CHAP. I. Addreſs to women of rank and fortune, on the effects of their influence on ſociety.— Suggeſtions for the exertion of it in various inſtances.

AMONG the talents for the application of which women of the higher claſs will be peculiarly accountable, there is one, the importance of which they can ſcarcely rate too highly. This talent is influence. We read of the greateſt orator of antiquity, that the wiſeſt plans which it had coſt him years to frame, a woman could overturn in a ſingle day; and when one conſiders the variety of miſchiefs which an ill-directed [2]influence has been known to pro⯑duce, one is led to reflect with the moſt ſanguine hope on the beneficial effects to be expected from the ſame powerful force when exerted in its true direction.

The general ſtate of civilized ſociety depends more than thoſe are aware, who are not accuſtomed to ſcrutinize into the ſprings of human action, on the prevailing ſentiments and habits of women, and on the nature degree of the eſtimation in which they are held. Even thoſe who admit the power of female elegance on the manners of men, do not always attend to the influence of female principles on their character. In the former caſe, in⯑deed, women are apt to be ſufficiently conſcious of their power, and not back⯑ward in turning it to account. But there are nobler objects to be effected by the exertion of their powers; and unfortu⯑nately, ladies, who are often unreaſonably confident where they ought to be diffident, are ſometimes capriciouſly diffident juſt when they ought to feel where their [3]true importance lies; and, feeling, to exert it. To uſe their boaſted power over man⯑kind to no higher purpoſe than the gratifi⯑cation of vanity or the indulgence of pleaſure, is the degrading triumph of thoſe fair victims to luxury, caprice, and deſpotiſm, whom the laws and the re⯑ligion of the voluptuous prophet of Arabia exclude from light, and liberty, and know⯑ledge; and it is humbling to reflect, that in thoſe countries in which fondneſs for the mere perſons of women is carried to the higheſt exceſs, they are ſlaves; and that their moral and intellectual degradation increaſes in direct proportion to the adora⯑tion which is paid to mere external charms.

But I turn to the bright reverſe of this mortifying ſcene; to a country where our ſex enjoys the bleſſings of liberal in⯑ſtruction, of reaſonable laws, of a pure religion, and all the endearing pleaſures of an equal, ſocial, virtuous, and delightful intercourſe: I turn to them with a con⯑fident hope, that women, thus richly en⯑dowed with the bounties of Providence, [4]will not content themſelves with poliſhing, when they are able to reform; with enter⯑taining, when they may awaken; and with captivating for a day, when they may bring into action powers of which the effects may be commenſurate with eternity.

In this moment of alarm and peril, I would call on them with a "warning "voice," which ſhould ſtir up every latent principle in their minds, and kindle every ſlumbering energy in their hearts; I would call on them to come forward, and contribute their full and fair pro⯑portion towards the ſaving of their country. But I would call on them to come forward, without departing from the refinement of their character, without derogating from the dignity of their rank, without blemiſh⯑ing the delicacy of their ſex: I would call them to the beſt and moſt appropriate exertion of their power, to raiſe the de⯑preſſed tone of public morals, to awaken the drowſy ſpirit of religious principle, and to re-animate the dormant powers of active piety. They know too well how [5]imperiouſly they give the law to manners, and with how deſpotic a ſway they fix the ſtandard of faſhion. But this is not enough; this is a low mark, a prize not worthy of their high and holy calling. For, on the uſe which women of the ſuperior claſs may be diſpoſed to make of that power delegated to them by the courteſy of cuſtom, by the honeſt gallantry of the heart, by the imperious controul of virtuous affections, by the habits of civi⯑lized ſtates, by the uſages of poliſhed ſociety; on the uſe, I ſay, which they ſhall hereafter make of this influence, will depend, in no low degree, the well-being of thoſe ſtates, and the virtue and happineſs, nay perhaps the very exiſtence of that ſociety.

At this period, when our country can only hope to ſtand by oppoſing a bold and noble unanimity to the moſt tremendous con⯑federacies againſt religion and order, and go⯑vernments, which the world ever ſaw; what an acceſſion would it bring to the public [6]ſtrength, could we prevail on beauty, and rank, and talents, and virtue, confederating their ſeveral powers, to come forward with a patriotiſm at once firm and feminine for the general good! I am not ſounding an alarm to female warriors, or exciting female politicians: I hardly know which of the two is the moſt diſguſting and unnatural character. Propriety is to a woman what the great Roman critic ſays action is to an orator; it is the firſt, the ſecond, the third requiſite. A woman may be knowing, active, witty, and amu⯑ſing; but without propriety ſhe cannot be amiable. Propriety is the centre in which all the lines of duty and of agreeableneſs meet. It is to character what proportion is to figure, and grace to attitude. It does not depend on any one perſection; but it is the reſult of general excellence. It ſhows itſelf by a regular, orderly, undeviating courſe; and never ſtarts from its fober orbit into any ſplendid eccentricities; for it would be aſhamed of ſuch praiſe as [7]it might extort by any aberrations from its proper path. It renounces all com⯑mendation but what is characteriſtic; and I would make it the criterion of true taſte, right principle, and genuine feeling, in a woman, whether ſhe would be leſs touched with all the flattery of romantic and exaggerated panegyric, than with that beautiful picture of correct and elegant propriety, which Milton draws of our firſt mother, when he delineates

Even the influence of religion is to be exerciſed with diſcretion. A female Po⯑lemic wanders almoſt as far from the limits preſcribed to her ſex, as a female Machiavel or warlike Thaleſtris. Fierce⯑neſs and bigotry have made almoſt as few converts as the ſword, and both are pe⯑culiarly ungraceful in a female. Even religious violence has human tempers of its own to indulge, and is gratifying itſelf [8]when it would be thought to be "work⯑ing "the righteouſneſs of God." But the character of a conſiſtent Chriſtian is as carefully to be maintained, as that of a fiery diſputant is to be avoided; and ſhe who is afraid to avow her principles, or aſhamed to defend them, has little claim to that honourable title. A pro⯑fligate, who laughs at the moſt ſacred in⯑ſtitutions, and keeps out of the way of every thing which comes under the ap⯑pearance of formal inſtruction, may be diſ⯑concerted by the modeſt, but ſpirited re⯑buke of a delicate woman, whoſe life adorns the doctrines which her conver⯑ſation defends: but ſhe who adminiſters reproof with ill-breeding, defeats the effect of her remedy. On the other hand, there is a diſhoneſt way of labouring to con⯑ciliate the favour of a whole company, though of characters and principles irre⯑concilably oppoſite. The words may be ſo guarded as not to ſhock the believer, while the eye and voice may be ſo accom⯑modated, [9]modated, as not to diſcourage the infidel. She who, with a half earneſtneſs, trims between the truth and the faſhion; who, while ſhe thinks it creditable to defend the cauſe of religion, yet does it in a faint tone, a ſtudied ambiguity of phraſe, and a certain expreſſion in her countenance, which proves that ſhe is not diſpleaſed with what ſhe affects to cenſure; or that ſhe is afraid to loſe her reputation for wit, in proportion as ſhe advances her credit for piety, injures the cauſe more than he who attacked it; for ſhe proves, either that ſhe does not believe what ſhe profeſſes, or that ſhe does not reverence what fear compels her to believe. But this is not all: ſhe is called on, not barely to repreſs impiety, but to excite, to en⯑courage, and to cheriſh every tendency to ſerious religion.

Some of the occaſions which are daily preſenting themſelves to ladies, of con⯑tributing to the general good, are almoſt too minute to be pointed out. Yet of the [10]good which right-minded women, anxi⯑ouſly watching theſe minute occaſions, and adroitly ſeizing them, might accompliſh, we may form ſome idea by the ill effects which we actually ſee produced, by the mere leviry, careleſneſs, and inattention (to ſay no worſe) of ſome of thoſe ladies, who are looked up to as ſtandards in the faſhionable world.

I am perſuaded, if many a one, who is now diſſeminating unintended miſchief, under the dangerous notion that there is no harm in any thing ſhort of poſitive vice; and under the falſe colours of that indolent humility, "What good can I "do?" could be brought to ſee in its collected force the annual aggregate of the random evil ſhe is daily doing, by conſtantly throwing a little caſual weight into the wrong ſcale, by mere inconſiderate and unguarded chat, ſhe would ſtart from her ſelf complacent dream. If ſhe could conceive how much ſhe may be diminiſhing the good impreſ⯑ſions [11]of young men; and if ſhe could imagine how little amiable levity or irreli⯑gion make her appear in the eyes of thoſe who are older and abler, (however looſe their own principles may be,) ſhe would correct herſelf in the firſt inſtance, from pure good nature; and in the ſecond, from worldly prudence and mere ſelf-love. But on how much higher ground would ſhe reſtrain herſelf, if ſhe habitually took into account the important doctrine of con⯑ſequences; and if ſhe reflected that the leſſer but more habitual corruptions make up by their number, what they may ſeem to come ſhort of by their weight; then perhaps ſhe would find that among the higher claſs of women, inconſideration is adding more to the daily quantity of evil than almoſt all the more oſtenſible cauſes put together.

There is an inſtrument of inconceivable force, when it is employed againſt the intereſts of chriſtianity. It is not reaſoning, for that may be anſwered; it is not learn⯑ing, [12]for luckily the infidel is not ſeldom ignorant; it is not invective, for we leave ſo coarſe an engine to the hands of the vulgar; it is not evidence, for happily we have that all on our ſide. It is RIDICULE, the moſt deadly weapon in the whole arſenal of impiety, and which becomes an almoſt unerring ſhaft, when directed by a fair and faſhionable hand. No maxim has been more readily adopted, or is more intrinfically falſe, than that which the fafcinating eloquence of a noble ſceptic of the laſt age contrived to render ſo popular, that "ridicule is the teſt of truth." It is no teſt of truth itſelf; but of their firmneſs who aſſert the cauſe of truth, it is indeed a ſevere teſt. This light, keen, miſſile weapon, the irreſolute, unconfirmed Chriſt⯑ian, will find it harder to withſtand, than the whole heavy artillery of infidelity united.

A young man of the better ſort, juſt entered upon the world with a certain ſhare of good diſpoſitions and right feel⯑ings, [13]not ignorant of the evidences, nor 'deſtitute of the principles of Chriſtianity; without parting with his reſpect for re⯑ligion, he ſets out with the too natural wiſh of making himſelf a reputation, and of ſtanding well with the faſhionable part of the female world. He preſerves for a time a horror of vice, which makes it not difficult for him to reſiſt the groſſer cor⯑ruptions of ſociety; he can as yet repel profaneneſs; nay he can withſtand the banter of a club. He has ſenſe enough to ſee through the miſerable fallacies of the new philoſophy, and ſpirit enough to expoſe its malignity. So far he does well, and you are ready to congratulate him on his ſecurity. You are miſtaken: the principles of the ardent, and hitherto promiſing adventurer are ſhaken, juſt in that very ſociety, where, while he was looking for pleaſure, he doubted not of ſafety. In the ſociety of certain women of good faſhion and no ill fame, he makes ſhipwreck of his religion. He ſees them [14]treat with levity or deriſion ſubjects which he has been uſed to hear named with reſpect. He could confute an argument, he could unravel a ſophiſtry; but he cannot ſtand a laugh. A ſneer, not at the truth of religion, for that perhaps they do not diſbelieve, but at its gravity, its unſeaſonableneſs, its dulneſs, puts all his reſolution to ſlight. He feels his miſtake, and ſtruggles to recover his credit; in order to which, he adopts the gay affecta⯑tation of trying to ſeem worſe than he really is; he goes on to ſay things which he does not believe, and to deny things which he does believe; and all to efface the firſt impreſſion, and to recover a repu⯑tation which he has committed to their hands, on whoſe report he knows he ſhall ſtand or fall, in thoſe circles in which he is ambitious to ſhine.

That cold compound of irony, irreligion, ſelfiſhneſs, and ſneer, which make up what the French (from whom we borrow the thing as well as the word) ſo well [15]expreſs by the term perſiflage, has of late years made an increadible progreſs in blaſting the opening buds of piety in young perſons of faſhion. A cold plea⯑ſantry, a temporary cant word, the jargon of the day, for the "great vulgar" have their jargon, blight the firſt promiſe of ſeriouſneſs. The ladies of ton have cer⯑tain watch-words, which may be detected as indications of this ſpirit. The clergy are ſpoken of under the contemptuous ap⯑pellation of The Parſons. Some ludicrous aſſociation is infallibly combined with every idea of religion. If a warm-hearted youth has ventured to name with enthuſiaſm ſome eminently pious character, his glow⯑ing ardour is extinguiſhed with a laugh; and a drawling declaration that the perſon in queſtion is really a mighty harmleſs good creature, is uttered in a tone which leads the youth ſecretly to vow, that what⯑ever elſe he may be, he will never be a good harmleſs creature.

[16] Nor is ridicule more dangerous to true piety than to true taſte. An age which values itſelf on parody, bur⯑leſque, irony, and caricature, produces little that is ſublime, either in genius or in virtue; but they amuſe, and we live in an age which muſt be amuſed, though genius, feeling, truth, and principle, be the ſacri⯑fice. Nothing chills the ardours of devo⯑tion like a frigid ſarcaſm; and, in the ſeaſon of youth, the mind ſhould be kept particularly clear of all light aſſociations. This is of ſo much importance, that I have known perſons who, having been early accuſtomed to certain ludicrous com⯑binations, were never able to get their minds cleanſed from the impurities contracted by this habitual levity, even after a thorough reformation in their hearts and lives had taken place: their principles became reformed, but their ima⯑ginations were indelibly ſoiled. They could deſiſt from ſins which the ſtrictneſs [17]of Chriſtianity forbade them to commit, but they could not diſmiſs from their minds images, which her purity would not allow them to entertain.

There was a time when a variety of epithets were thought neceſſary to expreſs various kinds of excellence, and when the different qualities of the mind were diſ⯑tinguiſhed by appropriate and diſcrimi⯑nating terms; when the words venerable, learned, ſagacious, profound, acute, pious, ingenious, elegant, agreeable, wiſe or witty, were uſed as ſpecific marks of diſtinct characters. But the legiſlators of faſhion have of late years thought proper to compriſe all merit in one eſtabliſhed epithet, and it muſt be confeſſed to be a very deſirable one as far as it goes. This epithet is excluſively and indiſcri⯑minately applied wherever commendation is intended. The word pleaſant now ſerves to combine and expreſs all moral and intellectual excellence. Every individual, from the graveſt profeſſors of the graveſt [18]profeſſion, down to the trifler who is of no profeſſion at all, muſt earn the epithet of pleaſant, or muſt be contented to be nothing; but muſt be conſigned over to ridicule, under the vulgar and in⯑expreſſive cant word of a bore. This is the mortifying deſignation of many a reſpectable man, who, though of much worth and much ability, cannot perhaps clearly make out his letters patent to the title of pleaſant. But, according to this modem claſſiſication, there is no inter⯑mediate ſtate, but all are compriſed within the ample bounds of one or other of theſe two terms.

We ought to be more on our guard againſt this ſpirit of ridicule, becauſe, whatever may be the character of the preſent day, its faults do not ſpring from the redundancies of great qualities, or the overflowings of extravagant virtues. It is well if more correct views of life, a more regular adminiſtration of laws, and a more ſettled ſtate of ſociety, have [19]helped to reſtrain the exceſſes of the heroic ages; when love and war were conſidered as the great and ſole buſineſs of human life. Yet, if that period was marked by a romantic extravagance, and the preſent by an indolent ſelfiſhneſs, our ſuperiority is not ſo triumphantly deciſive, as, in the vanity of our hearts, we may be ready to imagine.

I do not wiſh to bring back the frantic reign of chivalry, nor to reinſtate women in that fantaſtic empire in which they then ſat enthroned in the hearts, or rather in the imaginations of men. Common ſenſe is an excellent material of univerſal application, which the ſagacity of latter ages has ſeized upon, and rationally applied to the buſineſs of common life. But let us not forget, in the inſolence of acknowledged ſuperiority, that it was religion and chaſtity, operating on the romantic ſpirit of thoſe times, which eſtab⯑liſhed the deſpotic ſway of woman; and though ſhe now no longer looks down [20]on her adoring votaries, from the pedeſtal to which an abſurd idolatry had liſted her, yet let her remember that it is the ſame religion and chaſtity which once raiſed her to ſuch an elevation, that muſt ſtill furniſh the nobleſt energies of her character.

While we lawfully ridicule the abſurd⯑ities which we have abandoned, let us not plume ourſelves on that ſpirit of novelty which glories in the oppoſite ex⯑treme. If the manners of the period in queſtion were affected, and if the gal⯑lantry was unnatural, yet the tone of virtue was high; and let us remember that conſtancy, purity, and honour, are not ridiculous in themſelves, though they may unluckily be aſſociated with qualities which are ſo: and women of delicacy would do well to reflect, when deſcanting on thoſe exploded manners, how far it be decorous to deride with too broad a laugh, attachments which could ſubſiſt on remote gratifications; or groſsly to ridicule the [21]taſte which led the admirer to ſacrifice pleaſure to reſpect, and inclination to honour; to ſneer at that purity which made ſelf-denial a proof of affection, and to call in queſtion the found underſtanding of him who preferred the fame of his miſtreſs to his own indulgence.

One cannot but be ſtruck with the wonderful contraſt exhibited to our view, when we contemplate the manners of the two periods in queſtion. In the former, all the flower of Europe ſmit with a delirious gallantry; all that was young and noble, and brave and great, with a fanatic frenzy and prepoſterous con⯑tempt of danger, traverſed ſeas, and ſcaled mountains, and compaſſed a large portion of the globe, at the expence of eaſe, and for⯑tune, and life, for the unprofitable project of reſcuing, by force of arms, from the hands of infidels, the ſepulchre of that Saviour, whom, in the other period, their poſterity would think it the height of fanaticiſm ſo much as to name in good company: [22]whoſe altars they deſert, whoſe temples they neglect; and though in more than one country at leaſt they ſtill call them⯑ſelves by his name, yet too many conſider it rather as a political than a religious diſtinction; too many, it is to be feared, contemn his precepts; ſtill more are aſhamed of his doctrines, and not a few reject his ſacrifice.

But in an age when inverſion is the order of the day, the modern idea of improvement does not conſiſt in altering, but extirpating. We do not reform, but ſubvert. We do not correct old ſyſtems, but demoliſh them, fancying that when every thing ſhall be new it will be perfect. Not to have been wrong, but to have been at all is the crime. Excellence is no longer conſidered as an experimental thing which is to grow gradually out of obſervation and practice, and to be improved by the accumulating additions brought by the wiſdom of ſucceſſive ages. Our wiſdom is not a child perfected by [23]gradual growth, but a goddeſs which ſtarts at once, full grown, mature, armed cap⯑a-pee, from the heads of our modern thun⯑derers. Or rather, if I may change the alluſion, a perfect ſyſtem is now expected inevitably to ſpring at once, like the fabled bird of Arabia, from the aſhes of its pa⯑rent, and can receive its birth no other way but by the deſtruction of its predeceſſor.

Inſtead of clearing away what is re⯑dundant, pruning what is cumberſome, ſupplying what is defective, and amending what is wrong, we adopt the indefinite rage for radical reform of Jack, who, in altering Lord Peter's ^* coat, ſhewed his zeal by crying out, ‘Tear away, brother Martin, for the love of heaven; never mind, ſo you do but tear away.’

This tearing ſyſtem has unqueſtionably rent away ſome valuable parts of that ſtrong, rich, native ſtuff which formed the antient texture of Britiſh manners. That we have gained much I am perſuaded; [24]that we have loſt nothing I dare not there⯑fore affirm. And though it fairly ex⯑hibits a mark of our improved judgment to ridicule the fantaſtic notions of love and honour in the heroic ages; let us not rejoice that that ſpirit of generoſity in ſen⯑timent, and of ardour in piety, the exuberancies of which were then ſo incon⯑venient, are now ſunk as unreaſonably low. That revolution of manners which the unparalleled wit and genius of Don Quixote ſo happily effected, by aboliſhing extravagancies the moſt abſurd and perni⯑cious, was ſo far imperfect, that the virtues which he never meant to expoſe, fell into diſrepute with the abſurdities which he did: and it is become the turn of the preſent taſte to attach in no ſmall degree that which is ridiculous to that which is heroic. Some modern works of wit have aſſiſted in bringing piety and ſome of the nobleſt virtues into contempt, by ſtudiouſly aſſociating them with oddity, childiſh ſim⯑plicity, and ignorance of the world: and unneceſſary pains have been taken to [25]extinguiſh that zeal and ardour, which, however liable to exceſs and error, are yet the ſpring of whatever is great and excellent in the human character. The novel of Cervantes is incomparable; the Tartuffe of Moliere is unequalled; but true generoſity and true religion will never loſe any thing of their intrinſic value, becauſe knight-errantry and hypocriſy are legitimate objects for ſatire.

But to return from this too long di⯑greſſion, to the ſubject of female influence. Thoſe who have not watched the united operation of vanity and feeling on a youth⯑ful mind, will not conceive how much leſs formidable the ridicule of all his own ſex will be to a very young man, than that of thoſe women to whom he has been taught to look up as the arbitreſſes of elegance. Such an one, I doubt not, might be able to work himſelf up, by the force of genuine chriſtian principle, to ſuch a pitch of true heroiſm, as to refuſe a challenge, (and it requires more real courage to refuſe a challenge than to [26]accept one,) who would yet be in danger of relapſing into the dreadful puſillanimity of the world, when he is told that no woman of faſhion will hereafter look on him but with contempt. While we have cleared away the rubbiſh of the Gothic ages, it were to be wiſhed we had not retained the moſt criminal of all their inſtitutions. Why chivalry ſhould indicate a madman, while its leading object, the ſingle combat, ſhould deſignate a gentleman, has not yet been explained. Nay the original motive is loſt, while the ſinful practice is con⯑tinued; for the fighter of the duel no longer pretends to be a glorious redreſſer of the wrongs of ſtrangers; no longer con⯑ſiders himſelf as piouſly appealing to hea⯑ven for the juſtice of his cauſe; but from the ſlaviſh fear of unmerited re⯑proach, often ſelfiſhly hazards the happi⯑neſs of his neareſt connections, and always comes forth in direct defiance of an acknowledged command of the Almighty. Perhaps there are few occaſions in which female influence might be exerted to a [27]higher purpoſe than in this, in which laws and conſcience have hitherto effected ſo little; but while the duelliſt (who per⯑haps becomes a duelliſt only becauſe he was firſt a ſeducer) is welcomed with ſmiles; the more hardy youth, who, not becauſe he fears man but God, declines a challenge; who is reſolved to brave diſgrace rather than commit ſin, would be treated with cool contempt by thoſe very perſons to whoſe eſteem he might reaſonably look, as one of the rewards of his true and ſubſtantial fortitude.

But how ſhall it be reconciled with the deciſions of principle, that delicate women ſhould receive with complacency the ſuc⯑ceſsful libertine, who has been detected by the wretched father or the injured huſband in a criminal commerce, the diſcovery of which has too juſtly baniſhed the unhappy partner of his crime from virtuous ſociety? Nay, if he happen to be very handſome, or very brave, or very faſhionable, is there not ſometimes a kind of diſhonourable [28]competition for his favour? But, whether his popularity be derived from birth, or parts, or perſon, or (what is often a ſub⯑ſtitute for all) from his having made his way into good company, women of diſtinction ſully the ſanctity of virtue by the too viſible pleaſure they ſometimes expreſs at the attentions of a popular liber⯑tine, whoſe voluble ſmall talk they admire, and whoſe ſprightly nothings they quote, and whom perhaps their very favour tends to prevent from becoming a better cha⯑racter, becauſe he finds himſelf more acceptable as he is.

May I be allowed to introduce a new part of my ſubject, by remarking that it is a matter of inconceivable importance, though not perhaps ſufficiently conſidered, when any popular work, not on a religious topic, but on any common ſubject, ſuch as politics, hiſtory, or ſcience, has happened to be written by an author of ſound Chriſtian prineiples? It may not have been neceſſary, nor prudently practicable, to have a ſingle [29]page in the whole work profeſſedly religious: but ſtill, when the living principle informs the mind of the writer, it is almoſt im⯑poſſible but that ſomething of its ſpirit will diffuſe itſelf even into ſubjects with which it ſhould ſeem but remotely connected. It is at leaſt a comfort to the reader, to feel that honeſt confidence which reſults from knowing that he has put himſelf into ſafe hands; that he has committed himſelf to an author, whoſe known principles are a pledge that his reader need not be driven to watch himſelf at every ſtep with anxious circumſpection; that he need not be looking on the right hand and on the left, as if he knew there were pitfalls under the flowers which are delighting him. And it is no ſmall point gained, that on ſubjects in which you do not look to improve your religion, it is at leaſt ſecured from deterioration. If the Athenian laws were ſo delicate that they diſgraced any one who ſhewed an inquiring traveller the wrong road, what diſgrace, among Chriſt⯑ians, [30]ians, ſhould attach to that author who, when a youth is inquiring the road to hiſtory or philoſophy, directs him to blaſphemy and unbelief?

In animadverting farther on the reign⯑ing evils which the times more particularly demand that women of rank and influence ſhould repreſs, Chriſtianity calls upon them to bear their decided teſtimony againſt every thing which is notoriouſly contri⯑buting to the public corruption. It calls upon them to baniſh from their dreſſing rooms, (and oh, that their influence could baniſh from the libraries of their ſons and huſbands!) that ſober and unſuſpected maſs of miſchief, which, by aſſuming the plauſible names of Science, of Philoſophy, of Arts, of Belles Lettres, is gradually ad⯑miniſtering death to the principles of thoſe who would be on their guard, had the poiſon been labelled with its own pernicious title. Avowed attacks upon revelation are more eaſily reſifted, becauſe the ma⯑lignity is advertiſed. But who ſuſpects [31]the deſtruction which lurks under the harm⯑leſs or inſtructive names of General Hiſtory, Natural Hiſtory, Travels, Voyages, Lives, Encyclopedias, Criticiſm, and Romance? Who will deny that many of theſe works contain much admirable matter; brilliant paſſages, important facts, juſt deſcriptions, faithful pictures of nature, and valuable illuſtrations of ſcience? But while "the "dead fly lies at the bottom," the whole will exhale a corrupt and peſtilential ſtench.

Novels, which uſed chiefly to be dan⯑gerous in one reſpect, are now become miſchievous in a thouſand. They are continually ſhifting their ground, and enlarging their ſphere, and are daily be⯑coming vehicles of wider miſchief. Some⯑times they concentrate their force, and are at once employed to diffuſe deſtructive politics, deplorable profligacy, and impu⯑dent infidelity. Rouſſeau was the firſt popular diſpenſer of this complicated drug, in which the deleterious infuſion was [30] [...] [31] [...] [32]ſtrong, and the effect proportionably fatal. For he does not attempt to ſeduce the affections but through the medium of the principles. He does not paint an innocent woman, ruined, repenting, and reſtored; but with a far more miſchievous refinement, he annihilates the value of chaſtity, and with pernicious ſubtlety at⯑tempts to make his heroine appear almoſt more amiable without it. He exhibits a virtuous woman, the victim not of tempta⯑tion but of reaſon, not of vice but of ſentiment, not of paſſion but of con⯑viction; and ſtrikes at the very root of honour by elevating a crime into a principle. With a metaphyſical ſophiſtry the moſt plauſible, he debauches the heart of woman, by cheriſhing her vanity in the erection of a ſyſtem of male virtues, to which, with a lofty dereliction of thoſe that are her more peculiar and cha⯑racteriſtic praiſe, he tempts her to aſpire; powerfully inſinuating, that to this ſplendid ſyſtem chaſtity does not neceſſarily belong: [33]thus corrupting the judgment and be⯑wildering the underſtanding, as the moſt effectual way to inflame the imagination and deprave the heart.

