A Genlis Education and Enlightenment Values: Mrs Chinnery (1766–1840) and her Children 9781032171807, 9781003252146

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
List of figures
Acknowledgements
List of abbreviations
Introduction
1 Family and education
2 Early married life
3 The education journal
4 Paris during the Peace
5 The Golden Age
6 Oxford
7 Caroline grown up
8 Glory achieved
9 George’s career
Conclusion
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

A Genlis Education and Enlightenment Values

Offering a unique approach to the study of late eighteenth-century/early nineteenth-century education, this book explores the life and motivations of a strong-minded, self-educated and enlightened English gentlewoman, Mrs Margaret Chinnery, who put Madame de Genlis’s educational ideas into practice with marked success. Beginning with a brief outline of Margaret’s own childhood and her adolescent efforts to educate herself, drawing largely on readings recommended by Genlis, the book continues through to her marriage, her children’s early and adolescent education, and ends with the benefits that the children gained in adulthood from their education. This book is not limited to a biography, as each section on the daily business of education is interspersed with a discussion and comparison of contemporary education authors and other writers, the values they espoused, which ones Margaret followed and why. It also draws on valuable surviving Chinnery documents which trace the Chinnery children’s education, Margaret’s correspondence with Genlis and a comprehensive catalogue of the Chinnery library. The book offers a unique opportunity to follow a real family from cradle to grave, and provides an intriguing illustration, at an individual level, of a female-crafted education embedded in Enlightenment values. This book will be of great interest to postgraduate students and scholars researching the history and philosophy of education as well as women in the Enlightenment. Denise Yim is an Honorary Associate in the Department of French and Francophone Studies, School of Languages and Cultures, at the University of Sydney, Australia. Her research is focused on the eighteenthcentury English Chinnery family, especially their relationship with the violinist G.B. Viotti and with the education author Madame de Genlis.

Routledge Research in Early Modern History

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A Genlis Education and Enlightenment Values Mrs Chinnery (1766–1840) and her Children Denise Yim

First published 2022 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2022 Denise Yim The right of Denise Yim to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Yim, Denise, 1947- author. Title: A Genlis education and Enlightenment values : Mrs Chinnery (1766–1840) and her children / Denise Yim. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2022. | Series: Routledge research in early modern history | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2022001708 (print) | LCCN 2022001709 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032171807 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032171791 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003252146 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Chinnery, Margaret, 1764–1840. | Genlis, Stéphanie Félicité, comtesse de, 1746–1830. | Education— England—History—18th century. | Education—England— History—19th century. | Enlightenment—England. Classification: LCC LA631.5 .Y56 2022 (print) | LCC LA631.5 (ebook) | DDC 370.94209/033—dc23/eng/20220211 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022001708 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022001709 ISBN: 978-1-032-17180-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-17179-1 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-25214-6 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146 Typeset in Sabon by codeMantra

Miniature portrait of Margaret Chinnery by Giovanni Trossarelli. Pencil and watercolours on ivory, 1793. (Property of and photograph by the author)

Contents

List of figures Acknowledgements List of abbreviations Introduction

ix xi xiii 1

1

Family and education

15

2

Early married life

28

3

The education journal

49

4

Paris during the Peace

67

5

The Golden Age

79

6

Oxford

104

7

Caroline grown up

121

8

Glory achieved

145

9

George’s career

160

Conclusion

175

Bibliography Index

187 201

Figures

Miniature portrait of Margaret Chinnery, by Giovanni Trossarelli, 1793 0.1 Title page of a twelve-page Christie sale catalogue, 2 June 1812: ‘A Catalogue of the Library of Books of Antiquities, Prints and Polite Literature of W. Chinnery, Esq’ 2.1 An unfinished sketch of the Abbé Gaultier’s Grammar Chart in his own hand, c.1794 2.2 Engraving of Gillwell House after Humphry Repton, 1807

v 8 37 39

Acknowledgements

I have many to thank over the long time it has taken for this book to see the light of day. They include librarians and archivists from Australia, England, France and the USA, many of whom are now retired. Among them are Helen Yoxall of the (then) Powerhouse Museum Archives, Judith Curthoys of Christ Church Library, Oxford, Frances Barulich of the New York Public Library, afterwards curator of music at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York, and Scout Association officials and archivists at Gilwell House, Chingford. I am more recently indebted to librarians at the University of Sydney and at the National Library of Australia, and to friends Warwick Lister in Florence, who read through my chapters as they were written, and Gay Reeves in Australia, who offered encouragement along the way. I am especially grateful to a UK-based book dealer, James Paul, who recently acquired a small collection of manuscript music (mostly Caroline Chinnery’s) and some letters, which he has very kindly allowed me to quote from in the present book. He has since acquired a larger collection of Chinnery letters, including much education material, a little of which he has generously shared with me. Since this book was finished the British Library has purchased the music collection and the University of Sydney Library (Rare Books) the larger collection. My husband has supported me throughout long years of research and made me a present of the beautiful Trossarelli miniature of Margaret Chinnery which appears as the frontispiece.

Abbreviations

CC Ch.Ch. Fisher GRC MC MC’s Journal, Book 1 MC’s Journal, Book 2 Osborn PHM SVEC WBC WBC’s Drummonds’ Account

WRS

Caroline Chinnery Oxford, Christ Church College Library, Correspondence of Margaret Chinnery and George Robert Chinnery University of Sydney Library, Rare Books and Special Collections, Chinnery Family Papers George Robert Chinnery Margaret Chinnery Margaret Chinnery’s education journal (1796–1801), Private collection, James Paul Margaret Chinnery’s education journal (1801–1808), PHM 94/143/1–3 Yale University, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Chinnery poetry, Osborn fd.11 Sydney, Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences (formerly Powerhouse Museum), Chinnery Family Papers Studies in Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century William Bassett Chinnery Edinburgh, NatWest Group Archive (formerly Royal Bank of Scotland), Drummonds’ Customer Account Ledger, William Bassett Chinnery William Robert Spencer

The Chinnery letters in Christ Church Library are arranged chronologically and will be cited by date only except in cases of ambiguity, when the full shelfmark will be given. Translations are my own unless otherwise stated. Quotations are normally given in English only, except for passages of poetry. These are in the original with a prose translation alongside.

Introduction

Much has been written over the years about Madame de Genlis’s education system as expounded in her novel Adèle et Théodore. From the earliest contemporary French criticism dating from when the novel was first published,1 to the British reception of its translation a year later, down to present-day scholarly opinion, the debate has always focused on whether the plan set out in the novel is practical. That Adèle et Théodore was extremely popular and was a bestseller there is no doubt. But were her readers truly interested in putting her system into practice, or were they simply carried along by an intriguing piece of fiction? How practical is Genlis’s system in reality? These questions have never been answered satisfactorily because there has never been sufficient evidence brought forward to decide the matter one way or the other. There has never been a thoroughgoing study, in all its daily minutiae, of a real mother using the plan on her own family. Gillian Dow’s 2016 edition of Adèle et Théodore in its English translation, Adelaide and Theodore, is a timely reminder of the extraordinary influence of this novel on late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century thinking on education in Britain. Adèle et Théodore was published in England the same year that it was in France (1782) and set the pattern of Genlis’s success there. Several possible reasons for its enormous popularity in Britain have been proffered by one twentieth-century scholar, 2 but I would argue that they all miss the most important and straightforward point, which is that Genlis had an undeniable talent with words. Adèle et Théodore was written in a style that, in the opinion of the English Review, was ‘almost uniformly elegant’.3 The didactic parts of the novel were infused with charm and liveliness (The Monthly Review described the whole plan as unfolding ‘in a lively fictitious narrative’4), and even the cynical Mercure de France admitted that Genlis had a good understanding of the way a child thinks, was able to make the most trivial things interesting and could write a charmingly simple dialogue.5 In short, Adèle et Théodore was imbued with Genlis’s characteristic dynamism, a quality that, according to Genlis, was missing from Rousseau’s education novel Émile.6 The subject matter and the sentimentalism of Adèle et Théodore may not be to the taste of today’s readers, but it is impossible,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-1

2 Introduction even today, to deny Genlis’s ability to cast a spellbinding narrative that captures and holds her readers’ attention. Her French publisher of the early 1800s, François Maradan, understood this and capitalised on Genlis’s talent when he employed her to write short tales for his newly launched Nouvelle Bibliothèque des romans. The series thrived in the two years that Genlis was writing for it and went bankrupt when she stopped in 1803.7 In France Adèle et Théodore was enormously popular from the time it was first published. Genlis herself boasted, with justification, that the first edition sold out in less than a week.8 In England it was serialised (in translation) in two women’s magazines,9 and the novel inspired no fewer than five British female authors.10 Simon Burrows, in his Enlightenment Bestsellers, places Genlis at no. 9 in a list of all-time bestselling primary authors, and her novel Adèle et Théodore at no. 17 in a list that ‘better represents the contours of the wider book trade’.11 However, as already noted, the popularity of the novel was one thing, but the number of mothers willing to give the education plan it contained a try, quite another. Anyone who tried to implement the method Rousseau expounded in his education novel Émile, soon found it to be impracticable.12 Moreover, there was great debate, both in England and in France, about the usefulness of Genlis’s education plan. Generally speaking, the British were more positive than the French. British education writers Anna Barbauld, Clara Reeve and Catharine Macaulay admired it, and the English Review opined that it was ‘the best system of education ever published in France’, but that it was not realistic, and that, after reading the work, the would-be educator felt as though he had ‘been wandering in fairyland’.13 On the other hand, one of the severest French critics, Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve, did allow that the plan had a ‘practical sense of reality’,14 but most in France, including Sainte-Beuve, were in agreement with the writer and politician Dominique Joseph Garat, who opined that ‘one would search in vain in this work for any new light on education such as Locke and Rousseau provided, [which was] the result of a profound analysis of all the faculties of the human mind’.15 Another common French complaint was that Genlis’s plan was elitist, and applicable only to ‘la noblesse opulente’,16 that is, those in possession of a considerable fortune, a country estate, a houseful of servants, a string of private tutors and the wherewithal to travel to other countries.17 The English Review writer agreed, citing the need for ‘wealth and rank’ to put the system into practice. To which the lone voice of the English educationist Clara Reeve countered that it was never designed ‘to be strictly and literally followed’, and that everybody, including those in the middling and lower classes, could extract from it something useful to suit their circumstances.18 Given these confusingly conflicting opinions, it is surprising that any mother would wish to subject her children to the experiment. Yet as far as is known, two did, both admittedly from wealthy families, and both personal friends of Genlis. One was a French woman, the comtesse Pauline de Brady, who owned a country estate where Genlis often

Introduction  3 stayed,19 and the second was Margaret Chinnery, an enlightened English gentlewoman of strong moral and educational convictions. Mrs Chinnery was perhaps the only woman in England to have conscientiously tested the practicality of Genlis’s system, and certainly the only one to have left behind a detailed account of it. This book aims to show, first, how Margaret Chinnery used the novel to finish her own education when she was an adolescent, thereby flying in the face of English contemporary opinion, which held that the book was written for parents, not children, 20 and then went on to use its precepts to educate her own children. This was achieved with such stunning success that she gained a reputation in London society as an education authority. Indeed, if events had not intervened, she would herself have authored a book on education. 21 Genlis’s influence on the Chinnery children’s education has been discussed in my 2001 article, 22 but there was insufficient space to discuss the rationale behind Margaret Chinnery’s method of education. In the present book my aim is to explore the underlying questions of why Mrs Chinnery adopted Genlis’s ideas, how she implemented them and what the outcome of her endeavours were. The end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries was a time of enormous didactic output in the field of education. Treatises, conduct books, moralising epistolary novels and letters of advice from fathers to sons and mothers to daughters abounded. Margaret Chinnery was deeply engaged in the currents of her time, and threw herself into the new discourses on education as a Christian, as a reader, as a thinker and as a mother. The majority of the treatises on education were founded on a strong religious foundation and all cultivated the pursuit of virtue. Adèle et Théodore was an important contributor to these contemporary discourses. Just one example of how deeply embedded the idea of virtue was in the eighteenth-century psyche can be seen in Genlis’s words to Margaret in dedicating her historical novel Madame de Maintenon (1806) to her, and in suggesting that her daughter Caroline might gain some advantage from it. She writes that the daughter already has before her eyes ‘a model of virtue’ and that ‘the best lesson of all will always be the example of such a mother’.23 Genlis was criticised by contemporaries for the dislocation between the morality of her lived life and the morality lessons taught in her books, but Margaret did not allow this to alter her opinion of the author’s works. It could be argued that Margaret became ‘such a mother’ because two early events shaped the course of her future life. The first was the death of her own mother when she was nine, leading to her being sent away to school. The second was when Genlis’s Adèle et Théodore fell into her hands at the susceptible age of sixteen. The effect that this novel had on the rest of Margaret’s life cannot be overstated. In a letter to Genlis in 1802 she goes so far as to claim that it was her favourite book, 24 and although such fulsome praise of the author to the author’s face might be treated with scepticism, there is ample evidence to show that Margaret was speaking honestly, at

4 Introduction least as far as children’s education was concerned. The reading of Adèle et Théodore had a threefold effect on her. First, it strengthened her already strong religious convictions; second, it heightened her awareness of her female condition, along with the responsibilities this entailed;25 and third, it made her acutely sensible of her own ignorance. Like Genlis herself, the death of a parent early in life deprived her of a complete education, which deficiency both Genlis and Margaret made up with their own determined exertions: both became autodidacts. Margaret Chinnery might have been an enthusiastic adolescent admirer of Genlis’s Adèle et Théodore, but she did not accept its precepts uncritically, and once she was married (1790) she avidly devoured all the educational texts, conduct books and essays she could lay her hands on, making up her own mind about which ones she would use. For Kant, making up one’s own mind was the very definition of ‘enlightenment’, and indeed Enlightenment ideas shine through every word Margaret wrote and form the backdrop of this book, in which for the most part, I have allowed her to speak for herself. Enlightenment is here understood both in the sense of the French Enlightenment, and also as defined by twenty-first-century scholars such as John Robertson, Stephen Bygrave and, most recently, Ritchie Robertson, who has repositioned the debate around the theme of human happiness. 26 Margaret’s values, which tended towards an idea of social harmony that transcended national borders, certainly reflect this view. For her, the way to achieve happiness, both personal and collective, was through religion and education. It is not a coincidence, therefore, that the salient themes of the Enlightenment that recur in Margaret’s writings are reason, reverence, happiness and hope, four of the hallmarks of the Enlightenment nominated by Susan Neiman, a scholar cited by Ritchie Robertson.27 These four themes were at the heart of Margaret’s belief that the Christian god was a rational and humane being who held dear man’s happiness on this earth. Happiness was considered by Margaret, as it was by Joseph Addison 28 and most other eighteenth-century writers, to go hand-in-glove with virtue, which in turn was the keystone of eighteenth-century education philosophies. In fact, Enlightenment ideas were intermeshed with educational ones in all the serious contemporary studies on education. Even the author of a 1763 manual on the art of letter-writing stated that his aim, besides rendering the fair sex mistress of an elegant style, was to teach her the practice of every moral and social duty and to ‘make her happy, by making her wise and virtuous’.29 The respected German educationist Joachim Campe acknowledged the beneficent effect of education on human happiness when he wrote in 1789 that ‘the improvement of mankind, as far as it can be effected by education, has been more attended to in the present age than it ever was in any preceding one’, and that if these endeavours had had varying degrees of success, they have at least excited the attention and directed the minds of men towards an object, the accomplishment of which, as it is more or less

Introduction  5 perfect, has ever had a proportionable effect upon the happiness of families, and consequently upon the state of society in general.30 In Sarah Knott and Barbara Taylor’s ambitious and wide-ranging work Women, Gender and Enlightenment, women are shown to have been engaged in the Enlightenment phenomenon as authors, as readers, as educators, as patriots and as participants in religious debate, 31 but only in a private capacity. Margaret accepted uncritically this restriction on female participation and set about exerting influence in the private, or domestic sphere, as recommended by eighteenth-century education authors of both gender. It has been estimated that between 1762 and 1800 there were around 200 educational treatises published in English.32 Margaret read not only contemporary writers on education, but went right back through the early eighteenth and seventeenth centuries to the Ancients. She set herself the task of sifting through all these, including those published in French, to find the ones which best suited her purpose, which was to educate her children herself, not in a desultory fashion, as some well-intentioned aristocratic mothers such as the Countess of Oxford did, but systematically and with unwavering dedication. The Countess was lauded by the artist-diarist and Chinnery acquaintance Joseph Farington for showing ‘the greatest attention to the education of her children’, instructing them from 10.00am to 1.00pm.33 This would not have done at all for Margaret Chinnery, who, like the education author Thomas Gisborne, had her children rise at 6.00am to begin a full day of study.34 Yet even Gisborne’s daily schedule may not have been as rigorous as Margaret’s, whose daughter devoted three to four hours a day to music, as against Gisborne’s daughter’s one. 35 In order to devise such an efficient (and effective) study regimen Margaret read widely and deeply in order to be able to draw on the best philosophies of education for the benefit of her children. She was what Hannah More would have called a reader with a well-regulated mind, pursuing every kind of study which would lead her ‘to think, to compare, to combine, to methodise’, thereby conferring on herself ‘such a power of discrimination that her judgement shall learn to reject what is dazzling if it be not solid’.36 In other words, Margaret read broadly but discriminated wisely. Indeed, one of the pillars of Margaret’s education philosophy was judgement. She prided herself on the possession of this attribute and thought that it was one of the most important to be cultivated in children. Her reading did not exclude, in spite of their atheism, some of the French Enlightenment writers, whom she judged important for their world view on the human condition, and on how virtue was linked to happiness. Two in particular promoted this view. They were Bernard de Fontenelle and Paul-Henri Thiry (baron) d’Holbach. Margaret owned the complete works of Bernard de Fontenelle in French and the notorious trademark work of Holbach, Système de la nature, ou des loix du monde physique et du monde moral (1770), which in its day created such a scandal that it had to be published under a

6 Introduction pseudonym and not in the author’s lifetime. It was condemned by the parliament of Paris and publicly burned. That the Christian Margaret should have owned a book of such ‘very bold’37 (anticlerical) ideas, shows that she was not swayed by public opinion in her assessment of the book’s worth. Margaret Chinnery would have described herself as ‘liberal’ in the polite sense, and her ownership of the above work certainly accords with that description in the broader sense, too. Her life was lived in the highest echelon of British and continental society (thereby validating the views of those critics who described Genlis’s plan of education as elitist), even though she herself had no noble lineage, a fact of which she was painfully aware. She was a lover of the arts, and surrounded herself with musicians, poets, painters, novelists and dilettanti. When Madame de Staël arrived in England in 1813 she asked to meet her and liked her ‘very much’. 38 But Margaret would never have thought of herself as a feminist, even had such a term then existed, believing that the wife ‘is positively nothing by herself in the estimation of the world. She is, and very properly so, entirely enveloped in the fate of her husband’.39 In spite of her progressive thinking in matters pertaining to the mind, Margaret adhered strongly to polite social conventions, which included beliefs such as: the wife is co-joined to her husband, a woman should be ‘feminine’, that is, soft and gentle, and polite intercourse included gallantry, which was a fit and proper means of maintaining a harmonious society. She would have concurred with the view of the French philosophe the comte de Buffon, who wrote, ‘it is only among nations civilized to the point of politeness that women have obtained that social equality which is yet so natural and so necessary to make society pleasant’.40 That sort of social equality would have been firmly rejected by the radical women’s rights advocate Mary Wollstonecraft (and as far as I can ascertain, a copy of the Vindication of the Rights of Women never passed through Margaret’s hands), but for Margaret, as for Buffon, the most important consideration was not full social or political equality for women, but social harmony, which called for harmonious gender relations. Margaret was not alone in her uncritical acceptance of the status quo for women in the public sphere. The outspoken Madame de Staël, even while challenging the patriarchal status quo in society, believed that ‘It is right to exclude women from political and civil business, nothing is more contrary to their natural vocation than anything that would put them in the position of rivalry with men’.41 But as far as education was concerned, Margaret was strongly in favour of equality for both sexes (albeit with caveats), as proposed by Genlis and by the education philosopher Elizabeth Hamilton, who wrote, ‘I can see no good reason why, in early life, their tasks and instructions should not be the same’.42 The British author Catharine Macaulay, another educator who became an autodidact through the loss of a parent, was of the same opinion.43 The education philosophy that Margaret ultimately adopted was, like Genlis’s and like most other education writers of the time, based on Christian, Lockean principles. Joanna Wharton has remarked that ‘it

Introduction  7 would be hard to overestimate the extent to which Lockean discourse was passed down through the interwoven domains of religion and education’,44 and Margaret’s approach to education certainly confirms that remark. Wharton’s Material Enlightenment makes clear that although the women who were the focus of her study (Anna Laetitia Barbauld, Hannah More, Maria Edgeworth and Elizabeth Hamilton) were united in their ideas on education, there was, as Barbauld wrote to Edgeworth, ‘no bond of union among literary women’ by dint of their womanhood, and that all had ‘different sentiments and different connections’ which ‘separate them much more than the joint interest of their sex would unite them’.45 This may have been a veiled reference to Barbauld’s extreme dissenting beliefs, which derived from the philosophy of Richard Price and Joseph Priestley.46 Margaret studied the books of Barbauld, More, Edgeworth and Hamilton, as well as those of Henrietta Maria Bowdler and Jane West. She read French education authors too, Rousseau, Madame d’Épinay, the marquise de Lambert, Madame Le Prince de Beaumont, among others. These predominantly female influences contributed to Margaret’s pursuing what Jane Rendall calls an ‘ideal of educated female agency’,47 but only within the domestic sphere. Of them all Margaret most admired Hamilton, whom she met at a society dinner hosted by her friend the poet and translator William Sotheby.48 Margaret’s cogent arguments for pursuing the sort of education that she did persuaded all the men in her domestic circle to lend her their full support, from her husband William, her soulmate Viotti and her daughter’s Latin tutor and close friend William Spencer, to her son’s resident tutor Herr Trumpf, who was a graduate of that august centre of German Enlightenment thought, Göttingen University. Margaret’s unique matriarchal role in her own family highlights the fact that she was different from the other women in her social circle, and that she wanted to be recognised for her own beliefs and values, which only reinforces the above view of Anna Barbauld that while women might share some commonalities, they could not be lumped together merely by dint of their sex. Margaret’s education praxis, as distinct from the theoretical ideas that she absorbed from her readings, was firmly grounded in Genlis’s ‘plan d’éducation’, usually designated thus because, as Sainte Beuve and Garat had pointed out, Genlis did not possess a philosophy of education proper. The second aim of this book is therefore to explain Margaret’s education philosophy, and to touch on some of the authors she read to arrive at it.

Sources Chinnery/Viotti collections and Christie’s sale catalogue of the Chinnery library The most important sources for this book are the Chinnery/Viotti collections scattered across the world, in particular, the ones held in Australia.

8 Introduction

Figure 0.1 Title page of a twelve-page Christie sale catalogue, 2 June 1812: ‘A Catalogue of the Library of Books of Antiquities, Prints and Polite Literature of W. Chinnery, Esq’. The library included works in quarto, in folio, printed music and prints. (National Archives, Kew, TS 11/362)

Introduction  9 The Chinnery collection in the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences, Sydney, contains Margaret Chinnery’s education journal , Book 2 (1801–08), and the University of Sydney’s Rare Book Library holds her correspondence with Genlis (1802–25). Fourteen bound volumes of Chinnery letters in Christ Church Library, Oxford – a surprisingly neglected resource – have also been mined, as well as a small collection of Chinnery verse in Yale University’s Beineke Rare Book Library.49 In addition to the above manuscript sources there is an important printed document, which the unfortunate set of circumstances that convulsed Margaret’s life in 1812 has unexpectedly thrown up for those interested in reading and education. It is a twelve-page Christie sale catalogue, dated 2 June 1812: ‘A Catalogue of the Library of Books of Antiquities, Prints and Polite Literature of W. Chinnery, Esq’ (see Figure 0.1). Consisting of 150 lots, most with multiple items, it lists almost every book in the Chinnery library at the time, giving a good indication of the most popular education books of that time. As is the wont of auctioneers selling a library of this extent, the descriptions are the briefest possible to allow for the work to be identified. Most are so abbreviated that we can assume they were very well known indeed. For example ‘Miss James’s Selections’ might baffle a reader of today, but at that time everyone knew that they were taken from Genlis’s Annals of Virtue, and that ‘Graham’s Letters’ were Catharine Macaulay Graham’s (as she called herself) Letters on Education. The Catalogue sometimes gives clues to a particular edition, but in most cases it is impossible to know which edition Margaret owned. If a title of a French book is given in English I have assumed that Margaret read it in English, if in French I have assumed she read it in French. The buyers and prices they paid are listed alongside each lot number. These prices are no indication of the book’s real value, however, for, as George Chinnery remarked of a later sale of Chinnery books, they often fetched only one fifth of their original value.50 Yet it is easy to see which are the valuable ones, for these are accorded a fuller description (e.g. ‘Duncombe’s Horace, 4 v. blue morocco, gilt leaves’) and often an individual lot number (No. 56 ‘Voyage de la Harpe, half bound, morocco backs and corners, and marbled leaves, 27 vols’). Apart from some that Margaret brought to the marriage, these were books that were by and large purchased between 1790 (the year of her marriage) and 1812 (the date of the forced sale), that is, books that Margaret asked her husband to buy for herself and for her children. As the Catalogue itself tells us, Margaret subscribed to the Monthly Review, the Quarterly Review and the Edinburgh Review, showing that she, like most readers, did not ‘care to take in a book, any more than a servant, without a recommendation’.51 Although William Chinnery is named as the owner of the library, he was certainly not the person who selected the books. For a start, he was far too busy as a chief clerk at the Treasury, and second, he entrusted the education of his children entirely to the care of his wife. The years that the Catalogue covers roughly correspond to the most fertile period of the eighteenth century in regard to the production of books

10 Introduction and treatises on education. At first glance it is surprising to find only five Genlis works in it, three English translations: Sacred Dramas (1786), A Selection from the Annals of Virtue (1794), A New Method of Instruction for Children from Five to Ten Years Old (1800), and two French, the unidentified Cours de la Mythologie52 and La Philosophie chrétienne (1802).53 This is not because Margaret did not own any more than this, but rather because those that she did own, many presented to her by Genlis herself, were carefully concealed, as was her education journal, from the bailiff, when the forced sale of the library occurred. (William Chinnery was removed from his Treasury post in 1812 for embezzlement of public funds.) What was not saved, much to Margaret’s chagrin, were some parcels of children’s ‘school books’, which appear as lot 5 and lot 13 in the Catalogue. Her cry of despair is recorded in a short diary she kept of the experience: Who is there that loves their home, their own quiet room, their books, their own chair and writing table, all the comforts and enjoyments comprised in the idea of home, that can doubt of the wretchedness of those days and hours, when I saw myself deprived of every thing that was mine […] things that had belonged to me from my birth, which had been my father’s, the books in which I had taught my children, their exercises, their drawing and writing books […] all sold by public auction!54 There is ample evidence in Margaret’s letters that she shared what David Allan calls ‘the Georgian conviction’ that moral improvement and social cohesion were attainable through ‘the careful and concerted practice of reading’.55 Allan rightly laments the fact that evidence of what people read and what they thought of the books they did read is so scarce: ‘We simply do not know and cannot find out what most readers of the past thought about a particular book’.56 Richard De Ritter echoes this sentiment, explaining in his Imagining Women Readers, 1789–1820 that, while he draws on some letters and diaries, the readers discussed in his book are, for the most part, ‘textual constructions’.57 Through the Chinnery Family Papers we are fortunate to be able to peer into the daily lives, thoughts, readings, opinions and education of a real family in exactly the period he is writing of. The Catalogue is the icing on the cake, for, taken in conjunction with Margaret’s education journal, it details almost the complete reading programme for her children’s education, as well as her own. Jacqueline Pearson, in her Women’s Reading in Britain (1750–1835) writes of the polyvalence of contemporary opinion on the reading woman.58 On the one hand reading was thought to be ‘seditious’, on the other ‘rational’, at once a harmful and a beneficent influence on women. The enlightened Margaret did not heed public opinion. She made up her own mind on any subject she tackled. For her, reading was a necessary and mind-broadening employment of time, and there are many instances in her

Introduction  11 letters of her giving an opinion on the books she read. It is probably safe to say that Margaret read every book in the Catalogue except those in a language she did not understand. This is because we know that Margaret, in accordance with the advice of all educationists, from the Ancients to the Moderns, including Quintilian, Madame de Genlis, Elizabeth Hamilton, Catharine Macaulay, Maria Edgeworth and others, attended to her own education before embarking on that of her children, and also continued reading throughout their education and afterwards. Of course, the Catalogue is not an exhaustive list of the books the Chinnerys owned, for many books mentioned in Margaret’s journal and letters do not appear in the Catalogue and vice versa. In addition, the auctioneer has taken short cuts in his listings. For example, to many lots he adds vaguely ‘and thirty one others, school and children’s books, etc.’, ‘and 7 others, Poetry etc.’, ‘and 13 more German’. But if we take the Catalogue, the education journal and the letters together we end up with a useful case study of one English family’s education from infancy to adulthood and an understanding of the mind of the woman who directed it.

Methodology I have chosen the biography genre as the vehicle on which to hang Margaret Chinnery’s educational ideas and values. This is because the source material is so voluminous and so detailed (enabling the reader to be so fully immersed in the Chinnerys’ lives that he believes himself present), that, in order to do it justice, it is best sorted sequentially into its context. Biography offers the twin benefits of detail and continuity. By accompanying Margaret as she proceeds through life we see her reaction to events as they happen, whether they be her delight at her children’s successes or the frustrations she suffered along the way, her first meeting with Genlis or with Madame de Staël, or her comments on books or other contemporary writings as she read them. Some of the significance of the moment would be lost if such incidents were cited out of context, simply as examples to illustrate a point within a broader study. What I am proposing is to view the subject through a much more sharply-focused lens. The virtue of this case study approach, I believe, is that it gives the reader a more accurate view of Margaret’s strengths and weaknesses and a better appreciation of her mind. It is not my intention to consider the broader engagement of women in Enlightenment thought, but to engage fully with one woman, and, hopefully, to show how forward-thinking she was. Chapter 1 describes Margaret’s family background and the way she undertakes her own education. Chapter 2 considers the books Margaret read in her early marriage, especially against the backdrop of the French Revolution, and describes her three children’s education during infancy. In Chapter 3 there is a long quote from Margaret’s education journal, including a full day’s timetable for when the twins were nine years old, showing

12

Introduction

clearly Genlis’s influence. Margaret’s yearly progress reports detail books read, plays performed and other educational activities. Chapter 4 describes the Chinnerys’ visit to Paris in 1802, educational excursions, intercourse with Genlis and the celebration of Margaret’s birthday as a fête domestique. The children’s educational activities from the age of twelve to sixteen is continued in Chapter 5, with particular reference to performances of plays written by the children and dealing with problems of adolescence. Instructive visits to two private collections conducted by the French artist Madame Vigée Le Brun and to the British Museum are described. Chapter 6 deals with George’s first two years at Christ Church College, Oxford, Margaret’s advice to him based on Locke, Montaigne and Quintilian, and her criticism of Oxford’s traditions. Chapter 7 describes Caroline’s educational activities at Gillwell between the ages of seventeen and twenty, with special emphasis on William Spencer’s role as her Latin and prosody tutor, her music compositions and the risks associated with female erudition. Margaret’s views on the fine arts are laid out, as well as her views on Staël’s books. Evening readings at Gillwell are described. Caroline’s pianistic skills are recognised by the prince regent at his Pavilion in Brighton. Chapter 8 returns to Oxford, describing Margaret’s preoccupation with glory and her view of herself as a Roman matron. George wins the Newdigate Prize for English Verse, giving rise to society’s recognition of Margaret as an education authority. The aim of Chapter 9 is to show the real results of Margaret’s education plan. The Chinnery scandal complicates the picture, but at the same time highlights George’s achievements in the face of this handicap. The valuable work of present-day scholars of eighteenth-century education such as Michèle Cohen, M.O. Grenby, Sophia Woodley, Karen O’Brien and others has been of great help in guiding me to a fuller understanding of educational practices in the Chinnery home, as have Jane Rendall’s and Joanna Wharton’s writings on the science of the mind. Ritchie Robertson’s thought-provoking The Enlightenment has been my indispensable reference book.

Notes 1 Le Mercure de France, April 1782, pp. 55–72. 2 Wahba (pp. 223–25) offers three. The first cites the British fear of Rousseau’s libertinism, the second the novelty of Genlis’s education techniques and the third, the fact that the British were under a misapprehension about Genlis’s morals. 3 English Review, July 1783, p. 106. 4 Monthly Review, May 1784, p. 339. 5 Le Mercure de France, April 1782, p. 57. 6 Ibid., p. 68. 7 This may not have been the only reason for the bankruptcy, but it certainly contributed to it. Genlis’s books continued to enrich Maradan into the early 1800s (see Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, pp. 83, 84n56).

Introduction 13 8 Genlis, Mémoires, III, 147. 9 Universal Magazine, June 1782–December 1786, in twenty-seven parts, and the Lady’s Magazine, May 1785–April 1789, in forty-nine parts. 10 Ruwe, p. 6. 11 Burrows, pp. 68, 73–74. 12 Wharton (p. 76) cites the case of Richard Lovell Edgeworth, whose attempt to use Rousseau’s method on his son was spectacularly unsuccessful. 13 English Review, July 1783, pp. 106–07. 14 Sainte-Beuve, III, 30. 15 Cited in Grimm and Diderot, III, 312 (note). 16 Le Mercure de France, April 1782, p. 59. 17 Contemporary critic writing in L’Année littéraire, cited in Cook, p. 372. 18 Reeve, p. 45. 19 Broglie, p. 334. 20 Reeve, p. 45; English Review, July 1783, p. 109. 21 Her intention is stated in MC to GRC, 17 February 1809, Ch.Ch. 22 Yim, ‘Madame de Genlis’s Adèle et Théodore’. 23 Genlis, ‘Épitre dedicatoire à Madame Chinnery’, in Madame de Maintenon. 24 MC to Genlis (copy), [September 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 66. 25 As Sophia Woodley put it in ‘“Oh Miserable and Most Ruinous Measure”’, women were viewed as ‘guardians of public morality’ (p. 37), a role which Margaret Chinnery happily adopted. 26 John Robertson gives a succinct account of the term ‘Enlightenment’ in The Enlightenment: A Very Short Introduction (2015). Stephen Bygrave discusses the debates on education against a backdrop of the Enlightenment in Uses of Education (2009). Ritchie Roberston’s definitive The Enlightenment: The Pursuit of Happiness, 1680–1790 (2020) is a wide-ranging re-examination of all aspects of the Enlightenment. 27 Susan Neiman, Moral Clarity: A Guide for Grown-up Idealists (2009), p. 131, cited in R. Robertson, The Enlightenment, p. xv. 28 ‘All True Happiness Must Spring from Virtue’, Spectator, 22 March 1711. 29 Hoey, p. 1. 30 Campe, An Abridgement, p. iii. 31 Knott and Taylor, eds, p. xviii. 32 Porter, p. 343. 33 Cited in Grenby, ‘Children’s Literature’, p. 464. 34 Letter from Henry Thornton to his daughter, cited in Stott, p. 52. 35 Yim, ‘A British Child’s Music Education’, p. 33. 36 More, II, 3. 37 In French ‘très-hardis’. Holbach, Avis de l’éditeur (unpaginated). 38 Reported in MC to WBC, 25 August 1813, PHM 94/143/1–17/14. 39 MC to WBC, 7–9 March 1815, PHM 94/143/1–17/20. These words were written after the scandal involving her husband. Nevertheless, they reflect the current thinking and show that she agreed with it. 40 Cited and translated by R. Robertson, The Enlightenment, p. 297. 41 Cited and translated by Goodden, p. 4. 42 Hamilton, Elementary Principles, I, 258. 43 Macaulay (p. 50) recommends that both sexes be united early ‘in the soft bonds of friendship’, and ‘be brought up together […] their sports and studies […] the same’. 44 Wharton, p. 10. 45 Letter from Anna Barbauld to Maria Edgeworth, 22 July 1804, cited in Wharton, p. 20. 46 See Price and Priestley.

14

Introduction

47 Rendall, ‘“Elementary Principles of Education”’, p. 616. 48 William Sotheby was lord of the manor of Sewardstone, in which the Chinnery estate Gillwell was situated. Thus, Sotheby and his family were neighbours as well as close friends of the Chinnerys. 49 For a history of these collections see Yim, Viotti and the Chinnerys, pp. 4–6. For a complete description of the Sydney holdings see Yim, ‘Guide to the Papers of the Chinnery Family’ in the Powerhouse Museum Archives, and ‘Guide to the Papers of the Chinnery Family in the Fisher Library’ in Rare Books and Special Collections, the University of Sydney Library. 50 A set of history books which had cost £30 were sold for £6 (GRC to MC, 6 August 1824, PHM 94/143/1–12/33). 51 Ralph Griffiths’s advertisement for the first issue (1749) of his Monthly Review, cited in Forster, p. 172. 52 This work appears to be the one which Genlis describes in Adèle et Théodore (II, 456) as a work on mythology, which she calls ‘une histoire poétique’, and which she has rendered more amusing and seemly for children. It is on Adèle’s reading list to be read at the age of thirteen (III, 525). It is also mentioned in the Le Mercure de France’s 1782 review of Adèle et Théodore (p. 68). Yet the only surviving Genlis book of mythology is her Arabesques mythologiques (1810), which is mainly pictorial. 53 This is an anthology of extracts from several of Genlis’s works, arranged to form a work of morality in the spirit that pervades all her work (Plagnol-Diéval, pp. 40–41). 54 MC’s Diary, 7 September 1813, PHM 94/143/1–10. 55 Allan, p. 17. 56 Ibid. 57 Ritter, pp. 1–2. 58 Pearson, p. 1.

1

Family and education

Margaret Chinnery was born Margaret Tresilian, the eldest of three daughters of Leonard Tresilian and his wife Margaret. Her mother was the eldest daughter of Henry Holland senior of Fulham, a builder who was involved in building speculation in Mayfair and St James’s in the mid-eighteenth century. Her uncle, Henry Holland junior, was a property developer, who laid out the West End of London. Her father was a wealthy silk mercer in Covent Garden. He owned two contiguous houses in Chandos Street, one for his business and the other for his family, and also the freehold property behind for his coachhouse. He is listed in various London directories as a mercer of 9 Chandos Street, Covent Garden up to 1776 and at 10 Chandos Street from 1778 to 1785. By eighteenth-century definition, both her father and grandfather would have been considered gentlemen. Margaret was born on 16 October 1766 in her maternal grandparents’ home in Church Row, Fulham,1 where her parents went in late summer to escape the city heat. Four weeks later, on 13 November, she was christened at the parish church, All Saints, where her name is inscribed on the church baptism register under the heading ‘Baptisms on the Fulham Side’.2 Her childhood, however, was spent in the parish of St Paul, Covent Garden. The family house stood in the widest part of Chandos Street and was a fairly typical middle-class city house of the day, with three storeys, a cellar kitchen and garret accommodation front and back for servants. The original house had burned down in 1772 when Margaret was six, and the description of the new house comes from the Chinnery family’s legal papers. 3 Margaret’s mother was from a god-fearing family and would have performed her pre-ordained wifely duties, as spelled out in one of the rare early eighteenth-century conduct books that was available to her, John Newbery’s The Accomplish’d Housewife (1745). Her allegiances would have been, in descending order of importance, towards God, the king, her husband and her children. Her most important duty, she was told, was to ensure that the hours of prayer were as regular as those of meals. Being the daughter of a father who had been a church warden, Mrs Tresilian would have followed these strictures. It seems likely, too, that a significant number of hours in Mrs Tresilian’s day were devoted to music. There had

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-2

16  Family and education been a fine harpsichord in the home where Leonard Tresilian grew up, a grand villa at Parson’s Green.4 When Leonard sold the family home on old Mrs Tresilian’s death, he sold the harpsichord too, presumably because his wife already owned one. It was no doubt Margaret’s mother who fostered in her the deep love of music, which she shared with Genlis, and which defined her adult life. The parish of St Paul might have had squalid living conditions for many, but the middle-class gentry enjoyed an over-endowment of ‘professors of the liberal and polite arts and sciences’.5 It was probably from one of these that young Margaret, perhaps at the age of six or seven, took her first music lessons. It is even possible that, in unknowing prescience, Mrs Tresilian attended the 1773 Soho concert of the promising young Piedmontese musician Giovanni Battista Viotti, who, after a stellar career in Paris, where Genlis knew and admired him, would later travel to Britain and form a lifelong bond with Margaret Chinnery. Margaret’s love of music as an adult was sincere rather than merely fashionable and was a subject that she studied and understood better than most women of her time. Although as an adult Margaret believed that her education had been woefully inadequate, her early upbringing had probably been supervised by her mother, until she died, with loving care. Her mother would have cultivated in her religious feelings, and might have employed a French governess, chosen from among the many Huguenot refugees who had come to London early in the century. This would explain Margaret’s effortless fluency as an adult. And if the governess followed the Accomplish’d Housewife’s advice, she would have been taught manners, been read to and had her natural curiosity exploited. The book, citing the Roman orator and educator Quintilian, advised making these activities a game rather than a lesson, recommending for little children that books be considered ‘as agreeable Amusements to them, as their Play-things’.6 This was an idea that Genlis advocated, and Locke before her, and one that Margaret would use on her own children. The young Margaret would also have been taught writing by a specialised master, or penman, who visited his pupils at home, and also attended at boarding schools. He would have given her passages to copy that contained ‘some rule of life, or some maxim that inculcates virtue’.7 Margaret’s future father-in-law and his father before him were writing masters and the latter published a beautiful example of such a work, entitled The Compendious Emblematist (1738), a splendid calligraphic pattern book with a moralising aphorism on every right-hand page.8 When Margaret’s future father-in-law, William Chinnery junior, published his own book, Writing and Drawing made Easy, he wrote in the Preface that it was ‘humbly proposed as an assistant to school-masters’, and that most of the ‘moral copies’ were first written by his father, and would save masters the trouble of writing their own for their young pupils.9 The Chinnerys (father and son) advertised themselves in the Universal Director of 1763 as private teachers of writing and accompts (book-keeping).10 Their work was so good,

Family and education  17 according to one of their colleagues, that it could be mistaken for engraving.11 Margaret Chinnery’s hand was indeed neat and regular, and her letters well-formed, so there is no doubt that she would have learned from such a master, whether a Chinnery or not. Margaret was nine years old when her mother died in January 1776.12 The death of her mother had a profound impact on the rest of her life, and was responsible for the bitter words she wrote to her mentor Madame de Genlis in Paris in 1802, ‘I was without a mother, without guidance, ignorant, and badly educated’.13 Less than fourteen months after his wife’s death Leonard Tresilian married the thirty-five-year-old spinster Elizabeth Dovee Fawson from Saffron Hill, Holborn.14 Miss Fawson was a wealthy woman, who brought to the marriage assets in property, annuities, and South Sea and Bank of England stock.15 She was apparently also well educated, with an interest in the sciences, for she is listed as a subscriber to the Compendious System of Astronomy (1797) by Mrs Margaret Bryan, who ran a girls’ school in Blackheath, where she taught the atypical subjects astronomy and natural philosophy. Tresilian’s marriage was of brief duration, was probably unhappy, and ended in 1783.16 Margaret’s relationship with her stepmother appears to have been distant and she had nothing to do with her after the separation. It was probably after the death of her own mother that Margaret was sent to school, a fact mentioned by her in a letter to her son.17 According to a contemporary upper-class writer, Lady Mary Hamilton, who published a five-volume work, Letters from the Duchess de Crui, on the character and duties of the female sex, being sent away to school at that time was a normal state of affairs for both boys and girls, and the curriculum was more or less fixed: At the age of six or seven years […] the boys in general are sent to the grammar-school, and the girls to boarding schools, in which case, the latter are instructed in dancing, music, drawing, the French and Italian languages, and other accomplishments, according to the humour and ability of the parents, or genius and inclination of the children.18 It is clear from the above statement that girls were not given a challenging curriculum. Indeed, the standard of education provided at girls’ schools was in general poor. There was no established system, and each school ran its own programme, with a varying number of girls of different ages, in premises that may or may not have been hygienic. Schools promised to give daughters all the accomplishments (i.e. music, dancing and drawing), knowing that this was what most parents wanted. Parents were usually attracted by schools away from the smog of London, in rural locations such as Kensington, Chelsea, Islington or Bloomsbury, many of which were French run or at least employed French masters, for a knowledge of the French language was de rigueur for a lady of good breeding. The author of a 1760 book on educating girls, The Polite Lady, claimed that French

18  Family and education had become ‘so much the language of the fashionable world, that they who cannot read and write, and even speak it, on occasion, must make a very awkward figure in polite company, and be frequently put to the blush’.19 It is not known which school Margaret attended, but presumably it was somewhere in Middlesex, which had space and clean air. Whichever school was chosen, the core subjects taught would have been much the same, with accompts, geography and chronology included at the better schools. Although books on female education published around this time criticised the practice of teaching women only polite accomplishments, they persisted in warning parents against giving their daughters too much learning. This was a fine line to tread, but it was one that was so ingrained in eighteenth-century thinking, both male and female, that only a very few schools wishing to attract pupils from well-to-do families dared to encourage girls to do more than skim the surface of the subjects they studied. This was something that Margaret Chinnery, when she herself became a mother, strongly took issue with. It accounts for her belief that she was ignorant and ill-educated. An 1809 letter to her son at Oxford contains the only explicit reference to her school education. In advising him on how to study logic (first grasp the general principles, then move on to the specifics), she cites the example of young children who can draw eyes and noses and mouths perfectly, but have no idea how to put them together so as to form a face. She remembers that when she first learned geography at school the master followed a plan that was precisely the reverse, and made me learn the names of all the towns rivers and mountains of each country before I had even seen either a globe or a map of the world!20 As a result, she did not make any progress in geography for years afterwards. These drawbacks were viewed by Margaret as serious defects in her education. The words written to her mentor in 1802, are those of a woman searingly conscious of her shortcomings, especially before such a towering education authority as Madame de Genlis. Margaret’s school years probably came to an end in 1782, just before she turned seventeen. It was then that she read Genlis’s education novel Adèle et Théodore. Twenty years later she would tell Genlis of the enjoyment she derived from the book and of its impact on her life: I was sixteen when I was lent the book. I devoured it, and for my whole life I have given thanks to God for this sign of his favour. Since that time I have been listening to [the author’s] voice with extreme veneration, and I have been made delightfully aware of the boundless gratitude I owe her. 21 As mentioned above, the reading of this education novel drove home Margaret’s sense of her own inadequacy. In David Hume’s essay ‘Of the Rise

Family and education  19 and Progress of the Arts and Sciences’, which Margaret may have read before her marriage, is the observation that while man’s love of gain is a universal passion, ‘curiosity, or the love of knowledge, has a very limited influence, and requires youth, leisure, education, genius, and example, to make it govern any person’. 22 Margaret’s situation in 1782 ticked all Hume’s boxes: she was sixteen, and since she was at the end of her school life her time was her own. She was naturally curious and had just read and been inspired by Genlis’s novel. She had been given an education of sorts at school, but she decided to use her leisure to educate herself properly. In the quest to educate herself, Margaret seems to have foraged in her uncle’s library. We know that Henry Holland owned a library because the 1780 plans of his new house ‘Sloane Place’, a twenty-one-acre property at the southern end of the octagonal Hans Place, part of his Hans Town development, specify that along the south side of the house ran a drawing room, dining room, lobby, library and music room, all interconnecting. 23 And we know that Margaret paid many visits to her uncle’s home in London in the period between leaving her own home in Chandos Street, Covent Garden (1782) and moving into one of her uncle’s new houses in Sloane Street (1786). 24 Margaret’s father also owned a country property in Essex called Gillwell (see Figure 2.2), 25 which is where the family lived during the intervening four years. This quiet haven on the edge of Epping Forest was where Margaret embarked on her ambitious four-year reading programme. I would hazard to suggest that she selected her books from a list at the end of Genlis’s Adèle et Théodore: ‘Course of reading followed by Adèle between the ages of six and twenty-two’.26 In this list Genlis specified exactly which books were to be read and at what age. She even included a list of books read by Adèle during the two years immediately after her marriage, when she did not receive callers, but devoted her time to reading. Madame de Genlis was a contemporary of the French philosophes, but had unshakeable Christian beliefs, which threw her into pitched pen battles with Rousseau and Voltaire. She proclaimed herself to be anti-philosophe and them to be her enemies, but nevertheless recommended their works if she considered them morally useful. Thus, Voltaire’s histories and dramatic tragedies and Rousseau’s education novel Émile appeared on Adèle’s reading list. In reality, Genlis’s Adèle et Théodore borrowed freely from Rousseau and indeed, Marie-Emmanuelle Plagnol-Diéval goes so far as to say that she ‘plagiarised’ him. 27 In turn, Genlis accused Rousseau of borrowing from Seneca, Montaigne, Charron, Fénelon and Locke.28 But it is equally true that Locke, too, borrowed from the Ancients. His ideas on education had much in common with those of the Roman orator Quintilian, who preceded his Institutes of Eloquence with a complete course of education for the would-be young orator. Was Adèle et Théodore suitable reading for a sixteen-year old? Most contemporary English education writers agreed that Genlis’s education novel was a book more suited to parents than to their offspring, and did not

20  Family and education recommend Adèle et Théodore to young ladies, 29 but the English Review made an exception of ‘those of a larger growth’ (more mature in mind) ‘[who] may reap instruction and information’.30 However, in France, where girls commonly married at sixteen, it was considered suitable reading for a young lady. The Mercure de France in May 1782 published a poem in praise of the novel which was sent to a supposedly beautiful, well brought-up sixteen-year-old girl, whom the poet exhorted to eschew flattery by using reason, following the example of Genlis’s character Adèle: ‘Quand tout, autour de vous, répète: qu’elle est belle! | A l’école de la raison | Vous voudrez encore suivre Adèle, | Et prendre pour vous la leçon | Dont vous nous offrez le modèle’ (When everyone around you is admiring your beauty, you will still follow Adèle to the school of reason, and adopt its lesson, of which you yourself are an example).31 At sixteen, Margaret, too, seems to have been mature enough to profit from the novel. The advice given to the young people in Adèle et Théodore to use their time fruitfully and never to be idle for a single moment32 certainly made an impression on her, for it was a principle which followed her through life. Since Margaret’s life at this point is undocumented, we can only guess at how she allowed herself to be guided by her mentor. She might have divided up the hours of the day, setting aside time for both study and physical exercise. She might have practised singing and playing the piano. She might have sought out the quietest corners of the Gillwell gardens to improve her verse-writing, for the rules of versification were considered by Genlis as ‘a necessary part of any good education’33 and were taught to Adèle at the age of sixteen.34 But most importantly, she would have been eager to make good the gaps in her reading. On Genlis’s reading list were of course all her own works written especially for children, as well as books by other French juvenile authors such as Madame de La Fite and Madame d’Épinay, which Margaret noted for future reference. There were French and English histories. There were also French and English essayists, poets, playwrights and novelists, including Fénelon’s bestseller Les Aventures de Télémaque (1699) and his Œuvres spirituelles (1718), as well as Locke, Shakespeare, Milton, Richardson and Addison. There were the classics in translation. There were the Italian authors Metastasio, Tasso, Goldoni, Ariosto, Petrarch and the Spanish Cervantes. There were many books of religion and of natural philosophy. Margaret was drawn to the authors who used satire to point out human foibles, such as Æsop, La Fontaine, Boileau and Montesquieu. She especially enjoyed Addison’s Spectator. All but a handful of Genlis’s selections were also listed on the Christie sale catalogue of the Chinnery library. Adèle (or the real Adélaïde) was twenty when she completed her reading programme (allowing for the two years she continued to read after her marriage), exactly the same age as Margaret in 1786. Thus, Margaret was of an age to be permitted (in Genlis’s opinion) to tackle the more sophisticated and complex authors such as Locke, Pope, Shakespeare, Milton, Fénelon, Montesquieu, Tasso and even Rousseau’s Émile, which Genlis reserved for

Family and education  21 Adèle after her marriage. Also on Genlis’s list for Adèle to read after her marriage was the popular Pierre Charron, author of De la Sagesse. Pour servir de suite aux Essais de Montaigne (1601), which was translated into English as On Wisdom. To serve as a Sequel to Montaigne’s Essays. Charron was a contemporary of Montaigne, and preached self-knowledge as the path to wisdom, and wisdom as the precursor to virtue: ‘One must be perfectly wise in order to be virtuous’, he wrote, adding that since this was not innate in us, we must acquire it through study,35 an idea that Locke echoed in his Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1689) nearly ninety years later.36 Charron no doubt appealed to Margaret for his advocacy of judgement and virtue. Margaret appears to have undertaken her reading programme in a systematic way, making sure she covered all genres, and reading the appropriate books at the appropriate age. For example, Adèle was fourteen when she was asked to read Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s Letters, and sixteen when she was given Madame de Sévigné’s, so it seems likely that Margaret began her course of reading with these titles, for, like conversation and reading aloud, the art of letter-writing was highly prized in the eighteenth century, and, as is clear from her own letters, was one that Margaret herself cultivated. Margaret may also have been taught letter-writing at school, for a book on the subject was published in 1763, inspiring the mistress of a girls’ boarding school in Hampstead to introduce it to her own school, writing that it was so agreeably amusing that her girls had ‘thrown aside their novels and romances’.37 Another French author recommended to Adèle at the age fifteen was the Jesuit priest Dominique Bouhours, an exact contemporary of Locke. His 1687 work Manière de bien penser dans les ouvrages d’esprit (The Art of Criticism, or The Method of Making a Right Judgement upon Subjects of Wit and Learning) taught logic through a series of simple dialogues. Like Montaigne and Montesquieu, he wrote on the wisdom of thinking for oneself, a principle which guided Margaret’s education policy throughout her life. She would have been able to find most of Genlis’s recommendations in her uncle’s library in English (or French, for Henry Holland was familiar with French), and those that she could not find there she might have borrowed, bought (there were at least three French book sellers in London by then38) or simply kept in mind for purchase after her marriage. Margaret read Genlis’s recommendations in the languages she knew (French and Italian), using English translations for those she did not (Greek, Latin and German). Her preferred translator of the classics was the devout Christian writer William Guthrie (1708–1770), who translated Cicero’s Orations and Offices, and Quintilian’s Institutes of Eloquence. These are books that Margaret would, in all likelihood, have found in her uncle’s library, and which she reprised during her son’s Oxford education. Guthrie had high praise for Quintilian, who, he believed, displayed good sense, the same as good taste, he said. Since sense, taste and judgement

22  Family and education were catch-cries running right through Margaret’s journals and letters, it is evident that Quintilian’s words made a deep impact on her. Indeed, it could be argued that Quintilian’s observations on music, poetry and the fine arts fed the all-consuming eighteenth-century preoccupation with taste. In his editorial introduction to Quintilian’s Institutes of Eloquence Guthrie wrote: There is a ground-work of good sense that runs through his whole work, and which, he shews, is applicable to every art, in the same manner, as to eloquence. He proves this to be the source of whatever we call good taste, and that it is, in fact, the organ by which nature operates. […] His observations on music, poetry, natural prospects [garden vistas] and all kinds of beauty, discover equal justice and genius. His great aim is to prove […] that every deviation from nature is a deviation from good sense, and that without good sense that thing which we call taste, is but a glare of affectation, pride and singularity that decoys a weak mind into the pursuit of gross absurdities.39 Margaret gives proof of her agreement with these words in many of her letters. What the eighteenth century usually meant by ‘nature’ was not the natural world, but rather that which was inherent in being human, which, if warped in any way would result in a descent into what Guthrie calls ‘gross absurdities’. What Quintilian is saying, in effect, is that the source of good taste is in our very nature, and should be available to us all, although the early nineteenth-century educationist Elizabeth Hamilton adds the qualification that although ‘the emotions of taste are peculiar to the human race […]’, ‘true taste is more difficult of acquirement’.40 There are many of Quintilian’s precepts to be found in Margaret’s letters: ‘train but the tender age, you form the man’,41 a child can never be too young to learn the difference between right and wrong, a fair hand is an asset, memory is improved by practice, to be literate you must be acquainted with the muses and graces, the classical languages should not be studied to the exclusion of all others, to name but a few. On her first reading as an adolescent, Margaret would have been especially encouraged by Quintilian’s prefatory words that study would improve almost anyone, provided he or she had a spark of genius (intelligence), and that the powers of human understanding were active and quick, and therefore lent themselves to learning many things at once. Bearing in mind that she, like Genlis, was intending to educate her future children herself, she would have been particularly sensitive to Quintilian’s emphasis on the fact that the child’s educator must be a person of wide learning, having a knowledge of poetry, music, astronomy and natural philosophy.42 In order to prepare herself for her entry into the world, and for marriage, Margaret turned to two French female writers for advice. The first was Madame Le Prince de Beaumont, a French governess who had worked

