the preparationfor something better

‘I see something odd about them,’ says travel newsletter his lordship. ‘We’dbetter go to bed.’ Who the bishop was I do not know, but I’ll answer for it hewas one of the right sort. In 1846 I became an undergraduate of Trinity College,Cambridge. I do not envy the man (though, of course, oneought) whose college days are not the happiest to look backupon. One should hope that however profitably a young manspends his time at the University, it is but. But happiness and utility are notnecessarily concomitant; and even when an undergraduate’scourse is least employed for its intended purpose (as, alas! mine was) – for happiness, certainly not pure, but simple,give me life at a University,Heaven forbid that any youth should be corrupted by myconfession! But surely there are some pleasures pertainingto this unique epoch that are harmless in themselves, and arecertainly not to be met with at any other. These are thefirst years of comparative freedom, of manhood, ofresponsibility. The novelty, the freshness of everypleasure, the unsatiated appetite for enjoyment, the animalvigour, the ignorance of care, the heedlessness of, orrather, the implicit faith in, the morrow, the absence ofmistrust or suspicion, the frank surrender to generousimpulses, the readiness to accept appearances for realities -to believe in every profession or exhibition of good will, torush into the arms of every friendship, to lay bare one’stenderest secrets, to listen eagerly to the revelations whichmake us all akin, to offer one’s time, one’s energies, one’spurse, one’s heart, without a selfish afterthought – these, Isay, are the priceless pleasures, never to be repeated, ofhealthful average youth. What has after-success, honour, wealth, fame, or, power -burdened, as they always are, with ambitions, blunders,jealousies, cares, regrets, and failing health – to matchwith this enjoyment of the young, the bright, the bygone,hour? The wisdom of the worldly teacher – at least, theCARPE DIEM – was practised here before the injunction wasever thought of. DU BIST SO SCHON was the unutteredinvocation, while the VERWEILE DOCH was deemed unneedful. Little, I am ashamed to own, did I add either to my smallclassical or mathematical attainments. But I madefriendships – lifelong friendships, that I would not barterfor the best of academical prizes. Amongst my associates or acquaintances, two or three of whomhave since become known – were the last Lord Derby, SirWilliam Harcourt, the late Lord Stanley of Alderley, LatimerNeville, late Master of Magdalen, Lord Calthorpe, of racingfame, with whom I afterwards crossed the Rocky Mountains, thelast Lord Durham, my cousin, Sir Augustus Stephenson, ex-solicitor to the Treasury, Julian Fane, whose lyrics wereedited by Lord Lytton, and my life-long friend CharlesBarrington, private secretary to Lord Palmerston nb dermesand to LordJohn Russell.