 | CHAPTER II. The life and adventures of Arthur Clenning, in two volumes |  |
They both stood petrified with amazement and
indignation, while they were reading this cool,
cutting and unnatural letter. The husband had
the satisfaction to see the daughter, in this severe
trial, yield to the wife and the mother. A
momentary paleness, and a few starting tears
marked the impulse of filial feeling. But it was
followed by the burning blush of shame, and
offended pride and humanity. Whatever views
they took, they were rather braced than dispirited
and discouraged. Such cruel indignity could
be met by but one feeling. Rescue looked upon
them while this decisive letter was reading, with
such affectionate curiosity to know the contents,
that they read it to her. The terms, as might
be expected, said nothing to her. But when
they explained the purport, she snapped her
fingers, as vehemently from wrath, as she was
accustomed to do at other times from joy. “Oh!
massee,” she said, “these bad white people.
You no call that man father. Walls black.
Smoky houses. Bawl, cry all day and all night,
sweeps all smut. No heart here. All bad. You
starve here for want eat. Sky black. Sun, he
no shine. White people bad! bad! Bad over
the sea. Worse here. Oh! massee, go, go to
Rescue's island. Never mind. You like to stay
here. Me strong. All say, you good, Rescue,
for work. Me work hard. We make eat. Dear
little missee, you no die for starve!” At the
same time she pressed the babe to her bosom,
and watered its face with tears.
This artless and disinterested affection of Rescue,
brought relief also to Augusta, in the form
of tears, which she shed freely and which her
husband wiped away. They agreed, that after
such an example, by a person comparatively
unconnected with their sufferings, it would be
pusillanimous to sit down, and give themselves
up to unnerving despondency. The emergency
of the case drew from Augusta unwonted marks
of tenderness to her husband, whom she now
perceived to be all of protection and hope that
remained to her. While her husband lamented
the poverty and ruin that he had entailed upon
her, she assured him, that if at that moment all
the advantages of her former condition, and the
most cordial reception from her father, were
spread before her on the one hand, and her
husband and babe on the other, she should not
hesitate a moment She declared, that she was
the world; that her heart was humbled, and her
desires limited to competence and obscurity with
her husband and child; and that all she now
wished was, that they might immediately seek
for honest employment, in which they might eat
the bread of industry.
But when they reviewed the subject, after they
had retired to their beds, he thought it possible
that her father might yet relent. It was incredible
to him, that there could be a human heart
formed as his appeared to be. It was in vain
that she warned him of his inflexibility of purpose,
and that any farther efforts to move him
would only be to experience new disappointment
and humiliation. He, on the contrary, insisted
that his conscience would reproach him until he
was sure that he had made all possible efforts;
and that no part of the failure could be attributed
to their want of exertion, or neglect to use all
the means of attempt, to soften his heart to the
feelings and the claims of nature. They considered
whether it would be expedient for her to
accompany her husband on his purposed visit to
her father. She shrunk from the idea, as one
too harrowing and of too much pain, and admitted,
that the very thought of such a meeting was
insupportable. She had indulged, she said, the
long and bitter penance of hope deferred. It was
now for ever crushed; and all she wished for the
towards her father, and a firm and persevering
purpose to look for no future prospects, but
those which should arise from personal labour
and exertion for themselves.
Such views of the forbearance and generous
feeling of his wife, supplied him in the morning
with an indignation, that he trusted would stand
him instead of self-possession and eloquence,
and forearming himself as he might from other
sources, he set out immediately after breakfast
in the morning for the court end of the city,
where Mr. Wellman resided. His splendid mansion
was found without difficulty, being conspicuous
among those aristocratic establishments.
He rang for admittance. A gaily dressed servant,
in the reflected insolence of his master,
surveyed him in a moment from head to foot;
and he was painfully aware, made up his conclusion,
that he was a person of very little consequence.
He somewhat hesitatingly said, that
his master was not at home. Mr. Clenning replied,
that this would not pass with him; and if
his master was at home, he had business of importance
with him and must see him. He had
the satisfaction to remark, that his erect and
stern manner induced the servant to survey him
again. He had been used to seeing the poor, at
once obsequious and timid. He appeared to
think, that there must be more in this applicant
associated in his thoughts with concealed
importance, and he showed him in with some
degree of deference, observing that perhaps he
was mistaken, and he would inquire if his master
was about the house. He followed this servant
along a corridor of patrician grandeur.
