"WHY WAS I BORN?"
As earth's pageant passes by,
Let reflection turn thine eye
Inward, and observe thy breast;
There alone dwells solid rest.
That's a close immured tower
Which can mock all hostile power;
To thyself a tenant be
And inhabit safe and free.
Say not that the house is small
Girt up in a narrow wall
The infinite Creator can
Dwell there—and may not man?
There content make thine abode
With thyself and with thy God.
I HAVE no distinct recollection of my birth, although I believe I was a prominent actor in the performance. The very first thing, or rather, circumstance that I remember, was the birth of my sister, when I was two years and five months old. Old Nanny Holland, who did duty as midwife, nurse and housekeeper, used to allow me to go out and play with the water and dabble in the mud; then she would call me in and smack me well and call me bad names, and shut me under the stairs until my pinafore was dry. I can quite well remember crying and asking myself, "Why was I born?" especially as old Nanny paid greater attention to me in this respect, than to any of my older brothers. Then, as I grew older, there was my father who thoroughly believed that the stick was a cure for all complaints, and acting upon King Solomon's advice, never spared the rod. On these occasions, I always asked myself the question, "Why was I born?"
As soon as old Nanny had gone out of the house, I asked my mother if it was likely that old Nanny would bring another baby next week; and when my kind and loving mother stroked my hair, and smiled and said "No," I was very soon out in the lane making bricks and building houses with mud. My mother did not smack me for this as old Nanny had done, but she would call me and speak to me about making myself dirty, and somehow, whenever she spoke she was always obeyed. She used to have me by her knee and teach me Dr. Watts's hymns. I have lived to hear those hymns scoffed at, but I still think they might do good to some young people. Now at the age of fifty I take great delight in the study of science and astronomy. Who shall say that my dear good mother did not lay the foundation stone, and set my young mind thinking of the wonderful works of God, by teaching me—
I sing the almighty power of God
That made the mountains rise,
That spread the flowing seas abroad
And built the lofty skies.
I sing the wisdom that ordained
The sun to rule the day.
The moon shines full at His command
And all the stars obey.
This hymn, and other precepts taught by my gentle mother, sank deep into my mind, and set me thinking and pondering over the works of God, and led me to ask all sorts of questions, and I might say that I received all sorts of answers, which made me still more inquisitive, until my father would tell me to hold my tongue. I do not wish it to be understood that my father was a wrong-headed man, far from it; for I am sure that he possessed some of the finest qualities that adorn human nature. He possessed, in the very highest degree, the qualities of truth, justice, honour, and honesty of purpose; he considered it an exceedingly bad practice to owe anything to anybody, so he rose very early in the morning and took rest late that he might maintain his children, in what he termed "poor independence." Moreover, he being the parish clerk and Sunday school master—there was no week-day school—he had a very high veneration for the Church. He was also choir master and organist. Therefore he was a power in the village, and used his stick accordingly. Woe to any bellringer who thoughtlessly entered the door of the church, without removing his hat from his head. "How dare you," he would say, "enter the sanctuary of the Lord in that heathenish manner?" and the men I know very highly respected him, and obeyed his orders without a murmur. He would never allow cider, which was the drink of the country, to be brought inside the church gate; it was consecrated ground and was not to be defiled.
He was like Job in one thing, he was the father of seven sons and three daughters.
The state of England at that time was very bad indeed, and the poor were really oppressed, especially in our remote part of the country. Well, my father had enough to do to make both ends meet, and how he and my mother slaved and toiled to keep out of debt! My brothers and myself were sent to work at a very early age, at whatever we could get, and at this period, when the oppression was so great, I was always asking myself, "Why was I born?"
In the year 1829, when I was four years of age, my father and mother had not heard of Dr. Jenner, and his plan of vaccination. If they had they would have surely fallen in with the idea, and would have acted upon it. It was the custom in those days that whenever small-pox made its appearance in the village, the mother of a family would take one of her children to the infected house, and place her healthy child in the bed of the person who had the malady. This was done so that the infection should not come upon her family unawares, but that she might be somewhat in a position to receive it, and with a little judicious management, generally to keep the disease under subjection; that is to say, she could generally manage so that only one of her children should be down with the small-pox at one time. Whereas, if she allowed the infection to come upon her in its natural course, probably all her children would be down at once with the disease.
