Chapter XI: Preface: , in Imitation of the First Satire of Persius (8)

BY MACLEAN.
Here rests a punster, Jemmy Wheeler{14}
In wit and whim a wholesale dealer;
Unbound by care, he others bound,
And now lies gathered underground.

12 Sheffield, better known by the name of Buck Sheffield, a
master tailor and a member of the common council.

13 MacLean, an old bacchanalian Scotchman, better known by
the name of Tackle: a tall thin man, who speaks the broad
Scotch dialect; makes and mends fishing-tackle for members
of the university; makes bows and arrows for those who
belong to the Archery Society; is an indifferent musician,
occasionally amuses under-graduates in their apartments by
playing to them country dances and marches on the flute or
violin. He published his Life a short time since, in a thin
octavo pamphlet, entitled "The Stranger Abroad, or The
History of Myself," by MacLean.

14 Jemmy Wheeler of Magpie-lane, a bookbinder, of punning
celebrity; has published two or three excellent versified
puns in the Oxford Herald. He is a young man of good natural
abilities,
but unfortunately applies them occasionally to a loose purpose.

~229~~

BY JEMMY WHEELER.
A speedy-man, by nimble foe,
Lies buried in the earth below:
The Baron Perkins,{15} Mercury
To all the university.
Men of New College, mourn his fate,
Who _early_ died by drinking _late_.

BY BARON PERKINS.
Ye Oxford _duns_, you're done at last;
Here Smiler W----d{16} is laid fast.
No more his _oak_ ye need assail;
He's book'd inside a wooden jail.

BY SMILER W---- OF C---- COLLEGE.
A thing called exquisite rests here:
For human nature's sake I hope,
Without uncharitable trope,
'Twill ne'er among us more appear.

15 William Perkins, alias Baron Perkins, alias the Baron, a
very jovial watchman of Holywell, the New College speedy-
man,{*} and factotum to New College.

16 Mr. W----d, alias Smiler W----d, a commoner of
----. This gentleman is always laughing or smiling; is
long-winded, and consequently pestered with _duns_, who are
sometimes much chagrined by repeated disappointments; but
let them be ever so crusty, he never fails in laughing them
into a good humour before they leave his room.

It was over Smiler's oak in----, that some wag had printed
and stuck up the following notice:

Men traps and spring guns
Set here to catch _duns_.

* A _speedy-man_ at New College is a person employed to take
a letter to the master of Winchester school from the warden
of New College, acquaint-ing him that a fellowship or
scholarship is become vacant in the college, and requiring
him to send forthwith the next senior boy. The speedy-man
always performs his journey on foot, and within a given
time.

~230~~

BY LILLYMAN LIONISE.
Here rests a poet--heaven keep him quiet,
For when above he lived a life of riot;
Enjoy'd his joke, and drank his share of wine--
A mad wag he, one Horace Eglantine.{17}

The good old orthodox beverage now began to display its potent effects upon the heads and understandings of the party. All restraint being completely banished by the effect of the liquor, every one indulged in their characteristic eccentricities. Dick Gradus pleaded his utter incapability to sing or produce an impromptu rhyme, but was allowed to substitute a prose epitaph on the renowned school-master of Magdalen parish, Fatty T--b,{18} who lay snoring under the table. "It shall be read over him in lieu of burial service," said Echo. "Agreed, agreed," vociferated all the party; and Jemmy

17 This whim of tagging rhymes and epitaphs, adopted by
Horace Eglantine, is of no mean authority. During the
convivial administration of Lord North, when the ministerial
dinners were composed of such men as the Lords Sandwich,
Weymouth, Thurlow, Richard Rigby, &c, various pleasantries
passed current for which the present time would be deemed
too refined. Among others, it was the whim of the day to
call upon each member, after the cloth was drawn, to tag a
rhyme to the name of his left hand neighbour. It was first
proposed by Lord Sandwich, to raise a laugh against the
facetious Lord North, who happened to sit next to a Mr.
Mellagen, a name deemed incapable of a rhyme. Luckily,
however, for Lord North, that gentleman had just informed
him of an accident that had befallen him near the pump in
Pall Mall; when, therefore, it came to his turn, he wrote
the following distich:--

Oh! pity poor Mr. Mellagen,
Who walking along Pall Mall,
Hurt his foot when down he fell,
And fears he won't get well again.

18 Fatty T----, better known as the sixpenny schoolmaster:
a little fat man, remarkable for his love of good living.

~231~~

Jumps,{19} the parish clerk of Saint Peter's, was instantly mounted on a chair, at the head of the defunct schoolmaster, to recite the following whim:--

Epitaph on a Glutton.

Beneath this table lie the remains of Fatty T***;
Who more than performed the duties of
An excellent eater, an unparalleled drinker, and
A truly admirable sleeper.
His stomach was as disinterested
As his appetite was good; so that
His impartial tooth alike chewed
The mutton of the poor,and
The turtle of the rich.

19 James James, alias Jemmy Jumps, alias the Oxford Caleb
Quotum, a stay-maker, and parish-clerk of Saint Peter le
Bailey--plays the violin to parties on water excursions,
attends public-house balls--is bellows-blower and factotum
at the music-room--attends as porter to the Philharmonic and
Oxford Choral Societies--is constable of the race-course
and race balls--a bill distributor and a deputy collector of
poor rates--calls his wife his _solio_. He often amuses his
companions at public-houses by reciting comic tales in
verse. A woman who had lost a relative desired Jemmy
Jumps to get a brick grave built. On digging up a piece
of ground which had not been opened for many years, he
discovered a very good brick grave, and, to his great joy,
also discovered that its occupant had long since mouldered
into dust. He cleaned the grave out, procured some reddle
and water, brushed the bricks over with it, and informed
the person that he had a most excellent _second-hand grave
to sell as good as new_, and if she thought it would suit
her poor departed friend, would let her have it at half the
price of a new one: this was too good an offer to be
rejected; but Jemmy found, on measuring the coffin, that his
second-hand grave was too short, and consequently was
obliged to dig the earth away from the end of the grave and
beat the bricks in with a beetle, before it would admit its
new tenant.

