Coelebs In Search of a Wife Part 2

She stared, and said she had never heard of the person I mentioned, but that she had read Tears of Sensibility, and Rosa Matilda, and Sympathy of Souls, and Too Civil by Half, and the Sorrows of Werter, and the Stranger, and the Orphans of Snowdon.

"Yes, sir," joined in the younger sister, who did not rise to so high a pitch of literature, "and we have read Perfidy Punished, and Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy, and the Fortunate Footman, and the Ill.u.s.trious Chambermaid." I blushed and stared in my turn; and here the conversation, through the difficulty of our being intelligible to each other, dropped; and I am persuaded that I sunk much lower in their esteem for not being acquainted with their favorite authors, than they did in mine for having never heard of Virgil.

I arose from the table with a full conviction that it is very possible for a woman to be totally ignorant of the ordinary but indispensable, duties of common life without knowing one word of Latin; and that her being a bad companion is no infallible proof of her being a good economist.

I am afraid the poor father saw something of my disappointment in my countenance, for when we were alone in the evening, he observed, that a heavy addition to his other causes of regret for the loss of his wife, was her excellent management of his family. I found afterward that, though she had brought him a great fortune, she had had a very low education. Her father, a coa.r.s.e country esquire, to whom the pleasures of the table were the only pleasures for which he had any relish, had no other ambition for his daughter but that she should be the most famous housewife in the country. He gloried in her culinary perfections, which he understood; of the deficiencies of her mind he had not the least perception. Money and good eating, he owned, were the only things in life which had a real intrinsic value; the value of all other things, he declared, existed in the imagination only.

The poor lady, when she became a mother, and was brought out into the world, felt keenly the deficiencies of her own education. The dread of Scylla, as is usual, wrecked her on Charybdis. Her first resolution, as soon as she had daughters, was, that they should _learn every thing_.

All the masters who teach things of little intrinsic use were extravagantly paid for supernumerary attendance; and as no one in the family was capable of judging of their improvements, their progress was but slow. Though they were taught much, they learned but little, even of these unnecessary things; and of things necessary they learned nothing.

Their well-intentioned mother was not aware that her daughters'

education was almost as much calculated to gratify the senses, though in a different way, and with more apparent refinement, as her own had been; and that _mind_ is left nearly as much out of the question in making an ordinary artist as in making a good cook.

CHAPTER IV.

From my fondness for conversation, my imagination had been early fired with Dr. Johnson's remark, that there is no pleasure on earth comparable to the _fine full flow of London talk_. I, who, since I had quitted college had seldom had my mind refreshed, but with the petty rills and penurious streams of knowledge which country society afforded, now expected to meet it in a strong and rapid current, fertilizing wherever it flowed, producing in abundance the rich fruits of argument, and the gay flowers of rhetoric. I looked for an uninterrupted course of profit and delight. I flattered myself that every dinner would add to my stock of images; that every debate would clear up some difficulty, every discussion elucidate some truth; that every allusion would be purely cla.s.sical, every sentence abound with instruction, and every period be pointed with wit.

On the tiptoe of expectation I went to dine with Sir John Belfield, in Cavendish-square. I looked at my watch fifty times. I thought it would never be six o'clock. I did not care to show my country breeding, by going too early, to incommode my friend, nor my town breeding, by going too late, and spoiling his dinner. Sir John is a valuable, elegant-minded man, and, next to Mr. Stanley, stood highest in my father's esteem for his mental accomplishments and correct morals. As I knew he was remarkable for a.s.sembling at his table men of sense, taste, and learning, my expectations of pleasure were very high. "Here, at least," said I as I heard the name of one clever man announced after another, "here at least, I can not fail to find

The feast of reason and the flow of soul:

here, at least, all the energies of my mind will be brought into exercise. From this society I shall carry away doc.u.ments for the improvement of my taste; I shall treasure up hints to enrich my understanding, and collect aphorisms for the conduct of life."

At first there was no fair opportunity to introduce any conversation beyond the topics of the day, and to those, it must be confessed, this eventful period gives a new and powerful interest. I should have been much pleased to have had my country politics rectified, and any prejudices, which I might have contracted, removed or softened, could the discussion have been carried on without the frequent interruption of the youngest man in the company. This gentleman broke in on every remark, by descanting successively on the merits of the various dishes; and, if it be true that experience only can determine the judgment, he gave proof of that best right to peremptory decision by not trusting to delusive theory, but by actually eating of every dish at table.

