The poet also speaks at the Union, where his
sentiments are either revolutionary, or so wildly conservative that
he looks on Magna Charta as the first step on the path that leads to
England's ruin. As a politician, the undergraduate poet knows no
mean between Mr. Peter Taylor and King John. He has been known to
found a Tory club, and shortly afterwards to swallow the formulae of
Mr. Bradlaugh.
The life of the poet is, not unnaturally, one long warfare with his
dons. He cannot conform himself to pedantic rules, which demand his
return to college before midnight. Though often the possessor of a
sweet vein of clerical and Kebleian verse, the poet does not
willingly attend chapel; for indeed, as he sits up all night, it is
cruel to expect him to arise before noon. About the poet's late
habits a story is told, which seems authentic. A remarkable and
famous contemporary singer was known to his fellow-undergraduates
only by this circumstance, that his melodious voice was heard
declaiming anapaests all through the ambrosial night. When the voice
of the singer was lulled, three sharp taps were heard in the silence.
This noise was produced by the bard's Scotch friend and critic in
knocking the ashes out of his pipe. These feasts of reason are
almost incompatible with the early devotion which, strangely enough,
Shelley found time and inclination to attend.
Now it is (or was) the belief of undergraduates that you might break
the decalogue and the laws of man in every direction with safety and
the approval of the dons, if you only went regularly to chapel.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112