 | CHAPTER II. The life and adventures of Arthur Clenning, in two volumes |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
“The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit from the unworthy takes.”
When they arrived in the town, the novelty
of their appearance and their story soon drew
about them all the idle babbling people that are
usually found in such a place. Their curiosity
was still more annoying than that of the savages.
They had to repeat their story a hundred times.
At first there was a show of much sympathy, and
they received a great number of invitations to
partake of the hospitality of various considerable
citizens. They were gazed at as lions. They
ascertained that a thousand different editions of
their story went abroad. Most of the people
entertained precisely the same apprehensions
with Mr. Clenning, touching the reception he
would probably receive from the father of his
wife. Almost every one repeated that it was a
shame that such people should not be supplied
with money, whether the loaners ever recovered
it from Mr. Wellman or not. The profligate
drew hopes from the extreme beauty and destitute
condition of his wife. The excitement and
left the inhabitants to the natural callousness and
hardness of heart, and avarice, that are generally
prevalent in a new place, with a character like
that of Sidney Cove. They soon found the generous
professions, that were so frankly made to
them on their arrival, vanishing into thin air;
and they would actually have come from the
abundance of their solitary island to want bread
in the midst of their own people, had not one man
of real generosity and sympathy appeared, who,
moved by hearing their case, unsought and unsolicited,
came forward, and offered them the loan
of one thousand dollars, to be repaid by Mr.
Wellman, when they should arrive in England.
Augusta had spent two days in tears, and in
apprehensions that admit of no description,
amidst the cold and grim looks of the people of
the place where they had taken temporary board.
They did not explain all their straits to Rescue;
but her intuitive sagacity partly comprehended
the case; and she began a kind of rude pastoral
ditty, so often repeated afterwards, about the
comfort of their green island, and the meanness
and hardness of heart manifested by what she
phrased the bad white peoples.
With this opportune offering of benevolence,
Mr. Clenning hastened home to his disconsolate
wife and faithful servant. “Courage,” said he,
“my dear Augusta. God and man have not yet
became meanly submissive and annoying
in her officiousness. Better apartments were
taken, and these people of such strange fortunes
were at once enjoying themselves in society.
Nothing in their new condition furnished them
with more amusement than the wonder and
curiosity of Rescue, in a region, which was, of
course, all a land of unexplored wonders. Sidney
Cove was a new and thriving place. Living was
very expensive, and there was no such feeling as
confidence between man and man. Nothing
struck her with more surprise than the folly of
making subsistence, and every thing, depend
upon the possession of such little round pieces of
metal as dollars; which, she affirmed, were of no
manner of use, except to furnish playthings to the
little Augusta. The utility and value of money
were things altogether beyond her apprehension.
The hardened and insensible character inspired
by avarice, impressed her with settled and unutterable
dislike. Her thoughts were incessantly
occupied in unfavourable comparisons between
the hard modes of subsistence there, and the
exuberance of the pleasant island they had left.
Nevertheless, when a vessel about that time
sailed for the island, to bring away the remains
of the wreck of the Australasia, left at the grotto,
and she was offered a passage back there, she
utterly refused, unless her master and mistress
how indispensable was money to subsistence,
with her own peculiar goodness of heart and
docility of character, she immediately put herself
in earnest to learn the duties of her new position;
and her master was at once astonished and affected
to learn, that during the period that intervened
before they had obtained the loan of
money, she had hired herself in the intervals of
labour and nursing at home, to attempt to gain
some of those dollars that she found so necessary
to subsistence.
Mr. Clenning and his wife were soon modestly,
but respectably, provided with all that was
necessary for propriety of appearance, conformable
to their uncertain expectations. He had
much feared the effect of the return to society
upon the tastes and wishes of his wife. It gave
him inexpressible satisfaction, to observe that
she was considerate; and in all her arrangements,
rather looked to their present means, than to the
inclinations inspired by her former condition.
“Now,” said he, as he made this discovery,
“Augusta, you have done that in society, which
I had thought impossible: you have inspired me
with increasing love and admiration, in discovering
that you are as considerate and wise, as you
were always lovely.”
The beauty and expectations of his wife gave
them an easy and immediate introduction to the
found the new and strange arrangements of
society, the country itself, and its natural productions
still more whimsical and striking, than
they had expected to find it. In the island which
they had left, they had seen but few things out
of the common analogies of nature except the
structure of the kangaroo, and the singular plumage
and form of some of the larger birds. Here
every thing was out of any nature that they had
ever yet contemplated; and the dame seemed to
have wrought in her wildest frolics. Most of
the trees were nearly branchless like masts, and
as hard, and almost as heavy, as iron. The
kind of trees most precious and valuable in
other countries, as useful for the most beautiful
cabinet work, were here annoying from their
abundance; while trees of common use for
timber were scarce. Here were birds without
wings or feathers, of the size of a deer, and
covered with hair instead of plumage. Here
were four footed beasts, with the beaks of birds,
black swans, and white eagles; ferns, nettles, and
weeds growing to the size of trees; rivers, whose
sources were in the sea, and their outlets in the
interior swamps; here were moles that laid
eggs, wooden pears, and cherries with the stones
upon the outside of the cherry. In fact, to describe
all the amusing vagaries of nature here,
would have been to describe almost every
country.
