The English Spy, 1825

Date: 1825 to 1825
Location: Windsor, Berkshire, England
Surname/tag: Stocker

Account of Herbert Stockhore published in THE ENGLISH SPY, described as
"An Original Work - CHARACTERISTIC, SATIRICAL, AND HUMOROUS. COMPRISING SCENES AND SKETCHES IN EVERY RANK OF SOCIETY, BEING PORTRAITS DRAWN FROM THE LIFE BY BERNARD BLACKMANTLE. THE ILLUSTRATIONS DESIGNED BY ROBERT CRUIKSHANK. By Frolic, Mirth, and Fancy gay, Old Father Time is borne away."
LONDON: PUBLISHED BY SHERWOOD, JONES, AND CO. PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1825.
Project Gutenberg

HERBERT STOCKHORE, THE MONTEM POET LAUREATE.
A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE,
As he appeared in the Montem Procession of May, 1823.
BY BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, AND ROBERT TRANSIT

Bending beneath a weight of time,
And crippled as his Montem ode,
We found the humble son of rhyme
Busy beside the public road.
Nor laureld wreath or harp had he,
To deck his brow or touch the note
That wakes the soul to sympathy.
His face was piteous as his coat,
Twas motley strange; een natures self,
In wild, eccentric, playful mood,
Had, for her pastime, formd the elf,
A being scarcely understood--
Half idiot, harmless; yet a gleam
Of sense, and whim, and shrewdness, broke
The current of his wildest stream;
And pity sighd as madness spoke.
Lavater, Lawrence, Camper, here
Philosophy new light had caught
Judged by your doctrines twould appear
The facial line denoted thought.¹
But say, what system eer shall traceBy scalp or visage mental worth?
The ideots form, the maniacs face,
Are shared alike by all on earth.
"Comparative Anatomy--"
If, Stockhore, twas to thee applyd,
Twould set the doubting Gallist free,
And Spurzheims idle tales deride.
But hence with visionary scheme,
Though Bell, or Abernethy, write;
Be Herbert Stockhore all my theme,
The laureates praises I indite;
He erst who sung in Montems praise,
And, Thespis like, from out his cart
Recited his extempore lays,
On Etons sons, in costume smart,
Who told of captains bold and grand,
Lieutenants, marshals, seeking _salt_
Of colonels, majors, cap in hand,
Who bade een majesty to halt;
Told how the ensign nobly waved
The colours on the famous hill;
And names from dull oblivion saved,
Who neer the niche of fame can fill:
Who, like to Campbell, lends his name.²
To many a whim he neer did write;
When witty scholars, to their shame,
Gainst masters hurl a satire trite.³
But fare thee well, Ad Montems bard,⁴
Farewell, my memrys early friend

1 It is hardly possible to conceive a more intelligent, venerable looking head, than poor Herbert Stockhore presents; a fine capacious forehead, rising like a promontory of knowledge, from a bold outline of countenance, every feature decisive, breathing serenity and thoughtfulness, with here and there a few straggling locks of silvery gray, which, like the time-discoloured moss upon some ancient battlements, are the true emblems of antiquity: the eye alone is generally dull and sunken in the visage, but during his temporary gleams of sanity, or fancied flights of poetical inspiration, it is unusually bright and animated. According to professor Camper, I should think the facial line would make an angle of eighty or ninety degrees; and, judging upon the principles laid down by Lavater, poor Herbert might pass for a Solon. Of his bumps, or phrenological protuberances, I did not take particular notice, but I have no doubt they would be found, upon examination, equally illustrative of such visionary systems.

2 The author of "the Pleasures of Hope," and the editor of the New Monthly; but-"Tarde, quo credita lodunt, credimus."

3 It has long been the custom at Eton, particularly during Montem, to give Herbert Stockhore the credit of many a satirical whim, which he, poor fellow, could as easily have penned as to have written a Greek ode. These squibs are sometimes very humorous, and are purposely written in doggrel verse to escape detection by the masters, who are not unfrequently the principal persons alluded to.

