When a boy goes to college, eager, quick, impetuous, rejoicing as a giant to run his course, he is generally filled with noble resolutions and elevating thoughts. There is a touch of flame and of romance in his disposition; he feels himself to be the member of a brotherhood, and longs to be a distinguished and worthy one; he is anxious for all that is grand and right, and yearns for a little sympathy to support his determination and enliven his hopes. Some there may be so dull and sensual, so swallowed up in selfishness and conceit, so chill to every generous sentiment, and callous to every stirring impulse, that they experience none of this; their sole aim is, on the one hand to succeed, or on the other, to amuse and gratify themselves, to cultivate all their animal propensities, and drown in the mud-honey of premature independence the last relics of their childish aspirations. With men like this, to dress showily, to drive tandem and give champagne breakfasts, comes as a matter of course; while their supremest delight is to wander back to their old school, in fawn-coloured dittos, and with a cigar in their mouths, to show their superiority to all sense of decency and good taste. But these are the rare exceptions. However much they may conceal their own emotions, however dead and cynical, and contemptible they may grow in after days, there are few men of ordinary uprightness who do not feel a thrill of genuine enthusiasm when they first enter the walls of their college, and who will not own it without a blush.
Now Julian was an enthusiast by nature and temperament; all the sentiments which we have been describing he felt with more than ordinary intensity. It gave a grandeur to his hopes, and a distinct sense of ennobling pleasure to remember that he was treading the courts which generations of the good and wise had trodden before him, and holding in his hand the torch which they had handed down to him. Their memory still lingered there, and he trusted that his name too might in after days be not wholly unremembered. At least he would strive, with a godlike energy, to fail in no duty, and to leave no effort unfulfilled. If he viewed his coming life too much in its poetical aspect, at least his glowing aspirations and golden dreams were tempered with a deep humility and a childlike faith.
After fuming a little at the icy reception which his tutor had given him, he walked up and down the court, thinking of his position, and his intentions—of the past, the present, and the future—until proud tears glistened in his eyes. It was clear to him that now he would have to stand alone amid life’s trials, and alone face life’s temptations. And he was ready for the struggle. With God’s help he would not miss the meaning of his life, but take the tide of opportunity while it was at the flood.
Before rejoining his mother, he determined to call on one of the junior fellows, the only one with whom he had any acquaintance, the Reverend N Admer. He only knew him from a casual introduction; but Mr. Admer had asked him to call, on his arrival at Saint Werner’s, and Julian hoped both to get some information from him to dissipate the painful feeling of strangeness and novelty, and also partially to do away with the effect of Mr. Grayson’s coldness.
Although it was now past ten in the morning, he found Mr. Admer only just beginning breakfast, and looking tired and lazy. He was received with a patronising and supercilious tone, and the Fellow not only went on with his breakfast, but occasionally glanced at a newspaper while he talked. Not that Mr. Admer at all meant to be unkind or rude, but he hated enthusiasm in every shape; he did not believe in it, and it wearied him—hence freshmen during their first few days were his profound abhorrence.
After a few commonplace remarks, Julian ventured on a question or two as to the purchases which he would immediately require, the hours of lecture and hall, and the thousand-and-one trifles of which a newcomer is necessarily ignorant. Mr. Admer seemed to think this a great bore, and answered languidly enough, advising Julian not to be “more fresh” than he could help. It requires very small self-denial to make a person at home by supplying him with a little information; but small as the effort would have been, it was greater than the Reverend N Admer could afford to make, and his answers were so little encouraging that Julian, making ample allowance for the ennuyé condition of the young Fellow, relapsed into silence.
“And what do you think of Saint Werner’s?” asked Mr. Admer, taking the initiative, with a yawn.
Julian’s face lighted up. “Think of it! I feel uncommonly proud already of being a Saint Werner’s man.”
“Genius loci, and all that sort of thing, eh?”
The sneering way in which this was said left room for no reply, so Mr. Admer continued.
“Ah you’ll soon find all that sort of twaddle wear off.”
“I hope not,” said Julian.
“Of course you intend to be senior classic, or senior wrangler, or something of that sort?”
“I expect simply nothing; but if I were inclined to soar, one might have a still higher ambition than that.”
“Oh, I see; an embryo Newton—all that sort of thing.”
“I didn’t mean quite ‘all that sort of thing,’ since you seem fond of the phrase,” said Julian, “but really I think my aspirations, whatever they are, would only tire you. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” said Mr. Admer, nodding. “We don’t shake hands up here. I shall come and call on you soon.”
“The later the better,” thought Julian, as he descended the narrow stairs. “Good heavens! is that a fair specimen of a don, I wonder. If so, I shall certainly confine my acquaintance to the undergraduates.”
No, Julian, not a fair specimen of a don altogether, but in some of his aspects a fair specimen of a certain class of university men, who profess to admire nothing, hope for nothing, love nothing; who think warmth of heart a folly, and sentiment a crime; who would not display an interest in any thing more important than a boat-race or a game of bowls, to save their lives; who are very fond of the phrase, “all that sort of nonsense,” to express everything that rises above the dead level of their own dead mediocrity in intelligence and life. If you would not grovel in spirit; if you would not lose every tear that sparkles, and every sigh that burns; if you would not ossify the very power of passion; if you would not turn your soul into a mass of shapeless lead, avoid those despicable cynics, who never leave their discussion of the merits of beer, or the powers of stroke oars, unless it be to carp at acknowledged eminence, and jeer at genuine emotion. How often in such company have I seen men relapse into stupid silence, because, if they ventured on any expression of lively interest, one of the throng, amid the scornful indifference of the rest, would give the only acknowledgment of his remark, by taking the pipe out of his mouth, to give vent to a low guttural laugh.
After this it was lucky for Julian that he had brought his mother and sister with him, and that a moment after leaving Mr. Admer he caught sight of Hugh Lillyston. With a joyful expression of surprise, they grasped each other’s hands, and interchanged so friendly a greeting that Julian in an instant had scattered to the winds the gloomy impression which was beginning to creep over him.
“How long have you been here, Hugh?”
“I came yesterday.”
“Have you seen your rooms yet?”
“No; I am just going to look for them.”
“Well, come along; I know where they are.”
“But