CHAPTER II. TOUCHING MYSELF AND TEN THOUSAND POUNDS
CHAPTER III. OPINIONS OF OUR AUTHOR’S ANCESTOR, TOGETHER WITH SOME OF HIS OWN, AND SOME OF OTHER PEOPLE’S
CHAPTER IV. SHOWING THE UPS AND DOWNS, THE HOPES AND FEARS, AND THE VAGARIES OF LOVE, SOME VIEWS OF DEATH, AND AN ACCOUNT OF AN INHERITANCE
CHAPTER V. ABOUT THE SOCIAL-STAKE SYSTEM, THE DANGERS OF CONCENTRATION, AND OTHER MORAL AND IMMORAL CURIOSITIES
CHAPTER VI. A THEORY OF PALPABLE SUBLIMITY—SOME PRACTICAL IDEAS, AND THE COMMENCEMENT OF ADVENTURES
CHAPTER VII. TOUCHING AN AMPHIBIOUS ANIMAL, A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
CHAPTER VIII. AN INTRODUCTION TO FOUR NEW CHARACTERS, SOME TOUCHES OF PHILOSOPHY, AND A FEW CAPITAL THOUGHTS ON POLITICAL ECONOMY
CHAPTER IX. THE COMMENCEMENT OF WONDERS, WHICH ARE THE MORE EXTRAORDINARY ON ACCOUNT OF THEIR TRUTH
CHAPTER X. A GREAT DEAL OF NEGOTIATION, IN WHICH HUMAN SHREWDNESS IS COMPLETELY SHAMED, AND HUMAN INGENUITY IS SHOWN TO BE OF A VERY SECONDARY QUALITY
CHAPTER XI. A PHILOSOPHY THAT IS BOTTOMED ON SOMETHING SUBSTANTIAL—SOME REASONS PLAINLY PRESENTED, AND CAVILLING OBJECTIONS PUT TO FLIGHT BY A CHARGE OF LOGICAL BAYONETS.
CHAPTER XII. BETTER AND BETTER—A HIGHER FLIGHT OF REASON—MORE OBVIOUS TRUTHS, DEEPER PHILOSOPHY, AND FACTS THAT EVEN AN OSTRICH MIGHT DIGEST
CHAPTER XIII. A CHAPTER OF PREPARATIONS—DISCRIMINATION IN CHARACTER—A TIGHT FIT, AND OTHER CONVENIENCES, WITH SOME JUDGMENT
CHAPTER XIV. HOW TO STEER SMALL—HOW TO RUN THE GAUNTLET WITH A SHIP—HOW TO GO CLEAR—A NEW-FASHIONED SCREW—DOCK, AND CERTAIN MILE-STONES
CHAPTER XV. AN ARRIVAL—FORMS OF RECEPTION—SEVERAL NEW CHRISTENINGS—AN OFFICIAL DOCUMENT, AND TERRA FIRMA
CHAPTER XVI. AN INN—DEBTS PAID IN ADVANCE, AND A SINGULAR TOUCH OF HUMAN NATURE FOUND CLOSELY INCORPORATED WITH MONIKIN NATURE
CHAPTER XVII. NEW LORDS, NEW LAWS—GYRATION, ROTATION, AND ANOTHER NATION; ALSO AN INVITATION
CHAPTER XVIII. A COURT, A COURT-DRESS, AND A COURTIER—JUSTICE IN VARIOUS ASPECTS, AS WELL AS HONOR
CHAPTER XIX. ABOUT THE HUMILITY OF PROFESSIONAL SAINTS, A SUCCESSION OF TAILS, A BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM, AND OTHER HEAVENLY MATTERS, DIPLOMACY INCLUDED
CHAPTER XX. A VERY COMMON CASE: OR A GREAT DEAL OF LAW, AND VERY LITTLE JUSTICE—HEADS AND TAILS, WITH THE DANGERS OF EACH
CHAPTER XXI. BETTER AND BETTER—MORE LAW AND MORE JUSTICE—TAILS AND HEADS: THE IMPORTANCE OF KEEPING EACH IN ITS PROPER PLACE
CHAPTER XXII. A NEOPHYTE IN DIPLOMACY—DIPLOMATIC INTRODUCTION—A CALCULATION—A SHIPMENT OF OPINIONS—HOW TO CHOOSE AN INVOICE, WITH AN ASSORTMENT
CHAPTER XXIII. POLITICAL BOUNDARIES—POLITICAL RIGHTS—POLITICAL SELECTIONS, AND POLITICAL DISQUISITIONS; WITH POLITICAL RESULTS
CHAPTER XXIV. AN ARRIVAL—AN ELECTION—ARCHITECTURE—A ROLLING-PIN, AND PATRIOTISM OF THE MOST APPROVED WATER
CHAPTER XXV. A FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLE, A FUNDAMENTAL LAW, AND A FUNDAMENTAL ERROR
CHAPTER XXVI. HOW TO ENACT LAWS—ORATORY, LOGIC, AND ELOQUENCE; ALL CONSIDERED IN THEIR EVERY-DAY ASPECTS
CHAPTER XXVII. AN EFFECT OF LOGARITHMS ON MORALS—AN OBSCURATION, A DISSERTATION, AND A CALCULATION
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE IMPORTANCE OF MOTIVES TO A LEGISLATOR—MORAL CONSECUTIVENESS, COMETS, KITES, AND A CONVOY; WITH SOME EVERY-DAY LEGISLATION; TOGETHER WITH CAUSE AND EFFECT.
