• A bullock has a liver.
But I also have a liver.
Therefore, I am a bullock.'
Can anything be more ridiculous ? Gentlemen, I have no
patience wath a science or an art that can be thus prosti-
tuted to the indiscriminate defence, right and wrong, of
truth and falsehood.— With much less equanimity can I
look upon those men whose judgments are so shamefully
perverted, that they feel no shame in asserting that, for its
ingenuity at least, if for nothing else, the art is not to be
despised. — Ingenuity indeed! — Why, if logic be ingenious,
much more, then, are mathematics ingenious. Show me
the logician who, with all his boasted ingenuity, can prove
that ' one equals two.' — Now the mathematician can prove
it. / can prove it, gentlemen ; I tvill prove it.
" Let a=x, then aj::^x' ; now, take a" from each side
of the equation; then ax — d-:=x" — «-, that is, a (x — «) =
(x+a) (x — a); divide both sides by x — a, then a=x+a,
that is, o=2ff, (for a^x); and, therefore, 1=2. — Q.E.D.
" This, gentlemen, is no jeu d' esprit — no punning, quib-
bling proof, but a tnie, incontrovertible algebraical proof.
Admire, gentlemen, admire the glorious and omnipotent
science of Algebra, which can prove so much — which can
demonstrate, by the use of a few letters, that which the
uninitiated in its mysteries would pronounce to be impos-
sible. But I have not done yet. By the same science, I
can prove that ' nothing divided by nothing equal ttvo.'
2 ^
No one can dispute that "' ^ =a+x. This is quite clear
a — X
Now, assuming, as we did before, that u-:=x, and supposing
o
the value of o to 6 1, then it will follow that - =.2 a, and
therefore that -=2."
38 FACETIiE CANTABRIGIENSES.
This was too mucli, and I really felt myself called upon
to make some reply to the " iugenuitif and " excellence"
of a science, which w;is thought to he so much superior to
logic, hecausc the latter could he " prostituted to the incUs-
criminate defence of riglit and wrong." I internipted the
worthy Tutor, by remarking, that, as he had before proved
one to equal two, nothimj divided by notlihuj nuist, of
course, equal one. He hesitated for a few minutes, and
then rej)lied, " Sir, I like an inquiring spirit, but I must
not be interrupted in my lecture. For the present, how-
ever, let me observe, that you will have greater cause for
wonder yet: — we have a quantity, sir, in algebra, less than
nothhig."
I closed my book in consternation and despair.
And now, worthy reader, I wish to leave off for the pre-
sent, and yet I do not exactly know how to accomplish the
same without appearing somewhat abiiipt. I almost wish
that I had been confessing rapes, murders, treasons, and so
forth, that I might here " sink back exhausted at the bare
recollection of my crimes," after the laudable example of
the heroes of many tales of horror now extant. Tlien I
could perhaps persuade Mr. Ebony to suffer his compositor
to close with divers little asterisks, as is the custom with
the Minerva press authors. But unfortunately I have no
deeds of blood to atone for ; and I shall therefore conclude
with endeavouring to put my readers in good humour at
parting, by relating a favourite illustration of the doctrine
of I'atios, which our Tutor, who sometimes did the face-
tious, was in the habit of favouring us with. Talking of
ratios, he was accustomed to say, " Gentlemen, in finding
the ratio between any proposed quantities, it is absolutely
necessary that these quantities should be in some measure
related to, should have some affinity with, each other. For
instance, gentlemen, it would be ridiculous for any one to
FACETI^ CANTABRIGIENSES. 39
ask me how far it was from the foot of Westminster Bridge
to the first of April."
Au revoir, gentle reader, I really must conclude for the
present.
THE TRIPOS DAY.
