Book: Domestic pleasures

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"I am not certain that I understand the meaning of the word
_cartilaginous_, but believe it signifies, that the teeth of the whale
are sometimes formed of gristle, instead of bone," said Ferdinand.

_Mr. B._ You are quite right, my love; and now, if you fully comprehend
the meaning of all the words, we will attend to our Roman history a
little. Let me hear what more you have read respecting Tarquin and his
infamous son.

_Edward_. We have finished the account of the regal government.
Tarquin and his son behaved so basely, that the people could no longer
bear their tyranny and oppression, but boldly threw off the yoke. We
must, however, first tell you, papa, what became of the poor inhabitants
of Gabii, who had fallen victims to their credulity, and to the
confidence they placed in the perfidious Sextus. When they saw
themselves thus totally at the mercy of the tyrant, they fell into the
deepest despair, expecting to suffer the most cruel treatment. Their
misfortunes were not, however, so great as their fears. Tarquin thought
it most for his own interest, to act with some degree of humanity
towards this betrayed people, and none of the citizens were put to death
by his order. He granted them their lives and liberties, making Sextus
their king. Tarquin, after this, continued for some time to enjoy
profound peace at home. The Romans became accustomed to the yoke of
their imperious master, and groaned in silence under his oppressions.

"Let me give the account of that curious woman, who came with her great
books, if you please, Edward," said Ferdinand.

"With all my heart," returned Edward.

_Ferdinand_. Just at this time, when Tarquin was enjoying profound
peace, an unknown woman came to court, loaded with nine large volumes,
which she offered to sell for a great sum of money. On Tarquin's
refusing to give it, she went away and burnt three of the books. Some
time after this she returned to court, and offered the remaining six for
the same sum. The people then thought her a mad woman, and drove her
away with contempt. She again withdrew, and burnt four more, still
returning with the remainder, and demanding the same price as she had
done for the whole nine volumes. Tarquin now grew quite curious to know
the cause of this strange proceeding, and put the books into the hands
of his augurs, to have them examined. They found them to be the oracles
of the Sybil of Cumae, and declared them an invaluable treasure.
Tarquin, therefore, ordered the woman to be paid the sum she demanded.
She exhorted the Romans to preserve her books with great care, and
afterwards disappeared.

_Mrs. B._ What became of these mysterious books? Can you tell us,
Louisa?

_Louisa_. They soon became very much respected at Rome, and were
consulted on all cases of emergency, as they were supposed to foretel
future events. Two persons of high rank were appointed by Tarquin, to
be guardians of these invaluable treasures. They were locked up in a
vault of the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and when, some time after,
this temple was burnt, they also were destroyed with it.

_Emily_. The tranquillity of Tarquin's reign was disturbed by a
dreadful plague, which suddenly broke out in Rome, and raged with great
violence. It made such an impression upon his mind, that he resolved to
send his sons, Titus and Arun, to consult the oracle of Delphi upon the
cause of this contagion, and how they might effect its cure. The
princes prepared magnificent presents for Apollo. Junius Brutus, the
pretended idiot, was to accompany them for their amusement. He was the
youngest son of the venerable Marcus Junius, whom I mentioned last
night, as being assassinated by order of Tarquin; and Brutus would also
have fallen a sacrifice to his cruel policy, had he not counterfeited
idiotism. When the princes were preparing their presents, he resolved
to carry his offering also. The whole court was diverted at the choice
he made, of a suitable present for the occasion, which was an elder
stick. He knew that the gods of those times, or their ministers, were
much delighted with valuable offerings; he therefore contrived to
conceal a rod of gold in this stick, without the knowledge of any one.

_Mr. B._ This was a true emblem of his own mind, which, under a
contemptible outside, concealed the richest gifts of nature. Did they
gain any intelligence from the oracle.

_Louisa_. I believe it told them, there would soon be a new reign at
Rome. Upon this, the young princes enquired which of them should
succeed Tarquin. The answer returned was: "He who shall first give a
kiss to his mother." The two brothers then declared that they would both
kiss her at the same moment, that they might reign jointly. Brutus,
however, thought the oracle had another meaning, and, pretending to fall
down, he kissed the earth, the common mother of all living.