Now there was a boy who was said to be dying of small-pox, and whether it was ignorance, or superstition, or a combination of both, I do not know, but it was considered best, to let your children catch the small-pox from those who were suffering most violently. Accordingly I was taken to the house where the boy lay dying, and there I was partly undressed and placed in the cradle by the side of the boy, and I was to stay there until I got warm and comfortable. As far as my own thoughts went in the matter I thought it very good fun, especially as when I was ill I should be out of the way of the stick at any rate. But while I was thinking over these matters, who should stalk into the room but old Nanny Holland. Nanny was a sort of oracle in the village, besides being a kind of quack doctor, and what with her superior cunning, and evil temper, always excited more or less with gin, she held most of the poor women under her thumb, and when she approached the cradle where we were lying, I thought she looked more evil than usual. She looked at the cradle, then at the boy's mother, and said, "Why don't you let the cheil (child) die? He can't die shut up in an infernal crile like this." And thereupon she dragged me out, and put me down, by no means lightly, upon the floor; she then tore away the foot of the cradle, so that the boy's feet could extend further down, and he was a corpse directly.
It appears from Nanny's theory, that although the child was in the agony of death, and with the last pang upon him, yet the vital spark could not part from him, until his crib was lengthened sufficiently to allow his feet to stretch downward without hindrance. I have sometimes thought that perhaps old Nanny was more than half right in her theory.
Now, I cannot tell whether the virus of the boy's small-pox was too far spent, or whether I was an extraordinarily healthy subject, or whether perhaps old Nanny frightened me, but certain it is, I did not catch the small-pox. Therefore there was but one alternative, and that was, that I must be inoculated, or, as the villagers expressed, it "knockle-headed." As soon as I discovered this I really began to quake with fear, and to wonder why I was born. Not that I feared the operation itself, as I had seen it performed on others, but I dreadfully feared the doctor who would perform upon me. I had not long to wait before my suspicions and fears were brought to a climax, for my mother took me off to Nanny Holland.
Nanny soon began to see about "knockle-heading" the children, and when she turned to me first, and I saw her coming towards me, with her surgical knife, my hair stood on end with fright. Where she obtained the virus from I do not know, but she clawed hold of my arm, and stabbed a stocking needle through the skin, and lifting the skin upwards at the same time with a razor in her hand, cut a piece, about the size of a threepenny bit, three parts off, a bit of the skin being left in the way of a hinge; then with the point of an old knife, she plastered some matter into the wound, just as you might see a painter stopping a hole in a board with putty; then she replaced the slice of skin with the following caution, "Now, youngster, if you scratch that off, I'll kill thee." My little sister was put through the same process, and Louisa Gard, a little chubby happy cherub of about four years of age, and a constant playmate of ours, was also operated upon.
In due course old Nanny's "matter" began to work. My sister was very ill with small-pox, and so also was little Louisa. As for myself, I had it very slightly, in fact no one but my mother knew that I had the malady upon me. My sister got well in time, but of course the small-pox left its marks severely upon her. Poor little Louisa never rallied; or if she got over the small-pox, she had croup, which was too much for her, and she crossed over into the Land of Beulah.
Louisa and my sister and myself had attended the Sunday school, for there was no week-day school. I asked mother if Louisa would come back, and she said "No, but if you are a good boy, you will someday go where she is gone." Then I would go out and look up at the stars, and wonder if I should see Louisa flitting about from star to star, but my mother said, "No, you will not see her there, but you will meet her again at the last day; and if you grow up to be a good man, you will hear the Great Judge say, 'Come, ye blessed of my Father, and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you, from the foundation of the world.'" This and other passages of Scripture my mother taught me before I was really able to pronounce the words after her. All this was my religious instruction, besides what I learnt in the Sunday school.