divisions, the Trinity men led by L-, a short stout Cornishman, being the first; the Johnian's by P-, a tall fiery Welshman from Caernarvonshire, the second; and the men from the minor Colleges formed the third division, led by F—, a muscular Yorkshireman, belonging to Magdalen College. Each division mustered about three hundred men. The Market Hill, where the meeting was held, is a large open space of ground, capable of containing without much pressure four or five thousand persons. The hustings were erected at the northern extremity, and the Radicals occupied the immediate front, to the number of at least 1,600. A narrow street debouches on the Market Hill, to the right of the hustings. In this street I posted the Johnians, the head of the column approaching very near the hustings itself. Another narrow street runs at right angles to that which the Johnians occupied, but so retired as not to be visible from the Market Hill. In this street I posted F-, and the minor College division. The Trinity men were posted on the right of the head of the Johnians' column, on the western side of the Market Hill itself. My plan as drawn up, and issued in a kind of general order, was for the Johnian division when assailed, to feign a retreat, and draw their antagonist into the centre of the narrow defile they themselves occupied. The minor college division were then to issue from their ambuscade, and attack the assailants in flank, and having pierced it, were to face about, and cut off the head of their column. The Johnians were then to make a stand, and the enemy so cut off, double on their leaders, who were to be soundly battered without mercy. The Trinity men in the mean time, were to occupy that end of the defile nearest the Hustings, and prevent the Snobs from sending any assistance to their beleaguered comrades. 1 Every thing happened as I expected, the attack was made on the Johnians, they fell back in apparent confusion, eagerly followed by their incautious adversaries. At this moment, F—, at the head of his division, fell suddenly with loud shouts on the flank of the Snobs. In a moment it was pierced through, and all the leaders caught in a cul-de-sac. The contest was maintained by the Snobs with all the energy of despair. I was personally encountered by L-, the prize fighter, whom, however, I compelled to lick the dust. At length, however, by a desperate charge, they broke through our serried ranks, and fled in all directions pursued by P, and his victorious Johnians. As leader, however, I returned to the fight, which still raged at the mouth of the defile, debouching on the west of the hustings, and which L, and his Trinity division occupied, at the moment the attack was made on the enemy's flank. The arrival, however, of myself with the minor college division, soon decided the combat, the snobs fled in every direction, the orators retired from the Hustings in confusion and dismay, and three loud and continued cheers, announced our complete victory. At this moment, however, intelligence arrived that the enemy had rallied on Magdalen Bridge, and that P- and his Johnians were hard beset. We again hastened head-long to the encounter. We found the snobs in position on the Bridge, led on by a gigantic Bargee. He had already made P- bite the dust, and had made a desperate irruption into the very centre of the Johnians. Like the terrible British column at Fontenoy, he bore down every thing before him. F— tried in vain to stop his triumphant career, the minor college division was shivered to atoms. I saw that all was lost, unless this terrible Agamemnon could be arrested in his bloody stained career. I threw myself in his way but was overturned in the melee. A desperate conflict took place over my prostrate body, during which I regained my legs. I again confronted the gory giant, and this time with more success. I broke through his guard, and knocked him down like a sack of wheat with a loud squelch. Our three divisions now again united, charged with loud shouts, the enemy could not withstand the impetuous attack, they were routed; the formidable Castle Hill afforded them no security, we rushed up the precipitous declivity with head-long valour, and the enemy were driven from every position with prodigious slaughter-of hats and noses. After this final victory we formed a procession and paraded through the town, sung "God save the King" on the Market Hill, and then retired peacefully to our respective colleges. Unfortunately the end of the Bard's Cambridge career was not especially brilliant. But he shall tell it in his own words: In 1825 I took my B.A. degree. For some time previous to VOL. XVII. SSS my final examination I had been unable to read through illness, brought on by intense application. My funds would not allow me to degrade, so I was obliged to take my chance with my compeers. I had been what is called a reading man, and pretty fairly mastered Optics, Hydrostatics, Mechanics, Trigonometry, Euclid, Astronomy, and a large portion of Newton's Principia. I was, however, totally ignorant of Algebra, the Differential Calculus, and in short of the whole system of French Mathematics. I was fond of reading every thing which could be applied to elucidate natural phenomena; and I loved the geometrical method, because it has a direct tendency to improve the reasoning powers. I believe I wrote out correctly every thing that was set before me, in the subjects I have just enumerated as having mastered. But, in consequence of my recent illness, I was wretchedly low and nervous. I thought I had done much worse than I had done, and I very foolishly gulfed.* I have since been told I should have been in a good situation on the Tripos. I have ever blamed myself for thus throwing away all the fruits of three years' intense study; and even now, when I think of it, it almost maddens me. I had now no other alternative than to take a curacy, and my kind friend, the Rev Ralph Tatham, generously undertook to look about for one for me. I ought to mention that there is an annual prize given at Cambridge, for the best English Poem, on a given subject. One of the subjects given out, in my time, was "Australia." I contended for it, but the prize was awarded to Praed, who was one of my cotemporaries. I have printed a part of this poem in a succeeding chapter. Having taken my B.A. degree, my studies were completed at Cambridge. In judging of my success or failure, I hope the reader will call to mind the great disadvantages under which I laboured. Let him imagine a raw country lad, taken from the plough, Latinless, Greekless, and with no more knowledge of mathematics than a sledge-hammer. Let him imagine such a personage contending with the most accomplished of Eton, Author's Note. "A student who has read for honours at Cambridge, if through illness or any other cause, he thinks that he shall be lower on the Tripos than he expected, is allowed to take his degree, his name not appearing on the Tripos." Shrewsbury, or Rugby scholars. Let him imagine him successfully contending, till his physical powers gave way before the accumulated difficulties in his path. Let him imagine all this, and then, and not till then, pronounce his award. I cannot conclude this chapter without expressing how grateful I felt, and still feel, for the kindness shewn to me by my College, particularly by the Rev Ralph Tatham. To that kind and good man I feel a debt of gratitude I can never repay. I have, since then, experienced his kindness in my days of adversity. He is more than repaid by the silent applause of his own benevolent heart. In October 1825, Wickenden was ordained to the curacy of Mudford, Somersetshire. Here he remained till 1831, when a tragic turn occurred in his fortunes. He wished to marry a young woman who had been in his Sunday School and was then his housekeeper. His brother clergy rose up against him, according to his account, and the Bishop told him, if he married, he must leave his curacy. At the eleventh hour, under the fear of poverty, he abandoned his marriage, and apparently brought on himself a further ostracism, which led to his leaving Mudford. Bishop Monk, of Gloucester and Bristol, befriended him and gave him other curacies, but owing to loss of voice he had to throw them up, and apparently lived afterwards as he could by his pen. Apparently after the Remarkable Passages Wickenden published Adventures in Circassia, The Hunchback's Chest (1852), Reginald, illustrating the times of Queen Elizabeth, Felix Gilray illustrating the times of Queen Victoria. The last, which is in the University Library, is dated 1854. The clergy list contains the name 'William Wickenden, B.A.,' (without giving a cure), till 1867. In 1868 it disappears. So probably he died in the former year. G. C. M. S. GALLUS. How Gallus edited the Magazine. First, as when down a river, from the hills Lay heaped the sweepings of a hundred brains, Dry scraps from antique dons, and fresh green rhymes Then Gallus girt himself a second time, Out-patients thronged the floor for yards around. And in the forefront of them all he set The heavier-arm'd Scots Guards, whose wondrous notes Told of enlistment in the Treasury. |