MR. VERDANT GREEN'S MORNING REFLECTIONS ARE NOT SO
PLEASANT AS HIS EVENING DIVERSIONS.
MR. SMALLS' room was filled with smoke and noise. Supper had been
cleared away; the glasses were now sparkling on the board, and the
wine was ruby bright. The table, moreover, was supplied with
spirituous liquors and mixtures of all descriptions, together with
many varieties of "cup," - a cup which not only cheers, but
occasionally inebriates; and this miscellany of liquids was now being
drunk on the premises by some score and a half of gentlemen, who were
sitting round the table, and standing or lounging about in various
parts of the room. Heading the table, sat the host, loosely attired
in a neat dressing gown of crimson and blue, in an attitude which
allowed him to swing his legs easily, if not gracefully, over the arm
of his chair, and to converse cheerfully with Charles Larkyns, who
was leaning over the chair-back. Visible to the naked eye, on Mr.
Smalls' left hand, appeared the white tie and full evening dress
which decorated the person of Mr. Verdant Green.
A great consumption of tobacco was going on, not only through the
medium of cigars, but also of meerschaums, short "dhudheens" of
envied colour, and the genuine yard of clay; and Verdant, while he
was scarcely aware of what he was doing, found himself, to his great
amazement, with a real cigar in his mouth, which he was industriously
sucking, and with great difficulty keeping alight. Our hero felt
that the unexpected exigencies of the case demanded from him some
sacrifice; while he consoled himself by the reflection, that, on the
homoeopathic principle of "likes cure likes," a cigar was the best
preventive against any ill effects arising from the combination of
the thirty gentlemen who were generating smoke with all the ardour of
lime-kilns or young volcanoes, and filling Mr. Smalls' small room
with an atmosphere that was of the smoke, smoky. Smoke produces
thirst; and the cup, punch, egg-flip, sherry-cobblers, and other
liquids, which had been so liberally provided, were being consumed by
the members of the party as though it had been their drink from
childhood; while the conversation was of a kind very different to
what our hero had anticipated, being for the most part vapid and
unmeaning, and (must it be confessed?) occasionally too highly
flavoured with improprieties for it to be faithfully recorded in
these pages of most perfect propriety.
The literature of ancient Greece and Rome was not even referred to;
and when Verdant, who, from the unusual com-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 73]
bination of the smoke and liquids, was beginning to feel extremely
amiable and talkative, - made a reflective observation (addressed to
the company generally) which sounded like the words "Nunc vino
pellite curas, Cras ingens,"* - he was immediately interrupted by the
voice of Mr. Bouncer, crying out, "Who's that talking shop about
engines? Holloa, Giglamps!" - Mr. Bouncer, it must be observed, had
facetiously adopted the ~sobriquet~ which had been bestowed on
<VG073.JPG> Verdant and his spectacles on their first appearance
outside the Oxford coach, - "Holloa, Giglamps, is that you
ill-treating the dead languages? I'm ashamed of you! a venerable
party like you ought to be above such things. There! don't blush,
old feller, but give us a song! It's the punishment for talking shop,
you know."
There was an immediate hammering of tables and jingling of glasses,
accompanied with loud cries of "Mr. Green for a song! Mr. Green! Mr.
Giglamps' song!" cries which nearly brought our hero to the verge of
idiotcy.
Charles Larkyns saw this, and came to the rescue. "Gentlemen," he
said, addressing the company, "I know that my friend Verdant ~can~
sing, and that, like a good bird, he ~will~
---
* Horace, car. i od. vii
-=-
[74 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
sing. But while he is mentally looking over his numerous stock of
songs, and selecting one for our amusement, I beg to fill up our
valuable time, by asking you to fill up a bumper to the health of our
esteemed host Smalls (~vociferous cheers~) - a man whose private
worth is only to be equalled by the purity of his milk-punch and the
excellence of his weeds (~hear hear~). Bumpers, gentlemen, and no
heel-taps! and though I am sorry to interfere with Mr. Fosbrooke's
private enjoyments, yet I must beg to suggest to him that he has been
so much engaged in drowning his personal cares in the bowl over which
he is so skilfully presiding, that my glass has been allowed to
sparkle on the board empty and useless." And as Charles Larkyns held
out his glass towards Mr. Fosbrooke and the punch-bowl, he trolled
out, in a rich, manly voice, old Cowley's anacreontic:
"Fill up the bowl then, fill it high!