The frowning portraits of the great ancestors
seemed to upbraid the humble stranger for his
unhallowed alliance with their blood, as they
looked at him from their walls. Every thing
wore the cold, repulsive and petrifying air of
aristocratic insolence. A spiral staircase conducted
him to an apartment, into which he was
desired to enter. With a kind of ironical surprise
at finding his master there, the servant
announced his name. In this splendid apartment
sat Mr. Wellman on a sopha. Notwithstanding
the change wrought by six years, Mr.
Clenning instantly recognized his countenance,
and had the satisfaction to perceive, that his was
as well remembered, though Mr. Wellman affected
not to know him. He was received with
a cold and measured civility, and was asked his
commands. He commenced his story, and appealed
to events on their passage in the Australasia.
“Oh yes,” said Mr. Wellman, “you are
right. You are the person who went out with
us steward of that unlucky ship. How have you
been, sir? Will you please to relate your business
first words that arose to his tongue. Mr. Wellman
visibly enjoyed his embarrassment and
hesitation, little divining the motive from which
it arose. He paused until he had gained entire
self-command, and then resumed his story, by
remarking, that after the information which had
reached him, if it were necessary for him still to
explain his wishes in this interview, he might as
well retire in silence. “Exactly so,” answered
Mr. Wellman, with a calm smile. “I regret
that you should have given yourself the unnecessary
trouble to call, after what I wrote yesterday
to my late daughter. If she be indeed with you,
she knows precisely on what terms she may expect
my recognition and favour. It is possible
she communicated the contents of that letter to
you.” Mr. Clenning replied, that she had; and
proceeded to a detail of the prominent incidents
of their residence together on the island. “Sir,”
replied Mr. Wellman, “this detail is wholly unnecessary.
The relation cannot be pleasant to
either. It is an unhappy business. If you can
find means to publish it, the romance in the
story might turn it to profit. But I am a mere
plain son of the earth, a matter of fact man, who
care little for that sort of things. Let all that
pass. I deem you to be a man of shrewdness
and cleverness in your way. I appeal to yourself,
sir; to your knowledge of the world. Fortune
family, which cannot be helped. It is now time
that it be terminated. You know all that I
would say to you. There need be no sensibility
or eloquence expended upon either side. When
you please to call upon me in any other relation
than that which you now affect to sustain, I shall
wait upon with pleasure. At present I regret
to say I am engaged. Joseph, please to
show this gentleman down stairs. Sir, I have
the honour to wish you a good morning.”
There are indignities of a certain class, that
preclude all compromise, and all possibility that
an honourable man can ever submit voluntarily
to endure them a second time. Such he felt to
be the present one. He turned calmly away,
fully determined never to meet with this man
again, and he walked down the magnificent passages
with such a real contempt for the hearfless
possessor, and such feelings of inward complacency
of self-comparison, that indignation and
contempt served him instead of philosophy.
But on his way home, this feeling no longer
sustained him, when he thought how he should
break the result of this interview to his wife. It
was painful even to remember the relation between
her and this man; and he found a struggle
necessary in order to break off the association,
that a woman so inexpressibly dear to him, was
the daughter of such a father. When he returned
a contrast to the house he had just visited, he
found any relation of the success of his interview
unnecessary. “My dear Arthur,” said his
wife, “had you not been too wilful to listen to
your wife, all this might have been spared. You
must allow yourself to doubt for a moment,
whether I have a heart. It becomes me to remember
my father, and pray for him. It becomes
you to banish all thoughts, that connect
me with him. Let us be humble and industrious,
affectionate and contented, and forget all
that I once was.” She kissed alternately her
babe and her husband, and paused for a moment,
under the influence of emotion that would not be
suppressed. She then calmly resumed, “Had
my father received me to favour, I should have
plunged once more into the extravagance and
dissipation incident to our course of life. My
pride would have taken root anew in my heart.
A thousand circumstances, my dear Arthur,
would have wounded you with odious comparisons.
I am sure of your love. Had it continued
in the new order of things, your heart would
have been broken. My reason, my better judgment
tells me, that happiness is with peace and
humility, and industry, in the shade. Look at
our sweet babe. See how perfectly healthy it is.
