Chapter I: Now Leave You to Make as Much Noise as You Please (2)

This merit is claimed for them by the Oxford historians, and allowed by the historians of the stage, though they have not agreed of the exact period. We are informed, in Leland's Collectanea, that "the stage did vary three times in the acting of one tragedy." In other words, there were three scenes employed; but these, it is said by Chalmers, in his History of Oxford University, were the invention of Inigo Jones; and the exhibition, it appears, took place in the Hall of Christ Church, in 1636, (the year Wood places the invention in,) for the entertainment of the unfortunate Charles the First and his Queen, when, says our annalist, a comedy was performed for their amusement, entitled, "The Passions Calmed, or the Settling of the Floating," written by Strode, the Public Orator, and moveable scenery introduced with suitable variations; and though there is pretty conclusive evidence that this was not the first time _moveable scenes_, &c. had been introduced, it is evident they had not come into general use, from the fact that, after the departure of the King and his _suite_, the dresses and scenery were sent to Hampton Court, at the express desire of the Queen, but with a wish, suggested by the Chancellor of Oxford, the ill-fated Archbishop Laud, _that they might not come into the hands of the common players_, which was accordingly promised. Leland thinks, however, that _moveable scenes_ were better managed, before this, at Cambridge; and I know not, he says, whether the invention may not be carried back to the year 1583, when the celebrated Polish prince, Alesco, was at Oxford, and for whose entertainment, says Wood (who gives an interesting account of all the particulars of that famous Oxford gaudy,) the tragedy of Dido was acted in the Hall of Christ Church, decorated with scenes illustrative of the play, and the exhibition of "the tempest, wherein it rained small comfits, rose-water, and new artificial snow, was very strange to the beholders." But other authorities place the invention in 1605, when

JAMES THE FIRST AND HIS COURT CAME TO OXFORD,

And was entertained in the Hall of Christ Church, "with the Latin comedy of Vertumnus, written by Dr. Matthew Gwinne, of St. John's College, Oxford, and performed by the students of that house, without borrowing a single actor; and it was upon this occasion that the _humming_ of his Majesty took place, referred to in my Preface. In 1621, when James and his court happened to be at Woodstock, the scholars of Christ Church enacted Barton Holyday's comedy of [Greek: Technogamia], or the Marriage of the Arts: but his Majesty relished it so little, as to offer several times to withdraw, and was only prevented by some of his courtiers representing that his doing so would be a cruel disappointment. This incident gave rise to the well-known epigram--

"At Christ-Church marriage, done before the king,
Lest that those mates should want an offering,
The king himself did offer--what, I pray?
He offered twice or thrice to go away."

* * * * *

OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE SEEMED RIVALS

At this period. Wood states, in his Annals, that when King James was entertained at Oxford, in 1605, divers Cambridge scholars went thither out of novelty, to see and hear; and some that pretended to be wits made copies of verses on that solemnity, of which, he says, I have met with one that runs--

To Oxonforde the king is gone,
With all his mighty peers,
That hath in grace maintained us,
These four or five long years.

Such a king he hath been,
As the like was never seen:
Knights did ride by his side,
Evermore to be his guide:
A thousand knights, and forty thousand knights,
Knights of forty pounds a year.

which some attribute to one Lake. This example, he adds, was followed by the Oxonians, when James visited Cambridge in 1614, and "many idle songs" were made by them upon the proceedings at Cambridge, the most celebrated of which is the one entitled, "A Grave Poem, as it was presented in Latin by Divines and others, before his Majesty at Cambridge, by way of Enterlude, stiled 'Liber novus de adventu Regis ad Cantabrigiam,' faithfully done into English, with some liberal advantage, made rather to be sung than red, to the tune of 'Bonny Nell,'" which poem, says Wood, may be seen in the works of the witty Bishop Corbet (by whom it was written,) "printed in 1647." But in so saying our annalist not only _lies_ under a mistake, but Mr. Gutch, his editor, has not detected it. The poem is not in the edition of 1647, but in that of 1672, which is the third, corrected and enlarged, and "printed by J. C. for _William Crooke_, at the _Green Dragoon_, without Temple Bar;" as all may see who will consult the said editions, both extant in the library of the British Museum. The poem is comprised in twenty-six stanzas, as follows:--

It is not yet a fortnight, since
Lutetia entertained our Prince,
And wasted both a studied toy,
As long as was the siege of _Troy_:
And spent herself for full five days
In _speeches_, _exercise_, and _plays_.

To trim the town, great care before
Was tane by th' Lord _Vice-Chancellor_,
Both morn and eve he cleared the way,
The streets he gravell'd thrice a day;
One stripe of _March-dust_ for to see,
No _Provost_ would give more than he.

Their colledges were new be-painted,
Their founders eke were new be-sainted;
Nothing escaped, nor post, nor door,
Nor gete, nor rail, nor b----d, nor wh----:
You could not know (oh, strange mishap!)
Whether you saw the _town_ or _map_.

But the pure house of _Emanuel_,
Would not be like proud _Jesebel_,
Nor show herself before the king
An hypocrite, or _painted_ thing:
But that the ways might all prove fair,
Conceiv'd a tedious mile of prayer.

Upon the look'd-for seventh of _March_,
Out went the townsmen all in starch,
Both band and bead into the field,
Where one a speech could hardly wield;
For needs he would begin his stile,
The king being from him half a mile.

They gave the king a piece of plate,
Which they hop'd never came too late;
And cry'd, Oh! look not in, great king,
For there is in it just nothing:
And so preferred with time and gate,
A speech as empty as their plate.

Now, as the king came near the town,
Each one ran crying up and down,
Alas, poor _Oxford_, thou'rt undone,
For now the king's past _Trompington_,
And rides upon his brave grey Dapple,
Seeing the top of _King's-Colledge_ chappel.

Next rode his lordship on a nag,
Whose coat was blue, whose ruff was shag,
And then began his reverence
To speak most eloquent non-sense:
See how (quoth he) most mighty prince,
For very joy my horse doth wince.