CHAPTER XXIX. SOME EXPLANATIONS—A HUMAN APPETITE—A DINNER AND A BONNE BOUCHE
CHAPTER XXX. EXPLANATIONS—A LEAVE-TAKING—LOVE—CONFESSIONS, BUT NO PENITENCE
INTRODUCTION.
It is not improbable that some of those who read this book, may feel a
wish to know in what manner I became possessed of the manuscript. Such
a desire is too just and natural to be thwarted, and the tale shall be
told as briefly as possible.
During the summer of 1828, while travelling among those valleys of
Switzerland which lie between the two great ranges of the Alps, and in
which both the Rhone and the Rhine take their rise, I had passed from
the sources of the latter to those of the former river, and had reached
that basin in the mountains that is so celebrated for containing the
glacier of the Rhone, when chance gave me one of those rare moments of
sublimity and solitude, which are the more precious in the other
hemisphere from their infrequency. On every side the view was bounded
by high and ragged mountains, their peaks glittering near the sun,
while directly before me, and on a level with the eye, lay that
miraculous frozen sea, out of whose drippings the Rhone starts a
foaming river, to glance away to the distant Mediterranean. For the
first time, during a pilgrimage of years, I felt alone with nature in
Europe. Alas! the enjoyment, as all such enjoyments necessarily are
amid the throngs of the old world, was short and treacherous. A party
came round the angle of a rock, along the narrow bridle-path, in single
file; two ladies on horseback, followed by as many gentlemen on foot,
and preceded by the usual guide. It was but small courtesy to rise and
salute the dove-like eyes and blooming cheeks of the former, as they
passed. They were English, and the gentlemen appeared to recognize me
as a countryman. One of the latter stopped, and politely inquired if
the passage of the Furca was obstructed by snow. He was told not, and
in return for the information said that I would find the Grimsel a
little ticklish; “but,” he added, smiling, “the ladies succeeded in
crossing, and you will scarcely hesitate.” I thought I might get over a
difficulty that his fair companions had conquered. He then told me Sir
Herbert Taylor was made adjutant-general, and wished me good morning.
I sat reflecting on the character, hopes, pursuits, and interests of
man, for an hour, concluding that the stranger was a soldier, who let
some of the ordinary workings of his thoughts overflow in this brief
and casual interview. To resume my solitary journey, cross the Rhone,
and toil my way up the rugged side of the Grimsel, consumed two more
hours, and glad was I to come in view of the little chill-looking sheet
of water on its summit, which is called the Lake of the Dead. The path
was filled with snow, at a most critical point, where, indeed, a
misplaced footstep might betray the incautious to their destruction. A
large party on the other side appeared fully aware of the difficulty,
for it had halted, and was in earnest discussion with the guide,
touching the practicability of passing. It was decided to attempt the
enterprise. First came a female of one of the sweetest, serenest
countenances I had ever seen. She, too, was English; and though she
trembled, and blushed, and laughed at herself, she came on with spirit,
and would have reached my side in safety, had not an unlucky stone
turned beneath a foot that was much too pretty for those wild hills. I
sprang forward, and was so happy as to save her from destruction. She
felt the extent of the obligation, and expressed her thanks modestly
but with fervor. In a minute we were joined by her husband, who grasped
my hand with warm feeling, or rather with the emotion one ought to feel
who had witnessed the risk he had just run of losing an angel. The lady
seemed satisfied at leaving us together.
