A plan for the conduct of female education, in boarding schools, private families, and public seminaries. By Erasmus Darwin, M.D. F.R.S. author of Zoonomia, and of The botanic garden. ; To which are added, Rudiments of taste, in a series of letters from a mother to her daughters. ; Embellished with an elegant frontispiece.

A plan for the conduct of female education, in boarding schools, private families, and public seminaries. By Erasmus Darwin, M.D. F.R.S. author of Zoonomia, and of The botanic garden. ; To which are added, Rudiments of taste, in a series of letters from a mother to her daughters. ; Embellished with an elegant frontispiece.

Table of contents

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§

Title page

DEDICATION.

CONTENTS.

APOLOGY FOR THE WORK.

A PLAN FOR THE CONDUCT OF FEMALE EDUCATION.

SECTION I. THE FEMALE CHARACTER.

SECTION II. MUSIC AND DANCING

SECTION III. READING.

SECTION. IV. WRITING.

SECTION V. GRAMMAR,

SECTION VI. LANGUAGES.

SECTION VII. ARITHMETIC

SECTION VIII. GEOGRAPHY.

SECTION IX. HISTORY.

SECTION X. NATURAL HISTORY.

SECTION XI. THE RUDIMENTS OF TASTE

SECTION XII. DRAWING AND EMBROIDERY.

SECTION XIII. THE HEATHEN MYTHOLOGY

SECTION XIV. POLITE LITERATURE

SECTION XV. ARTS AND SCIENCES.

SECTION XVI. MORALS.

SECTION XVII. COMPASSION.

SECTION XVIII. VERACITY.

SECTION XIX. PRUDENCE, JUSTICE, CHASTITY.

SECTION XX. FORTITUDE.

SECTION XXI. TEMPERANCE.

SECTION XXII. RELIGION.

SECTION XXIII. ADDRESS.

SECTION XXIV. CONVERSATION.

SECTION XXV. EXERCISE.

SECTION XXVI. AIR.

SECTION XXVII. CARE OF THE SHAPE.

SECTION XXVIII. DRESS.

SECTION XXIX. AMUSEMENTS

SECTION XXX. PUNISHMENTS. REWARDS. MOTIVES.

SECTION XXXI. LISPING.

SECTION XXXII. STAMMERING.

SECTION XXXIII. SQUINTING.

SECTION XXXIV. INVOLUNTARY MOTIONS.

SECTION XXXV. SWELLED FINGERS,

SECTION XXXVI. BEDS.

SECTION XXXVII. DIET.

SECTION XXXVIII. ECONOMY.

SECTION XXXIX. SCHOOL-EDUCATION.

SECTION XL. CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

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Title page

PREFACE.

RUDIMENTS OF TASTE.

LETTER I.

LETTER II.

LETTER III.

LETTER IV.

LETTER V.

LETTER VI.

LETTER VII.

LETTER VIII.

LETTER IX.

LETTER X.

LETTER XI.

LETTER XII.

LETTER XIII.

LETTER XIV.

LETTER XV.

LETTER XVI.

LETTER XVII.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY J. ORMROD, No. 41, Chesnut-street.

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§

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Delightful task! to watch with curious eyes

Soft forms of Thought in infant bosoms rise.

Plant with nice hand Reflection's tender root.

And teach the young Ideas how to shoot!

§

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A PLAN FOR THE CONDUCT OF Female Education, IN BOARDING SCHOOLS, PRIVATE FAMILIES, AND PUBLIC SEMINARIES.

By Erasmus Darwin, M.D. F.R.S. Author of Zoonomia, and of the Botanic Garden.

TO WHICH ARE ADDED, RUDIMENTS OF TASTE, IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM A MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTERS.

Embellished with an elegant Frontispiece.

PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED BY JOHN ORMROD, No. 41, Chesnut-street. 1798.

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DEDICATION.

TO the parents and guardians, who are solicitous about the education of their female wards, and daughters, —to the governesses of schools instituted for female tuition,—to the teachers of young ladies in private families, and public seminaries,—this small work is with all due respect presented

BY THE AUTHOR.

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CONTENTS.

