The following portrait of my friend is from the pen of our elegant con, Horace Eglantine.

A PORTRAIT.

A heart fill'd with friendship and love, A brain free from pa.s.sion's excess, A mind a mean action above, A hand to relieve keen distress.

Poverty smiled on his birth, And gave what all riches exceeds, Wit, honesty, wisdom, and worth; A soul to effect n.o.ble needs.

Legitimates bow at his shrine; Unfetter'd he sprung into life; When vigour with love doth combine To free nature from priestcraft and strife.

No ancient escutcheon he claim'd, Crimson'd with rapine and blood; He t.i.tles and baubles disdain'd, Yet his pedigree traced from the flood.

Enn.o.bled by all that is bright In the wreath of terrestrial fame, Genius her pure ray of light Spreads a halo to circle his name.

The main-spring of all his actions was a social disposition, which embraced a most comprehensive view ~28~~ of the duties of good fellowship. He was equally popular with all parties, by never declaring for any particular one: with the cricketers he was accounted a hard swipe{3} an active field{4} and a stout bowler;{5} in a water party he was a stroke{6} of the ten oar; at foot-ball, in the playing fields, or a leap across Chalvey ditch, he was not thought small beer{7} of; and he has been known to have bagged three sparrows after a toodle{8} of three miles. His equals loved him for his social qualities, and courted his acquaintance as the _sine qua non_ of society; and the younger members of the school looked up to him for protection and a.s.sistance. If power was abused by the upper boys, Bernard was appealed to as the mediator between the f.a.g{9} and his master. His grants of liberties{10} to the commonalty were indiscriminate and profuse, while his influence was always exerted to obtain the same privileges for his numerous proteges from the more close aristocrats.{11} He was always to be seen attended by a shoal of dependents of every form in the school, some to get their lessons construed, and others to further claims to their respective stations in

3 A good bat-man.

4 To run well, or keep a good look out.

5 Strong and expert.

6 A first rate waterman.

7 Not thought meanly of. Sometimes this phrase is used in derision, as, he does not think small beer of himself.

8 A walk.

9 Any sixth or fifth form boy can f.a.g an Oppidan underling: the collegers are exempted from this custom.

10 The liberties, or college bounds, are marked by stones placed in different situations; grants of liberties are licences given by the head boys to the juniors to break bounds, or rather to except them from the disagreeable necessity of shirking, (i. e.) hiding from fear of being reported to the masters.

11 To that interesting original miscellany, the 'Etonian,' I am indebted for several valuable hints relative to early scenes. The characters are all drawn from observation, with here and there a slight deviation, or heightening touch, the rather to disguise and free them from aught of personal offence, than any intentional departure from truth and nature.

~29~~ the next cricket match or water expedition. The duck and green pea suppers at Surley Hall would have lost half their relish without the enlivening smiles and smart repartees of Bernard Blackmantle. The preparations for the glorious fourth of June were always submitted to his superior skill and direction. His fiat could decide the claims of the rival boats, in their choice of jackets, hats, and favors; and the judicious arrangement of the fire-works was another proof of his taste.

Let it not, however, be thought that his other avocations so entirely monopolized him as to preclude a due attention to study. Had it been so, his success with the [Greek phrase] would never have been so complete: his desire to be able to confer obligations on his schoolfellows induced Bernard to husband carefully every hour which he spent at home; a decent scholarship, and much general knowledge, was the reward of this plan.

The treasure-house of his memory was well stored, and his reputation as an orator gave promise of future excellence. His cla.s.sical attainments, if not florid, were liberal, and free from pedantry. His proficiency in English literature was universally acknowledged, and his love of the poets amounted to enthusiasm. He was formed for all the bustle of variegated life, and his conversation was crystallized with the sparkling attractions of wit and humour. Subject to the weakness to which genius is ever liable, he was both eccentric and wayward, but he had the good sense to guard his failing from general observation; and although he often shot his arrows anonymously, he never dipt them in the gall of prejudice or ill-nature. I have dwelt upon his character with pleasure, because there are very few who know him intimately. With a happy versatility of talents, he is neither lonesome in his solitude, nor over joyous in a crowd. For his literary attainments, they must be judged of by their fruits. I cannot better conclude my attempt ~30~~ to describe his qualifications than by offering his first essay to your notice, a school-boy tribute to friendship.

TRUE FRIENDSHIP.

