Tales And Novels, Volume 1 by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales And Novels, Volume 1

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"If any body will be so good as to teach you, I suppose you mean," said
she, smiling[2].

[Footnote 2: Vide Rousseau.]

"Will _you_ be so good?" said he: "perhaps you could teach me, though
Grace says 'tis very difficult; I'll do my best."

"Then I'll do _my_ best too," said Mad. de Rosier.

The consequences of these good resolutions were surprising to Mrs. Grace.
Master Herbert was quite changed, she observed; and she wondered why he
would never read when she took so much pains with him for an hour every
day to hear him his task. "Madame de What d'ye call her," added Mrs.
Grace, "need not boast much of the hand she has had in the business: for
I've been by at odd times, and watched her ways, whilst I have been
dressing Miss Favoretta, and she has been hearing you your task, Master
Herbert."

"She doesn't call it my task--I hate that word."

"Well, I don't know what she calls it; for I don't pretend to be a French
governess, for my part; but I can read English, Master Herbert, as well
as another; and it's strange if I could not teach my mother tongue better
than an emigrant. What I say is, that she never takes much pains one way
or the other; for by the clock in mistress's dressing-room, I minuted her
twice, and she was five minutes at one time, and not above seven the
other. Easy earning money for governesses, nowadays. No tasks!--no, not
she!--Nothing all day long but play--play--play, laughing and running,
and walking, and going to see all the shops and sights, and going out in
the coach to bring home radishes and tongue-grass, to be sure--and every
thing in the house is to be as she pleases, to be sure. I am sure my
mistress is too good to her, only because she was born a lady, they say.
Do, pray, Master Herbert, stand still, whilst I comb your hair, unless
that's against your new governess's commandments."

"I'll comb my own hair, Grace," said Herbert, manfully. "I don't like one
word you have been saying; though I don't mind any thing you, or any body
else, can say against _my friend_. She is my friend--and she has taught
me to read, I say, without bouncing me about, and shaking me, and Master
Herbert_ing_ me for ever. And what harm did it do the coach to bring home
my radishes? My radishes are come up, and she shall have some of them.
And I like the sights and shops she shows me;--but she does not like that
I should talk to you; therefore, I'll say no more; but good morning to
you, Grace."

Herbert, red with generous passion, rushed out of the room, and Grace,
pale with malicious rage, turned towards the other door that opened
into Mrs. Harcourt's bedchamber, for Mad. de Rosier, at this moment,
appeared.--"I thought I heard a great noise?"--"It was only Master
Herbert, ma'am, that _won't never_ stand still to have his hair
combed--and says he'll comb it for himself--I am sure I wish he would."

Mad. de Rosier saw, by the embarrassed manner and stifled choler of Mrs.
Grace, that the whole truth of the business had not been told, and she
repented her indiscretion in having left Herbert with her even for a few
minutes. She forbore, however, to question Herbert, who maintained a
_dignified_ silence upon the subject; and the same species of silence
would also become the historian upon this occasion, were it not necessary
that the character of an intriguing lady's maid should, for the sake both
of parents and children, be fully delineated.

Mrs. Grace, offended by Mad. de Rosier's success in teaching her former
pupil to read; jealous of this lady's favour with her mistress and with
the young ladies; irritated by the bold defiance of the indignant
champion who had stood forth in his _friend's_ defence, formed a _secret_
resolution to obtain revenge. This she imparted, the very same day, to
her confidant, Mrs. Rebecca. Mrs. Rebecca was the favourite maid of Mrs.
Fanshaw, an acquaintance of Mrs. Harcourt. Grace invited Mrs. Rebecca to
drink tea with her. As soon as the preliminary ceremonies of the
tea-table had been adjusted, she proceeded to state her grievances.

"In former times, as nobody knows better than you, Mrs. Rebecca, I had my
mistress's ear, and was all in all in the house, with her and the young
ladies, and the old governess; and it was I that was to teach Master
Herbert to read; and Miss Favoretta was almost constantly from morning to
night, except when she was called for by company, with me, and a sweet
little well-dressed creature always, you know, she was."

"A sweet little creature, indeed, ma'am, and I was wondering, before you
spoke, not to see her in your room, as usual, to-night," replied Mrs.
Rebecca.

