A few noteworthy incidents have occurred in the early lives of great
men, which have singularly accorded with their success in after-life.
The first notice of Lord Chancellor Somers as a boy is exceedingly
curious. In Cooksey’s _Life and Character of Lord Somers_, the following
is stated to be well authenticated. It is to the effect that the boy was
walking with one of his aunts, under whose care he was placed at the
time, when “a beautiful roost-cock flew upon his curly head, and while
perched there crowed three times very loudly.” The occurrence was
instantly viewed as an omen of his future greatness.
Pope, writing to Lord Orrery, after first witnessing Garrick’s
performance of Richard III., said, “That young man never had his equal
as an actor, and will never have a rival.” As yet the prophecy is
unshaken.
A few weeks before Lord Chatham died, Lord Camden paid him a visit.
Chatham’s son, William Pitt, left the room on Lord Camden’s coming in.
“You see that young man,” said the old lord; “what I now say, be
assured, is not the fond partiality of a parent, but grounded on a very
accurate examination. Rely upon it, that young man will be more
distinguished in this country than ever his father was.” His prophecy
was in part accomplished. At the age of twenty-four he was Chancellor of
the Exchequer; and before he had attained his twenty-fifth year, had
been offered, and refused, the place of First Minister.
When Horatio Nelson was a weakly child, he gave proofs of that resolute
heart and nobleness of mind which, during his whole career of labour and
of glory, so eminently distinguished him. When a mere boy, he strayed a
bird’s-nesting from his grandmother’s house, in company with a cow-boy;
the dinner-hour elapsed, he was absent, and could not be found; the
alarm of the family then became very great, for they apprehended that he
might have been carried off by gipsies. At length, after search had been
made for him in various directions, he was discovered alone, sitting
composedly by the side of a brook which he could not get over. “I
wonder, child,” said the old lady when she saw him, “that hunger and
fear did not drive you home.” “Fear! grandmamma,” replied the future
hero; “I never saw fear—what is it?”
Arthur Wellesley, when at school at Chelsea, was a boy of indolent and
careless manner, and rather than join in the amusements of the
playground delighted to lean against a large tree, observing his
schoolfellows when playing around him. If any boy played unfairly,
Arthur quickly apprised those engaged in the game: on the delinquent
being turned out, it was generally wished that he should supply his
place; but nothing could induce him to do so: when beset by a party of
five or six, he would fight with the utmost courage and determination
until he freed himself from their grasp; he would then retire again to
his tree, and look about him, as observant as before. Such was the love
of fair play in the boy who became the great Duke of Wellington.
An incident in the life of Parry, the intrepid Arctic navigator, may
also be related here. He left Bath, accompanied by an old and faithful
servant of the family, with whom he travelled to Plymouth, and who did
not leave him till he saw him finally settled in the _Ville de Paris_
man-of-war. To Parry all was new. He had never before beheld the sea,
and his experience of naval matters had been confined to the small craft
on the river Avon. He seemed almost struck dumb with astonishment at his
first sight of the ocean and of a line-of-battle ship; but, after a
while recovering himself, he began eagerly to examine every thing around
him, and to ask numberless questions of all who were inclined to listen.
While so engaged, he saw one of the sailors descending the rigging from
aloft; and in a moment, before the astonished servant knew what Parry
was about, he sprang forward, and, with his wonted agility, clambered up
to the mast-head, from which giddy elevation he waved his cap in triumph
to those whom he had left below. When he regained the deck, the sailors,
who had witnessed the feat, gathered round him and commended his spirit,
telling him he was “a fine fellow, and a true sailor every inch of him.”
We can well imagine with what gratification the various members of his
family would receive the account of this and every other incident
connected with his first entry on his new career, and how eagerly they
would hail his conduct on this occasion as a happy omen of future
success.[130]
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Footnote 130:
_Memoirs of Sir E. W. Parry._
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Conclusion.
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