My Dear Lady G.,
I received your last letter at Paris, as we were disposing every thing
for our return to England, after an absence of near two years; in
which, as I have informed you, from time to time, I have been a
great traveller, into Holland, the Netherlands, through the most
considerable province of France, into Italy; and, in our return to
Paris again (the principal place of our residence), through several
parts of Germany.
I told you of the favours and civilities we received at Florence, from
the then Countess Dowager of----, who, with her humble servant Lord
C----(that had so assiduously attended her for so many months in
Italy), accompanied us from Florence to Inspruck.
Her ladyship made that worthy lord happy in about a month after she
parted from us, and the noble pair gave us an opportunity at Paris,
in their way to England, to return some of the civilities which
we received from them in Italy; and they are now arrived at her
ladyship's seat on the Forest.
Her lord is exceedingly fond of her, as he well may; for she is one of
the most charming ladies in England; and behaves to him with so much
prudence and respect, that they are as happy in each other as can be
wished. And let me just add, that both in Italy and at Paris, Mr. B.'s
demeanour and her ladyship's to one another, was so nobly open, and
unaffectedly polite, as well as highly discreet, that neither Lord C.
who had once been jealous of Mr. B. nor the _other party_, who had
had a tincture of the same yellow evil, as you know, because of the
Countess, had so much as a shadow of uneasiness remaining on the
occasion.
Lord Davers has had his health (which had begun to decline in England)
so well, that there was no persuading Lady Davers to return before
now, although I begged and prayed I might not have another little
Frenchman, for fear they should, as they grew up, forget, as I
pleasantly used to say, the obligations which their parentage lays
them under to dearer England.
And now, my dearest friend, I have shut up my rambles for my whole
life; for three little English folks, and one little Frenchman (but
a charming baby as well as the rest, Charley by name), and a near
prospect of a further increase, you will say, are family enough to
employ all my cares at home.
I have told you, from time to time, although I could not write to you
so often as I would, because of our being constantly in motion, what
was most worthy of your knowledge relating to every particular, and
how happy we all have been in one another. And I have the pleasure to
confirm to you what I have often written, that Mr. B. and my Lord and
Lady Davers are all that I could wish and hope for, with regard to
their first duties. We are indeed a happy family, united by the best
and most solid ties!
Miss Goodwin is a charming young lady!--I cannot express how much I
love her. She is a perfect mistress of the French language and speaks
Italian very prettily! And, as to myself, I have improved so well
under my dear tutor's lessons, together with the opportunity of
conversing with the politest and most learned gentry of different
nations, that I will discourse with you in two or three languages, if
you please, when I have the happiness to see you. There's a learned
boaster for you, my dear friend! (if the knowledge of different
languages makes one learned.)--But I shall bring you an heart as
entirely English as ever, for all that!
We landed on Thursday last at Dover, and directed our course to the
dear farm-house; and you can better imagine, than I express, our
meeting with my dear father and mother, and my beloved Davers and
Pamela, who are charming babies.--But is not this the language of
every fond mamma?
Miss Goodwin is highly delighted now with my sweet little Pamela, and
says, she shall be her sister indeed! "For, Madam," said she, "Miss
is a beauty!--And we see no French beauties like Master Davers and
Miss."--"Beauty! my dear," said I; "what is beauty, if she be not
a good girl? Beauty is but a specious, and, as it may happen, a
dangerous recommendation, a mere skin-deep perfection; and if, as she
grows up, she is not as good as Miss Goodwin, she shall be none of my
girl."
What adds to my pleasure, my dear friend, is to see them both so well
got over the small-pox. It has been as happy for them, as it was for
their mamma and her Billy, that they had it under so skilful and kind
a manager in that distemper, as my dear mother. I wish if it please
God, it was as happily over with my little pretty Frenchman.
Every body is surprised to see what the past two years have done for
Miss Goodwin and my Billy.--O, my dear friend, they are both of them
almost--nay, quite, I think, for their years, all that I wish them
to be. In order to make them keep their French, which Miss so well
speaks, and Billy so prettily prattles, I oblige them, when they
are in the nursery, to speak nothing else: but at table, except on
particular occasions, when French may be spoken, they are to speak
in English; that is, when they do speak: for I tell them, that little
masters must only ask questions for information, and say--"Yes,"
or--"No," till their papas or mammas permit them to speak; nor little
ladies neither, till they are sixteen; for--"My dear loves," cry I,
"you would not speak before you know _how_; and knowledge is obtained
by _hearing_, and not by _speaking_." And setting my Billy on my lap,
in Miss's presence--"Here," said I, taking an ear in the fingers of
each hand, "are two ears, my Billy," and then, pointing to his mouth,
"but one tongue, my love; so you must be sure to mind that you _hear_
twice as much as you _speak_, even when you grow a bigger master than
you are now."
