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
ceremony being completed, old Mark introduced a new collection of
worthies, who had been previously instructed for the sport; these were,
I found, no other than the well-known Oxford _cads_, Marston Will,
Tom Webb, Harry Bell, and Dick Rymal,{29} all out and outers, as Echo
reported, for a spree with the gown, who had been regaled at some
neighbouring public house by Eglantine, to be in readiness for the
wind-up of his eccentric entertainment; to the pious care of these
worthies were consigned the strange-looking mortals who surrounded
us. The plan was, I found, to carry them out quietly between two men,
deposit them in a cart which they had in waiting, and having taken them
to the water-side, place them in a barge and send them drifting down the
water in the night to Iffley, where their consternation on recovering
the next morning and strange appearance would be sure to create a source
of merriment both for the city and university. The instructions were
most punctually obeyed, and the amusement the freak afterwards afforded
the good people of Oxford will not very
29 Well-known sporting cads, who are always ready to do a
good turn for the _togati_, either for sport or spree.
~242~~quickly be forgotten. Thus ended the spread--and now having taken
more than my usual quantity of wine, and being withal fatigued by the
varied amusements of the evening, I would fain have retired to rest: but
this, I found, would be contrary to good fellowship, and not at all in
accordance with _college principles_. "We must have a spree" said Echo,
"by way of finish, the rum ones are all shipped off safely by this
time--suppose we introduce Blackmantle to our _grandmamma_, and the
pretty _Nuns_ of St. Clement's." "Soho, my good fellows," said Transit;
"we had better defer our visit in that direction until the night is
more advanced. The old don{30} of----, remember, celebrates the Paphian
mysteries in that quarter occasionally, and we may not always be able to
_shirk_ him as effectually as on the other evening, when Echo and myself
were snugly enjoying a _tete-a-tete_ with Maria B----and little Agnes
S----{31}; we accidentally caught a glimpse of _old Morality_ cautiously
toddling after the pious Mrs. A--ms, _vide-licet_ of arts,{32} a lady
who has been regularly matriculated at this university, and taken up her
degrees some years since. It was too rich a bit to lose, and although
at the risk of discovery, I booked it immediately _eo instunti. 'Exegi
monumentum aere perennius_'--and here it is."
30 We all must reverence dons; and I'm about
To talk of dons--irreverently I doubt.
For many a priest, when sombre evening gray
Mantles the sky, o'er maudlin bridge will stray--
Forget his oaths, his office, and his fame,
And mix in company I will not name.
_Aphrodisiacal Licenses_.
31 Paphian divinities in high repute at Oxford.
32 Pretty much in the same sense, probably, in which Moore's
gifted leman Fanny is by him designated Mistress of Arts.
And oh!--if a fellow like me
May confer a diploma of hearts,
With my lip thus I seal your degree,
My divine little Mistress of Arts.
For an account of Fan's proficiency in astronomy, ethics,
(not the Nicomachean), and eloquence, see Moore's Epistles,
vol. ii. p. 155.
~243~~
[Illustration: pge243]
"An excellent likeness, i'faith, is it," said Eglantine; whose eyes
twinkled like stars amid the wind-driven clouds, and whose half clipped
words and unsteady motion sufficiently evinced that he had paid due
attention to the old laws of potation. "There's nothing like the _cloth_
for comfort, old fellows; remember what a man of Christ Church wrote to
George Colman when he was studying for the law.
'Turn parson, Colman, that's the way to thrive;
Your parsons are the happiest men alive.
Judges, there are but twelve; and never more,
But stalls untold, and Bishops twenty-four.
Of pride and claret, sloth and venison full,
Yon prelate mark, right reverend and dull!
~244~~
He ne'er, good man, need pensive vigils keep
To preach his audience once a week to sleep;
On rich preferment battens at his ease,
Nor sweats for tithes, as lawyers toil for fees.'
