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<h2> CHAPTER 7 </h2>
<p>"ADDRESSING these memoirs to you, my child, uncertain whether I shall ever
have an opportunity of instructing you, many observations will probably
flow from my heart, which only a mother—a mother schooled in misery,
could make.</p>
<p>"The tenderness of a father who knew the world, might be great; but could
it equal that of a mother—of a mother, labouring under a portion of
the misery, which the constitution of society seems to have entailed on
all her kind? It is, my child, my dearest daughter, only such a mother,
who will dare to break through all restraint to provide for your happiness—who
will voluntarily brave censure herself, to ward off sorrow from your
bosom. From my narrative, my dear girl, you may gather the instruction,
the counsel, which is meant rather to exercise than influence your mind.—Death
may snatch me from you, before you can weigh my advice, or enter into my
reasoning: I would then, with fond anxiety, lead you very early in life to
form your grand principle of action, to save you from the vain regret of
having, through irresolution, let the spring-tide of existence pass away,
unimproved, unenjoyed.—Gain experience—ah! gain it—while
experience is worth having, and acquire sufficient fortitude to pursue
your own happiness; it includes your utility, by a direct path. What is
wisdom too often, but the owl of the goddess, who sits moping in a
desolated heart; around me she shrieks, but I would invite all the gay
warblers of spring to nestle in your blooming bosom.—Had I not
wasted years in deliberating, after I ceased to doubt, how I ought to have
acted—I might now be useful and happy.—For my sake, warned by
my example, always appear what you are, and you will not pass through
existence without enjoying its genuine blessings, love and respect.</p>
<p>"Born in one of the most romantic parts of England, an enthusiastic
fondness for the varying charms of nature is the first sentiment I
recollect; or rather it was the first consciousness of pleasure that
employed and formed my imagination.</p>
<p>"My father had been a captain of a man of war; but, disgusted with the
service, on account of the preferment of men whose chief merit was their
family connections or borough interest, he retired into the country; and,
not knowing what to do with himself—married. In his family, to
regain his lost consequence, he determined to keep up the same passive
obedience, as in the vessels in which he had commanded. His orders were
not to be disputed; and the whole house was expected to fly, at the word
of command, as if to man the shrouds, or mount aloft in an elemental
strife, big with life or death. He was to be instantaneously obeyed,
especially by my mother, whom he very benevolently married for love; but
took care to remind her of the obligation, when she dared, in the
slightest instance, to question his absolute authority. My eldest brother,
it is true, as he grew up, was treated with more respect by my father; and
became in due form the deputy-tyrant of the house. The representative of
my father, a being privileged by nature—a boy, and the darling of my
mother, he did not fail to act like an heir apparent. Such indeed was my
mother's extravagant partiality, that, in comparison with her affection
for him, she might be said not to love the rest of her children. Yet none
of the children seemed to have so little affection for her. Extreme
indulgence had rendered him so selfish, that he only thought of himself;
and from tormenting insects and animals, he became the despot of his
brothers, and still more of his sisters.</p>
<p>"It is perhaps difficult to give you an idea of the petty cares which
obscured the morning of my life; continual restraint in the most trivial
matters; unconditional submission to orders, which, as a mere child, I
soon discovered to be unreasonable, because inconsistent and
contradictory. Thus are we destined to experience a mixture of bitterness,
with the recollection of our most innocent enjoyments.</p>
<p>"The circumstances which, during my childhood, occurred to fashion my
mind, were various; yet, as it would probably afford me more pleasure to
revive the fading remembrance of newborn delight, than you, my child,
could feel in the perusal, I will not entice you to stray with me into the
verdant meadow, to search for the flowers that youthful hopes scatter in
every path; though, as I write, I almost scent the fresh green of spring—of
that spring which never returns!</p>
<p>"I had two sisters, and one brother, younger than myself, my brother
Robert was two years older, and might truly be termed the idol of his
parents, and the torment of the rest of the family. Such indeed is the
force of prejudice, that what was called spirit and wit in him, was
cruelly repressed as forwardness in me.</p>
<p>"My mother had an indolence of character, which prevented her from paying
much attention to our education. But the healthy breeze of a neighbouring
heath, on which we bounded at pleasure, volatilized the humours that
improper food might have generated. And to enjoy open air and freedom, was
paradise, after the unnatural restraint of our fireside, where we were
often obliged to sit three or four hours together, without daring to utter
a word, when my father was out of humour, from want of employment, or of a
