Number 1: Saturday, January 31, 1789
Number 2: Saturday, February 7, 1789
Number 3: Saturday, February 14, 1789
Number 4: Saturday, February 21, 1789
NO. 3.
OF THE
LOITERER.
Speak of us as we are.
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR,
AND SOLD BY
C. S. RANN, OXFORD.
MDCCLXXXIX
NO. III.
OF THE
LOITERER.
SATURDAY, February 14, 1789.
Non omnes Arbusta juvant.
Not all in Woods delight.
OXFORD.
Sir,
A Writer of a periodical paper is always considered
as the lawful receiver of those complaints
and accusations, which cannot with propriety
be brought before any other tribunal, and
has from time immemorial been the repository of
all those petty distresses, which, when vented any
where else, oftener excite derision than pity. I
flatter myself, therefore, you will be graciously
pleased to take my case into consideration; and if,
after I have told my story, you find right on my
side, you will issure an edict, prohibiting my enemies
from persecuting me.
I am the son of an opulent and respectable citizen,
who for the first fifty years of his life was never on
any occasion two miles from Threadneedle Street;
who knew no learning by arithmetic, no employment
but posting his books, and no dissipation
beyond the enjoyment of his weekly club. It has
been observed, that a man's veneration for learning
is sometimes in proportion to his own want of
it; this was exactly the case with my father. He
was determined, he said, his son should be the best
scholar in the city of London. He therefore sent
me to a considerable Free-school in the neighbourhood,
where I acquired about as much knowledge
as those seminaries usually bestow; and if I was
not quite the Eighth wonder of the world, I was
at least the wonder of my father, who always examined
me of a Sunday after dinner, in the presence
of the Curate, who was generally complaisant
enough to express his astonishment at the quickness
of my apprehension, and the goodness of my memory.
At the age of eighteen, I was sent off in
the regular succession to a College in Oxford,
whose students were always taken from our seminary.
As I had never in my life been farther from
London than Turnham Green, I found myself in
a new world, and for some time I thought it a very
happy one. I had health and spirits, my allowance
was ample, and I had a great many agreeable
companions, who obligingly assisted me in the arduous
task of spending it. A very little observation
was sufficient to shew me, that every body
around me consulted only by what means they
should best get rid of their time; and candour
must acknowledge, that the variety and elegance
of their amusements reflect great honour on the
inventors. I too was resolved not to be behind
hand with my friends, in the science of spending
time agreeably; and in order to do it more systematically,
chose for my Arbiter Deliciarum, one
of the most knowing men in Oxford. He not
only regulated my dress and my behaviour, but
selected with great care my acquaintance: -- told
me how many underwaistcoats were proper for
the different seasons -- how many capes were necessary
for a great coat -- when shoe-strings and when
boots were most becoming -- taught me how to
lounge down the High Street; and how to stand
before the fire at the coffee-house.
"Nil desperandum Teucro duce."
Under such a guide my progress was not slow.
I soon became almost as wise as my instructor, and
should shortly have obtained the character of a
knowing man, had not my hopes been cut off at
once by an accident, which I am going to relate.
-- It being summer when I was entered at the
University, my feats of horsemanship had been
confined chiefly to Port Meadow and Bullington
Green; at one or other of which places I never
missed appearing, at least once a day, upon a very
clever cropt poney; and though I knew no more
of a horse than of an elephant, yet by the instructions
of my friend, by talking big, and offering
to trot a number of miles within the hour for
large sums, I contrived to make many people believe
I knew something of the matter. 
At last winter came, and I found it necessary to be very
fond of fox-hunting, without which no man can
pretend to be knowing. Never was a more fatal
resolution taken; never was there man less qualified
for a sportsman, as I was naturally timid and
chilly, and had never been on horseback in my
life before I came to Oxford. But there was no
alternative; my reputation, my character, my
very existence as a knowing man, depended on my
conduct in this article; and to say the truth, I had
heard from my acquaintance such long and pompous
accounts of sharp bursts, and long chaces --
such enthusiastic panegyrics on, and such animated
description of, this amusement, that I really began
to think there must be something wonderfully
bewitching in a diversion, which seemed to take
up so much of the time and thoughts of my companions.