The rare miſchief of this author conſiſts in his power of ſeducing by falſehood thoſe who love truth, but whoſe minds are ſtill wavering, and whoſe principles are not yet formed. He allures the warm⯑hearted to embrace vice, not becauſe they prefer vice, but becauſe he gives to vice ſo natural an air of virtue: and ardent and enthuſiaſtic youth, too confidently truſting in their integrity and in their teacher, will be undone, while they fancy they are in⯑dulging in the nobleſt feelings of their nature. Many authors will more infallibly complete the ruin of the looſe and ill-diſpoſed; but perhaps (if I may change the figure) there never was a net of ſuch exquiſite art and inextricable workman⯑ſhip, ſpread to entangle innocence and enſnare inexperience, as the writings of Rouſſeau: and, unhappily, the victim does [34]not even ſtruggle in the toils, becauſe part of the deluſion conſiſts in imagining that he is ſet at liberty.

Some of our recent popular publica⯑tions have adopted all the miſchiefs of this ſchool, and the principal evil ariſing from them is, that the virtues they exhibit are almoſt more dangerous than the vices. The chief materials out of which theſe deluſive ſyſtems are framed, are characters who practiſe ſuperfluous acts of gene⯑roſity, while they are trampling on obvious and commanded duties; who combine ſentiments of honour with actions the moſt flagitious: a high-tone of ſelf-confidence, with a perpetual breach of ſelf-denial: pathetic apoſtrophes to the paſſions, but no attempt to reſiſt them. They teach that no duty exiſts which is not prompted by feeling: that impulſe is the main ſpring of virtuous actions, while laws and principles are only unjuſt reſtraints; the former impoſed by arbitrary men, the latter by the abſurd prejudices of timorous [35]and unenlightened conſcience. In ſome of the moſt ſplendid of theſe characters, compaſſion is erected into the throne of juſtice, and juſtice is degraded into the rank of plebeian virtues. Creditors are defrauded, while the money due to them is laviſhed in dazzling acts of charity to ſome object that affected their ſenſes; which fits of charity are made the ſponge of every ſin; and the ſubſtitute of every virtue: the whole indirectly tending to intimate how very benevolent people are who are not Chriſtians. From many of theſe compoſitions, indeed, Chriſtianity is ſyſtem⯑atically, and always virtually excluded; for the law and the prophets and the goſpel can make no part of a ſcheme in which this world is looked upon as all in all; in which poverty and miſery are con⯑ſidered as evils ariſing ſolely from human governments, and not from the diſpenſa⯑tions of God: this poverty is repreſented as the greateſt of evils, and the reſtraints which tend to keep the poor honeſt, as [36]the moſt flagrant injuſtice. The goſpel can have nothing to do with a ſyſtem in which ſin is reduced to a little human imperfection, and Old Bailey crimes are ſoftened down into a few engaging weak⯑neſſes; and in which the turpitude of all the vices a man himſelf commits, is done away by his candour in tolerating all the vices committed by others.

But the moſt fatal part of the ſyſtem to that claſs whom I am addreſſing is, that even in thoſe works which do not go all the lengths of treating marriage as an unjuſt infringement on liberty, and a tyrannical deduction from general happi⯑neſs; yet it commonly happens that the hero or heroine, who has practically violated the letter of the ſeventh com⯑mandment, and continues to live in the allowed violation of its ſpirit, is painted as ſo amiable and ſo benevolent, ſo tender or ſo brave; and the temptation is re⯑preſented as ſo irreſiſtible, (for all theſe philoſophers are fataliſts,) the predominant [37]and cheriſhed ſin is ſo filtered and purged of its pollutions, and is ſo ſheltered and ſurrounded, and relieved with ſhining qualities, that the innocent and impreſſible young reader is brought to loſe all horror of the awful crime in queſtion, in the complacency ſhe feels for the engaging virtues of the criminal.

But there is a new and ſtrong demand for the exertion of that power I am humbly endeavouring to direct to its true end. Thoſe ladies who take the lead in ſociety are loudly called upon to act as the guardians of public taſte as well as public virtue, in an important inſtance. They are called upon to oppoſe with the whole weight of their influence, the irruption of thoſe ſwarms of publications that are daily iſſuing from the banks of the Danube; which, like their ravaging pre⯑deceſſors of the darker ages, though with far other arms, are overrunning civilized ſociety. Thoſe readers, whoſe purer taſte has been formed on the correct models [38]of the old claſſic ſchool, ſee with indigna⯑tion and aſtoniſhment the Vandals once more overpowering the Greeks and Ro⯑mans. They behold our minds, with a retrograde but rapid motion, hurried back to the reign of "chaos and old night," by wild and mis-ſhapen ſuperſtitions; in which, with that conſiſtency which forms ſo ſtriking a feature of the new philoſophy, thoſe who deny the immortality of the ſoul are moſt eager to introduce the machinery of ghoſts; and by terriſic and unprin⯑cipled compoſitions, which unite the taſte of the Goths with the morals of Bagſhot ^*.

Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire!

The writings of the French infidels were ſome years ago circulated in England with uncommon induſtry, and with ſome effect: but the good ſenſe and good principles [39]of the far greater part of our countrymen reſiſted the attack, and roſe ſuperior to the trial. Of the doctrines and principles here alluded to, the dreadful conſequences, not only in the unhappy country where they originated and were almoſt univerſally adopted, but in every part of Europe where they have been received, have been ſuch as to ſerve as a beacon to ſurrounding nations, if any warning can preſerve them from deſtruction. In this country the ſubject is now ſo well underſtood, that every thing which iſſues from the French preſs is received with jealouſy; and a work, on the firſt appearance of its exhibiting the doctrines of Voltaire and his aſſociates, is rejected with indignation.

But let us not on account of this victory repoſe in confident ſecurity. The modern apoſtles of infidelity and im⯑morality, little leſs indefatigable in diſ⯑perſing their pernicious doctrines than the firſt apoſtles were in propagating goſpel truths, have only changed their weapons, [40]but they have by no means deſiſted from the attack. To deſtroy the principles of Chriſtianity in this iſland, appears at the preſent moment to be their grand aim. Deprived of the aſſiſtance of the French preſs, they are now attempting to attain their object under the cloſe and more artificial veil of German literature. Con⯑ſcious that religion and morals will ſtand or fall together, their attacks are ſome⯑times levelled againſt the one and ſome⯑times againſt the other. With occaſional ſtrong profeſſions of attachment to both of them, the feelings and the paſſions of the reader are engaged on the ſide of ſome one particular vice, or ſome one objection to revealed religion. Poetry as well as proſe, romance as well as hiſtory; writings on philoſophical as well as political ſubjects, have thus been employed to inſtil the principles of Illuminatiſm, while incredible pains have been taken to obtain able tranſla⯑tions of every book which it was ſup⯑poſed could be of uſe in corrupting the [41]heart, or miſleading the underſtanding. In many of theſe tranſlations, the ſtrongeſt paſſages, which, though well received in Germany, would have excited diſguſt in England, are wholly omitted, in order that the mind may be more certainly, though more ſlowly prepared for the full effect of the poiſon at another period.

Let not thoſe to whom theſe pages are addreſſed deceive themſelves, by ſup⯑poſing this to be a fable; but let them inquire moſt ſeriouſly whether I ſpeak the truth, when I aſſert that the attacks of infidelity in Great Britain are at this moment principally directed againſt the female breaſt. Conſcious of the influence of women in civil ſociety, conſcious of the effect which female infidelity produced in France, they attribute the ill ſucceſs of their attempts in this country to their having been hitherto chiefly addreſſed to the male ſex. They are now ſedulouſly labouring to deſtroy the religious prin⯑ciples [42]of women, and in too many inſtances they have fatally ſucceeded. For this purpoſe not only novels and romances have been made the vehicles of vice and infidelity, but the ſame allurement has been held out to the women of our country, which was employed by the original tempter to our firſt parent—Knowledge. Liſten to the precepts of the new German enlight⯑eners, and you need no longer remain in that ſituation in which Providence has placed you! Follow their examples, and you ſhall be permitted to indulge in all thoſe gratifications which cuſtom, not reli⯑gion, has too far overlooked in the male ſex!

We have hitherto ſpoken only of the German writings; but as there are multi⯑tudes who never read, equal pains have been taken to promote the ſame object through the medium of the ſtage: and this weapon is, of all others, that againſt which it is at the preſent moment the moſt important to warn my countrywomen. [43]As a ſpecimen of the German drama, it may not be unſeaſonable to offer a few remarks on the admired play of the Stranger. In this piece the character of an adultreſs, which, in all periods of the world, ancient as well modern, in all countries heathen as well as chriſtian, has hitherto been held in deteſtation, and has never been introduced but to be repro⯑bated, is for the firſt time preſented to our view in the moſt pleaſing and faſcinat⯑ing colours. The heroine is a woman who forſook a huſband, the moſt affection⯑ate and the moſt amiable, and lived for ſome time in the moſt criminal commerce with her ſeducer. Repenting at length of her crime, ſhe buries herſelf in retirement. The talents of the poet during the whole piece are exerted in attempting to render this woman the object, not only of the compaſſion and forgiveneſs, but of the eſteem and affection, of the audience. The injured huſband, convinced of his wife's repentance, forms a reſolution, which [44]every man of true feeling and chriſtian piety will probably approve. He forgives her offence, and promiſes her through life his advice, protection, and fortune, together with every thing which can alle⯑viate the miſery of her ſituation, but refuſes to replace her in the ſituation of his wife. But this is not ſufficient for the German author. His efforts are employed, and it is to be feared but too ſucceſsfully, in making the audience conſider the huſband as an unrelenting ſavage, while they are led by the art of the poet anxiouſly to wiſh to ſee an adultreſs reſtored to that rank of women who have not violated the moſt ſolemn covenant that can be made with man, nor diſobeyed one of the moſt poſitive laws which has been enjoined by God.

About the ſame time that this firſt attempt at repreſenting an adultreſs in an exemplary light was made by a German dramatiſt, which forms an aera in man⯑ners; a direct vindication of adultery was [45]for the firſt time attempted by a woman, a profeſſed admirer and imitator of the German ſuicide Werter. The Female Werter, as ſhe is ſtyled by her biographer, aſſerts in a work, intitled ‘The Wrongs of Woman,’ that adultery is juſtifiable, and that the reſtrictions placed on it by the laws of England conſtitute part of the wrongs of woman.

But let us take comfort. Theſe fervid pictures are not yet generally realiſed. Theſe atrocious principles are not yet adopted into common practice. Though corruptions ſeem to be pouring in upon us from every quarter, yet there is ſtill left among us a diſcriminating judgment. Clear and ſtrongly marked diſtinctions between right and wrong ſtill ſubſiſt. While we continue to cheriſh this ſanity of mind, the caſe is not deſperate. Though the crime above alluded to, the growth of which always exhibits the moſt irrefragable proof of the diſſoluteneſs of public man⯑ners; though this crime, which cuts up [46]order and virtue by the roots, and violates the ſanctity of vows, is awfully increaſing,

yet, thanks to the ſurviving efficacy of a holy religion, to the operations of virtuous laws, and the energy and unſhaken integrity with which theſe laws are now adminiſtered; and ſtill more perhaps to a ſtandard of morals which continues in force, when the principles which fanctioned it are no more; this crime, in the female ſex at leaſt, is ſtill held in juſt abhorrence; if it be practiſed, it is not honourable; if it be committed, it is not juſtified; we do not yet affect to palliate its turpitude; as yet it hides its abhorred head in lurking privacy; and reprobation hitherto follows its publicity.

But on YOUR exerting your influence, with juſt application and increaſing energy, it may in no ſmall degree depend whether this corruption ſhall ſtill continue to be [47]reſiſted. For, from admiring to adopt⯑ing, the ſtep is ſhort, and the progreſs rapid; and it is in the moral as in the na⯑tural world, the motion, in the caſe of minds as well as of bodies, is accelerated on a nearer approach to the centre to which they are tending.

O ye to whom this addreſs is par⯑ticularly directed! an awful charge is, in this inſtance, committed to your hands; as you ſhrink from it or diſcharge it, you promote or injure the honour of your daughters and the happineſs of your ſons, of both which you are the depoſitaries. And, while you reſolutely perſevere in making a ſtand againſt the encroachments of this crime, ſuffer not your firmneſs to be ſhaken by that affect⯑ation of charity, which is growing into a general ſubſtitute for principle. Abuſe not ſo noble a quality as Chriſtian can⯑dour, by miſemploying it in inſtances to which it does not apply. Pity the wretched woman you dare not coun⯑tenance; [48]and bleſs HIM who has ‘made you to differ.’ If unhappily ſhe be your relation or friend, anxiouſly watch for the period when ſhe ſhall be deſerted by her betrayer; and ſee if, by your Chriſtian offices, ſhe can be ſnatched from a perpetuity of vice. But if, through the Divine bleſſing on your patient endeavours, ſhe ſhould ever be awakened to remorſe, be not anxious to reſtore the forlorn penitent to that ſociety againſt whoſe laws ſhe has ſo grievouſly offended; and re⯑member, that her ſoliciting ſuch a reſtora⯑tion, furniſhes but too plain a proof that ſhe is not the penitent your partiality would believe; ſince penitence is more anxious to make its peace with heaven, than with the world. Joyfully would a truly contrite ſpirit commute an earthly for an everlaſt⯑ing reprobation! To reſtore a criminal to public ſociety, is perhaps to tempt her to repeat her crime, or to deaden her repent⯑ance for having committed it; while to reſtore a ſtrayed ſoul to God will add [49]luſtre to your Chriſtian character, and brighten your eternal crown.

In the mean time, there are other evils, ultimately perhaps tending to this, into which we are falling, through that ſort of faſhionable candour which, as was hinted above, is among the miſchievous cha⯑racteriſtics of the preſent day. Of which period perhaps it is not the ſmalleſt evil, that vices are made to look ſo like virtues, and are ſo aſſimilated with them, that it re⯑quires watchfulneſs and judgment to analyze them and to diſcriminate between them. There are certain women of good faſhion who practiſe irregularities not conſiſtent with the ſtrictneſs of virtue; while their good ſenſe and knowledge of the world make them at the ſame time keenly alive to the value of reputation. They want to retain their indulgences, without quite forfeiting their credit; but finding their fame faſt declining, they artfully cling, by flattery and marked attentions, to a few [50]perſons of more than ordinary character; and thus, till they are driven to let go their hold, continue to prop a falling fame.

On the other hand, there are not want⯑ing women of diſtinction, of very correct general conduct, and of no ordinary ſenſe and virtue, who, confiding with a high mind on what they too confidently call the integrity of their own hearts; anxious of deſerving a good fame on the one hand, by a life free from reproach, yet ſecretly too deſirous on the other of ſecuring a worldly and faſhionable reputation; while their general aſſociates are perſons of honour, and their general reſort places of ſafety; yet allow themſelves to be occa⯑ſionally preſent at the midnight orgies of revelry and gaming, in houſes of no honourable eſtimation; and thus help to keep up characters, which, without their ſuſtaining hand, would ſink to their juſt level of reprobation and contempt. While [51]they are holding out this plank to a drowning reputation, rather, it is to be feared, to ſhow their own ſtrength than to aſſiſt another's weakneſs, they value themſelves, perhaps, on not partaking of the worſt parts of the amuſements which may be carrying on; but they ſanction them by their preſence; they lend their countenance to corruptions they ſhould abhor, and their example to the young and inexperienced, who are looking about for ſome ſuch ſanction to juſtify them in what they were before inclined to do, but were too timid to have done without the protection of ſuch unſullied names. Thus theſe reſpectable characters, without looking to the general conſequences of their indiſcretion, are thoughtleſsly em⯑ployed in breaking down, as it were, the broad fence, which ſhould ever ſeparate two very different ſorts of ſociety, and are becoming a kind of unnatural link between vice and virtue.

[52] But the great object to which you who are, or may be mothers, are more eſpecially called, is the education of your children. If we are reſponſible for the uſe of influence in the caſe of thoſe over whom we have no definite right; in the caſe of our children we are reſponſible for the exerciſe of acknowledged power: a power wide in its extent, indefinite in its effects, and ineſtimable in its importance. On YOU, depend in no ſmall degree the prin⯑ciples of the whole riſing generation. To your direction the daughters are almoſt excluſively committed; and to a certain age, to you alſo is conſigned the mighty privilege of forming the hearts and minds of your infant ſons. By the bleſſing of God on the principles you ſhall, as far as it depends on you, infuſe into both ſons and daughters, they will hereafter ‘ariſe and call you bleſſed.’ And in the great day of general account may every Chriſtian mother be enabled through divine grace to ſay, with humble con⯑fidence [53]to her Maker and Redeemer, ‘Behold the children whom thou haſt given me!’

Chriſtianity, driven out from the reſt of the world, has ſtill, bleſſed be God! a "ſtrong hold" in this country. And though it be the ſpecial duty of the appointed "watchman, now that he ſeeth ‘the ſword come upon the land, to blow the trumpet and warn the people, which if he neglect to do, their blood ſhall be required of the watchman's hand ^*’: yet, in this ſacred gar⯑riſon, impregnable but by neglect, YOU too have an awful poſt, that of arming the minds of the riſing generation, ‘with the ſhield of faith, whereby they ſhall be able to quench the fiery darts of the wicked;’ that of girding them with ‘that ſword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.’ If you neglect [54]this your bounden duty, you will have done your utmoſt to expel Chriſtianity from her laſt citadel. And, remember, the dignity of the work to which you are called, is no leſs than that of pre⯑ſerving the ark of the Lord.

CHAP. II. On the education of women.—The prevailing ſyſtem tends to eſtabliſh the errors which it ought to correct.—Dangers ariſing from an exceſſive cultivation of the arts.

IT is far from being the object of this ſlight work to offer a regular plan of female education, a taſk which has been often more properly aſſumed by far abler writers; but it is intended rather to ſug⯑geſt a few remarks on the exiſting mode, which, though it has had many panegy⯑riſts, appears to be defective, not only in a few particulars, but as a general ſyſtem. There are indeed numberleſs honourable exceptions to an obſervation which will be thought ſevere; yet the author queſtions if it be not the natural and direct tendency of the prevailing and popular ſyſtem, to excite and promote thoſe very defects, [56]which it ought to be the main end and object of Chriſtian education to remove; whether, inſtead of directing this import⯑ant engine to attack and deſtroy vanity, ſelfiſhneſs, and inconſideration, that triple alliance in league againſt female virtue; the combined powers of inſtruction are not ſedulouſly confederated in confirming their ſtrength and eſtabliſhing their empire?

If indeed the material ſubſtance, if the body and limbs, with the organs and ſenſes, be really the more valuable objects of attention, then is there little room for animadverſion and improvement. But if the immaterial and immortal mind; if the heart, ‘out of which are the iſſues of life,’ be the main concern; if the great buſineſs of education be to implant ideas, to communicate knowledge, to form a correct taſte and a ſound judgment, to reſiſt evil propenſities, and, above all, to ſeize the favourable ſeaſon for infuſing principles and confirming habits; if edu⯑cation be a ſchool to fit us for life, and [57]life be a ſchool to fit us for eternity; if ſuch, I repeat it, be the chief work and grand ends of education, it may then be worth inquiring how far theſe ends are likely to be effected by the prevailing ſyſtem.

Is it not a fundamental error to conſider children as innocent beings, whoſe little weakneſſes may perhaps want ſome cor⯑rection, rather than as beings who bring into the world a corrupt nature and evil diſpoſitions, which it ſhould be the great end of education to rectify? This appears to be ſuch a foundation-truth, that if I were aſked what quality is moſt im⯑portant in an inſtructor of youth, I ſhould not heſitate to reply, ſuch a ſtrong im⯑preſſion of the corruption of our nature, as ſhould inſure a diſpoſition to counteract it; together with ſuch a deep view and thorough knowledge of the human heart, as ſhould be neceſſary for developing and controlling its moſt ſecret and complicated workings. And let us remember that to know the world, [58]as it is called, that is, to know its local manners, temporary uſages, and evaneſcent faſhions, is not to know human nature: and where this laſt mentioned know⯑ledge is wanting, thoſe natural evils which ought to be counteracted will be foſtered.

Vanity, for inſtance, is reckoned among the light and venial errors of youth; nay, ſo far from being treated as a dangerous enemy, it is often called in as an auxiliary. At worſt, it is conſidered as a harmleſs weakneſs, which ſubtracts little from the value of a character; as a natural effer⯑veſcence, which will ſubſide of itſelf, when the firſt ferment of the youthful paſſions ſhall have done working. But thoſe know little of the conformation of the human, and eſpecially of the female heart, who fancy that vanity is ever exhauſted, by the mere operation of time and events. Let thoſe who maintain this opinion look into our places of public reſort, and there be⯑hold if the ghoſt of departed beauty is not to its laſt flitting fond of haunting the [59]ſcenes of its paſt pleaſures; the ſoul, un⯑willing (if I may borrow an alluſion from the Platonic mythology) to quit the ſpot in which the body enjoyed its former delights, ſtill continues to hover about the ſame place, though the ſame pleaſures are no longer to be found there. Diſappoint⯑ments indeed may divert vanity into a new direction; prudence may prevent it from breaking out into exceſſes, and age may prove that it is "vexation of "ſpirit;" but neither diſappointment, prudence, nor age can cure it; for they do not correct the principle. Nay, the very diſappointment itſelf ſerves as a painful evidence of its exiſtence.

Since then there is a ſeaſon when the youthful muſt ceaſe to be young, and the beautiful to excite admiration; to grow old gracefully is perhaps one of the rareſt and moſt valuable arts which can be taught to woman. It is for this ſober ſeaſon of life that education ſhould lay up its rich reſources. However diſregarded they may [60]hitherto have been, they will be wanted now. When admirers fall away, and flatterers become mute, the mind will be driven to retire into itſelf, and if it find no entertainment at home, it will be driven back again upon the world with increaſed force. Yet forgetting this, do we not ſeem to educate our daughters, excluſively, for the tranſient period of youth, when it is to maturer life we ought to advert? Do we not educate them for a crowd, forgetting that they are to live at home? for the world, and not for themſelves? for ſhow, and not for uſe? for time, and not for eternity?

Vanity (and the ſame may be ſaid of ſelfiſhneſs) is not to be reſiſted like any other vice, which is ſometimes buſy and ſometimes quiet; it is not to be attacked as a ſingle fault, which is indulged in oppoſition to a ſingle virtue; but it is uniformly to be controlled, as an active, a reſtleſs, a growing principle, at conſtant war with all the Chriſtian graces; which [61]not only mixes itſelf with all our faults, but inſinuates itſelf into all our virtues too; and will, if not checked effectually, rob our beſt actions of their reward. Vanity, if I may uſe the analogy, is, with reſpect to the other vices, what feeling is in regard to the other ſenſes; it is not confined in its operation to the eye, or the ear, or any ſingle organ, but diffuſed through the whole being, alive in every part, awakened and communicated by the ſlighteſt touch.

Not a few of the evils of the preſent day ariſe from a new and perverted application of terms; among theſe perhaps, there is not one more abuſed, miſunderſtood, or miſapplied, than the term accompliſhments. This word in its original meaning, ſignifies completeneſs, perfection. But I may ſafely appeal to the obſervation of mankind, whether they do not meet with ſwarms of youthful females, iſſuing from our board⯑ing ſchools, as well as emerging from the more private ſcenes of domeſtic education, [62]who are introduced into the world, under the broad and univerſal title of accom⯑pliſhed young ladies, of all of whom it cannot very truly and correctly be pro⯑nounced, that they illuſtrate the definition by a completeneſs which leaves nothing to be added, and a perfection which leaves nothing to be deſired.

This phrenzy of accompliſhments, un⯑happily, is no longer reſtricted within the uſual limits of rank and fortune; the middle orders have caught the contagion, and it rages with increaſing violence, from the elegantly dreſſed but ſlenderly por⯑tioned curate's daughter, to the equally faſhionable daughter of the little tradeſman, and of the more opulent, but not more judicious farmer. And is it not obvious, that as far as this epidemical mania has ſpread, this very valuable part of fociety declines in uſefulneſs, as it riſes in its unlucky pretenſions to elegance? And this revolution of the manners of the middle claſs has ſo far altered the cha⯑racter [63]of the age, as to be in danger of rendering obſolete the heretofore common ſaying, ‘that moſt worth and virtue are to be found in the middle ſtation.’ For I do not ſcruple to aſſert, that in general, as far as my little obſervation has extended, this claſs of females, in what relates both to religious knowledge and to practical induſtry, falls ſhort both of the very high and the very low. Their new courſe of education, and the habits of life, and elegance of dreſs connected with it, peculiarly unfits them for the active duties of their own very important condition; while, with frivolous eagerneſs and ſecond⯑hand opportunities, they run to ſnatch a few of thoſe ſhowy acquirements which decorate the great. This is done appa⯑rently with one or other of theſe views; either to make their fortune by marriage, or if that fail, to qualify them to become teachers of others: hence the abundant multiplication of ſuperſicial wives, and of incompetent and illiterate governeſſes. [64]The uſe of the pencil, the performance of exquiſite but unneceſſary works, the ſtudy of foreign languages and of muſic, require (with ſome exceptions, which ſhould always be made in favour of great natural genius) a degree of leiſure which belongs excluſively to affluence ^* One uſe of learning languages is, not that we may know what the terms which expreſs the articles of our dreſs and our table are called in French or Italian; not that we may think over a few ordinary phraſes in Engliſh, and then tranſlate them, with⯑out one foreign idiom; for he who cannot think in a language cannot be ſaid to un⯑derſtand it: but the great uſe of acquiring any foreign language is, either that it enables us occaſionally to converſe with foreigners unacquainted with any other, [65]or that it is a key to the literature of the country to which it belongs; and thoſe humbler females, the chief part of whoſe time is required for domeſtic offices, are little likely to fall in the way of foreigners; and ſo far from enjoying opportunities for the acquiſition of foreign literature, have ſeldom time to poſſeſs themſelves of all that valuable knowledge, which the books of their own country ſo abundantly fur⯑niſh; and the acquiſition of which would be ſo much more uſeful and honourable than the paltry acceſſions they make, by hammering out the meaning of a few paſſages in a tongue they but imperfectly underſtand, and of which they are likely to make no uſe.

It would be well if the reflection how eagerly this redundancy of accompliſh⯑ments is ſeized on by their inferiors, were to operate as in the caſe of other abſurd faſhions, which the great can feldom be brought to renounce from any [66]other conſideration than that they are adopted by the vulgar.