Fill all the glasses there! For why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?"
By the time that the "man of morals" had ladled out for the company,
and that Mr. Smalls' health had been drunk and responded to amid
uproarious applause, Charles Larkyns' friendly diversion in our
hero's favour had succeeded, and Mr. Verdant Green had regained his
confidence, and had decided upon one of those vocal efforts which, in
the bosom of his own family, and to the pianoforte accompaniment of
his sisters, was accustomed to meet with great applause. And when he
had hastily tossed off another glass of milk-punch (merely to clear
his throat), he felt bold enough to answer the spirit-rappings which
were again demanding "Mr. Green's song!" It was given much in the
following manner:
~Mr. Verdant Green (in low plaintive tones, and fresh alarm at
hearing the sounds of his own voice)~. "I dreamt that I dwe-elt in
mar-arble halls, with" -
~Mr. Bouncer (interrupting)~. "Spit it out, Giglamps! Dis child
can't hear whether it's Maudlin Hall you're singing about, or what."
~Omnes~. "Order! or-~der~! Shut up, Bouncer!"
~Charles Larkyns (encouragingly)~. "Try back, Verdant: never mind."
~Mr. Verdant Green (tries back, with increased confusion of ideas,
resulting principally from the milk-punch and tobacco)~. "I dreamt
that I dwe-elt in mar-arble halls, with vassals and serfs at my
si-hi-hide; and - and - I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I really
forget - oh, I know! - and I also dre-eamt, which ple-eased me most -
no, that's not it" -
~Mr. Bouncer (who does not particularly care for the words of a
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 75]
song, but only appreciates the chorus)~ - "That'll do, old feller! We
aint pertickler,-(~rushes with great deliberation and noise to the
chorus~) "That you lo-oved me sti-ill the sa-ha-hame - chorus,
gentlemen!"
~Omnes (in various keys and time)~. "That you lo-oved me sti-ill the
same."
~Mr. Bouncer (to Mr. Green, alluding remotely to the opera)~. "Now
my Bohemian gal, can't you come out to-night? Spit us out a yard or
two more, Giglamps."
~Mr. Verdant Green (who has again taken the opportunity to clear his
throat)~. "I dreamt that I dwe-elt in mar-arble- no! I beg pardon!
sang that (~desperately~) - that sui-uitors sou-ught my hand, that
knights on their (~hic~) ben-ended kne-e-ee - had (~hic~) riches too
gre-eat to" - (~Mr. Verdant Green smiles benignantly upon the
company~) - "Don't rec'lect anymo."
~Mr. Bouncer (who is not to be defrauded of the chorus)~. "Chorus,
gentlemen! - That you'll lo-ove me sti-ill the sa-a-hame!"
~Omnes (ad libitum)~. "That you'll lo-ove me sti-ill the same!"
