Finding we were not likely to be interrupted by the domine, Tom took the chair. The fellows in the smock frocks threw off their disguises, and proved to be two genteelly dressed waiters from one of the inns. "Close the oak, Jem," said Horace Eglantine, "and take care no one knocks in{29} before we have knocked down the contents of your master's musical melange." "Punning as usual, Eglantine," said the Honourable Mr. Sparkle, a gentleman commoner. "Yes; and pun-ishing too, old fellow!" said Horace. "Where's the cold tankard,{30} Echo?
27 A college telegraph—A servant of a college, who carries
an account of every trifling offence committed, either by
gentlemen or servants, to the college officers.
28 Well-known characters in Christ Church.
29 Knocking in—Going into college after half-past ten at
night. The names of the gentlemen who knock in are entered
by the porter in a book kept for that purpose, and the next
morning it is carried to the dean and censors, who generally
call upon the parties so offending to account for being out
of college at so late an hour. A frequent recurrence of this
practice will sometimes draw from the dean a very severe
reprimand.
Knocking in money—Fines levied for knocking into college at
improper hours: the first fine is fixed at half-past ten,
and increased every half hour afterwards. These fines are
entered on the batter book, and charged among the battels
and decrements,* a portion of which is paid to the porter
quarterly, for being knocked up.
30 Cold tankard—A summer beverage, used at dinner, made of
brandy, cider, or perry, lemons cut in slices, cold water,
sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, and the herbs balm and burridge.
Sometimes sherry or port wine is substituted for cider. The
tankard is put into a pitcher, which is iced in a tub,
procured from the confectioners.
* Decrements.—The use of knives, folks, spoons, and other
necessaries, with the firing, &c. for the hall and chapel.
We must give our old con, Blackmantle, a warm reception." "Sure, that's a Paddyism"{31} said a young Irish student. "Nothing of the sort," replied Horace: "are we not all here the sons of Isis (Ices)? and tell me where will you find a group of warmer hearted souls?" "Bravo! bravo!" shouted the party. "That fellow Eglantine will create another Pun-ic war," said Sparkle. "I move that we have him crossed in the buttery{32} for making us laugh during dinner, to the great injury of our digestive organs, and the danger of suffocation." "What! deprive an Englishman of his right to battel{33}" said Echo: "No; I would sooner inflict the orthodox fine of a double bumper of bishop." "Bravo!" said Horace: "then I plead guilty, and swallow the imposition." "I'll thank you for a cut out of the back of that lion,"{34} tittered a man opposite. With all the natural timidity of the hare whom he thus particularised, I was proceeding to help him, when Echo inquired if he should send me the breast of a swiss {35} and the facetious Eglantine, to increase my confusion, requested to be allowed to cut me a slice off the wing of a wool bird.{36}
31 A Paddyism is called in this university a "Thorpism" from
Mr. Thorp, formerly a hosier of some note in the city. He
was famous for making blunders and coining new words, was
very fond of making long speeches, and when upon the toe,
never failed to convulse his hearers with laughter.
32 Crossed in the buttery—not allowed to battel, a
punishment for missing lecture. By being frequently crossed,
a man will lose his term.
33 Battels—Bread, butter, cheese, salt, eggs, &c.
34 A lion—a hare.
35 Siciss—a pheasant.
36 Wing of a wool bird—Shoulder of lamb.
To have remonstrated against this species of persecution would, I knew, only increase my difficulties; summoning, therefore, all the gaiety I was master of to my aid, I appeared to participate in the joke, like many a modern roué, laughing in unison without comprehending the essence of the whim, merely because it was the fashion. What a helpless race, old father Etona, are thine (thought I), when first they assume the Oxford man; spite of thy fostering care and classic skill, thy offspring are here little better than cawkers{37} or wild Indians. "Is there no glossary of university wit," said I, "to be purchased here, by which the fresh may be instructed in the art of conversation; no Lexicon Balatronicum of college eloquence, by which the ignorant may be enlightened?" "Plenty, old fellow," said Echo: "old Grose is exploded; but, never fear, I will introduce you to the Dictionnaire Universel,{38} which may always be consulted, at our old grandmammas' in St. Clement's, or Eglantine can introduce you at Vincent's,{39} where better known as the poor curate of H——, crossed the channel.
37 Cawker—an Eton phrase for a stranger or novice.
38 Dictionnaire Universel—a standing toast in the common
room at——-College.
The origin of the toast is as follows: When Buonaparte was
at Elba, Dr. E-, one of the wealthy senior Fellows of ——
College.
Soon after his arrival at Paris, as he was walking through the streets of that city, he was accosted by an elegantly dressed Cyprian, to whom he made a profound bow, and told her (in English), that he was not sufficiently acquainted with the French language to comprehend what she had said to him, expressing his regret that he had not his French and English dictionary with him. Scarcely had he pronounced the word dictionary, when the lady, by a most astonishing display, which in England would have disgraced the lowest of the frail sisterhood, exclaimed, "Behold the Dictionnaire Universel, which has been opened by the learned of all nations."{39} Dr. E—, on his return from France, related this anecdote in the common room at ————-, and the Dictionnaire universel has ever since been a standing toast there.
39 A well known respectable bookseller near Brazennose, who
has published a whimsical trifle under the title of "Oxford
in Epitome" very serviceable to freshmen. You may purchase
"Oxford in Epitome," with a Key accompaniment explaining the
whole art and mystery of the finished style.
After a dissertation upon new college puddings,{40} rather a choice dish, an elegant dessert and ices was introduced from Jubbers.{41} The glass now circulated freely, and the open-hearted mirth of my companions gave me a tolerable idea of many of the leading eccentricities of a collegian's life. The Oxford toast, the college divinity, was, I found, a Miss W-, whose father is a wealthy horse-dealer, and whom all agreed was a very amiable and beautiful girl. I discovered that Sadler, Randal, and Crabbe were rum ones for prime hacks—that the Esculapii dii of the university, the demi-gods of medicine and surgery, were Messrs. Wall and Tuckwell—that all proctors were tyrants, and their men savage bull dogs—that good wine was seldom to be bought in Oxford by students—and pretty girls were always to be met at Bagley Wood—that rowing a fellow{42} was considered good sport, and an idle master{43} a jolly dog—that all tradesmen were duns, and all gownsmen suffering innocents—and lastly.
40 New College puddings—a favourite dish with freshmen,
made of grated biscuit, eggs, suet, moist sugar, currants
and lemon-peel, rolled into balls of an oblong shape, fried
in boiling fat, and moistened with brandy.
41 A celebrated Oxford pastry-cook.
42 Rowing a fellow—going with a party in the dead of the
night to a man's room, nailing or screwing his oak up, so as
it cannot be opened on the inside, knocking at his door,
calling out fire, and when he comes to the door, burning a
quantity of shavings, taken from halfpenny faggots dipped in
oil from the staircase lamps, so as to impress him with an
idea that the staircase, in which his rooms are, is on fire.
And when he is frightened almost out of his senses, setting
up a most hideous horse-laugh and running away. This joke
is practised chiefly upon quiet timid men.
43 An idle master—a Master of Arts on the foundation, who
does not take pupils.