of the two men. Taylor was a litigious Tom Tusher. His private wealth and political connexions surrounded him with fat livings, pluralities, dignities, and power. He affected the hearty broad-shouldered squire with a touch of parson superadded, was diligent on the bench and liberal to charities; yet the farmers of Market Bosworth would throw away their milk rather than pay white tythe' to the non-resident rector. His pew at Ashburne, once the chantry of the Holy Cross, was hung with velvet used at George III's Coronation, the perquisite of his Westminster stall; in his mansion, where the chantrypriest had starved, Dr. Taylor was served, like a bishop, by a large grave butler in purple and a white wig. He had hopes of a deanery, and subscribed to the arming of volunteers against the invasion of the Young Chevalier. Johnson said: 'Sir, I love him; but I do not love him more; my regard for him does not increase. As it is said in the Apocrypha, "his talk is of bullocks." I do not suppose he is very fond of my company. His habits are by no means sufficiently clerical: this he knows that I see; and no man likes to live under the eye of perpetual disapprobation.' He wrote Taylor's most orthodox sermons (Conciones pro Taylore). However he said, 'Sir, he has a very strong understanding.' Johnson liked venison, and Reynolds suggested to Boswell that the explanation of his attentions to Taylor was that the latter, as Johnson told him, had made him his heir. This seems unlikely, both from Johnson's character and because Taylor was likely to outlive him. He read the service in the Abbey (unfeelingly, Malone and Steevens said) over Johnson's grave, dying himself early in 1788, aged seventyseven. Johnson clung wistfully to old intimacies. A little before his death he wrote to Taylor: 'Dear Sir,-What can be the reason that I hear nothing from you?... Do not omit giving me the comfort of knowing that after all my losses I have yet a friend left. I want every comfort. My life is very solitary and very cheerless.... O! my friend, the approach of death is very dreadful. It is vain to look round and round for that help which cannot be had. Yet we hope and hope, and fancy that he who has lived to-day may live to-morrow. But let us learn to derive our hope only from God. In the meantime let us be kind to one another. I have no friend now living, but you and Mr Hector, that was the friend of my youth. Do not neglect, dear sir, Yours affectionately Sam. Johnson.' This is not the letter of a legacy hunter. Dr. Taylor, who was twice married, left his estates to his shoeblack and page, William Brunt, to spite his relatives whom he overheard, when in a grave illness, discussing the distribution of his property. The boy, the son of a vendor of besoms, swooned at hearing the news. He was in truth descended from Dr. Taylor's grandfather, and took thenceforward the name of a common ancestor, Webster. The gold coin which had been placed round Johnson's neck by Queen Anne, when touched in childhood for the King's Evil, Taylor bequeathed to his patron and friend, the Duke of Devonshire. I am indebted for most of the foregoing note to the Rev. Francis Jourdain, M.A., Vicar of Ashburne and Rural Dean, a loyal member of the College.

FRESHMEN'S NIGHTS.

351

NOTE B.

FRESHMEN'S GAUDIES-GOING ROUND THE FIRE (see pp. 327, 334).

THE custom at Merton of singing hymns round the charcoal fire on holy days and vigils from Allhallowmas to the Purification is described by Wood, and also the initiation of freshmen on these occasions. At Exeter, Shaftesbury, while a senior in 1637, had a principal hand in putting down that ill custom of tucking freshmen.' These 'freshmen's gawdies' (vide supra, p. 280) were the same no doubt at Pembroke, and probably in the Broadgates times were connected with the All Saints' festival. Wood (Life and Times, i. 133, 138), says:—

'On the holydayes their nights and eves, at all these fires every night, which began to be made a little after five of the clock, the senior undergraduats would bring into the hall the juniors or freshmen between that time and six of the clock, and there make them sit downe on a forme in the middle of the hall, joyning to the declaiming desk; which done, every one in order was to speake some pretty apothegme, or make a jest or bull, or speake some eloquent nonsense, to make the company laugh. But if any of the freshmen came off dull, or not cleverly, some of the forward or pragmatical seniors would “tuck” them, that is, set the nail of their thumb to their chin, just under the lower lipp, and by help of their other fingers under the chin, they would give him a mark, which some times would produce blood.' At Shrove-tide 'the fire being made in the common hall before 5 of the clock at night, the fellowes would go to supper before six, and making an end sooner than at other times, they left the hall to the libertie of the undergraduats, but with an admonition from one of the fellowes that all things should be carried in good order. While they were at supper in the hall, the cook was making the lesser of the brass pots ful of cawdel at the freshmans' charge; which was brought up & set before the fire in the hall. Afterwards, every freshman, according to seniority, was to pluck off his gowne & band, and if possible to make himself look like a scoundrell. This done, they were conducted each after the other to the high table, and then made to stand on a forme placed thereon; from whence they were to speak their speech with an audible voice to the company: which if well done, the person that spoke it was to have a cup of cawdle and no salted drinke; if indifferently, some cawdle and some salted drink; but if dull, nothing was given to him but salted drink or salt put in college beere, with tucks to boot. Afterwards when they were to be admitted into the fraternity, the senior cook was to administer to them an oath over an old shoe, part of which runs thus"Item tu jurabis quod penniless bench non visitabis &c." the rest is forgotten, and none there are now remembers it. After which spoken with gravity, the Freshman kist the shoe, put on his gowne and band and took his place among the seniors. This was the way & custome that had been used in the college, time out of mind, to initiate the freshmen; but between that time & the restoration of K. Ch. 2 it was disused, and now such a thing is absolutely forgotten.' See also Life and Times, iv. 60.

CHAPTER XXVI.

WHITEFIELD.

