The adventures of Mr. Verdant Green, an Oxford freshman/chapter 12

" I go home," said Mr. Verdant Green, as he expelled a volume of smoke from his lips, - for he had overcome his first weakness, and now "took his weed" regularly,—"before I go home, I must see what I owe in the place; for my father said he did not like for me to run in debt, but wished me to settle my bills terminally."

"What, you're afraid of having what we call bill-ious fever, I suppose, eh?" laughed Charles Larkyns. "All exploded ideas, my dear fellow. They do very well in their way, but they don't answer; don't pay, in fact; and the shopkeepers don't like it either. By the way, I can shew you a great curiosity;—the autograph of an Oxford tradesman, very rare! I think of presenting it to the Ashmolean." And Mr. Larkyns opened his writing-desk, and took therefrom an Oxford pastrycook's bill, on which appeared the magic word, "Received."

"Now, there is one thing," continued Mr. Larkyns, "which you really must do before you go down, and that is to see Blenheim. And the best thing that you can do is to join Fosbrooke and Bouncer and me, in a trap to Woodstock to-morrow. We'll go in good time, and make a day of it."

Verdant readily agreed to make one of the party; and the next morning, after a breakfast in Charles Larkyns' rooms, they made their way to a side street leading out of Beaumont Street, where the dog-cart was in waiting. As it was drawn by two horses, placed in tandem fashion, Mr. Fosbrooke had an opportunity of displaying his Jehu powers; which he did to great advantage, not allowing his leader to run his nose into the cart, and being enabled to turn sharp corners without chipping the bricks, or running the wheel up the bank.

They reached Woodstock after a very pleasant ride, and clattered up its one long street to the principal hotel; but Mr. Fosbrooke whipped into the yard to the left so rapidly, that our hero, who was not much used to the back seat of a dog-cart, flew off by some means at a tangent to the right, and was consequently degraded in the eyes of the inhabitants.

After ordering for dinner every thing that the house was enabled to supply, they made their way in the first place (as it could only be seen between 11 and 1) to Blenheim; the princely splendours of which were not only costly in themselves, but, as our hero soon found, costly also to the sight-seer. The doors in the suite of apartments were all opposite to each other, so that, as a crimson cord was passed from one to the other, the spectator was kept entirely to the one side of the room, and merely a glance could be obtained of the Raffaelle, the glorious Rubens's, the Vandycks, and the almost equally fine Sir Joshuas. But even the glance they had was but a passing one, as the servant trotted them through the rooms with the rapidity of locomotion and explanation of a Westminster Abbey verger; and he made a fierce attack on Verdant, who had lagged behind, and was short-sightedly peering at the celebrated "Charles the First" of Vandyck, as though he had lingered in order to surreptitiously appropriate some of the tables, couches, and other trifling articles that ornamented the rooms. In this way they went at railroad pace through the suite of rooms and the library,—where the chief thing pointed out appeared to be a grease-mark on the floor made by somebody at somebody else's wedding-breakfast,—and to the chapel, where they admired the ingenuity of the sparrows and other birds that built about Rysbrach's monumental mountain of marble to the memory of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough;—and then to the so-called "Titian room" (shade of mighty Titian, forgive the insult!) where they saw the Loves of the Gods represented in the most unloveable manner, and where a flunkey lounged lazily at the door, and, in spite of Mr. Bouncer's expostulatory "chaff," demanded half-a-crown for the sight.



Indeed, the sight-seeing at Blenheim seemed to be a system of half-crowns. The first servant would take them a little way, and then say, "I don't go any further, sir; half-a-crown!" and hand them over to servant number two, who, after a short interval, would pass them on (half-a-crown!) to the servant who shewed the chapel (half-a-crown!), who would forward them on to the "Titian" Gallery (half-a-crown!), who would hand them over to the flower-garden (half-a-crown!), who would entrust them to the rose-garden (half-a-crown!), who would give them up to another, who shewed parts of the Park, and the rest of it. Somewhat in this manner an Oxford party sees Blenheim (the present of the nation); and Mr. Verdant Green found it the most expensive show-place he had ever seen.

Some of the Park, however, was free (though they were two or three times ordered to "get off the grass"); and they rambled about among the noble trees, and admired the fine views of the Hall, and smoked their weeds, and became very pathetic at Rosamond's Spring. They then came back into Woodstock, which they found to be like all Oxford towns, only rather duller perhaps, the principal signs of life being some fowls lazily pecking about in the grass-grown street, and two cats sporting without fear of interruption from a dog, who was too much overcome by the ennui of the place to interfere with them.