Men may talk of hoiTors as they like. Virgil has painted
sti'ongly the hon-ors of a great city taken by storm ; and
De Segur has desci'ibed, as he beheld them, (and what
coloiu-ing could add to their intensity ?) the horrors of the
most disastrous retreat in the annals of mankind. But of
all the horrors I have experienced in a tolerable eventful
life, the most terrific were those of that eventful morning in
the January when I took my degree at Cambridge. When
I beheld the awfid Tripos-Papers affixed to the pillars of
the Senate-house. I have known something of the horrors
of a storm, as well as those of a harassed march ; but what
are these to the hoiTors of that eventful moment, which, in
the eyes of tlie first seat of learning in the known world, (as
my worthy ancient tutor used to call it,) is to stamp you a
man of talent, or a blockhead for ever. The soldier can but
lose his life, for it is impossible for any man who is fit to be
called a soldier to lose his honour. His life is the stake
which he daily plays for ; and as he is houi'ly seeing others
lose that stake, his mind accustoms itself to the idea that
his turn may come next. When his tiu-n comes, he dies
honoured and lamented, at least by his relatives, if he has
any, and his name having been creditably mentioned in the
Gazatte, soon sinks into respectable oblivion. But far
otherwise is it with the unhappy Cantab who has the mis-
fortune, on the morning of the awful Friday, to see his
name near the bottom, or even in the last half of the long
list of Granta's honours. The blighted hopes and the
batHed exertions of years— the early promise of better things
10 FACETIiE CANTABRIGIENSES.
— and the dawning fame of tlie University Calendar, rise in
terrible array before his saddened memory. Woe be imto
you, O Junior Optimes ! who shall comfort yon ? Bright
visions of military glory may dance before the glazing eye
of the expiring soldier, but no visions of future fame come
to console the last moments of the university life of the
hapless wight who is dubbed " Optmie," where he once
hoped to be able to write " Wrangler" after his name. He
is damned to everlasting fame in that imperishable record,
ill which he once fondly hoped to see liis name transmitted
with honour to latest posterity. It is, indeed, an awful
morning. The doors of the Senate-house, as every Cantab
knows, and as those who are not Cantabs may know if they
chose, are not thrown open till the moment when St. Mary's
clock begins to strike the hour of eight, but long before
tluit the street before the Senate-house is covered with a
capped and " toga'd" crowd of eager aspirants after fame,
and of, if possible, fidly more eager strugglers for life. For,
with perhaps the greater number, the question is not one of
honour but of life. Among these candidates for the goodly
degree of Bachelor of Arts, there generally reigns a profoimd
silence. All eyes are fixed with painful earnestness upon
the valves of that portal which is to be to them, on this
occasion, the gate of life or death. It may be, perhaps,
that some of tlie more hardy or reckless may attempt a
smile or a laugh ; but it is such a smile as I have seen a
poor devil put on when he felt the horrors of sea-sickness
enveloping his soul. Far more usual is it to see haggard
faces, and sunken and blood-shot eyes — for the preceding
night is often one of strange but acute suffering. I have
known men attempt in vain to drown in inebriety the
thought of to-morrow; it returned upon their stupified
minds with renewed and overpowering force, and wrang
from the eyes which had not wept for years, bitter and
FACETLE CANTABRIGIENSES. 41
piteous, yet ludicrous, tears in their maudlin sorrow. I
remember a friend of mine, who was not much given to
the melting mood, when sober, saying to me, " I never
passed such a night of misery as the last ; I got dmnk to
get over it the better, but by G — d, I cried like a child.''
When the clock strikes, and the doors are thrown open,
then comes the tug of strife. A tremendous rush is made
to the door, which carries every thing along with it, Mode-
rators, Proctors, and bull-dogs. Within, what a scene of
uproar and conftision.*
" Continuo auditae voces vagitus et ingens,
Tu.v TioXKuy que animae flentes in limine primo."
In the year in which I took my degree, being fatigued
with the labours of the week, I did not awaken on the Fri-
day morning till a few minutes before eight. I made all
possible haste to the scene of action ; and, although quite
cool when I left my rooms, I began to feel no small per-
turbation as I approached the Senate-house. There were
several stragglers about tlie door ; and on the very threshold
I encountered one of the Moderators. A man was putting
a question to him at the moment. I thought I might as
well ask him about my place also, particularly as I obsei-ved
tliat the pillars, on which were suspended the fateful tablets,
* We can bear testimony to the truth of the above description o{ our
favourite Mag: and remember a Sidney man, well known to all men of
his own standing by the tiom de guerre of " Brassy ,'' who stood
funking on the eventful morn, lest he should not be thought worthy to
be numbered with the '■Chosen Twelve" — " The Apostles" — as the last
dozen of the oi noXXoi are dubbed, on ascertaining that he had "saved
his bacon," rushing from the Senate-house, exclaiming, " Huzza,
d me, but I'll go and have a shave now ;" and in truth he wanted it,
for he had not had one during the whole week, and a stranger would
have supposed he had been sporting/u;- d la Russe, to protect him from the
intense cold, for it was during a Siberian January— but it was a funk-
atlon, and an operation in the then state of his nerves, would have been
more terrible in its consecpiences, than the effects of the whole dozen had
on Hodges. Vide Peter Pindar.
