THE SPREAD,{1} OR WINE PARTY AT BRAZEN-NOSE.
"Hear, Momus, hoar! blithe sprite, whose dimpling cheek
Of quips, and cranks ironic, seems to speak,
Who lovest learned victims, and whose shrine
Groans with the weight of victims asinine.
Nod with assent! thy lemon juice infuse!
Though of male sex, I woo thee for a Muse."
A College Wine Party described—Singular Whim of Horace
Eglantine—Meeting of the Oxford Crackademonians—Sketches
of eccentric Characters, drawn from the Life—The Doctor's
Daughter—An old Song—A Round of Sculls—Epitaphs on the
Living and the Dead—Tom Tick, a College Tale—The Voyagers
—Notes and Anecdotes.
A college wine party I could very well conceive from the specimen I had already of my companion's frolicsome humours, was not unlikely to produce some departure from college rules which might eventually involve me in rustication, fine, or imposition. To avoid it was impossible; it was the first invitation of an early friend, and must be obeyed. The anticipation of a bilious head-ache on the morrow, or perhaps a first appearance before, or lecture from, the vice-chancellor, principal, or proctor, made me somewhat tardy in my appearance at the spread. The butler was just marching a second
1 A spread. A wine party of from thirty to one hundred and
twenty persons. The party who gives the spread generally
invites all the under-graduates he is acquainted with; a
dessert is ordered either from Jubber's, or Sadler's, for
the number invited, for which he is charged at per head.
reinforcement of black men, or heavy artillery from the college magazine, across the quadrangle, for the use of the dignitaries' table; when I, a poor solitary freshman, advanced with sentimental awe and fearful stride beneath the arched entrance of Brazen-nose. Where Eglantine's rooms were situated I had no means of knowing, his card supplying only the name of his college; to make some inquiry would be necessary, but of whom, not a creature but what appeared much too busily employed, as they ran to and fro laden with wine and viands, to answer the interrogatories of a stranger. I was on the point of retreating to obtain the requisite information from the waiter at the Mitre, when old Mark Supple made his appearance, with "Your servant, sir: I have been in search of you at your inn, by command of Mr. Eglantine, take notice—who with a large party of friends are waiting your company to a spread." "A large party, Mark?" said I, suspecting there was some secret drama in rehearsal, in which I was to play a principal part. "A very large party, sir, and a very extraordinary one too, take notice—such a collection as I never saw before within the walls of a college—living curiosities, take notice—all the comicals of Oxford brought together,{2} and this 2 This adventure, strange as it may appear, actually occurred a short time since, when Mr. J*****n of Brazen-nose invited the characters here named to an entertainment in the College. Sir Richard Steele, when on a visit to Edinburgh, indulged in a similar freak: he made a splendid feast, and whilst the servants were wondering for what great personages it was intended, he sent them into the streets, to collect all the eccentrics, beggars, and poor people, that chance might throw in their way, and invite them to his house. A pretty large party being mustered, they were well plied with whiskey-punch and wine; when, forgetting their cares, and free from all restraint, they gave loose to every peculiarity of their respective characters. When the entertainment was over, Sir Richard declared, that besides the pleasure of filling so many hungry bellies, and enjoying an hour of rich amusement, he had gleaned from them humour enough to form a good comedy, or at least a farce.
THE SPREAD, OR WINE PARTY AT BRAZEN-NOSE 223
is what Mr. Eglantine calls his museum of character, but which I should call a regiment of caricatures, take notice—but I heard him say, that he had invited them on purpose to surprise you; that he knew you was fond of eccentricity, and that he thought he had prepared a great treat. I only wish he may get rid of them as easily as he brought them there, for if the bull-dogs should gain scent of them there would be a pretty row, take notice." Mark's information, instead of producing the alarm he evidently anticipated, had completely dispelled all previous fears, and operated like the prologue to a rich comedy, from which I expected to derive considerable merriment: following, therefore, my conductor up one flight of stairs on the opposite side of the space from which I had entered, I found myself at the closed oak of my friend. "Mr. Eglantine is giving them a chaunt" said Mark, who had applied his ear to the key-hole of the door: "we must wait till the song is over, or you will be fined in a double bumper of bishop, for interrupting the stave, take notice." Curiosity prompted me to follow Mark's example, when I overheard Horace chanting part of an old satirical ballad on John Wilkes, to the tune of the Dragon of Wantley; commencing with—
And ballads I have heard rehearsed By harmonists itinerant, Who modern worthies celebrate, Yet scarcely make a dinner on't. Some of whom sprang from noble race, And some were in a pig-sty born, Dependent upon royal grace Or triple tree of Tyburn.
