In the afternoon, when the company were assembled in the drawing-room,
the conversation turned on various subjects. Mr. Flam, feeling as if he
had not sufficiently produced himself at dinner now took the lead. He
was never solicitous to show what he called his learning, but when Miss
Sparkes was present, whom it was his grand delight to _set down_ as he
called it. Then he never failed to give broad hints that if he was now
no great student, it was not from ignorance, but from the pressure of
more indispensable avocations.
He first rambled into some desultory remarks on the absurdity of the
world, and the preposterousness of modern usages, which perverted the
ends of education, and exalted things which were of least use into most
importance.
"You seem out of humor with the world, Mr. Flam," said Mr. Stanley. "I
hate the world," returned he. "It is indeed," replied Mr. Stanley, "a
scene of much danger, because of much evil."
"I don't value the danger a straw," rejoined Mr. Flam; "and as to the
evil, I hope I have sense enough to avoid that: but I hate it for its
folly, and despise it for its inconsistency."
"In what particulars, Mr. Flam?" said Sir John Belfield.
"In every thing," replied he. "In the first place, don't people educate
their daughters entirely for holidays, and then wonder that they are of
no use? Don't they charge them to be modest, and then teach them every
thing that can make them bold? Are we not angry that they don't attend
to great concerns, after having instructed them to take the most pains
for the least things? There is my Fan, now, they tell me she can dance
as well as a posture mistress, but she slouches in her walk like a
milkmaid. Now as she seldom dances, and is always walking, would it not
be more rational to teach her to do that best which she is to do the
oftenest? She sings like a siren, but 'tis only to strangers. I, who
paid for it, never hear her voice. She is always warbling in a distant
room, or in every room where there is company; but if I have the gout
and want to be amused, she is as dumb as a dormouse."
"So much for the errors in educating our daughters," said Sir John, "now
for the sons."
"As to our boys," returned Mr. Flam, "don't we educate them in one
religion, and then expect them to practice another? Don't we cram them
with books of heathen philosophy, and then bid them go and be good
Christians? Don't we teach them to admire the heroes and gods of the
old poets, when there is hardly one hero, and certainly not one god, who
would not in this country have been tried at the Old Bailey, if not
executed at Tyburn? And as to the goddesses, if they had been brought
before us on the bench, brother Stanley, there is scarcely one of them
but we should have ordered to the house of correction. The queen of
them, indeed, I should have sent to the ducking-stool for a scold.
"Then again, don't we tell our sons when men that they must admire a
monarchical government, after every pains have been taken, when they
were boys, to fill them with raptures for the ancient republics?"
"Surely, Mr. Flam," said Sir John, "the ancient forms of government may
be studied with advantage, were it only to show us by contrast the
superior excellence of our own."
"We might," said Miss Sparkes, in a supercilious accent, "learn some
things from them which we much want. You have been speaking of economy.
These republicans, whom Mr. Flam is pleased to speak of with so much
contempt, he must allow, had some good, clever contrivances to keep down
the taxes, which it would do us no harm to imitate. Victories were much
better bargains to them than they are to us. A few laurel leaves or a
sprig of oak was not quite so dear as a pension."
"But you will allow, madam," said Sir John, smiling, "that a triumph was
a more expensive reward than a title?"
Before she had time to answer, Mr. Flam said: "Let me tell you, Miss
Sparkes, that as to triumphs, our heroes are so used to them at sea,
that they would laugh at them at home. Those who obtain triumphs as
often as they meet their enemies, would despise such holiday play among
their friends. We don't to be sure reward them as your ancients did. We
don't banish them, nor put them to death for saving their country like
your Athenians. We don't pay them with a trumpery wreath like your
Romans. We English don't put our conquerors off with leaves; we give
them fruits, as cheerfully bestowed as they are fairly earned. God bless
them! I would reduce my table to one dish, my hall to one servant, my
stable to one saddle-horse, and my kennel to one pointer, rather than
abridge the preservers of old England of a feather."