I therefore, by the advice of my friend,
gave forty-five guineas for a very capital hunter;
and having furnished myself with the proper paraphernalia,
cap, belt, &c. made an appointment
to go with a large party and meet the fox-hounds
the next day. My friends were punctual to their
appointment, and rattled me out of bed at seven
o'clock, on a raw November morning, though
I would have given a thousand worlds to have
lain another hour, and a million not to have
gone at all; I was, however, obliged to repress
my sensations, and to feign an alacrity I felt
not; and though shivering with cold, and pale
with apprehension, to affect the glow of pleasure,
and assume the eagerness of hope. After a
long ride, through a most dismal country, we arrived
at the wood, where we found the hounds
were not yet come, on accont of the badness of the
morning; which, from being foggy and drizzling,
had now turned to a very heavy rain.
Here then we amused ourselves riding up and down a wretched
swampy common, or standing under a dripping
wood for about two hours, at the end of which
time the day cleared up, the hounds came, and
every countenance by mine brightened with joy;
for I was half in hopes they would not come at all.
My sufferings indeed were by yet begun; for no
sooner had the hounds thrown off than my horse
grew so hot, that benumbed as my hands were with
cold, I had no sort of power over him; the consequence
of which was, that I received many severe
reprimands for riding over the hounds, and treading
on the heels of other horses. After I had ridden in
this state of torment about three hours, the men
and hounds all at once set up a most terrible howling
and screaming, and they told me they had
found a fox. I shall not, Mr. LOITERER, attempt
to describe the chace, for if you are a sportsman
you know already what it is; and if you are
not, I am sure you will never know if from my description:
all I remember is, that as soon as the
chace began, my horse (who went just where he
pleased) dashed down a wet boggy lane, and in a
moment covered me over with water and mud. --
Oh, Mr. LOITERER! if you have the common
feelings of humanity, you will not without some
degree of pity conceive me at once cold, tired, and
frightened, carried on with irresistible velocity, and
plunged through the dirtiest part of the dirtiest
county in England!
At last however my sufferings came to a close;
for at turning short at the end of a narrow lane my
horse started -- I pitched over his head, and fell as
soft as if it had been on a feather bed. There I
lay till a countryman who had caught my horse,
brought him to me, and good-naturedly assisted
me in getting up and cleaning my clothes. No
intreaties however could prevail on me to remount,
and having desired my assistant to lead my horse to
Oxford, I determined to endeavour reaching home
on foot: but this I found not so easily effected in
my present condition, and luckily meeting with a
Higler's cart, whch was bound for that place, got
into it, and in this vehicle made my triumphant entrance
over Magdalen bridge about 8 o'clock in the
evening, just as the High-street was the fullest.
As soon as I got to my College, I went to bed
and sent for Dr. ---- , by whose skill and assistance
I was at the end of the week recovered, indeed, as
to my health; but my reputation was gone for
ever. My story during my confinement had got
wind, and was laughed at in all parties. My acquaintance
began to look at me in a very contemptible
light, and even my own familiar friend, in
whom I implicitly confided, soon let me know,
that it was no longer consistent with his reputation
to be seen walking the High street with me. If I
entered a coffee-house I was sure to hear a titter
and a whisper run round the room; and at last the
very servants at the livery stables pointed at me as
I passed the streets and said -- There's the Gentleman
as got such a hell of a tumble t'other day.
In short I was obliged to give up all my knowing
acquaintance, and get into an entirely different
set; who, as they had never aspired to the first pinnacle
of sporting merit, and could at best boast but
a secondary kind of knowingness, receive me with
open arms. They, on hearing my story, told me
[sic] had totally mispent my time and money; that fox-
hunting was not only very dangerous, but a very
expensive and a very uncertain amusement; that
shooting on the other hand was free from these objections,
being a diversion exceedingly cheap, always
in our power, and which had the additional
recommendation of furnishing us game for our own
table, and our friend's. All this was ended in offering
to be my instructors in this agreeable amusement.