Mr. Bouncer then led the way to an inn, where the bar was presided over by a young lady, "on whom," he said, "he was desperately sweet," and with whom he conversed in the most affable and brotherly manner, and for whom also he had brought, as an appropriate present, a Book of Comic Songs; "for," said the little gentleman, "hang it! she's a girl of what you call mind, you know! and she's heard of the opera, and begun the piano,—though she don't get much time, you see, for it in the bar,—and she sings regular slap-up, and no mistake!"

So they left this young lady drawing bitter beer for Mr. Bouncer, and otherwise attending to her adorer's wants, and endeavoured to have a game of billiards on a wooden table that had no cushions, with curious cues that had no leathers. Slightly failing in this difficult game, they strolled about till dinner-time, when Mr. Verdant Green became mysteriously lost for some time, and was eventually found by Charles Larkyns and Mr. Fosbrooke in a glover's shop, where he was sitting on a high stool, and basking in the sunshiny smiles of two "neat little glovers." Our hero at first feigned to be simply making purchases of Woodstock gloves and purses, as souvenirs of his visit, and presents for his sisters; but in the course of the evening, being greatly "chaffed" on the subject, he began to exercise his imagination, and talk of the "great fun" he had had;—though what particular fun there may be in smiling amiably across a counter at a feminine shopkeeper who is selling you gloves, it is hard to say: perhaps Dr. Sterne could help us to an answer.



They spent altogether a very lively day; and after a rather protracted sitting over their wine, they returned to Oxford with great hilarity, Mr. Bouncer's post-horn coming out with great effect in the stillness of the moonlight night. Unfortunately their mirth was somewhat checked when they had got as far as Peyman's Gate; for the proctor, with mistaken kindness, had taken the trouble to meet them there, lest they should escape him by entering Oxford by any devious way; and the marshal and the bull-dogs were at the leader's head just as Mr. Fosbrooke was triumphantly guiding them through the turnpike. Verdant gave up his name and that of his college with a thrill of terror, and nearly fell off the drag from fright, when he was told to call upon the proctor the next morning.

"Keep your pecker up, old feller!" said Mr. Bouncer, in an encouraging tone, as they drove into Oxford, "and don't be down in the mouth about a dirty trick like this. He won't hurt you much, Gig-lamps! Gate and chapel you; or give you some old Greek party to write out; or send you down to your mammy for a twelve-month; or some little trifle of that sort. I only wish the beggar would come up our staircase! if Huz, and Buz his brother, didn't do their duty by him, it would be doosid odd. Now, don't you go and get bad dreams, Gig-lamps! because it don't pay; and you'll soon get used to these sort of things; and what's the odds, as long as you're happy? I like to take things coolly, I do."

To judge from Mr. Bouncer's serenity, and the far-from-nervous manner in which he "sounded his octaves," he at least appeared to be thoroughly used to "that sort of thing," and doubtless slept as tranquilly as though nothing wrong had occurred. But it was far different with our hero, who passed a sleepless night of terror as to his probable fate on the morrow.



And when the morrow came, and he found himself in the dreaded presence of the constituted authority, armed with all the power of the law, he was so overcome, that he fell on his knees and made an abject spectacle of himself, imploring that he might not be expelled, and bring down his father's grey hairs in the usually quoted manner. To his immense relief, however, he was treated in a more lenient way; and as the term had nearly expired, his punishment could not be of long duration; and as for the impositions, why, as Mr. Bouncer said, "Ain't there coves to barberise 'em for you, Gig-lamps?"

Thus our freshman gained experience daily; so that by the end of the term, he found that short as the time had been, it had been long enough for him to learn what Oxford life was like, and that there was in it a great deal to be copied, as well as some things to be shunned. The freshness he had so freely shown on entering Oxford had gradually yielded as the term went on; and, when he had run halloing the Brazenface boat all the way up from Iffley, and had seen Mr. Blades realize his most sanguine dreams as to "the head of the river;" and when, from the gallery of the theatre, he had taken part in the licensed saturnalia of the Commemoration, and had cheered for the ladies in pink and blue, and even given "one more" for the very proctor who had so lately interfered with his liberties; and when he had gone to a farewell pass-party (which Charles Larkyns did not give), and had assisted in the other festivities that usually mark the end of the academical year,—Mr. Verdant Green found himself to be possessed of a considerable acquisition of knowledge of a most miscellaneous character; and on the authority, and in the figurative eastern language of Mr. Bouncer, "he was sharpened up no end, by being well rubbed against university bricks. So, good by, old feller!" said the little gentleman, with a kind remembrance of imaginary individuals, "and give my love to Sairey and the little uns." And Mr. Bouncer "went the complete unicorn," for the last time in that term, by extemporising a farewell solo to Verdant, which was of such an agonizing character of execution, that Huz, and Buz his brother, lifted up their noses and howled.