Section

I. THE FEMALE CHARACTER.

II. MUSIC AND DANCING.

III. READING.

IV. WRITING.

V. GRAMMAR.

VI. LANGUAGES. PHYSIOGNOMY.

VII. ARITHMETIC. CARD-PLAYING.

VIII. GEOGRAPHY.

IX. HISTORY.

X. NATURAL HISTORY.

XI. RUDIMENTS OF TASTE. BEAUTY. GRACE.

[Page] XII. DRAWING AND EMBROIDERY. PERSPECTIVE.

XIII. HEATHEN MYTHOLOGY.

XIV. POLITE LITERATURE. NOVELS.

XV. ARTS AND SCIENCES.

XVI. MORALS.

XVII. COMPASSION.

XVIII. VERACITY.

XIX. PRUDENCE. JUSTICE. CHASTITY.

XX. FORTITUDE. BASHFULNESS.

XXI. TEMPERANCE.

XXII. RELIGION.

XXIII. ADDRESS.

XXIV. CONVERSATION.

XXV. EXERCISE. DUMB BELLS.

XXVI. AIR. BED-ROOMS. FIRE-GRATES.

XXVII. CARE OF THE SHAPE. COLD BATH.

[Page] XXVIII. DRESS. EAR-RINGS. POWDER.

XXIX. AMUSEMENTS. CHESS.

XXX. PUNISHMENTS. REWARDS. MOTIVES.

XXXI. LISPING.

XXXII. STAMMERING.

XXXIII. SQUINTING.

XXXIV. INVOLUNTARY MOTIONS.

XXXV. SWELLED FINGERS, AND KIBED HEELS.

XXXVI. BEDS. RHEUMATISM.

XXXVII. DIET. NEW MILK.

XXXVIII. ECONOMY.

XXXIX. SCHOOL-EDUCATION, USES OF.

XL. CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

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APOLOGY FOR THE WORK.

THE following treatise was written at the desire of Miss S. and Miss M. Parker; who were themselves educated for the purpose of educating others; and on that account were originally placed in different seminaries for female tuition; and afterwards engaged themselves for a time as teachers in other schools, and in private families; the better to qualify themselves for the arduous task of conducting a boarding school for the education of young ladies.

[Page] About four years ago a house was offered for sale at Ashborne in Derbyshire, at the very extremity of the town, in a most pleasant and healthy situation, on a dry sandy soil, with excellent water, well sheltered from the north-east, and commanding an extensive prospect of Sir Brooke Boothby's park, and its beautiful environs.

A spacious walled garden adjoins the house, at the bottom of which is a stream of water, which may sometime be converted into a river-bath.

Miss PARKERS procured this eligible situation, and had the house well fitted up for the purposes of a boarding school. It consists of an ample school-room, and an ample dining-room, and four smaller parlours, [Page]on the principal floor; with two stair-cases, one of which is of stone. The whole is airy and well lighted; and now contains about thirty pupils without being crowded.

They next had the good fortune to engage very excellent teachers in dancing, music, and drawing, from Nottingham, Derby, &c. with a polite emigrant as French master; and lastly applied to me for any ideas, I could furnish them with, on the subject of female education. And now, as their establishment has succeeded to their utmost wish, have expressed a desire, that I would give to the public, what I wrote originally for their private inspection.

[Page] I have only to add, that a copy of the manuscript has been seen by many of the ingenious of both sexes, and much improved by their observations; to whom I here beg leave to return my most grateful acknowledgments.

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A PLAN FOR THE CONDUCT OF FEMALE EDUCATION.

SECTION I. THE FEMALE CHARACTER.

THE PARENTS and guardians of young ladies of the last half century were less solicitous about procuring for them so extensive an education, as modern refinement requires. Hence it happens, that female education has not yet been reduced to a perfect system; but is frequently directed by those, who have not themselves had a good education, or who have not studied the subject with sufficient attention. And tho' many ingenious remarks are to be [Page]found in the works of Locke, Rousseau, Genlis, and other writers still more modern; yet few of them are exactly applicable to the management of boarding schools; the improvement of which is the intent of the present treatise.

The advantages of a good education consist in uniting health and agility of body with cheerfulness and activity of mind; in superadding graceful movements to the former, and agreeable tastes to the latter; and in the acquirement of the rudiments of such arts and sciences, as may amuse ourselves, or gain us the esteem of others; with a strict attention to the culture of morality and religion.

