coming fray, a number of them were fresh light-hearted Etonians and
old Westminsters, who having just arrived to place themselves under the
sacred banners of Academus, thought their honour and their courage both
concerned in defending the _togati_: most of these youthful zealots had
as usual, at the beginning of a term, been lodged in the different inns
and houses of the city, and from having drank somewhat freely of the
welcome cup with old schoolfellows and new friends, were just ripe for
mischief, unheedful of the consequences or the cause.
On the other hand, the original fomenters of the strife had recruited
their forces with herds of the lowest rabble gathered from the purlieus
of their patron saints, St. Clement and St. Thomas, and the shores of
the Charwell,--the bargees, and butchers, and labourers, and scum of the
suburbians: a huge conglomerated mass of thick sculls, and broad backs,
and strengthy arms, and sturdy legs, and throats bawling for revenge,
and hearts bursting with wrathful ire, rendered still more frantic and
desperate by the magic influence of their accustomed war-whoop. These
formed the base barbarian race of Oxford truands,{1} including every
vile thing that passes under the generic name of raff. From college
to college the mania spread with the rapidity of an epidemic wind; and
scholars, students, and fellows were every where in motion: here a stout
bachelor of arts might be seen knocking down the ancient Cerberus who
opposed his passage; there the iron-bound college gates were forced open
by the united power of the youthful inmates. In another quarter might be
seen the heir of some noble family risking his neck in the headlong
leap {2}; and near him, a party of the _togati_ scaling the sacred
battlements with as much energetic zeal as the ancient crusaders would
have displayed against the ferocious Saracens.
1 The French _truands_ were beggars, who under the pretence
of asking alms committed the most atrocious crimes and
excesses.
2 It was on one of these occasions that the celebrated
Charles James Fox made that illustrious leap from the window
of Hertford College.
~254~~Scouts flying in every direction to procure caps and gowns,
and scholars dropping from towers and windows by bell-ropes and
_sheet-ladders_; every countenance exhibiting as much ardour and
frenzied zeal, as if the consuming elements of earth and fire threatened
the demolition of the sacred city of Rhedycina.
It was on the spot where once stood the ancient conduit of Carfax,
flanked on the one side by the venerable church of St. Martin and the
colonnade of the old butter-market, and on the other by the town-hall,
from the central point of which terminate, south, west, and north, St.
Aldate's, the butcher-row, and the corn-market, that the scene exhibited
its more substantial character. It was here the assailants first caught
sight of each other; and the yell, and noise, and deafening shouts
became terrific. In a moment all was fury and confusion: in the onset
the gown, confident and daring, had evidently the advantage, and the
retiring raff fell back in dismay; while the advancing and victorious
party laid about them with their quarter-staves, and knuckles drawing
blood, or teeth, or cracking crowns at every blow, until they had driven
them back to the end of the corn-market. It was now that the strong arm
and still stronger science of the sturdy bachelors of Brazen-nose, and
the square-built, athletic sons of Cambria, the Jones's of Jesus, proved
themselves of sterling mettle, and bore the brunt of the battle with
unexampled courage: at this instant a second reinforcement arriving from
the canals and wharfs on the banks of the Isis, having forced their way
by George-lane, brought timely assistance to the town raff, and enabled
them again to rally and present so formidable an appearance, ~255~~that
the _togati_ deemed it prudent to retreat upon their reserve, who were
every moment accumulating in immense numbers in the High-street: to
this spot the townsmen, exulting in their trifling advantage, had the
temerity to follow and renew the conflict, and here they sustained the
most signal defeat: for the men of Christ Church, and Pembroke, and St.
Mary's Hall, and Oriel, and Corpus Christi, had united their forces in
the rear; while the front of the gown had fallen back upon the effective
Trinitarians, and Albanians, and Wadhamites, and men of Magdalen, who
had by this time roused them from their monastic towers and cells to
fight the holy war, and defend their classic brotherhood: nor was this
all the advantages the gown had to boast of, for the _scouts_, ever true
to their masters, had summoned the lads of the fancy, and Marston Will,
and Harry Bell, and a host of out and outers, came up to the scratch,
and floored many a _youkel_ with their _bunch of fives_. It was at this
period that the conflict assumed its most appalling feature, for
the townsmen were completely hemmed into the centre, and fought with
determined courage, presenting a hollow square, two fronts of which
were fully engaged with the infuriated gown. Long and fearful was the
struggle for mastery, and many and vain the attempts of the townsmen to
retreat, until the old Oxford night coach, in its way up the High-street
to the Star Inn in the corn-market, was compelled to force its passage
through the conflicting parties; when the bull-dogs and the constables,
headed by marshal Holliday and old Jack Smith, united their forces,
and following the vehicle, opened a passage into the very centre of the
battle, where they had for some time to sustain the perilous attacks
of oaths, and blows, and kicks from both parties, until having fairly
wedged themselves between the combatants, they succeeded by threats and
entreaties, and seizing a few of the ringleaders on ~256~~both sides, to
cause a dispersion, and restore by degrees the peace of the city.
