University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

If to confer happiness be the greatest luxury, he who
has learned to impart it, with the least labour, may be considered
an adept in a highly important science. Whoever
is ambitious of this distinction would be wise, sometimes
to consult the enjoyment of children. Here the
elastic, unsubdued spirit will co-operate with his design,
and those obstacles, which arise from habitual sorrow,
deep knowledge of the infirmity of our nature, or sickening
acquaintance with the insufficiency of earthly pleasures,
are not to be encountered.

This truth was well understood by Madam L—, and
practised with that ardour which the love of benevolence
excited. Her object was not that indulgence of the appetites,
and passions of children, which many indolent
teachers, and misguided parents seem to consider their
chief good, and the surest method of conciliating affection.
She perceived that the fondness, manifested for those who
procured them selfish gratifications, was not an enduring

attachment; and endeavoured by a judicious mixture of
kindness and instruction, to win their confidence, and impress
the truth, that they were rational and accountable
beings.

It was often her custom, on the afternoons of their stated
release from school, to assemble around her the younger
children of the neighbourhood. An invitation of this sort
was viewed by them as an honour to be boasted of, as
well as a pleasure to be enjoyed. On those gala-days,
they might be seen, seated in groups around her feet,
watching with sparkling eyes the quick movements of her
scissors, producing for their amusement, groups of dancing
girls, dexterously cut from white paper, tall trees, with
prominent buds and leaves, and squirrels, apparently ready
to spring from bough to bough. When these fanciful creations
had sufficed for a time, a small cabinet of curiosities
would often be produced, and sundry little heads might
be observed hanging over it in such close contact, that
the gold and chesnut of their locks blended in beautiful
irregularity. There, counters were considered as coins,
and trifles of slight value esteemed as splendid rarities:
yet, perhaps the connoisseur criticising the touches of the
artist, or the antiquary bending over his hoard, might
have exchanged their heartfelt satisfaction with this sportive
group, and sustained no loss. Anon, the variable little
beings would be searching for some new source of bliss;
as if Nature had already taught them that novelty was
the charm of earthly pleasure, but withheld the bitter certainty

that “all is vanity.” One of the most enterprising
might be discerned, mounted on a high chair, with
hand extended above the head, to a well known depository
of books for children. Then would be seen descending
into the wide-spread white apron of another, a shower
of tiny volumes, with gilded covers, equally the admiration,
and desire of all. There were divers copies of
“The Bag of Nuts ready cracked,” the renowned history
of “Goody Margery Two-Shoes,” and the marvellous and
dreadful exploits of the “Giant Grumbolumbo.” The
volumes at that period, appropriated to children, were
generally of meagre variety, and questionable excellence.
Miss Edgeworth had not then arisen to embody the traits
of nature and of feeling, in a vehicle of the most enchanting
simplicity; nor Miss More, to build, upon the events
of humble life, a column of pure morality, and majestic
piety; nor Mrs. Sherwood, to convey to the understanding
the precepts of a sublime faith, through the medium
of the softened affections. The pens of the sage, and the
historian, had not then learned to accommodate themselves
gracefully to the capacities of infancy. Watts had
indeed set the example of subduing poetical inspiration to
the level of untutor'd intellect. He had lured the “highborn
Urania,” to warble the cradle hymn; but he had
then neither precedent nor imitator. Great will be the
responsibility of the present generation. For them Genius
has descénded to definition, and Science disrobed herself
of the mystery of ages. But as no blessing is without
alloy, is it not to be feared that these privileges, through
Profusion, may frustrate their own design? If, through
their aid, no “royal road to astronomy” has been discovered,
has not something very like a dunce's avenue
to literature, been laid open? Will the mind, which is
released from the necessity of laborious research, obtain
that pre-eminence which habits of application can alone
bestow? Are we not in some danger of having more superficial,
than profound students? The superiour learning of
the ancients, has been resolved into a single circumstance,
—the scarcity of books. We would not willingly see a
return of that scarcity; yet it might be well for education
to impress on youth the importance of making itself
master of the necessary elementary works, as thoroughly
as if there were none beside. This might demand a perseverance
which would disturb the repose of indolence,
but it would strengthen the energies of intellect. The
respect, which, forty years since, was shewn to the extrinsic
value of books, did not diminish the sense of their
intrinsic worth. The maxim; then enforced, both by the
parent and pedagogue, that it was shameful to deface and
destroy them, heightened the estimation of their contents;
as, in monarchical governments, the sacredness of the person
of the King gives weight to his prerogative. Now,
the idler in school finds no method of escaping his lesson
more convenient, than to render it illegible, or to mislay,
and destroy his book.

