Tales and Novels, vol 1 | Page 2

she has smuggled herself into good company, is ashamed to
acknowledge her former friends, to whom she was bound by the
strongest ties of gratitude.
"Mademoiselle Panache" is a sketch of the necessary consequences of
imprudently trusting the happiness of a daughter to the care of those
who can teach nothing but accomplishments.

"The Prussian Vase" is a lesson against imprudence, and on exercise of
judgment, and an eulogium upon our inestimable trial by jury. This tale
is designed principally for young gentlemen who are intended for the
bar.
"The Good Governess" is a lesson to teach the art of giving lessons.
In "The Good Aunt," the advantages which a judicious early education
confers upon those who are intended for public seminaries are pointed
out. It is a common error to suppose that, let a boy be what he may,
when sent to Eton, Westminster, Harrow, or any great school, he will
be moulded into proper form by the fortuitous pressure of numbers;
that emulation will necessarily excite, example lead, and opposition
polish him. But these are vain hopes: the solid advantages which may
be attained in these large nurseries of youth must be, in a great measure,
secured by previous domestic instruction.
These Tales have been written to illustrate the opinions delivered in
"Practical Education." As their truth has appeared to me to be
confirmed by increasing experience, I sat down with pleasure to write
this preface for my daughter. It is hoped that the following stories will
afford agreeable relaxation from severer studies, and that they will be
thought--what they profess to be--Moral Tales.
R.L. EDGEWORTH

CONTENTS.
FORESTER
THE PRUSSIAN VASE
THE GOOD AUNT
ANGELINA; OR, L'AMIE INCONNUE
THE GOOD FRENCH GOVERNESS
MADEMOISELLE PANACHE
THE KNAPSACK

FORESTER
Forester was the son of an English gentleman, who had paid some
attention to his education, but who had some singularities of opinion,
which probably influenced him in his conduct toward his children.
Young Forester was frank, brave, and generous, but he had been taught

to dislike politeness so much, that the common forms of society
appeared to him either odious or ridiculous; his sincerity was seldom
restrained by any attention to the feelings of others. His love of
independence was carried to such an extreme, that he was inclined to
prefer the life of Robinson Crusoe in his desert island, to that of any
individual in cultivated society. His attention had been early fixed upon
the follies and vices of the higher classes of people; and his contempt
for selfish indolence was so strongly associated with the name of
gentleman, that he was disposed to choose his friends and companions
from amongst his inferiors: the inequality between the rich and the poor
shocked him; his temper was enthusiastic as well as benevolent; and he
ardently wished to be a man, and to be at liberty to act for himself, that
he might reform society, or at least his own neighbourhood. When he
was about nineteen years old, his father died, and young Forester was
sent to Edinburgh, to Dr. Campbell, the gentleman whom his father had
appointed his guardian. In the choice of his mode of travelling his
disposition appeared. The stage-coach and a carrier set out nearly at the
same time from Penrith. Forester, proud of bringing his principles
immediately into action, put himself under the protection of the carrier,
and congratulated himself upon his freedom from prejudice. He arrived
at Edinburgh in all the glory of independence, and he desired the carrier
to set him down at Dr. Campbell's door.
"The doctor is not at home," said the footman, who opened the door.
"He is at home," exclaimed Forester with indignation; "I see him at the
window."
"My master is just going to dinner, and can't see any body now," said
the footman; "but if you will call again at six o'clock, maybe he may
see you, my good lad."
"My name is Forester--let me in," said Forester, pushing-forwards.
"Forester!--Mr. Forester!" said the footman; "the young gentleman that
was expected in the coach to-day?" Without deigning to give the
footman any explanation, Forester took his own portmanteau from the
carrier; and Dr. Campbell came down-stairs just when the footman was
officiously struggling with the young gentleman for his burden. Dr.
Campbell received his pupil very kindly; but Forester would not be
prevailed upon to rub his shoes sufficiently upon the mat at the bottom
of the stairs, or to change his disordered dress before he made his

appearance in the drawing-room. He entered with dirty shoes, a
threadbare coat, and hair that looked as if it never had been combed;
and he was much surprised by the effect which his singular appearance
produced upon the risible muscles of some of the company.
"I have done nothing to be ashamed