~232~~

He was a zealous opposer of the Aqua-_arian_ heresy,
A steady devourer of beef-steaks,
A stanch and devout advocate for _spiced bishop_,
A firm friend to Bill Holland's _double X_, and
An active disseminator of the bottle,
He was ever uneasy unless employed upon
The good things of this world; and
The interment of a _swiss_ or lion,
Or the dissolution of a pasty,
Was his great delight.
He died
Full of drink and victuals,
In the undiminished enjoyment of his digestive faculties,
In the forty-fifth year of his appetite.
The collegians inscribed this memento,
In perpetual remembrance of
His _pieous_ knife and fork.

"Very well for a _trencher_ man," said Horace; "now we must have a recitation from Strasburg.{20} Come, you jolly old teacher of Hebrew, mount the rostrum, and "give us a taste of your quality." "Ay, or by heavens we'll baptize him with a bumper of bishop," said Echo. "For conscience sake, mishter Echo, conshider vat it is you're about; I can no more shpeek in English than I can turn Christian--I've drank so much of your red port to-day as voud make anoder Red Sea." "Ay, and you shall be drowned in it, you old _Sheenie_," said Tom, "if you don't give us a speech." "A speech, a speech!" resounded from all

{20} Strasburg, an eccentric Jew, who gave lessons in Hebrew
to members of the university.

~233~~the yet living subjects of the party. "Veil, if I musht, I musht; but I musht do it by shubstitute then; my old friend, Mark Supple here, vill give you the history of Tom Tick." To this Echo assented, on account of the allusions it bore to the Albanians, some of whom were of the party. Old Mark, mounted on the chair at the upper end of the table, proceeded with the tale.

THE OXFORD RAKE'S PROGRESS.

Tom was a tailor's heir,
A dashing blade,
Whose sire in trade
Enough had made,
By cribbage, short skirts, and little capes,
Long bills, and items for buckram, tapes,
Buttons, twist, and small ware;
Which swell a bill out so delightfully,
Or perhaps I should say frightfully,

~234~~

That is, if it related to myself.
Suffice it to be told
In wealth he roll'd,
And being a fellow of some spirit,
Set up his coach;
To 'scape reproach,
He put the tailor on the shelf,
And thought to make his boy a man of merit.
On old Etona's classic ground,
Tom's infant years in circling round
Were spent 'mid Greek and Latin;
The boy had parts both gay and bright,
A merry, mad, facetious sprite,
With heart as soft as satin.
For sport or spree Tom never lack'd;
A _con_{21} with all, his sock he crack'd
With _oppidan_ or gownsman:
Could _smug_ a sign, or quiz the _dame_,
Or row, or ride, or poach for game,
With _cads_, or Eton townsmen.
Tom's _admiral_ design'd,
Most dads are blind
To youthful folly,
That Tom should be a man of learning,
To show his parent's great discerning,
A parson rich and jolly.
To Oxford Tom in due time went,
Upon degree D.D. intent,
But more intent on ruin:
_A Freshman_, steering for the _Port of Stuff's_,{22}
Round _Isle Matricula_, and _Isthmus of Grace_,
Intent on living well and little doing.
Here Tom came out a dashing blood,
Kept Doll at Woodstock, and a stud
For hunting, race, or tandem;
Could _bag_ a proctor, _floor a raff_,
Or stifle e'en a _hull-dog's gaff_,
Get _bosky_, drive at random.

21 Eton phraseology--A friend.

22 Oxford phraseology--All these terms have been explained
in an earlier part of the work.

~235~~

But long before the first term ended,
Tom was inform'd, unless he mended,
He'd better change his college.
Which said, the _Don_ was hobbling to the shelf
Where college butler keeps his book of _Battell_;
Tom nimbly ran, erased his name himself,
To save the scandal of the students' prattle.
In Oxford, be it known, there is a place
Where all the mad wags in disgrace
Retire to improve their knowledge;
The town _raff_ call it _Botany Bay_,
Its inmates _exiles, convicts_, and they say
Saint Alban takes the student refugees:
Here Tom, to 'scape _Point Non plus_, took his seat
After a _waste of ready_--found his feet
Safe on the shores of indolence and ease;
Here, 'mid choice spirits, in the _Isle of Flip_,
Dad's will, and _sapping_, valued not young _snip_;
Scapula, Homer, Lexicon, laid by,
Join'd the peep-of-day boys in full cry.{23}
A saving sire a sad son makes
This adage suits most modern rakes,

23 It was in the actual participation of these bacchanalian
orgies, during the latter days of Dr. W----y, the former
head of the Hall, when infirmities prevented his exercising
the necessary watchful-ness over the buoyant spirits
committed to his charge, that my friend Bob Transit and
myself were initiated into the mysteries of the Albanians.
The accompanying scene, so faithfully delineated by his
humorous pencil, will be fresh in the recollection of the
_choice spirits_ who mingled in the joyous revelry. To
particularise character would be to "betray the secrets of
the prison-house," and is besides wholly unnecessary, every
figure round the board being a portrait; kindred souls,
whose merrie laughter-loving countenances and jovial
propensities, will be readily recognised by every son of
_Alma Mater_ who was at Oxford during the last days of the
_beaux esprits_ of Alban Hall. (_See Plate_.) In justice to
the learned Grecian who now presides, it should be told,
that these scenes are altogether suppressed.