The female character should possess the mild and retiring virtues rather than the bold and dazzling ones; great eminence in almost any thing is sometimes injurious to a young lady; whose temper and disposition should appear to be pliant rather than [Page]robust; to be ready to take impressions rather than to be decidedly marked; as great apparent strength of character, however excellent, is liable to alarm both her own and the other sex; and to create admiration rather than affection.

There are however situations in single life; in which, after the completion of their school-education, ladies may cultivate to any extent the fine arts or the sciences for their amusement or instruction. And there are situations in a married state; which may call forth all the energies of the mind in the care, education, or provision, for a family; which the inactivity, folly, or death of a husband may render necessary. Hence if to softness of manners, complacency of countenance, gentle unhurried motion, with a voice clear and yet tender, the charms which enchant all hearts! can be superadded internal strength and activity of mind, capable to transact the business or combat the evils of life; [Page]with a due sense of moral and religious obligation; all is obtained, which education can supply; the female character becomes complete, excites our love, and commands our admiration.

Education should draw the outline, and teach the use of the pencil; but the exertions of the individual must afterwards introduce the various gradations of shade and colour, must illuminate the landscape, and fill it with the beautiful figures of the Graces and the Virtues.

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SECTION II. MUSIC AND DANCING

ARE generally taught by masters, who profess those arts; concerning which we shall only observe, that they are frequently believed to be of too great importance in female education; and on that account that too much time is expended on their acquirement. It is perhaps more desirable, that young ladies should play, sing, and dance, only so well as to amuse themselves and their friends, than to practise those arts in so eminent a degree as to astonish the public; because a great apparent attention to trivial accomplishments is liable to give a suspicion, that more valuable acquisitions have been neglected. And, as they consist in an exhibition of the person, they are liable to be attended with vanity, and to extinguish the blush of youthful timidity; which is in young ladies the most powerful of their exterior charms.

[Page] Such masters should be chosen to instruct young ladies in these accomplishments, as are not only well qualified to sing and play, or to dance themselves; but also who can teach with good temper and genteel behaviour: they should recollect, that vulgar manners, with the sharp gestures of anger, and its disagreeable tones of voice, are unpardonable in those, who profess to teach graceful motion, and melodious expression; and may affect the taste and temper of their pupils, so as to be more injurious to their education; than any thing, which they are able to teach them, can counterbalance.

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SECTION III. READING.

AS reading is as much a language to the eye, as speaking is to the ear; it requires much time and labour for children to acquire both these languages. Such books should therefore be put into their hands, as join amusement with instruction, and thus lighten the fatigue of continued application, as Sandford and Merton, Parent's assistant, Evenings at home, and many others.

In learning to read aloud, a clear and distinct enunciation is seldom acquired at schools; which is owing to the child standing close to the teacher, who looks over the book along with it; and hence the pupil finds no difficulty in being understood, even when she pronounces only half words. This however is easily remedied by placing the reader at the distance of [Page]two yards or more from the hearer; then the young scholar soon finds, that she is not understood, unless she expresses herself with clear articulation. For this purpose the teacher should always be provided with a duplicate of the book, she teaches; that she may not be necessitated to look over the shoulder of her pupil.

As the young scholars advance in the knowledge of language, other books must be taught them both in prose and poetry; such as may improve their minds in the knowledge of things, in morality, religion, or which may form their taste. A great number of books for the use of children has been published in late years; many of them by very ingenious writers, and well adapted to the purpose designed, of such of these, as have come to my knowledge, a catalogue shall be given at the end of this treatise.

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SECTION. IV. WRITING.

WRITING, as it keeps the body in a fixed posture, as well as drawing, and needlework, should not be too long applied to at a time; since the body, and even the countenance, may thus get a certain tendency to one attitude; as is seen in children, who are brought up to some mechanic art, as in polishing buttons or precious stones on a lathe. A proper manner of holding the pen, or pencil, or needle, with an easy but graceful attitude of the person, and an agreeable moderate attention of the countenance, should first be taught; for which purposes an inclined desk has many advantages over an horizontal table for the books, or working frames; as the body is thence less bent forwards; and the light in general situations more vividly reflected to the eye.

[Page] If the desk be sixteen inches broad, the furthermost edge of it should rise about three inches and half from the horizontal line; which produces the most convenient inclination, and the table or frame, which supports it, for the use of the taller children, should rise about two feet eight inches from the ground.