Family and education  23 in Britain in an aristocratic family. Her 1764 book, Instructions pour les jeunes dames qui entrent dans le monde (Instructions for young ladies making their debut in society) was not on Genlis’s list, but it was in the Chinnery library.43 It took the form of a dialogue between a governess and her pupils, and was an undeviatingly religious work, in which the governess expatiated on the Christian duties that a well-bred young lady must observe, especially when in society, and exposed to moral dangers such as those presented by plays, balls and other public assemblies. Less stern, but equally virtuous, was the marquise de Lambert’s Avis d’une mère à sa fille (Advice from a Mother to her Daughter), which was on Genlis’s list. Margaret must have been struck by the marquise’s blunt opening sentence, ‘Right down the ages, the education of girls has been neglected’.44 Lambert believed girls had never been given any sound learning, nor taught virtue. Echoing Charron, she wrote that those who filled their hearts with wisdom were closer to virtue than those who did not. The eminently rational marquise must have struck a chord with Margaret with her advice that religion was the only domain in which one must obey the authorities, and that in all other subjects one should accept only the arguments of reason and evidence, as Margaret said exactly the same thing in an 1806 letter to her cousin.45 Lambert believed that feminine virtue consisted in living at home and taking charge only of oneself and one’s family, and that the way to foster religious feelings was by reading and reflecting. Thinking, she said, enlarged the mind and made women less likely to succumb to popular opinion, and ‘solid’ readings fortified their intellect and embellished their mind. But like Le Prince de Beaumont, she believed that activities which set the imagination working were to be eschewed. Plays, opera, music and other forms of theatre belonged to the realm of the imagination, and therefore exposed young ladies to immorality: better to read a book, a ‘purer’ pastime.46 Although aiming to be a virtuous, wise and respected wife and mother, and although a lover of reading, Margaret refused to conform to the views of the above authors regarding works of the imagination. She did not wish to forgo the pleasures of her favourite pastimes music, poetry and opera, which, according to both Le Prince de Beaumont and Lambert, threatened a young lady’s morals. She wanted to be able to navigate the dangers of being in society, while retaining her modesty and being correct in all the social niceties. For this reason, she kept returning to Genlis, for more than any other female writer of this time advising mothers on how to educate their daughters, Genlis offered a plan of education that was Christian, rational and embraced the arts. Young ladies could possess all the polite accomplishments and attend opera, but they must remain modest, and not be allowed to become coquettish. Genlis’s aim was to make Adèle ‘a woman of strong reason, who possessed all the essential virtues, a fine mind, a smattering of the sciences, all the polite accomplishments, a knowledge of several languages, but was neither pedantic nor pretentious’47 She did not

24  Family and education wish to turn Adèle into a savante, which was an abhorred phenomenon for the French ever since Molière’s seventeenth-century parody Les Femmes Savantes cast pejorative aspersions on women with pretensions to learning. She wished merely to ‘preserve her from a multitude of prejudices that ignorance gives rise to’. At the age of seventeen, Margaret aspired to be what Adèle was at the same age: sincere, unaffected and able to think rationally and speak sensibly.48 Proof that any gaps in her early education had been made up through her own determined exertions was that the twenty-four-year-old woman who married William Chinnery in 1790 was a perfectly well-bred, wellread young lady of good sense, who was fluent in French and Italian, and was also highly polished in the traditional female accomplishments. Indeed, her natural musical talent had been nurtured to a superior degree. Fiercely driven in her aspirations for her own children, her thirst for knowledge as an adult is evident, and as an adolescent, books might have been a refuge from an unhappy home life. During her adolescent years at Gillwell Margaret became aware of the benefits that such a property would confer on her own future family, and it was probably then that she begged her father to settle the property on her when she married. Gillwell was not so far from London that she could not go to town to attend operas and concerts, although on some of those occasions she may have stayed with her uncle and aunt Holland at 17 Hertford Street, Mayfair, and taken further singing and piano lessons from masters in town. Henry Holland, who was by 1783 architect to the Prince of Wales, always rose at four in the morning, she later told her son, and a very good practice it was, for ‘without a habit of early rising you never will be able to perform any great things’. She herself had early acquired the same habit, she told him.49 Margaret was twenty when the family moved to Sloane Street. Within a year, with introductions to the best Whig assemblies facilitated by her father or her uncle, she had met the ambitious young William Bassett Chinnery, a clerk at the British Treasury. The pair had a common love of God, music and the arts and William called their conversations ‘the daily food of my heart’.50 He wrote her affectionate letters into which he sometimes slipped some verse. He also presented to her a newly published book of sermons, Paul Maty’s Sermons Preached at the British Ambassador’s Chapel at Paris in the Years 1774, 1775, and 1776. Maty had been chaplain at the British embassy in Paris and enjoyed a reputation as an orator. This churchman was also well known in the literary world, being under librarian at the British Museum and sometime secretary to the Royal Society, and he used rational arguments in his preaching and writing. Maty’s religious beliefs were intransigent, and he ended up separating from the orthodox Anglican church, citing doctrinal disagreements.51 The Sermons were sold by subscription after his death to raise funds to help support his family. On the list of over 1000 subscribers at the front of the book was the name ‘Wm

Family and education  25 Chinnery Esq’. The gift was one that Margaret would have appreciated. Indeed, Maty’s may have been one of the books that helped determine her later beliefs, for, judging from what little evidence there is in the Chinnery correspondence, it would seem that she agreed with his views on doctrinal matters, and that she was a dissenter, perhaps even a Socinian, who was against Trinitarian orthodoxy, and in favour of the notion of the materiality of the soul, as posited by Locke in his Essay Concerning Human Understanding.52 For the majority of Anglicans, to be a Socinian was quite shocking, almost heretical, 53 and it showed that Margaret was a woman of firm convictions, unafraid to stand among the minority in church doctrine. Two other authors who may have helped bring her to this thinking were Bernard de Fontenelle and the baron d’Holbach, whose ideas on materialism had been influenced by Locke.54 Unsurprisingly, neither featured on Genlis’s list of readings at the end of Adèle et Théodore. However, both appeared on the sale catalogue of the Chinnery library of books.55 Included in Fontenelle’s Œuvres was a short essay entitled Du Bonheur (On Happiness). Happiness was a state which he believed could be achieved simply by being content in oneself (‘Le plus grand secret pour le bonheur c’est d’être bien avec soi’).56 As one twentieth-century scholar wrote, ‘If this statement leaves a multitude of things unsaid, it has the virtue of leaving the path open to the seeker’.57 Margaret took advantage of this open path by choosing to equate happiness with the Christian virtues. As for Holbach, his Système de la nature aimed to lead man to true happiness, by ‘bringing [him] back to nature, making reason dear to him, and making him love virtue’.58 Here again is the frequently-occurring Enlightenment word ‘nature’, which refers to that which is natural to or innate in man. Herein lies the key to understanding Margaret’s interest in the work, for Holbach’s ethics embraced all the Christian virtues, while at the same time appealing to reason. For Holbach, reason was the means by which man could achieve true happiness in this life, rather than chasing the illusion of attaining it in the next. Margaret, while not prepared to countenance an alternative belief system to Christianity, was at least happy to take from Holbach’s system those parts that she found congenial, such as the pursuit of happiness and virtue on this earth, the need for man to know his own nature and the benefits to be gained by relying on his own lived experience and thoughts, rather than on imaginary systems. She would have carefully read his chapter on education, which he opens by saying that it is by living in the real world that man can be of greatest use to society. Through education, he says, man can cure the world’s ills by cultivating certain tendencies and quashing others, and by contracting habits that are beneficial to both the individual and to society.59 Holbach’s belief that man does not need heaven to reward his good deeds, or hell to punish his bad ones,60 can be seen in the words of a poem Margaret wrote on the eve of her marriage. Entitled A Prayer, it shows that even at this stage Margaret seemed to entertain a more optimistic notion of

26

Family and education

original sin than that which formed part of the traditional Anglican creed. Like Catharine Macaulay, she did not believe that God would bar heaven to all but the elect, nor that He was ‘partial in the distribution of reward and punishment’,61 writing in her third stanza, that if one sinned ‘Perfect Repentance will ensure | Asylum under Heav’ns bless’d Roof’.62

Notes 1 Stroud, p. 18. 2 A reference to the River Thames, which bisected the parish (All Saints, Fulham, Register of baptisms). 3 WBC, Legal papers, PHM 94/143/1–13/3. 4 The villa and some of its contents are described in the sale notice in the Daily Advertiser, 18 April and 14 May 1772. 5 Title page of Mortimer’s Universal Director. 6 Newbery, Accomplish’d Housewife, p. 2. 7 Ibid., p. 7. 8 An illustration of one is given in Conner, p. 16. 9 The British Library assumes that the book was written by William Chinnery senior (1708–1791) and suggests a publishing date of ‘[1750?]’. But as the Preface makes clear, it was in fact written by his son William Chinnery junior (1740–1803), sometime after his father had stopped practising, and is therefore more likely to have been published after 1770. 10 Accompts was a subject for older girls, to equip them for their future role as mistress of the house. 11 Mortimer, p. 11. 12 LMA, St Paul, Covent Garden, Register of deaths. 13 MC to Genlis (copy), [September 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 66. 14 LMA, St Andrew in the Bard, Holborn, Register of baptisms. 15 Scout Association, Gilwell Archive, [Marriage] Settlement. 16 Indenture of 18 December 1783. The deed of separation is mentioned twice in MC’s Legal papers (Fisher 2000–15/1 and PHM 94/143/1–11/24). 17 MC to GRC, 9 May 1809, Ch.Ch. 18 M. Hamilton, Letters from the Duchess de Crui, II, 32. This evidence contradicts what scholars of today seem to have agreed on, namely that ‘as a rule’ girls were educated at home before 1780 (Woodley, p. 21). Also contradicting this belief is Cockburn’s History of the County of Middlesex (I, 253), which describes a rapid growth of girls’ boarding schools in Middlesex in this period. 19 Allen, p. 27. 20 MC to GRC, 9 May 1809, Ch.Ch. 21 MC to Genlis (copy), [September 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 66. 22 Hume, I, 114. 23 Stroud, pp. 46–49. 24 WBC, Legal papers, PHM 94/143/1–13/3. 25 Today Gilwell [sic] Park is owned by the Scout Association. Margaret spelled Gillwell with four ‘l’s, and that is how it will be spelled in this book. 26 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 519. 27 Plagnol-Diéval, p. 17. 28 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 187. 29 See Wahba, pp. 233–34.

Family and education 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

27

English Review, July 1783, p. 109. Le Mercure de France, May 1782, p. 148. Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 44. Genlis, Mémoires, VI, 143. Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 300. Charron, I, second page of the dedicatory letter (unpaginated). ‘Even if moral principles are not written on their hearts, men may come to a knowledge of them in the same way as any other knowledge’ (Locke, Concerning Human Understanding, I, 40). Letter published in a twenty-page advertisement for the works of James Hoey junior: ‘Just Published by James Hoey junior. Article I. The Ladies Complete Letter Writer’, pp. 1–2. John Peter Lyton, John Boosey, M. de Lorme, and probably Joseph de Boffe (Burrows, p. 53). Quintilian, I, xxiv–xxv. Hamilton, Elementary Principles, II, 15, 340. Quintilian, I, 27. Ibid., p. 30. Lot 44 on the Christie sale catalogue. Lambert, p. 51. Ibid., p. 76; MC to Mrs Bridget Craufurd, 6 February 1806, transcribed in Yim, ‘A British Child’s Music Education’, p. 44. Lambert, pp. 67, 74, 78, 88. Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 62. Ibid., III, 267–68, 404–05. MC to GRC, 17 March 1810, Ch.Ch. WBC to MC, 16 May 1812, PHM 94/143/1–17/12. Monthly Review, March 1789, p. 224. For political reasons Locke was guarded in his public comments about this notion, but his private writings indicate that this was his true belief. See Milton’s entry ‘John Locke’ in the ODNB. Hannah More was shocked by Barbauld’s Socinianism: ‘This clever woman was alas! a Socinian!!’ Cited in Wharton, p. 122n35. See Yolton. Listed as ‘Œuvres de Fontenelle, 8v’ (lot 52) and ‘Monde Moral, 2v’ (lot 36). Cited in Marsak, p. 8. Marsak, p. 8. Holbach, I, iii, vii. Ibid., p. 240. Ibid., p. 241. Macaulay, p. iv. MC, Poems and verses, PHM 94/143/1–1/1.

2

Early married life

Once married, William and Margaret moved into the fashionable neighbourhood of Cavendish Square, 5 Mortimer Street, three blocks north of Oxford Street. The house was near the corner of Wells Street, which gave them access to a three-stall stable in the mews behind. The keeping of a carriage, which necessitated either owning or hiring horses, was expensive: only the very wealthy could afford to own, or indeed to hire one,1 but William was only too happy to indulge his new wife. The young couple attended the opera and subscription concerts and were considered wellto-do. As a fashionable newlywed, Margaret would have been expected to participate in the customary round of visits, but, remembering Genlis’s strictures, she resented sacrificing her reading time to the demands of society. There is every indication that, like Genlis’s character Adèle, 2 Margaret spent the first couple of years of her marriage consolidating her reading. Twelve years after Margaret’s marriage the English educationist Elizabeth Hamilton would lend her support to Genlis’s belief that a married woman should continue reading: ‘Why’, she asked, ‘should a woman of twenty, or of any age, think that because she is married, all improvement is impossible?’3 If a woman wished to be respected by her children, she should pursue the accession of knowledge. All the better if she has a sympathetic husband, for then ‘her success is infallible, her reward is certain’.4 William Chinnery was a sympathetic husband, and Margaret must therefore have felt confident of success.

Reading Two of the books on the Christie sale catalogue which Margaret might have read at this time were by Isaac Watts D.D., an early eighteenth-century philosopher who wrote about the human mind. 5 Samuel Johnson believed Watts to be Locke’s equal in reasoning powers, and his endorsement of Watts’s Improvement of the Mind (the sequel of his Logick) went so far as to say that ‘Whoever has the case of instructing others, may be charged with deficience in his duty if this book is not recommended’.6 Having read all the old books on the theoretical principles of education, beginning with

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-3

Early married life  29 the Ancients (Quintilian, Marcus Aurelius, Cicero), and going on to the seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century authors (Locke, Watts, Bacon, Montaigne, Fénelon, Bouhours, Charron), Margaret was now eager to keep abreast of contemporary publications on the same subject, and, aided by an obliging husband, who was ready to purchase all the titles she required, she also embraced the plethora of conduct books that appeared at the end of the eighteenth century. These would give her practical advice in her educational endeavours. Among the titles in the Chinnery library that appeared the same year as Margaret’s marriage and that nicely complemented Genlis’s constant warnings about the folly of wasting time, was the Honourable Eugenia Stanhope’s The Deportment of Married Life Laid Down in a Series of Letters (1790). In order to instruct, this conduct book used the increasingly popular conceit of letters from a wiser and older female family member to a younger naïve one, in this case a newlywed niece. On the subject of visiting, the author warns that a newlywed will be ‘visited by multitudes’, whose only aim is to sticky-beak and find fault.7 Her advice to the young wife is to be respectful, say little, decide who her true friends are, and, so as to avoid the visiting treadmill, ‘be very long between the [visiting] Card, and the return of it’.8 There is evidence that Margaret heeded Stanhope’s sensible advice on this and on other time-wasting social conventions. The morning was for taking care of business, and so morning visits were to be discouraged, Stanhope advised. Margaret, who was conscientious in her home duties, found morning visits particularly tiresome, especially when she had young children. Five years into her marriage she complained to William of two time-wasting visitors who ‘came purposely because it rained so incessantly’, thereby intruding on her time, which could be more profitably spent on her children or on reading.9 Eugenia Stanhope’s was not a typical conduct book of her time: she offered advice on how women, using the most subtle and agreeable of means, could control their husbands and at the same time achieve a happy marriage. Margaret seems to have heeded this advice, for she and William saw eye to eye on everything; indeed he deferred to her in many matters, especially education and faith, once asking her for instruction on a particular point of revealed religion, and assuring her that he would think exactly as she told him to.10 Margaret soon gained the upper hand in the marriage without appearing to, and William took pleasure in giving her the best that money could buy. This was particularly true for the beautiful and expensive editions of books that he purchased for her. Another book which appeared the same year as Margaret’s marriage, and which had an influence on her education philosophy, was Catharine Macaulay’s Letters on Education with Observations on Religious and Metaphysical Subjects.11 One reason for Margaret’s being drawn to Macaulay was that many of her ideas on education accorded with Genlis’s, and indeed Macaulay pays tribute to Genlis several times in her book. Macaulay

30  Early married life opens her Preface with the words ‘Of all the arts of life, that of giving useful instruction to the human mind, and of rendering it the master of its affections, is the most important’.12 Macaulay acknowledged the contribution to education of the ‘modern metaphysicians’ Locke and Fénelon, who both threw new light onto the operations of the mind. At the same time, Macaulay’s stated inspiration for her book was ‘a full persuasion of the equity and goodness of God’.13 This enmeshing of educational ideas with metaphysical and religious ones struck a powerful chord with Margaret and led to her reading more widely on the subject and then to her adopting those principles in her own education practice. One of the more valuable stand-alone lots in the Christie sale catalogue was the complete works of Fontenelle in eight volumes, also published in 1790. Leonard Marsak’s long 1959 essay on Bernard de Fontenelle contains a list of all the editions of his works, leaving no doubt that the Chinnerys’ eight-volume edition of his Œuvres was the 1790–92 one, which Marsak describes as ‘without doubt the best edition of all’.14 Fontenelle was considered one of the fathers of French ‘modern philosophy’. Indeed, the famous French philosophe and encyclopédiste Jean-Baptiste le Rond d’Alembert thought that Fontenelle’s contribution to the spirit of the age was equal to Bacon’s, Descartes’s, Newton’s or Locke’s.15 Yet this was the same ‘modern philosophy’ that Genlis, Elizabeth Hamilton and the Reverend Maty so harshly derided. For her part, Margaret refused to be told what to think about anything, and, as Locke recommended, made use of her own thoughts in reading.16 Unfortunately, there is no record of what Margaret thought of Fontenelle. She would certainly have been attracted by his view that thinkers were ‘the personification of polite enlightened sociability’17 and she would also have liked his optimism. Fontenelle was preoccupied with human happiness, which was integral to the beliefs of the Socinian authors whose works Margaret read – Locke, Aikin, Barbauld, Joseph Priestley and Richard Price (all in the Christie sale catalogue).18 Fontenelle’s definition of happiness as a form of quiet contentment perfectly describes what Margaret felt during the fifteen years spent educating her children at Gillwell. In the 1790s the French Revolution, which London watched unfold with deepening horror, was becoming increasingly more violent. The steady stream of books dealing with religion became an avalanche under the perceived threat of French depravity and atheism. Many of them were in the Chinnery library. One was Bernadin de Saint-Pierre’s Studies of Nature, which maintained that the misery of any nation (especially France), was entirely due its bad education system, an idea echoed by a devout young woman of precocious wisdom, Miss Elizabeth Smith (of whom more in Chapter 7), who wrote that ‘one great cause of the republican spirit which prevails at present, appears to have been a false principle in education’.19 Saint-Pierre believed that women had a role to play in remedying the situation. However, neither Saint-Pierre nor any of the other educators believed

Early married life  31 that women should step outside their prescribed boundaries to do this. If every woman would ‘occupy herself in fulfilling the duties of her gentle destination, those of wife and mother’, Saint-Pierre wrote, then ‘the complete chain of her sex may strengthen all the other bonds of national felicity’. 20 The same idea was voiced by Hannah More in her Strictures on the Modern System of Female Education, in which she called on women to help save their country by exerting influence from within their home to raise the tone of public morals at a time when Britain’s very existence was imperiled by ‘the most tremendous confederacies against religion, and order, and governments, which the world ever saw’.21 Margaret, who believed in her pre-ordained destiny of wife and mother, had no desire to step outside her home to exert influence on behalf of Christianity, believing, like More, that to do so would be indecorous. She also believed, like Genlis, More and Macaulay, that women of the higher classes had a duty to set an example to the lower classes. Margaret read other Christian authors, such as Robert Jenkin and Thomas Gisborne, who both stressed the importance of setting children on the path of true religion ‘at a time when so many exertions are daily making to diminish and defeat its influence’. 22 In his Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex Gisborne wrote that the most important care of any teacher should be to ‘engage the understanding and affections of the pupil in favour of piety and virtue’. 23 His Familiar Survey of the Christian Religion reiterated the message of his first work, namely that it was the parent’s duty to sow the seed of religion and keep it alive throughout the child’s life. 24 The French Revolution spawned a new genre, the anti-Jacobin novel, which reinforced the message of the exponents of ‘true religion’. These, too, Margaret read for the philosophy of education that they espoused. Many of their authors, such as Elizabeth Hamilton and Jane West, were female, and many also believed that the dreadful state of female morals in France during the ancien régime was what led to the rise of Jacobinism, as illustrated by West’s Tale of the Times (1799). Margaret owned this, as well as West’s Letters Addressed to a Young Man (1801) and The Infidel Father (1802). She undoubtedly also owned Letters to a Young Lady (1806), even though it is not listed on the Catalogue. West’s depiction of virtuous domestic bliss with the woman in her proper place and fulfilling her proper Christian duties appealed to Margaret, who would increasingly come to view Gillwell, where she educated her children from the age of five, as an idyllic paradise and a place of innocence and purity compared with the outside world. Gillwell was where ‘the delightful harmony resulting from the perfect accord of duty and inclination were felt and enjoyed’. 25 Margaret could almost have been quoting the Scottish moral philosopher Dugald Stewart, who wrote in his Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind (1792) that it was the task of those undertaking the education of children to counter the challenge of scepticism (i.e. French atheism) ‘by establishing the natural alliance between our duty and our happiness’.26

32  Early married life It was Stewart’s Philosophy of the Human Mind that inspired the writings of Elizabeth Hamilton and Maria Edgeworth, especially Hamilton, who adopted the two principal components of Stewart’s ‘common sense’ education philosophy, namely, to cultivate children’s potential to the fullest, ‘in such a manner as to bring them to the greatest perfection of which they are susceptible’, 27 and to regulate their association of ideas formed in early life. Margaret embraced common sense philosophy, although she would have been wary of Edgeworth’s exclusion of any discussion of religion in her Practical Education. Hamilton and Edgeworth believed, like Genlis, that a child’s earliest impressions and associations were lasting. But whereas Genlis, who took these ideas from Locke, 28 articulated no formal education philosophy, Hamilton and Edgeworth believed that women wishing to undertake the education of their children should first study the philosophy of mind. Indeed, Hamilton wrote that any educational endeavour without some knowledge of it ‘must be labour lost’.29 Common sense philosophers argued that mothers played a crucial role in the future moral and intellectual strength of their children, because the association of ideas acquired in early childhood shaped both. Margaret also took note of Hannah More’s observation that a woman who had the best regulated mind also had the best regulated family.30 Having been conscientious in her reading and having thought deeply about what she read before undertaking the education of her children, Margaret certainly believed that hers was a well-regulated family (and it was). She took full responsibility for domestic harmony and saw herself as ‘the animating principle of the whole’.31 In the course of her reading Margaret would have noticed a common thread running through the conduct books and works of philosophy alike: a good education, based on a firm foundation of morality, will produce a wise man who will be useful to his country (or a wise woman who will be useful to her family), whereas a neglected education will produce a weakminded frivolous man or woman who will be of no use at all to society. As Joachim Campe wrote in the Preface to his New Robinson Crusoe, the happiness of families, and consequently that of society in general, rested on education.32 Virtue, wisdom and right thinking were catch-calls of the eighteenth century which reverberated off the writings of the Ancients. Margaret embraced these values and made up her mind that it would be down the path of Christian virtue, through a vigorous growth of enlightened thinking, that she would lead her children, starting in their earliest childhood.

Children The Chinnerys’ firstborns were twins, George Robert and Caroline, born 3 September 1791.33 George’s first godfather was Sir Robert Preston, a wealthy East India merchant, shipowner and London insurance broker. His second was William’s benefactor, the senior secretary of the Treasury

Early married life  33 George Rose, who had helped William to his post in the Treasury, but who even at the children’s christening was beginning to have doubts about his style of living. He expressed surprise that the infants were brought downstairs by ‘two or three women dressed like ladies’, and that ‘no Duchess’s children could be shewn in greater stile and magnificence’.34 At the time of William’s downfall Rose would claim that the only time he ever set foot in the Chinnerys’ house was to stand godfather to a child. 35 The Chinnerys’ third child was a boy, Walter Grenfell, born 23 April 1793.36 His godfather was the wealthy copper merchant Pascoe Grenfell of Taplow, Buckinghamshire. The first five years of the twins’ upbringing took place in Mortimer Street in London. The evidence for how Margaret conducted her children’s very early education can be gleaned partly from the scant family correspondence that exists during these years, but mostly from the books in the Chinnery library. Of all the books that Margaret read in order to shape her education philosophy, Locke was the most influential. Not wishing her education programme to be a stern litany of moral precepts, she aimed to implement Locke’s principle of associationism, which was so strongly endorsed by Genlis and Macaulay, and which advocated making learning pleasurable. Margaret provided educational games for her children and also encouraged constructive play in which she participated. When William Chinnery and his friend Pascoe Grenfell were visiting Bath in the summer of 1795 she invited Grenfell’s two sons George and Charles (aged six and five) to play one Saturday afternoon with her twins (aged four) and Walter (aged two). Delighted with the children’s frolicking, she wrote to William, ‘The five children together made as you may imagine a glorious riot, but you know I always partake in children’s amusements therefore I was as much pleased as any of them’.37 In games Margaret followed Genlis’s teaching: ‘It is so easy to make almost any game useful’.38 In the children’s infancy Margaret followed the advice of Macaulay, who was ‘entirely of Genlis’s opinion’, 39 in the matter of a mother suckling her own child: better to employ a nurse than to expose the infant to the dangers of milk overheated by late-night revelry, for a mother could not be expected to forgo her social activities. The Chinnerys did employ a nurse, and Margaret did not forgo her social activities. In the early 1790s Margaret and William were just beginning their rise to prominence in London’s fashionable world, and they led a busy social life, attending many of the popular concerts then on offer in London. But since these were the years for laying the foundation of the children’s education, Margaret spent most of her day with the children, giving them religious instruction. The author she relied on for advice and practical ideas was Genlis, whose education aims, reiterated throughout Adèle et Théodore, were tripartite: first, and most important, ‘former son cœur’ (shape their hearts), second, ‘cultiver l’esprit’ (cultivate their minds), and third ‘donner tous les talens agréables’ (give them all the polite accomplishments).40 Shaping the hearts of her young

34  Early married life pupils consisted in showing them the difference between right and wrong and teaching them virtue. ‘Their earliest lessons on morality must consist of examples, not rules’, Genlis asserted.41 Margaret did teach her children by example. The children observed their parents at prayer and were themselves made to repeat a simple morning and evening prayer, which Margaret wrote for them. When they were very young Margaret read them Bible stories written especially for children, making sure her voice and manner were appealing, in order to capture and keep their attention. Reading aloud was an art which she had no doubt practised and repractised in the gardens of Gillwell in her adolescent years. Genlis stressed the need for clarity of diction and an appealing tone to capture and hold her young pupils’ attention, and Margaret pursued this proposition with her usual diligence: she consulted John Rice’s Introduction to the Art of Reading with Energy and Propriety (1765).42 Rice believed, and it was belief that was widely held in the eighteenth century, that the art of reading intelligibly was as important a skill as speaking and writing. As Watts had already written, there was something ‘sprightly’, ‘delightful’ and ‘entertaining’ in the discourse of a good teacher. ‘The very turn of voice, the good pronunciation, and the polite and alluring manner […] will engage the attention, keep the soul fixed and convey the ideas of things in a more lively and forcible way’.43 By many accounts Margaret was an excellent reader and would entertain her family and their guests at Gillwell after dinner, reading Euripides, Shakespeare, Molière and Italian poetry.

Viotti At the same time that Margaret was concentrating her mind on the philosophical principles of education and on putting them into practice on her children, she and William were conspicuous participants in London’s fashionable assemblies, especially when they involved music. It was through musical connections that Margaret first met Giovanni Battista Viotti who would turn out to be, in more ways that William would be able to be, her partner and soulmate for life. Viotti was the Italian violinist-composer, who, twenty years earlier, had performed in London as the pupil of the great Pugnani. By now Viotti had displaced his teacher, and it was Viotti who was the great master, acknowledged as the ‘father of the violin’ for having created a new school of violin playing in Paris, known as the ‘Viotti’ school. Educated by a prince in Turin,44 Viotti had manners to match his talent, which gave him entrée to Marie Antoinette’s court. When the Revolution gained momentum, his connection with the queen forced him to emigrate, and he arrived in London in 1792, returning to the performing podium to earn a living. He was the featured soloist in Johann Peter Salomon’s Hanover Square concerts of 1793 and 1794, and musical director of the subsequent Opera concert series. Both were prestigious subscription series which featured many continental performers who had

Early married life  35 fled the Revolution. Margaret and William supported all Viotti’s concerts and became his patrons. In reality, they were far more than patrons, and it was not long before they admitted the violinist into their intimate family circle, where he was known as ‘Amico’. He in turn gave Margaret the name corresponding to his, ‘Amica’, or, in a telling admission of who really ran the Chinnery house, ‘la cara Padrona’. By 1799 Viotti had abandoned his musical career, and at William’s suggestion, had gone into a wine business with a Chinnery friend. He was by then a fully accepted family member, and the children grew up with him as a second father. Having a musician of the calibre of Viotti under her roof would in the future be of great benefit to Margaret’s education programme, especially her music programme.45 It also enabled her to host private musical concerts of the highest standard, which continued throughout the children’s childhood, and to which, when they were old enough, they were exhorted to listen with the greatest attention in order to foster their musical taste.46 Some of these concerts took place on a Sunday. Authors of moral handbooks on the duties of the female sex deplored the fashion of Sunday concerts, which, they agreed, had been imported from the continent. One was the Anglican minister Thomas Gisborne, who warned in his Duties of the Female Sex that ‘private concerts in high life are now conducted on so large a scale, as frequently to subject ladies who perform in them to some of the dangers [that] await the female performer in private theatres’. He questioned how the cause of religion could be served, if on the Sabbath ‘you fling open your doors to numbers’, if ‘your servants are occupied in the same hurry of attendance as at a rout’ and if your music is performed by persons hired from that repository of loose morals, the theatre.47 Margaret possessed a copy of Gisborne’s book. How could she reconcile her Sunday concerts with the proscriptions laid down by an author whom she admired? For William Chinnery was one who did hire musicians for his concerts. And airs from the latest opera were sung and overtures from the opera were played by the same musicians who performed them in the theatre. Yet Margaret would have been appalled by the notion that she was in any way contravening the tenets of her religion. So, she might have argued, firstly, that the scale of her parties was much smaller than those criticised by Gisborne. She might also have advanced that the majority of her musicians, that is, the ones who were friends of Viotti, were not hired (i.e. not paid). And she might truthfully have added that her servants had already fulfilled their devotional duties earlier in the day. In Margaret’s mind there was no moral conflict. Her world, like that of most members of the upper classes, accommodated both religion and revelry, and as long as her husband did not get tipsy her mind was at rest. For her, piety sat easily alongside pleasure. A more immediate problem of having Viotti in the house was that his English was far from fluent, and indeed Margaret communicated with him in French. It now became important to teach the children French,

36  Early married life beginning with grammar. Margaret turned to a book by the Abbé Gaultier, who had also emigrated to England in 1792, and who had founded a benevolent school for the children of French émigrés. In France Gaultier had devoted himself to education and had devised a method of teaching by games. He wrote a number of elementary study courses for children on different subjects, including French grammar. In the introduction to his Jeu de grammaire, published in London in 1794, he explained that while most elementary books on grammar were nothing but a mass of rules and abstract observations, his method aimed to turn instruction into a pleasurable game, during which children made considerable gains, not realising that they were taking a grammar lesson.48 There is a manuscript version of a component of this game, apparently in the author’s own hand, among the Chinnery Papers in Sydney University’s Rare Book Library (see Figure 2.1). It seems to be an unfinished teacher’s version of the chart called the Mechanism of Language, drawn by Gaultier for Margaret.49 Gaultier’s grammar game had six components, of which this chart is the first. In the Avertissement of his book explaining the game Gaultier describes it thus: This chart, in the form of a genealogy tree, presents to the eyes, as well as to the mind, how the relationships in grammar are linked, following the natural order of speech. It is made up of three tables, one showing the development of the noun, the second that of the verb, and the third that of the particle.50 The game – presumably to be played when the children were older – came with three canisters of round ivory counters in three different colours (for the three principal parts of speech), on each of which was written a grammatical term. Having first established which game is to be played (that of the noun, the verb or the particle), the teacher distributes to each player a certain number of tokens. Then he mixes up the ivory counters in a basket, from which he selects one at random and gives it to the first player, who places it on the corresponding circle on the chart and gives the appropriate definition of that term. The pupil is rewarded with a token for a correct answer, or has a token taken from him for a wrong answer. The winner is the player with the most tokens at the end of the game.51 The fifth component of Gaultier’s Jeu de grammaire was a small book for children aged three, exactly the age of the Chinnery twins when the London edition was published. Gaultier writes, This work, which is exactly the right level for [three-year-olds], contains two games designed to prepare them for the study of grammar. It gives them practice in spelling words by ideas, after they have learned to spell by syllables. This accustoms them to attach a distinct idea to each word.52

Early married life  37

Figure 2.1 A n unfinished sketch of the Abbé Gaultier’s Grammar Chart in his own hand, c.1794. The chart, measuring 41 cm × 33 cm, depicts the relationships between the different parts of speech in the form of a family tree. It is one component of a game to teach children grammar. This is the teacher’s version, with definitions supplied. Source: Rare Books and Special Collections, University of Sydney Library, Chinnery Family Papers, Fisher 2000–49/5.

Were the Chinnery children extraordinarily precocious, such as those cited in Grenby’s Child Reader, 53 or were children easily able to be taught what was claimed? Gaultier also authored a book on teaching young children to read at the age of three, Petit Livre des enfans de trois ans (Paris, 1786), which he says he copied from the English system. 54 He might have been referring to John Newbery’s Easy Introduction to the English Language (1745), which does not recommend a specific age at which to begin, simply stipulating that it should be ‘as soon as children have a Capacity for it’ or ‘very early’.55 This would indicate that English children, using material suited to their capacity, were being taught the rudiments of reading at three. Gaultier’s Jeu de grammaire also came with a prospectus describing the methodology of teaching by games, which ‘the greatest philosophers, such

38  Early married life as Plato, Locke and Montaigne, regarded as the most appropriate for the teaching of children’.56 Here was another French author acknowledging the antiquity of the principle of teaching by games. Margaret was a believer in the educational benefits of games, and also availed herself of Gaultier’s geography games (see below).

Gillwell When her twins turned five Margaret decided that it was time to implement Genlis’s education plan to the letter. Margaret had already planned for this eventuality when she persuaded her father to give her Gillwell as a marriage settlement, and since his death in 1792 the family had been using the estate as a weekend retreat. Genlis’s first requisite was that any mother wishing to educate her children properly must remove them from the harmful influences of city life before they became ‘infected with the contagion of fashionable manners’, as Clara Reeve put it. 57 Elizabeth Hamilton seconded Genlis and Reeve in this, emphasising the benefit to children’s health: ‘Children brought up in the country have, in every stage and period, a great advantage over those cooped up in towns’. 58 As far as salubrious surroundings were concerned, Margaret could not have chosen a better place. Cradled in the crook of Epping Forest near Waltham Abbey, Gillwell enjoyed peace and clean air. The house itself sat atop a hill overlooking the flats of the River Lea, and to Enfield beyond. Already in 1775 the locality had a reputation of being ‘so agreeably situated for privacy and retirement, as not to be exceeded by any other spot, however far remote from the metropolis’. 59 In the autumn of 1796 the Chinnerys made Gillwell their primary residence and William Chinnery’s name was included in the first edition of Boyle’s New Fashionable Court and Country Guide among the elite few who were wealthy enough to own both a town house and a country mansion.60 By removing to Gillwell to educate her children, Margaret proved herself to be one of those exceptional parents described by The Monthly Review who agreed ‘to devote themselves entirely to their children, and to submit to a kind of seclusion from the world which is seldom either eligible or practicable’.61 Margaret would have no more interruptions from idle callers filling the time of day. While it was not unusual for British families to educate their children in the country, the families who did so were generally aristocrats with vast estates, who were sufficiently wealthy to employ a team of private tutors. It was scarcely credible to the Chinnerys’ acquaintances that William’s earnings could support such an extravagant regime, yet this is precisely the lifestyle he sought to emulate. The only difference – and it was a big one – was that his wife intended to assume the duties of principal educator herself.

Early married life  39

Figure 2.2 Engraving of Gillwell House after Humphry Repton, 1807. It is the head vignette for the month of April in Peacock’s Polite Repository (1807), a sextodecimo pocket almanack. Such sketches by Repton usually indicated properties he had worked on, and indeed, in October 1805 William Chinnery paid Repton ten guineas, part of which may have been for the children’s gardens, the archery lawn and the open air theatre for the performance of juvenile plays, all behind the house. Source: The Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, (Alm.) 22871 g.2. Reproduced with kind permission of Essex Gardens Trust.

It was unusual enough for a fashionable woman to wish to remove herself almost entirely from the gay world, but to do so in order to devote herself to the education of her children was considered decidedly eccentric, and Margaret was ‘universally condemned’ for her decision. But having grown up without a mother, educated herself and studied the philosophical writings of Locke and others, Margaret had grown sure of her own mind. Writing to her son at Oxford years later, she told him what she thought of public opinion. I think there is a degree of weakness quite unpardonable, in suffering one’s feelings and sentiments of a higher kind to be influenced by it. It is the cause, I verily believe, of nine tenths of the follies of men, for no principle is so powerful over a weak mind […] But if I had not well considered this subject early in life, and if the result of my meditations and enquiries had not become a fixed and invariable rule of conduct, I should not be blessed with two such excellent children. When I left the gay circle of acquaintance in town, and came with you then quite infants of five years old, to settle altogether in the country, I was

40  Early married life universally condemned. My own family took the matter up more seriously still, and my Uncle Henry in a formal interview upon the subject, said that so extraordinary a resolution without adequate motive, could not fail of injuring me in the public opinion.62 Margaret’s uncle Henry Holland opposed the move on the grounds that Gillwell was so far removed from the city that his niece’s position in society would be jeopardised. This was a not unimportant consideration for a young couple like the Chinnerys, who, unsupported by ancestry, had to maintain a presence in the best company, or risk being forgotten. But Margaret did not mind the judgement of the world, and in any case had no intention of quitting her worldly life. She would simply bring the gay world to Gillwell. After all, Gillwell was not in some distant county. It was only a two-and-a-quarter-hour carriage ride from London. In Tresilian’s time Gillwell House had six bedrooms, and with all its offices, gardens, plantations, pleasure grounds, meadows and paddocks, it covered forty-two acres.63 After Tresilian’s death William purchased more parcels of land, converted a public road into a private carriageway into the property, beautified the gardens and made improvements to the house, using Henry Holland and his team of specialist craftsmen. His aim was to turn the property into ‘a most superior sort of Domain’.64 New flat-roofed dining and drawing rooms were added to the southern end of the original building, which included decorative features executed in Holland’s most elegant classical style. After the Holland makeover the house became a fine two-storey villa, with eight bedrooms, five of which had dressing rooms attached. In the whole estate there was accommodation for ten masters and eleven servants. At the time of its sale in 1813 Gillwell was described as ‘a capital mansion house’ with ‘about 57 acres of meadow, garden, orchard and other land’.65 The decorative features inside the house were inspired by a collection of Italian and Northern Renaissance designs for ornament by various artists stuck into a scrapbook, which Margaret owned (she has written her name on the first folio), and which is today in Sir John Soane’s Museum Library in London, where it is known as ‘the Margaret Chinnery Album’. A handsome album, bound in vellum and tooled in gold, it had probably been given to her by her uncle, for the designs were for house and garden ornament, such as were used by eighteenth-century architects wishing to be correct in every detail of their classically inspired creations. Included in the scrapbook were architectural and garden features such as facades, porticos, ceilings, ornamental mouldings, pedestals, garden niches and fireplaces, right down to utilitarian items such as ornamental vases, ewers and candelabras.66 Because the Chinnery children were growing up in an era when connoisseurship was regarded as the badge of a well-educated gentleman, it was important that they be given a thorough grounding in Greek and Roman

Early married life  41 mythology to enable them to appreciate the treasures whichs were being brought into England in ever-increasing numbers, not to mention the ornamental detail copied from these antiquities that went into every fashionable house, such as those wrought by Henry Holland’s artisans in the Chinnerys’ own chimneypieces, cornices, ceilings, friezes and furniture. For this reason, Margaret read to her young children Greek and Roman mythologies adapted to their age. In Adèle et Théodore Genlis explained that a knowledge of Roman mythology was just as important as a knowledge of ancient history for understanding the treasures of Rome.67 At the end of the Chinnerys’ stay in Paris in 1802, Genlis presented Margaret with a leather-bound manuscript, compiled from her notes on mythology for the use of the children.68 The gift was treasured by Margaret, and in 1803 she commissioned a portrait of herself from the French artist Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, in which she is depicted holding the manuscript. This was a work that she would certainly not have allowed to fall into the hands of the bailiffs in 1812. Yet a work on mythology by Genlis does appear on the Christie sale catalogue.69 Apart from her Arabesques mythologiques (not the work in the Catalogue), no other Genlis work on mythology has survived.

Educational activities Gillwell was too far from London for William to travel daily to Whitehall, and so he remained at Mortimer Street on weekdays. Keeping a house in town enabled Margaret to spend the spring season in London, and to stay overnight when she consulted a physician, or went to concerts. During the week Margaret lived alone at Gillwell with the children, the French governess and her servants. Margaret and the governess dined with the children and conversation in French was encouraged, just as English was in Genlis’s fictitious household. Viotti joined her in 1799. It was ironic, given that Viotti had fled the French Revolution because of his connection with the queen, that he should have been expelled from Britain in March 1798, accused of being a Jacobin. The Chinnerys manoeuvred successfully to have the order overturned, and on Viotti’s return from Hamburg eighteen months later he went straight to Gillwell, where he lived in retirement for the following thirteen years.70 The first five years of education at Gillwell have been recorded in the first book of Margaret’s education journal, dated 1796–1801,71 where it is clear that Margaret was inspired by Genlis’s advice and ideas, but also by others. In Adèle et Théodore Genlis writes that almost all children are born with a prodigious memory capacity, which can be put to use in education ‘if only we can turn their minds to it’.72 The most important thing in education was not to hurry, not to teach children anything that they could not understand, while at the same time not neglecting anything that they could.73 Or, as she puts it in her New Method of Instruction for Children from Five to Ten

42  Early married life Years, ‘children should neither be converted into unmeaning parrots, by being taught what they cannot understand, nor made the victims of premature instruction; but they should be taught whatever they can learn with pleasure and facility’.74 Using conversation as a teaching tool, Margaret instructed her four-yearold children in biblical history, then talked about the mystery of redemption. The book Margaret relied on for the children’s earliest instruction on religion was Sarah Trimmer’s An Easy Introduction to the Knowledge of Nature and Reading the Holy Scripture (1780) based on Isaac Watts’s Treatise on the Education of Children (1769), in which he writes, ‘Almost everything is new to a Child, and Novelty will entice them onward to new Acquisitions’.75 She also used Watts’s Catechisms (1730), which contained prayers for very young children, and catechisms for them to learn by heart. Watts stressed the importance of having children understand what they were reciting, and not ‘gabble over mere sounds and syllables […] as parrots do, without meaning, which practice hath neither reason nor religion in it’.76 This was an important consideration, and required vigilance on the part of the educator, as learning by heart was an integral part of a young child’s education. By the age of five the Chinnery twins had learned by heart the whole volume of Anna Laetitia Barbauld’s Hymns in Prose for Children (1781) and more than half of Watts’s Hymns in verse composed especially for early childhood (probably Hymns and Moral Songs for the Use of Children, a revised 1791 edition of his Hymns and Spiritual Songs (1707)), a verse of which they recited on alternate days. To teach her children to read Margaret used four duodecimo volumes of Barbauld’s Lessons for Children from Three to Four Years Old (1788), recommended by Sarah Trimmer, who praised its ‘stile of familiar conversation’.77 The stories were at the level of a child’s understanding and the Chinnery children were able to read them with ease by the age of five. They read each chapter twice, in accordance with Genlis’s principle of repetition for complete comprehension. For variety, Margaret supplemented Barbauld’s book with excerpts from the newspaper or from one of her own books, showing that at five years of age the children were good readers. In reading aloud they were also fluent, but occasionally tripped over multi-syllabic words. At the age of five the twins drew for half an hour after breakfast with the French governess, and practised counting in French. The governess then conversed with them in French about the fabric that their clothes were made of, and where it came from. They spoke French as well as English, but made mistakes in grammar and phraseology in both languages. However, they were fluent enough in French to be understood by all who spoke to them. Walter, aged three, learned how to spell five or six words each day of two syllables. Before going upstairs to bed the twins recited one of the hymns they had learned by heart and counted in English for a few minutes.

Early married life  43 Walter did his counting after dinner at 3.00pm. By the age of six the twins had learned their multiplication tables up to seven and also did sums in their head. In geography the children learned where all the countries in Europe were situated, as well as their capitals, rivers, mountain ranges, etc., using the Abbé Gaultier’s undated Leçons de géographie, which used games to instruct. Gaultier prefaced his work with much the same message as he had his grammar book: up until the appearance of his book, learning geography had been nothing but a memory exercise for children, who had never set eyes on a map or globe. (Margaret could attest to the truth of that statement.) His book aimed to remedy that situation by means of games. The first was in the form of a lottery. The second was guessing places by their geographic and historic characteristics, and the third by a knowledge of the globe. The fourth was an ambitious game, which involved drawing a representation of a globe on a piece of flat ground, the lines of latitude and longitude marked out by pieces of string tied to pegs, and the four quadrants of the globe marked by bricks. Countries were indicated by white pebbles and provinces by black. It is not known if Margaret bothered with the fourth game, but she did ask guests to join in the geography guessing games with the children over dinner, making an amusing party entertainment. Once the children could read and write Margaret had them copy out excerpts from what they had read. These were termed ‘examples’ by Genlis. When the children were older they progressed to a harder exercise, which was writing ‘extracts’, which Genlis defined as ‘abridging or relating in a few words, whether in writing or conversation, the substance or most important part of what we have just read or heard’.78 At about the age of six Caroline began piano lessons (taught by Margaret) and George and Walter violin lessons (taught by Viotti).79 To teach the musical notes Margaret might have hung representations of them about the house. This was a practice recommended by Genlis, but it was Isaac Watts who had much earlier explained the rationale behind the practice: the frequent sighting of such images impressed them on the brain, thus greatly assisting the memory.80 One black evening in early 1797 Margaret was obliged to light her candles early. She decided to turn the inconvenient darkness to advantage by teaching her children a ‘new’ game. Locke was the first to explain why children made the irrational association of goblins with darkness,81 Rousseau devised a game to quash this fear and Genlis took up the idea.82 Margaret wrote to William: The children are quite well and very good. We invented a new play for them last night, which obliges them to go in a dark room by themselves. This will accustom them to the Dark, without their having any of those foolish Fears. Nothing is immaterial in Education, or to be neglected. They played at it very well for more than an hour.83

44  Early married life William had fitted up Gillwell to conform to Margaret’s educational requirements. Upstairs she had her own suite of rooms, which she referred to as her ‘apartments’ (double bedroom, adjoining dressing room and study). In her study she had a bed, flanked by a winged bookcase, a desk and a library table with a green morocco top, some bookstands, and chairs for her pupils. There were maps on the walls and this was where she kept the teaching aids.84 Soon she would also have a ‘théâtre gymnastique’, an indoor exercise area in which to put her children through Genlis’s bizarre exercise regime, which involved pulling on weighted ropes attached to a pulley system hanging from the ceiling, carrying weight-filled baskets on their back, lifting dumb-bells and tramping about in lead-soled shoes. The gymnasium was ‘much wanted’, Margaret said, in inclement weather.85 Time did not weigh on Margaret during the years she spent living alone at Gillwell, for ‘our various occupations of a morning, and our music and conversation of an evening makes the time pass with incredible swiftness’.86 When Margaret wrote those words the twins were about six years old, and already she was deliberately using familiar conversation (which Sarah Trimmer defined as ‘free from all formality’)87 as an education tool. In households like the Chinnerys’, of ‘wealth, leisure and culture’,88 conversation was an important part of sociability, which had long been a framework within which amusing conversation could be used to instruct. As Watts saw it, conversation was ‘another method of improving our minds’.89 The French educationist Abbé Louis Gaultier recommended talking to very young children, writing at the front of his 1786 Lectures graduées, ‘The English have long recognized the usefulness of this art, all too neglected elsewhere’.90 Genlis, who recognised the educational benefits of familiar conversation in Adèle et Théodore, may also have been following the English example, when she wrote that she always took the opportunity to make conversation during carriage rides, as it was a means of teaching children without their suspecting it.91 Margaret read to the children after dinner from Genlis’s A New Method of Instruction for Children, which included moral dialogues. Genlis had the knack of finding exactly the right level for the age of the child for which she was writing, and her moral dialogues were an ideal springboard from which to launch a conversation. Margaret would have easily been able to spark the children’s interest and elicit observations on what they had just heard, as she did when she read John Aikin’s and Anna Barbauld’s Evenings at Home.92 The last was a miscellany of dialogues, short fables and other instructive stories written, as Genlis’s dialogues were, to promote conversation. According to Genlis, almost all children were talkative, but the child who chatted only with his parents and companions and who liked listening to others would surely grow up to have a good mind.93 Margaret would have drawn the children out on the fable’s meaning, then encouraged them to make remarks and pose questions. This form of questioning was encouraged, unlike importunate questioning, which was the subject of a

Early married life

45

separate lesson. For the last, Margaret also drew on Genlis’s New Method of Instruction for Children, which told them that I ought not to speak without reflection; that I should only ask necessary or useful questions, and that I should only ask them of those who love me and who are able to answer them […] and that I must choose a proper time to ask questions, and not interrupt people when they are reading or talking.94 (In an enlightened household, reading was central to everyday life, and it would have been as common for children to encounter an adult reading when they entered a room, as it would be to find them engaged in conversation or writing letters.) Margaret might equally have proposed an unambitious domestic concert, which she termed ‘musique en famille’ (domestic music), especially after Viotti’s return from Hamburg. The domestic concerts that Margaret organised for her family took place in Gillwell’s dining parlour, where there was a small table pianoforte.95 (A Broadwood grand stood in the drawing room.) The children heard Viotti play his own concertos, and their mother play piano sonatas accompanied by him on the violin. Participating in domestic music making and listening to others perform was an important part of the children’s education. By the age of seven Caroline could play simple sonatas. While in exile in Hamburg Viotti composed some short sonatas for Caroline, mentioned in a letter he wrote to her in October 1798. He also wrote from Hamburg to Walter, then aged five, asking him to take good care of his flower bed.96 The influence of Adèle et Théodore can be seen in these letters. Like Adèle and Théodore, the Chinnery children were taught the names of the plants and given some practical instructions by the gardener. There is a slight undercurrent of threat detectable in both letters. Walter is told that he will not receive another letter until Viotti hears that he has been behaving well. Nor would Caroline receive her sonatas until she cooperated in her music lessons. Margaret’s insistence on obedience in her pupils was every bit as draconian as Genlis’s, and Walter, according to Margaret’s education journal, was a disobedient child. Viotti was well aware of the way Margaret conducted her education programme because he himself played a significant part in it. His input into Caroline’s music education was considerable, but he also contributed to some of the children’s other lessons (French and Italian) and activities (small theatrical productions). He was well qualified for the last role, having been musical director of the King’s Theatre in London in the years leading up to his exile.

Notes 1 Felton, p. 77. 2 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 530. 3 Hamilton, Elementary Principles, II, 250.

46

Early married life

4 Ibid., p. 251. 5 Logick; or, The Right Use of Reason in the Enquiry after Truth (1725) and its sequel The Improvement of the Mind (1741, with a second part added posthumously, 1751). In the Christie sale catalogue, lot 13. 6 Watts, Improvement of the Mind (1787), ‘Advertisement’ at the front of the book. The 1787 edition was the first to carry it. 7 Stanhope, pp. 24–25. 8 Ibid., pp. 26–27. 9 MC to WBC, c.January 1795, Fisher 2000–18/1. 10 ‘Do dearest Peg, instruct me on this Point!’ (WBC to MC, 25 May 1812, PHM 94/143/1–7/14). 11 Catharine Macaulay Graham, as she called herself on the title page. In the Christie sale catalogue (lot 24) as ‘Graham’s Letters’. 12 Macaulay, p. 36. 13 Ibid., p. iii. 14 Marsak, p. 62. 15 ‘Discours préliminaire’ to the Grande Encyclopédie, cited in Marsak, p. 6. 16 Locke, Concerning Human Understanding, I, second page of the Epistle to the Reader (unpaginated). 17 Cited in Vila, p. 54. 18 Milton in his entry for ‘John Locke’ in the ODNB (‘Controversy and Public Service, 1695–1700’) believes that suspicions about Locke’s Socinianism ‘were probably justified’. Lot 24 in the Christie sale catalogue is ‘Price’s Letters’, almost certainly A Free Discussion of the Doctrines of Materialism and Philosophical Necessity, in a Correspondence between Dr Price and Dr Priestley (1778). 19 Bowdler, ed., p. 76. 20 Saint-Pierre, II, 371. Originally published in French in 1784, the first English translation was in 1796 in five volumes. The Christie sale catalogue (lot 12) specifies that Margaret owned the three-volume edition, thus the 1798 or 1799 one. Volume three consists of a 50-page treatise on education. 21 More, I, 4–5. 22 Jenkin, I, v. 23 Gisborne, Duties of the Female Sex, p. 42. 24 Gisborne, Survey of the Christian Religion, pp. iv, x. In 1810 this book was lent to George Chinnery by his Oxford tutor William Corne, showing its continuing wide appeal. 25 MC on Gillwell, 2 July 1812 (priv. coll. Ken Stubbings). 26 Cited in Rendall, ‘“Elementary Principles of Education”’, p. 618. 27 Ibid. 28 Locke, Concerning Human Understanding, I, 448. 29 Hamilton, Elementary Principles, I, vii. 30 More, II, 5–6. 31 MC, Diary, 14 March 1812. PHM 94/143/1–10. 32 Campe, An Abridgement, p. iii. 33 Westminster Archives, St Marylebone, Register of baptisms. 34 Reported in WBC to MC, 16 May 1812, PHM 94/143/1–7/12. 35 The Times, 26 March 1812. 36 Westminster Archives, St Marylebone, Register of baptisms. 37 MC to WBC, 13 July 1795, Fisher 2000–18/2. 38 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 75. 39 Macaulay, p. 32. 40 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 73.

Early married life 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84

47

Ibid., p. 85. Lot 62 in the Christie sale catalogue. Watts, Improvement of the Mind, p. 24. See Lister, pp. 5–14. See Yim, ‘A British Child’s Music Education’, pp. 25–45. MC’s Journal, Book 2, p. 8. Gisborne, Duties of the Female Sex, pp. 176, 178. Gaultier, Jeu de grammaire, p. vii. It is in a French hand which is not Viotti’s. A second sheet contains a few barely decipherable scribbles in Margaret’s hand with the heading ‘tous les mots possibles’ (all the words possible), Fisher 2000–49/5. Gaultier, Jeu de grammaire, p. iii. Ibid., pp. vii–xi (‘Rules of the game’). Ibid., p. iv. Grenby, The Child Reader, p. 39. Gaultier, Lectures graduées, p. 1. Newbery, An Easy Introduction to the English Language, p. iii. He also says it will be of service to infants (p. i). Gaultier, Jeu de grammaire, p. iv. Reeve, p. 47. Hamilton, Elementary Principles, I, 291. Harrison, p. 559. Since married women were not permitted under the law of coverture to own property, the estate passed straight to William. Monthly Review, May 1784, p. 338. MC to GRC, 14 [recte 15] January 1808, Ch.Ch., MS xlviii a. 42a, fol. 4. WBC, Legal papers, PHM 94/143/1–13/2. WBC to MC, 24 August 1812, PHM 94/143/1–7/17. The Times, 1 March 1813. See Fairbairn, I, 219–63. Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, II, 456–57. Genlis to MC, [October 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 68. Listed as ‘Couuris [Cours] de la Mythologie, Genlis’, lot 35, this appears to be the work on mythology authored by Genlis that is mentioned in Adèle et Théodore (II, 456). See Yim, ‘Dangerous Liaisons’, pp. 163–87. MC’s Journal, Book 1 (priv. coll. James Paul). I have been able to view only a fraction of its eighty-eight pages. Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 75. Ibid., p. 85. Genlis, New Method of Instruction, pp. 3–4. Watts, A Treatise, p. 16. Watts, First Set of Catechisms, p. v. First published in 1730, it is mentioned in MC’s Journal, Book 2, p. 141. Trimmer, An Easy Introduction, p. xii. Genlis, New Method of Instruction, p. 77. The boys’ music lessons were discontinued after a couple of years. Watts, Improvement of the Mind, p. 176. Locke, Concerning Human Understanding, I, 448. Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 77–78. MC to WBC, c.February 1797, Fisher 2000–18/5. Catalogue of the […] household furniture […] of W. Chinnery Esq, pp. 31–32.