The character of the people was, if possible, a
thousand times more outré and whimsical than
the aspect of physical and animal nature. Here
women and children so beautiful, that in other
countries they would have been objects of general
admiration, were so common as no longer
to excite interest or surprise. Most of the former
had been prostitutes, and the latter illegitimate.
They were regularly introduced, first to the assemblies
of the immaculates; for here the grades
of society are obliged to be marked by the most
palpable distinctions, and separated by the most
inaccessible barriers. The high birth and former
standing of Augusta, gave her husband a
reflected lustre; and they received every desirable
attention from all classes of society. Her
appearance and manners won her unbounded
admiration. It was plain to perceive, that this
order of things strongly tended to awaken habits
and feelings, which had been extinct for years;
and which her husband fondly hoped had been
radically extirpated. But the moment it came
to her ear, which it shortly did, that she was considered
as having sacrificed herself in being
united to her husband, and that she was the object
of improper hopes and pursuit by some of
the profligate adventurers there; that they supposed
they might find advantages in her estimation,
comparison of her husband; from that moment
the disgust of a naturally virtuous and innocent
mind, produced a recoil of horror and disgust,
in reference to the society, and an earnest disposition
to fly from the country for England.
The comments that would be naturally made
by the dissipated and licentious, upon the manner
in which the courtship and marriage of Augusta
with her husband, had been conducted, induced
both to desire, that their marriage should be
there solemnized anew with the rites of religion.
Accordingly they were married in the church at
Sidney Cove, with all the rites and ceremonies
of the Episcopal church. Augusta pronounced
her second vows, in presence of a crowd of
spectators, apparently with as much alacrity,
steadiness, and affection, as her first. When the
ceremony was over, and in their retirement they
embraced their dear babe, they felt how much the
mind depends on the associations of publicity, solemnity,
and the force of divine and human ties,
sanctioned by public opinion in making up its
estimates of things. Never had either embraced
that infant before, without feeling an indefinable
something that was wanting to the instincts of
parental affection.
If they could have found amusement in originality
of character, and the view of extreme
beauty without virtue and self respect, and too
it in the visits which they occasionally made in
company with their friends among the immaculates,
in the society of the “maculates.” They
visited a ball room, filled with a blaze of apparent
fashion and beauty; and the company had all
the factitious airs, graces, and tone of the highest
and most polished society. Most of them were
reclaimed convicts. Every one had borne in
some way a deep stain. Never had they seen
such an exemplification of the “Apple of Sodom.”
The sensation from the scene was bewildering.
It was a painful labour to force the conviction
on the beholders, that this splendour of beauty;
this bewitching aspect of grace and sweetness;
this vain show of a few hours; gave place, in the
more free and unrestrained intercourse of their
retirement, to all their native habits, and the use
of their gross and vulgar colloquy. What a
history of the “road to ruin” could each one of
these syrens have given! Here the pick-pocket
bowed most gracefully to the prostitute. There
all the maudlin cant of sentimentality passed between
a worn Celadon and Amelia. Each was
ready to furnish materials for the biography of
her neighbour; who, probably, at the same moment
was occupied with some other person, in
rendering the same kind office to her. At home,
and among people of their own class, all calls
for this kind of observance having ceased, the
the clear light of day let in upon the scene; the
whole aspect and character of the people stood
forth in its naked and undisguised deformity.
Then the disgusting slang of the colloquial intercourse
among themselves, was heard. Then
they were the first to ridicule their own assumption,
and acting of decency in private. If these
annals might be stained with samples of their
horrid dialect, their interior language, their terms
of art, and their previous callings, a vocabulary
sufficiently ample and disgusting might be given.
Well and deeply was this maxim engraved on
the minds of Mr. Clenning and his wife, that the
“true is the only beautiful.”
As respected the general society of the colony,
all the elements of bitterness, scandal, heart-burning,
mutual rivalry, jealousy, and distrust,
that are so apt to have an abundant existence
in small, detached, and newly formed societies,
existed here in combinations and forms, and to
an extent that would have been ludicrous and
amusing, if the predominance of evil in the picture
had not thrown over it the aspect of disgust.
“This,” they said to each other, “is not society.
This is not that for which we left the innocence
and repose of our happy island.” Both duty
and hope prompted Augusta to wish to return to
England. She still flattered herself that her
father would receive her graciously, and take
forgot that they had a resource from dissatisfaction
and disgust abroad, in the endearments and
privacy of their interior intercourse with each
other. With Rescue and their babe, they took
long walks amid those new and interesting scenes.
