company by people who appeared most desirous of being in her parties.
And indeed it was capable of being so; the extreme endeavour to shine
took off from that ease in conversation which is its greatest charm.
Every person was like a bent bow, ready to shoot forth an arrow which
had no sooner darted to the other side of the room, than it fell to the
ground and the next person picked it up and made a new shot with it.
Like the brisk lightning in the Rehearsal, they gave flash for flash;
and they were continually striving whose wit should go off with the
greatest report. Lady Mary, who had naturally a great deal of vivacity
and a sufficient share of wit, made no bad figure in the brilliant
assembly; for though she perceived an absurdity in these mock skirmishes
of genius, yet she thought proper to conform to her company; but saw
plainly that a sprightly look and lively elocution made the chief merit
of the best _bons mots_ that were uttered among them.
After she had spent about five years with Lady Brumpton, this lady was
seized with a nervous fever which all the art of her physicians could
not entirely conquer. Her spirits were extremely affected and her
friends decreased in their attentions as her vivacity decayed. She had
indeed always been superior to her company in every requisite to please
and entertain, therefore when she could not bear her part the
conversations flagged; they dwindled from something like wit into oddity
and then sunk into dullness. She was no longer equally qualified to
please or to be pleased; her mind was not at unison with shallow jesters
and therefore they could make no harmony.
Her disorder wore her extremely and turned to an atrophy. In that
gradual decay she often told Lady Mary she was awakened from a dream of
vanity; she saw how much a desire to gain the applause of a few people
had made her forget the more necessary aim of obtaining the approbation
of her Creator. She had indeed no criminal actions to lay to her charge;
but how should she? Vanity preserved her from doing anything which she
imagined would expose her to censure. She had done some things
commendable, but she feared the desire of being commended was part of
her motive. The humility and calmness of a true Christian disposition
had appeared to her meanness of spirit or affectation, and a religious
life as the extremest dullness; but now too late she saw her error, and
was sensible she had never been in the path of happiness. She had not
erred from want of knowledge, but from the strong impulse of vanity
which led her to neglect it; but sickness, by lowering her spirits, had
taken away the false glare which dazzled her eyes, and restored her to
her sight.
Lady Brumpton was sensible of her approaching death some weeks before
she expired, and was perfectly resigned. Lady Mary had a second time the
melancholy office of closing the eyes of a benefactress and relation
whom she sincerely loved. Lady Brumpton, to remove from her any anxiety
on her own account, acquainted her, as soon as her disease became
desperate, that she had bequeathed her ten thousand pounds, and all her
plate and jewels.
Lady Mary found this information true, and received the sum. She was
tenderly concerned for the loss of so good a friend; and by the various
circumstances of her life and the many blessings bestowed on her, had a
heart so touched with the greatness of divine mercy that her mind took a
more serious turn than common; and tired of the multitude in which she
had so long lived, she was seeking for a retirement when she met Mrs
Morgan and Miss Mancel at Tunbridge; and as I have already told you,
came hither with them.
Mrs Maynard was not a little wearied with so long a narrative, and
therefore did not continue much longer with us; but Lamont and I
remained in the park till dinner.
In the afternoon the ladies proposed we should go upon the water, a
scheme very agreeable to us all; some of the inhabitants of the other
community were of the party. We got into a very neat boat, of a size
sufficient to contain a large company, and which was rowed by the
servants of the family. We went about three miles up the river, with
great pleasure, and landed just by a neat house where we understood we
were to drink tea. The mistress of it received us with great joy and
told the ladies she had longed to see them, their young folks having
quite finished her house, which she begged leave to shew us. Its extreme
neatness rendered it an object worthy of observation; and I was
particularly attentive as, its size suiting my plan of life, I
determined to copy it.