4 The following laughable production was sold by poor Herbert Stockhore during the last Montem: we hardly think we need apologise for introducing this specimen of his muse: any account of Eton characteristics must have been held deficient without it.

THE MONTEM ODE. May 20, 1823.

Muses attend! the British channel flock oer,
Calld by your most obedient servant, Stockhore.
Aid me, O, aid me, while I touch the string;
Montem and Captain Barnards praise I sing;
Captain Barnard, the youth so noble and bright,
That none dare dispute his worthy right
To that gay laurel which his brother wore,
In times that I remember long before.
What are Olympic honours compared to thine,
0 Captain, when Majesty does combine
With heroes, their wives, sons and daughters great,
To visit this extremely splendid fete.
Enough! I feel a sudden inspiration fill
My bowels; just as if the tolling bell
Had sent forth sounds a floating all along the air
Just such Parnassian sounds, though deaf, Im sure I hear.
May misery never press thee hard,
Neer may disease thy steps attend:
Listen, ye gents; rude Boreas hold your tongue!
The pomp advances, and my lyre is strung.

First comes Marshal Thackeray,
Dressd out in crack array;
Arnt he a whacker, eh?
His way he picks,
Followd by six,
Like a hen by her chicks:
Enough! hes gone.

As this martial Marshall
Is to music partial,
The bandsmen march all
His heels upon.
He who hits the balls such thumps,
King of cricket-bats and stumps,--

Barnard comes;
Sound the drums--
Silence! hes past.
Eight fair pages,
Of different ages,
Follow fast.

Next comes the Serjeant-Major,
Who, like an old stager,
Without need of bridle
Walks steadily; the same
Dolphin Major by name,
Major Dolphin by title.

Next struts Serjeant Brown,
Very gay you must own;
With gallant Mr. Hughes,
In well-polishd shoes;
Then Sampson, who tramps on,
Strong as his namesake.
Then comes Webb, who dont dread
To die for his fames sake.

Next shall I sing
Of Serjeant King,
And Horace Walpole,
Holding a tall pole,
Who follows King and Antrobus,
Though hes "pulchrior ambobus."

Be all thy wants by those supplyd,
Whom charity neer faild to move⁵ Then to Salthill speed on,
While the troops they lead on;
Both Mr. Beadon,
And Serjeant Mitford,Whos ready to fit fort.
Then Mr. Carter follows ater;
And Denman,
Worth ten men,
Like a Knight of the Garter;
And Cumberbatch,
Without a match,
Tell me, who can be smarter?
Then Colonel Hand,
Monstrous grand,
Closes the band.

Pass on, you nameless crowd,
Pass on. The Ensign proud
Comes near. Let all that can see
Behold the Ensign Dansey;
See with what elegance he
Waves the flag--to please the fancy.
Pass on, gay crowd; Le Mann, the big,
Bright with gold as a guinea-pig,
The big, the stout, the fierce Le Mann,
Walks like a valiant gentleman.
But take care of your pockets,
Heres Salt-bearer Platt,
With a bag in his hand,
And a plume in his hat;
A handsomer youth, sure small-clothes neer put on,
Though very near rivald by elegant Sutton.

Thus then has passd this grand procession,
In most magnificent progression.
Farewell you gay and happy throng!
Etonas motto, crest, and pride,
s feeling, courage, friendship, love.
Farewell my Muse! farewell my song
Farewell Salthill! farewell brave Captain;
As ever uniform was clapt in;
Since Fortunes kind, pray do not mock her;
Your humble poet,
HERBERT STOCKHORE.

5 This eccentric creature has for many years subsisted entirely upon the bounty of the Etonians, and the inhabitants of Windsor and Eton, who never fail to administer to his wants, and liberally supply him with many little comforts in return for his harmless pleasantries.

Herbert Stockhore was originally a bricklayer, and now resides at a little house which he has built for himself, and called Mount Pleasant, in a lane leading from Windsor to the Meadows. He has a wife and daughter, honest, industrious people, who reside with him, and are by no means displeased at the visit of a stranger to their eccentric relative. Some idea of the old mans amusing qualifications may be conceived from the following description, to which I have added the account he gives of his heraldic bearings. It must be recollected that the Etonians encourage these whims in the poor old man, and never lose an opportunity of impressing Stockhore with a belief in the magnificent powers of his genius.

