He is insulted by his Tutor, whom he lampoons--Makes a considerable
Progress in Polite Literature; and, in an Excursion to Windsor, meets
with Emilia by accident, and is very coldly received.
Among those who suffered by his craft and infidelity was Mr. Jumble,
his own tutor, who could not at all digest the mortifying affront he had
received, and was resolved to be revenged on the insulting author. With
this view he watched the conduct of Mr. Pickle with the utmost rancour
of vigilance, and let slip no opportunity of treating him disrespect,
which he knew the disposition of his pupil could less brook than any
other severity it was in his power to exercise.
Peregrine had been several mornings absent from chapel; and as Mr.
Jumble never failed to question him in a very peremptory style about his
non-attendance, he invented some very plausible excuses; but at length
his ingenuity was exhausted: he received a very galling rebuke for his
proffigacy of morals; and, that he might feel it the more sensibly, was
ordered, by way of exercise, to compose a paraphrase in English verse
upon these two lines in Virgil:--
Vane Ligur, frustraque animis elate superbis,
Nequicquam patrias tentasti lubricus artes.
The imposition of this invidious theme had all the desired effect upon
Peregrine, who not only considered it as a piece of unmannerly abuse
leveled against his own conduct, but also a retrospective insult on
the memory of his grandfather, who, as he had been informed, was in his
lifetime more noted for his cunning than candour in trade.
Exasperated at this instance of the pedant's audacity, he had well nigh,
in his first transports, taken corporal satisfaction on the spot;
but, foreseeing the troublesome consequences that would attend such
a flagrant outrage against the laws of the university, he checked his
indignation, and resolved to revenge the injury in a more cool and
contemptuous manner. Thus determined, he set on foot an inquiry into
the particulars of Jumble's parentage and education. He learnt that the
father of this insolent tutor was a brick-layer, that his mother sold
pies, and that the son, in different periods of his youth, had amused
himself in both occupations, before he converted his views to the study
of learning. Fraught with this intelligence, he composed the following
ballad in doggerel rhymes; and next day, presented it as a gloss upon
the text which the tutor had chosen:--
Come, listen, ye students of every degree;
I sing of a wit and a tutor perdie,
A statesman profound, a critic immense,
In short a mere jumble of learning and sense;
And yet of his talents though laudably vain,
His own family arts he could never attain.
His father, intending his fortune to build,
In his youth would have taught him the trowel to wield,
But the mortar of discipline never would stick,
For his skull was secured by a facing of brick;
And with all his endeavours of patience and pain,
The skill of his sire he could never attain.
His mother, a housewife neat, artful, and wise,
Renown'd for her delicate biscuit and pies,
soon alter'd his studies, by flattering his taste,
From the raising of walls to the rearing of paste!
But all her instructions were fruitless and vain;
The pie-making mystery he ne'er could attain.
Yet true to his race, in his labours were seen
A jumble of both their professions, I ween;
For, when his own genius he ventured to trust,
His pies seemed of brick, and his houses of crust.
Then good Mr. Tutor, pray be not so vain,
Since your family arts you could never attain.
This impudent production was the most effectual vengeance he could
have taken on his tutor, who had all the supercilious arrogance and
ridiculous pride of a low-born pedant. Instead of overlooking this
petulant piece of satire with that temper and decency of disdain that
became a person of his gravity and station, he no sooner cast his eye
over the performance, than the blood rushed into his countenance, and
immediately after exhibited a ghastly pale colour. With a quivering lip,
he told his pupil, that he was an impertinent jackanapes; and he would
take care that he should be expelled from the university, for having
presumed to write and deliver such a licentious and scurrilous libel.
Peregrine answered, with great resolution, that when the provocation
he had received should be known, he was persuaded that he should be
acquitted by the opinion of all impartial people; and that he was ready
to submit the whole to the decision of the master.