In addition to the deep verdure and boundless
extent of the inaccessible forests, that had, until
lately, slept from the creation, undisturbed by
the sound of the axe, there was the interest of
cultivated fields, fine gardens, sheep pastures,
and orange groves bending with their golden
fruit; and this impressive blending of nature and
art, struggling for the mastery on the ruins of
these ancient woods, rendered the scenery of the
country a source of exhaustless interest to the
lovers of nature. The strength and vigour of the
cultivated vegetation cheered the eye, and refreshed
the heart. From these walks they always
returned to their home, satisfied and happy;
with more confident hopes, and more enlarged
feelings, and more adoring conceptions of the
God of nature.
Already had Mr. Clenning touched gently
upon his wish to fix his family finally in his own
native country. He often spoke of it with all
the earnest feeling of instinctive patriotism. So
often, and so eloquently had he compared his
own great and good country with all others, that
he made a firm convert of Rescue to his own
were the home of all that is pleasant and desirable.
Once or twice these themes had been
urged with a warmth of nationality, that aroused
that of Augusta, and drew from her in turn, a
contrasted view of great, glorious, and unrivalled
England, as it stood in her thoughts. They
were daily importuned to fix themselves permanently
in New Holland. But he had no dreams
of happiness and final retreat, but in his own
country. He did by no means fully enter into
the sanguine confidence of his wife, that her
father would receive them kindly. He thought
it probable that his pride, if not his affection,
might induce him to allow his daughter a pittance
of his wealth, on condition of their agreeing
to settle in America, where he might not be
reminded of what he would doubtless deem his
daughter's misalliance and disgrace. Hence
his own hopes and dreamings of the future, constantly
rested in America. A thousand circumstances
conspired to make them both anxious to
leave New Holland. Of their thousand dollars,
only enough remained to pay their passage to
England; and in that country, there appeared
no chance to renew their means. Nameless circumstances
of disgust were created constantly for
him in the deportment of the people towards his
wife, whom they affected, even to his face, to pity
as a ruined heiress.
They, of course, took a passage in the first
packet ship that sailed for England; and were
traversing the immense wastes of ocean for that
country. Augusta trembled, indeed, and turned
pale at first, at the thought of once more committing
herself to that faithless element on which
she had suffered so much. But they cheered each
other, that their interest and duty alike required
them to encounter this long voyage, and they
mutually agreed, that if they once found a safe
and comfortable harbour, they would cast anchor,
and wander no more. It is true, he often smiled
upon his wife, with dissembled confidence in his
countenance, when his heart ached with the apprehension
that her father would make their
divorce or separation the only term upon which
he would be reconciled to his daughter. Rescue,
too, whose heart instinctively turned towards the
green groves in which she was born, had received
no pleasant associations with the country of
money, luxury and art, and she carried a heavy
heart upon the water. She often gave them to
understand, in her own peculiar dialect, that she
had seen enough of white people at Sidney Cove.
She had imbibed a settled conviction, that her
master and mistress were the only good white
people in the world. “Oh, missee,” she would
say, “good island! Sweet island! Fine trees;
plenty bread-fruit; no work hard; all good; all
happy; no want dollar to keep from starve;
Bad people at Sidney Cove.” Still in the end
of her lament, the faithful creature always gave
them to understand that she had rather endure
the scourge of living with white people with
them, than live in the perennial freshness of her
own groves without them. These demonstrations
of unshaken attachment from Rescue, the increasing
strength and beauty of their little daughter,
training her to run alone notwithstanding the
rocking of the ship, hearing the delightful lispings
of her first articulations, mutual tracing of father
and mother in the developing sweetness of her
countenance; these joys of innocence, nature
and affection, cheered the long voyage. They
had some gales, but no severe or dangerous
storms. They embarked in December, and in
March they saw the white cliffs of Albion, and
soon afterwards landed on the busy shores of the
Thames, and were added as a drop to the ocean
of human existence, in London.
With a hundred dollars, and Augusta holding
to his arm, and Rescue carrying their prattling
daughter, they entered London in the dun fog
of a March evening. The tall and outlandish
form of Rescue, was but too well calculated to
attract for them a painful degree of notice.
They felt the strange and unpleasant sensation
of treading their first reeling steps on terra firma,
after having been so long accustomed to the
the gloom and dejection naturally inspired by
such a scene, through which they desired to glide
unnoticed and unknown, they could not but smile
to witness the keen black eyes of Rescue, wild
with curiosity, glaring upon the multitude of
strange and surprising objects about her. Unconscious
of the object and motive of the laughter
of the spectators, she laughed with them as good
naturedly as if she herself had not furnished
them with their amusement.
To every mind capable of entering into their
condition, no effort will be necessary to paint its
features of gloom and discouragement. Carriages
rattled past them. The glare of wealth surrounded
them. A crowd of busy and bustling people
filled the streets, like the uninterrupted current of
a river. On all sides was life and animation.
Every countenance wore the careless and unconcerned
consciousness of being surrounded with
friends, and having an object and an asylum.
