Tracks Of A Rolling Stone - Henry J. Coke (novels in english .TXT) 📗
- Author: Henry J. Coke
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It Was Settled That After A Course Of Three Years At A
Private Tutor's I Was To Go To Cambridge. The Life I Had Led
For The Past Three Years Was Not The Best Training For The
Fellow-Pupil Of Lads Of Fifteen Or Sixteen Who Had Just Left
School. They Were Much More Ready To Follow My Lead Than I
Theirs, Especially As Mine Was Always In The Pursuit Of
Pleasure.
I Was First Sent To Mr. B.'S, About A Couple Of Miles From
Alnwick. Before My Time, Alnwick Itself Was Considered Out
Of Bounds. But As Nearly Half The Sin In This World Consists
In Being Found Out, My Companions And I Managed Never To
Commit Any In This Direction.
We Generally Returned From The Town With A Bottle Of Some
Noxious Compound Called 'Port' In Our Pockets, Which Was
Served Out In Our 'Study' At Night, While I Read Aloud The
Instructive Adventures Of Mr. Thomas Jones. We Were, Of
Course, Supposed To Employ These Late Hours In Preparing Our
Work For The Morrow. One Boy Only Protested That, Under The
Combined Seductions Of The Port And Miss Molly Seagrim, He
Could Never Make His Verses Scan.
Another Of Our Recreations Was Poaching. From My Earliest
Days I Was Taught To Shoot, Myself And My Brothers Being Each
Provided With His Little Single-Barrelled Flint And Steel
'Joe Manton.' At - We Were Surrounded By Grouse Moors On One
Side, And By Well-Preserved Coverts On The Other. The Grouse
I Used To Shoot In The Evening While They Fed Amongst The
Corn Stooks; For Pheasants And Hares, I Used To Get The Other
Pupils To Walk Through The Woods, While I With A Gun Walked
Outside. Scouts Were Posted To Look Out For Keepers.
Did Our Tutor Know? Of Course He Knew. But Think Of The
Saving In The Butcher's Bill! Besides Which, Mr. B. Was
Otherwise Preoccupied; He Was In Love With Mrs. B. I Say 'In
Love,' For Although I Could Not Be Sure Of It Then, (Having
No Direct Experience Of The Amantium Irae,) Subsequent
Chapter 8 Pg 43Observation Has Persuaded Me That Their Perpetual Quarrels
Could Mean Nothing Else. This Was Exceedingly Favourable To
The Independence Of Mr. B.'S Pupils. But When Asked By Mr.
Ellice How I Was Getting On, I Was Forced In Candour To Admit
That I Was In A Fair Way To Forget All I Ever Knew.
By The Advice Of Lord Spencer I Was Next Placed Under The
Tuition Of One Of The Minor Canons Of Ely. The Bishop Of Ely
- Dr. Allen - Had Been Lord Spencer's Tutor, Hence His
Elevation To The See. The Dean - Dr. Peacock, Of Algebraic
And Trinity College Fame - Was Good Enough To Promise 'To
Keep An Eye' On Me. Lord Spencer Himself Took Me To Ely; And
There I Remained For Two Years. They Were Two Very Important
Years Of My Life. Having No Fellow Pupil To Beguile Me, I
Was The More Industrious. But It Was Not From The Better
Acquaintance With Ancient Literature That I Mainly Benefited,
- It Was From My Initiation To Modern Thought. I Was A
Constant Guest At The Deanery; Where I Frequently Met Such
Men As Sedgwick, Airey The Astronomer-Royal, Selwyn, Phelps
The Master Of Sydney, Canon Heaviside The Master Of
Haileybury, And Many Other Friends Of The Dean's,
Distinguished In Science, Literature, And Art. Here I Heard
Discussed Opinions On These Subjects By Some Of Their Leading
Representatives. Naturally, As Many Of Them Were Churchmen,
Conversation Often Turned On The Bearing Of Modern Science,
Of Geology Especially If Sedgwick Were Of The Party, Upon
Mosaic Cosmogony, Or Biblical Exegesis Generally.
The Knowledge Of These Learned Men, The Lucidity With Which
They Expressed Their Views, And The Earnestness With Which
They Defended Them, Captivated My Attention, And Opened To Me
A New World Of Surpassing Interest And Gravity.
What Startled Me Most Was The Spirit In Which A Man Of
Sedgwick's Intellectual Power Protested Against The Possible
Encroachments Of His Own Branch Of Science Upon The Orthodox
Tenets Of The Church. Just About This Time An Anonymous Book
Appeared, Which, Though Long Since Forgotten, Caused No
Slight Disturbance Amongst Dogmatic Theologians. The
Tendency Of This Book, 'Vestiges Of The Creation,' Was, Or
Was Then Held To Be, Antagonistic To The Arguments From
Design. Familiar As We Now Are With The Theory Of Evolution,
Such A Work As The 'Vestiges' Would No More Stir The Odium
Theologicum Than Franklin's Kite. Sedgwick, However,
Attacked It With A Vehemence And A Rancour That Would
Certainly Have Roasted Its Author Had The Professor Held The
Office Of Grand Inquisitor.
Though Incapable Of Forming Any Opinion As To The Scientific
Merits Of Such A Book, Or Of Hugh Miller's Writings, Which He
Also Attacked Upon Purely Religious Grounds, I Was Staggered
By The Fact That The Bible Could Possibly Be Impeached, Or
That It Was Not Profanity To Defend It Even. Was It Not The
'Word Of God'? And If So, How Could Any Theories Of
Chapter 8 Pg 44Creation, Any Historical, Any Philological Researches, Shake
Its Eternal Truth?
