Another, having kicked about a whole little gilt library, was sitting, with the decorated pages torn asunder at his feet, reading a little dirty penny book, which the kitchen-maid had bought of a hawker at the door. The Persian carpet was strewed with the broken limbs of a painted horse, almost as large as a poney, while the discontented little master was riding astride on a long rough stick. A bigger boy, after having broken the panels of a fine gilt coach, we saw afterwards in the court-yard nailing together a few dirty bits of ragged elm boards, to make himself a wheel-barrow.

"Not only the disciple of the fastidious Jean Jacques," exclaimed I, "but the sound votary of truth and reason, must triumph at such an instance of the satiety of riches, and the weariness of ignorance and idleness. One such practical instance of the insufficiency of affluence to _bestow_ the pleasures which industry must _buy_; one such actual exemplification of the folly of supposing that injudicious profusion and mistaken fondness can supply that pleasure which must be worked out before it can be enjoyed, is worth a whole folio of argument or exhortation. The ill-bred little flock paid no attention to us, and only returned a rude 'n--o' or 'ye--s' to our questions."

"Caroline," said Sir John, "these painted ruins afford a good lesson for us. We must desire our rich uncles and our generous G.o.d-mothers to make an alteration in their presents, if they can not be prevailed upon to withhold them."

"It is a sad mistake," said Mr. Stanley, "to suppose that youth wants to be so incessantly amused. They want not pleasures to be chalked out for them. Lay a few cheap and coa.r.s.e materials in their way, and let their own busy inventions be suffered to work. They have abundant pleasure in the mere freshness and novelty of life, its unbroken health, its elastic spirit, its versatile temper, and its ever new resources."

"So it appears, Stanley," said Sir John, "when I look at your little group of girls, recluses as they are called. How many cheap, yet lively pleasures do they enjoy! their successive occupations, their books, their animating exercise, their charitable rounds, their ardent friendships; the social table, at which the elder ones are companions, not mutes; the ever-varying pleasures of their garden,

"Increasing virtue, and approving heaven."

While we were sitting with Lady Aston, on whom we next called, Mr.

Stanley suddenly exclaimed, "The Misses Flam are coming up the gravel walk." Lady Aston looked vexed, but correcting herself said, "Mr.

Stanley, we owe this visit to you, or rather to your friend," bowing to me; "they saw your carriage stop here, or they would not have done so dull a thing as to have called on me."

These new guests presented a new scene, very uncongenial to the timid and tranquil spirit of the amiable hostess. There seemed to be a contest between the sisters, who should be most eloquent, most loud, or most inquisitive. They eagerly attacked me all at once, as supposing me to be overflowing with intelligence from the metropolis, a place which they not only believed to contain exclusively all that was worth seeing, but all that was worth hearing. The rest of the world they considered as a barren wilderness, of which the hungry inhabitants could only be kept from starving, by such meagre aliment as the occasional reports of its pleasures, fashions, and anecdotes, which might now and then be conveyed by some stray traveler, might furnish.

"It is so strange to us," said Miss Bell, "and so monstrously dull and vulgar, to be in the country at this time of the year, that we don't know what to do with ourselves."

"As to the time of year, madam," said I, "if ever one would wish to be in the country at all, surely this month is the point of perfection. The only immoral thing with which I could ever charge our excellent sovereign is, that he was born in June, and has thus furnished his fashionable subjects with a loyal pretense for encountering 'the sin and sea-coal of London,' to borrow Will Honeycomb's phrase, in the finest month of the twelve. But where that is the real motive with one, it is the pretense of a thousand."

"How can you be so shocking?" said she. "But papa is really grown so cross and stingy, as to prevent our going to town at all these last two or three years; and for so mean a reason that I am ashamed to tell you."

Out of politeness I did not press to know; I needed not, for she was resolved I should not 'burst in ignorance.'

She went on: "Do you know he pretends that times are hard, and public difficulties increasing; and he declares that whatever privations we endure, government must be supported: so he says it is right to draw in in the only way in which he can do it honestly; I am sure it is not doing it creditably. Did you ever hear any thing so shabby?"

"Shabby, madam," replied I; "I honor a gentleman who has integrity enough to do a right thing, and good sense enough not to be ashamed to own it."

"Yes, but papa need not. The steward declares, if he would only raise his tenants a very little, he would have more than enough; but papa is inflexible. He says my brother must do as he pleases when he comes to the estate, but that he himself promised when he came into possession, that he would never raise the rents, and that he will never be worse than his word." As I could not find in my heart to join in abusing a gentleman for resolving never to be worse than his word, I was silent.