~236~~

And Tom above all others.
I should have told before, he was an only child,
And therefore privileged to be gay and wild,
Having no brothers,
Whom his example might mislead
Into extravagance, or deed
Ridiculous and foolish.
Three tedious years in Oxford spent,
In midnight brawl and merriment,
Tom bid adieu to college,
To cassock-robe of orthodox,
To construe and decline--the box,
Supreme in stable knowledge;
To dash on all within the ring,
Bet high, play deep, or rioting,
At Long's to sport his figure
In honour's cause, some small affair
Give modern bucks a finish'd air,
Tom pull'd the fatal trigger.
He kill'd his friend--but then remark,
His friend had kill'd another spark,
So 'twas but trick and tie.
The cause of quarrel no one knew,
Not even Tom,--away he flew,
Till time and forms of law,
To fashionable vices blind,
Excuses for the guilty find,
Call murder a _faux pas_.
The tinsell'd coat next struck his pride,
How dashing in the Park to ride
A cornet of dragoons;
Upon a charger, thorough bred,
To show off with a high plumed head,
The gaze of Legs and Spoons;
To rein him up in all his paces,
Then splash the passing trav'lers' faces,
And spur and caper by;

~237~~

Get drunk at mess, then sally out
To Lisle-street fair, or beat a scout,
Or black a waiter's eye.
Of all the clubs,--the Clippers, Screws,
The Fly-by-nights, Four Horse, and Blues,
The Daffy, Snugs, and Peep-o-day,
Tom's an elect; at all the Hells,
At Bolton-Row, with tip-top swells,
And Tat's men, deep he'd play.
His debts oft paid by Snyder's{24} pelf,
Who paid at last a debt himself,
Which all that live must pay.
Tom book'd{25} the old one snug inside,
Wore sables, look'd demure and sigh'd
Some few short hours away;
Till from the funeral return'd,
Then Tom with expectation burn'd
To hear his father's will:--
"Twice twenty thousand pounds in cash,"--
"That's prime," quoth Tom, "to cut a dash
"At races or a mill,"--
"All my leaseholds, house and plate,
My pictures and freehold estate,
I give my darling heir;
Not doubting but, as I in trade
By careful means this sum have made,
He'll double it with care."--
"Ay, that I will, I'll hit the nick,
Seven's the main,--here Ned and Dick
Bring down my blue and buff;
Take off the hatband, banish grief,
'Tis time to turn o'er a new leaf,
Sorrow's but idle stuff."
Fame, trumpet-tongued, Tom's wealth reports,
His name is blazon'd at the courts
Of Carlton and the Fives.
His equipage, his greys, his dress,
His polish'd self, so like _noblesse_,
"Is ruin's sure perquise."

24 Flash for tailor.

25 Screwed up in his coffin.

~238~~

Beau Brummell's bow had not the grace,
Alvanly stood eclipsed in face,
The _Roues_ all were mute,
So exquisite, so chaste, unique,
The mark for every Leg and Greek,
Who play the concave suit.{26}
At Almack's, paradise o' the West,
Tom's hand by prince and peer is press'd,
And fashion cries supreme.
His Op'ra box, and little quean,
To lounge, to see, and to be seen,
Makes life a pleasant dream.
Such dreams, alas! are transient light,
A glow of brightness and delight,
That wakes to years of pain.
Tom's round of pleasure soon was o'er,
And clam'rous _duns_ assail the door
When credit's on the wane.
His riches pay his folly's price,
And vanish soon a sacrifice,
Then friendly comrades fly;
His ev'ry foible dragg'd to light,
And faults (unheeded) crowd in sight,
Asham'd to show his face.
Beset by tradesmen, lawyers, _bums_,{21}
He sinks where fashion never comes,
A wealthier takes his place.
_Beat at all points, floor'd, and clean'd out_,
Tom yet resolv'd to brave it out,

36 Cards cut in a peculiar manner, to enable the Leg to
fleece his Pigeon securely.

27 "Persons employed by the sheriff to hunt and seize human
prey: they are always bound in sureties for the due
execution of their office, and thence are called _Bound
Bailiff's_, which the common people have corrupted into a
much more homely ex-pression--_to wit, Bum-Bailiffs or
Bums_."--l _Black Com_. 346.

~239~~

If die he must, die game.
Some few months o'er, again he strays
'Midst scenes of former halcyon days,
On other projects bent;
No more ambitious of a name,
Or mere unprofitable fame,
On gain he's now intent,
To deal a flush, or cog a die,
Or plan a deep confed'racy
To pluck a pigeon bare.
Elected by the Legs a brother,
His plan is to entrap some other
In Greeting's fatal snare.
Here for a time his arts succeed,
But vice like his, it is decreed,
Can never triumph long:
A noble, who had been his prey,
Convey'd the well cogg'd bones away,
Exposed them to the throng.
Now blown, "his occupation's" o'er,
Indictments, actions, on him pour,
His ill got wealth must fly;
And faster than it came, the law
Can fraud's last ill got shilling draw,
Tom's pocket soon drain'd dry.
Again at sea, a wreck, struck down,
By fickle fortune and the town,
Without the means to bolt.
His days in bed, for fear of Bums,
At night among the Legs he comes,
Who gibe him for a dolt.
He's cut, and comrades, one by one,
Avoid him as they would a dun.
Here finishes our tale--
Tom Tick, the life, the soul, the whim
Of courts and fashion when in trim,
Is left--
WAITING FOR BAIL.

~240~~

By the time old Mark Supple had finished his somewhat lengthy tale, the major part of the motley group of eccentrics who surrounded us were terribly cut: the garrulous organ of Jack Milburn was unable to articulate a word; _Goose_ B----l, the gourmand, was crammed full, and looked, as he lay in the arms of Morpheus, like a fat citizen on the night of a lord mayor's dinner--a lump of inanimate mortality. In one corner lay a poor little Grecian, papa Chrysanthus Demetriades, whom Tom Echo had plied with bishop till he fell off his chair; Count Dennet was safely deposited beside him; and old Will Stewart,{28} the poacher, was just humming himself to sleep with the fag end of an old ballad as he sat upon the ground