I, too, am well. Rescue loves us, and is strong,
and with us for evil or good. Let us love each
proud, my dear Arthur, of showing you that I
can be a philosopher, as I should have been to
be pointed out as the brightest star of attraction,
in the circle which would have assembled
round me at my father's house. You shall never
see me gloomy, or showing regret for what I
have lost. You shall never have occasion to
doubt for a moment that I remember all that
you have been to me; and that if the alternative
were offered again, I would hesitate to do
again what I have done. Thank God, misfortunes
have taught me the necessity of high purpose
and resolve. We will pass the waves once
more. To prove to you how entirely every
thought is identified with you, I wish to go with
you to your own country, and in its shades forget
that I was ever a fine lady.”
It may be imagined with what eyes this happy
husband contemplated his young and lovely
wife, making a strong effort to repress her native
pride, and forming these noble and necessary
resolutions, in their little, dark, miserable
apartment; her eyes glistening with tenderness
and affection, through the tears which contending
emotions had started. He was just returned
from the splendid mansion, which was ready to
open to welcome her on the simple condition of
renouncing her husband. He remembered, too,
the myriads to whom that tie is a galling yoke,
would renounce it with joy, were it in their
power, at the simple temptation of regaining
freedom. He was too deeply read in human
nature, not to see all that was implied in this
deportment. He strained his wife to his bosom
with deeper sentiments than those known by the
name of love. “Augusta,” said he, “you arm
me with unfailing strength to do, or suffer. Have
no fear. We will go to America, and my whole
study shall be to become an example to husbands,
as you are to wives.”
He immediately went abroad in search of the
means of subsistence—a sufficiently disheartening
business in such a place. But the cheering
sensation, derived from this conversation at home
encouraged him, and imparted warmth and confidence
to sustain him under repulse, discouragement,
and failure. He returned, and as the lips
of his wife pressed his cheek, dejection fled. He
went abroad envigorated to sustain new repulses
and the extinction of one hope and project after
another. Day after day passed, in fruitless
efforts to obtain subsistence. Dollar after dollar
disappeared, and the baker and the landlord
appeared within an hour after their weekly claims
were due. Rescue sometimes allowed a tear to
escape her dark olive cheek, as they contracted
their three meals to two, and began to husband
the crumbs with a silent, but heart-rending economy.
she saw her master returning with discouragement
and failure on his brow. “Will they let
my sweet little missee starve?” The object of
these unutterable feelings, meanwhile, chirped
and amused herself with her first efforts to walk
about the room, in the glee of infantine existence,
happily unconscious of the agony of anxiety
felt on her account, and exulting in the joyous
perception of her growing strength.
The first avails of their industry were from the
hands of his wife, whose beautiful needle-work
finally found an employer. She wrought incessantly
during her husband's discouraging excursions
for employment abroad. She afterwards
declared, that the proudest and happiest moment
of her existence was that, when by actual experiment,
she convinced her husband that she had
earned in a day, some trifle more than its expenditures.
Rescue, too, found employment in the
kitchen of their landlady, and that was sufficient
to discharge their rent. Such omens began to
cheer them at the moment of the lowest ebb of
their fortunes, and when but five dollars remained
to them. It is true it was but bread, the cheapest
and coarsest fare, that could be obtained by their
united exertions; and if from sickness or want of
employment, they should remit their exertions
for a day, the stream carried them down again.
But such is the effect of circumstances, even this
the recent prospect of actual want staring them
in the face.
At length, to his inexpressible joy, he also
found employment, as a transcriber in the office
of a considerable publisher. He had laboured
three days on trial, and was accepted after that
probation. The united avails of their industry,
not only warranted the addition of various comforts
to their living, but considerably exceeded
their expenses. A bank was immediately commenced,
which was to constitute an accumulating
fund, until it should amount to a sufficiency to
pay their passage to America. The most pleasant
circumstance appertaining to his employment
was, that he could carry home the thing
in hand to be transcribed, and labour on it in the
enjoyment of the society of his wife. She, meanwhile,
plied her needle incessantly, only now
and then pausing to watch the delighted efforts
of her babe, to make its independent way by
the chairs and tables round the room, or occasionally
struggling to climb the father's knee,
and arrest the movements of his pen, to give him
the more pleasant employment of fondling, and
playing with it. How few there are who can
realize, that people so situated and occupied,
could be happy! Yet they were then a thousand
times happier than the tenants of palaces, in the
repinings, and the tortures of pride and envy.