Poor and unfriended strangers from the extremities
of the globe, without money, friends, or
home, and with no prospect of finding a place
in which to lay their heads; they were borne
along the same tide of life with the rest, mutually
gazing, and exciting their gaze. It did not
lessen the bitterness of the contrast with Augusta,
to remember the period when she had been
borne along those very streets, in her gilded
The gloomy sky conspired with the natural
smoke and darkness of the city, to add deeper
shade to the sadness of their prospects. As he
felt his spirits sink, and despondency making its
way to his heart, he summoned up all his manhood,
and measured the beautiful and frail being,
whose destiny was so identified with his, and
who required all his energy to enable him to
support her and his babe. Happily she was a
mother; and as they spoke of their prospects, she
embraced and kissed the little smiler in the
arms of Rescue, and declared that she was
sorry for nothing, and found nothing difficult,
or unpleasant. On the contrary, she exhorted
her husband to take courage, and banish dejection
from his heart, that it might disappear from
his countenance.
After much inquiry, and frequent pauses in
the different public houses, before the light of
the day was gone, they obtained in the fourth
story, a little dark apartment, with two beds;
and having ordered a cheap and frugal supper,
they proceeded to devise and arrange operations
for the morrow. During the voyage, he and his
wife had made joint stock of their invention,
and had, after infinite study, and blotting and
destroying a dozen copies, agreed upon a letter
that was to be despatched to her father, immediately
upon their arrival in the city. It gave a
manner in which Mr. Clenning had found his
daughter. It presented an affecting, because a
just and true account of the condition from which
he had rescued her. It proceeded, with guarded
delicacy, to unfold the various motives and circumstances
that led to their union. It gave the
details of their attempt to escape by sea in the
boat; and on the failure of that attempt, their
hopelessness of ever making their escape afterwards.
The latter part purported to be entirely
the statement of his daughter. It dwelt upon the
honour and decorum of her husband, before their
union; and of his entire devotedness to her comfort
and happiness, during all their residence together.
It generously exonerated him from having
originated the project of marriage. With equal
delicacy and tenderness, she described the progress
of affection and gratitude, in view of his
deportment towards her. She represented the
union rather as of her seeking than his. She
stated, that they had been subsequently united by
the laws of the country, and with all the solemnities
of religion, and that in whatever light her
father might choose to view him, in the sight of
heaven and earth, and by all laws, human and
divine, he was the true and lawful husband of her
legal duties and obligations, as well as those of
her affection and her heart. But she conjured
her father, by his old age, by the filial affection
and by every motive that could soften the heart,
to receive, and bless, and acknowledge his daughter,
as one returned from the dead. Even her
husband, albeit unused to the melting mood,
gave tears to the simple and touching paintings
of maternal tenderness. In short, it was an
energetic appeal to his feelings, at once so true
and natural, so simple and affecting, that it
struck them as impossible that he could withstand
it.
On making the proper inquiry, they found
that her father had arrived in England, and was
now at his usual residence in the city. They
sent this letter, the joint production of their
inventions, to the residence of her father; and he
spent the remainder of the day in such an agony
of suspense, as effectually extinguished the power
to make any other effort, and repressed any disposition
to go abroad, or converse with any one.
Rescue caught the common gloom. Angusta
paced her little dark apartment, alternately
kissing her babe, and looking upwards. A
thousand times they traversed the dark precincts
of their apartment, in alternate paroxysms of
hope and despair. In this manner they passed
that and the succeeding day, neither going
abroad, or having any other communication
with any one, than receiving their frugal meals,
as they were sent to them.
On the evening of the second day, they received
a letter, directed to a person calling herself
Augusta Clenning. It was conceived in the
following terms.
“I should have considered the letter you have
done me the honour to write me, as a pleasant
attempt at forgery and imposition, had not the
resemblance to the hand-writing of my daughter
induced me to bestow some degree of credit to
the strange story which it narrates. If you are
indeed my daughter, that you were saved from
the wreck, as things have happened, I may consider
good fortune or otherwise, as circumstances
may hereafter determine. Whether I am hereafter
to know you as my daughter, will depend
upon a contingency, over which you only have
the control. I am not disposed, as you perhaps
will anticipate, to attempt menance, intimidation,
or command. I shall take a perfectly cool and
dispassionate view of this affair. Were I to
manifest any warmth, it might excite future hopes
of playing upon my feelings, and might lead to
unwarranted hopes, and consequent disappointment.
Neither am I about to appeal to the
dormant pride which belonged to her who was
my child; nor shall I utter reproaches upon the
immorality and dishonour of this misalliance,
which you say you have consummated; nor
remind you, on your own showing, that it was
unnecessary. If the predicament were such as
palliate your folly. That you extenuate the
ungenerous advantage taken of your misfortunes,
by him you call your husband, only proves that
you are, or would be thought to be, still under
the influence of that feeling, which silly girls call
love. This illusion ought long since to have
passed away. There are few young persons in
this city, at present, so simple as to suppose that
the childish liking, formerly called love, means
any thing more than a word to palliate the conduct
of persons with weak heads and libidinous
inclinations. If you once deemed yourself in this
predicament, you surely ought to have recovered
your sober reason ere this. The person of whom
you speak, you say, has loaned a thousand dollars
at Sidney Cove, on my credit. Now to the point.
