With the writer, as far as life has yet lasted, have lingered some
precious memories. The memories of her birthplace made sweet and
hallowed by the remembrance of one who was all tenderness and
gentleness, and who spent much time with her, working and walking in
the pretty garden, and occasionally in the orchard beyond the garden.
Sometimes as we walked by the house the old-fashioned latticed window
would be thrown open, and a beautiful face, adorned with long ringlets,
would smile down upon us; and she remembers what a pretty frame for this
beautiful picture the vines, the jessamine and honeysuckles made.
There was, too, a pretty lawn, in the centre of which grew a tree with
wide-spreading branches, where seats and a table were always ready to
receive gathered flowers and weary little girls, who here loved to climb
upon father's knee and fall happily asleep. But oh, the mystery of
it. How strange it was that wherever she might fall asleep she always
awakened in the same place. This took her a long time to understand. She
was quite a bit old before she understood how she always awoke in
her own bed. But the garden, what a subject of wonder it was with its
old-fashioned flowers, chief among which were its wonderful moss roses
which grew to such perfection there, and the mignonette so fragrantly
sweet; nor can the writer see these roses or inhale the fragrance of
mignonette to this day without being instantly transported back to dear
old Enfield Highway of half a century and more ago. This little girl was
fortunate--or was it unfortunate?--in having so much of the time of
this tender and loving father. She learned long afterwards that it was
because of his failing health he had to live in the garden in summer and
in his room in the winter, because he could breathe nowhere else; and
thus the two least competent ones were relegated to the garden and
inactivity, the last baby in the family and its failing head. A few
yards down the old highway was an inn with a large space in front
where coaches stopped and from whence they started. To this place came
travelling shows of all kinds, acrobats, and lovely ladies who rode the
most beautiful horses, and who wore most gorgeous gold and silver gowns,
and once there came a big van, which bore a learned pig, and a lady who
dressed herself in snakes--that is, she wore them in lieu of necklace,
bracelets, girdles, sashes, etc. But that awful pig was the cause of
much suffering both mentally and physically to this little girl, though
it proved to be a very small addition to the small stock of memories
that alone were all that were left to her for many years of a beloved
parent. But this pig, a pig indeed who could tell all our secrets and
one that could answer questions, as this little girl found out to her
great consternation, for on this wonderful pig being asked by his master
which was the little girl in that company who stole the sugar out of
her mother's sugar-pot? this dreadfully wise pig went round the whole
company and finally stopped right in front of this little girl, who in
the terror of a guilty conscience rushed out of the covered van, tumbled
down the steps, and flew home to tell her mother and confess all. But,
alas! in her great hurry to reach the house, she fell on the gravelled
walk and grazed both hands and knees. She remembers, too, with what
tender pity her father hastened towards her, and picking her up, carried
her crying to the house, and how gently and patiently he bathed the
wounds, and smoothed the grazed skin and bound up the limbs, and nursed
her in his arms, while she told the dreadful tale of that pig, and
bade her be comforted, and actually laughed about that stolen sugar and
kissed her more than ever. She remembered, too, one Sunday when company
was expected to dinner, she, with her sister, had been prettily dressed
in white Swiss muslin and pretty blue sashes, and the brother in
complete Scotch kilt suit, and they being sent out to walk in the garden
while their mother also made her toilet. The brother, fired with a love
of martial glory, and desiring to improve their dresses with a more
warlike appearance, secured from some unknown source a sooty pot, and
dipping his fingers first in water, and then rubbing them on the sooty
bottom of the saucepan, artistically covered those pure white dresses
with innumerable black spots, having done which he hung the pot around
his neck for a drum, with a string, and having found two sticks, he beat
a tattoo on this unique musical instrument, and we sisters fell in line
and marched round the garden, till nearing the house, our father saw us,
whereupon he laughed immoderately, and calling up to our mother to look
out of the back chamber window, awaited results. They came quickly; with
a scream and an exclamation she flew down the stairs, and would have
inflicted condign punishment had not father met her at the door, and
folding her in his arms, he carried her back to her room and kissed
her into good humor again, nor would he allow her to change our clothes
until she had promised him neither to scold or whip us, and she kept her
word. But the story was too good to keep, and we heard both the guests
and our parents laughing heartily at the performance. At another time,
when some gentlemen came to dinner to discuss theology and various