28 Portraits of the three last-mentioned eccentrics will be
found in page 245, sketched from the life.

~241~~

resting his back against the defunct Grecian. A diminutive little cripple, Johnny Holloway, was sleeping between his legs, upon whose head Tom had fixed a wig of immense size, crowned with an opera hat and a fox's tail for a feather. "Now to bury the dead," said Eglantine; "let in the lads, Mark." "Now we shall have a little sport, old fellows," said Echo: "come, Transit, where are your paints and brushes?" In a minute the whole party were most industriously engaged in disfiguring the objects around us by painting their faces, some to resemble tattooing, while others were decorated with black eyes, huge mustachios, and different embellishments, until it would have been impossible for friend or relation to have recognised any one of their visages. This ceremony being completed, old Mark introduced a new collection of worthies, who had been previously instructed for the sport; these were, I found, no other than the well-known Oxford _cads_, Marston Will, Tom Webb, Harry Bell, and Dick Rymal,{29} all out and outers, as Echo reported, for a spree with the gown, who had been regaled at some neighbouring public house by Eglantine, to be in readiness for the wind-up of his eccentric entertainment; to the pious care of these worthies were consigned the strange-looking mortals who surrounded us. The plan was, I found, to carry them out quietly between two men, deposit them in a cart which they had in waiting, and having taken them to the water-side, place them in a barge and send them drifting down the water in the night to Iffley, where their consternation on recovering the next morning and strange appearance would be sure to create a source of merriment both for the city and university. The instructions were most punctually obeyed, and the amusement the freak afterwards afforded the good people of Oxford will not very

29 Well-known sporting cads, who are always ready to do a
good turn for the _togati_, either for sport or spree.

~242~~quickly be forgotten. Thus ended the spread--and now having taken more than my usual quantity of wine, and being withal fatigued by the varied amusements of the evening, I would fain have retired to rest: but this, I found, would be contrary to good fellowship, and not at all in accordance with _college principles_. "We must have a spree" said Echo, "by way of finish, the rum ones are all shipped off safely by this time--suppose we introduce Blackmantle to our _grandmamma_, and the pretty _Nuns_ of St. Clement's." "Soho, my good fellows," said Transit; "we had better defer our visit in that direction until the night is more advanced. The old don{30} of----, remember, celebrates the Paphian mysteries in that quarter occasionally, and we may not always be able to _shirk_ him as effectually as on the other evening, when Echo and myself were snugly enjoying a _tete-a-tete_ with Maria B----and little Agnes S----{31}; we accidentally caught a glimpse of _old Morality_ cautiously toddling after the pious Mrs. A--ms, _vide-licet_ of arts,{32} a lady who has been regularly matriculated at this university, and taken up her degrees some years since. It was too rich a bit to lose, and although at the risk of discovery, I booked it immediately _eo instunti. 'Exegi monumentum aere perennius_'--and here it is."

30 We all must reverence dons; and I'm about
To talk of dons--irreverently I doubt.
For many a priest, when sombre evening gray
Mantles the sky, o'er maudlin bridge will stray--
Forget his oaths, his office, and his fame,
And mix in company I will not name.

_Aphrodisiacal Licenses_.
31 Paphian divinities in high repute at Oxford.

32 Pretty much in the same sense, probably, in which Moore's
gifted leman Fanny is by him designated Mistress of Arts.

And oh!--if a fellow like me
May confer a diploma of hearts,
With my lip thus I seal your degree,
My divine little Mistress of Arts.

For an account of Fan's proficiency in astronomy, ethics,
(not the Nicomachean), and eloquence, see Moore's Epistles,
vol. ii. p. 155.

~243~~

"An excellent likeness, i'faith, is it," said Eglantine; whose eyes twinkled like stars amid the wind-driven clouds, and whose half clipped words and unsteady motion sufficiently evinced that he had paid due attention to the old laws of potation. "There's nothing like the _cloth_ for comfort, old fellows; remember what a man of Christ Church wrote to George Colman when he was studying for the law.

'Turn parson, Colman, that's the way to thrive;
Your parsons are the happiest men alive.
Judges, there are but twelve; and never more,
But stalls untold, and Bishops twenty-four.
Of pride and claret, sloth and venison full,
Yon prelate mark, right reverend and dull!

~244~~

He ne'er, good man, need pensive vigils keep
To preach his audience once a week to sleep;
On rich preferment battens at his ease,
Nor sweats for tithes, as lawyers toil for fees.'

If Colman had turned parson he would have had a bishoprick long since, and rivalled that jolly old ancient Walter de Mapes. Then what an honour he would have been to the church; no drowsy epistles spun out in lengthened phrase,

'Like to the quondam student, named of yore,
Who with Aristotle calmly choked a boar;'

but true orthodox wit: the real light of grace would have fallen from his lips and charmed the crowded aisle; the rich epigrammatic style, the true creed of the churchman; no fear of canting innovations or evangelical sceptics; but all would have proceeded harmoniously, ay, and piously too--for true piety consists not in purgation of the body, but in purity of mind. Then if we could but have witnessed Colman filling the chair in one of our common rooms, enlivening with his genius, wit, and social conversation the learned _dromedaries_ of the Sanctum, and dispelling the habitual gloom of a College Hospitium, what chance would the sectarians of Wesley, or the infatuated followers even of that arch rhapsodist, Irving, have with the attractive eloquence and sound reasoning of true wit?" "Bravo! bravo!"vociferated the party. "An excellent defence of the church," said Echo, "for which Eglantine deserves to be inducted to a valuable benefice; suppose we adjourn before the college gates are closed, and install him under the Mitre." A proposition that met with a ready acquiescence from all present.{33}

33 The genius of wit, mirth, and social enjoyment, can never
find more sincere worshippers than an Oxford wine-party
seated round the festive board; here the sallies of youth,
unchecked by care, the gaiety of hearts made glad with wine
and revelry, the brilliant flashes of genius, and the eye
beaming with delight, are found in the highest perfection.
The merits of the society to which the youthful aspirant for
fame and glory happens to belong often afford the embryo
poet the theme of his song. Impromptu parodies on old and
popular songs often add greatly to the enjoy-ment of the
convivial party. The discipline of the university prohibits
late hours; and the evenings devoted to enjoyment are not
often disgraced by excess.

~245~~

TOWN AND GOWN, AN OXFORD ROW.

