THE

KALEIDOSCOPE.

No. VII.

Monday, May 27th, 1833.

TACT AND TALENT.

It is a common observation that Fortune is not the attendant of Talent: that the man of mental endowments is seldom blessed with external goods. We daily hear complaints and lamentations on this subject: we daily witness shipwrecked hopes, and blasted prospects; and either by our own experience, or by being spectators of the ill luck of others, deplore the malevolence of fate, and the misery of genius. If we turn to those whose early years were distinguished by precocity of intellect, and powers of comprehension; whose quickness seemed to promise an abundant harvest for future years; whose mental vigour seemed as if it were destined to pierce the murky clouds of ignorance, and bear, like the eagle of Jove, the light of heaven in its grasp; in whose prattle was presaged the sarcasms of a Swift, or the eloquence of

a Fox, one sad and gloomy question unavoidably presents itself to our minds, Why, or how have these hopes been destroyed?"

Is the son of genius to bend beneath the child of fortune? Is the upstart of wealth, or the despot of serfs to trample on the heir of talent, or the possessor of science? Has heaven ordained that the lot of woe, of misery, aye, heart-rending misery should be drawn by those on whom it has bestowed the riches of the mind? Has it selected men who might command the awe, or win the applause of their fellow-creatures to receive the meed of derision and of scorn, or to reap the reward of cold indifference and harsh neglect? Perish the thought! Yet, when we reflect upon the death of Otway, or the miserable life of Chatterton, and Savage, we can hardly refrain from giving vent to thoughts both irrational and impious; for we perceive in these, and in other cases, a mysterious and alarming destiny attached to, and inseparable from talent.

But without going after far-fetched notions, or insupportable hypotheses, it is easy to assign a reason consistent with experience, and supported by truth. It is the want of tact, conjoined with talent, to which we may refer the misfortunes and calamities so often attendant on the ingenious portion of mankind. Those who are conscious of their own good qualities are naturally vain of them; vanity leads to pride, and pride to poverty. A man who has been pampered with adulation in his youth, expects it also when advanced in years; early applause but fits him for future celebrity, and in the end he looses the means. It is not only in this manner that want of tact is discernible: it presents itself in a hundred ways, in a thousand minute circumstances. Often it is not. seen, only felt. But as we are becoming prosy, we will

instance it by examples, rather than tire the reader by dry discussion.

George Arthurs was the son of a gentleman of good family, but small fortune. When young, George was distinguished by sedulity and quickness, which brought him beyond children of his own age. He soon began to talk and boast of his own family, who, in the expanding blossoms of his infant mind, discerned the growth of a mighty tree, beneath the shade of which they were destined to end their days in honour and dignity. His quickness of repartee, his great capacity of imitation, his aptness in whatever required natural powers, and not least, his inclination to put himself forward and display his ability, gave rise to early praise, and premature panegeric. As he grew older, he became vainer and more presumptuous, and never having been distinguished for extraordinary modesty it is not to be wondered at that his impudence increased with his years. Unabashed by authority, and unrestrained by reverence to his seniors, before he was in his fifteenth year he took upon himself to lead the conversation at the parties to which he was invited. And as his parents never went anywhere without young hopeful, a great portion of the country, (consisting of illiterate squires, and uncivilized tillers of the soil) derived considerable light from the lucubrations of George Arthurs. At the private school to which he had been sent he was treated with no small respect, both by masters and by pupils. His ipse dixit prevailed more among the boys in elucidating Horace, than the notes of Doering or Bently. When detected in ignorance he never was in want of a specious pretext or a clever argument; and thus, from what in others would have been considered disgrace, he derived no small glory and distinction. - It

was his boast that he was able to do that without reading, which others could acquire only by laborious and toilThis idleness was first produced by

some diligence.

flattery, and continued through vanity.

As his father was a man of small fortune, it was con(sidered doubtful whether he would send his son to college. But how could he resist the improvement of such talents? "Why, it would require but a temporary curtailment of his own expenses; and the advantages-they would more than requite him for any expense he might be put to; George would obtain such distinction."

Such were the arguments by which the worthy old gentleman was induced to deviate from a plan that he had once proposed to himself; namely, of sending George into an attorney's office, to "keep him quiet and steady." Accordingly, George was sent to Trinity College, Cambridge, for the purpose of being crowned with the conquering ivy" of that venerable establishment.

The first year he set to with diligence, and obtained the reputation of a steady reader, and an able man; but failing to obtain the scholarship, he became disgusted and apathetic; forsook the toil of hard study for the diversion of drinking; became an adept in slang, boxing, gaming, and all other delicate relaxations of the mind, to which so many of the British hereditary legislators, and possessors of family honours, are accustomed to have recourse. In this state he continued for a short time; for though he was weak, he was not wicked enough to plunge his father into poverty, which must have ensued had he continued his course of extravagance. "It's too late to begin reading now, heigho!" This used often to be his exclamation on receiving a letter from home, which used to abound with the usual admonitions to "keep to

his books, and, with God's blessing, he would become an honour to his parents."

George had always conceived a great penchant for politics, and being well versed in history, he used, when at home, to discuss the state of affairs with the country squires who came to his father's; and if report be true, he more than once wrote the leading article in the Town and County Journal. It is not surprising, then, that he often betook himself to the Union. At first he did not enter into the debates, but contented himself with the station of an auditor. But when he had become indifferent to academical distinction, his mind, which, to tell the truth, could not bear indolence, though it might be impatient of severe application, thirsted after new, and to him, more precious laurels. It happened that about this time the conduct of ministers was proposed as a subject for discussion. A warm debate was expected. George determined to make his debût on the occasion, and to " try a throw" with some of the veterans

of the Union.

The expected day and hour arrived. The assembly was densely crowded, as the great orators of "The House" were about to mix in the wordy strife. The debate was opened by S-, the great liberal speaker. He was a fine, tall, handsome man, with a dissipated and somewhat wild look, which lent an additional interest to his appearance. He seemed perfectly aware of the reverence in which he was held by the members; for, on rising, his nonchalance could only be equalled by the deep attention of the audience. He began in a low, husky, hoarse voice, with his hands in his pockets, and casting round his eyes with an air of the most provoking indifference upon the leaders of the opposite party. As