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SECTION V. GRAMMAR,

WHICH is an abstract science teaching the texture of language, is too hard for very young minds; and is therefore generally taught too early: and the same may be said of Arithmetic. The English grammars in general use at schools are both tedious and defective compositions; an epitome, or extract, from Lowth's grammar, with the late improvements of Mr. Horne Tooke in the theory of language, would well supply this branch of knowledge; and might be given to the public under the name of a "rational English grammar."

Mrs. Devis has published a small and useful rudiment of grammar purposely for the use of young ladies: which may be taught as an introduction to Lowth's grammar. The Abbe Gaultier's Jeu de [Page]Grammaire may perhaps be rendered amusing to children, and convey to them ideas of the French grammar.

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SECTION VI. LANGUAGES.

THE necessity of learning some antient or foreign languages imposes a laborious task on the youth of both sexes; which consumes years of their precious time, which might otherwise be employed in the acquisition of sciences. The difficulty of obtaining a competent knowledge of the Greek or Latin language is many times greater than that of obtaining any modern one; as may be deduced from the innumerable changes of the termination of their nouns, adjectives, and verbs; which to a beginner are all so many new words. And as the works of the best writers in these languages have been translated into our own, it is less necessary in the education of ladies to expend so much time and labour in acquiring them. But as the French and Italian are less difficult to learn, and contain new books of taste and knowledge, [Page]which are yearly published in this age of literature; and as they are convenient for conversing with foreigners, who come hither, or in our travelling into other countries; and lastly, as they are agreeable as well as fashionable studies; the pupils of boarding schools should be encouraged to attain one or both of them.

The method recommended by Mr. Locke in his treatise on education, sect. 162, of teaching languages by conversation, will on trial be generally found successful in respect to modern languages with even the youngest children. Nevertheless a knowledge of grammar should afterwards be taught with care, if the child be too young at first to attend to it; for without the aid of grammar not only the French or Italian languages, but even the English will not always be spoken or written with perfect accuracy.

For this purpose of acquiring modern languages by conversation, a school generally [Page]supplies better opportunities than a private family, besides the advantage of some degree of emulation, which frequently exists, where children converse together: another advantage of infantine society is, that they learn many other things, as well as languages, by repeating them to each other; and obtain, what is seldom to be acquired from adult companions, some knowledge of physiognomy; as the passions of children are more legibly expressed on their countenances than at a maturer age. This knowledge of physiognomy, which is perhaps only to be acquired at schools, by giving a promptitude of understanding the present approbation or dislike, and the good or bad designs, of those whom we converse with, becomes of hourly use in almost every department of life.

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SECTION VII. ARITHMETIC

LIKE grammar is an abstract science, which is frequently attempted to be taught too early; at the same time it may be observed, that the early initiation of most children into card playing before they come to school, by giving clear and visible ideas of the ten first numerals, seems greatly to facilitate their acquirement of arithmetic; and if this fashionable amusement could be so managed by the parents, who allow it to their children, as not to excite a desire of gain along with a contest of ingenuity, it might be rendered, in some measure, advantageous by exciting the mind to activity in this branch of science; but in nevertheless not proper to be used in schools, where its effects on the passions cannot be sufficiently watched, and counteracted.

So much of the science of numbers as is in common use, as the numeration, subtraction, [Page]multiplication, and division of money, should be learnt with accuracy; to which should be added the rule of three, and decimal fractions; which will abundantly repay the labour of acquiring them by the pleasure and utility, which will perpetually result from the knowledge of them thro' life. The higher parts of arithmetic, as algebra and fluxions, belong to the abstruser sciences.

There are many introductory books to the science of arithmetic; those I have heard most recommended are Vise's tutor's guide, Hutton's practical arithmetic, and Wingate's arithmetic; but it is probable, that most of the introductory treatises to arithmetic must be nearly of equal excellence.

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SECTION VIII. GEOGRAPHY.

SO much of this science, as depends only on memory, may be taught to children in their early years. They should be taught to point out on large maps the counties of England, and then the principal divisions of Europe, and of the other quarters of the world; and lastly to trace out the principal rivers and mountains, which ingrave or imboss its surface, which is much to be preferred to dissected maps; as it is the situations, rather than the exact forms of counties and of countries, which should be attended to. Afterwards the use of the globes should be explained; and some short outline of astronomy ought to accompany these lectures.

