE ROYAL,
DRURY LANE. (by T. Wageman.) 367
Portraits of Elliston, Dowton, Harley, Munden, Knight,
Liston, Oxberry, Sherwin, Gattie, Wallack, Terry, G. Smith,
and Barnard, Miss Stephens, Mrs. Orger, Madame Vestris,
Mrs. Harlowe, and the English Spy. The Likenesses are all
studies from the life.
XXXV.
THE CITY BALL AT THE MANSION HOUSE. 368
Portraits of the Duke of Sussex, the Lord Mayor (Waith-
man) and Lady Mayoress, the Sheriffs Laurie and Whittaker,
Aldermen Wood and Curtis, Sir Richard Phillips, Messrs.
Hone, Patten, with other well-known Characters.
XXXVI.
JEMMY GORDON'S FROLIC. 369
A Cambridge tale. Vide Peter House.
ILLUSTRATIONS ON WOOD
FROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS BY CRUIKSHANK, ROWLANDSON,
GILRAY, AND FINLAY, ENGRAVED BY BONNER AND HUGHES.
VIGNETTE ON TITLE PAGE.
Old Father Time borne away on the shoulders of the Genii,
Frolic, Mirth, and Fancy.
1. The Author's Chamber--Index, the bookseller, and Ber-
nard Blackmantle, projecting a new work
2. Horatio Heartly reading the "English Spy" to Lady
Mary Oldstyle 17
3. A correct view of Eton College from the playing-fields 32
4. The five principal orders of Eton--Doctor, Dame,
Colleger, Oppidan, and Cad. A Sketch taken opposite the
Long Walk 42
5. The Cloisters, Eton College 58
6. Herbert Stockhore, the Montem Poet Laureate, a Sketch
from the Life as he appeared in the Montem Procession of
May, 1823 59
7. Accurate View of the Interior of Eton College Hall 96
8. Interior of Eton School Room 105
9. The Oxonian reclining, an emblematical design 111
10. Five characteristic orders of Oxford 113
11. Portrait of Mr. B--the classical Alma Mater Coachman
of Oxford 128
12. View of Christchurch College 129
13. A Bachelor of Arts drinking of the Pierian Spring 136
14. View of Bagley Wood with the Gipsy party. An
extraordinary fine specimen of art, by Bonner. 157
15. Mother Goose, a portrait 162
16. Kensington Gardons, Sunday Evening. Portraits of
well-known fashionable eccentricities 164
17. Vignette.--he Subject and the Resurrection Jarvey,
or "Kill him when you want him" 220
18. Albanians starting for a spree, or Tom Tick on the road
to Jericho 233
19. Waiting for bail 240
20. The Don and the fair of St. Clement's. An Oxford
scene 243
21. The University Rake's Progress 273
22. The newly invented Steam Coach 274
23. View of the Pavilion, Brighton, from the London Road 286
24. A Night Scene, or, a rum start near B---- H----l 304
25. The Widow's ultimatum. A cutting joke, with a most
affecting catastrophe 313
26. College Frolics, or catching Urals at Ch. Ch. 325
27. Roues rusticating in Surrey, or, the first glimpse of
Banco Regis 363
28. Term, ends--Adieu to fagging--The High-street, Oxford
--The Togati in a bustle--The merry good bye 370
THE ENGLISH SPY.
Nor rank, nor order, nor condition,
Imperial, lowly, or patrician,
Shall, when they see this volume, cry,
"The satirist has pass'd us by:"
But, with good humour, view our page
Depict the manners of the age.
INTRODUCTION.
"The proper study of mankind is man."
A RHAPSODY.
Life's busy scene I sing! Its countenance, and form, and varied hue,
drawn within the compass of the eye. No tedious voyage, or weary
pilgrimage o'er burning deserts, or tempestuous seas, my progress marks,
to trace great nature's sources to the fount, and bare her secrets to
the common view.
In search of wonders, let the learn'd embark,
From lordly Elgin, to lamented Park,
To find out what I perhaps some river's course,
Or antique fragments of a marble horse;
While I, more humble, local scenes portray,
And paint the men and manners of the day.
Life's a theatre, man the chief actor, and the source from which the
dramatist must cull his choicest beauties, painting up to nature the
varied scenes which mark the changeful courses of her motley groups.
Here she opes her volume to the view of contemplative minds, and spreads
her treasures forth, decked in all the variegated tints that Flora,
goddess of the flowery mead and silvery dell, with many coloured hue,
besprinkles the luxuriant land.
Here, reader, will we travel forth, and in our journey make survey of
all that's interesting and instructive. Man's but the creature of a
little hour, the phantom of a transitory life; prone to every ill,
subject to every woe; and oft the more eccentric in his sphere, as rare
abilities may gild his brow, setting form, law, and order at defiance.
His glass a third decayed 'fore reason shines, and ere perfection crowns
maturity, he sinks forgotten in his parent dust. Such then is man,
uncertain as the wind, by nature formed the creature of caprice, and as
Atropos wills, day by day, we number to our loss some mirth-enlivening
soul, whose talents gave a lustre to the scene.-Serious and solemn,
thoughts be hence away! imagination wills that playful satire reign:--by
sportive fancy led, we take the field.
[Illustration: page004]
~4~~
PREFACE, IN IMITATION OF THE FIRST SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND.
Author. However dangerous, or however vain, I am resolved.
Friend. You'll not offend again?
Author. I will, by Jove!
Friend. Take my advice, reflect; Who'll buy your sketches 1
Author. Many, I expect.
Friend. I fear but few, unless, Munchausen-like, You've something
strange, that will the public strike: Men with six heads, or monsters
with twelve tails, Who patter flash, for nothing else prevails In this
dull age.
Author. Then my success is certain; I think you'll say so when I draw
the curtain, And, presto! place before your wond'ring eyes A race
of beings that must 'cite surprise; The strangest compound truth and
contradiction Owe to dame Nature, or the pen of Action; Where wit and
folly, pride and modest worth, Go hand in hand, or jostle at a birth;
Where prince, peer, peasant, politician meet, And beard each other in
the public street;
~6~~
Where ancient forms, though still admired, Are phantoms that have long
expired; Where science droops 'fore sovereign folly, And arts are sick
with melancholy; Where knaves gain wealth, and honest fellows, By hunger
pinch'd, blow knav'ry's bellows; Where wonder rises upon wonder--
Friend. Hold! Or you may leave no wonders to be told. Your book, to
sell, must have a subtle plot--Mark the Great Unknown, wily *****
****: Print in America, publish at Milan; There's nothing like this
Scotch-Athenian plan, To hoax the cockney lack-brains.
Author. It shall be: Books, like Madeira, much improve at sea; 'Tis said
it clears them from the mist and smell Of modern Athens, so says sage
Cadell, Whose dismal tales of shipwreck, stress of weather, Sets all
divine _Nonsensia_ mad together; And, when they get the dear-bought
novel home, "They love it for the dangers it has overcome."
Friend. I like your plan: "art sure there's no offence?"
Author. None that's intended to wound common-sense. For your uncommon
knaves who rule the town, Your M.P.'s, M.D.'s, R.A.'s and silk gown,
Empirics in all arts, every degree, Just Satire whispers are fair game
for me.
Friend. The critic host beware!
Author. Wherefore, I pray? "The cat will mew, the dog will have his
day." Let them bark on! who heeds their currish note Knows not the
world--they howl, for food, by rote.
[Illustration: page007]
~7~~
REFLECTIONS, ADDRESSED TO THOSE WHO CAN THINK.
Reflections of an Author--Weighty Reasons for writing--
Magister artis ingeniique largitor Venter--Choice of Subject
considered--Advice of Index, the Book-seller--Of the Nature
of Prefaces--How to commence a new Work.
Author (solus). I must write--my last sovereign has long since been
transferred to the safe keeping of mine hostess, to whom I have
the honor to be obliged. I just caught a glance of her inflexible
countenance this morning in passing the parlour door; and methought
I could perceive the demon aspect of suspicion again spreading his
corrosive murky hue over her furrowed front. The enlivening appearance
of my golden ambassador had for a few days procured me a faint smile of
complacency; but the spell is past, and I shall again be doomed to the
humiliation
~8~~
of hearing Mrs Martha Bridget's morning lectures on the necessity
of punctuality. Well, she must be quieted, (i.e.) promise crammed,
(satisfied, under existing circumstances, is impossible): I know it
will require no little skill to obtain fresh supplies from her stores,
without the master-key which unlocks the flinty heart; but _nil
desperandum_, he who can brave a formidable army of critics, in pursuit
of the bubble fame, may at least hope to find wit enough to quiet the
interested apprehensions of an old woman. And yet how mortifying is the
very suspicion of inattention and disrespect. I have rung six times for
my breakfast, and as many more for my boots, before either have made
their appearance; the first has indeed just arrived, with a lame apology
from mine hostess, that the gentleman on the first floor is a very
impetuous fellow, requires prompt attention, gives a great deal of
trouble--but--then he pays a great deal of money, and above all, is very
punctual: here is my _quietus_ at once; the last sentence admits of no
reply from a pennyless author. My breakfast table is but the spectre of
former times;--no eggs on each side of my cup, or a plate of fresh Lynn
shrimps, with an inviting salt odour, that would create an appetite in
the stomach of an invalid; a choice bit of dried salmon, or a fresh cut
off the roll of some violet-scented Epping butter;--all have disappeared;
nay, even the usual allowance of cream has degenerated into skimmed
milk, and that is supplied in such cautious quantities, that I can
scarce eke it out to colour my three cups of inspiring bohea.
(A knock at the door.) That single rap at the street door is very
like the loud determined knock of a dun. The servant is ascending
the stairs--it must be so--she advances upon the second flight;--good
heavens, how stupid!--I particularly told her I should not be in town
to any of these people for a month. The inattention of servants is
unbearable; they can tell fibs
~9~~
enough to suit their own purposes, but a little white one to serve a
gentleman lodger, to put off an impertinent tradesman, or save him from
the toils of a sheriffs officer, is sure to be marred in the relation,
or altogether forgotten. I'll lock my chamber door, however, by way of
precaution. (Servant knocking.) "What do you want?" "Mr. Index, sir, the
little gentleman in black." "Show him up, Betty, directly." The key
is instantly turned; the door set wide open; and I am again seated in
comfort at my table: the solicitude, fear, and anxiety, attendant upon
the apprehensions of surprise, a bailiff, and a prison, all vanish in a
moment.
"My dear Index, you are welcome; the last person I expected, although
the first I could have wished to have seen: to what fortunate
circumstance am I to attribute the honor of this friendly visit?"
"Business, sir; I am a man of business: your last publication has sold
pretty well, considering how dreadfully it was cut up in the reviews;
I have some intention of reprinting a short edition, if you are not too
exorbitant in your demands; not that I think the whole number will be
sold, but there is a chance of clearing the expenses. A portrait by
Wageman, the announcement of a second edition, with additions, may help
it off; but then these additional costs will prevent my rewarding your
merits to the extent I am sensible you deserve."
"Name your own terms, Index, for after all you know it must come to
that, and I am satisfied you will be as liberal as you can afford." Put
in this way, the most penurious of the speculating tribe in paper and
print would have strained a point, to overcome their natural infirmity:
with Index it was otherwise; nature had formed him with a truly liberal
heart: the practice of the trade, and the necessary caution attendant
upon bookselling speculations, only operated as a check to the
noble-minded generosity of the
~10~~
man, without implanting in his bosom the avarice and extortion generally
pursued by his brethren.
The immediate subject of his visit arranged to our mutual satisfaction,
I ventured to inquire what style of work was most likely to interest the
taste of the town. 'The town itself--satire, sir, fashionable satire.
If you mean to grow rich by writing in the present day, you must first
learn to be satirical; use the lash, sir, as all the great men have
done before you, and then, like Canning in the Cabinet, or Gifford
and Jeffery as reviewers, or Byron and Southey as poets, you will be
followed more from the fear of your pen than from the splendour of
your talents, the consistency of your conduct, or the morality of your
principles. Sir, if you can but use the tomahawk skilfully, your fortune
is certain. '_Sic itur ad astra_.' Read Blackwood's Noctea Ambrosiance.
Take the town by surprise, folly by the ears; 'the glory, jest, and
riddle of the world' is man; use your knowledge of this ancient volume
rightly, and you may soon mount the car of fortune, and drive at random
wherever your fancy dictates. Bear in mind the Greek proverb, '_Mega
biblion, mega kakon_.' In your remarks, select such persons who, from
their elevated situations in society, ought to be above reproof, and
whose vices are, therefore, more worthy of public condemnation:
'------------Ridiculum acri
Fortius ac melius magnas plerumque secat res.'
By this means you will benefit the state, and improve the morals of
society. The most wholesome truths may be told with pleasantry. Satire,
to be severe, needs not to be scurrilous. The approval of the judicious
will always follow the ridicule which is directed against error,
ignorance, and folly."
How long little Index might have continued in this strain I know not, if
I had not ventured to suggest
~11~~
that the course he pointed out was one of great difficulty, and
considerable personal hazard; that to arrive at fortune by such means,
an author must risk the sacrifice of many old connexions, and incur no
inconsiderable dangers; that great caution would be necessary to escape
the fangs of the forensic tribe, and that in voluntarily thrusting his
nose into such a nest of hornets, it would be hardly possible to
escape being severely stung in retaliation. "_Pulchrum est accusari ah
accusandis_," said my friend, the bookseller, "who has suffered more by
the fashionable world than yourself? Have you not dissipated a splendid
patrimony in a series of the most liberal entertainments? Has not your
generous board been graced with the presence of royalty? and the banquet
enriched by the attendant stars of nobility, from the duke to the right
honorable knight commander. And have you not since felt the most cruel
neglect from these your early associates, and much obliged friends, with
no crime but poverty, with no reproach but the want of prudence? Have
you not experienced ingratitude and persecution in every shape that
human baseness could find ingenuity to inflict? And can you hesitate to
avail yourself of the noble revenge in your power, when it combines the
advantages of being morally profitable both to yourself and society?
'------------Velat materna tempora myrto.'
Virg.
'When Vice the shelter of a mask disdain'd,
When Folly triumph'd, and a Nero reign'd,
Petronius rose satiric, yet polite,
And show'd the glaring monster full in sight;
To public mirth exposed the imperial beast,
And made his wanton court the common jest.'"
With this quotation, delivered with good emphasis, little Index bade
me good morning, and left me impressed with no mean opinion of his
friendship,
~12~~
and with an increased admiration of his knowledge of the world.
But how (thought I) am I to profit by his advice? In what shape shall
I commence my eccentric course? A good general at the head of a large
army, on the eve of a general battle, with the enemy full in view, feels
less embarrassment than a young author finds in marshalling his crude
ideas, and placing the raw recruits of the brain in any thing like
respectable order. For the title, that is quite a matter of business,
and depends more upon the bookseller's opinion of what may be thought
attractive than any affinity it may possess to the work itself.
Dedications are, thanks to the economy of fashion, out of date: great
men have long since been laughed into good sense in that particular. A
preface (if there be one) should partake something of the spirit of the
work; for if it be not brief, lively, and humorous, it is ten to one but
your reader falls asleep before he enters upon chapter the first, and
when he wakes, fears to renew his application, lest he should be again
caught napping. Long introductions are like lengthy prayers before meals
to hungry men, they are mumbled over with unintelligible rapidity, or
altogether omitted, for the more solid gratifications of the stomach, or
the enjoyments of the mind. In what fantastic shape and countenance then
shall an author appear to obtain general approbation? or in what costume
is he most likely to insure success?
If he assumes a fierce and haughty front, his readers are perhaps
offended with his temerity, and the critics enraged at his assurance.
If he affects a modest sneaking posture, and humbly implores their
high mightinesses to grant him one poor sprig of laurel, he is treated
slightingly, and despised, as a pitiful fellow who wants that essential
ingredient in the composition of a man of talent and good breeding,
ycleped by the moderns confidence. If he speaks of
~13~~
the excellence of his subject, he creates doubts both with his readers
and reviewers, who will use their endeavours to convince him he has not
a correct knowledge of his own abilities. But if, like a well bred
man at court, he enters the drawing-room of literature in good taste,
neither too mean nor too gaudy, too bold or too formal, makes his bow
with the air and finish of a scholar and a gentleman, and passes on to
his place, unheedful of remark (because unconscious of offence), he is
sure to command respect, if he does not excite admiration.
Accept then, reader, this colloquial chapter, as the author's apology
for a preface, an imaginary short conference, or letter of introduction,
which brings you acquainted with the eccentric writer of this volume;
and as in all well regulated society a person is expected to give some
account of himself before he is placed upon terms of intimacy with
the family, you shall in the next page receive a brief sketch of the
characteristics of the author.
[Illustration: page013]
~13~~
A FEW THOUGHTS ON MYSELF.
The early biography of a man of genius is seldom, if ever, accurately
given to the public eye, unless, indeed, he is one of those _rara
avis_ who, with the advantages of great qualifications, inherits high
ancestral distinctions. But if, as is generally the case, from obscurity
of birth and humble life he rises into notice by the force and exertion
of his talents, the associates of his brighter fortunes know but little
of the difficulties which have obstructed his progress, or the toils and
fatigues he has endured, to arrive at that enviable point from which the
temple of Fame, and the road to fortune, may be contemplated with some
chance of enjoyment and success. Unwilling to speak of himself, lest he
should incur the charge of vanity or egotism, he modestly trusts to the
partial pen of friendship, or the conjectural pen of the commentator, to
do justice to events which no quill could relate so well as his own,
and which, if impartially and sensibly written, must advance him in the
estimation of society, and convince the world that with the mastery of
the great secret in his power, he was not more capable of appreciating
the characters of the age than familiar with the lights and shadows of
his own.
"Honour and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honour lies."
The reader will, no doubt, anticipate that the name of Bernard
Blackmantle is an assumed quaint cognomen, and perhaps be not less
suspicious of the author's right and title to the honorary distinction
annexed:
~14~~
let him beware how he indulges in such chimeras, before he has fully
entered into the spirit of the volume before him, lest, on perusal,
conviction should compel him to retract the ungracious thought. To be
plain, he is not desirous of any higher honorary distinction than the
good opinion of his readers. And now, sons and daughters of Fashion!
ye cameleon race of giddy elves, who flutter on the margin of the
whirlpool, or float upon the surface of the silvery stream, and, hurried
forwards by the impetus of the current, leave yourselves but little time
for reflection, one glance will convince you that you are addressed by
an old acquaintance, and, heretofore, constant attendant upon all the
gay varieties of life; of this be assured, that, although retired from
the fascinating scene, where gay Delight her portal open throws to
Folly's throng, he is no surly misanthrope, or gloomy seceder, whose
jaundiced mind, or clouded imagination, is a prey to disappointment,
envy, or to care. In retracing the brighter moments of life, the festive
scenes of past times, the never to be forgotten pleasures of his halcyon
days, when youth, and health, and fortune, blest his lot, he has no
tongue for scandal--no pen for malice--no revenge to gratify, but is only
desirous of attempting a true portraiture of men and manners, in the
higher and more polished scenes of life. If, in the journey through
these hitherto unexplored regions of fancy, ought should cross his path
that might give pain to worthy bosoms, he would sooner turn aside than
be compelled to embody the uncandid thought.
"Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
"Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
"With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
"And praises, as she censures, from the heart."
And now, having said nearly as much as I think prudent of myself, and
considerably more than my
~17~~
bookseller usually allows by way of prefatory matter, I shall conclude
this chapter by informing the reader of some facts, with which I ought
to have commenced it, namely--For my parents, it must suffice that my
father was a man of talent, my mother accomplished and esteemed, and,
what is more to their honour, they were affectionate and kind: peace to
their manes! I was very early in life bereft of both; educated at one of
the public schools, I was, in due time, sent to matriculate at Oxford,
where, reader, I propose to commence my Eccentric Tour.
[Illustration: Page018]
[Illustration: Page019]
A SHANDEAN SCENE,
BETWEEN LADY MARY OLDSTYLE AND HORATIO HEARTLY.
"I know him well," said Horatio, with a half-suppressed sigh, as he
finished the introductory chapter to the first volume of the English
Spy, or Colloquial Sketches of Men and Manners. "He is no misanthrope,"
said my aunt, taking off her spectacles to wipe away the pearly drop
which meek-eyed pity gave to the recollection of scenes long passed.
Horatio paused--the book dropped instinctively upon his knee, as
his raised eye involuntarily caught the benign aspect of virtue and
intelligence, softened by the crystal gems of feeling. "I wish I knew
where he lived," said my aunt. "I'll find him out," said Horatio;-"Do,"
said my aunt, "and tell him an old friend of his father's, on whom
fortune has deigned to smile in the winter of her days, would feign
extend to him as much of worldly happiness as can be derived from the
enjoyment of worldly treasure."
~18~~
By that sort of magical attraction which imperceptibly links together
the souls of kindred spirits, Horatio's chair had made an angular
movement, of at least six degrees, in a direction nearer to his
venerable relation: no lover ever pressed with more fervency of
affection the yielding hand of his soul's deity, than did the grateful
nephew, at this moment, clasp within his eager grasp the aged palm of
bounteous charity. "I wish he may accept your kind offer," said Horatio.
"And why should he not?" said my aunt, with a half inclination of
extricating her hand, and a penetrating glance of doubt, directed full
in the face of the speaker: "I know not," said Horatio, (hesitating, as
if fearful of giving offence), "but,"-"But what?" said my aunt;-"But I
fear his natural love of independence, and eccentricity of mind, will
admit of no constraint, which his high sense of honor will anticipate
must be partially the case whenever he submits himself to accept the
favors of even such generous hearts as yours." "He would feel no
such thing," said my aunt. "He could not resist the impression," said
Horatio; "your liberality would, I know, be calculated to dispossess
him of the painful sensation; but if the inherent pride of the man could
be subdued, or calmed into acquiescence, by breathing the enchanting
air of friendship, the weight of gratitude, the secret monitor of
fine-wrought minds, would overpower his tongue, and leave him, in his
own estimation, a pauper of the poorest class." "Then I'll adopt another
mode," said my aunt; "and though I hate the affectation of secret
charities, because I think the donor of a generous action is well
entitled to his reward, both here and hereafter,--I'll hand out some way,
anonymously or otherwise, to indulge my humour of serving him." "You
are an angel!" said Horatio, with his eyes fixed on the ground--(the
spirit of the angel of benevolence,--quoth Reason, whispering in his
ear, would have been
~19~~
a better metaphor,--certainly inhabits the aged bosom of your father's
sister). Horatio's upraised eye rested on the wrinkled front of his
antique relative, just as the corrective thought gleamed in visionary
brightness o'er his brain; the poetic inspiration of the moment fled
like the passing meteor, but the feeling which excited it remained
engrafted on his memory for ever. "How shall we find him out, my dear
Horatio?" said my aunt, her whole countenance animated with delight
at the last flattering ejaculation of her nephew-"where shall we
seek him?--I'll order the carriage directly." The glow of pleasure
and anticipatory gratification, which at this moment beamed in the
countenance of the old lady, brought back the circling current of health
to the cheeks of age, and, with the blush of honest feeling, dispelled
the stains of time; the furrowed streaks of care vanished from her
front, and left her whole frame proportionably invigorated.
If the mere contemplation of a generous action can thus inspire the
young, and give new life to age, what a load of misery and deformity
might not the sons and daughters of nature divest themselves of, by
following the inherent dictates of benevolence! Reflection, whenever he
deigned to penetrate the pericranium of my cousin Horatio, took entire
possession of the citadel, and left him not even the smallest loophole
for the observation of any passing event. He was just fixed in one
of these abstracted reveries of the mind, traversing over the halcyon
scenes of his collegiate days, and re-associating himself with his early
friend, the author of the eccentric volume then in his hand, when the
above monition sprung from his heart, like the crystal stream that
sparkles in the air, when first it bursts through the mineral bondage of
the womb of nature.
"You are right," said my aunt. Horatio started with surprise, almost
unconscious of her presence, or
~20~~
what he had said to deserve her approbation. "True happiness," she
continued, "is the offspring of generosity and virtue, and never
inhabits a bosom where worldly interest and selfish principles are
allowed to predominate. There are many who possess all the requisites
for the enjoyment of true happiness, who, from the prejudices of
education, or the mistaken pride of ancestry, have never experienced the
celestial rapture: they have never been amalgamated with society, are
strangers to poverty themselves, and cannot comprehend its operation
upon others; born and moving in a sphere where the chilling blasts of
indigence never penetrate, or the clouds of adversity appal, they have
no conception of the more delightful gratification which springs
from the source of all earthly happiness, the pleasure and ability of
administering to the wants and comforts of our fellow creatures."
"Yours is the true philosophy of nature, aunt," said Horatio, "where
principle and practice may be seen, arm in arm, like the twin sisters,
Charity and Virtue,--a pair of antique curiosities much sought after,
but rarely found amid the assemblage of _virtu_ in the collections of
your modern people of fashion."
"I'll alter my will to-morrow morning," thought my aunt; "this boy
deserves to be as rich in acres as he already is in benevolence: he
shall have the Leicestershire estate added to what I have already
bequeathed him, by way of codicil."
"You would be delighted with my friend Bernard, aunt," said Horatio,
"that is, when he is in good spirits; but you must not judge of him by
the common standard of estimation: if, on the first introduction,
he should happen to be in one of those lively humours when his whole
countenance is lighted up with the brilliancy of genius, you would be
enraptured by the sallies of his wit, and the solidity of his reasoning;
but if, on the contrary, he should unfortunately
~21~~
be in one of those abstracted moods when all terrestrial objects are
equally indifferent, you will, I fear, form no very favourable opinion
of his merit. He is an eccentric in every respect, and must not be
judged of by the acquaintance of an hour. We were boys together at
Eton, and the associations of youth ripened with maturity into the
most sincere friendly attachment, which was materially assisted by the
similarity of our dispositions and pursuits, during our residence at
college. Your kind notice of my poor friend, aunt, has revived the
fondest recollections of my life--the joyous scenes of infancy, when the
young heart, free from the trammels of the world, and buoyant as the
bird of spring, wings along the flowery path of pleasure, plucking at
will the sweets of nature, and decking his infant brow with wreaths of
fresh gathered wild flowers." Horatio paused, not for want of subject,
but a train of recollections overpowered his memory, producing an
unspeakable sensation, which for a moment choked his utterance.
"There is a blank in this work, which you shall fill up," said my aunt;
"you must perform the office of an impartial historian for your friend,
and before we proceed farther with this volume, give me the history of
your school-boy days."
[Illustration: Page021]
~22~~
SCHOOL-BOY REMINISCENCES.
ON EARLY FRIENDSHIP.
In many a strain of grief and joy
My youthful spirit sung to thee;
But I am now no more a boy,
And there's a gulf 'twixt thee and me.
Time on my brow has set his seal;
I start to find myself a man,
And know that I no more shall feel
As only boyhood's spirit can.
ETONIAN.
There is an imperceptible but powerfully connecting link in our early
associations and school-boy friendships, which is very difficult to
describe, but exceedingly grateful to reflect on; particularly when
the retrospective affords a view of early attachments ripened into
perfection with maturity, and cementing firmly with increasing years.
Youth is the period of frankness and of zeal, when the young heart,
buoyant with hope and cheering prospects, fills with joy, and expands
in all the brightness of fancy's variety. The ambition, lures, and
conflicting interests of the world, have as yet made no inroad upon the
mind; the bosom is a stranger to misery, the tongue to deceit, the eye
glows with all the luxuriance of pleasure, and the whole countenance
presents an animated picture of health and intelligence illumined with
delight. The playfulness or incaution of youth may demand correction, or
produce momentary pain; but the tears of
~23~~
infancy fall like the summer dew upon the verdant slope, which the first
gleam of the returning sun kisses away, and leaves the face of nature
tinged with a blush of exquisite brilliancy, but with no trace of
the sparkling moisture which lately veiled its beauty. This is the
glittering period of life, when the gay perspective of the future seems
clothed in every attractive hue, and the objects of this world assume a
grace divine: then it is that happiness, borne on the wings of innocence
and light-hearted mirth, attends our every step, and seems to wait
obedient to our will.
What a painful reverse may not the retrospective view afford! how unlike
is the finished picture to the inspiring sketch. The one breathing the
soft air of nature, and sparkling in brilliant tints of variegated
hues, serene, clear, and transparent, like the magic pencilling of
the heavenly Claude, shedding ambrosial sweets around. The reverse
indistinct, and overpowered with gloomy shadows, a mixture of the
terrific and the marvellous, like the stormy and convulsive scenes
of the mighty genius of Salvator Rosa, with here and there a flash of
wildest eccentricity, that only serves to render more visible the murky
deformity of the whole.
Horatio had just finished his introductory rhapsody, when the door
opened, and my aunt's servant entered with tea and toast: the simmering
of the water round the heated tube of the urn, tingling in the ears of
Heartly, broke the thread of his narration. There was a pause of nearly
a minute, while John was busy in arranging the equipage. "You should
have waited till I had rung, John," said my aunt. "Please your
ladyship," said John, "you directed me always to bring tea in at six
precisely, without waiting for orders." My aunt looked puzzled: "You
are right, John, I did; and (addressing Horatio) the fault of the
interruption must therefore rest with me." Horatio bowed; the compliment
was too flattering to be
~24~~
misunderstood. "Draw the curtains, John," said my aunt, "and make up the
fire: we can help ourselves to what we want--you need not wait; and
do not interrupt us again until you are rung for." "This is very
mysterious," thought John, as he closed to the drawing-room door; and
he related what he thought to my lady's maid, when he returned to the
servants' hall. "You are, no conjurer, John," said Mrs. Margaret, with
an oblique inclination of the head, half amorous and half conceited--"the
old lady's will has been signed and sealed these three years; I was
present when it was made--ay, and I signed it too, and what's more, I
knows all its contents; there are some people in the world (viewing
herself in an opposite looking-glass) who may be very differently
circumstanced some day or other." John's heart had long felt a sort of
fluttering inclination to unburthen itself, by linking destinies with
the merry Mrs. Margaret; the prospect of a handsome legacy, or perhaps
an annuity, gave an additional spur to John's affectionate feelings, and
that night he resolved to put the question. All this Mrs. Margaret
had anticipated, and as she was now on the verge of forty, she very
prudently thought there was no time to lose. "They are a pair of
oddities," continued the waiting-maid; "I have sometimes surprised them
both crying, as if their hearts would break, over a new book: I suppose
they have got something very interesting, as my lady calls it and Mr.
Horatio is sermonizing as usual."--Mrs Margaret was not far wrong in her
conjecture, for when my aunt and Horatio were again alone, she rallied
him on the serious complexion of his style.
[Illustration: page025]
~25~~
CHARACTER OF BERNARD BLACKMANTLE.
BY HORATIO HEARTLY.
You shall have it from his own pen, said Horatio. In my portfolio, I
have preserved certain scraps of Bernard's that will best speak his
character; prose and poetry, descriptive and colloquial, Hudibrastic and
pastoral, trifles in every costume of literary fancy, according with the
peculiar humour of the author at the time of their inditing, from these
you shall judge my eccentric friend better than by any commendation of
mine. I shall merely preface these early offerings of his genius with a
simple narrative of our school-boy intimacy.
I had been about three months at Eton, and had grown somewhat familiar
with the characters of my associates, and the peculiarities of their
phraseology and pursuits, when our dame's party was increased by the
arrival of Bernard Blackmantle. It is usual with the sons of old Etona,
on the arrival of a fresh subject, to play off a number of school-boy
witticisms and practical jokes, which though they may produce a little
mortification in the first instance, tend in no small degree to display
the qualifications of mind possessed by their new associate, and give
him a familiarity with his companions and their customs, which
otherwise would take more time, and subject the stranger to much greater
inconvenience. Bernard underwent all the initiatory school ceremonies
and
~26~~
humiliations with great coolness, but not without some display of that
personal courage and true nobleness of mind, which advances the new
comer in the estimation of his school-fellows. First impressions are
almost always indelible: there was a frankness and sincerity in
his manner, and an archness and vivacity in his countenance and
conversation, that imperceptibly attached me to the young stranger. We
were soon the most inseparable cons,{1} the depositors of each other's
youthful secrets, and the mutual participators in every passing sport
and pleasure.
Naturally cheerful, Bernard became highly popular with our miniature
world; there was however one subject which, whenever it was incautiously
started by his companions, always excited a flood of tears, and for a
time spread a gloomy abstraction over his mind. Bernard had from his
very infancy been launched into the ocean of life without a knowledge of
his admiral{2} but not without experiencing all that a mother's fondness
could supply: when others recapitulated the enjoyments of their paternal
home, and painted with all the glow of youthful ardour the anticipated
pleasures of the holidays, the tear would trickle down his crimsoned
cheek; and quickly stealing away to some sequestered spot, his throbbing
bosom was relieved by many a flood of woe. That some protecting spirit
watched over his actions, and directed his course, he was well assured,
but as yet he had never been able to comprehend the mystery with which
he was surrounded. His questions on this point to his mother it was
evident gave her pain, and were always met by some evasive answer. He
had been early taught to keep his own secret, but the prying curiosity
of an Eton school-boy was not easily satisfied, and too often rendered
the task one of great pain and difficulty. On these occasions I would
seek
1 Friends.
2 The Eton phrase for father.
~27~~
him out, and as the subject was one of too tender a nature for the
tongue of friendship to dwell upon, endeavour to divert his thoughts by
engaging him in some enlivening sport. His amiable manners and generous
heart had endeared him to all, and in a short time his delicate feelings
were respected, and the slightest allusion to ambiguity of birth
cautiously avoided by all his associates, who, whatever might be their
suspicions, thought his brilliant qualifications more than compensated
for any want of ancestral distinction.
The following portrait of my friend is from the pen of our elegant con,
Horace Eglantine.
A PORTRAIT.
A heart fill'd with friendship and love,
A brain free from passion's excess,
A mind a mean action above,
A hand to relieve keen distress.
