1839] My Mother's Character 45 



not meeting a child, was the nursery. Many a time, even 

 during rny father's working hours, was a sick child tucked 

 up on his sofa, to be quiet, and safe, and soothed by his 

 presence. 



My mother had ten children and suffered much from ill- 

 health and discomforts during those years. Many of her 

 children were delicate and difficult to rear, and three died. 

 My father was often seriously ill and always suffering, so 

 that her life was full of care, anxiety, and hard work. But 

 she was supported by her perfect union with him, and by 

 the sense that she made every minute of every weary hour 

 more bearable to him. And though her life could not but 

 be anxious and laborious, I think it will be seen by her 

 letters that it was happy as well as blessed. 



I give here, at the outset of her married life, the best 

 picture I have been able to draw of her character. It 

 must, however, be kept in mind that I am thinking of a 

 much later time, as my memories of her are naturally more 

 vivid in her later-middle and old age. 



These old letters speak of her as gay and merry, and I 

 have been told by old friends of hers that she had the 

 charm of abounding life and high spirits. When I re- 

 member her as she was in my childhood, it is as serene but 

 somewhat grave. The jokes and the merriment would all 

 come from my father. One can realise how heavy was the 

 burden of anxiety borne by her so calmly, from seeing what 

 deep effect it produced on her character. 



Her charm is difficult to describe, but all who knew her 

 well, felt its power. Acquaintances at first sometimes 

 strangely misunderstood what she was, and felt awed, 

 before she spoke, by a certain reserved gravity in her ex- 

 pression. Of one thing I am sure, that she was naturally 

 good. I mean that I have known those who impress one as 

 having conquered their evil tendencies, but with her there 

 seemed no evil to conquer. Therefore, though she was the 

 most unselfish person I have ever known, there was no 

 trace in her character of the self -suppression which is often 

 found in those who have had to struggle for unselfishness. 

 Her tastes, her dislikes, her whims even, were all vivid and 

 vividly expressed, and her unselfishness did not proceed 

 from any want of a strong personality. Everything about 

 her was wholesome and natural; and it was impossible to 

 imagine her having an unkind or vain thought, nor can I 

 ever remember her making a harsh judgment. 



Complicated characters, with a certain introspective self- 



