Augustus Carp, Esq., by Himself: Being the Autobiography of a Really Good ManBashford, H. H. (Henry Howarth), Sir
General
Augustus Carp, Esq., by Himself: Being the Autobiography of a Really Good Man
Bashford, H. H. (Henry Howarth), Sir
English fiction -- 20th century; Humorous stories; Satire
Regarding me thus, from the very first, as a sacred trust committed to
their charge, this is but a small example of the immense and unremitting
care with which my parents undertook me. But it will at least suffice to
show that they had not underrated the high task to which they had been
called. To my father especially, as the months slipped all too quickly
by, I became inexpressibly dear; and it was for that reason among others
that I escaped the torments of vaccination. Though Jonathan and
Cornwall’s _Dictionary of Home Medicine_ advocated this operation on
historical grounds, my father had an instinctive, but none the less
well-reasoned, horror of the knife. Himself the subject of frequent
boils, he would never permit these to be lanced, invariably giving
orders that they should be poulticed until Nature herself brought about
their evacuation. Nor can I say that, in my own case, he has been other
than completely justified. It is true that I have suffered, and still do
suffer, apart from the indigestion previously referred to, from several
forms of neurasthenia, a marked tendency to eczema, occipital headaches,
sour eructations, and flatulent distension of the abdomen. But from
smallpox, although entirely unvaccinated, I have always remained
singularly immune.
A similar prescience, too, sufficed to protect me from the anguish and
indignity of personal chastisement. For although in principle my father
was an ardent supporter of this, and indeed had administered it to
several of his relatives’ children, he had never required it, he said,
in his own case, and did not propose to have it inflicted on me. And it
was the abrogation of this rule, although not until my seventh year, by
the son of a powerful Hibernian charwoman that first revealed to me, in
a never-to-be-forgotten flash, some of the profoundest depths of human
iniquity.
It was soon after my sixth birthday that my father was first compelled
to employ a charwoman, owing to an attack of unconsciousness on the part
of my mother. For several months she had been complaining of
breathlessness, incident upon certain of her domestic duties, such as
floor-scrubbing, home laundry-work, cleaning the front steps, and
polishing the boots and shoes. With his usual consideration my father
had instantly remitted various other tasks proper to her position, such
as the baking of bread twice a week, and the knitting of the family
socks and stockings; and he had further excused her from my own daily
tuition in both Latin and arithmetic. Involving, as these subjects did,
considerable previous preparation, this was of course a sensible relief,
obtained though it was at some hazard to my own intellectual future. But
despite all these concessions, she continued to be unwell, and finally,
as I have said, lapsed into unconsciousness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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