"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:—

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

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:—

"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

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.

THE OXFORD RAKE'S PROGRESS.

ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE

By the time old Mark Supple had finished his somewhat lengthy tale, the major part of the motley group of eccentrics who surrounded us were terribly cut: the garrulous organ of Jack Milburn was unable to articulate a word; Goose B——l, the gourmand, was crammed full, and looked, as he lay in the arms of Morpheus, like a fat citizen on the night of a lord mayor's dinner—a lump of inanimate mortality. In one corner lay a poor little Grecian, papa Chrysanthus Demetriades, whom Tom Echo had plied with bishop till he fell off his chair; Count Dennet was safely deposited beside him; and old Will Stewart,{28} the poacher, was just humming himself to sleep with the fag end of an old ballad as he sat upon the ground

resting his back against the defunct Grecian. A diminutive little cripple, Johnny Holloway, was sleeping between his legs, upon whose head Tom had fixed a wig of immense size, crowned with an opera hat and a fox's tail for a feather. "Now to bury the dead," said Eglantine; "let in the lads, Mark." "Now we shall have a little sport, old fellows," said Echo: "come, Transit, where are your paints and brushes?" In a minute the whole party were most industriously engaged in disfiguring the objects around us by painting their faces, some to resemble tattooing, while others were decorated with black eyes, huge mustachios, and different embellishments, until it would have been impossible for friend or relation to have recognised any one of their visages. This ceremony being completed, old Mark introduced a new collection of worthies, who had been previously instructed for the sport; these were, I found, no other than the well-known Oxford cads, Marston Will, Tom Webb, Harry Bell, and Dick Rymal,{29} all out and outers, as Echo reported, for a spree with the gown, who had been regaled at some neighbouring public house by Eglantine, to be in readiness for the wind-up of his eccentric entertainment; to the pious care of these worthies were consigned the strange-looking mortals who surrounded us. The plan was, I found, to carry them out quietly between two men, deposit them in a cart which they had in waiting, and having taken them to the water-side, place them in a barge and send them drifting down the water in the night to Iffley, where their consternation on recovering the next morning and strange appearance would be sure to create a source of merriment both for the city and university. The instructions were most punctually obeyed, and the amusement the freak afterwards afforded the good people of Oxford will not very

quickly be forgotten. Thus ended the spread—and now having taken more than my usual quantity of wine, and being withal fatigued by the varied amusements of the evening, I would fain have retired to rest: but this, I found, would be contrary to good fellowship, and not at all in accordance with college principles. "We must have a spree" said Echo, "by way of finish, the rum ones are all shipped off safely by this time—suppose we introduce Blackmantle to our grandmamma, and the pretty Nuns of St. Clement's." "Soho, my good fellows," said Transit; "we had better defer our visit in that direction until the night is more advanced. The old don{30} of——, remember, celebrates the Paphian mysteries in that quarter occasionally, and we may not always be able to shirk him as effectually as on the other evening, when Echo and myself were snugly enjoying a tête-a-tête with Maria B——and little Agnes S——{31}; we accidentally caught a glimpse of old Morality cautiously toddling after the pious Mrs. A—ms, vide-licet of arts,{32} a lady who has been regularly matriculated at this university, and taken up her degrees some years since. It was too rich a bit to lose, and although at the risk of discovery, I booked it immediately eo instunti. 'Exegi monumentum aere perennius'—and here it is."

"An excellent likeness, i'faith, is it," said Eglantine; whose eyes twinkled like stars amid the wind-driven clouds, and whose half clipped words and unsteady motion sufficiently evinced that he had paid due attention to the old laws of potation. "There's nothing like the cloth for comfort, old fellows; remember what a man of Christ Church wrote to George Colman when he was studying for the law.