"Dear Mrs. Rebecca, you need not wonder at that, or any thing else that's
wonderful, in our present government above stairs, I'll assure you; for
we have a new French governess, and new measures. Do you know, ma'am, the
coach is ordered to go about at all hours, whenever she pleases _for to_
take the young ladies out, and she is quite like my mistress. But no one
can bear two mistresses, you know, Mrs. Rebecca; wherefore, I'm come to a
resolution, in short, that either she or I shall quit the house, and we
shall presently see which of us it must be. Mrs. Harcourt, at the upshot
of all things, must be conscious, at the bottom of her heart, that, if
she is the elegantest dresser about town, it's not all her own merit."

"Very true indeed, Mrs. Grace," replied her complaisant friend; "and what
sums of money her millinery might cost her, if she had no one clever at
making up things at home! You are blamed by many, let me tell you, for
doing so much as you do. Mrs. Private, the milliner, I know from the best
authority, is not your friend: now, for my part, I think it is no bad
thing to have friends _abroad_, if one comes to any difficulties at home.
Indeed, my dear, your attachment to Mrs. Harcourt quite blinds you--but,
to be sure, you know your own affairs best."

"Why, I am not for changing when I am well," replied Grace: "Mrs.
Harcourt is abroad a great deal, and hers is, all things considered, a
very eligible house. Now, what I build my hopes upon, my dear Mrs.
Rebecca, is this--that ladies, like some people who have been beauties,
and come to _make themselves up_, and wear pearl powder, and false auburn
hair, and twenty things that are not to be advertised, you know, don't
like quarrelling with those that are in the secret--and ladies who have
never made a _rout_ about governesses and _edication_, till lately, and
now, perhaps, only for fashion's sake, would upon a pinch--don't you
think--rather part with a French governess, when there are so many, than
with a favourite maid who knows her ways, _and has_ a good taste in
dress, which so few can boast?"

"Oh, surely! surely!" said Mrs. Rebecca; and having tasted Mrs. Grace's
creme-de-noyau, it was decided that war should be declared against _the
governess_.

Mad. de Rosier, happily unconscious of the machinations of her enemies,
and even unsuspicious of having any, was, during this important
conference, employed in reading Marmontel's Silvain, with Isabella and
Matilda. They were extremely interested in this little play; and Mrs.
Harcourt, who came into the room whilst they were reading, actually sat
down on the sofa beside Isabella, and, putting her arm round her
daughter's waist, said--"Go on, love; let me have a share in some of your
pleasures--lately, whenever I see you, you all look the picture of
happiness--Go on, pray, Mad. de Rosier."

"It was I who was reading, mamma," said Isabella, pointing to the place
over Mad. de Rosier's shoulder--

Une femme douce et sage
A toujours tant d'avantage!
Elle a pour elle en partage
L'agrement, et la raison.'"

"Isabella," said Mrs. Harcourt, from whom a scarcely audible sigh had
escaped--"Isabella really reads French almost as well as she does
English."

"I am improved very much since I have heard Mad. de Rosier read," said
Isabella.

"I don't doubt _that_, in the least; you are, all of you, much improved,
I think, in every thing;--I am sure I feel very much obliged to Mad. de
Rosier."

Matilda looked pleased by this speech of her mother, and affectionately
said, "I am glad, mamma, you like her as well as we do--Oh, I forgot that
Mad, de Rosier was by--but it is not flattery, however."

"You see you have won all their hearts"--_from me_, Mrs. Harcourt was
near saying, but she paused, and, with a faint laugh, added--"yet you see
I am not jealous. Matilda! read those lines that your sister has just
read; I want to hear them again."

Mrs. Harcourt sent for her work, and spent the evening at home. Mad. de
Rosier, without effort or affectation, dissipated the slight feeling of
jealousy which she observed in the mother's mind, and directed towards
her the attention of her children, without disclaiming, however, the
praise that was justly her due. She was aware that she could not increase
her pupils' real affection for their mother, by urging them to
sentimental hypocrisy.

Whether Mrs. Harcourt understood her conduct this evening, she could not
discover--for politeness does not always speak the unqualified language
of the heart--hut she trusted to the effect of time, on which persons of
integrity may always securely rely for their reward. Mrs. Harcourt
gradually discovered that, as she became more interested in the
occupations and amusements of her children, they became more and more
grateful for her sympathy; she consequently grew fonder of domestic life,
and of the person who had introduced its pleasures into her family.

That we may not be accused of attributing any miraculous power to our
French governess, we shall explain the natural means by which she
improved her pupils.