"Signal exploits, if nationally beneficial," said Sir John, "deserve
substantial remuneration; and I am inclined to think that public honors
are valuable, not only as rewards but incitements. They are as politic
as they are just. When Miltiades and his illustrious ten thousand gained
their immortal victory, would not a Blenheim erected on the plains of
Marathon, have stimulated unborn soldiers more than the little
transitory columns which barely recorded the names of the victors?"
"What warrior," said Mr. Carlton, "will hereafter visit the future
palace of Trafalgar without reverence? A reverence, the purity of which
will be in no degree impaired by contemplating such an additional motive
to emulation."
In answer to some further observations of Miss Sparkes, on the
superiority of the ancient to British patriotism, Mr. Flam, whose
indignation now provoked him to display his whole stock of erudition,
eagerly exclaimed: "Do you call that patriotism in your favorite
Athenians, to be so fond of raree-shows, as not only to devote the money
of the state to the play-house, but to make it capital to divert a
little of it to the wants of the gallant soldiers who were fighting
their battles? I hate to hear fellows called patriots who preferred
their diversions to their country."
Then erecting himself as if he felt the taller for being an Englishman,
he added--"What, Madam Sparkes, would your Greeks have said to a
PATRIOTIC FUND by private contribution, of nearly half a million, in the
midst of heavy taxes and a tedious war, voluntarily raised and
cheerfully given to the orphans, widows, and mothers of their brave
countrymen, who fell in their defense? Were the poor soldiers who fought
under your Cimons, and your ----, I forget their names, ever so kindly
remembered? Make it out that they were--show me such a spirit among your
ancients, and I'll turn republican to-morrow."
Miss Sparkes having again said something which he thought tended to
exalt the ancient states at the expense of our own country, Mr. Flam
indignantly replied--"Tell me, madam, did your Athens, or your Sparta,
or your Rome, ever take in seven thousand starving priests driven from a
country with which they were at war; a country they had reason to hate,
of a religion they detested? Did they ever receive them, I say, maintain
them like gentlemen, and caress them like friends? If you can bring me
one such instance, I will give up Old England, and turn Greek, or Roman,
or--any thing but Frenchman."
"I should be inclined," said Mr. Stanley, "to set down that noble deed
to the account of our national religion, as well as of our national
generosity."
Miss Sparkes said, "In one respect, however, Mr. Flam imitates the
French whom he is abusing. He is very apt to triumph where he has gained
no victory. If you hear his account of a defeat, you would take it, like
theirs, for a conquest." She added, however, that there were illustrious
men in other countries beside our own, as their successes testified. For
her part, she was a citizen of the world, and honored heroes wherever
they were found, in Macedon, in Sweden, or even in France.
"True enough," rejoined Mr. Flam, "the rulers of other countries have
gone about and delivered kingdoms as we are doing; but there is this
difference: they free them from mild masters, to make them their own
slaves; we neither get them for ourselves or our minions, our brothers,
or cousins, our Jeromes, or Josephs. _We_ raise the weak, _they_ pull
down the prosperous. If _we_ redeem kingdoms, 'tis to bestow them on
their own lawful kings. If we help this nation, 'tis to recall one
sovereign from banishment, if we assist that, 'tis to deliver him from
captivity."
"What a scene for Spain," said Sir John, "to behold in us their own
national Quixotism soberly exemplified, and rationally realized! The
generous theory of their romantic knight-errant brought into actual
practice. The fervor without the absurdity; the sound principle of
justice without the extravagance of fancy! Wrongs redressed and rights
restored, and upon the grandest scale! Deliverance wrought, not for
imaginary princesses, but for deposed and imprisoned monarchs! Injuries
avenged--not the ideal injuries of ridiculous individuals, but the
substantial wrongs of plundered empires!"
Sir John, who was amused with the oddities of Mr. Flam, was desirous of
still provoking him to talk; much effort indeed was not required to
induce him to do what he was fond of doing, whenever there was an
opportunity of contradicting Miss Sparkes.
"But, Mr. Flam," said Sir John, "you were interrupted as you began to
enumerate the inconsistencies which you said had put you out of love
with the world."
