MR. VERDANT GREEN REFORMS HIS TAILORS' BILLS AND RUNS
UP OTHERS. HE ALSO APPEARS IN A RAPID ACT OF
HORSEMANSHIP, AND FINDS ISIS COOL IN SUMMER.
THE state of Mr. Verdant Green's outward man had long offended Mr.
Charles Larkyns' more civilized taste; and he one day took occasion
delicately to hint to his friend, that it would conduce more to his
appearance as an Oxford undergraduate, if he forswore the primitive
garments that his country-tailor had condemned him to wear, and
adapted the "build" of his dress to the peculiar requirements of
university fashion.
Acting upon this friendly hint, our freshman at once betook himself
to the shop where he had bought his cap and gown, and found its
proprietor making use of the invisible soap and washing his hands in
the imperceptible water, as though he had not left that act of
imaginary cleanliness since Verdant and his father had last seen him.
"Oh, certainly, sir; an abundant variety," was his reply to Verdant's
question, if he could show him any patterns that were fashionable in
Oxford. "The greatest stock hout of London, I should say, sir,
decidedly. This is a nice unpretending gentlemanly thing, sir, that
we make up a good deal!" and he spread a shaggy substance before the
freshman's eyes.
"What do you make it up for?" inquired our hero, who thought it more
nearly resembled the hide of his lamented ~Mop~ than any other
substance.
"Oh, morning garments, sir! Reading and walking-coats, for erudition
and the promenade, sir! Looks well with vest of the same material,
sprinkled down with coral currant buttons! We've some sweet things in
vests, sir; and some neat, quiet trouserings, that I'm sure would give
satisfaction." And the tailor and robe-maker, between washings with
the invisible soap, so visibly "soaped" our hero in what is
understood to
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 93]
be the shop-sense of the word, and so surrounded him with a perfect
irradiation of aggressive patterns of oriental gorgeousness, that Mr.
Verdant Green <VG093.JPG> became bewildered, and finally made choice
of one of the unpretending gentlemanly ~mop~-like coats, and "vest
and trouserings," of a neat, quiet, plaid-pattern, in red and green,
which, he was informed, were all the rage.
When these had been sent home to him, together with a neck-tie of
Oxford-blue from Randall's, and an immaculate guinea
Lincoln-and-Bennett, our hero was delighted with the general effect
of the costume; and after calling in at the tailor's to express his
approbation, he at once sallied forth to "do the High," and display
his new purchases. A drawn silk bonnet of pale lavender, from which
floated some bewitching ringlets, quickly attracted our hero's
attention; and the sight of an arch, French-looking face, which (to
his short-sighted imagination) smiled upon him as the young lady
rustled by, immediately plunged him into the depths of first-love.
Without the slightest encouragement being given him, he stalked this
little deer to her lair, and, after some difficulty, discovered the
enchantress to be Mademoiselle Mouslin de Laine, one of the presiding
goddesses of a fancy hosiery warehouse. There, for the next fortnight,
- until which immense period his ardent passion had not subsided, -
our hero was daily to be seen purchasing articles for which he had no
earthly use, but fully recompensed for his outlay by the artless
(ill-natured people said, artful) smiles, and engaging, piquant
conversation of mademoiselle. Our hero, when reminded of this at a
subsequent period, protested that he had thus acted merely to improve
his French, and only conversed with mademoiselle for educational
purposes. But we have our doubts. ~Credat Judaeus!~
About this time also our hero laid the nest-eggs for a very pro-
[94 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
mising brood of bills, by acquiring an expensive habit of strolling
in to shops, and purchasing "an extensive assortment of articles of
<VG094.JPG> every description," for no other consideration than that
he should not be called upon to pay for them until he had taken his
degree. He also decorated the walls of his rooms with choice
specimens of engravings: for the turning over of portfolios at
Ryman's, and Wyatt's, usually leads to the eventual turning over of a
considerable amount of cash; and our hero had not yet become
acquainted with the cheaper circulating-system of pictures, which
gives you a fresh set every term, and passes on your old ones to some
other subscriber. But, in the meantime, it is very delightful, when
you admire any thing, to be able to say, "Send that to my room!" and
to be obsequiously obeyed, "no questions asked," and no payment
demanded; and as for the future, why - as Mr. Larkyns observed, as
they strolled down the High - "I suppose the bills ~will~ come in
some day or other, but the governor will see to them; and though he
may grumble and pull a long face, yet he'll only be too glad you've
got your degree, and, in the fulness of his heart, he will open his
cheque-book. I daresay old Horace gives very good advice when he
says, 'carpe diem'; but when he adds, 'quam minimum credula
postero,'* about 'not giving the least credit to the succeeding day,'
it is clear that he never looked forward to the Oxford tradesmen and
the credit-system. Do you ever read Wordsworth, Verdant?" continued
Mr. Larkyns, as they stopped at the corner of Oriel Street, to look
in at a spacious range of shop-windows, that were crowded with a
costly and glittering profusion of ~papier mache~ articles,
statuettes, bronzes, glass, and every kind of "fancy goods" that
could be classed as "art-workmanship."