Poverty smiled on his birth,
And gave what all riches exceeds,
Wit, honesty, wisdom, and worth;
A soul to effect noble needs.
Legitimates bow at his shrine;
Unfetter'd he sprung into life;
When vigour with love doth combine
To free nature from priestcraft and strife.
No ancient escutcheon he claim'd,
Crimson'd with rapine and blood;
He titles and baubles disdain'd,
Yet his pedigree traced from the flood.
Ennobled by all that is bright
In the wreath of terrestrial fame,
Genius her pure ray of light
Spreads a halo to circle his name.
The main-spring of all his actions was a social disposition, which
embraced a most comprehensive view
~28~~
of the duties of good fellowship. He was equally popular with all
parties, by never declaring for any particular one: with the cricketers
he was accounted a hard swipe{3} an active field{4} and a stout
bowler;{5} in a water party he was a stroke{6} of the ten oar; at
foot-ball, in the playing fields, or a leap across Chalvey ditch, he was
not thought small beer{7} of; and he has been known to have bagged three
sparrows after a toodle{8} of three miles. His equals loved him for his
social qualities, and courted his acquaintance as the _sine qua non_
of society; and the younger members of the school looked up to him
for protection and assistance. If power was abused by the upper boys,
Bernard was appealed to as the mediator between the fag{9} and
his master. His grants of liberties{10} to the commonalty were
indiscriminate and profuse, while his influence was always exerted to
obtain the same privileges for his numerous proteges from the more
close aristocrats.{11} He was always to be seen attended by a shoal
of dependents of every form in the school, some to get their lessons
construed, and others to further claims to their respective stations in
3 A good bat-man.
4 To run well, or keep a good look out.
5 Strong and expert.
6 A first rate waterman.
7 Not thought meanly of. Sometimes this phrase is used in
derision, as, he does not think small beer of himself.
8 A walk.
9 Any sixth or fifth form boy can fag an Oppidan underling:
the collegers are exempted from this custom.
10 The liberties, or college bounds, are marked by stones
placed in different situations; grants of liberties are
licences given by the head boys to the juniors to break
bounds, or rather to except them from the disagreeable
necessity of shirking, (i. e.) hiding from fear of being
reported to the masters.
11 To that interesting original miscellany, the 'Etonian,' I
am indebted for several valuable hints relative to early
scenes. The characters are all drawn from observation, with
here and there a slight deviation, or heightening touch, the
rather to disguise and free them from aught of personal
offence, than any intentional departure from truth and
nature.
~29~~
the next cricket match or water expedition. The duck and green pea
suppers at Surley Hall would have lost half their relish without the
enlivening smiles and smart repartees of Bernard Blackmantle. The
preparations for the glorious fourth of June were always submitted to
his superior skill and direction. His fiat could decide the claims of
the rival boats, in their choice of jackets, hats, and favors; and the
judicious arrangement of the fire-works was another proof of his taste.
Let it not, however, be thought that his other avocations so entirely
monopolized him as to preclude a due attention to study. Had it been so,
his success with the [Greek phrase] would never have been so complete:
his desire to be able to confer obligations on his schoolfellows induced
Bernard to husband carefully every hour which he spent at home; a decent
scholarship, and much general knowledge, was the reward of this plan.
The treasure-house of his memory was well stored, and his reputation as
an orator gave promise of future excellence. His classical attainments,
if not florid, were liberal, and free from pedantry. His proficiency
in English literature was universally acknowledged, and his love of
the poets amounted to enthusiasm. He was formed for all the bustle
of variegated life, and his conversation was crystallized with the
sparkling attractions of wit and humour. Subject to the weakness to
which genius is ever liable, he was both eccentric and wayward, but he
had the good sense to guard his failing from general observation; and
although he often shot his arrows anonymously, he never dipt them in the
gall of prejudice or ill-nature. I have dwelt upon his character with
pleasure, because there are very few who know him intimately. With a
happy versatility of talents, he is neither lonesome in his solitude,
nor over joyous in a crowd. For his literary attainments, they must be
judged of by their fruits. I cannot better conclude my attempt
~30~~
to describe his qualifications than by offering his first essay to your
notice, a school-boy tribute to friendship.
TRUE FRIENDSHIP.
'Infido scurrae distabit amicus.'
Horace.
How very seldom do we find
A relish in the human mind
For friendship pure and real;
How few its approbation seek,
How oft we count its censures weak,
Disguising what we feel.
Adulation lives to please,
Truth dies the victim of disease,
Forgotten by the world:
The flattery of the fool delights
The wise, rebuke our pride affrights,
And virtue's banner's furl'd.
Wherefore do we censure fate,
When she withholds the perfect state
Of friendship from our grasp,
If we ourselves have not the power,
The mind to enjoy the blessed hour,
The fleeting treasure clasp?
This (I have reason to believe his first poetical essay) was presented
me on my birthday, when we had been about two years together at Eton:
a short time afterwards I surprised him one morning writing in his
bedroom; my curiosity was not a little excited by the celerity with
which I observed he endeavoured to conceal his papers. "I must see what
you are about, Bernard," said I. "Treason, Horatio," replied the young
author. "Would you wish to be implicated, or become a confederate? If
so, take the oath of secrecy, and read." Judge of my surprise, when, on
casting my eye over his lucubrations, I perceived he had been sketching
the portraits of the group, with
~31~~
whom we were in daily association at our dame's. As I perceive by a
glance at his work that most of his early friends have parts assigned
them in his colloquial scenes, I consider the preservation of this
trifle important, as it will furnish a key to the characters.
[Illustration: page032]
~32~~
ETON SKETCHES OF CHARACTER.
'----I'll paint for grown up people's knowledge,
The manners, customs, and affairs of college.'
PORTRAITS IN MY DAME'S DINING-ROOM.
At the head of the large table on the right hand you will perceive the
Honourable Lilyman Lionise, the second son of a nobleman, whose ancient
patrimony has been nearly dissipated between his evening parties at
the club-houses, in French hazard, or Rouge et noir, and his morning
speculations with his betting book at Tattersall's, Newmarket, or the
Fives-court; whose industry in getting into debt is only exceeded by
his indifference about getting out; whose acquired property (during his
minority) and personals have long since been knocked down by the hammer
of the auctioneer, under direction of the sheriff, to pay off some
gambling bond in preference to his honest creditor; yet who still
flourishes a fashionable gem of the first water, and condescends to lend
the lustre of
~33~~
his name, when he has nothing else to lend, that he may secure the
advantage of a real loan in return. His patrimonial acres and heirlooms
remain indeed untouched, because the court of chancery have deemed it
necessary to appoint a receiver to secure their faithful transmission to
the next heir.
The son has imbibed a smattering of all the bad qualities of his sire,
without possessing one ray of the brilliant qualifications for which he
is distinguished. Proud without property, and sarcastic without being
witty, ill temper he mistakes for superior carriage, and haughtiness
for dignity: his study is his toilet, and his mind, like his face, is
a vacuity neither sensible, intelligent, nor agreeable. He has few
associates, for few will accept him for a companion. With his superiors
in rank, his precedent honorary distinction yields him no consideration;
with his equals, it places him upon too familiar a footing; while with
his inferiors, it renders him tyrannical and unbearable. His mornings,
between school hours, are spent in frequent change of dress, and his
afternoons in a lounge a la Bond-street, annoying the modest females and
tradesmen's daughters of Eton; his evenings (after absence{1} is called)
at home, in solitary dissipation over his box of liqueurs, or in making
others uncomfortable by his rudeness and overbearing dictation. He
is disliked by the dame, detested by the servants, and shunned by his
schoolfellows, and yet he is our captain, a _Sextile, a Roue_, and above
all, an honourable.
Tom Echo. A little to the left of the Exquisite, you may perceive Tom's
merry countenance shedding good-humour around him. He is the only one who
can
1 _Absence_ is called several times in the course of the
day, to prevent the boys straying away to any great distance
from the college, and at night to secure them in quarters at
the dames' houses: if a boy neglects to answer to his name,
or is too late for the call, inquiry is immediately made at
his dame's, and a very satisfactory apology must be offered
to prevent punishment.
manage the _Sextile_ with effect: Tom is always ready with a tart reply
to his sarcasm, or a _cut_ at his consequence. Tom is the eldest son
of one of the most respectable whig families in the kingdom, whose
ancestors have frequently refused a peerage, from an inherent
democratical but constitutional jealousy of the crown. Independence
and Tom were nursery friends, and his generous, noble-hearted conduct
renders him an universal favorite with the school. Then, after holidays,
Tom always returns with such a rich collection of fox-hunting stories
and sporting anecdotes, and gives sock{2} so graciously, that he is the
very life of dame ------'s party. There is to be sure one drawback to
Tom's good qualities, but it is the natural attendant upon a high flow
of animal spirits: if any mischief is on foot, Tom is certain to be
concerned, and ten to one but he is the chief contriver: to be seen in
his company, either a short time previous to, or quickly afterwards,
although perfectly innocent, is sure to create a suspicion of guilt with
the masters, which not unusually involves his companions in trouble,
and sometimes in unmerited punishment. Tom's philosophy is to live well,
study little, drink hard, and laugh immoderately. He is not deficient in
sense, but he wants application and excitement: he has been taught from
infancy to feel himself perfectly independent of the world, and at
home every where: nature has implanted in his bosom the characteristic
benevolence of his ancestry, and he stands among us a being whom
every one loves and admires, without any very distinguishing trait of
learning, wit, or superior qualification, to command the respect he
excites. If any one tells a good story or makes a laughable pun, Tom
retails it for a week, and all the school have the advantage of hearing
and enjoying it. Any proposition for a boat party, cricketing, or a
toodle into Windsor, or along the banks of the Thames
2 Good cheer; any nicety, as pastry, &c.
~35~~
on a sporting excursion, is sure to meet a willing response from him. He
is second to none in a charitable subscription for a poor _Cad_, or the
widow of a drowned _Bargee_; his heart ever reverberates the echo of
pleasure, and his tongue only falters to the echo of deceit.
Horace Eglantine is placed just opposite to Lily man Lionise, a
calm-looking head, with blue eyes and brown hair, which flows in
ringlets of curls over his shoulders. Horace is the son of a city
banker, by the second daughter of an English earl, a young gentleman of
considerable expectations, and very amusing qualifications. Horace is
a strange composition of all the good-natured whimsicalities of
human nature, happily blended together without any very conspicuous
counteracting foible. Facetious, lively, and poetical, the cream of
every thing that is agreeable, society cannot be dull if Horace lends
his presence. His imitations of Anacreon, and the soft bard of Erin,
have on many occasions puzzled the cognoscenti of Eton. Like Moore
too, he both composes and performs his own songs. The following little
specimen of his powers will record one of those pleasant impositions
with which he sometimes enlivens a winter's evening:
TO ELIZA.
Oh think not the smile and the glow of delight,
With youth's rosy hue, shall for ever be seen:
Frosty age will o'ercloud, with his mantle of night,
The brightest and fairest of nature's gay scene.
Or think while you trip, like some aerial sprite,
To pleasure's soft notes on the dew-spangled mead,
That the rose of thy cheek, or thine eyes' starry light,
Shall sink into earth, and thy spirit be freed.
Then round the gay circle we'll frolic awhile,
And the light of young love shall the fleet hour bless
While the pure rays of friendship our eve-tide beguile,
Above fortune's frowns and the chills of distress
~36~~
The most provoking punster and poet that ever turned the serious and
sentimental into broad humour. Every quaint remark affords a pun or an
epigram, and every serious sentence gives birth to some merry couplet.
Such is the facility with which he strings together puns and rhyme,
that in the course of half an hour he has been known to wager, and win
it--that he made a couplet and a pun on every one present, to the
number of fifty. Nothing annoys the exquisite _Sextile_ so much as
this tormenting talent of Horace; he is always shirking him, and yet
continually falling in his way. For some time, while Horace was in the
fourth form, these little _jeu-d'esprits_ were circulated privately, and
smuggled up in half suppressed laughs; but being now high on the fifth,
Horace is no longer in fear of _fagging_, and therefore gives free
license to his tongue in many a witty jest, which "sets the table in a
roar."
Dick Gradus. In a snug corner, at a side table, observe that
shrewd-looking little fellow poring over his book; his features seem
represented by acute angles, and his head, which appears too heavy for
his body, represents all the thoughtfulness of age, like an ancient
fragment of Phidias or Praxiteles placed upon new shoulders by some
modern bust carver. Dick is the son of an eminent solicitor in a borough
town, who has raised himself into wealth and consequence by a strict
attention to the principles of interest: sharp practice, heavy
mortgages, loans on annuity, and post obits, have strengthened his list
of possessions till his influence is extended over half the county. The
proprietor of the borough, a good humoured sporting extravagant, has
been compelled to yield his influence in St. Stephen's to old Gradus,
that he may preserve his character at Newmarket, and continue his pack
and fox-hunting festivities at home. The representation of the place is
now disposed of to the best bidder, but the ambition of the father has
long since determined upon sending his son (when of age)
~37~~
into parliament--a promising candidate for the "loaves and fishes."
Richard Gradus, M.P.--you may almost perceive the senatorial honor
stamped upon the brow of the young aspirant; he has been early initiated
into the value of time and money; his lessons of thrift have been
practically illustrated by watching the operations of the law in his
father's office; his application to learning is not the result of an
innate love of literature, or the ambition of excelling his compeers,
but a cold, stiff, and formal desire to collect together materials
for the storehouse of his memory, that will enable him to pursue his
interested views and future operations on society with every prospect
of success. Genius has no participation in his studies: his knowledge
of Greek and Latin is grammatical and pedantic; he reads Livy, Tacitus,
Sallust, Caesar, Xenophon, Thucydides, in their original language;
boasts of his learning with a haughty mien and scornful look of
self-importance, and thinks this school-boy exercise of memory, this
mechanism of the mind, is to determine the line between genius and
stupidity; and has never taken into consideration that the mere
linguist, destitute of native powers, with his absurd parade of
scholastic knowledge, is a solitary barren plant, when opposed to the
higher occupations of the mind, to the flights of fancy, the daring
combinations of genius, and the sublime pictures of imagination. Dick
is an isolated being, a book-worm, who never embarks in any party
of pleasure, from the fear of expense; he has no talents for general
conversation, while his ridiculous affectation of learning subjects
him to a constant and annoying fire from the batteries of Etonian wit.
Still, however, Dick perseveres in his course, till his blanched cheeks
and cadaverous aspect, from close study and want of proper exercise,
proclaim the loss of health, and the probable establishment of some
pulmonary affection that may, before he scarcely reaches maturity,
blight the ambitious hopes of his father, and consign
~38~~
the son "to that bourne from whence no traveller returns."
Horatio Heartly. At the lower end of the room, observe a serene-looking
head displaying all the quiet character of a youthful portrait by the
divine Raphael, joined to the inspiring sensibility which flashes from
the almost breathing countenance and penetrating brilliancy of eye, that
distinguishes a Guido. That is my bosom friend, my more than brother, my
mentor and my guide. Horatio is an orphan, the son of a general officer,
whose crimsoned stream of life was dried up by an eastern sun, while
he was yet a lisping infant. His mother, lovely, young, and rich in
conjugal attachment, fell a blighted corse in early widowhood, and left
Horatio, an unprotected bud of virtuous love, to the fostering care of
Lady Mary Oldstyle, a widowed sister of the general's, not less rich in
worldly wealth than in true benevolence of heart, and the celestial
glow of pure affection. Heartly is a happy combination of all the
good-humoured particles of human nature blended together, with sense,
feeling, and judgment. Learned without affectation, and liberal without
being profuse, he has found out the secret of attaching all the school
to himself, without exciting any sensation of envy, or supplanting
prior friendships. Horatio is among the alumni of Eton the king of good
fellows: there is not a boy in the school, colleger, or oppidan, but
what would fight a long hour to defend him from insult; no--nor a
sparkling eye among the enchanting daughters of old _Etona_ that does
not twinkle with pleasure at the elegant congee, and amiable attentions,
which he always pays at the shrine of female accomplishment. Generous to
a fault, his purse--which the bounty of his aunt keeps well supplied--is
a public bank, _pro bono publico_. His parties to _sock_ are always
distinguished by an excellent selection, good taste, and superior
style. In all the varied school sports and pastimes, his manly form and
vigorous constitution gain him a superior
~39~~
station among his compeers, which his cheerful disposition enables him
to turn to general advantage. Nor is he in less estimation with the
masters, who are loud in their praises of his assiduity and proficiency
in school pursuits. Horatio is not exactly a genius: there is nothing
of that wild eccentricity of thought and action which betokens the vivid
flights of imagination, or the meteoric brightness of inspiration; his
actions are distinguished by coolness, intrepidity, and good sense. He
does not pretend to second sight, or a knowledge of futurity; but on the
present and the past there are few who can reason with more cogency
of remark, or with more classic elegance of diction: with such a
concentration of qualities, it is not wonderful that his influence
extends through every gradation of the juvenile band. His particular
attachments are not numerous; but those who have experienced the
sincerity of his private friendship must always remain his debtor--from
deficiency of expression; among the most obliged of whom is--the author.
Bob Transit. Bob has no fixed situation; therefore it would be in vain
to attempt to say where he may be found: sometimes he is placed next to
Bernard, and between him and Heartly, with whom he generally associates;
at other times he takes his situation at the side table, or fills up a
spare corner opposite to Dick Gradus, or the exquisite, either of whom
he annoys, during dinner, by sketching their portraits in caricature
upon the cover of his Latin Grammar, with their mouths crammed full of
victuals, or in the act of swallowing hot pudding: nor does the dame
sometimes escape him; the whole table have frequently been convulsed
with laughter at Bob's comic representation of Miss --------'s devout
phiz, as exhibited during the preparatory ceremony of a dinner grace:
the soul of whim, and source of fun and frolic, Bob is no mean auxiliary
to a merry party, or the exhilarating pleasure of a broad grin.
~40~~
Bob's _admiral_ is an R.A. of very high repute; who, having surmounted
all the difficulties of obscure origin and limited education, by the
brilliancy of his talents, has determined to give his son the advantage
of early instruction and liberal information, as a prelude to his
advancement in the arts. Talent is not often hereditary (or at least in
succession); but the facility of Transit's pencil is astonishing: with
the rapidity of a Fuseli he sketches the human figure in all its various
attitudes, and produces in his hasty drawings so much force of effect
and truth of character, that the subject can never be mistaken. His
humour is irresistible, and is strongly characterized by all the
eccentricity and wit of a Gilhay, turning the most trifling incidents
into laughable burlesque. Between him and Horace Eglantine there exists
a sort of copartnership in the sister arts of poetry and painting:
Horace rhymes, and Bob illustrates; and very few in the school of any
note have at one time or other escaped this combination of epigram
and caricature. Bob has an eye to real life, and is formed for all the
bustle of the varied scene. Facetious, witty, and quaint, with all
the singularity of genius in his composition, these juvenile _jeux
d'esprits_ of his pencil may be regarded as the rays of promise, which
streak with golden tints the blushing horizon of the morn of youth.
As Bob is not over studious, or attached to the Latin and Greek
languages, he generally manages to get any difficult lesson construed by
an agreement with some more learned and assiduous associate; the _quid
pro quo_ on these occasions being always punctually paid on his part by
a humorous sketch of the head master calling first absence, taken from
a snug, oblique view in the school-yard, or a burlesque on some of the
fellows or inhabitants of Eton. In this way Bob contrives to pass
school muster, although these specimens of talent have, on more than one
occasion, brought him to the block. It must however
~41~~
be admitted, that in all these flights of fancy his pencil is never
disgraced by any malignancy of motive, or the slightest exhibition of
personal spleen. Good humour is his motto; pleasure his pursuit: and if
he should not prove a Porson or an Elmsley, he gives every promise of
being equally eminent with a Bunbury, Gillray, or a Rowlandson.
Varied groups are disposed around the room, and make up the back ground
of my picture. Many of these are yet too young to particularize, and
others have nothing sufficiently characteristic to deserve it; some who
have not yet committed their first fault, and many who are continually
in error; others who pursue the straight beaten track to scholastic
knowledge, and trudge on like learned dromedaries. Two or three there
are who follow in no sphere-eccentric stars, shooting from space to
space; some few mischievous wags, who delight in a good joke, and will
run the risk of punishment at any time to enjoy it; with here and there
a little twinkling gem, like twilight planets, just emerging from the
misty veil of nature.
These form my dame's dinner party. Reader, do not judge them harshly
from this hasty sketch: take into your consideration their youth and
inexperience; and if they do not improve upon acquaintance, and increase
in estimation with their years, the fault must in justice rather be
attributed to the author than to any deficiency in their respective
merits.
[Illustration: page 041]
~42~~
THE FIVE PRINCIPAL ORDERS OF ETON, DOCTOR, DAME, COLLEGER, OPPIDAN, AND
CAD. A SKETCH TAKEN OPPOSITE THE LONG WALK.
[Illustration: page042]
[Illustration: page043]
ETON DAMES*; AN ODE, NEITHER AMATORY,
ILL-NATURED, NOR PATHETIC.
Let Oxford beaux, to am'rous belles,
Love's warm epistles write;
Or Cambridge youths, in classic dells,
Invoke the shadowy night.
* The above _jeu-d'esprit_ made its appearance on one of
those joyous occasions, when the sons of old Etona return
from Oxford and Cambridge, filled with filial regard for
early scenes and school-boy friendships, to commemorate a
college election. It was, at the time, purposely attributed
to some of these waggish visitors, a sort of privileged
race, who never fail of indulging in numerous good-humoured
freaks with the inhabitants of Eton, to show off to the
rising generation the pleasantries, whims, and improvements
of a college life. The subject is one of great delicacy, but
it will, I hope, be admitted by the merry dames themselves,
that my friend Bernard has in this, as in every other
instance, endeavoured to preserve the strongest traits of
truth and character, without indulging in offensive satire,
or departing from propriety and decorum.--Horatio Heartly.
~44~~
Let Cockney poets boast their flames,
Of ' Vicked Cupit' patter:
Be mine a verse on Eton Dames--
A more substantial matter.
I care not if the Graces three
Have here withheld perfection:
Brown, black, or fair, the same to me,--
E'en age is no objection.
A pleasing squint, or but one eye,
Will do as well as any;
A mouth between a laugh and cry,
Or wrinkled, as my granny.
A hobbling gait, or a wooden leg,
Or locks of silvery gray;
Or name her Madge, or Poll, or Peg,
She still shall have my lay.
Perfection centres in the mind,
The gen'rous must acknowledge:
Then, Muse, be candid, just, and kind,
To Dames of Eton College.*
* The independent students, commonly called _Oppidans_, are
very numerous: they are boarded at private houses in the
environs of the college; the presiding masters and
mistresses of which have from time immemorial enjoyed the
title of _Domine_ and _Dame_: the average number of
_Oppidans_ is from three hundred to three hundred and fifty.
FIVE PRINCIPAL ORDERS OF ETON
~45~~
PROEM.
Said Truth to the Muse, as they wander'd along,
"Prithee, Muse, spur your Pegasus into a song;
Let the subject be lively,--how like you the Belles?"
Said the Muse, "he's no sportsman that kisses and tells.
But in females delighting, suppose we stop here,
And do you bid the Dames of old Eton appear;
In your mirror their merits, with candour, survey,
And I'll sing their worth in my very best Lay."
No sooner 'twas said, than agreed:--it was done,
Wing'd Mercury summon'd them every one.
MISS A***LO.
First, deck'd in the height of the fashion, a belle,
An angel, ere Chronos had tipt her with snow,
Advanced to the goddess, and said, "you may tell,
That in Eton, there's no better table, you know;"
And by Truth 'twas admitted, "her generous board
Is rich, in whatever the seasons afford."
THE MISS t*****S.
Of ancients, a pair next presented themselves,
When in popp'd some waggish Oxonian elves,
Who spoke of times past, of short commons, and cheese,
And told tales, which did much the old ladies displease.
"Good morning," said Truth, as the dames pass'd him by:
Young stomachs, if stinted, are sure to outcry.
MRS. R******U.
On her _Domine_ leaning came dame B******u,
The oldest in college, deck'd in rich furbelow.
~46~~
She curtsied around to the _Oppidan_ band,
But not one said a word, and but few gave a hand.
Truth whisper'd the Muse,, who, as sly, shook her head,
Saying, "where little's told, 'tis soon mended, it's
said."
MRS. G******E.
When S******e appear'd, what a shout rent the air!
The spruce widow affords the most excellent cheer;
For comfort in quarters there's nothing can beat her,
So up rose the lads with a welcome to greet her:
The muse with true gallantry led her to place,
And Truth said good humour was writ in her face.
MRS. D****N.
With a face (once divine), and a figure still smart,
And a grace that defies even Time's fatal dart,
Dame D****n advanced, made her curtsy, and smiled:
Truth welcomed the fair, the grave, witty, and wild;
All, all gave their votes, and some said they knew
That her numbers by no measure equall'd her due.
MISS S******S.
"By my hopes," said the Muse, "here's a rare jolly pair,
A right merry frontispiece, comely and fair,
To good living and quarters." "You're right," nodded Truth.
A welcome approval was mark'd in each youth.
And 'twas no little praise among numbers like theirs,
To meet a unanimous welcome up stairs.
Miss L******d.
Lavater, though sometimes in error, you'll find
May be here quoted safely; the face tells the mind.
Good humour and happiness live in her eye.
Her motto's contentment you'll easily spy.
five principal orders of eton
~47~~
A chair for Miss L******d Truth placed near the Muse;
For beauty to rhyme can fresh spirit infuse.
MRS. V******Y.
V******y, in weeds led and angel along,
Accomplish'd and pretty, who blush'd at the throng.
The old dame seem'd to say, and i'faith she might well,
"Sons of Eton, when saw you a handsomer belle?"
If any intended the widow to sneer,
Miss A------won their favor, and banish'd the jeer.
Three sisters, famed for various parts,
One clerks, and one makes savoury tarts;
While t'other, bless her dinner face,
Cuts up the viands with a grace,
Advanced, and met a cheerful greeting
From all who glorify good eating.
MRS. W. H****R.
With a smile, _a la confident_, came Mrs. H,
Whose Domine writing to Eton's sons teach:
In college, the handiest man you can find
For improvements of all sorts, both building and mind:
He seem'd on good terms with himself, but the Muse
Said, "the Dame claim'd a welcome which none could refuse."
DAME A****S.
Dame A****s, respected by all, made her way
Through the throng that assembled at Eton that day.
Old Chronos had wrinkled her forehead, 'tis true;
Yet her countenance beam'd in a rich, mellow hue
Of good humour and worth; 'twas a pleasure to mark
How the dame was applauded by each Eton spark.
~48~~
MISS b*******K.
Long and loud were the plaudits the lady to cheer,
Whom the doctor had treated somewhat cavalier:
"Too young," said the ancient, "the proverb is trite;
Age and wisdom, good doctor, not always unite."
"For prudence and worth," said Truth, "I'll be bound
She may challenge the Dames of old Eton around."
A crowd pressing forward, the day growing late,
Truth whisper'd the Muse, "we had better retreat;
For though 'mong the dames we are free from disasters,
I know not how well we may fare with the masters.
There's Carter, and Yonge, Knapp, Green, and Dupuis,*
All coming this way with their ladies, I see.
Our visit, you know, was alone to the belles;
The masters may sing, if they please, of themselves.
Truth mounted a cloud, and the Poet his nag,
And these whims sent next day by the post-office bag.
* Lower, and assistant masters, who keep boarding-houses.
Until lately this practice was not permitted; but it must be
confessed that it is a salutary arrangement, as it not only
tends to keep the youth in a better state of subjection, but
in many instances is calculated to increase their progress
in study, by enabling them to receive private instruction.
[Illustration: page048
[Illustration: page049]
~50~~
ELECTION SATURDAY.
A Peep at the Long Chambers--The Banquet--Reflections on
parting--Arrival of the Provost of King's College,
Cambridge, and the Pozers--The Captain's Oration--Busy
Monday--The Oppidan's Farewell--Examination and Election of
the Collegers who stand for King's--The aquatic Gala and
Fireworks--Oxonian Visitors--Night--Rambles in Eton--
Transformations of Signs and Names--The Feast at the
Christopher, with a View of THE OPPIDAN'S MUSEUM, AND ETON
COURT OF CLAIMS.
Now from the schools pour forth a num'rous train,
Light-hearted, buoyant as the summer breeze,
To deck thy bosom, Eton: now each face
Anticipation brightens with delight,
While many a fancied bliss floats gaily
O'er the ardent mind, chaste as the Nautilus,
Spreading her pearly spangles to the sun:
The joyous welcome of parental love,
The heart-inspiring kiss a sister yields,
A brother's greeting, and the cheering smiles
Of relatives and friends, and aged domestics,
Time-honor'd for their probity and zeal,
Whose silvery locks recall to mem'ry's view
Some playful scene of earliest childhood,
When frolic, mirth, and gambol led the way,
Ere reason gave sobriety of thought.-
Now bear the busy _Cads_ the new-lopt bough
Of beech-tree to the dormitories,
While active Collegers the foliage raise
Against the chamber walls. A classic grove
Springs as by magic art, cool and refreshing,
A luxury by nature's self supply'd,
Delicious shelter from the dog-star's ray.
In thought profound the studious _Sextile_ mark
In learned converse with some ancient sage,
Whose aid he seeks to meet the dread Provost.
The captain fearless seeks the ancient stand,
Where old Etona's sons, beneath time's altar-piece,*
Have immemorial welcomed _Granta's_ chief.
In College-hall the merry cook prepares
The choicest viands for the master's banquet:
A graceful, healthy throng surround the board,
And temp'rance, love, and harmony, prevail.
Now busy dames are in high bustle caught,
Preparing for each oppidan's departure;
And servants, like wing'd Mercury, must fly
O'er Windsor bridge to hail the London coach.
Adieus on ev'ry side, farewell, farewell,
Rings in each passing ear; yet, nor regret
Nor sorrow marks the face, but all elate
With cheerful tongue and brighten'd eye, unite
To hail with joy Etona's holiday.
Now comes the trial of who stands for King's,
Examinations difficult and deep
The Provost and his pozers to o'ercome.
To this succeeds the grand aquatic gala,
A spectacle of most imposing import,
Where, robed in every costume of the world,
The gay youth direct the glittering prow;
A fleet of well-trimm'd barks upon the bosom
Of old father Thames, glide on to pleasure's note:
~51~~
The expert victors are received with cheers,
And the dark canopy of night's illumin'd
With a grand display of brilliant fires.
* Shortly after the arrival of the Provost, he proceeds
through the cloisters, where he is met by the captain, or
head boy of the school, who speaks a long Latin oration
before him, standing under the clock.
To an old Etonian the last week in July brings with it recollections of
delight that time and circumstances can never wholly efface. If, beneath
the broad umbrage of the refreshing grove, he seeks relief from care
and sultry heat, memory recalls to his imagination the scenes of his
boyhood, the ever pleasing recollections of infancy, when he reclined
upon the flowery bosom of old father Thames, or sought amusement in
the healthful exercise of bathing, or calmly listened to the murmuring
ripple of the waters, or joined the merry group in gently plying of the
splashing oar. With what eager delight are these reminiscences of youth
dwelt on! With what mingled sensations of hope, fear, and regret, do we
revert to the happy period of life when, like the favorite flower of the
month, our minds and actions rivalled the lily in her purity! Who, that
has ever tasted of the inspiring delight which springs from associations
of scholastic friendships and amusements, but would eagerly quit the
bustle of the great world to indulge in the enjoyment of the pure
and unalloyed felicity which is yet to be found among the alumni
of Eton?--Election Saturday--the very sound reverberates the echo of
pleasure, and in a moment places me (in imagination) in the centre of
the long chambers of Eton, walking beneath the grateful foliage of the
beech-tree, with which those dormitories are always decorated previous
to election Saturday. I can almost fancy that I hear the rattle of
the carriage wheels, and see the four horses smoking beneath the
lodge-window of Eton college, that conveys the provost of King's to
attend examination and election. Then too I can figure the classic band
who wait to
~52~~
receive him; the dignified little doctor leading the way, followed
by the steady, calm-visaged lower master, Carter; then comes benedict
Yonge, and after him a space intervenes, where one should have been of
rare qualities, but he is absent; then follows good-humoured Heath, and
Knapp, who loves the rattle of a coach, and pleasant, clever Hawtry, and
careful Okes, and that shrewd sapper, Green, followed by medium Dupuis,
and the intelligent Chapman: these form his classic escort to the
cloisters. But who shall paint the captain's envied feelings, the proud
triumph of his assiduity and skill? To him the honourable office of
public orator is assigned; with modest reverence he speaks the Latin
oration, standing, as is the custom from time immemorial, under the
clock. There too he receives the bright reward, the approbation of
the Provost of King's college, and the procession moves forward to the
College-hall to partake of the generous banquet. On Sunday the Provost
of King's remains a guest with his compeer of Eton. But busy Monday
arrives, and hundreds of Oxonians and Cantabs pour in to witness the
speeches of the boys, and pay a tribute of respect to their former
masters. The exhibition this day takes place in the upper school, and
consists of sixth form oppidans and collegers. How well can I remember
the animated picture Eton presents on such occasions: shoals of
juvenile oppidans, who are not yet of an age to have been elected of any
particular school-party, marching forth from their dames' houses, linked
arm in arm, parading down the street with an air and gaiety that implies
some newly acquired consequence, or liberty of conduct. Every where a
holiday face presents itself, and good humour lisps upon every tongue.