"You have so many pretty ways to learn one, Madam," says Miss, now and
then, "that it is impossible we should not regard what you say to us!"
Several French tutors, when we were abroad, were recommended to Mr. B.
But there is one English gentleman, now on his travels with young Mr.
R. with whom Mr. B. has agreed; and in the mean time, my best friend
is pleased to compliment me, that the children will not suffer for
want of a tutor, while I can take the pains I do: which he will have
to be too much for me: especially that now, on our return, my Davers
and my Pamela are added to my cares. But what mother can take too much
pains to cultivate the minds of her children?--If, my dear Lady G.,
it were not for these _frequent_ lyings-in!--But this is the time
of life.--Though little did I think, so early, I should have so many
careful blessings!
I have as great credit as pleasure from my little family. All our
neighbours here admire us more and more. You'll excuse my seeming
(for it is but seeming) vanity: I hope I know better than to have it
real--"Never," says Mrs. Towers, who is still a single lady, "did
I see, before, a lady so much advantaged by her residence in that
fantastic nation" (for she loves not the French) "who brought home
with her nothing of their affectation!"--She says, that the French
politeness, and the English frankness and plainness of heart, appear
happily blended in all we say and do. And she makes me a thousand
compliments upon Lord and Lady Davers's account, who, she would
fain persuade me, owe a great deal of improvement (my lord in his
conversation, and my lady in her temper) to living in the same house
with us.
My Lady Davers is exceeding kind and good to me, is always magnifying
me to every body, and says she knows not how to live from me: and that
I have been a means of saving half a hundred souls, as well as her
dear brother's. On an indisposition of my Lord's at Montpellier, which
made her very apprehensive, she declared, that were she to be deprived
of his lordship, she would not let us rest till we had consented to
her living with us; saying that we had room enough in Lincolnshire,
and she would enlarge the Bedfordshire seat at her own expense.
Mr. H. is Mr. H. still; and that's the best I can say of him; for I
verily think, he is more of an ape than ever. His _whole_ head is now
French. 'Twas _half_ so before. We had great difficulties with
him abroad: his aunt and I endeavouring to give him a serious and
religious turn, we had like to have turned him into a Roman Catholic.
For he was much pleased with the shewy part of that religion, and the
fine pictures, and decorations in the churches of Italy; and having
got into company with a Dominican at Padua, a Franciscan at Milan, and
a Jesuit at Paris, they lay so hard at him, in their turns, that we
had like to have lost him to each assailant: so were forced to let him
take his own course; for, his aunt would have it, that he had no
other defence from the attacks of persons to make him embrace a faulty
religion, than to permit him to continue as he was; that is to say,
to have none at all. So she suspended attempting to proselyte the
thoughtless creature, till he came to England. I wish her success
here: but, I doubt, he will not be a credit to any religion, for a
great while. And as he is very desirous to go to London, it will be
found, when there, that any fluttering coxcomb will do more to make
him one of that class, in an hour, than his aunt's lessons, to make
him a good man, in a twelvemonth. "_Where much is given, much is
required_." The contrary of this, I doubt, is all poor Mr. H. has to
trust to.
We have just now heard that his father, who has been long ill, is
dead. So now, he is a lord indeed! He flutters and starts about most
strangely, I warrant, and is wholly employed in giving directions as
to his mourning equipage.--And now there will be no holding him in, I
doubt; except his new title has so much virtue in it, as to make him a
wiser and better man.
He will now have a seat in the House of Peers of Great Britain; but I
hope, for the nation's sake, he will not find many more like himself
there!--For, to me, that is one of the most venerable assemblies in
the world; and it appears the more so, since I have been abroad; for
an English gentleman is respected, if he be any thing of a man,
above a foreign nobleman; and an English nobleman above some petty
sovereigns.
If our travelling gentry duly considered this distinction in their
favour, they would, for the honour of their country, as well as for
their own credit, behave in a better manner, in their foreign tours,
than, I am sorry to say, some of them do. But what can one expect from
the unlicked cubs (pardon the term) sent abroad with only stature, to
make them look like men, and equipage to attract respect, without one
other qualification to enforce it?
Here let me close this, with a few tears, to the memory of my dear
Mrs. Jervis, my other mother, my friend, my adviser, my protectress,
in my single state; and my faithful second and partaker in the
comforts of my higher life, and better fortunes!
