I am by birth a Genevese; and my
family is one of the most distinguished of that republic. My
ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics; and my
father had filled several public situations with honour and
reputation. He was respected by all who knew him for his integrity
and indefatigable attention to public business. He passed his
younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; a
variety of circumstances had prevented his marrying early, nor was
it until the decline of life that he became a husband and the father
of a family.
As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate
his character, I cannot refrain from relating them. One of his most
intimate friends was a merchant, who, from a flourishing state,
fell, through numerous mischances, into poverty. This man, whose
name was Beaufort, was of a proud and unbending disposition, and
could not bear to live in poverty and oblivion in the same country
where he had formerly been distinguished for his rank and
magnificence. Having paid his debts, therefore, in the most
honourable manner, he retreated with his daughter to the town of
Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My father loved
Beaufort with the truest friendship, and was deeply grieved by his
retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. He bitterly deplored the
false pride which led his friend to a conduct so little worthy of
the affection that united them. He lost no time in endeavouring to
seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin the world
again through his credit and assistance.
Beaufort had taken
effectual measures to conceal himself; and it was ten months before
my father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery, he
hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean street, near the
Reuss. But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him.
Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of
his fortunes; but it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance
for some months, and in the meantime he hoped to procure some
respectable employment in a merchant's house. The interval was,
consequently, spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and
rankling when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took
so fast hold of his mind that at the end of three months he lay on a
bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion.
His daughter
attended him with the greatest tenderness; but she saw with despair
that their little fund was rapidly decreasing, and that there was no
other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort possessed a mind of
an uncommon mould; and her courage rose to support her in her
adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw; and by
various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to
support life.
Several months passed in this manner. Her
father grew worse; her time was more entirely occupied in attending
him; her means of subsistence decreased; and in the tenth month her
father died in her arms, leaving her an orphan and a beggar. This
last blow overcame her; and she knelt by Beaufort's coffin, weeping
bitterly, when my father entered the chamber. He came like a
protecting spirit to the poor girl, who committed herself to his
care; and after the interment of his friend, he conducted her to
Geneva, and placed her under the protection of a relation. Two years
after this event Caroline became his wife.
There was a
considerable difference between the ages of my parents, but this
circumstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devoted
affection. There was a sense of justice in my father's upright mind,
which rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to love
strongly. Perhaps during former years he had suffered from the late
discovered unworthiness of one beloved, and so was disposed to set a
greater value on tried worth. There was a show of gratitude and
worship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from the
doating fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for her
virtues, and a desire to be the means of, in some degree,
recompensing her for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave
inexpressible grace to his behaviour to her. Everything was made to
yield to her wishes and her convenience. He strove to shelter her,
as a fair exotic is sheltered by the gardener, from every rougher
wind, and to surround her with all that could tend to excite
pleasurable emotion in her soft and benevolent mind. Her health, and
even the tranquillity of her hitherto constant spirit, had been
shaken by what she had gone through. During the two years that had
elapsed previous to their marriage my father had gradually
relinquished all his public functions; and immediately after their
union they sought the pleasant climate of italy, and the change of
scene and interest attendant on a tour through that land of wonders,
as a restorative for her weakened frame.
From Italy they
visted Germany and France. I, their eldest child, was born in
Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles. I
remained for several years their only child. Much as they were
attached to each other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of
affection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me. My
mother's tender caresses, and my father's smile of benevolent
pleasure while regarding me, are my first recollections. I was their
plaything and their idol, and something better--their child, the
innocent and helpless creature bestowed on them by Heaven, whom to
bring up to good, and whose future lot it was in their hands to
direct to happiness or misery, according as they fulfilled their
duties towards me. With this deep consciousness of what they owed
towards the being to which they had given life, added to the active
spirit of tenderness that animated both, it may be imagined that
while during every hour of my infant life I received a lesson of
patience, of charity, and of self control, I was so guided by a
silken cord that all seemed but one train of enjoyment to me.
For a long time I was their only care. My mother had much
desired to have a daughter, but I continued their single offspring.
When I was about five years old, while making an excursion beyond
the frontiers of Italy, they passed a week on the shores of the Lake
of Como. Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the
cottages of the poor. This, to my mother, was more than a duty; it
was a necessity, a passion--remembering what she had suffered, and
how she had been relieved--for her to act in her turn the guardian
angel to the afflicted. During one of their walks a poor cot in the
foldings of a vale attracted their notice as being singularly
disconsolate, while the number of half-clothed children gathered
about it spoke of penury in its worst shape. One day, when my father
had gone by himself to Milan, my mother, accompanied by me, visited
this abode. She found a peasant and his wife, hard working, bent
down by care and labour, distributing a scanty meal to five hungry
babes. Among these there was one which attracted my mother far above
all the rest. She appeared of a different stock. The four others
were dark eyed, hardy little vagrants; this child was thin, and very
fair. Her hair was the brightest living gold, and, despite the
poverty of her clothing, seemed to set a crown of distinction on her
head. Her brow was clear and ample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her
lips and the moulding of her face so expressive of sensibility and
sweetness, that none could behold her without looking on her as of a
distinct species, a being heaven-sent, and bearing a celestial stamp
in all her features.
The peasant woman, perceiving that my
mother fixed eyes of wonder and admiration on this lovely girl,
eagerly communicated her history. She was not her child, but the
daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother was a German, and had
died on giving her birth. The infant had been placed with these good
people to nurse: they were better off then. They had not been long
married, and their eldest child was but just born. The father of
their charge was one of those Italians nursed in the memory of the
antique glory of Italy--one among the _schiavi ognor frementi_, who
exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country. He became the
victim of its weakness. Whether he had died, or still lingered in
the dungeons of Austria, was not known. His property was
confiscated, his child became an orphan and a beggar. She continued
with her foster parents, and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer
than a garden rose among dark-leaved brambles.
When my
father returned from Milan, he found playing with me in the hall of
our villa a child fairer than pictured cherub--a creature who seemed
to shed radiance from her looks, and whose form and motions were
lighter than the chamois of the hills. The apparition was soon
explained. With his permission my mother prevailed on her rustic
guardians to yield their charge to her. They were fond of the sweet
orphan. Her presence had seemed a blessing to them; but it would be
unfair to her to keep her in poverty and want, when Providence
afforded her such powerful protection. They consulted their village
priest, and the result was that Elizabeth Lavenza became the inmate
of my parents' house--my more than sister the beautiful and adored
companion of all my occupations and my pleasures.
Every one
loved Elizabeth. The passionate and almost reverential attachment
with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, my pride and
my delight. On the evening previous to her being brought to my home,
my mother had said playfully--"I have a pretty present for my
Victor--to-morrow he shall have it." And when, on the morrow, she
presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish
seriousness, interpreted her words literally, and looked upon
Elizabeth as mine--mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises
bestowed on her, I received as made to a possession of my own. We
called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no
expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood
to me--my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine
only.
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