Here may be seen a youthful group, all anxiety and bustle, trudging
after some well-known _Cad_, who creeps along towards the Windsor
coach-office, loaded with portmanteaus, carpet bags, and
~53~~
boxes, like a Norfolk caravan at Christmas time; while the youthful
proprietors of the bulky stock, all anxiety and desire to reach their
relatives and friends, are hurrying him on, and do not fail to spur the
_elephant_ with many a cutting gibe, at his slow progression. Within
doors the dames are all bustle, collecting, arranging, and packing up
the wardrobes of their respective boarders; servants flying from the
hall to the attic, and endangering their necks in their passage down
again, from anxiety to meet the breathless impetuosity of their parting
guests. Books of all classes, huddled into a heap, may be seen in the
corner of each bedroom, making _sock_ for the mice till the return
of their purveyors with lots of plum-cake and savoury tarts. The more
mature are now busily engaged in settling the fashion of their costume
for the approaching gala; in receiving a visit from an elder brother, or
a young Oxonian, formerly of Eton, who has arrived post to take _sock_
with him, and enjoy the approaching festivities. Here a venerable
domestic, whose silver locks are the truest emblem of his trusty
services, arrives with the favorite pony to convey home the infant heir
and hope of some noble house.
Now is Garraway as lively as my lord mayor's steward at a Guildhall
feast-day; and the active note of preparation for the good things of
this world rings through the oaken chambers of the Christopher. Not even
the _sanctum sanctorum_ is forgotten, where, in times long past, I have
quaffed my jug of Bulstrode, "in cool grot," removed from the scorching
heat of a July day, and enjoyed many a good joke, secure from the prying
observations of the _domine_. One, and one only, class of persons wear
a sorrowful face upon these joyous occasions, and these are the
confectioners and fruitresses of Eton; with them, election Saturday
and busy Monday are like the herald to a Jewish black fast, or a stock
exchange holiday: they may as well _sport their oaks_ (to use an Oxford
phrase) till the
~54~~
return of the oppidans to school, for they seldom see the colour of a
customer's cash till the, to them, happy period arrives.
On the succeeding days the examinations of the collegers proceed
regularly; then follows the election of new candidates, and the severe
trial of those who stand for King's. These scholastic arrangements
generally conclude on the Wednesday night, or Thursday morning, and
then Pleasure mounts her variegated car, and drives wherever Fancy may
direct. Formerly I find seven or eight scholars went to King's;{*} but
in consequence of the fellows of Eton holding pluralities, the means are
impoverished, and the number consequently reduced to two or three:
this is the more to be regretted, on account of the very severe and
irrecoverable disappointment the scholars experience in losing
their election, merely on account of age; as at nineteen they are
superannuated, and cannot afterwards receive any essential benefit from
the college.
Not the blue waves of the Engia, covered with the gay feluccas of the
Greeks, and spreading their glittering streamers in the sun; nor the
more lovely
* This noble seminary of learning was founded by Hen. VI. in
1440. Its establishment was then on a limited scale; it has
long since been enlarged, and now consists of a provost,
vice-provost, six fellows, two schoolmasters, with their
assistants, seventy scholars, seven clerks, and ten
choristers, besides various inferior officers and servants.
The annual election of scholars to King's College,
Cambridge, takes place about the end of July, or the
beginning of August, when the twelve senior scholars are put
on the roll to succeed, but they are not removed till
vacancies occur; the average number of which is about nine
in two years. At nineteen years of age the scholars are
superannuated. Eton sends, also, two scholars to Merton
College, Oxford, where they are denominated post-masters,
and has likewise a few exhibitions of twenty-one guineas
each for its superannuated scholars. The scholars elected to
King's succeed to fellowships at three years' standing.
~55~~
Adriatic, swelling her translucent bosom to the gentle motion of the
gondolier, and bearing on her surface the splendid cars and magnificent
pageant of the Doge of Venice, marrying her waters to the sea, can to
an English bosom yield half the delight the grand aquatic Eton gala
affords; where, decked in every costume fancy can devise, may be seen
the noble youth of Britain, her rising statesmen, warriors, and judges,
the future guardians of her liberties, wealth, and commerce, all vying
with each other in loyal devotion to celebrate the sovereign's natal
day.{*} Then doth thy silvery bosom, father Thames, present a spectacle
truly delightful; a transparent mirror, studded with gems and stars and
splendid pageantry, reflecting a thousand brilliant variegated hues;
while, upon thy flowery margin, the loveliest daughters of the land
press the green velvet of luxuriant nature, outrivalling in charms of
colour, form, and beauty, the rose, the lily, and the graceful pine.
There too may be seen the accomplished and the gay youth labouring for
pleasure at the healthful oar, while with experienced skill the expert
helmsman directs through all thy fragrant windings the trim bark to
victory. The race determined, the bright star of eve, outrivalled by the
pyrotechnic _artiste_, hides his diminished head. Now sallies forth the
gay Oxonian from the Christopher, ripe with the rare Falernian of mine
host, to have his frolic gambol with old friends. Pale Luna, through her
misty veil, smiles at these harmless pleasantries, and lends the merry
group her aid to smuggle signs, alter names, and play off a thousand
fantastic vagaries; while the Eton Townsman, robed in
* The grand aquatic gala, which terminates the week's festi-
vities at Eton, and concludes the water excursions for the
season, was originally fixed in honour of his late majesty's
birthday, and would have been altered to the period of his
successor's, but the time would not accord, the twelfth day
of August being vacation.
~50~~
peaceful slumber, dreams not of the change his house has undergone,
and wakes to find a double transformation; his _Angel_ vanished, or
exchanged for the rude semblance of an Oxford _Bear_, with a cognomen
thereto appended, as foreign to his family nomenclature "as he to
Hercules." In the morning the dames are wailing the loss of their
polished knockers; and the barber-surgeon mourns the absence of his
obtrusive pole. The optician's glasses have been removed to the door of
some prying _domine_; and the large tin cocked hat has been seized by
some midnight giant, who has also claimed old Crispin's three-leagued
boot. The golden fish has leaped into the Thames. The landlord of the
Lamb bleats loudly for his fleece. The grocer cares not a fig for the
loss of his sugar-loaves, but laughs, and takes it as a currant joke.
Old Duplicate is resolved to have his balls restored with interest; and
the lady mother of the black doll is quite pale in the face with sorrow
for the loss of her child. Mine host of the vine looks as sour as his
own grapes, before they were fresh gilded; and spruce master Pigtail,
the tobacconist, complains that his large roll of real Virginia has been
chopped into short cut. But these are by far the least tormenting jokes.
That good-humoured Cad, Jem Miller, finds the honorary distinction of
private tutor added to his name. Dame ----s, an irreproachable spinster
of forty, discovers that of Mr. Probe, man-midwife, appended to her
own. Mr. Primefit, the Eton Stultz, is changed into Botch, the cobbler.
Diodorus Drowsy, D.D., of Windsor, is re-christened Diggory Drenchall,
common brewer; and the amiable Mrs. Margaret Sweet, the Eton pastry-cook
and confectioner, finds her name united in bands of brass with Mr.
Benjamin Bittertart, the baker. The celebrated Christopher Caustic,
Esq., surgeon, has the mortification to find his Esculapian dormitory
decorated with the sign-board of Mr. Slaughtercalf, a German butcher;
while his handsome brass pestle
~57~~
and mortar, with the gilt Galen's head annexed, have been waggishly
transferred to the house of some Eton Dickey Gossip, barber and dentist.
Mr. Index, the bookseller, changes names with old Frank Finis, the
sexton. The elegant door plate of Miss Caroline Cypher, spinster, is
placed on the right side of Nicodemus
Number, B.A., and fellow of Eton, with this note annexed: "New rule of
Addition, according to Cocker." Old Amen, the parish clerk, is united to
Miss Bridget Silence, the pew opener; and Theophilus White, M.D. changes
place with Mr. Sable, the undertaker. But we shall become too grave if
we proceed deeper with this subject. There is no end to the whimsical
alterations and ludicrous changes that take place upon these occasions,
when scarce a sign or door plate in Eton escapes some pantomimic
transformation.*
* Representations to the masters or authorities are scarcely
ever necessary to redress these whimsical grievances, as the
injured parties are always remunerated. The next day the
spoils and trophies are arranged in due form in a certain
snug sanctum sanctorum, the cellar of a favorite inn, well
known by the name of the _Oppidan's_ Museum; for a view of
which see the sketch made on the spot by my friend Bob
Transit. Here the merry wags are to be found in council,
holding a court of claims, to which all the tradesmen who
have suffered any loss are successively summoned; and after
pointing out from among the motley collection the article
they claim, and the price it originally cost, they are
handsomely remunerated, or the sign replaced. The good
people of Eton generally choose the former, as it not only
enable them to sport a new sign, but to put a little profit
upon the cost price of the old one. The trophies thus
acquired are then packed up in hampers, and despatched to
Oxford, where they are on similar occasions not unfrequently
displayed, or hung up, in lieu of some well-known sign, such
as the Mitre, &c. which has been removed during the night.
~58~~
[Illustration: page058]
The following jeu-d'esprits issued upon the interference of the
authorities at the conclusion of the last Election. The "dance of thirty
sovereigns" is an allusion to the fine imposed, which was given to the
poor.
A Ladder Dance.
A moving golden Fish.
The Fall of Grapes, during a heavy storm.
The Cock'd Hat Combat.
A March to the Workhouse.
Bird-cage Duett, by Messrs. C***** and B****.
A public Breakfast, with a dance by thirty sovereigns.
Glee--"When shall we three meet again."
The Barber's Hornpipe, by the learned D****.
The Turk's Head Revel.
Saint Christopher's March.
The Committee in Danger.
The Cloisters, Eton
[Illustration: page059]
~59~~
HERBERT STOCKHORE, THE MONTEM POET LAUREATE.
A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE,
As he appeared in the Montent Procession of May, 1823.
BY BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, AND ROBERT TRANSIT
Bending beneath a weight of time,
And crippled as his Montem ode,
We found the humble son of rhyme
Busy beside the public road.
Nor laurel'd wreath or harp had he,
To deck his brow or touch the note
That wakes the soul to sympathy.
His face was piteous as his coat,
'Twas motley strange; e'en nature's self,
In wild, eccentric, playful mood,
Had, for her pastime, form'd the elf,
A being scarcely understood--
Half idiot, harmless; yet a gleam
Of sense, and whim, and shrewdness, broke
The current of his wildest stream;
And pity sigh'd as madness spoke.
~60~~
Lavater, Lawrence, Camper, here
Philosophy new light had caught:
Judged by your doctrines 'twould appear
The facial line denoted thought.{1}
But say, what system e'er shall trace
By scalp or visage mental worth?
The ideot's form, the maniac's face,
Are shared alike by all on earth.
"Comparative Anatomy--"
If, Stockhore, 'twas to thee apply'd,
'Twould set the doubting Gallist free,
And Spurzheim's idle tales deride.
But hence with visionary scheme,
Though Bell, or Abernethy, write;
Be Herbert Stockhore all my theme,
The laureate's praises I indite;
He erst who sung in Montem's praise,
And, Thespis like, from out his cart
Recited his extempore lays,
On Eton's sons, in costume smart,
Who told of captains bold and grand,
Lieutenants, marshals, seeking _salt_;
Of colonels, majors, cap in hand,
Who bade e'en majesty to halt;
1 It is hardly possible to conceive a more intelligent,
venerable looking head, than poor Herbert Stockhore
presents; a fine capacious forehead, rising like a
promontory of knowledge, from a bold outline of countenance,
every feature decisive, breathing serenity and
thoughtfulness, with here and there a few straggling locks
of silvery gray, which, like the time-discoloured moss upon
some ancient battlements, are the true emblems of antiquity:
the eye alone is generally dull and sunken in the visage,
but during his temporary gleams of sanity, or fancied
flights of poetical inspiration, it is unusually bright and
animated. According to professor Camper, I should think the
facial line would make an angle of eighty or ninety degrees;
and, judging upon the principles laid down by Lavater, poor
Herbert might pass for a Solon. Of his bumps, or
phrenological protuberances, I did not take particular
notice, but I have no doubt they would be found, upon
examination, equally illustrative of such visionary systems.
~61~~
Told how the ensign nobly waved
The colours on the famous hill;
And names from dull oblivion saved,
Who ne'er the niche of fame can fill:
Who, like to Campbell, lends his name.{2}
To many a whim he ne'er did write;
When witty scholars, to their shame,
'Gainst masters hurl a satire trite.{3}
But fare thee well, Ad Montem's bard,{4}
Farewell, my mem'ry's early friend
2 The author of "the Pleasures of Hope," and the editor of
the New Monthly; but-"_Tarde, quo credita lodunt,
credimus_."
3 It has long been the custom at Eton, particularly during
Montem, to give Herbert Stockhore the credit of many a
satirical whim, which he, poor fellow, could as easily have
penned as to have written a Greek ode. These squibs are
sometimes very humorous, and are purposely written in
doggrel verse to escape detection by the masters, who are
not unfrequently the principal porsons alluded to.
4 The following laughable production was sold by poor
Herbert Stockhore during the last Montem: we hardly think we
need apologise for introducing this specimen of his muse:
any account of Eton characteristics must have been held
deficient without it.
THE MONTEM ODE. May 20, 1823.
Muses attend! the British channel flock o'er,
Call'd by your most obedient servant, Stockhore.
Aid me, O, aid me, while I touch the string;
Montem and Captain Barnard's praise I sing;
Captain Barnard, the youth so noble and bright,
That none dare dispute his worthy right
To that gay laurel which his brother wore,
In times that 1 remember long before.
What are Olympic honours compared to thine,
0 Captain, when Majesty does combine
With heroes, their wives, sons and daughters great,
To visit this extremely splendid fete.
Enough! I feel a sudden inspiration fill
My bowels; just as if the tolling bell
Had sent forth sounds a floating all along the air
Just such Parnassian sounds, though deaf, I'm sure I hear.
~62~~
May misery never press thee hard,
Ne'er may disease thy steps attend:
Listen, ye gents; rude Boreas hold your tongue!
The pomp advances, and my lyre is strung.
First comes Marshal Thackeray,
Dress'd out in crack array;
Ar'nt he a whacker, eh?
His way he picks,
Follow'd by six,
Like a hen by her chicks:
Enough! he's gone.
As this martial Marshall
Is to music partial,
The bandsmen march all
His heels upon.
He who hits the balls such thumps,
King of cricket-bats and stumps,--
Barnard comes;
Sound the drums--
Silence! he's past.
Eight fair pages,
Of different ages,
Follow fast.
Next comes the Serjeant-Major,
Who, like an old stager,
Without need of bridle
Walks steadily; the same
Dolphin Major by name,
Major Dolphin by title.
Next struts Serjeant Brown,
Very gay you must own;
With gallant Mr. Hughes,
In well-polish'd shoes;
Then Sampson, who tramps on,
Strong as his namesake.
Then comes Webb, who don't dread
To die for his fame's sake.
Next shall I sing
Of Serjeant King,
And Horace Walpole,
Holding a tall pole,
Who follows King and Antrobus,
Though he's "pulchrior ambobus."
~63~~
Be all thy wants by those supply'd,
Whom charity ne'er fail'd to move{5}:
5 This eccentric creature has for many years subsisted
entirely upon the bounty of the Etonians, and the
inhabitants of Windsor and Eton, who never fail to
administer to his wants, and liberally supply him with many
little comforts in return for his harmless pleasantries.
Then to Salthill speed on,
While the troops they lead on;
Both Mr. Beadon,
And Serjeant Mitford,
Who's ready to fi't for't.
Then Mr. Carter follows a'ter;
And Denman,
Worth ten men,
Like a Knight of the Garter;
And Cumberbatch,
Without a match,
Tell me, who can be smarter?
Then Colonel Hand,
Monstrous grand,
Closes the band.
Pass on, you nameless crowd,
Pass on. The Ensign proud
Comes near. Let all that can see
Behold the Ensign Dansey;
See with what elegance he
Waves the flag--to please the fancy.
Pass on, gay crowd; Le Mann, the big,
Bright with gold as a guinea-pig,
The big, the stout, the fierce Le Mann,
Walks like a valiant gentleman.
But take care of your pockets,
Here's Salt-bearer Platt,
With a bag in his hand,
And a plume in his hat;
A handsomer youth, sure small-clothes ne'er put on,
Though very near rival'd by elegant Sutton.
Thus then has pass'd this grand procession,
In most magnificent progression.
Farewell you gay and happy throng!
~64~~
Etona's motto, crest, and pride,
Is feeling, courage, friendship, love.
Farewell my Muse! farewell my song'
Farewell Salthill! farewell brave Captain;
As ever uniform was clapt in;
Since Fortune's kind, pray do not mock her;
Your humble poet,
HERBERT STOCKHORE.
Herbert Stockhore was originally a bricklayer, and now resides at a
little house which he has built for himself, and called Mount Pleasant,
in a lane leading from Windsor to the Meadows. He has a wife and
daughter, honest, industrious people, who reside with him, and are by no
means displeased at the visit of a stranger to their eccentric relative.
Some idea of the old man's amusing qualifications may be conceived from
the following description, to which I have added the account he gives
of his heraldic bearings. It must be recollected that the Etonians
encourage these whims in the poor old man, and never lose an opportunity
of impressing Stockhore with a belief in the magnificent powers of
his genius.--After we had heard him recite several of his unconnected
extempore rhapsodies, we were to be indulged with the Montem ode; this
the old man insisted should be spoken in his gala dress; nor could all
the entreaties of his wife and daughter, joined to those of myself and
friend (fearful of appearing obtrusive), dissuade old Herbert from his
design. He appeared quite frantic with joy when the dame brought forth
from an upper apartment these insignia of his laureateship; the careful
manner in which they were folded up and kept clean gave us to understand
that the good woman herself set some store by them. The wife and
daughter now proceeded to robe the laureate bard: the first garment
which was placed over his shoulders, and came below his waist, was a
species of tunic made out of patches of bed-furniture, trimmed in the
most fantastic manner with fragments of worsted fringe of all colors.
Over this he wore an old military jacket, of a very ancient date in
respect to costume, and trimmed like the robe with fringe of every
variety. A pair of loose trowsers of the same materials as the tunic
were also displayed; but the fashion of the poet's head-dress exceeded
all the rest for whimsicality: round an old soldier's cap a sheet of
pasteboard was bent to a spiral form, rising about fourteen inches, and
covered with some pieces of chintz bed-furniture of a very rich pattern;
in five separate circles, was disposed as many different colors of
fringes; some worsted twisted, to resemble feathers, was suspended from
the side; and the whole had the most grotesque appearance, more nearly
resembling the papal crown in similitude than any thing else I can
conceive.
~65~~
Poor harmless soul, thy merry stave
Shall live when nobler poets bend;
The poor old fellow seemed elated to a degree. We had sent for a little
ale for him, but were informed he was not accustomed to drink much of
any strong liquor. After a glass, Herbert recited with great gesture and
action, but in a very imperfect manner, the Montem ode; and then for
a few minutes seemed quite exhausted. During this exhibition my friend
Transit was engaged in sketching his portrait, a circumstance that
appeared to give great pleasure to the wife and daughter, who earnestly
requested, if it was published, to be favored with a copy. We had now
become quite familiar with the old man, and went with him to view his
Montem car and Arabian pony, as he called them, in a stable adjoining
the house. On our return, my friend Transit observed that his cart
required painting, and should be decorated with some appropriate emblem.
Herbert appeared to understand the idea, and immediately proceeded to
give us a history of his heraldic bearings, or, as he said, what his
coat of arms should be, which, he assured us, the gentlemen of Eton
had subscribed for, and were having prepared at the Heralds' College in
London, on purpose for him to display next Montem. "My grand-father,"
said Stockhore, "was a hatter, therefore I am entitled to the beaver in
the first quarter of my shield. My grandfather by my mother's side was
a farmer, therefore I should have the wheat-sheaf on the other part.
My own father was a pipe-maker, and that gives me a noble ornament, the
cross pipes and glasses, the emblems of good fellowship. Now my wife's
father was a tailor, and that yields me a goose: those are the bearings
of the four quarters of my shield. Now, sir, I am a poet--ay, the poet
laureate of Montem; and that gives me a right to the winged horse for
my crest. There's a coat of arms for you," said poor Herbert; "why, it
would beat every thing but the king's; ay, and his too, if it wasn't for
the lion and crown." The attention we paid to this whim pleased the poor
creature mightily; he was all animation and delight. But the day was
fast declining: so, after making the poor people a trifling present for
the trouble we had given them, my friend Transit and myself took our
farewell of poor Herbert, not, I confess, without regret; for I think
the reader will perceive by this brief sketch thero is great character
and amusement in his harmless whims. I have been thus particular in my
description of him, because he is always at Montem time an object of
much curiosity; and to every Etonian of the last thirty years, his
peculiarities must have frequently afforded amusement.
~66~~
And when Atropos to the grave
Thy silvery locks of gray shall send,
Etona's sons shall sing thy fame,
_Ad Montem_ still thy verse resound,
Still live an ever cherish'd name,
As long as _salt_{2} and sock abound.
2 Salt is the name given to the money collected at Montem.
[Illustration: page066]
THE DOUBTFUL POINT.
"Why should I not read it," thought Horatio, hesitating, with the MSS.
of Life in Eton half opened in his hand. A little Chesterfield deity,
called Prudence, whispered--"Caution." "Well, Miss Hypocrisy," quoth
the Student, "what serious offence shall I commit against propriety
or morality by reading a whimsical jeu-d'esprit, penned to explain the
peculiar lingual localisms of Eton, and display her chief characteristic
follies." "It is slang," said Prudence. "Granted," said Horatio: "but he
who undertakes to depict real life must not expect to make a pleasing or
a correct picture, without the due proportions of light and shade. 'Vice
to be hated needs but to be seen.' Playful satire may do more towards
correcting the evil than all the dull lessons of sober-tongued morality
can ever hope to effect." Candour, who just then happened to make a
passing call, was appointed referee; and, without hesitation, agreed
decidedly with Horatio.{1}
1 Life at Eton will not, I hope, be construed into any
intention of the author's to follow in the track of any
previous publication: his object is faithfully to delineate
character, not to encourage vulgar phraseology, or
promulgate immoral sentiment.
~67~~
LIFE IN ETON;
A COLLEGE CHAUNT IN PRAISE OF PRIVATE
TUTORS.{1}
Time hallowed shades, and noble names,
Etonian classic bowers;
Pros,{2} masters, fellows, and good dames,{3}
Where pass'd my school-boy hours;
1 Private tutor, in the Eton school phrase, is another term
for a _Cad_, a fellow who lurks about college, and assists
in all _sprees_ and sports by providing dogs, fishing
tackle, guns, horses, bulls for baiting, a badger, or in
promoting any other interdicted, or un-lawful pastime. A
dozen or more of these well known characters may be seen
loitering in front of the college every morning, making
their arrangement with their pupils, the _Oppidans_, for a
day's sport, to commence the moment school is over. They
formerly used to occupy a seat on the low wall, in front of
the college, but the present headmaster has recently
interfered to expel this assemblage; they still, however,
carry on their destructive intercourse with youth, by
walking about, and watching their opportunity for
communication. The merits of these worthies are here
faithfully related, and will be instantly recognised by any
Etonian of the last thirty years.
2 _PROS_. Eton college is governed by a provost, vice-
provost, six fellows, a steward of the courts, head-master,
and a lower, or second master; to which is added, nine
assistant masters, and five extra ones, appointed to teach
French, writing, drawing, fencing, and dancing. The school
has materially increased in numbers within the last few
years, and now contains nearly five hundred scholars, sons
of noblemen and gentlemen, and may be truly said to be the
chief nursery for the culture of the flower of the British
nation.--See note to page 54.
3 _DAMES_. The appellation given to the females who keep
boarding-houses in Eton. These houses, although out of the
college walls, are subject to the surveillance of the head
master and fellows, to whom all references and complaints
are made.
~69~~
Come list', while I with con,{4} and sock{5}
And chaunt,{6} both ripe and mellow,
Tell how you knowledge stores unlock,
To make a clever fellow.{7}
For Greek and Latin, classic stuff,
Let tug muttons{8}compose it;
Give oppidans{9} but blunt{10 }enough,
What odds to them who knows it.
A dapper dog,{11} a right coolfish,{12}
Who snugly dines on pewter;
Quaffs Bulstrode ale,{13} and takes his dish.
4 CON. A con is a companion, or friend; as, "you are
cons of late."
5 SOCK signifies eating or drinking niceties; as, pastry,
jellies, Bishop, &c.
6 CHAUNT, a good song; to versify.
7 This is not intended as an imputation on the learned
fellows of Eton college, but must be taken in the vulgar
acceptation--you're a clever fellow, &c.
8 TUG MUTTONS, or Tugs, collegers, foundation scholars; an
appellation given to them by the oppidans, in derision of
the custom which has prevailed from the earliest period, and
is still continued, of living entirely on roast mutton; from
January to December no other description of meat is ever
served up at College table in the hall. There are seventy of
these young gentlemen on the foundation who, if they miss
their election when they are nineteen, lose all the benefits
of a fellowship.
9 OPPIDANS, independent scholars not on the foundation.
10 BLUNT, London slang (for money), in use here.
11 A DAPPER DOC, any thing smart, or pleasing, as, "Ay,
that's dapper," or, "you are a dapper dog."
12 A RIGHT COOL FISH, one who is not particular what he says
or does.
13 BULSTRODE ALE, a beverage in great request at the
Christopher. When the effects were sold at Bulstrode,
Garraway purchased a small stock of this famous old ale,
which by some miraculous process he has continued to serve
out in plentiful quantities ever since. The joke has of late
been rather against mine host of the Christopher, who,
however, to do him justice, has an excellent tap, which is
now called the queen's, from some since purchased at
Windsor: this is sold in small quarts, at one shilling per
jug.
~70~~
In private with his tutor.{14}
In lieu of ancient learned lore,
Which might his brain bewilder,
Rum college slang he patters o'er,
With cads{15 }who chouse{16} the guilder.
Who's truly learn'd must read mankind,
Truth's axiom inculcates:
The world's a volume to the mind,
Instructive more than pulpits.{17}
Come fill the bowl with _Bishop_ up,
_Clods,{18} Fags,{19} and Skugs{20} and Muttons{21}_;
When _absence_{22} calls ye into sup,
Drink, drink to me, ye gluttons.
I'll teach ye how to kill dull care,
Improve your box of knowledge,{23}
14 Many of the young noblemen and gentlemen at Eton are
accompanied by private tutors, who live with them to
expedite their studies; they are generally of the College,
and recommended by the head master for their superior
endowments.
15 CAD, a man of all work, for dirty purposes, yclept
private tutor. See note 1, page 68.
16 CHOUSE the GUILDER. Chouse or chousing is generally
applied to any transaction in which they think they may have
been cheated or overcharged.
Guilder is a cant term for gold.
17 Nothing in the slightest degree unorthodox is meant to
be inferred from this reasoning, but simply the sentiment
of this quotation-'The proper study of mankind is man.'
18 CLODS, as, "you clod," a town boy, or any one not an
Etonian, no matter how respectable.
19 FAGS, boys in the lower classes. Every fifth form boy has
his fag.
20 SCUG or SKUG, a lower boy in the school, relating to
sluggish. 21 MUTTONS. See note 8.
22 ABSENCE. At three-quarters past eight in summer, and
earlier in winter, several of the masters proceed to the
different dames' houses, and call absence, when every boy is
compelled to be instantly in quarters for the night, on pain
of the most severe punishment.
23 BOX of KNOWLEDGE, the pericranium.
With all that's witty, choice, and rare,
'Fore all the _Slugs_{24} of college.
Of private tutors, vulgo Cads,
A list I mean to tender;
The qualities of all the lads,
Their prices to a _bender_.{25}
First, Shampo Carter{26} doffs his _tile_,
To dive, to fish, or fire;
There's few can better time beguile,
And none in sporting higher.
24 SLUGS of College, an offensive appellation applied to the
fellows of Eton by the townsmen.
25 BENDER, a sixpence.
26 Note from Bernard Blackmantle, M.A. to Shampo Carter and
Co. P.T.'s:--
MESSIEURS THE CADS OF ETON, In handing down to posterity
your multifarious merits and brilliant qualifications, you
will perceive I have not forgotten the signal services and
delightful gratifications so often afforded me in the days
of my youth. Be assured, most assiduous worthies, that I am
fully sensible of all your merits, and can appreciate justly
your great usefulness to the rising generation. You are the
sappers and miners of knowledge, who attack and destroy the
citadel of sense before it is scarcely defensible. It is no
fault of yours if the stripling of Eton is not, at eighteen,
well initiated into all the mysteries of life, excepting
only the, to him, mysterious volumes of the classics. To do
justice to all was not within the limits of my work; I have
therefore selected from among you the most distinguished
names, and I flatter myself, in so doing, I have omitted
very few of any note; if, however, any efficient member of
your brotherhood should have been unintentionally passed by,
he has only to forward an authenticated copy of his
biography and peculiar merits to the publisher, to meet with
insertion in a second edition.
Bernard Blackmantle.
Bill Carter is, after all, a very useful fellow, if it was
only in teaching the young Etonians to swim, which he does,
by permission of the head master.
Tile, a hat.
~72~~
Joe Cannon, or my lord's a gun,{27}
A regular nine pounder;
To man a boat, stands number one,
And ne'er was known to flounder.
There's Foxey Hall{28} can throw the line
With any Walton angler;
To tell his worth would task the Nine,
Or pose a Cambridge wrangler.
Next, Pickey Powell{29} at a ball
Is master of the wicket;
Can well deliver at a call
A trite essay on cricket.
Jem Flowers {30} baits a badger well,
For a bull _hank, or tyke_, sir;
And as an out and out bred _swell_,{31}
Was never seen his like.
27 A GUN--"He's a great gun," a good fellow, a knowing one.
Joe is a first rate waterman, and by the Etonians styled
"Admiral of the fleet."
28 "Not a better fellow than Jack Hall among the Cads," said
an old Etonian, "or a more expert angler." Barb, Gudgeon,
Dace, and Chub, seem to bite at his bidding; and if they
should be a little shy, why Jack knows how to "go to work
with the net."
29 Who, that has been at Eton, and enjoyed the manly and
invigorating exercise of cricket, has not repeatedly heard
Jem Powell in tones of exultation say, "Only see me '_liver
thin here_ ball, my young master?" And, in good truth, Jem
is right, for very few can excel him in that particular: and
then (when Jem is _Bacchi plenis_,) who can withstand his
_quart of sovereigns_. On such occasions Jem is seen
marching up and down before the door of his house, with a
silver quart tankard filled with gold--the savings of many
years of industry.
30 Jem Flowers is an old soldier; and, in marshalling the
forces for a bull or a badger-bait, displays all the tactics
of an experienced general officer. Caleb Baldwin would no
more bear comparison with Jem than a flea does to an
elephant.
31 When it is remembered how near Eton is to London, and how
frequent the communication, it will appear astonishing, but
highly creditable to the authorities, that so little of the
current slang of the day is to be met with here.
~73~~
There's Jolly Jem,{32} who keeps his punt,
And dogs to raise the siller;
Of _cads_, the captain of the hunt,
A right and tight good miller.
Next Barney Groves,{33} a learned wight,
The impounder of cattle,
Dilates on birth and common right,
And threats _black slugs_ with battle.
Big George {34} can teach the use of fives,
Or pick up a prime terrier;
Or _spar_, or keep the game alive,
With beagle, bull, or harrier.
Savager{35} keeps a decent nag,
32 Jem Miller was originally a tailor; but having dropt a
stitch or two in early life, _listed_ into a sporting
regiment of Cads some years since; and being a better shot
at hares and partridges than he was considered at the _heavy
goose_, has been promoted to the rank of captain of the
private tutors. Jem is a true jolly fellow; his house
exhibits a fine picture of what a sportsman's hall should
be, decorated with all the emblems of fishing, fowling, and
hunting, disposed around in great taste.
33 Barney Groves, the haughward, or impounder of stray
cattle at Eton, is one of the most singular characters I
have ever met with. Among the ignorant Barney is looked up
to as the fountain of local and legal information; and it is
highly ludicrous to hear him expatiate on his favourite
theme of "our birthrights and common rights;" tracing the
first from the creation, and deducing argument in favor of
his opinions on the second from doomsday book, through all
the intricate windings of the modern inclosure acts. Barney
is a great stickler for reform in College, and does not
hesitate to attack the fellows of Eton (whom he denominates
black slugs), on holding pluralities, and keeping the good
things to themselves. As Barney's avocation compels him to
travel wide, he is never interrupted by water; for in summer
or winter he readily wades through the deepest places; he is
consequently a very efficient person in a sporting party.
34 George Williams, a well-known dog fancier, who also
teaches the art and science of pugilism.
35 Savager, a livery-stable keeper, who formerly used to
keep a good tandem or two for hire, but on the interference
of the head master, who interdicted such amusements as
dangerous, they have been put down in Eton.
~74~~
But's very shy of lending,
Since she put down her tandem _drag_,{36}
For fear of Keates offending.
But if you want to splash along
In glory with a _ginger_,{37}
Or in a Stanhope come it strong,
Try Isaac Clegg,{38} of Windsor.
If o'er old father Thames you'd glide,
And cut the silvery stream;
With Hester's{39} eight oars mock the tide,
He well deserves a _theme_.
There's Charley Miller, and George Hall,{40}
Can beasts and birds restore, sir;
And though they cannot bark or squall,
Look livelier than before, sir.
Handy Jack's {41} a general blade,
There's none like Garraway, sir;
Boats, ducks, or dogs, are all his trade,
He'll fit you to a say, sir.
36 DR A G, London slang for tilbury, dennet, Stanhope, &c.
37 A GINGER, a showy, fast horse.
38 Isaac Clegg is in great repute for his excellent turn
outs, and prime nags; and, living in Windsor, he is out of
the jurisdiction of the head master.
39 Hester's boats are always kept in excellent trim. At
Eton exercise on the water is much practised, and many of
the scholars are very expert watermen: they have recently
taken to boats of an amazing length, forty feet and upwards,
which, manned with eight oars, move with great celerity.
Every Saturday evening the scholars are permitted to assume
fancy dresses; but the practice is now principally confined
to the steersman; the rest simply adopting sailors' costume,
except on the fourth of June, or election Saturday, when
there is always a grand gala, a band of music, and
fireworks, on the island in the Thames.
