Grip, who had been, for so many years, my trustful and trustworthy friend, and had taken the warmest interest in my trencher-cap (which he cracked up) and leading-strings (which he pulled off) was immensely pleased with my bachelor's gown, although himself a Benedict. Throughout the whole of my first term, Mr. Luker, the celebrated dogman, had kept his brain at boiling-point (as he confessed most frankly, when I became his admiring client) to make this noble dog his own. With the choicest liver, he waylaid him, and the sweetest female blandishments; and Grip, with either dewlap laughing, accepted all kind overtures, but enfeoffed himself to none of them. At last, a very large sack was made of tarred material, treble thick, and Grip (overcome by his love of the beautiful) was inveigled into it. But no sooner did he find his tail shut in, and feel the Philistines on him, than he rent their toils, like a bursting shell, and flew among them, like a charge of grapnel. Thereupon Mr. Luker came to me, and explained his disappointment about the dog; and assured me, that if he could only have got him, he might have made a hundred pounds of him—to go to Egypt, and do more than England can, put courage into the native animal. And he undertook, if I would come to terms, to pledge his sacred word of honour, that "neither himself nor any other gentleman, in Oxford, or in London, should interfere with the honesty of the dog." Alas, poor dogs, whose honesty depends upon that of their master!
Then Mr. Luker set before me, in words whose eloquence I cannot reproduce, the loss, not only personal but national, not only national but universal, if Grip were allowed to depart this life, without issue, legitimate and guaranteed. To him, the survival of the race of Grip was of infinitely greater moment, than the continuation of the blood of Shakespeare, or Sir Isaac Newton. "Men comes, and they goes," he said, "and the Dooce himself couldn't pick half the ins and the outs of them. But when it comes to dogs, Mr. Up, you can follow the breed, as true as their own noses is."
So we came to a compact,—that he, understanding this elevated subject thoroughly, should provide, for old Grip, as meet a consort as knowledge of the dog-world might produce; and that I should have the pick of baby Grips, whenever I gave a certificate of race, as soon as each family was two months old. Thus I was enabled to fulfil old promises made to sundry friends, especially Sir Roland Twentifold, and Jack Windsor. And I always knew, which pup to choose, by following the law of paternity among dogs, that the father growls most at his noblest son.
Perhaps it was good for us both, (for surely I was idle enough without him) that my old friend, Sir Roland, had made up his mind, to have nothing to do with Oxford.
"When the institutions of the Country are in danger," he said, the last time he came home from Harrow, "a man in my position must not waste three years. The very week after I am twenty-one, I shall be returned for Twentibury. Toggins will vacate the seat, to order; I shall stick to it, till there is a vacancy for the county; and then we put Toggins in again. Upmore, it is quite right that you, who have never been out of leading-strings, should go into them for three years more, and get among fellows who may do you good. But for me, it would be folly to waste three years, and know less at the end than when I began. Why, at twenty-one I should be a 'Junior Sophist,' or whatever they call a man who has passed his Little-go; and I should have to wait a great deal longer, if I meant to equal Chumps. I don't want to equal Chumps; he is a wonderful fellow, and I mean to make him useful. But that is not my line of life. I don't care a penny for the Classics; but I care, every penny I possess, for the reputation of my Country."
And when he came to see me at Oxford, (as he did, one Summer-term) his talk was chiefly to the same effect. "I am afraid you are a very lazy lot," he said; "you don't seem to me, to have anything to live for, except to play cricket, or pull, or smoke, or spoon upon girls in confectioners' shops"—this was meant for me, who had taken him to see, what lovely brown eyes a very nice girl had, at a place where we ate ices; but Master Roland (clever as he thought himself) little knew why I admired those brown eyes; which I may, or may not, have time to explain hereafter—"and when you have done all that, and yawned, and perhaps played a horn out of the window very badly, or cards yet worse, you can go to bed, as happy as if you had done a great day's good. Pish! I am very glad I never joined you. I want bigger games than yours."
This made me feel unhappy, as if I were despised; whereas the wise men of all ages have continually told young men, to take their enjoyment while they can; going far towards proving, at their own expense, that folly has more joy than wisdom. But Sir Roland did not mean all this; and I took it for nothing but his way of talking; because he would have liked to be among us, but saw that he had thrown the chance away. My idea of life was, to spend as much of it for other people's benefit as they permit—in which matter they are most contrary—and the rest for my own good, with honest enjoyment, and the certainty of better things to come; if I do not labour chiefly to anticipate them here. And when I say my own good, I mean, of course, the good of my Country, and relatives, and friends; without which my own could not very well exist.
And after all, politics are a very small part of the general life of most of us. Unless our character becomes involved, and our self-respect grows downward, (like a troublesome toe-nail, that affects our walk) by reason of base things done in our name, against our consent and conscience; and unless we see things given away, which our fathers gave their lives for; and unless we are plagued by nursery Acts of Parliament, very good for the unbreeched—it matters but little to most of us, whether the First Lord of the Treasury be a Conservative, or a Liberal. With such things I never troubled my head, even when I grew to be a Bachelor of Arts; until Sir Roland Twentifold came driving me about them, and his strength of will was tenfold mine.
"Roly," I said, when I had kept my "Master's term," and enjoyed it rarely among old friends, without a stroke of work; "you will never get a bit of good out of me. I am not eloquent, I have no gift of speech; I tried it at the Union once, and when everybody cried out, 'Bravo, Tommy!' I could only laugh, and thank them, and sit down. If my father had been a Rad, when he brought me up, (as he had been in his early days) no doubt I should have been a sound Rad too. And for that matter, so would you, I do believe, if you had been brought up to it. I know at least a dozen very honourable Rads, some of them very clever fellows too; who would no more think of doing anything mean, if they had the government of the Country, than you would yourself, if you had it all your own way. Then, why should we cry out, before we are hurt?"