'Infido scurrae distabit amicus.'

Horace.

How very seldom do we find A relish in the human mind For friendship pure and real; How few its approbation seek, How oft we count its censures weak, Disguising what we feel.

Adulation lives to please, Truth dies the victim of disease, Forgotten by the world: The flattery of the fool delights The wise, rebuke our pride affrights, And virtue's banner's furl'd.

Wherefore do we censure fate, When she withholds the perfect state Of friendship from our grasp, If we ourselves have not the power, The mind to enjoy the blessed hour, The fleeting treasure clasp?

This (I have reason to believe his first poetical essay) was presented me on my birthday, when we had been about two years together at Eton: a short time afterwards I surprised him one morning writing in his bedroom; my curiosity was not a little excited by the celerity with which I observed he endeavoured to conceal his papers. "I must see what you are about, Bernard," said I. "Treason, Horatio," replied the young author. "Would you wish to be implicated, or become a confederate? If so, take the oath of secrecy, and read." Judge of my surprise, when, on casting my eye over his lucubrations, I perceived he had been sketching the portraits of the group, with ~31~~ whom we were in daily a.s.sociation at our dame's. As I perceive by a glance at his work that most of his early friends have parts a.s.signed them in his colloquial scenes, I consider the preservation of this trifle important, as it will furnish a key to the characters.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page032]

~32~~

ETON SKETCHES OF CHARACTER.

'----I'll paint for grown up people's knowledge, The manners, customs, and affairs of college.'

PORTRAITS IN MY DAME'S DINING-ROOM.

At the head of the large table on the right hand you will perceive the Honourable Lilyman Lionise, the second son of a n.o.bleman, whose ancient patrimony has been nearly dissipated between his evening parties at the club-houses, in French hazard, or Rouge et noir, and his morning speculations with his betting book at Tattersall's, Newmarket, or the Fives-court; whose industry in getting into debt is only exceeded by his indifference about getting out; whose acquired property (during his minority) and personals have long since been knocked down by the hammer of the auctioneer, under direction of the sheriff, to pay off some gambling bond in preference to his honest creditor; yet who still flourishes a fashionable gem of the first water, and condescends to lend the l.u.s.tre of ~33~~ his name, when he has nothing else to lend, that he may secure the advantage of a real loan in return. His patrimonial acres and heirlooms remain indeed untouched, because the court of chancery have deemed it necessary to appoint a receiver to secure their faithful transmission to the next heir.

The son has imbibed a smattering of all the bad qualities of his sire, without possessing one ray of the brilliant qualifications for which he is distinguished. Proud without property, and sarcastic without being witty, ill temper he mistakes for superior carriage, and haughtiness for dignity: his study is his toilet, and his mind, like his face, is a vacuity neither sensible, intelligent, nor agreeable. He has few a.s.sociates, for few will accept him for a companion. With his superiors in rank, his precedent honorary distinction yields him no consideration; with his equals, it places him upon too familiar a footing; while with his inferiors, it renders him tyrannical and unbearable. His mornings, between school hours, are spent in frequent change of dress, and his afternoons in a lounge a la Bond-street, annoying the modest females and tradesmen's daughters of Eton; his evenings (after absence{1} is called) at home, in solitary dissipation over his box of liqueurs, or in making others uncomfortable by his rudeness and overbearing dictation. He is disliked by the dame, detested by the servants, and shunned by his schoolfellows, and yet he is our captain, a _s.e.xtile, a Roue_, and above all, an honourable.

Tom Echo. A little to the left of the Exquisite, you may perceive Tom's merry countenance shedding good-humour around him. He is the only one who can

1 _Absence_ is called several times in the course of the day, to prevent the boys straying away to any great distance from the college, and at night to secure them in quarters at the dames' houses: if a boy neglects to answer to his name, or is too late for the call, inquiry is immediately made at his dame's, and a very satisfactory apology must be offered to prevent punishment.