CHORUS. John Wilkes he was for Middlesex, They chose him knight of the shire: He made a fool of alderman Bull, And call'd parson Home a liar.
The moment silence was obtained, old Mark gave three distinct knocks at the door, when Horace himself appeared, and we were immediately admitted to the temple of the Muses; where, seated round a long table, appeared a variety of characters that would have rivalled (from description) the Beggars' Club in St. Giles's—the Covent-Garden Finish—or the once celebrated Peep o' day boys in Fleet-lane. At the upper end of the table were Tom Echo and Bob Transit, the first smoking his cigar, the second sketching the portraits of the motley group around him on the back of his address cards; at the lower end of the room, on each side of the chair from which Eglantine had just risen to welcome me, sat little Dick Gradus, looking as knowing as an Old Bailey counsel dissecting a burglary case, and the honourable Lillyman Lionise, the Eton exquisite, looking as delicate and frightened as if his whole system of ethics was likely to be revolutionized by this night's entertainment. To such a society a formal introduction was of course deemed essential; and this favour Horace undertook by recommending me to the particular notice of the crackademonians (as he was pleased to designate the elegant assemblage by whom we were then surrounded), in the following oration: "Most noble cracks, and worthy cousin trumps—permit me to introduce a brother of the togati, fresh as a new-blown rose, and innocent as the lilies of St. Clement's. Be unto him, as ye have been to all gownsmen from the beginning, ever ready to promote his wishes, whether for spree or sport, in term or out of term—against the Inquisition and their bull-dogs—the town raff and the bargees—well blunted or stiver cramped—against dun or don—nob or big wig—so may you never want a bumper of bishop: and thus do I commend him to your merry keeping." "Full charges, boys," said Echo, "fill up their glasses, Count Dennett{3}; 3 Count Dennett, hair-dresser at Corpus and Oriel Colleges, a very eccentric man, who has saved considerable property; celebrated for making bishops' wigs, playing at cribbage, and psalm-singing.
Here's Brother Blackmantle of Brazen-nose." "A speech, a speech!" vociferated all the party. "Yes, worthy brother cracks," replied I, "you shall have a speech, the very acme of oratory; a brief speech, composed by no less a personage than the great Lexicographer himself, and always used by him on such occasions at the club in Ivy-lane. Here's all your healths, and Esto perpétua." "Bravo!" said Eglantine;" the boy improves. Now a toast, a university lass—come, boys, The Doctor's Daughter; and then a song from Crotchet C—ss."{4}
BURTON ALE.
AN ANCIENT OXFORD DITTY.
Of all the belles who Christ Church bless,
None's like the doctor's daughter{5};
Who hates affected squeamishness
Almost as much as water.
Unlike your modern dames, afraid
Of Bacchus's caresses;
She far exceeds the stoutest maid
Of excellent queen Bess's.
Hers were the days, says she, good lack,
The days to drink and munch in;
When butts of Burton, tuns of sack,
Wash'd down an ox for luncheon.
Confound your nimpy-pimpy lass,
Who faints and fumes at liquor;
Give me the girl that takes her glass
Like Moses and the vicar.
4 Mr. C—ss, otherwise Crotchet C—ss, bachelor of music,
and organist of Christ Church College, St. John's College,
and St. Mary's Church. An excellent musician, and a jolly
companion: he published, some time since, a volume of
chants.
