Our hero soon began to feel that he was contracting his first
college friendship. The great, strong, badly-dressed,
badly-appointed servitor, who seemed almost at the same time
utterly reckless of, and nervously alive to, the opinion of all
around him, with his bursts of womanly tenderness and Berserker
rage, alternating like storms and sunshine of a July day on a
high moorland, his keen sense of humor and appreciation of all
the good things of life, the use and enjoyment of which he was so
steadily denying himself from high principle, had from the first
seized powerfully on all Tom's sympathies, and was daily gaining
more hold upon him.
Blessed is the man who has the gift of making friends; for it is
one of God's best gifts. It involves many things, but above all,
the power of going out of oneself, and seeing and appreciating
whatever is noble and living in another man.
But even to him who has the gift, it is often a great puzzle to
find out whether a man is really a friend or not. The following
is recommended as a test in the case of any man about whom you
are not quite sure; especially if he should happen to have more
of this world's goods, either in the shape of talents, rank or
money, or what not, than you.
Fancy the man stripped stark naked of every thing in the world,
except an old pair of trousers and a shirt, for decency's sake,
without even a name to him, and dropped down in the middle of
Holborn or Piccadilly. Would you go up to him then and there, and
lead him out from amongst the cabs and omnibuses, and take him to
your own home and feed him and clothe him, and stand by him
against all the world, to your last sovereign, and your last leg
of mutton? If you wouldn't do this you have no right to call him
by the sacred name of friend. If you would, the odds are that he
would do the same by you, and you may count yourself a rich man.
For, probably were friendship expressible by, or convertible
into, current coin of the realm, one such friend would be worth
to a man, at least 100,000L. How many millionaires are there in
England? I can't even guess; but more by a good many, I fear,
than there are men who have ten real friends. But friendship is
not expressible or convertible. It is more precious than wisdom;
and wisdom "cannot be gotten for gold, nor shall rubies be
mentioned in comparison thereof." Not all the riches that ever
came out of earth and sea are worth the assurance of one such
real abiding friendship in your heart of hearts.
But for the worth of a friendship commonly so called--meaning
thereby a sentiment founded on the good dinners, good stories,
opera stalls, and days' shooting you have gotten or hope to get
out of a man, the snug things in his gift, and his powers of
procuring enjoyment of one kind or another to miserable body or
intellect--why, such a friendship as that is to be appraised
easily enough, if you find it worth your while; but you will have
to pay your pound of flesh for it one way or another--you may
take your oath of that. If you follow my advice, you will take a
10L note down, and retire to your crust of bread and liberty.
Tom was rapidly falling into friendship with Hardy. He was not
bound hand and foot and carried away captive yet, but he was
already getting deep in the toils.
One evening he found himself as usual at Hardy's door about eight
o'clock. The oak was open, but he got no answer when he knocked
at the inner door. Nevertheless he entered, having quite got over
all shyness or ceremony by this time. The room was empty, but two
tumblers and the black bottle stood on the table, and the kettle
was hissing away on the hob. "Ah," thought Tom, "he expects me, I
see;" so he turned his back to the fire and made himself at home.
A quarter of an hour passed, and still Hardy did not return.
"Never knew him out so long before at this time of night,"
thought Tom. "Perhaps he's at some party. I hope so. It would do
him a good deal of good; and I know he might go out if he liked.
Next term, see if I won't make him more sociable. It's a stupid
custom that freshmen don't give parties in their first term, or
I'd do it at once. Why won't he be more sociable? No, after all
sociable isn't the word; he's a very sociable fellow at bottom.
What in the world is it that he wants?"
And so Tom balanced himself on the two hind legs of one of the
Windsor chairs, and betook himself to pondering what it was
exactly which ought to be added to Hardy to make him an
unexceptional object of hero-worship; when the man himself came
suddenly into the room, slamming his oak behind him, and casting
his cap and gown fiercely on to the sofa before he noticed our
hero.
Tom jumped up at once. "My dear fellow, what's the matter?" he
said; "I'm sorry I came in; shall I go?"
"No--don't go--sit down," said Hardy, abruptly; and then began to
smoke fast without saying another word.
Tom waited a few minutes watching for him, and then broke silence
again.--
"I am sure something is the matter, Hardy; you look dreadfully
put out--what is it?"
"What is it?" said Hardy, bitterly; "Oh, nothing at all--nothing
at all; a gentle lesson to servitors as to the duties of their
position; not pleasant, perhaps, for a youngster to swallow; but
I ought to be used to such things at any rate by this time. I beg
your pardon for seeming put out."
