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Title: Nuts to crack; or Quips, quirks, anecdote and facete of Oxford and Cambridge Scholars
Author: Gooch, Richard
Language: English
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                            NUTS TO CRACK;
                  Quips, Quirks, Anecdote and Facete


                         OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE

                                BY THE
                            ETC. ETC. ETC.

                        E. L. CAREY & A. HART.


Though I intend this preface, prelude, or proem shall occupy but
a single page, and be a _facile_ specimen of the _multum in parvo_
school, I find I have so little to say, I might spare myself the
trouble of saying that little, only it might look a little odd
(excuse my nibbing my pen) if, after writing a book, which by the way,
may prove no book at all, I should introduce it to my readers,--did
I say "READERS?"--what a theme to dilate upon! But stop, stop, Mr.
Exultation, nobody may read your book, _ergo_, you will have no
readers. Humph! I must nib my pen again. Cooks, grocers, butchers,
kitchenmaids, the roast! Let brighter visions rise: methink I see it
grace every room _Peckwater_ round: methink I see, wherever _mighty
Tom_ sonorous peals forth his solemn "Come, come, come!" the sons of
OXON fly to _Tallboys'_ store, or _Parker's_ shelves, and cry "_the_
Book, _the_ Book!" Methink I see in GRANTA'S streets a crowd for
_Deighton's_ and for _Stevenson's_--anon, "_the_ Book, _the_ Book,"
they cry "Give us _the_ Book!" "_Quips, Quirks, and Anecdotes?_" "Aye,
that's _the_ Book!" And, then, methink I see on CAMUS' side, or where
the Isis by her Christ Church glides, or Charwell's lowlier stream,
methink I see (as did the Spanish Prince of yore a son of Salamanca
beat his brow) some _togaed_ son of ALMA MATER beat, aye, laugh and
beat his brow. And then, like Philip, I demand the cause? And then
he laughs outright, and in my face he thrusts a book, and cries,
"Sir, read, read, read, ha, ha, ha, ha!" and stamps and laughs the
while;--and then, ye gods, it proves to be _the_ Book,--_Quips,
Quirks, and Anecdotes_--ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I cry you mercy, Sirs,
read, read, read, read! From ETON, HARROW, WINCHESTER, and WEST, come
orders thick as Autumn leaves e'er fell, as larks at Dunstable, or
Egypt's plagues. The Row is in commotion,--all the world rushes by
_Amen Corner_, or _St. Paul's_: how like a summer-hive they go and
come: the very CHAPTER'S caught the stirring theme, and, like King
James at Christ Church, scents a hum.[1] E'en CAXTON'S ghost stalks
forth to beg a tome, and _Wynkyn's_ shroud in vain protests his
claims. "There's not a copy left," cries _Whitt's_ or _Long's_, as
Caxton bolts with the extremest tome, and Wynkyn, foiled, shrinks
grimly into air,

  Veil'd in a cloud of scarce black-letter lore.

Had Galen's self, sirs, _ab origine_, or Æsculapius, or the modern
school of Pharmacopoeians drugged their patients thus, they long ago,
aye, long ago, had starved; your undertakers had been gone extinct,
and churchyards turned to gambol-greens, forsooth. Mirth, like good
wine, no help from physic needs:--blue devils and ennui! ha, ha, ha,
ha! Didst ever taste champagne? Then laugh, sirs, laugh,--"laugh
and grow fat," the maxim's old and good: the stars sang at their
birth--"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" I cry you mercy, sirs, _the_ Book, _the_
Book, _Quips, Quirks, and Anecdotes_. OXONIANS hear! "Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
Let GRANTA, too, respond. What would you more? _the_ Book, sirs, read,
read, read.

'Tis true, my work's a diamond in the rough, and that there still are
_sparkling bits_ abroad, by wits whose wages _may not be to die_,
would make it, aye, the very _Book of Books!_ Let them, anon, to
_Cornhill_ wend their way (P.P.) to cut a figure in ED. sec. 3d, or
4th, from Isis or from Cam. What if they say, as MAUDLIN Cole of
Boyle, because some Christ-Church wits adorned his page with their
chaste learning, "'_Tis a Chedder cheese made of the milk of all
the parish_,"--Sirs, d'ye think I'd wince and call them knave or
fool? Methink I'd joy to spur them to the task! Methink I see the
mirth-inspired sons of Christ-Church and the rest, penning Rich Puns,
Bon-mots, and Brave Conceits, for ages have, at OXON, "borne the
bell," and oft the table set in _royal_ roar. Methink I see the wits
of CAMUS, too, go laughing to the task,--and then, methink, O! what a
glorious toil were mine, at last, to send them trumpet-tongued through
all the world!

    [1] Sir Isaac Wake says in his _Rex Platonicus_, that when James
    the First attended the performance of a play in the Hall of
    Christ-Church, Oxford, the scholars applauded his Majesty by
    clapping their hands and _humming_. The latter somewhat surprised
    the royal auditor, but on its being explained to signify
    applause, he expressed himself satisfied.


  Was Oxford or Cambridge first Founded?                          13
  Origin of this celebrated Controversy                           16
  Died of Literary Mortification                                  17
  Sir Simon D'Ewes on Antiquity of Cambridge                   _ib._
  Gone to Jerusalem                                               18
  Cutting Retort--Liberty a Plant                             19, 20
  A Tailor surprised--Declining King George, &c.                  20
  Classical _Jeu D'Esprit_--Trait of Barrow                       21
  Inveterate Smokers                                              22
  Lover of Tobacco--A Wager, &c.                              22, 23
  Newton's Toast--Piety of Ray                                    23
  Devil over Lincoln--Radcliffe's Library                         24
  Traits of Dr. Bathurst--His Whip, &c.                           25
  Smart Fellows                                                _ib._
  Epigram--Tell us what you can't do?                         26, 27
  First Woman introduced into a Cloister                          27
  Cambridge Scholar and Ghost of Scrag of Mutton                  28
  Comparisons are odious                                          30
  Jaunt down a Patient's throat--Difference of Opinion        30, 31
  Petit-Maitre Physician--Anecdote of Porson                      31
  [Greek: Ou tode oud allo]--Aliquid--Di-do-dum                   32
  Bishop Heber's College Puns                                  _ib._
  Effect of Broad-wheeled Wagon, &c.                              33
  Queen Elizabeth and the Men of Exeter College, &c.              34
  Oxonians Posed--Lapsus Grammaticæ                               35
  Latin to be Used--Habit--Concussion                             36
  Comic Picture of Provost's Election                             37
  Sir, Dominus, Magistri, Sir Greene                              38
  Husbands beat their Wives--Attack on Ladies                     39
  Doings at Merton--Digging Graves with Teeth                     40
  Doctor's Gratitude to Horse--John Sharp's Rogue                 41
  Said as how you'd See--Much Noise as Please                 42, 43
  Mad Peter-house Poet--Grace Cup                             44, 45
  Tertiavit--Capacious Bowl--Horn Diversion                       46
  Bibulous Relique--Christian Custom--Feast Days                  47
  Walpole at Cambridge--College Dinner 16th Century           49, 50
  Black Night--Force of Imagination--Absent Habits            52, 53
  Anecdotes of Early Cambridge Poets                              54
  Cromwell's Pear-tree, &c.                                       58
  Stung by a B--Dr. P. Nest of Saxonists                          61
  Pleasant Mistake--Minding Roast                                 62
  College Exercise--Bell--Fun--Tulip-time                     62, 63
  King of Denmark--King William IV. visit Cambridge           64, 65
  Queen Elizabeth's Visit to Oxford and Cambridge             66, 67
  First Dissenter in England                                      67
  First English Play extant by Cambridge Scholar                  68
  Christ-Church Scholars Invented moveable Scenes                 70
  James I. at Oxford and Cambridge                                71
  Divinity Act--Latin Comedy                                  76, 77
  Case of Precedence--Smothered in Petticoats                 78, 79
  Brief Account of Boar's Head Carols                             79
  Celebration of, at Queen's College, Oxon                        83
  Cleaving Block--Being little                                84, 85
  Traits of Porson--Wakefield--Clarke                         87, 88
  Blue Beans--University Bedels--Dr. Bentley                  89, 90
  Great Gaudy All-Souls Mallard                                   91
  Oxford Dream--Compliments to Learned Men                    96, 98
  Point of Etiquette--Value of Syllable                     101, 102
  Cocks may Crow--Profane Scoffers                               102
  Jemmy Gordon--Oxford Wag                                  103, 106
  Cambridge Frolics--Black Rash                             107, 108
  Old Grizzle Wig--Shooting Anecdotes                       109, 110
  Bishop Watson's Progress--Paley, &c.                      111, 115
  Oxford Hoax--Good Saying                                  116, 117
  Walpole a Saint--Oxford famous for its Sophists, &c.           118
  Laconic Vice--Usum Oxon--Pert Oxonians                    120, 121
  Corrupted Latin Tongue--Surpassed Aristotle, &c.               121
  Set Aristotle Heels upwards--Art of Cutting               122, 123
  Soldiers at Oxford Disputation, &c.                            123
  Captain Rag--Dainty Morsels                               124, 125
  Answered in Kind--Powers of Digestion                     126, 127
  Inside Passenger--Traits of Paley                         128, 129
  Lord Burleigh and Dissenters--Sayings                     134, 135
  Porson--Greek Protestants at Oxon                         135, 136
  Cambridge Folk--Gyps--Drops of Brandy--Dessert for
        Twenty, &c.                                         137, 138
  Parr's Eloquence--Address--Vanity, &c.                         140
  Trick of the Devil--Three Classical Puns                  142, 143
  Acts--Pleasant Story--Epigram--Revenge                    144, 145
  Mothers' Darlings--Fathers' Favourites                    146, 147
  Iter Academicum--A Story                                  148, 149
  Anecdotes of Freshmen                                          150
  Lord Eldon--Whissonset Church                             151, 152
  Boots--Yellow Stockings--Fashion Hair                     153, 154
  Barber dressed--First Prelate wore Wig                    155, 159
  Boots, Spurs, &c. prohibited at Oxon                           159
  Whipping, &c.--Flying Cambridge Barber                    159, 160
  Isthmus Suez--Drink for Church                            160, 161
  Good Appetite--College Quiz--The Greatest Calf            162, 163
  Like Rabelais--Ambassadors King Jesus at Oxon             163, 164
  Effort Intellect--Dr. Hallifax--Dr. Tucker                164, 165
  Distich--Skeleton Sermons--Paid First                     165, 166
  In the Stocks--Hissing--Posing--Gross Pun                 167, 168
  Family Spintexts--Alcock--Barrow, Parr, &c.               169, 170
  Three-headed Priest--Burnt to Cinder                      171, 172
  Cantab Invented Short-hand--Humble Petition of Ladies     172, 173
  Turn for Humour--Repartees--All over Germany              174, 175
  Oxford and Cambridge Rebuses                                   175
  Something in your way--Duns--Out of Debt                       177
  Queering a Dun--Gray and Warburton                             179
  Canons of Criticism--Bishop Barrington                         181
  Pulpit Admonition--Simplicity of great Minds                   182
  Singularities--Triple Discourse                           184, 185
  Traits of Lord Sandwich--Lapsus Linguæ                    185, 186
  Oxford and Cambridge Loyalty--Clubs, &c.                  186, 189
  Retrogradation--On-dit                                         190
  Worcester Goblin--Cambridge Triposes                      191, 192
  Records of Cambridge Triposes--Wooden
        Spoon--Poll--Conceits of Porson, Vince, &c.         193, 194
  Classical Triposes--Wooden Wedge--Disney's Song           197, 198
  A Dreadful Fit of Rheumatism                                   199
  Parr an Ingrate--Le Diable--Critical Civilities           200, 201
  Sir Busick and Sir Isaac again--Cole: Deum                201, 202
  Freshman's Puzzle                                              202
  Sly Humourist--Noble Oxonian--Oxford Wag--Person
        of Gravity                                          203, 204
  THE ENOUGH                                                     204





       *       *       *       *       *


    "Oxford must from all antiquity have been either somewhere or
    nowhere. Where was it in the time of Tarquinius Priscus? If
    it was nowhere, it surely must have been somewhere. Where was
    it?"--_Facetiæ Cant._

Here is a conundrum to unravel, or a nut to crack, compared to which
the _Dædalean Labyrinth_ was a farce. After so many of the learned
have failed to extract the kernel, though by no means deficient in
what Gall and Spurzheim would call _jawitiveness_ (as their writings
will sufficiently show,) I should approach it with "fear and
trembling," did I not remember the encouraging reproof of "Queen Bess"
to Sir Walter Raleigh's "Fain would I climb but that I fear to
fall"--so _dentals_ to the task, come what may. A new light has been
thrown upon the subject of late, in an unpublished "Righte Merrie
Comedie," entitled "Trinity College, Cambridge," from which I extract
the following


  When first our ALMA MATER rose,
    Though we must laud her and love her,
  Nobody cares, and nobody knows,
    And nobody can discover:
  Some say a Spaniard, one CANTABER,
  Christen'd her, or gave birth to her,
  Or his daughter--that's likelier, more, by far,
    Though some honour king BRUTE above her.

  Pythagoras, beans-consuming dog,
    ('Tis the tongue of tradition that speaks,)
  Built her a lecture-room fit for a hog,[2]
    Where now they store cabbage and leeks:
  And there mathematics he taught us, they say,
  Till catching a cold on a dull rainy day,
  He packed up his _tomes_, and he ran away
    To the land of his fathers, the Greeks.

  But our ALMA MATER still can boast,
    Although the old Grecian would go,
  Of glorious names a mighty host,
    You'll find in Wood, Fuller and Coe:
  Of whom I will mention but just a few--
  BACON, and NEWTON, and MILTON will do:
  There are thousands more, I assure you,
    Whose honours encircle her brow.

  Then long may our ALMA MATER reign,
    Of learning and science the star,
  Whether she were from Greece or Spain,
    Or had a king Brute for her Pa;
  And with OXON, her sister, for aye preside,
  For it never was yet by man denied,
  That the world can't show the like beside,--
    Let echo repeat it afar!

    [2] The School of Pythagoras is an ancient building, situated
    behind St. John's College, Cambridge, wherein the _old
    Grecian_, says tradition, lectured before Cambridge became a
    university. Whether those who say so _lie_ under a mistake,
    as Tom Hood would say, I am not now going to inquire. At any
    rate, "sic transit," the building is now a barn or storehouse
    for garden stuff. Those who would be further acquainted with
    this relique of by-gone days, may read a very interesting
    account of it extant in the Library of the British Museum,
    illustrated with engravings, and written by a Fellow of
    Merton College, Oxford, to which society, says Wilson, in his
    _Memorabilia Catabrigiæ_, "it was given by Edward IV., who
    took it from King's College, Cambridge. It is falsely
    supposed to have been one of the places where the Croyland
    Monks read lectures."

It matters little whether we sons of _Alma Mater_ sprung from the
loins of Pythagoras, Cantaber, or the kings Brute and Alfred. They
were all respectable in their way, so that we need not blush, "proh
pudor," to own their paternity. But let us hear what the _cutting_
writer of _Terræ Filius_ has to say on the subject. "Grievous and
terrible has been the squabble, amongst our chronologers and
genealogists concerning


What deluges of Christian ink have been shed on both sides in this
weighty controversy, to prove which is the elder of the two learned
and most ingenious ladies? It is wonderful to see that they should
always be making themselves older than they really are; so contrary
to most of their sex, who love to conceal their wrinkles and gray
hairs as much as they can; whereas these two aged matrons are always
quarrelling for seniority, and employing counsel to plead their causes
for 'em. These are Old _Nick Cantalupe_ and _Caius_ on one side, and
_Bryan Twynne_ and _Tony Wood_ on the other, who, with equal learning,
deep penetration, and acuteness, have traced their ages back, God
knows how far: one was born just after the siege of _Troy_, and the
other several hundred years before Christ; since which time they have
gone by as many names as the pretty little _bantling_ at _Rome_,
or the woman that was hanged t'other day in _England_, for having
twenty-three husbands. _Oxford_, say they, was the daughter of
_Mempricius_, an old _British_ King, who called her from his own
name, _Caer Memprick_, alias _Greeklade_, alias _Leechlade_, alias
_Rhidycen_, alias _Bellositum_, alias _Oxenforde_, alias _Oxford_,
as all great men's children have several names. So was _Cambridge_,
say others, the daughter of one _Cantaber_, a _Spanish_ rebel and
fugitive, who called her _Caergrant_, alias _Cantabridge_, alias
_Cambridge_. But, that I may not affront either of these old ladies,"
adds this facetious but sarcastic writer, "I will not take it upon me
to decide which of the two hath most wrinkles * * * *. Who knows but
they may be twins."

Another authority, the author of the History of Cambridge, published
by Ackermann, in 1815, says that


Had its origin in 1564, when Queen Elizabeth visited the University of
Cambridge, and "the Public Orator, addressing Her Majesty, embraced
the opportunity of extolling the antiquity of the University to which
he belonged above that of Oxford. This occasioned Thomas Key, Master
of University, College, Oxford, to compose a small treatise on the
antiquity of his own University, which he referred to the fabulous
period when the Greek professors accompanied BRUTE to England; and to
the less ambiguous era of 870, when Science was invited to the banks
of the Isis, under the auspices of the great Alfred. A MS. copy of
this production of Thomas Key accidentally came into the hands of the
Earl of Leicester, from whom it passed into those of Dr. John Caius
(master and founder of Gonvile and Caius Colleges, Cambridge,) who,
resolving not to be vanquished in asserting the chronological claims
of his own University, undertook to prove the foundation of Cambridge
by CANTABER, nearly four hundred years before the Christian era. He
thus assigned the birth of Cambridge to more than 1200 anterior to
that which had been secondarily ascribed to Oxford by the champion of
that seat of learning; and yet it can be hardly maintained that he had
the best of the argument, since the primary foundation by the son of
Æneas, it is evident, remains unimpeached, and the name of Brute, to
say the least of it, is quite as creditable as that of Cantaber. The
work which Dr. John Caius published, though under a feigned name,
along with that which it was written to refute, was entitled, '_De
Antiquitate Catabrigiensis Academiæ_, libri ii. _in quorum 2do. de
Oxoniensis quoque gymnasii antiquitate disseritur, et Cantabrigiense
longe eo antiquius esse definitur, Londinense Authore: adjunximus
assertionem antiquitatis Oxoniensis Academiæ ab Oxoniensi quodam annis
jam elapsis duobus ad reginam conscriptam in qua docere conatur,
Oxoniense gymnasium Cantabrigiensi antiquius esse: ut ex collatione
facile intelligas, utra sit antequior. Excusum Londini,_ A. D. 1568,
_Mense Augusto, per Henricum Bynnenum,_ 12mo.'" and is extant in the
British Museum. As may well be supposed by those who are acquainted
with the progress of literary warfare, this work of Dr. John Caius
drew from his namesake, Thomas Caius, a vindication of that which
it was intended to refute; and this work he entitled "_Thomæ Caii
Vindiciæ Antiquitatis Academiæ Oxoniensis contra Joannem Caium
Cantabrigiensem._" These two singular productions were subsequently
published together by Hearne, the Oxford antiquary, who, with a
prejudice natural enough, boasts that the forcible logic of the Oxford
advocate "broke the heart and precipitated the death of his Cambridge
antagonist." In other words, Dr. John Caius, it is said,


On learning that his Oxford opponent had _prepared a new_ edition of
his work, _to be published after his death_, in which he was told were
some arguments thought to bear hard on his own. "But this appears to
have as little foundation as other stories of the kind," says the
editor of the History just quoted; "since it is not probable that Dr.
John Caius ever saw the strictures which are said to have occasioned
his death: for, as Thomas Caius died in 1572, they remained in MS.
till they were published by Hearne in 1730;"--a conclusion, however,
to which our learned historian seems to have jumped rather hastily, as
it was just as possible that a MS. copy reached Dr. John Caius in the
second as in the first case; and it is natural to suppose that the
Oxford champion would desire it should be so. As a specimen of the
manner in which such controversies are conducted, I conclude with the
brief notice, that Tony Wood, as the author of _Terræ-Fillius_ calls
him, has largely treated of the subject in his _Annals of Oxford_,
where he states, that


When compiling his work on the antiquity of the University of
Cambridge, "thought he should be able to set abroad a _new matter_,
that was never heard of before, for the advancement of his own town
and University of Cambridge above Oxford;" but "hath done very little
or nothing else but renewed the old Crambe, and taken up Dr. Cay's
old song, running with him in his opinions and tenets, whom he
before condemning of dotage, makes himself by consequence a dotard."
According to Sir Simon, "Valence College (_i. e._ Pembroke Hall)
was the first endowed college in England;" "his avouching which,"
says Wood, "is of no force;" and he, as might be expected, puts in a
claim for his own college (Merton, of Oxford,) "which," he adds, "Sir
Simon might have easily known, had he been conversant with histories,
was the oldest foundation in either University." Therefore, "if the
antiquity of Cambridge depends upon Valence College (or rather, upon
Peter House,) and that house upon this distich, which stood for a
public inscription in the parlour window thereof, it signifies

  "Qua præit Oxoniam Cancestria longa vetustas
  Primatus a Petri dicitur orsa Domo."

He finally overwhelms his opponent by adding, that Oxford became a
public University in 1264, and that a bull for the purpose was
obtained the previous year, Cambridge then "_being but an obscure
place of learning, if any at all_." Thus I have cracked _Nut the
First_. Those who would add "sweets to the sweets" may find them in
abundance in the writers I have named already; and the subject is
treated of very learnedly by Dyer, in his _Dedication_ to his
"Privileges of the University of Cambridge."

       *       *       *       *       *


A learned living oriental scholar, and a senior fellow of St. John's
College, Cambridge, who thinks less of journeying to Shiraz,
Timbuctoo, or the Holy Land, than a Cockney would of a trip to
Greenwich Fair or Bagnigge Wells, _kept_ in the same court, in
College, with a late tutor, now the amiable rector of Staple----t, in
Kent. It was their daily practice, when in residence, to take a ramble
together, by the footpaths, round by Granchester, and back to College
by Trumpington, or to Madingley, or the Hills, but more commonly the
former; all delightful in their way, and well known to gownsmen for
various associations. To one of these our College dons daily wended
their way cogitating, for they never talked, it is said, over the
_omnia magna_ of Cambridge life. Their invariable practice was to keep
moving at a stiff pace, some four or five yards in advance of each
other. Our amiable tutor went one forenoon to call on Mr. P. before
starting, as usual, and found his door _sported_. This staggered him a
little. Mr. P.'s bed-maker chanced to come up at the instant. "Where
is Mr. P.?" was his query. "Gone out, sir," was the reply. "Gone out!"
exclaimed Mr. H.; "Where to?" "To _Jerusalem_," she rejoined. And to
Jerusalem he was gone, sure enough; a circumstance of so little import
in his eyes, who had seen most parts of the ancient world already, and
filled the office of tutor to an Infanta of Spain, that he did not
think it matter worth the notice of his _College Chum_. Other
travellers, "_vox et ratio_," as Horace says, would have had the
circumstance bruited in every periodical in Christendom, "_quinque
sequuntur te pueri_."

       *       *       *       *       *


Is attributed to the celebrated Lord Chesterfield, when a student of
Trinity Hall, Cambridge, where he is said to have studied hard, and
rose daily, in the depth of winter, at four or five. He one day met a
drunken fellow in the streets of Cambridge, who refused him the wall,
observing, "I never give the wall to a rascal." "I do," retorted his
Lordship, moving out of the way. It was probably this incident that
gave rise to the couplet--

  "Base man to take the wall I ne'er permit."
  The scholar said, "I do;" and gave him it.

       *       *       *       *       *


    "Qui teneros CAULES alieni fregerit horti."--_Hor._

During the progress of a political meeting held in the town of
Cambridge, it so happened that the late Dr. Mansel, then Public Orator
of the University of Cambridge, but afterwards Master of Trinity
College and Bishop of Bristol, came to the place of meeting just as
Musgrave, the well known political tailor of his day, was in the midst
of a most _pathetic_ oration, and emphatically repeating, "Liberty,
liberty, gentlemen--" He paused,--"Liberty is _a plant_--" "So is a
_cabbage!_" exclaimed the caustic Mansel, before Musgrave had time to
complete his sentence, with so happy an allusion to the trade of the
tailor, that he was silenced amidst roars of laughter. Another
instance of--


But by an Oxonian, a learned member of Christ Church, is recorded in
the fact, that having, for near half a century, been accustomed to
walk with a favourite stick, the _ferule_ of which, at the bottom,
came off, he took it to his _tailor_ to have it repaired.

       *       *       *       *       *


The famous antiquary, Thomas Baker, B.D. of St. John's College,
Cambridge, of which he was long _Socius Ejectus_, lays it down as a
principle, in his admirable _Reflections on Learning_, "that if we had
_fewer_ books, we should have more learning." It is singular that he
never published but the one book named, though he has left behind him
forty-two volumes of manuscripts, the greater part in the Harleian
Collection, in the British Museum, principally relating to Cambridge,
and all neatly written in his own hand.

       *       *       *       *       *


When "honest Vere" Foster, as he is called by "mild William," his
contemporary at College, and the grandfather of our celebrated
traveller, Dr. Edward Daniel Clarke, was a student at Cambridge, where
he was celebrated for his wit and humour, and for being a good
scholar, St. John's being looked upon as a Tory college, a young
fellow, a student, reputed a Whig, was appointed to deliver an oration
in the College Hall, on the 5th of November. This he did; but having,
for some time, dwelt on the double deliverance of that day, in his
peroration, he passed from King William to King George, on whom he
bestowed great encomiums. When the speech was over, honest Vere and
the orator being at table together, the former addressed the latter
with, "I did not imagine, sir, that you would _decline_ King George in
your speech." "_Decline!_" said the astonished orator; "what do you
mean? I spoke very largely and handsomely of him." "That is what I
mean, too, sir," said Vere: "for you had him in every case and
termination: _Georgius--Georgii--Georgio--Georgium--O Georgi!_"

Another of "honest Vere's"


Is deserving a place in our treasury. He one day asked his learned
college contemporary, Dr. John Taylor, editor of Demosthenes, "why he
talked of selling his horse?" "Because," replied the doctor, "I cannot
afford to keep him in these _hard times_." "You should keep a _mare_,"
rejoined Foster, "according to Horace--

  'Æquam memento rebus in arduis

       *       *       *       *       *


Soon after that great, good, and loyal son of Granta, Dr. Isaac
Barrow, was made a prebend of Salisbury, says Dr. Pope, "I overheard
him say, '_I wish I had five hundred pounds_.' 'That's a large sum for
a philosopher,' observed Dr. Pope; 'what would you do with so much?'
'I would,' said he, 'give it to my sister for a portion, that would
procure her _a good husband_.' A few months after," adds his
memorialist, "he was made happy by receiving the above sum," which he
so much desired, "for putting a _new life_ into the _corps_ of his new

       *       *       *       *       *


Both Oxford and Cambridge have been famous for inveterate smokers.
Amongst them was the learned Dr. Isaac Barrow, who said "it helped his
thinking." His illustrious pupil, NEWTON, was scarcely less addicted
to the "Indian weed," and every body has heard of his _hapless
courtship_, when, in a moment of forgetfulness, he popped the lady's
finger into his burning pipe, instead of _popping the question_, and
was so chagrined, that he never could be persuaded to press the matter
further. Dr. Parr was allowed his pipe when he dined with the _first
gentleman in Europe_, George the Fourth, and when refused the same
indulgence by a lady at whose house he was staying, he told her, "she
was the greatest _tobacco-stopper_ he had ever met with." The
celebrated Dr. Farmer, of _black-letter_ memory, preferred the
comforts of the parlour of Emmanuel College, of which he was master,
and a "_yard of clay_" (there were no _hookahs_ in his day,) to a
bishopric, which dignity he twice refused, when offered to him by Mr.
Pitt. Another learned


And eke of wit, mirth, puns, and pleasantry, was the famous Dr.
Aldrich, Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, the never-to-be-forgotten
composer of the good old catch--

  "Hark, the merry Christ-Church bells,"

and of another to be _sung by four men smoking their pipes_, which is
not more difficult to sing than diverting to hear. His pipe was his
breakfast, dinner, and supper, and a student of Christ Church, at 10
o'clock one night, finding it difficult to persuade a "freshman" of
the fact, laid him


That the Dean was at that instant smoking. Away he hurried to the
deanery to decide the controversy, and on gaining admission,
apologised for his intrusion by relating the occasion of it. "Well,"
replied the Dean, in perfect good humour, with his pipe in his hand,
"you see you have lost your wager: for I am not smoking, but filling
my pipe."

       *       *       *       *       *


Bishop Watson says, in his valuable Chemical Essays, that Sir Isaac
Newton and Dr. Bentley met accidentally in London, and on Sir Isaac's
inquiring what philosophical _pursuits_ were carrying on at Cambridge,
the doctor replied, "None; for when you are a-hunting, Sir Isaac, you
kill all the game; you have left us nothing to pursue." "Not so," said
the philosopher, "you may start a variety of game in every bush, if
you will but take the trouble to beat it." "And so in truth it is,"
adds Dr. W.; "every object in nature affords occasion for
philosophical experiment."

       *       *       *       *       *


The Editor of the Literary Panorama, says Corneille Le Bruyer, the
famous Dutch painter, relates, that "happening one day to dine at the
table of Newton, with other foreigners, when the dessert was sent up,
Newton proposed, 'a health to the men of every country who believed in
a God;' which," says the editor, "was drinking the health of the whole
human race." Equal to this was


The celebrated naturalist and divine, who (when ejected from his
fellowship of Trinity College, Cambridge, for _non-conformity_, and,
for the same reason, being no longer at liberty to exercise his
clerical functions as a preacher of the Gospel,) turned to the pursuit
of the sciences of natural philosophy and botany for consolation.
"Because I could no longer serve God in the church," said this great
and good man (in his Preface to the Wisdom of God manifested in the
Works of the Creation,) "I thought myself more bound to do it by my

       *       *       *       *       *


Is a tradition of many ages' standing, but the origin of the
celebrated statue of his Satanic Majesty, which of erst overlooked
Lincoln College, Oxford, is not so certain as that the effigy was
popular, and gave rise to the saying. After outstanding centuries of
hot and cold, jibes and jeers, "_cum multis aliis_," to which _stone_,
as well as flesh, is heir, it was taken down on the 15th of November,
1731, says a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, having lost its head
in a storm about two years previously, at the same time the head was
blown off the statue of King Charles the First, which overlooked

       *       *       *       *       *


Tom Warton relates, in his somewhat rambling Life of Dr. Ralph
Bathurst, President of Trinity College, Oxford, that Dr. Radcliffe was
a student of Lincoln College when Dr. B. presided over Trinity; but
notwithstanding their difference of age and distance of situation, the
President used to visit the young student at Lincoln College "merely
for the smartness of his conversation." During one of these morning or
evening calls, Dr. B. observing the embryo physician had but few books
in his chambers, asked him "Where was his study?" upon which young
Radcliffe replied, pointing to a few books, a skeleton, and a herbal,
"This, Sir, is Radcliffe's library." Tom adds the following


When the Doctor was Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, a captain of a company,
who had fought bravely in the cause of his royal master, King Charles
the First, being recommended to him for the degree of D.C.L., the
doctor told the son of Mars he could not confer the degree, "but he
would apply to his majesty to give him a regiment of horse!"


An instrument of correction not entirely laid aside in our
universities in his time; but (says Tom) he _only_ "delighted to
_surprise_ scholars, when walking in the grove at unseasonable hours.
This he practised," adds Warton, "on account of the pleasure he took
in giving _so odd_ an alarm, rather than from any principle of
reproving, or intention of applying so illiberal a punishment." One
thing is certain, that in the statutes of Trinity College, Oxford (as
late as 1556,) scholars of the foundation are ordered to be


"Dr. Potter," says Aubery, while a tutor of the above college,
"_whipped his pupil with his sword by his side_, when he came to take
his leave of him to go to the Inns of Court." This was done to make
him a _smart_ fellow. "In Sir John Fane's collection of letters of the
Paston family, written _temp_. Henry VI.," says the author of the
_Gradus ad Catabrigiam_, "we find one of the GENTLE SEX prescribing
for her son, who was at Cambridge," no doubt with a maternal anxiety
that he should


as follows:--"Prey Grenefield to send me faithfully worde by wrytyn,
who (how) Clemit Paston hathe do his dever i' lernying, and if he hath
nought do well, nor will nought amend, prey hym that he wyll truely
BELASH hym _tyl_ he wyll amend, and so dyd the last mastyr, and the
best eu' he had at Cambridge." And that Master Grenefield might not
want due encouragement, she concludes with promising him "X m'rs," for
his _pains_. We do not, however, learn how many _marks_ young Master
Clemit received, who certainly took _more pains_.--PATIENDO _non
faciendo_--FERENDO _non feriendo_.

       *       *       *       *       *


over the buttery-hatch of Christ-College, Cambridge, and, as Dr.
Johnson insinuates in his Life, was the last Cambridge student so
castigated in either university. The officer who performed this
_fundamental_ operation was Dr. Thomas Bainbrigge, the master of
Christ's College. But as it was at a later date that Dr. Ralph
Bathurst carried his whip, according to our friend Tom's showing, to
_surprise_ the scholars, it is therefore going a great length to give
our "Prince of Poets" the _sole_ merit of being the last _smart_
fellow that issued from the halls of either Oxford or Cambridge,
handsome as he was.

The following celebrated


Printed, says the Oxford Sausage, "from the original MSS. preserved in
the ARCHIVES of the Jelly-bag Society," is somewhere said to have been
written by Dr. Ralph Bathurst, when an Oxford scholar:--

  One day in _Christ-church_ meadows walking,
  Of poetry and such things talking,
      Says _Ralph_, a merry wag,
  An EPIGRAM, if right and good,
  In all its circumstances should
         Be like a JELLY-BAG.

  Your simile, I own, is new,
  But how dost make it out? quoth Hugh.
       Quoth RALPH, I'll tell you, friend:
  Make it at top both wide and fit
  To hold a budget full of wit,
       And point it at the end.

       *       *       *       *       *


A party of Oxford scholars were one evening carousing at the Star Inn,
when a waggish student, a stranger to them, abruptly introduced
himself, and seeing he was not "one of us," they all began to _quiz_
him. This put him upon his mettle, and besides boasting of other
accomplishments, he told them, in plain terms, that he could write
Greek or Latin Verses better, and was, in short, an over-match for
them at any thing. Upon this, one of the party exclaimed, "You have
told us a great deal of what you can do, _tell us something you can't
do_?" "Well," he retorted, "I'll tell you what I can't do--_I can't
pay my reckoning!_" This sally won him a hearty welcome.

       *       *       *       *       *


About 1550, whilst the famous Richard Cox, Bishop of Ely, was Dean of
Christ-church, Oxford, says Cole, in his Athenæ Cant., "he brought his
wife into the college, who, with the wife of Peter Martyr, a canon of
the same cathedral, were observed to be the first women ever
introduced into a cloister or college, and, upon that account, gave no
small scandal at the time." This reminds me of an anecdote that used
to amuse the under-grads in my day at Cambridge. A certain D.D., head
of a college, a _bachelor_, and in his habits retired to a degree of
solitariness, in an unlucky moment gave a lady that did not want twice
bidding, not bill of exchange, but a _running_ invitation to the
college lodge, to be used at pleasure. She luckily seized the long
vacation for making her appearance, when there were but few students
in residence; but to the confusion of our D.D., her _ten_ daughters
came _en traine_, and the college was not a little scandalized by
their playing shuttlecock in the open court--the lady was in no haste
to go. Report says sundry hints were given in vain. She took his
original _invite_ in its literal sense, to "suit her own convenience."
The anxiety he endured threw our modest D.D. in to a sick-bed, and not
relishing the office of nurse to a bachelor of sixty years' standing,
she decamped, + her ten daughters.

       *       *       *       *       *


  In the days that are past, by the side of a stream,
    Where waters but softly were flowing,
  With ivy o'ergrown an old mansion-house stood,
  That was built on the skirts of a chilling damp wood,
    Where the yew-tree and cypress were growing.

  The villagers shook as they passed by the doors,
    When they rested at eve from their labours;
  And the traveller many a furlong went round,
  If his ears once admitted the terrific sound,
    Of the tale that was told by the neighbours.

  They said, "that the house in the skirts of the wood
    By a saucer-eyed ghost was infested,
  Who filled every heart with confusion and fright,
  By assuming strange shapes at the dead of the night,
    Shapes monstrous, and foul, and detested."

  And truly they said, and the monster well knew,
    That the ghost was the greatest of evils;
  For no sooner the bell of the mansion toll'd one,
  Than the frolicksome imp in a fury begun
    To caper like ten thousand devils.

  He appeared in forms the most strange and uncouth,
    Sure never was goblin so daring!
  He utter'd loud shrieks and most horrible cries,
  Curst his body and bones, and his _sweet little eyes_,
    Till his impudence grew beyond bearing.

  Just at this nick o' time, when the master's sad heart
    With anguish and sorrow was swelling,
  He heard that a scholar with science complete,
  Full of magical lore as an egg's full of meat,
    At _Cambridge_ had taken a dwelling.

  The scholar was versed in all magical arts,
    Most famous was he throughout _college_;
  To the Red Sea full oft many an unquiet ghost,
  To repose with King Pharaoh and his mighty host
    He had sent through his powerful knowledge.

  To this scholar so learn'd the master he went,
    And as lowly he bent with submission,
  Told the freaks of the horrible frights
  That prevented his household from resting at nights,
    And offered this humble petition:--

  "That he, the said scholar, in wisdom so wise,
    Would the mischievous fiend lay in fetters;
  Would send him in torments for ever to dwell,
  In the nethermost pit of the nethermost hell,
    For destroying the sleep of his betters."

  The scholar so versed in all magical lore,
    Told the master his pray'r should be granted;
  He ordered his horse to be saddled with speed,
  And perch'd on the back of his cream colour'd steed,
    Trotted off to the house that was haunted.

  "Bring me turnips and milk!" the scholar he cried,
    In voice like the echoing thunder:
  He brought him some turnips and suet beside,
  Some milk and a spoon, and his motions they eyed,
    Quite lost in conjecture and wonder.

  He took up the turnips, and peel'd off the skins,
    Put them into a pot that was boiling;
  Spread a table and cloth, and made ready to sup,
  Then call'd for a fork, and the turnips fished up
    In a hurry, for they were a-spoiling.

  He mash'd up the turnips with butter and milk:
    The hail at the casement 'gan clatter!
  Yet this scholar ne'er heeded the tempest without,
  But raising his eyes, and turning about,
    Asked the maid for a small wooden platter.

  He mash'd up the turnips with butter and salt,
    The storm came on thicker and faster--
  The lightnings went flash, and with terrific din
  The wind at each crevice and cranny came in,
    Tearing up by the root lath and plaster.

  He mash'd up the turnips with nutmegs and spice,
    The mess would have ravish'd a glutton;
  When lo! with sharp bones hardly covered with skin,
  The ghost from a nook o'er the window peep'd in,
    In the form of _a boil'd scrag of mutton_.

  "Ho! Ho!" said the ghost, "what art doing below?"
    The scholar peep'd up in a twinkling--
  "The times are too hard to afford any meat,
  So to render my turnips more pleasant to eat,
    A few grains of pepper I'm sprinkling."

  Then he caught up a fork, and the mutton he seiz'd,
    And soused it at once in the platter;
  Threw o'er it some salt and a spoonful of fat,
  And before the poor ghost could tell what he was at,
  He was gone like a mouse down the throat of a cat,
    And this is the whole of the matter.

       *       *       *       *       *


Doctor John Franklin, Fellow and Master of Sidney College, Cambridge,
1730, "a very fat, rosy-complexioned man," dying soon after he was
made Dean of Ely, and being succeeded by Dr. Ellis, "a meagre,
weasel-faced, swarthy, black man," the _Fenman_ of Ely, says (Cole) in
allusion thereto, out of vexation at being so soon called upon for
_recognition money_, made the following humorous distitch:--

  "The Devil took our Dean,
  And pick'd his bones clean;
  Then clapt him on a board,
  And sent him back again."

       *       *       *       *       *


  "Two of a trade can ne'er agree,
  No proverb e'er was juster;
  They've ta'en down Bishop Blaize, d'ye see,
  And put up Bishop Bluster."

                 _Dr. Mansel, on Bishop Watson's head becoming
                    a signboard, in Cambridge, in lieu of the
                    ancient one of Bishop Blaize._--FACETIÆ
                    CANT., _p._ 7.

Sir Isaac Pennington and Sir Busick Harwood were cotemporary at
Cambridge. The first as Regius Professor of Physic and Senior Fellow
of St. John's College, the other was Professor of Anatomy and Fellow
of Downing College. Both were eminent in their way, but seldom
_agreed_, and held each other's abilities pretty _cheap_, some say in
sovereign contempt. Sir Busick was once called in by the friends of a
patient that had been under Sir Isaac's care, but had obtained small
relief, anxious to hear his opinion of the malady. Not approving of
the treatment pursued, he inquired "who was the physician in
attendance," and on being told, exclaimed--"He! If he were to descend
into a patient's stomach with a _candle and lantern_, he would not
have been able to name the complaint!"