But, to return to that more elevated, and, on account of their more extended influence only, that more important claſs of females, to whoſe uſe this little work is more immediately dedicated. Some popular authors, on the ſubject of female inſtruction, had for a time eſtabliſhed a fantaſtic code of artificial manners. They had refined elegance into inſipidity, frittered down delicacy into frivolouſneſs, and reduced manner into minauderie. But ‘to liſp and to amble and to nick-name God's creatures,’ has nothing to do with true gentleneſs of mind; and to be ſilly makes no neceſſary part of ſoftneſs. Another claſs of cotemporary authors turned all the force of their talents to excite emotions, to inſpire ſentiment, and to reduce all moral excellence into ſympathy and feeling. Theſe ſofter qualities were elevated at the expence of principle; and young women were inceſſantly hearing [67]unqualified ſenſibility extolled as the per⯑fection of their nature; till thoſe who really poſſeſſed this amiable quality, inſtead of directing, and chaſtiſing, and reſtraining it, were in danger of foſtering it to their hurt, and began to conſider themſelves as deriving their excellence from its exceſs; while thoſe leſs intereſting damſels, who happened not to find any of this amiable ſenſibility in their hearts, but thought it creditable to have it ſomewhere, fancied its ſeat was in the nerves; and here indeed it was eaſily found or feigned; till a falſe and exceſſive diſplay of feeling became ſo predominant, as to bring in queſtion the actual exiſtence of that true tenderneſs, without which, though a woman may be worthy, ſhe can never be amiable.

Faſhion then, by one of her ſudden and rapid turns, inſtantaneouſly ſtruck out ſenſibility and affectation from the ſtanding liſt of female perfections; and, by a quick touch of her magic wand, [68]ſhifted the ſcene, and at once produced the bold and independent beauty, the intrepid female, the hoyden, the huntreſs, and the archer; the ſwinging arms, the confident addreſs, the regimental, and the four-in-hand. Theſe ſelf-complacent heroines made us ready to regret their ſofter predeceſſors, who had aimed only at pleaſing the other ſex, while theſe aſpiring fair ones ſtruggled for the bolder renown of rivalling them. The project failed; for, whereas the former had ſued for admiration, the latter challenged, ſeized, compelled it; but the men, as was natural, continued to prefer the more modeſt claimant to the ſturdy competitor.

It were well if we, who have the advan⯑tage of contemplating the errors of the two extremes, were to look for truth where ſhe is commonly to be found, in the plain and obvious middle path, equally remote from each exceſs; and, while we bear in mind that helpleſſneſs is not delicacy, let us alſo remember that maſculine manners [69]do not neceſſarily include ſtrength of character nor vigour of intellect. Should we not reflect alſo, that we are neither to train up Amazons nor Circaſſians, but to form Chriſtians? that we have to educate not only rational but accountable beings? and, remembering this, ſhould we not be ſolicitous to let our daughters learn of the well-taught, and aſſociate with the well-bred? In training them, ſhould we not carefully cultivate intellect, implant religion, and cheriſh modeſty? then, whatever is delicate in manners, would be the natural reſult of whatever is juſt in ſentiment, and correct in principle: then, the decorums, the proprieties, theele⯑gancies, and even the graces, as far as they are ſimple, pure, and honeſt, would follow as an almoſt inevitable conſequence; for to follow in the train of the Chriſtian virtues, and not to take the lead of them, is the proper place which religion aſſigns to the graces.

[70] Whether we have made the beſt uſe of the errors of our predeceſſors, and of our own numberleſs advantages, and whether the prevailing ſyſtem be really conſiſtent with ſound policy or with Chriſtian prin⯑ciple, it may be worth our while to inquire.

Would not a ſtranger be led to imagine by a view of the reigning mode of female education, that human life conſiſted of one univerſal holiday, and that the grand con⯑teſt between the ſeveral competitors was, who ſhould be moſt eminently qualified to excel, and carry off the prize, in the various ſhows and games which were intended to be exhibited in it? And to the exhibitors themſelves, would he not be ready to apply Sir Francis Bacon's obſervation on the Olympian victors, that they were ſo excellent in theſe unneceſſary things, that their perfection muſt needs have been acquired by the neglect of whatever was neceſſary?

[71] What would the poliſhed Addiſon, who thought that one great end of a lady's learning to dance was, that ſhe might know how to ſit ſtill gracefully; what would even the Pagan hiſtorian ^* of the great Roman conſpirator, who could commemorate it among the defects of his hero's accompliſhed miſtreſs, ‘that ſhe was too good a ſinger and dancer for a virtuous woman;’ what would theſe refined critics have ſaid, had they lived as we have done, to ſee the art of dancing lifted into ſuch importance, that it cannot with any degree of ſafety be confided to one inſtructor, but a whole train of ſucceſſive maſters are conſidered as abſo⯑lutely eſſential to its perfection? What would theſe accurate judges of female manners have ſaid, to ſee a modeſt young lady firſt delivered into the hands of a military ſergeant to inſtruct her in the feminine art of marching? and when this [72]delicate acquiſition is attained, to ſee her transferred to a profeſſor who is to teach her the Scotch ſteps; which profeſſor, having communicated his indiſpenſable por⯑tion of this indiſpenſable art, makes way for the profeſſor of French dances; and all perhaps in their turn, either yield to, or have the honour to co-operate with a finiſhing maſter; each probably receiv⯑ing a ſtipend which would make the pious curate or the learned chaplain rich and happy?

The ſcience of muſic, which uſed to be communicated in ſo competent a de⯑gree by one able inſtructor, is now diſtributed among a whole band. A young lady now requires, not a maſter, but an orcheſtra. And my country readers would accuſe me of exaggeration were I to hazard enumerating the variety of muſical teachers who attend in the ſame family; the daugh⯑ters of which are ſummoned, by at leaſt as many inſtruments as the ſubjects of Nebu⯑chadnezzar, to worſhip the idol which [73]faſhion has ſet up. They would be in⯑credulous were I to produce real inſtances, in which the delighted mother has been heard to declare, that the viſits of maſters of every art, and the maſters for various gradations of the ſame art, followed each other in ſuch cloſe and rapid ſucceſſion during the whole London reſidence, that her girls had not a moment's interval to look into a book; nor could ſhe contrive any method to introduce one, till ſhe happily deviſed the ſcheme of reading to them herſelf for half an hour while they were drawing, by which means no time was loſt.

Before the evil is paſt redreſs, it will be prudent to reflect that in all poliſhed countries an entire devotedneſs to the fine arts has been one grand ſource of the cor⯑ruption of the women; and ſo juſtly were theſe pernicious conſequences appreciated by the Greeks, among whom theſe arts were carried to the higheſt poſſible per⯑fection, that they ſeldom allowed them to [74]be cultivated to a very exquiſite degree by women of great purity of character. And if the ambition of an elegant Britiſh lady ſhould be fired by the idea that the accom⯑pliſhed females of thoſe poliſhed ſtates were the admired companions of the philo⯑ſophers, the poets, the wits, and the artiſts of Athens; and their beauty or talents the favourite ſubjects of the muſe, the lyre, the pencil, and the chiſſel; ſo that their pictures and ſtatues furniſhed the moſt conſummate models of Grecian art: if, I ſay, the accompliſhed females of our days are panting for ſimilar renown, let their modeſty chaſtiſe their ambition, by re⯑collecting that theſe celebrated women are not to be found among the chaſte wives and the virtuous daughters of the Ariſtides's, the Agis's, and the Phocions; but that they are to be looked for among the Phrynes, the Lais's, the Aſpaſias, and the Glyceras. I am perſuaded the Chriſt⯑ian female, whatever be her talents, will renounce the deſire of any celebrity when [75]attached to impurity of character, with the ſame noble indignation with which the virtuous biographer of the above-named heroes renounced all diſhoneſt fame, by exclaiming, ‘I had rather it ſhould be ſaid there never was a Plutarch, than that they ſhould ſay Plutarch was ma⯑lignant, unjuſt, or envious ^*’

And while this corruption, brought on by an exceſſive cultivation of the arts, has contributed its full ſhare to the decline of ſtates, it has always furniſhed an in⯑fallible ſymptom of their impending fall. The ſatires of the moſt penetrating and judicious of the Roman poets, corroborat⯑ing the teſtimonies of the moſt accurate of their hiſtorians, abound with invectives againſt the depravity of manners intro⯑duced by the corrupt habits of female education. The bitterneſs and groſs in⯑delicacy [76]of ſome of theſe ſatiriſts (too groſs to be either quoted or referred to) make little againſt their authority in theſe points; for how ſhocking muſt thoſe cor⯑ruptions have been, and how obviouſly offenſive their cauſes, which could have appeared ſo highly diſguſting to minds not likely to be ſcandalized by ſlight de⯑viations from decency! The famous ode of Horace, attributing the vices and diſaſters of his country to the ſame cauſe, might, were it quite free from the above ob⯑jections, be produced, I will not preſume to ſay as an exact picture of the exiſting manners of this country; but may I not venture to ſay, as a prophecy, the ful⯑filment of which cannot be very remote? It may however be obſerved, that the modeſty of the Roman matron, and the chaſte demeanor of her virgin daughters, which amidſt the ſtern virtues of the ſtate were as immaculate and pure as the honour of the Roman citizen, fell a ſacri⯑fice to the luxurious diſſipation brought in [77]by their Aſiatic conqueſts; after which the females were ſoon taught a com⯑plete change of character. They were inſtructed to accommodate their talents of pleaſing to the more vitiated taſtes of the other ſex; and began to ſtudy every grace and every art which might captivate the exhauſted hearts, and excite the wearied and capricious inclinations of the men: till by a rapid and at length com⯑plete enervation, the Roman character loſt its ſignature, and through a quick ſuc⯑ceſſion of ſlavery, effeminancy, and vice, ſunk into that degeneracy of which ſome of the modern Italian ſtates ſerve to furniſh a too juſt ſpecimen.

It is of the eſſence of human things that the ſame objects which are highly uſeful in their ſeaſon, meaſure, and de⯑gree, become miſchievous in their exceſs, at other periods, and under other cir⯑cumſtances. In a ſtate of barbariſm, the arts are among the beſt reformers; and they go on to be improved themſelves, [78]and improving thoſe who cultivate them, till, having reached a certain point, thoſe very arts which were the inſtruments of civilization and refinement, become inſtru⯑ments of corruption and decay; enervat⯑ing and depraving in the ſecond inſtance as certainly as they refined in the firſt. They become agents of voluptuouſneſs. They excite the imagination; and the imagin⯑ation thus excited, and no longer under the government of ſtrict principle, be⯑comes the moſt dangerous ſtimulant of the paſſions; promotes a too keen reliſh for pleaſure, teaching how to multiply its ſources, and inventing new and pernicious modes of artificial gratification.

May the author be allowed to addreſs to our own country and our own cir⯑cumſtances, to both of which they ſeem peculiarly applicable, the ſpirit of that beau⯑tiful apoſtrophe of the moſt poliſhed poet of antiquity to the moſt victorious nation? ‘Let us leave to the inhabitants of con⯑quered countries the praiſe of carrying to [79]the very higheſt degree of perfection, ſculpture and the ſiſter arts; but let this country direct her own exertions to the art of governing mankind in equity and peace, of ſhewing mercy to the ſub⯑miſſive, and of abaſing the proud among ſurrounding nations.’

CHAP. III. External improvement.—Children's balls.— French governeſſes.

LET me not however be miſunderſtood. The cuſtoms which faſhion has eſtabliſhed, when not in direct oppoſition to what is right, ſhould unqueſtionably be purſued in the education of ladies. Piety main⯑tains no natural war with elegance, and Chriſtianity would be no gainer by making her diſciples unamiable. Religion does not forbid that the exterior be made to a certain degree the object of attention. But the admiration beſtowed, the ſums expended, and the time laviſhed on arts which add little to the intrinſic value of life, ſhould have limitations. While theſe arts ſhould be admired, let them not be admired above their juſt [81]value: while they are practiſed, let it not be to the excluſion of higher employ⯑ments: while they are cultivated, let it be to amuſe leiſure, but not to engroſs life.

But it happens unfortunately, that to ordinary obſervers, the girl who is really receiving the worſt education often makes the beſt figure. The outward accompliſh⯑ments have the dangerous advantage of addreſſing themſelves more immediately to the ſenſes, and of courſe, meet every where with thoſe who can in ſome mea⯑ſure appreciate as well as admire them; for all can ſee and hear, but all cannot ſcrutinize and diſcriminate. External ac⯑quirements too recommend themſelves the more, becauſe they are more rapidly as well as more viſibly progreſſive. While the mind is led on to improvement by ſlow motions and imperceptible degrees; while the heart muſt now be admoniſhed by reproof, and now allured by kindneſs; its livelieſt advances being ſuddenly im⯑peded by obſtinacy, and its brighteſt [82]proſpects often obſcured by paſſion; it is ſlow in its acquiſitions of virtue, and reluctant in its approaches to piety. The unruly and turbulent propenſities of the mind are not ſo obedient to the form⯑ing hand as defects of manner or awkward⯑neſs of gait. Often when we fancy that a troubleſome paſſion is completely cruſhed, we have the mortification to find that we have "ſcotch'd the ſnake, not killed "it." One evil temper ſtarts up before another is conquered. The ſubduing hand cannot cut off the ever-ſprouting heads ſo faſt as the prolific Hydra can re-produce them, nor fell the ſtubborn Antaeus ſo often as he can recruit his ſtrength, and riſe in vigorous and repeated oppo⯑ſition.

Hired teachers are alſo under a diſad⯑vantage reſembling tenants at rack-rent; it is their intereſt to bring in an immediate revenue of praiſe and profit, and, for the ſake of preſent rich crop, thoſe who are not ſtrictly conſcientious, do not care [83]how much the ground is impoveriſhed for future produce. But parents, who are the lords of the ſoil, muſt look to permanent value, and to continued fruitfulneſs. The beſt effects of a careful education are often very remote; they are to be diſcovered in future ſcenes, and exhibited in as yet untried connections. Every event of life will be putting the heart into freſh ſitu⯑ations, and making new demands on its prudence, its firmneſs, its integrity, or its forbearance. Thoſe whoſe buſineſs it is to form and model it, cannot foreſee thoſe contingent ſituations ſpecifically and diſtinctly; yet, as far as human wiſdom will allow, they muſt enable it to prepare for them all by general principles, correct habits, and an unremitted ſenſe of depend⯑ence on the Great Diſpoſer of events. The young Chriſtian militant muſt learn and practiſe all his evolutions; though he does not know on what ſervice his leader may command him, by what particular [84]foe he ſhall be moſt aſſailed, nor what mode of attack the enemy may employ.

But the contrary of all this is the caſe with external acquiſitions. The maſ⯑ter, it is his intereſt, will induſtriouſly inſtruct his young pupil, to ſet all her improvements in the moſt immediate and conſpicuous point of view. To allure and to ſhine is the great principle ſedulouſly inculcated into her young heart; and is conſidered as the fundamental maxim; and, perhaps, if we were required to condenſe the reigning ſyſtem of the brilliant education of a lady into an aphoriſm, it might be com⯑priſed in this ſhort ſentence, To make the moſt of herſelf. This ſyſtem however is the fruit⯑ful germ, from which a thouſand yet unborn vanities, with all their multiplied ramifications will ſpring. A tender mother cannot but feel an honeſt triumph in com⯑pleting thoſe talents in her daughter which will neceſſarily excite admiration; but ſhe will alſo ſhudder at the vanity [85]that admiration may excite," and at the new ideas it will awaken; and, ſtartling as it may ſound, the labours of a wiſe mother anxious for her daughter's beſt intereſts, will ſeem to be at variance with thoſe of all her teachers. She will indeed re⯑joice at her progreſs, but ſhe will rejoice with trembling; for ſhe is fully aware that if all poſſible accompliſhments could be bought at the price of a ſingle virtue, of a ſingle principle, the purchaſe would be infinitely dear, and ſhe would reject the dazzling but deſtructive acquiſition. She knows that the ſuperſtructure of the ac⯑compliſhments can be alone ſafely erected on the broad and ſolid baſis of Chriſtian humility: nay more, that as the materials of which that ſuperſtructure is to be com⯑poſed, are in themſelves of ſo unſtable and tottering a nature, the foundation muſt be deepened, and enlarged with more abund⯑ant care, otherwiſe the fabric will be overloaded with its own ornaments, and [86]what was intended only to embelliſh the building, will prove the occaſion of its fall.

‘To every thing there is a ſeaſon, and a time for every purpoſe under heaven,’ ſaid the wiſe man; but he ſaid it before the invention of baby-balls. This modern device is a ſort of triple conſpiracy againſt the innocence, the health, and the happi⯑neſs of children; thus, by factitious amuſe⯑ments, to rob them of a reliſh for the ſimple joys, the unbought delights, which naturally belong to their blooming ſeaſon, is like blotting out ſpring from the year. To ſacrifice the true and proper enjoy⯑ments of ſprightly and happy children, is to make them pay a dear and diſpro⯑portionate price for their artificial pleaſures. They ſtep at once from the nurſery to the ball-room; and, by a prepoſterous change of habits, are thinking of dreſſing themſelves, at an age when they uſed to be dreſſing their dolls. Inſtead of bounding with the unreſtrained freedom of little [87]wood-nymphs over hill and dale, their cheeks fluſhed with health, and their hearts overflowing with happineſs, theſe gay little creatures are ſhut up all the morning, de⯑murely practiſing the pas grave, and tranſ⯑acting the ſerious buſineſs of acquiring a new ſtep for the evening, with more coſt of time and pains than it would have taken them to acquire twenty new ideas.

Thus they loſe the amuſements which naturally belong to their ſmiling period, and unnaturally anticipate thoſe pleaſures (ſuch as they are) which would come in, too much of courſe, on their introduction into faſhionable life. The true pleaſures of childhood are cheap and natural; for every object teems with delight to eyes and hearts new to the enjoyment of life; nay, the hearts of healthy children abound with a general diſpoſition to mirth and joy⯑fulneſs, even without a ſpecific object to excite it; like our firſt parent, in the [88]world's firſt ſpring, when all was new, and freſh, and gay about him,

Only furniſh them with a few ſimple and harmleſs materials, and a little, but not too much, leiſure, and they will manu⯑facture their own pleaſures with more ſkill, and ſucceſs, and ſatisfaction, than they will receive from all that your money can purchaſe. Their bodily recreations ſhould be ſuch as will promote their health, quicken their activity, enliven their ſpirits, whet their ingenuity, and qualify them for their mental work. But, if you begin thus early to create wants, to invent grati⯑fications, to multiply deſires, to waken dormant ſenſibilities, to ſtir up hidden fires, you are ſtudiouſly laying up for your children a ſtore of premature caprice and irritability, and diſcontent.

While childhood preſerves its native ſimplicity, every little change is intereſting, [89]every gratification is a luxury; a ride or a walk will be a delightful amuſement to a child in her natural ſtate; but it will be dull and taſteleſs to a ſophiſticated little creature, nurſed in theſe forced and coſtly and vapid pleaſures. Alas! that we ſhould throw away this firſt grand opportunity of working into a practical habit the moral of this important truth, that the chief ſource of human diſcontent is to be looked for, not in our real but in our factitious wants; not in the demands of nature, but in the artificial cravings of deſire!

When one ſees the growing zeal to crowd the midnight ball with theſe pretty fairies, one would be almoſt tempted to fancy it was a kind of pious emulation among the mothers to cure their infants of a fondneſs for vain and fooliſh pleaſures, by tiring them out by this premature familiarity with them; and that they were actuated by ſomething of the ſame prin⯑ciple, which led the Spartans to introduce their ſons to ſcenes of riot, that they might [90]conceive an early diſguſt at vice! or poſſibly, that they imitated thoſe Scythian mothers who uſed to plunge their new born infants into the flood, thinking none to be worth ſaving who could not ſtand this early ſtruggle for their lives: the greater part indeed, as it might have been expected, periſhed; but the parents took comfort, that if many were loſt, the few who eſcaped would be the ſtronger for having been thus expoſed.

To behold lilliputian coquettes, project⯑ing dreſſes, ſtudying colours, aſſorting ribbands and feathers, their little hearts beating with hopes about partners and fears about rivals; and to ſee their freſh cheeks pale after the midnight ſupper, their aching heads and unbraced nerves, diſqualifying the little languid beings for the next day's taſk, and to hear the grave apology, ‘that it is owing to the wine, the crowd, the heated room of the laſt night's ball;’ all this, I ſay, would really be as ludicrous, if the miſchief of [91]the thing did not take off from the merri⯑ment of it, as any of the ridiculous and prepoſterous diſproportions in the divert⯑ing travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver.

Under a juſt impreſſion of the evils which we are ſuſtaining from the prin⯑ciples and the practices of modern France, we are apt to loſe ſight of thoſe deep and laſting miſchiefs which ſo long, ſo regularly, and ſo ſyſtematically, we have been importing from the ſame country, though in another form and under another government. In one reſpect, in⯑deed, the firſt were the more formidable, becauſe we embraced the ruin without ſuſ⯑pecting it; while we defeat the malignity of the latter, by detecting the turpitude and defending ourſelves againſt it. This is not the place to deſcant on that levity of manners, that contempt of the Sabbath, that fatal familiarity with looſe principles, and thoſe relaxed notions of conjugal fidelity, which have often been tranſplanted into this country by women of faſhion, [92]as a too common effect of a long reſidence in that: but it is peculiarly ſuitable to my ſubject to advert to another domeſtic miſchief derived from the ſame foreign extraction: I mean, the riſks that have been run, and the ſacrifices which have been made, in order to furniſh our young ladies with the means of acquiring the French language in the greateſt poſſible purity. Perfection in this accompliſhment has been ſo long eſtabliſhed as the ſupreme object; ſo long conſidered as the pre⯑dominant excellence to which all other excellencies muſt bow down, that it would be hopeleſs to attack a law which faſhion has immutably decreed, and which has received the ſtamp of long preſcription. We muſt therefore be contented with ex⯑preſſing a wiſh, that this indiſpenſable per⯑fection could have been attained at the expence of ſacrifices leſs important. It is with the greater regret I animadvert on this and ſome other prevailing practices, as they are errors into which the wiſe [93]and reſpectable have, through want of conſideration, or rather through want of firmneſs to reſiſt the tyranny of faſhion, ſometimes fallen. It has not been unuſual when mothers of rank and reputation have been aſked how they ventured to intruſt their daughters to foreigners, of whoſe principles they know nothing, except that they were Roman Catholics, to anſwer, ‘That they had taken care to be ſecure on that ſubject, for that it had been ſtipulated that the queſtion of religion ſhould never be agitated between the teacher and the pupil.’ This, it muſt be confeſſed, is a moſt deſperate remedy; it is like ſtarving to death to avoid being poiſoned. And one cannot help trembling for the event of that education, from which religion, as far as the governeſs is concerned, is thus formally and ſyſtem⯑atically excluded. Surely it would not be exacting too much to ſuggeſt at leaſt that an attention no leſs ſcrupulous ſhould be exerted to inſure the character of our [94]children's inſtructor for piety and know⯑ledge, than is thought neceſſary to aſcertain that ſhe has nothing patois in her dialect.

I would rate a correct pronunciation and an elegant phraſeology at their juſt price, and I would not rate them low; but I would not offer up principle as a victim to ſounds and accents. And the matter is now made more eaſy; for what⯑ever diſgrace it might once have brought on an Engliſh lady to have had it ſuſpected from her accent that ſhe had the misfor⯑tune, not to be born in a neighbouring country; ſome recent events may ſerve to reconcile her to the ſuſpicion of having been bred in her own: a country, to which, (with all its faults, which are many!) the whole world is looking up with envy and admiration, as the ſeat of true glory and of comparative happineſs: a country, in which the exile, driven out by the crimes of his own, finds a home! a country, to obtain the protection of which it was claim enough to be unfortunate; and no im⯑pediment [95]to have been the ſubject of her direſt foe! a country, which in this reſpect, humbly imitating the Father of compaſſion, when it offered mercy to a ſuppliant enemy, never conditioned for merit, nor inſiſted on the virtues of the miſerable as a preliminary to its own bounty!

CHAP. IV. Compariſon of the mode of female education in the laſt age with the preſent.

To return, however, to the ſubject of general education. A young lady may excel in ſpeaking French and Italian, may repeat a few paſſages from a volume of extracts; play like a profeſſor, and ſing like a ſyren; have her dreſſing-room de⯑corated with her own drawings, tables, ſtands, ſcreens, and cabinets; nay, ſhe may dance like Sempronia ^* herſelf, and yet may have been very badly educated. I am far from meaning to ſet no value whatever on any or all of theſe qualifi⯑cations; they are all of them elegant, and many of them properly tend to the per⯑fecting of a polite education. Theſe things, [97]in their meaſure and degree, may be done, but there are others which ſhould not be left undone. Many things are becoming, but "one thing is needful." Beſides, as the world ſeems to be fully apprized of the value of whatever tends to embelliſh life, there is leſs occaſion here to inſiſt on its importance.

But, though a well bred young lady may lawfully learn moſt of the faſhionable arts, yet it does not ſeem to be the true end of education to make women of faſhion dancers, ſingers, players, painters, actreſſes, ſculptors, gilders, varniſhers, en⯑gravers, and embroiderers. Moſt men are commonly deſtined to ſome profeſſion, and their minds are conſequently turned each to its reſpective object. Would it not be ſtrange if they were called out to exerciſe their profeſſion, or to ſet up their trade, with only a little general knowledge of the trades of all other men, and with⯑out any previous definite application to their own peculiar calling? The pro⯑feſſion [98]of ladies, to which the bent of their inſtruction ſhould be turned, is that of daughters, wives, mothers, and miſtreſſes of families. They ſhould be therefore trained with a view to theſe ſeveral condi⯑tions, and be furniſhed with a ſtock of ideas and principles, and qualifications ready to be applied and appropriated, as occaſion may demand, to each of theſe reſpective ſituations: for though the arts which merely embelliſh life muſt claim ad⯑miration; yet when a man of ſenſe comes to marry, it is a companion whom he wants, and not an artiſt. It is not merely a creature who can paint, and play, and dreſs, and dance; it is a being who can comfort and counſel him; one who can reaſon and reflect, and feel, and judge, and diſcourſe, and diſcriminate; one who can aſſiſt him in his affairs, lighten his cares, ſooth his ſorrows, ſtrengthen his principles, and educate his children.

[99] Almoſt any ornamental talent is a good thing, when it is not the beſt thing a woman has. And the writer of this page is intimately acquainted with ſeveral ladies who, excelling moſt of their ſex in the art of muſic, but excelling them alſo in pru⯑dence and piety, find little leiſure or temptation, amidſt the delights and duties of a large and lovely family, for the exerciſe of this talent, and regret that ſo much of their own youth was waſted in acquiring an art which can be turned to ſo little account in married life; and are now conſcientiouſly reſtricting their daughters in the portion of time allotted to its acquiſition.

Far be it from me to diſcourage the cultivation of any exiſting talent; but may it not be ſuggeſted to the fond believing mother, that talents, like the ſpirit of Owen Glendower, though conjured with ever ſo loud a voice,

Yet will not come when you do call for them.

