All night the dreadleſs angel unpurſuedThrough heaven's wide champain held his way.BookVI.
All night the dreadleſs angel unpurſuedThrough heaven's wide champain held his way.
BookVI.
Nowonder he was received with ſuch acclamations of joy by the celeſtial powers, when there was
But one,Yes, of ſo many myriads fall'n, but oneReturn'd not loſt.Ibid.
But one,Yes, of ſo many myriads fall'n, but oneReturn'd not loſt.
Ibid.
Andafterwards, in a cloſe conteſt with the arch fiend,
A noble ſtroke he lifted highOn the proud creſt of Satan.Ibid.
A noble ſtroke he lifted highOn the proud creſt of Satan.
Ibid.
Whatwas the effect of this courage of the vigilant and active ſeraph?
Amazement ſeiz'dThe rebel throne, but greater rage to ſeeThus foil'd their mightieſt.
Amazement ſeiz'dThe rebel throne, but greater rage to ſeeThus foil'd their mightieſt.
Abdielhad the ſuperiority of Belial as much in the warlike combat, as in the peaceful counſels.
Nor was it ought but juſt,That he who in debate of truth had won,Shou'd win in arms, in both diſputes alikeVictor.
Nor was it ought but juſt,That he who in debate of truth had won,Shou'd win in arms, in both diſputes alikeVictor.
Butnotwithſtanding I have ſpoken with ſome aſperity againſt ſentiment as oppoſed to principle, yet I am convinced, that true genuine ſentiment, (not the ſort I have been deſcribing) may be ſo connected with principle, as to beſtow on it its brighteſt luſtre, and its moſt captivating graces. And enthuſiaſm is ſo far from being diſagreeable, that a portion of it is perhaps indiſpenſably neceſſary in an engaging woman. But it muſt be the enthuſiaſm of the heart, not of the ſenſes. It muſt be the enthuſiaſm which grows up with a feeling mind, and is cheriſhed by a virtuous education; not that which is compounded of irregular paſſions, and artificially refined by books of unnatural fiction and improbable adventure. I will even go ſo far as to aſſert, that a young woman cannot have any real greatneſs of ſoul, or true elevation of principle, if ſhe has not a tincture of what the vulgar would call Romance, but which perſons of a certainway of thinking will diſcern to proceed from thoſe fine feelings, and that charming ſenſibility, without which, though a woman may be worthy, yet ſhe can never be amiable.
Butthis dangerous merit cannot be too rigidly watched, as it is very apt to lead thoſe who poſſeſs it into inconveniencies from which leſs intereſting characters are happily exempt. Young women of ſtrong ſenſibility may be carried by the very amiableneſs of this temper into the moſt alarming extremes. Their taſtes are paſſions. They love and hate with all their hearts, and ſcarcely ſuffer themſelves to feel a reaſonable preference before it ſtrengthens into a violent attachment.
Whenan innocent girl of this open, truſting, tender heart, happens to meetwith one of her own ſex and age, whoſe addreſs and manners are engaging, ſhe is inſtantly ſeized with an ardent deſire to commence a friendſhip with her. She feels the moſt lively impatience at the reſtraints of company, and the decorums of ceremony. She longs to be alone with her, longs to aſſure her of the warmth of her tenderneſs, and generouſly aſcribes to the fair ſtranger all the good qualities ſhe feels in her own heart, or rather all thoſe which ſhe has met with in her reading, diſperſed in a variety of heroines. She is perſuaded, that her new friend unites them all in herſelf, becauſe ſhe carries in her prepoſſeſſing countenance the promiſe of them all. How cruel and how cenſorious would this inexperienced girl think her mother was, who ſhould venture to hint, that the agreeable unknown had defects in her temper, or exceptions in her character. She would miſtake theſe hints of diſcretion for the inſinuations of an uncharitable diſpoſition. At firſt ſhe would perhaps liſten to them with a generous impatience, and afterwards with a cold and ſilent diſdain. She would deſpiſe them as the effect of prejudice, miſrepreſentation, or ignorance. The more aggravated the cenſure, the more vehemently would ſhe proteſt in ſecret, that her friendſhip for this dear injured creature (who is raiſed much higher in her eſteem by ſuch injurious ſuſpicions) ſhall know no bounds, as ſhe is aſſured it can know no end.
Yetthis truſting confidence, this honeſt indiſcretion, is, at this early period of life as amiable as it is natural; and will, if wiſely cultivated, produce,at its proper ſeaſon, fruits infinitely more valuable than all the guarded circumſpection of premature, and therefore artificial, prudence. Men, I believe, are ſeldom ſtruck with theſe ſudden prepoſſeſſions in favour of each other. They are not ſo unſuſpecting, nor ſo eaſily led away by the predominance of fancy. They engage more warily, and paſs through the ſeveral ſtages of acquaintance, intimacy, and confidence, by ſlower gradations; but women, if they are ſometimes deceived in the choice of a friend, enjoy even then an higher degree of ſatiſfaction than if they never truſted. For to be always clad in the burthenſome armour of ſuſpicion is more painful and inconvenient, than to run the hazard of ſuffering now and then a tranſient injury.
