by Edith Howes
I brought you to this place on purpose this evening, said Mrs. Mason tothe children, who clung about her, to tell you the history of the lastinhabitant; but, as this part is unwholesome, we will sit on the brokenstones of the drawbridge.
Charles Townley was a boy of uncommon abilities, and strong feelings; buthe ever permitted those feelings to direct his conduct, withoutsubmitting to the direction of reason; I mean, the present emotiongoverned him.—He had not any strength or consistency of character; onemoment he enjoyed a pleasure, and the next felt the pangs of remorse, onaccount of some duty which he had neglected. He always indeed intendedto act right in every particular _to-morrow_; but _to-day_ he followedthe prevailing whim.
He heard by chance of a man in great distress, he determined to relievehim, and left his house in order to follow the humane impulse; butmeeting an acquaintance, he was persuaded to go to the play, and_to-morrow_, he thought, he would do the act of charity. The nextmorning some company came to breakfast with him, and took him with themto view some fine pictures. In the evening he went to a concert; the dayfollowing he was tired, and laid in bed till noon; then read a patheticstory, well wrought up, _wept_ over it—fell asleep—and forgot to _act_humanely. An accident reminded him of his intention, he sent to the man,and found that he had too long delayed—the relief was useless.
In this thoughtless manner he spent his time and fortune; never applyingto any profession, though formed to shine in any one he should havechosen. His friends were offended, and at last allowed him to languishin a gaol; and as there appeared no probability of reforming or fixinghim, they left him to struggle with adversity.
Severely did he reproach himself—He was almost lost in despair, when afriend visited him. This friend loved the latent sparks of virtue whichhe imagined would some time or other light up, and animate his conduct.He paid his debts, and gave him a sum of money sufficient to enable himto prepare for a voyage to the East Indies, where Charles wished to go,to try to regain his lost fortune. Through the intercession of thiskind, considerate friend, his relations were reconciled to him, and hisspirits raised.
He sailed with a fair wind, and fortune favouring his most romanticwishes, in the space of fifteen years, he acquired a much larger fortunethan he had even hoped for, and thought of visiting, nay, settling in hisnative country for the remainder of his life.
Though impressed by the most lively sense of gratitude, he had droppedhis friend’s correspondence; yet, as he knew that he had a daughter, hisfirst determination was to reserve for her the greater part of hisproperty, as the most substantial proof which he could give of hisgratitude.—The thought pleased him, and that was sufficient to divert himfor some months; but accidentally hearing that his friend had been veryunsuccessful in trade, this information made him wish to hasten hisreturn to his native country. Still a procrastinating spirit possessedhim, and he delayed from time to time the arduous task of settling hisaffairs, previous to his departure: he wrote, however, to England, andtransmitted a considerable sum to a correspondent, desiring that thishouse might be prepared for him, and the mortgage cleared.
I can scarcely enumerate the various delays that prevented his embarking;and when he arrived in England, he came here, and was so childishly eagerto have his house fitted up with taste, that he actually trifled away amonth, before he went to seek for his friend.
But his negligence was now severely punished. He learned that he hadbeen reduced to great distress, and thrown into the very gaol, out ofwhich he took Townley, who, hastening to it, only found his dead bodythere; for he died the day before. On the table was lying, amidst someother scraps of paper, a letter, directed in an unsteady hand to CharlesTownley. He tore it open. Few were the scarcely legible lines; but theysmote his heart. He read as follows:—
‘I have been reduced by unforeseen misfortunes; yet when I heard of yourarrival, a gleam of joy cheered my heart—_I thought I knew your’s_, andthat my latter days might still have been made comfortable in yoursociety, for I loved you; I even expected pleasure; but I was mistaken;death is my only friend.’