[100] That injudicious practice, therefore, cannot be too much diſcouraged, of en⯑deavouring to create talents which do not exiſt in nature. That their daughters ſhall learn every thing, is ſo general a maternal maxim, that even unborn daugh⯑ters, of whoſe expected abilities and con⯑jectured faculties, it is preſumed, no very accurate judgment can previouſly be formed, are yet predeſtined to this uni⯑verſality of accompliſhments. This com⯑prehenſive maxim, thus almoſt univerſally brought into practice, at once weakens the general powers of the mind, by draw⯑ing off its ſtrength into too great a variety of directions; and cuts up time into too many portions, by ſplitting it into ſuch an endleſs multiplicity of employments. I know that I am treading on tender ground; but I cannot help thinking that the reſtleſs pains we take to cram up every little vacuity of life, by crowding one new thing upon another, rather creates a thirſt for novelty than know⯑ledge; [101]and is but a well-diſguiſed con⯑trivance to keep us in after-life more effectually from converſing with ourſelves. The care taken to prevent ennui is but a creditable plan for promoting ſelf-igno⯑rance. We run from one occupation to another (I ſpeak of thoſe arts to which little intellect is applied) with a view to lighten the preſſure of time; above all to ſave us from our own thoughts; whereas, were we thrown a little more on our own hands, we might at laſt be driven, by way of ſomething to do, to try to get acquainted with our own hearts; and though our being leſs abſorbed by this buſy trifling and frivolous hurry, might render us ſomewhat more ſenſible of the taedium of life, might not this very ſenſation tend to quicken our purſuit of a better? For an awful thought here ſuggeſts itſelf. If life be ſo long that we are driven to ſet at work every engine to paſs away the tediouſneſs of time; how ſhall we do to get rid of the tediouſ⯑neſs [102]of eternity? an eternity in which not one of theſe acquiſitions will be of the leaſt uſe. Let not then the ſoul be ſtarved by feeding it on theſe huſks, for it can be no more nouriſhed by them than the body can be fed with ideas and prin⯑ciples.

Among the boaſted improvements of the preſent age, none affords more frequent matter of peculiar exultation, than the manifeſt ſuperiority in the employments of the young ladies of our time over thoſe of the good houſewives of the laſt century. The preſent are employed in learning the polite arts, or in acquiring liberal accom⯑pliſhments; while the others wore out their days in adorning the manſion-houſe with hangings of hideous tapeſtry and disfiguring tent-ſtitch. Moſt chearfully do I allow to the reigning modes their boaſted ſuperiority; for certainly there is no piety in bad taſte. Still, granting all the deformity of the exploded ornaments, one advantage attended them; the walls and [103]floors were not vain of their decorations; and it is to be feared, that the little perſon ſometimes is. The flattery beſtowed on the old employments, for probably even they had their flatterers, furniſhed leſs aliment and leſs gratification to vanity, and was leſs likely to impair the delicacy of modeſty, than the exquiſite cultivation of perſonal accompliſhments or perſonal de⯑corations; and every mode which keeps down vanity and keeps back ſelf, has at leaſt a moral uſe: and while one admires the elegant fingers of a young lady, buſied in working or painting her ball dreſs, one cannot help ſuſpecting that her alacrity may be a little ſtimulated by the animating idea how very well ſhe ſhall look in it. Might not this propenſity be a little checked, and an intereſting feeling com⯑bined with her induſtry, were the fair artiſt habituated to exerciſe her ſkill in adorning ſome one elſe rather than herſelf? For it will add no lightneſs to the lighteſt head, nor vanity to the vaineſt heart, to take [104]pleaſure in reflecting how exceedingly the gown ſhe is working will become her mother. This ſuggeſtion, trifling as it may ſeem, of habituating young ladies to exerciſe their taſte and devote their leiſure, not to the decoration of their own perſons, but to the ſervice of thoſe to whom they are bound by every tender tie, would not only help to repreſs vanity, but by thus aſſociating the idea of induſtry with that of filial affection, would promote, while it gratified, ſome of the beſt affections of the heart. The Romans (and it is morti⯑fying, on the ſubject of Chriſtian edu⯑cation to be driven ſo often to refer to the ſuperiority of Pagans) were ſo well aware of the importance of keeping up a ſenſe of family fondneſs and attachment by the ſame means which promoted ſimple and domeſtic employment, that no citizen of note ever appeared in public in any garb but what was ſpun by his wife and daugh⯑ter; and this virtuous faſhion was not confined to the days of republican ſeverity, [105]but even in all the pomp and luxury of imperial power, Auguſtus preſerved this ſimplicity of manners.

Let me be allowed to repeat, that I mean not with prepoſterous praiſe to deſcant on the ignorance or the prejudices of paſt times, nor abſurdly to regret that vulgar ſyſtem of education which rounded the little circle of female acquirements within the limits of the ſampler and the receipt book. Yet if a preference almoſt excluſive was then given to what was merely uſeful, a preference almoſt excluſive alſo is now aſſigned to what is merely ornamental. And it muſt be owned, that if the life of a young lady, formerly, too much reſembled the life of a confectioner, it now too much reſembles that of an actreſs; the morning is all rehearſal, and the evening is all performance: and thoſe who are trained in this regular routine, who are inſtructed in order to be ex⯑hibited, ſoon learn to feel a ſort of im⯑patience in thoſe ſocieties in which their [106]kind of talents are not likely to be brought into play: the taſk of an auditor becomes dull to her, who has been uſed to be a performer. And the exceſſive com⯑mendation which the viſitor is expected to pay for his entertainment, not only keeps alive the flame of vanity in the artiſt by conſtant fuel, but is not ſeldom exacted at a price which a veracity at all ſtrict would grudge; but when a whole circle are obliged to be competitors who ſhall flatter moſt, it is not eaſy to be at once very ſincere and very civil. ^* And unluckily, while the age is become ſo knowing and ſo faſtidious, that if a young lady does not [107]play like a public performer, no one thinks her worth attending to, yet if ſhe does ſo excel, ſome of the ſobereſt of the admiring circle feel a ſtrong alloy to their pleaſure, on reflecting at what a vaſt expence of time this perfection muſt pro⯑bably have been acquired.

May I venture, without being accuſed of pedantry, to conclude this chapter with another reference to Pagan examples? The Hebrews, Egyptians, and Greeks, believed that they could more effectually teach their youth maxims of virtue, by calling in the aid of muſic and poetry; theſe maxims, therefore, they put into verſes, and theſe again were ſet to the moſt popular and ſimple tunes, which the children ſang; thus was their love of goodneſs excited by the very inſtruments of their pleaſure; and the ſenſes, the taſte, and the imagination, as it were, preſſed into the ſervice of religion and morals. Dare I appeal to Chriſtian parents, if theſe arts are commonly uſed by them, as ſubſi⯑diary [108]to religion and to a ſyſtem of morals much more worthy of every ingenious aid and aſſociation, which might tend to re⯑commend them to the youthful mind? Dare I appeal to Chriſtian parents, whether muſic, which fills up no trifling portion of their daughters' time, does not fill it without any moral end, or even ſpecific object? whether ſome of the favourite ſongs of poliſhed ſocieties are not amatory, are not Anacreontic, more than quite become the modeſt lips of innocent youth and delicate beauty?

CHAP. V. On the religious employment of time.—On the manner in which holidays are paſſed.— Selfiſhneſs and inconſideration conſidered. —Dangers ariſing from the world.

THERE are many well diſpoſed parents who, while they attend to theſe faſhionable acquirements, do not neglect to infuſe religious knowledge into the minds of their daughters; and having done this are but too apt to conclude that they have fully acquitted themſelves of the important duties of education. For having, as they think, ſufficiently grounded them in reli⯑gion, they do not ſcruple to allow their daughters to ſpend almoſt the whole of their time exactly like the daughters of worldly people. Now, though it be one great point gained, to have imbued [110]their young minds with the beſt know⯑ledge, the work is not therefore accom⯑pliſhed. "What do ye more than others?" is a queſtion, which in a more extended ſenſe, religious parents muſt be prepared to anſwer.

Such parents ſhould go on to teach children the religious uſe of time, the duty of conſecrating to God every talent, every faculty, every poſſeſſion, and of devoting their whole lives to his glory.

They ſhould be more peculiarly on their guard againſt a ſpirit of idleneſs, and a ſlovenly habitual waſting of time, becauſe this practice, by not aſſuming a palpable ſhape of guilt, carries little alarm to the conſcience. Even religious characters are in danger on this ſide; for not allow⯑ing themſelves to follow the world in its exceſſes and diverſions, they have con⯑ſequently more time upon their hands; and inſtead of dedicating the time ſo reſcued to its true purpoſes, they ſometimes make as it were compenſation to themſelves for [111]their abſtinence from dangerous places of public reſort, by an habitual frivolouſneſs at home; by a ſuperabundance of unprofitable ſmall-talk, idle reading, and a quiet and dull frittering away of time. Their day perhaps has been more free from actual evil; but it will often be found to have been as un⯑productive as that of more worldly cha⯑racters; and they will be found to have traded to as little purpoſe with their maſter's talents. But a Chriſtian muſt take care to keep his conſcience peculiarly alive to the unapparent, though formidable, perils of unprofitableneſs.

To theſe, and to all, the author would earneſtly recommend to accuſtom their children to paſs at once from ſerious buſineſs to active and animated recreation; they ſhould carefully preſerve them from thoſe long and torpid intervals between both, that languid indolence and ſpiritleſs trifling, which wears out ſuch large portions of life in both young and old. It has indeed paſſed into an aphoriſm, [112]that activity is neceſſary to virtue, even among thoſe who are not apprized that it is alſo indiſpenſable to happineſs. So far are many parents from being ſenſible of this truth, that vacations from ſchool are not merely allowed, but appointed to paſs away in weariſome ſauntering and inde⯑terminate idleneſs; and this by way of converting the holidays into pleaſure! Nay, the idleneſs is ſpecifically made over to the child's mind, as the ſtrongeſt ex⯑preſſion of the fondneſs of the parent! A diſlike to learning is thus ſyſtematically excited by prepoſterouſly erecting indo⯑lence into a reward for application!

Theſe and ſuch like errors of conduct ariſe from the latent but very operative principle of ſelfiſhneſs. This principle is obviouſly promoted by many habits and practices ſeemingly of little importance; and indeed ſelfiſhneſs is ſo commonly interwoven with vanity and inconſideration, that I have not always though it neceſſary to mark the diſtinction. They are alter⯑nately [113]cauſe and effect; and are produced and re-produced by reciprocal operation. Ill-judging tenderneſs is in fact only a concealed ſelf-love, which cannot bear to be witneſs to the uneaſineſs which a preſent diſappointment, or difficulty, or vexation would cauſe to a darling child, yet does not ſcruple by improper gratification to ſtore up for it future miſeries, which the child will infallibly ſuffer, though it may be at a diſtant period which the mother will not perhaps behold.

Another principle ſomething different from this, though it may properly fall under the head of ſelfiſhneſs, ſeems to actuate ſome parents in their conduct towards their children: I mean, a certain ſlothfulneſs of mind, a love of eaſe, which impoſes a voluntary blindneſs, and makes them not chooſe to ſee what will give them trouble to combat. From ſuch perſons we frequently hear ſuch expreſſions as theſe: "Children will be children:" ‘My children I ſuppoſe are much like [114]thoſe of other people,’ &c. Thus we may obſerve this dangerous and deluſive principle frequently turning off with a ſmile from the firſt indications of thoſe tempers, which from their fatal tendency ought to be very ſeriouſly taken up. I would be underſtood now as ſpeaking to conſcientious parents, who conſider it as a duty to correct the faults of their children, but who from this indolence of mind, are extremely backward in diſcovering ſuch faults, and not very well pleaſed when they are pointed out by others. Such parents will do well to take notice that whatever they conſider it as a duty to correct, muſt be equally a duty to en⯑deavour to find out. And this love of caſe is the more to be guarded againſt, as it not only leads parents into erroneous conduct towards their children, but is peculiarly dangerous to themſelves. It is a fault frequently cheriſhed from igno⯑rance of its real character; for, not bearing on it the ſtrong features of de⯑formity [115]which mark many other vices, but on the contrary bearing ſome re⯑ſemblance to virtue, it is frequently miſtaken for the Chriſtian graces of patience, meekneſs, and forbearance, than which nothing can be more oppoſite; theſe proceeding from the Chriſtian prin⯑ciple of ſelf-denial, the other from ſelf-indulgence.

In this connection may I be permitted to remark on the practice at the tables of many families, when the children are at home for the holidays; every delicacy is forced upon them, with the tempting remark, "that they cannot have this "or that dainty at ſchool;" and they are indulged in irregular hours from the ſame motive, "becauſe they cannot have that "indulgence at ſchool." Thus the na⯑tural ſeeds of idleneſs, ſenſuality, and ſloth, are at once cheriſhed, by converting the periodical viſit at home into a ſeaſon of intemperance, late hours, and exemption from ſtudy; ſo that children are ha⯑bituated, [116]at an age when laſting aſſociations are formed in the mind, to connect the idea of ſtudy with that of hardſhip, of happineſs with gluttony, and of pleaſure with loitering, feaſting, or ſleeping. Would it not be better to make them combine the delightful idea of home, with the gratification of the ſocial affections, the fondneſs of maternal love, the kindneſs and confidence of the ſweet domeſtic at⯑tachments,

I will venture to ſay, that thoſe liſtleſs and vacant days, when the thoughts have no preciſe object; when induſtry has no definite purſuit; when the mind and the body have no exerciſe, and the ingenuity no acquiſition either to anticipate or to enjoy, are the longeſt, the dulleſt, and the leaſt happy, which children of ſpirit and genius ever paſs. Yes! it is a few ſhort but lively intervals of animated pleaſure, [117]ſnatched from between the ſucceſſive labours and duties of a buſy day, looked forward to with hope, enjoyed with taſte, and recollected without remorſe, which, both to men and to children, yield the trueſt to men and to children, yield the trueſt portions of enjoyment. O ſnatch your offspring from adding to the number of thoſe objects of ſupreme commiſeration, who ſeek their happineſs in doing nothing! Life is but a ſhort day; but it is a work⯑ing day. Activity may lead to evil; but inactivity cannot be led to good.

Young ladies ſhould alſo be accuſtomed to ſet apart a fixed portion of their time as ſacred to the poor ^*, whether in re⯑lieving, [118]inſtructing, or working for them; and the performance of this duty muſt not be left to the event of contingent circumſtances, or the operation of acci⯑dental impreſſions; but it muſt be eſta⯑bliſhed into a principle, and wrought into a habit. A ſpecific portion of time muſt be allotted to it, on which no common engagement muſt be allowed to intrench. This will help to furniſh a powerful remedy for that ſelfiſhneſs whoſe ſtrong holds, the truth cannot be too often repeated, it is the grand buſineſs of Chriſtian education perpetually to attack. If we were but aware how much better it makes ourſelves to wiſh to ſee others better, and to aſſiſt in making them ſo, [119]we ſhould find that the good done would be of as much importance by the habit it would induce in our own minds, as by its beneficial effects on others ^*

It will be requiring of children a very ſmall ſacrifice, if you teach them merely to give that money to the poor which belongs to the parent; this ſort of charity commonly ſubtracts little from their own pleaſures, eſpecially when what they have beſtowed is immediately made up to them, as a reward for their little fit of gene⯑roſity. They will on this plan, ſoon learn to give not only for praiſe but for profit. The ſacrifice of an orange to a little [120]girl, or a feather to a great one, given at the expence of their own gratification, would be a better leſſon of charity on its right ground, than a conſiderable ſum of money, to be preſently replaced by the parent. And it would be habituating them early to combine two ideas which ought never to be ſeparated, charity and ſelf-denial.

As an antidote to ſelfiſhneſs as well as pride and indolence, they ſhould alſo very early be taught to perform all the little offices in their power for themſelves; not to be inſolently calling for ſervants where there is no real occaſion; above all, they ſhould be accuſtomed to conſider the domeſtics' hours of meals as almoſt ſacred, and the golden rule ſhould be practically and uniformly inforced, even on ſo trifling an occaſion as ringing a bell, through mere wantonneſs, or ſelf-love, or pride.

To check the growth of inconſiderate⯑neſs, young ladies ſhould early be taught [121]to diſcharge their little debts with punc⯑tuality. They ſhould be made ſenſible of the cruelty of obliging trades-people to call often for the money due to them; and of hindering and detaining thoſe whoſe time is the ſource of their ſubſiſtence, under pretence of ſome frivolous engage⯑ment, which ought to be made to bend to the comfort and advantage of others. They ſhould conſcientiouſly allow ſufficient time for the execution of their orders; and with a Chriſtian circumſpection, be careful not to drive work-people by need⯑leſs hurry, into loſing their reſt, or break⯑ing the Sabbath. I have known a lady give her gown to a mantua-maker on the Saturday night, to whom ſhe would not for the world ſay in ſo many words, "You muſt work through the whole "of Sunday," while ſhe was virtually compelling her to do ſo, by an injunction to bring the gown home finiſhed on the Monday morning, on pain of her diſ⯑pleaſure. To theſe hardſhips numbers [122]are continually driven by good-natured but inconſiderate employers. As theſe petty exactions of inconſideration furniſh alſo a conſtant aliment to ſelfiſhneſs, let not a deſire to counteract them be con⯑ſidered as leading to too minute details; nothing is too frivolous for animadverſion, which tends to fix a bad habit in the ſuperior, or to wound the feelings of the dependant.

Would it not be turning thoſe political doctrines, which are now ſo warmly agitating, to a truly moral account, and give the beſt practical anſwer to the popular declamations on the inequality of human conditions; were the rich care⯑fully to inſtruct their children to ſoften that inevitable inequality by the mildneſs and tenderneſs of their behaviour to their inferiors? This diſpenſation of God, which excites ſo many murmurs, would, were it thus practically improved, tend to eſtabliſh the glory of that Being who is now ſo often reviled for his injuſtice; for God [123]himſelf is covertly attacked in many of the invectives againſt laws and governments.

This diſpenſation thus properly im⯑proved, would at once call into exerciſe the generoſity, kindneſs, and forbearance of the ſuperior; and the patience, reſign⯑ation, and gratitude of the inferior; and thus, while we were vindicating the ways of Providence, we ſhould be accompliſhing his plan, by bringing into action thoſe virtues of both claſſes which would have had little exerciſe had there been no diſproportion in ranks. Thoſe who are ſo zealouſly contending for the privileges of rank and power, ſhould never loſe ſight of the religious duties and conſiderate virtues which the poſſeſſion of theſe impoſes on themſelves; duties and virtues which ſhould ever be inſeparable from thoſe privileges. As the inferior claſſes have little real right to complain of laws, in this reſpect let the great be watchful to give them as little cauſe to complain of manners; by carefully training up their [124]children to ſupply by individual kindneſs thoſe caſes which laws cannot reach: by ſuch means every leſſon of politics may be converted into a leſſon of piety; and a ſpirit of love might win over ſome whom a ſpirit of invective will only in⯑flame.

It can never be too often repeated, that one of the great objects of education is the forming of habits. Among the inſtances of negligence into which even religiouſly diſpoſed parents and teachers are apt to fall, one is, that they are not ſufficiently attentive in finding intereſting employment for the Sunday. They do not make a ſcruple of ſometimes allowing their children to fill up the intervals of public worſhip with their ordinary em⯑ployments and common ſchool exerciſes. They are not aware that they are thus training their offspring to an early and a ſyſtematic profanation of the Sabbath by this habit; for to children their taſks are their buſineſs: to them a French [125]or Latin exerciſe is as ſerious an occu⯑pation as the exerciſe of a trade or profeſſion is to a man; and if they are allowed to think the one right now, they will not be brought hereafter to think that the other is wrong; for the opinions and habits fixed at this early ſeaſon are not eaſily altered. By this overſight even the friends of religion may be contributing eventually to that abolition of the Sabbath, ſo devoutly wiſhed by its enemies, as the deſired preliminary to the deſtruction of whatever is moſt dear to Chriſtians. What obſtruction would it offer to the general progreſs of youth, if all their Sunday exerciſes (which, with reading, compoſing, tranſcribing, and getting by heart, might be extended to an entertaining variety) were adapted to the peculiar nature of the day. It is not meant to impoſe on them ſuch rigorous ſtudy as ſhall convert the day they ſhould be taught to love, into a day of burdens and hardſhips, or to abridge their innocent enjoyments; but [126]it is intended merely to ſuggeſt that there ſhould be a marked diſtinction in the nature of their employments and ſtudies; for on the obſervance or neglect of this, as was before obſerved, their future notions and principles will in a good degree be formed. The goſpel in reſcuing the Lord's day from the rigorous bondage of the Jewiſh Sabbath, never leſſened the obligation to keep it holy, nor meant to ſanction any ſecular occupation.

Though the author, chiefly writing with a view to domeſtic inſtruction, has pur⯑poſely avoided entering on the diſputed queſtion, whether a ſchool or home educa⯑tion be beſt; a queſtion which perhaps muſt generally be decided by the ſtate of the individual home, and the ſtate of the indivdual ſchool; yet ſhe begs leave to ſuggeſt one remark, which peculiarly belongs to a ſchool education; namely, the general habit of converting the Sunday into a viſiting day by way of gaining time; as if the appropriate inſtructions of the [127]Sunday were the cheapeſt ſacrifice which could be made to pleaſure. Even in thoſe ſchools, in which religion is conſidered as an indiſpenſable part of inſtruction, this kind of inſtruction is almoſt excluſively limited to Sundays: how then are girls ever to make any progreſs in this moſt important article, if they are habituated to loſe the religious advantages of the ſchool, for the ſake of having more dainties for dinner abroad? This remark cannot be ſuppoſed to apply to the viſits which children make to religious parents, and indeed it only applies to thoſe caſes where the ſchool is a conſcientious ſchool, and the viſit a trifling viſit.

Among other ſubjects which engroſs a good ſhare of worldly converſation, one of the moſt attracting is beauty. Many ladies have often a random way of talking rapturouſly on the general importance of beauty, who are yet prudent enough to be very unwilling to let their own daughters find out they are handſome. [128]Perhaps the contrary courſe might be ſafer. If the little liſtener were not conſtantly hearing that beauty is the beſt gift, ſhe would not be ſo vain from fancying herſelf to be the beſt gifted. Be leſs ſolicitous therefore to conceal from her a ſecret which with all your watchfulneſs ſhe will be ſure to find out, without your telling; but rather ſeek to lower the general value of beauty in her eſtimation. Uſe your daughter in all things to a different ſtandard from that of the world. It is not by vulgar people and ſervants only that ſhe will be told of her being pretty. She will be hearing it not only from gay ladies, but from grave men; ſhe will be hearing it from the world around her. The antidote to the preſent danger is not now to be ſearched for; it muſt be already operating. It muſt have been provided for in the foundation laid in the general principle ſhe had been imbib⯑ing, before this particular temptation of beauty came in queſtion. And this general [129]principle is an habitual indifference to flattery. She muſt have learnt not to be intoxicated by the praiſe of the world. She muſt have learnt alſo to eſtimate things by their intrinſic worth, rather than by the world's eſtimation. Speak to her with particular kindneſs and commendation of plain but amiable girls; mention with compaſſion ſuch as are handſome but ill-educated; ſpeak caſually of ſome who were once thought pretty, but have ceaſed to be good; make uſe of the ſhortneſs and uncertainty of beauty, as ſtrong additional reaſons for making that which is little valuable in itſelf, ſtill leſs valuable. As it is a new idea which is always dangerous, you may thus break the force of this danger by allowing her an early intro⯑duction to this inevitable knowledge, which would become more intereſting, and of courſe more perilous by every additional year: and if you can guard againſt that fatal error of letting her ſee that ſhe is more loved on account of her beauty, [130]her familiarity with the idea may be leſs than its novelty afterwards would prove.

But the great and conſtant danger to which young perſons in the higher walks of life are expoſed, is the prevailing turn and ſpirit of general converſation. Even the children of better families who are well inſtructed when at their ſtudies, are yet at other times continually behold⯑ing the WORLD ſet up in the higheſt and moſt advantageous point of view. Seeing the world! knowing the world! ſtanding well with the world! making their way in the world! is ſpoken of as including the whole ſum and ſubſtance of human ad⯑vantages. They hear their education almoſt excluſively alluded to with refer⯑ence to the figure it will enable them to make in the world. In almoſt all companies, they hear all that the world admires ſpoken of with admiration; rank flattered, power ſought, beauty idolized, money conſidered as the one thing need⯑ful, and as the atoning ſubſtitute for [131]the want of all other things; profit held up as the reward of virtue, and worldly fame as the juſt and higheſt prize of lawful ambition; and after the very ſpirit of the world has been thus habitually infuſed into them all the week, one cannot expect much effect from their being coldly told now and then on Sundays, that they muſt not ‘love the world, nor the things of the world.’ To tell them once in ſeven days that it is a ſin to gratify an appetite which you have been whetting the preceding ſix, is to require from them a power of ſelf-control, which our know⯑ledge of the impetuoſity of the paſſions ſhould have taught us is impoſſible.

This is not the place to animadvert on the uſual miſapplication of the phraſe, "knowing the world," which term is commonly applied to keen, deſigning, ſelfiſh, ambitious men, who ſtudy mankind in order to turn it to their own account. But in the true ſenſe of the expreſſion, the ſenſe which Chriſtian parents would [132]wiſh to impreſs on their children, to know the world, is to know its emptineſs, its vanity, its futility, and its wickedneſs. To know it is to deſpiſe it; and in this view, an obſcure Chriſtian in a village may be ſaid to know it better than a hoary courtier, or wily politician; for how can they be ſaid to know it, who go on to love it, to value it, to be led captive by its allurements, to give their ſoul in exchange for its lying promiſes?

But while ſo falſe an eſtimate is often made in faſhionable ſociety of the real value of things; that is, while Chriſtianity does not furniſh the ſtandard, and human opinion does; while the multiplying our deſires is conſidered as a ſymptom of elegance, though to ſubdue them is made the grand criterion of religion; while mo⯑deration is beheld as indicating a poorneſs of ſpirit, though to that very poverty of ſpirit the higheſt promiſe of the goſpel is aſſigned; while worldly wiſdom is enjoined by worldly friends, in contra⯑diction [133]to that aſſertion, ‘that the wiſdom of the world is fooliſhneſs with God;’ while the praiſe of man is to be ſought in oppoſition to that aſſurance, that ‘he fear of man worketh a ſnare.’ While theſe things are ſo, and that they are ſo in a good degree who will deny? may we not venture to affirm that a Chriſtian edu⯑cation though not an impoſſible, is yet a very difficult work?

CHAP. VI. Filial obedience not the character of the age. —A compariſon with the preceding age in this reſpect. —Thoſe who cultivate the mind adviſed to ſtudy the nature of the ſoil. —Unpromiſing children often make ſtrong characters. —Teachers too apt to devote their pains almoſt excluſively to children of parts.

AMONG the real improvements of modern times, and they are not a few, it is to be feared that the growth of filial obedience cannot be included. Who can forbear obſerving and regretting in a variety of inſtances, that not only ſons but daughters have adopted ſomething of that ſpirit of in⯑dependence, and diſdain of control, which characteriſe the times? And is it not obvious that domeſtic manners are not [135]ſlightly tinctured with the hue of public principles? The rights of man have been diſcuſſed, till we are ſomewhat wearied with the diſcuſſion. To theſe have been oppoſed with more preſumption than prudence the rights of woman. It follows according to the natural progreſſion of human things, that the next ſtage of that irradiation which our enlighteners are pouring in upon us as will produce grave deſcants on the rights of children.

