companion of my youth; and listened with unwearied delight to
the flow of mind which poured its exhaustless treasure from his
lips; sometimes expanding its stream to the amplitude of ocean,
then narrowing its pellucid waves within confines of unrivalled
fertility; and again, (if you will allow me to pursue the image,)
still farther contracting its limits to dissport occasionally amid
the enchantments of rock and bower, scattering its spray in bright
fantastic sparkles all around. You are to consider an introduction
to this hallowed spot, which I have consecrated to his memory, as
a distinguishing mark of the regard with which I wish to treat his
nephew, and an earnest of that friendship, which if you desire to
cultivate, I shall be happy to bestow on one so nearly allied to
the man who, of all others, I most loved upon earth." There was a
solemn tenderness in his manner which thrilled me; and I thanked
him heartily, expressing as well as I could, how gratefully I felt
inclined to profit by his kindness, adding, "I do not believe that
I ever saw my uncle Henry: if I did, it must have been in early
childhood, for I have no remembrance of him, but have often heard
of him as a person rarely gifted."--"Yes,--had you ever seen him,
he could never have been forgotten! there was an illumination in
his very countenance which irresistibly seized upon the attention.
The play of intelligence upon his features was like the summer
lightning, 'as bright and harmless too;' and, in him were combined
'the wisdom of the serpent, with the innocence of the dove.' My
dear departed Douglas possessed the most brilliant talents. Imagine
these rising majestically from a solid plinth of boldest structure
in religion and morals, while Fancy in her most tasteful mood
had wreathed the light acanthus round his brow, and you may form
some idea of the man who, in our youthful days, was always called
the 'Corinthian pillar' of that little band in whose society he
passed his hours of recreation. He was at once the most profound
reasoner, the acutest critic, the soundest arbiter, and the
kindest friend. The peculiar sensitiveness of his character never
impaired its strength; and a remarkable accuracy of observation
with which heaven had endowed him, acting in concert with an
uncompromising integrity, imparted the influence of truth itself,
to the decisions of his judgment. He saw whatever subject was
presented to his understanding, in all its different bearings, with
quickness bordering on intuition; and was enabled by the variety
of his knowledge, to enter into the minutest details, without
diminishing the force of outline in any question that offered
itself for discussion. As might be easily supposed, this assemblage
of qualities, at once the most solid and attractive that I ever
knew, was little comprehended by the generality of mankind. That
noble independence which disdains the tricking arts of popularity,
and _dares_ to walk alone, was miscalled pride. The elegant
retirement of a mind replete with resources, and too refined to
consider as society what was not congenial companionship, was,
with equal departure from just discrimination, styled misanthropy,
while sensibility, which with magic touch can raise aërial hosts
of imagery; and straying over the sacred expanse of time gone by,
and yet to come, sighs to the memory of the past, or o'er the
uncertainty of the future: this was _selfishness_, according to
vulgar interpretation. But vice and folly are compelled to pay the
reluctant homage of an involuntary respect at the shrine of virtue,
and collective excellence is always sure to receive its tribute,
however incapable the mass of mankind may prove to appreciate the
individual beauties of a character which they do not understand.
_Such_ tribute was paid in large proportion to my friend; and while
kindred merit sought his acquaintance with enthusiasm, the _little
world_ were forced to gaze at him with reverence, and look up with
veneration. He is gone! and I never visit this spot, associated
peculiarly with his image, unaccompanied by the recollection of
that epitaph at the Leasowes, the only beautiful testimony of
surviving affection which I remember to have seen, and which seems
as if written for Douglas, and for him alone.
Heu quanto minus est
Cum reliquis versari,
Quàm tui meminisse!"
Mr. Otway paused, and I felt deeply affected by the impressive
manner in which these eloquent lines were repeated. After a short
silence, I told him how greatly I felt indebted for the animated
sketch which he had just given me of a relation whom I had never
till then heard so particularly described. "At Glenalta," said I,
"there is no allusion ever made to my uncle, and I think, that I
have already discovered, even at this distance of time from his
death, that even the name of Henry cannot be pronounced without
causing an inward convulsion of feeling in my aunt. At first I
thought it impossible, but on reading a paragraph to her in the
newspaper yesterday, I perceived a recurrence of such an expression
in her countenance, as determined me to avoid producing it again,
at least by a repetition of the same sound which gave rise to her
present agitation."
