human nature. Their mode of life and regulations exist nearly in the
same state as established by the founder. In reciting them, such
dreadful perversions of human nature and reason make it almost difficult
to believe the existence of so severe an order, and lead us to wonder at
the artificial miseries which the ingenuity of pious but mistaken
enthusiasm can inflict upon itself.
“The abstinence practised at La Trappe allows not the use of fish, meat,
eggs, nor butter, and a very limited allowance of bread and vegetables.
They eat only twice a day: their meals consist of a slender repast about
eleven in the morning, and two ounces of bread and two raw carrots in
the evening; which, both together, do not at any time exceed twelve
ounces.
“The same spirit of mortification is observed in their cells, which are
very small, and have no other furniture than a bed of boards, a human
skull, and a few religious books. Silence is at all times rigidly
maintained: conversation is never permitted. Should two of them ever be
seen standing near each other, though pursuing their daily labour, and
preserving the strictest silence, it is considered as a violation of
their vow, and highly criminal. Each member is, therefore, as completely
insulated as if he alone existed in the monastery. None but the Père
Abbé knows the name, age, rank, or even the native country, of any
member of the community.
“Every one, at his first entrance, assumes another name; and, with his
former appellation, each is supposed to abjure not only the world, but
every recollection and memorial of himself and his connexions. No word
ever escapes from his lips, by which another could possibly guess who he
is, or where he comes from; and persons of the same name, family, and
neighbourhood, have often lived together in the convent for years,
unknown to each other, without having suspected the proximity.”
“Surely,” said Mrs. Spencer, “the recluse and solitary life of these
mistakenly pious men, is in direct opposition to the precepts of the
sacred volume, which enjoin us to love our neighbour as ourselves. Now
this love appears best to be exemplified by acts of benevolence and
practical kindness. ‘If we would do good to mankind, we must live with
them;’ and the daily and hourly instances of self-denial that we are
called upon to exercise, is surely of more benefit to the mind, than the
most rigid austerity, or the most severe bodily penances.”
“I quite agree with you,” replied Mr. Wilmot: “the very mortifications
they endure may induce self-love, or, I should rather say,
self-righteousness; and nothing, I think it will be generally allowed,
can be more contrary to the tenor of the gospel spirit. Very different
was the conduct of Bernard Palissy, a native of Saintes, in the south of
France, who lived in the reign of Henry the Third. He was a potter by
trade; but, having an innate genius for the sciences, he devoted all the
time he could spare from his pottery, to the cultivation of them.
“The king hearing of him, and curious to see so extraordinary a
character, sent for him to Paris, and had several interviews with him.
Palissy was, by religion, a protestant; and it was thought his religious
principles were the great obstacles to his fortune.
“One day the king told him, unless he would change his religion he
should be compelled to withdraw his protection from him. Palissy heard
the king with the respect due to his rank, but answered with a firm and
dignified tone: ‘Your majesty has frequently told me that you pitied my
case, but since you can say that you shall be compelled to withdraw your
protection from me, I now pity yours. This is not the language of a
king; yet know, Sire, that not the whole faction of the Guises, nor all
the catholic subjects united, shall ever compel a potter of Saintes to
bow the knee to senseless images of wood and stone.’
“The king was so struck with the answer, that he never after mentioned
the subject of changing his religion to Palissy; but suffered him, in a
short time, to return home to his native town, where he remained in
peace to the end of his life. He lived to a great age; never forsaking
his business, nor ceasing, in his moments of leisure to follow his
favourite scientific pursuits.”
“I am admiring,” said Mrs. Spencer, “this figure of Demosthenes
addressing the multitude. What energy and spirit there is in his
action.”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Wilmot; “and every thing that relates to such a
character, is highly interesting, both because it is intimately
connected with the history of the times, and because it is a striking
example of the influence of mind over the greatest physical powers.
Though he neither wore the insignia of royalty, nor presided as supreme
magistrate over a powerful republic, nor commanded fleets and armies;
yet, by the mere thunder of his eloquence, he made the mightiest
monarchs of his day tremble upon their thrones, and roused the
slumbering energies of Greece. He was the son of an opulent Athenian
manufacturer.