42 FACETLE CANTABRIGIENSES.
were at present utterly inaccessible. " Can you tell me where
I am, Sir ?" said I. " Your name, Sir, if you please ?" "
." " I can't tell your place exactly, Sir, but I'm afraid
you are rather low," said the Moderator, and I wdked
forward. There I beheld a scene of confusion and misery,
a region of rewards and punishments, compared to which
the hell of the ancient poets is a trifle. On the present
occasion, there seemed to be a general dissatisfaction in re-
gard to the rewards ;* indeed, the greater number seemed
to consider the rewards as punishments. There generally
is a considerable mmiber of disappointed men ; but on this
occasion, far, far the greater part belonged to that class.
Here and there, indeed, you might perceive a smiling and
joyous countenance. But, in general, those about me pre-
sented such a rueful character and imusual length of visage,
that even in the midst of my own individual misery, I could
not restrain my laughter. I have often wondered since at
the coolness with which I received the tidings that I had
fallen so far below the place affixed to me by my friends
and instnictors. I know not whether it arose from actual
indiffei'ence, which is hardly possible, or from a perversity
of disposition, which has often inclined me to laugh when
others were not meny. "My prospects in life are ruined,"
said one. " Who would have thought it ?" said another.
"It's a dam'd bore," cried a third. But what was the
misery of the generality when compared to the voiceless
woe — the imspeakable anguish of that devoted band — that
forlorn hope, in the University language, yclept, The
Spoon-bracket."
• We cannot miss the opportunity, now afforded us, of bearing testi-
mony to the justice which, at Cambridge, marks the distribution both
of College prizes and I'niversity honours; indeed, the long list of dis-
tinguished names which the degrees furnish, of men who have risen to
the highest stations, both civil and ecclesiastic, with only industry and
merit to recommend them, speaks volumes for Cambridge.
FACETIiE CANTABRIGIENSES. 43
" Quis talia pando
Temperet a lacryrnis ?"
I liad myself the distinguished honour to belong to this
gallant and far-famed band. Nay, more, I was the most
distinguished man in it.
" I twined with oak my laurel leaves."
I earned off the single diadem of the " Wooden Spoon."
Single as yet, though there have been rumours of late of their
making a second, third, &e. spoon. And tndy, the honour
is so great a one that it is almost too much for one man to
bear. It was, indeed, as Cromwell said of the victoiy at
Worcester, a crowning mercy. And here let no Wrangler
or lofty Optime turn up his nose at the mention of that
respectable and devoted body of men, the " Spoon-bracket"
— a body of men who nobly throw themselves into the
breach between their comi-ades and danger, for here, as in
a retreat, the rear is a post of honour. Moreover, I'eport
whispers, that of late years, there have been men in the
Spoon-bracket, aye, and even below it, who are likely
to make both a greater and more respectable noise in the
world than any scholastic Wrangler who ever wrangled
or wrote. For my own part, wooden-spoon as I was, non
collegisse pcenitef, althougli, after a lapse of years, I re-
joice that fortune drove me from the University, instead of
tempting me to trifle away my life there, on thg goodly
emoluments of a fellowship of thirty, or even of sixty
pounds a year. I have led on a forlorn hope of a different
kind since I obtained my wooden badge of honour, and
have entwined it witli a laurel that will endure as long,
perhaps, as my name shall be recorded, as the last of the
Uptimes. But to return to my narrative. — When I re-
turned to the solitude of my own rooms — when the bustle
and the sense of the ludicrous, which had directed my
44 FACETI.E CANTABniGIENSES.
mind, vanished — when the pride that had supported me in
the hour of trial, in some measure, deserted me, I was com-
pelled to own that my situation was truly horrible; and
that was indeed an hour of deep humiliation and bitter
disappointment. To have to send the news to your friends
— to be pestered with condolements, and dunned for ex-
planations — worst of all, to be looked down upon by those
you despise from your very soul — these are ills which at
least some of those who have gone before, as well as those
who have succeeded me in the distinguished career, must
have deeply felt. It is a trite remark, that evils never
come singly.
" Hie aliud majus miseria multaque tremendum
"Objicitur "
in the shape of a dun's knock at the door, which was im-
mediately succeeded by the apparition of the dun himself.
