His Wig and Hat Fell Into the Water
HIS TRIPLE, THRICE-CONFUSED DISCOURSE,
THE CELEBRATED LORD SANDWICH,
THE INVENTOR OF SANDWICHES
LAPSUS LINGUÆ
And he coolly stepped overboard to recover them, without once dreaming that it was not terra-firma, and was fished out with great difficulty. He frequently wrote a letter to one person, forgot to subscribe his name to it, and directed it to another. On one occasion he provided himself with three sermons, having been appointed to preach before the Archdeacon and Clergy of the district. Some wags got them, and having intermixed the leaves, stitched them together in that state, and put them into his sermon-case. He mounted the pulpit at the usual time, took his text, but soon surprised his reverend audience by taking leave of the thread of his discourse. He was, however, so insensible to the dilemma in which he was placed, that he went preaching on. At last the congregation became impatient, both from the length and the nature of his sermon. First the archdeacon slipped out, then the clergy, one by one, followed by the rest of the congregation; but he never flagged, and would have finished Had not the clerk reminded him that they were the sole occupants of the lately-crowded church. He went down to Cambridge to vote for his Eton contemporary, When the latter was candidate for the dignity of High-steward of the University, in opposition to Pitt. His lordship invited him to dine with some friends at the Rose Inn. “Apropos, my lord,” exclaimed Harvest, during the meal, “whence do you derive your nick-name of Jemmy Twitcher?” “Why,” said his lordship, “from some foolish fellow.” “No, no,” said Harvest, “not from some, for every body calls you so;” on which his lordship, knowing it to be the favourite dish of his quondam friend, put a huge slice of plum-pudding upon his plate, which effectually stopped his mouth. His lordship has the credit of being the originator and first President of the Cambridge Oriental Club. He was also Once passing a whole day at some game of which he was fond, he became so absorbed in its progress, that he denied himself time to eat, in the usual way, and ordered a slice of beef between two pieces of toasted bread, which he masticated without quitting his game; and that sort of refreshment has ever since borne the designation of a Sandwich. Parkes, in his Musical Memoirs, gives him the credit of It happened, he says, that during a feast given to his lordship by the Corporation of Worcester, when he was First Lord of the Admiralty, a servant let fall a dish with a boiled neat’s tongue, as he was bringing it to table. The Mayor expressing his concern to his lordship, “Never mind,” said he, “it’s only a lapsus linguæ!” which Witty saying creating a great deal of mirth, one of the Aldermen present, at a dinner he gave soon after, instructed his servant to throw down a roast leg of mutton, that he too might have his joke. This was done; “Never mind,” he exclaimed to his friends, “it’s only a lapsus linguæ.” The company stared, but he begun a roaring laugh, solus. Finding nobody joined therein, he stopped his mirth, saying, that when Lord Sandwich said it, every body laughed, and he saw no reason why they should not laugh at him. This sally had the desired effect, and the company, one and all, actually shook their sides, and our host was satisfied.
OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE LOYALTY
In 1717, George I. and his ministers had contrived to make themselves so unpopular, that the badges of the disaffected, oaken boughs, were publicly worn on the 29th of May, and white roses on the birth-day of the Pretender, the 10th of June. Oxford, and especially the university, manifested such strong feelings, that it was deemed expedient to send a military force there: Cambridge, more inclined to the Whig principles of the court and government, was at the same time complimented with a present of books. Upon this occasion, Dr. Trapp, the celebrated Oxford poet and divine, wrote the following epigram:—
Our royal master saw, with heedful eyes,
The wants of his two universities:
Troops he to Oxford sent, as knowing why
That learned body wanted loyalty;
But books to Cambridge gave, as well discerning
How that right loyal body wanted learning.
Cambridge, as may be well supposed, was not backward in retorting: and an able champion she found in her equally celebrated scholar, physician, and benefactor, Sir William Blowne (founder of a scholarship and the three gold medals called after his name,) who replied to Dr. Trapp in the following quaternion:—
The king to Oxford sent a troop of horse,
For Tories know no argument but force:
With equal grace, to Cambridge books he sent,
For Whigs allow no force but argument.
THE CUSHION PLOT,
Not that Cambridge was behind Oxford in supporting the unfortunate Charles the First, to whom the several colleges secretly conveyed nearly all their ancient plate; and Cromwell, in consequence, retaliated by confining and depriving numbers of her most distinguished scholars, both laymen and divines, many of whom died in exile: and the commissioners of parliament, with a taste worthy of the worst barbarians, caused many of the buildings to be despoiled of their architectural ornaments and exquisite pieces of sculpture and painted glass. It was at this time appeared the following celebrated poetic trifle, extant in the Oxford Sausage, known as Written by Herbert Beaver, Esq., of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, when “Gaby” (as the then President, Dr. Shaw, is called, who had been a zealous Jacobite,) suddenly, on the accession of George the First, became a still more zealous patron of the interests of the House of Hanover.
When Gaby possession had got of the Hall,
He took a survey of the Chapel and all,
Since that, like the rest, was just ready to fall,
Which nobody can deny.
And first he began to examine the chest,
Where he found an old Cushion which gave him distaste;
The first of the kind that e’er troubled his rest,
Which nobody can deny.
Two letters of Gold on this Cushion were rear’d;
Two letters of gold once by Gaby rever’d,
But now what was loyalty, treason appear’d:
Which nobody can deny.
“J. R. (quoth the Don, in soliloquy bass)
“See the works of this damnable Jacobite race!
“We’ll out with the J, and put G in its place:”
Which nobody can deny.
And now to erase these letters so rich,
For scissors and bodkin his fingers did itch,
For Converts in politics go thorough-stich:
Which nobody can deny:
The thing was about as soon done as said,
Poor J was deposed and G reigned in his stead;
Such a quick revolution sure never was read!
Which nobody can deny.
Then hey for preferment—but how did he stare,
When convinced and ashamed of not being aware,
That J stood for Jennet,11 for Raymond the R,
Which nobody can deny.
Then beware, all ye priests, from hence I advise,
How ye choose Christian names for the babes ye baptize,
For if Gaby don’t like ’em he’ll pick out their I’s,
Which nobody can deny.
Terræ Filius relates the following instance of
Notes
11 The benefactor who gave the college the Cushion.