Though our hero had ceased to sing, he was still continuing to clear
his throat by the aid of the milk-punch, and was again industriously
sucking his cigar, which he had not yet succeeded in getting half
through, although he had re-lighted it about twenty times. All this
was observed by the watchful eyes of Mr. Bouncer, who, whispering to
his neighbour, and bestowing a distributive wink on the company
generally, rose and made the following remarks:-
"Mr. Smalls, and gents all: I don't often get on my pins to trouble
you with a neat and appropriate speech; but on an occasion like the
present, when we are honoured with the presence of a party who has
just delighted us with what I may call a flood of harmony (~hear,
hear~), - and has pitched it so uncommon strong in the vocal line, as to
considerably take the shine out of the woodpecker-tapping, that we've
read of in the pages of history (~hear, hear: "Go it again,
Bouncer!"~), - when, gentlemen, I see before me this old original
Little Wobbler, - need I say that I allude to Mr. Verdant Green? -
(~vociferous cheers~)- I feel it a sort of, what you call a
privilege, d'ye see, to stand on my pins, and propose that respected
party's jolly good health (~renewed cheers~). Mr. Verdant Green,
gentlemen, has but lately come among us, and is, in point of fact,
what you call a freshman; but, gentlemen, we've already seen enough
of him to feel aware that - that Brazenface has gained an
acquisition, which - which - (~cries of "Tally-ho! Yoicks! Hark
forrud!"~) Exactly so, gentlemen: so, as I see you are all anxious to
do honour to our freshman, I beg, without further preface, to give
you the health of Mr. Verdant Green! With all the honours. Chorus,
gents!
[76 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
"For he's a jolly good fellow!
For he's a jolly good fellow!!
For he's a jolly good f-e-e-ell-ow!!!
Which nobody can deny!"
This chorus was taken up and prolonged in the most indefinite manner;
little Mr. Bouncer fairly revelling in it, and only regretting that
he had not his post-horn with him to further contribute to the
harmony of the evening. It seemed to be a great art in the singers
of the chorus to dwell as long as possible on the third repetition of
the word "fellow," and in the most defiant manner to pounce down on
the bold affirmation by which it is followed; and then to lyrically
proclaim that, not only was it a way they had in the Varsity to drive
dull care away, but that the same practice was also pursued in the
army and navy for the attainment of a similar end.
When the chorus had been sung over three or four times, and Mr.
Verdant Green's name had been proclaimed with equal noise, that
gentleman rose (with great difficulty), to return thanks. He was
understood to speak as follows: <VG076.JPG>
"Genelum anladies (~cheers~), - I meangenelum. (~"That's about the
ticket, old feller!" from Mr. Bouncer.~) Customd syam plic speakn, I
- I -(~hear, hear~) - feel bliged drinkmyel. I'm fresman, genelum,
and prowtitle (~loud cheers~). Myfren Misserboucer, fallowme callm
myfren! (~"In course, Giglamps, you do me proud, old feller."~)
Myfren Misserboucer seszime fresman - prow title, sureyou (~hear,
hear~). Genelmun, werall jolgoodfles, anwe wogohotillmorrin! (~"We
won't, we won't! not a bit of it!"~) Gelmul, I'm fresmal, an
namesgreel, gelmul (~cheers~). Fanyul dousmewor,
herescardinpock'lltellm! Misser Verdalgreel, Braseface, Oxul
fresmal, anprowtitle! (~Great cheering and rattling of glasses,
during which Mr. Verdant Green's coat-tails are made the receptacles
for empty bottles, lobsters' claws, and other miscellaneous
articles.~) Misserboucer said was fresmal. If Misserboucer
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 77]
wantsultme (~"No, no!"~), herescardinpocklltellm namesverdalgreel,
Braseface! Not shameofitgelmul! prowtitle! (~Great applause.~) I
doewaltilsul Misserboucer! thenwhysee sultme? thaswaw Iwaltknow!
(~Loud cheers, and roars of laughter, in which Mr. Verdant Green
suddenly joins to the best of his ability.~) I'm anoxful fresmal,
gelmul, 'fmyfrel Misserboucer loumecallimso. (~Cheers and laughter,
in which Mr. Verdant Green feebly joins.~) Anweerall jolgoodfles,
anwe wogohotilmorril, an I'm fresmal, gelmul, anfanyul dowsmewor -
an I - doefeel quiwell!"
This was the termination of Mr. Verdant Green's speech, for after
making a few unintelligible sounds, his knees suddenly gave way, and
with a benevolent smile he disappeared beneath the table.