This revolutionary ſpirit in families ſuggeſts the remark that among the faults with which it has been too much the faſhion of recent times to load the memory of the incomparable Milton, one of the charges brought againſt his private cha⯑racter (for with his political character we have here nothing to do) has been, that he was ſo ſevere a father as to have compelled his daughters, after he was blind, to read aloud to him for his ſole pleaſure Greek and Latin authors of which they did not underſtand a word. But this is in fact [136]nothing more than an inſtance of the ſtrict domeſtic regulations of the age in which Milton lived; and ſhould not be brought forward as a proof of the ſeverity of his individual temper. Nor indeed in any caſe ſhould it ever be conſidered as an hardſhip for an affectionate child to amuſe an afflicted parent, though it ſhould be attended with a heavier ſacrifice of her own pleaſure than in the preſent inſtance ^*

Is the author then inculcating the harſh doctrine of parental auſterity? By no [137]means. It drives the gentle ſpirit to artifice, and the rugged to deſpair. It generates deceit and cunning, the moſt hopeleſs and hateful in the whole cata⯑logue of female failings. Ungoverned anger in the teacher, and inability to diſcriminate between venial errors and premeditated offence, though they may lead a timid creature to hide wrong tem⯑pers, or to conceal bad actions, will not help her to ſubdue the one or correct the other. Severity will drive terrified children to ſeek, not for reformation, but for impunity. A readineſs to forgive them promotes frankneſs. And we ſhould, above all things, encourage them to be frank in order to come at their faults. They have not more faults for being open, they only diſcover more.

Diſcipline, however, is not cruelty, and reſtraint is not ſeverity. We muſt ſtrengthen the feeble while we repel the bold. The cultivator of the human mind muſt, like the gardener, ſtudy diverſities [138]of ſoil. The ſkilful labourer knows that even where the ſurface is not particularly promiſing, there is often a rough ſtrong ground which will amply repay the trouble of breaking it up; and we are often moſt taken with a ſoft ſurface, though it conceal a ſhallow depth, becauſe it promiſes preſent reward and little trouble. But ſtrong and pertinacious tempers, of which perhaps obſtinacy is the leading vice, under ſkilful management often turn out ſteady and ſterling characters; while from ſofter clay a firm and vigorous virtue is but ſeldom produced.

But theſe revolutions in character can⯑not be effected by mere education. Plutarch has obſerved that the medical ſcience would never be brought to per⯑fection till poiſons ſhould be converted into phyſic. What our late improvers in natural ſcience have done in the medical world, by converting the moſt deadly ingredients into inſtruments of life and health, Chriſtianity with a ſort of divine [139]Alchymy has effected in the moral world, by that tranſmutation which makes thoſe paſſions which have been working for ſin become active in the cauſe of religion. The violent temper of Saul of Tarſus which was "exceedingly mad" againſt the ſaints of God, did God ſee fit to convert into that burning zeal which enabled Paul the Apoſtle to labour ſo unremittingly for the converſion of the Gentile world. Chriſtianity indeed does not ſo much give us new affections or faculties, as give a new direction to thoſe we already have. She changes that ſorrow of the world which worketh death, into ‘godly ſorrow which worketh repentance.’ She changes our anger againſt the perſons we diſlike, into hatred of their ſins. ‘The fear of man which worketh a ſnare,’ ſhe tranſmutes into "that fear of God "which worketh ſalvation. That religion does not extinguiſh the paſſions but correct them, the animated expreſſions of the fervid Apoſtle confirms— ‘Yea, what [140] fearfulneſs; yea, what clearing of your⯑ſelves; yea, what indignation; yea, what fear; yea, what vehement deſire; yea, what zeal; yea, what revenge ^* !’

Thus, by ſome of the moſt troubleſome paſſions of our nature being converted by the bleſſing of God on a religious education to the ſide of virtue, a double purpoſe is effected. Becauſe, if I may be allowed to change the metaphor, it is the character of the paſſions never to obſerve a neutrality. If they are no longer rebels, they become auxiliaries; and a foe ſub⯑dued is an ally obtained. And it is the effect of religion on the paſſions, that when ſhe ſeizes the enemy's garriſon, ſhe does not deſtroy the works, ſhe does not burn the arſenal and ſpike the cannon; but the artillery ſhe ſeizes, ſhe turns to her own uſe, and plants its whole force againſt the enemy from whom ſhe has taken it.

[141] But while I would deprecate harſhneſs, I would inforce diſcipline; and that not merely on the ground of religion, but of happineſs alſo. One reaſon not ſeldom brought forward by tender but miſtaken mothers, as an apology for their un⯑bounded indulgence, eſpecially to weakly children, is, that they probably will not live to enjoy the world when grown up, and that therefore they will not abridge the little pleaſure they may enjoy at pre⯑ſent. But a ſlight degree of obſervation would prove that this is an error in judg⯑ment as well as in principle. For, omit⯑ting any conſiderations reſpecting their future welfare, and entering only into their immediate intereſts; it is an indiſputable fact that children who know no control, whoſe faults encounter no contradiction, and whoſe humours experience conſtant indulgence, grow more irritable and ca⯑pricious, invent wants, create deſires, loſe all reliſh for the pleaſures which they know they may reckon upon; and become [142]perhaps more miſerable than even thoſe children who labour under the more obvious and more commiſerated misfor⯑tune of ſuffering under the tyranny of unkind parents.

An early habitual reſtraint is peculiarly important to the future character and happineſs of women. They ſhould when very young be inured to contradiction. Inſtead of hearing their bon-mots treaſured up and repeated to the gueſts till they begin to think it dull, when they them⯑ſelves are not the little heroine of the theme, they ſhould be accuſtomed to receive but little praiſe for their vivacity or their wit, though they ſhould receive juſt commendation for their patience, their induſtry, their humility, and other qualities which have more worth than ſplendour. They ſhould be led to diſtruſt their own judgment; they ſhould learn not to mur⯑mur at expoſtulation; but ſhould be accuſtomed to expect and to endure oppo⯑ſition. It is a leſſon with which the world [143]will not fail to furniſh them; and they will not practiſe it the worſe for having learnt it the ſooner. It is of the laſt importance to their happineſs in life that they ſhould early acquire a ſubmiſſive temper and a forbearing ſpirit. They muſt even endure to be thought wrong ſometimes, when they cannot but feel they are right. And while they ſhould be anxiouſly aſpiring to do well, they muſt not expect always to obtain the praiſe of having done ſo. But while a gentle demeanor is inculcated, let them not be inſtructed to practiſe gentleneſs merely on the low ground of its being decorous and feminine, and pleaſing, and calculated to attract human favour; but let them be carefully taught to cultivate it on the high principle of obedience to Chriſt; on the practical ground of labouring after con⯑formity to HIM, who, when he propoſed himſelf as a perfect pattern of imitation, did not ſay, learn of me for I am great, or wiſe, or mighty, but ‘learn of me for I [144]am meek and lowly,’ and graciouſly promiſed that the reward ſhould accom⯑pany the practice, by encouragingly adding, "and ye ſhall find reſt to your ſouls." Do not teach them humility on the ordi⯑nary ground that vanity is unamiable, and that no one will love them if they are proud; for that will only go to correct the exterior and make them ſoft and ſmiling hypocrites. But inform them that ‘God reſiſteth the proud,’ while ‘them that are meek he ſhall guide in judg⯑ment, and ſuch as are gentle them ſhall he teach his way.’ In theſe, as in all other caſes, an habitual attention to the motives ſhould be carefully ſubſtituted in their young hearts, in the place of too much anxiety about the event of actions, and too much ſolicitude for that human praiſe which attaches to appearances as much as to realities; to ſucceſs more than to deſert.

There is a cuſtom among teachers, which is not the more right for being [145]common; they are apt to beſtow an undue proportion of pains on children of the beſt capacity, as if only geniuſes were worthy of attention. They ſhould reflect that in moderate talents carefully cultivated, we are perhaps to look for the chief happineſs and virtue of ſociety. If ſuperlative genius had been generally neceſſary, its exiſtence would not have been ſo rare; for Omnipotence could have made thoſe talents common which we now conſider as extraordinary. Beſides, while we are conſcientiouſly inſtructing children of moderate capacity, it is a comfort to reflect that if no labour will raiſe them to a high degree in the ſcale of intellectual excellence, yet they may be led on to perfection in that road in which ‘a way-faring man though ſimple ſhall not err.’ And when a mother feels diſpoſed to repine that her family is not likely to exhibit a groupe of future wits and growing beauties, let her conſole her⯑ſelf by looking abroad into the world, [146]where ſhe will quickly perceive that the monopoly of happineſs is not engroſſed by beauty, nor that of virtue by genius.

A girl who has docility will ſeldom be found to want underſtanding ſufficient for all the purpoſes of a uſeful, a happy, and a pious life. And it is as wrong for parents to ſet out with too ſanguine a dependance on the figure their children are to make in life, as it is unreaſonable to be diſcouraged at every diſappointment. Want of ſucceſs is ſo far from furniſhing a motive for relaxing their energy, that it is a reaſon for redoubling it. Let them ſuſpect their own plans, and reform them; let them diſtruſt their own principles, and correct them. The generality of parents do too little; ſome do much and miſs their reward, becauſe they look not to any ſtrength beyond their own: after much is done, much will remain undone; for the entire regulation of the heart and affections is not the work of education alone, but the operation of divine grace. Will it be [147]accounted enthuſiaſm to ſuggeſt ‘that the fervent effectual prayer of a righteous parent availeth much?’ and perhaps the reaſon why ſo many anxious mothers fail of ſucceſs is, becauſe they repoſe with confidence in their own ſkill and labour, without looking to HIM with⯑out whoſe bleſſing they do but labour in vain.

On the other hand, is it not to be feared that ſome pious parents have fallen into an error of an oppoſite kind? From a full conviction that human endeavours are vain, and that it is God alone who can change the heart, they are earneſt in their prayers, but not ſo earneſt in their endeavours. Such parents ſhould be re⯑minded, that if they do not add their exertions to their prayers, their children are not likely to be more benefited than the children of thoſe who do not add their prayers to their exertions. What God has joined let not man preſume to ſeparate. It is the work of God, we readily acknow⯑ledge, [148]to implant religion in the heart, and to maintain it there as a ruling prin⯑ciple of conduct. And is it not the ſame God which cauſes the corn to grow? Are not our natural lives conſtantly pre⯑ſerved by his power? Who will deny that in Him we live and move and have our being? But how are theſe works of God carried on? By means which he has appointed. By the labour of the huſbandman the corn is made to grow. By food the body is ſuſtained: and by religious inſtruction God is pleaſed to work upon the human heart. As far as we ſee of the ways of God, all his works are carried on by means. It becomes there⯑fore our duty to uſe the means and truſt in God; to remember that God will not work without the means; and that the means can effect nothing without his bleſſing. ‘Paul may plant and Apollos water, but it is God muſt give the increaſe’. But to what does he give the increaſe? To the exertions of Paul [149]and Apollos. It is never ſaid that becauſe God only can give the increaſe, that Paul and Apollos may ſpare their labour.

It is one grand object to give the young probationer juſt and ſober views of the world on which ſhe is about to enter. Inſtead of making her boſom bound at the near proſpect of emancipation from her inſtructors; inſtead of teaching her young heart to dance with premature flutterings as the critical winter draws near in which ſhe is to come out; inſtead of raiſing a tumult in her buſy imagination at the approach of her firſt grown up ball; en⯑deavour to convince her that the world will not turn out to be that ſcene of unvarying and never-ending delights which ſhe has perhaps been led to expect, not only from the ſanguine temper and warm ſpirits natural to youth, but from the value ſhe has ſeen put on thoſe ſhowy accompliſhments which have too pro⯑bably been fitting her for her exhibition in life. Teach her that this world is not [150]a ſtage for the diſplay of ſuperficial talents, but for the ſtrict and ſober exercife of for⯑titude, temperance, meekneſs, faith, dili⯑gence, and ſelf-denial; of her due per⯑formance of which Chriſtian graces, Angels will be ſpectators, and God the judge. Teach her that human life is not a ſplendid romance, ſpangled over with brilliant adventures, and enriched with extraordinary occurrences, and diverſified with wonderful incidents; lead her not to expect that life will abound with ſcenes which will call ſhining qualities and great powers into perpetual action; and for which if ſhe acquit herſelf well ſhe will be rewarded with proportionate fame and certain commendation. But apprize her that human life is a true hiſtory, many paſſages of which will be dull, obſcure, and unintereſting; ſome perhaps tragical; but that whatever gay incidents and pleaſ⯑ing ſcenes may be interſperſed in the progreſs of the piece, yet finally ‘one event happeneth to all;’ to all there is [151]one awful and infallible cataſtrophe. Ap⯑prize her that the eſtimation which man⯑kind forms of merit is not always juſt, nor its praiſe exactly proportioned to deſert; that the world weighs actions in far different ſcales from ‘the balance of the ſanctuary,’ and eſtimates worth by a far different ſtandard from that of the goſpel; apprize her that while her beſt intentions may be ſometimes calumniated, and her beſt actions miſrepreſented, ſhe will be liable to receive commendation on occa⯑ſions wherein her conſcience will tell her ſhe has not deſerved it.

Do not however give her a gloomy and diſcouraging picture of the world, but rather ſeek to give her a juſt and ſober view of the part ſhe will have to act in it. And humble the impetuoſity of hope, and cool the ardour of expectation, by explaining to her that this part, even in her beſt eſtate, will probably conſiſt in a ſucceſſion of petty trials, and a round of quiet duties which, however well per⯑formed, [152]though they will make little or no figure in the book of Fame, will prove of vaſt importance to her in that day when another ‘book is opened, and the judg⯑ment is ſet, and every one will be judged according to the deeds done in the body, whether they be good or bad.’

Say not that theſe juſt and ſober views will cruelly wither her young hopes, and deaden the innocent ſatisfactions of life. It is not true. There is, happily, an active ſpring in the mind of youth which bounds with freſh vigour, and un⯑injured elaſticity, from any ſuch temporary depreſſion. It is not meant that you ſhould darken her proſpect, ſo much as that you ſhould enlighten her underſtanding to contemplate it. And though her feel⯑ings, taſtes, and paſſions, will all be againſt you, if you ſet before her a faithful de⯑lineation of life, yet it will be ſomething to get her judgment on your ſide. It is no unkind office to aſſiſt the ſhort view [153]of youth with the aids of long-ſighted experience, to enable them to diſcover ſpots in the brightneſs of that life which dazzles them in proſpect, though it is probable they will after all chooſe to believe their own eyes rather than the offered glaſs.

CHAP. VII. On female ſtudy, and initiation into know⯑ledge.—Error of cultivating the imagina⯑tion to the neglect of the judgment.—Books of reaſoning recommended.

As this little work by no means aſſumes the character of a general ſcheme of edu⯑cation, the author has purpoſely avoided expatiating largely on any kind of in⯑ſtruction; but ſo far as it is connected, either immediately or remotely, with ob⯑jects of a moral or religious nature. Of courſe ſhe has been ſo far from thinking it neceſſary to enter into the enumeration of thoſe books which are uſeful in general inſtruction, that ſhe has forborne to mention any. With ſuch books the riſing generation is far more copiouſly and ably furniſhed than any preceding period has [155]been; and out of an excellent variety the judicious inſtructor can hardly fail to make ſuch a ſelection as ſhall be beneficial to the pupil.

But while due praiſe ought not to be withheld from the improved methods of communicating the elements of general knowledge; yet is there not ſome danger that our very advantages may lead us into error, by cauſing us to repoſe ſo con⯑fidently on the multiplied helps which facilitate the entrance into learning, as to render our pupils ſuperficial through the very facility of acquirement? Where ſo much is done for them, may they not be led to do too little for themſelves? May there not be a moral diſadvantage in poſſeſſing them with the notion that learn⯑ing may be acquired without diligence and labour? Sound education never can be made a "primroſe path of dalliance." Do what we will we cannot cheat children into learning or play them into knowledge, according to the ſmoothneſs of the modern [156]creed. There is no idle way to any acquiſi⯑tions which really deſerve the name. And as Euclid, in order to repreſs the im⯑petuous vanity of greatneſs, told his Sove⯑reign that there was no royal way to geometry, ſo the fond mother may be aſſured that there is no ſhort cut to any other kind of learning. The tree of knowledge, as a puniſhment perhaps, for its having been at firſt unfairly taſted, cannot now be climbed without difficulty; and this very circumſtance ſerves afterwards to furniſh not only literary pleaſures, but moral advantages: for the knowledge which is acquired by unwearied aſſiduity is laſt⯑ing in the poſſeſſion, and ſweet to the poſſeſſor; both perhaps in proportion to the coſt and labour of the acquiſition. And though an able teacher ought to endeavour, by improving the communicat⯑ing faculty in himſelf, (for many know what they cannot teach,) to ſoften every difficulty; yet in ſpite of the kindneſs and ability with which he will ſmooth every [157]obſtruction, it is probably, among the wiſe inſtitutions of Providence, that great diffi⯑culties ſhould ſtill remain. For education is but an initiation into that life of trial to which we are introduced on our entrance into this world. It is the firſt breaking-in to that ſtate of toil and labour to which we are born; and in this view of the ſubject the acquiſition of learning may be converted to higher uſes than ſuch as are purely literary.

Will it not be aſcribed to a captious ſingularity if I venture to remark that real knowledge and real piety, though they have gained in many inſtances, have ſuffered in others from that profuſion of little, amuſing, ſentimental books with which the youthful library overflows? Abundance has its dangers as well as ſcarcity. In the firſt place may not the multiplicity of theſe alluring little works increaſe the natural reluctance to thoſe more dry and unintereſting ſtudies, of which after all, the rudiments of every [158]part of learning muſt conſiſt? And, ſecondly, is there not ſome danger (though there are many honourable exceptions) that ſome of thoſe engaging narratives may ſerve to infuſe into the youthful heart a ſort of ſpurious goodneſs, a confi⯑dence of virtue? And that the benevolent actions with the recital of which they abound, when they are not made to flow from any ſource but feeling, may tend to inſpire ſelf-complacency, a ſelf-gratu⯑lation, a "ſtand by, for I am holier than "thou?" May they not help to infuſe a love of popularity and an anxiety for praiſe, in the place of that ſimple and unoſtentatious rule of doing whatever good we do, becauſe it is the will of God? The univerſal ſubſtitution of this principle would tend to purify the worldly morality of many a popular little ſtory. And there are few dangers which good parents will more carefully guard againſt than that of giving their children a mere political piety; that ſort of religion which juſt goes to make [159]people more reſpectable, and to ſtand well with the world ^*.

There is a certain precocity of mind which is much helped on by theſe ſuper⯑ficial modes of inſtruction; for frivolous reading will produce its correſpondent effect, in much leſs time than books of ſolid inſtruction; the imagination being liable to be worked upon, and the feelings to be ſet a going, much faſter than the underſtanding can be opened and the judgment enlightened. A talent for con⯑verſation ſhould be the reſult of educa⯑tion, not its precurſor; it is a golden fruit when ſuffered to ripen gradually on the tree of knowledge; but if forced in the [160]hot-bed of a circulating library, it will turn out worthleſs and vapid in proportion as it was artificial and premature. Girls who have been accuſtomed to devour frivolous books, will converſe and write with a far greater appearance of ſkill as to ſtyle and ſentiment at twelve or four⯑teen years old, than thoſe of a more advanced age who are under the diſcipline of ſeverer ſtudies; but the former having early attained to that low ſtandard which had been held out to them, became ſtationary; while the latter, quietly pro⯑greſſive, are paſſing through juſt gradations to a higher ſtrain of mind; and thoſe who early begin with talking and writing like women, commonly end with thinking and acting like children.

The ſwarms of Abridgments, Beauties, aud Compendiums, which form too con⯑fiderable a part of a young lady's library, may be confidered in many inſtances as an infallible receipt for making a ſuperficial mind. The names of the renowned cha⯑racters [161]in hiſtory thus become familiar in the mouths of thoſe who can neither attach to the idea of the perſon, the ſeries of his actions, nor the peculiarities of his character. A few fine paſſages from the poets (paſſages perhaps which derived their chief beauty from their poſition and connection) are huddled together by ſome extract-maker, whoſe brief and diſ⯑connected patches of broken and diſ⯑cordant materials, while they inflame young readers with the vanity of reciting, neither fill the mind nor form the taſte: and it is not difficult to trace back to their ſhallow ſources the hackney'd quotations of cer⯑tain accompliſhed young ladies, who will be frequently found not to have come legiti⯑mately by any thing they know: I mean, not to have drawn it from its true ſpring, the original works of the author from which ſome beauty-monger has ſevered it. Human inconſiſtency in this, as in other caſes, wants to combine two irreconcile⯑able things; it ſtrives to unite the reputa⯑tion [162]of knowledge with the pleaſures of idleneſs, forgetting that nothing that is valuable can be obtained without ſacrifices, and that if we would purchaſe knowledge we muſt pay for it the fair and lawful price of time and induſtry.

This remark is by no means of general application; there are many valuable works which from their bulk would be almoſt inacceſſible to a great number of readers, and a conſiderable part of which may not be generally uſeful. Even in the beſt written books there is often ſuper⯑fluous matter; authors are apt to get enamoured of their ſubject, and to dwell too long on it: every perſon cannot find time to read a longer work on any ſubject, and yet it may be well for them to know ſomething on almoſt every ſubject; thoſe therefore, who abridge voluminous works judiciouſly, render ſervice to the commu⯑nity. But there ſeems, if I may venture the remark, to be a miſtake in the uſe of abridgments. They are put ſyſtematically [163]into the hands of youth, who have, or ought to have leiſure for the works at large; while abridgments ſeem more im⯑mediately calculated for perſons in more advanced life, who wiſh to recal ſomething they had forgotten; who want to reſtore old ideas rather than acquire new ones; or they are uſeful for perſons immerſed in the buſineſs of the world who have little leiſure for voluminous reading. They are excellent to refreſh the mind, but not competent to form it.

Perhaps there is ſome analogy between the mental and bodily conformation of women. The inſtructor therefore ſhould imitate the phyſician. If the latter pre⯑ſcribe bracing medicines for a body of which delicacy is the diſeaſe, the former would do well to prohibit relaxing reading for a mind which is already of too ſoft a texture, and ſhould ſtrengthen its feeble tone by invigorating reading.

By ſoftneſs, I cannot be ſuppoſed to mean imbecility of underſtanding, but [164]natural ſoftneſs of heart, with that indo⯑lence of ſpirit which is foſtered by indulg⯑ing in ſeducing books and in the general habits of faſhionable life.

I mean not here to recommend books which are immediately religious, but ſuch as exerciſe the reaſoning faculties, teach the mind to get acquainted with its own nature, and to ſtir up its own powers. Let not a timid young lady ſtart if I ſhould venture to recommend to her, after a proper courſe of preparation, to ſwallow and digeſt ſuch ſtrong meat, as Watts's or Duncan's little book of Logic, ſome parts of Mr. Locke's Eſſay on the Human Un⯑derſtanding, and Biſhop Butler's Analogy. Where there is leiſure, and capacity, and an able counſellor, works of this nature might be profitably ſubſtituted in the place of ſo much Engliſh Sentiment, French Philo⯑ſophy, Italian Poetry, and fantaſtic German imagery and magic wonders. While ſuch enervating or abſurd books ſadly diſqualify the reader for ſolid purſuit or vigorous [165]thinking, the ſtudies here recommended would act upon the conſtitution of the mind as a kind of alterative, and, if I may be allowed the expreſſion, would help to brace the intellectual ſtamina.

This is however by no means intended to exclude works of taſte and imagination, which muſt always make the ornamental part, and of courſe a very conſiderable part of female ſtudies. It is only ſug⯑geſted that they ſhould not form them entirely. For what is called dry tough reading, independent of the knowledge it conveys, is uſeful as an habit and whole⯑ſome as an exerciſe. Serious ſtudy ſerves to harden the mind for more trying con⯑flicts; it lifts the reader from ſenſation to intellect; it abſtracts her from the world and its vanities; it fixes a wandering ſpirit, and fortifies a weak one; it divorces her from matter; it corrects that ſpirit of trifling which ſhe naturally contracts from the frivolous turn of female converſation, [166]and the petty nature of female employ⯑ments; it concentrates her attention, aſſiſts her in a habit of excluding tri⯑vial thoughts, and thus even helps to qualify her for religious purſuits. Yes; I repeat it, there is to woman a Chriſtian uſe to be made of ſober ſtudies; while books of an oppoſite caſt, however unex⯑ceptionable they may be ſometimes found in point of expreſſion; however free from evil in its more groſs and palpable ſhapes, yet by their very nature and conſtitution they excite a ſpirit of relaxation, by exhibiting ſcenes and ideas which ſoften the mind; they impair its general powers of reſiſtance, and at beſt feed habits of improper indulgence, and nonriſh a vain and viſionary indolence, which lays the mind open to error and the heart to ſeduction.

Women are little accuſtomed to cloſe reaſoning on any ſubject; ſtill leſs do they inure their minds to conſider particular [167]parts of a ſubject; they are not habituated to turn a truth round and view it in all its varied aſpects and poſitions; and this per⯑haps is one cauſe (as will be obſerved in another ^* place) of the too great confi⯑dence they are diſpoſed to place in their opinions. Though their imagination is already too lively, and their judgment naturally incorrect; in educating them we go on to ſtimulate the imagination, while we neglect the regulation of the judgment. They already want ballaſt, and we make their education conſiſt in continually crowding more ſail than they can carry. Their intellectual powers being ſo little ſtrengthened by exerciſe, makes every little buſineſs appear a hardſhip to them: whereas ferious ſtudy would be uſeful, were it only that it leads the mind to the habit of conquering difficulties. But it is peculiarly hard to turn at once from [168]the indolent repoſe of light reading, from the concerns of mere animal life, the objects of ſenſe, or the frivolouſneſs of chit chat; it is peculiarly hard, I ſay, to a mind ſo ſoftened, to reſcue itſelf from the dominion of ſelf-indulgence, to reſume its powers, to call home its ſcat⯑tered ſtrength, to ſhut out every foreign intruſion, to force back a ſpring ſo un⯑naturally bent, and to devote itſelf to religious reading, reflection, or ſelf-examination: whereas to an intellect accuſtomed to think at all the difficulty of thinking ſeriouſly is obviouſly leſſened.

Far be it from me to deſire to make ſcholaſtic ladies or female dialecticians; but there is little fear that the kind of books here recommended, if thoroughly ſtudied, and not ſuperficially ſkimmed, will make them pedants or induce conceit; for by ſhewing them the poſſible powers of the human mind, you will bring them to ſee the littleneſs of their own, and to [169]get acquainted with the mind and to regu⯑late it, does not ſeem the way to puff it up. But let her who is diſpoſed to be elated with her literary acquiſitions, check her vanity by calling to mind the juſt remark of Swift, ‘that after all her boaſted acquirements, a woman will, ge⯑nerally ſpeaking, be found to poſſeſs leſs of what is called learning than a common ſchool-boy.’

