Second Thoughts of An Idle Fellow | Page 8

At the critical moment, however,
a couple of officious policemen pushed me aside and did it themselves.
There was nothing for me to regret, as the matter turned out. I should
only have rescued a bald-headed commercial traveller, very drunk, who
swore horribly, and pelted the crowd with empty collar-boxes.

From the window of a very high flat I once watched three men,
resolved to stop a runaway horse. Each man marched deliberately into
the middle of the road and took up his stand. My window was too far
away for me to see their faces, but their attitude suggested heroism unto
death. The first man, as the horse came charging towards him, faced it
with his arms spread out. He never flinched until the horse was within
about twenty yards of him. Then, as the animal was evidently
determined to continue its wild career, there was nothing left for him to
do but to retire again to the kerb, where he stood looking after it with
evident sorrow, as though saying to himself--"Oh, well, if you are
going to be headstrong I have done with you."
The second man, on the catastrophe being thus left clear for him,
without a moment's hesitation, walked up a bye street and disappeared.
The third man stood his ground, and, as the horse passed him, yelled at
it. I could not hear what he said. I have not the slightest doubt it was
excellent advice, but the animal was apparently too excited even to
listen. The first and the third man met afterwards, and discussed the
matter sympathetically. I judged they were regretting the
pig-headedness of runaway horses in general, and hoping that nobody
had been hurt.
I forget the other characters I assumed about this period. One, I know,
that got me into a good deal of trouble was that of a downright, honest,
hearty, outspoken young man who always said what he meant.
I never knew but one man who made a real success of speaking his
mind. I have heard him slap the table with his open hand and exclaim--
"You want me to flatter you--to stuff you up with a pack of lies. That's
not me, that's not Jim Compton. But if you care for my honest opinion,
all I can say is, that child is the most marvellous performer on the piano
I've ever heard. I don't say she is a genius, but I have heard Liszt and
Metzler and all the crack players, and I prefer HER. That's my opinion.
I speak my mind, and I can't help it if you're offended."
"How refreshing," the parents would say, "to come across a man who is
not afraid to say what he really thinks. Why are we not all outspoken?"

The last character I attempted I thought would be easy to assume. It
was that of a much admired and beloved young man, whose great
charm lay in the fact that he was always just--himself. Other people
posed and acted. He never made any effort to be anything but his own
natural, simple self.
I thought I also would be my own natural, simple self. But then the
question arose--What was my own natural, simple self?
That was the preliminary problem I had to solve; I have not solved it to
this day. What am I? I am a great gentleman, walking through the
world with dauntless heart and head erect, scornful of all meanness,
impatient of all littleness. I am a mean-thinking, little-daring man--the
type of man that I of the dauntless heart and the erect head despise
greatly--crawling to a poor end by devious ways, cringing to the strong,
timid of all pain. I--but, dear reader, I will not sadden your sensitive
ears with details I could give you, showing how contemptible a creature
this wretched I happens to be. Nor would you understand me. You
would only be astonished, discovering that such disreputable specimens
of humanity contrive to exist in this age. It is best, my dear sir, or
madam, you should remain ignorant of these evil persons. Let me not
trouble you with knowledge.
I am a philosopher, greeting alike the thunder and the sunshine with
frolic welcome. Only now and then, when all things do not fall exactly
as I wish them, when foolish, wicked people will persist in doing
foolish, wicked acts, affecting my comfort and happiness, I rage and
fret a goodish deal.
As Heine said of himself, I am knight, too, of the Holy Grail, valiant
for the Truth, reverent of all women, honouring all men, eager to yield
life to the service of my great Captain.
And next moment, I find myself in the enemy's lines, fighting under the
black banner. (It must be confusing to these opposing Generals, all
their