If Colman had turned parson he would have had a bishoprick long since, and rivalled that jolly old ancient Walter de Mapes. Then what an honour he would have been to the church; no drowsy epistles spun out in lengthened phrase,

but true orthodox wit: the real light of grace would have fallen from his lips and charmed the crowded aisle; the rich epigrammatic style, the true creed of the churchman; no fear of canting innovations or evangelical sceptics; but all would have proceeded harmoniously, ay, and piously too—for true piety consists not in purgation of the body, but in purity of mind. Then if we could but have witnessed Colman filling the chair in one of our common rooms, enlivening with his genius, wit, and social conversation the learned dromedaries of the Sanctum, and dispelling the habitual gloom of a College Hospitium, what chance would the sectarians of Wesley, or the infatuated followers even of that arch rhapsodist, Irving, have with the attractive eloquence and sound reasoning of true wit?" "Bravo! bravo!"vociferated the party. "An excellent defence of the church," said Echo, "for which Eglantine deserves to be inducted to a valuable benefice; suppose we adjourn before the college gates are closed, and install him under the Mitre." A proposition that met with a ready acquiescence from all present.{33}

ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE

TOWN AND GOWN, AN OXFORD ROW.

ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE

The clocks of Oxford were echoing each other in proclaiming the hour of midnight, when Eglantine led the way by opening the door of his hospitium to descend into the quadrangle of Brazen-nose. "Steady, steady, old fellows," said Horace; "remember the don on the first-floor—hush, all be silent as the grave till you pass his oak." "Let us row him—let us fumigate the old fellow," said Echo; "this is the night of purification, lads—bring some pipes, and a little frankincense, Mark." And in this laudable enterprise of blowing asafoetida smoke through the don's key-hole the whole party were about to be instantly engaged, when an accidental slip of Eglantine's spoiled the joke. While in the act of remonstrating with his jovial companions on the dangerous consequences attending detection, the scholar sustained a fall which left him suddenly deposited against the oak of the crabbed old Master of Arts, who inhabited rooms on the top of the lower staircase; fortunately, the dignitary had on that evening carried home more liquor than learning from the common room, and was at the time of the accident almost as sound asleep as the original founder. "There lies the domini of the feast," said Echo, "knocked down in true orthodox style by the bishop—follow your leader, boys; and take care of your craniums, or you may chance to get a few phreno-lo-lo-logi-cal bu-lps—I begin to feel that hard study has somewhat impaired my artic-tic-u-u-la-tion, but then I can always raise a per-pendic-dic-u-u-lar, you see—always good at mathemat-tics. D—n Aristotle, and the rest of the saints! say I: you see what comes of being logical." All of which exultation over poor Eglantine's disaster, Echo had the caution to make while steadying himself by keeping fast hold of one of the balustrades on the landing; which that arch wag Transit perceiving, managed to cut nearly through with a knife, and then putting his foot against it sent Tom suddenly oft in a flying leap after his companion, to the uproarious mirth of the whole party. By the time our two friends had recovered their legs, we were all in marching order for the Mitre; working in sinuosities along, for not one of the party could have moved at right angles to any given point, or have counted six street lamps without at least multiplying them to a dozen. In a word, they were ripe for any spree, full of frolic, and bent on mischief; witness the piling a huge load of coals against one man's door, screwing up the oak of another, and milling the glaze of a third, before we quitted the precincts of Brazen-nose, which we did separately, to escape observation from the Cerberus who guarded the portal.

It is in a college wine-party that the true character of your early associates are easily discoverable: out of the excesses of the table very often spring the truest impressions, the first, but indelible affection which links kindred spirits together in after-time, and cements with increasing years into the most inviolable friendship. Here the sallies of youth, unchecked by care, or fettered by restraint, give loose to mirth and revelry; and the brilliancy of genius and the warm-hearted gaiety of pure delight are found in the highest perfection.

The blue light of heaven illumined the magnificent square of Radcliffe, when we passed from beneath the porch of Brazen-nose, and tipping with her silvery light the surrounding architecture, lent additional beauty to the solemn splendour of the scene. Sophisticated as my faculties certainly were by the copious libations and occurrences of the day, I could yet admire with reverential awe the imposing grandeur by which I was surrounded.

