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EGISTRUM REGALE,
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I. THE PROVOSTS OF ETON.
Il. THE PROVOSTS OF KING’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
Ill. THE FELLOWS OF ETON.
IV. ‘ALUMNI ETONENSES,’ IN ANNUAL SUCCESSION FROM
ETON TO KING’S COLLEGE:
FROM THE FOUNDATION OF ETON COLLEGE IN THE YEAR 1441, To 1847:
WITH
ILLUSTRATIVE AND, BLOGRAPHICAL NOTICES,
DRAWN UP FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES, AND PUBLISHED UNDER THE
SANCTION OF THE AUTHORITIES OF THE COLLEGE.
BRON:
EDWARD POTE WILLIAMS,
PRINTER AND PUBLISHER.
MDCCCXLVII.
TO
THE REV. THE PROVOST AND FELLOWS OF ETON COLLEGE,
AND
THE HEAD AND LOWER MASTERS OF THE SCHOOL,
THIS NEW EDITION OF
‘“Ohe Megistrum Megale ”
IS
VERY RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,
BY
THEIR TRULY OBLIGED AND OBEDIENT SERVANT,
THE PUBLISHER.
ADVERTISEMENT.
Tue “ Reeistrum Recate” was first published by the late Mr. Pote, in
1774, and has been since continued at intervals. The last Edition having
been exhausted, it has been determined to publish a new one, with considerable
additions and improvements, which it is hoped may meet with the approbation
of those who take an interest in the Work. A more full and complete account
of all those who have succeeded from Eton to King’s might have been com-
piled; but this, together with one of the Provosts of the two Colleges and
the Fellows of Eton, would have swelled the book to a size and cost which
has not appeared to be advisable or necessary.
The Publisher is indebted to one of the Fellows of Eton for the whole
of the valuable data; who, besides the archives of the College, has, by the
kindness of the Provost, had access to a very curious MS. history, compiled
by the late Provost, Dr. Goodall, and by him bequeathed to his successors.
The whole may therefore be relied upon as accurate.
Eton,
Election Saturday, July 24, 1847.
0 he
ae H |
ie
Hag i
mY ri
Ap
ing
PROVOSTS OF ETON.
Year of
Reign.
HEN. VI.
1441.
*Henry Sever,* D.D. 19.
1442.
> William Waynflete, D.D.
Dee 21 Qi
1447,
‘John Clerc, B.D. July3. 25.
dWilliam Westbury,B. D.
Nov. 1447.
EDW. IV.
1477.
¢Henry Bost, B.D. Mar.
dl.
HEN. VII.
1503.
fRoger Lupton, LL. D.
Feb. 17.
26.
16.
17.
HEN. VIII.
1535.
€ Robert Aldrich [or Ald-
ridge| D.D. Mar.7. 27.
* The first Provost of Eton. He was the 14th Warden
of Merton College, Oxford, and of the kindred of the
Founder (Walter de Merton) ; Chaplain and Almoner to
the King Henry V.; Dean of Westminster. He died J uly
6th, 1471, and is buried in the Chapel of Merton College.
A great benefactor to Merton College, having added much
to its buildings and revenues, being considered “ quasi
alter Fundator.’’ Chancellor of the University in 1443.
» Was brought by Henry VI. from Winchester (as were
35 Scholars and 5 Fellows,) to be the first Head Master of
Kton, who soon after made him Provost. Bishop of Win-
chester in 1447, and held that See 39 years. Lord High
Chancellor of England from Oct. 11, 1449, to July 7, 1458.
Founded Magdalen College, Oxford. Died August 11, 1486.
© Was one of the five Fellows brought by Henry VI.
from Winchester. Vice Provost in 1443. Died Nov. its
1447.
4 Head Master from 1443 to 1447.
Died March 11, 1477.
Buried in Eton Chapel.
© Fellow of Eton, March 27, 1447. 11th Provost of
Queen’s College, Oxford, 1483; resigned it 1487. Died
Feb. 7, 1503. Buried in the Chapel.
f Fellow of Eton, Feb. 16, 1503, the day before he was
elected Provost. Canon of Windsor, 1504. Resigned the
Provostship in March, 1535. Died in 1540. Buried in
Lupton’s Chapel, which he built. He also built the
Great Tower and Gateway leading to the Cloisters.
& Scholar of King’s, 1507. Archdeacon of Colchester.
In 1534, Canon of Windsor. In 1537, Bishop of Carlisle.
Resigned the Provostship, Dec. 29, 1547. Died in 1555.
Head Master from 1515 to 1520.
* Fasti Eccles. Anglic.) says, ‘‘ John Stanbury was nominated, at least designed, by
ne fatounient. be the first Branast of Eron, but doubts if he ever took possession.” —Stanbury
was high in the favour of King Henry, on
account of his great Learning and Abilities, and was
him in the foundation and ordering of his new erected College at Eron.t Whatever
: ent at geet fe intended by the Founder, Stanbury does not appear to have been Provost ; for
Seng is named Provost in the Charter of October 11, and in the Act of Parliament cf Eron
Foundation.
it eum (J. Stanbury) HEN. VI. ab Oxon. ut noviter fundato Etonensi Collegio pre-
Deeper, eee res omnes disponeret ordine. _— de Presulibus, ad loc.
B
2 PROVOSTS OF ETON.
Year of 4
Reign.
EDW. VI.
1547.
hSir Thomas Smith, Ant.
LL.D. Dec. 29.
MARY.
1554.
1Henry Cole, D.D. July
13.
ELIZABETH.
1559.
KWilham Bill, D. D. July
5.
bob):
'Richard Bruarne, B. D.
July 25.
mWilliam Day, D.D. Dee.
18.
1596.
nSir Henry Savile, May
26.
JAM. I.
1621.
“Thomas Murray, Fed.
23.
1624.
PSir Henry Wotton, July
24,
O7.
Wa
22.
Ie
2.
Ik
3.
dy
|
h A Layman, (by Dispensation,) ofQueen’s College, Cam-
bridge: a learned writer, and author of several valuable
works. In 1536, University Orator. In 1452, Professor
of Civil Law. Master of Requests to the Protector Duke
of Somerset. Steward of the Stannaries. In 1548, ap-
pointed Secretary of State, and Knighted. He was sent
on four several embassies to France. Again Secretary of
State in 1572. Dean of Carlisle for 20 years, though a
Deacon only. Was chiefly instrumental in framing the
Act of Parliament which directs that in College leases
at least a third part should be reserved and paid in Corn.
He resigned, or rather was deprived of the Provostship,
July 12, 1554, and died August 12, 1577.
‘Fellow of New College, Oxford, in 1523. Warden of
New College, Oct. 4, 1542, which he quitted in 1551.
Having advocated the Reformation, he became in Queen
Mary’s reign a rigid Romanist, and was appointed by her
to preach, before the execution of Cranmer, in St. Mary’s
Church at Oxford. Dean of St. Paul’s, in 1556. Vicar-
General under Cardinal Pole, in 1557. Soon after the ac-
cession of Elizabeth he was deprived of his Deanery, fined
500 marks, and imprisoned. Whether he was formally
deprived of the Provostship, or withdrew silently, does
not appear. He died in the Fleet in 1561.
k Master of St. John’s, Cambridge, in 1549. Master of
Trinity, in 1552, but deprived by Queen Mary. Chief
Almoner to Queen Elizabeth, who restored him to the
Mastership of Trinity. Dean of Westminster in 1560. He
died July 16, 1561. Buried in Westminster Abbey.
' Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford. Professor of
Hebrew in Oxford. Fellow of Eton, in 1544. Canon of
Christ Church, and of Windsor. Allen says, he was
ejected soon afterwards, and that he died at Windsor, in
April 1565. Buried in St. George’s Chapel.
m Admitted into King’s College from Eton, 1545. Fel-
low of Eton, in 1560. Canon of Windsor, in 1564. Dean
of Windsor, in 1572. Bishop of Winchester, in 1595.
Died Sept. 20, 1596.
n Entered at Merton College in 1561.
Warden in 1585. He was Tutor in Greek to Queen
Elizabeth. Knighted at Windsor in 1604. He founded
and endowed Professorships in Geometry and Astronomy
in the University of Oxford. His celebrated Edition of
St. Chrysostom was printed at Eton. He was one of the
learned men in the reign of James Ist, employed in trans-
lating the Bible; his name appears among those to
whom the Four Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles, and the
Apocalypse were allotted. He translated the four first
Books of Tacitus, and the Life of Agricola. He was an
ornament to his age, a patron of learned men, a polished
gentleman, virtuous and pious. Died Feb. 19, 1621.
Buried in Eton Chapel.
Fellow in 1570.
° A Layman, of the ancient family of the Earls of
Tullibardine. Tutor and Secretary to Prince Charles
afterwards Charles Ist. Master of Sherburn Hospital,
near Durham, in 1606, notwithstanding his being a Lay-
man. He died April 9, 1623, a few days after having
suffered an operation for the Stone, xt.59. Buried in
Eton Chapel.
P Kducated at Winchester School, and New College ;
he removed from thence to Queen’s. Secretary to the
Karl of Essex. In 1615, Ambassador to the United Pro-
vinces. Three times Ambassador to the Republic of
Venice. Employed also on several other Embassies. He
took Deacon’s Orders, previous to his appointment to
the Provostship. Author of several works. He died Dec
1639, et. 72. Buried in Eton Chapel. ‘
PROVOSTS
Year of ,
Reign,
CHAR. Il.
1639.
4 Richard Steward, D.C.L.
Dec. 28.
1643.
rHrancis Rous, B.A.
CHAR.
1658.
SNicholas Lockyer, M.A.
Jan. 14.
1660.
"Nicholas Monk, D.D. 1
1668.
VJohn Meredith, D. D.
March 3.
1665.
Ww Richard Allestree, D.D.
Aug. 8.
1680.
xZachary Cradock, D.D.
Feb. 24.
WILL. III.
1695.
¥Y Henry Godolphin, D.D.
Oct. 23.
GEO: ail!
1732.
z Henry Bland, D. D. Feo.
10.
14.
18.
10.
9)
two
14.
18.
Oo.
he
D.
OF ETON.
4 Commoner of Magdalen Hall, in 1608. Fellow of All
Souls, in 1613. Prebendary of Worcester Cathedral, in
1628. Dean of Chichester, in 1634. Clerk of the Closet,
and Prebendary of Westminster, in 1638. Dean of St.
Paul’s, 1641, and of the Chapel Royal. Afterwards Dean
of Lincoln, and Prolocutor of the Lower House of Convo-
cation. He was a Commissioner for Ecclesiastical matters
at the treaty of Uxbridge in January 1644. He was de-
prived of all his Preferinents by the Parliament, and re-
tired to Paris, where Charles IInd. visited him, after his
Ecole from the battle of Worcester. He died there Nov.
, 1651.
* A Commoner of Broadgate Hall (now Pembroke Col-
lege), Oxford, in 1591. Member for Truro for 30 years.
Speaker of the Barebones Parliament. Made Provost of
Kton by the usurped authority of both Houses of Parlia-
ment. He is said to have behaved liberally to his ejected
Predecessor, and several others. He sat in Cromwell’s
House of Lords; and was most unreasonably called the
** Illiterate Jew of Eton.”? He left three Scholarships,
now worth about £30. per annum, to be supplied from
Superannuated Eton Scholars, should none of his own
kin apply within 50 days. He died Jan. 7, 1658. Buried
in Lupton’s Chapel.
*Of New Inn Hall, Oxford. Fellow of Eton, Jan. 21,
1649. Elected Provost, Jan. 14, 1658; of which he was
deprived soon after the Restoration. He had been Chap-
lain to Oliver Cromwell, and often preached before the
Parliament. He died in 1684.
‘Of Wadham College, Oxford. Brother of the cele-
brated General Monk, afterwards Duke of Albemarle.
Rector of Plymtree, Devon, and of Kilkhampton, Corn-
wall. Bishop of Hereford, Dec. 1660, which had been
void for 14 years. Died Dec. 11, 1661. Buried in West-
minster Abbey.
v Of All Souls College, Oxford, and Fellow there. Fellow
of Eton, April 22, 1642. Rector of Stamford Rivers, Co.
of Essex. Master of Wigston’s Hospital at Leicester.
After the Restoration, he was elected Warden of All Souls.
Died July 16, 1665. Buried in All Souls CoHege Chapel.
w Student of Christ Church, Oxford. He was for some
time in arms for Charles [st, and present at the battle of
Edge Hill, Oct. 23, 1642. Soon after the Restoration he
was appointed Canon of Christ Church, Chaplain in
Ordinary to the King, and Regius Professor of Divinity.
Died Jan. 16, 1680. Buried in Eton Chapel.
x Of Queen’s College, Cambridge. Chaplain in Ordinary
to the King. Canon Residentiary of Chichester in 1669.
Fellow of Eton, Dec. 2, 1671. Died Oct. 1695. Buried in
Eton College Chapel. ‘
y Fellow of All Soul’s College, Oxford. Fellow of Eton,
April 14, 1677. . Canon Residentiary of St. Paul’s. Dean
of St. Panl’s in 1707. He was uncle to the Earl of.
Godolphin: a considerable benefactor to Eton College.
Died Jan. 29, 1732. Buried in Eton Chapel.
z Admitted into King’s College from Eton, in 1695.
Chaplain to King George Ist, and to Chelsea Hospital.
Head Master of Eton from 1720 to 1728. Canon of Windsor
in 1723. Dean of Durham in 1727. Died May 24, 1746.
Buried in Eton Chapel.
B2
Year of |
Reign.
GEO. Ti.
1746.
«Stephen Sleech, D. D.
June A.
GEO. Ill.
1765.
bEdward Barnard, D.D.
Oct. 295.
}
6.
1781.
¢ William Hayward Roberts,
D.D. Dee. 12. 22.
OMe
d Jonathan Davies, D.D.
Dec. 14. O2.
1809.
¢ Joseph Goodall, D. D.
Dee. 21. 50.
VICTORIA.
1840.
fFrancis Hodgson, B. D.
3.
May. 5.
PROVOSTS OF ETON.
2 Admitted into King’s College from Eton, in 1723.
Fellow of Eton, March 17,1729 Chaplain to the King.
Rector of Farnham Royal; then of Worplesdon. Died
Oct. 8, 1765.
b Fellow of St. John’s College, Cambridge. Head Mas-
ter of Eton in 1756. Rector of Footscray and Ospring,
Kent, 1756. Canon of Windsor in 1760, and Chaplain to
the King. Died in 1781.
¢ Admitted into King’s College, 1752. Assistant Master .
of Eton, 1757. Members’ Prize at Cambridge in 1758.
Fellow of Eton, Feb. 19, 1771. Chaplain to the King.
Rector of Farnham Royal. Died Dec. 1791, et. 58.
Buried at Eton.
4 Admitted into King’s, 1755. Assistant at Eton ; and
Head Master in 1773. Canon of Windsor in 1781; re-
signed when Provost, in 1791. Founder of an University
Scholarship in Cambridge, and two Exhibitions, one for
a Scholar of King’s, the other for a Superannuated Eton
Scholar: also Task and Declamation Prizes. Died Dec.
1809. Buried at Eton.
¢ Admitted into King’s in 1778. Assistant of Eton in
1783. Head Master in 1801. Canon of Windsor, 1808.
Rector of East Ilsley, Berks, and Hitcham, Bucks.
Founded an Exhibition, value £60. per annum, for a
Superannuated Eton Scholar. Died March 25, 1840.
f Admitted at King’s in 1799. Assistant Master in 1807,
resigned the same year. Formerly Archdeacon of Derby,
vicar of Bakewell, and of Edensor. Rector of Cottisford.
PROVOSTS OF KING’S COLLEGE,
CAMBRIDGE.
Year of
Reign.
HEN. VI.
1443.
4Wilham Millington,D.D.
April 10. 21.
1446.
5John Chedworth, D.D.
Nov. 5. 20.
1452.
¢ Robert Woodlarke, D. D.
May 17.
EDW. IV.
1479.
d Walter Field, D.D. Oct.
15.
ol.
Sh
HEN. VII.
1499.
€John Dogget, D.C. L.
April 18.
1501.
fJohn Argentine, D.D.
and M.D. May 4.
14,
16.
1507.
€ Richard Hatton, LL. D.
Mar. 21. Oe.
* Master of Clare Hall; appointed by the Founder to
be the first Provost. In three years he was remanded to
Clare Hall, for unduly favouring natives of Yorkshire.
He died in 1466.
> He was joined by Henry VI. with Waynflete, Bishop
of Winton, to regulate the Statutes of King’s and Eton.
Bishop of Lincoln in 1452, and died in 1471. Buried in
Lincoln Cathedral.
¢ The last Provost appointed by the Founder. He was
twice Chancellor of the University, in 1459, and 1462.
Founder of Catherine Hall in 1475.
¢ Admitted from Eton into King’s in 1445.
¢ Admitted from Eton into King’s in1451. Archdeacon
of Chester. Chancellor of the Diocese of Sarum.
f Admitted from Eton to King’s in 1457. Doctor of
Physic and Divinity.
& Admitted from Eton to King’s in 1470. Chaplain to
Henry VII.
Year of
Reign.
HEN, VIII.
1509.
h Robert Hacombleyn,D.D.
June 28. 1.
1528.
‘Edward Fox, Sept.27. 20.
1538.
KGeorge Day, June 5. 30.
EDW. VI. *
1548.
‘Sir John Cheke, April 1. 1.
MARY.
1553.
m Richard Atkinson, D.D.
Oct. 25. le
1556.
» Robert Brassie, D.D.
Oct. 3. 4,
1558.
°Philp Baker, D.D.
Dee. 12. 6.
ELIZABETH.
1569.
P Roger Goad, D.D.
Mar. 19.
JAM. I.
1610.
qFog Newton, D.D.
May 15. 8.
15.
1612.
rWilham Smith, D.D.
Aug. 22. 10.
PROVOSTS OF KING’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
h From Eton in 1472. Vicar of Prescot, Lancashire.
iFrom Eton in 1512. An eminent Statesman and
Divine. In 1528 sent with Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester,
Ambassador to Rome, in regard to Bulls for Henry the
VIlith’s divorce from Catharine of Arragon. Employed
afterwards in France and Germany. In 1527 Prebendary
of York. In 1535 Bishop of Hereford. A staunch friend
of the Reformation. Died May 8, 1538.
k Master of St. John’s College, Cambridge, in 1537.
Provost of King’s 1538, deprived in 1548. Bishop of
Chichester in 1543, deprived in 1551, restored in 1553.
ee August 2, 1556. Brother of William Day, Provost
of Eton.
! Of St. John’s College, Cambridge. Professor of Greek,
and University Orator. Tutor to Prince Edward, after-
wards Edward VI. Knighted in1551. Secretary of State,
and Privy Councillor, in 1553. Secretary to Lady Jane
Grey and her Council, after King Edward’s death. Upon
Queen Mary’s Accession, he was committed to the Tower,
and deprived; pardoned and set at liberty in 1554. Again
in the Tower, when great endeavours were made to
reconcile him to Rome: on being told he ‘‘ must comply
or burn,”’ he yielded, and submitted to Cardinal Pole, the
Pope’s Legate, and was received into the Church of Rome.
Grief, shame, and remorse shortened his days. He died
Sept. 13, 1557.
m From Eton in 1527. He died of the plague, when on
the College Circuit, to hold Courts, and survey lands.
© From Eton in 1525. Vicar of Prescot, Lancashire.
Vice Chancellor in 1557. Died in 1558. Buried in the
Chapel.
° From Eton in 1540. He received Queen Elizabeth in
1561, when she made King’s College her residence. He
was deprived for Popery, in 1569, and fled beyond sea.
P From Eton in 1555. Master of the Free School at
Guildford. In 1576, Chancellor of the Diocese of Wells.
He left many legacies to his College; among others, the
Rectory of Milton, Cambridgeshire. He died in 1610.
1 From Eton in 1586. Rector of Kingston in Cambridge-
shire, where he died in 1612.
r From Eton mm 1573. Master of Clare Hall, in 1598.
Chaplain to Queen Elizabeth and James Ist. Died March
26, 1615.
PROVOSTS OF KINGS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 7
Year of
Reign.
JAM. I.
1615.
sSamuel Collins, D.D.
April 25.
CHAR. I.
1644.
' Benjamin Whichcot,D.D.
Mar. 19.
CHAR, II.
1660.
Vv James Fleetwood, D.D.
June 29.
1675.
wSir Thomas Page,
Jan. 16.
1681.
xJohn Coplestone, D.D.
Aug. 2A.
WILL. & MARY,
1689.
yCharles Roderick, LL.D.
and D.D. Oct. 13.
ANNE.
1712.
zJohn Adams, D. D.
May 2.
GEO: 1:
use
aAndrew Snape, D.D.
Feb, 21.
GEO. Il.
1742.
bWillhiam George, D.D.
Jan. 30.
1756.
¢ John Sumner, D.D.
Oct. 18.
13.
ND:
15.
le
od,
I.
11.
6.
1d.
Ol.
‘From Eton in 1591. Regius Professor of Divinity.
Prebendary of Ely. Deprived during the Usurpation, but
restored to the Professorship, because it was said, ‘‘ None
of themselves were able to discharge it.”? He was de-
prived of the Provostship in 1644, but a stipend was, by
his successor, continued to him till his death in 1651.
t Fellow and Tutor of Emanuel College in 1633. Rector
of Milton. Deprived of the Provostship in 1660. Pub-
lished Sermons and other Works. He died in 1683.
v From Eton in 1623. Son of Sir George Fleetwood, of
Chalfont St. Giles’, Bucks. Chaplain to several Regiments
during the Civil Wars, and to Charles Prince of Wales,
afterwards Charles IInd. After the Restoration, he was
the first-appointed Chaplain in Ordinary to the King.
Bishop of Worcester in 1675. Died in 1683. Buried in
Worcester Cathedral.
~ From Eton in 1628. Knighted by Charles IInd.
Secretary to the Duke of Ormond, Lord Lieutenant of
Ireland. Died 1681.
x From Eton in 1641. Canon of Exeter in 1660. Died
in 1689.
y From Eton in 1667. Assistant at Eton. Lower Master
in 1676. Head Master in 1680. Rector of Milton. Dean
of Ely in 1708. Died 1712.
7From Eton in 1678. Prebendary of Canterbury.
Chaplain in Ordinary to Queen Anne. Canon of Windsor
in 1708. Died in 1719.
2 From Eton in 1689. Head Master from 1713 to 1720.
Canon of Windsor in 1713. Died in 1743.
b From Eton in 1715. Assistant at Eton; and Head
Master from 1728 to 1743. Chaplain to the King. Dean
of Lincoln in 1748. Died in 1756.
¢ From Eton in 1723. Assistant at Eton, and Lower
Master in 1734. Head Master from 1745 to 1754. Canon
of Windsor in 1750. Died in 1772.
8 PROVOSTS OF KING’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
Year of |
Reign.
GEO. III.
1772.
qdWialli 4 From Eton in 1730. Head Master of Eton from 1743
Wuliam Cooke, D.D. to 1745. Afterwards Dean of Ely. Rector of Denham,
Mar. 25. 12.| Bucks. Vicar of Stourminster-Marshall, Dorsetshire.
Died in 1797.
1797.
¢Humphrey Sumner.D.D. ¢ From Eton in 1762. Son of Dr. Sumner, former
7 Provost. Assistant at Eton.
Nov. 3. Of.
1814.
f ‘From Eton in 1796. Assistant at Eton; and Lower
Georg © Thackeray D. D. Master from 1809 to 1814. Chaplain in Ordinary to the
April 4, DA, Queen.
FELLOWS OF ETON,
INI NI NLL NS NS SA et SP el WD ed Derr hn
4 Johannes Kett 4 He resigned the Rectory of Eton.
Gulielmus Astone [or Has-
ton |
Gulelmus Deane [or Dene]
Gulielmus Protert [or Pro-
fett|*
b John Clere > Vice-Provost, and third Provost of Eton, July 31, 1447.
See List of Provosts.
Thomas Harlowe
Thomas Weston
cWilh ¢ Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. He had a special
Wilham Wey e) B.D. license from Henry VI. ‘‘ to passe over the Sea on pere-
Johu Bouer grinage, as to Rome, to Jerusalem, and to other Holy
Places: And we wol that the yerely pension, with other
Dewes growing unto him during his seid peregrinage
within our said College, be observed oonly and kept to
his propre use unto his said Retournyng,”’ &c.
dWilliam Waynflete D D + 4 Second Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
ey es
John Blakeman [or Black-
man |
John Ernysby
* “ Fellows (these Four) it may be of the first Foundation under Provost SEVER, but appear not
in the number of the present ones.’? Lambeth MS.
The above Remark from the Lambeth MS. makes it matter of doubt if Kett, Aston, Deane, and
Profert, here mentioned, were Fellows of the College. Be it observed on this occasion, that the Six
following, John Clerc, Thomas Harlowe, Thomas Weston, William Weye, John Bouer, with William
Waynfiete, were appointed, by the Founder, Fellows on the Establishment, under Provost SEVER;
and are so named in the Charter of Foundation. Farther, in the Charter dated at Shene, An. Reg.19.
Johannes Kene, Clericus, Willielmus Hastone, and Willielmus Dene, are called Socii Sacerdotes.
These probably were of the first designation or appointment, and allowing a small variation in
their Names, do agree with the first Three above-named, and with William Profert make the
number Ten, agreeable to this new Establishment.
tT On the promotion of Waynflete to the See of Winchester, A. D. 1447, the Fellows of Eton were,
John Clerc, Vice-Provost, John Ernysby
Thomas Weston Robert Hesil
William Wey Richard Skyllyngton
John Bouer Thomas Barker
John Blakeman John Maberthorpe.
Ten in number.—Ex Arch. Colleg.
Clere was elected Provost, 3rd of July,1447, and John Manshull succeeded in his room the August
arowing. jualin
The College afterwards underwent some alteration in the number of the Fellows and other
particulars.
Cc
'
10 FELLOWS OF ETON.
Robert Hesil [or Heysill, or
Hesill]
Richard Skyllyngton
Thomas Barker, D. D.
John Maberthorpe
John Manshul, Aug. 16,
1447.
€Richard Hopton, D.D.
1453
John Gegur, 1453.
Thomas Forster, 14538.
John Morshefeld, Jan. 31,
1453.
Thomas Balshall, Mar. 15,
1453.
William Capell, Dec.6, 1454.
Wilham Streete
Thomas Stephens, Mar. 7,
14.57.
‘Clement Smythe, Fed. 5,
1458.
Thomas Baron, Mar. 18,
1452.
Roger Beteson, Dec. 19,
1459.
€ John Marchall [or Mar-
shall], D.D.
John Moweer
4h John Smythe
iThomas Barker, 1464:
Robert Elhot, Oct. 18, 1464.
KHenry Bost, Mar.27,1477.
John Sutton, July 29,1477.
Wilham Whither, Jan. 25,
1477.
John Peese, Fed. 25, 1478.
Thomas Stevynson, July 12,
1479.
Wilham Bethun, D.D.
July 1, 1482.
William Atwater, July 4,
1482.
John Saunders
mThomas Laney(or Laury |
John Adams, Oct. 10,1484,
e The first Rector of St. Alban’s, Wood Street, London,
on the presentation of Eton College. The College still
has the alternate presentation, with St. Paul’s. Head
Master from 1447 to 1453.
f Afterwards Canon of Windsor.
& Fellow of Merton College, Oxford. Canon of Windsor,
1474. Bishop of Llandaff, 1478.
h Rector of East Wretham, Norfolk.
i“ Khigitur Mr. Barker in Prepositum, March 18, 1477.
Renuit ille. Eligitur Henricus Bost, Socius, March 31.”
(Dr. Goodall. )
k Fifth Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
' First a Demy, then Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford.
Rector of Piddlehinton, County of Dorset. In1499,Canon
of Windsor. In 1502, Dean of the King’s Chapel. In 1506,
Chancellor of Lincoln. In 1509, Dean of Salisbury. In
1514, Archdeacon of Huntingdon, and Bishop of Lincoln.
He was a friend of Cardinal Wolsey, and succeeded him
at Lincoln. Died Feb. 19. 1520, et.81. Buried in Lincoln
Cathedral.
m Thomas Lane, Laney, Laury, 07 Lany—“ Ratio tem-
porum prohibet ut iste pro Socio Etonensi habeatur.
Ille sane Ostiarius Etonensis videtur fuisse.” (Dr.
Goodall.)
FELLOWS OF ETON.
John Peirson, Oct.10,1485.
Thomas Dryffeld, dug.17,
1487.
Roger Sutton, March 25,
1488.
Hugh Fraunce,Jan.21,1489.
John Sparke, Nov. 26,1490.
John Edmonds, Mar. 7,
1491.
Richard Kite, Mar. 28,1495.
Robert Daale [or Dale},
May 10, 1497.
William Weedhooke [or
Wooddack,] Dee. 12,
1497.
John Grove, Nov. 27, 1498.
Willham Cowper, Jan. 8,
14.98.
Richard Martyn, Jan. 30,
1498.
Walter Smythe, dug. 28,
LOM
nWilhiam Horman, April 4,
1502.
Edward Repe, Nov.3, 1503.
°Roger Lupton, Fed. 16,
1503.
Thomas Ryche,Dec.6, 1504.
Richard Arden, Fed. 10,
102.
William Dancaster, Oct.
18, 1507.
Henry Minne, Fed. 3, 1508.
Thomas Payne, May 30,
1509.
John Gregorie, Mar. 21,
ey
PThomas Southron, 1512.
John Balkey, Mar.28, 1515.
Nicholas Smale
Richard Wymysmore, April
Veolia:
aRoger Edgeworth, D. D.
Sept. 22, 1518.
William West, Dec. 20,
baylbrst
John Gulliston [or Gol-
stain], Mar. 7, 1520.
1]
n Fellow of New College, Oxford, in 1477. Head Master
of Eton from 1485 to 1492. He died April 12, 1535. Vice-
Provost. An able Scholar, and Author of many learned
works.
° Sixth Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
P Treasurer of the Cathedral Church of Exeter.
1 Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford, in 1508. Canon of
Salisbury and Bristol; and in 1554 Canon Residentiary
of Wells, and Chancellor of that Church.
c2
12
Wilham Smyth, Sept. 24,
1521.
Thomas Mawndvyld [or
Manseld, or Manfeld],
BaD Decs7, Vo2i
Wilham Wall, Fed. 4, 1524.
Simon Benyson, B.D. Fed.
23, 1524.
Bartholomew Michell, Jan.
1 o2 6:
Richard Warde,July 1, 1528.
Thomas Hunton, July 28,
1529.
Oliver Stonynge, May 30,
1530.
Robert Wellys, B. D. Mar.
26, 1582.
¥Godfry Harman [or Hor-
man], June 4, 1582.
‘Wilham Haynes, B.D.
Jan. 27, 1538.
Conrad Clyterbake, April
13, 1535.
‘Thomas Edgecombe, Dec.
5, 1535.
VY Robert Aldrydge, June 21,
1536.*
John Belfyld, June 23, 1536.
Wilham Wytherton, July 8,
1536.
Wilham Clerke, Oct. 24,
1538.
John Lasche
John Patmore, Mar. 25,
1539.
wW William Goldyng
Oliver Stonyng,
x Richard Bruarne, Jan. 12,
1544.
Miles Atkinson, Aug. 19,
1544.
FELLOWS
OF ETON.
rCanon of Cardinal Wolsey’s College, Oxford, now
Christ Church. Buried in Eton College Chapel.
* Was of Oriel College, Oxford, of which he was Provost
in 1540. Sometime Canon of Osney, and of Christ Church.
t Vice-Provost of Eton; buried in the Chapel, where
was this Inscription—
Saxeus hic tumulus Thome Edgecumb continet ossa ;
Continet ossa lapis, terrea terra tegit.
Hic inter Socios quos hec habet inclyta sedes
Ordine primus erat, Prepositique vice.
Qui cum vivebat vitam peragebat honestam,
Atque ut vita fuit, mors quoque talis erat: _[illam:
Mors bona, vita simul: Deus hanc dat, dat quoque et
Et dabit, ut bonus est, munera utrique sua:
Unde quidem spes est, dum corpus dormit inane,
Quod vigilat melior pars meliore loco.
y Seventh Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
~ Master of Cardinal Wolsey’s School in Ipswich.
* Elected Provost, July 25, 1561, and ejecte s
wards. See List of Prowunee. : d d soon after
FELLOWS OF ETON. 13
Richard Williat, Sept. 3, |
1545,
John Norfolk, Fed. 22,1546.
Henry Reely [or Ryley,]
Aug. 26, 1546.
Augustine Crosse, Mar. 26,
1547,
William Dobson, June 15,
1547,
William Boswell, Nov. 2,
1547.
Thomas Fawnden, 1552.
¥Robert Amis [or Avis],
1553.
2 John Johnson
Henry Pauley, Mar.2, 1554.
Edmund Hargatt, Mar. 2,
1554.
Richard Rysley, Mar.2,1554.
@Nicholas Smith, July 10,
1554.
bArthur Cole, 1554..
¢Henry Cole, July 13,1554.
James Baylie, 1554.
¢John Durston, Dec. 12,
aoe
Hutchinson, 1557.
Edward Chamber, 1557.
«Thomas Kyrton, Fed. 6,
L507.
John Ashbrooke, Dec. 19,
1558.
fCharles Fitzwater, April
14, 1559.
ERichard Pratt, May 8,
1559.
bhWilham Bill, June25,1559.
George Atkinson, Fed. 22,
1560.
Matthew Page, Jan. 31,
1561.
William Smythe, Fed. 10,
1561.
John Mayre, Feb. 10,1561.
‘Thomas Noke, May 20,
1561.
(
y Canon of Windsor.
= One of the married Priests excluded by Queen Mary.
4 Named by the Visitor, ‘‘ ratione devolutionis.’’ (Dy.
Goodall.) Of New College, Oxford, and afterwards Fellow
of Eton.
b De eo Arthur Cole, nec notam nec vestigium reperire
potui. Error forte natus ex Catal. Vindesoriano, ubi
Arthurus Cole, Canon. Vindesor. Socius Etonensis fuisse
perhibetur, ubi “‘Arthurus”’ pre “‘Henricus”’ poni videtur.
(Dr. Goodall.)
¢ Ninth Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
4 Expelled Sept. 1561, but suffered to remain till Sept. 29.
e Expelled Sept. 11, 1561.
f Expelled Sept. 11, 1561.
& Expelled Sept. 11, 1561.
h Tenth Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
i Prebendary of Lincoln,
14,
Kk William Daye
Hugh Gervas, May 8, 1562.
Edward Baret, May 17,1568.
!Alan Parre, July 9, 1568.
John Bungay, June 13,1563.
Thomas Smyth, dug.6, 1563.
™ John Wulward [or Wool-
ward], dug. 16, 1565.
John Barker, Apra/ 12,1566.
John Wells, Jan. 24, 1567.
»Wilham Wickham,J/uly 20,
1568.
Wilham Smith
°Baldwin Collins, A. M.
April 17, 1572.
Matthew Bust, Sept. 15,
awe:
John Reeve, Mar. 26, 1575.
P Mordecai Aldem, A. M.
qJohn Chamber, July 27,
1582.
rWilhiam Day, July 27, 1582.
Alexander Bound, D.D.
July 27, 1582.
SAdam Robyns, A.M. Sept.
10, 15883.
William Whitaker,J/une 30,
1587.
tWilham Harrison, Mar.
3, 1592.
Thomas Key, Jan. 17, 1595.
John Clavering, dug. 29,
1597.
Wilham Clerke, April 3,
oo:
Thomas Allen, Aug. 8,1604.
vRichard Wright, Oct. 31,
1611.
Thomas Weaver, Oct. 16,
1612.
wThomas Savile, April 17,
1613.
x Richard Mountague, April
29, 1613.
FELLOWS OF ETON.
k Eleventh Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
' Chosen Fellow, but refused it: afterwards would fain
have been Fellow, but could not. (Dr. Goodall.)
m Canon of Windsor; died there 1598.
n Admitted into King’s, 1556. Canon of Windsor, and
Dean of Lincoln. He preached at the burial of Mary
Queen of Scots, at Peterborough, August 6, 1587. Bishop
of Lincoln in 1584; translated to Winchester in Jan. 1595;
and died 12th June following.
° Many years Vice-Provost. Father of Samuel Collins,
Provost of King’s, and of David Collins, who succeeded
him in his Fellowship of Eton. Died in 1616.
P Of Christ Church, Oxford. Fellow of Merton College.
Canon of Windsor, 1607. Died 1615.
4 Founded two Postmasterships in Merton College, Ox-
ford, for Superannuated Eton Scholars: one in the gift of
the Provost of King’s, the other of the Provost of Eton,
value £65. per annum, besides rooms, and a portion of
Commons.
r Eleventh Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
s Rector of Munxton, Hants, and of Everdon, North-
amptonshire. He was a considerable benefactor to both
Colleges. Gave toEton College a beautifully chased silver-
cur and Dish, and the Tapestry which decorates the
all.
t Vice-Provost. Rector of Everdon.
v Lower Master from 1598 to 1610.
w Brother of Sir H. Savile, of Merton College, Oxford.
* Scholar of King’s in 1594. Chaplain to James Ist.
Dean of Hereford in 1616. Archdeacon of Hereford, 1617.
Canon of Windsor. Rector of Stamford Rivers, Essex,
and of Petworth, Sussex. Bishop of Chichester in 1628,
and of Norwich in 1688. Died April 13, 1641.
FELLOWS OF ETON.
¥John Hales, May 24,1613. |
John Harris, Jan. 7, 1616.
z|)aniel Collins, Jan. 19,
1616.
aCharles Croke, D. D.
Sept. o, Vol7.
Richard Bateman, D. D.
June 30, 1619.
John Smyth, May 9, 1622.
b David Stokes, June 7, 1624.
John Cleaver, Jan. 18, 1635.
¢John Harrison, Oct. 18,
1636.
dJohn Meredith, April 22,
1642.
¢Joseph Symonds, 1647.
John Bacheler, Sept. 1647.
fGeorge Goad, Oct. 18, 1648.
£ Nicholas Lockyer, Jan.21,
1649.
Richard Penwarn, Mar.10,
1650.
hNathaniel Ingelo, D. D.
Mar. 18, 1650.
‘John Oxenbridge, Oct. 25,
1652.
k John Buncle, A.M. Sep¢.
Se iGao:
Thomas Goodwin, Fed. 7,
1658.
mIsaac Barrow, July 12,
1660.
Nathaniel Ingelo,[re-admit-
ted, | July 12, 1660.
DNicholas Gray, July 12,
1660.
°John Price, July 12, 1660.
PNicholas Cordell, D. D.
Oct. 3, 1660.
aJohn Heaver, D.D. Mar.
12, 1661.
tHenry Bold, B. D. May
17, 1669.
15
y Of Corpus Christi College, Oxford. Fellow of Merton
in 1605. Professor of Greek. Was present at the Synod
of Dort. Canon of Windsor in 1639. Deprived of all, and
reduced to great poverty, in 1642. A most learned person.
Died May 19, 1656. Buried in Eton Church-yard, et. 72.
Canon of Windsor. Rector of Cowley, Middlesex.
4Son of Sir John Croke, Knight, of Chilton, Bucks,
Judge of King’s Bench in 1607. Student of Christ Church,
Oxford. Rector of Agmondesham. Chaplain to Charles
Ist. Died in 1657.
> Of Westminster School, and Trinity College, Cam-
ee Fellow of Peterhouse. Canon of Windsor in
1628.
© Head Master of Eton from 1595 to 1601.
d Nineteenth Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
¢ For several years Vice-Provost.
f Head Master, 1647.
& Seventeenth Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
h Fellow of Emmanuel College.
i Kjected in 1660.
k By mandate of Oliver Cromwell.
removed in 1660.
Head Master, 1655 :
| Of Christ’s College, Cambridge. Ejected 1660.
m Fellow of Peter-House, Cambridge: ejected in 1643,
restored in 1660. Bishop of Man, 1663; also Governor of
the Isle of Man. Bishop of St. Asaph, 1669. Died 1680:
buried in St. Asaph Cathedral.
» Student of Christ Church, Oxford. In 1624 Chief
Master of Merchant Tailors’ School. Head Master of
Eton from 1647 to 1649; then ejected. Was Master of
Tunbridge School. Died Oct. 1660: buried in Eton
Chapel.
© Chaplain to Monk, Duke of Albemarle, and privy to
all the secret transactions of the Restoration. Prebendary
of Sarum. Rector of Petworth. Died 1691.
P Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford.
4 Fellow of Clare Hall, Cambridge: ejected by the Par-
liament, and restored. In 1661 Canon of Windsor. Buried
in St. George’s Chapel.
t Of Christ Church, Oxford. Precentor of Exeter.
16
Timothy Thriscrosse, Mar.
22, 1669.
§ Philp Fell, B.D. June 24,
1670.
‘Thomas Mountague, Oct.
eel
“Zachary Cradock, D. D.
Deere. Gy le
v Henry Godolphin, D. D.
April 14, 1677.
wStephen Upman, Oct. 25,
177:
John Hawtrey, Feb. 28,
1680.
xThomas Horne, Mar. 7,
1682.
yYJohn Roswell, B.D. Aug.
12, 1683.
z'’homas Richardson, Nov.
| 7, 1684.
Edmond Whitfield, B. D.
May 4, 1691.
@Wilhiam Fleetwood, Oct.
13, 1691.
b Robert Young, Fed. 3, 1693.
¢Wilham Richards, Nov. 7,
1695.
dStephen Weston, D. D.
Oct; 9, 1707.
€Francis Hare, D. D. Oct.
Arey 12:
f Richard Hill, A.M. Dec.
22, Lela.
€Richard Sleech, D.D.
Jan. 2o, lela.
hThomas Evans, July 27,
1716.
iThomas Carter, D. D.
Sept. 4, 1716.
FELLOWS
OF ETON.
* Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford. Son of Dr. Fell,
Dean of Christ Church.
‘Scholar of King’s in 1632. Lower Master in 1647.
Head Master in 1660.
« Twenty-first Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
v Twenty-second Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
» Scholar of King’s in 1661. Prebendary of Westmin-
ster in 1691. Died 1707. Buried in Eton Chapel.
* Chaplain to Charles IInd. Rector of Piddle-hinton,
then of Clewer. Vice-Provost from 1697 to 1708.
y Fellow of Corpus Christi College, Oxford. Head Master
of Eton from 1672 to 1682. Canon of Windsor, 1678.
Died 1684.
Of Peinbroke Hall in Cambridge. Prebendary of Ely
in 1697. Master of Peter-House in 1699. Chaplain to
King George Ist, in 1716. He was elected Fellow of Eton
in a very extraordinary manner, being Conduct of the
College. To prevent a person being obtruded upon the
College by the Court, the College Gates were shut, and in
great haste Mr. Richardson was elected. He died July
30, 1733.
a Scholar of King’s, 1675. Chaplain to King William
and Queen Mary. Canon of Windsor in 1702. 1n1708
Bishop of St. Asaph. In 1714 Bishop of Ely. Died Aug.
4, 1723. Author of several valuable works.
> Scholar of King’s in 1661. Some time an Assistant
at Eton. Canon of Windsor, 1673.
¢ Of Trinity College, Oxford. Archdeacon of Berks.
4 King’s in 1682. Sometime Assistant; and Lower
Master of Eton from 1693 to 1706. Vicar of Mapledurham.
Archdeacon of Cornwall. Bishop of Exeter in1724. Died
in 1743.
© King’s in 1688. Tutor of King’s College. Dean of
Worcester. In 1727 Bishop of St. Asaph. In 1731 Bishop
of Chichester, and Dean of St. Paul’s. Died in 1740.
‘Of the ancient and now noble family of Hill, of Hawk-
stone, in Shropshire. Fellow of St. Joln’s College, Cam-
bridge. He was employed in many high situations, ap-
parently incompatible with his sacred profession. Was
Deputy-Paymaster to the armies of William IIId. in
Flanders. Envoy to the King of Sardinia in 1699, and a
Lord of the Treasury. A Lord of the Admiralty in Queen
Anne’s reign. He died very rich, in 1727.
& King’s in 1693. Son of the Organist of Eton College.
Assistant at Eton. Father of Provost Sleech. Died 1729.
h King’s in 1686. Went out in Physic, M.D. 1701:
afterwards entered Holy Orders. When elected Fellow
of Eton, was a Senior Fellow of King’s. Died in 1733.
' King’s in 1690. Assistant at Eton. Master of Wis-
beach School. Lower Master of Eton from 1705 to 1716.
Rector of Worplesdon. Died 1745.
FELLOWS OF ETON.
'Edward Waddington, D.D.
Nov. 9, 1720.
William Malcher, M.A. Dec.
29, 1724.
mKdward Littleton, LL. D.
July 2, 1726.
n William Berriman, D. D.
June 16, 1727.
°Stephen Sleech, D.D. Mar.
17,1729.
George Harris, D.D. Sept.
23, 1731.
PJohn Burton, D. D. Aug.
ae
4 William Goldwin, M. A.
Dec. 10, 1738.
' John Reynolds, M.A. Dec.
10, 17465.
SThomas Ashton, D.D. Dec.
10, 1745.
Thomas Sturges, M.A. June
14, 1746.
t William Cooke, D.D. June
20, 1747.
VYWilham Hetherington, D.D.
Feb. 16, 1749.
Ww Richard Lyne, M.A. Jan.
15, 1752.
xThomas Southernwood,
M.A. April 17, 1752.
yStephen Apthorp, D. D.
Aug. 7, 1758.
2homas Dampier, D. D.
July NS MGT.
4@Wilhiam Hayward Roberts,
Dep reo NO ile
bEdward Betham, M. A.
Moreh 2, MiGs vi
¢homas Barnard, M. A.
Feb. 14, 1772.
dThomas Chamberlayne,
M.A. April 14,1772.
¢ Henry Sleech, M.A. Mar.
ey Li 1d.
17
' Kings in 1687. Chaplain to George Ist. Bishop of
Raiaeee in 1724, holding his Fellowship inCommendam.
1ed 1731.
m King’s in 1716. Assistant at Eton, 1720.
to George Ist and IInd. Rector of Mapledurham.
in 1734.
Chaplain
Died
» Of Merchant Tailors’ School, and Oriel College, Oxon.
He left an Exhibition for a Superannuated Eton Scholar,
Since augmented by Dr. Hetherington and Dr. Davies,
and now worth £36. per annum: in the gift of the Provost
of Kton. He died in 1750.
° Twenty-fourth Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
P Scholar of Corpus Christi College, Oxon, in 1713, and
Tutor there for 15 years. Rector of Mapledurham, and
afterwards of Worplesdon. A good Scholar and Divine.
4 King’s in 1710. Master of the Grammar School at
Bristol. A great punster. PublishedSermons. Died in
1747.
r King’s in 1690. Master of the Grammar School at
Exeter. Canon Residentiary of Exeter. He left three
Exhibitions for Superannuated Eton Scholars, now worth
£46.each. He was a near relation of Sir Joshua Reynolds,
and there is an admirable painting of him in the Audit
Room, by that great Master. He died 1758, xt. 87.
® King’s in 1733. Rector of St. Botolph, Bishopsgate.
Preacher at Lincoln’s Inn. Died in 1772.
t Twenty-eighth Provost of King’s. See List of Provosts.
v At Eton School, but not of King’s. He built at his
own expense a Chapel-of-Ease at Etcn, and left many
charities to the Parish. Died 1778.
w King’s in 1733. Assistant at Eton for some years.
Chaplain in Ordinary to the King.
« King’s in 1724. Tutor of King’s College. Rector of
Walkerne, Herts.
vy King’s in 1728. An Assistant at Eton. Rector of
Worplesdon. Died Dec. 12, 1790.
7 King’s in 1731. Lower Master from 1745 to 1767.
Prebendary of Canterbury, which he exchanged for a
Canonry of Windsor. Prebendary of Durham in 1771;
afterwards Dean of Durham. Died 1777.
4 Twenty-sixth Provost of Eton. See List of Provosts.
> King’s in 1728. Rector of Greenford. A Whitehall
Preacher. Gave £700. to erect a Statue of Henry VIth
in the Chapel. Died in 1783.
¢ Brother to Dr. Barnard, Twenty-fifth Provost of Eton.
Vicar of Mapledurham.
4 Was Vice-Provost of Eton, and Rector of Worplesdon.
e Brother of Stephen Sleech, Twenty-fourth Provost of
Kton. Assistant Master many years: Lower Master
from 1767 to 1775.
D
18
fYohn Young, D.D. March |
13, 1776.
€ Edward Tew, M. A. Dec.
Delo
hJohn Norbury, D. D. Dec.
4, 1783.
iWilliam Barford, D. D.
March 19, 1784.
kBenjamin Heath,D.D.Dec.
28, 1784.
1William Roberts, M. A.
June 12, 1786.
mWilliam Foster, D. D.Dec.
21, 1790.
nKdward Hawtrey, M. A.
Dec. 8, 1792
°John Roberts, D.D. April
4, 1800.
PGeorge Heath, D.D. Dec.
12, 1801.
@Wilham Langford, D. D.
March 18, 1803.
John Septimus Grover, M.A.
Feb. 9, 1814.
' John Bird Sumner, D. D.
June 21, 1817.
George Bethell, M. A. Sept.
21, 1818.
‘James Camper Wright,M.A.
Nov. 21, 1821.
‘John Briggs, M. A. March
12, 1822.
John Francis Plumptre,
M.A. March 12, 1822.
vYJohn Lonsdale, D. D. Fed.
26, 1827.
Thomas Carter, M.A. April
14, 1829.
George Rowney Green, M.A.
Jan. 26, 18398.
George John Dupuis, M.A.
Oct. 30. 1838.
John Wilder, M.A. May 20,
1840.
FELLOWS OF ETON.
‘ King’s in 1746. Prebendary of Worcester. His horse
fell with him, and he was killed, May, 1786.
& King’s in 1753. Vice-Provost. Vicar of Mapledurham.
Died August, 1818.
bh King’s in 1742. Many years Assistant at Eton. Vicar
of Mapledurham.
Public Orator.
i King’s in 1737. Tutor of King’s.
Prebendary of
Chaplain to the House of Commons.
Canterbury, 1770. Died, 1792.
k King’s in 1758. Head Master of Harrow School.
Rector ot Walkerne, and of Farnham Royal. Died in 1817.
1 King’s in 1780. Forashort time Assistant at Eton.
Vice-Provost. Rector of Worplesdon. Died Jan. 1,133.
m King’s in 1767. Many years an Assistant at Eton.
Chaplain in Ordinary to the King. Rector of Clewer.
Died Feb. 1827.
" King’s in 1760. Assistant at Eton.
ham.
Rector of Burn-
° King’s in 1780. Assistant at Eton. Rector of Creeting,
then of Sonning, Berks, and Burnham, Bucks. Died
Feb. 23, 1822.
P King’s in 1763.
from 1792 to 1802.
minster-Marshall.
q King’s in 1762.
Canon of Windsor.
Head Master
Vicar of Stour-
Assistant at Eton.
Canon of Windsor.
Died Feb. 23, 1822.
Lower Master from 1775 to 1802.
Vicar of Isleworth. Died 1814.
r King’s in 1798. Assistant at Eton.
Now Prebendary
of Durham, and Bishop of Chester. |
s King’s in 1792. Rector of Walkerne. Died 1838.
t King’s in 1790. Rector of Creeting. Died 1840.
v Now Bishop of Lichfield.
ALUMNI ETONENSES.
HEN. VI.
1443.
aWilliam Hatecliffe*
b William Towne
¢John Langport
d Robert Dummer
€ Richard Cove
f John Chedworth
Thomas Scot, alias
Rotherham
1444.,
h Richard Rocket
John Goldsmyth
Wilham Stokke, or
Stok .
Edward Hancock
Richard Fawley
iJohn Plente, or Plen-
tith
John Brown
1445,
Wilham Lynne, or
Lyme [ butt
John Trusbot or Trus-
Thomas Saye
PPP ALL OP LOLOL OL LD DLL LLL
1443.
Doctor of Physic.
to King Edward [V.
’D.D. Rector of Kingston,
Cambridgeshire. °
c A. M. and Vice-Provost.
4 Admitted Scholar, Sept. 15,
1443.
e LL. D.
fSecond Provost of King’s.
See List of Provosts.
g Chaplain, and Lord Privy Seal
to King Edward IV. Provost of
Beverley. Bishop of Rochester ;
then Master of Pembroke Hall,
Lord Chancellor of England till
he resigned it to Elizabeth, wife
to King Edward IVth, in King
Richard IIId’s reign. Afterwards
Archbishop of York. Cardinal
titulo Sancte Cecilie. Secretary
to four Kings. He built the
University Library, and the two
little Schools under it, and Lin-
coln College, Oxford, Jesus Col-
lege in Rotherham, and a great
part of Whitehall. He died in
1500, et. 76.
Secretary
1444.
h Prior of the Carthusian House
in London.
i Prebendary of Chester, and
Exeter.
1445.
kD. D. Of the ancient family
of Hampden of Hampden, County
of Bucks.
| A chorister at Eton in 1441.
mA. M.
2 LL.D.
° 1). D. FourthProvost of King’s,
and remained 20 years. Elected
Oct. 15,1479. Provost of Elizabeth
a
1445 continued.
KEdmund Hampden,
or Hambden
‘Roger Flecknowe, or
Hleckmore
™ Richard Denum
n'Thomas Yerburgh, ov
Yarborough
Thomas Cliffe
°Walter Field
PJohn Freeman
d'Thomas Bower
rHdmund Arnold
Ss John Lucas
William Vincent
John Dorman
‘John Hoare
1446.
Richard Whitchurch
Richard Warmyngton
Robert Parker
Robert Walker
Henry Cokkes
1447.
vJohn Peynter
College at Winchester—dissolved by Henry VII{th. P Clerk of the Privy Seal to the King. 4 Vicar
of Ringwood.
Canon of Windsor 1451.
rM.D.and D.D.
s’M.A. Vicar of Chalk, Wilts.
1447. v Head Master of Eton from 1458 to 1464.
‘ Rector of Stower Provost.
* Note. The six Fellows of the first Foundation, continued Members of the second: On this new
Establishment by King HENry, Hatecliffe and Towne, A. M. two of the former Fellows or Scholars,
came to Eron, and were incorporated and admitted Gremials of the Collere, by Provost WAYN-
FLETE, Sept. 15, 1443, and two days after, viz. Sept. 17, they returned to CAMBRIDGE, and were
re-admitted Fellows or Scholars of KING’s COLLEGE, together with Langport and Dummer, on the
new Establishment. And this being after the Founder had completed the 21st year of his reign, viz.