It was, however, some hours before the struggle had completely subsided,
a running fight being kept up by the various straggling parties in their
retreat; and at intervals the fearful cry of Town and Gown would resound
from some plebeian alley or murky lane as an unfortunate wight of the
adverse faction was discovered stealing homewards, covered with mud and
scars. Of my college friends and merry companions in the fray, Tom Echo
alone remained visible, and he had (in his own phraseology) _dropped his
sash_: according to Hudibras, he looked
"As men of inward light are wont
To turn their opticks in upon't;"
or, in plain English, had an _invisible_ eye. The "_disjecta fragmenta_"
of his academical robe presented a most pitiful appearance; it was of
the ragged sort, like the _mendicula impluviata_ of Plautus, and his
under habiliments bore evident marks of his having bitten the dust
(i.e. mud) beneath the ponderous arm of some heroic blacksmith or bargee;
but yet he was lively, and what with blows and exertion, perfectly
sobered. "What, Blackmantle? and alive, old fellow? Well clone, my
hearty; I saw you set to with that fresh water devil from Charwell, the
old Bargee, and a pretty milling you gave him. I had intended to have
seconded you, but just as I was making up, a son of Vulcan let fly his
sledge-hammer slap at my _smeller_, and stopped up one of my _oculars_,
so I was obliged to turn to and finish him off; and when I had completed
the job, you had bolted; not, however, without leaving your marks behind
you. But where's Eglantine? where's Transit? where's the Honourable? By
my soul the _roue_ can handle his _mauleys_ well; I saw him floor one
of the raff in very prime style. But come along, my hearty; we must
walk over the ~257~~field of battle and look after the wounded: I am
desperately afraid that Eglantine is _booked inside_--saw him surrounded
by the _bull-dogs_--made a desperate effort to rescue him--and had some
difficulty to clear myself; but never mind, ''tis the fortune of war,'
and there's very good lodging in the castle. Surely there's Mark Supple
with some one on his back. What, Mark, is that you?" "No, sir--yes,
sir--I mean, sir, it's a gentleman of our college--O dearey me, I
thought it had been a proctor or a bull-dog--for Heaven's sake, help,
sir! here's Mr. Transit quite senseless, _take notice_--picked him up in
a doorway in Lincoln-lane, bleeding like a pig, _take notice_.
O dear, O dear, what a night this has been! We shall all be sent to the
castle, and perhaps transported for manslaughter. For Heaven's sake, Mr.
Echo, help! bear his head up--take hold of his feet, Mr. Blackmantle,
and I'll go before, and ring at Dr. Tuckwell's bell, _take notice_."
In this way poor Transit was conveyed to the surgery, where, after
cleansing him from the blood and dirt, and the application of some
aromatics, he soon recovered, and happily had not sustained any very
serious injury. From old Mark we learned that Eglantine was a captive
to the bull-dogs, and safely deposited in the castle along with Marston
Will, who had fought nobly in his defence: of Lionise we could gain
no other tidings than that Mark had seen him at the end of the fray
climbing up to the first floor window of a tradesman's house in the
High-street, whose daughter it was well known he had a little intrigue
with, and where, as we concluded, he had found a balsam for his wounds,
and shelter for the night. It was nearly three o'clock when I regained
my lodging and found Mags, the waiter of the Mitre, on the look-out
for me: Echo had accompanied me home, and in our way we had picked up
a wounded man of University College, who had suffered severely in the
contest. It was worthy ~258~~the pencil of a Hogarth to have depicted
the appearance of the High-street after the contest, when we were
cautiously perambulating from end to end in search of absent friends,
and fearing at every step the approach of the proctors or their
bull-dogs: the lamps were almost all smashed, and the burners dangling
to and fro with the wind, the greater part extinguished, or just
emitting sufficient light to make night horrible. On the lamp-irons
might be seen what at first sight was most appalling, the figure of
some hero of the _togati_ dangling by the neck, but which, on nearer
approach, proved to be only the dismembered academical of some
gentleman-commoner hung up as a trophy by the town raff. Broken windows
and shutters torn from their hinges, and missiles of every description
covering the ground, from the terrific Scotch paving-pebble torn up
from the roads, to the spokes of coach-wheels, and the oaken batons, and
fragments of lanterns belonging to the town watch, skirts of coats,
and caps, and remnants of _togas_ both silken and worsted, bespoke the
quality of the heroes of the fray; while here and there a poor terrified
wretch was exposing his addle head to the mildews of the night-damp,
fearing a revival of the contest, or anxiously watching the return of
husband, brother, father, or son.{3}
3 This picture of an Oxford row is not, as the general
reader might imagine, the mere fiction of the novelist, but
the true description of a contest which occurred some few
years since; the leading features of which will be (although
the names have been, except in one or two instances,
studiously suppressed) easily recognised by many of the
present sons of Alma Mater who shared in the perils and
glory of the battle. To those who are strangers to the
sacred city, and these casual effervescences of juvenile
spirit, the admirable graphic view of the scene by my friend
Bob Transit (see plate) will convey a very correct idea.
