the schools were now very near ahead of him, and, though not much behindhand with his work, considering the intensity of his exertions in other directions, he was anxious to make the most of the months that were left. he read very hard in vacation, but, when term began again, had to encounter unusual difficulties. his father’s half-hinted warnings against a large acquaintance proved prophetic. in fact, i used to wonder how he ever got his reading done at all, and was often not a little annoyed with many of my own contemporaries, and other younger men still, even to the last batch of freshmen, whose fondness for his society was untempered by any thought of examinations, or honours. not one of them could give a wine, or a breakfast party, without him, and his good-nature kept him from refusing when he found that his presence gave real pleasure. then he never had the heart to turn them out of his rooms, or keep his oak habitually sported; and when that most necessary ceremony[81] for a reading man had been performed, it was not respected as it should have been. my rooms were on the same staircase, half a flight below his (which looked into the quadrangle, while mine looked out over the back of the college), so that i could hear all that happened. our college lectures were all over at one. it was well for him if he had secured quiet up to that hour; but, in any case, regularly within a few minutes after the clock had struck, i used to hear steps on the stairs, and a pause before his oak. if it was sported, kicking or knocking would follow, with imploring appeals, “now, old ’un” (the term of endearment by which he went in college), “do open—i know you’re in—only for two minutes.” a short persistence seldom failed; and soon other men followed on the same errand, “for a few minutes only,” till it was time for lunch, to which he would then be dragged off in one of their rooms, and his oak never get sported again till late at night. up to his last term in college this went on, though not to quite the same extent; and even then there was one incorrigible young idler, who never failed in his “open sesame,” and wasted more of my brother’s time than all the rest of the college. but who could be angry with him? he was one of the smallest and most delicate men i ever saw, weighing about 8st. l0lb., a capital rider, and as brave as a lion, though we always called him “the mouse.” full of mother wit, but utterly uncultivated,[82] it was a perfect marvel how he ever matriculated, and his answers, and attempts at construing, in lecture were fabulous—full of good impulse, but fickle as the wind; reckless, spendthrift, fast, in constant trouble with tradesmen, proctors, and the college authorities. but no tradesman, when it came to the point, had the heart to “court,” or proctor to rusticate him; and the dean, though constantly in wrath at his misdeeds, never got beyond warnings, and “gating.” so he held on, until his utter, repeated, and hopeless failure to pass his “smalls,” brought his college career to its inevitable end. unfortunately for my brother’s reading, that career coincided with his third year, and his society had an extraordinary fascination for the mouse. the perfect contrast between them, in mind and body, may probably account for this; but i think the little man had also a sort of longing to be decent and respectable, and, in the midst of his wildest scrapes, felt that his intimacy with the best oar and cricketer in the college, who was also on good terms with the dons, and paid his bills, and could write greek verses, kept him in touch with the better life of the place, and was a constant witness to himself of his intention to amend, some day. they had one taste in common, however, which largely accounted for my brother’s undoubted affection for the little “ne’er do weel,” a passion for animals. the mouse kept two terriers, who were to him as children, lying in his bosom by night, and eating from his plate by day.[83] dogs were strictly forbidden in college, and the vigilance of the porter was proof against all the other pets. but the mouse’s terriers defied it. from living on such intimate terms with their master, they had become as sharp as undergraduates. they were never seen about the quadrangles in the day-time, and knew the sound and sight of dean, tutor, and porter, better than any freshman. when the mouse went out of college, they would stay behind on the staircase till they were sure he must be fairly out in the street, and then scamper across the two quadrangles, and out of the gate, as if their lives depended on the pace. in the same way, on returning, they would repeat the process, after first looking cautiously in at the gate to see that the porter was safe in his den. but after dusk they were at their ease at once, and would fearlessly trot over the forbidden grass of the inner quad, or sit at the provost’s door, or on the hall steps, and romp with anybody not in a master’s gown. so, even when his master’s knock remained unanswered, crib’s or jet’s beseeching whine and scratch would always bring my brother to the door. he could not resist dogs, or children.