Butthe above obſervations only extend to the young and the inexperienced; for I am very certain, that women are capable of as faithful and as durable friendſhip as any of the other ſex. They can enter not only into all the enthuſiaſtic tenderneſs, but into all the ſolid fidelity of attachment. And if we cannot oppoſe inſtances of equal weight with thoſe of Nyſus and Euryalus, Theſeus and Pirithous, Pylades and Oreſtes, let it be remembered, that it is becauſe the recorders of thoſe characters were men, and that the very exiſtence of them is merely poetical.
[6]See Voltaire's Prophecy concerning Rouſſeau.
[6]See Voltaire's Prophecy concerning Rouſſeau.
A lowvoice and ſoft addreſs are the common indications of a well-bred woman, and ſhould ſeem to be the natural effects of a meek and quiet ſpirit; but they are only the outward and viſible ſigns of it: forthey are no more meekneſs itſelf, than a red coat is courage, or a black one devotion.
Yetnothing is more common than to miſtake the ſign for the thing itſelf; nor is any practice more frequent than that of endeavouring to acquire the exterior mark, without once thinking to labour after the interior grace. Surely this is beginning at the wrong end, like attacking the ſymptom and neglecting the diſeaſe. To regulate the features, while the ſoul is in tumults, or to command the voice while the paſſions are without reſtraint, is as idle as throwing odours into a ſtream when the ſource is polluted.
Theſapient king, who knew better than any man the nature and the power of beauty, has aſſured us, that thetemper of the mind has a ſtrong influence upon the features: "Wiſdom maketh the face to ſhine," ſays that exquiſite judge; and ſurely no part of wiſdom is more likely to produce this amiable effect, than a placid ſerenity of ſoul.
Itwill not be difficult to diſtinguiſh the true from the artificial meekneſs. The former is univerſal and habitual, the latter, local and temporary. Every young female may keep this rule by her, to enable her to form a juſt judgment of her own temper: if ſhe is not as gentle to her chambermaid as ſhe is to her viſitor, ſhe may reſt ſatiſfied that the ſpirit of gentleneſs is not in her.
Whowould not be ſhocked and diſappointed to behold a well-bredyoung lady, ſoft and engaging as the doves of Venus, diſplaying a thouſand graces and attractions to win the hearts of a large company, and the inſtant they are gone, to ſee her look mad as the Pythian maid, and all the frightened graces driven from her furious countenance, only becauſe her gown was brought home a quarter of an hour later than ſhe expected, or her ribbon ſent half a ſhade lighter or darker than ſhe ordered?
Allmen's characters are ſaid to proceed from their ſervants; and this is more particularly true of ladies: for as their ſituations are more domeſtic, they lie more open to the inſpection of their families, to whom their real characters are eaſily and perfectly known; for they ſeldom think it worth while to practiſe any diſguiſe beforethoſe, whoſe good opinion they do not value, and who are obliged to ſubmit to their moſt inſupportable humours, becauſe they are paid for it.
Amongstwomen of breeding, the exterior of gentleneſs is ſo uniformly aſſumed, and the whole manner is ſo perfectly level anduni, that it is next to impoſſible for a ſtranger to know any thing of their true diſpoſitions by converſing with them, and even the very features are ſo exactly regulated, that phyſiognomy, which may ſometimes be truſted among the vulgar, is, with the polite, a moſt lying ſcience.
A verytermagant woman, if ſhe happens alſo to be a very artful one, will be conſcious ſhe has ſo much to conceal, that the dread of betrayingher real temper will make her put on an over-acted ſoftneſs, which, from its very exceſs, may be diſtinguiſhed from the natural, by a penetrating eye. That gentleneſs is ever liable to be ſuſpected for the counterfeited, which is ſo exceſſive as to deprive people of the proper uſe of ſpeech and motion, or which, as Hamlet ſays, makes them liſp and amble, and nick-name God's creatures.
Thecountenance and manners of ſome very faſhionable perſons may be compared to the inſcriptions on their monuments, which ſpeak nothing but good of what is within; but he who knows any thing of the world, or of the human heart, will no more truſt to the courteſy, than he will depend on the epitaph.
Amongthe various artifices of factitious meekneſs, one of the moſt frequent and moſt plauſible, is that of affecting to be always equally delighted with all perſons and all characters. The ſociety of theſe languid beings is without confidence, their friendſhip without attachment, and their love without affection, or even preference. This inſipid mode of conduct may be ſafe, but I cannot think it has either taſte, ſenſe, or principle in it.
