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.
What happy hours Mary and I have passed while sitting at our work by the
fire, or wandering on the heath-clad hills, or idling under the weeping birch
(the only considerable tree in the garden), talking of future happiness to
ourselves and our parents, of what we would do, and see, and possess; with no
firmer foundation for our goodly superstructure than the riches that were
expected to flow in upon us from the success of the worthy merchant's
speculations. Our father was nearly as bad as ourselves; only that he affected
not to be so much in earnest: expressing his bright hopes and sanguine
expectations in jests and playful sallies, that always struck me as being
exceedingly witty and pleasant. Our mother laughed with delight to see him so
hopeful and happy: but still she feared he was setting his heart too much upon
the matter; and once I heard her whisper as she left the room, 'God grant he be
not disappointed! I know not how he would bear it.'
Disappointed he was; and bitterly, too. It came like a thunder- clap on us
all, that the vessel which contained our fortune had been wrecked, and gone to
the bottom with all its stores, together with several of the crew, and the
unfortunate merchant himself. I was grieved for him; I was grieved for the
overthrow of all our air-built castles: but, with the elasticity of youth, I
soon recovered the shook.
Though riches had charms, poverty had no terrors for an inexperienced girl
like me. Indeed, to say the truth, there was something exhilarating in the idea
of being driven to straits, and thrown upon our own resources. I only wished
papa, mamma, and Mary were all of the same mind as myself; and then, instead of
lamenting past calamities we might all cheerfully set to work to remedy them;
and the greater the difficulties, the harder our present privations, the greater
should be our cheerfulness to endure the latter, and our vigour to contend
against the former.
Mary did not lament, but she brooded continually over the misfortune, and
sank into a state of dejection from which no effort of mine could rouse her. I
could not possibly bring her to regard the matter on its bright side as I did:
and indeed I was so fearful of being charged with childish frivolity, or stupid
insensibility, that I carefully kept most of my bright ideas and cheering
notions to myself; well knowing they could not be appreciated.
My mother thought only of consoling my father, and paying our debts and
retrenching our expenditure by every available means; but my father was
completely overwhelmed by the calamity: health, strength, and spirits sank
beneath the blow, and he never wholly recovered them. In vain my mother strove
to cheer him, by appealing to his piety, to his courage, to his affection for
herself and us. That very affection was his greatest torment: it was for our
sakes he had so ardently longed to increase his fortune - it was our interest
that had lent such brightness to his hopes, and that imparted such bitterness to
his present distress. He now tormented himself with remorse at having neglected
my mother's advice; which would at least have saved him from the additional
burden of debt - he vainly reproached himself for having brought her from the
dignity, the ease, the luxury of her former station to toil with him through the
cares and toils of poverty. It was gall and wormwood to his soul to see that
splendid, highly-accomplished woman, once so courted and admired, transformed
into an active managing housewife, with hands and head continually occupied with
household labours and household economy. The very willingness with which she
performed these duties, the cheerfulness with which she bore her reverses, and
the kindness which withheld her from imputing the smallest blame to him, were
all perverted by this ingenious self-tormentor into further aggravations of his
sufferings. And thus the mind preyed upon the body, and disordered the system of
the nerves, and they in turn increased the troubles of the mind, till by action
and reaction his health was seriously impaired; and not one of us could convince
him that the aspect of our affairs was not half so gloomy, so utterly hopeless,
as his morbid imagination represented it to be.
The useful pony phaeton was sold, together with the stout, well-fed pony -
the old favourite that we had fully determined should end its days in peace, and
never pass from our hands; the little coach- house and stable were let; the
servant boy, and the more efficient (being the more expensive) of the two
maid-servants, were dismissed. Our clothes were mended, turned, and darned to
the utmost verge of decency; our food, always plain, was now simplified to an
unprecedented degree - except my father's favourite dishes; our coals and
candles were painfully economized - the pair of candles reduced to one, and that
most sparingly used; the coals carefully husbanded in the half-empty grate:
especially when my father was out on his parish duties, or confined to bed
through illness - then we sat with our feet on the fender, scraping the
perishing embers together from time to time, and occasionally adding a slight
scattering of the dust and fragments of coal, just to keep them alive. As for
our carpets, they in time were worn threadbare, and patched and darned even to a
greater extent than our garments. To save the expense of a gardener, Mary and I
undertook to keep the garden in order; and all the cooking and household work
that could not easily be managed by one servant- girl, was done by my mother and
sister, with a little occasional help from me: only a little, because, though a
woman in my own estimation, I was still a child in theirs; and my mother, like
most active, managing women, was not gifted with very active daughters: for this
reason - that being so clever and diligent herself, she was never tempted to
trust her affairs to a deputy, but, on the contrary, was willing to act and
think for others as well as for number one; and whatever was the business in
hand, she was apt to think that no one could do it so well as herself: so that
whenever I offered to assist her, I received such an answer as - 'No, love, you
cannot indeed - there's nothing here you can do. Go and help your sister, or get
her to take a walk with you - tell her she must not sit so much, and stay so
constantly in the house as she does - she may well look thin and dejected.'
