Part 16

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

HIS WIG AND HAT FELL INTO THE WATER,

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

HIS TRIPLE, THRICE-CONFUSED DISCOURSE,

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,

THE CELEBRATED LORD SANDWICH,

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

THE INVENTOR OF SANDWICHES.

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

LAPSUS LINGUÆ.

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.

* * * * *

OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE LOYALTY.

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

THE CUSHION PLOT,

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 Hanover.

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

THE DANGER OF DRINKING THE KING'S HEALTH.

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

"THE CONSTITUTION CLUB,"

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

AMONGST THE CAMBRIDGE CLUBS

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."

* * * * *

THE RETROGRADATION AMONGST MASTERS, TUTORS, AND SCHOLARS.

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.

* * * * *

THERE IS AN ON-DIT,

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.

* * * * *

THE WORCESTER GOBLIN.

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.

* * * * *

RECORDS OF THE CAMBRIDGE TRIPOSES.

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

THE WOODEN SPOON.

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--

THE POLL; OR, [Greek: HOI POLLOI]:

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--

ODE TO THE UNAMBITIOUS AND UNDISTINGUISHED BACHELORS.

"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.