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114 IRtlt yLeuiie t* [Saturday,
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^ 40flrttlUttt* i
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We should do our utmost to encourage the...
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THE APPRENTICESHIP OF LIFE. By G. H. LEW...
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Transcript
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
114 Irtlt Yleuiie T* [Saturday,
114 IRtlt yLeuiie t * [ Saturday ,
^ 40flrttluttt* I
pnxtfnliu .
We Should Do Our Utmost To Encourage The...
We should do our utmost to encourage the Beautiful , for the Useful encourages itself . — Goethe .
The Apprenticeship Of Life. By G. H. Lew...
THE APPRENTICESHIP OF LIFE . By G . H . LEWES . SECOND EPISODE . —THE INITIATION OF LOVE . Chap . I . —The Hazard of the Die . Armand returned to Paris to experience something of the trouble which each man brings upon himself who thinks for himself . With his father , and his father ' friends , there was little hope of his being permitted to maintain his opinions in peace . They talked , indeed , fluently and even eloquently of tolerance ; but they understood it not . They spoke with bitterness of the bigotry of priests , and were unaware of their own . The idea of a youth educated in their enlightened system deserting over to the enemy , was peculiarly exasperating to them ; and in the same spirit of charity as that which applied the Boot , the Thumbscrew , and the auto-da-fe , they applied the p * etty persecution of taunt , ridicule , and menace . Montaigne has well said la creance we se maniepas a coups de poingsj and the history of the world tells plainly that no ungenerous mode of argument can have any other effect than that of strengthening the conviction it pretends to shake . Persecution is the mother of heresy . It drives the hesitating mind to conclusions that mind would not otherwise , perhaps , have reached . Of all persecution none , perhaps , is so irritating and so idle as that which takes place in families : it has all the injustice and absurdity which disgrace public persecutions , without having their dignity and importance . Colonel de Fayol at first imagined his triumph would be easy . He was a man of wit and capacity ; and being profoundly convinced of the falsehood and absurdity of all religion , he never doubted that he should be able to wean his son from his new opinions . For some time , therefore , he contented himself with arguing . At length he grew exasperated . Taunts took the place of reasons ; menaces followed taunts . But the boy was immovable . Have you never been struck with one peculiarity in argument : I mean the impossibility , as it appears to both of you , that the other should not see the matter in its true light ? It is clear to me , —you must see it if you will but look honestly ! Set aside your prejudices and contemplate my argument candidly , and you must agree with me . But you will not ; you are afraid of being beaten , and I get irritated at your obstinacy . This was singularly the case with the Colonel . Nothing could be clearer than his arguments , or more conclusive , yet his son was stubborn ! The strife continued for more than three years , at the end of which period , home becoming insupportable , Armand left it one day in a passion , vowing never to return . Whiher should he go ? What could he do ? His resolution was soon fixed : he would go to sea ! Behold our hero , then , not yet nineteen , trudging along the dusty high road—for his slender purse would not permit his taking a place in the diligence—his ardent spirit delighting in the freedom from constraints and irritations it met with at home , and thirsting for romantic adventure as we thirst for it at nineteen ! The world was before him , and he was free to choose his path , Tt is not easy to paint the exquisite delight he felt in his new condition . In the first place he was enjoying the pride of martyrdom . To suffer in a great cause has always had its glorious recompense of inward approbation , transmuting the pain into delight . We hug such sorrows closer to our bosom , and with our own hands press the dagger deeper into the wound : for the more we suffer , the more we rejoice ; the greater the pain , the greater the pride . The tears which music wrings from the trembling soul are not more unequivocal symptoms of enjoyment , than are the means forced from us by persecution . To the pride of martyrdom Armand added the pride of romance . At his nge to be cast upon the world to follow an adventurous career , had nothing in it but what was captivating ; and endless were the dramas his imagination schemed , as he trudged onwards under the burning sun . The road was monotonous , but his thoughts saved him from weariness , for he was young , strong , and hopeful . Sometimes he would pause by the road side to rest . And as he sat there drawing figures on the dust with his walking stick , or bathing his heated feet in a running stream , a thousand romantic evanescent fancies crossed his imagination , and whilud away the time . He lived in dreams . The huge diligence came lumbering past him , with ts jingling bells and vociferating postilions ; slow waggons toiled along the oad ; sunburnt peasants cast stupid inquiring looks at him as they came up , ind little ragged children would pause over their hunch of black bread and itare at him ; then came flocks of sheep raising clouds of dust ; and gaunt anky pigs grunted close beside him ; above him the intense blue sky , round him the merry chirping and twittering of birds . Sometimes he came upon a wood , and plunged into it , seeking a spot ' here the grass was thickest and longest ; and there lie would lie for hours , etching the glinting sunlight on the leaves , and the endless beauty of the
various shadows . The lazy sounds of noon , the murmurous harmony of insects , and the songs of birds—sounds so gentle that they only served to make the general stillness more noticeable—filled him with a vague and dreamy beatitude . Never in after life were those hours entirely forgotten . They were not simply hours of present delight , but left in his soul ineffaceable traces whic h
sweetened the future . Who does not remember such days ? Who can look back into the past and not discover a few luminous spots which time has failed to dim , days of delight in which no incident occurred that percepti bly affected our fortunes , yet days marked in the calendar as those of quiet and enchanting happiness ? Such days are always passed in some rural spot , and the perfume of flowers lingers round them still . Do they not seem like glimpses of our immortality ?