“You are an Englishman?” said the stranger.
“An American.”
“An American! This is singular—will you pardon a question?—You have
more than saved my life—you have probably saved my reason—will you
pardon a question?—Can money serve you?”
I smiled, and told him, odd as it might appear to him, that though an
American, I was a gentleman. He appeared embarrassed, and his fine face
worked, until I began to pity him, for it was evident he wished to show
me in some way, how much he felt he was my debtor, and yet he did not
know exactly what to propose.
“We may meet again,” I said, squeezing his hand.
“Will you receive my card?”
“Most willingly.”
He put “Viscount Householder” into my hand, and in return I gave him my
own humble appellation.
He looked from the card to me, and from me to the card, and some
agreeable idea appeared to flash upon his mind.
“Shall you visit Geneva this summer?” he asked, earnestly.
“Within a month.”
“Your address—”
“Hotel de l’Ecu.”
“You shall hear from me. Adieu.”
We parted, he, his lovely wife, and his guides descending to the Rhone,
while I pursued my way to the Hospice of the Grimsel. Within the month
I received a large packet at l’Ecu. It contained a valuable diamond
ring, with a request that I would wear it, as a memorial of Lady
Householder, and a fairly written manuscript. The following short note
explained the wishes of the writer:
“Providence brought us together for more purposes than were at first
apparent. I have long hesitated about publishing the accompanying
narrative, for in England there is a disposition to cavil at
extraordinary facts, but the distance of America from my place of
residence will completely save me from ridicule. The world must have
the truth, and I see no better means than by resorting to your agency.
All I ask is, that you will have the book fairly printed, and that you
will send one copy to my address, Householder Hall, Dorsetshire, Eng.,
and another to Captain Noah Poke, Stonington, Conn., in your own
country. My Anna prays for you, and is ever your friend. Do not forget
us.
“Yours, most faithfully,”
“HOUSEHOLDER.”
I have rigidly complied with this request, and having sent the two
copies according to direction, the rest of the edition is at the
disposal of any one who may feel an inclination to pay for it. In
return for the copy sent to Stonington, I received the following
letter:
“ON BOARD THE DERBY AND DOLLY, “STONNIN’TUN, April 1st, 1835.
“AUTHOR OF THE SPY, ESQUIRE:
“Dear Sir:—Your favor is come to hand, and found me in good health, as
I hope these few lines will have the same advantage with you. I have
read the book, and must say there is some truth in it, which, I
suppose, is as much as befalls any book, the Bible, the Almanac, and
the State Laws excepted. I remember Sir John well, and shall gainsay
nothing he testifies to, for the reason that friends should not
contradict each other. I was also acquainted with the four Monikins he
speaks of, though I knew them by different names. Miss Poke says she
wonders if it’s all true, which I wunt tell her, seeing that a little
unsartainty makes a woman rational. As to my navigating without
geometry, thats a matter that wasn’t worth booking, for it’s no
curiosity in these parts, bating a look at the compass once or twice a
day, and so I take my leave of you, with offers to do any commission
for you among the Sealing Islands, for which I sail to-morrow, wind and
weather permitting.
“Yours to sarve, NOAH POKE.”
“To the Author of THE SPY, Esquire, ——— town, ——— county, York state.
“P. S.—I always told Sir John to steer clear of too much journalizing,
but he did nothing but write, night and day, for a week; and as you
brew, so you must bake. The wind has chopped, and we shall take our
anchor this tide; so no more at present.
“N. B.—Sir John is a little out about my eating the monkey, which I
did, four years before I fell in with him, down on the Spanish Main. It
was not bad food to the taste, but was wonderful narvous to the eye. I
r’ally thought I had got hold of Miss Poke’s youngest born.”
THE MONIKINS.
CHAPTER I.
THE AUTHOR’S PEDIGREE,—ALSO THAT OF HIS FATHER.
