Book: Domestic pleasures

F >> F. B. Vaux >> Domestic pleasures




_Mr. B._ Poor little creature: such objects are much to be pitied. There
are persons who take pleasure in seeing them; but I must confess, there
is something to me extremely unnatural, in such an exposure of our
unhappy fellow-creatures.

_Edward_. Did not Peter the Great, on some occasion, assemble a vast
number together?

_Mr. B._ He did; and I rather think Emily can give you an account of it.

_Emily_. It was in the year 1710, that a marriage between two dwarfs was
celebrated at the Russian court. The preparations for this wedding were
very grand, and executed in a style of barbarous ridicule. Peter ordered
that all the dwarfs, both men and women, within two hundred miles,
should repair to the capital, and insisted that they should be present
at the ceremony. Some of them were unwilling to comply with this order,
knowing that the object was to turn them into ridicule; but he soon
obliged them to obey, and, as a punishment for their reluctance, made
them wait on the others. There were seventy assembled, besides the bride
and bridegroom, who were richly adorned in the extreme of fashion.
Everything was suitably provided for the little company; a low table,
small plates, little glasses; in short, all was dwindled down to their
own standard. Dancing followed the dinner, and the ball was opened with
a minuet by the bride and bridegroom, the latter of whom was exactly
three feet two inches high, and the day closed more cheerfully than it
had begun.

_Edward._ I had always understood that Peter was a man of a very
barbarous disposition, and I think this circumstance is a strong proof
of it. How cruel! to make sport of the misfortunes and miseries of
others.

_Mr. B._ The Czar Peter was a most extraordinary man. No monarch ever
did more towards the civilization of his subjects, or less towards the
subduing of his own barbarous nature. My dear Ferdinand, ring the bell;
I believe the tea-things may now be removed.

_Louisa._ Oh! how pleasantly the time has passed. I have not once
thought of my work. I was afraid I should have been quite impatient to
begin the little frock which I cut out last night.

_ Emily._ You have felt interested in the conversation, Louisa, and that
has made the time pass so pleasantly. Sometimes, when you are anxious
respecting any pursuit, you think so much of its approach, that you do
not attempt to employ the preceding minutes, which is the cause of their
appearing so long.

_Mrs. B._ I was just going to make the same remark, Emily. It is very
unwise to lose the present time, in the anticipation of a moment we may
never see:

"Improve the present hour, for all beside Is a mere feather on the
torrent's side."

Whilst the servant was clearing away the tea-things, the children
employed themselves in preparing for their different occupations, and
were soon happily seated around their parents.

_Mr B._ Well, now who will give us an account of the Sabine war? As the
eldest, I believe I must call upon you, Emily.

_Emily._ The Sabines having become masters of the Capitoline hill,
through the treachery of Tarpeis, a general engagement soon took place,
which was renewed for several days, both armies obstinately refusing to
submit. The slaughter was prodigious, which seemed rather to increase
than diminish their rage. In a moment the attention of both armies was
attracted by a most interesting spectacle. The Sabine women, who had
been carried off by the Romans, rushed in between the combatants, their
hair dishevelled, their dress disordered, and the deepest anguish
pictured in their countenances; they seemed quite regardless of
consequences, and, with loud outcries, implored their husbands and
fathers to desist. Completely overcome by this distressing scene, the
combantants let fall their weapons by mutual impulse, and peace was soon
restored. It was determined that Tatius and Romulus should reign jointly
in Rome, with equal power, and that an hundred Sabines should be
admitted into the senate.

_Mr. B_. Was this union permanent, Edward?

_Edward_. Yes, father; though, as might have been expected, little
jealousies occasionally crept in among them. Tatius was, however,
murdered about five years afterwards, so that Romulus was once more sole
master of Rome.

_Mr. B_. Come, Louisa, you have been silent to-night, let me hear you
finish the account.

_Louisa_. Romulus soon began to grow very proud and haughty, now he had
no one to oppose him. The members of the senate were much disgusted by
his arrogance, and contrived to put him to death so privately, that his
body was never discovered: they then persuaded the people that he was
taken up into heaven, and he was long afterwards worshiped as a God,
under the name of Quirinus.

_Ferdinand_. I am glad Romulus is dead, for I never liked him. Numa
Pompilius was a much better man.

_Mr. B._ And pray who was he?

