But although in this case it would be
easy to exaggerate its import, yet, in the Jenkin family also, the
tragedy of the generations was proceeding, and the child was
growing out of his father's knowledge. His artistic aptitude was
of a different order. Already he had his quick sight of many sides
of life; he already overflowed with distinctions and
generalisations, contrasting the dramatic art and national
character of England, Germany, Italy, and France. If he were dull,
he would write stories and poems. 'I have written,' he says at
thirteen, 'a very long story in heroic measure, 300 lines, and
another Scotch story and innumerable bits of poetry'; and at the
same age he had not only a keen feeling for scenery, but could do
something with his pen to call it up. I feel I do always less than
justice to the delightful memory of Captain Jenkin; but with a lad
of this character, cutting the teeth of his intelligence, he was
sure to fall into the background.
The family removed in 1847 to Paris, where Fleeming was put to
school under one Deluc.
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