If Colman had turned parson he would have had a bishoprick long since,
and rivalled that jolly old ancient Walter de Mapes. Then what an
honour he would have been to the church; no drowsy epistles spun out in
lengthened phrase,
'Like to the quondam student, named of yore,
Who with Aristotle calmly choked a boar;'
but true orthodox wit: the real light of grace would have fallen from
his lips and charmed the crowded aisle; the rich epigrammatic style,
the true creed of the churchman; no fear of canting innovations or
evangelical sceptics; but all would have proceeded harmoniously, ay, and
piously too--for true piety consists not in purgation of the body, but
in purity of mind. Then if we could but have witnessed Colman filling
the chair in one of our common rooms, enlivening with his genius, wit,
and social conversation the learned _dromedaries_ of the Sanctum, and
dispelling the habitual gloom of a College Hospitium, what chance would
the sectarians of Wesley, or the infatuated followers even of that
arch rhapsodist, Irving, have with the attractive eloquence and sound
reasoning of true wit?" "Bravo! bravo!"vociferated the party. "An
excellent defence of the church," said Echo, "for which Eglantine
deserves to be inducted to a valuable benefice; suppose we adjourn
before the college gates are closed, and install him under the Mitre." A
proposition that met with a ready acquiescence from all present.{33}
33 The genius of wit, mirth, and social enjoyment, can never
find more sincere worshippers than an Oxford wine-party
seated round the festive board; here the sallies of youth,
unchecked by care, the gaiety of hearts made glad with wine
and revelry, the brilliant flashes of genius, and the eye
beaming with delight, are found in the highest perfection.
The merits of the society to which the youthful aspirant for
fame and glory happens to belong often afford the embryo
poet the theme of his song. Impromptu parodies on old and
popular songs often add greatly to the enjoy-ment of the
convivial party. The discipline of the university prohibits
late hours; and the evenings devoted to enjoyment are not
often disgraced by excess.
[Illustration: page244]
~245~~
[Illustration: page245]
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 Gunsmen upon the Mitre--Evolutions of the
Assailants--Manoeuvres of the Proctors and Bull Dogs--
Perilous Condition of Blackmantle and his associates,
Eglantine, Echo, and Transit--Snug Retreat of Lionise--The
High-Street after the Battle--Origin of the Argotiers, and
Invention 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.
[Illustration: page247]
The clocks of Oxford were echoing each other in proclaiming the hour
of midnight, when Eglantine led the way by opening the door of his
_hospitium_ to descend into the quadrangle of Brazen-nose. "Steady,
steady, old fellows," said Horace; "remember the don on the
first-floor--hush, all be silent as the grave till you pass his oak."
"Let us _row_ him--let us fumigate the old fellow," said Echo; "this
is the night of purification, lads--bring some pipes, and a little
frankincense, Mark." And in this laudable ~247~~enterprise of blowing
asafoetida smoke through the don's key-hole the whole party were about
to be instantly engaged, when an accidental slip of Eglantine's spoiled
the joke. While in the act of remonstrating with his jovial companions
on the dangerous consequences attending detection, the scholar sustained
a fall which left him suddenly deposited against the oak of the
crabbed old Master of Arts, who inhabited rooms on the top of the lower
staircase; fortunately, the dignitary had on that evening carried home
more _liquor_ than _learning_ from the common room, and was at the time
of the accident almost as sound asleep as the original founder. "There
lies the domini of the feast," said Echo, "knocked down in true orthodox
style by the bishop--follow your leader, boys; and take care of your
craniums, or you may chance to get a few phreno-lo-lo-logi-cal
bu-lps--I begin to feel that hard study has somewhat impaired
my artic-tic-u-u-la-tion, but then I can always raise a
per-pendic-dic-u-u-lar, you see--always good at mathemat-tics. D--n
Aristotle, and the rest of the saints! say I: you see what comes of
being logical." All of which exultation over poor Eglantine's disaster,
Echo had the caution to make while steadying himself by keeping fast
hold of one of the balustrades on the landing; which that arch wag
Transit perceiving, managed to cut nearly through with a knife, and then
putting his foot against it sent Tom suddenly oft in a flying leap after
his companion, to the uproarious mirth of the whole party. By the time
our two friends had recovered their legs, we were all in marching order
for the Mitre; working in sinuosities along, for not one of the party
could have moved at right angles to any given point, or have counted six
street lamps without at least multiplying them to a dozen. In a word,
they were ripe for any spree, full of frolic, and bent on mischief;
witness the piling a huge load of coals ~248~~against one man's door,
screwing up the oak of another, and _milling the glaze_ of a third,
before we quitted the precincts of Brazen-nose, which we did separately,
to escape observation from the Cerberus who guarded the portal.
