From this time, Matilda felt as if her heart was lightened of a heavy load,
and she looked up to Mr. and Mrs. Harewood as friends, whom it was her duty
to obey and her privilege to love; and to the children, as brothers, whose
pleasures were as dear to her as her own; and the warmth and openness of
her temper naturally led her to display more than usual friendship,
wherever she professed it at all. Happily, with all her faults, she was
neither mean, artful, nor deceitful; so that the worst part of her
disposition lay open to the observation of those good friends, who, like
skilful physicians, only wounded to cure her.
The errors of Matilda were those which never fail to attach to extreme
indulgence--pride, impetuosity, haughtiness, insolence, and idleness.
Accustomed to consider all around her as born for her use and amusement,
she commanded where she should have entreated, and resisted where she ought
to have obeyed; but when she found that her wealth, power, and consequence
were unknown, or utterly disregarded, and that she could only be esteemed
for her good qualities, even her self-love tended to cure her of her
idleness; and instead of drawling out--"Zebby, bring me this," "You fool,
fetch me the other," she administered to her own wants, and obtained her
wishes at so much less expense than she had once thought possible, that
even her own convenience taught her the wisdom of waiting upon herself.
She imputed the change, which could not fail to be remarked, to the
climate--and unquestionably it is more easy and pleasant to be active in
a cold country, than a hot one; but her friends were well aware that the
change in her mind was greater than that of her country, and they forwarded
this happy effect, by rendering the studies in which she engaged as
delightful to her as possible, in order that, by prosecuting them, she
might become less liable to rest her happiness on the vain pomp, useless
show, and tyrannical power, which were wont to delight her.
As, however, all bad habits are slowly eradicated, and it by no means
follows that even the error we have lamented and acknowledged should be so
torn from the heart that no traces remain, so it would happen, from time to
time, that Matilda would fly into violent passions with the servants around
her, as with her young companions; and even when these were suppressed, she
was apt to give herself airs of importance, and descant on the privileges
she enjoyed in her own country, where she was fanned when she was hot, by
slaves upon their knees, and borne about in a stately palanquin; where the
most exquisite fruits were continually presented to court her palate, and
the most costly dresses that money could procure purchased to please her;
where every slave trembled at her anger, or rejoiced in her smile; and
where she would one day return to reign as absolute as an empress.
"Well," said Ellen, one night, as this conversation took place in the
play-room, "I must own I should like to live at Barbadoes for one thing--I
should like to set all the slaves at liberty, and dress their little
children, and make all happy; as to all the other _good_ things and _grand_
things, I really think we have quite sufficient of them at home; for I
suppose there are no more books nor charities in your country than ours,
Matilda; and surely there can be no greater pleasure in this world, than
reading the 'Parent's Assistant,' and giving clothes and food to poor
children when they are really hungry and starving?"
"Certainly not," cried Charles; "depend upon it, Ellen, England is the
finest land in the world; and though I should like to see oranges and
pine-apples grow, I confess, and the poor slaves at their merry meeting,
all dancing away, with their woolly heads and white teeth, as happy as
princes, yet, depend upon it, there is nothing else half so beautiful as
with us. England is unquestionably the most beautiful, excellent, rich,
delightful country upon the globe."
As Charles spoke, he fixed his eyes upon Edmund; for although the ardour of
his spirits rendered him a great dealer in positive assertions, he was yet
so conscious of his inferiority in knowledge to his eldest brother, that he
seldom felt satisfied with them, unless they were stamped by his brother's
approbation.
Edmund, in answer to his appealing eye, said--"I am as well convinced as
you can be, Charles, that England combines more advantages than any other
country, and that we either have in ourselves, or obtain from other
countries, whatever is most worthy of possession; and the two good things
which Ellen considers the greatest pleasures of existence, are undoubtedly
to be had here in perfection; but I must own I should like to see Barbadoes
prodigiously, for a property which none of you have yet mentioned."
"What, have not _I_ mentioned it?" said Matilda.
