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THE FIVE PRINCIPAL ORDERS OF ETON, DOCTOR, DAME, COLLEGER, OPPIDAN, AND CAD. A SKETCH TAKEN OPPOSITE THE LONG WALK.
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ETON DAMES*; AN ODE, NEITHER AMATORY,ILL-NATURED, NOR PATHETIC.Let Oxford beaux, to am'rous belles,Love's warm epistles write;Or Cambridge youths, in classic dells,Invoke the shadowy night.* The abovejeu-d'espritmade its appearance on one ofthose joyous occasions, when the sons of old Etona returnfrom Oxford and Cambridge, filled with filial regard forearly scenes and school-boy friendships, to commemorate acollege election. It was, at the time, purposely attributedto some of these waggish visitors, a sort of privilegedrace, who never fail of indulging in numerous good-humouredfreaks with the inhabitants of Eton, to show off to therising generation the pleasantries, whims, and improvementsof a college life. The subject is one of great delicacy, butit will, I hope, be admitted by the merry dames themselves,that my friend Bernard has in this, as in every otherinstance, endeavoured to preserve the strongest traits oftruth and character, without indulging in offensive satire,or departing from propriety and decorum.—Horatio Heartly.Let Cockney poets boast their flames,Of ' Vicked Cupit' patter:Be mine a verse on Eton Dames—A more substantial matter.I care not if the Graces threeHave here withheld perfection:Brown, black, or fair, the same to me,—E'en age is no objection.A pleasing squint, or but one eye,Will do as well as any;A mouth between a laugh and cry,Or wrinkled, as my granny.A hobbling gait, or a wooden leg,Or locks of silvery gray;Or name her Madge, or Poll, or Peg,She still shall have my lay.Perfection centres in the mind,The gen'rous must acknowledge:Then, Muse, be candid, just, and kind,To Dames of Eton College.** The independent students, commonly calledOppidans, arevery numerous: they are boarded at private houses in theenvirons of the college; the presiding masters andmistresses of which have from time immemorial enjoyed thetitle ofDomineandDame: the average number ofOppidansis from three hundred to three hundred and fifty.
PROEM.Said Truth to the Muse, as they wander'd along,"Prithee, Muse, spur your Pegasus into a song;Let the subject be lively,—how like you the Belles?"Said the Muse, "he's no sportsman that kisses and tells.But in females delighting, suppose we stop here,And do you bid the Dames of old Eton appear;In your mirror their merits, with candour, survey,And I'll sing their worth in my very best Lay."No sooner 'twas said, than agreed:—it was done,Wing'd Mercury summon'd them every one.MISS A***LO.First, deck'd in the height of the fashion, a belle,An angel, ere Chronos had tipt her with snow,Advanced to the goddess, and said, "you may tell,That in Eton, there's no better table, you know;"And by Truth 'twas admitted, "her generous boardIs rich, in whatever the seasons afford."
Of ancients, a pair next presented themselves,When in popp'd some waggish Oxonian elves,Who spoke of times past, of short commons, and cheese,And told tales, which did much the old ladies displease."Good morning," said Truth, as the dames pass'd him by:Young stomachs, if stinted, are sure to outcry.MRS. R******U.On herDomineleaning came dame B******u,The oldest in college, deck'd in rich furbelow.
