Memoirs of James Hardy Vaux/Volume 1/Preface
PREFACE.
BEFORE I commence this narrative of a life marked with more than common vicissitudes I beg to bespeak the reader's attention to a few cursory remarks. I must first promise that I have undertaken the task, in obedience to the commands of a gentleman, who is pleased to anticipate a sufficient fund of entertainment in the perusal, to compensate for the honour he confers in noticing an outcast of Fortune like myself; who, partly from my own vicious conduct, and partly (perhaps,) from the malignity of my fate, have forfeited all hope of attaining that respectable rank in society, to which, in the happy days of youthful innocence, I had every reason to look forward with confidence.
But now, alas! although I have too late seen my errors, and my intentions are strictly virtuous, I have nothing to expect, but to continue through the remainder of this transitory life, such as I am at the present moment,—an unhappy exile, for ever banished from my country and relations, and rendered incapable of making the smallest reparation to the community I have injured, by the exercise of those talents which nature has bestowed, and the best of friends have so liberally cultivated. Nor do I fear being accused of vanity, in asserting, that they are above mediocrity, since it is not to myself I am indebted for them; and the greater infamy attaches to me for their perversion,—for where much is given much is required.
To return to the remark I set out with: these sheets not being intended at first for the press, or to meet the public eye, I have not laboured their composition. Indeed, the work being executed in haste, and under many local disadvantages, I have had little time for study, and can only boast of a scrupulous attention to truth, to which I have been enjoined by my employer.
Where my conduct has been such as I now blush at, I have "nothing extenuated;" nor have I, on the other hand, used the smallest embellishments to advance myself in the good opinion of my readers. With me, in all human probability, the die is cast; and as the prejudices of those persons, who alone can extricate me from misery, are not likely to be removed by any professions of amendment I can make, my only hopes of happiness are centred in a better world, where we are instructed that there is much joy over one single repentant sinner.
Newcastle, New South Wales,
17th September, 1815.