“The style of oratory that charmed his youthful fancy, was not the mild
and flowing eloquence of Isocrates, who was then the most celebrated
rhetorician in Athens; but the nervous and impassioned harangues of
Isæus, whose school, as well as that of the philosophical Plato, he
constantly attended.
“It is said, that he made the most determined efforts to conquer some
natural defects which seemed very formidable, and gradually acquired a
dignified and manly eloquence. For a time he secluded himself almost
entirely from society, that he might form his style on the purest
models, and induce a habit of chaste and elegant composition. During
this period, he transcribed the history of the Peloponnesian wars, by
Thucydides, eight times; so desirous was he of acquiring a style of
composition similar to that of the justly-admired historian. But this
was not the only advantage derived from the study of Thucydides. Whilst
employing himself in copying the works of that historian, Demosthenes
imbibed his patriotic spirit; his imagination was filled with the former
glory of his country; a generous indignation was kindled in his bosom,
in comparing the ancient splendour of Athens with its present state of
voluntary degradation; and a noble, but perhaps a romantic ambition
possessed his soul, to be the instrument of renovating a decayed
republic. Animated with these hopes and various prospects, he appeared
in the public assembly; and, in his orations against Philip, poured
forth such a strain of eloquence, that none of the venal orators of
Athens were able to resist.
“The magistrates and common people were borne along by the mighty
torrent, ere they were aware: his audience, instead of finding leisure
or inclination to admire the splendid corruscations of his genius, found
themselves imperceptibly animated by the same patriotic spirit, and
roused from their lethargy by the impassioned vehemence of the youthful
orator. In those unequalled specimens of ancient eloquence, which have
been preserved amid the wreck of ages, we meet with such elevated
sentiments, clothed in such glowing language, that, while reading them
with delight approaching to admiration, we are no longer surprised at
the powerful effect they produced on the popular assemblies of Greece.
We cannot wonder that multitudes should throng from every province, to
hear him declaim on a subject so deeply interesting to their
feelings;—that so many states rose at his hope-inspiring call, from the
slumber of inactivity, or the shades of despair, to make a vigorous
effort for their expiring liberties;—or that Philip should have
confessed, that the eloquence of Demosthenes injured him more than all
the armies and fleets of the Athenians. ‘His harangues,’ said the
Macedonian monarch, ‘are like the machines of war and distant batteries
raised against me, by which all my projects are subverted, and my
enterprises ruined, in spite of all my efforts. I believe,’ continued
that generous adversary, ‘had I been present and listened to his
orations, I should have been the first to conclude on the necessity of
waging war with myself.’
“During the active reigns of Philip and Alexander, Demosthenes sounded a
perpetual alarm, and ceased not to warn his countrymen against yielding
to the ambitious projects of these enterprising monarchs. But when
Antipater obtained possession of Athens, the orator fled to the isle of
Calauria, and took sanctuary in a temple dedicated to Neptune. Fully
persuaded that he had nothing to hope from the clemency of Antipater, he
withdrew into the interior; and, under a pretence of writing to his
family, put a poisoned quill in his mouth, which, in a few minutes,
terminated his mortal existence, and disappointed the meditated
vengeance of his enemies.
“A higher eulogium could scarcely have been pronounced on this prince of
orators, than that which was spoken by Antipater himself, several years
before his death. ‘I regard not,’ said he, ‘the harbours, the fleets,
the armies of the Athenians: Demosthenes alone gives me pain. Without
him, the Athenians would be amongst the most despicable inhabitants of
Greece. He alone inspires and animates them: he rouses them, with his
thundering eloquence, from their slumbers, and puts arms and oars into
their hands, in spite of themselves. He perpetually sets before them the
ancient victories of Marathon and Salamis, and invites them to similar
deeds of valour. Nothing escapes his penetrating mind: he foresees all
our projects—countermines and defeats all our designs: insomuch, that if
Athens confided in his wisdom, and implicity followed his counsels, our
condition were hopeless. No bribe can tempt him: like another Aristides,
he is impenetrable to such overtures: patriotism alone inspires and
actuates him.’ Such was the honourable testimony, borne by an enemy, to
the commanding talents and public virtue of this celebrated orator.”