The philosopher who broaches a new theory is bound to furnish, at
least, some elementary proofs of the reasonableness of his positions,
and the historian who ventures to record marvels that have hitherto
been hid from human knowledge, owes it to a decent regard to the
opinions of others, to produce some credible testimony in favor of his
veracity. I am peculiarly placed in regard to these two great
essentials having little more than its plausibility to offer in favor
of my philosophy, and no other witness than myself to establish the
important facts that are now about to be laid before the reading world
for the first time. In this dilemma, I fully feel the weight of
responsibility under which I stand; for there are truths of so little
apparent probability as to appear fictitious, and fictions so like the
truth that the ordinary observer is very apt to affirm that he was an
eye-witness to their existence: two facts that all our historians would
do well to bear in mind, since a knowledge of the circumstances might
spare them the mortification of having testimony that cost a deal of
trouble, discredited in the one case, and save a vast deal of painful
and unnecessary labor, in the other. Thrown upon myself, therefore, for
what the French call les pieces justificatives of my theories, as well
as of my facts, I see no better way to prepare the reader to believe
me, than by giving an unvarnished the result of the orange-woman’s
application; for had my worthy ancestor been subjected to the happy
accidents and generous caprices of voluntary charity, it is more than
probable I should be driven to throw a veil over those important years
of his life that were notoriously passed in the work-house, but which,
in consequence of that occurrence, are now easily authenticated by
valid minutes and documentary evidence. Thus it is that there exists no
void in the annals of our family, even that period which is usually
remembered through gossiping and idle tales in the lives of most men,
being matter of legal record in that of my progenitor, and so continued
to be down to the day of his presumed majority, since he was indebted
to a careful master the moment the parish could with any legality,
putting decency quite out of the question, get rid of him. I ought to
have said, that the orange-woman, taking a hint from the sign of a
butcher opposite to whose door my ancestor was found, had very cleverly
given him the name of Thomas Goldencalf.
This second important transition in the affairs of my father, might be
deemed a presage of his future fortunes. He was bound apprentice to a
trader in fancy articles, or a shopkeeper who dealt in such objects as
are usually purchased by those who do not well know what to do with
their money. This trade was of immense advantage to the future
prosperity of the young adventurer; for, in addition to the known fact
that they who amuse are much better paid than they who instruct their
fellow-creatures, his situation enabled him to study those caprices of
men, which, properly improved, are of themselves a mine of wealth, as
well as to gain a knowledge of the important truth that the greatest
events of this life are much oftener the result of impulse than of
calculation.
I have it by a direct tradition, orally conveyed from the lips of my
ancestor, that no one could be more lucky than himself in the character
of his master. This personage, who came, in time, to be my maternal
grandfather, was one of those wary traders who encourage others in
their follies, with a view to his own advantage, and the experience of
fifty years had rendered him so expert in the practices of his calling,
that it was seldom he struck out a new vein in his mine, without
finding himself rewarded for the enterprise, by a success that was
fully equal to his expectations.
“Tom,” he said one day to his apprentice, when time had produced
confidence and awakened sympathies between them, “thou art a lucky
youth, or the parish officer would never have brought thee to my door.
Thou little knowest the wealth that is in store for thee, or the
treasures that are at thy command, if thou provest diligent, and in
particular faithful to my interests.” My provident grandfather never
missed an occasion to throw in a useful moral, notwithstanding the
general character of veracity that distinguished his commerce. “Now,
what dost think, lad, may be the amount of my capital?”
My ancestor in the male line hesitated to reply, for, hitherto, his
ideas had been confined to the profits; never having dared to lift his
thoughts as high as that source from which he could not but see they
flowed in a very ample stream; but thrown upon himself by so unexpected
a question, and being quick at figures, after adding ten per cent. to
the sum which he knew the last year had given as the net avail of their
joint ingenuity, he named the amount, in answered to the interrogatory.
My maternal grandfather laughed in the face of my direct lineal
ancestor.
“Thou judgest, Tom,” he said, when his mirth was a little abated, “by
what thou thinkest is the cost of the actual stock before thine eyes,
when thou shouldst take into the account that which I term our floating
capital.”
Tom pondered a moment, for while he knew that his master had money in
the funds, he did not account that as any portion of the available
means connected with his ordinary business; and as for a floating
capital, he did not well see how it could be of much account, since the
disproportion between the cost and the selling prices of the different
articles in which they dealt was so great, that there was no particular
use in such an investment. As his master, however, rarely paid for
anything until he was in possession of returns from it that exceeded
the debt some seven-fold, he began to think the old man was alluding to
the advantages he obtained in the way of credit, and after a little
more cogitation, he ventured to say as much.
Again my maternal grandfather indulged in a hearty fit of laughter.