With the first hour of leisure, in this new predicament
of comparative comfort and hope, he
wrote to the kind friend at New Holland, who
had loaned him a thousand dollars, informing
him faithfully, though with infinite regret, how
his hopes with Mr. Wellman had terminated, and
promising that he would never lose sight of the
debt, until Providence should open to him some
way of discharging it. Whenever he had a
leisure hour in the intervals of his employment,
he hasted to the river to make himself acquainted
with the American captains; determining, as
soon as he could find one in whom he could
have confidence, and who would trust him for
a passage to America, to embark for that free
and abundant country. He had learned not to
be discouraged with the first repulse, and if he
failed in his purposes to-day, to cheer himself
with better hopes for the morrow.
Divines have preached that happiness is a
thing of the mind. Poets have sung, and moralists
prosed to the same tune. They were placed
in a predicament to feel, that it depended on
themselves. More frequently than at first, he
was compelled to remain all day at the office
where he was employed, and this was a painful
privation to him, to whose heart home was a
paradise, and every other place a wilderness.
highly estimated. Others were ready to make
him better offers, and his wages were raised.
Here, then, for the most part, he drudged through
the day. But he had learned the all-important
axiom of philosophy, that pleasure must always
be earned by abstinence and privation. He cast
an occasional glance from his constant employment,
to the hand on the dial plate of an old
clock that ticked in his office, watching the pointing
that should indicate the time when he might
rise from his desk and hie home to his own little
world. To say that he waited this moment as the
lover does the hour of his appointment, would but
faintly shadow his feeling. There is a sacredness
in the thought of home, and the embraces of a
beloved wife and children, with which the throbbings
of desire and the transports of sense can
bear no parallel. His step was recognized as he
mounted the stairs. The infant Augusta began to
frolic. The mother received him with open arms.
Just before supper, the labours of Rescue were
completed, and she joined them by her eager affection,
and the bounding of her ardent heart in
the joy of home, and by the simple shrewdness
of her mind, and her amusing dialect increasing
their enjoyments. Sometimes she sung her own
namby pamby to her favourite babe; and at
others sat with intense interest, looking in the
countenances of her master and mistress, as they
the pure and high domestic satisfactions
of a long evening by the privations and absence
of the day of labour. Not unfrequently they instituted
fair and philosophical comparisons of
their present condition with the noble grotto, the
smiling sky, the flowering forest, and the solitary
and indolent exuberance of their island residence.
With Rescue, there was always but one feeling,
and this was, that she would be glad if they
could mount the winds, and fly back again to
that happy country. But her master and misstress
reasoned more justly. They understood
the influence of moral ties, the necessary associations
with social life, the power of habit, and the
necessity of giving value to repose by toil, and
of purchasing enjoyment by privation. They
came to the conviction, that even their present
modes of life, unpleasant as they were in some
respects, were not only more useful to others, but
happier to themselves, than to reside in a region
where they had few relative duties, and scarcely
any thing to do but to chase after an enjoyment
which in such cases is too apt still to keep in
advance of the pursuers. Seclusion, they were
convinced, was but for dreaming enthusiasts;
and the solitary shades of their late island, only
fit for pastoral songs. In the stern walks of competition
and industry, they felt that there was
not only the call of duty, but the best meed of
healthy, and useful; and felt that they were
happy, and ought to be so. Their little daughter
grew in strength, beauty, and endearment;
and its innocent prattle never failed to make its
way to their hearts. The only drawback to
their felicity was their inability to pay their debt
to their New Holland friend, and to find an
American captain ready to trust them for the
price of a passage to America.
Mr. Clenning was surprised one evening on
his return from his daily toil, to find in their
humble apartment a young gentleman apparently
of the age of twenty-five, with a fine person, superbly
dressed, and in his whole appearance and
bearing, discovering to the most superficial
glance, that he was of high rank and one of the
favourites of fortune. He saw, too, that his wife
had been in tears. The stranger evidently had
studied to preserve the insolent indifference,
proper to carry him through his purpose; which
was, against the remonstrances of Augusta, to
see and converse with her husband. But it would
not do, and his countenance blenched with guilty
confusion. He introduced himself as Frederic B.