She curtsied around to theOppidanband,But not one said a word, and but few gave a hand.Truth whisper'd the Muse,, who, as sly, shook her head,Saying, "where little's told, 'tis soon mended, it'ssaid."MRS. G******E.When S******e appear'd, what a shout rent the air!The spruce widow affords the most excellent cheer;For comfort in quarters there's nothing can beat her,So up rose the lads with a welcome to greet her:The muse with true gallantry led her to place,And Truth said good humour was writ in her face.MRS. D****N.With a face (once divine), and a figure still smart,And a grace that defies even Time's fatal dart,Dame D****n advanced, made her curtsy, and smiled:Truth welcomed the fair, the grave, witty, and wild;All, all gave their votes, and some said they knewThat her numbers by no measure equall'd her due.MISS S******S."By my hopes," said the Muse, "here's a rare jolly pair,A right merry frontispiece, comely and fair,To good living and quarters." "You're right," nodded Truth.A welcome approval was mark'd in each youth.And 'twas no little praise among numbers like theirs,To meet a unanimous welcome up stairs.Miss L******d.Lavater, though sometimes in error, you'll findMay be here quoted safely; the face tells the mind.Good humour and happiness live in her eye.Her motto's contentment you'll easily spy.five principal orders of eton
A chair for Miss L******d Truth placed near the Muse;For beauty to rhyme can fresh spirit infuse.MRS. V******Y.V******y, in weeds led and angel along,Accomplish'd and pretty, who blush'd at the throng.The old dame seem'd to say, and i'faith she might well,"Sons of Eton, when saw you a handsomer belle?"If any intended the widow to sneer,Miss A———won their favor, and banish'd the jeer.Three sisters, famed for various parts,One clerks, and one makes savoury tarts;While t'other, bless her dinner face,Cuts up the viands with a grace,Advanced, and met a cheerful greetingFrom all who glorify good eating.MRS. W. H****R.With a smile,à la confident, came Mrs. H,Whose Domine writing to Eton's sons teach:In college, the handiest man you can findFor improvements of all sorts, both building and mind:He seem'd on good terms with himself, but the MuseSaid, "the Dame claim'd a welcome which none could refuse."DAME A****S.Dame A****s, respected by all, made her wayThrough the throng that assembled at Eton that day.Old Chronos had wrinkled her forehead, 'tis true;Yet her countenance beam'd in a rich, mellow hueOf good humour and worth; 'twas a pleasure to markHow the dame was applauded by each Eton spark.
MISS b*******K.Long and loud were the plaudits the lady to cheer,Whom the doctor had treated somewhat cavalier:"Too young," said the ancient, "the proverb is trite;Age and wisdom, good doctor, not always unite.""For prudence and worth," said Truth, "I'll be boundShe may challenge the Dames of old Eton around."A crowd pressing forward, the day growing late,Truth whisper'd the Muse, "we had better retreat;For though 'mong the dames we are free from disasters,I know not how well we may fare with the masters.There's Carter, and Yonge, Knapp, Green, and Dupuis,*All coming this way with their ladies, I see.Our visit, you know, was alone to the belles;The masters may sing, if they please, of themselves.Truth mounted a cloud, and the Poet his nag,And these whims sent next day by the post-office bag.* Lower, and assistant masters, who keep boarding-houses.Until lately this practice was not permitted; but it must beconfessed that it is a salutary arrangement, as it not onlytends to keep the youth in a better state of subjection, butin many instances is calculated to increase their progressin study, by enabling them to receive private instruction.
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ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE
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ELECTION SATURDAY.
A Peep at the Long Chambers—The Banquet—Reflections onparting—Arrival of the Provost of King's College,Cambridge, and the Pozers—The Captain's Oration—BusyMonday—The Oppidan's Farewell—Examination and Election ofthe Collegers who stand for King's—The aquatic Gala andFireworks—Oxonian Visitors—Night—Rambles in Eton—Transformations of Signs and Names—The Feast at theChristopher, with a View of THE OPPIDAN'S MUSEUM, AND ETONCOURT OF CLAIMS.Now from the schools pour forth a num'rous train,Light-hearted, buoyant as the summer breeze,To deck thy bosom, Eton: now each faceAnticipation brightens with delight,While many a fancied bliss floats gailyO'er the ardent mind, chaste as the Nautilus,Spreading her pearly spangles to the sun:The joyous welcome of parental love,The heart-inspiring kiss a sister yields,A brother's greeting, and the cheering smilesOf relatives and friends, and aged domestics,Time-honor'd for their probity and zeal,Whose silvery locks recall to mem'ry's viewSome playful scene of earliest childhood,When frolic, mirth, and gambol led the way,Ere reason gave sobriety of thought.