"And here was Labour his own bond slave; Hope
That never set the pains against the prize;
Idleness halting with his weary clog,
And poor misguided Shame and witless Fear
And simple Pleasure foraging for Death."
Wordsworth. _The Prelude_.
Although Julian did not immediately feel, and had not particular reason
to dread, the results of Brogten's displeasure, yet it was very annoying
to be on the same stair-case with him. It was a constant reminder that
there was one person, and he near at hand, who regarded him as an enemy.
For a time, indeed, Brogten tried a few practical jokes on his
neighbour and quondam school-fellow, which gratified for the moment his
desire for revenge. Thus he would empty the little jug of milk which
stood every day before Julian's door into the great earthenware pitcher
of water which was usually to be found in the same position or he would
make a surreptitious entry into his rooms, and amuse himself by
upturning chairs and tables, turning pictures with their faces to the
wall, and doing sometimes considerable damage and mischief. Once
Julian, on preparing to get into bed, found a neat little garden laid
out for his reception, between the sheets--flower-beds and gravel walks,
all complete. This course of petty annoyance he bore, though not
without a great struggle, in dignified and contemptuous silence. He
looked Brogten firmly in the face, whenever they chanced to meet, and
never gave him the triumph of perceiving that his small arts of vexation
had taken the slightest effect. He merely smiled when the hot-headed
Kennedy suggested retaliation, and would not allow Lillyston to try the
effect of remonstrance. It was not long before Brogten became
thoroughly ashamed that his malice should be tried and despised, and he
would have proceeded to more overt acts of hatred had he not been one
day informed by Lillyston that the Hartonians generally had heard of his
proceedings, and that if he continued them he would be universally cut.
For, indeed, such practical jokes as Brogten attempted are now almost
unknown at Camford, and every man's room is considered sacred in his
absence. But although he desisted from this kind of malice, it was not
long before Brogten was generally shunned by his former schoolfellows.
He developed into such a thorough blackguard that, had it not been for
his merits as an oarsman and a cricketer, even the countenance of Bruce
and Lord Fitzurse would have been insufficient to prevent him from being
deserted by all the undergraduates of Saint Werner's, except that small
and wretched class who take refuge from vacuity in the society of cads,
dog-fanciers, and grooms.
Yet Brogten's Harton education, idle as he had been, sufficed to make
him see that he was sinking lower and lower, not only in the world's
estimation, but in his own. Unable to make the mental effort which the
least approach to study would have required, he suffered his few
intellectual faculties to grow more and more gross and stolid, and spent
his mornings in smoking, drinking beer, or lounging in the rooms of some
one as idle and discontented as himself. It was sad to see the change
which even in his first term came over his face; it was not the change
from boyhood to youth which gave a manlier beauty to the almost feminine
delicacy of Julian's features, but it was a look in which effrontery
supplied the place of self-dependence, and coarseness was the substitute
for strength. Beer in the morning, and brandy in the evening, cards,
and low company, and vice, made him sink into a degradation from which
he was only redeemed by the still lingering ambition to excel in
athletic sports, and by the manly exercises which rescued him for a time
from such dissipation as would have incapacitated him from shining in
the boat or in the field.
Lillyston was a singular contrast with Brogten; originally they were
about equal in ability, position, and strength. They had entered school
in the same form, and, until Julian came, they had generally been placed
near each other in the quarterly examinations. Both of them were strong
and active, and without being clever or brilliant they were both
possessed of respectable powers of mind. Both of them had been in the
Harton eleven, and now each of them was already in the second boat of
their respective clubs; but with all these similarities Lillyston was
beginning to be one of the men most liked and respected among all the
best sets of his own year, and was reading for honours with a fair
chance of ultimate success, while Brogten was looked on as a low and
stupid fellow, whose company was discreditable, and whose doings were a
disgrace to his old school.
