evening escaped from the crowds of _friends_ who filled my house, to
indulge myself in a solitary, melancholy walk. I saw at some distance
a party of people, who were coming to admire the place; and to avoid
meeting them I took shelter under a fine tree, the branches of which,
hanging to the ground, concealed me from the view of passengers. Thus
seated, I was checked in the middle of a desperate yawn, by hearing one
among the party of strangers exclaiming--
“How happy the owner of this place must be!”
Yes, had I known how to enjoy the goods of life, I might have been
happy; but want of occupation, and antipathy to exertion, rendered me
one of the most miserable men upon earth. Still I imagined that the
cause of my discontent proceeded from some external circumstance. Soon
after my coming of age, business of various sorts required my attention;
papers were to be signed, and lands were to be let: these things
appeared to me terrible difficulties. Not even that minister of state,
who so feelingly describes his horror at the first appearance of the
secretary with the great portfolio, ever experienced sensations so
oppressive as mine were, when my steward began to talk to me of my own
affairs. In the peevishness of my indolence, I declared that I thought
the pains overbalanced the pleasures of property. Captain Crawley,
a friend--a sort of a friend--a humble companion of mine, a gross,
unblushing, thorough-going flatterer, happened to be present when I made
this declaration: he kindly undertook to stand between me and the shadow
of trouble. I accepted this offer.
“Ay, Crawley,” said I, “do see and settle with these people.”
I had not the slightest confidence in the person into whose hands, to
save myself from the labour of thinking, I thus threw all my affairs;
but I satisfied my understanding, by resolving that, when I should have
leisure, I would look out for an agent upon whom I could depend.
I had now been nearly two months at Sherwood Park; too long a time, I
thought, to remain in any place, and I was impatient to get away. My
steward, who disliked the idea of my spending my summers at home,
found it easy to persuade me that the water on my estate had a brackish
unwholesome taste. The man who told me this stood before me in perfect
health, though he had drunk this insalubrious water all his life: but it
was too laborious a task for my intellects to compare the evidence of
my different senses, and I found it most easy to believe what I heard,
though it was in direct opposition to what I saw. Away I hurried to a
_watering-place_, after the example of many of my noble contemporaries,
who leave their delightful country-seats, to pay, by the inch, for being
squeezed up in lodging-houses, with all imaginable inconvenience, during
the hottest months in summer. I whiled away my time at Brighton, cursing
the heat of the weather, till the winter came, and then cursing the
cold, and longing for the London winter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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