The past is irrevocable. But we may operate
upon the future. This marriage may all be
passed by, as a thing that has not been. To
spare your eloquence, I am ready to grant you
that this person has been brave, disinterested,
and so forth. These are qualities of common,
and every day show. Our tars are brave, and
said to be generous. Our soldiers are brave.
Every good little book makes its heroes and
heroines brave and disinterested, and all that.
Thousands of these paragons can be purchased
in our city for half a guinea apiece. But I cannot
learn that more people are born rich and distinguished
to you, be a wise girl. I will place all that has
happened to necessity and circumstances. Some
of our garretteers may, perhaps, take you up,
and make a tragi-comedy, or a romance out of
you, and you will only become the more distinguished
for what has happened. I will receive
you, asking no questions, nor ever recurring to
the past. The other unfortunate circumstance I
will send into the country. I will either cause
this marriage to be as though it had not been,
or I will procure it to be annulled. I will also
repay the thousand dollars, and do something
for that person, provided you return alone, and
promise me that you will see him no more.
Otherwise I request you neither to write, introduce
yourself, nor importune me, either in person,
or by another. No stratagem will circumvent
me; no eloquence move me. You can well
remember, whether I was easily moved even
when you were the pride of my heart, and my
all. I am neither younger nor weaker than formerly;
and you cannot but recollect that you
never saw me, as a babe, easily affected either to
joy or tears. I have no respect for any one
whose judgment does not preponderate over his
feelings. I am cool, and I wish you to infer
from it, that I am determined. Take time for
consideration; four days if you please. If, after
mature deliberation, you should see fit to accept
received by your father. If you still prefer to live
with that person, I shall be happy to serve you
as I would another stranger, that is, with kind
wishes and good advice, but shall otherwise be
to you, as to others, simply,
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:
“Sir,—As an obscure stranger, you may consider
yourself deserted as well as unknown. This
will prove you mistaken. The writer of this
has had an eye upon you, and knows many
passages of your conduct, which you might have
result of the investigation has been, to determine
me to enclose the money which you find
in this. The circumstances of the writer are
not independent. But, although only comfortable,
they allow him to do a generous action.
He believes that your charming wife, who has
acted so nobly and consistently, will one day
reap the reward of such conduct, and come into
possession of her rights. Should this be the
case, if the writer survives, he will make himself
known to you, and then you may consider this
as a loan. If the event should be otherwise, the
writer has no children, no relatives that are
near, is a humourist, without ill nature, and will
not regret to reflect upon this sum, as a gift to
modest, dignified and suffering worth.
Ah! if the opulent, if those favoured by fortune
knew or could know the uses which they might
make of their surplus wealth; if they knew how
many people through honest and commendable
pride appear to be comfortable, and yet pine in
secret under the pressure of the most afflicting
wants; if they knew how much happiness money
rightly bestowed even in loans, may impart: such
acts as this would be more common, and would
not wear such an air of improbability from the
unfrequency of their occurrence. If they considered
they would not continue to squander in lavish
and useless expenditures, which gratify only the
insatiate cravings of fancy or pride, what might
thus make a virtuous fellow being in distress
happy. Let them imagine such a family as this
—and no doubt many such exist—and picture to
themselves the agony of parents seeing their children
suffer for want of clothing and bread, or
even from the existence of the immediate apprehension
of this suffering, and then consider, that
there are men who squander in a day what would
render such a family comfortable for a year.
Surely if men had hearts, and saw what kind of a
world this is to the poor and the unfortunate, they
could find higher pleasures, than those of the
gaming table, the horse race, the haunts of licentiousness,
or even the useless luxury of extravagant
parties, made only for cold-hearted display.
Little do the wealthy know, and less do they feel
the bitter character of real, stern, irresistible
want, involving in its pressure a beloved wife,
cherished babes, and every thing dear on the
earth.
We will not believe that there are many who
cannot imagine how Mr. Clenning's heart danced
for joy, during his progress home from the post
office. Imagine him then opening the letter, and
spreading the bills before his wife and Rescue,
who by this time understood but too well by the
slips of paper. She snapped her fingers, and
capered with an extra flourish. “Bad money,”
she said; “He good and bad. Want him, make
sorry too much. Get him, make glad too much.”
Mr. Clenning asked her if she did not now believe
that there were some good white people.
“Good!” said Rescue, “aye, he good. Me pray
God hard for him to-night!”
There can be no doubt that Mr. Clenning felt
a particular pride in repairing to the excellent
and noble-minded captain, and paying the passage
for his family in advance. At the same
time he related his good fortune. The captain
seemed even reluctant to take the money, informing
him that this unknown benefactor had deprived
him of the pleasure of the generous action
which he contemplated; but he added, that if
Mr. Clenning should resolve, as he had expressed
himself, to purchase a farm after his arrival in
the United States, he would add to what might
remain to him after the passage, the loan of a
sufficient sum to enable him to make his proposed
purchase.
