Punch: Punch (70.1876)

244 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [June 17, 1876.

OUR REPRESENTATIVE AT CAMBRIDGE

Visits the ancient University on the very imporfant occasion of
conferring a Musical Doctor's degree on an eminent Composer,
and reports.

[IE,

As a son of the
soil—as, I mean,
a Member of the
ancient University
of Cambridge, both
of ns, of course,
couldn't be absent
on the recent most
interesting occa-
sion of conferring
degrees. If you,
Sir, couldn't go,
I was sure to be at
my post. To the
Oam ! Cam away!

It had been all
arranged pre-
viously. My influence with the dear virtuous old Vice did it. By
" old Vice," of course, I mean my good old friend, the Vice-Chan-
cellor, bless him!

" Don't mind me" I wrote to him, in answer to a question of im-
portance, "I'll come in for anything or nothing. But give Mr.
Arthur Sullivan a Doctor's degree. What have vou got to spare ?
A second-hand gown, and a Hat muffin cap will do the trick, and
three-and-sixpence for the loan of them for the first hour, and half-
a-crown afterwards will meet the requirements of the University
Chest, and my illustrious friend can stand it. He's the man in all
England to be a Musical Doctor. Do it, dear Vice, do it, and shed
a lustre on your term of office."

From the Vice to your Representative.
" Good. Senatus omnis Hi. Fees no object. What will you
take, eh ? Yours, V. C."

From the Former [Me), to the Latter (Him).
" Cher, V. C, _

" As I said, 'don't mind me.' But since you do ask me
what I '11 take, I reply, I '11 take a ' D.C.L.' or ' L.L.' (Keshan's),
with a taste of water, cold. No sugar—though, perhaps, entre nous,
mild Scotch is safer. If you want me to take anything else—well—
I '11 take my oath, if you like, just to show there's no ill feel-
ing between myself and the University Authorities, in the Senate
House, coram popxdo, as we call the residents in Coram Street.

Yours ever.

P.S.—Have the flags out, and the band. The Composer will arrive
in my care. Sound the trumpets in Trumpington. Beat the drums,
and jingle the College quadrangles. Sir, it's a great day for
Cambridge."

Once more the Vice (Dr. Phear) wrote " Good. Mind you come?"1
To which I wittily replied, " No Phear,—I HI be there."

Well, Sir, it was a magnificent spectacle. We alighted and pro-
ceeded^ amid a perfect ovation, ("ovation" is of Latin derivation,
and in its origin has something to do with eggs—so to give a person
an ovation means " to salute him with eggs ")—to get into our ny as
quickly as possible, pull up the blinds, and tell the man to drive, like
beans—or " old boots," whichever he liked—by the back way into
Trinity. It turned out subsequently—and all's well that ends well
—that we had been mistaken for some one who had recently done
something very unpopular, and who was consequently execrated—or
I should say er/^secrated by the Undergraduates.

But no matter. The Composer in the fly (which was a trifle damp
and smelt of hay), looked ruefully at me and said, " What shall I do
with these fireworks ? " for he was carrying a packet with Catherine
Wheels, and mottoes and inscriptions of "Long Life to Sullivan ! "
" Vote for the Musical Doctor ! " "No more Prescriptions ! Take
Notes," and so forth, with a transparency the size of five red silk
pocket-handkerchiefs (old style), representing Britannia and myself
crowning the Composer, pictured in,his Doctor's gown and cap.

" Keep them, my dear friend," I said, " till it's dark. I'm sorry
I can't offer to carry them for you myself, but I know so many
people here that it wouldn't do."

Well, Sir, we drove on a perfectly royal progress, with the blinds
up. Suddenly, as we turned into the Market Place, where the
Martyrs' Memorial—the beautiful Town Pump—stands,* we were

* There appears to be some slight confusion here. The Martyrs' Memorial
used to be at Oxford. But we admit that our memory is not absolutely
infallible, and our Correspondent, being in every other res-pect trustworthy,
we feel bound to take his word for the details of a locality he has so recently
visited.—Ed.

recognised: I mean, the crowd found out who we weren't. And
then you should have heard the cheer s._

"You must give 'em largesse" said I to the Future Musical
Doctor, who couldn't just then get at his pockets; and I added,
" to save time, I'll chuck out the shillings and sovereigns, and then
we can make out the account, and you can settle with me after-
wards."