What cryes the town? what we? (said he)
What cryes the University?
What cryes the boyes? what every thing?
Behold, behold, yon comes the king:
And every period he bedecks,
With _En et Ecce venit Rex_.

Oft have I warn'd (quoth he) our dirt,
That no silk stockings should be hurt;
But we in vain strive to be fine,
Unless your Grace's sun doth shine;
And with the beams of your bright eye,
You will be pleased our streets to dry.

Now come we to the wonderment,
Of _Christendom_, and eke of _Kent_,
The _Trinity_; which to surpass,
Doth Deck her spokesman by a glass:
Who, clad in gay and silken weeds,
Thus opes his mouth, hark how he speeds.

I wonder what your Grace doth here,
Who had expected been 12 year,
And this your son, fair _Carolus_,
That is so Jacobissimus;
There's none, of all your Grace refuses,
You are most welcome to our Muses.

Although we have no bells to jingle,
Yet can we shew a fair quadrangle,
Which, though it ne'er was graced with king,
Yet sure it is a goodly thing:
My warning's short, no more I'll say,
Soon you shall see a gallant play.

But nothing was so much admired
As were their plays, so well attired;
Nothing did win more praise of mine,
Than did their Actors most divine:
So did they drink their healths divinely,
So did they skip and dance so finely.

Their plays had sundry grave wise factors,
A perfect diocess of Actors
Upon the stage; for I am sure that
There was both bishop, pastor, curat:
Nor was this labour light or small,
The charge of some was pastoral.

Our plays were certainly much worse,
For they had a brown hobby-horse,
Which did present unto his Grace
A wondrous witty ambling pace:
But we were chiefly spoyl'd by that
Which was six hours of _God knows what_.

His Lordship then was in a rage,
His Lordship lay upon the stage,
His Lordship cry'd, All would be marr'd:
His Lordship lov'd a-life the guard,
And did invite those mighty men,
To what think you? Even to a _Hen_.

He knew he was to use their might
To help to keep the door at night,
And well bestow'd he though his Hen,
That they might Tolebooth _Oxford_ men.
He thought it did become a lord
To threaten with that bug-bear word.

Now pass we to the Civil Law,
And eke the doctors of the spaw,
Who all perform'd their parts so well,
Sir _Edward Ratcliff_ bore the bell,
Who was, by the king's own appointment,
To speak of Spells and Magic Ointment.

The Doctors of the Civil Law,
Urged ne'er a reason worth a straw;
And though they went in silk and satten,
They, _Thomson_-like clip'd the king's Latine;
But yet his Grace did pardon then
All treasons against _Priscian_.

Here no man spoke aught to the point,
But all they said was out of joint;
Just like the Chappel ominous,
In th' Colledge called _God with us_,
Which truly doth stand much awry,
Just north and south, _yes verily_.

Philosophers did well their parts,
Which proved them Masters of the Arts;
Their Moderator was no fool,
He far from _Cambridge_ kept a school:
The country did such store afford,
The Proctors might not speak a word.

But to conclude, the king was pleased,
And of the court the town was eased:
But Oxford though (dear sister hark it)
The king is gone but to New-Market,
And comes again ere it be long,
Then you may sing another song.

The king being gone from _Trinitie_,
They make a scramble for degree;
Masters of all sorts and all ages,
Keepers, subsizers, lackayes, pages,
Who all did throng to come abroad,
With _pray make me_ now, _good my Lord_.

They prest his lordship wondrous hard,
His lordship then did want the guard,
So did they throng him for the nonce,
Till he bless them all at once,
And cry'd _Hodiissime_:
_Omnes Magistri estote_.

Nor is this all which we do sing,
For of your praise the world must ring:
Reader, unto your tackling look,
For there is coming forth a book,
Will spoyl _Joseph Bernesius_
The sale of _Rex Platonicus_.

His Majesty was, as usual, entertained with speeches, disputations, and dramatic exhibitions. Fuller relates, that the following

EXTRAORDINARY DIVINITY ACT,

Or Disputation, was kept at Cambridge before this prince, during this visit, where Dr. John Davenant (afterwards Bishop of Sarum) was respondent, and Dr. Richardson, amongst others, opponent. The question was maintained, in the _negative_, concerning the excommunicating of kings. Dr. Richardson vigorously pressed the practice of St. Ambrose, who excommunicated the emperor Theodosius,--insomuch, says Fuller, that the king, in a great passion, returned,--"_Profecto fuit hoc ab Ambrosio insolentissime factum_." To which Dr. R. rejoined,--"_Responsum vere Regium, et Alexandro dignum, hoc non est argumentu dissolvere, sed desecare_,"--and so, sitting down, discontinued from any further argument. It was for the entertainment of James during this visit, that