Battle of the Togati and the Town-Raff--A Night-Scene in the
High-Street, Oxford--Description of the Combatants--Attack
of the Gunsmen upon the Mitre--Evolutions of the
Assailants--Manoeuvres of the Proctors and Bull Dogs--
Perilous Condition of Blackmantle and his associates,
Eglantine, Echo, and Transit--Snug Retreat of Lionise--The
High-Street after the Battle--Origin of the Argotiers, and
Invention of Cant-phrases--History of the Intestine Wars and
Civil Broils of Oxford, from the Time of Alfred--Origin of
the late Strife--Ancient Ballad--Retreat of the Togati--
Reflections of a Freshman--Black Matins, or the Effect of
late Drinking upon early Risers--Visit to Golgotha, or the
Place of Sculls--Lecture from the Big-Wigs--Tom Echo
receives Sentence of Rustication.

The clocks of Oxford were echoing each other in proclaiming the hour of midnight, when Eglantine led the way by opening the door of his _hospitium_ to descend into the quadrangle of Brazen-nose. "Steady, steady, old fellows," said Horace; "remember the don on the first-floor--hush, all be silent as the grave till you pass his oak." "Let us _row_ him--let us fumigate the old fellow," said Echo; "this is the night of purification, lads--bring some pipes, and a little frankincense, Mark." And in this laudable ~247~~enterprise of blowing asafoetida smoke through the don's key-hole the whole party were about to be instantly engaged, when an accidental slip of Eglantine's spoiled the joke. While in the act of remonstrating with his jovial companions on the dangerous consequences attending detection, the scholar sustained a fall which left him suddenly deposited against the oak of the crabbed old Master of Arts, who inhabited rooms on the top of the lower staircase; fortunately, the dignitary had on that evening carried home more _liquor_ than _learning_ from the common room, and was at the time of the accident almost as sound asleep as the original founder. "There lies the domini of the feast," said Echo, "knocked down in true orthodox style by the bishop--follow your leader, boys; and take care of your craniums, or you may chance to get a few phreno-lo-lo-logi-cal bu-lps--I begin to feel that hard study has somewhat impaired my artic-tic-u-u-la-tion, but then I can always raise a per-pendic-dic-u-u-lar, you see--always good at mathemat-tics. D--n Aristotle, and the rest of the saints! say I: you see what comes of being logical." All of which exultation over poor Eglantine's disaster, Echo had the caution to make while steadying himself by keeping fast hold of one of the balustrades on the landing; which that arch wag Transit perceiving, managed to cut nearly through with a knife, and then putting his foot against it sent Tom suddenly oft in a flying leap after his companion, to the uproarious mirth of the whole party. By the time our two friends had recovered their legs, we were all in marching order for the Mitre; working in sinuosities along, for not one of the party could have moved at right angles to any given point, or have counted six street lamps without at least multiplying them to a dozen. In a word, they were ripe for any spree, full of frolic, and bent on mischief; witness the piling a huge load of coals ~248~~against one man's door, screwing up the oak of another, and _milling the glaze_ of a third, before we quitted the precincts of Brazen-nose, which we did separately, to escape observation from the Cerberus who guarded the portal.

It is in a college wine-party that the true character of your early associates are easily discoverable: out of the excesses of the table very often spring the truest impressions, the first, but indelible affection which links kindred spirits together in after-time, and cements with increasing years into the most inviolable friendship. Here the sallies of youth, unchecked by care, or fettered by restraint, give loose to mirth and revelry; and the brilliancy of genius and the warm-hearted gaiety of pure delight are found in the highest perfection.

The blue light of heaven illumined the magnificent square of Radcliffe, when we passed from beneath the porch of Brazen-nose, and tipping with her silvery light the surrounding architecture, lent additional beauty to the solemn splendour of the scene. Sophisticated as my faculties certainly were by the copious libations and occurrences of the day, I could yet admire with reverential awe the imposing grandeur by which I was surrounded.

A wayward being from my infancy, not the least mark of my eccentricity is the peculiar humour in which I find myself when I have sacrificed too freely to the jolly god: unlike the major part of mankind, my temperament, instead of being invigorated and enlivened by the sparkling juice of the grape, loses its wonted nerve and elasticity; a sombre gloominess pervades the system, the pulse becomes nervous and languid, the spirits flagging and depressed, and the mind full of chimerical apprehensions and _ennui_. It was in this mood that Eglantine found me ruminating on the noble works before me, while resting against a part of the pile of Radcliffe library, contemplating ~249~~the elegant crocketed pinnacles of All Souls, the delicately taper spire of St. Mary's, and the clustered enrichments and imperial canopies of masonry, and splendid traceries which every where strike the eye: all of which objects were rendered trebly impressive from the stillness of the night, and the flittering light by which they were illumined. I had enough of wine and frolic, and had hoped to have _shirked_ the party and stolen quietly to my lodgings, there to indulge in my lucubrations on the scene I had witnessed, and note in my journal, according to my usual practice, the more prominent events of the day, when Horace commenced with--

"Where the devil, old fellow, have you been hiding yourself? I've been hunting you some time. A little _cut_, I suppose: never mind, my boy, you'll be better presently. Here's glorious sport on foot; don't you hear the war-cry?" At this moment a buzz of distant voices broke upon the ear like the mingled shouts of an election tumult. "There they are, old fellow: come, buckle on your armour--we must try your mettle to-night. All the university are out--a glorious row--come along, no shirking---the _togati_ against the town raff--remember the sacred cause, my boy." And in this way, spite of all remonstrance, was I dragged through the lane and enlisted with the rest of my companions into a corps of university men who were just forming themselves in the High-street to repel the daring attack of the very scum of the city, who had ill-treated and beaten some gownsmen in the neighbourhood of St. Thomas's, and had the temerity to follow and assail them in their retreat to the High-street with every description of villanous epithet, and still more offensive and destructive missiles. "Stand fast there, old fellows," said Echo; who, although _devilishly cut_, seemed to be the leader of the division. "Where's old Mark Supple?" "Here I am sir, _take notice_" said the old scout, who appeared as active as ~250~~an American rifleman. "Will Peake send us the bludgeons?" "He won't open his doors, sir, for anybody, _take notice_." "Then down with the Mitre, my hearties;" and instantly a rope was thrown across the _bishop's cap_ by old Mark, and the tin sign, lamp, and all came tumbling into the street, smashed into a thousand pieces.