Was hit off, it is supposed, not by Dean Swift or wicked Will Whiston,
but by Bishop Mansel, as follows:--

           Sir Isaac,
           Sir Busick;
           Sir Busick,
           Sir Isaac;
  'Twould make you and I sick
  To taste their physick.

Another, perhaps the same Cambridge wag, penned the following
quaternion on Sir Isaac, which appeared under the title of


  When Pennington for female ills indites,
  Studying alone not what, but how he writes,
  The ladies, as his graceful form they scan,
  Cry, with ill-omen'd rapture, "_killing man_!"

But Sir Isaac, too, was a wit, and chanced on a time to be one of a
Cambridge party, amongst whom was a rich old fellow, an invalid, who
was too mean to buy an opinion on his case, and thought it a good
opportunity to _worm_ one out of Sir Isaac _gratis_. He accordingly
seized the opportunity for reciting the whole catalogue of his _ills_,
ending with, "what would you advise me to take, my dear Sir Isaac?" "I
should recommend you _to take advice_," was the reply.

       *       *       *       *       *


Whose very name conjures up the spirits of ten thousand wits, holding
both sides, over a copus of Trinity ale and a classical pun, would not
only frequently "steal a few hours from the night," but see out both
lights and liquids, and seem none the worse for the carouse. He had
one night risen for the purpose of reaching his hat from a peg to
depart, after having finished the port, sherry, gin-store, &c., when
he espied a can of _beer_, says Dyer, (surely it must have been
_audit_,) in a corner. Restoring his hat to its resting place, he
reseated himself with the following happy travestie of the old nursery

  "When wine is gone, and ale is spent,
  Then small beer is most excellent."

It was no uncommon thing for his _gyp_ to enter his room with
Phoebus, and find him still _en robe_, with no other companions but
a Homer, Æschylus, Plato, and a dozen or two other old Grecians
surrounding an empty bottle, or what his late Royal Highness the Duke
of York would have styled "a marine," _id est_ "a good fellow, who
had done his duty, and was ready to do it again." Upon his _gyp_ once
peeping in before day light, and finding him still up, Porson answered
his "_quod petis?_" (whether he wanted _candles_ or _liquor_,) with

  [Greek: ou tode oud' allo.]

Scotticè--neither _Toddy_ nor _Tallow_.

At another time, when asked what he would drink? he
replied?--"_aliquid_" (a liquid.)

He was once


That he could pun upon anything, when he was challenged to do so upon
the _Latin Gerunds_, and exclaimed, after a pause--

  "When Dido found Æneas would not come.
  She mourned in silence, and was _Di-do-dum(b)_."


The late amiable, learned, and pious Bishop Heber was not above a pun
in his day, notwithstanding Dr. Johnson's _anathema_, that a man who
made a pun would pick a pocket. Among the _jeux des mots_ attributed
to him are the following: he was one day dining with an Oxford party,
comprises the élite of his day, and when the servant was in the act
of removing the table-cloth from off the green table-covering, at the
end of their meal, he exclaimed, in the words of Horace--

  "Diffugere nives: redeunt jam gramina campis."

At another time he made one of a party of Oxonians, amongst whom was a
gentleman of great rotundity of person, on which account he had
acquired the _soubriquet_ of 'heavy-a--se;' and he was withal of very
_somniferous_ habits, frequently dozing in the midst of a conversation
that would have made the very glasses tingle with delight. He had
fallen fast asleep during the time a mirth-moving subject was recited
by one of the party, but woke up just at the close, when all save
himself were "shaking fat sides," and on his begging to know the
subject of their laughter, HEBER let fly at him in pure Horatian--

  "Exsomnis stupet Evias."

The mirth-loving Dr. Barnard, late Provost of Eton, was cotemporary,
at Cambridge, with


Who, then a student of St. John's College, used to frequent the same
parties that Barnard did, who was of King's. Barnard used to taunt him
with his stupidity; "and," said Judge Hardinge, who records the
anecdote, "he one day half killed Barnard with laughter, who had been
taunting him, as usual, with the simplicity of the following excuse
and remonstrance: You are always running your rigs upon me and
calling me 'stupid fellow;' and it is very cruel, now, that's what it
is; for you don't consider that _a broad-wheeled wagon went over my
head when I was ten years old_." And here I must remark upon the
injustice of persons reflecting upon the English Universities, as
their enemies often do, because every man who succeeds in getting a
degree does not turn out a _Porson_ or a _Newton_. I knew one Cantab,
a Caius man, to whom writing a letter to his friends was such an
effort, that he used to get his medical attendant to give him an
_ægrotat_ (put him on the sick list,) and, besides,


till the momentous task was accomplished. And two Oxonians were of


Because one being asked, "Who was the _Mediator_, between God and
man?" answered, "_The Archbishop of Canterbury_." The other being
questioned as to "why our Saviour sat on the right hand of God?"
replied, "_Because the Holy Ghost sat on the left_."


"The men of Exeter College, Oxon," says Fuller, in his Church History,
"consisted chiefly of Cornish and Devonshire men, the gentry of which
latter, Queen Elizabeth used to say, are courtiers by birth. And as
these western men do bear away the bell for might and sleight in
wrestling, so the scholars here have always acquitted themselves with
credit in _Palæstra literaria_."

And writing of this society reminds me that


Is a living example of the fact, that it does not require great
learning to make a great general; nor is great learning always
necessary to complete the character of the head of a college. The late
Rector of Exeter College, Dr. Cole, raised that society, by his
prudent management, from the very _reduced_ rank in which he found it
amongst the other foundations of Oxford, to a flourishing and high
reputation for good scholarship. Yet he is said one day to have
complimented a student at collections, by saying, after the gentleman
had construed his portion of Sophocles, "Sir, you have construed your
_Livy_ very well." He nevertheless redeemed his credit by one day
_posing_ a student, during his divinity examination, with asking him,
in vain, "_What Christmas day was?_" Another Don of the same college,
once asking a student of the society some divinity question, which he
was equally at a loss for an answer, he exclaimed--"Good God, sir,
you the son of a clergyman, and not answer such a question as that?"
Aristotle was of opinion that knowledge _could only be acquired_, but
our tutor seems to have thought, like the opponents of Aristotle, that
a _son of a parson_ ought to be _born to it_.


Whom I knew, yet was by no means deficient in scholastic learning, and
withal a great wag. He was asked, at the divinity examination, how
many sacraments there were. This happened at the time that the
_Catholic question_ was in the high road to the House of Lords, under
the auspices of the Duke of Wellington, and he had been _cramming_ his
_upper story_ with abundance of _Catholic Faith_ from the writings of
_Faber_, _Gandolphy_, and the _Bishops of Durham and Exeter_. "How
many sacraments are there, sir?" repeated the Examiner (of course
referring to the Church of England.) The student _paused on_, and the
question was repeated a second time; "Why--a--suppose--we--a--say half
a dozen," was the reply. It is needless to add he was _plucked_. The


Is attributed to a certain D.D. of Exeter, who, having undertaken to
lionize one of the foreign princes of the many that accompanied the
late king and the sovereigns of Russia and Prussia to Oxford, in 1814,
a difficulty arose between them as to their medium of communication;
the prince being ignorant of the English language, and the doctor no
less so with respect to modern foreign languages. In this dilemma the
latter proposed an interchange of ideas by means of the fingers, in
the following unique address:--"Intelligisne colloquium _cum
digitalibus tuis?_"

It would be somewhat awkward for certain alumni if his Grace of
Wellington should issue an imperative decree, as Chancellor,


(As Wood says, in his annals, the famous Archbishop Bancroft did, on
being raised to the dignity of Chancellor of Oxford in 1608,) "By the
students in their halls and colleges, whereby," said his Grace, "the
young as well as the old may be inured to a ready and familiar
delivery of their minds in that language, whereof there was now so
much use both in studies and common conversation; for it was now
observed (and so it may in these present times, adds Wood,) that it
was a great blemish to the learned men of this nation, that they being
complete in all good knowledge, yet they were not able promptly and
aptly to express themselves in Latin, but with hesitation and
circumlocution, which ariseth only from disuse."


Dr. Fothergill, when Provost of Queen's College, Oxford, was a
singular as well as a learned man, and would not have been seen abroad
minus his wig and gown for a dukedom. One night a fire broke out in
the lodge, which spread with such rapidity, that it was with
difficulty Mrs. F. and family escaped the fury of the flames; and this
she no sooner did than, naturally enough, the question was, "Where is
the Doctor?" No Doctor was to be found; and the cry was he had
probably perished in the flames. All was bustle, and consternation,
and tears, till suddenly, to the delight of all, he emerged from the
burning pile, full-dressed, as usual, his wig something the worse for
being nearly 'done to a turn;' but he deemed it indecorous for him to
appear otherwise, though he stayed to _robe_ at the risk of his life.

       *       *       *       *       *


The living Cambridge worthy, William Sydney Walker, M.A. (who at the
age of sixteen wrote the successful tragedy of Wallace, and recently
vacated his fellowship at Trinity College "for conscience-sake,")
walking hastily round the corner of a street in Cambridge, in his
peculiarly near-sighted _sidling_ hasty manner, he suddenly came in
contact with the _blind_ muffin-man who daily perambulates the town.
The concussion threw both upon their haunches. "Don't you _see_ I'm
blind?" exclaimed the muffin-man, in great wrath. "How should I,"
rejoined the learned wag, "when I'm blind too."

       *       *       *       *       *


Upon the death of a provost of King's College, Cambridge, the fellows
are obliged, according to their statutes, to be shut up in their
celebrated chapel till they have agreed upon the election of a
successor, a custom not unlike that to which the cardinals are subject
at Rome, upon the death of a pope, where not uncommonly some half
dozen are brought out dead before an election takes place. "The
following is a comic picture of an election," says Judge Hardinge, in
Nichols's Illustrations of Literature, from the pen of Daniel Wray,
Esq. dated from _Cambridge_, the 19th of January, 1743. "The election
of a provost of King's is over--_Dr. George_ is the man. The fellows
went into chapel on Monday, before noon in the morning, as the statute
directs. After prayers and sacrament, they began to vote:--22 for
_George_; 16 for _Thackery_; 10 for _Chapman_. Thus they continued,
scrutinizing and walking about, eating and sleeping; some of them
smoking. Still the same numbers for each candidate, till yesterday
about noon (for they held that in the forty-eight hours allowed for
the election no adjournment could be made,) when the Tories,
_Chapman's_ friends, refusing absolutely to concur with either of the
other parties, _Thackery's_ votes went over to _George_ by agreement,
and he was declared. A friend of mine, a curious fellow, tells me he
took a survey of his brothers at two o'clock in the morning, and that
never was a more curious or a more diverting spectacle: some wrapped
in blankets, erect in their stalls like mummies; others asleep on
cushions, like so many _Gothic_ tombs. Here a red cap over a wig,
there a face lost in the cape of a rug; one blowing a chafing-dish
with a surplice-sleeve; another warming a little negus, or sipping
_Coke upon Littleton_, _i. e._ tent and brandy. Thus did they combat
the cold of that frosty night, which has not killed any one of them,
to my infinite surprise." One of the fellows of King's engaged in this
election was Mr. C. Pratt, afterwards Lord High Chancellor of England,
and father of the present Marquis of Camden, who, writing to his
amiable and learned friend and brother Etonian and Kingsman, Dr. Sneyd
Davies, archdeacon of Derby, &c. in the January of the above year,
says, "Dear Sneyd we are all busy in the choice of a provost. _George_
and _Thackery_ are the candidates. _George_ has all the power and
weight of the Court interest, but I am for _Thackery_, so that I am at
_present a patriot_, and vehemently declaim against all unstatutable
influence. The College are so divided, that your friends the _Tories_
may turn the balance if they will; but, if they should either absent
themselves or nominate a third man, _Chapman_, for example, _Thackery_
will be discomfited. Why are not _you_ a doctor? We could choose you
against all opposition. However, I insist upon it, that you shall
qualify yourself against the next vacancy, for since you will not come
to _London_, and wear lawn sleeves, you may stay where you are, and be
provost,"--which he did not live to be, though he did take his D.D.

       *       *       *       *       *


A writer in an early volume of the Gentleman's Magazine has stated,
that "the Christian name is never used in the university with the
addition of _Sir_, but the surname only." Cole says, in reply, "This
is certainly so at Cambridge. Yet when Bachelors of Arts get into the
country, it is quite the reverse; for then, whether curates,
chaplains, vicars, or rectors, they are constantly styled _Sir_, or
_Dominus_, prefixed to both their names, to distinguish them from
Masters of Arts, or _Magistri_. This may be seen," he says, "in
innumerable instances in the lists of incumbents in New Court, &c."
And, he adds, addressing himself to that illustrious character,
_Sylvanus Urban_, "I could produce a thousand others from the wills,
institutions, &c. in the diocese of Ely, throughout the whole reign of
Henry VIII. and for many years after, till the title was abandoned,
and are never called Sir Evans, or Sir Martext, as in the university
they would be, according to your correspondent's opinion, but
invariably Sir Hugh Evans and Sir Oliver Martext, &c. The subject,"
adds this pleasant chronicler, "'seria ludo,' puts me in mind of a
very pleasant story, much talked of when I was first admitted of the
university, which I know to be fact, as I since heard Mr. Greene, the
dean of Salisbury, mention it. The dean was at that time only Bachelor
of Arts, and Fellow of Bene't College, where Bishop Mawson was master,
and then, I think, Bishop of Llandaff, who, being one day at Court,
seeing Mr. Greene come into the drawing-room, immediately accosted
him, pretty loud, in this manner, _How do you do, Sir Greene? When did
you leave College, Sir Greene?_ Mr. Greene was quite astonished, and
the company present much more so, as not comprehending the meaning of
the salutation or title, till Mr. Greene explained it, and also
informed them," observes Cole, with his accustomed fulness of
information, "of the worthy good bishop's absences."

       *       *       *       *       *


Fuller relates in his Abel Redivivus, that the celebrated President of
Corpus Christi College, Oxford, Dr. John Rainolds, the contemporary of
Jewel and Usher, had a controversy with one William Gager, a student
of Christ-Church, who contended for the lawfulness of stage-plays; and
the same Gager, he adds, maintained, _horresco referens!_ in a public
act in the university, that "it was lawful for husbands to beat their

       *       *       *       *       *


Is contained in Antony Wood's "angry account" of the alterations made
in Merton College, of which he was a fellow, during the wardenship of
Sir Thomas Clayton, whose lady, says Wood, "did put the college to
unnecessary charges and very frivolous expenses, among which were a
very large looking-glass, for her to see her ugly face, and body to
the middle, * * * * * which was brought in Hilary terme, 1674, and
cost, as the bursar told me, above 10_£._; a bedstead and bedding,
worth 40_£._, must also be bought, because the former bedstead and
bedding was too short for him (he being a tall man,) so perhaps when a
_short_ warden comes, a short bed must be bought." There were also


When the Vandals of Parliamentary visiters, in Cromwell's time,
perpetrated their spoliations at Oxford, one of them, Sir Nathaniel
Brent, says Wood, actually "took down the rich hangings at the altar
of the chapel, and ornamented his bedchamber with them."

       *       *       *       *       *


The late vice-master of Trinity College, Cambridge, the Rev. William
Hodson, B.D., and the late Regius Professor of Hebrew, the Rev.
William Collier, B.D., who had also been tutor of Trinity College,
were both skilled in the science of music, and constant visiters at
the quartett parties of Mr. Sharp, of Green Street, Cambridge,
organist of St. John's College. The former happened one evening to
enter Mr. Sharp's _sanctum sanctorum_, rather later than usual, and
found the two latter just in the act of discussing a brace of roast
ducks, with a bowl of punch in the background. He was pressed to join
them. "No, no, gentlemen," was his reply, "give me a _glass of water
and a crust_. You know not what you are doing. You are _digging your
graves with your teeth_." Both gentlemen, however, out-lived him.

       *       *       *       *       *


The late master of Clare Hall, Cambridge, Dr. Torkington, was one
evening stopped by a footpad or pads, in the neighbourhood of
Cambridge, when riding at an humble pace on his old Rosinante, which
had borne him through many a long year. Both horse and master were
startled by the awful tones in which the words, "Stand, and deliver!"
were uttered, to say nothing of the flourish of a shillelah, or
something worse, and an unsuccessful attempt to _grab_ the rein. The
horse, declining acquiescence, set off at a good round pace, and thus
saved his master; an act for which the old doctor was so grateful,
that he never suffered it to be rode again, but had it placed in a
paddock, facing his lodge, on the banks of the Cam, where, with a
plentiful supply of food, and his own daily attentions, it lingered
out the remnant of life, and "liv'd at home at ease."

       *       *       *       *       *


At the time the celebrated Archbishop Sharp was at Oxford, it was the
custom in that University, as likewise in Cambridge, for students to
have a _chum_ or companion, who not only shared the sitting-room with
each other, but the bed also; and a writer, speaking of the University
of Cambridge, says, one of the colleges was at one period so full,
that when writing a letter, the students were obliged to hold their
hand over it, to prevent its contents being seen. Archbishop Sharp,
when an Oxford Scholar, was awoke in the night by his _chum_ lying by
his side, who told him he had just dreamed a most extraordinary dream;
which was, that he (Sharp) would be an Archbishop of York. After some
time, he again awoke him, and said he had dreamt the same, and was
well assured he would arrive at that dignity. Sharp, extremely angry
at being thus disturbed, told him if he awoke him any more, he would
send him out of bed. However, his chum, again dreaming the same,
ventured to awake him; on which Sharp became much enraged; but his
bed-fellow telling him, if he had again the same dream he would not
annoy him any more, if he would faithfully promise him, should he ever
become archbishop, to give him a good rectory, which he named. "Well,
well," said Sharp, "you silly fellow, go to sleep; and if your dream,
which is very unlikely, should come true, I promise you the living."
"By that time," said his chum, "you will have forgot me and your
promise." "No, no," says Sharp, "that I shall not; but, if I do not
remember you, and refuse you the living, then say _John Sharp is a
rogue_." After Dr. Sharp had been archbishop some time, his old friend
(his chum) applied to him (on the said rectory being vacant,) and,
after much difficulty, got admitted to his presence, having been
informed by the servant, that the archbishop was particularly engaged
with a gentleman relative to the same rectory for which he was going
to apply. The archbishop was told there was a clergyman who was
extremely importunate to see him, and would take no denial. His Grace,
extremely angry, ordered him to be admitted, and requested to know why
he had so rudely almost forced himself into his presence. "I come,"
says he, "my Lord, to claim an old promise, the rectory of ----." "I
do not remember, sir, ever to have seen you before; how, then, could I
have promised you the rectory, which I have just presented to this
gentleman?" "Then," says his old chum, "_John Sharp is a rogue_!" The
circumstance was instantly roused in the mind of the archbishop, and
the result was, he provided liberally for his dreaming chum in the

       *       *       *       *       *


"In the year 1821," says Parke, in his Musical Memoirs, "I
occasionally dined with a pupil of mine, Mr. Knight, who had lately
left college. This young man (who played the most difficult pieces on
the flute admirably) and his brother Cantabs, when they met, were very
fond of relating the wild tricks for which the students of the
University of Cambridge are celebrated. The following relation of one
will convey some idea," he says, "of their general eccentricity:--A
farmer, who resided at a considerable distance from Cambridge, but who
had, nevertheless, heard of the excesses committed by the students,
having particular business in the before-mentioned seat of the Muses,
together with a strong aversion to entering it, took his seat on the
roof of the coach, and, being engrossed with an idea of danger, said
to the coachman, who was a man of few words, 'I'ze been towld that the
young gentlemen at Cambridge be wild chaps.' 'You'll see,' replied the
coachman; 'and,' added the farmer, 'that it be hardly safe to be among
'em.' 'You'll see,' again replied the coachman. During the journey the
farmer put several other interrogatories to the coachman, which was
answered, as before, with 'You'll see!' When they had arrived in the
High Street of Cambridge, Mr. Knight had a party of young men at his
lodgings, who were sitting in the first floor, with the windows all
open, and a large China bowl full of punch before them, which they had
just broached. The noise made by their singing and laughing,
attracting the notice and exciting the fears of the farmer, he again,
addressing his taciturn friend, the coachman, (whilst passing close
under the window,) said with great anxiety, 'Are we all safe, think
ye?' when, before the master of the whip had time to utter his
favourite monosyllables, 'You'll see,' bang came down, on the top of
the coach, bowl, punch, glasses, &c. to the amazement and terror of
the farmer, who was steeped in his own favourite potation. 'There,'
said coachee (who had escaped a wetting,) 'I said as how you'd see!'"

       *       *       *       *       *


When Gray produced his famous Ode for the installation of his patron,
the late Duke of Grafton, a production, it is observed, which would
have been more admired, had it "not been surpassed by his two
masterpieces, the Bard, and the Progress of Poetry," being possessed
of a very accurate taste for music, which he had formed on the
Italian model, he weighed every note of the composer's music, (the
learned Cambridge professor, Dr. Randall,) with the most critical
exactness, and kept the composer in attendance upon him, says Dyer, in
his Supplement, for three months. Gray was, indeed, a thorough
disciple of the Italian school of music, whilst the professor was an
ardent admirer of the sublime compositions of Handel, whose _noise_,
it is stated, Gray could not bear; but after the professor had
implicitly followed his views till he came to the chorus, Gray
exclaimed, "I have now done, and leave you to make as much noise as
you please." This fine composition is still in MS. in the hands of the
Doctor's son, Mr. Edward Randall, of the town of Cambridge.

       *       *       *       *       *


Gray was not the only modern poet of deserved celebrity, which
Peter-House had the honour to foster in her cloisters. A late Fellow
of that Society, named _Kendal_, "a person of a wild and deranged
state of mind," says Dyer, but, it must be confessed, with much method
in his madness, during his residence in Cambridge, "occasionally
poured out, extemporaneously, the most beautiful effusions," but the
paucity of the number preserved have almost left him without a name,
though meriting a niche in Fame's temple. I therefore venture to
repeat the following, with his name, that his genius may live with

  The town have found out different ways,
    To praise its different Lears:
  To Barry it gives loud huzzas,
    To Garrick only tears.

He afterwards added this exquisite effusion:--

  A king,--aye, every inch a king,--
    Such Barry doth appear;
  But Garrick's quite another thing,
    He's every inch King Lear.

       *       *       *       *       *


An ancient cup of silver gilt is preserved by this society, which was
given to them by the noble foundress of their college, Lady Mary de
St. Paul, daughter of Guy de Castillon, Earl of St. Paul, in France,
and widow of Audomar de Valentia, Earl of Pembroke, who is said to
have been killed in a tournament, held in France, in 1323, in honour
of their wedding day,--an accident, says Fuller, by which she was "a
maid, a wife, and a widow, in one day." Lysons in his second volume,
has given an engraved delineation of this venerable goblet; the foot
of which, says Cole, in the forty-second volume of his MSS. "stands on
a large circle, whose upper rim is neatly ornamented with small
_fleurs de lis_, in open work, and looks very like an ancient
coronet." On a large rim, about the middle of the cup, is a very
ancient embossed inscription; which, says the same authority, in 1773,
"not a soul in the College could read, and the tradition of it was
forgotten;" but he supposes it to run:--

  _Sayn Denis' yt es me dere for his lof drenk and mak gud cher._

The other inscription is short, and has an M. and V. above the circle;
"which," adds Cole, "I take to mean, _God help at need Mary de
Valentia_." At the bottom of the inside of the cup is an embossed
letter M. This he does not comprehend; but says it may possibly stand
for _Mementote_. "Dining in Pembroke College Hall, New Year's Day,
1773," he adds, "the grace cup of silver gilt, the founder's gift to
her college, was produced at the close of dinner, when, being full of
sweet wine, the old custom is here, as in most other colleges, for the
Master, at the head of the long table, to rise, and, standing on his
feet, to drink, _In piam memoriam_ (_Fundatricis_,) to his neighbour
on his right hand, and, who is also to be standing. When the Master
has drunk, he delivers the cup to him he drank to, and sits down; and
the other, having the cup, drinks to his opposite neighbour, who
stands up while the other is drinking; and thus alternately till it
has gone quite through the company, two always standing at a time. It
is of no large capacity, and is often replenished."

This is not unlike


of the Mertonians, as they call it (says Mr. Pointer,) from a
barbarous Latin word derived from _Tertius_, because there are always
three standing at a time. The custom, he says, is a loyal one, and
arises from their drinking the King and Queen's health standing (at
dinner) on some extraordinary days (called Gaudies, from the Latin
word _Gaudeo_, to rejoice,) to show their loyalty. There are always
three standing at a time the first not sitting down again till the
second has drank to a third man. The same loyal custom, under
different forms, prevails in all colleges in both Universities. At
the Inns of Court, also, in London, the King's health is drunk every
term, on what is called _Grand Day_, all members present, big-wig
and student, having filled "a bumper of sparkling wine," rise
simultaneously, and drink "The King," _supernaculum_, of course.

       *       *       *       *       *


Than the foregoing is in the possession of the Society of Jesus
College, Oxford, says Chalmers, the gift of the hospitable Sir Watkins
Williams Wynne, grandfather to the present baronet. It will contain
ten gallons, and weighs 278 ounces: how or when it is used, this
deponent sayeth not. Queen's College, Oxon, says Mr. Pointer, has


So called because it never fails to afford _funnery_. It is kept in
the buttery, is occasionally presented to persons to drink out of and
is so contrived, that by lifting it up to the mouth too hastily, the
air gets in and suddenly forces too great a quantity of the liquid, as
if thrown into the drinker's face, to his great surprise and the
delight of the standers by. _Multa cadunt inter calicem supremaque


Was the famous chalice, found in one of the hands of the founder of
Merton College, Oxford, the celebrated Walter de Merton, Bishop of
Rochester and Chancellor of England, upon the opening of his grave in
1659, says Wood, on the authority of Mr. Leonard Yate, Fellow of
Merton. It held more than a quarter of a pint; and the Warden and
Fellows caused it to be sent to the College, to be put into their
_cista jocalium_; but the Fellows, in their zeal, sometimes drinking
out of it, "this, then, so valued relic was broken and destroyed."

       *       *       *       *       *


In Merton College, says Pointer, in his _Oxoniensis Academia_, &c. "is
their meeting together in the Hall on Christmas Eve, and other solemn
times, to sing a Psalm, and drink a _Grace Cup_ to one another,
(called _Poculum Charitatis_) wishing one another health and
happiness. These _Grace Cups_," he adds, "they drink to one another
every day after dinner and supper, wishing one another peace and good
neighbourhood." This conclusion reminds us of the following

A learned Cambridge mathematician, now holding a distinguished post at
the Naval College, Portsmouth, after discussing one day, with a party
of Johnians, the propriety of the _Dies Festæ_, _solar_, _siderial_,
&c., drily observed, putting a bumper to his lips, "I think we should
have _jovial days_ as well." Every College in both Universities has
the next best thing to it,--


"_In piam memoriam_" of their several founders, most of whom being
persons of _taste_, left certain annual sums wherewith to "pay the
piper." Besides _minor_ feast-days, every Society, both at Oxford and
Cambridge, hold its yearly commemoration. There is always prayers and
a sermon on this day, and the Lesson is taken from Eccl. xliv. "Let
us now praise famous men," &c. Mr. Pointer says, that at Magdalen
College, Oxford, it is "a custom on all commemoration days to have the
bells rung in a confused manner, and without any order, it being the
primitive way of ringing." The same writer states that there is


Annually celebrated by this Society, which consists of a concert of
music on the top of the Tower, in honour of its founder, Henry VII. It
was originally a mass, but since the Reformation, it has been "a merry
concert of both vocal and instrumental music, consisting of several
merry ketches, and lasts almost two hours (beginning as early as four
o'clock in the morning,) and is concluded with ringing the bells."
The performers have a breakfast for their pains. They have likewise
singing early on Christmas morning. The custom is similar to one
observed at Manheim, in Germany, and throughout the palatinate.

Whoever was the author of the following admirable production, he was
certainly not [Greek: nous]-less, and it will "hardly be read with
_dry lips_, or _mouths_ that do not water," says the author of the
_Gradus ad Cant_.



  Hark! heard ye not yon footsteps dread,
  That shook the hall with thund'ring tread?
        With eager haste
        The Fellows pass'd,
      Each, intent on direful work,
  High lifts his mighty blade, and points his deadly fork.


  But, hark! the portals sound, and pacing forth,
    With steps, alas! too slow,
  The College GYPTS, of high illustrious worth,
    With all the dishes, in long order go.
      In the midst a form divine,
      Appears the fam'd sir-loin;
    And soon, with plums and glory crown'd
    Almighty pudding sheds its sweets around.
  Heard ye the din of dinner bray?
      Knife to fork, and fork to knife,
      Unnumber'd heroes, in the glorious strife,
  Through fish, flesh, pies, and puddings, cut their destin'd way.


        See beneath the mighty blade,
          Gor'd with many a ghastly wound,
        Low the famed sir-loin is laid,
          And sinks in many a gulf profound.
            Arise, arise, ye sons of glory,
            Pies and puddings stand before ye;
          See the ghost of hungry bellies,
          Points at yonder stand of jellies;
          While such dainties are beside ye,
          Snatch the goods the gods provide ye;
          Mighty rulers of this state,
          Snatch before it is too late;
  For, swift as thought, the puddings, jellies, pies,
  Contract their giant bulks, and shrink to pigmy size.


        From the table now retreating,
          All around the fire they meet,
        And, with wine, the sons of eating,
          Crown at length the mighty treat:
        Triumphant plenty's rosy traces
        Sparkle in their jolly faces;
        And mirth and cheerfulness are seen
        In each countenance serene.
          Fill high the sparkling glass,
            And drink the accustomed toast;
            Drink deep, ye mighty host,
          And let the bottle pass.
        Begin, begin the jovial strain;
          Fill, fill the mystic bowl;
        And drink, and drink, and drink again;
          For drinking fires the soul.
          But soon, too soon, with one accord they reel;
          Each on his seat begins to nod;
        All conquering BACCHUS' pow'r they feel,
          And pour libations to the jolly god.
  At length, with dinner, and with wine oppress'd,
  Down in their chairs they sink, and give themselves to rest.

       *       *       *       *       *


Sir Robert Walpole, the celebrated minister, was bred at Eton and
King's College, Cambridge. At the first he raised great expectations
as a boy, and when the master was told that St. John, afterwards Lord
Bolingbroke, had with others, his scholars, distinguished themselves
for their eloquence, in the House of Commons, "I am impatient to hear
that Walpole has spoken," was his observation; "for I feel convinced
he will be a good orator." At King's College his career was near being
cut short by an attack of the small-pox. He was then known as a fierce
_Whig_, and his physicians were _Tories_, one of whom, Dr. Brady,
said, "We must take care to save this young man, or we shall be
accused of having purposely neglected him, because he is so violent a
Whig." After he was restored, his spirit and disposition so pleased
the same physician, that he added, "this singular escape seems to be a
sure prediction that he is reserved for important purposes," which
Walpole remembered with complacency.

       *       *       *       *       *

Dr. Lamb, the present master of Corpus Christi, Cambridge, in his
edition of Master's History of that College, gives the following copy
of a bill, in the handwriting of Dr. John Jegon, a former master,
which may be taken as a specimen of



  "Imprimis, Butter and eggs                               xii_d._
  "Linge                                                   xii_d._
  "Rootes buttered                                          ii_d._
  "A leg of mutton                                         xii_d._
  "A Poulte                                                iii_d._
  "A Pike                                                xviii_d._
  "Buttered Maydes                                        iiii_d._
  "Soles                                                   xii_d._
  "Hartichockes                                             vi_d._
  "Roast [b]eef                                           viii_d._
  "Shrimps                                                  vi_d._
  "Perches                                                  vi_d._
  "Skaite                                                   vi_d._
  "Custards                                                xii_d._
  "Wine and Sugar                                           xx_d._
  "Condiments, vinegar, pepper                             iii_d._
  "Money to the visitors                           vi_s._ viii_d._
  "Money to scholars and officers, cooks,
    butler, register, Trinitiehall school        iiii_s._ viii_d._
  "Item, Exceedings of the schollers                        xx_d._
                                      Summa,      xxiiii_s._ x_d._
                                                           "J. JEGON."

The same authority gives the following curious item as occurring in
1620, during the mastership of the successor of Dr. Jegon, Dr. Samuel
Walsall, who was elected in 1618, under the head of


                                                      _l._ _s._ _d._
  "Imp. Tuesday night, a Pottle of Claret and a qt.
          of Sacke                                     0    2    6
  "It. Wednesday, Jan. 31, a pound of sugar and a
          pound of carriways                           0    2   11
  "It. Three ounces of Tobacco                         0    4    6
  "It. Halfe an hundred apples and thirtie             0    1    6
  "It. A pottle of claret and a quart of sacke,
          Wednesday dinner                             0    2    6
  "It. Two dousen of tobacco pipes                     0    0    6
  "It. Thursday dinner, two pottles of sacke and
          three pottles and a quart of claret          0    9    4
  "It. Thursday supp. a pottle of sacke and three
          pottles of claret                            0    6    4
  "It. Satterday diner, a pottle of claret and a quart 0    2    0
                                      "Sum. tot.  _l._ 1   14    7

"Hence it appears," observes Dr. L., "sack was 1_s._ 2_d._ a quart,
claret 8_d._, and tobacco 1_s._ 6_d._ an ounce. That is, an ounce of
tobacco was worth exactly four pints and a half of claret." Oxford,
more than Cambridge, observed, and still observes, many singular
customs. Amongst others recorded in Mr. Pointer's curious book, is
the now obsolete and very ancient one at Merton College, called


Formerly the Dean of the college kept the Bachelor-fellows at
disputations in the hall, sometimes till late at night, and then to
give, them a black-night (as they called it;) the reason of which
was this:--"Among many other famous scholars of this college, there
were two great logicians, the one _Johannes Duns Scotus_, called
_Doctor Subtilis,_ Fellow of the college, and father of the sect of
the Realists, and his scholar _Gulielmus Occam,_ called _Doctor
Invincibilis,_ of the same house, and father of the sect of the
Nomenalists; betwixt whom there falling out a hot dispute one
disputation night, _Scotus_ being the Dean of the college, and _Occam_
(a Bachelor-fellow therein,) though the latter got the better on't,
yet being but an inferior, at parting submitted himself, with the rest
of the Bachelors, to the Dean in this form, _Domine, quid faciernus?_
(_i. e._ Sir, what is your pleasure?) as it were begging punishment
for their boldness in arguing; to whom _Scotus_ returned this answer,
_Ite et facite quid vultis_ (_i. e._ Begone, and do as you please.)
Hereupon away they went and broke open the buttery and kitchen doors,
and plundered all the provisions they could lay hands on; called all
their companions out of their beds, and made a merry bout on't all
night. This gave occasion for observing the same diversion several
times afterwards, whenever the Dean kept the Bachelor-fellows at
disputation till twelve o'clock at night. The last black-night was
about 1686."

       *       *       *       *       *


A learned Cantab, who was so _deaf_ as to be obliged to use an _ear
trumpet,_ having taken his departure from Trinity College, of which he
was lately a fellow, mounted on his well-fed Rosinante for the purpose
of visiting a friend, fell in with an acquaintance by the way side,
with whom he was induced to dine, and evening was setting in ere he
pushed forward for his original destination. Warm with T. B., he had
not gone far ere he let fall the reins on the neck of his pegasus,
which took its own course till he was suddenly roused by its coming to
a stand-still where four cross roads met, in a part of the country to
which he was an utter stranger. What added to the dilemma, the
_direction-post_ had been demolished. He luckily espied an old farmer
jogging homeward from market. "Hallo! my man, can you tell me the way
to ----?" "Yes, to be sure I can. You must go down _hin-hinder_ lane,
and cross _yin-yinder_ common on the left, then you'll see a _hol_ and
a _pightal_ and the old mills, and ----" "Stop, stop, my good friend!"
exclaimed our Cantab; "you don't know I'm _deaf_," pulling his
_ear-trumpet_ out of his pocket as he spoke: this the farmer no sooner
got a glimpse of, than, taking it for a pistol or blunderbuss, and its
owner for a highwayman, he clapped spurs to his horse, and galloped
off at full speed, roaring out for mercy as our Cantab bawled for him
to stop, the _muzzle_ of his horse nosing the tail of the farmer's,
till they came to an opening in a wood by the road side, through which
the latter vanished, leaving the Cantab _solus_, after a chase of some
miles,--and upon inquiry at a cottage, he learnt he was still ten or
twelve from the place of his destination, little short of the original
distance he had to ride when he first started from Cambridge in the
morning. This anecdote reminds me of two Oxonians of considerable
celebrity, learning, and singular manners. One was the late amiable
organist of Dulwich College the Rev. Onias Linley, son of Mr. Linley,
of Drury-lane and musical celebrity: he was consequently brother of
Mrs. R. B. Sheridan. He was bred at Winchester and New College, and
was remarkable, when a minor canon at Norwich, in Norfolk, for


And the ridiculous light in which they placed him, and for carrying a
huge snuff-box in one hand, which he constantly kept twirling with the
other between his finger and thumb. He once attended a ball at the
public assembly rooms, when, having occasion to visit the temple of
Cloacina, he unconsciously walked back into the midst of the crowd of
beauties present, with a certain _coverlid_ under his arm, in lieu of
his opera hat; nor was he aware of the exchange he had made till a
friend gave him a _gentle_ hint. He occasionally rode a short distance
into the country to do duty on a Sunday, when he used compassionately
to relieve his steed by alighting and walking on, with the horse
following, and the bridle on his arm. Upon such occasions he
frequently fell into what is called "a brown study," and arrived at
his destination dragging the bridle after him, _minus_ the horse,
which had stopped by the way to crop grass. He was one day met on the
road so circumstanced, and reminded of the fact by a gentleman who
knew him. "Bless me," said he, with the most perfect composure, "the
horse was with me when I sat out. I must go back to seek him." And
back he went a mile or two, when he found his steed grazing by the
way, bridled him afresh, and reached his church an hour later than
usual, much to the chagrin of his congregation. The late Dr. Adams,
one of the first who went out to Demerara after the established clergy
were appointed to stations and parishes in the West Indies by
authority, was a man of habits very similar to those of Mr. Linley,
and very similar anecdotes are recorded of him, and his oddities are
said to have caused some mirth to his sable followers. He died in
about a year or two, much regretted notwithstanding.

       *       *       *       *       *


"_Semper--pauperimus esse_," were nearly all blest with none or a
slender competence. But what they wanted in wealth was amply supplied
in wit. Spenser, Lee, Otway, Ben Johnson, and his son Randolph,
Milton, Cowley, Dryden, Prior, and Kit Smart, poets as they were, had
fared but so so, had they lived by poësy only--and who ever dreamed of
caring ought for _their_ posterity.

SPENCER was matriculated a member of Pembroke College, Cambridge, the
20th of May, 1569, at the age of sixteen, at which early period he is
supposed to have been under his "sweet fit of poesy," and soon after
formed the design of his great poem, the _Faery Queene_, _stanzas_ of
which, it is said, on very good authority, were lately discovered on
the removal of some of the old wainscoting of the room in which he
_kept_ in Pembroke College. He took B.A. 1573, and M.A. 1576,
without succeeding to fellowship, died _in want of bread_, 1599, and
was buried in Westminster Abbey, according to his request, near
Chaucer. Camden says of him--

  "Anglica, te vivo, vixit plautisque poesis,
  Nunc moritura, timet, te moriente, mori!"

In the common-place-book of Edward, Earl of Oxford and Mortimer,
preserved amongst the MSS. of the British Museum, is the
memoranda:--"Lord Carteret told me, that when he was Lord Lieutenant
of Ireland, a man of the name of Spenser, immediately descended from
our illustrious poet, came to be examined before the Lord Chief
Justice, as a witness in a cause, and that he was so entirely ignorant
of the English language, that they were forced to have an interpreter
for him." But I have no intention to give my readers the _blues_.
"NAT. LEE" was a Trinity man, and was, as the folk say, "as poor as a
church mouse" during his short life, four years of which he passed in
Bedlam. An envious scribe one day there saw him, and mocked his
calamity by asking, "If it was not easy to write like a madman?" "No,
Sir," said he; "but it is


OTWAY was bred at St. John's College, Cambridge. But though his
tragedies are still received with "tears of approbation," he lived in
penury, and died in extreme misery, choked, it is said, by a morsel of
bread given him to relieve his hunger, the 14th of April, 1685. BEN
JONSON, "Rare Ben," also "finished his education" at St. John's, nor
did I ever tread the mazes of its pleasant walks, but imagination
pictured him and his gifted contemporaries and successors, from the
time of the minstrel of Arcadia to the days of Kirke White,

  In dalliance with the nine in ev'ry nook,
  A conning nature from her own sweet book.