In a moment, Jupiter-like, I descended in a glittering shower on
the Danaes of the crowd. Never was popularity at such a height
as was the Future Musical Doctor's at that moment. And to think
that, afterwards, he disputed my account of it, and said I couldn't
have thrown away thirteen pounds ten like that. But he is a
noble cosur. I make it a rule to speak well of a man till he pays
me. Then,—but no—Jamais—nevare, shall I say one word against
my dear old friend Arthur S. Thirteen-Pounds-Ten, Mus. Doc,
Cam.

We went over the backs of the Colleges, which are looking lovely
at this time of year. Old Tom of Christ Church (you recollectOLD
Tom ?), who is still the Porter at the Lodge, bless his grey hair, is
as gay and as lively as ever.

You remember me ? " I said to the old boy.

He did, and replied quickly,

" And you '11 remember me, won't you, Sir ? "

I turned with a moist eye to the Composer, and hummed " Then
You 'II Remember Me" (Balfe), and I pointed out to him what was
the custom from time immemorial.

He gave him a note—from his chest; my Composer never gives
less—and such a note! !

Well, Sir, we crossed Peckwater, and came out at the back of
Trinity Hall, by the Bridge of Sighs, near Joan of Arc's College,
where we saw many of its members—hence called Joanians. How
beautiful! ! What an interlacement of foliage and architecture ! *

But I must come at once to the business of the day.

A Procession was formed, in this order:—

One of the Pokers (the other came later), the Shovel, and other
University implements, signifying respectively the four terms of the
year, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Then the Proctor, in
an ancient Roman chariot, attended by two Junior Proctors armed
with fasces. These were hooted : Proctors always are. Then came
as fine a show of University bull-dogs, for which breed you know
this place ip famous. Short-legged, strong-jawed, wicked-eyed.
Cheered immensely. They were in leashes, and attended by the
V.D. Professor (Veterinary Doctor), in his robes. Then came the
Ladies affiliated to the University, headed by the Margaret Pro-
fessor, the town band playing Marguerite's "Jewel Song" from
Faust. All the caps and gowns wrere of Cambridge Blue, shining in
the sun, with fringed silver tassels. Then the leading Noblemen of
the University, in their splendid uniforms and armour of the reign
of Henry the Eighth. Then came alone the Public Orator, carried
away by his own eloquence. Received with acclamations. After
him' Dr. Goss, playing on a beautiful organ drawn by three fawn-
coloured spinnets,t with two men as Tritons blowing. Then
came the Chancellor on horseback. The Dure of Devonshire,
carrying a pot of the cream of his own native land as an offer-
ing. This is an old custom, but, as I whispered to the High
Steward, "It's an old custom, but it's all rite." He roared,
shouted, kicked, but he was obliged to get on, as the Univer-
sity Poker (red hot, of course), was behind him. The Mace
looked quite spieey. The Commissary, Me. Forsyth, came next in
uniform. His office is to run on errands for the Heads of the
Colleges, and a fine berth it is, with a long vacation of four months
and a half. Then came, as stately as possible, the Sex Viri, faces
blacked, white hats with black bands, long-tailed coats, and
gigantic white chokers and collars. Then the various Professors,
each carrying his own tripos and a square bit of carpet. The
Auditors of the Chest, flashing their bright new stethescopes, made
a fine show, and were much cheered. The two Moderators walked
together, with their wicks half turned up, and their abat-jours, or

* " Interlacement of foliage and architecture ? " It seems to us to be a
muddle of names and places. Peckwater is in Christ Church, Oxford, and
"Old Tom" is the name, we had always understood, of a vulgarian drink much
in vogue at the lower order of taverns ; while " Tom " at Oxford is certamly
not a man—more like, if we may be allowed the harmless jest, a belle than a
beau. As to Joan of Arc's College, we fancy that there must be some mis-
take here. Still we may be wrong, and we admit that tempora mutantur, and
the Universities have so changed their characters, that what was the pecu-
liarity of the one, may now have become part and parcel of the other. Yet,
on second thoughts, when our Correspondent appeals to us for corroboration,
and says " You recollect Old Tom," we are bound to admit that we do not.
Yet, if he exists, and if he recollects us, what can be said, except after a
personal investigation on the spot, which there is not now time to make. In
future, we must adopt a new and more stringent plan with Our Representa-
tive. We say this for the security of the Public—Ed.

t Surely our Correspondent must mean "jennets." A spinnet w'as m
ancient musical instrument. We print it as written, because, as he was on
the spot, the name might have been spinnets after all. But they never did*
this sort of thing in our time.—Ed.