PEAKE (looking out of an upper window in his night-cap). Doey be quiet, and go along, for God's zake, gentlemen! I shall be _ruinated and discommoned_ if I open my door to any body.

TOM ECHO. You infernal old fox-hunter! if you don't doff your knowledge bag and come to the door, we'll mill all your glaze, burst open your gates, and hamstring all your horses.

MRS. PEAKE (in her night-gown). Stand out of the way, Peake; let me speak to the gentlemen. Gentlemen, doey, gentlemen, consider my reputation, and the reputation of ray house. O dear, gentlemen, doey go somewhere else--we've no sticks here, I azzure ye, and we're all in bed. Doey go, gentlemen, pray do.

TRANSIT. Dame Peake, if you don't open your doors directly, we'll break them open, and unkennel that old bagg'd fox, your husband, and drink all the black strap in your cellar, and--and play the devil with the maids.

MRS. PEAKE. Don'te say so, don'te say so, Mr. Transit; I know you to be a quiet, peaceable gentleman, and I am zure you will befriend me: doey persuade 'em to go away, pray do,

~251~~

MARK SUPPLE. Dame Peake

MRS. PEAKE. Oh, Mr. Mark Supple, are you there I talk to the gentlemen, Mr. Mark, pray do.

MARK SUPPLE. It's no use, dame Peake; they won't be gammon'd, take notice. If you have any old broom-handles, throw 'em out directly, and if not, throw all the brooms you have in the house out of window--throw out all your sticks--throw Peake out. I'm for the gown, _take notice_. Down with the town! down with the town!

BILL MAGS. (The waiter, at a lower window.) Hist, hist, Mr. Echo; Mr. Eglantine, hist, hist; master's gone to the back of the house with all the sticks he can muster; and here's an old kitchen-chair you can break up and make bludgeons of (throwing the chair out of window), and here's the cook's rolling-pin, and I'll go and forage for more ammunition.

HORACE EGLANTINE. You're a right good fellow, Bill; and I'll pay you before I do your master; and the Brazen-nose men shall make your fortune.

TOM ECHO. But where's the academicals I sent old Captain Cook for 1 We shall be beating one another in the dark without caps and gowns.

CAPTAIN COOK. (A scout of Christ Church.) Here I be, zur. That old rogue, Dick Shirley, refuses to send any gowns; he says he has nothing but noblemen's gowns and gold tufts in his house.

~252~~

THE HON. LILLYMAN LIONISE. By the honour of my ancestry, that fellow shall never draw another stitch for Christ Church as long as he lives. Come along, captain: by the honour of my ancestry, we'll uncase the old _snyder_; we'll have gowns, I warrant me, noble or not noble, gold tufts or no tufts. Come along, Cook.

In a few moments old Captain Cook and the exquisite returned loaded with gowns and caps, having got in at the window and completely cleared the tailor's shop of all his academicals, in spite of his threats or remonstrances. In the interim, old Mark Supple and Echo had succeeded in obtaining a supply of broom-handles and other weapons of defence; when the insignia of the university, the toga and cap, were soon distributed indiscriminately: the numbers of the university men increased every moment; and the yell of the town raff seemed to gain strength with every step as they approached the scene of action. Gown! gown! Town! town! were the only sounds heard in every direction; and the clamour and the tumult of voices were enough to shake the city with dismay. The authorities were by no means idle; but neither proctors or pro's, or marshal, or bull-dogs, or even deans, dons, and dignitaries, for such there were, who strained their every effort to quell the disturbance, were at all attended to, and many who came as peace-makers were compelled in their own defence to take an active part in the fray.

From the bottom of the High-street to the end of the corn-market, and across again through St. Aldate's to the old bridge, every where the more peaceable and respectable citizens might be seen popping their noddles out of window, and rubbing their half-closed eyes with affright, to learn the cause of the alarming strife.

~253~~Of the strong band of university men who rushed on eager for the coming fray, a number of them were fresh light-hearted Etonians and old Westminsters, who having just arrived to place themselves under the sacred banners of Academus, thought their honour and their courage both concerned in defending the _togati_: most of these youthful zealots had as usual, at the beginning of a term, been lodged in the different inns and houses of the city, and from having drank somewhat freely of the welcome cup with old schoolfellows and new friends, were just ripe for mischief, unheedful of the consequences or the cause.

On the other hand, the original fomenters of the strife had recruited their forces with herds of the lowest rabble gathered from the purlieus of their patron saints, St. Clement and St. Thomas, and the shores of the Charwell,--the bargees, and butchers, and labourers, and scum of the suburbians: a huge conglomerated mass of thick sculls, and broad backs, and strengthy arms, and sturdy legs, and throats bawling for revenge, and hearts bursting with wrathful ire, rendered still more frantic and desperate by the magic influence of their accustomed war-whoop. These formed the base barbarian race of Oxford truands,{1} including every vile thing that passes under the generic name of raff. From college to college the mania spread with the rapidity of an epidemic wind; and scholars, students, and fellows were every where in motion: here a stout bachelor of arts might be seen knocking down the ancient Cerberus who opposed his passage; there the iron-bound college gates were forced open by the united power of the youthful inmates. In another quarter might be seen the heir of some noble family risking his neck in the headlong leap {2}; and near him, a party of the _togati_ scaling the sacred battlements with as much energetic zeal as the ancient crusaders would have displayed against the ferocious Saracens.

1 The French _truands_ were beggars, who under the pretence
of asking alms committed the most atrocious crimes and
excesses.

2 It was on one of these occasions that the celebrated
Charles James Fox made that illustrious leap from the window
of Hertford College.