THE FAMOUS CAMBRIDGE LATIN COMEDY,

Entitled IGNORAMUS, was first enacted. It originated in a dispute on the question of precedency, in 1611, when the Mayor, whose name was Thomas Smart, had seated himself in a _superior_ place in the Guildhall of the town, in the presence of the Vice-Chancellor of the University, who asserted his right to the same; but the Mayor refused to resign the seat, till the Vice-Chancellor's attendants forcibly ejected him. The dispute was laid before the Privy Council, who decided in favour of the Vice-Chancellor. But during the progress of the affair, the Recorder of Cambridge, named Brankyn, stoutly defended the Mayor and Corporation against the rights of the University. This it was that induced the author of the play, Geo. Ruggle, Fellow of Clare-Hall, to _show him up_, in the pedantic, crafty, pragmatical character of _Ignoramus_; and if lawyer Brankyn, it is said, had not actually set the dispute agoing, he greatly contributed to keep it alive. At this time King James had long been expected to visit Cambridge, who had a strong prejudice against lawyers, and a ruling passion to be thought the patron of literature. The circumstances suggested to Ruggle the propriety of exposing lawyer Brankyn before his Majesty, in the above character, and to render it the more forcible, he resolved to adopt the common-law forms, and the cant and barbarous phraseology of lawyers in the ordinary discourse. It was, therefore, necessary that he should make himself master of that _dialect_, in which almost the best amongst them were accustomed to write and even to discourse; a jargon, says Wilson, in his _Memorabilia Cantabrigiæ_, could not but be offensive to a classical car. He, therefore, took more than ordinary pains to acquaint himself with the technical terms of the profession, and to mark the abuse of them, of which he has admirably availed himself in the formation of the character of _Ignoramus_, who not only transacts business, but "woos in language of the Pleas and Bench." The comedy was enacted before his Majesty by the members of the University, and he was so much delighted with, _on dit_, either the wit or absurdity, that he caused it to be played a second time, and once at Newmarket. During one of these representations, says Dr. Peckard, formerly Master of Magdalen College, in his Life of Mr. Farrer, "the King called out aloud, 'Treason! Treason!' The gentlemen about him being anxious to know what disturbed his Majesty, he said, 'That the writer and performers had acted their parts so well, that he should die of laughter.'" It was during the performance of this play, according to Rapin and others, that James was first struck with the personal beauty of _George Villiers_, who afterwards became Duke of Buckingham, and supplanted _Somerset_ in his favour. Thomas Gibbons, Esq. says, in his Collection, forming part of the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum, (No. 980, art. 173.) that "the comedy of Ignoramus, supposed to be by Mr. Ruggle, is but a translation of the Italian comedy of Baptista Porta, entitled _Trapulario_, as may be seen by the comedy itself, in Clare-hall Library, with Mr. Ruggle's notes and alterations thereof." A literary relique that is said to have now disappeared; but it is to be hoped, for the credit of a learned Society, that it is a _mistake_. Dyer in his _Privileges of Cambridge_ (citing vol. ii. fol. 149 of Hare's MSS.) gives _the judgment of the Earl Marshal of England_, which settled this famous controversy. The original document is extant in the Crown Office, in these words:--"I do set down, &c. that the Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge is to be taken in commission before the Mayor. King James, also, in the third of his raigne, by letters under the privy signett, commandeth the Lord Ellesmere, Chancellor of England,

TO PLACE THE VICE-CHANCELLOR BEFORE THE MAYOR,

in all commissions of the peace or otherwise, where public shew of degrees is to be made."

AN OXONIAN AND A BISHOP,

Who had half a score of the softer sex to lisp "Papa," not one of whom his lady was conjuror enough "to get off," was one day accosted in Piccadilly by an old Oxford _chum_, with, "I hope I see your Lordship well." "Pretty well, for a man who is daily smothered in _petticoats_, and has ten daughters and a wife to carve for," was the reply.

* * * * *

BRIEF NOTICE OF THE BOAR'S HEAD CAROL, AS SUNG IN QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD, ON CHRISTMAS DAY.

"The earliest collection of Christmas carols supposed to have been published," says Hone, in his Every-Day Book, "is only known from the last leaf of a volume, printed by Wynkyn Worde, in the year 1521. This precious scrap was picked up by Tom Hearne; Dr. Rawlinson purchased it at his decease in a volume of tracts, and bequeathed it to the Bodleian Library. There are two carols upon it: one, 'a caroll of huntynge,' is reprinted in the last edition of Juliana Berner's 'Boke of St. Alban's;' the other, 'a caroll bringing in the boar's head,' is in Mr. Dibdin's edition of "Ames," with a copy of it as it is now sung in Queen's College, Oxford, every Christmas Day. Dr. Bliss of Oxford also printed on a sheet, for private distribution, a few copies of this, and Anthony Wood's version of it, with notices concerning the custom, from the handwriting of Wood and Dr. Rawlinson, in the Bodleian Library. Ritson, in his ill-tempered 'Observations on Warton's History of English Poetry,' (1782, 4to., p. 37,) has a Christmas carol upon bringing up the boar's head, from an ancient MS. in his possession, wholly different from Dr. Bliss's. The 'Bibliographical Miscellanies' (Oxford, 1814, 4to.) contains seven carols from a collection in one volume, in the possession of Dr. Cotton, of Christ-Church College, Oxford, 'imprynted at London, in the Poultry, by Richard Kele, dwelling at the longe shop vnder Saynt Myldrede's Chyrche,'" probably between 1546 and 1552. "I had an opportunity of perusing this exceedingly curious volume (Mr. Hone,) which is supposed to be unique, and has since passed into the hands of Mr. Freeling." "According to Aubrey's MS., in the Coll. Ashmol. Mus., Oxford," says a writer in the Morning Herald of the 25th of Dec., 1833, "before the last Civil Wars, in gentlemen's houses, at Christmas, the first dish that was brought to the table was _a boar's head, with a lemon in his mouth_. At Qeeun's College, Oxford," adds this writer, "they still retain this custom; the bearer of it brings it into the hall, singing, to an old tune, an old Latin rhyme, "_Caput apri defero_," &c. "The carol, according to Hearne, Ames, Warton, and Ritson," says Dr. Dibdin, in his edition of the second, is as follows:--

A CAROL BRINGING IN THE BORES HEED.

Caput apri differo
Reddens laudes domino.
The bore's heed in hande bring I,
With garlands gay and rosemary,
I praye you all synge merely,
Qui estis in convivio.

The bores heed I understande
Is the thefte servyce in this lande,
Take where ever it be fande,
Servite cum cantico.

Be gladde lordes bothe more and lasse,
For this hath ordeyned our stewarde,
To chere you all this Christmasse,
The bores heed with mustarde.

"This carol (says Warton,) with many alterations, is yet retained at Queen's College, Oxford," though "other ancient carols occur with Latin burthens or Latin intermixtures." But, "Being anxious to obtain a correct copy of this ballad," says Dr. Dibdin, in his AMES, "as I had myself heard it sung in the Hall of Queen's College, I wrote to the Rev. Mr. Dickinson, Tutor of the College, to favour me with an account of it: his answer, which may gratify the curious, is here subjoined.