40 Miller and Hall, two famous preservers of birds and
animals; an art in high repute among the Etonians.
41 A famous boatman, duck-hunter, dog-fighter; or,
according to the London phrase--good at everything.
~75~~
Tom New {42} in manly sports is old,
A tailor, and a trump, sir;
And _odd Fish Bill_,{43} at sight of gold,
Will steer clear of the bump,"{44} sir.
A list of _worthies_, learn'd and great
In every art and science,
That noble youths should emulate,
To set laws at defiance:
The church, the senate, and the bar,
By these in ethics grounded,
Must prove a meteoric star,
Of brilliancy compounded.
Ye lights of Eton, rising suns,
Of all that's great and godly;
The nation's hope, and dread of _duns_,
Let all your acts be _motley_.
Learn arts like these, ye oppidan,
If you'd astonish greatly
The senate, or the great divan,
With classics pure, and stately.
Give Greek and Latin to the wind,
Bid pedagogues defiance:
These are the rules to grace the mind
With the true gems of science.
42 Tom New, a great cricketer.
43 Bill Fish, a waterman who attends the youngest boys in
their excursions.
44 The BUMP, to run against each other in the race.
~76~~
APOLLO'S VISIT TO ETON.
~76~~ This whimsical production appeared originally in 1819, in an
Eton miscellany entitled the College Magazine; the poetry of which was
afterwards selected, and only fifty copies struck off: these have been
carefully suppressed, principally we believe on account of this article,
as it contains nothing that we conceive can be deemed offensive, and
has allusions to almost all the distinguished scholars of that period,
besides including the principal contributors to the Etonian, a recent
popular work: we have with some difficulty filled up the blanks with
real names; and, at the suggestion of several old Etonians, incorporated
it with the present work, as a fair criterion of the promising character
of the school at this particular period.
The practice of thus distinguishing the rising talents of Eton is
somewhat ancient. We have before us a copy of verses dated 1620, in
which Waller, the poet, and other celebrated characters of his time, are
particularised. At a still more recent period, during the mastership
of the celebrated Doctor Barnard, the present earl of Carlisle, whose
classical taste is universally admitted, distinguished himself not less
than his compeers, by some very elegant lines: those on the late Right
Hon. C. J. Fox we are induced to extract as a strong proof of the noble
earl's early penetration and foresight.
"How will my Fox, alone, by strength of parts.
Shake the loud senate, animate the hearts
Of fearful statesmen? while around you stand
Both Peers and Commons listening your command.
~77~~
While _Tully's_ sense its weight to you affords,
His nervous sweetness shall adorn your words.
What praise to Pitt,{1} to Townshend, e'er was due,
In future times, my Pox, shall wait on you."
At a subsequent period, the leading characters of the school were
spiritedly drawn in a periodical newspaper, called the World, then
edited by Major Topham, and the Rev. Mr. East, who is still, I believe,
living, and preaches occasionally at Whitehall. From that publication,
now very scarce, I have selected the following as the most amusing, and
relating to distinguished persons.
1 The great Earl of Chatham.
RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD ETONIAN.
The Lords Littleton--father and son, formed two opposite characters in
their times. The former had a distinguished turn for pastoral poetry,
and wrote some things at Eton with all the enthusiasm of early years,
and yet with all the judgment of advanced life. The latter showed there,
in some traits of disposition, what was to be expected from him; but he
too loved the Muses, and cultivated them.
He there too displayed the strange contraries of being an ardent admirer
of the virtues of classic times, while he was cheating at chuck and
all-fours; and though he affected every species of irreligion, was, in
fact, afraid of his own shadow.
The whole North Family have, in succession, adorned this school with
their talents--which in the different branches were various, but all
of mark and vivacity. To the younger part, Dampier was the tutor; who,
having a little disagreement with Frank North on the hundred steps
coming down from the terrace, at Windsor, they adjusted it, by Frank
North's rolling his tutor very quickly down the whole of them. The tutor
has since risen to some eminence in the church.
Lord Cholmondeley was early in life a boy of great parts, and they have
continued so ever since, though not lively ones. Earl of Buckingham
was a plain good scholar, but ~79~~ would have been better at any
other school, for he was no poet, and verse is here one of the first
requisites; besides, he had an impediment in his speech, which, in
the hurry of repeating a lesson before a number of boys, was always
increased. It was inculcated to him by his dame--that he must look upon
himself as the reverse of a woman in every thing, and not hold--that
whoever "_deliberates is lost_."
Lord Harrington was a boy of much natural spirit. In the great
rebellion, under _Forster_, when all the boys threw their books into the
Thames, and marched to Salt Hill, he was amongst the foremost. At that
place each took an oath, or rather swore, he would be d------d if ever
he returned to school again.
When, therefore, he came to London to the old Lord Harrington's, and
sent up his name, his father would only speak to him at the door,
insisting, at the same time, on his immediate return. "Sir," said the
son, "consider I shall be d--d if I do!" "And I" answered the father,
"will be d--d if you don't!"
"Yes, my lord," replied the son, "but you will be d--d together I do or
no!"
The Storers. Anthony and Tom, for West Indians, were better scholars
than usually fell to the share of those _children of the sun_, who were,
in general, too gay to be great. The name of the elder stands to this
day at the head of many good exercises; from which succeeding genius has
stolen, and been praised for it.
Tom had an odd capability of running round a room on the edge of the
wainscot, a strange power of holding by the foot: an art which, in lower
life, might have been serviceable to him in the showing it. And Anthony,
likewise, amongst better and more brilliant qualifications, had the
reputation of being amongst the best dancers of the age. In a political
line, perhaps, he did not _dance attendance_ to much purpose.
Harry Conway, brother to the present Marquis of ~80~~ Hertford,
though younger in point of learning, was older than his brother, Lord
Beauchamp; but he was not so forward as to show this preeminence: a
somewhat of modesty, a consciousness of being younger, always kept him
back from displaying it. In fact, they were perfectly unlike two Irish
boys--the Wades, who followed them, and who, because the younger was
taller, used to fight about which was the eldest.
Pepys. A name well known for Barnard's commendation of it, and for his
exercises in the _Musae Etonenses_. He was amongst the best poets that
Eton ever produced.
Kirkshaw, son to the late doctor, of Leeds, and since fellow of Trinity
College. When his father would have taken him away, he made a singular
request that he might stay a year longer, not wishing to be made a man
so early.
Many satiric Latin poems bear his name at Eton, and he continued that
turn afterwards at Cambridge. He was remarkable for a very large head;
but it should likewise be added, there was a good deal in it.
On this head, his father used to hold forth in the country. He was,
without a figure, the head of the school, and was afterwards in the
caput at the university.
Wyndham, under Barnard, distinguished himself very early as a scholar,
and for a logical acuteness, which does not often fall to the share of
a boy. He was distinguished too both by land and by water; for while
he was amongst the most informed of his time, in school hours, in the
playing fields, on the water, with the celebrated boatman, my guinea
piper at cricket, or in rowing, he was always the foremost. He used
to boast, that he should in time be as good a boxer as his father was,
though he used to add, that never could be exactly known, as he could
not decently have a _set-to_ with him.
~81~~ Fawkener, the major, was captain of the school; and in those days
was famed for the "_suaviter in modo_," and for a turn for gallantry
with the Windsor milliners, which he pursued up the hundred steps, and
over the terrace there. As this turn frequently made him overrun the
hours of absence, on his return he was found out, and flogged the next
morning; but this abated not his zeal in the cause of gallantry, as he
held it to be, like _Ovid_, whom he was always reading, suffering in a
fair cause.
Fawkener, Everard, minor, with the same turn for pleasure as his
brother, but more open and ingenuous in his manner, more unreserved in
his behaviour, then manifested, what he has since been, the bon vivant
of every society, and was then as since, the admired companion in every
party.
Prideaux was remarkable for being the gravest boy of his time, and for
having the longest chin. Had he followed the ancient "_Sapientem pascere
Barbam_," there would in fact have been no end of it. With this turn,
however, his time was not quite thrown away, nor his gravity. In
conjunction with Dampier, Langley, and Serjeant, who were styled the
learned Cons, he composed a very long English poem, in the same metre as
the Bath Guide, and of which it was then held a favour to get a copy. He
had so much of advanced life about him, that the masters always looked
upon him as a man; and this serious manner followed him through his
pastimes. He was fond of billiards; but he was so long in making
his stroke, that no boy could bear to play with him: when the game,
therefore, went against him, like Fabius-_Cunctando restituit rem_; and
they gave it up rather than beat him.
Hulse. Amongst the best tennis-players that Eton ever sent up to
Windsor, where he always was. As a poet he distinguished himself
greatly, by winning one of the medals given by Sir John Dalrymple. His
~82~~ exercise on this occasion was the subject of much praise to Doctor
Forster, then master, and of much envy to his contemporaries in the
sixth form, who said it was given to him because he was head boy.
These were his arts; besides which he had as many tricks as any boy ever
had. He had nothing when praepositer, and of course ruling under boys, of
dignity about him, or of what might enforce his authority. When he ought
to have been angry, some monkey trick always came across him, and he
would make a serious complaint against a little boy, in a hop, step, and
a jump.
Montague. Having a great predecessor before him under the appellation of
"_Mad Montague_" had always a consolatory comparison in this way in his
favor. In truth, at times he wanted it, for he was what has been termed
a genius: but he was likewise so in talent. He was an admirable poet,
and had a neatness of expression seldom discoverable at such early
years. In proof, may be brought a line from a Latin poem on Cricket:
"_Clavigeri fallit verbera--virga cadit_."
And another on scraping a man down at the _Robin Hood_:
"_Radit arenosam pes inimicus humum_."
The scratching of the foot on the sandy floor is admirable.
During a vacation, Lord Sandwich took him to Holland; and he sported on
his return a Dutch-built coat for many weeks. The boys used to call him
_Mynheer Montague_; but his common habit of oddity soon got the better
of his coat.
He rose to be a young man of great promise, as to abilities; and died
too immaturely for his fame.
Tickell, the elder. _Manu magis quam capite_ should have been his motto.
By natural instinct he loved ~83~~ fighting, and knew not what fear
was. He went amongst his school-fellows by the name of Hannibal, and Old
Tough. A brother school-fellow of his, no less a man than the Marquis of
Buckingham, met, and recognised him again in Ireland, and with the most
marked solicitude of friendship, did every thing but assist him, in
obtaining a troop of dragoons, which he had much at heart.
Tickell, minor, should then have had the eulogy of how much elder art
thou than thy years! In those early days his exercises, read publicly
in school, gave the anticipation of what time and advancing years have
brought forth. He was an admirable scholar, and a poet from nature;
forcible, neat, and discriminating. The fame of his grandsire, the
Tickell of Addison, was not hurt by the descent to him.
His sister, who was the beauty of Windsor castle, and the admiration
of all, early excited a passion in a boy then at school, who afterwards
married her. Of this sister he was very fond; but he was not less so
of another female at Windsor, a regard since terminated in a better way
with his present wife.
His pamphlet of _Anticipation_, it is said, placed him where he since
was, under the auspices of Lord North; but his abilities were of better
quality, and deserved a better situation for their employment.
Lord Plymouth, then Lord Windsor, had to boast some distinctions, which
kept him aloof from the boys of his time. He was of that inordinate size
that, like Falstaff, four square yards on even ground were so many miles
to him; and the struggles which he underwent to raise himself when
down might have been matter of instruction to a minority member. In the
entrance to his Dame's gate much circumspection was necessary; for, like
some good men out of power, he found it difficult to get in.
When in school, or otherwise, he was not undeserving of praise, either
as to temper or ~84~~ scholarship; and whether out of the excellence
of his Christianity, or that of good humour, he was not very adverse to
good living; and he continued so ever after.
Lord Leicester had the reputation of good scholarship, and not
undeservedly. In regard to poetry, however, he was sometimes apt
to break the eighth commandment, and prove lie read more the Musee
Etonenses than his prayer-book. Inheriting it from Lord Townshend, the
father of caricaturists, he there pursued, with nearly equal ability,
that turn for satiric drawing. The master, the tutors, slender Prior,
and fat Roberts,--all felt in rotation the effects of his pencil.
There too, as well as since, he had a most venerable affection for
heraldry, and the same love of collecting together old titles, and
obsolete mottos. Once in the military, he had, it may be said, a turn
for arms. In a zeal of this kind he once got over the natural mildness
of his temper, and was heard to exclaim--"There are two griffins in my
family that have been missing these three centuries, and by G-, I'll
have iliem back again!"-This passion was afterwards improved into so
perfect a knowledge, that in the creation of peers he was applied to,
that every due ceremonial might be observed; and he never failed in his
recollection on these antiquated subjects.
Tom Plummer gave then a specimen of that quickness and vivacity of parts
for which he was afterwards famed. But not as a scholar, not as a poet,
was he quick alone; he was quick too in the wrong ends of things, as
well as the right, with a plausible account to follow it.
In fact, he was born for the law; clear, discriminating, judicious,
alive, and with a noble impartiality to all sides of questions, and
which none could defend better. This goes, however, only to the powers
of his head; in those of the heart no one, and in the best ~85~~ and
tenderest qualities of it, ever stood better. He was liked universally,
and should be so; for no man was ever more meritorious for being good,
as he who had all the abilities which sometimes make a man otherwise.
In the progress of life mind changes often, and body almost always. Both
these rules, however, he lived to contradict; for his talents and his
qualities retained their virtue; and when a boy he was as tall as when a
man, and apparently the same.
Capel Loft. In the language of Eton the word gig comprehended all that
was ridiculous, all that was to be laughed at, and plagued to death; and
of all gigs that was, or ever will be, this gentleman, while a boy, was
the greatest.
He was like nothing, "in the heavens above, or the waters under the
earth;" and therefore he was surrounded by a mob of boys whenever he
appeared. These days of popularity were not pleasant. Luckily, however,
for himself, he found some refuge from persecution in his scholarship.
This scholarship was much above the rate, and out of the manner of
common boys.
As a poet, he possessed fluency and facility, but not the strongest
imagination. As a classic, he was admirable; and his prose themes upon
different subjects displayed an acquaintance with the Latin idiom and
phraseology seldom acquired even by scholastic life, and the practice of
later years. Beyond this, he read much of everything that appeared, knew
every thing, and was acquainted with every better publication of the
times.
Even then he studied law, politics, divinity; and could have written
well upon those subjects.
These talents have served him since more effectually than they did then;
more as man than boy:
For at school he was a kind of Gray Beard: he neither ran, played,
jumped, swam, or fought, as ~86~~ other boys do. The descriptions of
puerile years, so beautifully given by _Gray_, in his ode:
"Who, foremost, now delight to cleave,
With pliant arm, thy glassy wave?
The captive linnet which enthrall?
What idle progeny succeed,
To chase the rolling circle's speed,
Or urge the flying ball?"
All these would have been, and were, as non-descriptive of him as they
would have been of the lord chancellor of England, with a dark brow
and commanding mien, determining a cause of the first interest to this
country. Added to this, in personal appearance he was most unfavored;
and exemplified the Irish definition of an open countenance--a mouth from
ear to ear.
Lord Hinchinbroke, from the earliest period of infancy, had all the
marks of the Montagu family. He had a good head, and a red head, and
a Roman nose, and a turn to the _ars amatoria_ of Ovid, and all the
writers who may have written on love. As it was in the beginning--may be
said now.
Though in point of scholarship he was not in the very first line, the
descendant of Lord Sandwich could not but have ability, and he had it;
but this was so mixed with the wanderings of the heart, the vivacity of
youthful imagination, and a turn to pleasure, that a steady pursuit of
any one object of a literary turn could not be expected.
But it was his praise that he went far in a short time; sometimes too
far; for Barnard had to exercise himself, and his red right arm, as the
vengeful poet expresses it, very frequently on the latter end of his
lordship's excursions.
In one of these excursions to Windsor, he had the good or ill fortune to
engage in a little amorous amement with a young lady, the consequence
of ~87~~ which was an application to Lucina for assistance. Of this
doctor Barnard was informed, and though the remedy did not seem tending
towards a cure, he was brought up immediately to be flogged.
He bore this better than his master, who cried out, after some few
lashes--"Psha! what signifies my flogging him for being like his father?
What's bred in the bone will never get out of the flesh."
Gibbs. Some men are overtaken by the law, and some few overtake it
themselves. In this small, but happy number, may be placed the name
in question; and a name of better promise, whether of man or boy, can
scarcely be found any where.
At school he was on the foundation; and though amongst the Collegers,
where the views of future life, and hope of better days, arising from
their own industry, make learning a necessity, yet to that he added the
better qualities of genius and talent.
As a classical scholar, he was admirable in both languages. As a poet,
he was natural, ready, and yet distinguished. Amongst the best exercises
of the time, his were to be reckoned, and are yet remembered with
praise. For the medals given by Sir John Dalrymple for the best Latin
poem, he was a candidate; but though his production was publicly read
by doctor Forster, and well spoken of, he was obliged to give way to the
superiority of another on that occasion.
Describing the winding of the Thames through its banks, it had this
beautiful line:
"_Rodit arundineas facili sinuamine ripas------_"
Perfect as to the picture, and beautiful as to the flowing of the
poetry.
He had the good fortune and the good temper to be liked by every body of
his own age; and he was not enough found out of bounds, or trespassing
against "sacred order," to be disliked by those of greater age who were
set over him.
~88~~ After passing through all the different forms at Eton, he was
removed to Cambridge; where he distinguished himself not less than at
school in trials for different literary honors.
There he became assistant tutor to Sir Peter Burrell, who then listened
to his instructions, and has not since forgotten them.
As a tutor, he was somewhat young; but the suavity of his manners took
away the comparison of equality; and his real knowledge rendered him
capable of instructing those who might be even older than himself.
[Illustration: page088]
APOLLO'S VISIT TO ETON.{1}
T'other night, as Apollo was quaffing a gill
With his pupils, the Muses, from Helicon's rill,
(For all circles of rank in Parnassus agree
In preferring cold water to coffee or tea)
The discourse turned as usual on critical matters,
And the last stirring news from the kingdom of letters.
But when poets, and critics, and wits, and what not,
From Jeffery and Byron, to Stoddart and Stott,{2}
Had received their due portion of consideration,
Cried Apollo, "Pray, ladies, how goes education?
For I own my poor brain's been so muddled of late,
In transacting the greater affairs of the state;
And so long every day in the courts I've been stewing,
I've had no time to think what the children were doing.
There's my favorite Byron my presence inviting,
And Milman, and Coleridge, and Moore, have been writing;
And my ears at this moment confoundedly tingle,
From the squabbling of Blackwood with Cleghorn and Pringle:
But as all their disputes seem at length at an end,
And the poets my levee have ceased to attend;
Since the weather's improving, and lengthen'd the days,
For a visit to Eton I'll order my chaise:
1 This poem, the reader will perceive, is an humble
imitation of Leigh Hunt's "Feast of the Poets;" and the
lines distinguished by asterisks are borrowed or altered
from the original.
2 A writer in "The Morning Post," mentioned by Lord Byron,
in his "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers."
~90~~
There's my sister Diana my day coach to drive,
And I'll send the new Canto to keep you alive.
So my business all settled, and absence supply'd,
For an earthly excursion to-morrow I'll ride."
Thus spoke king Apollo; the Muses assented;
And the god went to bed most bepraised and contented.
'Twas on Saturday morning, near half past eleven,
When a god, like a devil,4 came driving from heaven,
And with postboys, and footmen, and liveries blazing,
Soon set half the country a gaping and gazing.
When the carriage drove into the Christopher yard,
How the waiters all bustled, and Garraway stared;
And the hostlers and boot-catchers wonder'd, and swore
"They'd ne'er seen such a start in their lifetime before!"
I could tell how, as soon as his chariot drew nigh,
Every cloud disappear'd from the face of the sky;
And the birds in the hedges more tunefully sung,
And the bells in St. George's spontaneously rung;
And the people, all seized with divine inspiration,
Couldn't talk without rhyming and versification.
But such matters, though vastly important, I ween,
Are too long for the limits of your magazine.
Now it soon got abroad that Apollo was come,
And intended to be, for that evening, "at home;"
And that cards would be issued, and tickets be given,
To all scholars and wits, for a dinner at seven.
So he'd scarcely sat clown, when a legion came pouring
Of would-be-thought scholars, his favor imploring.
First, Buller stept in, with a lengthy oration
About "scandalous usage," and "hard situation:"
And such treatment as never, since Eton was started,
~91~~
Had been shown to a genius, like him, "broken-hearted."
He'd " no doubt but his friends in Parnassus must know
How his fine declamation was laugh'd at below;
And how Keate, like a blockhead ungifted with brains,
Had neglected to grant him a prize for his pains.
He was sure, if such conduct continued much longer,
The school must grow weaker, and indolence stronger;
That the rights of sixth form would be laid in the dust,
And the school after that, he thought, tumble it must.
But he knew that Apollo was learned and wise,
And he hoped that his godship would give him a prize;
Or, at least, to make up for his mortification,
Would invite him to dinner without hesitation."
Now Apollo, it seems, had some little pretence
To a trifling proportion of wisdom and sense:
So without ever asking the spark to be seated,
He thus cut short his hopes, and his projects defeated.
"After all, Mr. Buller, you've deign'd to repeat,
I'm afraid that you'll think me as stupid as Keate:
But to wave all disputes on your talents and knowledge,
Pray what have you done as the captain of college?
Have you patronized learning, or sapping commended?
Have you e'er to your fags, or their studies, attended?
To the school have you given of merit a sample,
And directed by precept, or led by example?"
*****
What Apollo said more I'm forbidden to say,
But Buller dined not at his table that day.
Next, a smart little gentleman march'd with a stare up,
A smoothing his neckcloth, and patting his hair up;
And with bows and grimaces quadrillers might follow,
Said, " he own'd that his face was unknown to Apollo;
~92~~
But he held in hand what must be his apology,
A short treatise he'd written on _British Geology_;
And this journal, he hoped, of his studies last week,
In philosophy, chemistry, logic, and Greek,
Might appear on perusal: but not to go far
In proclaiming his merits--his name was Tom Carr:
And for proofs of his talents, deserts, and what not,
He appeal'd to Miss Baillie, Lord Byron, and Scott."
Here his speech was cut short by a hubbub below,
And in walk'd Messrs. Maturin, Cookesly, and Co.,
And begg'd leave to present to his majesty's finger--
If he'd please to accept--No. 5 of the Linger.{5}
Mr. Maturin "hoped he the columns would view
With unprejudiced judgment, and give them their due,
Nor believe all the lies, which perhaps he had seen,
In that vile publication, that base magazine,{6}
Which had dared to impeach his most chaste lucubrations,
Of obscenity, nonsense, and such accusations.
Nay, that impudent work had asserted downright,
That chalk differ'd from cheese, and that black wasn't white;
But he hoped he might meet with his majesty's favor;"
And thus, hemming and hawing, he closed his palaver.
Now the god condescended to look at the papers,
But the first word he found in them gave him the vapours:
For the eyes of Apollo, ye gods! 'twas a word
Quite unfit to be written, and more to be heard;
'Twas a word which a bargeman would tremble to utter,
And it put his poor majesty all in a flutter;
But collecting his courage, his laurels he shook,
And around on the company cast such a look,
That e'en Turin and Dumpling slank off to the door,
And the Lion was far too much frighten'd to roar;
5 An Eton periodical of the time.
6 The College Magazine.
~93~~
While poor Carr was attack'd with such qualms at the breast,
That he took up his journal, and fled with the rest.
When the tumult subsided, and peace 'gan to follow,
Goddard enter'd the room, with three cards for Apollo,
And some papers which, hardly five minutes before,
Three respectable gownsmen had left at the door.
With a smile of good humour the god look'd at each,
For he found that they came from Blunt, Chapman, and Neech.{7}
Blunt sent him a treatise of science profound,
Showing how rotten eggs were distinguish'd from sound;
Some "Remarks on Debates," and some long-winded stories,
Of society Whigs, and society Tories;
And six sheets and a half of a sage dissertation,
On the present most wicked and dull generation.
From Chapman came lectures on Monk, and on piety;
On Simeon, and learning, and plays, and sobriety;
With most clear illustrations, and critical notes,
On his own right exclusive of canvassing votes.
From Neech came a medley of prose and of rhyme,
Satires, epigrams, sonnets, and sermons sublime;
But he'd chosen all customs and rules to reverse,
For his satires were prose, and las sermons were verse.
Phoebus look'd at the papers, commended all three,
And sent word he'd be happy to see them to tea.
The affairs of the morning thus happily o'er,
Phoebus pull'd from his pocket twelve tickets or more,
Which the waiters were ordered forthwith to disperse
'Mongst the most approved scribblers in prose and in verse:
'Mongst the gentlemen honor'd with cards, let me see,
There was Howard, and Coleridge, and Wood, and Lavie,
The society's props; Curzon, major and minor,
7 Principal contributors to the Etonian.
~94~~
Bowen, Hennicker, Webbe, were invited to dinner:
The theologist Buxton, and Petit, were seen,
And philosopher Jenyns, and Donald Maclean;
Bulteel too, and Dykes; but it happen'd (oh shame!)
That, though many were ask'd, very few of them came.
As for Coleridge, he "knew not what right Phobus had,
d--n me, To set up for a judge in a christian academy;
And he'd not condescend to submit his Latinity,
Nor his verses, nor Greek, to a heathen divinity.
For his part, he should think his advice an affront,
Full as bad as the libels of Chapman and Blunt.
He'd no doubt but his dinner might be very good,
But he'd not go and taste it--be d--d if he would."
Dean fear'd that his pupils their minds should defile,
And Maclean was engaged to the duke of Argyll;
In a deep fit of lethargy Petit had sunk,
And theologist Buxton with _Bishop_ was drunk;
Bulteel too, and Dykes, much against their own will,
Had been both pre-engaged to a party to mill;
And philosopher Jenyns was bent on his knees,
To electrify spiders, and galvanize fleas.
But the rest all accepted the god's invitation,
And made haste to prepare for this jollification.
Now the dinner was handsome as dinner could be,
But to tell every dish is too tedious for me;
Such a task, at the best, would be irksome and long,
And, besides, I must haste to the end of my song.
'Tis enough to relate that, the better to dine,
Jove sent them some nectar, and Bacchus some wine.
From Minerva came olives to crown the dessert,
And from Helicon water was sent most alert,
Of which Howard, 'tis said, drank so long and so deep,
That he almost fell into poetical sleep.{8}
When the cloth was removed, and the bottle went round,
"Nec fonte labra prolui C'aballino,
Nec in bicipiti sommasse Parnasso."
Persius.
~95~~
Wit, glee, and good humour, began to abound,
Though Lord Chesterfield would not have call'd them polite,
For they all often burst into laughter outright.
*****
But swift flew the moments of rapture and glee,
And too early, alas! they were summon'd to tea.
With looks most demure, each prepared with a speech,
At the table were seated Blunt, Chapman, and Neech.
Phobus stopt their orations, with dignity free,
And with easy politeness shook hands with all three;
And the party proceeded, increased to a host,
To discuss bread and butter, tea, coffee, and toast.
As their numbers grew larger, more loud grew their mirth,
And Apollo from heav'n drew its raptures to earth:
With divine inspiration he kindled each mind,
Till their wit, like their sugar, grew double refined;
And an evening, enliven'd by conviviality,
Proved how much they were pleased by the god's hospitality.
Thalia.{9}
9 This poem is attributed to J. Moultrie, Esq. of Trinity
college, Cambridge.
[Illustration: page095]
[Illustration: page093]
ETON MONTEM.
Stand by, old Cant, while I admire
The young and gay, with souls of fire,
Unloose the cheerful heart.
Hence with thy puritanic zeal;
True virtue is to grant and feel--
A bliss thou'lt ne'er impart.
I love thee, Montem,--love thee, by all the brightest recollections
of my youth, for the inspiring pleasures which thy triennial pageant
revives in my heart: joined with thy merry throng, I can forget the
cares and disappointments of the world; and, tripping gaily with the
light-hearted, youthful band, cast off the gloom of envy and of worldly
pursuit, reassociating myself with the joyous scenes of my boyhood. Nay,
more, I hold thee in higher veneration than ever did antiquarian worship
the relics of _virtu_.
[Illustration: page094]
~97~~
Destruction light upon the impious hand that would abridge thy ancient
charter;--be all thy children, father Etona, doubly-armed to defend
thy ancient honors;--let no modern Goth presume to violate thy sacred
rights; but to the end of time may future generations retain the spirit
of thy present race; and often as the happy period comes, new pleasures
wait upon the Eton Montem.{1}
1 The ancient custom, celebrated at Eton every third year,
on Whit-Tuesday, and which bears the title of The Montem,
appears to have defied antiquarian research, as far as
relates to its original institution. It consiste of a
procession to a small tumulus on the southern side of the
Bath road, which has given the name of Salt-Hill to the
spot, now better known by the splendid inns that are
established there. The chief object of this celebration,
however, is to collect money for salt, according to the
language of the day, from all persons who assemble to see
the show, nor does it fail to be exacted from travellers on
the road, and even at the private residences within a
certain, but no inconsiderable, range of the spot. The
scholars appointed to collect the money are called _salt-
bearers_; they are arrayed in fancy dresses, and are
attended by others called scouts, of a similar, but less
showy appearance. Tickets are given to such persons as have
paid their contributions, to secure them from any further
demand. This ceremony is always very numerously attended by
Etonians, and has frequently been honored with the presence
of his late Majesty, and the different branches of the Royal
Family. The sum collected on the occasion has sometimes
exceeded 800L., and is given to the senior scholar, who is
called Captain of the School. This procession appears to be
coeval with the foundation; and it is the opinion of Mr.
Lysons, that it was a ceremonial of the Bairn, or Boy-
Bishop. He states, that it originally took place on the 6th
of December, the festival of St. Nicholas, the patron of
children; being the day on which it was customary at
Salisbury, and in other places where the ceremony was
observed, to elect the Boy-Bishop from among the children
belonging to the cathedral. This mock dignity lasted till
Innocents' day; and, during the intermediate time, the boy
performed various episcopal functions. If it happened that
he died before the allotted period of this extraordinary
mummery had expired, he was buried with all the ceremonials
which were used at the funerals of prelates. In the
voluminous collections relating to antiquities, bequeathed
by Mr. Cole, who was himself of Eton and King's colleges, to
the British Museum, is a note which
~98~~
mentions that the ceremony of the Bairn or Boy-Bishop was to
be observed by charter, and that Geoffry Blythe, Bishop of
Lichfield, who died in 1530, bequeathed several ornaments
to those colleges, for the dress of the bairn-bishop. But on
what authority this industrious antiquary gives the
information, which, if correct, would put an end to all
doubt on the subject, does not appear. But, after all, why
may not this custom be supposed to have originated in a
procession to perform an annual mass at the altar of some
saint, to whom a small chapel might have been dedicated on
the mount called Salt-Hill; a ceremony very common in
Catholic countries, as such an altar is a frequent appendage
to their towns and populous villages? As for the selling of
salt, it may be considered as a natural accompaniment, when
its emblematical character, as to its use in the ceremonies
of the Roman Church, is contemplated. Till the time of
Doctor Barnard, the procession of the Montem was every two
years, and on the first or second Tuesday in February. It
consisted of something of a military array. The boys in the
remove, fourth, and inferior forms, marched in a long file
of two and two, with white poles in their hands, while the
sixth and fifth form boys walked on their flanks as
officers, and habited in all the variety of dress, each of
them having a boy of the inferior forms, smartly equipped,
attending on him as a footman. The second boy in the school
led the procession in a military dress, with a truncheon in
his hand, and bore for the day the title of Marshal: then
followed the Captain, supported by his Chaplain, the head
scholar of the fifth form, dressed in a suit of black, with
a large bushy wig, and a broad beaver decorated with a
twisted silk hatband and rose, the fashionable distinction
of the dignified clergy of that day. It was his office to
read certain Latin prayers on the mount at Salt-Hill The
third boy of the school brought up the rear as Lieutenant.
One of the higher classes, whose qualification was his
activity, was chosen Ensign, and carried the colours, which
were emblazoned with the college arms, and the motto, _Pro
mort el monte_. This flag, before the procession left the
college, he flourished in the school-yard with all the
dexterity displayed at Astley's and places of similar
exhibition. The same ceremony was repeated after prayers, on
the mount. The regiment dined in the inns at Salt-Hill, and
then returned to the college; and its dismission in the
school-yard was announced by the universal drawing of all
the swords. Those who bore the title of commissioned
officers were exclusively on the foundation, and carried
spontoons; the rest were considered as Serjeants and
corporals, and a most curious assemblage of figures they
exhibited. The two principal salt-bearers consisted of an
oppidan and a colleger: the former was generally some
nobleman, whose figure and personal connexions might advance
the interests of the collections. They were dressed like
running footmen, and carried, each of them, a silk bag to
receive the contributions, in which was a small quantity of
salt. During Doctor Barnard's mastership, the ceremony was
made triennial, the time changed from February to Whit-
Tuesday, and several of its absurdities retrenched. An
ancient and savage custom of hunting a ram by the foundation
scholars, on Saturday in the election week, was abolished in
the earlier part of the last century. The curious twisted
clubs with which these collegiate hunters were armed on the
occasion are still to be seen in antiquarian collections.