-Now bear the busyCadsthe new-lopt boughOf beech-tree to the dormitories,While active Collegers the foliage raiseAgainst the chamber walls. A classic groveSprings as by magic art, cool and refreshing,A luxury by nature's self supply'd,Delicious shelter from the dog-star's ray.In thought profound the studiousSextilemarkIn learned converse with some ancient sage,Whose aid he seeks to meet the dread Provost.The captain fearless seeks the ancient stand,Where old Etona's sons, beneath time's altar-piece,*Have immemorial welcomedGranta'schief.In College-hall the merry cook preparesThe choicest viands for the master's banquet:A graceful, healthy throng surround the board,And temp'rance, love, and harmony, prevail.Now busy dames are in high bustle caught,Preparing for each oppidan's departure;And servants, like wing'd Mercury, must flyO'er Windsor bridge to hail the London coach.Adieus on ev'ry side, farewell, farewell,Rings in each passing ear; yet, nor regretNor sorrow marks the face, but all elateWith cheerful tongue and brighten'd eye, uniteTo hail with joy Etona's holiday.Now comes the trial of who stands for King's,Examinations difficult and deepThe Provost and his pozers to o'ercome.To this succeeds the grand aquatic gala,A spectacle of most imposing import,Where, robed in every costume of the world,The gay youth direct the glittering prow;A fleet of well-trimm'd barks upon the bosomOf old father Thames, glide on to pleasure's note:
The expert victors are received with cheers,And the dark canopy of night's illumin'dWith a grand display of brilliant fires.
* Shortly after the arrival of the Provost, he proceedsthrough the cloisters, where he is met by the captain, orhead boy of the school, who speaks a long Latin orationbefore him, standing under the clock.
To an old Etonian the last week in July brings with it recollections of delight that time and circumstances can never wholly efface. If, beneath the broad umbrage of the refreshing grove, he seeks relief from care and sultry heat, memory recalls to his imagination the scenes of his boyhood, the ever pleasing recollections of infancy, when he reclined upon the flowery bosom of old father Thames, or sought amusement in the healthful exercise of bathing, or calmly listened to the murmuring ripple of the waters, or joined the merry group in gently plying of the splashing oar. With what eager delight are these reminiscences of youth dwelt on! With what mingled sensations of hope, fear, and regret, do we revert to the happy period of life when, like the favorite flower of the month, our minds and actions rivalled the lily in her purity! Who, that has ever tasted of the inspiring delight which springs from associations of scholastic friendships and amusements, but would eagerly quit the bustle of the great world to indulge in the enjoyment of the pure and unalloyed felicity which is yet to be found among the alumni of Eton?—Election Saturday—the very sound reverberates the echo of pleasure, and in a moment places me (in imagination) in the centre of the long chambers of Eton, walking beneath the grateful foliage of the beech-tree, with which those dormitories are always decorated previous to election Saturday. I can almost fancy that I hear the rattle of the carriage wheels, and see the four horses smoking beneath the lodge-window of Eton college, that conveys the provost of King's to attend examination and election. Then too I can figure the classic band who wait toreceive him; the dignified little doctor leading the way, followed by the steady, calm-visaged lower master, Carter; then comes benedict Yonge, and after him a space intervenes, where one should have been of rare qualities, but he is absent; then follows good-humoured Heath, and Knapp, who loves the rattle of a coach, and pleasant, clever Hawtry, and careful Okes, and that shrewd sapper, Green, followed by medium Dupuis, and the intelligent Chapman: these form his classic escort to the cloisters. But who shall paint the captain's envied feelings, the proud triumph of his assiduity and skill? To him the honourable office of public orator is assigned; with modest reverence he speaks the Latin oration, standing, as is the custom from time immemorial, under the clock. There too he receives the bright reward, the approbation of the Provost of King's college, and the procession moves forward to the College-hall to partake of the generous banquet. On Sunday the Provost of King's remains a guest with his compeer of Eton. But busy Monday arrives, and hundreds of Oxonians and Cantabs pour in to witness the speeches of the boys, and pay a tribute of respect