Mr. Clenning remembered in a moment, that he
had heard his wife mention the name a hundred
times, and speak of him as the most interesting
and favoured of her admirers. He was titled,
rich, accomplished, and of extensive country influence.
espoused a different interest; and to a man rich,
proud, wilful, and devoted inflexibly to his opinions,
this difference had proved a barrier in the
way of accepting him as a favoured lover for his
daughter. One of the inducements of the father
to emigrate to New Holland, was to arrest the
progress of this growing liking between the parties.
The father had returned, and found interests
reversed. Lord Frederic B. was now as
strongly identified with the schemes of Mr. Wellman,
as he had been formerly opposed to them.
He gained assurance, as he explained these circumstances
to Mr. Clenning. He proceeded
with dissembled calmness, to announce the purport
of his visit, very adroitly prefacing his
speech with the kindest and most generous intentions
towards Mr. Clenning, and hoping that in
the issue he should make it appear that he had
his interests in view, as well as those of all the
parties concerned. The comparison which
flashed across Mr. Clenning's mind, in reference
to the difference of their personal appearance in
the eye of Augusta, was certainly calculated to excite
no small jealousy and heart burning. He surveyed
him, however, with a cool sternness, which
clearly disconcerted the young nobleman exceedingly,
and begged him to be prompt in disclosing
his statements. The young gentleman, with a
voice evidently ill assured, proceeded to state that
proposals. The husband and the wife started at
the same moment at the term. He turned alternately
pale and red, as he proceeded with the
purport of his message. It was neither more not
less than to pay over to Mr. Clenning a considerable
sum of money, on condition that he
would take the babe and embark with it for
America. His passage he said should be paid;
and if even a greater sum than he had offered
was necessary, he requested him to name such an
amount as would be satisfactory. He remarked
that on those terms Augusta would be received
and owned by her father. He proceeded with a
great degree of acuteness and even eloquence to
demonstrate that it was impossible either of the
parties could be supposed to be happy, or to
have any grounds of hoping to be so hereafter,
as affairs then stood: this arrangement would be
preferable in every point of view to all concerned.
To Mr. Clenning it would bring comparative
opulence and consequent consideration in his
own country. It would enable him suitably to
educate his child. It would restore his wife, he
added, with some hesitation, to her own walk and
condition in life, and to the bosom, the house, and
wealth of the most affectionate of fathers. He
concluded, by remarking, that it was easy to talk
of affection, but that it had never been found
capable of sustaining the pinching influence of
not fail to see that the only real proof which her
husband could give her of disinterested regard,
was to promote her real interest, more especially
as at the same time he advanced his own. He
did not doubt that he loved her: Who could
have been so situated, and have felt otherwise?
He earnestly hoped that she would see in its
true light any hesitancy on the part of Mr.
Clenning, to comply with proposals so indispensable
to her happiness. He closed and awaited
their response.
Tears started to her eyes, but her countenance
glowed with indignation, and she looked to her
husband to reply. “You hear,” said he,
“Augusta, what kind thoughts this gentleman
entertains in reference to us. I am as perfectly
aware as he is, that I am in the way of what the
world will prononuce your interest. It is useless
for me to make professions any farther than to
say, that I deceive myself, Augusta, if I do not
prefer your interest to my own. It would be
too much to exact of me, to advise you to accept
these proffered terms. Consider the matter
calmly, Augusta, and as you will see it hereafter,
when poverty, sickness, and sorrow may
press upon us. Be deliberate, and lay every
consideration that might tend to pervert your
judgment out of the case; and take care that
you do not imbitter the future, by rejecting
with unavailing regret.” With this, he
took the little Augusta in his arms, kissing her,
and saying, “Sweet, will you go with father, and
live in the American woods?” While the child
was lisping her consent, Augusta answered with
unwonted severity, “Arthur, I had not expected
this cruel irony from you. In another place it
might have been harmless pleasantry. Here it
is unworthy trifling with my feelings. I am not
sir,” she added, turning to her former admirer,
“what you once knew, a giddy and thoughtless
girl, but a principled and virtuous wife and
mother. You may imagine what you please, in
regard to the difference which fortune has made
between you and my husband. But to know
with what eyes I look upon him, you must have
been in all the positions in which I have been
placed. Nobleness is of the mind, and no other
person would have acted as he has done. I am
outraged by this conversation. If you will be
gone, and never repeat your visit, I enjoin forbearance
on my husband until you are away.”