“How strikingly is St. Paul’s definition,” said Mrs. Spencer, “of that
light and frivolous propensity of the Athenians, which led them to pass
the day only to ‘hear and tell some new thing,’ illustrated by
Plutarch’s relation of the illiterate citizen, who voted Aristides to
the punishment of the ostracism. When that great man questioned his
accuser, whether Aristides had ever injured him, he replied: Far from
it: that he did not even know him; only he was quite tired of hearing
him every where called ‘the just.’ Besides that spirit of envy which is
remarkably displayed in his speech, to have heard this excellent person
calumniated must have been a refreshing novelty, and have enabled him to
tell a new thing.”
Mr. Wilmot smiled and said: “The delicate and refined females of our
favoured country, should feel peculiar thankfulness in comparing their
happy lot with the degraded state of women in the politest ages of
Greece. Condemned to ignorance, labour, and obscurity—excluded from
rational intercourse, debarred from every species of intellectual
improvement or innocent enjoyment, they never seem to have been the
objects of respect or esteem. In the conjugal relation, they were the
servile agents, not the endeared companions of their husbands. Their
depressed state was, in some measure, confirmed by illiberal legal
institutions, and their native genius was systematically restrained from
rising above one degraded level. Such was the lot of the virtuous part
of the sex. I forbear to oppose to this gloomy picture, the profligate
renown to which the bold pretensions of daring vice elevated mercenary
beauty; nor should I glance at this impure topic, but to remind my young
cousins, that _immodesty_ in _dress_, _contempt_ of the _sober duties_
of _domestic_ life, a boundless appetite for pleasure, and a misapplied
devotion to the arts, were among the steps which led to this systematic
profession of shameless profligacy, and to the establishment of those
countenanced corruptions, which raised the more celebrated but infamous
Athenian women to that bad eminence. But, Ann, you are engaged with a
fine historical subject.”
“The death of Pericles, the Athenian general,” said Mrs. Spencer. “Will
you kindly relate to them the particulars of it?”
“Certainly,” replied Mr. Wilmot. “When Pericles was at the point of
death, his surviving friends and the principal citizens, sitting round
his bed, discoursed together concerning his extraordinary virtue, and
the great authority he had enjoyed. They enumerated his various
exploits, and the number of his victories; for, whilst he was commander,
he had erected no less than nine trophies to the honour of Athens. These
things they talked of, supposing that he attended not to what they said,
but that his senses were gone. He took notice, however, of every word
they had spoken, and thereupon delivered himself as follows: ‘I am
surprised, that, while you dwell upon and extol those acts of mine,
though fortune had her share in them, and many other generals have
performed the like, you take no notice of the greatest and most
honourable part of my character; that no Athenian, through my means,
ever put on mourning.’”
“Since you are talking of benefactors to their country,” said Mrs.
Spencer, “allow me to relate a few particulars of Herodes Atticus, an
Athenian citizen, whose munificent gifts would have been worthy of the
greatest king.
“The family of Herod was lineally descended from Cimon and Miltiades,
Theseus and Cecrops, Ægeus and Jupiter; but the posterity of so many
gods and heroes was fallen into the most abject state. His grandfather
had suffered by the hands of justice; and Julius Atticus, his father,
must have ended his life in poverty and contempt, had he not discovered
an immense treasure, buried under an old house, the last remains of his
patrimony.
“According to the rigour of the law, the emperor might have asserted his
claim; and the prudent Atticus prevented, by a frank confession, the
officiousness of informers. But the equitable Nerva, who then filled the
throne, refused to accept any part of it, and commanded him to use,
without scruple, the present of fortune. The cautious Athenian still
insisted that the treasure was too considerable for a citizen, and that
he knew not how to use it. ‘Abuse it, then,’ said the monarch, with a
good-natured peevishness, ‘for it is your own.’