The two presented much the same contrast as was also visible between
Julian and Bruce. While Julian and Lillyston had mutually influenced
each other for good, while they had been growing up together in warm and
honourable friendship, thinking whatsoever things are pure and true and
of good report, the other two had only fostered each other's vanity, and
rather encouraged than checked each other's failings. At school they
were always exchanging the grossest flattery, and the lessons and
tendencies which each had derived from the other's society were lessons
of weakness and sin alone. And now Bruce was looked on at Saint
Werner's as a vain, empty fellow, living on a reputation for cleverness
which he had never justified,--low, dressy, and extravagant, despised by
the reading men, (whose society he affected to avoid), for his weakness
and want of resolution; by the real athletes for his deficiency in
strength and pluck, and by the aristocrats, (whose rooms he most
frequented), for the ill-concealed obscurity of his father's origin, and
the ill-understood source of his wealth. Since he first astonished the
men of his year by the brilliancy of his entertainments and the
gorgeousness of his rooms, he had steadily declined in general
estimation among all whose regard was most really valuable, and he would
have found few among his immense acquaintance who cared as much for
_him_ as they did for his good dinners and recherche wines. Julian, on
the other hand, who knew far fewer men, could count among his new and
old companions some real friends--friends who would cling to him in
adversity as well as in prosperity, and who loved him for his own sake,
whether his fortunes were in sunshine or in cloud. First among these
newly-acquired friends he counted the names of Owen and Kennedy, among
the old ones of Lillyston and De Vayne. But, besides these, he had been
sought out by all the most distinguished men among the Saint Werner's
undergraduates, while Mr Admer, who improved immensely on acquaintance,
had introduced him to some of the most genial and least exclusive dons.
Even Mr Grayson used to address him with something approaching to
warmth, and so high was his general reputation, that he had no
difficulty in making the acquaintance of every man of his college, whom
he in the least cared to see or know.
Brogten was one of those who perceived these contrasts, and the bitter
intense malice with which they filled him was one of the evil feelings
which helped to drag him down from following out his occasional
resolutions for better things.
Strange that a few weeks could produce such differences but so it was.
At the end of those few weeks Bruce went back to take part in his
mother's splendid theatricals and routs, with a consciousness of
neglected opportunities and wasted times even if his conscience laid no
worse sins to his charge. Brogten went back, cursing himself and all
around him, with the violent self-accusations of a reprobate obstinacy,
a man in vice, though hardly more than a boy in years. Kennedy went
back happy on the whole, happy above all in the certainty that he had
made in Julian one noble friend. Lillyston went back happy,
well-pleased with the sense of duty done, and the prime of life well and
innocently enjoyed. And Julian went back in the same train with De
Vayne, happy too, with a mind strengthened and expanded, with knowledge
deepened and widened, with an honourable ambition opening before him,
and friends and a fair position already won. All these results had
sprung from those few and swiftly-gliding weeks.
The Christmas time passed very pleasantly for the Homes. They had few
relations, and Lady Vinsear had dropped all intercourse with them, but
they were happy in themselves. Violet, too, had the pleasure of forming
an acquaintance with Kennedy's sister Eva, who, with her aunt, happened
to be paying a short visit to a family in the neighbourhood. Frank and
Cyril were at home for their holidays, and the house and garden at
Ildown rang all day long with their merry voices and incessant games.
Old Christmas observances were not yet obsolete in Ildown, and Yule logs
and royal feasts were the order of the day. The bright, clear, frosty
air--the sparkling sea and freshening wind--a lovely country, a united
and cheerful family, and the delights of moderate study, made the weeks
speed by in pure enjoyment. With his mother, his brothers, and Violet,
Julian felt the need of no other society, but he corresponded with
Kennedy and other college friends, and saw a great deal of Lord De
Vayne, who continually rode over to pass the Sunday with them at Ildown,
and sometimes persuaded all the Homes to come and spend the day with him
and his mother in the beautiful but lonely grounds of Other Hall.
Whenever they accepted the invitation, the young and pensive viscount
seemed another man. He would join in the boys' mirth with the most
joyous alacrity, and talked to Violet with such vivacity that none who
saw him would believe what a shade of melancholy usually hung over his
mind. His life had been spent in seclusion, and he had never yet seen
any to whom his heart turned with such affection as he felt for Julian
and Violet. His mother observed it, and often thought that if she saw
in Violet Home the future Lady De Vayne, a source of happiness was laid
up for her only son, which would fulfil, and more than fulfil, her
fondest prayers. It never occurred to her to think that he would do
better to choose a bride among the noblest and wealthiest houses of
England, rather than in the orphan family of a poor and unknown
clergyman. What she sought for him was goodness and usefulness, not
grandeur or riches; a lonely and sorrowful life had taught her at how
slight a value rank and wealth are to be reckoned in any high or true
estimate of the meaning of human life; nor did it add greatly to her
desire for such a match that Violet, with her bright hair, and soft
eyes, and graceful figure--with her sweet musical voice, and the
rippling silver of her laugh, and the rich imagery which filled her
fancy--might well have fulfilled the ideal of a poet's dream. But
Violet was still very young, and none of Lady De Vayne's hopes had ever
for an instant crossed her mind.
