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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