_Emily_. The regal power lasted but a very little time longer in Rome.
A brutal insult, offered by Sextus to Lucretia, the virtuous wife of
Collatinus, roused the dormant spirit of the people. Brutus threw off
the mark of idiotism, by which he had been hitherto concealed, and
seizing the dagger, which Lucretia, unable to survive the insult she had
received, had plunged into her breast, he held it up to the assembly,
stained as it was with the blood of that unhappy woman, and, in a very
animated speech, called upon his fellow-citizens to avenge her cause.
They were all astonished at the sudden change in Brutus, who then told
them his former folly had been affected, as the only means of securing
him from the murderous designs of Tarquin. The nobility all submitted
to the will of Brutus. He caused the still bleeding body of Lucretia to
be carried to the place where the senators usually assembled, and,
placing the corpse where it might be seen by every body, ordered the
people to be called together, and addressed them in a very spirited
speech, which was often interrupted by the acclamations of the people.
Some wept at the remembrance of past sufferings, other rejoiced in the
idea that their sorrows were about to end, and all called for arms. The
senate passed a decree, depriving Tarquin of every right belonging to
the regal authority, and condemning him and all his posterity to
perpetual banishment.

"Can you tell me, Edward, how Tarquin acted upon this change of
fortune," said Mr. Bernard.

_Edward_. He was not in Rome at the time it occurred, but, upon hearing
that Brutus was endeavouring to excite a tumult against him, he hastened
to the city, attended by his friends and his three sons; but finding the
gates shut, and the people in arms upon the walls, he returned with all
speed, to the camp. During his absence, however, short as it was, he
found that the conspirators had gained over the army to their party.
Thus, driven from his capitol and rejected by his troops, he was forced,
at the age of seventy-six, to fly for refuge, with his wife and sons, to
Gabii, in hopes the Latines would come forward and espouse his cause;
but being disappointed in this expectation, he retired into Etruria, the
country of his mother's family, where he hoped to find more friends, and
still entertained expectations of recovering his throne. Having wandered
from city to city, he at length fixed his residence in Tarquinia, and so
far raised the compassion of the inhabitants, as to induce them to send
an embassy to Rome, with a modest, submissive letter from himself,
directed to the Roman people.

_ Mr. B_. Pray Emily, what was passing in Rome all this time.

_Emily_. Brutus assembled the people in the field of Mars, and in long
speeches exhorted them to concord; and the consuls, standing before the
altars, took an oath, in the name of themselves, their children, and
posterity, that they would never recall king Tarquin nor his family from
banishment, nor create any other king of Rome; and they made the people
take the same oath. Under these circumstances, you may suppose that the
ambassadors from the banished king did not meet with a very favourable
reception. From their earnest supplications to the senate, however, that
they would hear their monarch before he was condemned, the consuls at
first inclined to bring them before the people, and to leave the
decision of the affair to them; but Valerius, a man of great weight in
the council, strongly opposed this measure, and, by his influence in the
senate, defeated this first attempt of the artful Tarquin. His next step
seemed likely to be more successful. A second embassy was dispatched to
Rome, under pretence of demanding the estates of the exiles, but with
private instructions to stir up a faction, if possible, against the
consuls. The ambassadors were admitted, and urged the most modest
demands in behalf of the banished king. They requested only his paternal
estate, and on that condition promised never to attempt the recovery of
his kingdom by force of arms.

_Mr. B_. Well, Louisa, what reception did this proposition meet?

_Louisa_. The consul Collatinus would have complied with the request,
but Brutus opposed it. It was then left to the decision of the people,
who generously determined that the Tarquins should be put in possession
of the estates of their family.

"It was a generosity which those wicked Tarquins did not deserve, I am
sure," said Ferdinand; "for whilst the people were employed in loading
carriages with their effects, and in selling what could not be carried
off, the ambassadors were trying to draw some of the nearest relations
of the consuls into a plot against them. Among the conspirators were
Titus and Tiberius, the two sons of Brutus. Notwithstanding the secrecy
with which they carried on their designs, their plot was discovered by
one of their slaves, who disclosed the affair to Valerius. Upon this
information, the conspirators were taken prisoners, and their papers,
with several letters which they had written to the banished king,
seized."

"The trial of these unhappy men was very affecting," said Emily: "early
on the following morning, the people being summoned to the hall of
justice, the prisoners were brought forth.

