Part 9

_7th._--From all I had heard Colonel Travers say about rice, I imagined that its cultivation was almost confined to India; and I had no idea till yesterday that it grew in North America, and even in Germany. I renewed therefore the conversation to-day, and I now find that it is so much cultivated in Spain, particularly in the low parts of the province of Valencia, that a very large quantity is exported every year.

The ground is prepared for it there by first sowing beans; and when they come into blossom, which is about March, they are ploughed in for manure, and flooded with water to the depth of four inches. After a third ploughing the rice is sown; and when it comes up, it is transplanted to another prepared field, and again covered with water. Each stem produces about twenty-four fold. When ripe it is gathered in sheaves, and put into a mill, the lower grinding-stone of which is covered with cork, by which means the chaff is separated without bruising the grain.

My aunt tells me that rice grows wild in the swamps of Upper Canada; and that the shallow parts of Rice Lake, which is near the residence of Mrs. * * *, is full of it. Her letters describe it as having the appearance of reeds with long narrow leaves, and bearing clusters of flowers at the top of the stem.

It is curious that the plant chiefly cultivated in the Sandwich Islands for food is managed very like rice;--the _taro_, to grow in perfection, requiring irrigation. The fields are divided for that purpose, like the rice grounds of the East, into small squares which may be easily flooded, and the roots are planted in rows. The root of the taro when roasted resembles the yam; but it is usually pounded into a paste, and then mixed with water, so as to become of the consistence of porridge.

The Sandwich Islands are nearer to you than to England, and yet perhaps you do not know, dear mamma, that although the bread-fruit is the most important of all their vegetables, they have another very useful one, called _Tee_ by the natives. The root is sweet, and produces a pleasant liquor, but a little intoxicating. The leaves woven together form a light cloak for the inhabitants of the mountains;--something like those formed of the palm leaves by the poorer natives of Hindostan, to shelter them while at work in the open fields. Fences are often formed by planting the tee roots close together; but what makes the plant particularly remarkable is, that a stalk of it is with them the symbol of peace, as a branch of olive is with us.

Of the bark of the paper mulberry that ingenious people manufacture very nice cloth; they make beautiful mats from the leaves of their palm trees; and you know what pretty cloaks and caps of feathers have been brought home from all those islands. They even stamp their cloth with patterns; and their weapons and bowls are highly carved. “This shews,” my aunt says, “that whenever people arrive at a certain point of civilization, that is, as soon as their food and other necessaries of life are surely and regularly supplied, the ornamental arts as surely follow.”

She afterwards added, that she thought it would be a very nice winter amusement for us to describe to each other the arts and luxuries as well as the principal natural productions of the different parts of the globe.

My uncle approved of this idea, and we are to try it sometimes as we sit after dinner round the fire. I fear I am quite too ignorant to attempt to bear a part; but I am sure I shall be delighted to listen.

_8th._--The sun rose this morning so brilliantly, and the distant hills looked so remarkably blue and clear, that I was sure we should have a fine day and a long walk; but my uncle told me that, at this season, both of those appearances indicate rain; and he took me to the barometer, and shewed me, by his meteorological journal, that the mercury had been _gradually_ falling ever since Monday night, and that it was very hollow on its upper surface. From all this he thinks there will be some days of continued bad weather. Accordingly, before breakfast was well over, the clouds began to collect about the mountain tops, and it is now raining. I have already made some progress in transcribing Mrs. P.’s memoir for my dear mamma; and if his prediction be correct, I shall have time to finish it before the return of dry weather.

MRS. P.’S NARRATIVE.

I am now going to fulfil my promise, Bertha, by giving you a sketch of my life; and as I shall begin by a detail of those early circumstances which have unceasingly influenced its happiness or misery, there will seldom be occasion to interrupt my narrative in order to point out their consequences. You will have no difficulty in perceiving how inevitably my errors led to their punishment; how certainly the heart is corrupted by selfish indulgence; and how pursuits that in themselves are laudable may become pernicious, if not controlled by a sense of duty.

I was unfortunately what is called a very promising child, quick in all my perceptions, and equally capable of retaining the knowledge I so readily acquired. My parents, delighted at my progress, were proud of their child; and by friends and visiters I was considered a prodigy. This injudicious praise had so powerful an effect, that when I was about twelve years old I determined to lay aside the common amusements of children, and to become a singular and distinguished character. My ambition was the more easily fostered, as in our retired situation we had but few neighbours; and, therefore, an occasional interview with their children, or a chance visit from my cousins, supplied me but scantily with opportunities of giving way to the natural activity of youth, or of having my pedantry successfully ridiculed by companions of my own age.

