CHAPTER II
"Come often, then; for haply in my bower Amusement, knowledge, wisdom, thou may'st gain: If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain."--BEATTIE.
It is not so easy to do good as those who have never attempted it mayimagine; and they who without consideration follow the mere instinct ofpity, often by their imprudent generosity create evils more pernicious tosociety than any which they partially remedy. "Warm Charity, the generalfriend," may become the general enemy, unless she consults her head aswell as her heart. Whilst she pleases herself with the idea that shedaily feeds hundreds of the poor, she is perhaps preparing want andfamine for thousands. Whilst she delights herself with the anticipationof gratitude for her bounties, she is often exciting only unreasonableexpectations, inducing habits of dependence and submission to slavery.
Those who wish to do good should attend to experience, from whom they mayreceive lessons upon the largest scale that time and numbers can afford.
Madame de Fleury was aware that neither a benevolent disposition nor alarge fortune were sufficient to enable her to be of real service,without the constant exercise of her judgment. She had, therefore,listened with deference to the conversation of well-informed men uponthose subjects on which ladies have not always the means or the wish toacquire extensive and accurate knowledge. Though a Parisian belle, shehad read with attention some of those books which are generally thoughttoo dry or too deep for her sex. Consequently, her benevolence wasneither wild in theory nor precipitate nor ostentatious in practice.
Touched with compassion for a little girl whose arm had been accidentallybroken, and shocked by the discovery of the confinement and the dangersto which numbers of children in Paris were doomed, she did not make aparade of her sensibility. She did not talk of her feelings in finesentences to a circle of opulent admirers, nor did she project for therelief of the little sufferers some magnificent establishment which shecould not execute or superintend. She was contented with attempting onlywhat she had reasonable hopes of accomplishing.
The gift of education she believed to be more advantageous than the giftof money to the poor, as it ensures the means both of future subsistenceand happiness. But the application even of this incontrovertibleprinciple requires caution and judgment. To crowd numbers of childreninto a place called a school, to abandon them to the management of anyperson called a schoolmaster or a schoolmistress, is not sufficient tosecure the blessings of a good education. Madame de Fleury was sensiblethat the greatest care is necessary in the choice of the person to whomyoung children are to be entrusted; she knew that only a certain numbercan be properly directed by one superintendent, and that, by attemptingto do too much, she might do nothing, or worse than nothing. Her schoolwas formed, therefore, on a small scale, which she could enlarge to anyextent, if it should be found to succeed. From some of the families ofpoor people, who, in earning their bread, are obliged to spend most ofthe day from home, she selected twelve little girls, of whom Victoire wasthe eldest, and she was between six and seven.
The person under whose care Madame de Fleury wished to place thesechildren was a nun of the _Soeurs de la Charite_, with whose simplicityof character, benevolence, and mild, steady temper she was thoroughlyacquainted. Sister Frances was delighted with the plan. Any scheme thatpromised to be of service to her follow-creatures was sure of meetingwith her approbation; but this suited her taste peculiarly, because shewas extremely fond of children. No young person had ever boarded sixmonths at her convent without becoming attached to good Sister Frances.
The period of which we are writing was some years before convents wereabolished; but the strictness of their rules had in many instances beenconsiderably relaxed. Without much difficulty, permission was obtainedfrom the abbess for our nun to devote her time during the day to the careof these poor children, upon condition that she should regularly returnto her convent every night before evening prayers. The house whichMadame de Fleury chose for her little school was in an airy part of thetown; it did not face the street, but was separated from other buildingsat the back of a court, retired from noise and bustle. The two roomsintended for the occupation of the children were neat and clean, butperfectly simple, with whitewashed walls, furnished only with woodenstools and benches, and plain deal tables. The kitchen was well lighted(for light is essential to cleanliness), and it was provided withutensils; and for these appropriate places were allotted, to give thehabit and the taste of order. The schoolroom opened into a garden largerthan is usually seen in towns. The nun, who had been accustomed topurchase provisions for her convent, undertook to prepare daily for thechildren breakfast and dinner; they were to sup and sleep at theirrespective homes. Their parents were to take them to Sister Francesevery morning when they went out to work, and to call for them upon theirreturn home every evening. By this arrangement, the natural ties ofaffection and intimacy between the children and their parents would notbe loosened; they would be separate only at the time when their absencemust be inevitable. Madame de Fleury thought that any education whichestranges children entirely from their parents must be fundamentallyerroneous; that such a separation must tend to destroy that sense offilial affection and duty, and those principles of domesticsubordination, on which so many of the interests and much of the virtueand happiness of society depend. The parents of these poor children wereeager to trust them to her care, and they strenuously endeavoured topromote what they perceived to be entirely to their advantage. Theypromised to take their daughters to school punctually every morning--apromise which was likely to be kept, as a good breakfast was to be readyat a certain