"'_Queen's College, June 7th_, 1811.

"'DEAR SIR,--I have much pleasure in transmitting you a copy of the old _Boar's Head Song_, as it has been sung in our College-hall, every Christmas Day, within my remembrance. There are some barbarisms in it, which seem to betoken its antiquity. It is sung to the common chaunt of the prose version of the Psalms in cathedrals; at least, whenever I have attended the service at Magdalen or New College Chapels, I have heard the Boar's Head strain continually occurring in the Psalms.

"'The boar's head in hand bring I,
Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary;
And I pray you, my masters, be merry,
Quot estis in convivio.
_Caput apri defero_
_Reddens laudes Domino_.

"'The boar's head, as I understand,
Is the rarest dish in all this land,
Which thus bedeck'd with a gay garland,
Let us servire Cantico.
_Caput apri defero_
_Reddens laudes Domino_.

"'Our steward hath provided this
In honour of the King of Bliss;
Which on this day to be served is,
In Regimensi Atrio.
_Caput apri defero_
_Reddens laudes Domino_.'"

"The following," adds the Doctor, "is Hearne's minute account of it: (_Hist. Guil. Neubrig. vol. iii. p. 743:_) 'I will beg leave here,' says the pugnacious Oxford antiquary, 'to give an exact copy of the CHRISTMAS CAROL _upon the Boar's Head_, (which is an ancient dish, and was brought up by King Henry I. with trumpets, before his son, when his said son was crowned) as I have it in an old fragment, (for I usually preserve even fragments of old books) of the Christmas Carols printed by Wynkyn de Worde, (who as well as Richard Pynson, was servant to William Caxton, who was the first that printed English books, though not the first printer in England, as is commonly said,) printing being exercised at Oxford in 1468, if not sooner, which was several years before he printed anything at Westminster, by which it will be perceived how much the said carol is altered, as it is sung in some places even now, from what it was at first. It is the last thing, it seems, of the book (which I never yet saw entire,) and at the same time I think it proper also to add to the printer's conclusion, for this reason, at least, that such as write about our first printers, may have some notice of the date of this book, and the exact place where printed, provided they cannot be able to meet with it, as I believe they will find it pretty difficult to do, it being much laid aside, about the time that some of David's Psalms came to be used in its stead.'"

THIS CUSTOM

Is briefly noticed in Pointer's "_Oxoniensis Academia_," as "that of having a boar's head, or the figure of one in wood, brought up in the hall every year on Christmas Day, ushered in very solemnly with an old song, in memory of a noble exploit (as tradition goes,) by a scholar (a Tabardar) of this college, in killing a wild boar in Shotover Wood." That is, having wandered into the said wood, which was not far from Oxford, with a copy of Aristotle in his hand (for the Oxonians were of old logicians of the orthodox school in which an Alexander the Great was bred,) and if the latter, as a pupil who sat at the foot of Aristotle, conquered _a world_, no wonder our Tabardar, as a disciple being attacked by a wild boar, who came at him with extended jaws, intending to make but _a mouthful of him_, was enabled to conquer so rude a beast, which he _did_ by thrusting the Aristotle down the boar's throat, crying, in the concluding words of the 5th stanza of the following song--'GRÆCUM EST.' The animal of course fell prostrate at his feet, was carried in triumph to the college, and no doubt served up with _an 'old song,'_ as Mr. Pointer says, in memory of this "_noble exploit_." The witty _Dr. Buckler_, however, is not satisfied with this brief notice of Mr. Pointer's: but says, in his _never-to-be-forgotten_ exposé, or "Complete Vindication," of _The All-Souls' Mallard_ (of which anon,) "I am apt to fear, that it is a fixed principle in Mr. _Pointer_ to ridicule every _ceremony_ and _solemn institution_ that comes in his way, however venerable it may be for its antiquity and significance;" and after quoting Mr. Pointer's words, he adds, with his _unrivalled irony_, "now, notwithstanding this _bold hint_ to the contrary, it seemeth to me to be altogether unaccountable and incredible, that a polite and learned society should be so far depraved, in its taste, and so much in love with a _block-head_, as to eat it. But as I have never had the honour of dining at a _boar's head_, and there are many gentlemen more nearly concerned and better informed, as well as better qualified, in every respect, to refute this _calumny_ than I am, I shall avoid entering into a thorough discussion of this subject. I know it is given out by Mr. Pointer's enemies, that he hath been employed by some of the _young seceders_ from that college, to throw out a Story of the _Wooden-head_, in order to countenance the complaints of those gentlemen about _short commons_, and the great deficiency of _mutton_, _beef_, &c.; and, indeed, I must say, that nothing could have better answered their purpose, in this respect, than in proving, according to the _insinuation_, that the chief dish at one of their highest festivals, was nothing but a log of Wood _bedeck'd with bays and rosemary_; but surely this cannot be credited, after the _university_ has been informed by the _best authority_, and in the most _public_ Manner, that a _young Nobleman_, who lately completed his academical education at that house, was, during his whole residence, not only very _well satisfied_ but _extremely delighted_ with the college commons."

In the Oxford Sausage is the following

RYGHTE EXCELLENTE SONG IN HONOUR OF THE CELEBRATION OF THE BOAR'S HEAD, AT QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD.

_Tam Marti quam Mercurio._

I sing not of Rome or Grecian mad games.
The Pythian, Olympic, and such like hard names;
Your patience awhile, with submission, I beg,
I strive but to honour the feast of Coll. Reg.
Derry down, down, down, derry down.

No Thracian brawls at our rites e'er prevail,
We temper our mirth with plain sober mild ALE;
The tricks of Old Circe deter us from Wine:
Though we honour a boar, we won't make ourselves Swine.
Derry down, &c.

Great Milo was famous for slaying his Ox,
Yet he proved but an ass _in cleaving of blocks_:
But we had a hero for all things was fit,
Our Motto displays both his Valour and Wit.
Derry down, &c.