Theseuniformly ſmiling and approving ladies, who have neither the noble courage to reprehend vice, nor the generous warmth to bear their honeſt teſtimony in the cauſe of virtue, conclude every one to be ill-natured who has any penetration, and look upon a diſtinguiſhing judgment as want of tenderneſs. But they ſhould learn,that this diſcernment does not always proceed from an uncharitable temper, but from that long experience and thorough knowledge of the world, which lead thoſe who have it to ſcrutinize into the conduct and diſpoſition of men, before they truſt entirely to thoſe fair appearances, which ſometimes veil the moſt inſidious purpoſes.
Weare perpetually miſtaking the qualities and diſpoſitions of our own hearts. We elevate our failings into virtues, and qualify our vices into weakneſſes: and hence ariſe ſo many falſe judgments reſpecting meekneſs. Self-ignorance is at the root of all this miſchief. Many ladies complain that, for their part, their ſpirit is ſo meek they can bear nothing; whereas, if they ſpoke truth, they would ſay, their ſpirit is ſo high and unbroken thatthey can bear nothing. Strange! to plead their meekneſs as a reaſon why they cannot endure to be croſſed, and to produce their impatience of contradiction as a proof of their gentleneſs!
Meekness, like moſt other virtues, has certain limits, which it no ſooner exceeds than it becomes criminal. Servility of ſpirit is not gentleneſs but weakneſs, and if allowed, under the ſpecious appearances it ſometimes puts on, will lead to the moſt dangerous compliances. She who hears innocence maligned without vindicating it, falſehood aſſerted without contradicting it, or religion prophaned without reſenting it, is not gentle but wicked.
Togive up the cauſe of an innocent, injured friend, if the popular cry happens to be againſt him, is the moſtdiſgraceful weakneſs. This was the caſe of Madame de Maintenon. She loved the character and admired the talents of Racine; ſhe careſſed him while he had no enemies, but wanted the greatneſs of mind, or rather the common juſtice, to protect him againſt their reſentment when he had; and her favourite was abandoned to the ſuſpicious jealouſy of the king, when a prudent remonſtrance might have preſerved him.—But her tameneſs, if not abſolute connivance in the great maſſacre of the proteſtants, in whoſe church ſhe had been bred, is a far more guilty inſtance of her weakneſs; an inſtance which, in ſpite of all her devotional zeal and incomparable prudence, will diſqualify her from ſhining in the annals of good women, however ſhe may be entitled to figure among the great and the fortunate.Compare her conduct with that of her undaunted and pious countryman and contemporary, Bougi, who, when Louis would have prevailed on him to renounce his religion for a commiſſion or a government, nobly replied, "If I could be perſuaded to betray my God for a marſhal's ſtaff, I might betray my king for a bribe of much leſs conſequence."
Meeknessis imperfect, if it be not both active and paſſive; if it will not enable us to ſubdue our own paſſions and reſentments, as well as qualify us to bear patiently the paſſions and reſentments of others.
Beforewe give way to any violent emotion of anger, it would perhaps be worth while to conſider the value of the object which excites it, and to reflect for a moment, whether the thing we ſo ardently deſire, or ſo vehemently reſent, be really of as much importance to us, as that delightful tranquillity of ſoul, which we renounce in purſuit of it. If, on a fair calculation, we find we are not likely to get as much as we are ſure to loſe, then, putting all religious conſiderations out of the queſtion, common ſenſe and human policy will tell us, we have made a fooliſh and unprofitable exchange. Inward quiet is a part of one's ſelf; the object of our reſentment may be only a matter of opinion; and, certainly, what makes a portion of our actual happineſs ought to be too dear to us, to be ſacrificed for a trifling, foreign, perhaps imaginary good.
Themoſt pointed ſatire I remember to have read, on a mind enſlaved byanger, is an obſervation of Seneca's. "Alexander (ſaid he) had two friends, Clitus and Lyſimachus; the one he expoſed to a lion, the other to himſelf: he who was turned looſe to the beaſt eſcaped, but Clitus was murdered, for he was turned looſe to an angry man."
A passionatewoman's happineſs is never in her own keeping: it is the ſport of accident, and the ſlave of events. It is in the power of her acquaintance, her ſervants, but chiefly of her enemies, and all her comforts lie at the mercy of others. So far from being willing to learn of him who was meek and lowly, ſhe conſiders meekneſs as the want of a becoming ſpirit, and lowlineſs as a deſpicable and vulgar meanneſs. And an imperious woman will ſo little covet theornament of a meek and quiet ſpirit, that it is almoſt the only ornament ſhe will not be ſolicitous to wear. But reſentment is a very expenſive vice. How dearly has it coſt its votaries, even from the ſin of Cain, the firſt offender in this kind! "It is cheaper (ſays a pious writer) to forgive, and ſave the charges."