She then inquired with more seriousness, if there were any prospect of peace. I was better pleased with this question, as it implied more anxiety for the lives of her fellow-creatures, than I had given her credit for. "I am anxiously looking into all the papers," continued she, without giving me time to speak, "because as soon as there is peace, papa has promised that we shall go to town again. If it was not for that I should not care if there was war till doomsday, for what with marching regiments, and militia, and volunteers, nothing can be pleasanter than it makes the country, I mean as far as the country _can_ be pleasant."

They then ran over the names and respective merits of every opera singer, every dancer, and every actor, with incredible volubility; and I believe they were not a little shocked at my slender acquaintance with the nomenclature, and the little interest I took in the criticisms they built upon it.

Poor Lady Aston looked oppressed and fatigued, but inwardly rejoiced, as she afterward owned to me, that her daughters were not within hearing. I was of a different opinion, upon the Spartan principle, of making their children sober, by the spectacle of the intoxicated Helots. Miss Bell's eloquence seemed to make but little impression on Sir George; or rather it produced an effect directly contrary to admiration. His good taste seemed to revolt at her flippancy. Every time I see this young man he rises in my esteem. His ingenuous temper and engaging modesty set off to advantage a very fair understanding.

In our way home, we were accosted by Mr. Flam. After a rough but hearty salutation, and a cordial invitation to come and dine with him, he galloped off, being engaged on business. "This is an honest country 'squire of the old cut," said Mr. Stanley afterward; "he has a very good estate which he has so much delight in managing, that he has no pleasure in any thing else. He was prevailed on by his father to marry his present wife for no other reason than because her estate joined to his, and broke in a little on the _arrondiss.e.m.e.nt_; but it was judged that both being united, all might be brought within a ring fence. This was thought a reason sufficiently powerful for the union of two immortal beings, whose happiness here and hereafter might be impeded or promoted by it! The felicity of the connection has been in exact proportion to the purity of the motive."

I could not forbear interrupting Mr. Stanley, by observing that nothing had surprised or hurt me more in the little observation I had made on the subject of marriage than the frequent indifference of parents to the moral, and especially to the religious character of the man who proposed himself. "That family, fortune, and connections should have their full share in the business, I readily admit," added I, "but that it should ever form the chief, often the only ground of acceptance, has, I confess, lowered mankind in my esteem more completely than almost any other instance of ambition, avarice, or worldliness. That a very young girl, who has not been carefully educated, should be captivated by personal advantages, and even infatuated by splendor, is less surprising than that parents, who having themselves experienced the insufficiency of riches to happiness, that they should be eagerly impatient to part from a beloved daughter, reared with fondness at least, if not with wisdom, to a man of whose principles they have any doubt, and of whose mind they have a mean opinion, is a thing I can not understand. And yet what proposal almost is rejected on this ground?" Lucilla's eyes at this moment shone with such expressive brightness that I exultingly said to myself, "Lord Staunton! I defy thee!"

"The mischief of this lax principle is of wide extent," replied Mr.

Stanley. "When girls are continually hearing what an advantageous, what a desirable marriage such a young friend has made, with a man so rich, so splendid, so great, though they have been accustomed to hear this very man condemned for his profligacy perhaps, at least they know him to be dest.i.tute of piety; when they hear that these things are not considered as any objection to the union, what opinion must these girls form, not only of the maxims by which the world is governed, but of the truth of that religion which those persons profess?

"But to return to Mr. Flam. He pa.s.sed through the usual course of education, but has profited so little by it, that though he has a certain natural shrewdness in his understanding, I believe he has scarcely read a book these twenty years, except Burn's 'Justice' and 'The Agricultural Reports.' Yet when he wants to make a figure, he now and then lards his discourse with a sc.r.a.p of thread-bare Latin which he used to steal in his school-boy exercises. He values himself on his integrity, and is not dest.i.tute of benevolence. These, he says, are the sum and substance of religion; and though I combat this mistaken notion as often as he puts it in my power, yet I must say that some who make more profession would do well to be as careful in these points. He often contrasts himself with his old friend Ned Tyrrel, and is proud of showing how much better a man he is without religion than Ned is with all his pretensions to it. It is by thus comparing ourselves with worse men that we grow vain, and with more fortunate men that we become discontented.

"All the concern he gives himself about his wife and daughters is, that they shall not run him in debt; and, indeed, he is so liberal that he does not drive them to the necessity. In every thing else, they follow their own devices. They teased him, however, to let them spend two or three winters in town, the mother hinting _that it would answer_. He was prevailed on to try it as a speculation, but the experiment failed. He now insists that they shall go no more, till the times mend, to any of the advertising places, such as London, Brighton, or Bath; he says that attending so many fairs and markets is very expensive, especially as the girls don't go off. He will now see what can be done by private contract at home, without the cost of journeys, with fresh keep and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g and docking into the bargain. They must now take their chance among country dealers; and provided they will give him a son-in-law, whose estate is free from inc.u.mbrances, who pays his debts, lives within his income, does not rack his tenants, never drinks claret, hates the French, and loves field sports, he will ask no more questions."