_Ferdinand_. He was a Sabine, papa: the second king of Rome, and was
famous for being a just, moderate, and very good man; and that is the
best kind of fame, I think.

_Mr. B._ I think so, too, Ferdinand. Was Numa Pompilius elected to the
sovereign authority immediately upon the death of Romulus?

_Edward_. No, father: the senators undertook to supply the place of a
king, by assuming, each of them in turn, the government for five days;
but the plebeians not choosing to have so many masters, insisted upon
the nomination of a king, and the choice fell on Numa Pompilius. He was
received with universal approbation, and was himself the only person who
objected to the nomination. Happy at home, and contented in a private
station, he was not ambitious of higher honours, and accepted the
dignity with reluctance.

_Ferdinand_. I should have thought just as

Numa did, papa; for I do not think kings can ever be happy.

_Mr. B._ They are certainly placed in a very responsible situation; but
those who conscientiously perform their respective duties, need not fear
being happy under any circumstances.

_Ferdinand_. But a king has so many duties to fulfil, and they are so
important, that I am sure I had much rather be a subject.

_Mr. B._. I am quite of your opinion, my dear boy, that there is much
more happiness to be found in the private walks of life; and I can with
truth declare, that I would not exchange my own fire-side, enlivened by
so many happy countenances, for the gilded palace of the greatest
monarch.

"Nor would we change our dear father and mother," said the cheerful
little Louisa, "to be the gayest lords and ladies in the land."

_Mr. B._. Well, my little lady, now let me hear how Numa goes on in his
new dignity.

_Louisa_. He was so well calculated to be a king, by his goodness as
well as his knowledge, papa, that you may suppose he made his subjects
very happy. His whole time was spent in endeavouring to render them
pious and virtuous. He built a great many new temples for religious
worship; and, amongst others, one to Janus, which was always open in
time of war, and shut in time of peace. He did every thing in his power
to encourage agriculture, and, for this purpose, divided the lands which
Romulus had conquered in war, among the poor people. His subjects loved
him very much, and he lived till he was eighty years old, and then died
in peace, after having reigned forty-three years. The temple of Janus
was shut during his whole reign.

_Mr. B._ You have given your account very correctly, Louisa; Numa was,
indeed, a wise and discreet prince. You have, however, omitted
mentionaing his distribution of the tradesmen of Rome into distinct
corporations, which Plutarch considered the master-piece of his policy.
The city had been long divided into two factions, occasioned by the
mixture of the Sabines with the first Romans. Hence arose jealousies,
which were an inexhaustible source of discord. Numa, to remedy this
evil, made all the artists and tradesmen of Rome, of whatever nation
they originally were, enter into separate companies, according to their
respective professions. The musicians, goldsmiths, carpenters, curriers,
dyers, tailors, &c. formed distinct communities. He ordained particular
statutes for each of them, and granted them peculiar privileges. Every
corporation was permitted to hold lands, to have a common treasury, and
to celebrate festivals and sacrifices proper to itself;--in short, to
become a sort of little republic. By this means the Sabines and Romans,
forgetting all their old partialities and party names, were brought to
an entire union.

_Ferdinand._ That was a capital contrivance. What a clever man Numa was;
and how much good such a king can do to his people.

_Edward._ You did not mention, Louisa, what pains Numa took to reform
the calendar. The year, before his time, consisted of but three hundred
and four days, which is neither agreeable to the solar nor the lunar
year. Numa endeavoured to make it agree with both: he added January and
February to the old year, which before consisted of only ten months.
Although he did not render the calendar so complete as it is at present,
he remedied the disorders as far as he was able, and put it into a
condition of more easily admitting of new corections.

_Mr. B._ Louisa has alreay told us that the temple of Janus was not
opened during the whole reign of Numa: he was, indeed a most pacific and
amiable prince. He was beloved by his neighbours, and became the arbiter
of all the differences among them; and his virtues seemed to have
communicated themselves to all the nations around Rome. As to the Romans
themselves, it might be literally said, that their weapons of war were
changed into implements of husbandry. No seditions, no ambitious desires
of the throne, nor so much as any murmurs against the person or
administration of the king, appeared amongst his subjects. When he died,
they lamented him as severely as if every man had lost his own father;
and the concourse of strangers to Rome, to pay the last tribute of
respect to his remains, was exceedingly great. Numa had forbidden the
Romans to burn his body; they therefore put it into a stone coffin, and,
according to his own orders, buried the greatest part of the books he
had written, in the same sepulchre with himself. He had made a law,
forbidding that any dead body should be buried within the city, and had,
himself, chosen a burying-place beyond the Tiber. Thither he was
carried, on the shoulders of his senators, and followed by all the
people, who bewailed their loss with tears.