But Ben, though "the greatest dramatic poet of his age," after he left
Cambridge, "worked with a trowel at the building of Lincoln's Inn,"
and died poor in everything but fame, in 1637. Ben, however,
contrived to keep nearly as many "jovial days" in a year, as there are
saints in the Roman calendar, and at a set time held a club at the
same Devil Tavern, near Temple-bar, to which the celebrated Cambridge
professor, and reformer of our church music, Dr. Maurice Greene,
adjourned his concert upon his quarrel with Handel, which made the
latter say of him with his natural dry humour, "_Toctor Creene was
gone to de tavil_." There Ben and his _boon_ companions were still
extant, when TOM RANDOLPH (author of "The Muses' Looking-Glass," &c.,)
a student of Trinity College, Cambridge, had ventured on a visit to
London, where, it is said, he stayed so long, that he had already had
a _parley with his empty purse_, when their fame made him long to see
Ben and his associates. He accordingly, as Handel would have said,
_vent to de tavil_, at their accustomed time of meeting; but being
unknown to them, and without money, he was peeping into the room where
they sat, when he was espied by Ben, who seeing him in a _scholar's
thread-bare habit_, cried out "_John Bo-peep_, come in." He entered
accordingly, and they, not knowing the wit of their guest, began to
rhyme upon the meanness of his clothes, asking him if he could not
make a verse, and, withal, to call for his quart of sack. There being
but four, he thus addressed them:--

  "I, John Bo-peep, to you four sheep,
    With each one his good fleece,
  If that you are willing to give me five shilling,
    'Tis fifteen pence a-piece."

"By Jesus," exclaimed Ben (his usual oath,) "I believe this is my son
Randolph!" which being confessed, he was kindly entertained, and Ben
ever after called him his son, and, on account of his learning,
gaiety, and humour, and readiness of repartee, esteemed him equal to
Cartwright. He also grew in favour with the wits and poets of the
metropolis, but was cut off, some say of intemperance, at the age of
twenty-nine. His brother was a member of Christ Church, Oxford, and
printed his works in 1638. Amongst the _Memorabilia Cantabrigiæ_ of
Milton is the fact, that his personal beauty obtained for him the
_soubriquet_ of


And that he set a full value on his fine exterior, is evident from the
imperfect Greek lines, entitled, "_In Effigie ejus Sculptorem_," in
Warton's second edition of his Poems. Some have supposed he had
himself in view, in his delineation of the person of Adam. Every body
knows that his "Paradise Lost" brought him and his posterity less than
20_l._: but every body does not know that there is a _Latin_
translation of it, in twelve books, in the Library of Trinity College,
Cambridge, in MS., the work of one Mr. Power, a Fellow of that
Society, who printed the First Book in 1691, and completed the rest at
the Bermudas, where his difficulties had obliged him to fly, and from
whence it was sent to Dr. Richard Bentley, to publish and pay his
debts with. However, in spite of his creditors, it still remains in
MS. The writer obtained, says Judge Hardinge, alluding I suppose, to
"the tempest of his mind and of his habits," the _soubriquet_ of the
"_Æolian Exile_." There is also a bust of Milton in the Library of
Trinity College, and some of his juvenile poems, &c., in his own
hand-writing. Cowley was bread at Trinity College. His bust, too,
graces its Library, and his portrait its Hall.


When students, wrote Latin as well as English verses, and the curious
in such matters, on reference to this work, will be amused by the
difference of feeling with which their _Alma Mater_ inspired them. To
Cowley the _Bowers of Granta and the Camus_ were the very seat of
inspiration; Milton thought no epithet too mean to express their
charms: yet, says Dyer, in his supplement, "it is difficult to
conceive a more brilliant example of youthful talent than Milton's
Latin Poems of that period." Though they "are not faultless, they
render what was said of Gray applicable to Milton--


His mulberry tree, more fortunate than either that of Shakspeare, or
the pear tree of his contemporary and patron, Oliver Cromwell, is
still shown in the Fellows' Garden of Christ College, and still "bears
abundance in fruit-time," and near it is a drooping ash, planted by
the present Marquis of Bute, when a student of Christ College.

       *       *       *       *       *


I saw cut down, from the window of my sitting-room, in Jesus-lane,
Cambridge (which happened to overlook the Fellows' Garden of Sidney
College,) in March, 1833. The tree is said to have been planted by
Cromwell's own hand, when a student at Sidney College, and, said the
Cambridge Chronicle of the 11th of the above month, it seems not
unlikely that the original stock was coeval with the Protector. The
tree consisted of five stems (at the time it was cut down,) which rose
directly from the ground, and which had probably shot up after the
main trunk had been accidentally or intentionally destroyed. Four of
these stems had been dead for some years, and the fifth was cut down,
as stated above. "A section of it, at eight feet from the ground, had
103 consecutive rings, indicating as many years of growth for that
part. If we add a few more for the growth of the portion still lower
down, it brings us to a period within seventy years of the
Restoration; and it is by no means improbable that the original trunk
may have been at least seventy or eighty years old before it was
mutilated. The stumps of the five stems are still left standing, the
longest being eight feet high; and it is intended to erect a rustic
seat within the area they embrace."


At Sidney College, are his bust, in the Master's Lodge, and his
portrait in the Library. The first was executed by the celebrated
Bernini, at the request of Ferdinand, Grand Duke of Tuscany, from a
plaster impression of the face of Cromwell, taken soon after his
death. It was obtained by the late learned Cambridge Regius Professor
of Botany, Thomas Martyn, B.D., during his stay in Italy, and by him
presented to the Society of Sidney College, of which he was a fellow.
Lord Cork said it bore "the strongest character of _boldness_,
_steadiness_, _sense_, _penetration_, and _pride_." The portrait is
_unique_, drawn in crayons, by the celebrated Cooper, and is said to
be that from which he painted his famous miniatures of the Protector.
In the College Register is a memorandum of Cromwell's admission to the
society, dated April 23, 1616, to which some one has added his
character, in Latin, in a different hand-writing, and very severe

       *       *       *       *       *


Dryden, whom some have styled "The True Father of English Poetry," was
fond of a _college life_, as especially "favourable to the habits of a
student." He was bread at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he resided
seven years, during which he is said never, like Milton and others, to
have "wooed the muses." What were his college habits is not known. The
only notice of him at Trinity (where his bust and portrait are
preserved, the first in the Library, the second in the Hall,) whilst
an undergraduate, is the following entry in the College Register, made
about two years after his admission:--"July 19, 1652. Agreed, then,
that Dryden be put out of Comons, for a fortnight at least, and that
he goe not out of the College during the time aforesaid, excepting to
Sermons, without express leave from the Master or Vice-master
(disobedience to whom was his fault,) and that, at the end of the
fortnight, he read a confession of his crime in the Hall at the
dinner-time, at the three fellows' table."

His contemporary, Dennis the Critic, seems to have been less fortunate
at Cambridge. The author of the "Biographia Dramatica" asserts that he


Which is denied by Dr. Kippis, in the "Biographia Britannica," and
"when Doctors disagree, who shall decide?" In this case a third doctor
steps in for the purpose, in the person of the celebrated Master of
Emmanuel College, Dr. Richard Farmer, who, in a humorous letter,
printed in the European Magazine for 1794, says, on turning to the
_Gesta Book_ of Caius College, under the head, "Sir Dennis sent away,"
appears this entry: "March 4, 1680. At a meeting of the Master and
Fellows, Sir Dennis mulcted 3_l._; his scholarship taken away, and he
_sent out of the college_, for assaulting and wounding Sir Glenham
with a sword."

       *       *       *       *       *


College, Cambridge, as I have been told, where he was educated, and
lived and died a Fellow. After he became French Ambassador, and was
distinguished by his sovereign, he was urged to resign his fellowship.
His reply was (probably not having much faith in the longevity of
_princes' favours_,) "Should I need it, it will always insure me _a
bit of mutton and a clean shirt_!" But it ought also to be added, to
his honour, that the celebrated Thomas Baker, the antiquary, having
been ejected from his fellowship in the same college, for refusing to
take the oaths to William and Mary, Prior generously allowed him the
proceeds of his.

The same Cantab was once at the opera, where a conceited French
composer had taken his seat adjoining, and being anxious that the
audience should know he had written the music, he annoyed our poet by
humming every air so audibly as to spoil the effect of the person's
singing the part, one of the greatest _artistes_ of the day. Thus
annoyed, Prior ventured to _hiss_ the singer. Every body was
astonished at the daring, he being a great and deserved favourite. The
composer hummed again,--again Prior hissed the singer, who, enraged at
the circumstance, demanded "Why he was subject to such indignity?" "I
want that fellow to leave off humming," said Prior, pointing to the
composer, "that I may have the pleasure of hearing you sing, Signor."

       *       *       *       *       *


Dr. Thomas Plume, a former Archdeacon of Colchester, was the
munificent founder of the Cambridge Professorship of Astronomy and
Experimental Philosophy, which (as in the case of the late Dr. Edward
Daniel Clarke and the present George Pryme, Esq. M.A. and M.P.) he was
the first to fill; but he was not as fortunate as the former, to fill
his chair with unparalleled success,--in fact, his lectures were not
quite the fashion. He was smarting under this truth, when he one day
met Dr. Pearce in the streets of Cambridge, the Master of Jesus
College, whom he addressed with, "Doctor, they call my lectures
Plum-B-ian, which is very uncivil. I don't at all like it, Dr.
Pearce." "I suppose the B. stung you," rejoined the latter. Here we
may not inappropriately introduce a trifle, hit off between Dr. Pearce
and the woman who had the care of the Temple Gardens, when he was
master there. It is a rule to keep them close shut during divine
service on Sundays; but the Doctor being indisposed, and having no
grounds attached to his residence save the church-yard, wished to
seize the quiet hour for taking a little air and exercise. He
accordingly rung the garden bell, and Rachel made her appearance; but
she flatly told him she should not let him in, as it was against the
Benchers' orders. "But I am the _Master_ of the Temple," said Dr. P.
"The more shame for you," said Rachel, "you ought to set a better
example;" and the Doctor retired dead beat.

       *       *       *       *       *


Queen's College, Oxford, was called "_a nest of Saxonists_" towards
the close of the sixteenth century, when those learned antiquarians
and Saxonists, Rawlinson and Thwaites, flourished there. It is
recorded of the latter, in Nichols's Bowyer, that he said, writing of
the state of the college, "We want Saxon Lexicons. I have fifteen
young students in that language, and but one _Somner_ for them all."
Our Cambridge gossip,


(taken notice of by Warton also in the first volume of his History of
English Poetry) of a brother Cantab's having undertaken to translate
the Scriptures into Welsh, and rendering _vials_ of wrath (meaning
_vessels_--Rom. v. 8) by the Welsh word _Crythan_, signifying _crowds_
or _fiddles_. "The Greek word being [Greek: phialas]," he adds, "it is
probable he translated from the English only, where finding _vials_,
he mistook it for _viols_." The translator was Dr. Morgan, who died
Bishop of St. Asaph, in 1604.

       *       *       *       *       *


Lord Nugent, _on-dit_, once called on an old college acquaintance,
then a country divine of great simplicity of manners, at a time when
his housekeeper was from home on some errand, and he had undertaken to
_mind the roast_. This obliged him to invite his lordship into the
kitchen, that he might avoid the fate of King Alfred. Our dame's stay
exceeded the time anticipated, and the divine having _to bury a
corpse_, he begged Lord N. to take his turn at the spit, which he
accordingly did, till the housekeeper arrived to relieve him. This
anecdote reminds me of the following


_By the Younger Bowyer, written at St. John's College, Cambridge,
November 29, 1719._

    "Ne quicquam sapit, qui sibi ipsi non sapit."

  A goodly parson once there was,
    To 's maid would chatter Latin;
  (For that he was, I think, an ass,
    At least the rhyme comes pat in.)

  One day the house to prayers were met,
    With well united hearts;
  Below, a goose was at the spit,
    To feast their grosser parts.

  The godly maid to prayers she came,
    If truth the legends say,
  To hear her master English lame,
    Herself to sleep and pray.

  The maid, to hear her worthy master,
    Left all alone her kitchen;
  Hence happened much a worse disaster
    Than if she'd let the bitch in.

  While each breast burns with pious flame,
    All hearts with ardours beat,
  The goose's breast did much the same
    With too malicious heat.

  The parson smelt the odours rise;
    To 's belly thoughts gave loose,
  And plainly seemed to sympathise
    With his twice-murdered goose.

  He knew full well self-preservation
    Bids piety retire,
  Just as the _salus_ of a nation
    Lays obligation higher.

  He stopped, and thus held forth his _Clerum_,
    While him the maid did stare at,
  _Hoc faciendum; sed alterum
    Non negligendum erat_.

                       _Parce tuum Vatum sceleris damnare._

       *       *       *       *       *


Writing of the death of a former Master of Magdalen College,
"whose whole delight was horses, dogs, sporting, &c.," which,
says Cole, happened on the first of September, the legal day for
partridge-shooting to begin, "it put me in mind of the late Dr.
Walker, Vice-master of Trinity, a great florist (and founder of the
Botanical Garden at Cambridge,) who, when told of a brother florist's
death, by shooting himself in the spring, immediately exclaimed,
'Good God! is it possible? Now, at the beginning of tulip-time!'"

       *       *       *       *       *


When Dr. Barrett, Prebend of St. Paul's, was a student at
Peter-house, Cambridge, he happened to make one of a party of
collegians, where it was proposed that each _gentleman_ should _toast_
his _favourite belle_; when it came to his turn, he facetiously gave
"the _college-bell_!"

       *       *       *       *       *


"Previous to my attending Cambridge," says Henry Angelo, in his
Reminiscences, "one of my scholars (whom I had taught at Westminster
School,) at Trinity College, engaged an Irish fencing-master, named
Fitzpatrick," more remarkable for his native humour than science,
and when he had taken too much of the _cratur_, "was amusing to the
collegians, who had engaged him merely to keep up their exercise."
One day, during a bout, some wag placed a bottle of his favourite
"mountain dew" (whisky) on the chimney-piece, which proved so
attractive, "that as his sips increased, so did the numerous hits he
received, till the first so far prevailed, aided by exertion and the
heat of the weather, that he lay, _tandem_, to all appearance dead."
To keep the fun up, he was stripped and laid out like a corpse, with
a shroud on, a coffin close to him, and four candles placed on each
side, ready to light on his recovery. This _jeu de plaisanterie_ might
have been serious; "however, Master _Push_-carte took care not to push
himself again into the same place."

       *       *       *       *       *


When the late King of Denmark was in England, in 1763, when he visited
Eton, &c., he is said to have made a brief sojourn at Cambridge, where
he was received with "all the honours," and took up his abode (as is
usual for persons of his rank) in the lodge of the Master of Trinity.
In his majesty's establishments for learned purposes, as well as
throughout all Germany, &c., no provision is made for lodging and
otherwise providing for the comforts of students, as in the two
English universities; and when he surveyed the principal _court_ of
Trinity, he is said to have had so little notion of an English
university, that he asked "whether that court did not comprise the
whole of the university of Cambridge?" This royal anecdote reminds me
that his present gracious Majesty,


As in duty bound, upon his accession to the throne of his ancestors,
a loyal congratulatory address was voted by the members of the
University of Cambridge in full senate. This was shortly afterwards
presented to his Majesty at St. James's Palace by the then
Vice-Chancellor, Dr. George Thackery, D.D., Provost of King's College,
at the head of a large body of the heads of colleges, and others, _en
robe_. His majesty not only received it most graciously, but with that
truly English expression that goes home to the bosom of every Briton,
told Dr. Thackery he "should shortly take pot-luck with him in
Cambridge." The term, too, is worthy of particular notice, since it
expresses his Majesty's kind consideration for the contents of the
university chest, and the pockets of its members. Oxford, it is well
known, is still _smarting_ under the heavy charges incident upon the
memorable visit of his late Majesty, George the Fourth, in 1814, with
the Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia and their _suites_. It
would be no drawback upon the popularity of princes if they did take
"_pot-luck_" with their subjects oftener than they do. Let there be no
drawback upon hospitality, but let the "feast of reason and the flow
of soul" suffice for the _costly banquet_. In olden times, our
monarchs _took pot-luck_ both at Oxford, Cambridge, and elsewhere,
without their subjects being the less loyal. Queen Elizabeth and James
the First and Second were frequent visitors at both those seats of
learning. Elizabeth, indeed, that flower of British monarchs, suffered
no designing minister to shake her confidence in her people's loyalty.
She did not confine her movements to the dull routine of two or three
royal palaces,--her palace was her empire. She went about "doing good"
by the light of her countenance. She, and not her _minister_, was the
people's _idol_. I therefore come to the conclusion, that the
expressed determination of his majesty, William the Fourth, to take
_pot-luck_ with his good people of the University of Cambridge, is the
dawn of a return of those wholesome practices of which we read in the
works of our ANNALISTS, when

  "'Twas merry in the hall,
  And their beards wagged all."

Wood relates, amongst other humorous incidents, that


In September, 1592, besides plays, &c., there was a disputation in law
and physic, and, amongst many questions, was one,--"_Whether the air,
or meat, or drink, did most change a man?_" and a merry Doctor of that
faculty, named Richard Ratcliffe, lately Fellow of Merton College, but
now Principal of St. Alban's Hall, going about to produce the
_negative_, showed forth a big, large body, a great fat belly, a side
waist, all, as he said, so changed by _meat_ and _drink_, desiring to
see any other so metamorphosed by the _air_. But it was concluded (by
the Moderator) in the affirmative, that _air_ had the greater power of
change. One of the questions (the next day) was,--"_Whether it be
lawful to dissemble in the cause of religion?_" written thus, says
Gutch, "Non est dissimulandum in causa religionis;" "which being
looked upon as a nice question," continues Wood, "caused much
attention from the courtly auditory. One argument, more witty than
solid, that was urged by one of the opponents, was, 'It is lawful to
dispute of religion therefore 'tis lawful to dissemble;' and so going
on, said, 'I myself now do that which is lawful, but I do now
dissemble; ergo, it is lawful to dissemble.' (Id quod nunc ego, de
rebus divinis disputans, ego dissimulare; sed quod nunc ego, de rebus
divinis disputam, ego dissimulare est licitum; at which her majesty
and all the auditory were very merry.)"


In the year 1564, she took up her residence at the lodge of the
Provost of King's College, which stood near the east end of King's
Chapel. We well remember the old pile and the solitary trees that
branched beside; and much as we admire the splendid improvements to
which they have given place, we could almost find it in our hearts to
express regret at the removal of those landmarks of the topographist.
The hall was her guard-chamber, the dining-room her presence-chamber,
and the gallery and adjoining rooms her private apartments. Her visit
lasted five days, during which she was entertained with comedies,
tragedies, orations, disputations, and other academical exercises. She
personally visited every college, and is said to have been so pleased
with the venerable, solemn, and scholastic appearance of Pembroke
Hall, that she saluted it with the words--

  "O Domus antiqua et religiosa!"

       *       *       *       *       *


According to the author of _Historical Anecdotes_, &c., was Thomas
Cartwright, B.D., Lady Margaret's Professor and Fellow of Trinity
College. He and Thomas Preston (afterwards Master of Trinity Hall,)
says Fuller, during Queen Elizabeth's visit at Cambridge, in 1564,
were appointed two of the four disputants in the philosophy-act before
her Majesty. "Cartwright had dealt most with the muses; Preston with
the graces, adorning his learning with comely carriage, graceful
gesture, and pleasing pronunciation. Cartwright disputed like a
_great_, Preston like a _gentile_ scholar, being a handsome man; and
the Queen, upon a parity of deserts, always preferred properness of
person in conferring her favours. Hereupon, with her looks, words, and
deeds she favoured Preston, calling him _her scholler_, as appears by
his epitaph in Trinity Hall chappell.

          'THOMAS PRESTONÆ, Scholarem,
  'Quem dixit princeps Elizabetha suum,' &c.

Insomuch," continues Fuller, "that for his good disputing, and
excellent acting, in the tragedy of _Dido_, she bestowed on him a
pension of 20 lib. a year; whilst Cartwright received neither reward
nor commendation, whereof he not only complained to his inward friends
in Trinity College, but also, after her Majesty's neglect of him,
began to wade into divers opinions against her ecclesiastical
government." And thus, according to the authority first cited, he
became _the first Dissenter in England_, and was deprived,
subsequently, as a matter of course, of both his fellowship and

It was most probably for the entertainment of the Royal Elizabeth,
that one Thomas Still, M.A., of Christ's College, Cambridge,
afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells, composed and produced


A fact no Cantab need blush at, _proh pudor_, though the plot is none
of the sublimest. It was printed as early as 1575, with the following


"A ryght pythy, pleasant, and merie Comedie, entytuled Gammer Gurton's
Needle; played on the stage not long ago in Christe's College, in
Cambridge, made by Mr. S. Master of Arts. Imprynted at London, in
Fleete Streeate, beneth the Conduit, at the signe of Sainte John
Evangelist, by Thomas Colwell." Though altogether of a comic cast, it
was not deficient in genuine humour, and is a curious sample of the
simplicity which prevailed in this country, in the early days of
dramatic art. It is in metre, is spun out into five regular acts, and
an awful piece it is, as may be seen by the following


Gammer Gurton having lost her needle, a great hunt is made in search
of it, and her boy is directed to blow the embers of an expiring
fire, in order to light a candle to help the search. The witch of a
cat has, in the meantime, got into the chimney, with her two fiery
eyes. The boy cries, "it is the devil of a fire!" for when he puffs,
it is out,--and when he does not, it is in. "Stir it!" bawls Gammer
Gurton. The boy does her bidding, and the _cat_ (the _fire_ as he
imagines) flies forthwith amongst a pile of wood. "The house will be
burnt, all hands to work!" roars the boy, and the cat is discovered by
a priest (more cunning than the rest.) This ends the _episode_, with
which the _main plot_ and catastrophe vie. Gammer Gurton, it seems,
had, the day before, been mending her man Hodge's breeches. Now Hodge,
in some game of merriment, was to be punished, for some default, with
three slaps on the breech, to be administered by the brawny hand of
one of his fellow-bumpkins. To that end, his head is laid in Gammer
Gurton's lap; the first slap is given, Hodge bellows out with pain,
and, oh! joyful announcement, on searching for the cause of his
affliction, the needle is discovered, buried up to the eye in poor
Hodge's posterior portion. The needle is then extracted with becoming
demonstrations, and the curtain falls.

Amongst other interesting matters associated with the memory of Queen
Elizabeth (beside that of her having given Cambridge that admirable
body of statutes upon which all laws for their governance still
continue to be framed,) are the following memoranda, extracted by Dyer
from Baker's MSS. in the public library of the University:--

"The 26th daye of Julie, 1578, the Queene's Majestie came in her
progresse intended to Norfolk, to Audley End, at the town of Waldren,
accompanied by the Lorde Treasurer, High Chancellor of the University
of Cambridge. The Vice Chancellor and Masters of Colleges thoughte
meete and convenient for the dischardge of dutie, that the said
Vice-Chancellor and Hedds of Coll. should shewe themselves of the
Courte, and welcome her Grace into these quarters." About the end of
his oration, the orator (Mr. Bridgewater of King's College) makes
mention, that "Mr. Doctor Howland, then vice-chancellor, maketh his
three ordinarie curtesies, and then kneeling at her Majesty's feete,
presenting unto her--


Of Robert Stephens's first printing, folio, bound in redd velvett, and
lymmed with gold; the arms of England sett upon eche syde of the booke
very faire; and on the thirde leafe of the booke, being faire and
cleane paper, was also sett and painted in colours the arms of the
Universitie, with these writings following: Regiæ Majestati
deditissimæ Academiæ Cantabrigiensis Insignia (viz. quatuor Leones cum
Bibl. &c.) Also, with the booke, the Vice-Chancellor presented a pair
of gloves, perfumed and garnished, with embroiderie and goldsmithe's
wourke, pr. 60_s._ and these verses:--


  "Una quod es semper, quod semper es optima, Princeps,
    Quam bene conveniunt hæc duo verba tibi?
  Quod pia, quod prudens, quod casta, innuba virgo
    Semper es, hoc etiam semper es una modo.

  "Et populum quod ames, populo quod amata vicissim
    Semper es, hic constans semper et una manes,
  O utinam; quoniam sic semper es una, liceret
    Una te nobis semper, Eliza, frui?"

Since Cambridge has the merit of producing the _first English play_,
it is but justice here to add, that


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,


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."

       *       *       *       *       *


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


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


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


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


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.

       *       *       *       *       *


"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


      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

                              "'_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.'"


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

In the Oxford Sausage is the following


_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.

       *       *       *       *       *


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

       *       *       *       *       *


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


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


  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.

       *       *       *       *       *


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


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


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.


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

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_,


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,


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


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,


"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

       *       *       *       *       *


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


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.)

       *       *       *       *       *


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


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."

       *       *       *       *       *


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:"--


  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_."

       *       *       *       *       *


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._

"I have mee recommended unto you even from the bottome of my hearte,
desyringe the Holye Ghoste may be amonge you untill the end of the
worlde, and desyringe Almightie God, that everie one of you may love
one another as brethren; and I shall desyre you all to applye to your
learninge, and so doinge, God shall give you his blessinge bothe in
this worlde and the worlde to come. And, furthermore, if anye variance
or strife doe arise amonge you, I shall desyre you, for God's love, to
pacifye it as much as you may; and that doinge, I put no doubt but God
shall blesse everye one of you. And this shall be the last letter that
ever I shall sende unto you; and therefore I shall desyre everye one
of you, to take a copy of yt for my sake. No more to you at this tyme;
but the Lord have you in his keeping until the end of the worlde.
Written the 27th day of January, 1566. I desyre you all to pray to
God for mee, that I may ende my life with patience, and that he may
take mee to his mercye.

                                        "By mee,
                                            "SIR THOMAS WHITE,
                                "_Knighte, Alderman of London, and_
                         "_Founder of St. John's College, in Oxford_."

       *       *       *       *       *


A dispute once arose between the Doctors of Law and Medicine, in
Cambridge, as to which had the right of precedence. "Does the _thief_
or _hangman_ take precedence at executions?" asked the Chancellor, on
reference to his judgment. "The former," answered a wag. "Then let the
Doctors of Law have precedence," said the Chancellor.

       *       *       *       *       *


"The names which learned men bear for any length of time," says Dr.
Parr, "are generally well founded." _Dr. Chillingworth_, for his able
and convincing writings in support of the Protestant Church, was


_Dr. Sutherland_, the friend and literary associate of Dr. Mead, and
others, obtained the _soubriquet_ of


John Duns, better known as the celebrated _Duns Scotus_, who was bred
at Merton College, Oxford, and is said to have been buried alive, was


Another Mertonian, named Occam, his successor and opponent, was named


A third was the famous Sir Henry Savile, who had the title of


Bestowed upon him: and a fourth of the Society of Merton College, was
the celebrated Reformer, John Wickliffe, who was called


Wood, says, that Dr. John Reynolds, President of Corpus Christi
College, Oxford, died in 1607, "one of so prodigious a memory, that he
might have been called


To "see whom," he adds, "was to command virtue itself." If Duns Scotus
was justly called "the most subtle doctor," says Parr, Roger Bacon,


Bonaventure "the Seraphim," Aquinas the "Universal and Evangelical,"
surely Hooker has with equal, if not superior justice, obtained the
name of


Bishop Louth, in his preface to his English Grammar, has bestowed the
highest praise upon the purity of Hooker's style. Bishop Warburton, in
his book on the Alliance between Church and State, often quotes him,
and calls him, "the excellent, the admirable, the best good man of our

       *       *       *       *       *


Senior, says Wood, who in the reigns of Henry V. and VI. taught and
read in Peckwaters Ynne, while it flourished with grammarians, "was
one so well seen in verse and prose, and all sorts of humanity, that
he went beyond the learnedest of his age, and was so noted a
grammarian, that this verse was made upon him:--

  'Ut rosa flos florum sic Leland grammaticorum;'

Which," he adds, "with some alteration, was fastened upon John Leland,
junior, by Richard Croke, of Cambridge, at what time the said Leland
became a Protestant, and thereupon," observes Wood (as if it were a
necessary consequence,) "fell mad:"

  'Ut rosa flos florum sic Leland flos fatuorum.'

Which being replied to by Leland (In Encom. Eruditorum in Anglia, &c.
per Jo. Leland's edit. Lond. 1589,) was answered by a friend of
Croke's in verse also. And here by the way I must let the reader know
that it was the fashion of that age (temp. Hen. VIII.) to buffoon, or
wit it after that fashion, not only by the younger sort of students,
but by bishops and grave doctors. The learned Walter Haddon, Master of
Trinity Hall, Cambridge, and afterwards President of Magdalen College,
Oxford, in an epistle that he wrote to Dr. Cox, Almoner to Edward IV.
(afterwards Bishop of Ely) "doth give him great commendations of his
actions and employments, and further addeth (in his Lucubrations) that
when he was at leisure to recreate his mind, he would, rather than be
idle, 'Scevolæ et Lælii more--aut velitationem illam Croci cum Lelando
perridiculam, vel reliquas Oxonienses nugas (ita enim profecto sunt,'
saith he,) 'evolvere voluerit, &c.' Dr. Tresham, also, who was many
years Commissary or Vice-Chancellor of the University, is said by
(Humfredus in Vita Juelli) 'ludere in re seria, &c.'" When Queen
Elizabeth was asked her opinion of the scholarship of the two great
cotemporaries, the learned Buchanan and Dr. Walter Haddon, the latter
accounted the best writer of Latin of his age, she dexterously avoided
the imputation of partiality by replying: "_Buchannum omnibus
antepono, Haddonum nemini postpono_."

       *       *       *       *       *


Was the friend and cotemporary of Erasmus, at Queen's College,
Cambridge, and was so highly esteemed by that great man, that he
called him, "_Inter doctos nobilissimus, inter nobiles doctissimus,
inter utrosque optimus_." His noble friend once entreated him to


"My Lord," replied the sage, "nothing is more easy than to say Luther
is mistaken: nothing more difficult than to prove him so."


Was the _soubriquet_ conferred upon the celebrated Etonian, Cantab,
Reformer, Provost of King's College, and Bishop of Hereford, Dr.
Edward Fox, by the learned Bishop Godwin. Another Etonian and Cantab,
Dr. Aldrich, Bishop of Carlisle, received from Erasmus, when young,
the equally just and elegant compliment of


       *       *       *       *       *


Many humorous stories are told of the absurd height to which the
observance of _etiquette_ has been carried at both Oxford and
Cambridge. In my time, you might meet _a good fellow_ at a _wine
party_, crack your joke with him, hob-nob, &c., but, unless
introduced, you would have been stared at with the most vacant
wonderment if you attempted to recognise him next day. It is told of
men of both universities, that a scholar walking on the banks of the
Isis, or Cam, fell into the river, and was in the act of drowning,
when another son of _Alma-Mater_ came up, and observing his perilous
situation, exclaimed, "What a pity it is I have not the honour of
knowing the gentleman, that I might save him!" One version of the
story runs, that the said scholars met by accident on the banks of the
Nile or Ganges, I forget which, when the catastrophe took place; we
may, therefore, very easily imagine the presence of either a crocodile
or an alligator to complete the group.

Wood, in his Annals of Oxford, has the following anecdote of


"The masters of olden time at Athens, and afterwards at Oxford, were
called _Sophi_, and the scholars _Sophistæ_; but the _masters_ taking
it in scorn that the _scholars_ should have a larger name than they,
called themselves _Philosophi_,--that is, lovers of science, and so
got the advantage of the scholars by _one syllable_." Every body has
heard of Foote's celebrated motto for a tailor friend of his, about to
sport his coat of arms,---"_List, list, O list!_" But every body has
not heard, probably, though it is noticed in his memoir, extant in
Nichols's Literary Anecdotes, that the learned Cambridge divine and
antiquary, Dr. _Cocks Macro_, having applied to a Cambridge
acquaintance for an appropriate motto to his coat of arms, was pithily
answered with


Every Cantab remembers and regrets the early death of the accomplished
scholar, Charles Skinner Matthews, M.A., late Fellow of Downing
College, who was "the familiar" of the present Sir J. C. Hobhouse, and
of the late Lord Byron. He was not more accomplished than facetious,
nor, according to one of Lord Byron's letters, more facetious than
"beloved." Speaking of his university _freaks_, his lordship says,
"when Sir Henry Smith was expelled from Cambridge, for a row with a
tradesman named "_Hiron_," Matthews solaced himself with shouting
under Hiron's window every evening--

  "Ah me! what perils do environ
  The man who meddles with _hot Hiron_!"

He was also of that


who, under the auspices of ----, used to rouse Lord Mansel (late
Bishop of Bristol) from his slumbers in the Lodge of Trinity
(College;) and when he appeared at the window, foaming with wrath,
and crying out, "I know you, gentlemen; I know you!" were wont to
reply, "We beseech thee to hear us, good _Lort_!--Good _Lort_ deliver
us!" (_Lort_ was his Christian name.) And his lordship might have
added, the pun was the more poignant, as the Bishop was either a
_Welshman_ himself, or had a Welsh sponsor, in the person of the late
Greek Professor, Dr. _Lort_. Punning upon sacred subjects, however, is
decidedly in bad taste; yet, in the reign of the Stuarts, neither king
nor nobles were above it. Our illustrious Cantab, Bacon, writing to
Prince, afterwards Charles the First, in the midst of his disastrous
_poverty_, says, he hopes, "as the father was his _Creator_, the son
will be his _Redeemer_." Yet this great man


But said, towards the close of his chequered life, that "a little
smattering in philosophy would lead a man to Atheism, but a thorough
insight into it will lead a man back to a First Cause; and that the
first principle of religion is right reason; and seriously professed,
all his studies and inquisitions, he durst not die with any other
thoughts than those religion taught, as it is professed among the
Christians." These incidents remind me that


  "Who, to save from rustication,
  Crammed the dunce with declamation,"

Is now fast falling into _forgetfulness_, though there was a time when
he was hailed by Granta's choicest spirits, as one who never failed to
"set the table in a roar." Poor Jemmy! I shall never forget the manner
in which he, by one of those straightforward, not-to-be-mistaken
flashes of wit, silenced a brow-beating Radical Huntingdon attorney,
at a Reform-meeting in Cambridge market-pace. Jemmy was a native of
Cambridge, and was the son of a former chapel-clerk of Trinity
College, who gave him an excellent classical education, and had him
articled to an eminent solicitor, with fine talents and good
prospects. But though Jemmy was "a cunning man with a hard head," such
as his profession required, he had a soft heart,--fell in love with a
pretty girl. That pretty girl, it is said, returned his passion, then
proved faithless, and finally coquetted and ran off with a "_gay_
deceiver," a fellow-commoner of Trinity College,--optically dazzled,
no doubt, with the purple robe and silver lace, for Jemmy was a fine,
sensible-looking man. Poor Jemmy! he was too good for the faithless
hussy; he took it to heart, as they say, and, unfortunately, took to
drinking at the same time. He soon became too unsettled, both in mind
and habits, to follow up his profession with advantage, and he became
a _bon-vivant_, a professed wit, with a natural turn for facete, and
the _cram-man_ of the more idle sons of Granta, who delighted in his
society in those days when his wits were unclouded, nor did the more
distinguished members of the university then disdain to hail him to
their boards. For many years Jemmy lived to know and prove that
"learning is most excellent;" and having a good classical turn, he
lived by writing _Themes_ and _Declarations_ for non-reading Cantabs,
for each of which Jemmy expected the physician's mite, and, like them,
might be said to thrive by the _Guinea_ Trade. It is, no doubt, true,
that some of his productions had college prizes awarded to them, and
that, on one occasion, being recommended to apply for the medal, he
indignantly answered, "It is no credit to be first in an ass-race!"
Notwithstanding, Jemmy's in-goings never equalled his out-goings, and
many a parley had Jemmy with his empty purse. It was no uncommon thing
for him to pass his vacations in _quod_--_videlicet_ jail--for debts
his creditors were well aware he could not pay; but they well knew
also that his friends, the students, would be sure to _pay him out_ on
their return to college. These circumstances give occasion for the
publication of the now scarce caricatures of him, entitled,
"Term-time," and "Non-term." In the first he is represented spouting
to one of his _togaed_ customers, in the latter he appears cogitating
in "durance vile." Besides these, numerous portraits of Jemmy have
been put forth, for the correctness of most of which we, who have
"held our sides at his fair words," can vouch. A full-length is extant
in Hone's Every-Day Book, in the Gradus ad Catabrigiam is a second;
and we doubt not but our friend Mason, of Church-Passage, Cambridge,
could furnish a collector with several. Poor Jemmy! he has now been
dead several years. His latter days were melancholy indeed. To the
last, however, Jemmy continued to sport those distinctive marks of a
man of _ton_, a _spying-glass_ and an _opera-hat_, which so well
became him. Latterly he became troublesome to his best friends, not
only levying contributions at will, but by saying _hard things_ to
them, sparing neither heads of college, tutors, fellows, students, or
others whose names were familiar to him. On one occasion, oblivious
with too much devotion to _Sir John_, as was latterly his wont, his
abuse caused him to be committed to the _tread-mill_--_sic
transit_--and after his term of _exercise_ had expired, meeting a
Cantab in the street whose beauty was even less remarkable than his
wit, he addressed our recreant with, "Well, Jemmy, how do you like the
tread-mill?" "I don't like your ---- ugly face," was the response.
Jemmy's recorded witticisms were at one time as numberless as the
stars, and in the mouth of every son of Granta, bachelor or big-wig;
now some only are remembered. He one day met Sir John Mortlock in the
streets of Granta, soon after he had been knighted; making a dead
pause, and looking Sir John full in the face, Jemmy _improvised_--

  "The king, by merely laying sword on,
  Could make a knight of Jemmy Gordon."

At another time, petitioning a certain college dignitary for a few
shillings to recover his clothes, pledged to appease his thirst, he
said, on receiving the amount, "Now, I know that my redeemer liveth."

Jemmy, in his _glorious days_, had been a good deal patronised by the
late Master of Trinity College, Bishop Mansel, like himself a wit of
the first water. Jemmy one day called upon the bishop, during the time
he filled the office of Vice-Chancellor, to beg half-a-crown. "I will
give you as much," said the Bishop, "if you can bring me a greater
rogue than yourself." Jemmy made his bow and departed, content with
the condition, and had scarcely half crossed the great court of
Trinity, when he espied the late Mr. B., then one of the Esquire
Bedels of the University, scarcely less eccentric than himself. Jemmy
coolly told him that the Vice-Chancellor wanted to see him. Into the
Lodge went our Bedel, followed close by Jemmy. "Here he is," said
Jemmy, as they entered the Bishop's presence, _arcades ambo_, at the
same instant. "Who?" inquired the Bishop. "You told me, my Lord," said
Jemmy, "to bring you a greater rogue than myself, and you would give
me half-a-crown, and here he is." The Bishop enjoyed the joke, and
gave him the money. A somewhat


In Addison's Anecdotes, stating, that about the beginning of the
eighteenth century, when it was more the fashion to drink ale at
Oxford than at present, a humorous fellow of merry memory established
an ale-house near the pound, and wrote over his door, "Ale sold by the
pound!" As his ale was as good as his jokes, the Oxonians resorted to
his house in great numbers, and sometimes stayed there beyond the
college hours. This was made a matter of complaint to the
Vice-Chancellor, who was desired to take away his license by one of
the Proctors. Boniface was summoned to attend accordingly, and when he
came into the Vice-Chancellor's presence, he began hawking and
spitting about the room. This the Vice-Chancellor observed, and asked
what he meant by it? "Please your worship," said he, "I came here on
purpose to clear myself." The Vice-Chancellor imagining that he
actually _weighed his ale_, said, "They tell me you sell ale by the
pound; is that true?" "No, an' please your worship." "How do you,
then?" "Very well, I thank you, sir," said the wag, "how do you do?"
The Vice-Chancellor laughed and said, "Get away for a rogue; I'll say
no more to you." The fellow went out, but in crossing the _quod_ met
the proctor who had laid the information against him. "Sir," said he,
addressing the Proctor, "the Vice-Chancellor wants to speak with you,"
and they went to the Vice-Chancellor's together. "Here he is, sir,"
said Boniface, as they entered the presence. "Who?" inquired the Vice.
"Why, sir," he rejoined, "you sent me for a rogue, and I have brought
you the greatest that I know of." The result was, says the author of
_Terræ-Filius_ (who gives a somewhat different version of the
anecdote,) that Boniface paid dear for his _jokes_: being not only
deprived of his license, but committed to prison.