Observing the blood mounting to the face of her
husband, she said, “Arthur, I command you for
the first time, and I exact it as a bridal favour.
Allow this gentleman to pass unmolested for this
time. If he should ever repeat his visit, I lay
no restriction upon you in future.”
“You see, sir,” said Mr. Clenning to the noble
honour to show you quietly down stairs for this
time. If you should see fit to repeat your visits to
us, you will not regard it as blustering, or an idle
threat, if I inform you that I will have the honour
of throwing you down our steep and narrow
staircase, without giving you the trouble of descending
the intermediate steps.” The nobleman
saw, from looks and tones, that matters were verging
from words to actions. With no little trepidation,
he made his exit. Mr. Clenning held
the candle for him to the street door. He there
muttered something about his dignity, and Mr.
Clenning's unworthiness of his chastisement.
The latter replied, “My lord, if that is your
title, should you ever see fit to visit my family
again in this way, I shall practise more humility
than your lordship; and shall find you worthy
of a most thorough correction; and with that
information, I kiss your lordship's hands.”
The uniform deportment of this little family;
the industry and cheerfulness of Mrs. Clenning;
the punctuality of the payments of her husband,
and his beginning to be considered a thriving
personage by the small dealers with whom he
had intercourse; even the character of Rescue,
which began to be understood through the singularity
of her person and dialect; all these
circumstances concurred to gain the good will
of their immediate honest neighbours. Their
Estimates of character, when they pass from one
extreme are apt to vibrate to the opposite one.
The neighbours began to entertain for them the
respect which is every where felt for people of
fallen fortunes, who bear the reverse as they
ought. They were continually manifesting small
proofs of affectionate kindness and considerate
regard to their condition. Mrs. Clenning began
to feel the natural complacency and gratitude,
which results from perceiving kindness and good
feeling manifested on all sides. From various
sources, she ascertained that her story was generally
known. She was aware that she was the
subject of much conversation and discussion. In
being wholly shunned by all her former friends
and admirers, by the connections even of her
father's family, she was most emphatically taught
how completely they considered her debased and
ruined by her plebeian connection, and her perseverance
in sustaining it, after such offers on the
part of her father. She well understood, that
her wonderful escape, her strange fortunes, and
her connection, as the papers had it, with a low
American adventurer, effectually repressed any
other feeling, in view of her case, than wonder
or surprise.
To find herself completely shunned and wholly
overlooked in the city of her birth, and in the
midst of her connections, would have excited, in
feelings of pride and revenge. She viewed the
whole with calm indignation. “These,” said she
to her husband, “these are the people whom I
used to consider as containing the whole of
society. These people that surround us were
viewed as necessary in the scale of existence, but
as neither formed to impart or receive pleasure
or respect. They were estimated as being born
to fill up the several employments, and perform
the occupations necessary for the comfort of the
real society of which I was a member. And yet
these are to those as a thousand to one. I have
learned, in the only way in which I could have
learned it, to forego my foolish and degrading
prejudices towards people in humble life, the less
educated and polished people of the middle walks.
How often have I smiled at the miserable wit of
novel writers and play makers, when attempting
to ridicule the million, the great mass of society.
The insolent in the upper walks of life are
accustomed to regard them from infancy as
ignorant, boorish, and utterly incapable of any
refined or generous feeling. These good people,
I now see, have their affinities, their friendships,
their circles, whose estimation and good opinion
are dear to them. They are probably more
influenced by public opinion than the higher
classes. They have their high thoughts and
generous feelings, and their strong friendships;
and insipid than those to which I used so often
to listen. Had I remained in my first sphere, I
should never have understood these people at
all. I may thank the course of events that has
placed me here, for this important practical
knowledge of the great mass of the species. I
now see that the earth was not formed for a few
hundred privileged men and women, as I once
thought. Had I continued as I was, I might
have passed through life with these unjust and
hateful estimates of nine-tenths of the race. I
hope, in time, to become, in this way of teaching,
a genuine philanthropist.”
These sentiments were not the less true and
impressive to her husband, coming, as they did,
from the lips of a young, graceful, and lovely
woman, who had renounced opulence, and all
its accompaniments, for his sake. Of course he
gave strong demonstrations of being satisfied
with the charming orator; and he told her, that
he was sure they could get money and audiences,
and do good, if she would only consent to go
among the people, and preach such kind of lectures
as a course, for a guinea a ticket, repeating
to her, from Shakspeare,
“Sweet are the uses of adversity.”