to their former masters. The exhibition this day takes place in the upper school, and consists of sixth form oppidans and collegers. How well can I remember the animated picture Eton presents on such occasions: shoals of juvenile oppidans, who are not yet of an age to have been elected of any particular school-party, marching forth from their dames' houses, linked arm in arm, parading down the street with an air and gaiety that implies some newly acquired consequence, or liberty of conduct. Every where a holiday face presents itself, and good humour lisps upon every tongue. Here may be seen a youthful group, all anxiety and bustle, trudging after some well-knownCad, who creeps along towards the Windsor coach-office, loaded with portmanteaus, carpet bags, andboxes, like a Norfolk caravan at Christmas time; while the youthful proprietors of the bulky stock, all anxiety and desire to reach their relatives and friends, are hurrying him on, and do not fail to spur theelephantwith many a cutting gibe, at his slow progression. Within doors the dames are all bustle, collecting, arranging, and packing up the wardrobes of their respective boarders; servants flying from the hall to the attic, and endangering their necks in their passage down again, from anxiety to meet the breathless impetuosity of their parting guests. Books of all classes, huddled into a heap, may be seen in the corner of each bedroom, makingsockfor the mice till the return of their purveyors with lots of plum-cake and savoury tarts. The more mature are now busily engaged in settling the fashion of their costume for the approaching gala; in receiving a visit from an elder brother, or a young Oxonian, formerly of Eton, who has arrived post to takesockwith him, and enjoy the approaching festivities. Here a venerable domestic, whose silver locks are the truest emblem of his trusty services, arrives with the favorite pony to convey home the infant heir and hope of some noble house.
Now is Garraway as lively as my lord mayor's steward at a Guildhall feast-day; and the active note of preparation for the good things of this world rings through the oaken chambers of the Christopher. Not even thesanctum sanctorumis forgotten, where, in times long past, I have quaffed my jug of Bulstrode, "in cool grot," removed from the scorching heat of a July day, and enjoyed many a good joke, secure from the prying observations of thedomine. One, and one only, class of persons wear a sorrowful face upon these joyous occasions, and these are the confectioners and fruitresses of Eton; with them, election Saturday and busy Monday are like the herald to a Jewish black fast, or a stock exchange holiday: they may as wellsport their oaks(to use an Oxford phrase) till thereturn of the oppidans to school, for they seldom see the colour of a customer's cash till the, to them, happy period arrives.
On the succeeding days the examinations of the collegers proceed regularly; then follows the election of new candidates, and the severe trial of those who stand for King's. These scholastic arrangements generally conclude on the Wednesday night, or Thursday morning, and then Pleasure mounts her variegated car, and drives wherever Fancy may direct. Formerly I find seven or eight scholars went to King's;{*} but in consequence of the fellows of Eton holding pluralities, the means are impoverished, and the number consequently reduced to two or three: this is the more to be regretted, on account of the very severe and irrecoverable disappointment the scholars experience in losing their election, merely on account of age; as at nineteen they are superannuated, and cannot afterwards receive any essential benefit from the college.
Not the blue waves of the Engia, covered with the gay feluccas of the Greeks, and spreading their glittering streamers in the sun; nor the more lovely
* This noble seminary of learning was founded by Hen. VI. in1440. Its establishment was then on a limited scale; it haslong since been enlarged, and now consists of a provost,vice-provost, six fellows, two schoolmasters, with theirassistants, seventy scholars, seven clerks, and tenchoristers, besides various inferior officers and servants.The annual election of scholars to King's College,Cambridge, takes place about the end of July, or thebeginning of August, when the twelve senior scholars are puton the roll to succeed, but they are not removed tillvacancies occur; the average number of which is about ninein two years. At nineteen years of age the scholars aresuperannuated. Eton sends, also, two scholars to MertonCollege, Oxford, where they are denominated post-masters,and has likewise a few exhibitions of twenty-one guineaseach for its superannuated scholars. The scholars elected toKing's succeed to fellowships at three years' standing.
