My mother was born in 1752. She was a remarkably beautiful infant, till, when she was between one and two years old, an abominable nursemaid carried her, of all places in the world, to Newgate (as was afterwards discovered); and there she took the smallpox in its most malignant form. It seemed almost miraculous that she escaped with life and eyesight, so dreadfully severe was the disease; but her eyebrows were almost destroyed, and the whole face seamed with scars. While she was a mere child, she had a paralytic affection, which deadened one side from the hip downward, and crippled her for about twelvemonths. Some person advised that she should be placed out of doors in the sunshine as much as possible; and one day, when she had been carried out as usual into the fore-court, in her little armchair, and left there to see her brothers at play, she rose from her seat to the astonishment of the family, and walked into the house. The recovery from that time was complete. The fact is worthy of notice, because some persons may derive hope from it in similar cases, and because it is by no means improbable that the sunshine really effected the cure. The manner by which I should explain this, would lead to a theory somewhat akin to that of Bishop Berkeley upon the virtues of tar-water.
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There are two portraits of my mother, both taken by Robert Hancock in 1798. My brother Tom has the one; the other hangs opposite me where I am now seated in my usual position at my desk. Neither of these would convey to a stranger a just idea of her countenance. That in my possession is very much the best: it represents her as she then was, with features care-worn and fallen away, and with an air of melancholy which was not natural to her; for never was any human being blest with a sweeter temper, or a happier disposition. She had an excellent understanding, and a readiness of apprehension, which I have rarely known surpassed. In quickness of capacity, in the kindness of her nature, and in that kind of moral magnetism which wins the affections of all within its sphere, I never knew her equal. To strangers she must probably have appeared much disfigured by the smallpox. I, of course, could not be sensible of this. Her complexion was very good, and nothing could be more expressive than her fine clear hazel eyes.
Female education was not much regarded in her childhood.
The ladies who kept boarding-schools in those days did not consider it
necessary to possess any other knowledge themselves than that of ornamental
needlework. Two sisters, who had been mistresses of the most fashionable school
in Herefordshire, fifty years ago, used to say when they spoke of a former
pupil, “Her went to school to we:” and the mistress of which, some ten years later,
was thought the best school near Bristol (where Mrs. Siddons sent her daughter), spoke, to my perfect
OF ROBERT SOUTHEY. | 21 |
Two things concerning my mother’s childhood and youth
may be worthy of mention. One is, that she had for a fellow-scholar at the
dancing-school Mary Darby (I think her
name was), then in her beauty and innocence, soon afterwards notorious as the
Prince of
Wales’s Perdita, and to be
remembered
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My grandmother continued to live in the house at
Bedminster, which her husband had built, and which after his death had been
purchased by Edward Tyler. It was about half an
hour’s walk, εύζώνω άνδρί, from Bristol; and my
father, having been introduced there, became in process of time a regular
Sabbath guest. How long he had been acquainted with the family before he
thought of connecting himself with it, I do not know; but in the year 1772,
being the 27th of his own age, and the 20th of my mother’s, they were
married at Bedminster church. He had previously left
Britton’s service, and opened a shop for himself
in the same business and in the same street, three doors above. Cannon Southey had left him 100l.; my mother had a legacy of 50l. from her uncle Bradford; my
father formed a partnership with his
younger brother Thomas, who had such
another bequest as his from the same quarter; perhaps also he might have saved
something during his years of service, and the business may have begun with a
capital of 500l.; I should think not more. Shop
OF ROBERT SOUTHEY. | 23 |
The first child of this marriage was born August 1. 1773, and christened John Cannon. He lived only to be nine or ten months old. He was singularly beautiful; so much so, that, when I made my appearance on the 12th of August, 1774*, I was sadly dis-
* My birth-day was Friday the 12th of August, 1774,—the time of my birth half-past eight in the morning, according to the family Bible. According to my astrological friend Gilbert, it was a few minutes before the half hour, in consequence of which I am to have a pain in my bowels when I am about thirty, and Jupiter is my deadly antagonist; but I may thank the stars for “a gloomy capability of walking through desolation.”—Letter to Grosvenor C. Bedford, Esq., Sept. 30. 1797. |
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