i have always laid my brother’s loss of his first class at the door of his young friends, but chiefly on the mouse, for that little man’s delinquencies culminated in the most critical moment of the schools. the saturday before paper work began he had seduced george out for[84] an evening stroll with him, and of course took him through a part of the town which was famous for town-and-gown rows. here, a baker carrying a tray shouldered the mouse into the gutter. the mouse thereupon knocked the baker’s tray off his head. the baker knocked the little man over, and my brother floored the baker, who sat in the mud, and howled “gown, gown.” in two minutes a mob was on them, and they had to retreat fighting, which, owing to the reckless pugnacity of his small comrade, was an operation that tried all my brother’s coolness and strength to the utmost. by the help, however, of crib, who created timely diversions by attacking the heels of the town at critical moments, he succeeded in bringing the mouse home, capless, with his gown in shreds, and his nose and mouth bleeding, but otherwise unhurt, at the cost to himself of a bad black-eye. the undergraduate remedies of leeches, raw beef-steak, and paint were diligently applied during the next thirty-six hours, but with very partial success; and he had to appear in white tie and bands before the examiners, on the monday morning, with decided marks of battle on his face. in the evening, he wrote home:—
“my dear father,
“the first day of paper work is over; i am sorry to say that i have not satisfied myself at all. although logic was my strongest point as i thought, yet through nervousness, or some other cause, i acquitted myself in a very slovenly[85] manner; and i feel nervous and down-hearted about the remainder of the work, because i know that i am not so strong on those points as i was in logic. i feel inclined myself to put off my degree, but i should like to know what you think about it; i could certainly get through, but i do not think i should do myself any credit, and i am sure i should not satisfy myself. i shall continue at the paper work till i hear from you. i should be very willing to give up any plans which i have formed for the vacation, and read quietly at home; and i am sure i could put the affair beyond a doubt with a little more reading. but if you think i had better get rid of it at once, i will continue. i am in very good health, only, as i tell you, nervous and out of spirits.
“yours affectionately,
“g. e. hughes.”
his nervousness was out of place, as i ascertained afterwards from his tutor, that the examiners were very much pleased with his paper work. indeed, i think that he himself soon got over his nervousness, and was well satisfied with his prospects when his turn came for viva voce examination. i was foolish enough to choose the same day for sitting in the schools, a ceremony one had to perform in the year preceding one’s own examination. it involved attendance during the whole day, listening to the attack of the four experts in row at the long table, on the intellectual works of the single unfortunate, who sat facing them on the other side. this, when the victim happens to be your brother, is a severe and needless trial of nerves and patience.
[86]
for some time, however, i was quite happy, as george construed his greek plays capitally, and had his aristotle at his finger ends. he was then handed on to the third examiner, who opened livy and put him on somewhere in the bewildering samnite wars, and, when he had construed, closed the book as if satisfied, just putting him a casual question as to the end of the campaign, and its effect on home politics at rome. no answer, for george was far too downright to attempt a shot; and, as he told me afterwards, had not looked at this part of his livy for more than a year. of course other questions followed, and then a searching examination in this part of the history, which showed that my brother knew his arnold’s rome well enough, but had probably taken up his livy on trust, which was very nearly the truth. i never passed a more unpleasant hour, for i happened to be up in this part of livy, and, if the theories of mesmerism were sound, should certainly have been able to inspire him with the answers. as it was, i was on the rack all the time, and left the schools in a doleful state of mind. i felt sure that he must lose his first class, and told the group of our men so, who gathered in the schools quadrangle to see the honours list posted. the mouse, on the other hand, swore roundly that he was certain of his first, offering to back his opinion to any amount. i did not bet, but proved to be right. his name came out in the second class, there being only five in the first; and we[87] walked back to oriel a disconsolate band; the mouse, i really believe, being more cast down than any of the party. i never told him that in my opinion he was himself not a little responsible.
he was obliged to take his own name off the books shortly afterwards, and started for the cape, leaving crib and jet, the only valuable possession i imagine that he had in the world, to my brother. they were lovingly tended to a good old age. their old master joined the mounted rifles, in which corps (we heard at second hand, for he never wrote a letter) he fully maintained his character for fine riding and general recklessness, till he broke down altogether, and died some two years later. it is a sad little history, which carries its own moral.