5 A once celebrated university toast, with whose
eccentricities we could fill a volume; but having received
an intimation that it would be unpleasant to the lady's
feelings, we gallantly forbear.
True emblem of immortal ale,
So famed in British lingo;
Stout, beady, and a little stale—
Long live the Burton stingo!
"A vulgar ditty, by my faith," said the exquisite, "in the true English style, all fol de rol, and a vile chorus to split the tympanum of one's auricular organs: do, for heaven's sake, Echo, let us have some divertissement of a less boisterous character." "Agreed," said Eglantine, winking at Echo; "we'll have a round of sculls. Every man shall sing a song, write a poetical epitaph on his right hand companion, or drink off a double dose of rum booze."{6} "Then I shall be confoundedly cut," said Dick Gradus, "for I never yet could chant a stave or make a couplet in my life." "And I protest against a practice," said Lionise, "that has a tendency to trifle with one's transitory tortures." "No appeal from the chair," said Eglantine: "another bumper, boys; here's The Fair Nuns of St. Clement's." "To which I beg leave to add," said Echo, "by way of rider, their favourite pursuit, The Study of the Fathers." By the time these toasts had been duly honoured, some of the party displayed symptoms of being moderately cut, when Echo commenced by reciting his epitaph on his next friend, Bob Transit:—
Here rests a wag, whose pencil drew
Life's characters of varied hue,
Bob Transit—famed in humour's sphere
For many a transitory year.
Though dead, still in the "English Spy"
He'll live for ever to the eye.
Here uncle White{7} reclines in peace,
Secure from nephew and from niece.
6 Rum booze—Flip made of white or port wine, the yolks of
eggs, sugar and nutmeg.
7 Uncle White, a venerable bed-maker of All Souls' College,
eighty-three years of age; has been in the service of the
college nearly seventy years: is always dressed in black,
and wears very largo silver knee and shoe-buckles; his hair,
which is milk-white, is in general tastefully curled: he is
known "to, and called uncle by, every inhabitant of the
university, and obtained the cog-nomen from his having an
incredible number of nephews and nieces in Oxford. In
appearance he somewhat resembles a clergyman of the old
school.
Of All-Souls' he, alive or dead;
Of milk-white name, the milk-white head.
By Uncle White.
Here lies Billy Chadwell,{8}
Who perform'd the duties of a dad well.
BY BILLY CHADWELL.
Ye maggots, now's your time to crow:
Old Boggy Hastings{9} rests below.
BY BOGGY HASTINGS.
A grosser man ne'er mix'd with stones
Than lies beneath—'Tis Figgy Jones.{10}
BY FIGGY JONES.
Here Marquis Wickens{11} lies incrust,
In clay-cold consecrated dust:
No more he'll brew, or pastry bake;
His sun is set—himself a cake.
8 Billy Chadwell, of psalm-singing notoriety, since dead;
would imitate syncope so admirably, as to deceive a whole
room full of company—in an instant he would become pale,
motionless, and ghastly as death; the action of his heart
has even appeared to be diminished: his sham fits, if
possible, exceeded his fainting. He was very quarrelsome
when in his cups; and when he had aggravated any one to the
utmost, to save himself from a severe beating would
apparently fall into a most dreadful fit, which never failed
to disarm his adversary of his rage, and to excite the
compassion of every by-stander.
9 Old Boggy Hastings supplies members of the university and
college servants who are anglers with worms and maggots.
10 Tommy J***s, alias Figgy Jones, an opulent grocer in the
High-street, and a common-councilman in high favour with the
lower orders of the freemen; a sporting character.
11 Marquis Wickens formerly a confectioner, and now a
common brewer. He accumulated considerable property as a
confectioner, from placing his daughters, who were pretty
genteel girls, behind his counter, where they attracted a
great many gownsmen to the shop. No tradesman ever gained a
fortune more rapidly than this man: as soon as he found
himself inde-pendent of the university, he gave up his shop,
bought the Sun Inn, built a brewhouse, and is now gaining as
much money by selling beer as he formerly did by
confectionery.
