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."