"This, my young friend," answered the admirable Otway, "is true
to nature. In those horrible and overwhelming moments of recent
disseverment, when the grave has just closed upon all that lived
in our fondest affections,--when the affrighted spirit glances
round upon the desert wilderness, and the tremendous solitude
is only interrupted by images of despair,--then, _names_ arrest
not the attention. The throbbing heart is wrapped in present
anguish, and the dull ear is dead to sounds; even the shade of the
beloved might float upon the mourner's vision, and not surprise;
but when the first agony of bereavement has settled into the
waking consciousness of our loss, when the astonishment of death
has subsided, when the phantoms of an amazed and distempered
imagination no longer haunt the brain and people our dreams, then
it is that the lonely heart sits in silent abandonment, and even
'the willow that waves in the wind,' terrifies like a ghost of
other times; associations rise, names startle, and in proportion
as distance from the event diminishes the natural _right_ to
sympathy which great misfortunes claim in the first moments of
their visitation, the delicate mind shrinks within itself fearful
of repulse, and would hide its feelings even from the eye of day,
lest it might seem to solicit a participation in those thoughts,
which are too sacred to be shared. Caroline Douglas is not to be
judged of by common-place criteria. When she and the partner of
her affections took up their abode at Glenalta, they presented a
picture of human felicity of which while 'memory holds her seat,'
I shall never lose the most lively impression. Young, and united
by the most perfect attachment, grounded upon an intimate and
mutual acquaintance with disposition, character, sentiments, and
opinions, the highest eulogium which it was possible to pass on
either, might be comprised in one short sentence; they were formed
for each other. Never did I behold two people knit together in
bonds of love so tender, and friendship so rational. Every thought
appeared to be held in common; and when they were conversing, it
seemed as if the lips of one only gave utterance to that which in
the same instant had started into life within the breast of the
other. So perfect was the harmony of their souls, that every idea
which arose in either mind, was caught by the other at a glance,
improved and beautified ere it was reflected back again. In short,
it was impossible that any one whose lot was not already cast,
should enjoy the privilege of their intimacy, without becoming
enamoured of a state capable of producing such celestial happiness
as they were permitted to taste; while in proportion as the mind
was disposed to offer a tribute of _abstract_ homage at the altar
of hymen, the dread of risking individual experiment would
as naturally arise, lest mistaking an exception for the rule,
disappointment should ensue as the fruit of imitation. But there
are very few who marry upon the principles which governed their
union; and to expect similar results from discordant motives, is to
look for grapes on thorns, and figs on thistles. My friends were
mutually attracted by esteem, as well as affection. They did not
join their destinies upon the ground of external vanity, or the
sordid views of worldly aggrandisement. Their's was not a marriage
of two estates; they knew what to desire: they were aware of what
they wanted, and were contented with what they possessed. How often
have I heard them talk of riches and poverty, in this place where
you and I are now sitting! how often heard them agree that a larger
share of fortune's favour might render them less dependent perhaps,
upon each other for happiness, and consequently, diminish the sum
of it; thus would they render privation a subject for gratitude,
through the love that they bore to each other."
"What a picture of earthly bliss," said I, "have you drawn, and
what a separation was that of two beings so united!"
"Aye, it was indeed a picture worth going any distance to gaze
upon! It was a lesson never to be forgotten. Minds like those
which I have been attempting to describe, possess the art of
harmonizing every thing with which they come in contact in unison
with themselves. True refinement inheres _within_, and no more
derives its character from outward trappings, than heaven's gift
of symmetry owes its fair proportions to the fringes with which
fashion encumbers its beauty. In a cottage where luxury never
visited, inborn elegance fixed her abode. A favorite author of
mine says, that if death were considered stripped of the dreadful
paraphernalia which generally attends its mournful presence, half
its horrors would be annihilated. Of poverty, we may say the same.
Vulgar people bring the machinery of life in all its ugliness
and indelicacy before you. It is not whether your tables are of
mahogany or deal; your dishes of china or delft which distinguishes
_refinement_ from its opposite. It is the soul that presides at
the banquet. All this was so instinctively understood, by these
pattern specimens of human nature, that dignity and ease, polish
and simplicity, were the never-failing companions of their humble
home. It is a theme which makes me forgetful of time. We will now
bend our steps towards Lisfarne."