BY MARQUIS WICKENS.
Ye roués all, be sad and mute;
Who now shall cut the stylish suit?
Buck Sheffield's{12 }gone—Ye Oxford men,
Where shall ye meet his like again?
BY BUCK SHEFFIELD.
MacLean{13} or Tackle, which you will,
In quiet sleeps beneath this hill.
Ye anglers, bend with one accord;
The stranger is no more abroad.
BY MACLEAN.
Here rests a punster, Jemmy Wheeler{14}
In wit and whim a wholesale dealer;
Unbound by care, he others bound,
And now lies gathered underground.
12 Sheffield, better known by the name of Buck Sheffield, a
master tailor and a member of the common council.
13 MacLean, an old bacchanalian Scotchman, better known by
the name of Tackle: a tall thin man, who speaks the broad
Scotch dialect; makes and mends fishing-tackle for members
of the university; makes bows and arrows for those who
belong to the Archery Society; is an indifferent musician,
occasionally amuses under-graduates in their apartments by
playing to them country dances and marches on the flute or
violin. He published his Life a short time since, in a thin
octavo pamphlet, entitled "The Stranger Abroad, or The
History of Myself," by MacLean.
14 Jemmy Wheeler of Magpie-lane, a bookbinder, of punning
celebrity; has published two or three excellent versified
puns in the Oxford Herald. He is a young man of good natural
abilities,
but unfortunately applies them occasionally to a loose purpose.
BY JEMMY WHEELER.
A speedy-man, by nimble foe,
Lies buried in the earth below:
The Baron Perkins,{15} Mercury
To all the university.
Men of New College, mourn his fate,
Who early died by drinking late.
BY BARON PERKINS.
Ye Oxford duns, you're done at last;
Here Smiler W——d{16} is laid fast.
No more his oak ye need assail;
He's book'd inside a wooden jail.
BY SMILER W—— OF C—— COLLEGE.
A thing called exquisite rests here:
For human nature's sake I hope,
Without uncharitable trope,
'Twill ne'er among us more appear.
15 William Perkins, alias Baron Perkins, alias the Baron, a
very jovial watchman of Holywell, the New College speedy-
man,{*} and factotum to New College.
16 Mr. W——d, alias Smiler W——d, a commoner of
——. This gentleman is always laughing or smiling; is
long-winded, and consequently pestered with duns, who are
sometimes much chagrined by repeated disappointments; but
let them be ever so crusty, he never fails in laughing them
into a good humour before they leave his room.
It was over Smiler's oak in——, that some wag had printed
and stuck up the following notice:
Men traps and spring guns
Set here to catch duns.
* A speedy-man at New College is a person employed to take
a letter to the master of Winchester school from the warden
of New College, acquaint-ing him that a fellowship or
scholarship is become vacant in the college, and requiring
him to send forthwith the next senior boy. The speedy-man
always performs his journey on foot, and within a given
time.
BY LILLYMAN LIONISE.
Here rests a poet—heaven keep him quiet,
For when above he lived a life of riot;
Enjoy'd his joke, and drank his share of wine—
A mad wag he, one Horace Eglantine.{17}
The good old orthodox beverage now began to display its potent effects upon the heads and understandings of the party. All restraint being completely banished by the effect of the liquor, every one indulged in their characteristic eccentricities. Dick Gradus pleaded his utter incapability to sing or produce an impromptu rhyme, but was allowed to substitute a prose epitaph on the renowned school-master of Magdalen parish, Fatty T—b,{18} who lay snoring under the table. "It shall be read over him in lieu of burial service," said Echo. "Agreed, agreed," vociferated all the party; and Jemmy
17 This whim of tagging rhymes and epitaphs, adopted by
Horace Eglantine, is of no mean authority. During the
convivial administration of Lord North, when the ministerial
dinners were composed of such men as the Lords Sandwich,
Weymouth, Thurlow, Richard Rigby, &c, various pleasantries
passed current for which the present time would be deemed
too refined. Among others, it was the whim of the day to
call upon each member, after the cloth was drawn, to tag a
rhyme to the name of his left hand neighbour. It was first
proposed by Lord Sandwich, to raise a laugh against the
facetious Lord North, who happened to sit next to a Mr.