After we had heard him recite several of his unconnected extempore rhapsodies, we were to be indulged with the Montem ode; this the old man insisted should be spoken in his gala dress; nor could all the entreaties of his wife and daughter, joined to those of myself and friend (fearful of appearing obtrusive), dissuade old Herbert from his design. He appeared quite frantic with joy when the dame brought forth from an upper apartment these insignia of his laureateship; the careful manner in which they were folded up and kept clean gave us to understand that the good woman herself set some store by them. The wife and daughter now proceeded to robe the laureate bard: the first garment which was placed over his shoulders, and came below his waist, was a species of tunic made out of patches of bed-furniture, trimmed in the most fantastic manner with fragments of worsted fringe of all colors. Over this he wore an old military jacket, of a very ancient date in respect to costume, and trimmed like the robe with fringe of every variety. A pair of loose trowsers of the same materials as the tunic were also displayed; but the fashion of the poets head-dress exceeded all the rest for whimsicality: round an old soldiers cap a sheet of pasteboard was bent to a spiral form, rising about fourteen inches, and covered with some pieces of chintz bed-furniture of a very rich pattern; in five separate circles, was disposed as many different colors of fringes; some worsted twisted, to resemble feathers, was suspended from the side; and the whole had the most grotesque appearance, more nearly resembling the papal crown in similitude than any thing else I can conceive.

Poor harmless soul, thy merry stave
Shall live when nobler poets bend;

The poor old fellow seemed elated to a degree. We had sent for a little ale for him, but were informed he was not accustomed to drink much of any strong liquor. After a glass, Herbert recited with great gesture and action, but in a very imperfect manner, the Montem ode; and then for a few minutes seemed quite exhausted. During this exhibition my friend Transit was engaged in sketching his portrait, a circumstance that appeared to give great pleasure to the wife and daughter, who earnestly requested, if it was published, to be favored with a copy.

We had now become quite familiar with the old man, and went with him to view his Montem car and Arabian pony, as he called them, in a stable adjoining the house. On our return, my friend Transit observed that his cart required painting, and should be decorated with some appropriate emblem. Herbert appeared to understand the idea, and immediately proceeded to give us a history of his heraldic bearings, or, as he said, what his coat of arms should be, which, he assured us, the gentlemen of Eton had subscribed for, and were having prepared at the Heralds College in London, on purpose for him to display next Montem. "My grand-father," said Stockhore, "was a hatter, therefore I am entitled to the beaver in the first quarter of my shield. My grandfather by my mothers side was a farmer, therefore I should have the wheat-sheaf on the other part. My own father was a pipe-maker, and that gives me a noble ornament, the cross pipes and glasses, the emblems of good fellowship. Now my wifes father was a tailor, and that yields me a goose: those are the bearings of the four quarters of my shield. Now, sir, I am a poet--ay, the poet laureate of Montem; and that gives me a right to the winged horse for my crest. Theres a coat of arms for you," said poor Herbert; "why, it would beat every thing but the kings; ay, and his too, if it wasnt for the lion and crown."

The attention we paid to this whim pleased the poor creature mightily; he was all animation and delight. But the day was fast declining: so, after making the poor people a trifling present for the trouble we had given them, my friend Transit and myself took our farewell of poor Herbert, not, I confess, without regret; for I think the reader will perceive by this brief sketch there is great character and amusement in his harmless whims. I have been thus particular in my description of him, because he is always at Montem time an object of much curiosity; and to every Etonian of the last thirty years, his peculiarities must have frequently afforded amusement.

And when Atropos to the grave
Thy silvery locks of gray shall send,
Etonas sons shall sing thy fame,
_Ad Montem_ still thy verse resound,
Still live an ever cherishd name,
As long as salt⁶ and sock abound.

6 Salt is the name given to the money collected at Montem.