The Life of John Clare | Page 8

happier
and a wiser lad. He had discovered the great truth that he was not fit for
the profession of the law.

JOHN CLARE CONTINUES TO STUDY ALGEBRA, AND FALLS
IN LOVE.
The mother cried for joy when her John again entered the little cottage;
but the father welcomed him with a melancholy smile. John himself,
though with a little mortified vanity, felt rather pleased than otherwise.
His good sense told him that this journey to Wisbeach had been but a
fool's errand, and that, in order to rise in the world, he had to look into
other directions than to a lawyer's office. He therefore fell back with a
strong feeling of contentment into his old occupation, holding the
plough, carting manure to the field, and studying algebra. In the latter
favourite labour he was much assisted by a young friend, whose
acquaintance he had made at Glinton school, named John Turnill, the
son of a small farmer. The latter, having a little more money at his
command than his humble companion, was able to purchase the
necessary books, as well as a modest allowance of paper and pencils,
the gift of which threw John Clare into ecstasies of delight. With
Master Turnill, the attachment to mathematics and algebra was a real
love, though it was otherwise with Clare, who pursued these studies
solely out of ambition, and with a hope of raising himself in the world.
The desire to improve his position became stronger than ever after his
return from Wisbeach. The sneers of the people who met him during
the journey had sunk deep into his sensitive mind, and he determined to
make a struggle for a better position. How far mathematics and the pure

sciences would help him on the road he did not trouble himself to
consider; he only had a vague notion that they would lead him to be a
'scholar.' So he toiled with great energy through the algebraic and
mathematical handbooks purchased by friend Turnill, often getting so
warm on the subject as to neglect his dinner-hour, in brown studies
over the plus and _minus_, squares, cubes, and conic sections. Every
evening that he could possibly spare he walked over to Turnill's house,
near Elton, regardless of wind, rain, and snow, and regardless even of
the reproaches of his kind parents, who began to be afraid of his
continued dabbling in the occult arts. However, little John stuck to his
algebra, and it was nearly two years before he discovered that he was as
little fit to be a mathematician as a lawyer's clerk.
Meanwhile, and before the algebraic studies came to an end, there
occurred a somewhat favourable change in the circumstances of John
Clare. Among the few well-to-do inhabitants of Helpston was a person
named Francis Gregory, who owned a small public-house, under the
sign of the 'Blue Bell,' and rented, besides, a few acres of land. Francis
Gregory, a most kind and amiable man, was unmarried, and kept house
with his old mother, a female servant, and a lad, the latter half groom
and half gardener. This situation, a yearly 'hiring,' being vacant, it was
offered to John, and eagerly accepted, on the understanding that he
should have sufficient time of his own to continue his studies. It was a
promise abundantly kept, for John Clare had never more leisure, and,
perhaps, was never happier in his life than during the year that he
stayed at the 'Blue Bell.' Mr. Francis Gregory, suffering under constant
illness, treated the pale little boy, who was always hanging over his
books, more like a son than a servant, and this feeling was fully shared
by Mr. Gregory's mother. John's chief labours were to attend to a horse
and a couple of cows, and occasionally to do some light work in the
garden or the potato field; and as these occupations seldom filled more
than part of the day or the week, he had all the rest of the time to
himself. A characteristic part of Clare's nature began to reveal itself
now. While he had little leisure to himself, and much hard work, he
was not averse to the society of friends and companions, either, as in
the case of Turnill, for study, or, as with others, for recreation; but as
soon as he found himself, to a certain extent, his own master, he
forsook the company of his former acquaintances, and began to lead a

sort of hermit's life. He took long strolls into the woods, along the
meres, and to other lonely places, and got into the habit of remaining
whole hours at some favourite spot, lying flat on the ground, with his
face toward the sky. The flickering shadows of the sun; the rustling of
the leaves on the trees;