~99~~
What coronation, tournament, or courtly pageant, can outshine thy
splendid innocence and delightful gaiety? what regal banquet yields half
the pure enjoyment the sons of old Etona experience, when, after
months of busy preparation, the happy morn arrives ushered in with the
inspiring notes of "_Auld lang syne_" from the well-chosen band in the
college breakfast-room? Then, too, the crowds of admiring spectators,
the angel host of captivating beauties with their starry orbs of light,
and luxuriant tresses, curling in playful elegance around a face
beaming with divinity, or falling in admired negligence over bosoms of
alabastrine whiteness and unspotted purity within! Grey-bearded wisdom
and the peerless great, the stars of honor in the field and state,
the pulpit and the bar, send forth their brightest ornaments to grace
Etona's holiday. Oxford and Cambridge, too, lend their classic aid,
and many a grateful son of _Alma Mater_ returns to acknowledge his
obligations to his early tutors and swell the number of the mirthful
host. Here may be seen, concentrated in the quadrangle, the costume of
every nation, in all the gay variety that fancy can devise: the Persian
spangled robe, and the embroidered Greek vest; the graceful Spanish, and
the picturesque Italian, the Roman toga and the tunic, and the rich old
English suit. Pages in red frocks, and marshals in their satin 100~~
doublets; white wands and splendid turbans, plumes, and velvet hats,
all hastening with a ready zeal to obey the call of the muster-roll. The
captain with his retinue retires to pay his court to the provost; while,
in the doctor's study, may be seen, gathered around the dignitary, a few
of those great names who honor Eton and owe their honor to her classic
tutors. Twelve o'clock strikes, and the procession is now marshalled in
the quadrangle in sight of the privileged circle, princes, dukes, peers,
and doctors with their ladies. Here does the ensign first display his
skill in public, and the Montem banner is flourished in horizontal
revolutions about the head and waist with every grace of elegance and
ease which the result of three months' practice and no little strength
can accomplish.
Twelve o'clock strikes, and the procession moves forward to the playing
fields on its route to Salt-Hill. Now look the venerable spires and
antique towers of Eton like to some chieftain's baronial castle in the
feudal times, and the proud captain represents the hero marching forth
at the head of his parti-coloured vassals!
The gallant display of rank and fashion and beauty follow in their
splendid equipages by slow progressive movement, like the delightful
lingering, inch by inch approach to St. James's palace on a full
court-day. The place itself is calculated to impress the mind with
sentiments of veneration and of heart-moving reminiscences; seated in
the bosom of one of the richest landscapes in the kingdom, where on
the height majestic Windsor lifts its royal brow; calmly magnificent,
over-looking, from his round tower, the surrounding country, and waving
his kingly banner in the air: 'tis the high court of English chivalry,
the birth-place, the residence, and the mausoleum of her kings, and
"i' the olden time," the prison of her captured monarchs. "At once, the
sovereign's and ~101~~ the muses' seat," rich beyond almost any
other district in palaces, and fanes, and villas, in all the "pomp of
patriarchal forests," and gently-swelling hills, and noble streams, and
waving harvests; there Denham wrote, and Pope breathed the soft note of
pastoral inspiration; and there too the immortal bard of Avon chose
the scene in which to wind the snares of love around his fat-encumbered
knight. Who can visit the spot without thinking of Datchet mead and the
buck-basket of sweet Anne Page and Master Slender, and mine host of the
Garter, and all the rest of that merry, intriguing crew? And now having
reached the foot of the mount and old druidical barrow, the flag is
again waved amid the cheers of the surrounding thousands who line its
sides, and in their carriages environ its ancient base.{2} Now the
salt-bearers and the pages bank their collections in one common stock,
and the juvenile band partake of the captain's banquet, and drink
success to his future prospects in Botham's port. Then, too, old
Herbertus Stockhore--he must not be forgotten; I have already introduced
him to your notice in p. 59, and my friend Bob Transit has illustrated
the sketch with his portrait; yet here he demands notice in his official
character, and perhaps I cannot do better than quote the humorous
account given of him by the elegant pen of an old Etonian {3}
"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.
[Illustration: page105]
~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."
[Illustration: page107]
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.
[Illustration: page109]
[Illustration: page111]
~112~~
"Men are my subject, and not fictions vain;
Oxford my chaunt, and satire is my strain."
[Illustration: page112]
FIVE CHARACTERISTIC ORDERS OF OXFORD.
[Illustration: page113]
~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~~
[Illustration: page128]
[Illustration: page129]
~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."
[Illustration: page131]
~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.
[Illustration: page136]
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.
[Illustration: page149]
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.
[Illustration: page151]
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}
[Illustration: page153]
~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."
31 Prick bills--at Christ Church, junior students who prick
with a pin the names of those gentlemen who are at chapel.
Immediately after the service, the bills, with the noblemen
and gentlemen commoners' names, are taken to the dean; those
with the students and commoners' names, to the acting censor
for the week; and the bachelors' bills to the sub-dean, who
generally inform the prick bills what impositions shall be
set those gentlemen who absented themselves from chapel:
these are written upon strips of paper and carried to the
gentlemen by the prick bill's scouts.
Copy of an original imposition.
"Sp 259 particular M M C. P. B."--Signifies translate No. 259
Spectator to the word "particular" by Monday morning at
chapel time.--Prick bill.
[Illustration: page156]
[Illustration: page157]
THE EXCURSION TO BAGLEY WOOD.
Oxford Scholars and Oxford Livery Men--How to insure a good
Horse and prevent Accidents--Description of Bagley Wood--A
Freshman breaking cover--Interview with the Egyptian--
Secrets of Futurity unveiled--Abingdon Beauties--Singular
Anecdote and History of Mother Goose.
~157~~
The ride to Bagley Wood introduced me to some new features of a college
life, not the least entertaining of which was the dialogue before
starting between my friend Eglantine, the livery-stable keeper, and his
man, where we went to engage the horses.
Eglan. (to the ostler) Well, Dick, what sort of a stud, hey? any thing
rum, a ginger or a miller, three legs or five, got by Whirlwind out of
Skyscraper? Come, fig out two lively ones.
Dick. I mun see measter first, zur, before I lets any gentleman take a
nag out o' yard. It's more as my place is worth to act otherwise.
Eglan. What coming Tip-street over us, hey, Dick? ~158~~ _frisking
the freshman_ here, old fellow? (pointing to me). It won't do--no go,
Dick--he's my friend, a _cawker_ to be sure, but must not _stand Sam_ to
an _Oxford raff_, or a Yorkshire _Johnny Raw_.
Dick. I axes pardon, zur. I didna mean any such thing, but ever since
you rode the grey tit last, she's never been out o' stall.
Eglan. Not surprised at that, Dick. Never crossed a greater slug in my
life--She's only fit to carry a dean or a bishop--No go in her.
Dick. No, zur, measter zays as how you took it all out on her.
Eglan. Why, I did give her a winder, Dick, to be sure, only one day's
hunting, though, a good hard run over Somerset range, not above sixty
miles out and home.
Dick. Ay, I thought as how you'd been in some break-neck tumble-down
country, zur, for Tit's knuckels showed she'd had a somerset or two.
Eglan. Well, blister the mare, Dick! there's _half a bull_ for your
trouble: now put us on the right scent for a good one: any thing young
and fresh, sprightly and shewy?
Dick. Why, there be such a one to be zure, zur, but you munna split on
me, or I shall get the zack for telling on ye. If you'll sken yon stable
at end o' the yard, there be two prime tits just com'd in from Abingdon
fair, thorough-bred and devils to go, but measter won't let 'em out.
Eglan. Won't he? here he comes, and we'll try what a little persuasion
will do. (Enter Livery Man.) Well, old fellow, I've brought you a new
friend, Blackmantle of Brazennose: what sort of _praxis_ can you give us
for a trot to Bagley Wood, a short ride for something shewy to _lionise_
a bit?
Livery M. Nothing new, sir, and you know all the stud pretty well
(knowingly). Suppose you try the grey mare you rode t'other day, and
I'll find a quiet one for your friend.
~159~~ Eglan. If I do, I am a _black horse_. She's no paces, nothing
_but a shuffle_, not a _leg to stand on_.
Livery M. Every one as good as the principal of All-Souls. Not a better
bred thing in Oxford, and all horses here gallop by instinct, as every
body knows, but they can't go for ever, and when gentlemen ride steeple
chases of sixty miles or more right a-head, they ought to find their own
horse-flesh.
Eglan. What coming _crabb_ over us, old fellow, hey 1 Very well, I shall
bolt and try Randall, and that's all about it. Come along, Blackmantle.
My friend's threat of withdrawing his patronage had immediately the
desired effect. Horace's judgment in horse-flesh was universally
admitted, and the knowing dealer, although he had suffered in one
instance by hard riding, yet deeply calculated on retrieving his loss by
some unsuspecting Freshman, or other university Nimrod in the circle
of Eglantine's acquaintance. By this time Echo had arrived, and we were
soon mounted on the two fresh purchases which the honest Yorkshireman
had so disinterestedly pointed out; and which, to do him justice,
deserved the eulogium he had given us on their merits. One circumstance
must not however be forgotten, which was the following notice posted
at the end of the yard. "To prevent accidents, gentlemen pay _before
mounting_." "How the deuce can this practice of paying beforehand
prevent accidents?" said I. "You're fresh, old fellow," said Echo, "or
you'd understand after a man breaks his neck he fears no duns. Now you
know by accident what old Humanity there means."
Bagley is about two miles and a half from Oxford on the Abingdon road,
an exceedingly pleasant ride, leaving the sacred city and passing over
the old bridge where formerly was situated the study or observatory of
the celebrated Friar Bacon. Not an object in the shape of a petticoat
escaped some raillery, and scarcely 160~~ a town _raff_ but what met
with a corresponding display of university wit, and called forth many a
cutting joke: the place itself is an extensive wood on the summit of
a hill, which commands a glorious panoramic view of Oxford and the
surrounding country richly diversified in hill and dale, and sacred
spires shooting their varied forms on high above the domes, and
minarets, and towers of Rhedycina. This spot, the favourite haunt of
the Oxonians, is covered for many miles with the most luxuriant foliage,
affording the cool retreat, the love embowered shades, over which
Prudence spreads the friendly veil. Here many an amorous couple have in
softest dalliance met, and sighed, and frolicked, free from suspicion's
eye beneath the broad umbrageous canopy of Nature; here too is the
favourite retreat of the devotees of Cypriani, the spicy grove of
assignations where the velvet sleeves of the Proctor never shake with
terror in the wind, and the savage form of the university _bull dog_ is
unknown.
A party of wandering English Arabs had pitched their tents on the
brow of the hill just under the first cluster of trees, and materially
increased the romantic appearance of the scene. The group consisted of
men, women, and children, a tilted cart with two or three asses, and a
lurcher who announced our approach. My companions were, I soon found,
well known to the females, who familiarly approached our party, while
the male animals as condescendingly betook themselves into the recesses
of the wood. "Black Nan," said Echo, "and her daughter, the gypsy
beauty, the Bagley brunette."--"Shall I tell your honour's fortune?"
said the elder of the two, approaching me; while Eglantine, who had
already dismounted and given his horse to one of the brown urchins
of the party, had encircled the waist of the younger sibyl, and was
tickling her into a trot in an opposite direction. "Ay do, Nan," ~161~~
said Echo, "cast his nativity, open the book of fate, and tell the boy
his future destiny." It would be the height of absurdity to repeat
half the nonsense this oracle of Bagley uttered relative to my future
fortunes; but with the cunning peculiar to her cast, she discovered I
was fresh, and what tormented me more, (although on her part it was
no doubt accidental) alluded to an amour in which my heart was much
interested with a little divinity in the neighbourhood of Eton. This
hint was sufficient to give Tom his cue, and I was doomed to be pestered
for the remainder of the day with questions and raillery on my progress
in the court of Love. On our quitting the old gypsy woman, a pair of
buxom damsels came in sight, advancing from the Abingdon road; they
were no doubt like ourselves, I thought, come to consult the oracle of
Bagley, or, perhaps, were the daughters of some respectable farmer
who owned the adjoining land. All these doubts were, however, of short
duration; for Tom Echo no sooner caught sight of their faces, than away
he bounded towards them like a young colt in all the frolic of untamed
playfulness, and before I could reach him, one of the ladies was rolling
on the green carpet of luxuriant Nature. In the deep bosom of Bagley
Wood, impervious to the eye of authority, many a sportive scene occurs
which would alarm the ethics of the solemn sages of the cloistered
college. They were, I discovered, sisters, too early abandoned by
an unfeeling parent to poverty, and thus became an easy prey to the
licentious and the giddy, who, in the pursuit of pleasure, never
contemplate the attendant misery which is sure to follow the victim
of seduction. There was something romantic in their story: they were
daughters of the celebrated Mother Goose, whose person must have been
familiar to every Oxonian for the last sixty years prior to her decease,
which occurred but a short time since Of ~162~~ this woman's history
I have since gleaned some curious particulars, the most remarkable of
which (contained in the annexed note) have been authenticated by living
witnesses.{1} Her portrait, by a member of All Souls, is admirable, and
is here faithfully copied.
[Illustration: page162]
1 "_Mother Goose_," formerly a procuress, and one of the
most abandoned of her profession. When from her advanced
age, and the loss of her eye-sight, she could no longer
obtain money by seducing females from the path of virtue,
she married a man of the name of H., (commonly called
Gentleman H.) and for years was led by him to the students'
apartments in the different colleges with baskets of the
choicest flowers. Her ancient, clean, and neat appearance,
her singular address, and, above all, the circumstance of
her being blind, never failed of procuring her at least ten
times the price of her posy, and which was frequently
doubled when she informed the young gentlemen of the
generosity, benevolence, and charity of their grandfathers,
fathers, or uncles whom she knew when they were at college.
She had several illegitimate children, all females, and all
were sacrificed by their unnatural mother, except one, who
was taken away from her at a very tender age by the child's
father's parents. When of age, this child inherited her
father's property, and is now (I believe) the wife of an
Irish nobleman, and to this time is unconscious that Mother
Goose, of Oxford, gave her birth. The person who was
instrumental in removing the child is still living in
Oxford, and will testify to the authenticity of the fact
here related. His present majesty never passed through
Oxford without presenting Mother Goose with a donation, but
of course without knowing her early history.
~163~~
Having, as Echo expressed it, now broke cover, and being advanced one
step in the study of the fathers, we prepared to quit the Abingdon fair
and rural shades of Bagley on our return to Oxford, something lighter in
pocket, and a little too in morality. We raced the whole of the distance
home, to the great peril of several groups of town raff whom we passed
in our way. On our arrival my friends had each certain lectures to
attend, or college duties to perform. An idle Freshman, there was
yet three hours good before the invitation to the spread, and as kind
fortune willed it to amuse the time, a packet arrived from Horatio
Heartley. He had been spending the winter in town with his aunt, Lady
Mary Oldstyle, and had, with his usual tact, been sketching the varied
groups which form the circle of fashionable life. It was part of the
agreement between us, when leaving each other at Eton, that we should
thus communicate the characteristic traits of the society we were about
to amalgamate with. He has, in the phraseology of the day, just come
out, and certainly appears to have made the best use of his time.
KENSINGTON GARDENS--SUNDAY EVENING.
Singularities of 1824.
[Illustration: page164]
~164~~
WESTERN ENTRANCE INTO THE METROPOLIS;
A DESCRIPTIVE SKETCH.
General Views of the Author relative to Subject and Style--
Time and Place--Perspective Glimpse of the great City--The
Approach--Cockney Salutations--The Toll House--Western
Entrance to Cockney Land--Hyde Park--Sunday Noon--
Sketches of Character, Costume, and Scenery--The Ride and
Drive--Kensington Gardens--Belles and Beaux--Stars and
Fallen Stars--Singularities of 1824--Tales of Ton--On Dits
and Anecdotes--Sunday Evening--High Life and Low Life, the
Contrast--Cockney Goths--Notes, Biographical, Amorous, and
Exquisite.
[Illustration: page165]
Its wealth and fashion, wit and folly,
Pleasures, whims, and melancholy:
Of all the charming belles and beaux
Who line the parks, in double rows;
Of princes, peers, their equipage,
The splendour of the present age;
Of west-end fops, and crusty cits,
Who drive their gigs, or sport their tits;
With all the groups we mean to dash on
Who form the busy world of fashion:
Proceeding onwards to the city,
With sketches, humorous and witty.
The man of business, and the Change,
Will come within our satire's range:
Nor rank, nor order, nor condition,
Imperial, lowly, or patrician,
Shall, when they see this volume, cry--
"The satirist has pass'd us by,"
But with good humour view our page
Depict the manners of the age.
Our style shall, like our subject, be
Distinguished by variety;
Familiar, brief we could say too--
(It shall be whimsical and new),
But reader that we leave to you.
'Twas morn, the genial sun of May
O'er nature spread a cheerful ray,
When Cockney Land, clothed in her best,
We saw, approaching from the west,
And 'mid her steeples straight and tall
Espied the dome of famed St. Paul,
Surrounded with a cloud of smoke
From many a kitchen chimney broke;
A nuisance since consumed below
By bill of Michael Angelo.{1}
The coach o'er stones was heard to rattle,
1 M. A. Taylor's act for compelling all large factories,
which have steam and other apparatus, to consume their own
smoke.
~166~~
The guard his bugle tuned for battle,
The horses snorted with delight,
As Piccadilly came in sight.
On either side the road was lined
With vehicles of ev'ry kind,
And as the rapid wheel went round,
There seem'd scarce room to clear the ground.
"Gate-gate-push on--how do--well met--
Pull up--my tits are on the fret--
The number--lost it--tip then straight,
That covey vants to bilk the gate."
The toll-house welcome this to town.
Your prime, flash, bang up, fly, or down,
A tidy team of prads,--your castor's
Quite a Joliffe tile,--my master.
Thus buck and coachee greet each other,
And seem familiar as a brother.
No Chinese wall, or rude barrier,
Obstructs the view, or entrance here;
Nor fee or passport,--save the warder,
Who draws to keep the roads in order;
No questions ask'd, but all that please
May pass and repass at their ease.
In cockney land, the seventh day
Is famous for a grand display
Of modes, of finery, and dress,
Of cit, west-ender, and noblesse,
Who in Hyde Park crowd like a fair
To stare, and lounge, and take the air,
Or ride or drive, or walk, and chat
On fashions, scandal, and all that.--
Here, reader, with your leave, will we
Commence our London history.
'Twas Sunday, and the park was full
With Mistress, John, and Master Bull,
And all their little fry.
The crowd pour in from all approaches,
Tilb'ries, dennets, gigs, and coaches;
~167~~
The bells rung merrily.
Old dowagers, their fubsy faces{2}
Painted to eclipse the Graces,
Pop their noddles out
Of some old family affair
That's neither chariot, coach, or chair,
Well known at ev'ry rout.
But bless me, who's that coach and six?
"That, sir, is Mister Billy Wicks,
A great light o' the city,
Tallow-chandler, and lord mayor{3};
Miss Flambeau Wicks's are the fair,
Who're drest so very pretty.
It's only for a year you know
He keeps up such a flashy show;
And then he's melted down.
The man upon that half-starved nag{4}
Is an Ex-S------ff, a strange wag,
Half flash, and half a clown.
But see with artful lures and wiles
The Paphian goddess, Mrs. G***s,{5}
2 There are from twenty to thirty of these well known relics
of antiquity who regularly frequent the park, and attend all
the fashionable routs,--perfumed and painted with the
utmost extravagance: if the wind sets in your face, they may
be scented at least a dozen carriages off.
3 It is really ludicrous to observe the ridiculous pride of
some of these ephemeral things;--during their mayoralty, the
gaudy city vehicle with four richly caparisoned horses is
constantly in the drive, with six or eight persons crammed
into it like a family waggon, and bedizened out in all the
colours of the rainbow;--ask for them six months after, and
you shall find them more suitably employed, packing rags,
oranges, or red herrings.
4 This man is such a strange compound of folly and
eccentricity, that he is eternally in hot water with some
one or other.
5 Mrs. Fanny G-1-s, the ci-devant wife of a corn merchant,
a celebrated courtezan, who sports a splendid equipage, and
has long figured upon town as a star of the first order in
the Cyprian hemisphere. She has some excellent qualities,
as poor M---------n can vouch; for when the fickle goddess
Fortune left him in the lurch, she has a handsome annuity
from a sporting peer, who was once the favoured swain.
~168~~
From out her carriage peeps;
She nods to am'rous Mrs. D-----,{6}
Who bends with most sublime congee,
While ruin'd-----------sleeps.
Who follows 1 'tis the hopeful son
Of the proud Earl of H-----------n,
Who stole the parson's wife.{7}
The Earl of H-----------and flame,
For cabriolets she's the dame,{8}
A dasher, on my life.
Jack T-----1 shows his pleasant face{9};
A royal likeness here you'll trace,
You'd swear he was a Guelph.
See Lady Mary's U------walk,{10}
And though but aide-de-camp to York,
An Adonis with himself,
6 Mrs. D---------, alias Mrs. B-k-y, alias Miss Montague,
the wife of poor Jem B-k-y, the greater his misfortune,--a
well known Paphian queen, one of five sisters, who are all
equally notorious, and whose history is well known. She is
now the favoured sultana of a ci-devant banker, whose name
she assumes, to the disgrace of himself and family.
7 The clerical cornuto recovered, in a crim. con. action,
four thousand pounds for the loss of his frail rib, from
this hopeful sprig of nobility.
8 Mrs. S------, a most voluptuous lady, the discarded chere
amie of the late Lord F-1-d, said to be the best carriage
woman in the park: she lies in the Earl of H-------
--'s cabriolet most delightfully stretched out at full
length, and in this elegant posture is driven through the
park.
9 Captain T------l of the guards, whose powerful similitude
to the reigning family of England is not more generally
admitted than his good-humoured qualities are universally
admired.
10 The Hon. General U---------, aide-de-camp to the Duke of
York, whose intrigue with Lady Mary------------was, we have
heard, a planned affair to entrap a very different person.
Be that as it may, it answered the purpose, and did not
disturb the friendship of the parties. The honourable
general has obtained the appellation of the Park Adonis,
from his attractive figure and known gallantries.
~169~~
A-----------y mark, a batter'd beau,{11}
Who'll still the fatal dice-box throw
Till not a guinea's left.
Beyond's the brothers B-----e,{12}
Of gold and acres quite as free,
By gaming too bereft.
Here trips commercial dandy Ra-k-s,{13}
11 Lord A------y, the babe of honour--once the gayest of
the gay, where fashion holds her bright enchanting court;
now wrinkled and depressed, and plucked of every feather, by
merciless Greek banditti. Such is the infatuation of play,
that he still continues to linger round the fatal table, and
finds a pleasure in recounting his enormous losses. A---y,
who is certainly one of the most polished men in the
world, was the leader of the dandy club, or the unique four,
composed of Beau Brummell, Sir Henry Mildmay, and Henry
Pierrepoint, the Ambassador, as he is generally termed. When
the celebrated dandy ball was given to his Majesty (then
Prince of Wales), on that occasion the prince seemed
disposed to cut Brummell, who, in revenge, coolly
observed to A------y, when he was gone,--"Big Ben was vulgar
as usual." This was reported at Carlton House, and led to
the disgrace of the exquisite.--Shortly afterwards he met the
Prince and A------y in public, arm in arm, when the former,
desirous of avoiding him, quitted the baron: Brummell, who
observed his motive, said loud enough to be heard by the
prince,--"Who is that fat friend of yours?" This expression
sealed his doom; he was never afterwards permitted the
honour of meeting the parties at the palace. The story of
"George, ring the bell," and the reported conduct of the
prince, who is said to have obeyed the request and ordered
Mr. Brummell's carriage, is, we have strong reasons for
thinking, altogether a fiction: Brummell knew the dignity of
his host too well to have dared such an insult. The king
since generously sent him 300L. when he heard of his
distress at Calais. Brummell was the son of a tavern-keeper
in St. James's, and is still living at Calais.
12 The brothers are part of a flock of R------r geese, who
have afforded fine plucking for the Greeks. Parson Ambrose,
the high priest of Pandemonium, had a leg of one and a wing
of the other devilled for supper one night at the Gothic
Hall. They have cut but a lame figure ever since.
13 A quaint cognomen given to the city banker by the west-
end beaux;--he is a very amiable man.
~170~~
Who never plays for heavy stakes,
But looks to the main chance.
There's Georgy W-b-ll, all the go,{14}
The mould of fashion,--the court beau,
Since Brummell fled to France:
His bright brass harness, and the gray,
The well known black cabriolet,
Is always latest there;
The reason,--George, with Captain P------
The lady-killing coterie,
Come late--to catch the fair.
See W-s-r, who with pious love,{15}
For her, who's sainted now above,
A sister kindly takes;
So, as the ancient proverb tells,
"The best of husbands, modern belles,
Are your reformed rakes."
In splendid mis'ry down the ride
Alone,--see ****** lady glide,{16}
Neglected for a--------.
What's fame, or titles, wealth's increase,
Compared unto the bosom's peace?
They're bubbles,--nothing more.
14 George, although a _roue_ of the most superlative order,
is not deficient in good sense and agreeable qualifications.
Since poor Beau Brummell's removal from the hemisphere of
fashion, George has certainly shone a planet of the first
magnitude: among the fair he is also considered like his
friend, Captain P-r-y, a perfect lady-killer:--many a little
milliner's girl has had cause to regret the seductive notes
of A.Z.B. Limmer's Hotel.
15 The Marquis of W-c-t-r has, since his first wife's death,
married her sister.--Reformation, we are happy to perceive,
is the order of the day. The failure of Howard and Gibbs
involved more than one noble family in embarrassments.
16 The amours of this child of fortune are notorious both on
the continent and in this country. It is very often the
misfortune of great men to be degraded by great profligacy
of conduct: the poor lady is a suffering angel.
~171~~
Observe yon graceful modest group{17}
Who look like chaste Diana's troop,
The Ladies Molineaux;
With Sefton, the Nimrod of peers,
As old in honesty,--as years,
A stanch true buff' and blue.
"What portly looking man is that
In plain blue coat,--to whom each hat
Is moved in ride and walk!"
That pleasant fellow, be it known,
Is heir presumptive to the throne,
'Tis Frederick of York.{18}
A better, kinder hearted soul
You will not And, upon the whole,
Within the British isle.
But see where P-t's wife appears,{19}
Who changed, though rather late in years,
For honest George Ar-le.
Now by my faith it gives me pain
17 The female branches of the Sefton family are superior to
the slightest breath of calumny, and present an example to
the peerage worthy of more general imitation.
18 No member of the present royal family displays more
agreeable qualifications in society than the heir
presumptive.--Un-affected, affable, and free, the duke may be
seen daily pacing St. James's-street, Pall-mall, or the
Park, very often wholly un-attended: as his person is
familiar to the public, he never experiences the slightest
inconvenience from curiosity, and he is so generally
beloved, that none pass him who know him without paying
their tribute of respect. In all the private relations of
life he is a most estimable man,--in his public situation
indefatigable, prompt, and attentive to the meanest applica-
tion.
19 A more lamentable instance of the profligacy of the age
cannot be found than in the history of the transaction which
produced this exchange of wives and persons. A wag of the
day published a new list of promotions headed as follows,--
Lady B------n to be Lady A------r P-t,--by exchange--Lady P-t
to be Duchess of A------e,--by promotion--Lady Charlotte W--y
to be Lady P-t, vice Lady P-t, promoted.
~172~~
To see thee, cruel Lady J-,{20}
Regret the golden Ball.
Tis useless now:--"the fox and grapes"
Remember, and avoid the apes
Which wait an old maid's fall.
Gay lady H-----e's twinkling star{21}
20 It is not long since that, inspired by love or ambition,
a wealthy commoner sought the promise of the fair hand of
Lady J-, nor was the consent of her noble father (influenced
by certain weighty reasons*) wanting to complete the
anticipated happiness of the suitor.--All the preliminary
forms were arranged,--jointure and pin money liberally
fixed,--some legal objections as to a covenant of forfeiture
overcame, a suitable establishment provided. The happy day
was fixed, when--"mark inconstant fickle woman"--the evening
previous to completion (to the surprise of all the town),
she changed her mind; she had reconsidered the subject!--The
man was wealthy, and attractive in person; but then--
insupportable objection--he was a mere plebeian, a common
esquire, and his name was odious,--Lady J- B-1,--she could
never endure it: the degrading thought produced a fainting
fit,--the recovery a positive refusal,--the circumstance a
week's amusement to the fashionable world. Reflection and
disappointment succeeded, and a revival was more than once
spoken of; but the recent marriage of the bachelor put an
end to all conjecture, and the poor lady was for some time
left to bewail in secret her single destiny. Who can say,
when a lady has the golden ball at her foot, where she may
kick it? Circumstances which have occurred since the above
was written prove that the lady has anticipated our advice.
21 Her ladyship's crimson vis-a-vis and her tall footman
are both highly attractive--there are no seats in the
vehicle--the fair owner reclines on a splendid crimson velvet
divan or cushion. She must now be considered a beauty of the
last century, being already turned of fifty: still she
continued to flourish in the annals of--fashion, until
within the last few years; when she ceased to go abroad for
amusement, finding it more convenient to purchase it at
home. As her parties in Grosvenor-square are of the most
splendid description, and her dinners (where she is the
presiding deity, and the only one) are frequent, and
unrivalled for a display of the "savoir vivre," her ladyship
can always draw on the gratitude of her guests for that
homage to hospitality which she must cease to expect to her
charms, "now in the sear and yellow leaf:"--she is a M-nn-
rs-"verbum sal." Speaking of M-nn-ra, where is the portly
John (the Regent's double, as he was called some few years
since), and the amiable duchess, who bestowed her hand and
fortune upon him?--but, n'importe.
* The marquis is said to have shown some aversion in the
first instance, till H-s B-1 sent his rent roll for his
inspection: this was immediately returned with a very
satisfactory reply, but accompanied with a more embarrassing
request, namely, a sight of his pedigree.
~173~~
Glimmers in eclipse,--afar's
The light of former time.
In gorgeous pride and vis-a-vis,{22}
A-b-y's orange livry see,
The gayest in the clime.
Camac and wife, in chariot green,
Constant as turtle-doves are seen,
With two bronze slaves behind;
Next H-tf-d's comely, widow'd dame,{23}
With am'rous G------, a favourite name,
When G------was true and kind.
22 "The gorgeous A-b-y in the sun-flower's pride." This
lady's vis-a-vis by far the most splendidly rich on town.
Her footmen (of which there are four on drawing-room days)
are a proper emblem of that gaudy flower--bright yellow
liveries, black lower garments, spangled and studded. There
is a general keeping in this gorgeous equipage, which is
highly creditable to the taste of the marchioness, for the
marquis, "good easy man," (though a Bruce), he is too much
engaged preserving his game at Ro-er-n park, and keeping up
the game in St. Stephen's (where his influence is
represented by no less than eight "sound men and true"), to
attend to these trifling circumstances. This, with a well
paid rental of upwards of L100,000 per annum, makes the life
of this happy pair pass in an uninterrupted stream of
fashionable felicity.
23 The marchioness is said to bear the neglect of a certain
capricious friend with much cool philosophy. Soon after the
intimacy had ceased, they met by accident. On the sofa, by
the side of the inconstant, sat the reigning favourite; the
marchioness placed herself (uninvited) on the opposite side:
astonishment seized the ****; he rose, made a very graceful
bow to one of the ladies, and coolly observed to the
marchesa--"If this conduct is repeated, I must decline
meeting you in public." This was the cut royal.
~174~~
See S-b-y's peeress, whom each fool
Of fashion meets in Sunday school,{24}
To chat in learned lore;
Where rhyming peers, and letter'd beaus,
Blue stocking belles to love dispose,
And wit is deem'd a bore.
With brave Sir Ronald, toe to toe,
See Mrs. M-h-l A-g-lo,{25}
Superb equestriana.
Next--that voluptuous little dame,{26}
Who sets the dandy world in flame,
The female Giovanni.
Erin's sprightly beauteous belle,
Gay Lady G-t-m, and her swell
The Yorkshire Whiskerandoes.{27}
24 The dulness of the marchioness's Sunday evening conver-
saziones have obtained them the fashionable appellation of
the Sunday-school. Lord Byron thought it highly dangerous
for any wit to accept a second invitation, lest he should be
inoculated with ennui.
23 Mrs. M- A-g-e, a very amiable and accomplished woman,
sister to Sir H-y V-ne T-p-t. She is considered the best
female equestrian in the ride.
26 A consideration for the delicacy of our fair readers
will not allow us to enter upon the numerous amours of this
favourite of Apollo and the Muses, and not less celebrated
intriguant. She may, however, have ample justice entailed
upon her under another head. Latterly, since the police have
been so active in suppressing the gaming houses, a small
party have met with security and profit for a little chicken
hazard in Curzon-street, at which Mr. C-t has occasionally
acted as croupier and banker. Elliston used to say, when
informed of the sudden indisposition or absence of a certain
little actress and singer-"Ay, I understand; she has a more
profitable engagement than mine this evening." The amorous
trio, Cl-g-t, Charles H-r-s, and the exquisite Master G-e,
may not have cause to complain of neglect. The first of
these gentlemen has lately, we understand, been very
successful at play; we trust experience will teach him
prudence.
27 His lordship commands the York hussars, in defence of
whose whiskers he sometime since made a Quixotic attack upon
a public writer. As he is full six feet high, and we are not
quite five, prudence bids us place our finger on our lip.
~175~~
Pale Lambton, he who loves and hates
By turns, what Pitts, or Pit, creates,
Led by the Whig fandangoes.
Sound folly's trumpet, fashion's drums,--
Here great A------y W------ce comes,{28}
'Mong tailors, a red button.
With luminarious nose and cheeks,
Which love of much good living speaks,
Observe the city glutton:
Sir W-m, admiral of yachts,
Of turtles, capons, port, and pots,
In curricle so big.