Their farewell to London was one in which
pleasure and pain were mixed. They certainly
left their mean and dark apartment with pleasure.
Augusta felt no regret in leaving a city where
not a single relative or friend deigned to recognise
her, and where she had played the highest
were no pleasant associations to detain her. But
it was painful to leave those kind, though humble
friends, who really cherished them. It is
true, a tear dimmed the eye of Augusta, as she
looked in the direction of the princely mansion
of her father. She took an impressive leave of
her kind neighbours who accompanied her to the
ship. The parting for a voyage over the trackless
and dangerous deep, is always an affecting
spectacle. Mr. Clenning and his wife quietly
seated themselves on the deck, with Rescue
holding the hand of her little charge, close beside
them, and calmly watched the feverish and tumultuous
spectacle of leave-taking. As the ship
moved off, “Hail to my country,” said the husband.
“If I once set my foot on thy shores, I
will leave thee no more.” “Farewell England,”
said his wife; “and may God forgive those who
have forsaken me.”
Conspicuous among their fellow passengers,
were three or four English merchants, of a character
precisely similar to the greater portion of those
who visit our shores from that country. The
dandy witling of the town, critic, merchant, and
cockney, were all so blended in them, that it was
impossible to say where one ended, and the other
began. It excited alternate amusement and indignation
to hear these people describe the United
States. The country for which they were bound,
make their fortunes, was the constant theme of
their vilification, ridicule, and abuse. Their dialect
was as amusing as the matter of their conversation.
All the canons of criticism were, of course,
completely at their command; and if any one ventured
the slightest dissent, though it were in a
matter of taste and opinion, about which, it is
the common saw, there ought to be no dispute,
he was knocked down with the “Edinburgh or
the London Quarterlies.” Their estimates of
American taste were derived from the fourth of
July orations of twenty years past, and Mr. Barlow's
Columbiad; they being pleased to consider
these productions as fair samples of what had
been done, or could be done in the literary way.
Their standing theme of wit was the awkwardness
and ignorance of “Jonathan,” whom they
considered a thick-headed, timid sort of fellow,
whose fare, physical and intellectual, was exceeding
meagre; and touching whom, it was a
mystery that with such a muddy and uninstructed
brain, he should be able to manage his own
affairs, and make his way in the world as well as
he did.
The rank and beauty, along with the story of
Mrs. Clenning, as told with all the comments and
conjectures of fancy, inspired them, at first, with
a certain degree of respect for her. But they
gradually broke over their reserve, and began
absence of her husband. They soon learned
that she was disinherited, and yoked for life to a
plebcian yankee. From familiarity, their manners
gradually advanced to rudeness, and they
attempted to play the amiable, with an insolence
and confidence resulting from their ignorance
and vanity, which induced Mr. Clenning one
evening to announce to one of them, when no
person was present, save themselves and the
captain, that if ever he should have the audacity
to conduct in the same way towards Mrs. Clenning
a second time, he would have the honour
of administering the sea bath to him, by throwing
him overboard. His cheek blanched to the
paleness of death as he measured, with his eye,
the muscular form of the American, and saw, by
the flashing of his eye, that he was in sober
earnest. This suggestion had a most salutary
effect, and the Englishman observed a respectful
distance of manner towards them during the
remainder of the voyage.
There were also a couple of young gentlemen
on board, sons of wealthy merchants in the
United States. They were returning home from
the tour of Europe. They conversed together
as friends, though they were the strongest contrast
to each other in nature. One was a modest,
amiable, well informed young man, perfectly
affable in his manners, who had apparently made
his tour. He had stored his mind with an abundance
of that necessary information which travelling
only can supply. His conversation was
equally instructive and interesting, and his standard
of refinement and good manners was simplicity,
truth, and nature. With him Mr.
Clenning passed many pleasant hours on the
voyage, and thus contracted a friendship which
he afterwards found of essential service to him.
The other was a sample of that poor and
spoiled race of young men, of which our country
annually imports so many; who return from
abroad to annoy the inhabitants of the cities with
the intolerable garrulity of travelled coxcombs,
and to learn the people in the country how
trifling, vain, and contemptible a young man
may become, from the very circumstance of
having extended his sphere of observation.
There was no end to the wonders he had seen,
nor the artists, connoisseurs, and fashionable and
great men, with whom he had been familiarly
conversant. At one time, he instructed the
people at the breakfast table what kind of place
the “palais royale” was. At another, they
heard long dissertations about the Pantheon
and St. Peter's. There was no great man in
any line in Europe, with whom he had not
familiarly met. It was edifying to hear and see
with what a sapient air he could rote all the
Europe, in a most mysterious dialect of bad
French, bad Italian, and cockney English, that
almost needed an interpreter. This star, it is
true, sometimes became pale, when he came in
contact with the Londoners, who were birds of
the same feather, but sung a different tune.