Neither is there any fear that this ſort of reading will convert ladies into authors. The direct contrary effect will be likely to be produced by the peruſal of writers who throw the generality of readers at ſuch an unapproachable diſtance. Who are thoſe ever multiplying authors, that with un⯑paralleled fecundity are overſtocking the world with their quick ſucceeding progeny? They are novel writers; the eaſineſs of whoſe productions is at once the cauſe of their own fruitfulneſs, and of the almoſt infinitely numerous race of imitators to [170]whom they give birth. Such is the fright⯑ful facility of this ſpecies of compoſition, that every raw girl while ſhe reads, is tempted to fancy that ſhe can alſo write. And as Alexander, on peruſing the Iliad, found by congenial ſympathy the image of Achilles in his own ardent ſoul, and felt himſelf the hero he was ſtudying; and as Corregio, on firſt beholding a picture which exhibited the perfection of the Graphic art, prophetically felt all his own future greatneſs, and cried out in rapture, "And I too am a painter!" ſo a thorough paced novel reading Miſs, at the cloſe of every tiſſue of hackney'd adven⯑tures, feels within herſelf the ſtirring impulſe of correſponding genius, and triumphantly exclaims, ‘And I too am an author!—’ The glutted imagination ſoon overflows with the redundance of cheap ſentiment and plentiful incident, and by a ſort of arithmetical proportion, is enabled by the peruſal of any three [171]novels to produce a fourth; till every freſh production, like the progeny of Banquo, is followed by ‘Another, and another, and another ^*’ Is a lady, however deſtitute of talents, education, or knowledge of the world, whoſe ſtudies have been completed by a circulating library, in any diſtreſs of mind? the writing a novel ſuggeſts itſelf as the beſt ſoother of her ſorrows! Does ſhe labour under any depreſſion of circum⯑ſtances? writing a novel occurs as the readieſt receipt for mending them! And ſhe ſolaces herſelf with the conviction that [172]the ſubſcription which has been given to her importunity or her neceſſities, has been given to her genius. And this confi⯑dence inſtantly levies a freſh contribution for a ſucceeding work. Capacity and cultivation are ſo little taken into the account, that writing a book ſeems to be now conſidered as the only ſure reſource which the idle and the illiterate have always in their power.

May I be indulged in a ſhort digreſſion to remark, though rather out of its place, that the corruption occaſioned by theſe books has ſpread ſo wide, and de⯑ſcended ſo low, that not only among milleners, mantua-makers, and other trades where numbers work together, the labour of one girl is frequently ſacrificed that ſhe may be ſpared to read thoſe miſchievous books to the others; but the Author has been aſſured by clergymen, who have witneſſed the fact, that they are procured and greedily read in the wards of our Hoſpitals! an awful hint, that thoſe who [173]teach the poor to read, ſhould not only take care to furniſh them with principles which will lead them to abhor corrupt books, but ſhould alſo furniſh them with ſuch books as ſhall ſtrengthen and confirm their principles ^*. And let every Chriſt⯑ian remember, that there is no other way of entering truly into the ſpirit of that divine prayer, which petitions that the name of God may be "hallowed," that ‘his kingdom (of grace) may come,’ and that ‘his will may be done on earth as it [174]is in heaven,’ than by each individual contributing according to his meaſure to accompliſh the work for which he prays; for to pray that theſe great objects may be promoted, without contributing to their promotion, is a palpable inconſiſtency.

CHAP. VIII. On the religious and moral uſe of hiſtory and geography.

BUT while every ſort of uſeful know⯑ledge ſhould be carefully imparted to young perſons, it ſhould be imparted not merely for its own ſake, but alſo for the ſake of its ſubſerviency to higher things. All human learning ſhould be taught not as an end but a means; and in this view even a leſſon of hiſtory or geography may be converted into a leſſon of religion. In the ſtudy of hiſtory, the inſtructor will accuſtom the pupil not merely to ſtore her memory with facts and anecdotes, and to aſcertain dates and epochas; but ſhe will accuſtom her alſo to trace effects to their cauſes, to examine the ſecret ſprings of action, and to obſerve [176]the operation of the paſſions. It is only meant to notice here ſome few of the moral benefits which may be derived from a judicious peruſal of hiſtory; and from among other points of inſtruction, I ſelect the following:

• The ſtudy of hiſtory may ſerve to give a clearer inſight into the corruption of human nature:
• It may ſhow the plan of Providence in the direction of events, and in the uſe of unworthy inſtruments:
• It may aſſiſt in the vindication of Provi⯑dence, in the common failure of virtue and the ſucceſs of vice:
• It may lead to a diſtruſt of our own judgment:
• It may contribute to our improvement in ſelf-knowledge.

But to prove to the pupil the important doctrine of human corruption from the ſtudy of hiſtory, will require a truly Chriſtian commentator; for, from the low ſtandard of right eſtabliſhed by the gene⯑rality [177]of hiſtorians, who erect ſo many perſons into good characters who fall ſhort of the true idea of Chriſtian virtue, the unaſſiſted reader will be liable to form very imperfect views of what is real goodneſs; and will conclude, as his author ſometimes does, that the true idea of human nature is to be taken from the medium between his beſt and his worſt characters; without acquiring a juſt notion of that prevalence of evil, which, in ſpite of thoſe few brighter luminaries that here and there juſt ſerve to gild the gloom of hiſtory, tends abundantly to eſtabliſh the doctrine. It will indeed be continually eſtabliſhing itſelf by thoſe who, in peruſing the hiſtory of mankind, carefully mark the progreſs of ſin, from the firſt timid irruption of an evil thought, to the fearleſs accompliſhment of the abhorred crime in which that thought has ended: from the indignant queſtion ‘Is thy ſervant a dog that he ſhould do this great thing ^*?’ [178]to the perpetration of that very enormity of which he could not endure the ſlighteſt ſuggeſtion.

The religious reader of general hiſtory will obſerve the controlling hand of Provi⯑dence in the direction of events, and in turning the moſt unworthy actions and inſtruments to the accompliſhment of his own purpoſes. She will mark infinite Wiſdom directing what appears to be caſual occurrences, to the completion of his own plan. She will point out how cauſes ſeemingly the moſt unconnected, events ſeemingly the moſt unpromiſing, circum⯑ſtances ſeemingly the moſt incongruous, are all working together for ſome final good. She will mark how national as well as individual crimes are often over⯑ruled to ſome hidden purpoſe far different from the intention of the actors: how Omnipotence can and often does, bring about the beſt purpoſes by the worſt in⯑ſtruments: how the bloody and unjuſt conqueror is but "the rod of HIS wrath," [179]to puniſh or to purify his offending children: how "the fury of the oppreſſor," and the ſufferings of the oppreſſed, will one day vindicate HIS righteous dealings. She will unfold to the leſs enlightened reader how infinite Wiſdom often mocks the inſignificance of human greatneſs, and the ſhallowneſs of human ability, by ſetting aſide inſtruments the moſt powerful, while He works by agents comparatively con⯑temptible. But ſhe will carefully guard this doctrine of Divine Providence thus working out his own purpoſes through the ſins of his creatures, and by the inſtru⯑mentality of the wicked, by calling to mind, that while the offender is but a tool in the hands of the great artificer, ‘yet woe be to him by whom the offence cometh.’ She will explain how all the mutations and revolutions in ſtates which appear to us ſo unaccountable, and how thoſe operations of Providence which ſeem to us ſo entangled and complicated, all move harmoniouſly and in perfect order: [180]That there is not an event but has its commiſſion; not a misfortune which breaks its allotted rank; not a trial which moves out of its appointed track. While calamities and crimes ſeem to fly in caſual confuſion, all is commanded or permitted; all is under the control of a wiſdom which cannot err, of a goodneſs which cannot do wrong.

To explain my meaning by a few in⯑ſtances. When the ſpirit of the youthful reader riſes in honeſt indignation at that hypocritical piety which divorced an un⯑offending Queen to make way for the lawful crime of our eighth Henry's mar⯑riage with Ann Boleyn; and when that indignation is increaſed by the more open profligacy which brought about the execu⯑tion of the latter; the inſtructor will not loſe ſo fair an occaſion for unfolding how in the councils of the Moſt High the crimes of the king were overruled to the happineſs of the country; and how, to this inauſpicious marriage, from which the [181]heroic Elizabeth ſprung, the Proteſtant religion owed its firm ſtability.

She will explain to her, how even the conqueſts of ambition, after having deluged a land with blood, and involved the perpe⯑trator in guilt, and the innocent victim in ruin, may yet be made the inſtruments of opening to future generations the way to commerce, to civilization, to Chriſtianity. She may remind her, as they are following Caeſar in his invaſion of Britain, that whereas the conqueror fancied he was only gratifying his own inordinate ambition, ex⯑tending the flight of the Roman Eagle, immortalizing his own name, and proving that "this world was made for Caeſar;" he was in reality becoming the effectual though unconſcious inſtrument of leading a land of barbarians to civilization and to ſcience; and was in fact preparing an iſland of Pagans to embrace the religion of Chriſt. She will inform her, that when the above-named victorious nation had made Judea a Roman province, and the [182]Jews had become their tributaries, the Romans did not know, nor did the indig⯑nant Jews ſuſpect, that this circumſtance was confirming an event the moſt import⯑ant the world ever ſaw.

For when ‘Auguſtus ſent forth a decree that all the world ſhould be taxed;’ he thought he was only enlarg⯑ing his own imperial power, whereas he was acting in unconſcious ſubſervience to the decree of a higher Sovereign, and was helping to aſcertain by a public act the exact period of Chriſt's birth, and fur⯑niſhing a record of his extraction from that family from which it was predicted he ſhould ſpring. Herod's atrocious murder of the innocents has added an additional circumſtance for the confirma⯑tion of our faith; nay, the treachery of Judas, and the injuſtice of Pilate, were the human inſtruments employed for the ſalvation of the world.

The youth that is not armed with Chriſtian principles, will be tempted to [183]mutiny not only againſt the juſtice, but the very exiſtence of a ſuperintending Provi⯑dence, in contemplating thoſe frequent inſtances which occur in hiſtory of the ill ſucceſs of the more virtuous cauſe, and the proſperity of the wicked. He will ſee with aſtoniſhment that it is Rome which triumphs, while Carthage, which had clearly the better cauſe, falls. Now and then indeed a Cicero prevails, and a Cataline is ſubdued: but often, it is Caeſar ſucceſsful againſt the ſomewhat juſter pretenſions of Pompey, and againſt the ſtill clearer cauſe of Cato. It is Octavius who triumphs, and it is over Brutus that he triumphs! It is Tiberius that is enthroned, while Germanicus falls!

Thus his faith in a righteous Providence at firſt view is ſtaggered, and he is ready to ſay, Surely it is not God that governs the earth! But on a fuller confideration (and here the ſuggeſtions of a Chriſtian inſtructor are peculiarly wanted,) there [184]will appear great wiſdom in this very confuſion of vice and virtue; for it is calculated to ſend one's thoughts forward to a world of retribution, the principle of retribution being ſo imperfectly eſta⯑bliſhed in this. It is indeed ſo far com⯑mon for virtue to have the advantage here, in point of happineſs at leaſt, though not of glory, that the courſe of Providence is ſtill calculated to prove that God is on the ſide of virtue; but ſtill, virtue is ſo often unſucceſsful, that clearly the God of virtue, in order that his work may be perfect, muſt have in reſerve a world of retribution. This confuſed ſtate of things therefore is juſt that ſtate which is moſt of all calculated to confirm the deeply conſi⯑derate mind in the belief of a future ſtate: for if all were even here, or very nearly ſo, ſhould we not ſay ‘Juſtice is already ſarisfied, and there needs no other world?’ On the other hand, if vice always triumphed, ſhould we not then [185]be ready to argue in favour of vice rather than virtue, and to wiſh for no other world?

It ſeems ſo very important to ground young perſons in the belief that they will not inevitably meet in this world with reward and ſucceſs according to their merit, but to habituate them to expect even the moſt virtuous attempts to be often, though not always diſappointed, that I am in danger of tautology on this point. This fact is preciſely what hiſtory teaches. The truth ſhould be plainly told to the young reader; and the antidote to that evil, which miſtaken and worldly people would expect to ariſe from divulging this diſcouraging doctrine, is faith. The importance of faith there⯑fore, and the neceſſity of it to real, un⯑bending, and perſevering virtue, is ſurely made plain by profane hiſtory itſelf. For the ſame thing which happens to ſtates and kings, happens to private life and to individuals.

[186] Diſtruſt and diffidence in our own judg⯑ment ſeems to be alſo an important in⯑ſtruction to be learnt from hiſtory. How contrary to all expectation do the events therein recorded commonly turn out? and yet we proceed to fortell this and that event from the appearances of things under our own obſervation, with the ſame arro⯑gant certainty as if we had never been warned by the monitory annals of man⯑kind.

There is ſcarcely one great event in hiſtory which does not, in the iſſue, pro⯑duce effects upon which human foreſight could never have calculated. The ſucceſs of Auguſtus againſt his country produced peace in many diſtant provinces, who thus ceaſed to be haraſſed and tormented by this oppreſſive republic. Could this effect have been foreſeen, it might have ſobered the deſpair of Cato, and checked the vehe⯑mence of Brutus. In politics, in ſhort in every thing, except in morals and religion, all is, to a conſiderable degree, uncertain. [187]This reaſoning is not meant to ſhew that Cato ought not to have fought, but that he ought not to have deſponded even after the laſt battle; and certainly, even upon his own principles, ought not to have killed himſelf. It would be departing too much from my object to apply this argument againſt thoſe who were driven to unreaſon⯑able diſtruſt and deſpair by the late ſuc⯑ceſſes of a neighbouring nation.

But all knowledge will be compara⯑tively of little value, if we neglect ſelf⯑knowledge; and of ſelf-knowledge hiſto⯑ry and biography may be made ſucceſsful vehicles. It will be to little purpoſe that our pupils become accurate critics on the characters of others, while they remain ig⯑norant of themſelves; for while to thoſe who exerciſe a habit of ſelf-application a book of profane hiſtory may be made an inſtrument of improvement in this difficult ſcience; ſo without this habit the Bible it⯑ſelf [188]may, in this view, be read with little profit.

It will be to no purpoſe that the reader weeps over the fortitude of the Chriſtian hero, or the conſtancy of the martyr, if ſhe do not bear in mind that ſhe herſelf is called to endure her own common trials with ſomething of the ſame temper: if ſhe do not bear in mind that, to control irregular humours, and to ſubmit to the daily vexations of life, will require, though in a lower degree, the exertion of the ſame principle, and ſupplication for the aid of the ſame ſpirit which ſuſtained the Chriſt⯑ian hero in the trying conflicts of life, or the martyr in his agony at the ſtake.

May I be permitted to ſuggeſt a few in⯑ſtances, by way of ſpecimen, how both ſa⯑cred and common hiſtory may tend to promote ſelf-knowledge? And let me again remind the warm admirer of ſuffer⯑ing piety under extraordinay trials, that if [189]ſhe now fails in the petty occaſions to which ſhe is actually called out, ſhe would not be likely to have ſtood in thoſe more trying occaſions which excite her admira⯑tion.

While ſhe is applauding the ſelf-deny⯑ing ſaint who renounced his eaſe, or choſe to embrace death, rather than violate his duty, let her aſk herſelf if ſhe has never refuſed to ſubmit to the paltry inconve⯑nience of giving up her company, or even altering her dinner-hour on a Sunday, by which trifling ſacrifice her family might have been enabled to attend the public worſhip in the afternoon.

While ſhe reads with horror that Bel⯑ſhazzar was rioting with his thouſand no⯑bles at the very moment when the Perſian army was burſting through the brazen gates of Babylon; is ſhe very ſure that ſhe herſelf, in an almoſt equally imminent moment of public danger, has not been nightly indulging in every ſpecies of diſſi⯑pation?

[190] When ſhe is deploring the inconſiſtency of the human heart while ſhe contraſts Mark Anthony's bravery and contempt of eaſe at one period, with his licentious in⯑dulgences at another; or while ſhe la⯑ments over the intrepid ſoul of Caeſar, whom ſhe had been following in his pain⯑ful marches, or admiring in his contempt of death, diſſolved in diſſolute pleaſures with the enſnaring Queen of Egypt; let her examine whether ſhe herſelf has never, though in a much lower degree, evinced ſomething of the ſame inconſiſtency? whe⯑ther ſhe who lives perhaps an orderly, ſober, and reaſonable life, during her ſum⯑mer reſidence in the country, does not plunge with little ſcruple in the winter into all the moſt extravagant pleaſures of the capital? whether ſhe never carries about with her an accommodating kind of reli⯑gion, which can be made to bend to places and ſeaſons, to climates and cuſtoms; which takes its tincture from the faſhion [191]without, and not its habits from the prin⯑ciple within?

While ſhe is admiring the generoſity of Alexander in giving away kingdoms and provinces, let her, in order to aſcertain whether ſhe could imitate this magnani⯑mity, take heed if ſhe herſelf is daily ſeiz⯑ing all the little occaſions of doing good, which every day preſents to the affluent? Her call is not to ſacrifice a province; but does ſhe ſacrifice an opera ticket? She who is not doing all the good ſhe can under exiſting circumſtances, would not do all ſhe foreſees ſhe ſhould, in ima⯑ginary ones, were her power enlarged to the extent of her wiſhes.

While ſhe is inveighing with patriotic indignation, that in a neighbouring metro⯑polis thirty theatres were open every night in time of war and public calamity, is ſhe very clear, that in a metropolis which contains only three, ſhe was not almoſt conſtantly at one of them, in time of war and public calamity alſo? For though in [192]a national view it may make a wide differ⯑ence whether there be three theatres or thirty, yet, as the ſame perſon can only go to one of them at once, it makes but little difference as to the quantum of diſſipation in the individual. She who rejoices at ſucceſsful virtue in a hiſtory, or at the proſperity of a perſon whoſe intereſts do not interfere with her own, may exerciſe her ſelf-knowledge, by examining whether ſhe rejoices equally at the happineſs of every one about her; and let her remem⯑ber ſhe does not rejoice at it in the true ſenſe, if ſhe does not labour to promote it. She who glows with rapture at a virtuous character in hiſtory, ſhould aſk her own heart, whether ſhe is equally ready to do juſtice to the fine qualities of her acquaintance, though ſhe may not parti⯑cularly love them; and whether ſhe takes unfeigned pleaſure in the ſuperior talents, virtues, fame, and fortune of thoſe whom ſhe profeſſes to love, though ſhe is eclipſed by them?

[193] In like manner, in the ſtudy of geo⯑graphy and natural hiſtory, the attention ſhould be habitually turned to the goodneſs of Providence, who commonly adapts the various productions of climates to the peculiar wants of the reſpective inhabitants. To illuſtrate my meaning by one or two inſtances out of a thouſand. The reader may be led to admire the conſiderate good⯑neſs of Providence in having cauſed the ſpiry fir, whoſe ſlender foliage does not obſtruct the beams of the ſun, to grow in the dreary regions of the North, whoſe ſhivering inhabitants could ſpare none of its ſcanty rays; while in the torrid zone, the palm tree, the plantane, and the banana, ſpread their umbrella leaves to break the almoſt intolerable fervors of a vertical ſun. How the camel, who is the ſole carrier of all the merchandiſe of Turkey, Perſia, Egypt, Arabia, and Bar⯑bary, [194]who is obliged to tranſport his in⯑credible burthens through countries in which paſture is ſo rare, can ſubſiſt twenty-four hours without food, and can travel, loaded, many days without water, through dry and duſty deſerts, which ſupply none; and all this, not from the habit, but from the conformation of the animal: for Na⯑turaliſts make this conformity of powers to climates a rule of judgment in aſcer⯑taining the native countries of animals, and always determine it to be that to which their powers and properties are moſt appro⯑priate.

Thus the writers of natural hiſtory are perhaps unintentionally magnifying the operations of Providence, when they inſiſt that animals do not modify and give way to the influence of other climates; but here they too commonly ſtop; and here the pious inſtructor will come in, in aid of their deficiency: for Philoſophers too ſeldom trace up cauſes, and wonders, and bleſſings to their Author. And it is [195]peculiarly to be regretted that ſuch a writer as Buffon, who, though not famous for his accuracy, poſſeſſed ſuch diverſified powers of deſcription, that he had the talent of making the dryeſt ſubjects in⯑tereſting; together with ſuch a livelineſs of delineation, that his characters of ani⯑mals are drawn with a ſpirit and variety rather to be looked for in an hiſtorian of men than of beaſts: it is to be regretted that this writer is abſolutely inadmiſſible into the library of a young lady, both on account of his immodeſty and his impiety; and if, in wiſhing to exclude him, it may be thought wrong to have given him ſo much commendation, it is only meant to ſhow that the author is not led to re⯑probate his principles from inſenſibility to his talents ^*

CHAP. IX. On the uſe of definitions, and the moral benefits of accuracy in language.

I have choſen to ſhelter myſelf under the broad ſanction of the great Author here quoted, with a view to apply this rule in philology to a moral purpoſe; for it applies to the veracity of converſation as much as to its correctneſs; and as ſtrongly recommends unequivocal and ſimple truth, as accurate and juſt expreſſion. Scarcely any one perhaps has an adequate con⯑ception how much clear and correct ex⯑preſſions [198]preſſions favour the elucidation of truth; and the ſide of truth is obviouſly the ſide of morals; it is in fact one and the ſame cauſe; and it is of courſe the ſame cauſe with that of true religion alſo.

It is therefore no worthleſs part of edu⯑cation to ſtudy the preciſe meaning of words, and the appropriate ſignification of language. To this end I know no better method than to accuſtom young perſons very early to define common words and things; for, as definition ſeems to lie at the root of correctneſs, to be accuſtomed to define Engliſh words in Engliſh, would improve the underſtanding more than barely to know what thoſe words are called in French or Italian. Or rather one uſe of learning other languages is, becauſe definition is often involved in etymology; that is, ſince many Engliſh words take their derivation from foreign languages, they cannot be ſo accurately underſtood without ſome knowledge of thoſe languages: but preciſion of any [199]kind too ſeldom finds its way into the education of women.

It is perhaps going out of my province to obſerve, that it might be well if young men alſo, before they entered on the world, were to be furniſhed with correct definitions of certain words, the uſe of which is rather ambiguous. For inſtance; they ſhould be provided with a good defi⯑nition of the word honour in the faſhionable ſenſe, ſhewing what vices it includes and what virtues it does not include: the term good company, which even the courtly Petronius of our days has defined as ſome⯑times including not a few immoral and diſreputable characters: religion, which in the various ſenſes aſſigned it by the world, ſometimes means ſuperſtition, ſome⯑times fanaticiſm, and ſometimes a mere diſpoſition to attend on any kind of form of worſhip: the word goodneſs, which is made to mean every thing that is not notoriouſly bad; and ſometimes even that too, if what is notoriouſly bad be accom⯑panied [200]panied by good humour, pleaſing man⯑ners, and a little alms-giving. By theſe means they would go forth armed againſt many of the falſe opinions which through the abuſe or ambiguous meaning of words paſs ſo current in the world.

But to return to the youthful part of that ſex which is the more immediate object of this little work. With correct definition they ſhould alſo be taught to ſtudy the ſhades of words, and this not merely with a view to accuracy of expreſ⯑ſion, but to moral truth.

It may be thought ridiculous to aſſert, that morals have any connection with the purity of language, or that the preciſion of truth may be violated through defect of critical exactneſs in the three degrees of compariſon: yet how frequently do we hear from the dealers in ſuperlatives, of "moſt admirable," ſuper-excellent, and "quite perfect" people, who, to plain perſons, not bred in the ſchool of ex⯑aggeration, would appear mere common [201]characters, not riſing above the level of mediocrity! By this negligence in the juſt application of words, we ſhall be as much miſled by theſe trope and figure ladies, when they degrade as when they panegyrize; for to a plain and ſober judgment, a tradeſman may not be ‘the moſt good-for-nothing fellow that ever exiſted,’ merely becauſe it was impoſ⯑ſible for him to execute in an hour an order which required a week; a lady may not be ‘the moſt hideous fright the world ever ſaw,’ though the make of her gown may have been obſolete for a month; nor may one's young friend's father be ‘a mon⯑ſter of cruelty,’ though he may be a quiet gentleman who does not chooſe to live at watering places, but likes to have his daughter ſtay at home with him in the country.

But of all the parts of ſpeech the inter⯑jection is the moſt abundantly in uſe with the hyperbolical fair ones. Would it could be added that theſe emphatical [202]expletives (if I may make uſe of a con⯑tradictory term) were not ſometimes tinctured with profanenſs! Though I am perſuaded that idle habit is more at the bottom of this deep offence than intended impiety, yet there is ſcarcely any error of youthful talk which wants ſeverer caſtiga⯑tion. And an habit of exclamation ſhould be rejected by poliſhed people as vulgar, even if it were not abhorred as profane.

The converſation of young females is alſo in danger of being overloaded with epithers. As in the warm ſeaſon of youth hardly any thing is ſeen in the true point of viſion, ſo hardly any thing is named in naked ſimplicity; and the very ſenſibility of the feelings is partly a cauſe of the extravagance of the expreſſion. But here as in other points the ſacred writers, par⯑ticularly of the New Teſtament, preſent us with the pureſt models; and its natural and unlaboured ſtyle of expreſſion is perhaps not the meaneſt evidence of the truth of the goſpel. There is throughout the [203]whole narratives, no overcharged cha⯑racter, no elaborate deſcription, nothing ſtudiouſly emphatical, as if truth of itſelf were weak, and wanted to be helped out. There is little panegyric, and leſs invective; none but on great, and awful, and juſti⯑fiable occaſions. The authors record their own faults with the ſame honeſty as if they were the faults of other men, and the faults of other men with as little amplifica⯑tion as if they were their own. There is perhaps no book in which adjectives are ſo ſparingly uſed. A modeſt ſtatement of the fact, with no colouring and little com⯑ment, is the example held out to us for correcting the exuberances of paſſion and of language, by that divine volume which furniſhes us with the ſtill more important rule of faith and ſtandard of practice. Nor is the truth lowered by feebleneſs; for with all this plainneſs there is ſo much force that a few ſimple touches and artleſs ſtrokes of ſcripture characters convey a ſtronger outline of the perſon [204]delineated, than is ſometimes given by the moſt elaborate portrait of more artificial hiſtorians.

If it be objected to this remark that many parts of the ſacred writings abound in a lofty, figurative, and even hyperbolical ſtyle; this objection applies chiefly to the writings of the Old Teſtament, and to the prophetical and poetical parts of that. But this metaphorical and florid ſtyle is diſtinct from the inaccurate and over⯑ſtrained expreſſion we have been cenſuring; for that only is inaccuracy which leads to a falſe and inadequate conception in the reader or hearer. The lofty ſtyle of the Eaſtern, and of other heroic poetry does not ſo miſlead; for the metaphor is under⯑ſtood to be a metaphor, and the imagery is underſtood to be ornamental. The ſtyle of the ſcriptures of the Old Teſtament, are not it is true plain in oppofition to figurative, nor ſimple in oppoſition to florid; but it is plain and ſimple in the beſt ſenſe; it raiſes no falſe idea; it gives [205]an exact impreſſion of the thing it means to convey; and its very tropes and figures, though bold, are never unnatural or af⯑fected. Even when it exaggerates, it does not miſrepreſent; if it be hyperbolical, it is ſo either in compliance with the genius of oriental language, or in com⯑pliance with contemporary cuſtoms, or be⯑cauſe the ſubject is one which will be moſt forcibly impreſſed by a bold figure. The loftineſs of the expreſſion deducts nothing from the truth of the circumſtance, and animates the reader without miſleading him.

CHAP. X. On religion.—The neceſſity and duty of early inſtruction ſhown by analogy with human learning.

IT has been the faſhion of our late inno⯑vators in philoſophy, who have written ſome of the moſt brilliant and popular treatiſes on education, to decry the prac⯑tice of early inſtilling religious knowledge into the minds of children: it has been alleged that it is of the utmoſt importance to the cauſe of truth that the mind of man ſhould be kept free from prepoſſeſſions; and in particular, that every one ſhould be left to form ſuch judgment on religious ſubjects as may ſeem beſt to his own reaſon in maturer years.

This ſentiment has received ſome coun⯑tenance from thoſe, who have wiſhed on [207]the faireſt principle, to encourage free inquiry in religion; but it has been puſhed to the blameable exceſs here cenſured, chiefly by the new philoſophers; who, while they profeſs only an ingenuous zeal for truth, are in fact ſlily endeavouring to deſtroy Chriſtianity itſelf, by diſcounte⯑nancing, under the plauſible pretence of free inquiry, all attention whatever to the religious education of our youth.