Ifit were only for mere human reaſons, it would turn to a better account to be patient; nothing defeats the malice of an enemy like a ſpirit of forbearance; the return of rage for rage cannot be ſo effectually provoking. True gentleneſs, like an impenetrable armour, repels the moſt pointed ſhafts of malice: they cannot pierce through this invulnerable ſhield, but either fall hurtleſs to the ground, or return to wound the hand that ſhot them.
A meekſpirit will not look out of itſelf for happineſs, becauſe it finds a conſtant banquet at home; yet, by a ſort of divine alchymy, it will convert all external events to its own profit, and be able to deduce ſome good, even from the moſt unpromiſing: it will extract comfort and ſatiſfaction from the moſt barren circumſtances: "It will ſuck honey out of the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock."
Butthe ſupreme excellence of this complacent quality is, that it naturally diſpoſes the mind where it reſides, to the practice of every other that is amiable. Meekneſs may be called the pioneer of all the other virtues, which levels every obſtruction, and ſmooths every difficulty that might impede their entrance, or retard their progreſs.
Thepeculiar importance and value of this amiable virtue may be farther ſeen in its permanency. Honours and dignities are tranſient, beauty and riches frail and fugacious, to a proverb. Would not the truly wiſe, therefore, wiſh to have ſome one poſſeſſion, which they might call their own in the ſevereſt exigencies? But this wiſh can only be accompliſhed by acquiring and maintaining that calm and abſolute ſelf-poſſeſſion, which, as the world had no hand in giving, ſo it cannot, by the moſt malicious exertion of its power, take away.
I havenot the fooliſh preſumption to imagine, that I can offer any thing new on a ſubject, which has been ſo ſucceſſfully treated by many learned and able writers. I would only, with all poſſible deference, begleave to hazard a few ſhort remarks on that part of the ſubject of education, which I would call theeducation of the heart. I am well aware, that this part alſo has not been leſs ſkilfully and forcibly diſcuſſed than the reſt, though I cannot, at the ſame time, help remarking, that it does not appear to have been ſo much adopted into common practice.
Itappears then, that notwithſtanding the great and real improvements, which have been made in the affair of female education, and notwithſtanding the more enlarged and generous views of it, which prevail in the preſent day, that there is ſtill a very material defect, which it is not, in general, enough the object of attention to remove. This defect ſeems to conſiſt in this, that too little regard is paidto the diſpoſitions of themind, that the indications of thetemperare not properly cheriſhed, nor the affections of theheartſufficiently regulated.
Inthe firſt education of girls, as far as the cuſtoms which faſhion eſtabliſhes are right, they ſhould undoubtedly be followed. Let the exterior be made a conſiderable object of attention, but let it not be the principal, let it not be the only one.—Let the graces be induſtriouſly cultivated, but let them not be cultivated at the expence of the virtues.—Let the arms, the head, the whole perſon be carefully poliſhed, but let not the heart be the only portion of the human anatomy, which ſhall be totally overlooked.
Theneglect of this cultivation ſeems to proceed as much from a bad taſte,as from a falſe principle. The generality of people form their judgment of education by ſlight and ſudden appearances, which is certainly a wrong way of determining. Muſic, dancing, and languages, gratify thoſe who teach them, by perceptible and almoſt immediate effects; and when there happens to be no imbecillity in the pupil, nor deficiency in the matter, every ſuperficial obſerver can, in ſome meaſure, judge of the progreſs.—The effects of moſt of theſe accompliſhments addreſs themſelves to the ſenſes; and there are more who can ſee and hear, than there are who can judge and reflect.
Personalperfection is not only more obvious, it is alſo more rapid; and even in very accompliſhed characters, elegance uſually precedes principle.
Butthe heart, that natural ſeat of evil propenſities, that little troubleſome empire of the paſſions, is led to what is right by ſlow motions and imperceptible degrees. It muſt be admoniſhed by reproof, and allured by kindneſs. Its livelieſt advances are frequently impeded by the obſtinacy of prejudice, and its brighteſt promiſes often obſcured by the tempeſts of paſſion. It is ſlow in its acquiſition of virtue, and reluctant in its approaches to piety.
Thereis another reaſon, which proves this mental cultivation to be more important, as well as more difficult, than any other part of education. In the uſual faſhionable accompliſhments, the buſineſs of acquiring them is almoſt always getting forwards, and one difficulty is conquered before another is ſuffered to ſhew itſelf; for a prudent teacher will level the road his pupil is to paſs, and ſmooth the inequalities which might retard her progreſs.
Butin morals, (which ſhould be the great object conſtantly kept in view) the talk is far more difficult. The unruly and turbulent deſires of the heart are not ſo obedient; one paſſion will ſtart up before another is ſuppreſſed. The ſubduing Hercules cannot cut off the heads ſo often as the prolific Hydra can produce them, nor fell the ſtubborn Antæus ſo faſt as he can recruit his ſtrength, and riſe in vigorous and repeated oppoſition.