48

Early married life

85 MC to WBC, c.February 1797, Fisher 2000–18/5. 86 Ibid. At that time there was no concept of afternoon, as we understand it. The morning stretched from when the children rose from their beds (6.00am in summer) until 3.00pm, which was dinner time. After dinner it was deemed evening. 87 Trimmer, An Easy Introduction, p. xii. 88 Cohen, ‘“Familiar Conversation”’, p. 100. 89 Watts, Improvement of the Mind, p. 38. 90 Gaultier, Lectures graduées, p. 3. 91 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, II, 276. 92 Called ‘Barbauld’s Miscellanies’ in the Christie sale catalogue (lot 12). 93 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 137. 94 Genlis, New Method of Instruction, p. 76. 95 Catalogue of the […] household furniture […] of W. Chinnery Esq, p. 37. 96 Both letters are transcribed and translated in Yim, Viotti and the Chinnerys, pp. 121–23.

3

The education journal

When the twins were ten years old and Walter eight, Margaret began the second book of her education journal (1801–08).1 She set out her aims in the following manner: In order to assist you in forming your mind and manners, I will write my daily observations on your conduct, or at least whenever any thing sufficiently remarkable shall occur and the account shall be read aloud by me of you the following morning at breakfast. 2 She did this in accordance with Genlis’s instructions set out in Adèle et Théodore and in her other non-fictitious work of education, Leçons d’une gouvernante à ses élèves (Lessons of a Governess to her Pupils). In it Genlis writes that the aim of keeping a journal is to enable the educator to ‘be acquainted with the character, mind, faults, virtues and innate tendencies of her pupils and at the same time [for them] to understand the teacher’s way of thinking and feeling’.3 Margaret sets out identical intentions in the following passage from her journal, which dates from the twins’ twelfth birthday, when, she believed, like Rousseau and Genlis, that children had reached the age of reason and should begin to reflect on their lives and be accountable for their actions. The following clearly demonstrates that her inspiration comes from Genlis, whom the family has just met in Paris. This book is meant to convey to you my remarks on your daily conduct; your progress in piety, learning benevolence, and general politeness, will be noticed, as well as your deficiency in any of these particulars. Where you have omitted a duty, an attention towards anyone, an opportunity of showing goodness of heart, you will here be reminded of it the following morning. Where you have performed these duties imperfectly, I shall endeavour as far as I am able to shew you how you might have done better. Every instance of idleness and neglect will be criticised; every proof of attention, and consequent improvement will here receive its due share of applause. My object in this undertaking is to form your heart, mind, and manners, by obliging you to keep an

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-4

50  The education journal attentive eye, on your own conduct, from the persuasion that you will be vigilantly observed during every instant of your existence, whether alone or in company, at work or at play, at home or abroad.4 So that none of the child’s actions went undetected, Genlis recommended that the tutor or governess also keep his or her own written record. Therefore Margaret required her French governess, and even her eldest pupil Maria (see below), to keep a journal. Viotti was an invaluable substitute for Margaret when she was obliged to go into town or when she was ill, in which case he would read the governess’s journal to the children at breakfast, and communicate the contents to her by letter.5 Margaret ensured that she was fully acquainted with the different characters of her children, and she fearlessly recorded their faults and praised their achievements, reminding them repeatedly of her pledge to do so, ‘I have engaged to write down impartially the merits and demerits of both and shall be faithful to my engagement’.6 The second of Margaret’s education journals is contained, like the first, in one exercise book. Also like the first, it is written partly in French and partly in English. It is kept fairly regularly, but there are some long gaps, usually caused by illness. One, from August to December 1807, was caused by Genlis’s adolescent adopted son who was entrusted briefly to Margaret’s care.7 On the birthday of each child Margaret drew up a yearly progress report: a list of all the books read and the pieces of music studied, as well as a report on each child’s character and physical development. The earliest and most complete timetable (plan de journée) describes a typical weekday and weekend at Gillwell when the twins were ten years old. It is transcribed here in full because it seems to be a template for the others, which are briefer and less specific.8 Plan de journée for 4 April 1801 6am The children will rise before breakfast. Weather permitting, they will exercise in the garden and also recite their chronology. They will do mental arithmetic while walking, and if the weather is fine enough, work in their gardens until breakfast. If it is raining or the weather is bad they will come inside, and from 7.30 till 8.00 will occupy themselves for half an hour. Caroline will practise scales on the piano, and George, Walter and Maria will, separately, do sums. 8.00am

Breakfast.

8.30am–9.30am Caroline will practise on the piano for an hour. George will do sums, or study grammar until 9.00am, and then will work on his [writing] composition until 9.30am. Meanwhile Walter will devote half an hour to his translation, and the other half hour he will recite his lessons with Mamselle [the French governess]. 9.30am–10.20am

Drawing.

The education journal  51 10.20am–10.50am Playing the geography game (the maps having been prepared earlier9) or explaining the history etchings [of historical or mythological subjects]. Thus, if they are punctual, they will be ready to walk at 10.50am and will be outside at 11.00am sharp. 11.00am Recreation. At least twice a week I wish them to leave Gillwell and spend a good hour walking outside the property at a brisk pace. On the other days they will stay within the grounds and each will work on his own garden bed for half an hour with help and advice from the gardener. The boys will spend the other half hour riding. In bad weather half of the recreation hour will be spent exercising in the long passage,10 playing shuttlecock, skipping, or the boys will play billiards. The other half will be spent looking at etchings and explaining them. 12 noon

Light lunch.

12.15pm–1.15pm I will read aloud with the older ones. Meanwhile Walter will read with Amico [Viotti] and learn his lesson. 1.15pm–1.25pm We all gather together again for ten minutes of carrying back baskets [hottes]. 1.25pm–2.30pm A full hour to be spent in the following manner. Three times a week, Monday, Wednesday and Friday, they will practise writing under my supervision. On the other [days] Caroline will spend the entire hour composing and preluding with Amico. The boys will recite poems and speeches with me. 2.30–3.00pm

Dress for dinner.

3.00–4.00pm Dinner. Must be finished by 4.00pm. 4.00pm–5.00pm Recreation. Weather permitting, they will go into the garden. The gardener will accompany them three times a week for half an hour. He will teach them the names of the trees, plants and flowers, and they will write down all the names they have learned in a book, and the same evening I will read to them from a natural history book, giving them further details. 5.00pm–6.00pm Piano and singing lesson for Caroline. Meanwhile George and Walter will revise their morning’s lessons, but as that does not always take a full hour, they will busy themselves with sums, and looking at history or mythology etchings until 6.00pm. 6.00pm–6.30pm They will all gather together for a Roman history lesson, a mythology lesson, or religious instruction, taken alternately.

52  The education journal 6.30pm–7.00pm Running. 7.00pm–8.00pm Reading for pleasure, tales, episodes from history and conversation. 8.00pm

Supper.

8.30pm

Bedtime.

Variations for Saturdays because of M. Celli11 and the drawing lesson Until 9.30am

Lessons as usual.

9.30am–10.00am

History or geography lesson with Mamselle.

10.00am–11.00am read with Amico.

Reading with me. Walter will learn his lesson and

11.00am–12.00pm

Recreation.

[12.00pm–12.15pm Light lunch.] 12.15pm–1.15pm Composition and preluding for Caroline [with Viotti or Bianchi12]. Recitation for the boys with me. 1.15pm–1.30pm

Basket carrying exercise until M. Celli’s arrival.

1.30pm–3.00pm

Drawing lesson.

3.00pm–3.30pm

Dress for dinner.

3.30pm–4.30pm

Dinner [Celli included].

4.30pm–5.30pm

Recreation.

5.30pm–6.30pm Piano and singing lesson for Caroline with me if M. Bianchi does not come. If M. Bianchi does come Caroline will take a composition lesson from him. The boys will occupy themselves as usual. [6.30pm–7.00pm 7.00pm–7.30pm

Roman history/mythology/religion lesson]. Running.

7.30pm–8.30pm Reading for pleasure if possible. If M. Bianchi is here it will not be possible. [Bianchi always stayed the weekend. Then music replaced reading.]

The education journal  53 [8.30pm

Supper.]

[9.00pm

Bedtime.]

Sundays On Sundays it is impossible to draw up a timetable because of the uncertainty of M. Bianchi’s coming, and because we might go to church. When M. Bianchi is here, or when we go to church, the day will be easily filled with physical exercise and religious instruction after dinner. During Caroline’s lesson with M. Bianchi (thorough bass and composition) Papa will do sums with the boys and Maria every Sunday. If M. Bianchi does not come Caroline will also do sums with Papa and I will give her the piano and singing lesson. All the hallmarks of Genlis’s education plan are here, from the filling of every hour of every day of the week, to the early morning start, to the same lessons taken in the morning, after dinner and in the evening, right down to the hour of bedtime. There is the same attention to punctuality, the same economy of even minutes. There is the same use of pictures to teach history and mythology, of maps to teach geography and of recitation to teach eloquence. All the children do physical exercises and play games, as recommended by Genlis, for example, carrying back baskets, for which Margaret used the same French term as in Adèle et Théodore, hottes. These were large conical-shaped wicker baskets strapped to the back, traditionally used by French peasants to carry heavy farm produce. The children carried them up and down stairs to strengthen their backs. Like Locke (‘A sound mind in a sound body, is a short, but full description of a happy state in this world’13), Margaret believed that children should be kept strong and healthy to facilitate intellectual learning. Margaret owned a copy of Christian Gotthilf Salzmann’s Gymnastics for Youth (1800), but it was Genlis’s method that she followed most closely in her physical exercise regime. Writing up Walter’s progress report on his ninth birthday, she entered, under the heading ‘Body Exercises’: No illness this year. Walter is much grown, is thinner but more active, and not less strong in proportion than before. He rides extremely well, continues his military exercises, wears shoes that weigh 7 ounces each, his halters weigh each 3lb, in his hotte he carries 28lb, and he draws 20lb in the Pully. He runs 24 minutes.14 A reader coming across this description in a nineteenth-century English lady’s journal would be very much surprised if he were not familiar with Genlis’s methods. The weights in the boys’ shoes were increased gradually over time, as they became stronger. They lifted weights (‘halters’), following the same incremental protocol. The hotte strapped to their backs also

54  The education journal became heavier as they grew older and stronger. Each of these exercises is explained in Leçons d’une gouvernante at the end of the second volume under the heading ‘Gymnastique’,15 where Genlis writes that the aim of gymnastics, from an educational point of view, is ‘to fortify the constitution, promote health, ward off fatigue, and give agility, dexterity, flexibility and strength’.16 Just how revolutionary this exercise regime was at the time is shown by the number of critics who claimed that Genlis would kill her charges with such methods.17 Margaret practised all but two of the seventeen activities listed in Leçons d’une gouvernante. Although Genlis maintained that girls and boys should share the same lessons, there were some subjects and activities that were gender selective in Adèle et Théodore, and also in Margaret’s programme. Only the boys do recitation, go horse-riding, lift dumb-bells, wear lead-soled shoes, play billiards, swim, fence and practise ‘military exercises’ with small arms and sabres (part of every eighteenth-century gentleman’s education). All the children take dancing and drawing lessons. (Their first dancing lesson was October 1801, when the twins were ten and Walter eight.) Margaret followed Genlis in most instances of gender differentiation, which were generally based on the accepted social norms, but often went her own way according to her family’s particular needs. Just as Genlis was mindful that she was educating a royal prince who would require an education to suit his status, so Margaret adapted her education plan according to her ambitions for her children. In the case of her boys, it was that they should go into parliament. For this they needed a classical education and oratorial skills. In the case of Caroline, it was that she should possess all the feminine virtues and accomplishments, as well as strength of mind. Her ambitions for her children are stated in her opening entry for the Journal, Book 2. They are the same that most late eighteenth-century education writers enunciated, namely that boys should grow up to be useful to their country, and that girls should contribute to the betterment of society from the domestic sphere. I see George the pride of his parents, distinguished for his excellent qualities, uniting gentleness to manly firmness, universal and profound learning to modesty; religious, without display or ostentation, amiable, animated, and eloquently polite, without affectation; beloved by his friends, adored by his family, and obtaining the esteem and applause of his country for his useful and valuable services. On the other hand I see Caroline, under the safe and grateful shelter of the parental roof, equal in temper, pious, gentle, unoffending, and pleasing in manner, well informed, having a taste for useful and elegant pursuits, and dispensing good of every kind to all around her.18 Viotti’s close involvement in the children’s education, especially Walter’s, is evident in the 1801 timetable. Because of his theatre connections, he was also able to introduce Margaret to music and dancing masters. Francesco Bianchi, the Italian opera composer who had been Viotti’s colleague at the

The education journal  55 King’s Theatre in Haymarket, was Caroline’s music composition teacher for eight years. The dancing masters came and went, according to Margaret’s satisfaction with them. All were members of the King’s Theatre ballet corps. The reason that Bianchi’s weekend visits to Gillwell were unreliable was that during the opera season his presence might have been required at the Theatre on Saturday nights. On weekdays Viotti taught Caroline composition and a skill that is all but forgotten today, preluding (improvisation), and Bianchi taught her thorough bass and accompaniment on the weekends. That a ten-year-old child should be learning such difficult disciplines is cause for wonder. Genlis herself said that it was ‘absurd’ to teach a child of ten the rules of accompaniment,19 but this was another instance of Margaret making up her own mind. Margaret was determined that her daughter would be thoroughly versed in music theory, then called the science of music and firmly in the male preserve. Caroline spent three and a half hours a day on music, for this was to be her principal adornment and her unique intellectual achievement. By 1802 Viotti was able to write to a colleague in Paris that Caroline knew as much about composition and the use of harmony as any composer.20 However, Margaret did not wish her daughter to be thought eccentric. In the main she taught her children what was then considered appropriate for their sex and station, making an exception for composition, about which she was passionate. When Caroline played for a private assembly, Margaret insisted that she behaved modestly and naturally. Like Adèle, she was not allowed to become vain as a result of her superior skills. The church that the Chinnerys attended was Waltham Abbey, where the family had its own pew. The curate was Reverend Isaac John Colnett, whom Margaret knew well. On the Sundays that the family did not attend church a service was held in Gillwell’s chapel. Margaret had a rich crimson silk velvet pulpit and desk valance, and a large communion cloth for this purpose. 21 Every Sunday the children read a part of the New Testament, working through it from beginning to end. Up to the age of nine they also recited catechisms for young children from Isaac Watts’s Catechisms. But by the age of ten, Margaret wrote in her progress report for 1801, the twins had ‘both learnt to say by heart the Church Catechism and will now say it on Sundays, instead of [that of] Dr Watts’.22 Margaret kept the religious feasts punctiliously. In Passion Week the children read (in French) the appropriate prayers and meditations from Genlis’s Nouvelles heures à l’usage des enfants depuis l’âge de cinq ans jusqu’à douze (1801) and Margaret read to the children from Blair’s Sermons.

Margaret’s pupils With Margaret’s strong Christian faith came a sense of Christian obligation. She believed that compassion and charity were the two most important female virtues. If a child was recommended to her, she took steps to be of assistance. Margaret had a friend, the author Sir John Carr, who had a similar interest in helping needy children. Carr was a travel writer and

56  The education journal made his fortune churning out popular ‘Tours’. He was a regular visitor to Gillwell. Carr respected Margaret’s judgement and sought her advice on the placement of several orphans who had come to his notice. Margaret did her best to steer them towards a better future, either through her own family’s or her husband’s connections. Even the Chinnerys’ cook’s son, little Edward McKeone, was helped into Christ’s Hospital, a charitable institution which lodged and educated needy children and gave those with potential the opportunity to attend university or embark on a naval career. The boy was introduced by the wealthy building contractor Alexander Copland, an associate of Margaret’s Uncle Holland. Carr called Margaret these children’s ‘deliverer’. 23 Sometimes, if the children were close to her, Margaret went further and gave them an education herself. Thus, in addition to her own three, she took on the education of three other children. They came to her in different ways. The first was the daughter of the local curate, Reverend Colnett, who had served the parish of Waltham Holy Cross for the previous ten years. The parish was a poor one and provided only a meagre living to this father of a large family, and the curate was dependent on charity to make ends meet. 24 When Colnett’s sixth daughter was born on 3 October 1797, Margaret offered to adopt the infant. The child was christened Margaret Chinnery on 4 July 1800, 25 and in order to distinguish her from her adoptive mother, she was known as ‘little Margaret’. Margaret also had a niece, Matilda Chinnery, who was born in India just two months after little Margaret. She was the eldest child of William’s brother John, a writer (civil servant) with the East India Company since 1792. Like all English parents in India in those days, Matilda’s parents wished to send their daughter to England to be educated. Margaret offered to bring her up at Gillwell. The closeness in age of Matilda and little Margaret would make her education planning easier. Three-year-old Matilda Chinnery arrived from India with her chaperones in September 1800. 26 Little Margaret was also brought to Gillwell around this time. When the little girls turned five, they joined Margaret’s education programme. The third child in Margaret’s care was a certain Martha Philipps, who was referred to in Margaret’s education journal simply as Maria. She was two or three years older than the twins and appears to have lost her mother. She was required to keep a journal to record what went on between the children in the privacy of their rooms.27 She remained with the family until 1806. There was also a fourth child, or adolescent, who was briefly in Margaret’s care in 1807. This was the seventeen-year-old adopted son of Madame de Genlis, Casimir Baecker, an immature, irresponsible youth, whom Genlis sent to England to try to start his career as a harpist. Genlis herself was a proficient harpist, and authored a tutor for the harp, Nouvelle Méthode pour apprendre à jouer de la harpe (1811), which she sent to Margaret as soon as it was published. 28 (Caroline Chinnery had been learning the harp since the age of thirteen.) Genlis admitted she had been unable to attend

The education journal  57 properly to Casimir’s education, and, with disconcerting nonchalance, asked Margaret to do it.29 In the few months that Casimir spent at Gillwell, Margaret made him conform to her strict daily routine and corrected his manners. Viotti supervised his harp practice. Margaret’s friend, the aristocratic London society poet William Spencer (see Chapter 5), applauded her: ‘You have made him the most governable creature possible. My father is delighted with him. You, cara Padrona, can do more in six months than your friend Mme de Genlis in ten years’.30 On the twins tenth birthday, 3 September 1801, Margaret entered in her Journal a long progress report, beginning with a character appraisal, then a summary of what they had learned, the books they had read and their gains in physical strength. The only character fault Margaret could find in George was a slight tendency to be inattentive. He was frank, modest, liked learning and applied himself diligently. But her criticism of Caroline was harsh. Her biggest fault was using evasion and artifice to excuse herself from a wrong she had committed. But her temper had improved and although her musical talent was exceptional, she did not exhibit the slightest vanity. In both George and Caroline Margaret wished for more warmth and affection, especially in their devotions. As for what they had learned, to a modern reader their attainments seem astonishing. They both spoke English, French and Italian equally well. Margaret went out of her way to praise Caroline’s progress in music composition. She could even write parts for two, three or four instruments. She believed that if Bianchi had been able to give her more attention, she would by now have learned all there was to know about the rules of composition and accompaniment. (In fact, Bianchi resided at Gillwell for seven weeks that autumn, giving her an hour’s lesson on counterpoint in the morning and another hour on counterpoint and singing in the afternoon, at the end of which she began to be able to accompany from the score, and could accompany in most situations ‘with ease and certainty’.31) George had made just as much progress in declamation as Caroline in music. He was no longer self-conscious, his voice was stronger, his gesticulation natural and full of grace. This boded well for the future, Margaret wrote, thinking of a future parliamentary career.32 Both children were able to give an explication of all the etchings of Roman history and had made great strides in ancient and modern geography. Their geography text, Édmé Mentelle’s Géographie comparée (1778–84), was dedicated to Genlis.33 In order to exercise further their skills in speaking naturally and confidently the children had performed three of Genlis’s plays from her Théâtre à l’usage des jeunes personnes (1779–80). The work had been translated into English as Theatre of Education in 1781, but Margaret used the French edition. It is surprising that Sarah Trimmer, the Christian publisher of the periodical The Guardian of Education (1802–06), should ordain that these plays ‘should never be acted’, 34 thereby negating the very purpose for which they were written. Genlis held that play-acting had multiple benefits.

58  The education journal It exercised the memory, improved children’s diction and taught them to move gracefully and lose their shyness, 35 the same attribute which Trimmer thought children should retain. Since the plays all had a moral intent, by acting them out the children were also reinforcing virtuous conduct. It is in this progress report that we find a good example of what Genlis called writing examples, that is, of having the pupil copy out lines of the work they were reading. In the list of books read by Adèle at the end of Adèle et Théodore Genlis entered the following note: ‘au lieu de la triste ligne d’exemple, on lui donnoit une page entière à copier, et chaque jour une page nouvelle’ (instead of a mere line, she was given a whole page to copy out, and each day another page). The first whole work that Adèle (then aged eight) copied out in this way was a child’s biblical history, Claude Fleury’s Catéchisme historique (1683) and it took her six months(!)36 Margaret adopted the same practice but chose a more amusing subject. When the twins were eight she had them write out the whole of what seems to have been an earlier edition of Augustin Legrand’s attractive 1801 edition of Æsop’s Fables for children, in which each one-page fable was illustrated by an engraving on the facing page.37 The book was ninety-nine pages long, including illustrations, so the twins would have copied out about forty-nine pages. At the age of nine they copied out the first three books of Le Ragois’s abridged version of Ovid’s Metamorphoses for children, 38 which was also on Adèle’s reading list at the age of nine.39 What is surprising to today’s reader is that not only did the children copy out hundreds of pages of French, but they got it all by heart.40 Adèle, too, learned this way: at the age of eleven she supposedly knew by heart Genlis’s entire Annales de la vertu.41 Progressive eighteenth-century education writers warned against rote learning, and Margaret agreed, as far as learning to reason was concerned. However, here she seems to have been addressing different skills: speaking fluently and confidently, especially in French, while at the same time absorbing useful subject matter. George’s oratorial skills were honed by his learning by heart several speeches and pieces of poetry. He had also made appreciable progress in drawing and in mathematics had mastered compound multiplication and division and had progressed in ‘the rule of three’ (a mathematical rule that allows problem solving based on proportions). Caroline was slightly behind George in these attainments because of the time she devoted to music. In her list of books read in 1801, Margaret differentiates between the books the children read themselves under her guidance, and those that she read aloud to them. The first group is headed by volume three of Genlis’s Annales de la vertu, a history of the world for children, from which all the horrific bits have been expunged.42 Another work in the first group was one small volume of Jean-Baptiste Rousseau’s Odes (1712),43 from which Margaret selected some to be learned by heart. Being a musician, Margaret’s attention may have been drawn to a remark in Adèle et Théodore that the merit in J.-B. Rousseau’s poetry lay not so much in its ideas as in its

The education journal  59 harmony,44 making the poems ideal for reciting aloud. The children also read six and a half of the seven volumes of Mentelle’s Géographie with maps, also on Adèle’s list.45 Two of the key works in the first group are Louise-Florence de La Live d’Épinay’s Conversations d’Émilie (1774, augmented 1782) and MarieÉlisabeth de La Fite’s Entretiens, drames et contes moraux à l’usage des enfants (1778) both written for children under ten, in order to encourage them to think, using conversation. La Fite’s and Épinay’s rationale was that a child is naturally curious and drawn to conversation, and that this can easily be exploited in order to instruct. Genlis, too, endorsed familiar conversation as a teaching tool. La Fite’s work appeared on Genlis’s reading list for Adèle with a glowing recommendation46 and both the above works were read by Adèle and the Chinnery children at the age of seven. They were clearly esteemed by Margaret, since she had the children read both works in their entirety, twice. (Re-reading was a practice recommended by Locke and Genlis, who wrote that it was ‘impossible to gain the slightest benefit from reading [books] only once’.47) Margaret found conversation an effective teaching tool, and continued to use it when the children were older, shown by her choice of Jeremiah Joyce’s Scientific Dialogues (1800) to teach George the first principles of natural and experimental philosophy by means of ‘familiar and easy’48 dialogues in a style reminiscent of Genlis. In his preface Joyce endorses the principle of teaching by familiar conversation by paying tribute to the Edgeworths’s Practical Education, even quoting from it on his title page: ‘Conversation, with the habit of explaining the meaning of words […], is the sure and effectual method of preparing the mind for the acquirement of science’.49 Conversation had been allotted an after-dinner slot on Margaret’s plan de journée of 1801 and was a regular feature of the children’s evening occupations thereafter. As the twins grew older Margaret taught conversation as part of sociability, and expected them to be able to conduct a sensible conversation, firstly at the dinner table with family members, and then with any houseguests who happened to be at Gillwell. Margaret was an experienced hostess, who encouraged gay but sensible conviviality at table. Convivial dinner-table conversation was strikingly absent at Oxford, and was what George missed most when he was a freshman at Christ Church College in 1808. He wrote to his mother that dinner in the Hall was the most unsociable thing you can conceive […] there was no conversation; not a word was said to any body, except to the waiters. Oh! How I then thought with regret of our comfortable, friendly and social dinners at Gillwell!!50 Conversation was an art which needed practice, and Margaret constantly corrected her children when they participated too little, too much, or with insufficient decorum in dinner-table conversation. One of the points in her

60  The education journal list of instructions to the French governess was that during walks and recreation time she should accustom the children (then thirteen years old) to speaking freely, but politely and sensibly. She believed that since Mamselle Virginie possessed this skill, ‘and since there is none more agreeable or more elegant’, she hoped that the governess would be able to give the children a taste for it. Speaking frivolously or commenting on people’s physical appearance was strictly prohibited: this was gossip, not conversation.51 The second group of books listed in Margaret’s 1801 progress report are ones that Margaret read to the children in the evening after a full day of close study, for their amusement, but also for their moral and religious instruction. They include three of the four volumes of Genlis’s Veillées du château (Tales of the Castle), a collection of tales read to children by their mother in the family’s Burgundian castle in winter, 52 and one of the two-volume French translation of Joachim Campe’s Nouveau Robinson (1785). A radical reworking of Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, this book was also a collection of tales read to children, in this case by their father-educator. The two books have a common design and purpose. Both use the conceit of a story within a story, and both aim to instruct. The Chinnery family’s own situation mirrored the story of the parent-educator reading to the children around a fire. Margaret’s self-conscious imitation of these two parent-educators is deliberate. The children are induced to imagine that their own circumstances are the same as the ones depicted in the works of fiction, thereby giving greater impact to the moral message. Also on Margaret’s evening reading list are selections from two volumes of plays by Genlis (unidentified, but almost certainly the same ones that Adèle read at the same age, namely Agar dans le désert, Les Flacons, La Colombe, L’Enfant gâté and L’Aveugle de Spa, all from the first and second volume of Genlis’s Théâtre), one volume of Genlis’s Herbier moral (1801), a collection of fables and other poetry, and one volume of ‘Mrs Trimmer’s explanation of the Church Catechism’.53 Like Watts, Trimmer stresses that each catechism should be learned by ‘weighing and considering every part of it’, not by rote.54 The last item on this list of evening readings is voluminous: a twenty-three-volume ‘abridged’ version by Jean-François de La Harpe of the Abbé Prévost’s ambitious histo-geographical Histoire générale des voyages (1780–86). These were illustrated books of voyages of discovery covering most parts of the world and containing maps and information about the countries that the travellers visit, such as their customs, mores, religion, their arts and sciences, trades and manufactures. Margaret read aloud three and a half volumes only, but she may have dipped into the work occasionally to supplement her other geography lessons. The most striking aspect of these two lists of works is that, except for Trimmer’s explanation of the catechism, they were all in French, and were all on Genlis’s reading list for Adèle. Right at the end of Margaret’s 1801 progress report is the remark that she also read to the children almost one complete volume of her own notes on Roman history. In Watts’s

The education journal  61 Improvement of the Mind, of which Margaret owned a copy, in the chapter entitled ‘Methods of Teaching and Reading Lectures’, he writes, ‘the most excellent way of instructing students in any of the sciences is by reading lectures, as tutors in the academy do to their pupils’. The tutor must choose a well-written book, and if he cannot find such a book, he ‘should draw up an abstract of that science himself’. 55 Clearly Margaret could not find a book on Roman history that was suitable for ten-yearolds, and so compiled summaries from her own readings. If the children’s routine was punishing, hers was no less so. As she explained later to her son at Oxford, she rose two hours before her maid each morning (this would have been at about 4.00am in summer) ‘and sat down quietly in my room to write the extracts and make all the necessary preparations for the education then going on’. 56 Each year on their birthday the children were called into Margaret’s study after breakfast to read her reports and to review their progress. Margaret was a believer in rewards for good behaviour and punishment for bad. Caroline’s punishments usually consisted of taking meals in her room, but sometimes, as here, Margaret withheld a token of her affection until the behaviour improved. Together we reviewed the conduct and improvements of each; this furnished matter for a long conversation. I pointed out what I wished were otherwise, what I approved and what I condemned in both. The review was so favourable to George that I put him in possession of his watch, of which I have long been the guardian. Caroline could not justly receive hers, at least she had not the same title to it; but I gave her a small locket, with a promise that as soon as she became more candid, and adhered more strictly to truth, I would put some of my hair in the locket. She shed many tears, and seemed deeply penetrated; but she shared her brother’s pleasure with the most lively feeling, which in such a situation was an indisputable proof of goodness of heart.57 Margaret also describes in her Journal the birthday celebrations themselves. These were occasions for the Chinnerys to throw a large party, to which friends, neighbours and servants were invited. The poet William Sotheby, who was lord of the manor of Sewardstone, in which Gillwell was situated, lived with his family at Fair Mead Lodge in Epping Forest,58 and was a regular invitee. He and his family habitually arrived just after Margaret’s tête-à-tête with her children and stayed the whole day. As privileged land holders in the manor of Sewardstone, the Chinnerys were conscious of their duty to dispense charity to the tenant farmers living around them. In an act of charity reminiscent of Hannah More’s Mendip Feasts, 59 but without the religious strings attached, Margaret fed and entertained a clutch of poor children from the neighbourhood. They were welcomed at the lodge gate, serenaded by a clarinet, a bassoon and a kettle drum, and led to the house.

62  The education journal Fifty-three poor children dined with us on the lawn; they assembled at the lodge [gate] and were there met by our own little ones, some of our servants, the three musicians etc, etc and they were conducted to the house, the music playing. All the time they dined, the music played. In the evening our children, our friends, and most of the servants danced country dances for an hour before the fireworks; and when they were over the dance was renewed. After the children retired we went to a distant room to supper, and the servants with their visitors kept it up till two o’clock in the morning.60

Walter If George was a diligent, biddable and interested pupil, whom the English Review might have called a child who was ‘as two to a million’,61 his younger brother Walter was another character altogether. Margaret’s journal entry on Walter’s ninth birthday begins with the words ‘Walter is grown a most troublesome boy to manage’.62 A long list of complaints about his unruly behaviour follows, ending with almost a cry of despair that she might never be able to govern him. The submission of the pupil to the will of the educator underlay Genlis’s whole education plan, and Adèle et Théodore has been criticised for not containing any advice on how to deal with recalcitrant children.63 Margaret did the best she could with Walter, but we will never know whether she would have been successful in the long run because his life was cut short. However, even at the age of eight Walter excelled in speaking and acting, Margaret had to concede. He had got by heart several sacred odes of J.-B. Rousseau and had taken a small role in Genlis’s La Colombe and a more important role in Louis de Carmontelle’s L’Enragé de Mme Thomas. This last came from Carmontelle’s best-selling collection of Proverbes dramatiques,64 which were all the rage in eighteenth-century French society at the time when both Carmontelle and Genlis were at the Orléans court. Genlis herself acted and danced in them.65 Being short plays that demonstrated a proverb, they conveyed a lesson, and so were suitable as a teaching tool, although it is unlikely that any other English families made use of them in this way. It was probably Viotti, who had been accepted into French high society in the decade preceding the Revolution, who introduced them to Margaret. Walter also got by heart some pieces of poetry from the Unitarian minister William Enfield’s Speaker (1774), an enormously popular work in Britain in the last two decades of the eighteenth century. It included an ‘Essay on Elocution’, which opens with the words, ‘Much declamation has been employed to convince the world of a very plain truth, that to be able to speak well is an ornamental and useful accomplishment’.66 It is clear from Margaret’s Journal and from her Oxford correspondence, that she agreed with him. Clearly, Walter did not misbehave when he was play-acting, an activity which he enjoyed. The reason for his disruptiveness in other lessons and

The education journal  63 activities was probably that he was frustrated in his attempts to keep up with the twins who were two years older. For example, in January 1802 George and Walter together took their first Latin lesson from the new Waltham Abbey curate, Reverend John Mullens. George was nearly ten and a half, Walter not yet nine. George had been well prepared in the study of grammar beforehand, but the only grammatical preparation Margaret had been able to give Walter ‘was in reading through my little dialogues on grammar’.67 Margaret admits that that was a mistake. There were other areas in which Walter was disadvantaged because of the difficulty Margaret faced in managing the education of children of various ages. He had improved but little in geography for this was a lesson he took with Mamselle, who could not govern him. Nor had he made much progress in chronology for the same reason.68 Another cause for concern was Walter’s English. He spoke French and Italian more correctly than his native tongue, which was dotted with foreign idioms. Margaret knew that this was because he was mostly in the care of Viotti. It was not from choice that I have hitherto suffered him to make a greater progress in the foreign languages than in his own, but from necessity. Amico could correct his exercises in French, which assistance left me more time to bestow on the older children. The difference in age occasions great additional trouble, and requires separate and different lessons.69 This seems to have been the only crack in Margaret’s otherwise flawless education plan. When the two little girls joined her education programme the age differences among the children forced her to employ a second French governess. Margaret’s high standards suffered when she was ill from January to April 1802. During this period Viotti took over the lessons, omitting the evening readings, and Reverend John Mullens continued the boys’ bi-weekly Latin lessons. The first journal entry after Margaret’s recovery records that the children were ‘without application and completely estranged from that methodical disposition of their time, to which they had been habituated’. In the absence of a strong disciplinarian, it seemed, Margaret’s programme suffered. Viotti, who loved the children as his own, was too soft-hearted to enforce discipline like Margaret. What Margaret found on her return to duties was a habitually diligent George, the same ‘giddy and thoughtless’ Caroline, a Walter who was ‘troublesome and ill-behaved’ as usual and a ‘tolerable’ Maria.70 If Margaret’s weekdays adhered to an almost Spartan regime, her weekends were another matter altogether, almost completely devoted to guests and musical entertainments. Margaret often had so many houseguests that she was obliged to shuffle the beds. Education continued regardless. If there were children of their own age present, the twins were expected to attend to their lessons, or if it was a Sunday, to their devotions, before going to play

64 The education journal with them. No deviation from the timetable was permitted when company was present. If George and Caroline were occasionally allowed to stay up later than usual, they were nevertheless expected to go to bed unprompted at the appointed time: ‘When I am engaged with company I cannot attend to such trifling circumstances’, Margaret told them. ‘It will be impossible during the course of their education to permit them to join in society at all, unless they will resolutely determine to keep their own regular hours, and not be interrupted by what is going on’, for ‘if they give way to the smallest irregularity there will be an end of order, and consequently of improvement in the various studies’. ‘If it was otherwise’, Margaret threatened, ‘I must either renounce all society or send my children to school’.71 The question of whether to educate children at home or at school was widely debated in the last decades of the eighteenth century, and, according to Michèle Cohen, by the end of the century school education had become associated with masculinity, and home education with femininity.72 However, there must have been a certain percentage of boys still receiving a home education, for when George started at Oxford (1808) the first question the dean of Christ Church asked him was whether he had studied at home or at school.73 Margaret was up to date with all the arguments, from Locke, who recommended a home education (for boys and girls) for the sake of virtue, to Vicesimus Knox, who recommended a school education (for boys) for the same reason. However, she had early decided to follow Genlis in this matter, even though many of her friends, including the Grenfells, had decided to send their boys to school, while educating their girls at home. The fact that Margaret held the prospect of school over her children’s heads as a deterrent to misbehaviour would indicate that she herself thought poorly of a school education and, moreover, had painted a grim picture of it to George and Caroline. As for renouncing all society, Margaret had invested too much in the making of connections for the benefit of her children to throw this away. In the end her organisational skills and her force of character were such that she was able to manage education and company simultaneously.

Notes 1 It has been paginated by an archivist, and because Margaret’s system of dating is confusing, page numbers will always be cited. 2 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1803, p. 2. 3 Genlis, Leçons d’une gouvernante, I, 7. 4 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1803, pp. 4–5. 5 In May 1801 he reported to Margaret (in French), ‘Everything went well yesterday, dear Amica. I read the journal in all its detail aloud at breakfast, and all was good and satisfactory. I expect today’s to be just as good’ (GBV to MC, 20 May 1801, PHM 94/143/1–2/25). 6 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 20 November 1804, p. 75. 7 See Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, pp. 42–57.

The education journal 65 8 MC’s Journal, Book 2, pp. 126–28, in French. Margaret writes in continuous prose. For clarity it is set out here in time slots. 9 In Margaret’s study hung large maps of the city of Rome, of England, Essex, Europe, Asia, Africa and America, each in its mahogany spring case (Catalogue of the […] household furniture […] of W. Chinnery Esq, p. 31). 10 The long wide passage where the children exercised in inclement weather ran across the back of the house, connecting the servants’ work areas. 11 An A. Celli exhibited at the British Institution between 1808 and 1812 (Bénézit, II, 617). 12 Francesco Bianchi (1752–1810), Italian opera composer, who came to London in 1793 to work at the King’s Theatre, Haymarket. 13 Locke, Concerning Education, p. 2. 14 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 22 April 1802, p. 146. 15 Genlis, Leçons d’une gouvernante, II, 510–31. 16 Ibid., p. 511. 17 Ibid., p. 531. 18 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1803, p. 5. By 1803 George was her only remaining male child. 19 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 81. See also MC’s letter to her cousin on the subject in Yim, ‘A British Child’s Music Education’, pp. 29–30. 20 The boast was apparently well founded. See Yim, ‘A British Child’s Music Education’, p. 32. 21 Catalogue of the […] household furniture […] of W. Chinnery Esq, p. 35. 22 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1801, p. 141. 23 John Carr to MC, 25 September 1797, Fisher 2000–1/1. 24 In 1793 he received £18 a year from a charity for the relief of poor clergymen. In 1800 six of his children also figured on its lists (State of the Charity, 1793 and 1800, both unpaginated). 25 Essex Record Office, Waltham Holy Cross (Waltham Abbey), Register of baptisms, D/P 75/1/8. 26 The Times, 25 September 1800; Farrington, p. 121. 27 She is named as Martha Philipps of the parish of Shepperton, Middlesex, on her marriage record (Guildhall Library, Copies of marriages at the British Embassy in Paris, 1821). 28 Genlis to MC, 5 September 1807 and 23 October 1807, in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, pp. 114, 117. 29 Genlis to MC, 5 August 1807, in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, pp. 99–101. 30 WRS to MC, 16 December 1807, Fisher 2000–13/1. 31 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 14 October 1801, p. 142. 32 Ibid., 3 September 1801, p. 139. 33 This was an analysis of the ancient and modern geography of peoples of all countries and ages. 34 Guardian of Education, January–August 1803, p. 511. 35 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 238. 36 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 523. The Catéchisme historique contained a short simplified summary of each biblical story, followed by two pages of questions and answers. 37 Margaret referred to it as ‘L’instruction de la fable’. 38 Claude Le Ragois, Instruction sur l’histoire de France et romaine […]. On y a ajouté un Abrégé des Métamorphoses d’Ovide (1778). Margaret referred to this as ‘L’instruction sur les Metamorphoses d’Ovid [sic].’ 39 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 523.

66

The education journal

40 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1801, p. 139. 41 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 524. 42 Genlis, Les Annales de la vertu, pp. 4–5. The first two volumes had presumably been read the previous year. 43 Although referred to by Fénelon in 1712 as ‘the only remaining poet of our century’, Jean-Baptiste Rousseau was forgotten by 1930 (cited in Grubbs, p. 139). 44 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 529n. 45 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1801, p. 139; Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 523. 46 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 522. 47 Ibid., 267. 48 Joyce, I, vii. 49 Edgeworth and Edgeworth, I, 455. Joyce also covertly advertises Aikin’s and Barbauld’s Evenings at Home by mentioning it twice in the first three pages. 50 GRC to MC, 16 January 1808, Ch.Ch. 51 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 27 June 1804, p. 135. 52 The book was highly praised by the translator, who called the tales ‘enchanting lessons’ which drew ‘the most amiable, and therefore the most just, pictures of virtue’ (second page of the Advertisement, unpaginated). 53 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1801, p. 140. 54 Trimmer, An Attempt to Familiarize, Dedicatory letter. 55 Watts, Improvement of the Mind, p. 237. 56 MC to GRC, 4 May 1809, Ch.Ch. 57 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1801, pp. 141–42. 58 Visits were exchanged regularly between Fair Mead Lodge and Gillwell and there is correspondence as late as 1833, attesting to a long friendship between the two families. 59 The first Mendip Feast was held in 1791 (Wharton, pp. 123–24). 60 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1801, p. 141. 61 The reviewer of the translation of Genlis’s education novel maintained that most children were not perfectly amenable like Adelaide and Theodore and that therefore Genlis’s system was unworkable (English Review, July 1783, pp. 106–07). 62 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 22 April 1802, p. 143. 63 Le Mercure de France, April 1782, p. 67. 64 Margaret owned the six-volume set (lot 40 on the Christie sale catalogue). L’Enragé de Mme Thomas is from volume one. 65 Genlis describes them in her Mémoires, I, 297, 333. 66 Enfield, p. v. 67 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 22 April 1802, p. 145. 68 The book Margaret initially used to teach chronology appears to have been Le Ray’s Époques (1797). Starting with the Creation, it divides history into twenty simplified epochs, nine for ancient and eleven for modern. 69 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 22 April 1802, p. 144. 70 Ibid., 4 May 1802, p. 143. 71 MC’s Journal, Book 2, pp. 32, 35, 77–78. 72 Cohen, ‘Gender and “Method”’, p. 588. 73 GRC to MC, 15 January 1808, Ch.Ch.

4

Paris during the Peace

England had been at war with France for nine years when Napoleon sued for peace after his defeat by the British in Egypt in 1801. The Peace of Amiens lasted from March 1802 till May 1803, and during this time 10,000 English visited Paris to see what the Revolution had done to the city and to catch a glimpse of the dictator, now styled first consul. Margaret wanted to make the voyage, so in August 1802 the whole family set off for France for two months. On 29 July William had applied to the French embassy in London for passports for his family party: Margaret, himself, Viotti, four children, Margaret’s personal maid, one French governess and a courier.1 The two little girls were deemed too young to benefit from the visit, and were lodged in London with a French émigrée Mrs St Aubin, whose husband would be the family’s courier. 2 Margaret’s aim in visiting Paris at this portentous moment in history was threefold. First, as a Francophile, she was curious to visit the sights and meet the inhabitants of a city which was renowned in all of Europe for being a centre of culture. Second, she wished her children to see all that she would see, and have their minds broadened by it. Third, and perhaps most importantly, she intended to try to obtain an audience with her mentor Madame de Genlis, and have her children meet her too. Viotti, whose music Genlis knew and admired, would be her presenter. Since Viotti had had entrée into some of the most famous salons in Paris during the ancien régime he was also able to introduce her to many members of the enlightened ancienne noblesse, men and women of learning and culture, as well as professional and amateur musicians. Of the many English visitors to Paris at this time, some kept records of their experiences, which were subsequently published. Except for a couple of brief references to the visit in her education journal Margaret unfortunately did not record her impressions. But she did make sure she kept safe her precious correspondence of these months with Genlis, whom she sought out shortly after her arrival. 3 What most English had heard before their arrival turned out to be true, namely that the French were ‘about a century behind us in the common conveniences of life’.4 Unlike London, Paris did not have any system of sanitation 5 and outbreaks of serious

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-5

68  Paris during the Peace epidemics were common, as the Chinnerys would find to their cost. The Chinnery party lodged at the Hôtel de l’Empire in the rue Cerutti, just behind the Chaussée d’Antin, where the streets were wider, the air cleaner and the neighbourhood more salubrious. During the Peace, hotel lodgings were hard to find, and all were expensive, the Hôtel de l’Empire especially so. It was one of the rare luxurious lodgings to be had in the city and was the exclusive resort of the English upper classes. Margaret was therefore able to settle her family into an elegantly appointed suite of apartments. A piano was her first requisite. Her second was a French master for her children. The sojourn in Paris was an opportunity for the children to perfect their French. Margaret employed a certain Maître Bataillard, who gave the children daily lessons, making them read, recite verses and take dictation. Walter had an advantage over the others, having had Viotti as his teacher for most of his childhood, but the others soon caught up, exceeding her expectations: ‘they even speak the language like French people and write it very correctly’.6 There were many activities to occupy foreign visitors in Paris, and Margaret took the children with her wherever she went, aiming to make their various excursions opportunities for learning, as recommended by Genlis. There were instructive excursions to places such as the Grand National Library, the Mint, the Gobelins manufacture, the Botanic Gardens with its zoo and to the gallery of the great painter Jacques Louis David situated in a corner wing of the Tuileries palace.7 The highlight of all the sights in Paris was the new museum of art, the Louvre, open to foreigners and artists free of charge every day of the year, but in a bizarre slight to its own citizens, to the French public only once or twice a week.8 This was a novelty for an Englishman, for London had yet to acquire its first public gallery of paintings. If one wished to see good collections of art in London one had to apply for permission to visit private ones. The Chinnery children were taken to the Louvre almost every day by Margaret or by their drawing master, where, like the British artists, they sometimes copied the masterpieces. Margaret’s history and mythology lessons stood the children in good stead when it came to appreciating the pieces that were on display. English artist friends whom they met at the Louvre (among them Joseph Farington9) were astonished at the children’s understanding of the paintings, statues and the ancient engraved stones: they could make sensible remarks on all that they saw. In preparation for these visits Margaret had the French master read to them from the French translation of Raphael Mengs’s celebrated essay ‘Reflections upon beauty and taste in painting’, after which, Margaret wrote in her Journal, the children viewed the paintings through different eyes.10 Again, it was taste that Margaret was aiming to instil in her children. Among the city’s most affecting sights, which Margaret made sure she did not miss, were the public exhibitions given by the Abbé Sicard at his School for the Deaf and Dumb in the rue St Jacques.11 On the mornings

Paris during the Peace  69 of the exhibition the streets to the school were lined with carriages, and the room filled to capacity with genteel company, usually foreign. Here the remarkable Abbé gave a three-hour lecture and demonstration, in which he explained his method of teaching deaf mutes. It was the reverse of the usual way of proceeding: he first taught his pupils to think, then to express what they thought. Too often, Margaret knew, children were taught by rote, without learning to think for themselves. She would use the method in her lessons at Gillwell to demonstrate subtle differences in word meanings, such as between simplicité (simplicity) and ingénuité (ingenuousness). In the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences (Powerhouse Museum) Chinnery collection in Sydney there survive some examples taken from the catechistic routine that the deaf mutes demonstrated for their visitors. In a hand that looks to be Caroline’s is written (in French) the question, ‘What is the difference between simplicity and ingenuousness?’ Answer: ‘Simplicity is lack of spite, innocence, pious childhood. Ingenuousness is the opening of the heart candidly, without artifice or hypocrisy’.12 It is significant that Sicard chose as one of his examples that most highly regarded eighteenth-century virtue, simplicity, which was lauded by all educators, from the Ancients to the Moderns. Using Sicard’s method, Margaret was able to show the children the importance of what she considered to be the key to effective communication in any language, the definition of terms. Margaret attached great importance to clear thinking, speaking and writing. Later, when George was at Oxford, she would refer him to Locke’s Essay Concerning Human Understanding. ‘Locke’, she told him, ‘attaches the highest importance to the definition of terms, and so do I’.13 The structure of Paris society was now quite different from the way it had been before the Revolution, much to the chagrin of the ancienne noblesse, who, like Genlis, deplored the lowering of standards in the language and mores of the consulate.14 As one English visitor explained it, there were now three distinct ‘sets’ in society: the ancienne noblesse, select members of which Bonaparte cultivated to lend decorum to his court, the ‘government class’, that is, ministers, counsellors of state, ambassadors, senators, legislators, members of the military and so on, and thirdly, les parvenus otherwise known as les nouveaux riches.15 It was the second set that Margaret and her two consorts regularly frequented. At the ministerial parties Bonaparte’s generals were clad in richly embroidered blue uniforms with tricoloured sashes. As for the women’s dress, all the English, as well as some of the returning French émigrés, were scandalised. The diaphanous gowns of muslin à l’antique revealed more of the female body than they covered, and clung to the body in a way that ‘left nothing to the powers of fancy’, according to one English witness.16 Margaret’s friend the author John Carr was also in Paris at this time, recording all his experiences for the edification of the English who had stayed at home, as well as giving advice to those who had not, in what would become in 1803 his bestselling travel book The Stranger in France.

70  Paris during the Peace (He would dedicate the 1807 edition to Margaret.) He too was shocked by the Frenchwomen’s dress, and his ‘Impromptu to Madame C——, written at Paris, upon her appearing equally modestly and elegantly dressed, amidst the semi-nakedness of the rest of the female fashionables’, was almost certainly addressed to Margaret: Whilst, in a dress that one might swear The whole was made of woven air, Pert Fashion spreads her senseless sway Over the giddy and the gay (Who think, by showing all their charms, Lovers will fly into their arms), In thee shall Wit and Virtue find A friend more genial to their mind; And Modesty shall gain in thee A surer, chaster, victory.17 The above poem reveals Carr to be indulging in what Barbara Taylor calls ‘enlightened British gallantry’, that is, the affirmation of British female virtue by contrasting ‘Gallic lascivious gallantry to its own native code of female modesty’,18 such as David Hume promoted in his essay ‘Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences’. Like Hume, Margaret believed that gallantry was ‘as generous as it is natural’19 within sociable discourse among civilised men and women, but that Gallic gallantry, such as it was exhibited during the ancien régime and during the consulate, was degenerate. The moral of the poem was that virtue would triumph over licentiousness, and also that virtue and wisdom (‘wit’) were synonymous, as posited by the Ancients, and then by the early modern moral philosophers such as Montaigne, Charron and Locke. Margaret’s assemblies at the Hôtel de l’Empire took advantage of Viotti’s considerable acquaintance in musical circles. His undiminished reputation as a performer, composer and ‘father’ of the French school of violin playing meant that all his former pupils, disciples, friends and colleagues flocked to see him, especially as his arrival with the Chinnerys was reported by the Paris-based correspondent of a German music newspaper. 20 Within twelve days of arriving in Paris Margaret had begun to receive company in her hotel apartments and to give private concerts. Nevertheless, the children’s lessons continued. Her matinées musicales took place before dinner, which in Paris was at five or six o’clock, and were opportunities for the children to listen attentively to music of a high quality, which would help form their taste. Although many of her musicians were employed in the first consul’s orchestra, Margaret did not discriminate against them, or indeed against any other guests who were Bonaparte supporters, thereby teaching her children liberality by example.

