My father had been early in life intimately connected with the family of
Mr. Stanley. Though this gentleman was his junior by several years, yet
there subsisted between them such a similarity of tastes, sentiments,
views, and principles, that they lived in the closest friendship; and
both their families having in the early part of their lives resided in
London, the occasions of that thorough mutual knowledge that grows out
of familiar intercourse, were much facilitated. I remembered Mr.
Stanley, when I was a very little boy, paying an annual visit to my
father at the Priory, and I had retained an imperfect but pleasing
impression of his countenance and engaging manners.
Having had a large estate left him in Hampshire, he settled there on his
marriage; an intercourse of letters had kept up the mutual attachment
between him and my father. On the death of each parent, I had received a
cordial invitation to come and soothe my sorrows in his society. My
father enjoined me that one of my first visits after his death, should
be to the Grove; and in truth I now considered my Hampshire engagement
as the _bonne bouche_ of my southern excursion.
I reached Stanley Grove before dinner. I found a spacious mansion,
suited to the ample fortune and liberal spirit of its possessor. I was
highly gratified with fine forest scenery in the approach to the park.
The house had a noble appearance without; and within, it was at once
commodious and elegant. It stood on the south side of a hill, nearer the
bottom than the summit, and was sheltered on the north-east by a fine
old wood. The park, though it was not very extensive, was striking from
the beautiful inequality of the ground, which was richly clothed with
the most picturesque oaks I ever saw, interspersed with stately beeches.
The grounds were laid out in good taste, but though the hand of modern
improvement was visible, the owner had in one instance spared
"The obsolete prolixity of shade,"
for which the most interesting of poets so pathetically pleads. The
poet's plea had saved the avenue.
I was cordially welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Stanley; and by that powerful
and instantaneous impression which fine sense and good breeding, joined
to high previous veneration of character, produce on the feelings of the
guest, I at once felt myself at home. All the preliminaries of gradual
acquaintance were in a manner superseded, and I soon experienced that
warm and affectionate esteem, which seemed scarcely to require
intercourse to strengthen, or time to confirm it. Mr. Stanley had only a
few minutes to present me to his lady and two lovely daughters, before
we were summoned to dinner, to which a considerable party had been
invited; for the neighborhood was populous and rather polished.
The conversation after dinner was rational, animated, and instructive. I
observed that Mr. Stanley lost no opportunity, which fairly offered, for
suggesting useful reflections. But what chiefly struck me in his manner
of conversing, was, that without ever pressing religion unseasonably
into the service, he had the talent of making the most ordinary topics
subservient to instruction, and of extracting some profitable hint, or
striking out some important light, from subjects which, in ordinary
hands, would have been unproductive of improvement. It was evident that
piety was the predominating principle of his mind, and that he was
consulting its interests as carefully when prudence made him forbear to
press it, as when propriety allowed him to introduce it. This piety was
rather visible in the sentiment than the phrase. He was of opinion that
bad taste could never advance the interests of Christianity. And he gave
less offense to worldly men, than most religious people I have known,
because though he would, on no human consideration, abate one atom of
zeal, or lower any doctrine, nor disguise any truth, nor palliate, nor
trim, nor compromise, yet he never contended for words or trifling
distinctions. He thought it detracted from no man's piety to bring all
his elegance of expression, his correctness of taste, and his accuracy
of reasoning to the service of that cause which lies the nearest to the
heart of every Christian, and demands the exertion of his best
faculties.
He was also forward to promote subjects of practical use in the affairs
of common life, suited to the several circumstances and pursuits of his
guests. But he particularly rejoiced that there was so broad, and safe,
and uninclosed a field as general literature. This he observed always
supplies men of education with an ample refuge from all vulgar, and
dangerous, and unproductive topics. "If we can not," said he, "by
friendly intercourse, always raise our principles, we may always keep
our understanding in exercise; and those authors who supply so peccable
a creature as man with subjects of elegant and innocent discussion, I do
not reckon among the lowest benefactors of mankind."
In my further acquaintance with Mr. Stanley, I have sometimes observed
with what address he has converted a merely moral passage to a religious
purpose. I have known him, when conversing with a man who would not have
relished a more sacred authority, seize on a sentiment in Tully's
Offices, for the lowest degree in his scale of morals, and then
gradually ascending, trace and exalt the same thought through Paley or
Johnson, or Addison or Bacon, till he has unsuspectedly landed his
opponent in the pure ethics of the Gospel, and surprised him into the
adoption of a Christian principle.
