Nuts to crack; or Quips, quirks, anecdote and facete of Oxford and Cambridge Scholars. Gooch Richard

Nuts to crack; or Quips, quirks, anecdote and facete of Oxford and Cambridge Scholars - Gooch Richard


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that house upon this distich, which stood for a public inscription in the parlour window thereof, it signifies nothing:—

      “Qua præit Oxoniam Cancestria longa vetustas

       Primatus a Petri dicitur orsa Domo.”

      He finally overwhelms his opponent by adding, that Oxford became a public University in 1264, and that a bull for the purpose was obtained the previous year, Cambridge then “being but an obscure place of learning, if any at all.” Thus I have cracked Nut the First. Those who would add “sweets to the sweets” may find them in abundance in the writers I have named already; and the subject is treated of very learnedly by Dyer, in his Dedication to his “Privileges of the University of Cambridge.”

      GONE TO JERUSALEM.

      A learned living oriental scholar, and a senior fellow of St. John’s College, Cambridge, who thinks less of journeying to Shiraz, Timbuctoo, or the Holy Land, than a Cockney would of a trip to Greenwich Fair or Bagnigge Wells, kept in the same court, in College, with a late tutor, now the amiable rector of Staple——t, in Kent. It was their daily practice, when in residence, to take a ramble together, by the footpaths, round by Granchester, and back to College by Trumpington, or to Madingley, or the Hills, but more commonly the former; all delightful in their way, and well known to gownsmen for various associations. To one of these our College dons daily wended their way cogitating, for they never talked, it is said, over the omnia magna of Cambridge life. Their invariable practice was to keep moving at a stiff pace, some four or five yards in advance of each other. Our amiable tutor went one forenoon to call on Mr. P. before starting, as usual, and found his door sported. This staggered him a little. Mr. P.’s bed-maker chanced to come up at the instant. “Where is Mr. P.?” was his query. “Gone out, sir,” was the reply. “Gone out!” exclaimed Mr. H.; “Where to?” “To Jerusalem,” she rejoined. And to Jerusalem he was gone, sure enough; a circumstance of so little import in his eyes, who had seen most parts of the ancient world already, and filled the office of tutor to an Infanta of Spain, that he did not think it matter worth the notice of his College Chum. Other travellers, “vox et ratio,” as Horace says, would have had the circumstance bruited in every periodical in Christendom, “quinque sequuntur te pueri.”

      A CUTTING RETORT

      Is attributed to the celebrated Lord Chesterfield, when a student of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, where he is said to have studied hard, and rose daily, in the depth of winter, at four or five. He one day met a drunken fellow in the streets of Cambridge, who refused him the wall, observing, “I never give the wall to a rascal.” “I do,” retorted his Lordship, moving out of the way. It was probably this incident that gave rise to the couplet—

      “Base man to take the wall I ne’er permit.”

       The scholar said, “I do;” and gave him it.

      LIBERTY A PLANT.

      “Qui teneros CAULES alieni fregerit horti.”—Hor.

      During the progress of a political meeting held in the town of Cambridge, it so happened that the late Dr. Mansel, then Public Orator of the University of Cambridge, but afterwards Master of Trinity College and Bishop of Bristol, came to the place of meeting just as Musgrave, the well known political tailor of his day, was in the midst of a most pathetic oration, and emphatically repeating, “Liberty, liberty, gentlemen—” He paused—“Liberty is a plant—” “So is a cabbage!” exclaimed the caustic Mansel, before Musgrave had time to complete his sentence, with so happy an allusion to the trade of the tailor, that he was silenced amidst roars of laughter. Another instance of—

      A TAILOR BEING TAKEN BY SURPRISE,

      But by an Oxonian, a learned member of Christ Church, is recorded in the fact, that having, for near half a century, been accustomed to walk with a favourite stick, the ferule of which, at the bottom, came off, he took it to his tailor to have it repaired.

      REASONS FOR NOT PUBLISHING.

      The famous antiquary, Thomas Baker, B.D. of St. John’s College, Cambridge, of which he was long Socius Ejectus, lays it down as a principle, in his admirable Reflections on Learning, “that if we had fewer books, we should have more learning.” It is singular that he never published but the one book named, though he has left behind him forty-two volumes of manuscripts, the greater part in the Harleian Collection, in the British Museum, principally relating to Cambridge, and all neatly written in his own hand.

      DECLINING KING GEORGE.

      When “honest Vere” Foster, as he is called by “mild William,” his contemporary at College, and the grandfather of our celebrated traveller, Dr. Edward Daniel Clarke, was a student at Cambridge, where he was celebrated for his wit and humour, and for being a good scholar, St. John’s being looked upon as a Tory college, a young fellow, a student, reputed a Whig, was appointed to deliver an oration in the College Hall, on the 5th of November. This he did; but having, for some time, dwelt on the double deliverance of that day, in his peroration, he passed from King William to King George, on whom he bestowed great encomiums. When the speech was over, honest Vere and the orator being at table together, the former addressed the latter with, “I did not imagine, sir, that you would decline King George in your speech.” “Decline!” said the astonished orator; “what do you mean? I spoke very largely and handsomely of him.” “That is what I mean, too, sir,” said Vere: “for you had him in every case and termination: Georgius—Georgii—Georgio—Georgium—O Georgi!

      Another of “honest Vere’s”

      CLASSICAL JEU D’ESPRIT

      Is deserving a place in our treasury. He one day asked his learned college contemporary, Dr. John Taylor, editor of Demosthenes, “why he talked of selling his horse?” “Because,” replied the doctor, “I cannot afford to keep him in these hard times.” “You should keep a mare,” rejoined Foster, “according to Horace—

      ‘Æquam memento rebus in arduis

       Servare.’ ”

      A TRAIT OF BARROW.

      Soon after that great, good, and loyal son of Granta, Dr. Isaac Barrow, was made a prebend of Salisbury, says Dr. Pope, “I overheard him say, ‘I wish I had five hundred pounds.’ ‘That’s a large sum for a philosopher,’ observed Dr. Pope; ‘what would you do with so much?’ ‘I would,’ said he, ‘give it to my sister for a portion, that would procure her a good husband.’ A few months after,” adds his memorialist, “he was made happy by receiving the above sum,” which he so much desired, “for putting a new life into the corps of his new prebend.”

      INVETERATE SMOKERS.

      Both Oxford and Cambridge have been famous for inveterate smokers. Amongst them was the learned Dr. Isaac Barrow, who said “it helped his thinking.” His illustrious pupil, Newton, was scarcely less addicted to the “Indian weed,” and every body has heard of his hapless courtship, when, in a moment of forgetfulness, he popped the lady’s finger into his burning pipe, instead of popping the question, and was so chagrined, that he never could be persuaded to press the matter further. Dr. Parr was allowed his pipe when he dined with the first gentleman in Europe, George the Fourth, and when refused the same indulgence by a lady at whose house he was staying, he told her, “she was the greatest tobacco-stopper he had ever met with.” The celebrated Dr. Farmer, of black-letter memory, preferred the comforts of the parlour of Emmanuel College, of which he was master, and a “yard of clay” (there were no hookahs in his day,) to a bishopric, which dignity he twice


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