Flavia is very idle, and yet very fond of fine work: this makes her very often sit working in bed until noon, and will be told many a long story before she is up; so that I need not tell you, that her morning devotions are not always rightly performed.
Flavia would be a miracle of piety, if she was but half so careful of her soul, as she is of her body. The rising of a pimple in her face, or the sting of a gnat, will make her keep her room two or three days; and she thinks they are very rash people, that do not take care of things in time. This makes her so over careful of her health, that she never thinks she is well enough; and so over indulgent, that she never can be really well. So that it costs her a great deal in sleeping draughts, and waking draughts, in spirits for the head, in drops for the nerves, in cordials for the stomach, and in saffron for her tea.
If you visit Flavia on the Lord’s day, you will always meet good company; you will know what is doing in the world, and who is meant by every name that is in it. You will hear what plays were acted that week, and which is the finest song in the opera; who was intolerable at the last assembly, and what games are most in fashion. Flavia thinks they are Atheists who play at cards on the Sunday; but she will tell you the nicety of all the games, what cards she held, how she played them, and the history of all that happened at play, as soon as she comes from church. If you would know who is rude and ill-natured, who is vain and foppish, who lives too high, and who is in debt; if you would know what is the quarrel at a certain house, or who and who are in love; if you would know how late Belinda comes home at night, what cloaths she has bought, how she loves compliments, and what a long story she told at such a place; if you would know how cross Lucius is to his wife, and what ill-natured things he says to her, when no body hears him; if you would know how they hate one another in their hearts, though they appear so kind in public; you must visit Flavia on the Sunday. But still, she has so great a regard for the holiness of the Sunday, that she has turned a poor old widow out of her house, as a prophane wretch, for having been found once mending her cloaths on the Sunday night.
Thus lives Flavia; and if she lives ten years longer, she will have spent about fifteen hundred and sixty Sundays after this manner; and she will have worn about two hundred different suits of cloaths. Out of these thirty years of her life, fifteen of them will have been disposed of in bed; and of the remaining fifteen, about fourteen of them will have been consumed in eating, drinking, dressing, visiting, conversation, reading and hearing plays and romances, and attending at operas, assemblies, balls and diversions. For you may reckon all the time she is up, to be thus spent, except about an hour and a half, that is disposed of at church, most Sundays in the year. With great management, and under mighty rules of œconomy, she will have spent six thousand pounds upon herself, except some few shillings, crowns or half crowns, that have gone from her in accidental charities.
I shall not take upon me to say, that it is impossible for Flavia ever to be saved; but thus much must be said, that she has no grounds from scripture to think she is at present in the way of salvation. For her whole life is in direct opposition to all those tempers and practices, which the gospel has made necessary to salvation.
If you was to hear her say, that she had lived all her life like Anna the prophetess, “who departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day,” you would look upon her as very extravagant; and yet this would be no greater an extravagance, than for her to say, that she had been “striving to enter in at the strait gate,” or making any one doctrine or precept of the gospel, a rule of her life.
She may as well say, that she lived with our Saviour when he was upon earth, as that she has lived in imitation of him, or made it any part of her care to live in such tempers, as he required of all those that would be his disciples. She may as truly say, that she has every day washed the Saints feet, as that she has lived in christian humility and poverty of spirit; and as reasonably think, that she has taught a charity school, as that she has lived in works of charity. She hath as much reason to think, that she has been a centinel in an army, as that she has lived in watching and self-denial. And it may as fairly be said, that she had lived by the labour of her hands, as that she had given all diligence to make her calling and election sure.
Now though the irregular trifling spirit of this character, belongs I hope but to few people, yet many may here learn some instruction from it, and perhaps see something of their own spirit in it.
But not so Miranda (the sister of Flavia); she is a sober reasonable christian. As soon as she was mistress of her time and fortune, it was her first thought, how she might best fulfil every thing that God required of her in the use of them, and how she might make the best and happiest use of this short life. She depends upon the truth of what our blessed Lord hath said, “that there is but one thing needful,” and therefore makes her whole life but one continual labour after it. She has but one reason for doing or not doing, for liking or not liking any thing, and that is the will of God. She is not so weak, as to pretend to add, what is frequently falsely called the fine lady, to the true christian; Miranda thinks too well, to be taken with the sound of such silly words; she has renounced the world, to follow Christ in the exercise of humility, charity, devotion, abstinence, and heavenly affections; and that is Miranda’s fine breeding.
Whilst she was under her mother, she was forced to live in ceremony, to sit up late at night, to be in the folly of every fashion, and always visiting on Sundays; to go patched, and loaded with a burden of finery, to the holy sacrament; to be in every polite conversation; to hear prophaneness at the play-house, and wanton songs and love intrigues at the opera; to dance at public places, that fops and rakes might admire the fineness of her shape, and the beauty of her motions. The remembrance of this way of life is very grievous to her, and makes her exceeding careful to give evidences of her unfeigned repentance, by a contrary behaviour.