It is undoubtedly our duty, while we are inſtilling principles into the tender mind, to take peculiar care that thoſe principles be ſound and juſt; that the religion we teach be the religion of the Bible, and not the inventions of human error or ſuperſti⯑tion: that the principles we infuſe into others, be ſuch as we ourſelves have well ſcrutinized, and not the reſult of our credulity or bigotry; nor the mere here⯑ditary, unexamined prejudices of our own undiſcerning childhood. It may alſo be granted that it is the duty of every parent to inform the youth, that when his facul⯑ties [208]ſhall have ſo unfolded themſelves as to enable him to examine for himſelf thoſe principles which the parent is now inſtilling, it will be his duty ſo to examine them.

But after making theſe conceſſions, I would moſt ſeriouſly inſiſt that there are certain leading and fundamental truths; that there are certain ſentiments on the fide of Chriſtianity, as well as of virtue and benevolence, in favour of which every child ought to be prepoſſeſſed; and may it not be alſo added, that to expect to keep the mind void of all prepoſſeſſion, even upon any ſubject, appears to be altogether a vain and impracticable attempt?

Let it be obſerved here that we are not combating the infidel; that we are not producing evidences and arguments in favour of Chriſtianity, or trying to win over the aſſent of the reader to that which he diſputes; but that we are taking it for granted, not only that Chriſtianity is true, but that we are addreſſing thoſe who [209]believe it to be true. Aſſuming therefore that there are religious principles which are true, and which ought to be communicated in the moſt effectual manner, the next queſtion which ariſes ſeems to be, at what age and in what manner theſe ought to be inculcated? That it ought to be an early period we have both the example and the command of Chriſt; for he himſelf at⯑tended his parents in their annual public devotions at Jeruſalem during his own infancy; and afterwards in his public miniſtration encouragingly ſaid, ‘Suffer little children to come unto me.’

But here conceding for the ſake of argu⯑ment what yet cannot be conceded, that ſome good reaſons may be brought in favour of delay; allowing that ſuch im⯑preſſions as are communicated early, may not be very deep; allowing them even to become totally effaced by the ſubſequent corruptions of the heart and of the world; ſtill I would illuſtrate the importance of early infuſing religious knowledge, by an [210]alluſion drawn from the power of early habit in human learning. Put the caſe, for inſtance, of a perſon who was early initiated in the rudiments of claſſical ſtudies. Suppoſe him after quitting ſchool to have fallen, either by a courſe of idleneſs or of vulgar purſuits, into a total neglect of ſtudy. Should this perſon at any future period happen to be called to ſome pro⯑feſſion, which ſhould oblige him, as we ſay, to rub up his Greek and Latin; his memory ſtill retaining the unobliterated, though faint traces of his early purſuits, he will be able to recover his neglected learn⯑ing with leſs difficulty than he could now begin to learn; for he is not again obliged to fet out with ſtudying the ſimple ele⯑ments; they come back on being pur⯑ſued; they are found on being fearched for; the decayed images aſſume ſhape and ſtrength; he has in his mind firſt prin⯑ciples to which to recur; the rules of grammar which he has allowed himſelf to violate, he has not however forgotten; [211]he will recal neglected ideas, he will reſume ſlighted habits far more eaſily than he could now begin to acquire new ones. I appeal to Clergymen who are called to attend the dying beds of ſuch as have been bred in groſs and ſtupid ignorance of religion, for the juſtneſs of this compariſon. Do they not find that theſe unhappy people have no ideas in common with them? that they poſſeſs no intelligible medium by which to make themſelves underſtood? that the perſons to whom they are addreſſing themſelves have no firſt principles to which they can be referred? that they are ignorant not only of the ſcience, but the language of Chriſtianity?

But at worſt, whatever be the event to the child, though in general we are en⯑couraged, from the tenor of Scripture and the courſe of experience, to hope that that event would be favourable, is it no⯑thing for the parent to have acquitted him⯑ſelf of this prime duty? And will not the [212]parent who ſo acquits himſelf, with better reaſon and more lively hope; ſupplicate the Father of mercies for the reclaiming of a prodigal, who has wandered out of that right path in which he had ſet him forward, than for the converſion of a neglected creature to whoſe feet the Goſpel had never been offered as a light? And how different will be the dying reflections of that parent whoſe earneſt endeavours have been defeated by the ſubſequent and voluntary perverſion of his child, from his who will reaſonably aggravate his pangs by transferring the fins of his neglected child to the number of his own tranſ⯑greſſions.

And to ſuch well-intentioned but ill-judging parents, as really wiſh their chil⯑dren to be hereafter pious, but erroneouſly withhold inſtruction till the more advanced period preſcribed by the great maſter of ſplendid paradoxes ^* ſhall arrive; who [213]can aſſure them that while they are with⯑holding the good ſeed, the great and ever vigilant enemy, who aſſiduouſly ſeizes hold on every opportunity which we neglect, may not be ſtocking the fallow ground with tares? Nay, who in this fluctuating ſcene of things can be aſſured, even if this were not certainly to be the caſe, that to them the promiſed period ever ſhall arrive at all? Who ſhall aſcertain to them that their now neglected child ſhall certainly live to receive the delayed inſtruction? Who can aſſure them that they themſelves will live to communicate it?

It is almoſt needleſs to obſerve that parents who are indifferent about religion, much more thoſe who treat it with ſcorn, are not likely to be anxious on this ſub⯑ject; it is therefore the attention of religious parents which is here chieſly called upon; and the more ſo as there ſeems, on this point, an unaccountable negligence in many of theſe, whether it ariſe from [214]indolence, falſe principles, or whatever other motive.

But independent of knowledge, it is ſomething, nay, let philoſophers ſay what they will, it is much, to give youth pre⯑poſſeſſions in favour of religion, to ſecure their prejudices on its ſide before you turn them adrift into the world; a world in which, before they can be completely armed with arguments and reaſons, they will be aſſailed by numbers whoſe pre⯑poſſeſſions and prejudices, far more than their arguments and reaſons, attach them to the other ſide. Why ſhould not the Chriſt⯑ian youth furniſh himſelf in a good cauſe with the ſame natural armour which the enemies of religion wear in a bad one? Surely to ſet out with ſentiments in favour of the religion of our country, is no more an error or a weakneſs, than to grow up with a fondneſs for our country itſelf. Nay, if the love of our country be judged a fair principle, ſurely a Chriſtian, who is [215]"a citizen of no mean city," may law⯑fully have his attachments too. If pa⯑triotiſm be an honeſt prejudice, Chriſtianity is not a ſervile one. Nay, let us teach the youth to hug his prejudices rather than to acquire that verſatile and accommodat⯑ing citizenſhip of the world, by which he may be an Infidel in Paris, a Papiſt at Rome, and a Muſſulman at Cairo.

Let me not be ſuppoſed ſo to elevate politics, or ſo to depreſs religion, as to make any compariſon of the value of the one with the other, when I obſerve, that between the true Britiſh patriot and the true Chriſtian, there will be this common reſemblance: the more deeply each of them inquires, the more will he be con⯑firmed in his reſpective attachment, the one to his country, the other to his reli⯑gion. I ſpeak with reverence of the im⯑meaſurable diſtance; but the more the one preſſes on the firm arch of our conſtitution, and the other on that of Chriſtianity, the ſtronger he will find them both. Each [216]challenges ſcrutiny; each has nothing to dread but from ſhallow politicians and ſhallow philoſophers; in each intimate knowledge juſtifies prepoſſeſſion; in each inveſtigation confirms attachment.

If we divide the human being into three component parts, the bodily, the intel⯑lectual, and the ſpiritual, is it not reaſonable that a portion of care and attention be aſſigned to each in ſome degree adequate to its importance. Should I venture to ſay a due portion, a portion adapted to the real comparative value of each, would not that condemn in one word the whole ſyſtem of modern education? Yet the rational and intellectual part is avowedly more valuable than the bodily, while the ſpiritual and immortal part exceeds even the intellectual ſtill more than that ſur⯑paſſes what is corporeal. Is it then acting according to the common rules of propor⯑tion? Is it acting on the principles of diſtributive juſtice? Is it acting with that good ſenſe and right judgment with which [217]the ordinary buſineſs of this world is uſually tranſacted, to give the larger pro⯑portion of time and care to that which is worth the leaſt? Is it fair that what relates to the body and the organs of the body, I mean thoſe accompliſhments which addreſs themſelves to the eye and the ear, ſhould occupy almoſt the whole thoughts; that the intellectual part ſhould be robbed of its due proportion, and that the ſpiritual part ſhould have almoſt no proportion at all? Is not this preparing your children for an awful diſappointment in the tremendous day when they ſhall be ſtripped of that body which has been made almoſt the ſole object of their at⯑tention, and ſhall feel themſelves left in poſſeſſion of nothing but that ſpiritual part, which in education was ſcarcely taken into the account of their exiſtence?

Surely it ſhould be thought a reaſonable compromiſe (and I am in fact under⯑valuing the object for the importance of which I plead) to ſuggeſt, that at leaſt [218]two thirds of that time which is now uſurped by externals, ſhould be reſtored to the rightful owners, the underſtanding and the heart; and that the acquiſition of religious knowledge in early youth, ſhould at leaſt be no leſs an object of ſedulous attention than the cultivation of human learning or of outward embelliſhments. It is alſo reaſonable to ſuggeſt, that we ſhould in Chriſtianity, as in arts, ſciences, or languages, begin with the beginning, ſet out with the ſimple elements, and thus "go on unto perfection."

Why in teaching to draw do you begin with ſtrait lines and curves, till by gentle ſteps the knowledge of outline and propor⯑tion be attained, and your picture be com⯑pleted; never loſing ſight however of lines and curves? Why in muſic do you ſet out with the ſimple notes, and purſue the acquiſition through all its progreſs, ſtill in every ſtage recurring to the notes? Why in the ſcience of numbers do you invent the ſimpleſt methods of conveying [219]juſt ideas of computation, ſtill recurring to the tables which involve the funda⯑mental rules? Why in the ſcience of quantity do men introduce the pupil at firſt to the plaineſt diagrams, and clear up one difficulty before they allow another to appear? Why in teaching languages to the youth, do you ſedulouſly infuſe into his mind the rudiments of ſyntax? Why in parſing is he led to refer every word to its part of ſpeech, to reſolve every ſentence into its elements, to reduce every term to its original, and from the firſt caſe of nouns, and the firſt tenſe of verbs, to explain their formations, changes, and de⯑pendencies, till the principles of language become ſo grounded, that by continually recurring to the rules, the ſpeaking and writing correctly are fixed into a habit? Why all this, but becauſe you uniformly wiſh him to be grounded in each of his acquirements? Why, but becauſe you are perſuaded that a ſlight and ſlovenly, and ſuperficial, and irregular way of in⯑ſtruction [220]will never train him to excellence in any thing?

Do young perſons then become mu⯑ſicians, and painters, and linguiſts, and mathematicians, by early ſtudy and regular labour; and ſhall they become Chriſtians by accident? or rather, is not this acting on that very principle of Dogberry, at which you probably have often laughed? Is it not ſuppoſing, that religion, like "reading and writing, comes by Nature?" Shall all thoſe accompliſhments ‘which periſh in the uſing,’ be ſo aſſiduouſly, ſo ſyſtematically taught? Shall all theſe habits be ſo carefully formed, ſo perſiſted in, as to be interwoven with our very make, ſo as to become as it were a part of ourſelves, and ſhall that knowledge which is to make us "wiſe unto ſalvation," be picked up at random, curſorily, or perhaps not picked up at all? Shall that difficult divine ſcience which requires ‘line upon line, and precept upon precept,’ here a little and there a little; which parents [221]even under a darker diſpenſation, were required ‘to teach their children diligently, and to talk of it when they ſat down in their houſe, and when they walked by the way, and when they lay down, and when they roſe up;’ ſhall this knowledge be by Chriſtian parents deferred, or taught ſlightly; or be ſuperſeded by things of little comparative worth?

Shall the lively period of youth, the ſoft and impreſſible ſeaſon when laſting habits are formed, when the ſeal cuts deep into the yielding wax, and the im⯑preſſion is more likely to be clear and ſtrong? Shall this warm and favourable ſeaſon be ſuffered to ſlide by, without being turned to the great purpoſe for which not only youth, but life, and breath, and being were beſtowed? Shall not that ‘faith without which it is impoſſible to pleaſe God;’ ſhall not that ‘holineſs without which no man can ſee the Lord;’ ſhall not that knowledge which is the founda⯑tion of faith and practice; ſhall not that [222]charity without which all knowledge is vain, be impreſſed, be inculcated, be in⯑forced, as early, as conſtantly, as funda⯑mentally, with the ſame earneſt puſhing on to continual progreſs, with the ſame con⯑ſtant reference to firſt principles, as are uſed in the caſe of thoſe arts which merely adorn human life? Shall we not ſeize the happy period when the memory is ſtrong, the mind and all its powers vigor⯑ous and active, the imaginatſon buſy and all alive, the heart flexible, the temper ductile, the conſcience tender, curioſity awake, fear powerful, hope eager, love ardent; for inculcating that knowledge, and impreſſing thoſe principles which are to form the character, and fix the deſtina⯑tion for eternity?

Or, if I may be allowed to addreſs another and a ſtill more dilatory claſs, who are for procraſtinating all concern about religion till we are driven to it by actual diſtreſs, like the ſailor who ſaid ‘he thought it was always time enough [223]to begin to pray when the ſtorm began.’ Of theſe I would aſk, ſhall we, with an un⯑accountable deliberation, defer our anxiety about religion till the man and woman are become ſo immerſed in the cares of life, or ſo entangled in its pleaſures, that they will have little heart or ſpirit to embrace a new principle? a principle whoſe pre⯑ciſe object it will be to condemn that very life into which they have already embarked; nay, to condemn almoſt all that they have been doing and thinking ever ſince they began to act or think? Shall we, I ſay, begin now? or ſhall we ſuffer thoſe in⯑ſtructions, to receive which, requires all the concentrated powers of a ſtrong and healthy mind, to be put off till the day of excruciating pain, till the period of de⯑bility and ſtupefaction? Shall we wait for that ſeaſon, as if it were the moſt favourable for religious acquiſitions, when the ſenſes ſhall have been palled by exceſſive gratification, when the eye ſhall be tired with ſeeing, and the ear with [224]hearing? Shall we, when the whole man is breaking up by diſeaſe or decay, expect that the dim apprehenſion will diſcern a new ſcience, or the obtuſe feelings delight themſelves with a new pleaſure? a pleaſure too, not only incompatible with many of the hitherto indulged plea⯑ſures, but one which carries with it a ſtrong intimation that thoſe pleaſures ter⯑minate in the death of the ſoul.

But, not to loſe ſight of the important analogy on which we have already dwelt ſo much; how prepoſterous would it ſeem to you to hear any one propoſe to an illiterate dying man, to ſet about learning even the plaineſt and eaſieſt rudiments of any new art; to ſtudy the muſical notes; to con⯑jugate an auxiliary verb; to learn, not the firſt problem in Euclid, but even the numeration table; and yet you do not think it abſurd to poſtpone religious in⯑ſtruction, on principles, which, if admitted at all, muſt terminate either in ignorance or in your propoſing too late to a dying [225]man to begin to learn the totally unknown ſcheme of Chriſtianity. You do not think it impoſſible that he ſhould be brought to liſten to the ‘voice of this charmer,’ when he can no longer liſten to ‘the voice of ſinging men and ſinging women.’ You do not think it unreaſonable that immortal beings ſhould delay to devote their days to Heaven, till they have "no pleaſure in them" them⯑ſelves. You will not bring them to offer up the firſt fruits of their lips, and hearts, and lives, to their Maker, becauſe you per⯑ſuade yourſelves that he, who has called himſelf a "jealous God," may however be contented hereafter with the wretched ſacrifice of decayed appetites, and the leav⯑ings of almoſt extinguiſhed affections.

For one cannot believe that there is ſcarcely any one, except he be a decided infidel, who does not conſider religion as at leaſt a good reverſionary thing; as an object which ought always to occupy a little remote corner of his map of life; [226]the ſtudy of which, though it is always to be poſtponed, is however not to be finally rejected; which though it cannot con⯑veniently come in to his preſent ſcheme of life, it is intended ſome how or other to take up before death. This awful de⯑ception ariſes, partly from the bulk which the objects of time and ſenſe acquire in our eyes by their nearneſs; while the inviſible realities of eternity are but faintly diſcerned by a feeble faith, through a dim and diſtant medium; and partly from a totally falſe idea of the nature of Chriſtianity, from a fatal fancy that we can repent at any future period, and that as amendment will always be in our own power, it will be time enough to think of reforming our life, when we ſhould only think of cloſing it.

But depend upon it that a heart long hardened, I do not mean by groſs vices merely, but by a fondneſs for the world, by an habitual and exceſſive indulgence in the pleaſures of ſenſe, is by no means in a favourable ſtate to admit the light of divine [227]truth, or to receive the impreſſions of divine grace. God indeed ſometimes ſhows us by an act of his ſovereignty, that this won⯑derful change, the converſion of a ſinner's heart, may be produced without the in⯑tervention of human means, to ſhow that the work is HIS. But as this is not the way in which the Almighty uſually deals with his creatures, it would be nearly as prepoſterous for men to act on this pre⯑ſumption, as it would be to take no means for the preſervation of our lives, becauſe Jeſus Chriſt raiſed Lazarus from the dead.

CHAP. XI. On the manner of inſtructing young perſons in Religion.—General remarks on the genius of Chriſtianity.

I WOULD now with great deference ad⯑dreſs thoſe reſpectable characters who are really concerned about the beſt intereſts of their children; thoſe to whom Chriſt⯑ianity is indeed an important conſideration, but whoſe habits of life have hindered them from giving it its due degree in the ſcale of education.

Begin then with conſidering that re⯑ligion is a part, and the moſt prominent part, in your ſyſtem of inſtruction. Do not communicate its principles in a random deſultory way; nor ſcantily ſtint this buſi⯑neſs to only ſuch ſcraps and remnants of time as may be caſually picked up from [229]the gleanings of other acquirements. ‘Will you bring to God for a ſacrifice that which coſts you nothing?’ Let the beſt part of the day, which with moſt people is the earlieſt part, be ſteadily and invariably dedicated to this work by your children, before they are tired with their other ſtudies, while the intellect is clear, the ſpirits light, and the attention un⯑fatigued.

Confine not your inſtructions to mere verbal rituals and dry ſyſtems; but inſtruct them in a way which ſhall intereſt their feelings; by lively images, and by a warm practical application of what they read to their own hearts and circumſtances. There ſeems to be no good reaſon that while every other thing is to be made amuſing, religion alone muſt be dry and uninviting. Do not fancy that a thing is good merely becauſe it is dull. Why ſhould not the moſt entertaining powers of the mind be ſupremely conſecrated to that [230]ſubject which is moſt worthy of their full exerciſe? The misfortune is, that religious learning is too often rather conſidered as an act of the memory than of the heart and feelings; and that children are turned over to the dry work of getting by rote as a taſk that which they ſhould get from example and animated converſation. Teach them rather, as their Bleſſed Saviour taught, by intereſting parables, which while they corrected the heart, left ſome exerciſe for the ingenuity in their ſolu⯑tion, and for the feelings in their applica⯑tion. Teach, as HE taught, by ſeizing on ſurrounding objects, paſſing events, local circumſtances, peculiar characters, apt alluſions, juſt analogy, appropriate il⯑luſtration. Call in all creation, animate and inanimate, to your aid, and accuſtom your young audience to

[231]Do, according to your meaſure of ability, what the Holy Spirit which indited the Scriptures has done, always take the ſenſi⯑bility of the learner into your account of the faculties which are to be worked upon. "For the doctrines of the Bible," as the profound and enlightened Bacon obſerves, ‘are not propoſed to us in a naked logical form, but arrayed in the moſt beautiful and ſtriking colours which creation affords.’ By thoſe illuſtrations uſed by Him ‘who knew what was in man,’ and therefore beſt knew how to addreſs him, it was, that the unlettered audiences of Chriſt and his Apoſtles were enabled both to comprehend and to reliſh doctrines, which would not readily have made their way to their underſtandings, had they not firſt touched their hearts; and which would have found acceſs to neither the one nor the other, had they been delivered in dry, ſcholaſtic diſ⯑quiſitions. Now thoſe audiences not being learned, may be ſuppoſed to have [232]been nearly in the ſtate of children, as to their receptive faculties, and to have required nearly the ſame ſort of in⯑ſtruction; that is, they were more capable of being affected with what was ſimple, and touching, and lively, than what was elaborate, abſtruſe, and unaffecting. Heaven and earth were made to furniſh their con⯑tributions when man was to make him wiſe unto ſalvation. If that be the pureſt elo⯑quence which moſt perſuades, then no eloquence is ſo powerſul as that of Scrip⯑ture: and an intelligent Chriſtian teacher will be admoniſhed by the mode of Scrip⯑ture itſelf, how to communicate its truths with life and ſpirit; ‘while he is muſing the fire burns:’ that fire which will preſerve him from an inſipid and freezing mode of inſtruction. He will moreover, like his great maſter, always carefully keep up a quick ſenſe of the perſonal intereſt the pupil has in every religious in⯑ſtruction which is impreſſed upon him. [233]He will teach as Paul prayed, ‘with the ſpirit and with the underſtanding alſo;’ and in imitating this great model he will neceſſarily avoid the oppoſite faults of two different ſorts of inſtructors; for while ſome of our divines of the higher claſs have been too apt to preach as if mankind had only intellect, and the lower and more popular ſort as if they had only paſſions, do you borrow what is good from both, and addreſs your pupils as beings com⯑pounded of both underſtanding and af⯑fections ^*

[234] Fancy not that the Bible is too difficult and intricate to be preſented in its own naked form, and that it puzzles and be⯑wilders the youthful underſtanding. In all needful and indiſpenbſale points of knowledge the darkneſs of Scripture, as a great Chriſtian philoſopher ^* has obſerved, ‘is but a partial darkneſs, like that of Egypt, which benighted only the enemies of God while it left his children in clear day.’ And if it be really the appro⯑priate character of Scripture, as it tells us itſelf that it is, ‘to enlighten the eyes of the blind,’ and ‘to make wiſe the ſimple,’ then is it as well calculated for the youthful and uninformed as for any other claſs; and as it was never expected that the greater part of Chriſtians ſhould be learned, ſo is learning no eſſential quali⯑fication for a common Chriſtian; for which reaſon Scripture truths are ex⯑preſſed with that clear and ſimple evidence [235]adapted to the kind of aſſent which they require. He who could bring an un⯑prejudiced heart and an unperverted will would bring to the Scriptures the beſt qualification for underſtanding and receiv⯑ing them. And though they contain things which the pupil cannot comprehend, (as what ancient poet, hiſtorian, or orator does not,) the teacher may addreſs to him the words which Chriſt addreſſed to Peter, ‘What I do, thou knoweſt not now, but thou ſhalt know hereafter.’

Young people who have been taught religion in a dry and ſuperficial way, who have had all its drudgeries and none of its pleaſures, will probably have acquired ſo little reliſh for it, as to conſider the con⯑tinued proſecution of their religious ſtudies as a badge of their tutelage, as a mark that they are ſtill under ſubjection; and will look forward with impatience to the hour of their emancipation from the lec⯑tures on Chriſtianity. They will long for [236]the period when its leſſons ſhall ceaſe to be delivered; will conclude that, having once attained ſuch an age, and arrived at the required proficiency, the object will be accompliſhed and the labour at an end. But let not your children ‘ſo learn Chriſt.’ Apprize them that no ſpecific day will ever arrive on which they ſhall ſay, I have attained; but inform them, that every acquiſition muſt be followed up; knowledge muſt be increaſed; prejudices ſubdued; good habits rooted; evil ones eradicated; diſpoſitions ſtrengthened; principles confirmed; till, going on from ſtrength to ſtrength, they come ‘to the meaſure of the ſtature of the fulneſs of Chriſt.’

But though ſerious inſtruction will not only be unintereſting but irkſome if con⯑veyed to youth in a mere didactic way, yet if their affections are ſuitably engaged, their hearts, ſo far from neceſſarily revolt⯑ing, as ſome inſiſt they will, often receive [237]the moſt ſolemn truths with alacrity. It is the manner which revolts them, and not the thing.

As it is notorious that men of wit and imagination have been the moſt formidable enemies to Chriſtianity; while men, in whom thoſe talents have been conſecrated to God, have been ſome of her moſt uſeful champions, take particular care to preſs that ardent and ever active power, the imagination, into the ſervice of religion; this bright and buſy faculty will be lead⯑ing its poſſeſſor into perpetual peril, and is an enemy of peculiar potency till it come to be employed in the cauſe of God. It is a lion, which though worldly prudence indeed may chain ſo as to prevent outward miſchief, yet the malignity remains within; but when ſanctified by Chriſtianity, the imagination is a lion tamed; you have all the benefit of its ſtrength and its activity, diveſted of its miſchief. God never be⯑ſtowed that noble but reſtleſs faculty, [238]without intending it to be an inſtrument of his own glory; though it has been too often ſet up in rebellion againſt him; becauſe, in its youthful ſtirrings, while all alive to evil it has not been ſeized upon to fight for its rightful Sovereign, but was early enliſted with little oppoſition under the banners of the world, the fleſh, and the devil. Religion is the only ſubject in which, under the guidance of an holy and ſober-minded prudence, this diſcurſive faculty can ſafely ſtretch its powers and expand its energies. But let it be remem⯑bered that it muſt be a ſound and genuine Chriſtianity which can alone ſo chaſtiſe and regulate the imagination, as to reſtrain it from thoſe errors and exceſſes into which a falſe, a miſtaken, an irregular religion, has too often plunged its inju⯑dicious and ill-inſtructed profeſſor. To ſecure the imagination therefore on the ſafe ſide, and, if I may change the meta⯑phor, to put it under the direction of [239]its true pilot in the ſtormy voyage of life, is like engaging thoſe potent elements, the wind and tide, in your favour.

In your communications with young people, take care to convince them that as religion is not a buſineſs to be laid aſide with the leſſon, ſo neither is it a ſingle branch of duty; ſome detached thing, which like an art or a language is to be practiſed ſeparately, and to have its diſtinct periods and modes of operation. But let them underſtand, that common acts, by the ſpirit in which they are to be performed, are to be made acts of religion: that Chriſtianity may be conſidered as having ſomething of that influence over the conduct which external grace has over the manners; for as it is not the performance of ſome particular act which denominates any one to be graceful, grace being a ſpirit diffuſed through the whole ſyſtem which animates every ſentiment, and informs every action; as ſhe who has true perſonal grace has it uniformly, and [240]is not ſometimes awkward and ſometimes elegant; does not ſometimes lay it down and ſometimes take it up; ſo religion is not an occaſional act, but an indwelling principle, an inwrought habit, a pervading and informing ſpirit, from which indeed every act derives all its life, and energy, and beauty.

