Part 6 (1/2)
He expected, at least, something which should resemble a welcome, or a direction what to do. Nothing of the kind, however, came. While Julian was awaiting some remark, the tutor shuffled, hemmed, and looked ill at ease, as though at a loss how to begin the conversation.
At last Julian, in despair, asked, ”Whereabouts are my rooms, sir?”
”Oh, the porter will show you; you'll find no difficulty about them,”
said the tutor.
”Have you anything further to ask me, Mr Home?” he inquired, after another little pause.
”Nothing whatever, sir,” said Julian, a little indignantly, for he began to feel much like what a volcano may be supposed to do when its crater is filled with snow. ”Have you anything to tell me, sir?”
”No, Mr Home. I hope you'll--that is--I hope--good morning,” he said, as Julian, to relieve him from an unprofitable commonplace, backed towards the door, and made a formal bow.
”Humph,” thought Julian. ”What an icicle; not much good to be got out of that quarter. An intolerably cold reception. It's odd, too, for the man must have heard all about me from Mr Carden.”
As we shall have very little to do with Mr Grayson, we may here allow him a cordial word of apology. What was to Julian the commencement of an epoch, was, be it remembered, to the tutor a commonplace and almost everyday event. The whole of that week he had been occupied in receiving visits from ”the early fathers,” who came up in charge of their sons, and all of whom seemed to expect that he would show the liveliest and tenderest interest in their respective prodigies. Other freshmen had visited him unaccompanied, and some of them seemed rather inclined to patronise him than otherwise. He was a shy man, and always had a painful suspicion at heart that people were laughing at him.
Having lived the life of a student, he had never acquired the polished ease of a man of the world, and had a nervous dread of strangers. His manners were but an icy s.h.i.+eld of self-defence against ridicule, and they suited his somewhat sensitive dignity. He persuaded himself, too, that the ”men” on his side were ”men” in years and discretion as well as name, and that they must stand or fall unaided, since the years of boyish discipline and school constraint were gone by. It never occurred to him that a word spoken in due season might be of incalculable benefit to many of his charge. Being a man of slow sensibilities, he could not sympathise with the enthusiastic temperament of youths like Julian, nor did he ever single out one of his pupils either for partiality or dislike. Yet he was thoroughly kind-hearted, and many remembered his good deeds with generous grat.i.tude. Nor was he wholly wrong in his theory that a tutor often does as much harm by meddling interference as he does by distance and neglect.
When a boy goes to college, eager, quick, impetuous, rejoicing as a giant to run his course, he is generally filled with n.o.ble 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 enn.o.bling 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 G.o.dlike 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 G.o.d'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 ennuye 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 cla.s.sic, 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.”