Having gained this point, Mrs. Meredith Vyner sallied forth to pay some visits to her poor.
The devil is not so black as he is painted. Mrs. Vyner had her good qualities: and she was worshipped in her village. No one was so liberal to the poor; no one looked after the schools with greater or more judicious care; no one was more active in benevolence. She not only did kind things, she said them also; and that is an element in benevolence many charitable people omit. She attended upon the sick; she comforted the sorrowing; she listened to their long stories; she gave them advice; she interested herself in their joys and sorrows.
From what we know of her, we shall not be altogether dupes of this benevolence: we shall not suppose it pure, unmixed kindness. But it would perhaps be grossly wronging her to believe that it was hypocrisy, that it had not some real good feeling at the bottom. Although we may, and not uncharitably, suppose there was some selfishness and ostentation in this care for the poor; we may also believe that she felt some of the real glow of generosity and delight in doing good. In the ordinary sense of the word, she had no "interest" in her conduct. She might have done her duty to the poor without going so far as she did. Their good opinion was of no "use" to her. Examine it how you will, you can discover none of the "interested motives" usually supposed to influence the benevolence of selfish people.
Such a character is a paradox; but only a paradox, because we are so prone to regard human nature as very simple and all of a piece, when, in truth, it is, as I have remarked before, marvellously complex. Mrs. Meredith Vyner was wicked, cruel, unloving, and selfish; it would be a contradiction in terms, to add that she was also kind, generous, and benevolent; but it is perfectly true that she would occasionally perform kind, generous, and benevolent actions perfectly disinterested. The secret I take to be this. Her cruelty was not wanton: it always had reference to some selfish object. But on occasions completely alien to her interest or her vanity, she could be kind; and being an impulsive, imaginative woman where she was kind, she was strikingly so, thereby turning it into a thing of éclat, and so gratifying her vanity.
It was said of himself, by Benjamin Constant, "Je puis faire de bonnes et fortes actions; je ne puis avoir de bons precédés." This is a revelation of the profound depths of certain minds; and Mrs. Vyner belonged to that class. In a moment of enthusiasm she might even have forgotten her selfishness—or rather have staked all the gratification of her selfishness on the triumph of one moment; but she could not have completed her sacrifice, she could not have gone through with any line of conduct after it had lost its éclat; above all, she could not, in the ordinary transactions of life, have been generous, thoughtful, kind—she could not go through "the little nameless unremembered acts of kindness and of love" which constitute real goodness.
Her conduct towards the poor seems to be thus explained: they did not stand in her light; nothing she could do, or omit to do for them could influence her interests. But they were picturesque objects which struck her imagination, and appealed to her protection. A little trouble and a little money made her their benefactress. The pleasure of doing good was a pleasure she could appreciate, and it could be purchased for so little.
If any one supposes from the foregoing remarks, that I have what is called explained away her benevolence, he is mistaken. There are hundreds quite as selfish, who cannot appreciate the pleasure of doing good; and she is so far their superior.
CHAPTER VI.
FAINT HEARTS AND FAIR LADIES.
On this old beach
For hours she sat; and evermore her eye
Was busy in the distance, shaping things
That made her heart beat quick.
WORDSWORTH.—Excursion.