~254~~Scouts flying in every direction to procure caps and gowns, and scholars dropping from towers and windows by bell-ropes and _sheet-ladders_; every countenance exhibiting as much ardour and frenzied zeal, as if the consuming elements of earth and fire threatened the demolition of the sacred city of Rhedycina.

It was on the spot where once stood the ancient conduit of Carfax, flanked on the one side by the venerable church of St. Martin and the colonnade of the old butter-market, and on the other by the town-hall, from the central point of which terminate, south, west, and north, St. Aldate's, the butcher-row, and the corn-market, that the scene exhibited its more substantial character. It was here the assailants first caught sight of each other; and the yell, and noise, and deafening shouts became terrific. In a moment all was fury and confusion: in the onset the gown, confident and daring, had evidently the advantage, and the retiring raff fell back in dismay; while the advancing and victorious party laid about them with their quarter-staves, and knuckles drawing blood, or teeth, or cracking crowns at every blow, until they had driven them back to the end of the corn-market. It was now that the strong arm and still stronger science of the sturdy bachelors of Brazen-nose, and the square-built, athletic sons of Cambria, the Jones's of Jesus, proved themselves of sterling mettle, and bore the brunt of the battle with unexampled courage: at this instant a second reinforcement arriving from the canals and wharfs on the banks of the Isis, having forced their way by George-lane, brought timely assistance to the town raff, and enabled them again to rally and present so formidable an appearance, ~255~~that the _togati_ deemed it prudent to retreat upon their reserve, who were every moment accumulating in immense numbers in the High-street: to this spot the townsmen, exulting in their trifling advantage, had the temerity to follow and renew the conflict, and here they sustained the most signal defeat: for the men of Christ Church, and Pembroke, and St. Mary's Hall, and Oriel, and Corpus Christi, had united their forces in the rear; while the front of the gown had fallen back upon the effective Trinitarians, and Albanians, and Wadhamites, and men of Magdalen, who had by this time roused them from their monastic towers and cells to fight the holy war, and defend their classic brotherhood: nor was this all the advantages the gown had to boast of, for the _scouts_, ever true to their masters, had summoned the lads of the fancy, and Marston Will, and Harry Bell, and a host of out and outers, came up to the scratch, and floored many a _youkel_ with their _bunch of fives_. It was at this period that the conflict assumed its most appalling feature, for the townsmen were completely hemmed into the centre, and fought with determined courage, presenting a hollow square, two fronts of which were fully engaged with the infuriated gown. Long and fearful was the struggle for mastery, and many and vain the attempts of the townsmen to retreat, until the old Oxford night coach, in its way up the High-street to the Star Inn in the corn-market, was compelled to force its passage through the conflicting parties; when the bull-dogs and the constables, headed by marshal Holliday and old Jack Smith, united their forces, and following the vehicle, opened a passage into the very centre of the battle, where they had for some time to sustain the perilous attacks of oaths, and blows, and kicks from both parties, until having fairly wedged themselves between the combatants, they succeeded by threats and entreaties, and seizing a few of the ringleaders on ~256~~both sides, to cause a dispersion, and restore by degrees the peace of the city.

It was, however, some hours before the struggle had completely subsided, a running fight being kept up by the various straggling parties in their retreat; and at intervals the fearful cry of Town and Gown would resound from some plebeian alley or murky lane as an unfortunate wight of the adverse faction was discovered stealing homewards, covered with mud and scars. Of my college friends and merry companions in the fray, Tom Echo alone remained visible, and he had (in his own phraseology) _dropped his sash_: according to Hudibras, he looked

"As men of inward light are wont
To turn their opticks in upon't;"

or, in plain English, had an _invisible_ eye. The "_disjecta fragmenta_" of his academical robe presented a most pitiful appearance; it was of the ragged sort, like the _mendicula impluviata_ of Plautus, and his under habiliments bore evident marks of his having bitten the dust (i.e. mud) beneath the ponderous arm of some heroic blacksmith or bargee; but yet he was lively, and what with blows and exertion, perfectly sobered. "What, Blackmantle? and alive, old fellow? Well clone, my hearty; I saw you set to with that fresh water devil from Charwell, the old Bargee, and a pretty milling you gave him. I had intended to have seconded you, but just as I was making up, a son of Vulcan let fly his sledge-hammer slap at my _smeller_, and stopped up one of my _oculars_, so I was obliged to turn to and finish him off; and when I had completed the job, you had bolted; not, however, without leaving your marks behind you. But where's Eglantine? where's Transit? where's the Honourable? By my soul the _roue_ can handle his _mauleys_ well; I saw him floor one of the raff in very prime style. But come along, my hearty; we must walk over the ~257~~field of battle and look after the wounded: I am desperately afraid that Eglantine is _booked inside_--saw him surrounded by the _bull-dogs_--made a desperate effort to rescue him--and had some difficulty to clear myself; but never mind, ''tis the fortune of war,' and there's very good lodging in the castle. Surely there's Mark Supple with some one on his back. What, Mark, is that you?" "No, sir--yes, sir--I mean, sir, it's a gentleman of our college--O dearey me, I thought it had been a proctor or a bull-dog--for Heaven's sake, help, sir! here's Mr. Transit quite senseless, _take notice_--picked him up in a doorway in Lincoln-lane, bleeding like a pig, _take notice_.