"Which they're the very moral of Christyuns, sir!" observed Mrs. Tester, who was dabbing her curtseys in thankfulness for the large amount with which our hero had "tipped" her. "And has ears for moosic, sir. With grateful thanks to you, sir, for the same. And it's obleeged I feel in my art. Which it reelly were like what my own son would do, sir. As was found in drink for his rewing. And were took to the West Injies for a sojer. Which he were—ugh! oh, oh! Which you be'old me a hafflicted martyr to these spazzums, sir. And how I am to get through them doorin' the veecation. Without a havin' 'em eased by a-goin' to your cupboard, sir. For just three spots o' brandy on a lump o' sugar, sir. Is a summut as I'm afeered to think on. Oh! ugh!" Upon which Mrs. Tester's grief and spasms so completely overcame her, that our hero presented her with an extra half-sovereign, wherewith to purchase the medicine that was so peculiarly adapted to her complaint. Mr. Robert Filcher was also "tipped" in the same liberal manner; and our hero completed his first term's residence in Brazenface by establishing himself as a decided favourite.

Among those who seemed disposed to join in this opinion was the Jehu of the Warwickshire coach, who expressed his conviction to our delighted hero, that "he wos a young gent as had much himproved hisself since he tooled him up to the 'Varsity with his guvnor." To fully deserve which high opinion, Mr. Verdant Green tipped for the box-seat, smoked more than was good for him, and besides finding the coachman in weeds, drank with him at every "change" on the road.

The carriage met him at the appointed place, and his luggage (no longer encased in canvas, after the manner of females) was soon transferred to it; and away went our hero to the Manor Green, where he was received with the greatest demonstrations of delight. Restored to the bosom of his family, our hero was converted into a kind of domestic idol; while it was proposed by Miss Mary Green, seconded by Miss Fanny, and carried by unanimous acclamation, that Mr. Verdant Green's University career had greatly enhanced his attractions.

The opinion of the drawing-room was echoed from the servants'-hall, the ladies' maid in particular being heard freely to declare, that "Oxford College had made quite a man of Master Verdant!"

As the little circumstance on which she probably grounded her encomium had fallen under the notice of Miss Virginia Verdant, it may have accounted for that most correct-minded lady being more reserved in expressing her opinion of her nephew's improvement than were the rest of the family; but she nevertheless thought a great deal on the subject.

"Well, Verdant!" said Mr. Green, after hearing divers anecdotes of his son's college-life, carefully prepared for home-consumption; "now tell us what you've learnt in Oxford."

"Why," replied our hero, as he reflected on his freshman's career, "I have learnt to think for myself, and not to believe every thing that I hear; and I think I could fight my way in the world; and I can chaff a cad—"



"Chaff a cad! oh!" groaned Miss Virginia to herself, thinking it was something extremely dreadful.

"And I have learnt to row—at least, not quite; but I can smoke a weed—a cigar, you know. I've learnt that."

"Oh, Verdant, you naughty boy!" said Mrs. Green, with maternal fondness. "I was sadly afraid that Charles Larkyns would teach you all his wicked school habits!"

"Why, mama," said Mary, who was sitting on a footstool at her brother's knee, and spoke up in defence of his college friend; "why, mama, all gentlemen smoke; and of course Mr. Charles Larkyns and Verdant must do as others do. But I dare say, Verdant, he taught you more useful things than that, did he not?"

"Oh, yes," replied Verdant; "he taught me to grill a devil."

"Grill a devil!" groaned Miss Virginia. "Infatuated young man!"

"And to make shandy-gaff and sherry-cobbler, and brew bishop and egg-flip: oh, it's capital! I'll teach you how to make it; and we'll have some to-night!"

And thus the young gentleman astonished his family with the extent of his learning, and proved how a youth of ordinary natural attainments may acquire other knowledge in his University career than what simply pertains to classical literature.

And so much experience had our hero gained during his freshman's term, that when the pleasures of the Long Vacation were at an end, and he had returned to Brazenface, with his firm and fast friend Charles Larkyns, he felt himself entitled to assume a patronizing air to the freshmen who then entered, and even sought to impose upon their credulity in ways which his own personal experience suggested.

It was clear that Mr. Verdant Green had made his farewell bow as an Oxford Freshman.