       *       *       *       *       *


I recollect once being invited, with another Cantab, to _bitch_ (as
they say) with a scholar of Bene't Coll. and arrived there at the hour
named to find the door _sported_ and our host out. We resolved,
however, not to be _floored_ by a _quiz_, and having gained admission
to his rooms per the window, we put a bold face upon matters, went
straight to the buttery, and ordered "_coffee and muffins for two_,"
in his name. They came of course; and having feasted to our heart's
content, we finished our revenge by hunting up all the _tallow_ we
could lay hands on, which we cut up to increase the number, and
therewith illuminated his rooms and beat a retreat as quick as
possible. The College was soon in an uproar to learn the cause for
such a display, and we had the pleasure of witnessing our _wag's_
chagrin thereat from a nook in the court. This anecdote reminds me of
one told of himself and the late learned physician, Dr. Battie, by Dr.
Morell. They were contemporary at Eton, and afterwards went to King's
College, Cambridge, together. Dr. Battie's mother was his _jackall_
wherever he went, and, says Dr. Morell, she kindly recommended me and
other scholars to a chandler at 4_s._ 6_d._ per dozen. But the candles
proved dear even at that rate, and we resolved to vent our
disappointment upon her son. We, accordingly, got access to Battie's
room, locked him out, and all the candles we could find in his box we
lighted and stuck up round the room! and, whilst I thrummed on the
spinnet, the rest danced round me in their shirts. Upon Battie's
coming, and finding what we were at, he "fell to storming and
swearing," says the Doctor, "till the old Vice-Provost, Dr. Willymott,
called out from above, 'Who is


'It is I,' quoth Battle. 'Visit me,' quoth the Vice-Provost. Which,
indeed, we were all obliged to do the next morning, with a distich,
according to custom. Mine naturally turned upon, 'So fiddled Orpheus,
and so danced the _brutes_;' which having explained to the
Vice-Provost, he punished me and Sleech with a few lines from the
_Epsilon_ of Homer, and Battie with the whole third book of Milton, to
get, as we say, by heart." Another College scene, in which Battie
played a part, when a scholar at King's, is the following:--


Given on the authority of his old college _chum_, Ralph Thicknesse,
who, like himself, became a Fellow. There was then at King's College,
says Ralph, a very good-tempered six-feet-high Parson, of the name of
Harry Lofft, who was one of the College chanters, and the constant
_butt_ of all both at commons and in the _parlour_. Harry, says Ralph,
dreaded so much the sight of a gun or a pair of pistols, that such of
his friends as did not desire too much of his company kept _fire-arms_
to keep him at _arm's length_. Ralph was encouraged, by some of the
Fellows, he says (_juniors_ of course,) to make a serious joke out of
Harry's foible, and one day discharged a gun, loaded with powder, at
our six-feet-high Parson, as he was striding his way to prayers. The
powder was coarse and damp and did not all burn, so that a portion of
it lodged in Harry's face. The fright and a little inflammation put
the poor chanter to bed, says Ralph. But he was not the only
frightened party, for we were all much alarmed lest the _report_
should reach the Vice-Chancellor's ears, and the good-tempered Hal was
prevailed with to be _only ill_. Battie and another, who were _not_ of
the _shooting party_ (the only two fellow-students in physic,) were
called to Hal's assistance. They were _not_ told the real state of the
case, and finding his pulse high, his spirits low, and his face
inflamed and sprinkled with red spots, after a serious consultation
they _prescribed_. On retiring from the sick man's room, they were
forthwith examined on the state of the case by the impatient plotters
of the wicked deed, to whose amusement both the disciples of Galen
pronounced Hal's case to be the _black rash_! This, adds Ralph, was a
never-to-be-forgotten _roast_ for Battie and Banks in Cambridge; and
if we may add to this, that Battie, in after life, sent his wife to
Bath for a _dropsy_, where she was shortly _tapped_ of a fine boy, it
may give us a little insight into the _practice of physic_, and induce
us to say with the poet--

  "Better to search in fields for wealth unbought,
  Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught."

The same Ralph relates a humorous anecdote of


The Doctor, says Ralph, was as good a punch as he was a physician, and
after he settled at Uxbridge, in the latter character, where he first
opened his _medical budget_, with the proceeds of his Fellowship at
King's College alone to depend on, Ralph took advantage of a stay in
London to ride over to see his old college chum and fellow-punster,
and reached his _domus_ in the Doctor's absence. Ralph's wig was the
worse for a shower of rain he had rode through, and, taking it off,
desired the Doctor's man, William, to bring him his master's _old
grizzle_ to put on, whilst he dried and put a dust of powder into his.
But ere this could be accomplished, the Doctor returned, as fine as
may be, in his _best tye_, kept especially for visiting his patients
in. As soon as mutual greetings had passed, "Why, zounds, Ralph,"
exclaimed the Doctor, "what a cursed wig you have got on!" "True,"
said Ralph, taking it off as he spoke, "it is a bad one, and if you
will, as I have another with me, I will toss it into the fire." "By
all means," said the Doctor, "for, in truth, it is a very _caxon_,"
and into the _fire_ went the fry. The Doctor now began to skin his
legs, and calling his man, William, "Here," said he, taking off his
tye, "bring me my old wig." "Mr. Thicknesse has got it," said William.
"And where is it, Ralph," said the Doctor, turning upon his visiter.
"_Burnt_, as you desired; and this illustrates the spirit of all
mankind," said Ralph; "we can see the shabby wig, and feel the
pitiful tricks of our friends, overlooking the disorder of our own
wardrobes. As Horace says, 'Nil habeo quod agam;'--'mind every body's
business but your own.'" Talking of _gunpowder_ reminds me of


All who know anything of either Oxford or Cambridge scholars, know
well enough, that their _manners_ are not only _well preserved_ at all
seasons, but that when they are in a humour for sporting, it is of
very little consequence whether other folk preserve their manners or
not. When the late eccentric Joshua Waterhouse, B.D. (who was so
barbarously murdered a few years since by Joshua Slade, in
Huntingdonshire,) was a student of Catherine Hall, Cambridge, of which
he became a Fellow, he was a remarkably strong young man, some six
feet high, and not easily frightened. He one day went out to shoot
with another man of his college, and his favourite dog, Sancho, had
just made his first point, when a keeper came up and told Joshua to
take himself off, in no very classic English. Joshua therefore
declined compliance. Upon this our keeper began to threaten. Joshua
thereupon laid his gun aside, and coolly began taking off his coat
(or, as the fancy would say, to _peel_,) observing, "I came out for a
day's sport, and a day's sport I'll have." Upon which our keeper shot
off, leaving Joshua in possession of the field, from which he used to
boast he carried off a full bag. At another time


Gamesomely inclined, were driving, _tandem_, for the neighbourhood of
Woodstock, when passing a stingy old _cur_, yclept a country
gentleman, who had treated some one of the party a _shabby_ trick, a
thought struck them that now was the hour for revenge. They drove in
_bang up_ style to the front of the old man's mansion, and coolly told
the servant, that they had just seen his master, who had desired them
to say, that he was to serve them up a good dinner and wine, and in
the meantime show them where the most game was to be found. This was
done, and after a _roaring_ day's sport, and a full gorge of roast,
baked and boiled, washed down with the best ale, port and sherry, the
old boy's cellar could furnish, they made Brazen-nose College, Oxon,
8, P.M., much delighted with the result, and luckily the affair went
no further, at the time at least.

       *       *       *       *       *


"Soon after the death of my father," says this learned prelate, in his
Autobiography, published in 1816, "I was sent to the university, and
admitted a sizer of Trinity College, Cambridge, on the 3d of November,
1754. I did not know a single person in the university, except my
tutor, Mr. Backhouse, who had been my father's scholar, and Mr.
Preston, who had been my own school-fellow. I commenced my academic
studies with great eagerness, from knowing that my future fortune was
to be wholly of my own fabricating, being certain that the slender
portion which my father had left to me (300_l._) would be barely
sufficient to carry me through my education. I had no expectations
from relations; indeed I had not a relative so near as a first cousin
in the world, except my mother, and a brother and sister, who were
many years older than me. My mother's maiden name was Newton; she was
a very charitable and good woman, and I am indebted to her (I mention
it with filial piety) for imbuing my young mind with principles of
religion, which have never forsaken me. Erasmus, in his little
treatise, entitled _Antibarbarorum_, says, that the safety of states
depend upon three things, _a proper or improper education of the
prince, upon public preachers, and upon school-masters_; and he might
with equal reason have added, _upon mothers_; for the code of the
mother precedes that of the school-master, and may stamp upon the
_rasa tabula_ of the infant mind, characters of virtue and religion
which no time can efface. Perceiving that the sizers were not so
respectfully looked upon by the pensioners and scholars of the house
as they ought to have been, inasmuch as the most learned and leading
men of the university have even arisen from that order (_Magister
Artis ingenique largitor venter_,) I offered myself for a scholarship
a year before the usual time of the sizers sitting, and succeeded on
the 2nd of May, 1757. This step increased my expenses in college, but
it was attended with a great advantage. It was the occasion of my
being particularly noticed by _Dr. Smith_, the master of the college.
He was, from the examination he gave me, so well satisfied with the
progress I had made in my studies, that out of the sixteen who were
elected scholars, he appointed me to a particular one (Lady Jermyn's)
then vacant, and in his own disposal; not, he said to me, as being
better than other scholarships, but as a mark of his approbation; he
recommended _Saunderson's Fluxions_, then just published, and some
other mathematical books, to my perusal, and gave, in a word, a spur
to my industry, and wings to my ambition. I had, at the time of my
being elected a scholar, been resident in college two years and seven
months, without having gone out of it for a single day. During that
period I had acquired some knowledge of Hebrew, greatly improved
myself in Greek and Latin, made considerable progress in mathematics
and natural philosophy, and studied with much attention Locke's works,
King's book on the Origin of Evil, Puffendorf's Treatise _De Officio
Hominis et Civis_, and some other books on similar subjects; I thought
myself, therefore, entitled to some little relaxation. Under this
persuasion I set forward, May 30, 1757, to pay my elder and only
brother a visit at Kendal. He was the first curate of the New Chapel
there, to the structure of which he had subscribed liberally. He was a
man of lively parts, but being thrown into a situation where there was
no great room for the display of his talents, and much temptation to
convivial festivity, he spent his fortune, injured his constitution,
and died when I was about the age of thirty-three, leaving a
considerable debt, all of which I paid immediately, though it took
almost my all to do it. My mind did not much relish the country, at
least it did not relish the life I led in that country town; the
constant reflection that I was _idling away my time_ mixed itself
with every amusement, and poisoned all the pleasures I had promised
myself from the visit; I therefore took a hasty resolution of
shortening it, and returned to college in the beginning of September,
with a determined purpose to make my _Alma Mater_ the mother of my
fortunes. _That_, I well remember, was the expression I used to
myself, as soon as I saw the turrets of King's College Chapel, as I
was jogging on a jaded nag between Huntingdon and Cambridge. I was
then only a _Junior Soph_; yet two of my acquaintances, the year below
me, thought that I knew so much more of mathematics than they did,
that they importuned me to become their private tutor. I undoubtedly
wished to have had my time to myself, especially till I had taken my
degree; but the narrowness of my circumstances, accompanied with a
disposition to improve, or, more properly speaking, with a desire to
appear respectable, induced me to comply with their request. From that
period, for above thirty years of my life, and as long as my health
lasted, a considerable portion of my time was spent in instructing
others without much instructing myself, or in presiding at
disputations in philosophy or theology, from which, after a certain
time, I derived little intellectual improvement. Whilst I was an
under-graduate, I kept a great deal _of what is called_ the best
company--that is, of idle fellow-commoners, and other persons of
fortune--but their manners never subdued my prudence; I had strong
ambition to be distinguished, and was sensible that wealth might plead
some excuse for idleness, extravagance and folly in others; the want
of wealth could plead more for me. When I used to be returning to my
room at one or two in the morning, after spending a jolly evening, I
often observed a light in the chamber of one of the same standing with
myself; this never failed to excite my jealousy, and the next day was
always a day of hard study. I have gone without my dinner a hundred
times on such occasions. I thought I never entirely understood a
proposition in any part of mathematics or natural philosophy, till I
was able, in a solitary walk, _obstipo capite atque ex porrecto
labello_, to draw the scheme in my head, and go through every step of
the demonstration without book, or pen and paper. I found this was a
very difficult task, especially in some of the perplexed schemes and
long demonstrations of the twelfth Book of _Euclid_, and in
_L'Hôpital's_ Conic Sections, and in _Newton's_ Principia. My walks
for this purpose were so frequent, that my tutor, not knowing what I
was about, once reproved me for being a lounger. I never gave up a
difficult point in a demonstration till I had made it out _proprio
marte_; I have been stopped at a single step for three days. This
perseverance in accomplishing whatever I undertook, was, during the
whole of my active life, a striking feature in my character. But
though I stuck close to abstract studies, I did not neglect other
things; I every week imposed upon myself a task of composing a theme
or declamation in Latin or English. I generally studied mathematics in
the morning, and classics in the afternoon; and used to get by heart
such parts of orations, either in Latin or Greek, as particularly
pleased me. Demosthenes was the orator, Tacitus the historian, and
Persius the satirist whom I most admired. I have mentioned this mode
of study, not as thinking there was any thing extraordinary in it,
since there were many under-graduates then, and have always been many
in the University of Cambridge, and, for aught I know, in Oxford, too,
who have taken greater pains. But I mention it because I feel a
complacence in the recollections of days long since happily spent,
_hoc est vivere bis vita posse priori frui_, and indulge in a hope,
that the perusal of what I have written may chance to drive away the
spirit of indolence and dissipation from young men; especially from
those who enter the world with slender means, as I did. In January,
1759, I took my Bachelor of Arts' degree. The taking of this first
degree is a great era in academic life; it is that to which all the
under-graduates of talent and diligence direct their attention. There
is no seminary of learning in Europe in which youth are more zealous
to excel during the first years of their education than in the
University of Cambridge. I was the second wrangler of my year. In
September, 1759, I sat for a Fellowship. At that time there never had
been an instance of a Fellow being elected from among the junior
Bachelors. The Master told me this as an apology for my not being
elected, and bade me be contented till the next year. On the 1st of
October, 1760, I was elected a Fellow of Trinity College, and put over
the head of two of my seniors of the same year, who were, however,
elected the next year. The old Master, whose memory I have ever
revered, when he had done examining me, paid me this compliment, which
was from him a great one:--'You have done your duty to the College; it
remains for the College to do theirs to you.' I was elected the next
day, and became assistant tutor to Mr. Backhouse in the following
November." Every body knows his subsequent career embraced his
appointment to the several dignified University offices of Tutor,
Moderator, Professor of Chemistry, and Regius Professor of Divinity,
and that he died Bishop of Llandaff. I may here, as an apposite tail
piece, add from Meadley's Life of that celebrated scholar and divine,


In the year 1795, during one of his visits to Cambridge, Dr. Paley, in
the course of a conversation on the subject, gave the following
account of the early part of his own academical life; and it is here
given on the authority and in the very words of a gentleman who was
present at the time, as a striking instance of the peculiar frankness
with which he was in the habit of relating adventures of his youth. "I
spent the two first years of my under-graduateship (said he) happily,
but unprofitably. I was constantly in society where we were not
immoral, but idle and rather expensive. At the commencement of my
third year, however, after having left the usual party at rather a
late hour in the evening, I was awakened at five in the morning by one
of my companions, who stood at my bedside and said, 'Paley, I have
been thinking what a d--d fool you are. I could do nothing, probably,
were I to try, and can afford the life I lead: you can do every thing,
and cannot afford it. I have had no sleep during the whole night on
account of these reflections, and am now come solemnly to inform you,
that, if you persist in your indolence, I must renounce your society.'
I was so struck (continued Paley) with the visit and the visiter, that
I lay in bed great part of the day and formed my plan: I ordered my
bed-maker to prepare my fire every evening, in order that it might be
lighted by myself; I rose at five, read during the whole of the day,
except such hours as chapel and hall required, allotting each portion
of time its peculiar branch of study; and, just before the closing of
gates (nine o'clock) I went to a neighbouring coffee-house, where I
constantly regaled upon a mutton-chop and a dose of milk punch: and
thus on taking my bachelor's degree, I became _senior wrangler_." He,
too, filled the trustworthy and dignified office of Tutor of his
College, and deserved, though he did not die in possession of, a

       *       *       *       *       *


  I rise about nine, get to breakfast by ten,
  Blow a tune on my flute, or perhaps make a pen;
  Read a play till eleven, or cock my laced hat;
  Then step to my neighbours, till dinner, to chat.
  Dinner over, to _Tom's_, or to _James's_ I go,
  The news of the town so impatient to know,
  While _Law_, _Locke_ and _Newton_, and all the rum race,
  That talk of their nodes, their ellipses, and space,
  The seat of the soul, and new systems on high,
  In holes, as abstruse as their mysteries, lie.
  From the coffee-house then I to Tennis away,
  And at five I post back to my College to pray:
  I sup before eight, and secure from all duns,
  Undauntedly march to the _Mitre_ or _Tuns_;
  Where in punch or good claret my sorrows I drown,
  And toss off a bowl "To the best in the town:"
  At one in the morning I call what's to pay,
  Then home to my College I stagger away;
  Thus I tope all the night, as I trifle all day.

       *       *       *       *       *


A certain Oxford D.D. at the head of a college, lately expected a
party of maiden ladies, his sisters and others, to visit him from the
country. They were strangers in Oxford, therefore, like another
Bayard, he was anxious to meet them on their arrival and _gallant_
them to his College. This, however, was to him, so little accustomed
_to do the polite to the ladies_, an absolute event, and it naturally
formed his _prime_ topic of conversation for a month previously. This
provoked some of the Fellows of his College to _put a hoax upon him_,
the most forward in which was one Mr. H----, a _puritan_ forsooth.
Accordingly, a note was concocted and sent to the Doctor, in the name
of the ladies, announcing, that they _had arrived at_ THE _Inn in
Oxford_. "The Inn!" exclaimed the Doctor, on perusing it; "Good God!
how am I to know _the_ Inn?" However, after due preparation, off he
set, in full canonicals, hunting for his belles and _the_ Inn! The
Star, Mitre, Angel, all were searched; at last, the Doctor, both tired
and irritated, began to smell a rat! The idea of a hoax flashed upon
his mind; he hurried to his lodgings, at his College, where the whole
truth flashed upon him like a _new light_, and the window of his room
being open, which overlooked the Fellows' garden, he saw a group of
them rubbing their hands in high glee, and the ringleader, Mr. H----,
in the midst: he was so roused at the sight, that, leaning from the
window, he burst out with--"H----! you puritanical son of a bitch!" It
is needless to add, that the words, acting like a charm, quickly
dissolved their council: but the Doctor, too amiable to remember what
was not meant as an affront, himself afterwards both joined in and
enjoyed the laugh created by the joke.

       *       *       *       *       *


Is attributed to the non-juring divine, celebrated son of Oxon, and
excellent English historian, Thomas Carte, who, falling under the
suspicions of the Government, as a favourer of the Pretender, was
imprisoned at the time the Habeas Corpus Act was suspended, in 1744.
Whilst under examination by the Privy Council, the celebrated Duke of
Newcastle, then minister, asked him, "If he were not a bishop?" "No,
my Lord Duke," replied Carte, "there are no bishops in England, but
what are made by your Grace; and I am sure I have no reason to expect
that honour." Walking, soon after he was liberated, in the streets of
London, during a heavy shower of _rain_, he was plied with, "A coach,
your reverence?" "No, honest friend," was his answer, "this is not a
_reign_ for me to ride in."

       *       *       *       *       *


Cole says, in his _Athenæ Cant._, that Horace Walpole latterly lived
and died a Sceptic; but when a student at King's College, Cambridge,
he was of "a religious enthusiastic turn of mind, and used to go with
Ashton (the late Dr., Master of Jesus College,) his then great friend,
to pray with the prisoners in the castle." Dyer gives the following
poetical version of


In his Supplement, on Doctors _Long_, _Short_, and _Askew_:--

  What's Doctor, and Dr., and Do     writ so?
  Doctor Long, Doctor Short, and Doctor _Askew_.

       *       *       *       *       *


Bishop Porteus said of himself, when holding the See of Chester, that
he "had not interest enough to command a Cheshire cheese."

       *       *       *       *       *


"For sophistry, such as you may call corrupt and vain," says Wood, in
the first volume of his Annals, "which we had derived from the
Parisians, Oxford hath in ancient time been very famous, especially
when many thousands of students were in her, equalling, if not
exceeding, that university from whence they had it; a token of which,
with its evil consequences, did lately remain,--I mean the
quadragesimall exercises, which were seldom performed, or at least
_finished without the help of Mars_. In the reign of Henry the Third,
and before, the schools were much polluted with it, and became so
notorious, that it corrupted other arts; and so would it afterwards
have continued, had it not been corrected by public authority for the
present, though in following times it increased much again, that it
could not be rooted out. Some there were that wrote, others that
preached against it, demonstrating the evil consequences thereof, and
the sad end of those that delighted in it. Jacobus Januensis reports
that one Mr. Silo, a Master of the University of Paris, and Professor
of Logic, had a scholar there, with whom he was very familiar: and
being excellent in the art of sophistry, spared not all occasions,
whether festival or other day, to study it. This sophister being sick,
and almost brought to death's door, Master Silo earnestly desired him,
that after his death he would return to him and give him information
concerning his state, and how it fared with him. The sophister dying,
returned according to promise, with his hood stuffed with notes of
sophistry, and the inside lined with flaming fire, telling him, that
that was the reward which he had bestowed upon him for the renown he
had before for sophistry; but Mr. Silo esteeming it a small
punishment, stretched out his hand towards him, on which a drop or
spark of the said fire falling, was very soon pierced through with
terrible pain; which accident the defunct or ghost beholding, told
Silo, that he need not wonder at that small matter, for he was burning
in that manner all over. Is it so? (saith Silo) well, well, I know
what I have to do. Whereupon, resolving to leave the world, and enter
himself into religion, called his scholars about him, took his leave
of, and dismissed them with these metres:--

  'Linquo coax[3] ranis, cras[4] corvis, vanaque[5] vanis,
  Ad Logicam pergo, que mortis non timet[6] ergo.'

Which said story coming to the knowledge of certain Oxonians, about
the year 1173 (as an obscure note which I have seen tells me,) it fell
out, that as one of them was answering for his degree in his school,
which he had hired, the opponent dealt so maliciously with him, that
he stood up and spake before the auditory thus: 'Profectò, profectò,
&c.' 'Truly, truly, sir sophister, if you proceed thus, I protest
before this assembly I will not answer; pray, sir, remember Mr. Silo's
scholar at Paris,'--intimating thereby, that if he did not cease from
vain babblings, purgatory, or a greater punishment, should be his end.
Had such examples been often tendered to them (adds Wood, with real
bowels of compassion,) as they were to the Parisians, especially that
which happened to one Simon Churney, or Thurney, or Tourney (Fuller
says, Thurway, a Cornish man,) an English Theologist there (who was
suddenly struck dumb, because he vainly gloried that he, in his
disputations, could be equally for or against the Divine truth,) it
might have worked more on their affections; but this being a single
relation, it could not long be wondered at." After these _logical
marvels_, Anthony gives us the following instance of

    [3] Luxuriam scil. luxuriosis, vel potius rixas sophistis.

    [4] Avaritiam scil. avaris.

    [5] Superbiam pomposis.

    [6] Religionem ubi bene viventi non timetur stimulus mortis.


"Dr. Prideaux, when he resigned the office of Vice-Chancellor, 22nd
July, 1626 (which is never done without an oration spoken from the
chair in the convocation, containing for the most part an account of
the acts done in the time of their magistrateship,) spoke only the
aforesaid metres, 'Linquo coax,' &c., supposing there was more matter
in them than the best speech he could make, frustrating thereby the
great hopes of the Academicians of an eloquent oration."

"Oxford hath been so famous for sophistry, and hath used such a
particular way in the reading and learning it," adds Wood, in treating
of the schools, "that it hath often been styled--


So famous, also, for subtlety of logicians, that no place hath
excelled it." This great subtlety, however, would seem, in a degree,
to have departed from our sister of Oxford in 1532, when, they say,


Took a journey to Cambridge, and challenged any to dispute with them
there, in the public schools, on the two following questions:--"_An
jus Civile sit Medicina præstantius?_" In English as much as to say,
_Which does most execution, Civil Law or Medicine?_--a nice point,
truly. But the other formed the subject of serious argumentation, and
ran thus:--"_An mulier condemnata, bis ruptis loqueis, sit tertio
suspendenda?_" Ridley, the Bishop and martyr, then a young man,
student or Fellow of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, is said to have been
one of the opponents on this interesting occasion, and administered
the _flagellæ linguæ_ with such happy effect to one of these pert
pretenders to logic lore, that the other durst not set his wit upon
him. The Oxford sophistry had so much


There, says Wood, that the purity thereof being lost among the
scholars, "their speaking became barbarous, and derived so constantly
to their successors, that barbarous speaking of Latin was commonly
styled by many

  'Oxoniensis loquenti mos.'

The Latin of the schools, in the present day, is none of the purest at
either University. A certain Cambridge Divine, a Professor, who was a
senior wrangler, and is justly celebrated for his learning and great
ability, one day presiding at an act in Arts, upon a dog straying into
the school, and putting in for a share of the logic with a howl at the
audience, the Moderator exclaimed, "_Verte canem ex_." There have,
however, been fine displays of pure Latinity in the schools of both;
and it appears


At a very early period, not only in the art of logic itself, but in
their manner of applying it: for in the beginning of 1517, says Wood,
about the latter end of Lent (a fatal time for the most part to the
Oxonians,) a sore discord fell out between the Cistercian and
Benedictine monks, concerning several philosophical points discussed
by them in the schools. But their arguments being at length flung
aside, they decided the controversy by blows, which, with sore
scandal, continued a considerable time. At length the Benedictines
rallying up what forces they could procure, they beset the
Cistercians, and by force of arms made them fly and betake themselves
to their hostels. In fact, he says, by the use of logic, and the
trivial arts, the Oxford sophists, in the time of Lent, broke the
king's peace, so that the University privileges were several times
suspended, and in danger of being lessened or taken away. Through the
corrupt use of it, "the Parva Logicalia, and other minute matters of
Aristotle, many things of that noble author have been so changed from
their original, by the screwing in and adding many impertinent things,
that Tho. Nashe (in his book, 'Have at you to Saffron Walden,') hath
verily thought, that if Aristotle had risen out of his grave, and
disputed with the sophisters, they would not only have baffled him
with their sophistry, but with his own logic, which they had
disguised, and he composed without any impurity or corruption. It may
well be said, that in this day they have done no more than what Tom
Nashe's beloved Dick Harvey did afterwards at Cambridge, that is to


With ass's ears on his head,--a thing that Tom would 'in perpetuam rei
memoriam,' record and never have done with. Wilson, in his
_Memorabilia Cantabrigiæ_, says of this said Tom Nash, that he was
educated at St. John's College, Cambridge, where he resided seven
years, was at the fatal repast of the pickled herrings with the poet
Green, and, in 1597, was either confined or otherwise troubled for a
comedy on _the Isle of Dogs_ (extant in the MSS. of Oldys,) though he
wrote but the first act, and the players without his knowledge
supplied the rest. He was a man of humour, a bitter satirist, and no
contemptible poet; and more effectually discouraged and non-plused the
notorious anti-prelate and astrologer, Will Harvey, and his adherents,
than all the serious writers that attacked them. There is a good
character of him, says Oldys, in _The return from Parnassus, or
Scourge of Simony_, which was publicly acted by the students of St.
John's, in 1606, wherein


An elegant term, that is in equal request at the sister university,
as well as amongst the coxcombs of the day, adds Wilson, though the
members of St. John's are celebrated for the _origin_ of the term "_to
cut_,"--_i. e._ "to look an old friend in the face, and affect not to
know him," which is the _cut direct_. Those who would be more deeply
read in this art, which has been greatly improved since the days in
which it originated, will find it at large in the _Gradus ad

       *       *       *       *       *


It was a custom of Dr. Kettel, while President of Trinity College,
Oxford (says Tom Warton, citing the MSS. of Dr. Bathurst, in his
Appendix to his Life of Sir Thomas Pope,) "to attend daily the
DISPUTATIONS in the college-hall, on which occasions he constantly
wore a large black furred muff. Before him stood an hour-glass,
brought by himself into the hall, and placed on the table, for
ascertaining the time of the continuance of the exercise, which was to
last an hour at least. One morning, after Cromwell's soldiers had
taken possession of Oxford, a halberdier rushed into the hall during
this controversy, and plucking off our venerable Doctor's muff, threw
it in his face, and then, with a stroke of his halberd, broke the
hour-glass in pieces. The Doctor, though old and infirm, instantly
seized the soldier by the collar, who was soon overpowered, by the
assistance of the disputants. The halberd was carried out of the hall
in triumph before the Doctor; but the prisoner, with his halberd, was
quickly rescued by a party of soldiers, who stood at the bottom of the
hall, and had enjoyed the whole transaction." It was in the grove of
this college, during Monmouth's Rebellion of 1685, that Sir Philip
Bertie, a younger son of Robert Earl of Lindsay, who was a member of
Trinity College, and had spoken a copy of verses in the theatre at
Oxford, in 1683, to the Duke and Dutchess a York, &c., trained a
company, chiefly of his own college, of which he was captain, in the
militia of the university.


Says Warton, in Monmouth's Rebellion. It reminds me of a curious
anecdote concerning Smith's famous Ode, entitled POCOCKIUS, which I
give from MSS., Cod. Balland, vol. xix. Lit. 104:--"The University
raised a regiment for the King's service, and Christ Church and Jesus'
Colleges made one company, of which Lord Morris, since Earl of
Abingdon, was captain, who presented Mr. Urry (the editor of Chaucer,)
a corporal (serjeant) therein, with a halberd. Upon Dr. Pocock's
death, Mr. Urry lugged Captain Rag (Smith) into his chamber in
Peckwater, locked him in, put the key in his pocket, and ordered his
bed-maker to supply him with necessaries through the window, and told
him he should not come out till he made


The sentence being irreversible, the captain made the ODE, and sent
it, with his epistle, to Mr. Urry, who thereupon had his release."
"The epistle here mentioned," adds Tom, "is a ludicrous prose analysis
of the ODE, beginning _Opusculum tuum, Halberdarie amplissime_," &c.,
and is printed in the fourth volume of Dr. Johnson's English Poets,
who pronounces it _unequalled_ by modern writers. This same Oxonian,
Smith, had obtained the _soubriquet_ of


By his negligence of dress. He was bred at Westminster School, under
Doctor Busby; and it is to be remembered, for his _honour_, "that,
when at the Westminster election he stood a candidate for one of the
universities, he so signally distinguished himself by his conspicuous
performances, that there arose no small contention between the
representatives of Trinity College in Cambridge, and Christ Church in
Oxon, which of those two royal societies should adopt him as their
own. But the electors of Trinity having a preference of choice that
year, they resolutely elected him; who yet, being invited the same
time to Christ Church, he chose to accept of a studentship there."

       *       *       *       *       *


When our learned Oxonian, Dr. Johnson, was on his tour in the
Hebrides, accompanied by Bozzy, as Peter Pindar has it, says an
American writer, they had one day travelled so far without
refreshment, that the Doctor began to _growl_ in his best manner. Upon
this Bozzy hastened to a cottage at a distance, ordered a dinner, and
was lucky in obtaining the choice of a roast leg of mutton and the
Doctor's favourite plum-pudding. Upon reaching the house, the appetite
of the latter drove him into the kitchen to inspect progress, where he
saw a boy basting the meat, from whose head he conceited he saw
_something_ descend, by the force of _gravity_, into the dripping-pan.
The meat was at length served up, and Bozzy attacked it with great
glee, exclaiming, "My dear Doctor, do let me help you to some,--brown
as a berry,--done to a turn." The Doctor said he would wait for the
pudding, chuckling with equal glee, whilst Bozzy nearly devoured the
whole joint. The pudding at length came, done to a turn too, which the
Doctor in his turn greedily devoured, without so much as asking Bozzy
to a bit. After he had wiped his mouth, and begun to compose himself,
Bozzy entreated to know what he was giggling about whilst he eat the
mutton? The Doctor clapped his hands to both sides for support, as he
told him what he saw in the kitchen. Bozzy thereupon begun to exhibit
sundry qualms and queer faces, and calling in the boy, exclaimed, "You
rascal, why did you not cover your dirty head with your cap when
basting the meat?" "'Cause mother took it to boil the pudding in!"
said the urchin. The tables were turned. The Doctor stared aghast,
stamped, and literally roared, with a voice of thunder, that if Bozzy
ever named the circumstance to any one, it should bring down upon him
his eternal displeasure! The following, not very dissimilar anecdote,
is told of a Cantab, who was once out hunting till his appetite became
as keen as the Doctor's, and, like his, drove him to the nearest
cottage. The good dame spread before him and his friend the contents
of her larder, which she described as "a _meat_ pie, made of odds and
ends, the remnant of their own frugal meal." "Any thing is better than
nothing," cried the half famished Cantab, "so let us have it--ha,
Bob." Bob, who was another Cantab, his companion, nodded assent. No
sooner was the savoury morsel placed before him, than he commenced
operations, and greedily swallowed mouthful after mouthful,
exclaiming, "Charming! I never tasted a more delicious morsel in my
life! But what have we here?" said he, as he sucked something he held
in both hands; "_Fish_, as well as flesh, my good woman?" "Fish!"
cried the old dame, as she turned from her washing to eye our
sportsman, "why, Lord bless ye, i' that bean't our Billy's _comb_!"
The effect was not a little ludicrous on our hungry Cantab, whilst
Bob's "Haw! haw! haw!" might have been heard from the Thames Tunnel to
Nootka Sound.

       *       *       *       *       *


Why should we smother a good thing with _mystifying dashes_, instead
of plain English high-sounding names, when the subject is of
"honourable men?" "_Recte facta refert._"--Horace forbid it! The
learned Chancery Barrister, John Bell, K.C., "_the Great Bell of
Lincoln_," as he has been aptly called, was _Senior Wrangler_, on
graduating B.A., at Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1786, with many
able competitors for that honour. He is likewise celebrated, as every
body knows, for writing three several hands; one only he himself can
read, another nobody but his clerk can read, and a third neither
himself, clerk, nor any body else can read! It was in the latter hand
he one day wrote to his legal contemporary and friend, the present Sir
Launcelot Shadwell, Vice-Chancellor of England (who is likewise a
Cantab, and graduated in 1800 at St. John's College, of which he
became a Fellow, with the double distinction of Seventh Wrangler and
Second Chancellor's Medallist) inviting him to dinner. Sir Launcelot,
finding all his attempts to decipher the note about as vain as the
wise men found theirs to unravel the Cabalistic characters of yore,
took a sheet of paper, and having _smeared_ it over with ink, he
folded and sealed it, and sent it as his answer. The receipt of it
staggered even the Great Bell of Lincoln, and after breaking the seal,
and eyeing and turning it round and round, he hurried to Mr.
Shadwell's chambers with it, declaring he could make nothing of it.
"Nor I of your note," retorted Mr. S. "My dear fellow," exclaimed Mr.
B., taking his own letter in his hand, is not this, as plain as can
be, "Dear Shadwell, I shall be glad to see you at dinner to-day." "And
is not this equally as plain," said Mr. S., pointing to his own paper,
"My dear Bell, I shall be happy to come and dine with you."

       *       *       *       *       *


In both Oxford and Cambridge the cooks are restricted to a certain sum
each term, beyond which the college will not protect them in their
demand upon the students. All else are _extras_, and are included in
"_sizings_" in Cambridge; in Oxford the term is "_to battel_." The
head of a college in the latter university, not long since, sent for
Mr. P----, one of his society, who had _batteled_ much beyond the
allowance; and after Mr. P---- had endeavoured to excuse himself on
the ground of appetite, turning to the account, the Rector observed,
"_meat_ for breakfast, _meat_ for lunch, _meat_ for dinner, _meat_ for
supper," and looking up in the face of the dismayed student, he
exclaimed, with his Welsh accent, "Christ Jesus! Mr. P----, what guts
you must have." This reminds me of


Now no more, who is said to have been a great gourmand, and weighed
something less than thirty stone, but not much. At the college table,
where our D.D. daily took his meal, in order that he might the better
put his hand upon the dainty morsels, being very corpulent, he caused
a piece to be scooped out, to give him a fair chance. His chair was
also so placed, that his belly was three inches from the table at
sitting down, and when he had eaten till he touched it, his custom was
to lay down his knife and fork and desist, lest, by eating too much,
any dangerous malady should ensue. A waggish Fellow of his college,
however, one day removed his chair double the distance from the table,
which the doctor not observing, began to eat as usual. After taking
more than his _quantum_, and finding that he was still an inch or two
from the _goal_, he threw down his knife and fork in despair,
exclaiming, he "was sure he was going to die;" but having explained
the reason, he was relieved of his fears on hearing the joke had been
played him.

       *       *       *       *       *


Every Cantab of the nineteenth century must remember our friend Smith
of the Blue Boar, Trinity Street, charioteer of that now _defunct_
vehicle and pair which used to ply between Cambridge, New-market, and
Bury St. Edmunds, and on account of its _celerity, and other marked
qualities_, was called "_The Slow and Dirty_" by Freshman, Soph,
Bachelor, and Big-wig, now metamorphosed into a handsome four-in-hand,
over which our friend Smith presides in a style worthy of _the Club
itself_! He had one day, in olden time, pulled up at Botsham, midway
between Newmarket and Cambridge, when there happened to be several
Cantabs on the road, who were refreshing their nags at the
"self-same" inn, the Swan, at which _the Slow and Dirty_ made its
daily halt. "Any passengers?" inquired Smith. "One inside," said a
Cambridge wag, standing by, whose eye was the moment caught by a young
ass feeding on the nettles in a neighbouring nook. Having put his
fellows up to the joke, Smith was invited in-doors and treated with a
glass of grog; meanwhile, my gentleman with the long ears was popped
inside the coach. Smith coming out, inquired after his passenger, whom
he supposed one of his friends, the Cantabs, and learnt he was housed.
"All right," said Smith, and off he drove, followed quickly by our wag
and party on horseback, who determined to be in at the _denouement_.
Smith had not made much way, when our inside passenger, not finding
himself _in clover_, popped his head out at one of the coach windows.
The spectacle attracted the notice of many _bipeds_ as they passed
along; Smith, however, notwithstanding their laughter, "kept the even
tenor of his way." At Barnwell the boys _huzzaed_ with more than their
usual greetings, but still Smith kept on, unconscious of the cause. He
no sooner made Jesus' Lane, than crowds began to follow in his wake,
and he dashed into the Blue-Boar yard with _a tail_ more numerous than
that upon the shoulders of which Dan O'Connell rode into the first
Reformed Parliament, Feargus included. Down went the reins, as the
ostlers came to the head of his smoking _prads_, and Smith was in a
moment at the coach door, with one hand instinctively upon the latch,
and the other raised to his hat, when the whole truth flashed upon his
astonished eyes, and Balaam was safely landed, amidst peals of
laughter, in which our friend Smith was not the least _uproarious_.

       *       *       *       *       *


When Paley, in 1762, kept his act in the schools, previously to his
entering the senate-house, to contend for mathematical honours, it was
under the moderators, Dr. John Jebb, the famous physician and advocate
of reform in church and state, and the learned Dr. Richard Watson,
late Bishop of Llandaff. _Johnson's Questiones Philosophicæ_ was the
book then commonly resorted to in the university for subjects usually
disputed of in the _schools_; and he fixed upon two questions, in
addition to his mathematical one, which to his knowledge had never
before been subjects of _disputation_. The one was _against Capital
Punishments_; the other _against the Eternity of Hell Torments_. As
soon, however, as it came to the knowledge of the heads of the
university that Paley had proposed such questions to the moderators,
knowing his abilities, though young, lest it should give rise to a
controversial spirit, the master of his college, Dr. Thomas, was
requested to interfere and put a stop to the proceeding, which he did,
and Bishop Watson thus records the fact in his Autobiography:--"Paley
had brought me, for one of the questions he meant for his act,
_Æternitas pænarum contradicit Divinis Attributis_! The Eternity of
Hell Torments contrary to the Divine Attributes. I had accepted it. A
few days afterwards he came to me in a great fright, saying, that the
master of his college, Dr. Thomas, Dean of Ely, insisted on his not
keeping on such a question. I readily permitted him to change it, and
told him that, if it would lessen his master's apprehensions, he might
put a '_non_' before '_contradicit_;' making the question, The
Eternity of Hell Torments _not_ contrary to the Divine _Attributes_:
and he did so." In the following month of January he was senior


And used to declare he could read no Latin author with pleasure but
Virgil: yet when the members' prize was awarded to him for a _Latin_
prose essay, in 1765, which he had illustrated with _English_ notes,
he was, strange enough, though his disregard of the classics was well
known, suspected of being the author of the _Latin only_. The reverse
was probably nearer the truth. It is notorious that


And when, in 1795, he proceeded to D.D., after being made Sub-Dean of
Lincoln, he, in the delivery of his _Clerum_, pronounced prof[)u]gus
prof[=u]gus, which gave some Cambridge wag occasion to fire at him the
following epigram:--

  "Italiam fato _profugus_, Lavinaque venit
  Litora; * * * * *
  Errat Virgilius, forte _profugus_ erat."

He had


In his composition, and some time after the Bishop of Durham so
honourably and unsolicited presented him to the valuable living of
Bishop Wearmouth, dining with his lordship in company with an aged
divine, the latter observed in conversation, "that although he had
been married about forty years, he had never had the slightest
difference with his wife." The prelate was pleased at so rare an
instance of connubial felicity, and was about to compliment his guest
thereon, when Paley, with an arch "_Quid?_" observed, "Don't you think
it must have been very flat, my Lord?"


A writer, recording his _on dits_, in the New Monthly Magazine, says,
in Paley's own words, he made it a rule never to buy a book that he
wanted to read but once. In more than one respect,


The latter had a great admiration for the _canonical dress_ of his
order, and freely censured the practice of clergymen not generally
appearing in it. When on a visit to his friend, the celebrated Mr.
Roscoe, at that gentleman's residence near Liverpool, Parr used to
ride through the village in full costume, including his famous wig, to
the no small amusement of the rustics, and chagrin of his companion,
the present amiable and learned Thomas Roscoe, originator and editor
of "The Landscape Annual," &c. Paley wore a white wig, and a coat cut
in the close court style: but could never be brought to patronise, at
least in the country, that becoming part of the dress of a dignitary
of the church, a _cassock_, which he used to call a black apron, such
as the master tailors wear in Durham.