variety of boisterous amusement. I had however one advantage, an
instructor, the brother of my father, who, intended for the church, had of
course received a liberal education. But, becoming attached to a young
lady of great beauty and large fortune, and acquiring in the world some
opinions not consonant with the profession for which he was designed, he
accepted, with the most sanguine expectations of success, the offer of a
nobleman to accompany him to India, as his confidential secretary.</p>
<p>"A correspondence was regularly kept up with the object of his affection;
and the intricacies of business, peculiarly wearisome to a man of a
romantic turn of mind, contributed, with a forced absence, to increase his
attachment. Every other passion was lost in this master-one, and only
served to swell the torrent. Her relations, such were his waking dreams,
who had despised him, would court in their turn his alliance, and all the
blandishments of taste would grace the triumph of love.—While he
basked in the warm sunshine of love, friendship also promised to shed its
dewy freshness; for a friend, whom he loved next to his mistress, was the
confident, who forwarded the letters from one to the other, to elude the
observation of prying relations. A friend false in similar circumstances,
is, my dearest girl, an old tale; yet, let not this example, or the frigid
caution of coldblooded moralists, make you endeavour to stifle hopes,
which are the buds that naturally unfold themselves during the spring of
life! Whilst your own heart is sincere, always expect to meet one glowing
with the same sentiments; for to fly from pleasure, is not to avoid pain!</p>
<p>"My uncle realized, by good luck, rather than management, a handsome
fortune; and returning on the wings of love, lost in the most enchanting
reveries, to England, to share it with his mistress and his friend, he
found them—united.</p>
<p>"There were some circumstances, not necessary for me to recite, which
aggravated the guilt of the friend beyond measure, and the deception, that
had been carried on to the last moment, was so base, it produced the most
violent effect on my uncle's health and spirits. His native country, the
world! lately a garden of blooming sweets, blasted by treachery, seemed
changed into a parched desert, the abode of hissing serpents.
Disappointment rankled in his heart; and, brooding over his wrongs, he was
attacked by a raging fever, followed by a derangement of mind, which only
gave place to habitual melancholy, as he recovered more strength of body.</p>
<p>"Declaring an intention never to marry, his relations were ever clustering
about him, paying the grossest adulation to a man, who, disgusted with
mankind, received them with scorn, or bitter sarcasms. Something in my
countenance pleased him, when I began to prattle. Since his return, he
appeared dead to affection; but I soon, by showing him innocent fondness,
became a favourite; and endeavouring to enlarge and strengthen my mind, I
grew dear to him in proportion as I imbibed his sentiments. He had a
forcible manner of speaking, rendered more so by a certain impressive
wildness of look and gesture, calculated to engage the attention of a
young and ardent mind. It is not then surprising that I quickly adopted
his opinions in preference, and reverenced him as one of a superior order
of beings. He inculcated, with great warmth, self-respect, and a lofty
consciousness of acting right, independent of the censure or applause of
the world; nay, he almost taught me to brave, and even despise its
censure, when convinced of the rectitude of my own intentions.</p>
<p>"Endeavouring to prove to me that nothing which deserved the name of love
or friendship, existed in the world, he drew such animated pictures of his
own feelings, rendered permanent by disappointment, as imprinted the
sentiments strongly on my heart, and animated my imagination. These
remarks are necessary to elucidate some peculiarities in my character,
which by the world are indefinitely termed romantic.</p>
<p>"My uncle's increasing affection led him to visit me often. Still, unable
to rest in any place, he did not remain long in the country to soften
domestic tyranny; but he brought me books, for which I had a passion, and
they conspired with his conversation, to make me form an ideal picture of
life. I shall pass over the tyranny of my father, much as I suffered from
it; but it is necessary to notice, that it undermined my mother's health;
and that her temper, continually irritated by domestic bickering, became
intolerably peevish.</p>
<p>"My eldest brother was articled to a neighbouring attorney, the shrewdest,
and, I may add, the most unprincipled man in that part of the country. As
my brother generally came home every Saturday, to astonish my mother by
exhibiting his attainments, he gradually assumed a right of directing the
whole family, not excepting my father. He seemed to take a peculiar
pleasure in tormenting and humbling me; and if I ever ventured to complain
of this treatment to either my father or mother, I was rudely rebuffed for
presuming to judge of the conduct of my eldest brother.</p>
<p>"About this period a merchant's family came to settle in our
neighbourhood. A mansion-house in the village, lately purchased, had been
preparing the whole spring, and the sight of the costly furniture, sent
from London, had excited my mother's envy, and roused my father's pride.
