Domestic Pleasures, or, the Happy Fire-side Part 9

_Mr. B._This, affection and obedience, my Emily, will never fail to obtain. But let us now hear what further befell Servius. If Edward is to be the recorder of his warlike achievements, I believe we must again call upon him.

_Edward._ The Etrurians furnished him with an opportunity to increase his glory. His victories over them obtained for him the honours of a second triumph, and restored peace to his kingdom. Now, Emily, I again resign the office of narrator to you.

_Emily._ Servius employed this interval of rest, in enlarging and adorning the city. He divided the Roman territory into tribes, the citizens into six different cla.s.ses, and these cla.s.ses into centuries. A tax was levied on each century, according to the cla.s.s to which it belonged; by which means, each individual contributed towards the exigencies of the state, in exact proportion to the amount of his property. He also increased the number of the citizens, by giving liberty to the unfortunate captives taken in war; permitting them either to return to their own countries, or continue at Rome, with the enjoyment of all the privileges of free citizens. The senate were at first offended at this regard shown to a people they considered so mean; but the king addressed to them a very persuasive speech, which entirely appeased their anger, and they pa.s.sed his inst.i.tution into a law, that subsisted ever after.

_Mr. B._ Another important regulation was, taking an estimate of the population of the kingdom. It was performed every fifth year, accompanied with sacrifices, and other religious rites, which were called l.u.s.trations. This led to the computation of time amongst the Romans, by _l.u.s.tra_, or periods of five years.

_Louisa._ The most unfortunate thing Servius did, was marrying his daughters so unsuitably. His two wards, Lutius Tarquinius and Aruns, were now old enough to be capable of disturbing his government. To secure their fidelity, therefore, he determined to marry them to his two daughters; and, without consulting their dispositions, gave his eldest daughter, who was mild and gentle, to the eldest of his wards, who was fierce and haughty; and married his youngest girl, who was of a most ungovernable disposition, to Aruns, who was extremely amiable and virtuous. It was not likely that either of these marriages would prove happy ones. Tarquin's wife endeavoured, by every winning way of sweetness and insinuation, to soften the haughty fierceness of her husband's temper; whilst her sister was always urging the quiet, good- natured Aruns, to the most wicked attempts, in order to reach the throne. She loudly lamented her fate, in being tied to such an indolent, stupid husband; and being very much like Tarquin she soon began to love him a great deal better than her own husband, and, at last, proposed to him that he should murder her father and sister, together with the gentle Aruns, that they might ascend the throne together. What a dreadfully wicked woman she must have been, papa.

_Mr. B._ Dreadfully wicked, indeed, my dear. History presents us with many very painful instances of the depravity of human nature. It is a useful, but humiliating lesson. Proceed with your account, Louisa.

_Louisa._ A very little time afterwards, this wicked woman contrived to poison her amiable husband, whilst Tarquin got rid of his virtuous and gentle wife by the same means; and they were then so insolent as to ask the consent of the king and queen to their marriage. Servius and Tarquinia, though they did not give it, were silent. This disgraceful marriage was celebrated shortly after, and was followed by intrigues against the king. Tarquin and Tullia had not patience to wait till the death of the good old monarch, which would have put them into quiet possession of the crown, but endeavoured, by threats, to make him give up his authority. When Tarquin found this plan was not likely to succeed, he acted a new part. By the most affectionate behaviour, he entirely regained the king's favour, and tranquillity seemed re- established in the royal family. But it was not long before the cruel Tullia put an end to it. She reproached her husband with cowardice, insensibility, and stupidity. He was moved by these reproaches; gained a number of young patricians over to his party; and contrived a stratagem, which succeeded from the bold manner in which it was executed. I think Ferdinand can explain it to you, papa.

_Mr. B._ Well, my boy, let us hear what it was.

_Ferdinand._ He clothed himself in the royal robes, sent some of servants before, and, followed by a great number of his party, who had swords under their robes, he crossed the Forum, and came to the gate of the temple, where the senators used to a.s.semble. He then sent messengers to them all, commanding them, in king Tarquin's name, to attend immediately, and seated himself on the throne. All the senators a.s.sembled in haste; many concluded Servius was dead, and were afraid to disobey the orders of the new king. When they were all collected together, Tarquin began to rail against his father-in-law. In the midst of his speech, Servius appeared; and, being enraged by the insolence of Tarquin, rashly endeavoured to pull him from the throne. This raised a loud shout, and occasioned great confusion, but n.o.body attempted to part them. Tarquin, who was the strongest, seized the poor old man by the waist, and harrying him through the temple, threw him down from the top of the steps into the Forum. The old king, grievously hurt, and covered with blood, raised himself up with much difficulty: but all his friends had deserted him: scarcely a creature was found to lead him to his palace, which he was not allowed to reach. Tullia advised her husband to complete the b.l.o.o.d.y work he had begun; upon which he dispatched some of his servants to overtake the venerable monarch, and deprive him of his small remains of life. On her return home, the body of her murdered father, still panting, lay in the street she had to pa.s.s. This inhuman woman was not at all shocked at the horrid sight, but commanded the charioteer to drive over it. The man, who had more feeling than the cruel daughter, obeyed with reluctance; and, it is said, that not only the chariot wheels, but even the clothes of the wicked Tullia, were stained with her parent's blood.

_Edward._ Such horror was excited by these atrocities, and especially by the barbarity of Tullia, that the street in which the transaction took place, the day on which it was perpetrated, and the very name of the parricide, were branded with perpetual infamy.

_Louisa._ I am glad that shocking account is finished: it really makes one feel very uncomfortable. Servius was so good a man, too, I quite pity him.

_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 a.s.sembled 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 b.l.o.o.d.y intentions, who hara.s.s 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 ill.u.s.tration, 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 Hitt.i.te, 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 fict.i.tious 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sembled 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sengers, 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 pa.s.sengers 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 cl.u.s.ter 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 sh.o.r.e. 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and grat.i.tude 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 a.s.sured 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 3 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 a.s.semble 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 G.o.d: 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.