manage the _s.e.xtile_ with effect: Tom is always ready with a tart reply to his sarcasm, or a _cut_ at his consequence. Tom is the eldest son of one of the most respectable whig families in the kingdom, whose ancestors have frequently refused a peerage, from an inherent democratical but const.i.tutional jealousy of the crown. Independence and Tom were nursery friends, and his generous, n.o.ble-hearted conduct renders him an universal favorite with the school. Then, after holidays, Tom always returns with such a rich collection of fox-hunting stories and sporting anecdotes, and gives sock{2} so graciously, that he is the very life of dame ------'s party. There is to be sure one drawback to Tom's good qualities, but it is the natural attendant upon a high flow of animal spirits: if any mischief is on foot, Tom is certain to be concerned, and ten to one but he is the chief contriver: to be seen in his company, either a short time previous to, or quickly afterwards, although perfectly innocent, is sure to create a suspicion of guilt with the masters, which not unusually involves his companions in trouble, and sometimes in unmerited punishment. Tom's philosophy is to live well, study little, drink hard, and laugh immoderately. He is not deficient in sense, but he wants application and excitement: he has been taught from infancy to feel himself perfectly independent of the world, and at home every where: nature has implanted in his bosom the characteristic benevolence of his ancestry, and he stands among us a being whom every one loves and admires, without any very distinguishing trait of learning, wit, or superior qualification, to command the respect he excites. If any one tells a good story or makes a laughable pun, Tom retails it for a week, and all the school have the advantage of hearing and enjoying it. Any proposition for a boat party, cricketing, or a toodle into Windsor, or along the banks of the Thames

2 Good cheer; any nicety, as pastry, &c.

~35~~ on a sporting excursion, is sure to meet a willing response from him. He is second to none in a charitable subscription for a poor _Cad_, or the widow of a drowned _Bargee_; his heart ever reverberates the echo of pleasure, and his tongue only falters to the echo of deceit.

Horace Eglantine is placed just opposite to Lily man Lionise, a calm-looking head, with blue eyes and brown hair, which flows in ringlets of curls over his shoulders. Horace is the son of a city banker, by the second daughter of an English earl, a young gentleman of considerable expectations, and very amusing qualifications. Horace is a strange composition of all the good-natured whimsicalities of human nature, happily blended together without any very conspicuous counteracting foible. Facetious, lively, and poetical, the cream of every thing that is agreeable, society cannot be dull if Horace lends his presence. His imitations of Anacreon, and the soft bard of Erin, have on many occasions puzzled the cognoscenti of Eton. Like Moore too, he both composes and performs his own songs. The following little specimen of his powers will record one of those pleasant impositions with which he sometimes enlivens a winter's evening:

TO ELIZA.

Oh think not the smile and the glow of delight, With youth's rosy hue, shall for ever be seen:

Frosty age will o'ercloud, with his mantle of night, The brightest and fairest of nature's gay scene.

Or think while you trip, like some aerial sprite, To pleasure's soft notes on the dew-spangled mead,

That the rose of thy cheek, or thine eyes' starry light, Shall sink into earth, and thy spirit be freed.

Then round the gay circle we'll frolic awhile, And the light of young love shall the fleet hour bless

While the pure rays of friendship our eve-tide beguile, Above fortune's frowns and the chills of distress

~36~~ The most provoking punster and poet that ever turned the serious and sentimental into broad humour. Every quaint remark affords a pun or an epigram, and every serious sentence gives birth to some merry couplet.

Such is the facility with which he strings together puns and rhyme, that in the course of half an hour he has been known to wager, and win it--that he made a couplet and a pun on every one present, to the number of fifty. Nothing annoys the exquisite _s.e.xtile_ so much as this tormenting talent of Horace; he is always shirking him, and yet continually falling in his way. For some time, while Horace was in the fourth form, these little _jeu-d'esprits_ were circulated privately, and smuggled up in half suppressed laughs; but being now high on the fifth, Horace is no longer in fear of _f.a.gging_, and therefore gives free license to his tongue in many a witty jest, which "sets the table in a roar."

d.i.c.k Gradus. In a snug corner, at a side table, observe that shrewd-looking little fellow poring over his book; his features seem represented by acute angles, and his head, which appears too heavy for his body, represents all the thoughtfulness of age, like an ancient fragment of Phidias or Praxiteles placed upon new shoulders by some modern bust carver. d.i.c.k is the son of an eminent solicitor in a borough town, who has raised himself into wealth and consequence by a strict attention to the principles of interest: sharp practice, heavy mortgages, loans on annuity, and post obits, have strengthened his list of possessions till his influence is extended over half the county. The proprietor of the borough, a good humoured sporting extravagant, has been compelled to yield his influence in St. Stephen's to old Gradus, that he may preserve his character at Newmarket, and continue his pack and fox-hunting festivities at home. The representation of the place is now disposed of to the best bidder, but the ambition of the father has long since determined upon sending his son (when of age) ~37~~ into parliament--a promising candidate for the "loaves and fishes."

