CHAPTER II.
PROGRESS.
Three or four years passed over, and the mind of Vivian Grey most astonishingly developed itself. He had long ceased to wear frills, had broached the subject of boots three or four times, made a sad inroad during the holidays in Mr. Grey's aforesaid bottle of claret, and was reported as having once sworn at the footman. The young gentleman began also to hint? during every vacation, that the fellows at Flummery's were somewhat too small for his companionship, and (first bud of puppyism!) the former advocate of straight hair, now expended a portion of his infant income in the purchase of
Macassar oil, and began to cultivate his curls.
Mrs. Grey could not entertain for a moment,
the idea of her son's associating with children,
the eldest of whom, (to adopt his own account,)
was not above eight years old; so Flummery's,
it was determined, he should leave. But where
to go? Mr. Grey wished Eton, but his lady
was one of those women, whom nothing in the
world can persuade that a public school is any
thing else but a place where boys are roasted
alive; and so with tears, and taunts, and supplications, the point of private education was conceded. As for Vivian himself, he was for Eton,
and Winchester, and Harrow, and Westminster,
all at once; the only point that he made was, "not Rugby, it was so devilish blackguard."
At length it was resolved that the only hope, should remain at home a season, until some plan should be devised for the cultivation of his promising understanding. During this year, Vivian became a somewhat more constant intruder into the library than heretofore; and living so much among books, he was insensibly attached to those silent companions, that speak so eloquently.
How far the character of the parent may influence the character of the child, I leave the metaphysician to decide. Sure I am, that the character of Vivian Grey underwent, at this period of his life, a sensible, a prodigious change. Doubtless, constant communion with a mind highly refined, severely cultivated, and much experienced, cannot but produce a most beneficial impression, even upon a mind formed, and upon principles developed: how infinitely greater must the influence of such communion be upon a youthful heart, ardent, innocent and inexperienced! As Vivian was not to figure in the microcosm of a public school, a place for which, from his temper, he was almost better fitted than any young genius whom the " playing fields" of Eton, or "the hills" of Winton, can remember; there was some difficulty in fixing upon his future Academus. Mr. Grey's two axioms were, first, that no one so young as his son should settle in the metropolis, and that Vivian must consequently not have a private tutor; and, secondly, that all private schools were quite worthless; and, therefore there was every probability of Vivian not receiving any education whatever.
At length, an exception to axiom second started up in the establishment of the Reverend Everard Dallas. This gentleman was a clergyman of the Church of England, a profound Grecian, and a poor man. He had edited the Alcestis, and married his laundress—lost money by his edition, and his fellowship by his match. In a few days, the hall of Mr. Grey's London mansion was filled with all sorts of portmanteaus, trunks, and travelling cases, directed in a boy's sprawling hand to "Vivian Grey, Esquire, at the Reverend Everard Dallas, Burnsley Vicarage, Hants."
"God bless you, my boy! write to your mother soon, and remember your Journal."