* * * * * * * *
Half an hour afterwards two gentlemen might have been seen, bearing
with staggering steps across the moonlit quad the <VG077.JPG> huddled
form of a third gentleman, who was clothed in full evening dress, and
appeared incapable of taking care of himself. The two first
gentlemen set down their burden under an open doorway, painted over
with a large _4_; and then, by pulling and pushing, assisted it to
guide its steps up a narrow and intricate staircase, until they had
gained the third floor, and stood before a door, over which the
moonlight revealed, in newly-painted white letters, the name of "MR.
VERDANT GREEN."
"Well, old feller," said the first gentleman, "how do you feel now,
after 'Sich a getting up stairs'?"
"Feel much berrer now," said their late burden; "feel quite-comfurble!
Shallgotobed!"
"Well, Giglamps," said the first speaker, "and By-by won't be at all
a bad move for you. D'ye think you can unrig yourself and get
between the sheets, eh, my beauty?"
"Its allri, allri!" was the reply; "limycandle!"
"No, no," said the second gentleman, as he pulled up the
window-blind, and let in the moonlight; "here's quite as much light
as you want. It's almost morning."
"Sotis," said the gentleman in the evening costume: "anlittlebirds
beginsingsoon! Ilike littlebirds sing! jollittlebirds!" The speaker
had suddenly fallen upon his bed, and was lying thereon at full
length, with his feet on the pillow.
[78 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
"He'll be best left in this way," said the second speaker, as he
removed the pillow to the proper place, and raised the prostrate
gentleman's head; "I'll take off his choker and make him easy about
the neck, and then we'll shut him up, and leave him. Why the beggar's
asleep already!" And so the two gentlemen went away, and left him
safe and sleeping.
It is conjectured, however, that he must have got up shortly after
this, and finding himself with his clothes on, must have considered
that a lighted candle was indispensably necessary to undress by; for
when Mrs. Tester came at her usual early hour to light the fires and
prepare the sitting-rooms, she discovered him lying on the carpet
embracing the coal-skuttle, <VG078.JPG> with a candle by his side.
The good woman raised him, and did not leave him until she had, in
the most motherly manner, safely tucked him up in bed.
* * *
Clink, clank! clink, clank! tingle, tangle! tingle, tangle! Are
demons smiting ringing hammers into Mr. Verdant Green's brain, or is
the dreadful bell summoning him to rise for morning chapel?
Mr. Filcher puts an end to the doubt by putting his head in at the
bedroom door, and saying, "Time for chapel, sir! Chapel," thought Mr.
Filcher; "here is a chap ill, indeed! - Bain't you well, sir?
Restless you look!"
Oh, the shame and agony that Mr. Verdant Green felt! The desire to
bury his head under the clothes, away from Robert's and everyone
else's sight; the fever that throbbed his brain and parched his lips,
and made him long to drink up Ocean; the eyes that felt like burning
lead; the powerless hands that trembled like a weak old man's; the
voice that came in faltering tones that jarred the brain at every
word! How he despised himself; how he loathed the very idea of wine;
how he resolved never, never to transgress so again! But perhaps Mr.
Verdant Green was not the only Oxford freshman who has made this
resolution.
"Bain't you well, sir?" repeated Mr. Filcher, with a passing thought
that freshmen were sadly degenerating, and could
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 79]
not manage their three bottles as they did when he was first a scout:
"bain't you well, sir?"
"Not very well, Robert, thank you. I - my head aches, and I'm afraid
I shall not be able to get up for chapel. Will the Master be very
angry?"
"Well, he ~might~ be, you see, sir," replied Mr. Filcher, who never
lost an opportunity of making anything out of his master's
infirmities; "but if you'll leave it to me, sir, I'll make it all
right for you, ~I~ will. Of course you'd like to take out an
~aeger~, sir; and I can bring you your Commons just the same. Will
that do, sir?".
"Oh, thank you; yes, any thing. You will find five shillings in my
waistcoat-pocket, Robert; please to take it; but I can't eat."
