Fleeming was
precocious, and at thirteen had finished a romance of three hundred
lines in heroic measure, a Scotch novel, and innumerable poetical
fragments, none of which are now extant. He learned German in
Frankfort; and on the family migrating to Paris the following year, he
studied French and mathematics under a certain M. Deluc. While here,
Fleeming witnessed the outbreak of the Revolution of 1848, and heard the
first shot. In a letter written to an old schoolfellow while the sound
still rang in his ears, and his hand trembled with excitement, he gives
a boyish account of the circumstances. The family were living in the
Rue Caumartin, and on the evening of February 23 he and his father were
taking a walk along the boulevards, which were illuminated for joy at
the resignation of M. Guizot. They passed the residence of the Foreign
Minister, which was guarded with troops, and further on encountered a
band of rioters marching along the street with torches, and singing the
Marseillaise. After them came a rabble of men and women of all sorts,
rich and poor, some of them armed with sticks and sabres. They turned
back with these, the boy delighted with the spectacle, 'I remarked to
papa' (he writes),'I would not have missed the scene for anything.
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