The pleasure which I had formerly taken in learning whatever was difficult, in order to astonish my mother, now became a real wish for knowledge; and as my ardour increased every year, I studied many subjects which are not in the usual course of female education. Though my mother would by no means have approved of such pursuits for other young ladies, yet so great was my influence, that I was not only uncontrolled by her, but even assisted by my father as far as his own powers permitted.

The attainments of either were very limited: they had amiable but narrow views of life; they were devoted to each other, and to their children; and to the poor around them, they were actively useful and benevolent. But their income was moderate, and my mother was obliged to practise the most indefatigable economy in order to ensure to her family those comforts which she thought they were entitled to enjoy, as well as to enable her to assist those whom she considered as dependent on her bounty; and at the same time to save something every year as a provision for her children. About all this I then knew or cared but little; I was insensible to the merit of her steady perseverance in these duties, and thought very lightly of the talents necessary for such management; or I thought of them, only to regret that intellectual creatures could waste so much of their existence upon such vulgar labours.

I have in latter years often wondered how my mother’s plain good sense could be so blinded by partiality, that she never even tried to conquer my absurd fancies, and, by forcing me into obedience, to teach me to be useful; indeed, it is most painful to me now to think of her generous but ill-judged forbearance.

While she was engaged in superintending her servants, or instructing my young brothers, or occupied in needle-work for us all during whole days, with scarcely the interruption of a walk, or the indulgence of a book, I was pouring over my high-flown studies; perhaps, reading Horace with one brother, or conquering mathematical difficulties with the other; or, seated under an old ilex-tree in the lawn, writing verses. Sometimes, to gratify my mother, I condescended to practise on the piano-forte; but this was one of the secondary employments which I despised; a thing for show; a silly waste of time; nothing that could benefit mankind by the developement of the human understanding.

When I was eighteen, my philosophical enthusiasm became so great, that every moment seemed lost which was not devoted to scientific pursuits. To waste that time and those powers which were given me for the noblest purposes, in the common nothings of life; to sit with my friends listening to the trifling gossip of the country, or to home-spun discussions, were sacrifices to which I would seldom submit, and I always broke away from them with undissembled scorn.

Many a lonely hour that she has passed repairing the clothes of which I disdained to take care, I might have cheered her by my company; or enlivened my father’s evenings by a little simple music, in which he delighted. But conceit and selfishness always accompany each other; and, what is more to the point, always lay the foundation of their own punishment; the very talents and pursuits which, under proper control, ornament and raise the female character, became by their abuse my incessant bane. I had the pride of human intellect; and prayed for knowledge: alas! I never prayed for wisdom, nor for humility.

I will give you an instance of my odious selfishness, because it shews how short the space is between right and wrong. I went one evening to the drawing-room in search of my brother, but he was not there. My father had a book open near him, though he was not reading; my mother was working, and both looking sad and anxious; I was quickly retiring out of the room, when my father, stretching out his hand, and drawing me gently towards him said, “Gertrude, my love, stay with us. We have had some unpleasant news to-day. Your poor mother and I are too low-spirited to amuse each other; and we want you, my dear child, to cheer us a little.”

“Yes, papa,” said I, “I will come as soon as I can,” and I hurried away.--I shall never forget his look of disappointment.--Can you believe it?--I was so callous to every good feeling that I coolly sat down to finish some mathematical question in which I had been engaged, before I condescended to return!--But you will ask--had I no principles, no sense of duty or religion to guide me?--Yes, I had principles, but they were always warped by some silly enthusiasm: I had religion, but it was that sort of highly wrought sentiment which produces no good fruits: it was very spiritual I thought, but it had little influence on my actions.

My mother was anxious to bring me more into the world; and I complained myself sometimes of the want of amusement; but I professed to despise company of all kinds: dancing was an absurd waste of life, and the stiff country dinners were tiresome. Had my vanity, indeed, been more gratified at the balls and parties to which I was taken, I should, probably, have liked them amazingly; but the truth was, the ladies thought me learned, and were afraid of me, and neither my appearance nor my conversation pleased the other sex; I therefore discovered that such occupations offered but little enjoyment to a cultivated mind.

When I arrived at the age of twenty-four, I was a strange compound of selfishness and sentiment, of folly and learning. Of every species of useful knowledge I was ignorant; to make or mend my clothes I considered degrading; and all the details of domestic economy I treated with contempt. My mother reasoned with me, but in vain; my father interfered, but it was too late; my habits were formed. My parents could not always conceal their feelings of disappointment, and I withdrew more than ever to my own ideal world of poetry and science, and to studies which, I cannot too often repeat, are praiseworthy only when kept in due subordination. My father once said to me with tears in his eyes, “The time will come, Gertrude, when you will feel your mistake,”--and it did indeed come.