The rooms were neither large nor numerous, but most of them hung with
paper and prettily adorned. There were several very good drawings framed
with shells, elegantly put together; and a couple of cabinets designed
for use, but they became ornamental by being painted and seaweeds stuck
thereon, which by their variety and the happy disposition of them
rendered the doors and each of the drawers a distinct landscape. Many
other little pieces of furniture were by the same art made very pretty
and curious. I learnt in a whisper from Mrs Maynard that this
gentlewoman was widow to the late minister of the parish and was left at
his death with five small children in very bad circumstances. The ladies
of Millenium Hall immediately raised her drooping spirits, settled an
income upon her, took this house, furnished it and lent her some of
their girls to assist in making up the furniture, and decorating it,
according to the good woman's taste. She carried us into her little
garden that was neat to an excess and filled with flowers, which we
found some of her children tying up and putting in order while the
younger were playing about, all dressed with the same exact neatness as
herself.
When we had performed this little progress we found tea ready, and spent
the afternoon with greater pleasure, for observing the high
gratification which this visit seemed to afford the mistress of the
house. In the room where we sat was a bookcase well stocked; my
curiosity was great to see what it contained, and one of the ladies to
whom I mentioned it indulged me by opening it herself and looking at
some of the books. I found they consisted of some excellent treatises of
divinity, several little things published for the use of children and
calculated to instil piety and knowledge into their infant minds, with a
collection of our best periodical papers for the amusement of lighter
hours. Most of these books, I found, were Miss Mancel's presents.
The fineness of the evening made our return very delightful, and we had
time for a little concert before supper.
The next morning I called up Lamont very early and reminded the
housekeeper of her promise of shewing us the schools; which she readily
performing, conducted us first to a very large cottage or rather five or
six cottages laid together. Here we found about fifty girls, clad in a
very neat uniform and perfectly clean, already seated at their
respective businesses. Some writing, others casting accounts, some
learning lessons by heart, several employed in various sorts of
needlework, a few spinning and others knitting, with two
schoolmistresses to inspect them. The schoolroom was very large and
perfectly clean, the forms and chairs they sat on were of wood as white
as possible; on shelves were wooden bowls and trenchers equally white,
and shining pewter and brass seemed the ornaments of one side of the
room; while pieces of the children's work of various kinds decorated the
other; little samples of their performances being thus exhibited as
encouragement to their ingenuity.
I asked many questions as to their education and learnt that they are
bred up in the strictest piety; the ladies by various schemes and many
little compositions of their own endeavour to inculcate the purest
principles in their tender minds. They all by turns exercise themselves
in the several employments which we saw going forward, that they may
have various means of gaining their subsistence in case any accident
should deprive them of the power of pursuing any particular part of
their business. The ladies watch their geniuses with great care; and
breed them up to those things which seem most suitable to the turn of
their minds. When any are designed for service, they are taught the
business of the place they are best fitted for by coming down to the
hall and performing the necessary offices under the direction of the
excellent servants there.
A very large kitchen garden belongs to the house, which is divided into
as many parts as there are scholars; to weed and keep this in order is
made their principal recreation; and by the notice taken of it they are
taught to vie with each other which shall best acquit themselves, so
that perhaps never was a garden so neat. They likewise have no small
share in keeping those at the hall in order; and the grotto and seats
are chiefly their workmanship.
I gave them due praise upon their performances at the clergyman's
widow's, and delighted two of them very much by my admiration of a
little arbour which they had there planted with woodbines and other
sweet shrubs. In their own garden they are allowed the indulgence of any
little whim which takes not up too much room; and it is pretty to see
their little seats, their arbours and beds of flowers, according to
their several tastes. As soon as school breaks up, they run with as much
eagerness and joy to their garden, as other children do to their
childish sports; and their highest pleasure is the approbation their
patronesses give their performances. They likewise take it by turns to
do the business of the house and emulation excites them to a cleanliness
which could not by any other means be preserved.
From this school we went to one instituted for boys, which consisted of
about half the number, and most of them small, as they are dismissed to
labour as soon as they are able to perform any work, except
incapacitated by ill health. This is instituted on much the same
principles as the other, and every boy of five years old has his little
spade and rake which he is taught to exercise.