His animadversions were uttered with the gravity of a German philosopher, and the science of a French cook. If any of his opinions happened to be controverted, he quoted in confirmation of his own judgment, _l'Almanac des Gourmands_, which he a.s.sured us was the most valuable work that had appeared in France since the Revolution. The author of this book he seemed to consider of as high authority in the science of eating, as c.o.ke or Hale in that of jurisprudence, or Quintilian in the art of criticism. To the credit of the company, however, be it spoken, he had the whole of this topic to himself. The rest of the party were, in general, of quite a different calibre, and as little acquainted with his favorite author, as he probably was with theirs.

The lady of the house was perfectly amiable and well-bred. Her dinner was excellent; and every thing about her had an air of elegance and splendor; of course she completely escaped the disgrace of being thought a scholar, but not the suspicion of having a very good taste. I longed for the removal of the cloth, and was eagerly antic.i.p.ating the pleasure and improvement which awaited me.

As soon as the servants were beginning to withdraw, we got into a sort of att.i.tude of conversation; all except the eulogist of l'Almanac des Gourmands, who, wrapping himself up in the comfortable consciousness of his own superior judgment, and a little piqued that he had found neither support nor opposition (the next best thing to a professed talker), he seemed to have a perfect indifference to all topics except that on which he had shown so much eloquence with so little effect.

The last tray was now carried out, the last lingering servant had retired. I was beginning to listen with all my powers of attention to an ingenious gentleman who was about to give an interesting account of Egypt, where he had spent a year, and from whence he was lately returned. He was just got to the catacombs,

When on a sudden open fly, With impetuous recoil and jarring sound,

the mahogany folding doors, and in at once, struggling who should be first, rushed half a dozen children, lovely, fresh, gay, and noisy. This sudden and violent irruption of the pretty barbarians necessarily caused a total interruption of conversation. The sprightly creatures ran round the table to choose where they would sit. At length this great difficulty of courts and cabinets, _the choice of places_, was settled.

The little things were jostled in between the ladies, who all contended who should get possession of the _little beauties_. One was in raptures with the rosy cheeks of a sweet girl she held in her lap. A second exclaimed aloud at the beautiful lace with which the frock of another was trimmed, and which she was sure mamma had given her for being good.

A profitable, and doubtless a lasting and inseparable a.s.sociation was thus formed in the child's mind between lace and goodness. A third cried out, "Look at the pretty angel!--do but observe--her bracelets are as blue as her eyes. Did you ever see such a match?" "Surely, Lady Belfield," cried a fourth, "you carried the eyes to the shop, or there must have been a shade of difference." I myself, who am pa.s.sionately fond of children, eyed the sweet little rebels with complacency, notwithstanding the unseasonableness of their interruption.

At last, when they were all disposed of, I resumed my inquiries about the resting-place of the mummies. But the grand dispute who should have oranges and who should have almonds and raisins, soon raised such a clamor that it was impossible to hear my Egyptian friend. This great contest was, however, at length settled, and I was returning to the antiquities of Memphis, when the important point, who should have red wine, and who should have white, who should have half a gla.s.s, and who a whole one, set us again in an uproar. Sir John was visibly uneasy, and commanded silence. During this interval of peace, I gave up the catacombs and took refuge in the pyramids. But I had no sooner proposed my question about the serpent said to be found in one of them, than the son and heir, a fine little fellow just six years old, reaching out his arm to dart an apple across the table at his sister, roguishly intending to overset her gla.s.s, unluckily overthrew his own, brimful of port wine.

The whole contents were discharged on the elegant drapery of a white-robed nymph.

All was now agitation, and distress, and disturbance, and confusion; the gentlemen ringing for napkins, the ladies a.s.sisting the dripping fair one; each vying with the other who should recommend the most approved specific for getting out the stain of red wine, and comforting the sufferer by stories of similar misfortunes. The poor little culprit was dismissed, and all difficulties and disasters seemed at last surmounted.