August 31st, consequently it then was the 22nd year of Henry VI.—Cove, Chedworth, and Rother-
ham were admitted Scholars of K1ne@’s in July following. ;
+ Roche, and the other six Scholars of this year, were admitted into Ktn@’s CoLLEeGE, Mens.
Octob. A. D. 1444. This being in like manner after HENRy VI. had reigned 22 years, viz. August
31st, consequently it then was the 23rd year of his reign.
D2
20
1447 continued.
Wilham Warmystre
Thomas Stokke
John Boston
Godwin Catesby
Thomas Jaale
William Clerke
John Gryswoll, or
Grisswold
John Asshby
1448 7
x Richard Lincoln
Richard Numan
Alexander Kyng
John Benton
Thomas Turneham
John Rotherham
Henry Launde
Nicholas Sherfield
John Door, or Dore
John Beck
Thomas Roche
yThomas Dalton
John Combe
1449.2
Wilham Allerton
John Bremys
Thomas Goldwell
aOliver Kyng
bSimon Aylward
Walter Lempster
Wilham Ordew
John Milbery
Thomas Chaundeler or
Chaloner
John Bernard
1450.
William Wynnes
¢Wilham Skvby
Wilham Flecknowe
d John Canterbury
John Hanny
John Warde
Thomas Hert
1448.
w The following 13 were admit-
ted Scholars, Sept. 14, being the
Feast of the Exaltation of the
Cross, commonly called Holy-
Rood day.
x Vicar of Prescot, Lancashire.
y A physician of eminence.
1449,
«The ten following were ad-
mitted Scholars, Oct. 12, being
the Feast of St. Edward the King.
aCanon of Windsor, 1481.
Bishop of Exeter, 1492; then of
Bath and Wells, 1495. Principal
Secretary to Edward, heir of
Henry VI., Edward IV., Edward
V., and Henry VII. Buried at
Windsor, with this Inscription,
‘* Orate pro Domino Olivero King
Juris Professore.”’
b Wrote a Book on Chess, in
Monkish Rhyme.
1450.
e Proctor 1460. Prebendary of
Hereford. Died 1488.
d Clerk of the Works to King
Henry VI.
e Canon of Windsor, 1469.
f Vicar of Ringwood: a notable
Mathematician, whom Henry VII
so favoured that he often went to
him to Ringwood privately.
1451.
g Vicar of Wotton of Wawen,
Warwickshire.
h Fifth Provost of King’s. See
the List of Provosts.
1454,
i Proctor 1460. Gave all his
books to the College Library.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 144:7—1454,.
1450 continued.
€ Alexander Lee, or
Leigh
Hugh Wolfe
fJohn Hodgkyns
1451.
Edmund Lychefield
William Wyche
£Roger, or Richard,
Jordan
bhJohn Doget
John Bullyngton
Thomas Belgrave
Henry Hunt
1452.
John Bawdewyn
John Spicer
Robert Langley
John Elton
Thomas Assby,
Ashby
John Dey
John Skyllyng
John Horne
William Nele,ov Neale
or
1453.
Thomas Roke
Thomas Petty
1454.
'Wilham Skelton
Willam lLynnyng, or
Limninge
John Jettreys
Matthew Knyston
Robert Brantham
John Wellys, or Willes
Walter Rokes
Walter Hethyn
Walter Bagot
Robert Morrall
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1455—1467.
1455.
Edward Lockton
Wilham Godeman, or
Goodman
John Coker
John Gysburgh, orGis-
bourough
Robert Waleys, or
Wallis
Thomas Spine
John Castel, or Castle
Henry Tethingworth
John Sampson
1456.
John Kyng
John Selett
Robert Colson
Nicholas Wallop
1457.
Thomas Toft
John Bennet
John Reynolds
Thomas Cokks
William Cobbe
Richard Blackman
1John Willes
mWalter Barber, or
Barbar
Thomas Bird
nJohn Argentine
1458.
© Michael Palmer
Jonn Boberfeld
1456.
« The ‘‘ Composition’? between
King’s College and the University
was made this year, which is still
in force, and introduced into the
oaths, exempting the members
of King’s College from the au-
thority of all University Officers
within their walls.
1457.
' Rector of Kingston.
m Head Master of Eton from
1470 to 1477.
n Physician to Prince Edward
and Prince Arthur, and Dean of
his Chapel. Sixth Provost of
King’s in 1501. He gave to the
College a fair Basin and Ewer of
Silver, with other Plate, still re-
maining in the custody and use
oz the Provost.
1458.
© Slain in the battle of St. Al-
ban’s, in defence of his Founder.
1467.
P Head Master of Eton from
1503 to 1507.
21
1458 continued.
Wilham Lamner
William Harding
1459.—1465.,
HEN. VI.*
EDW. IV.
Thomas Mercert+
Thomas Hancock
Henry Damyon
John Clerke
Michael Skylling
Thomas Weldon
Robert Wedow
Thomas Elys
Wilham Skepe
John Mason
M. Combe
1466.
John Fryet
John Denyse
Roger Merston
1467,
William Michell §
Wilham Aleyn
Robert Wenslow, o7
Newslow
Thomas Upnor
Benedict Dodyn, or
Dodding
William Clarke
PJohn Smith
Thomas Wheateley
* The troubles of King HENRY’s reign greatly increased in the year 1459; and, in the year 1461,
he was deposed.
From 1459 to 1466, an interval of six years, there was no regular Election of Scholars at Eron.
KiNne’s COLLEGE was in a manner dissolved; all the Scholars, and the greater part of the Fellows,
were dismissed. There is no Commons-Book to be met with at KinG’s CoLLEGE, till the 6th of
EDWARD LV.
In 1461, Forty of the Fellows and Scholars were in one day excluded, besides Choristers and
Officers. (Dr. Goodall.)
+ If Mercer and the ten following Scholars, here set down, were admitted, it must have been
between Michaelmas, Ann. 39, HENRY VI. and Ann. 6, EDwARp IV. Ben
Frye, Denyse, and Merston, were this year Scholars at KING’s COLLEGE; it is therefore probable
that the first Election in King EpDwArpD’s reign was in this Year.
§ Former Catalogues in this and the three following Years are very erroneous.
Michell and the
several Scholars to Long, Ann. 1470, are here truly placed. The original Election Rolls for these
Years, 1467—1470, are still extant in ETON COLLEGE.
22
1468.
qWilham Sterton
r John Leycroft
SRobert Wodrofe, or
Woodroose
John Burgham
John Aschewell
John Bowys,or Bower
Henry Swyfte, or Switt
1469.
Richard Petywere, or
Pedisere,or Pettyver
Henry Bridde, or Bird
Hugh Thompson
Roger Jackson, alas
Overton
Thomas Knyght
Henry Archer
14:70.
Wilham Bryan
Thomas Machy
Clement Perchylde
_ *Richard Hatton
John Bramston
Wilham Tylle
John Pitcard
John Long
1471.*
Ambrose
Thomas Bollis, or Bul-
lame
YPhilip Morgan
Wilham Baxter
w Richard Reynolds
Bryan Esthorpe
Laurence Logan
14:72.
—- Barowdon
x Robert Hacomblen
1468. |
q Vicar of Madingley.
r Proctor 1478.
5 Proctor 1476.
1470.
tSeventh Provost of King’s,
March 22, 1507. Chaplain to
Henry VII.
1471.
v Esquire Bedell of the Univer-
sity. Physician to the Lady Mar-
garet, Countess of Richmond and
Derby.
w Vicar of Wotton Wawen.
1472.
x Vicar of Prescott. Chosen
Eighth Provost of King’s, June
28, 1509.
y Vicar of Fordingbridge.
1475.
Rector of Stamford Rivers,
and of North Swinfield, Essex.
1476.
4Rector of Kingston, Cam-
bridgeshire.
’ Chancellor of Chichester,1512.
|
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1468—1476.
1472 continued.
Skolsham
Robert Bernard
Gosse
YRobert Ellesmer
1478.
John St. John
1474,
John Lute, or Luke
Wilham Ade
Robert Furneyce, or
Furnasse
John Bursur,or Barker
John Pickmond, or
Pickman
1475.
John Copland
William Michell
George Fitzherbert
Roger Muntgumery
Alexander Knoyle, or
Knowles
Ralph Creke
1476.
John Goldyng
4Henry Warde
Thomas Cotton
John Hunnale, or
Hamnall
John Lory
John Bulman
Henry Reynold
Wilham Clovyll
bWilham Burley, or
Burleigh
Wilham Trend
John St. George
Thomas Taylour
* King Henry VI. died May 23, 1471.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1477—1486.
14:77,
Henry Egelston, or
Kechson
¢ Richard Stevyns
Robert Brown
John Porter
Wilham Aunger
1478.
¢Wilham Kedylton, or
Kettleson
Richard Rothelay, or
Rodeley
1479.
Wiliam Hampshire
John Tringe
Thomas Molle
Richard Lychefield, or
Lichfield
John St. John
Richard Hogekyns, or
Hodgkins
William Bowes
1480.
John Gundys
Henry Medwall, or
Woodhall
Simon Montfort
Roger Philpot
John Bolle, or Beale
John Whyte
John Kyte
John Harris, or Hawis
Richard Brewster
1481.
John Smyth
Richard Newton
1482.
George Brokysby
Ralph ( Randall) Sharp
Hugh Emlyn
™ Prebendary of York.
1477.
¢ Vice-Provost.
1478.
4 Chancellor of Lichfield.
1479.
¢ Rector of Horstead, Norfolk.
1483.
f Master of the Choristers at
Fotheringay.
1484.
& Master of the Choristers at
Windsor.
h Employed by Henry VIIth
and VIIIth on several foreign
embassies. Canon of Windsor.
Registrar of the Garter. Bishop
of Ely 1515. Died in 1533: buried
in Ely Cathedral.
** Nicholas West, born at Put-
ney in Surrey. Being factious
and turbulent, while he was
Scholar, he set the whole College
together by the ears about the
Proctorship ; and when he could
not obtain his desire, he set the
Provost’s lodge on fire, and, steal-
ing away certain silver spoons,
departed from the College: but
Shortly after he became a new
man, repaired to the University,
and commenced D. D. He had
a great faculty in opening the
dark places in Scripture; was
likewise well experienced in the
Canon and Civil Laws. Was often
sent Ambassador by King Henry
VIIth to foreign Princes. Was
made Dean of Windsor, and Re-
istrar of the Order of the Garter.
ishop of Ely in 1515. In lieu
of the wrong he had done to the
College, he gave it many rich
gifts and plate, and built part of
the Provost’s lodge. Queen Ca-
therine chose him and Fisher her
advocates in the cause of divorce,
wherein he incurred the King’s
displeasure. He kept daily in
his house 100 servants, to the
meanest of which he gave 40 shil-
lings per annum, and to some
more; and to each of them 74
yards of cloth for their winter
and summer liveries. He relieved
daily 200 poor folks at his gates
with warm meat and drink. In
time of dearth he distributed
great sums of money among
those of theIsle. He lived Bishop
of Ely 17 years and 6 months,
and lyeth buried at Ely, under a!
tomb built by him before his
death.”? (Dr. Goodall.)
iD. C. L., and Master ofKing’s
Hall in Cambridge. Bishop of
Lichfield and Coventry in 1503.
Lord President of Wales in 1512.
Being attached for Treason, he
cleared himself very worthily of
the charge. Died in 1533: buried
at Lichfield.
k Chaplain to King Henry VIII.
1485, 1486.
1 Vicar of Ringwood, and Vice-
Provost. He made a bequest to
the College, known as Mr. Scales’
20
1483.
‘Robert, or Thomas,
Cottrel
John Watson
An. eodem.
RICH. III.
Wilham Chambre
® Richard Hampshire
Thomas Browne
Thomas Stanbrige
hNicholas West
William Rudston
‘Jeffery Blythe
William Peper, or Pe-
pyre
1484.
kThomas Reynes
Thomas Hall
Thomas Wulward
Robert Horneby
Thomas Aylofte, or
Heyloffe
1485, 1486.
RICH. IIL.
HEN. VII.
Henry Mancell, or
Mantell
‘William Scealys, or
Scales
John Hale, or Hall
m John Carnebull
Thomas Beylby
«James Denton
Willam Restwold, or
Knestwood
Richard Yong orYoung
Simon Symkin, or
Simpkin
°John Carvenell
Jeffry Lyngard
Walter Feilde
Salary.
. Doctor of Civil Law. Chaplain to Henry VIII.
Chancellor to the Lady
Mary Dowager of France. Prebendary of four Cathedral Churches, viz. York, Lincoln, Salisbury, and
Windsor. Dean of Lichfield.
built the lodgings for the Master and the Choristers. _ (
and John Clarke, Dean, received the sheets as reliques, in which Henry VI. was murdered.
° Chaplain to James Vth. King of Scotland. Dean of Norwich.
in 1532: buried at Ludlow.
Lord President of Wales.
A great benefactor to Windsor.
By indenture from the Lord Hastings, he
He
He died
24
1487.
Miles Maleverer
PWilham Cosyn
John Samson
Thomas Bradman
Robert Amfilys
John Radley
Robert Saylys
1488.
Philip Weldon
aThomas Lane, or La-
ney
Lewis Hawkebroke
Wilham Wylton
Thomas Bradwell
1489,
t John Asplond, ov Asp-
land
‘Thomas Crosley
John Harwode
Walter Colnette
Willam Nelson
1490.
Alexander Eglyston,
or Kighson
John Halle
John Byrde
Daniel Baker
Thomas Godewyne
Hamlet Leigh
Thomas Ashby
John Saye
1491.
Wilham Browne
Thomas Wythers
‘John Smythe
1492.
Drugo Saunders
John Kelham
John Smyth
John Hert
1487.
P Dean of Wells in 1498. Died
1525.
1488.
a Canon of Windsor in 1497.
Bishop of Norwich 1499. Died
in 1500: buried at Norwich.
1489.
r Rector of Coltishall, Norfolk.
s Archdeacon of Nottingham.
1491.
t Head Master of Eton 1506.
1493.
v Died Fellow.
w Died Fellow: buried in the
Chapel.
1494.
x Proctor in 1505.
Kingston.
y Rector of Coltishall, Norfolk.
A benefactor to the Philosophy
Schools ; in the windows of which
may yet be seen in escutcheons
his name with these three letters
B. R. E, and a Tun under it.
The same rebus is to be seen in
Lupton’s Chapel.
Rector of
1495.
7 Rector of Toft Monks with
Hadiscoe.
4 Rector of Willingham, Cam-
bridgeshire. He glazed theVestry
on the North side of the Chapel,
which was for the use of the Vice-
Provost.
b One of the Esqttire Bedells.
¢ Rector of Munxton, Hants,
and Chaplain to CardinalWolsey.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1487—1496.
1492 continued.
Hugh Woodcock
Edward Betham
1493.
vJohn Cretyng
wHidward Thetcher, or
Thacker
Philip Hawerne, or
Haward
Robert Allen
Wilham Tayler
Anthony Goldysbo-
rough
Thomas Roberts
1494,
John Stedman
John Barrey
Edmund Lese, alias
Lees
xKdmund Page
Robert Cromwell
yWalter Breton
John Watts
1495.
Wilham Oldall
Z'homas Seaton
William Clerke
aJohn Rumpaine
bRobert Hobys,
Hobbs
or
John Wyche, Mich,or
Myche
Richard Wilkynson
¢John Barret, or Bar-
rett
Thomas Andesley, or
Anderley
1496.
Wilham St. George
John Ray, or Wraye
John Heydon
William Shuttysbury,
or Stutbury
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1496—1506.
14.96 continued.
Thomas, alias Wilham
Scawsby
«Thomas Stevyns
James, o7 John, Bar-
ber
Thomas Hamersham
fThomas, or Wilham,
Franklyn.
1497.
Wilham Clarke
€John Krlyche
‘Thomas Amery
Henry Leydulfe,
Leydelph
Humphrey Tyrrell
Lewis Sympson
Thomas Clifford
+Wilham Conyngsby
or
1498.
Edward Ashe
John Atwell
Wilham Newton
iJohn West
Nicholas Lymel, or
Lemitt
William Hartwell
kJohn Sampson
John Wellysburne
1499.
1Brian Rowe
Wilham Smythe
Robert Swan
Oswyn Lavynder
John Watts
Thomas Spere,
Speerer
Or
1500.
Thomas Crokwell
Robert Blythe
George Brudenell
mJohn Russel
nJohn Clerke
1496.
d Vicar of Chalk.
e Vice-Provost.
Cardinal Wolsey.
t Dean of Windsor.
Chalfont St. Giles’.
Chaplain to
Rector of
1497.
& ReceiverGeneral for theKing.
h Serjeant at Law in 1540, and
in 1541 a Judge of the King’s
Bench.
1498.
i Vicar of Ringwood, and there
buried.
k Proctor 1510. Vice-Provost
and appointed Vicar of Ringwood,
but died before his presentation.
1499.
' An excellent Scholar ; ap-
pointed to dispute befcre King
Henry Vilth, when atCambridge.
Wrote the Preface to a Book
called *Scutum Inexpugnabile,’
(written by one Barker, called
the sophister of King’s) with
many Poems: also an Epigram
on the Praise of St. Mary, and
Poems upon the Coming of King
Henry VIith to Cambridge.
Buried in the Chapel.
1500.
m Singing Man at Fotheringay,
a Collegiate Church, valued at
the dissolution at £419. 11s. 103d.
per annum.
n One of the Esquire Bedells.
° Rector of Horstead, Norfoik.
P Vicar of West Weetham.
1501.
4 Vice Provost. A good Divine.
Vicar of Prescott, Lancashire.
Dean of Christ Church, Oxford.
Highly skilled in music.
r Lady Margaret’s Professor of
Divinity. Buried in the Chapel.
1502.
s Concerned in the imposture
of the Holy Maid of Kent. See
that Chronicle, and Burnet’s
History of the Reformation.
‘ Rector of Halifax, County of
York.
1503.
“Rector of Wotton Wawen, and
of Horton, County of Warwick.
1504.
vMaster of the Choristers at
RamseyAbbey.
1505.
~ Canon of Windsor in 1535,
and Prebendaryof Sarum, King’s
Chaplain, and Vicar of Bray.
1506.
x A very learned Greek Scholar.
Reader of Greek at Leipsic in
Germany. FPubuc Orator, and
Greek Professor in 1522. Canon
of Cardinal Wolsey’s College,
Oxon. in 1532: continued there
one year, and retired on a pen-
sion of £26. 13s. 4d. per annum.
Author of many treatises. Died
1558.
20
John Jervys
PRobert Harrisleye, or
Harbesey
1501.
Wilham Ravening
aqRobert Noake
Thomas. Lane
Thomas Render
Christopher Chancey
Thomas Ashley
1502.
Leonard Cotton
John Klngham
*Richard Maister
tJobn Richard
Andrew Bromesmith
Robert Moody
1503.
Wilham Bowet,
Barrett
whomas Hertwell
Robert Rednap
Wilham Swaine
Richard Leminger
or
1504.
tobert Toche
John Michaelhalfe
George Hall
Thomas Hewit
John Lebdall
Thomas Higney
YJohn Buttery
William Clerke
1505.
John Hertwell
Andrew Bernard
Richard Ingosworth
George Brothers
wSimon Simons
1506.
Richard Crooke
E
26
1506 continued.
YRalph Lupton
John Burway
Alexander Boston
John Dove
2Wilham Duffing
aJohn Holland
Robert Briggs
1507.
Thomas Welles
bRobert Aldrich
Wilham Atkins
John Friendship
Anthony Shipton
John Crooke
Roger Hastings
1508.
John Burgany
Henry Hanly
Guido Johnson
‘John Rightwise
Hugh Harburne, or
Harborne
HEN. VIII.
1509.
John Atkinson
Anthony Lupton
Thomas Bellinger
John Cocke
Thomas Leigh
John Nose
dJohn Stoyle
1510.
John Grape
John Brian
John Meade
Thomas Fullwood
1514. " Rector of Hadenbam and Wilverton.
but died before his consecration, supposed to have been poisoned.
1506 continued.
y Rector of St. Alban’s, Wood-
street. A Benefactor to Eton
College.
« Vicar of Fordingbridge. An
excellent Astronomer.
«A Knight Templar of St. John
of Jerusalem.
1507.
b Seventh Provost of Eton. See
List of Provosts. Styled by
Erasmus, ‘ Blande eloquentie#
Juvenis.’
_ 1508.
¢An eminent Grammarian.
Master of St. Paul’s School.
Married the daughter of the fa-
mous Lilly, who wrote the Tra-
gedy of Dido from Virgil, and
performed it with great applause
before Cardinal Wolsey.
1509.
4 Rector of Hadleigh, Suffolk.
° 1510.
e Commenced A. M.with Cran-
mer, afterwards Archbishop of
Canterbury, and became his
Chaplain.
ee
f Canon of St. Paul’s.
& He purchased the pardons or
indulgences of Boston in Lin-
colnshire, granted to those who
should repair the decayed har-
bour and shores there. By the
sale of them he became very rich.
hA Monk at Ely, and died
Conduct, or rather Confessor, at
Eton. He was Dr. Bost’s Chaun-
trey Priest, as also Dr. Lupton’s.
Buried in Eton Chapel, where
was this Inscription—
‘‘Of your charity pray for
the soule ot Sir Alexander Philip,
Chauntry Priest for Dr. Lup-
ton, who died Dec. 13, 1558.
Whose soul God pardon.”’
iChaplain to the Abbot of
Peterborough.
1512.
k Ninth Provost of King’s in
1528. See List of Provosts.
1513:
| Lower Master of Eton, 1520.
m Canon Residentiary of St.
Paul’s, and Vicar of Prescot in
1529. Some of his sermons
against the Pope are still in
print.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1506—1515.
1510 continued.
€Richard Harman
Kidward Gossinghill
oe
"Nicholas Cliffe
Thomas Woodford
John Andilton
William Drury
fJohn Andrewe,
Andrews
hAlexander Philip
iJohn Boucher
Richard Pickering
or
1512.
kKdward Foxe
Wilham Trippet
Roger Hertwell
Thomas Huggle
15138.
'Henry Halhead, or
Halstead
mSimon Matthew
Wilham Richard
Wilham Smith
Wilham Skinner
Wilham Turgesse
1514.
John Newman
XNicholas Hawkins
oHdward Hall
PThomas Cornwallis
qRobert Day
William Amfleys
1515.
Simon Wolveston
John Bishop
rRobert Wood
Archdeacon of Ely. Nominated Bishop of Ely,
He sold in time of famine
all his plate and goods to relieve the poor people of the Isle of Ely, and was himself served on
wooden dishes and earthen pots.
oStudied the Law at Gray’s Inn.
the Sheriff’s Court
p Archdeacon of Norwich, 1543.
4 Master of the School at Yarmouth.
1515.
r Vicar of Arrington in Cambridgeshire.
Common Serjeant of the City of London, and a Judge in
He wrote a history of the York and Lancaster wars.
Died 1547.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1515—1528.
1515 continued.
SWilliam Goulding
‘Jeffery Blythe
John Wellshot
John Lylyes
Thomas Lynne
1516.
Edward Aldrich
uPeter Pierson
Nicholas Crowe
Toy.
YWilham Brough
wJohn Fryer
xJohn, or
Lupton
Peter Garrett
yYEdward Saxby
2'l‘homas Parry
Thomas,
1518.
aKdward Denton
John Bellonian,
Bellman
bHenry Sumptner,
Sumpner, o7 Sumnei
¢Hugh Dodd
Thomas Chantrell
John Hawly
or
arg:
John Goodall
Bnan Smith
dEdward Torrel
€Rodolph Bradtord
f Richard Coxe
Richard Sampson
Henry Mynne
John Bletefeild, Bel-
fyld, or Belzfeild
1521.
! One of the Esquire Bedells.
1515 continued.
* Master of Cardinal Wolsey’s
School in Ipswich.
Kton in 1540, and Vice Provost.
‘ Prebendary of Lichfield. He
was the last Master of King’s
Hall in Cambridge, which, with
some other Houses, Henry VIII.
converted into Trinity College.
1516.
" Expelled while Scholar ; after-
wards a Law Student at St.Paul’s
Hostel, where the Rose Tavern
lately stood.
1517.
Y Rector of Dunton Wallet,
Essex.
w Translated from King’s to
Christ Church, Oxford. Becom-
ing a violent Lutheran, he was
committed prisoner to the Mas-
ter of the Savoy. On being re-
leased, he travelled, and returned
to the Romish Religion; and
was M.D. Died 1563.
«Student of Law in Clement’s
inn.
y Student of Law in Clement’s
Inn.
z Lower Master of Eton, 1521.
1518.
2 LL. B. of Trinity Hall.
b Entered himself at Christ
Church, Oxford, where, being
hardly used, soon died.
ec Was expelled.
1519.
d Rector of Ewhurst, Sussex.
e Persecuted for Religion: took
D. D. in Corpus Christi College,
Cambridge. Chaplain to Lati-
mer, Bishop of Worcester.
f Head Master of Eton, 1530.
Dean of Westminster and Christ
Church, Oxford. Prebendary of
Windsor. Almoner to K. Edw.
VI. and his Schoolmaster. Chan-
cellor of the University of Ox-
ford, and a Privy Councillor.
Bishop of Ely, £1559. Died 1581.
He was deprived of his Prefer-
ments by Queen Mary, and re-
tired from England. Returned
under Elizabeth. Whitgift, aiter-
wards Archbishop ot Canterbury,
was his Chaplain.
¢ Rector of Balsham, Cam-
bridgeshire. Afterwards a Law-
yer in Norwich.
1520.
h Proctor in 1530. Regius Pro-
fessor of Physic.
i Wxpelled the College.
k Expelled the College.
Fellow of
27
1520.
hJohn Blythe
‘John Lynnell
KRobert Cooper
John White
Thomas Dodson
Richard Hampshire
1521.
Wilham Nanseglos
Anthony Brown
Edward Letsome
lJohn Meire
Thomas Fuller
mHdward Keble
Nicholas Oulsworth
Roger Bound
nJasper Ferne
Eustace Woodford
1522
Stephen Ferne
John Dickinson
Richard Bland
William Skipton
John Atkinson
Thomas Dickenson
Hugh Lofte
1528.
PRobert Cooke
qGiles Ayre, or Eyer
Thomas Sadler
John Wickham
Humphrey Darrel
Nicholas Compton
Edmund Turgesse
"Thomas Rivett
‘John Johnson
‘Richard Grey
William Glynne
At his death he gave his house to the University, in re-
membrance of which aSermon is preached in Bene’t Church on Waster Tuesday Morning.
m Prebendary of Salisbury.
» Skilful in Architecture.
1522.
1523.
Suffolk.
a Chaplain to Hen. VIil. and Edw. VI.
of great esteem. ;
r Vicar of Boxford in Suffolk.
Master of St. Alban’s School.
° Rector of Horstead, Norfolk. :
P Rector of Coltishall, Norfolk. Master of Colchester, and afterwards of Dedham School,
Dean of Chichester.
* Fellow of Eton, and excluded by Queen Mary, being married.
t Vicar of Witham.
pointed Dr. Baker,being the first Preferment she gave.
Rector of Kingston.
A preacher
Nominated to be Provost, but, Queen Mary dying, Queen Elizabeth ap-
E:2
28
1524.
John Lindsell
Thomas Whitehead
uWilliam Sketts
William Saunders
John Bennett
Thomas Bartlett
Thomas Bernard
VRobert Batchelour
Jasper Shadwell
1525.
Thomas Bulward
Thomas Bland
Andrew Wackam
WRichard Ward
Richard Carter
John Smith
George Creed
Roger French
xRobert Brassy
Thomas Atkinson
Nicholas Hilbert
1526.
yYMartin Tyndall
Richard Lynne
Henry Pamplin
4John Bulgay,
Bungay
William Foster
Wilham Sturton
James Sampson
John King
Richard Withers
or
1527.
Thomas Brudnell
Roger Swynbanke
aRichard Atkinson
Thomas Goldburne
Wilham Holdgill
‘Wiliam Bagley
cJohn Fuller
1528.
dJohn Googe, or Gorge
eWilliam Alley
1524.
u Lady Margaret’s Professor of
Divinity. Vicar of Ringwood.
v Conduct of King’s College.
1525.
w Cofferer to Queen Elizabeth.
x Thirteenth Provost of King’s.
See List of Provosts.
1526.
y Master of St. Alban’s Schoo}.
Fellow of Eton, 1563.
1527.
«Twelfth Provost of King’s,
1553. See List of Provosts.
b Lower Master of Eton in 1535.
ec A martyr to the Reformation,
and burnt to death on Jesus Green
in Cambridge, April 2, 1556.
1528.
4 Conduct of Eton College.
e Divinity Reader at St. Paul’s
Cathedral. Bishop of Exeter,
1560,
1529.
f Vicar of Ringwood.
1530.
& Rector of Kingston; after-
wards Conduct of the College.
h Canon of Windsor.
1531.
iOne of the Esquire Bedells,
and Registrar of the University.
k Printer to Queen Elizabeth,
and gave many Books to the Col-
lege.
| Regius Professor of Physic.
m Vicar of Ringwood.
1532.
» Fellow of Eton, 1553.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1524—1532.
1528 continued.
Wilham Weston
Kdward Heynes
Jeftry Martin
John Marshall
Cyprian Thistlewast
1529.
Wilham Clerke
John Herde
fHenry Bissell
Wilham Bolland
Robert Dussing
Robert Wandley
Willam Perkin
Henry Castle
Thomas Anton
George Gibson
Robert Tuckfeild
1530:
Stephen Balley
Richard Trimble, or
Crimble
eHdmund Bovington
Christopher White-
head
Richard Blackhead
Clement Tayler
Edward Bacon
Thomas Rawlin
hbWilham Butler
Rodulph Brassy
Loot
iMatthew Stokes
Robert Hyde
kKRichard Jugge
‘Robert Pickering
m™Robert Bissell
Richard Carter
Thomas Bacon
1582.
Edward Halliwell
"Robert Avis, or Amys
Thomas Burman
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1532—1539.
1582 continued.
°Richard Wallet,
Wilhiat
John Goodson
PRichard Winch
Christopher Eton
Robert Lister
Cuthbert Metcalfe
aStephen Hopkins
‘Robert Alfeild,
Alphyn
John Castle
Anthony Hornewould
or
or
1538.
Sylvester Gardiner
sJohn Cooke
‘Thomas Gulson
uWalter Haddon
Roger Dallison
YNicholas Tubman, or
Tubrian
“John Long
Richard Pallady
Richard Gallis
xRobert Glover
William Clavell
1534.
YRodulph Calfeild
Wilham Hodgshon
John Outread
Peter March
Henry Corbett
George Pott
James Rivett
George Foxe
Peter Nicholas
John Burrell
Henry Parre
1535.
James Biddle
Wilham Langham
Humphrey Dyke
John Smyth
John Tylward
Robert Baxter
1532 continued.
° Fellow of Eton,1545.
P Vice Provost. .-
qa Vice Provost. Chaplain to
Cardinal Pole, Archbishop of
Canterbury.
r Lower Master of Eton, 1541.
1533.
* Master of St. Paul’s School.
Rector of Cottisnall and Hastead.
t Vicar of Wotton Wawen.
« Regius Professor of Civil Law.
Master of Trinity Hall in Edw.
Vith’s reign. Vice Chancellor
in 1549. In 1552, President of
Magdalen College,Oxford, though
unqualified by the Statutes; re-
signed it the following year. A
Privy Councillor to Queen Eliza-
beth. A Master of the Court of
Requests. Died in 1572.
Y Rouge Croix and Lancaster
Herald at arms.
w Archbishop of Armagh, Pri-
mate of Ireland.
x A Martyr to the Reformation.
Burnt to death at Coventry, 20th.
Sept. 1555.
1534.
y Clerk of the Council in Wales
to Edw. VI.
1535.
« Fellow of Eton, Jan. 24, 1567
1536.
4 Vice Provost.
b Almoner to Queen Elizabeth.
Bishop of Rochester in 1559,
of Salisbury in 1571. Also Arch-
deacon of Canterbury.
1537
¢ Registrar of the College.
4'Vicar of Prescott. Preben-
dary of Lichfield.
1538.
€¢ Tenth Provost ot King’s, June
5, 1538. See List of Provosts.
f Lower Master of Eton, 1542.
¢ A Martyr to the Reformation.
Burnt to death at Coventry, Feb.
8, 1556.
h Vicar of Babraham, Cam-
bridgeshire. A Martyr to the
Reformation. Burnt to death on
Jesus Green, Cambridge, April 2
1556.
1539.
1 Jester to King Hen. VIII.
29
1935 continued.
Edward Foster
ZJohn Wells
1536.
Kdward Aglonby
John Rookes
Clement Adams
aWilham Wincke
Robert Columbell
bEdmund Gheast, or
Guest
1537.
‘Rodolph Holland
AWilliam Whitlocke
Robert Bowyer
Thomas Hynge
Hierome Bernard
Wilham Buckley
Michael Goodall
Thomas Leigh
Augustine Cobbe
Thomas Horton
1538.
William Foxe
George Day
Wilham Rogers
‘Thomas Fuller,
Hurland
John Walker
Sliawrence Saunders
John Sadler
John Skidmore
Christopher Langton
John Gravenor
hJohn Hullier, o7 Ful-
her
or
1539.
; J ohn Hanford
Wyberd
Gilbert Curren
i John Pace
30
1540.
Wilham Pury
Rodulph Rippington
John Utley
John Lynne
Wilham Lodge
Thomas Gilby, or
Guibie
kMatthew Page
Jeffery Emerson
Richard Day
1Philp Baker
Richard Nudigate
1541.
John Denham
Roger Younge
John Glascocke
Richard Webb
Christopher Jenny
Roger Mansfeild
John Ashfeild
Rodulph Waller
Wilham Boyton
John Goldingham
Robert Thirkit
mThomas Wilson
Thomas Gardiner
Robert Cole
Edward Brocklesby
1542.
Nicholas Legge
15438.
Francis Watson
William Tusser, or
Tucker
Henry Nichols
nMatthew Maperly
James Skidmore
1544.
Roger Clive, or Klive
oKidward Therkelde
PJohn Stokes
John Symcotes, o7
Symeotts
1540.
k Fellow of Eton, Jan. 31, 1561.
| Fourteenth Provost of King’s,
Dec. 12, 1558. See List of Pro-
vosts.
1541.
m Master of St. Catherine’s Hos-
pital. Secretary of State to Queen
Klizabeth. Ambassador to Mary
Queen of Scots. Also sent into
the Low Countries. Dean of Dur-
ham, 1579. Died 1581.
1543.
n Master of Grantham School.
1544.
° Archdeacon of Carlisle, 1567.
Chancellor of the Diocese of
Hereford. Vicar of Tenbury.
P Public Orator, 1557.
1545.
a4 Eleventh Provost of Eton,
1561. See List of Provosts.
1546:
tT Fellow of Eton. See List of
Fellows. Was Vice Provost, and
died in King’s College.
* Prebendary of Hereford.
t Master of the Mercer’s School
in London.
« Lower Master of Eton, 1571.
1547.
VY Rector of Munxton. Preben-
dary of Salisbury.
w Fellow of Eton, 1567.
1548.
x Removed to Oxford, and Stu-
dent of Christ Church in 1555.
Head Masterof Merchant Tailors’
School; afterwards of St. Paul’s.
Rector of Stamford Rivers, Essex.
y Usher of St. Paul’s School.
2 Fellow of Eton in 1559. Rec-
tor of Piddlehinton. See List of
Fellows.
aA Civilian of the Court of
Arches.
b Prebendary of Canterbury,
and in 1573 Canon of Windsor.
Archdeacon of Northumberland,
1560. Died 1590. Buried at
Windsor, where is his epitaph.
¢ Fellow of Eton, 1566. Rector
of Everdon.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1540—1548.
1545,
aWilham Day
John Baker
Wiliam Temple
Nicholas Carvill, or
Carnill
Wilham Symcotes
William Daniel
Robert Ravell
George White
1546.
Thomas Roberts
rAllen Parre
John Rowse
sEdward Cooper
Robert Hottoff
Miles Lakett
John Seaman
Thomas Lewis
‘Richard Martindale
Henry Overton
uRichard Greene
Thomas Bushfeild
EDW. VI.
1547.
John Harpenny
Thomas Hawford
Thomas Kirkby
vVChristopher Rookes
Richard Aldrich
wJohn Welles
Thomas Arden
Robert Pravis
William Edgcombe, or
Kgcombe
1548.
xRichard Muleaster
yYChristopher Houlden
ZCharles Fitz-waters
‘Anthony Morton
Adrian Scroope
Wilham Turkinton
Thomas Hartley
bWilham King
‘John Barker
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1548—1556.
1548 continued.
Francis Cooper
Rodolph Waddington
¢Wilham Malyn
Robert Commander
Benjamin Ager
1549.
George Walker
€William Masters
Robert Sharpe
Edward Scott
Richard Wyar
fGuthlacke Cordall
John Bert
SThomas Noake
1550.
kThomas Browne
John Clerke
iGregory Scott
Thomas Senhouse
Thomas Popeson
Richard Hall
William Rust
Wilham Brisley
J William Ward
oolk
kThomas Rust
Henry Kempe
Robert Scroope
Leonard Barker
John Lynne
Wilham Johnson
!Richard Dixon
Richard Adams
Matthew Shaddock
Peter Place
mWilliam Howgrave
Edward Bagshaw
Nicholas Sturly
John Hookes
nAnthony Little
1552.
Andrew Sumpner
Thomas Reeve
George Reynolds
1548 continued.
¢ Head Master of Eton, 1561.
1549.
e Public Orator, 1563 ; in which
capacity he addressed Queen Eli-
zabeth in 1654.
f Rector of Coltishall.
& Fellow of Eton, 1561. See the
List of Fellows.
/ 1550.
hk Head Master of Westminster,
and Prebendary there. Rector
of Dunton Waylett, Essex.
i Prebendary of Carlisle.
j Regius Professor of Physic.
Physician to Queen Elizabeth,
and James Ist.
1551.
k Master of Chelmsford School.
| Rector of Horstead, Norfolk.
m Rector of Longstanton, Cam-
bridgeshire.
n Rector of Wotton Wawen.
1552.
° Master of Durham School.
P Master of Stevenage School.
1553.
aq Master of Trinity Hall. He
acted in the Tragedy of Dido so
well before Queen Elizabeth, when
at Cambridge, that she gave him
£20. a year.
1354.
r Dean of the Arches.
s Fellow of Eton, 1563.
1555.
t Fifteenth Provost of King’s,
1569. See List of Provosts.
«A learned Antiquarian. He
first published this Catalogue, to
the year 1572.
v Public Orator, 1573 to 1580.
Chancellor of Ely.
1556.
w Fellow of Eton in 1568. See
the List of Fellows.
«'Town Clerk of Cambridge.
y Fellow of Eton in 1565. See
List of Fellows.
z Rector of Farnham Royal.
Canon of Windsor, 1571.
P
oil
1552 continued.
PWilham Fryar
John Waller, or Wal-
ker
William Cobbe, ov
Colley
Christopher Waller
Christopher Tomson
William Evered
Christopher Drury
John Taylour
MARY.
1558.
Wilham Wendover
dThomas Preston
Thomas Beauley
Thomas Burton
George Smith
1554.
Hugh Allmgton
Richard Haddocke
Wilham Lister
Nicholas Bilson
‘Bartholomew Clerke
SThomas Smith
LD 5D).
‘Roger Goade
Hugh Culme
Thomas Burman
“Thomas Hatcher
Thomas Chapman
John Cooke
VYRichard Bridgewater,
or Bridwater
1556.
Wilham Berd
WWilliam Wickham
xHdward Ball
Wilham Smyth
Robert Truslowe
yJohbn Wolward
Robert Rowland
Thomas Smith
Roger Browne
O2
1556 continued.
Thomas Boynton
John EKlmes
1557,
Robert Dancer
aRobert Sparke
Thurston Shaw
Thomas Barwicke
George Rudstone
Francis Moore
bJames Cole
1558.
Edward Cooke
Philp Hayes
cRodolph Leaver
Peter Wiliams
John Bird
Thomas Ailworth
dReuben Sherwood
ELIZABETH.
1559.
¢Richard Ayland
fWilhiam Harman
€Hugh Blythe
hAbraham Hartwell
John Forfett
Edward Langton
Francis Howling
John Nudigate
Thomas Welsh
'Thomas Pauley
kNicholas Gibson
John Crompton
Edward Scott
1560.
Ambrose Forth
Matthew Alley
1Robert Holbeame
Michael Halsall
Ezechiel Harlow
Richard Pickering
George Langton
John Unett
mHenry Hayes
1557.
@ Rector of Burbage, Leicester-
shire.
b Vice Provost, and afterwards
Vicar of Ringwood.
1558.
ec Archdeacon of Northumber-
land, 1566. Prebendary of Dur-
ham, 1567. Rector of Stanhope,
1575.
d Head Master of Eton, 1571.
Afterwards M.D. and an eminent
practitioner at Bath.
1559.
e Rector of Coltishall and Hor-
stead.
f Prebendary of Norwich.
¢ Head Master of Eton. Canon
of Windsor, 1572. Rector of
Appleby, Leicestershire, and
Archdeacon of Leicester.
h Rector of Tuddington, Beds.
i Rector of Sandwich, Kent.
k Rector of Dunton Waylett.
1560.
| Rector of Ellisworth, Cam-
bridgeshire.
m Vice-Provost. Rector of
Stour Provost in 1589.
1561.
" Fellow of Eton, 1572. Rector
of Everdon.
° Vicar of Chalk, Wilts.
P Fellow of Eton, 1572.
List of Fellows.
4 Rector of East and West
Wretham.
See
1562.
r Vicar of Ringwood.
* Afterwards Conduct of the
College.
t Vicar of Westhampstead,Som-
erset.
« Master of Bury St. Edmund’s
School.
15638.
Y Prebendary of Lincoln. Rec-
tor of Stilton.
1564.
w Fellow of Eton, 1582. Vice-
Provost, and Rector of Petworth.
« Vicar of Cardington, Beds.
y Vicar ot Fordingbridge.
Archbishop of Armagh, Pri-
mate and Metropolitan of Ire-
land. A profound Scholar.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1556—1564.
1561.
Robert Aldrich
nMatthew Bust
John Archer
Thomas Anton
Richard Wyld
Thomas Orams
Michael Horne
Hdmund Burwell
Wilham Brumsted
Philip Merwyn
Thomas Woodnett
PBaldwin Collins
Stephen Watton
John Ivery
qdRobert Cunny
1562:
rOsmund Lakes
Edward Bourchier
John Gravate
SNicholas Rookes
Roger Garrett
Matthew Chalsent
tRobert Wolsall
Thomas Chambers
Richard Croswell
John Caldwell
“Philip Mandevill
Thomas Foster
Wiliam Younge
1563.
VEdward Jermine
Augustine Dyke
Robert Draper
John Dancer
Baldwin Johnson
Nicholas Edwards
Wilham Mount
1564.
wAlexander Bound
xThomas Watts
Charles Kirkham
Simon Bougham
yYWilhiam Henson
“John Longe
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1564—1575.
1564 continued.
“John Browne
George Drywood
Robert Dunninge
iGo:
Stephen Lakes
bSamuel Flemming
¢Giles Fletcher
John Hunt
Thomas Bound
Wilham Dorrington
dThomas Ridley
Robert Johnson
eGeorge Anton
Robert Castle
Thomas Turswell
1566.
No places.
1567.
f Clare Haddon
Robert Lylesse
John King
Thomas Gravate
Adam Rose
Thomas Beadle
hHidward Spooner
1568.
i John Osborne
Wilham Dyer
Charles Bull
J Thomas Mountford
Joseph Amys
Robert Sharpe
Thomas Aufeild
John Gibson
1569.
Philip Baker
Benjamin Cooper
Christopher Goad
Thomas Hunt
Thomas Leonard
kThomas Browne
1564 continued.
4Rector of Farnham Royal.
Canon of Windsor.
1565.
b Rector of Cottenham, Cam-
bridgeshire, and Bosworth in the
vale of Belvoir. Prebendary of
Southwell.
¢ Employed by Queen Eliza-
beth as Commissioner in Scot-
land, and Germany. Ambassador
to Russia. Master of the Court
of Requests. Treasurer of St.
Paul’s.
4 Head Master of Eton from
1579 to 1582. Afterwards a Mas-
ter in Chancery. Knighted by
James Ist.
¢ Recorder of Lincoln.
1567.
f Drowned in the Cam.
& Lower Master of Eton, 1573
to 1597.
h Rector of Kingston.
1568.
‘ A Knight. He conscientiously
restored an Impropriation to the
Church ; and was such a friend
to the Clergy, that he would
never receive a fee from a Clergy-
man.
j Physician to Queen Elizabeth,
and James Ist.
1569.
k Rector of Piddlehinton, Dor-
setshire.
1570.
' King’s Professor of Civil Law,
and Master of Trinity Hall. Vicar
General to Bancroft, Archbishop
ot Canterbury.
m Expelled the College. After-
wards Master of St. Paul’sSchool.
" Fellow ot Eton, 1583. See
List of Fellows.
© Vice Provost. Vicarof Prescot.
P Vice Provost. Rector of Dit-
chingham, Norfolk.
Lois
aq Public Orator from 1589 to
to 1594. One of the first Bur-
gesses in Parliament for the
University in 1605, and had 5s. a
day for his expenses.
r Vice Provost, and Rector of
Stour Provost.
1572.
s Rector of Toft Monks with
Haddiscoe.
1573.
t Master of the Free School at
Lincoln. Provost of Trinity Coll.
Dublin, in 1609. Knighted by the
Lord St. John, Deputy of Ire-
land. Master in Chancery in
Ireland.
"Vice Provost.
Scholar.
v Seventeenth Provostof King’s,
1612. See List of Provosts.
aia
w Physicianto Queen Elizabeth,
and James Ist.
An excellent
x Vice Provost. Rector of
Hampden, and Chesham, Bucks.
y Vice Provost. Rector of
Kingston. Then Vicarof Halstead.
Rector of Dunton Waylett.
@ Rector of Wotton Wawen.
33.
1570.
lJohn Cowell
™ John Harrison
oAdam Robyns
°Thomas Meade
PNicholas Foster
John Picherell
Henry Smith
Lave
John Smith
Richard Day
dHenry Mowtlowe
‘John Turner
Roger Gouldinge
Thomas Thomas
Nai 2:
Henry Sitterne
George Pawlett
sPhiip Ansham
Thomas Whardall
Michael Hill
John Clerke
William Brooke
1573.
tWilham Temple
John Westley
Thomas Reddinge
“John Barnes
YWilham Smith
1574:
Christopher Osborne
Nicholas Osborne
Hugh Parlour
Humphry Beaumont
1575.
wEKdward Lister
Francis Bartie
xRichard Woodcocke
Thomas Noakes
George Mascall
YRichard Moore
zWilham Kettle
2John Marscall
F
34
1576,
Jasper Jermine
Wilham Younge
‘John Jenison
‘Edward Sharpe
cLionell Sharpe
Henry Hodgkins
Thomas Colley
Henry Monke
John Cliffe
John Greenhall
1577.
Caleb Kempe
Edward Bartie
Nicholas Bestney
Thomas Moncke
€Richard Ansham
Robert Bunting
Wilham Naylour
John Howson
! Francis Spooner
Walter Darrell
Henry Osborne
1578.
Thomas Bates
Benjamin Bestney
Robert Waller
Rodolph Hope
Henry Allen
Wilham Harrmgton
€William Burton
Richard Goad.
1579.
hRowland Hill
Daniel Barker
i Anthony Wotton
Richard Harrison
George Bagsett
Nicholas Lodge
kHenry Bannister
Basil Beacon
Joseph Jesope
|
‘Gresham College.
‘Barking Church, London.
1576.
b Vice Provost. Rector of Stow-
Nine-Churches, Northampton-
shire.
¢ Rector of Malpas, Cheshire,
and Tiverton, Devon. Chaplain
to Henry Prince of Wales. Arch-
deacon of Berks.
1577.
d Vice Provost. Rector of Bey-
ton, Suffolk.
e Rectorof Cranford, Middlesex.
f Rector of Lessingham.
1578.
& Regius Professor of Physic.
1579.
h Prebendary of Lincoln.
i First Professor of Divinity in
Lecturer at
k Vice Provost. Died Fellow,
1617 ; buried in the Chapel.
1580.
| Head Master of Eton, 1594—
1610. Canon of Windsor, May
19, 1615 ; died 4 days afterwards.
m Rector of Welford, Berks.
Canon of Windsor, 1614.
158).
2 A Knight.
° Vice Provost. Rector of Co)-
tishall and Horstead.
P Rector of Tiverton.
qa Rector of Rainham, Norfolk.
r Vicar of Long Sutton, Cam-
bridgeshire.
1582.
s Fellow and Vice Provost of
iiton, 1592. Rector of Everdon.
1583.
‘ Fellow of the College of Phy-
sicians. Son of Fox the ‘ Mar-
tyrologist.”’
« Regius Professor of Hebrew.
Chaplain to James Ist.
v Rector of Hockley in the hole,
Beds.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1576—1583.
1580.
Gregory Isham
Thomas Smith
William Jenison
‘Richard Langley
Edmund Sheafe
Robert Gardiner
John Dollinge
m'|"homas Sheafe
Henry Barbar
Simon T'emple
1581.
Robert Sparke
Peter Chapman
°Richard Sutton
Wilham Mountague
Humphry Cruis
Philp Leigh
PWilham Sharpe
Edward Finch
aSamuel Gardiner
"Thomas Clerke
John Smith
1582.
Thomas Browne
Wilham Sheppard
Wilham Mosley
Lionell Randall
Robert Whitel,
White
SWilham Harrison
Thomas Crowch
or
1583.
William Chace
John Rookes
George Wroth
‘Simon Fox
Edward Hobart
John Duckett
Luke Baxter
Samuel Johnson
“Jeffery King
VThomas Bentham
John Holland
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1584—1595. OD
1584.
John Hatcher
Robert Nowell
George Barnes
wWThomas Vincent
xHumphry
Richard Smith
William Wilson
yYWilham Lisle
Loca
Roger Goad
Thomas Jenison
Richard Crowch
1586.
aThomas Morison
‘Roger Gostwyke
Thomas Lancaster
‘Fogg Newton
Tos7-
dMiles Raven
H. Glass
€George Elliot
John Lancaster
f Abraham Bidle
¢Robert Osbaston
1583.
Thomas Bennett
Dorsett Bowser
hHenry Beadle
i Robert Warde
kThomas Ram
Henry Lynn
1589.
1 Richard Lancaster
mNicholas Marshe
nKdward Lynn
1590.
Samuel Hieron
Richard Day
William Faidoe
PHenry Rigge
Harman Sheafe
‘Tredwaye
in 1610. See List of Provosts.
| tishall and Horstead.
1584.
~ Rector of Denham, Bucks.
x Vice Provost. Rector of
Little Offord, Hunts.
y A great antiquarian. Esquire
of the King’s Body.
1585.
Sometime Conduct of the
College.
1586.
a2 Regius Professor of Civil
Law.
b Vice Provost. Afterwards
Rector of Sampford Courtenay.
¢ Sixteenth Provost of King’s
1587.
4 Rector of Munxton, Hants.
€ Rector of Speldhurst, Kent.
f Rector of Castle Campo, Cam-
bridgeshire.
g Kector of Kingston.
1588.
» Rector of Puttenham, Surrey.
i Prebendary of Chichester.
Rector of Bishop's Waltham,
Hants.
k Prebendary of Dublin. Dean
of Cork. Bishop of Leighlin and
Ferns.
1589.
!'Vice Provost. Chaplain to
Henry Prince of Wales.
m Rector of Battlesden, Beds.
n Rector of Mellerworth,
Hunts.
1590.
° Vicar of Modbury. 2 vols. of
Sermons of his are extant.
P Vicar of Croydon.
1591.
4 Master of Wakefield School.
r Kighteenth Provost of King’s
in 1615. See List of Provosts.
1592.
* Rector of Milton. Prebendar y
of Wolverhampton. Precentor
of St. Paul’s. Afterwards Rector
of Hadleigh. Prebendary of Win-
chester. At the Synod of Dort,
1619.
t Vice Provost. Vicar of Pres-
cot.
u Fellow of Eton, 1612.
v¥ Prebendary of Lichfield.
w Vice Provost. Rector of Toft
Monks with Hadscoe.
x Rector of Albury, Surrey. A
gvreat Mathematician.
1593.
vy Head Master of Eton, 1611—
1629.
Vice Provost. Rector of Col-
1591.
Matthew Goad
dRobert Saunders
Thomas Sanford, o7
Samford
rSamuel Collins
John Bosome
1592.
‘Thomas Goad
tJohn Alden
Thomas Ward
w|homas Weaver
Richard Cooke
Robert Redmer
“Thomas Taylor, or
Taylour
John Griffin
wThomas Langley
xWilham Outred
1593.
yMatthew Bust
William Woodier
“Henry Howgrave
Wiliiam Sclater
Elnathan Parr
1594.
Robert Goad
bEdward Hinde
John Bouser
c})aniel Collins
dWilliam Paske
John Milton
Thomas Porter
eThomas Griffin
1594. |
> Rector of Dunton Waylett. |
¢Hellow of Eten, 1616. See!
List of Fellows. |
¢Prebendary of St. Paul’s.
Vicar of Hendon,
¢ Rector of Stour Provost.
f Fellow of Eton, 1613.
1595.
g Prebendary of Worcester.
Rector of Bromsgrove. Chaplain
to K. James Ist.
bh Vicar of Banbury, Oxon. and
Backway, Cambridgeshire.
‘Canon Residentiary,
Archdeacon of Wells, in 1611.
k Minister of St. Ann’s, Black-
friars, for 45 years.
and
f Richard Mountague
a) De
eJ ohn Archbold
Thomas Fenn
hPbhomas Bradbury
i Gerard Wood
kWillam Gouge
William ‘Tayler, or
Taylour
Reginald Sharrock
F 2
36
1596.
1William Warberton
mArthur Johnson
1597.