We returned from our little tour in time enough for prayers, with minds
well prepared for them, by the view of such noble fruits of real piety.
Indeed the steward who reads them does it with such extreme propriety
and such humble and sincere devotion as is alone sufficient to fix the
attention and warm the hearts of his hearers.
After breakfast was over, we got Mrs Maynard to accompany us into the
garden, she in complaisance to us abstaining while we were at the hall
from her share in the daily visits the ladies pay to their several
institutions, and to the poor and sick in their village. Their
employments are great, but their days are proportionable; for they are
always up by five o'clock, and by their example the people in the
village rise equally early; at that hour one sees them all engaged in
their several businesses with an assiduity which in other places is not
awakened till much later.
I called on Mrs Maynard to continue her task, which without any previous
ceremony she did as follows.
THE HISTORY OF Miss SELVYN
Mr Selvyn, the younger brother of an ancient family, whose fortune was
inferior to the rank it held in the country where it had long been
fixed, was placed in trade in London; but his success not answering his
hopes, he gave it up before it was too late to secure himself a small
subsistence and retired into the country when Miss Selvyn was about five
years old. His wife had been dead two years; thus his little girl's
education devolved entirely on himself.
He bred her up genteelly, though his fortune was small, and as he was
well qualified for the part became himself her tutor and executed that
office so well that at twelve years old she excelled all the young
ladies in the neighbourhood of her own age in French and writing, either
for hand or style; and in the great propriety and grace with which she
read English. She had no small knowledge of accounts and had made some
progress in the study of history. Her person was elegant and pleasing
and her temper and manner perfectly engaging; but yet these charms could
not induce the neighbouring families to forgive her for excelling other
girls in her accomplishments.
They censured Mr Selvyn for giving his daughter an education to which
her fortune was so little suited, and thought he would have done better
to have bred her up to housewifery and qualified her for the wife of an
honest tradesman; for part of what he had was known to be a life income;
a small sinecure having been procured him by his friends in town before
he retired into the country.
The censures of those who love to shew their own wisdom by blaming
others had little effect on Mr Selvyn; he continued his diligence in
cultivating his little girl's mind; and even taught himself many things
that he might be able to instruct her. If he did not breed her up in a
manner to gain a subsistence by the most usual means, he however
qualified her to subsist on little; he taught her true frugality without
narrowness of mind, and made her see how few of all the expenses the
world ran into were necessary to happiness. He deprived her of all
temptation to purchase pleasures, by instructing her to seek only in
herself for them; and by the various accomplishments he had given her,
prevented that vanity of mind which leads people to seek external
amusements. The day was not sufficient for her employments, therefore
she could not be reduced to trifle away any part of it for fear of its
lying heavy on her hands.
Thus Miss Selvyn was bred a philosopher from her cradle, but was better
instructed in the doctrine of the ancient moralists than in the
principles of Christianity. Mr Selvyn was not absolutely a free-thinker,
he had no vices that made him an enemy to Christianity, nor that pride
which tempts people to contradict a religion generally received; he did
not apprehend that disbelief was a proof of wisdom, nor wished to lessen
the faith of others, but was in himself sceptical; he doubted of what he
could not entirely comprehend and seemed to think those things at least
improbable which were not level to his understanding. He avoided the
subject with Miss Selvyn; he could not teach her what he did not
believe, but chose to leave her free to form that judgement which should
in time seem most rational to her.
I could not forbear interrupting Mrs Maynard to signify my approbation
of Mr Selvyn's conduct in this particular as the only instance I had
ever met with of a candid mind in one who had a tendency towards
infidelity; for 'I never knew any who were not angry with those that
believed more than themselves, and who were not more eager to bring
others over to their opinions than most foreign missionaries; yet surely
nothing can be more absurd, for these men will not dare to say that the
virtues which Christianity requires are not indispensable duties; on the
contrary, they would have us imagine they are most sincerely attached to
them; what advantage then can accrue to any one, from being deprived of
the certainty of a reward for his obedience? If we deny revelation, we
must acknowledge this point to be very uncertain; it was the subject of
dispute and doubt among all the philosophers of antiquity; and we have
but a poor dependence for so great a blessing if we rest our expectation
where they did theirs. Can a man therefore be rendered happier by being
deprived of this certainty? Or can we suppose he will be more virtuous,
because we have removed all the motives that arise from hope and fear?