"Why, I've not read much of Wordsworth myself," replied
---
* Car. i. od. xi.
-=-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 95]
our hero; "but I've heard my sister Mary read a great deal of his
poetry."
"Shews her taste," said Charles Larkyns. "Well, this shop - you see
the name - is Spiers'; and Wordsworth, in his sonnet to Oxford, has
immortalized him. Don't you remember the lines?-
'O ye Spiers of Oxford! your presence overpowers
The soberness of reason!'*
It was very queer that Wordsworth should ascribe to Messrs. Spiers
all the intoxication of the place; but then he was a <VG095.JPG>
Cambridge man, and prejudiced. Nice shop, though, isn't it?
Particularly useful, and no less ornamental. It's one of the
greatest lounges of the place. Let us go in and have a look at what
Mrs. Caudle calls the articles of bigotry and virtue."
Mr. Verdant Green was soon deeply engaged in an inspection of those
~papier-mache~ "remembrances of Oxford" for which the Messrs. Spiers
are so justly famed; but after turning over tables, trays, screens,
desks, albums, portfolios, and other things, - all of which displayed
views of Oxford from every variety of aspect, and were executed with
such truth and perception of the higher qualities of art, that they
formed in
---
* We suspect that Mr. Larkyns is again intentionally deceiving his
freshman friend; for on looking into our Wordsworth (~Misc. Son.~
iii. 2) we find that the poet does ~not~ refer to the establishment
of Messrs. Spiers and Son, and that the lines, truly quoted, are,
"O ye ~spires~ of Oxford! domes and towers!
Gardens and groves! Your presence," &c.
We blush for Mr. Larkyns!
-=-
[96 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
themselves quite a small but gratuitous Academy exhibition, - our hero
became so confused among the bewildering allurements around him, as
to feel quite an ~embarras de richesses~, and to be in a state of
mind in which he was nearly giving Mr. Spiers the most extensive (and
expensive) order which probably that gentleman had ever received from
an undergraduate. Fortunately for his purse, his attention was
somewhat distracted by perceiving that Mr. Slowcoach was at his
elbow, looking over ink-stands and reading-lamps, and also by Charles
Larkyns calling upon him to decide whether he should have the
cigar-case he had purchased emblazoned with the heraldic device of
the Larkyns, or illuminated with the Euripidean motto,-
{To bakchikon doraema labe, se gar philo.}
When this point had been decided, Mr. Larkyns proposed to Verdant
that he should astonish and delight his governor by having the Green
arms emblazoned on a fire-screen, and taking it home with him as a
gift. "Or else," he said, "order one with the garden-view of
Brazenface, and then they'll have more satisfaction in looking at
that than at one of those offensive cockatoos, in an arabesque
landscape, under a bronze sky, which usually sprawls over every thing
that is ~papier mache~. But you won't see that sort of thing here; so
you can't well go wrong, whatever you buy." Finally, Mr. Verdant
Green (N.B. Mr. Green, senior, would have eventually to pay the bill)
ordered a fire-screen to be prepared with the family-arms, as a
present for his father; a ditto, with the view of his college, for
his mother; a writing-case, with the High Street view, for his aunt;
a netting-box, card-case, and a model of the Martyrs' Memorial, for
his three sisters; and having thus bountifully remembered his
family-circle, he treated himself with a modest paper-knife, and was
treated in return by Mr. Spiers with a perfect ~bijou~ of art, in the
shape of "a memorial for visitors to Oxford," in which the chief
glories of that city were set forth in gold and colours, in the most
attractive form, and which our hero immediately posted off to the
Manor Green.