To the credit of the more respectable and wealthy class of
Oxford citizens it should be told, they are now too sensible
of their own interest, and, besides, too well-informed to
mix with these civil disturbances; the lower orders,
therefore, finding themselves unequal to the contest without
their support, submit to the _togati_; and thus the civil
wars that have raged in Oxford with very little interruption
from the days of Alfred seem for the present extinguished.
~259~~
On our arrival at the Mitre, poor Mrs. Peake, half frightened to death,
was up and busy in administering to the sufferers various consolatory
draughts composed of bishop, and flesh and blood{4} and _rumbooze_;
while the chambermaids, and Peake, and the waiters were flying about
the house with warm water, and basins, and towels, to the relief of
the numerous applicants, who all seemed anxious to wash away the dirty
remembrances of the disgusting scene.
Hitherto I had been so busily engaged in defending myself and preserving
my friends, that I had not a moment for reflection. It has been well
observed, that "place an Englishman in the field of battle, no matter
what his political feelings, he will fight like a lion, by instinct, or
the mere force of example;" so with the narrator of this contest. I had
not, up to this time, the least knowledge of the original cause of the
row. I have naturally an aversion to pugilistic contests and tumultuous
sports, and yet I found by certain bruises, and bumps, and stains of
blood, and stiffness of joints, and exhaustion, and the loss of my upper
garment, which I had then only just discovered, that I must have borne a
_pretty considerable_{5} part in the contest, and carried away no
small share of victorious laurels, since I had escaped without any very
visible demonstration of my adversaries' prowess; but for this I must
acknowledge myself indebted to my late private tutor the Eton cad,
Joe Cannon, whose fancy lectures on noseology, and the science of the
milling system, had enabled me to
4 Brandy and port wine, half and half.
5 An Oxford phrase.
~260~~defend my bread-basket, cover up my peepers, and keep my nob out
of chancery{6}: a merit that all
6 The use of a peculiar cant phraseology for different
classes, it would appear, originated with the Argoliers, a
species of French beggars or monkish impostors, who were
notorious for every thing that was bad and infamous: these
people assumed the form of a regular government, elected a
king, established a fixed code of laws, and invented a
language peculiar to themselves, constructed probably by
some of the debauched and licentious youths, who, abandoning
their scholastic studies, associated with these vagabonds.
In the poetical life of the French robber Cartouche, a
humorous account is given of the origin of the word _Argot_;
and the same author has also compiled a dictionary of the
language then in use by these people, which is annexed to
the work. Hannan, in his very singular work, published in
1566, entitled "A Caveat, or Warning for Common Cursitors
(runners), vulgarly called Vagabones," has described a
number of the words then in use, among what he humorously
calls the "lued lousey language of these lewtering beskes
and lasy lovrels." And it will be remembered that at that
time many of the students of our universities were among
these cursitors, as we find by an old statute of the xxii of
Hen. VIII.; "that scholars at the universities begging
without licence, were to be punished like common cursi-
tors." The vagabonds of Spain are equally celebrated for
their use of a peculiar slang or cant, as will be seen on
reference to a very curious work of Rafael Frianoro,
entitled" _Il Vagabondo, overo sferzo de bianti e
Vagabondi_." _Viterbo_, 1620, 12mo. As also in those
excellent novels, "Lazarillo do Tormes," and "Guzman de
Alfarache." The _Romany_ or gipsies' dialect is given with
the history of that singular people by Mr. Grellman; an
English translation of which was published in 1787, by
Roper, in quarto: from those works, Grose principally
compiled his "Lexicon Ballatronicum." In the present day we
have many professors of slang, and in more ways than one,
too many of cant; the greater part of whom are dull
impostors, who rather invent strange terms to astonish the
vulgar than adhere to the peculiar phrases of the persons
they attempt to describe. It has long been matter of regret
with the better order of English sporting men, that the
pugilistic contests and turf events of the day are not
written in plain English, "which all those who run might
read," instead of being rendered almost unintelligible by
being narrated in the language of beggars, thieves, and
pickpockets--a jargon as free from true wit as it is full of
obscenity.