Stout Hercules labour'd, and look'd mighty big,
When he slew the half-starved Erymanthian Pig;
But we can relate such a stratagem taken,
That the stoutest of Boars could not _save his own Bacon_.
Derry down, &c.

So dreadful his bristle-back'd foe did appear,
You'd have sworn he had got the wrong _Pig by the ear_,
But instead of avoiding the mouth of the beast,
He ramm'd in a volume, and cried--_Græcum est_.
Derry down, &c.

In this gallant action such fortitude shown is,
As proves him no coward, nor tender Adonis;
No Armour but Logic; by which we may find,
That Logic's the bulwark of body and mind.
Derry down, &c.

Ye Squires that fear neither hills nor rough rocks,
And think you're full wise when you out-wit a Fox;
Enrich your poor brains, and expose them no more,
Learn Greek, and seek glory from hunting the Boar.
Derry down, &c.

* * * * *

CLEAVING THE BLOCK,

Is another custom that either _was_, or _is_, annually celebrated at Queen's College, Oxford, not _pro bono publico_, it seems, but pro bono _cook-o!_ and has a reference, probably, to the exploit in which Milo "proved but an ass," as observed in the second line of the third verse of the foregoing song. _On dit_, every Christmas, New Year's, or some other day, at that season of the year, _a block of wood_ is placed at the hall-door, where the _cook_ stands with his _cleaver_, which he delivers to each member of the College, as he passes out of the Hall, who endeavours, at _one_ stroke, to sever the block of wood; failing to do which, he throws down half-a-crown, in which sum he is _mulct_. This is done by every one in succession, should they, as is invariably the case, prove themselves asses in "cleaving of blocks." But should any one out-Milo Milo, he would be entitled to all the half-crowns previously forfeited: otherwise the whole _goes to the cook_.

* * * * *

THE MISFORTUNE OF BEING LITTLE.

Lord Byron has said, that a man is unfortunate whose name will admit of being _punned upon_. The lament might apply to all peculiarities of person and habit. Dr. Joseph Jowett, the late regius professor of civil law at Cambridge, though a learned man, an able lecturer, one that generously fostered talent in rising young men, and a _dilettante_ musician of a refined and accurate taste, was remarkable for some singularities, as smallness of stature, and for gardening upon a small scale. This gave the late Bishop Mansel or Porson (for it has been attributed to both, and both were capable of perpetrating it) an occasion to throw off

THE FOLLOWING LATIN EPIGRAM:

Exiguum hunc hortum Jowettulus iste
Exiguus, vallo et muriit exiguo:
Exiguo hoc horto forsan Jowettulus iste
Exiguus mentem prodidit exiguum.

IN ENGLISH, AS MUCH AS TO SAY:

A _little_ garden _little_ Jowett had,
And fenced it with a _little_ palisade:
Because this garden made a _little_ talk,
He changed it to a _little_ gravel walk:
And if you'ld know the taste of _little_ Jowett,
This _little_ garden doth a _little_ show it.

* * * * *

BISHOPS BLOMFIELD AND MONK,

Who had the honour to edit his _Adversaria_, can both, it is said, bear witness to the fact, that Porson was unlike many pedants who make a display of their brilliant parts to surprise rather than enlighten; he was liberal in the extreme, and truly amiable in communicating his knowledge to young men of talent and industry, and would tell them all they wanted to know in a plain and direct manner, without any attempt to display his superiority. All, however, agree that the time for profiting by Porson's learning was _inter bibendum_, for then, as Chaucer says of the Sompnour--

"When he well dronkin had with wine,
Then would he speak ne word but Latine."

More than one distinguished judge of his merits

PRONOUNCED HIM THE GREATEST SCHOLAR IN EUROPE,

And he never appeared so sore, says one who knew him well, as when a _Wakefield_ or a _Hermann_ offered to set him right, or hold their tapers to light him on his way. Their doing so gave him occasion to compare them to _four-footed animals, guided only by instinct_; and in future, he said, he "would take care they should not reach what he wrote with their paws, though they stood on their hind legs." I may here very appropriately repeat the fact, that

PORSON WAS A GREAT MASTER OF IAMBIC MEASURE,

As he has shown in his preface to the second edition of his Hecuba. The German critic, Hermann, however, whom he makes to say, in his notes on the Medea, "We Germans understand quantity better than the English," accuses him of being more dictatorial than explanatory in his metrical decisions. Upon this the professor fired the following epigram at the German:--

[Greek: Nêi des esnte metrôn ô Teutones, ouch ho men, hos d' ou,
Pantes plên 'Ermannos, ho d' 'Ermannos sphodra Teutôn.]

The Germans in Greek,
Are sadly to seek;
Not five in five score,
But ninety-five more;
All, save only Hermann,
And Hermann's a German.

PORSON AND WAKEFIELD

Had but little regard for each other, and when the latter published his _Hecuba_, Porson said--

"What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should publish her?"

At another time, being teased for his opinion of a modern Latin poem, his reply was,--"There is a great deal in it from _Horace_, and a great deal from _Virgil_: but nothing _Horatian_ and nothing _Virgilian_."

Dr. Parr once asked the professor, "what he thought of the origin of evil?" "_I see no good in it_," was his answer.

The same pugnacious divine told him one day, that "with all his learning, he did not think him well versed in metaphysics." "Sir," said Porson, "I suppose you mean _your_ metaphysics."

It is not generally known that during the time he was employed in deciphering the famed Rosetta stone, in the collection of the British Museum, which is _black_,

HE OBTAINED THE SOUBRIQUET OF JUDGE BLACKSTONE.