Adriatic, swelling her translucent bosom to the gentle motion of the gondolier, and bearing on her surface the splendid cars and magnificent pageant of the Doge of Venice, marrying her waters to the sea, can to an English bosom yield half the delight the grand aquatic Eton gala affords; where, decked in every costume fancy can devise, may be seen the noble youth of Britain, her rising statesmen, warriors, and judges, the future guardians of her liberties, wealth, and commerce, all vying with each other in loyal devotion to celebrate the sovereign's natal day.{*} Then doth thy silvery bosom, father Thames, present a spectacle truly delightful; a transparent mirror, studded with gems and stars and splendid pageantry, reflecting a thousand brilliant variegated hues; while, upon thy flowery margin, the loveliest daughters of the land press the green velvet of luxuriant nature, outrivalling in charms of colour, form, and beauty, the rose, the lily, and the graceful pine. There too may be seen the accomplished and the gay youth labouring for pleasure at the healthful oar, while with experienced skill the expert helmsman directs through all thy fragrant windings the trim bark to victory. The race determined, the bright star of eve, outrivalled by the pyrotechnicartiste, hides his diminished head. Now sallies forth the gay Oxonian from the Christopher, ripe with the rare Falernian of mine host, to have his frolic gambol with old friends. Pale Luna, through her misty veil, smiles at these harmless pleasantries, and lends the merry group her aid to smuggle signs, alter names, and play off a thousand fantastic vagaries; while the Eton Townsman, robed in
* The grand aquatic gala, which terminates the week's festi-vities at Eton, and concludes the water excursions for theseason, was originally fixed in honour of his late majesty'sbirthday, and would have been altered to the period of hissuccessor's, but the time would not accord, the twelfth dayof August being vacation.
peaceful slumber, dreams not of the change his house has undergone, and wakes to find a double transformation; hisAngelvanished, or exchanged for the rude semblance of an OxfordBear, with a cognomen thereto appended, as foreign to his family nomenclature "as he to Hercules." In the morning the dames are wailing the loss of their polished knockers; and the barber-surgeon mourns the absence of his obtrusive pole. The optician's glasses have been removed to the door of some pryingdomine; and the large tin cocked hat has been seized by some midnight giant, who has also claimed old Crispin's three-leagued boot. The golden fish has leaped into the Thames. The landlord of the Lamb bleats loudly for his fleece. The grocer cares not a fig for the loss of his sugar-loaves, but laughs, and takes it as a currant joke. Old Duplicate is resolved to have his balls restored with interest; and the lady mother of the black doll is quite pale in the face with sorrow for the loss of her child. Mine host of the vine looks as sour as his own grapes, before they were fresh gilded; and spruce master Pigtail, the tobacconist, complains that his large roll of real Virginia has been chopped into short cut. But these are by far the least tormenting jokes. That good-humoured Cad, Jem Miller, finds the honorary distinction of private tutor added to his name. Dame ——s, an irreproachable spinster of forty, discovers that of Mr. Probe, man-midwife, appended to her own. Mr. Primefit, the Eton Stultz, is changed into Botch, the cobbler. Diodorus Drowsy, D.D., of Windsor, is re-christened Diggory Drenchall, common brewer; and the amiable Mrs. Margaret Sweet, the Eton pastry-cook and confectioner, finds her name united in bands of brass with Mr. Benjamin Bittertart, the baker. The celebrated Christopher Caustic, Esq., surgeon, has the mortification to find his Esculapian dormitory decorated with the sign-board of Mr. Slaughtercalf, a German butcher; while his handsome brass pestleand mortar, with the gilt Galen's head annexed, have been waggishly transferred to the house of some Eton Dickey Gossip, barber and dentist. Mr. Index, the bookseller, changes names with old Frank Finis, the sexton. The elegant door plate of Miss Caroline Cypher, spinster, is placed on the right side of Nicodemus
Number, B.A., and fellow of Eton, with this note annexed: "New rule of Addition, according to Cocker." Old Amen, the parish clerk, is united to Miss Bridget Silence, the pew opener; and Theophilus White, M.D. changes place with Mr. Sable, the undertaker. But we shall become too grave if we proceed deeper with this subject. There is no end to the whimsical alterations and ludicrous changes that take place upon these occasions, when scarce a sign or door plate in Eton escapes some pantomimic transformation.*
* Representations to the masters or authorities are scarcelyever necessary to redress these whimsical grievances, as theinjured parties are always remunerated. The next day thespoils and trophies are arranged in due form in a certainsnug sanctum sanctorum, the cellar of a favorite inn, wellknown by the name of theOppidan'sMuseum; for a view ofwhich see the sketch made on the spot by my friend BobTransit. Here the merry wags are to be found in council,holding a court of claims, to which all the tradesmen whohave suffered any loss are successively summoned; and afterpointing out from among the motley collection the articlethey claim, and the price it originally cost, they arehandsomely remunerated, or the sign replaced. The goodpeople of Eton generally choose the former, as it not onlyenable them to sport a new sign, but to put a little profitupon the cost price of the old one. The trophies thusacquired are then packed up in hampers, and despatched toOxford, where they are on similar occasions not unfrequentlydisplayed, or hung up, in lieu of some well-known sign, suchas the Mitre, &c. which has been removed during the night.