“Thou art clever in thy way, Tom,” he said, “and I like the minuteness
of thy calculations, for they show an aptitude for trade; but there is
genius in our calling as well as cleverness. Come hither, boy,” he
added, drawing Tom to a window whence they could see the neighbors on
their way to church, for it was on a Sunday that my two provident
progenitors indulged in this moral view of humanity, as best fitted the
day, “come hither, boy, and thou shalt see some small portion of that
capital which thou seemest to think hid, stalking abroad by daylight,
and in the open streets. Here, thou seest the wife of our neighbor, the
pastry-cook; with what an air she tosses her head and displays the
bauble thou sold’st her yesterday: well, even that slattern, idle and
vain, and little worthy of trust as she is, carries about with her a
portion of my capital!”
My worthy ancestor stared, for he never knew the other to be guilty of
so great an indiscretion as to trust a woman whom they both knew bought
more than her husband was willing to pay for.
“She gave me a guinea, master, for that which did not cost a
seven-shilling piece!”
“She did, indeed, Tom, and it was her vanity that urged her to it. I
trade upon her folly, younker, and upon that of all mankind; now dost
thou see with what a capital I carry on affairs? There—there is the
maid, carrying the idle hussy’s patterns in the rear; I drew upon my
stock in that wench’s possession, no later than the last week, for
half-a-crown!”
Tom reflected a long time on these allusions of his provident master,
and although he understood them about as well as they will be
understood by the owners of half the soft humid eyes and sprouting
whiskers among my readers, by dint of cogitation he came at last to a
practical understanding of the subject, which before he was thirty he
had, to use a French term, pretty well exploite.
I learn by unquestionable tradition, received also from the mouths of
his contemporaries, that the opinions of my ancestor underwent some
material changes between the ages of ten and forty, a circumstance that
has often led me to reflect that people might do well not to be too
confident of the principles, during the pliable period of life, when
the mind, like the tender shoot, is easily bent aside and subjected to
the action of surrounding causes.
During the earlier years of the plastic age, my ancestor was observed
to betray strong feelings of compassion at the sight of
charity-children, nor was he ever known to pass a child, especially a
boy that was still in petticoats, who was crying with hunger in the
streets, without sharing his own crust with him. Indeed, his practice
on this head was said to be steady and uniform, whenever the rencontre
took place after my worthy father had had his own sympathies quickened
by a good dinner; a fact that maybe imputed to a keener sense of the
pleasure he was about to confer.
After sixteen, he was known to converse occasionally on the subject of
politics, a topic on which he came to be both expert and eloquent
before twenty. His usual theme was justice and the sacred rights of
man, concerning which he sometimes uttered very pretty sentiments, and
such as were altogether becoming in one who was at the bottom of the
great social pot that was then, as now, actively boiling, and where he
was made to feel most, the heat that kept it in ebullition. I am
assured that on the subject of taxation, and on that of the wrongs of
America and Ireland, there were few youths in the parish who could
discourse with more zeal and unction. About this time, too, he was
heard shouting “Wilkes and liberty!” in the public streets.
But, as is the case with all men of rare capacities, there was a
concentration of powers in the mind of my ancestor, which soon brought
all his errant sympathies, the mere exuberance of acute and overflowing
feelings, into a proper and useful subjection, centring all in the one
absorbing and capacious receptacle of self. I do not claim for my
father any peculiar quality in this respect, for I have often observed
that many of those who (like giddy-headed horsemen that raise a great
dust, and scamper as if the highway were too narrow for their eccentric
courses, before they are fairly seated in the saddle, but who afterward
drive as directly at their goals as the arrow parting from the bow),
most indulge their sympathies at the commencement of their careers, are
the most apt toward the close to get a proper command of their
feelings, and to reduce them within the bounds of common sense and
prudence. Before five-and-twenty, my father was as exemplary and as
constant a devotee of Plutus as was then to be found between Ratcliffe
Highway and Bridge Street:—I name these places in particular, as all
the rest of the great capital in which he was born is known to be more
indifferent to the subject of money.