And it is here worthy of remark, that it was to another celebrated Cantab, Porson's contemporary, Dr. Edward Daniel Clarke, the traveller, that we are indebted for that relique of antiquity. He happened to be in Egypt at the time the negociation for the evacuation of that country by the remnant of Bonaparte's army was progressing between Lord Hutchinson and the French General, Menou. Knowing the French were in possession of the famed Rosetta stone, amongst other reliques, Clarke's sagacity induced him to point out to Lord Hutchinson the importance of possessing it. The consequence was, he was named as one of the parties to negociate with Menou for the surrender of that and their other Egyptian monuments and valuable reliques which the _sçavans_ attached to the French army had sedulously collected; and notwithstanding every impediment and even insult were heaped upon, and thrown in Clarke's way, his perseverance was proof against it all. Indeed,

DR. EDWARD DANIEL CLARKE,

Whose name and writings are now justly celebrated throughout the civilized world, was from his very childhood (says his biographer, contemporary, and friend, the learned Principal of King's College, London,) an enthusiast in whatever he undertook, and always possessed, in a very high degree, the power of interesting the minds of others towards any objects that occupied his own. This was remarkably illustrated by his manufacture of

A BALLOON, WITH WHICH HE AMUSED THE UNIVERSITY,

In the third year of his residence, when not more than eighteen, probably the only instance of a member of either university constructing one. It "was magnificent in size, and splendid in its decorations, and was constructed and manoeuvred, from first to last, entirely by himself. It was the contrivance of many anxious thoughts, and the labour of many weeks, to bring it to what he wished; and when, at last, it was completed to his satisfaction, and had been suspended for some days in the college hall, of which it occupied the whole height, he announced a time for its ascension. There was nothing at that period very new in balloons, or very curious in the species he had adopted; but by some means he had contrived to disseminate, not only within his own college, but throughout the whole university, a prodigious curiosity respecting the fate of this experiment; and a vast concourse of persons assembled, both within and without the college walls; and the balloon having been brought to its station, the grass-plot within the cloisters of Jesus' College, was happily launched by himself, amidst the applause of all ranks and degrees of gownsmen, the whole scene succeeding to his wish; nor is it very easy to forget the delight which flashed from _his_ eye, and the triumphant wave of _his_ cap, when the machine, with its little freight (a kitten,) having cleared the college battlements, was seen floating in full security over the towers of the great gate, followed in its course by several persons on horseback, who had undertaken to recover it; and all went home delighted with an exhibition upon which nobody would have ventured, in such a place, but himself. But to gratify and amuse others was ever the source of the greatest satisfaction to him." This was one of those early displays of that spirit of enterprise which was so gloriously developed in his subsequent wanderings through the dreary regions of the north, over the classic shores of mouldering Greece, of Egypt, and of Palestine, the scenes of which, and their effects upon his vivid imagination and sanguine spirit, he has so admirably depicted in his writings. This eminent traveller used to say, that the old proverb,

"WITH TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE SOME MUST BURN,"

"Was a lie." Use poker, tongs, shovel, and all,--only keep them all stirring, was his creed. Few had the capacity of keeping them so effectually stirring as he had. Nature seemed to have moulded him, head and heart, to be in a degree a contradiction to the wise saws of experience.

* * * * *

THREE BLUE BEANS IN A BLADDER.

Dr. Bentley said of our celebrated Cambridge Professor, Joshua Barnes, that "he knew about as much Greek as an Athenian blacksmith," but he was certainly no ordinary scholar, and few have excelled him in his tact at throwing of "trifles light as air" in that language, of which his following version of _three blue beans in a bladder_ is a sample:

[Greek: Treis kyamoi eni kystidi kyaneêphi.]

Equal to this is the following spondaic on

THE THREE UNIVERSITY BEDELS,

By Kit Smart, who well deserved, though Dr. Johnson denied him, a place in his British Poets. He possessed great wit and sprightliness of conversation, which would readily flow off in extemporaneous verse, says Dyer, and the three university bedels all happening to be fat men, he thus immortalized them:

"Pinguia tergeminorum abdomina Bedellorum."

(Three bedels sound, with paunches fat and round.)

* * * * *

NO SCHOLAR IN EUROPE UNDERSTOOD THEM BETTER.

It is recorded of another Cambridge Clarke, the Rev. John, who was successively head-master of the grammar schools of Skipton, Beverley, and Wakefield in Yorkshire, and obtained the honourable epithet of "_The good school-master_"--that when he presented himself to our great critic, Dr. Richard Bentley, at Trinity College, Cambridge, for admission, the Doctor proceeded to examine him, as is usual, and placed before him a page of the Greek text, with the Scholia, for the purpose. "He explained the whole," says his memorialist, Dr. Zouch, "with the utmost perspicuity, elegance, and ease. Dr. Bentley immediately presented him with a valuable edition of the Comedies of Aristophanes, telling him, in language peculiar to himself, that no scholar in Europe understood them better, _one person only excepted_." Dyer has the following

BENTLEIAN ANECDOTE

In his Supplement, but supposes it cannot be charged upon the Doctor, "the greatest Greek scholar of his age." He is said to have set a scholar a copy of Greek verses, by way of _imposition_, for some offence against college discipline. Having completed his verses, he brought them to the Doctor, who had not proceeded far in examining them before he was struck with a passage, which he pronounced _bad_ Greek. "Yet, sir," said the scholar, with submission, "I thought I had followed good authority," and taking a Pindar out of his pocket, he pointed to a similar expression. The Doctor was satisfied, but, continuing to read on, he soon found another passage, which he said was certainly bad Greek. The young man took his Pindar out of his pocket again, and showed another passage, which he had followed as his authority. The Doctor was a little nettled, but he proceeded to the end of the verses, when he observed another passage at the close, which he affirmed was not classical. "Yet Pindar," rejoined the young man, "was my authority even here," and he pointed out the place which he had closely imitated. "Get along, sir," exclaimed the Doctor, rising from his chair in a passion, "Pindar was very bold, and you are very impudent."

* * * * *

THE GREAT GAUDY OF THE ALL-SOULS' MALLARD.