My sensations were very different, and all of a pleasurable kind. I longed
to see new characters, to break the tedious monotony of my life; and to
find a friend, such as fancy had pourtrayed. I cannot then describe the
emotion I felt, the Sunday they made their appearance at church. My eyes
were rivetted on the pillar round which I expected first to catch a
glimpse of them, and darted forth to meet a servant who hastily preceded a
group of ladies, whose white robes and waving plumes, seemed to stream
along the gloomy aisle, diffusing the light, by which I contemplated their
figures.</p>
<p>"We visited them in form; and I quickly selected the eldest daughter for
my friend. The second son, George, paid me particular attention, and
finding his attainments and manners superior to those of the young men of
the village, I began to imagine him superior to the rest of mankind. Had
my home been more comfortable, or my previous acquaintance more numerous,
I should not probably have been so eager to open my heart to new
affections.</p>
<p>"Mr. Venables, the merchant, had acquired a large fortune by unremitting
attention to business; but his health declining rapidly, he was obliged to
retire, before his son, George, had acquired sufficient experience, to
enable him to conduct their affairs on the same prudential plan, his
father had invariably pursued. Indeed, he had laboured to throw off his
authority, having despised his narrow plans and cautious speculation. The
eldest son could not be prevailed on to enter the firm; and, to oblige his
wife, and have peace in the house, Mr. Venables had purchased a commission
for him in the guards.</p>
<p>"I am now alluding to circumstances which came to my knowledge long after;
but it is necessary, my dearest child, that you should know the character
of your father, to prevent your despising your mother; the only parent
inclined to discharge a parent's duty. In London, George had acquired
habits of libertinism, which he carefully concealed from his father and
his commercial connections. The mask he wore, was so complete a covering
of his real visage, that the praise his father lavished on his conduct,
and, poor mistaken man! on his principles, contrasted with his brother's,
rendered the notice he took of me peculiarly flattering. Without any fixed
design, as I am now convinced, he continued to single me out at the dance,
press my hand at parting, and utter expressions of unmeaning passion, to
which I gave a meaning naturally suggested by the romantic turn of my
thoughts. His stay in the country was short; his manners did not entirely
please me; but, when he left us, the colouring of my picture became more
vivid—Whither did not my imagination lead me? In short, I fancied
myself in love—in love with the disinterestedness, fortitude,
generosity, dignity, and humanity, with which I had invested the hero I
dubbed. A circumstance which soon after occurred, rendered all these
virtues palpable. [The incident is perhaps worth relating on other
accounts, and therefore I shall describe it distinctly.]</p>
<p>"I had a great affection for my nurse, old Mary, for whom I used often to
work, to spare her eyes. Mary had a younger sister, married to a sailor,
while she was suckling me; for my mother only suckled my eldest brother,
which might be the cause of her extraordinary partiality. Peggy, Mary's
sister, lived with her, till her husband, becoming a mate in a West-Indian
trader, got a little before-hand in the world. He wrote to his wife from
the first port in the Channel, after his most successful voyage, to
request her to come to London to meet him; he even wished her to determine
on living there for the future, to save him the trouble of coming to her
the moment he came on shore; and to turn a penny by keeping a green-stall.
