"This is the age of excess in every thing," replied he; "nothing is a gratification of which the want has not been previously felt. The wishes of children are all so anticipated, that they never experience the pleasure excited by wanting and waiting. Of their initiatory books they must have a pretty copious supply. But as to books of entertainment or instruction of a higher kind, I never allow them to possess one of their own, till they have attentively read and improved by it; this gives them a kind of title to it; and that desire of property, so natural to human creatures, I think stimulates them in dispatching books which are in themselves a little dry. Expectation with them, as with men, quickens desire, while possession deadens it."
By this time the children had exhausted all the refreshments set before them, and had retreated to a little further distance, where, without disturbing us, they freely enjoyed their innocent gambols: playing, singing, laughing, dancing, reciting verses, trying which could puzzle the other in the names of plants, of which they pulled single leaves to increase the difficulty, all succeeded each other. Lady Belfield looking consciously at me, said, "These are the creatures whom I foolishly suspected of being made miserable by restraint, and gloomy through want of indulgence."
"After long experience," said Mr. Stanley, "I will venture to pronounce, that not all the anxious cutting out of pleasure, not all the costly indulgences which wealth can procure, not all the contrivances of inventive man for his darling youthful offspring, can find out an amusement so pure, so natural, so cheap, so rational, so healthful, I had almost said so religious, as that unbought pleasure connected with a garden."
Kate and Celia, who had for some time been peeping into the bower, in order to catch an interval in the conversation, as soon as they found our attention disengaged, stole in among us, each took the fond father by a hand, and led him to the turf seat. Ph[oe]be presented him a book which he opened, and out of it read with infinite humor, grace, and gayety, The Diverting History of John Gilpin. This, it seems, was a pleasure to which they had been led to look forward for some time, but which, in honor of Kate, had been purposely withheld till this memorable day. His little auditors, who grouped themselves around him on the grass, were nearly convulsed with laughter, nor were the tenants of the bower much less delighted.
As we walked into the house, Mr. Stanley said, "Whenever I read to my children a light and gay composition, which I often do, I generally take care it shall be the work of some valuable author, to whose writings this shall be a pleasant and tempting prelude. What child of spirit who hears John Gilpin, will not long to be thought old and wise enough to read the 'Task?' The remembrance of the infant rapture will give a predilection for the poet. Desiring to keep their standard high, I accustom them to none but good writers, in every sense of the word; by this means they will be less likely to stoop to ordinary ones when they shall hereafter come to choose for themselves."
Lady Belfield regretted to me that she had not brought some of her children to the Grove. "To confess a disgraceful truth," said she, "I was afraid they would have been moped to death; and to confess another truth still more disgraceful to my own authority, my indulgence has been so injudicious, and I have maintained so little control, that I durst not bring some of them, for fear of putting the rest out of humor; I am now in a school where I trust I may learn to acquire firmness, without any diminution of fondness."
CHAPTER XXVI.
The next morning Mr. Stanley proposed that we should pay a visit to some of his neighbors. He and Sir John Belfield rode on horseback, and I had the honor of attending the ladies in the sociable. Lady Belfield, who was now become desirous of improving her own too relaxed domestic system by the experience of Mrs. Stanley, told her how much she admired the cheerful obedience of her children. She said, "she did not so much wonder to see them so good, but she owned she was surprised to see them so happy."
"I know not," replied Mrs. Stanley, "whether the increased insubordination of children is owing to the new school of philosophy and politics, but it seems to me to make part of the system. When I go sometimes to stay with a friend in town to do business, she is always making apologies that she can not go out with me—'her daughters want the coach.' If I ask leave to see the friends who call on me in such a room—'her daughters have company there, or they want the room for their music, or it is preparing for the children's ball in the evening.' If a messenger is required—'her daughters want the footman.' There certainly prevails a spirit of independence, a revolutionary spirit, a separation from the parent state. It is the children's world."