Paris during the Peace  71

Madame de Genlis Before commencing her regular assemblies at the Hôtel de l’Empire Margaret had already sought out her idol Madame de Genlis. The infamous reputation that the author had acquired as a sympathiser of the Revolution and a supporter (and mistress) of the regicide duc d’Orléans did not prevent Margaret from wishing to know her. The surviving correspondence of some thirty-five letters between the two women, of which twenty-one are from this period, traces the beginnings of their friendship. It was Margaret who opened the correspondence, composing her first letter (unfortunately missing) with care, emphasising her interest in education, her admiration for the author’s works, and taking care to mention the name Viotti, aware that Genlis’s interest in music would ensure that she took notice of the unsolicited communication. She did. Madame de Genlis had only two years before returned to Paris, penniless and unpopular, after an eight-year emigration, during which she was ostracised by the other aristocratic émigrés for her Orleanist sympathies. Margaret’s first meeting with Genlis was surely one of those that the author’s friend the journalist Joseph Fiévée had in mind when he wrote of the throng of young English mothers who arrived at her door with their children in tow. ‘How real was her emotion when these pretty young creatures came and threw themselves into her arms, gazing wide-eyed at the lady about whom they had heard so much, and who now deigned to bestow her blessings upon them!’21 Fiévée’s testimony is significant for two reasons. First, it makes clear that, just as the admittance of the English upper classes into French society was taken for granted in spite of the strained relations between the two nations at the time, so it was perfectly normal for upper class Englishwomen to be admitted into private homes, the upper classes having more in common by dint of their class than their nationality. Second, it shows that these mothers knew and admired Genlis’s education works that had been translated into English before 1802. One of Genlis’s bestselling works in England was The Beauties of Genlis (1787), 22 a miscellany which included Tales of the Castle, Theatre of Education, Sacred Dramas and excerpts from Adelaide and Theodore (the inserted stories, not the education components), giving an indication of which of her writings were most widely read. While it seems likely that the mothers who visited Genlis during the Peace had read her moral tales and dialogues to their children, it seems less likely, given that they were all from the upper classes, that they were prepared to sequester themselves from the world to become the mother-educator described in Adelaide and Theodore. Most of their meetings were probably once only, whereas Margaret’s was a relationship with the author that would last almost a lifetime. By the end of August several visits had been exchanged, during which Genlis got to know the whole Chinnery family. Within a few weeks Genlis was addressing Margaret as her

72  Paris during the Peace daughter and ending her letters with ‘a maternal embrace’. 23 (Margaret was the same age as the author’s own daughter Pulchérie.) For a while Genlis became for Margaret the mother she had never had. The younger woman happily fell into her role, assuming an air of filial devotion and asking permission to embrace her mentor in turn. Margaret and Genlis had much in common. Apart from their shared interest in education, both were proficient musicians, Margaret on the piano and Genlis on the harp. Both had lost a parent in childhood, and as a result both were autodidacts. Genlis was clearly smitten by Margaret and intrigued by her children, who were being brought up according to her own education plan. Genlis’s adopted son Casimir Baecker, who was almost the same age as George, was receiving only haphazard tuition from his harried mother, but he was beginning to display promising talent on the harp. Casimir and George were encouraged to exchange letters. Margaret feared that George’s would be noticeably inferior to Casimir’s, ‘who had the good fortune to be raised by the best teacher ever’.24 In fact the reverse was true, for Casimir’s education had been much neglected. Naturally enough, education was an important topic of the two women’s conversations, in the course of which other education writers were discussed. The first was Elizabeth Hamilton, whose two-volume Letters on the Elementary Principles of Education (1801–02) had just been published in England. Treading carefully, Margaret mentioned that there was a ‘slight criticism’ of Genlis in Hamilton’s work.25 Hamilton had recommended that women be taught to exercise their faculty of reason rather than emulate the ‘blind and implicit obedience’26 of Genlis’s character Adèle. This was an objection made by many other English educationists, both supporters and detractors of Genlis, including Mary Wollstonecraft, Catharine Macaulay, Hannah More and Clara Reeve. Genlis’s reply was: I have only been able to read half of the first volume of Miss Hamilton’s work and I am delighted with it. It was enough for me to be able to tell that she is a fine author with truly superior talent. Whether she criticises me or not will not change this opinion. Generally speaking, none of my peers writing about education considers me in a favourable light except, however, for two justly renowned foreigners, the late Mrs Macaulay and Mr Campe. For my part, I like to praise all teachers, provided that they are not irreligious. I have friendly feelings towards them, as I have constantly shown in my works. Miss Hamilton’s work has not been translated here, nor is it known. I shall publish an extract from it, to which I shall add my honest, heartfelt praise. 27 It is not known if Genlis ever published the promised extract. Pointing out that Hamilton’s work was unknown in France makes her praise something of a back-handed compliment. Yet, sensitive as Genlis may have been about her own critics, she nevertheless prided herself on being

Paris during the Peace  73 even-handed with them. For example, she recommended selected works of her ‘enemies’ Rousseau and Voltaire in her reading lists at the back of Adèle et Théodore. As mentioned earlier, Macaulay’s Letters on Education is liberally sprinkled with praise of Genlis, whom she classes, along with Rousseau, as one of the geniuses among education writers. 28 For his part, Joachim Campe made the flattering gesture of dedicating to Genlis his Kleine Selenlehre für Kinder (1780), translated into French in 1783, and into English in 1792. The dedication, in rhyme, portrays Genlis as a font of wisdom, rising above the generality of society to inculcate youth with virtue and wisdom (yet another iteration of the synonymity of the two): ‘And, while the varying fashions triflers blind, | ’Tis yours to cultivate, and raise the mind, | With virtue to inspirit ductile youth, | And stamp the judgement with the seal of truth’. 29 One other British education writer, whose work Margaret had read, but who was not discussed in this particular conversation with Genlis, was Maria Edgeworth. Like Margaret, Edgeworth was eager to meet Genlis, and with her father, Richard Lovell Edgeworth, visited Genlis shortly after Margaret. Although her father made allowances for Genlis’s reduced circumstances, Edgeworth herself disliked her. Both Edgeworth and her father noticed Genlis’s extreme sensitivity to criticism. 30 When Genlis first visited Margaret in her beautifully appointed apartments she was impressed by the well-regulated domestic scene that greeted her. She wrote, ‘I left your hotel yesterday charmed and touched beyond expression. To see you in the midst of your family is an inspiration to the heart and mind. Merely to contemplate such a tableau is to become good’.31 Margaret’s tightly-run household and education programme was striking, even to Genlis’s eyes, as a model of order and harmony. Genlis’s own abode was in stark contrast to Margaret’s. The chaotic state of the apartment must have taken Margaret aback on her first visit. It was in the Arsenal, a now shabby building down by the river, with a dark internal staircase, making the second-floor dwelling difficult to find. The apartment had been given to her by Bonaparte when she returned to Paris. The young playwright and librettist from Dijon, Charles Brifaut, was shocked when he saw it. He had expected a tasteful establishment, but instead, found the great lady ‘in the midst of the most abominable mess, with tatty old pieces of furniture strewn about’. Curiously, he said, visitors were not deterred by this. Foreigners, provincials and Parisians alike all came in turn to sit around her modest hearth.32 Margaret, who met Brifaut during her stay in Paris, was one of those admiring foreigners. What must she, who took her daughter to task for the slightest lapse – a glove left lying on a table, a shoe on the floor – have made of this? By the age of twelve Caroline was expected to have acquired a habit of order: ‘a careless slovenly female is disgusting to every one. It is always expected that a young lady’s room should be elegantly neat, and that the disposition of every article in it should indicate order

74  Paris during the Peace and propriety’, chastised Margaret.33 Genlis explained to Margaret that her disordered life was caused by her frenetic work pace. Since early 1801 she had been contributing a short story every month, sometimes more than one a month, to the Parisian publisher Maradan’s periodical the Nouvelle Bibliothèque des romans, whose sales soared as a result.34 Margaret was already a subscriber.35 In truth, Margaret probably paid few visits to the Arsenal, preferring either to receive her friend at her own hotel, or to accompany her into society, for, having formed an attachment for Margaret, Genlis took her on visits to family and friends. Her aunt and daughter were at the centre of Bonaparte’s most intimate coterie and were two of Josephine’s closest confidantes and advisors on court protocol.36 It had been Margaret’s intention to spend only two months in Paris, but ill health detained her for two weeks longer. Viotti and the children remained with her after William’s departure. Genlis was enchanted to be able to spend more time with her ‘ravishing and cherished’ friend: Dear friend, I have lost my heart to you. I think I must be dreaming! Is it possible that I have met so late in life the most interesting person living! I would have liked to have loved you since your childhood. You have made me shed many tears since I have known you. How many memories and feelings you have reawakened in this poor battered and tormented heart, a heart which has so often been disappointed. Good heavens, while I was suffering so much you existed with your heart and your mind […] For fifteen God-forsaken years I have not experienced one moment of true happiness, except for meeting you.37 Genlis’s second last remark shows that she appreciated Margaret’s mind (‘raison’) as much as her good heart. The painful memories alluded to above might have been the recent loss of her husband and her lover to the guillotine, but might equally have harked back to more distant losses of children, and even to the loss of a parent in childhood, a common sadness that bound the two women and explained their determination to get ahead in spite of their early setbacks. Further losses paralleling Genlis’s were to strike Margaret, one sooner than either could suspect. Margaret’s postponed departure meant that she would spend her thirty-sixth birthday in Paris. A birthday in a French eighteenth-century family of rank and culture was an opportunity for a fête domestique. This consisted of the performance of a home-written play, or a dramatic proverb, or a romance (rhyming couplets set to music), in celebration of a family member or friend in which young family members took the leading roles. Under the influence of Viotti, Margaret had already adopted this French practice at Gillwell. Genlis was sent an invitation but was unable to attend. However, she did compose a romance to be sung to Margaret by Caroline.

Paris during the Peace  75 A note in Viotti’s hand scribbled at the top of the piece reveals that the poem was set to music by his friend Luigi Cherubini. Such romances were meant to teach the younger generation filial gratitude, a virtue on which Genlis and Margaret placed much importance. The last stanza emphasises the sense of obligation that children owe their parents: ‘Peace of mind, virtues, glory, talents | We owe everything to our parents’.38 Two more romances that were sung at the fête of 16 October 1802 survive. One was composed by the children’s French master Batailliard, to be sung by Caroline to the tune of ‘Lise chantoit dans la prairie’ (a popular air from a contemporary opera)39 as she handed her mother a bouquet of flowers. The sentiments expressed in these three stanzas are the same as those in the Genlis poem: ‘Accept, dear Mother, our respect and love […] This bouquet is short-lived and will wilt, unlike our hearts which will always remain constant’.40 The other was written by Viotti’s disciple and friend the violinist Pierre Baillot as Madame Cherubini’s tribute to Margaret. Like the children’s songs, it expressed sentiments of love, esteem and in the place of filial devotion, friendship.41 It is clear that in France there were not the same qualms as in Britain about children performing before company. But surely not even Sarah Trimmer could object to the acting out of such virtuous sentiments. To a modern reader these verses may seem a little mawkish, but at the time such feelings were lauded and their expression encouraged. Margaret expected her children to give overt displays of affection to each other. Not to do so bespoke a cold heart. Towards herself, ‘there should be something of awe and veneration, blended with the tenderest affection, that should give to the manner and countenance of a child when addressing its parent an air of respectful deference’.42 She never ceased reminding the children of the gratitude they owed her, their principal educator. Genlis’s romance was not the only gift Margaret received from the pen of her famous friend. She was presented with her latest publication L’Herbier moral, a collection of instructive verses, the first of many works that Margaret would receive from Genlis over the coming years. Before leaving Paris Margaret also received a manuscript copy of the author’s unpublished notes on mythology, compiled expressly for the Chinnery children, which Genlis hastened to have copied by her amanuensis in time for her departure.43 Since mythology was linked to Margaret’s lessons on ancient history, which aided the children’s understanding of the antique sculptures and decorated vases they saw all around them, in Paris and at Gillwell, this gift was highly prized by her. The manuscript, bound in red Moroccan leather and inscribed with the author’s monogram, is the one that Margaret selected to be represented in Vigée Le Brun’s portrait of her, executed at Gillwell in 1803.44 Plans were made for Genlis to come to Gillwell the following summer, but these plans were foiled by the protracted war that was to engulf their two countries after the collapse of the Peace.

76  Paris during the Peace

Death of Walter Walter fell ill on the return journey to England, and Margaret wrote to Genlis from Dover, describing his symptoms. The latter returned her a letter full of advice on how to fortify the child’s chest for the coming winter.45 On arriving home Margaret did not think she had cause to be concerned, and began the task of bringing her education journal up to date, entering the unsuspecting words ‘Another year without illness. Today is 4 November, but since I was in Paris on the children’s birthday I am writing now, on my return, what I should have written then’.46 Margaret noted that since meeting Madame de Genlis, Caroline had become more gentle, more obedient, more polite and more truthful, and that George had become more perfect, if that were possible, in his heart and mind, but both were still a little too brusque in their manner. All three children now spoke three languages, French of course better than Italian.47 Margaret had kept up the children’s study of Roman mythology and had explained to them those fables in Ovid’s Metamorphoses that were not too horrific or salacious, using Le Ragois’s explanations written especially for children. She was halfway through her list of Caroline’s musical achievements when the journal entry was interrupted, and the bottom of the page torn off. Walter’s health had suddenly deteriorated, and Margaret took him back to London to consult a physician. The illness was brief. Walter died on 19 November, one month after the family’s homecoming. The interrupted journal entry takes up again. Now forgotten are Walter’s annoying traits, his pranks on the younger children, his disobedience. Margaret’s fear of God overrode all, and she believed she had been given a warning. ‘By this dreadful stroke God has called me to him. If my life is not pure, if I do not carefully work out my salvation, we shall never be reunited, my child!’48 When Genlis learned of Walter’s death she wrote to Margaret inviting her to unburden herself. Having herself lost a son the same age as Walter, she advised Margaret to go back into society, even to revisit places that had painful associations and, above all, to return immediately to her lessons, none of which Margaret could bring herself to do.49 Walter was buried in Waltham Abbey Church. Margaret had a painful meeting with the curate, Reverend Mullens, who had earlier in the year given Walter his first Latin lesson, to discuss the funeral service and to make arrangements for the burial in a vault under the floor of the church. Walter’s tomb can be seen today in the south aisle of the church, the black marble ledger inscribed with the date of death. Caroline wrote a touching letter to her mother describing how much she missed her little brother. She wished to plant some rose bushes in her garden bed in his memory. She also suggested erecting a column with an inscription.50 Margaret did have a stone memorial raised in the children’s

Paris during the Peace

77

garden at the back of the house, a classical urn bearing Walter’s initials set on a plinth, on which she placed fresh flowers each day. When the older children also fell ill Margaret abandoned all lessons and took them to town for medical attention. Lessons did not resume until April 1803.

Notes 1 Courneuve, Archives diplomatiques, F MAE 151 QO/1. 2 WBC’s Drummonds’ Account, DR/427/172, fol. 803. The courier facilitated the hiring of horses and postilion on arrival, rode ahead to secure accommodation and fresh horses and dealt with mail. 3 The letters are in Rare Book and Special Collections, the University of Sydney Library (Fisher). They have been published in French in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery (2003). 4 Paul, p. 9. 5 Lewis, pp. 97–98. 6 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1802, p. 147. 7 Carr, Stranger in France (1803), p. 101. 8 Lemaistre, pp. 15–16. 9 Diary of Joseph Farington, 1 September 1802, V, 1819. 10 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1802, p. 147. 11 On the Abbé Sicard’s school see Carr, Stranger in France (1803), p. 202, and Lemaistre, pp. 69–73. 12 Miscellaneous [Chinnery] papers, PHM 94/143/1–32/5. 13 Locke, Concerning Human Understanding, II, chapter 2; MC to GRC, 8 March 1811, Ch.Ch. 14 Genlis, Mémoires, V, 91–107. 15 Lemaistre, p. 55. 16 Ibid., p. 94. 17 Carr, Poems, p. 161. 18 Taylor, ‘Feminists versus Gallants’, pp. 128, 132. 19 Hume, I, 137. 20 AMZ, 8 September 1802, col. 815. 21 Fiévée, p. 7. 22 Plagnol-Diéval, p. 48. 23 See Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 68. 24 MC to Genlis (copy), [September 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 66. 25 Ibid. 26 Hamilton, Elementary Principles, II, 365. 27 Genlis to MC, [October 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 67. 28 Macaulay, p. 22. 29 Campe, Elementary Dialogues, p. 2. 30 Colvin, ed., pp. 96−102. 31 Genlis to MC, [September 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 65. 32 Brifaut, I, 120−21. 33 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 12 October 1803, pp. 20–21.

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Paris during the Peace

34 See Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, pp. 37−38. 35 The periodical ran from 1798 to 1804, of which Margaret owned ‘4 years complete’ (Christie sale catalogue, lot 32). 36 Genlis, Mémoires, V, 104. 37 Genlis to MC, [October 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, pp. 75–76. 38 ‘Romance faite pour le jour de naissance de Mme Chinnery’ [16 October 1802], in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 73. Cherubini’s music has just been uncovered in James Paul’s collection. 39 Alexandre Dezède’s Blaise et Babet (1783). 40 Batailliard to GRC, 16 October 1802, PHM 94/143/1–25/1. 41 ‘Couplets chantés par Madame Cherubini à Madame Chinnery’, [16 October 1802], PHM 94/143/1–1/4. 42 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 12 September 1803, p. 11. 43 See Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 71. 44 This three-quarter portrait, oil on canvas, was recently exhibited at the biggest ever retrospective of Le Brun’s work (Paris, Grand Palais, 23 September 2015–11 January 2016). It may be viewed in Baillio and Salmon, eds, p. 299. 45 Genlis to MC, 7 November 1802, in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, pp. 77–78. 46 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1802, p. 146. 47 Ibid., pp. 146–47. 48 Ibid., p. 150. 49 See Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 81. 50 CC to MC, c.November 1802, Fisher 2000–5/1.

5

The Golden Age

When the upheaval of Walter’s death had subsided, education took up again and continued smoothly, following its well-established routine, and the whole operation, George would later remark, moved like clockwork.1 By their twelfth birthday in September 1803 the twins spoke three languages interchangeably. Unlike the method described in Genlis’s novel, in which the young Adèle and Théodore learned foreign languages as opportunity presented itself, by speaking German to the gardener, English to their governess and Italian to their drawing master, Margaret’s children were taught methodically and with strict attention to grammar. Just as she had used the Abbé Gaultier’s Jeu de Grammaire to introduce French grammar to the children when they were three, then employed a French master in Paris to finish their French studies, so now she used an Italian master to give them two-hour Italian lessons twice a week for two months, and would in 1805 employ a German tutor whose grammar teaching was so thorough that after only two months of tuition George was able to read some of the famous German poets. In Margaret’s progress reports there is a noticeable decline in Genlis’s works read by the children as they grew older. The three-volume history Annales de la vertu was begun at the age of nine, re-read twice and abandoned by the age of eleven. The appropriate prayers from the Nouvelles heures were read in Passion Week only up to the age of ten, and the play La Colombe and two others were performed when Walter was eight and the twins ten. The Genlis works read to the children when they were ten included two volumes of plays, the epistolary novel Les Petits Émigrés (1798) and the book of poetry that Genlis had given Margaret in Paris, the Herbier moral (1801). By 1803 no Genlis works were read by the twins, then aged twelve, and the only one read to them was Les Veillées du château (1782), twice. The 1782 Mercure de France reviewer wrote that Genlis promoted her works shamelessly (including all but one of the above) in Adèle et Théodore, claiming that there were no pre-existing works on the subjects of religion, drama, poetry, mythology or history that were suitable for children. 2 Margaret was more than happy to use all the books recommended in Adèle et Théodore. Today it might be called clever marketing.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-6

80  The Golden Age If Genlis’s books were suited to younger children, which books did Margaret give her children when they were twelve and thirteen? Her 1803 and 1804 progress reports (the last in her Journal) show that she continued with Le Ragois’s explanation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, with Madame d’Épinay’s Conversations d’Émilie and with Anna Barbauld’s Evenings at Home (a miscellany of different levels of sophistication). They began reading Metastasio in Italian at the age of eleven, and read him for one hour every night, having studied Italian in town in the spring of 1803 for two months. 3 By the age of thirteen the twins had finished reading the last eight volumes of Metastasio’s eleven-volume Opere (1782–83) and had written summaries of all his plays. The children’s readings seem to have been a mix of juvenile and adult books. This was probably due to the dearth of dedicated children books written for this age group.4 Genlis herself wrote in her dedicatory letter to Margaret at the front of Madame de Maintenon (1806) that she had always believed that didactic novels were suitable only for young ladies who were married, not those whose education was not yet finished and who were not yet of an age to go into society. Up until now, she said, the only work she had written for that age group was Les Petits Émigrés. Now she was offering them another, Madame de Maintenon, and she was sure that they would derive some advantage from it. She therefore hoped that Mrs Chinnery would allow Caroline to read it. 5 There is no mention of the novel in Margaret’s education journal or in her letters, but Caroline certainly would have read it, as Margaret treasured all her gifts from Genlis. When they were thirteen Caroline and George both read John Aikin’s Letters from a Father to his Son, William Cowper’s Poems, Samuel Rogers’s best-selling book of poetry The Pleasures of Memory,6 Anne Radcliffe’s popular Gothic novel The Romance of the Forest, Jean Terrasson’s popular historical novel of an Egyptian pharaoh Sethos (twice) and nine of the thirteen volumes of Charles Rollin’s Histoire ancienne. There were also several religious works, some the same that Adèle read, and others in English, for example Robert Gray’s Key to the Old Testament and Apocrypha (1790). All of the above French works were also on Genlis’s reading list for Adèle, including a French equivalent of Aikin’s Letters from a Father, Abraham Trembley’s Instructions d’un père à ses enfans (1775) and Metastasio’s Œuvres. Contemporaries of Genlis, as well as modern scholars, have pointed out that Adèle et Théodore was primarily a work of female education,7 and Genlis’s list of works at the end of the novel seems to confirm this. Margaret no doubt also noticed this fact and adjusted George’s reading accordingly. For example, she took into consideration the fact that he would be attending Oxford University (where lectures in natural philosophy were offered) and had him read Jeremiah Joyce’s Scientific Dialogues, to introduce him to scientific reasoning. But most important for George’s preparation for Oxford was a good grounding in the classics – the language, history, mythology and art, all of which Margaret had already

The Golden Age  81 provided, and to which she now added Basil Kennet’s long-running Roman Antiquities (1696). By the time George reached the age of thirteen his Latin tutor, Reverend John Mullens, was more than satisfied with his progress and predicted future success in it. Margaret wrote in her Journal that ‘George takes great delight in this study and consequently devotes himself to it with the utmost good will and alacrity’.8 Houseguests, too, remarked on George’s devotion to it. When the artist Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun was visiting Gillwell in 1803 she suggested that George might like a break from his books to go and play, to which he replied that he was playing.9 At the age of twelve George translated all the works of Ovid that were suitable for his age, some of Cicero, and was already up to the fourth book of Virgil’s Georgics. Mullens reported to Margaret that he was surprised at his young pupil’s appreciation of the beauties of Latin poetry.10 Three years later George was studying Sophocles’s Electra in Greek, his first Greek lesson having taken place on his thirteenth birthday.11 Margaret noted that he made some logic summaries (also in preparation for Oxford), but no text is specified. When George and Caroline were twelve (four years younger than Adèle when she read it) they read some of Jacques Delille’s French translation of the Georgics.12 In following Genlis’s lead and having her daughter read the classics, Margaret was already breaking British tradition.

Performances of plays at Gillwell Margaret also flouted British education practice in having her children perform plays before an audience. Theatre actors and performers suffered from a dubious reputation (nevertheless, Margaret invited many of them to Gillwell), and for this reason it was considered unseemly for children to emulate them. But like Genlis, Margaret believed that recitation and play-acting in a domestic setting gave the children confidence and prepared them for their entry into society. In society it was important to be at ease, and to speak and move naturally, Margaret stressed. What better way to prepare the children for this than to perform plays before guests? These theatrical initiatives started at a young age with Genlis’s plays and evolved into ambitious productions that were put on to mark special occasions like birthdays. In the first book of Margaret’s education journal (therefore when the twins were somewhere between the ages of five and ten) is an undated loose leaf on which she has written out a plan for the children’s father’s birthday fête. The day begins with ‘an elegant breakfast’ with music playing near the windows (presumably performed by some of Viotti’s theatre colleagues). Caroline, dressed as Flora the Roman goddess of flowers and spring (William Chinnery’s birthday was in April), brings in a basket of bouquets for each member of the family to present to him. Just before dinner the guests arrive at the lodge gate to music playing, and the music continues in the gardens until dinner at 3.00pm. A two-act play

82  The Golden Age is performed by the children at 7.00pm, with tea during interval. After the play there are fireworks and music in the gardens, and to strike a festive note, the lodge and nearby cottage are illuminated. Supper at 11.00pm.13 For their father’s birthday in 1804 twelve-year-old George and Caroline made their first attempt at writing a short play. They first invented the fable, then wrote upon it separately and afterwards compared the two, selecting the best parts of each, and blending them into one little work, Margaret wrote. She liked it the better for being a ‘joint production’, which did ‘equal honour to their heads and hearts’. She offered no assistance beyond a little advice, and ‘in some places a few words to connect the parts’. It was in French, a language in which the children were so fluent that Margaret did not think the fact worth remarking. What she did remark on, however, was Caroline’s deportment. Graceful bearing played an important part in performing, and Margaret advised her daughter that ‘she must endeavour to become a little more upright before the Fête, or she will make a bad figure on the stage’.14 In her progress report for the twins’ thirteenth birthday she wrote that this play ‘was a truly astonishing production for two twelveyear-old children’ and that she could tell by the spectators’ reactions (tears and surprise) that the twins’ acting was realistic and sensible.15 No doubt the fact that the play was written by the children themselves was protection against the charge of indecorousness. Part of what may have been the above play has survived. In Margaret’s hand, and entitled ‘Le Berger suisse éloigné de sa patrie’ (The Swiss shepherd exiled from his homeland), it is written, naturally enough, in a vein similar to that found in the French juvenile dramas by Genlis and La Fite that the twins had read, in a woodland setting of nymphs, lambs and birds.16 The themes of exile and idyllic pastoral life are probably a reference to their father’s living in the city, removed from the bucolic tranquillity of Gillwell, an unwittingly prescient articulation of his later exile from Britain. Another birthday fête was staged the following year, this time a dramatic proverb. During rehearsals George and Caroline were admonished for ‘hold[ing] their chins as bad as ever, perhaps worse’, which Margaret did not think augured well ‘for the gracefulness of person and action that will be required in acting and dancing’.17 By the date of the performance this fault was corrected, Margaret writing that the birthday spectacle went off admirably and ‘all were deservedly applauded’.18 One week later there was a repeat performance before some houseguests: ‘Our little company of comedians performed better by far on Saturday evening than they did on the 6th. They all played with more care and spirit. The Proverb and the dance went off with equal éclat’.19 Music was an integral part of these plays, and the children were expected to accompany themselves or each other as they sang or danced, just as Genlis had done in her youth. In the warmer seasons these plays were performed in an open air theatre, which was probably designed by Humphry Repton, 20 behind the house, next to the archery lawn. In a note addressed to William Chinnery at the

The Golden Age  83 Treasury the poet-connoisseur Samuel Rogers (who was then at Tunbridge Wells with the Chinnerys’ good friend William Spencer) regretted that they were unexpectedly prevented from setting out for Gillwell to attend one such performance, adding: ‘Pray remember us very particularly to one and all of the Comedians. We shall be with you in imagination and invoke the Sun to shine without a Cloud’. 21 This production can be dated to around 1806, when the twins were just under fifteen years old. Gillwell had its own playhouse and a separate scenery room, in which was stored a guitar and a tambourine. Viotti helped with the staging of the plays and with the music, as evidenced by a page of undated writing in his hand entitled ‘Palais de l’Esperance’, which may have been from around 1805, and which seems to be the stage directions for a musical dictated to Viotti by the children. It was clearly inspired by one of Genlis’s tales, her ‘Palais de la Vérité’, from volume four of the Veillées du château. Both have a central character who is a fairy endowed with magical powers and, like Genlis’s, the children’s play (in French) is also an allegory: ‘The palace of hope is built by the imagination, one enters by desire, and Affection and Fidelity are awaited daily in order to marry them together’. At the bottom of the sheet is Viotti’s trademark signature (two treble clefs), that he affixed to any words meant to be accompanied by music. 22 Margaret also owned collections of British plays (as well as many in French and Italian), which are listed in the sale catalogue of the Chinnery library. The most important for educational purposes was Joanna Baillie’s three-volume Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate the stronger passions of the mind, each passion being the subject of a tragedy and a comedy (1799). Restraint of the passions was a fundamental consideration of educationists. Catherine Macaulay wrote, ‘Of all the arts of life, that of giving useful instruction to the human mind, and of rendering it the master of its affections [passions], is the most important’. 23 This was the reason for Margaret’s insistence on self-command in her children, and why she used Baillie’s plays as instructive tools. Baillie’s aim was to delineate the character of the chief person of each drama, independently of his being the subject of a particular passion; so that we might have an idea of what kind of man he would have been had no circumstances ever arisen to bring that passion violently into action. 24 By having the children perform in plays Margaret was preparing George and Caroline for being at ease in company. After one weekend of entertaining houseguests at Gillwell when the twins were twelve, Margaret wrote in her Journal that she wished that Caroline would ‘endeavour to acquire some degree of gracefulness of person’ and that George would acquire ‘a little of what in French is called aisance’. This should arise, she explained, ‘from a happy mixture of ease, and the most refined politeness. To be polite, we must always appear to be perfectly natural’. 25 Archery, like

84  The Golden Age acting, was an activity which promoted gracefulness. Like Genlis, Margaret considered archery ‘a graceful manly exercise’, and required that George practise it seriously during his hours of recreation, always having regard to the rules. 26 Recreation time was not to be wasted. Wasting time, Margaret told George, arose from a sort of indecision and irregularity with regard to the disposition of his time. […] When the regular course of events is by any accident interrupted, a wise man by activity and foresight, and promptitude in action, will derive every possible advantage from the means he may still possess, while the weak and frivolous are lost in doubt and uncertainty. However life is subject to constant vicissitudes and changes, and I know not any quality I should more wish you to acquire, than that of remaining firm and steady and imperturbable, while exterior circumstances are shifting around you. 27 Caroline was also reminded about wasting time. Margaret urged her to follow the precepts in Genlis’s Herbier moral, the book Genlis had given her in Paris. I have put into her hands a most valuable book written by our beloved and highly esteemed friend! Such a book must of course be read with profit and delight by those who have not had the good fortune to know the author personally, who are neither honoured by her affection or friendship as we are. What then must be the effects on you my dear Caroline? You who in each line will recall her look and voice, and think she is addressing herself directly to you, and you alone in sweet familiar conversation. 28 No exceptions were made when the children were on holidays. After a long journey to Brighton Margaret wrote: I am surprised that two persons who know the value of time as well as George and Caroline should have passed their whole evening in perfect idleness! When people come in from a long and fatiguing journey, they may perhaps not feel disposed to do any thing; but what fatigue have they undergone to day? From dinner till bed time they neither of them employed a single minute of time! Now what advantage has Caroline derived from reading Madame de Genlis’s calculations upon the loss and gain of time? Certainly none, and in that case she had better return me the book. I could not have thought such a circumstance possible with either of them. 29 Genlis’s precepts are to be found on every page of Margaret’s Journal. She wished the children to act according to Christian teachings and extend

The Golden Age  85 charity and compassion and even education (to the best of their ability) to the poor.30 She required that the children confide in her, even when they had done wrong: I had flattered myself that I should possess George’s unlimited unbounded confidence. Where can he find a fonder, more sincere, or more devoted friend than myself? […] Virtuous conduct is not an affair of theory but of daily practice, and requires that we should vigilantly watch ourselves.31 As Genlis chastised Théodore for his timidity, so Margaret corrected George’s, which she considered to be ‘of all failings the most unfortunate and disadvantageous for a man’.32 Nevertheless, Margaret surely took heart from Locke’s belief that, although ‘sheepishness’ was a risk associated with private (home) education, it was curable, whereas vice was harder to eradicate and therefore a more dangerous evil.33 Liberality was a quintessentially British virtue, and one that Margaret prided herself on possessing. She condemned any criticism of foreign manners and customs, and any derogatory comment of a personal nature. When the Italian contralto Giuseppina Grassini visited Gillwell in 1804 Margaret found her mockery of English countrywomen’s dancing in bad taste and was pleased that her children made the same observation. In Maria’s journal I am pleased to see that Caroline’s indignation was excited as it ought to be by Madame Grassini’s vulgar and awkward mockery of our countrywomen’s dancing. Without prejudice, it must be allowed that english women in general have a dignity of mind and manners, that amply compensate some of the french graces, and which must by sensible people, be deemed more estimable than that levity so prevalent in the manners of italian females. With regard to Mme Grassini it would be needless for me to remark on the indelicacy and impropriety of this action in her. Caroline felt it and George too I dare say; and that is enough for me. I should at the same time remark that any observations on her profession or on her conduct as arising from her profession are illiberal.34 The last remark shows that the children were well aware of the reputation of theatre performers, and that although their indignation at Grassini’s mockery was lauded, no remark about her private life would be tolerated.

Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun and instructive visits It was just before the abrogation of the Peace of Amiens, in April 1803, that the French artist Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun came to England and shortly afterwards, visited Gillwell. Le Brun very soon became a close friend of

86  The Golden Age Margaret and paid several visits to Gillwell over her two-year stay. During a walk in the gardens on one of her visits Caroline was upbraided for importuning her with persistent questioning and for asking too many questions during a coach journey to and from town. Margaret reminded her of the lessons she had received on the subject as a young child. ‘There are certain rules for asking questions, which Caroline learned many years ago, and has probably forgotten’.35 Here, Margaret was referring to the lesson in Genlis’s New Method of Instruction for Children, 36 which she had given to the twins when they were younger than nine. Margaret considered this a serious fault, for questioning an adult without a humble and submissive tone of voice, and without a genuine desire to learn, was indiscreet and impolite and contravened the rules of polite intercourse. Caroline was now old enough to be expected to respect these rules. Just as Margaret had profited from the musical expertise of Viotti for the benefit of her children’s education, so now she was able to take advantage of Le Brun’s knowledge of art. Acting as their guide, Le Brun accompanied Margaret and the children to town to visit two celebrated private art collections, instructive excursions such as Genlis recommended in Adèle et Théodore. The family stayed with Margaret’s uncle Henry Holland, who provided letters of introduction to the owners of the two collections. At breakfast Caroline did not meet her mother’s expectations of sociability. She was only ‘passively polite’, made no exertion to please her aunt or her cousins and ‘appeared perfectly indifferent, and more like a spectator than as forming part of the company’. They missed seeing Margaret’s sister, but Margaret expected the twins to make polite enquiries after her. George did so, but Caroline omitted this little attention, not from a bad disposition towards her aunt whom she loves and respects, but from odious neglect and carelessness. Attention, without which we never can succeed in anything, will not come of itself, nor can we comply with our commonest daily duties, without a constant exertion of it.37 The first visit, in November 1803, was to a picture collection belonging to a Mr Hastings Elwin, who occupied two houses in Sloane Street38 that were part of Holland’s Hans Town development. The second was to Duchess Street, Cavendish Square, to the Robert Adam-designed mansion of the wealthy connoisseur Thomas Hope. A member of both the Society of Antiquaries and the Society of Dilettanti, Hope was a respected collector. Margaret wanted the children to see his valuable collection of antique statues and vases, which had been acquired on his grand tours of Europe, North Africa, Greece and Turkey. The latest addition was the second vase collection of Sir William Hamilton, purchased in 1801. Thomas Hope’s house was designed as a showcase for his collection, but the interior was idiosyncratic. The whole of the first floor was arranged

The Golden Age  87 around four sides of a courtyard, with each wing divided into exhibition rooms with a different theme. There was an Egyptian room, four vase rooms, in which the vases were displayed in recessed niches resembling ancient columbaria39 and a long narrow statue gallery for his collection of ancient marbles. The famed Aurora room had walls hung with satin curtains the colour of sunrise and a ceiling painted sky blue. The colours in the other rooms were equally vibrant. To these visual effects Hope added sensory delights. Organ music could be heard coming from the picture gallery. Incense burned in the Indian room.40 Margaret and Le Brun’s visit to Hope’s house took place three months before it was officially opened to the connoisseurs, although other Chinnery acquaintances such as John Soane had been invited earlier. The opinions of these earlier visitors had got back to the Chinnerys, for when George and Caroline were shown the collection, Margaret recorded in her Journal that George was ‘less interested [in what was on show] because he heard that others were so’. It was a mistake to be swayed by the opinion of others, Margaret warned, for it prevented him from looking with as much admiration at the exquisite pictures and statues as he might otherwise have done. ‘There are very fine things at Mr Hopes’, she explained, ‘but they are ill placed and ill lighted’.41 This was another lesson in making up one’s own mind, and in taste, which no amount of wealth could buy. In this belief Margaret was in good company. In Alexander Pope’s 1731 Epistle to the Earl of Burlington he lambasted those who affected taste as ‘common’, saying the affectation was caused by ‘bad principles of education when young’,42 an error which Margaret would not make. One of London’s most famous collectors, Charles Townley, agreed with Margaret’s opinion of Hope’s collection, borrowing from Pope when he wrote after his February 1804 visit: ‘Something there is more needful than expense | And something previous e’en to taste…’tis sense’.43 But in spite of these disadvantages, Margaret told her children, the true connoisseur was able to discover the beauty of the objects, ‘and in so doing distinguishes himself from the common and useless observer’. Caroline, she was displeased to note, was not struck with any one thing at Mr Hopes [sic] excepting the organ. That roused her attention for a few minutes, but during the rest of the time she was completely idle. It was an advantage to be highly prized to have an opportunity of seeing these collections with Madme Lebrun; they should have listened to all she said with the most profound attention and have written it in their common place books today.44 The keeping of a commonplace book was a practice that Margaret encouraged even at this young age, and especially recommended when George was at Oxford. The children were expected to write down interesting facts they had learned, or any original ideas that occurred to them. The only

88  The Golden Age Chinnery commonplace book to have survived is Caroline’s. It is a small alphabetically arranged exercise book, containing a stock of historical dates, quotations, sayings, proverbs, noteworthy or instructive anecdotes, examples of valour and piety, as well as some original thoughts, and seems to date from her early adolescence.45 Eighteen months later the twins were taken to visit the British Museum, then situated in Montagu House. It had recently acquired some valuable antiquities to add to its books and natural history collections. The Townley marbles had arrived, although the gallery to house them was still under construction. There was also the first vase collection of Sir William Hamilton and the Egyptian sculpture booty taken from the French after their defeat at the Battle of Alexandria in 1801. It was only the upper classes who were admitted to the Museum and visitors had to apply in advance for tickets. The Chinnerys were shown the collections by the head curator himself, Joseph Planta. This was an exceptional opportunity for a lesson in history and mythology and Margaret was pleased that the twins ‘listened with great attention, examined every object presented to them, and questioned with intelligence’.46

‘Blind submission’ Some faults of Caroline’s Margaret found hard to correct, such as her bursts of temper during piano lessons and her dogged refusal to correct the way she held her thumb when she played. There was also her poor posture. Such character flaws and bad habits were the hardest part of the work of an educator, the 1782 Adèle et Théodore reviewer opined, and yet the problem of how to deal with them was completely ignored in Genlis’s novel.47 But was it? One of the key recommendations in Adèle et Théodore, following Locke’s tenet that education into virtue meant training in self-command (‘restraint of the passions’48), was that the educator should make her charge practise self-command, and that it could be learned by habit.49 This, in turn, would enable the pupil to correct his own faults. However, it was a difficult thing to achieve, especially when the children were entering adolescence. After a dancing lesson, in which the master was hard-pressed to correct some of Caroline’s ‘trifling awkward tricks’, Margaret wrote in her Journal: The worst part of this story is, that Caroline has not self command and perseverance sufficient to do honour to her master upon this condition! She has ability and courage, and every natural quality that can be requisite, but the will to exert them constantly. Here, here, brings the difficulty.50 After a year of fruitless attempts to teach her thirteen-year-old daughter self-command, Margaret was in despair: ‘Is she dispensed from the duty of

The Golden Age  89 keeping watch over herself? She forgets that she must be her own keeper, and is now of an age to be accountable for her conduct’.51 What to do? The solution was, Genlis suggested, offering rewards, but this required considerable skill on the part of the educator. What was offered had to be something of solid value and something that the child would like, such as proof of her mother’s trust, her mother’s portrait, or a useful book.52 When, by the end of 1803, Caroline had not corrected the faults that had been pointed out to her ‘some few hundred times’, Margaret reminded her that if she co-operated there might exist ‘the most delicious intimacy’ between them, and that together mother and daughter might make plans ‘for the comfort and relief of our poor neighbours, and execute them together’, a cause that Caroline held dear to her heart. While Caroline’s faults continued uncorrected, however, this project could not take place. This was a reward of which Genlis would have approved. ‘What is it that I require?’ Margaret asked. Nothing difficult, simply that Caroline should ‘really attend’ to her faults so that some improvement was discernible.53 None was. Margaret then tried appealing to reason. I entreat her to remember that it is not enough for us to know our duty, we must also practise it; and that a cold and fruitless admiration of the virtues that adorn the pages either of the poet or historian will avail us little, if we are not thereby excited to an imitation of them. This is a reflection I would wish her to make considering the subject in a moral point of view.54 This did not achieve the desired effect, and Caroline compounded her errors by arguing the point with her mother loudly and obstinately during the Italian reading on Christmas Eve. This time Margaret reminded her of the Christian virtues. I really would not have thought that Caroline was weak and foolish enough to have so high an esteem for her own abilities as she showed this evening. Let her in future recollect that no information or instruction can compensate want of modesty, submission, diffidence, and gentleness. Has she forgotten what the evangelists say of the vanity of all worldly learning without Christian virtues, and above all the highest of all Christian graces, and of which our Saviour himself set us so bright a pattern, humility?55 Next came punishments, following Genlis’s advice. When Caroline was younger she was denied an outing in the carriage or was confined to her room for dinner and supper. But when she was older the punishment was the withdrawal of her mother’s affection. In Adèle et Théodore the baronne threatened to do this when Adèle behaved badly towards her governess.56 Margaret ended up denying her daughter her love until she had

90  The Golden Age obeyed. Insistence on ‘blind submission’ to the will of the educator was something that Genlis had been widely criticised for. Margaret certainly required submission from her pupils, but it was not ‘blind’. She had used reason, appealed to her daughter’s conscience, had proposed delightful projects longed for by Caroline as a reward and drawn on Christian teachings before coming to such a drastic pass. Even now Margaret explained her rationale. She evidently takes not the least pains about it; this is so undutiful and so unamiable in every sense of the word, that I do not think her entitled to any demonstration of affection from me while it lasts. Thus does she destroy the sweetness and happiness of her own life and mine, rather than devote her constant and unremitting attention to a point upon which I do and shall insist! […] I know it is difficult to conquer an old habit but I require it, and she should submit.57 Today this would be called emotional blackmail, and it caused Caroline much grief, 58 but it worked. Therefore, it could be argued, Genlis’s strategies were not effective after all – at this age. However, for Caroline, insubordination was but a two-year phase during early adolescence. When she matured she became every bit the model of a sensible, able and modest young lady, exactly as Adèle became in Genlis’s novel. This happy outcome probably owed more to Caroline’s natural transition into adulthood than to Genlis’s teachings. Nevertheless, Margaret stuck to Genlis’s method and her perseverance paid dividends. Perseverance was a quality that she shared with her mentor and one, as The Monthly Review had pointed out, that was necessary in any person undertaking Genlis’s method.59 By the beginning of 1805 both the twins displayed a genuine desire for self-improvement and an eagerness to please their mother, which are expressed in a piece of writing by George of which Genlis would have been proud. ‘Reflections on New Year’s Day’, was written on 1 January 1805, after a year of unrelenting admonitions in Margaret’s Journal. In words that mimicked Margaret’s own, George wrote of the need to possess ‘self command enough to overcome our passions’, to correct ‘gross blemishes in our Character’ by means of ‘deep meditation’ and ‘through the mediation of Jesus Christ amend our Lives according to the will of God’.60 His father, who had been quite removed from the business of education, was so taken with these words that he made a copy of them, above which he wrote that his son’s reflections were an honourable […] testimony of the conciseness of his Thoughts, the goodness of his Heart and of the result […] of his dear Mother’s unexampled Care and Abilities in thus instilling into him the only true Principles of right Conduct in this Life.61

The Golden Age  91 As a reward, Margaret took the twins to town to hear their first opera, Gli Orazi ed i Curiazi, starring Madame Grassini, the Italian contralto whose mockery of English countrywomen’s dancing the previous year had so shocked the twins. But if the artist’s private comportment was to be deplored, her talent was to be admired, and Margaret clearly had no qualms about asking her children to put aside their judgement of the former in order to appreciate the latter. Once home, the children were chastised for ‘the gross impropriety’ of talking of their popularity with the crowd of fashionables who came to their box: it was their parents they had come to see, not them, and it was ‘disgusting’ to others to talk of oneself.62

Resident tutor Herr C.L. Trumpf Until they reached the age of thirteen Margaret herself taught most of the subjects she deemed necessary to her children’s education, believing, as Genlis did, that the mother was more competent to teach both girls and boys up to that age than ‘the best father or the most able tutor’.63 But once George turned thirteen Margaret decided to employ a resident classics and mathematics tutor, who would be better qualified to prepare him for Oxford. He would give George private instruction in German, mathematics, Greek and Latin, and instruct all five children (George, Caroline, Matilda, little Margaret and Maria) in German and some of the sciences (mineralogy, natural history, astronomy), none of which Margaret felt qualified to teach. Mr Trumpf of the University of Gottingen arrived at Gillwell, to live with us in the quality of Tutor to George […] Our object in having such a person is, that George may have constantly when out of my study, a male companion; who can instruct him in the German language, and in the elements of scientific knowledge, walk with him, and be at all times an instructive companion. Herr Trumpf is also engaged to teach the other children every thing proper for them to learn of natural history, Astronomy, German &c&c.64 Like the French governess, Trumpf was required to keep a journal, and since Trumpf’s English was poor and Margaret had no German, he kept it in French.65 The journal which remains to us covers only the first three months of his residence at Gillwell, which lasted just over four years, but it did contain an informative list of items purchased for the children’s education, including twenty-one substances for their mineralogy lessons, some German books and a natural history book for George, William Fordyce Mavor’s Elements of Natural History (1800). Margaret’s instructions to Trumpf were strict. He was to follow rigorously the plan de journée that she drew up for him, utilising every minute of the day. The day was to be

92  The Golden Age divided between private lessons for George and common lessons for all five children. Some additional German classes were to be given to George and Caroline together, which Margaret herself sometimes joined. Margaret insisted that for all subjects Trumpf had a plan of study, for, as she wrote (in French) in his journal, ‘My experience in education has taught me that without method and clarity one can never hold children’s attention’.66 He was to rise with George at 6.00am in summer and 7.00am in winter. He was to supervise George’s early morning physical exercises, note the weights he could lift and enter all this in his journal. If for any reason George was prevented from doing his morning exercises, he had to make them up at lunch time. Trumpf also had to supervise the children’s recreational games in the evening. Margaret approved of the reward system Trumpf suggested for the little girls – that of making them a present of some small engravings of natural history objects once a month in return for diligence – but did not allow him to mete out punishments. That was her prerogative alone. George’s private lessons with Trumpf took place in the morning, the best time of day for hard study, according to Margaret. After his physical exercises George did private study in preparation for his Latin and Greek lessons with Reverend Mullens. Margaret did not consider Trumpf’s English adequate for the explanation and translation of the classics and kept on George’s old visiting tutor to teach Virgil and Horace three days a week. Trumpf’s role was restricted to supervising George’s private study of the classical authors, explaining points of grammar or teaching prosody. When Mullens left the Waltham Abbey curacy in January 1807 Trumpf took over the teaching of Greek and Latin, but with Margaret keeping a sharp eye on George’s translations: ‘I am attentive to the English, taking care that he construes into good english, makes a proper choice of words &c &c’.67 The subjects that in Margaret’s view required less concentrated study were reserved for the afternoons. Mineralogy, astronomy (taught with a magic lantern) and natural history were all assigned to the afternoon or evening, along with physics experiments and geography problems (using a globe), simple German instruction for the little girls and some additional arithmetic classes. Margaret denied Trumpf permission to move to morning slots some of his mineralogy experiments that needed sunlight, not wishing to compromise the more rigorous morning studies. All Trumpf’s classes had to be rearranged when the weekly dancing and drawing lessons took place. Trumpf requested six hours a week for the teaching of mathematics to George. Margaret required him to teach elementary geometry, trigonometry, algebra and the theory of applied mathematics. Trumpf admitted to having no experience in applied mathematics (‘architecture’ or ‘fortification’) but thought that the theory of mathematics should be mastered before embarking on applied mathematics. He would also teach George Euclid in preparation for Oxford. Trumpf’s explanation of the method he used to teach German is illuminating. The foundation stone on which the study of all languages rested was grammar, a rigorous discipline that seemed to be

The Golden Age  93 overlooked, or at least never mentioned, by Genlis in Adèle et Théodore. As well as teaching German grammar, syntax and the Gothic script, Trumpf prepared for George lists of vocabulary and idiomatic phrases to learn, gave him dictations and made him do translations from German into both English and French, a skill at which George became so adept that he could, after only two months of German lessons, translate extemporaneously into German Trumpf’s dictation in French. The speed at which George mastered German astounded even Margaret. After two months of German tuition for five and a half hours a week Trumpf deemed that George needed no more grammar lessons and could progress straight to ‘the treasures of German literature’.68 The first of these was Salomon Gessner’s popular Idyllen (1756), followed by fables by Christian Gellert and Gotthold Lessing. Gessner and Gellert were both writers that were recommended in Adèle et Théodore.69 Either of his own initiative or under instructions from Margaret, Trumpf endeavoured, like Genlis, to derive multiple benefits from any one activity, so that when he gave Matilda and little Margaret their monthly rewards of engravings of plants and animals, he combined a natural history lesson with a German lesson, by using German to explain the subjects of the pictures. When he walked with the children twice a day, he spoke only German. Trumpf left Gillwell in February 1809, at the beginning of George’s second year at Oxford. Margaret found him a position with a London family, where, it transpired, the children were as lazy as the Chinnery children were diligent. Trumpf, like Mullens, had found it a pleasure to teach George, who was clearly a gifted pupil. Both Trumpf and Mullens on many occasions praised George’s attitude and aptitude. Of George’s enjoyment of German lessons, Trumpf reported to Margaret that it could in no way be called ‘work’ for him.70 When Mullens left Waltham Abbey to go to Scotland, where he took over the education of the Bishop of Edinburgh’s children, he wrote to Margaret: ‘The task with those boys is laborious; but George spoiled me. I frequently think when I dismiss them, how I should enjoy working with George afterwards for two hours, by way of Relaxation’.71 Since the Chinnery children were clearly intelligent, it is difficult to say how much Genlis’s methods contributed to Margaret’s success with their education, and how much was due to their natural aptitude. Margaret’s exceptional dedication and perseverance certainly contributed, and she clearly possessed the ‘intellectual and moral endowments’ that the 1784 reviewer of Genlis’s Adèle et Théodore thought were needed to implement Genlis’s plan and which ‘falls to the lot of few individuals’.72 Margaret was held in high regard by her friends for these qualities. When MP Pascoe Grenfell’s son Charles, who was the same age as George, but who was being school-educated, spent a few days at Gillwell in the winter holidays of 1805 before returning to Harrow, his father wrote to Margaret, saying that he hoped Charles would continue to deserve her good opinion, ‘for to be praised by you, has a Value in my estimation far beyond the praise

94  The Golden Age of almost any other person with whom I am acquainted’.73 Grenfell had a high opinion of Margaret’s education plan. Two months earlier he had written that he trembled to debate with her on a subject, which so happily for your Children, you have so long made your Study, and upon which, as well as upon any other Subjects to which you might direct your attention, your superior good Sense must enable you to form a Correct and unprejudiced Judgement.74 After George’s pleasing composition ‘Reflections on New Year’s Day’, Margaret thought he was mature enough to profit from the conversation of erudite men and women. In the spring season of 1805, therefore, she took him with her to a dinner in town at the poet William Sotheby’s, where there were ‘several very clever people’, among whom were the scientist Dr Robert Healy,75 the poet William Lisle Bowles, the dilettante Sir Harry Englefield and the education writer Elizabeth Hamilton, whose philosophy of education informed Margaret’s teaching. She was pleased with George’s attentive demeanour at table, but disappointed in his ‘heaviness’ in the drawing room afterwards. ‘Too much gravity and too constant seriousness cannot become George’s age. There is a way of listening that discovers intelligence, and is almost equal to taking part in the conversation’, she wrote in her Journal. ‘In this way should a sensible boy of thirteen and a half listen; but not with a grave, heavy unaltered countenance, that almost indicates ennui’.76 The twins were also expected to pay attention to the conversation of sensible, learned men and women in their own domestic setting, in accordance with Locke’s advice to accustom children to company in their own homes, and to ‘engage them in conversation with men of parts and breeding, as soon as they are capable of it’.77 When the witty Chinnery friend William Spencer (see below) introduced to Gillwell a varied array of poets, authors and dilettante aristocrats, Margaret was careful to point out their strengths and their faults to her children. One was the colourful Colonel Greville, who held eccentric fêtes in his home in Little Argyll Street, where the participants were known as the Pic-Nics.78 He created a brief but fashionable fad, which was at its zenith in 1807 when he came to Gillwell. Another was the wit Henry Luttrell.79 Margaret told the twins that although Mr Luttrell was reputed to be a clever man he had none of the talents or qualities that distinguish men in society. The same was true of Colonel Greville, who at dinner had only one topic of conversation. For Margaret, the most important consideration in company was sociability. To speak of one subject to the exclusion of others was not sociable, she explained to her children. Sociability was an art, in which ‘l’esprit de société must be at liberty and disengaged, that it may follow the bent of the general conversation, and contribute its contingent upon every topic’.80 On New Year’s Day 1807 Caroline informed her mother that, of her own initiative, she had been studying geometry and had mastered the

The Golden Age  95 first book of Euclid. She had first consulted Trumpf, who believed he had heard Margaret say ‘that the elements of that science should form part of a solid female education’.81 Margaret was equally pleased with Caroline’s early attempts at verse-writing and at composing music. (She had written some pretty verses on Spring and had set some Italian verses to music.82) Throughout 1807 Margaret continued history lessons. During one of these she was mortified to find that George had forgotten the century in which Charlemagne had lived. The fault, she said, lay with him, not her. Certainly were I to begin over again, I could not trace out a better plan of historical study, nor pursue it with more constancy and ardour. I have also endeavoured to awaken attention by occasional remarks, questions, and occasionally long conversations. These cares have not been exerted irregularly or by chance, but uniformly every day during the last ten years! Every day I have been attentive to render this course of history, as far as was in my power, interesting, amusing and highly instructive […] I should add that of all ancient history, to the end of Roman history, they wrote every morning an extract [summary] of what they had read the day before; that they were very good geographers, before they entered upon their course of history, and have constantly referred to Blair’s Chronology to settle every doubt, and to study every remarkable epocha.83 The Reverend John Blair’s Chronology (1754) was a chronology and history of the world from the Creation to 1753 in easy-to-consult tabular form. It was not written for young children, and as Margaret says above, she used it as a reference book as well as for history studies. Perhaps because of her own unfortunate experience of learning geography, she deemed it important that the children be well grounded in that subject before beginning their history studies. A knowledge of the atlas, along with the additional subject matter that the most popular geography works then included (e.g. dress, mores, industries of a given people) would certainly have been good preparation for history studies, so perhaps this order of teaching the two subjects was common practice.

The Honourable William Robert Spencer In 1807 there came into the Chinnery domestic circle two high society figures, the first of whom, the Honourable William Robert Spencer, would be a participant, just as Viotti and Le Brun had been, in the children’s education. Spencer was a member of the aristocratic family descended from the famous 3rd Duke of Marlborough, his grandfather. His father was Lord Charles Spencer, and William was the archetypical impoverished second son. He relied on friends and family to give him lodging, since his own house in Mayfair was under constant threat of being repossessed by the bailiffs. He

96  The Golden Age moved between his uncle’s home Woolbeding in Sussex; Chiswick, the villa of his cousin the 5th Duke of Devonshire; and Wheatfield in Oxfordshire, his own family seat and home to his father Lord Charles and his elder brother John. His least favourite resort was Blenheim, the cheerless palace belonging to his uncle the 4th Duke of Marlborough. His favourite was Gillwell. Spencer much preferred the stimulating conversation at Gillwell to that at any of his relatives’ homes. At his father’s house, he said, he hardly spoke fifteen words a day to the fifteen guests. ‘You four’, he wrote of Margaret, Viotti, George and Caroline, ‘talk as much as twenty, we sixteen as little as one’.84 The last comment shows that if amusing and instructive conversation was part and parcel of sociability in some wealthy and cultured families, it was not necessarily so in all of them, even the most aristocratic such as Spencer’s. When George was at Oxford he told his mother that dinners at Blenheim were reputed to be dull, and his own experience confirmed this to be the case.85 Gay conversation at table that was at the same time sensible was not an easy thing for a hostess to achieve, but thanks to her own example and the careful selection of her guests, Margaret succeeded. Indeed, all the Chinnerys seem to have been expert at enlivening dinner-table conversation. William Chinnery was a guest who could always be relied upon to ‘faire les frais de la conversation’ (keep the conversation going) at the Devonshire parties, for which Spencer’s cousin Harriet Countess Granville was most grateful.86 An alumnus of Christ Church College, Oxford, Spencer obliged Margaret by spending time with George assessing his knowledge of Latin and Greek. He, like others, thought George’s progress very advanced for his age, and that all that remained was to make himself master of the Greek and Latin metres, so that he could write verse in Latin and Greek, a gentlemanly skill that was much admired in society. Margaret also showed Spencer the verses Caroline had written, and he corrected some minor faults in her alexandrines.87 Margaret appreciated the benefits Spencer could bring to her children. Not only did he know the classical languages, history and mythology, he was conversant with four modern languages and composed verse with equal facility in English, French, Italian, German, Latin and even Old French.88 The idea of employing Spencer as Caroline’s tutor came after George had left for Oxford. Against the advice of William and Viotti, neither of whom wanted to see Spencer supplant Margaret as Caroline’s mentor, she decided to ask Spencer to read the classics with Caroline, and to teach her Latin and prosody. In return for his lodging at Gillwell, Spencer offered Margaret his home in Curzon Street (if it was available) whenever she came to town. Margaret took advantage of the offer when she took the twins to town to attend a dinner at the connoisseur Richard Payne Knight’s to see his celebrated collection of bronzes. Margaret and the twins also attended dinners at Lady Susan Fincastle’s, at Lady Clifden’s and at Lady Anne Hamilton’s, and Margaret hosted her own large parties. These were her first opportunities

The Golden Age  97 to show Caroline to fashionable friends in the privacy of her own drawing room, and she expected Caroline to practise all the social niceties that she had, with such painstaking care, instilled in her. The above-mentioned ladies were known to be arbiters of taste, and Margaret knew that if Caroline could please them she could please anyone. Caroline met Margaret’s expectations and did credit to the careful education I have endeavoured to give her upon all these occasions. She conducted herself with propriety, modesty and good sense, and she had her reward in the esteem and attention she obtained. This may convince her that what I have ever told her is true – a right conduct united to pleasing manners, must succeed in society.89 Margaret agreed with Maria Edgeworth’s teaching that a young lady ‘should attach by her good qualities, rather than shine by her accomplishments’.90 She also agreed with her condemnation of the abuse of such accomplishments: ‘we only wish that they should be considered as domestic occupations, not as matters of competition, or of exhibition, or yet as means of attracting temporary admiration’.91 Margaret herself wrote: It is evident therefore, that when so much pains [sic] is taken to ornament the mind of a female, and to give her elegant accomplishments the intent must be that of improving domestic society. I am not here talking of those absurd young persons, and of still more absurd parents who like to exhibit their children like public performers for the amusement of large assemblies. This practice I have ever regarded as a most indecorous folly. But the friends of the family, who occasionally join the domestic circle, should partake of its enjoyments whatever they may be, and a young person with every regard to the strictest modesty and the purest delicacy, may assist her mother in the entertainment of her friends.92 The second society figure to enter Margaret’s world that year was George III’s youngest son Adolphus Frederick, first Duke of Cambridge, who had in 1807 become Viotti’s violin pupil. From that time the duke became a regular houseguest at Gillwell. Although many today tar the Duke of Cambridge with the same brush as his profligate and dissolute brothers, he was in fact very different from them. Margaret was well aware of the reputation of his royal brothers but found Cambridge principled and quite unaffected. It is really wonderful that the constant flattery to which he has been exposed from his birth should have done him no harm […] His moral character is excellent, his principles perfect, and to this, and this only can we attribute his being so highly esteemed, and so very popular.93

98  The Golden Age Another who found him so was the artist Joseph Farington.94 The duke soon developed a deep respect for Margaret, and never could, he said, leave ‘that charming place [Gillwell] without the deepest regret, and the sincerest regard for its amiable inhabitants’.95 The duke was a witness to the education going on at Gillwell, and at the time of George’s departure for Oxford told William that he was full of admiration for Margaret’s dedication: ‘HRH did not fail to express over and over again his Sense of the singular Advantages which George and Caroline have had the good fortune to derive from your invaluable Attention to their Hearts and Minds’.96 Margaret was already respected as an educator in her own circle of friends and family, but once she had a made a friend of the Duke of Cambridge her reputation as an educator soared. In 1806 her cousin Bridget Holland had written to her enquiring after her method of teaching piano. Her reply contains her educational principles in a nutshell: One of the general principles that have governed my conduct, in every part of the education of my children is, that they should never be required to say, or to do any thing that cannot be brought down to the level of their capacities, and satisfactorily explained to them. Faith can only be asked of them, as an article of religion, on every other point they should I think, have their reason and judgement exercised; they should as far as it may be possible, be encouraged to find out for themselves what they want, with very little assistance.97 Like the marquise de Lambert, Genlis and most of the English educationists, Margaret believed that children should be taught only what was at their level of understanding, and that religion was the only subject that must be taken on faith. It was in 1806 that Genlis had broadcast to the world her praise for Margaret’s educational endeavours in the dedication of her historical novel Madame de Maintenon to her.98 In 1807 she received another book dedication. This time it was from her friend the travel writer Sir John Carr, who, in ponderous prose, dedicated to her the second edition of his Stranger in France (1807): Madam, Could you impart to me the style by which your epistolary writing is so gracefully distinguished, I could more powerfully express the pride and pleasure I feel in dedicating the following pages to you, as a little memorial of the high value I place upon the friendship with which you have so long favoured me, and better describe the loss which society sustained when the bias of maternal duty, so worthy of the eulogium it has received from the commemorative pen of a Genlis, very early in life withdrew you to Gillwell; a sacrifice which you have had the felicity of seeing compensated by the success which has crowned your anxious and affectionate labours.