In this constant course of labour, and calm
day, increasing their charities by extending their
acquaintance, and becoming more identified with
the good will and kind thoughts of their neighbours,
passed away the spring and the summer
of their residence in London. Augusta was at
first cheerful from effort and philosophy: But
this complacent feeling, in view of duties discharged,
and good will increased, soon made
that natural and easy, which was at first constrained.
Mr. Clenning, who had formerly felt
rather self-righteous in comparing his views with
those of his wife, now was obliged to confess to
himself, that the drudgery of his occupation, and
his confinement away from his family, excited
more impatience than he saw in her. But when
he did at last drop his pen, he hied home with
the eagerness of one who felt that he was going
to impart joy, and receive it. Rescue's wild,
but kind eye, sparkled with delight. The elder
Augusta held out her arms to her husband. The
younger Augusta, the miniature angel, as they
called her, bustled into her father's lap, threw
her tiny arms about his neck, and kissed him.
The incidents of that day and the prospects of
the next were talked over. Their fragrant tea
smoked on their table, and they declared themselves,
that they had no reason to envy the prime
minister. They blessed God, that he had not
shown himself a partial father, but had rendered
accessible to all.
To them it was always a sacrifice to spend the
evening away from their own hearth. But it
was a sacrifice which they felt it a duty frequently
to make. Instead of the common motive for
going abroad, to get rid of the tedium of each
other's society, they were impelled to this sacrifice,
as a duty to the circle that manifested so
much interest and good will towards them. But
then neither would they countenance scandal or
envious reviling of their superiors, or odious
comparisons touching those with whom they
associated. They conversed about their children,
their training and education, their duties, their
daily stock of cares and enjoyments, and the
common charities and small occurrences that give
the colour of joy or sorrow to passing existence.
They generally returned from these humble
parties happier and better, and always with the
consciousness that they had governed their
conversation and deportment there by a sense of
duty. How many millions of such circles are
there on the earth, that the insolent great know
nothing about.
On a sabbath evening during the summer, a
wealthy neighbour who had taken an interest in
them, threw open a garden, in which there were
trees, to give them a walk and the sight of nature.
The little Augusta here evidenced the
desert-born. Her eye kindled. She exulted in
the shade, and was as a water fowl restored
after abstinence to the water. The father felt
gloomy, for it reminded him of the boundless
contiguity of shade in the island, and still more
in his own native country. The very sight of a
tree, the very rustling of leaves, although they
were coated with dust to the colour of London
smoke, brought back to Rescue such a flood of
recollections, painful and bitter contrasts of all
that with her native island, that her wild black
eye wandered a while upon these mockeries of
the virgin freshness of that rich and unpolluted
landscape, and then filled with tears. The little
Augusta affectionately asked, what made her
cry? “Little missee, cause I love my own green
woods.” Mr. Clenning changed the conversation,
and spoke of the range, the noble forests,
the independence, abundance and comfort of his
native country, and assured Rescue that when
they should once be there, she would have no
more reason to regret their island. Here, in
short, in a little patch of dusty verdure, surrounded
on every side by high, dull, brown
brick walls, was the place in which imagination
was at home, in sketching the peaceful, independent,
and rural life of the American farmer.
They had so often meditated the project of transporting
themselves there, and their thoughts had
that they had all become impatient to get there.
The worst of it was, that it would require a
full year, before they could accumulate enough
to pay their passage to America, even in the
steerage. Their impatience to get there, induced
Mr. Clenning to continue his efforts to find a
passage partly on credit. But, he had been
disappointed so often, and had experienced so
much humiliation in the case, that he only continued
the pursuit with a kind of desperate purpose
to submit to any rebuff, in order to be in
the way of the remotest chance for such a desirable
event. When he least expected it, the good
fortune befell him. He met with an American
captain of quick and tender feelings, who heard
his little story with a very different air from the
icy indifference with which it had been received
in all cases before. He became interested in the
narrative; and when Mr. Clenning expressed his
fears that he should tire him by too much detail,
he begged him to be particular, and his heart
evidently entered into the story. At some passages
he turned away to hide his emotion. “I
will take you,” said he. “I am part owner of
the ship. You shall not experience the humiliation
of a steerage passage. Your fellow passengers
are chiefly people of condition. I will
see that you are on a footing with them in every
respect. As to the passage, take your own time
always pays as soon as he can, and I do not
want it before.”