Madam L—, educated in the sobriety and economy of

more ancient times, entrusted her volumes to the little
readers, with repeated injunctions not to tear, tarnish, or
turn down the leaves. These directions usually accompanied
those also, which she gave as presents, and so well
were they obeyed, that it was a general remark, no books
retained their beauty so long as hers, whether lent, given
away, or retained in her own library.

Some of these fairy forms might sometimes be descried
in closer contact with the Lady, displaying their powers
of recitation. Then, might be heard, in every variety of
emphasis and intonation, the standard pieces of the day,
“How doth the little busy bee,”—“Abroad in the meadows
to see the young lambs,”—or “Though I am young,
a little one.” Thus, an opportunity was afforded for inquiry
into their different grades of improvement at school,
and for those admonitions respecting the value of time,
industry, and correct habits, which she was as faithful to
impress as she was happy to adapt to different dispositions,
and degrees of improvement.

These little groups could not be persuaded to separate,
without a song from their kind patroness. Her memory,
well stored with songs which had been fashionable in her
youth, and her voice, of great melody and compass, were
always at the command of these lilliputian visitants; for
she felt that she not only thus gave them pleasure, but
cherished gentle, and virtuous sentiments. “The distracted
Lady,” a tender and melancholy complaint of a
young female, bereft of reason, was a great favourite with

the auditors. So was “Indulgent parents dear,” an ancient
ballad of considerable length, and most tragical
character. Many an eye, that sparkled with curiosity,
when the hero of the tale, moved by love, sought the
hand of a “maid of low degree,” was dilated with horrour,
when his proud mother took the life of the kneeling fair-one;
or was suffused with tears, when the unfortunate
youth, discovering the deed, and reproaching the guilty
murderess—

The address of the “Ghost of Pompey to his wife Cornelia,”
was considered as the climax of this part of the
entertainment. It is here subjoined, as a specimen of the
grave song, admired at that period among the better educated
part of the community. Its antiquity is not known
to the writer, but it has been used as a song in Connecticut,
for more than a century.

Perhaps some young mind imperceptibly imbibed a love
for the lore of Rome, from the explanations often connected
with these quaint stanzas, whose tune, by her manner
of execution, possessed exquisite harmony. Inquiries,
from the more intelligent, would invariably follow, about
Rome and Cæsar, and “Cynthia's borrow'd beams,”
which the Lady answered in such a manner as to excite

stronger curiosity. She would then direct them to proper
books for gaining requisite knowledge, and propose questions
to be answered respecting it, at their next meeting.
Frequently, during the intervals of these parties, the infant
students might be heard asking each other, “do you
know perfectly where Rome was? and how large? and
who was its founder? and what were the characters of
Pompey and Cæsar? and why Cynthia's beams are said
to be “borrow'd beams?” Each was anxious to render
the most clear account to their kind benefactress, who
often rewarded patient research, with some book adapted
to excite it anew. But, not satisfied with sowing the seeds
of knowledge in the soil of infancy, she sought to implant
the germs of piety. Her stock of devotional pieces of music
was large; many of them simple in their construction,
—all rendered delightful by her powers of voice, and
perfect elocution. One called “Solitude,” and commencing
with “What voice is this I hear?” and another, which
the children familiarly styled, “Ah me!” were earnestly
sought for, and seemed to inspire a mixture of softened
and solemn feeling. “While shepherds watch'd their
flocks by night,” was understood by them as a close of
their musical entertainment, or a signal that as much as
was proper had been accorded. Yet a few tender remarks
usually followed, on the character of that Saviour who was
thus represented as bringing peace and good will, with a
brief illustration of their duty in order to gain his love.
An early supper was given to these joyous guests, most of
whom were accustomed to retire to slumber with the birds.
Full of pleasure, which seemed more dignified than that
usually exemplified in childhood, because it was derived
from a higher source, they separated, praising the benevolent
Lady, who expressed such an interest in their welfare.