The Golden Age  99 Once the children were in their sixteenth year and nearing the age when they could go into society, Margaret began concentrating in earnest on the third strand of her education plan ‘the Graces’. (The first strand was of course virtue, the bedrock of education, the second, the acquisition of knowledge.) The graces, as Margaret had ever stressed to the children, were requisite in company and included all outward bodily embellishments from the carriage of the person to the tone of voice used in speaking. They smoothed the way for harmonious relations between men and women and made society pleasant for all. Caroline was told not to remain silent in the company of friends: To see a young person [lady] talkative, loud, and forward is extremely disgusting, but what is the use of a cultivated mind, if it be not to embellish and enliven domestic conversation [i.e. society]? This I conceive to be the end of female talents and accomplishments, because they form no part of the instruction which directs us in our duties, and the government of our conduct!99 By making a clear distinction between pretty accomplishments and the moral obligations that determined one’s conduct, Margaret was acknowledging the importance of this third strand of her education plan in promoting goodwill in company as well as all the other benefits to society that pleasing female talents could bring. She thought Caroline still not graceful enough in her demeanour and advised her to practise daily her ‘attitudes’, the same that Horatio Nelson’s mistress Emma Hamilton had made fashionable. These were pieces of pantomime, in which a lady, usually dressed as a figure of classical history or mythology, entertained a private assembly by putting her gracefulness on display. For Margaret, these were yet another education tool: they taught grace and bearing. Caroline was also exhorted to read aloud in her room each morning to get rid of her habit of stuttering.100 As for George, she wished that he would be less cautious and guarded and that he would throw all his stiffness aside and become again the ‘natural, good humoured, lively, unaffected boy’ that he was. She reminded him of ‘the charms of what the French call le naturel’.101 By their sixteenth birthday Caroline and George were both fully aware of the benefits that had been bestowed on them and towards the end of the year paid tribute to their mother in a birthday letter: Dear Mama, Again we behold the anniversary of your Birth-Day with equal delight and heart-felt joy. And again all the thoughts which this day annually recalls are presented to our minds. This day we look back on past childhood and contemplate with gratitude and pleasure greater than words can express the tender cares of an affectionate Mother, who has watched continually in our infancy both on our education

100 The Golden Age and health. Oh, how good is that Mother, and what do we not owe to her. Ah! surely we have enjoyed advantages, greater than any children were blessed with in their education. But if we possess them at the same time we acknowledge them with the utmost gratitude and will always endeavour by care and application to profit by the good education and the excellent precepts that are [page torn].102 Margaret ended her education journal on 25 December 1807, the day the twins took their first Communion and the one that marked their transition to adulthood. This was an important milestone, and one that Margaret prepared them for thoroughly, by having them read one of the most popular British works in the eighteenth century, William Vickers’s A Companion to the Altar (1748), as well as a French work used by Genlis’s baronne d’Almane, ‘Traité sur les quatre dernières fins de l’homme’ (‘Treatise on the Four Last Ends of Man’), taken from the fourth volume of Pierre Nicole’s Essais de morale (1678). She had already given Caroline proof of her new station as an adult on her sixteenth birthday (as had the baronne d’Almane to Adèle)103 by refurbishing her room, giving her a personal servant and a quantity of jewellery and granting her an allowance of twenty-five guineas a year, out of which she was to provide for her small personal needs, keeping back a portion for charity. They now really take their rank in society, become responsible for their own actions and conduct, and will I trust be the most delightful society to me, and take a part in the interests and general concerns of the family. From this day they will I hope require no other government than that of their own reason […] We shall I flatter myself ever be the tenderest and dearest of friends; […] in me they will always find an indulgent guide; in them I hope to find all my comfort. Have I not been labouring many years, in order to form two human beings according to my own ideas and principles, that I might possess two friends whom I would love and esteem with all the energy of my natural disposition?104 Thus the years of formal education, from five to sixteen, were over. These twelve years Margaret viewed as a time of innocence and purity, where duty and happiness intersected in the cause of education. ‘During the whole course of your education, our lives resembled, and very exactly, the description of the Golden Age’, she told George.105

Notes 1 2 3 4 5

GRC to MC, 26 February 1809, Ch.Ch. Le Mercure de France, April 1782, p. 68. MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1803, p. 152. See Grenby, The Child Reader, pp. 123–24. ‘Épître dédicatoire à Madame Chinnery’, in Madame de Maintenon, pp. v–vi.

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6 Published anonymously in 1792, it went through fifteen editions by 1806. Rogers was a generous Chinnery family friend. When Caroline was ill with whooping cough in 1811, he allowed her to stay in his mansion overlooking Green Park in London. 7 The earliest was the Mercure de France, April 1782, p. 59, the most recent Gillian Dow, in the 2016 reprint of her 2007 edition of Adelaide and Theodore, p. xiii. 8 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1803, p. 153. 9 Vigée Le Brun, p. 676. 10 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 3 September 1804, p. 156. 11 Ibid., 7 September 1804, p. 64. 12 Ibid., 3 September 1804, p. 157; Adèle et Théodore, III, 527. 13 MC’s Journal, Book 1 (priv. coll. James Paul). 14 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 24 February 1804, p. 60. 15 Ibid., 3 September 1804, p. 156. 16 Remnant of a juvenile play, Fisher 2000–3/1. 17 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 1 April 1805, p. 87. 18 Ibid., 22 April 1805, p. 88. 19 Ibid., 29 April 1805, p. 89. 20 Repton carried out unspecified work on the Gillwell grounds in c.1803, and William paid him ten guineas on 19 October 1805 (WBC’s Drummonds’ Account, DR/427/189, fol. 105). 21 Samuel Rogers to WBC, 31 August c.1806, Fisher 2000–19/8. 22 ‘Palais de l’Esperance’ [n.d.], PHM 94/1/143–24/6. 23 Macaulay, p. 36. 24 Baillie, p. vii. 25 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 14 November and 21 November 1803, pp. 30, 31. 26 Ibid., 7 September 1804, p. 64. 27 Ibid., 17 February 1804, p. 59. 28 Ibid., 7 September 1804, p. 64. 29 Ibid., 20 September 1804, p. 67. 30 Ibid., 26 February 1804, pp. 61, 63. 31 Ibid., 6 December 1803, pp. 37–38. 32 Ibid., 9 October 1803, p. 20. 33 Locke, Concerning Education, p. 65. 34 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 7 February 1804, pp. 56–57. 35 Ibid., 12 September 1803, p. 11. 36 Genlis, New Method of Instruction, p. 76. 37 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 26 November 1803, p. 33–34. 38 Elwin is listed at 25 and 26 Sloane Street in Boyle’s […] Guide (1800). Like John Soane, he may have used one of the houses to display his collection. 39 See Jenkins, p. 450. 40 Watkin and Hewat-Jaboor, eds, chapter 2. 41 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 26 November 1803, p. 33. 42 Cited in Gordon, p. 18. 43 Cited in Watkin and Hewat-Jaboor, eds, p. 108. 44 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 26 November 1803, p. 33. 45 ‘Souvenirs’ [n.d.], in French, PHM 94/143/1–19. Two more commonplace books have surfaced in the private collection of James Paul, one belonging to Margaret and one to Caroline. 46 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 4 May 1805, p. 91. 47 Le Mercure de France, April 1782, p. 67. 48 Locke, Concerning Education, p. 90. 49 Adèle et Théodore, I, 116–17. 50 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 6 December 1803, p. 38.

102 The Golden Age 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Ibid., 5 October 1803, p. 19. Adèle et Théodore, II, 115. MC’s Journal, Book 2, 8 December 1803, p. 39. Ibid. Ibid., 24 December 1803, p. 42. Adèle et Théodore, I, 296–97. MC’s Journal, Book 2, 4 December 1804, p. 77. In CC’s Journal, 1809 (PHM 94/143/1–22) there is an undated enclosure written at a younger age, in which an anguished Caroline pleads for forgiveness from her mother. 59 Monthly Review, May 1784, p. 338. 60 GRC’s ‘Reflections on New Year’s Day’ (copy), 1 January 1805, Osborn, item 3. 61 Ibid. 62 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 4 May 1805, p. 92. The opera theatre was then a venue of sociability (Hall-Witt, p. 4). 63 Adèle et Théodore, II, 224. 64 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 6 November 1804, pp. 157–58. 65 Trumpf’s Journal, December 1804–March 1805, Fisher 2000–48. 66 Ibid., 15 February 1805. 67 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 12 January 1807, p. 98. 68 Trumpf’s Journal, 21 January 1805. 69 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 122. 70 Trumpf’s Journal, 16 January 1805. 71 John Mullens to MC, 16 June 1807, Fisher 2000–5/6. 72 Monthly Review, May 1784, p. 338. 73 Pascoe Grenfell to MC, 16 January 1805, Fisher 2000–5/4. 74 Pascoe Grenfell to MC, 19 November 1804, Fisher 2000–5/3. 75 Robert Healy had recently published an account of a new way of supplying diving bells with fresh air (Universal Magazine of Knowledge and Pleasure, March 1803, pp. 184–86). 76 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 16 May 1805, p. 93. 77 Locke, Concerning Education, p. 70. 78 Greater London Council, XXXI, 302. 79 The diarist C.C.F. Greville wrote that although Luttrell was brilliant in general society, he was not capable of conducting a serious conversation (Greville Memoirs, I, 64). 80 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 9 March 1807, p. 105. 81 Ibid., 12 January 1807, p. 96. 82 Ibid., 24 January and 3 February 1807, pp. 101, 102. 83 Ibid., 21 July 1807, p. 113. 84 WRS to CC, 13 January 1811, Fisher 2000–35/8. 85 GRC to MC, 23 February 1810, Ch.Ch. 86 Gower, ed., I, 3–4. 87 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 18 April 1807, p. 106. 88 Examples are to be found in Spencer’s Poems (1811), pp. 216, 222. 89 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 18 April 1807,p. 109. 90 Edgeworth and Edgeworth, II, 528. 91 Ibid., p. 531. 92 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 16 January 1807, p. 99. 93 MC to GRC, 30 May 1808, Ch.Ch. 94 Diary of Joseph Farington, VII, 2698. See also Cambridge’s obituary in the Gentleman’s Magazine, August 1850, pp. 204−07. 95 Adolphus Frederick to MC, 22 December 1807, Fisher 2000–12/3.

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96 WBC to MC, c.26 January 1808, Ch.Ch., MS xlviii a. 42a, fol. 167. 97 Copy of letter, 6 February 1806, in MC’s Journal, Book 2, pp. 123–24. 98 The dedicatory letter is transcribed in full in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 90. 99 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 16 January 1807, pp. 98–99. 100 Ibid., 28 July 1807, p. 114. 101 Ibid. 102 GRC and CC to MC, 16 October [1807], Fisher 2000–7/2. 103 Adèle et Théodore, III, 264. 104 MC’s Journal, Book 2, 25 December 1807, pp. 119–20. 105 MC to GRC, 18 March 1808, Ch.Ch.

6

Oxford

It could be argued that a university education was outside the scope of Genlis’s Adèle et Théodore, of which the education plan aimed to direct a home education. In addition, educators in general believed that the years of formal instruction terminated at around the age of sixteen, when, for some British pupils, a university education was just beginning. On the face of it, both these objections are valid, yet the last pages of Adèle et Théodore, which present the ‘Course of reading undertaken by Adèle’, clearly show that not only did Genlis believe that education, in the form of reading, should be ongoing after the age of sixteen, but that even after the pupil had left the geographical sphere of influence of the educator, there persisted a remote influence, to wit, Adèle’s reading list after marriage. As a devoted disciple of Genlis, Margaret was a fervent believer in continuing education into adulthood. She herself was a living example of it. Indeed, her thinking on this issue is transparently clear in a letter she wrote to George in his second year at university. In praising the way George had spent his day, she remarked: If every day of a man’s life could be thus usefully employed how much he would have lived before the age of thirty! […] Every body complains of the shortness of human life, but few make any attempt to lengthen it; this is however very possible and may be done in many ways. A good education alone, adds twenty years to it! […] By a good education you know what I mean; by others I should fear being misunderstood.1 In other words, it was the useful employment of one’s time that extended and enriched a man’s life, and a good education meant doing this throughout life. Therefore, the years of childhood education might have been over for her twins, but Margaret did not stop teaching when they reached adulthood. If in the early years she had laid the groundwork, she now concentrated, still drawing on Genlisian precepts, on adding the finishing touches. In George’s case, this consisted of all the various factors (a knowledge of human nature, comportment in society, worldly wisdom), which would contribute to her end goal, which was to have George enter parliament. She

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-7

Oxford  105 was aware, however, that although she had planted the seed, it was up to her pupil to make it grow. The first letter to George contained the following observation. You, for want of experience, cannot at present appreciate justly your early education, that which you have received from your cradle to the present period! But as you advance in years you will by reflection and observation feel the value of it, and whatever may be your future excellence, you will then say, “the groundwork was well laid; the foundations were fixed and immoveable before I left my mother. Time and future study have only made those seeds to germinate which she had sown.” This is true. I have put into your head more knowledge and more ideas than you are aware of, because you have never yet called them into action, but you will find them at hand when occasion calls for them.2 The above is a clear example of the eighteenth-century thinking deriving from Locke, that the young human mind was a tabula rasa lying ready for the educator to imprint on it all the knowledge needed for him to grow into a wise and useful man. The analogy with plants was a common one. In the Spectator Addison warned ‘how very seldom […] these moral seeds produce the noble fruits which might be expected of them’.3 Margaret, however, would not countenance failure, and her letters show just how determined she was to cultivate perfection in her children. The early praise that George elicited from Dean Cyril Jackson on his arrival at Christ Church College, spurred her to write, ‘you are now paying me back all you owe me, and if you go on so, I shall soon find myself your debtor!’4 If the refrain of Margaret’s education journal was self-command, that of the Oxford letters was civility, prudence, fortitude, temperance and manliness. She encouraged George to seek out good company and to practise the arts of sociability, of letter-writing and of conversation. (Caroline was given the same practice at home.) Most important of all was the practice of virtue, upon which all else rested. The separation from George at the age of sixteen was a wrench, but was necessary for the sake of his future career. Margaret wrote of her torn feelings to Genlis, with whom she had been in close correspondence during most of 1807. Genlis, who approved of the way Margaret had raised her children at home, seemed perplexed, asking her why George had to leave home, ‘where could he be better off?’5 Familiar though Genlis was with the educational principles of Locke, she did not, it seems, understand the reality of acquiring a liberal education in Britain. A liberal education formed gentlemen, and gentlemen made up the ruling classes. The British term ‘gentleman’ had no equivalent in any other European language. A liberal education was not something that could be got at home. It needed the imprimatur, the seal of authenticity, which came from only two universities, Cambridge and Oxford.

106 Oxford The college chosen for George at Oxford was the most prestigious of all, Christ Church, to which he was introduced by William Spencer. It was here, Margaret hoped, that George would make connections that would serve him well in the future. One of the attractions which Christ Church held for Margaret was the reputation of its head, Dean Cyril Jackson.6 It was well known that he had powerful government connections and also had the ear of the king. For a young man aspiring to public office, as George was,7 it was to his great advantage to find favour with Jackson, for Jackson, as Margaret was aware, acknowledged academic merit and rewarded his chosen sons with introductions which would not fail to launch their public career. It was Jackson’s habit to call all new arrivals to his study to converse with them while assessing their knowledge of the classics and of mathematics. George was honoured with four such conversations with the dean.8 In the third ‘he really gave me a lecture’ and ‘as he said himself we here and there entered into deep metaphysics; it was all reasoning’.9 However, while Jackson was indulgent towards his favourites, he would not tolerate any interference in College affairs from outsiders. Therefore, when Margaret visited Oxford in February 1808, the dean was displeased, saying to George, ‘Give my compliments to your mother, and tell her that whenever any parents or friends come down here they only serve to disturb, and that I desire she will not come again without my permission’.10 When the Duke of Cambridge visited Oxford shortly after, and asked after George, he was rebuffed. Margaret considered the dean’s behaviour churlish and had no intention of bowing out of George’s life. Henceforth she would be careful to conceal her involvement. With the help of Trumpf Margaret kept abreast of George’s classical studies, correcting his translations of the Greek and Latin authors as she had done after Mullens left Gillwell. She would have sent Trumpf to Oxford to assist him had not Dean Jackson long ago put an end to the practice of young men arriving in Oxford accompanied by personal tutors. Margaret also took it upon herself to correct George’s weekly themes (short, well-argued essays), the rough copy of which he sent home the moment it was drafted to allow time for her corrections and comments to reach him before the due date less than a week later. For the writing of themes Margaret recommended the essays in Addison’s Spectator. She judged them to be useful as models of form and style, as well as for their content.11 She thought that they gave a better picture of London at the turn of the eighteenth century, than did Genlis’s favourite, the memoirs of the marquis de Dangeau, of life at the court of Louis XIV in the seventeenth century.12 ‘Imagine to yourself’, she wrote, six or eight of the most distinguished men of that time, employed daily in watching the entertainments and manners of the people of so great a town as London, establishing themselves into a sort of public censors, lashing the follies of all ranks and stations, admiring what was good, and condemning what was bad in the daily occurrences, and rendering

Oxford  107 their criticisms not only palatable but delightful and attractive by the refined wit, and extensive learning with which they were reasoned!13 Margaret’s involvement in George’s studies was not restricted to term time. She had him continue studying throughout all the vacations, which were opportunities to push ahead with the prescribed Oxford texts, and to read more widely. From Gillwell Margaret directed the entire course of George’s education in Oxford, bowing to the counsel of others only when it could be shown to be superior to her own.

Criticism of Oxford Margaret was not unaware of the risks associated with an Oxford education, but she was taken aback by George’s first descriptions of College drunkenness, prompting the only spark of self-doubt to be found in her writings: I regret excessively that you should be there so much too soon […] because your progress in your various studies will I fear be retarded […] This is perhaps the only great fault I have made in planning and conducting your education.14 Throughout Margaret’s correspondence there runs a refrain comparing the purity and innocence of Gillwell with the dissipation and abandonment of Oxford mores. Like Genlis, she believed that it was weakness of character that caused such behaviour, and that this in turn was due to a poor early education.15 Such behaviour ran counter to the principles she had instilled in George from his earliest childhood, especially the importance of judgement, of which she wrote, ‘all the evils of life […] are the fruits of wrong judgement’.16 Because of her faith in the success of George’s early education she held no real fears that he might be contaminated by such displays of vice, provided he ‘be not guided by any other hand than mine’.17 She believed that the only proper conduct of life was one imbued with a habit of piety, and was dismayed ‘how little men of the world attend to these truths’.18 She was particularly shocked when George told her that one of the punishments for misbehaviour at Christ Church was confinement to Chapel. Is it not a gross instance of impiety to consider prayer as a mode of castigation! Nothing can be more irreligious and more shocking, than the principle which such a proceeding is calculated to inculcate. If, in the vows I daily and indeed almost hourly offer up to Heaven for you, there is one point upon which I am more urgent than the rest, it is, that you may ever feel that prayer is your highest, surest and best means of comfort! […] Ah! Dear George, never suffer the piety that characterized your childhood to grow cool in your heart! […] If this pure flame were ever to become extinguished in your soul, you would be deprived of the only true light, and neither your sentiments, principles or conduct,

108 Oxford would be marked by that dignified and uniform consistency, without which there is no real greatness.19 Margaret was critical of Oxford in other respects too. Her philosophy of education, which derived from Quintilian, Locke, Hamilton and others, was clearly at odds with Oxford’s, which was based on long-established tradition. Her Genlisian educational principles, founded on morality, on breadth of scope in reading, on a knowledge of the modern languages and on re-reading, were bound to clash with Oxford’s, where none of the above applied. Dissipation was rife, reading was in the main confined to the classics and mathematics, modern languages were absent from the curriculum and study consisted of cramming, with no time for re-reading or even a proper ‘digestion’ of the materials. Montaigne wrote of the importance of digestion in his essay ‘Of Pedantry’: ‘Of what service is it to us to have a belly full of meat, if it does not digest, if it does not change its form in our bodies, and if it does not nourish and strengthen us?’20 And in ‘Of the Education of Children’: ‘the stomach has not performed its offices, if it has not altered the figure and shape of what was committed to it for concoction’. 21 Soon after George’s arrival at Oxford Margaret wrote to his private tutor Charles Lloyd suggesting a reading list for him to follow. (What Lloyd made of this is not known.) The English, French, Italian and German works, which Margaret had George read as soon as he arrived at Oxford, were Lord Chesterfield’s Letters to his Son, 22 Milton’s Paradise Lost, Fénelon’s Aventures de Télémaque, Tasso’s La Gerusalemme liberate and four German volumes sent by Trumpf. 23 Margaret also drew George’s attention to any interesting novels, essays or useful books of parental advice that she happened to be reading herself, such as Madame de Staël’s Corinne, Addison’s Spectator and Lord Chatham’s Letters. All this was in addition to his reading for his College Collections, a viva voce examination in Greek and Latin works and in mathematics at the end of each term. Margaret wrote of Chatham’s Letters that some of them will bear reading several times, at different periods. Madme de Genlis observes of the generality of readers that, “pour les gens du monde, ils lisent quelquefois, mais ils ne relisent point” [men of the world sometimes read, but they do not re-read]. This is perfectly true, and yet it is the reading good works frequently, which alone can enable us to derive real instruction from them. 24 On the strength of Genlis’s remark, Margaret told George she intended that Caroline should ‘begin her whole course of reading over again by herself’.25 As an educationist Margaret was appalled by what she saw as the dilatoriness of George’s tutors. She believed in keeping pupils fully occupied, and was critical of the scant attention the tutors paid to their charges in

Oxford  109 their early years at Oxford. Until the time came for George’s first public examination at the end of his second year (1809), his public tutor William Corne never gave him more than half an hour’s tuition at a time, and that only rarely. In the second term of 1808 he did not see him at all. It was no wonder, she said, that some young men were idle and indulged in vice. For those without a solid foundation of moral principles and a firm focus on the future, Oxford was ‘a dangerous experiment’. In warning of ‘the danger of cultivating the mind, without attending to the principles of the heart’ she compared idle men to boats overburdened by too much sail. On the other hand, she wrote, ‘a well prepared and enlightened mind is like a noble ship which will come safely into harbour’. 26 As for George’s private tutor Lloyd, Margaret thought that he lacked method and that he should propose ‘some regular plan of study’.27 She was unhappy about the exclusive study Greek and mathematics, believing it to be unsound educational practice to study one subject to the exclusion of others. She thought that the modern languages would be ‘ten times more useful to you hereafter than Greek’. 28 Knowing George to be inexpert in writing Latin prose and verses, she thought Lloyd should help him develop this skill. He should also give George more help with his weekly themes. She believed that he neglected his duty by not pointing out George’s weaknesses in style, fluency and arguments:29 ‘What an odd thing for a private Tutor not to think of all these things himself’.30 She believed, like Genlis, that every piece of knowledge once gained could only be retained by reinforcement. ‘Mr Lloyd is a young man, and little versed in education, or he would know with how much facility thing are forgotten, which have cost great labours in acquiring’.31 One of Margaret’s favourite authors was the French seventeenth-century satirist Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux, whose Lutrin: Poème Héroï-Comique, she believed, could be applied to George’s situation at Oxford in that it ‘described the noble effects of a habit of piety on the life and actions of a man of the world, most admirably’.32 Margaret was of the same mind as her contemporary Sir William Jones, who, criticising poets’ servile imitation of the Ancients, asserted in his essay ‘On the Arts, commonly called Imitative’ that the finest parts of poetry were those expressive of the passions such as love and piety, which operated on our minds by sympathy and were not merely imitative or descriptive, as first proposed by Aristotle, and accepted unquestioningly ever since.33 In citing some lines from the sixth canto of the Lutrin addressed to the allegorical Piety, she commented, ‘Nothing can be more beautiful’.34 George cannot have failed to notice the analogy to himself, which was surely Margaret’s intention. Mais pourquoi vainement t’en retrace Why in vain retrace the picture? l’image? Tu le connois assez; Ariste est ton You know him well enough; ouvrage. Aristus is your own work.

110 Oxford C’est Toi qui le forma dès ses plus jeunes ans: Son mérite sans tache est un de tes Présens.

It is you who formed him from his tenderest years: His spotless virtue is one of your gifts.35

The inseparability of virtue and education, enunciated by Locke and Fénelon, and taken up by almost every eighteenth-century education writer thereafter, was a principle that Margaret had made the cornerstone of her education philosophy. Locke was also responsible for the eighteenth-century belief, which Margaret relied on for the advancement of her projects for George, that gentility (or what Locke called ‘breeding’) owed more to education than to birth.36 Margaret was keenly aware of the comparatively low rung of the social ladder which her family occupied. Her husband, a chief clerk in the British Treasury, was an untitled civil servant possessing no inherited wealth. The family property Gillwell was a very small one compared to the vast estates of the nobility which brought in lucrative rents. Therefore, George’s future success in life depended on his reputation at Oxford, ‘which is to supply the want of high birth, and fortune’.37 As Locke wrote of a would-be young gentleman, ‘of good breeding, knowledge of the world, virtue, industry, and a love of reputation, he cannot have too much’.38 Margaret felt that her methods of education had been vindicated whenever George received marks of favour from members of the aristocracy, such as invitations from Spencer’s father Lord Charles at Wheatfield and his uncle, the Duke of Marlborough at Blenheim: ‘it is a flattering mark of attention from persons of the highest rank to a young man, whose sole dependence is, his personal merit’.39 She wrote that there was ‘no real superiority in the world but that of intellect, and that that is irresistible’.40 Yet it was still more important for him to retain his purity of character, for ‘Goodness added to distinguished talents will never fail to acquire the most extensive and solid empire over men’.41 Much as she respected persons of high social standing, she held that in society all should be equal, ‘and where this is not allowed to be so, society becomes cold and dull’. Gentlemen, she maintained, should all be on an equal footing, giving way only to age and merit and ‘yielding to nobility [only] when nobility are silly enough to avail themselves of so poor an advantage’.42 In these thoughts Margaret could have been following the words of Vicesimus Knox, who wrote in his Liberal Education that ‘the possession of an elegant mind is greatly superior to the possession of a fortune’ but that ‘goodness of heart is superior to intellectual excellence’.43 Margaret drove George to study hard. Not a minute of the day had been wasted at Gillwell, and not a minute was to be wasted at Oxford (‘I beseech you continue to count your minutes’).44 The leitmotif running through her entire correspondence with George was ‘Time is the great instrument’.45 Your time is your wealth and your nobility, which means, that it depends upon the use you make of your time now, whether you shall

Oxford  111 hereafter enjoy wealth, or possess only a bare means of existence; whether you shall be an obscure individual unknown and unmarked, or shine in the first circles, an ornament to society and a valuable citizen of the state! These two important results depend upon the use you make of your hours and minutes now.46 Margaret assured George that writing to her every day was not a waste of time: ‘The constant and daily practice of giving an account of all you say and do, of the principal events in which you are engaged, and the employment of your own time, will hereafter be of essential service to you’.47 She reminded him that his writing summaries (which Genlis and Margaret both called ‘extracts’) of all that he had read as a child was good preparation for this. She insisted that George divide his day into sections and allot a fixed period for each occupation. The early morning, she told him, was the best time for the study of mathematics or working out the arguments for his themes. ‘There is an elasticity a freshness in the mind of a morning, which you should regard as sacredly due to your most important studies’, she wrote.48 Therefore, he was to rise early and fit in a maximum amount of study before Chapel at eight. Each period of study was to follow the next in quick succession. It was necessary to be precise to the minute, owing to the enormous number of interruptions caused by college activities in which the young men were expected to participate, such as daily Chapel services (sometimes twice a day), wine parties, suppers, dinners, even breakfasts, not to mention all the sports on offer, which Margaret advised George to eschew. She made him keep a journal, in which he was to write down the time he spent on each activity and which was to be sent home the following day. He was to write in French to Caroline, so that she could correct him. He was to practise dancing when alone in his room. He was to learn passages of authors by heart. But he was never to let Charles Grenfell or anyone else know he did all this. He must always be indulgent to others, never feel superior. Nor was he to affect singularity,49 for this would be one of those ‘gross absurdities’, caused by a deviation from nature, good sense and therefore taste, according to Quintilian. 50 George’s journals, or ‘plans of day’ continued right through his Oxford career, and Margaret scrutinised every one, writing in George’s final year at university, ‘I always read your diary with the avidity a fashionable lady would devour the pages of a new novel!’51 They drew approbation or criticism according to whether Margaret believed he was making wise use of his time or not. Margaret sent George her own plan de journée, which shows an undiminished habit of regularity. It also shows that she was continuing the education of the little girls Margaret and Matilda, as well as singing lessons for Caroline. William Spencer, who was an enthusiastic participator in Margaret’s evening readings, was by then living at Gillwell for increasingly long periods.

112 Oxford Breakfast in my study, finished by 9.30 am. 9.30am–11.00am farm] accounts.

Read, write to George, or settle [household and

11.00am–12.00pm

Hear Margaret and Matilda read Sethos.

12.00pm–1.30pm Make household arrangements with Mrs McKeone [the cook] and Parish [the farm manager]. Walk. 1.30pm–2.30pm

Give Caroline her singing lesson.

2.30pm–3.30pm Correct George’s theme or attend to some other Oxford work of his. Twice a week give Matilda piano lessons. 3.30pm

Dinner.

After dinner Correct Matilda’s and Margaret’s translations and hear their lessons. Read alone if Spencer is not at Gillwell. 9.00pm–10.00pm Caroline comes to my study and we read together [Marguerite de Lussan’s] Les Anecdotes de la cour de Philippe-Auguste. If Spencer is at Gillwell Caroline comes earlier and we read either Boileau or Shakespeare.52 Given Margaret’s warm praise of it only one week previously, the Boileau work read at Gillwell at this time was probably his Lutrin (see above). When George was invited to join a debating set, Margaret worried that he was unequal to the task of debating with noblemen who were three to five years older than him, and, afraid of his making a poor showing in the public arena, she redoubled her exertions, keeping by her a copy of Vicesimus Knox’s Elegant Extracts (1794), which contained passages of prose useful to classical scholars in the art of speaking. She also searched in Addison, Blackstone, Bacon, Montaigne, Montesquieu and Shakespeare for quotes that would serve for debates, and also for theme writing. George’s industry was matched only by her own. In preparation for his Collections and for his university examinations Margaret exhorted George to practise his speaking skills for half an hour daily. After finishing whatever it was that he was reading at the time – a Greek play, some Latin verse, English history, French, German or Italian plays or novels, or even the newspaper – he was to lay aside the piece in question, spend a few moments collecting his thoughts, then repeat aloud the main points of what he had just read, paying particular attention to diction, expression and clarity. Then he was to connect these points into sentences and finally amplify them. An adjunct to this exercise was to get

Oxford  113 some Greek, Latin, English, French or Italian verses by heart and recite them aloud when alone in his room – a soliloquy from Shakespeare’s Henry VIII, an ode of Anacreon or some verse by Pope. These two exercises, she explained, would be useful in his viva voce examinations: ‘the one will sharpen your mind, and give you a habit of recollection, and the other will furnish you with a choice and a flow of words’.53 In his Institutes of Eloquence Quintilian describes an almost identical exercise for the would-be orator, adding that if a boy can do this, he is equal to any study: As to poetry, let him first analyse the lines, then explain them in other words, and then give a free paraphrase of them, in which he is at liberty to contract or enlarge as he sees proper, provided he keeps to the sense of the poet.54 The other thing George must do was keep a commonplace book. As David Allan has pointed out in his Commonplace Books and Reading in Georgian England, commonplacing meant many things to many people in the eighteenth century.55 Margaret was precise in her definition. She specified that it must be ‘along the lines of Bacon’.56 Bacon’s aim in keeping a commonplace book was to discover and recover ideas and phrases. It enabled the keeper to arrange and classify knowledge, to aid his memory and to improve his invention and judgement. Convinced by Bacon’s argument, Margaret advised George, time and again, to bring his mind into play when studying, and if some original thought, comparison or remark occurred to him he should immediately write it down in his commonplace book, just as it came to mind, without wasting time on arranging his thoughts properly. Arrangement could be done later.57 Margaret was surely thinking of Bacon’s Advancement of Learning, where he writes ‘I hold the entry of common-places to be a matter of great use and essence in studying; as that which assureth copie of invention, and contracteth judgement to a strength’.58 She thought that the contents of a commonplace book might be employed with effect in the writing of themes, in debates, or simply to dazzle a drawing room with remembered quotes, but that it would be especially useful for his viva voce examinations, when ideas could be recovered easily and quickly. Most importantly, Margaret taught George and Caroline to think for themselves and to exercise critical judgement both in private reading and in public living: ‘There is nothing which should be so much cultivated in children as the faculty of judgement’ she told George in 1808, 59 and again in 1809: ‘Never do anything from timidity or any other low and base motive, but as Cicero says to Curio, take counsel of your own judgement’.60 She decried those who were slaves to public opinion: Every man (to use a very vulgar expression) should stand upon his own bottom in the world; if he has not bottom enough, or, in other words, if he be deficient in strength and energy of mind, he is a poor weak

114 Oxford creature that must cling for support to every object around him. Such a one will vary his character as the cameleon [sic] does it’s [sic] colours. He will be every thing, and therefore nothing. Of these men common societies are in a great measure formed. They are such convenient beings, always ready to do what others do.61 This teaching stood George in good stead when, inevitably, he was teased by some of the ‘idle fellows’ for being too studious.62 He dealt with it in a remarkably mature fashion, especially considering that he was several years younger than his tormentors. Yet George was well-liked and respected at Christ Church and moreover, was a favourite of the dean. Margaret concluded that the malice was born of envy: ‘Remember dear George, that every kind of merit brings with it a proportion of inconvenience arising from the malevolence of the world’.63

Margaret’s ambition The Oxford Chinnery correspondence reveals Margaret’s ambition as none of her other writings do. It is in the Oxford letters that we gain an understanding of her deep-seated eighteenth-century belief that children were their educator’s ‘work’, that she, as their mother-educator was the person responsible for their success in life and that any esteem, reputation or what she liked to call in George’s case, ‘glory’, that they ultimately achieved was a reflection of her own success as an educator. Margaret’s ultimate aim was that George should enter parliament, and, as she told him so often, he should strive to distinguish himself in his studies, in order to earn the esteem of his peers and his superiors. In spite of all the obstacles, George did so. His reputation as a scholar grew yearly, and once his seniority in College was established, he was allowed to proceed with his studious habits unmolested. He distinguished himself at the end of each term in his Collections, and in spite of his tutors’ failings, he passed his first public examination with flying colours. Yet Margaret began to be anxious for some form of public recognition, and in her anxiety she assailed George with what he called her ‘letters of admonition’. These were highly critical letters taxing George with wasting time, with unmethodical study habits and even with ingratitude. It was thanks to her efforts, she told him, that he had acquired an early and brilliant reputation. Her frustration is evident in the double underlining of the words she wished to stress. You ought to be the cleverest man of your time […] You have been watched with very uncommon care! […] Take care, my dear George, it will be a misfortune to you, to have been educated by me, if you are not the first man of the age in which you live!64 The cause of Margaret’s outbursts is easy to detect. She was frustrated by seeing her designs for George thwarted, by the possibility of George not

Oxford  115 knowing ‘perfectly’ what he was to be examined in,65 by the delay in some tangible form of public recognition, by Oxford not living up to her expectations (‘It is a poor and miserable place for the promotion of learning!’).66 But there was another reason for Margaret’s impatience to see some reward for George’s industry. It was that she intended to follow in Genlis’s footsteps and publish ‘the whole plan and course of your education’.67 Margaret’s reputation as an education authority was already acknowledged in society. She had long been pressed by all who knew her to publish her education method. You must therefore my dear George be prepared to see people look up to you for very superior abilities and information. You must justify the general expectation of my book, you will be the hero […] [It will take two years to write] and in the course of that time you must labour to realise my fondest hopes, and give lustre and efficacy to my precepts.68 Caroline was to be the second exemplar. Praising the rapid progress of her mind, Margaret opined that Caroline would become ‘the first female character of the age […] if it pleases God to grant her health and strength’.69 Caroline herself was planning to publish some of her poetry, and the numbering on her manuscripts show that she was advanced in her preparation.70 However, neither publication came to fruition owing to the tragic events that overtook the family in 1812. The Oxford letters are the only witnesses to these projects. George received his mother’s unjust accusations with forbearance. Inevitably, after such outbursts Margaret back-pedalled, on one occasion acknowledging the ‘strong thrust’ of her letter but excusing it on the grounds that her burning ambition for the success of her children was selfless. (‘All I say, do, write and think, is for you and your other half, dear Caroline! I have long ceased to exist for myself’.)71 In a telling indication of how seriously Margaret took her role as a woman-influencer-for-the-good, she wrote: ‘There is a slight tincture of the Roman matron in my composition  […] I must acknowledge that I feel, how extremely the joys of maternity are heightened, by the fame and glory of a son!’72 In another letter Margaret wrote that she had constituted herself ‘the watchful and jealous guardian of your future glory and happiness’, and that she hoped that George would not think of her ‘as the fiery dragon’, but ‘recollect that I am guarding the golden fleece!’73 In the late eighteenth-century in Britain there was a fascination with Roman matrons74 as potent political symbols for the defence of the realm against the de-civilising influences of the French Revolution. Contemporary education writers equated ancien régime degeneracy with the decline of the Roman Republic and nominated women to be the defenders of virtue.75 Margaret was familiar with the Roman histories of Gibbon, of Montesquieu, of Laurence Échard, of Charles Rollin and with Elizabeth Hamilton’s Memoirs of the Life of Agrippina, all of which were in the Chinnery library and all of which depicted the Roman matron as

116 Oxford a virtuous and zealous defender of the state and of her menfolk. It was Elizabeth Hamilton’s harnessing the symbol to the cause of education, however, which had the strongest impact on her, and which was her inspiration for the above words. In her Life of Agrippina Hamilton writes: Taught to place her glory in the faithful discharge of the domestic and maternal duties, a Roman matron imperceptibly acquired an elevation of sentiment, a dignity of manners, which rendered her equally the object of esteem and respect. Her country was no less dear to her than to her husband; but the same spirit of patriotism which impelled him to exert his valour in the field, or his wisdom in the senate, animated her mind in the instruction of her children, and the regulation of her family. Superior to every puerile pursuit, the only object of her ambition was an increase in the fame and glory of her race.76 And, still on the subject of the Roman matron: The love of fame was in her opinion the highest principle that could ennoble the human mind. […] the approbation of the world was in her estimation the sole reward of virtue. This approbation, when given to great achievements, had the name glory; and glory was the god of her idolatry.77 ‘Glory’ was the catch-cry of Margaret’s correspondence with George. She invoked it when criticising Dean Jackson and Oxford: The Dean puts himself into a passion if the men go one night to a Ball, but they may be idle a whole term with impunity! In short my dear George without “that strong divinity of soul” that decided and irresistible vocation to glory, which in spite of all obstructions, calls out, perhaps once or twice in a century, a bold and original genius from the head of scholars and academical literati, there is no chance of a young man’s doing any good at Oxford!’78 She invoked it when she believed that the Studentship (scholarship) she coveted for George was slipping away from her: ‘It is time now my dear George that you were in love with Glory’.79 She told him that if she were a young man of seventeen ‘every thing would be insipid to me but glory’.80 In fact her exhortations were so insistent that George was moved to respond with a smile that henceforth his cry would be ‘My mother and glory’.81 On Margaret’s own admission she was a perfectionist. (‘You know how my heart pants after perfection in you!’),82 so it was fortunate that George did win the coveted Studentship, which Margaret described as his first step towards a brilliant future: ‘The greatest difficulties are overcome, you have gained a title to general esteem, and you have in this respect done the work

Oxford  117 of half a life already!’ By ‘difficulties’, Margaret meant ‘the trials and temptations that stood in the way’. George had proved that he had not strayed from the Christian path: ‘You are good, you are pure, you are religious, and he visibly protects and guides you!’83 The Studentship was awarded not by Jackson but by the new Dean of Christ Church, Charles Hall, who truly appreciated George’s qualities and who would become a firm friend and future supporter. In 1809 George had also submitted an entry for the Newdigate English Verse Prize. The English Verse Prize was a stiffly contested one, and of the four Oxford prizes it brought the greatest honour. The winning verses and essays were read aloud by their authors in the Sheldonian Theatre at the Commemoration of Founders and Benefactors held in the first week of July each year. Margaret had encouraged George to participate in this competition for two reasons – as an intellectual exercise and as part of his quest for public glory. She was therefore all the more horrified by the University’s entertaining the idea that year of abolishing the above custom. (It did not come to pass.) The news drew her most trenchant criticism of Oxford to date. Not only was it foolish, she claimed, to remove the only strong incentive the University offered to its competitive members, it was also unfair to deprive the most deserving men of their right to public recognition. Not allowing the winners their moment of glory ran counter to her belief in putting merit on public display. A man’s brilliant reputation at university was a ‘predisposal of the public opinion in his favour’, which would greatly promote his success later in life.84 In her opinion there was a far more pressing need for University reform in other areas, such as the curriculum, which she said was hopelessly anachronistic. Here Margaret’s forward thinking is evident. She pre-empts the great reforms which were to take place at Oxford later in the century, and indeed defines the purpose of a university education in a remarkably modern way. For what real use is it to men in the world to be able to make Latin verses, or to be so profoundly conversant with every greek idiom, and the etymology of every greek word? If there be no use for these things at College, it must be granted that a more reasonable quantity of greek and latin would enable men to read and enjoy the best authors in those languages, and to form their taste upon these fine models; while a portion of the students’ time might be devoted to the acquirement of such knowledge as he will most certainly want in the world. Young men might then bring away from college, a knowledge of the laws of their country; and a general acquaintance with political economy; besides other information of which they are sure to stand woefully in need, as soon as they set their foot in the world, and begin their career of life.85 Margaret intended putting the above thoughts into action when George completed his degree. She planned to set him on a course of reading which

118 Oxford would cover law, political economy, the history of England and Europe and all those works of European literature which he had not had time to read at Oxford, the same that Genlis advocated at the end of Adèle et Théodore for the rounding off of a young gentleman’s education.86 The whole would be capped by a year-long tour of the continent, but no mere dilettante tour, of the sort that finished every young graduate’s education. George’s travels were to be a continued learning experience, what Genlis called ‘voyager avec fruit’ (travelling fruitfully).87 All these strands of knowledge would converge into the bigger picture that was current affairs. George needed to be au fait with what was going on around him. But first he must study the literature and works of art of past centuries. She was quoting Madame de Staël, she said, when she told him that a young man must ‘acquaint himself intimately with those that are gone before him’.88 This was a reference to Staël’s De la Littérature, the general tenor of which is that the great artists and thinkers of each epoch built, to their advantage, on those who went before.89 Although George did not win the Newdigate Prize in 1809, his tutor Corne was confident that he would win it the following year. This, coupled with George’s brilliant performance in his first public examination, led Margaret to reflect on the way she had conducted the twins’ early education. The key to his success in his viva voce examination, she believed, had been self-possession. This invaluable talent, she wrote, was ‘one you have hitherto possessed admirably, and one I cultivated in you with particular care, as being essential to the effect of all your efforts in public life’.90 George’s father, who happened to be in Oxford at the time of the examination, confirmed what Margaret said. George had been ‘perfectly cool and possessed himself entirely which was of the utmost use to him’. He was the only man of whom the examining Masters made any Eulogium at all, but they both stood up one after the other and before all the young men present and expressed their particular approbation of his abilities both in the Sciences and in the Classics.91 By the end of 1809 George had earned himself not only a strong academic reputation, but also one of upright character and gentle manners. Edmund Goodenough, George’s logic lecturer, told Viotti that George’s good nature, his morals and his willingness to be instructed were commendable.92 And Richard Jenkyns, one of George’s examining masters, praised his bearing and conduct, saying that ‘not only was he clever, but there was a gentlemanlike manner about him […] with which I was very much struck’.93 That George had earned the esteem of his superiors at Oxford by the end of 1809 is also shown by the large number of private dinner invitations that he received from them. Even Charles Lloyd, who had by then classed George among his brighter pupils, included him in special celebratory dinners. Margaret’s insistence on manners and modesty, as well as academic rigour, was paying dividends.

Oxford 119

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

MC to GRC, 9 November 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 14 January 1808, Ch.Ch. Spectator, 12 August 1712. MC to GRC, 26 January 1808, Ch.Ch. Genlis to MC, 25 January 1808, in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 131. Cyril Jackson (1746–1819) was a former sub-preceptor to the Prince of Wales. GRC to MC, 25 January 1808, Ch.Ch. These were of the sort cited by Cohen in ‘“Familiar Conversation”’, p. 107. GRC to MC, 27 January 1808, Ch.Ch. Reported in GRC to MC, 10 February 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 18 February 1808, Ch.Ch. Philippe de Courcillon, Journal de la Cour de Louis XIV, depuis 1684 jusqu’à 1715 (1770). MC to GRC, 19 January 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 25 January 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 27 January 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 21 January 1808, Ch.Ch., MS xlviii a. 43, fol. 164. Ibid., fol. 165. MC to GRC, 16 February 1809, Ch.Ch. Ibid. Montaigne, I, 146–47. Ibid., p. 164. Chesterfield’s system of education had at its heart the principle of exquisite politeness, of which Margaret approved, but it also contained some foolish foppish advice, and she soon turned away from it. GRC to MC, 19 February 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 26 January 1808, Ch.Ch. Ibid. MC to GRC, 25 May 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 17 February 1808, Ch.Ch. Ibid. MC to GRC, 26 February 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 17 February 1808, Ch.Ch. Ibid. MC to GRC, 16 February 1809, Ch.Ch. Jones, pp. 191, 207. MC to GRC, 16 February 1809, Ch.Ch. Boileau-Despréaux, p. 226. Locke, Concerning Education, p. 32. MC to GRC, 17 November 1808, Ch.Ch. Locke, Concerning Education, p. 102. MC to GRC, 3 May 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 30 November 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 15 March 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 25 June 1808, Ch.Ch. Knox, pp. 3, 9. MC to GRC, 23 January 1808, Ch.Ch. Ibid. MC to GRC, 9 March 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 19 February 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 28 February 1810, Ch.Ch.

120 Oxford 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93

MC to GRC, 23 January 1808, Ch.Ch. Quintilian, I, 223. MC to GRC, 23 May 1811, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 23 February 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 15 February 1809, Ch.Ch. Quintilian, I, 40–41. Allan, pp. 25–34. MC to GRC, 17 February 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 28 February 1810, Ch.Ch. Robertson, ed., Works, p. 120. No works by Bacon are on the Christie sale catalogue, probably because they were not the property of William Chinnery, but of Margaret. MC to GRC, 26 January 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 15 May 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 26 January 1809, Ch.Ch. GRC to MC, 25 June 1811, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 7 June 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 17 February 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 26 January 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 7 May 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 17 February 1809, Ch.Ch. Ibid. Ibid. The numbers are written in pencil at the top of each poem (Chinnery poetry, Osborn fd. 11). MC to GRC, 2 March 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 14 February 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 2 March 1809, Ch.Ch. The golden fleece is a metaphor for the rewards that will come George’s way once he has achieved public recognition: perhaps a reference to Margaret’s projected book, or perhaps a promise of using her influence to acquire patronage for him. See O’Brien, Women and Enlightenment, pp. 113–16; Hicks, pp. 35–69. More, I, 82–83. Hamilton, Life of Agrippina, I, 18–19. Ibid., II, 40. MC to GRC, 7 March 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 10 May 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 12 May 1809, Ch.Ch. GRC to MC, 14 May 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 20 February 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 10 December 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 8 June 1809, Ch.Ch. Ibid. Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, III, 532. Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, II, 188. MC to GRC, 19 November 1809, Ch.Ch. Staël, De la Littérature, I, 105. MC to GRC, 27 October 1809, Ch.Ch. WBC to MC, [27 October 1809], Ch.Ch., MS xlviii a. 48, fol. 91. Reported in MC to GRC, 10 May 1809, Ch.Ch. Reported in GRC to MC, 19 November 1809, Ch.Ch.

