Maternal anxiety--The baronet--Little zest--Country life--Mr.
Speaker!--The craving--Spirited address--An author.
After a short pause my host resumed his narration. 'Though I was never
sent to school, my education was not neglected on that account; I had
tutors in various branches of knowledge, under whom I made a tolerable
progress; by the time I was eighteen I was able to read most of the Greek
and Latin authors with facility; I was likewise, to a certain degree, a
mathematician. I cannot say that I took much pleasure in my studies; my
chief aim in endeavouring to accomplish my tasks was to give pleasure to
my beloved parent, who watched my progress with anxiety truly maternal.
My life at this period may be summed up in a few words: I pursued my
studies, roamed about the woods, walked the green lanes occasionally,
cast my fly in a trout stream, and sometimes, but not often, rode
a-hunting with my uncle. A considerable part of my time was devoted to
my mother, conversing with her and reading to her; youthful companions I
had none, and as to my mother, she lived in the greatest retirement,
devoting herself to the superintendence of my education, and the practice
of acts of charity; nothing could be more innocent than this mode of
life, and some people say that in innocence there is happiness, yet I
can't say that I was happy. A continual dread overshadowed my mind, it
was the dread of my mother's death. Her constitution had never been
strong, and it had been considerably shaken by her last illness; this I
knew, and this I saw--for the eyes of fear are marvellously keen. Well,
things went on in this way till I had come of age; my tutors were then
dismissed, and my uncle the baronet took me in hand, telling my mother
that it was high time for him to exert his authority; that I must see
something of the world, for that, if I remained much longer with her, I
should be ruined. "You must consign him to me," said he, "and I will
introduce him to the world." My mother sighed and consented; so my uncle
the baronet introduced me to the world, took me to horse-races and to
London, and endeavoured to make a man of me according to his idea of the
term, and in part succeeded. I became moderately dissipated--I say
moderately, for dissipation had but little zest for me.
'In this manner four years passed over. It happened that I was in London
in the height of the season with my uncle, at his house; one morning he
summoned me into the parlour, he was standing before the fire, and looked
very serious. "I have had a letter," said he; "your mother is very ill."
I staggered, and touched the nearest object to me; nothing was said for
two or three minutes, and then my uncle put his lips to my ear and
whispered something. I fell down senseless. My mother was . . . I
remember nothing for a long time--for two years I was out of my mind; at
the end of this time I recovered, or partly so. My uncle the baronet was
very kind to me; he advised me to travel, he offered to go with me. I
told him he was very kind, but I would rather go by myself. So I went
abroad, and saw, amongst other things, Rome and the Pyramids. By
frequent change of scene my mind became not happy, but tolerably
tranquil. I continued abroad some years, when, becoming tired of
travelling, I came home, found my uncle the baronet alive, hearty, and
unmarried, as he still is. He received me very kindly, took me to
Newmarket, and said that he hoped by this time I was become quite a man
of the world; by his advice I took a house in town, in which I lived
during the season. In summer I strolled from one watering-place to
another; and, in order to pass the time, I became very dissipated.
'At last I became as tired of dissipation as I had previously been of
travelling, and I determined to retire to the country, and live on my
paternal estate; this resolution I was not slow in putting into effect; I
sold my house in town, repaired and refurnished my country house, and,
for at least ten years, lived a regular country life; I gave dinner
parties, prosecuted poachers, was charitable to the poor, and now and
then went into my library; during this time I was seldom or never visited
by the magic impulse, the reason being that there was nothing in the wide
world for which I cared sufficiently to move a finger to preserve it.
When the ten years, however, were nearly ended, I started out of bed one
morning in a fit of horror, exclaiming, "Mercy, mercy! what will become
of me? I am afraid I shall go mad. I have lived thirty-five years and
upwards without doing anything; shall I pass through life in this manner?
Horror!" And then in rapid succession I touched three different objects.
'I dressed myself and went down, determining to set about something; but
what was I to do?--there was the difficulty. I ate no breakfast, but
walked about the room in a state of distraction; at last I thought that
the easiest way to do something was to get into Parliament, there would
be no difficulty in that. I had plenty of money, and could buy a seat;
but what was I to do in Parliament? Speak, of course--but could I speak?
"I'll try at once," said I, and forthwith I rushed into the largest
dining-room, and, locking the door, I commenced speaking: "Mr. Speaker,"
said I, and then I went on speaking for about ten minutes as I best
could, and then I left off, for I was talking nonsense. No, I was not
formed for Parliament; I could do nothing there. What--what was I to do?
'Many, many times I thought this question over, but was unable to solve
it; a fear now stole over me that I was unfit for anything in the world,
save the lazy life of vegetation which I had for many years been leading;
yet, if that were the case, thought I, why the craving within me to
distinguish myself? Surely it does not occur fortuitously, but is
intended to rouse and call into exercise certain latent powers that I
possess? and then with infinite eagerness I set about attempting to
discover these latent powers. I tried an infinity of pursuits, botany
and geology amongst the rest, but in vain; I was fitted for none of them.
I became very sorrowful and despondent, and at one time I had almost
resolved to plunge again into the whirlpool of dissipation; it was a
dreadful resource, it was true, but what better could I do?
'But I was not doomed to return to the dissipation of the world. One
morning a young nobleman, who had for some time past showed a wish to
cultivate my acquaintance, came to me in a considerable hurry. "I am
come to beg an important favour of you," said he; "one of the county
memberships is vacant--I intend to become a candidate; what I want
immediately is a spirited address to the electors. I have been
endeavouring to frame one all the morning, but in vain; I have,
therefore, recourse to you as a person of infinite genius; pray, my dear
friend, concoct me one by the morning!" "What you require of me," I
replied, "is impossible; I have not the gift of words; did I possess it I
would stand for the county myself, but I can't speak. Only the other day
I attempted to make a speech, but left off suddenly, utterly ashamed,
although I was quite alone, of the nonsense I was uttering." "It is not
a speech that I want," said my friend; "I can talk for three hours
without hesitating, but I want an address to circulate through the
county, and I find myself utterly incompetent to put one together; do
oblige me by writing one for me, I know you can; and, if at any time you
want a person to speak for you, you may command me not for three but for
six hours. Good-morning; to-morrow I will breakfast with you." In the
morning he came again. "Well," said he, "what success?" "Very poor,"
said I; "but judge for yourself"; and I put into his hand a manuscript of
several pages. My friend read it through with considerable attention. "I
congratulate you," said he, "and likewise myself; I was not mistaken in
my opinion of you; the address is too long by at least two-thirds, or I
should rather say, that it is longer by two-thirds than addresses
generally are; but it will do--I will not curtail it of a word. I shall
win my election." And in truth he did win his election; and it was not
only his own but the general opinion that he owed it to the address.
'But, however that might be, I had, by writing the address, at last
discovered what had so long eluded my search--what I was able to do. I,
who had neither the nerve nor the command of speech necessary to
constitute the orator--who had not the power of patient research required
by those who would investigate the secrets of nature, had, nevertheless,
a ready pen and teeming imagination. This discovery decided my fate--from
that moment I became an author.'