I own I listened to this recital with pleasure and
accepted the offer with gratitude, for I was not
yet quite cured of the rage for being knowing, and
thought it not impossible to gain some degree of reputation
from being a good shot. -- I therefore furnished
myself with every proper requisite for this
amusement, and in an evil hour accompanied my
new friends to Bagley-Wood. -- I will not take up
your time with a particular description of our day's
sport, but it is enough to say, that the last error
was worse than the first, that I returned home, wet,
dirty, scratched and tired, and pretty well convinced
that I was not more fitted for a Shot than a
Fox-hunter. -- I have since endeavoured to excell
in some other Amusements, but the same ill luck
has constantly attended me. I got at least twenty
broken heads last winter in learning to skate, and
have since narrowly escaped being drowned by attempting
to throw a casting net, which had nearly
drawn me in to the water with it. -- This however
was the least [sic] effort of the kind I ever made, and I
am now set quietly down, perfectly satisfied with
my own atchievements in the sporting way. -- But
the worst part of the story is, that my companions
have not yet done laughing at me; my exploits on
the contrary seem to be to them inexhaustible sujects
of Amusement: sometimes they talk to me,
and sometimes at me -- One wonders at my want
of taste; and another at my want of resolution. A
third asks me how I felt when I was falling off. --
And a fourth thanks heaven he was not bred in
London. -- In this distressful situation I apply to
you, Mr. Loiterer, as my only friend, and beg you
to intercede in my behalf, since nobody else will;
tell them then, Sir, that I do not the least call in
question the merit of their different diversions, or
doubt their particular prowess in them, but that
by early and unconquerable prejudices, and through
a perverted but incurable taste, I can find no pleasure
in diversions where difficulty and danger are
rewarded by dirt and noise. -- You may tell them
also, that on condition they are merciful to me no [sic]
this subject, I will in my turn promise always to
speak of Sportsmen with reverence, and drink
Fox-hunting in a Bumper. -- And that whenever
(at their return home, after their bewitching sports)
they feel inclined to expatiate on their glorious
topics and hold forth on the merits of their horses or
themselves, they shall find a most silent respectful
and attentive hearer in, Sir,
Your humble Servant,
Christopher Cockney.
C
Back to the ASJAS Homepage
Comments?
ASJAS Staff
View title page for Number 10 of The Loiterer
Number 1: Saturday, January 31, 1789
Number 2: Saturday, February 7, 1789
Number 3: Saturday, February 14, 1789
Number 4: Saturday, February 21, 1789
N O. 4
OF THE
LOITERER.
Speak of us as we are.
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR,
AND SOLD BY
C. S. RANN, OXFORD.
MDCCLXXXIX.
Those Gentlemen who may be inclined to honour
the LOITERER with their Correspondence, are
desired to send their communications (post-paid)
directed to The Author of the LOITERER, at
C. S. Rann's bookseller, High-street, Oxford.
N. B. TOM WITTY is received, and shall be
inserted the first opportunity. -- CLERICUS is too
lavish of quotations. -- We fear, that CANDIDUS aims
at persons more than vices.
NO. IV.
OF THE
LOITERER.
SATURDAY, February 21, 1789.
Pereunt & imputatur.
As I was going the other morning to Hornsby's
Lectures I saw an acquaintance of mine
lounging against the College-gate, and gazing
about with that vacant look, which generally indicates
that a man does not know what to do with
himself. I therefore offered to take him with me,
and added by way of inducement, that the Lecture
was to be remarkably entertaining. He
thanked me for my good intention, said he should
like it above all things, but that at present he was
very busy, and really had not time. I was, I confess,
rather surprized at this answer, considering the
character of the speaker, but I said nothing, for
every man is the best judge of his own concerns.