Jack F-r follows;--Jack's a wag,{29}
28 A------y W------o, Esq. otherwise the renowned Billy
Button, the son and heir to the honours, fortune, and
shopboard of the late Billy Button of Bedford-street, Covent
Garden. The latter property he appears to have transferred
to the front of the old brown landau, where the aged
coachman, with nose as flat as the ace of clubs, sits,
transfixed and rigid as the curls of his caxon, from three
till six every Sunday evening, urging on a cabbage-fed pair
of ancient prods, which no exertion of the venerable Jehu
has been able for the last seven years to provoke into a
trot from Hyde park gate to that of Cumberland and back
again. The contents of the vehicle are equally an
exhibition. Billy, with two watches hung by one chain,
undergoing the revolutionary movements of buckets in a
well, and his eye-glass set round with false pearls, are
admirably "en suite" with his bugle optics. The frowsy
madam in faded finery, with all the little Buttons, attended
by a red-haired poor relation from Inverness (who is at once
their governess and their victim), form the happy tenantry
of this moving closet. No less than three, crests surmount
the arms of this descendant of Wallace the Great. A waggish
Hibernian, some few months since, added a fourth, by
chalking a goose proper, crested with a cabbage, which was
observed and laughed at by every one in the park except the
purblind possessor of the vehicle, who was too busy in
looking at himself.
29 Honest Jack is no longer an M.P., to the great regret of
the admirers of senatorial humours. Some few years since,
being Btuehi plenus, he reeled into St. Stephen's chapel a
little out of a perpendicular; when the then dignified Abbot
having called him to order, he boldly and vociferously
asserted that "Jack F-r of Rose-Hill was not to be set down
by any little fellow in a wig. "This offence against the
person and high office of the Abbot of St. Stephen's brought
honest Jack upon his knees, to get relieved from a
troublesome serjeant attendant of the chapel. Knowing his
own infirmities, and fearing perhaps that he might be com-
pelled to make another compulsory prayer, Jack resigned his
pretensions to senatorial honors at the last general
election. His chief amusement, when in town, is the watching
and tormenting the little marchandes des modes who cross
over or pass in the neighbourhood of Regent-street--he is,
however, perfectly harmless. 30 An unlucky accident,
occasioned by little Th-d the wine merchant overturning F-z-y
in his tandem, compelled the latter to sell out of the
army, but not without having lost a leg in the service. A
determined patriot, he was still resolved to serve his
country. A barrister on one leg might be thought ominous of
his client's cause, or afford food for the raillery of his
opponent. The bar was therefore rejected. But the church
opened her arms to receive the dismembered son of Mars (a
parson with a cork leg, or two wooden ones, or indeed
without a leg to stand on, was not un-orthodox), and F-z-y
was soon inducted to a valuable benefice. He is now, we
believe, a pluralist, and, if report be true, has shown
something of the old soldier in his method of retaining
them. F-y married Miss Wy-d-m, the daughter of Mrs. H-s, who
was the admired of his brother, L-d P-. He is generally
termed the fighting parson, and considered one of the best
judges of a horse in town: he sometimes does a little
business in that way among the young ones.
~176~~
A jolly dog, who sports his nag,
Or queers the Speaker's wig:
To Venus, Jack is stanch and true;
To Bacchus pays devotion too,
But likes not bully Mars.
Next him, some guardsmen, exquisite,-
A well-dress'd troop;--but as to fight,
It may leave ugly scars.
Here a church militant is seen,{30}
Who'd rather fight than preach I ween,
Once major, now a parson;
With one leg in the grave, he'll laugh,
Chant up a pard, or quaintly chaff,
To keep life's pleasant farce on.
~177~~
Lord Arthur Hill his Arab sports,
And gentle-usher to the courts:
See Horace and Kang C-k,{31}
Who, with the modern Mokamna
C-m-e, must ever bear the sway
For ugliness of look.
A pair of ancients you may spy,{32}
Sir Edward and Sir Carnaby,
From Brighton just set free;
The jesters of our lord the king,
Who loves a joke, and aids the thing
In many a sportive way.
A motley group come rattling on,{33}
31 Horace S-y-r, gentleman usher to the king, and K-g C-k,
said to be the ugliest man in the British army: in the park
he is rivalled only by C-c. For the benefit of all the
married ladies, we would recommend both of these
singularities to wear the veil in public.
32 Sir Ed-d N-g-e. His present majesty is not less fond of a
pleasant joke than his laughter-loving predecessor, Charles
II. The Puke of Clarence, while at the Pavilion (a short
time since), admired a favourite grey pony of Sir E-d N-e's;
in praise of whose qualities the baronet was justly liberal.
After the party had returned to the palace, the duke, in
concert with the k-g, slily gave directions to have the pony
painted and disfigured (by spotting him with water colour
and attaching a long tail), and then brought on the lawn. In
this state he was shown to Sir E--, as one every way
superior to his own. After examining him minutely, the old
baronet found great fault with the pony; and being, at the
duke's request, induced to mount him, objected to all his
paces, observing that he was not half equal to his grey. The
king was amazingly amused with the sagacity of the good-
humoured baronet, and laughed heartily at the astonishment
he expressed when convinced of the deception practised upon
him. Sir C-n-y H-s-ne, although a constant visitor at the
Pavilion, is not particularly celebrated for any attractive
qualification, unless it be his unlimited love of little
ladies. He is known to all the horse dealers round London,
from his constant inquiries for a "nice quiet little horse
to carry a lady;" but we never heard of his making a
purchase.
33 The middle order of society was formerly in England the
most virtuous of the three--folly and vice reared their
standard and recruited their ranks in the highest and the
lowest; but the medium being now lost, all is in the
extreme. The superlative dandy inhabitant of a first floor
from the ground in Bond-street, and the finished inhabitant
of a first floor from heaven (who lives by diving) in Fleet-
street, are in kindness and habits precisely the same.
~178~~
Who ape the style and dress of ton,
And Scarce are worth review;
Yet forced to note the silly elves,
Who take such pains to note themselves,
We'll take a name or two.
H-s-ly, a thing of shreds and patches,{34}
Whose manners with his calling matches,
That is, he's a mere goose.
Old St-z of France, a worthy peer,
From shopboard rais'd him to a sphere
Of ornament and use.
The double dandy, fashion's fool,
The lubin log of Liverpool,
Fat Mister A-p-ll,
Upon his cob, just twelve hands high,
A mountain on a mouse you'll spy
Trotting towards the Mall.
Sir *-----*-, the chicken man,{35}
34 Young Priment, as he is generally termed, the once
dashing foreman and cutter out, now co-partner of the
renowned Baron St-z, recently made a peer of France. Who
would not be a tailor (St-z has retired with a fortune of
L100,000. )! Lord de C-ff-d, some time since objecting to
certain items in his son's bill from St-z, as being too
highly charged, said, "Tell Mr. S- I will not pay him, if it
costs me a thousand pounds to resist it. " St-z, on hearing
this, said, "Tell his lordship that he shall pay the
charge, if it costs me ten thousand to make him." H-s-ly
with some little satisfaction was displaying to a customer
the Prince of C-b-g's bill for three months (on the occasion
of his Highness's new field-marshal's suit, we suppose):
"Here," said he, "see what we have done for him: his
quarter's tailor's bill now comes to more than his annual
income formerly amounted to." Mr. H-s-ly sports a bit of
blood, a dennet, and a filly; and, for a tailor, is a
superfine sort of dandy, but with a strong scent of the shop
about him.
35 The redoubtable general's penchant for little girls has
obtained him the tender appellation of the chicken man.
Many of these _petits amours_ are carried on in the assumed
name of Sir Lewis N-t-n, aided by the skill and ingenuity
of Captain *-. Youth may plead whim and novelty for low
intrigue; but the aged beau can only resort to it from
vitiated habit.
~179~~
With pimp *-a-t in the van,
The Spy of an old Spy;
Who beat up for recruits in town,
Mong little girls, in chequer'd gown,
Of ages rather shy.
That mild, complacent-looking face,{36}
Who sits his bit of blood with grace,
Is tragic Charley Young:
With dowager savant a beau,
Who'll spout, or tales relate, you know,
Nobility among.
"Sure such a pair was never seen"
By nature form'd so sharp and keen
As H-ds-n and Jack L-g;
Or two who've play'd their cards so well,
As many a pluck'd roue can tell,
Whose purses once were strong:
Both deal in pipes--and by the nose
Have led to many a green horn's woes
A few gay bucks to Surrey,
Where Marshal Jones commands in chief
A squadron, who to find relief
Are always in a hurry.
They're folloiv'd by a merry set--
Cl-m-ris, L-n-x, young B-d-t,
Whom they may shortly follow.
That tall dismember'd dandy mark,
Who strolls dejected through the park,
With cheeks so lank and hollow;
That's Badger B-t-e, poet A--
The mighty author of "To-day,"
36 This truly respectable actor is highly estimated among a
large circle of polished society; where his amusing talents
and gentlemanly demeanour render him a most entertaining
and agreeable companion.
~180~~
Forgotten of "To-morrow;"
A superficial wit, who 'll write
For Shandy little books of spite,
When cash he wants to borrow.
The pious soul who 's driving by,
And at the poet looks so shy,
Is parson A- the gambler;{37}
His deaf-lugg'd daddy a known blade
In Pandemonium's fruitful trade,
'Mong Paphians a rambler.
Augusta H-ke (or C-i) moves
Along the path--her little doves--
Decoys, upon each arm.
Where 's Jehu Martin, four-in-hand,
An exile in a foreign land
From fear of legal charm.
A pensioner of Cyprian queen,
The Bond-street tailor here is seen,
The tally-ho so gay.
Next P------s,{38} who by little goes,
37 The parson is so well known, and has been so plentifully
be-spattered on all sides, that we shall, with true orthodox
charity, leave him with a strong recommendation to the
notice of the society for the suppression of vice, with this
trite remark, "_Vide hic et ubique_."
38 This man, who is now reported to be worth three hundred
thousand pounds, was originally a piece-broker in Bedford-
bury, and afterwards kept a low public house in Vinegar-
yard, Drury-lane; from whence he merged into an illegal
lottery speculation in Northumberland-street, Strand, where
he realized a considerable sum by insurances and little
goes; from this spot he was transplanted to Norris-street,
in the Haymarket, managing partner in a gaming-house, when,
after a run of ill luck, an affair occurred that would have
occasioned some legal difficulty but for the oath of a
pastry-cook's wife, who proved an alibi, in return for which
act of kindness he afterwards made her his wife. Obtaining
possession of the rooms in Pall-Mall (then the celebrated
E. O. tables, and the property of W-, the husband, by a sham
warrant), the latter became extremely jealous; and, to make
all comfortable, our hero, to use his own phrase, generously
bought the mure and coll.--Mrs. W--and her son--both since
dead: the latter rose to very high rank in an honourable
profession. The old campaigner has now turned pious, and
recently erected and endowed a chapel. He used to boast he
had more promissory notes of gambling dupes than would be
sufficient to cover the whole of Pall-Mall; he may with
justice add, that he can command bank notes enough to cover
Cavendish-square.
~181~~
And west-end hells, to fortune rose
By many a subtle way.
Patron of bull-baits, racings, fights,
A chief of black-legg'd low delights--
'Tis the new m------s, F-k;
Time was, his heavy vulgar gait,
With one of highest regal state
Took precedence of rank:
But now, a little in disgrace
Since J-e usurp'd his m------'s place,
A stranger he's at court;
Unlike the greatest and the best
Who went before, his feather'd nest
Is well enrich'd by sport.
F-1-y disastrous, honour's child;
L-t-he the giddy, gay, and wild,
And sportive little Jack;
The prince of dandies join the throng,
Where Gwydir spanks his fours along,
The silvery grays or black.
The charming F-te, and Colonel B-,{39}
Snugly in close carriage see
With crimson coats behind:
And Mrs. C--, the Christmas belle,
39 We shall not follow the colonel's example, or we could
give some extracts from the letters of a. female
corespondent of his that would be both curious and
interesting; but _n'importe_, consideration for the lady
alone prevents the publication. In town he is always
discovered by a group of would-be exquisites, the satellites
of the Jupiter of B-k-y C-t-e at Gl-r; or at Ch---------m
they have some name; but here they are more fortunate, for
o'er them oblivion throws the friendly veil.
~182~~
With banker's clerk, a tale must tell
To all who are not blind.
Ah! Poodle Byng appears in view,{40}
Who gives at whist a point or two
To dowagers in years.
And see where ev'ry body notes
The star of fashion, Romeo Coates{41}
The amateur appears:
But where! ah! where, say, shall I tell
Are the brass cocks and cockle shell?
Ill hazard, rouge et noir
If it but speak, can tales relate
Of many an equipage's fate,
And may of many more.
Ye rude canaille, make way, make way,
The Countess and the Count--------,{42}
40 This gentleman is generally designated by the name of
"the whist man:" he holds a situation in the secretary of
state's office, and is in particular favour with all the old
dowagers, at whose card parties it is said he is generally
fortunate. He has recently been honoured with the situation
of grand chamberlain to their black majesties of the
Sandwich isles.
41 Poor Borneo's brilliancy is somewhat in eclipse, and
though not quite a fallen star, he must not run on black too
long,--lest his diamond-hilted sword should be the price of
his folly.
42 The Countess of ---------------is the daughter of
Governor J-----------; her mother's name was Patty F-d, the
daughter of an auctioneer who was the predecessor of the
present Mr. Christie's father. Patty, then a very beautiful
woman, went with him to India, and was a most faithfull and
attentive companion.--On the voyage home with J-------
-----and her three children, by him, the present countess,
and her brothers James and George, they touched at the Cape,
where the old governor most ungratefully fell in love with a
young Portuguese lady, whom he married and brought to
England in the same ship with his former associate, whom he
soon after completely abandoned, settling 500L. a year upon
her for the support of herself and daughter; his two sons,
James and George, he provided with writerships in the
company's service, and sent to India. James died young, and
George returned to England in a few years, worth 180,000
pounds.--He lingered in a very infirm state of health, the
effects of the climate and Mrs. M-, alias Madame Haut Gout;
and at his death, being a bachelor, he left the present
countess, his sister who lived with him, the whole of his
property. There are various tales circulated in the
fashionable world relative to the origin and family of the
count, who has certainly been a most fortunate man: he is
chiefly indebted for success with the countess to his skill
as an amateur on the flute, rather than to his paternal
estates. The patron of foreigners, he takes an active part
in the affairs of the Opera-house.--Poor Tori having given
some offence in this quarter, was by his influence kept out
of an engagement; but it would appear he received some
amends, by the following extract from a fashionable paper of
the day.
A certain fashionable------l, who was thought to be _au
comble de bonheur_, has lately been much tormented with that
green-eyed monster, Jealousy, in the shape of an opera
singer. _Plutot mourir que changer_, was thought to be the
motto of the pretty round-faced English------------s; but,
alas! like the original, it was written on the sands of
disappointment, and was scarcely read by the admiring
husband, before his joy was dashed by the prophetic wave,
and the inscription erased by a favoured son of Apollo.
_L'oreille est le chemin du cour_: so thought the ------l,
and forbade the ----------s to hold converse with Monsieur
T.; but _les femmes peuvent tout, parce-qu'elles gouvernent
ceux qui gouvernent tous_. A meeting took place in
Grosvenor-square, and, amid the interchange of doux yeux,
the ---------l arrived: a desperate scuffle ensued; the
intruder was banished the house, and, as he left the door,
is said to have whistled the old French proverb of _Le bon
temps viendra_. This affair has created no little amusement
among the _beau monde_. All the dowagers are fully agreed on
one point, that _l'amour est une passion qui vient souvent
sans qu'on s'en appercoive, et, qui s'en va aussi de meme_.
~183~~
Who play _de prettee_ flute,
Who charm _une petit_ English ninnie,
Till all the Joueur J------'s guinea
Him _pochee en culotte_.
Who follows? 'tis the Signor Tori,
'Bout whom the gossips tell a story,
With some who've gone before:
"The bird in yonder cage confined
Can sing of lovers young and kind,"
But there, he'll sing no more.
~184~~
Lord L------looks disconsolate,{}43
No news from Spain I think of late,
Per favour M--------i.
Ne'er heed, my lord, you still may find
Some opera damsel true and kind,
Who'll prove less coy and naughty.
"Now by the pricking of my thumbs,
There's something wicked this way comes,"
'Tis A-'s false dame,{44}
Who at Almack's, or in the park,
With whispers charms a clucal spark,
To blight his wreath of fame.
Observe, where princely Devonshire,{45}
43 His lordship, though not quite so deeply smitten as the
now happy swain, had, we believe, a little __penchant for
the charming little daughter of Terpsichore. "What news
from Spain, my lord, this morning?" said Sir C. A. to Lord
L------"I have no connexion with the foreign office,"
replied his lordship.--"I beg pardon, my lord, but I am sure
I met a Spanish messenger quitting your house as I entered
it." On the turf, his lordship's four year old (versus five)
speculations with Cove B-n have given him a notoriety that
will, we think, prevent his ruining himself at Newmarket.
Like the immortal F-e, he is one of the opera directors, and
has a great inclination for foreign curiosities. Vide the
following extract.--
"The New Corps de Ballot at the Opera this season, 1823, is
entirely composed of Parisian elegantes, selected with great
taste by Lord L---------, whose judgment in these matters is
perfectly con amore. In a letter to a noble friend on
this subject, Lord L--------says that he has seen, felt, and
(ap-) proved them all------to be excellent artistes with
very finished movements."
Certain ridiculous reports have long been current in the
fashionable world, relative to a mysterious family affair,
which would preclude the noble duke's entering into the
state of matrimony: it is hardly necessary to say they have
no foundation in truth. The duke was certainly born in the
same house and at nearly the same time (in Florence) when
Lady E. F-st-r, since Duchess of D-, was delivered of a
child--but that offspring is living, and, much to the present
duke's honour, affectionately regarded by him. The duke was
for some years abroad after coming to his title, owing, it
is said, to an unpleasant affair arising out of a whist
party at a great house, which was composed of a Prince,
Lords L------and Y------th, another foreign Prince, and a
Colonel B-, of whom no one has heard much since.--A noble
mansion in Piccadilly was there and then assigned to the
colonel, who at the request of the -e, who had long wished
to possess it as a temporary residence, during some
intended repairs at the great house, re-conveyed it to
the------. On the receipt of a note from Y- the next
morning, claiming the amount of the duke's losses, he
started with surprise at the immense sums, and being now
perfectly recovered from the overpowering effects of the
bottle, hastened with all speed to take the opinions of two
well-known sporting peers, whose honour has never been
questioned, Lords F-y and S-n; they, upon a review of the
circumstances, advised that the money should not be paid,
but that all matters in dispute should be referred to a
third peer, Earl G-y, who was not a sporting man: to this
effect a note was written to the applicant, but not before
some communication had taken place with a very high
personage; the consequence was that no demand was ever
afterwards made to the referee. Lord G- C- afterwards re-
purchased the great house with the consent of the duke from
the fortunate holder, as he did not like it to be
dismembered from the family. We believe this circumstance
had a most salutary effect in preventing any return of a
propensity for play.
44 Charley loves good place and wine,
And Charley loves good brandy,
And Charley's wife is thought divine,
By many a Jack a dandy.
PARODY ON AN OLD NURSERY RHYME.
{45} A CHARACTER OF DEVONSHIRE.
[Illustration: page184]
~185~~
[Illustration: page185]
~186~~
In action, heart, and mind, a peer,
Avoids the public gaze;
Graceful, yet simple in attire,
You'd take him for a plain esquire;
"His acts best speak his praise."
That queer, plain, yellow chariot, mark,
Which drives so rapid through the park,
The servants clothed in gray--
That's George, incog.--George who? George-king,{46}
Of whom near treason 'tis to sing,
In this our sportive lay.
Kings like their subjects should have air
And exercise, without the stare
Which the state show attends;
I love to see in public place
The monarch, who'll his people face,
And meet like private friends.
So may the crown of this our isle
Re ever welcomed with a smile,
And, George, that smile be thine!
Then when the time,--and come it must,
That crowns and sceptres shall be dust,
Thou shalt thy race outshine,
Shalt live in good men's hearts, and tears,
From age to age, while mem'ry rears
The proud historic shrine.
46 FROM THE DIARY OF A POLITICIAN.
"Through Manchester-square took a canter just now,
Met the old yellow chariot, and made a low bow;
This did of course, thinking 'twas loyal and civil,
But got such a look,--oh! 'twas black as the devil.
How unlucky!--incog, he was traveling about,
And I like a noodle must go find him out!
Mem. When next by the old yellow chariot I ride,
To remember there is nothing princely inside."
Tom Moore,
~187~~
What rueful-looking knight is that,{47}
With sunken eye and silken hat,
47 Lord P-r-m, the delicate dandy.
Laced up in stays to show his waist,
And highly rouged to show his taste,
His whiskers meeting 'neath his chin,
With gooseberry eye and ghastly grin,
With mincing steps, conceited phrase,
Such as insipid P- displays:
These are the requisites to shine
A dandy, exquisite, divine.
Ancient Dandies.--A Confession.
The Doctor{*}, as we learn, once said,
To Mistress Thrale--
Howe'er a man be stoutly made,
And free from ail,
In flesh and bone, and colour thrive,
"He's going down at 35."
Yet Horace could his vigour muster
And would not till a later lustre f
One single inch of ground surrender
To any swain in Cupid's calendar.
But one I think a jot too low,
And t'other is too high, I know.
Yet, what I've found, I'll freely state--
The thing may do till.--
But that's a job--for then, in truth,
One's but a clumsy sort of youth:
And maugre looks, some evil tongue
Will say the Dandy is not young:--
For 'mid the yellow and the sear, {**}
Though here and there a leaf be green
No more the summer of the year
It is, than when one swallow's seen.
* Johnson.
t---------------------fuge suspicari
Cujus octavum trepidavit otas
Claudere lustrum.--Od. 4.1. ii.
Now tottering on to forty years,
My age forbids all jealous fears.
** "My May of life is fallen into
the sear and yellow leaf."--Macbeth.
~188~~
Pinch'd in behind and 'fore?
Whose visage, like La Mancha's chief,
Seems the pale frontispiece to grief,
As if 'twould ne'er laugh more:
Whose dress and person both defy
The poet's pen, the painter's eye,
'Tis _outre tout nature_.
His Arab charger swings his tail,
Curvets and prances to the gale
Like Death's pale horse,--
And neighing proudly seems to say,
Here Fashion's vot'ries must pay
Homage of course:
Tis P-h-m, whom Mrs. H-g-s
At opera and play-house dodges
Since he gain'd Josephine;
Tailors adorn a thousand ways,
And (though Time won't) men may make Slays;
The dentist, barber, make repairs,
New teeth supply, and colour hairs;
But art can ne'er return the Spring--
And spite of all that she can do,
_A Beau's_ a very wretched thing
At 42!
The late Princess Charlotte issued an order, interdicting
any one of her household appearing before her with frightful
fringes to their leaden heads. In consequence of this cruel
command, P-r-m, being one of the lords of the bed-chamber,
was compelled to curtail his immense whiskers. A very
feeling ode appeared upon the occasion, entitled My
Whiskers, dedicated to the princess; it was never printed,
but attributed to Thomas Moore. The Kiss, or Lady Francis W-
W-'s Frolic, had nearly produced a fatal catastrophe. How
would poor Lady Anne W-m have borne such a misfortune? or
what purling stream would have received the divine form of
the charming Mrs. H-d-s? But alas! he escaped little W-'s
ball, only to prove man's base ingratitude, for he has
since cut with both these beauties for the interesting
little Josephine, the protegee of T------y B-t, and the
sister of the female Giovanni.
~189~~
Ye madly vicious, can it be!
A mother sunk in infamy,
To sell her child is seen.
Let Bow-street annals, and Tom B-t,{48}
Who paid the mill'ner, tell the rest,
It suits not with our page;
Just satire while she censures,--feels,--
Verse spreads the vice when it reveals
The foulness of the age.
'Tis half-past five, and fashion's train
No longer in Hyde Park remain,
Bon ton cries hence, away;
The low-bred, vulgar, Sunday throng,
Who dine at two, are ranged along
On both sides of the way;
With various views, these honest folk
Descant on fashions, quiz and joke,
Or mark a shy cock down{49};
For many a star in fashion's sphere
Can only once a week appear
In public haunts of town,
Lest those two ever watchful friends,
The step-brothers, whom sheriff sends,
John Doe and Richard Roe,
A taking pair should deign to borrow,
To wit, until All Souls, the morrow,
The body of a beau;
48 Poor Tom B-t has paid dear for his protection of
the Josephine: fifteen hundred pounds for millinery in
twelve months is a very moderate expenditure for so young a
lady of fashion. It is, to be sure, rather provoking that
such an ape as Lord ------should take command of the
frigate, and sail away in defiance of the chartered party,
the moment she was well found and rigged for a cruize. See
Common Plea Reports, 1823
49 The Sunday men, as they are facetiously called in the
fashionable world, are not now so numerous as formerly: the
facility of a trip across the Channel enables many a shy
cock to evade the scrutinizing eye and affectionate
attachment of the law.
But Sunday sets the pris'ner free,
He shows in Park, and laughs with glee
At creditors and Bum.
Then who of any taste can bear
The coarse, low jest and vulgar stare
Of all the city scum,
Of fat Sir Gobble, Mistress Fig,
In buggy, sulky, coach, or gig,
With Dobbin in the shay?
At ev'ry step some odious face,
Of true mechanic cut, will place
Themselves plump in your way.
Now onward to the Serpentine,
A river straight as any line,
Near Kensington, let's walk;
Or through her palace gardens stray,
Where elegantes of the day
Ogle, congee, and talk.
Here imperial fashion reigns,
Here high bred belles meet courtly swains
By assignation.
Made at Almack's, Argyle, or rout,
While Lady Mother walks about
In perturbation,
Watching her false peer, or to make
A Benedict of some high rake,
To miss a titled prize.
Here, cameleon-colour'd, see
Beauty in bright variety,
Such as a god might prize.
Here, too, like the bird of Juno,
Fancy's a gaudy group, that you know,
Of gay _marchands des modes_.
Haberdashers, milliners, fops
From city desks, or Bond-street shops,
And belles from Oxford-road,
Crowds here, commingled, pass and gaze,
And please themselves a thousand ways;
~191~~
Some read the naughty rhymes
Which are on ev'ry alcove writ,
Immodest, lewd attempt at wit,
Disgraceful to the times.
Here Scotland's dandy Irish Earl,{50}
With Noblet on his arm would whirl,
And frolic in this sphere;
With mulberry coat, and pink cossacks,
The red-hair'd Thane the fair attacks,
F-'s ever on the leer;
And when alone, to every belle
The am'rous beau love's tale will tell,
Intent upon their ruin.
Beware, Macduff, the fallen stars!
Venus aggrieved will fly to Mars;
There's mischief brewing.
What mountain of a fair is that,
Whose jewels, lace, and Spanish hat,
Proclaim her high degree,
With a tall, meagre-looking man,
Who bears her reticule and fan?
That was Maria D-,
Now the first favourite at court,
50 His lordship is equally celebrated in the wars of Mars
and Venus, as a general in the service of Spain. When Lord
M-d-ff, in the desperate bombardment of Matagorda (an old
fort in the Bay of Cadiz), the falling of a fragment of the
rock, struck by a shell, broke, his great toe; in this
wounded state he was carried about the alameda in a cherubim
chair by two bare-legged gallegos, to receive the
condolations of the grandees, and, we regret to add, the
unfeeling jeers of the British, who made no scruple to
assert that his lordship had, as usual, "put his foot in
it." The noble general would no doubt have added another
leaf to bis laurel under the auspices of the ex-smuggler,
late illustrissimo general Ballasteros, had not he suddenly
become a willing captive to the soul-subduing charms of the
beauteous Antonia of Terrifa, of whose history and
melancholy death we may speak hereafter. On a late occasion,
he has been honoured with the star of the Guelphic order
(when, for the first time in his life, he went on his
knees), as some amends for his sudden dismissal from the
bed-chamber. Noblet, who has long since been placed upon the
pension list, has recently retired, and is succeeded by a
charming little Parisian actress who lives in the New Road,
and plays with the French company now at Tottenham-street
theatre. Lord L---------has also a little interest in the
same concern. His lordship's _affaires des cour_ with
Antonia, Noblet, and M---------, though perfectly
platonic, have proved more expensive than the most
determined votary to female attractions ever endured: for
the gratification of this innocent passion, Marr's{*} mighty
pines have bit the dust, and friendly purses bled.
~192~~
And, if we may believe report,
She holds the golden key
Of the backstairs, and can command
A potent influence in the land,
But K------N best can tell;
Tis most clear, no ill betide us,
Near the Georgium sidus
This planet likes to dwell.
Lovely as light, when morning breaks{51}
Above the hills in golden streaks,
Observe yon blushing rose,
Uxbridge, the theme of ev'ry tongue,
The sylph that charms the ag'd and young,
Where grace and virtue glows.
Gay Lady H-e her lounge may take,{52}
Reclining near the Indian lake.,
And think she's quite secure;
51 The beautiful little countess, the charming goddess of
the golden locks, was a Miss Campbell, a near relation of
the Duke of Argyll. She is a most amiable and interesting
elegante.
52 Although Lord L-e is the constant attendant of Lady H-,
report says the attachment is merely platonic. His lordship
was once smitten with her sister; and having thero suffered
the most cruel disappointment, consoles himself for his loss
in the sympathizing society of Lady H------.
* Marr Forest, belonging to his lordship, producing the
finest mast pines in the empire; the noble earl has lately
cut many scores of them ami some old friends, rather than
balk his fancy.
~193~~
As well might C-1-ft hope to pass
Upon the town his C-----r lass
For genuine and pure.
See Warwick's charming countess glide,{53}
With constant Harry by her side,
Along the gay _parterre_;
And look where the loud laugh proclaims
The cits and their cameleon dames,
The gaudy Cheapside fair,
Drest in all colours o' the shop,
Fashion'd for the Easter hop,
To grace the civic feast,
Where the great Lord Mayor presides
O'er tallow, ribands, rags, and hides,
The sultan o' the east.
The would-be poet, Ch-s L-h,{54}
Comes saunt'ring with his graces three,
The little gay coquettes.
After, view the Cyprian corps
Of well-known traders, many score,
From Bang to Angel M-tz,
A heedless, giddy, laughing crew,
Who'd seem as if they never knew
Of want or fell despair;
Yet if unveil'd the heart might be,
You'd find the demon, Misery,
Had ta'en possession there.
Think not that satire will excuse,
Ye frail, though fair; or that the muse
Will silent pass ye by:
To you a chapter she'll devote,
Where all of fashionable note
53 Lady Sarah Saville, afterwards Lady Monson, now Countess
of Warwick, a most beautiful, amiable, and accomplished
woman. By constant "Harry" is meant her present earl.
54 See Amatory Poems by Ch-os L-h. We could indulge our
readers with a curious account of the demolition of the
Paphian car at Covent Garden theatre, but the story is
somewhat musty.
~194~~
Shall find their history.
"Vice to be hated, needs but be seen;"
And thus shall ev'ry Paphian queen
Be held to public view;
And though protected by a throne,
The gallant and his Miss be shown
In colours just and true.
The countess of ten thousand see,{55}
The dear delightful Savante B-,
Who once was sold and bought:
The magic-lantern well displays
The scenes of long forgotten days,
And gives new birth to thought.
Nay, start not, here we'll not relate
The break-neck story gossips prate
Within the Em'rald Isle:
No spirit gray, or black, or brown,
We'll conjure up, with hideous frown,
To chase the dimpled smile.
In fleeting numbers, as we pass,
We find these shadows in our glass,
We move, and they're no more.
But see where chief of folly's train,
55 The beautiful and accomplished countess is a lovely
daughter of Hibernia; her maiden name was P-r, and her
father an Irish magistrate of high respectability. Her first
matrimonial alliance with Captain F-r proved unfortunate; an
early separation was the consequence, which was effected
through the intervention of a kind friend, Captain J-s of
the 11th. Shortly afterwards her fine person and superior
endowments of mind made an impression upon the earl that
nothing but the entire possession of the lady could allay.
The affair of Lord A- and Mrs. B- is too well known to need
repetition--it could not succeed a second time. Abelard F-
having paid the debt of nature, there was no impediment but
a visit to the temple of Hymen, on which point the lady was
determined; and the yielding suitor, wounded to the vital
part, most readily complied. It is due to the countess to
admit, that since her present elevation, her conduct has
been exemplary and highly praiseworthy.
~195~~
Conceited, simple, rash, and vain,
Comes lib'ral master G-e,{56}
A dandy, half-fledged exquisite,
Who paid nine thousand pounds a night
To female Giovanni.
Reader, I think I hear you say,
"What pleasure had he for his pay?"
Upon my word, not any;
For soon as V-t-s got the cash,
She set off with a splendid dash
From Op'ra to Paris;
Left Cl-t and this simple fool,{67}
Who no doubt's been an easy tool,
To spend it with Charles H-s.
See, Carolina comes in view,
A Lamb, from merry Melbourne's ewe,
Who scaped the fatal knife.
H-ll-d's blue stocking rib appears,
Who makes amends in latter years
For early cause of strife.
Catullus George, the red-hair'd bard,
Whose rhymes, pedantic, crude, and hard,
He calls translations,
Follows the fair; a nibbling mouse
From Westminster, by Cam Hobhouse
Expell'd his station.
Now twilight, with his veil of gray,
The stars of fashion frights away
The carriage homeward rolls along
To music-party, cards and song,
56 A very singular adventure, which occurred in 1823. The
enamoured swain, after settling an annuity of seven hundred
pounds per annum upon the fair inconstant, had the
mortification to find himself abandoned on the very night
the deeds were completed, the lady having made a precipitate
retreat, with a more favoured lover, to Paris. The affair
soon became known, and some friends interfered, when the
deeds were cancelled.
57 Captain citizen Cl-t, an exquisite of the first order,
for a long time the favourite of the reigning sultana.
~196~~
And many a gay delight.
The Goths of Essex-street may groan,{58}
Turn up their eyes, and inward moan,
They dare not here intrude;
Dare not attack the rich and great,
The titled vicious of the state,
The dissolute and lewd.
Vice only is, in some folks' eyes,
Immoral, when in rags she lies,
By poverty subdued;
But deck her forth in gaudy vest,
With courtly state and titled crest,
She's every thing that's good.