We have already pointed out how she discouraged, in Isabella, the vain
desire to load her memory with historical and chronological facts, merely
for the purpose of ostentation. She gradually excited her to read books
of reasoning, and began with those in which reasoning and amusement are
mixed. She also endeavoured to cultivate her imagination, by giving her a
few well-chosen passages to read, from the best English, French, and
Italian poets. It was an easier task to direct the activity of Isabella's
mind, than to excite Matilda's dormant powers. Mad. de Rosier patiently
waited till she discovered something which seemed to please Matilda more
than usual. The first book that she appeared to like particularly was,
"Les Conversations d'Emilie:" one passage she read with great delight
aloud; and Mad. de Rosier, who perceived by the manner of reading it that
she completely understood the elegance of the French, begged her to try
if she could translate it into English: it was not more than half a page.
Matilda was not terrified at the length of such an undertaking: she
succeeded, and the praises that were bestowed upon her translation
excited in her mind some portion of ambition.

Mad. de Rosier took the greatest care in conversing with Matilda, to make
her feel her own powers: whenever she used good arguments, they were
immediately attended to; and when Matilda perceived that a prodigious
memory was not essential to success, she was inspired with courage to
converse unreservedly.

An accident pointed out to Mad. de Rosier another resource in Matilda's
education. One day Herbert called his sister Matilda to look at an ant,
which was trying to crawl up a stick; he seemed scarcely able to carry
his large white load in his little forceps, and he frequently fell back,
when he had just reached the top of the stick. Mad. de Rosier, who knew
how much of the art of instruction depends upon seizing the proper
moments to introduce new ideas, asked Herbert whether he had ever heard
of the poor snail, who, like this ant, slipped back continually, as he
was endeavouring to climb a wall twenty feet high.

"I never heard of that snail; pray tell me the story," cried Herbert.

"It is not a story--it is a question in arithmetic," replied Mad. de
Rosier. "This snail was to crawl up a wall twenty feet high; he crawled
up five feet every day, and slipped hack again four feet every night: in
how many days did he reach the top of the wall?"

"I love questions in arithmetic," exclaimed Matilda, "when they are not
too difficult!" and immediately she whispered to Mad. de Rosier the
answer to this easy question.

Her exclamation was not lost;--Mad. de Rosier determined to cultivate her
talents for arithmetic. Without fatiguing Matilda's attention by long
exercises in the common rules, she gave her questions which obliged her
to _think_, and which excited her to reason and to invent; she gradually
explained to her pupil the relations of numbers, and gave her rather more
clear ideas of the nature and use of the common rules of arithmetic than
she had acquired from her writing-master, who had taught them only in a
technical manner. Matilda's confidence in herself was thus increased.
When she had answered a difficult question, she could not doubt that she
had succeeded; this was not a matter that admitted of the uncertainty
which alarms timid tempers. Mad. de Rosier began by asking her young
arithmetician questions only when they were by themselves--but by and by
she appealed to her before the rest of the family. Matilda coloured at
first, and looked as if she knew nothing of the business; but a distinct
answer was given at last, and Isabella's opinions of her sister's
abilities rose with amazing rapidity, when she heard that Matilda
understood decimal fractions.

"Now, my dear Matilda," said Mad. de Rosier, "since you understand what
even Isabella thinks difficult, you will, I hope, have sufficient
confidence in yourself to attempt things which Isabella does not think
difficult."

Matilda shook her head--"I am not Isabella yet," said she.

"No!" cried Isabella, with generous, sincere warmth; "but you are much
superior to Isabella: I am certain that I could not answer those
difficult questions, though you think me so quick--and, when once you
have learned any thing, you never forget it; the ideas are not
superficial," continued Isabella, turning to Mad. de Rosier; "they have
depth, like the pins in mosaic work."

Mad. de Rosier smiled at this allusion, and, encouraged by her smile,
Isabella's active imagination immediately produced another simile.

"I did not know my sister's abilities till lately--till you drew them
out, Mad. de Rosier, like your drawing upon the screen in sympathetic
inks;--when you first produced it, I looked, and said there was nothing;
and when I looked again, after you had held it to the fire for a few
moments, beautiful colours and figures appeared."

Mad. de Rosier, without using any artifice, succeeded in making Isabella
and Matilda friends, instead of rivals, by placing them, as much as
possible, in situations in which they could mutually sympathize, and by
discouraging all painful competition.