"And now, Verdant," said Mr. Larkyns, "you may just as well get a
hack, and come for a ride with me. You've kept up your riding, of
course."
"Oh, yes - a little!" faltered our hero.
Now, the reader may perhaps remember, that in an early part of our
veracious chronicle we hinted that Mr. Verdant Green's equestrian
performances were but of a humble character. They were, in fact,
limited to an occasional ride with his sisters when they required a
cavalier; but on these occasions, the old cob, which Verdant called
his own, was warranted not
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 97]
to kick, or plunge, or start, or do anything derogatory to its age
and infirmities. So that Charles Larkyns' proposition caused him
some little nervous agitation; nevertheless, as he was ashamed to
confess his fears, he, in a moment of weakness, consented to
accompany his friend.
"We'll go to Symonds'," said Mr. Larkyns; "I keep my hack there; and
you can depend upon having a good one."
So they made their way to Holywell Street, and turned under a
gateway, and up a paved yard, to the stables. The upper part of the
yard was littered down with straw, and covered in by a light, open
roof; and in the stables there was accommodation for a hundred
horses. At the back of the stables, and separated from the Wadham
Gardens by a narrow lane, was a paddock; and here they found Mr.
Fosbrooke, and one or two of his friends, inspecting the leaping
abilities of a fine hunter, which one of the stable-boys was taking
backwards and forwards over the hurdles and fences erected for that
purpose.
The horses were soon ready, and Verdant summoned up enough courage to
say, with the Count in ~Mazeppa~, "Bring forth the steed!" And when
the steed was brought, in all the exuberance of (literally) animal
spirits, he felt that he was about to be another Mazeppa, and perform
feats on the back of a wild horse; and he could not help saying to
the ostler, "He looks rather -vicious, I'm afraid!"
"Wicious, sir," replied the groom; "bless you, sir! she's as
sweet-tempered as any young ooman you ever paid your intentions to.
The mare's as quiet a mare as was ever crossed; this 'ere's ony her
play at comin' fresh out of the stable!"
Verdant, however, had a presentiment that the play would soon become
earnest; but he seated himself in the saddle (after a short delirious
dance on one toe), and in a state of extreme agitation, not to say
perspiration, proceeded at a walk, by Mr. Larkyns' side, up Holywell
Street. Here the mare, who doubtless soon understood what sort of
rider she had got on her back, began to be more demonstrative of the
"fresh"ness of her animal spirits. Broad Street was scarcely broad
enough to contain the series of ~tableaux vivants~ and heraldic
attitudes that she assumed. "Don't pull the curb-rein so!" shouted
Charles Larkyns; but Verdant was in far too dreadful a state of mind
to understand what he said, or even to know which ~was~ the
curb-rein; and after convulsively clutching at the mane and the
pommel, in his endeavours to keep his seat, he first "lost his head,"
and then his seat, and ignominiously gliding over the mare's tail,
found that his lodging was on the cold ground. Relieved of her
burden, the mare quietly trotted back to her stables; while Verdant,
finding himself unhurt, got up, replaced his hat and spectacles,
[98 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
and registered a mental vow never to mount an Oxford hack again.