They affected to regard the pretensions of the
travelled Yankee with ineffable disdain, and all
parties on board were delighted to hear them
lisp defiances, in point of pretension, towards
each other. This happy action and reaction
had the effect to neutralize the annoying forwardness
of both parties. They were mutually afraid
of each other, and out of their opposition grew
their peace. The orb of the one never rose
upon them, until that of the other was below the
horizon. This young travelled American sat
near Mrs. Clenning at table every day; but he
always affected not to know her; and though he
had been heard to pronounce her beauty “severe,”
he spoke of her as a poor undone thing,
who might have made her fortune out of her
face alone; and he was often seen to eye her,
half bent, with his quizzing glass, as though he
were taking a survey of her from a distant box
of the theatre.
They had also on board a young gentleman,
who had been in some way attached to a foreign
mission. He was a man of gravity, and never
To him the secrets of courts were
familiar. To him oracular diplomatists were
known. He had been closeted with men, who,
Atlas-like, helped to prop the world. He always
wore the close brow of the mighty political secret;
and to hear him, these great men of state were
not wrought upon by fashion, folly, and physic,
like other people. It was only for some one to
broach any question, touching the general politics
of Europe, and forth stalked the great men of
England and the continent, like drill soldiers on
parade. Every great man with whom he had
spoken, and every court that he had visited, had
added something of height to his stature.
In the society of the captain, and his young
travelled friend, Mr. Clenning lost sight for a
time of his anxieties. But, as it ought to be,
all his home and deep felt enjoyments were in
the privacy of his little state room, into which
the father and mother, the little Augusta and
Rescue, could just crowd. Here they talked of
their future plans of industry and comfort on
the little farm which they proposed to make.
They discussed the comparative advantages of
one place over another. Over the mountains
and on the waters of the Ohio, or the Mississipi,
their imaginations painted a rich country, fertile
and cheap land, an unbounded stretch of forest,
tranquillity, retirement, and repose, which they
the island. Mr. Clenning saw affection and
hope written in letters of gold on the polished
brow of his wife, and was satisfied that in love
for him, she was compensated for all the privations
which it had brought upon her. Augusta
grew in beauty, strength, and endearment.
Rescue cared for nothing, so that she saw her
master and mistress happy, and could talk about
the western woods. These delightful feelings of
confidence and affection wore away the time
pleasantly. It was little to them, whether the
rest of their fellow passengers regarded them
with respect or pity, which they sometimes affected
to feel for them, or whether they regarded
them at all.
In twenty-two days, they landed without accident,
at New York. Mr. Clenning had talked
so much of the glorious freedom and independence
of his country, and had drawn such delightful
contrasts in its favour, compared with
England, and they had so often meditated upon
its green fields, compared with the gloomy brick
walls and dark alleys of London, that when they
came in view of the delightful shores of Long
Island, and the beautiful environs of New York,
Mrs. Clenning viewed the scenery with unsated
admiration. As she surveyed from the deck the
great extent of this very considerable pattern of
London, she could not withhold the expression
that she had never seen any thing so beautiful
as the approaches to that city from the sea; and
she pronounced the aspect, so seen, when all the
environs were in the full splendour of summer
verdure, unrivalled.
While she was calmly surveying the scenery,
a very different order of sensations was passing
in the bosom of her husband. All his desires
were concentered in the single wish, to appear
well in the eyes of his wife. He often had flattered
himself, that he had subdued all the weak
or tormenting passions and inclinations of his
nature. But, like the crop of weeds in a fertile
garden in summer, as soon as one set was got
under, a new one sprung up that required a new
series of efforts to subdue them. He had imagined
that he was neither weak, vain nor proud,
like other men. But when the ship drew towards
the shore, he felt a host of torturing thoughts
spring up like fiends within him. The beauty
and rank of his wife, assumed a new aspect in
his eye. He seemed to see, for the first time,
from what sphere she had descended to connect
her destinies with his, and his heart inly pined
for some kind of notice or distinction, on the
shore of his own native country, that might
enable him to figure with some degree of consequence
in her eye. The little world of the respect,
as well as affection of his wife, was all the
would have been to Napoleon. But alas! they
landed in a great and crowded city, to which
they had all been looking forward with eager
anticipation, and which he had fondly and
proudly associated with the increasing splendour
and glory of his dear native land, and he felt a
painful humiliation in the thought, that amidst
the crowds of people, that thronged about them
and in the city, whence he had embarked to go
abroad, he found himself, and was seen of her,
entirely a stranger, unknown and without name,
estimation or place, as completely as amidst the
crowds of London, or Sidney Cove. To find
himself so entirely without a single person to
whom to speak, or with whom to claim recognition,
was sufficiently painful in itself. It was
doubly so, when contemplated by another whose
respect and affection were every thing to him.