With Herbert and Favoretta she pursued a similar plan. She scarcely ever
left them alone together, that she might not run the hazard of their
quarrelling in her absence. At this age children have not sufficient
command of their tempers--they do not understand the nature of society
and of justice: the less they are left together, when they are of unequal
strength, and _when they have not any employments in which they are
mutually interested_, the better. Favoretta and Herbert's petty, but loud
and violent disputes, had nearly ceased since these precautions had been
regularly attended to. As they had a great deal of amusement in the few
hours which they spent together, they grew fond of each other's company:
when Herbert was out in his little garden, he was impatient for the time
when Favoretta was to come to visit his works; and Favoretta had equal
pleasure in exhibiting to her brother her various manufactures.

Mad. de Rosier used to hear them read in Mrs. Barbauld's excellent little
books, and in "Evenings at Home;" she generally told them some
interesting story when they had finished reading, and they regularly
seated themselves, side by side, on the carpet, opposite to her.

One day Herbert established himself in what he called his "_happy
corner_," Favoretta placed herself close beside him, and Mad. de Rosier
read to them that part of Sandford and Merton in which Squire Chace is
represented beating Harry Sandford unmercifully because he refused to
tell which way the hare was gone. Mad. de Rosier observed that this story
made a great impression upon Herbert, and she thought it a good
opportunity, whilst his mind was warm, to point out the difference
between resolution and obstinacy. Herbert had been formerly disposed to
obstinacy; but this defect in his temper never broke out towards Mad. de
Rosier, because she carefully avoided urging him to do those things to
which she knew him to be adverse; and she frequently desired him to do
what she knew would be agreeable to him: she thought it best to suffer
him gradually to forget his former bad habits and false associations,
before she made any trial of his obedience; then she endeavoured to give
him new habits, by placing him in new situations. She now resolved to
address herself to his understanding, which she perceived had opened to
reason.

He exclaimed with admiration, upon hearing the account of Harry
Sandford's fortitude, "That's right!--that's right!--I am glad Harry did
not tell that cruel Squire Chace which way the hare was gone. I like
Harry for bearing to be beaten, _rather than speak a word when he did not
choose it_. I love Harry, don't you?" said he, appealing to Mad. de
Rosier.

"Yes, I like him very much," said Mad. de Rosier: "but not for the reason
that you have just given."

"No!" said Herbert, starting up: "why, ma'am, don't you like Harry for
saving the poor hare? don't you admire him for bearing all the hard
blows, and for saying, when the man asked him afterward why he didn't
tell which way the hare was gone, 'Because I don't choose to betray the
unfortunate?'"

"Oh! don't you love him for that?" said Favoretta, rising from her seat;
"I think Herbert himself would have given just such an answer, only not
in such good words. I wonder, Mad. de Rosier, you don't like that
answer!"

"I have never said that I did not like that answer," said Mad. de Rosier,
as soon as she was permitted to speak.

"Then you _do_ like it? then you do like Harry?" exclaimed Herbert and
Favoretta, both at once.

"Yes, I like that answer, Herbert; I like your friend Harry for saying
that he did not choose to betray the unfortunate. You did not do _him_
justice or yourself, when you said just now that you liked Harry because
he bore to be beaten rather than speak a word when he did not _choose
it_."

Herbert looked puzzled.

"I mean," continued Mad. de Rosier, "that, before I can determine whether
I like and admire any body for persisting in doing or in not doing any
thing, I must hear their reasons for their resolution. 'I don't choose
it,' is no reason; I must hear their reasons for choosing or not choosing
it before I can judge."

"And I have told you the reason Harry gave for not choosing to speak when
he was asked, and you said it was a good one; and you like him for his
courage, don't you?" said Herbert.

"Yes," said Mad. de Rosier; "those who are resolute, when they have good
reasons for their resolution, I admire; those who persist merely because
_they choose it_, and who cannot, or will not, tell why they choose it, I
despise."

"Oh, so do I!" said Favoretta: "you know, brother, whenever you say you
don't choose it, I am always angry, and ask you why."

"And if you were not _always_ angry," said Mad. de Rosier, "perhaps
_sometimes_ your brother would tell you why."

"Yes, that I should," said Herbert; "I always have a good reason to give
Favoretta, though I don't always choose to give it."

"Then," said Mad. de Rosier, "you cannot always expect your sister to
admire the justice of your decisions."

"No," replied Herbert; "but when I don't give her a reason, 'tis
generally because it is not worth while. There can be no great wisdom,
you know, in resolutions about trifles: such as, whether she should be my
horse or I her horse, or whether I should water my radishes before
breakfast or after."