And yet, what else can excuse an infidel's desire to make converts?
Nothing. Nor can any thing occasion it but a secret consciousness that
he is in the wrong, which tempts him to wish for the countenance of more
associates in his error; this likewise can alone give rise to his
rancour against those who believe more than himself; he feels them a
tacit reproach to him, which to his pride is insupportable.'
'But,' said Lamont, 'do you imagine that a free-thinker may not be
certain of a future state?'
'Not positively,' answered Mrs Maynard. 'If he is certain of that point,
he is a believer without owning it; he must have had his certainty from
Scripture; all the reason he boasts can only shew it probable, and that
probability is loaded with so many difficulties as will much weaken
hope. Where can reason say immortality shall stop? We must allow that
Omnipotence may bestow it on such ranks of being as he pleases. But how
can reason tell us to whom he has given it? Whether to all creation, or
no part of it? Pride indeed makes man claim it for himself, but deny it
to others; and yet the superior intelligence perceivable in some brutes,
to what appears in some of his own species, should raise doubts in him
who has nothing but the reasonings of his own weak brain to go upon. But
to proceed with my subject.'
The minister of the parish wherein Mr Selvyn dwelt was a gentleman of
great learning and strict probity. He had every virtue in the most
amiable degree, and a gentleness and humility of mind which is the most
agreeable characteristic of his profession. He had a strong sense of the
duties of his function and dedicated his whole time to the performance
of them. He did not think his instructions should be confined to the
pulpit; but sensible that the ignorant were much more effectually taught
in familiar conversation than by preaching, he visited frequently the
very poorest of his parishioners; and by the humility of his behaviour
as much as by his bounty (for he distributed a great part of his income
among the necessitous) he gained the affections of the people so
entirely that his advice was all-powerful with them.
This gentleman's great recreation was visiting Mr Selvyn, whose sense
and knowledge rendered his conversation extremely entertaining, and Miss
Selvyn's company was a great addition to the good minister's pleasure,
he took delight in seeing her, as Hamlet says, 'bear her faculties so
meekly'. She was entirely void of conceit and vanity, and did not seem
to have found out that her knowledge exceeded that of most persons of
her age, at least she looked upon it as a casual advantage which
reflected no honour to herself but was entirely owing to Mr Selvyn. Her
youthful cheerfulness enlivened the party without rendering the
conversation less solid; and her amiable disposition made the good
minister particularly anxious for her welfare.
He soon found out Mr Selvyn's scepticism and endeavoured to remove it.
He represented to him that his not being able to understand the most
mysterious parts of Christianity was no argument against the truth of
them. That there were many things in nature whose certainty he by no
means doubted, and yet was totally ignorant of the methods whereby many
of them operated, and even of the use of some of them. Could he say what
purpose the fiery comet answers? How is its motion produced, so regular
in its period, so unequal in its motion, and so eccentric in its course?
Of many other things man is in reality as ignorant, only being able to
form a system which seems to suit in some particulars, he imagines he
has discovered the whole, and will think so till some new system takes
place, and the old one is exploded. He asked Mr Selvyn if they descended
to the meanest objects in what manner could they account for the
polypus's property of supplying that part of its body which shall be cut
away? That insect alone, of all the creation, does not continue maimed
by amputation, but multiplies by it. 'To what can we attribute this
difference in an insect, which in all particulars beside, resembles so
many others? Yet who doubts of the reality of these things? If we cannot
comprehend the smallest works of almighty wisdom, can we expect to
fathom that wisdom itself? And say that such things he cannot do, or
cannot choose because the same effects could be produced by other means?