This feast is annually celebrated the 14th of January, by the Society of All-Souls, _in piam memoriam_ of their founder, the famous Henry Chichele, Archbishop of Canterbury. It is a custom at All-Souls' College (says Pointer, in his OXONIENSIS ACADEMIA,) kept up on "their mallard-night every year, in remembrance of a huge mallard or drake, found (as tradition goes) imprisoned in a gutter or drain under ground, and grown to a vast bigness, at the digging for the foundation of the college." This mallard had grown to a huge size, and was, it appears, of a great age; and to account for the longevity, he cites the Ornithology of Willughby, who observes, "that he was assured by a friend of his, a person of very good credit, that his father kept a goose known to be sixty years of age, and as yet sound and lusty, and like enough to have lived many years longer, had he not been forced to kill her, for her mischievousness, worrying and destroying the young geese and goslings." "And my Lord Bacon," he adds, "in his Natural History, says, the goose may pass among the long-livers, though his food be commonly grass and such kind of nourishment, especially the wild goose; wherefore this proverb grew among the Germans, _Magis senex quam Anser nivalis--Older than a wild-goose_." He might also have instanced the English proverb, "As tough as a Michaelmas goose." "If a goose be such a long-lived bird," observes Mr. P., "why not a duck or a drake, since I reckon they may be both ranked in the same class, though of a different species, as to their size, as a rat and a mouse? And if so, this may help to give credit to our All-Souls' mallard. However, this is certain, this mallard is the accidental occasion of a great gaudy once a-year, and great mirth, though the commemoration of their founder is the chief occasion; for on this occasion is always sung," as extant in the Oxford Sausage, the following "merry old song:"--

THE ALL-SOULS' MALLARD.

Griffin, bustard, turkey, capon,
Let our hungry mortals gape on,
And on their bones their stomach fall hard,
But All-Souls' men have their MALLARD.
Oh! by the blood of King Edward,
Oh! by the blood of King Edward,
It was a swapping, swapping, MALLARD.

The _Romans_ once admired a _gander_
More than they did their chief commander,
Because he saved, if some don't fool us,
The place that's called from the _Head of Tolus_.
Oh! by the blood, &c.

The poets feign _Jove_ turned a swan,
But let them prove it if they can;
As for our proof, 'tis not at all hard,
For it was a swapping, swapping MALLARD.
Oh! for the blood, &c.

Swapping he was from bill to eye,
Swapping he was from wing to thigh;
Swapping--his age and corporation
Out-swapped all the winged creation.
Oh! for the blood, &c.

Therefore let us sing and dance a galliard,
To the remembrance of the MALLARD;
And as the MALLARD dives in a pool,
Let us dabble, dive, and duck in a bowl.
Oh! by the blood of King Edward,
Oh! by the blood of King Edward,
It was a swapping, swapping MALLARD.

But whoever would possess themselves of the true history of the _swapping mallard_ of All-Souls, must read the "_Complete Vindication of the Mallard of All-Souls_," published in 1751, by Dr. Buckler, sub-warden, "a most incontrovertible proof of his wit," who for that and other, his effusions, was usually styled, by way of eminence, says Chalmers, in his History of Oxford, "The BUCKLER of the Mallardians." His _Vindication_, it is justly observed, is "one of the finest pieces of _irony_ in our language." Of course, he is highly indignant at the "injurious suggestions of Mr. Pointer (contained in the foregoing quotations,) who insinuates, that the huge _mallard_ was no better than a _goose-a-gander_, "_magis senex_," &c.; and after citing the very words of Mr. P., he breaks out, "Thus the _mallard of All-Souls_, whose REMEMBRANCE has, for these three centuries, been held in the highest veneration, is, by this _forged hypothesis_, degraded into a GOOSE, or, at least, ranked in the _same class_ with that ridiculous animal, and the whole story on which the rites and ceremonies of the _mallard_ depends, is represented as _merely traditional_; more than a hint is given of the _mischievousness_ of the bird, whatever he be; and all is founded on a _pretended longevity_, in support of which fiction the great names of Lord _Bacon_ and Mr. _Willughby_ are called in, to make the vilifying insinuation pass the more plausibly upon the world." "We live in an age (he adds,) when the _most serious_ subjects are treated with an air of ridicule; I shall therefore set this _important affair_ in its true light, and produce authorities "sufficient to convince the most obstinate incredulity; and first, I shall beg leave to transcribe a passage from _Thomas Walsingham_, (see _Nicholson's_ Historical Library,) a _monk_ of _St. Alban's_, and Regius Professor of History in that monastery, about the year 1440. This writer is well known among the historians for his _Historia Brevis_, written in Latin, and published both by _Camden_ and Archbishop _Parker_. But the tract I am quoting is in English, and entitled, OF WONDERFUL AND SURPRISING EVENTYS, and, as far as I can find, has never yet been printed. The eighth chapter of his fifth book begins thus:--

"'Ryghte well worthie of Note is thilke famous Tale of the _All-Soulen_ Mallarde, the whiche, because it bin acted in our Daies, and of a suretye vouched into me, I will in fewe Wordys relate.

"'Whereas _Henrye Chicele_, the late renowned Arch-Bishope of _Cantorburye_, had minded to founden a Collidge in _Oxenforde_ for the hele of his Soule and the Soules of all those who peryshed in the Warres in _Fraunce_, fighteing valiantlye under our most gracious _Henrye_ the fifthe, moche was he distraughten concerning the Place he myghte choose for thilke Purpose. Him thynketh some whylest how he myghte place it withouten the eastern Parte of the Citie, both for the Pleasauntnesse of the Meadowes and the clere Streamys therebye runninge. Agen him thynketh odir whylest howe he mote builden it on the Northe Side for the heleful Ayre there coming from the fieldis. Now while he doubteth thereon he dreamt, and behold there appearyth unto him one of righte godelye Personage, saying and adviseing him as howe he myghte placen his Collidge in the Highe Strete of the Citie, nere unto the Chirche of our blessed Ladie the Virgine, and in Witnesse that it was sowthe and no vain and deceitful Phantasie, wolled him to laye the first Stone of the foundation at the corner which turnyth towards the _Cattys-strete_, where in delvinge he myghte of a Suretye finde a schwoppinge Mallarde imprison'd in the Sinke or Sewere, wele yfattened and almost ybosten. Sure Token of the Thrivaunce of his future Collidge.