As I had heard there was a fine little flock of children, I was
surprised, and almost disappointed every time the door opened, not to
see them appear, for I already began to take an interest in all that
related to this most engaging family. The ladies having, to our great
gratification, sat longer than is usual at most tables, at length obeyed
the signal of the mistress of the house. They withdrew, followed by the
Miss Stanleys,
With grace
Which won who saw to wish their stay.
After their departure the conversation was not changed. There was no
occasion; it could not become more rational, and we did not desire that
it should become less pure. Mrs. Stanley and her fair friends had taken
their share in it with a good sense and delicacy which raised the tone
of our society; and we did not give them to understand by a loud laugh
before they were out of hearing, that we rejoiced in being emancipated
from the restraint of their presence.
Mrs. Stanley is a graceful and elegant woman. Among a thousand other
excellences, she is distinguished for her judgment in adapting her
discourse to the character of her guests, and for being singularly
skillful in selecting her topics of conversation. I never saw a lady who
possessed the talent of diffusing at her table so much pleasure to those
around her, without the smallest deviation from her own dignified
purity. She asks such questions as strangers may be likely to gain, at
least not to lose, credit by answering; and she suits her interrogations
to the kind of knowledge they may be supposed likely to possess. By
this, two ends are answered: while she gives her guest an occasion of
appearing to advantage, she puts herself in the way of gaining some
information. From want of this discernment, I have known ladies ask a
gentleman just arrived from the East Indies, questions about America;
and others, from the absence of that true delicacy, which, where it
exists, shows itself even on the smallest occasions, who have inquired
of a person how he liked such a book, though she knew, that in the
nature of things, there was no probability of his ever having heard of
it: thus assuming an ungenerous superiority herself, and mortifying
another by a sense of his own comparative ignorance. If there is any one
at table who from his station has least claim to attention, he is sure
to be treated with particular kindness by Mrs. Stanley, and the
diffident never fail to be encouraged, and the modest to be brought
forward, by the kindness and refinement of her attentions.
When we were summoned to the drawing-room, I was delighted to see four
beautiful children, fresh as health and gay as youth could make them,
busily engaged with the ladies. One was romping; another singing; a
third was showing some drawings of birds, the natural history of which
she seemed to understand; a fourth had spread a dissected map on the
carpet, and had pulled down her eldest sister on the floor to show her
Copenhagen. It was an animating scene. I could have devoured the sweet
creatures. I got credit with the little singer by helping her to a line
which she had forgotten, and with the geographer by my superior
acquaintance with the shores of the Baltic.
In the evening when the company had left us, I asked Mrs. Stanley how
she came so far to deviate from established custom as not to produce her
children immediately after dinner? "You must ask me," said Mr. Stanley,
smiling, "for it was I who first ventured to suggest this bold
innovation. I love my children fondly, but my children I have always at
home; I have my friends but seldom; and I do not choose that any portion
of the time that I wish to dedicate to intellectual and social enjoyment
should be broken in upon by another, and an interfering pleasure, which
I have always within my reach. At the same time I like my children to
see my friends. Company amuses, improves, and polishes them. I therefore
consulted with Mrs. Stanley how we could so manage as to enjoy our
friends without locking up our children. She recommended this expedient.
The time, she said, spent by the ladies from their leaving the
dining-room till the gentlemen came in to tea, was often a little heavy,
it was rather an interval of anticipation than of enjoyment. Those
ladies who had not much _mind_, had soon exhausted their admiration of
each other's worked muslins, and lace sleeves; and those who _had_,
would be glad to rest it so agreeably. She therefore proposed to enliven
that dull period by introducing the children.
"This little change has not only succeeded in our own family, but has
been adopted by many of our neighbors. For ourselves, it has answered a
double purpose. It not only delights the little things, but it delights
them with less injury than the usual season of their appearance. Our
children have always as much fruit as they like, after their own dinner;
they do not therefore want or desire the fruits, the sweetmeats, the
cakes, and the wine with which the guests, in order to please mamma, are
too apt to cram them. Besides, poor little dears, it mixes too much
selfishness with the natural delight they have in seeing company, by
connecting it with the idea of the good things they shall get. But by
this alteration we do all in our power to infuse a little
disinterestedness into the pleasure they have in coming to us. We love
them too tenderly to crib their little enjoyments, so we give them two
pleasures instead of one, for they have their dessert and our company in
succession."
Though I do not approve of too great familiarity with servants, yet I
think that to an old and faithful domestic, superior consideration is
due. My attendant on my present tour had lived in our family from his
youth, and had the care of me before I can remember. His fidelity and
good sense, and I may add, his piety, had obtained for him the privilege
of free speaking. "Oh, sir," said he, when he came to attend me next
morning, "we are got into the right house at last. Such a family! so
godly! so sober! so charitable! 'Tis all of a piece here, sir. Mrs.