O dear, O dear, what a night this has been! We shall all be sent to the castle, and perhaps transported for manslaughter. For Heaven's sake, Mr. Echo, help! bear his head up--take hold of his feet, Mr. Blackmantle, and I'll go before, and ring at Dr. Tuckwell's bell, _take notice_." In this way poor Transit was conveyed to the surgery, where, after cleansing him from the blood and dirt, and the application of some aromatics, he soon recovered, and happily had not sustained any very serious injury. From old Mark we learned that Eglantine was a captive to the bull-dogs, and safely deposited in the castle along with Marston Will, who had fought nobly in his defence: of Lionise we could gain no other tidings than that Mark had seen him at the end of the fray climbing up to the first floor window of a tradesman's house in the High-street, whose daughter it was well known he had a little intrigue with, and where, as we concluded, he had found a balsam for his wounds, and shelter for the night. It was nearly three o'clock when I regained my lodging and found Mags, the waiter of the Mitre, on the look-out for me: Echo had accompanied me home, and in our way we had picked up a wounded man of University College, who had suffered severely in the contest. It was worthy ~258~~the pencil of a Hogarth to have depicted the appearance of the High-street after the contest, when we were cautiously perambulating from end to end in search of absent friends, and fearing at every step the approach of the proctors or their bull-dogs: the lamps were almost all smashed, and the burners dangling to and fro with the wind, the greater part extinguished, or just emitting sufficient light to make night horrible. On the lamp-irons might be seen what at first sight was most appalling, the figure of some hero of the _togati_ dangling by the neck, but which, on nearer approach, proved to be only the dismembered academical of some gentleman-commoner hung up as a trophy by the town raff. Broken windows and shutters torn from their hinges, and missiles of every description covering the ground, from the terrific Scotch paving-pebble torn up from the roads, to the spokes of coach-wheels, and the oaken batons, and fragments of lanterns belonging to the town watch, skirts of coats, and caps, and remnants of _togas_ both silken and worsted, bespoke the quality of the heroes of the fray; while here and there a poor terrified wretch was exposing his addle head to the mildews of the night-damp, fearing a revival of the contest, or anxiously watching the return of husband, brother, father, or son.{3}

3 This picture of an Oxford row is not, as the general
reader might imagine, the mere fiction of the novelist, but
the true description of a contest which occurred some few
years since; the leading features of which will be (although
the names have been, except in one or two instances,
studiously suppressed) easily recognised by many of the
present sons of Alma Mater who shared in the perils and
glory of the battle. To those who are strangers to the
sacred city, and these casual effervescences of juvenile
spirit, the admirable graphic view of the scene by my friend
Bob Transit (see plate) will convey a very correct idea.

To the credit of the more respectable and wealthy class of
Oxford citizens it should be told, they are now too sensible
of their own interest, and, besides, too well-informed to
mix with these civil disturbances; the lower orders,
therefore, finding themselves unequal to the contest without
their support, submit to the _togati_; and thus the civil
wars that have raged in Oxford with very little interruption
from the days of Alfred seem for the present extinguished.

~259~~

On our arrival at the Mitre, poor Mrs. Peake, half frightened to death, was up and busy in administering to the sufferers various consolatory draughts composed of bishop, and flesh and blood{4} and _rumbooze_; while the chambermaids, and Peake, and the waiters were flying about the house with warm water, and basins, and towels, to the relief of the numerous applicants, who all seemed anxious to wash away the dirty remembrances of the disgusting scene.

Hitherto I had been so busily engaged in defending myself and preserving my friends, that I had not a moment for reflection. It has been well observed, that "place an Englishman in the field of battle, no matter what his political feelings, he will fight like a lion, by instinct, or the mere force of example;" so with the narrator of this contest. I had not, up to this time, the least knowledge of the original cause of the row. I have naturally an aversion to pugilistic contests and tumultuous sports, and yet I found by certain bruises, and bumps, and stains of blood, and stiffness of joints, and exhaustion, and the loss of my upper garment, which I had then only just discovered, that I must have borne a _pretty considerable_{5} part in the contest, and carried away no small share of victorious laurels, since I had escaped without any very visible demonstration of my adversaries' prowess; but for this I must acknowledge myself indebted to my late private tutor the Eton cad, Joe Cannon, whose fancy lectures on noseology, and the science of the milling system, had enabled me to

4 Brandy and port wine, half and half.

5 An Oxford phrase.

~260~~defend my bread-basket, cover up my peepers, and keep my nob out of chancery{6}: a merit that all

6 The use of a peculiar cant phraseology for different
classes, it would appear, originated with the Argoliers, a
species of French beggars or monkish impostors, who were
notorious for every thing that was bad and infamous: these
people assumed the form of a regular government, elected a
king, established a fixed code of laws, and invented a
language peculiar to themselves, constructed probably by
some of the debauched and licentious youths, who, abandoning
their scholastic studies, associated with these vagabonds.
In the poetical life of the French robber Cartouche, a
humorous account is given of the origin of the word _Argot_;
and the same author has also compiled a dictionary of the
language then in use by these people, which is annexed to
the work. Hannan, in his very singular work, published in
1566, entitled "A Caveat, or Warning for Common Cursitors
(runners), vulgarly called Vagabones," has described a
number of the words then in use, among what he humorously
calls the "lued lousey language of these lewtering beskes
and lasy lovrels." And it will be remembered that at that
time many of the students of our universities were among
these cursitors, as we find by an old statute of the xxii of
Hen. VIII.; "that scholars at the universities begging
without licence, were to be punished like common cursi-
tors." The vagabonds of Spain are equally celebrated for
their use of a peculiar slang or cant, as will be seen on
reference to a very curious work of Rafael Frianoro,
entitled" _Il Vagabondo, overo sferzo de bianti e
Vagabondi_." _Viterbo_, 1620, 12mo. As also in those
excellent novels, "Lazarillo do Tormes," and "Guzman de
Alfarache." The _Romany_ or gipsies' dialect is given with
the history of that singular people by Mr. Grellman; an
English translation of which was published in 1787, by
Roper, in quarto: from those works, Grose principally
compiled his "Lexicon Ballatronicum." In the present day we
have many professors of slang, and in more ways than one,
too many of cant; the greater part of whom are dull
impostors, who rather invent strange terms to astonish the
vulgar than adhere to the peculiar phrases of the persons
they attempt to describe. It has long been matter of regret
with the better order of English sporting men, that the
pugilistic contests and turf events of the day are not
written in plain English, "which all those who run might
read," instead of being rendered almost unintelligible by
being narrated in the language of beggars, thieves, and
pickpockets--a jargon as free from true wit as it is full of
obscenity.