"Thank'ee, sir," said the scout, as he abstracted the five shillings;
"but you'd better have a bit of somethin', sir; - a cup of strong
tea, or somethin'. Mr. Smalls, sir, when he were pleasant, he always
had beer, sir; but p'raps you ain't been used to bein' pleasant, sir,
and slops might suit you better, sir."
"Oh, any thing, any thing!" groaned our poor, unheroic hero, as he
turned his face to the wall, and endeavoured to recollect in what way
he had been "pleasant" the night before. But, alas! the wells of his
memory had, for the time, been poisoned, and nothing clear or pure
could be drawn therefrom. So he got up and looked at himself in the
glass, and scarcely recognized the tangled-haired, sallow-faced
wretch, whose bloodshot eyes gazed heavily at him from the mirror.
So he nervously drained the water-bottle, and buried himself once
more among the tossed and tumbled bed-clothes.
The tea really did him some good, and enabled him to recover
sufficient nerve to go feebly through the operation of dressing;
though it was lucky that nature had not yet brought Mr. Verdant Green
to the necessity of shaving, for the handling of a razor might have
been attended with suicidal results, and have brought these veracious
memoirs and their hero to an untimely end.
He had just sat down to a second edition of tea, and was reading a
letter that the post had brought him from his sister Mary, in which
she said, "I dare say by this time you have found Mr. Charles Larkyns
a very ~delightful~ companion, and I ~am sure~ a very ~valuable~ one;
as, from what the rector says, he appears to be so ~steady~, and has
such ~nice quiet~ companions:" - our hero had read as far as this,
when a great noise just without his door, caused the letter to drop
from his trembling hands; and, between loud ~fanfares~ from a
post-horn, and heavy thumps upon the oak, a voice was heard,
demanding "Entrance in the Proctor's name."
[80 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
Mr. Verdant Green had for the first time "sported his oak." Under
any circumstances it would have been a mere form, since his bashful
politeness would have induced him to open it to any comer; but, at
the dreaded name of the Proctor, he sprang from his chair, and while
impositions, rustications, and expulsions rushed tumultuously through
his disordered brain, he nervously undid the springlock, and admitted
- not the Proctor, but the "steady" Mr. Charles Larkyns and his "nice
quiet companion," little Mr. Bouncer, who testified his joy at the
success of their ~coup d'etat~, by blowing on his horn loud blasts
that might have been borne by Fontarabian echoes, and which rang
through poor Verdant's head with indescribable jarrings.
"Well, Verdant," said Charles Larkyns, "how do you find yourself this
morning? You look rather shaky."
"He ain't a very lively picter, is he?" remarked little Mr. Bouncer,
with the air of a connoisseur; "peakyish you feel, don't you, now,
with a touch of the mulligrubs in your collywobbles? Ah, I know what
it is, my boy."
It was more than our hero did; and he could only reply that he did
not feel very well. "I - I had a glass of claret after some
lobster-salad, and I think it disagreed with me."
"Not a doubt of it, Verdant," said Charles Larkyns very gravely; "it
would have precisely the same effect that the salmon always has at a
public dinner, - bring on great hilarity, succeeded by a pleasing
delirium, and concluding in a horizontal position, and a demand for
soda-water."
"I hope," said our hero, rather faintly, "that I did not conduct
myself in an unbecoming manner last night; for I am sorry to say that
I do not remember all that occurred."
"I should think not, Giglamps, You were as drunk as a besom," said
little Mr. Bouncer, with a side wink to Mr. Larkyns, to prepare that
gentleman for what was to follow. "Why, you got on pretty well till
old Slowcoach came in, and then you certainly did go it, and no
mistake!"
"Mr. Slowcoach!" groaned the freshman. "Good gracious! is it
possible that ~he~ saw me? I don't remember it."
"And it would be lucky for you if ~he~ didn't," replied Mr, Bouncer.
"Why his rooms, you know, are in the same angle of the quad as
Smalls'; so, when you came to shy the empty bottles out of Smalls'
window at ~his~ window -"
"Shy empty bottles! Oh!" gasped the freshman.
