Book: Domestic pleasures

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




_Mr. B._ His wicked daughter is an object of still greater pity. The
sufferings of the good old king, we may hope, ended with this life;
whilst, we have every reason to believe, that the punishment of the
unnatural Tullia, would extend to the countless ages of eternity.
Servius was, indeed, an excellent prince: he subdued the enemies of
Rome, and was always desirous to avoid making new ones. He did not
conquer merely for the sake of glory, but for the public good. He made
Rome more formidable by twenty years' peace, than his predecessors had
done by many victories. He introduced order into the militia and public
revenues, extended the power of the senate, and yet kept its authority
within proper bounds. He was beloved by the people, and even his ancient
enemies, the patricians, esteemed his virtues; so that, if he could have
preserved the affection of his own family, he might have been said not
to have had a single enemy. He was, at the time of his death, seventy-
four years of age; of which he had reigned forty-four years. Tarquin
refused him the honours of a funeral, lest it might occasion a commotion
among the people. Tarquinia conveyed the body of her husband, privately,
by night, to his tomb, and she herself died on the following evening;
but whether from grief, or the wickedness of Tullia, is uncertain.

_Mrs. B._ This is, indeed, my dear children, a mournful account; but it
contains a very important lesson to all who are subject to the same
criminal enormities. At the commencement of her dreadful career, Tullia
would, perhaps, have recoiled with horror, from the hideous picture of
her own crimes. She might have remonstrated, as did Hazael to the
prophet: "What! is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great
thing?" The example of Tullia, forcibly teaches the progressive nature
and dreadful consequences of sin. It points out to us the danger of
entering upon a course of criminal indulgence, by showing the sad
extremes into which those are likely to be hurried, who resign
themselves slaves to ambition and to vice. Listen not, my children, to
the syren song of worldly pleasure; pursue not the gilded pageants of
time. Instead of amusing yourselces with these phantoms of a moment,
build up your happiness on the durable foundations of innocence and
virtue. Let us now turn from the dismal picture we have been
contemplating, though without forgetting the important lesson it
inculcates. Ferdinand, my dear, tell us your promised story of the old
mand and his bundle of sticks.

_Ferdinand_. An old man had several sons, who used very often to
quarrel with each other. Their father exerted his authority, and tried
every means in his power, in order to reconcile them, but all to no
purpose. At length he assembled his family together, and ordered a
short bundle of sticks be brought, which he commanded them, one by one,
to endeavour to break. They each tried, with all their might, but in
vain. The sticks were firmly bound together, and no force they could
employ, could break them. After this, the old man untied the bundle,
and gave a single stick to each of his sons, bidding them try to break
_that_, which they did with the greatest ease. The father then said:
"Behold, my dear children, the power of unity. If you would keep
yourselves strictly joined together by the bond of friendship, it would
not be in the power of any one to hurt you; but when once the ties of
brotherly love are dissolved, you are liable to be injured by the attack
of every enemy."

_Mr. B_. It is an excellent fable, and I hope, my beloved children, you
will all attend to the lesson it conveys. To see you united by the
tender hands of affection, is one of the first wishes of our hearts for
you.

"What a very pleasing manner of conveying instruction, is a fable," said
Edward.

"It is, my love," replied his father: "the ancients were aware of this,
and made great use of fables in their instruction of the young:
'Whatever is conceived by the mind, must enter by the senses; and moral
truth is never so easily understood, as when it is exemplified by
reference to some parallel case in nature.' The various instincts of
brute creatures, are particularly useful for this purpose. Moral good
and evil are, through their means, represented in a way which even
children can understand."

"Can you tell me, papa, what was the first origin of fables?" enquired
Ferdinand.

"It is not very clear, my dear," replied Mr. Bernard, "but it is
probable they are nearly as ancient as the history of mankind; or, at
least, that there never was a time, of which we have any knowledge, when
they were no familiar. We first read of them as being used in Palestine
and Egypt, from whence they were even borrowed by the Greeks and Romans.
The earliest specimen of fables with which I am acquainted, occurs in
the book of Judges, where Jotham signifies to the people, the temper and
fate of a usurper, under the similitude of the trees going forth to
choose them a king." [Footnote: See Jones, on the Origin and Use of
Fables.]

_Ferdinand._ It is in the ninth chapter of Judges. I read it this
morning, but did not quite understand the intention of it.