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The following jeu-d'esprits issued upon the interference of the authorities at the conclusion of the last Election. The "dance of thirty sovereigns" is an allusion to the fine imposed, which was given to the poor.
A Ladder Dance.A moving golden Fish.The Fall of Grapes, during a heavy storm.The Cock'd Hat Combat.A March to the Workhouse.Bird-cage Duett, by Messrs. C***** and B****.A public Breakfast, with a dance by thirty sovereigns.Glee—"When shall we three meet again."The Barber's Hornpipe, by the learned D****.The Turk's Head Revel.Saint Christopher's March.The Committee in Danger.The Cloisters, Eton
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HERBERT STOCKHORE, THE MONTEM POET LAUREATE. A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE,
As he appeared in the Montent Procession of May, 1823.
BY BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, AND ROBERT TRANSIT
Bending beneath a weight of time,And crippled as his Montem ode,We found the humble son of rhymeBusy beside the public road.Nor laurel'd wreath or harp had he,To deck his brow or touch the noteThat wakes the soul to sympathy.His face was piteous as his coat,'Twas motley strange; e'en nature's self,In wild, eccentric, playful mood,Had, for her pastime, form'd the elf,A being scarcely understood—Half idiot, harmless; yet a gleamOf sense, and whim, and shrewdness, brokeThe current of his wildest stream;And pity sigh'd as madness spoke.
Lavater, Lawrence, Camper, herePhilosophy new light had caught:Judged by your doctrines 'twould appearThe facial line denoted thought.{1}But say, what system e'er shall traceBy scalp or visage mental worth?The ideot's form, the maniac's face,Are shared alike by all on earth."Comparative Anatomy—"If, Stockhore, 'twas to thee apply'd,'Twould set the doubting Gallist free,And Spurzheim's idle tales deride.But hence with visionary scheme,Though Bell, or Abernethy, write;Be Herbert Stockhore all my theme,The laureate's praises I indite;He erst who sung in Montem's praise,And, Thespis like, from out his cartRecited his extempore lays,On Eton's sons, in costume smart,Who told of captains bold and grand,Lieutenants, marshals, seekingsalt;Of colonels, majors, cap in hand,Who bade e'en majesty to halt;1 It is hardly possible to conceive a more intelligent,venerable looking head, than poor Herbert Stockhorepresents; a fine capacious forehead, rising like apromontory of knowledge, from a bold outline of countenance,every feature decisive, breathing serenity andthoughtfulness, with here and there a few straggling locksof silvery gray, which, like the time-discoloured moss uponsome ancient battlements, are the true emblems of antiquity:the eye alone is generally dull and sunken in the visage,but during his temporary gleams of sanity, or fanciedflights of poetical inspiration, it is unusually bright andanimated. According to professor Camper, I should think thefacial line would make an angle of eighty or ninety degrees;and, judging upon the principles laid down by Lavater, poorHerbert might pass for a Solon. Of his bumps, orphrenological protuberances, I did not take particularnotice, but I have no doubt they would be found, uponexamination, equally illustrative of such visionary systems.