Ifall the accompliſhments could be bought at the price of a ſingle virtue, the purchaſe would be infinitely dear!And, however ſtartling it may ſound, I think it is, notwithſtanding, true, that the labours of a good and wiſe mother, who is anxious for her daughter's moſt important intereſts, willſeemto be at variance with thoſe of her inſtructors. She will doubtleſs rejoice at her progreſs in any polite art, but ſhe will rejoice with trembling:—humility and piety form the ſolid and durable baſis, on which ſhe wiſhes to raiſe the ſuperſtructure of the accompliſhments, while the accompliſhments themſelves are frequently of that unſteady nature, that if the foundation is not ſecured, in proportion as the building is enlarged, it will be overloaded and deſtroyed by thoſe very ornaments, which were intended to embelliſh, what they have contributed to ruin.
Themore oſtenſible qualifications ſhould be carefully regulated, or they will be in danger of putting to flight the modeſt train of retreating virtues, which cannot ſafely ſubſiſt before the bold eye of public obſervation, or bear the bolder tongue of impudent and audacious flattery. A tender mother cannot but feel an honeſt triumph, in contemplating thoſe excellencies in her daughter which deſerve applauſe, but ſhe will alſo ſhudder at the vanity which that applauſe may excite, and at thoſe hitherto unknown ideas which it may awaken.
Themaſter, it is his intereſt, and perhaps his duty, will naturally teach a girl to ſet her improvements in the moſt conſpicuous point of light.Se faire valoiris the great principle induſtriouſly inculcated into her youngheart, and ſeems to be conſidered as a kind of fundamental maxim in education. It is however the certain and effectual ſeed, from which a thouſand yet unborn vanities will ſpring. This dangerous doctrine (which yet is not without its uſes) will be counteracted by the prudent mother, not in ſo many words, but by a watchful and ſcarcely perceptible dexterity. Such an one will be more careful to have the talents of her daughtercultivatedthanexhibited.
Onewould be led to imagine, by the common mode of female education, that life conſiſted of one univerſal holiday, and that the only conteſt was, who ſhould be beſt enabled to excel in the ſports and games that were to be celebrated on it. Merely ornamental accompliſhments will butindifferently qualify a woman to perform thedutiesof life, though it is highly proper ſhe ſhould poſſeſs them, in order to furniſh theamuſementsof it. But is it right to ſpend ſo large a portion of life without ſome preparation for the buſineſs of living? A lady may ſpeak a little French and Italian, repeat a few paſſages in a theatrical tone, play and ſing, have her dreſſing-room hung with her own drawings, and her perſon covered with her own tambour work, and may, notwithſtanding, have been verybadly educated. Yet I am far from attempting to depreciate the value of theſe qualifications: they are moſt of them not only highly becoming, but often indiſpenſably neceſſary, and a polite education cannot be perfected without them. But as the world ſeems to be very well appriſed of their importance, there is the leſs occaſion to inſiſt on their utility. Yet, though well-bred young women ſhould learn to dance, ſing, recite and draw, the end of a good education is not that they may become dancers, ſingers, players or painters: its real object is to make them good daughters, good wives, good miſtreſſes, good members of ſociety, and good chriſtians. The above qualifications therefore are intended toadorntheirleiſure, not toemploytheirlives; for an amiable and wiſe woman will always have ſomething better to value herſelf on, than theſe advantages, which, however captivating, are ſtill but ſubordinate parts of a truly excellent character.
ButI am afraid parents themſelves ſometimes contribute to the error of which I am complaining. Do theynot often ſet a higher value on thoſe acquiſitions which are calculated to attract obſervation, and catch the eye of the multitude, than on thoſe which are valuable, permanent, and internal? Are they not ſometimes more ſolicitous about the opinion of others, reſpecting their children, than about the real advantage and happineſs of the children themſelves? To an injudicious and ſuperficial eye, the beſt educated girl may make the leaſt brilliant figure, as ſhe will probably have leſs flippancy in her manner, and leſs repartee in her expreſſion; and her acquirements, to borrow biſhop Sprat's idea, will be ratherenamelled than emboſſed. But her merit will be known, and acknowledged by all who come near enough to diſcern, and have taſte enough to diſtinguiſh. It will be underſtood and admired by the man,whoſe happineſs ſhe is one day to make, whoſe family ſhe is to govern, and whoſe children ſhe is to educate. He will not ſeek for her in the haunts of diſſipation, for he knows he ſhall not find her there; but he will ſeek for her in the boſom of retirement, in the practice of every domeſtic virtue, in the exertion of every amiable accompliſhment, exerted in the ſhade, to enliven retirement, to heighten the endearing pleaſures of ſocial intercourſe, and to embelliſh the narrow but charming circle of family delights. To this amiable purpoſe, a truly good and well educated young lady will dedicate her more elegant accompliſhments, inſtead of exhibiting them to attract admiration, or depreſs inferiority.
