It would have been much easier to do all that than to make a reputation either in literature or painting,--easier, I mean, for a man starting in life with so many good cards in his hand as I had.
I have been sometimes represented as an unsuccessful painter who took to writing because he had failed as an artist. It is, of course, easy to state the matter so, but the exact truth is that a very moderate success in either literature or art would have been equally acceptable to me, so that there has been no other failure in my life than the usual one of not being able to catch two hares at the same time. Very few dogs have ever been able to do that.
I decided to try to be a painter and to try to be an author, and see what came of both attempts. My guardian always thought I should end by being an author, and though she had no prejudice against painting, she looked upon it as a pursuit likely to be very tedious, at times, to those who practise it, in which she was quite right. It is generally a hard struggle, requiring infinite patience, even in the clever and successful.
One of the first things I did was to go on horseback to the English Lake district in the summer of 1852, with the intention of continuing the journey, still on horseback, into the mountainous regions of Scotland. Unfortunately this project could not be executed with the horse I then possessed, the most dangerous, sulky, resolute, and cunning brute I ever mounted. I rode him as far as Keswick, where a horse-breaker tried him and said his temper was incurable, recommending me to have him shot. The advice was excellent, but I could not find it in my heart to destroy such a fine-looking animal, so I left him in grass at Penrith, and went on to Scotland by the usual means of travelling,--a change that I regret to this day.
I had materials with me for painting studies in oil, and painted at Windermere and Derwentwater. It was an inexpressible pleasure to see these lakes, and a mental torment not to be able to paint them better.
My first sight of Windermere (or of any natural lake, for I had hitherto seen nothing but fish-ponds and reservoirs) was enjoyed under peculiarly impressive circumstances. I had been riding alone or walking by the side of my horse during the night, and arrived at the lake shore by the guidance of a star. I wrote down my first impression next day, and have kept the words.