It was too much to set out on a journey the moment he had finished a
voyage, and fifty miles by land, was worse than a thousand leagues by sea.</p>
<p>"She packed up her alls, and came to London—but did not meet honest
Daniel. A common misfortune prevented her, and the poor are bound to
suffer for the good of their country—he was pressed in the river—and
never came on shore.</p>
<p>"Peggy was miserable in London, not knowing, as she said, 'the face of any
living soul.' Besides, her imagination had been employed, anticipating a
month or six weeks' happiness with her husband. Daniel was to have gone
with her to Sadler's Wells, and Westminster Abbey, and to many sights,
which he knew she never heard of in the country. Peggy too was thrifty,
and how could she manage to put his plan in execution alone? He had
acquaintance; but she did not know the very name of their places of abode.
His letters were made up of—How do you does, and God bless yous,—information
was reserved for the hour of meeting.</p>
<p>"She too had her portion of information, near at heart. Molly and Jacky
were grown such little darlings, she was almost angry that daddy did not
see their tricks. She had not half the pleasure she should have had from
their prattle, could she have recounted to him each night the pretty
speeches of the day. Some stories, however, were stored up—and Jacky
could say papa with such a sweet voice, it must delight his heart. Yet
when she came, and found no Daniel to greet her, when Jacky called papa,
she wept, bidding 'God bless his innocent soul, that did not know what
sorrow was.'—But more sorrow was in store for Peggy, innocent as she
was.—Daniel was killed in the first engagement, and then the papa
was agony, sounding to the heart.</p>
<p>"She had lived sparingly on his wages, while there was any hope of his
return; but, that gone, she returned with a breaking heart to the country,
to a little market town, nearly three miles from our village. She did not
like to go to service, to be snubbed about, after being her own mistress.
To put her children out to nurse was impossible: how far would her wages
go? and to send them to her husband's parish, a distant one, was to lose
her husband twice over.</p>
<p>"I had heard all from Mary, and made my uncle furnish a little cottage for
her, to enable her to sell—so sacred was poor Daniel's advice, now
he was dead and gone a little fruit, toys and cakes. The minding of the
shop did not require her whole time, nor even the keeping her children
clean, and she loved to see them clean; so she took in washing, and
altogether made a shift to earn bread for her children, still weeping for
Daniel, when Jacky's arch looks made her think of his father.—It was
pleasant to work for her children.—'Yes; from morning till night,
could she have had a kiss from their father, God rest his soul! Yes; had
it pleased Providence to have let him come back without a leg or an arm,
it would have been the same thing to her—for she did not love him
because he maintained them—no; she had hands of her own.'</p>
<p>"The country people were honest, and Peggy left her linen out to dry very
late. A recruiting party, as she supposed, passing through, made free with
a large wash; for it was all swept away, including her own and her
children's little stock.</p>
<p>"This was a dreadful blow; two dozen of shirts, stocks and handkerchiefs.
She gave the money which she had laid by for half a year's rent, and
promised to pay two shillings a week till all was cleared; so she did not
lose her employment. This two shillings a week, and the buying a few
necessaries for the children, drove her so hard, that she had not a penny
to pay her rent with, when a twelvemonth's became due.</p>
<p>"She was now with Mary, and had just told her tale, which Mary instantly
repeated—it was intended for my ear. Many houses in this town,
producing a borough-interest, were included in the estate purchased by Mr.