I could not but observe how preferable the father's conduct, with all its faults, was to that of the rest of the family. "I had imagined,"

said I, "that this coa.r.s.e character was quite out of print. Though it is religiously bad, and of course morally defective, yet it is so politically valuable that I should not be sorry to see a new edition of these obsolete squires, somewhat corrected, and better lettered."

"All his good qualities," said Mr. Stanley, "for want of religion have a flaw in them. His good nature is so little directed by judgment, that while it serves the individual, it injures the public. As a brother magistrate, I am obliged to act in almost constant opposition to him, and his indiscretions do more mischief by being of a nature to increase his popularity. He is fully persuaded that occasional intoxication is the best reward for habitual industry; and insists that it is good old English kindness to make the church ringers periodically tipsy at the holidays, though their families starve for it the whole week. He and I have a regular contest at the annual village fairs, because he insists that my refusing to let them begin on a Sunday is abridging their few rights, and robbing them of a day which they might add to their pleasure without injury to their profit. He allows all the strolling players, mountebanks, and jugglers to exhibit, because, he says, it is a charity.

His charity, however, is so short-sighted that he does not see that while these vagabonds are supplying the wants of the day, their improvident habits suffer them to look no further; that his own workmen are spending their hard-earned money in these illegal diversions, while the expense is the least mischief which their daughters incur."

Our next visit was to Mr. Carlton, whom I had found, in one or two previous interviews, to be a man of excellent sense, and a perfect gentleman. Sir John renewed with pleasure his acquaintance with the husband, while Lady Belfield was charmed to be introduced to the wife, with whose character she was so enamored, and whose gentle manners were calculated to confirm the affection which her little history had inspired.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Though Mr. Stanley had checked my impetuosity in my application to him, and did not encourage my addresses with a prompt.i.tude suited to the ardor of my affection: yet as the warmth of my attachment, notwithstanding I made it a duty to restrain its outward expression, could not escape either his penetration or that of his admirable wife, they began a little to relax in the strictness with which they had avoided speaking of their daughter. They never indeed introduced the subject themselves, yet it some how or other never failed to find its way into all conversation in which I was one of the interlocutors.

Sitting one day in Lucilla's bower with Mrs. Stanley, and speaking, though in general terms, on the subject nearest my heart, with a tenderness and admiration as sincere as it was fervent, I dwelt particularly on some instances which I had recently heard from Edwards, of her tender attention to the sick poor, and her zeal in often visiting them, without regard to weather, or the accommodation of a carriage.

"I a.s.sure you," said Mrs. Stanley, "you over-rate her. Lucilla is no prodigy dropped down from the clouds. Ten thousand other young women, with natural good sense, and good temper, might, with the same education, the same neglect of what is useless, and the same attention to what is necessary, acquire the same habits and the same principles.

Her being no prodigy, however, perhaps makes her example, as far as it goes, more important. She may be more useful, because she carries not that discouraging superiority, which others might be deterred from imitating, through hopelessness to reach. If she is not a miracle whom others might despair to emulate, she is a Christian whom every girl of a fair understanding and good temper may equal, and whom, I hope and believe, many girls excel."

I asked Mrs. Stanley's permission to attend the young ladies in one of their benevolent rounds. "When I have leisure to be one of the party,"

replied she, smiling, "you shall accompany us. I am afraid to trust your warm feelings. Your good-nature would perhaps lead you to commend as a merit, what in fact deserves no praise at all, the duly being so obvious, and so indispensable. I have often heard it regretted that ladies have no stated employment, no profession. It is a mistake.

_Charity is the calling of a lady; the care of the poor is her profession._ Men have little time or taste for details. Women of fortune have abundant leisure, which can in no way be so properly or so pleasantly filled up, as in making themselves intimately acquainted with the worth and the wants of all within their reach. With their wants, because it is their bounden duty to administer to them; with their worth, because without this knowledge, they can not administer prudently and appropriately."

I expressed to Mrs. Stanley the delight with which I had heard of the admirable regulations of her family, in the management of the poor, and how much their power of doing good was said to be enlarged by the judgment and discrimination with which it was done.