As we rose, he continued:--
"Over the misery which succeeded, I must, like Timanthes of
old, draw a veil, for it was too painful to contemplate, even
in painting. Douglas was snatched in the prime of life from the
beloved of his bosom, from whom to part was the only anguish
which religion had not yet taught him to endure with heavenly
resignation. Even this bitter draught he learned at length to drink
with Christian fortitude. No language could describe the scene of
sorrow that I witnessed afterwards; but years have rolled away;
the dear survivor lives to be a blessing still; and while with
cheerfulness she can now mingle in the innocent gaieties of her
children, her heart is set on heaven where she hopes for re-union
with the only loved of earth."
Here ended a recital which I felt deeply interesting, partly
perhaps because the actors in this sad tale were my nearest
relations, and partly too on account of the noble characters which
it pourtrayed. Falkland, I am growing serious in this place, and
shall lose my spirits if I stay much longer here.
As we turned from the _sacred_ promontory, Mr. Otway playfully
shook my elbow, and, by a sudden change in the modulation of his
voice, made me feel that we were not to dwell any longer on the
topic which had occupied the preceeding hour. At his request I gave
him a history of my _life and adventures_. We talked of you, and
I so completely _fired_ him by my subject, that he has taken your
address, and means immediately to write to young Stanhope who, with
his tutor, (a nephew, by the bye of Oliphant's) is to be at Pisa
about the time of your arrival there, to make your acquaintance
with all suitable activity. Mr. Otway gives a good character of his
ward, so that probably you may find him worth knowing; but if not
for his own sake, you will I am assured _fly to the meeting_ for
the sake of your romance; and consider the youth as a link in that
mysterious _concatenation_, by which your fate _or_ your fancy is
bound to Glenalta.
Before we re-entered the house, Mr. Otway desired me to follow him
down a winding-path, at the end of which I found myself within a
nice little enclosure, sheltered by a hawthorn hedge which was
bursting into a sheet of fragrant blossoms. "This is my botanic
garden," said my companion, "and I must not forget to send Fanny
some plants which I promised her. Here, Howard, help me to take
these to the gardener, and he shall send them over to my little
pupil."
"I will take them myself in the evening," said I, "and shall have
the benefit of appearing very learned, if you will tell me their
names. Emily has extracted a promise from me in our walk from the
mountain this morning, to put myself under her tuition while I
remain in these flowery regions, so the sooner I begin my task the
better."
"You are very right," replied 'mine host;' "knowledge is never a
burthen; and when the news of London is once told, and the stimulus
of novelty wears off, we shall then feel the full value of such
pursuits as at once sustain social communion, exercise common
curiosity, and employ the powers of the understanding."
"You told me this morning, Mr. Otway, that you think the mania
for education is outrunning its natural progress; and that it is
the fashion at present to overleap the barrier of prudence in a
premature and forced extension of learning. May I not urge your
zeal in favour of female cultivation as somewhat inconsistent
with this theory? Setting all jocularity aside, and banishing
_nicknames_, as you call them, from our inquiry, will you tell me
if utility be the measure by which you ascertain and determine
the question of what possible use is education, beyond the polite
limits of fashionable acquirement amongst the higher orders, and
the necessary qualifications for a housewife in the lower classes?
Can women keep schools for our youth? Can women occupy professors'
chairs? Are women called upon to write works of science? In short,
do women ever _want_ all this lore? and if not, might not their
time be more valuably employed in cultivating the delightful arts
of pleasing? I confess to you," added I, "that I have a little
scheme of trying to save Fanny, who is as yet a child, and a very
engaging one too, from going through the ordeal which her sisters
have passed. They are sweet girls, and certainly have contributed
to soften my prejudices exceedingly against learned ladies. Still,
however, it is a pity not to spare Fanny the trouble as well as the
hazard of becoming one. _You_ are so looked up to at Glenalta, that
if you are on the opposition benches I may despair of a majority,
so pray answer me seriously."
"I will, indeed," answered Phil, "though I cannot help laughing at
your pity and intended kindness, for which, however the _motive_
may secure your pardon, my little Fan would certainly not thank
you as gratefully as you expect. To answer your question will in
no wise perplex me. Utility is a test by which I am very well
satisfied to abide; and, if we try the matter at present in debate
by that rule, I think I shall be able to convince you, that unless
in _our_ sex education is to lower its tone, or be neglected, there
can be no doubt of the advantage which would be gained by the solid
instruction of the female world. You grant that it is to women we
ought to look for all that is most valuable in first impressions.