My ancestor was just thirty, when his master, who like himself was a
bachelor, very unexpectedly, and a good deal to the scandal of the
neighborhood, introduced a new inmate into his frugal abode, in the
person of an infant female child. It would seem that some one had been
speculating on his stock of weakness too, for this poor, little,
defenceless, and dependent being was thrown upon his care, like Tom
himself, through the vigilance of the parish officers. There were many
good-natured jokes practised on the prosperous fancy-dealer, by the
more witty of his neighbors, at this sudden turn of good fortune, and
not a few ill-natured sneers were given behind his back; most of the
knowing ones of the vicinity finding a stronger likeness between the
little girl and all the other unmarried men of the eight or ten
adjoining streets, than to the worthy housekeeper who had been selected
to pay for her support. I have been much disposed to admit the opinions
of these amiable observers as authority in my own pedigree, since it
would be reaching the obscurity in which all ancient lines take root, a
generation earlier, than by allowing the presumption that little Betsey
was my direct male ancestor’s master’s daughter; but, on reflection, I
have determined to adhere to the less popular but more simple version
of the affair, because it is connected with the transmission of no
small part of our estate, a circumstance of itself that at once gives
dignity and importance to a genealogy.
Whatever may have been the real opinion of the reputed father touching
his rights to the honors of that respectable title, he soon became as
strongly attached to the child, as if it really owed its existence to
himself. The little girl was carefully nursed, abundantly fed, and
throve accordingly. She had reached her third year, when the
fancy-dealer took the smallpox from his little pet, who was just
recovering from the same disease, and died at the expiration of the
tenth day.
This was an unlooked-for and stunning blow to my ancestor, who was then
in his thirty-fifth year and the head shopman of the establishment,
which had continued to grow with the growing follies and vanities of
the age. On examining his master’s will, it was found that my father,
who had certainly aided materially of late in the acquisition of the
money, was left the good-will of the shop, the command of all the stock
at cost, and the sole executorship of the estate. He was also intrusted
with the exclusive guardianship of little Betsey, to whom his master
had affectionately devised every farthing of his property. An ordinary
reader may be surprised that a man who had so long practised on the
foibles of his species, should have so much confidence in a mere
shopman, as to leave his whole estate so completely in his power; but,
it must be remembered, that human ingenuity has not yet devised any
means by which we can carry our personal effects into the other world;
that “what cannot be cured must be endured”; that he must of necessity
have confided this important trust to some fellow-creature, and that it
was better to commit the keeping of his money to one who, knowing the
secret by which it had been accumulated, had less inducement to be
dishonest, than one who was exposed to the temptation of covetousness,
without having a knowledge of any direct and legal means of gratifying
his longings. It has been conjectured, therefore, that the testator
thought, by giving up his trade to a man who was as keenly alive as my
ancestor to all its perfections, moral and pecuniary, he provided a
sufficient protection against his falling into the sin of peculation,
by so amply supplying him with simpler means of enriching himself.
Besides, it is fair to presume that the long acquaintance had begotten
sufficient confidence to weaken the effect of that saying which some
wit has put into the mouth of a wag, “Make me your executor, father; I
care not to whom you leave the estate.” Let all this be as it might,
nothing can be more certain than that my worthy ancestor executed his
trust with the scrupulous fidelity of a man whose integrity had been
severely schooled in the ethics of trade. Little Betsey was properly
educated for one in her condition of life; her health was as carefully
watched over as if she had been the only daughter of the sovereign
instead of the only daughter of a fancy-dealer; her morals were
superintended by a superannuated old maid; her mind left to its
original purity; her person jealously protected against the designs of
greedy fortune-hunters; and, to complete the catalogue of his paternal
attentions and solicitudes, my vigilant and faithful ancestor, to
prevent accidents, and to counteract the chances of life, so far as it
might be done by human foresight, saw that she was legally married, the
day she reached her nineteenth year, to the person whom, there is every
reason to think, he believed to be the most unexceptionable man of his
acquaintance—in other words, to himself. Settlements were unnecessary
between parties who had so long been known to each other, and, thanks
to the liberality of his late master’s will in more ways than one, a
long minority, and the industry of the ci-devant head shopman, the
nuptial benediction was no sooner pronounced, than our family stepped
into the undisputed possession of four hundred thousand pounds. One
less scrupulous on the subject of religion and the law, might not have
thought it necessary to give the orphan heiress a settlement so
satisfactory, at the termination of her wardship.