Caleb Tayler, or Tay-
lour
James Bickerstaff
2Hdmund Woodall
John Smithson
Francis Wyvell
Edmund Hinde
1598.
“Thomas Hearn, or
Hieron
PJohn Sclater
qRichard Bateman
TWilliam Barlow
SHdward Kellett
‘Thomas Browne
Wilham Wyvell
uKdmund Wilson
Thomas Sewell
599:
vGeorge Smith
Wilham Jones
Thomas Scamp
William Woodford
Savage Hawarden
William Littleton
wJohn Norton
1600.
William Bush
Phinees Fletcher
Edmund Cooke
1601.
Roger Goad
Osbert Moundetord, 0”
Mountford
James Lake
1602.
“Albert Morton
1596.
| Vicar of Long Compton, War-
wickshire.
m Vice-Provost; died in that
office.
1597.
"Registrar of the Prerogative
Court.
1598.
° Vicar of Leominster, Sussex.
P Rector of Church Lawford,
Warwickshire.
4 Fellow of Eton, 1619.
r Prebend of Southwell.
s Canon of Exeter. Rector of
Crowcombe, Somerset.
t Rector of East Wretham
«Canon of Windsor, but not
being ordained Priest, was de-
prived within a year.
1599.
v Prebendary of Rochester.
w Vice-Provost. Rector of Dun-
ton Wallett.
1602.
* Nephew of Sir Henry Wot-
ton, and with him in his embassy
to Venice. Knighted in 1617. A
Clerk of the Council, and Secre-
tary of State.
1603.
y Vicar of Modbury.
z Lower Master of Eton, 1611 to
1617. Rector of Piddlehinton.
@ Rector of Weedon Fonkney,
Northamptonshire: he suffered
severely from the Parliamentary
soldiery in 1643.
> Fellow of Eton, 1622.
1604.
© Vicar of Ringwood.
1605.
d Vicar of Chalke, Wilts.
e Vicar of Newington, Kent.
Prebendary of Rochester.
1606.
f Vice-Provost. Vicar of For-
dingbridge.
§ Rector of Lankenthorne,
Cornwall.
h Rector of Threxton, Norfolk.
' Vice-Provost.
1607.
k Esquire of the Body to K.
Charles Ist.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1596—1608.
JAMES l.
1603.
Ezekiel Clarke
YRobert Haldesworth,
or Howlsworth
Richard Moundeford,
or Mountford
William Otes, or
Oates
aWilliam Losse,
Lesse
John Collins
bJohn Smith
or
1604.
Francis Ventris
Henry Wilkinson
John Glover
‘Thomas Holt
William Rowe
George Bosevill
Boswell
Samuel Whitaker
3
1605.
Samuel Bust
Thomas King.
John Wilson
dWalter Waller
John Shotbolt
€Matthew Donat
1606.
' Philip Clifford
Edward Swane
©Theophilus W oodnoth
or W oodnett
William Bagley
‘Humphrey Bing
1607.
KSamuel Savil
Henry Bell
Christopher Goad
1608.
Henry Atye
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1608—1618.
1608 continued.
Wilham Browne
Richard Jenour
Thomas Johnson
' Henry Wickham
1609.
mKdward Purefee, or
Purefoy
James King
Robert Peyton
Robert Clavering
Robert Swane
Richard Holt
“Thomas Williamson
1610.
Richard Goad
Phhp Garway, or
Garroway
°Cuthbert Peirson
Jonas Garway,
Garroway
or
1611.
Randall Gilpin
PThomas Goad
Jonathan Negus
Richard Hill
Edward Dacres
qThomas Rowe
1612.
TRobert Austen
SRobert Willmott
Richard Alderson
Nathaniel Vincent
tHenry Molle
Leonard Kemp
1613.
John Ingram
Humphrey Meredith
Christopher Goad
Joseph Lovering
uJ. Willet
vYEdmund Dickinson
wMartin Freeman
|
1608.
!Prebendary of Southwell.
Archdeacon and Prebendary of
York. Chaplain in ordinary to
King Charles Ist.
1609.
™ Rector of Batesford, Glou-
cestershire.
n Rector of Beckingham, Lin-
colnshire.
1610.
° Vice-Provost.
Rector of Kingston.
Afterwards
1611.
P Reader of Logic, 1620. Vice-
Provost. Advocate of the Arches
Court. Regius Professor of Civil
Law.
a Vice-Provost. Prebendary of
Wells. Vicar of Fordingbridge.
1612.
¥ Chaplain to Abbot, Arch-
bishop of Canterbury. Rector of
Harbaldowne and _ Aldington,
Kent.
* Vicar of Clare, Essex.
t Vice-Provost. Public Orator,
1639 to 1650.
1613.
« Rector of Chigwell, Essex.
v Rector of Stour-Minster
Marshall, Dorset ; deprived by
the Parliament.
wAn eminent Scholar. He
kept an Act before James Ist. and
the Duke of Buckingham.
x Rector of Newton, and Vicar
of Harston, Cambridgeshire.
1614.
y Vicar of Fordingbridge.
Ejected by the Parliament.
z Prebendary of Southwell.
Rector of Barton, Notts; de-
prived by the Parliament.
1615.
4 Rector of Cheriton, Hants.
b Employed as Secretary to Sir
Dudley Carlton, when Ambassa-
dor to the Low Countries.
Knighted, and a Clerk of the
Council in 1637.
¢ Vicar of Stoke Gursey, Som-
erset.
4 Rector of Piddlehinton, Dor-
set.
1616.
e Deprived in 1627 for dis-
obedience to the Vice Provost
and Dean.
f Rector of Toft Monks
Haddiscoe.
g Regius Professor of Physic.
1617.
h Fellowship refused.
i Mathematical Reader in the
University.
and
1618.
k Rector of Sefton, Lancashire.
Prebendary of Chester ; deprived
by the Parliament ; restored in
1660.
O77
1613 continued.
XDaniel Dent
George Langdale
Oliver Leigh
1614.
James Theobald
John Wolrich
Edmund Sheafe
YJohn Cuffe
Richard Hearn
ZBarnabas Barlow
1615.
alrancis Carter
John Sayre
Andrew Harward
bDudley Carlton
Richard Meredith
Robert Kilhgrew
‘Thomas Clavering
James Anton
William Bonham
dRichard Cole
Francis Good
1616.
Henry Smith
eSamuel Weale
f Richard Peters
Josias Griffith
Ralph Winterton
Charles Denny
Henry Stubbs
1617.
hWilliam Barrett
Walter Carter
i William Aufeild
1618.
Leonard Poe
Jobn Lister
John Burrell
Ralph Flood
Peter Salmon
William Berkely
KKdward Moreton
08
Tors.
No Places.
1620.
‘George Goad
Edward Nevill
mMWilhiam Brice
“Nicholas Hobart
1621.
James Poe
John Sheafe
Richard Johnson
Samuel Wotton
1622.
PGeorge Pearce,
Price
aRichard Day
‘J. Parat
SKHdward Hawtrey
Charles Barker
Thomas Fisher
Thomas Bonham
1623.
‘Henry Vintner
John Dorrington
4John Sloper
YJames Fleetwood
Wymond Carew
wSamuel Burrell
xRichard Carpenter
Thomas Mills
yWilliam Norrice
1624.
ZRichard Williams
Edward Abbots
Wilham Younge
aDove Williamson
bWilham Day
CHARLES Il.
1625.
‘John Younge
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1619—1630.
or
——
1620.
'Fellow of Eton, 1648. See
List of Fellows. Continued this
Catalogue from 1621 to 1646.
(Dr. Goodall.)
m Vicar of Henley on Thames.
n Secretary to Sir Thomas Ben-
dish. Ambassador at Constan-
tinople. A Benefactor to King’s
and Eton.
1621.
° Rector of East and West
Wretham.
1622.
P Rector of Tiverton.
sufferer in the Rebellion.
4 Vicar of Prescott.
r Not in Allen’s Catalogue.
s Vicar of Burnham and of
Denham, Bucks.
1623.
‘Rector of Sampford Court-
enay, Devonshire.
« Vicar of Broad Chalke, Wilts.
v Twentieth Provost of King’s,
1660. See List of Provosts.
w Vicar of Poling, Sussex.
x Alternately Papist and Pro-
testant three times.
y Lower Master of Eton, 1631.
Head Master, 1636.
1624.
« Prebendary of Lincoln. Vicar
of Gainsborough.
4 Lost his leg by a cannon shot
in the King’s service at Newark.
b Vicar of Mapledurham,Oxon.
1625.
¢ Rector of Lessingham, Nor-
folk.
4 Vicar of St. Sepulchre’s, Lon-
don ; ejected in 1662 for non-con-
formity.
A great
1626.
e Twice Member of Parliament
for the University.
f Rector of St. Stephen’s, Exe-
ter, and Prebendary of Exeter.
ێ Rector of Coltishall with
Horstead. Afterwards Arch-
deacon, Canon, and Prebendary
of Wells.
1627.
h Rector of Staplehurst, Kent.
+ Conduct of Eton College.
k Vice-Provost in 1655. Ofthe
family of the Earls of Aberga-
venny.
1628.
‘Knight. Twenty-first Provost
of King’s, 1675. See List of Pro-
vosts.
1629.
m Rector of Sampford Court-
enay.
"A Gentleman of the King’s
Cnapel, and an excellent musi-
cian.
° Became Fellow of University
College, Oxford, in 1654. Then
M.D. at Leyden. Fellow of the
College of Physicians.
P Vicar of Wotton Wawen.
1 Rector of Cowley and Icken-
ham, Middlesex.
1630.
r Vicar of Everdon; deprived
by the Parliament. Prebendary
of St. Paul’s, after the Restora-
tion.
s Vicar of Burnham, Bucks.
‘ Killed at the siege of Glou-
cester, on the side of the King.
f
1625 continued.
George Hall
dThomas Gouge
Willoughby Dacres
1626.
Thomas Rhodes
John Wotton,
Watton
“Thomas Crowch
f William Slatter
€Grindall Sheafe
Edward Alexander
Charles Lyle
or
1627.
Henry Edmonds
hHenry Kent
i John Jones
kCharles Nevile
1628.
Robert Peirce
Robert Newman
Henry Whiston
!'Thomas Page
Richard Juxon
1629.
George Hatton
John Beale
myJohn Anstey 0%
Anstea
Edmund Woodcocke
ORichard Grifith
PGeorge Dunscombe
qWilham Beare
16380.
William Fairebrother
Isaac Oliver
"Matthew Day
sJoseph Brookes
James Knowles
‘Sampson Brigges
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 163]—1644.
1631.
“Henry Peirce
Robert Clarke
John Waller
vYRichard Younge
wThomas Gearing
16382.
Thomas Mountague
yCharles Mason
2John Pearson,
Person
William Rawson
Francis Duncombe
aflenry Bard
or
1633.
bJohn Williams
cHdward Penruddocks
Christopher Whitwell
dWiliam Barlow
Nicholas Moore
1634.
Gideon Ashwell, or
Rikwell
¢Anthony Ascham
f Samuel Collins
gOliver Doyley
1635.
James Colins
Laurence Lyster,
| Syster
Thomas Almond
John Bynge
hWilliam Franklyn
or
1636.
John Woodhall
Benjamin Rudyard
Stephen Anstey
i William Whitwell
John Barbar
1637.
kWilliam Ross
1641. ™ Twenty-second Provost of King’s, 1681.
v Vicar of Ringwood.
1642, &c. * Vicar of
Restoration.
y A Lieutenant in the King’s Service.
1631.
« Killed at Bridgewater, 1645,
in the King’s Service.
v Rector of East and West
Wretham.
w Vice Provost for 28 years.
Died 1694, et. 83.
1632.
x Lower Master of Eton, 1647—
1658. Head Master, 1660. Fellow
in 1671.
y Rector of Stour Provost. Pre-
bendary of St. Paul’s and Salis-
bury.
Kxposition of the Creed pub-
lished in 1659. Prebendary of
Ely. Archdeacon of Surrey. Mas-
ter of Jesus, 1660. Margaret
Professor of Divinity, 1661. Mas-
ter of Trinity, 1662. Bishop of
Chester, 1673. Died 1686.
@ Actively employed for Charles
Ist. during the civil war; at
Naseby. Knighted in 1643. Soon
afterwards a Baronet, and July
8, 1645, created Baron Bombry
and Viscount Bellamont in I[re-
land. Employed by Charles
IInd. in Persia, and there died.
1633.
b Actively engaged in the ser-
vice of Charles Ist.
¢ Imprisoned in the Tower for
serving the King.
d Rjected for his loyalty by the
Parliament, 1644.
1634.
e Tutor to James Duke of York,
afterwards James IInd. Resident
in Spain, and murdered at Ma-
drid.
f Member of the College of
Physicians. Admitted of New
College, Oxon. Physician to the
Czar of Russia. Died at Paris.
g Vice Provost.
1635.
h Deprived by the Parliament ;
he afterwards apostatized, took
the Covenant, and was restored,
Feb. 21, 1647.
1636.
i Served Charles Ist.
field.
1637.
k In the King’s Service.
1 Rector of Munxton. D.D. by
Royal mandate.
m Frequently Vice-Provost.
n Captain of a troop of horse in
the King’s service.
1638.
° Killed at Berkeley Castle in
the King’s Service.
1639.
Pp Member of Parliament for
Andover, 1660. Knighted by
Charles IInd. 1681.
q Reader of Logic in the Uni-
versity, 1648. Vicar of Prescott.
r Rector of Dunton Waylett.
1640.
s Killed at Newark, being Cap-
tain of a troop in the King’s Ser-
vice.
t Vice-Provost in 1655.
in the
39
1637 continued.
'Kdward Styles
samuel Farley
Theophilus Brereton
mM atthew Barlow
OWilliam Raven
1638.
John Bennet
oJames Eyre
1639.
PJohn Collins
Albert Morton
John Akaster
Thomas Everitt
Arthur Swayne
John Wythens
rHdward Larkin
1640.
Laurence Rooks
SCharles Howard
‘Hdmund Wintener
Thomas Jones
Ralph Taylour
Francis Wyat
1641.
"John Coplestone
YJames Sanders
wToby Hodson
William Losse
John Elly
William Clayton
164.2—3—A4.
x*Wilham Godman*
Henry Dethick
Christopher Courtman
YJohn Pradman
Hugh Losse
Francis Povey
John Smith
zWidward Staunton
Robert Wright
See List of Provosts.
w Major in the King’s army.
Ringwood; preached the Thanksgiving Sermon at St. Mary’s, for the
7 Rector of Kingston.
* Godman and the Eight following were admitted Scholars, there being no regular Election
these Years.
40
1645.
aChristopher Wase
bRichard Hunt
Ralph Flyer
eJohn Hall
Andrew Spencer
dJohn Price
eHdward Freeman
Nicholas Bridger
John Brian
Henry Some,
Soame
1646.
John Smith
f John MHoldred,
Holroyde
€Richard Pearson
John Hawtrey
George Taylor
Wilham Duncomb
1647.
Robert Austin
Robert Cobden
Simeon Sampson
Richard Edwards
hMartin Pearson
1 William Price
George Symcotts
John Bateman
1648.
Ezekiel Foxcraft
kRobert Litler
Matthew Mead
!'Theophilus Cleaver
John Meale
EK. Gray*
mJ. Herring*
CHARLES
1649.
Wilham King
Samuel Borfet
Christopher Meale
or
Or
1645.
@ An eminent and learned Au-
thor.
b Professor of Rhetoric at Gre-
sham College.
© Vicar of Fordingbridge.
4 Fellow of Eton, 1660. See
List of Fellows.
« Knighted. Of the King’s
Bedchamber.
1646.
f Rector of Dunton Waylett.
s Librarian to King Charles
IInd. Brother of John Pearson,
Bishop ot Chester.
1647.
h Brother of John Pearson,
Bishop of Chester.
i Lower Master of Eton, 1659.
Rector of Sampford Courtenay.
1648.
k Rector of Fulmer, Bucks.
! Rector of Piddlehinton, Dor-
set.
™ Rector of Hitcham, Bucks.
1649.
n Rector of Wotton Courtenay,
Somerset.
° Rector of Aklington, Kent.
P Rector of Milton, 1683.
a Rector of Toft Monks with
Hadiscoe.
1650.
r Rector of St. Alban’s, Wood
Street, and burnt out by the fire,
1666.
s Rector of Dunton Waylett :
died within a year.
t Succeeded the above at Dun-
ton Waylett.
« Rector of Tichwell, Norfolk.
v Vicar of Prescott.
w Rector of Coltishall
Horstead.
with
1651.
x Prebendary of Norwich.
1652.
vy Head Master of Shrewsbury
School.
|
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1645—1654.
1649 continued.
oJonas Mountague
oKhas Juxon
Richard Stokes
PSamuel Thomas
Clement Mayo
dCharles Ashby
1650. .
William Janeway
rWilliam Robinson
sChristopher Chalfont
tHenry Browne
uJohn Cleaver
John Janeway
William Stevens
vAbraham Ball
Edmund Anderson
Samuel Beck
J. Freeman
“iD. Warren
A. Haslenege, or
Haserigge
1651.+
xJoshua Jones
Knighly Purifey
Peter Temple
Wilham Conningesby
Ralph Compton
Hananeel Rogers
Samuel Rolt
1652.
William Constable
yYAndrew Taylor
Thomas Brinley
John Cooke
16538.
No Places.
1654:
John Russel
Thomas Rous
* These two not in MSS.——+ From this time to the RESTORATION there appears no regular
Account of the Succession of the Scholars. The Names and Years seem confused, and not to be
entirely depended upon.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1654—1667.
1654: continued.
Francis Head
ZRobert Neeve
Christopher Newstead
2John Frodsham
1655.
bWilham Hoard
John Smith
John Gerrard
1656.
Thomas Fountaine
Martin White
R. Nevile
cW. Horne
dJoseph Layton
Khas Bachelor
1657.
Wilham Perse |
Joseph Philips
Francis Doyley
Wilham Sergeant
Thomas King
Thomas Haynes
1658.
€John Powell
Thomas Rolle
f John Edwards
EThomas Horne
1659.
hEKdward Michell
i Robert Yard
kWilhiam Watkinson
1 Cresar Crouch
1660.
mJames Fleetwood
2John Allison
°George Wroth
1661.
Charles Stokes
PStephen Upman
aJohn Hawtrey
1654.
* Rector of Dunton Waylett.
4 Vicar of Modbury.
1655.
b Rector of
Marshall.
Stour-Minster
1656.
¢ Lower Master of Eton, 1662—
1670. Then Head Master of
Harrow.
¢ Vicar of Ringwood. The Duke
of Monmouth was in his Incum-
bency taken prisoner after the
battle of Sedgemoor, and carried
to the Vicarage House.
1658.
e Rector of East and West
Wretham.
f Vicar of Hambleden,
landshire.
g Fellow of Eton, 1682. Chap-
lain to Charles IInd. Rector of
Piddlehinton ; then of Clewer.
Rut-
1659.
b Rector of Sampford Courte-
nay.
i Rector of Munxton
k Vicar of Stour-Minster Mar-
shall.
| Vicar of Ringwood.
1660.
m Archdeacon of Worcester.
n Rector of Kingston.
° Rector of Dunton.
1661.
P Fellow of Eton, 1677. Pre-
bendary of Westminster.
a Fellow of Eton, 1680. Vicar
of Mapledurham.
r Fellow of Eton, 1693.
of Windsor, 1673.
5 Vicar of Prescot.
Canon
1662.
t Rector of Stour Provost.
1663.
« Lower Master of Eton, 1672—
1676, and died there.
1665.
v Fellowship refused. A.M. by
Royal Mandate.
w Rector of Piddlehinton.
x Knighted by James IInd.
y Rector of Toft Monks and
Hadiscoe.
z Rector of Stour Provost.
1667.
4 Twenty-third Provost
King’s, 1689.
vosts.
of
See List of Pro-
4.)
1661 continued.
rRobert Younge
Thomas Palmer
Thomas Wilde
SEdward Goodall
Humphrey Mansell
1662.
Merrick Head
"Thomas Stockham
Francis Phipps
George Goad
John Younge
1663.
Richard Martyn
Thomas Bonham
Matthew Rutton
1664.
John Hawtrey
George Weldon
1665.
vThomas Clopton
wNathaniel Ingelo
*John Litcot
Middleton Lanoy
yJacob Clerke
zHumphrey Newbery
Wilham Curwin
1666.
Charles Neville
Richard Elhot
Francis Harrison
Benjamin Winnington
Thomas Scargil Allen
Nathaniel Stokes
John Byrom
Hezekiah Horne
1667.
John Bowyer
aCharles Roderick
Charles Nodes
William Cleaver
42
1668.
bSimon Sayon
¢Wilham Jegon
dJohn Harteliff
Thomas Goad
€Hdmund Whitfield
1669.
fTkomas Bowyer
Jacob Barnard
Thomas Flyer
Christopher Goad
Wilham Borlase
1670.
Matthew Kerby
George Williams
Richard Franklin
John Ingelo
1671.
Knightly Chetwood
Robert Denham
Henry Savage
John Russel
James Sanders
Edward Fuller
1672.
Jefterey Amhurst
1673.
John Cotton
1 John Newborough
Alexander Stoakes
kJohn Horsenell
1674.
Edmund Barber
Thomas Laurence
1675.
'Wilham Fleetwood
Charles Elton
m™John Legg
Henry Bowles
John Layton
1668.
> Rector of Kingston.
° Rector of Swanton Mosley,
Norfolk.
d Master of Merchant Tailors’
School. Canon of Windsor, 1691.
Vicar of Twickenham,
© Fellow of Eton, 1691.
1669.
f Rector of Denham.
1670.
s Rector of Kingston.
1671.
h Archdeacon of York, 1688.
Dean of Gloucester, 1707. Cap-
tain of Montem, 1670.
1673.
‘ Lower Master at Eton, 1682.
Head Master, 1689 to 1711. Rec-
tor of Hitcham, and{buried there.
k Vicar of Fordingbridge.
1675.
! Fellow of Eton in 1691.
List of Fellows.
m Vicar of Prescot.
" Rector of Coltishall and Hor-
stead.
See
1676.
° Conduct of Eton College.
Rector of Wotton Courtenay.
1677.
P Prebendary of Lichfield.
4 Chaplain to William IIIrd,
and Queen Ann. Vicar of Dept-
ford and Lewisham, Kent. Dean
of Canterbury, 1703. Author of
many religious and pious works.
Head Master of Harrow
School for 40 year.
s Vicar of Ringwood.
1678.
‘Twenty-fourth Provost of
King’s in 1712. See List of Pro-
vosts.
« Nephew of the celebrated Ad-
miral Blake.
1679.
vY Prebendary of Lincoln. Rec-
tor of Middleton Stoney, Oxon.
w Prebendary of Winchester.
Rector of Northchurch, Herts.
* Vice-Provost, 1706. Rector
of Milton.
1680.
y Prebendary of Ely. Arch-
deacon of Norfolk, 1708. Pre-
bendary of Westminster, 1715.
Dean of Lincoln, 1721. Sub-Al-
moner to the King.
1681,
“ Rector of Toft Monks with
Hadiscoe.
4 Vicar of Broad Chalke.
bendary of Sarum.
Pre-
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1668—1681.
1675 continued.
John Child
Robert Clavering
Benjamin Slater
Thomas Spencer
Thomas Norton
1676.
Wilham Hildesly
Henry Crispe
°Ralph Combes
Robert Francklyn
Wilham Bullock
LO77e
PWilliam Bowles
George Stanhope
"Thomas Bryan
Henry Ballow
John Buller
Richard Coore
Vere Phillips
SCharles Herbert
1678.
‘John Adams
Edward James
Thomas Bradbourne
John Eman
"Robert Blake
1679.
YWilliam Offley
John Wyllys
wSamuel Noyes
Henry Burrell
*Richard Stephens
1680.
Richard Ogden
Matthew Rutton
Francis Johnson
YRobert Cannon
1681.
John Turner
(Benjamin Shipman
aHenry Austen
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 168]1—1694.
1681 continued.
George Whitton
Horsmonden Cannan
bAnthony Austen
1682.
‘Stephen Weston
Wilham White
dJoseph Rawson
Samuel Selwood
€Kdward Battie
1683.
Wilham Prestland
John West
Michael Mills
Zachariah Wells
f Thomas Johnson
1684.
ENathaniel Codding-
ton
hWilliam Reeves
Wilham Wells
‘Matthew Bookey
kHyancis Bere
1685.
l Gregory Parry
1686.
William Roswell
Anthony Reid
mGeorge Vernon
Willham Donne
DThomas Evans
John Haley
Robert Smith
1687.
Thomas Wrightson
oKldred Gael
Gilbert Dethick
PEdward Waddington
1688.
dHdward Martyn
1681 continued.
b Vicar of West Rudham, Nor-
folk.
1682.
¢ Fellow of Eton, 1707.
4 Rector of St. Stephen’s, Wal-
brook. Canon Residentiary of
Lichfield.
e Assistant at Eton,
Modbury.
Vicar of
1683.
f Assistant at Eton. Published
an Edition of Sophocles, Greek
Epigrams,andseveralother Books.
1684.
& Rector of Kast and West
Wretham.
h Vicar of St. Mary’s, Reading.
' Rector of Ramsgate.
k Vicar of Prescot.
1685.
‘ Conduct of Eton; afterwards
Assistant. Rector of Piddle-
hinton.
1686.
m Rector of Buckland, Herts.
"Fellow of Eton, 1716. See
List of Fellows.
1687.
° Assistant at Eton for several
years.
P Fellow of Eton, 1720. Bishop
of Chichester. See List of Fel-
lows.
1688.
4 Professor of
Gresham College.
r Fellow of Eton, 1712. Bishop
of St. Asaph and Chichester.
Dean of St. Paul’s. See List of
Fellows.
s Rector of Dunton Waylett.
1689.
tA private soldier in Queen
Ann’s army.
u Twenty-fifth
King’s, 1719.
vosts.
v Fellow of Eton, 1734.
1690.
w Vicar of Weedon.
x Archdeacon of Norwich. Rec-
tor of Cheriton. Dean of Win-
chester.
y Master of Canterbury School.
«Fellow of Eton, 1716. See
List of Fellows.
4 Rector of Munxton.
b Rector of Hitcham; then
Vicar of Stour-Minster Marshall.
1691.
¢ Lower Master of Eton, 1717—
1734.
d Vicar of Wotton Wawen ; be-
came a Roman Catholic
¢ Assistant at Eton.
f Canon of Exeter.
St. Martin’s, Cornwall.
g Vice Provost, 1720.
Canon of Ely.
1692.
h Assistant at Eton. Author of
** Peculiars’”? and other School
Books.
Rhetoric at
Provost of
See List of Pro-
Rector of
Minor
1693.
i Assistant at Eton. Published
many School Books. Rector of
Plympton.
k Fellow of Eton, 1715.
of Provost Sleech.
Fellows.
Father
See List of
1694. | Assistant at Eton.
AS
1688 continued.
rHyancis Hare
Charles Walwyn
SMatthew Drift
Charles Harriott
WILLIAM AND MARY.
1689.
Jonas Mountague
Walter Goodfellow
Benjamin Wrightson
‘George Trewick
tAndrew Snape
Edward Denham
YJohn Reynolds
1690.
“Benjamin Wyllys
*Wilham Trimnell
YJohn Le’ Hunt
Henry Constantine
2'"homas Carter
Thomas Offley
bWilliam Montague
Kdward Peachey
1691.
CBarnham Good
dJames Clifton
‘John Lawley
'Fermour Naylor
€Wilham Thackham
1692.
bWilham Willymott
Walter Wells
1693.
i James Upton
John Cleaver
KRichard Sleech
John Pottinger
1694.
William Wilson
John Hutton
Guz
At
1694 continued.
mHdmund Staples
Anthony Constantine
WILLIAM
1695.
“Henry Bland
Charles Roberts
°Robert Walpole
PFKrancis Good
qThomas Wood
11f,
1696.
Robert Owen
‘Benjamin Clarke
William Beasley
‘Richard Blytheman
1697.
UThomas Jones
Edward Edlin
Robert Pluknett
John Willis
1698.
YRobert Lamb
wHorace Walpole
X*Wilham Malcher
yThomas Cole
1699.
Nicholas Mann
Wilham Lytton
4Samuel Symonds
Benjamin Wilson
Weyman Lee
1700.
bWilliam Wray
CWilham Goldwin
Francis Curtis
John Crompton
Thomas Traherne
Charles Foster
John Pyle
1705. ™ Vicar of Modbury.
© Rector of Walkern.
1706.
9 Fellow of Eton, 1731.
* Rector of Heavitree.
t Vicar of Fordingbridge.
1694 continued.
m Chaplain to Admiral Sir
George Rooke.
1695.
» Twenty-thirdProvostof Eton,
1732. See List of Provosts.
° Sir Robert Walpole; resigned
when Scholar. K. G. Prime Mi-
nister from 1720 to 1742. Then
Earl of Orford, Vicount Wal-
pole, Baron Houghton; died
1745.
P Assistant at Eton.
q Assistant at Eton.
Stour Provost.
1696.
r Vicar of Prescot.
®* Assistant at Eton.
Rector of
t Assistant at Eton. Conduct
of Eton. Minor Canon of Wind-
sor.
1697.
" Tutor of the College. Rector
of Downham. Prebendary of
Ely.
1698.
v Rector of Stour Provost.
w Brother of Sir Robert. M. P.
and employed in many high
offices.
x Fellow of Eton, 1724.
y Rector of Rainham. Deanof
Norwich, 1724.
1699.
* Assistant at Eton.
of the Charter House.
4 Assistant at Eton.
1700.
b Rector of Stour Provost.
¢ Fellow of Eton, 1733.
List of Fellows.
1701.
e Prebendary of Chichester and
Westminster.
f Rector of Buckland.
1702.
& Assistant at Eton.
h Tutor to the Duke of Cum-
berland, son of George IInd.
Secretary of State in 1716. En-
voy to King of Sweden in 1724.
Employed in many offices of
State. He was Captain of Mon-
tem, 1702.
iA Master in Chancery. Alder-
man of Guilford. He collected
a Biographical account of Mem-
bers of this College, which by
his will, dated 1753, he ordered to
be placed in the libraries of the
two Colleges, and a third to be
given to his Patron Mr. Speaker
Onslow. Bencher of the Middle
Temple.
Master
See
1703.
k Rector of Munxton.
| Barrister at Law. Auditor
of the Duchy of Lancaster. Mem-
ber for Truro in 3 Parliaments :
in 1727, Member for Dunwich.
1704.
m Assistant at Eton.
of Ickenham, Middlesex.
Rector
Archdeacon of Totness.
Preacher at Gray’s Inn.
P Rector of Earl Soham, Suffolk.
Rector of Worplesdon.
r Rector of Beerecrocombe, Somerset.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1694—1707.
1701.
‘Thomas Manningham
Marcus Le’ Pla
Robert Bragg
John Campion
‘ Henry Manning
John Burford
ANNE.
1702.
eSamuel Torrent
Francis Hall
hStephen Poyntz
Berkley Seymour
Theophilus Thompson
i Anthony Allen
1703.
Wilham Knight
kThomas Rothwell
George Meredith
!'Thomas Wyndham
1704.
Christopher Tilher
mSamuel Gilman
N7052
Jeremiah Ellis
nGeorge Baker
William Norton
1706.
PWilham Heming
aGeorge Harris
James Slatter
rKdward Pordage
SCharles Hawtrey
‘Gregory Donghty
1707.
No Places.
Sub-Dean of the Chapel Royal.
Sub-Dean of Exeter.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1708—1719.
1708.
Hugh Lamplugh
Charles Thackham
Thomas Bielby
UCharles Snape
Edward Adams
1709.
YGilbert Burroughs
Charles Weddall
wWilliam Antrobus
xAdam Elhot
Edward Wells
1710.
Benjamin Glover
yEdward Green
2Wilham Offley
John Legge
4Richard
house
Leighten-
lle
John Ducke
Wilham Hawtrey
bCharles Fleetwood
CHdward Kemeys
dThomas Thackeray
“Thomas Rees
Me lee
f Charles Willats
Henry Jones
John Hetherington
1713.
¢William Campbell
Thomas King
Jones Redman
John Evans
hJohn Lee
John Bonython
Gabriel Armiger
GEORGE I.
1714.
i Everard Sturges
1708.
u Assistant at Eton.
Wotton Courtenay.
1709.
v Rector of Coltishall
Horstead.
w Assistant at Eton. Rector of
Everdon.
x Assistant at Eton. Rector of
Milton.
Rector of
with
1710.
y Barrister at Law. Bencher
of the Middle Temple.
z Physician at Norwich.
2 Rector of Milton.
le
b’ Archdeacon of Cornwall. Pre-
bendary of Ely and of Exeter.
eM. P. for Monmouth in 1722
and 1727.
d Assistant at Eton. Head
Master of Harrow, 1746. Chap-
lain to the Prince of Wales, 1748.
e Assistant at Eton, and died
there.
1712.
f Assistant at Eton.
Plumptree, Notts.
WAS:
g¢ Rector of Greenford.
bh Rector of Kingston.
1714.
i Rector of Walkern.
k Rector of Boyton, Wilts.
5 | Editor of the Plays of Euripi-
es.”
Rector of
1715.
m Assistant at Eton. Rector of
Stour Provost.
n Fellow of Eton, 1746.
° Practised as Physician at
Windsor.
P Rector of Buckland.
q Secretary to Sir R. Walpole.
r Twenty-sixth Provost of
King’s, 1742. See List of Pro-
vosts.
s Vicar of Prescot.
1716.
t Fellow of Eton, 1726.
« Assistant at Eton, and died
there.
1717.
v Rector of St. Andrew’s, Hol-
born.
w Rector of Lessingham.
1718.
x Took no degree. Secretary
to the Board of Ordnance.
y Accidentally burnt to death
in College.
z Clerk of ;the House of Com-
mons. M. P. for Eye. Secretary
of the Treasury. An excellent
Scholar and Lawyer.
a Treasurer of the Excise.
>’ Canon of Windsor. Rector of
Hatfield, Herts.
1719.
¢ Barrister at Law ; succeeded
on his brother’s death to the
estate of Corfe Castle. M. P. for
Corfe Castle in several Parlia-
ments.
4d Rector of Sampford Courte-
nay.
e Employed in several State
offices.
45
1714: continued.
John Cooke
kThomas Clifton
John Newton
! John King
Francis Dodsworth
1715.
mBenjamin Archer
"Thomas Sturges
Matthew Tate
°Cherry Hayes
PAdam Batty
Robert Redman
dHenry Nelson
rWilham George
‘Augustin Gwyn
Charles Sedgwick
1716.
Thomas Hele
Thomas Westley
tHdward Littleton
Bartholomew Young
Ralph Banks
1717.
John Nodes
YJeffery Barton
James Style
WBenjamin Hunt
lS.
xCharles Bush
yWilham Humphrys
zNicholas Harding
aBendal Martin
John Smith
bSamuel Haynes
Ao
¢cHenry Banks
dJohn Heath
Samuel Sturges
eKdward Weston
Henry Disney
4.6
1719 continued.
John Redman
f Richard Bullock.
1720.
John Hancock
€Robert Banks
72k
William Pittman
hJohn Lane
i Thomas Morrell
1722.
KWilliam Battie
John Dale
1 Robert Parr
Leonard Wessel
mGeorge Proctor
1729.
nStephen Sleech
John Smith
Charles Trimnell
oJohn Chapman
PJohn Kwer
qJohn Sumner
1724.
Wilham Hall
George Towers
sPhilip Mountague
tCharles Bryer
wThomas ‘Thickness
vThomas Southern-
wood
wThomas Reynolds
L725).
Nathaniel Kent
xRichard Mounteney
yYGeorge Bowles
1729.
1730.
n Assistant at Eton.
1731. ° Assistant at Eton.
1719 continued.
fPrebendary of Westminster.
Chaplain to the King.
1720.
gs Anatomical Professor at
Cambridge. Physician to Christ’s
Hospital.
1721.
h Shot dead by a Highwayman
on Epping Forest.
i Rector of Buckland. A most
learned Scholar. Author of many
valuable works.
1722.
k Aneminent person. Founded
‘ Battie’s Scholarship.’
! Rector of Coltishall and Hor-
stead.
m Barrister at Law. M. P. for
Downton, Wilts.
1723.
. Twenty-fourth Provost of
Eton, 1746. See List of Pro-
vosts.
° Tutor of King’s. Archdeacon
of Sudbury. Chaplain to Arch-
bishop Potter, &c.
P Assistant at Eton. Canon of
Windsor, 1752. Bishop of Llan-
daff, 1791 ; of Bangor, 1768.
q'Twenty-seventh Provost of
King’s, 1756. See List of Pro-
vosts.
1724.
r Vicar of Fordingbridge.
s Rector of Piddlehinton.
t Vicar of Ringwood.
u Whitehall Preacher
VY Fellow of Eton, 1752.
List of Fellows.
w Rector of Wotton Wawen.
1725.
* A Baron of the Exchequer of
Ireland.
y Rector of Weedon.
« Vice-Provost in 1745.
1726.
4 Vice-Provost, 1737.
b Assistant at Eton for ten
years.
ec A Captain in a Staffordshire
Regiment in the Rebellion of
1745.
4 Assistant Clerk of the House
of Commons, 1740. Took Orders
in 1744. Vice-Provost, 1744.
Rector of Milton. Prebendary
of Exeter.
e Assistant at Eton.
1727.
f Vicar of Send; and Rector
of Merrow, Surrey.
g Assistant at Eton.
1728.
See
h Fellow of Eton, 1771. See
List of Fellows.
i Fellow of Eton, 1758. See
List of Fellows.
k Canon of Lichfield. Arch-
deacon of Derby.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1719—1731.
1725 continued.
Thomas Lane
John Burrough
ZRobert Bland
1726.
aJohn Showell
bRalph Thickness
Philp Parsons
William Mountague
cWalter Chetwynd
dJohn Naylor
¢John Goddard
GCEORCE Il.
L727,
George Payne
James Belchier
John Banister
‘Thomas Buckeridge
Benjamin Westley
gJohn Whaley
1728.
hKdward Betham
i Stephen Apthorpe
William Ashby
kSneydus Davies
1729.
1 John Sleech
17380.
mWilliam Cook
nPeter Laynge
Thomas Bradburn
William Royden
John Maule
1731.
oJoshua Barnes
' Assistant at Eton. Archdeacon of Cornwall. Canon Residentiary of Exeter...
m Twenty-eighth Provost of King’s in 1772. See List of Provosts.
Rector of Everdon.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1731—1474. A?
1731 continued.
qCharles Pratt
James Ansty
John West
"Thomas Dampier
L732:
John Kelham*
SWilliam Fletcher
John Pain
1738.
Samuel Barkley
Wilham Richards
‘James Hayes
uThomas Carter
vYRichard Lyne
wThomas Ashton
1734.
xJohn Hemmg
1735.
yEdward Sparks
Henry Hall
1736.
zZJohn Lodington
aJacob Bryant
Samuel Newey
Montague Barton
bWilliam Hanmer
cSeptimius Plumptre
1737.
dRobert Glynn
¢John Upton
1740. P In the Guards.
of the 79th Foot.
of Minorca. Died 1787.
4 Assistant at Eton.
Served in India.
1731.
« Attorney General, 1759. Chief
Justice of the Common Pleas.
1762. Baron Camden in 1765.
Lord High Chancellor, 1767.
Viscount Bayham and_ Earl
Camden, 1786. Died 1794.
‘Fellow of Eton, 1767. See
List of Fellows.
1732.
* Rector of Dunton Waylett.
1733.
‘ Barrister at Law. Reccrder
of Oakingham. M. P. for Down-
ton in 1753. One of the Welsh
Judges.
"Rector of Coltishall with
Horstead.
Y Fellow of Eton, 1752. See
List of Fellows.
~ Fellow of Eton, 1745. See
List of Fellows.
1734.
«Vicar of Holkham, Norfolk.
1735.
vy Head Master of Gloucester
School. Vicar of Fairford.
1736.
z Heldan Ensign’s commission
in the rebellion, 1745 ; afterwards
Rector of Toft Monks with Ha-
discoe.
aA very learned Scholar;
Author of many valuable works.
b Vice-Provost. Rector of
Horstead.
¢c Assistant at Eton. Vicar of
Mansfield, Notts.
7/876
d Practised Physic at Rich-
mond, and then at Cambridge,
till his death in 1799.
e Barrister at Law. M.P. for
Cumberland.
f Physician, first at Richmond,
tien at Windsor.
g Assistant at Harrow.
h Fellow of Eton, 1784. See
List of Fellows.
i Prebendary of Ely and of
Lichfield. Rector of East Tud-
denham and Scole, Norfolk.
1738.
k Vicar of Broad Chalke. Pre-
bendary of Sarum.
1 Assistant at Eton.
m Clerk Assistant to the House
of Commons.
n Barrister at Law. Recorder
of Grantham. King’s Counsel.
1739.
° Gained 3 Seatonian Prizes.
Rector of Munxton.
r Rector of Oakley, Suffolk. Dean of Bocking.
s A Physician of reputation at Salisbury.
1741.
Queen Charlotte.
t Fellow of Eton, 1775.
« President of the Royal College of Physicians.
Baronet in 1776.
v Bishop of Kilmore in 1774; then of Kildare.
See List of Fellows.
w Prebendary of Rochester, and Chichester.
1742. * Vicar of Taplow.
y Author of ‘ The Bath Guide,’ &c.
z An Under Secretary of State, and held several places of trust under Gouernment.
* Not admitted at Kine’s COLLEGE.
that he was much beyond the statutable age.
1787 continued.
fWilliam Biddle
®William Cox
hWilliam Barford
iThomas Roger Du-
quesne
1738.
KJohn Chafey
! Robert Purt
John Read
“Krancis Cust
1739.
Theophilus Lister
Tilleman Hodgkinson
°George Bally
1740.
PWilham Draper
qJohn Reepe
'Nicholas Wakeham
SJohn Jacob
I7Al.
‘Henry Sleech
“George Baker
YGeorge Lewis Jones
Samuel Saunders
wCharles Coldeall
1742.
*Wilham Paxton
John Taylor
yChristopher Anstey
“Richard Potenger
Thomas Gunter Brown
Commanded in 1763 the expedition against Manilla.
He presented the captured Colours to King’s College, and they long hung in the Chapel.
Knight of the Bath.
Colonel
In 1779 a Lieutenant General, and Lieutenant Governor
Physician in ordinary to George IIIrd and
Dean of St. Patrick’s, Dublin.
A caveat was entered against him, it being discovered
48
1742 continued.
aJohn Norbury
bEdward Young
1743.
Thomas Paget
1744.
‘Henry Talbot
1745.
David Graham
dWilham Brereton
eJohn Prior
John Evans
1746.
John Richardson
f George Graham
John Hillersden Frank
Malachi Hodgshon
eJohn Young
NTA.
Thomas Sclater
bRobert Carey Sum-
ner
i John Harris
kJohn Hallam
1748.
1 John Foster
mCharles Berkley
nHenry Knapp
OWillham Hill
Joseph Pote
1749.
PJeffery Ekins
William Burchett
qThomas Okes
1750.
John Barclay
Thomas Marsham
rKlias Thackeray
sJames Mansfield
1742 continued.
*Fellow of Eton, 1783.
List of Fellows.
b Assistant at Eton. Dean of
Clogher. Bishop of Dromore,
1763; of Ferns in 1765.
1744.
¢ Rector of Stour Provost.
1745.
4 Tutor of King’s. Archdeacon
of Stafford. Canon Residentiary
of Lichfield.
e Assistant at Eton for thirty
years.
1746.
f Assistant at Eton.
g Fellow of Eton, 1776.
List of Fellows.
1747.
h Assistant at Eton. Then Head
Master of Harrow.
iRector of
Marshall.
k Canon of Windsor,
Dean of Bristol, 1781.
1748.
! Assistant at Eton. Head Mas-
ter, 1765; resigned in 1773.
Canon of Windsor, and died the
same year.
m Master of Stamford School.
o Vicar of Dunton.
© Prebendary of Lichfield. Had
been Chaplain at Rotterdam.
1749.
P Rector of Quainton. Dean of
Carlisle.
q Practised Physic at Exeter
and died there.
1750.
r Rector of Walkern.
«Sir James Manstield. King’s
Counsel. SolicitorGeneral. M.P..
for the University.
t Assistant at Eton. Dean of
Salisbury, 1786.
u Master of Bristol School.
v Vicar of Weedon.
1751.
w Rector of Wotton Wawen.
x Vicar of Long Compton, and
Wotton Wawen.
1752.
y Twenty-sixth Provost of Eton,
1781. See List of Provosts.
7 Rector of Sampford Court-
enay.
1753.
See
See
Stour-Minster
1775.
“Fellow of Eton, 1781. See
List of Fellows.
b Rector of Milton; then of
Fulham, Middlesex.
1754.
¢ Vicar of Fordingbridge.
¢ Vicar of Ringwood.
€ Vicar of Prescot.
1755.
f Twenty-seventh Provost of
Eton, 1791. See List of Pro-
vosts.
g Canon Residentiary of Salis-
bury.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1742—1755.
1751 continued.
‘John Ekins
Robert Blencowe
William Arden
wCharles Lee
VJames Bones
1751.
WCharles Naylor
Wilham Maurice Bog-
dani
xDaniel Gaches
I752t
Henry Walker
Edward Pemberton
John Pemberton
Richard Templeman
YWilham Hayward
Roberts 7
Stephen Soame
ZRichard Edwards
L753;
alkidward Tew
‘Graham Jepson
James Fish Palmer
Jonathan Branfoot
1754:
George Harris
John Richards
cJohn Howes
dJohn Hawtrey
Edward Sydenham
Warre
cSamuel Sewell
1755.
Jeremiah Ellis
George Chamberlayne
f Jonathan Davies
Wilham Ellis
Barfoot Colton
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1756—1769.
1756.
No Places.
1757.
hJames Waller
' Charles Sturges
1758.
kKdward Chamber-
layne
' Benjamin Heath
mWilham Keate
1759.
Edward Jones
Benjamin Ridding
XWillam Paddon
°Nathaniel Morgan
PJoah Bates
Robert Pindar
1760.
qJohn Bostock
rCharles Grape
SDavid Stevenson
‘Edward Hawtrey
GEORGE
1761.
Chamber-
Thomas
layne
1762.
“Humphrey Sumner
Thomas Burrough
YMartin Whish
John Grover
wWilham Langford
John Cleaver
xPell Akehurst
1763.
yYJeremiah Pemberton
zKdward Reynolds
4Hrancis Barnes
bGeorge Heath
|
1757.
bh Archdeacon of Essex. Vicar
of Kensington. Prebendary of
St. Paul’s.
i Vicar of St. Mary’s, Reading. |
Prebendary of Salisbury.
1758.
k A Secretary of the Treasury.
' Fellow of Eton, 1784. See
List of Fellows.
m Rector of Piddlehinton.
1759.
" Rector of Greenford.
° Master of Bath School.
P Conductor of the Commemo-
ration of Handel in Westminster
Abbey, 1775.
1760.
a Vicar of New Windsor.
t Rector of Coltishall with
Horstead.
® A Doctor in the Commons.
t Fellow of Eton, 1792. See
List of Fellows.
1762.
“Twenty-ninth Provost of
King’s. See List of Provosts.
v Commissioner of Excise.
w Fellow of Eton, 1803. See
List of Fellows.
x Rector of Buckland, Herts.
17€3.
y Rector of Kingston.
Rector of Milton.
a Master of St. Peter’s College,
Cambridge, 1787. Died 1838, at
94.
5 Fellow of Eton, Dec. 1801.
See List of Fellows.
1764.
© Rector of Stour Provost.
4The Historian. Canon of
Salisbury. Archdeacon of Wilts.
1765.
¢M.P. for Harwich in three
Parliaments. Created Baron
Bolton, 1797.
f Assistant at Eton. Greek
Professor, 1790; resigned in
1793. Rector of Hemstead with
Lessingham.
& M. P. for Knaresborough in
four Parliaments; was ambassa-
dor at Warsaw.
1766.
bh Prebendary of Durham. Dean
of Rochester. Bishop of Roches-
ter ; then of Ely.
i Barrister at Law.
Counsel.
k Head Master of Rugby. Pre-
bendary of Westminster, 1797.
1 Vicar of Kenilworth.
m Physician at Colchester.
1767.
n Head Master of Rugby, 1795.
° Fellow of Eton, 1790. See
List of Fellows.
1768.
pP M. P. for Bramber, 1785.
1769.
q Assistant at Eton.
Kingston upon Thames.
King’s
Vicar of
49
1764.
Hugh Clough
Henries Robert Duck-
worth
John Jones
cJohn Manistre
dWilham Coxe
1765.
eThomas Orde
f Wiiham Cooke
Samuel Robert High-
moor
sJames Hare
Thomas Hayter
Thomas Layng
1766.
Joseph Davidson
hThomas Dampier
1 Hugh Leycester
Francis Parr
kThomas James
! Robert Sumner
John Brougham
Benjamin Sheppard
mHenry Topping
1767.
nHenry Ingles
Wilham Moore Tom-
kyns
°Willam Foster
Frederick Browning
Henry Poynter
1768.
Edward Ephraim
Pote
Wilham Johnson
PDaniel Pulteney
| 1769.
Oswald Leycester
aGeorge Savage
Philip Woolcombe
20
1769 continued.
John Maule
Edmund Holt
1770.
George Baker
rVicary Gibbs
Giles Emly
Philip Dormer Stan-
hope
Wigs
‘Francis Randolph
L772.
‘John Plumptre
wThomas Rennell
vEdward Cooke
wJames Chartres
xWilham Cole
yThomas Ellison
John Hayter
2'l"homas Key
1773.
Henry Ryder Knapp
aJohn Staples Hand
bGeorge Woodrofte
Wilham Beauchamp
1774.
eJohn Henry Jacob
1775.
Christopher Fleet
dWilliam Cole
eJohn Hayes
f John Luxmoore
Thomas Emly
1776.
gsHenry Dampier
hJohn George Nor-
bury
John Butler
John Anstey
Thomas Barnard
1770.
r Attorney General. Lord Chief
Justice of the ee Pleas.
1771.
6 Vicar of Broad Chalke, 1786.
Prebendary of Bristol, 1791.
1772.
tCanon of Worcester. Vicar
of Stone. Dean of Gloucester.
«Master of the Temple. Dean
of Winchester.
VY Under-Secretary of State.
w Under Master of Rugby.
Vicar of Broad Chalke.
x Assistant at Eton.
dary of Westminster.
y Rector ot Toft Monks and
Hadiscoe.
z Rector of Milton.
1773.
* Rector of Dunton Waylett.
b Rector of Sampford Court-
enay.
1774.
¢ Prebendary of Salisbury.
1775.
d Vicar of Broad Chalke.
¢ Rector of Everdon, and East
Hendred.
f Prebendary of Canterbury.
Dean of Gloster. Bishop of
Hereford, and of St. Asaph.
1776.
& A Judge ofthe Court of King’s
Bench.
h Rector of St. Alban’s, Wood
Street. preven gary of Lichfield.
Wide
i Rector of Buckland.
1778.
k Died Senior Fellow, 1836.
'Twenty-eighth Provost of
Eton, 1809. See List of Provosts.
m Rector of Hepworth.
1779.
" Rector of Greenford, Middle-
sex.
° Assistant at Eton. Died 1836.
P Vicar of Kew and Petersham.
1780.
4 Fellow of Eton, 1786. See
List of Fellows.
¥ Fellow of Eton,
List of Fellows.
® Assistant at Eton.
Kilfenora.
Preben-
1800. See
Dean of
178).
t Assistant at Harrow. Vicar
of Wotton Wawen.
«Tutor of King’s.
Weedon Lois.
1782.
~ Vicar of Sporle.
1783.
x Vicar of Wexham, Bucks.
y Assistant at Eton, and died
there.
Rector of
1784.
2 An eminent Barrister.
|
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1769—1785.
Was.
1 John Michell
Charles Hayes
John George Smith
Anthony Leonard
Askew
iio:
kCharles Simeon
l Joseph Goodall
mWiliam Moore
1779.
Thomas Sumpter
“Thomas Barrow
Charles Cropley
°Peter R. V. Hinde
PThomas Marsham
1780.
aWilham Roberts
rJohn Roberts
sGeorge Stevenson
1781.
tMichael Thomas
Beecher
Jonathan Reeves
Thomas Lloyd
1782.
Bridgman Luxmoore
WRichard Roberts
1783.
George Dyson
*Henry Dyson
yThomas Boggust
James Bearblock
1784.
William Hunt
Z\braham Moore
1785.
Charles Cottrell
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1785—1798.
1785 continued.
aWilliam George Free-
man
Wilham Jones
‘John Septimus
Grover
cGeorge Leycester
dJohn Ells
1786.
John Smith
John Hibbert
eRobert Ellison
f Thomas Briggs
1787.
ECharles Scott
Edward Marshall
hJoshua Hird.
1788.
iKdward Langford
Henry Metcalfe
Robert Smith
kWilham Abbot
1 John Vause
Charles Baker
1789.
Edward Jones
mThomas Hart
Now:
nCharles Driffield
“John Briggs
Geofiry Ekins
Richard Bethell
Robert Hughes
Richard Wyatt
Ehas Thackeray
1791.
PChristopher Bethell
qJohn Keate
92.
r James Camper Wright
Frederick Langford
1785.
4 Assistant at Eton. Rector of
Milton.
b Now Vice-Provost of Eton.
Rector of Farnham Royal.
¢ Assistant at Eton.
4 Rector of Wotton Wawen.
1786.
e Prebendary (of Wolverhamp-|
ton.
f Assistant at Eton.
Piddlehinton.
1787.
gs Rector of Wotton Courtenay.
h Rector of Munxton. Vicar
of Ellingham, Hants.
1788.
i Assistant at Eton.
k Assistant at Eton. Rector of
Coltishall and Horstead.
1 Assistant at Eton.
1789.
m Vicar of Ringwood.
Rector of
ol]
1792 continued.
Richard Broadley
SJohn Greatheed
Harris
John Broderip
1793.
tJoah Furey.
James Willson
Charles Sturges
Stephen Terry
1794.
Bryan Beauchamp
Thomas Carter
1790.
n Vicar of Prescott.
° Fellow of Eton, 1822.
of Creeting.
Rector
1791.