A wayward being from my infancy, not the least mark of my eccentricity is the peculiar humour in which I find myself when I have sacrificed too freely to the jolly god: unlike the major part of mankind, my temperament, instead of being invigorated and enlivened by the sparkling juice of the grape, loses its wonted nerve and elasticity; a sombre gloominess pervades the system, the pulse becomes nervous and languid, the spirits flagging and depressed, and the mind full of chimerical apprehensions and ennui. It was in this mood that Eglantine found me ruminating on the noble works before me, while resting against a part of the pile of Radcliffe library, contemplating the elegant crocketed pinnacles of All Souls, the delicately taper spire of St. Mary's, and the clustered enrichments and imperial canopies of masonry, and splendid traceries which every where strike the eye: all of which objects were rendered trebly impressive from the stillness of the night, and the flittering light by which they were illumined. I had enough of wine and frolic, and had hoped to have shirked the party and stolen quietly to my lodgings, there to indulge in my lucubrations on the scene I had witnessed, and note in my journal, according to my usual practice, the more prominent events of the day, when Horace commenced with—

"Where the devil, old fellow, have you been hiding yourself? I've been hunting you some time. A little cut, I suppose: never mind, my boy, you'll be better presently. Here's glorious sport on foot; don't you hear the war-cry?" At this moment a buzz of distant voices broke upon the ear like the mingled shouts of an election tumult. "There they are, old fellow: come, buckle on your armour—we must try your mettle to-night. All the university are out—a glorious row—come along, no shirking—-the togati against the town raff—remember the sacred cause, my boy." And in this way, spite of all remonstrance, was I dragged through the lane and enlisted with the rest of my companions into a corps of university men who were just forming themselves in the High-street to repel the daring attack of the very scum of the city, who had ill-treated and beaten some gownsmen in the neighbourhood of St. Thomas's, and had the temerity to follow and assail them in their retreat to the High-street with every description of villanous epithet, and still more offensive and destructive missiles. "Stand fast there, old fellows," said Echo; who, although devilishly cut, seemed to be the leader of the division. "Where's old Mark Supple?" "Here I am sir, take notice" said the old scout, who appeared as active as an American rifleman. "Will Peake send us the bludgeons?" "He won't open his doors, sir, for anybody, take notice." "Then down with the Mitre, my hearties;" and instantly a rope was thrown across the bishop's cap by old Mark, and the tin sign, lamp, and all came tumbling into the street, smashed into a thousand pieces.

PEAKE (looking out of an upper window in his night-cap). Doey be quiet, and go along, for God's zake, gentlemen! I shall be ruinated and discommoned if I open my door to any body.

TOM ECHO. You infernal old fox-hunter! if you don't doff your knowledge bag and come to the door, we'll mill all your glaze, burst open your gates, and hamstring all your horses.

MRS. PEAKE (in her night-gown). Stand out of the way, Peake; let me speak to the gentlemen. Gentlemen, doey, gentlemen, consider my reputation, and the reputation of ray house. O dear, gentlemen, doey go somewhere else—we've no sticks here, I azzure ye, and we're all in bed. Doey go, gentlemen, pray do.

TRANSIT. Dame Peake, if you don't open your doors directly, we'll break them open, and unkennel that old bagg'd fox, your husband, and drink all the black strap in your cellar, and—and play the devil with the maids.

MRS. PEAKE. Don'te say so, don'te say so, Mr. Transit; I know you to be a quiet, peaceable gentleman, and I am zure you will befriend me: doey persuade 'em to go away, pray do,

MARK SUPPLE. Dame Peake

MRS. PEAKE. Oh, Mr. Mark Supple, are you there I talk to the gentlemen, Mr. Mark, pray do.

MARK SUPPLE. It's no use, dame Peake; they won't be gammon'd, take notice. If you have any old broom-handles, throw 'em out directly, and if not, throw all the brooms you have in the house out of window—throw out all your sticks—throw Peake out. I'm for the gown, take notice. Down with the town! down with the town!

