This I positively refused to part with: the interest of it
was barely sufficient for my wants; I asked no more, but I expostulated
and I reasoned with him in vain. He only begged me for five hundred
pounds; if I sold the money out, he would tell me where I might have as
good interest for the fifteen hundred pounds as I now received for the
two thousand pounds. He begged and entreated me, he kissed, and he even
wept. I could not withstand his importunities: I sold out the money, and
gave him the sum he wanted; the fifteen hundred pounds I put by in my
desk, to invest as he had pointed out. That very night he forced the
lock, took out the money, and left me without a sixpence in the world."
"What a villain!" exclaimed I.
"Yes, you may so. Jack; but who made him such a villain but his foolish
doting mother? Had I done him justice, had I checked him when young, had
I brought him up as I ought to have done, he might now have been a
happiness and a blessing to his mother. I was the person to blame, not
he; and many years of anguish have I lamented my folly and my
wretchedness."
"You loved him too much, mother, but it was a fault on the right side."
"No, Jack, that is an error of yours; it was a fault on the wrong side.
There is no credit to a mother in loving her children, for she cannot
help it. It is a natural instinct implanted in the mother's heart by the
Almighty, and in following this instinct we do no more than the beasts
of the field. The duty of a mother is to check that feeling as far as it
interferes with the happiness and well-doing of her children, and it is
her duty to do so, and to punish herself in correcting her children.
Jack, it is a selfish feeling which induces mothers to spoil their
children."
"At all events my mother has never spoiled me," replied I.
"No, Jack, she has not; but observe the consequence. You said just now
that excessive tenderness was a fault on the right side; now, how
completely have you proved the contrary! I do not intend to defend your
mother's conduct toward you; she has been unkind to you in your
childhood, and has never shown the affection that a mother ought; but is
not her fault a fault on the right side? Jack, you recollect my saying
'what a difference,' when you told me what you had done for your mother;
I then referred to my son and to you. I indulged him in everything,
sacrificed everything, and he robbed me and left me a beggar. Your
mother has been severe upon you, and yet the first time you have the
means of showing your duty you give her all the money you have in the
world. You mother may not be right, Jack, but I was dreadfully wrong,
and the result has proved it."
"Well, mother, go on, pray."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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