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_ Some people say that their school days were the happiest of their
lives. They may be right, but I always look with suspicion upon
those whom I hear saying this. It is hard enough to know whether
one is happy or unhappy now, and still harder to compare the
relative happiness or unhappiness of different times of one's life;
the utmost that can be said is that we are fairly happy so long as
we are not distinctly aware of being miserable. As I was talking
with Ernest one day not so long since about this, he said he was so
happy now that he was sure he had never been happier, and did not
wish to be so, but that Cambridge was the first place where he had
ever been consciously and continuously happy.
How can any boy fail to feel an ecstasy of pleasure on first finding
himself in rooms which he knows for the next few years are to be his
castle? Here he will not be compelled to turn out of the most
comfortable place as soon as he has ensconced himself in it because
papa or mamma happens to come into the room, and he should give it
up to them. The most cosy chair here is for himself, there is no
one even to share the room with him, or to interfere with his doing
as he likes in it--smoking included. Why, if such a room looked out
both back and front on to a blank dead wall it would still be a
paradise, how much more then when the view is of some quiet grassy
court or cloister or garden, as from the windows of the greater
number of rooms at Oxford and Cambridge.
Theobald, as an old fellow and tutor of Emmanuel--at which college
he had entered Ernest--was able to obtain from the present tutor a
certain preference in the choice of rooms; Ernest's, therefore, were
very pleasant ones, looking out upon the grassy court that is
bounded by the Fellows' gardens.
Theobald accompanied him to Cambridge, and was at his best while
doing so. He liked the jaunt, and even he was not without a certain
feeling of pride in having a full-blown son at the University. Some
of the reflected rays of this splendour were allowed to fall upon
Ernest himself. Theobald said he was "willing to hope"--this was
one of his tags--that his son would turn over a new leaf now that he
had left school, and for his own part he was "only too ready"--this
was another tag--to let bygones be bygones.
Ernest, not yet having his name on the books, was able to dine with
his father at the Fellows' table of one of the other colleges on the
invitation of an old friend of Theobald's; he there made
acquaintance with sundry of the good things of this life, the very
names of which were new to him, and felt as he ate them that he was
now indeed receiving a liberal education. When at length the time
came for him to go to Emmanuel, where he was to sleep in his new
rooms, his father came with him to the gates and saw him safe into
college; a few minutes more and he found himself alone in a room for
which he had a latch-key.
From this time he dated many days which, if not quite unclouded,
were upon the whole very happy ones. I need not however describe
them, as the life of a quiet steady-going undergraduate has been
told in a score of novels better than I can tell it. Some of
Ernest's schoolfellows came up to Cambridge at the same time as
himself, and with these he continued on friendly terms during the
whole of his college career. Other schoolfellows were only a year
or two his seniors; these called on him, and he thus made a
sufficiently favourable entree into college life. A
straightforwardness of character that was stamped upon his face, a
love of humour, and a temper which was more easily appeased than
ruffled made up for some awkwardness and want of savoir faire. He
soon became a not unpopular member of the best set of his year, and
though neither capable of becoming, nor aspiring to become, a
leader, was admitted by the leaders as among their nearer hangers-
on.
Of ambition he had at that time not one particle; greatness, or
indeed superiority of any kind, seemed so far off and
incomprehensible to him that the idea of connecting it with himself
never crossed his mind. If he could escape the notice of all those
with whom he did not feel himself en rapport, he conceived that he
had triumphed sufficiently. He did not care about taking a good
degree, except that it must be good enough to keep his father and
mother quiet. He did not dream of being able to get a fellowship;
if he had, he would have tried hard to do so, for he became so fond
of Cambridge that he could not bear the thought of having to leave
it; the briefness indeed of the season during which his present
happiness was to last was almost the only thing that now seriously
troubled him.