"Do tell me what it is," said Tom. "I'm sure I am very sorry for
anything which annoys you."
"I believe you are," said Hardy, looking at him, "and I'm much
obliged to you for it. What do you think of that fellow Chanter's
offering Smith, the junior servitor, a boy just come up, a bribe
of ten pounds to prick him in at chapel when he isn't there?"
"The dirty blackguard," said Tom; "by Jove he ought to be cut. He
will be cut, won't he? You don't mean that he really did offer
him the money?"
"I do," said Hardy, "and the poor little fellow came here after
hall to ask me what he should do with tears in his eyes."
"Chanter ought to be horsewhipped in quad," said Tom. "I will go and
call on Smith directly. What did you do?"
"Why, as soon as I could master myself enough not to lay hands on
him," said Hardy, "I went across to his rooms where he was
entertaining a select party, and just gave him his choice between
writing an abject apology then and there to my dictation, or
having the whole business laid before the principal to-morrow
morning. He chose the former alternative, and I made him write
such a letter as I don't think he will forget in a hurry."
"That's good," said Tom; "but he ought to have been horsewhipped
too. It makes one's fingers itch to think of it. However, Smith's
all right now."
"All right!" said Hardy, bitterly. "I don't know what you call
'all right.' Probably the boy's self-respect is hurt for life.
You can't salve over this sort of thing with an apology-plaster."
"Well, I hope it isn't so bad as that," said Tom.
"Wait till you've tried it yourself," said Hardy, "I'll tell you
what it is; one or two things of this sort--and I've seen many
more than that in my time--sink down into you, and leave marks
like a red-hot iron."
"But, Hardy, now, really, did you ever know a bribe offered
before?" said Tom.
Hardy thought for a moment. "No," said he, "I can't say that I
have; but things as bad, or nearly as bad, often." He paused a
minute, and then went on; "I tell you, if it were not for my dear
old father, who would break his heart over it, I would cut the
whole concern to-morrow. I've been near doing it twenty times,
and enlisting in a good regiment."
"Would it be any better there, though?" said Tom, gently, for he
felt that he was in a gunpowder magazine.
"Better! yes, it must be better," said Hardy; "at any rate the
youngsters there are marchers and fighters; besides, one would be
in the ranks and know one's place. Here one is by way of being a
gentleman--God save the mark! A young officer, be he never such a
fop or profligate, must take his turn at guard, and carry his
life in his hand all over the world wherever he is sent, or he
has to leave the service. Service!--yes, that's the word; that's
what makes every young red-coat respectable, though he mayn't
think it. He is serving his Queen, his country--the devil, too,
perhaps--very likely--but still the other is some sort. He is
bound to it, sworn to it, must do it; more or less. But a
youngster up here, with health, strength, and heaps of
money--bound to no earthly service, and choosing that of the
devil and his own lusts, because some service or other he must
have--I want to know where else under the sun you can see such a
sight as that?"
Tom mumbled something to the effect that it was by no means
necessary that men at Oxford, either rich or poor, need embark in
the service which had been alluded to; which remark, however,
only seemed to add fuel to the fire. For Hardy now rose from his
chair, and began striding up and down the room, his right arm
behind his back, the hand gripping his left elbow, his left hand
brought round in front close to his body, and holding the bowl of
his pipe, from which he was blowing off clouds in puffs like an
engine just starting with a heavy train. The attitude was one of
a man painfully trying to curb himself. His eyes burnt like coals
under his deep brows. The man altogether looked awful, and Tom
felt particularly uncomfortable and puzzled. After a turn or two,
Hardy burst out again--
"And who are they, I should like to know, these fellows who dare
to offer bribes to gentlemen? How do they live? What do they do
for themselves or for this University? By heaven, they are
ruining themselves body and soul, and making this place, which
was meant for the training of learned and brave and righteous
Englishmen, a lie and a snare. And who tries to stop them? Here
and there a don is doing his work like a man; the rest are either
washing their hands of the business, and spending their time in
looking after those who don't want looking after, and cramming
those who would be better without the cramming, or else standing
by, cap in hand, and shouting, 'Oh young men of large fortune and
great connexions! You future dispensers of the good things of
this Realm, come to our colleges and all shall be made pleasant!'