Told how the ensign nobly wavedThe colours on the famous hill;And names from dull oblivion saved,Who ne'er the niche of fame can fill:Who, like to Campbell, lends his name.{2}To many a whim he ne'er did write;When witty scholars, to their shame,'Gainst masters hurl a satire trite.{3}But fare thee well, Ad Montem's bard,{4}Farewell, my mem'ry's early friend2 The author of "the Pleasures of Hope," and the editor ofthe New Monthly; but-"Tardè, quo credita lodunt,credimus."3 It has long been the custom at Eton, particularly duringMontem, to give Herbert Stockhore the credit of many asatirical whim, which he, poor fellow, could as easily havepenned as to have written a Greek ode. These squibs aresometimes very humorous, and are purposely written indoggrel verse to escape detection by the masters, who arenot unfrequently the principal porsons alluded to.4 The following laughable production was sold by poorHerbert Stockhore during the last Montem: we hardly think weneed apologise for introducing this specimen of his muse:any account of Eton characteristics must have been helddeficient without it.
Muses attend! the British channel flock o'er,Call'd by your most obedient servant, Stockhore.Aid me, O, aid me, while I touch the string;Montem and Captain Barnard's praise I sing;Captain Barnard, the youth so noble and bright,That none dare dispute his worthy rightTo that gay laurel which his brother wore,In times that 1 remember long before.What are Olympic honours compared to thine,0 Captain, when Majesty does combineWith heroes, their wives, sons and daughters great,To visit this extremely splendid fête.Enough! I feel a sudden inspiration fillMy bowels; just as if the tolling bellHad sent forth sounds a floating all along the airJust such Parnassian sounds, though deaf, I'm sure I hear.
May misery never press thee hard,Ne'er may disease thy steps attend:Listen, ye gents; rude Boreas hold your tongue!The pomp advances, and my lyre is strung.First comes Marshal Thackeray,Dress'd out in crack array;Ar'nt he a whacker, eh?His way he picks,Follow'd by six,Like a hen by her chicks:Enough! he's gone.As this martial MarshallIs to music partial,The bandsmen march allHis heels upon.He who hits the balls such thumps,King of cricket-bats and stumps,—Barnard comes;Sound the drums—Silence! he's past.Eight fair pages,Of different ages,Follow fast.Next comes the Serjeant-Major,Who, like an old stager,Without need of bridleWalks steadily; the sameDolphin Major by name,Major Dolphin by title.Next struts Serjeant Brown,Very gay you must own;With gallant Mr. Hughes,In well-polish'd shoes;Then Sampson, who tramps on,Strong as his namesake.Then comes Webb, who don't dreadTo die for his fame's sake.Next shall I singOf Serjeant King,And Horace Walpole,Holding a tall pole,Who follows King and Antrobus,Though he's "pulchrior ambobus."
Be all thy wants by those supply'd,Whom charity ne'er fail'd to move{5}:5 This eccentric creature has for many years subsistedentirely upon the bounty of the Etonians, and theinhabitants of Windsor and Eton, who never fail toadminister to his wants, and liberally supply him with manylittle comforts in return for his harmless pleasantries.Then to Salthill speed on,While the troops they lead on;Both Mr. Beadon,And Serjeant Mitford,Who's ready to fi't for't.Then Mr. Carter follows a'ter;And Denman,Worth ten men,Like a Knight of the Garter;And Cumberbatch,Without a match,Tell me, who can be smarter?Then Colonel Hand,Monstrous grand,Closes the band.Pass on, you nameless crowd,Pass on. The Ensign proudComes near. Let all that can seeBehold the Ensign Dansey;See with what elegance heWaves the flag—to please the fancy.Pass on, gay crowd; Le Mann, the big,Bright with gold as a guinea-pig,The big, the stout, the fierce Le Mann,Walks like a valiant gentleman.But take care of your pockets,Here's Salt-bearer Platt,With a bag in his hand,And a plume in his hat;A handsomer youth, sure small-clothes ne'er put on,Though very near rival'd by elegant Sutton.Thus then has pass'd this grand procession,In most magnificent progression.Farewell you gay and happy throng!
Etona's motto, crest, and pride,Is feeling, courage, friendship, love.Farewell my Muse! farewell my song'Farewell Salthill! farewell brave Captain;As ever uniform was clapt in;Since Fortune's kind, pray do not mock her;Your humble poet,HERBERT STOCKHORE.