-- My astonishment however was not a little increased,
when on returning about two hours afterwards,
I saw the very same person in the very same
place, and nearly in the very same attitude; and
where, I found on enquiring, he had remained
ever since I left him. I was at first a little inclined
to laugh at my friend's method of making
the most of his time, but when I came to sit down,
and think the matter over coolly, I found, or fancied
I found, so many instances of the same conduct,
amongst those, whose age and experience might
have better taight the value of days and hours;
that his folly was lost amidst the follies of a thousand
others, and his behaviour no longer appeared
extraordinary, because no longer singular.
-- There is most certainly indeed no apology, for
not doing what we do not choose to do, so often
made use of by one half of the world, or so
readily admitted by the other, as this very complaint
of want of time. -- And yet, perhaps, none
was ever more void of foundation.
That there are indeed certain descriptions of
people in the world, who find their time not more
than equal to the necessary duties of their station
in life, cannot be denied; but it unfortunately
happens that from these quarters we hear no complaints
of this kind, and that they who are ever
loudest on the subject of time, usually make the
least use of it. -- Thus, for example, I will readily
allow that Foreign Ambassadors and their Secretaries,
Compilers of Newspapers and their Runners,
Ministers to great Monarchs, and Waiting-
maids to Beauties; nay, and even great
Beauties themselves, have always business enough
to employ both their Heads, Hands, and Time,
and may occasionally find all three insufficient for
their purpose. But how an honest English Country
Gentleman, or a young member of this University
(who are exempted from the troublesome
duties which attend the above-mentioned ranks)
can with any degree of reason complain, that their
time is not sufficient for any thing, they have to do,
I own I am at a loss to guess.
But what makes the matter more extraordinary,
is the extremely irregular and inconsistent effect
which the want of time has on their actions, and
how different it operates at different periods.
-- I perfectly remember a Country Squire, who,
though seldom in bed at day-light, and who in
the space of thirty years was not once known to be
too late at the finding a fox; was yet always so hurried
on Sunday Morning, that he never, poor
man! could find time to go to Church; and I have
been told that there are to be found young men in
Oxford, who are just in the same predicament.
For all which reasons I am decidedly of opinion,
that so far from not having time enough, our greatest
misfortune in this world is having too much,
that our business is to make it as short as we can.
And that he who does this best -- best answers the
end of his creation. Nor let this assertion, if a
little bold, be deemed rash; since I have the opinion
of a very clever man, and the practice of half
the world in my favor. For if mankind do not
think of time as I do, why are many amusements
so eagerly pursued which have little besides the destroying
it to recommend them? -- and if Mr.
Soame Jennings was not of the same opinion, why
should he have taken so much pains in his celebrated
Disquisition, to prove that there is no such
thing as time at all? could he have made good
this assertion, great would have been the happiness
of mankind, and proportionably great the reputation
of the author. -- But, alas! Mr. Jennings's
arguments are more ingenious than solid, and rather
plausible than convincing, and many of my
unhappy countrymen still find to their cost, that
time is no imaginary Foe, but a real Enemy,
whom it requires all their invention, and all their
perseverance to get the better of. -- It has been observed,
however, that human industry and human
invention redouble their efforts, and act with
increased powers in proportion to the difficulties
which are thrown in their way; -- and we accordingly
find that they, whose situation most expose
them to that sort of ennui, which arises from having
more time than employment, have ever been remarkable
for a great variety of those resouces,
which are properly enough said to kill time. --
Hence the ingenious devices which have been
practiced by those hapless beings whom a Grand
Monarque, in his paternal goodness, thinks proper
to furnish with a Chambre Garni in some solitary
Dungeon, and support at his own royal expence
with bread and water. -- Hence too, the scarcely
less ingenious inventions, those time destroying
amusements, which are so much in use among
those warlike youth, whom a sense of honor,
and thirst of military glory, impel to carry a pair
of colours from one market twon to another for
the good of their country. But whatever can
be said in favour of any of the above-mentioned
personages, and their inventions, I am of opinion
they all fall exceedingly short of some of the
members of this University, who are greatly their
superiors in the art of killing time. And that my
partiality may not here be supposed to have got
the better of my judgment, I shall bring an instance
or two to prove that the pre-eminence I
contend for is founded on real precedents, and
supported by historic facts.
