CHAPTER XVII.
There is no sorrow like self-reproach. Chandos Winslow was by no means a perfect character: he inherited much of his father's vehemence of nature, though far less than his brother: but at the same time, whether it be a natural or an acquired quality, (I think, the former,) he had great conscientiousness. Now, great conscientiousness cannot exist in the same breast with much vanity. They are incompatible ingredients: the vain man thinks all he does is right; the conscientious man is always trying if it be so, and censuring himself more than he would others when he finds he has acted wrong. Chandos felt that he had done so in the case of Lord Overton. How much soever worldly usages might justify him, he would not exculpate himself. And the burden was heavy: he groaned under it.
When he had written the note to Mr. Roberts, and obtained some tea, he sat meditating sadly on his fate, till at length he thought, "It would be better to give myself up! It is a duty--it may be some atonement. I will see Mr. Tracy first; and Rose. Dear girl, I fear she has suffered on my account."
His thoughts still remained sad; but they were calmer after he had taken this resolution. And ringing the bell, he asked if there was a newspaper in the house to amuse the time. The landlady, who appeared herself, said there was no "fresh ones," as she termed them; for Mr. Tims, the sexton, always had them first, and he kept them full three days; which was a shame. She had all last week's Times, however, she added, if the gentleman would like to see them.
"Better that than none," Chandos thought; and accepted, the offer. In a few minutes, the huge pile which a week's accumulation of the Times newspaper is sure to form in the month of January, when parliament meets early, was placed before him, and he opened the one at the top. It was six days old; but the young gentleman's eye rested first upon one of those eloquent and masterly leading articles, where all the powers of language and the acuteness of human reason, sharpened by art and use, are employed to give a peculiar view of some passing subject, in what may well be called an essay, which, if mental labour and literary merit ever obtained reward in England, would raise the writer far above the great body of those who are honoured by the crown and paid by the nation. The vigour, the subtlety, the eloquence, ay, and the wisdom of many passages captivated the mind of Chandos Winslow; but they brought a sad moral with them. He had dreamed of employing his own talents in the world of letters, of seeking fame and recompense by mental exertion. But he now asked himself--"Who is it wrote this splendid essay? What has been his reward in life? Who will ever hear of him? What will be his future fate? A man who can shake public opinion to its foundation, who can rule and command the minds of millions by the sceptre of genius, will live unhonoured but by a few, unrewarded except by the comparatively small remuneration, which even such a journal as this can afford, and die forgotten. Print calico, Chandos Winslow, twist cotton, paint portraits, feel pulses, plead causes bad and good, cut throats, do any thing but follow a course which in England is luxurious to the rich and great, thorny and stony to all else. We are a great commercial people! we are a nation of shopkeepers; and even in the distribution of honours and rewards, those who have them to dispose of expect their material pennyworth in return. Mind is nothing in Great Britain, except as it is employed upon matter."
While indulging in such reveries Chandos had laid the paper down; but when they were over, he took it up again; and his eyes fell upon several other paragraphs, one after the other, till they rested upon a brief passage, copied from another journal, and headed "THE LATE DUEL."
"We are happy to be able to state," it went on to say, "that Lord Overton, the sufferer in the late duel with Mr. Chandos Winslow, is proceeding rapidly towards convalescence.--Very little fever followed the extraction of the ball, and that which did supervene has quite subsided. The answer to inquiries yesterday at his lordship's house was, that he had been permitted to sit up for several hours. Under these favourable circumstances, Sir Henry d'Estragon and Mr. Winslow have returned to town, but have not yet shown themselves in public."
Chandos would have felt more satisfaction if there had not been one lie at least in the paragraph; but still he judged that the writer was more likely to learn Lord Overton's real state than his own movements; and he sought eagerly through the later papers for further information. He found at length a paragraph which stated that "Viscount Overton, who was wounded in the late duel at Wimbledon, is now quite convalescent, and drove out yesterday for two hours in the park."
Chandos felt as if some angel's hand had effaced the brand of Cain from his brow: his resolution of giving himself up was of course at an end, it being, like all resolutions in regard to definite acts, the mere plaything of circumstances; but he set to work to form other resolutions, which men may frame with better hopes of their durability, if their own minds be strong. They affected the regulation of his own passions, the course of his own conduct, the control of his own spirit. They were good; and they were lasting.
It is excellent for man to stand as on a mountain in the outset of life, and gaze over the many ways before him; to choose deliberately and with cool judgment, that upon which he will bend his steps, and to pursue it to the end. Verily, he shall not want success.
Chandos Winslow did so; and he rose tranquillized. Warm and eager by nature, he had learned from his mother to control himself to a certain point; but that control was merely according to or within the limits of worldly conventionalities. He had now found that there were wider obligations; that to rule his own passions, to check his own vehemence, to submit all his first impulses to a rigid law, totally independent of the factitious regulations of society, was a duty which, performed, must lead to peace of mind; and he resolved to strive so to do against original disposition, and against what is even more strong--habit.
On the subsequent morning he set out early for Northferry, not choosing to revisit Winslow park again, lest he should encounter one "a little more than kin and less than kind."