"Why, it makes me mad," replied he, "to hear men who make the loudest
outcry about the dangers of the state, cramming their houses with French
governesses, French cooks, and French valets; is not this adding flame
to the fire? Then I have no patience to see people who pretend great
zeal for the church, delighted that an Italian singer should have a
larger revenue than the highest of our own bishops. Such patriots might
have done well enough for Athenians," added he, looking exultingly at
Miss Sparkes, "but they make miserable Englishmen. Then I hate to see
fellows who pay least taxes, complaining most of the burden--those who
most lament the hardness of the times, spending money in needless
extravagance, and luxury increasing in exact proportion as means
diminish.
"Then I am sick of the conceit of the boys and girls. Do but observe how
their vanity imposes on their understanding, and how names disguise
things. My son would start, if I were to desire him to go to London in
the _stage coach_, but he _puts himself into the mail_ with great
coolness. If I were to talk to Fan about living in a _small house_, she
would not give me the hearing, whereas she is quite wild to live in a
_cottage_."
"I do not quite agree with you, Mr. Flam," said Sir John, smiling, "as
to the inconsistency of the world, I rather lament its dull uniformity.
If we may rely on those living chronicles, the newspapers, all is one
faultless scene of monotonous perfection. Were it otherwise, I presume
those frugal philologers would not keep a set of phrases ready cut and
dried, in order to apply them universally in all cases. For instance, is
not every public place from St. James's to Otaheite, or the Cape,
invariably _crowded with beauty and fashion_? Is not every public sermon
pronounced to be _excellent_? Is not every civic speech, every
provincial harangue, _neat and appropriate_? And is not every military
corps, from the veteran regiment of regulars, to the volunteer company
of a month's standing, always declared to be _in the highest state of
discipline_?"
Before the company went away, I observed that Mrs. Carlton gave Lucilla
a significant glance, and both withdrew together. In spite of my
thorough belief of the injustice and absurdity of my suspicions, a pang
darted through my heart at the bare possibility that Lord Staunton
might be the subject of this secret conference. I was perfectly assured,
that Miss Stanley would never accept him, while he retained his present
character, but that character might be improved. She had rejected him
for his principles; if these principles were changed, there was no other
reasonable ground of objection. He might be reformed. Dare I own, even
to myself, that I dreaded to hear of his reformation. I hate myself for
the thought. I will, said I faintly, endeavor to rejoice if it be so. I
felt a conflict in my mind, between my principles and my passion, that
distressed me not a little. My integrity had never before been so
assailed. At length they returned; I earnestly examined their
countenances. Both looked cheerful, and even animated; yet it was
evident from the redness of their eyes that they had been weeping. The
company immediately took their leave; all our party, as it was a fine
evening, attended them out to their carriages, except Miss Stanley: she
only pressed the hand of Mrs. Carlton, smiled, and looking as if she
durst not trust herself to talk to her, withdrew to the bow window from
whence she could see them depart. I remained in the room. As she was
wiping her eyes to take away the redness, which was a sure way to
increase it, I ventured to join her, and inquired with an earnestness I
could not conceal, what had happened to distress her. "These are not
tears of distress," said she, sweetly smiling. "I am quite ashamed that
I have so little self-control; but Mrs. Carlton has given me so much
pleasure! I have caught the infection of her joy, though my foolish
sympathy looks more like sorrow." Surely, said I, indignantly to myself,
she will not own Lord Staunton's love to my face?
All frank and open as Miss Stanley was, I was afraid to press her. I had
not courage to ask what I longed to know. Though Lord Staunton's
renewed addresses might not give them so much pleasure, yet his
reformation, I knew, would. I now looked so earnestly inquisitive at
Lucilla, that she said, "My poor friend is at last quite happy. I know
you will rejoice with us. Mr. Carlton has for some time regularly read
the Bible with her. He condescends to hear her and to invite her
remarks, telling her, that if he is the better classic, she is the
better Christian, and that their assistance in the things which each
understands must be reciprocal. If he is her teacher in human
literature, he says, she must be his in that which is divine. He has
been very earnest to get his mind imbued with scriptural knowledge; but
this is not all.