But you can not heat up again an interest which has been so often cooled. The thread of conversation had been so frequently broken that I despaired of seeing it tied together again. I sorrowfully gave up catacombs, pyramids, and serpent, and was obliged to content myself with a little desultory chat with my next neighbor; sorry and disappointed to glean only a few scattered ears where I had expected so abundant a harvest; and the day from which I had promised myself so much benefit and delight pa.s.sed away with a very slender acquisition of either.

CHAPTER V.

I went almost immediately after, at the invitation of Mr. Ranby, to pa.s.s a few days at his villa at Hampstead. Mr. and Mrs. Ranby were esteemed pious persons, but having risen to great affluence by a sudden turn of fortune in a commercial engagement, they had a little self-sufficiency, and not a little disposition to ascribe an undue importance to wealth.

This I should have thought more pardonable under their circ.u.mstances, had I not expected that religion would in this respect have more than supplied the deficiencies of education. Their religion, however, consisted almost exclusively in a disproportionate zeal for a very few doctrines. And though they were far from being immoral in their own practice, yet, in their discourse, they affected to undervalue morality.

This was, indeed, more particularly the case with the lady, whose chief object of discourse seemed to be, to convince me of her great superiority to her husband in polemical skill. Her chaste conversation certainly was not coupled with fear. In one respect she was the very reverse of those pharisees who were scrupulously exact about their petty observances. Mrs. Ranby was, on the contrary, anxious about a very few important particulars, and exonerated herself from the necessity of all inferior attentions. She was strongly attached to one or two preachers, and discovered little candor for all others, or for those who attended them. Nay, she somewhat doubted of the soundness of the faith of her friends and acquaintance who would not incur great inconvenience to attend one or other of her favorites.

Mrs. Ranby's table was "more than hospitably good." There was not the least suspicion of Latin here. The eulogist of female ignorance might have dined in comfortable security against the intrusion and vanity of erudition. She had three daughters, not unpleasing young women. But I was much concerned to observe, that they were not only dressed to the very extremity of fas.h.i.+on, but their drapery was as transparent, as short, and as scanty, there was as sedulous a disclosure of their persons, and as great a redundancy of ornaments, as I had seen in the gayest circles.

"Expect not perfection," said my good mother, "but look for _consistency_." This principle my parents had not only taught me in the closet, but had ill.u.s.trated by their deportment in the family and in the world. They observed a uniform correctness in their general demeanor.

They were not over anxious about character for its own sake, but they were tenderly vigilant not to bring any reproach on the Christian name by imprudence, negligence, or inconsistency, even in small things.

"Custom," said my mother, "can never alter the immutable nature of right; fas.h.i.+on can never justify any practice which is improper in itself; and to dress indecently is as great an offence against purity and modesty, when it is the fas.h.i.+on, as when it is obsolete. There should be a line of demarcation somewhere. In the article of dress and appearance, Christian mothers should make a stand. They should not be so unreasonable as to expect that a young girl will of herself have courage to oppose the united temptations of fas.h.i.+on without, and the secret prevalence of corruption within: and authority should be called in where admonition fails."

The conversation after dinner took a religious turn. Mrs. Ranby was not unacquainted with the subject, and expressed herself with energy on many serious points. I could have been glad, however, to have seen her views a little more practical; and her spirit a little less censorious. I saw she took the lead in debate, and that Mr. Ranby submitted to act as subaltern, but whether his meekness was the effect of piety or fear, I could not at that time determine. She protested vehemently against all dissipation, in which I cordially joined her, though I hope with something less intemperance of manner, and less acrimony against those who pursued it. I began, however, to lose sight of the errors of the daughters' dress in the pleasure I felt at conversing with so pious a mother of a family. For pious she really was, though her piety was a little debased by coa.r.s.eness, and not a little disfigured by asperity.

I was sorry to observe that the young ladies not only took no part in the conversation, but that they did not even seem to know what was going on, and I must confess the _manner_ in which it was conducted was not calculated to make the subject interesting. The girls sat jogging and whispering each other, and got away as fast as they could.

As soon as they were withdrawn--"There sir," said the mother, "are three girls who will make three excellent wives. They were never at a ball or a play in their lives; and yet, though I say it, who should not say it, they are as highly accomplished as any ladies at St. James." I cordially approved the former part of her a.s.sertion, and bowed in silence to the latter.

