Vivian Grey | Page 9

he had

always been anxious that his son should be at home as little as possible;
for he feared for a youth the fascination of London society. Although
busied with his studies, and professing "not to visit," Vivian could not
avoid occasionally finding himself in company in which boys should
never be seen; and, what was still worse, from a certain social spirit, an
indefinable tact with which Nature had endowed him, this boy of
nineteen began to think this society delightful. Most persons of his age
would have passed through the ordeal with perfect safety; they would
have entered certain rooms, at certain hours, with stiff cravats, and
Nugee coats, and black velvet waistcoats; and after having annoyed all
those who condescended to know of their existence, with their red
hands and their white gloves, they would have retired to a corner of the
room, and conversationised with any stray four-year-older not yet sent
to bed.
But Vivian Grey was a graceful, lively lad, with just enough of
dandyism to preserve him from committing gaucheries, and with a
devil of a tongue. All men will agree with me that the only rival to be
feared by a man of spirit is a clever boy. What makes them so popular
with women it is difficult to explain; however, Lady Julia Knighton,
and Mrs. Frank Delmington, and half a score of dames of fashion, were
always patronising our hero, who found an evening spent in their
society not altogether dull, for there is no fascination so irresistible to a
boy as the smile of a married woman. Vivian had passed such a recluse
life for the last two years and a half, that he had quite forgotten that he
was once considered an agreeable fellow; and so, determined to
discover what right he ever had to such a reputation, he dashed into all
these amourettes in beautiful style.
But Vivian Grey was a young and tender plant in a moral hothouse. His
character was developing itself too soon. Although his evenings were
now generally passed in the manner we have alluded to, this boy was,
during the rest of the day, a hard and indefatigable student; and having
now got through an immense series of historical reading, he had
stumbled upon a branch of study certainly the most delightful in the
world; but, for a boy, as certainly the most perilous, THE STUDY OF
POLITICS.

And now everything was solved! the inexplicable longings of his soul,
which had so often perplexed him, were at length explained. The want,
the indefinable want, which he had so constantly experienced, was at
last supplied; the grand object on which to bring the powers of his mind
to bear and work was at last provided. He paced his chamber in an
agitated spirit, and panted for the Senate.
It may be asked, what was the evil of all this? and the reader will,
perhaps, murmur something about an honourable spirit and youthful
ambition. The evil was great. The time drew nigh for Vivian to leave
his home for Oxford, that is, for him to commence his long preparation
for entering on his career in life. And now this person, who was about
to be a pupil, this stripling, who was going to begin his education, had
all the desires of a matured mind, of an experienced man, but without
maturity and without experience. He was already a cunning reader of
human hearts; and felt conscious that his was a tongue which was born
to guide human beings. The idea of Oxford to such an individual was
an insult!
CHAPTER VIII
We must endeavour to trace, if possible, more accurately the workings
of Vivian Grey's mind at this period of his existence. In the plenitude of
his ambition, he stopped one day to enquire in what manner he could
obtain his magnificent ends.
"The Bar: pooh! law and bad jokes till we are forty; and then, with the
most brilliant success, the prospect of gout and a coronet. Besides, to
succeed as an advocate, I must be a great lawyer; and, to be a great
lawyer, I must give up my chance of being a great man. The Services in
war time are fit only for desperadoes (and that truly am I); but, in peace,
are fit only for fools. The Church is more rational. Let me see: I should
certainly like to act Wolsey; but the thousand and one chances against
me! And truly I feel my destiny should not be on a chance. Were I the
son of a millionaire, or a noble, I might have all. Curse on my lot! that
the want of a few rascal counters, and the possession of a little rascal
blood, should mar my fortunes!"

Such was the general tenor of