_Mrs. B._ How superior to brass and marble, is such a monument of a
people's love.

_Ferdinand._ I suppose Numa named one of his new months January, in
compliment to the god Janus, to whom he had erected the temple.

_Mr. B._ Yes. Janus is always represented with two faces, one looking
backwards, the other forwards; and seems to be properly placed at the
beginning of the year, to point out to us the necessity of looking back
to the time that is past, that we may remedy our crimes in the year
ensuing.


_Louisa._ Well, really now, that is very ingenious. Are the names of the
other months all equally suitable, papa?

_Mr. B._ February was so called from the expiations signified by the
word _Februs_, which were in this month performed. March had its name
from _Mars_, the supposed father of Romulus; and on that account had
been placed first, till the alteration made by Numa. April is said to
have derived its name from _Aphrodite_, which is another name for Venus,
because of the superstitious worship at that time paid to her. May, from
_Maia_, the mother of Mercury, to whom this month was made sacred. June,
from _Juno_; or, as some suppose, from _Juventus_, the Latin word for
youth, because the season is warm, or, as it were, juvenile. The rest
had their names from their order:--as, _Quintilis_, the fifth month;
_Sextilis_, the sixth; _September_, the seventh; _October_, the eighth;
_November_, the ninth; and _December_, the tenth:--all derived, as you
know, Ferdinand, from the Latin words signifying these numbers.
_Quintilis_ and _Sextilis_ were afterwards changed into July and August,
in compliment to Julius Caesar and the emperor Augustus, of whom you
will hear as you proceed with your history. Have you read any part of
the reign of Tullius Hostilius, who was the next king of Rome?

_Louisa._ I just looked at a few pages, papa, but did not read much.
But, from the little I saw, I do not think I shall like him so well as
Numa.

_Edward_. No, that you will not, Louisa; for he was very fond of war,
which you do not like at all. The temple of Janus was soon opened when
he mounted the throne. I think Hostilius was a good name for him, for he
was hostile to all his neighbours.

_Mr. B._ You have read his reign, I suppose, Edward? We must not,
however, anticipate the history, by entering into any further detail at
present, or we shall deprive your sisters of the pleasure they would
otherwise have in the perusal of it. To-morrow, I shall expect an
account of the battle between the Hexatii and Curiatii, which was the
first remarkable event that occurred in his reign. It is now time to
retire, as I purpose taking you all on a little excursion to-morrow, if
it prove fine. You must, therefore, rise early, and prepare your lessons
before breakfast.

The children all expressed their delight at this unexpected indulgence,
promised the strictest attention to their lessons, and, affectionately
embracing their parents, withdrew.



CONVERSATION III.

On the following morning the children rose according to their promise,
and, by strict attention to their lessons, merited the treat their
father had in store for them. It was a lovely morning! but our best-
laid schemes are subject to disappointment; and the little group felt
their pleasure greatly lessened, upon hearing that a violent headache,
to which their mother was subject, would prevent her joining the party.
I shall not enter into any detail respecting their visit, as my young
readers will hear it all from their own lips, in the conversation they
held with their mother, when they returned in the evening. They had the
pleasure of finding her much better, and able to enjoy their company,
and the account they gave of their excursion.

Emily first entered the parlour, and, gently opening the door,
affectionately enquired after her mother's health.

"My head is much better, I thank you, my dear," replied Mrs. Bernard:
"but why are you alone?--where are your brothers and sisters? All safe
and well, I hope?"

_Emily_. Yes, quite well, and in high spirits, I assure you. They
requested to get out at the lodge-gate, that they might have a race
through the garden. Feeling rather tired, I preferred riding.

At this moment Louisa came running in, quite out of breath. The others
soon followed her, laughing merrily.

_Louisa_. Oh! mamma, how I wish you had been with us. We have had such
a happy day, and have seen so many curious things.

_Ferdinand_. What a nice woman Mrs. Horton is, mamma. She has been so
kind to us.

_Edward_. Dear me, Louisa and Ferdinand, how loud you talk. You forget
mamma's head.