"Certainly, you are right: there can be no great wisdom in resolutions
about such trifles, therefore wise people never are obstinate about
trifles."

"Do you know," cried Herbert, after a pause, "they used, before you came,
to say that I was obstinate; but with you I have never been so, because
you know how to manage me; you manage me a great deal more _cunningly_
than Grace used to do."

"I would not manage you more _cunningly_ than Grace used to do, if I
could," replied Mad. de Rosier; "for then I should manage you worse than
she did. It is no pleasure to me to govern you; I had much rather that
you should use your reason to govern yourself."

Herbert pulled down his waistcoat, and, drawing up his head, looked with
conscious dignity at Favoretta.

"You know," continued Mad. de Rosier, "that there are two ways of
governing people--by reason and by force. Those who have no reason, or
who do not use it, must be governed by force."

"I am not one of those," said Herbert; "for I hate force."

"But you must also love reason," said Mad. de Rosier, "if you would not
be _one of those_."

"Well, so I do, when I hear it from _you_," replied Herbert, bluntly;
"for you give me reasons that I can understand, when you ask me to do or
not to do any thing: I wish people would always do so."

"But, Herbert," said Mad. de Rosier, "you must sometimes be contented to
do as you are desired, even when I do not think it proper to give you my
reasons;--you will, hereafter, find that I have good ones."

"I have found that already in a great many things," said Herbert;
"especially about the caterpillar."

"What about the caterpillar?" said Favoretta.

"Don't you remember," said Herbert, "the day that I was going to tread
upon what I thought was a little bit of black stick, and _she_ desired me
not to do it, and I did not, and afterwards I found out that it was a
caterpillar;--ever since that day I have been more ready, you know,"
continued he, turning to Mad. de Rosier, "to believe that you might be in
the right, and to do as you bid me--you don't think me obstinate, do
you?"

"No," said Mad. de Rosier.

"No! no!--do you hear that, Favoretta?" cried Herbert joyfully: "Grace
used to say I was as obstinate as a mule, and she used to call me an ass,
too: but even poor asses are not obstinate when they are well treated.
Where is the ass, in the Cabinet of Quadrupeds, Favoretta, which we were
looking at the other day? Oh, let me read the account to you, Mad. de
Rosier. It is towards the middle of the book, Favoretta; let me look, I
can find it in a minute. It is not long--may I read it to you?"

Mad. de Rosier consented, and Herbert read as follows:--"Much has been
said of the stupid and stubborn disposition of the ass, but we are
greatly inclined to suspect that the aspersion is ill-founded: whatever
bad qualities of this kind he may sometimes possess, they do not appear
to be the consequences of any natural defect in his constitution or
temper, but arise from the manner used in training him, and the bad
treatment he receives. We are the rather led to this assertion, from
having lately seen one which experiences a very different kind of
treatment from his master than is the fate of the generality of asses.
The humane owner of this individual is an old man, whose employment is
the selling of vegetables, which he conveys from door to door on the back
of his ass. He is constantly baiting the poor creature with handfuls of
hay, pieces of bread, or greens, which he procures in his progress. It is
with pleasure we relate, for we have often curiously observed the old
man's demeanour towards his ass, that he seldom carries any instrument of
incitement with him, nor did we ever see him lift his hand to drive it
on.

"Upon our observing to him that he seemed to be very kind to his ass, and
inquiring whether he were apt to be stubborn, how long he had had him,
&c., he replied, 'Ah, master, it is no use to be cruel, and as for
stubbornness, I cannot complain, for he is ready to do any thing, and
will go any where; I bred him myself, and have had him these two years:
he is sometimes skittish and playful, and once ran away from me: you will
hardly believe it, but there were more than fifty people after him to
stop him, and they were not able to effect it, yet he turned back of
himself, and never stopped till he run his head kindly into my breast.'

"The countenance of this individual is open, lively, and cheerful; his
pace nimble and regular; and the only inducement used to make him
increase his speed is that of calling him by name, which he readily
obeys."

"I am not an ass," said Herbert, laughing, as he finished this sentence,"
but I think Mad. de Rosier is very like the good old man, and I always
obey whenever she speaks to me. By the by," continued Herbert, who now
seemed eager to recollect something by which he could show his readiness
to obey--"by the by, Grace told me that my mother desired I should go to
her, and have my hair combed every day; now I don't like it, but I will
do it, because mamma desires it, and I will go this instant; will you
come and see how still I can stand? I will show you that I am not
obstinate."

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