This language was so utterly unlike what he
commonly heard in such cases, that Mr. Clenning
watched his countenance, to see if he was
not dealing out some of that contemptible and
unmeaning language of falsehood and deception,
with which the worthless sometimes try to raise
the hopes of the inexperienced in such cases,
merely to disappoint them. But there was such
a calm and upright look of sincerity and honour
in what the captain had said, as inspired him
with confidence. To doubt every body is a mark
of a weaker, as well as more worthless mind,
than to believe every body. The captain showed
him on board. It was a fine new ship, and the
splendour of the cabin inspired a sigh at the
thought of the rapid strides of luxury in such a
new country as America. The department of
the under officers and sailors, and the visible
tone of the intercourse between them and the
captain, all tended to complete the conviction,
that the proffers of the captain were the effusions
of an honourable and generous heart. The
agreement was accordingly made for the passage.
Mr. Clenning hurried home with the joyful
tidings to his family, that they must immediately
commence their preparations for a voyage to
New York. Their little, dark apartment was
His wife embraced him, declaring, that she
longed to put her foot on the soil of freedom
and independence; and that she felt she was born
to be a republican. Rescue capered and snapped
her fingers as usual when in great glee.
The little Augusta, seeing all the rest so happy
and loving, clambered up the back of the chair,
to get her kiss with the rest. Each congratulated
the other, that they should soon have again
the shade of forests, and the range of fields and
woods, united with all the advantages and comforts
of society.
One painful circumstance attended their departure.
In this little, dark nook, they had
drawn round them a small circle of acquaintances,
whose feelings towards them were fast
ripening to the sure and tried truth of friendship.
These people could not blame them for
availing themselves of the offered opportunity,
though they manifested marks of sincere and
painful regret at the thought of losing their
society. In this confined society, most of whose
members had been born and had grown up in it,
affection and kindness were concentered by the
narrowness of the extent in which it operated.
These quit, sober, humble people, who had been
born, and would probably die in a circle whose
diameter was scarcely a league, whose life was
marked with few incidents; who knew not proud
the prospect of losing their society, as a
disaster in their humble history. They would
never have known the force and earnestness of
the affection they had inspired, if the announcement
of this approaching separation had not
strongly called forth unquestionable proofs of it.
They drew another important lesson from their
residence there. It is human nature to suppose,
that they who have no marked place, or distinguished
standing in society, are forgotten and
overlooked, and without bearing and influence
upon that society. In consequence of this mistaken
impression, many a man has lost self-respect,
in conducting so as to lose that of others.
Patient, consistent and undeviating rectitude of
character, shines more widely even from a humble
centre, than is generally suspected. Let
them who wish to test the truth of this remark,
act immorally and worthlessly. Let them be
intemperate, quarrelsome, perfidious and dishonest.
Let them see how soon the savour of
these traits will spread. The world may seem
to be indifferent; but it takes a sharp notice at
least of the faults, if not the virtues even of the
humble and obscure. The grand maxim that
ought to encourage and sustain every one in
undeviating correctness is, that it is not only
right in itself, but will not fail ultimately to bring
friends and estimation.
Such they found had been the result of their
course there. Every demonstration of considerate
good feeling was shown them by these
humble friends. Many presents of affection were
prepared, and many little comforts offered for
their approaching voyage. The little Augusta
was arrayed in the full fashion of London finery,
and many of the customary promises of correspondence
exacted. Mr. Clenning, meanwhile,
had been accustomed to go regularly to the
post-office, expecting, yet dreading to hear from
his disappointed friend in New Holland, and
possibly entertaining the latent hope that Augusta's
father might yet relent and do something
for them. They knew that he was well
informed of all the steps they took. They heard
nothing indeed from either of those quarters.
But he was delighted by receiving a letter from
another quarter. On opening it, he was astonished
to find enclosed in it five hundred pounds,
in bank notes of one hundred pounds each. The
first thought was, that it came indirectly from
his father-in-law. The contents, which were
these, soon undeceived them:
| CHAPTER II. The life and adventures of Arthur Clenning, in two volumes | |