Richard Gradus, M.P.--you may almost perceive the senatorial honor stamped upon the brow of the young aspirant; he has been early initiated into the value of time and money; his lessons of thrift have been practically ill.u.s.trated by watching the operations of the law in his father's office; his application to learning is not the result of an innate love of literature, or the ambition of excelling his compeers, but a cold, stiff, and formal desire to collect together materials for the storehouse of his memory, that will enable him to pursue his interested views and future operations on society with every prospect of success. Genius has no partic.i.p.ation in his studies: his knowledge of Greek and Latin is grammatical and pedantic; he reads Livy, Tacitus, Sall.u.s.t, Caesar, Xenophon, Thucydides, in their original language; boasts of his learning with a haughty mien and scornful look of self-importance, and thinks this school-boy exercise of memory, this mechanism of the mind, is to determine the line between genius and stupidity; and has never taken into consideration that the mere linguist, dest.i.tute of native powers, with his absurd parade of scholastic knowledge, is a solitary barren plant, when opposed to the higher occupations of the mind, to the flights of fancy, the daring combinations of genius, and the sublime pictures of imagination. d.i.c.k is an isolated being, a book-worm, who never embarks in any party of pleasure, from the fear of expense; he has no talents for general conversation, while his ridiculous affectation of learning subjects him to a constant and annoying fire from the batteries of Etonian wit.

Still, however, d.i.c.k perseveres in his course, till his blanched cheeks and cadaverous aspect, from close study and want of proper exercise, proclaim the loss of health, and the probable establishment of some pulmonary affection that may, before he scarcely reaches maturity, blight the ambitious hopes of his father, and consign ~38~~ the son "to that bourne from whence no traveller returns."

Horatio Heartly. At the lower end of the room, observe a serene-looking head displaying all the quiet character of a youthful portrait by the divine Raphael, joined to the inspiring sensibility which flashes from the almost breathing countenance and penetrating brilliancy of eye, that distinguishes a Guido. That is my bosom friend, my more than brother, my mentor and my guide. Horatio is an orphan, the son of a general officer, whose crimsoned stream of life was dried up by an eastern sun, while he was yet a lisping infant. His mother, lovely, young, and rich in conjugal attachment, fell a blighted corse in early widowhood, and left Horatio, an unprotected bud of virtuous love, to the fostering care of Lady Mary Oldstyle, a widowed sister of the general's, not less rich in worldly wealth than in true benevolence of heart, and the celestial glow of pure affection. Heartly is a happy combination of all the good-humoured particles of human nature blended together, with sense, feeling, and judgment. Learned without affectation, and liberal without being profuse, he has found out the secret of attaching all the school to himself, without exciting any sensation of envy, or supplanting prior friendships. Horatio is among the alumni of Eton the king of good fellows: there is not a boy in the school, colleger, or oppidan, but what would fight a long hour to defend him from insult; no--nor a sparkling eye among the enchanting daughters of old _Etona_ that does not twinkle with pleasure at the elegant congee, and amiable attentions, which he always pays at the shrine of female accomplishment. Generous to a fault, his purse--which the bounty of his aunt keeps well supplied--is a public bank, _pro bono publico_. His parties to _sock_ are always distinguished by an excellent selection, good taste, and superior style. In all the varied school sports and pastimes, his manly form and vigorous const.i.tution gain him a superior ~39~~ station among his compeers, which his cheerful disposition enables him to turn to general advantage. Nor is he in less estimation with the masters, who are loud in their praises of his a.s.siduity and proficiency in school pursuits. Horatio is not exactly a genius: there is nothing of that wild eccentricity of thought and action which betokens the vivid flights of imagination, or the meteoric brightness of inspiration; his actions are distinguished by coolness, intrepidity, and good sense. He does not pretend to second sight, or a knowledge of futurity; but on the present and the past there are few who can reason with more cogency of remark, or with more cla.s.sic elegance of diction: with such a concentration of qualities, it is not wonderful that his influence extends through every gradation of the juvenile band. His particular attachments are not numerous; but those who have experienced the sincerity of his private friendship must always remain his debtor--from deficiency of expression; among the most obliged of whom is--the author.