Boys rarely quit their homes before ten years of age, and girls,
not generally speaking, till they marry. It seems then to require
no argument to prove, that upon a mother's being fond of her home,
and satisfied with the pleasures of her domestic fire-side, must
depend an _inclination_ to give up society abroad for the good
of her family; at least you will grant, without difficulty that,
though a sense of duty may do much with the truly conscientious,
the union of duty and inclination will work double tides--so far we
must be agreed. Now the question which remains is, _how_ the love
of home may be produced, and here I should have no hesitation in
saying, by a marriage, in which the greatest portion of sympathy
can be found, and, consequently, the greatest number of common
pursuits. The amusements of young men at the present day--I mean
the majority are such as no female can join in--hunting, shooting,
horse-racing, pugilism, rowing matches, are diversions exclusively
appertaining to the mass of our male population of the gentry
class. Now we will, if you please, suppose two families:--the first
shall be composed of a Gentleman, who has been bred at one of the
great schools without making a figure in scholarship of any kind,
and who, having passed through the University in a manner equally
undistinguished, and vapoured at balls, concerts, and parties, lost
his money at play, and gone the rounds of fashionable dissipation,
marries at length to repair his fortune and improve his interest;
and a young Lady who plays on the harp and piano forte, draws a
little, dances and dresses according to the last French receipt.
This happy pair set up an establishment. If rich, they live in a
whirl of company, sometimes at home, but more frequently abroad.
When children come, they are committed to the care of servants and
the nursery governess, till a time arrives for sending the boys to
school, and exchanging the humble services of the infant teacher
for the _Ma'amoiselle_, who, more like a dancing dog than a human
being, takes charge of the girls, and becomes the guardian of
their religion, morals, and manners! Perhaps you interrupt me, ere
my conclusion be drawn, to observe that this representation only
applies to what are called the higher circles. Very well--be it
so; you shall have the advantage of a second statement upon _your_
side before I contrast it with _my_ view of the subject. Let us
suppose a Gentleman of a thousand a year, or a Professional man,
the former may, or may not, have profited more by his school and
collegiate course than the man of fashion. The latter is obliged
to plod his weary way through law or physic for his daily bread.
These Gentlemen marry, and, according to the present modes of
female education, are not likely to be much happier than our former
Benedick; for a young Lady, now-a-days, whose fortune is no more
than a thousand pounds, learns exactly the same things which are
taught to the daughters of a Duke; and it depends upon original
genius whether her accomplishments be more or less shining than
those of her more splendid models. But music and drawing, however
well performed, can enter but a little way into the happiness of a
fire-side in the country, or that of a Barrister or Physician in
town, when compared with the comforts which _might_ result from a
different order of things. Take a peep now into a _menage_, such as
I wish were not too often to be found only in an air-built castle."
"Imagine a well-educated man, who, not stopping at the animal
qualifications of eating, drinking, boxing, and fox-hunting, has
cultivated his mind, and acquired a taste for literature, will
not such a man be likely to enjoy more happiness at home, if he
has a companion capable of participating in his most rational
gratifications? Will a sensible man admire an amiable woman
less, because in addition to whatever personal qualities may
have endeared her to his affections, she is possessed of solidly
useful knowledge which she is capable of imparting to her
offspring? Surely not; to maintain the contrary, would be to pass
the severest censure on our sex. A woman is neither less pretty,
less elegant, less kind, nor less accomplished of _necessity_,
because she has read and loves reading; and, considering her _own_
happiness, can there be any question respecting the advantage of
books as a source of amusement as well as usefulness, above all
the lighter acquirements above enumerated? The former pass away
with the careless gaiety of youth. The rising generation steps
close upon the heels of that which has immediately preceded it;
and as novelty is the very essence of fashion, the singing which
has been heard, and the dancing which has been seen for a few
successive winters cease to charm, and newer attractions occupy
the stage. How much would the respect of children towards their
mothers be increased, were women, generally speaking, capable of
taking part in the instruction of a family, attending to their
interests, exercising a sound judgment on their progress, and
accompanying their pursuits! Reflect upon the numbers who are left
widows to guide sons, as well as daughters, through the thorny
paths of life? Is it of no importance that a woman, whom it has
pleased God to make the solitary guardian of a youthful progeny,
should place her affections on higher objects than dress, cards,
theatres? Is it of no use that she should be able to direct the
eternal interests of her children, and watch, as a careful nurse,
over their temporal welfare? And will she be less the object of
veneration and love, because every hour of the day presents some
variety of cheerful companionship, where utility and pleasure go
hand in hand, and knowledge is delightful, because associated with
maternal tenderness? Believe not such untruths, my dear Howard, and
if you ever marry, beware of those idle butterflies who, having
skimmed through a summer's day, flutter their fading wings and are
forgotten. Such women are, indeed, but children of a larger growth,
and totally unfit for the responsibility which devolves upon them.