Mr. P., a college friend of my brother’s, came to visit him about this time, and spent a week at our house. He was as enthusiastic as myself, ardent in science, and perfect in classical literature; he was, in a word, the most amiable and accomplished person I had ever known. Pleased with my conversation, he paid us repeated visits, and without sufficiently studying my character, he sought to win my hand. It was the most foolish thing that Mr. P. ever did!

The attentions of such a man were irresistible; he really gained my heart, and I soon consented; anticipating with delight, as I told my mother, a life devoted to him and to science. My father, however, entirely disapproved of the match, as Mr. P. had a very small fortune, and as it was too obvious that I was unfit to be a poor man’s wife. I exerted all my former influence to coax him into acquiescence; but the most I could obtain was that, instead of an absolute refusal, he insisted on our waiting for a year, that we might each have time to understand the duties and difficulties of a married life.

I had been accustomed, not merely to indulgence, but almost to deference. Gertrude’s opinion had always been consulted; her advice had always prevailed; and was she now, and in a matter of such importance, to be controlled like a child! “No, sir,” said I, “Mr. P. is _my_ choice, and I will not risk my happiness by submitting to any delay.”

My father persisted, though there was a painful struggle in his affectionate mind; and my mother tried the effect of persuasion with me, but my passionate temper would brook no restraint. At length one of my brothers became alarmed and thought it right to intercede; he mildly opened their eyes to the conviction that my determined character was their own work, and that it was now too late to retrace their steps. He pointed out to them the dislike I had excited in the neighbourhood by my contemptuous and satirical conduct to everybody; and the ill effect that the reaction of that feeling might have in still further hardening my disposition; and he endeavoured to convince them that a husband’s influence was the only chance left of withdrawing me from the follies they lamented. He then urged the family, the education, and the manners of Mr. P., who had every thing but wealth to recommend him; and earnestly implored my father to relent.

He succeeded. Mr. P. was accepted, and settlements were now to be discussed; but scorning all inquiry into the income of one whom I loved only for his merit, I indignantly exclaimed:--

Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine? Can we dig peace or wisdom from the mine?

We were married--and went home to a sweet little place which Mr. P. had on the banks of Ulleswater.--The estate was small, but had been in his family for ages; the house was a two-story building of olden times with projecting windows; it was situated in a valley which was sheltered from every cold blast, and altogether looked as if it must be a happy home.

“You are mistress of this humble place, Gertrude,” said Mr. P.; “and over my purse you have unbounded power. Your wishes are moderate, and you well know that our expenses must be limited by discretion. This property has been sufficient for my father and my ancestors; I hope you will assist me in preserving it free from debt and incumbrance for my successors. Of few things I have a greater horror than the disgrace of debt. Remember then, dearest Gertrude, that in our present situation economy becomes an essential duty.”

I considered this speech as so very devoid of sentiment, that I did not deign to reply.

In a few weeks, my mother came to visit us; in her own kind manner, she assisted me in my domestic arrangements, with as much anxiety, I thought, as if matter of life or death; and having established me with good servants, and put into my head more ideas than I had ever admitted before on the subject, she left me in a very happy state.

The summer did pass happily. Mr. P. had such a variety of tastes, and so kindly adapted them to mine; we enjoyed so much our studies at home; our mineralogical and botanical rambles; and our sketching and boating parties, that our life glided away in real felicity. As autumn and winter advanced, we spent less time out of doors, and more was given to our visiters, who remarked that now there might be some chance of seeing us comfortably. But the house was never comfortable to visiters. My dinners were ill arranged, and every thing was irregular. An old gentleman, who had been intimate with Mr. P.’s father, and who continued the warm friend and counsellor of the son, used frequently to ride over of a frosty day to dine and sleep; or sometimes called upon us for luncheon after he had been shooting. But he always came at some unfortunate time; when our dinner was shabby, or ordered at some late hour: or perhaps there was no fire to warm him after a cold ride; the unswept hearth strewed with cinders; the room all littered, no one to receive him, and when I did appear, probably my dress untidy, and a frown on my brow. He had long had the habit of speaking his mind, and very mortifying things he sometimes said, which made me hate him.

“Why, madam,” (a beginning which, from him, always shewed displeasure,) “you seem to have a fresh cargo of new books every time I come here. Let me see--Chemistry, Botany, Geology, Italian Tales, and Scotch novels. All admirable food for the mind, to be sure; but we old fashioned folk are vulgar enough to like a little comfortable food for the body, also. Economy turned upside down.”

I had determined to make our little place a paradise. The garden, which was to be brilliant at all seasons, was therefore crammed with flowers, and the most beautiful shrubs were to ornament my new walks; a simple pleasure, thought I, to which no one can object. Every week matted parcels of treasures arrived by the coach, from distant nurseries; and as Mr. P. acquiesced in all my suggestions, we planted and worked together. In thus beautifying our place, we never imagined that we could incur any great expense; besides, when the thing to be done was good, I thought it a proof of a narrow mind to consider the cost. For the same reason, I paid no attention to the weekly accounts of my housekeeper. She understands managing much better than I do, and all those little particulars, of a few pence perhaps, are really beneath my notice.