I took this opportunity of inquiring what had been her mode of religious instruction for her daughters; but though I put the question with much caution and deference, she looked displeased, and said she did not think it necessary to do a great deal in that way; all these things must come from above; it was not human endeavors, but divine grace which made Christians. I observed that the truth appeared to be, that divine grace _blessing_ human endeavors seemed most likely to accomplish that great end. She replied that experience was not on my side, for that the children of religious parents were not always religious. I allowed that it was too true. I knew that she drew her instances from two or three of her own friends, who, while they discovered much earnestness about their own spiritual interests, had almost totally neglected the religious cultivation of their children; the daughters in particular had been suffered to follow their own devices, and to waste their days in company of their own choosing and in the most frivolous manner. "What do ye more than others?" is an interrogation which this negligence has frequently suggested. Nay, professing serious piety, if ye do not more than those who profess it not, ye do less.

I took the liberty to remark that though there was no such thing as hereditary holiness, no entail of goodness; yet the Almighty had promised in the Scriptures many blessings to the offspring of the righteous. He never meant, however, that religion was to be transferred arbitrarily like an heir-loom; but the promise was accompanied with conditions and injunctions. The directions were express and frequent, to inculcate early and late the great truths of religion; nay, it was enforced with all the minuteness of detail, "precept upon precept, line upon line, here a little, and there a little"--at all times and seasons, "walking by the way, and sitting in the house." I hazarded the a.s.sertion, that it would _generally_ be found that where the children of pious parents turned out ill, there had been some mistake, some neglect, or some fault on the part of the parents; that they had not used the right methods. I observed that I thought it did not at all derogate from the sovereignty of the Almighty that he appointed certain means to accomplish certain ends; and that the adopting these, in conformity to his appointment, and dependence on his blessing, seemed to be one of the cases in which we should prove our faith by our obedience.

I found I had gone too far: she said, with some warmth, that she was not wanting in any duty to her daughters; she set them a good example, and she prayed daily for their conversion. I highly commended her for both, but risked the observation, "that praying without instilling principles, might be as inefficacious as instruction without prayer. That it was like a husbandman who should expect that praying for suns.h.i.+ne should produce a crop of corn in a field where not one grain had been sown.

G.o.d, indeed, _could_ effect this, but he does not do it; and the means being of his own appointment, his omnipotence is not less exerted, by his directing certain effects to follow certain causes, than it would be by any arbitrary act." As it was evident that she did not choose to quarrel with me, she contented herself with saying coldly, that she perceived I was a _legalist_, and had but a low view of divine things.

At tea I found the young ladies took no more interest in the conversation, than they had done at dinner, but sat whispering and laughing, and netting white silk gloves till they were summoned to the harpsichord. Despairing of getting on with them in company, I proposed a walk in the garden. I now found them as willing to talk, as dest.i.tute of any thing to say. Their conversation was vapid and frivolous. They laid great stress on small things. They seemed to have no shades in their understanding, but used the strongest terms for the commonest occasions, and admiration was excited by things hardly worthy to command attention.

They were extremely glad, and extremely sorry, on subjects not calculated to excite affections of any kind. They were animated about trifles, and indifferent on things of importance. They were, I must confess, frank and good-natured, but it was evident, that as they were too open to have any thing to conceal, so they were too uninformed to have any thing to produce: and I was resolved not to risk my happiness with a woman who could not contribute her full share toward spending a wet winter cheerfully in the country.

The next day, all the hours from breakfast to dinner were devoted to the harp. I had the vanity to think that this sacrifice of time was made in compliment to me, as I had professed to like music; till I found that all their mornings were spent in the same manner, and the only fruit of their education, which seemed to be used to any purpose was, that after their family devotions in the evening, they sung and played a hymn. This was almost the only sign they gave of intellectual or spiritual life.

They attended morning prayers if they were dressed before the bell rang.

One morning when they did not appear till late, they were reproved by their father; Mrs. Ranby said, "she should be more angry with them for their irregularity, were it not that Mr. Ranby obstinately persisted in reading a printed form which she was persuaded could not do any body much good." The poor man, who was really well disposed, very properly defended himself by saying, that he hoped his own heart went along with every word he read; and as to his family, he thought it much more beneficial for them to join in an excellent composition of a judicious divine, than to attend to any such crude rhapsody as he should be able to produce, whose education had not qualified him to lead the devotions of others. I had never heard him venture to make use of his understanding before; and I continued to find it much better than I had at first given him credit for. The lady observed, with some asperity, that where there were _gifts_ and _graces_, it superseded the necessity of learning.