I was the fifth of the children who were the fruits of this union, and
the only one of them all that passed the first year of its life. My
poor mother did not survive my birth, and I can only record her
qualities through the medium of that great agent in the archives of the
family, tradition. By all that I have heard, she must have been a meek,
quiet, domestic woman; who, by temperament and attainments, was
admirably qualified to second the prudent plans of my father for her
welfare. If she had causes of complaint, (and that she had, there is
too much reason to think, for who has ever escaped them?) they were
concealed, with female fidelity, in the sacred repository of her own
heart; and if truant imagination sometimes dimly drew an outline of
married happiness different from the fact that stood in dull reality
before her eyes, the picture was merely commented on by a sigh, and
consigned to a cabinet whose key none ever touched but herself, and she
seldom.
Of this subdued and unobtrusive sorrow, for I fear it sometimes reached
that intensity of feeling, my excellent and indefatigable ancestor
appeared to have no suspicion. He pursued his ordinary occupations with
his ordinary single-minded devotion, and the last thing that would have
crossed his brain was the suspicion that he had not punctiliously done
his duty by his ward. Had he acted otherwise, none surely would have
suffered more by his delinquency than her husband, and none would have
a better right to complain. Now, as her husband never dreamt of making
such an accusation, it is not at all surprising that my ancestor
remained in ignorance of his wife’s feelings at the hour of his death.
It has been said that the opinions of the successor of the fancy-dealer
underwent some essential changes between the ages of ten and forty.
After he had reached his twenty-second year, or, in other words, the
moment he began to earn money for himself, as well as for his master,
he ceased to cry “Wilkes and liberty!” He was not heard to breathe a
syllable concerning the obligations of society toward the weak and
unfortunate, for the five years that succeeded his majority; he touched
lightly on Christian duties in general, after he got to be worth fifty
pounds of his own; and as for railing at human follies, it would have
been rank ingratitude in one who so very unequivocally got his bread by
them. About this time, his remarks on the subject of taxation, however,
were singularly caustic, and well applied. He railed at the public
debt, as a public curse, and ominously predicted the dissolution of
society, in consequence of the burdens and incumbrances it was hourly
accumulating on the already overloaded shoulders of the trader.
The period of his marriage and his succession to the hoardings of his
former master, may be dated as the second epocha in the opinions of my
ancestor. From this moment his ambition expanded, his views enlarged in
proportion to his means, and his contemplations on the subject of his
great floating capital became more profound and philosophical. A man of
my ancestor’s native sagacity, whose whole soul was absorbed in the
pursuit of gain, who had so long been forming his mind, by dealing as
it were with the elements of human weaknesses, and who already
possessed four hundred thousand pounds, was very likely to strike out
for himself some higher road to eminence, than that in which he had
been laboriously journeying, during the years of painful probation. The
property of my mother had been chiefly invested in good bonds and
mortgages; her protector, patron, benefactor, and legalized father,
having an unconquerable repugnance to confiding in that soulless,
conventional, nondescript body corporate, the public. The first
indication that was given by my ancestor of a change of purpose in the
direction of his energies, was by calling in the whole of his
outstanding debts, and adopting the Napoleon plan of operations, by
concentrating his forces on a particular point, in order that he might
operate in masses. About this time, too, he suddenly ceased railing at
taxation. This change may be likened to that which occurs in the
language of the ministerial journals, when they cease abusing any
foreign state with whom the nation has been carrying on a war, that it
is, at length, believed politic to terminate; and for much the same
reason, as it was the intention of my thrifty ancestor to make an ally
of a power that he had hitherto always treated as an enemy. The whole
of the four hundred thousand pounds were liberally intrusted to the
country, the former fancy-dealer’s apprentice entering the arena of
virtuous and patriotic speculation, as a bull; and, if with more
caution, with at least some portion of the energy and obstinacy of the
desperate animal that gives title to this class of adventurers. Success
crowned his laudable efforts; gold rolled in upon him like water on a
flood, buoying him up, soul and body, to that enviable height, where,
as it would seem, just views can alone be taken of society in its
innumerable phases. All his former views of life, which, in common with
others of a similar origin and similar political sentiments, he had
imbibed in early years, and which might with propriety be called near
views, were now completely obscured by the sublimer and broader
prospect that was spread before him.