Comfit, the housekeeper, tells me that her master and mistress are the
example of all the rich, and the refuge of all the poor in the
neighborhood. And as to Miss Lucilla, if the blessing of them that are
ready to perish can send any body to heaven, she will go there sure
enough."
This rhapsody of honest Edwards warmed my heart, and put me in mind that
I had neglected to inquire after this worthy housekeeper, who had lived
with my grandfather, and was at his death transplanted into the family
of Mr. Stanley. I paid a visit, the first opportunity, to the good
woman in her room, eager to learn more of a family who much resembled my
own parents, and for whom I had already conceived something more tender
than mere respect.
I congratulated Mrs. Comfit on the happiness of living in so valuable a
family. In return, she was even eloquent in their praises. "Her
mistress," she said, "was a pattern for ladies, so strict, and yet so
kind! but now, indeed, Miss Lucilla has taken almost all the family
cares from her mamma. The day she was sixteen, sir, that is about two
years and a half ago, she began to inspect the household affairs a
little, and as her knowledge increased, she took more and more upon her.
Miss Ph[oe]be will very soon be old enough to relieve her sister; but my
mistress won't let her daughters have any thing to do with family
affairs till they are almost women grown, both for fear it should take
them off from their learning, and also give them a low turn about eating
and caring for niceties, and lead them into vulgar gossip and
familiarity with servants. It is time enough, she says, when their
characters are a little formed, they will then gain all the good and
escape all the danger."
Seeing me listen with the most eager and delighted attention, the worthy
woman proceeded. "In summer, sir, Miss Stanley rises at six, and spends
two hours in her closet, which is stored with the best books. At eight
she consults me on the state of provisions, and other family matters,
and gives me a bill of fare, subject to the inspection of her mamma. The
cook has great pleasure in acting under her direction, because she
allows that Miss understands when things are well done, and never finds
fault in the wrong place; which, she says, is a great mortification in
serving ignorant ladies, who praise or find fault by chance, not
according to the cook's performance, but their own humor. She looks
over my accounts every week, which being kept so short, give her but
little trouble, and once a month she settles every thing with her
mother.
"'Tis a pleasure, sir, to see how skillful she is in accounts! One can't
impose upon her a farthing if one would; and yet she is so mild and so
reasonable! and so quick at distinguishing what are mistakes, and what
are willful faults! Then she is so compassionate! It will be a
heart-breaking day at the Grove, sir, whenever Miss marries. When my
master is sick, she writes his letters, reads to him, and assists her
mamma in nursing him.
"After her morning's work, sir, does she come into company, tired and
cross, as ladies do who have done nothing or are but just up? No, she
comes in to make breakfast for her parents, as fresh as a rose, and as
gay as a lark. An hour after breakfast, she and my master read some
learned books together. She then assists in teaching her little sisters,
and never were children better instructed. One day in a week, she sets
aside both for them and herself to work for the poor, whom she also
regularly visits at their own cottages, two evenings in the week; for
she says it would be troublesome and look ostentatious to have her
father's doors crowded with poor people, neither could she get at their
wants and their characters half so well as by going herself to their own
houses. My dear mistress has given her a small room as a store-house for
clothing and books for her indigent neighbors. In this room each of the
younger daughters, the day she is seven years old, has her own drawer,
with her name written on it; and almost the only competition among them
is, whose shall be soonest filled with caps, aprons, and handkerchiefs.
The working day is commonly concluded by one of these charitable visits.
The dear creatures are loaded with their little work-baskets, crammed
with necessaries. This, sir, is the day--and it is always looked
forward to with pleasure by them all. Even little Celia, the youngest,
who is but just turned of five, will come to me and beg for something
good to put in her basket for poor Mary or Betty such a one. I wonder I
do not see any thing of the little darlings; it is about the time they
used to pay me a visit.
"On Sundays before church they attend the village school; when the
week's pocket-money, which has been carefully hoarded for the purpose,
is produced for rewards to the most deserving scholars. And yet, sir,
with all this, you may be in the house a month without hearing a word of
the matter; it is all done so quietly; and when they meet at their meals
they are more cheerful and gay than if they had been ever so idle."
Here Mrs. Comfit stopped, for just then two sweet little cherry-cheeked
figures presented themselves at the door, swinging a straw basket
between them, and crying out, in a little begging voice, "Pray, Mrs.
Comfit, bestow your charity--we want something coarse for the hungry,
and something nice for the sick--poor Dame Alice and her little
grand-daughter!" They were going on, but spying me, they colored up to
the ears, and ran away as fast as they could, though I did all in my
power to detain them.