"Who, to save from rustication,
Crammed the dunce with declamation,"
Is now fast falling into _forgetfulness_, though there was a time when
he was hailed by Granta's choicest spirits, as one who never failed to
"set the table in a roar." Poor Jemmy! I shall never forget the manner
in which he, by one of those straightforward, not-to-be-mistaken
flashes of wit, silenced a brow-beating Radical Huntingdon attorney,
at a Reform-meeting in Cambridge market-pace. Jemmy was a native of
Cambridge, and was the son of a former chapel-clerk of Trinity
College, who gave him an excellent classical education, and had him
articled to an eminent solicitor, with fine talents and good
prospects. But though Jemmy was "a cunning man with a hard head," such
as his profession required, he had a soft heart,--fell in love with a
pretty girl. That pretty girl, it is said, returned his passion, then
proved faithless, and finally coquetted and ran off with a "_gay_
deceiver," a fellow-commoner of Trinity College,--optically dazzled,
no doubt, with the purple robe and silver lace, for Jemmy was a fine,
sensible-looking man. Poor Jemmy! he was too good for the faithless
hussy; he took it to heart, as they say, and, unfortunately, took to
drinking at the same time. He soon became too unsettled, both in mind
and habits, to follow up his profession with advantage, and he became
a _bon-vivant_, a professed wit, with a natural turn for facete, and
the _cram-man_ of the more idle sons of Granta, who delighted in his
society in those days when his wits were unclouded, nor did the more
distinguished members of the university then disdain to hail him to
their boards. For many years Jemmy lived to know and prove that
"learning is most excellent;" and having a good classical turn, he
lived by writing _Themes_ and _Declarations_ for non-reading Cantabs,
for each of which Jemmy expected the physician's mite, and, like them,
might be said to thrive by the _Guinea_ Trade. It is, no doubt, true,
that some of his productions had college prizes awarded to them, and
that, on one occasion, being recommended to apply for the medal, he
indignantly answered, "It is no credit to be first in an ass-race!"
Notwithstanding, Jemmy's in-goings never equalled his out-goings, and
many a parley had Jemmy with his empty purse. It was no uncommon thing
for him to pass his vacations in _quod_--_videlicet_ jail--for debts
his creditors were well aware he could not pay; but they well knew
also that his friends, the students, would be sure to _pay him out_ on
their return to college. These circumstances give occasion for the
publication of the now scarce caricatures of him, entitled,
"Term-time," and "Non-term." In the first he is represented spouting
to one of his _togaed_ customers, in the latter he appears cogitating
in "durance vile." Besides these, numerous portraits of Jemmy have
been put forth, for the correctness of most of which we, who have
"held our sides at his fair words," can vouch. A full-length is extant
in Hone's Every-Day Book, in the Gradus ad Catabrigiam is a second;
and we doubt not but our friend Mason, of Church-Passage, Cambridge,
could furnish a collector with several. Poor Jemmy! he has now been
dead several years. His latter days were melancholy indeed. To the
last, however, Jemmy continued to sport those distinctive marks of a
man of _ton_, a _spying-glass_ and an _opera-hat_, which so well
became him. Latterly he became troublesome to his best friends, not
only levying contributions at will, but by saying _hard things_ to
them, sparing neither heads of college, tutors, fellows, students, or
others whose names were familiar to him. On one occasion, oblivious
with too much devotion to _Sir John_, as was latterly his wont, his
abuse caused him to be committed to the _tread-mill_--_sic
transit_--and after his term of _exercise_ had expired, meeting a
Cantab in the street whose beauty was even less remarkable than his
wit, he addressed our recreant with, "Well, Jemmy, how do you like the
tread-mill?" "I don't like your ---- ugly face," was the response.
Jemmy's recorded witticisms were at one time as numberless as the
stars, and in the mouth of every son of Granta, bachelor or big-wig;
now some only are remembered. He one day met Sir John Mortlock in the
streets of Granta, soon after he had been knighted; making a dead
pause, and looking Sir John full in the face, Jemmy _improvised_--
"The king, by merely laying sword on,
Could make a knight of Jemmy Gordon."
At another time, petitioning a certain college dignitary for a few
shillings to recover his clothes, pledged to appease his thirst, he
said, on receiving the amount, "Now, I know that my redeemer liveth."
Jemmy, in his _glorious days_, had been a good deal patronised by the
late Master of Trinity College, Bishop Mansel, like himself a wit of
the first water. Jemmy one day called upon the bishop, during the time
he filled the office of Vice-Chancellor, to beg half-a-crown. "I will
give you as much," said the Bishop, "if you can bring me a greater
rogue than yourself." Jemmy made his bow and departed, content with
the condition, and had scarcely half crossed the great court of
Trinity, when he espied the late Mr. B., then one of the Esquire
Bedels of the University, scarcely less eccentric than himself. Jemmy
coolly told him that the Vice-Chancellor wanted to see him. Into the
Lodge went our Bedel, followed close by Jemmy. "Here he is," said
Jemmy, as they entered the Bishop's presence, _arcades ambo_, at the
same instant. "Who?" inquired the Bishop. "You told me, my Lord," said
Jemmy, "to bring you a greater rogue than myself, and you would give
me half-a-crown, and here he is." The Bishop enjoyed the joke, and
gave him the money. A somewhat