It is in a college wine-party that the true character of your early
associates are easily discoverable: out of the excesses of the table
very often spring the truest impressions, the first, but indelible
affection which links kindred spirits together in after-time, and
cements with increasing years into the most inviolable friendship. Here
the sallies of youth, unchecked by care, or fettered by restraint,
give loose to mirth and revelry; and the brilliancy of genius and the
warm-hearted gaiety of pure delight are found in the highest perfection.
The blue light of heaven illumined the magnificent square of Radcliffe,
when we passed from beneath the porch of Brazen-nose, and tipping with
her silvery light the surrounding architecture, lent additional beauty
to the solemn splendour of the scene. Sophisticated as my faculties
certainly were by the copious libations and occurrences of the day, I
could yet admire with reverential awe the imposing grandeur by which I
was surrounded.
A wayward being from my infancy, not the least mark of my eccentricity
is the peculiar humour in which I find myself when I have sacrificed
too freely to the jolly god: unlike the major part of mankind, my
temperament, instead of being invigorated and enlivened by the sparkling
juice of the grape, loses its wonted nerve and elasticity; a sombre
gloominess pervades the system, the pulse becomes nervous and languid,
the spirits flagging and depressed, and the mind full of chimerical
apprehensions and _ennui_. It was in this mood that Eglantine found me
ruminating on the noble works before me, while resting against a part of
the pile of Radcliffe library, contemplating ~249~~the elegant crocketed
pinnacles of All Souls, the delicately taper spire of St. Mary's, and
the clustered enrichments and imperial canopies of masonry, and splendid
traceries which every where strike the eye: all of which objects were
rendered trebly impressive from the stillness of the night, and the
flittering light by which they were illumined. I had enough of wine and
frolic, and had hoped to have _shirked_ the party and stolen quietly
to my lodgings, there to indulge in my lucubrations on the scene I had
witnessed, and note in my journal, according to my usual practice, the
more prominent events of the day, when Horace commenced with--
"Where the devil, old fellow, have you been hiding yourself? I've been
hunting you some time. A little _cut_, I suppose: never mind, my boy,
you'll be better presently. Here's glorious sport on foot; don't you
hear the war-cry?" At this moment a buzz of distant voices broke upon
the ear like the mingled shouts of an election tumult. "There they
are, old fellow: come, buckle on your armour--we must try your mettle
to-night. All the university are out--a glorious row--come along, no
shirking---the _togati_ against the town raff--remember the sacred
cause, my boy." And in this way, spite of all remonstrance, was I
dragged through the lane and enlisted with the rest of my companions
into a corps of university men who were just forming themselves in the
High-street to repel the daring attack of the very scum of the city,
who had ill-treated and beaten some gownsmen in the neighbourhood of
St. Thomas's, and had the temerity to follow and assail them in their
retreat to the High-street with every description of villanous epithet,
and still more offensive and destructive missiles. "Stand fast there,
old fellows," said Echo; who, although _devilishly cut_, seemed to be
the leader of the division. "Where's old Mark Supple?" "Here I am sir,
_take notice_" said the old scout, who appeared as active as ~250~~an
American rifleman. "Will Peake send us the bludgeons?" "He won't open
his doors, sir, for anybody, _take notice_." "Then down with the Mitre,
my hearties;" and instantly a rope was thrown across the _bishop's cap_
by old Mark, and the tin sign, lamp, and all came tumbling into the
street, smashed into a thousand pieces.