These worthy gentlemen keep a sharp eye on the Uni-
versity rolls of fame, and, like the good Samaritan, they
bestow their kind attentions upon those whom the rest of
the world desert in their afflictions. From my own expe-
rience, I assure the future heroes of the spoon, that however
they may be deserted by their other friends in the time of
need, they are sure of being visited by the duns. And
now let me not be thought to write either in sorrow or in
anger, but in entire good-lumiour. Whatever feelings of
vexation I may have had at the time, have long since been
dissipated into empty air. I always looked upon University
honours with the most profound indifference ; not, Heaven
knows, that my fortune was independent of them, but be-
cause I had always other aims in my reading than to cram
either mathematics or classics into the stiuplings of other
generations. I set to work and read mathematics with
some \ngom- for the last year I was at Cambridge. I read
on and understood, and remembered each succeeding part
FACETI^ CANTABRIGIENSES. 45
as long as it was necessary for what succeeded. But to
'â– ^ keep lip" constantly every paltry artifice which mathe-
maticians frequently make use of to obtain the desired
conclusion, was a task which my soul abhorred. After the
preliminary steps, I went over in this way, with delight
and admiration, the first book, or volume as it is called in
Cambridge, of the sublime Principia of Newton ; and this
was almost the only subject I knew pretty well at the degree
examination. I also read with pleasure a good deal of
French mathematics ; but by the time the examination
came on, they had almost entirely escaped my memoiy.
My idea was, that the mind was more benefited by a long
train of reasoning passing through, without having it
always before it, and retaining only the grand results to
which it led, than by being contented with keeping before
it a more circumscribed covu'se of reasoning, and less im-
portant results. The excellent scholar and sound mathe-
matician who was my private tutor in the long vacation
before I took my degree, not being fully aware of my habit
of reading, was so far deceived by the satisfactory manner
in which I read with him, as to say that I should be a good
wrangler. As I was, as far as regarded University honours
or emolument, a martyr to my opinion, I may perhaps be
excused the egotism of introducing it here. But, though
in my reading I thus lar followed my own devices, I am
far from thinking that I derived no benefit from my Uni-
versity career. On the contrary, I consider myself as
having derived from it benefits which I have felt hithei'to,
and shall feel to the last day of my existence — habits of
study and attention, and a liberal and independent style of
thought. I shall always look back to the years of my
residence there as among the happiest of my life, and with
a mixture of regret and pleasure to the college friends
among whom these years were spent, and many, many of
4& faceti.t: cantabrigienses.
whom I shall behold no more. With all thy faults, sweet
Graiita, I love thee still. And, indeed, with all her many
imperfections and abuses, she approaches, perhaps, as near
to perfection as it is jiossible for any human institution of •
the kind to do, and nearer than any has yet done. She is
worthy of the men who founded her, and almost worthy of
the great and free people in the midst of whom she now
flourishes — the great, and noble, and liberal, and enlightened
sanctuary of the wise and free.
UTOPIA.
A Satire, in imitation of a Mathematical Examination
Paper; said to he written hy a Gentleman of Sidney
Sussex College, a. d. 1816.
1.- — Find the actual value of 0, and from thence explain
the general expression of a man sending a circular letter
to his creditors.
2. — Construct a craniomcter on the principle of the hy-
drometer, pointing out the uses to which such an instnmient
will be applicable.
3. — An orifice is cut reaching from the surface to the
centre of the Earth; in what time will a cub of given mag-
nitude descend with the velocity in a chase of a given
number of miles ?
4.- — Find the periodic time of the honey-moon, and de-
termine, in general, when the horns are first apparent.
5. — The successive ascents of wind in the stomach are in
musical progression : required a proof.
6. — Where must an eye be placed to see distmctly the
books missing from the University Library, the fountain of
the Nile, and the author of these problems ?
7. — Given that a man can stand twenty-four hours on
-^ . . . r*"u. ' . . -â– ^v
FACETI.'E CANTABRIGIENSES. 47
two legs ; show that the same man can stand twelve hours
on one.
8. — Investigate an expression for the law of the centri-
fugal force of modern extempore discourses.
9. — To determine the least possible quantity of material
out of which the modern dress of a fashionable female can
be constnicted.
10. — Prove all the roots of radical reform to be either
irrational or impossible.
11. — Given the three sides of a steel triangle immersed
in sulphuric acid : required a solution of the triangle.
12. — Compare the eccentricities of Lord Stanhope, the
comet of 1811, and Sir Frederick Flood?
13. — Reconcile Hoyle and Euclid, the latter of whom
defines a point to be without magnitude, the fonner to
equal five.
14. — Sum your rental to N terms by the method of
increments, your debts ad infinitum by the differential
method.