"When I followed my father," he says, "on a pony of my own, on my
first journey to Cambridge, I fell off seven times. My father, on
hearing a thump, would turn his head half aside, and say, 'Take care
of thy money, lad!'" This defect he never overcame: for when advanced
in years, he acknowledged he was still so bad a horseman, "that if any
man on horseback were to come near me when I am riding," he would say,
"I should certainly have a fall; company would take off my attention,
and I have need of all I can command to manage my horse, the quietest
creature that ever lived; one that, at Carlisle, used to be covered
with children from the ears to the tail."


Meadly, his biographer, relates, that when asked why he had exchanged
his living of Dalston for Stanwix? he frankly replied, "Sir, I have
two or three reasons for taking Stanwix in exchange: first, it saved
me double housekeeping, as Stanwix was within twenty minutes' walk of
my house in Carlisle; secondly, it was 50_l._ a-year more in value;
and, thirdly, I began to find my stock of sermons coming over again
too fast." He was


And carried his passion for angling so far, that when Romney took his
portrait, he would be taken with a rod and line in his hand.


"When residing at Carlisle," he says, "if I wanted to write any thing
particularly well, I used to order a post-chaise, and go to a quiet
comfortable inn, at Longtown, where I was safe from the trouble and
bustle of a family, and there I remained until I had finished what I
was about." In this he was


Who, when he meditated his incomparable poem of the "Deserted
Village," went into the country, and took a lodging at a farm-house,
where he remained several weeks in the enjoyment of rural ease and
picturesque scenery, but could make no progress in his work. At last
he came back to a lodging in Green-Arbour Court, opposite Newgate, and
there, in a comparatively short time, in the heart of the metropolis,
surrounded with all the antidotes to ease, he completed his
task--_quam nullum ultra verbum_.


Soon after he became senior wrangler, having no immediate prospect of
a fellowship, he became an assistant in a school at Greenwich, where,
he says, I pleased myself with the imagination of the delightful task
I was about to undertake, "teaching the young idea how to shoot." As
soon as I was seated, a little urchin came up to me and
began,--"_b_-_a_-_b_, bab, _b_-_l_-_e_, ble, babble!" Nevertheless, at
this time, the height of his ambition was to become the first
assistant. During this period, he says, he restricted himself for some
time to the mere necessaries of life, in order that he might be
enabled to discharge a few debts, which he had incautiously contracted
at Cambridge. "My difficulties," he observes, "might afford a useful
lesson to youth of good principles; for my privations produced a habit
of economy which was of infinite service to me ever after." At this
time I wanted a waistcoat, and went into a second-hand clothes-shop.
It so chanced that I bought the very same garment that Lord Clive wore
when he made his triumphal entry into Calcutta.


The finances of the latter obliged him to leave Cambridge _without_ a
degree; after he had been assistant at Harrow, had a school at
Stanmore, and been head master of the grammar school at Colchester,
and had become head master of that of Norwich, they remained so low
that once looking upon a small library, says Mr. Field, in his Life of
the Doctor, "his eye was caught by the title, 'Stephani Thesaurus
Linguæ Græcæ,' turning suddenly about, and striking violently the arm
of the person whom he addressed, in a manner very unusual with him,
'Ah! my friend, my friend,' he exclaimed, 'may _you_ never be forced,
as _I_ was at Norwich, to sell that work--to _me_ so precious--from
absolute and urgent necessity!'" "At one time of my life," he said, "I
had but 14_l._ in the world. But then, I had good spirits, and owed no
man sixpence!"


The first, it is well known, vacated his fellowship, and left himself
pennyless, rather than subscribe to the _Thirty-nine Articles_, from
which there is no doubt he conscientiously dissented; and when asked
to subscribe his belief in the notorious Shakspeare _forgery_ of the
Irelands, his reply was, "I subscribe to no articles of faith." When
Paley was solicited to sign his name to the supplication of the
petitioning clergy, for _relief from subscription_, he has the credit
of replying, he "_could not afford to keep a conscience_," a saying
that many have cherished to the prejudice of that great man's memory,
but which it is more than probable he said in his dry, humorous
manner, without suspicion it would be remembered at all, and merely to
rid himself of some importunate applicant. Paley, it is well known,
notwithstanding the conclusions to which some interested writers have
come, was strongly and conscientiously attached to the doctrines and
constitution of the Established Church; and it was impossible but
that, with his fine common-sense perception, he must have been well
aware, that no _Established Church_, such as is that of England, could
long exist as such, _if not fenced round by articles of faith_. And
here I am reminded of an


He was once very much pressed by a body of Divines, says Collins, in
his Life, to make some _alteration in the Liturgy_, upon which he
desired them to go into the next room by themselves, and bring in
their _unanimous opinion on the disputed points_. But they very soon
returned _without being able to agree_. "Why, gentlemen," said he,
"how can you expect that I should alter my point in dispute, when you,
who must be more competent to judge, from your situation, than I can
possibly be, cannot agree among yourselves in what manner you would
have me alter it."


Were, that he would "never truste anie man not of sounde religion; for
he that is false to God, can never be true to man."

Parents, he said, were to be blamed for "the unthrifty looseness of
youth," who made them men seven years too soon, and when they "had but
children's judgments."

"Warre is the curse, and peace the blessinge of a countrie;" and "a
realme," he said, "gaineth more by one year's peace, than by tenne
years' warre."

"That nation," he would observe, "was happye where the king would take
counsell and follow it." With such a sage minister, it is not
surprising that Elizabeth was the greatest princess that ever lived,
nor that she gave such wise laws to Cambridge, whose Chancellor he


"When I was seventeen," Porson once observed, "I thought I knew every
thing; as soon as I was twenty-four, and had read Bentley, I found I
knew nothing. Now I have challenged the great scholars of the age to
find _five_ faults to their _one_, in any work, ancient or modern,
they decline it." On another occasion, he described himself as


Person declining to enter into holy orders, as the statute of his
college required he should do, lost his fellowship at Trinity, after
he had enjoyed it ten years; "on which heart-rending occasion," says
his friend and admirer, Dr. Kidd, "he used to observe, with his usual
good humour (for nothing could depress him,) that he was _a gentleman
living in London without a sixpence in his pocket_." Two years
afterwards his friends procured his election to the Regius
Professorship of Greek, on the death of Professor Cooke, the sudden
news of which event, he says, in a letter printed in Parriana,
addressed to the then Master of Trinity, the learned Dr.
Postlethwaite, all his ambition of that sort having been long ago laid
asleep, "put me in mind of poor Jacob, who, having served seven years
in hope of being rewarded with Rachel, awoke, and behold it was Leah."
He had seven years previously projected a course of lectures in Greek,
which most unaccountably were not patronised by the Senate.

       *       *       *       *       *


Mr. Pointer says, in his _Oxoniensis Academia, &c._, speaking of the
curiosities connected with Worcester College, there were "Ruins of a
Royal Palace, built by King Henry the First, in Beaumont, near
Gloucester-green, upon some parts of which ruins, the late Dr.
Woodroff (when principal of Gloucester Hall, now Worcester College)
built lodgings for the education of young scholars from Greece, who,
after they had been here educated in the reformed religion, were to be
sent back to their own country, in order to propagate the same there.
And accordingly some young Grecians were brought hither, and wore
their Grecian habits; but not finding suitable encouragement, this
project came to nothing."

       *       *       *       *       *


Fuller says, that Erasmus thus wrote of the Cambridge folk, at the
beginning of the sixteenth century. "Vulgus Cantabrigiense,
inhospitales Britannos antecedit, qui cum summa rusticitate summum
militiam conjunxere." This will by no means _now_ apply to the better
class of tradespeople, and in no place that I know of is there more
hospitality amongst the higher orders of society. Kirk White, in his
Letters, is not very complimentary either to


The latter are called _scouts_ in Oxford, and their office borders on
what is generally understood by the word _valet_. The term _Gyp_ is
well applied from [Greek: Gyps], a _vulture_, they being, in the
broadest sense of the word, addicted to _prey_, and not
over-scrupulous at both _picking_ and _stealing_, in spite of the
Decalogue. I had one evening had a _wine party_, during the warm
season of the year; we drank freely, and two of the party taking
possession of my bed, I contented myself with the sofa. About six in
the morning the _Gyp_ came into the room to collect boots, &c. and
either not seeing me, or fancying I slept (the wine being left on the
table,) he very coolly filled himself a glass, which he lost no time
in raising to his lips, but ere he had swallowed a drop, having
watched his motions, I _whistled_ (significant of recognition,) and
down went the wine, glass and all, and out bolted our _gyp_, who
_actually blushed_ the next time he saw me. Another anecdote touching
lodging-house keepers, I will head


A certain mistress of a lodging-house, in Green-street, Cambridge,
where several students had rooms, having a propensity, not for the
_ethereal_ charms of the music so called, but for the invigorating
liquor itself, had a habit, with the assistance of what is called a
_screw-driver_, but which might more aptly be termed a _screw-drawer_,
of opening cupboard doors without resorting to the ordinary use of a
key. By this means she had one day abstracted a bottle of brandy from
the store of one of the students (now a barrister of some practice and
standing,) with which, the better to consume it in undisturbed
dignity, she retired to the temple of the goddess Cloacina. She had
been missed for some time, and search was made, when she was found
_half seas over_, as they say, with the remnant of the bottle still
grasped in her hand, which she had plied so often to her mouth, that
she was unable to lift her hand so high, or indeed to rise from her
_seditious_ posture. Upon this scene a caricature of the first water
was sketched, and circulated by some Cambridge wag; another threw off
the following Epigrammatic Conun:

  Why is my Dalia like a rose?
  Perhaps, you'll say, because her breath
  Is sweeter than the flowers of earth:
  No--odious thought--it is, her nose
  Is redder than the reddest rose;
  Which she has long been very handy
  At colouring with _drops of brandy_.

Another head of a lodging-house is a notorious member of what in
Cambridge is called--


This is a society that has existed in the town of Cambridge for ages,
whose functions consist in _wearing the linen of the students who
lodge in their houses after it has been cast off for the laundress_.
This same individual, however, had a taste for higher game, and one of
the students, who had rooms in his house, being called to London for a
few days, returning rather unexpectedly, actually found mine host at
the head of the table, in his sitting-room, surrounded by some twenty
_snobs_, his friends. Our gownsman very properly resented his
impertinence, took him by the collar and waist, and, in the language
of that fine old song, goose-a-goose-a-gander, "_threw him down
stairs_." The rest of the party prudently followed at this hint,
leaving the table covered with the remains of sundry bottles of wine
and a rich dessert. Thus the affair terminated at that time: but our
gownsman being a man of fortune, and one of those accustomed,
therefore, to treat his brother students, his friends, sumptuously
too, went two or three days after, to his fruiterer's, to order


"The same as you had on Wednesday?" inquired the fruiterer. "On
Wednesday!" he exclaimed with astonishment,--"I had _no_ dessert on
Wednesday!" "Oh, yes, sir," was the rejoinder, "Mr. ---- himself
ordered it for you, and, as I before said, for twenty!" The whole
matter was soon understood to be, that the lodging-house keeper had
actually done him the honour to give his brother snobs, of the _dirty
shirt fraternity_, an invite and sumptuous entertainment at his
expense! Of course, he did not remain in the house of such a
_free-and-easy-gent_. I name the fact as a recent occurrence, and


But this is not the only way in which they are fleeced: the minor
articles of _grocery_ are easily appropriated: nay, not only easily
appropriated, but a _duplicate_ order is occasionally delivered _for
the benefit of the house_. Some tradesmen have made


From various causes. I remember one man who, in six years, beginning
life at the _very beginning_, saved enough to retire upon an
independence for the rest of his life. Did he _chalk double_? I answer
not. But students should look to these things. At St. John's College,
Cambridge, the tutors have adopted an excellent plan by which, with
ordinary diligence, cheats may be detected: they oblige the tradesmen
to furnish them with duplicates of their bills against the students,
one of which is handed to the latter, and any error pointed out, they
will be _forced_ to rectify.


Is a trick tradesmen have, in the Universities, of _persuading_
students to get into their debt, actually pressing their wares upon
them, and then, when their books show sufficient reason, forsooth,
they _make a mock_ assignment of their affairs over to their
creditors, and some _pettifogging_ attorney addresses the unlucky
debtors with an intimation, that, unless the account is forthwith
paid, together with the expenses of the application, further
proceedings will be taken! though the wily tradesman has assured the
purchaser of his articles that credit would run to any _length he
pleased_: and so it does, and no longer. Such fellows should be
_marked and cut_! It is but justice to add, however, that these
observations do not apply to that respectable class of tradesmen, of
whom the student _should_ purchase his necessaries. The motto of every
student, notwithstanding, who is desirous of not injuring his future
prospects in life, by too profuse an expenditure, should be "fugies
Uticam,"--keep out of debt!

       *       *       *       *       *


Some of Dr. Parr's hearers, struck with a remarkable passage in his
sermon, asked him "Whether he had read it from his book?" "Oh, no,"
said he, "it was the light of nature suddenly flashing upon me." He
once called a clergyman _a fool_. The divine, indignant, threatened to
complain to the Bishop. "Do so," was the reply, "and my Lord Bishop
will _confirm you_."

To the same wit, when a student at Emanuel College, is attributed the


"_Tu doces_," (_thou tea-chest_!) Others give the paternity to Lord
Erskine, when a Fellow Commoner of Trinity College, Cambridge;
_n'importe_, they were friends.


It is related of them, that one day, sipping their wine together, the
Doctor exclaimed, "Should you give me an opportunity, Erskine, I
promise myself the pleasure of writing your epitaph." "Sir," was the
reply, "it's a temptation to commit suicide." On another occasion more
than one authority concur in the Doctor's thus


"Porson, sir, is the first, always the first; we all yield to him.
Burney is the third. Who is the second, I leave you to guess."


Peeped out on his one night being seated in the side gallery at the
House of Commons, with the late Sir James Mackintosh, &c., where he
could see and be seen by the members of the opposition, his friends.
The debate was one of great importance. Fox at length rose, and as he
proceeded in his address, the Doctor grew more and more animated, till
at length he rose as if with the intention of speaking. He was
reminded of the impropriety, and immediately sat down. After Fox had
concluded, he exclaimed: "Had I followed any other profession, I might
have been sitting by the side of that illustrious statesman; I should
have had all his powers of argument,--all Erskine's eloquence,--and
all Hargrave's law." He had one day been arguing and disagreeing with
a lady, who said, "Well, Dr. Parr,


"Madam," he rejoined, "you may, if you please, _retain_ your opinion:
but you cannot _maintain_ it." Another lady once opposing his opinions
with more pertinacity than cogency of reasoning, concluded with the
observation, "You know, Doctor,


"No, madam," he replied, "it is not their _privilege_, but their
_infirmity_. Ducks would walk, if they could, but nature suffers them
only to waddle."

After some persons, at a party where the Doctor made one, had
expressed their regret that he had not written more, or something more
worthy of his fame, a young scholar somewhat pertly called out to him,
"Suppose, Dr. Parr, you and I were to write a book together!" "Young
man," exclaimed the chafed lion, "if all were to be written in that
book which I _do_ know, and which you _do not_ know, it would be a
very large book indeed." The following are given by Field as his


He was once insisting on the importance of discipline, established by
a wise system, and enforced with a steady hand, in schools, in
colleges, in the navy, in the army; when he was somewhat suddenly and
rudely taken up by a young officer who had just received his
commission, and was not a little proud of his "blushing honours."
"What, sir," said he, addressing the Doctor, "do you mean to apply
that word _discipline_ to the _officers_ of the army? It may be well
enough for the _privates_." "Yes, sir, I do," replied the Doctor,
sternly: "It is _discipline_ makes the scholar, it is _discipline_
makes the soldier, it is _discipline_ makes the gentleman, and the
_want of discipline_ has made you what you are."


By the pert remarks of another tyro,--"Sir," said he, "your tongue
goes to work before your brain; and when your brain does work, it
generates nothing but error and absurdity." The maxim of men of
experience, the Doctor might have added, is, "to think twice before
they act once." To a third person, of bold and forward but
ill-supported pretensions, he said, "B----, you have read _little_,
thought _less_, and know _nothing_."


Like the more celebrated scholars and divines, Clarke, Paley,
Markland, &c., he would join an evening party at cards, always
preferring the old English game of whist, and resolutely adhering to
his early determination of never playing for more than a nominal
stake. Being once, however, induced to break through it, and play with
the late learned Bishop of Llandaff, Dr. Watson, for a _shilling_,
which he won, after pushing it carefully to the bottom of his pocket
and placing his hand upon it, with a kind of mock solemnity, he said,
"There, my lord Bishop, this is a trick of the devil; but I'll match
him; so now, if you please, we will play for a _penny_," and this was
ever after the amount of his stake, though he was not the less ardent
in pursuit of success, or less joyous on winning his rubber. Like our
great moralist, Johnson, he had an aversion to _punning_, saying, it
exposed the _poverty_ of a language. Yet he perpetrated the following


One day reaching a book from a shelf in his library, two others came
tumbling down, including a volume of Hume, upon which fell a critical
work of Lambert Bos: "See what has happened," exclaimed the Doctor,
"_procumbit humi bos_." At another time, too strong a current of air
being let into the room where he was sitting, suffering under the
effects of a slight cold, "Stop! stop!" said he, "this is too much; at
present I am only _par levibus ventis_." When he was solicited to
subscribe to Dr. Busby's translation of Lucretius, published at _a
high price_, he declined doing so, by observing, at the proposed cost
it would indeed be "Lucretius _carus_."


On proceeding to the degree of LL.D. at Cambridge, in 1781, Dr. Parr
delivered "in the law schools, before crowded audiences," says Field,
"two theses, of which the subject of the first was, _Hæres ex delicto
defuncti non tenetur_; and of the second, _Jus interpretandi leges
privatis, perinde ac principi, constat_. In the former of these, after
having offered a tribute of due respect to the memory of the late Hon.
Charles Yorke (the Lord Chancellor,) he strenuously opposed the
doctrine of that celebrated lawyer, laid down in his book upon 'the
law of forfeiture;' and denied the authority of those passages which
were quoted from the correspondence of Cicero and Brutus; because, as
he affirmed, after that learned and sagacious (Cambridge) critic,
Markland (in his Remarks on the Epistles of those two Romans,) the
correspondence itself is not genuine. The same liberal and enlightened
views of the natural and social rights of man pervaded the latter as
well as the former thesis; and in both were displayed such strength of
reasoning and power of language, such accurate knowledge of historical
facts and such clear comprehension of legal principles bearing on the
questions, that the whole audience listened with fixed and delighted
attention. The Professor of Law himself, Dr. Hallifax, afterwards
Bishop of St. Asaph, was so struck with the uncommon excellence of
these compositions, as to make it his particular request that they
should be given to the public; but with which request Dr. Parr could
not be persuaded to comply.


Reported of the Doctor," says Barker, in his Parriana, when on a visit
to Dr. Farmer, at Emanuel Lodge. He had made free in discourse with
some of the Fellow Commoners in the Combination-room, who, not being
able to cope with him, resolved to take vengeance in their own way;
they took his best wig, and thrust it into his boot: this
indispensable appendage of dress was soon called for, but could
nowhere be found, till the Doctor, preparing for his departure, and
proceeding, to put on his boots, found one of them pre-occupied, and
putting in his hand, drew forth the wig, with a loud shout--perhaps
[Greek: eurêka]." "When the late Dr. Watson," adds the same writer,
"presided in the divinity-schools, at


The reputation of whose great learning and ability caused the place to
be filled with the senior and junior members of the University, one of
the opponents was the late Dr. Coulthurst, and the debate was carried
on with great vigour and spirit. When this opponent had gone through
his arguments, the Professor rose, as usual, from his throne, and,
taking off his cap, cried out--

                         'Arcades ambo
  Et cantare pares, et respondere parati.'

We juniors, who happened to be present, were much pleased with the
application. Soon after, being in the Doctor's company, I mentioned
how much we were entertained with the whole scene, particularly with
the close: he smiled, and said, 'It is Warburton's,' where I soon
after found it."

       *       *       *       *       *


On a Cambridge beauty, daughter of an Alderman, made by the Rev. Hans
De Veil, son of Sir Thomas de Veil, and a Cantab:--

  "Is Molly Fowle immortal?--No.
  Yes, but she is--I'll prove her so:
  She's fifteen now, and was, I know,
  Fifteen full fifteen years ago."

       *       *       *       *       *


Sir John Heathcote, a Cantab, and lessee of Lincoln church, being
refused a renewal of the same on his own terms, by the Prebend, Dr.
Cobden, of St. John's College, Cambridge, upon accepting the Prebend's
terms, appointed his late Majesty, then Prince of Wales, to be one of
the lives included in the lease, observing, "I will nominate one for
whom the dog shall be obliged to pray in the daytime, wishing him dead
at night."

       *       *       *       *       *


A person might very well conclude, from the observations of the
enemies of our English Universities, that the governors of them had
the power of selecting the youth who are to graduate at them, or that,
of necessity, all men bred at either Oxford or Cambridge ought to be
alike distinguished for superior virtue and forbearance, great
learning, and great talents. They forget, that they must _take them as
they come_, like the boy in the anecdote. "So you are picking them
out, my lad," said a Cantab to a youth, scratching his head in the
street. "No," said the arch-rogue, "I takes 'em as they come." Just so
do the authorities at Oxford and Cambridge. I knew a son of Granta,
and eke, too,


Whose mind, at twenty, was a chaos, and must from his birth have been,
not as Locke would have supposed, a sheet of white paper, ready to
receive impressions, but one smeared and useless. Yet Solomon in all
his glory was not half so wise as was this scion in his mother's
opinion. She, therefore, brought him to Cambridge, and having
introduced him to the amiable tutor of St. John's College, smirkingly
asked him, "If he thought her _darling_ would be _senior wrangler_?"
"I don't know, madam," was his reply, in his short quick manner of
speaking, pulling up a certain portion of his dress, in the wearing of
which he resembled Sir Charles Wetherell, "I don't know, madam; that
remains to be seen." Poor fellow, he never could get a degree, nor
(after having been removed from Cambridge to the _Politechnique
School_ at Paris, for a year or two) could he ever get over the _Pons
Asinorum_ (as we Cantabs term the fifth proposition of the first book
of Euclid.) Another


And they are sure to miscalculate whenever they inter-meddle with such
matters, declined entering her two sons at Cambridge in the same year,
that, as she said, "They might not stand in each other's way." _Id
est_, they were to be both _senior wranglers_. They, however, never
caught sight of the _goal_. I recollect, on one occasion, the second
son being _floored_ in his college mathematical examination. He was
said to have afterwards carried home the paper (containing twenty-two
difficult geometrical and other problems,) when one of his sisters
snatched it out of his hand, exclaiming, "Give it to me," and, without
the slightest hesitation (in good Cambridge phrase,) she "_floored_"
the whole of them, to his dismay. This lady was one of a bevy of ten
beauties whom their mamma compassionately brought to Cambridge to
_dance_ with the young _gentlemen_ of the University at her parties,
and after so officiating for some three or four years, notwithstanding
they were all _Blues_, and had corresponding names, from _Britannia_
to _Boadicea_, the Cantabs suffered them all to depart _spinsters_.
But Papas also sometimes overrate their sons' talents and virtues. A
gentleman, a few years since, on


To the sub-rector of a certain College in Oxford, as a new member, did
so with the observation, "Sir, he is _modest_, _diffident_, and
_clever_, and will _be an example to the whole College_." "I am glad
of it," was the reply, "we want such men, and I am honoured, sir, by
your bringing him here." Papa made his exit, well pleased with our
Welshman's hospitality, for of that country our Sub-Rector, as well as
the gentleman in question was. The former, too, had been a chaplain in
Lord Nelson's fleet, in his younger days, and was not over orthodox in
his language, when _irritated_, though a man with a better heart it
would have puzzled the Grecian sage to have traced out by
candle-light. A month had scarcely passed over, when Papa, having
occasion to pass through Oxon, called on the Sub-Rector, of course,
and naturally inquired, "How his son demeaned himself?" "You told me,
sir," said the Sub-Rector, in a pet, and a speech such as the
quarter-deck of a man-of-war had schooled him in; "you told me, sir,
that your son was _modest_, but d--n his _modesty!_ you told me, sir,
he was _diffident_, but d--n his _diffidence!_ you told me, sir, he
was clever; he's the greatest dunce of the whole society! you told me,
sir, he would prove an example to the whole college: but I tell you,
sir, that he is neither _modest_, _diffident_ nor _clever_, and in
three weeks," added the Sub-Rector, raising his voice to a becoming
pitch, "he has ruined half the College by his example!" We can
scarcely do better than add to this, by way of tail-piece, from that
loyal Oxford scourge _Terræ Filius_ (ed. 1726)--(to be read, "cum
grano," and some allowance for the excited character of the times in
which it was written)--


  Being of age to play the fool,
  With muckle glee I left our school
                              At _Hoxton_;
  And, mounted on an easy pad,
  Rode with my mother and my dad
                              To _Oxon_.
  Conceited of my parts and knowledge,
  They entered me into a college
  The master took me first aside,
  Showed me a scrawl--I read, and cried
                              _Do Fidem_.
  Gravely he took me by the fist,
  And wished me well--we next request
                              A tutor.
  He recommends a staunch one, who
  In _Perkins'_ cause had been his Co-
  To see this precious stick of wood,
  I went (for so they deemed it good)
                              In fear, Sir;
  And found him swallowing loyalty,
  Six deep his bumpers, which to me
                              Seemed queer, Sir.
  He bade me sit and take my glass;
  I answered, looking like an ass,
                              I can't, Sir.
  Not drink!--You don't come here to pray!
  The merry mortal said, by way
                              Of answer.
  To pray, Sir! No, my lad; 'tis well!
  Come, here's our friend _Sacheverell_;
                              Here's _Trappy_!
  Here's _Ormond!_ _Marr!_ in short, so many
  Traitors we drank, it made my _crani-
                              um_ nappy.
  And now, the company dismissed,
  With this same sociable Priest,
                              Or Fellow,
  I sallied forth to deck my back
  With loads of _stuff_, and gown of black
  My back equipt, it was not fair
  My head should 'scape, and so, as square
                              As _chess-board_,
  A _cap_ I bought, my scull to screen,
  Of cloth without, and all within
                              Of _paste-board_.
  When metamorphosed in attire,
  More like a parson than a squire
                              They'd dressed me.
  I took my leave, with many a tear,
  Of _John_, our man, and parents dear,
                              Who blest me.
  The master said they might believe him,
  So righteously (the Lord forgive him!)
                              He'd govern.
  He'd show me the extremest love,
  Provided that I did not prove
                              Too stubborn.
  So far so good; but now _fresh fees_
  Began (for so the custom is)
                              My ruin.
  Fresh fees! with drink they knock you down;
  You spoil your clothes, and your new gown
                              You sp-- in.
  I scarce had slept--at six--tan tin
  The bell goes--servitor comes in--
                              Gives warning.
  I wished the scoundrel at old Nick;
  I puked, and went to prayers d--d sick
                              That morning.
  One who could come half drunk to prayer
  They saw was entered, and could swear
                              At random;
  Would bind himself, as they had done,
  To statutes, tho' he could not un-
                              derstand 'em.
  Built in the form of _pigeon-pye_,
  A house[A] there is for rooks to lie
                              And roost in.
  Their laws, their articles of grace,
  _Forty_, I think, save half a brace,
                              Was willing
  To swear to; swore, engaged my soul,
  And paid the _swearing broker_ whole
                              _Ten shilling_.
  Full half a pound I paid him down,
  To live in the most p--d town
                              O' th' nation:
  May it ten thousand cost _Lord Phyz_,
  For never forwarding his vis-

    [A] Theatre

       *       *       *       *       *


Is told, and, "in the days that are gone," is not at all improbable,
that a youth being brought to Oxon, after he had paid the Tutor and
other the several College and University fees, was told he must
_subscribe to the Thirty-nine Articles_; "with all my heart," said our
freshman, "pray how much is it?"

       *       *       *       *       *


To both tutors, scholars, scouts, gyps, and others, by their blunders.
They will not unfrequently, upon the first tingle of the college bell
(though it always rings a quarter of an hour, by way of warning, on
ordinary occasions, and half an hour on saints' days, in Cambridge,)
hurry off to hall or chapel, with their gowns the wrong side outwards,
or, their caps reversed, walk unconsciously along with the hind part
before, as I once heard a _soph_ observe, "the peak smelling thunder."
They are also very apt to mistake characters and functionaries:--I
have seen a freshman _cap_ the college-butler, taking him for _bursar_
at least. The persons to be so complimented are the Chancellor, the
Vice-Chancellor, the Proctors, the head of your college, and your
tutors. When the late Bishop Mansell was Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge,
he one day met two freshmen in Trumpington-street, who passed him
unheeded. The Bishop was not a man to '_bate_ an iota of his due, and
stopped them and asked, "If they knew he was the Vice-Chancellor?"
They blushingly replied, they did not, and begged his pardon for
omitting to _cap_ him, observing they _were freshmen_. "How long have
you been in Cambridge?" asked the witty Bishop. "Only eight days," was
the reply. "In that case I must excuse you; puppies never see till
they are _nine_ days old."

       *       *       *       *       *


Was unconsciously walking beyond the University church, on a Sunday
morning, which (at both Oxford and Cambridge) he would have been
expected to attend, when he was met by the Master of St. John's
College, Dr. Wood, who, by way of a mild rebuke, stopped him and asked
him, "If the way he was going led to St. Mary's Church?" "Oh, no,
sir," said he, with most lamb-like innocence, "this is the way,"
pointing in the opposite direction. "Keep straight on, you can't miss
it." The Doctor, however, having fully explained himself, preferred
taking him as a guide.

       *       *       *       *       *


Lords Stowel and Eldon both studied at Trinity College, Oxford, with
success, and, it is well known, there laid the foundation of that
fame, which, from the humble rank of the sons of a Newcastle
coal-fitter, raised them to the highest legal stations and the English
peerage. The former first graduated, and was elected a Fellow and
Tutor of All Soul's College (where he had the late Lord Tenterden for
a pupil) and became Camden Professor. The latter afterwards graduated
with a success that would have ensured him a fellowship and other
University distinctions, but visiting his native place soon after he
took A.B. he fell in love with Miss Surtees (the present Lady Eldon)
daughter of a then rich banker, in Newcastle, who returned his
affection, and they became man and wife. Her family were indignant,
and refused to be reconciled to the young pair, because the lady had,
as the phrase ran, "married below her station." Mr. Scott, the father,
was as much offended at the step his son had taken, which at once shut
him out from the chance of a fellowship, and refused them his
countenance. In this dilemma the new married pair sought the
friendship of Mr. William Scott (now Lord Stowell) at Oxford. His
heart, cast in a softer mould, readily forgave them,--his amiable
nature would not have permitted him to do otherwise. He received them
with a brotherly affection, pitied rather than condemned them, and is
said to have observed to some Oxford friends, "We must do something
for the poor _lost_ young man!" What a lesson is there not read to
mankind in the result! A harsher course might have led to ruin--the
milder one was the stepping-stone to the _woolsack and a peerage_.

       *       *       *       *       *


A Cantab visited some friends in the neighbourhood of Whissonset, near
Fakenham, Norfolk, during the life of the late rector of that parish,
who was then nearly ninety, and but little capable of attending to his
duty, but having married a young wife, _she_ would not allow him a
curate, but every Sunday drove him from Fakenham to the church. In
short he was hen-pecked. His clerk kept the village public-house, and
was not over-attentive to his duties. Our Cantab accompanied his
friends to church at the usual time, arriving at which they found
doors close; neither "Vicar or Moses" had arrived, nor did they appear
till half an hour after. Under these circumstances our Cantab threw
off the following epigram:

  Like o' Whissonset church
  In vain you'll search,
      The Lord be thanked for't:
  The parson is old,
  His wife's a scold,
      And the clerk sells beer by the quart.

  The people who go
  Are but so so,
      And but so so are the singers;
  They roar in our ears
  Like northern bears,
      And the devil take the ringers.

       *       *       *       *       *


Have been pretty nearly as arbitrary in our universities as with the
rest of the world. When John Goslin was Vice-Chancellor, he is said to
have made it


A student, however, undertook, for a small bet, to visit him in them,
and, to appease his wrath, he desired the doctor's advice for an
hereditary numbness in his legs. So far was the Vice-Chancellor from
expressing any anger, that he pitied him, and he won his wager.
Another vice-chancellor is said to have issued his mandate for all
members in statu pupillari, to appear in


The following singular order, as to dress and the excess thereof, was
issued by the great statesman, Cecil, Lord Burleigh, as chancellor of
the University of Cambridge, in the days of Elizabeth, which is
preserved in the _Liber Niger_, or Black-book, extant in the Cambridge
University Library. The paper is dated "from my house in Strand, this
seventhe of May, 1588," and runs thus:--1. "That no hat be worne of
anie graduate or scholler within the said universitie (except it shall
be when he shall journey owte of the towne, or excepte in the time of
his sickness.) All graduates were to weare square caps of clothe; and
schollers, not graduates, round cloth caps, saving that it may be
lawful for the sonnes of noblemen, or the sonnes and heirs of knights,
to weare round caps of velvet, but no hats."

2. "All graduates shall weare abroade in the universitie going owte of
his colledg, a gowne and a hoode of cloth, according to the order of
his degree. Provided that it shall be lawful for everie D.D., and for
the Mr. of anie coll. to weare a sarcenet tippet of velvet, according
to the anciente customes of this realme, and of the saide universitie.
The whiche gowne, tippet, and square caps, the saide Drs. and heads
shall be likewise bound to weare, when they shall resorte eyther to
the courte, or to the citie of London."

3. "And that the excesse of shirt bands and ruffles, exceeding an
ynche and halfe (saving the sonnes of noblemen,) the fashion and
colour other than white, be avoided presentlie; and no scholler, or
fellowe of the foundation of anie house of learninge, do weare eyther
in the universitie or without, &c., anie hose, stockings, dublets,
jackets, crates, or jerknees, or anie other kynde of garment, of
velvet, satin, or silk, or in the facing of the same shall have above
a 1/4 of a yard of silke, or shall use anie other light kynde of
colour, or cuts, or gards, of fashion, the which shall be forbidden by
the Chancellor," &c.

4th. "And that no scholler doe weare anie long lockes of hair vppon
his head, but that he be notted, pouled, or rounded, after the
accustomed manner of the gravest schollers of the saide universitie."
The penalty for every offence against these several orders being six
shillings and eightpence: the sum in which offenders are mulcted in
the present day.


Has been not less varied, or less subject to animadversion, than the
dress of the members of the universities. The fashion of wearing long
hair, so peculiar in the reign of Charles II., was called the APOLLO.
His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, the present Chancellor of
the University of Cambridge, "was an Apollo" during the whole of his
residence at Trinity College, says the _Gradus ad Cant_. Indeed his
royal highness, who was noted for his personal beauty at that time,
was "the last in Cambridge who wore his hair after that fashion." "I
can remember," says the pious Archbishop Tillotson, as cited by the
above writer, discoursing on this HEAD, viz. _of hair_! "since the
wearing the hair _below_ the ears was looked upon as _a sin of the
first magnitude_; and when ministers generally, whatever their text
was, did either find, or make, occasion to reprove the great _sin_ of
long hair: and if they saw any one in the congregation guilty in that
kind, they would point him out particularly, and _let fly_ at him with
great zeal." And we can remember, since wearing the hair _cropt_, i.
e. _above_ the ears, was looked upon, though not as "a sin," yet, as a
very vulgar and RAFFISH sort of a thing; and when the _doers_ of
newspapers exhausted all their wit in endeavouring to rally the
new-raised corps of CROPS, regardless of the late noble Duke (of
Bedford) who headed them; and, when the rude rank-scented rabble, if
they saw any one in the streets, whether time or the tonsor had
thinned his flowing hair, they would point him out particularly and
"_let fly at him_," as the archbishop says, till not a shaft of
ridicule remained! The tax upon hair-powder has now, however, produced
all over the country very plentiful CROPS. Charles II., who, as his
_worthy friend_ the Earl of Rochester, remarked,

  ---- never said a foolish thing;
  Nor ever _did_ a wise one,

sent a letter to the University of Cambridge, forbidding the members
to wear _periwigs_, smoke tobacco, and read their sermons!! It is
needless to remark, that TOBACCO has not yet made its EXIT IN FUMO,
and that _periwigs_ still continue to adorn "THE HEADS OF HOUSES."
Till the present all-prevailing, all-_accommodating_ fashion of CROPS
became general in the university, no young man presumed to dine in
hall till he had previously received a handsome trimming from the
hair-dresser (one of which calling was a special appointment to each
college.) The following inimitable imitation of "The Bard" of Gray, is
ascribed to the pen of the late Lord Erskine, when a fellow-commoner
of Trinity College, Cambridge. Having been disappointed of the
attendance of his college-barber, he was compelled to forego his
_commons_ in hall. But determining to have his revenge, and give his
hair-dresser a good DRESSING, he sat down and penned the following
"Fragment of a Pindaric Ode," wherein, "in imitation of the despairing
Bard of Gray, who prophesied the destruction of King Edward's race, he
poured forth his curses upon the whole race of barbers, predicting
their ruin in the simplicity of a future generation."


  Ruin seize thee, scoundrel Coe!
    Confusion on thy frizzing wait;
  Hadst thou the only comb below,
    Thou never more shouldst touch my pate.
  Club, nor queue, nor twisted tail,
  Nor e'en thy chatt'ring, barber! shall avail
  To save thy horse-whipp'd back from daily fears,
  From Cantab's curse, from Cantab's tears!
  Such were the sounds that o'er the powder'd pride
    Of Coe the barber scattered wild dismay,
  As down the steep of Jackson's slippery lane,
    He wound with puffing march his toilsome, tardy way.


  In a room where Cambridge town
    Frowns o'er the kennel's stinking flood,
  Rob'd in a flannel powd'ring gown,
    With haggard eyes poor Erskine stood;
  (Long his beard and blouzy hair
  Stream'd like an old wig to the troubled air;)
  And with clung guts, and face than razor thinner,
  Swore the loud sorrows of his dinner.
  Hark! how each striking clock and tolling bell,
  With awful sounds, the hour of eating tell!
  O'er thee, oh Coe! their dreadful notes they wave,
  Soon shall such sounds proclaim thy yawning grave;
  Vocal in vain, through all this ling'ring day,
  The grace already said, the plates all swept away.


  Cold is Beau * * tongue,
    That soothed each virgin's pain;
  Bright perfumed M * * has cropp'd his head:
    Almacks! you moan in vain.
  Each youth whose high toupee
    Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-cropt head,
  In humble Tyburn-top we see;
    Esplashed with dirt and sun-burnt face;
    Far on before the ladies mend their pace,
  The Macaroni sneers, and will not see.
  Dear lost companions of the coxcomb's art,
    Dear as a turkey to these famished eyes,
  Dear as the ruddy port which warms my heart,
    Ye sunk amidst the fainting Misses' cries.
  No more I weep--they do not sleep:
    At yonder ball a slovenly band,
  I see them sit, they linger yet,
    Avengers of fair Nature's hand;
  With me in dreadful resolution join,
  To CROP with one accord, and starve their cursed line.


  Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
    The winding-sheet of barber's race;
  Give ample room, and verge enough,
    Their lengthened lanthorn jaws to trace.
  Mark the year, and mark the night,
  When all their shops shall echo with affright;
  Loud screams shall through St. James's turrets ring,
  To see, like Eton boy, the king!
  Puppies of France, with unrelenting paws,
    That crape the foretops of our aching heads;
  No longer England owns thy fribblish laws,
    No more her folly Gallia's vermin feeds.
  They wait at Dover for the first fair wind,
  Soup-meagre in the van, and snuff roast-beef behind.


  Mighty barbers, mighty lords,
    Low on a greasy bench they lie!
    No pitying heart or purse affords
    A sixpence for a mutton-pye!
  Is the mealy 'prentice fled?
  Poor Coe is gone, all supperless to bed.
  The swarm that in thy shop each morning sat,
  Comb their lank hair on forehead flat:
  Fair laughs the morn, when all the world are beaux,
    While vainly strutting through a silly land,
  In foppish train the puppy barber goes;
    Lace on his shirt, and money at command,
  Regardless of the skulking bailiff's sway,
  That, hid in some dark court, expects his evening prey.


  The porter-mug fill high,
    Baked curls and locks prepare;
  Reft of our heads, they yet by wigs may live,
    Close by the greasy chair
  Fell thirst and famine lie,
  No more to art will beauteous nature give.
    Heard ye the gang of Fielding say,
  Sir John,[7] at last we've found their haunt,
  To desperation driv'n by hungry want,
    Thro' the crammed laughing Pit they steal their way.
  Ye tow'rs of Newgate! London's lasting shame,
    By many a foul and midnight murder fed,
  Revere poor Mr. Coe, the blacksmith's[8] fame,
    And spare the grinning barber's chuckle head.