Mellagen, a name deemed incapable of a rhyme. Luckily,
however, for Lord North, that gentleman had just informed
him of an accident that had befallen him near the pump in
Pall Mall; when, therefore, it came to his turn, he wrote
the following distich:—
Oh! pity poor Mr. Mellagen,
Who walking along Pall Mall,
Hurt his foot when down he fell,
And fears he won't get well again.
18 Fatty T——, better known as the sixpenny schoolmaster:
a little fat man, remarkable for his love of good living.
Jumps,{19} the parish clerk of Saint Peter's, was instantly mounted on a chair, at the head of the defunct schoolmaster, to recite the following whim:—
Epitaph on a Glutton.
Beneath this table lie the remains of Fatty T***;
Who more than performed the duties of
An excellent eater, an unparalleled drinker, and
A truly admirable sleeper.
His stomach was as disinterested
As his appetite was good; so that
His impartial tooth alike chewed
The mutton of the poor,and
The turtle of the rich.
19 James James, alias Jemmy Jumps, alias the Oxford Caleb
Quotum, a stay-maker, and parish-clerk of Saint Peter le
Bailey—plays the violin to parties on water excursions,
attends public-house balls—is bellows-blower and factotum
at the music-room—attends as porter to the Philharmonic and
Oxford Choral Societies—is constable of the race-course
and race balls—a bill distributor and a deputy collector of
poor rates—calls his wife his solio. He often amuses his
companions at public-houses by reciting comic tales in
verse. A woman who had lost a relative desired Jemmy
Jumps to get a brick grave built. On digging up a piece
of ground which had not been opened for many years, he
discovered a very good brick grave, and, to his great joy,
also discovered that its occupant had long since mouldered
into dust. He cleaned the grave out, procured some reddle
and water, brushed the bricks over with it, and informed
the person that he had a most excellent second-hand grave
to sell as good as new, and if she thought it would suit
her poor departed friend, would let her have it at half the
price of a new one: this was too good an offer to be
rejected; but Jemmy found, on measuring the coffin, that his
second-hand grave was too short, and consequently was
obliged to dig the earth away from the end of the grave and
beat the bricks in with a beetle, before it would admit its
new tenant.
He was a zealous opposer of the Aqua-arian heresy,
A steady devourer of beef-steaks,
A stanch and devout advocate for spiced bishop,
A firm friend to Bill Holland's double X, and
An active disseminator of the bottle,
He was ever uneasy unless employed upon
The good things of this world; and
The interment of a swiss or lion,
Or the dissolution of a pasty,
Was his great delight.
He died
Full of drink and victuals,
In the undiminished enjoyment of his digestive faculties,
In the forty-fifth year of his appetite.
The collegians inscribed this memento,
In perpetual remembrance of
His pieous knife and fork.
"Very well for a trencher man," said Horace; "now we must have a recitation from Strasburg.{20} Come, you jolly old teacher of Hebrew, mount the rostrum, and "give us a taste of your quality." "Ay, or by heavens we'll baptize him with a bumper of bishop," said Echo. "For conscience sake, mishter Echo, conshider vat it is you're about; I can no more shpeek in English than I can turn Christian—I've drank so much of your red port to-day as voud make anoder Red Sea." "Ay, and you shall be drowned in it, you old Sheenie," said Tom, "if you don't give us a speech." "A speech, a speech!" resounded from all
{20} Strasburg, an eccentric Jew, who gave lessons in Hebrew
to members of the university.
the yet living subjects of the party. "Veil, if I musht, I musht; but I musht do it by shubstitute then; my old friend, Mark Supple here, vill give you the history of Tom Tick." To this Echo assented, on account of the allusions it bore to the Albanians, some of whom were of the party. Old Mark, mounted on the chair at the upper end of the table, proceeded with the tale.