"Last Saturday he said to her, 'Henrietta, I have but one complaint to
make of you; and it is for a fault which I always thought would be the
last I should ever have to charge you with. It is selfishness.' Mrs.
Carlton was a little shocked, though the tenderness of his manner
mitigated her alarm. 'Henrietta,' resumed he, 'you intend to go to
heaven without your husband? I know you always retire to your
dressing-room, not only for your private devotions, but to read prayers
to your maids. What have your men-servants done, what has your husband
done, that they should be excluded? Is it not a little selfish, my
Henrietta,' added he, smiling, 'to confine your zeal to the eternal
happiness of your own sex? Will you allow me and our men-servants to
join you? To-morrow is Sunday, we will then, if you please, begin in the
hall. You shall prepare what you would have read; and I will be your
chaplain. A most unworthy one, Henrietta, I confess; but you will not
only have a chaplain of your own making, but a Christian also.'
"'Never, my dear Lucilla,' continued Mrs. Carlton, 'did I know what true
happiness was till that moment. My husband, with all his faults, had
always been remarkably sincere. Indeed, his aversion to all hypocrisy
had made him keep back his right feelings and sentiments till he was
assured they were well established in his mind. He has for some time
been regular at church, a thing, he said, too much taken up as a
customary form to be remarkable, and which therefore involved not much;
but family prayer, adopted from conviction of its being a duty, rather
pledged a man to consistent religion. Never, I hope, shall I forget the
joy I felt, nor my gratitude to that 'Being from whom all holy desires
proceed,' when, with all his family kneeling solemnly around him, I
heard my once unhappy husband with a sober fervor begin:
"'To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have
rebelled against him, neither have we obeyed the voice of the Lord our
God, to walk in his laws which he set before us.'
"He evidently struggled with his own feelings; but his manly mind
carried him through with an admirable mixture of dignity and feeling. He
was so serenely cheerful the rest of the evening that I felt he had
obtained a great victory over himself, and his heart was at peace within
him. Prayer with him was not a beginning form, but a consummation of his
better purposes."
The sweet girl could not forbear weeping again while she was giving me
this interesting account. I felt as if I had never loved her till then.
To see her so full of sensibility without the slightest tincture of
romance, so feeling, yet so sober-minded, enchanted me. I could now
afford to wish heartily for Lord Staunton's reformation, because it was
not likely to interfere with my hopes. And now the danger was over, I
even endeavored to make myself believe that I _should_ have wished it in
any event, so treacherous will the human heart be found by those who
watch its motions. And it proceeds from not watching them that the
generality are so little acquainted with the evils which lurk within it.
Before I had time to express half what I felt to the fair narrator the
party came in. They seemed as much puzzled at the position in which they
found Lucilla and myself, she wiping her eyes, and I standing by in
admiration, as I had been at her mysterious interview with Mrs. Carlton.
The Belfields knew not what to make of it. The mother's looks expressed
astonishment and anxiety. The father's eye demanded an explanation. All
this mute eloquence passed in an instant. Miss Stanley gave them not
time to inquire. She flew to her mother, and eagerly repeated the little
tale which furnished matter for grateful joy and improving conversation
the rest of the evening.
Mr. Stanley expressed a thorough confidence in the sincerity of Carlton.
"He had always," continued he, "in his worst days an abhorrence of
deceit, and such a dread of people appearing better than they are, that
he even commended that most absurd practice of Dean Swift, who, you
know, used to perform family prayers in a garret, for fear any one
should call in and detect him in the performance." Carlton defended this
as an honorable instance of Swift's abhorrence of ostentation in
religion. I opposed it on the more probable ground of his being ashamed
of it. For allowing, what however never can be allowed, that an ordinary
man might have some excuse for the dread of being sneered at, as wanting
to be thought righteous overmuch; yet in a churchman, in a dignified
churchman, family prayer would be expected as a customary decency, an
indispensable appendage to his situation, which, though it might be
practiced without piety, could not be omitted without disgrace, and
which even a sensible infidel, considering it merely as a professional
act, could not say was a custom
"More honored in the breach than the observance."