P Dean of Chichester. Bishop
of Gloucester; then of Exeter ;
now ot Bangor.
aq Assistant Master; Lower
Master, 1802; Head Master,
1809 ; resigned in 1834. Canon of
Windsor, 1820.
1792.
r Fellow of Eton.
Walkerne.
s Commissioner of Bankrupts.
1793.
t Vicar of Fordingbridge
1794.
u Assistant at Eton.
Master, 1814.
1829.
v Assistant at Eton. Vicar of
Kingston and Richmond.
w Rector of Kingston, Cam-
bridgshire.
1795.
x Vicar of Greenford.
1796.
y Vicar of Kew and Petersham.
Author of ‘‘ Lacon.’’
z Assistant and Under Master
of Harrow.
2 Assistant at Eton. Lower
Master, 1809. Provost of King’s,
1814.
b Rector of Hepworth.
1797.
¢ Rector of Creeting.
d Assistant at Eton.
Eton, 1818.
1798.
e Assistant at Eton. Fellow of
Eton, 1817. Rector of Maple-
durham, 1818. Canon of Dur-
ham, 1820. Bishop of Chester,
1828.
f Prebendary of Sarum.
g Rector of Willoughton
b Prebendary of Chester.
i Vicar of Broad Chalke.
Rector of
Lower
Fellow of Eton,
Fellow of
John Cross Morphew
vYSamuel Whitlock
Gandy
“John Woodburn
oc
Henry Whitfield
xHidward Polehampton
George Wilham Ayl-
mer
790:
yCaleb Colton
Henry James Thomas
Drury
Chif Hatch
4George Thackeray
bHdward Renne Payne
1797.
cBenjamin George
Heath
Henry Pratt Beau-
champ
dGeorge Bethell
1798.
eJohn Bird Sumner
{ Charles Hkins
gDuke Yonge
bRichard Godley
‘Stephen Hernard
Hawtrey
H 2
52
1798 continued.
___ Nathaniel Morgan
Rundle William Ford
79:
kCharles Yonge
John Sargent
'Samuel Berney Vince
mJohn Francis Plump-
tre
nFrancis Hodgson
George William Heald
Wilham Perdie Smith
Sterling Kelty
1800.
“Benjamin Heath
Drury
1801.
PHenry HartoppKnapp
Thomas Hyde Ripley
Martin Thackeray
aJohn Tomkyns
Scrope Berd. Davies
1802.
George Crawfurd
Heath
Joseph Thackeray
Thomas Fraser
Thomas Henry Lioyd
Daniel Charles Dela-
fosse
1803.
John Browning
George Coventry Lich-
field
George Richards
rRichard Burgh Byam
‘Humphrey Cholmeley
1804.
tGeo®. Pierce Richards
James Camplin Ber-
nard
1799.
k Assistant at Eton.
Master, 1829.
1 Vicar of Ringwood.
m Assistant at Eton.
of Eton, 1822.
n Provost of Eton, 1840.
Lower
Fellow
1800.
° Assistant at Eton.
1801.
P Assistant at Eton.
Master, 1830.
q Rector of Greenford.
Lower
1803.
r Vicar of Kew and Petersham.
s Rector of Hempstead, and
Lessingham.
1804.
t Rector of Sampford Courte-
nay.
« Rector of Stour Provost.
1805.
vy Assistant at Eton.
w Prebendary of Sarum. Rector
of Isleworth.
x SirStratford Canning, G.C.B.
Twice Ambassador at the Otto-
man Porte.
1806.
y Prebendary of St. Paul’s.
Fellow of Eton in 1827. Canon
of Lichfield. Principal of King’s
College, London. Bishop of Lich-
field, 1843.
1807.
z Assistant at Eton.
Master, 1834.
hurst.
Head
Rector of Ew-
1808.
4 Rector of Chalton with Clan-
field, Hants.
bA Judge of
Bench.
the Queen’s
1809.
¢ Rector of Tichwell.
dary of Sarum.
Preben-
1811.
4 Rector of Weedon Lois.
e'Treasurer of Chichester.
Vicar of Brighton. —-—_
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1798—1811.
1804: continued.
Robert Ekins
William Johnson
Yonge
UHenryJamesSlingsby
1805.
YWilliam Heath
wT'homas Rennell
Wilham Chafin Grove
*Stratford Canning
1806.
John Heath
yYJohn Lonsdale
Gabriel Valpy
John Slingsby
1807.
2Hdward Craven Haw-
trey
George Carlton Far-
hill
Charles Heath
Henry Matthews
Thomas Hatch
1808.
aWilliam Manly
bJohn Patteson
Edward Pote |
1809.
Henry J.Crickitt Blake
¢Frederick Browning
1810.
Henry Dampier “ :
1ST me
Charles Bamp?. Daniell
John Lucius Dampier
dJames Thomas Price
“Henry Michell Wag-
ner
Henry Hatch
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1812—1825.
1812.
fGeorge Rowney
Green
George Frederick
Nicholas
James Wells
1813.
Samuel Smith
&Henry Harding
John Barnard
George James Pen-
nington
1814.
hWilham Henry
Roberts
Wilham Mansfield
Stone
Wilham Blackstone
Rennell
1 John Harding
KGeorge John Dupuis
1 Charles Hatch
, 1815.
m John Abraham
Roberts
Edward Wilkins
°George Wilham
Craufurd
Robert Beehoe Rad-
cliffe
Thomas Henry Hall
1816.
PRobert Abercrombie
eo Denton
William Fowler Holt
Henry Hannington
Thomas Roberts
qRichard Okes
aie 7
Robert Samuel Battis-
combe
Henry Nelson Cole-
\ ridge
1812.
f Assistant at Eton. Fellow of
Eton, 1833. Rector of Everdon.
1813.
g Prebendary of Lichfield.
1814.
h Rector of Clewer.
i Rector of Walkerne.
k Assistant at Eton. Rector of
Hemingbye. Lower Master, 1834.
Fellow of Eton, 1838. Rector of
Creeting.
! Vicar of Fordingbridge.
1815.
m Rector of St. Alban’s, Wood
Street.
n Rector of Hempstead with
Lessingham.
o Rev. Sir George Craufurd,
Baronet.
1816.
P Rector of Stour Provost.
q Assistant at Eton. Lower
Master, 1838.
1818.
r Assistant at Eton. Rector of
Dunton Waylett.
lombo, 1845.
Bishop of Co-
1819.
s Assistant at Eton.
Eton, 1840.
t Vicar of Ringwood.
Fe llow of:
1821.
« Assistant at Eton.
1823.
vy Rector of Coltishall with
Horstead.
1824.
w Assistant at Eton.
1825.
« Rector of Hemingbye.
5d
1817 continued.
Lionel Buller
John Cecil Evans
1818.
Charles Henry Maturin
George Hume
rJames Chapman
1819.
sJohn Wilder
‘George Browne Ma-
turin
GEORGE IV.
1820.
Henry Battiscombe
James Packe
Peter Still
G. Osborne Townshend
Walter Blunt
1821.
uWilham Gifford
Cookesley
William Hill Tucker
Samuel Best
James Flamank
1822.
George Hamilton
John Chapman
G. W. Barnard
1828.
Francis George Le
Mann
v Joseph Thackeray
1824.
Capel Lofft
John Wolvey Astley
WCharles Luxmoore
1825.
Thomas Phillpotts
xGeorge Thackeray
54
1826.
Charles Chapman
Lewis Wiliam Samp-
son
‘Henry Edward Francis
+ Vallancey
Florence James We-
thered
yHarry Dupuis
John Edward Snowden
Legh
ZCharles Wilder
John Clemens Middle-
ton
1827.
Thomas Wright
aKdmund Durnford
John Halsey Law
Robert Wilham Bacon
James WanklynDowell
Thomas Sanders
Henry George Hand
Wilham Brooke
George Frederic Adol-
phus Battiscombe
1828.
bWilliam Wigan Har-
vey
John Hibbert
Robert Hindley Wil-
-kinson
Robert Latham
Fitz-James Tucker
Price
1829.
Richard Lewis Brown
William Ford
Robert Edward Hughes
CWilham Lawrence
Eliot
WILLIAM IV.
1830.
Charles Duke Yonge
Richard Art. Francis
Barrett
1826.
y Assistant at Eton.
7 Assistant at Eton, and died
there.
1827.
@ Rector of Munxton.
1828.
b Rector of Buckland.
1829.
¢ Assistant at Eton.
: 1830.
d Assistant at Eton.
1832.
¢ Assistant at Eton.
1833.
f Assistant at Eton.
1834.
g Assistant at Eton.
1836.
h Assistant at Eton.
i Tutor of King’s College.
k Assistant at Eton.
! Assistant at Eton.
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1826—1836.
1830 continued.
Edward Shepherd
Creasy
Edward Reed Theed
Henry Paul Measor
Robert Hibbert
dCharles Old Goodford
18381.
Andrew Long
George Willams
James Buller
1832.
Charles Allix Wilkin-
son
eCharlesJ ohnA braham
1833.
Edward Dom‘. Geoff).
Martin Kirwan
fWilham Adolphus
Carter
1834.
Edward Walker
George Goldney
George Washbourne
Money Kyrle
¢Francis Edward Durn-
ford
Walter Young
George Alexander
Seymour
Frederick Edward Long
1835.
John Henry Kirwan
1836.
hJohn Eyre Yonge
1 Rowland Williams
Alexander Blackall
Simonds
kKdward Balston
Richard Holmes Tuck
‘John William Hawtrey
Robert William ~
Essington
ALUMNI ETONENSES, 1837—1846. 55
VICTORIA.
1837.
William Frederick
Witts
Alfred Williams
Abraham Hume
1838.
Hyacinth Kirwan
mHenry Mildred Birch
Thomas Harrison Bul.
lock
Charles Feral Tarver
Wilham Talman
1839.
George John Boudier
James Jeffreys Bump-
sted
1840.
Percival John Brine
Edward Thring
James Arthur Yonge
1841.
2William Johnson
Herbert James
1838.
m Assistant at Eton.
1841.
» Assistant at Eton.
1842.
No Places.
1843. \
James Leigh Joynes ~
Bernard William
Francis Drake
Thomas Brocklebank
1844.
James Camper Wright
Charles Wolley
Augustus Frederick
Birch
Thomas Bendyshe
Wallace Day
John Acland James
1845.
Russell Day
Henry John Simonds
Edward Brenton Vance
1846.
Edward Henry Rogers
Henry Smith Mackar-
Less
William Algernon
Gully
tiuwwet
he Xi.
ely ae
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE.
No. I.
*“ Goe, little Booke! thy self present,
‘¢ As childe whose parent is unkent ;
- * * * * *
‘* And when thou art past ieopardee,
‘* Come tell me what was said of mee,
‘* And I will send more after thee.’’
SPENSER to his Booke.
BENEVOLO LECTORL.
Wuewn a man sets about publishing a work, he
naturally considers beforehand the probable chances
of success or failure. If it be altogether the first
attempt of its kind, he may look upon it as a bold and
adventurous undertaking, the management of which
will require great prudence as well as perseverance :
_but if, on the contrary, it has had its predecessors,
whose ill-fated existence has been cut short by a
sudden and unexpected stroke, then assuredly he
may somewhat pride himself on his hazardous spirit,
in endeavouring thus, as it were, to raise a new struc-
ture on that ill-omened spot, where the ashes and ruins
of the fallen still remain, to warn the cours us: and
dishearten the zealous.
This latter is somewhat the position in which the pro-
jectors of the Hton School Magazine stand. Scarcely
four years have passed, since the decaying remains of
the Eton Bureau were broken up ; of whose memory,
B
2 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. I.
however, we must speak with the respect and love due
to an elder brother, while we tenderly lament that the
power of the contributors was not sufhcient to carry
out the good intentions of the Editors, and we pray
with all humbleness, that we ourselves may be saved
from a like disastrous end.
But, if we are to be influenced by precedents, we
need not despond, or dwell too long on the dreary,
sunless side of the prospect. We have brighter hopes,
brighter examples: we can and ought to turn our
eyes back to the palmy days, when the wit of Canning
sparkled in Lhe Microcosm, and when The Etonian
proved itself worthy of the high name it bore.
It may, and doubtless will be asked, what is the aim
of the present Magazine; what good and useful object
has it in view ? And, at the same time, it will be urged,
that it proceeds rather from an empty desire to appear
in print, than any determinate plan or substantial
purpose. Well—to answer these hard-hearted objectors,
who will not allow us any excuse to exercise a little—
almost pardonable—vanity in our offerings at Mi-
nerva’s shrine, or Apollo’s fount—by this little work
we propose, Firstly : to improve ourselves, by this addi-
tional inducement to employ our leisure moments in
profitable as well as amusing reading ; and to habituate
our minds to think more often and, we trust, more
deeply on the objects that surround us, so as to obtain,
while yet we can, the power and custom of discerning
in all things the good from the evil—and, Secondly :
to create and encourage, as far as lies in our power,
and indeed to render more fashionable, a desire for
modern literature, which, forming as it does, no part
BENEVOLO LECTORI. 7
of the necessary school-work, is by the general mass
somewhat too much neglected, and, we fear, even
despised: as well as also to foster and bring to light
any latent germ which may not hereafter, amidst the
anxieties of business and the troubles of the world,
have any opportunity of expanding and fully display-
ing itself. And when we look round at the increasing
numbers and prosperity of Eton—when we admire
and feel inwardly gratified at her rising renown in
scholarship and learning, and still behold in her the
same generous spirit as of old, we cannot but think that
there must be some talent, which, if rightly brought
out, may be turned to good effect, and produce an
honourable result. And, moreover, why should Eton
alone be outstripped in the present age of advance-
ment? If Rugby has her Miscellany, why should
not Eton—in no dogged spirit of envy or even rivalry,
but in fair, honest emulation—put forth her Magazine,
with the modest wish, that it may add another laurel
to her already richly-laden crown ?
It may be, moreover, that we shall be overlooked
by the world as being too insignificant and ephemeral
to be worthy of notice. In the School itself, indeed,
we may expect to create some little stir: various,
doubtless, will be the surmises, sage will be the con-
jectures as to the Authors: such-a-one will be know-
ingly pointed out as the editor : “ He does the Poetry :”
«This one the light, that one the heavy prose.” Such
like learned remarks will probably be buzzed about:
we may, in fact, succeed in engaging the attention of
some, both within and without the School—but still,
Ba
4 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. I.
of course, we are sensible that we run a risk of being
mocked at by the thoughtless, deemed frivolous by
the learned, and being compassionately smiled on by
the wise. Notwithstanding all this, we are bold
enough to maintain that the attempt is good.
But what a bad omen, to begin thus to talk of
failure at the very outset! The bare idea of being
consigned to an untimely oblivion is too dispiriting
and chilling to be endured fora moment. What bad
policy, too, in us, who ought to be the boldest of the
bold, and to make answer to all such of our fellow-
workers as would raise a doubt with the wavering
Macbeth—
“‘ If we should fail——”’
in the determined spirit of his wife,
“We fail—but screw your courage to the sticking place,
And—
would that it were the only necessary requirement—
“< We'll not fail.”’
To make no apology at all is proud : to be too long
is tiresome: to be too short is deficient: to hit the
right medium is most dificult. Well—we certainly can
say we have steered clear of the first shoal ;—as to the
other three, we must leave them to our readers to decide.
And so with mingled hopes and fears—yet still inclined
to be sanguine, as being the better earnest of success—
we launch forth our little boat, to brave the uncertain
waves of popularity and destructive blasts of criticism,
hoping for mercy from strangers, trusting for en-
couragement from old Etonians, and expecting the
eood-will of our Masters and school-fellows.
Qn
AN ETON BOY’S LIFE.
‘ Solos felices viventes clamat Etone.’
Ou! how glorious is the life of an Eton boy!
Talk not to me of men and their enjoyments—of
luxurious ease, or of gratified ambition. Pshaw!
I tell you that neither a Duke of Devonshire nor a
Napoleon Buonaparte have any more business to
boast about real happiness in the presence of one of
us, than we have to—talk to the Doctor with our
hats on.
By the bye, before I proceed, I think it my duty to
state that Iam intent upon bestowing the benefit of
my experience in the present paper only upon non-
Etonians : and that, for this very good reason—viz.,
that if it be a present or old Etonian that is now
taking the trouble to read me, he will, without hesi-
tation, kick my lucubrations into the fire, or—as it is
hot weather—out of the window, enraged at my folly
in supporting with evidence what he deems to be as
clear as noon-day in the eyes of all the world.
Good heavens! what have I done? Here's a
formal digression made even before [ have com-
menced! However, as Sterne says that digressions
are a fault to which all distinguished writers are
subject, I do not intend to ask your pardon; but I do
intend to ask you to look at my room. Is it not an
Elysium? \ , ~
Eyw Kal ApEloowy, HéTEO VpLLY,
civdpacw wpidnoa’
coupled with a lamentation that
‘Old times are changed, old manners gone.’’*
Every word of these accounts is imbibed by lower
boys with the greatest avidity, and believed with the
simplest credulity. They think, too, that even during
the short time they have been at Eton, things have
not changed for the better. Certainly, they fancy the
big fellows (as they please to call them) of this year
are not so big as the big fellows of last year, or the
year before. They have read, too, that one fellow in
the eight was a match for two barghees in fighting,
and they would like to know where such a one is now
to be found. Of old, too, there used to be rebellions,
and the school was full of fun; now, they declare,
there never was such a slow place seen. With all
these things in their mind, they come to the conclusion
that, whatever is going on in the rest of the world,
Eton, at least, is degenerating, and will soon be no
better than any private school.
Whether those, who thus cry out, have as much
reason to do so as Tacitus had for his continual com-
* Introduction to ‘ Lay of Last Minstrel.’
28 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. I.
plaints of the degeneracy of the Romans, and his
longing for the revival of the ancient customs of his
country; and whether the words of Horace (Od. i.
6. 46,)
‘“« Aitas parentum pejor avis tulit
Nos nequiores, mox daturos
Progeniem vitiosiorem,”’
are rightly applicable to us—I would not dare to
affirm. I would like, however, to say something in
defence of my contemporaries, and to put one question
to these praisers of antiquity. According to their
theory, what will things come to in time? In some
few years, no Eton boy will exceed some four feet in
height; they will all be excessively stupid; whilst
boating and cricket will nearly have vanished. Such
a supposition is ridiculous. Yet, if things have been
getting worse, as they say, for the last fifty years,
what reason is there that they should not do so for
fifty years more? There is none. For if we have
once fallen away from the right, and have been
doing so for such a long time, we are not likely to
recover ourselves ; for, as Horace aptly says, (Od. iii.
5 OT)
‘* neque amissos colores
Lana refert medicata fuco,
Nec vera virtus, quum semel excidit,
Curat reponi deterioribus.”
For my part, I do not see the strength of their
arguments for the superiority of the past over the
present. I neither lament over Long Chamber, nor
do I understand the peculiar good it did the school.
BYGONE DAYS AT ETON. 29
I think Montem can be dispensed with after a few
tears shed, as also especially the custom of wholesale
flogging. Ifthe standard of scholarship in the school
is so much lower than of old, why are examinations
yearly becoming harder? If boys do not now take
from Monday to Thursday to do their verses, it is
because they have learnt the power of doing them
more quickly. If such hard hits are not made at
cricket (which, however, I much doubt), it is because
the game has become more scientific. In fact, whilst
all the world is going forward, I see no signs in
Eton of going backward. I am rather inclined to
think, that the race of old Etonians, like the Roman
people described in Horace, (4p. II. i. 21,)
** nisi quee terris semota, suisque
Temporibus defuncta videt, fastidit et odit ;”
though, perhaps, it would be more charitable to
attribute this theory of theirs to the love which every
Etonian must have for Eton as he knew her when a
boy at school, and to the delightful recollection of the
days of youth, which, everywhere joyous, can nowhere
else be so much so as in this one spot, hallowed by
the affection of so many generations.
30
TRANSLATION.
Catuututus LXIII.
Farr Atys, borne in flying bark the unfathomed ocean o'er,
With fleet and eager footsteps sought the woody Phrygian shore,
And the great Goddess’ secret haunts with high-arched foliage
crowned :
Then upstirred with furious frenzy, her senses swimming round,
Straight in her snow-white hand she seized the timbrel’s airy ring,
Thy timbrel, mother Cybele, thy trump of revelling—
And shaking with her tender hands the echoing ox-hide,
Thus tremblingly began to sing to the comrades by her side:
** Away to Cybele’s high groves, ye Galle, haste away !
To your Dindymenian mistress haste, ye sheep that went astray !
Who have sought a far, strange country, like some sad exiled band,
My comrades, at my guidance, my example, my command ;
Who have borne the rage o’ the rapid brine, the horrors of the seas,
Leap, leap, rejoice your drunken hearts in your lady’s mysteries.
Away, away with dull delay! Haste, haste, and follow me
To the Phrygian home, the Phrygian groves of mighty Cybele,
Where the sharped-voiced cymbal clashes, and the timbrel rings
again ;
Where from the curved pipe blythe is heard the Phrygian piper’s
strain ;
Where the mad Bacchantes toss on high their heads with ivy
crowned,
And with their shrill mad shrieking bid the holy haunts resound ;
Where ever flitteth to and fro the Goddess’ sacred train ;
Thither haste we our mad dances, thither haste we on amain !’’—
When double-natured Atys to her comrades thus had sung,
Sudden a loud wild chorus burst forth from each trembling
tongue,
And the light timbrel bellowed back ; the hollow cymbals rung.
Quickly, quickly then to Ida green hurried on that nimble choir,
While Atys, fluttermg, breathless, wild, her senses all on fire,
TRANSLATION. ol
Fair Atys with her timbrel first through the dark shade bounding
broke,
As the yet untamed heifer flees the burden of the yoke.
Right rapidly the Gallee ran, their leader following fast,
And right wearily they reached the home of Cybele at last.
Worn out with labour down they lay, their hunger unappeased,
And drowsy sleep their heavy eyes, and gentle languors, seized.
Then soft repose drove from their mind those frenzied exstasies ;
But when the golden-visaged sun raised his all-radiant eyes,
And the whitening sky, the solid ground, the raging sea surveyed,
And brisk before his freshened steeds drove Night’s retiring shade.
Then uprose Sleep, and fled away from wakened Atys’ breast ;
Pasithea took him fluttering, and to her bosom pressed—
So rising from serene repose, from ragmg madness freed,
When Atys in her memory reviewed each furious deed,
Thought calmly whither she had come, knew ald her misery,
Again she turned with bursting heart, again she sought the sea :
And looking on the boundless main, with eyes thro’ tears that
shone,
To her lost fatherland thus made her melancholy moan :
‘© Dear land that bar’st, and bred’st me! Fatherland! alas the
day,
When thee I fled, as doth his lord some worthless runaway,
To dwell in Ida’s snowy groves, ’mid the cold and desert caves,
Where the wild beast from his lurking-place in maddening hunger
raves —
Ah where, beneath what distant sky, my country, may’st thou be?
Towards thee my longing eye doth turn, doth turn instinctively,
While for a moment yet my heart is from fierce frenzy free.
Shall I then far from my own dear home plunge in these dismal
groves !
From my country, parents, fair domains, my friends and early
loves,
From street, and race, and wrestling-ground, must I for aye
depart ?
Alas! redouble thy laments, my wretched, wretched heart !
What sort of beauty doth exist, which I did not enjoy ?
I was the fair and ripening youth, the stripling, and the boy.
oe ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. I.
I was the flow’r o’ the wrestling-ground, the glory of the ring ;
With hum of lovers still my gates and halls were murmuring :
My house with garlands aye was hung, and knots of fragrant
flowers,
When Pheebus bade me leave my couch in the bright morning
hours.
Must I serve the Gods? serve Cybele? Must I for ever go
To the cold, cold haunts of Ida green, and drear peaks clad with
snow ¢
Must I live beneath the lofty hills on Phrygia’s beetling shore,
Where roams the thicket-haunting stag, the forest-ranging boar?
Now J repent me of my deeds, O now I grieve full sore.”
When thus the wandering strain had gone from her lips of rosy red,
And the tidings, wafted high in air, to the Gods’ assembly sped,
Then uprose Cybele, and loosed her lion-harnessed yoke,
And goading the flock’s deadly foe to anger, thus outspoke,
“Up, up! arouse thee fiercely ! up, and with fury urge
With fury’s stings the recreant with my grove’s green verge,
The recreant slave who tries to flee from my imperial sway—
Up! lash thyself to fury! lash thy foaming flanks! Away!
With the thunder of thy roaring bid the whole grove ring again,
Shake o’er the sinews of thy neck fiercely thy glowmg mane.”
Thus threatening said Cybele, and loosed him from the rein.
He madly roused him, and to rage his onward spirit lashed,
Roaring he rushed, beneath his bounding feet the brushwood
crashed.
But when he reached the farthest verge of the breaker-whitened
strand,
And saw the tender Atys by the glassy waters stand,
On sprang the beast. She maddened within the wild groves fled,
Where ever as the Goddess’ slave a weary life she led.
Goddess, mighty goddess, Cybele, whom Didymus adores,
Far be thy maddening influence, dear mistress, from my doors,
To other lands thy furies bear, thy plagues to other shores.
QO.
Od
IDEAS UPON THE CAUSES OF THE
FALL OF ATHENS.
———— —_- — ee
It is not without diffiidence that we venture to offer
any opinions upon a matter which has occupied the
thoughts, and employed the pens, of so many of the
first scholars of present and former times. We know
full well how crude all our notions of antiquity must
necessarily be, and how ill presumption becomes the
young: yet surely it would be but poor gratitude to
our Alma Mater, if we too did not make some attempt
to shew that her fostering cares have not been bestowed
in vain—but cowardice, not to use, according to our
powers, the weapons with which she has armed us.
And who is it whom she has most delighted to set
before our eyes as an object both of admiration and of
imitation? Whose writings does she bid us Nocturna
versare manu versare diurna? Whose arts does she
point out as still unsurpassed, though two thousand
years have elapsed—years full of talent, of invention,
of improvement? Whose deeds does she enjoin us to
keep ever present in our thoughts? Whose else but
those of the Athenian of the fourth and fifth century
before Christ—the high-spirited, the ambitious, the
undespairing Athenian? And truly we feel no un-
willingness to comply with her injunctions. Weknow
not how it is, but there is that in the Athenian cha-
racter which has peculiar charms for the mind of
youth; we seem unable to refrain from identifying
ourselves with him, from joying in his joy, from griev-
D
34 THE ETON MAGAZINE, NO. IT.
ing in his griefs; we cannot even feel angry with him
for his follies and vices, but we mourn over them as
we should over those of our own familiar friend,
wishing it were in our power to warn him of their
effects, or to expose to him their unworthiness.
It is not now our aim to investigate the causes for
this partiality. Weare not sufhciently metaphysicians
to decide, whether it arise from the shadow which
coming events throw before them, from the sympathy
which we naturally feel, from the foreknowledge of the
darkness into which so much light is to be plunged ;
or whether rather it be, that the mind of youth, itself
open to every impulse, naturally inclines to a cha-
racter, which, like that of the Athenians, knows no
second thought, but, all ardent, deems it an easy task
‘to pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon,’
if such be the ruling passion of the hour? Such, we say,
is not our object. We would rather endeavour, and
we feel how weak our endeavour is, to trace the causes
which led a people, naturally endued with so brilliant
an array of noble qualities, to commit many, very
many errors—some crimes, perhaps, unsurpassed by
any which history brings forward.
Now we do not conceive the circumstance of their
acting almost invariably upon impulse, sufficient to
account for this; though we well know, that human
nature, when not guided by any religious principle,
is all but certain to be led into faults by this habit.
We fancy that, when free from the incubus of evil
counsel, and of evil fashion, which arose from that
counsel, the impulse of the Athenian mind was to
IDEAS UPON THE FALL OF ATHENS. oo
act generously and well. It was, then, evil counsel,
acting upon a peculiarly quick and sensitive tempera-
ment, that we must deem the cause; but it was only
the proximate cause. It remains yet to be seen, by
what class of men this influence for evil was possessed,
and how it came to pass that they possessed it.
Let us go back some thirteen hundred years of time,
and let us, with six thousand Athenians, enter the
Pnyx, for the purpose of joining in determining on
the fate of the Mytilenian prisoners. The sacrifices
have been offered, order has been proclaimed, and
throughout the vast assembly every sound is hushed,
as with impudent air, and swaggering gait, a coarse
butcher-looking fellow leaves his seat, and hastens
across to the bema. He begins with no appeal to the
Ocor éykwptoe who stand around, or to the Minervas which
look down upon him. The monuments of Athenian
art, which face him, lend no enthusiasm to his speech :
Salamis, and her ever-living glories, are purposely
unnoticed : they would remind the people of the great
generals and wise statesmen of former time, of Aris-
tides and Themistocles. No; at once he bursts into
a torrent of calumnious and vulgar invective. All
Mytilene must perish: the authority of Athens over
her allies requires it; the injured majesty of the Athe-
nian people demands it; and thus the demagogue
goes on, watching every shade of feeling manifested by
the assembly, agreeing with and going beyond it, till
he sees them goaded into the state of fury which he
requires, and till the people of Athens answer, as with
one voice, ‘ Death to Mytilene !”’
The fruit of this speech is the murder, in the very
36 THE ETON MAGAZINE, NO. I.
city of Athens, of one thousand defenceless persons :—
the speaker is Cleon, the son of Clezenetus, the tanner-
ruler of Athens.
Such were the measures which the demagogues
delighted in—we say demagogues, for Cleon, though
the greatest, was not the only one:—pity that their
influence was sufficiently powerful to carry them
through, against the better feelings of the people. And
yet these last were by no means unaware of the cha-
racter of the men to whom they submitted ; even the
grave Thucydides tells us with what zest the Athenians
kept Cleon up to the vaunt he had made, that in
twenty days he would reduce Pylos ; and every page
of Aristophanes contains some sarcastic allusion to the
origin, or the cowardice, or the selfishness of this man.
We know what an effect the comic stage had upon the
Athenian mind: How was it then, that, if they pos-
sessed the good feelings which we have asserted, they did
not shake themselves free from this evilinfluence? We
think we can elucidate this also. Towards the end of
the life of the great and good Pericles he who so well
deserved the appellation of ®pjv—an accusation was
laid against him, which well nigh threw him from his
high position : this accusation appears to have originally
sprung from the insinuations of the comic poets, that
he was aiming at the sovereign power; amongst other
satirical remarks, his friends were stigmatized by the
odious name of Pisistratids. This one word we think
the key to all the influence of demagogues—-which
last is synonymous with the ruin of Athens.
Kal
(To be continued.)
oF
LINES.
Believe me, O believe me, though the many still may sneer
At high and holy courage, and at all-enduring love :
Believe me, some possess them ; some are yet afraid to fear
The scoffing of the worldling ; some look to things above.
I call not courage that, which drives men onward to their fate,
As they say, for home and country, for wife and children’s sake :
They fight for worldly honours, for a name among the great ;
Some get them, and some perish :—’tis a game, and life’s the stake.
I call not love that passion, which the lisping coxcomb feigns
’Midst music’s wreath’d entrancement, or the madness of the dance ;
When the smile, so freely given, overpowers his shallow brains,
And, all-panoplied in vanity, he conquers at a glance.
There’s a better, stouter courage, which from duty never swerves,
But mocks the tempter’s cunning still, and dares his baffled ire:
Which, through the life-long struggle, its native worth preserves,
And crushes every sinful wish, and every base desire.
Tis a purer love which, silent within the inmost breast,
Can view, without an envious thought, another’s happiness ;
Which secret hopes and secret pangs m semblance calm has drest,
Yet joys but in the loved one’s joy ; but mourns in her distress.
Believe me, O believe me, that within our ancient towers
There are some—God speed them—who possess such courage and
such love :
Who think on parents’ warnings, and on childhood’s holy hours :
Small need have they of boyhood’s praise—they look to things
above.
F. T.,
38
ON THE
RECENT CHARITIES IN BEHALF OF THE IRISH.
By the smooth Liffey’s osiered tide
I slept, and dreamed of Erin ;—
Her children wandering from her side,
Her glory disappearing.
Methought I saw a waving elm,
Whose branches reached the sky ;
A graceful vine around her stem
Was twined submissively.
The sun was warm, the breezes soft,
The foliage lightly dancing ;
The climbing vine peeped up aloft,
’Neath her tendrils coyly glancing.
I looked again: The sky was dark,
From the blast the elm was bending :
I saw the vine enclasp the bark,
And it saved the trunk from rending.
Thou, Erin, art that elm, I said,
And a lovely vine creeps o’er thee ;
When Famine’s storms rolled round thy head,
"Twas charity upbore thee.
R. B.
39
FRIENDSHIP.
Friendship! if thou the higher, holier name
Of Love rejectest, gift most deeply prized
Of the All-Merciful, nor in men’s hearts
Alone enthroned, for e’en our little world
Thy power, Goddess, owns, and grateful shares
Thy gifts, to wider spheres too oft denied.
What if e’en here Etona’s sons may form
Bonds of a love as lasting, which the grave
Alone dissolves ; nor differing walks of life,
Nor factious party-spirit, time, or space,
Those ties can sever, here too firmly joined?
Oft when at me with malice-darting eyes
The world looks scornful, or the cutting winds
Of poverty pierce through my anxious mind,
When fain the soul her earthly chain would burst
In age or sickness; as some bird, desiring
To moult her feathers, and take upward flight ;
Do thou remain to soothe the bed of death—
Thou grateful beacon to the weary sailor
On life’s rough sea—man’s almost only joy—
Bearing with patience the contingencies
Of second childhood, murmurings, discontent,
And petulance : Come, Goddess, aye to men
Welcome! but then most welcome, when all else,
By this weak world engendered, sinks to nothing,
Before the approach of death and fearful Judgment.
AO
TRANSLATIONS.
From ‘Latta RooKkn.”’
Who that feels what love is here,
All its falsehoods—all its pain—
Would, for e’en Elysium’s sphere,
Risk the fatal dream again ?
Who that midst a desert’s heat
Sees the waters fade away,
Would not rather die, than meet
Streams again as false as they ?
Tic rov éoWra palo, oioe Dede éore Dpdroror,
Pebdeow we dorelc,we Gdvvyet apie,
AUTé Kev, ci paKapwy TEO EYOL VHGOLOLWW avacoe,
TAain Exov Buu Keiv’ 2xeTEvKic Ova 5
Tic yap zgonudiov Enpawwouevoc Tediovo
Katpari, va’ vdatwv we lO aorydopmevors
Ov padAoy diy Trovée Te Oavety Te TeODdMOoL,
N ? > , > , ? , eo
H wad eV TAVUTALC EUTPEGEELV aATAaATaALC ,
HORACE, Lis. |. Carm. 38.
‘** Persicos odi, puer, apparatus.”
Away with this splendour and vanity,
Away with these wreaths of the linden-tree,
And seek not, fair boy, any more to disclose,
Where the last rose of summer, yet lingering, blows :
It will suit your young brows, it will also suit mine,
Bring the myrtle; its simple white blossoms entwine ; d
As I lie in the shade, quafiing cups of cool wine.
E.G. E.
: =3
yo EE
KTON SCHOOL MAGAZINE.
No. IT.
‘ Goe, little Booke! thy self present,
‘¢ As childe whose parent is unkent ;
* Ok x ** * *
‘¢ And when thou art past ieopardee,
‘* Come tell me what was said of mee,
‘¢ And I will send more after thee.’’
SPENSER to his Booke.
POETS OF THE AGE.
4 .
“ dignoscere cautus
Quid solidum crepet, et pictze tectoria linguee.”’
PERSIUS.
Discerning the devout, the Christian song,
From the fair tinsel of a wicked tongue.
Mucu has been said and written against the study
of the Classics, on account of the unveiled immorality
dispersed over them ; and Horace, Juvenal, and Aris-
tophanes are singled out as deserving exclusion from
public schools : even Homer himself, say the objectors,
is to a certain extent liable to this charge. Let such
people look around them, let them but glance at the
poetry of our own country, particularly that of the
last generation, and what must be their opinion of
those, who, with the light of Truth and Revelation,
E
— ad
42 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
have written poems containing more shocking, though
less gross wickedness—more obscenity, sedition, and
blasphemy, than ever was penned by heathen author ?
The most dangerous feature of these writings is the
refined language which conceals vice, such as may
shut the eyes of the reader to its inward pollution,
while, at the same time, his admiration is excited
by the lovely dress in which it appears. Any mind
recoils naturally from the immorality of Horace or
Aristophanes, because it is openly gross; while it doats
on the refined amatory poem of modern days, and
unwarily drinks in its isidious poison, a victim to its
outward embellishments.
Against these productions no person, especially the
young, can be too much on his guard; they are,
indeed, dangerous, and the more so, because poetry
has such an effect on the imagination, attracts our
minds to itself by such an indescribable charm, that it
must exercise an important influence, either for good
or evil, on them.
But surely it is a sign of improvement in this
generation, that such writings as those to which we
have alluded have lost much of their fascination :
undoubtedly, though people are fond of exclaiming
against the age, 1t is a proof that religion is making
greater progress in the minds of the generality at this
time, than it did at the beginning of this century,
when they were in great repute. It is a cheering
fact, we repeat, that while the works of Lord Byron
and his school begin to appear in their true colours,
divested of the embellishments which were able at
POETS OF THE AGE. 43
once to captivate and corrupt, there is growing up
amongst us a just appreciation of those works, which
Byron brought into disrepute,—of Wordsworth, Cole-_
ridge, Southey, and what is called the Lake School.
How much more generally are these praised now than
they were twenty years ago! And why? Because
the age is more fitted to appreciate their chaste sim-
plicity and devotional spirit.
Besides the Lake School, there is another class
of poets, equally elegant, equally religious, who have
not attained the celebrity of the former writers: for
instance, Milman—Bowles— Moultrie. Two of these —
the author of the “ Fall of Jerusalem” and “ Fazio,’
and he whoat thirteen wrote “ My Brother’s Grave” —
were Etonians ; and to these we may proudly point as
such: all three are faithful priests at the altars of our
Church, though one has long since passed the age
allotted to man, and the miseries contingent on old
age have long pressed on him, without his being able
to enjoy its comforts and consolations.
And Alfred Tennyson, too, yet in his prime, promises
to be a first-rate poet; and who does not admire the
beauty and originality of zs genius? who does not
again and again take up and feast on his ‘“ May-
Queen,” his “ A’none,” and his ‘‘ Lotos Eaters?” We
hope that he will not rest satisfied with the praises
which he has already earned, nor make one of the—
“ venus ignavum, quod lecto gaudet et umbra,”
which poets are said to be.
We hope we shall be pardoned for introducing the
BY 2
44. ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
name of one, of whom the hand of sudden death
deprived us but a few weeks since, and who, though
perhaps not a first-rate poet, was still an elegant and
accomplished scholar in a variety of languages, and
gave to the world “ Helga,” and many other poems,
which have found favour in the eyes of the learned,
‘laudata a laudatis viris;’ —we allude to the late
Dean of Manchester, Dr. W. Herbert, the editor of the
‘Muse Etonenses.”” In him the Chapter of Man-
chester have lost an able and skilful President —its
poor, a father—and the world of literature one of the
highest stars of its firmament.
Still more cheering than all this is the hold which
Sacred Poetry has within the last few years got on the
mind of the generality. We mean such works as the
‘Christian Year,” already in its twenty-eighth edition,
and the “ Lyra Innocentium,” by the same author,
which promises, if not to surpass, at least to equal its
predecessor,
‘“¢ Matre pulchra filia pulchrior.”’
While such is the case, and while books of such
beauty are duly valued, how can it be said that this
generation is inferior to the last? But not only does
the author of the “ Christian Year” enjoy the name of
a Poet; he is well known, moreover, as an accom-
plished scholar, and one of the best living divines ot
our Church. It would be almost presumption in us
to add our small tribute to his acknowledged worth.
Such are the Poets of the age, who may proudly
challenge comparison with Byron, Shelley, Leigh
Hunt, and the “ Satanic School.”
POETS OF THE AGE. 45
Keble (Gan his beautiful Preelections) marks a
primary Poet by a love for religion, and monarchy,
and a simple, quiet style, more imitative of the great
originals than anxious to strike out into a new line for
himself—
‘< Insigne recens, adhuc
Indictum ore alio.”’
Doubtless Homer had a due regard for the first two
things, or why does he talk so constantly of the
Avorpépecc Baoirjec ? why so often allude to the fate of
the murderer AXgisthus, and to the crime of Paris and
Helen, as the cause of the Trojan War and its fatal
consequences ? why does he represent Ulysses taking
such terrible vengeance on the suitors of his wife ?—
surely not merely because they feasted at his expense ?
The poet intended them as models of wicked dema-
gogues, who despised the gods and their fellow-
creatures, and would have overturned the monarchy in
the absence of its chief.
One need hardly mention Shakspeare and Milton
as bearing this mark: we may claim it also for the.
Lake Poets: Shakspeare, Milton, and all the reat
originals, are their study. They prefer the admiration
of the talented few, to the applause of the indiscri-
minating many. ‘They are the poets of the affections.
Love, as represented by them, is not another name for
lust, but a chaste, sublime passion, capable of ennobling
man, free from all the pollutions of vice and impurity
with which writers of the Satanic school have invested
it. And what is more to their credit, their practice is
identical with their profession.
46 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
A true poet, therefore, is neither a profligate nor a
demagogue ; nor does true poetry consist in tales of
crime and blood, in misanthropy, sedition, or blas-
phemy. Better, a thousand times better, would it be,
if those writers had never been gifted with superior
talents, than that they should have used them in dis-
seminating wickedness. A true poet is a good Chris-
tian, and a good subject; his poetry is not such as
shall, during the season, form only a topic of conver-
sation for female blues or aristocratic coteries; his
style is quiet and elegant, and, through his heroes, he
stands in defence of his God, his country, and his
sovereign.
But above all is he blessed, who tunes to his strains
the praises of his Maker. The greatest popularity that
a poet can enjoy among his fellow-men is small,
compared with that exalted pleasure which the Sacred
Poet, at the close of his life, may proudly claim for
himself. So died the poet Mason, who, while on the
verge of death, offered up, like the dying swan, his
feeble thanks for his talents :—
‘“‘ Still (thank Heaven !) if I not falsely deem,
My lyre, yet vocal, freely can afford
Strains not discordant to each moral theme :
Fair Truth inspires, and aids me to record,
(Best of poetic palms!) my faith supreme
In Thee, my God, my Saviour, and my Lord!”
47
A TALE OF REAL LIFE.
OA , on Wednesday, an inquest was held on the body of Jane Miller,
aged 22. It appeared that in September last, she had been out for a country
walk, with her lover, Francis Vallis; and on some expression she used, he
struck her violently on the side. She complained of pain there, but did not
divulge the cause of it till on her death-bed. The surgeons said, that on a post-
mortem examination, they found two of the ribs broken, which probably occa-
sioned irritation of the lungs, and consumption,—the cause of her death. Verdict,
Manslaughter against Francis Vallis.’’—Provincial Newspaper.
**T know I’m dying, mother ; well I know I cannot live ;
That e’en your loving tenderness no long reprieve can give.
Nay, do not gaze so sadly,—I cannot longer stay ;
Oh! pray to God to ease my pain, and take me quick away :
For you, too, would desire that I soon might be at rest,
If you knew what mingled grief and pain are raging in my breast.
You mourn that like a summer flowr I’m fading slow away,
And while all is bright around me, sadly sinking to decay ;
You know not that I’m dying under tortures sharp and fierce,
That wild and rending sorrows both my mind and body pierce.
You remember, years ago, how on the dewy glade,
As blithesome as the younglings of the shepherd’s flock I played ;—
And you'd wish me glad again, Mother ; but now I'll tell you why
I never can be glad on earth, and why I wish to die.
Twas one bright autumn evening, now almost six months ago,
The breeze was whisp ring o’er the lea in murmurs soft and low ;
The sun, a ball of fiery red, was sinking in the west,
And in the elms each cawing rook was settling to his rest ;
I leant upon our garden gate, beneath the sun’s warm light,
And thought how sad ’twould be to leave this world so fair and
bright ;
48 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
When o’er the grass I heard a well-known footstep quickly come,
And Frank ran up, who from the harvest-field was hast’ning home.
He took my hand, and said, that as the evening was so fair,
He hoped I’d come, and stroll awhile, and breathe the cooling air.
Then arm in arm we passed the bridge, and wandered by the stream,
(Oh! Mother, would that evening bright had only been a dream !)
And beside the weeping willows, and beneath the old oak tree,
Whose branches kissed the rivulet that rippled joyously ;
And o’er the dewy fields we went, and down the shady lane,
Where overhanging trees keep out the sunlight and the rain:
And then upon the knotted stump of an old withered tree,
Whose twisted roots are covered o’er with ivy creeping free,
We sat, while from a neighbouring brake the thrush his evening
hymn
Poured forth, and in the pale twilight all things were growing dim.
I know not here how long we stayed; the moments fitted by ;
For we deemed the hours were seconds in each other’s company.
But soon the moonbeam’s silver light, that glanced among the trees,
Warned us to go, and cooler blew the gentle evening breeze.
And then we rose and hastened home ; and at the village stile
He kissed me, softly pressed my hand, and left me with a smile !
And still I gazed, as with retreating steps he trod the green ;
When suddenly he stopped, and hastened back with altered mien:
‘““T cannot leave you, dearest Jane,” he said with kindling eye ;
‘© And oh! forgive, I pray you, this wild fit of jealousy :
But they tell me that each morn and eve, whenever I’m not here,
James Gardiner around the place for ever hovers near ;
And that beneath the very trees, where lately we have strayed,
Together ye have often gone and sat beneath the shade.
Oh! tell me that it is not true, and ease this burning smart ;
You cannot tell how wildly beats this doubt-distracted heart.”’
Oh ! then I spoke in anger ; for I thought of all our vows,
And what Pd said that very eve beneath the oak’s green boughs.
“J will not say it is not true! I will not ease your smart :
It may be true! perhaps even now you do not know my heart.”
And then he swore a dreadful oath, and cursed me for my pride,
And struck me, Mother, dearest. Yes, he struck me on my side !
“*
A TALE OF REAL LIFE. 49
I fell, and faimted, for that blow was more than I could bear ;
And when I oped my eyes again, I found Frank was not there.
Oh! all that long and weary night I lay awake with pain,
Or if I slept, my aching side soon waked me up again.
And yet I do not blame him ;—tho’ Id told him all my love ;
And surely, Mother, vows like mine are registered above !
And ever since that dreadful eve, I’ve slowly pined away :
My weary heart has never ceased to burn both night and day.
You see how in my wasted cheek the hectic flush is high,
You see how thin my hands are, and how brightly burns my eye.
I only saw him once again ; not penitent he came :-—
He said that he had struck me,—but that I was much to blame ;
And “hoped that I should soon be well, and would forgive the
blow :”
And when I smiled, and took his hand, he hastened quick to go.
Then, after that, 1 knew I ne'er should see another year,
For the pangs that tore my heart-strings were more than I could bear.
I thought that his affection was like mine, and that ’twould last
Unchanging, unassailable by cold suspicion’s blast ;
But now I know a woman’s love burns in this wasted breast,
The strongest thing on earth ; it knows no changing, and no rest :
Tis a clinging close affection, as the ivy round a tree ;
And since the oak’s torn from me, let the ivy cease to be.
But tell him, when I’m passed away, what pains for him I’ve borne,
And do not hate him, for my sake, when I am dead and gone.
Mother, my course is ended ; *twas a short and saddened one ;
But often im the morning clouds will seem to hide the sun.
And when. below the clammy earth, under the yew-tree’s shade,
That overhangs. the church-yard wall, this wasted body’s laid,
Far, far above the bright blue sky, in quietude and peace,
My soul will fly on angel’s wings, and all my pains will cease.”
a, ee
00
THE ETON BOY’S FAREWELL.
Tempus abire tibi est.
Horses 1. 23S.
How frequently may we have impatiently looked for-
ward to the time of leaving Eton ! but few, methinks,
will regard its near approach with the same mind.
For ‘farewell’ is always a word of sorrow, it is indeed
an uttered tear; it speaks but of severed ties; and
seldom can we say it without a feeling of sadness steal-
ine over our spirits, even when we have the consola-
lation of knowing that the separation is not to be final,
and that ere long we may be reunited to the object of
our affections. But our present farewell must be
indeed for ever: we can be Eton boys no longer, nor
can we stay one of the fleeting hours that are so
speedily bringing to an end that period of our existence,
which all experience has proved to be the happiest.
It is time for us to be gone; we are called to other
scenes, and to other occupations. The great work of
life must now be commenced, and it remains to be
proved whether we have so profited by the opportuni-
ties that have been here afforded us, as to be prepared
for the ill events and accidents we are to meet with in
a life sentenced to be a scene of trial. Hitherto we
have had, to direct our course, the kind and careful
hand of those who will, no doubt, yet regard our
future welfare with some degree of interest; but we
must henceforth enter on the rude sea of life, with
THE ETON BOYS FAREWELL. 51
no other pilot than our own watchfulness and pru-
dence. And when we consider the great happiness of
which, for some years, we have been partakers, but
from which we are now about to part for ever, can we
do so without regret? Can we not now form some
idea of the exile’s sickening feelings, as he beholds the
white cliffs of his father-land assume a fainter hue in
the increasing distance? Do we not realize the pri-
vilege of having been at Eton? For this, believe me,
is in itself a distinction, which will follow us through-
out life; and [ have met with more than one person,
who is looked up to with a greater degree of respect
than they otherwise would be, only because they were
educated here. Nor is it a slight privilege that we
have been permitted to call our own, a place so full of
noble recollections. ‘The ‘admonitus locorum’ meets
us at each step: every stone speaks of departed
ereatness, and bids us tread in the steps of those,
whose names belong to posterity. Beneath yonder
trees more than one conqueror has built his boyish
dreams of future victory; more than one statesman
formed projects, which, in his after career, he may
not have found useless. It was here that Gray learned
to love, and dared to emulate the fervent measures of
the Pindaric ode; and here that Shelley nursed the
wild fancies of his fitful brain. These, too, are the
scenes which fostered the eloquence of Fox and Can-
ning, the scholarship of Porson, the unaffected piety
of Pearson. It is not easy to be indifferent on spots
like these. The spirit of the place is felt. A serious
thought, which can hardly be buta salutary one, lurks
t
a2 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
in the very air: for here the great leap into active
life has been taken more nobly than elsewhere; and
the example ought to nerve us for our future con-
flicts. But to some of us this ‘admonitus locorum’
ought to have an especial weight; for we saw the
remains of one among Eton’s most illustrious sons con-
signed to the earth he loved so well in life. His bust,
among others, now adorns the room where he first
imbibed that love for literature, which in after years
neither the weight of Government nor the cares of
business could damp: and let us hope that ere long,
in our restored chapel, some monument will record,—
not his fame indeed, for that would be unnecessary,
since it is indelibly marked in the annals of his
country,—but Eton’s proud boast, that ‘ Wellesley
sleeps there.’ |
And if it be permitted us, in after years long distant,
to revisit these scenes, 1t depends upon ourselves with
what feelings we shall do so. Some of us, alas! will
return, long since shipwrecked on the rocks of indo-
ence or vice, with the sad conviction that their failure
was all their own, to weep over murdered time and
fair occasions lost for ever. Another will re-seek the
garden of his early hopes, the nursery of his after fame,
with a self-satisfaction which no words ean describe,—
the satisfaction of knowing that he has not lived in
vain. It will be far from sad to him to recall the years
he spent with profit here, the opportunities he knew
how to make use of. The very air will breathe again
with the freshness of youth, and spread a sweet calm
over his mind. Each tree in the playing-fields, the
THE ETON BOYS FAREWELL. 53
Long Walk, the school-yard, the river, will bring back
scenes of by-gone happiness, the images of long lost
friends ; and many a trifling circumstance, forgotten
at. the moment, will now recur with a tenfold force to
his recollections, hallowed by the length of time. But
will there be no drawback to his gratification ? no void
—no “something wanting’ to perfect his pleasure ’
Yes, indeed there will! He knows none, and is him-
self unknown ; he feels the weight of solitude rendered
more irksome by being amidst many; he no longer
recognises, in the faces of those that pass him, the
well known features of his early companions, and he
may not mingle in their amusements.’ Every thing
tells him, ’tis Eton still, but Ais Eton no longer. In
short, the friends of his youth, where will they be
then ?—The echo will alone remain to answer to his call.
And this, perhaps, above all other considerations,
should make us sad at leaving Eton. For how few of
us, when once scattered over the broad sea of life ,
will ever behold each other’s faces more! At all
events, we cannot make certain of doing so: and if,
perchance, we do meet in years long hence, in what
different scenes and circumstances shall we be! How
often ere then shall we have been tossed amid the rude
tempests and uncertain tides of fortune!
Farewell, dear Eton ! we leave thee with regret ; and
fain would we linger a little longer in thy peaceful
bosom, before entering on the cold and pathless wild
that lies before. But it may not be. Farewell, then,
once for all; and may the recollection of thee, and of
the principles we have here been taught, be to us a
&
:
o4 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. I.
halo of light to stimulate us to exertion, that in after
years thou may’st not be ashamed to own us for thy sons.
Ne Ne
A GOLDEN summer is past and gone,
And unsparing time still bears me on
To the brink of life’s tempestuous sea,
And the ocean of eternity.
Enough in my sunny boyhood’s hours
Have I toyed with youth’s ambrosial flowers.
Already the pangs of life I feel,
And the cares of manhood around me steal,
As away friends are hurried one by one,
And faces sadden that brightly shone,
And sorrow will moisten the eye, where late
But mirth and gladness and laughter sate —
Thou too must part, not without a tear,
Comrade thro’ Eton’s blest career ;
Thou too must part, and no more that voice
Shall be heard thro’ the fields where all rejoice ;
With other hearts must my own entwine :
When shall I know such a heart as thine?
We're as two leaves on the self-same spray,
Nipped by the cutting wind’s rage away ;
Two pearls on the self-same flower, which morn
Smiled on in brightness, but noon hath borne
One to the sky, and one to the river,
Till they meet im the oeean’s breast for ever.
Thou must to Granta’s time-honoured towers,
I unto soft-flowing Isis’ bowers ;
Both to a world of care and pain.
When shall we know such a life again ?
But what, tho’ thro’ distant lands we range ?
