No. Page six-bottle men. 177 216 178 220 179 221 181 225 Hobies-boots; Hoby was an eminent bootmaker who started business in St. James's Street in 1778, was reputed an eccentric, and died worth £120,000. His leisure hours were spent in preaching, which explains a remark of his reported by Gronow— "If Lord Wellington had had any other bootmaker than myself, he never would have had his great and constant successes; for my boots and prayers bring his lordship out of all his difficulties.” His name survives in the firm of Messrs. Hoby and Gullick of 24, Pall Mall. "To judge by what is still in hand, at least a hundred loads," descent from the Pilgrim Fathers is in the States equivalent to having ancestors who came over with William the Conqueror, and the Mayflower furniture, to be found in curiosity shops, is a standing joke. One of the American comic papers lately had a picture representing a Mayflower of huge dimensions, vomiting forth an unending stream of Pilgrim Fathers, each staggering under a load of household possessions. From The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table. A translation of a very popular German song, "Grad' aus dem Wirthshaus nun komm' ich heraus." The author was Prussian Minister of Public Worship-no less! Brough's rendering appeared in the first volume (1856) of a shortlived magazine, The Train, under the title of "John of Gaunt Sings from the German." A masterly translation of Heine's "Glücklich der Mann, der den Hafen erreicht hat," one of the group of poems entitled "Die Nordsee." The translator appends the following note : "In the Rathskeller-Council-Cellar or Town-Hall Cellar-of Bremen, there is kept a celebrated tun, called 'The Rose,' containing wine three hundred years old. No. Page 182 227 184 231 186 232 Around it are the 'Twelve Apostles,' or hogsheads filled with wine of a lesser age. When a bottle is drawn from the Rose, it is supplied from one of the Apostles; and by this arrangement the contents of the Rose are kept up to the requisite standard of antiquity. Those who are familiar with the writings of Hauff will remember the exquisite and genial sketch entitled 'A Fantasy in the Rathskeller of Bremen.' The text used is that of the first edition. This gracious valedictory, worthy to stand beside Landor's "I strove with none," forms the prologue to the volume entitled Poems and Translations, 1889. No. 185 comes from the same source. Hodgson-the allusion is to Bon Gaultier's "Jupiter and the Indian Ale"; Jove, weary of 'clammy nectar," orders Bacchus to invent a new drink 66 "Terror shook the limbs of Bacchus, Paly grew his pimpled nose, And already in his rearward Felt he Jove's tremendous toes; When a bright idea struck him 'Dash my thyrsus! I'll be bail For you never were in India That you know not HODGSON'S ALE.'" "The Prima Donna, smiling herself out, Recruits her flagging powers with bottled stout." Bunn tells of how Malibran insisted on a supply of stout during the performance of The Maid of Artois "I therefore arranged that behind the pillar of drifted sand, on which she falls in a state of exhaustion towards the close of the desert scene, a small aperture should be made in the stage. Through that aperture a pewter pint of porter was conveyed to the parched lips of this rare child of song, which so revived her after the terrible exertions the scene led to, that she electrified the audience." No. Page 188 239 191 244 197 252 198 253 Mrs. Siddons was another believer in porter, and a professional lady of my acquaintance, experienced in melodrama, assures me that stout is the thing for a hapless heroine to shriek on. It was the custom at Brasenose College till 1889 to have a banquet on Shrove Tuesday, when the butler presented a bowl of ale to the company and recited a poem composed for the occasion every year by one of the members. Collections of these Brasenose poems were published in 1857 and 1878, the latter containing sixty-seven poems by various authors, including Bishop Heber. Prior's liquor-John Prior, sen., was for long the butler, and the ale poems abound in references to him; Cain and Abel-the statue of Cain and Abel, attributed to Giovanni da Bologna, vanished from Brasenose quadrangle in 1881, and was afterwards destroyed. Originally planted there in 1727 by Dr. George Clarke, it took the place of a maze, much to the disgust of Hearne, who could not bear the "silly statue." "Occasionally," says Mr. Buchan, the historian of Brasenose, both figures would be habited in odd raiment and coloured red by sportive gentlemen of the College." 66 Squarcialupu's song in Palicio, Act iii. Sc. 2. This appeared for the first time in The Book of the Horace Club. Oxford. 1901. From Ballads (Elkin Matthews, 1903); Captain Stratton, Mr. Masefield tells me, was an old pirate who practised his profession off the coast of Chili. INDEX OF FIRST LINES A bumper of good liquor A jolly fat friar loved liquor good store Ah Ben! Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears Bacchus must now his power resign Back and side go bare, go bare Be your liquor small, or as thick as mud Blythe, blythe, and merry was she Brothers, spare awhile your liquor, lay your final Bring us in no brown bread, for that is made of bran. tumbler down Busy, curious, thirsty fly By the gaily circling glass Calling for beer! know not the gods they ought Christmas is here Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain Come, cheer up your hearts, and call for your quarts Come! fill a fresh bumper, for why should we go Come, jolly god Bacchus, and open thy store Come, landlord, fill a flowing bowl, until it does run over 207 21 63 220 128 55555 59 Come to my arms, my treasure Come, toom the stoup! let the merry sunshine Darkness and stars i' the mid-day! they invite 138 190 244 73 170 Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale 130 17 180 Drink to-day, and drown all sorrow 27 Enter you that rave with madness 62 Fill me a mighty bowl Faces prim and starched and yellow Farewell, thou thing time past so known, so dear Fill, fill the goblet full with sack Fill me a bowl of sack with roses crown'd Fill the bowl with rosy wine Fill the goblet again! for I never before Four drunken maidens came from the Isle of Wight 249 71 256 57 34 66 92 174 126 8 Give me but a friend and a glass, boys Have you any work for the tinker, brisk maids 23 |