Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
"What we all suffered on this occasion may more easily be felt than
described."---"It may indeed," answered Amelia, "and I am so sensible
of it, that, unless you have a mind to see me faint before your face,
I beg you will order me something; a glass of water, if you please.
"Mrs. Bennet immediately complied with her friend's request; a glass
of water was brought, and some hartshorn drops infused into it; which
Amelia having drank off, declared she found herself much better; and
then Mrs. Bennet proceeded thus:--"I will not dwell on a scene which I
see hath already so much affected your tender heart, and which is as
disagreeable to me to relate as it can be to you to hear. I will
therefore only mention to you the behaviour of my father on this
occasion, which was indeed becoming a philosopher and a Christian
divine. On the day after my mother's funeral he sent for my sister and
myself into his room, where, after many caresses and every
demonstration of fatherly tenderness as well in silence as in words,
he began to exhort us to bear with patience the great calamity that
had befallen us; saying, 'That as every human accident, how terrible
soever, must happen to us by divine permission at least, a due sense
of our duty to our great Creator must teach us an absolute submission
to his will. Not only religion, but common sense, must teach us this;
for oh! my dear children,' cries he, 'how vain is all resistance, all
repining! could tears wash back again my angel from the grave, I
should drain all the juices of my body through my eyes; but oh, could
we fill up that cursed well with our tears, how fruitless would be all
our sorrow!'--I think I repeat you his very words; for the impression
they made on me is never to be obliterated. He then proceeded to
comfort us with the chearful thought that the loss was entirely our
own, and that my mother was greatly a gainer by the accident which we
lamented. 'I have a wife,' cries he, 'my children, and you have a
mother, now amongst the heavenly choir; how selfish therefore is all
our grief! how cruel to her are all our wishes!' In this manner he
talked to us near half an hour, though I must frankly own to you his
arguments had not the immediate good effect on us which they deserved,
for we retired from him very little the better for his exhortations;
however, they became every day more and more forcible upon our
recollection; indeed, they were greatly strengthened by his example;
for in this, as in all other instances, he practised the doctrines
which he taught. From this day he never mentioned my mother more, and
soon after recovered his usual chearfulness in public; though I have
reason to think he paid many a bitter sigh in private to that
remembrance which neither philosophy nor Christianity could expunge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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