hour, and not to wait for anybody. The parents lookedforward with pleasure, also, to the idea of calling for their littlegirls at the end of their day's labour, and of taking them home to theirfamily supper. During the intermediate hours the children wereconstantly to be employed, or in exercise. It was difficult to providesuitable employments for their early age; but even the youngest of thoseadmitted could be taught to wind balls of cotton, thread, and silk forhaberdashers; or they could shell peas and beans, &c., for a neighbouring_traiteur_; or they could weed in a garden. The next in age could learnknitting and plain work, reading, writing, and arithmetic. As the girlsshould grow up, they were to be made useful in the care of the house.Sister Frances said she could teach them to wash and iron, and that shewould make them as skilful in cookery as she was herself. This last wasdoubtless a rash promise; for in most of the mysteries of the culinaryart, especially in the medical branches of it, in making savoury messespalatable to the sick, few could hope to equal the neat-handed SisterFrances. She had a variety of other accomplishments; but her humilityand good sense forbade her upon the present occasion to mention these.She said nothing of embroidery, or of painting, or of cutting out paper,or of carving in ivory, though in all these she excelled: her cuttings-out in paper were exquisite as the finest lace; her embroideredhousewives, and her painted boxes, and her fan-mounts, and her curiously-wrought ivory toys, had obtained for her the highest reputation in theconvent amongst the best judges in the world. Those only who havephilosophically studied and thoroughly understand the nature of fame andvanity can justly appreciate the self-denial or magnanimity of SisterFrances, in forbearing to enumerate or boast of these things. Shealluded to them but once, and in the slightest and most humble manner.
"These little creatures are too young for us to think of teaching themanything but plain work at present; but if hereafter any of them shouldshow a superior genius we can cultivate it properly. Heaven has beenpleased to endow me with the means--at least, our convent says so."
The actions of Sister Frances showed as much moderation as her words; forthough she was strongly tempted to adorn her new dwelling with thosespecimens of her skill which had long been the glory of her apartment inthe convent, yet she resisted the impulse, and contented herself withhanging over the chimney-piece of her schoolroom a Madonna of her ownpainting.
The day arrived when she was to rec
eive her pupils in their newhabitation. When the children entered the room for the first time, theypaid the Madonna the homage of their unfeigned admiration. Involuntarilythe little crowd stopped short at the sight of the picture. Some dormantemotions of human vanity were now awakened--played for a moment about theheart of Sister Frances--and may be forgiven. Her vanity was innocentand transient, her benevolence permanent and useful. Repressing the vain-glory of an artist, as she fixed her eyes upon the Madonna, her thoughtsrose to higher objects, and she seized this happy moment to impress uponthe minds of her young pupils their first religious ideas and feelings.There was such unaffected piety in her manner, such goodness in hercountenance, such persuasion in her voice, and simplicity in her words,that the impression she made was at once serious, pleasing, and not to beeffaced. Much depends upon the moment and the manner in which the firstnotions of religion are communicated to children; if these ideas beconnected with terror, and produced when the mind is sullen or in a stateof dejection, the future religious feelings are sometimes of a gloomy,dispiriting sort; but if the first impression be made when the heart isexpanded by hope or touched by affection, these emotions are happily andpermanently associated with religion. This should be particularlyattended to by those who undertake the instruction of the children of thepoor, who must lead a life of labour, and can seldom have leisure orinclination, when arrived at years of discretion, to re-examine theprinciples early infused into their minds. They cannot in their riperage conquer by reason those superstitions terrors, or bigoted prejudices,which render their victims miserable, or perhaps criminal. To attempt torectify any errors in the foundation after an edifice has beenconstructed is dangerous: the foundation, therefore, should be laid withcare. The religious opinions of Sister Frances were strictly united withjust rules of morality, strongly enforcing, as the essential means ofobtaining present and future happiness, the practice of the socialvirtues, so that no good or wise persons, however they might differ fromher in modes of faith, could doubt the beneficial influence of hergeneral principles, or disapprove of the manner in which they wereinculcated.
Detached from every other worldly interest, this benevolent nun devotedall her earthly thoughts to the children of whom she had undertaken thecharge. She watched over them with unceasing vigilance, whilstdiffidence of her own abilities was happily supported by her high opinionof Madame de Fleury's judgment. This lady constantly visited her pupilsevery week; not in the hasty, negligent manner in which fine ladiessometimes visit charitable institutions, imagining that the honour oftheir presence is to work miracles, and that everything will go onrightly when they have said, "_Let it be so_," or, "_I must have it so_."Madame de Fleury's visits were not of this dictatorial or cursory nature.Not minutes, but hours, she devoted to these children--she who couldcharm by the grace of her manners, and delight by the elegance of herconversation, the most polished circles and the best-informed societiesof Paris, preferred to the glory of being admired the pleasure of beinguseful:--
"Her life, as lovely as her face, Each duty mark'd with every grace; Her native sense improved by reading, Her native sweetness by good breeding."
Murad the Unlucky, and Other Tales Page 8