'Mary, mamma says I'm to help you; or get you to take a walk with me; she
says you may well look thin and dejected, if you sit so constantly in the
house.'
'Help me you cannot, Agnes; and I cannot go out with YOU - I have far too
much to do.'
'Then let me help you.'
'You cannot, indeed, dear child. Go and practise your music, or play with the
kitten.'
There was always plenty of sewing on hand; but I had not been taught to cut
out a single garment, and except plain hemming and seaming, there was little I
could do, even in that line; for they both asserted that it was far easier to do
the work themselves than to prepare it for me: and besides, they liked better to
see me prosecuting my studies, or amusing myself - it was time enough for me to
sit bending over my work, like a grave matron, when my favourite little pussy
was become a steady old cat. Under such circumstances, although I was not many
degrees more useful than the kitten, my idleness was not entirely without
excuse.
Through all our troubles, I never but once heard my mother complain of our
want of money. As summer was coming on she observed to Mary and me, 'What a
desirable thing it would be for your papa to spend a few weeks at a
watering-place. I am convinced the sea-air and the change of scene would be of
incalculable service to him. But then, you see, there's no money,' she added,
with a sigh. We both wished exceedingly that the thing might be done, and
lamented greatly that it could not. 'Well, well!' said she, 'it's no use
complaining. Possibly something might be done to further the project after all.
Mary, you are a beautiful drawer. What do you say to doing a few more pictures
in your best style, and getting them framed, with the water-coloured drawings
you have already done, and trying to dispose of them to some liberal
picture-dealer, who has the sense to discern their merits?'
'Mamma, I should be delighted if you think they COULD be sold; and for
anything worth while.'
'It's worth while trying, however, my dear: do you procure the drawings, and
I'll endeavour to find a purchaser.'
'I wish I could do something,' said I.
'You, Agnes! well, who knows? You draw pretty well, too: if you choose some
simple piece for your subject, I daresay you will be able to produce something
we shall all be proud to exhibit.'
'But I have another scheme in my head, mamma, and have had long, only I did
not like to mention it.'
'Indeed! pray tell us what it is.'
'I should like to be a governess.'
My mother uttered an exclamation of surprise, and laughed. My sister dropped
her work in astonishment, exclaiming, 'YOU a governess, Agnes! What can you be
dreaming of?'
'Well! I don't see anything so VERY extraordinary in it. I do not pretend to
be able to instruct great girls; but surely I could teach little ones: and I
should like it so much: I am so fond of children. Do let me, mamma!'
'But, my love, you have not learned to take care of YOURSELF yet: and young
children require more judgment and experience to manage than elder ones.'
'But, mamma, I am above eighteen, and quite able to take care of myself, and
others too. You do not know half the wisdom and prudence I possess, because I
have never been tried.'
'Only think,' said Mary, 'what would you do in a house full of strangers,
without me or mamma to speak and act for you - with a parcel of children,
besides yourself, to attend to; and no one to look to for advice? You would not
even know what clothes to put on.'
'You think, because I always do as you bid me, I have no judgment of my own:
but only try me - that is all I ask - and you shall see what I can do.'
At that moment my father entered and the subject of our discussion was
explained to him.
'What, my little Agnes a governess!' cried he, and, in spite of his
dejection, he laughed at the idea.
'Yes, papa, don't YOU say anything against it: I should like it so much; and
I am sure I could manage delightfully.'
'But, my darling, we could not spare you.' And a tear glistened in his eye as
he added - 'No, no! afflicted as we are, surely we are not brought to that pass
yet.'
'Oh, no!' said my mother. 'There is no necessity whatever for such a step; it
is merely a whim of her own. So you must hold your tongue, you naughty girl;
for, though you are so ready to leave us, you know very well we cannot part with
YOU.'
I was silenced for that day, and for many succeeding ones; but still I did
not wholly relinquish my darling scheme. Mary got her drawing materials, and
steadily set to work. I got mine too; but while I drew, I thought of other
things. How delightful it would be to be a governess! To go out into the world;
to enter upon a new life; to act for myself; to exercise my unused faculties; to
try my unknown powers; to earn my own maintenance, and something to comfort and
help my father, mother, and sister, besides exonerating them from the provision
of my food and clothing; to show papa what his little Agnes could do; to
convince mamma and Mary that I was not quite the helpless, thoughtless being
they supposed. And then, how charming to be entrusted with the care and
education of children! Whatever others said, I felt I was fully competent to the
task: the clear remembrance of my own thoughts in early childhood would be a
surer guide than the instructions of the most mature adviser. I had but to turn
from my little pupils to myself at their age, and I should know, at once, how to
win their confidence and affections: how to waken the contrition of the erring;
how to embolden the timid and console the afflicted; how to make Virtue
practicable, Instruction desirable, and Religion lovely and comprehensible.
- Delightful task! To teach the young idea how to shoot!
To train the tender plants, and watch their buds unfolding day by day!