"Gently, my dears, gently," said Mrs. Bernard: "moderate your delight a
little. I am glad to hear that you have enjoyed year day, and shall
like to have a full account of all you have seen, when you can enter
upon it quietly. In the mean time, go and put by your hats and tippets,
my dear girls, and come to tea as quickly as you can."

Louisa declared she did not want any tea, and requested that she might
go into the nursery to little Sophy, and take her some shells, which
Mrs. Horton had given her.

Mrs. Bernard willingly granted her request and added:--"I am glad, my
dear Louisa, you do not, when in the midst of enjoyment yourself, forget
your little sister, who is too young to join your pleasures. You may go
and stay with her a quarter of an hour; but do not keep her up beyond
her usual time."

_Ferdinand_. Pray take my shells too, Louisa, and tell her that little
fishes once lived in them at the bottom of the sea.

Louisa, with a light step, and a heart still lighter, left the room,
saying, she had a great deal of information to give little Sophy.

_Mrs. B._ Now, my dear Emily, ring the bell, and make haste down to tea:
I see your father coming up the garden.

The children quickly returned. They were not, however, allowed to enter
into any detail of their past pleasures, till the tea-things were
removed, and Louisa had joined their part, which she did, very
punctually, at the expiration of the promised quarter of an hour.

_Louisa_. Little Sophy is so delighted with her shells, mamma! She sends
her love to you, Ferdinand, and says she will give you a kiss tomorrow.
I do not think I shall do much work to-night, mamma, we have so many
things to tell you.

The room was soon cleared, and liberty given to begin the account of
their excursion, provided only one spoke at a time.

_Ferdinand_. Oh, Louisa, tell mamma about the dog!

_Edward_. No: tell about the cat, that is the most curious.

_Louisa_. Now, I do not think so, Edward. The story about the dog was so
very droll.

_Mrs. B._ Stop--stop, my dear children, or I shall hear nothing after
all. Begin at the beginning, and all will go on regularly. Now, set out
from our own door.

_Louisa_. Come, Emily, you will tell that part best, because I do think
you enjoyed the ride more than any of us.

_Emily_. I did, indeed, enjoy it. The country looks so rich, from the
variety of foliage; the autumnal tints are in their highest beauty, and
you know, my dear mother, how delightful the scenery is, particularly
through the park which leads to Mrs. Horton's house. She received us
with the greatest politeness, and was very sorry you were prevented
accompanying us, especially when she heard that indisposition was the
cause of your absence. After we had taken some refreshment, she proposed
a walk in the park. As we passed through a small room, opening into the
garden, I was much struck with the appearance of an elegant bird in a
glass case. It was stuffed, but so remarkably well done, that you would
have thought it still alive. From the two long feathers in its tail, I
knew it to be the bird of Paradise, and begged Mrs. Horton would give me
leave to examine it more closely. She told me it was a native of the
Molucca Islands, and that there were eight different species of them.
The plumage is very beautiful. The head, throat, and neck, are of a pale
gold colour; the base of the bill, as well as the head, is covered with
fine black feathers, soft and glossy as velvet, and varying in colour
with the different shades of light that fall upon them. The back part of
the head is of a shining green, mixed with bright yellow; the body and
wings are covered with brown, purple, and gold-coloured feathers; the
upper part of the tail is a pale yellow, and the undermost feathers are
white, and longer than those above. But what chiefly excites curiosity,
are two long, naked feathers, which spring from the upper part of the
rump, above the tail, and are, in general, two feet in length. These
birds are supposed to migrate into other countries at the time of the
monsoons, but it is not certain that they do so.

_Ferdinand_. Pray, what are the _monsoons_, Emily?

_Emily_. They are periodical winds, to which those countries are subject
lying within a certain distance of the equator. They blow in one
direction for a time, and, at stated seasons, change, and blow for an
equal space of time from the opposite point of the compass.

_Louisa_. Do not forget the little hummingbirds, Emily, which were in
the case next to the bird of Paradise. What beautiful little creatures
they were! And Mrs. Horton says that nature has provided them with
forked tongues, completely formed for entering flowers, and drawing out
the honey, which is their natural food.

_Mrs. B_. Did Mrs. Horton tell you how curiously they construct their
nests?

_Louisa_. Oh, yes; she showed us one: it was suspended on the very point
of a twig. She says, they adopt this plan to secure them from the
attacks of the monkey and the snake. They form them in the shape of a
hen's egg, cut in half. The eggs are not bigger than a pea, of a clear
white, with a few yellow specks here and there. I wish I had some of
these pretty little creatures; but Mrs. Horton says they will not live
in England, it is so much colder than the tropical climates.