"We are far from thinking," replied she, "that our charity should be limited to our own immediate neighborhood. We are of opinion, that it should not be left undone anywhere, but that _there_ it should be done indispensably. We consider our own parish as our more appropriate field of action, where providence, by 'fixing the bounds of our habitation,'

seems to have made us peculiarly responsible for the comfort of those whom he has doubtless placed around us for that purpose. It is thus that the Almighty vindicates his justice, or rather calls on us to vindicate it. It is thus he explains why he admits natural evil into the world, by making the wants of one part of the community an exercise for the compa.s.sion of the other. As in different circ.u.mstances, the faults of one part of mankind are an exercise for the forbearance of the other.

"Surely," added Mrs. Stanley, "the reason is particularly obvious, why the bounty of the affluent ought to be most liberally, though not exclusively, extended to the spot whence they derive their revenues.

There seems indeed to be a double motive for it. The same act involves a duty both to G.o.d and man. The largest bounty to the necessitous on our estates, is rather justice than charity. 'Tis but a kind of pepper-corn acknowledgment to the great Lord and proprietor of all, from whom we hold them. And to a.s.sist their own laboring poor is a kind of natural debt, which persons who possess great landed property owe to those from the sweat of whose brow they derive their comforts, and even their riches. 'Tis a commutation, in which, as the advantage is greatly on our side, so is our duty to diminish the difference a paramount obligation."

I then repeated my request, that I might be allowed to take a practical lesson in the next periodical visit to the cottages.

Mrs. Stanley replied, "As to my girls, the elder ones I trust are such veterans in their trade, that your approbation can do them no harm, nor do they stand in need of it as an incentive. But should the little ones find that their charity procures them praise, they might perhaps be charitable for the sake of praise, their benevolence might be set at work by their vanity, and they might be led to do that, from the love of applause, which can only please G.o.d when the principle is pure. _The iniquity of our holy things_, my good friend, requires much Christian vigilance. Next to not giving at all, the greatest fault is to give from ostentation. The motive robs the act of the very name of virtue. While the good work that is paid in praise, is stripped of the hope of higher retribution."

On my a.s.suring Mrs. Stanley that I thought such an introduction to their systematic schemes of charity might inform my own mind and improve my habits, she consented, and I have since been a frequent witness of their admirable method; and have been studying plans, which involve the good both of body and soul. Oh! if I am ever blest with a coadjutress, a directress let me rather say, formed under such auspices, with what delight shall I transplant the principles and practices of Stanley Grove to the Priory! Nor indeed would I ever marry but with the animating hope that not only myself, but all around me, would be the better and the happier for the presiding genius I shall place there.

Sir John Belfield had joined us while we were on this topic. I had observed that though he was earnest on the general principle of benevolence, which he considered as a most imperious duty, or, as he said in his warm way, as so lively a pleasure that he was almost ready to suspect if it _were_ a duty; yet I was sorry to find that his generous mind had not viewed this large subject under all its aspects.

He had not hitherto regarded it as a matter demanding any thing but money; while time, inquiry, discrimination, system, he confessed, he had not much taken into the account. He did a great deal of good, but had not allowed himself time or thought for the best way of doing it.

Charity, as opposed to hard-heartedness and covetousness, he warmly exercised; but when, with a willing liberality, he had cleared himself from the suspicion of those detestable vices, he was indolent in the proper distribution of money, and somewhat negligent of its just application. Nor had he ever considered, as every man should do, because every man's means are limited, how the greatest quant.i.ty of good could be done with any given sum.

But the worst of all was, he had imbibed certain popular prejudices respecting the more _religious_ charities; prejudices altogether unworthy of his enlightened mind. He too much limited his ideas of bounty to bodily wants. This distinction was not with him, as it is with many, invented as an argument for saving his money, which he most willingly bestowed for feeding and clothing the necessitous. But as to the propriety of affording them religious instruction, he owned he had not made up his mind. He had some doubts whether it were a duty. Whether it were a benefit he had still stronger doubts; adding that he should begin to consider the subject more attentively than he had yet done.

Mrs. Stanley in reply, said, "I am but a poor casuist, Sir John, and I must refer you to Mr. Stanley for abler arguments than I can use. I will venture, however, to say, that even on your own ground it appears to be a pressing duty. If sin be the cause of so large a portion of the miseries of human life, must not that be the n.o.blest charity which cures, or lessens, or prevents sin? And are not they the truest benefactors even to the bodies of men, who by their religious exertions to prevent the corruption of vice, prevent also in some measure that poverty and disease which are the natural concomitants of vice? If in endeavoring to make men better, by the infusion of a religious principle, which shall check idleness, drinking, and extravagance, we put them in the way to become healthier, and richer, and happier, it will furnish a practical argument which I am sure will satisfy your benevolent heart."

CHAPTER XXVIII.