"I accept your offer," was his reply, "and I feel grateful for your patronage, as I am yet unknown; but I feel confident I shall succeed at length in this my present aim at fame and fortune. The goddess has eluded me often, doubtless even when I was sure I held her in my grasp. But that is nothing. I was happy, as I am at present, in the pursuit; for all my life has been a series of anticipations supremely happy."
We had stood during this discourse; my eye was on him; and I could see the glow that was upon his face. How strange to me it seemed: I, too, had lived in anticipation of being rich, yet never felt the thrill, the full joy, of hope which possession banishes. How justly may anticipation and fruition be compared to youth and age!—the one, joyous and buoyant, moves along the rough walks of life, with hope pointing the way and smoothing his path; fruition, like an aged traveller, feeble and spent, sees ever a length of way before him, rendered rougher by cares for what he has attained, while all behind him is nothing. One of my gloomy fits was coming over me—my mind was turning in upon itself, when he aroused me, by inquiring where he should have the pleasure of bringing his work to me. I gave him my address, and we began to return to the city. Long before we reached the last stile, he had so won upon my regard, that I invited him home with me to supper, under promise that he should give me an outline of his life. He redeemed his pledge thus:—
My father, Andrew Elder (said he), lived in one of the villages not far from town, where I was born. He was not rich, but well enough to do; by trade a joiner, tolerably well read, of a shrewd and argumentative turn of mind, and the oracle of the village, at a time when it was distracted by the politics of the period, which ran high between the aristocrats and democrats. The French Revolution had attained the climax of its horrors, and the best blood of France was poured forth as water. Once a democrat, he had changed his former opinions, and his antipathy was as intense against the bloody miscreants who, in the public commotion, had wriggled themselves into their bad pre-eminence, as his sympathy had been strong at the commencement in favour of an enslaved people. I was scarce seventeen—an anxious listener to all that passed in the shop between my father and his opponents. All he said was to me true as holy writ; and those hearers who doubted one word he said were deemed worthy only of my pity. Well do I recollect—it was the beginning of May, 1794, and our dinner hour; the newspaper had just arrived; a number of neighbours were seated on or standing around the bench on which the all-engrossing paper was spread. My father gave a shout of triumph, and looked contempt upon the democratic part of his audience, who were ranged on the opposite side. They again looked, their anxiety not unmixed with fear.
"Hurrah!" cried my father, "the bloody monsters will soon be put down and die by their own accursed guillotine. James, run into the house and bring me my Gazetteer; I wish to see the map."
I was not slow to obey, for I was as eager to learn the cause of my father's joy as the oldest politician present.
He read, with exultation, the arrival of the Emperor of Germany at Brussels on the 9th of April, and his advance to Valenciennes, to join the Duke of York, who lay there with the Allied Army under his command. Then, opening Guthrie's well-thumbed volume, and laying it before his auditors, he seized his compasses, as a marshal would his truncheon, waved them in triumph, then spread out the map, measuring on the scale a number of leagues to illustrate his demonstration.
"Now, attention, you blacknebs," he said, "and do not interrupt me;" and immediately all eyes were bent upon the map. "Now, here is Valenciennes," said he; "and here is Paris, the den of the murderers. The Allies will be there in three weeks at farthest; what can stay them? Tell me, ye democrats!" They hung their heads, as he struck the bench, to give his demonstration force. "In four months," he continued, "the king, Louis XVII., will be in Paris, to avenge his brother's blood; and peace will be restored before the corn is off the ground. Hurrah!"
There might have been some grave humour in his earnestness, but his prophecy made an impression on me he little dreamed of; while he spoke, a voice seemed to sound in my ear that made me start—"Here is an opportunity for you to see the world you have often wished for. The contest will not last four months; you may enter the navy, which will be paid off at the end of the war; be home before winter, and boast to your father of all you have seen and done." The impulse was so strong that I left the politicians in keen debate—for the dinner hour was not expired—and, putting on my coat and hat, set off for Leith as quick as I could walk. My only fear was that I might be too late to be received; the account of the Allies having entered Paris might have arrived; peace might be made before I could join, and my golden dreams be dissipated.
It was nearly dark before I reached the rendezvous upon the shore. A throb of joy gave new spirit to me when I saw the union-jack hanging over the door. I entered at once, and inquired if I was not too late to go on board of a man-of-war?
"By no means," said the active Captain Nash, who was present at the time. "Were you ever at sea, my spirited lad?"