Man no doubt might exert the same functions under another form, why then
has he this he now wears? Who will not reply, because his Maker chose
it, and chose it as seeing it best. Is not this the proper answer on all
occasions, when the decrees of the Almighty are discussed? Facts only
are obvious to our reason; we must judge of them by the evidence of
their reality if that is sufficient to establish the facts; why, or how
they were produced, is beyond our comprehension. Let us learn that
finite minds cannot judge of infinite wisdom, and confine our reason
within its proper sphere.' By these, and many other arguments, Mr Selvyn
was brought to believe the possibility of what he did not comprehend;
and by this worthy clergyman's care Miss Selvyn was early taught the
truths of Christianity, which though the most necessary of all things,
was at first the only one neglected.
In this retired situation they continued till Miss Selvyn was near
seventeen years old; Mr Selvyn then determined to remove to London; and
taking a small house in Park Street, fixed his abode there. Lady Emilia
Reynolds lived next door and soon after their arrival made them a visit,
a compliment she said, she looked upon as due to so near a neighbour.
Some other ladies in the same street followed her example, and in a very
short time Miss Selvyn was introduced into as large an acquaintance as
was agreeable to her, for she was naturally averse to much dissipation.
Lady Emilia Reynolds was a single lady of very large fortune, her age
upwards of thirty, her person fine, her manner gentle and pleasing, and
an air of dejection did not render her countenance the less engaging.
She was grave and sensible, and kept a great deal of good company,
without entering into a gay way of life. Miss Selvyn's modesty and good
sense seemed to have great charms for her; she cultivated a friendship
with her, notwithstanding some disparity in their ages; and neither of
them appeared so nappy as when they were together.
Mr Selvyn could not be displeased at an intimacy so desirable, nor could
Miss Selvyn be more properly introduced into the world than by a person
of Lady Emilia's respectable character.
At her house Miss Selvyn saw a great deal of good company, and was so
generally liked that many intreated Lady Emilia to bring her to them
whenever her ladyship favoured them with a visit. These invitations were
generally complied with, as under such a protectress Miss Selvyn might
properly venture to any place. Lady Sheerness was one of this number,
whose rank, and some degree of relationship, brought acquainted with
Lady Emilia, though the different turn of their minds and their very
opposite taste of life prevented any intimacy between them. Lady Emilia
was not blind to Lady Sheerness's follies, but she esteemed them objects
of her compassion, not of her censure, nicely circumspect in her own
conduct, she judged with the extremest lenity of the behaviour of
others, ready to attempt excusing them to the world, and not even
suffering herself to blame what she could not approve; she sincerely
pitied Lady Mary Jones, who seemed by fortune sacrificed to folly; and
she was in continual fear lest she should fall a victim to that
imprudence which in her case was almost unavoidable.
By this means Miss Selvyn became acquainted with Lady Mary and was the
young woman I before mentioned as Lady Mary's adviser and conductor, in
putting an end to Lord Robert St George's courtship.
Not long after she had the satisfaction of thus assisting a young lady
whose failings gave her almost as many charms as they robbed her of, she
had the misfortune to lose Mr Selvyn. All that a child could feel for
the loss of a tender parent Miss Selvyn suffered. His death was not so
sudden, but that it afforded him time to settle his affairs, and to give
every direction to Miss Selvyn which he thought might save her from all
embarrassment on the approaching event. He recommended to her, as her
fortune would be but small, to attach herself as much as possible to
Lady Emilia, since she now became still more necessary as a protectress,
than she had before been desirable as a friend, and that interest as
much as gratitude required her cultivating the affection that lady had
already shewn her.
The latter motive was sufficient to influence Miss Selvyn, whose heart
sincerely returned the regard Lady Emilia had for her; but at that time
she was too much affected with Mr Selvyn's approaching dissolution to
think of anything else. His care for her in his last moments still more
endeared him who through life had made her happiness his principal
study. Her affliction was extreme, nor could Lady Emilia by the
tenderest care for some time afford her any consolation.