He read it over and over again; and cried out, Gracious God, had Iarrived but one day sooner I should have seen him, and he would not havedied thinking me the most ungrateful wretch that ever burdened the earth!He then knocked his clinched fist against his forehead, looked wildlyround the dreary apartment, and exclaimed in a choked, though impatienttone, You sat here yesterday, thinking of my ingratitude—Where are younow! Oh! that I had seen you! Oh! that my repenting sighs could reachyou!—
He ordered the body to be interred, and returned home a prey to grief anddespondency. Indulging it to excess, he neglected to enquire after hisfriend’s daughter; he intended to provide amply for her, but now he couldonly grieve.
Some time elapsed, then he sent, and the intelligence which he procuredaggravated his distress, and gave it a severe additional sting.
The poor gentle girl had, during her father’s life, been engaged to aworthy young man; but, some time after his death, the relations of herlover had sent him to sea to prevent the match taking place. She washelpless, and had not sufficient courage to combat with poverty; toescape from it, she married an old rake whom she detested. He wasill-humoured, and his vicious habits rendered him a most dreadfulcompanion. She tried in vain to please him, and banish the sorrow thatbent her down, and made wealth and all the pleasures it could procuretasteless. Her tender father was dead—she had lost her lover—without afriend or confident, silent grief consumed her. I have told youfriendship is only to be found amongst the virtuous; her husband wasvicious.
Ah! why did she marry, said Mary?
Because she was timid; but I have not told you all; the grief that didnot break her heart, disturbed her reason; and her husband confined herin a madhouse.
Charles heard of this last circumstance; he visited her. Fanny, said he,do you recollect your old friend? Fanny looked at him, and reason for amoment resumed her seat, and informed her countenance to trace anguish onit—the trembling light soon disappeared—wild fancy flushed in her eyes,and animated her incessant rant. She sung several verses of differentsongs, talked of her husband’s ill-usage—enquired if he had lately beento sea? And frequently addressed her father as if he were behind herchair, or sitting by her.
Charles could not bear this scene—If I could lose like her a sense ofwoe, he cried, this intolerable anguish would not tear my heart! Thefortune which he had intended for her could not restore her reason; but,had he sent for her soon after her father’s death, he might have savedher and comforted himself.
The last stroke was worse than the first; he retired to this abode;melancholy creeping on him, he let his beard grow, and the garden runwild. One room in the house the poor lunatic inhabited; and he had aproper person to attend her, and guard her from the dangers she wished toencounter. Every day he visited her, the sight of her would almost haveunhinged a sound mind—How could he bear it, when his consciencereproached him, and whispered that he had neglected to do good, to liveto any rational purpose—The sweets of friendship were denied, and heevery day contemplated the saddest of all sights—the wreck of a humanunderstanding.
He died without a will. The estate was litigated, and as the title tothis part could not be proved, the house was let fall into its presentstate.
[Picture: Be calm, my child]
But the night will overtake us, we must make haste home—Give me yourhand, Mary, you tremble; surely I need not desire you to remember thisstory—Be calm, my child, and remember that you must attend to trifles; doall the good you can the present day, nay hour, if you would keep yourconscience clear. This circumspection may not produce dazzling actions,nor will your silent virtue be supported by human applause; but yourFather, who seeth in secret, will reward you.
CHAPTER XI
Dress.—A Character.—Remarks on Mrs. Trueman’s Manner ofdressing.—Trifling Omissions undermine Affection.
Mary’s procra
stinating temper produced many other ill consequences; shewould lie in bed till the last moment, and then appear without washingher face or cleaning her teeth. Mrs. Mason had often observed it, andhinted her dislike; but, unwilling to burden her with precepts, shewaited for a glaring example. One was soon accidentally thrown in herway, and she determined that it should not pass unobserved.
A lady, who was remarkable for her negligence in this respect, spent aweek with them; and, during that time, very frequently disconcerted theeconomy of the family. She was seldom fit to be seen, and if any companycame by chance to dinner, she would make them wait till it was quitecold, whilst she huddled on some ill-chosen finery. In the same style,if a little party of pleasure was proposed, she had to dress herself, andthe hurry discomposed her, and tired those, who did not like to lose timein anticipating a trifling amusement.