Ah! thought he, before any one shall reproach
me for the folly of this kind of ambition, let
him be placed in my situation; let him have been
the cause of humiliation to one so dear; let him
return with a heart of unutterable affection to
the land of his birth; let him see the crowds
rushing about a landing ship; let him find himself
wholly unknown, overlooked, disregarded,
obliged to clear the way for strangers on this
side, only to jostle them on the other; and let
all this be seen by such a wife as Augusta Clenning;
is naturally an ambitious animal, he has more
meekness and philosophy, than I have. It was,
indeed, a sore evil under the sun. Acquaintances,
relatives, strangers, came like a torrent round
the ship. There was the New York great man,
making his joyful and proud recognition of his
London friend. There was the bluff and portly
merchant, for whom the crowd instinctively made
way, that he might look at his bales. There was
the honourable Mr. A. and Mr. alderman B.
and squire C; and there was shaking of hands,
and such hearty inquiries about the voyage, and
such laying out of dinner parties; and every one
but themselves, seeming to have some consequence,
that the whole taken together, could not
but force upon them a painful conviction of their
nothingness. The people whispered, indeed, as
they saw Augusta calmly sitting in the pride of
her beauty. The inaudible inquiry was followed
by a nod, which being interpreted, her husband
understood to mean O! poor woman! It is true,
some considerate visitor to the ship, brought
chesnuts and cakes to the little Augusta, attracted
by her sweet rosy face, and her blond locks
curling round her alabaster neck. A present of
this sort, and apples and oranges by another,
and being caressed and kissed by a third, made
the child as happy as she could be, and gave the
of heart of the American people.
Besides, circumstances soon convinced Mr.
Clenning, that all these painful feelings of obscurity
and neglect existed alone in his mind;
and that a very different train of thought from
that, which he had so gloomily imagined, had
been passing in hers. Perfectly secure in the
sense of his protection, and satisfied in the singleness
of her affection for him, her thoughts
had been expatiating in the new scene before
her, with all the eagerness of curiosity. Here,
there were no contemptuous relatives and connections
of former days, to neglect her. No
harrowing associations, to remind her of the
difference, between what she then was, and what
she had been. She thought with pride, that her
husband would see none more beautiful than
herself, among his fair country-women. She
was meditating with admiration on the beauty
of her little girl; or thinking of the pleasure of
journeying amidst new scenery; and not one of
those torturing thoughts, that had brought gloom
on the brow of her husband, had touched her
heart.
Her husband proposed a carriage to carry her
and his little one, and Rescue, to the hotel. But,
she kindly refused, saying, “that it was cheaper
to walk; and that she wished to explore the
and novel scene. Rescue bounded along with
little Augusta in her arms, exulting in the thought,
that in a few days more she should be in the
woods. How certain it is, that most of our
miseries are of our own creation! All this inward
torture of ambition and pining through want of
consequence, had been the single heritage of Mr.
Clenning, who imagined the while, that disinterested
feeling for another had originated the
whole.
The kind captain, true to all he had promised,
proffered endorsement to the amount of a thousand
dollars, of which Mr. Clenning assured him
he would thankfully avail himself, whenever he
could find in the country such a place as he
should like to purchase. The other passengers
made their cold congés, and were dispersing in
their coaches to the hotels, or their different residences.
Mr. Clenning and his wife, having
fixed upon the hotel where they proposed to
stay, were traversing the streets with that peculiar
kind of inspection, which always designates
strangers to citizens. The grace and foreign
air of Augusta were calculated to arrest attention.
Still more so were the hair, the outlandish
face, and the peculiar form of Rescue. The
knowing observers, who saw this singular group
passing along the streets, of course noted them
as persons afflicted with the sad disease of poverty,
interest to inquire farther.
In their way to the hotel, they most fortunately
stumbled upon the minister of Mr. Clenning's
native village. What a meeting was this! All
the feelings of home rushed upon his heart in a
moment. It was with inexpressible delight he
heard that his father's family were all in health.
The minister was a dignified and respectable
man. He was in the city, with two of his
church officers, in the discharge of his ecclesiastical
duties. Mr. Clenning had always been a
favourite with him, and he now enjoyed this
happy meeting from a variety of considerations.
Augusta saw, in a moment, that the minister was
a gentleman of amiable and polished manners,
while her grace and sweetness struck him in such
a way, as immediately to produce that winning
deference and respect, which are so pleasant
to those who have been born and reared in
good society. She saw, in a moment, that a
gentleman of such tact and manners could not
belong to a country so rude and barbarous as
she had thought the interior of the United States
to be. A mutual feeling of regard and good will
was the immediate result of this introduction.
The minister and his friends were exceedingly
anxious to hear the relation of his strange adventures,
and the circumstances of his union with
his wife. This would happily fill up the hours
their journey, which, they agreed, should also be
together, to Mr. Clenning's place of nativity.
They were thus immediately associated with
respectable people, who were the medium of
introducing them to other respectable people,
and Augusta soon observed, with visible satisfaction,
the greater equality of rank and condition,
and that the terms of admission to good society
were more simply founded on goodness of moral
character than in her own country. In company
with these acquaintances they made the circuit
of the town, and Augusta never ceased to express
her astonishment at the display of wealth, bustle,
and business, and appearances so very different
from all that she had expected to find in such a
young country.
| CHAPTER II. The life and adventures of Arthur Clenning, in two volumes | |