_ Mr. B._ I will endeavour to explain it to you then, my love. You will
recollect, that the fruitful trees, when applied to, all declined taking
upon them the sovereign authority; but the bramble offers his services,
and gets into power. The moral of which, as applicable to the person of
Abimelech, was this:--that the desire of reigning does not prevail in
wise and good men, who should feed the people, and protect them under
the shadow of their authority; but chiefly in men of rough minds and
bloody intentions, who harass the people, and are, at last, consumed
with them, in the unjust exercise of their power.

"The parables made use of by our Saviour, are, I think, very much in the
form of fables," said Emily.

_Mrs. B._ They are, my love. They were delivered in this manner, for
the sake of some moral, which would either be obscure without an
illustration, or offensive to the bearers, if it were delivered in plain
terms.

_Louisa._ Nathan's reproof to king David, when he took away the wife of
Uriah the Hittite, is very beautiful. I read it a little time ago, in
the twelfth chapter of the second book of Samuel. He made use of a fable
to gain his attention.

_Mrs. B._ He did, my love. By putting a case in which David seemed to
have no immediate concern, he interested his affections; and when his
indignation was raised against a fictitious person, the prophet turned
it upon himself, with that striking application: "Thou art the man."
Then there was no retracting: he had already condemned himself, in the
judgement he had passed upon the cruel offender in the parable.

Mrs. Bernard now took out her watch, and expressed her surprise upon
finding it near ten o'clock.

Their father immediately requested them to prepare to retire, adding:
"To-morrow will be Sunday: I hope you will be in my study by seven
o'clock, that we may begin early the important duties of that sacred
day."

_Ferdinand._ I have been often surprised to find, that many people lie
longer in bed on Sundays, then on the other mornings of the week. This
must be wrong. They can rise six days a week to work, and not one to
worship. [Footnote: This was an observation, _verbatim_, of the same
little boy before mentioned.]

_Mr. B._ Your remark is a just one, my dear boy; let us, in our own
family, endeavour to set a different example. Good night, my children.


CONVERSATION VII.


The little party assembled this evening, as usual; but, being Sunday,
the conversation was less general, though not less cheerful than at
other times. Mr. and Mrs. Bernard possessed the happy art of presenting
religious instruction to their children, under the most pleasing form;
consequently, they did not dread the approach of the sabbath, as a day
when all pleasure must be excluded. On the contrary, it was hailed with
gladness: the business of the week was entirely laid aside, and their
minds were naturally turned, in thankfulness, towards the Divine Being
to whom they owed so much. The gracious God was always presented to
their view, surrounded by his benign attributes. They were instructed to
regard him, not only as the author of their existence, but as the source
whence every comfort flowed. They were taught to consider him, not a
severe judge, delighting in punishment, but a merciful father, who
withheld not even his only Son, but freely gave him up to die for
sinners, that they might be pardoned through his blood. They were
instructed, fully to appreciate that mercy, which delighteth not in the
death of a sinner, but would rather that he should be converted and
live. The beautiful prayers in the Liturgy, were explained to them in a
manner suitable to their different capacities; consequently, they were
not repeated by rote, as is too frequently the case, where the same
attention is not paid. Mr. and Mrs. Bernard took unremitted pains with
their children, and felt themselves amply rewarded by their conduct; for
though, like other human beings, they were fallible, and, consequently,
often did wrong, yet religious principle being the ground-work of their
characters, conviction instantly followed the commission of a fault, and
sorrow and repentance succeeded.

I hope, my dear young readers, you feel some degree of interest in my
little family, and some of you, perhaps, may wish to be as good and as
happy as they were: let me then most earnestly and affectionately
entreat you, to "remember your Creator in the days of your youth: while
the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when you shall say, I
have no pleasure in them."

After Ferdinand had repeated the text, and Emily, Edward, and Louisa,
had given an abstract of the sermon they had heard in the morning,
Louisa added: "I should have liked the sermon much better, mamma, if the
preacher had not been such a disagreeable-looking man."

"I should not have expected to have heard my little Louisa make so
foolish and improper a remark," replied Mrs. Bernard: "it reminds me of
an anecdote which I read a short time ago. I will relate it to you, as
I think I cannot give you a more suitable reproof. A person once
excusing his non-attendance at public worship, by pleading the
disagreeable appearance and manner of the minister, 'Let us look,' said
the good Bishop of Alet, to whom this man was addressing himself, 'more
at our Saviour, and less at the instrument. Elijah was as well
nourished, when the bread from heaven was brought to him by a raven, as
Ishmael, when the spring of water was revealed to him by an angel.'"