A description of scenes like these will doubtless be
condemned by many, as puerile. They will immediately
discern in it proofs of that mental dotage, which leads us,
in our second childhood, to cling tenderly to the most
minute traces of the first.

They may perhaps inquire, of what consequence is it
if the children of another age were amused and improved
at the same time? Probably of none, to those who are
willing theirs should find amusement, at the expense of
improvement. But it was deemed of some importance,
in pourtraying a character which really existed, to represent
things as they were. It was not thought improper
to follow the smaller streams, which might diverge from
so pure a fountain. The science of conferring happiness
depends less upon splendid achievements, and fortuitous
combinations of circumstance, than upon those smaller
occurrences, which vary the common lot of existence: as
the evidence of piety, is not so much in sustaining great
affliction, as in surmounting those slighter perplexities,
where, if we may use the expression, the soul imagines
herself to be out of sight of the Deity. Yet might this
simple delineation, of what one of the best of human
beings was, in the humbler walks of her benevolence, induce

but one heart to exercise the same friendly influence
over the welfare of the rising generation, cheerfully should
this volume sustain all the censure which the critic might
pronounce. More than one of those, who now bend
beneath the burdens of maturity, can look back to the
scenes of happy youthful instruction which have been
here depicted, then upward to the realm of glory, and
say,—

No heart ought more warmly to respond these sentiments,
than that which now thrills, even to tears, while
the hand traces this feeble transcript of its benefactress.
That gratitude, which hovers round her bright image, revolts,
both at the veil which conceals it, and at the faintness
of its own pencil. It is not meet here to speak of personal
obligations, of the kindness that encouraged a lonely
spirit, and the monitions that strove to guide it in the
way to heaven. The still voice of memory is idle music
in the ear of the world. Thus far, the full heart has forced
the pen to trespass. The remainder shall be inscribed
upon a tablet which fades not, and which will be
spread where the righteous hear the words, “Inasmuch
as ye have done good unto one of the least of these, ye
have done it unto me.”

There was, about this noble female, an union of majesty
with mildness, which I have never seen equalled.

Doubtless, much of excellence exists in modern times,
and my lot has been so graciously cast by heaven, as often
to bring me into contact with some of the purest and best,
some who still retain traces of that disinterested benevolence,
which the cynic pronounces to have fled from the
earth. Yet, whether it be that more of sublimity really
belonged to the worthies of ancient days, or whether the
moral perceptions, like the physical tastes, of childhood
possess a keenness, a zest, which never again return, I
cannot say; but there seems to me nothing now on earth,
like the hallowed, saintlike dignity of a few who were
serenely awaiting their departure from this world, when I
had just entered it.

Should any visitant of N— ever direct his steps to the
spot, where its lifeless inhabitants rest from their labours,
perchance he might descry a simple white stone, bearing
one inspired passage from the man of wisdom. At its foot,
a smaller monument testifies, that Death smiteth the bud
in its greenness, and that a mother had thrice wept. By
its side, another speaks, in its marble stillness, the words
of the moral poet,

Let the stranger, who discovers these vestiges, know
that his foot presses the dust of her, of whom “the world
was not worthy.” And, if he believe that the righteous

shall rise to immortality, at the “voice of the archangel,
and at the trump of God,” let him kneel over their slumbering
ashes, and breathe the soul's voiceless prayer, that
he may live their life.