"Brutus began with the examination of his two sons. The slave who had
discovered their designs, appeared against them, and the letters they
had written to the Tarquins were read. The proofs being clear, the
prisoners stood quite silent, and pleaded only by their tears. Three
times their father called upon them to plead their cause, but tears were
still their only answer. Many of the senators were touched with
compassion, and implored for their banishment rather than their deaths.
All the people stood trembling, in expectation of the sentence. Their
stern father at length arose, and with a steady voice, uninterrupted by
a single sigh, said: "Lictors, I deliver them over to you; the rest is
your part." At these words, the whole assembly groaned aloud; distress
showed itself in every face, and the mournful looks of the people
pleaded for pity: but neither their intercessions, nor the bitter
lamentations of the young men, who called upon their father by the most
endearing names, could soften the inflexible judge. The heads of the
young men were struck off by the lictors, Brutus all the while gazing on
the cruel spectacle, with a steady look and composed countenance."

"Oh! my dear father," exclaimed Ferdinand, "surely Brutus must have been
a cruel, hard-hearted man."

"In his feelings as a patriot," returned Mr. Bernard, "those of the
father appear to have been absorbed. What became of the other prisoners,
Edward?"

_Edward_. Excepting the ambassadors, they all shared the fate of the
sons of Brutus. His severity towards his children, greatly increased his
authority in Rome; and when he was, some time after, slain in battle by
Aruns, the son of Tarquin, the citizens were inconsolable for his loss.
They considered him as a hero, who had restored liberty to his country,
who had cemented that liberty by the blood of his own children, and who
had died in defending it against the tyrant. The first funeral honours
were paid him in the camp; but, the next day, the corpse was brought
into the Forum, in a magnificent litter. On this occasion, Valerius gave
Rome the first example of those funeral orations, which were ever after
made in praise of great men. The ladies distinguished themselves on this
occasion: they mourned for him a whole year, as if they had lost a
common father.

"The death of such a man was, indeed, a serious misfortune to the
state," said Mr. Bernard: "can you tell me what became of the banished
Tarquin?"

_Emily_. After an exile of fourteen years, during which time he made
many ineffectual struggles to recover the throne, he died at the
advanced age of ninety.

"This, papa, is all we have read at present," said Edward; "I hope my
brother and sisters will not go on with the history till my return, for
this is a very good place to leave off."

_Louisa_ I am sure, Edward, we should have no pleasure in going on
without you, and am certain mamma would not wish it.

It was unanimously agreed, that the Roman history should be laid aside
till Edward's return.

"You have now seen," said Mr. Bernard, "the freedeom which the Romans
recovered by the expulsion of Tarquin the Proud, secured to them by his
death; a freedom that was undoubtedly the source of all their future
grandeur. I must again repeat, my dear children, that I have been much
pleased with the manner in which you have given this little sketch of
the regal government of Rome. One very important point you have,
however, overlooked."

"Pray, papa, what is that?" enquired the children, with one voice.

"The dates of the different events which you have mentioned," replied
their father. "Geography and chronology, are desevedly called _the two
eyes of history_. Without geography, which is a knowledge of the
situation and extent of the different countries of the earth, no reader
of history can have clear and distinct ideas of what he reads, as being
transacted in them; and without chronology, which is a knowledge of the
time when the various events took place, the historical facts he
acquires by reading, will only be an incumbrance upon his memory. He
will have a number of confused ideas, but no regular or useful
information. Now, which of you can tell me in what year Rome was built?"

"Oh, we all know that," said Louisa; "it was seven hundred and fifty-
three years before the birth of our Saviour."

"And the regal power was abolished four hundred and sixty-seven years
before that event," continued Edward; "so that _that_ administration
lasted two hundred and eighty-six years."

"But I do think, papa," said Ferdinand, "that it is very difficult to
remember dates. I wish you could tell us some easy way, by which we
might impress them upon our memories."

"The system of Mnemonics, lately introduced by Fineagle and Coglan, you
will find a great assistance. The substitution of letters for figures,
is an excellent plan, as it enables you to form the date into words,
which you may associate with the event itself, and, by this means,
impress it much more indelibly upon your memory."

"I do not quite understand you, papa," said Louisa.