Having less to attend to in the matter of growing, and having got
his head more free, he took to reading fairly well--not because he
liked it, but because he was told he ought to do so, and his natural
instinct, like that of all very young men who are good for anything,
was to do as those in authority told him. The intention at
Battersby was (for Dr Skinner had said that Ernest could never get a
fellowship) that he should take a sufficiently good degree to be
able to get a tutorship or mastership in some school preparatory to
taking orders. When he was twenty-one years old his money was to
come into his own hands, and the best thing he could do with it
would be to buy the next presentation to a living, the rector of
which was now old, and live on his mastership or tutorship till the
living fell in. He could buy a very good living for the sum which
his grandfather's legacy now amounted to, for Theobald had never had
any serious intention of making deductions for his son's maintenance
and education, and the money had accumulated till it was now about
five thousand pounds; he had only talked about making deductions in
order to stimulate the boy to exertion as far as possible, by making
him think that this was his only chance of escaping starvation--or
perhaps from pure love of teasing.
When Ernest had a living of 600 pounds or 700 pounds a year with a
house, and not too many parishioners--why, he might add to his
income by taking pupils, or even keeping a school, and then, say at
thirty, he might marry. It was not easy for Theobald to hit on any
much more sensible plan. He could not get Ernest into business, for
he had no business connections--besides he did not know what
business meant; he had no interest, again, at the Bar; medicine was
a profession which subjected its students to ordeals and temptations
which these fond parents shrank from on behalf of their boy; he
would be thrown among companions and familiarised with details which
might sully him, and though he might stand, it was "only too
possible" that he would fall. Besides, ordination was the road
which Theobald knew and understood, and indeed the only road about
which he knew anything at all, so not unnaturally it was the one he
chose for Ernest.
The foregoing had been instilled into my hero from earliest boyhood,
much as it had been instilled into Theobald himself, and with the
same result--the conviction, namely, that he was certainly to be a
clergyman, but that it was a long way off yet, and he supposed it
was all right. As for the duty of reading hard, and taking as good
a degree as he could, this was plain enough, so he set himself to
work, as I have said, steadily, and to the surprise of everyone as
well as himself got a college scholarship, of no great value, but
still a scholarship, in his freshman's term. It is hardly necessary
to say that Theobald stuck to the whole of this money, believing the
pocket-money he allowed Ernest to be sufficient for him, and knowing
how dangerous it was for young men to have money at command. I do
not suppose it even occurred to him to try and remember what he had
felt when his father took a like course in regard to himself.
Ernest's position in this respect was much what it had been at
school except that things were on a larger scale. His tutor's and
cook's bills were paid for him; his father sent him his wine; over
and above this he had 50 pounds a year with which to keep himself in
clothes and all other expenses; this was about the usual thing at
Emmanuel in Ernest's day, though many had much less than this.
Ernest did as he had done at school--he spent what he could, soon
after he received his money; he then incurred a few modest
liabilities, and then lived penuriously till next term, when he
would immediately pay his debts, and start new ones to much the same
extent as those which he had just got rid of. When he came into his
5000 pounds and became independent of his father, 15 pounds or 20
pounds served to cover the whole of his unauthorised expenditure.
He joined the boat club, and was constant in his attendance at the
boats. He still smoked, but never took more wine or beer than was
good for him, except perhaps on the occasion of a boating supper,
but even then he found the consequences unpleasant, and soon learned
how to keep within safe limits. He attended chapel as often as he
was compelled to do so; he communicated two or three times a year,
because his tutor told him he ought to; in fact he set himself to
live soberly and cleanly, as I imagine all his instincts prompted
him to do, and when he fell--as who that is born of woman can help
sometimes doing?--it was not till after a sharp tussle with a
temptation that was more than his flesh and blood could stand; then
he was very penitent and would go a fairly long while without
sinning again; and this was how it had always been with him since he
had arrived at years of indiscretion.
Even to the end of his career at Cambridge he was not aware that he
had it in him to do anything, but others had begun to see that he
was not wanting in ability and sometimes told him so. He did not
believe it; indeed he knew very well that if they thought him clever
they were being taken in, but it pleased him to have been able to
take them in, and he tried to do so still further; he was therefore
a good deal on the look-out for cants that he could catch and apply
in season, and might have done himself some mischief thus if he had
not been ready to throw over any cant as soon as he had come across
another more nearly to his fancy; his friends used to say that when
he rose he flew like a snipe, darting several times in various
directions before he settled down to a steady straight flight, but
when he had once got into this he would keep to it. _
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