This arbitration he proposed, because he knew the master and Jumble were
at variance; and, for that reason, the tutor durst not venture to put
the cause on such an issue. Nay, when this reference was mentioned,
Jumble, who was naturally jealous, suspected that Peregrine had a
promise of protection before he undertook to commit such an outrageous
insult; and this notion had such an effect upon him, that he decided
to devour his vexation, and wait for a more proper opportunity of
gratifying his hate. Meanwhile, copies of the ballad were distributed
among the students, who sang it under the very nose of Mr. Jumble, to
the tune of “A Cobbler there was” etc.; and the triumph of our hero
was complete. Neither was his whole time devoted to the riotous
extravagancies of youth. He enjoyed many lucid intervals, during which
he contracted a more intimate acquaintance with the classics, applied
himself to the reading of history, improved his taste for painting and
music, in which he made some progress; and, above all things, cultivated
the study of natural philosophy. It was generally after a course of
close attention to some of these arts and sciences, that his disposition
broke out into those irregularities and wild sallies of a luxuriant
imagination, for which he became so remarkable; and he was perhaps the
only young man in Oxford who, at the same time, maintained an intimate
and friendly intercourse with the most unthinking, as well as the most
sedate students at the university.
It is not to be supposed that a young man of Peregrine's vanity,
inexperience, and profusion, could suit his expense to his allowance,
liberal as it was--for he was not one of those fortunate people who are
born economists, and knew not the art of withholding his purse when he
saw his companion in difficulty. Thus naturally generous and expensive,
he squandered away his money, and made a most splendid appearance upon
the receipt of his quarterly appointment; but long before the third
month was elapsed, his finances were consumed: and as he could not stoop
to ask an extraordinary supply, was too proud to borrow, and too haughty
to run in debt with tradesmen, he devoted those periods of poverty to
the prosecution of his studies, and shone forth again at the revolution
of quarter-day.
In one of these eruptions he and some of his companions went to Windsor,
in order to see the royal apartments in the castle, whither they
repaired in the afternoon; and as Peregrine stood contemplating the
picture of Hercules and Omphale, one of his fellow-students whispered in
his car, “Zounds! Pickle, there are two fine girls!” He turned instantly
about, and in one of them recognized his almost forgotten Emilia; her
appearance acted upon his imagination like a spark of fire that falls
among gun-powder; that passion which had lain dormant for the space of
two years, flashed up in a moment, and he was seized with a trepidation.
She perceived and partook of his emotion; for their souls, like unisons,
vibrated with the same impulse. However, she called her pride and
resentment to her aid, and found resolution enough to retire from such a
dangerous scene.
Alarmed at her retreat, he recollected all his assurance, and, impelled
by love, which he could no longer resist, followed her into the next
room, where, in the most disconcerted manner, he accosted her with “Your
humble servant, Miss Gauntlet;” to which salutation she replied, with
an affectation of indifference, that did not, however, conceal her
agitation, “Your servant, sir;” and immediately extending her finger
toward the picture of Duns Scotus, which is fixed over one of the doors,
asked her companion, in a giggling tone, if she did not think he looked
like a conjurer? Peregrine, nettled into spirits by this reception,
answered for the other lady, “that it was an easy matter to be a
conjurer in those times, when the simplicity of the age assisted his
divination; but were he, or Merlin himself, to rise from the dead now,
when such deceit and dissimulation prevail, they would not be able to
earn their bread by the profession.”--“O! Sir,” said she, turning
full upon him, “without doubt they would adopt new maxims; 'tis
no disparagement in this enlightened age for one to alter one's
opinion.”--“No, sure, madam,” replied the youth, with some
precipitation, “provided the change be for the better.”--“And should
it happen otherwise,” retorted the nymph, with a flirt of her
fan, “inconstancy will never want countenance from the practice of
mankind.”--“True, madam,” resumed our hero, fixing his eyes upon her;
“examples of levity are every where to be met with.”--“Oh Lord, sir,”
cried Emilia, tossing her head, “you'll scarce ever find a fop without
it.”
By this time his companion, seeing him engaged with one of the ladies,
entered into conversation with the other; and, in order to favour his
friend's gallantry, conducted her into the next apartment, on pretence
of entertaining her with the sight of a remarkable piece of painting.