"Thank you, my dear mamma," said Louisa: "it is a beautiful anecdote,
and I shall endeavour not to merit another reproof upon that subject."

Mrs. Bernard then produced a letter, which she had received from a
friend the day before, and desired Emily to read it aloud, as it
contained an account which she thought would both interest and instruct
the children. "Read it slowly, my dear girl," continued she, "endeavour
to avoid hesitation, and lay your emphasis properly. This is a very
material point. Lindley Murray, in his excellent Introduction to the
English Reader, says: 'It is one of the most decisive trials of a true
and just taste, and must arise from feeling delicately ourselves, and
from judging accurately of what is fittest to strike the feelings of
other.'"

Emily promised to attend to her mother's instructions, and taking the
letter, read the following extract.

"In the autumn of the year 1808, eight passengers, consisting of seven
gentlemen and one lady, embarked on board an American vessel, bound from
the port of Cronstadt to America, purposing to touch at England, in
company with a brig and another vessel. They had scarcely proceeded
fifty leagues, when a violent storm arose. The night was unusually
dark, and the ship ungovernable. In this extremity, the brig suddenly
dashed against them with such force, that every plank seemed rent
asunder, and an instant after, they found themselves transfixed upon a
rock. It was now near five o'clock in the morning. They repeatedly
fired guns of distress, hung out signals, and at daybreak beheld, with
grateful delight, a large boat, rowed by two stout females, approaching
their ship. The captain insisted that his eight passengers should go on
board the boat, whilst he and the seamen hastened to attempt the
preservation of their luggage and stores. He entreated the women to
land their charge in safety, and then return, as expeditiously as
possible, for himself and his six sailors; as the ship leaked very fast,
and though the storm was abated, they were surrounded by such a cluster
of rocks, as to deprive them of all hope of getting off in safety. The
two heroines steered their charge to the island of Stameo, a barren
rock, which they reached in about an hour. They conducted them to the
best hut on the island. It was built of mud, and was the habitation of
two sisters, and several other females, who resided under the same roof.
They produced milk, dried fish, and rye bread, for the refreshment of
their wearied and exhausted guests. They prepared a room, with beds,
for the gentlemen; and one of the boat-women gave up her own to the
lady, sleeping herself upon the oven. Hospitality, affectionate
civility, and tender solicitude for their comfort, accompanied every
action, and occupied every thought.

"In vain they sought to gain the ship a second time: the swell was so
great, and the surf so strong, that no boat could venture--no vessel
dared approach. Meanwhile, the generous crew were agitated by a
thousand fears. In vain they waited for the wished-for boat: no answer
was returned to their signals of distress--no pity shown for their
perilous state.

"Distracted by this delay, the captain ordered them to man the jolly-
boat, and arming himself and sailors with swords and pistols: 'My lads,'
said he, 'we will instantly seek our friends, and if the merciless
barbarians have robbed and murdered them, their lives shall pay the just
forfeit of their treachery.'

"The sailors instantly prepared to obey their commander. They struggled
successfully against the roaring billows, and, benumbed with horror and
despair, at length reached the shore. Here they wandered from one
wretched hovel to another, but no human voice broke upon their ear. At
length they espied a solitary cow, and, mute with apprehension, sword in
hand, they hastened to the cot near which she was trying to graze. With
a trembling hand and beating heart, the captain lifted up the latch,
and, on opening the door, imagine his joy on beholding his happy
shipmates safe. His tongue denied him utterance--tears gushed
spontaneously to his eyes: with eager grasp he pressed his lost
companions to his heart, and in the rapture of that moment, all his
former sufferings were forgotten. The hospitable board was filled
again, and every guest received a cordial welcome.