  Rascals! we tread thee under foot,
    (Weave we the woof, the thread is spun;)
  Our beards we pull out by the root;
    (The web is wove, your work is done.)
  "Stay, oh, stay! nor thus forlorn
  Leave me uncurl'd, undinner'd, here to mourn."
  Thro' the broad gate that leads to College Hall,
  They melt, they fly, they vanish all.
  But, oh! what happy scenes of pure delight,
    Slow moving on their simple charms unroll!
  Ye rapt'rous visions! spare my aching sight,
    Ye unborn beauties, crowd not on my soul!
  No more our long-lost Coventry we wail:
  All hail, ye genuine forms; fair nature's issue, hail!


  Not frizz'd and frittered, pinned and rolled,
    Sublime their artless locks they wear,
  And gorgeous dames, and judges old,
    Without their tetes and wigs appear.
  In the midst a form divine,
  Her dress bespeaks the Pennsylvania line;
  Her port demure, her grave, religious face,
  Attempered sweet to virgin grace.
  What sylphs and spirits wanton through the air!
    What crowds of little angels round her play!
  Hear from thy sepulchre, great Penn! oh, hear!
    A scene like this might animate thy clay.
  Simplicity now soaring as she sings,
  Waves in the eye of heaven her Quaker-coloured wings.


      No more toupees are seen
    That mock at Alpine height,
  And queues, with many a yard of riband bound,
    All now are vanished quite.
      No tongs or torturing pin,
  But every head is trimmed quite snug around:
    Like boys of the cathedral choir,
  Curls, such as Adam wore, we wear;
  Each simpler generation blooms more fair,
    Till all that's artificial expire.
  Vain puppy boy! think'st thou you essenced cloud,
    Raised by thy puff, can vie with _Nature's_ hue?
  To-morrow see the variegated crowd
    With ringlets shining like the morning dew.
  Enough for me: with joy I see
    The different dooms our fates assign;
  Be thine to love thy trade and starve,
    To wear what heaven bestowed be mine.
  He said, and headlong from the trap-stairs' height,
  Quick thro' the frozen street he ran in shabby plight.

    [7] Sir John Fielding, the late active police magistrate.

    [8] Coe's father, the well-known blacksmith and alderman, now
    no more.

Whilst we are discussing the subject of hair, we ought not to forget
that, according to Lyson's Environs of London,


was Archbishop Tillotson. In the great dining-room of Lambeth Palace,
he says, there are portraits of all the Archbishops, from Laud to the
present time, in which may be observed the gradual change of the
clerical habit, in the article of wigs. Archbishop Tillotson was the
first prelate that wore a wig, which then was not unlike the natural
hair, and worn without powder. In 1633, 21 James 1st,


"Care was taken," says Wood, "that formalities in public assemblies
should be used, which, through negligence, were now, and sometime
before, left off. That the wearing of boots and spurs also be
prohibited, 'a fashion' (as our Chancellor saith in his letters) rather
befitting the liberties of the Inns of Court than the strictness of an
academical life, which fashion is not only usurped by the younger
sort, but by the Masters of Arts, who preposterously assume that part
of the Doctor's formalities which adviseth them to ryde _ad
prædicandum Evangelium_, but in these days implying nothing else but
_animum deserendi studium_." It was therefore ordered, "that no person
that wears a gown wear boots; if a graduate, he was to forfeit 2_s._
6_d._ for the first time of wearing them, after order was given to the
contrary; for the second time 5_s._, and so toties quoties. And if an


Or other punishment, according to the will of the Vice-Chancellor and
Proctors, for every time he wore them." And in 1608, when


Became Chancellor of Oxford, he decreed amongst other things, "that
indecency of attire be left off, and academical habits be used in
public assemblies, being now more remissly looked to than in former
times. Also, that no occasion of offence be given, long hair was not
to be worn; for whereas in the reign of Queen Elizabeth few or none
wore their hair longer than their ears (for they that did so were
accounted by the graver and elder sort swaggerers and ruffians,) now
it was common even among scholars, who were to be examples of modesty,
gravity, and decency."

       *       *       *       *       *


Which his college friend, Dyer, has given in his Supplement, under the
head "SERIA LUDO," with the happy, original motto--

  With serious truths we mix a little fun,
  And now and then we treat you with a pun.

The subject of the epigram, he says (the original of which Mr. W. sent
to a friend,) "was Mr. Foster, formerly of Cambridge, who, on account
of his rapidity in conversation, in walking, and more particularly in
the exercise of his profession, was called (by the Cantabs) _the
Flying Barber_. He was a great oddity, and gave birth to many a piece
of fun in the university:--

  Tonsor ego: vultus radendo spumcus albet,
    Mappa subest, ardet culter, et unda tepet.
  Quam versat gladium cito dextra, novacula levis,
    Mox tua tam celeri strinxerit ora manu.
  Cedite, Romani Tonsores, cedite Graii;
    Tonsorem regio non habet ulla parem.
  Imberbes Grantam, barbati accedite Grantam;
    Illa polit mentes; et polit illa genas.

       *       *       *       *       *


The men of St. John's College, Cambridge, like every other society in
both Oxford and Cambridge, have their _soubriquet_. From what cause
they obtained that of "Johnian Hogs" is yet scarcely settled, though
much has been written thereon, extant in _The Gradus ad Cant., Facetiæ
Cant._, and _The Cambridge Tart_. It proved of some service, however,
to a wag of the society (and to them the merit of punning was conceded
in the Spectator's time,) in giving him an idea for a name for the
elegant one-arched covered bridge which joins the superb Gothic court
they have lately added to the fine old college, after the designs of
Messrs. Hutchinson and Rickman of Birmingham. The question was
discussed at a wine party, and one proposed calling it the "Bridge of
Sighs," as it led to most of the tutors' and deans' rooms, from whom
issued all _impositions_ (punishments,) &c. "I have it!" exclaimed a
wag, his eyes beaming brighter than his sparkling glass--"I have it!
Call it the ISTHMUS OF SUEZ!" Id est _The Hog's Isthmus_, from the
Latin word _sus_, a sow, which makes _suis_ in the genitive case, and
proves our Johnian to be a punster worthy of his school.

       *       *       *       *       *


Mr. Jones, of Welwyn, relates, on the authority of Old Mr. Bunburry,
of Brazen-nose College, that Bishop Kennett, when a young man, being
one of the Oxford Pro-Proctors, and a very active one, about James the
Second's reign, going his rounds one evening, found a company of
gownsmen engaged on a _drinking bout_, to whom his then high church
principles were notorious (though he afterwards changed them, sided
with Bishop Hoadley, and obtained the _soubriquet_ of _weather-cock
Kennett_.) When he entered the room, he reprimanded them for keeping
such late hours, especially over the bottle, rather than over their
studies in their respective colleges, and ordered them to disperse.
One in the company, who knew his political turn, addressed him with,
"Mr. Proctor, you will, I am sure, excuse us when I say, we were met
to _drink prosperity to the church_, to which _you_ can have no
objection." "Sir," was his answer, with a solemn air, "we are to
_pray_ for the church, and to _fight_ for the church, not to _drink_
for the church." Upon which the company paid their reckoning and
dispersed. There is a curious print in the Library of the
Antiquarians, of an altar-piece, which the rector of Whitechapel, Dr.
Walton, caused to be painted and put up in his church, representing
Christ and his twelve apostles eating the passover, wherein Bishop
Kennett (the "Traitor Dean," as his siding with Hoadley caused him to
be designated) is painted as _Judas_.

       *       *       *       *       *


When a late master of Richmond School, Yorkshire, came, a _raw_ lad in
his teens, to matriculate at Trinity College, Cambridge, he was
invited to dinner by his tutor, and happened to be seated opposite
some boiled fowls, which, having just emptied a plate of his _quantum_
of fish, he was requested to _carve_. He accordingly took one on his
plate, but not being a _carver_, he leisurely ate the whole of it,
_minus_ the bones, not at all disconcerted by the smiles of the other
guests: and when the cheese appeared, and his host cut a plateful for
him to pass round the table, he coolly set to and eat the whole
himself. He, notwithstanding, proved a good scholar, and distinguished
himself both in classics and mathematics, is now a canon residentiary
of St. Paul's, and a very worthy divine, who has earned his
reputation, preferments, and dignities by his merits only.

       *       *       *       *       *


The following effusion of humour was the production of a very pleasant
fellow, an Oxford scholar, now no more, who, says Angelo, in his
Reminiscences, "was a great favourite among his brother collegians,"
and a humourist:--"Lost £10 this morning, May 15, 1808, in Peckwater
Quadrangle, near No. 6. Any nobleman, gentleman, common student, or
commoner, who will, as soon as possible, bring the same back to the
afflicted loser, shall, with pleasure, receive _ten guineas_ reward; a
suitor shall receive _five_ guineas; and a scout or porter, _one_
guinea. The notes were all Bank of England notes, I only received
this morning from my father. My name is ----, and I lodge at ----,
facing Tom Gate, where I am anxiously waiting for some kind friend to
bring them to me.--_Vivant Rex et Regina_."

       *       *       *       *       *


Is an epithet applied to those members who, after graduating at one
proceeds to a like degree at the other. A party one day disputing as
to whether Oxford or Cambridge was the more distinguished seat of
learning,--"It can't affect me," exclaimed one of them, "for I was
educated at both." Upon which a wag observed, "He reminded him of a
calf that was suckled by two cows." "How so?" said the other. "Why, it
turned out the greatest _calf_ I ever knew," was the retort.

       *       *       *       *       *

Amongst the musical professors of Cambridge, and not the least, who
was organist of King's College also, in the beginning of the
eighteenth century, was Dr. Thomas Tudway. He was a notorious wag, and
when several of the members of the University of Cambridge expressed
their discontent at the paucity of the patronage, and the rigour of
the government of the "proud Duke of Somerset," whose statue graces
their senate house, he facetiously observed--

  "_The Chancellor rides us all without a bit in our mouths._"


In him the passion for punning was strong in death, though less
profane. When he laid dangerously ill of the quinsy (of which he soon
after died,) his physician, seeing some hope, turned from his patient
to Mrs. Tudway, who was weeping in despair at his danger, and
observed, "Courage, madam! the Dr. will get up May-hill yet, he has
swallowed some nourishment." Upon which Dr. Tudway said, as well as
his disease would permit him to articulate, "Don't mind him, my dear:
one swallow don't make a summer."

       *       *       *       *       *


The Rev. Charles Godwyn, B.D., Fellow of Baliol College, grandson to
Dr. Francis G., Bishop of Hereford, in a letter, dated March 14, 1768,
printed in Nichols's Anecdotes, says, "a very sad affair has happened"
at Oxford. "The principal of Edmund Hall (Dr. George Dixon) has been
indiscreet enough to admit into his hall, by the recommendation of
Lady Huntingdon, seven London tradesmen, one a tapster, another a
barber, &c. They have little or no learning, but all of them have a
high opinion of themselves, as being _ambassadors of King Jesus_. One
of them, upon that title conferred by himself, has been a preacher.
Complaint was made to the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. David Durell (principal
of Hertford College,) I believe, by the Bishop of Oxford; and he, in
his own right, as Vice-Chancellor, had last week a visitation of the
hall. Some of the preaching tradesmen were found so void of learning,
that they were expelled from the hall."

       *       *       *       *       *


Robert Austin, a Fellow of King's College, Cambridge, was amanuensis
to the famous Arabic professor, Wheelock, who employed him in
correcting the press of his _Persic Gospels_, the first of the kind
ever printed, with a Latin translation and notes. Of this surprising
young man, he says, "in the space of two months, not knowing a letter
in Arabic or Persic at the beginning, he sent a letter to me in
Norfolk, of peculiar passages, so that of his age I never met with the
like; and his indefatigable patience, and honesty, or ingenuity,
exceed, if possible, his capacity." But his immoderate application
brought on a derangement of mind, and he died early in 1654.

       *       *       *       *       *


When Queen Elizabeth was questioned on the subject of her faith in the
Sacrament, she dexterously avoided giving offence by replying--

  "Christ was the word that spake it,
  He took the bread and brake it,
  And what his word did make it,
  That I believe, and take it."

Scarcely less ingenious was the reply of Bishop Hallifax, when Regius
Professor of Civil Law at Cambridge, upon Dr. Parr and the Rev. Joseph
Smith (both resident at Stanmore) applying to him for his judgment on
a literary dispute between them. His response was in the following
official language, by which he dexterously avoided the imputation of

  "_Nolo interponere judicium meum._"

His name reminds me that he married a _Cooke_, the daughter of Dr.
William Cooke, Provost of King's College, Cambridge, for whom George
the Third had so great a regard, that he extended it to his children.
The Bishop and his wife being at Cheltenham when the King was there,
and some person asking why his Majesty paid Dr. Hallifax such marked
respect, was answered, "Sir, he married a _Cooke_." This being in the
presence of


"I, too," he facetiously remarked, "have a claim to his Majesty's
attention, for I married _a cook_," alluding to the fact, that his
second wife originally held that rank in his domestic establishment.

       *       *       *       *       *


A Pembrokian Cantab, named Penlycross, having written an Essay, a
candidate for the Norrisian prize (which it was necessary he should
subscribe with a Greek or Latin motto, as well as a sealed letter,
enclosing his name, after being for a time at a loss for one,) and
having an ominous _presentiment_ of its rejection, he seized his pen
and subscribed the following on both:

  "Distichon ut poscas nolente, volente, Minerva,
  Mos sacer? Unde mihi distichon? En perago."

  "Without a distich, vain the oration is;
  Oh! for a distich! Doctor, e'en take this."

       *       *       *       *       *


The author of the Pursuits of Literature ridicules the epithet
"Skeleton Sermons," as "ridiculous and absurd," speaking of those of
the Rev. Charles Simeon, M.A. now Senior Fellow of King's College.
When, in 1796, that divine published his edition of _Claude's Essay on
a Sermon, with an Appendix containing one hundred Skeleton Sermons_,
the celebrated Dr. William Cooke, father of the late Regius Professor
of Greek, was Provost of King's, and to him, as in duty bound, Mr.
Simeon presented a copy. The Provost read it with his natural
appearance of a proud and dignified humility, and, struck with the
unfortunate and somewhat ludicrous title of _Skeleton Sermons_,
"Skeletons! skeletons!" he exclaimed, in his significant way, "Shall
these dry bones live?" What would the Provost have thought and said,
had he lived to see an edition of them in ten volumes 4to. price ten

       *       *       *       *       *


The present Vice-Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, being told that
one of his pupils, the author of "ALMA MATER," had therein published
his bill, coolly replied, "I wish he had paid it first." Another
Cantab had--


Which unluckily stood in the church-yard, and it happening to be a
saint's day, the congregation were at prayers, of which he was
ignorant, when he got a friend to put him in. His friend sauntered
away, whether wilfully or not I leave my readers to guess, and he was
in vain struggling to release himself, when the congregation issued
forth, who were not a little _moved_ at his situation. Many laughed,
but one, an old woman, compassionately released him. A similar story
is told of the celebrated son of Granta,


Who had afterwards to try a cause in which the plaintiff had brought
his action against a magistrate for falsely imprisoning him in the
stocks. The counsel for the defence arguing that the action was a
frivolous one, on the ground that the stocks were no punishment, his
Lordship beckoned his learned brother to him, and told him, in his
ear, that having himself been put in the stocks, he could assure him
it was no such slight punishment as he represented, and the plaintiff
obtained a verdict against the magistrate in consequence.

       *       *       *       *       *


Parker says, in his Musical Memoirs, that the Oxford scholars once
hissed Madame Mara, conceiving she assumed too much importance in her
bearing. No wonder they so treated Signor Samperio, one evening at a
concert, attracted, when he came forward to sing, by his "tall, lank
figure, sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, and shrill voice;" in fact, they
hissed him off before he had half got through his cavatina. The
gentleman who acted as steward was deeply moved at his situation, and,
going up to Samperio, endeavoured to soothe him. But the signor, not
at all hurt, replied, "O, sare, never mind; dey may hissa me as much
as dey please, if I getti di money." Another anecdote is told of--


The late musical professor, who was some six feet high, and scarcely
inferior in bulk to the famous Essex miller. He had at last so much
difficulty in getting in and out of a stage coach, that whenever he
went from Oxford to London to conduct the annual performances at St.
Paul's, for the benefit of the Sons of the Clergy, which he did for
many years _gratis_, his custom was to engage a whole seat to himself,
and when once in and seated to remain so till the end of the journey.
The fact became known to two Oxford wags, who resolved to _pose_ the
Doctor, and to that end engaged the other two inside places, and
taking care to be there before him, seated themselves in the opposite
corners, one to the right the other to the left, and there the Doctor
found them, on arriving to take his place. "How was he to dispose of
his _corpus_?" was the query: they had a clear right to their seats,
and no alternative seemed left him, as they declined moving, but to
place his head in one corner and his feet in the other. At last our
Oxonians, having fully enjoyed the _dilemma_ in which they had placed
the Doctor, consented to give way, confessed their purpose, and even
the Doctor had the good sense to laugh at his own expense.

       *       *       *       *       *


When the celebrated Cantab, and editor of _Lucretius_, Gilbert
Wakefield, was convicted of a _libel_ before the late Judge _Grose_,
who sentenced him to fine and imprisonment, turning from the bar, he
said, with the spirit of a Frenchman, it was--"_gross_ indeed." To the
same learned Cantab, Dyer attributes the following--


Being asked once his opinion of the poetry of _Pye_, the then Poet
Laureat, his reply was, that he thought very _handsomely_ of some of
Mr. P.'s poems, which he had read. This did not suffice, and he was
pressed for his opinion of the Laureat-Ode that had just appeared in
the public prints. Not having seen it, he desired his friend to read
it to him, and the introductory lines containing something about the
_singing of birds_, Wakefield abruptly silenced him with this happy
allusion to the Laureat's name, in the following nursery rhymes:--

  "And when the pie was opened,
    The birds began to sing:
  And was not this a dainty dish
    To set before a king."

       *       *       *       *       *


Begun with John Alcock, LL.D., Bishop of Ely, and founder of Jesus

  "Garrulus hunc quando consumet cunq; loquaces,
  Si sapiat, vitet, simul atque adoluerit ætas."

In 1483, says Wilson, in his Memorabilia Cantabrigiæ, he preached
before the University "_Bonum et blandum sermonem prædicavit, et
duravit in horam tertiam et ultra_," which is supposed to be a sermon
that was printed in his lifetime, in 1498, by the famous Pynson,
entitled, "_Galli Cantus ad Confratres suos Curatos in Synodo, apud
Barnwell, 25th September_, 1498," at the head of which is a print of
the Bishop preaching to the Clergy, with a cock at each side, and
another in the first page. The next most celebrated preacher of this
class was


The friend, partly tutor, and most learned contemporary of Newton,
whom Charles the Second said was an unfair preacher, leaving nothing
new to be said by those who followed him. He was once appointed, upon
some public occasion, to preach before the Dean and Chapter in
Westminster Abbey, and gave them a discourse of nearly four hours in
length. During the latter part of it, the congregation became so tired
of sitting, that they dropped out, one by one, till scarcely another
creature besides the Dean and choristers were left. Courtesy kept the
Dean in his place, but soon his patience got the better of his

  "Verba per attentam non ibunt Cæsaris aurem,"

and beckoning one of the singing boys, he desired him to go and tell
the organist to play him down, which was done. When asked, on
descending from the pulpit, if he did not feel exhausted, he replied,
"No; only a little tired with standing so long." A third "long-winded
preacher" (and they were never admired at either Oxford or Cambridge,
where "short and sweet" is preferred) was


He delivered his justly celebrated SPITAL SERMON in the accustomed
place, Christ-Church, Newgate Street, Easter Tuesday, 1800, before his
friend, Harvey Christian Combe, Esq., M.P., the celebrated brewer,
then Lord Mayor. "Before the service begun," says one of his friends,
"I went into the vestry, and found Dr. Parr seated, with pipes and
tobacco placed before him on the table. He evidently felt the
importance of the occasion, but felt, at the same time, a confidence
in his own powers. When he ascended the pulpit, a profound silence
prevailed. The sermon occupied nearly an hour and a quarter in the
delivery; and in allusion to its extreme length, it was remarked by a
lady, who had been asked her opinion of it, "enough there is, and more
than enough"--the first words of its first sentence,--a _bon mot_ he
is said to have received with good humour. As he and the Lord Mayor
were coming out of the church, the latter, albeit unused to the
facetious mode, "Well," said Dr. Parr to him, always anxious for
well-merited praise, "how did you like the sermon? Let me have the
suffrage of your strong and honest understanding." "Why, Doctor,"
returned his lordship, "there were four things in your sermon I did
_not_ like to hear." "State them," replied Parr, eagerly. "Why, to
speak frankly, then," said Combe, "they were the quarters of the
church clock, which struck four times before you had finished it." "I
once saw, lying in the Chapter Coffee-house," says Dyer, in a letter
printed in Parriana, "the Doctor's _Spital Sermon_, with a comical
caricature of him, in the pulpit, preaching and smoking at the same
time, with _ex fumo dare lucem_ issuing from his mouth."


At Cambridge, and eke at Oxford, have taken an opposite course, and
from their being to be had at all times, have at the former place,
obtained the _soubriquet_ "Hack Preachers." In the _Gradus ad
Cantabrigiam_, they are described as "the common _exhibitioners_ at
St. Mary's, employed in the service of defaulters and absentees. It
must be confessed, however," adds this writer, "that these HACKS are
good fast _trotters_, as they commonly go over the course in twenty
minutes, and sometimes less." Gilbert Wakefield, whom nobody will
suspect of forbearance, calls them, in his Memoirs, "a piteous,
unedifying tribe." This, however, can scarcely be applied to the
ordinary preachers of the present day, and especial care is taken by
the heads of the university that the _select_ preachers (one of whom
is named for each month during term-time) do not name substitutes
themselves. The following poetic _jeu d'esprit_, entitled "_Lines on
three of the appointed Preachers of St. Mary's, Cambridge, attacking
Calvin_" were no others than the three eminent living divines, Dr.
Butler, Dr. Maltby, Bishop of Chichester, and Dr. Herbert Marsh,
Bishop of Peterborough:--

  "Three Preachers, in three distant counties born,
  The Church of England's doctrines do adorn:
  Harsh Calvin's mystic tenets were their mark,
  Founded in texts perverted, gloomy, dark.
  _Butler_ in clearness and in force surpassed,
  _Maltby_ with sweetness spoke of ages past;
  Whilst _Marsh_ himself, who scarce could further go,
  With _Criticism's_ fetters bound the foe."

This _punning_ morsel, of some _standing_ in the university, is scarce
surpassed by Hood himself:--


  Old Doctor Delve, a scribbling quiz,
    Afraid of critics' jibes,
  By turns assumes the various phiz
    Of three old classic scribes.

  Though now with high erected head,
    And lordly strut he'll go by us,
  He once made lawyers' robes, 'tis said,
    And called himself _Mac-robius_.

  Last night I asked the man to sup,
    Who showed a second alias;
  He gobbled _all my jellies up_,
    O greedy _Aulus Gellius_.

  On Sunday, arrogant and proud,
    He purrs like any tom-puss,
  And reads the Word of _God so loud_,
    He must be _Theo-pompus_.

       *       *       *       *       *


The family of the Spintexts have, it appears, very lately put forth a
_scion_, in the person of a learned divine, a Fellow of Trinity
College, Cambridge, who, being appointed a _Select Preacher_ in 1835,
delivered a discourse of the extraordinary duration of an _hour and a
half_! The present Father of the University and Master of Peter-house,
Dr. Francis Barnes, upwards of ninety years of age, was one of the
heads present. He sat out the first three quarters of an hour, but
then began to be _fidgetty_. Another quarter of an hour expired,--the
preacher was still in the _midst_ of his discourse. The Doctor (now
become right down impatient,) being seated the lowest (next to the
Vice-Chancellor) in _Golgotha_, or the "Place of Skulls," as it is
called, he moved, first one seat higher (the preacher is still on his
legs,) then to a third, then to a fourth, then to a fifth; and before
the hour and a half had quite expired, he joined one of the junior
esquire bedells at the top, to whom he observed, with that original
expression of face for which he is so remarkable, "my beef is burnt to
a cinder."

       *       *       *       *       *


According to the first volume of the Librarian, published by Mr.
Savage, of the London Institution; who says, that the first work
printed on the subject was by Dr. Timothy Bright, of Cambridge, in
1598, who dedicated it to Queen Elizabeth, under the title of "An art
of short, swift, and secret writing, by Character."

       *       *       *       *       *


Before the erection of the Senate-House in the University of
Cambridge, the annual grand Commencement was held in St. Mary's, the
University church. "It seems," says Dyer, in his History of Cambridge,
"that on these occasions (the time when gentlemen take their degrees")
that is, the degree of M.A. more particularly, "ladies had been
allowed to sit in that part of the church assigned to the doctors,
called THE THRONE: it was, however, at length agreed amongst them (the
doctors) that ladies should be no longer permitted to sit there; and
the place assigned to them was under the throne, in the church."
This invasion of what the fair almost looked upon as the abstraction
of a right, led to a partial war of words and inuendos, and the matter
was at last taken up by the facetious Roger Long, D.D., Master of
Pembroke College, who, he adds, in his Supplement to his History, was
celebrated for his Treatise on Astronomy, and for his erection of a
sphere in his College eighteen feet in diameter, still shown there. On
this humorous occasion, he was a dissentient against the Heads, not a
little bustle was excited amongst the Cambridge ladies, a subject for
a few jokes was afforded the wags of the University, and he produced
his famous music-speech, spoken at the public Commencement of 1714, on
the 6th of July, which was afterwards published, but is now very
scarce. It was delivered in an assumed character, as "being the
PETITION OF THE LADIES OF CAMBRIDGE," and is full of whim and humour,
in Swift's best manner, beginning--

  "The humble petition of the ladies, who are all ready to be eaten
          up with the spleen,
  To think they are to be cooped up in the Chancel, where they can
          neither see nor be seen,
  But must sit in the dumps by themselves, all stew'd and pent up,
  And can only peep through the lattice, like so many chickens in
          a coop;
  Whereas last Commencement the ladies had a gallery provided near
  To see the heads sleep, and the fellow-commoners take snuff."

"How he could have delivered it in so sacred a place as St. Mary's,"
says Dyer, "is matter of surprise (though they say, good fun, like
good coin, is current any where.") It is pleasant to see a grave man
descend from his heights, as Pope says, "to guard the fair." Though
nobody could probably be much offended at the time, unless the
Vice-Chancellor, whom, if we understand the writer's meaning, he calls
_an old woman_, when he says--

  "Such cross ill-natured doings as these are, even a saint would vex,
  To see a Vice-Chancellor so barbarous to one of his own sex."

But the Doctor had


As is further illustrated by the celebrated Mr. Jones, of Welwyn, who
calls him "a very ingenious person." "At the public Commencement of
1713," he says, "Dr. Greene (Master of Bene't College, and afterwards
Bishop of Ely) being then Vice-Chancellor, Mr. Long was pitched upon
for the tripos performance: it was witty and humorous, and has passed
through divers editions. Some who remembered the delivery of it, told
me, that in addressing the Vice-Chancellor (whom the University wags
usually styled _Miss Greene_,) the tripos-orator, being a native of
Norfolk, and assuming the Norfolk dialect, instead of saying DominE
Vice-CancellariE, did very audibly pronounce the words thus,--DominA
Vice-CancellariA; which occasioned a general smile in that great
auditory." I could recollect several other


Of his, if there were occasion, adds Mr. Jones: but his friend, Mr.
Bonfoy, of Ripon, told me this little incident:--that he, and Dr. Long
walking together in Cambridge, in a dusky evening, and coming to a
short _post_ fixed in the pavement, which Mr. B., in the midst of chat
and inattention, took to be a boy standing in his way, he said in a
hurry, "Get out of my way, boy." "That boy, sir," said the Doctor,
very calmly and slily, "is a _post boy, who turns off his way for

       *       *       *       *       *


George the Second is said, like his father, to have had a strong
predilection for his continental dominions, of which his ministers did
not fail, occasionally, to take advantage. A residentiary of St.
Paul's cathedral happening to fall vacant, Lord Granville was anxious
to secure it for the learned translator of Demosthenes, Dr. John
Taylor, fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge. The King started some
scruples at first, but his Lordship carried his point easily, on
assuring his Majesty, which was the fact, that "the Doctor's learning
was _celebrated all over Germany_."

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *


The learned prelate, at whose expense the rector's lodgings were built
at Lincoln College, Oxford, is commemorated by his rebus, a _beacon_
and a _tun_, which may still be traced on the walls.


Founder of Jesus College, Cambridge, and Bishop of Ely, either
_rebused_ himself, or was _rebused_ by others, in almost every
conspicuous part of his College, by a _cock perched upon a globe_.
On one window is a cock with a label from its mouth, bearing the
inscription, [Greek: Egô eimi alektôr]: to which another opposite
bravely crows, says Cole, [Greek: Ontôs kai egô]:

  "I am a cock!" the one doth cry:
  And t'other answers--"So am I."

There is a plate of him at the head of his celebrated Sermon, printed
by Pynson, in 1498, with a cock at each side, and another on the first
page. The subject of the discourse is the crowing of the cock when
Peter denied Christ.


The celebrated founder of Queen's College, Oxford, who was a native of
Cumberland, and confessor to Philippa, Queen of Edward the Third, gave
the College, for its arms, three spread eagles; but a singular custom,
according to a _rebus_, has been founded upon the fanciful derivation
of his name, from _aiguille_, needle, and _fil_, thread; and it became
a commemorative mark of respect, continued to this day, for each
member of the College to receive from the Bursar, on New Year's Day,
a needle and thread, with the advice, "_Take this and be thrifty_."
"These conceits were not unusual at the time the College was founded,"
says Chalmers, in his History of Oxford, "and are sometimes thought
trifling, merely because we cannot trace their original use and
signification. Hollingshed informs us, that when the Prince of Wales,
afterwards Henry the Fifth, who was educated at this College, went to
Court in order to clear himself from certain charges of disaffection,
he wore a gown of blue satin, full of oilet holes, and at every hole a
needle hanging by a silk thread. This is supposed to prove at least,
that he was an academician of Queen's, and it may be conjectured that
this was the original academical dress." The same writer says, the
Founder ordered that the Society should "be called to their meals by
the sound of the trumpet (a practice which still prevails, as does a
similar one at the Middle Temple, London,) and the Fellows being placed
on one side of the table in robes of scarlet (those of the Doctor's
faced with black fur,) were to oppose in philosophy the poor scholars,
who, in token of submission and humility, kept on the other side. As
late as the last century the Fellows and Taberders used sometimes to
dispute on Sundays and holidays.


In an arched recess of the ante-chapel of St. John's College,
Cambridge, is the tomb of the celebrated Dr. Hugh Ashton, who took
part with the famous Bishop Fisher (beheaded by Henry the Eighth) in
the erection of the buildings of that learned foundation, and was the
second Master of the Society. His tomb, as Fuller observes, exhibits
"the marble effigy of his body when living, and the humiliating
contrast of his skeleton when dead, with the usual conceit of the
times, the figure of an _ash tree_ growing out of a _tun_."


Dyer records of the learned contemporary and antiquarian coadjutor of
the late Bishop of Cloyne, the Rev. Mr. _Leman_, a descendant of the
famous Sir Robert Naunton, Public Orator at Cambridge, and a Secretary
of State, that "his drawing-room was painted _en fresco_ with the
scenery around _Lake Leman_."


The same relates of himself, that, one day looking at some caricatures
at a window in Fleet-street, Peter Pindar (Dr. Wolcot,) whom he knew,
came up to him. "There, sir," said Mr. Dyer to the Doctor, pointing to
the _caricatures_, "is something in _your_ way." "And there is
something in _your_ way," rejoined the Doctor, pointing to some of the
ladies of the _pave_ who happened to be passing. Peter was sure to pay
in full.


Have ever been a grievous source of disquietude to both Oxonians and
Cantabs. Tom Randolph, the favourite son of Ben Johnson, made them the
subject of his muse. But in no instance, perhaps, have the race been
so completely put to the blush, "couleur de rose," as by the following



_Integer vitæ scelerisque purus, &c._


  The man who not a farthing owes,
  Looks down with scornful eye on those
      Who rise by fraud and cunning;
  Though in the _Pig-market_ he stand,
  With aspect grave and clear-starched band,
      He fears no tradesman's dunning.


  He passes by each shop in town,
  Nor hides his face beneath his gown,
      No dread his heart invading;
  He quaffs the nectar of the _Tuns_,
  Or on a spur-gall'd hackney runs
      To London masquerading.


  What joy attends a new-paid debt!
  Our _Manciple_[9] I lately met,
      Of visage wise and prudent;
  I on the nail my _battels_ paid,
  The master turn'd away dismay'd,
      Hear this each OXFORD student!


  With justice and with truth to trace
  The grisly features of his face,
      Exceeds all man's recounting;
  Suffice, he look'd as grim and sour
  As any lion in the Tower,
      Or half starved cat-a-mountain.


  A phiz so grim you scarce can meet,
  In Bedlam, Newgate, or the Fleet,
      Dry nurse of faces horrid!
  Not BUCKHORSE fierce, with many a bruise,
  Displays such complicated hues
      On his undaunted forehead.


  Place me on Scotland's bleakest hill,
  Provided I can pay my bill,
      Stay ev'ry thought of sorrow;
  There falling sleet, or frost, or rain,
  Attack a soul resolved, in vain--
      It may be fair to-morrow.


  To _Haddington_ then let me stray,
  And take _Joe Pullen's tree_ away,
    I'll ne'er complain of Phoebus;
  But while he scorches up the grass,
  I'll fill a bumper to my lass,
    And toast her in a rebus.

    [9] Churton says, in his Lives of the Founders of Brazenose
    College, Oxford, that "Manciples, the purveyors general of
    Colleges and Halls, were formerly men of so much consequence,
    that, to check their ambition, it was ordered by an express
    statute, that no Manciple should be Principal of a Hall."


A Cambridge wag who was skilled in the science of electricity, as well
as in the art of _ticking_, having got in pretty deep with his tailor,
who was continually _dunning_ him for payment, resolved to give snip
"_a settler_," as he said, the next time he mounted his stairs. He
accordingly _charged_ his electrifying machine much deeper than usual,
and knowing pretty well the time of snip's approach, watched his
coming to the foot of the stairs where he _kept_, and ere he could
reach the door, fixed the _conductor_ to the _brass handle_. The
tailor having long in vain sought occasion to catch him with his
_outer_ door not _sported_, was so delighted at finding it so, that,
resolving not to lose time, he seized the handle of the _inner_ door,
so temptingly exposed to view, determining to introduce himself to his
creditor _sans ceremonie_. No sooner, however, did his fingers come in
contact with it than the _shock_ followed, so violent, that it stunned
him for an instant: but recovering himself, he bolted as though
followed, as the poet says, by "ten thousand devils," never again to

       *       *       *       *       *


Gray's letters, and Bishop Warburton's polemical writings, show, that
in more respects than one they were gifted with a like temperament:
but in the following instances they form a contrast to each other. In
the library of the British Museum is an interesting letter occasioned
by the death of the Rev. N. Nicholls, LL.B., Rector of Loud and
Bradwell, in Suffolk, from the pen of the now generally acknowledged
author of "The Pursuits of Literature," J. T. Mathias, M.A., in which
he says, that shortly after that elegant scholar, and lamented divine,
became a student of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, at the age of eighteen, a
friend introduced him to Gray, the poet, at that time redolent with
fame, and resident in Peter-House, to speak to whom was honourable;
but to be admitted to his acquaintance, or to his familiarity, was the
height of youthful, or indeed of any ambition. Shortly after this, Mr.
N. was in a company of which Mr. Gray was one; and, as it became his
youth, he did not enter into conversation, but listened with
attention. The subject, however, being general and classical, and as
Mr. Nicholls, even at that early period, was acquainted not only with
the Greek and Latin, but with many of the best Italian poets, he
ventured, with great diffidence, to offer a short remark, and happened
to illustrate what he had said by an apposite quotation from Dante. At
the name of Dante, Mr. Gray suddenly turned round to him and said,
"Right: but have you read Dante, sir?" "I have endeavoured to
understand him," replied Mr. N. Mr. Gray being much pleased with the
illustration, and with the taste which it evinced, addressed the chief
of his discourse to him for the remainder of the evening, and invited
him to his rooms in Pembroke Hall; and finding him ready and docile,
he became attached to him and gave him instruction in the course of
his studies, to which, adds Mr. Mathias, "I attribute the extent and
value of his knowledge, and the peculiar accuracy and correct taste
which distinguished him throughout life, and which I have seldom
observed in any man in a more eminent degree." And I wish every young
man of genius might hear and consider, observes Mr. M., commenting
upon an incident so honourable to all parties, "the


With modesty and propriety, in the highest, I mean the most learned
and virtuous company." What a different spirit was evinced, in the
following incident, by that great polemical writer, Bishop Warburton:
but it happily originated


Which were the production of Thomas Edwards, an Etonian and King's
College man, where he graduated M.A. in 1734, but missing a
fellowship, turned soldier. After he had been some time in the army,
says a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, for 1779, it so happened
that, being at Bath, after Mr. Warburton's marriage to Mr. Allen's
niece, he was introduced at Prior Park, _en famille_. The conversation
not unfrequently turning on literary subjects, Mr. Warburton generally
took the opportunity of showing his superiority in Greek, not having
the least idea that an officer of the army understood anything of that
language, or that Mr. Edwards had been bred at Eton; till one day,
being accidentally in the library, Mr. Edwards took down a Greek
author, and explained a passage in it in a manner that Mr. Warburton
did not approve. This occasioned no small contest; and Mr. Edwards
(who had now discovered to Mr. Warburton how he came by his knowledge)
endeavoured to convince him, that he did not understand the original
language, but that his knowledge arose from French translations. Mr.
Warburton was highly irritated; an incurable breach took place; and
this trifling altercation (after Mr. Edwards had quitted the army and
was entered of Lincoln's Inn) produced _The Canons of Criticism_.

       *       *       *       *       *


That munificent prelate and Oxonian, Dr. Shute Barrington, sixth son
of the first Viscount, and the late Bishop of Durham, a prelate,
indeed, whose charities were unbounded, was so conscientious in the
discharge of his functions, that he personally examined all candidates
for Holy Orders, and, however strongly they might be recommended,
rejected all that appeared unworthy of the sacred trust. On one
occasion, a relative, relying for advancement upon his patronage,
having intimated a desire to enter the Church, the Bishop inquired
with what preferment he would be contented. "Five hundred pounds a
year will satisfy all my wants," was the reply. "You shall have it,"
answered the conscientious prelate: "not out of the patrimony of the
Church, but out of my private fortune." The same Bishop gave the
entire of 60,000_l._ at once, for founding schools, unexpectedly
recovered in a lawsuit; and amongst other persons of talent, preferred
Paley to the valuable living of Bishop Wearmouth, unsolicited and
totally unknown to him, save through his valuable writings.

       *       *       *       *       *


Is recorded of the celebrated Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge,
the Rev. James Scott, M.A., better known as Anti-Sejanus, who
acquired extraordinary eminence as a pulpit orator, both in and out of
the University. He frequently preached at St. Mary's, where crowds of
the University attended him. On one occasion he offended the
Undergraduates, by the delivery of a severe philippic against gaming;
which they deeming a work of supererogation, evinced their displeasure
by _scraping_ the floor with their feet (an old custom now scarcely
resorted to twice in a century.) He, however, severely censured them
for this act of indecorum, shortly afterwards, in another discourse,
for which he selected the appropriate text, "_Keep thy feet when thou
goest to the House of God_."

       *       *       *       *       *


It is not surprising that our distinguished philosophers and
mathematicians have rarely evinced much knowledge of men and manners,
or of the ordinary circumstances of life, since they are so much
occupied in telling "the number of the stars," in tracing the wonders
of creation, or in balancing the mental and physical powers of man.
Our illustrious Cantab, Bacon, says his biographer, was cheated by his
servants at the bottom, whilst he sat in abstraction at the top of
his table; and he of whom Dr. Johnson said (the great and good
NEWTON,) that had he lived in the days of ancient Greece, he would
have been worshipped as a deity; of whom, too, the poet wrote--

  "Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night,
  God said, 'Let NEWTON be,' and all was light,"

Caused a smaller hole to be perforated in his room door, when his
favourite cat had a kitten, not remembering that it would follow puss
through the larger one. Another more modern and less distinguished but
not less amiable Cantab, who was _Senior Wrangler_ in his year, one
day inquired--


Another distinguished _Senior Wrangler_, Professor and divine,
occasionally amuses his friends by rehearsing the fact, that once,
having, to preach in the neighbourhood of Cambridge, he hired a blind
horse to ride the distance on, and his path laying cross a common,
where the road was but indistinctly marked, he became so absorbed in
abstract calculations, that, forgetting to guide his steed aright, he
and the horse wandered so far awry, that they tumbled "head over
heels," as the folks say, upon a cow slumbering by the way side. _On
dit_, the same Cantab was one morning caught over his breakfast-fire
with an egg in his hand, to minute the time by, and his--


When he went in for A.B. his natural _diffidence_ prevented his doing
much in the first four days of the Senate House examination, and he
was consequently _bracketted low_: but rallying his confidence, he
challenged all the men of his years, and was _Senior Wrangler_. This
incident caused him to be received with rapturous applause, upon his
being presented to the Vice-Chancellor for his degree, on the
following Saturday. A few days after he is said to have been in
London, and entered one of the larger theatres at the same instant
with ROYALTY itself:--the audience rose with one accord, and thunders
of applause followed! "_This is too much_," said our Cantab to his
friend, modestly hiding his face in his hat, having, in the
_simplicity_ of his heart, taken the _huzzas and claps_ to be an
_improved_ edition of the Senate House. Another Cantab, who was also a
Senior Wrangler, and guilty of many singularities, as well as some
follies, one who has _unjustly_ heaped reproach on the head of his
_Alma Mater_ (see his "Progress of a Senior Wrangler at Cambridge," in
the numbers of the defunct London Magazine,) had the following
quaternion posted on his room door in Trinity:--

  "King Solomon in days of old,
    The wisest man was reckon'd:
  I fear as much cannot be told
    Of Solomon the Second."