"Never mind, old fellow!" said Charles Larkyns, <VG098.JPG>
consolingly; "these little accidents ~will~ occur, you know, even
with the best regulated riders! There were not ~more~ than a dozen
ladies saw you, though you certainly made very creditable exertions
to ride over one or two of them. Well! if you say you won't go back
to Symonds', and get another hack, I must go on solus; but I shall
see you at the Bump-supper to-night! I got old Blades to ask you to
it. I'm going now in search of an appetite, and I should advise you
to take a turn round the Parks and do the same. ~Au re~ser~voir!~"
So our hero, after he had compensated the livery-stable keeper,
followed his friend's advice, and strolled round the neatly-kept
potato-gardens denominated "the Parks," looking in vain for the deer
that have never been there, and finding them represented only by
nursery-maids and - others.
* * * * * * * *
Mr. Blades, familiarly known as "old Blades" and "Billy," was a
gentleman who was fashioned somewhat after the model of the torso of
Hercules; and, as Stroke of the Brazenface boat, was held in high
estimation, not only by the men of his own college, but also by the
boating men of the University at large. His University existence
seemed to be engaged in one long struggle, the end and aim of which
was to place the Brazenface boat in that envied position known in
aquatic anatomy as "the head of the river;" and in this struggle all
Mr. Blades' energies of mind and body, - though particularly of body, -
were engaged. Not a freshman was allowed to enter Brazenface, but
immediately Mr. Blades' eye was upon him; and if the expansion of the
upper part of his coat and waistcoat denoted that his muscular
development of chest and arms was of a kind that might be serviceable
to the great object aforesaid - the placing
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 99]
of the Brazenface boat at the head of the river, - then Mr. Blades
came and made flattering proposals to the new-comer to assist in the
great work. But he was also indefatigable, as secretary to his
college club, in seeking out all freshmen, even if their thews and
sinews were not muscular models, and inducing them to aid the
glorious cause by becoming members of the club. A Bump-supper - that
is, O ye uninitiated! a supper to commemorate the fact of the boat of
one college <VG099.JPG> having, in the annual races, bumped, or
touched the boat of another college immediately in its front, thereby
gaining a place towards the head of the river, - a Bump-supper was a
famous opportunity for discovering both the rowing and paying
capabilities of freshmen, who, in the enthusiasm of the moment, would
put down their two or three guineas, and at once propose their names
to be enrolled as members at the next meeting of the club.
And thus it was with Mr. Verdant Green, who, before the evening was
over, found that he had not only given in his name ("proposed by
Charles Larkyns, Esq., seconded by Henry Bouncer, Esq."), but that a
desire was burning within his breast to distinguish himself in
aquatic pursuits. Scarcely any thing else was talked of during the
whole evening but the prospective chances of Brazenface bumping
Balliol and Brasenose, and thereby getting to the head of the river.
It was also mysteriously whispered, that Worcester and Christ Church
were doing well, and might prove formidable; and that Exeter, Lincoln,
[100 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
and Wadham were very shady, and not doing the things that were
expected of them. Great excitement too was caused by the
announcement, that the Balliol stroke had knocked up, or knocked
down, or done some thing which Mr. Verdant Green concluded he ought
not to have done; and that the Brasenose bow had been seen with a
cigar in his mouth, and also eating pastry in Hall, -things shocking
in themselves, and quite contrary to all training principles. Then
there were anticipations of Henley; and criticisms on the new eight
out-rigger <VG100.JPG> that Searle was laying down for the University
crew; and comparisons between somebody's stroke and somebody else's
spurt; and a good deal of reference to Clasper and Coombes, and
Newall and Pococke, who might have been heathen deities for all that
our hero knew, and from the manner in which they were mentioned.
The aquatic desires that were now burning in Mr. Verdant Green's
breast could only be put out by the water; so to the river he next
day went, and, by Charles Larkyns' advice, made his first essay in a
"tub" from Hall's. Being a complete novice with the oars, our hero
had no sooner pulled off his coat and given a pull, than he
succeeded in catching a tremendous "crab," the effect of which was to
throw him backwards, and almost to upset the boat. Fortunately,
however, "tubs" recover their equilibrium almost as easily as
tombolas, and "the Sylph" did not belie its character; so the
freshman again assumed a proper position, and was shoved off with a
boat-hook. At first he made some hopeless splashes in the stream,
the only effect of which was to make the boat turn with a circular
movement towards Folly Bridge; but Charles Larkyns
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 101]
at once came to the rescue with the simple but energetic compendium
of boating instruction, "Put your oar in deep, and bring it out with
a jerk!"