A few hours after she had left them, Mrs. Mason enquired of Mary, whateffect this week’s experience had had on her mind? You are fond ofridicule, child, but seldom in the right place; real cause for it you letslip, and heed not the silent reproof that points at your own faults: donot mistake me, I would not have you laugh at—yet I wish you to feel,what is ridiculous, and learn to distinguish folly. Mrs. Dowdy’snegligence arises from indolence; her mind is not employed about mattersof importance; and, if it were, it would not be a sufficient excuse forher habitually neglecting an essential part of a man’s as well as awoman’s duty. I said habitually; grief will often make those careless,who, at other times, pay a proper attention to their person; and thisneglect is a sure indication that the canker-worm is at work; and weought to pity, rather than blame the unfortunate. Indeed when painfulactivity of mind occasions this inattention, it will not last long; thesoul struggles to free itself, and return to its usual tone and oldhabits. The lady we have been speaking of, ever appears a sloven, thoughshe is sometimes a disgusting figure, and, at others, a very taudryflirt.
I continually caution Caroline not to spend much time in adorning herperson; but I never desired you to neglect yours. Wisdom consists inavoiding extremes—immoderate fondness for dress, I term vanity; but aproper attention to avoid singularity does not deserve that name. Neverwaste much time about trifles; but the time that is necessary, employproperly. Exercise your understanding, taste flows from it, and will ina moment direct you, if you are not too solicitous to conform to thechanging fashions; and loiter away in laborious idleness the preciousmoments when the imagination is most lively, and should be allowed to fixvirtuous affections in the tender youthful heart.
Of all the women whom I have ever met with, Mrs. Trueman seems the freestfrom vanity, and those frivolous views which degrade the femalecharacter. Her virtues claim respect, and the practice of them engrossesher thoughts; yet her clothes are apparently well chosen, and you alwayssee her in the same attire. Not like many women who are eager to set offtheir persons to the best advantage, when they are only going to take awalk, and are careless, nay slovenly, when forced to stay at home. Mrs.Trueman’s conduct is just the reverse, she tries to avoid singularity,for she does not wish to disgust the generality; but it is her family,her friends, whom she studies to please.
In dress it is not little minute things, but the whole that should beattended to, and that every day; and this attention gives an ease to theperson because the clothes appear unstudily graceful. Never, continuedMrs. Mason, desire to excel in trifles, if you do—there is an end tovirtuous emulation, the mind cannot attend to both; for when the mainpursuit is trivial, the character will of course become insignificant.Habitual neatness is laudable; but, if you wish to be reckoned a well, anelegantly dressed girl; and feel that praise on account of it gives youpleasure, you are vain; and a laudable ambition cannot dwell with vanity.
Servants, and those women whose minds have had a very limited range,place all their happiness in ornaments, and frequently neglect the onlyessential part in dress,—neatness.
I have not the least objection to your dressing according to your age; Irather encourage it, by allowing you to wear the gayest colours; yet Iinsist on some degree of uniformity: and think you treat medisrespectfully when you appear before me, and have forgotten to do, whatshould never be neglected, and what you could have done in less than aquarter of an hour.
I always dress myself before breakfast, and expect you to follow myexample, if there is not a sufficient, and obvious excuse. You, Mary,missed a pleasant airing yesterday; for if you had not forgotten therespect which is due to me, and hurried down to breakfast in a slovenlymanner, I should have taken you out with me; but I did not choose to waittill you were ready, as your not being so was entirely your own fault.
Fathers, and men in general, complain of this inattention; they havealways to wait for females. Learn to avoid this fault, howeverinsignificant it may appear in your eyes, for that habit cannot be oflittle consequence that sometimes weakens esteem. When we frequentlymake allowance for another in trifling matters, notions of inferioritytake root in the mind, and too often produce contempt. Respect for theunderstanding must be the basis of constancy; the tenderness which flowsfrom pity is liable to perish insensibly, to consume itself—even thevirtues of the heart, when they degenerate into weakness, sink acharacter in our estimation. Besides, a kind of gross familiarity, takesplace of decent affection; and the respect which alone can renderdomestic intimacy a lasting comfort is lost before we are aware of it.