But do not suppose that by a sweeping clause, as false as it would
be uncharitable, I mean to include the _entire_ world of fashion
in the denunciation which I have pronounced against modern modes
and manners. There are some beautiful exceptions, which not only
have escaped contagion, but which illustrate my position by being
themselves amongst its brightest examples. It is the _general_
evil of which I complain, and unless women will stand their _own_
friends, and resist the tyranny of opinion which, if it proceed
much farther in its present course, bids fair to deprive them of
those faculties which Heaven has bountifully bestowed, they may
rest assured that their power will daily decline; both sexes will
degenerate, and the rude supremacy of physical strength will be at
last resorted to, to complete female subjugation, and bring the
civilized world again to a state of barbarism from which it will
slowly emerge."
Just as I was going to reply, a servant announced Mr. Bentley.
A young man entered the room, and we were ere long summoned to
dinner. Nothing could be more agreeable than the trio. You see that
I include myself in the compliment to our good humour, ease, and
festivity. Phil. is an extraordinary man, and I am much _taken_
with him. He is a perfect Encyclopedia, as little Fanny called him,
and literally seems to know every thing; but so absolutely is he
divested of the pomps and ceremony of literature, that it is only
by the fulness of your own mind, and the number of new ideas that
you find in your brain, that you discover the superiority of him
from whom you have derived such accession to your thoughts. We ate,
drank, and were merry.
Bentley is a very sensible young man, and a near neigbour of Mr.
Otway's.
I suppose that I must tell you what we talked of. Well, I am
patiently going through my task of _minute_ narrative in the
beginning; but by the time that you are acquainted with the
characters around me, through these my _masterly_ sketches you
must prepare to take your leave of such reports. I shall write
regularly, and mention whatever incidents may occur; but to hold
on in this method, of repeating every word that is uttered, would
be more than flesh and blood are equal to. Besides, should money
fall short, you may take advantage of me, and make a book out of
these my voluminous materials. Thus forestalling, for all you can
possibly tell, my intentions of giving so many sapient observations
as I have committed to paper, one day myself to the world.
Well, but you want to know who Bentley is, and what we talked
about. As to who a young man, living in the county of Kerry in
Ireland, may be, I am not quite ready to answer though _faute
d'autres sujets_, I shall inquire more concerning him; perhaps
somewhat more determined in my design so to do, from having
remarked a scarlet blush pass over his cheek at dinner when
Charlotte's name was mentioned.
In these back settlements there is nothing to do, but exercise the
skill of a calm observer; and I expect to be quite _au fait_ as a
critic in every thing appertaining to countenance, by the time that
I return to the world. As to conversation we had a great deal of
one sort or other. Some politics, some anecdote, some I know not
what, pleasant enough, but nothing striking. I remember only two
remarks that I shall take the trouble of exporting to Pisa. We
were speaking of Scott's Novels (for I take the liberty of calling
them his, notwithstanding all the denials which are cited to prove
the contrary[A]) and I instanced these and some other works of
fiction which are justly celebrated, and of recent publication, to
support my opinion, that the present genius of literature stands
upon a lofty pedestal in comparison with former times, adding
"what can be a stronger argument in favour of modern wisdom than
that _such_ books are the recreation of our contemporaries?" A
stranger just set down in England might naturally say, if this be
_amusement_, what are the _serious_ studies in this country? And
if, as some writer has said, "tell me your diversions, and I'll
tell you what you are," carry any weight, we may fairly claim to
high pre-eminence."
[Footnote A: The authorship of the Novels has been avowed by Sir
Walter Scott since this letter was written.]