Every one is doubtless acquainted with the
fray which happened in the reign of Richard the
Second, between the Pope's Legate and some
Oxford men. I do not mean to enter into the
particulars of the story (which for obvious reasons
is better forgot than remembered) but shall only
observe that the Row (and a fine Row it certainly
was) took its rise from a number of scholars who
were lounging in the Legate's Kitchen, and looking
on whilst his Holiness's dinner was preparing.
This, though rather an extraordinary amusement,
shews that Lounging was at least as fashionable in
the 14th as in the 18th century. But the next
proof I shall bring is still more weighty and
convincing, as it is drawn from no less respectable
authority than the Statute Book of the
University. For if there was not an innate love of
Lounging in all Oxford men, why should a law
have been enacted forbidding them, under very
severe penalties, to loiter away their time in sitting
on Pennyless Bench? which (as some of
my readers may not be acquainted with Oxford)
it is necessary to say stood exactly opposite the
City Conduit, on each side of which the Butchers'
Shambles appeared in beautiful perspective, and
must consequently have been a most comfortable
situation. -- To trace the various modes of killing
time down to the present day, would open a field
much too large for the compass of my paper.
The History of Ancient Lounging, would be a
work nearly as voluminous as the History of
Ancient Poetry. I shall therefore only observe,
that as we have not yet degenerated from our
predecessors, so we have every reason to hope
that our posterity will act up to the example set
them by their fathers, and that the art of killing
time will continue to be practised till time itself
be no more! And to convince the world I am
not too sanguine in my expectations, I shall close
this number with a weekly Journal of a modern
Oxford man, which, though I do not vouch
for its being genuine, is as much so as many
of those found in the works of my ingenious
ancestors, Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff, or the man with
the short Face.
Diary of a modern Oxford Man.
SUNDAY.
Waked at eight o'clock by the scout, to tell
me the bell was going for prayers -- wonder those
scoundrels are suffered to make such a noise --
tried to get to sleep again, but could not -- 
sat up and read Hoyle in bed -- ten, got up and
breakfasted -- Charles Racket called to ask me to
ride -- agreed to stay til the President was gone
to Church -- half after eleven, rode out, going
down the High-street saw Will Sagely going to
St. Mary's -- can't think what people go to church
for. -- Twelve to two, rode round Bullington-
Green, met Careless and a new Freshman of
Trinity -- engaged them to dine with me -- two
to three, lounged at the stable, made the Freshman
ride over the Bail, talked to him about
horses: see he knows nothing about the matter --
went home and dressed -- three to eight, dinner
and wine -- remarkable pleasant evening -- sold
Racket's stonehorse for him to Careless's friend
for fifty guineas -- certainly break his neck -- eight
to ten, Coffee-house, and lounged in the High-
street. -- Stranger went home to study; am afraid
he's a bad one -- engaged to hunt to-morrow and
dine with Racket -- twelve supped and went to
bed early, in order to get up to-morrow.
MONDAY.
Racket rowed me up at seven o'clock -- sleepy
and queer, but forced to get up to make breakfast
for him -- eight to five in the after noon,
hunting -- famous run, and killed near Bicester --
number of tumbles -- Freshman out on Racket's
stonehorse -- got the devil of a fall into a ditch --
horse upon him -- but don't know whether he was
killed or not.-- Five, dressed and went to dine
with Racket -- dean had cross'd his name, and no
dinner could be got -- went to the Angel and
dined -- famous evening till eleven, when the
Proctors came and told us to go home to our
Colleges -- went directly the contrary way -- eleven
to one, went down into St. Thomas's and fought
a raff -- one, dragged home by somebody, the
Lord know whom, and put to bed.
TUESDAY.