"No, Matilda; you have been so much taken up with fine verandas, grand
dinners, kneeling slaves, luxurious palanquins, orange groves, and
delicious sweetmeats, that you have never once boasted of your pure air,
and the glories of your evening sky, where all the planets shine with such
a glowing lustre, that, Mr. Edwards tells us, Venus is there a kind of
moon, in the light she sheds upon the earth, and those stars which are
scarcely to be discerned here, are beheld in that enchanting air as bright
as the stars of Orion with us."
"Well," cried Charles, "that must all be because Barbadoes, and the other
West India islands, are so much nearer the sun, and I cannot say I have any
desire to be in such a hot neighbourhood."
"No, Charles, that is not the reason; for although it is the fact, yet you
cannot suppose that their difference can be perceptible, in that respect,
to those heavenly bodies which appear to resemble only diamond sparks, from
their immense distance. The brilliancy of which I speak arises from the
greater purity of the air: we frequently see objects here through a kind of
veil, which, though too thin to be perceptible, has yet its effect upon all
objects: in some cases it alters, or rather bestows, a colour which does
not properly belong to them; frequently impairs their form and beauty, but
sometimes adds to their sublimity, and invests them with imposing
greatness, proportioned to the obscurity with which they are enveloped."
"I don't understand all that Edmund says," observed Ellen, "but I should
be glad to know whether something is not the matter with the sun when it
looks copper-colour like the lid of a stewpan; because in summer-time, I
remember, when we were out in the fields, it used to be bright golden
yellow, so glorious and full of shine, as it were, that looking at it, even
for a moment, made my eyes ache, and thousands of black and green spots to
come into them."
"My dear Ellen, though you did not understand all the words I used, it is
yet plain you did comprehend the sense, as you have brought forward an
example of this effect of the atmosphere, which we all witness every day;
the fogs and exhalations through which we view the sun are the cause of
that dingy appearance you remark: and even in the summer-time, as the sun
descends, you may perceive he becomes more and more red and dark as he
approaches the horizon. I have therefore no doubt but the veil, or vapoury
substance, of which I speak, is but a little distance from the earth; for I
observe, that as the sun rises into the heavens, he grows more brilliant
from surmounting this veil."
"Did you find this out of yourself, Edmund?"
"I noticed it one day to papa, and he explained it; he told me, too, that
all the beautiful variety of colours which we observe in the setting sun
must be imputed to this cause; he taught me at the same time to distinguish
shadows in the water by reflection, and those which are refracted, and many
other things, which rendered me much more delighted with the country than I
had ever been before, and more fond of dear papa for taking the trouble to
inform me."
"Well then," said Ellen, "when we go down to Richmond next summer, you must
explain every thing to us, and we will love you better than ever, dear
Edmund; and I will say the Ode to Eton College to you in my very best
manner; perhaps Matilda will be able to say it before then, and----"
"Go on, Ellen."
"I want to know--_we_ want to know what it means in that poem, where it
says,
'Grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade.'
What is a holy shade, Edmund?"
"It is a poetical expression, my dear, meaning that we of the present day
are grateful to the founder, Henry the Sixth, who was a religious, and
probably a learned man, although very unfortunate as a king."
"Oh," cried Ellen, "I remember all about him; he was deposed by Edward the
Fourth, whose two sons were afterwards murdered in the Tower by their
wicked uncle, Richard the Third."
"I remember _that_," said Matilda, timidly, yet with that kind of pleasure
which indicated a sense of approaching her superior in knowledge, and being
sensible that this was the only kind of superiority worth possessing.
Scarcely, however, had she spoken, when Charles, throwing himself into a
theatrical attitude, exclaimed--"Ay! but do you remember the man that
looked like _him_--to this same Henry, '_Who drew Priam's curtains in the
dead of night, and would have told him half his Troy was burnt?_'"
"No, indeed," said both the girls, staring.
Charles burst into a loud laugh at their innocent surprise at his violent
gesticulation and grimace.