Give them clear views of the broad diſcrimination between practical religion and worldly morality. Show them that no good qualities are genuine but ſuch as flow from the religion of Chriſt. Let them learn that the virtues which the better ſort of people, who yet are deſtitute of true Chriſtianity, inculcate and practiſe, reſemble thoſe virtues which have the love of God for their motive, juſt as counterfeit coin reſembles ſterling gold; they may have, it is true, certain points of reſem⯑blance with the others; they may be bright and ſhining; they have perhaps the image and the ſuperſcription, but they ever want the true diſtinguiſhing properties; [241]they want ſterling value, purity, and weight. They may indeed paſs current in the traffic of this world, but when brought to the touchſtone they will be found full of alloy; when weighed in the balance of the ſanctuary, "they will be found wanting;" they will not ſtand that final trial which is to ſeparate the precious from the vile; they will not ‘abide the day of his coming who is like a refiner's fire.’

One error into which even ſome good people are apt to fall, is that of endeavour⯑ing to deceive young minds by temporiſing expedients. In order to allure them to become religious they exhibit falſe, or faint, or inadequate views of Chriſt⯑ianity; and while they repreſent it as it really is, as a life of ſuperior happineſs and advantage, they conceal its difficulties, and like the Jeſuitical Chineſe miſſionaries, extenuate, or ſink, or deny, ſuch parts of it as are leaſt alluring. But beſides that, the project fails with them as it did with the Jeſuits, all fraud is bad; and a pious [242]fraud is a contradiction in terms which ought to be buried in the rubbiſh of papal deſolation.

Inſtead of repreſenting to the young Chriſtian that it may be poſſible by a prudent ingenuity at once to purſue, with equal ardour and ſucceſs, worldly fame and eternal glory, would it not be more honeſt to tell him fairly and unambiguouſly that there are two diſtinct roads, between which there is a broad boundary line? that there are two irreconcileable intereſts; that he muſt forſake the one if he would cleave to the other? that there are two ſorts of characters at eternal variance? that nothing ſhort of abſolute deciſion can make a confirmed Chriſtian? Point out the different ſort of promiſes annexed to theſe different ſorts of characters. Con⯑feſs in the language of Chriſt how the man of the world often obtains (and it is the natural courſe of human things) the recompence he ſedulouſly ſeeks. ‘Verily I ſay unto you they have their reward.’ [243]Explain the beatitudes on the other hand, and unfold what kind of ſpecific reward is there individually promiſed to its concomi⯑tant virtue. Show your pupil that to that "poverty of ſpirit" to which the kingdom of heaven is promiſed, it would be in⯑conſiſtent to expect that the recompence of human commendation ſhould be alſo attached: that to that "purity of heart" to which the beatific viſion is promiſed, it would be unreaſonable to ſuppoſe you can unite the praiſe of licentious wits, or the admiration of a catch club. Theſe will be beſtowed on their appropriate and cor⯑reſponding merits. Do not inliſt them under falſe colours. Different ſorts of rewards are attached to different ſorts of ſervices; and while you truly aſſert that religious ways are ‘ways of pleaſantneſs, and all her paths are peace,’ take care that you do not lead them to depend too excluſively on worldly happineſs and earthly peace, for theſe make no part of the covenant; they may be ſuperadded, [244]but they were never ſtipulated in the contract.

But if, in order to attract the young to a religious courſe, you diſingenuouſly conceal its difficulties, while you are enlarging upon its pleaſures, you will tempt them to diſtruſt the truth of Scripture itſelf. For what will they think, not only of a few detached texts, but of the general caſt and colour of the Goſpel when contraſted with your repreſentation of it? What notion will they conceive of "the ſtrait gate" and "narrow way?" of the amputation of a "right hand?" of the exciſion of a "right eye?" of the other ſtrong meta⯑phors by which the Chriſtian warfare is ſhadowed out? of "crucifying the "fleſh?" of "mortifying the old man?" of "dying unto ſin?" of "overcoming "the world?" Do you not think their meek and compaſſionate Saviour who died for your children loved them as well as you love them? And if this were his language, ought it not to be yours? It is the [245]language of true love; of that love with which a merciful God loved the world, when he ſpared not his own Son. Do not then try to conceal from them, that the life of a Chriſtian is neceſſarily oppoſite to the life of the world; and do not ſeek, by a vain attempt at accommodation, to re⯑concile that difference which Chriſt him⯑ſelf has pronounced to be irreconcileable.

May it not be partly owing to the want of a due introduction to the knowledge of the real nature and ſpirit of religion, that ſo many young Chriſtians, who ſet out in a fair and flouriſhing way, decline and wither when they come to perceive the requiſitions of experimental Chriſtianity? requiſitions which they had not ſuſpected of making any part of the plan.

People are no more to be cheated into religion than into learning. The ſame ſpirit which influences your oath in a court of juſtice ſhould influence your diſcourſe in that court of equity—your family. Your children ſhould be told the truth, the children ſhould be told the truth, the [246]whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It is unneceſſary to add, that it muſt be done gradually and diſcreetly. Ac⯑cuſtom them to reaſon by analogy. Explain to them that great worldly attainments are never made without great ſacrifices; that the merchant cannot become rich without induſtry; the ſtateſman eminent without labour; the ſcholar learned without ſtudy; the hero renowned without danger: would it not then, on human principles, be un⯑reaſonable to think that the Chriſtian alone ſhould obtain a triumph without a warfare? the higheſt prize with the loweſt exertions? an eternal crown without a preſent croſs? and that heaven is the only reward which the idle may reckon upon? No: though ſalvation "be the gift of God," yet it muſt be "worked out." Convince your young friends, however, that in this caſe the diffi⯑culty bears no proportion to the prize; though in one reſpect the point of re⯑ſemblance fail, and that moſt advantage⯑ouſly for the Chriſtian; for while, even [247]by the moſt probable means, which are the union of talents with diligence, no human proſperity can be inſured to the worldly candidate; while the moſt ſucceſs⯑ful adventurer may fail by the fault of another; while the beſt concerted project of the ſtateſman may be cruſhed; the braveſt hero loſe the battle; the brighteſt genius fail of getting bread; and while, moreover, the pleaſure ariſing from ſucceſs in theſe may be no ſooner taſted than it is poiſoned by a more proſperous rival; the perſevering Chriſtian is ſafe and certain of attaining his object; no misfortunes can defeat his hope; no competition can endanger his ſucceſs; for though another gain he will not loſe. Nay, the ſucceſs of another, ſo far from diminiſhing his gain, is an addition to it; the more he diffuſes, the richer he grows; and that mortal hour which cuts off for ever the hopes of worldly men, crowns and conſummates his.

[248] Beware at the ſame time of ſetting up any act of ſelf-denial or mortification as the procuring cauſe of ſalvation. This would be a preſumptuous project to pur⯑chaſe that eternal life which is declared to be the "free gift of God." This would be to ſend your children not to the goſpel to learn their Chriſtianity, but to the Monks and Aſcetics of the middle ages; it would be ſending them to Peter the Hermit, and the holy fathers of the Deſert, and not to Peter the Apoſtle and his Divine Maſter. Mortification is not the price; it is nothing more than the diſ⯑cipline of a foul of which ſin is the diſeaſe, the diet preſcribed by the great phyſician. Without this guard the young devout Chriſtian would be led to fancy that abſtinence, pilgrimage, and penance might be adopted as the cheap ſubſtitute for the ſubdued deſire and the obedient will; and would be almoſt in as much danger on the one hand of ſelf-righteouſneſs ariſing [249]from auſterities and mortification, as ſhe would be on the other from ſelf-gratifica⯑tion in the indulgences of the world. And while you carefully impreſs on her the neceſſity of living a life of ſtrict obe⯑dience if ſhe would pleaſe God, do not neglect to remind her alſo that a complete renunciation of her own performances as a ground of merit, purchaſing the favour of God by their own intrinſic worth, is included in that obedience.

Though it be impoſſible here to enume⯑rate all thoſe Chriſtian virtues which ſhould be impreſſed in the progreſs of a Chriſtian education, yet in this connection I cannot forbear mentioning one which more immediately grows out of the ſub⯑ject; and to remark that the principle which ſhould be the invariable concomitant of all inſtruction, and eſpecially of religious inſtruction, is humility. As this temper is inculcated in every page of the Goſpel; as it is deducible from every precept and every action of Chriſt; that is a [250]ſufficient intimation that it ſhould be made to grow out of every ſtudy, that it ſhould be grafted on every acquiſition. It is the turning point, the leading principle indi⯑cative of the very genius of Chriſtianity. This chaſtiſing quality ſhould therefore be conſtantly made in education to operate as the only counteraction of that ‘know⯑ledge which puffeth up.’ Youth ſhould be taught that as humility is the diſcri⯑minating characteriſtic of our religion, that therefore a proud Chriſtian, a haughty diſciple of a crucified Maſter, furniſhes per⯑haps a ſtronger oppoſition in terms than the whole compaſs of language can exhibit. Humility being the appropriate grace of Chriſtianity, is what makes Chriſtian and Pagan virtues eſſentially different. The virtues of the Romans, for inſtance, were obviouſly founded in pride; as a proof of this, they had not even a word in their copions language to expreſs humility, but what was uſed in a bad ſenſe, and conveyed the idea of meanneſs or vileneſs. Chriſt⯑ianity [251]ſo ſtands on its own ſingle ground, is ſo far from aſſimilating itſelf to the ſpirit of other religions, that, unlike the Roman Emperor, who though he would not become a Chriſtian, yet ordered that the image of Chriſt ſhould be ſet up in the Pantheon with thoſe of the heathen gods, and be worſhipped in common with them, Chriſtianity not only rejects all ſuch partnerſhips with other religions, but it pulls down their images, defaces their temples, founds its own exiſtence on the ruins of ſpurious religions and ſpurious virtues, and will be every thing when it is admitted to be any thing.

Will it be going too much out of the way to obſerve, that Chriſtian Britain retaliates upon Pagan Rome? For if the former uſed humility in a bad ſenſe, has not the latter learnt to uſe pride in a good one? May we without impertinence ven⯑ture to remark, that, in the deliberations of as honourable and upright political aſſemblies as ever adorned, or, under Provi⯑dence, [252]dence, upheld a country; in orations which leave us nothing to envy in Attic or Roman eloquence in their beſt days; it were to be wiſhed that we did not borrow from Rome an epithet which ſuited the genius of her religion, as much as it militates againſt that of ours? The pane⯑gyriſt of the battle of Marathon, of Plataea, or of Zama, might with propriety ſpeak of a "proud day," or a "proud event," or a "proud ſucceſs." But ſurely the Chriſtian encomiaſts of the battle of the Nile may, from their abundance, ſelect an epithet better appropriated to ſuch a victory—a victory which, by preſerving Europe, has perhaps preſerved that religion which ſets its foot on the very neck of pride, and in which the conqueror himſelf, even in the firſt ardors of triumph, forgot not to aſcirbe the victory to ALMIGHTY GOD. Let us leave to the enemy both the term and the thing; arrogant words being the only weapons in which we muſt ever veil to their decided ſuperiority.

[253] Above all things then you ſhould beware that your pupils do not take up with a vague, general, and undefined religion; but look to it that their Chriſtianity be really the religion of Chriſt. Inſtead of ſlurring over the doctrines of the croſs, as diſreputable appendages to our religion, which are to be got over as well as we can, but which are never to be dwelt upon, take care to make theſe your fundamental articles. Do not explain away theſe doctrines, and by ſome elegant periphraſis hint at a Saviour, inſtead of making him the foundation ſtone of your religion. Do not convey primary, and plain, and awful, and indiſpenſable truths elliptically, I mean as ſomething that is to be under⯑ſtood without being expreſſed; nor ſtudy faſhionable circumlocutions to avoid names and things on which our ſalvation hangs, in order to prevent your diſcourſe from being offenſive. Perſons who are thus inſtructed in religion with more good breeding than ſeriouſneſs and ſimplicity, [254]imbibe a diſtaſte for plain ſcriptural lan⯑guage; and the Scriptures themſelves are ſo little in uſe with a certain faſhionable claſs of readers, that when the doctrines and language of the Bible occaſionally occur in other authors, they preſent a ſort of novelty and peculiarity which offend; and ſuch readers as diſuſe the Bible are apt to call that preciſe and puritanical, which is in fact ſound and ſcriptural. Nay, it has ſeveral times happened to the author to hear perſons of ſenſe and learning ridicule inſulated ſentiments and expreſ⯑ſions that have fallen in their way, which they would have treated with decent reſpect had they known them to be, as they really were, texts of Scripture. This ob⯑ſervation is made with a view to enforce the importance of early communicating re⯑ligious knowledge, and of infuſing an early taſte for Scripture phraſeology.

The perſons in queſtion are apt to acquire a kind of Pagan Chriſtianity, which juſt enables them to hear with complacency [255]of the "Deity," of a "firſt cauſe," and of "conſcience." Nay, ſome may even go ſo far as to talk of ‘the Founder of our religion,’ of the "Author of Chriſt⯑ianity," in general terms, as they would talk of the prophet of Arabia, or the law⯑giver of China, of Athens, or of the Jews. But their refined ears revolt not a little at the unadorned name of Chriſt; and even the naked and unqualified term of our Saviour, or Redeemer, carries with it a queeriſh, inelegant, not to ſay a ſuſpicious ſound. They will expreſs a ſerious diſ⯑approbation of what is wrong under the moral term of vice, or the forenſic term of crime; but they are apt to think that the Scripture term of ſin has ſomething fana⯑tical in it: and, while they diſcover a great reſpect for morality, they do not much reliſh holineſs which is indeed the ſpecific morality of a Chriſtian. They will ſpeak readily of a man's reforming, or leaving off a vicious habit, or growing [256]more correct in ſome individual practice; but the expreſſion of a total change of heart, they would ſtigmatize as the very ſhibboleth of a ſect, though it is the lan⯑guage of a Liturgy they affect to admire, and of a goſpel which they profeſs to receive.

CHAP. XII. Hints ſuggeſted for furniſhing young perſons with a ſcheme of prayer.

THOSE who are aware of the ineſtimable value of prayer themſelves, will naturally be anxious not only that this duty ſhould be earneſtly inculcated on their children, but that they ſhould be taught it in the beſt manner; and ſuch parents need little perſuaſion or council on the ſubject. Yet children of decent and orderly (I will not ſay of ſtrictly religious) families are often ſo ſuperficially inſtructed in this important buſineſs, that it is not unuſual when they are aſked what prayers they uſe, to anſwer, ‘the Lord's Prayer and the Creed.’ And even ſome who are better taught, are not always made to underſtand with ſufficient clearneſs the [258]ſpecific diſtinction between the two; that the one is the confeſſion of their faith, and the other the model for their ſup⯑plications. By this confuſed and indiſtinct beginning, they ſet out with a perplexity in their ideas, which is not always com⯑pletely diſentangled in more advanced life.

An intelligent mother will ſeize the firſt occaſion which the child's opening under⯑ſtanding ſhall allow, for making a little courſe of lectures on the Lord's Prayer, taking every diviſion or ſhort ſentence ſeparately; for each furniſhes valuable ma⯑terials for a diſtinct lecture. The child ſhould be led gradually through every part of this divine compoſition; ſhe ſhould be taught to break it into all the regular diviſions, into which indeed it ſo naturally reſolves itſelf. She ſhould be made to comprehend one by one each of its ſhort but weighty ſentences, to amplify and ſpread them out for the purpoſe of better underſtanding them, not in their moſt [259]extenſive, but in their moſt ſimple and obvious meaning. For in thoſe con⯑denſed and ſubſtantial expreſſions, every word is an ingot and will bear beating out; ſo that the teacher's difficulty will not ſo much be what ſhe ſhall ſay as what ſhe ſhall ſuppreſs; ſo abundant is the expoſitory matter which this ſuccinct pattern ſuggeſts.

When the child has a pretty good con⯑ception of the meaning of each diviſion, ſhe ſhould then be made to obſerve the connection, relation, and dependence of the ſeveral parts of this prayer one upon another; for there is great method and connection in it. We pray that the "kingdom of God may come," as the beſt means to "hallow his name;" and that by us, the obedient ſubjects of this kingdom, "his will may be done." A judicious interpreter will obſerve how logically and conſequently one clauſe grows out of another, though ſhe will uſe neither [260]the word logical nor conſequence: for all explanations ſhould be made in the moſt plain and familiar terms, it being words, and not things, which commonly perplex children, if, as it ſometimes happens, the teacher, though not wanting ſenſe, want perſpicuity and ſimplicity.

The young perſon, from being made a complete miſtreſs of this ſhort compo⯑ſition, (which as it is to be her guide and model through life, too much pains cannot be beſtowed on it,) will have a clearer conception, not only of its individual con⯑tents, but of prayer in general, than many ever attain though their memory has been perhaps loaded with long and unexplained forms, which they have been accuſtomed to ſwallow in the lump without ſcrutiny. Prayer ſhould not be ſo ſwallowed. It is a regular preſcription, which ſhould ſtand analyſis and examination: it is not a charm, the ſucceſsful operation of which depends on your blindly taking it, without [261]knowing what is in it, and in which the good you receive is promoted by your ignorance.

I would have it underſtood that by theſe little comments, I do not mean that the child ſhould be put to learn dry, and to her unintelligible expoſitions; and here I muſt remark in general, that the teacher is ſometimes apt to relieve herſelf at the child's expence, by loading the memory of a little creature on occaſions in which far other faculties ſhould be put in exerciſe. The child herſelf ſhould be made to furniſh a good part of the commentary by her anſwers; in which anſwers ſhe will be much aſſiſted by the judgment the teacher uſes in her manner of queſtioning. And the youthful underſtanding, when its powers are properly ſet at work, will ſoon ſtrengthen by exerciſe ſo as to furniſh reaſonable if not very correct anſwers.

Written forms of prayer are not only uſeful and proper, but indiſpenſably ne⯑ceſſary. But I will hazard the remark, [262]that if children are thrown excluſively on the beſt forms, if they are made to commit them to memory like a copy of verſes, and to repeat them in a dry, cuſtomary way, they will produce little effect on their minds. They will not underſtand what they repeat, if we do not early open to them the important ſcheme of prayer. Without ſuch an elementary introduction to this duty, they will afterwards be either ignorant or enthuſiaſts, or both. We ſhould give them knowledge before we can expect them to make much progreſs in piety, and as a due preparative to it: Chriſtian inſtruction in this reſembling the ſun, who, in the courſe of his communica⯑tions, gives light before he gives heat. And to excite a ſpirit of devotion without infuſing that knowledge out of which it is to grow, is practically reviving the popiſh maxim, that Ignorance is the mother of Devotion, and virtually adopting the popiſh rule, of praying in an unknown tongue.

[263] Children, let me again obſerve, will not attend to their prayers if they do not underſtand them; and they will not un⯑derſtand them, if they are not taught to analyſe, to diſſect them, to know their component parts, and to methodiſe them.

It is not enough to teach them to con⯑ſider prayer under the general idea that it is an application to God for what they want, and an acknowledgment for what they have. This, though true in the groſs, is not ſufficiently preciſe and correct. They ſhould learn to define and to arrange all the different parts of prayer. And as a preparative to prayer itſelf, they ſhould be impreſſed with as clear an idea as the nature of the ſubject admits, of ‘HIM with whom they have to do.’ His omnipreſence is perhaps of all his attri⯑butes, that of which we may make the firſt practical uſe. Every head of prayer is founded on ſome great ſcriptural truths, which truths the little analyſis here ſug⯑geſted [264]will materially aſſiſt to fix in their minds.

On the knowledge that "God is," that he is an infinitely holy Being, and that ‘he is the rewarder of all them that diligently ſeek him,’ will be grounded the firſt part of prayer, which is adoration. The creature devoting itſelf to the Creator, or ſelf-dedication, next preſents itſelf. And if they are firſt taught that important truth, that as needy creatures they want help, which may be done by ſome eaſy analogy, they will eaſily be led to underſtand how naturally petition forms a moſt conſiderable branch of prayer: and divine grace being among the things for which they are to petition, this naturally ſuggeſts to the mind the doctrine of the influences of the ſpirit. And when to this is added the conviction, which will be readily worked into an ingenuous mind, that as offending creatures they want pardon, the neceſſity of confeſſion will eaſily be made intelligible [265]to them. But they ſhould be brought to underſtand that it muſt not be ſuch a general and vague confeſſion as awakens no ſenſe of perſonal humiliation, as excites no recollection of their own more peculiar and individual faults. But it muſt be a confeſſion founded on ſelf-knowledge, which is itſelf to ariſe out of the practice of ſelf-examination; for want of this ſort of diſcriminating habit, a well-meaning but ill-inſtructed girl may catch herſelf con⯑feſſing the ſins of ſome other perſon, and omitting thoſe which are more eſpecially her own. On the gladneſs of heart natural to youth, it will be leſs difficult to impreſs the delightful duty of thankſ⯑giving, which forms ſo conſiderable a branch of prayer. In this they ſhould be habituated to recapitulate not only their general, but to enumerate their peculiar, daily, and incidental mercies, in the ſame ſpecific manner as they ſhould have been taught to detail their wants in the petition⯑ary, and their faults in the confeſſional [266]part. The ſame warmth of feeling which will more readily diſpoſe them to expreſs their gratitude to God in thankſgiving, will alſo lead them more gladly to expreſs their love to their parents and friends, by adopting another indiſpenſable, and to an affectionate heart, pleaſing part of prayer, which is interceſſion.

When they have been made, by a plain and perſpicuous mode of inſtruction, fully to underſtand the different nature of all theſe; and when they clearly comprehend that adoration, ſelf-dedication, confeſſion, petition, thankſgiving, and interceſſion, are diſtinct heads, which muſt not be involved in each other, you may exemplify the rules by pointing out to them theſe ſucceſſive branches in any well written form. And they will eaſily diſcern, that aſcription of glory to that God to whom we owe ſo much, and on whom we ſo entirely de⯑pend, is the concluſion into which a Chriſtian's prayer will reſolve itſelf. It is hardly needful to remind the teacher that [267]our truly Scriptural Liturgy invariably furniſhes the example of preſenting every requeſt in the name of the great Mediator. In the Liturgy too they will meet with the beſt exemplifications of prayers, exhibit⯑ing ſeparate ſpecimens of each of the diſtinct heads we have been ſuggeſting.

But in order that the minds of young perſons may, without labour or difficulty, be gradually brought into ſuch a ſtate of preparation as to be benefited by ſuch a little courſe of lectures as we have re⯑commended; they ſhould, from the time when they were firſt able to read, have been employing themſelves at their leiſure hours, in laying in a ſtore of proviſion for their preſent demands. And here the memory may be employed to good purpoſe; for being the firſt faculty which is ripened, and which is indeed perfected when the others are only begin⯑ning to unfold themſelves, this is an intimation of Providence that it ſhould be the firſt ſeized on for the beſt uſes. It [268]ſhould therefore be devoted to lay in a ſtock of the more eaſy and devotional parts of Scripture. The Pſalms alone are an inexhauſtible ſtore-houſe of rich materials. ^* Children whoſe minds have been early well furniſhed from theſe, will be com⯑petent at nine or ten years old to produce from them, and to ſelect with no con⯑temptible judgment, ſuitable examples of all the parts of prayer; and will be able to extract and appropriate texts under each reſpective head, ſo as to exhibit, without help, complete ſpecimens of every part of prayer. By confining them entirely to the ſenſe, and nearly to the words of Scripture, they will be preſerved from [269]enthuſiaſm, from irregularity and conceit. By being obliged continually to apply for themſelves, they will get a habit in all their difficulties, of ‘ſearching the Scrip⯑tures,’ which may be uſeful to them on future and more trying occaſions. But I would confine them to the Bible; for were they allowed with equal freedom to ranſack other books with a view to get helps to embelliſh their little com⯑poſitions, or rather compilations, they might be tempted to paſs off for their own what they pick up from others, which might tend at once to make them both vain and deceitful. This is a tempta⯑tion to which they are too much laid open when they get commended for any pilfered paſſage with which they adorn their little themes and letters. But in the preſent inſtance there is no danger of any ſimilar deception, for there is ſuch a ſacred ſignature ſtamped on every Scripture phraſe, that the owner's name can never [270]be defaced or torn off from the goods, either by fraud or violence.

It would be well, if in thoſe Pſalms which children were firſt directed to get by heart, an eye were had to this their future application; and that they were employed, but without any intimation of your ſubſequent deſign, in learning ſuch as may be beſt turned to this account. In the 139th the firſt great truth to be imprinted on the young heart, as was before obſerved, is unfolded with ſuch a mixture of majeſtic grandeur, and ſuch an intereſting variety of intimate and local circumſtances, as is likely to ſeize on the quick and lively feelings of youth. The awful idea that that Being whom ſhe is taught to reverence, is not only in general "acquainted with all her ways," but that ‘he is about her path, and about her bed,’ beſtows ſuch a ſenſe of real and preſent exiſtence on him of whom ſhe is apt to conceive as having his diſtant [271]habitation only in Heaven, as will help her to realize the ſenſe of his actual preſence.

The 103d Pſalm will open to the mind rich and abundant ſources of expreſſion for gratitude and thankſgiving, and it includes ſpiritual as well as temporal favours. It illuſtrates the mercies of God by familiar and domeſtic images, of ſuch peculiar tenderneſs and endearment, as are calculated to ſtrike upon every chord of filial fondneſs in the heart of an af⯑fectionate child. The 51ſt ſupplies an infinite variety of matter in whatever relates to confeſſion of ſin, or to ſuppli⯑cation for the aids of the ſpirit. The 23d abounds with captivating expreſſions of the protecting goodneſs of their heavenly Father, conveyed by paſtoral imagery of uncommon ſweetneſs: in ſhort the greater part of theſe beautiful compoſitions over⯑flow with materials for every head of prayer.

The child who, while ſhe was engaged in learning theſe Scriptures, was not aware [272]that there was any ſpecific object to be anſwered by it, will afterwards feel an unexpected pleaſure ariſing from the appli⯑cation of her petty labours, when ſhe is called to draw out from her little trea⯑ſury of knowledge the ſtores ſhe has been collecting; and will be pleaſed to find that without any freſh application to ſtudy, for ſhe is now obliged to exerciſe a higher faculty than memory, ſhe has lying ready in her mind, the materials with which ſhe is now called upon to work. Her judg⯑ment muſt be ſet about ſelecting one or two, or more texts which ſhall con⯑tain the ſubſtance of every ſpecific head of prayer before noticed; and it will be a farther exerciſe to her underſtand⯑ing to concatenate the detached parts into one regular whole, occaſionally vary⯑ing the arrangement as ſhe likes; that is, changing the order, ſometimes begin⯑ning with invocation, ſometimes with con⯑feſſion; ſometimes dwelling longer on one part, ſometimes on another. As the [273]hardſhips of a religious Sunday are often ſo pathetically pleaded, as making one of the heavy burdens of religion; and as the friends of religion are ſo often called upon to mitigate its rigours, might not ſuch an exerciſe as has been here ſuggeſted help to vary its occupations?

The habits of the pupil being thus early formed, her memory, attention, and intellect being bent in a right direction, and the exerciſe invariably maintained, may one not reaſonably hope that her affections alſo, through divine grace, may become intereſted in the work, till ſhe will be enabled ‘to pray with the ſpirit and with the underſtanding alſo?’ She will now be qualified to uſe a well-compoſed form with ſeriouſneſs and ad⯑vantage; for ſhe will now uſe it not mechanically, but rationally. That which before appeared to her a mere maſs of good words, will now appear a ſignificant compoſition, exhibiting variety, and order, [274]and beauty; and ſhe will have the farther advantage of being enabled by her im⯑proved judgment to diſtinguiſh and ſelect for her own purpoſe ſuch as are more judicious and more ſcriptural.