Day And Night I Pondered Over This New Revelation. I Bought
The Books - The Wicked Books - Which Nobody Ought To Read.
The Index Expurgatorius Became My Guide For Books To Be
Digested. I Laid Hands On Every Heretical Work I Could Hear
Of. By Chance I Made The Acquaintance Of A Young Man Who,
Together With His Family, Were Unitarians. I Got, And
Devoured, Channing's Works. I Found A Splendid Copy Of
Voltaire In The Holkham Library, And Hunted Through The
Endless Volumes, Till I Came To The 'Dialogues
Philosophiques.' The World Is Too Busy, Fortunately, To
Disturb Its Peace With Such Profane Satire, Such Withering
Sarcasm As Flashes Through An 'Entretien' Like That Between
'Frere Rigolet' And 'L'empereur De La Chine.' Every French
Man Of Letters Knows It By Heart; But It Would Wound Our
English Susceptibilities Were I To Cite It Here. Then, Too,
The Impious Paraphrase Of The Athanasian Creed, With Its
Terrible Climax, From The Converting Jesuit: 'Or Vous Voyez
Bien . . . Qu'un Homme Qui Ne Croit Pas Cette Histoire Doit
Etre Brule Dans Ce Monde Ci, Et Dans L'autre.' To Which
'L'empereur' Replies: 'Ca C'est Clair Comme Le Jour.'
Could An Ignorant Youth, Fevered With Curiosity And The First
Goadings Of The Questioning Spirit, Resist Such Logic, Such
Scorn, Such Scathing Wit, As He Met With Here?
Then Followed Rousseau; 'Emile' Became My Favourite.
Froude's 'Nemesis Of Faith' I Read, And Many Other Books Of A
Like Tendency. Passive Obedience, Blind Submission To
Authority, Was Never One Of My Virtues, And Once My Faith Was
Shattered, I Knew Not Where To Stop - What To Doubt, What To
Believe. If The Injunction To 'Prove All Things' Was
Anything More Than An Empty Apophthegm, Inquiry, In St.
Paul's Eyes At Any Rate, Could Not Be Sacrilege.
It Was Not Happiness I Sought, - Not Peace Of Mind At Least;
For Assuredly My Thirst For Knowledge, For Truth, Brought Me
Anything But Peace. I Never Was More Restless, Or, At Times,
More Unhappy. Shallow, Indeed, Must Be The Soul That Can
Lightly Sever Itself From Beliefs Which Lie At The Roots Of
Our Moral, Intellectual, And Emotional Being, Sanctified Too
By Associations Of Our Earliest Love And Reverence. I Used
To Wander About The Fields, And Sit For Hours In Sequestered
Spots, Longing For Some Friend, Some Confidant To Take
Counsel With. I Knew No Such Friend. I Did Not Dare To
Speak Of My Misgivings To Others. In Spite Of My Earnest
Desire For Guidance, For More Light, The Strong Grip Of
Childhood's Influences Was Impossible To Shake Off. I Could
Not Rid My Conscience Of The Sin Of Doubt.
It Is This Difficulty, This Primary Dependence On Others,
Which Develops Into The Child's First Religion, That
Chapter 8 Pg 45Perpetuates The Infantile Character Of Human Creeds; And,
What Is Worse, Generates The Hideous Bigotry Which Justifies
That Sad Reflection Of Lucretius: 'Tantum Religio Potuit
Suadere Malorum!'
Chapter 9 Pg 46
To Turn Again To Narrative, And To Far Less Serious Thoughts.
The Last Eighteen Months Before I Went To Cambridge, I Was
Placed, Or Rather Placed Myself, Under The Tuition Of Mr.
Robert Collyer, Rector Of Warham, A Living Close To Holkham
In The Gift Of My Brother Leicester. Between My Ely Tutor
And Myself There Was But Little Sympathy. He Was A Man Of
Much Refinement, But With Not Much Indulgence For Such
Aberrant Proclivities As Mine. Without My Knowledge, He
Wrote To Mr. Ellice Lamenting My Secret Recusancy, And Its
Moral Dangers. Mr. Ellice Came Expressly From London, And
Stayed A Night At Ely. He Dined With Us In The Cloisters,
And Had A Long Private Conversation With My Tutor, And,
Before He Left, With Me. I Indignantly Resented The
Clandestine Representations Of Mr. S., And, Without A Word To
Mr. Ellice Or To Anyone Else, Wrote Next Day To Mr. Collyer
To Beg Him To Take Me In At Warham, And Make What He Could Of
Me, Before I Went To Cambridge. It May Here Be Said That Mr.
Collyer Had Been My Father's Chaplain, And Had Lived At
Holkham For Several Years As Family Tutor To My Brothers And
Myself, As We In Turn Left The Nursery. Mr. Collyer, Upon
Receipt Of My Letter, Referred The Matter To Mr. Ellice; With
His Approval I Was Duly Installed At Warham. Before
Describing My Time There, I Must Tell Of An Incident Which
Came Near To Affecting Me In A Rather Important Way.
My Mother Lived At Longford In Derbyshire, An Old Place, Now
My Home, Which Had Come Into The Coke Family In James I.'S
Reign, Through The Marriage Of A Son Of Chief Justice Coke's
With The Heiress
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