"I know what you mean," said Ellen, rather poutingly; "yes, I know it very
well, though I don't choose to talk about things of that kind, because I
have always been told that none but ignorant and foolish people did so."
"But I entreat you," said Charles, "to tell me what you think I mean, for I
am sure you surprise me now as much as I did you."
"Why, I suppose Henry's holy shade means spirit, and it was that which
drew Priam's curtains in the dead of night, (or which he thought did,)
though it was probably only the housemaid."
Again Charles burst into an immoderate fit of laughter,
exclaiming--"Housemaid! admirable! upon my word, Ellen, you have found a
personage in the old king's establishment Homer never thought of."
"I never read Homer," said Ellen, simply.
"No, child, you need not tell us that," continued Charles, most provokingly
continuing to laugh, until poor Ellen was completely disconcerted, and
looked in the face of Edmund with such an appealing air, that he assumed a
look of much more serious remonstrance than was usual as he thus addressed
his brother--"You may laugh as long as you please, sir, but your whole
conduct in this affair has shown so much less knowledge, as well as good
sense, than Ellen herself has displayed, that really I should not wonder
if a moment's recollection made you cry as heartily as you now laugh."
"Indeed!" said Charles, suddenly stopping.
"Yes, _indeed_! In the first place, there can be surely no doubt but you
and I have read a great deal more than the girls, and could at any time
puzzle and distress them by various quotations; but when they make
inquiries to increase their own stock of knowledge, it is our duty, and
ought to be our pleasure, to give them information, not confusion, which
you evidently intended to do; besides, it is rude, almost inhuman, to
oppress any person, even by the possession of that which is in itself
praiseworthy; and as the end of all conversation is, or ought to be,
improvement, a person who in any manner checks the spirit of inquiry and
free discussion, hinders that end. We all know that English history is all
that Ellen has dipped into, and in the little she presumed to utter on the
subject, she was perfectly correct; whereas you, in your exhibition of
more reading, made a palpable error, since Homer names maids repeatedly as
belonging to the palace, and we cannot doubt their being employed as our
housemaids are, since their offices are often particularized."
"A mighty piece of work, truly," said Charles, "for just quoting two lines
of Shakspeare!"
"No, no, Charles, 'tis not for the quotation, but the manner, and you
cannot but see yourself how erroneous an idea was taken up in consequence;
how often does papa say people can never be too plain and simple, too
downright and unequivocal, in their explanations to children, otherwise
they plant words rather than ideas in their minds, and create a confusion
which it may take many a year of after-thought to unravel?"
"I was very foolish," said Charles, looking at Ellen with the air of one
that wondered how it had been possible to give pain to that little gentle
heart, which sought only to bestow pleasure on all around it. He was about
to speak, but before he had time, his fond sister had read his heart, and
throwing her arms around his neck, she exclaimed--"I know you meant
nothing, dear Charles; no, I know you didn't; only you are so fond of
being funny."
The eyes of Charles did indeed now twinkle with a tear; and Matilda, who
was quick to discern, and acute in all her feelings, was much affected.
When they retired, she revolved all the conversation in her mind; she saw
clearly that virtue and knowledge were the only passports to happiness; and
the remembrance of her mother's desire to teach her various things, which
she had either shunned from idleness, or rejected with insolence and
ill-humour, rose to her mind; and the unhappy indulgence of her father
appeared to her in far different colours to what she had ever beheld it.
She became frequently disturbed, and full of painful reflection; yet she
evidently took much pains in attaining knowledge of the task assigned her,
and in conquering those risings of temper which were become inherent in her
mind. Notwithstanding her frequent fits of abstraction, in which it was
evident some great grief was uppermost in her mind, yet, as her nature led
her to be communicative, and she was never subject to be sullen, the family
did not press her to reveal her trouble, thinking that at the proper time
she would repose confidence in them; and accordingly, as she sat one day
alone with Mrs. Harewood, the following conversation took place between
them.