Younggirls, who have more vivacity than underſtanding, will oftenmake a ſprightly figure in converſation. But this agreeable talent for entertaining others, is frequently dangerous to themſelves, nor is it by any means to be deſired or encouraged very early in life. This immaturity of wit is helped on by frivolous reading, which will produce its effect in much leſs time than books of ſolid inſtruction; for the imagination is touched ſooner than the underſtanding; and effects are more rapid as they are more pernicious. Converſation ſhould be thereſultof education, not theprecurſorof it. It is a golden fruit, when ſuffered to grow gradually on the tree of knowledge; but if precipitated by forced and unnatural means, it will in the end become vapid, in proportion as it is artificial.
Thebeſt effects of a careful and religious education are often very remote: they are to be diſcovered in future ſcenes, and exhibited in untried connexions. Every event of life will be putting the heart into freſh ſituations, and making demands on its prudence, its firmneſs, its integrity, or its piety. Thoſe whoſe buſineſs it is to form it, can foreſee none of theſe ſituations; yet, as far as human wiſdom will allow, they muſt enable it to provide for them all, with an humble dependence on the divine aſſiſtance. A well-diſciplined ſoldier muſt learn and practiſe all his evolutions, though he does not know on what ſervice his leader may command him, by what foe he ſhall be attacked, nor what mode of combat the enemy may uſe.
Onegreat art of education conſiſts in not ſuffering the feelings to become too acute by unneceſſary awakening, nor too obtuſe by the want of exertion. The former renders them the ſource of calamity, and totally ruins the temper; while the latter blunts and debaſes them, and produces a dull, cold, and ſelfiſh ſpirit. For the mind is an inſtrument, which, if wound too high, will loſe its ſweetneſs, and if not enough ſtrained, will abate of its vigour.
Howcruel is it to extinguiſh by neglect or unkindneſs, the precious ſenſibility of an open temper, to chill the amiable glow of an ingenuous ſoul, and to quench the bright flame of a noble and generous ſpirit! Theſe are of higher worth than all the documents of learning, of dearer price than allthe advantages, which can be derived from the moſt refined and artificial mode of education.
Butſenſibility and delicacy, and an ingenuous temper, make no part of education, exclaims the pedagogue—they are reducible to no claſs—they come under no article of inſtruction—they belong neither to languages nor to muſic.—What an error! Theyarea part of education, and of infinitely more value,
Than all their pedant diſcipline e'er knew.
Than all their pedant diſcipline e'er knew.
It is true, they are ranged under no claſs, but they are ſuperior to all; they are of more eſteem than languages or muſic, for they are the language of the heart, and the muſic of the according paſſions. Yet this ſenſibility is, in many inſtances, ſo far from beingcultivated, that it is not uncommon to ſee thoſe who affect more than uſual ſagacity, caſt a ſmile of ſupercilious pity, at any indication of a warm, generous, or enthuſiaſtic temper in the lively and the young; as much as to ſay, "they will know better, and will have more diſcretion when they are older." But every appearance of amiable ſimplicity, or of honeſt ſhame,Nature's haſty conſcience, will be dear to ſenſible hearts; they will carefully cheriſh every ſuch indication in a young female; for they will perceive that it is this temper, wiſely cultivated, which will one day make her enamoured of the lovelineſs of virtue, and the beauty of holineſs: from which ſhe will acquire a taſte for the doctrines of religion, and a ſpirit to perform the duties of it. And thoſe who wiſh to make her aſhamed ofthis charming temper, and ſeek to diſpoſſeſs her of it, will, it is to be feared, give her nothing better in exchange. But whoever reflects at all, will eaſily diſcern how carefully this enthuſiaſm is to be directed, and how judiciouſly its redundances are to be lopped away.
Prudenceis not natural to children; they can, however, ſubſtitute art in its ſtead. But is it not much better that a girl ſhould diſcover the faults incident to her age, than conceal them under this dark and impenetrable veil? I could almoſt venture to aſſert, that there is ſomething more becoming in the very errors of nature, where they are undiſguiſed, than in the affectation of virtue itſelf, where the reality is wanting. And I am ſo far from being an admirer of prodigies,that I am extremely apt to ſuſpect them; and am always infinitely better pleaſed with Nature in her more common modes of operation. The preciſe and premature wiſdom, which ſome girls have cunning enough to aſſume, is of a more dangerous tendency than any of their natural failings can be, as it effectually covers thoſe ſecret bad diſpoſitions, which, if they diſplayed themſelves, might be rectified. The hypocriſy of aſſuming virtues which are not inherent in the heart, prevents the growth and diſcloſure of thoſe real ones, which it is the great end of education to cultivate.
Butif the natural indications of the temper are to be ſuppreſſed and ſtifled, where are the diagnoſtics, by which the ſtate of the mind is to be known? The wiſe Author of all things, whodid nothing in vain, doubtleſs intended them as ſymptoms, by which to judge of the diſeaſes of the heart; and it is impoſſible diſeaſes ſhould be cured before they are known. If the ſtream be ſo cut off as to prevent communication, or ſo choked up as to defeat diſcovery, how ſhall we ever reach the ſource, out of which are the iſſues of life?