Venables, and the attorney with whom my brother lived, was appointed his
agent, to collect and raise the rents.</p>
<p>"He demanded Peggy's, and, in spite of her intreaties, her poor goods had
been seized and sold. So that she had not, and what was worse her
children, 'for she had known sorrow enough,' a bed to lie on. She knew
that I was good-natured—right charitable, yet not liking to ask for
more than needs must, she scorned to petition while people could any how
be made to wait. But now, should she be turned out of doors, she must
expect nothing less than to lose all her customers, and then she must beg
or starve—and what would become of her children?—'had Daniel
not been pressed—but God knows best—all this could not have
happened.'</p>
<p>"I had two mattresses on my bed; what did I want with two, when such a
worthy creature must lie on the ground? My mother would be angry, but I
could conceal it till my uncle came down; and then I would tell him all
the whole truth, and if he absolved me, heaven would.</p>
<p>"I begged the house-maid to come up stairs with me (servants always feel
for the distresses of poverty, and so would the rich if they knew what it
was). She assisted me to tie up the mattrass; I discovering, at the same
time, that one blanket would serve me till winter, could I persuade my
sister, who slept with me, to keep my secret. She entering in the midst of
the package, I gave her some new feathers, to silence her. We got the
mattrass down the back stairs, unperceived, and I helped to carry it,
taking with me all the money I had, and what I could borrow from my
sister.</p>
<p>"When I got to the cottage, Peggy declared that she would not take what I
had brought secretly; but, when, with all the eager eloquence inspired by
a decided purpose, I grasped her hand with weeping eyes, assuring her that
my uncle would screen me from blame, when he was once more in the country,
describing, at the same time, what she would suffer in parting with her
children, after keeping them so long from being thrown on the parish, she
reluctantly consented.</p>
<p>"My project of usefulness ended not here; I determined to speak to the
attorney; he frequently paid me compliments. His character did not
intimidate me; but, imagining that Peggy must be mistaken, and that no man
could turn a deaf ear to such a tale of complicated distress, I determined
to walk to the town with Mary the next morning, and request him to wait
for the rent, and keep my secret, till my uncle's return.</p>
<p>"My repose was sweet; and, waking with the first dawn of day, I bounded to
Mary's cottage. What charms do not a light heart spread over nature! Every
bird that twittered in a bush, every flower that enlivened the hedge,
seemed placed there to awaken me to rapture—yes; to rapture. The
present moment was full fraught with happiness; and on futurity I bestowed
not a thought, excepting to anticipate my success with the attorney.</p>
<p>"This man of the world, with rosy face and simpering features, received me
politely, nay kindly; listened with complacency to my remonstrances,
though he scarcely heeded Mary's tears. I did not then suspect, that my
eloquence was in my complexion, the blush of seventeen, or that, in a
world where humanity to women is the characteristic of advancing
civilization, the beauty of a young girl was so much more interesting than
the distress of an old one. Pressing my hand, he promised to let Peggy
remain in the house as long as I wished.—I more than returned the
pressure—I was so grateful and so happy. Emboldened by my innocent
warmth, he then kissed me—and I did not draw back—I took it
for a kiss of charity.</p>
<p>"Gay as a lark, I went to dine at Mr. Venables'. I had previously obtained
five shillings from my father, towards re-clothing the poor children of my
care, and prevailed on my mother to take one of the girls into the house,
whom I determined to teach to work and read.</p>
<p>"After dinner, when the younger part of the circle retired to the music
room, I recounted with energy my tale; that is, I mentioned Peggy's
distress, without hinting at the steps I had taken to relieve her. Miss
Venables gave me half-a-crown; the heir five shillings; but George sat
unmoved. I was cruelly distressed by the disappointment—I scarcely
could remain on my chair; and, could I have got out of the room
unperceived, I should have flown home, as if to run away from myself.
After several vain attempts to rise, I leaned my head against the marble
chimney-piece, and gazing on the evergreens that filled the fire-place,
moralized on the vanity of human expectations; regardless of the company.
I was roused by a gentle tap on my shoulder from behind Charlotte's chair.
I turned my head, and George slid a guinea into my hand, putting his
finger to his mouth, to enjoin me silence.</p>
<p>"What a revolution took place, not only in my train of thoughts, but
feelings! I trembled with emotion—now, indeed, I was in love. Such
delicacy too, to enhance his benevolence! I felt in my pocket every five
minutes, only to feel the guinea; and its magic touch invested my hero
with more than mortal beauty. My fancy had found a basis to erect its
model of perfection on; and quickly went to work, with all the happy
credulity of youth, to consider that heart as devoted to virtue, which had
only obeyed a virtuous impulse. The bitter experience was yet to come,
that has taught me how very distinct are the principles of virtue, from
the casual feelings from which they germinate."</p>
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