       *       *       *       *       *


Are recorded of the famous Cantab and Etonian, the Rev. George
Harvest, B.D., who was one day walking in the Temple Gardens, London,
with the son of his patron, the great Speaker Onslow, when he picked
up a curious pebble, observing he would keep it for his friend, Lord
Bute. He and his companion were going to _The Beef-steak Club_, then
held in Ivy-lane. Mr. Onslow asked him what o'clock it was, upon which
he took out his watch, and observed they had but ten minutes good.
Another turn or two was proposed, but they had scarcely made half the
length of the walk, when he coolly put the pebble into his _fob_, and
threw his watch into the Thames. He was at another time in a boat with
the same gentleman, when he began to read a favourite Greek author
(for, like Porson, his coat pockets generally contained a moderate
library) with such emphasis and strange gesticulations, that


And he coolly stepped overboard to recover them, without once dreaming
that it was not _terra-firma_, and was _fished_ out with great
difficulty. He frequently wrote a letter to one person, forgot to
subscribe his name to it, and directed it to another. On one occasion
he provided himself with three sermons, having been appointed to
preach before the Archdeacon and Clergy of the district. Some wags got
them, and having intermixed the leaves, stitched them together in that
state, and put them into his sermon-case. He mounted the pulpit at the
usual time, took his text, but soon surprised his reverend audience by
taking leave of the thread of his discourse. He was, however, so
insensible to the dilemma in which he was placed, that he went
preaching on. At last the congregation became impatient, both from the
length and the nature of his sermon. First the archdeacon slipped out,
then the clergy, one by one, followed by the rest of the congregation;
but he never flagged, and would have finished


Had not the clerk reminded him that they were the sole occupants of
the lately-crowded church. He went down to Cambridge to vote for his
Eton contemporary,


When the latter was candidate for the dignity of High-steward of the
University, in opposition to PITT. His lordship invited him to dine
with some friends at the Rose Inn. "_Apropos_, my lord," exclaimed
Harvest, during the meal, "whence do you derive your nick-name of
_Jemmy Twitcher_?" "Why," said his lordship, "from some foolish
fellow." "No, no," said Harvest, "not from some, for every body calls
you so;" on which his lordship, knowing it to be the favourite dish of
his quondam friend, put a huge slice of plum-pudding upon his plate,
which effectually stopped his mouth. His lordship has the credit of
being the originator and first President of the Cambridge Oriental
Club. He was also


Once passing a whole day at some game of which he was fond, he became
so absorbed in its progress, that he denied himself time to eat, in
the usual way, and ordered a slice of beef between two pieces of
toasted bread, which he masticated without quitting his game; and that
sort of refreshment has ever since borne the designation of _a
Sandwich_. Parkes, in his Musical Memoirs, gives him the credit of


It happened, he says, that during a feast given to his lordship by the
Corporation of Worcester, when he was First Lord of the Admiralty, a
servant let fall a dish with a boiled neat's tongue, as he was
bringing it to table. The Mayor expressing his concern to his
lordship, "Never mind," said he, "it's only a _lapsus linguæ_!" which
Witty saying creating a great deal of mirth, one of the Aldermen
present, at a dinner he gave soon after, instructed his servant to
throw down a roast leg of mutton, that he too might have his joke.
This was done; "Never mind," he exclaimed to his friends, "it's only a
_lapsus linguæ_." The company stared, but he begun a roaring laugh,
_solus_. Finding nobody joined therein, he stopped his mirth, saying,
that when Lord Sandwich said it, every body laughed, and he saw no
reason why they should not laugh at him. This sally had the desired
effect, and the company, one and all, actually shook their sides, and
our host was satisfied.

       *       *       *       *       *


In 1717, George I. and his ministers had contrived to make themselves
so unpopular, that the badges of the disaffected, oaken boughs, were
publicly worn on the 29th of May, and white roses on the birth-day
of the Pretender, the 10th of June. Oxford, and especially the
university, manifested such strong feelings, that it was deemed
expedient to send a military force there: Cambridge, more inclined to
the Whig principles of the court and government, was at the same time
complimented with a present of books. Upon this occasion, Dr. Trapp,
the celebrated Oxford poet and divine, wrote the following epigram:--

  Our royal master saw, with heedful eyes,
  The wants of his two universities:
  Troops he to Oxford sent, as knowing why
  That learned body wanted loyalty;
  But books to Cambridge gave, as well discerning
  How that right loyal body wanted learning.

Cambridge, as may be well supposed, was not backward in retorting:
and an able champion she found in her equally celebrated scholar,
physician, and benefactor, Sir William Blowne (founder of a
scholarship and the three gold medals called after his name,) who
replied to Dr. Trapp in the following quaternion:--

  The king to Oxford sent a troop of horse,
  For Tories know no argument but force:
  With equal grace, to Cambridge books he sent,
  For Whigs allow no force but argument.

Not that Cambridge was behind Oxford in supporting the unfortunate
Charles the First, to whom the several colleges secretly conveyed
nearly all their ancient plate; and Cromwell, in consequence,
retaliated by confining and depriving numbers of her most
distinguished scholars, both laymen and divines, many of whom died in
exile: and the commissioners of parliament, with a taste worthy of the
worst barbarians, caused many of the buildings to be despoiled of
their architectural ornaments and exquisite pieces of sculpture and
painted glass. It was at this time appeared the following celebrated
poetic trifle, extant in the Oxford Sausage, known as


Written by Herbert Beaver, Esq., of Corpus Christi College, Oxford,
when "Gaby" (as the then President, Dr. Shaw, is called, who had been
a zealous Jacobite,) suddenly, on the accession of George the First,
became a still more zealous patron of the interests of the House of

  When GABY possession had got of the _Hall_,
  He took a survey of the Chapel and all,
  Since that, like the rest, was just ready to fall,
          _Which nobody can deny_.

  And first he began to examine the chest,
  Where he found an old _Cushion_ which gave him distaste;
  The first of the kind that e'er _troubled his rest,_
          _Which nobody can deny_.

  Two letters of Gold on this Cushion were rear'd;
  Two letters of gold once by GABY rever'd,
  But now what was loyalty, treason appear'd:
          _Which nobody can deny_.

  "J. R. (quoth the Don, in soliloquy bass)
  "See the works of this damnable Jacobite race!
  "We'll out with the J, and put G in its place:"
          _Which nobody can deny_.

  And now to erase these letters so rich,
  For scissors and bodkin his fingers did itch,
  For Converts in politics go _thorough-stich_:
          _Which nobody can deny_:

  The thing was about as soon done as said,
  Poor _J_ was deposed and _G_ reigned in his stead;
  Such a quick revolution sure never was read!
          _Which nobody can deny_.

  Then hey for preferment--but how did he stare,
  When convinced and ashamed of not being aware,
  That _J_ stood for JENNET,[10] for RAYMOND the _R_,
          _Which nobody can deny_.

  Then beware, all ye priests, from hence I advise,
  How ye choose Christian names for the babes ye baptize,
  For if GABY don't like 'em he'll pick out their I's,
          _Which nobody can deny_.

    [10] The benefactor who gave the college the Cushion.

       *       *       *       *       *

Terræ Filius relates the following instance of


Mr. Carty of University College, and Mr. Meadowcourt of Merton
College, Oxford (says this writer,) were suspended from proceeding to
their next degree, in 1716, the first for a period of one, the second
for a period of two years, the latter further, not to be permitted "to
supplicate for his grace, until he confesses his manifold crimes, and
asks pardon _upon his knees, For breaking out to that degree of
impudence_ (when the Proctor admonished him to go home from the tavern
at an unseasonable hour,) as to command all the company, with a loud
voice, _to drink King_ GEORGE'S _health_." And, strange enough,
persisting in his refusal to ask pardon, as required, he only
ultimately obtained his degree by pleading the _act of grace_ of the
said King George, enacted in favour of those who had been guilty of
treason, &c. These were, it appears, both Fellows of colleges, and
with several others, who were likewise put in the _Black-book_, were
members of a society in Oxford, called


At a meeting of which it was that the king was _toasted_.


Was one formed, in 1757, by the _Wranglers_ of that year, including
the late Professor Waring; the celebrated reformer Dr. Jebb the
munificent founder of the Cambridge Hebrew Scholarships; Mr. Tyrwhitt;
and other learned men. It was called _The Hyson Club_, the
entertainments being only tea and conversation. Paley, who joined it
after he became tutor of Christ College, is thus made to speak of it
by a writer in the New Monthly Magazine for 1825:--"We had a club at
Cambridge, of political reformers; it was called the Hyson Club, as we
met at tea time; and various schemes were discussed among us. Jebb's
plan was, that the people should meet and declare their will; and if
the House of Commons should pay due attention to the will of the
people, why, well and good; if not, the people were to convey their
will into effect. We had no idea that we were talking treason. I was
always an advocate for _braibery and corrooption_: they raised an
outcry against me, and affected to think I was not in earnest. 'Why,'
said I, 'who is so mad as to wish to be governed by force? or who is
such a fool as to expect to be governed by virtue? There remains,
then, nothing but _braibery and corrooption_.'" No particular subjects
were proposed for discussion at their meetings, but accident or the
taste of individuals naturally led to topics, such as literary and
scientific characters might freely discuss. At a meeting where the
debate was on the justice or expediency of making some alteration in
the ecclesiastical constitution of the country, for the relief of
tender consciences, Dr. Gordon, of Emmanuel College, late Precentor of
Lincoln, vehemently opposed the arguments of Dr. Jebb, then tutor of
Peter House, who supported the affirmative, by exclaiming, "You mean,
Sir, to impose upon us a new church government." "You are mistaken,"
said Paley, who was present, "Jebb only wants to ride his own horse,
not to force you to get up behind him."

       *       *       *       *       *


Discipline, like every thing else characteristic of our elder
institutions, has for some years been fast giving way in our
universities. Statutes are permitted to slumber unheeded, as not
fitted to the present _advanced_ state of society; and in colleges
where it would, as late as the beginning of the nineteenth century,
have been almost a crime to have been seen in hall or chapel without
_a white cravat on_, scholars now strut in black ones, "unawed by
_imposition_" or a fine. I can remember the time when this inroad upon
decent appearance first begun, and when the Dean of _our_ college put
forth his strong arm, and insisted on white having the preference. Men
then used to wear their black till they came to the _hall or chapel_
door, then take them off, and walk in with none at all, and again
twist them round the neck, heedless whether the tie were _Brummell_ or
not, on issuing forth from Prayers or Commons. Like the Whigs, they
have by perseverance carried their point, and strut about in black,
wondering what they shall next attempt.

       *       *       *       *       *


That at the time Dr. W---- became Master of St. John's College,
Cambridge, the tutors used to oblige (and it was a custom for) the
scholars to stand, cap in hand (if any tutor entered a court where
they might be passing,) till the said tutor disappeared. This was so
rigorously enforced, that the scholars complained to the new master,
and he desired the tutors to relax the custom. This order they refused
to comply with. Upon this the Doctor took down from a shelf a copy of
the _College Statutes_, and coolly read to them a section, where the
fellows of the same were enjoined to stand, cap in hand, till the
master passed by, wherever they met him; and the Doctor, it is added,
insisted upon its observance, on pain of ejection, till at length the
tutors gave way.

       *       *       *       *       *


Foote the comedian was, in his youthful days, a student of Worcester
College, Oxford, under the care of the Provost, Dr. Gower. The Doctor
was a learned and amiable man, but a pedant. The latter characteristic
was soon seized upon by the young satirist, as a source whereon to
turn his irresistible passion for wit and humour. The church at this
time belonging to Worcester College, fronted a lane were cattle were
turned out to graze, and (as was then the case in many towns, and is
still in some English villages) the church porch was open, with the
bell-ropes suspended in the centre. Foote tied a wisp of hay to one of
them, and this was no sooner scented by the cattle at night, than it
was seized upon as a dainty morsel. Tug, tug, went one and all, and
"ding-dong" went the bell at midnight, to the astonishment of the
Doctor, the sexton, the whole parish, and the inmates of the College.
The young wag kept up the joke for several successive nights, and
reports of ghosts, goblins, and frightful visions, soon filled the
imagination of old and young with alarm, and many a simple man and
maiden whisked past the scene of midnight revel ere the moon had
"filled her horns," struck with fear and trembling. The Doctor
suspected some trick. He, accordingly, engaged the Sexton to watch
with him for the detection of the culprit. They had not long lain hid,
under favour of a dark night, when "ding-dong" went the bell again:
both rushed from their hiding places, and the sexton commenced the
attack by seizing the cow's tail, exclaiming, "'Tis a gentleman
commoner,--I have him by the tail of his gown!" The Doctor approached
on the opposite tack, and seized a horn with both hands, crying, "No,
no, you blockhead, 'tis the postman,--I have caught the rascal by his
_blowing-horn_!" and both bawled lustily for assistance, whilst the
cow kicked and flung to get free; but both held fast till lights were
procured, when the real offender stood revealed, and the laugh of the
whole town was turned upon the Doctor and his fellow-_night_-errant,
the Sexton.

       *       *       *       *       *


The Spoon, in the words of Lord Byron's Don Juan,

  "---- The name by which we Cantabs please,
  To dub the last of honours in degrees,"

is the annual subject for University mirth, and if not the _fountain_,
is certainly the very _foundation_ of Cambridge University honours:
without _the spoon_, not a man in the _Tripos_ would have a _leg to
stand upon_: in fact, it would be a top without a bottom, _minus_ the
spoon. Yet "this luckless wight," says the compiler of the Cambridge
Tart, is annually a universal butt and laughing-stock of the whole
Senate-House. He is the last of those men who take _honours_ of his
year, and is called a "_junior optime_," and notwithstanding his being
superior to them all, the lowest of the [Greek: Hoi polloi] or
Gregarious Undistinguished Bachelors, think themselves entitled to
shoot their pointless arrows against the "_wooden spoon_," and to
reiterate the perennial remark, that, "_wranglers_" are born with
_golden_ spoons in their mouths; "_senior optimes_" with _silver_
spoons; "_junior optimes_" with _wooden spoons_, and the [Greek: Hoi
polloi] with _leaden_ spoons in their mouths. It may be here, however,
observed, that it is unjust towards the _undistinguished bachelors_ to
say that "he (the spoon) is superior to them all." He is generally a
man who has read hard, _id est_, has _done his best_, whilst the
undistinguished bachelors, it is well known, include many men of
considerable, even superior talents, but having no taste for
_mathematics_, have merely read sufficient to get a degree;
consequently _have not done their best_. The muse has thus invoked


  When sage _Mathesis_ calls her sons to fame,
  The _Senior Wrangler_ bears the highest name.
  In academic honour richly deckt,
  He challenges from all deserved respect.
  But, if to visit friends he leaves his gown,
  And flies in haste to cut a dash in town,
  The wrangler's title, little understood,
  Suggests a man in disputation good;
  And those of common talents cannot raise,
  Their humble thoughts a wrangler's mind to praise.
  Such honours to an Englishman soon fade,
  Like laurel wreaths, the victor's brows that shade.
  No such misfortune has that man to fear,
  Whom fate ordains the last in fame's career;
  His honours fresh remain, and e'en descend
  To soothe his family, or chosen friend.
  And while he lives, he _wields_ the boasted prize,
  Whose value all can feel, the weak, the wise;
  Displays in triumph his distinguished boon,
  The solid honours of the WOODEN SPOON!

That many have borne off this prize who might have _done better_, is
well known too. One learned Cantab in that situation felt so assured
of his fate, when it might have been more honourable, had he been
gifted with prudence and perseverance, that on the morning when it is
customary to give out the _honours_, in the Senate House, in their
_order of merit_, he provided himself with a large _wooden spoon_, and
when there was a call from the gallery, for "_the spoon_" (for then
the Undergraduates were allowed to express their likes and dislikes
publicly, a custom now _suppressed_,) he turned the shafts of ridicule
aside by thrusting the emblem of his honours up high over his
head,--an act that gained him no slight applause. Another Cantab, of
precisely the same _grade_ as to talent, who was second in the
_classical tripos_ of his year, gave a supper on the occasion of the
spoon being awarded to him, which commenced with _soup_, each man
being furnished with a ponderous _wooden spoon_ to _lap_ it with.
Another, now a Fellow of Trinity College, who more than once bore off
the _Porson prize_, being in this _place of honour_, a wag nailed a
large _wooden spoon_ to his door. Hundreds of other tricks have been
put upon _the spoon_, next to whom are--


Which, said the great Bentley, in a sermon preached before the
University of Cambridge, on the 5th of November, 1715, "is a known
expression in profane authors, opposed sometimes, [Greek: tois
sophois], _to the wise_, and ever denotes the most, and generally the
meanest of mankind." "Besides the mirth devoted character," (_the
wooden spoon_,) says the writer first quoted, there "are always a few,
a chosen few, a degree lower than the [Greek: Hoi polloi], constantly
written down alphabetically, who serve to exonerate the '_wooden
spoon_,' in part, from the ignominy of the day; and these undergo
various epithets, according to their accidental number. If there was
but one, he was called _Bion_, who carried all his learning about him
without the slightest inconvenience. If there were two, they were
dubbed the _Scipios; Damon and Pythias; Hercules and Atlas; Castor and
Pollux_. If three, they were _ad libitum_, the _three Graces_; or the
_three Furies; the Magi_; or _Noah_, _Daniel_, and _Job_. If seven,
they were _the seven Wise Men_; or _the Seven Wonders of the World_.
If nine, they were the unfortunate _Suitors of the Muses_. If twelve,
they became the _Apostles_. If thirteen, either they deserved a round
dozen, or, like the Americans, should bear thirteen stripes on their
_coat and arms_. Lastly, they were sometimes styled _constant
quantities_, and _Martyrs_; or the thirteenth was designated the
_least_ of the _Apostles_; and, should there be a fourteenth, he was
_unworthy to be called an Apostle_!" An unknown pen has immortalized
the [Greek: Hoi polloi], by the following--


    "Post tot naufragia tutus."--VIRG.

  Thrice happy ye, through toil and dangers past,
    Who rest upon that peaceful shore,
    Where all your fagging is no more,
  And gain the long-expected port at last.

  Yours are the sweets, the ravishing delights,
    To doze and snore upon your noontide beds;
  No chapel-bell your peaceful sleep affrights,
    No problems trouble now your empty heads.

  Yet, if the heavenly muse is not mistaken,
    And poets say the muse can rightly guess,
    I fear, full many of you must confess
  That you have barely _saved your bacon_.

  Amidst th' appalling problematic war,
    Where dire equations frown'd in dread array,
    Ye never strove to find the arduous way,
  To where proud Granta's honours shine afar.

  Within that dreadful mansion have ye stood,
    When _moderators_ glared with looks uncivil,
  How often have ye d--d their souls, their blood,
    And wished all _mathematics_ at the devil!

  But ah! what terrors on that fatal day
    Your souls appall'd, when, to your stupid gaze,
    Appear'd the _biquadratic's_ darken'd maze,
  And problems ranged in horrible array!

  Hard was the task, I ween, the labour great,
    To the wish'd port to find your uncouth way--
  How did ye toil, and fag, and fume, and fret,
    And--what the bashful muse would blush to say.

  But now your painful terrors all are o'er--
    Cloth'd in the glories of a full-sleev'd gown,
    Ye strut majestically up and down,
  And now ye fag, and now ye fear no more.

But although many men of this class are not gifted with that species
of perception suited to mathematical studies, however desirable it may
be that the mind should be subject to that _best of all correctives_,
the abstruse sciences, they are often possessed of what may be justly
denominated "great talents." A remarkable instance of this fact was
manifested in the person of a late fellow of Trinity (now no longer
so--"for conscience-sake,") who wrote a tragedy whilst still a boy of
sixteen or seventeen, that was produced at Covent Garden with success,
obtained the only vacant _Craven scholarship_ in his freshman's year
(always considered a high test of classical ability,) and carried off
other classical university prizes. Yet he, when he came to be examined
for his degree, though he sat and wrote out _whole books of Homer_
from memory, he was unable to go through the first problem of Euclid:
for when told that he _must_ do something _in mathematics_, he wrote
down, after a fashion, the A's and B's, but without describing the
figure, a necessary accompaniment. Of the omission he was reminded by
the examiner--"Oh! _the picture, you mean_," was his reply, and,
drawing a triangle of a true _isosceles_ cut, instead of an
_equilateral_ one, he added thereto, _a la heraldique_, by way of
supporters, two _ovals_ of equal height, which completed his only
mathematical effort. His learning and talents, however, procured him
his degree and a fellowship. To others, mathematics are an
inexhaustible source of delight, and such a mind it was that penned
_The Address to Mathematics_, in "The Cambridge Tart," beginning--

  "With thee, divine Mathesis, let me live!
  Effuse source of evidence and truth!"

PORSON gave a singular proof of his "fondness for Algebra," says the
_Sexagenarian_, by composing an equation in Greek, the original being
comprised in one line. When resident in college, he would frequently
amuse himself by sending to his friends scraps of Greek of a like
character, for solution. The purport of one was, "Find the value of
_nothing_." The next time he met his friend, he addressed him with,
"Well, have you succeeded in finding the _value of nothing_?" "Yes,"
replied his friend. "What is it?" "Sixpence I gave the gyp for
bringing your note," was the rejoinder.

The late Professor Vince meeting a fellow of St. John's College,
Cambridge, the next morning after a high wind had blown down several
of the fine old trees in the walks, some of three centuries' standing,
he was addressed with, "a terrible storm last night, Mr. Professor."
"Yes," he replied, "it was


"Mathematical wind!" exclaimed the other, "how so, Doctor?" "Why you
see it has _extracted a great many roots_!" A Johnian one day eating
_apple-pie_ by the side of a Johnian fellow, an inveterate punster, he
facetiously observed,


Another fellow walking down the hall, after dinner, and slipping some
distance on _smooth flags_, looked over his shoulder and observed to
one following him--"_An inclined plane_."

Another Cantab, when a student of Bene't, now rector of H----,
Suffolk, sung his song of "divine Mathesis:"--

  Let mathematicians and geometricians
    Talk of circles' and triangles' charms,
  The figure I prize is a girl with bright eyes,
    And the circle that's formed by her arms.

       *       *       *       *       *


This class of Cambridge honours, for which none can become candidates
but those who have attained mathematical distinction, was instituted
by a Grace of the Senate, in 1822. As its title implies, it is divided
into three classes. The first examination took place in 1824, when the
Cantabs were saved the labour of _gestation_, by the last man in the
third class being named _Wedgewood_, which was transposed by some wag
to _wooden wedge_--and by that _soubriquet_, equivalent to the _wooden
spoon_, all men so circumstanced are now designated in the colloquial
phraseology of the University. It is but justice to Mr. W. to add,
however, that he also attained the high mathematical distinction of
eighth wrangler of his year. By the same decree of the Senate


Was established at Cambridge (answering to the Oxford "Little-go,") by
which all students are required to undergo an examination in Classics
and Divinity, in the Lent term of the second year of their residence.
The successful candidates are divided into two classes only: but
there is always a select few who are _allowed_ to pass, after an extra
trial of skill: these are lumped at the end, and have been designated
"_Elegant Extracts_." Some wag furnished Jackson's Oxford Journal with


  No cat has _two_ tails.
  A cat has _one_ tail _more_ than no cat.
  _Ergo_--A cat has three tails.

The following song (in the true spirit of a non-reading man) is from
the pen of a learned seceding Cantab, the late Dr. John Disney, who,
after graduating at Peter-House, Cambridge, LL.B., and for some time
officiating as a minister of the Established Church, resigned a living
"for conscience sake," and closed his career as Minister of the
Unitarian Chapel, in Essex-street, Strand:--

  Come, my good College lads! and attend to my lays,
    I'll show you the folly of poring o'er books;
  For all you get by it is mere empty praise,
    Or a poor meagre fellowship, and sour looks.


      Then lay by your books, lads, and never repine;
        And cram not your attics,
        With dry mathematics,
      But moisten your clay with a bumper of wine.

  The first of mechanics was old Archimedes,
    Who play'd with Rome's ships as we'd play cup and ball,
  To play the same game I can't see where the need is,
    Or why we should fag mathematics at all.
              Then lay by your books, lads, &c.

  Great Newton found out the binomial law,
    To raise X -|- Y to the power of B;
  Found the distance of planets that he never saw,
    And we most probably never shall see.
              Then lay by your books, lads, &c.

  Let Whiston and Ditton star-gazing enjoy,
    And taste all the sweets mathematics can give;
  Let us for our time find a better employ,
    And knowing life's sweets, let us learn how to live.
              Then lay by your books, lads, &c.

  These men _ex absurdo_, conclusions may draw,
    Perpetual motion they never could find;
  Not one of the set, lads, can balance a straw,
    And longitude seeking is hunting the wind.
              Then lay by your books, lads, &c.

  If we study at all, let us study the means
    To make ourselves friends, and to keep them when made;
  Learn to value the blessings kind heaven ordains,
    To make others happy, let that be our trade.


      Let each day be better than each day before,
          Without pain or sorrow,
          To-day or to-morrow,
      May we live, my good lads, to see many days more.

       *       *       *       *       *


Two Cantabs, brothers, named Whiter, one the learned author of
_Etymologicum Magnum_, the other an amiable divine; both were
remarkable, the one for being six, the other about five feet in
height. The taller was eccentric and often absent in his habits, the
other a wag. Both were invited to the same party, and the taller being
first ready, slipped on the coat of the shorter, and wended his way
into a crowded room of fashionables, to whom his eccentricities being
familiar, they were not much surprised at seeing him encased in a
coat, the tail of which scarcely reached his hips, whilst the sleeves
ran short of his elbows; in fact, it was a perfect _strait jacket_,
and he had not been long seated before he began to complain to every
body that he was suffering from a dreadful fit of _rheumatism_. One or
two suggested the _tightness_ of his coat as the cause of his pain;
but he remained rheumatic in spite of them, till his brother's
approach threw the whole party into a fit of convulsive laughter, as
he came sailing into the room, his coat-tails sweeping the room, _en
traine_, and his arms performing the like service on either side, as
he exclaimed, to his astonished brother, "Why, Bob, you have got my
coat on!" Bob then discovered that his friends' hints bordered on the
truth, and the two exchanged garments forthwith, to the amusement of
all present.

       *       *       *       *       *


The Doctor was once staying with the late great and good Mr. Roscoe,
when many of the most distinguished Whigs were his guests also, out of
compliment to whom the Doctor forbore to indulge in his customary
after-dinner pipe. At length, when wine and words had circulated
briskly, and twilight began to set in, he insisted upon mounting to
his own room to have a whiff _solus_. Having groped his way up stairs,
somewhat exhausted with the effort, he threw himself into what he took
to be an arm-chair. Suddenly the ears of the party were assailed with
awful moans and groans, as of some one in tribulation. Mr. Roscoe
hastened to learn the cause, and no sooner reached the stairs' foot,
than he heard the Doctor calling lustily for his man John, adding, in
more supplicatory accents, "Will nobody help a Christian man in
distress! Will nobody help a Christian man in distress!" Mr. Roscoe
mounted to the rescue, but could not forbear a hearty laugh, as he
beheld Dr. P. locked in the close embrace of a large old-fashioned
grate, which he had mistaken for an arm-chair, and from which he was
in vain struggling to relieve himself.

       *       *       *       *       *


When Robert the Devil was first produced at Paris, and the opera going
folk were on the _qui vive_ for the promised appearance of the Prince
of Darkness, a certain Cantab, the facial line of whose countenance
bordered on the _demoniacal_, went to see him make his bow to a
Parisian audience, and happened to enter the same _loge_ from whence
a Parisian belle was anxiously watching the _entrée_ of Monsieur Le
Robert. Attracted by the creaking of the _loge_ door, on suddenly
turning her head in its direction, she caught a glimpse of our
Cambridge friend, and was so forcibly struck with the expression of
his countenance, that she went into hysterics, exclaiming, "Mon Dieu!
Le Diable!"

       *       *       *       *       *


The famous editor of Demosthenes, John Taylor, D.D. being accused of
saying Bishop Warburton was no scholar, denied it, but owned he always
thought so. Upon this Warburton called him "The Learned Dunce." When
Parr, in the British Critic for 1795, called Porson "a giant in
literature," and "a prodigy in intellect," the Professor took it in
dudgeon, and said, "_What right has any one to tell the height of a
man he cannot measure?_" A Dutch commentator having called Bentley
"Egregius" and "[Greek: Ho panu]," "What right, (said the Doctor) has
that fellow to quote me; "_does he think that I will set my pearls in
his dunghill_?" Baxter, in the second edition of his Horace, said the
great Bentley seemed to him "rather to have buried Horace under a heap
of rubbish than to have illustrated him." And


Who, to please his religious wife, composed a Greek ode to prove King
Solomon wrote Homer's Iliad, that he was

  "[Greek: Honos pros lyran]--_Asinus ad Lyram_:"

Joshua replied, that they who said this of him had not understanding
enough to be poets, or wanted the [Greek: Ho nous pros lyran].

       *       *       *       *       *


I have before spoken of these two Cambridge knights and rival
physicians, but there yet remains to be told of them, that on their
meeting each other, perchance, in the street or the senate house, the
latter addressing his rival in an ironical speech of condolence, to
the effect, "I regret to hear you are ill, Sir Busick." "Sir, _I
sick_!" (Sir Isaac) retorted the wit, "I never was better in my life!"
Many of my readers have no doubt seen the anecdote of Voltaire's
building a church, and causing to be engraved on the front thereof,
the vain record,

  "_Voltaire erexit hoc Templum Deo_."

A similar spirit seized a Mr. COLE of Cambridge, who left money either
to erect the church or the steeple of St. Clement's, in Bridge-street,
of that town, on condition that his name was placed on the front of
it. The condition was complied with to the letter, thus, by the
tasteful judgment of some Cambridge wag:--


An admirably turned pun, which, I may add, for the benefit of my
English readers, signifies, _Worship God_. I have already noticed the
_mathematical_ "_Pons Asinorum_" of our mother of Cambridge. One of
her waggish sons has likewise contrived, for their amusement, a
_classical Pons Asinorum_, known as


I knew a Trinity man of absent habits, who actually, after residing
two years in college, having occasion to call upon an old school
fellow, a scholar of Bene't (_id est_, Corpus Christi College,) before
it was _rebuilt_, was so little acquainted with the localities of the
university, that he was obliged to inquire his way, though not two
hundred yards from Trinity. Such a man could scarcely be expected to
know, what most Cantabs do, that Qui Church, which is situated about
four miles from Cambridge, "rears its head" in rural simplicity in the
midst of the _open fields_, seemingly without the "bills of
mortality;" for not so much as a cottage keeps it in countenance. This
gave occasion for a Cambridge wag to invent the following puzzle:--

  "Templum QUIstat in agris,"

Which has caused many a freshman a sleepless night, who, ignorant of
the _status_ QUI, has racked his brains to translate the above,
_minus_ a QUOD _pro_ QUI.

       *       *       *       *       *


Edmund Gurnay, B.D., Fellow of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, in
1601, was a sly humourist. The Master had a great desire to get the
garden to himself, and, either by threats or persuasion, get all the
rest of the fellows to resign their keys; but upon his application to
Gurnay, he absolutely refused to part with his right. "I have got the
other fellows' keys," quoth the master. "Then pray, master, keep them,
and you and I will shut them all out." "Sir, I expect to be obliged;
am I not your master?" "Yes, sir (said Gurnay;) and am I not your
fellow?" At another time he was complained of to the bishop, for
refusing to wear the surplice, and was cited to appear before him, and
told, that he expected he should always wear it; whereupon, he came
home, and rode a journey with it on. This reminds one of


Then Mr. afterwards Lord Lyttleton, to whom the epithet of
"_Reprobus_," they say, might have been applied with more justice than
it was to the famous Saxon Bishop, St. Wulstan, by the monks of his
day. Humour was his lordship's natural element, and whilst resident at
Christ Church, Oxford, he dressed himself in a bright scarlet hunting
coat, top-boots and spurs, buckskin breeches, &c., and putting his
gown over all, presented himself to the head of his college, who was a
strict disciplinarian. "Good God! Mr. Lyttleton," exclaimed the Dean,
"this is not a dress fit to be seen in a college." "I beg your
pardon," said the wag, "I thought myself in perfect costume! Will you
be pleased to tell me how I should dress, Mr. Dean?" The dean was at
this time Vice-Chancellor, and happened to be in his robes of office.
"You should dress like me, Sir," said the Doctor, referring to his
black coat, tights, knee-buckles, and silk stockings. Mr. Lyttleton
thanked him and left, but to the Doctor's astonishment, he the next
day presented himself at the Deanery, drest in Vice-Chancellor's
robes, &c., an exact fac-simile of the dean himself, and when rebuked
coolly observed, that he had followed the dean's directions to the


That having a party to supper with him, and being anxious to play the
Dean some harmless trick, as his delight was to annoy him, he seized a
potato off the dish, stuck it on a fork, and bolted off with it to the
deanery, followed by some of his boon companions. This was at one,
two, or three in the morning, when all the rest of the college, and of
course the Dean, were locked in the embrace of Somnus. Mr. Lyttleton,
however, resolving to have his joke, began thundering away at the
Dean's knocker, till roused at last, he put his head out at the
window, and in a rage demanded the wants of the applicant. "Do you
think, Mr. Dean," said Mr. L., holding up to his view the _forked_
potato with the coolest effrontery imaginable; "Do you think, Mr.
Dean, that this is a potato fit to put upon a gentleman's table?" Dr.
Westphalinge, Canon of Christ Church, afterwards Bishop of Hereford,
and one of the Commissioners sent to Oxford to abolish _Popish
practices_, by Elizabeth, says Bishop Godwyn,


"That during a familiar acquaintance with him for many years, he never
once saw him laugh,"--"_Nunquam in risum viderim solutum_." As an
antidote to such eternal gravity, I can scarcely do better than append
the following Aristophanic morsel, attributed to Porson, and cry
"Hold, enough!" Chorus of Printers' Imps--"Enough!"


  [Greek: Blankêtoi, kyltoi, duo bolsteres, êde pilôbêr
  Kai en matresson, kai leukon kaliko kirten,
  Kai mia karpettê, kai cheston maiganoion
  Eis kaunterpannos, kai graton kasto sidêzon
  Êde duô bouroi, duo tabloi, kai duo dittô.
  Touelloi dôsen, dôsen phaukoi te, niphoi te
  Sautpan kai steupan, spitton kai smôkon iakon
  Gridiron, pheirpan, tongoi, phendêr te, pokêr te,
  Koppêz kai boilêr kai killêr êde syeltob.
  Kai en baskêton kata bakchous, kai duo pottyx,
  Kai en drippinpan, kuleres duo, kai salamandêr
  Kai duo p**pottoi, spittinpan, peip te to bakchô.]


       *       *       *       *       *

                                                 CHESNUT STREET,
                                                          JUNE, 1835

                              NEW WORKS
                          LATELY PUBLISHED,
                      PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION,
                    E. L. CAREY & A. HART, PHILAD.

                       In Three Volumes, 12mo.

                           JACOB FAITHFUL;
                       OR, LIFE ON THE WATER.

          By the Author of "PETER SIMPLE," "KING'S OWN," &c.

"It is replete with amusement and oddity. Poor Jacob was born on the
water. 'It was,' says he, 'in a floating sort of a box, called a
lighter, and upon the river Thames, that I first smelt the
mud.'"--_Baltimore Gazette._

"Equal in merit to Peter Simple, and perhaps even more entertaining,
are the adventures of Jacob Faithful, another of the whimsical
creations of Captain Marryatt's prolific brain."--_Saturday Courier._

"It is full of character and incident, and will, we doubt not, be a
universal favourite."--_Lit. Gaz._

                       In Three Volumes, 12mo.

                            PETER SIMPLE;
                   OR, ADVENTURES OF A MIDSHIPMAN.

       By the Author of the "KING'S OWN," "NAVAL OFFICER," &c.

"The quiet humour which pervades the work is irresistibly amusing, and
the fund of anecdote and description which it contains, entertaining.
The humour sometimes approaches to downright burlesque, and the
incident to extravagance, if not improbability; but, altogether, as a
book of amusement, it is excellent."--_Baltimore Gazette._

"Those who are the most competent to judge, say that Captain Marryatt
is altogether superior to any other writer of naval sketches or
descriptions, living or dead."--_N. Y. Commercial Advertiser._

"This is the best work that Captain Marryatt has produced."--_Atlas._

"'Peter Simple' is certainly the most amusing of Captain Marryatt's
amusing novels; a species of picture quite unique; a class by
themselves, full of humour, truth, and graphic sketches."--_Literary

"This is an admirable work, and worthy of the noble service it is
written to illustrate."--_Spectator._

                          CELEBRATED TRIALS,

   In One large volume, 8vo., containing 600 closely printed pages.


    John Thurtell and Joseph Hunt, for the murder of William
    Ware, at Hertford, January, 1824.

    Henry Fauntleroy, Esq., for forgery, at the Old Bailey,
    October 30, 1824.

    Anna Schonleben (Germany), for poisoning, 1808.

    John Docke Rouvelett, for forgery, 1806.

    John Holloway and Owen Haggerty, for the murder of John Cole
    Steele, on Hounslow-heath, February 22, 1807.

    The unknown Murderer, or the Police at fault (Germany), 1817.

    Thomas Simmons, for murder, Oct. 20, 1807.

    Major Alexander Campbell, for the murder of Captain Alexander
    Boyd, at Armagh, in a duel, 1807.

    James Stuart, for the murder of Sir Alexander Boswell, in a
    duel, 1822.

    Martha Alden, for murder, 1807.

    Francis S. Riembauer, for assassination, 1805.

    Eliza Fenning, for an attempt to poison Mr. Olibar Turner and
    family, April 11, 1815.

    William Jones, for murder.

    Abraham Thornton, for the murder of Mary Ashford, 1817.

    Castaing, the physician, for murder, at Paris, November,

    John Donellan, Esq., for the murder of Sir Theodosius Edward
    Allesly Boughton; before the Hon. Sir Francis Buller, 1781.

    Sir Walter Raleigh, for high-treason, in the reign of James
    I., A.D. 1602.

    James O'Coigley, Arthur O'Connor, John Binns, John Allen, and
    Jeremiah Leary, for high-treason; at Maidstone, 1798.

    Miss Ann Broadric, for the murder of Mr. Errington, 1795.

    William Corder, for the murder of Maria Marten, 1827.

    William Codlin, for scuttling a ship, 1802.

    Joseph Wall, for the murder of Benjamin Armstrong, at Goree,

    Vice-admiral Byng, for neglect of duty; at a court-martial,
    held on board his majesty's ship the St. George, in
    Portsmouth harbour, 1757.

    Richard Savage, the poet, James Gregory, and William
    Merchant, for the murder of James Sinclair, 1727.

    Admiral Keppel, for neglect of duty, July, 1778, at a

    Sir Hugh Palliser, Vice-admiral of the Blue, for neglect of
    duty, 1779.

    Sarah Metyard and Sarah M. Metyard, for murder, 1768.

    John Bishop, Thomas Williams, and James May, for the murder
    of Charles Ferriar, 1831.

    Sawney Cunningham, executed at Leith, 1635, for murder.

    Sarah Malcolm, for the murder of Ann Price, 1733.

    Joseph Baretti, for the murder of Evan Morgan, 1769.

    Mungo Campbell, for murder, 1721.

    Lucretia Chapman, for the murder of William Chapman, late of
    Bucks county, Pennsylvania, 1832.

    Lino Amalto Espos y Mina, for the murder of William Chapman,
    at the same court, 1832.

    John Hatfield, for forgery, 1803.

    Trial by combat, between Henry Plantagenet, duke of Hereford
    and Lancaster, and afterwards king of England by the title of
    Henry IV., and Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk, earl-marshal
    of England, 1897.

    Captain John Gow and others, for piracy, 1729.

    William Burke and Helen McDougal for murder, 1828.

    Charles Macklin (the author), for the murder of Thomas
    Hallam, May 1735.

    Mary Young, _alias_ Jenny Diver, for privately stealing,

    George Henderson and Margaret Nisbet, for forging a bill on
    the dutchess of Gordon, 1726.

    John Chide, of Dalry, for the murder of the Right Hon. Sir
    George Lockhart, of Carnwith, lord-president of the court of
    sessions, and member of his majesty's privy council, 1689.

    William Henry, duke of Cumberland, for adultery with Lady
    Grosvenor, 1770.

    Robert and Daniel Perrean, for forgery, 1775.

    Margaret Caroline Rudd, for forgery, 1775.