7

Caroline grown up

While George was at Oxford, Caroline continued her education at home, and many of the authors that she read for enjoyment in these years were the same as those read by Adèle d’Almane after the age of sixteen: Shakespeare, Locke, Pope, Thomson,1 Milton, Hume and Addison’s Spectator. During 1808 Margaret began her daughter’s studies of the classics with a reading of the Greek tragedies: ‘Caroline reads every morning with her Potter’s translations of the Greek plays. She is presently reading the Prometheus of Eschylus’. 2 In June she read Euripides’s Hippolytus. Her other 1808 studies included the same subjects that Margaret had George study during his vacation periods, history and law. She read from Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England, from Hume’s History of England (‘Reigns of Charles I, Commonwealth, Charles II and James II’) and Fox’s History of the Early Part of the Reign of James the Second (1808). Margaret believed that Fox’s work was ‘a very good commentary upon those reigns’3 but none of these histories of England met with her full approbation. She wrote that she was ‘vexed to think that nobody has yet written a really useful history of England’. All those written so far she described as ‘diffuse, and yet too concise’,4 referring no doubt in the first instance to the many ‘universal’ histories and in the second to those of a prescriptive nature such as Fox’s. The history books that Margaret owned, that is the ones named in the 1812 Christie’s sales catalogue as well as in her letters and in her education journal, included Hume’s History of England with Smollett’s continuation (13 vols), Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion and three in French, including the popular Histoire d’Angleterre by the French Huguenot author Paul Rapin de Thoyras, about whom Voltaire remarked that the British were beholden to a Frenchman for the best history of British affairs.5 Caroline’s ‘light reading’ for 1808 consisted of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and Julius Cæsar, and she was also reading ‘Milton with [William] Spencer, and some German with Mr Trumpf’.6 Caroline herself wrote that she was very much enjoying Paradise Lost.7

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-8

122  Caroline grown up

Caroline’s music compositions Although Caroline now possessed all the traditional female musical accomplishments – piano, harp and singing – Margaret herself continued to give her singing lessons, Viotti continued to prelude, or improvise, with her, and her composition teacher Maestro Bianchi was retained until the end of 1809. Margaret pushed her to advance deep into the science of music, traditionally a male preserve, and so, having studied accompaniment since the age of ten, Caroline was by the age of eighteen close to knowing all there was to know about the subject, according to Bianchi. In fact, the latter believed that by the end of his tuition she would have fulfilled all the requirements for a doctorate in music at the University of Oxford.8 Caroline’s knowledge of the science of music was rare for an amateur, and practically unheard of for a female amateur. It enabled her to set verses to music, and at the end of 1808 she wrote to George at Oxford that although she had not written any verse for a long time, she had not neglected all the Muses: I courted Euterpe lately, who received me graciously enough, and I implored her assistance in the composition of the Romances, which have met with approbation; the words are written by Mr Spencer, they are in the old french style, and some of them are really beautiful!!9 Margaret praised Caroline’s taste and wrote of her composition’s success before a party of houseguests, which included Spencer and Samuel Rogers: The evening was rendered delightful by Caroline singing three beautiful things she has composed very lately; they are properly Lays in the romance stile, the words in old french by Guglielmo [the Chinnerys’ pet name for Spencer], and set by your sister with admirable truth taste and beauty. Amico and every one feels surprised at her great success, – for really there is nothing of the imperfection of a first attempt in these pieces.10 Caroline also composed short pieces for playing in small private assemblies. At eighteen she composed a harp adagio, modelled on the style of Viotti, for her friend Lady Susan Dunmore, who was delighted with it and who played it at one of her London soirées musicales.11 On the last evening of the concerts at Lady Dunmore’s, Margaret wrote to George that his sister was ‘the chief object of universal attention during the whole evening’. Her success surpassed even Margaret’s expectations. On that evening I was fully repaid for all my care and vigilance in teaching her […] Indeed I often think that I am blessed far beyond any thing I could deserve in both my children! When this thought comes into my head, the tears always come into my eyes, tears of gratitude

Caroline grown up  123 towards heaven, and love towards both of you! But this feeling, so far from blinding me with regard to you, makes me redouble in vigilant attention, in scrupulous watchfulness, that my work may be as perfect as human nature will allow.12 Margaret’s seeking of perfection in her children might sound today to be a slightly obsessive notion. But her sources for this, as for so many of her other education ideas, were the Ancients. In Quintilian’s Institutes of Eloquence he notes that the Stoics required a wise man to be in every sense perfect. He explained that, like bees gathering pollen from a variety of flowers and herbs, so a man needed grounding in many of the arts to become a perfect orator. If even a little was wanting, he could not be perfect. He added that there was ‘nothing in [human] nature that renders perfection in eloquence unattainable; and it is shameful to despair, when it is possible to succeed’.13 Elizabeth Hamilton, who took her inspiration from the Scottish philosopher Dugald Stewart, went further, stating that ‘the greatest perfection of which our nature is susceptible, consists in exerting […] not one or two of the faculties with which Providence has endowed us, but the whole of these faculties’.14 This was also Kant’s thinking, for whom Bildung (moral education) required that the whole person be cultivated.15 Therefore, Margaret believed, as far as human nature would allow, the ideal of perfection could be extended across her entire educational endeavour. Near the end of her composition tuition under Maestro Bianchi, Caroline wrote a song entitled ‘O cara simplicità’, a hymn to simplicity, which she set to music.16 The poem, in Italian, celebrates simplicity as a route to happiness in life: ‘Senza te, felicità, | Non si trova in terra, no!’ (Without you, no happiness can be found on earth.) Since the pursuit of happiness was the Enlightenment’s major goal, indeed its very raison d’être, it was a subject that eighteenth-century educators came back to time and again. Simplicity was the antithesis of luxury, an idea better conveyed by the French word luxe, meaning over-indulgence or unseemly extravagance. For Genlis, simplicity was innocence. The ‘aimable innocence’17 of childhood, free of vice and affectation was a state to aspire to in adulthood. ‘Modest simplicity’ is a motif running right through Adèle et Théodore. For Hannah More simplicity was Christian restraint.18 For Macaulay, it was ‘a rational moderation’.19 She cites it when praising the heroes of the first Roman republic, before they were corrupted by power and luxury: ‘their manners were both simple and dignified’. 20 Quintilian himself decried the corruption that crept into the Latin language under Augustus and lamented that during his rule ‘amiable simplicity of style’ was considered a mark of dullness. Thus, he wrote, was ‘nature not only abandoned but despised’. 21 Elizabeth Hamilton and Henrietta Bowdler both praised simplicity in Miss Elizabeth Smith (of whom more below). Another author who wrote in praise of simplicity was the learned polyglot Sir William Jones. In explaining the chief object of a poet, musician or

124  Caroline grown up painter, he wrote that ‘a gaudy composition may strike the mind for a short time, but the beauties of simplicity are both more delightful, and more permanent’. 22 For Margaret, it was a rule that she applied to every facet of her own life and which she included in her lessons to her children: in manners (simple and natural), in reasoning (clear and concise), in speaking (ordered thought, avoiding convoluted turns of phrase), in writing (plain, unaffected prose), even in dress. When the Chinnerys received an invitation to the prince regent’s inauguration fête in June 1811 Margaret complained about the court dress that was de rigueur, especially the ostentatious multi-plumed head-dress that Caroline was obliged to wear, ‘she who never wore any thing but a flower from the garden in her hair!’23 In all of its manifestations simplicity was synonymous with that all-important quality good taste or common sense and more importantly, as Caroline wrote, was a prerequisite for happiness. When Trumpf left Gillwell at the beginning of 1809 Margaret told George that Caroline, then eighteen years old, would be henceforth responsible for her own educational advancement: ‘Caroline is refreshing her memory with regard to her knowledge of the Globes, and also in Arithmetic, after which she must bid Adieu to masters, and rely on her own exertions for further improvement’. 24 But she did not continue to study alone for long, as it was about this time that Margaret made the decision to employ her close friend the Honourable William Spencer to instruct Caroline in two subjects which were outside her level of expertise, prosody and Latin. Since 1807 this aristocratic but impecunious society poet, who, because of chronic debt was often without a home, had been extending his stays at Gillwell, sometimes to months at a time. It was during the period from 1808 to 1811 that his assistance with Caroline’s (and to a lesser extent George’s) education was greatest. When Margaret decided to place Caroline in the tutelage of such a prominent person, ‘when that person was a poet and possessed of much reputation as an author’, it was in the full knowledge that she risked having Caroline’s superior accomplishments attributed to his teaching rather than hers. 25 Just how much time Spencer invested in the twins’ education is clear in a later melancholy letter to Margaret, in which he regretted his neglect of his own children, ‘Had I attended for these last seven years as much to my children as I have done to yours, some of this mischief might probably have been prevented’. 26 Margaret was of the opinion that Caroline’s abilities were above average, and that they ‘deserved to be nourished with a knowledge of the Latin language’. 27 Spencer gave Caroline instruction in Latin, beginning with Juvenal, whenever he was at Gillwell, and when he was not he gave her instructions by letter. Like George, Caroline was now a diligent pupil, writing to Spencer on one occasion that she had been working hard at Horace, and that she had read ‘the whole of that Ode which you said was so difficult’. She also informed him that she was attempting to turn into English verse the Horace ode Æquam memento, which was not as easy as she had

Caroline grown up  125 imagined. 28 When Spencer read through her Latin verses he corrected not only her ‘Latinity’, but also her prosody and harmony. 29 Women’s education and how much they should know of subjects that were believed to be in the male domain, were controversial topics in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century. The intellectually gifted Elizabeth Smith (see below) thought in 1801 that ‘a woman must have uncommon sweetness of disposition and manners, to be forgiven for possessing superior talents and acquirements’, although she does go on to say that ‘It is not learning that is disliked in women, but the ignorance and vanity which generally accompany it’.30 This remark is validated by what Genlis wrote twenty years earlier in Adèle et Théodore, in speaking of one of her model characters: ‘The women pardon her talents and her beauty, on account of her modesty and simplicity’, and the men respect her, because she has not the slightest trace of vanity (‘coquetterie’).31 That a classical education in women was in 1810 still considered unusual and even eccentric, is shown by a letter from the seventy-year-old Sir William Weller Pepys, 32 a friend of Spencer, who exhorted him to advise Caroline to keep secret her classical learning, claiming it would prejudice prospective suitors against her. However, this view was beginning to be challenged. Just a few months earlier, a contributor to the Edinburgh Review had reviewed a book entitled Advice to Young Ladies on the Improvement of the Mind by Thomas Broadhurst, whose aim (‘a very laudable one’ according to the reviewer), was to recommend a better system of female education than at present prevails in this country – to turn the attention of women from the trifling pursuits to which they are now condemned and to cultivate faculties which, under the actual system of management, might almost as well not exist. The reviewer ridiculed the accepted notion that to give a woman some learning would cause her to ‘step out of the natural modesty of her sex’,33 which was certainly not a risk for Caroline, into whom Margaret had unceasingly drummed the virtues of humility and modesty. Spencer had clearly written to Sir William (letter missing), enclosing some Latin verse by Caroline, 34 offering to introduce him to his two remarkable friends, Mrs Chinnery and her talented daughter Caroline. Sir William replied to Spencer that he had no doubt that Caroline was ‘a very extraordinary Young Person’, But I am sure you will agree with me, that all things considered, your Knowledge of the World can not be better employ’d in Her Service, than in conjuring her to keep as secret as possible whatever Proficiency She may make in the learned Languages: I have heard the Generality of Men express themselves so strongly upon the Subject of a learned Wife, that how much soever I may delight in the Conversation of Women

126  Caroline grown up whose Minds have been early enrich’d by an Acquaintance with the Classics, the Experience of a long Life has convinc’d me, that it is very likely to create the greatest Prejudice against any young Woman; and as I cannot help feeling already a strong Interest in the future Welfare of your Friend, I must earnestly exhort you to use your Influence in prevailing upon Her to keep her Progress in Latin and Greek as great a Secret as possible: for, to hear men talk on that Subject, you would think, That Learning among Womankind Was deadliest Poison to the Mind; A Crime, which venial if conceal’d, (Like Theft at Sparta) when reveal’d The Guilty stamps with such Disgrace No Culprit dares to shew her Face.35 Pepys’s letter shows that there was still ongoing male bigotry towards women’s learning into the nineteenth century. Unfortunately, it is impossible to know whether Sir William’s prophesies would have been fulfilled, as Caroline did not live long enough for the effect of her learning on her marriage prospects to be judged. Up to the age of twenty she was certainly admired and feted in society for her musical attainments as well as her modesty. The second field in which Margaret put Spencer’s expertise to use was in improving and polishing Caroline’s verse-writing. As sixteen-year-olds, Caroline and George had both learned from Spencer the rules of versification and practised them in their poetic missives to family members and friends on their birthdays. Helped by Spencer, whose prolific and witty verses were inspired by everyday domestic occurrences and accompanied almost every letter he wrote, Caroline’s talent blossomed and she became adept at penning pithy poetic repartees and amusing epigrams. She also wrote pretty and learned verse inspired by the all-pervasive classical influences of the day, such as poetic inscriptions for garden pedestals and dedicatory verses. She addressed birthday verses to her mother, her father, her brother, Viotti, Spencer and to Princess Mary, favourite sister of the Duke of Cambridge, and as we have seen, she set some of them to music. (Margaret wrote on the cover of one such birthday poem ‘These verses were given to me by my dear Caroline Octbr 16 1809. She had not only made the verses, but had also set them to music!’36) Caroline wrote verse in five different languages and in all the different metres. One of her dedicatory poems to the Duke of Cambridge contained five four-lined stanzas, one each in Latin, French, Italian, German and English. 37 Spencer showed his uncle the Duke of Marlborough some of Caroline’s ‘pretty mithological verses’, and reported back to her that the duke was ‘more astonished and delighted with them than I ever saw him express for anything – he thinks the English particularly happy’. 38

Caroline grown up  127 There are several of Caroline’s poems in the Osborn collection at Yale University that show very clearly the influence of Spencer’s tuition. One is entitled an ‘Exercise on double rhymes’, 39 another, in Latin, on ‘Iambics and Sapphics’.40 Spencer himself wrote poems about his role of tutor to Caroline. One was ‘On reading Milton with a Young Lady’, another ‘The Muse to Miss Chinnery’, playfully charging Caroline with a neglect of poetry in favour of music.41 A third was ‘To my Grammatical Niece’42 (Spencer’s pet name for Caroline was ‘my niece’), to which Caroline replied with four stanzas of clever punning on various parts of speech, showing her complete mastery of a discipline about which Margaret was particular.43 In total, there are over forty surviving poems by Caroline in the USA and in Australia. Among them were those she was preparing for publication, mentioned in Chapter 6. It was during one of Spencer’s stays at Gillwell that he decided to publish his own book of verse, and his Poems (July 1811), were collated with the help of Caroline Chinnery. Gillwell and its inhabitants inspired many of these poems, including the two mentioned above. At the front of the 1836 edition of his Poems the editor wrote that Spencer had been a regular visitor to Mrs Chinnery’s house Gillwell and that her daughter, ‘in whom she cultivated [music] and every other talent’ seemed to have been a person of extraordinary beauty, learning and accomplishments.44 Margaret persuaded Spencer to send a copy of his Poems to Madame de Genlis, with whom she had been keeping up a desultory correspondence since the former’s adopted son Casimir Baecker had come to Gillwell in 1807.45 She wished him to include some lines of verse in the form of a homage. Yesterday I wrote again to Madme de Genlis and the chief object of this letter was to send her Guglielmo’s Poems. While I was writing, I sent down to tell him that the simply writing on the book “To Madme de Genlis from the Author” was hardly a compliment to her, and that I begged he would directly write four lines in english by way of envoi; he replied that he would try, but was sure he could not; however, in less than a quarter of an hour he sent me the following To Madame de Genlis A Servant of those Arts which you command Dares e’vn to you address one votive line, The poorest Swain who toil’d on Attic land Bow’d not unfavour’d at Minerva’s shrine!46 Margaret’s friend Sir John Carr also published a book of verse around this time. It includes two poems dedicated to the Chinnery ladies, both praising their taste. The first was to Margaret ‘Impromptu to Madame C——, written at Paris’ (transcribed in Chapter 4), and the second to Caroline: ‘Lines

128  Caroline grown up to Miss Chinnery, of Gillwell House, upon her appearing in a dress with may-flowers and leaves tastefully displayed’. Carr also praises Caroline’s simplicity and modesty: ‘Tell me what taught thee to display | A choice so sweet, and yet so rare, | To prize the modest buds of May | Beyond the diamond’s prouder glare?’47

Reading aloud The evenings at Gillwell were spent, as they had been since the twins’ early education, in playing music, in reciting poetry, or in reading from novels or plays and discussing what had been read. The readings took place over an hour or so, intersected by supper. In January 1807 ‘at the hour we usually read Italian poetry’, one of the Chinnerys’ houseguests, the singer and theatre impresario, the chevalier La Cainea, read part of Pliny’s speech to the emperor Trajan, translated by Vittorio Alfieri.48 ‘The subject is well known’, Margaret continued, ‘but the eloquence of Alfieri gives it new charms in the Italian’. The following evening La Cainea continued his reading, ‘and it was so beautiful that we passed an hour in hearing it, though we only devote half that time to reading Italian every evening’. After supper Margaret continued with Act III of Molière’s Femmes Savantes, having read Act II the previous evening. The chevalier La Cainea was a houseguest again in February and this time read Alfieri’s beautiful tragedy of Merope […] all but the last act. Caroline read some italian prose extremely well, and George read some critical remarks by Alfieri in Italian after supper, better than I have heard him read for a long time, and in a way that pleased us all because it discovered intelligence.49 In March 1808 Margaret wrote to George that she had been reading Shakespeare and Greek plays to their small family circle, which Caroline and Amico enjoyed immensely.50 A week later it was Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Racine’s Iphigénie. Spencer took an active part in these readings when he was at Gillwell. In June 1808 he read to the family from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Merchant of Venice and As You Like It. In January 1809 it was from a collection of fairy stories and other fantastic tales, Les Contes d’Hamilton, by the seventeenth-century French courtier the comte Antoine d’Hamilton.51 In the Preface of Gaston de Lévis’s 1812 edition of two of the tales he cites Voltaire’s praise of Hamilton’s style: ‘vif, léger, agréable’ (lively, light-hearted and appealing) and says that its grace and naturel reminds him of Madame de Sévigné’s. Add to this Hamilton’s powers of observation of human behaviour and you have a work which appeals to children, adolescents and adults alike, Lévis believed.52 In March 1809 Caroline was treated to a reading by Margaret of Fénelon’s popular Aventures de Télémaque for the first time. (For Margaret and

Caroline grown up  129 Viotti it was the second reading.) George had also read it at Oxford during his first term there. As an education novel (written for the young duc de Bourgogne by his tutor), the book was an absorbing travel adventure, and a model for virtuous conduct. It dealt with the moral and political education of the young Telemachus, son of Ulysses, by his tutor Mentor (the goddess Minerva in disguise), while travelling around the Mediterranean. By reserving the reading of Fénelon’s novel until George and Caroline were grown up, Margaret clearly wanted them to appreciate the deeper philosophical and political messages embedded in the novel: the dangers of absolutism, the qualities of a good king, his self-abnegation, his eschewal of hubris, of luxury, of war, all of which were Christian dogma clothed in classical garb. Another book that Margaret reserved for discussion when Caroline was grown up was Madame de Staël’s Corinne ou l’Italie (1807). She and Viotti had both read it before as a novel, but in March 1811 they all read it as an essay on Italy and on the fine arts. In Margaret’s opinion, the style was neither pure nor correct, the reasoning often erroneous, sometimes obscure, but there is so much enthusiasm, so much imagination and warmth of colouring in the various discussions on the fine arts; Rome and its treasures are described in such glowing language, that the book, with all its imperfections, has magic in it!53 Spencer was put out to miss such discussions when he was absent from Gillwell, writing flippantly to Caroline that same month that he was resolved to dislike the book. However, on further reading he found that he truly did dislike the book, opining that ‘the Heroine is out of nature, and the Hero out of his wits’, that Corinne was too perfect and her lover too melancholy.54 These criticisms Margaret may have agreed with, viewing the book as a novel, but as a disquisition on the fine arts it elicited her clearest thoughts on what constituted life’s pleasures. For her, the pleasure associated with the fine arts came second only to those sublime pleasures that related to the Divine. After all, life would be a dull insipid round of duties reciprocally performed, without interest or animation, if we were deprived of the fine arts! I am ready to acknowledge that they cannot and do not procure for us those pleasures of the higher kind, which the soul derives from meditation on the Divine nature, or divine goodness, or any of those sublime contemplations that result from the mental intercourse between man and his creator. Neither will they bear a comparison with the god-like feeling that rewards a noble sacrifice of self, in behalf of our fellow creatures. But these are, as it were, holiday [i.e. holy day] enjoyments, in which the imperfections of our mortal natures do not allow us to indulge habitually. Next to these two sublime sources of

130  Caroline grown up enjoyment, and as connected with every species of domestic pleasure, I place the boundless variety of interest, amusement, and exquisite gratification to be derived from the cultivation of the fine arts!55 Because of Margaret’s deeply felt religious sentiments she was lukewarm about Staël’s moral philosophy. When Madame de Staël paid her a visit in August 1813, Margaret wrote to her husband, We talked a very little of her new work [De l’Allemagne], and I complimented her a very little upon those I had read. She remarked that the work I mentioned was very imperfect, that she wrote it sixteen years ago, but that I should be “plus contente de son nouvel ouvrage” [happier with her new work].56 The work of sixteen years previously might have been, given Margaret’s interest in human happiness, De l’Influence des passions sur le bonheur des individus et des nations (1796), which was translated into English in 1798 as A Treatise on the Influence of the Passions upon the Happiness of Individuals and of Nations. In it Staël acknowledged the utility of religious sentiments, but opined that ‘it is not in the power of any mortal to bestow upon himself the happiness which they can procure’, 57 and that an unshakeable faith was ‘a gift as little dependent upon one’s self, as beauty, genius, or any advantage or faculty which we hold from nature’.58 This idea would have been anathema to Margaret, who believed that everyone could have access to faith, and therefore to happiness. With five Italian speakers at Gillwell in November 1809 (Viotti, Maestro Bianchi, Spencer, Margaret and Caroline), Margaret decided that all their evening readings would be in Italian. The Italian scholar Thomas Mathias had sent down with Spencer his recently published Italian translation of William Mason’s Sappho (1809) and some other poems of Mason, which Margaret described as in ‘beautiful italian’.59 There was also an Italian translation of the Poems of Ossian (1765), an immensely popular work, which had been disseminated throughout Europe by its many translations. It was purportedly a cycle of epic poems from the Gaelic oral tradition, written by the ancient legendary Celtic bard Ossian, but was in reality a forgery by the Scottish author James Macpherson. ‘Macpherson’s Ossian, 3 v.’ was on the sale catalogue of the Chinnery library (lot 15). It had been translated into Italian by Melchiorre Cesarotti, who, eschewing a literal translation, rendered Macpherson’s measured sharp prose into a versatile metrical foot, the unrhymed sciolto, or blank verse.60 Cesarotti also translated Homer’s Iliad in the same manner and it too was read aloud by Margaret. Caroline was then eighteen years old and fully conversant with the subtleties of Italian versification, which she spent the evening discussing with her mother and the three other Italian speakers.61

Caroline grown up  131

Miss Elizabeth Smith Another book that captured Margaret’s attention around this time was Elizabeth Smith’s Fragments, in Prose and Verse, edited by the respected Christian education writer Henrietta Maria Bowdler.62 In it Bowdler gives an account of the life, character and self-education of the young intellectual prodigy Elizabeth Smith (1776–1806), daughter of a prominent English banker, whose bank failed in 1793, leaving Elizabeth and her family in much reduced circumstances. How Miss Smith became a scholar of Hebrew, Persian and Arabic, as well as of Latin and Greek, with little formal tuition and reliant on loans of books from friends, is described by Bowdler, a close family friend who was twenty years Elizabeth’s senior. Bowdler’s mother, an extremely devout woman, who learned Hebrew and Greek in order to be able to read the Holy Scriptures in the original, had an influence on Elizabeth, who was herself equally devout. Margaret would have found many qualities to admire in Elizabeth Smith, not least of which were her simplicity and her piety. The 1811 edition of Smith’s Fragments included a letter from Elizabeth Hamilton, which also praises both these virtues: To those who had been accustomed to contemplate the possessor of genius or learning raised upon the pedestal of vanity, and extorting the homage of applause from all beholders, [Miss Smith’s] simplicity, to which all ostentatious display was abhorrent, would have appeared as a defect […] But whoever compared it with a higher standard than that of the world, must have been sensible of its near approach to perfection.63 Like Margaret’s, and surely many other reading families of this time, Elizabeth Smith’s family and friends read both instructive and amusing works aloud. The one Elizabeth singled out was Thomas Gisborne’s An Enquiry into the Duties of Men (1795), with which their party was extremely pleased, she reported.64 Margaret would also have been interested to learn that Elizabeth shared many of her own thoughts on books and education. For example, in 1796 Elizabeth had found ‘some beautiful things’ in Mason’s new volume of poetry.65 Smith’s Fragments includes much on Elizabeth’s fervent (youthful) admiration of the Poems of Ossian, but also her opinion of many modern language books, including Christoph Martin Wieland’s Oberon in German and Jean Froissart’s medieval Chronicles of England, France, Spain […] in French, which she found ‘tedious, yet entertaining’.66 When four volumes of Thomas Johnes’s six-volume translation of the Chronicles and the Memoirs of the Life of Sir John Froissart sold in London for 4,000 guineas in 1810, Margaret was indignant. She wrote: Johnnes [sic] has done a thing which provokes me, because it seems that any of us might have done it as well as him, without being half so lucky.

132  Caroline grown up You know he translated Froissart from the old french into english, and now he has translated some other memoirs from the old french in the same way, and he has sold 4 vols for 4,000 guineas! This is too bad for mere journeyman’s work – no invention nor production of his own!67 For Margaret, prose translation was a straightforward skill. What she truly admired was good poetry translation, where inventiveness and creativity were paramount. For both Bacon and Montaigne, invention consisted in taking a subject and moulding it to one’s own individual shape. ‘Bees suck the flowers here and there where they find them, but make their honey afterwards, which is all purely their own’, wrote Montaigne.68 Invention was needed in the writing of themes, Margaret had always stressed to George. But in poetry it was the most important ingredient of all according to Montaigne: ‘if there be invention in his piece, and if wit and judgement have acted their parts well in it, I will style him a good poet’.69 Miss Smith’s thoughts on wisdom, virtue and happiness also coincided with Margaret’s. Smith believed that wisdom was the most valuable gift bestowed by God, and that therefore the wise were always the happiest and the most virtuous, ‘for true wisdom is the mother of virtue’ and ‘happiness is the support of virtue’.70 She also expressed a comment that was exactly the same as Margaret’s advice to George on the keeping of a commonplace book according to Bacon’s plan. Although Smith does not use the term, the meaning and purport are the same as Margaret’s: I find it a very good method to write down my thoughts as they occur, for an idea often strikes me, which, turning to something else, I forget immediately; but considering it as much as it is necessary to write it down, makes me more acquainted with the subject, and makes the thoughts more my own. For want of some such plan, I see people dreaming away their lives in inactivity of mind, without forming any opinions of their own, till from paying no attention to their thoughts, they come not to think at all.71 Descriptions of Miss Smith contriving to make a currant tart in the most basic of kitchens, and of her attention to economy when circumstances demanded it, are included by Henrietta Bowdler ‘because I wish to convince my young readers that learning is not incompatible with the most minute attention to all the peculiar duties, as well as to all the elegant accomplishments which belong to the female character’.72 This is the clearest iteration of all the female educationists that a woman could, indeed should, continue with her domestic duties while cultivating her intellect. Although Caroline Chinnery did not have to endure the trying living conditions of Elizabeth Smith, she was taught by Margaret to use economy in her own domestic habits, to be aware of the plight of the poor women living in the neighbourhood of Gillwell and occasionally to sew a gown or a cap for them or

Caroline grown up  133 assist with the education of a young daughter, whom Margaret had taken in. Henrietta Bowdler also emphasises Elizabeth Smith’s modesty, writing that although possessing genius, she was always simple, sweet and innocent in her demeanour, and when called on to speak did so pleasingly and unaffectedly.73 These were exactly the qualities that Genlis and Margaret desired in their pupils. Margaret may well have learned of Elizabeth Smith through her close friend and neighbour William Sotheby. It was his rendition into English of Wieland’s celebrated epic poem Oberon that earned him his reputation as a translator. As a benevolent protector of struggling young poets, Sotheby came to hear of Elizabeth Smith’s uncommon knowledge of German in 1803, and approached her, through Bowdler, to undertake an English translation of the memoirs of the German poet Klopstock and of his wife. (Smith had by then already read, then re-read, the twenty-two volumes of Klopstock’s Messiah.) She completed the translation before her death in 1806 and Sotheby was much pleased with it.74 Although Sotheby was a fine translator, his own poetry was unremarkable. Margaret did not think he had ‘the slightest degree of poetical taste or feeling’, referring to him privately as ‘the forest bard’.75 However, she owned to George, that what Sotheby did have was ‘a most prosaic high esteem of you’. (Near the completion of George’s successful years in Oxford, Sotheby would write to Margaret: ‘Tell George, I long to see more of him; for the more I see him, the more I like him’, continuing, ‘Your labors of love are delightfully repay’d and you are now reaping the golden harvest’.76) This was enough for Margaret. She also loved Mrs Sotheby, who had ‘good sense united with feminine gentleness’.77 In fact the Sothebys were such good friends that they lent the Chinnerys their mansion in town for two days at the time of the prince regent’s inauguration fête.

Fashionable society The yen for sociability dominated the eighteenth century as no other phenomenon did. The French model of sociability was a beacon for all Europe, but it has recently been pointed out that Britain had its own model that dated back to the Restoration period.78 Be that as it may, Margaret’s model remained the French one, and as we have seen, she educated her children accordingly. In the 1810 spring season the Chinnerys spent four months in London in order to launch eighteen-year-old Caroline in society. In March she was shown to the educators of the young Princess Charlotte of Wales, Dr Fisher and Dr Nott.79 Caroline played the harp and pianoforte for them, and ‘felt quite astonished to see them so much delighted with the little she could do without her music, and upon two wretched instruments’.80 In May she made her London debut at a large party hosted by her parents. This was Margaret’s first opportunity to judge of the success of ‘her work’ outside her own drawing room. It was certainly the first time that Caroline

134  Caroline grown up had performed before such a large gathering of people of the first rank and fashion. Yet, William told George, the difficulty of the situation seemed to give her additional courage, and she was admired for her personal attributes as well as her musical accomplishments. George would hear all the particulars of the evening from his ‘dear Mentor, who was rewarded on the occasion as she deserved – by the most distinguished admiration of your Sister’s Talents and Manners, by one of the most brilliant Circles that could be seen any where’.81 The company was indeed brilliant, including many of Spencer’s illustrious relatives including the Duchess of Devonshire, Lord Morpeth and Lady Georgiana, Lady Granville, Lady Bessborough and the Honourable George Lamb, among whom Caroline’s voice and style of singing created ‘great astonishment’.82 William exhorted George to be inspired by what his sister had done: For a young Female to sing before such a Circle for the first Time was more than equal to the Situation of a young Man first addressing the Ho of Commons! When it comes to your Turn to debuter there, recollect what your dear Sister did last night!!!83 In June Caroline was invited to perform before the Princess of Wales at Kensington Palace, where various members of the royal family questioned Margaret about her education method. The party was small, no more than fifteen persons. Caroline was asked to play two or three times, and the princess seemed charmed with her, Margaret told George. By ‘living a little in society’ Margaret was able to serve George’s interests also. She was able to answer enquiries made about him, ‘besides making connections which will all serve as introductions to you, even were I not to return next Spring’. In short, she told him, ‘you are my great work’.84 Clearly, Margaret was laying the groundwork for her children’s future, George’s in parliament and Caroline’s in a good marriage (something that she was careful never to articulate in her letters). When it was announced that George had won the Newdigate English Verse Prize in June 1810 the Chinnery party was still in town, and Margaret’s reputation as an educator spread through the fashionable world. Everyone wished her to explain her method. One of the most interested was Lady Leitrim who, unlike most aristocratic mothers of the day, was closely involved in the upbringing of her eight children in Ireland. Margaret wrote to George, ‘Lady Leitrim has been talking to me or rather having me talk upon education for two whole hours! With how much confidence I may now talk upon that subject!’85 During these years Margaret continued Matilda’s education at home, but little Margaret had been sent away to school, returning to Gillwell during breaks. Whenever Margaret was obliged to go to London, Caroline took over the lessons of the little girls (now aged 13), in accordance with Margaret’s belief that those with an education had a duty to help educate

Caroline grown up  135 others, within their competence. On one occasion Caroline, now nineteen, reported to her mother (in French) on little Margaret: I have tried to turn dinner time to advantage by speaking to her in French. She already knows the name of many things, and has learned to spell words of two syllables too. As the rain prevented her from coming yesterday [she was then staying at the gate lodge with Margaret’s sister], Matilda and I discussed Roman history and I tried to put the principal points in her head. She has repeated her lessons each day, and yesterday we read some German together. I also made her play her Variations by heart after dinner!86 And while it was Margaret who taught Matilda piano, it was Caroline who taught little Margaret to play the harp. In Margaret’s absence Caroline was also continuing with her own reading, which was at that time Madame du Deffand’s 1809 Correspondance (with Voltaire, Horace Walpole and others). Since Margaret had gone to town to consult a doctor, Caroline adopted Du Deffand’s repeated exhortations to her friends to eat and sleep well and ended her letter to her mother with a flourish: ‘Like Mme du Deffand, I say “Digérez!”’87 At the beginning of 1811 little Margaret came home from school with whooping cough and Caroline caught it. Once Caroline seemed to be on the path to recovery, Margaret took the family on a restorative seaside holiday to Eastbourne, moving on to Tunbridge Wells and then to Brighton during the autumn season. Caroline continued her study of Latin between her sessions of sea-dipping. Tunbridge Wells in autumn was the very pinnacle of fashion for London society, which thronged to the spa in order to participate in a merrygo-round of bustling assemblies. Since Caroline’s debut into London society had been interrupted by her long illness, Margaret believed that this was an opportunity to make her known in circles likely to remember her the following season. It was hard work for a family such as the Chinnerys to launch a daughter into society, and Margaret did not hesitate to call it just that. However, the bustle at these resorts was not conducive to rest or study. Caroline’s attempts to get on with her Latin were thwarted by unwelcome visits. She was hoping to finish Juvenal’s Satire, after which she would read something in Horace or in the Georgics until Spencer arrived, but her reading was repeatedly interrupted by the Devonshire friend Mr Kensington. He kept calling and kept finding them all at study. Another importunate caller, with whom Margaret had nothing in common, was the Grenfells’ relative Mrs Owen Williams of Temple. Margaret had stayed at Temple en route to Oxford in 1808, but had found the beautiful estate disappointingly devoid of the arts, in any form: ‘This must be an enchanting place in summer, and would be so in winter too, were the Muses courted to reside here in an amicable and chosen circle of their votaries’.88 Like Quintilian, who cited an old Greek proverb ‘the Illiterate have no acquaintance with

136  Caroline grown up the muses and graces’,89 Margaret believed that an acquaintance with all the arts constituted a well-rounded education, and that if you could not play a musical instrument, or at least appreciate music, for example, your education was deficient.90 These fashionable acquaintances came to the watering resorts to socialise, and Margaret knew she could not continue to fob them off without appearing eccentric. Indeed, Margaret’s relationship with ‘the fashionables’ was ambivalent. On the one hand she needed them, yet on the other she found some of them insufferable. It was a fine line to tread, maintaining studious habits, while at the same time avoiding the pejorative epithet of ‘bluestocking’. For her parties Margaret did her best to select her guests from the more sensible among them. They included the MP William Tighe and his wife,91 Lord and Lady Dungannon, the Whig orator George Tierney and his wife and the learned Lord Aberdeen, president of the prestigious Society of Antiquaries. Another was Miss Lydia White, who now, close to the age of forty, was establishing her reputation as a femme d’esprit. She was by some envious persons out of malice, Margaret said, called a bluestocking, but Margaret found her a sensible lively woman, who read a great deal, was very ready at conversation, and well-furnished for it.92 Another sensible conversationalist who was a regular guest at Margaret’s parties was the writer and Horace Walpole friend Miss Mary Berry, who edited the four-volume 1810 English translation of Du Deffand’s letters, which Margaret also owned.93 Margaret also invited Mr and Mrs Gordon, and the diplomat Francis Jackson and his wife. Caroline and Viotti played for the guests, and Margaret invited any of the ladies who wished to contribute to the entertainment, to join in. ‘Lady Dungannon sang a great deal, and Mrs Gordon too, but neither of them knew the least in the world how to sing’, she sniffed.94 Somehow, Margaret was able to participate in the constant round of visits while at the same time finding enough quiet moments to write to George, who was reading for his final examination at Oxford. ‘How ridiculous such a waste of time must appear to you who are making such a noble and sensible use of yours!’95 she wrote. At the same time Margaret was pleased to be carrying off her aim of having her children’s names on the tip of every tongue. However, she was tired of the whirlwind of assemblies. It was inevitably the same fashionables at all the parties, a game of revolving doors. The better Margaret got to know them, the more disillusioned she became with them, realising how few possessed the qualities which she endeavoured to foster in her own children: Do you know that the more I see of the world, the more I am confirmed in all the principles I have been so many years endeavouring to instil into your mind and your sister’s. How usefully, how nobly we spent our time during ten years, ten lovely years of perfect enchantment at Gillwell! I could weep to think that they are forever gone, and that all

Caroline grown up  137 the rest of my existence must comparatively be a blank!… But then I have the consolation of observing and feeling every hour of my life that those years were well employed, and that I am repaid an hundred fold for what was then a pleasure, since in the whole world there are not two such children as mine! I cannot find any being to be compared with either of you, though there may yet be some little, very little things that I shall try to alter and improve. I am always proudly happy when people talk to me of the way in which you are now spending your time. I delight to dwell upon the subject! Then your dear Sister is so much liked and admired here for qualities that are still less common than her talents – for her extreme unaffectedness, and simplicity of manner, which grow out of her native modesty! The more people see and know you two, the more they must esteem and love you, because every thing in you both is real, not put on for outward shew, but solid and in grain.96 The ‘little things’ that remained for her to improve were what she called ‘externals’97, or the outward graces. She was still concerned by Caroline’s posture and had procured a back brace for her. Caroline was cooperating: ‘Tell Mama that since she reminded me last Saturday I have been wearing my back brace every day, morning and evening, without taking it off once!’ Caroline wrote to Viotti, during a short separation.98 But as far as the twins’ character was concerned, Margaret could not have been better pleased. In spite of their considerable achievements, neither exhibited the slightest trace of vanity. Another who thought so was Margaret’s new acquaintance, the Italophile Lord Glenbervie, who wrote of Caroline: Miss Chinnery is a very pretty, lively, alert girl still under twenty, with good features, black eyes, eyebrows and hair, a clear complexion of natural red and white, a neat person, obliging manners, frank and easy conversation, without being forward or obtrusive, and talents as well as taste, and skill in music in a superior degree. She is also said to write very pretty verses and I believe draws.99 The diplomat’s wife Mrs Francis Jackson also thought highly of both Margaret and Caroline, and, contradicting an opinion given by her brother-in-law, opined, ‘Mrs Chinnery is vastly superior to most women, and Mademoiselle is precisely what I would wish my own daughter to be at her age. A mother cannot express herself in stronger terms’.100

Taste By early October Margaret’s party was settled in Brighton. As the first few days were wet, Margaret immersed herself in Alison’s Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste. The book opens with a definition of taste: ‘Taste is that Faculty of the human Mind, by which we perceive and enjoy,

138  Caroline grown up whatever is beautiful or sublime in the works of Nature or Art’.101 (Alison is here using that ubiquitous but confusing term ‘Nature’ in the sense of our environment. In the following remarks ‘nature’ is used in its other sense, namely that which is essentially human.) An enduring concern of the eighteenth century, taste was something that also preoccupied Margaret. She had read Pope’s twenty-six-page poem Essay on Criticism, in which he followed Quintilian’s thinking that taste was inherent in human nature, and just needed to be tapped. (Pope: ‘most men are born with some taste, but spoil’d by false education’ and ‘Nature is the best guide of judgement: improved by art and rules, which are but methodiz’d Nature’.102) Indeed, Pope judges Quintilian to be among the best critics: ‘In grave Quintilian’s copious work, we find | The justest rules and clearest method join’d’103. Alison also agreed that every man had within him the emotions of taste, which, he said, were released when the imagination was free and unencumbered by other concerns.104 For her part, Margaret believed, like both Pope and Alison, and also Elizabeth Hamilton, that children needed guidance in forming their taste before being able to hold an opinion on works of art such as music, painting and poetry. As Alison explained, the human mind operated by making associations with past experiences, but since children had no past experience of great works with which to compare what they were hearing or viewing or reading for the first time, they could not judge of the merit of the composition.105 Margaret therefore exposed her children to as many great works as possible, during their interaction with them insisting that they pay close attention to what they were viewing or hearing, whether it was visiting Thomas Hope’s collection of antiquities, or listening to the best musicians perform in their own drawing room. By the age of twenty Caroline, too, had read Pope’s Essay, which she discussed with her friend and tutor William Spencer. Caroline had dared to question Pope’s famous lines ‘Let such teach others who themselves excel, | And censure freely who have written well’.106 Pope believed that true taste was as rare as true genius, and that critics should have a deep knowledge of the Ancients and be able to write well themselves before passing judgement. Caroline had perhaps suggested (her letter on the subject is missing) that those who had cultivated taste were as capable of judging of the merits of a work of art as the artist himself, and that taste was within all men’s reach. Spencer agreed that Caroline might be right, as long as she understood that the words ‘teach’ and ‘judge’ were not synonymous: The word teach is more than judge, and to be able to teach implies a knowledge of the mechanical parts of an art, which an artist must possess better than an amateur. I believe the many can judge of general effect full as well as the few initiated. Quintilian says “Docte rationem artis intelligent, indocti voluptatem” [The learned understand the reason of art, the unlearned feel the pleasure of it]. When I was in

Caroline grown up  139 the famous garden at Haarlem, I could fully enjoy the general effect of three acres all in Hyacinths, but each flower had merits or defects which were palpable to a learned florist, but quite unintelligible to me. However, taste, improv’d by practice and observation into judgement, may make a critic perfectly able to point out beauties which he could not create, and faults which he could not remedy. I think taste is natural feeling, and judgement that feeling properly exercis’d, and the two therefore should not be so often confounded, or made synonymous. In one art (painting) it is generally allow’d that the professors have not such fine judgement as the amateurs (of course those who have made a real study of it) as they are almost always prejudic’d in favor of some particular school, or particular manner. [He goes on to quote, in Greek, Athenaeus on music, telling Caroline to ask her brother to translate for her.]107 Thus was Spencer broadly in agreement with Caroline, citing Quintilian in support of her argument, saying that taste was ‘a natural feeling’ (i.e. in man’s very nature), and that ‘taste, improv’d by practice and observation into judgement, may make a critic perfectly able to point out beauties which he could not create’. The succinct distinction that Spencer draws between taste and judgement (‘taste is natural feeling, and judgement that feeling properly exercis’d’), seems to sum up in a nutshell the arguments of all the above philosophers. Alison’s closely argued disquisition on taste was so detailed that Margaret soon sought respite from it in her favourite author Bacon.108 Her first letter to George from Brighton was an overview of their stay at Tunbridge, where Caroline’s singing had created a stir, and people had ‘intrigued and plotted to hear her’.109 Spencer opined that Caroline’s success was ‘as brilliant and as universal as Susan Beckford’s for singing and beauty’.110 This was high praise indeed, for Susan Beckford was the acknowledged star of London drawing-rooms. A talented singer and pianist, she was the daughter of the wealthy dilettante William Beckford of Fonthill, and since 1810, wife of the Marquess of Douglas. The first weekend in Brighton was Margaret’s birthday. At a festive breakfast Margaret received each family member’s offerings. Caroline wrote celebratory verses. William and Viotti bedecked her with flowers, and Spencer and her old pupil Maria sent verses from London and Gillwell respectively. George wrote two letters from Oxford and regretted not being able to twine a chaplet around her head.111 By the end of October Margaret was alarmed by Caroline’s noticeable decline in health and decided to shorten their stay by a week. It was then that the prince regent arrived in Brighton. Thereafter came a string of evening parties at the Pavilion, to which the Chinnerys and Viotti were invited. The prince invited Margaret to play, but she declined in favour of Caroline, who greatly pleased and astonished the company by playing her own variations, which the prince considered were

140  Caroline grown up ‘in the stile of Scarlatti’.112 Caroline was so popular with the prince that he desired that her family stay another week. It was a royal command which Margaret was both happy, for the glory, and unhappy, for the fatigue it would occasion, to obey. Margaret wrote to George, If Caroline were well, it would be the first opportunity that any body ever had of seeing the Prince’s favour and general admiration! But she is at present quite unequal to the fatigue. I really fear she will not be able to hold out to the end! He has offered her his Band of a morning and most genuinely assured me that no one shall be present but the Band and himself if she will like to try either vocal or instrumental music!113 One of the guests who heard Caroline play at the Pavilion that week was George Jackson, brother of the diplomat Francis Jackson. In his letter to his mother he makes it clear that most of the dowagers present were expecting to hear a coquettish young lady make a fool of herself: On one or two evenings, Miss Chinnery, who possesses great musical ability, in addition to her many other accomplishments, was asked to play on the pianoforte. This was considered a very great compliment, and as you will readily understand was the cause of much envy and backbiting amongst the women. Many soft sleepy eyes opened, many arched brows were raised higher, and amongst the dowagers many significant glances were slyly exchanged. But Miss Chinnery performed splendidly, and without any of the airs and graces with which I have seen some girls prattle with the keys. She was complimented greatly, and particularly so by the Regent.114 The manner in which Caroline conducted herself that evening was a shining example of the modest simplicity recommended by Genlis in Adèle et Théodore. Genlis has one of her characters say, ‘She [Adèle] will do well to preserve this simplicity and this modesty, for, without these two qualities, all the knowledge in the world, far from pleasing others, will serve only to importune, to annoy and will even seem ridiculous’.115 Just how true these words were, is shown by the above. Margaret’s version of what was probably the same evening was: I cannot give you an idea of the Prince’s surprise and delight at your sister’s playing!… His expressions, his gestures, his “tearful eye”, every thing was far beyond any thing that any person has ever said or done before. He was enchanted with Amico, oh yes quite enchanted, but to your sister he was… really I cannot find words to tell you all he said and did, – his attentions, standing by her the whole time, handing her to her chair, telling her “I shall stay by you”, and after the first piece he declared out loud that “she was the first player he had ever heard on

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that instrument [piano] and had produced an effect, by a trick peculiar to herself, which he had never thought possible and which he had no idea of”. As to Cramer added the Prince, “he must hide his face before her”!116 John Baptist Cramer was one of the most eminent pianists in Britain at that time. Lest it be thought that the prince was merely in thrall to a pretty face, it must be pointed out that he was a knowledgeable connoisseur of music.117 Unfortunately, the eight or nine consecutive evenings spent at the Pavilion represented the apogee of Caroline’s short life. She had earned the admiration of the future king of England and had received public praise from him before an audience who would speak of it for months to come. But her health was irrevocably compromised.

Notes 1 ‘Thompson’s works’ (Adèle et Théodore, III, p. 527) refers to James Thomson’s poetry, of which the most famous was his Hymn on the Seasons (1730). 2 MC to GRC, 5 May 1808, Ch.Ch. Robert Potter’s translations of the Tragedies of Aeschylus (1777), Tragedies of Euripides (1781) and Tragedies of Sophocles (1788) went into many editions. 3 MC to GRC, 31 November 1808, Ch.Ch. 4 MC to GRC, 7 June 1809, Ch.Ch. 5 Reported in the Gentleman’s Magazine, May 1738, p. 227. 6 MC to GRC, 31 November 1808, Ch.Ch. 7 In MC to GRC, 26 November 1808, Ch.Ch. 8 These requirements are listed in Yim, ‘A British Child’s Music Education’, p. 42. 9 Note from Caroline included in MC to GRC, 26 November 1808, Ch.Ch. 10 MC to GRC, 28 November 1808, Ch.Ch. 11 MC to GRC, 11 June 1809, Ch.Ch. The manuscript music has just been rediscovered (priv. coll. James Paul). It was published in 1811 as the second movement of Viotti’s harp sonata (wVI:9), up to now attributed to the Countess Dunmore. Spencer wrote of Viotti’s being in town in early March 1811, seeing about the publication of ‘the lovely sonata’ (WRS to CC, 8 March 1811, priv. coll. James Paul). Around the same time Margaret wrote to Spencer that Caroline was feeling well enough (she was then recovering from whooping cough) to ‘correct the proofs of her Adagio’ (MC to WRS, [March 1811], Fisher 2000–43/5). 12 MC to GRC, 21 June 1809, Ch.Ch. 13 Quintilian, I, 43. 14 Hamilton, Elementary Principles, II, 10–11. 15 See Munzel, p. 43. 16 CC’s poem, ‘Song’, 29 October 1809, is in Osborn, item 130, the music in priv. coll. James Paul. 17 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 104 (‘innocence’ is translated as ‘simplicity’ (p. 62) in the 1783 English translation Adelaide and Theodore). 18 More, I, 175. 19 Macaulay, p. 239. 20 Ibid. 21 Quintilian, I, x.

142 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

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Jones, p. 206. MC to GRC 1 June 1811, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 9 February 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 22 August 1811, Ch.Ch. WRS to MC, c.1813, Fisher 2000–13/9. MC to GRC, 22 August 1811, Ch.Ch. CC to WRS, 2 July 1811, Fisher 2000–42/7; ‘Imitation of Horace’s Ode to Oenus’ is in Osborn, item 57. 29 WRS to CC, 15 January 1811 (priv. coll. James Paul). 30 Bowdler, ed., p. 146. 31 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 64. 32 Sir William Pepys (1740–1825) was a barrister-at-law and alumnus of Christ Church College. 33 Edinburgh Review, January 1810, p. 299. 34 There are three poems in Latin by Caroline addressed to William Pepys in Osborn, items 45, 57 and 59. 35 William Pepys to WRS, 21 December 1810, Fisher 2000–41/7. 36 Osborn, item 80. 37 Osborn, items 30 and 101 (draft and fair copy). 38 WRS to CC, 3 March 1812, Fisher, 2000–35/17. 39 Osborn, item 32. 40 Osborn, item 57. 41 Spencer, Poems (1811), p. 195 and pp. 123–24, respectively. 42 Ibid., p. 146. 43 CC’s reply to Spencer’s ‘Grammatical Niece’, Osborn, item 94. 44 ‘Biographical Memoir of the Hon. William Robert Spencer’, in Poems (1836), pp. 59–60. 45 See Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, pp. 42–59, 91–132. 46 MC to GRC, 14 August 1811, Ch.Ch. 47 Carr, Poems, p. 170. 48 Pliny, the Younger, Panegirico di Plinio a Trajano (1787). 49 MC’s Journal, Book 2, pp. 100, 102. 50 MC to GRC, 17 March 1808, Ch.Ch. 51 MC to GRC, 28 January 1809, Ch.Ch. 52 Hamilton, Suite des ‘Quatre Façardins’, ed. Lévis, pp. vii–x. 53 MC to GRC, 14 March 1811, Ch.Ch. 54 WRS to CC, 8 March 1811 (priv. coll. James Paul). 55 MC to GRC, 14 March 1811, Ch.Ch. 56 MC to WBC, 25 August 1813, PHM 94/143–17/14. 57 Staël, A Treatise, pp. 215–16. 58 Ibid., p. 246. 59 MC to GRC, 10 November 1809, Ch.Ch. 60 Poesie di Ossian (1763); See Bertipaglia, p. 134. 61 MC to GRC, 10 November 1809, Ch.Ch. 62 First published as Fragments, in Prose and Verse by a Young Lady, Lately Deceased: With Some Account of Her Life and Character, by the Author of ‘Sermons on the Doctrines of and Duties of Christianity (Bath: Crutwell, 1808), it is the 1811 edition that will be cited in this book. Two copies are listed on the Christie sale catalogue, one titled ‘Smith’s Fragments’ (lot 12), the other ‘Bowdler’s Fragments’ (lot 16). 63 Letter from Elizabeth Hamilton, 11 March 1809, cited in Bowdler, ed., p. 155. 64 Bowdler, ed., p. 52. 65 Ibid., p. 55.

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143

66 Ibid., p. 53. 67 MC to GRC, 12 February 1810, Ch.Ch. Books were expensive, but this price was remarkable, even by the day’s standards. Part of Margaret’s provocation might have been caused by her husband’s financial distress, which by 1810 was known to her. Johnes’s six-volume edition (1803–10) was made up of four volumes of Chronicles and one each of Memoirs and Plates. 68 Montaigne, I, 165. 69 Ibid., p. 191. 70 Bowdler, ed., pp. 139, 149. 71 Ibid., p. 72. 72 Ibid., p. 62. 73 Ibid., p. 63. 74 It forms volume two of some editions of Smith’s Fragments. 75 MC to GRC, 12 February 1810, Ch.Ch. 76 William Sotheby to MC, 20 April 1811, Fisher 2000–5/14. 77 MC to GRC, 26 November 1810, Ch.Ch. 78 Capdeville and Kerhervé, eds, British Sociability (2019). 79 John Fisher (D.D. Cambridge, 1789) was appointed by George III to superintend the education of Princess Charlotte in 1805. George Frederick Nott (D.D. Oxford, 1807) was the princess’s sub-governor. 80 MC to GRC, 17 March 1810, Ch.Ch. 81 WBC to GRC, 28 May 1810, Ch.Ch. 82 MC to GRC, 28 May 1810, Ch.Ch. 83 WBC to GRC, 28 May 1810, Ch.Ch. 84 MC to GRC, 8 June 1810, Ch.Ch. 85 MC to GRC, [16 June 1810], Ch.Ch., MS xlviii a. 50, fol. 111v. 86 CC to MC, 30 January 1811, PHM 94/143/1–4/2. 87 Ibid. There are several examples of the expression in the Correspondance (e.g. II, 288). 88 MC to GRC, 11 February 1808, Ch.Ch. 89 Quintilian, I, 50. 90 Ibid., pp. 45–49. 91 The poetess Mrs Mary Tighe was the wife of William Tighe’s younger brother Henry. 92 MC to GRC, 3 September 1811, Ch.Ch. 93 Christie sale catalogue, lot 21. 94 MC to GRC, 8 September 1811, Ch.Ch. 95 MC to GRC, 30 August 1811, Ch.Ch. 96 MC to GRC, 21 September 1811, Ch.Ch. 97 MC to GRC, 8 August 1811, Ch.Ch. 98 CC to GBV, 31 January 1811, PHM 94/143/1–28/3. There is a steel collar listed in ‘Miss Chinnery’s Chamber’ in the Catalogue of the […] household furniture […] of W. Chinnery Esq, p. 19. 99 Douglas, pp. 144–45. 100 In F.J. Jackson to George Jackson, 18 October 1811, in Jackson, ed., I, 297. 101 Alison, p. vii. 102 Pope, p. 3. 103 Ibid., pp. 4, 23. 104 Alison, p. 6. 105 Ibid., pp. 7, 22. 106 Pope, p. 5. 107 WRS to CC, 9 January 1811 (priv. coll. James Paul). I thank Warwick Lister for translating Quintilian’s Latin. 108 MC to GRC, 14 October 1811, Ch.Ch.

144 109 110 111 112 113 114

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MC to GRC, 4 October 1811, Ch.Ch. Ibid. GRC to MC, 16 October 1811, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 31 October 1811, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 2 November 1811, Ch.Ch. George Jackson to Mrs Jackson senior, 11 November 1811, in Jackson, ed., I, 305. 115 Genlis, Adèle et Théodore, I, 451. 116 MC to GRC, 5 November 1811, Ch.Ch. 117 The composer and music historian Charles Burney said that there was no-one with whom he enjoyed talking about music more (Hibbert, George IV: The Rebel, pp. 64–65).