BILL MAGS. (The waiter, at a lower window.) Hist, hist, Mr. Echo; Mr. Eglantine, hist, hist; master's gone to the back of the house with all the sticks he can muster; and here's an old kitchen-chair you can break up and make bludgeons of (throwing the chair out of window), and here's the cook's rolling-pin, and I'll go and forage for more ammunition.

HORACE EGLANTINE. You're a right good fellow, Bill; and I'll pay you before I do your master; and the Brazen-nose men shall make your fortune.

TOM ECHO. But where's the academicals I sent old Captain Cook for 1 We shall be beating one another in the dark without caps and gowns.

CAPTAIN COOK. (A scout of Christ Church.) Here I be, zur. That old rogue, Dick Shirley, refuses to send any gowns; he says he has nothing but noblemen's gowns and gold tufts in his house.

THE HON. LILLYMAN LIONISE. By the honour of my ancestry, that fellow shall never draw another stitch for Christ Church as long as he lives. Come along, captain: by the honour of my ancestry, we'll uncase the old snyder; we'll have gowns, I warrant me, noble or not noble, gold tufts or no tufts. Come along, Cook.

In a few moments old Captain Cook and the exquisite returned loaded with gowns and caps, having got in at the window and completely cleared the tailor's shop of all his academicals, in spite of his threats or remonstrances. In the interim, old Mark Supple and Echo had succeeded in obtaining a supply of broom-handles and other weapons of defence; when the insignia of the university, the toga and cap, were soon distributed indiscriminately: the numbers of the university men increased every moment; and the yell of the town raff seemed to gain strength with every step as they approached the scene of action. Gown! gown! Town! town! were the only sounds heard in every direction; and the clamour and the tumult of voices were enough to shake the city with dismay. The authorities were by no means idle; but neither proctors or pro's, or marshal, or bull-dogs, or even deans, dons, and dignitaries, for such there were, who strained their every effort to quell the disturbance, were at all attended to, and many who came as peace-makers were compelled in their own defence to take an active part in the fray.

From the bottom of the High-street to the end of the corn-market, and across again through St. Aldate's to the old bridge, every where the more peaceable and respectable citizens might be seen popping their noddles out of window, and rubbing their half-closed eyes with affright, to learn the cause of the alarming strife.

Of the strong band of university men who rushed on eager for the coming fray, a number of them were fresh light-hearted Etonians and old Westminsters, who having just arrived to place themselves under the sacred banners of Academus, thought their honour and their courage both concerned in defending the togati: most of these youthful zealots had as usual, at the beginning of a term, been lodged in the different inns and houses of the city, and from having drank somewhat freely of the welcome cup with old schoolfellows and new friends, were just ripe for mischief, unheedful of the consequences or the cause.

On the other hand, the original fomenters of the strife had recruited their forces with herds of the lowest rabble gathered from the purlieus of their patron saints, St. Clement and St. Thomas, and the shores of the Charwell,—the bargees, and butchers, and labourers, and scum of the suburbians: a huge conglomerated mass of thick sculls, and broad backs, and strengthy arms, and sturdy legs, and throats bawling for revenge, and hearts bursting with wrathful ire, rendered still more frantic and desperate by the magic influence of their accustomed war-whoop. These formed the base barbarian race of Oxford truands,{1} including every vile thing that passes under the generic name of raff. From college to college the mania spread with the rapidity of an epidemic wind; and scholars, students, and fellows were every where in motion: here a stout bachelor of arts might be seen knocking down the ancient Cerberus who opposed his passage; there the iron-bound college gates were forced open by the united power of the youthful inmates. In another quarter might be seen the heir of some noble family risking his neck in the headlong leap {2}; and near him, a party of the togati scaling the sacred battlements with as much energetic zeal as the ancient crusaders would have displayed against the ferocious Saracens.