"Eleven days elapsed before the ship was again fit to put to sea. When
the hour of departure arrived, a mutual interest animated their breasts,
and gratitude broke forth in thanks, from every tongue. They begged
their kind hostesses to name the sum that would pay, as far as money
could, their offices of Christian charity. Fourteen persons, for eleven
days, to board, wash, and lodge, had nearly exhausted all their winter
store. After a short consultation, the elder sister returned, with a
large Bible, translated into the Fins language, and given to the
islanders by Gustavus Adolphus, and said: 'We are not aware that we have
acted beyond what every Christian is in duty bound to do.' Then,
opening the Bible, 'in this,' continued she, 'we learn that duty which
all our Christian brethren practise. Distress, which claims, must
always find relief while it can be obtained; if, however, it will make
you more happy, that we should take some reward, provided two rubles
(four shillings and eight-pence) be not thought too much, that sum will
amply repay us.' Then, taking the lady's hand, 'we regret,' continued
she, 'that we can never be assured of what would rejoice our hearts, and
reconcile us most to your departure, which is, that you all reach your
native land in safety, and find your parents and relations well. Then
wishing them prosperous gales, they bid farewell, and parted, probably
for ever.

"Stameo is situated in the Gulph of Finland. It is one of the small
islands nearly opposite Fredericstadt, and distant about twenty verstes
[Footnote: A Verste is about 3½ English miles.]. It is a barren rock of
granite, with scarcely any herbage, and only a few fir-trees here and
there. It is about three miles in extent, and has ten or twelve mud
huts, containing, men, women, and children, fifty souls. They were
formerly under the dominion of Sweden; but at the defeat of Charles the
Twelfth, by Peter the Great, became subject to the Russian government.
They are of the Lutheran church, though there is no place of public
worship on the island. Both men and women are expert at fishing, on
which they chiefly depend for subsistence; and keep up a sort of traffic
with Fredericstadt, exchanging fish, both dried, fresh, and pickled, for
rye, flax, wood, and vegetables. Their labour exceeds belief: they rise
at four o'clock, and instantly begin the labour of the day. The hut is
first cleaned and put in order: they then commence spinning, in which
they particularly excel, and continue working till eight at night. Their
breakfast is dispensed by the hostess of the hut, to all the family, who
eat it standing. It consists of black bread, fish dried or pickled, and
goat milk, when it is to be had: when that cannot be procured, they are
satisfied with pure water. Sixteen persons out of the fifty lived in
this hut, and were in possession of more comforts than might have been
expected.

"They are very net in their houses, persons, and dress. The bedding is
excellent: the blankets and linen are fine, warm, and white; the pillow-
cases and sheets have fine, open-worked, deep borders. Their dress is
becoming and modest, uniting warmth with convenience. The married women
hide their hair under a close, embroidered, silk cap, with a plain lace
border over their cheeks. The single women exhibit their beautiful
flaxen tresses, which they plat round their heads, or let it hang at
full length, with a knot of ribbon at the end, to confine the braid.

"Their government is truly patriarchal. The mistress of the house is
called mamma, and when advice is wanted, they assemble five or seven of
the elders, who confer on the subject, and decide, in a few minutes, on
the best means of acting. Such was the case when they determined on the
sum to be paid by the strangers.

"As soon as their youth attain the age of fourteen years, they go every
Sunday in boats to Fredericstadt, to learn their creed and catechism,
and to hear the word of God: they are also taught to read and write. In
winter, the clergyman crosses twice to them, to administer the sacrament
to the sick and aged.

"One Christian charity unites their minds. They are faithful to their
promises, honest, temperate, sober, and benevolent. They fear God, and
honour their king. In a word, they are virtuous, innocent, and happy;
and when told of vices, they seem to consider it as we do fairy tales:--
stories to listen to, but not believe.

"Two cows supply them all with milk; a few pigs with animal food: when
these fail, fish and water are the substitutes."

_Edward_. It is a very interesting account, my dear mother; but I did
not think that any people in the world were so innocent--so free from
vice. The Scriptures tell us, that the heart of man is deceitful above
all things, and desperately wicked; but this happy little community
seems quite an exception to the general rule.

"No doubt, their hearts, like those of the rest of mankind, are prone to
evil," replied Mrs. Bernard, "but being, from their insulated situation,
in a great measure removed from the commerce of men, and, consequently,
from many temptations by which the inhabitants of large societies are
beset, and making the sacred Scriptures the guide of their conduct, they
appear happily preserved from the commission of those crimes, to which
many individuals, more exposed to the temptations of the world, so
fatally fall victims. Nothing is so destructive to the morals of the
young, as indiscriminate intercourse with the world. In the bosom of
your own family, you are most likely to be secured from a temptation to
false pleasures; and there do I earnestly hope, my dear children, you
will ever find your chief enjoyment; since no felicity is so pure and
innocent, as that which results from an affectionate attachment to your
domestic circle."

