A STORY OF A NOBLE OXONIAN,
Then Mr. afterwards Lord Lyttleton, to whom the epithet of “Reprobus,” they say, might have been applied with more justice than it was to the famous Saxon Bishop, St. Wulstan, by the monks of his day. Humour was his lordship’s natural element, and whilst resident at Christ Church, Oxford, he dressed himself in a bright scarlet hunting coat, top-boots and spurs, buckskin breeches, &c., and putting his gown over all, presented himself to the head of his college, who was a strict disciplinarian. “Good God! Mr. Lyttleton,” exclaimed the Dean, “this is not a dress fit to be seen in a college.” “I beg your pardon,” said the wag, “I thought myself in perfect costume! Will you be pleased to tell me how I should dress, Mr. Dean?” The dean was at this time Vice-Chancellor, and happened to be in his robes of office. “You should dress like me, Sir,” said the Doctor, referring to his black coat, tights, knee-buckles, and silk stockings. Mr. Lyttleton thanked him and left, but to the Doctor’s astonishment, he the next day presented himself at the Deanery, drest in Vice-Chancellor’s robes, &c., an exact fac-simile of the dean himself, and when rebuked coolly observed, that he had followed the dean’s directions to the letter.
IT IS RELATED OF THE SAME OXFORD WAG,
That having a party to supper with him, and being anxious to play the Dean some harmless trick, as his delight was to annoy him, he seized a potato off the dish, stuck it on a fork, and bolted off with it to the deanery, followed by some of his boon companions. This was at one, two, or three in the morning, when all the rest of the college, and of course the Dean, were locked in the embrace of Somnus. Mr. Lyttleton, however, resolving to have his joke, began thundering away at the Dean’s knocker, till roused at last, he put his head out at the window, and in a rage demanded the wants of the applicant. “Do you think, Mr. Dean,” said Mr. L., holding up to his view the forked potato with the coolest effrontery imaginable; “Do you think, Mr. Dean, that this is a potato fit to put upon a gentleman’s table?” Dr. Westphalinge, Canon of Christ Church, afterwards Bishop of Hereford, and one of the Commissioners sent to Oxford to abolish Popish practices, by Elizabeth, says Bishop Godwyn,
WAS A PERSON OF SUCH CONSUMMATE GRAVITY,
“That during a familiar acquaintance with him for many years, he never once saw him laugh,”—“Nunquam in risum viderim solutum.” As an antidote to such eternal gravity, I can scarcely do better than append the following Aristophanic morsel, attributed to Porson, and cry “Hold, enough!” Chorus of Printers’ Imps—“Enough!”
INVENTORY OF GOODS FOR SALE.
Βλάγκητοι, κύλτοι, δύο βόλστερες, ἤδὲ πιλωβῆρ
Καὶ ἕν ματρέσσον, καὶ λεῦκον καλικο κίρτον,
Καὶ μιὰ καρπεττὴ, κὰι χέστον μαογανο͂ιον
Ἕις κουντερπαννος, κὰι γρατὸν καστο σιδηρον
Ἤδε δύω βοῦροι, δύο τάβλοι, κὰι δύο διττώ.
Τουελλοι δῶσεν, δῶσεν ϕαῦκόι τέ, νιφοὶ τε
Σάυσπαν κὰι στεῦπαν, σπίττον καὶ σμῶκον ἴακον
Γριδίρον, φεῖρπαν, τόγγοι, φενδήρ τὲ, ποκήρ τε,
Κοππὴρ καὶ βοίληρ καὶ κιλλὴρ ἢδε συελτοβ.
Καὶ ἕν βασκητὸν κατα βακχοῦς, καὶ δυό ποττυξ,
Καὶ ἕν δριππίνπαν, κύλερες δυό, καὶ σαλαμάνδηρ
Καὶ δὺο π**ποττοι, σπιττίνπαν, πεῖπ τε το βακχώ.