Bearing this in mind, our hero's efforts met with well-merited
success; and he soon passed that mansion which, instead of cellars,
appears to have an ingenious system of small rivers to thoroughly
irrigate its foundations. One by one, too, he passed those
house-boats which are more like the Noah's <VG101.JPG> arks of
toy-shops than anything else, and sometimes contain quite as original
a mixture of animal specimens. Warming with his exertions, Mr.
Verdant Green passed the University barge in great style, just as the
eight was preparing to start; and though he was not able to "feather
his oars with skill and dexterity," like the jolly young waterman in
the song, yet his sleight-of-hand performances with them proved not
only a source of great satisfaction to the crews on the river, but
also to the promenaders on the shore.
He had left the Christ Church meadows far behind, and was beginning
to feel slightly exhausted by his unwonted exertions, when he reached
that bewildering part of the river termed "the Gut." So confusing
were the intestine commotions of this gut, that, after passing a
chequered existence as an aquatic shuttlecock, and being assailed
with a slang-dictionary-full of opprobrious epithets, Mr. Verdant
Green caught another
[102 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
tremendous crab, and before he could recover himself, the "tub"
received a shock, and, with a loud cry of "Boat ahead!" ringing in
his ears, the University Eight passed over the place where he and
"the Sylph" had so lately disported themselves.
With the wind nearly knocked out of his body by the blade of the
bow-oar striking him on the chest as he rose to the surface, our
unfortunate hero was immediately dragged from the water, in a
condition like that of the child in ~The Stranger~ (the only joke, by
the way, in that most dreary play) "not dead, but very wet!" and
forthwith placed in safety in his deliverer's boat.
"Hallo, Giglamps! who the doose had thought of seeing you here,
devouring Isis in this expensive way!" said a voice very coolly. And
our hero found that he had been rescued by little Mr. Bouncer, who
had been tacking up the river in company with Huz and Buz and his
meerschaum. "You ~have~ been and gone and done it now, young man!"
continued the vivacious little gentleman, as he surveyed our hero's
draggled and forlorn condition. "If you'd only a comb and a glass in
your hand, you'd look distressingly like a cross-breed with a
mermaid! You ain't subject to the whatdyecallems - the rheumatics,
are you? Because, if so, I could put you on shore at a tidy little
shop where you can get a glass of brandy-and-water, and have your
clothes dried; and then mamma won't scold."
"Indeed," chattered our hero, "I shall be very glad indeed; for I
feel - rather cold. But what am I to do with my boat?"
"Oh, the Lively Polly, or whatever her name is, will find her way
back safe enough. There are plenty of boatmen on the river who'll
see to her and take her back to her owner; and if you got her from
Hall's, I daresay she'll dream that she's dreamt in marble halls,
like you did, Giglamps, that night at Smalls', when you got wet in
rather a more lively style than you've done to-day. Now I'll tack
you up to that little shop I told you of."
So there our hero was put on shore, and Mr. Bouncer made fast his
boat and accompanied him; and did not leave him until he had seen him
between the blankets, drinking a glass of hot brandy-and-water, the
while his clothes were smoking before the fire.
This little adventure (for a time at least) checked Mr. Verdant
Green's aspirations to distinguish himself on the river; and he
therefore renounced the sweets of the Isis, and contented himself by
practising with a punt on the Cherwell. There, after repeatedly
overbalancing himself in the most suicidal manner, he at length
peacefully settled down into the lounging blissfulness of a "Cherwell
water-lily;" and on the hot days,
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 103]
among those gentlemen who had moored their punts underneath the
overhanging boughs of the willows and limes, and <VG103.JPG> beneath
their cool shade were lying, in ~dolce far niente~ fashion, with
their legs up and a weed in their mouth, reading the last new novel,
or some less immaculate work, - among these gentlemen might haply have
been discerned the form and spectacles of Mr. Verdant Green.