The true heart’s constancy nought can change :
And, tho’ we meet not on life’s dark sea,
Yet shall we meet to eternity.
LINES ADDRESSED TO THE MOON.
‘‘To behold the wandering moon.’’
Ix PENSEROSO.
O s1LENT Moon, when melancholy steals
At times, unseen, my inmost heart within,
Thou art my solace, when, unveiled to earth,
Thou rid’st in heav’n, and hazy twilight dies
Extinguished at thy glance ; while distant sounds,
Like the last flickerings of a midnight lamp,
Throng hurried and tumultuous, soon to fade
In the approaching night. No piercing light,
O moon, is thine, but such as serves to shew
Broad outlines, and soothes down whate’er by day
Offends the eye. O’er tow’r, and field, and wood,
And where the mists of night in the thin air
Hang o’er the rivers, all things seem to lie
Steep’d and enchanted in thy mellow rays.
Then shadowy silence lends her influence
To lead the mind, oppressed with anxious thoughts,
From each particular care, that it may roam
Where’er it lists, in dreamy happiness.
In silent awe all nature worships. Things
Inanimate and animate alike
Send up to thee, and to thy Maker’s praise,
Their nightly adoration. So I too,
- Stricken with all those images, that calm,
Yet move the heart, confess thy reign of peace—
Thy reign-ef peace—and thought, and poetry.
Oft from my window do I gaze on thee,
And long drink in the calm thou giv’st, and love
Thy pale, wan face, that seems to sympathize
With sadness. Thou, with gentle violence
oO ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
Seizing my heart, dost win away the pain,
Or rather, win it into happiness ;
That melancholy’s self doth seem disarmed
Of its sharp sting, and only wounds with peace.
ON THE
ESTIMATE OF FEMALE CHARACTER,
AS DEVELOPED IN THE WRITINGS OF THE ANCIENTS.
*¢ Le donne antiche hanno mirabil cose
Fatto nell’ arme, et nelle sacre Muse ;
E di lor opre belle e gloriose
Gran lume in tutto il mondo si diffuse.”’
ARIOSTO,
Bright dames of old did many a wondrous deed,
In sacred poetry, and knightly arms.
Fame’s lustre thro’ the world is spread; the meed
Of their fair actions, and their glorious charms.
‘‘T wate love,’ says Alczeus, the Messenian, in one
of his Epigrams, but he seems to have half repented
of this harsh sentence, before he has got chrough the
three remaining lines. And verily, it is a terrible and
formidable thing, to renounce the empire of Cupid
altogether, to deny the point of his arrows, when shot
by the dark beaming eyes of some fair girl, an ordeal,
the force of which few of those can have experienced,
ESTIMATE OF FEMALE CHARACTER. 57
who treat love as a mere metaphysical idea, as a con-
venient entity for supplying a place in some favourite
system, instead of the primum mobile, and spring of
all our actions. To such Zoilists in love, we can in
all confidence recommend a dose of 30 or 40 stanzas
of Ariosto or Tasso, to be taken daily, and well di-
gested; and we stake our professional reputation on
its producing a healthy change in a few months. But
it is not our intention here to give directions for en-
gaging the affections of young ladies, being quite
confident that practice is, in that case, the best guide ;
but to offer a few remarks upon the different degrees
of estimation, in which ladies seem to have been held
in the two great nations of antiquity.
It must strike every reader of the Homeric poems,
that there is something in them which hints at an
essentially different estimate of female virtue and
excellence, than that pourtrayed in the next great
delineations of human character, the Dramas of Athens.
In the Odyssey, as might be expected, this is more
apparent, inasmuch, as that is confined to the adven-
tures of one man, and, therefore, gives us a clearer
insight into the domestic and social relations of the
Greeks, to one another, than the other, where war is
the theme, and the deeds and achievements of several
are grouped together. But, nevertheless, how different
is the character of Helen in the Iliad, from that in the
Helena and Orestes of Euripides. With Homer she
is a noble lady, conscious of a fault committed, yet at
the same time appearing to have been led to the com-
mittal of it by the impulse of a superior power—
F
58 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
affectionate to all around her, as fully appears in the
exquisitely beautiful speech, which she makes as the
third mourner over the corse of Hector. There is
something too very touching in the kind and respectful
way Priam treats her in the 3rd book, during the
combat of Menelaus and Paris, unmindful of the
calamities which, through her, are about to fall on him
and his race. Shakspeare, whose knowledge of man-
kind seems to have amounted to little less than abso-
lute intuition, has excellently preserved both these
points in his play of Troilus and Cressida, where he
represents her commanding as much respect from the
warriors of Troy, as any fair Helen of the present day
could wish for. She appears also in the Odyssey,
though with a less degree of interest, but the same
sweetness and grace, never for a moment desert her.
She is a queen, but what is more, she is a lady, and
Homer alone, of the ancient poets, has been able to
unite the two. The character of Penelope is rather
obscured by that of her husband. She seems drawn
with a studied coldness, in order to give greater force
to the beautifully imagined scene of her recognition
with Ulysses—a scene which few can read without
feeling its transcendant art and beauty. The two
remaining female characters, which serve to elucidate
what we are saying, are those of Andromache and
Nausicaa; the former of which, perhaps, has never
been equalled—and there could hardly be selected
anything which would shew more clearly the supe-
riority of Homer over every other poet, than a com-
parison of her parting with Hector and Tecmessa’s
ESTIMATE OF FEMALE CHARACTER. 59
speech to Ajax, or her Homeric character with that
depicted in Euripides’ play, which bears her name.
The Nausicaa of Sophocles is lost, but more than
Sophoclean art would be required to produce an equal
impression on the mind, with that left by the short
notice we have of the daughter of Alcinous in the
sixth book of the Odyssey.
To descend to the creations of the drama, the first
grand character that strikes us is that of Clytemnestra,
we mean, of course, that drawn by Adschylus, not those
by the other two dramatists. In one point of view,
in that of resolute determination and boldness in
crime, and the means she uses in order to accomplish
her preconceived design, she is fully equal to Lady
Macbeth: but once divest yourself of this idea, and
consider her in any other aspect, how quickly does
the spirit of the age break forth, and reduce her to
the 8wudrwr pbraé, only one degree above a mere ser-
vant, instead of the noble wife that Shakspeare’s
parallel presents us with. Both are equal in the aggre-
gate, but the two qualities are differently combined.
The interest in Lady Macbeth wanes after the murder
of Duncan, and becomes centered in her husband : in
Clytemnestra it is kept up to the end, and her ex-
ultation, in the avenging blow of retribution, dealt by
her hand, and the entire, as it were, expansion of her
character, is by far the grandest conception in the
Greek Drama. In Sophocles, Antigone, Electra,
Deianira, and Tecmessa, are the chief female characters,
among whom the first place is due to Antigone. Yet
even we feel Antigone to be somewhat unfeminine ;
Er 2
a
60 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
she must be heroic to be interesting, and in pushing
this idea, the poet has let slip, to a certain degree, the
other ; as to combine them, was then next to impos-
sible. Besides, we must remember, that Greek plays
were not intended for reading, but for a stage, and
that too, where expression both of face and voice was
utterly annihilated, and such a thing as a female actor
was unknown. Hence all the beauties we admire so
much in Juliet or Desdemona would have been utterly
lost on a Greek audience, they would have been passed
over unheeded and unappreciated. Deianira is a more
accurate delineation of feminine character, but this, as
in the case of Tecmessa, is counterbalanced by a loss
of interest, and indeed the Trachiniz has always been
considered to hold the lowest place among the extant
writings of Sophocles. To bring forward instances
from Euripides would be useless—his well known
misogynism speaks for itself—and hence, almost all
his female personages of any note are represented in
unnatural circumstances—Medea, Phedra, Macaria,
Alcestis, all are brought forward as under the influence
of passions, either absurdly romantic, or revoltingly
unnatural— oisty Fv rie "Adpodirne ato.
Rome possesses so few evidences that have reached
our time, concerning its domestic sympathies and
relations, that we are here less able to form any decided
opinion as to the degree of estimation in which ladies
were held, than in the older and parent country. The
Roman dramas yet extant, (setting aside those of
Seneca), are mere adaptations of the earlier works of
Menander, which, in the first instance, were necessarily
ESTIMATE OF FEMALE CHARACTER. 61
circumscribed by the restrictions of the New Comedy
—whereas, Aristophanes, Cratinus, and Eupolis could
select their materials from scenes of every day life, and
hence have transmitted to us a faithful picture of
Athenian character and feeling. Yet few can read
the Epistles and other amatory works of Ovid, Tibullus,
and Propertius, without perceiving the exquisite fitness
of Latin to sing
Le donne, i cavalier, l’arme, gli amori,
Le cortesie, l’audaci impresse—
“* Ladies, and cavaliers, and arms, and loves,
And courteous actions, enterprises bold :”’—
and that more especially, inasmuch as it has given
rise to the language, to which of all others belongs
the power of clothing such ideas in the most graceful
and melodious dress. Always, excepting those two
immortal odes of Sappho, we doubt whether the Latin,
as a language for love, does not take precedence of
even the Greek. It may be objected that this is
immaterial, and that it is not of importance to know
whether the one or the other excel in this particular,
in order to judge of the estimation then generally
entertained of the fair sex at Rome—but we cannot
help believing that the structure of a language is, in
most cases, an index to the general tone of feeling
among those who speak it, though we may not be
able to trace this principle out with great exactness.
The Ionic and Doric Dialects are an instance of this.
From these considerations we may infer that the ladies
of Rome enjoyed a greater degree of freedom than
those of Athens, and this liberty will, in some measure,
62 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
account for the excessive wickedness of the female
part of the Roman population under the Emperors,
unveiled to posterity by the powerful hand of Juvenal.
Excessive restraint or liberty produce both equally
bad effects—and examples of either may be seen in
the histories of Athens and Rome. At the former, where
women were little more than menials, where a wife was
necessary toa citizen merely from her domestic useful-
ness, we see the degraded form under which love was
generally known to the ancients, though so wonderfully
described in their writings. On the other hand, the laxity
that prevailed at Rome, produced effects, which it needs
but the name of Clodius or Elagabalus to recall to
every one’s recollection. In Greece the standard of
female virtue seems to have degenerated from the
Homeric times,—in Rome, so far at least as we are
enabled to judge from the scanty notices preserved to
us of its ancient condition, it never appears to have
varied, Of course the luxury and general enervation
of the Roman state, in its later periods, had its effect
on this also, as on all else—but concerning the pro-
gress of the change, the scarceness of evidence forbids
us to form an opinion. But just when the iniquity
of Rome was full, when the foundations of the empire,
thoroughly rotten from internal causes, were beginning
to give way, and drag the world back to barbarism,
the power of the Christian religion began to act as a
counter-poise, and to this, and to the modification
which it gave to the profession of arms, reproducing
them almost anew under the form of Chivalry, must
IN MEMORY OF A DEAR FRIEND, 63
be ascribed the honour and respect now deservedly
paid to ladies throughout all civilized nations.
Fh i. ©.
IN MEMORY OF A DEAR FRIEND.
‘‘Cui pudor et Justitiz soror
Incorrupta fides nudaque veritas
Quando ullum inveniet parem ?
Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit ;
Nulli flebilior quam mihi !”’
Horace, Carm. Lis. I. 24.
Unper the cypress shade,
Lowly thou now art laid ;
Light be thy slumbers, sweet spirit, we pray :
Rest, till the cherubim,
Soaring o’er cloudlets dim,
Herald the morning of ne’er ending day!
Earth was too full of weeds,
Nor are God’s choicest seeds,
Destined for ever their bloom to display.
Earth is a wilderness ;
Short lived in loveliness,
Flowers are born but to breathe and decay!
Robed in a purity,
Apt for eternity :
Thine was the soul from hypocrisy free ;
Nor does the ocean’s pearl,
Rest in his airy shell,
Purer, than rested thy spirit im thee !
64,
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
Comrades in loneliness,
Aids to our thoughtfulness.
Love lit a trembling flame, hope fanned the pile :
Tears were forbidden,
Clouds, ye were hidden,
Destined to roughen the calm of our smile !
Go, seek a foreign clime,
Blooming in manhood’s prime!
Shortly transplanted from earthly alloy,
Flourish in Paradise !
Go! bid our rainy eyes
Put out the meteor-like spark of our joy !
Not in the curtained room,
Not in the silent gloom,
Saw we thee give up thy fast fleeting breath ;
No, nor thy glazed eye,
Blind in the vacancy,
Locked in the icy embraces of death!
Such our probation,
What consolation
Sweetens our chalice embittered with sighs ?
What! shall no kindly heart
Heal our affection’s smart,
Lighten our burden, and bid us arise !
He who on Patmos’ isle,*
Free from all human guile,
Drank in a voice from celestial spheres ;
He, who by purity,
Saw through futurity,
Bids us be reassured, wipes off our tears !
* St. John, Rev. xiv. 13.
ON ETON AMUSEMENTS. 69
Hark to the chilly grave :—
“Mourners, God took and gave ;
Weep not a spirit eternally blest ;
Follow me, here is peace ;
Follow me, troubles cease ;
Fnends, be partakers of heavenly rest !””
Such sounds in fancy’s ear,
Mourning, we love to hear.
Meanwhile the whispering billows condole ;
Hark ! how the waters free,
(Nature’s stern sympathy, )
Restlessly rollmg, sing peace to thy soul!
Oh ! at the trumpet’s sound,
Shake off thy sleep profound !
Burst from terrestrial tenements free !
Spirit victorious,
Sainted and glorious,
Oh ! to abide among seraphs with thee !
ON ETON AMUSEMENTS.
‘* Juvenis jam victor ovans vestigia presso
Haud tenuit titubata solo.”
Virg. An. vy. 331.
SIR,
When I first came to Eton, I was naturally
fond of observing, as every one is, the respective merits
of my schoolfellows in their respective pursuits,
whether of learning or of amusement. I could have
readily pointed out the scholar and medallist of the
66 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
year, and could, I dare say, have repeated without
much consideration the list of “the select.” I make
no doubt whatever, but that I could have enumerated
the “ Eight,” beginning from bow to stroke or from
stroke to bow, with as much ease as I could have
repeated the celebrated the Greek grammar rule
“ Octo habet terminationes, &c.” \ , 50
EGOET OUCETOT EiC VOTEPOV’ OV yap TEdEXELC pddwY
~ A.
twv ék [ltepiac’ add’ adarie knv ’Aida ddépuolg
~ 9D ~
polractic TES auavpwy vekbwy éxTEeTOTAMEVG.
IpeM LATINE REDDITUM.
Quin leto jaceas perpetuo, nec memores tui
Voces te celebrent, Pierize participem rose ;
Ast incorporea ac sub tenebris Tartarezee domis
Exiles volitans per Lemures tu spatiabere.
Iprmm ANGLICE.
Lie in the grave, unheeded lie; no memory of thee
Shall live hereafter ; not for thee Pierian roses bloom.
In Pluto’s murky mansions a wanderer shalt thou be ;
Flitting amid th’ unbodied shades in the cold and dreary tomb.
Wi H.C.
SO ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. II.
i?’ aveuoc yevounv, ov €& ye orelyovca Tap aKrTac
o7nOea yuuvwoae, kal pe TvéovTa Aaf3ore.
le pddov yevdunv AEvKdXpooY, Oppa ME XEPtY
apapéva, Kopioarc orhDeor xLovéote.
Ex ANTHOLOGIA.
I would I were a roving wind,
Whilst thou wert straying by the shore ;
Imprisoned in thy bosom kind,
The laughing waves I’d tempt no more.
I would I were a fair white rose,
To live amid thy bosom’s snows.
H. E. L.
While on the cliff with calm delight she kneels,
And the blue vales a thousand joys recall ;
See to the last, last verge her infant steals ;
O, fly ! yet stir not, speak not, lest it fall.
Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare,
And the fond boy springs back to nestle there.
RoceErs.
novxla kAwOcioa meTpac UTEP, ayKoc EAEVoTED
KUavEoV, Kpadiac 6 OpvuTat Evppoobyn’
we © Eda itcépTwy malic Sppva’ Tpdcdpaue, LATE,
pn o& Spauyc—olynv avr’ Exe, ) TpoTécy.
MaoTOV yuuvwoaca, odhn TALoY EVPETO’ “aoTOV
we TAXOC auPeXVOn, tpdacDev EpadrAcduevoc.
p.
CATULLUS, Carm. LVI. Ep. CooKkeEstety.
Ir aught of pleasure to the silent tomb,
My Calvus, from our sorrow, e’er can come,
From those regrets which former loves renew,
Those tears which friendship’s long lost ties bedew,
Thy lost one ne’er at her sad fate can be
So grieved, as happy in thy constancy.
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE.
No. III.
ANALYSIS OF AN ESSAY UPON THE
COLLEGE CHAPEL.
** Miscentur sacra profanis.’’—Hor.
‘* Thro’ thick and thin the critics dash,
Mixing diviner things with trash.’’
We have for some time been engaged in a specu-
lation as to the chief points of excellency in which a
‘* beau ideal’ of a prose article for our Magazine ought
to consist. At last we have been so fortunate as to
realise our fondest conceptions. ‘This inestimable
treasure, in the pursuit of which a life of labour might
have been spent in vain, has at length, by one of those
chances which occur perhaps but once in a century,
thrust itself as it were into our very hands; descended
from the soaring imagination of the philosopher, and
illumined with its presence the tangible recesses of
our editorial bureau.
It came in the shape of “‘ An Essay on the Chapel.”
But stop; we must first explain to our readers the
reason we have for contaminating this immortal work,
by interspersing it with our own grovelling remarks.
H
82 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
The fact is this, —afraid of departing from that imme-
morial custom belonging to periodicals, of reviewing
some epic poem, or other mighty work of genius, we
have seized upon this before us; impelled not a little,
perhaps, by the hope that presents itself of gliding
into immortality im its train.
The commencement of this master-work, striking
in its simplicity, is as follows :—
« As the Chapel is at present an object of interest to all Etomians,
we propose to devote a portion of our present number to this
subject.”
Now, besides the inestimable qualities of style which
this sentence discovers, it possesses attractions for us,
as Editors, in which our readers cannot participate.
We allude to the kindness of this great unknown
genius, in taking our unworthy publication, not only
into his notice, but under his very patronage and
direction, as manifested in his using the word ‘‘ we,”
and speaking of these mortal pages, as “‘ our present
number.” What thanks can we render for such con-
descension ?
But to proceed :—
“Entering at the usual Fifth-form door, we are astonished at
finding on the stair those cumbrous wooden pillars which formed a
part of the ante-chapel. Having arrived at which, we are told, that
here there will be no alteration, but its diminution to one-half its
former size. And also the removal hither of one or two mural tablets,
amongst which the by-lower-boys-often-read-and-frequently-repeated
monument, ‘ Me forte lector.’ ”’
How graphic is this description! How clearly does
the expression, ‘‘ fifth-form door,” bring before our
eyes the particular entrance described! And how
THE COLLEGE CHAPEL. 83
touchingly does he subsequently bring home to our
minds the disordered state of the “stair,” by tripping
us in the very threshold over “ the cumbrous wooden
pillars’? Here how much is left to the suggestion of
each individual imagination. What a beautiful field
here opens itself for the speculative power of the
reader, with regard to the intended antecedent of the
relative, in the sentence ‘‘ having arrived at which,”
He might have said, Having arrived here; but how
much would the harmony and flow of this perfect
sentence have suffered by the change. And how
would the admirable perspicuity in the definition of
the exact inch of ground, on which he at this period is
pleased to place us, be impaired.
All this gradually prepares us for the announce-
ment, that “‘ here there will be no alteration;” although
the sight of the cumbrous wooden pillars may at first
have inclined us to a contrary opinion. It also might
have occurred to us, that a “ diminution to one-half
1ts former size,” could, with some awkwardness per-
haps, but nevertheless could be construed into an
alteration. This, however, is not for us to decide.
We have, ‘‘en passant,” perceived an evident ana-
logy between Homer and our friend, (if we may dare
to call him by such a familiar title,) which will fully
account for the truthful and aptly-comed epithet
which closes this sentence. Under this head may also
be classed that primeval simplicity of language, which
prompts him to use the word monument, in the etymo-
logical sense of the word, as being any species of
record; and so more applicable to the inscription than
H 2
Z a
f
*
84 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
the medium upon which it is inscribed, namely, the
‘mural tablet” itself. For some unreasonable persons,
not understanding this, have objected to the usage of
the words ‘* read” and “ repeated.” We advise young
contributors to attend to this example. But to our
author.
‘* Provost Goodall’s monument is now removed to a space oppo-
site the font. In preparing the foundation for its unwieldy dimen-
sions, they unfortunately disturbed the remains of an Eton boy,
who died here 100 years ago, aged 11.”
The principal beauty of this sentence lies in the last
clause, —it strikes us at the very outset,—‘ They
unfortunately.” With what a charming delicacy does
this remove from our mind all low ideas concerning
workmen and hammers, noise and rubbish. For we
are not so blind as to fail in at once discovering, that
the ‘‘ they” must refer to the “ unwieldy dimensions”
before mentioned.
But what eye does not fill with tears at the thoughts
of the object which “they” disturbed? Does not this
suggest more than the “ funus acerbum” of Virgil, or
the “ Oavi d: EdvO0c¢ MeAéaypoc” of Homer. And how
much is our interest heightened by the mention of the
age and date. Who, on perusing them, does not,
after a few minutes calculation, exclaim,—‘“ If that
boy were alive now, he would be an hundred and
eleven years of age?”
But what says he next ?
«¢ And now we exclaim, ‘ Where is the organ loft?’ For ever gone!
And with it that most odious custom of going up into the gallery on
Election Sunday afternoon, after having taken leave. As we pass
under the arch which separates the choir from the ante-chapel, we
THE COLLEGE CHAPEL. 85
ebserve that formerly an arch of greater span than the present one
originally existed. Let us hope that it will be restored !”
How grandly abrupt is this commencement! Yet
who does not in a humbler strain immediately feel
himself mentally making the same exclamation? Does
not the remembrance of the “ odious custom” imme-
diately flash across our minds; and do not we, with the
same heartfelt thankfulness, give vent to the “ for ever
gone!” Besides, how beautifully true, and how intel-
ligible to all readers is the expression ‘‘ after having
taken leave?’’ No unnecessary mention is made of per-
sons or things, of whom leave is taken. No common-
place allusion to the transition from white to rainbow-
coloured neckcloths, and such-like. All this 1s left to
the imagination; and what imagination does it not
awaken ?
We are assured that the contrast between the lighter
language of the acute observer of surrounding objects
displayed in the next sentence, and the dignified aspira-
tions of the last, will not be lost upon our readers. What
versatility of style is here, and at the same time how
easily and imperceptibly does this peaceful change steal
upon our ears! In this place our author appears fora
moment to have lost sight of his usual terseness; when
we see the words ‘“‘ formerly” and “originally” both
applied to the same subject. This however in our eyes
is a beauty. Leave out either one of these words, and
how insipid is the sentence! the vague antiquity of the
one being balanced by the pleasing certainty and
definitiveness with regard to the origin of the arch con-
veyed by the other. But our readers are burning to
see more of this great work.
86 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
“And now for the frescoes ; which are for the most part Popisis
Jegends of the Virgin Mary, selected chiefly from Vincentius and the
Legenda Aurea; (we may here remark, that the chapel is dedicated
in honour of St. Marie.) The most curious legend is as follows:
A soldier had agreed to sell his wife to Satan, when, as he was leading
her to fulfil his agreement, the Virgin assumes the form of the wife,
and on reaching the appointed spot the Devil flies away from the
Virgin, at the same time reproaching the soldier for having broken
his contract. Under each compartment is the reference to Vin-
centius, by which means the stories have now been made out. Let
us hope that the authorities will allow some account, as also copies,
of these most interesting and curious relics of medizeval art to be
published.”
Ill-minded persons have accused our author of a
more familiar expression than beseems his dignity in
the “‘ Now for the frescoes.”’ Asif he considered ‘‘ these
most curious and interesting relics of medieval art’ in
the light of some feast or ordinary show. For our part,
it seems only to prove his eagerness to enter, with
naiveté, on this part of his work, and prepares us for
the extraordinary descriptions which follow.
We could here wish that his native modesty had not
prevented him from fully displaying that knowledge, of
which he gives us so tantalizing a glimpse. He has
done enough, however, to betray the deeply-read
scholar and the antiquarian. We are also struck with
admiration at his novel use of the brackets ; for paren-
thesis we can hardly call that which occurs at the end
of asentence. We have seen clauses of this sort added
on, with simply the interposition ofa colon ; but we
need scarcely point out to the intelligent reader, the
advantages of this excellent innovation. As to the
Legend, we will not mar this: clear and concise little
tale by any commentary, beyond pointing out another
THE COLLEGE CHAPEL. 87
instance of the effective manner in which our author,
Homer-like, leaves it to the imagination to fill up the
void as to the whereabouts of the wife during the
transaction, as well as to her ultimate destiny.
The admirable use of the spirited particles “and
now at the commencement of two successive para-
graphs, and the conclusion of the same paragraphs by
the reiterated professions of firm yet modest hope, can-
not be passed by in silence :— Although some miserable
persons have raised an objection against them on the
plea of monotony and needless repetition. For our
part, we would rather be the author of those few words,
than gain the Newcastle Scholarship.
We have now only to regret that space precludes the
possibility of our admitting a larger portion of the blaze
of this stupendous luminary to the eyes of our dazzled
readers at present. Let them prepare their smoked
glasses against our next number.
[It is but fair to say that the following piece is from the pen of a former
school-fellow, who has left about a year and a half. MWHenceforth we intend
devoting a certain portion—not a very large one—to foreign contributions. The
letter which accompanied the following was too complimentary to be passed over
in silence. |
THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A SCENE IN
THE VALE OF LLANGOLLEN.
THE moon was up, and o’er Llangollen’s vale,
Beneath the canopv of heaven spread,
In solemn stillness crept ; o’er hill and dale,
O’er all around, her holy influence shed,
88
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Il.
And softly smiled, as from an opening cloud
The face of sleeping Nature she beheld,
In silence wrapt, as though within the shroud
Of death it lay, and there entranced was held.—
It is a sight of passing loveliness
At such a time to gaze on such a scene,
Alone and silent, as the loneliness
And silence there: and with the silver sheen
Of that fair orb to feel your soul can ring
In holy sympathy, which like a thing
Of hfe and love ean steal within the heart,
And resting there a kindred rest impart.
So sleeping Nature pleased—so silent all—
I thought, I almost wished, she ne’er would wake :
But with the thought the distant waterfall
Came roaring on th’ unwilling ear, and brake
The charm—as if some hideous dream were there
Intruding, where all else was holy peace ;
As if some bitter thought, some secret care,
Still rankled in her bosom ill at ease.
I gazed, and could not tear myself away
From such excess of loveliness—my brain
With rapture whirled, and then the fitful play
Of Superstition o’er my senses came.
My mind from Nature unto Nature’s God
Rose with emboldened flight—the ground I thought
Was holy, where my impious footsteps trod ;
For sure, I deemed, Creation ne’er had wrought
So fair a work for sinful, erring, Man.
Still fierce, and fiercer still, the frenzy grew
Upon my brain. With wilder transport ran
Delirium, and still wilder pictures drew,
As to my aching eye the vault above
THOUGHTS SUGGESTED. 89
Revealed: its inner glory ; and on high
Upon the seat of Mercy and of Love
Enthroned, The Holy One, The Deity
Incomprehensible, The First and Last—
Before Whose dread and awful Majesty
A throng of Saints and Angels ever cast
Immortal crowns in blissful ecstacy ;
While Cherubim and Seraphim among
Hosannas loud and Hallelujahs rung.
Forgive, O God, that hideous sim—forgive
The brain bewildered, that presumed to pry
Into eternity, and dared decry
The God that mortal may not see, and live.
Remember, Lord, that in the very clay,
Wherewith from model of Divinity
Thy power creative fashioned Man, the ray
Of light, with wholesome capability
Of vision fraught, was not imprinted there
Alone; but to assist the eye, and lend
A telescope to sight. Thy constant care
For Man, and providential goodness, deigned
A mind to add—a comprehensive soul,
Perfect in every part, and in the whole
Divine ; a faculty that might compare
Thy various works—a judgment to discern—
A genius to embody—all was there.
And though Imagination should not turn
To superstitious Phantasy, and burst
The bonds of Reason—yet unmoved the eye
Can never gaze on such a scene—it durst
Not unabashed behold the Deity
Reflected there, nor feel a transport high
Of mind and soul an impious ecstacy.
90
THE HALCYON.
Ou whither art thou flying on thy brightly glancing wing,
That rivals with its glossy hue the fairest tints of spring ?
And wherefore leavest thou the earth, its calmness and its rest,
To skim with quivering pinions old Ocean’s hoary breast ?
Where highest rise the angry crests of the foam-tossing waves,
Where in their depths the lightning its blazing arrows laves,
Where loudest roars the thunder and the wind, my fairy form
Is seen amidst the tumult, sole Empress of the storm.
Regardless of their threatening looks, ’neath which all mortals bow,
I fly along—they hurt me not—they cannot hurt me now ;
For see, beneath my pinions bright the flashing waves subside,
The angry winds within their caves low-muttering abide.
The lightning flashes fainter yet, and now tis seen no more,
The thunder rolling distantly is heard along the shore,
And smiling through the murky clouds the Sun outpours his light,
And the subsiding billows ’neath his beams are dancing bright.
The storm-tossed mariner is glad as o’er the crested wave
My form he sees—he knows it well—he knows its power to save,
For merrily through the waves his bark with lightning speed is
borne,
And reaching soon the wished-for port, he hails the cloudless morn !
On the broad bosom of the sea, like crystal, clear and calm,
I build my nest, I rear my young, secure from care and harm,
And far in those green caverns, ‘neath the unfathom’d ocean stream,
I seek my food and refuge from the noonday’s scorching beam.
And when the Sun in western waves has dipped his fiery feet,
And the mild zephyr, whispering low, comes twilight cool to meet,
My pinions glancing bright once more o’er the calm sea will come,
And resting on the dewy earth I’ll seek my own loved home.
BiG. ee
on
EVENING HYMN.
Patri debitum honorem
Demus beneficiorum,
Luce nobis acceptorum.
Nos, supreme Regum Pater,
Tuum numen tueatur,
Velut pullos avis Mater.
Solve cuncti me peccati,
Die forte perpetrati ;
Crucifixi causa nati:
Requiescam dulciore,
Tui vicinique amore,
Quam vel placido sopore.
Veree degam pietatis
Vitam, tuis sub mandatis,
Quze supremis servent fatis.
Tua fulta vi serena,
Somni vincta mens catena
Sopiatur absque pcena.
Tuze laudi gnaviorem
Me remittat post soporem
Virtus munerum tuorum.
Si sit nox msomni dura,
Requiescam sine cura,
Visa fugiens impura.
Preesens esto, sitque stratum
Tua cura ter beatum,
Nec timore perturbatum.
92 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
Regem summee majestatis,
Fontem veree pietatis,
Quis laudare possit satis ?
Cujus laudes, cum beato
Spiritu, sanctoque Nato,
Terra, ccelum, celebrato.
pay.
ON TRAVELS AND FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS.
Quze nunc divitibus gens acceptissima nostris
Et quos preecipué fugiam, properabo fateri,
Nec pudor obstabit. Non possum ferre, Quirites,
Greecam urbem.
Juv. Sav. III.
The cheated nation’s happy favourites see,
Mark whom the great caress, who frown on me;
* * * * *
Excuse my transports in a theme like this,
I cannot bear a French metropolis.
JOHNSON’S ‘* Lonpon.”’
Wuen the stern old moralist put this sarcasm into
the mouth of Umbricius, as he is departing, a volun-
tary exile from the pollutions of the metropolis, he
may have been actuated by a little of that exclusive
bigotry which called every one a barbarian who was
not a Roman. For although luxury was unknown to
Rome till her conquest of Greece, yet their intercourse
ON TRAVELS AND FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 93
with that nation brought many positive advantages
with it, as one of their writers confesses, who himself
was indebted to the Greek language for his most
elegant imagery and tenderness of expression; and
the disadvantages which did accrue from that conquest
consisted in the reaction which the importation of
Greek luxury produced on the stern, over-masculine
character—the bigoted John-Bullism, if I may so term
it—of her citizens. Such luxuries were not hurtful
to the Greeks, whose virtue taught them moderation ;
but the Romans, to whom they had been so long un-
known, plunged into them with eagerness, proportion-
ate to their former abstinence.
Without arrogating to France the virtues and
bravery of Greece, or to ourselves the Cato-like bar-
barism of Rome, I may assert that our straight-forward
honesty and manliness of character are compromised
by the effeminacies—to call them by no harsher term
—which our countrymen import from France. We
suffer a conquered nation, not fit to be hewers of wood
and drawers of water to our own, to corrupt our
morals, and spoil us of our religion. We prefer
everything French to the manufactures of our own
country ; as we prefer French cooks and French gover-
nesses, not from their superior merit, but because they
are French. In short, we are directed in all these
things by that plaguy goddess—almost the only deity
that France has owned since the days of the goddess of
reason——Fashion !
Perhaps no question has caused so much difference
of opinion, as that of foreign travel. Certainly it is
94 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
in many respects highly beneficial: it enlarges the
mind, it increases the dignity of man’s nature, and,
moreover, the impartial inquirer into the political and
religious aspect of contemporary nations, may, by
ocular demonstration, set his mind at rest on those
points, of which the mere recollections of others would
fail to convince him.
Further, it is natural that in the infancy of a nation
the wisest and most trustworthy men in it should visit
foreign countries, and by studying the laws and cus-
toms of other nations be able to construct a form of
government, and a system of civilization for their
own. ‘Thus acted the ancient lawgivers of Greece and
Rome. But when a nation had arrived at mature
manhood, and equalled, if not surpassed, each contem-
porary government, this was no longer necessary.
‘When the channels of science were not freely opened,
access was had to the fountain ; but it became unne-
cessary to repair to the source, when the stream was
suffered to diffuse itself.’’*
Lastly, it is said that the accurate acquisition of
foreign languages can be gained only in the country
where they are spoken: this is one of the best reasons
that can be offered in favour of the practice of travel.
At the same time, [ cannot but think that any nicety
of pronunciation which may be taught in this way,
should hardly be put into the scale against the folly and
depravity which a youth, cereus in vitium flecti, infal-
libly contracts abroad.
* Oxford Prize Essays, Vol. I. p. 5.
ON TRAVELS AND FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 95
Let me not be misunderstood: I am not speaking
contemptuously of those who travel for the acquisition
of knowledge, and turn that knowledge on their return
to the benefit of their country. None can speak
against this and know the names of Pococke and
Clarke. But when a serious-minded man, anxious for
his country’s good and his own, considers the disad-
vantage of yearly wintering in France, he would be
almost tempted to denounce travelling altogether. It
is one thing, however, to travel with the intention of
seeing the manners and customs of each foreign people,
and another to naturalize yourself year after year in
one particular country, because you prefer it to your
own. The former is especially laudable, the other pro-
ceeds from a principle utterly wrong—from a hanker-
ing after a freer life, and more congenial tastes than
can be found at home.
The prospects of France, political and religious,
must fill the calm observer with alarm. Were France
a remote nation which nobody cared about, in some
desert of Africa; or were she bounded by a wall within
which none but Frenchmen dwelt, there would be no
reasonable hindrance to her cutting the king’s throat
to-morrow, and establishing again the reign of terrors,
and the apotheosis of the Goddess of Reason. Untor-
tunately her affairs are so interwoven with those of her
neighbours, her disturbances embroil so many nations,
that, as Napoleon said, “a revolution in France 1s a
revolution in Europe.”
None can contemplate the French Revolution with-
out horror, except Mr. Leigh Hunt, and men of his
96 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
school ; at least, few English people would wish to
have another taste of it in the incendiary fires of
Bristol, Nottingham, and Birmingham. After such
awful warnings, such bitter experience of the evils of
anarchy and atheism, we had hoped for improvement,
and national reformation, even there. Notwithstanding,
that national frippery, that superficial easiness of cha-
racter, which marked them then, is still at work,
utterly debasing them, and rendering them almost the
lowest in the scale of civilized nations.
“ Picta croco et fulgenti murice vestis,
Desidize cordi, juvat indulgere choreis,
Et tunicze manicas et habent redimicula mitre ;
O! veré Phrygize, neque enim Phryges.”’
Alas! there is the same contempt for religion and
its ministers, as in the days preceding the Revolution,
when kings conspired against the Lord’s anointed, and
Frederick and Catherine of Prussia applauded the
sage of Ferney; when the church of Bossuet and
Fenelon, of Pascal and Saurin, was called L’infame !
‘‘ Christianity,” says Dr. Wordsworth, in his Diary in
France, “ has become obsolete as a safeguard of poli-
tical institutions; and a religious foundation is no
longer necessary to the fabric of government. Certain
it is that the throne of France has at present no reli-
gious foundation.” Finally, that profession of Chris-
tianity which caused the king to be styled Christian-
assimus, has been discarded, and the words ‘“ Dez
gratia’”’ struck out of his coins. The first public in-
stitutions, the University, the College, and the Academy
of France, openly professes the doctrines of philosophy,
ON TRAVELS AND FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 97
that is, atheism. The Government is nominally mo-
narchical, but there is no aristocracy of birth or wealth
there; no church establishment, no religion, and no
morals. This people the English youth are taught, or
teach themselves, to honour and patronize.
Now it has been said, that the great defect in the
Enelish character is want of polish. So, forsooth,
our countrymen must needs cross the straits, to wipe
off this national stain! It may be fashionable to
complain of English roughness, English bad manners,
and so forth; but as long as Britons have a name to
protect, and sacred privileges to watch over, their time
will be better employed in that way, than in acquiring
a nicety of pronunciation in the language and among
the countrymen of du grande nation, or cultivating the
fripperies of ultra-refinementt.
It is to France, then, that noble lords and others of
our fashionable countrymen point as a model for Eng-
land, with its easy uninterrupted course of pleasures,
its steeple-chasing and theatre-going, uninterrupted by
Sunday’s rest, and its licentiousness, free from the
trammels of English virtue and modesty, unalarmed
by that peculiarity of the unpolished nation,—a belief in
God, the Avenger, the Judge! And we are recom-
mended to adopt the motherly guidance of France in
our manners ; we may hence gain liberalism and re-
finement: and young England may shake off the
superstitious barbarisms of the age, and fearlessly ap-
proach that poimt, whither their fathers might have
been led—but for their credulous tenacity of old cus-
toms—by Hume and Chesterfield.
I
98 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
I hope that the remarks I have made will affront no
one. My object is simply this:—Youth is naturally
ductile, apt to engage in pleasures to excess. France,
then, is a nation which has peculiar charms for them.
Here they may find brilliant wit and national l’égerete;
here they may plunge into public amusements every
day, and all day long: and these will soon leave higher
considerations far behind them.
1 wish then every one to travel, to judge for himself
of each foreign nation—but not to live abroad, particu-
larly in France, a nation of anarchists and atheists,
who would rejoice to see England enervated by their
refined pleasures, and take the opportunity of knock-
ing her on the head.
ANTI-GALLUS.
FROM GEORGE HERBERT.
‘¢ Sweet Day, so cool, &c.’’
Lux tranquilla, nitens, frigida, nuptias
Tellurem celebrans inter et ethere,
Te sub nocte mori vos viduus gemet ;
Tu vite brevis occides.
O cw gemmula cernentibus evocat
Fixi oris lacrymas, acre rubens rosa!
Radix illa suo sub tumulo latet ;
Tu vitze brevis occides.
THE DEATH OF HERO AND LEANDER. 99
Ver, aprica rose tempora proferens,
Vas, in quo decor et sparsus odor nitet,
Vite musa canit te breve ; cum rosa
Cui curtum decus occidet.
At justorum animus, rité vigens, trabes
Duratze veluti, cedere nesciet ;
Quum terrestria vis hauserit ignea,
Vita vivus erit nova.
C. B. B.
THE DEATH OF HERO AND LEANDER.
From Muszus, 309—340.
*Twas night, and the blasts with their terrible breath
Were rife with the chill winds of Winter and Death,
And lashed without ceasing the rocks with the tide ;
When Leander, in hope of his beauteous bride,
Accustomed each night her long vigil to keep,
Was borne on the back of the ill-omened deep
Now wave rolled on wave, and the water rose high,
And the sea sent defiance aloft to the sky ;
The winds in contention around were engaged,
And Zephyr with Eurus in strife fiercely raged,
And South hurled to North mighty threats in disdain,
Returned by the roar of the clamorous main.
While wretched Leander in wild eddies torn,
That laughed the soft voice of enchantment to scorn,
Offered many a vow to the ocean-born Queen,
And to Neptune, who reigns in the watery sheen,
And besought the stern North to remember the pam
That he once had endured the fair Atthis to gain.
But vainly he prayed, and in Death’s evil hour
Even Love nought availed him ’gainst Destiny’s power :
no
100 . ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. MI.
And battered around by th’ encountering might
Of the sea, madly raging in Cupid’s despite, —
His feet ’gan to fail, though, still stiffly before him,
His arm cut the waves, and a little upbore him.
But the terrible wave filled his mouth, and each time
Gave him many a draught of the conquering brine.
Then vanished the treacherous light ’neath the blast,
And the life and the love of Leander were past !
But Hero still watched, and Leander delayed,
And sad grew the thoughts of the fair love-lorn maid ;
And spring-born Aurora at last broke the night,
But she brought not the long-truant youth with her light ;
While Hero’s soft eye scanned the wild raging storm,
Perchance to discern the loved wanderer’s form
Tossed about by the waves, since the winds on the stream
Of Helle that night forbad torches to gleam.
But when ’mid the breakers his corpse she descried
Swayed hither and thither, all gored by the tide,
She leapt from the tower—the sad vigil was over,
And Hero fell dead on the corpse of her lover!
D. M. C.
ON THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION.
To those who have nearly completed their education
ata public school, and are on the point of leaving it
for a wider sphere of action—at least to the greater
part of them—the question of a profession will natu-
rally suggest itself. There are but few here whose
prospects in life will admit of their being bred to no
profession, and still fewer to whom some such employ-
ment would not be beneficial, as tending to preserve
them from idleness, from dissipation, and from ennui.
ON THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 101
The dolce far niente of the Italians forms no part of
the English character; and there can be no doubt that
even those who are placed above the necessity of fol-
lowing an occupation, in order to gain a livelihood, are
yet made happier and better men by studying some
profession, though it be but for amusement. The
results of a contrary course were displayed in the illi-
terate country squires of former times, who passed
their lives in fox-hunting by day, and hard drinking
by night, and despised learning, because they were
themselves utterly ignorant. At the present day,
however, when the importance of education among all
ranks is so much more universally acknowledged,
instances of this kind are rare indeed, and few men are
destined to a life of idleness. It is m consequence of
this improvement, that the professions have swelled their
numbers to a degree beyond the requirements of the
increased population, vast as has been the growth of
the latter, and are at present greatly overstocked. The
inevitable consequence of a ‘‘ crowded state of the mar-
kets” is the ‘‘ depreciation of prices ;” and that which is
true in mercantile aflairs applies with equal force to the
professions. ‘They are unquestionably much less lucra-
tive than formerly, and the chances of success in each
are diminished in proportion to the increase of compe-
tition; for though the great prizes in each are neither
fewer nor less rich than before, the number of claimants
and their conflicting interests necessarily leave many
hungry and unsatisfied mouths after every distribution.
And even in those professions in which promotion
depends on individual merit rather than interest, a
102 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
greater number of competitors must be beaten before
the race is won; and many even of those who combine
talent with application must find the labour of a life-
time fruitless, and their efforts to attain the summit of
distinction ill-requited.
We may fairly assert that these considerations should
have their due weight, without laying ourselves open
to the charge of advocating too worldly and calculating
a policy. For though some may be in a condition to
make a livelihood no object, and consult their tastes
and inclinations alone, by far the greater part adopt a
profession as the means, often the only means, of getting
their subsistence. But our present object is rather to
point out to our school-fellows the bodily and mental
qualifications which may guide them in making their
choice, so as to take advantage of what requirements
they may possess, and to avoid embarking in a profes-
sion which they are ill qualified to adorn. We shall
therefore proceed first to make a few observations on
the army and navy, and afterwards on the learned
professions. ‘The navy, indeed, from the early age at
which it is entered, and the technical nature of the
instruction which it embraces, is not often the destina-
tion of those who are educated at a public school; and
it is therefore unnecessary for us to dwell long on that
part of our subject. It may, however, be remarked,
en passant, that the naval service, unlike most others,
requires not merely passive acquiescence in the wishes
of friends, but a congenial temperament, and great
power of endurance, in order to render it tolerable. It
is, therefore, not to be recommended as a profession to.
ON THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 103
any one who has not a decided bias, amounting almost
to an enthusiasm for the sea.
On the other hand, many who have left the public
schools adopt for a time the army, which in its present
condition, after upwards of thirty years’ peace, with a
probability of its further continuance, has, we fear,
begun to be looked upon too much as a mere amuse-
ment—a genteel finish for young men of fortune. But
independently of its efficiency being greatly diminished
by its being thus considered as a temporary recreation,
rather than as a profession, to which the energies of a
life ought to be devoted, military society, as at present
constituted, is one of the worst schools of morality in
which the minds of young men can receive their final
training; one which is calculated to render them vota-
ries of pleasure, and to lead them into habits of dissi-
pation and extravagance. ‘The entertainments of the
mess-room, and rivalry in splendour of appointments,
open a wide field for ostentation and expense; and
many a young coxcomb who has entered the Guards
with more money than brains, has found even a con-
siderable fortune insufficient to meet the demands of
luxury, and has reduced his purse to a level with his
understanding. The wholesome restraint provided by
university regulations is shaken off too early by those
who enter the army as soon as they have left school,
who are thus abandoned to their own devices before
their principles are sufficiently confirmed to bear
entire exemption from the controul of their superiors.
The army ought to be considered much more in the
light of a profession—a solemn and important protes-
104 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IIt.
sion-——by those who engage in it: it should no longer
be looked upon as a theatre for display, a gaudy
pageant with which young minds are dazzled, but each
one should remember that so long as he is connected
with it, be the period long or short, he is in the service
of his country, and should behave accordingly.
Viewed as a profession merely, the priesthood is enti-
tled to take precedence of every other; and as it 1g
probably the destination of a large portion of our
readers, we deem it worthy of something more than a
mere passing notice. The duty of a Christian minis-
ter, when conscientiously discharged, is indeed an
arduous labour, and as such demands the cordial sym-
pathy of all who profit by the instruction of the church.
But those who undertake this responsibility ought to
be well qualified both in body and mind for the labo-
rious nature of the duties they bind themselves to per-
form: a good constitution, and a clear intonation
(which will often supply the want of a powerful voice)
are alike indispensable to the man who would minister
fully to the spiritual necessities of a populous parish,
and cause himself to be heard throughout a large
church. With regard to the education requisite for
the priestly office, that 1s a pot which is for the most
part sufficiently enforced now-a-days, being one on
which the Bishops generally satisfy themselves, before .
consenting to ordain a candidate ; and the unlettered
and often boorish race of the last century have now
become alinost entirely extinct—an additional proof, if
one were wanting, of the improved spirit of the times.
It would be well, however, if all who intend hereafter
ON THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 105
to take holy orders would consider attentively, some
time before their choice is finally determined, the solemn
questions which will be proposed to them in the
ordination service: and if they cannot answer them
to the satisfaction of their conscience, they will still
have time before them to turn their views towards
some other profession, which may be more suitable to
their frame of mind.
Our limited space will preclude us from making
more than a cursory observation or two on the subject
of the law and medicine : besides which, we would not
be understood as presuming to lay down rules for the
choice of every profession, but only as endeavouring
to point out, as far as we may venture to pronounce
an opinion, the general principles which ought to in-
fluence those who are about to decide the important
question, which is to regulate their future destinies,
and impart a colouring to their whole life. We will
only remark of the law, that it isa profession in which
effrontery and assurance, often a very questionable re-
commendation, may be turned to good account; in
which what is commonly called “a sharp fellow” will
be most likely to succeed; and that in most branches
of it, eloquence is an invaluable auxiliary, and a good
delivery at the least a sene gud non. But in this, as
well as in the medical profession, no one can trust to
patronage to enable him to arrive at distinction, which
is only to be attained by a course of industrious exer-
tion.
The ill consequences accruing to those who adopt a
profession uncongenial to their disposition, and the
106 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IIl.
notions with which they have been brought up, will,
we trust, be a sufficient apology for these remarks.
It is indeed a painful sight to see a young man with
extravagant ideas of his own personal importance
enter Holy Orders, and by his arrogant and overbear-
ing conduct towards those about him dishonour the
humility proper to his sacred calling; or one decked
out in all the frippery of fashion, uniting in himself
the utterly discordant characters of priest and cox-
comb: yet such men are to be found. In other pro-
fessions, the consequences of an unsuitable choice,
though less offensive in appearance than the last-men-
tioned instance, are yet more disastrous to the person
concerned ; since in this case all chance of distinction
is thereby cut off. We hope we shall not offend the
prejudices of our readers by the preference we have
given to the learned professions, especially the clerical
over the military: and if the youthful mind of but
one of our school-fellows shall have been led by the
perusal of these observations to bestow more serious re-
flection on the important step in life which he is about
to take, than he would otherwise have done, their aim
and object will have been more than sufiiciently at-
tained.
WE:
107
SURREY’S IMPRISONMENT AT WINDSOR.
It was in the soft, dim hour,
When the night and evening meet ;
When melting thoughts o’er the mind have pow’r,
And sorrow herself is sweet.
The banner was taken down
From Windsor’s royal crest,
And the bugle-horn from the distant town
Was calling the men to rest.
The sun tipped the elm with light,
And the tapery poplar’s head ;
And the river’s broad bosom was gleaming bright
In a flood of fiery red.
The dog in the court below
Was wearily shaking his chain ;
And the murmur of waters came dim and low,
As they shot thro’ the weir amain.
“Such,” I said, ‘‘ youth’s lingering close,
As it waneth, a fair day-dream,
As away joy is fading, (while on life flows,)
Like the sun from the gilded stream.
«‘ As that dog for the morn doth pine,
So I mourn for my liberty—
On the dog the wished-for day will shine,
But Oh! when shall J be free?”’
Then Hesperus broke thro’ the sky,
And led forth the starry dance ;
Till the moon unveiled in majesty
Her glorious countenance.
108 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
Oh! softly the tower-top,
And softly the chapel wall,
As a fleeting air-castle of youth’s high hope,
Were clothed in the silver pall.
Then I thought of the dreams, now gone,
I had known in happier days,
And such fabric, as love, false love alone
Could have taught me how to raise.
And the sound of the midnight came
From the silver-toned bell,
And swelled o’er the bosom of ancient Thame,
But it sounded to me as a knell.
But my weakness passed away,
And I thought of higher things,
And my soul seem’d thro’ heavenly paths to stray,
Borne aloft by angels’ wings.
And there rang a voice in mine ear,
“God hath taken ; ’tis God that gave :
Thou shalt soon know that freedom to thee so dear,
Tho’ it be but beyond the grave.”
Oss O Len Us Dire
f
ee Nunquam se minus solum esse, dixit, quam cum solus esset.”’
Cic. Ex Pram. Lis. III. Des Orr.
I soucut thee by the woodland groves
At morning’s lovely hour ;
No footsteps stirred around me,
No stranger passed my bower ;
CAUSES OF THE FALL OF ATHENS. 109
I sought thee by the streamlet’s flow,
The sun shone bright and clear,
But something whispered by my side
«Thou art not lonely here.’
At evening’s hour, I sought thee, too,
By mournful cares o’er-cast ;
When pondering on the happy scenes
Of youthful days long-past :
I called to mind dear friends, since dead,
And those, who still are near ;
But every thing around me said
‘< No solitude is here.”
Thus oft in midnight’s silent gloom,
When all in sleep were laid,
And the moonlight’s soft and gentle beams
About my chamber played ;
While bending on my knees, to God
My soul is raised in prayer,
I’ve fancied that I was alone,
But knew that God was there.
Pek.
IDEAS UPON THE CAUSES OF THE
FALL OF ATHENS.
(Continued from p. 36.)
THE proximate cause of the ruin of the Athenian
supremacy is undoubtedly to be traced to the dis-
_astrous issue of the Sicilian expedition ; the primary
cause, as we have already remarked, lies in the undue
~110 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
influences possessed by demagogues over the popular
mind. The conduct of the people of Athens during
this, the period of their greatness, affords, perhaps, the
most remarkable instance of national infatuation on
record; the South Sea Bubble of 1720, in England,
is probably the nearest parallel. ‘That a nation, the
most enlightened and cultivated of their time, should
have listened patiently to the evil counsels of a suc-
cession of worthless demagogues, whom they despised
all the while for their vulgarity and low birth, and
hated for their selfish cupidity,—that they should have
followed those counsels, well knowing their tendency,
in opposition to their better judgment, — that they
should have reposed implicit confidence in men, whose
innate vileness they were acquainted with,—is a phe-
nomenon almost inexplicable in itself, the unravelling
of which forms a deeply interesting psychological
study. The Athenians knew that Cleon and the
others who succeeded Pericles in the affections of the
multitude were cowards, yet they entrusted them with
the command of armies: they knew that they were
selfish and unprincipled, yet they placed the public
funds at their disposal. ‘They knew the meanness of
their extraction, and that every thought of their hearts,
every word of their mouth, was as low and grovelling
as their origin: yet they preferred listening to them,
rather than to those, who, like the Alemeonide, traced
their descent from the heroic age. More than this,
even when they had had experience of one demagogue,
and had already suffered grievously through his mis-
CAUSES OF THE FALL OF ATHENS. 1]
conduct, so infatuated were they, that they made no
effort to cast off the degrading yoke, but gave them-
selves up to the dominion of other men of the same
stamp, whose caprices they followed with equal sub-
servience.
