If this memoir is to do for you, his sons and nephews, what I hope it may, you must be told of his weak points. You have seen already that he had to leave school half a year sooner than he would otherwise have left, because he was too easy-going as a sixth-form boy, and would not exert himself to keep order; and he had a constitutional indolence, which led him to shirk trouble in small matters, and to leave things to manage themselves. This fault used to annoy your grandfather, who was always exceedingly particular as to business habits, such as answering letters, and putting things in their right places. When we first were allowed to use guns, he gave us special instructions never to bring them into the house loaded. At the end of the Christmas holidays, just after George was made a prÆpostor, we brought our guns in loaded, and left them in the servants’ hall during luncheon. After lunch, when we went to take them out again, by some carelessness George’s went off, and he narrowly escaped being shot, and “Three questions I put to you in recent letters. These, supposing me simply a common acquaintance, and in a position to ask the questions, should have been promptly answered, and it is but reasonable to claim what is due to any Mr. Jones or Mr. Jobson. Without self-command enough to be punctual and methodical, you cannot realize your plans as to more serious things than I now write about; nor, indeed, can you do anything effective in study without it. Read as much as you will, it will be like filling the sieve of the Danaids. But to drop fine metaphors and come to plain English, in heaven’s name begin to be wide awake to the common exigencies and observances of life. You can see distant and abstracted things well enough; but in such common things as are understood and practised by every boy behind a counter who is worth his salt, you are in the state of a blind puppy in the straw. I do not speak with the least anger on the subject; but, as a man of common worldly sense, I cannot too pointedly and forcibly urge on you, that without a complete alteration in this respect, everything of real importance which you attempt in the business of life will be an absolute failure. You swear by Scott. Recollect Athelstan the Unready. He gives ample proof of both George’s reply appears to have contained some statement as to his intentions in the matter of reading, as well as satisfactory answers to the neglected questions. Your grandfather, however, returns to the charge again:— “I fully believe you have every desire and intention to follow up the course I wish, though your own experience in the vacation must have shown you that this desire is not enough unless backed by determination and method. I should not wish you to debar yourself of the full portion of healthy exercise desirable at your age, which is like ‘the meat and mass which hindereth no man,’ as our quaint old English expresses it. But I certainly wish you to recollect that the present year” [1838—he was seventeen] “is one of the most important in your life, as you are just of the age when the character forms itself one way or the other, and when time becomes valuable in a double degree. You told me of your own accord that your wish was to distinguish yourself at Oxford. If you are as certain as I am that this wish is a wise and desirable one, the next point is, to let it become one of those determinations which are only qualified by ‘Deo volente.’ With the foundation which has been already laid, the thing is undoubtedly in “Donnington, 1839. “Your mother and grandmother are both anxious that some destination should be early fixed for all of you; but on this I, who am more answerable, am rather cautious; feeling that much depends on what your own habits and predilections may be. At all events the right basis of every one’s education is this—to love God and your neighbour, and do your duty with diligence in whatever state of life circumstances may place you. No one can live in vain acting on these principles, and whatever tends not to their establishment is of very trifling importance. I have no time to pursue the subject further at present, as this is a busy morning, and your mother will want a good Again in 1840, referring to this indolent, easy-going habit, your grandfather writes:— “The temper of mind which I mean is often allied (and in your case I trust and believe it is) to certain qualities, good in a social and Christian sense: candour, good nature, and a contented spirit; just as certain peculiar weeds are frequently the indication of a sound and wholesome staple of soil: but then they are weeds, and it is a Christian duty to eradicate them in the labourer responsible for the care of the soil. In this respect the children of this world are the wisest in their generation. We may safely take examples of skill, activity, and abiding interest in a purpose, from the worst and most selfish men; and those who are wise, as well as good, do take the example, and profit by it. Not but that young persons constitutionally indolent, if they are also conscientious in their duty to their friends, and correct in the general notion that industry in a calling is a duty, do complete their stated hours of study in an honest and competent manner. And this is precisely your case; a case which has put me in an awkward position in pointing out your deficiencies. It is an ungracious thing to tease and spur a tractable, good-tempered horse, who trots his seven miles an hour of his own accord, even when you know that he has the blood and power in him to go up to the best hounds with due training, and it is hard to treat And again in 1842:— “As an illustration is necessary to a theme, suppose two garden engines of equal capacity, one leaky and loosely constructed, the other well staunched, which does not waste a drop of water. You may cobble and plug up the first pro tem., and by working it with a strong arm make it play well: anon it leaketh again, and without a strong and troublesome effort it is no go. The second is tight and compact at a moment’s notice, and throws its stream with precision, just as much as is wanted, and where it is wanted— f????ta s??et??s??. “I think there has been some improvement this year in your briskness and precision, but there is room for more. Straws show which way the wind blows. Videlicet, the not having looked in the calendar. The last reference of this kind which I find in your grandfather’s letters, which we’re always carefully preserved by George, occurs in 1846. After referring to an omission to notice the transfer of some money to his account, your grandfather goes on:— “By the bye, I certainly am under the impression that you shrink from the trouble of details and cares of this kind; the same impression which I entertained five or six years ago. You must yourself know best whether I am right or not, and it is now of importance that you should candidly ask yourself the question, and, if self-convicted, turn completely over a new leaf, on account of having others soon to act and manage for, as master of a house. I need hardly tell you I suppose that, in all points of paramount importance, your character has formed in a manner which has given me thorough satisfaction, and that your friends and relatives have just reason for appreciating you highly as a member of society. I will also add, and with truth, that I know no man of your age, who, if placed in a difficult situation, would in my opinion act with more sense, firmness, and discretion; and this is much indeed. But the possession of a naturally decisive and influential character is just what requires digested method in small and necessary things; otherwise the defect is more ridiculously anomalous than in a scatter-brained fellow, whom no one looks up to, or consults. It is a godsend if a beggar is any better than barefoot, but what would you say to a well-dressed man otherwise, who had forgotten his feet, and came into a drawing-room with a pair of greasy slippers? Without buttering you up, yours happens to be a character which, to round it off consistently and properly, demands accuracy in small and irksome things. In some respects As a slight illustration of the effect of these letters, I may add here, that to the end of his life, when he came in from shooting, my brother never rested until he had cleaned his gun with his own hands. When asked why he did not leave it to the keeper, he said he preferred its being done at once, and thoroughly; and the only way of being sure of that, was to do it himself. In some respects, however, he never got over his constitutional love of taking things easily, and avoiding bother and trouble. |