_Emily_. We should be ungrateful, indeed, were we not happy at home; as
I am sure it is the constant endeavour of both you and our dear father,
to make us so.

"We are amply repaid for all our efforts," said her tender mother, "when
the smile of good-humour enlivens your countenances, and beams delight
around our little circle.

"Now, Edward, read us the extract you have made from Sir Matthew Hale's
Contemplation upon Contentment," said Mr. Bernard.

"Indeed, my dear father," replied he, "I am sorry to say I have not
finished it. I put it off on Monday and Tuesday, when I had, certainly,
plenty of time, thinking I should readily accomplish it before the end
of the week; but in consequence of this delay, and several unexpected
circumstances intervening, to employ my time, it is wtill unfinished. I
hope you will excuse this neglect, and by next Sunday I will endeavour
to be prepared."

_Mr. B_. I am sorry to see in you a sad habit of procrastination, and
want of punctuality. I assure you, my dear boy, that, to a man of
business, such a habit is more ruinous; and if not subdued in youth,
will surely grow the more confirmed by age, and blight his fairest
prospects.

Edward felt the justice of his father's reproof, and, bending his eyes
upon the ground, remained silent, forming a resolution to amend, and
hoping that he might never again incur his father's displeasure for a
similar fault.

Mr. Bernard perceived, by his countenance, what was passing in his mind,
and affectionately taking his hand, confirmed his good resolve by a
smile of approbation. Then, taking up Cecil's Remains, that lay upon the
table, he opened it, and read aloud the following passage:

"Method, as Mrs. More says, is the very hinge of business, and there is
no method without punctuality. Punctuality is important, because it
subserves the peace and good-temper of a family. The want of it not only
infringes on necessary duty, but sometimes excludes this duty.
Punctuality is important, as it gains time: it is like packing things in
a box; a good packer will get in as much again as a bad one. The
calmness of mind which it produces, is another advantage of punctuality.
A disorderly man is always in a hurry: he has no time to speak with you,
because he is going elsewhere; and, when he gets there, he is too late
for his business, or he must hurry away to another before he can finish
it. It was a wise maxim of the Duke of Newcastle:--'I do one thing at a
time.' Punctuality gives weight to character. Such a man has made an
appointment;--then I know he will keep it. And this generates
punctuality in you; for, like other virtues, it propagates itself.
Servants and children must be punctual, where their leader is so.
Appointments, indeed, become debts.--I owe you punctuality, if I have
made an appointment with you; and have no right to throw away your time,
if I do my own."

When Mr. Bernard had finished reading, Edward thanked his father, and
promised to endeavour to correct his bad habit. His parents united in
encouraging him to make a steady effort, assuring him that they felt
convinced that it would be attended with success, and recommending him
to commit to memory the preceding admirable paragraph. His father then
changed the subject, by enquiring whether Louisa had any thing new to
repeat to them before they separated. She answered in the affirmative,
and immediately recited the following lines from Miss Carter's Poems.

"Grant me, great God, a heart to thee inclin'd, Increase my faith, and
rectify my mind; Teach me by times to tread thy sacred ways, And to thy
service consecrate my days. Still, as through life's perplexing maze I
stray, Be thou the guiding star to mark my way; Conduct the steps of my
unguarded youth, And point their motions to the paths of truth. Protect
me by thy providential care, And warm my soul to shun the tempter's
snare. Through all the shifting scenes of varied life, In calms of ease,
or ruffling storms of grief; Through each event of this inconstant
state, Preserve my temper equal and sedate. Give me a mind that nobly
can despise The low designs, and little arts of vice, Be my religion
such, as taught by thee, Alike from pride and superstition free. Inform
my judgment, regulate my will, My reason strengthen, and my passions
still. To gain thy favour, be my first great end, And to that scope may
every action tend. Amidst the pleasures of a prosperous state, Whose
fluttering chains the untutor'd heart elate, May I reflect to whom those
gifts I owe, And bless the bounteous hand from whence they flow. Or, if
as adverse fortune be my share, Let not its terrors tempt me to despair;
But, fix'd on thee, a steady faith maintain, And own all good, which thy
decrees ordain; On thy unfailing providence depend, The best protector,
and the surest friend. Thus on life's stage may I my part sustain, And
at my exit, thy applauses gain. When the pale herald summons me away,
Support me in that dread catastrophe; In that last conflict guard me
from alarms, And take my soul, aspiring, to thy arms."

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