subjects, it was on Sunday, and as usual in English families the
children were brought in with the fruit and nuts at dessert. While
the conversation was going on we children were munching nuts, when our
father made use of a quotation from the New Testament in which the words
"sounding brass and tinkling cymbals" occur. It seems our father got the
spirit but not the exact wording of the verse, and the little daughter
of gravel-walk notoriety ventured to correct the father's rendering of
the verse, when he asked her to give the whole verse, which she did; he
then asked her "if she knew any more?" She answered she knew the whole
chapter, and repeated it in full, at which peal after peal of laughter
rang out at the father's surprise; one of the gentlemen saying something
about "out of the mouths of babes and sucklings cometh wisdom, etc." The
little girl had been attending an infant school, and had been learning
a verse a day, as it happened, of this very chapter. To this school,
one day, came a most lovely vision (in this little girl's eyes), a tall
beautiful woman in a green silk dress, with lovely curls hanging down
her lovely face. Her entrance in the school created a great sensation,
and the little girl remembered how the old lady who kept the school
curtsied to the beautiful visitor, who, after speaking a few moments
with the old dame, left the school leading the little girl by the hand;
and how proud the child was to be brought home by this beautiful woman
rather than by the maid who usually came for her. In the memory of this
little girl too there was a wonderful orchard at the end of the back
garden, which seemed to her small feet endless. There were big clappers
of wood which were used to frighten the birds away from the fruit. The
orchard was literally the place of forbidden fruit to the little
folks, who were not allowed there save in company of older people. One
afternoon we were all taken to the inn to see the London coach come in
on which a large dining-table was which had been sent down from London
by our father, and lo and behold, when the table was cleared of its
wrappings, what should be with it but a large plum-cake for us children,
which father had intended for a surprise. And it was a surprise, indeed.
Mother's ejaculation of "Dear, dear, what a man!" brought tears of joy
to all our eyes. This little girl never could understand some things,
and one was that when we were all out with our nurse that strangers
would stop us and ask whose children we were, and after expressing their
admiration of the beauty of her sister and brother, would pat her head
and only say "She is a nice little thing ". But one memorable day we
moved, and all our belongings were in the front garden; the little girl
was much surprised to find herself cheek by jowl with a nice old man in
marble, who had always lived away up above her reach; but now she could
pat him and smooth him over with her hand, and make out some of the
letters on the pedestal, which was engraved on all sides. The name she
knew, for it was the name of her half-brother, and read Thomas Paine.
These memories and just a few more such were all she was ever to have
personally of a loving and devoted father. There is a remembrance of
standing before a large house and seeing men unload a lot of furniture,
and then the cry coming from someone that "Julian is lost!" and after
that all is confusion and worry, but he is found again after awhile. But
next day we hear that our father is sick, and we feel that we are for
two or three days being kept out of the way, till one night we are
awakened for the first time in our lives, and someone carried the little
girl to a large room where there were several people, strangers, and
where she was held over the bed to kiss what was said to be her father,
though she knew it could not be her father, for he always kissed back,
and this person did not. Later there was a funeral in the house, and
someone lifted this little girl up to see all the people that were
walking in the road following a hearse and carriages; and we had no good
father any more, only a sad and ever-weeping mother. A very little while
and then we go to a very nice house for a few days,* and then to a place
called Ham Common, a sort of vegetarian school where everyone works, and
the children go to school, and where there is no sugar, no salt, nothing
but bread with raisins in it, and fruit and uncooked vegetables, no
milk, eggs, or meat. Our brother goes to a different place where he has
been before, a place called "Harmony Hall", which was founded and under
the direction of Robert Owen. This was well enough, but in a very short
time our sister Hypatia, who had a very delicate constitution, had to
be taken away to Charing Cross Hospital, there to be nursed and built up
with the most generous diet known to the skilful physicians, in order to
save her life. And there she remained for a long period. It was not long
before mother and the little girl left Ham Common and went right to a
home of our own, where soon we were gathered together and began to be
happy again, but never so happy as we had been at Enfield; no, never
again so happy after we had lost that dear father.
* The home of Mrs. Chichester, Park Place, Ham, near
Richmond-on-Thames.