Julian was at this time, and had been for some months, intensely
occupied with the thought and desire of winning the Clerkland
scholarship, a university scholarship of 60 pounds a year, open to
general competition among all the undergraduates of less than one year's
standing. This scholarship was the favourite success of Camford life.
It stamped at once a man's position as one of the most prominent
scholars of his year, and as the names of many remarkable men were found
in the list of those who had already obtained it, it gave a strong
prestige of future distinction and success. Julian had a peculiar
reason for longing to gain it, because, with his Harton scholarship, it
would not only enable him at once to enter his name as a pensioner,
instead of a sizar, at Saint Werner's, but even make him independent of
all help from his family and guardians. There would have been reasons
sufficient to account for his passionate desire for this particular
distinction, even independently of his natural wish to justify the
general opinion of his abilities, and the eager ambition caused by the
formidable numbers of the other competitors. In short, at this time, to
obtain the Clerkland scholarship was the most prominent personal desire
in Julian's heart, and could some genius have suddenly offered him the
fulfilment of any one wish, this would undoubtedly have been the first
to spring to his lips. He looked with emulation, almost with envy, on
those who had won it before him; he almost knew by heart the list of
Clerkland scholars; and when he returned to Camford, constantly
discussed the chances of success in favour of the different candidates.
Do not blame him; his motives were all high and blameless, although he
at length turned over this thought so often in his mind as to recur to
it with almost selfish iteration, and to regard success in this
particular struggle as the one thing wanting to complete, or even to
create his happiness.
He could not refrain from mentioning it at home, although, for the sake
of preventing disappointment, he generally avoided dwelling on any of
his school or college struggles. Deprecating his own abilities, it made
him doubly anxious to find that not only did his Saint Werner's
contemporaries regard him as the favourite candidate, and bet upon him
in the sporting circles, (although Brogten furiously took the largest
odds against him), but, what was worse, his own family, always proud of
him, seemed to regard his triumph as certain. Thus circumstanced, and
most fondly avoiding every possibility of causing pain or disappointment
to that thrice-loved circle, of which he regarded himself as the natural
protector and head, he was more than ever determined to do his very
utmost to prevent failure, and give them the lasting pride and pleasure
which they would all receive by seeing his name in the public papers as
Clerkland scholar.
"Come, Julian, and let's have a row or a sail," said Cyril one morning
to him, as he sat at work. "Frank and I have nothing to do to-day."
"Not to-day, Cyril, my boy. I really must do some work; you know De
Vayne made me ride with him yesterday, and I've done very little the
last day or two."
"I wish I liked work as you do, Julian."
"It isn't only that I like work, (though I do)," said Julian; "but you
know a good deal depends on it."
"Oh! I know!" said Cyril; "you mean the Clerkland scholarship; but
never mind, Julian, Lord De Vayne told me you were sure of that."
"Did he?" said Julian, a little anxiously; "then for goodness' sake,
don't believe him. It's very kind of him to say so--but he's quite
mistaken."
"Ah, you always say so beforehand, you know. You used to say that about
the Harton scholarship, Julian, and yet you see? Do come."
"Well, I'll come," said Julian, smiling a little sadly. "But, Cyril,
don't, pray, say anything of that kind to mother or to Violet, for if I
should fail it would make me doubly sad."
Cyril, thanking Julian, and still laughingly prophesying success, ran
out to tell Frank; and, when he had gone, Julian stamped his foot
passionately on the ground, and said half-aloud, "I _will_ get this
Clerkland, I _will_ get it, I _must_ get it."
He paused a moment, and then, raising his eyes and hands to heaven,
prayed that "God would do for him that which was best for his highest
welfare;" but even as he prayed, he secretly determined that obtaining
the Clerkland scholarship was, and must necessarily be, the best piece
of worldly prosperity that could possibly happen to him.