"Doth Kalpho break the Sabbath-day?
Why, Kalpho hath no funds to pay;
How dare he trespass then?
How dare he eat, or drink, or sleep,
Or shave, or wash, or laugh, or weep,
Or look like other men?"
My lord his concerts gives, 'tis true,
The Speaker holds his levee too,
And Fashion cards and dices;
But these are trifles to the sin
Of selling apples, joints, or gin--
58 The present times have very properly been stigmatized as
the age of cant. The increase of the puritans, the
smooth-faced evangelical, and the lank-haired sectarian,
with their pious love-meetings and bible associations, have
at last roused the slumbering spirit of the constituted
authorities, who are now making the most vigorous efforts to
impede the progress of these anti-national and hypocritical
fanatics, who, mistaking the true dictates of religion and
benevolence, have, in their inflamed zeal, endeavoured to
extirpate every species of innocent recreation, and have
laid formidable siege to honest-hearted mirth and rustic
revelry. "I am no prophet, nor the son of one; "but if
ever the noble institutions of my country suffer any
revolutionary change, it is my humble opinion it will result
from these sainted associations, from these pious opposers
of our national characteristics, and the noblest institution
of our country, the foundation stone of our honour and
glory, the established church of England. There is (in my
opinion) more mischief to be apprehended to the state from
the humbug of piety than from all the violence of froth,
political demagogues, or the open-mouthed howl of the most
hungry radicals. Let it be understood I speak not against
toleration in its most extended sense, but war only with
hypocrisy and fanaticism, with those of whom Juvenal has
written--"_Qui aurios simulant el baechemalia vivinit_."
~197~~
Low, execrable vices.
Cease, persecutors, mock reclaimers,
Ye jaundiced few, ye legal maimers
Of the lone, poor, and meek;
Ye moral fishers for stray gudgeons,
Ye sainted host of old curmudgeons,
Who ne'er the wealthy seek!
If moralists ye would appear,
Attack vice in its highest sphere,
The cause of all the strife;
The spring and source from whence does flow
Pollution o'er the plains below,
Through all degrees of life.
[Illustration: page197]
THE OPERA.
The Man of Fashion--Fop's Alley--Modern roue and
Frequenters--Characteristic Sketches in High Life--Blue
Stocking Illuminati--Motives and Mariners--Meeting with the
Honourable Lillyman Lionise--Dinner at Long's--Visit to the
Opera--Joined by Bob Transit--A Peep into the Green Room--
Secrets behind the Curtain--Noble Amateurs and Foreign
Curiosities--Notes and Anecdotes by Horatio Heartly.
~198~~ The Opera, to the man of fashion, is the only tolerable place of
public amusement in which the varied orders of society are permitted
to participate. Here, lolling at his ease, in a snug box on the first
circle, in dignified security from the vulgar gaze, he surveys the
congregated mass who fill the arena of the house, deigns occasionally
a condescending nod of recognition to some less fortunate _roue_, or
younger brother of a titled family, who is forcing his way through the
well-united phalanx of vulgar faces that guard the entrance to _Fop's
Alley_; or, if he should be in a state of single blessedness, inclines
his head a little forward to cast round an inquiring glance, a sort of
preliminary overture, to some fascinating daughter of fashion, whose
attention he wishes to engage for an amorous interchange of significant
looks and melting expressions during the last act of the opera. For the
first, he would not be thought so _outre_ as to witness it--the attempt
would require a sacrifice of the dessert and Madeira, and completely
revolutionize ~199~~ the regularity of his dinner arrangement. The
divertissement he surveys from the side wings of the stage, to which
privilege he is entitled as an annual subscriber; trifles a little
badinage with some well-known operatic intriguant, or favourite
danseusej approves the finished movements of the male artistes, inquires
of the manager or committee the forthcoming novelties, strolls into the
green room to make his selection of a well-turned ankle or a graceful
shape, and, having made an appointment for some non play night, makes
one of the distinguished group of operatic cognoscenti who form the
circle of taste in the centre of the stage on the fall of the curtain.
This is one, and, perhaps, the most conspicuous portrait of an opera
frequenter; but there are a variety of characters in the same school all
equally worthy of a descriptive notice, and each differing in contour
and force of chiaroscuro as much as the one thousand and one family
maps which annually cover the walls of the Royal Academy, to the
exclusion of meritorious performances in a more elevated branch of
art. The Dowager Duchess of A------ retains her box to dispose of her
unmarried daughters, and enjoy the gratification of meeting in public
the once flattering groups of noble expectants who formerly paid their
ready homage to her charms and courted her approving smile; but then her
ducal spouse was high in favour, and in office, and now these "summer
flies o' the court" are equally steady in their devotion to his
successor, and can scarcely find memory or opportunity to recognise
the relict of their late ministerial patron. Lord E------ and the
Marchioness of R.------ subscribe for a box between them, enjoying the
proprietorship in alternate weeks. During the Marchesa's periods of
occupation you will perceive Lady H., and the whole of the blue stocking
illuminati, irradiating from this point, like the tributary stars round
some major planet, forming ~200~~ a grand constellation of attraction.
Here new novels, juvenile poets, and romantic tourists receive their
fiat, and here too the characters of one half the fashionable world
undergo the fiery ordeal of scrutinization, and are censured or
applauded more in accordance with the prevailing on dits of the day, or
the fabrications of the club, than with any regard to feeling, truth, or
decorum. The following week-, how changed the scene!--the venerable
head of the highly-respected Lord E------ graces the corner, like a
Corinthian capital finely chiseled by the divine hand of Praxiteles;
the busy tongue of scandal is dormant for a term, and in her place
the Solons of the land, in solemn thoughtfulness, attend the sage
injunctions of their learned chief. Too enfeebled by age and previous
exertion to undergo the fatigues of parliamentary duty, the baron here
receives the visits of his former colleagues, and snatching half an hour
from his favourite recreation, gives a decided turn to the politics of
a party by the cogency of his reasoning and the brilliancy of his
arguments. The Earl of F------has a grand box on the ground tier, for
the double purpose of admiring the chaste evolutions of the sylphic
daughters of Terpsichore, and of being observed himself by all the
followers of the cameleon-like, capricious goddess, Fashion.
The G------B-----, the wealthy commoner, Fortune's favoured child,
retains a box in the best situation, if not on purpose, yet in fact, to
annoy all those within hearing, by the noisy humour of his Bacchanalian
friends, who reel in at the end of the first act of the opera, full
primed with the choicest treasures of his well stocked bins, to quiz the
young and modest, insult the aged and respectable, and annihilate the
anticipated pleasures of the scientific and devotees of harmony, by the
coarseness of their attempts at wit, the overpowering clamour of their
conversation, and ~201~~ the loud laugh and vain pretence to taste and
critic skill.
The ministerialists may be easily traced by their affectation of
consequence, and a certain air of authority joined to a demi-official
royal livery, which always distinguishes the corps politique, and is
equally shared by their highly plumed female partners. The opposition
are equally discernible by outward and visible signs, such as an assumed
nonchalance, or apparent independence of carriage, that but ill suits
the ambitious views of the wearer, and sits as uneasily upon them as
their measures would do upon the shoulders of the nation. Added to
which, you will never see them alone; never view them enjoying the
passing scene, happy in the society of their accomplished wives and
daughters, but always, like restless and perturbed spirits, congregating
together in conclave, upon some new measure wherewith to sow division
in the nation, and shake the council of the state. And yet to both
these parties a box at the opera is as indispensable as to the finished
courtezan, who here spreads her seductive lures to catch the eye, and
inveigle the heart of the inexperienced and unwary.
But what has all this to do with the opera? or where will this romantic
correspondent of mine terminate his satirical sketch? I think I hear
you exclaim. A great deal more, Mr. Collegian, than your philosophy
can imagine: you know, I am nothing if not characteristic; and this, I
assure you, is a true portrait of the place and its frequenters. I
dare say, you would have expected my young imagination to have been
encompassed with delight, amid the mirth-inspiring compositions of
Corelli, Mozart, or Rossini, warbled forth by that enchanting siren, De
Begnis, the scientific Pasta, the modest Caradori, or the astonishing
Catalani:--Heaven enlighten your unsuspicious mind! Attention to the
merits of the ~202~~ performance is the last thing any fashionable of
the present day would think of devoting his time to. No, no, my dear
Bernard, the opera is a sort of high 'Change, where the court circle and
people of ton meet to speculate in various ways, and often drive as
hard a bargain for some purpose of interest or aggrandisement, as the
plebeian host of all nations, who form the busy group in the grand civic
temple of commerce on Cornbill. You know, I have (as the phrase is),
just come out, and of course am led about like a university lion, by
the more experienced votaries of ton. An accident threw the honourable
Lillyman Lionise into my way the other morning; it was the first time we
had met since we were at Eton: he was sauntering away the tedious
hour in the Arcade, in search of a specific for ennui, was pleased
to compliment me on possessing the universal panacea, linked arms
immediately, complained of being devilishly cut over night, proposed
an adjournment to Long's--a light dinner--maintenon cutlets--some of the
Queensberry hock{1} (a century and a half old)--ice-punch-six whin's
from an odoriferous hookah--one cup of renovating fluid (impregnated
with the Parisian aromatic {2}); and then, having reembellished our
persons, sported{3} a figure at the opera. In the grand entrance, we
enlisted Bob Transit, between whom and the honourable, I congratulated
myself on being in a fair way to be enlightened. Bob knows every
body--the exquisite was not so general in his information; but then
he occasionally furnished some little anecdote of the surrounding
elegantes, relative to affairs de l'amour, or pointed out the
superlative of the haut class, without which much of the interesting
would have escaped my notice.
1 The late Duke of Queensberry's famous old hock, which
since his decease was sold by auction.
2 A Parisian preparation, which gives a peculiar high
flavour and sparkling effect to coffee.
3 An Oxford phrase.
~203~~
In this society, I made my first appearance in the green room; a
little, narrow, pink saloon at the back of the stage, where the dancers
congregate and practise before an immense looking-glass previous to
their appearance in public.
To a fellow of warm imagination and vigorous constitution, such a scene
is calculated to create sensations that must send the circling current
into rapid motion, and animate the heart with thrilling raptures of
delight. Before the mirror, in all the grace of youthful loveliness
and perfect symmetry of form, the divine little fairy sprite, the
all-conquering Andalusian Venus, Mercandotti, was exhibiting her soft,
plump, love-inspiring person in pirouette: before her stood the now
happy swain, the elegant H------ B-, on whose shoulder rested the
Earl of Fe-, admiring with equal ecstasy the finished movements of his
accomplished protegee{4}; on the right hand of the earl stood the single
duke of D--------------e, quizzing the little daughter of Terpsichore
through his eye-glass; on the opposite of the circle was seen the noble
4 It was very generally circulated, and for some time
believed, that the charming little Andalusian Venus was the
natural daughter of the Earl of F-e: a report which had not
a shadow of truth in its foundation, but arose entirely out
of the continued interest the earl took in the welfare of
the lady from the time of her infancy, at which early period
she was exhibited on the stage of the principal theatre in
Cadiz as an infant prodigy; and being afterwards carried
round (as is the custom in Spain) to receive the personal
approval and trifling presents of the grandees, excited such
general admiration as a beautiful child, that the Earl of F-
e, then Lord M- and a general officer in the service of
Spain, adopted the child, and liberally advanced funds for
her future maintenance and instruction, extending his bounty
and protection up to the moment of her fortunate marriage
with her present husband. It is due to the lady to add, that
in every instance her conduct has been marked by the
strictest sense of propriety, and that too in situations
where, it is said, every attraction was offered to have
induced a very opposite course.
~204~~
musical amateur B-----h, supported by the director De R-s on one hand,
and the communicative manager, John Ebers, of Bond-street, on the other;
in a snug corner on the right hand of the mirror was seated one of his
majesty's most honourable privy council, the Earl of W-----d, with a
double Dollond's operatic magnifier in his hand, studying nature
from this most delightful of all miniature models. "A most perfect
divinity," whispered the exquisite. "A glorious fine study," said
Transit,--and, pulling out his card-case and pencil, retired to one
corner of the room, to make a mem., as he called it, of the scene.
(See Plate.) "Who the deuce is that eccentric-looking creature with
the Marquis of Hertford?" said I. "Hush," replied the exquisite, "for
heaven's sake, don't expose yourself! Not to know the superlative roue
of the age, the all-accomplished Petersham, would set you down for a
barbarian at once." "And who," said I, "is the amiable fair bending
before the admiring Worter?" "An old and very dear acquaintance of the
Earl of F-e, Mademoiselle Noblet, who, it is said, displays much cool
philosophy at the inconstancy of her once enamoured swain, consoling
herself for his loss, in the enjoyment of a splendid annuity." A host
of other bewitching forms led my young fancy captive by turns, as my eye
travelled round the magic circle of delight: some were, I found, of
that yielding spirit, which can pity the young heart's fond desire; with
others had secured honourable protection: and if his companion's report
was to be credited, there were very few among the enchanting spirits
before yet with whom that happiness which springs from virtuous pure
affection was to be anticipated. If was no place to moralize, but, to
you who know my buoyancy of spirit, and susceptibility of mind, I must
confess, the reflection produced a momentary pang of the keenest misery.
[Illustration: page205]
THE ROYAL SALOON.
Visit of Heartly, Lionise, and Transit--Description of the
Place--Sketches of Character--The Gambling Parsons--Horse
Chaunting, a true Anecdote--Bang and her Friends--Moll Raffle
and the Marquis W.--The Play Man--The Touter--The Half-pay
Officer--Charles Rattle, Esq.--Life of a modern Roue-B------
the Tailor--The Subject--Jarvey and Brooks the Dissector--
"Kill him when you want him"
~205~~ After the opera, Bob Transit proposed an adjournment to the Royal
Saloon, in Piccadilly, a place of fashionable resort (said Bob) for
shell-fish and sharks, Greeks and pigeons, Cyprians and citizens,
noble and ignoble--in short, a mighty rendezvous, where every variety
of character is to be found, from the finished sharper to the finished
gentleman; a scene pregnant with subject for the pencil of the humorist,
and full of the richest materials for the close observer of men and
manners. Hither we retired to make a night of it, or rather to consume
the hours between midnight and morning's dawn. The place itself is
fitted up in a very novel and attractive style of decoration, admirably
calculated for a saloon of pleasure and refreshment; but more resembling
a Turkish kiosk than an English tavern. On the ground floor, which is of
an oblong form and very spacious, are a number of divisions enclosed on
each side with rich damask curtains, having each a table and seats for
the reception of supper or drinking parties; at the extreme end,
and ~206~~ on each side, mirrors of unusual large dimensions give an
infinity of perspective, which greatly increases the magnificence of the
place. In the centre of the room are pedestals supporting elegant vases
filled with choice exotics. A light and tasteful trellis-work surrounds
a gallery above, which forms a promenade round the room, the walls being
painted to resemble a conservatory, in which the most luxuriant shrubs
are seen spreading their delightful foliage over a spacious dome, from
the centre of which is suspended a magnificent chandelier. Here are
placed, at stated distances, rustic tables, for the accommodation of
those who choose coffee and tea; and leading from this, on each side,
are several little snug private boudoirs for select parties, perfectly
secure from the prying eye of vulgar curiosity, and where only the
privileged few are ever permitted to enter. It was in this place,
surrounded by well-known Greeks, with whom he appeared to be on the
most intimate terms, that Transit pointed out to my notice the eccentric
Vicar of K**, the now invisible author of L****, whose aphorisms and
conduct bear not the slightest affinity to each other--nor was he the
only clerical present; at the head of a jolly party, at an adjoining
table, sat the ruby-faced Parson John A-----e, late proprietor of the
notorious Gothic Hall, in Pall Mall, a man of first rate wit and talent,
but of the lowest and most depraved habits. "The Divine is a character"
said Bob, "who, according to the phraseology of the ring, is 'good at
every thing:' as he came into the world without being duly licensed, so
he thinks himself privileged to pursue the most unlicensed conduct in
his passage through it. As a specimen of his ingenuity in horse-dealing,
I'll give you an anecdote.--It is not long since that the parson invited
a party of bucks to dinner, at his snug little villa on the banks of the
Thames, near Richmond, in Surrey. Previous to the repast, the reverend
~207~~ led his visitors forth to admire the gardens and surrounding
scenery, when just at the moment they had reached the outer gate, a fine
noble-looking horse was driven past in a tilbury by a servant in a
smart livery.--'What a magnificent animal!' said the parson; 'the finest
action I ever beheld in my life: there's a horse to make a man's fortune
in the park, and excite the envy and notice of all the town.' 'Who does
he belong to?' said a young baronet of the party, who had just come out.
'I'll inquire,' said the parson: 'the very thing for you, Sir John.'
Away posts the reverend, bawling after the servant, 'Will your master
sell that horse, my man?' 'I can't say, sir,' said the fellow, 'but I
can inquire, and let you know.' 'Do, my lad, and tell him a gentleman
here will give a handsome price for him.' Away trots the servant, and
the party proceed to dinner. As soon as the dessert is brought in, and
the third glass circulated, the conversation is renewed relative to the
horse--the whole party agree in extolling his qualities; when, just in
the nick of time, the servant arrives to say his master being aged
and infirm, the animal is somewhat too spirited for him, and if the
gentleman likes, he may have him for one hundred guineas. 'A mere
trifle,' vociferates the company. 'Cheap as Rivington's second-hand
sermons,' said the parson. The baronet writes a check for the money, and
generously gives the groom a guinea for his trouble--drives home in high
glee--and sends his servant down next morning to the parson's for his
new purchase--orders the horse to be put into his splendid new tilbury,
built under the direction of Sir John Lade--just reaches Grosvenor-gate
from Hamilton-place in safety, when the horse shows symptoms of being a
miller. Baronet, nothing daunted, touches him smartly under the flank,
when up he goes on his fore-quarters, smashes the tilbury into ten
thousand pieces, bolts away with the traces and shafts, and leaves
the baronet with a broken head ~208~~ on one side of the road, and his
servant with a broken arm on the other. 'Where the devil did you get
that quiet one from, Sir John!' said the Honourable Fitzroy St-----e,
whom the accident had brought to the spot.
'The parson bought him of an old gentleman at Richmond yesterday for
me.' 'Done, brown as a berry,' said Fitzroy: 'I sold him only on
Saturday last to the reverend myself for twenty pounds as an incurable
miller. Why the old clerical's turned coper{1}--;a new way of raising the
wind--letting his friends down easy--gave you a good dinner, I suppose,
Sir John, and took this method of drawing the bustle{2} for it: an old
trick of the reverend's.' After this it is hardly necessary to say, the
servant was a confederate, and the whole affair nothing more or less
than a true orthodox farce of horse chaunting,{3} got up for the express
purpose of raising a temporary supply."{4}
1 A horse-dealer.
2 Money.
3 Tricking persons into the purchase of unsound or vicious
horses.
4 A practice by no means uncommon among a certain
description of dashing characters, who find chaunting a
horse to a green one, a snug accidental party at chicken
hazard, or a confederacy to entrap some inexperienced bird
of fashion, where he may be plucked by Greek banditti, pay
exceedingly well for these occasional dinner parties.
At this moment our attention was engaged by the entrance of a party of
exquisites and elegantes, dressed in the very extreme of opera costume,
who directed their steps to the regions above us. "I'll bet a hundred,"
said the honourable, "I know that leg," eyeing a divine little foot and
a finely turned ankle that was just then discernible from beneath a rich
pink drapery, as the possessor ascended the gallery of the conservatory,
lounging on the arm of the Irish Earl of C------; " the best leg in
England, and not a bad figure for an ancient," continued Lionise: "that
is the celebrated Mrs. Bertram, alias Bang--everybody ~209~~ knows Bang;
that is, every body in the fashionable world. She must have been a most
delightful creature when she first came out, and has continued longer in
bloom than any of the present houris of the west; but I forgot you were
fresh, and only in training, Heartly--I must introduce you to Bang: you
will never arrive at any eminence among the haut classe unless you can
call these beauties by name." "And who the deuce is Bang?" said I: "not
that elegantly-dressed female whom I see tripping up the gallery stairs
yonder, preceded by several other delightful faces." "The same, my dear
fellow: a fallen star, to be sure, but yet a planet round whose
orbit move certain other little twinkling luminaries whose attractive
glimmerings are very likely to enlighten your obscure sentimentality.
Bang was the daughter of a bathing-woman at Brighton, from whence she
eloped early in life with a navy lieutenant-has since been well known as
a dasher of the first water upon the pave--regularly sports her carriage
in the drive--and has numbered among her protectors, at various times,
the Marquis W------, Lord A------, Colonel C------, and, lastly, a
descendant of the mighty Wallace, who, in an auto-biographical sketch,
boasts of his intimacy with this fascinating cyprian. She has, however,
one qualification, which is not usually found among those of her
class--she has had the prudence to preserve a great portion of her
liberal allowances, and is now perfectly independent of the world.
We must visit one of her evening parties in the neighbourhood of
Euston-square, when she invites a select circle of her professional
sisters to a ball and supper, to which entertainment her male visitors
are expected to contribute liberally. She has fixed upon the earl, I
should think, more for the honour of the title than with any pecuniary
hopes, his dissipation having left him scarce enough to keep up
appearances." "The amiable who precedes her," said I, "is of the same
class, I ~210~~ presume--precisely, and equally notorious." "That is
the celebrated Mrs. L------, better known as Moll Raffle, from the
circumstance of her being actually raffled for, some years since, by the
officers of the seventh dragoons, when they were quartered at Rochester:
like her female friend, she is a woman of fortune, said to be worth
eighteen hundred per annum, with which she has recently purchased
herself a Spanish cavalier for a husband. A curious anecdote is related
of Moll and her once kind friend, the Marquis of W--------, who is said
to have given her a bond for seven thousand pounds, on a certain great
house, not a mile from Hyde-park corner, which he has since assigned
to a fortunate general, the present possessor; who, thinking his title
complete, proceeded to take possession, but found his entry disputed by
the lady, to whom he was eventually compelled to pay the forfeiture of
the bond. Come along, my boy," said Lionise; "I'll introduce you at
once to the whole party, and then you can make your own selection." "Not
at present: I came here for general observation, not private intrigue,
and must confess I have seldom found a more diversified scene."
"I beg pardon, gentlemen," said an easy good-looking fellow, with
something rather imposing in his manner--"Shall I intrude here?--will
'you permit me to take a seat in your box?" "By all means," replied
I; Bob, at the same moment, pressing his elbow into my side, and the
exquisite raising his glass very significantly to his eye, the stranger
continued--"A very charming saloon this, gentlemen, and the company
very superior to the general assemblage at such places: my friend, the
Earl of C------, yonder, I perceive, amorously engaged; Lord P------,
too, graces the upper regions with the delightful Josephine: really this
is quite the cafe royal of London; the accommodation, too, admirable--not
merely confined to refreshments; I am told there are excellent billiard
~211~~ tables, and snug little private rooms for a quiet rubber, or a
little chicken hazard. Do you play, gentlemen? very happy to set you for
a main or two, by way of killing time." That one word, play, let me
at once into the secret of our new acquaintance's character, and fully
explained the distant reception and cautious bearing of my associates.
My positive refusal to accommodate produced a very polite bow, and the
party immediately retired to reconnoitre among some less suspicious
visitants. "A nibble," said Transit, "from an ivory turner."{5} "By
the honour of my ancestry," said Lionise, "a very finished sharper;
I remember Lord F------ pointing him out to me at the last Newmarket
spring meeting, when we met him, arm in arm, with a sporting
baronet. What the fellow was, nobody knows; but he claims a military
title--captain, of course--perhaps has formerly held a lieutenancy in a
militia regiment: he now commands a corps of sappers on the Greek staff,
and when he honoured us with a call just now was on the recruiting
service, I should think; but our friend, Heartly, here, would not stand
drill, so he has marched off on the forlorn hope, and is now, you may
perceive, concerting some new scheme with a worthy brother touter,{6}
who is on the half pay of the British army, and receives full pay in
the service of the Greeks. We must make a descent into hell some night,"
said Transit, "and sport a few crowns at roulette or rouge et noir,
to give Heartly his degree. We shall proceed regularly upon college
principles, old fellow: first, we will visit the Little Go in
King-street, and then drop into the Great Go, alias Watiers, in
Piccadilly; after which we can sup in Crockford's pandemonium among
parliamentary pigeons, unfledged
5 A tats man, a proficient with the bones, one who knows
every chance upon the dice.
6 A decoy, who seduces the young or inexperienced to the
gaming table, and receives a per centage upon their losses.
~212~~ ensigns of the guards, broken down titled legs, and ci-devant
bankers, fishmongers, and lightermen; and here comes the very fellow
to introduce us--an old college chum, Charles Rattle, who was expelled
Brazennose for smuggling, and who has since been pretty well plucked by
merciless Greek banditti and Newmarket jockeys, but who bears his losses
with the temper of a philosopher, and still pursues the destructive vice
with all the infatuation of the most ardent devotee." "How d'ye do,
old fellows?--how d'ye do? Who would have thought to have met the
philosopher (pointing to me) at such a place as this, among the impures
of both sexes, legs and leg-ees? Come to sport a little blunt with the
table or the traders, hey! Heartly? Always suspected you was no puritan,
although you wear such a sentimental visage. Well, old fellows, I am
glad to see you, however,--come, a bottle of Champagne, for I have just
cast off all my real troubles--had a fine run of luck to-night--broke the
bank, and bolted with all the cash. Just in the nick of time-off for
Epsom to-morrow--double my bets upon the Derby, and if the thing comes
off right, I'll give somebody a thousand or two to tie me up from
playing again above five pounds stakes as long as I live. The best thing
you ever heard in your life--a double to do. Ned C-----d having heard I
had just received a few thousands, by the sale of the Yorkshire acres,
planned it with Colonel T----- to introduce me to the new club, where a
regular plant was to be made, by some of his myrmidons, to clear me out,
by first letting me win a few thousands, when they were to pounce upon
me, double the stakes, and finish me off in prime style, fleecing me out
of every guinea--very good-trick and tie, you know, is fair play--and
for this very honest service, my friend, the colonel, was to receive a
commission, or per centage, in proportion to my losses: the very last
man in the world that the old pike could ~213~~ have baited for in that
way--the colonel's down a little, to be sure, but not so low as to turn
confederate to a leg--so suppressed his indignation at the
proposition, and lent himself to the scheme, informing me of the whole
circumstances--well, all right--we determined to give the old one
a benefit--dined with him to-day--a very snug party--devilish good
dinner--superb wines--drank freely--punished his claret--and having
knocked about Saint Hugh's bones{7} until I was five thousand in pocket,
politely took my leave, without giving the parties their revenge. Never
saw a finer scene in the course of my life-such queer looks, and long
faces, and smothered wailings when they found themselves done by a brace
of gudgeons, whom they had calculated upon picking to the very bones!
Come, old fellows, a toast: Here's Fishmonger's Hall, and may every
suspected gudgeon prove a shark."
The bottle now circulated freely, and the open-hearted Rattle delighted
us with the relation of some college anecdotes, which I shall reserve
for a hearty laugh when we meet. The company continued to increase
with the appearance of morning; and here might be seen the abandoned
profligate, with his licentious female companion, completing the
night's debauch by the free use of intoxicating liquors--the ruined
spendthrift, fresh from the gaming-table, loudly calling for wine, to
drown the remembrance of his folly, and abusing the drowsy waiter only
to give utterance to his irritated feelings. In a snug corner might be
seen a party of sober, quiet-looking gentlemen, taking their lobster and
bucellas, whose first appearance would impress you with the belief of
their respectability, but whom, upon inquiry, you would discover to be
Greek banditti, retired hither to divide their ill gotten spoils. It was
among a party of this description that Rattle pointed out a celebrated
writer, whose lively style and accurate description of
7 Saint Hugh's bones, a cant phrase for dice.
~214~~ men and manners display no common mind. Yet here he was seen
associated with the most depraved of the human species--the gambler by
profession, the common cheat! What wonder that such connexions should
have compelled him for a time to become an exile to his country, and on
his return involved him in a transaction that has ended in irretrievable
ruin and disgrace? "By the honour of my ancestry," said Lionise,
"yonder is that delectable creature, old Crony, the dinner many that
is the most surprising animal we have yet found among the modern
discoveries--polite to and point--always well dressed--keeps the best
society--or, I should say, the best society keeps him: to an amazing fund
of the newest on dits and anecdotes of ton, always ready cut and dried,
he joins a smattering of the classics, and chops logic with the learned
that he may carve their more substantial fare gratis; has a memory
tenacious as a chief judge on matter of invitation, and a stomach
capacious as a city alderman in doing honour to the feast; pretends to
be a connoisseur in wines, although he never possessed above one bottle
at a time in his cellaret, I should think, in the whole course of his
life; talks about works of art and virtu as if Sir Joshua Reynolds had
been his nurse--Claude his intimate acquaintance--or Praxiteles his
great great grandfather. The fellow affects a most dignified contempt
for the canaille, because, in truth, they never invite him to dinner--is
on the free list of all the theatres, from having formerly been freely
hiss'd upon their boards--a retired tragedy king on a small pension, with
a republican stomach, who still enacts the starved apothecary at home,
from penury, and liberally crams his voracious paunch, stuffing like
Father Paul, when at the table of others. With these habits, he has just
managed to scrape together some sixty pounds per annum, upon which, by
good management, he contrives to live like an emperor; for instance, he
keeps a regular book of ~215 invitations, numbers his friends according
to the days of the year, and divides and subdivides them in accordance
with their habits and pursuits, so that an unexpected invitation
requires a reference to his journal: if you invite him for Saturday
next, he will turn to his tablets, apologise for a previous engagement,
run his eye eagerly down the column for an occasional absentee, and
then invite himself for some day in the ensuing week, to which your
politeness cannot fail to accede. You will meet him in London, Brighton,
Bath, Cheltenham, and Margate during the fashionable periods; at all
of which places he has his stated number of dinner friends, where his
presence is as regularly looked for as the appearance of the swallow.
Among the play men he is useful as a looker on, to make one at the table
when they are thin of customers, or to drink a young one into a proper
state for plucking: in other society he coins compliments for the fair
lady of the mansion, extols his host's taste and good fellowship at
table, tells a smutty story to amuse the _bon vivants_ in their cups, or
recites a nursery rhyme to send the children quietly to bed; and in this
manner Crony manages to come in for a good dinner every day of his
life. Call on him for a song, and he'll give you, what he calls, a free
translation of a Latin ode, by old Walter de Mapes, Archdeacon of Oxford
in the eleventh century, a true _gourmands_ prayer--
1 Mihi est propositum in taberna mon.'
I'll try and hum you Crony's English version of the
CANTILENA.
'I'll in a tavern end my days, midst boon companions merry,
Place at my lips a lusty flask replete with sparkling sherry,
That angels, hov'ring round, may cry, when I lie dead as door-nail,
'Rise, genial deacon, rise, and drink of the well of life eternal.'
*****
~216~~
'Various implements belong to ev'ry occupation;
Give me an haunch of venison--and a fig for inspiration!
Verses and odes without good cheer, I never could indite 'em;
Sure he who meagre, days devised is d-----d ad infinitum!
*****
'Mysteries and prophetic truths, I never could unfold 'em
Without a flagon of good wine and a slice of cold ham;
But when I've drained my liquor out, and eat what's in the dish up,
Though I am but an arch-deacon, I can preach like an arch-
bishop.'"
"A good orthodox ode," said Transit, "and admirably suited to the
performer, who, after all, it must be allowed, is a very entertaining
fellow, and well worthy of his dinner, from the additional amusement he
affords. I remember meeting him in company with the late Lord Coleraine,
the once celebrated Colonel George Hanger, when he related an anecdote
of the humorist, which his lordship freely admitted to be founded on
fact. As I have never seen it in print, or heard it related by any one
since, you shall have it instanter: It is well known that our present
laughter-loving monarch was, in earlier years, often surrounded, when in
private, by a coruscation of wit and talent, which included not only the
most distinguished persons in the state, but also some celebrated bon
vivants and amateur vocalists, among whom the names of the Duke of
Orleans, Earl of Derby, Charles James Fox, Richard Brinsley Sheridan,
the facetious poet laureat to the celebrated Beefsteak club, Tom
Hewardine, Sir John Moore, Mr Brownlow, Captain Thompson, Bate Dudley,
Captain Morris, and Colonel George Hanger, formed the most conspicuous
characters at the princely anacreontic board. But
'Who would be grave--when wine can save
The heaviest soul from thinking,
And magic grapes give angel's shapes
To every girl we're drinking!'
~217~~ It was on one of these festive occasions, when whim, and wit, and
sparkling wine combined to render the festive scene the 'Feast of reason
and the flow of soul,' that the Prince of Wales invited himself and
his brother, the Duke of York, to dine with George Hanger. An honour
so unlooked for, and one for which George was so little prepared (as he
then resided in obscure lodgings near Soho-square), quite overpowered
the Colonel, who, however, quickly recovering his surprise, assured
his royal highness of the very high sense he entertained of the honour
intended him, but lamented it was not in his power to receive him, and
his illustrious brother, in a manner suitable to their royal dignity.
'You only wish to save your viands, George,' said the prince: 'we shall
certainly dine with you on the day appointed; and whether you reside on
the first floor or the third, never mind--the feast will not be the less
agreeable from the altitude of the apartment, or the plainness of the
repast.' Thus encouraged, George was determined to indulge in a joke
with his royal visitors. On the appointed day, the prince and duke
arrived, and were shown up stairs to George's apartments, on the second
floor, where a very tasteful banquet was set out, but more distinguished
by neatness than splendour: after keeping his illustrious guests waiting
a considerable period beyond the time agreed on, by way of sharpening
their appetites, the prince good-humouredly inquired what he meant to
give them for dinner?' Only one dish,' said George; 'but that one will,
I flatter myself, be a novelty to my royal guests, and prove highly
palatable.' 'And what may that be?' said the prince. 'The wing of a
wool-bird,' replied the facetious colonel. It was in vain the prince
and duke conjectured what this strange title could import, when George
appeared before them with a tremendous large red baking dish, ~218~~
smoking hot, in which was supported a fine well-browned shoulder of
mutton, dropping its rich gravy over some crisp potatoes. The prince and
his brother enjoyed the joke amazingly, and they have since been heard
to declare, they never ate a heartier meal in their life, or one (from
its novelty to them in the state in which it was served up), which they
have relished more. George had, however, reserved a _bonne bouche_, in a
superb dessert and most exquisite wines, for which the prince had heard
he was famous, and which was, perhaps, the principal incitement to the
honour conferred."
