All true histories contain instruction; though, in some, the
treasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in
quantity, that the dry, shrivelled kernel scarcely compensates for
the trouble of cracking the nut. Whether this be the case with my
history or not, I am hardly competent to judge. I sometimes think
it might prove useful to some, and entertaining to others; but the
world may judge for itself. Shielded by my own obscurity, and by
the lapse of years, and a few fictitious names, I do not fear to
venture; and will candidly lay before the public what I would not
disclose to the most intimate friend.
My father was a clergyman of the north of England, who was
deservedly respected by all who knew him; and, in his younger days,
lived pretty comfortably on the joint income of a small incumbency
and a snug little property of his own. My mother, who married him
against the wishes of her friends, was a squire's daughter, and a
woman of spirit. In vain it was represented to her, that if she
became the poor parson's wife, she must relinquish her carriage and
her lady's-maid, and all the luxuries and elegancies of affluence;
which to her were little less than the necessaries of life. A
carriage and a lady's-maid were great conveniences; but, thank
heaven, she had feet to carry her, and hands to minister to her own
necessities. An elegant house and spacious grounds were not to be
despised; but she would rather live in a cottage with Richard Grey
than in a palace with any other man in the world.
Finding arguments of no avail, her father, at length, told the
lovers they might marry if they pleased; but, in so doing, his
daughter would forfeit every fraction of her fortune. He expected
this would cool the ardour of both; but he was mistaken. My father
knew too well my mother's superior worth not to be sensible that
she was a valuable fortune in herself: and if she would but
consent to embellish his humble hearth, he should be happy to take
her on any terms; while she, on her part, would rather labour with
her own hands than be divided from the man she loved, whose
happiness it would be her joy to make, and who was already one with
her in heart and soul. So her fortune went to swell the purse of a
wiser sister, who had married a rich nabob; and she, to the wonder
and compassionate regret of all who knew her, went to bury herself
in the homely village parsonage among the hills of -. And yet, in
spite of all this, and in spite of my mother's high spirit and my
father's whims, I believe you might search all England through, and
fail to find a happier couple.
Of six children, my sister Mary and myself were the only two that
survived the perils of infancy and early childhood. I, being the
younger by five or six years, was always regarded as THE child, and
the pet of the family: father, mother, and sister, all combined to
spoil me--not by foolish indulgence, to render me fractious and
ungovernable, but by ceaseless kindness, to make me too helpless
and dependent--too unfit for buffeting with the cares and turmoils
of life.
Mary and I were brought up in the strictest seclusion. My mother,
being at once highly accomplished, well informed, and fond of
employment, took the whole charge of our education on herself, with
the exception of Latin--which my father undertook to teach us--so
that we never even went to school; and, as there was no society in
the neighbourhood, our only intercourse with the world consisted in
a stately tea-party, now and then, with the principal farmers and
tradespeople of the vicinity (just to avoid being stigmatized as
too proud to consort with our neighbours), and an annual visit to
our paternal grandfather's; where himself, our kind grandmamma, a
maiden aunt, and two or three elderly ladies and gentlemen, were
the only persons we ever saw. Sometimes our mother would amuse us
with stories and anecdotes of her younger days, which, while they
entertained us amazingly, frequently awoke--in ME, at least--a
secret wish to see a little more of the world.
I thought she must have been very happy: but she never seemed to
regret past times. My father, however, whose temper was neither
tranquil nor cheerful by nature, often unduly vexed himself with
thinking of the sacrifices his dear wife had made for him; and
troubled his head with revolving endless schemes for the
augmentation of his little fortune, for her sake and ours. In vain
my mother assured him she was quite satisfied; and if he would but
lay by a little for the children, we should all have plenty, both
for time present and to come: but saving was not my father's
forte. He would not run in debt (at least, my mother took good
care he should not), but while he had money he must spend it: he
liked to see his house comfortable, and his wife and daughters well
clothed, and well attended; and besides, he was charitably
disposed, and liked to give to the poor, according to his means:
or, as some might think, beyond them.
At length, however, a kind friend suggested to him a means of
doubling his private property at one stroke; and further increasing
it, hereafter, to an untold amount. This friend was a merchant, a
man of enterprising spirit and undoubted talent, who was somewhat
straitened in his mercantile pursuits for want of capital; but
generously proposed to give my father a fair share of his profits,
if he would only entrust him with what he could spare; and he
thought he might safely promise that whatever sum the latter chose
to put into his hands, it should bring him in cent. per cent. The
small patrimony was speedily sold, and the whole of its price was
deposited in the hands of the friendly merchant; who as promptly
proceeded to ship his cargo, and prepare for his voyage.
My father was delighted, so were we all, with our brightening
prospects. For the present, it is true, we were reduced to the
narrow income of the curacy; but my father seemed to think there
was no necessity for scrupulously restricting our expenditure to
that; so, with a standing bill at Mr. Jackson's, another at
Smith's, and a third at Hobson's, we got along even more
comfortably than before: though my mother affirmed we had better
keep within bounds, for our prospects of wealth were but
precarious, after all; and if my father would only trust everything
to her management, he should never feel himself stinted: but he,
for once, was incorrigible.
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