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. |