At last we were blessed by the birth of a boy, and I thought my felicity complete.

Alas! whene’er we talk of bliss, How prone we are to judge amiss!

I had sent to London for all my baby clothes, it seemed such a waste of time to work at them myself. They were beautiful, so was my boy; and so proud was I of him, that I was profuse in my generosity to all his attendants. I determined to nurse him, and to attend him night and day; and so completely was I engrossed by this new occupation, that I quite neglected Mr. P., whose inseparable companion I had been till then.

When I was so much away from him, he had more leisure to perceive the irregularity of the house. And when he went out and mixed with others, he could not help feeling the want of comfort at home. Still he could not bear to think that I was in the wrong.

In two years came another fine little boy, and with him fresh expenses. I just then began to feel that money was not always to be had; long accounts for dress, and fanciful furniture, for new books and scientific journals, for plants, shells, and mineralogical specimens, and a variety of other things equally necessary, came crowding in; and when I asked for money, there was none at command. My husband thought that I had paid for all these articles when I received them; and our ordinary expenses had already absorbed our income. With a blind confidence that almost amounted to weakness, he had trusted to my prudence, and made no inquiries into the household management: perhaps, he too had been a little inconsiderate in his farm and plantations; but far be it from me to shade my own errors by throwing blame on him.

I begged of the people whose bills I could not pay, to wait a little; and to keep them quiet I added debt to debt. But, at last, the crisis came, and these doubled and trebled debts, amounting to an enormous sum, appeared in dreadful array before Mr. P.

Then came demands from the country tradespeople who supplied our house; brewer, butcher, baker, &c.; and then, too, we discovered that the housekeeper, taking advantage of my foolish confidence, had never paid them; she had deceived me by false receipts, and had in every possible way betrayed her trust.

This shock awakened me; I understood the extent of my follies, and too late saw their consequences: I saw Mr. P. sink under the blow, and oh! Bertha, I did then, indeed, feel remorse. But, although wounded in the most sensitive of his feelings, and involved by me in what he had of all things most dreaded, he said he only reproached himself. His kindness never failed; but I saw that I had lost his respect, and that he could no longer rest his happiness on me. I became fretful and truly miserable, and a sort of reserve and mutual coldness gradually took place of that “boundless sympathy of soul” which we had till then enjoyed.

To be in debt, Mr. P. considered a state of actual disgrace, and he would have gladly sold his patrimony to emancipate himself from the load; but it was entailed. There were two other ways, either to raise money on mortgage; or, if his creditors would give him time, to devote the chief part of his income to a fund for the purpose of liquidating their full claims; and, in the mean time, to live on bread and water if necessary. He turned over in his mind also a hundred different schemes for employing his time and talents, so as to augment our means; for I could see, that though he dreaded the privations which I must endure, yet that one of his greatest difficulties was the doubt, whether I could conform to the rigorous parsimony that we were now called on to practise. Anxious for advice, he rode off to consult his old friend and counsellor Mr. Crispin, whom we had not seen for a long time; and I was rather surprised by his return the same evening, as he generally slept at the Hall, when he went there. He looked agitated, and though he treated me with more tenderness than usual, since our misfortune had burst upon him, yet he refused to tell me the result of his consultation.

In the evening, however, after a long silence he suddenly turned round to the table where I was actually endeavouring to discipline my fingers to the use of a needle, and said, “Gertrude, will you be contented to remain here in acknowledged embarrassment, shut up from the world, and endeavouring with me to save and to pay; or, will you for a time return to your father and mother? You know they will receive you with open arms; and you can there have the comforts so necessary to you and our poor little children. I really think it will be the wisest course to ask an asylum from them; for how can you adapt yourself to our present circumstances?”

“If you do not actually drive me from you, my dear Edward,” I replied, “if you will suffer me to remain with you, poignantly as I feel the reproach implied in your proposal, it will be my only consolation to share your difficulties, and to expiate my follies by a devoted economy.”

“I felt--I knew that would be your decision,” said he, as a tear stole down his cheeks. After a few days had passed, Mr. P.’s old friend came to see us; not by any means an agreeable surprise to me, for I dreaded his contempt and rebukes, and I was still but a wayward and only half-humbled creature.

“Well!” said he, entering the room, “I believe I was unreasonable in the plan I proposed; so I am come to try if we can do better. But what did you think of it, madam?”

I told him that it had not been confided to me.

“How so--did not Edward tell it you? How was that, Mr. P.?”