Little Mr Bouncer and His Friend Verdant Green/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
LITTLE MR. BOUNCER HEARS SOME THINGS FOR HIS ADVANTAGE, AND OTHERS FOR HIS AMUSEMENT.
ITTING and lounging after breakfast in little Mr. Bouncer's room, his friends were making themselves very happy, having the last day of Term before them, and no lectures to attend. As much enjoyment, therefore, and good fellowship as it was possible to cram into the next twenty-four hours, were now to be packed by them into that compass of time, so that they might carry away from Oxford a rich freightage of happy memories on which to dwell with satisfaction during the ensuing months of the Long Vacation.
"Did you hear of Warner of Exeter's Wine, last Monday night?" said Mr. Blades. "I was there; and he had asked two townsmen—tradesmen; perhaps he had ticks at their shops and wanted to be civil; any way they were very decent people and capital company. They seemed very much at home and not at all disposed to go; and, when they talked about doing so, Warner, like bold Turpin in Sam Weller's song 'perwailed' on them to stop."
Mr. Bouncer could not resist the opportunity of repeating the chorus from Sam Weller's song. "'Chorus, sarcastically. But Dick put a couple of balls in his nob, and perwailed on him to stop.' Fire away, Billy."
"I heard a good thing of old Towzer," said Mr. Flexible Shanks, referring to the Senior Proctor, the Rev. Thomas Tozer, who was familiarly known by the name that Mr. Flexible Shanks gave to him. "He was in the Corn Market yesterday morning about twelve o'clock, when he met a University man with his gown over his arm. Old Towzer called to him, and pretending to take him for a scout, said, 'Here! you there! When next you carry your master's gown to the tailor's, I should advise you not to put on his cap.' With that, old Towzer walked off. That was not bad, I think."
"Not at all," said Charles Larkyns; "but did you hear of the Dean of St. Vitus's? Downton, of that College, has a twin brother, who came up to see him for the Commemoration week. The Dean met this twin walking by himself in the High Street, and, of course, without academicals. As you know, the Dean is very peppery unless he is duly capped; and the twin passed him without raising his hat. 'Stop, sir!' said the Dean; 'I am astonished that you should thus pass me without taking any notice of me.' 'I am not aware,' replied the twin, 'that I have the pleasure of knowing you.' 'Not know me!' cried the Dean; 'not know me! Why, is not your name Downton?' 'Yes; that is my name,' answered the twin. 'Then, sir,' fumed the Dean, 'what do you mean by passing me without capping me? And, how is it, sir, that you are walking about here without your academicals? Go to your College, at once, sir; and to-morrow' Here the twin cut him short: 'I have no College.' 'No College, sir!' cried the Dean; 'do you mean to deny that you are Downton of St. Vitus's?' 'Indeed, I do,' said the twin. The Dean rubbed his eyes, and could bear matters no longer. 'You shall be punished for your impertinence, sir; you shall hear more of this!' and then he walked off in high dudgeon. The end of it was, that the other brother was summoned to appear before the Dean, where the matter might have been carried on much further; but he thought it best to save himself trouble by taking his twin brother with him, and explaining circumstances. The Dean, who is a very jolly fellow, laughed heartily at his mistake, and made them stay and have a glass of wine with him."
"Talking of wine," said little Mr. Bouncer, "which of you men are going to Effingham's Little-go Wine to-night? Don't all speak at once."
Two or three responded in the affirmative; and Mr. Bouncer's question caused the conversation to turn upon the recent "Little-go" and "Great-go." The examinations of that day were not complicated by the introduction of "Mods." Enough, for most men, were the "Smalls" and "Greats;" some men, indeed, found them to be more than enough; and it was of one of these unfortunates that mention was now made.
"Poor Ellison has been plucked again," said Mr. Flexible Shanks. "Although the examiner blandly asked him if he desired to maintain his opinion, yet Ellison persisted that etsi was the perfect of a verb, of which etiam was the subjunctive mood; and he further hurt the examiner's feelings by rashly asserting that clam was an adjective, accusative, feminine; and declined it for him—clus, cla, clam; after which the examiner declined to receive Ellison's further shots."
"I hear, too," said Charles Larkyns, as he puffed at his long "Churchwarden" clay," that Broughton, the
gentleman-commoner of Worcester College, has been ploughed for his Greats. You know his way of answering, in his hesitating way? 'It is—aw—generally—aw—thought—aw,—that' so-and-so; just as though he had carefully digested all the known authorities on the subject, and gave the result of their opinions to the examiner. He had, as usual, fallen back on the stock answer, and had asserted that some city, of whose geographical position he was densely ignorant, was aw—generally thought—aw—to be an—aw—island in the Ægean Sea; and he had also assured the examiner that it was—aw—generally thought—aw—that Troy was—aw—the capital of Italy; when the examiner, beginning to lose his temper, said—and, like the Verkus Boy of the song, he 'said it, and he said it with a sneer,' 'Perhaps, sir, you will be good enough to favour me with your opinion as to what country London is the capital of?' Upon which Broughton, as cool as a cucumber, hummed and hawed, and said, 'It is—aw—generally thought—aw—that it is—aw—the capital of England.' 'Generally thought, sir!' roared the examiner; 'why! was it ever doubted?' And then he plucked him. Alas, for Broughton! he was not like Adolphus Smalls, of Balliol, of whom—parodying the lines from 'Lars Porsenna' of Clussium,
It was more than three stout oxen
Could plough from morn to night
it was said,
He was more than three examiners
Could plough from morn to night.
No! poor Broughton, if he had been in tune for it, could have sung with the Oxford Plough'd Boy—
I am plough'd! I am plough'd! and the second time, too!
I 've got no Testamur; what am I to do?
Off, off, with my bands, and off, off, with my tie!
I am plough'd, I am plough'd, and I cannot tell why.
I read very hard the whole of last Term:
I worked with a Coach—in vacation was firm;
I went up to Town for a week, I confess,
To see a sick uncle—I could n't do less.
Short, short, were my slumbers, as paper-work near'd;
My Logic was shady, my Latin I fear'd;
Up, up in the morning—up, up late at night;
And yet I am plough'd and my tutor is right.
Little Mr. Bouncer, with his love for a chorus, repeated the last line with great vigour, and would feign have volunteered an accompaniment on his post-horn; but (happily) that instrument was not just within his reach, and he was too comfortably ensconced in his easy-chair to rise up to get it; so he demanded an encore, and repeated the chorus to his great satisfaction.
Other specimens from the recent examinations were then quoted; but as they were for the most part replies to questions in the Divinity vivâ voce, the talk of them had better be left to the obscurity of the cigar-smoke in little Mr. Bouncer's room. It was very evident, however, that more than one Mr. Anser had failed to answer his examiners' questions, except in an outrageously absurd way; and that. poor Mr. Goosey, in spite of his assumed look of wisdom, was in danger of being plucked. But, such is the goose's doom.