It was the advice of such men as these which
induced them, intoxicated with success, to consent to
the extermination of the Melians,—a barbarity which
nothing can justify, not even the miserable plea of
expediency, and which reflects lasting disgrace on the
Athenian name. They were led by this democratic
influence to put to death in cold blood those of the ten
generals at Arginusee who had returned home, upon
the frivolous pretext, that they had neglected to bury
those who had been killed in the action; an act of
almost suicidal insanity ; since these were the only men
capable of retrieving the disasters which they had
already sustained. But their worthless leaders had so
wrought upon their feelings, as to inspire them with a
jealousy of their best citizens; and they had not sense
enough to see, that the power of these demagogues
was established on the ruin of the aristocracy. Noble
and estimable as the Athenians were in many respects,
(and we confess we have a great personal predilection
for them), these are blots upon their character, com-
pared with which their other follies and errors, however
great in themselves, are venial. It remains, then, to
be seen what causes could have combined to lead a
people, naturally sagacious and quick-sighted, into so
blind a deference to the opinions of so unworthy a set
112 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
of men as those who were their chief instigators to
the commission of these crimes, and who ultimately
brought about the ruin of the state.
The Athenians, like other nations, were wont to
adorn their public places with the statues of those
whom they esteemed as their benefactors. At the head
of these might be expected to stand Theseus, the fabled
author of their constitution,—Codrus, the patriot king,
whom they had honoured, by declaring that no one
was worthy to succeed him,—Solon, the framer of
their admirable code of laws. Instead of these great
names, however, we find that the highest honours
were paid to Harmodius and Aristogiton, the mur-
derers of the tyrant Hipparchus. The well-known
drinking-song of the Athenians ranks them with
Achilles and the heroes of the Trojan war. The infer-
ence to be drawn from this is, that they deemed the
expulsion of the Pisistratids the greatest national benefit
ever conferred on them; and their subsequent dread
of relapsing into a similar form of government proves
that this was the case. It is in the nature of a demo-
cracy to view its leaders with suspicion ; and in this
instance the suspiciousness of the Athenian people was
ageravated by the recollection, that a bold citizen had
once made himself their absolute master, and the pos-
sibility that a similar ambitious spirit might one day
repeat the attempt. This idea seemed to haunt them
on every occasion, and to pervade all their counsels:
the name of the Pisistratids was a bugbear, which
seemed to frighten them out of their wits. It was this
feeling which gave rise to the odious Ostracism; a
CAUSES OF THE FALL OF ATHENS. 113
species of self-mutilation, which was, in fact, doing for
themselves what Tarquinius is said to have done to
the inhabitants of Gabii. Rather than suffer such
men as Aristides and Cimon, who had a firm hold on
the affections of the people, and might therefore be
suspected of exercising more influence than wes be-
coming in private citizens, to exist in the state, they
deprived themselves of their valuable services, by
driving them into exile. Some of these men, the
victims of their own popularity, turned their arms
against their ungrateful country, and took part with
her enemies. We may instance Alcibiades, who, though
not ostracised, was made the object of a frivolous
charge, the real motive for which was, the fear enter-
tained of his aiming at the sovereign power. After
the disaster in Sicily, his countrymen became sensible
of their error, and recalled him to the defence of the
capital ; but no sooner had their prospects again bright-
ened, than he was compelled to fly a second time from
the effects of their jealousy. From Cleon and his
successors, on the contrary, they had nothing to fear
on that score; their want of ability, no less than the
contempt in which they were held, rendered these men
incapable of harbouring any designs against the state.
They acted, therefore, according to their advice, be-
cause they knew that these demagogues were equally
violent with themselves in expressing their opinion of
the hated Pisistratids, and would take the lead in any
movement against the aristocracy. Though these
men were not only needy, but unscrupulous as to the
means of satisfying themselves, the Athenians could
K
114 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
put up with their embezzlement of the public money,
so long as they did not attempt to rob them of their
liberty. No matter how base and worthless the indi-
vidual ; his being such was a stronger guarantee that
he would not conspire to raise himself to the tyranny.
It thus appears how irretrievably the government of
the Pisistratids had injured the Athenian character, in
causing them to be for ever after haunted by imagi-
nary Pisistratids, of their own creation, whereby they
were kept ina continual state of fear and anxiety.
From that time forward they dreaded nothing so much
as that others should subvert the established form of
government, and tread in the steps of those, their
former abominated masters. And when we consider
that the rule of this much-abused family was by no
means tyrannical, in the modern sense of the term, it
seems difficult to account for the way in which the
Athenians suffered themselves to be continually har-
assed by this prevailing idea. Be that as it may, how-
ever, they bitterly felt afterwards that their suspicions
had been exercised in the wrong direction; for they
found themselves at length reduced to that very state
which they had endeavoured by every possible means
to avoid; and all their efforts to preserve democracy,
and to exclude tyranny, ended in their subjugation to
Thirty Tyrants mstead of One.
W. E.
[We think it right to mention that this article is by a differeut
hand, in consequence of the author of Part I. having left the school.
—Ep.|
115
EDITORS SCRAP-BOOK.
Our space being unfortunately limited, we cannot
admit many translations: in the first place they take
up the room, which had better be given to original
pieces ; and secondly, the translators (pace gay) rattle
them off, thinking them much easier than the latter.
However, in case of a good translation, from some un-
common author, provided also it be not too long, we feel
bound to give it a place in our pages. Now, of all
authors Horace is confessedly the most untranslateable ;
and therefore since to a certain degree all his former
translators have failed, I hereby warn my young corre-
spondents off that ground, intending of course no
offence to them or their pieces; but rather obliged to
them for their zeal, though I deem it misplaced.
Having said thus much, I mean to insert one or two
translated passages from this author, which, consider-
ing the difficulty of the task, seem particularly good.
The author of the first batch 1s one gay, and the extracts
are from Od. II. xiv. and Od. III. v.
We all must see the hateful stream
Unlightened by the solar beam ;
And that ungrateful soil,
Where Belus’ bloody daughters groan,
And Sisyphus propels his stone
With never ending toil.
Od. II. xiv. 17-21.
116 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
I’ve seen the Roman basely yield,
Without a blow, his sword and shield,
And kneel a willing slave.
The gates of Carthage open stand,
And, where we once laid waste the land,
The golden corn doth wave.
oe 2 * x
Will he be brave who feared to die,
And sold his life for liberty,
His country and his home?
Will he, whose arms have felt the chain,
Defend his standards, and again
Fight in the ranks of Rome?
* * 6 *
O’erwhelmed with shame he hid his face,
As if not worthy to embrace
His wife and children dear ;
Then fixed his eyes upon the ground,
Lest haply, should he glance around,
Those loved ones might appear.
* 2 2 *
Full well he knew what dreadful fate
His bold defiance must await
At Carthaginian hands ;
Yet firmly thro’ the sorrowing crowd
He passed, with mien composed and proud,
To die on foreign sands.
As if, his legal busimess o’er,
He sought a more congenial shore,
Repose and peace to find ;
From Rome desiring to retreat,
And hoping in a country seat
To rest his weary mind.
Od. [iii
EDITOR'S SCRAP BOOK. 117
Il am much indebted to gay for his two contributions,
and hope he will appreciate my zeal in wading through
one of the longest odes of Horace. Finally, I wish he
had turned his poetical genius to better account, in
original pieces.
One more translation of Horace we must men-
tion—that of Od. I. xxiv.—a neatly executed version,
and bears the mark of scholarship. I hope that I shall
see more from the same hand, in a different line.
Does then an endless sleep oppress his eyes ;
Whom Modesty and Equity’s ally,
Unsullied Honour, Truth that scorns disguise,
Regret their last, their noblest votary ¢
That death-cry bore distress to many a door :
On thee, O Virgil, fell the heaviest blow ;
Thy vows unanswered, piety no more
Can bring Quinctilius from the shades below.
Juty 10.—‘‘ Lines” from Q. I regret being com-
pelled to insert only a couple of his best stanzas.
The wintry sound of falling leaves,
The moaning gusts of wind,
Are consonant with frequent deaths
And wailings of the mind.
But now the zephyrs seem to breathe
Pleasure without alloy ;
The sportive birds, the flaunting leaf,
To promise lasting joy.
ee
118 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
Sepr. 10.—By Jove, here’s a budget! An epic in
two cantos, with promise of more! What think you,
my Public? I had some thoughts of dosing you with
one canto at least—some 150 stanzas or so—in revenge
for the trouble of reading the terrible long MSS. The
poem is discursive enough, if it has uo other merit ; the
author has wandered from the praises of “ Tea,” which
was the original subject, to spinsters’ tea-parties; then,
after discussing evening parties in general, off he goes
with a hop, skip, and a jump, to theatres and novels,
ala Don Juan. He seems to be one of those London
nobs, who make it a point to go to the play every
night, and know Macready; and after each holidays
in the season, pour into the ears of their listless,
country schoolfellows, tales of Jenny Lind, Grisi, &c.
&e. I can only give a couple of stanzas:
CXXVI.
I’m fond of plays—I could write many a stanza
Full of high treason against Eton’s laws ;
Praising a farce or an extravaganza
Above the criticisms of Brunck and Dawes.
If it be true, as Shakspeare says, a man’s a
Mere player, why am I to blame because
I find in Drury Lane (except the galleries)
More pleasure than in reading Bentley’s Phalaris?
CXXVII.
I own I like a novel too; I mean
One that unites the ‘ dulce’ with ‘‘ probabile,”’
Not such romances as are often seen,
Almost as wild and marvellous as Rabelais,
But such as Dickens is, and Scott has been.
I think they use Sir Walter rather shabbily ;
For tho’ they justly give him the first place,
They read him little—much to their disgrace.
EDITOR’S SCRAP BOOK. 119
Sept. 18.—A morceau from 3. I hope my readers
will not judge too harshly of the somewhat discordant
rhyme of “resemblances” and “eyes ;” at all events,
if in one part it has not got rhyme, it has everywhere
else—aye, and reason too.
What is Love?
A jealous flame,
Piercing through every mortal frame ;
*Tis no fierce heat, no feverish start,
To come—be felt—and so depart ;
*Tis a pure and vestal light,
It burns by day and burns by night,
Each hour yet more serenely bright ;
Soul-subduing, yet alluring,
Tender, chaste, till death endurmg,—
A chain unsnapt—a purling stream—
The sun’s and moon’s joint radiant beam,
One borrowing radiance from the other,
Bright Phcebé from her brighter brother ;
These are soft love’s resemblances ;
These brought before our longing eyes
Pourtray those blissful scenes above,
Where all is joy, and God is Love.
Sept. 20.—The best comes last ; and P’ll wager that
1 and my readers shall not quarrel over the following
piece.
O were Ia cross on thy snowy breast,
Or were I a gem in thy raven hair ;
O were I the soft-blowing wind of the west,
To play round thy bosom with cooling air.
O were I a bracelet upon thy arm,
Or a ring on thy taper hand to shine,
How blythe would I view each rising charm,
And grow bright in thy brightness, Caroline.
120 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. III.
In vain! I may never see thee more,
Save thro’ the dark glass of memory ;
Yet my vows for thy welfare I still must pour,
And unburden my foolish heart to thee.
Fair offspring to stay thee when thou art old,
And a happy lot in life be thine ;
And a grave with thy sires in the churchyard mould,
And a home in the heavens, Caroline.
Finally, as no collection of pieces is complete without
a sonnet, we here present the connoisseurs in that line
with the following efiusion, by a foreign correspondent.
And must I keep my promise’? Must I write
A sonnet? But there never was a man
So dull at rhymes since first the world began.
I never could—But stop! How? Am I right?
Why there’s no need to be m such a fright ;
One quatrain’s fairly done—’twill rhyme and scan—
The second though—Dear me! I never can
Do that. But—Yes! Ihave! Ive done it—quite.
Eight lines as yet—and six more still to do,
Two triplets. Are they hard? I fear they are—
But, lo! the first is done—I think ; just so.
But there are two—indeed I scarcely dare
To think of that. Would it were finished too !
And then—Stop!—yes! No! Yes! Ive done it—
There!
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE.
No. IV.
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ASCHYLUS.
PWTOC AmYYOMEVOY HoEVOTEKTOVOS aVOpdE
pnpa’’ immoBayova.—ARIST. RANA.
Or all the mythological fables of early Greece, which
have been preserved to us either by the notices of them
contained in the Homeric poems, or by the vehicle of
tradition during the darker ages of history, and the
subsequent mecorporation of them in the genealogical
works of such men as Apollodorus, few have attained
such universal celebrity as the legend of the house of
Pelops. ‘The cause of this celebrity it is not difficult
to discover,—its connection with the Trojan war en-
sured it a notice in the writings of Homer, which to a
certain degree must have immortalized it, and rendered
it matter for popular belief. In the hands of AXschylus
it assumed a new aspect; in the fable of the house of
Atréus, he saw an exemplification of the dogma which
always seems to have been uppermost in his mind—the
power of Destiny ; and accordingly, in the transmission
of the story from the legendary to the dramatic form,
we find this idea forming a prominent feature in the
groundwork of the Oresteia.
These three plays are not only interesting to us
L
122 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV.
through the merits of the poetry or design alone, great
as these are; but through their exhibiting the only
complete specimen of a trilogy, which has descended to
our times. And it is impossible fairly to estimate the
power of Aischylus as a dramatist or poet, unless the
whole scope and bearing of these three pieces be dis-
tinctly conceived and understood. Each play may be
read separately, no matter which first, and each will
leave a high impression of the power of its author on
the mind of any one who is prepared to recall the days
of Marathon, and to invest himself with Athenian sen-
timents and prejudices: but it is not till the Oresteia is
read and considered as a whole, that the consummate
power of the author is shewn; and the plays no longer
seem like individual creations, but merge in the har-
mony of one grand whole. Yet it is also necessary, in
addition to this, that each piece be considered sepa-
rately in reference to the elucidation of the grand
fundamental idea; and we intend, however humbly,
in the following pages, to lay before our readers a
slight outline of the three dramas, chiefly with refe-
rence to this point. |
The family of Tantalus was remarkable for the suc-
cession of crimes and retributions carried on by its
members, for successive generations. At the period at
which the Agamemnon opens, Agamemnon, the great-
erandson of Tantalus, is absent at the siege of Troy,
which is now verging to the close of its predicted
duration; Hector and Achilles are dead; the Grecian
army have retired to Tenedos, and are awaiting the
result of Minerva’s artifice; while Clytemnestra, at
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ASCEHYLUS. 123
Argos, is anxiously expecting the beacon lights which
are to give her timely notice of the capture of the
doomed city. The curtain drops, and the guard whose
office it is to look out for the TnAérouTov paog of ‘Troy,
prays the Gods to release him from his long nightly
service, by sending the wished-for fire. It suddenly
appears ; he departs to communicate the joyful intelli-
gence to his mistress; and a chorus of old men enter
and sing the expedition of the two Atride to Troy, and
thence pass into a magnificent description of the sacri-
fice of Iphigenia. In this chorus we obtain the first
intimation of the arn hanging over the house of Aga-
memnon ; the sacrifice of Iphigenia was yet unexpiated,
which again was in itself only a partial fulfilment of
the curse entailed on the whole race by the impiety of
Atreus to Thyestes. The chorus are now acquainted
with the propitious end of the war, by Clyteemnestra ;
and after another superb chorus,* a herald enters, and
* Though we are not here concerned with Aischylus’ character as
a poet, yet we may be allowed a few words on a passage in this
chorus, of singular beauty, which labours under a great corruption of
text, —we mean the verses 403, 4:—
Ilapeore oryac arysocg adoidopoc
dOLoTOC AdEepevay tOEty.
This was the old reading, where ovyde is unintelligible: Hermann
ealls it Doric for cvyfece, but produces no analogous instance of such
acontraction. Scholefield’s reading is far preferable :—
TAPECTL Oly GTLLoc AAX’ adotdop0g
amuoToc apEepevay oEty.
Where, however, dizcaroc idety seems awkward. His emendation of
giy dtyuoc may be supported by Choeph. 90 :—
} oly’ aTipwe, WoreEp OY, &c.
A certain fair critic, in the new edition of 8. T. Coleridge’s Biogra-
Hi?
124 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV.
announces the arrival of Agamemnon. The chorus
continue their former strain on the Trojan war, when
Agamemnon enters, and is welcomed with a show of
affection by his wife, who at last persuades him, though
unwillingly, to enter his palace on purple carpets. A
Nemesis attended on this act; and here again the
action of destiny reveals itself, forcing the victorious
hero on to destruction ; and the obsequious mildness of
Clyteemnestra, like the calm before the tempest, toge-
ther with the doubtful termination of her speech—
(v. 947. ed. Blomf.)—
wéAot O€ ToL Gol TwvTEO av pédAAnE TEAELY
are all auguries of evils, though the definite shape in
which the impending calamity will exhibit itself, is as
yet uncertain.
Hitherto this internal machinery of /Adschylus’s
drama has been but hinted at; and obscure intimations
have been thrown out by the chorus, and Clytem-
phia, Vol. ii. p. 436, comes forward as a champion of the old reading,
for the following reasons: that aN aXoidopoc sounds like prose in the
heart of a chorus—‘“ De gustibus,” &c. ; and secondly, that agepévay
3
means “let go,” and not ‘‘gone away.” Where so many eminent
critics have tried their skill, with little success, it may seem pre-
sumptuous in us to make an attempt; yet as we believe that
AAschylus will suffer no great injury from it, in all due deference to
ereat names, we would propose the following emendation of the
second line ; retaining the first, according to Scholefield :—
amioroc apepévay iowy.
Incredulous, seeing that she has forsaken him. J. Franz reads the
passage thus :—
, A ? , > a
TAPECTL GLyac aTipouc aroLOOpOVE
AloVNwe apEpevwy Ely ;
the merit of which we confess ourselves unable to appreciate.
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ASCHYLUS. 125
nestra : we are now to sce it develope itself in a clearer
light, by means of the predictions of the ill-omened
Cassandra. Though a slave and a captive, yet she was
once a princess, and Apollo himself has been swayed by
her charms ; and the recollection of this sustains her in
dignified silence during the insults of Clyteemnestra.,
No sooner, however, has the queen departed to the
sacrifice, than the prophetic spirit manifests itself in
broken exclamations of terror at something prospective,
visible only to her own mind; parts which bear the
same relation to the clear and terrible denunciation of
misery and retribution which immediately succeeds
them, that the intimations we have already spoken of
in the prior portion of the drama bear to the various
scenes after the introduction of Cassandra. The former
parts of either are, as it were, the outlines of a picture
indistinctly shadowed out at first, and afterwards filled
up by the catastrophe itself. ‘The prophecy of Cas-
sandra is complete per se; the three speeches* she
utters almost consecutively, are the filling up and em-
bodiment of the picture, of which the incoherent ejacu-
lations and ravings{t she previously makes use of are
the outlines; and in like manner as regards the entire
drama, the design is sketched out, as it were, in the
portion of the play which extends from the opening to
Agamemnon’s exit.{ When Cassandra appears, the
different parts begin to appear in stronger relief, till at
last the death of Agamemnon consummates all in the
most powerful manner. This is preceded, as in the
Choephore, by a short song of equivocal import, when
= Verse P40 13010 hep wOB9 = 1148) 7947, |8 GeEB TD.
126 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
suddenly Agamemnon’s death-cry is heard from the
interior of the house ; and, shortly afterwards, Clytem-
nestra appears with bloody hands, and exults in the
terrible repayment of the sacrifice of Iphigenia. In the
alternation of speech and song which she maintains
_ with the chorus from this entrance to that of A‘gisthus,
the scheme of the whole play is more clearly revealed :
the operations of destiny, in all the successive members
of the house of Tantalus, are declared: Clyteemnestra
justifies herself from the murder, on the plea of reta-
liation, when /Kgisthus enters, and recites the awful
tragedy of the “ ccena Thyestz ;” and thus, after a few
words of recrimination and mutual defiance between
him and the chorus, ‘the drama ends.
It is impossible to view this noble work in the light
in which we have placed it, and yet not be struck with
the alteration that seems to have taken place in the
religious feelings of the Greeks since the Homeric
times. We allude to the belief of an universally con-
trolling power of Fate, from which not even the Gods
themselves were exempt, and which is nowhere appa-
rent in either the Iliad or Odyssey. That such pas-
sages as poipa Kparain, TeTowpévov aioy, and others, form
no valid exception to this rule, may be seen from Mr.
Henry Coleridge’s Introduction to Homer, pp. 184,
185. This, however, does not immediately concern us
now, nor the question at what period of their inter-
vening history this fatalistic belief took its rise ; its full
extent is exhibited in the Oresteia. With AXschylus
the popular divinities, hike upstart creations of a later
creed, are mere Ji ex machinis, obedient to the all-
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ASCHYLUS. 127
powertul will of Destiny, which he ever contrives to
keep in view, and make us sensible of. Without a
thorough participation in this idea, half the merit of
the Oresteia will be passed over unperceived ; by this,
what was before only a dramatic arrangement of a
story, a legend set to conversation, if we may be
allowed the phrases, becomes infused with a new life
and a new interest; and it is through the lack of this
informing spirit, that not one of the extant produc-
tions of Sophocles and Euripides can be said to compete
with this grand conception of the Father of Tragedy.
In a following number, we intend to offer our
readers a short analysis of the Choephore and Kume-
nides, with reference to the same subject.
D. 5S.
[This poem, as well as Hor. 1. Sat. ix., and Translation from Gray,
are by foreign correspondents. |
AP NRE
I sat upon a bleak and barren height,
Where Lebanon’s aspiring crest,
In proud derision at the narrow sight
Of man, forbids the eye to rest
Undazzled by the awful grandeur there
Of Nature in her wildest guise,
Where mountains hang between the wave and air,
Their summits bosomed in the skies.
128
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV.
Below me, gladdened by the rosy smile
Of morn, a lovely valley lay,
Where palm trees wav'd their dusky plumes awhile,
As floating breezes swept away
The dewy pearls, that from Aurora’s feet
Had fallen as she tript along,
And wakened Bulbuls issued forth to greet
The goddess with their earliest song.
A sea of orient azure lay beyond,
That bade its bubbling billows play
Complacent to the soft caprice of sound :
But when the sun with scorching ray
And fiery love the yielding wave caressed,
And deeper charms began to fill
The fairy scene, it trembled into rest,
And slept in silence sweet and still.
I heard the whispers of the wave and air
Thus vibrating in unison,
But did not ask whose awful voice was there ;
I heard—but meaning sought for none—
Who bade the palm-tree’s rustling foliage move,
Who in the breeze was moaning low,
I know not, and I ask not; for I love
The sound, nor further wish to know.
And from that wide expanse of watery blue
(As if some Nereid from below
Exposed her wanton charms to mortal view,
Her neck of pearl, and breast of snow),
An animated city fresh and fair,
Seemed bursting into busy life,
And anxious crowds were congregated there
I deemed, with peace and plenty rife.
TYRE. 129
But as I hastened onwards from the hill,
And thought the city to have gained,
The lovely shadow kept receding still,
And nothing palpable remained
Save some few straggling columns cold and bare—
A youthful Arab and his sire—
Their flocks beyond—a palm-tree here and there—
All desolate—and this was Tyre—
And this was Tyre—the city of the brave
And free, the shrine of wealth and power,
The sovereign mistress of the land and wave ;
Who bade the very mountains lower
Their heads in homage to her rising pride,
And deck her haught aspirmg brow—
Huge bed of busy life, whose troubled tide
Had ceased for aye to ebb and flow.
And this the plain of Tyre—whose every sod
Was fraught with tales of glory past :
The dust of empires under foot I trod—
The wreck of ages—like the last
Expiring struggle when the spirit’s fled—
The star that’s fallen from the sky—
The ripple by a bursting bubble spread—
The shadow that has flitted by.
The tottering throne has shaken off its kings ;
No longer are the sails unfurled
That bade bright Commerce, borne on eagle’s wings,
In wonder wrap the world.
No longer flows the eddying stream of life,
No longer is the torrent stemmed,
That rolled each billow, boiling with the strife
Of Man, to some ambitious end.
130
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
*Twas here Ezekiel’s warning voice was heard,
Twas hence he bade the faithful fly,
While wrath divine ran down his snowy beard,
And indignation in his eye
From heaven flashed—‘ Thow rt curst,’ he cried,
Thow'rt curst
Of God and man, presumptuous Tyre !”—
And then the wild prophetic vengeance burst
All palpitating from his lyre.
And straightway Ruin reared her giant form,
With Desolation close behind,
Dread Havoc’s roar was heard amid the storm,
And Vengeance whispered in the wind :
Up sprung the roused lion from his lair,
The missioned eagle knew no rest,
Till on the ruins of uprooted Tyre
Her Maker’s judgment stood confest.
And as I gazed upon this scene of woe,
My soul absorbed in reverie,
An eagle from the cedar-crowned brow
Of Lebanon came swooping by,
And, seeming conscious of the awful word
Which bade him wreak on man, for aye,
In spite of man, the vengeance of the Lord,
Unscared by me he winged his way.
It was not Fancy drew his raven wing,
Flapping in hideous mockery
Of man, as though ’twould say, “A desert King
Am I, and yonder is my prey—
Learn, creature vile of animated clay,
And tremble when I bid thee know
That here by right divine I hold my sway,
For God above has willed it so.”
Pp. be foe
13]
THE LEGEND OF RODENSTEIN.
[FROM THE GERMAN. |
Arter about a six hours’ journey from Darmstadt
the traveller in the Odenwald finds himself close to
the airy and rose-crowned walls of the ruined fortress
of Rodenstein. This castle is situated on a rising’
ground, surrounded on three sides by still more com-
manding eminences, and on the fourth by a vast tract
of forest. Through the valley formed by the height
on which the castle is situated the Eberbach flows,
and either bank of the ravine is studded with small
and scattered cottages, forming the village of Eber-
bach, which thus receives its name from the torrent at
its base.
The story of the wandering spectre of Rodenstein,
or the Land-Spirit of the Odenwald, is well known
hereabout. From times of yore up to the present
age, whenever war or peace takes place in Germany,
he has been heard and seen to ride forth between the
castles of Rodenstein and Schnellerts with horses and
chariots, horsemen and dogs, accompanied with terrific
sounds, as of a chase, in the air.
The castle of Rodenstein has now almost entirely
perished ; only a few parts of the walls remain, and
some dungeons, where the spirit is supposed to reside.
As to the castle of Schnellerts, whither this restless
ghost shapes his course whenever he leaves Roden-
stein, it lies between the villages of Bellestein and
Ober-Keinsbad, about two hours’ journey from Ro-
132 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV.
denstein. Of this fortress scarcely anything remains,
yet the form of the dungeons, as a learned antiquary
assures us, is still clear from the ruins. By whom
it was built, or who inhabited it at any time, we can
find no mention; no family having ever borne the
name of Schnellerts.
In the stirring times of the Middle Ages, before
Rodenstein was reduced to its present condition, there
dwelt there a Knight, noble in disposition, and hand-
some in person, who addicted himself solely to war
and the chase, and became a great object of terror to
the neighbouring cities. No fair girl had yet been
able to divert his thoughts from these two engrossing
pursuits to the charms of love. At last the Palatine
gave notice of a tournament to be held at Heidelburg,
and sent invitations to all the heroes of the Rhine,
Nechar, and Maine to these knightly pastimes. Among
these appeared Rodenstein. He was mounted on a
spirited horse, gaily decked with gold trappings;
he himself was adorned with shining weapons, helmet,
and crest, marks of a noble family that had been dis-
tinguished by along ancestry. In the tournament
itself he dismounted every one opposed to him, and
received the meed of valour from the white hand of
the fairest of the maidens assembled there. Hardly
had Rodenstein beheld her beauteous countenance
than love for the first time found a place in his warlike
soul. He communicated the state cf his affections to
her as they sat at the banquet together: and she,
enchanted both by his beauty and valour, gave him
in return her hand and—her heart.
LEGEND OF RODENSTEIN. 133
Long time they lived happily together in the ancient
castle, and Rodenstein by Marian’s side seemed to have
forgotten his fierce marauding and hunting expeditions,
when he was at once suddenly engaged in a contest with
the inhabitants of the forest behind his fortress. His
wife endeavoured to restrain him from the field by her
love ; she entreated him to remain by the love he bore
to his child, which was yet unborn, but in vain.
Rodenstein had become weary of domestic happiness,
and almost of his wife. He departed from the castle
with his dependants, regardless of her tears and en-
treaties ; and when she fell on her knees before him to
prevent his progress, he thrust her rudely back, and
departed. She was soon brought to bed of a son, and
died in child-birth. In the meantime her husband
was in the field, engaged in skirmishes with the
enemy in the neighbourhood of Schnellerts by night,
when he saw approaching him from the direction of
the forest a pale spectral form. It was that of his
wife, with her ill-fated babe in her bosom. His hair
erew stiff with fear, and a fearful shivering crept over
his whole frame, as the apparition began to sing thus
in low but intelligible tones:
Thy marriage profaning, |
Thine oath thou hast broken,
Thy wife thou hast murdered,
And our true love’s token.
Thou shalt herald the wars
With trumpet and drum,
And foretell to the kingdom
When oppression shall come.
'y
134 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
On these words she vanished. Soon after her hus-
band was overpowered and mortally wounded in a
sally of the opposite party, and was with difficulty
removed to Schnellerts, where he shortly expired.
And since his awful end,
In spectral armour dight,
With troops and horses round
He traverses the night.
And when in German land
The seeds of war are rife,
He leaves the ruined castle,
And tells the coming strife.
Pees
ON SEEING A DEAD TREE.
OLD tree! thou art withered! of late I stood here,
And the birds in thy branches did merrily sing :
Thy shadow stretched dark o’er the stream passing near,
And thou wert as green as the rest in the spring. ,
How altered since then! leafy honours, so great,
In beauteous profusion encircled thy tree ;
Now every one spurns thee, nor cares for thy fate,
But still thou hast serious reflections for me.
{ think while I view thee and rest on yon stile,
Man’s life is as frail as the leaves thou hast shed—
Like thee, he may boast of his honours awhile,
But Time will pass on and his fame will be dead.
%
THE MYRTLE. 135
Fond friends may oft come to the tomb where he’s laid,
And love and affection the past will look o’er,
By degrees they will go—all those friends will have fled,
And hid in the grave, he'll be heard of no more.
Death makes no distinction—he takes, as his right,
The young and the aged, the king and the slave: |
E’en beauty, that magic of empty delight,
Must fall at his bidding, and yield to the grave.
PTs
THE MYRTLE.
I GAZED upon the myrtle’s snow,
Its countless leaves, which ever blow.
I gazed; until I seemed to see
The blood-red sword of Liberty
Through the opposing branches gleam,
While round me, like a dream,
Athens spreads her mystic groves :
On the slow procession moves !
Hark! a shout rings through the sky!
Tis done: farewell to tyranny.
Myrtle, there are who thee declare
Nursling of the Cyprian fair ;
Wouldst thou not rather called be
Emblem divine of Liberty ?
While thus I doubted and surveyed
With firmer glance the quivering shade,
A sudden brightness, as of steel,
Strikes me: among the boughs I feel
A golden quiver lies revealed ;
Twas Love’s, neath Venus’ tree concealed.
136 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
EMIGRATION AND TRANSPORTATION.
TALES OF THE COLONIES ; OR THE ADVENTURES OF AN EMIGRANT.
By C. Rowcrort, Ese., a late Colonial Magistrate. Fifth
Edition. Smith, Elder, & Co., 1847.
EMIGRATION AND TRANSPORTATION relatively considered, in a
Letter dedicated by permission to Karl Grey. ye Mrs. CHisHOLM.
London: Ollivier, 1847.
We never intended this magazine for an organ of
criticism ; partly from distrust of our own abilities,
considering that a boy’s opinion could not carry much
weight with it ; partly because the numerous periodicals
put forth from time to time by our respected predeces-
sors never bore that character; and partly because we
did not think that such papers would prove acceptable
to our schoolfellows.
During the holidays, however, the “Tales of the
Colonies” were kindly sent us by the author, whom
we have ascertained to be an Etonian of 1810, and
whose work, from that reason, no less than from the
compliment of the gift, seems to require notice at our
hands.
The “ Tales of the Colonies” are from the pen of a
late colonial magistrate, and purport to be the history
of the settler in the penal colony of Van Diemen’s Land.
To those of our readers who have not seen it, though
it has reached a fifth edition, we will give a brief out-
line of the emigrant’s adventures, and then proceed to
the subject developed in it—emigration, and its relation
to transportation.
EMIGRATION AND TRANSPORTATION. 137
At the beginning of the year 1816, Mr. William
Thornley, a Surrey farmer, suffered great reverses in
the corn trade, from the extensive nature of public
competition, and the multitude of tithes and taxes,
pressing heavily on an already failing business. Having
accidentally heard of the many eligible opportunities
which presented themselves for emigration to Van
Diemen’s Land, he consults his wife and determines to
seek his fortune there; and finally arrives in Hobart
Town on the third of February, 1817, having to begin
life afresh on 3600 dollars (£780.), and 1200 acres of
land assigned him by the colonial government on the
banks of the Clyde, fifty miles from town. On his
way thither he meets with aservant and partner in one
Samuel Crab, a Shropshire ploughman, a character of
unprepossessing address, but a thoroughly good heart,
reminding us of Dr. Johnson, whose habitual diseust
with the wretched country, and its inhabitants, and
determination to leave it by the next ship, though all
the time his affairs and those of his master prosper more
and more every day, and himself is at bottom contented,
furnish us with much amusement. ‘The following is
a tolerable specimen of this cross-grained spirit :—
‘Crab says that every thing is wrong on this side of the globe, and
that he is sure nature first tried her hand at creation in Van Diemen’s
Land, and found that she was making mistakes, so she went right
over to the other side, and mended matters. ‘ For,’ says he, ‘look
at the trees, instead of shedding their leaves in winter, they shed
their bark ; and there it hangs in rags and tatters, till it drops off.
- Would any decent respectable tree in England behave in such a
manner? And look at what they call rivers! Why the river
Jordan (its a shame to give it such a Scripture name) isn’t so broad
M
138 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV. .
as the New River at home! as to the Clyde, I don’t know what to
make of it ; it runs up-hillin some places. And the grass! it isn’t
green, like honest, wholesome grass at home, but brown, and as
coarse as wire-grass 11a Swamp. If you want to make the grass
green in Van Diemen’s Land, you must set fire to a patch, and then
what comes up after is green for a while, but there’s little of it.
There is not a natural flower in the whole country, nor a root, nor a
plant, nor a fruit, fit for man’s eating. The cherry-tree, as they call
it, is a funny thing indeed! a sour, squashy thing, with the stone
forgotten in the middle, and so it was stuck outside, for the look’s
sake, I suppose. Then everything is contrary; you never know
which is north and south, and it’s winter in June, and summer in
January! I tell you what it is, master, it’s all a mistake; and the
best thing we can do is to go back to a country fit for Christians to
live in—to old England, where a man knows what he is about, and
can get a pint of beer if he wants it, and get his plough and his cart
dragged by horses, and not by bullocks in this outlandish fashion.”
Thornley’s affairs prosper up to 1824, when news
comes of the approach of a formidable tribe of bush-
rangers, a sort of nomad burglars, helped by natives,
which causes considerable panic on the banks of the
Clyde. One night they attack a new settler’s house,
and with the spirit of enterprise and neighbourly at-
tachment so necessary in uncivilized parts, Thornley,
with two or three friends, sets off to the rescue. After
many hair-breadth escapes from the waddies and
womeras of the natives, when they have got the enemy
ata disadvantage a letter comes to our hero announcing
that his house has been set on fire; and he agrees to
return alone, a distance of about thirty miles. His
taking a wrong turn—his wanderings in the bush—his
horrible extremity from hunger and the loss of his —
horse—his almost certain death by the natives, against
EMIGRATION AND TRANSPORTATION. 139
whom he had to defend himself single-handed, and
who were just setting fire to a tree on which he had
taken refuge, when a party of friends put them to flight
and release him, form a painfully interesting episode.
Arrived at home, he builds a stone house, and is
restored seemingly to comfort. As he is looking out
for some lost sheep, he meets with the leader of the
bushrangers, who in a most affecting manner—unusual
indeed for such ferocious characters, but perfectly con-
sistent with the events that follow—implores Thornley,
should he be hanged, to take care of his child. This
is, of course, assented to, and as they are talking,
soldiers and constables come up, and the gypsey, in
the act of grappling with their leader, falls with him
over a frightful precipice, and both are dashed to
pieces. Thornley then,in accordance with his promise
to the dead man, goes off to town after his child:
whose history, her concealment by an avaricious uncle,
and her final recovery by our hero from the natives,
are particularly well told. It seems that her father,
and through him his daughter, was heir to some large
Yorkshire estates, which now her uncle wished to
obtain by making away with her. Her father was
transported for manslaughter, but since his horrid
death the charge has been fully disproved. The child
is sent to England, and is soon married to a wealthy
and accomplished gentleman.
Fourteen years had elapsed since the pursuit of
Georgiana Shirley’s captors. Thornley has resigned
his estates to his eldest son, his daughter is married,
and he is in the enjoyment of aliterary old age. Sud-
140 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV.
denly intelligence is received that the good old Crab, who
by his own industry had acquired large property, is on
his decline. The concluding scene is worth quoting.
“The clergyman now asked him if there was any thing he wished
to say—anything he wished to have done?
“The questions of the divine roused the old man to a consciousness
of his present state, and recalled his mind from its feeble wanderings.
““* JT know,’ he said in a whisper scarcely articulate, ‘ that—we—
must—all die !—but—I—wanted to see how the wheat turned out—
in—the—new—field. George — never—plough with—oxen—and
—don’t—shoot—the bull—as you did—the—other—one. I—am
—gomg—I—am—going. Betsey, hold—my—head. What do I
feel? Betsey—I am-—stifling. I—I—I—can’t—breathe—my—
breath—Thornley—I am—going—at last—out—of—this—wretched
— country —home—at— last.’
‘“* And so he died.
“There was not adry eye in the room. For my own part, I
sobbed like a child; although my dear old friend had died full of
years and prosperity, and in peace and hope. But he was my ancient
friend, my earliest companion in the colony, and I loved him for the
very whims and failings for which others laughed at him.
“< ‘That was one of the best hearts, in one of the roughest husks,
that ever I had to deal with,’ said the surgeon. And so thought
we all; but for some time no one spoke, and I retired with a sad
heart to the banks of the Clyde.
‘We buried our old friend in the churchyard, which had been
consecrated with the church by the Bishop of Australia. Over his
grave I placed a modest tablet, with this simple inscription :—
HERE LIE THE MORTAL REMAINS
OF
SAMUEL CRAB,
AN ENGLISH FARMER,
AGED 86.
EMIGRATION AND TRANSPORTATION. 14]
We have just given a faint outline of this work.
The scenes are natural to the life, and look very much
as if Mr. Rowcroft himself were the hero. When the
Swiss family Robinson are cast on a desert island, you
naturally disbelieve it, because it is utterly improbable
that people in a desert island should find every thing
they want, and even more than they could have ob-
tained at home, and all this by mere accidents ; the
author quite forgetting, in his zeal for his hero’s suc-
cess, the situation he had been placed in. If this work
before us, on the contrary, be a fiction, which we think
it is not, it is the fiction of a man experienced in the
settler’s changes of fortune. If we hear of a farm
without tithes, and a house subject to no rates and
taxes, we have the questionably agreeable prospect of
having to build the house, and living sub dio until itis
built. If the settler’s flocks and herds increase 20
to lin ten years, there are bushrangers—worse by far
than English burglars—who would steal them away,
and set your house on fire; also veritable natives who
would not scruple to kill the bad white man, and
would eat his piccaninny with the same gusto as they
would a half roasted opossum, entrails and all !
In the journal of a settler in the penal colony of
Van Diemen’s Land, we should naturally expect some
remarks on the working of the convict system in that
country. Our author has not disappointed us; his
remarks have the stamp of experience, and are clothed
in masterly language. We have also before us a
pamphlet on the subject by a benevolent lady, who
seems to have made emigration her study. With the
142 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
help of these two, and of an article in the Edinburgh
Review, we may hazard our opinion on this all-engross-
ing topic of the day.
It seems that Van Diemen’s Land was made a penal
settlement in 1803, and colonists began to arrive from
fFngland in the same year. It was then wise and
politic, as well as encouraging to the emigrant, to dis-
perse the influx of convicts over the country as assigned
servants tothe latter. But what was said in 1824, by
a colonial magistrate, must be doubly true now, that
‘The time must arrive, when the colony shall be so firmly estab-
lished, and the number of its free mhabitants so great, as to render
it impossible for the government at home to resist the remonstrances
of the colonists against their intrusion.”—Tales of the Colonies,
p- 322.
There appear to be two sets of convicts, and two
systems—the extreme of punishment, and the extreme
of indulgence. Those whose crimes are of a deeper
dye, or whose insubordination since their arrival has
rendered them not trustworthy, are sent to Macquarie
Harbour, a place at the other end of Van Diemen’s
Land, a sort of hell upon earth, where the convicts
are so utterly wicked, that, as among the Jews before
their fall, though a man should try to invent some new
villany, he could not, there being none that is not prac-
tised among them. ‘The others are assigned servants to
settlers, who are known to be kind to their servants;
for
“* Tf a settler has been proved to treat his assigned servants ill, or
if he has not the means of employing them, or of providing for
them, the application is refused ; and no prisoner can have another
prisoner assigned to him.”’—(Rowcroft, p. 307.)
EMIGRATION AND TRANSPORTATION. 143
The good policy of the Government is shewn, too,
in their dropping the insulting term conmcts, and
calling them government men ; in their never telling an
applicant for a servant the offence for which a convict
has been transported, so that a fair start may be given
them to regain their character ; and in their rewarding
good conduct by tickets of leave, which gives them
permission to get work in the colony, or set up busi-
ness tor themselves, as it may be remembered John
Tawell did. The whole system is one more of refor-
mation and amendment than punishment; and the
goodness of the system is shewn by the few crimes
committed by assigned servants, and by their industry.
“‘ When,” says Mr. Rowcroft, “it is considered that they work in
a state of bondage, a condition the most unfavourable for mental or
bodily exertion, and that in many cases the convicts are put toa
sort of work in this country to which they were not previously
accustomed ; taking into account also that pickpockets, housebreakers,
and thieves of all descriptions, form a large part of the ploughmen,
shepherds, bullock-drivers, and others, who work on the farms, and
seeing that with such motley assistants farming is carried on thriv-
ingly, I think I may fairly say that, under the circumstances, they
make tolerable servants.”
The natural objection to this system, is,—bearing in
mind, notwithstanding, that reformation is the object
of the transportation system, not punishment,—that the
convicts fare better here than at home,—they have
large rations, are always assigned to find masters, and
finally may, by good conduct, become emancipists,—
this seems rather like holding out a premium to crime.
“Tt is, in fact, an inducement to commit a crime in order to gain
admission to a jail, as a preparatory step to he~~ ultimately trans-
144 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
ferred to one of those establishments which have been called by a
very high authority the ‘ portal to the colonies.’ Transportation, as
conducted in the present day, cannot be viewed as a punishment ;
for to give a man disposed to work (supposing he is a common
labourer) a free passage to any of the Australian colonies is equal to
placing the interest of £1150. at his disposal; any attempt, there-
fore, to deter men from the commission of crime by speaking of the
horrors of transportation under the present ‘exile’ system, is like
frightening little babies to sleep by telling them the boo-man will
take them away.”—(Mrs. Chisholm, pp. 14, 15, 16.)
There is, therefore, great fear lest people should
commit crime, on purpose to be transported to a place
where, by good conduct, they may be ultimately freed
and become rich settlers, instead of felons. This must
do harm to society, though, apparently, not to the
felons themselves ; for, on Mr. Rowcroft’s authority,
there is as much and more crime committed in the
mother country than in these penal colonies; and
Mrs. Chisholm, though regretting the excess of indul-
gence on one side, and of punishment on the other,
cannot help bearing the testimony of ample experience
“tothe sterling worth and exemplary conduct, asa
body, of the emancipists of New South Wales.”
We wish to propound no new theories, nor to hazard
an opinion on a subject which as yet remains unsettled,
though discussed many times under two adminis-
trations; but our conclusion appears to be this:
Seeing that crime is committed from over-population,
and that transported felons may become rich pro-
prietors by good conduct, why should not Govern-
ment prevent that crime by a state system of emigra-
tion, when they must eventually spend equally large
EMIGRATION AND TRANSPORTATION. 145
sums in transportation? While the pauper is still
honest, put temptation out of his way by taking a
step which must be taken when the offender is con-
victed. By this means he would work in happiness,
without the galling conviction of his degraded situa-
tion; he would be free in body and mind: and it is
calculated by Mrs. Chisholm that each emigrant might,
in due time, contribute to the revenue of Great Britain
from £7. to £10. annually.
We make no apology to our older readers for bring-
ing forward this subject, and we would fain hope that
it will not be unacceptable to our schoolfellows, from
whom it is probable that our future statesmen, our
Gladstones and our Mannerses, may one day come—
men who do as much honour to our beloved Alma
Mater, as to our age and country.
HYMN FOR THE LATE HARVEST.
VipooTLBEtC
NELMOVEC EyxwpovoLy EvKaoT OépeL.
SopH. AJAX.
Dark winter’s threats and ravening famine’s cry
To plenty yield, and summer’s smiling sky.
From Scotland’s farthest highlands,
From Erin’s sea-girt strand,
O’er Britain’s teeming islands,
We've felt our Maker’s hand.
146
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV.
We've seen stern Desolation,
And we were doomed to die ;
But humbled, for Salvation
To God we rais’d our cry.
He heard us—yes, from heaven
He saw our fallen state ;
He knew, by sorrows driven,
Our sad approaching fate.
He pitied us, and gave us,
His own Almighty aid ;
He stretched His arm to save us,
And all our troubles stayed.
His mercy shone around us,
And His beams of perfect love,
Which guilty sinners found us,
Fell on us from above ;
“* Tis Mine to spare their weakness,
To cure their woe and pain ;
°Tis Mine to heal their sickness ;
I will raise them up again.
*< Yes, the earth in plenty beaming,
With its Maker’s praise shall ring :
The fields, so thickly teeming
With corn, shall laugh and sing :
Yes—man, now low in sadness,
By heav’nly strength renew’d,
Shall, rising up in gladness,
Burst forth with gratitude.”
| CBee
147
IMITATION OF HORACE.—Sar. I. ix.
‘* Garrulus hunc quando consumet cunque, loquaces
Si sapiat, vitet.’’
ONE summer eve, towards the river side,
(Twas Friday too, day of aquatics’ pride),
I slowly strolled—it was the sculling day—
To see the match, —for who would miss it, pray ?
Few steps I’d gone, when one I only knew
By name, and scarce had ever spoken to
Accosts me, on my shoulder lays his hand,
Hopes I am well, and is at my command.
Onward we walk, he chattering all the while
Of trifles ; with a patronizing smile
Next takes my arm, inquires, on whom I bet;
Hopes C will win, for he’s the favourite,
>Gainst A or B will give me five to one :
Says if G wins he shall be quite undone.
I answer, that I betting disapprove,
He my objections wishes to remove,
When on the Brocas we arrive, and I
Not liking much this fellow’s company,
By chance a con observe, ‘‘ My friend,”’ I said,
‘* Tl luck will have it, I a promise made.”—
‘¢ Don’t let me hinder you,” says he: “for N
I much admire— you'll introduce me then.”
This was far worse, when as *twere for excuse
The gun was fired, thinks I, I now am loose.
‘‘ T fear,’’ said I, ‘‘ we needs must separate,
You'll scarcely wish to run at such a rate ;
But I am anxious for a friend to win,
Must follow close, and see how he comes in.”’ |
148
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV.
Says he, “ My wind is good. I’m not afraid
Of keeping up.” Alas! no effort made
Can free me, so I tamely follow, where
The victor leads, my fate with patience bear.
We'd got to Lower Hope, he talking still,
When I exclaimed, “I’m blown ; you, if you will,
Go on; [ll back to Windsor bridge and wait.”
“‘ Not so,” says he, ‘‘ my bets are sure as fate ;
Alone you need not go; the race is won ;
"Tis clearly C
We came to Bargeman’s, I scarce caring where
We went to, could I leave this fellow there ;
When he remembered, he’d just now in school
’s; the interest is gone.”
A pena got; (it served him right, the fool !)
"Twas to be taken at the halfthour ; stay—
"Twas in his pocket ; I so short a way
Would surely follow. “Oh!” say I, “ you know
The cheering’s yet tocome; I miss it? No.”
Says he, ‘“‘ I doubt, ’tis matter of debate ;
To leave you, or totake my pena late.”
“‘ Qh! my good fellow, leave me.” He replied
‘‘ I'd rather see the cheering by your side.”
Hope was all gone, when just in Brocas lane
We met with F , | whispering complain ;
Tell my sad fate ; propose (as if ’twould be
A pleasant thing) that in a punt we three
Should see the boats come in, so F—— and I
Settled the matter ; he, (I now know why)
Declined, but all excuses we refuse,
Engage a punt, and wait for him to choose.
Little such luck expecting, I at last
Got rid of him—For why !—He had not passed.
Says he, ‘On match-nights masters are about,
And ’tis most likely I should be found out.”’
We much regret our loss, then leave the shore :
Good fortune saved me thus from such a bore.
L.
r.
149
ROUGH DIAMONDS.
Asperitas agrestis et inconcinna, gravisque,
x t + *
Dum vult libertas dici mera veraque virtus.
‘“ Manners,” said good William of Wykeham,
“makyth man.” When, therefore, we permitted
Anti-Gallus to vent his ire against the French in our
pages, we are quite sure, that he by no means
wished to take up the cudgels in defence of those
coarse, ill-bred persons, represented by many of the
old English squires of the last century, who affected
to discard all politeness, under the preposterous idea
that, by payimg deference to the common forms of
society, they were encouraging Frenchified notions,
with which your true old John Bull, the genuine
Englishman, can have no sympathy.
Our readers will, doubtless, have anticipated us in
finding out the resemblance of this portrait to the
hero of a choice song—‘‘ The Old English Gentle-
man.” They will have pictured to themselves a portly,
apoplectic-looking personage, reclining at his ease by
the chimney-corner ; (over his head, on one side, huge
meerschaums, and on the other, piles of foxes’ brushes—
memorials of his achievements in the chase :)
‘‘Tn doublet and trunk hose,
Quaffing a cup of good old sack,
To warm his good old nose.”
The correctness of the portrait may be heightened
by making him gouty and aged, yet exhibiting the
ruling passions strong in death; for, undeterred by the
150 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
repeated warnings of gout, and the quick approach of
age, our hero is reputed to be able, ‘“‘ though so very,
very old,” to outdrink all his pot-companions, Picture
such an one to yourselves, readers, and here you have
a beau ideal of a ‘fine old English gentleman,—one
of the olden time.”’
We can trace a resemblance between such a person
and Frederic William of Prussia, father of Frederic
the Great. Not to mention that monarch’s amiable
qualities of cursing and caning gentlemen and ladies
in the public streets, and treating his children worse
than Mrs. Brownrigg did her apprentices ; we may
quote the summary of his character, in the words of
the reviewer :*—
“‘ His own mind was uncultivated ; he despised literature. He
hated infidels, papists, and metaphysicians, but did not very well
understand in what they differed from each other. The recreations
suited to a prince were, according to him, to sit in a cloud of tobacco
smoke, to sip Swedish beer between the puffs of the pipe, to play
backgammon for three-halfpence a rubber, to kill wild hogs, and to
shoot partridges by the thousand.”
But there is another class of persons, men rigidly
just and upright, who are ambitious of the title of a
chip of the old block who think it effeminate, and
beneath the dignity of scholars, to subject themselves
to the prescribed rules of genteel society. Is it not
a pity that the fair character of a Cato and a Johnson
should have been tarnished by an ill-bred coarseness
of mind, and an offensively rude temper, which
vented itself even on their best and dearest friends ?
* Edinb. Rev. No. 151, April, 1842, Art. “ Frederic the Great.”
ROUGH DIAMONDS. Loh
Relating a story of Cato’s indelicacy and unkind-
ness to his most familiar comrade Munatius Plancus,
and comparing his indirect advances to reconciliation,
which yet were stifled by haughty reserve, and a cold
air of superiority, with a similar trait in Johnson,
Dr. Arnold adds :* “ The natural dispositions of Cato
and Johnson appear to have borne a strong resemblance
to one another, and had Cato been a Christian, the
likeness would have been more perfect. His character
would have been far better than it was, had he been
taught to struggle against his pride and coarseness of
mind, instead of thinking it to his credit to divulge it.”
Not all Dr. Johnson’s prodigious learning, which
was equalled only by his deep and active piety, could
prevent him from being looked down upon in society,
and in many cases only tolerated on account of his
extraordinary genius. Who does not feel the truth
of Soame Jenyns’ epitaph for him ?
<* Here lies Sam. Johnson. Reader, have a care,
Tread softly, lest you wake the sleeping bear.
* + + *
A Christian, and a scholar, but a brute.”
How strange is it then, when these are acknowledged
faults, for people to think them worthy of imitation,
not because they are likely to be lauded, but because
men would like to err with a Catoora Johnson. Act-
ing on this principle, however, they might, according
to Martial, plead Cato’s name as an excuse for
drunkenness, and Cicero’s for writing bad verses.
Vices would then be turned into virtues, only because
* Roman Commonwealth, Vol. I. p. 367.
152 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. IV.
ereat, and otherwise good men, have been weak
enough to fall into them.
And after all, what great matter for boasting is it,
to be ill-bred and coarse? Were Cato and Johnson
the more lked for it? The fact is, the illiterate
boorishness of the last century has departed this life ;
and the sooner these rough diamonds—diamonds they
are, and precious diamonds too, though rough—are,
to keep up the metaphor, subjected to the polish of the
lapidary, the better. They will shine much brighter,
and be of ten times more value than they are when
rough and ungainly, and worth little more than a
lump of charcoal.
Are we then advocating foppishness? By no
means. We desire to enter our protest against an excess
of fashion and that effeminate taste for dress, which
seems to pervade too many of our youth ; in short,
against all who come under Moore’s definition :—
« A thing you know, whiskered, great-coated, and laced,
Like an hour-glass, exceedingly small in the waist,
Quite a new sort of creature, unknown yet to scholars,
With heads so immoveably fixed in shirt-collars,
That seats like our music-stools soon must be found them,
To twirl, when the creatures may wish to look round them.”
We would have people neither fops nor slovens ;
neither illiterate, nor vain of their literary acquire-
ments; neither indelicately coarse, nor haughtily
reserved. We would have all cultivate good-breeding,
and an attention to the little forms of society, which,
however unworthy of his notice it may seem to a
scholar, is positively necessary to prevent even a John-
son from being thought a bore and a pedant.
153
EDITOR’S SCRAP-BOOK.
