But in truth, neither the lonely meditations of the hermit, nor the tumultuous raptures of the reveller, are capable of satisfying man’s heart.  From the one we gather unquiet speculation, from the other satiety.  The mind flags beneath the weight of thought, and droops in the heartless intercourse of those whose sole aim is amusement.  There is no fruition in their vacant kindness, and sharp rocks lurk beneath the smiling ripples of these shallow waters.

Thus I felt, when disappointment, weariness, and solitude drove me back upon my heart, to gather thence the joy of which it had become barren.  My flagging spirits asked for something to speak to the affections; and not finding it, I drooped.  Thus, notwithstanding the thoughtless delight that waited on its commencement, the impression I have of my life at Vienna is melancholy.  Goethe has said, that in youth we cannot be happy unless we love.  I did not love; but I was devoured by a restless wish to be something to others.  I became the victim of ingratitude and cold coquetry—­then I desponded, and imagined that my discontent gave me a right to hate the world.  I receded to solitude; I had recourse to my books, and my desire again to enjoy the society of Adrian became a burning thirst.

Emulation, that in its excess almost assumed the venomous properties of envy, gave a sting to these feelings.  At this period the name and exploits of one of my countrymen filled the world with admiration.  Relations of what he had done, conjectures concerning his future actions, were the never-failing topics of the hour.  I was not angry on my own account, but I felt as if the praises which this idol received were leaves torn from laurels destined for Adrian.  But I must enter into some account of this darling of fame—­this favourite of the wonder-loving world.

Lord Raymond was the sole remnant of a noble but impoverished family.  From early youth he had considered his pedigree with complacency, and bitterly lamented his want of wealth.  His first wish was aggrandisement; and the means that led towards this end were secondary considerations.  Haughty, yet trembling to every demonstration of respect; ambitious, but too proud to shew his ambition; willing to achieve honour, yet a votary of pleasure,—­ he entered upon life.  He was met on the threshold by some insult, real or imaginary; some repulse, where he least expected it; some disappointment, hard for his pride to bear.  He writhed beneath an injury he was unable to revenge; and he quitted England with a vow not to return, till the good time should arrive, when she might feel the power of him she now despised.