“Many will be of opinion, that Atticus literally obeyed the emperor’s
last instructions, since he expended the greatest part of his fortune,
which was much increased by an advantageous marriage, in the public
service. He had obtained for his son Herod the prefecture of Asia; and
the young magistrate, observing that the town of Troas was but
indifferently supplied with water, obtained from the munificence of
Hadrian three hundred myriads of drachms, (about one hundred thousand
pounds of our money.) But in the execution of the work, the charge
amounted to more than double the estimate; and the officers of the
revenue began to murmur, till the generous Atticus silenced their
complaints, by requesting that he might be permitted to take upon
himself the whole additional expence.
“The ablest preceptors of Greece and Asia had been invited, by liberal
rewards, to direct the education of young Herod. Their pupil soon became
a celebrated orator, according to the useless rhetoric of that age;
which, confining itself to schools, disdained to visit either the forum
or the senate. He was honoured with the consulship at Rome; but the
greatest part of his life was spent in a philosophical retirement, at
Athens and the adjacent villas; perpetually surrounded by sophists, who
acknowledged, without reluctance, the superiority of a rich and generous
rival. The monuments of his genius have perished, but some considerable
ruins still preserve the fame of his taste and munificence.
“Modern travellers have measured the remains of the Stadium which he
constructed at Athens. It was six hundred feet in length, built entirely
of white marble, capable of admitting the whole body of the people; and
was finished in four years, whilst Herod was president of the Athenian
games.
“To the memory of his wife Regilla he dedicated a theatre, scarcely to
be paralleled in the empire: no wood, except cedar very curiously
carved, was employed in any part of the building.
“The Odeum, designed by Pericles for musical performances, and
rehearsals of new tragedies, had been a trophy of the arts over barbaric
greatness, as the timbers employed in the construction consisted chiefly
of the masts of the Persian vessels. Notwithstanding the repairs
bestowed on that ancient edifice by a king of Cappadocia, it was again
fallen to decay. Herod restored its ancient beauty and magnificence.
“Nor was the liberality of that illustrious citizen confined to the
walls of Athens. The most splendid ornaments bestowed on the temple of
Neptune in the Isthmus, a theatre at Corinth, a Stadium at Delphi, a
bath at Thermopylae, and an aqueduct at Canusium in Italy, were even
insufficient to exhaust his treasures.
“The people of Epirus, Thessaly, Eubœa, Bœotia, and Peloponnesus,
experienced his favours; and many inscriptions of the critics of Greece
and Asia, gratefully style Herodes Atticus their patron and benefactor.
“But we have had a long meeting this morning,” said Mr. Wilmot: “let us
adjourn till tomorrow.”
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CONCLUSION.
----------
THE indisposition of Mr. Wilmot on the following day, prevented the
little party from meeting in the gallery as usual. It proved to be an
attack of a very serious nature, which confined him to his room for some
months. Susan and Ann attended him with an assiduity and affection, that
proved his instructions had not been thrown away upon them. At
intervals, they read the books from which his anecdotes had been taken;
and thus became acquainted with the history of their own and other
countries.
The tuition and wise counsel of their sensible mother, had done much to
correct the errors of their dispositions and characters, and to infuse a
love of rational pursuits. The love of dress became a secondary point,
and _neatness_ and _simplicity_ was alone regarded. They had still
faults, but they were open to conviction. A sense of weakness opens an
encouraging prospect of improvement, and time and care will, it is to be
hoped, rectify the most serious of their erroneous propensities.
When Mr. Wilmot’s health was a little restored, they accompanied him to
the sea-side; and here I must take my leave of my young readers, unless,
at any future time, they should wish to hear more of Susan and Ann, and
the Picture Gallery.
THE END.
----------
Harvey, Darton, and Co. Printers,
Gracechurch-street, London.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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● Transcriber’s Notes:
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
when a predominant form was found in this book.
○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).