A compendious system of geography on cards, published by Mr. Newberry, in St. Paul's church yard, supplies a very convenient [Page]method of instructing children. Other geographical cards by Bowles, tho' they only mention the latitude and longitude of important places, may also be used with advantage. The maps, published by Mr. Faden, which have blank outlines to be filled up by the student, are well designed, and not very expensive. The Abbe Gaultier's cours de Geographie formed into a game may, like his game at grammar, be rendered amusing to children, and are tolerably well adapted both to private families, where there are but few pupils, and to public seminaries of instruction.

Fairman's geography, a small octavo sold by Johnson, contains a short account of the planets, and use of the globes. Brooks' gazetteer is an useful work; and some other good geographical publications are mentioned in the catalogue of books at the end of this work.

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SECTION IX. HISTORY.

THE history of mankind is connected with the knowledge of the earth, which they cultivate. A summary of the history of England should precede that of other nations, as it may be more interesting, and more easily comprehended by English children. Afterwards an abridgment of the history of other nations both antient and modern may be collected from various writers, but are some of them already made concise and agreeable by Dr. Goldsmith in his histories of Greece and Rome, as well as of England and Scotland; which however cannot be well remembered without a previous knowledge of geography, or by consulting maps with every change of place in the account of transactions.

Afterwards a brief, but correct knowledge of history still more ancient, and of [Page]chronology, comprehending the four great empires of the world, with the rise of the present kingdoms of Europe from the fall of the last, may be acquired according to the plan of Mrs. Chapone in her letters on the improvement of the mind. This outline of history and chronology may be readily and agreeably learned from Priestley's chart of history; which with his chart of biography should hang amongst a collection of large well-coloured maps in the parlour of a boarding school, that they may frequently encounter the eyes of the young students.

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SECTION X. NATURAL HISTORY.

THE history of the various other animals is also connected with our knowledge of the various parts of the earth, which they inhabit. This is termed natural history, and may be taught to children earlier than the histories of mankind, as being easier to their comprehensions, and thence more interesting and agreeable to them. Dr. Goldsmith in his history of animated nature has also made this part of knowledge of easy access; and Mr. Bewick's account of quadrupedes, with woodprints of the animals, and amusing talepieces to the sections, are quite charming to children. To these should be added a treatise on birds, with the scientific names admirably adapted for the use of schools by Mr. Galton, published by Johnson in St. Paul's church yard, London, in three small volumes. And besides these, children [Page]should be permitted occasionally to inspect the collections of foreign animals, which are frequently exhibited in this country; as an examination of the objects themselves conveys clearer ideas than prints and descriptions, and at the same time adds to their knowledge, and gratifies their curiosity.

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SECTION XI. THE RUDIMENTS OF TASTE

ARE too much neglected in most boarding schools; these should be taught with some care, as perhaps peculiarly belonging to Ladies; since taste enters into their dress, their motions, their manners, as well as into all the fine arts, which they have leisure to cultivate: as drawing, painting, modelling, making artificial flowers, embroidery; writing letters, reading, speaking, and into almost every circumstance of life.

The general rudiments of taste are to be acquired first by reading books, which treat professedly on the subject; as the ten papers by Mr. Addison on the power of imagination in the Spectator, vol. 6, No. 411; Akinside's pleasures of imagination; Burke on the sublime and beautiful; Hogarth's analysis of beauty; Mason's English [Page]garden; Wheatley's ornamental gardening; and Gilpin's picturesque views. Secondly by selecting and explaining admired passages from classical authors, as the Beauties of Shakespeare, of Johnson, and of Sterne. And lastly, by exhibiting and explaining the prints of beautiful objects, or casts of the best antique gems and medallions.

The authors above mentioned have divided the objects of Taste into the sublime, the beautiful, and the new; but a new sect of inquirers into this subject have lately added the Picturesque; which is supposed to differ from the beautiful by its want of smoothness, and from the sublime from its want of size; but this circumstance has not yet perhaps undergone sufficient examination.—See essay on Picturesque, by U. Price.

