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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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