ALMOST Contemporary at the College with the great high-church moralist of the fireside and the study was the reviver, or creator, in England of pietistic Calvinism, the most powerful pulpiteer of the last century. GEORGE WHITEFIELD, born in the Bell Inn at Gloucester Dec. 16, 1714, was taught Latin and Greek at the St. Marie de Crypt School, where at the annual visitations his eloquence already attracted attention. His father had died when George was a baby, and his mother was glad of his help in the inn. At length I put on my blue apron and snuffers and became professed and common drawer for nigh a year and a half.' One day an old schoolfellow, a Pembroke servitor, visited the 'Bell,' and related that he had not only discharged his College expenses for the term but had received a penny; at which the ale-wife cried out, 'That will do for my son. Will you go to Oxford, George?' 'With all my heart,' he replied. His schoolfellow's friends promised their interest to procure him a servitor's place at Pembroke. For a twelvemonth I went on in a round of duties receiving the sacrament monthly, fasting frequently, attending constantly on publick worship, and praying often more than twice a day in private. One of my brothers used to tell me he feared this would not last long, and that I should forget all when I came to Oxford. . . Being now eighteen years old, it was judged proper for me to go to the University. GOD had prepared my way. The friends before applied to recommended me to the master of Pembroke College. Another friend took up ten pounds upon bond, which I have since repaid, to defray the first expense of entering, and the master [Dr. Panting], contrary to all expectations, admitted me servitor immediately.'

Whitefield entered Pembroke a few months after Shenstone. He matriculated Nov. 7, 1732. Shenstone, however, as a gentleman

commoner, occupied a very different social position. In A Short Account of God's Dealings with the Reverend George Whitefield we read: Soon after my admission to Pembroke College I found my having been used to a publick-house was now of service to me. For many of the servitors being sick at my first coming up, by my diligent and ready attendance I ingratiated myself into the gentlemen's favour so far that many chose me to be their servitor.

'This much lessened my expence, and indeed God was so gracious, that with the profits of my place and some little presents made me by my kind tutor, for almost the first three years I did not put all my relations together to above 247. expence. And it has often grieved my soul to see so many young students spending their substance in extravagant living. . . I was quickly sollicited to joyn in their excess of riot with several who lay in the same room 1. God, in answer to prayers before put up, gave me grace to withstand them. And once in particular, it being cold, my limbs were so benummed by sitting alone in my study, because I would not go out amongst them, that I could scarce sleep all night. But I soon found the benefit of not yielding; for when they perceived they could not prevail they let me alone as a singular odd fellow.

All this while I was not fully satisfied of the sin of playing at cards and reading plays till God, upon a fast day, was pleased to convince me.

'Before I went to the University I met with Mr. Law's "Serious Call to a Devout Life," but had not then money to purchase it. Soon after my coming up to the University, seeing a small edition of it in a friend's hand, I soon procured it. God worked powerfully upon my soul, as He has since upon many others, by that and his other excellent treatise upon Christian Perfection. I now began to pray and sing psalms thrice every day, besides morning and evening, and to fast every Friday, and to receive the Sacrament at a parish church near our College, and at the Castle, where the despised Methodists used to receive once a month.

The young men so called were then much talked of at Oxford. . For about a twelvemonth my soul longed to be acquainted with some of them, and I was strongly pressed to follow their good example, when I saw them go through a ridiculing crowd to receive the Holy Eucharist at St. Mary's. At length, God was pleased to open a door.

1 The present sitting-rooms were then shared for sleeping, the present bed-room and servants' pantry forming the studies.

* Not, I think, St. Aldate's, used till this year as the College Chapel, but probably St. Ebbe's.

A a

It happened that a poor woman in one of the Workhouses had attempted to cut her throat, but was happily prevented. Upon hearing of this, and knowing that both the Mr. Wesleys were ready to every good work, I sent a poor aged apple-woman of our College to inform Mr. Charles Wesley of it, charging her not to discover who sent her. She went; but, contrary to my orders, told my name. He having heard of my coming to the Castle and a parish church Sacrament, and having met me frequently walking by myself, followed the woman when she was gone away, and sent an invitation to me by her to come to breakfast with him the next morning. I thankfully embraced the opportunity.'

Charles Wesley lent him books, which convinced him that 'true religion is a union of the soul with God.' From time to time Mr. Wesley permitted me to come unto him and instructed me as I was able to bear it. By degrees he introduced me to the rest of his Christian brethren. . . I now began, like them, to live by rule, and to pick up the very fragments of my time that not a moment of it might be lost. Whenever I ate or drank or whatsoever I did I endeavoured to do all to the glory of God. Like them, having no weekly sacrament (although the rubrick required it), at our own college, I received every Sunday at Christ Church. I joined with them in keeping the stations by fasting Wednesdays and Fridays, and left no means unused which I thought would lead me nearer to Jesus Christ.

'Regular retirement, morning and evening, at first I found some difficulty in submitting to; but it soon grew profitable and delightful. As I grew ripe for such exercises I was from time to time engaged to visit the sick and the prisoners and to read to poor people, till I made it a custom, as most of us did, to spend an hour every day in doing works of charity.

'The course of my studies I soon intirely changed. Whereas before I was busied in studying the dry sciences, and books that went no farther than the surface, I now resolved to read only such as entered into the heart of religion.'

He mentions several short fits of illness, in which he is much cheered by the society of his new friends, with whom he spent many sweet and delightful hours. Never did persons, I believe, strive more earnestly to enter in at the strait gate. They kept their bodies under even to an extreme. They were dead to the world, and were willing to be accounted as the dung and offscouring of all things, so that they might win Christ.'

Some fell away under the displeasure of a tutor or head of a College,