Very bruised and sore, did not get up till
twelve -- found an imposition on my table -- mem.
to give it the hair-dresser -- drank six dishes of
tea -- did not know what to do with myself, so
wrote to my father for money. -- Half after one,
put on my boots to ride for an hour -- met Careless
at the stable -- rode together -- asked me to dine
with him and meet Jack Sedley, who is just
returned from France -- two to three, returned
home and dressed -- four to seven, dinner and
wine -- Jack very pleasant -- told some good stories
-- says the French women have thick legs -- no
hunting to be got, and very little wine -- won't go
there in a hurry -- seven, went to the stable and
then looked in at the coffee-house -- very few
drunken men, and nothing going forwards --
agreed to play Sedley at billiards -- Walker's table
engaged, and forced to go to the Blue Posts --
lost two guineas -- thought I could have beat him,
but the dog has been practicing in France -- ten,
supper at Careless's -- bought Sedley's mare for
thirty guineas -- think he knows nothing of a
horse, and believe I have done him. -- Drank a
little punch, and went to bed at twelve.
WEDNESDAY.
Hunted with the Duke of B. -- very long run,
rode the new mare, found her sinking, so pulled
up in time, and swore I had a shoe lost -- to sell
her directly -- buy no more horses of Sedley --
knows more than I though he did. -- Four, returned
home, and as I was dressing to dine with
Sedley, received a note from some country neighbours
of my fathers to desire me to dine at the
Cross -- obliged to send an excuse to Sedley --
wanted to put on my cap and gown; -- cap broke
and gown not to be found, forced to borrow --
half after four to ten, at the Cross with my Lions --
very loving evening indeed -- ten, found it too bad,
so got up and told them it was against the rules of
the University to be out later.
THURSDAY.
Breakfasted at the Cross, and walked all the
morning about Oxford with my Lions -- terrible
flat work -- Lions very troublesome -- asked an
hundred and fifty silly questions about everything
they saw. -- Wanted me to explain the Latin
inscriptions on the monuments in Christ Church
Chapel! -- Wanted to know how we spent our
time! -- forced to invent answers as well as I
could. -- Four, forced to give them a dinner,
and what was worse, to sit with them till six, when
I told them I was engaged for the rest of the evening,
and sent them about their business--
seven, dropped in at Careless's rooms, found him
with a large party, all pretty much cut, thought
it was a good time to sell him Sedley's mare, but
he was not quite drunk enough -- made a bet with
him that I trotted my poney from Benson to Oxford
winin the hour -- sure of winning, for I did it
the other day in fifty minutes.
FRIDAY.
Got up early and rode the poney at a foot pace
over to Benson to breakfast -- Old Shrub breaks
fast -- told him of the bet, and shewed him the
poney; -- shook his head and looked cunning
when he heard of it -- good sign after breakfast --
rode the race, and won easy, but could not get
any money; forced to take Careless's draught;
dare say 'tis not worth two-pence; great fool to
bet with him. -- twelve till three, lounged at the
stable, and cut my black horse's tail -- eat soup at
Sadler's -- walked down the High-street -- met
Racket, who wanted me to dine with him, but
could not because I was engaged to Sagely -- three,
dinner at Sagely's -- very bad -- dined, in a cold
hall, and could get nothing to eat -- wine new-- a
bad fire -- tea-kettle put on at five o'clock --
played at Whist for six-pences, and no bets --
thought I should have gone to sleep-- terrible
working dining with a studious man -- eleven, when to
bed out of spirits.
SATURDAY.
Ten, breakfast -- attempted to read the Loiterer,
but it was too stupid; flung it down and took up
Bartlet's Farriery -- had not read two pages before
a Dun came, told him I should have some money
soon -- would not be gone -- offered him brandy --
was sulky, and would not have any -- saw he was
going to be savage, so kicked him down stairs to
prevent his being impertinent. -- Thought perhaps
I might have more of them, so went to
lounge at the stables -- poney got a bad cough,
and the black horse thrown out two splints; went
back to my room in an ill humour -- found a
letter from my fater, no money, and a great
deal of advice -- wants to know how my last
quarter's allowance went -- how the devil should I
know? -- he knows I keep no accounts -- Do think
fathers are the greatest Bores in nature. -- Very
low spirited and flat all the morning
some thoughts of reforming, but luckily Carelss came
in to beg me to meet our party at his rooms, so
altered my mind, dined with him, and by nine in
the evening was very happy.
C.
Back to the ASJAS Homepage