"'Moche doubteth he when he awoke on the nature of this Vision, whether he mote give hede thereto or not. Then advisyth he thereon with monie Docters and learned Clerkys, all sayd howe he oughte to maken Trial upon it. Then comyth he to _Oxenforde_, and on a Daye fix'd, after Masse seyde, proceedeth he in solemn wyse, with Spades and Pickaxes for the nonce provided, to the Place afore spoken of. But long they had not digged ere they herde, as it myghte seme, within the wam of the Erthe, horrid Strugglinges and Flutteringes, and anon violent Quaakinges of the distressyd Mallarde. Then _Chicele_ lyfteth up his hondes and seyth _Benedicite_, &c. &c. Nowe when they broughte him forthe behold the Size of his Bodie was as that of a Bustarde or an Ostriche, and moche wonder was thereat, for the lyke had not been been scene in this Londe, ne in anie odir.'

"Here," says the Doctor, "we have the matter of fact proved from an _authentic record_, wherein there is not one word said of the _longevity_ of the _mallard_, upon a supposition of which Mr. _Pointer_ has founded his whole _libel_. The _mallard_, 'tis true, has grown to a great size. But what then? Will not the richness and plenty of the diet he wallowed in very well account for this, without supposing any great number of years of imprisonment? The words of the historian, I am sure, rather discourage any such supposition. _Sure token_, says he, _of the thrivance of his future college!_ which seems to me to intimate the great _progress_ the _mallard_ had made in fattening, in a short space of time. But be this as it will, there is not the least hint of a _goose_ in the case. No: the impartial _Walsingham_ had far higher notions of the _mallard_, and could form no comparison of him, without borrowing his idea from some of the most noble birds, the _bustard_ and the _ostridge_." Turning to our author's comment on the last passage of Mr. Pointer, he adds, "However, this is certain, this _mallard_ is the accidental occasion of a _great gaudy_ once a year, and great _mirth_; for on this occasion is always sung a _merry old song_."--"_Rem tam seriam--tam negligenter_," exclaims the Doctor; "Would any one but this author have represented so _august_ a ceremony as the _Celebration of the Mallard_ by those vulgar circumstances of eating and drinking, and singing a _merry old song_? Doth he not know that the greatest states, even those of _Rome_ and _Carthage_, had their infant foundations distinguished by incidents very much resembling those of the _mallard_, and that the commemoration of them was celebrated with hymns and processions, and made a part of their _religious observances_? Let me refresh his memory with a circumstance or two relating to the head of _Tolus_ (will serve to elucidate the fourth line of the second verse of the _merry old song_) which was discovered at the foundation of the _Capitol_. The _Romans_ held the remembrance of it in the greatest veneration, as will appear from the following quotation from _Arnobius_, in a fragment preserved by _Lipsius_:--'Quo die (says he, speaking of the annual _celebrity_) congregati sacerdotes, et eorum ministri, totum Capitolinum collem circumibant, cantilenam quandam sacram de _Toli_ cujusdam capite, dum molirentur fundamenta invento, recitantes deinde ad coenam verè pontificiam se recipientes,' &c. Part of this _merry old song_ (as Mr. P. would call it) is preserved by _Vossius_, in his book _De Sacris Cantilenis Veterum Romanorum_. The chorus of it shows so much the simplicity of the _ancient Roman poetry_ that I cannot forbear transcribing it for the benefit of my reader, as the book is too scarce to be in every one's hand. It runs thus:

TOLI _caput venerandum_!
Magnum caput et mirandum!
TOLI _caput resonamus_.

I make no doubt but that every _true critic_ will be highly pleased with it. For my own part, it gives me a particular pleasure to reflect on the resemblance there is between this _precious relique_ of antiquity, and the chorus of the _Mallard_.

_Oh, by the blood of King_ Edward,
_It was a swapping, swapping_ Mallard!

The _greatness_ of the subject, you see, is the Thing celebrated in both, and the manner of doing it is as nearly equal as the different geniuses of the two languages will permit. Let me hope, therefore, that Mr. P. when he exercises his thoughts again on this subject, will learn to think more highly of the _mallard_, than of a _common gaudy_, or _merry making_. For it will not be just to suppose that the gentlemen of _All-Souls_ can have less regard for the memory of so noble a bird, found _all alive_, than the Romans had for the _dead skull_ of the _Lord knows whom_."

* * * * *

ANOTHER OXFORD DREAM PRECEDED THE FOUNDATION OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE.

Dr. Plott relates, in his History of Oxfordshire, that the founder of St. John's College, Oxford, Sir Thomas White, alderman and merchant tailor of London, originally designed the establishment of his college at his birth-place, Reading, in Berkshire. But being warned in a dream, that he should build a college for the education of youth, in religion and learning, near a place where he should find two elms growing out of the same root, he first proceeded to Cambridge, and finding no such tree, he repaired to Oxford, where he discovered one, which answered the description in his dream, near St. Bernard's College. Elated with joy, he dismounted from his horse, and, on his knees, returned thanks for the fortunate issue of his pious search. Dr. Joseph Warton seems to throw a doubt upon Dr. Plott's narration, observing, that he was _fond of the marvellous_. The college was founded in the middle of the sixteenth century, and Doctor Plott says, that the tree was in a flourishing state in his day, 1677, when Dr. Leving was president of St. John's College. Mr. Pointer observes, in his _Oxoniensis Academia_, "The _triple_ trees that occasioned the foundation of the college, &c. did stand between the library and the garden. One of them died in 1626."

The following letter, addressed to the Society by Sir Thomas, the founder, a fortnight before his death, the 11th of February, 1566, is a relic worth printing, though it does "savour of death's heads."

"_Mr. President, with the Fellows and Schollers._