I wave laid my hand on an old translation from
Kurip. Hecuba, vv. 905—951: I could wish that the
author had been less diffuse and more literal. With
this exception, the whole chorus is well turned. It
may be remembered that it has been beautifully ren-
dered into alcaics by the Bishop of Lichfield and
Coventry,—an old Etonian, who, for first-rate talents
and elegant scholarship, has few equals. The follow-
ing stanzas are worthy of the author :
“* Sons of the Greeks! your time is come ;
The towers of Ilium fall ;
Arise! the trumpet sounds this night,
That summons your recall.”
In Spartan virgin’s loose attire
I started from my bed,
And to the chaste Diana’s shrine
A wretched suppliant fled.
In vain! I saw my husband fall,
Scarce from my bosom torn ;
And from my home was captive led,
O’er the wild billows borne.
Oct. 8.—The author of the above translation has
favoured me with some English hexameters, turned
from Homer’s Odyssey, b. iii. vv. 103—114; and,
Iam bound to say, infinitely better than the former.
N
154 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
The piece which follows it is by a different hand, and
was suggested to its author by the remark of a critic —
in the Quarterly, that there were three passages of
Lucan, “‘ The Apotheosis of Pompey,” “ The Marriage
of Cato,” and ‘‘ The Sacred Grave,” which would be
very fit subjects for translation. Whether or not the
author has been presumptuous in undertaking the task,
I must leave my readers to judge. 7
HOMER’S ODYSSEY, B. im. 103—114.
Friend! thou hast raised in my heart the bitter remembrance of
SOITOWS, |
Far from their country endured by the dauntless sons of Achaia ;
Those that we suffered by sea, o’er the darkling surface of Ocean
Roving in quest of booty, where’er we were led by Achilles :
Those too suffered by land, when the mighty city of Priam
Baffled our arms in the siege—there perished the flower of our army ;
There in the battle renowned lies Ajax, there too Achilles,
There too the god-like Patroclus, a warrior greater than human ;
There too my first-born son, my beloved, the brave and the gentle,
There my Antilochus lies, who excelled in strength and in fleetness.
Much did we suffer beside; but what mortal tongue is sufficient
E’en to the end to recount that unnumbered succession of sorrows ?
THE APOTHEOSIS OF POMPEY.
Lucan, B. 1x. 1—15.
But not mid empty ashes was his soul at Pharos laid,
Nor could a little heap of dust contain so great a shade :
Spurning the hungry funeral flame, the mass of half-burnt bone,
Leaps forth his soul in upward flight to heaven’s high-vaulted throne.
For where the starry circles meet the murky air, midway
Between our earth and the white paths of chaste Diana’s ray,
155
There dwell the sainted Manes, whom unsoiled through life’s dark road
Up-directed fiery virtue to the lower Gods’ abode :
From their poor graves—in perfumes laid and gold they could not
come—
Raised to be deathless orbs that shine beneath her sacred home.
He feasted on Jove’s own pure light, the wandering stars admired,
EDITOR'S SCRAP BOOK.
The wandering and the pole-fixed stars, and with new light inspired,
Discerned the mist of darkness that enfolds our brightest day ;
And mocked the farce called Death, in which his own maimed body
lay.
Oct. 10.—Laughed over the following burlesque,
the production, as I suppose, of some member of the
Kton Society, when it removed from Harris’s and
Hatton’s to its present room. Alongside of it I have
placed the famous original, that my readers may dis-
cover how accurately the author has adapted the
sound, and even letters, generally speaking, of Lord
Byron’s more refined poem. At the same time, I
doubt whether it is consistent with the dignity of that
worthy Society, to let it be supposed that any member
was guilty of eating “ currant tarts.”
Map or ATHENS. Maip-or Harton’s.
I. l.
Maid of Athens! ere we part, Maid of Hatton’s! ere we part,
Give, oh give me back my heart ; | Warm me one more currant-tart ;
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest ;
Hear my vow before I go;
Zon pov, oac ayard.'
Or, since that is left undressed,
Give no change, but keep the rest,
Hark! a cheer before we go,
1 Romaic expression of tenderness :
if I translate it, I shall affront the gentle-
men, as it may seem that I supposed
they could not ; and if I do not, I may
affront the ladies. It means ‘‘ My life,
I love you :’’ which sounds very prettily
in all languages.—Lorp B.
(30) Képn dyapw |! !2
* Barbaro-Etonian expression of ten-
derness.
It means ‘‘ One cheer for the unmarried
lady,’’ which sounds very pretty in
Eton language.—AUTHORS.
156
2.
By those tresses unconfined
Wooed by each Aigzean wind ;
By those lids, whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheek’s blooming
tinge ;
By those wild eyes like the roe ;
Zwn pov, oac ayare.
J.
By that lip I long to taste ;
By that zone-encircled waist ;
By all the token-flowers that tell
What words can never speak so
well ;
By love’s alternate joy and woe;
Zwn pov, oac ayaro.
4,
Maid of Athens! I am gone ;
Think of me, sweet! when alone ;
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul.
Can I cease to love thee? No!
Zwn pov, sac ayare.
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
2.
By those messes undefined
Save by Athenzan mind ;
By those creams, whose tinge of
red
Wooes the white froth above it
spread ;
By those mild pies made of dough,
Bon xopn dydpe |!
3.
By that floor I often tread
Of the room above thy head ;
By the ‘*Times” and “Post”
that tell
What country papers can’t so well;
By each member, fast or slow,
Bon Képy ayapy |!
4.
Maid of Hatton’s ! I am gone!
Sink not in oblivion ;
Though from thee to Clark’s Irove,
Hatton’s is the place, by Jove!
Can I cease to sock there? No!
Bor Kopp dyape }!
Sept. 27.—Received a poem called “ Llanberris,”
which the author says is “a lake most romantically
situated at the foot of Snowdon, in North Wales.”
Its one fault is the recurrence of the same rhyme no
less than seven times! These are the opening stanzas :
Ere yet the sun a last adieu
To drowsy Nature bade ;
Ere yet the lengthenmg shadows grew
More sombre and more sad ;
EDITOR'S SCRAP BOOK. 157
Kre yet the moon her silver beam
Betrayed ; ere yet the pall
Of night came, like a passing dream,
And overshadowed all ;
Llanberris wooed the last embrace
Of his declining ray,
Llanberris raised her smiling face
To kiss the parting day.
Nor could the conscious orb on high
Her soft endearments shun ;
Nor could the parting day deny
The kiss so fairly won.
The author is sailing on the lake, when, “in keeping
with the scene,” ‘melancholy steals into his soul ;”
he thinks on absent friends, and the pleasures of his
youth, and in due time, of course, he is an Kton boy
again. The followmg stanza concludes this pretty
poem, which I very much regret I cannot insert whole.
It may be but in memory,
It cannot be with joy ;
But I will ever cling to thee,
That nursed me when a boy ;
Though closing on the scene for aye,
Oblivion’s waters flow,
Its ruffled surface will betray
The struggling thing below.
‘¢ The River from Sixth Form Bench’ is a picture
somewhat nearer home ; these are the opening lines:
Sweet is it by thy rapid stream, O Thames ;—
When summer suns, cooled by the shadowy wing
Of early morning, colour all thy banks,
And make thy rapids glisten in thew hight ;—
158 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
To gaze admiring from beneath the shade
Of elms and clustering lime-trees drooping down
Laden with flowers and fragrance ; through whose leaves
Like lattice-work, above the deep blue sky
Pierces on either side the water white
Far in the distance, while in front the stream
Flows by, now smooth, now prone in pebbly shoals.
Sweet is it, gazing here on every side
To find new beauties, or some little thing
Unseen before.
Oct. 11.—Sat down to compose more of the
“Analysis ;” but finding that I have prose enough
without it, | must trust to Part I. alone, to secure for
the author of the “‘ College Chapel,” an enviable posi-
tion among the contributors to this Magazine, though
1 regret having no room for further extracts from that
by-Lditor-often-read-and-frequently-extolled monument
of his genius, as well as from some delectable stanzas of
his on the same subject.
I have heard some complaints of the essay on
“Travels, &c. &c.” By those who are interested in
abusing the article it has been called presumptuous and
untrue! it shews a bad spirit !! however, it 1s pardon-
able, as the work of some hasty young gentleman!!!
It so happens that “ Anti-Gallus” can verify all has
assertions. If these “ Galli’ and “ Anglo-Galli” will
condescend to think anything of “ Alison’s History of
Europe,” ‘‘ Hannah More’s Moral Sketches,” “ The
Quarterly Review,” “The Oxford Prize Essays,” and
_“ Wordsworth’s Diary in France,” they will find all
these charges substantiated ; aye, and more than these
too.
EDITOR’S SCRAP BOOK. 159
Oct. 16.—Stanzas from Bp:
The evening’s grey tinge o’er the mountains is spread,
And the stars are brilliantly beaming ;
Through the calm breathing air a soft beauty is shed,
As round some fair girl, of love dreaming ;
So breathes the pure life in its tranquil decline,
For, apart from moroseness and sorrow,
Religion’s blest lights, like the stars, o’er him shine,
And before him’s a glorious morrow.
TRANSLATION.
Tuyrsis, when he left me, swore
Ere the sprmg he would return—
Ah! what means the opening flower?
And the bud that decks the thorn ?
Twas the nightingale that sung!
’T was the lark that upward sprung !
Idle notes! untimely green!
Why such unavailing haste?
Gentle gales and skies serene
Prove not always winter past.
Cease, my doubts, my fears to move—
Spare the honour of my love.
GRaY.
= /
Ovpoic, eTrel On) TPWTOV am@hAvQev, @mooEv OpKoV
7 - > Ar CIS 929 ~
avOeot voorinoey ev0dc au siaptvoic—
‘i vey’ TL GéXEt KAA Sua onda obey
éypor ey@" Th OéXe KaAvKog oTOpa Ona weracUer,
~ 4 4 a
kat Oéuvn veapy Tavta Bpbovra Barz ;
~ , 3 - ¢/
r6v8’ %eAvov havepwc Avybpwvov anddvog vuLVoV,
tiv § ov OvAvprov & adAopuévnv Képvdor-
160 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Iv.
oXavpa pédn, BAdoTHua O awpLtoy, Ov KaTa Kalpov"
avf? drov axpely omebdere Sevpo TAaXELS
ov yap ast mvom padaky, Kal vhveuoe alfjp
acpadic oiyouévov aha diol mayEToU.
AnyeTe moe Pofsov év Kpadtn, peAeOnpata, KLvELV—
Tov piAlov & avopdg aiya otBecbe Kdéoc.
EE.
Ti E0v0pa tore Ta poda;
Agukov Env 70 podov’ XAWpre © amadaicr xépecou
dpibaro AcbKawvov, orhBeor 7 2Eévioev.
xlove vixnBiv & budow, TAX apshparo Kaddoe,
\ 4 N Q sz > A S sv
kat ro Tapoe AeukOov, ToUVDey zpvO poy Env.
H. Ee:
SPLENDIDE MENDAX.
Assyr1um Juditha ducem aggressura, foventis
Juditha Isacidas lecta ministra Dei,
*Se populum liquisse suum mentitur, et inter
Impetrat Assyrios, arte morata, domum.
“‘ Vos fortuna manet; Fautrix, quo pergitis, adsum ;
Cras ruet Isacidum gensque decusque,” canit.
Verbaque bis victum alliciunt, faciesque, juventa —
Purpurea, incauto dum struit Illa necem. |
Quis malé mendacem probet Hanc? Tu, Summe, jubebas
Foemineo Assyrium succubuisse dolo.
* Judith x. 12—18.
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE.
No. V.
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ASCHYLUS, No. II.
(Continued from p. 127).
"Arne OvehAau Coow.—AscuH. AG.
Tue piece that will come under our consideration
in this article forms the second act of the great Ores-
tean trilogy,—the Choephoree. Between this and the
Agamemnon a long interval has elapsed, during which
Orestes has grown up to manhood under the care of
the Phocian Strophius. /®gisthus and Clytemnestra
still occupy the throne of Argos, while Electra, through
a stubborn opposition to the commands of her impious
mother, is doomed to a long slavery in the royal
palace. The scene opens: Orestes and Pylades enter,
but after a short speech retire: on seeing Electra and
her attendants, the Chorus approach to offer libations at
Agamemnon’s tomb. A choral ode succeeds, and early
as this is in the action of the play, one can hardly help
being struck with the dark intimations it contains of
a vengeance to come, and a full repayment of the
-wickedness committed in the former generations. The
Siadryie¢ dra,* like the dormant fires of a volcano, has
ong smouldered under the ashes: the guilty long
* wy, 62, Ed. Blomf.
162 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. v.
Incessit per ignes suppositos cineri doloso ; to be fanned
into a flame by the arrival of the destined dAdorwo, in
the shape of Orestes. The gods beneath the earth
have signified by threatening dreams their displeasure :
they at last rote Gavotow eykorovoly, and as a first move-
ment in that direction, we see the recognition of
Orestes by Electra through the lock of hair, which
gives her hopes of long-deferred revenge for the various
contumelies and insults which have been heaped upon
her since the death of Agamemnon. Alternations of
speeches between brother and sister succeed, in which
Orestes explains how he has been commissioned by
Apollo to appease the Manes of his father by the blood
of Clytemnestra and her paramour, and relates the
punishments which will descend on him and his race
in case of neglect. The lines in which these intima-
tions are contained will justify quotation :
oUToL Tpodwae Aoglov peyacbevic
Xpnopoc, keAcvwv TOveE Kivouvoy TEpaV,
kabopOidfwv roAAa, kat Ovo xemépove
arac up nmap Ocpuov eEavddpevoc,
El [LN METELLL TOV TaTPOC TOVE aiTlovE,
TPOTOV TOV aUTOV avTaToOKTElval AEywr,
axpnuaroicr Gnulace Tavpotuevov.—(v. 263—269),
In the next scene Orestes and Electra are still on the
stage, at Agamemnon’s tomb, accompanied by the
Chorus. Here, as we have before remarked in the
Agamemnon, we see a stronger colouring or amplifi-
cation of a picture already conceived. ‘The expres-
sions made use of by the Chorus assume a more de-
cided tone ; concerning the ultimate intent of which
ON THE ORESTEIA OF SCHYLUS. 163
the spectators may be supposed to entertain deeper
suspicion. Ate with out-spread wings seems to hover
nearer ; and it is through this kind of phantasmago-
rical bringing forward and elucidation of the piece,
that Aischylus has so far surpassed his two rivals (in
our opinion at least,) in the dramatizing of this story.
Such lines as
avtt pev éyOpac yAwoone éxOpa
yAoooa reAcicAw.—(vv. 303, 304.)
and avrTt os tAnyne poviag povtav
TwAnyny twéitw.—(vv. 306, 307.)
will explain our meaning. The drptaxroc “Ara Was again
to exert its malignant influence, and in accordance
with this Electra relates that Clyteemnestra has had a
fearfully significant dream, that of giving birth to
a dragon, which she suckled with her own blood.
Orestes then declares that he will be this dragon, and
explains how he will contrive to enter the house with
Pylades, under the disguise of Phocians, and be the
herald of his own death to Aigisthus and Clytemnestra.
A splendid choral ode succeeds, on the unbounded
wickedness of women, wherein are instanced the tra-
gedies of Lemnos, Nisus and Scylla, and Althea the
mother of Meleager. It ends with intimations fear-
fully fraught with meaning, all tending to exhibit the
development of the curse entailed on the family of
Tantalus, for now four generations.
réxvov eTElapépel O6[MOLoL,
tov @ aimarwv radaréowy
Tivel UVTOC
xXpdvy krAtTH Pvocadg¢pwv 'Eowvic.—(637—40).
0 2
164 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V:
The scene which follows contains the false news of the
death of Orestes to Clyteemnestra, and her daughter,
who pretends to lament vehemently at the announce-
ment. The nurse then enters and bewails the death of
her charge, after whose exit the chorus again raise a
prophetic strain, intimating the near approach of the
Swuarwv Aurhpioc, and the subsequent rejoicings after the
deed shall have been committed. At last Agisthus
appears, and after asking concerning the report which he
has lately heard, he re-enters the house, whence a short
time afterwards we hear his dying cry.” Clyteemnestra
rushes out, and beholds her son with his sword drip-
ping from the blood of her paramour: she stops and
enquires the cause of this unwonted appearance ; and
soon learns that she is destined as the next victim;
when after a few words of self-defence and expostula-
tion, she most affectingly holds before Orestes the
bosom which had suckled him, and implores for mercy
in the lines
Af? > 9») ,
TOVOE T ALOETAL, TEKVOY,
pacTov, Tpoc w od ToAAG On Spifwy aua
” 3 , 3 \ -
ovAo.olw 2EnusdEac EvTpagec yava.—(vv. 883—5).
Orestes, however, urged by the most powerful incen-
tives from Pylades, drives her into the house to slay
her by the side of A¢gisthus. In this scene, which for
tragic effect remains unsurpassed by any of the Greek
tragedians, we may see the real argument of the play,
or rather the meaning with which A‘schylus laboured
to invest it, developed in the shortest form in the
lines,
ON THE ORESTEIA OF HSCHYLUS. 165
@ ~
KA. 17 Motoa rotrwv, & rékvov, mapatria.
OP. kai révde rolvuy Moip’ éxdoouven pdpov.
In these two lines he has embodied what he wished
to be considered as the ultimate cause of evil, an
emanation from some numen lesum, whose malignant
influence descended from father to son, biassing their
minds and actions, so as to force them to commit deeds,
which if freed from this overruling power they would
have shunned and detested, and the commission of
which necessarily entailed on them an augmentation
of the original curse. The play concludes with Orestes
coming forward and displaying the slain pair on a
couch, and lastly the reappearance of the Ate in his
madness. .
‘To institute a comparison between the Choephore
and the two Electree of Sophocles and Euripides would
be superfluous, after the one given by Schlegel in the
Greek Theatre.* Yet we cannot help believing that
there is developed in A%schylus’ play a deeper
meaning and feeling than ever influenced the mind of
the author of Electra; a something difficult indeed
to be defined in words, but which can hardly fail to
strike any one, who has endeavoured to read the minds
of the ancient writers through their works,—works
which were the truthful utterance of feeling, not
veiled or distorted by any mawkish sensibilities.
Schlegel makes a great point of the heavenly serenity
of Sophocles’ play in the outset, but surely there is
some incongruity in representing this serenity in the
* p. 384. + To put Euripides out of the question.
166 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V. on
midst of horrors, such as those which were rife in the
family of Tantalus. Besides, Sophocles does not give
us in his play what Adschylus does, namely, the co-
operation of religious feeling, which we know to have
formed so large a component part of the Greek mind.
Orestes in the Electra, after the double murder of his
mother and uncle, escapes with impunity ; in the
Choephore, though the act was done in compliance
with Apollo’s express commands, yet the Furies,
paw ylrwvec kal TemAEkTavypévat
TuKvole OpaKkouct,—(v. 1036.)
are visible to the insane vision of the matricide, and
the xspwov yovlac has again sprung up in all its fury.
Alfieri in his Oreste, who has sought to preserve this
idea of not letting Orestes go unpunished for his crime,
first represents what Goethe calls in the Faust a very
milk-and-water Clytemnestra, who is perpetually
vacillating between a sort of infatuated love for AXgis-
thus, and a maternal hankering after her children, and
thus makes Orestes determine to spare her, forgetful
of her ancient wickedness, and softened by her rather
equivocal affection. However, as Orestes is rushing off
in an awful fury to annihilate Aigisthus, by an unlucky
flourish of his sword he mortally wounds Clyteemnestra,
of which fact he is not acquainted till afterwards by
Electra and Pylades, who meet him returning from
the murder of his uncle, and communicate to him the
dolorous news ; whereupon the trio begin to weep, and
the play ends, amid moral sentiments about the power
of fate. Let any one who can muster sufficient
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ZSCHYLUS. 167
Italian compare the last act of the Oreste with the
Choephoree (v. 842, ad fin.), and he will have a con-
vincing proof of ‘that instinctive propriety of manner
and words, in which the Greek Poets set all others at
defiance,” (H. WN. Coleridge, Introd. to Homer, p.
305).
In our next number we shall conclude these remarks,
with an analysis of the Eumenides, the last play of the
Orestean trilogy.
D. 8.
THE HYLAS OF THEOCRITUS.
IN
Nor for us only, as I thought—whoe’er
Of Gods begot him—was young Love begot.
_ Not to us first did what is fair seem fair,
Who are but mortals, and discover not
The faintest prospect of to-morrow’s lot.
But evn Amphitryon’s brazen-hearted son,
Who that wild Nemean lion in his grot
Fearless awaited, was by love undone
Of Hylas, stripling boy, the unshorn, the lovely one—
2.
He taught him, ev’n as father teacheth child,
All—how himself had might and glory gained ;
Nor left him, when the sky at noon-day smiled,
Nor when Aurora swiftly upward reined
Her snowy coursers, nor when night obtained
The empire, and her chirping progeny
Safe ’neath her wings the mother bird restrained :
That so the child might like his master be,
Like him to worth and fame might rise laboriously.
t68 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. ¥-
3.
But when to Jason at Iolcos came
Those mighty men to seek the fleece of gold,
From ev'ry city, most renowned of fame ;
Then too the All-endurer was enrolled,
Argive Alemena’s godlike offspring bold.
And Hylas mounted Argo’s lofty side,
Which touched not those biue rocks together rolled,
But through the gulf into deep Phasis’ tide
Like eagle flew—from whence firm on their base they bide-.
4.
But when the Pleiads rise, and evry mead
Teems with young lambs, nor winter winds molest ;,
That godlike flow’r of heroes then with speed
Unto the voyage each himself addressed,
And, cooped up in Argo’s hollow breast,
Towards Hellespont and fair Propontis bore,
Nine days by timely southern breezes blest—
Propontis, where the rude Bithynian boor
Deep drives the lab’ring plough, along that fruitful shore.
oO)
Along their benches late the twilight feast
They made, and many pressed a single bed —
"Twas a fair wat’ry meadow, for their rest ;
Tall reeds and thick-set galingale they spread.
Then auburn Hylas for Alcides sped,
And Telamon the brave, his urn to fill,
(Who aye as comrades at one table fed, )
His brazen urn—and soon he saw a rill,
Trickling full gently down a soft declining hill.
6.
Around it many a taper rush was seen,
And that blue flow’r that doth remembrance bring,
Fresh maiden-hair and blooming parsley green,
And couch grass, aye through marshes wandering =
“THE HYLAS OF THEOCRITUS. 169.
And ’mid the waters led the magic ring
Those mighty nymphs, that slumber not nor sleep.
Soft-eyed Nychea, like the hues of spring,
Whose rites the awe-struck rustics duly keep,
And Malis and Eunice rulers of the deep.
fc
Down bent unto the stream that peerless boy,
Hasting to fill his weighty urn—they all
Put forth their pearled wrists with eager joy,
And clung unto his hand: Love’s mighty thrall
Shook through each tender heart, to cause his fall.
Headlong he fell, with one resounding wail,
Headlong, as from the pole some fiery ball,
Into the darkling wave—‘“‘ Trim every sail !”’
Th’ impatient seamen cried—‘‘A favourable gale!”
8.
Fondling upon their knees the weeping child,
The Nymphs with kindly words consoled his woe ;
But stern Amphitryon’s son, with sorrow wild,
Set forth with his well-bent Meeotic bow,
And club, wherewith he ever crushed his foe.
Thrice “‘ Hylas’”’ cried he—thrice did Hylas hear
His high deep tonéd voice—and dim and low
A murmur reached him from those waters drear—
Alas! it seemed far off, although it was but near.
9.
As when some lion of majestic mane,
Some famished lion heareth far away
The cry of mountain fawn, and springs amain
Out of his lair to seize the ready prey :
So Hercules, lamenting bitterly
For the lost boy, through many a thorny glen
In madness raved, a long and weary way.
Wretched are they that love !—Through brake and den
How toiled he! What to him were all his glories then?
170. ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
10.
The lofty vessel stood upon the strand —
At night the seamen to the fav’ring breeze
Trimmed all her sails, eager to leave the land.
He careless fled, gnawed by that dire disease,
Which ruthless Venus bade his heartstrings seize.
So Greece fair Hylas as a God adores:
But slanderous tongues defamed Hercules,
Who, leaving Argo of the sixty oars,
By land to Colchos came, and Phasis’ barren shores.
ANCIENT ESTIMATE OF DEATH,
COMPARED WITH THAT DERIVED FROM REVELATION.
‘¢ Animeeque capaces
‘* Mortis.’’ LUCAN.
‘Souls undismayed by death.’’
Ir there is one thing more important than another,
one brought under our notice repeatedly and under
circumstances seldom forgotten, one that calls up more
than another all that is warm, affectionate, and sympa-
thetic in our nature, stifling at the same time all petty
rancour and jealousy, it is that of Death. No feature
stands forth more prominently in our existence than
its close; when it will come—how it will come—in
what position it will find us. And yet very few give
it that attention it deserves, nay, imperatively demands.
For it is a matter in which we can have no choice ; be
we mighty or insignificant, rich or poor, good or bad,
we—all human beings—must yield sooner or later to
ANCIENT ESTIMATE OF DEATH. 171
the King of Terrors. How awfully true is this deserip-
tion of his stealthy approach :—
“* Death rides in every passing breeze,
‘He lurks in every flower ;
‘¢ Hach season has its own disease,
*‘ Its peril every hour. ©
“* Our eyes have seen the very light
‘* Of youth's soft cheek decay,
*“‘ And fate descend in sudden night
*“On manhood’s middle day.
“‘Qur eyes have seen the steps of age
‘“¢ Halt feebly to the tomb ;
*‘ And yet shall earth our thoughts engage,
** And dreams of things to come.” —HzrsER.
Since then all allow that Death is a necessary evil,
though many would reject all ideas of its unseen
approach at any moment of time,
NOC, 7) OELANC, 7} MécOY Hap,
how comes it that beings, who acknowledge their final
responsibility, assume an invincible repugnance to
such unfashionable meditations? Iam in hopes that
the solemn way in which this subject has recently
forced itself on the minds of my younger readers will
incline them to a more favourable attention than other-
wise | might expect from their boyish spirits, and
their natural recklessness “of ills to come, and care
beyond to-day.”
To my mind nothing is more profitable than this
sort of reflection, however awful it may appear; and
more especially so, if we institute a comparison between
172 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO, V.
our views with regard to Death and Immortality with
those of the ancients.
Much as we respect the exalted (I had almost said
Christian) sentiments and high morality of many of
the primary writers of Antiquity, we must admit that,
from the want of explicit revelation, their ideas were not
only not the Truth, but not even like the Truth. Take
the complaint of that most exquisite of all the Roman
poets, Catullus,
“Soles accidere et redire possunt,
** Nobis quum semel occidit brevis lux,
“* Nox est perpetua una dormienda.”
Take the well-known passage, ai, at, rat uadayat, Kk. T. r.
in which a comparison is formed between the fate of
the vegetable with that of the animal creation, a com-
parison, which seems to a Christian to shew of itself
(and that most emphatically) the doctrine of a Resur-
rection. Open any ancient writer, and you will find
the same chilling belief of a total annihilation of soul
and body after death.
Again, in the works of their boasted philosophers,
who professed themselves able to interpret the essence
of a Being, to them and in their age imperceptible,
where shall we find any approach, any faint glim-
merings of the right notion on this point? In
the doctrines of the Stoics, who believed that the soul
was a subtilized fiery being, and could not long survive
the body? In those of the Epicureans, whose Corypheus
boldly avows
“¢Quare, corpus ubi interit, perisse necesse est
‘*Confiteare animam’’— ? Lucret. III. 799.
i c pe en) a ee | IS
ANCIENT ESTIMATE OF DEATH. 173
Or those of the Pythagoreans, who affirmed that the
soul passed from one body to another in perpetual
feroixnorc or transition ? Assuredly in none of them !
—Some few there may indeed have been, blessed with
an intuitive perception of the soul’s immortality ;
mighty Geniuses, who could not brook the thought of
being annihilated for ever, and of having spent a life
of virtue in vain. Such were the views of Socrates,
‘* wisest of all men,” who, in that incomparable address
to his judges, tells them whither he hopes to go after
death, a future companion of all the great and good of
antiquity, and assures them that the prospect of such
bliss made him pant for death even at ther hands. Listen
again to the whole declaration of that most vain, in-
consistent Roman, Cicero—who in his writings soars
infinitely above the apathy and cold indifferentism of
his private practice :—‘‘ Quod si in hoc erro, quod
‘animos hominum immortales esse credam, lubenter
‘erro; nec mihi hunc errorem, quo delector, dum vivo,
“‘ extorqueri volo.”—Even in such a sentiment as this,
especially coming from such a quarter, the wretched
uncertainty of that small hope must strike every one.
But these degrees of happiness, whether placed in the
Elysian fields of Heathenism, or the Houris of Maho-
met, happiness of which the voluptuous man may have
drunk to satiety even in this life, must seem con-
temptible to the Christian, who has been taught by
Revelation to place the 7éAo¢ of a blessed immortality
in intellectual enjoyment; in the realization of plea-
sures far beyond the conception of the most daring
visionary - in the full comprehension of those mysteries,
174 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
which have baffled a life-long curiosity, but which
the faithful shall then know from His mouth, (Whom
face to face they will be perpetually extolling,) even as
they are known.
I cannot refrain in this place from quoting the
words of a most beautiful, though much neglected,
poet of this age :—
‘There is a calm for those who weep,
“A rest for weary pilgrims found,
“They softly lie, and sweetly sleep
‘* Low in the ground.
‘*‘The storm that wrecks the winter sky
‘“No more disturbs their deep repose,
‘«‘'Than summer evening’s latest sigh
“That shuts the rose.” *
But there is another lot for the souls of the blessed :—
« S \ , O ~ ~ , ,
Tl KTEVvELC TOV Avdpd T6VCE THE yEpatac [doc SiknV$
ada pny Eywye TOAA® paddAov av rAainv, peAove
Tov ye cov otpeAovoav expuywv Kaknv adynoova,
mToAAakic THON Tadaa, wakoa TPdG Kw HV Bow,
Evyypapny Adywv OuedOetv tov Kal? ipéoac vewy—
9\ Ya cee s8 eons 4 , \ - ,
GAN Ekwv, EKOV OAOlUNY, TEdE TIKPOY PwrN"maTwY
Tapa Or) oKANPALaL Xopdaic Wra KvaidvTWY, pédrOC
\ \ \ , ilo > \ 2 ,
iv TO GOV povoy TEptionc, TOUMOY EATLCOV Kea
3! , - ti € , , tL en Pid
alALvov O€ 170 ULVICOVTAa TOV oy. eMOv WTOTE.
5.) ar
177
WILD FLOWERS.
** Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.’’—GRAY.
Tae feeling which suggested some of his finest
thoughts and most beautiful images to our poet, (may
we be allowed to call him our poet, as being especially
the poet of Eton?) is one to which we are naturally
led by the numerous recorded instances of genius
having triumphed over the caprice of fortune, and the
obstacles thrown in its way by a station in life un-
favourable to its developement. Where so many have
risen to eminence, unretarded by the adverse circum-
stances of birth and position, it is natural to suppose
that many more have lingered on through their lives
in undeserved obscurity, merely from the want of a
fitting opportunity of bringing themselves into notice.
The fortunate accidents which have procured for so
many geniuses patronage, education, and an introduc-
tion to the world, have probably been wanting in a
far greater number of instances; and we are induced
to think that many ambitious hopes, many burning
aspirations after glory, have thus passed away, un-
heeded and undeveloped. How often has the fire of
genius been quenched by the cold water of common
place realities, of poverty and obscurity ! How often
must the child of Fancy have been awakened from a
reverie, in which he was castle-building in dreams of
P
178 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
future fame, by the uncomfortable and unpoetical
recollection that he depended for his bread on the
labour of his hands !
The state of these untutored geniuses has been de-
sisnated by the name of Imprisoned Mind—a mind
endowed with high natural powers, but through lack
of education preying upon itself, and pining away
in a thirst for knowledge which it cannot attain.
Such must be the condition of many of that class of
intellects of which we are speaking; they have a keen
intuitive perception of the beauties of nature, without
possessing knowledge enough to moralize upon them ;
they feel conscious of a capacity for higher things,
and, like Bonnivard in the dungeon of Chillon, wither
away through want of that liberty of the mind which
would give full scope to its powers. The self-con-
suming effects of genius are well known; if it be not
permitted the free exercise of its powers, it soon rages
destructively against itself; and such must often have
been the fate of those Wild Flowers, endued by
Nature with the seeds of true genius, and which
needed only culture to render them equal to the
fairest of her productions. We cannot refrain from
again quoting the words of our favourite poet:
«‘ But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne’er unroll ;
Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.”
Still more melancholy is it, however, to contemplate
that which is worse than merely dormant—perverted
WILD FLOWERS. 179
and misapplied genius. When we see powers of mind
that, under the control of virtue and right principle,
might have rendered their possessor a benefactor to
mankind, and an ornament to his age and country, we
grieve to think that what Nature designed to-be a
blessing, the perversity of man has turned into a curse.
What are termed the “ eccentricities of genius,” ren-
der it peculiarly liable to misdirection; the feelings of
men of genius are more easily acted upon, and a mor-
bid sensibility very commonly accompanies it: unless
therefore its energies are directed into a proper chan-
nel by the most careful culture, it often leaves upon
our minds the melancholy impression that it might
have done better things. Few can contemplate un-
moved the brilliant talents, the youthful errors, and
the untimely fate of Chatterton: dying as he did at
an age scarcely removed from mere boyhood, the
records of his genius which he has left us in his poems
increase tenfold our regret, that so bright an intellect
should have been uncontrolled by firmness of princi-
ple, and unrefined by proper cultivation. His is a
character which claims and receives at our hands a
peculiar sympathy; his extreme youth, coinciding
with our own age and that of many of our school-
fellows, and the melancholy which marked him in life
and in death, and imparted its colouring to his poetry,
combine to render him in our eyes an object of more
than common interest. The traces of genius discern-
ible in his compositions are such, that it is impossible
to say how high he might have risen, had his talents
been improved by education, and restrained by good
p 2
180 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Vv.
sense. But he was a Wild Flower, and perished for
want of culture.
The brief and chequered career of Shelley affords
another illustration of the preceding remarks ; not that
he suffered through lack of knowledge, or from any
disadvantages of birth or rank ; but the wild and way-
ward character of his genius, and the fanciful notions
which it led him to entertain, seem to point him out
as a fit subject for notice in these pages. Though he
possessed talents that might have done honour to the
place of his education, his behaviour at Eton was such
as could not fail to estrange from him the sympathies
of all around him; and he had no one but himself to
blame, that he alone was miserable where all besides
were happy. Despising alike the studies and the
pleasures of his school-fellows, he sought refuge from
the world in solitude and meditation; and even at
that early age, his thoughts were marked by the same
daring character, the same disregard for Revelation,
which in maturer years detracted so considerably from
his poetical fame. His youth was altogether consistent
with his manhood : at the age of eighteen he wrote his
poem of “ Queen Mab,” the boldness and impiety of
which were not surpassed by any of his later produc-
tions. The perfectibility of human nature was the
leading idea of this work ; and in accordance with this
scheme, he considered the Christian Religion rather as
an obstacle to the performance of virtues, than as the
only means of performing them. How painful an ex-
ample have we here of talent misapplied, of the noblest
gifts of Providence abused! Loftiness of thought,
WILD FLOWERS. 18]
when it ceases to bow before the authority of Revela-
tion, and speculates on forbidden subjects, is like the
presumption of the rebellious builders on the plain of
Shinar; no human intellect can attain any real subli-
mity when opposed to Divine Truth, but only when
submitting to be placed under its guidance. What
shall we say then of the poetical genius of him, who
made it a vehicle for the doctrines of Voltaire? Here
lies the secret of Milton’s unapproachable superiority
over other poets: his genius rose together with the
orandeur of his theme, and he thus achieved a far
ereater intellectual triumph than was ever won by the
mere force of thought. Surely then nothing can be
more preposterous, or carries its own refutation more
completely, than the notion of Shelley and others, that
the range of the human mind 1s circumscribed by being
kept subservient to a belief in the Christian religion.
Not to weary our readers by multiplying instances,
we will merely direct their attention to a Wild Flower
which developed itself in Fortune’s despite, without
however losing its natural and unsophisticated charac-
ter: we allude to that powerful, though uncultivated
genius, the Ettrick Shepherd. ‘The poetry of James
Hogg presents a most remarkable example of rude
vigour of mind ; his manners and personal appearance,
and the education which he had received, were in no
respect different from those of the most illiterate boor;
yet his verses have a softness and sweetness in their
simplicity, of which the most accomplished poet might
be proud. His good fortune, in being countenanced
by so powerful a patron as Sir Walter Scott, forms a
182 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
striking contrast to the ill success which has attended
many similar aspirants after literary fame; but, as we
have before observed, it seems to be the exception and
not the rule, that genius should find favour with the
world. Analogy seems to lead us to the conclusion,
that many more of the Wild Flowers of intellect perish
through the inclemency of the weather, and the un-
congenial soil in which they are planted, than are suc-
cessfully reared and brought to maturity by early care
and attention.
Far be it from us, however, to judge harshly of those
who have failed in establishing a reputation equal to
their deserts, or to maintain that their ill-success must
necessarily have been owing to some want of ability or
discretion on their part : still less would we be disposed
hastily to condemn those misguided beings, whose
talents have been diverted from their legitimate chan-
nels, and exercised in other causes than those of virtue
and religion; for, in these instances, the fault lies
generally with their education rather than with them-
selves. A right course of training alone was necessary
to render them not only distinguished intellects, but
virtuous and worthy members of society; and if the
difficulties which beset their path proved too strong for
their principles, they claim our compassion rather than
our censure, as frail and erring mortals. We cannot
conclude with a better apology for both these descrip-
tions of Wild Flowers, than by quoting the opening
stanza of Beattie’s Minstrel :
Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame’s proud temple shines afar,
GEORGE HERBERT. 183
Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with Fortune an eternal war ;
Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy’s frown,
And Poverty’s unconquerable bar,
In life’s low vale remote has pined alone,
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown.
GEORGE HERBERT.
(Concluded from p. 22.)
TAUTA MOVE TAUT EKpEAETE’ TOUTWY YON EpgY CE
~ A ~ / ? ~ > ww f
TaUTA OETHC OEing apEeTie eicixwa Inoe.
PYTHAGORAS—ypvod én.
WueEn Mr. Lockhart in ‘‘ Peter’s Letters to his Kins-
folk,” is comparing the style of two eminent Scotch
advocates, and describes the impossibility of appre-
clating the quiet elegance of the one, after listening to
the energetic fervour and impassioned oratory of the
other, he says, that the auditor of the former would be
subject to the same feelings, as he “ who has just been
contemplating some rich, luxuriant piece of the Dutch
or Flemish school, and cannot taste in immediate
transition the more pale, calm, correct gracefulness of
an Italian fresco. Nevertheless the eyes become cool
as they gaze, and the mind is gradually yielded up to
a less stimulant, but in the enda yet more capti-
vating and soothing species of seduction.” From the
184 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
affinity of the two arts, it is not difficult to transfer the
sentiment to poetry. We can hardly expect that the
youthful mind will be attracted by such a style as
Herbert’s. A school has grown up which has especial
charms for youth: aclass of writings characterized
by great sensibility, a profusion of imagery, and an
unsurpassable melody of diction, developing each re-
quisite for Poetry, luxuriance of ideas, and exquisitely
harmonious versification. But to the cool, reflective
critic, who looked beyond this, there appeared, in this
style, a chilling indifference to all the high, intellectual
purposes of Poetry, to common morality, not to speak
of religion. ‘This objection was certainly justified by
the fact, that while men’s senses were absorbed in such
delights, our greatest Poets, the mighty master-pieces
of genius, were suffered to pass into obscurity. Shak-
speare and Milton were thrown aside for Byron and
Moore. Lately, however, a reaction has taken place ;
and we must wonder at the depraved taste of the time
when men* ‘‘ sate with dazzled eyes at a high festival
of poetry, where, as at the funeral of Arvalan, the
torchlight put out the starlight.’ )
The mind and muse of the divine Herbert were of
the most pure and unaffected nature. ‘I need not,”
says he, ina letter to his mother when a freshman at
Cambridge, ‘ the scholar’s help, to reprove the vanity
of those many love-poems that are daily writ and con-
secrated to Venus; nor to bewail that so few are writ
that look toward God and heaven. For my own part,
my meaning is in these sonnets, to declare my resolu-
* Preface to Taylor’s ‘‘ Philip Van Artevelde,’’ a Dramatic Romance, p. xi.
GEORGE HERBERT. 185
tion to be, that my poor abilities in poetry shall be for
ever consecrated to God’s glory.”* Is he to be
thought lightly of by modern critics, because he pre-
ferred to hymn the praises of his Maker, while he
ministered at the altars of His Church? Yet—though
Herbert, from inclination as well as from the nature of
his profession, chose this line of poetry, it is not neces-
sary to question his secular learning. We know that
he was an excellent scholar in a variety of languages,
and we have seen poems of his, Greek and Latin, of all
metres, that would by no means disgrace a modern
student. Rather let it be considered in his favour, that,
being a great scholar, he chose the humble, secluded
life of a Parish Priest, from which retirement he might
‘‘behold the court with an impartial eye, and see
plainly that it is made up of fraud, titles, flattery, and
many other empty, imaginary, painted pleasures—so
empty, as not to satisfy when enjoyed; but in God
and His service isa fulness of all joy and pleasure,
and no satiety.” And if he did ever gladden his
friends with the production of his luxuriant muse, the
outpourings of an overflowing piety, his talents were
always exercised in the right direction, and that which
best befitted his sacred office, always used in honour
of his Maker, and in vindication of the Church and
the Monarchy.
The following stanzas are free trom the mysterious
quaintness which offends some tastes; on them and
two or three other Poems we intend to rest Herbert’s
claim to the title of a Poet :—
* Willmott’s Sacred Poets, p. 234.
186 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Vv.
EASTER.
I got me flowers to strew thy way ;
I got me boughs off many a tree ;
But Thou wast up by break of day,
And brought’st Thy sweets along with Thee !
The sun arising in the East,
Though he give light, and th’ East perfume ;
If they should offer to contest
With Thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
Though many suns to shine endeavour ?
We count three hundred, but we miss ;
There is but one, and that One ever.
EMPLOYMENT.
If, as a flower doth spread, and die,
Thou wouldst extend to me some good,
Before I were by frost’s extremity
Nipt in the bud ; .
The sweetness and the praise were Thine,
But the extension and the room
Which in Thy garland I should fill, were mine,
At Thy great doom.
For as Thou dost impart Thy grace
The greater shall our glory be:
The measure of our Joys is in this place,
The stuff with Thee.
Let me not languish then and spend
A life as barren to Thy praise,
As is the dust to which that life doth tend,
| But with delays.
All things are busy ; only I
Neither bring honey with the bees,
Nor flowers to make that, nor the husbandry
To water these.
GEORGE HERBERT. 187
I am no link of Thy great chain ;
But all my company is as a weed ;
Lord, place me in Thy concert, give one strain
To my poor reed.
VIRTUE.
Sweet Day! so cool, so calm, so bright,
The Bridal of the earth and sky,
The dew must weep thy fall to-night,
And thou must die :
Sweet Rose! whose hue, angry and brave,
Bid the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.
Sweet Spring! full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie ;
. My music shews ye have your closes,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber, never gives ;
Though all the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
What the affected taste is in these last verses, which
Mr. Willmott complains of, we confess ourselves at a
loss to conceive.
Two more stanzas—and we have done. The first
is from a poem called ‘‘ Home.”
+ + of ‘
+ + x *
O loose this frame! This knot of man untie !
That my free soul may use her wing,
Which now is pinioned with mortality,
As an entangled, hampered thing.
O shew thyself to me,
Or take me up to Thee!—
188 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
How beautiful are these ‘‘ longings after immortality,”
like those of the sweet Lyrist of Israel: “Oh that I
had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be
at rest.’ The subject of the next is ‘‘ Church rents
and schisms.”’ We tremble at the bare possibility of
the recurrence of such scenes as Herbert witnessed, the
murder of the Primate and his Sovereign, of Blessed
Memory; the Church destroyed and trampled on;
and Her ministers ejected from the service of the altar.
Brave Rose! alas! where artthou? In the chair
Where thou didst lately so triumph and shine
A worm doth sit, whose many feet and hair
Are the more foul, the more thou wert divine.
This, this hath done it. This did bite the root
And bottom of the leaves : which when the wind
Did once perceive, it blew them under foot,
Where rude unhallowed steps do crush and grind
Their beauteous glories : only shreds of thee,
And those all bitten, in thy chair I see.
Those who object to sacred poetry, seem to be igno-
rant that no species of poetry is so difficult of execu-
tion, and consequently, that more praise is due to him
who stands out,—as Herbert does in our opinion—
first, or nearly so, of his class. Milton, who may be
allowed to know more than any man the requisites for
this style, calls a sacred poem, “a work not to be
raised from the heat of youth, nor to be obtained by
the invocation to Memory and her Siren daughters,
but by devout prayer to that eternal Spirit, who can
enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends
out His seraphim with the hallowed fire from His
altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases.”
GEORGE HERBERT. 189
Now it is greatly in favour of Herbert, that in his
own unsettled age, his works enjoyed wonderful popu-
larity. The first edition of his ‘‘ Temple” appeared
in 1633 ; twenty thousand copies had been sold when
his Life was written by his affectionate biographer
Izaak Walton, and it had reached a seventh edition in
1656. We should be thankful that, by the talents and
piety of a few members of our Church, attention has
been more directed to such Poems as his. In fact, in
the style of ‘‘ The Christian Year,” “The Lyra A posto-
lica,”’ “‘ The Cathedral,” &e. we can trace a distinct
resemblance to that of Donne—Herbert—-Quarles—
Withers, &c. There is prominent in each school a
love for the duties of a pastor, and a burning zeal for
religion, and a veneration for the ancient customs and
ceremonies of the Church. |
In short—wherever true Piety is, George Herbert
will be affectionately cherished. It is impossible, as
Willmott says, ‘‘ to read of him, and not to love him.”
He spreads purity over the soul, and where he is,
pollution cannot come; like that musician,* whom
Agamemnon, when he went to Troy, left as the guar-
dian of his wife’s virtue, and whom the adulterer was
forced to remove out of the way before he could effect
his purpose.
Meek Herbert, would that such as I
Could learn thy lesson high ;
Those ways that made thy spirit’s tone
A midnight orison ;
Thy more than manly wisdom free,
And child’s simplicity.
* Hom. Odyss. 277. sqq.
190 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
For angels ever with thee are,
And in their presence fair
Thy spirit feels it poor and mean,
But golden thoughts do gleam,
Which fall like light from off their wings
When bowed to earth it sings.*
Is it unreasonable to hope that the Divine Herbert
will find favour among Etonians ? and why should he
not? We do not wish that any real poet should be
excluded from their libraries: we ask a place in them
for him.
Let us then, at parting, recommend him to our
readers, as a Poet, aScholar, and a Churchman. The
more he is read, the more we shall see the spirit of
true religion infused into the minds of the people: and
we shall witness with joy fresh zeal, fresh love, for
that best of mothers—the Church of England.
Cy B. BE:
PEDANTS AND PEDANTRY.
‘¢ Tout habillard, tout censeur, tout pédant,
Se peut connaitre au discours que j’ avance.’’—La Fonraine.
aPC
‘‘ A titTLE knowledge,” says the-proverb, ‘is a dan-
gerous thing:” if, then, its tendency is to raise conceit
and undue notions of self-importance, (and in this lies
its danger,) the matter is made far worse when consi-
derable, or even extraordinary attainments are unac-
companied by good sense. ‘True, the legitimate
effect of increased knowledge is to counteract and
* The Cathedral.
PEDANTS AND PEDANTRY. 19]
dispel the conceit of sciolists, and by extending their
views, and affording a deeper insight into what
learning really is, to make them more sensible of their
deficiency. But it too often happens that, if a little
knowledge is a dangerous thing, great knowledge is
even more so; the egotism engendered by early pro-
gress too often fails to give way before the refining
and polishing influence of matured intellect; and the
fruits of it are displayed in Pedantry, one of the innu-
merable forms of boredom.
Now, to our eyes, a Pedant is not merely one who
obtrudes on society his acquaintance with the classics
_by perpetual quotations from them, or his skill in
modern languages by continually interlarding his dis-
course with them ; the conversation of one who deals
neither in classical allusions nor in Achos de Paris
may be pedantic in the extreme, though the words
and expressions which it makes use of may all be
drawn from the pure well of English - undefiled.
Nor do we include in this category those who talk
“shop,” as the phrase is; it must be something far
worse than pedantry, it must be downright vulgarity,
which leads a medical student to shock the ears, and
spoil the appetites of ladies, with the revolting details
of the dissecting-room. We feel that we cannot better
define pedantry than by quoting the words of Milton,
whose own profound and varied learning was under
the guidance of so correct a taste, that it served to
heighten and adorn, instead of encumbering his genius.
They are taken from the fourth book of “ Paradise
Regained,” verse 322 :—
192 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
‘“‘ He who reads
Incessantly, and to his reading brings not
A spirit and judgment equal or superior,
Uncertain and unsettled still remains,
Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself,
Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys,
As children gathering pebbles on the shore.”
In the above lines Milton clearly shews wherein
pedantry consists—in the possession of a mass of con-
fused and ill-digested information, without any refining
or controlling spirit. ‘The consequence of this lack of
sense is an affectation of superior knowledge, a habit
of displaying it at unseasonable times, and a disregard
of the established usages of society both in language.
and manners. To borrow an illustration from the
same great poet, a mass of learning heaped together
without clearness or arrangement is in the same state
as Chaos, before the illuminating and vivifying Spirit
had separated land and sea, light and darkness.
Persons of this character are too apt to set themselves
up as wiser than other men, and often to offend against
good manners by the inopportune and authoritative
introduction of their own opinions. Their interfering
disposition leads them to set up for teachers of others,
while they are themselves in need of instruction on a
most important point, that of propriety—while the
dogmatic and self-sufficient air which they assume
renders their own boluses a most unpalatable dose.
One of the many shapes in which this pedantic
spirit manifests itself, is im an affected precision of
language and orthography. Forgetful of the maxims
PEDANTS AND PEDANTRY. 193
that custom is the only rule in such cases, they must
needs consider the ordinary Queen’s English not cor-
rect enough for their fastidious ears; and accordingly
they set to work at reforming the Grammar and Dic-
tionary. To give one instance out of many that we
could adduce, and omitting mention of the hostility
which they evince to the established method of accen-
tuation ; we have often been amused at the perversity
of some who think to show themselves superior to vul-
gar prejudices, by speaking of ‘‘mouthsful” and
“‘spoonsful,” instead of ‘ mouthfuls” and “ spoonfuls.”
In our humble opinion, the latter is the more correct
as well as the more usual expression. The pedant goes
on in this fashion, detecting some imaginary error in
each customary phrase, and grating on our ears at
every turn with an “ improved” language, which,
however it may agree with his notions of exactness, is
not English,—nor any other language that we are
aware of. And when these and similar ‘ improve-
ments” are enforced by finding fault with those who
do not agree to them, the pedant becomes an insuffer-
able bore.
Want of space forbids us here to enlarge on that
most disagreeable species of pedantry, the absurd and
ill-timed introduction of learning. We would gladly
entertain our readers with the description of an Eton
boy’s horror, when he expects in the Christmas vaca-
tion at least a temporary respite from such thoughts,
at meeting with a partner in the shape of a blue, whose
talk savours of far different steps from those of the
dance, the Gradus ad Parnassum. We might also
Q
194 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
speak of learned Greek professors, who forgot to leave
their classical lore behind in the lecture-room, and
carried it with them to the drawing-room. In the
mouth of ladies, or addressed to them, pedantry is
particularly offensive ; and it were much to be wished
that such Blue Belles were obliged to wear a conspi-
cuous emblem, like the yellow flag of quarantine, as a
warning to others to avoid them.
While, however, we enter our protest against innova-
tions in the language, and precise cavils at words, we by
no means desire to censure those who strive to correct
real errors and popular prejudices ; but unfortunately it
isin trivial and unimportant matters only that pedantry
is manifested; and while it condescends to trifle with
minute verbal distinctions, on graver subjects it is for
the most part silent. And this very circumstance of
the trivial nature of its so-called “improvements,”
is one of the most convincing reasons that can be
urged against it. As a warning to men of genius and
learning to beware of this error, Dr. Johnson, in his
‘¢ Lives of the Poets,” has some sensible remarks; and
they are the more worthy of notice, as his own prac-
tice was quite at variance with the good advice which
he gives to others. After summing up the character
of Savage, he says in conclusion :—“ This relation will
not be wholly without its use, if those who, in confi-
dence of superior capacities or attainments, disregard
the common maxims of life, shall be reminded that
nothing will supply the want of prudence; and that
negligence and irregularity, long continued, will make
knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius con-
‘TRANSLATION FROM SIMONIDES. 195
temptible.” It is greatly to be regretted that he, who
in these words proved how well he knew the nature
and cause of Pedantry, should have exhibited in his
own life so strong an instance of this very fault; a
fault which rendered him an object of aversion to
many of his contemporaries. The pedantry of John-
son adds another name to the melancholy catalogue of
great men, who have benefitted others by their pre-
cepts and instruction, but were not sufficiently strong-
minded to reduce them to practice in their own person.
TRANSLATION FROM SIMONIDES.
[Some time ago we received a contribution in the shape of a trans-
lation of Simonides’ famous ode ére Adpraxe ev datdadéa, x. 7. A.
It was declined, partly because the piece had been so frequently
translated before; and partly, from some little errors, which might
have been removed with a little judicious alteration. Since that
time, however, the author has been taken away from us, and the
article assumes fresh claims to our notice. Weare sure that the fact
of its bemg a memorial of a deceased schoolfellow will disarm criti-
cism, and that our readers will be gratified at seeing in a periodical,
in which he took an interest, the humble tribute of its conductors
to his good qualities, and the universal regret of those who knew
him for his untimely death.—Ed. E. 8. M. |
SIMONIDES—DANAE, &c.
WueEn o’er her fragile bark the wind
In raging fury blew,
The troubled waters o'er her mind
A sad foreboding threw.
