Part 46 (2/2)

Then the Deans come into the ante-chamber to see if the men of their respective Colleges are duly present, properly dressed, and have faithfully paid the fees. Then, when the Deans, having satisfactorily ascertained these facts, have gone back again into the Convocation House, the Yeoman Bedel rushes forth with his silver ”poker,” and summons all the Bachelors, in a very precipitate and far from impressive manner, with ”Now, then, gentlemen! please all of you to come in! you're wanted!” Then the Bachelors enter the Convocation House in a troop, and stand in the area, in front of the Vice-Chancellor and the two Proctors. Then are these young men duly quizzed by the strangers present, especially by the young ladies, who, besides noticing their own friends, amuse themselves by picking out such as they suppose to have been reading men, fast men, or slow men - taking the face as the index of the mind. We may be sure that there is a young married lady present who does not indulge in futile speculations of this sort, but fixes her whole attention on the figure of Mr. Verdant Green.

Then the Bedel comes with a pile of Testaments, and gives one to each man; Dr. Bliss, the Registrar of the University, administers to them the oath, and they kiss the book. Then the Deans present them to the Vice-Chancellor in a short Latin form; and then the Vice-Chancellor, standing up uncovered, with the Proctors standing on either side, addresses them in these words: ”Domini, ego admitto vos ad lectionem cujuslibet libri Logices Aristotelis; et insuper earum Artium, quas et quatenus per Statuta audivisse tenemini; insuper autoritate mea et totius universitatis, do vobis potestatem intrandi

--- [* The derivation of this word has already been given. See Part I, p. 46.]

+ ~i.e.~, Filius Generosi - the son of a gentleman of independent means.

++ See note, Part I, p. 114.

[316 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

scholas, legendi, disputandi, et reliqua omnia faciendi, quae ad gradum Baccalaurei in Artibus spectant.”

When the Vice-Chancellor has spoken these remarkable words which, after three years of university reading and expense, grant so much that has not been asked or wished for, the newly-made Bachelors rush out of the Convocation House in wild confusion, and stand on one side to allow the Vice-Chancellarian procession to pa.s.s. Then, on emerging from the Pig-market, they hear St. Mary's bells, which sound to them sweeter than ever. <vg316.jpg>

Mrs. Verdant Green is especially delighted with her husband's voluminous bachelor's gown and white-furred hood (articles which Mr.

Robert Filcher, when helping to put them on his master in the ante-chamber, had declared to be ”the most becomingest things as was ever wore on a gentleman's shoulders”), and forthwith carries him off to be photographed while the gloss of his new glory is yet upon him.

Of course, Mr. Verdant Green and all the new Bachelors are most profusely ”capped;” and, of course, all this servile homage - although appreciated at its full worth, and repaid by s.h.i.+llings and quarts of b.u.t.tery beer - of course it is most grateful to the feelings, and is as delightfully intoxicating to the imagination as any incense of flattery can be.

What a pride does Mr. Verdant Green feel as he takes his bride through the streets of his beautiful Oxford! how complacently he conducts her to lunch at the confectioner's who had supplied ~their~ wedding-cake! how he escorts her (under the pretence of making purchases) to every shop at which he has

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 317]

dealt, that he may gratify his innocent vanity in showing off his charming bride! how boldly he catches at the merest college acquaintance, solely that he may have the proud pleasure of introducing ”My wife!”

But what said Mrs. Tester, the bed-maker? ”Law bless you, sir!” said that estimable lady, dabbing her curtseys where there were stops, like the beats of a conductor's ~baton~ - ”Law bless you, sir! I've bin a wife meself, sir. And I knows your feelings.”

And what said Mr. Robert Filcher? ”Mr. Verdant Green,” said he, ”I'm sorry as how you've done with Oxford, sir, and that we're agoing to lose you. And this I ~will~ say, sir! if ever there was a gentleman I were sorry to part with, it's you, sir. But I hopes, sir, that you've got a wife as'll be a good wife to you, sir; and make you ten times happier than you've been in Oxford, sir!”

And so say we.

THE END.

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