In vindication of my own good breeding, I should observe that in my little debates with Mrs. Ranby, to which I was always challenged by her, I never lost sight of that becoming example of the son of Cato, who, when about to deliver sentiments which might be thought too a.s.suming in so young a man, introduced his admonitions with the modest preface,

Remember what our _father_ oft has taught us.

I, without quoting the son of the sage of Utica, constantly adduced the paternal authority for opinions which might savor too much of arrogance without such a sanction.

I observed, in the course of my visit, that self-denial made part of Mrs. Ranby's religious plan. She fancied, I believe that it savored of works, and of works she was evidently afraid. She talked as if activity were useless, and exertion unnecessary, and as if, like inanimate matter, we had nothing to do but sit still and be shone upon.

I a.s.sured her that though I depended on the mercy of G.o.d, through the merits of his Son, for salvation, as entirely as she could do, yet I thought that Almighty grace, so far from setting aside diligent exertion, was the principle which promoted it. That salvation is in no part of Scripture represented as attainable by the indolent Christian, if I might couple such contradictory terms. That I had been often awfully struck with the plain declarations, "that the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence"--"strive to enter in at the strait gate"--"whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might"--"give diligence to make your calling sure"--"work out your own salvation." To this labor, this watchfulness, this sedulity of endeavor, the crown of life is expressly promised, and salvation is not less the free gift of G.o.d, because he has annexed certain conditions to our obtaining it.

The more I argued, the more I found my reputation decline, yet to argue she compelled me. I really believe she was sincere, but she was ill informed, governed by feelings and impulses, rather than by the plain express rule of Scripture. It was not that she did not read Scripture, but she interpreted it her own way; built opinions on insulated texts; did not compare Scripture with Scripture, except as it concurred to strengthen her bias. She considered with a disproportionate fondness, those pa.s.sages which supported her preconceived opinions, instead of being uniformly governed by the general tenor and spirit of the sacred page. She had far less reverence for the preceptive, than for the doctrinal parts, because she did not sufficiently consider faith as an operative influential principle; nor did she conceive that the sublimest doctrines involve deep practical consequences. She did not consider the government of the tongue, nor the command of her pa.s.sions, as forming any material part of the Christian character. Her zeal was fiery because her temper was so; and her charity was cold because it was an expensive propensity to keep warm. Among the perfections of the Redeemer's character, she did not consider his being "meek and lowly" as an example, the influence of which was to extend to her. She considered it indeed as _admirable_ but not as _imitable_; a distinction she was very apt to make in all her practical dissertations, and in her interpretation of Scripture.

In the evening Mrs. Ranby was lamenting in general and rather customary terms, her own exceeding sinfulness. Mr. Ranby said, "You accuse yourself rather too heavily, my dear: you have sins to be sure." "And pray what sins have I, Mr. Ranby?" said she, turning upon him with so much quickness that the poor man started. "Nay," said he meekly, "I did not mean to offend you; so far from it, that hearing you condemn yourself so grievously, I intended to comfort you, and to say that except a few faults--" "And pray what faults?" interrupted she, continuing to speak however, lest he should catch an interval to tell them. "I defy you, Mr. Ranby, to produce one." "My dear," replied he, "as you charged yourself with all, I thought it would be letting you off cheaply by naming only two or three, such as--." Here, fearing matters would go too far, I interposed, and softening things as much as I could for the lady, said, "I conceived that Mr. Ranby meant, that though she partook of the general corruption--" Here Ranby, interrupting me with more spirit than I thought he possessed, said "General corruption, sir, must be the source of particular corruption: I did not mean that my wife was worse than other women."--"Worse, Mr. Ranby, worse?" cried she.

Ranby, for the first time in his life, not minding her, went on, "As she is always insisting that the whole species is corrupt, she can not help allowing that she herself has not quite escaped the infection. Now to be a sinner in the gross and a saint in the detail; that is, to have all sins, and no faults, is a thing I do not quite comprehend."