8

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As George’s reputation at Oxford grew, Margaret became more alarmed about his submitting work of an inferior nature. Often the title of one of his themes was in Greek, which frustrated her attempts to help him. Being obliged to read the great works of Greek literature in translation also frustrated her. She had read the Greek lyric poet Anacreon in French, using the popular 1780 French edition L’Anacréon françois, but longed to be able to read Herodotus in Greek. So, when George was at home for the 1809 summer vacation she asked him to give her some lessons. To avoid the reputation of a bluestocking, however, she wanted it kept a secret. When he returned to Oxford George left behind Parkhurst’s Greek and English lexicon to the New Testament, so that she could continue to study on her own. But with Spencer so often at Gillwell and in need of care (he suffered from dropsy), and sometimes the ailing Maestro Bianchi too, Margaret had little time to study. She would persevere, she said, even though she had no books to assist her, ‘not even a good dictionary!’1 (Parkhurst’s lexicon was a discussion of word usage rather than a dictionary. It was Parkhurst’s lexicon that assisted Miss Elizabeth Smith when she studied Hebrew from Mrs Bowdler’s Bible. 2) One of the deficiencies in George’s themes that Margaret kept coming back to was his English prose style. It was a weakness, Margaret claimed, that was caused by his reading and writing so little English. She often noticed ‘the strangest phraseology’ both in his themes and in his letters, which she attributed to ‘an exclusive study of foreign languages’.3 This was the reason she so actively encouraged him to continue to read elegant English prose, especially Addison’s and Johnson’s. A good exercise was to read a paper from the Spectator, then repeat the contents out loud immediately before writing his themes. Her rationale was that some of the author’s style would rub off on him, much the same advice that Addison himself gave to his readers.4 She advised reading a few short treatises from the Spectator as a ‘prelude’ to writing any composition in English, so that he might ‘find out what constitutes the careless ease, the elegant negligé of Addison’s stile, his prose I mean – and also meditate the construction of Johnson’s, more elevated, more perfect perhaps than any other in our language’. 5 In her

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-9

146  Glory achieved opinion, the college system of education did not place nearly enough importance on the practice of English composition: The college system of study is very defective on this head; you exercise only one or two faculties; you spend your whole time in finding out what the Greeks and Romans said and did, without even trying what you can say yourselves! Now I must own I think it would be better to be able to speak and write a little common sense oneself in plain and elegant terms, than to possess a perfect knowledge of all the fine things the ancients have written.6 Here Margaret was in agreement with Montaigne, who criticised schools for producing boys who had studied only Latin and Greek and had nothing to say ‘that is [their] own’.7 Being able to compose and converse in a clear and simple style in English was a skill that Margaret had begun to teach her children early. But it had to be reinforced by practice. It is of still greater importance to bring your learning into use by the constant and daily practice of composition and conversation. There is no other way of rendering intellectual ore pure and malleable. But this is hardly possible even in any degree at College, and I must be allowed (to think at least) that it is an enormous defect in the system of education there.8 However, Margaret was confident that George had such a good ear that it would not be hard for him to acquire greater clarity and simplicity in his English prose when he had time to do more English reading. In order to correct his letter-writing style she decided to look over some of his letters with him during vacation time, pointing out places where ‘the stile is not sufficiently simple and natural. Too great a use of odd words becomes an abuse, and gives a sort of masquerade appearance to stile’.9 Again stressing the virtue of simplicity, she wrote: ‘Simple, natural, easy and unaffected, without being common, that is the point to attain, and it is not an easy one’.10 On the other hand, she assured him, he did write good poetry. She compared the writing of prose with the composition of poetry, saying that for the first one needed a clear and lucid arrangement of ideas, and for the second ‘cultivation and imagination’.11 Margaret’s critical appraisal of everything she read was a practice that she recommended to George. Always stressing the need for him to exercise his own judgement in weighing up controversial issues, she warned him that ‘there is no such thing as a pamphlet without a tincture of political prejudice, – there is no newspaper that is not devoted to a party or a system!’12 When Margaret read the much talked of pamphlet published in January 1810 by the Oxford Professor of Poetry Edward Copleston, ‘A Reply to the Calumnies of the Edinburgh Review against Oxford’, refuting

Glory achieved  147 a biting criticism of the Oxford system of education contained in the Edinburgh Review, she applied to it the same critical faculties that she applied to everything she read. The writer of the article in the Edinburgh Review had claimed that an Oxford liberal education lacked utility.13 Given Margaret’s own criticism of the Oxford system on the same grounds, she must have been interested in how Copleston would rebut the charge. She must surely have agreed with the Edinburgh Review writer who, in defending his original stance, cited Bacon in his review of the pamphlet, writing, ‘in what relates to the progress of knowledge, and the advancement of the species, the present, not the past, must be deemed of superior authority’, and she must also have applauded his criticism of the ‘undue importance assigned to [classical learning] in English education’.14 Yet in giving her opinion of Copleston’s pamphlet to George, she restricted herself to discussing the author’s scholarship and writing, giving no opinion on his actual arguments. She criticised Copleston’s style, especially his introductory satire of the Edinburgh Review, saying that the ‘flowery emptiness of the diction’ was ‘puerile’,15 an opinion with which, George assured her, the College community was in agreement.16 But she admired Copleston’s defense of Aristotle and praised his presentation of such a vast body of evidence, which must have been aided, she thought, by his keeping a commonplace book of the kind she had so often recommended to George. Her much-repeated views on what constituted good English prose come through in her following remark: Mr Copplestone [sic] certainly has a head, and whenever he acquires a clear, plain, unaffected, elegant stile, through which he can communicate his thoughts to others, I have no doubt but he will be esteemed a good writer. But he must first weed his diction, and lop off the superfluous and overgrown branches.17 Margaret herself sometimes found fault with the Edinburgh Review. The journal’s policy of presenting eight or nine lengthy book reviews in each issue, written by gentleman writers encouraged to develop their own views and style, meant that the articles were often controversial. In March 1810 she took particular exception to a review based on a third-hand reading (an English translation of a French translation of the Italian) of the autobiography of one of her favourite Italian authors, Vittorio Alfieri. Disagreeing vehemently with the reviewer’s low opinion of Alfieri (‘an arrogant, fastidious, and somewhat narrow system of taste and opinions’),18 Margaret remarked scathingly to George ‘Then only think how ludicrous it is to hear Scotchmen pronouncing sentence upon the divine favella Toscana [Tuscan dialect]!’19 She was undoubtedly right. Margaret’s knowledge of the modern languages gave her a perspective on foreign publications which readers of these same works in translation did not have. George’s skill in modern languages was a rare one in Oxford. Since modern language study did not

148  Glory achieved form part of the liberal education tradition, falling rather into the category of a female elegant accomplishment, 20 few young gentlemen took the trouble to learn one. Indeed, George wrote to Margaret, he was ‘looked up to by every body’ for his knowledge of the modern languages. 21 So few of George’s contemporaries in Oxford understood French that Margaret contracted the habit of writing to George in French if she wished to keep secret the contents of any of her letters, which she feared George might leave lying about his room. In 1810 the Newdigate Prize for English Verse was the object of George’s labours. Spurred on by his tutor William Corne’s predictions of success, George began systematic research into the subject of the verses The Statue of the Dying Gladiator. He began by asking little Margaret at Gillwell to copy out the entry on the statue from the French Encyclopédie. Then he went to the Christ Church library, not realising that the use of the library was the exclusive privilege of the noblemen and gentleman-commoners, the most idle of all College men, according to George. 22 The librarian could not allow George to use the library’s copy of Bernard de Montfaucon’s dissertation on the Gladiator, 23 and George told his mother that he would have to borrow a copy from an Oxford bookseller. 24 George’s knowledge of French was an asset to his research, as much of the useful material was in French. George consulted the painter C.-P. Landon’s ‘collection of works of art which have won prizes in French competitions’25 as well as a dissertation read by Antoine Mongez at the Institut National in Paris. For the last George enlisted the help of Viotti, whom he asked to search it out at A.B. Dulau and Co., the London bookseller who imported foreign books. At the end of 1809 Spencer had encouraged George to submit some ‘encænia verses’, or laudatory verses which were traditionally recited in the Sheldonian Theatre at the time of the installation of a new University chancellor. Lord William Wyndham Grenville was to become the new chancellor in 1810. As only a few of the very best poems were selected, the reading of Encænia verses was deemed a great honour for which there was keen rivalry among the colleges. The Encænia (the annual Commemoration of Founders and Benefactors) was a glittering social event, and its fame extended far beyond the confines of the University. Spencer told Margaret that ‘all England will be there’, and that the honour of reciting verses at the Encænia was of much greater importance than a College prize. 26 Margaret therefore encouraged George to try for the honour: ‘If you can gain the prize, and write some verses good enough to be read at the Installation, you will have done more for the advancement of your literary fame than all your latin and greek can ever do’.27 George had little time to devote to his verses in term time, owing to the demands of his Collections, and those his mother made of him. But she assured him that there was time for everything ‘when we know how to make a judicious distribution of it’. 28 George followed her instructions, telling her that his study technique was ‘quite upon your plan, which lays down that a thing has not been

Glory achieved  149 thoroughly understood till the hand can write down or the mouth can explain what the mind has received’. 29 He reserved his six morning hours for the hardest study, and did his prose and verse writing in the evenings. He continued to send Margaret his study plan for her perusal. In early June Margaret received George’s letter announcing that he had won the Newdigate Prize. Her uncontained delight spilled over into her letter of the following day: ‘The first distinct idea that presented itself to my mind this morning was that my son, my only son, my pupil, my joy, had nobly distinguished himself!’30 A few days later there was more good news. George was to have the honour – traditionally accorded to a nobleman – of reading his verses first at the Encænia.31 ‘Again another triumph!’ exclaimed Margaret. ‘Is it not too much?’ More fame was to come George’s way in 1811, when his winning poem was published in an anthology of ­poetry.32 When George won the Newdigate Prize Spencer paid homage to him in verse, ‘To a Young Poet’, which he included in his 1811 Poems: ‘I  will be proud that I first taught | Thy wit with purer light to shine.’33 Margaret herself decided to write some elegiac verses in French in celebration. Spencer thought them so fine that he translated them into English and put them, too, in his Poems: ‘To George R. Chinnery Esq.’ Too happy George! whose Home contains The spur and guerdon of his pains! Who still can call on kindred love To guide, to censure, or approve; Alas for me! Whose youthful days Ne’er heard domestic blame or praise! No hopes of home my toils beguil’d, No sister there, no mother wept! What wonder if thy young renown So early claims the laurel crown? How sweet his toil who knows the prize He seeks will charm his sister’s eyes! When gain’d – his recompence how sweet, To place it at a mother’s feet!34 Perhaps more than anywhere else, it is in this poem, where she emphasises her own early emotional and educational privations, that is to be found the source of Margaret’s powerful ambition. She had no mother to guide her, no-one at home to take an interest in her studies; no family member ever praised or criticised her schoolwork. Lucky George, then, to have a mother, father and sister, and the two little girls (now twelve), not to mention Viotti and Spencer, who all shared in his triumph. Proud of her status as mother of the most prominent undergraduate performer, Margaret wished to obtain good seats in the Sheldonian

150  Glory achieved Theatre for the verse recitals. It was through the intervention of Spencer that she was able to enter the Theatre in the party of Lady Grenville herself. Spencer approached Lord Grenville’s brother Thomas, Speaker in the House of Commons, writing: Mrs Chinnery’s only son has not only gain’d the University prize for English verse, but has written so superiorly one of the complimentary addresses that the Vice Chancellor orders him to open the ceremony by reciting his own verses, against the establish’d practise of giving them to a nobleman to recite. Now this very extraordinary student had never any tutor (till he came to the University) except his mother. This mother and his twin sister of course are most anxious to witness his two triumphs, and there is no hope of obtaining them places unless Lady Grenville will allow them to sit in her box at the Oxford Theatre. I think with such powerful and interesting claims as these, she wou’d not hesitate to grant them this favour.35 When George won the English verse prize he thought it perfectly natural that his mother should take full credit for his success, and wrote that he was pleased to hear of all the congratulations she had been receiving in London, saying ‘I have no right to a greater share than yourself’.36 Margaret informed him that ‘The Duke of Cambridge came to congratulate me on the very day, he dines here tomorrow, when we shall drink your health. He told the Princess of Wales of it, who also sent me a very kind message’.37 Word of Margaret’s name as an educator spread throughout fashionable London, reaching various other members of the royal family. At the Princess of Wales’s party in late June Margaret was quizzed by the Duke of Gloucester about her education method. We spent last night at the Princess of Wales’s. Your sister’s success was most compleat and brilliant, and I came in for much commendation. HRH the Duke of Gloucester desired to be presented to me, and talked a great deal to me about you and Caroline, – enquired [of] every particular of your education, and when his Sister the Princess Sophie of Gloucester came to compliment me upon Caroline’s accomplishments, he said, “Yes and what is most extraordinary is, that Mrs Chinnery has herself educated her daughter, and her twin brother, who has just obtained a Prize at Oxford” &c and much more he added. The whole evening was one continued sense of success. 38 From the Chinnerys’ close family friend Pascoe Grenfell, who knew perhaps better than most the effort that Margaret had put into her children’s education, came a letter in which he graciously acknowledged her competence and dedication, those scarce qualities that were needed, the early

Glory achieved  151 reviewers of Adèle et Théodore said, to succeed with Genlis’s education plan. He wrote that she could be proud of her son and of herself, for he is “all your own” and though you have fortunately had excellent materials to work upon, I am sure that whatever he might have been without your Labours and Judgements, he would have fallen far short of where he will be now, coming as he does out of your own hands. You are among the few mothers who will submit to the privations (as they are called and perhaps justly called) which attend the Education of Children, and amongst the still fewer who possess the Qualifications necessary for such an undertaking.39 The travel writer Sir John Carr paid a similar compliment: You have lived to see the plants which you have cherished, which you have even secluded yourself from the world to cultivate, attain a strength and display of luxuriance of production which is rarely the lot of maternal fondness to contemplate.40 Carr had predicted George’s success, writing on the eve of the latter’s departure for Oxford that Margaret’s education plan had produced good, and would continue to produce good. Carr managed to grasp the nub of Margaret’s education aim in a single sentence. Margaret was ‘a Mother of no ordinary rank’ who in the discharge of her most sacred duties, had ‘united Genius to Affection, and enriched the mind with all the charms and graces of culture, yet preserved to it the purity of Infancy’.41 The last was the basis on which all else rested: innocence and Christian simplicity, fundamental values for most eighteenth-century education writers. Margaret wrote to Genlis, enclosing a copy of the winning verses, and the educator’s voice joined the chorus of congratulations that were showered on her: ‘What a triumph! How I understand your happiness! How just it is that the most enlightened and best of mothers is also the happiest’.42 In the midst of all this adulation, Margaret insisted that her children retain their humility. She was just as well pleased by the comments contained in the congratulatory letter from Christ Church canon and future Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Howley, praising her son’s ‘general conduct and deportment’43 as she was by his praise of George’s intellectual strengths: ‘I am more than ever confirmed in the opinion, that a good heart and a religious mind will go much further in success in all possible ways than the finest talents and the most splendid genius without them’.44 The Morning Chronicle of 5 July 1810, in its coverage of the Oxford Encænia, complimented George fulsomely: The last composition recited from the rostrum was the English verses on the Statue of the Dying Gladiator, by Mr Chinnery, a young Gentleman

152  Glory achieved of Christ’s Church: short as this poem is (the candidate being restricted to the number of 50 lines), the youthful favourite of the Muses, who now reaped his first chaplet, has contrived to crowd many beauties into his production, and in its delivery he did as much credit to the oratorical, as he had before done to the poetical portion of his labour; if labour it might be called, which appeared to be the unsolicited emanation of genius. Of this, all were judges, and the universal suffrage in favour of the poet, must have been most gratifying to so young a votary of the Muses. Indeed, all who heard George recite his verses were impressed, as much by his delivery as by the poem itself. Margaret had followed the advice in Quintilian’s Institutes of Eloquence, in which he stressed that the young man must practise when to take a breath, when to lay stress on a word, when to raise or lower his voice, when to speak slowly or quickly, with spirit or softly and that when he read a poem his pronunciation must be manly and serious, yet sweet. What it must not be was prosaic, because a poem was a song.45 Two influential Whig politicians admired George’s delivery. One was George Tierney. Caroline reported to her father, who had had to leave the Encænia early, that he had said of George ‘“If Mr Chinnery thinks as he speaks he will become anything he pleases”!’46 Two days later at a private dinner Margaret had some conversation with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, who remarked to her that ‘“[George] may do what he likes in this country”.’47 Margaret’s ambitions for George soared. She now expected him to be ‘one of the most fashionable and one of the cleverest men in College’.48 She also demanded that he cultivate all the ‘tufts’ (noblemen) in College, and actively woo Fortune, for you are not to imagine that Fortune will ever come to you in any shape, neither as society, or fame, or any thing else. No, you must not only go to her but you must pursue her closely and vigorously until you can grasp her firmly, and even then not let go your hold till she has done what you ask of her.49 The Installation took place six months before the beginning of the Prince of Wales’s regency, and it was well known that Sheridan was one of the prince’s most trusted friends and advisers. Sheridan had liked George’s poem, praised his rendition of it in the Theatre and had asked for a copy of it to present to the prince. Another Chinnery friend who was close to the prince was the ex-Lord Chancellor (now a member of the Whig minority in parliament), Lord Erskine. Margaret calculated that George’s chances of acquiring influential patronage were good.50 In November 1811 George was to take his degree examination. Margaret commented that there remained only a few finishing touches before her ‘work’ was perfect. The blemishes to be eradicated consisted of slovenly habits acquired at an all-male college, where, she said, a lack of the civilising influence of women caused a degradation of personal graces and

Glory achieved  153 a general roughness in manner, or as Margaret called it, ‘College rust’. 51 ‘What better school for manners than the company of virtuous women?’ wrote Hume.52 Margaret agreed with Hume, and with Locke, who advocated for men to have a pleasing demeanour in society: ‘A graceful way and fashion in everything, is that which gives the ornament and liking’. 53 Like Cicero, she wished to ‘engraft the elegance of manners upon the practice of morality’.54 She much regretted the need to polish off the College rust during each vacation, only to have to begin again at the end of the following term. She believed that it was ‘the absolutely unrestrained liberty’ enjoyed by the young men at Oxford, and the lack of ‘fixed moral and religious principles’ that caused deep-set problems, which inevitably influenced their external manner and bearing. ‘The want of due control in youth, occasions want of order, method, and regularity in the interiour [sic]; and the exterior becomes less polished, less graceful, and consequently less pleasing’.55 For example, George’s voice was too loud. In a lesson reminiscent of Lord Chesterfield’s letters to his son, or of Genlis’s compositions on appropriate princely behaviour delivered to her royal pupils some thirty years before, 56 Margaret gave him instructions on voice modulation: A ‘low and subdued’ tone for women, ‘not much louder, but somewhat firmer for Princes, persons of acknowledged great abilities and talents or of advanced age’ and ‘another full of variety and agreeableness […] for common purposes’, and ‘among the various shades, there is one admirably adapted to conversation’.57 Six months later Margaret had found the perfect role model for George. It was the experimental philosopher Adam Walker, 58 a ‘profound’ and well-travelled scholar, who visited Gillwell in June 1811 with Lord Elgin59 and whom Margaret found ‘almost the most delightful man I ever met with!’ Part of Walker’s appeal for Margaret, apart from his voice and manner, may have been the fact that he believed in education for all: his fashionable scientific lectures were open to the poor and to women, who were barred from established academies. Margaret wrote that she would not be sorry if George could ‘catch the softness and enthusiasm of his manner, which is […] expressed by the modulation of his voice (always rather an under voice), and the choice of his expressions’.60 Margaret said nothing more of Lord Elgin in that letter, but a month before, in a letter which shows her disregard for public opinion, she had written of her unqualified admiration of the Elgin marbles, which, if they were admired by artists, were not by the public, who followed arbiters of taste such as Richard Payne Knight, who declared them to be over-rated.61 Ironically, in Knight’s 1805 work on taste, he wrote that ‘established authority, both in literature and art, is so imposing, that few men have the courage openly to revolt against it’.62 Margaret had that courage, and revolting against Knight’s own authority, enthused over both the marbles and the seventy-three-year-old Benjamin West’s drawings of them. Oh what ardour, what enthusiasm, what an enterprising spirit he possesses at his advanced age. I was excessively ardent in my admiration

154  Glory achieved of the treasures Lord Elgin brought from Greece. I talked of them in town, I talked of them in the country, but never saw any one warmed with the subject. They were by all admitted to be fine, but with a sort of coldness that chilled me. See now what use West has made of them. That magnificent picture you saw in town owes perhaps its chief merit to his study of the works of Phidias at Lord Elgin’s! He has copied the figures of that divine artist, and in other pictures he has copied most of the principal figures and groups in that invaluable collection, and most ingeniously formed them into classical compositions of his own! Really I am delighted with the idea, and still more to think that a man of his age should possess such inimitable finish and spirit!63 En route to Oxford at the beginning of first term 1811, George and several other Christ Church friends passed two days with the Grenfells at Taplow to attend a party. This occasioned a lesson from Margaret on the art of letter-writing. George had apologised for speaking too much of himself.64 On the contrary, Margaret replied, his letter did not speak enough of himself. It was far too general. What gave spice to any narration, she explained, was the detail, and more specifically, details about oneself. The secret was, she said, to make oneself the centre of the narration. (This was much the same observation that Elizabeth Smith made to a friend about letter-writing: ‘I want to know what you are doing, thinking, and feeling, because that interests me’.65) Margaret went on, When you write to your mother, or when hereafter you may write to your wife, or any real and affectionate bosom friend, pray remember never to leave out yourself in your descriptive sketches. Be assured it is the first object such readers look for […] Whatever is general might interest our reason, but it leaves us perfectly cold and insensible as though we were contemplating pictures and busts. For this reason letters written to imaginary persons, or written with a view to publication, as they say Pliny’s were, are of all compositions the most dull and tiresome […] Madme de Sévigné fully understood this little corner of the human heart. Though her letters are now above an hundred years old they are read with delight, and have all the freshness of a new production. Why? Because the human heart is ever the same […] The great art of Madme de Sévigné is certainly to represent herself as saying, acting, and doing all she relates, or as being present actively in feeling and attention during all her narration, which makes the reader even at this distance of time fancy himself present also. George was not to think that this was an affair of study. It is only one of feeling, as may be as well accomplished in a note of half a dozen lines, as in a letter of several pages. The secret is, to let the

Glory achieved  155 correspondent know what one’s own thoughts and feelings were, what dispositions were excited in ourselves, who or what most influenced these.66 This, she said, would give ‘a spark of Promethean fire’ to his narration. She wished he would ‘now and then read a letter of Madme de Sévigné’s’.67 In reading for his degree examination George, like Margaret, found the demands of the University to be diametrically opposed to good education practice. I do not at all approve of the system of the School Examinations here: they force us to take up a much greater body of books than can be done well: the attention is divided between too great a variety of objects, so that before it can thoroughly attend to one, it is called aside to another. This is what I find most fatiguing, and it is quite overpowering at times: my mind has to apply successively to branches of study perfectly heterogeneous with respect to each other, Logic, Rhetoric, Divinity, four treatises of Ethics, Conic Sections, Mechanics, Newton, Hydrostatics, Algebra, Fluxions, Thucydides, Sophocles, Pindar, Juvenal and Lucretius.68 The labour involved in reading both ethics and mathematics, as well as classics for an honours degree, was so great that in 1811 only George and one other did so. More than anything else, the degree examination was a test of memory. The cramming of undigested, unrelated and, for the most part, useless facts into the heads of the undergraduates had always been a bone of contention with Margaret. As an aide-mémoire, she reminded George of one of her first principles of education, the need to commit one’s thoughts to paper, either by letter-writing or by entering them in a commonplace book, ‘for you must know that till a thought is either spoken or written, we cannot be sure that it is either good or compleat’.69 When George’s letter-writing flagged owing to the sheer pressure of study, Margaret castigated him severely and unreasonably, wanting a far more detailed account of his days. He responded in stronger tones than he had ever before used with her, while still conveying his Genlisian sense of gratitude: I think I may say, my dear mother, that my time is pretty equally divided into two parts, the one in endeavouring to distinguish myself, the other in endeavouring to please you and to make some kind of remuneration, however imperfect it must always be, for the advantages I owe you.70 One month before the examination, Margaret did an about-turn and took a different tack. In a valiant effort to be realistic about the pressures George was facing, she told him that his mental and physical well-being was not

156  Glory achieved worth sacrificing to the whim of the examiners: ‘it matters little what may be the decision of those who have given so many proofs of caprice’. If he were one day to become ‘a public character’ he must expect to meet with checks now and then. Besides, ‘a wise man should never, and seldom is, taken by surprise’. She continued: It is a most useful habit throughout life to calculate chances and possibilities as well as the probabilities, with regard to events. Many evils are avoided, and a great deal of what is called good luck, or success is produced by this practice of anticipation.71 However, George’s father, who relied on Providence more than Margaret, was confident that his early education would stand him in good stead, writing to Margaret: ‘With such Powers of Body and Habit of Exertion of Mind what may he not accomplish hereafter with the Assistance of Providence and your mundane guidance!!!’72 George knew that it was important to impress the examiners by his demeanour. After many years of tuition from his mother he knew exactly what was required to tip a judge in his favour: ‘a just degree of Confidence, united to Modesty and Self-possession are at once requisites for the person examined and sure means of captivating the good disposition of the examiner’.73 In Margaret’s view, the surest way of exuding confidence and self-possession was to have a good command of public speaking. George also had stamina. He was three full days in the Schools, and his stock of knowledge impressed the examiners. George believed that his answers in mathematics, ethics, rhetoric and logic were near perfect, and he was confident of obtaining first class honours, of course I mean in Mathematics; for in Classics Corne and Lloyd always told me that I was not a sufficiently well grounded scholar, and have kept saying so to the last, so I must take my chances for this’.74 George’s prefatory ‘of course’ is telling. He had clearly discussed this insufficiency in the classics with Margaret, who would, privately at least, have had to admit to a second deficiency in her education plan: the local parish curates and George’s German tutor together had been unable to offer the same depth of grounding in the classics as a traditional school education would have done. At boys’ schools the rigorous inculcation of the classics into their pupils had existed for centuries, and the system at the great public schools such as Harrow, Eton and Westminster fed into the university system. (Westminster School, for example, had, and still has, a particularly close affiliation with Christ Church College through its studentships.75) That local curates were no substitute for these schools is shown by Dean Jackson’s surprise during his first conversation with George that he had

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not studied Homer and that he had begun his Greek studies with the most difficult authors, expostulating, ‘Well your Rev. John Mullens is a fool!’76 In the end George was awarded first class honours in mathematics and a third in classics. If the third in classics was a disappointment, given George’s sincere love of Latin and Greek poetry, neither he nor Margaret spoke of it in a letter. Margaret must have expected this outcome, as she pronounced her most ardent wishes to have been satisfied. Her congratulatory letter speaks of George’s just rewards: the happiness he has given to his loved ones, the reputation he has acquired at College and above all, the ‘universal esteem you have obtained, and which I hear of from all quarters, will follow you through life, and like a protecting angel, will shield you from a thousand evils!’ Confident that this reputation, coupled with his good character, his perseverance and his industry, would assure his future success, she writes with a final optimistic flourish ‘What can stop you dear George?’77

Notes 1 MC to GRC, 10 November 1809, Ch.Ch. The first and second editions of John Parkhurst’s Greek and English Lexicon to the New Testament (1769 and 1794), were prefixed by a ‘plain and easy’ Greek grammar. 2 Bowdler, ed., p. 40. 3 MC to GRC, 17 February 1810, Ch.Ch. 4 Addison entreated men not to venture out until they had read his new publication, promising them that he would ‘daily instil into them such sound and wholesome Sentiments, as shall have a good Effect on their Conversation for the ensuing twelve Hours’ (Spectator, 12 March 1711). 5 MC to GRC, 13 February and 17 February 1810, Ch.Ch. 6 MC to GRC, 15 February 1810, Ch.Ch. 7 Montaigne, I, 146. 8 MC to GRC, 17 October 1810, Ch.Ch. 9 MC to GRC, 26 March 1811, Ch.Ch. 10 Ibid. 11 MC to GRC, 17 October 1810, Ch.Ch. 12 MC to GRC, 2 February 1809, Ch.Ch. 13 The Edinburgh Review, April 1810, pp. 158–87. 14 Ibid., pp. 161, 178. 15 MC to GRC, 1 March 1810, Ch.Ch. 16 GRC to MC, 2 March 1810, Ch.Ch. 17 MC to GRC, 1 March 1810, Ch.Ch. 18 ‘Memoirs of the Life […] of Alfieri’, reviewed in the Edinburgh Review, January 1810, p. 274. 19 MC to GRC, 10 March 1810, Ch.Ch. 20 Eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century London newspapers were full of advertisements for teaching French to young ladies. One teacher advertised that his method would allow his pupils soon to be able to converse ‘in that fashionable language’ (The Morning Herald and Daily Advertiser, 18 December 1781). 21 GRC to MC, 9 December 1808, Ch.Ch. 22 GRC to MC, 26 February 1810, Ch.Ch.

158 Glory achieved 23 Contained in his five-volume Antiquité expliquée et représentée en figures (1716). 24 GRC to MC, 26 February 1810, Ch.Ch. 25 Probably part of his four-volume Annales du Musée et de l’Ecole Moderne des Beaux Arts (1810–21); GRC to MC, 22 March 1810, Ch.Ch. 26 Reported in MC to GRC, [May 1810], Ch.Ch., MS xlviii a. 50, fol. 6. There is a four-page account of the Encænia in the Gentleman’s Magazine, July 1810, pp. 69–72, and daily accounts in the Morning Chronicle, 2–6 July 1810, showing that it was indeed an event of national interest. 27 MC to GRC, 12 May 1810, Ch.Ch. 28 MC to GRC, 28 February 1810, Ch.Ch. 29 GRC to MC, 23 February 1810, Ch.Ch. 30 MC to GRC, 13 June 1810, Ch.Ch. 31 GRC to MC, 17 June 1810, Ch.Ch. 32 Poetical Selections, p. 223. It had also been published in the Gentleman’s Magazine of July 1810, pp. 61–62. 33 Spencer, Poems (1811), p. 138. 34 Ibid., pp. 128–29. 35 WRS to Thomas Grenville, enclosed in Thomas Grenville to Lady William Wyndham Grenville, 26–27 June 1810, Report on the Manuscripts of J.B. Fortescue, X, 47; See also Thomas Grenville to WRS, 28 June 1810, Ch.Ch. 36 GRC to MC, 17 June 1810, Ch.Ch. 37 MC to GRC, [16 June 1810], Ch.Ch., MS xlviii a. 50, fol. 111v. 38 MC to GRC, 25 June 1810, Ch.Ch. 39 Pascoe Grenfell to MC, 22 June 1810, Ch.Ch. 40 Sir John Carr to MC, 28 July 1810, Fisher 2000–1/7. 41 Sir John Carr to MC, 5 January 1808, Fisher 2000–1/5. 42 Genlis to MC, 8 August 1810, in the Fisher collection of Chinnery papers (uncatalogued). 43 William Howley to MC, [June 1810], Ch.Ch., MS xlviii a. 50, fol. 124. 44 MC to GRC, 27 June 1810, Ch.Ch. 45 Quintilian, I, 37. 46 CC to WBC, in MC to WBC, 6 July 1810, Fisher 2000–18/10. 47 Reported in MC to WBC, [8 July 1810], Fisher 2000–18/11. 48 MC to GRC, 18 October 1810, Ch.Ch. 49 MC to GRC, 21 October 1810, Ch.Ch. 50 MC to GRC, 22 November 1810, Ch.Ch. 51 MC to GRC, 20 January 1811, Ch.Ch. 52 Hume, I, 140. 53 Locke, Concerning Education, p. 94. 54 Cicero, p. vii. 55 MC to GRC, 20 January 1811, Ch.Ch. 56 Some of these are reproduced in her Mémoires, III, 272–87. 57 MC to GRC, 20 January 1811, Ch.Ch. 58 Adam Walker was a virtuoso experimenter in electricity, who travelled the country giving talks and demonstrations. See Fairclough, ‘Adam Walker’, lecture of 5 March 2015. Walker was also the author of two travel books, one on the continent (1790) and one on England (1792). 59 Thomas Bruce, 7th Earl of Elgin, was a diplomat who, in 1801, was given permission by the Ottoman Porte to remove some ancient marbles from the Parthenon in Athens. He was not able to deposit them in the British Museum until 1816. 60 MC to GRC, 24 June 1811, Ch.Ch.

Glory achieved 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

Pevsner, pp. 298–99; Kelly, p. 264. Knight, p. 3. MC to GRC, 13 May 1811, Ch.Ch. GRC to MC, 20 January 1811, Ch.Ch. Bowdler, ed., p. 96. MC to GRC, 22 January 1811, Ch.Ch. Ibid. GRC to MC, 22 October 1811, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 7 August 1811, Ch.Ch. GRC to MC, 20 August 1811, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 16 October 1811, Ch.Ch. WBC to MC, 14 November 1811, Ch.Ch. GRC to MC, 31 October 1811, Ch.Ch. GRC to MC, 17 November 1811, Ch.Ch. See Bill, pp. 91–95. Reported in GRC to MC, 15 January 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to GRC, 18 November 1811, Ch.Ch.

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9

George’s career

In this last chapter I hope to show what the real outcome of George’s education was. Did virtue, academic glory and manners lead to success in his career? Was he able to be useful to his country? By following George Chinnery’s education from cradle to grave we are granted a rare opportunity of seeing the practical results of a successful education, even if they were affected by circumstances beyond his control.

Double calamity Straight after Caroline’s brilliant showing at the prince regent’s Pavilion at Brighton, Margaret wrote to the Duke of Cambridge, knowing that he would be shortly meeting with his brother. The duke responded with the words that she wished to hear: the prince had ‘spoke[n] with raptures of Caroline and of her incisive Talents’.1 Margaret was shoring up support for both her children before an uncertain future. By now she knew of her husband’s financial distress and must have hoped that Caroline and George’s reputation in influential circles would help protect them from any unpleasant repercussions to come. The years 1810 and 1811 had shone a spotlight on the Chinnery family: George had had an illustrious academic career, and Caroline’s musical knowledge and performance skills were the toast of London and Brighton. Both children, now adults, were extremely talented, yet remained modest and sensible, and all who knew them liked them. Margaret’s education plan and philosophy had been well and truly vindicated, fulfilling all the criteria that both Genlis and the British educators demanded. But William’s financial troubles had been simmering in the background since 1806. Just before her birthday in 1810 Margaret informed the twins of their father’s acute predicament (there was an immense deficit in his Treasury books), and both, as can be seen from the two preceding chapters, made extraordinary exertions to please their mother. Both George and Caroline composed consolatory birthday verses. Margaret’s relief on receiving the results of George’s degree examination a year later had been twofold: first, that he had completed his degree before William’s troubles became

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-10

George’s career  161 public, and second, that the degree had been sufficiently brilliant to ensure him patronage with which to secure a respectable career, should he become Margaret’s sole means of support, a possibility which George himself acknowledged and accepted. 2 The reason William Chinnery had had to leave Oxford at the very moment that his son was about to deliver his recitations on the glittering stage of the 1810 Encænia was that he had received a letter from his old benefactor George Rose, informing him that he suspected that William was living beyond his means and that he intended to convey his suspicions to the prime minister Spencer Perceval.3 Rose believed that William might have been abusing his position of trust at the Treasury and that public money might be in jeopardy. It was not until after the summer adjournment that Perceval acted on Rose’s letter, calling upon William to explain himself on 20 September 1810.4 William unburdened himself to Margaret, and Margaret advised her husband in much the same way as she had George, when he joined his first debating set at Oxford. Stressing the importance of demeanour, gesticulation and expression to George, she had told him, ‘You have received from nature an expressive countenance, let your thoughts be painted on it, and try to make it give point and force to your words’.5 Using the same principles, but adapted to a very different situation, she counselled William that he should not let his despondency show on his face. Using musical metaphors, she wrote: Let what will happen… I have uniformly observed that it is almost always possible for us to give the shade if not the colour we please to occurrences. The hearer is, malgrès lui, impressed with our sensations. He hears in the same key in which we speak, and cannot help receiving impressions from us, so that things may be made great or small, high or low, at the will of the speaker.6 This was astute advice, which could have come straight from Quintilian, who wrote on persuading a judge in court to be sympathetic to the pleader’s case, ‘Therefore, though we may not need to inform a judge, but to give him a certain impression, it is necessary that we should lay our case before him, but in a dress suitable to our design’.7 On that occasion William had been able to explain away the discrepancies in his account books to Perceval’s satisfaction, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before the true, deplorable state of his affairs was discovered. William had told Margaret that his accounts were in disarray owing to his excessive workload during the Napoleonic wars. What he did not tell her was that he had been juggling his books in order to cover up the burgeoning deficit. A lax auditing system (which was later reformed) meant that William’s manoeuvres were not detected.8 To recoup the money William pinned all his hopes on profits from shares he had taken in government loans, issued to fund the war with France. The crucial card was pulled

162  George’s career from William’s house of cards when he accepted his prominent banker friend Abraham Goldsmid’s offer to advance him the entire sum needed for his last share, along with the promise to pass on any profits thereby ensuing.9 But the loan made a huge loss, part of the reason for the spectacular failure of the Goldsmid banking house. By 1810 both Goldsmid brothers were dead by suicide and the executors of their estate instituted proceedings against William for the amount owing to them.10 William’s defalcation was finally discovered in March 1812. In his letter to Perceval pleading for clemency, William (unsuccessfully) appealed to the prime minister as a father. He cited his son’s brilliant career at Oxford and his daughter’s ‘dreadful suffering’ over the past four months.11 Indeed, Caroline’s health had been deteriorating ever since the family’s return from Brighton in November 1811. She was taken to London for treatment in March 1812 and died soon after (3 April 181212) in William Spencer’s house from what was, according to the autopsy,13 clearly tuberculosis, which she had contracted a long time before. Her condition had been exacerbated by whooping cough. Spencer himself had been with his relatives in different parts of the country for the previous three months and was unaware how critically ill Caroline was. The whole of London society knew of the Chinnerys’ double calamity, and their acquaintances were shocked, especially as Caroline’s death came so soon after the prince regent’s very public praise of her at the Pavilion. The artist Joseph Farington wrote in his Diary that he remembered that Caroline had been remarkably accomplished in languages and in music. He wrongly believed that she had had the measles. But he was much closer to the truth when he wrote that ‘an incipient consumption which followed was supposed to be forwarded by her attending at parties at late hours at the Prince Regent’s Pavilion the last autumn’.14 Margaret’s short 1812–13 diary documents a period of unimaginable suffering. Facing her husband’s imminent dismissal from his post (17 March 181215) and her daughter’s death seventeen days later, she pondered what she would do with the rest of her life ‘when neither literature nor the arts, nor even the beauties of nature would remain to me’.16 Nowhere in the Chinnery writings is Margaret’s pivotal role in the family and her self-conscious awareness of her stewardship of it made clearer. I am become useless in my own family, I who till now have seemed the animating principle of the whole. I can do nothing. I cannot discover any means of alleviating the sorrows and misfortunes of these dear objects of my tender affection, than by sharing it with them!17 Whereas in the past she had been the able family matriarch, who managed the estate, ran a tightly regulated education programme and was the person every family member turned to for advice, she now felt impotent. In

George’s career  163 reflecting on the past, she acknowledged her blessings, dwelt on her children’s virtues. My lot in life has been singularly favoured, since I can count twenty years of happiness, and but for this stroke who would have compared their lot to mine? I own that I have been sometimes frightened at the success and prosperity that seemed to follow me, my children exceeding my most extravagant hopes, the world receiving them with open arms, their fame, the general shew of admiration, and besides all this worldly glory and honour, to possess a lovely quiet home, an affectionate husband, a faithful and excellent friend [Viotti], and to see my children not only deservedly praised for their talents, but to know and feel in the privacy of retirement that their piety and virtuous conduct were far beyond the opinion, high as that is, that the world has formed of them.18 Like most Government defaulters, William fled. Hoping to be able to establish himself as a trader and to repay his debt, he chose Gothenburg as his destination.19 He departed on 26 March, 20 never to return, his debt of £88,00021 never to be repaid. The Chinnery defalcation was discussed in the House of Commons on 25 March. Rose, who explained the circumstances to the House, thought Chinnery’s conduct ‘scandalous in the extreme, and admitting of no exculpation’. To Margaret’s humiliation, this was reported in The Times the following day and reprinted two months later in the Gentleman’s Magazine. 22 The outcome of the carefully planned education Margaret had given her children, therefore, could not have been further from the one she had originally envisaged. In Genlis’s 1814 letter of condolence on the death of Caroline (the one she had written in 1812 was lost in the post) she commiserated with Margaret as one who had also lost a daughter the same age. Genlis understood perfectly Margaret’s feelings, but also her education aim. She knew how gifted Caroline had been: How bitter you will feel to hear mediocre talents praised […] You who are so indulgent will no longer be so towards young ladies. You will judge them harshly, and understandably so, as you will not be able to help making a painful comparison. You will watch their successes with secret bitterness. 23 She wrote bluntly that Margaret’s pains were wasted, her plans shattered, her fondest hopes destroyed. Then, striking surely at the heart of Margaret’s personal education ambition: ‘And the mother’s glory – such a pure and cherished glory – snatched from you forever’.24 For, according to Genlis, the mother-educator was entitled to bask in the reflected glory of her children’s

164  George’s career success, and indeed Margaret had done so over the previous two years, as explicitly stated in the above quote from her Diary. (William Chinnery made the same observation when discussing with Margaret George’s prospects of a situation worthy of him: ‘it is for your Honour and Glory, dearest Peg, as well as his’.25) Genlis understood that Margaret would never recover from the loss of her daughter, but that ‘virtue’ – she meant Christian resignation – would enable her to bear her pain courageously, and that tender affections would continue to tie her to life. ‘You will live’, she pronounced, ‘if not for your happiness, then for that of others’.26

Clerk at the Treasury Genlis’s prognostication was correct. Margaret agonised over what fate held for her son, ‘just come from College blessed with every good and excellent quality of the heart and head’.27 Surprisingly, Perceval offered him a position as a junior clerk at the Treasury, much to William’s mortification. William considered the post nothing more than ‘mean official drudgery’,28 that it was not worthy of George and that his ‘real acquirements’ were misplaced (which was certainly true).29 This was certainly not what Margaret had had in mind for George, but it was offered with such kind intention that she thought it prudent to accept. The diplomat Francis Jackson, who had been at Margaret’s Tunbridge parties, and who had witnessed Caroline’s favour with the prince at Brighton, had a high opinion of the talents of both George and Caroline. In writing to his brother of the Chinnery scandal, he remarked of Caroline, ‘A more accomplished and apparently amiable girl I have rarely met with’, and of George, ‘Young Chinnery, who is a twin brother of the poor girl, and a youth of great talent, has been promised by Perceval some place that will afford him a subsistence’.30 The artist Farington, too, commented in his diary on the ironic Treasury appointment, and was correct in his statement of the £80 a year salary.31 For George this was indeed a mere ‘subsistence’. Even while studying at Oxford his father had allowed him £300 a year32 (£400 in his final year33), not counting all the extras. Contrary to Margaret’s expectations, George soon began receiving invitations into society. She was convinced that he owed all these invitations to ‘his misfortunes through us’, not to his own personal merits.34 Margaret underestimated the respect George commanded. Perhaps it was testament to her own success in instilling in him all those qualities that society admired, that society, with very few exceptions, never turned its back on him. The elite body of Christ Church graduates certainly held him in high esteem. It was Richard Wellesley, nephew of the future Duke of Wellington, who invited George to become an original member of the United Universities Club in June 1812, just three months after the Chinnery scandal broke. 35 Years later the Marquess of Titchfield (son of the 4th Duke of Portland and also a graduate of Christ Church College) was proud to enter George’s name on a list of original members he was drawing up for the Club, writing

George’s career  165 flatteringly to him, ‘When you thought it might be necessary to tell me your University, you must have suspected me of strange ignorance as to who are to be considered as the “distinguished sons” of Oxford’.36 Indeed, as a distinguished graduate of Christ Church College and an esteemed friend of its dean, Charles Henry Hall, George possessed two of the criteria that were needed to achieve his ambition of a parliamentary career, a good liberal education and patronage. The third, and most important one, was wealth, which he lacked. It was not only to Oxford that George could look for protection. His father’s connections with senior members of parliament, many of whom still remained friendly, and with the royal family, were powerful ones, not to be broken by a defalcation that the prince regent did not consider a felony, 37 and that his brother the Duke of Cambridge did not think serious enough to break off a longstanding friendship with the miscreant’s wife, to whom he wrote a letter of condolence, enclosing a copy of Blair’s Sermons.38 Of course Margaret already owned a copy of this popular eighteenth-century book, but now it was offered as spiritual succour, as many such books then were. The duke declared his support for the family by asserting that he would ‘never […] miss an opportunity of assisting George’.39 All the letters that Adolphus Frederick wrote to Margaret after 1812 express an interest in George’s career, even if his two concrete attempts to help (in 1812 and 1814) failed. The failure of someone as influential as the king’s son to secure a post for his protégé points up the extreme difficulty of getting the situation of one’s choice in the eighteenth/early nineteenth century, even for a young man without George’s severe handicap. Merit came a poor last in the stakes. Sometimes fathers already in parliament had trouble finding a post for their sons.40 Even members of the nobility, however well-connected, could not always have their way where patronage was concerned. This was the case for Spencer himself, when family members twice failed to procure him a desired post. Sometimes the quid pro quo method of rendering a service to a friend prevented a second favour being asked,41 and sometimes the seeker of the favour had to give way to someone higher in the pecking-order.42 As for contesting an election, enormous wealth was needed. In 1812 the Liverpool supporters of the ex-foreign minister George Canning paid up to twenty and thirty guineas a vote to secure his representation in parliament.43 In early March 1812 (before the Chinnery scandal broke) William Spencer hinted at the possibility of obtaining for George a parliamentary seat in the pocket of the Marlborough family, who liked him. He wrote to Caroline from Blenheim that he thought ‘we shall contrive sometime or other to get him into one of the family boroughs’.44 It was then common practice for great estate owners to coerce or bribe the local population to vote for their man, and Margaret would have seen this no differently from seeking patronage from any other person of influence. In the end, George’s aspirations to enter parliament were irredeemably damaged by his father’s scandal and the Marlboroughs quickly dropped their support for him.

166  George’s career

First attempts to enter the diplomatic service Having given up on his first career choice, George now turned to his second, the diplomatic service. When William spoke of George’s ‘real acquirements’ being wasted in the Treasury, he meant his linguistic skills, which were far superior to those of any of the young men then employed in foreign legations. According to William, many young men who had worked in the Foreign Office had gone on to become ministers at foreign courts, even though their education did not fit them for it.45 The secretaries at these legations were usually rich sons of peers, who were in no way qualified for their duties and showed little interest in them.46 Most of them knew neither German or French ‘the one the key to the North, the other the key to the South of Europe’.47 When George did finally obtain a posting abroad (1824–25) he found ample evidence of these failings. At her solicitor’s suggestion, Margaret made an application through the Duke of Cambridge to Lord Castlereagh to take George into the Foreign Office, where his skills and competence in the modern languages would have been of real use. But Castlereagh refused, replying that he was ‘already provided with a Secretary’,48 who was, like Castlereagh, an old Etonian, and appointed on the strength of school ties rather than on merit. Castlereagh was not prepared to consider a member of a disgraced family with whom he had no family, school or social connections, and strongly resisted two further overtures made on George’s behalf. Both were to missions of Charles William Stewart (Castlereagh’s half-brother), and the last intervention was made by the Duke of Cambridge.49 Margaret lost this powerful protector in 1814, when George III appointed him governor of Hanover, and he left England. When the prime minister Spencer Perceval was assassinated in May 1812 he was succeeded by an old Christ Church graduate, Lord Liverpool. The new prime minister offered the foreign secretaryship to his Christ Church friend George Canning, who was to become George’s future patron. But unfortunately for George, Canning wanted to be leader of the House as well, and this not being granted to him, he lost both situations. Castlereagh therefore remained British foreign minister for the following ten years, during the period of the Bourbon Restoration and the reconstruction of Europe after the Napoleonic wars.

Bursar to Louis XVIII at the Bourbon Restoration In April 1814 Napoleon abdicated and Louis XVIII was declared King of France. Margaret hoped that a diplomatic opportunity might open up for George in France. However, the new British ambassador to France was Viscount Wellington, who was occupied with army commitments and delegated most of the duties to Castlereagh, who, although knowing hardly a word of French, took no steps to provide himself with a secretary who

George’s career  167 did.50 Nor did Castlereagh have the pleasing manners that might be expected of an ambassador. The American minister in London, John Quincy Adams, found that although his deportment was graceful and his person handsome, ‘his manner was cold’, if not ‘absolutely repulsive’.51 It was William’s friend the British commissary general John Herries, who handed George his first foreign mission. George was appointed bursar to Louis XVIII52 on his historic journey from England to France at the time of the Bourbon Restoration. The appointment was glamorous, but short-term. Herries’s official letter states that on the orders of the ‘Lords Commissaries of His Majesty’s Treasury’ George was to have charge of the boxes of specie (totalling £17,500) with which to provide for the needs of His Most Christian Majesty on his voyage.53 On his arrival in Paris, he was to obtain receipts for the money handed over and return immediately to England. It is ironic that the son of such a spectacularly public defaulter as William should have been entrusted with such a mission. But George’s good reputation was such that neither Herries nor the lords of the Treasury ever doubted his probity. While in Paris George stayed with Viotti’s close friend the composer Luigi Cherubini, who was now in charge of the king’s music. He paid a visit to Madame de Genlis, who wrote to Margaret that she had been happy to see George but was disappointed that he had not stayed with her. Genlis had not seen George since he was eleven years old, and she found that he had grown into a handsome, amiable and accomplished young man. What she most admired in him was the way he spoke of his mother, adding that she was ‘difficile’ (inflexible) on this point. 54 This was no doubt a reference to George’s expressions of gratitude to his mother for his education. (Gratitude to one’s mentor was a hallmark of Genlis’s education policy.) The French courtier and long-standing Chinnery friend the comte de Vaudreuil, who had sought asylum in England during the Revolutionary wars, and who had participated in the Gillwell evening readings when the twins were children, had also returned to France with Louis XVIII, and been made governor of the Louvre. In spite of the bustle attending his new appointment, he made time to write to George, asking especially to see him, for his company, he said, ‘would please him enormously’.55 On his return to England George completed the requirements for his M.A. degree (1814), which involved periodic trips to Oxford, where he continued his friendship with the Dean of Christ Church, Charles Hall. When his last petition to the Stewart brothers failed George had recourse to the dean. Like his predecessor Cyril Jackson, Hall maintained close links with old Christ Church men, many of whom occupied high places in government (there were seven Christ Church prime ministers of England in the late eighteenth/early nineteenth century) and who were in a position to offer patronage to those graduates who the powerful dean thought deserved it. When George asked Hall for assistance, the latter responded promptly: ‘I will write to Lord Liverpool without delay and tell him what I sincerely

168  George’s career feel, think, and wish about you: it will give me sincere pleasure if my letter should produce any consequences advantageous to you’. 56 In fact, the dean was the conduit by which George met George Canning in 1814.57 With Canning George had better luck than with the Stewart brothers. As a result of the dean’s letter, Canning requested a meeting with George, gained a favourable impression of him, and George’s fortunes were reversed.

Protégé of George Canning It was fitting that where George had met with failure in obtaining the support of the high Stewart lords, he found success with their nemesis, an able, sharp-witted, sharp-tongued commoner with an indefatigable capacity for work, who had fought a duel with Castlereagh in 1809. Moreover, Canning was someone to whom George was more intellectually suited. A brilliant orator, whose eloquence was widely acknowledged, Canning would inspire George’s admiration, loyalty and affection. In 1815, when Canning was in Lisbon as ambassador extraordinaire to receive the Portuguese regent from Brazil, he invited George to join him as his private secretary. George took eight months leave of absence from the Treasury and did so. When Canning returned from Lisbon in the spring of 1816, he was reelected member for Liverpool. But one of the ‘inevitable consequences’ of the financial support given to Canning by a wealthy Liverpool merchant, as Hall explained to George, was that Canning owed a duty of obligation to the backer, who requested that his own protégé be made Canning’s private secretary.58 This was an example of how precarious patronage was. The Duke of Cambridge, who was on a brief visit to England in the summer of 1816, expressed his disappointment at this turn of events, and hoped that once Canning came to know George’s character and abilities, he would soon do something for him.59 In fact, Canning was about to take George with him on a visit of pleasure to Paris that autumn. He also took him on tours of the continent in 1819 and 1820.60 As he was accompanying a minister of state, George attended the most brilliant court entertainments. Many of the courtiers he already knew, such as Vaudreuil, Malcor and the wealthy philanthropist baron de Montyon, since they had fled to England with the king’s brother Artois after the Revolution and had been brought to Gillwell by William Spencer. Among the members of the French nobility who extended hospitality to the Canning party was the duchesse d’Orléans, wife of Louis-Philippe, Genlis’s former pupil. The baron de Montyon told George that the duchess was charmed by her English visitors: ‘All three of you [George Chinnery, George Canning and Charles Ellis] had the greatest success at the Duchess of Orléans’s house. Your witticisms, your manners, and your conversation were very well received and charmed all the ladies’.61 Clearly George had imitated the manners and clever banter of the many French courtiers who had been guests at Gillwell and had remembered Margaret’s lessons on how to be at ease in society, how to choose the right tone of voice and deference,

George’s career  169 and how to exude a gay and natural conviviality. Gone was the shy boy of fifteen whom Margaret accused of being ‘serious and cold in his address to every body’.62 It was during this admonition that Margaret had extolled to George the charms of what the French called le naturel, of which he was now complete master. Canning and his friend Ellis were known for their quick repartee, and they, too, spoke fluent French. It was during this visit that George received a diamond-encrusted box from Louis XVIII in recognition of his services in 1814. George wrote proudly to Margaret that his letter of thanks was approved both by Canning for its content and by the courtier Malcor for its French.63 It was a tribute to Margaret’s thorough teaching that a Frenchman could find no error at all in George’s French and the most brilliant orator of his day could find little to improve in the substance of George’s composition. Now fully committed to his patron, George’s fate was henceforth inextricably linked to Canning’s. But it was not until August 1822, when Castlereagh committed suicide,64 that Liverpool was able to appoint Canning foreign affairs secretary and leading minister in the House of Commons. In February 1823 Canning moved George to the Foreign Office to be his deputy assistant private secretary,65 his chief private secretary being his nephew, Lord George Bentinck, who enjoyed, literally, a nepotistic sinecure. Soon after, George learned that he was to be sent to Spain as British Commissioner of Claims. The post entailed negotiating with the Spanish Government a settlement of the claims of the British merchants whose ships had been plundered by Spanish privateers in waters off the coast of Cuba. His salary would be generous, £1200 a year.66 He had already begun Spanish lessons. Margaret warned him about confusing too many languages, but George countered with her own oft-cited words about the famous polyglot and philologist Sir William Jones, that ‘a man was as many times a man in proportion to the number of languages which he had acquired’.67 Being used to circulating in the highest echelon of British and French society, George had a rude awakening in Spain. Assemblies, balls, concerts and other entertainments that were part of diplomats’ daily lives in London and Paris were rare in Madrid. George complained that King Ferdinand, unlike other European monarchs, contributed nothing to ‘what we should elsewhere call the Society of the Metropolis’.68 For George, used to the sparkling entertainments of the French court, and the nightly assemblies of all kinds on offer in London, the lack of sociability in Madrid made it a ‘wretched dreary, barren, frightful, ignorant and uninteresting Capital’.69 Moreover, Ferdinand was a tyrannical ruler whose subjects enjoyed none of those benefits that English citizens enjoyed. His despotic reign contrasted greatly to what Margaret described as our best and most valuable wealth, our constitution, our perfect freedom as a nation, our national character and manners, and all in short that ever essentially constituted the noble rights and privileges of an englishman!70

170  George’s career The only truly pleasant society that George found in Madrid was that of the British ambassador Sir William A’Court, who invited him to dinner each night, even though George was not attached to the British mission. George had a warm regard for the urbane A’Court – which was reciprocated – and enjoyed sociable after-dinner conversation with him. When A’Court left Madrid to take up his new appointment in Portugal, George Bosanquet, the son of a wealthy East India merchant, who had been George’s contemporary at Christ Church College, became the acting chef de mission. But although the same age as George, Bosanquet was an acquaintance rather than a friend, with whom George had nothing in common. Indeed, he was an example of a young man whose education did not fit him for his calling. The business of the British merchants’ claims moved so slowly that George had leisure to help Bosanquet with his diplomatic duties. This was an area in which the considerable knowledge he had acquired in his education served George well. ‘B. brings me a little work for his chancellerie, which I am always delighted to undertake’.71 Indeed, George was far better qualified than his young colleague to do so. George’s knowledge of the Spanish language, for example, enabled him to send Joseph Planta at the Foreign Office a translation of the judgement handed down to the members of the short-lived Spanish constitutional government.72 In addition, George was ‘of some real use’ to Bosanquet in preparing the budget.73 And when Canning formally recognised the independence of the Spanish colonies Mexico and Colombia (January 1825), he was able to make a seventeen-page translation of the Spanish foreign minister’s reply to the announcement. From the course of George’s career so far two things become clear. First, that for a young man to achieve the post of his choice, patronage, not merit, was of paramount importance. If George had gained his Treasury clerkship through sympathy, and his next short-term mission through the influence of a friend of his father, it was not until Canning took him under his wing that he achieved proper patronage. It was through Christ Church College that the last had been made possible. As George himself had written to Margaret in 1808, ‘Men come here to form connections as much as for reading’.74 Margaret was well aware of this, warning George in 1810 that neglecting to cultivate the noblemen at College would be ‘most impolitic’.75 The second thing that becomes clear from the above is that knowledge and ability were useful only as after-benefits. They were not what helped George to a post in the first instance, although they did help him obtain patronage. Margaret’s education plan, like Genlis’s, had been tripartite. First, educate towards virtue. Second, cultivate knowledge. Third, educate for sociability and manners. As all education authors from Locke to Genlis stressed, next to virtue, the most important consideration for a gentleman was to be well-bred. ‘Breeding is that which sets a gloss upon all his other good qualities’, wrote Locke.76 This was why Margaret was so particular about polishing off ‘the College rust’ at the end of each term. ‘A graceful way

George’s career  171 and fashion in everything, is that which gives the ornament and the liking’, Locke believed.77 Manners, aided by his fluency in French, certainly assured George’s success at the duchesse d’Orléans’s assembly in Paris in 1816, and manners ensured that he continued to receive invitations into London society thereafter. The impression that George made on those he met is typified in the evidence of Margaret’s friend William Ayrton, musical director of the Haymarket Opera. According to Ayrton, George was a most accomplished young man, speaking and writing French, Italian and Spanish well; the two former like a native of France and Italy. His manners were highly polished. In person he was about the middle size, well formed and remarkably handsome.78 In a cruel twist of fate George died in Madrid just as he was on the point of returning to London. The only light that is thrown on the sudden death is in a letter that Margaret received from Canning, who wrote that your poor son had every attendance and attention that could be afforded him, where he was; that his disease baffled the skill of the most eminent physicians at Madrid; and that his last days were soothed by the sympathy of all his countrymen, those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance. He has left among them, and among all with whom the business of his office had brought him into contact, the sincerest regret for his loss, and esteem for his character. I need not say, my dear Madam, that few participate more warmly in that regard, or cherish a larger portion of that esteem than I do.79 Canning’s were not simple eulogistic formulae. He had appreciated George’s character and talents. George had been more hard-working than most and his knowledge of the modern languages had been useful. George had told Margaret only four months before of ‘the importance which Mr Canning is said to attach to a knowledge of the Spanish language’, especially since he had just opened a ‘New Spanish World’.80 Canning was the first British foreign minister to recognise the importance of languages to diplomacy and had made a point of learning French. In contrast, Castlereagh had never learned French and had conducted all his European negotiations between 1815 and 1822 with interpreters. A death notice was placed in London’s Morning Post: George Rose [sic] Chinnery, Esq – We regret to announce the death of this gentleman, which lately took place in Madrid. Mr Chinnery was one of the officers of the Treasury, and his talents, diligence, and urbanity, were likely to ensure his progress to a distinguished situation in that establishment. Mr Canning, however, saw his merits and respected his talents, and induced Mr Chinnery to accompany him as secretary on

172 George’s career his embassy to the Court of Portugal. Mr Chinnery had the advantage of a good education, and possessed abilities of a very high order. His poem on The Dying Gladiator displayed not only poetical genius, but nice discrimination and strong sensibility.81 The wrong name was corrected the following day: ‘Died at Madrid, Oct 18th, George Robert Chinnery Esq.’.82 Other letters of condolence survive, including one from the Sothebys and one from the Duke of Cambridge, both of whom knew that the only possible comfort for Margaret was religion, as well as the fact that ‘full justice had been done by Mr Canning to your son’s merits’.83 All the fond hopes enunciated in Margaret’s education journal were now shattered. In 1803 she had written of her future life, seated contentedly by the fire, taking pleasure in re-reading her education journal, which would have given her more delight than all the marvellous events recounted by the historian or the fabulist. This book shall be carefully preserved as long as I live; should it prove, as I trust it will, a monument of your worth and merit, at my death I shall bequeath it to your children if either of you should be blest with any. Think with what eagerness they will contemplate this faithful picture of your youth! How their hearts will glow at the mention of each virtue, how their emulation will be excited by the recital of your application and industry!84 What might the talented George have become if death had spared him? Even if he had risen in tandem with Canning, who became prime minister in 1827, the future he wished for might not have been assured because Canning himself died in office the same year.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Adolphus Frederick to MC, 11 November 1811, Fisher 2000–12/18. GRC to MC, 15 October 1810, Ch.Ch. The letter is published in Vernon-Harcourt, ed., II, pp. 487–89. Ibid., p. 489. MC to GRC, 22 February 1808, Ch.Ch. MC to WBC, [September 1810], PHM 94/143/1–17/1. Quintilian, I, 223. See Scorgie, pp. 76–93. The firm of Benjamin and Abraham Goldsmid was one of Britain’s biggest government loan contractors. Abraham was known for his generosity towards friends (see Picciotto, pp. 252–54 and The Times, 29 September 1810). 10 WBC, private memorandum, 20 September 1810 (enclosed in 22 February 1811), PHM 94/143/1–7/1. 11 WBC to Spencer Perceval, 13 March 1812, TNA, TS 11/362.