Herbert Stockhore was originally a bricklayer, and now resides at a little house which he has built for himself, and called Mount Pleasant, in a lane leading from Windsor to the Meadows. He has a wife and daughter, honest, industrious people, who reside with him, and are by no means displeased at the visit of a stranger to their eccentric relative. Some idea of the old man's amusing qualifications may be conceived from the following description, to which I have added the account he gives of his heraldic bearings. It must be recollected that the Etonians encourage these whims in the poor old man, and never lose an opportunity of impressing Stockhore with a belief in the magnificent powers of his genius.—After we had heard him recite several of his unconnected extempore rhapsodies, we were to be indulged with the Montem ode; this the old man insisted should be spoken in his gala dress; nor could all the entreaties of his wife and daughter, joined to those of myself and friend (fearful of appearing obtrusive), dissuade old Herbert from his design. He appeared quite frantic with joy when the dame brought forth from an upper apartment these insignia of his laureateship; the careful manner in which they were folded up and kept clean gave us to understand that the good woman herself set some store by them. The wife and daughter now proceeded to robe the laureate bard: the first garment which was placed over his shoulders, and came below his waist, was a species of tunic made out of patches of bed-furniture, trimmed in the most fantastic manner with fragments of worsted fringe of all colors. Over this he wore an old military jacket, of a very ancient date in respect to costume, and trimmed like the robe with fringe of every variety. A pair of loose trowsers of the same materials as the tunic were also displayed; but the fashion of the poet's head-dress exceeded all the rest for whimsicality: round an old soldier's cap a sheet of pasteboard was bent to a spiral form, rising about fourteen inches, and covered with some pieces of chintz bed-furniture of a very rich pattern; in five separate circles, was disposed as many different colors of fringes; some worsted twisted, to resemble feathers, was suspended from the side; and the whole had the most grotesque appearance, more nearly resembling the papal crown in similitude than any thing else I can conceive.
Poor harmless soul, thy merry staveShall live when nobler poets bend;
The poor old fellow seemed elated to a degree. We had sent for a little ale for him, but were informed he was not accustomed to drink much of any strong liquor. After a glass, Herbert recited with great gesture and action, but in a very imperfect manner, the Montem ode; and then for a few minutes seemed quite exhausted. During this exhibition my friend Transit was engaged in sketching his portrait, a circumstance that appeared to give great pleasure to the wife and daughter, who earnestly requested, if it was published, to be favored with a copy. We had now become quite familiar with the old man, and went with him to view his Montem car and Arabian pony, as he called them, in a stable adjoining the house. On our return, my friend Transit observed that his cart required painting, and should be decorated with some appropriate emblem. Herbert appeared to understand the idea, and immediately proceeded to give us a history of his heraldic bearings, or, as he said, what his coat of arms should be, which, he assured us, the gentlemen of Eton had subscribed for, and were having prepared at the Heralds' College in London, on purpose for him to display next Montem. "My grand-father," said Stockhore, "was a hatter, therefore I am entitled to the beaver in the first quarter of my shield. My grandfather by my mother's side was a farmer, therefore I should have the wheat-sheaf on the other part. My own father was a pipe-maker, and that gives me a noble ornament, the cross pipes and glasses, the emblems of good fellowship. Now my wife's father was a tailor, and that yields me a goose: those are the bearings of the four quarters of my shield. Now, sir, I am a poet—ay, the poet laureate of Montem; and that gives me a right to the winged horse for my crest. There's a coat of arms for you," said poor Herbert; "why, it would beat every thing but the king's; ay, and his too, if it wasn't for the lion and crown." The attention we paid to this whim pleased the poor creature mightily; he was all animation and delight. But the day was fast declining: so, after making the poor people a trifling present for the trouble we had given them, my friend Transit and myself took our farewell of poor Herbert, not, I confess, without regret; for I think the reader will perceive by this brief sketch thero is great character and amusement in his harmless whims. I have been thus particular in my description of him, because he is always at Montem time an object of much curiosity; and to every Etonian of the last thirty years, his peculiarities must have frequently afforded amusement.