Influenced by so many inducements, I determined still to persevere; though
the fear of displeasing my mother, or distressing my father's feelings,
prevented me from resuming the subject for several days. At length, again, I
mentioned it to my mother in private; and, with some difficulty, got her to
promise to assist me with her endeavours. My father's reluctant consent was next
obtained, and then, though Mary still sighed her disapproval, my dear, kind
mother began to look out for a situation for me. She wrote to my father's
relations, and consulted the newspaper advertisements - her own relations she
had long dropped all communication with: a formal interchange of occasional
letters was all she had ever had since her marriage, and she would not at any
time have applied to them in a case of this nature. But so long and so entire
had been my parents' seclusion from the world, that many weeks elapsed before a
suitable situation could be procured. At last, to my great joy, it was decreed
that I should take charge of the young family of a certain Mrs. Bloomfield; whom
my kind, prim aunt Grey had known in her youth, and asserted to be a very nice
woman. Her husband was a retired tradesman, who had realized a very comfortable
fortune; but could not be prevailed upon to give a greater salary than
twenty-five pounds to the instructress of his children. I, however, was glad to
accept this, rather than refuse the situation - which my parents were inclined
to think the better plan.
But some weeks more were yet to be devoted to preparation. How long, how
tedious those weeks appeared to me! Yet they were happy ones in the main - full
of bright hopes and ardent expectations. With what peculiar pleasure I assisted
at the making of my new clothes, and, subsequently, the packing of my trunks!
But there was a feeling of bitterness mingling with the latter occupation too;
and when it was done - when all was ready for my departure on the morrow, and
the last night at home approached - a sudden anguish seemed to swell my heart.
My dear friends looked so sad, and spoke so very kindly, that I could scarcely
keep my eyes from overflowing: but I still affected to be gay. I had taken my
last ramble with Mary on the moors, my last walk in the garden, and round the
house; I had fed, with her, our pet pigeons for the last time - the pretty
creatures that we had tamed to peck their food from our hands: I had given a
farewell stroke to all their silky backs as they crowded in my lap. I had
tenderly kissed my own peculiar favourites, the pair of snow-white fantails; I
had played my last tune on the old familiar piano, and sung my last song to
papa: not the last, I hoped, but the last for what appeared to me a very long
time. And, perhaps, when I did these things again it would be with different
feelings: circumstances might be changed, and this house might never be my
settled home again. My dear little friend, the kitten, would certainly be
changed: she was already growing a fine cat; and when I returned, even for a
hasty visit at Christmas, would, most likely, have forgotten both her playmate
and her merry pranks. I had romped with her for the last time; and when I
stroked her soft bright fur, while she lay purring herself to sleep in my lap,
it was with a feeling of sadness I could not easily disguise. Then at bed-time,
when I retired with Mary to our quiet little chamber, where already my drawers
were cleared out and my share of the bookcase was empty - and where, hereafter,
she would have to sleep alone, in dreary solitude, as she expressed it - my
heart sank more than ever: I felt as if I had been selfish and wrong to persist
in leaving her; and when I knelt once more beside our little bed, I prayed for a
blessing on her and on my parents more fervently than ever I had done before. To
conceal my emotion, I buried my face in my hands, and they were presently bathed
in tears. I perceived, on rising, that she had been crying too: but neither of
us spoke; and in silence we betook ourselves to our repose, creeping more
closely together from the consciousness that we were to part so soon.
But the morning brought a renewal of hope and spirits. I was to depart early;
that the conveyance which took me (a gig, hired from Mr. Smith, the draper,
grocer, and tea-dealer of the village) might return the same day. I rose,
washed, dressed, swallowed a hasty breakfast, received the fond embraces of my
father, mother, and sister, kissed the cat - to the great scandal of Sally, the
maid - shook hands with her, mounted the gig, drew my veil over my face, and
then, but not till then, burst into a flood of tears. The gig rolled on; I
looked back; my dear mother and sister were still standing at the door, looking
after me, and waving their adieux. I returned their salute, and prayed God to
bless them from my heart: we descended the hill, and I could see them no more.
'It's a coldish mornin' for you, Miss Agnes,' observed Smith; 'and a darksome
'un too; but we's happen get to yon spot afore there come much rain to signify.'
'Yes, I hope so,' replied I, as calmly as I could.
'It's comed a good sup last night too.'
'Yes.'
'But this cold wind will happen keep it off.'
'Perhaps it will.'
Here ended our colloquy. We crossed the valley, and began to ascend the
opposite hill. As we were toiling up, I looked back again; there was the village
spire, and the old grey parsonage beyond it, basking in a slanting beam of
sunshine - it was but a sickly ray, but the village and surrounding hills were
all in sombre shade, and I hailed the wandering beam as a propitious omen to my
home. With clasped hands I fervently implored a blessing on its inhabitants, and
hastily turned away; for I saw the sunshine was departing; and I carefully
avoided another glance, lest I should see it in gloomy shadow, like the rest of
the landscape.
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