Chapter 7

“Italiam fatoprofugus, Lavinaque venitLitora; * * * * *Errat Virgilius, forteprofuguserat.”

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 hison 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 thecanonical dressof 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, acassock, 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 50l.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 Cambridgewithouta 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, ‘mayyounever be forced, asIwas at Norwich, to sell that work—tomeso precious—from absolute and urgent necessity!’” “At one time of my life,” he said, “I had but 14l.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 theThirty-nine Articles, from which there is no doubt he conscientiously dissented; and when asked to subscribe his belief in the notorious Shakspeareforgeryof 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, forrelief 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 noEstablished 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 somealteration in the Liturgy, upon which he desired them to go into the next room by themselves, and bring in theirunanimous opinion on the disputed points. But they very soon returnedwithout 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 was.

“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 findfivefaults to theirone, 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 whichheart-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 wasa 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 hisOxoniensis 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.” Thiswill by no meansnowapply 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 calledscoutsin Oxford, and their office borders on what is generally understood by the wordvalet. The termGypis well applied from Γυπς, avulture, they being, in the broadest sense of the word, addicted toprey, and not over-scrupulous at bothpickingandstealing, in spite of the Decalogue. I had one evening had awine 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 theGypcame 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, Iwhistled(significant of recognition,) and down went the wine, glass and all, and out bolted ourgyp, whoactually blushedthe 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 theetherealcharms of the music so called, but for the invigorating liquor itself, had a habit, with the assistance of what is called ascrew-driver, but which might more aptly be termed ascrew-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 foundhalf seas over, as they say, with the remnantof 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 herseditiousposture. 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 breathIs sweeter than the flowers of earth:No—odious thought—it is, her noseIs redder than the reddest rose;Which she has long been very handyAt colouring withdrops 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 inwearing 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 twentysnobs, 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,—“Ihadnodessert 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 thedirty shirt fraternity, an invite and sumptuous entertainment at his expense! Of course, he did not remain in the house of such afree-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 ofgroceryare easily appropriated: nay, not only easily appropriated, but aduplicateorder is occasionally deliveredfor the benefit of the house. Some tradesmen have made

From various causes. I remember one man who, in six years, beginning life at thevery beginning, saved enough to retire upon an independence for the rest of his life. Did hechalk 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 beforcedto rectify.

Is a trick tradesmen have, in the Universities, ofpersuadingstudents to get into their debt, actually pressing their wares upon them, and then, when their books show sufficient reason, forsooth, theymake a mockassignment of their affairs over to their creditors, and somepettifoggingattorney 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 thepurchaser of his articles that credit would run to anylength he pleased: and so it does, and no longer. Such fellows should bemarked and cut! It is but justice to add, however, that these observations do not apply to that respectable class of tradesmen, of whom the studentshouldpurchase 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 clergymana fool. The divine, indignant, threatened to complain to the Bishop. “Do so,” was the reply, “and my Lord Bishop willconfirm you.”

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

“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 tohim. 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,retainyour opinion: but you cannotmaintainit.” 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 theirprivilege, but theirinfirmity. 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 Idoknow, and which youdo notknow,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 worddisciplineto theofficersof the army? It may be well enough for theprivates.” “Yes, sir, I do,” replied the Doctor, sternly: “It isdisciplinemakes the scholar, it isdisciplinemakes the soldier, it isdisciplinemakes the gentleman, and thewant of disciplinehas 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 readlittle, thoughtless, and knownothing.”

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 ashilling, which he won, after pushing it carefully to the bottom of his pocket and placing his hand upon it, with a kind ofmock 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 apenny,” 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 topunning, saying, it exposed thepovertyof 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 onlypar levibus ventis.” When he was solicited to subscribe to Dr. Busby’s translation of Lucretius, published ata high price, he declined doing so, by observing, at the proposed cost it would indeed be “Lucretiuscarus.”

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 viewsof 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 ευρηκα.” “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 amboEt cantare pares, et respondere parati.’

We juniors, who happened to be present, were muchpleased 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 musttake them as they come, like the boy in the anecdote. “So youare 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 herdarlingwould besenior 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 thePolitechnique Schoolat Paris, for a year or two) could he ever get over thePons 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 bothsenior wranglers. They, however, never caught sight of thegoal. I recollect, on one occasion, the second son beingflooredin 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 todancewith the younggentlemenof the University at her parties, and after so officiating for some three or four years, notwithstanding they were allBlues, and had corresponding names, fromBritanniatoBoadicea, the Cantabs suffered them all to departspinsters. 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 ismodest,diffident, andclever, and willbe 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, whenirritated, 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 wasmodest, but d—n hismodesty!you told me, sir, he wasdiffident, but d—n hisdiffidence!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 neithermodest,diffidentnorclever, 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 scourgeTerræ 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 schoolAtHoxton;And, mounted on an easy pad,Rode with my mother and my dadToOxon.Conceited of my parts and knowledge,They entered me into a collegeIbidem.The master took me first aside,Showed me a scrawl—I read, and criedDo Fidem.Gravely he took me by the fist,And wished me well—we next requestA tutor.He recommends a staunch one, whoInPerkins’ cause had been his Co-Adjutor.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 meSeemed 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 wayOf answer.To pray, Sir! No, my lad; ’tis well!Come, here’s our friendSacheverell;Here’sTrappy!Here’sOrmond!Marr!in short, so manyTraitors we drank, it made mycrani-umnappy.And now, the company dismissed,With this same sociable Priest,Or Fellow,I sallied forth to deck my backWith loads ofstuff, and gown of blackPrunello.My back equipt, it was not fairMy head should ’scape, and so, as squareAschess-board,AcapI bought, my scull to screen,Of cloth without, and all withinOfpaste-board.When metamorphosed in attire,More like a parson than a squireThey’d dressed me.I took my leave, with many a tear,OfJohn, 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 proveToo stubborn.So far so good; but nowfresh feesBegan (for so the custom is)My ruin.Fresh fees! with drink they knock you down;You spoil your clothes, and your new gownYou sp— in.I scarce had slept—at six—tan tinThe bell goes—servitor comes in—Gives warning.I wished the scoundrel at old Nick;I puked, and went to prayers d—d sickThat morning.One who could come half drunk to prayerThey saw was entered, and could swearAt random;Would bind himself, as they had done,To statutes, tho’ he could not un-derstand ’em.Built in the form ofpigeon-pye,A house[7]there is for rooks to lieAnd roost in.Their laws, their articles of grace,Forty, I think, save half a brace,Was willingTo swear to; swore, engaged my soul,And paid theswearing brokerwholeTen shilling.Full half a pound I paid him down,To live in the most p—d townO’ th’ nation:May it ten thousand costLord Phyz,For never forwarding his vis-itation.

[7]Theatre

Is told, and, “in the days that are gone,” is not at allimprobable, that a youth being brought to Oxon, after he had paid the Tutor and other the several College and University fees, was told he mustsubscribe 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 asophobserve, “the peak smelling thunder.” They are also very apt to mistake characters and functionaries:—I have seen a freshmancapthe college-butler, taking him forbursarat 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 ’batean 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 tocaphim, observing theywere 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 areninedays 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 hewas 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 poorlostyoungman!” 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 thewoolsack 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,shewould 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:

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