Thiscunning, which, of all the different diſpoſitions girls diſcover, is moſt to be dreaded, is increaſed by nothing ſo much as by fear. If thoſe about them expreſs violent and unreaſonable anger at every trivial offence, it will always promote this temper, and will very frequently create it, where there was a natural tendency to frankneſs. The indiſcreet tranſports of rage, which many betray on everyſlight occaſion, and the little diſtinction they make between venial errors and premeditated crimes, naturally diſpoſe a child to conceal, what ſhe does not however care to ſuppreſs. Anger in one will not remedy the faults of another; for how can an inſtrument of ſin cure ſin? If a girl is kept in a ſtate of perpetual and ſlaviſh terror, ſhe will perhaps have artifice enough to conceal thoſe propenſities which ſhe knows are wrong, or thoſe actions which ſhe thinks are moſt obnoxious to puniſhment. But, nevertheleſs, ſhe will not ceaſe to indulge thoſe propenſities, and to commit thoſe actions, when ſhe can do it with impunity.
Gooddiſpoſitions, of themſelves, will go but a very little way, unleſs they are confirmed into goodprinciples. And this cannot be effected but by acareful courſe of religious inſtruction, and a patient and laborious cultivation of the moral temper.
But, notwithſtanding girls ſhould not be treated with unkindneſs, nor the firſt openings of the paſſions blighted by cold ſeverity; yet I am of opinion, that young females ſhould be accuſtomed very early in life to a certain degree of reſtraint. The natural caſt of character, and the moral diſtinctions between the ſexes, ſhould not be diſregarded, even in childhood. That bold, independent, enterpriſing ſpirit, which is ſo much admired in boys, ſhould not, when it happens to diſcover itſelf in the other ſex, be encouraged, but ſuppreſſed. Girls ſhould be taught to give up their opinions betimes, and not pertinaciouſly to carry on a diſpute, even if they ſhouldknow themſelves to be in the right. I do not mean, that they ſhould be robbed of the liberty of private judgment, but that they ſhould by no means be encouraged to contract a contentious or contradictory turn. It is of the greateſt importance to their future happineſs, that they ſhould acquire a ſubmiſſive temper, and a forbearing ſpirit: for it is a leſſon which the world will not fail to make them frequently practiſe, when they come abroad into it, and they will not practiſe it the worſe for having learnt it the ſooner. Theſe early reſtraints, in the limitation here meant, are ſo far from being an effect of cruelty, that they are the moſt indubitable marks of affection, and are the more meritorious, as they are ſevere trials of tenderneſs. But all the beneficial effects, which a mother can expect from this watchfulneſs, will be entirely defeated, if it is practiſed occaſionally, and not habitually, and if it ever appears to be uſed to gratify caprice, ill-humour, or reſentment.
Thosewho have children to educate ought to be extremely patient: it is indeed a labour of love. They ſhould reflect, that extraordinary talents are neither eſſential to the well-being of ſociety, nor to the happineſs of individuals. If that had been the caſe, the beneficent Father of the univerſe would not have made them ſo rare. For it is as eaſy for an Almighty Creator to produce a Newton, as an ordinary man; and he could have made thoſe powers common which we now conſider as wonderful, without any miraculous exertion of his omnipotence, if the exiſtence of many Newtons had been neceſſary to the perfection of his wiſe and gracious plan.
Surely, therefore, there is more piety, as well as more ſenſe, in labouring to improve the talents which children actually have, than in lamenting that they do not poſſeſs ſupernatural endowments or angelic perfections. A paſſage of Lord Bacon's furniſhes an admirable incitement for endeavouring to carry the amiable and chriſtian grace of charity to its fartheſt extent, inſtead of indulging an over-anxious care for more brilliant but leſs important acquiſitions. "The deſire of power in exceſs (ſays he) cauſed the angels to fall; the deſire of knowledge in exceſs cauſed man to fall; but in charity is no exceſs, neither can men nor angels come into danger by it."
A girlwho has docility will ſeldom be found to want underſtanding enough for all the purpoſes of a ſocial, a happy, and an uſeful life. And when we behold the tender hope of fond and anxious love, blaſted by diſappointment, the defect will as often be diſcovered to proceed from the neglect or the error of cultivation, as from the natural temper; and thoſe who lament the evil, will ſometimes be found to have occaſioned it.