So long as Armand ' s scanty supply of money lasted his journey was one of uninterrupted enjoyment ; but when his final piece of ten sous was spent on a supper and night ' s lodging he began to awaken to the " stern realities " of his position . A glass of milk sufficed him for breakfast , however , and he started gaily . All that day he trudged on with no other nourishment than an occasional glass of milk , which was given freely by the cottagers , who would have added to it a slice of black bread , had his pride permitted him to ask for it ; but he preferred enduring hunger .
That night he slept under a haystack . Next morning he awoke feeling very faint . The tall spires of churches rising up against the sky told him that he was at no great distance from a town , which—could he but reach it—he had no doubt would somehow throw assistance in his way . But how to reach that town ? He was so exhausted by over fatigue and want of food , that he staggered rather than walked along the road . He had not even been able to procure a glass of milk . The cottage at which he first stopped to beg one was tenanted by an old woman who told him in a manner anything but polite , that she was forced to buy her milk and had none to give away .
This was the first refusal he had met , and it sunk deep into his heart . Tears of wounded pride rolled down his cheek as he toiled along under the fierce sun . Not even his horrible exhaustion could induce him again to brave the risk of denial . Some water scooped up in his hand from a spring was all the refreshment he could get . He walked feebly on . The tall spires which in the morning had beckoned him , now at noon seemed as distant as ever . He began to lose heart . The cravings of hunger , the drooping of his spirits , the weariness of his limbs , and the dull lethargic somnolence which was creeping over him , subdued his youthful strength . He began to think of death : it made him think of Gabrielle—that flower which lived but for a
day ! She appeared before him , as of old , seated m the high-backed chair , looking out upon the sea rolling in the sunlight , with Frangipolo at her side , talking grave and graceful wisdom , and loving her with his eyes . The vision grew painfully distinct as he sat himself on a heap of stones by the road side . They were hot from the burning rays . Not a breath of air tempered the fierceness of the sun which poured down upon him . In his ears there was a cool and pleasant sound as of the plash of waves
upon the beach . Brfore him was spread a delicious breakfast . Gabrielle sat at the table motioning him to come and seat himself beside her . The white cloth , the breakfast service , the eggs and butter , the smoking galette , the bottles of wine , and plates of fruit were all tempting him ; yet he could not move towards them . Gabrielle smiled and beckoned ; the Comte grew impatient ; and at last Armand rose to obey them—and fell senseless on the heap of stones .
Chap . II . —Hortense . A sensation of delightful warmth and returning vigour as some wine poured down his throat was the first glimmering Armand had of
con-. He opened his eyes wildly , and saw an anxious face bending over him . He closed them again to reopen them with a stronger effort , and fix a steady gaze upon that face . " Thank God ! " exclaimed a deep rich melodious voice , which seemed to ring through his whole being . He saw himself supported in the arms of a woman whose face was entirely unknown to him ; she looked at him with agitated curiosity , and in her hand she held a flask of wine from which she once more forced him to drink . He was in a travelling carriage , and whirling along at a rapid pace .
" What is this ? Where am I ? Who are you ? " were his eager inquiries . " Hush ! keep quiet . Drink a little more wine . " Tie obeyed ; but after swallowing a few mouthfuls he dropped his head once more upon her lap and sank asleeji . The effect of the wine on his exhausted frame was too much for him . The stupor did not last long , and he seemed to hear the words " poor boy ! " murmured by that rich voice as he once more raised his head and
looked at his rescuer . Never had he seen any one so beautiful ; and he forgot everything to gaze at her . She recalled him to a sense of his position by asking how he felt . " Much better—quite well now , thank you . But how did I get here , and who are you who take this interest in me ? " " That is very soon told . Looking out of the carriage window I saw you rise from a heap of stones , and with your arms stretched out as if about to
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), April 27, 1850, page 18, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_27041850/page/18/
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