Peregrine, laying hold on this opportunity of being alone with the
object of his love, assumed a most seducing tenderness of look, and,
heaving a profound sigh, asked if she had utterly discarded him from
her remembrance. Reddening at this pathetic question, which recalled the
memory of the imagined slight he had put upon her, she answered in great
confusion, “Sir, I believe I once had the pleasure of seeing you at a
ball in Winchester.”--“Miss Emilia,” said he, very gravely, “will you
be so candid as to tell me what misbehaviour of mine you are pleased to
punish, by restricting your remembrance to that single occasion?”--“Mr.
Pickle,” she replied, in the same tone, “it is neither my province
nor inclination to judge your conduct; and therefore you misapply your
question when you ask such an explanation of me”--“At least” resumed our
lover, “give me the melancholy satisfaction to know for what offence
of mine you refused to take least notice of that letter which I had the
honour to write from Winchester by your own express permission.”--“Your
letter,” said miss, with great vivacity, “neither required, nor, in my
opinion, deserved an answer; and to be free with you, Mr. Pickle, it
was but a shallow artifice to rid yourself of a correspondence you had
deigned to solicit.”
Peregrine, confounded at this repartee, replied that howsoever he might
have failed in point of elegance or discretion, he was sure he had not
been deficient in expressions of respect and devotion for those charms
which it was his pride to adore: “As for the verses,” said he, “I own
they were unworthy of the theme; but I flattered myself that they would
have merited your acceptance, though not your approbation, and been
considered not so much as the proof of my genius, as the genuine
effusion of my love.”--“Verses,” cried Emilia with an air of
astonishment, “what verses? I really don't understand you.”
The young gentleman was thunderstruck at this exclamation; to which,
after a long pause, he answered: “I begin to suspect, and heartily wish
it may appear, that we have misunderstood each other from the beginning.
Pray, Miss Gauntlet, did you not find a copy of verses inclosed in that
unfortunate letter?”--“Truly, sit,” said the lady, “I am not so much of
a connoisseur as to distinguish whether that facetious production, which
you merrily style as an unfortunate letter, was composed in verse or
prose; but methinks, the jest is a little too stale to be brought upon
the carpet again.” So saying, she tripped away to her companion, and
left her lover in a most tumultuous suspense. He now perceived that her
neglect of his addresses when he was at Winchester, must have been owing
to some mystery which he could not comprehend; and she began to suspect
and to hope that the letter which she received was spurious, though
she could not conceive how that could possibly happen, as it had been
delivered to her by the hands of his own servant.
However, she resolved to leave the task of unravelling this affair to
him, who, she knew, would infallibly exert himself for his own as well
as her satisfaction. She was not deceived in her opinion: he went up
to her again at the staircase, and, as they were improvided with a male
attendant, insisted upon squiring the ladies to their lodgings. Emilia
saw his drift, which was no other than to know where she lived; and
though she approved of his contrivance, thought it was incumbent upon
her, for the support of her own dignity, to decline the chivalry;
she therefore thanked him for his polite offer, but would by no means
consent to his giving himself such unnecessary trouble, especially as
they had a very little way to walk. He was not repulsed by this refusal,
the nature of which he perfectly understood; nor was she sorry to see
him persevere in his determination: he therefore accompanied them
in their return, and made divers efforts to speak with Emilia in
particular; but she had a spice of the coquette in her disposition,
and being determined to whet his impatience, artfully baffled all
his endeavours, by keeping her companion continually engaged in the
conversation, which turned upon the venerable appearance and imperial
situation of the place. Thus tantalized, he lounged with them to the
door of the house in which they lodged, when his mistress, perceiving,
by the countenance of her comrade, that she was on the point of desiring
him to walk in, checked her intention with a frown; then, turning to Mr.
Pickle, dropped him a very formal curtsy, seized the other young lady by
the arm, and saying, “Come, cousin Sophy,” vanished in a moment.