    Henry White, Jr., for a libel on the duke of Cumberland,

    Philip Nicholson, for the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Bonar, at
    Maidstone, 1813.

    Mr. William Cobbett, for libel, in the court of King's Bench,

    John Bellingham, Esq., for the murder of the Right Hon.
    Spencer Perceval, chancellor of the exchequer, in the lobby
    of the House of Commons, May 11, 1811.

    Mary Stone, for child murder, preferred by her sister, at
    Surry assizes, 1817.

    Arthur Thistlewood, James Ings, and others, for high-treason,
    at the Old Bailey, 1820.

    Thomas, earl of Stafford, for high-treason, 1643.

  _Trial of the Rebels in_ 1745:

    Lords Kilmarnock, Cromartie, Balmerino, and Lovat.--Charles
    Ratcliffe, Esq.--Townley and Dawson.--Fletcher and
    Syddall.--Dr. Cameron.

    Rob Roy Macgregor, and other Macgregors, 1700 to 1746.

    Alexia Petrowitz Czarowitz, presumptive heir to the crown of
    Russia, condemned to death by his father, 1715.

    Joseph Hunton, a Quaker, for forgery, 1828.--His execution.

    Captain Witham Kidd, for murder and piracy, 1701.

    Remarkable case of witchcraft, before Matthew Hale, 1662.

    The Salem Witches.

  _Sufferers for pretended Witchcraft in Scotland._

    Alison Pearson.--Janet Grant and Janet Clark, 1828.--John
    Cunningham, 1590.--Agnes Sampson, 1591.--John Fien,
    1591.--Euphan M'Calzene, 1591.--Patrick Lawrie,
    1606.--Margaret Wallace, 1620.--Isobel Young,
    1629.--Alexander Hamilton, 1630.--John Neil, 1630.--Janet
    Brown and others, 1640.

    The Samuelston Witches--Isobel Elliot, and nine other women,

    Impostor of Barragan, 1696.

    Trial by combat, between Sir John Annesley, Knight, and
    Thomas Katrington, Esq., 1380.

    James George Lisle, _alias_ Major Semple, for stealing, 1795.

    Queen Emma, trial by fire-ordeal.

    John Horne Tooke, for high-treason, 1791.

    Joseph Thompson Hare, for mail-robbery in Virginia, 1818.

    Richard Carlile, for a libel, 1819.

  _Circumstantial Evidence_.

    Jonathan Bradford.--James Crow.--John Jennings.--Thomas
    Harris.--William Shaw.

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                         TRAVELS TO BOKHARA,
                       AND VOYAGE UP THE INDUS.

                          BY LIEUT. BURNES.

"Mr. Burnes is the first European of modern times who has navigated
the Indus. Many years have passed since the English Library has been
enriched with a book of travels, in value at all comparable with this.
Mr. Burnes is evidently a man of strong and masculine talents, high
spirit, and elegant taste, well qualified to tread in the steps of our
Malcolms and Elphinstones."--_London Quarterly Review._

"Though comparisons may be and often are odious, we do not think we
shall excite one resentful feeling, even among the travellers whose
productions we have reviewed during a course approaching twenty years,
when we say that so interesting a publication of that class as the
present, has not fallen under our notice."--_London Literary Gazette._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                    THE SKETCH-BOOK OF CHARACTER;
                      EXTRAORDINARY INDIVIDUALS:

    Exemplifying the Imperfections of circumstantial Evidence;
    illustrative of the Tendency of Credulity and Fanaticism; and
    recording singular Instances of voluntary human Suffering and
    interesting Occurrences. (_Nearly ready._)



    Arnaud du Tilh,
    The Demetriuses of Russia,
    Madam Tiquet,
    Francoeur, the Lunatic,
    Reneé Corbeau,
    Madame Rovere,
    The Diary of Luc Antonio Viterbi, who starved himself to death,
    The Italian Sleep-walker,
    William Lithgow, the Traveller
    Richard Peeke,
    James Crichton,
    Mother Damnable,
    Valentine Greatraks,
    James Naylor,
    Henry Jenkins,
    John Kelsey,
    Lodowick Muggleton,
    Mrs. Aphra Behn,
    Madame du Barré,
    Phebe Brown,
    The Mysterious Stranger,
    George Bruce,
    Mull'd Sack, a notorious Robber,
    Sir Jervas Yelvis,
    Archibald Armstrong, the Jester,
    The Two Brothers,
    Anne George Bellamy,
    Susanna Maria Cibber,
    Joseph Clark,
    Titus Oates, _alias_ Bob Ferguson,
    Thomas Venner,
    Colly Molly Puff,
    Eugene Aram,
    Matthew Hopkins, the Witch-finder,
    Jeffery Hudson,
    Blasil de Manfre,
    Henry Welby,
    Catharine, Countess Dowager of Schwartzburgh,
    Richard Savage,
    Lewis de Boissi,
    Reverend Father Arthur O'Leary,
    John Oliver,
    John Overs,
    John Bigg,
    Mrs. Corbett,
    Charlotte Maria Anne Victoire Cordey,
    Daniel Dancer, Esq.
    Rev. George Harvest,
    S. Bisset, the animal Teacher,
    Roger Crab,
    Rigep Dandulo,
    Augustine Barbara Vanbeck,
    The Chevalier D'Eon,
    Widow of Ephesus,
    Mary Frith,
    Anne Day,
    Countess of Desmond,
    Colonel Thomas Blood,
    Jane Lane,
    Mary Carleton,
    Jack Adams,
    Samuel Boyce,
    Peter the Wild Boy,
    Charles Price, _alias_ the Social Monster,
    George Alexander Stevens,
    Peter Isaac Thelluson,
    George Villiers,
    Hon. Mrs. Godfrey,
    Lady Godiva,
    John Philip Barretier,
    Oliver Cromwell's Porter,
    Robert Hill, the Learned Tailor of Buckingham,
    Charlotte Hutton,
    Mrs. Day,
    The Abbe Sieyes,
    Countess of Strathmore
    Elizabeth Perkins,
    Margaret Lamburne,
    Ninon De L'Enclos,
    Madame Des Houlieres,
    Mrs. Levy,
    Mrs. Lloyd,
    Madame de Maintenon,
    Catherine de Medicis,
    La Maupin.


    John Calas,
    Elizabeth Canning,
    Le Brun,
    Richard Coleman,
    Jonathan Bradford,
    James Crow,
    John Orme,
    John Jennings,
    Girl at Liege,
    Thomas Harris,
    John Miles,
    A man tried and convicted for the murder of his own father,
    William Shaw,
    Monsieur D'Anglade and his family,
    Joan Perry and her two sons,
    La Pivardiere,
    Duke Dorgan, a story of Irish Life,
    William Richardson.


    A Female Monster, (effects of ignorance and superstition,)
    Yetser, the Fanatic,
    The Holy Relics,
    Jerome Savonarola,
    Simon Morin,
    Robert Francis Damiens,
    Assassination of the King of Portugal,
    Francois Michel,
    St. Pol de Leon,
    Mr. Stukeley, (eccentric Self-delusion),
    Peter Rombert, the Fanatic of Carolina.


    Simeon Stylites,
    Indian Widows,
    Funeral Rites,
    Conscientious Murder,
    Conscientious Hindoo,
    Female Infanticide,
    Processions of Penitents in Spain and Portugal,
    Penance by Proxy,
    The Indian Penance of Five Fires,
    Matthew Loval.


    The Miners of Bois-Monzil,
    Jaques du Moulin, (the uncertainty of human testimony,)
    Remarkable discovery of a Murder,
    Charles the Twelfth,
    Whimsical Marriage,
    Algerine Conspiracy,
    Extraordinary Adventure,
    Otway's Orphan,
    Prison Escapes,
      Porral and others,
    Reign of Terror,
    Remarkable Trial for Murder,
    Singular Adventure,
    Jemmy Taylor.

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                            MAGPIE CASTLE.

                           BY THEODORE HOOK.
                           AND OTHER TALES.

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.


                           BY SAMUEL LOVER.

"Here is a genuine Irish story-book, of the most amusing character.
Mr. Lover shows us how to tell a tale in the real Irish manner. We see
the people; we hear them; they are dramatized as they exist in nature;
and all their peculiarities are touched with a master's hand."--_Lit.

                       In Three Volumes, 12mo.

                          THE PORT ADMIRAL.

                     By the Author of "CAVENDISH."

"A work full of interest and variety. The scenes are traced with a
powerful hand."--_Sunday Times._

"These volumes will make a stir in what an old writer calls the
'wooden world.' They touch too severely upon blemishes in the
discipline, manners, opinions, and principles of our maritime
government, not to be eagerly examined and perhaps sharply discussed
by naval men."--_Athenæum._

                         In One Volume, 8vo.

                     CAPTAIN ROSS'S LAST VOYAGE.

Narrative of a Second Voyage in search of a North-west Passage, and of
a Residence in the Arctic Regions, during the Years 1829, 1830, 1831,
1832, and 1833. By Sir JOHN ROSS, C. B., K. S. A., &c. Including the
Reports of Commander J. C. ROSS, and the discovery of the Northern
Magnetic Pole. _With a large Map._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                           THE KING'S OWN;
                          A TALE OF THE SEA.

      By the Author of "THE NAVAL OFFICER," "PETER SIMPLE" etc.

"An excellent novel."--_Edinburg Review._

"Captain Marryat may take his place at the head of the naval novelists
of the day."--_United Service Journal._

"The adventures of the hero, through bold and stirring scenes, lose
not a jot of their interest to the last, while the naval descriptions
of sights and deeds on shipboard may be compared with any similar
production of which we have any knowledge."--_Atlas._

"A very remarkable book, full of vigour, and characterized by
incidents of perfect originality, both as to conception and treatment.
Few persons will take up the book without going fairly through it to
the catastrophe, which startles the reader by its unexpected
nature."--_Literary Gazette._

"Replete with genius. The work will go far permanently to fix the name
of Captain Marryat among the most popular and successful writers of
fiction of the age."--_Felix Farley's Bristol Journal._

"A work, perhaps, not to be equalled in the whole round of romance,
for the tremendous power of its descriptions, for the awfulness of its
subjects, and for the brilliancy and variety of the colours with which
they are painted."--_Spectator._

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                            AN ACCOUNT OF
                          COLONEL CROCKETT'S
                   TOUR TO THE NORTH AND DOWN EAST,

In the Year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and thirty-four.
His Object being to examine the grand manufacturing Establishments of
the Country; and also, to find out the Condition of its Literature and
Morals, the Extent of its Commerce, and the practical Operation of
"_The Experiment_."

                    WITH A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR.

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                          COLONEL CROCKETT'S
                          LIFE OF VAN BUREN.

THE LIFE OF MARTIN VAN BUREN, Heir-apparent to the "Government," and
the appointed Successor of General Andrew Jackson. Containing every
authentic Particular by which his extraordinary Character has been
formed. With a concise History of the Events that have occasioned his
unparalleled Elevation; together with a Review of his Policy as a

                         In Two Volumes 12mo.

                        THE NAVAL SKETCH-BOOK.

                         BY CAPTAIN GLASCOCK.

"In 'The Naval Sketch-book' there are dozens of 'delicious bits,'
which, we are sure, will delight our readers."--_John Bull._

"The book abounds with animated sketches of naval opinions and
character, described to that style which only a thorough-bred seaman
can handle."--_Times._

"We do not think that there ever was a more _sailorly_ publication
than this."--_Literary Gazette._

"Unquestionably Captain Glascock is inferior to none as a humorous and
talented naval writer. His descriptions are true to nature, and his
dialogues full of life and entertainment; in short, his _Sketches_
have all the characteristics of a true British seaman."--_Naval and
Military Gazette._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                           THE BLACK WATCH.

                            BY T. PICKEN.
               By the Author of the "DOMINIE'S LEGACY."

"One of the most powerful and pathetic fictions which have recently

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                        TALES OF A PHYSICIAN.

                          BY W. H. HARRISON.


"We cannot withhold from these tales the praise which is due to
elegant composition, when intended to promote the cause of morality
and religion. In point of elegance, simplicity, and interest, few are
so attractive."--_Record._

"Graceful in language, displaying cultivated taste."--_Literary

"We welcome it with pleasure--they are told in a pleasant style, and
with great feeling."--_Athenæum._

"Evidently the production of an experienced essayist: there is not
only considerable power of invention manifested in them, but the
diction is always pure, and at times lofty. We should say, he will
occupy a very high station among the writers of the day."--_British

"We cannot withhold from the author of the work before us the warm
praise due to its pious design, and decidedly instructive character.
The 'Tales of a Physician' are written with very considerable talent.
The idea is a happy one."--_Eclectic Review._

"A vein of amiable and highly moral feeling runs through the whole
volume."--_Monthly Review._

"The book is well written--an amusing addition to the works of the
season."--_New Monthly Magazine._

"There is a high moral tone throughout."--_Spirit and Manners of the

                          (_Nearly ready_.)

                       THE HIGHLAND SMUGGLERS.

                           BY J. B. FRAZER.
                      Author of the "KUZZILBASH."

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                          LETTERS AND ESSAYS,
                          IN PROSE AND VERSE.

                           BY RICHARD SHARP.

"Messrs. Carey & Hart have reprinted the Letters and Essays of Richard
Sharp, in a beautiful little volume. These excellent productions fully
deserve the distinction of neatest dress. They are _sterling
literature_."--_National Gazette._

"What a pleasant volume! It is the delightful and instructive writing
of a cultivated mind upon ordinary occasions and subjects; and the
sound sense and elegant literature with which they are treated afford
a great treat for judgment and taste to appropriate."--_Literary

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                       THE PACHA OF MANY TALES.
                 By the Author of "PETER SIMPLE," &c.

                             ADVENTURES OF
                    JAPHET IN SEARCH OF HIS FATHER.
         By the Author of "JACOB FAITHFUL," "KING'S OWN," &c.

                             (_In Press._)

                       In Three Volumes, 12mo.

                          TOM CRINGLE'S LOG.


"The scenes are chiefly nautical, and we can safely say that no author
of the present day, not even excepting our own Cooper, has surpassed
him in his element."--_U. S. Gazette._

"The sketches are not only replete with entertainment, but useful, as
affording an accurate and vivid description of scenery, and of life
and manners in the West Indies."--_Boston Traveller._

"We think none who have read this work will deny that the author is
the best nautical writer who has yet appeared. He is not Smollett, he
is not Cooper; but he is far superior to them both."--_Boston

"The scenes are chiefly nautical, and are described in a style of
beauty and interest never surpassed by any writer."--_Baltimore

"The author has been justly compared with Cooper, and many of his
sketches are in fact equal to any from the pen of our celebrated
countryman."--_Saturday Evening Post._

"A pleasant but a marvellously strange and wild amalgamation of water
and earth is 'Tom Cringle;' full of quips and cranks, and toils and
pranks. A fellow of fun and talent is he, with a prodigious taste for
yarns, long and short, old and new; never, or but seldom, carrying
more sail than ballast, and being a most delightful companion, both by
land and sea. We were fascinated with the talents of Tom when we met
him in our respected contemporary from the biting north. His Log was
to us like a wild breeze of ocean, fresh and health-giving, with now
and then a dash of the tearful, that summoned the sigh from our heart
of hearts; but now that the yarns are collected and fairly launched,
we hail them as a source of much gratification at this dull season.
_Tom Cringle and a Christmas fire! may well join in the chorus of
'Begones dull care!_'--The 'Quenching of the Torch' as one of the most
pathetic descriptions we over read. The 'Scenes at Jamaica' are full
of vigour. As a whole, we have no hesitation in pronouncing 'The Log'
the most entertaining book of the season. There has been a sort of
Waverley mystery thrown over the authorship of these charming papers;
and though many have guessed the author, yet we take unto ourselves
the credit of much sagacity in imagining that we only have solved the
enigma:--there are passages in 'Tom Cringle' that we believe no living
author except Professor Wilson himself could write; _snatches of pure,
exalted, and poetic feeling, so truly Wilsonian, that we penciled them
as we read on, and said, There he is again, and again, and again; to
the very last chapter_."--_New Monthly Magazine._

                       THE CRUISE OF THE MIDGE.
                 By the Author of "TOM CRINGLE'S LOG."

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                        THE MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN.
                 By the Author of "TOM CRINGLE'S LOG."

"No stories of adventures are more exciting than those of seamen. The
warrior of Tom Cringle's Log is the most popular writer of that class,
and those sketches collected not long since into a volume by the same
publishers, in this city, were universally read. A large edition was
soon exhausted. The present is, we believe, an earlier production, and
has many of the same merits."--_Baltimore Gazette._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                          THE PORT ADMIRAL;
                          A TALE OF THE SEA.
                    By the Author of "CAVENDISH."

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                     LIVES OF THE ENGLISH PIRATES,
                       HIGHWAY-MEN, AND ROBBERS.

                         BY CHARLES WHITEHEAD.

"These are truly entertaining volumes, fraught with anecdote, and
abounding in extraordinary adventures."--_Naval and Military Gazette._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                       OR, THE PATRICIAN AT SEA.

        _The following Notice is from the pen of Mr. Bulwer._

"The peculiar characteristics of Captain Marryatt are shared by some
of his nautical brethren; and the author of 'Cavendish' has evinced
much ability and very vigorous promise in the works that have issued
from his pen."

"We should find it very difficult to be very angry with the
'Patrician,' even if he had fifty times his real number of faults, on
account of the jovial, easy, reckless, off-hand style of character
that seems to belong to him. Our sea portraits multiply so fast, and
advance so rapidly in excellence, that we become fastidious, and
insist upon a likeness where formerly we were contented with a
caricature. 'Cavendish' partakes of both.... Into these thousand or
rather ten thousand scrapes, we cannot follow him, but the reader may,
much to his advantage. The Navarine narrative, in particular, will be
read with an interest proportioned to the truth and spirit with which
it is told."--_New Monthly Magazine._

         New and cheap Edition, in Two Volumes, 12mo., of the

                          MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ,

"But it is not our province or intention to enter into a discussion of
the veracity of Vidocq's Memoirs: be they true or false; were they
purely fiction from the first chapter to the last, they would, from
fertility of invention, knowledge of human nature, and ease of style,
rank only second to the novels of Le Sage. The first volume is perhaps
more replete with interest, because the hero is the leading actor in
every scene; but in the subsequent portions, when he gives the
narrative of others, we cannot but admire the power and graphic talent
of the author. Sergeant Bellerose is scarcely inferior to the Sergeant
Kite of Farquhar and the episodes of Court and Raoul, and that of
Adele d'Escara, are surpassed in description, depth of feeling, and
pathos, by no work of romance with which we are acquainted."

                     _From the Boston Traveller._

"MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ.--He who reads this book, being previously
unacquainted with the mystery of iniquity, will find himself
introduced at once into a new world: but it is a world which must be
known only to be avoided. Never before was such a mass of depravity
opened to the mind of inquiry in a single volume. It was well said by
Byron, "truth is strange, stranger than fiction." Whoever passes
through the details of this singular exposition, supposing it to
contain correct delineations of fact, will be satisfied of the
justness of this remark.

"The details of the varied scenes through which he has passed in
private and public life, surpass all the creations of fancy, and all
the delineations of fact, from the wonderful relations of the Arabian
Nights to the renowned exploits of Mr. Lemuel Gulliver; and from the
extraordinary sufferings and escapes of the celebrated Baron Trenck to
the still more marvellous exploits of the famous Mr. Thomas Thumb.

"It would seem, on following this singular writer through his
adventures, as if all the crimes of which human nature is capable, all
the horrors of which the universe has heard, all the astonishing
incidents which history can dovelop or imagination portray, all the
cold-blooded malice of the assassin, and all the varied machinations
of the most ingenious and systematic practitioners in the school of
vice, in all its varied departments, had been crowded into the life of
a single individual, or come beneath his cognizance. The lover of
mystery, who delights to "sup upon horrors," the admirer of romance,
who is pleased with the heightened pictures of the most fanciful
imagination, and the inquirer into the policy of crime and its
prevention, may here have their utmost curiosity satiated.

"Vidocq, during the early portion of his life, was personally
initiated into all the mysteries of crime, and becoming afterward a
pardoned man, and an active and successful agent of the French police
in the city of Paris, "girt with its silent crimes," as well as its
tumultuous depravities, becomes a fit person to delineate its scenes
of vice, depravity, and guilt. His work is a study for the novelist,
the annalist, the philosopher, and the Christian. But it is a work
which should be read with a guarded mind; with it disposition to
profit by its lessons, and to avoid scenes which have little
enjoyment, and which invariably end in misery."

                         In Two Volumes 12mo.

                           THE HAMILTONS.
               By the Author of "MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS."

"This is a fashionable novel, and of the highest grade."--_Athenæum._

"Mrs. Gore is undeniably one of the wittiest writers of the present
day. 'The Hamiltons' is a most lively, clever, and entertaining
work."--_Lit. Gaz._

"The design of the book is new, and the execution excellent."--_Exam._

                         In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                             TOUGH YARNS;


                          BY THE OLD SAILOR.

"Here, most placable reader, is a title for thee, pregnant with fun,
and deeply prophetic of humour, drollery, and all those joyous
emotions that so opportunely come to oil the springs of the overworn
heart, and prevent the cankering and rust from wearing them away and
utterly destroying their healthful elasticity."--_Metropolitan._

"The Old Sailor paints sea scenes with vigour and gusto; now-and-then
reminding us of 'Tom Cringle,' and with a strong sense of the comical
that approaches Smollet."--_Spectator._

"Here we have the 'Old Sailor' once more, and in all his glory too!
The public will join with us in hailing the reappearance of the 'old'
boy. He stands at the head of the naval humorists of the nineteenth
century. We have rarely seen an affair so richly humorous: it is one
of the most amusing and best written volumes of naval fiction we have
ever seen."--_Observer._

                       In Three Volumes, 12mo.

                            THE COQUETTE.
                    By the Author of "MISERRIMUS."

"The 'Coquette' is a most amusing library book. Several of the
characters are exceedingly well drawn: indeed, they are obviously
sketches from life, and there is a sparkling vivacity throughout the
whole work."--_New Monthly Magazine._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                      THE MISERIES OF MARRIAGE;
                      OR, THE FAIR OF MAY FAIR.

                  By the Author of "PIN MONEY," &c.

"Mrs. Gore certainly stands at the head of the female novelists of the
day. But we subjoin the opinion of Mr. Bulwer."--_U. S. Gazette._

"She is the consummator of that undefinable species of wit, which we
should call (if we did not know the word might be deemed offensive, in
which sense we do not mean it) the _slang_ of good society.

"But few people ever painted, with so felicitous a hand, the scenery
of worldly life, without any apparent satire. She brings before you
the hollowness, the manoeuvres, and the intrigues of the world, with
the brilliancy of sarcasm, but with the quiet of simple narrative. Her
men and women, in her graver tales, are of a noble and costly clay;
their objects are great; their minds are large, their passions intense
and pure. She walks upon the stage of the world of fashion, and her
characters, have grown dwarfed as if by enchantment. The air of
frivolity has blighted their stature; their colours are pale and
languid; they have no generous ambition; they are little people! they
are fine people! This it is that makes her novel of our social life so
natural, and so clear a transcript of the original."--_The Author of

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                     SOME PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF
                     SIR PUMPKIN FRIZZLE, K. C. B.
                           AND OTHER TALES.

"Decidedly one of the most amusing productions of the year. In
addition to the adventures of _Sir Pumpkin_, there are several capital
stories, which cannot fail to be popular."

                         In One Volume, 8vo.

                            MEMOIRS OF THE
                        BEAUTIES OF THE COURT
                        OF CHARLES THE SECOND.

                           BY MRS. JAMESON.

"NEW WORK.--Messrs. Carey & Hart, Philadelphia, have in press a
popular book, 'The Beauties of the Court of King Charles the Second,'
written by Mrs. Jameson, whose father had been employed by the
princess Charlotte to paint cabinet pictures of those too celebrated
ladies. The princess died before they were completed, and the
consequence was, they were never paid for. The circumstances of the
family required some use should be made of the paintings to produce a
remuneration; and Mrs. Jameson undertook the delicate task of the
letter press, the portraits being engraved in the highest style of
art. The London copy costs about twenty-five dollars: the American
edition will be an octavo without the portraits. Nell Gwynn, the
Duchess of Hamilton, &c. are not unknown characters in history. Mrs.
Jameson has executed her department in a remarkably graceful
manner."--_Journal of Belles Lettres._

                              MEMOIRS OF
                      GREAT MILITARY COMMANDERS

                          BY G. R. P. JAMES,
             Author of "DARNLEY," "HENRY MASTERTON," &c.

    Including Henry V. of England; John, Duke of Bedford;
    Gonzales de Cordova; Ferdinand, Duke of Alva; Oliver
    Cromwell; Marshal Turenne; The Great Condé; General Monk;
    Duke of Albemarle; Duke of Marlborough; The Earl of
    Peterborough; Marquess of Granby; General Wolfe, &c. &c.

"That Mr. James should have been eminently successful in portraying
the lives of illustrious military commanders is not surprising; for it
is well known that martial achievements have long been his favourite
study."--_Morning Post._

"A more interesting series of memoirs could not be presented to the
curiosity of readers, inasmuch as in the lives of such men romantic
adventures of the most exciting kind co-exist with the strictest

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                             ALLEN BRECK.

                               BY GLEIG,
                      Author of the "SUBALTERN."

"The most striking production of Mr. Gleig."--_U. S. Journal._

"One of the most powerful and highly wrought tales we ever
read."--_Edinburg Review._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.


                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                          LIFE OF A SOLDIER
                         BY A FIELD-OFFICER.

"A narrative of twenty-seven years' service in various parts of the
world, possessing all the interest of the wildest fiction."--_Sun._

                           IN PREPARATION,

                              THE GIFT;
                              FOR 1836.

       Edited by MISS LESLIE, author of "PENCIL SKETCHES," &c.

    Among the contributors will be found Washington Irving, Mrs.
    Butler, J. K. Paulding, G. W. Simms, Miss Sedgwick, Miss
    Leslie, &c. &c.


    A Portrait of Miss Kemble, engraved by _Cheney_.
    Smuggler's Repose,              "      _Tucker_.
    The Orphans,                    "      _Welch_.
    Soliciting a Note,              "      _Ellis_.
    John Anderson, my Jo!           "      _Lawson_.
    Prawn Fishers,                  "      _Graham_.
    Death of the Stag,              "      _Tucker_.
    Mirkwood Mere,                  "      _Graham_.
    A Portrait,                     "      _Illman_.

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                      TRAITS AND STORIES OF THE
                           IRISH PEASANTRY

                            FIRST SERIES.

"Admirable--truly, intensely Irish: never were the outrageous
whimsicalities of that strange, wild, imaginative people so
characteristically described; nor amidst all the fun, frolic, and
folly, is there any dearth of poetry, pathos, and passion. The
author's a jewel."--_Glasgow Journal._

"To those who have a relish for a few titbits of rale Irish
story-telling,--whether partaking of the tender or the facetious,
or the grotesque,--let them purchase these characteristic
sketches."--_Sheffield Iris._

"The sister country has never furnished such sterling genius, such
irresistibly humorous, yet faithful sketches of character among the
lower ranks of Patlanders, as are to be met with in the pages of these
delightful volumes."--_Bristol Journal._

"This is a capital book, full of fun and humour, and most
characteristically Irish."--_New Monthly Magazine._

"Neither Miss Edgeworth, nor the author of the O'Hara Tales, could
have written any thing more powerful than this."--_Edinburgh Literary

                        In two Volumes, 12mo.

                      TRAITS AND STORIES OF THE
                           IRISH PEASANTRY.

                            THIRD SERIES.

"This work has been most extravagantly praised by the English critics:
and several extracts from it have been extensively published in our
newspapers. It is altogether a better work than any of the kind which
has yet appeared--replete with humour, both broad and delicate--and
with occasional touches of pathos, which have not been excelled by any
writer of the present day. An Edinburgh critic says that 'neither Miss
Edgeworth, nor the author of the O'Hara tales, could have written any
thing more powerful than this.'"--_Baltimore American._

                        In two Volumes, 12mo.

                              PIN MONEY;

                        By MRS. CHARLES GORE,
         Authoress of "HUNGARIAN TALES," "POLISH TALES," etc.

"Her writings have that originality which wit gives to reality, and
wit is the great characteristic of her pages."--_Bulwer's New Monthly

"Light spirited and clever, the characters are drawn with truth and
vigour. Keen in observation, lively in detail, and with a peculiar and
piquant style, Mrs. Charles Gore gives to the novel that charm which
makes the fascination of the best French memoir writers."--_London
Literary Gazette._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                      OR, THE LAND OF THE SAVAGE.

"One of the most interesting and graphic romances it has been our lot
to read for many a year."--_Athenæum._

"There was yet an untrodden land for the writer of fiction, and the
author of 'Makanna' is its discoverer."--_Atlas._

"The narrative includes some daring adventures which would make timid
blood shudder at their magnitude.... This work abounds in interest and
is written in a style of great vigour and elegance."--_Weekly Times._

"The work does not want to be invested with any fictitious interest;
end the talent which is visible in its pages is its best
recommendation to public favour."--_Morning Post._

"The attempt was a bold and hazardous one, but it has been fully
successful. We have rarely read a production of deeper interest--of
interest sustained from the first page to the last. It has been
conceived in a fine spirit; the several characters are ably
painted.... He is as much at home on the ocean, and there are many
scenes on ship-board equal to the best of the great sea-lord, the
author of 'The Spy.'"--_New Monthly Magazine._

                         In One Volume, 18mo.

                         COLMAN'S BROAD GRINS.
                    A NEW EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS.

"'This is a little volume of the comic,' which we recollect to have
laughed over many a time, in our boyish days, and since. It is old
standard fun--a comic classic."--_Baltimore Gazette._

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                     THE LIFE OF DAVID CROCKETT,
                          OF WEST TENNESSEE.

                         WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                       A SUBALTERN IN AMERICA;


                          In One Volume, 8vo.

                          SELECT SPEECHES OF
                            JOHN SERGEANT,
                           OF PENNSYLVANIA.

                         In one Volume, 12mo.

                        THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK.

"It is very clever and very entertaining--replete with pleasantry and
humour: quite as imaginative as any German diablerie, and far more
amusing than most productions of its class. It is a very whimsical and
well devised jeu d'esprit."--_Literary Gazette._

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                      FIVE NIGHTS OF ST. ALBANS.

"Some man of talent has taken up the old story of the Wandering Jew,
to try what he could make of a new version of it. He has succeeded in
composing as pretty a piece of _diablerie_ as ever made candles burn
blue at midnight. The horrors of _Der Freischutz_ are mere child's
play compared with the terrors of the Old Man or the demon Amaimon;
and yet all the thinking and talking portion of the book is as shrewd
and sharp as the gladiatorial dialogues of Shakspeare's

"A romance, called the '_Five Nights of St. Albans_,' has just
appeared, which combines an extraordinary power of description with an
enchaining interest. It is just such a romance as we should imagine
Martin, the painter, would write; and, to say the truth, the
description of supernatural effects in the book, fall very little
short in their operation upon different senses of the magical
illusions of the talented artist."--_John Bull._

                       In Three Volumes, 12mo.

                          FRANCESCA CARRARA.

                             BY L. E. L.

"But in prose she lives with us: now sanctifying; now satirizing; now
glittering with the French in their most brilliant court, playing with
diamonds and revelling in wit; then reposing on one of the finest
creations that human _genius ever called into existence--the holy
friendship of Guido and Francesca_. The whole range of modern fiction
offers nothing like the portraiture of these two cousins; it is at
once beautiful and sublime, and yet perfectly natural and true."--_New
Monthly Magazine._

"A sparkling and brilliant performance. The observations on life and
society have all the acuteness of Le Sage."--_Literary Gazette._

"A book of remarkable power and genius; unquestionably superior to any
other production of the present time, with the single exception of the
writings of the author of 'The Last Days of Pompeii.'"--_Examiner._

"A novel it is of beauty, grace, eloquence, noble thoughts, and tender
feelings, such as none but a lady--and a lady of exquisite genius,
too--could write."--_Fraser's Magazine._

                          (_Nearly ready._)

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                    THE PAINTER'S AND COLOURMAN'S
                           COMPLETE GUIDE;

Being a Practical Treatise on the Preparation of Colour, and their
application to the different kinds of Painting; in which is
particularly described the WHOLE ART OF HOUSE PAINTING. By P. F.
TINGRY, Professor of Chymistry, Natural History, and Mineralogy, in
the Academy of Geneva. First American, from the third London Edition,
corrected and considerably improved by a practical chymist.

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                       PICTURE OF PHILADELPHIA;

Or a brief account of the various institutions and public objects in
this Metropolis, forming a Guide for Strangers, accompanied by a new
Plan of the city. In a neat pocket volume.

                        In Two Volumes, 12mo.

                            SICILIAN FACTS.

                         In One Volume, 8vo.

                             THE AMERICAN
                       FLOWER GARDEN DIRECTORY,



    For every month in the year; with a description of the plants
    most desirable in each, the nature of the soil and situation
    best adapted to their growth, the proper season for
    transplanting, &c.; instructions for erecting a


    Also, table of soils most congenial to the plants contained
    in the work. The whole adapted to either large or small
    gardens, with lists of annuals, bienniels, and ornamental
    shrubs, contents, a general index, and a frontispiece of
    Camellia Fimbriata.

                         BY HIBBERT AND BUIST,

                              A WHISPER
                       TO A NEWLY-MARRIED PAIR.

        "Hail, wedded love! by gracious Heaven design'd,
        At once the source and glory of mankind."

"We solicit the attention of our readers to this publication, as one,
though small, of infinite value."--_Baltimore Minerva._

"'The Whisper' is fully deserving the compliments bestowed upon it,
and we join heartily in recommending it to our friends, whether
married or single--for much useful instruction may be gathered from
its pages."--_Lady's Book._

"The work contains some original suggestions that are just, and many
excellent quotations; some of her hints to the ladies should have been
whispered in a tone too low to be overheard by the men."--_Daily

                         In One Volume, 18mo.

                          PRINCIPLES OF THE
                      ART OF MODERN HORSEMANSHIP
                       FOR LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,

          Translated from the French, by DANIEL J. DESMOND.

THE ART OF HORSEMANSHIP.--This is the title of a neat little work
translated from the French of Mr. Lebeaud, by Daniel J. Desmond, Esq.
of this city, and just published by Carey & Hart. It gives full and
explicit directions for breaking and managing a horse, and goes into
detail on the proper mode of mounting, the posture in the saddle, the
treatment of the animal under exercise, &c. An appendix is added,
containing instructions for the _ladies_, in mounting and dismounting.

The Philadelphia public are under obligations to Mr. Desmond for this
translation. We have long needed a manual of horsemanship, to correct
the inelegant habits in which many of our riders indulge, and to
produce uniformity in the art of equitation. We see daily in our
streets, mounted men, who totter in their seats as if suffering under
an ague-fit; others who whip, spur, and rant, as if charging an enemy
in battle; and again others, of slovenly habits, with cramped knees,
and toes projecting outwards, who occupy a position utterly devoid of
every thing like ease, grace, or beauty. These things are
discreditable to our community, and earnestly do we hope, that this
book will have many attentive readers.--_Philadelphia Gazette._

                         In One Volume, 12mo

                       TWO HUNDRED RECEIPTS IN
                       DOMESTIC FRENCH COOKERY.

        By MISS LESLIE, Author of the "SEVENTY-FIVE RECEIPTS."

                           Price 50 cents.

"'The 200 Receipts by Miss Leslie,' published by Carey and Hart of
Philadelphia, has been much praised, and we think deservedly. The
selection of subjects made by the accomplished writer is of a most
tempting and tasteful description, and we must do her the justice to
say, that she has treated them in such an eloquent and forcible
manner, as to raise in the minds of all dispassionate readers the most
tender and pleasurable associations. We commend her to the careful
perusal and respect of all thrifty housewives."--_New York Mirror._


A collection of the most valuable Memoirs read to the
Medico-Chirurgical Societies of London and Edinburgh; the Association
of Fellows and Licentiates of the King and Queen's College of
Physicians in Ireland; the Royal Academy of Medicine of Paris; the
Royal Societies of London and Edinburgh; the Royal Academy of Turin;
the Medical and Anatomical Societies of Paris, &c. &c. &c.

                     Edited by ISAAC HAYS, M. D.

                         In One Volume, 8vo.

                             A PRACTICAL
                       COMPENDIUM OF MIDWIFERY:

    Being the course of Lectures on Midwifery, and on the Diseases
    of Women and Infants, delivered at St. Bartholomew's Hospital.

                    By the late ROBERT GOOCH, M. D.

"As it abounds, however, in valuable and original suggestions, it will
be found a useful book of reference."--_Drake's Western Journal._

                         In One Volume, 8vo.

                            AN ACCOUNT OF
                      SOME OF THE MOST IMPORTANT
                      DISEASES PECULIAR TO WOMEN;

                        BY ROBERT GOOCH, M. D.

"In this volume Dr. Gooch has made a valuable contribution to
practical medicine. It is the result of the observation and experience
of a strong, sagacious, and disciplined mind."--_Transylvania Journal
of Medicine._

"This work, which is now for the first time presented to the
profession in the United States, comes to them with high claims to
their notice."--_Drake's Western Journal._

                         In One Volume, 8vo.

                          TATE ON HYSTERIA.
                      A TREATISE ON "HYSTERIA."

                        BY GEORGE TATE, M. D.

"As public journalists, we take this occasion to return him our hearty
thanks for the pains he has taken to shed a new light on an obscure
and much-neglected topic."--_North Amer. Med. and Surg. Journ. No.

    _Extract of a Letter from_ EDWARD H. COURTENAY, _Professor of
           Mathematics_ in _the University of Pennsylvania_.

"The design of the author--that of furnishing a valuable collection of
rules and theorems for the use of such as are unable, from the want of
time and previous preparation, to investigate mathematical
principles--appears to have been very successfully attained in the
present volume. The information which it affords in various branches
of the pure and mixed Mathematics embraces a great variety of
subjects, is arranged conveniently, and is in general conveyed in
accurate and concise terms. To THE ENGINEER, THE ARCHITECT, THE
MECHANIC--indeed to all for whom results are chiefly necessary--the
work will doubtless form a very valuable acquisition."

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                         _BOLMAR'S LEVIZAC._

                                OF THE
                           FRENCH LANGUAGE;


                          BY M. DE LEVIZAC.

With numerous corrections and improvements, and with the addition of a
complete treatise on the _Genders of French Nouns_; as also with the
addition of all the French Verbs, both regular and irregular,
conjugated affirmatively, negatively, and interrogatively.

                            BY A. BOLMAR,
           Author of "KEY TO TELEMAQUE," "PHRASES," &c. &c.

                         In One Volume, 8vo.

                    _TEALE ON NEURALGIC DISEASES._

                              A TREATISE
                        ON NEURALGIC DISEASES,

                        THE SYMPATHETIC NERVE.

                       BY THOMAS PRIDGIN TEALE,

    _Member of the Royal College of Surgeons in London, of the
    Royal Medical Society of Edinburg, Senior Surgeon to the
    Leeds Public Dispensary._

"It is a source of genuine gratification to meet with a work of this
character, when it is so often our lot to be obliged to labour hard to
winnow a few grains of information from the great mass of dullness,
ignorance, and mistatement with which we are beset, and cannot too
highly recommend it to the attention of the profession."--_American
Journal of the Medical Sciences, No. X._

                         In One Volume, 12mo.

                          FORMULARY FOR THE
                      PREPARATION AND EMPLOYMENT
                         SEVERAL NEW REMEDIES.

                             M. MAGENDIE.

      With an Appendix containing the experience of the British
            Practitioners, with many of the new remedies.

                       BY JOSEPH HOULTON, M.D.

                         In One Volume, 8vo.

                            A TREATISE ON
                           LESSER SURGERY;
                                OR THE
                      MINOR SURGICAL OPERATIONS.

                        BY BOURGERY, D. M. P.
    Author of "A Complete Treatise on Human Anatomy, comprising
    Operative Medicine." Translated from the French, with notes
                         and an Appendix; by

    Copy of a letter from WILLIAM GIBSON, M. D. Professor of
    Surgery in the University of Pennsylvania.

                                   _Philadelphia, Nov. 5th_, 1833.

It gives me pleasure to say that the elementary work on Surgery, by M.
Bourgery, and now under translation by Drs. Roberts and Kissam of New
York, appears to me _well calculated for the use of students_. So far
as I can judge from examination of a small portion of the English
text, justice has been done by the translators to the author of the

                                                  W. GIBSON, M. D.
             _Professor of Surgery in the University of Pennsylvania_.

    Copy of a letter from GEORGE M'CLELLEN, M. D. Professor of
    Surgery in the Jefferson Medical College.

                                    _Philadelphia, Nov 6th, 1833._

Dear Sirs,

I have examined Bourgery's manual, or work on Lesser Surgery, and am
of opinion that it is an _excellent compend_, which contains a great
deal of matter that will be useful to students. The translation which
you are about to make, will deserve a large edition, and I have no
doubt will meet with a ready sale.

                                      Yours truly,
                                                   GEO. M'CLELLAN.

       *       *       *       *       *


1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.

2. Obvious errors in punctuation have been silently corrected.

3. The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version
these letters have been replaced with transliterations.

4. Certain words use oe ligature in the original.

5. Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies
in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been

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