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173

12 Death notice in the Morning Chronicle, 4 April 1812, and in the Gentleman’s Magazine (January–June 1812, fifth of a new series), May 1812, p. 489. 13 Transcribed in MC to WBC, 6 April 1812, PHM 94/143/1–17/2. 14 Diary of Joseph Farington, 18 July 1812, XII, 4160. 15 Sainty, ed., p. 118. 16 MC’s Diary, 11 March 1812, PHM 94/134/1−10. 17 Ibid., 14 March 1812. 18 Ibid. 19 For the previous six years British trade to Europe had been conducted through Gothenburg due to Napoleon’s blockade of England from the continent. 20 WBC to MC, [26 March] 1812, PHM 94/143/1–7/9. 21 TNA, T1/3535; MC to WBC, 15 January 1813, PHM 94/143/1–17/7. 22 The Times, 26 March 1812; Gentleman’s Magazine, May 1812, p. 469. 23 Genlis to MC, 13 May 1814, in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 133. 24 Ibid. 25 WBC to MC, 14 June 1813, PHM 94/143/1–7/22. 26 Genlis to MC, 13 May 1814, in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 134. 27 MC’s Diary, 14 March 1812, PHM 94/143/1–10. 28 WBC to MC, 16 May 1812, PHM 94/143/1–7/12. 29 WBC to MC, [March 1812], PHM 94/143/1–7/8. 30 F.J. Jackson to George Jackson, 13 April 1812, in Jackson, ed., I, 350. 31 Diary of Joseph Farington, 18 July 1812, XII, 4160; Sainty, ed., p. 48. 32 MC to GRC, 26 January 1809, Ch.Ch. 33 WBC’s Drummonds’ Account, DR/427/225, fols 98, 101, 147, 157. 34 MC to WBC, 5 August 1812, PHM 94/143/1–17/5. 35 Richard Wellesley to GRC, 5 June 1812, Fisher 2000–22/8. 36 Marquess of Titchfield to GRC, 2 November 1821, Fisher 2000–22/73. 37 The prince was no stranger to William Chinnery’s case, having granted him the royal pardon that was needed to free him from Newgate, where he had been held on a charge of felony. The Gentleman’s Magazine of 17 March 1812 (p. 286) reported that while the judges of William’s case had not considered that his crime amounted to felony, the jury had, and ‘the only way to get rid of the conviction was to represent the matter to the Prince Regent, and solicit for him the Royal pardon, which was accordingly granted’. 38 He enclosed the book in a letter to George (Adolphus Frederick to GRC, c.April 1812, Fisher, 2000–25/1). 39 Adolphus Frederick to MC, c.August 1816, Fisher 2000–12/21. 40 The senior secretary of the Treasury George Rose complained of the difficulty of getting his son the diplomatic posting of his choice (Vernon-Harcourt, ed., II, 360–62). 41 See Duchess of Marlborough to WRS, 15 April 1811, Fisher 2000–41/9. 42 See WRS to MC, 15 June 1808, Fisher 2000–13/4. 43 Rolo, p. 97. 44 WRS to CC, 3 March 1812, Fisher 2000–35/19. 45 WBC to MC, 14 June 1813, PHM 94/143/1–7/22. 46 Temperley, p. 265. 47 Cited in Webster, p. 48. The Foreign Office was then divided into two sections, one responsible for Northern Europe, the other, Southern Europe. 48 Reported in Adolphus Frederick to GRC, c.April 1812, Fisher 2000–25/1. 49 Adolphus Frederick to MC, 24 July 1814, Fisher 2000–12/19.

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50 A humorous letter from Harriet Countess Granville to her sister Lady Morpeth, ridicules Castlereagh’s attempts to order dinner in French when he was hosting a party at the embassy (Gower, ed., I, 64). Harriet and her sister both spoke French fluently, and witty remarks in French are liberally sprinkled throughout their correspondence. 51 Adams, ed., III, 205. 52 Louis XVI’s younger brother was proclaimed King of France with the style of Louis XVIII. He had spent the latter half of his exile in England. 53 John Herries to GRC, 22 April 1814, Fisher 2000–22/10. 54 Genlis to MC, 13 May 1814, in Yim, ed., The Unpublished Correspondence of Mme de Genlis and Margaret Chinnery, p. 134. 55 Comte de Vaudreuil to GRC, 5 April [recte May] 1814, Fisher 2000–22/11. 56 Charles Hall to GRC (copy), 3 May 1813, Fisher 2000–27/1. 57 Charles Hall to GRC, 3 October 1814, Fisher 2000–27/2. 58 Charles Hall to GRC, 29 May 1816, Fisher 2000–27/3. Canning’s new private secretary was John Backhouse. 59 Adolphus Frederick to MC, c.August 1816, Fisher 2000–12/21, and Adolphus Frederick to MC, 7 August 1816, RCM, MS 4118. 60 See the Travel Journals of GRC, 1819–20, 3 vols, BL, Add. MSS 64093, 64094, 64095. 61 Baron de Montyon to GRC, 22 November 1816, Fisher 2000–22/26. 62 MC’s Journal, Book 2, p. 114. 63 GRC to MC, 14 November 1816, Fisher 2000–7/5. 64 It was George who informed Canning of it (GRC to John Backhouse (copy), 10 August 1822, Fisher 2000–29/11). 65 GRC to WBC, 8 February 1823, Fisher 2000–20/9. 66 ‘Proposed Estabt of the Commission under the Convention with Spain, for the Adjustment of British Claims upon the Span. Gov t’, 1823, Fisher 2000–32/2. Appointment gazetted 14 February 1824. 67 GRC to MC, 26 July 1823, PHM 94/143/1–12/18. 68 GRC to Joseph Planta (copy), 5 July 1824, Fisher 2000–30/8. 69 GRC to MC, 21 April 1825, PHM 94/143/1–12/58. 70 MC to GRC, 25 October 1809, Ch.Ch. 71 GRC to MC, 6 January 1824 [recte 1825], PHM 94/143/1–12/21. 72 GRC to Joseph Planta (copy), 3 April 1825, Fisher 2000–30/12. After the French had restored Ferdinand to the throne he immediately embarked on a reign of terror, executing scores of rebels. 73 GRC to MC, 22 January 1825, PHM 94/143/1–12/51. 74 GRC to MC, 25 October 1808, Ch.Ch. 75 MC to GRC, 21 October 1810, Ch.Ch. 76 Locke, Concerning Education, p. 93. 77 Ibid., p. 94. 78 Endorsement, appended after George’s death, to a letter Ayrton had received from George, 18 March [1821], BL, Ayrton Papers, Add. MS 52342. 79 George Canning to MC, 31 October 1825, RCM, MS 4118. 80 GRC to MC, 9 June 1825, PHM 94/143/1–12/65. 81 Morning Post, 29 November 1825. 82 Morning Post, 30 November 1825. 83 Adolphus Frederick to MC, 17 March 1826, Fisher 2000–12/22. 84 MC’s Journal, Book 2, pp. 2–3.

Conclusion

The foregoing has shown that with the best will in the world and with optimal resources and opportunities a good education did not always guarantee the outcome desired by a parent. But in the Chinnerys’ case this had more to do with the vagaries of fate than with the nature of the education. The optimistic words that Margaret wrote on the twins’ twelfth birthday in 1803 depicted George ‘obtaining the esteem and applause of his country for his useful and valuable services’ and Caroline ‘pious, gentle, unoffending, and pleasing in manner, well informed, having a taste for useful and elegant pursuits, and dispensing good of every kind to all around her’.1 Although this fondly imagined future was denied her, Caroline and George were put in possession of all the advantages Margaret lists, rewarding them, for the duration of their short lives, with happiness and earning them the esteem of all who knew them. To what extent did Genlis’s education method contribute to this success? Certainly to the most important part of it, that of laying the foundation stone in infancy and childhood for what was to follow. Although Genlis did not espouse any philosophy of education as did Locke and Rousseau, she did demonstrate some remarkably modern psychological insights into the workings of the juvenile mind through her lively dialogues and her ability to adapt her writing to the level of the child. This is what distinguished Adèle et Théodore from Émile, making Genlis’s plan easier to implement. Margaret followed Genlis’s plan closely, but adapted it to her own family’s needs where necessary. It is undeniable that Genlis’s plan catered for families of wealth. Genlis says on the title page of Adèle et Théodore that her work contains three distinct education plans, one for princes, one for young ladies and one for men. The last two categories, it must be assumed, were of the privileged classes. Therefore, for those families of means, and in those where the educator was a person of intelligence and perseverance, Genlis’s plan was indeed successful, especially, as in Margaret’s case, for one who had the advantage of ‘excellent materials’2 to work with. (As it transpired, these were precisely the conditions for success that were singled out by Genlis’s early critics.) It is true, however, that in order to compensate for Genlis’s deficiency in any philosophy of education, Margaret read a great

DOI: 10.4324/9781003252146-11

176 Conclusion many authors besides Genlis, relying particularly on Elizabeth Hamilton and her science of the mind. Yet if there is any doubt that Genlis’s plan was not the mainstay of Margaret’s education method, it is laid to rest by Margaret’s mantra concerning the wise use of time that pulsates throughout her education journal: ‘You well know upon what authority I assert…’3 The strict economy of time was the sheer driving force behind Genlis’s plan, and the need for one lesson to succeed the next with not just minimum delay, but with no delay at all, was the very hallmark of Genlis’s method. This relentless driving of her pupils was what Louis-Philippe was referring to when he told Victor Hugo that he was raised ‘with ferocity’ by Genlis.4 The same driving force is noticeable in Margaret’s writings. For example, thirteen-year-old George was reprimanded for taking eighteen minutes to change into his riding habit when two would have sufficed. Both children were chastised for taking thirty minutes at lunch instead of fifteen.5 Moreover, there were two important features of Genlis’s plan, ones that were either not mentioned or strongly discouraged in the writings of Catharine Macaulay, Hannah More, Maria Edgeworth and even in Rousseau — all authors whose books Margaret read — which were, first, the teaching of the polite accomplishments, and, second, the teaching of modern languages. Both had been features of girls’ education earlier in the century when it was not taken seriously, and perhaps because of this, were disregarded by later education writers, who were trying to redress earlier shortcomings. Regarding the first, Macaulay, who admitted she had no knowledge of music, wrote that she ‘would dispense with some of those dazzling accomplishments’ and would consider them as no more ‘than as sources of elegant and innocent amusements’,6 which was exactly the light that Rousseau, who did have a knowledge of music, saw them in. Rousseau’s attitude towards the serious teaching of music to girls was patronisingly condescending, as well as unrealistic. His heroine Sophie, having ‘des talens naturels’, was made to sing sweetly and to dance gaily, purely for her enjoyment, with no reference at all to written music. She had instruction from her father in singing, her mother in dancing and the local organist in accompaniment on the harpsichord, which talent, incredibly, she went on to cultivate alone, ‘without knowing a single note of music’.7 Hannah More devoted a whole chapter of her Strictures to the ‘Dangers arising from an excessive cultivation of the arts’.8 Because More was concerned mainly with the education of the ‘middling classes’, who had no leisure for elegant accomplishments, she deemed pursuits such as drawing and playing the piano superfluous and trivial, nothing more than a means of avoiding ennui.9 Even more than this, they were for her associated with moral impurity, an excessive cultivation of the arts having contributed to the decline of states, she warned.10 And although Margaret agreed in principle with Maria Edgeworth’s thoughts on the learning of elegant accomplishments, she did not view them, as Edgeworth did, as ‘tickets of admission to fashionable

Conclusion  177 company’,11 writing rather that the aim of a cultivated mind and female talents and accomplishments was to ‘embellish and enliven domestic conversation’.12 Her last statement might seem rather disingenuous, given the spectacular success that Caroline did achieve in society, and Margaret was certainly not averse to basking in the glory of it. For her, society’s approbation was a ringing endorsement of her education method. Regarding the modern languages, these had always been considered to be girls’ subjects, given that boys were traditionally schooled in the ancient languages.13 More took the view, which was narrowly circumscribed by class, that foreign languages were pursuits which belonged exclusively to affluence, useful only if one was to meet foreigners or enjoy foreign literature. A discussion of the study of modern languages did not even crop up in Edgeworth’s writings. Macaulay did not acknowledge any benefits from learning a modern language for boys, opining that on their grand tours the little improvement in their French or Italian pronunciation was dearly bought by the addition of ‘foreign folies and vices’.14 For his part, Rousseau asserted that he considered the study of languages to be among ‘the useless subjects’ (‘des inutilités’) in education, and that excepting ‘prodigies’, he had yet to meet a child under the age of twelve or fifteen who had truly learned two languages’(!)15 Even in John Aikin’s Letters from a Father to a Son, which Margaret had both the twins read, the emphasis was squarely on the ancient languages for boys, with only a token nod to the modern languages.16 Contrary to all the above views, both Genlis and Margaret realised that modern languages were equally necessary to boys for the conduct of the nation’s business, and to both girls and boys to enable them to enjoy the beauties of literature, and to engage fully in polite society where French was often the lingua franca, especially if foreign diplomats or foreign musicians were present. While all of the above education authors were read by Margaret, it is clear that she would have strongly disagreed with most of the above propositions, especially with Rousseau’s on not teaching a foreign language before the age of twelve or with his haphazard method of teaching music to a young girl. Moreover, she would have been highly sceptical of his claim that Sophie somehow ‘picked up’ the science of accompaniment without knowing a note of music. Nor would she have agreed with Macaulay’s or More’s views on music and the fine arts.17 That is why she was loyal to Genlis, even if there were a few instances, such as the teaching of accompaniment to a child of ten, when their views diverged widely.18 There was a fundamental difference of opinion between the above authors and Genlis. The elegant accomplishments were clearly for Macaulay, More and Edgeworth non-essential pursuits, whereas for Genlis and Margaret, who both had a deep and genuine love of the arts, they were pursuits which were both intellectual and pleasurable. Indeed, they were essential to a happy life. As Margaret wrote time and again, she could not live without the fine arts.

178 Conclusion If Genlis provided the practical education plan that Margaret followed, it was largely Elizabeth Hamilton who guided her philosophy of education. Hamilton followed the Scottish philosopher Dugald Stewart’s theory of associationism, which concentrated on ‘the powers of attention, abstraction, memory, imagination and judgement’,19 examples of which are liberally sprinkled through Margaret’s education journal. Hamilton and Margaret also followed Archibald Alison’s associationism with regard to aesthetics. Alison explained that our enjoyment of the beauties of nature or of the arts is bound up with certain trains of ideas in the mind, and Hamilton carried the idea into education by arguing that a taste for the fine arts can only be gained by first improving all the faculties of the mind ‘according to the order assigned by nature’. 20 (Here again we see the influence of Quintilian and Pope who both discouraged any deviation from nature.) Taste in music, Hamilton wrote, depended upon association no less than with regard to the other objects of our perceptions. Hamilton was in favour of learning a musical instrument, and of learning to draw, provided the pupil’s taste was first fostered by ‘the careful improvement of all the intellectual faculties’. 21 She warned against the ‘early and partial’ cultivation of the emotions needed to develop taste, for it led to absurdities that depraved young people’s taste. 22 Margaret did cultivate the necessary emotions in her pupils, and both Caroline and George were truly able to appreciate the beauties of the arts. Caroline’s close intercourse with and instruction from two celebrated Italian composers, Viotti and Bianchi, also enabled her to exercise taste in composing small pieces of music, and in setting some of her verses to music. Elizabeth Hamilton may not have been thinking of musical composition when she wrote that by fixing the basis of taste ‘and then by rendering your pupils capable of the practical part of these accomplishments, you enlarge the sphere of their innocent enjoyments, and afford them the opportunity of communicating pleasure to others’.23 However, for Caroline, composing was as gratifying as performing, and the harp adagio that she composed for the Countess Dunmore in 1809 gave both women much delight, especially when the countess played it, accompanied by Caroline on the piano. 24 Margaret’s overarching goal of education was happiness in life, and her ‘optimistic rationalism’25 aligned her with Barbauld, Macaulay and Hamilton, marking her, like them, as a forward-thinking, truly enlightened woman. Like the majority of eighteenth-century thinkers, she believed that the most important consideration was to educate towards (Christian) virtue, from which would flow happiness. There is no clearer proof that this was successfully imparted to George than in a letter he wrote to his mother in the summer of 1820: As I sit in my armchair my heart overflows with gratitude for the sound moral education with which you blessed my early years and from which alone flows the more substantial part of worldly happiness. People

Conclusion  179 constantly make use of terms without understanding them, and so unquestionably had I till now made an abuse of the word philosophy notwithstanding all the treatises upon the subject which I studied at Oxford. Every schoolboy knows that the definition of the word is the love of wisdom, and the number of persons fancy that they have a clear notion of what is meant by wisdom, but there are very few who know what it is to love it. I am now convinced that to love wisdom is to be constantly referring the occurrences of life to certain fixed principles and to try them by those principles only instead of by popular opinion. These principles belonging of course to a system of strict morality are intimately connected with the principles of Christianity, and the great result to which I come is that true philosophy is the application of religious principles to the business of life. What is commonly called worldly wisdom which rejects such a connection is in fact no wisdom at all.26 One cannot help but be struck by the similarity of the above with Descartes’s definition of a ‘strong soul’: a strong soul will form ‘firm and definite judgements concerning the difference between good and evil, according to which it has resolved to conduct the actions of its life’. 27 George’s belief that true wisdom, and hence true happiness, was to be found only in the teachings of Christianity was born of Margaret’s early teachings, and reflect her belief in a rational god, who wished for man’s happiness in this world, before proceeding to the next. Naturally enough, Margaret was more driven in her aspirations for her own children than for the other children she educated. These children, all female, have not been afforded the same detailed examination as her own children in the preceding account because she wrote less about them. Ironically, fate was kinder to them than to her own children. Matilda and little Margaret had happy marriages, children and long lives. Maria married Margaret’s close friend the Bavarian diplomat Baron Christian Hubert von Pfeffel, a widower, who was the nephew of the writer and educationist Gottlieb Konrad Pfeffel and was an honorary member of the Bavarian Academy of the Sciences. Given the tragedies that befell Margaret, it was only fitting that these three young ladies were a support for her in her times of need, and that they were all suitably grateful for what they had been given. In this book I have been able to look at only a tiny fraction of what was on the Christie sale catalogue, but what stands out is the sheer breadth of Margaret’s reading, from education, literature and the sciences, through landscape gardening, travel, religion, history and government to aesthetics. While the works of literature were mainly from the canon, and those of religion were also popular in their day, those pertaining to aesthetics were more specialised, reflecting Margaret’s interest in the arts, for example, Pierre Estève’s L’Esprit des Beaux Arts (1753), Sir William Jones’s essay ‘On the Arts, commonly called Imitative’ (1777), Richard Payne Knight’s An Analytical Enquiry into the Principles of Taste (1805) and Thomas

180 Conclusion Bruce’s Memorandum on the Subject of the Earl of Elgin’s Pursuits in Greece (1810).28 Some of the French titles were perhaps less used by the English as works of education, for example, the Abbé Gaultier’s Jeu de grammaire and his Leçons de géographie, Carmontelle’s Proverbes and the duc de Nivernais’s Œuvres, of which Margaret owned two of the eight volumes, probably the first two, his Fables. Nivernais was a diplomat who influenced the manners and comportment of London high society through the mouthpiece of Lord Chesterfield. The latter told his son that he did not know ‘a better model for you to form yourself on’.29 However he was less known in Britain as the author of fables. Two popular works on education, which are little known today, are Elizabeth Smith’s Fragments and John Rice’s Introduction to the Art of Reading. The last shows that the popular eighteenth-century domestic pastime of reading aloud, was, like conversation and letter-writing, considered to be an art that required study and practice. As a woman, to what degree was Margaret typical of her age? In her values she was looking, Janus-faced, in two directions. On the one side, she was steeped in the conservative beliefs of her time concerning the position of a woman vis-à-vis her husband, in which regard she followed Jane West’s advice, which was ‘to be the helpmate of man, to partake of his labours, to alleviate his distresses, to regulate his domestic concerns, to rear and instruct the subsequent generation’.30 In her affirmation of women’s gentleness and ‘femininity’, her sedulous avoidance of the label ‘bluestocking’ and her agreement with Hume that gallantry was an enlightened way of maintaining harmonious relations in society, she also adhered to patriarchal norms. On the other, she was deeply committed to a Christianity based on reason, not superstition, to continuing education throughout life, to following her own convictions and not bowing to public opinion, to the intellectual equality of women and to her belief in the civilising effect of the arts. Her trenchant criticism of the Oxford method of education shows that she recognised the need for change in the education of boys and young men. In her condemnation of the undue emphasis placed on the classics at Oxford she pre-empted the University reforms that were to take place later in the century. She also preempted the reforms that were later to take place in the training of musicians. When in 1814 it was proposed to establish an academy of music to train young musicians within a collegiate body, rather than attached to a single master as had been past practice, Margaret’s advice was sought and she critiqued a draft plan drawn up by the impresario William Ayrton.31 The stamp of her education philosophy is everywhere visible on this document: her questioning mind, her clear reasoning, her insistence on the definition of terms and her belief in the mind-broadening benefits of foreign influences, e.g. ‘Does not the english taste in its french state require to be enlightened and improved by the taste and genius of other countries?’32 She also called for premiums and prizes to be presented to the students publicly, in order to foster emulation, one of her key education principles.

Conclusion  181 Because of her love of learning, which did not preclude an active social life, Margaret suffered from the double bind that confronted many women of the eighteenth century, among them Madame du Châtelet, Voltaire’s mistress, whom he simultaneously lauded for seeking intellectual glory and for ‘her lady-like ability to hide her erudition from everyone’.33 Voltaire could have been speaking of Margaret or of Caroline when he wrote: ‘never was a woman more scholarly than she, and never did anyone deserve less that one should say of her: “she’s a femme savante” […] She devoted herself to high society as she did to study’.34 Almost sixty years after Voltaire wrote those words Caroline was still at risk of being labelled with the pejorative epithet of bluestocking, which, according to one sympathetic male onlooker, would have harmed her chances of finding a husband.35 Yet there seemed to be a deep divide in men’s opinion of women’s learning by the early nineteenth century. The typical eighteenth-century male view that women had a soft brain in a soft body was losing traction in favour of the belief that a strong brain was laudable, provided that the woman retained her soft feminine manner. It was no doubt because Margaret maintained her ‘femininity’ while espousing her educational causes that all the men in her life gave her their full support. Margaret certainly believed that a strong intellect and femininity could inhabit the same body and so did George, judging by the tacit approval he gave to the writings of Jane West and Jane Porter, compared to the grudging praise he accorded Lucy Aikin’s Memoirs of the Court of Queen Elizabeth (1818). The merits of Aikin’s work, he owned, far exceeded his expectations. It is the only work in our own language written by a woman which if it had been anonymous and the words Lucy Aikin had not stood in the title page I should have attributed to male authorship. I say in our own language because Mad. de Staël’s writings bear an intellectual stamp throughout that is absolutely masculine, whereas Mrs West and Miss Porter with all their beauty and all their force have in every second or third page certain touches peculiarly feminine that reveal the author’s sex.36 Other contemporaries of Staël made similar observations about the masculine vigour of her mind. The English translator of her work A Treatise on the Influence of the Passions compared it favourably to that of other female authors: ‘She affects no gaudiness of diction, no flimsy decoration, no false and vitious refinement of stile, the faults into which the writings of the fair sex in the present age are apt to run’.37 However, Staël’s lack of typically ‘feminine’ characteristics caused her to be derided as often as she was praised. Unlike Staël, Margaret hid her ‘male ambition’38 behind a ‘feminine’ demeanour. This would seem to confirm the truth of Locke’s

182 Conclusion wisdom: ‘in most cases, the manner of doing is of more consequence, than the thing done’.39 Voltaire’s approving portrayal of Madame du Châtelet shows that a woman’s quest for knowledge was acceptable, provided that she was simultaneously engaged in polite society. In this requirement Margaret met society’s expectations. Both Margaret and Caroline enjoyed the amusements of society, and both enjoyed the polite attentions of gentlemen that went with it. (In a letter to George Margaret describes the elaborate bowing technique of the ancien régime courtier the comte de Vaudreuil, in whom there was such an air of profound submission and humility as was ‘purely exquisite’, Margaret thought.40) It was such gallantry towards women that Mary Wollstonecraft thought ‘bubbled’ women’s minds.41 But Margaret’s assiduous cultivation of virtue and her insistence on a simple decorous comportment in society precluded any risk of that for Caroline. Barbara Taylor condemns Hume’s support for gallantry in polite society as being typical of ‘Enlightenment gender philosophy’,42 and so it may have been, yet Margaret was in full agreement with it, and with the reason Hume gives for the invention of good manners: ‘to render conversation, and the intercourse of minds, more easy and agreeable’.43 After all, as Ritchie Robertson writes, the Enlightenment was an age of ‘social solidarity that bound people together into a community’ as much as it was an ‘age of reason’.44 Politeness was about giving pleasure to others, through consideration and good manners. For example, Margaret was grateful to Spencer for keeping a party of her relatives entertained, even though she thought it was but little suited to his refined and elegant mind. Spencer had a gift for pleasing society, Margaret told George. It is a great and admirable art for a man to possess, that of being able to adapt himself to others with such a variety of tones and shades in his thoughts and manners, as to be deemed delightful by men of the most opposite tastes and feelings.45 Margaret was happy to observe social conventions while pursuing her goal of intellectual equality for women. She had no aspirations to access any male domain outside the domestic sphere. Moreover, there were rewards for obeying the rules of society. In Margaret’s case it was that she was able to advocate for her education principles on a wider platform, for example when she was invited by the Princess of Wales and other members of the royal family to explain her method. In 1813, too, Margaret used her close friendship with the Duke of Cambridge to advocate for the establishment of an academy of music that would employ more progressive methods for the training of young musicians than those that presently prevailed: ‘and then I pointed out to him that as his Royal father had founded the Academy of Painting, it seemed a natural, and almost necessary consequence that the Prince Regent should found the Academy of Music’.46

Conclusion  183 As we have seen, Buffon’s form of social equality for women, that of accepting them into polite society, was one that Mary Wollstonecraft rejected and that today’s scholars regard with scepticism.47 Yet it was precisely this form of social acceptance of women that enabled Margaret, with the support of Viotti, to continue her musical soirées after her husband had fled the country. It also enabled her to lead an independent life after the death of Viotti (1824), George (1825) and William (1827). It was of real service (separately) to Genlis and Vigée Le Brun, who both survived, alone, eight years of peripatetic exile after the French Revolution by being granted unconditional entry into all the courts and great houses of Europe. Indeed, it was of service to any woman of class living without a husband. As we have seen by the acceptance of the British upper classes into French society during the fragile Peace of Amiens, and their willingness to attend assemblies hosted by Napoleon and by his ministers, manners were the currency of Europe. They transcended national divides and overrode political allegiances. In the sense that they were the criterion for admittance to these assemblies it might be said that there was a sort of a Republic of Manners that gave Europe cohesion, just as the Republic of Letters did.48 If circumstances had permitted, Margaret might have joined the celebrated pantheon of early nineteenth-century women writers on education. Judging by her words to George at Oxford, ‘you must labour to give lustre and efficacy to my precepts’,49 Margaret’s book on education would have gone further than those that she had read to date, which finished at the age of sixteen. Hers would have extended, for boys, through university and into adulthood, and for girls, up to the time of marriage and beyond. Perhaps her education philosophy is best summed up by George himself, when he wrote of her letters to him: If one wishes to know her plans, ideas or feelings one has only to leaf through her letters. There one will see her whole soul revealed: an insurmountable love mixed with a gentle rigour which gives firmness to the mind in need; flashes of male ambition tempered by a pure piety, and indeed all that is necessary to lead the person who enjoys her help down the straight path of virtue and reputation.50 Inasmuch as the Enlightenment was an age of feeling, sympathy, sensibility and religion, as well as reason, the above would seem to confirm that Margaret was a product of her age. If Mary Wollstonecraft’s end goal was ‘guiding, enlightening, and leading the human race onward to felicity’, 51 then Margaret, reading the same authors as Wollstonecraft (Bacon, Locke, Hume, Adam Smith, Joseph Priestly, Richard Price, Rousseau, Voltaire), reached the same conclusion by a different route. Margaret’s conservatism might have been the obverse face of Wollstonecraft’s radicalism, but in the end they shared the same goal. The words of one modern scholar perfectly capture Margaret’s place in her time:

184

Conclusion Through patronage, pedagogy, correspondence and conversation women were among the greatest practitioners of enlightenment — spreading light and creating unprecedented possibilities for rational and critical discourse among men and women distinguished by their intellectual talents rather than birth.52

With uncanny prescience George declared that his mother’s letters ‘will form the archives of Gillwell’.53 When Margaret died on the afternoon of 5 November 1840 at 78 Champs Elysées, she was attended by an old family friend and relative, Miss Mary Whitaker Greene, who inherited all the Chinnery papers, 54 which today have indeed become the archives of Gillwell.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

MC’s Journal, Book 2, p. 5. Pascoe Grenfell to MC, 22 June 1810, Ch.Ch. MC’s Journal, Book 2, p. 4. Hugo, I, 213. MC’s Journal, Book 2, p. 74 and p. 68 respectively. Macaulay, p. 62. Rousseau, IV, 35, 72. More, I, chapter 2. Ibid., p. 110. She was referring to Rome, and more recently, to France (More, I, 82–83). Edgeworth and Edgeworth, II, 522. MC’s Journal, Book 2, p. 98. In the few boarding schools that did teach boys French the method was so inadequate that if a boy were placed into a company of French people, he was, as it was so quaintly put by one writer, ‘as much in a Maze […] as a Dog in a Dancing-School’ (Baker, p. vi). Macaulay, p. 140. Rousseau, I, 128. Aikin, II, 317. Macaulay (p. 329) opined that some of the fine arts ‘serve more to inflame appetite, than to inspire noble sentiments’. See Yim, ‘A British Child’s Music Education’, pp. 29–30, where their views are set out side by side. Cited in Rendall, ‘“Elementary Principles of Education”’, p. 619. Hamilton, Elementary Principles, II, 306. Ibid., pp. 324, 328. Ibid., p. 15. Ibid., p. 329. MC to GRC, 11 June 1809, Ch.Ch. Caroline’s manuscript music of the harp adagio with piano accompaniment is in the private collection of James Paul. Hutton, p. 538. GRC to MC, 4 July 1820, Fisher 2000–7/7. Cited and translated by R. Robertson, The Enlightenment, p. 33. Not in the Christie sale catalogue, but mentioned in GRC to MC, 26 July 1823, PHM 94/143/1–12/18. Letters written by […] the Earl of Chesterfield to his Son, I, 430.

Conclusion 185 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

West, I, 35. Draft plan for a Royal Academy of Music, c.1814, Fisher 2000–16. Ibid. Cited in Vila, p. 53. Ibid. William Pepys to WRS, 21 December 1810, Fisher 2000–41/7. GRC to MC, 13 March 1821, Fisher 2000–7/9. Lucy Aikin was the niece of Anna Laetitia Barbauld, whose books Margaret had used to amuse and instruct her young children. Staël, A Treatise, p. xvi. See GRC to GBV, 10 March 1809, Ch.Ch. (in French). Locke, Concerning Education, p. 94. MC to GRC, 4 February 1809, Ch.Ch. Cited in Taylor, ‘Feminists versus Gallants’, p. 127. Taylor, ‘Enlightenment and the Uses of Woman’, p. 80. Hume, I, 137. R. Robertson, The Enlightenment, p. xviii. MC to GRC, 24 January 1809, Ch.Ch. MC to WBC, 14 August 1813, PHM 94/143/1–17/12. Britain’s first Academy of Music did not eventuate until 1822. Taylor, ‘Enlightenment and the Uses of Woman’, p. 84; R. Robertson, The Enlightenment, p. 297. The importance of the Republic of Letters for Europe’s intellectual culture is recognised by R. Robertson (The Enlightenment, p. 374). MC to GRC, 17 February 1809, Ch.Ch. GRC to GBV, 10 March 1809, Ch.Ch. Cited in Taylor, ‘Feminists versus Gallants’, p. 126. Hesse, p. 260. GRC to GBV, 10 March 1809, Ch.Ch. Archives départementales (Paris), Register of deaths in 1st arrondissement, for the year 1840; Succession documents, Margaret Chinnery, 4 May 1841, DQ7 3465.

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Index

Note: N  ames of Chinnery family members are abbreviated to initials, Genlis is abbreviated to G and William Robert Spencer to WRS. Italic page numbers refer to figures and page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. The Accomplish’d Housewife see Newbery, John Addison, Joseph 4, 112, 145, 157n4; Spectator 20, 105–06, 108, 121, 145 Adèle et Théodore 1–4; Adèle’s reading after marriage 19–21, 28; course of reading at back 19–20, 73, 80; education aims tripartite 33; influence on MC 3–4, 18–19, 53, 84; ‘modest simplicity’ motif 123–25, 140; not recommended for young ladies in Britain 3, 19–20; poem in Mercure de France 20; reviews/criticism 2, 6, 7, 20, 66n61, 79, 88, 93, 151; see also Genlis, Stéphanie-Félicité de Adolphus Frederick see Cambridge, 1st Duke of Æsop’s Fables 58 Aikin, John 30, 44, 177; Evenings at Home 44; Letters from a Father to his Son 80, 177 Aikin, Lucy 181; Memoirs of the Court of Queen Elizabeth 181 Alembert, Jean-Baptiste le Rond d’ 30 Alfieri, Vittorio 128, 147 Alison, Archibald 137–39, 178; Nature and Principles of Taste 137 Allan, David 10, 113 Amico see Viotti, Giovanni Battista L’Anacréon François 145 the arts 123, 129–30, 135–36, 162, 176–77, 179–80; G’s education plan embraced 23; MC lover of 6 Ayrton, William 171, 180

Bacon, Francis 29–30, 112–13, 132, 139, 147, 183; Advancement of Learning 113 Baecker, Casimir (G’s adopted son) 50, 56–57, 72, 127 Baillie, Joanna, Series of Plays [on the] Passions 83 Barbauld, Anna Laetitia 2, 7, 178; dissenting beliefs (Socinian) 7, 30; Evenings at Home 44, 66n49, 80; Hymns in Prose for Children 42; Lessons for Children from Three to Four Years Old 42 Bataillard, Maître (French master) 68, 75 Beckford, Susan 139 Berry, Miss Mary 136 Bianchi, Francesco (Maestro) 52–55, 57, 122–23, 130, 145, 178 Blackstone, Sir William 112, 121; Commentaries on the Laws of England 121 Blair, Hugh, Sermons 55, 165 Blair, John, Chronology 95 bluestocking/femme savante 24, 136, 145, 180–81 Boileau-Despréaux, Nicolas 109, 112; Lutrin 109, 112 book prices 9, 14n50, 131–32, 143n67 Bosanquet, George 170 Bouhours, Dominique 21, 29; Manière de bien penser 21 Bowdler, Henrietta Maria 7, 123, 131– 33; see also Smith, Miss Elizabeth

202 Index Bowdler, Mrs 131, 145 Bowles, William Lisle 94 Brady, comtesse Pauline de 2 Brifaut, Charles 73 Bryan, Margaret 17 Buffon, comte de 6, 183 Burrows, Simon 2 Cambridge, 1st Duke of 97, 166; and MC 97–98, 150, 160, 165, 172, 182; support for GRC 106, 165–66, 168; verses by CC to 126 Campe, Joachim 4–5, 32, 60, 73; Kleine Selenlehre für Kinder 73; New Robinson Crusoe (Nouveau Robinson) 32, 60 Canning, George 165–66, 168–70, 171–72 Carmontelle, Louis de, Proverbes 62, 180 Carr, Sir John 55–56, 69–70, 98, 151; Poems 7, 127, 128; The Stranger in France 69–70 Castlereagh, Lord 166–68, 169, 171, 174n50 Celli, A. (drawing master) 52 Cesarotti, Melchiorre 130 Charron, Pierre 19, 21, 23, 29, 70; De la Sagesse 21 Châtelet, Madame du 181–82 Chatham, Lord, Letters 108 Cherubini, Luigi 75, 78n38, 167 Chesterfield, Lord 108, 119n22, 153, 180; Letters to his Son 108 Chinnery, Caroline: birth/birthday 32, 61–62; composed harp adagio 141n11, 178; death 162–63; educator 133–35; Lord Glenbervie on 137; intention to publish poetry 115, 127; Mrs Francis Jackson on 137; and prince regent 160, 162; taste 138–39; whooping cough 135; see also society Chinnery, Caroline (education): books read at seventeen 121; books read at twelve/thirteen 80; classics/Latin 81, 121, 124–25, 135; early 33–34, 42; fluent in Italian by age ten 76; geometry 94–95; harp lessons 56; music composition 55, 57, 95, 122, 126; mythology lessons 40–41; physical exercise after G’s regime 44, 53–54; piano lessons 43, 45, 50–53, 88; play-acting 57, 81–84; playwriting 82–83; religious instruction 42, 55; responsible for own education

124; singing lessons 53, 57, 111–12, 122; verse-writing 95–96, 124–27, 130; see also Spencer, Hon. William Robert Chinnery, George Robert 32, 61–62, 164–72, 183 Chinnery, George Robert (education at Gillwell): books read at twelve/ thirteen 80–81; classics (see Mullens, Rev. John; Trumpf, Herr C.L.); declamation/recitation 57–58; early 16, 33–34, 42, 105; fluent in Italian by age ten 76; mythology lessons 40–41; physical exercise after G’s regime 44, 53–54; play-acting 57, 81–84; play-writing 82–83; religious instruction 42, 55 Chinnery, George Robert (education at Oxford): conversations with Cyril Jackson 106, 156–57; degree examination 152, 155–57, 160–61; ‘distinguished son’ of 165; elegiac verses by MC to 149; ‘glory’/ reputation 114, 118; letters of admonition from MC 114; modern language books sent by MC 108; Newdigate Verse Prize 117–18, 134, 148–50; preparation for viva voce examinations 112–13; Studentship 116–17; themes (essays) 106, 109, 111, 132, 145; winning verses recital 149–50, 151–52; winning verses sent to G 151; and WRS 106, 124, 126, 149; yearly allowance 164 Chinnery, Margaret née Tresilian 3–6, 15, 24; ambitions for children 54, 104, 114–15; birth/birthday 15, 74, 99, 139; charity 55–56, 85, 132–33; death 184; education (own) 3–4, 16–21, 24, 92, 145; on English histories 121; on English poetry/ prose style 145–47; hostess 59, 63, 96 (see also sociability); Mrs Francis Jackson on 137; love of music 16, 23; marriage 9, 22, 24, 28–29; poetry/ prose translation 132; public opinion 10, 39, 113–14, 180; pupils taken in 55–57, 133; training of musicians 180, 182; religion and reason 4, 25, 98, 180; religious convictions 6, 25–26, 55–56, 100, 129–30, 151; Roman matron 115–16; and society 64, 81, 110 (see also society); and Staël 6, 129–30

Index  203 Chinnery, Margaret (‘little’) née Colnett 56, 93, 111–12, 134–35, 148, 179 Chinnery, Matilda 56, 93, 111–12, 134–35, 179 Chinnery, Walter Grenfell 33, 43, 45, 49–54, 62–63, 68, 76–77 Chinnery, William Bassett 7, 9–10, 24, 28–29, 33, 38; advice from MC on pleading a case 161; birthday fête 81–82; death 183; defalcation 162–63, 173n37; good conversationalist 96 Chinnery, William junior (father of WBC) 16–17; Writing and Drawing Made Easy 16 Chinnery, William senior (grandfather of WBC) 16–17; The Compendious Emblematist 16 Christie sale catalogue of Chinnery library 7–11, 9, 25, 121, 179 Cicero’s Offices 21, 153 Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion 121 Cohen, Michèle 64 Colnett, Rev. Isaac 55–56 commonplace book 87–88, 101n45, 113, 132, 147, 155 Copleston, Edward 146–47 Corne, William (GRC’s public tutor at Oxford) 109, 118, 156 Cowper, William, Poems 80 Cramer, John Baptist 141 Deffand, Madame du Correspondance 135 De Ritter, Richard 10 Descartes, René 30, 179 Devonshire, 5th Duke of 96 Dulau, A.B. 148 Dunmore, Susan Countess of 96, 122, 178 Edgeworth, Maria 7, 11, 32, 73, 97, 176–77; A Practical Education 32, 59 Edgeworth, Richard Lovell 13n12, 32, 59, 73 Edinburgh Review 9, 146–47; Advice to Young Ladies 125 education activities (of MC) 41–45; conversation (instructive) 41–42, 44, 59, 94; conversation (sociable) 59–60; excursions (instructive) 68, 85–88; fêtes domestiques 74–75, 81–82; games 33, 38, 43, 51 (see also

Gaultier, Abbé); ‘musique enfamille’ (domestic music) 44–45; play-acting 81–83; writing ‘examples’ 43, 58; writing ‘extracts’ 43, 111 education method (of MC) 3, 5; children’s age differences 63; definition of terms 69, 180; early childhood/infancy 16, 33–34, 42–44; education journal 9, 10, 41, 49–50, 100, 172; education plan tripartite 170; explained to Princess of Wales 182; gender differentiation 54–55; grammar 63, 79; history lessons 95; intention to publish 3, 115, 183; learning by heart 58; notes (own) on Roman history 60–61; progress reports 57–61; regulation of time 20, 63–64, 79, 84, 110–11, 176; religious instruction 33–34, 42, 100; rewards and punishments 61, 89, 91–93; submission/obedience 45, 88–90; teaching piano 98 education at Oxford (MC on): civilising influence of women 152; course of reading after 117–18; criticism 107– 09, 117, 146–47, 153, 180; ‘glory’/ reputation 114, 116–17; no modern languages 108, 147–48; preparation for viva voce examinations 112–13 education philosophy (of MC) 6–7, 108, 178, 183; children as educator’s ‘work’ 114, 123, 133–34, 152; common sense philosophy 32; continuing education into adulthood 104, 180, 183; credit/gratitude due to educator 75, 99–100, 114, 150, 155; education and religious ideas enmeshed 30; emulation 117, 172, 180; endorsed by MC’s male supporters 7, 181; liberality 70, 85; Lockean principles 6–7 (see also Locke, John); perfection 105, 116, 123, 152; piety 107–08; polite accomplishments 97, 99, 176–77; reason and religion 23, 98; self-command 83, 88–90 (see also passions); thinking for oneself/ judgement 4–5, 21–22, 30, 87, 107, 113, 146; virtue (Christian) 32, 85, 89, 170, 178, 183; see also Hamilton, Elizabeth Elgin, Lord 153, 154; Earl of Elgin’s Pursuits in Greece 179–80 Encænia (Commemoration of Founders and Benefactors) 148–49, 151–52, 161

204 Index Enfield, William, Speaker 62 Englefield, Sir Harry 94 English Review 1–2, 20, 62 Enlightenment 4–5, 7, 11, 30, 123, 182–84 Épinay, Louise-Florence d’ 7, 20; Conversations d’Émilie 59, 80 Estève, Pierre, L’Esprit des Beaux Arts 179 Euripides 34, 121 Farington, Joseph 5, 68, 98, 162, 164 Fawson, Elizabeth Dovee (MC’s stepmother) 17 Fénelon, François de Salignac de 19, 110; Les Aventures de Télémaque 20, 108, 128–29; Œuvres spirituelles 20 Fiévée, Joseph 71 Fincastle, Lady Susan see Dunmore, Countess of Fleury, Claude, Catéchisme historique 58 Fontenelle, Bernard de 5, 25, 30 Fox’s Reign of James the Second 121 French governess (‘Mamselle’) 41–42, 50, 60, 63 French Revolution 11, 30, 31, 41, 115, 183 Froissart, Jean 132; Chronicles 131 Garat, Dominique Joseph 2, 7 Gaultier, Abbé 36–37, 43–44, 51, 79, 180; Jeu de grammaire 36–37, 79, 180; Leçons de géographie 43 Genlis, Stéphanie-Félicité de 1–2, 4, 6, 16, 19, 175; benefits of playacting 57–58; ‘blind’ submission of pupil 62, 72; and Campe 72–73; children’s memory capacity 41; conversation (instructive) 44; death of CC 163–64; educating daughters 23–24; education as amusement 16, 33; filial/pupil gratitude 75, 155, 167; on Elizabeth Hamilton 72; importunate questioning 45, 86; insights into juvenile mind 175; love of the arts 16, 177; and Macaulay 29, 33, 72–73; mythology 41; polite accomplishments 23, 33, 176; romance addressed to MC 74–75; teaching to a child’s capacity 42; tripartite education aims 33–34; see also Adèle et Théodore Genlis, Stéphanie-Félicité de (works): Adelaide and Theodore 1; Annales

de la vertu 58, 79; Annals of Virtue 9; The Beauties of Genlis 71; Herbier moral 60, 75, 84; Leçons d’une gouvernante à ses élèves 49, 54; Madame de Maintenon 3, 80, 98; New Method of Instruction for Children 10, 41–42, 44–45, 86; Nouvelles heures 55, 79; Nouvelle Méthode pour apprendre à jouer de la harpe 56; Les Petits Émigrés 79–80; La Philosophie chrétienne 10; Sacred Dramas 10; A Selection from the Annals of Virtue 10; Théâtre à l’usage des jeunes personnes (Theatre of Education) 57, 60, 79; unidentified work on mythology 10, 14n52, 41, 47n69; unpublished notes on mythology 41, 75; Veillées du château (Tales of the Castle) 60, 79, 83; see also Adèle et Théodore Gessner, Salomon, Idyllen 93 Gillwell 19, 24, 31, 38–41, 55, 65n9; fitted up for education 44; open air theatre 39, 82–83 Gisborne, Thomas 5, 31; Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex 31, 35; Enquiry into the Duties of Men 131; Familiar Survey of the Christian Religion 31 Gloucester, Duke of 150 Gloucester, Princess Sophie 150 Goldsmid, Abraham 162 Granville, Harriet Countess 96, 134, 174n50 Grassini, Giuseppina 85, 91 Gray, Robert, Key to the Old Testament 80 Greene, Miss Mary Whitaker 184 Grenby, M.O. 37 Grenfell, Charles 93, 111 Grenfell, Pascoe 33, 64, 93–94, 150–51, 154 Grenville, Lady 150 Grenville, Lord William Wyndham 148 Grenville, Thomas 150 Greville, Colonel 94 Guthrie, William 21–22 Hall, Charles (dean of Christ Church) 117, 165, 167–68 Hamilton, Antoine Comte d’, Les Contes d’Hamilton 128 Hamilton, Elizabeth 6–7, 31, 38, 94, 108; on the arts 178; associationism 32, 138, 178; common sense

Index  205 philosophy 32, 176; Elementary Principles of Education 72; Memoirs of the Life of Agrippina 115–16; on Miss Elizabeth Smith 131; perfection in children 32, 123; polite accomplishments 178; reading after marriage 28; simplicity 123, 131; taste 22, 138, 178 Hamilton, Emma 99 Hamilton, Lady Mary 17; Letters from the Duchess de Crui 17; see also school Hamilton, Sir William 86, 88 happiness 25, 183; and the arts 177; and duty 31; and education 4–5, 100, 176, 178; GRC on 178–79; and religion 4, 130, 132, 179; and simplicity 123; and virtue 4–5, 25, 132, 178 Healy, Dr Robert 94, 102n75 Holbach, Paul-Henri Thiry, Baron d’ 5–6, 25–26; Système de la nature 5–6 Holland, Bridget (cousin of MC) 98 Holland, Henry (uncle of MC) 15, 19, 21, 24, 40, 56, 86 Hope, Thomas 86–87, 138 Horace 9, 92, 124, 135; Equam memento 124 Hume, David 18–19, 70, 153, 180, 182–83; History of England 121; ‘Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences’ 18–19, 70 Jackson, Cyril (dean of Christ Church) 105–06, 156–57, 167 Jackson, Francis (diplomat) 136, 140, 164 Jackson, Mrs Francis 137 James, Miss, A Selection from the Annals of Virtue 9 Jenkin, Robert 31 Johnes, Thomas 131–32 Johnson, Samuel 28, 145 Jones, Sir William 109, 123–24, 169; ‘On the Arts, commonly called Imitative’ 109, 179 Joyce, Jeremiah, Scientific Dialogues 59, 80 Kant, Immanuel 4, 123 Kennet, Basil, Roman Antiquities 81 Klopstock, Friedrich Gottlieb 133 Knight, Richard Payne 96, 153; Analytical Enquiry into the Principles of Taste 153, 179

Knox, Vicesimus 64; Extracts, Elegant and Instructive 112; Liberal Education 110 La Cainea, chevalier 128 La Fite, Marie-Élisabeth de 20, 82; Entretiens 59 La Harpe, Jean-François de, L’Abrégé de l’Histoire générale 60 Lambert, marquise de 7, 23, 98; Avis d’unemère à sa fille 23 Le Brun see Vigée Le Brun, Élisabeth Leitrim, Lady 134 Le Prince de Beaumont, Madame 7, 22–23; Instructions pour les jeunes dames 23 Le Ragois, Claude see Ovid’s Metamorphoses letter-writing 4, 21, 105, 146, 154–55, 180 Lloyd, Charles (GRC’s private tutor at Oxford) 108–09, 118, 156 Locke, John 2, 19–20, 25, 27n52, 28–30, 108, 121, 181–83; associationism 32–33, 43; ‘breeding’ 110, 170–71; Concerning Human Understanding 21, 25, 69; conversation with men of parts 94; definition of terms 69; education as amusement 16, 38; human mind a tabula rasa 105; passions 88; physical exercise 53; pleasing demeanour 153; re-reading 59; school/home education 64; sheepishness 85; virtue and wisdom synonymous 70 Louis-Philippe (pupil of G) 176 Lussan, Marguerite de, Les Anecdotes de la cour de Philippe-Auguste 112 Luttrell, Henry 94 Macaulay Graham, Catharine 2, 6, 11, 13n43, 26, 31, 123; and G 29, 33, 72–73; Letters on Education 2, 9, 29–30, 73; no modern language teaching 177; passions 83; polite accomplishments non-essential 176–77 Macpherson, James, Poems of Ossian 130–31; Poems of Ossian (in Italian) 130 Malcor, M. de (French courtier) 168–69 Maradan, François 2, 74; Nouvelle Bibliothèque des romans 2, 74 Marcus Aurelius 29 ‘Margaret Chinnery album’ 40

206 Index Maria (MC’s pupil) see Philipps, Martha Marlborough, 4th Duke of (WRS’s uncle) 96, 110, 126, 165 Mason, William, Sappho (in Italian) 130 Maty, Paul, Sermons 24–25 Mavor, William Fordyce, Elements of Natural History 91 Mengs, Raphael, ‘Reflections upon beauty and taste’ 68 Mentelle, Édmé, Géographie comparée 57, 59 Le Mercure de France 1, 20, 79 Metastasio, Pietro 20, 80; Opere 80 Milton, John 20; Paradise Lost 108, 121, 127 Molière 34; Les Femmes Savantes 24, 128 Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley 21 Montaigne, Michel de 19, 21, 38, 112, 132, 146; ‘Of the Education of Children’ 108; ‘Of Pedantry’ 108 Montesquieu, Charles-Louis de 20–21, 112, 115 Monthly Review 9, 38, 90 More, Hannah 5, 7, 31–32, 61, 123, 176–77; Strictures 31 Mullens, Rev. John (classics master) 63, 76, 81, 92–93, 106, 157 nature 22, 25, 111, 138, 178; see also Quintilian natural history 51, 88, 91, 92, 93 Newbery, John 37; The Accomplish’d Housewife 15–16; Easy Introduction to the English Language 37 New Testament 55, 145, 157n1 Nicole, Pierre, Essais de morale 100 Nivernais, duc de 180; Œuvres 180 Orléans, duchesse d’ 168, 171 Ovid’s Metamorphoses for children 58, 76, 80 Parkhurst, John 145 passions 83, 90, 130 patronage 165, 167, 168, 170, 184 Pearson, Jacqueline 10 Pepys, Sir William Weller 125–26 Perceval, Spencer 161–62, 166 Pfeffel, Baron Christian Hubert von 179 Philipps, Martha (pupil of MC) 50, 53, 139, 179

Plagnol-Diéval, Marie-Emmanuelle 19 Planta, Joseph 170 Pope, Alexander 20, 138, 178; Epistle to the Earl of Burlington 87; Essay on Criticism 138; see also taste Porter, Jane 181 Price, Richard 7, 30, 183 Priestley, Joseph 7, 30, 183 prince regent (later George IV) 124, 139–40, 152, 165, 182; and CC 160, 162 Quarterly Review 9 Quintilian 11–12, 16, 22, 29, 108; exercise for the would-be orator 113; fine arts 22, 135–36; Institutes of Eloquence 11, 19, 21–22, 113, 123; nature 22, 111, 123, 178; pleading a case 161; recitation of poetry 152; simplicity 123; taste 21–22, 111, 138–39 Radcliffe, Anne, Romance of the Forest 80 Rapin, Paul, Histoired’ Angleterre 121 reading 5, 10, 23, 28–30, 32, 45, 58; CC’s ‘light reading’ 121; MC’s adolescent 20–21; MC’s breadth 5, 179; see also Christie sale catalogue reading aloud 21, 34, 60, 111, 128–31, 180 Reeve, Clara 2, 38, 72 Rendall, Jane 7 Repton, Humphry 39, 82 re-reading 42, 59, 108, 172 Rice, John 34; Art of Reading 34, 180 Robertson, Ritchie 4, 182 Rogers, Samuel 83, 101n6, 122; Pleasures of Memory 80 Rollin, Charles, Histoire ancienne 80 Rose, George 32–33, 161, 163 Rousseau, Jean-Baptiste, Odes 58–59, 62 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 19, 43, 49, 73, 176–77, 183; Emile 1, 2, 7, 175 Saint-Pierre, Bernadin de, Studies of Nature 30–31 Sainte-Beuve, Charles Augustin 2, 7 Salzmann, Christian Gotthilf, Gymnastics for Youth 53

Index  207 school 17–18, 21, 26n18, 64, 93, 156, 157n20 Sévigné, Madame de 21, 128, 154–55 Shakespeare, William 20, 34, 112, 121, 128 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley 152 Sicard, Abbé 68–69 simplicity 69, 123–24, 140, 146, 151 Smith, Adam 183 Smith, Miss Elizabeth 30, 123, 125, 131–33, 145, 154; Fragments 131, 180 Soane, Sir John 40, 87 sociability 86, 91, 102n62, 105, 133; conversation 44, 59, 94, 96, 180; no conversation at table at Christ Church 59; enlightened 30, 70; ‘the Graces’ 82, 83, 84, 99, 137, 153; Madrid 169–70; le naturel 99, 169; politeness 6, 49, 83, 119n22, 182; voice modulation 153 society 96, 133–37, 182; CC in 97, 126, 133–34, 137, 139–41, 177; concerts 33–35, 70; equality of women 6, 183; forming connections 64, 106, 134, 152, 166, 170; hard work to launch daughter 135; harmonious relations 4, 6, 99, 180; manners transcend nationality 71, 183; MC and the ‘fashionables’ 136; MC’s reputation as educator 3, 93–94, 98, 110, 115, 133–34, 150; in Paris 71, 168, 171 Sotheby, Mary 133 Sotheby, William 7, 61, 94, 133 Spencer, Lord Charles 95–96, 110 Spencer, Hon. William Robert 57, 83, 94–96, 111–12, 168, 182; and CC 96, 121–22, 124–27, 162; and GRC 106, 124, 126, 149; and MC 7, 127, 150; Poems 127, 149; reading aloud 128; on Staël’s Corinne 129; on taste 138–39 Staël, Madame de 6, 11, 118, 181; De l’Allemagne 130; Corinne 108, 129; On the Influence of the Passions 130, 181; De la Littérature 118; and MC 6, 129–30 Stanhope, Hon. Eugenia 29; Deportment of Married Life 29 Stewart, Charles William 166 Stewart, Dugald, Philosophy of the Human Mind 31–32, 123, 178

Tasso, Torquato, Gerusalemme liberate 108 taste 68, 70, 85, 137–39, 178–80; arbiters 97, 153; CC’s musical 122; cultivation 35, 68, 87; and nature 111, 138; and sense 21–22, 124; and simplicity 124 Taylor, Barbara 70, 182 Terrasson, Jean, Sethos 80, 112 Tierney, George 152 Titchfield, Marquess of 164 Townley, Charles 87–88 Tresilian, Leonard (father of MC) 15–17, 19 Tresilian, Margaret née Holland (mother of MC) 3–4, 15–17 Trimmer, Sarah 42, 44, 57–58, 60, 75; Catechism of the Church of England 60; Easy Introduction to […] Reading the Holy Scripture 42 Trumpf, Herr C.L. (resident tutor) 7, 91–93, 95, 106, 108, 121, 124 Vaudreuil, comte de 167–68, 182 Vickers, William, Companion to the Altar 100 Vigée Le Brun, Élisabeth 41, 75, 81, 85–87, 183 Viotti, Giovanni Battista 41, 64, 70, 83; and CC 45, 51–52, 55, 122, 136, 178; death 183; domestic concerts 35, 45; and MC 7, 16, 34–35, 50, 54, 62; and WGC (see Chinnery, Walter Grenfell) Virgil’s Georgics 81 virtue 3–4, 23, 70, 99, 105, 110; and happiness 4–5, 25, 132, 178; and reading 23; and simplicity 69, 146; and wisdom 21, 23, 70, 73 Voltaire 128, 181–83 Wales, Prince of see prince regent Wales, Princess of 134, 150 Walker, Adam 153 Watts, Isaac 28, 34, 42–44, 60–61; Catechisms 42, 55; Hymns 42; Improvement of the Mind 28, 60–61; Logick 28; Treatise on the Education of Children 42 Wellesley, Richard 164 West, Benjamin 153–54 West, Jane 7, 31, 180–81

208 Index Wharton, Joanna 6–7 White, Miss Lydia 136 Wieland, Christoph Martin, Oberon 131

Wollstonecraft, Mary 6, 72, 182–83; Vindication of the Rights of Women 6 women 5–6, 30–31, 70, 125–26, 132, 180–83; GRC on female authors 181