Itis as injudicious for parents to ſet out with too ſanguine a dependence on the merit of their children, as it is for them to be diſcouraged at every repulſe. When their wiſhes are defeated in this or that particular inſtance, where they had treaſured up ſome darling expectation, this is ſo far from being a reaſon for relaxing theirattention, that it ought to be an additional motive for redoubling it. Thoſe who hope to do a great deal, muſt not expect to do every thing. If they know any thing of the malignity of ſin, the blindneſs of prejudice, or the corruption of the human heart, they will alſo know, that that heart will always remain, after the very beſt poſſible education, full of infirmity and imperfection. Extraordinary allowances, therefore, muſt be made for the weakneſs of nature in this its weakeſt ſtate. After much is done, much will remain to do, and much, very much, will ſtill be left undone. For this regulation of the paſſions and affections cannot be the work of education alone, without the concurrence of divine grace operating on the heart. Why then ſhould parents repine, if their efforts are not always crowned with immediate ſucceſs? They ſhould conſider, that they are not educating cherubims and ſeraphims, but men and women; creatures, who at their beſt eſtate are altogether vanity: how little then can be expected from them in the weakneſs and imbecillity of infancy! I have dwelt on this part of the ſubject the longer, becauſe I am certain that many, who have ſet out with a warm and active zeal, have cooled on the very firſt diſcouragement, and have afterwards almoſt totally remitted their vigilance, through a criminal kind of deſpair.
Greatallowances muſt be made for a profuſion of gaiety, loquacity, and even indiſcretion in children, that there may be animation enough left to ſupply an active and uſeful character, when the firſt fermentation of the youthful paſſions is over, and the redundant ſpirits ſhall come to ſubſide.
Ifit be true, as a conſummate judge of human nature has obſerved,
That not a vanity is given in vain,
That not a vanity is given in vain,
it is alſo true, that there is ſcarcely a ſingle paſſion, which may not be turned to ſome good account, if prudently rectified, and ſkilfully turned into the road of ſome neighbouring virtue. It cannot be violently bent, or unnaturally forced towards an object of a totally oppoſite nature, but may be gradually inclined towards a correſpondent but ſuperior affection. Anger, hatred, reſentment, and ambition, the moſt reſtleſs and turbulent paſſions which ſhake and diſtract the human ſoul, may be led to become the moſt active oppoſers of ſin, after havingbeen its moſt ſucceſſful inſtruments. Our anger, for inſtance, which can never be totally ſubdued, may be made to turn againſt ourſelves, for our weak and imperfect obedience—our hatred, againſt every ſpecies of vice—our ambition, which will not be diſcarded, may be ennobled: it will not change its name, but its object: it will deſpiſe what it lately valued, nor be contented to graſp at leſs than immortality.
Thusthe joys, fears, hopes, deſires, all the paſſions and affections, which ſeparate in various currents from the ſoul, will, if directed into their proper channels, after having fertiliſed wherever they have flowed, return again to ſwell and enrich the parent ſource.
Thatthe very paſſions which appear the moſt uncontroulable and unpromiſing, may be intended, in the great ſcheme of Providence, to anſwer ſome important purpoſe, is remarkably evidenced in the character and hiſtory of Saint Paul. A remark on this ſubject by an ingenious old Spaniſh writer, which I will here take the liberty to tranſlate, will better illuſtrate my meaning.
"Toconvert the bittereſt enemy into the moſt zealous advocate, is the work of God for the inſtruction of man. Plutarch has obſerved, that the medical ſcience would be brought to the utmoſt perfection, when poiſon ſhould be converted into phyſic. Thus, in the mortal diſeaſe of Judaiſm and idolatry,our bleſſed Lord converted the adder's venom of Saul the perſecutor, into that cement which made Paul the choſen veſſel. That manly activity, that reſtleſs ardor, that burning zeal for the law of his fathers, that ardent thirſt for the blood of Chriſtians, did the Son of God find neceſſary in the man who was one day to become the defender of his ſuffering people.[7]"
Towin the paſſions, therefore, over to the cauſe of virtue, anſwers a much nobler end than their extinction would poſſibly do, even if that could be effected. But it is their nature never to obſerve a neutrality; they are either rebels or auxiliaries, and an enemy ſubdued is an ally obtained.If I may be allowed to change the alluſion ſo ſoon, I would ſay, that the paſſions alſo reſemble fires, which are friendly and beneficial when under proper direction, but if ſuffered to blaze without reſtraint, they carry devaſtation along with them, and, if totally extinguiſhed, leave the benighted mind in a ſtate of cold and comfortleſs inanity.
Butin ſpeaking of the uſefulneſs of the paſſions, as inſtruments of virtue,envyandlyingmuſt always be excepted: theſe, I am perſuaded, muſt either go on in ſtill progreſſive miſchief, or elſe be radically cured, before any good can be expected from the heart which has been infected with them. For I never will believe that envy, though paſſed through all the moral ſtrainers, can be refined into avirtuous emulation, or lying improved into an agreeable turn for innocent invention. Almoſt all the other paſſions may be made to take an amiable hue; but theſe two muſt either be totally extirpated, or be always contented to preſerve their original deformity, and to wear their native black.