_Ferdinand_. What little feet the Chinese women have, mamma! We saw one
of their shoes, and I am sure it was not a bit bigger than little
Sophy's.

_Emily_. But you know, Ferdinand, _that_ is not the natural size of the
Chinese ladies' feet: they are confined, while they are babies, with
very tight bandages, which prevent them from growing.

_Louisa._ I am glad I am not a Chinese little girl. Such small feet
cannot be very useful to them when they grow up to be women, I think.

_Mrs. B._ Indeed, they are not: The poor things are perfect cripples,
and are obliged to be carried wherever they go.

_Ferdinand._ Oh, how I pity them! They can never run about and enjoy
themselves while they are little, as we do, Louisa.

_Mrs. B._ Indeed, my dear Ferdinand, an English child has great cause
for thankfulness, on many accounts. I know of no country where the real
happiness and welfare of children is so carefully studied.

_Emily._ In China, however, the boys are educated with considerable
care. In their early studies, geography is particularly attended to. At
six years of age, they are made acquainted with the names of the
principal parts of the world; at eight, they are instructed in the rules
of politeness; and at ten are sent to a public school, where they learn
reading, writing, and arithmetic. From thirteen to fifteen they are
taught music; they do not, however, sing merry songs, as we do, but
serious sentences, or moral precepts. They also practise the use of the
bow, and are taught to ride. In every city, town, and almost in every
village, I have been told that there are public school for teaching the
more abstruse sciences.

_Mrs. B._ The mind of the poor girls, on the contrary, are most sadly
neglected. Needlework is almost the only accomplishment thought
necessary for them. There is no country in the world in which the woman
are in a greater state of humiliation, than in China. Those whose
husbands are of high rank, live under constant confinement; those of the
second class are little better than upper servants, deprived of all
liberty; whilst the poort share with their husbands the most laborious
occupations.

_Louisa._ How exceedingly I should dislike it; and yet, I think, I would
rather be the wife of a poor Chinese, than of a rich one.

_Emily_ I think so too; for the hardest labour would not be to me so
irksome as total inactivity.

_Mrs. B._ I am quite of your opinion, Emily. The situation of these
wretched beings must be rendered doubly irksome by the uncultivated
state of their minds. This deprives them of those delightful resources,
from which the well-educated female of our happy country may constantly
derive the purest enjoyment.

_Emily._ Had not your and my dear father early installed into us a love
of reading, how very much our present enjoyments would be lessened.

_Mrs. B._ We have always, my dear considered it as an important point
in your education; since no amusement so delightfully occupies the
vacant hours of life, even where entertainment is the principal object.
It is one of those tastes that grows by indulgence: there is scarcely
any enjoyment so independent of the will of others: it engages and
employs the thoughts of the wretched, directs the enthusiasm of the
young, and relieves the weariness of old age. Well might the amiable
Fenelon say: "If the crowns of all the kingdoms of Europe were laid at
my feet, in exchange for my love of reading, I would spurn them all."

_Louisa_. Now, Ferdinand, I know you long to tell mamma your droll
story about the dog.

_Ferdinand_. Well, mamma, when we got into the garden, I was very much
amused with a nice little terrier, and Mrs. Horton said, she thought we
should be entertained with an anecdote or two she could tell us
respecting him. The dog belongs to her brother, who is an elderly
gentleman, and wears a wig. He used to keep one hung up on a peg in his
dressing-room, and, as it was grown very shabby, he one day gave it away
to a poor old man. The dog happened soon after to see him in the
street. He knew the wig again in a minute; and, looking full in the
man's face, made a sudden spring, leaped upon his shoulders, seized the
wig, and ran off with it as fast as he could; and, when he reached home,
endeavoured, by jumping, to hang it in its usual place.

_Mrs. B._ I think your story very amusing, Ferdinand: it is a curious
instance of sagacity.

_Emily_. The other circumstance which Mrs. Horton mentioned, of the
same animal, proves him equally sagacious. He was one day passing
through a field, where a washerwoman had hung out her linen to dry; he
stopped, and surveyed one particular shirt with attention, then seizing
it, he dragged it through the dirt to his master, whose shirt it proved
to be. [Footnote: See Bingley's Animal Biography.]

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.