~261~~Keate's{7} learning would not have compensated for under the
peculiar circumstances in which I was placed.
It was now that the mischief was done, and many a sound head was
cracked, and many a courageous heart was smarting 'neath their wounds in
the gloomy dungeons of the castle, or waiting in their rooms the probing
instrument and plasters of Messrs. Wall, or Kidd, or Bourne, that a few
of us, who had escaped tolerably well, and were seated round a bowl of
bishop in the snug _sanctum sanctorum_ of the Mitre, began to inquire
of each other the origin of the fray. After a variety of conjectures and
vague reports, each at variance with the other, and evidently deficient
in the most remote connexion with the true cause of the strife, it was
agreed to submit the question to the waiter, as a neutral observer, who
assured us that the whole affair arose out of a trifling circumstance,
originating with some mischievous boys, who, having watched two gownsmen
into a cyprian temple in the neighbourhood of Saint Thomas, circulated a
false report that they had carried thither the wives of two respectable
mechanics. Without taking the trouble to inquire into the truth or
falsehood of the accusation, the door was immediately beset; the old
cry of Town and Gown vociferated in every direction; and the unfortunate
wights compelled to seek their safety by an ignominious flight through a
back door and over the meadows. The tumult once raised, it was not to be
appeased without some victim, and for this purpose they thought proper
to attack a party of the _togati_, who were returning home from a little
private sport with a well-known fancy lecturer: the opportunity was
a good one to show-off, a regular fight commenced, and the raff were
floored in every direction, until their numbers increasing beyond all
7 The highly respected and learned head-master of Eton
College.
~262 comparison, the university men were compelled to raise the cry of
Gown, and fly for succour and defence to the High-street: in this way
had a few mischievous boys contrived to embroil the town and university
in one of the most severe intestine struggles ever remembered.
[Illustration: page262]
_A true chronicle of ye bloodie fighte betweene the Clerkes
of and Scholairs of Oxenforde, and the Townsmen of the
Citie, who were crowdinge rounde the Easterne Gaite to see
the Kinge enter in his progresse wostwarde._
~263~~
Sir Gierke of Oxenforde, prepare Your robis riche, and noble cheere. Ye
kinge with alle his courtlie trane Is spurring on your plaice to gane.
And heere ye trumpet's merrie note, His neare approache proclaims, I
wote; Ye doctors, proctors, scholairs, go, And fore youre sovereigne
bend ye lowe. Now comes the kinge in grande arraie; And the scholairs
presse alonge the waye, Till ye Easterne gaite was thronged so rounde,
That passage coulde no where be founde. Then the sheriffe's men their
upraised speares Did plye about the people's eares. And woe the day;
the rabble route Their speares did breake like glasse aboute. Then the
doctors, proctors, for the kinge, Most lustilie for roome did singe; But
thoughe theye bawled out amaine, No passage throughe the crowde coulde
gane. Ye Northern gownsmen, a bold race, Now swore they'd quicklie free
the plaice; With stalwart gripe, and beadle's staffe Theye clefte the
townsmen's sculls in half.
~264~~
And now the wrathful rabble rave, And quick returne withe club and
stave; And heades righte learn'd in classic lore Felt as they'd never
felt before. Now fierce and bloody growes the fraye: In vaine the mayore
and sheriffe praye For peace--to cool the townsmens' ire, Intreatie but
impelles the fire. Downe with the Towne! the scholairs cry; Downe with
the Gowne! the towne reply. Loud rattle the caps of the clerkes in aire,
And the citizens many a sortie beare; And many a churchman fought his
waye, Like a heroe in the bloodie fraye. And one right portlie father
slewe Of rabble townsmen not a fewe. And now 'mid the battle's strife
and din There came to the Easterne gate, The heralde of our lorde
the kinge, With his merrie men all in state. "God help us!" quoth the
courtlie childe, "What means this noise within? With joye the people
have run wilde." And so he peeped him in, And throughe the wicker-gate
he spied, And marvelled much thereat, The streets withe crimson current
dyed, And Towne and Gowne laide flat. Then he called his merrie men
aloud, To bringe him a ladder straighte; The trumpet sounds--the warlike
crowde In a moment forget theire hate. Up rise the wounded, down theire
arms Both Towne and Gowne do lie; The kinge's approache ye people
charmes, And alle looke merrilie. For howe'er Towne and Gowne may
fighte, Yet bothe are true to ye kinge. So on bothe may learning and
honour lighte, Let all men gailie singe.{1}
~265~~
1 The above imitation of the style of the ancient ballad is
founded on traditional circumstances said to have occurred
when the pacific king James visited Oxford.--_Bernard
Blackmantle_.