After a night spent in the utmost hilarity, heightened by the vivacity
and good-humour of my associates, to which might be added, the full
gratification of my prevailing _penchant_ for the observance of
character, we were on the point of departing, when Transit, ever on the
alert in search of variety, observed a figure whom (in his phrase) he
had long wished to book; in a few moments a sketch of this eccentric
personage was before us. "That is the greatest original we have yet
seen," said our friend Bob: "he is now in the honourable situation of
croupier to one of the most notorious hells in the metropolis. This poor
devil was once a master tailor of some respectability, until getting
connected with a gang of sharpers, he was eventually fleeced of all
his little property: his good-natured qualifications, and the harmless
pleasantries with which he abounds, pointed him out as a very proper
person to act as a confederate to the more wealthy legs; from a pigeon
he became a bird of prey, was enlisted into the corps, and regularly
initiated into all the diabolical mysteries of the black art. For some
time he figured as a decoy upon the town, dressed in the first style of
fashion, and driving an unusually fine horse and elegant Stanhope, until
a circumstance, arising out of a ~219~~ joke played off upon him by his
companions, when in a state of intoxication, made him so notorious,
that his usefulness in that situation was entirely frustrated, and,
consequently, he has since been employed within doors, in the more
sacred mysteries of the Greek temple. The gentleman I mean is yonder,
with the Joliffe tile and sharp indented countenance: his real name is
B------; but he has now obtained the humorous cognomen of 'The subject'
from having been, while in a state of inebriety, half stripped, put
into a sack, and in this manner conveyed to the door of Mr. Brooks, the
celebrated anatomist in Blenheim-street, by a hackney night-coachman,
who was known to the party as the resurrection Jarvey. On his being
deposited in this state at the lecturer's door, by honest Jehu, who
offered him for sale, the surgeon proceeded to examine his subject,
when, untying the sack, he discovered the man was breathing: 'Why, you
scoundrel,' said the irritable anatomist, 'the man's not dead.' 'Not
dead!' re-echoed coachee, laughing at the joke, 'Why, then, kill him
when you want him!' The consequence of this frolic had, however, nearly
proved more serious than the projectors anticipated: the anatomist,
suspecting it was some trick to enter his house for burglarious
purposes, gave the alarm, when Jarvey made his escape; but poor
B------was secured, and conveyed the next morning to Marlborough-street,
where it required all the ingenuity of a celebrated Old Bailey solicitor
to prevent his being committed for the attempt to rob a bonehouse."
After this anecdote, we all agreed to separate. Transit would fain
have led us to the Covent-garden finish, which he describes as being
unusually rich in character; but this was deferred until another night,
when I shall introduce you to some new acquaintances.--Adieu. Lady Mary
Oldstyle and the D'Almaine family are off to-morrow for Brighton, from
which place expect some few descriptive sketches.
Horatio Heartly.
[Illustration: page220]
THE SPREAD,{1} OR WINE PARTY AT BRAZEN-NOSE.
~220~~
"Hear, Momus, hoar! blithe sprite, whose dimpling cheek
Of quips, and cranks ironic, seems to speak,
Who lovest learned victims, and whose shrine
Groans with the weight of victims asinine.
Nod with assent! thy lemon juice infuse!
Though of male sex, I woo thee for a Muse."
_A College Wine Party described--Singular Whim of Horace
Eglantine--Meeting of the Oxford Crackademonians--Sketches
of eccentric Characters, drawn from the Life--The Doctor's
Daughter--An old Song--A Round of Sculls--Epitaphs on the
Living and the Dead--Tom Tick, a College Tale--The Voyagers
--Notes and Anecdotes._
A college wine party I could very well conceive from the specimen I
had already of my companion's frolicsome humours, was not unlikely to
produce some departure from college rules which might eventually involve
me in _rustication, fine_, or _imposition_. To avoid it was impossible;
it was the first invitation of an early friend, and must be obeyed. The
anticipation of a bilious head-ache on the morrow, or perhaps a first
appearance before, or lecture from, the vice-chancellor, principal, or
proctor, made me somewhat tardy in my appearance at the _spread_. The
butler was just marching a second
1 A spread. A wine party of from thirty to one hundred and
twenty persons. The party who gives the spread generally
invites all the under-graduates he is acquainted with; a
dessert is ordered either from Jubber's, or Sadler's, for
the number invited, for which he is charged at per head.
~221~~ reinforcement of _black men, or heavy artillery_ from the college
magazine, across the quadrangle, for the use of the dignitaries' table;
when I, a poor solitary _freshman_, advanced with sentimental awe
and fearful stride beneath the arched entrance of Brazen-nose. Where
Eglantine's rooms were situated I had no means of knowing, his card
supplying only the name of his college; to make some inquiry would be
necessary, but of whom, not a creature but what appeared much too busily
employed, as they ran to and fro laden with wine and viands, to answer
the interrogatories of a stranger. I was on the point of retreating to
obtain the requisite information from the waiter at the Mitre, when old
Mark Supple made his appearance, with "Your servant, sir: I have
been in search of you at your inn, by command of Mr. Eglantine, _take
notice_--who with a large party of friends are waiting your company to
a _spread_." "A large party, Mark?" said I, suspecting there was some
secret drama in rehearsal, in which I was to play a principal part.
"A very large party, sir, and a very extraordinary one too, _take
notice_--such a collection as I never saw before within the walls of a
college--living curiosities, _take notice_--all the _comicals_ of
Oxford brought together,{2} and this 2 This adventure, strange as it
may appear, actually occurred a short time since, when Mr. J*****n of
Brazen-nose invited the characters here named to an entertainment in the
College. Sir Richard Steele, when on a visit to Edinburgh, indulged in
a similar freak: he made a splendid feast, and whilst the servants were
wondering for what great personages it was intended, he sent them into
the streets, to collect all the eccentrics, beggars, and poor people,
that chance might throw in their way, and invite them to his house.
A pretty large party being mustered, they were well plied with
whiskey-punch and wine; when, forgetting their cares, and free from
all restraint, they gave loose to every peculiarity of their respective
characters. When the entertainment was over, Sir Richard declared, that
besides the pleasure of filling so many hungry bellies, and enjoying an
hour of rich amusement, he had gleaned from them humour enough to form a
good comedy, or at least a farce.
THE SPREAD, OR WINE PARTY AT BRAZEN-NOSE 223
is what Mr. Eglantine calls his _museum of character_, but which I
should call a _regiment of caricatures, take notice_--but I heard him
say, that he had invited them on purpose to surprise you; that he knew
you was fond of eccentricity, and that he thought he had prepared a
great treat. I only wish he may get rid of them as easily as he brought
them there, for if the bull-dogs should gain scent of them there
would be a pretty row, _take notice_." Mark's information, instead of
producing the alarm he evidently anticipated, had completely dispelled
all previous fears, and operated like the prologue to a rich comedy,
from which I expected to derive considerable merriment: following,
therefore, my conductor up one flight of stairs on the opposite side of
the space from which I had entered, I found myself at the closed _oak_
of my friend. "Mr. Eglantine is giving them a _chaunt_" said Mark, who
had applied his ear to the key-hole of the door: "we must wait till the
song is over, or you will be fined in a double bumper of _bishop_, for
interrupting the _stave, take notice_." Curiosity prompted me to
follow Mark's example, when I overheard Horace chanting part of an old
satirical ballad on John Wilkes, to the tune of the Dragon of Wantley;
commencing with--
And ballads I have heard rehearsed By harmonists itinerant, Who modern
worthies celebrate, Yet scarcely make a dinner on't. Some of whom sprang
from noble race, And some were in a pig-sty born, Dependent upon royal
grace Or triple tree of Tyburn.
CHORUS. John Wilkes he was for Middlesex, They chose him knight of the
shire: He made a fool of alderman Bull, And call'd parson Home a liar.
~224~~ The moment silence was obtained, old Mark gave three distinct
knocks at the door, when Horace himself appeared, and we were
immediately admitted to the temple of the Muses; where, seated round a
long table, appeared a variety of characters that would have rivalled
(from description) the Beggars' Club in St. Giles's--the Covent-Garden
Finish--or the once celebrated Peep o' day boys in Fleet-lane. At the
upper end of the table were Tom Echo and Bob Transit, the first smoking
his cigar, the second sketching the portraits of the motley group around
him on the back of his address cards; at the lower end of the room, on
each side of the chair from which Eglantine had just risen to welcome
me, sat little Dick Gradus, looking as knowing as an Old Bailey counsel
dissecting a burglary case, and the honourable Lillyman Lionise, the
Eton _exquisite_, looking as delicate and frightened as if his whole
system of ethics was likely to be revolutionized by this night's
entertainment. To such a society a formal introduction was of course
deemed essential; and this favour Horace undertook by recommending me
to the particular notice of the _crackademonians_ (as he was pleased to
designate the elegant assemblage by whom we were then surrounded),
in the following oration: "Most noble _cracks_, and worthy cousin
_trumps_--permit me to introduce a brother of the _togati, fresh_ as
a new-blown rose, and innocent as the lilies of St. Clement's. Be unto
him, as ye have been to all gownsmen from the beginning, ever ready
to promote his wishes, whether for spree or sport, in term or out of
term--against the _Inquisition_ and their _bull-dogs_--the town _raff_
and the _bargees_--well _blunted or stiver cramped_--against _dun or
don--nob or big wig_--so may you never want a bumper of _bishop_: and
thus do I commend him to your merry keeping." "Full charges, boys,"
said Echo, "fill up their glasses, Count Dennett{3}; 3 Count Dennett,
hair-dresser at Corpus and Oriel Colleges, a very eccentric man, who
has saved considerable property; celebrated for making bishops' wigs,
playing at cribbage, and psalm-singing.
~225~~Here's Brother Blackmantle of Brazen-nose." "A speech, a speech!"
vociferated all the party. "Yes, worthy brother _cracks_," replied I,
"you shall have a speech, the very acme of oratory; a brief speech,
composed by no less a personage than the great Lexicographer himself,
and always used by him on such occasions at the club in Ivy-lane. Here's
all your healths, and _Esto perpetua_." "Bravo!" said Eglantine;" the
boy improves. Now a toast, a university lass--come, boys, The Doctor's
Daughter; and then a song from Crotchet C--ss."{4}
BURTON ALE.
AN ANCIENT OXFORD DITTY.
Of all the belles who Christ Church bless,
None's like the doctor's daughter{5};
Who hates affected squeamishness
Almost as much as water.
Unlike your modern dames, afraid
Of Bacchus's caresses;
She far exceeds the stoutest maid
Of excellent queen Bess's.
Hers were the days, says she, good lack,
The days to drink and munch in;
When butts of Burton, tuns of sack,
Wash'd down an ox for luncheon.
Confound your _nimpy-pimpy_ lass,
Who faints and fumes at liquor;
Give me the girl that takes her glass
Like Moses and the vicar.
4 Mr. C--ss, otherwise Crotchet C--ss, bachelor of music,
and organist of Christ Church College, St. John's College,
and St. Mary's Church. An excellent musician, and a jolly
companion: he published, some time since, a volume of
chants.
5 A once celebrated university toast, with whose
eccentricities we could fill a volume; but having received
an intimation that it would be unpleasant to the lady's
feelings, we gallantly forbear.
~226~~
True emblem of immortal ale,
So famed in British lingo;
Stout, beady, and a little _stale_--
Long live the Burton stingo!
"A vulgar ditty, by my faith," said the exquisite, "in the true English
style, all _fol de rol_, and a vile chorus to split the tympanum of
one's auricular organs: do, for heaven's sake, Echo, let us have
some _divertissement_ of a less boisterous character." "Agreed," said
Eglantine, winking at Echo; "we'll have a _round of sculls_. Every man
shall sing a song, write a poetical epitaph on his right hand
companion, or drink off a double dose of rum booze."{6} "Then I shall
be confoundedly _cut_," said Dick Gradus, "for I never yet could chant a
stave or make a couplet in my life." "And I protest against a practice,"
said Lionise, "that has a tendency to trifle with one's _transitory
tortures_." "No appeal from the chair," said Eglantine: "another bumper,
boys; here's The Fair _Nuns of St. Clement's_." "To which I beg leave to
add," said Echo, "by way of rider, their favourite pursuit, _The Study
of the Fathers_." By the time these toasts had been duly honoured, some
of the party displayed symptoms of being _moderately cut_, when Echo
commenced by reciting his epitaph on his next friend, Bob Transit:--
Here rests a wag, whose pencil drew
Life's characters of varied hue,
Bob Transit--famed in humour's sphere
For many a transitory year.
Though dead, still in the "English Spy"
He'll live for ever to the eye.
Here uncle White{7} reclines in peace,
Secure from nephew and from niece.
6 Rum booze--Flip made of white or port wine, the yolks of
eggs, sugar and nutmeg.
7 Uncle White, a venerable bed-maker of All Souls' College,
eighty-three years of age; has been in the service of the
college nearly seventy years: is always dressed in black,
and wears very largo silver knee and shoe-buckles; his hair,
which is milk-white, is in general tastefully curled: he is
known "to, and called uncle by, every inhabitant of the
university, and obtained the cog-nomen from his having an
incredible number of nephews and nieces in Oxford. In
appearance he somewhat resembles a clergyman of the old
school.
~227~~
Of All-Souls' he, alive or dead;
Of milk-white name, the milk-white head.
By Uncle White.
Here lies Billy Chadwell,{8}
Who perform'd the duties of a dad well.
BY BILLY CHADWELL.
Ye maggots, now's your time to crow:
Old Boggy Hastings{9} rests below.
BY BOGGY HASTINGS.
A grosser man ne'er mix'd with stones
Than lies beneath--'Tis Figgy Jones.{10}
BY FIGGY JONES.
Here Marquis Wickens{11} lies incrust,
In clay-cold consecrated dust:
No more he'll brew, or pastry bake;
His sun is set--himself a cake.
8 Billy Chadwell, of psalm-singing notoriety, since dead;
would imitate syncope so admirably, as to deceive a whole
room full of company--in an instant he would become pale,
motionless, and ghastly as death; the action of his heart
has even appeared to be diminished: his sham fits, if
possible, exceeded his fainting. He was very quarrelsome
when in his cups; and when he had aggravated any one to the
utmost, to save himself from a severe beating would
apparently fall into a most dreadful fit, which never failed
to disarm his adversary of his rage, and to excite the
compassion of every by-stander.
9 Old Boggy Hastings supplies members of the university and
college servants who are anglers with worms and maggots.
10 Tommy J***s, alias Figgy Jones, an opulent grocer in the
High-street, and a common-councilman in high favour with the
lower orders of the freemen; a sporting character.
11 Marquis Wickens formerly a confectioner, and now a
common brewer. He accumulated considerable property as a
confectioner, from placing his daughters, who were pretty
genteel girls, behind his counter, where they attracted a
great many gownsmen to the shop. No tradesman ever gained a
fortune more rapidly than this man: as soon as he found
himself inde-pendent of the university, he gave up his shop,
bought the Sun Inn, built a brewhouse, and is now gaining as
much money by selling beer as he formerly did by
confectionery.
~228~~
BY MARQUIS WICKENS.
Ye _roues_ all, be sad and mute;
Who now shall cut the stylish suit?
_Buck_ Sheffield's{12 }gone--Ye Oxford men,
Where shall ye meet his like again?
BY BUCK SHEFFIELD.
MacLean{13} or _Tackle_, which you will,
In quiet sleeps beneath this hill.
Ye anglers, bend with one accord;
The stranger is no more abroad.
BY MACLEAN.
Here rests a punster, Jemmy Wheeler{14}
In wit and whim a wholesale dealer;
Unbound by care, he others bound,
And now lies gathered underground.
12 Sheffield, better known by the name of Buck Sheffield, a
master tailor and a member of the common council.
13 MacLean, an old bacchanalian Scotchman, better known by
the name of Tackle: a tall thin man, who speaks the broad
Scotch dialect; makes and mends fishing-tackle for members
of the university; makes bows and arrows for those who
belong to the Archery Society; is an indifferent musician,
occasionally amuses under-graduates in their apartments by
playing to them country dances and marches on the flute or
violin. He published his Life a short time since, in a thin
octavo pamphlet, entitled "The Stranger Abroad, or The
History of Myself," by MacLean.
14 Jemmy Wheeler of Magpie-lane, a bookbinder, of punning
celebrity; has published two or three excellent versified
puns in the Oxford Herald. He is a young man of good natural
abilities,
but unfortunately applies them occasionally to a loose purpose.
~229~~
BY JEMMY WHEELER.
A speedy-man, by nimble foe,
Lies buried in the earth below:
The Baron Perkins,{15} Mercury
To all the university.
Men of New College, mourn his fate,
Who _early_ died by drinking _late_.
BY BARON PERKINS.
Ye Oxford _duns_, you're done at last;
Here Smiler W----d{16} is laid fast.
No more his _oak_ ye need assail;
He's book'd inside a wooden jail.
BY SMILER W---- OF C---- COLLEGE.
A thing called exquisite rests here:
For human nature's sake I hope,
Without uncharitable trope,
'Twill ne'er among us more appear.
15 William Perkins, alias Baron Perkins, alias the Baron, a
very jovial watchman of Holywell, the New College speedy-
man,{*} and factotum to New College.
16 Mr. W----d, alias Smiler W----d, a commoner of
----. This gentleman is always laughing or smiling; is
long-winded, and consequently pestered with _duns_, who are
sometimes much chagrined by repeated disappointments; but
let them be ever so crusty, he never fails in laughing them
into a good humour before they leave his room.
It was over Smiler's oak in----, that some wag had printed
and stuck up the following notice:
Men traps and spring guns
Set here to catch _duns_.
* A _speedy-man_ at New College is a person employed to take
a letter to the master of Winchester school from the warden
of New College, acquaint-ing him that a fellowship or
scholarship is become vacant in the college, and requiring
him to send forthwith the next senior boy. The speedy-man
always performs his journey on foot, and within a given
time.
~230~~
BY LILLYMAN LIONISE.
Here rests a poet--heaven keep him quiet,
For when above he lived a life of riot;
Enjoy'd his joke, and drank his share of wine--
A mad wag he, one Horace Eglantine.{17}
The good old orthodox beverage now began to display its potent effects
upon the heads and understandings of the party. All restraint being
completely banished by the effect of the liquor, every one indulged
in their characteristic eccentricities. Dick Gradus pleaded his utter
incapability to sing or produce an impromptu rhyme, but was allowed to
substitute a prose epitaph on the renowned school-master of Magdalen
parish, Fatty T--b,{18} who lay snoring under the table. "It shall be
read over him in lieu of burial service," said Echo. "Agreed, agreed,"
vociferated all the party; and Jemmy
17 This whim of tagging rhymes and epitaphs, adopted by
Horace Eglantine, is of no mean authority. During the
convivial administration of Lord North, when the ministerial
dinners were composed of such men as the Lords Sandwich,
Weymouth, Thurlow, Richard Rigby, &c, various pleasantries
passed current for which the present time would be deemed
too refined. Among others, it was the whim of the day to
call upon each member, after the cloth was drawn, to tag a
rhyme to the name of his left hand neighbour. It was first
proposed by Lord Sandwich, to raise a laugh against the
facetious Lord North, who happened to sit next to a Mr.
Mellagen, a name deemed incapable of a rhyme. Luckily,
however, for Lord North, that gentleman had just informed
him of an accident that had befallen him near the pump in
Pall Mall; when, therefore, it came to his turn, he wrote
the following distich:--
Oh! pity poor Mr. Mellagen,
Who walking along Pall Mall,
Hurt his foot when down he fell,
And fears he won't get well again.
18 Fatty T----, better known as the sixpenny schoolmaster:
a little fat man, remarkable for his love of good living.
~231~~
Jumps,{19} the parish clerk of Saint Peter's, was instantly mounted on a
chair, at the head of the defunct schoolmaster, to recite the following
whim:--
Epitaph on a Glutton.
Beneath this table lie the remains of Fatty T***;
Who more than performed the duties of
An excellent eater, an unparalleled drinker, and
A truly admirable sleeper.
His stomach was as disinterested
As his appetite was good; so that
His impartial tooth alike chewed
The mutton of the poor,and
The turtle of the rich.
19 James James, alias Jemmy Jumps, alias the Oxford Caleb
Quotum, a stay-maker, and parish-clerk of Saint Peter le
Bailey--plays the violin to parties on water excursions,
attends public-house balls--is bellows-blower and factotum
at the music-room--attends as porter to the Philharmonic and
Oxford Choral Societies--is constable of the race-course
and race balls--a bill distributor and a deputy collector of
poor rates--calls his wife his _solio_. He often amuses his
companions at public-houses by reciting comic tales in
verse. A woman who had lost a relative desired Jemmy
Jumps to get a brick grave built. On digging up a piece
of ground which had not been opened for many years, he
discovered a very good brick grave, and, to his great joy,
also discovered that its occupant had long since mouldered
into dust. He cleaned the grave out, procured some reddle
and water, brushed the bricks over with it, and informed
the person that he had a most excellent _second-hand grave
to sell as good as new_, and if she thought it would suit
her poor departed friend, would let her have it at half the
price of a new one: this was too good an offer to be
rejected; but Jemmy found, on measuring the coffin, that his
second-hand grave was too short, and consequently was
obliged to dig the earth away from the end of the grave and
beat the bricks in with a beetle, before it would admit its
new tenant.
~232~~
He was a zealous opposer of the Aqua-_arian_ heresy,
A steady devourer of beef-steaks,
A stanch and devout advocate for _spiced bishop_,
A firm friend to Bill Holland's _double X_, and
An active disseminator of the bottle,
He was ever uneasy unless employed upon
The good things of this world; and
The interment of a _swiss_ or lion,
Or the dissolution of a pasty,
Was his great delight.
He died
Full of drink and victuals,
In the undiminished enjoyment of his digestive faculties,
In the forty-fifth year of his appetite.
The collegians inscribed this memento,
In perpetual remembrance of
His _pieous_ knife and fork.
"Very well for a _trencher_ man," said Horace; "now we must have a
recitation from Strasburg.{20} Come, you jolly old teacher of Hebrew,
mount the rostrum, and "give us a taste of your quality." "Ay, or by
heavens we'll baptize him with a bumper of bishop," said Echo. "For
conscience sake, mishter Echo, conshider vat it is you're about; I can
no more shpeek in English than I can turn Christian--I've drank so much
of your red port to-day as voud make anoder Red Sea." "Ay, and you shall
be drowned in it, you old _Sheenie_," said Tom, "if you don't give us a
speech." "A speech, a speech!" resounded from all
{20} Strasburg, an eccentric Jew, who gave lessons in Hebrew
to members of the university.
~233~~the yet living subjects of the party. "Veil, if I musht, I musht;
but I musht do it by shubstitute then; my old friend, Mark Supple
here, vill give you the history of Tom Tick." To this Echo assented, on
account of the allusions it bore to the Albanians, some of whom were of
the party. Old Mark, mounted on the chair at the upper end of the table,
proceeded with the tale.
[Illustration: page233]
THE OXFORD RAKE'S PROGRESS.
Tom was a tailor's heir,
A dashing blade,
Whose sire in trade
Enough had made,
By cribbage, short skirts, and little capes,
Long bills, and items for buckram, tapes,
Buttons, twist, and small ware;
Which swell a bill out so delightfully,
Or perhaps I should say frightfully,
~234~~
That is, if it related to myself.
Suffice it to be told
In wealth he roll'd,
And being a fellow of some spirit,
Set up his coach;
To 'scape reproach,
He put the tailor on the shelf,
And thought to make his boy a man of merit.
On old Etona's classic ground,
Tom's infant years in circling round
Were spent 'mid Greek and Latin;
The boy had parts both gay and bright,
A merry, mad, facetious sprite,
With heart as soft as satin.
For sport or spree Tom never lack'd;
A _con_{21} with all, his sock he crack'd
With _oppidan_ or gownsman:
Could _smug_ a sign, or quiz the _dame_,
Or row, or ride, or poach for game,
With _cads_, or Eton townsmen.
Tom's _admiral_ design'd,
Most dads are blind
To youthful folly,
That Tom should be a man of learning,
To show his parent's great discerning,
A parson rich and jolly.
To Oxford Tom in due time went,
Upon degree D.D. intent,
But more intent on ruin:
_A Freshman_, steering for the _Port of Stuff's_,{22}
Round _Isle Matricula_, and _Isthmus of Grace_,
Intent on living well and little doing.
Here Tom came out a dashing blood,
Kept Doll at Woodstock, and a stud
For hunting, race, or tandem;
Could _bag_ a proctor, _floor a raff_,
Or stifle e'en a _hull-dog's gaff_,
Get _bosky_, drive at random.
21 Eton phraseology--A friend.
22 Oxford phraseology--All these terms have been explained
in an earlier part of the work.
~235~~
[Illustration: page 235]
But long before the first term ended,
Tom was inform'd, unless he mended,
He'd better change his college.
Which said, the _Don_ was hobbling to the shelf
Where college butler keeps his book of _Battell_;
Tom nimbly ran, erased his name himself,
To save the scandal of the students' prattle.
In Oxford, be it known, there is a place
Where all the mad wags in disgrace
Retire to improve their knowledge;
The town _raff_ call it _Botany Bay_,
Its inmates _exiles, convicts_, and they say
Saint Alban takes the student refugees:
Here Tom, to 'scape _Point Non plus_, took his seat
After a _waste of ready_--found his feet
Safe on the shores of indolence and ease;
Here, 'mid choice spirits, in the _Isle of Flip_,
Dad's will, and _sapping_, valued not young _snip_;
Scapula, Homer, Lexicon, laid by,
Join'd the peep-of-day boys in full cry.{23}
A saving sire a sad son makes
This adage suits most modern rakes,
23 It was in the actual participation of these bacchanalian
orgies, during the latter days of Dr. W----y, the former
head of the Hall, when infirmities prevented his exercising
the necessary watchful-ness over the buoyant spirits
committed to his charge, that my friend Bob Transit and
myself were initiated into the mysteries of the Albanians.
The accompanying scene, so faithfully delineated by his
humorous pencil, will be fresh in the recollection of the
_choice spirits_ who mingled in the joyous revelry. To
particularise character would be to "betray the secrets of
the prison-house," and is besides wholly unnecessary, every
figure round the board being a portrait; kindred souls,
whose merrie laughter-loving countenances and jovial
propensities, will be readily recognised by every son of
_Alma Mater_ who was at Oxford during the last days of the
_beaux esprits_ of Alban Hall. (_See Plate_.) In justice to
the learned Grecian who now presides, it should be told,
that these scenes are altogether suppressed.
~236~~
And Tom above all others.
I should have told before, he was an only child,
And therefore privileged to be gay and wild,
Having no brothers,
Whom his example might mislead
Into extravagance, or deed
Ridiculous and foolish.
Three tedious years in Oxford spent,
In midnight brawl and merriment,
Tom bid adieu to college,
To cassock-robe of orthodox,
To construe and decline--the box,
Supreme in stable knowledge;
To dash on all within the ring,
Bet high, play deep, or rioting,
At Long's to sport his figure
In honour's cause, some small affair
Give modern bucks a finish'd air,
Tom pull'd the fatal trigger.
He kill'd his friend--but then remark,
His friend had kill'd another spark,
So 'twas but trick and tie.
The cause of quarrel no one knew,
Not even Tom,--away he flew,
Till time and forms of law,
To fashionable vices blind,
Excuses for the guilty find,
Call murder a _faux pas_.
The tinsell'd coat next struck his pride,
How dashing in the Park to ride
A cornet of dragoons;
Upon a charger, thorough bred,
To show off with a high plumed head,
The gaze of Legs and Spoons;
To rein him up in all his paces,
Then splash the passing trav'lers' faces,
And spur and caper by;
~237~~
Get drunk at mess, then sally out
To Lisle-street fair, or beat a scout,
Or black a waiter's eye.
Of all the clubs,--the Clippers, Screws,
The Fly-by-nights, Four Horse, and Blues,
The Daffy, Snugs, and Peep-o-day,
Tom's an elect; at all the Hells,
At Bolton-Row, with tip-top swells,
And Tat's men, deep he'd play.
His debts oft paid by Snyder's{24} pelf,
Who paid at last a debt himself,
Which all that live must pay.
Tom book'd{25} the old one snug inside,
Wore sables, look'd demure and sigh'd
Some few short hours away;
Till from the funeral return'd,
Then Tom with expectation burn'd
To hear his father's will:--
"Twice twenty thousand pounds in cash,"--
"That's prime," quoth Tom, "to cut a dash
"At races or a mill,"--
"All my leaseholds, house and plate,
My pictures and freehold estate,
I give my darling heir;
Not doubting but, as I in trade
By careful means this sum have made,
He'll double it with care."--
"Ay, that I will, I'll hit the nick,
Seven's the main,--here Ned and Dick
Bring down my blue and buff;
Take off the hatband, banish grief,
'Tis time to turn o'er a new leaf,
Sorrow's but idle stuff."
Fame, trumpet-tongued, Tom's wealth reports,
His name is blazon'd at the courts
Of Carlton and the Fives.
His equipage, his greys, his dress,
His polish'd self, so like _noblesse_,
"Is ruin's sure perquise."
24 Flash for tailor.
25 Screwed up in his coffin.
~238~~
Beau Brummell's bow had not the grace,
Alvanly stood eclipsed in face,
The _Roues_ all were mute,
So exquisite, so chaste, unique,
The mark for every Leg and Greek,
Who play the concave suit.{26}
At Almack's, paradise o' the West,
Tom's hand by prince and peer is press'd,
And fashion cries supreme.
His Op'ra box, and little quean,
To lounge, to see, and to be seen,
Makes life a pleasant dream.
Such dreams, alas! are transient light,
A glow of brightness and delight,
That wakes to years of pain.
Tom's round of pleasure soon was o'er,
And clam'rous _duns_ assail the door
When credit's on the wane.
His riches pay his folly's price,
And vanish soon a sacrifice,
Then friendly comrades fly;
His ev'ry foible dragg'd to light,
And faults (unheeded) crowd in sight,
Asham'd to show his face.
Beset by tradesmen, lawyers, _bums_,{21}
He sinks where fashion never comes,
A wealthier takes his place.
_Beat at all points, floor'd, and clean'd out_,
Tom yet resolv'd to brave it out,
36 Cards cut in a peculiar manner, to enable the Leg to
fleece his Pigeon securely.
27 "Persons employed by the sheriff to hunt and seize human
prey: they are always bound in sureties for the due
execution of their office, and thence are called _Bound
Bailiff's_, which the common people have corrupted into a
much more homely ex-pression--_to wit, Bum-Bailiffs or
Bums_."--l _Black Com_. 346.
~239~~
If die he must, die game.
Some few months o'er, again he strays
'Midst scenes of former halcyon days,
On other projects bent;
No more ambitious of a name,
Or mere unprofitable fame,
On gain he's now intent,
To deal a flush, or cog a die,
Or plan a deep confed'racy
To pluck a pigeon bare.
Elected by the Legs a brother,
His plan is to entrap some other
In Greeting's fatal snare.
Here for a time his arts succeed,
But vice like his, it is decreed,
Can never triumph long:
A noble, who had been his prey,
Convey'd the well cogg'd bones away,
Exposed them to the throng.
Now blown, "his occupation's" o'er,
Indictments, actions, on him pour,
His ill got wealth must fly;
And faster than it came, the law
Can fraud's last ill got shilling draw,
Tom's pocket soon drain'd dry.
Again at sea, a wreck, struck down,
By fickle fortune and the town,
Without the means to bolt.
His days in bed, for fear of Bums,
At night among the Legs he comes,
Who gibe him for a dolt.
He's cut, and comrades, one by one,
Avoid him as they would a dun.
Here finishes our tale--
Tom Tick, the life, the soul, the whim
Of courts and fashion when in trim,
Is left--
WAITING FOR BAIL.
~240~~
[Illustration: page240]
By the time old Mark Supple had finished his somewhat lengthy tale,
the major part of the motley group of eccentrics who surrounded us
were terribly cut: the garrulous organ of Jack Milburn was unable to
articulate a word; _Goose_ B----l, the gourmand, was crammed full, and
looked, as he lay in the arms of Morpheus, like a fat citizen on the
night of a lord mayor's dinner--a lump of inanimate mortality. In one
corner lay a poor little Grecian, papa Chrysanthus Demetriades, whom Tom
Echo had plied with bishop till he fell off his chair; Count Dennet was
safely deposited beside him; and old Will Stewart,{28} the poacher, was
just humming himself to sleep with the fag end of an old ballad as he
sat upon the ground
28 Portraits of the three last-mentioned eccentrics will be
found in page 245, sketched from the life.
~241~~
resting his back against the defunct Grecian. A diminutive little
cripple, Johnny Holloway, was sleeping between his legs, upon whose head
Tom had fixed a wig of immense size, crowned with an opera hat and a
fox's tail for a feather. "Now to bury the dead," said Eglantine; "let
in the lads, Mark." "Now we shall have a little sport, old fellows,"
said Echo: "come, Transit, where are your paints and brushes?" In a
minute the whole party were most industriously engaged in disfiguring
the objects around us by painting their faces, some to resemble
tattooing, while others were decorated with black eyes, huge mustachios,
and different embellishments, until it would have been impossible for
friend or relation to have recognised any one of their visages. This |