"I will purchase one of Mr. Coglans's books, the next time I go to
town," said her father, "that will explain the plan to you very clearly,
and I think you will find it extremely useful. Come, my dear Edward,"
added he, turning to his son, "as you have so long a journey in prospect
to-morrow, it is quite time for you to retire."

The rest of the children soon followed his example, and taking an
affectionate leave of their parents, withdrew for the night.


CONVERSATION XI


Mr. Dormer called early the following morning, and breakfasted with the
Bernard family before his departure. The little folks endeavoured to
welcome him with smiles; but it was very evident that their hearts were
heavy, in spite of their efforts to appear cheerful. They had never
before been separated from each other, and they felt that Edward's
absence would make a sad blank in their little circle. Edward himself,
though delighted with the prospect of his journey, could not repress a
starting tear, as his mother folded him, with maternal tenderness, to
her bosom. He renewed his promise of writing them a long letter in the
course of a week, giving a full account of all he should hear and learn;
then, kissing his brother and sister, he hastened into the chaise,
followed by Mr. Dormer, and soon lost the sadness which had crept over
his spirits, in admiration of the luxuriant country through which they
passed.

But with the little group at home, it was quite otherwise: they had no
variety of scene to banish their sorrow for his departure; on the
contrary, every object they saw reminded them of their beloved Edward.
They felt, without being aware of it, the force of Scott's beautiful
lines:

"When musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone."

Their customary tasks passed off heavily, and every object,
notwithstanding the cheerfulness of the day, assumed an appearance of
unusual gloom.

Mrs. Bernard affectionately sympathised in their sorrow, and thinking a
walk might in some measure divert their attention, proposed a visit to
the old woman's cottage. Mr. Bernard had lost one of his under clerks,
and intended taking Henry to supply his place, should he find him
qualified for the situation. No proposition could have been more
agreeable to the children, and with great alacrity they prepared to
accompany their mother. It was, however, some time before they could
recover their spirits, so as to enjoy their walk as usual.

"Ah, mamma," said Ferdinand, "how very different things appear when we
are happy, and when we are unhappy; this walk was so delightful last
Monday! How much we did enjoy ourselves! Do you not remember it? You
gave us that interesting account of the British _hirundines_. Edward
enjoyed it with us, and we thought it so pleasant; and now I really do
not think it a particularly cheerful walk, and, to tell you the truth,
mamma, it appears to me very dull to-day, and yet I see no alteration in
the prospect."

_Mrs. B._ The alteration is in your own mind, my boy. Your present
feelings must convince you, how important is the acquisition of that
firmness of mind, which your father has so constantly endeavoured to
inculcate, and which can alone enable you to bear, with fortitude, the
_real_ evils you will have to encounter in after life.

"_Real_ evils, mamma!" reiterated Ferdinand; "you do not then think this
a real evil?"

"Indeed, my dear, I do not," replied Mrs. Bernard; "on the contrary, I
hope, to Edward it will prove a real good; and I am sure you are none of
you so selfish as to wish to deprive him of any advantage, merely for
the sake of your own gratification."

"Selfish! Oh, no, mamma, indeed we are not selfish," cried all the
children at once: "we will convince you we are not, for we will, this
minute, leave off grieving for Edward's departure, and teach ourselves
to rejoice, and wish him very happy."

_Mrs. B._ You will do quite right, my dears; and now let us change the
subject, for that is the best way to banish your regret.

_Ferdinand_. I was very much amused yesterday, mamma, with reading the
new book you gave me for a prize a little time ago.

_Mrs. B._ Miss Edgworth's "Early Lessons," do you mean, my dear
Ferdinand?

"Yes, mamma: I was reading that part of Harry and Lucy, in which their
father so clearly explains to them the expansibility of air, and the
power of steam; and I thought this might, perhaps, account for a thing
that has always puzzled me extremely, and that is, earthquakes.
[Footnote: Another remark of the child before mentioned.] I was reading
a description of one a few days ago, and feel very anxious to know what
can occasion such dreadful convulsions in the bowels of the earth. Will
you be so kind, mamma, as to tell me what is supposed to be the cause?"