15. — Find practically the nature and length of a lunar
caustic.
16. — Seven funipendulous bodies are susjiended from
different points in a common system at the Old Bailey : to
find the centre of oscillation.
17. — Required to express the function of a sinecure.
18. — To compare the dimensions of the base of the
Hottentot Venus, and that of the broad-bottomed admi-
nistration.
19. — The curve is an old woman bent double very nearly ;
determine the point of contrary flexuiT, and find, if pos-
sible, the latus rectum.
20. — Find the whole area of the wooden spoon, and
compare that of the //o/// Lund with the area of that part
of it generally called Clupham Common.
48 FACETIAE CANTABRIGIENSES.
21. — Investigate the magnifying power of the eye of the
Baron Munchausen, and show that any straight line placed
before it will form a conic section, no other than the com-
mon Itjiperbula.
22. — Construct a theorem, by the assistance of which the
periodic time of status puplllaris may be extended to any
number of terms.
23. — In the general equation (Algebra, Part Second),
show that the probable reason why Wood invariably uses p
and q, in preference to the other letters of the ulpJiahet,
may be deduced from the general expression, mind your
P's and Q's.
24. — Given a lierkshire pig, a Jolinian pig, and a pig of
lead ; to find their respective densities.
PORSON'S VISIT TO THE CONTINENT.
Soon after the late Professor Porson returned from a
visit to the Continent, at a party where he happened to be
present, a gentleman solicited a sketch of his joiu'ney.
Porson immediately gave the following extemporaneous
one: —
" I went to Frankfort and got di-unk
With that most learned professor, Bnmck ;
I went to Worts and got more drunken
With that more learned professor, Kulmken,"
THE COLLEGE BELL !
At a party of Grandees, where " a reason fair to fill the
glass again " Avas wanting, one of the Big-wigs proposed,
that each gentleman should toast his favourite Bel/c : and
when it came to the turn of Dr. Barrett (who happened to
be one of the Quorum) to be called on for the name of the
fair object of his admiration, he very facetiously gave —
"The College Bell!" f'icat Collegium Sancti Petri!
FACEUP CANTABRIGIENSES. 49
« I'M ASLEEP."
A Caiitab being out of ready cash, went in haste to a
fellow-student to borrow, who happened to be in bed at the
time. Shaking him, the Cantab demanded, — " Are you
asleep ?" " W/iy ?" says the student. "Because," replied
the other, " / wa7ii to borrow half-a-crotvn. " I7ien,"
answered the student, "I'm asleep."
JOHN BO-PEEP.
Tom Randolpli, who was then a student in Cambridge,
having stayed in London so long that lie might truly be said
to have had a. parley with his empty purse, was resolved to
see Ben Jonson with his associates, who, as he heard, at a
set time, kept a club together at the Devil Tavern, near
Temple Bar. Accordingly, he went thither at the specified
time ; but, being unknown to them, and wanting money,
which, to a spirit like Tom's, was the most daunting tiling
in the world, he peeped into the room where they were,
and was espied by Ben Jonson, who seeing him in a scho-
lar's thread-bare habit, cried out, " John Bo-peep come
in .'" which accordingly he did. They immediately began
to rhyme upon the meanness of his clothes, asking him if
he could not make a verse, and, Avithal, to call for his quart
of sack. Tliere being but four of them, he immediately
replied —
I John Bo-peep,
To you four sheep.
With each one his good fleece ;
If that you are willing,
To give me five shilling, —
'Tis fifteen pence a-piece.
" By J ," exclaimed Ben Jonson (his usual oath), " I
believe this is my son Randolph ; wliich being made known
50 FACETI^ CANTABRIGIENSES.
to them, he was kindly entertained in their company, and
Ben Jonson ever after called him his son.
" YOU'LL GET THERE BEFORE 1 CAN TELL
YOU."
Mr. Neville, formerly a fellow of Jesus College, was
greatly respected for his peaceable and inoffensive manners,
but distinguished by m<any innocent singularities, uncom-
mon shyness, and stannuering of speech. Dr. Caryl has
observed, " that when he used had words he could talk
fluently." A sudden addi-ess from a stranger would dis-
concert him beyond measure. In one of his solitary ram-
bles, a countryman met him, and inquired the road.
" Tu — u— rn," says Neville, " to — to— to — " and so on for
a minute or two ; at last he burst out, " Damn it, man !
you II get there before I can tell you .'"
CAMBRIDGE ETIQUETTE.