I am afraid the truth will compel me to admit, that my ancestor was
never charitable in the vulgar acceptation of the term; but then, he
always maintained that his interest in his fellow-creatures was of a
more elevated cast, taking a comprehensive glance at all the bearings
of good and evil—being of the sort of love which induces the parent to
correct the child, that the lesson of present suffering may produce the
blessings of future respectability and usefulness. Acting on these
principles, he gradually grew more estranged from his species in
appearance, a sacrifice that was probably exacted by the severity of
his practical reproofs for their growing wickedness, and the austere
policy that was necessary to enforce them. By this time, my ancestor
was also thoroughly impressed with what is called the value of money; a
sentiment which, I believe, gives its possessor a livelier perception
than common of the dangers of the precious metals, as well as of their
privileges and uses. He expatiated occasionally on the guaranties that
it was necessary to give to society, for its own security; never even
voted for a parish officer unless he were a warm substantial citizen;
and began to be a subscriber to the patriotic fund, and to the other
similar little moral and pecuniary buttresses of the government, whose
common and commendable object was, to protect our country, our altars,
and our firesides.
The death-bed of my mother has been described to me as a touching and
melancholy scene. It appears that as this meek and retired woman was
extricated from the coil of mortality, her intellect grew brighter, her
powers of discernment stronger, and her character in every respect more
elevated and commanding. Although she had said much less about our
firesides and altars than her husband, I see no reason to doubt that
she had ever been quite as faithful as he could be to the one, and as
much devoted to the other. I shall describe the important event of her
passage from this to a better world, as I have often had it repeated
from the lips of one who was present, and who has had an important
agency in since making me the man I am. This person was the clergyman
of the parish, a pious divine, a learned man, and a gentleman in
feeling as well as by extraction.
My mother, though long conscious that she was drawing near to her last
great account, had steadily refused to draw her husband from his
absorbing pursuits, by permitting him to be made acquainted with her
situation. He knew that she was ill; very ill, as he had reason to
think; but, as he not only allowed her, but even volunteered to order
her all the advice and relief that money could command (my ancestor was
not a miser in the vulgar meaning of the word), he thought that he had
done all that man could do, in a case of life and death—interests over
which he professed to have no control. He saw Dr. Etherington, the
rector, come and go daily, for a month, without uneasiness or
apprehension, for he thought his discourse had a tendency to
tranquillize my mother, and he had a strong affection for all that left
him undisturbed, to the enjoyment of the occupation in which his whole
energies were now completely centred. The physician got his guinea at
each visit, with scrupulous punctuality; the nurses were well received
and were well satisfied, for no one interfered with their acts but the
doctor; and every ordinary duty of commission was as regularly
discharged by my ancestor, as if the sinking and resigned creature from
whom he was about to be forever separated had been the spontaneous
choice of his young and fresh affections.
When, therefore, a servant entered to say that Dr. Etherington desired
a private interview, my worthy ancestor, who had no consciousness of
having neglected any obligation that became a friend of church and
state, was in no small measure surprised.
“I come, Mr. Goldencalf, on a melancholy duty,” said the pious rector,
entering the private cabinet to which his application had for the first
time obtained his admission; “the fatal secret can no longer be
concealed from you, and your wife at length consents that I shall be
the instrument of revealing it.”
The Doctor paused; for on such occasions it is perhaps as well to let
the party that is about to be shocked receive a little of the blow
through his own imagination; and busily enough was that of my poor
father said to be exercised on this painful occasion. He grew pale,
opened his eyes until they again filled the sockets into which they had
gradually been sinking for twenty years, and looked a hundred questions
that his tongue refused to put.
“It cannot be, Doctor,” he at length querulously said, “that a woman
like Betsey has got an inkling into any of the events connected with
the last great secret expedition, and which have escaped my jealousy
and experience?”
“I am afraid, dear sir, that Mrs. Goldencalf has obtained glimpses of
the last great and secret expedition on which we must all, sooner or
later, embark, that have entirely escaped your vigilance. But of this I
will speak some other time. At present it is my painful duty to inform
you it is the opinion of the physician that your excellent wife cannot
outlive the day, if, indeed, she do the hour.”
My father was struck with this intelligence, and for more than a minute
he remained silent and without motion. Casting his eyes toward the
papers on which he had lately been employed, and which contained some
very important calculations connected with the next settling day, he at
length resumed:
“If this be really so, Doctor, it may be well for me to go to her,
since one in the situation of the poor woman may indeed have something
of importance to communicate.”
“It is with this object that I have now come to tell you the truth,”
quietly answered the divine, who knew that nothing was to be gained by
contending with the besetting weakness of such a man, at such a moment.
My father bent his head in assent, and, first carefully enclosing the
open papers in a secretary, he followed his companion to the bedside of
his dying wife.