and the shout is taken up by undergraduates, and tradesmen, and
horse-dealers, and cricket-cads, and dog-fanciers 'Come to us,
and us, and us, and we will be your toadies!' Let them; let them
toady and cringe to their precious idols, till they bring this
noble old place down about their ears. Down it will come, down it
must come, for down it ought to come, if it can find nothing
better to worship than rank, money, and intellect. But to live in
the place and love it too, and to see all this going on, and
groan and writhe under it, and not be able--"
At this point in his speech Hardy came to the turning-point in
his march at the farther end of the room, just opposite his
crockery cupboard; but, instead of turning as usual, he paused,
let go the hold on his left elbow, poised himself for a moment to
get a purchase, and then dashed his right fist full against one
of the panels. Crash went the slight deal boards, as if struck
with a sledge-hammer, and crash went glass and crockery behind.
Tom jumped to his feet, in doubt whether an assault on him would
not follow, but the fit was over, and Hardy looked round at him
with a rueful and deprecating face. For a moment Tom tried to
look solemn and heroic, as befitted the occasion; but somehow,
the sudden contrast flashed upon him, and sent him off, before he
could think about it, into a roar of laughter, ending in a
violent fit of coughing; for in his excitement he had swallowed a
mouthful of smoke. Hardy, after holding out for a moment, gave in
to the humour of the thing, and the appealing look passed into a
smile, and the smile into a laugh, as he turned towards his
damaged cupboard, and began opening it carefully in a legitimate
manner.
"I say, old fellow," said Tom, coming up, "I should think you
must find it an expensive amusement. Do you often walk into your
cupboard like that?"
"You see, Brown, I am naturally a man of a very quick temper."
"So it seems" said Tom; "but doesn't it hurt your knuckles? I
should have something softer put up for me if I were you; your
bolster, with a velvet cap on it, or a doctor of divinity's gown,
now."
"You be hanged," said Hardy, as he disengaged the last splinter,
and gently opened the ill-used cupboard door. "Oh, thunder and
turf, look here," he went on, as the state of affairs inside
disclosed itself to his view; "how many times have I told that
thief George never to put anything on this side of my cupboard!
Two tumblers smashed to bits, and I've only four in the world.
Lucky we had those two out on the table."
"And here's a great piece out of the sugar-basin, you see," said
Tom, holding up the broken article; "and, let me see, one cup and
three saucers gone to glory."
"Well, it's lucky it's no worse," said Hardy, peering over his
shoulder; "I had a lot of odd saucers, and there's enough left to
last my time. Never mind the smash, let's sit down again and be
reasonable."
Tom sat down in high good humor. He felt himself more on an
equality with his host than he had done before, and even thought
he might venture on a little mild expostulation or lecturing. But
while he was considering how to improve the occasion Hardy began
himself.
"I shouldn't go so furious, Brown, if I didn't care about the
place so much. I can't bear to think of it as a sort of learning
machine, in which I am to grind for three years to get certain
degrees which I want. No--this place, and Cambridge, and our
great schools, are the heart of dear old England. Did you ever
read Secretary Cook's address to the Vice-Chancellor, Doctors,
&c. in 1636--more critical times, perhaps, even than ours? No?
Well, listen then;" and he went to his bookcase, took down a
book, and read; "'The very truth is, that all wise princes
respect the welfare of their estates, and consider that schools
and universities are (as in a body) the noble and vital parts,
which being vigorous and sound send good blood and active spirits
into the veins and arteries, which cause health and strength; or,
if feeble or ill-affected, corrupt all the vital parts; whereupon
grow diseases, and in the end, death itself.' A low standard up
here for ten years may corrupt half the parishes in the kingdom."
"That's true," said Tom, "but-"
"Yes; and so one has a right to be jealous for Oxford. Every
Englishman ought to be."
"But I really think, Hardy, that you're unreasonable," said Tom,
who had no mind to be done out of his chance of lecturing his
host.
"I am very quick-tempered," said Hardy, "as I told you just now."
"But you're not fair on the fast set up here. They can't help
being rich men, after all."
"No; so one oughtn't to expect them to be going through the eyes
of needles, I suppose. But do you mean to say you ever heard of a
more dirty, blackguard business than this?" said Hardy; "he ought
to be expelled the University."
"I admit that," said Tom; "but it was only one of them, you know.
I don't believe there's another man in the set who would have
done it."
"Well, I hope not," said Hardy; "I may be hard on them--as you
say, they can't help being rich. But, now, I don't want you to
think me a violent one-sided fanatic; shall I tell you some of my
experiences up here--some passages from the life of a servitor?"
"Do," said Tom, "I should like nothing so well."