_Mrs. B._ On this, as well as on most other philosophical subjects, the
opinions of the learned vary. Mr. *****, who was a great naturalist,
imagines some to be produced by fire, in the manner of volcanoes;
others, by the struggles of confined air, expanded by heat, and
endeavouring to get free. But there does not appear any sufficient
reason for this distinction. The union of fire and air seems necessary
to effect the explosion; since the former is an agent of no power,
without the aid of the latter.

_Ferdinand_. But pray, mamma, how does heat get into the inside of the
earth?

_Mrs. B._ There are hidden in the bowels of the earth, immense
quantities of inflammable matter: pyrites, bitumens, and other
substances of a similar nature, which only require moisture to put their
fires in motion. Water readily finds its way into the greatest depths
of earth: or even from subterraneous springs, this dreadful mixture may
occur, when immediately new appearances ensue; those substances which
have lain dormant for ages, and which, had they not met with this new
element, would have remained so for ages longer, appear suddenly to have
changed their nature: they grow hot, produce new air, and require room
for expansion. The struggles this air then makes to get free, throw all
above into convulsions, and produce those dreadful catastrophes which we
so properly denominate earthquakes. This appears the most rational
means of accounting for this phenomenon; I have not, therefore, thought
it needful to enter into the theoretical speculations of philosophers
upon the subject.

_Ferdinand._ Well, mamma, directly I read, in Henry and Lucy, an
account of those experiments, I felt almost sure, the expansion of the
air in the earth, was the cause of earthquakes; though I did not exactly
understand how it could be. I am much obliged to you for your
explanation.

_Mrs. B._ You are very welcome, my dear. You lately read an account of
one of these dreadful convulsions of nature. Where did it happen?

_Ferdinand._ In Jamaica, mamma, in the year 1692: it is a most dreadful
account. In two minutes' time, the town of Port Royal was destroyed,
and the houses sunk in a gulph forty fathoms deep. In every fathom,
there are six feet, you know, mamma; so, if we multiply forty by six, we
shall find that these poor creatures were instantly buried, with their
houses, to the depth of two hundred and forty feet under ground. In
other parts of the island, the sand rose like the waves of the sea,
lifting up all who stood upon it, and then dashing them into pits. The
water was thrown out of the wells with the greatest violence; the
openings of the earth were in some places so broad, that the streets
appeared twice as wide as they were before: in others, the ground yawned
and closed again continually, swallowing, at each yawn, two or three
hundred of the wretched inhabitants: sometimes the chasms suddenly
closing, caught them by the middle, and crushed them instantly to death.
From openings still more dreadful than these, spouted up cataracts of
water, drowning such as the earthquake had spared. Every thing was
destroyed: houses, people, and trees, shared one universal ruin. Great
pools of water afterwards appeared, which, when dried by the sun, left
only a plain of barren sand, without a single trace of its former
inhabitants.

_Mrs. B._ I recollect to have read the account, as well as that of a
very similar one that occurred some years ago at Lisbon, which is, you
know, the capital of Portugal. I have, at home, a very interesting
narrative of an earthquake that happened at Calabria, in the southern
part of Italy. It is related by Father Kircher, who was considered as a
prodigy of learning, and was also a very excellent man. When we return
home, I will look for the paper, and let you read it.

Just as Mrs. Bernard had finished speaking, a little girl, about six
years old, came running towards them, crying most bitterly, and
exclaiming: "Oh! dear lady, do pray come to my poor mammy, for she is
very bad indeed: I do think she is going to die, as my daddy did last
week; and then poor baby, and Tommy, and I shall die too, for there will
be nobody to take care of us when mammy is gone."

"Where does your mammy live, my poor little girl?" enquired Mrs.
Bernard.

"By the hill-side, Ma'am, at yonder cottage," said the child, pointing
to a low-roofed shed at no great distance.

Mrs. Bernard, accompanied by Emily, Louisa, and Ferdinand, proceeded
towards the spot pointed out by the little girl, and on entering the
cot, beheld a sight which wrung their gentle hearts with pity. On a
bundle of straw in one corner of the hovel, (for it deserved no better
name,) lay a young woman, apparently fast sinking into the arms of
death; at the foot of this wretched bed, sat a poor little half naked
boy, crying for that food his wretched mother could not supply; an
infant at her breast, was vainly endeavouring to procure the nourishment
which nature usually provides, but which want and misery had now nearly
exhausted.

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