PEAKE (looking out of an upper window in his night-cap). Doey be quiet,
and go along, for God's zake, gentlemen! I shall be _ruinated and
discommoned_ if I open my door to any body.
TOM ECHO. You infernal old fox-hunter! if you don't doff your knowledge
bag and come to the door, we'll mill all your glaze, burst open your
gates, and hamstring all your horses.
MRS. PEAKE (in her night-gown). Stand out of the way, Peake; let
me speak to the gentlemen. Gentlemen, doey, gentlemen, consider my
reputation, and the reputation of ray house. O dear, gentlemen, doey go
somewhere else--we've no sticks here, I azzure ye, and we're all in bed.
Doey go, gentlemen, pray do.
TRANSIT. Dame Peake, if you don't open your doors directly, we'll break
them open, and unkennel that old bagg'd fox, your husband, and drink all
the black strap in your cellar, and--and play the devil with the maids.
MRS. PEAKE. Don'te say so, don'te say so, Mr. Transit; I know you to be
a quiet, peaceable gentleman, and I am zure you will befriend me: doey
persuade 'em to go away, pray do,
~251~~
MARK SUPPLE. Dame Peake
MRS. PEAKE. Oh, Mr. Mark Supple, are you there I talk to the gentlemen,
Mr. Mark, pray do.
MARK SUPPLE. It's no use, dame Peake; they won't be gammon'd, take
notice. If you have any old broom-handles, throw 'em out directly, and
if not, throw all the brooms you have in the house out of window--throw
out all your sticks--throw Peake out. I'm for the gown, _take notice_.
Down with the town! down with the town!
BILL MAGS. (The waiter, at a lower window.) Hist, hist, Mr. Echo; Mr.
Eglantine, hist, hist; master's gone to the back of the house with all
the sticks he can muster; and here's an old kitchen-chair you can break
up and make bludgeons of (throwing the chair out of window), and here's
the cook's rolling-pin, and I'll go and forage for more ammunition.
HORACE EGLANTINE. You're a right good fellow, Bill; and I'll pay
you before I do your master; and the Brazen-nose men shall make your
fortune.
TOM ECHO. But where's the academicals I sent old Captain Cook for 1 We
shall be beating one another in the dark without caps and gowns.
CAPTAIN COOK. (A scout of Christ Church.) Here I be, zur. That old
rogue, Dick Shirley, refuses to send any gowns; he says he has nothing
but noblemen's gowns and gold tufts in his house.
~252~~
THE HON. LILLYMAN LIONISE. By the honour of my ancestry, that fellow
shall never draw another stitch for Christ Church as long as he lives.
Come along, captain: by the honour of my ancestry, we'll uncase the old
_snyder_; we'll have gowns, I warrant me, noble or not noble, gold tufts
or no tufts. Come along, Cook.
In a few moments old Captain Cook and the exquisite returned loaded with
gowns and caps, having got in at the window and completely cleared
the tailor's shop of all his academicals, in spite of his threats or
remonstrances. In the interim, old Mark Supple and Echo had succeeded in
obtaining a supply of broom-handles and other weapons of defence; when
the insignia of the university, the toga and cap, were soon distributed
indiscriminately: the numbers of the university men increased every
moment; and the yell of the town raff seemed to gain strength with every
step as they approached the scene of action. Gown! gown! Town! town!
were the only sounds heard in every direction; and the clamour and
the tumult of voices were enough to shake the city with dismay. The
authorities were by no means idle; but neither proctors or pro's, or
marshal, or bull-dogs, or even deans, dons, and dignitaries, for such
there were, who strained their every effort to quell the disturbance,
were at all attended to, and many who came as peace-makers were
compelled in their own defence to take an active part in the fray.
From the bottom of the High-street to the end of the corn-market, and
across again through St. Aldate's to the old bridge, every where the
more peaceable and respectable citizens might be seen popping their
noddles out of window, and rubbing their half-closed eyes with affright,
to learn the cause of the alarming strife.