him was to discover oneself a
revolutionary.

In practice, as I learned at the cost of four more or less wasted
years, he of course followed the methods considered correct by English
schoolmen from the days of Edward VI. onwards.

Heaven knows I worked hard. I wanted to learn. Ambition--the all
containing ambition of a boy that "has its centre everywhere nor cares
to fix itself to form" stirred within me. Did I pass a speaker at some
corner, hatless, perspiring, pointing Utopias in the air to restless
hungry eyes, at once I saw myself, a Demosthenes swaying multitudes, a
statesman holding the House of Commons spellbound, the Prime Minister of
England, worshipped by the entire country. Even the Opposition papers,
had I known of them, I should have imagined forced to reluctant
admiration. Did the echo of a distant drum fall upon my ear, then before
me rose picturesque fields of carnage, one figure ever conspicuous:
Myself, well to the front, isolated. Promotion in the British army of
my dream being a matter purely of merit, I returned Commander-in-Chief.
Vast crowds thronged every flag-decked street. I saw white waving hands
from every roof and window. I heard the dull, deep roar of welcome, as
with superb seat upon my snow-white charger--or should it be coal-black?
The point cost me much consideration, so anxious was I that the day
should be without a flaw--I slowly paced at the head of my victorious
troops, between wild waves of upturned faces: walked into a lamp-post
or on to the toes of some irascible old gentleman, and awoke. A drunken
sailor stormed from between swing doors and tacked tumultuously down the
street: the factory chimney belching smoke became a swaying mast. The
costers round about me shouted "Ay, ay, sir. 'Ready, ay, ready." I
was Christopher Columbus, Drake, Nelson, rolled into one. Spurning
the presumption of modern geographers, I discovered new continents.
I defeated the French--those useful French! I died in the moment of
victory. A nation mourned me and I was buried in Westminster Abbey.
Also I lived and was created a Duke. Either alternative had its charm:
personally I was indifferent. Boys who on November the ninth, as
explained by letters from their mothers, read by Doctor Florret with a
snort, were suffering from a severe toothache, told me on November
the tenth of the glories of Lord Mayor's Shows. I heard their chatter
fainter and fainter as from an ever-increasing distance. The bells of