She clasped her Perseus to her breast,
Her cheeks yet moist with tears,
Her sleeping offspring she caressed,
And thus poured forth her fears :
196 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. Ve
‘“ What cares disturb my anxious soul,
What troubles rack my brain ;
In infancy’s unconscious bliss
Thou knowest not my pain ;
And in this dreary, brass-bound ark,
Reclining on my breast,
Despite the raging elements
Thou liest in peaceful rest.
‘“What though the troubled waters roar?
The darkness close us round ?
The billows o’er thy head may pour,
The stormy wind resound !
Secure from fear, in purple robe,
Thou sleepest all-enrolled,
A. babe in slumber’s sweet embrace,.
And beauteous to behold.
“‘ Tf what I fear should mar thy joy,.
If thee my words disturbed,
‘Sleep, I would say, sleep on, my boy,
The tempest’s rage be curbed.’
Great Jove, our fortune change, I pray,
And hear me unreproved ;
Not for myself these words I say,
}?9
But for my best beloved
[A. F. Custancn, July 1847.}
FORGIVENESS.
As, trampled under careless feet,
The flowerets of the field,
By injury become more sweet,
A richer perfume yield :
So breathes the meek and pious heart
Forgiveness to its foes,
More noble under sorrow’s smart,
More heavenly in its woes.
197
FROM EURIPIDES’ HIPPOLYTUS,
vv. /29—748 (ed. Monk.)
STROPHE.
I would I dwelt in lofty caves,
To view the distant waves ;
Ur on eagle pinions dight
To chase the sunbeams dancing bright,
Lightly flitting o’er the foam
Cf Adria’s conflicting waters,
Or where Eridanus’ three daughters,
In love of Phaéthon,
Distil mto their father’s purple wave
The amber light of tears, an offering to his grave.
ANTISTROPHE.
Would I could fly to Afric’s shore,
Where orchards, as of yore,
Yearly a golden produce bring,
_ And Hesperus’ fair daughters sing ;
Where the purple river’s lord
The sailor’s onward course restrains,
Dwelling near Atlas’ ancient reigns ;
And round Jove’s awful throne,
A thousand rivulets of nectar shine,
And Gods rejoice for aye in golden fields divine.
Ho &. C:
THE EPITAPH OF GRISOSTOMO,
Don Quixote, part I. ch. 14, ad fin.
duvathvou Wuxpov cap évOace Keira 2pacToi,
(ouxdAo¢ 1Vs dvaEspwC vi Davarwoe 76000"
kadAlorne édauacce Kdpne viv Bupoe areipne:
2 jig wuoe ava& pelCov *Epwe xaréye.
HH. Ee C,
198 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V.
THE LEGEND OF RYDE.
-_—__—
We have received the following poem from a foreign correspon-
dent, and we cannot do better than quote his own words as an
introduction to it :—
“About 100 years ago, where the flourishing town of Ryde now
stands, there was a small village inhabited chiefly by fishermen,
situated on a low muddy coast ; since that time the character of the
shore has entirely altered, and a layer of fine sand has made its
appearance. ‘The enclosed legend then endeavours to account for
this change.”
THE evening breeze is blowing chill,
And a heavy rain is falling,
And the petrel amid the surging waves
To his mate is shrilly calling.
Drearily sets in the darksome night ;
No stars are seen, and the moon’s pale light
Is hid by the masses of driving cloud,
As they veil the sky with a murky shroud.
The storm is rising, the waves run high,
And the wind in gusts right mournfully
O’er the waters sweeps from the troubled sky.
On the crests of the wild waves dancing
A ship is dimly seen, :
Its toilsome way advancing
Through the foaming billows sheen,
And gleams of light are glancing
Bright where its path has been.
On, on—no rest—for tempest-tost,
Their canvass rent, their reckoning lost,
The mariners know not the danger nigh,
Till the man at the helm with eager eye
Perceives a long low line of shore,
No rocks—no breakers—the sullen roar
Of the waves, as the muddy coast they lash,
Is heard for a moment—she strikes,—one crash !—
Tis done !—down the roaring wind rings a cry,
As of mortals who feel the last death-agony.
THE LEGEND OF RYDE. 199
*Tis hushed—and onward the billows roll,
With their hollow booming they seem to toll
A solemn knell for many a soul,
And the sea-birds shriek and wheel around,
As they bear ’midst the tempest the fearful sound.
The first pale blush of morning gleams
On the subsiding waves,
And the tempest’s angry brow with beams
Of sunny brightness laves. |
No sound is heard in the gentle air,
No trace is left in the scene so fair,
Where the stormy breath of the tempest has passed.
The tiny waves are flowing in fast,
And joyously smiling beneath the sun’s light.
Look! what may that spot be that glances so bright,
Midst the slime and the weed on the muddy coast ?
°Tis where the good ship in the tempest was lost,
Where she sank with her crew to rise no more;
And now, ’midst the waves on the echoing shore,
A bright sunny fountain of sand is up-springing,—
On, onward it flows ;—hark! what music is ringing
On the wind, as the sand-spring is spreading around,
"Tis the song of the sea-nymphs, that silvery sound,
As they joyfully welcome their new dancing ground.
And still each night,
When the moon’s calm light
On the rippling waves is glancing,
On the soft white sand
There is seen a band
Of fairies merrily dancing.
Their song floats o’er the sleeping sea,
And when on the breeze their sweet melody
The wandering mariner’s slumber stirs,
He turns in his cot as the sound he hears,
And dreams, while he sails *neath the heavens so blue,
Of the sinking ship and her perishing crew.
200
PRIDE AND HUMILITY.
eer may seem strange to an inconsiderate eye, that such a poor violet virtue (as
Humility) should ever dwell with honour ; and that such an aspiring fume as
Pride is, should ever sojourn with a constant baseness.”’
Felltham’s Century of Resolves.
Tue gaudy flower of the aloe-tree,
From its tall stem, which for a hundred years
Has stood unhonour’d, now in pride appears,
Calls forth all eyes and praise, while all men see
And wonder. This, when its short-liv’'d success,
Its brief unprofitable pride has gone,
Will stand another century, alone,
A very spectacle of uselessness,
A barren spot upon a fruitful ground.
The yearly violet wins how much more praise,
Honour’d the more because it shuns the gaze,
Which sheds its modest sweetness all around !
Pride in the end shall ever meanest be,
The greatest honour is humility.
INSCRIPTION ON A STONE WELL AT PARIS.
“Que dat aquas, saxo latet hospita nympha sub imo.
Sic tu, quum dederis dona, latere velis.”
IDEM ANGLICE REDDITUM.
The nymph, who gives these waters, lies
Beneath the inmost rock concealed.
Like her, when thou hast given gifts,
Be willing to be unrevealed.
IDEM GRACE,
Naio towe mapéxovoay asi omiAde de KadirrEt
Tov dwpwv KOopnm éott, TO ddvra Aabeiv.
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE.
No. VI.
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ASCHYLUS, No. III.
| (Continued from p. 167.)
THE EUMENIDES.
TA AKWNTA VOMLWA AplaTa.—THUC.
THe Eumenides, properly speaking, cannot be
considered in the light of a drama, inasmuch as there
is no attempt at a plot in its construction, but simply
a detail of circumstances in the order in which they
are supposed to have occurred. Atschylus, however,
in writing this play, had a different object in view
from that which appears most prominent in the two
former,—a political object, which necessarily biassed
his mind in a certain direction, and to which he ren-
dered the legend he had to deal with subservient.
This was the proposed diminution of the power of the
court of Areopagus by Pericles and Ephialtes, a mea-
sure which, being in itself so entirely of a democratical
nature, could not but fill the minds of the nobler part
of the citizens, who looked upon this tribunal as their
chief bulwark, with doubt and apprehension. The
influence of the drama was always considerable over
the minds of the people of Athens, through its intimate
connection with religion; and hence we shall have
R
# ,
202 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE NO. VI.
little difficulty in perceiving for what reason Aischylus
chose to embody his political sentiments in a dramatic
form. It is from this cause that the action of destiny
is less conspicuous in this than in the two preceding
tragedies : something however was wanting to declare
in what way the até in the family of Pelops, which
had been receiving fresh renewals of strength through
various crimes, was at length set torest for ever ; and
the poet has contrived to effect this in a manner cal-
culated to impress on the minds of all reflecting
persons the deep veneration due to divine things, and
more especially to those whose worth and excellence
had been sanctioned by antiquity. To understand
how this is done, it will be necessary first to give a
brief outline of the action in this play, from which its
connection with the others will be more distinctly
seen.
It opens with the solemn address of the aged
Pythoness to the primeval gods, before approaching
to consult the oracle at the sacred Delphic shrine.
When she has concluded her invocation, she enters,
but presently returns and relates how she has seen
the Furies asleep in the temple, a race of women,
7 / \ 3 a
AMTEPOL YE fonV LoELV
’ d \ a“ /
avTat, pédawwat 6 és TO TAY BdoeXUKTpPOTOL,
péyxovat 8 ov TAaGTOIGL puaidmact. (VV. 5I—53.)
Apollo and Orestes then enter ; and after a conver-
sation, in which the latter expresses his doubts and
fears, Apollo recommends him to flee to the statue of
Pallas at Athens, under the guidance of Hermes, who
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ASCHYLUS. 203
is invisibly present. Then the ghost of the murdered
Clyteemnestra rises, and taunts the Furies for their
supineness and negligence, in thus allowing their prey
to escape é« wécwv apxvopator,* and at the same time
bewails the wretched effects of her own crime, now
terribly visited on herself in the world of shades. She
at length disappears, when the Furies wake, and in a
choral ode declare their implacable enmity against
Apollo and the younger gods, for having thus despolied
them; till they are driven out of the temple by the
entrance of the god himself.
ovToL dopotae Tolade YpiumrecOat TpéTrel,
ANN’ ov KapavyjoThpes opPVarpa@pvyot
dixar, chayat Te, oreppatos T atrodOopal
/
TALLOW, K. T. dr.
A conversation follows, the result of which is, that
both parties resolve to appeal to the wisdom of .Pallas
for arbitration, and, by means of a change of scenery,
we discover Orestes in the attitude of a supplant
before the image of the virgin goddess in the Parthenon.
A choral ode succeeds, in which the Furies hymn
forth their power over mortals, and the punishments
they are enabled to inflict, in the most superb language.
The whole spirit of this hymn is thoroughly A‘schylean,
and there could hardly be selected a better proof of
the grandeur of A‘schylus’ conceptions, and the power
he possessed of clothing them in suitable forms of
expression, than this chorus.
Pallas now appears, and after some deliberation
* y, 112. Ed. Wellauer.
Rye
204 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
accepts the office of arbitrator offered her by both
parties : Apollo and the Furies argue against one
another in short speeches: Minerva takes the votes,
which come forth equal in number, by which she de-
clares Orestes to be acquitted and absolved from his
curse. He offers up a prayer of thanksgiving, and
then quits the stage; while the Furies, indignant at
their defeat, complain of the insolence of these younger
deities, who thus openly violated the majesty of those
of the old Titanian race. Pallas however after a time
pacifies them, and the play ends with a solemn pro-
cession of men, women, and children, bearing torches,
and clothed with purple garments, to conduct the
Furies on their way to the nether world.
In our last article, on the Choephorce, we quoted
some lines of that play, containing Apollo’s injunctions
to Orestes to retaliate on his father’s murderer, and
an awful series of punishments, which he was to in-
herit in case of disobedience. Had not the Eumenides
been preserved, the first lines of the prediction
ovtot tpodwae: Aokiou peyaoberns
Keng Los
would seem strangely at variance with the conclusion
of.the drama, where Orestes is represented as suffering
under the 47 of his mother’s blood. Here however
we find the fulfilment of the prophecy : Orestes urges
in his defence
Kal Tevoe Kowy Aoklas émrattios
ayn Tpopwvav avtixevTpa Kapdia
EL un TL T@VS epEatme TOvS EmratTious. (VV. 443—-5.)
ON THE ORESTEIA OF MSCHYLUS. 205
so that the addotwp dono, which had for so many years
occasioned a series of retributive murders in the family
of Pelops, was now set at rest for ever. Hence in this
play the principle of Destiny is less visible. and be-
comes incorporated and united with the other great ob-
ject Aischylus had in view,—the defence of the ancient
Areopagitic court against the encroachments of Pericles
and Ephialtes. Yet even had this secondary object
not existed, it was absolutely necessary that there
should be a piece written, which should contain the
fulfilment of the prophecies of Apollo, and show in
what way the curse was to be expiated.
Besides this, however, a deeper and _ allegorical
meaning seems to be intended here: we can easily
recognize, in the character of Pallas, personified Reason;
while the Furies may be considered as the passions of
the mind, acting in opposition to Apollo the young and
bright god, the fit image of the nobler and more re-
fined part of man. When Reason’s powerful coorera-
tion is added to the innate mind, so as to illuminate
every part of it, we see the man Orestes swayed by
its impulse, and freed for ever from the bonds of an
hereditary curse, namely the power of Passion, which
the unassisted strength of man fails to overcome. Of
course we must not p-zess this allegory; but what
has been said will suffice to show how much deeper
meaning is often conveyed in the poetry of Adschylus, -
than that which strikes us at the first perusal.
In pursuing the second object we have betore spoken
of, it must be evident, even to the most cursory reader,
what a powerful appeal to the feelings of an Athenian
206 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V1.
audience the representation of the Eumenides must
have been. Nurtured as they were in a deep venera-
tion for everything which bore the stamp of religion,
and peculiarly fitted by nature to appreciate and enjoy
the connection of religion and poetry, we can easily
conceive what effects the grand and solemn poetry of
‘ischylus must have caused. Yet whatever ebullition
the performance of the Oresteia may have occasioned,
its effects were certainly transient, and the Areopagus,
in the expressive words of Aristotle, was mutilated,
and many of its ancient rights curtailed and abolished,
Yet as a stage-oration it can hardly be surpassed ; and
indeed the only play we can put into competition with
it in this respect is the Knights of Aristophanes. It
must however be taken into consideration, that, in the
latter, the abuse of Cleon 1s the sole object ; whereas
fdschylus was obliged to incorporate his political
sentiments with a previously existing legend.
Our space forbids us to extend these remarks much
farther, nor indeed is it in any way necessary. Our
chief object has been to show that Aéschylus is some-
what more than he appears at first sight, and that
those who really have the courage to face boldly the
difficulties, arising from the corrupted state of our
present text, will be amply repaid for their labour.
One thing at least it is fair to demand from those who
condemn A‘schylus as a bombastic and obscure writer,
namely, whether they have done their best to under-
stand him. To few poets will the words of Pindar
better apply than to A’schylus—
ON THE ORESTEIA OF ASCHYLUS. 207
TONAG Lol UT aYKO-
-vos @KEa BEN
PwvavrTa ovvetota' és
dé TO Wav Epunvéwy
yar ier. Olymp. II. 149—154.
‘That he is guilty occasionally of bombast, we do not
pretend to deny; but the same charge may be advanced
against Pindar: yet he who should set down the glorious
odes of the poet of Thebes as turgid pedantry on such
grounds as these would assuredly do no honour to his
understanding. Yet we find Athenians of the next
generation to the heroes cf Marathon and Salamis
accusing him of the same fault,* and we can hardly
wonder if, at this remote period, he is too generally
undervalued.
D. S.
* Arist. Ran. 1056. -
LD. POP LLP PDP OLLI I DI
[Extract from a MS. entitled ‘The Loves of the Poets.’’]
THE IMPRISONMENT AND LAMENT OF
TASSO AT FERRARA.
XXXV.
"Twas where Ferrara’s moated dungeon frowned
In mute contempt of time, and long defied
The All-destroyer, while man’s works around
Yielded to him and fell
For hopeless freedom, yet his scornful pride
Disdained the suppliant’s prayer—’twas there, unknown
Save to the birds of night, that shrilly cried,
Responsive to his broken spirit’s moan,
Sate Italy’s loved bard, imprisoned, and alone.
a captive sighed
20 :
8 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
XXXVI.
fis was no common mind ; for kings had deigned
To hang enraptured o’er those soothing lays.
Hach passioned child of bright Italia, chained
In sweetest thraldom, yielded willing praise
To Tasso’s art. But what the minstrel stays f
Whom e’en Alfonso cherished, who ruled long
That steel-cold breast. Clear shone his earlier days,
Yet from Alfonso came the deed of wrong,
Came Tasso’s living death—poor meed of deathless song !
XXXVITI.
The moon was up: the maniac’s midnight screams
Disturbed the sweet oblivion of repose ;
For when, forgotten mid such witching dreams,
Lay dormant that great mind’s distempered throes,
Visions of joy to come before him rose :
His angel, smiling o’er her bard forlorn,
Illumed with love and hope a life of woes,
All-reckless of her father’s dastard scorn,
Grieving that him she left in dungeons vile to mourn.
XXXVITI.
Anon he woke: and all was dark again ;
Faded the thin-spun raptures of the night.
He woke, alive to quick-recurring pain,
To stern realities from deep delight,
From dreams of bliss, short dreams and falsely bright. _7
Then for himself he tried his healing art,
And swift as rose before his mind’s dim sight
Visions of woe, the lyre that bore a part
{n all his woes he tuned, and soothed his aching heart.
LAMENT OF TASSO. 209
Ne
"Twas not for me love’s tales to pour
Unbid in Leonora’s ear ;
Dared a poor bard so high to soar ?
Then wherefore le I prisoned here ?
My eyes grow dim; dim burn the fires
Of earthly hopes, and youth’s desires ;
Yet many many a lonesome year
I pme. Canst thou so listless know
In thy bright halls the poets woe ?
2.
My love—’twas but a fearful sense
Of beauty linked with noblest birth ;
Of the soul-piercing influence
Of one too fair, too proud for earth !
Yet who was I, thy pride to tame ?
Could I advance a lover’s claim?
My race may boast no equal worth—
My only dower—this muse of mine—
Not fairly matched ’gainst charms like thine!
3.
Farewell! Insatiate be thy rage !
Death comes—long-prayed he wings his way.
Foretold by a care-hastened age,
Uncheered by hope’s least, faintest ray.
Bethink thee—when thy bones shall rot,
(But for this deed thyself forgot,)
Touched by thy victims thrilling lay
Discerning Time shall bless the strain
That warbled to a King in vain!
C. B. B.
210 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
FALSH MODESTY AT ETON.
Nihilo sapientior ille,
Qui te deridet, caudam trahit. Hor. Sat, 11. it. 53.
I hope I do not exceed the bounds of liberty in
attacking a fault commonly found in Eton boys, which,
in addition to my own experience, I have had noticed
to me by others, who have at first sight detected it:
I mean that excessive dread of ridicule, which is so
painfully manifest in their conduct before their school-
fellows. I do not say that this is peculiar to Eton
boys, but it is certainly a strong feature in their
character. Moreover I do not deny that it has its
cause; for I have also noticed that they are particu-
larly fond of ridiculing one another. Whether there
may be any other additional reason, I know not; but
it is a plain fact, that each one has an instinctive
dread of the eyes of all being turned upon him, and
would like to slink mto any corner, to escape their
PAZ.
I cannot, I think, do better than notice a few in-
stances, in which this feeling often occurs. Some
boy’s parents come to see him at Eton: they come
from Slough perhaps in no very elegant vehicle ; they
find their son, say, in Chapel, but are told that he
will soon be out, and naturally wait, so as to have the
first opportunity of meeting him. Presently he comes
FALSE MODESTY AT BTON. 211
running out among his school-fellows, and is astounded
at the sight of his Father and Mother, whom perhaps
he fancied a long way off; and with the idea, that
all his companions will be looking at him, and talking
about what his Pater and Mater are like, (for Father
and Mother are names not recognized in the lower
part of the school,) he feels half inclined to cut them,
and does not greet them in the manner he would have
done anywhere else. Perhaps had they come in a
carriage and four, it would have been different : but
even then he would have felt somewhat uneasy. This
case certainly applies almost entirely to boys in the
lower parts of the school, but there are others equally
applicable to all.
Suppose a fellow be a minute or two late for
Church: rather than go in, whilst every one is
staring, and some are observing how he smokes, and
others thinking what a muff he is for being so late,
he stays out altogether, and incurs a long punish-
ment, all because he imagines everyone to be ridi-
culing him,—a thing which he can’t bear. What
makes the Sixth Form boy so nervous in speaking:
Why, he thinks, all these fellows, whose eyes are fixed
on me, are observing, either that I have got but poor
calves, or that I am not standing in the middle of the
room, or that I am trying to speak in a very fine tone
of voice, but that it is quite a failure. So he fancies ;
and would rather speak at Election before a number
of visitors, than commonly before the boys. Again, a
boy is asked a question in school; he knows the
answer well enough, but will not speak it out, for fear
212 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
of drawing attention to himself. These are all results,
trifling as they are, of the same feeling.
But, of course, there are cases in which this is a
much more serious matter ;—when a boy is driven out
of what is right by ridicule. We may, I hope, fairly
say, that this is a rare case; and that, when there is
no settled inclination to wrong, mere ridicule will
seldom effect that, which is contrary to a boy’s good
feeling. But we may say, I think with truth, that
the same feeling, particularly if it be ably attacked by
some boy who has a good deal of influence in the
school, sometimes stays boys of bad character, if not
from evil, at least from publicly displaying and boast-
ing of their wrong behaviour, and so misleading
others by it; for, as Horace aptly says,
Ridiculum acri
Fortius ac melius magnas plerumque secat res.
But itis worthy of observation how soon this feeling
wears away at the University. There a young man
begins to feel himself more independent of the mere
thoughtless opinion of his equals. He begins to
learn, that all that are around him do not care so
much about what he is employed in, as to be always
making remarks on him: yet even then, as many will
testify, if he visits Eton for a short time, he feels the
same undefinable dread, existing as it were in the
atmosphere of Eton alone.
That Eton boys are prone to ridicule not only their
companions, but anyone else who may come im their
way, I admit: but then what is the reason why they
FALSE MODESTY AT ETON. mo
feel this ridicule so acutely? Surely it is, that while
each one fancies himself deserving of it, which he
very probably may be to a certain extent, he does
not consider that those who laugh at him are equally
worthy of, and often equally meet with derision, just
as Horace says in the words with which I have
headed my paper,
Hoc te
Crede modo insanum, nihilo ut sapientior ille,
Qui te deridet, caudam trahat.
And I believe it to be a true conclusion, that we are
afraid of ridicule, because we do not fancy that our
derider has equally vulnerable points ; just as one boy
will not fight another, because he does not think his
blows will do as much injury as his adversary’s. If
then we only open our eyes, so as to see how those
who attack us are open to our retaliation, we shall
have something to help us to sustain our presence of
mind, when circumstances mark us out as objects for
ridicule.
Again then, in conclusion, I beg that my school-
fellows, (for so I hope I may still call them,) will
pardon me for attacking a fault, which they may not
have noticed in themselves, and one which I confess
to having laboured under myself, in no small degree.
And I hope, that they will consider me as much a
lover of Eton, as if I had praised all her customs, her
attractions, and her pleasures; inasmuch as it is dif-
ficult for one, who has tasted of the latter, to believe
that there are any of the former to require redress.
bP:
214: _ ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
MORNING HYMN.
1.
Surge ! anime, veternum
Mitte gravem, et diurnum
Incipe officium.
Sol jam ccelo matutinus
Knitet ; et vocat primus
Te ad sacrificium.
2.
Scelera preeteritorum
Juvenilium annorum
Decet reparare ;
Et, eras velut moriturus,
Luce ex hie abiturus,
Vitam agitare.
3.
Credita tibi talenta,
(Quse sint vite monumenta,
Redde meliora ;
Sitque cura, tum paratum
Esse, cttm te hine sublatum
Summa vocet hora.
4.
Sit culparum labe pura
Vitee via; sit secura
Omni innocentia :
Nit virtute confirmata,
Nullé nube adumbrata
Tua conscientia.
MORNING HYMN.
oD.
Nam quocunque pedes vertas,
Adest Deus; et incertas
Ipse pandet vias :
Mentis cogitationes
Bené seit: nee actiones
Aspernatur pias.
6.
Surge ! anime, catenas
Rumpe more, et serenas
Coeli pete sedes.
I! cum turba angelorum
Tolle vocem, Deo coram,
Inter sacras eedes.
He
Surge ! namque illic omnes
Noctis spatium insomnes
Vigilando terunt.
Laudes tibi, Sancte Pater,
Canunt ; et hinc per sacrata
Templa nomen ferunt.
Gre
FROM PINDAR.
"Axtis "AeXtou, KT. 2X.
O evershining Sun! O utmost bound
To my poor vision! Glorious eye of day!
Why hast thou shrunk from thine accustomed round,
Black’ning along thy path, and stol’n away,
Confounding Thought, and darkening Wisdom’s way ?
eo
Or
216 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
Say, bring’st thou not some dire vicissitude
Of ill? but, O, by highest Jove I pray,
Turn thy swift coursers to th’ unsullied good
Of Thebes, thou mighty pow’r! Nor shed my country’s blood.
But if thou bear some sign of threat’ning war,
Or mighty snow-storms, sweeping down amain,
Or blight of fruits, or faction’s civil jar,
Or deluge of great ocean o’er the plain,
Or earth-congealing frost, or floods of rain
In the dank spring, when angry torrents join ;
Yea, though thou whelm this world beneath the main,
And quite renew man’s foul uprooted line ;
So shall we suffer a//; then will not I repine.
THE USE OF THE DRAMA, AND ITS
PRESENT STATE.
Ir is a curious fact, that the French, who once
carried their hatred of theatres so far as to exclude
actors from Christian burial, are now so inordinately
fond of these exhibitions, that they cannot pass one
day in the week without a repetition of them.
Creatures of impulse as they are, can we wonder that
melancholy and low spirits, with their worst conse-
quences, follow this uninterrupted round of excite-
ment?
We are not of the number of those stern moralists
who decry all amusements of this sort, and would
persuade us that their tendency is vicious, as well as
uninstructive. Of all the inventions of genius that
have contributed to delight and edify mankind, to
PRESENT STATE OF THE DRAMA. 217
cheer, soften, and ennoble their nature, few have
more powers of doing so, and few have been more
universally encouraged by civilized nations, than the
drama.
To speak of our own individual feelings only—can
we imagine any delight greater than that with which
for the first time in our lives we witnessed a play ?
The immense house crowded with persons of all classes,
from royalty to the unwashed apprentices in the
gallery, forming in itself an interesting study for the
moralist— the splendid decorations—the brilliancy of
the lights —the magnificent dresses of the actors—the
intensity of interest with which the audience waited
the drawing up the curtain—the scenery which then
presented itself—woods, mountains, and lakes, in-
habited, it seemed to us, by a supernatural race of
beings, whose language is poetry, and whose every
thought and action is capable of arousing the most
powerful feelings of our nature, sorrow, astenishment,
joy ;—all these features, heightened by the addition
of enchanting music, naturally left a vivid impression
on our memory.
The older and more experienced part of the audi-
ence can find instruction in those tales which charmed
us. To become acquainted with the highest energies
of human passions, with the hidden traits of human
tempers and dispositions, illustrated in the most vivid
manner,—to imbibe lessons of virtue and morality,
made more uneffaceable from the memory by the
recital of some touching history,—these are the
S
218 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
advantages which a good play is calculated to pro-
duce.
Yet advantages which accrue to individuals from
the drama are small, compared with their influence
over the national character. The greatest geniuses
of all countries, whose writings will never be forgotten,
have been dramatists. In Athens’ brightest age, there
were no poets of distinction but those of this class.
Can we conceive a more magnificent sight than the
whole of Greece assembled to listen to, and crown an
A&schylus, a Sophocles, or an Euripides? Is anything
more calculated to refine and elevate the tone of a
nation, than such works, heightened by the charms
of music, and the magic of scenic illusions? No
branch of talent can surpass the English, French, or
Spanish drama, either in excellence or extent. Whose
writings are more admired than Shakspeare’s r
Such infinite variety of instruction does he afford,
and such ight does he throw both on our own cha-
racters and those of others. If he is not im all re-
spects accurate in his historical dramas, one who has
read them is much more likely to take up the study of
history, when he has seen it invested with the charms
of poetry, and some touching tale is founded upon it.
Then again, with what art does he contrive to re-
lieve the mind, and draw it away for a time from the
horrors of a tragedy, by some light and humorous
scene. Such well-sustained plots! such an amazing
variety of characters! such exquisite songs inter-
spersed over the scenes! last:y, such touches of the
PRESENT STATE OF THE DRAMA. 219
sublime in his speeches! Where shall we find his
equal ?
When Learning’s triumph o’er her barbarous foes
First reared the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose :
Hach change of many-coloured life he drew ;
Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new.
Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,
And panting time toiled after him in vain.
Tis powerful strokes presiding Truth impressed,
And unresisted Passion stormed the breast.
J OHNSON.—
Prologue spoken by Garrick at the opening of Drury Lane.
Let those who would close our theatres reflect
what a change was made in the character of the
people in Puritan times, by whom a fierce war was
proclaimed against all the decent ornaments of life,
and its rational gratifications. Are we surprised that
the people grew sour and morose, that their passions,
which could not find vent in innocent and intellectual
pleasures, were turned to deeds of blood; and that
the age was degenerating rapidly mto barbarism,
while the people were not a whit happier, or the
better for the change? Would any person, but a
Methodist or a madman, proscribe that which has
called forth the divine conceptions of Adschylus,
Sophocles, and Kuripides, of Shakspeare, Ben Jonson,
Massinger, Beaumont and Fletcher—of Racine, Cor-
neille and Moliére ? that has had their fine characters
gifted with life and energy by a Garrick, a Kemble,
a Siddons, and a Kean:
We may be told that theatres are calculated to do
220 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
harm as well as good—but so is the art of printing,
and many other inventions. God has set apart one
day in the week for Himself, and has allotted the other
six for purposes merely human. Moderate and timely
relaxation from the duties of life is a want inherent in
human nature: and if theatrical exhibitions rouse in
us a love for what is good, and a contempt for what
is mean, surely it is a much more profitable employ-
ment to witness them occasionally, than to spend the
evening in idle dissipation.
It is time now to ask—What effect have modern
theatricals on the minds of the people: We have
observed the injurious consequences of the frequency
of these spectacles on many of the French aristocracy.
We cannot but think that much more time and money
is spent on theatres in this country, than need be.
Hence those who visit them frequently contract a
kind of theatre-mania, and think and talk of nothing
else but the play they saw last night, or that which
they will see to-night. Hence some of our School-
fellows affect an intimate acquaintance with the
ereen-room; and when we return to Eton from the
holidays, we are pestered with details of the new
opera, or the new farce. He too is thought a very
superior being among his country school-fellows, who
can discuss acting and actors, and boast that he
knows Macready, and so forth. The greatest bore of
this genus is one who at all times, and on the most
trivial occasions, is ready to launch an appropriate
quotation from the new farce, at your head—delight-
ing in it more, if you be not one of the initiated; and
PRESENT STATE OF THE DRAMA. 29)
is always spouting some sublime nonsense in your
ears, when you want to do your verses. This may be
very absurd, but experience teaches us that it is so;
and we infer that our theatrical school-fellows are
merely the representatives of a class.
Impune ergd mihi recitaverit ille togatas,
Hic elegos? &c. &c.
We believe that in George the Third’s reign the
theatre was open just half as often as itis now, at all
events it was always closed on Saturdays ; because —
as we wish modern belles would consider—one who
has been absorbed in exciting and fatiguing amuse-
ment over-night, can hardly be fit for the quiet and
retirement of Sunday. All Lent, too, the theatres
were closed—and this at a time when the royal
family and the leading aristocracy frequented them—
when fashion, though not quite @ Paris, led the En-
glish by the nose almost as much as she does now.
Why have we accommodated ourselves to the habits
of our French neighbours in these respects ¢
Moreover, is it not a pity that the Italian Opera
should entirely have usurped the place of Shakspeare,
and—we hope Albert Smith is not one of our readers
—the legitimate drama: If, as the English flatter
themselves, Shakspeare is a popular author; if his
plays are as much studied, as each place where he
lived, which he visited or wrote about, is diligently
—_
* We learn from the newspapers that Mr. Macready has signified his inten-
tion of retiring from the stage at an early period, ‘‘not from old age or
infirmities, but from the deplorable state of the National Drama.
222 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
preserved, why is he all but excluded from the modern
theatres? How is it that no play of Shakspeare’s
can be tried on the stage, without being mutilated
and modernized, (1. e. made as unlike Shakspeare’s
nature as possible) by the managers, who must needs
foist in their own rubbish, in order, forsooth, that the
very tasteful audience may not damn it for barba-
rism? How is it, that when our country 1s so rich in
dramatic talent, our élite must betake themselves every
might to the Italian Operar Because it 1s more ex-
pensive? We think so. Applicable indeed is John-
son’s description of the declining stage, after the reign
of Charles II., when the first description of operas
was introduced !
‘«‘ Crushed by rules, and weakened as refihed,
For years the power of tragedy declined ;
From bard to bard the frigid caution crept,
Till Declamation roared while Passion slept.
Yet still did Virtue deign the stage to tread ;
Philosophy remained, though Nature fled ;
But forced at length her ancient reign to quit,
She saw great Faustus lay the ghost of wit ;
Exulting Folly hailed the joyful day,
And Pantomime and song confirmed her sway.”
Certainly these follies have the plea of antiquity on
their side; Horace complained in the same way of
the Roman aristocracy of his day ;
Equitis quoque jam migravit ab aure voluptas
Omnis ad incertos oculos ef gaudta vana.
x x * * *
Tanto cum strepitu ludi spectantur, et artes
Divitieque peregrine, Se. ¥e.
THE PRINCESS; A MEDLEY. 220
We do not wish to undervalue the opera, but we
put it to all sensible play-goers, whether it would not
shew better taste to encourage the drama of our own
country oftener ; whether they would not find it more
profitable, not to say more conducive to morality,
which is not much improved by the skilful evolutions
of modern danseuses.
Shakspearianus.
LOS
_—
THE PRINCESS; A MEDLEY: VY
By Aurrep Tennyson, London, 1847, 12mo. pp. 164.
—— —
In a former number we expressed a hope that
Tennyson would one day give to the world some
poem more worthy of his genius—some more sus-
tained effort, which might take a higher rank in
English literature, at least with regard to the im-
portance of its subject, than the collection of merely
fugitive pieces on which his reputation then rested.
His former poems gave indications of a colouring,
power, and a play of imagination, which had not yet
been fully tested ; and we were led to think, in com-
mon, we believe, with the majority of his readers,
that far more was to be expected from one who had
made so promising a beginning. Our anticipations
on that score have been realized by the appearance
of the work before us; in regard to which, we will
preface our observations by remarking, that if it does
not materially enhance the already high ‘reputation of
224, ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
its author as the first of our rising poets, it cannot
fail at least to sustain it, and to exhibit his powers in
a new light.
We shall begin by giving our readers an outline
of the story on which the poem is based, reserving
until afterwards the expression of our opinion as to
its merits. The subject is introduced in a Prologue,
which gives an account of a pic-nic at which the
author was present, while staying in the house of a
college friend, and which contains some quaint, yet
spirited and picturesque descriptions of scenery.
The character of Joan of Arc having come under
discussion during a walk, an assertion of the infe-
riority of the women of the nineteenth century by the
author’s friend, Walter Vivian, draws forth an indig-
nant reply from his sister Lila, in which she attri-
butes to convention the inferiority of her sex, and
exclaims in no very measured terms against the
ascendancy of Man. She concludes in the following
lines, which develope the leading idea of the poem—
a Female University.
‘O were I some great Princess, I would build
Far off from men a college of my own,
And I would teach them all things: you should see.’
We should see! The eccentric Mrs. Wollstonecraft
herself could not have clamoured more strenuously
for the rights of women than did this young lady.
In these days of Republicanism, when the powers
that be are not universally recognized as the powers
that ought to be;the lords of the creation had need
THE PRINCESS; A MEDLEY. 220
be on the look out against this threatened usurpation
of their just rights. Social revolution, rather than
political, is now the cry; and we can conceive none
more tremendous, than the remodelling of society by
female legislators.
Seriously, however, we think that the choice of a
subject of such paramount absurdity in itself is un-
favourable to the complete success of the poem; for
though the author has shewn much skill in contending
against this disadvantage, many of his faults are to
be attributed to it. Itis in vain that he assures us,
in the ‘‘ Conclusion,” that the whole affair is a bur-
lesque, a mock-heroic ;—the impression created by its
perusal is not to be effaced, and the reader finds
himself unable to believe that a poem, which has the
interest of a romance, and which the author appears
to have written from his heart, is after all a mere jew
d’ esprit. We ourselves were certainly both surprised
and disappointed at such an avowal.
The author complies with the request of his fair
entertainers, and speaks throughout in the character
of the hero, a Prince who has been betrothed to the
Princess from whom the story takesits name. When
the time appointed for their marriage has arrived,
ambassadors are sent to demand her in the usual
way ; they are informed that she “has a will of her
own,” and refuses to come. Having in vain solicited
leave of his parents to go in person and overcome her
resolution, the Prince steals away unperceived, with
two companions, to the court of the lady's father. He
now learns that she has resolved to devote her life
226 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
to the improvement of her sex, and is engaged in
founding a female university in a distant province.
By permission of her father, he visits this retreat, in
order if possible to cvercome her determination. The
gates of the forbidden precincts repel him by an in-
scription which, like that on Dante’s Hell-gate, might
have made him abandon all hope; being nothing less
than that the male sex are excluded on pain of death.
Love, however, knows no obstacles; and the Prince
and his companions enter, in female disguise. ‘Their
reception and subsequent adventures are then related,
and the place, its inhabitants, and the university, are
described with great minuteness. At length their
sex is accidentally discovered; but they are saved
from the vengeance of the incensed females by the
arrival of the Prince’s father with an army, demand-
ing their immediate restoration, and the fulfilment of
the marriage contract, and at the same time announc-
ing that he holds the king as a hostage for his son's
safety. The Prince and his companions accordingly
rejoin his father, and the captive king is set at liberty ;
but the rest of the demand is not so easily complied
with, as the Princess stubbornly refuses to fulfil her
promise, and declares her resolution to maintain a life
of celibacy. It is however agreed that the matter
shall be decided by arms; and accordingly the cause
of either party is committed to fifty chosen champions,
among whom the Prince and his two friends are
pitted against the three brothers of the recusant fair
one. The Prince falls, overpowered by the superior
strength of his antagonist, and, when restored to con-
THE PRINCESS; A MEDLEY. 227
sciousness, finds himself again in the palace from
which he had just been ignominiously expelled, and
tended by the lady whose obstinacy had caused all
the mischief, but whose heart is at length moved with
compassion for her lover. The happy result which
follows is indicated, rather than expressed.
Such are the simple incidents upon which the tale is
founded. A large portion of the work, however, 1s made
up of descriptions, in which the author particularly ex-
cels; and another large portion, of dialogue, in which
we fear he does not; at least, these parts of the poem
pleased us less than any others. Of Tennyson’s
descriptive powers, it is useless to speak; they are
too well known, and too highly appreciated by his
readers, to require further notice : in fact, they consti-
tute the great and peculiar charm of his poetry. If
we were required to point out the one principal attri-
bute of poetry that Tennyson possesses in the greatest
degree, we should say that it was his picturesqueness.
Everything that he describes is immediately pre-
sented to the eye of the reader; we cannot help
seeing the object, whatever it may be, so vivid is the
impression created by his pencil. This is not effected
by a lengthened and verbose minuteness of detail, or
by a profusion of descriptive epithets; a few slight
but happy touches, whereby the more prominent
features are developed, avoiding those which are less
characteristic, suffice to complete the picture. The
admirers of Tennyson will find him as vigorous and
life-like as ever in this peculiar branch of excellence ;
the altered character of his poetry in the present
228 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
work has not impaired his descriptive powers. We
cannot however award the same unqualified praise to
the speeches, which occupy, in our opinion, too large
a portion of the poem, without having that transcen-
dent merit, which alone could reconcile us to them.
Though occasional passages of great force and beauty
are interspersed, these are for the most part purpuret
pannt, in the midst of long-winded and tiresome dis-
cussions, often philosophical, and seldom rising above
the level of mere prose; the dreary waste of which
appears still more dreary, from its contrast with the
freshness and verdure of these Oases in the desert.
They are wanting in the dramatic effect which is in-
dispensable for their success ; and the author has not
made this fault less apparent by the obscurity and
affectation of language which pervades them. Neither
is he particularly happy in the coinage of words,
which we meet with abundantly in almost every page:
his long compounds have not the peculiar appropriate-
ness which would justify such innovations, but seldom
express what might not have been expressed as well
without them.
In versification the author has striven rather to
copy Milton in the variety of feet and redundant syl-
lables which he allows himself, than to follow the
regular standard of blank verse. In so doing, how-
ever, he has trespassed on dangerous vround, for the
imitation is so obvious, that it cannot fail to suggest
comparisons odious in the extreme. The result shows
the danger which our author has incurred: for Mil-
ton’s ear was so exquisite, that it enabled him safely
THE PRINCESS; A MEDLEY. 229
to make use of licenses from which other poets have
shrunk, and to produce verses that cannot but please,
though offending against the strict rules of prosody :
but ‘Tennyson, though he has doubtless succeeded in
relieving the monotony of blank verse, has too often
done so at the expense of harmony and smoothness.
This is partly owing to the contempt which he fre-
quently shows for the more mechanical resources of
poetry—for its extraneous ornaments, which he appa-
rently rejects as unworthy of himself. Melody of
diction and splendour of versification have not unaptly
been styled the “luxuries of poetry;’ but while to
constitute them its chief excellence would argue a mere-
tricious and perverted taste, they are not to he denied
their just importance, when coupled with poetical
ideas and right morality. Mr. Tennyson seems too
often to have adopted as a maxim, “ Take care of the
ideas, and the words will take care of themselves ;”
the result of which has been, that the former have
been more than half spoilt by the carelessness of the
language in which they are clothed.
We have been so far drawn into a digression on
the general merits and defects of Mr. ‘Tennyson’s
style, that our limited space renders it necessary for
us to postpone the conclusion of these remarks till our
next number—when we hope to acquit ourselves of a
taste far more pleasant to us and to our readers than
finding fault, that of pointing out the chief beauties of
the work before us, and its claims on the favour of
the public.
(To be continued.)
230 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE NO. V1.
SKETCHES AT ETON.
No. I. SMIRKALL.
Who is he that standeth yonder, not only “in fair
round belly with good capon lined,” but encased in a
goodly garment of broad-cloth, with a smirking smile
upon his lips, and a free-and-easy yet respectful de-
meanour towards every one, as at one time he presses
a new customer to partake of his delicacies, at another
confidently assures some youthful politician that min-
isters must go out, and anon pours into the greedy
ears of an eager knot of listeners his various news ;
how my Lord Goitfast, who has just arrived as a new
fellow, 1s the son of the Marquis of Spatterdash, that
he has brought an unheard of sum of money with
him, that he has unlimited “tick” at the various shops,
and that his great-grand-mother was Chief Lady of
the Robing Chamber to the Grand Duchess of Smell-
owisky ?
‘Tis “ Smirkall;” a mysterious personage, about
whom strange things are rumoured; his origin and
early history are, like those of many other celebrated
personages, enveloped in mystery; he is alternately
represented as the descendant of some time-honoured
race, who by a slippery trick of fortune have lost
their baronial halls, 2s some sleek friar, escaped
from monkish thraldom, and dark hints have been
SKETCHES AT ETON, Deal
thrown out, that he is an adept in cabalistic arts, a
being endowed with supernatural knowledge. Who-
ever he may really be, he is an object of great respect
among the new-comers, who consult him with a kind
of awe, and woe betide the unlucky wight, who by
word or deed has transgressed what Smirkall con-
siders the proper limits of good-breeding; ere the
day passes, the “heinous offence” is related with many
useful, though perhaps not very flattering, comments
to a large and highly-edified circle of lower boys, and
a nick-name, that has remained attached to any one
during his Eton career, has not unfrequently owed its
origin to the sarcastic wit of our Knight of the Sock-
Basket.
See, yonder he stands, apparently absorbed in ex-
-patiating on the merits of some rare delicacy with an
aristocratic name (for most of Smirkall’s good things
are called after the nobility of the land) to a little
customer, but all the while he is casting his keen
ferret-like eyes around, and, observing that “Mordaunt
min.” is walking with ‘‘ Trevor,” the Captain of the”
Boats, he assures some “ particular friend” the fol-
lowing day, that he thinks he could name the steerer
for this year’s Hight, and invariably replies. to the
incredulously uttered question “ who?” with, “ never
mind, Sir; we shall see, Sir; yes Sir.”
Would you know the history and lineage of any
boy in this great. school; would you know who is
likely to be the Newcastle Scholar ; the boy who will
get the highest score at Lord’s this year; the reason
why “so-and-so” is so popular, and “so-and-so” cut
232 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
by any particular set; in a word the why and the
wherefore of everything that happens in this little
world, go and ask Smirkall, and I will bet ten to
one that he furnishes you will all due particulars,
for he
“Is Sir Oracle, and when he opes his mouth,
Let no dog bark.”
W.
LOO LOLOL LOLO POPP LOLI LIP OL OL LLLP LOLOL LOI OI III LL
MIMNERMUS, IL.
I.
We, like the leaves in spring’s deep-blossomed hours,
What time the Sun renews his golden ray,
Like them, still toy with youth’s ambrosial flow’rs,
Ev'n for a span. Nor of the Gods can say
We owe them good or ill—But night and day
Black Fates stand by us. This doth give the bane
Of eld—that cuts the thread of Life away.
And shortly doth the pride of youth remain,
Ev’n as the Sun’s fair light, that stretcheth o’er the plain.
I.
But when this hour of prime is left behind,
Then is it better for a man to die—
Soon carking troubles eat away the mind.
One for his house and wasted goods will sigh,
Crushed by the weight of irksome poverty—
Another down unto the grave will go,
Weeping his dear lost progeny—or lie
Ling’ring beneath some fell disease’s blow—
There is no man on earth, who hath not many a woe
CATO. , 233
CATO.
Lucan, B. If. 380—392.
————
Such was his virtuous Life; such the ways of rough-hewn old
Cato ;
Studious the mean to observe; all his plans unbending to follow
Each to its own due end; to obey the dictates of Nature ;
And to shew forth by his deeds, by the loan of his life to his
country,
Not for himself that he lived, but for all earth’s infinite offspring.
Sure ’twas a feast in Ais eyes, but to quell the requirements of
hunger.
That for his palace he took, which, with roof well-thatched and
compacted,
Best kept off winter’s cold :—on his limbs, as princely apparel,
Donning a rough, coarse gown, such as wore the poorer Quirites.
Love’s sole end was a line of inflexibly virtuous offspring.
Father and husband of Rome! most rigid observer of justice !
Soul of strict honour too! Good and wise for the commonweal
only.
Ne’er did self-love play part, stealing into that patriot bosom,
E’en throughout one short scene in the acts of Cato the Upright!
C. B. B.
THE VOICE OF NATURE.
Through all the world unceasingly
There rings a silent voice,
And ever as it flies it says,
« Rejoice with me, rejoice !”’
T
204 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
Amid the softly sighing breeze,
Amid the tempest’s roar,
To heaven it loves in fitful strains
Its melody to pour.
"Tis heard when on the burning earth
The sun shines from the sky ;
‘Tis heard when through the quiet night
The moon rides silently.
From mossy bank, from shady brake,
From tree and bubbling spring,
[t rises on the wings of love
In gentle whispering.
And so though man unthankful proves,
Nor hymns his Maker’s praise,
Still ever grateful Nature loves
Her silent voice to raise.
G. O.
A WORD WITH OUR COMIC CORRE-
SPONDENTS.
_
It is a hard task setting sensibly to work to find
fault with what provokes us not—except to laughter.
It is hard to assume the frown, while the smile, spite
of our stern intentions, lingers about the corners of
our mouth. Hard or not, however, the task must be
accomplished ; we must hold our handkerchief before
before the latter organ, and proceed :—
Frown the first, then, will be directed against a
wretch who, under cover of an envelope and of the
OUR COMIC CORRESPONDENTS. 235
pen of a comic writer, (which style seems in these
days to be a sort of pass-word to any amount of >
scurrility) has ventured to address the Editor of the
ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, “ entirely the production,”
&c. (see title-page,) by the flattering appellation of
“ Driver of a certain Bus :” thereby implying a like-
ness to exist between the said enlightened publication,
and a vulgar, rattling, heterogeneous, four-wheeled,
three-lettered (for he uses the abbreviated form) two-
horsed conveyance. Does he intend the contributors
for horses then? If so, let the Editor harness him-
self on for a week or so, and, procuring a new lash for
his whip. see if this self-created horse cannot contri-
bute in some degree, by constant work and whipping,
to the wear and tear of the vehicle, of which his own
brain is the coach~maker. But we had better allow
our readers to form their own opinion of the atrocity
of this unprovoked attack, by laying before them the
weapon by which it was effected.
To the Editor of the ETON MAGAZINE.
Sir,
As I understand you to be the driver of a certain
“ Bus” called the “ Eron MAGAZINE, which went
confessedly rather slow on its last journey, chiefly I
presume through the driver not having put on any of
his own staunch horses to go up the hills (which it is
hoped will not happen again,) I send you an article,
which I hope, if it is booked, will not, at any rate, cause
it to travel heavier ; understanding that you are also
licensed to carry foreign contributions. As you must
236 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
be a far better judge than I, as to what weight of
luggage your conveyance will take safely and com-
fortably, I will say no more about it, except that,
although I hope it will not be easily smashed like
glass, it would be as well to prop it up tolerably, as it
may be a little top-heavy.
Understanding also that you like to know whose
Articles you are carrying, I have enclosed my name,
which I trust you will not m any case make public, as
the sort of vases you take charge of, being of a more
delicate workmanship than the common matter-of-
fact hardware of the present day, are apt to be too
roughly handled. Should you condescend to deliver
this parcel for me safely, | may perhaps be induced
. to intrust another to your careful convoy upon some
future opportunity.
Your Well-wisher,
C. W.
Our friend has omitted among the directions as to
the conveyance of his goods, the usual one of “ ‘To be
kept dry ;” perhaps he had discernment enough to
perceive that it was needless.
But the mention of the word brings to our mind
another letter, the exact reverse of dry, being evi-
dently addressed to the Hditor from one of the aquatic
fraternity ; mdeed the very ink runs with the damp-
ness communicated to the paper by the matter im-
pressed upon it. It runs thus—
Dear Sir,
I have ventured to write to ycu, as being the
stecrer of a certain crew entitled the ETonN MaGa-
OUR COMIC CORRESPONDENTS. Qat
ZINE, which by your own excellent coaching, and by
the assistance of a capital boat, and favourable stream,
has now acquired a tolerable pace and style, al-
though several crabs have been cut by various mem-
bers of it, and especially in your second time of
practising, which, owing to the absence of the stroke,
was decidedly a lame performance. If at any time
you should be in want of any one to take an oar, and
if you think I can keep stroke, pray put me some-
where in the bows, and I will not shuffle.
Yours, etc.
UTNPETNS.
P.S. Ido not mind which side I row.
We were extremely glad to receive this letter, mso-
much as it proved to us that the Aquatics are not so
utterly incapacitated for all literary pursuits as we
supposed they would be, in consequence of the late
prevailing epidemic, which has so disastrously at-
tacked them. In case any one should be so blind to
passing events, as to be ignorant of the disease to
which we have been alluding, we think it our duty to
make a sort of exposition of it. And why should not
the plague of Eton have its Thucydides, as well as
that of Athens r
Wise men have differed considerably as to the
origin of this disorder ; but, setting aside the rest, we
will confine ourselves to the two opinions which appear
to us the most plausible. The first is, then, that the
infection was caught from a swarm of flies, which
238 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. V1.
frequent the town of Windsor, and by which the
Aquatics were at one time very much taken; which
fancy led vice versa to their being very much taken
by the aquatics: but whether we are to understand
the word jes as sects, or vehicles, is another point
of dispute, into which we have no present intention
of entermg. ‘The second and more probable opinion,
according to some, is, that the pestilence arose from a
malaria left by the late floods; and this seems more
satisfactorily to account for the limited nature of the
malady, insomuch as it has only attacked those from
whose element it proceeded.
But whatever may be the causes, the effects are
almost too evident to require explanation, The dis-
ease in all cases made its chief seat in the coats of
its victims, which soon began to grow languid and
seedy under its influence. Nor could any other remedy
be found, except the extreme measure of amputating
the slow and diseased part; after which a rapid
recovery and a fresh gloss of health succeeded, the
whole being accomplished in the fastest manner pos-
sible. From the circumstance of the amputation,
those coats which passed the disorder are, we believe,
called ‘‘ cut-aways.”
Such then are the general facts relating to this
pest, which has had such a rapid effect in giving a
new turn to so many of the coats of this place. How
much further its ravages may extend, it is impossible
to say: but it is evident that it is not yet wholly ex-
terminated, and that its seeds are still lingering about
the angles of more than one coat in the School.
OUR COMIC CORRESPONDENTS. 239
But we have been acting a most rude part towards
our Comic friends, with whom we were supposed to
be talking, in cutting them thus; but as to cut them
up was our intention at any rate, perhaps they will be
not much vexed at the slight they have suffered. We
have nearly done with them nevertheless: we have
nailed up as much of the vermin, as we have caught,
against our literary barn, and we trust that what we
have effected in this way will prove as formidable a
warning as we intend it to be.
As we were knocking the last nail mto the victim
however, a thing was brought to us, for which vermin
would be almost too good a name,—a hideous abortion,
shaped, or rather mis-shaped, like a deformed epigram.
It is (as near as we can judge of its nature, through
the unnatural contortions which slang and vulgarity
have stamped upon every limb,) a translation of
Theocritus’ epitaph upon the poet Hipponax, with the
substitution of Shakspeare for the latter.
But we have not patience to say more about such
an object ; so hand up the hammer, and let us transfix
it ina conspicuous place among its companions, as
being the vilest of them all.
e \
O fovaoTolos, K. T. A.
«This is the tomb of Billy Shakspeare :
*« If you’re a bad’un approach not too near :
** But if youre a brick, with a trump of a father,
‘Don’t mind squatting down ; and sleep, if you’d rather.”
240 ETON SCHOOL MAGAZINE, NO. VI.
LADY OF THE LAKE. (Canto III. Stanza XV.)
CoRONACH.
‘He is gone on the mountain,’ &c.
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