"Why, of course, you see, he couldn't stand that sort of game, - it
wasn't to be expected; so he puts his head out of the bedroom window,
- and then, don't you remember crying out, as you pointed to the
tassel of his night-cap sticking up straight
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 81]
on end, 'Tally-ho! Unearth'd at last! Look at his brush!' Don't you
remember that, Giglamps?"
"Oh, oh, no!" groaned Mr. Bouncer's victim; "I can't remember, - oh,
what ~could~ have induced me!"
"By Jove, you ~must~ have been screwed! Then I daresay you don't
remember wanting to have a polka with him, when he came up to Smalls'
rooms?"
"A polka! Oh dear! Oh no! Oh!"
"Or asking him if his mother knew he was out, - and what he'd take for
his cap without the tassel; and telling him that he was the joy of
your heart, - and that you should never be happy unless he'd smile as
he was won't to smile, and would love you then as now, - and saying all
sorts of bosh? What, not remember it! 'Oh, what a noble mind is
here o'erthrown!' as some cove says in Shakespeare. But how screwed
you ~must~ have been, Giglamps!"
"And do you think," inquired our hero, after a short but sufficiently
painful reflection, - "do you think that Mr. Slowcoach will - oh! -
expel me?"
"Why, it's rather a shave for it," replied his tormentor; "but the
best thing you can do is to write an apology at once: pitch it pretty
strong in the pathetic line, - say it's your first offence, and that
you'll never be a naughty boy again, and all that sort of thing. You
just do that, Giglamps, and I'll see that the note goes to - the
proper place."
"Oh, thank you!" said the freshman; and while, with equal difficulty
from agitation both of mind and body, he composed and penned the
note, Mr. Bouncer ordered up some buttery <VG081.JPG> beer, and
Charles Larkyns prepared some soda-water with a dash of brandy, which
he gave Verdant to drink, and which considerably refreshed that
gentleman. "And I should advise you," he said, "to go out for a
constitutional; for walking-time's come, although you have but just
done your breakfast. A blow up Headington Hill will do you good, and
set you on your legs again."
So Verdant, after delivering up his note to Mr. Bouncer, took his
friend's advice, and set out for his constitutional in his cap and
gown, feeling afraid to move without them, lest he
[82 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
should thereby trespass some law. This, of course, gained him some
attention after he had crossed Magdalen Bridge; and he might have
almost been taken for the original of that impossible gownsman who
appears in Turner's well-known "View of Oxford, from Ferry Hincksey,"
as wandering-
"Remote, unfriended, solitary, ~slow,~" -
in a corn-field, in the company of an umbrella!
Among the many pedestrians and equestrians that he encountered, our
freshman espied a short and very stout gentleman, whose shovel-hat,
short apron, and general decanical costume, proclaimed him to be a
don of some importance. <VG082.JPG>
He was riding a pad-nag, who ambled placidly along, without so much
as hinting at an outbreak into a canter; a performance that, as it
seemed, might have been attended with disastrous consequences to his
rider. Our hero noticed, that the trio of undergraduates who were
walking before him, while they passed others, who were evidently
dons, without the slightest notice (being in mufti), yet not only
raised their hats to the stout gentleman, but also separated for that
purpose, and performed the salute at intervals of about ten yards.
And he further remarked, that while the stout gentleman appeared to
be exceedingly gratified at the notice he received, yet that he had
also very great difficulty in returning the rapid salutations; and
only accomplished them and retained his seat by catching at the
pommel of his saddle, or the mane of his steed, - a proceeding which
the pad-nag seemed perfectly used to.
Mr. Verdant Green returned home from his walk, feeling all the better
for the fresh air and change of scene; but he still
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 83]
looked, as his neighbour, Mr. Bouncer, kindly informed him, "uncommon
seedy, and doosid fishy about the eyes;" and it was some days even
before he had quite recovered from the novel excitement of Mr.
Smalls' "quiet party."