CHAPTER XII
Behaviour to Servants.—True Dignity of Character.
The children not coming down to breakfast one morning at the usual time,Mrs. Mason went herself to enquire the reason; and as she entered theapartment, heard Mary say to the maid who assisted her, I wonder at yourimpertinence, to talk thus to me—do you know who you are speaking to?—shewas going on; but Mrs. Mason interrupted her, and answered thequestion—to a little girl, who is only assisted because she is weak.Mary shrunk back abashed, and Mrs. Mason continued, as you have treatedBetty, who is ten years older than yourself, improperly, you must now doevery thing for yourself; and, as you will be some time about it,Caroline and I will eat our breakfast, and visit Mrs. Trueman. By thetime we return, you may perhaps have recollected that children areinferior to servants—who act from the dictates of reason, and whoseunderstandings are arrived at some degree of maturity, while childrenmust be governed and directed till _their’s_ gains strength to work byitself: for it is the proper exercise of our reason that makes us in anydegree independent.
When Mrs. Mason returned, she mildly addressed Mary. I have often toldyou that every dispensation of Providence tended to our improvement, ifwe do not perversely act contrary to our interest. One being is madedependent on another, that love and forbearance may soften the humanheart, and that linked together by necessity, and the exercise of thesocial affections, the whole family on earth might have a fellow feelingfor each other. By these means we improve one another; but there is noreal inferiority.
You have read the fable of the head supposing itself superior to the restof the members, though all are equally necessary to the support of life.If I behave improperly to servants, I am really their inferior, as Iabuse a trust, and imitate not the Being, whose servant I am, without ashadow of equality. Children are helpless. I order my servants to waiton you, because you are so; but I have not as much respect for you as forthem; you may possibly become a virtuous character.—Many of my servantsare really so already; they have done their duty, filled an humblestation, as they ought to fill it, conscientiously. And do you dare todespise those whom your Creator approves?
Before the greatest earthly beings I should not be awed, they are myfellow servants; and, though superior in rank, which, like personalbeauty, only dazzles the vulgar; yet I may possess more knowledge andvirtue. The same feeling actuates me when I am in company with the poor;we are creatures of the same nature, and I may be their inferiour inthose graces which should adorn my soul, and render me truly great.
How often must I repeat to you, that a child
is inferiour to a man;because reason is in its infancy, and it is reason which exalts a manabove a brute; and the cultivation of it raises the wise man above theignorant; for wisdom is only another name for virtue.
This morning, when I entered your apartment, I heard you insult a worthyservant. You had just said your prayers; but they must have been onlythe gabble of the tongue; your heart was not engaged in the sacredemployment, or you could not so soon have forgotten that you were a weak,dependent being, and that you were to receive mercy and kindness only onthe condition of your practising the same.
I advise you to ask Betty to pardon your impertinence; till you do so,she shall not assist you; you would find yourself very helpless withoutthe assistance of men and women—unable to cook your meat, bake yourbread, wash your clothes, or even put them on—such a helpless creature isa child—I know what you are, you perceive.
Mary submitted—and in future after she said her prayers, remembered thatshe was to endeavour to curb her temper.
CHAPTER XIII
Employment.—Idleness produces Misery.—The Cultivation of the Fancy raisesus above the Vulgar, extends our Happiness, and leads to Virtue.
One afternoon, Mrs. Mason gave the children leave to amuse themselves;but a kind of listlessness hung over them, and at a loss what to do, theyseemed fatigued with doing nothing. They eat cakes though they had justdined, and did many foolish things merely because they were idle. Theirfriend seeing that they were irresolute, and could not fix on anyemployment, requested Caroline to assist her to make some clothes, that apoor woman was in want of, and while we are at work, she added, Mary willread us an entertaining tale, which I will point out.