What would I have given to have been present, as it seems, she so
earnestly wished, to close her dying eyes! I should have done it with
the piety and the concern of a truly affectionate daughter. But that
melancholy happiness was denied to us both; for, as I told you in
the letter on the occasion, the dear good woman (who is now in the
possession of her blessed reward, and rejoicing in God's mercies) was
no more, when the news reached me, so far off as Heidelburgh, of her
last illness and wishes.
I cannot forbear, every time I enter her parlour (where I used to see,
with so much delight, the good woman sitting, always employed in
some useful or pious work), shedding a tear to her memory; and in my
Sabbath duties, missing _her_, I miss half a dozen friends, methinks;
and I sigh in remembrance of her; and can only recover that cheerful
frame, which the performance of those duties always gave me, by
reflecting, that she is now reaping the reward of that sincere piety,
which used to edify and encourage us all.
The servants we brought home, and those we left behind, melt in tears
at the name of Mrs. Jervis. Mr. Longman, too, lamented the loss of
her, in the most moving strain. And all I can do now, in honour of her
memory and her merit, is to be a friend to those she loved most, as
I have already begun to be, and none of them shall suffer in those
concerns that can be answered, now she is gone. For the loss of so
excellent a friend and relation, is loss enough to all who knew her,
and claimed kindred with her.
Poor worthy Jonathan, too, ('tis almost a misery to have so soft,
so susceptible an heart as I have, or to have such good servants and
friends as one cannot lose without such emotions as I feel for the
loss of them!) his silver hairs, which I have beheld with so much
delight, and thought I had a father in presence, when I saw them
adorning so honest and comely a face, are now laid low!--Forgive
me, he was not a common servant; neither are _any_ of ours so: but
Jonathan excelled all that excelled in his class!-I am told, that
these two worthy folks died within two days of one another: on which
occasion I could not help saying to myself, in the words of David over
Saul and his son Jonathan, the name-sake of our worthy butler--"_They
were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their deaths they were
not divided._"
I might have continued on in the words of the royal lamenter; for,
surely, never did one fellow-servant love another in my maiden state,
nor servant love a mistress in my exalted condition, better than
Jonathan loved me! I could see in his eyes a glistening pleasure,
whenever I passed by him: if at such times I spoke to him, as I seldom
failed to do, with a--"_God bless you too!_" in answer to his repeated
blessings, he had a kind of rejuvenescence (may I say?) visibly
running through his whole frame: and, now and then, if I laid my hands
upon his folded ones, as I passed him on a Sunday morning or evening,
praying for me, with a--"_How do you, my worthy old acquaintance?_"
his heart would spring to his lips in a kind of rapture, and his eyes
would run over.
O my beloved friend! how the loss of these two worthies of my family
oppresses me at times!
Mr. B. likewise shewed a generous concern on the occasion: and when
all the servants welcomed us in a body, on our return--"Methinks
my dear," said he, "I miss your Mrs. Jervis, and honest Jonathan." A
starting tear, and--"They are happy, dear honest souls!" and a sigh,
were the tribute I paid to their memories, on their beloved master's
so kindly repeating their names.
Who knows, had I been here--But away, too painful reflections--They
lived to a good old age, and fell like fruit fully ripe: they _died
the death of the righteous_; I must follow them in time, God knows how
soon; and, _Oh! that my latter end may be like theirs!_
Once more, forgive me, my dear friend, this small tribute to their
memories: and believe, that I am not so ungrateful for God's mercies,
as to let the loss of these dear good folks lessen with me the joy and
delight I have still left me, in the health and the love of the best
of husbands, and good men; in the children, charming as ever mother
could boast of--charming, I mean, principally, in the dawning beauties
of their minds, and in the pleasure their towardliness of nature gives
me; including, as I always do, my dear Miss Goodwin, and have reason
to do, from her dutiful love of me, and observation of all I say to
her; in the preservation to me of the best and worthiest of parents,
hearty, though aged as they are; in the love and friendship of good
Lord and Lady Davers, and my excellent friend Lady G.; not forgetting
even worthy Mr. Longman. God preserve all these to me, as I am truly
thankful for his mercies!--And then, notwithstanding my affecting
losses, as above, who will be so happy as I? That you, my dear Lady
G. may long continue so, likewise in the love of a worthy husband, and
the delights of an increasing hopeful family, which will make you some
amends for the heavy losses you also have sustained, in the two last
years of an affectionate father, and a most worthy mother, and, in
Mrs. Jones, of a good neighbour, prays _your ever affectionate friend
and servant_,