Pity that some
self-made intellectual man of our time has not flung in the world's
teeth a truthful autobiography. Scawthorne worked himself up to a
position which had at first seemed unattainable; what he paid for
the success was loss of all his pure ideals, of his sincerity, of
his disinterestedness, of the fine perceptions to which he was born.
Probably no one who is half-starved and overworked during those
critical years comes out of the trial with his moral nature
uninjured; to certain characters it is a wrong irreparable. To stab
the root of a young tree, to hang crushing burdens upon it, to rend
off its early branches--that is not the treatment likely to result
in growth such as nature purposed. There will come of it a vicious
formation, and the principle applies also to the youth of men.
Scawthorne was fond of the theatre; as soon as his time of incessant
toll was over, he not only attended performances frequently, but
managed to make personal acquaintance with sundry theatrical people.
Opportunity for this was afforded by his becoming member of a club,
consisting chiefly of solicitors' clerks, which was frequently
honoured by visits from former associates who had taken to the
stage; these happy beings would condescend to recite at times, to
give help in getting up a dramatic entertainment, and soon, in this
way, Scawthorne came to know an old actor named Drake, who supported
himself by instructing novices, male and female, in his own
profession; one of Mr.
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