Others have endeavoured to make a distinction between beauty and grace; and [Page]have esteemed them, as it were, rivals for the possession of the human heart. But Grace may be defined Beauty in action; for a sleeping beauty can not be called graceful, in whatever attitude she may recline; the muscles must be in action to produce a graceful attitude, and the limbs to produce a graceful motion. The supposed origin of our ideas of beauty acquired in our early infancy from the curved lines, which form the female bosom, is delivered in Zoonomia, vol. I. sect. xvi. 6; but is too metaphysical an investigation for young ladies.

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SECTION XII. DRAWING AND EMBROIDERY.

DRAWING as an elegant art belongs to the education of young ladies, and greatly facilitates the acquirement of Taste. As this is generally taught by masters, who profess it, I shall only observe, that tho' as an art it consists of deceiving the eye, yet as a science it is capable of producing to the mind the most sublime and beautiful images, or the most interesting scenes of life, for our amusement, admiration, or instruction.

The same observation applies to Embroidery, which is painting with the needle instead of the pencil, and seems to have been a fashionable employment of ladies of the highest rank in the early ages of the world. As the ladies in polite life have frequently much leisure time at their disposal, it is wise for them to learn many [Page]elegant as well as useful arts in their early years; which they may afterward cultivate for their amusement; and thus deprive solitude of irksomeness: And by being able to entertain themselves, they may be less solicitous to enter the circles of dissipation, and depend less for happiness on the caprice of others.

Besides the amusement or accomplishment of possessing the talent of drawing, there is another advantage resulting from it; which consists in using the pencil as a language to express the forms of all visible objects, as of flowers, machines, houses, landscapes; which can not in words alone be conveyed to others with sufficient accuracy: For this end it may be sufficient to draw in outlines alone the figures of natural things, without expending so much time on this art, as is requisite to enable the learner to add the nice touches, which form the delicate gradations of shade and colour.

[Page] It may be supposed, that some knowledge of the science of perspective should be previously acquired for the purpose of drawing the outlines of objects; but I suspect, that this is not always necessary, since at our learning to see; before we have compared the ideas received by the sense of sight with those received by that of touch; any object placed before our eyes, as suppose the face of a companion, must appear a flat coloured or shaded surface, and not a solid substance covered with eminences and depressions; as is so well proved by Bishop Berkley in his theory of vision. Hence if any one could so far unlearn the language of sight as to imagine the face of his companion to be a flat coloured surface only, (as it is really seen) he would draw from nature as easily and exactly, as if he was copying a picture, as the inequalities would appear lights and shades; and he would thus be enabled to take the likeness with much greater facility and accuracy without the aid of the rules of perspective.

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SECTION XIII. THE HEATHEN MYTHOLOGY

IS connected with the study of taste, and should therefore be taught in boarding schools; as without some knowledge of it the works of the painters, statuarists, and poets, both antient and modern, can not be understood. But as a great part of this mythology consists of personified vices, much care should be taken in female schools, as well as in male ones, to prevent any bad impressions, which might be made on the mind by this kind of erudition; this is to be accomplished by explaining the allegorical meaning of many of these supposed actions of heathen deities, and by shewing that they are at present used only as emblems of certain powers, as Minerva of wisdom, and Bellona of war, and thus constitute the language of painters; and are indeed almost the whole language which that art possesses, besides the delineation of visible objects in rest or in action.

[Page] These emblems however are not to be so easily acquired by descriptions alone, nor so easily remembered by young pupils; as when prints of antique statues, or medallions, or when cameos, or impressions of antique gems, are at the same time shewn and explained to them. For this purpose the prints of Spence's Polymetis may be exhibited and explained; from which Bell's pantheon is principally taken: And Dannet's dictionary of mythology, originally written in French, may be occasionally consulted; and the notes on Mr. Pope's translations of Homer.

There is also a little book intitled, "Instructions sur les Metamorphoses, par M. Le Ragois," which, I am informed is an useful and unexceptionable work for this purpose, containing a kind of summary of each story of fabulous mythology: to which may be added a translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, published by Garth; which I am told, is the [...] [Page]work. Much agreeable knowledge of this kind is to be found in Byrant's mythology; Abbe de Pluche's history of the heavens; Warburton's essay on Eleusinian mysteries; to which I beg leave to add the description of the Portland vase in the notes to the first volume of the Botanic garden.

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SECTION XIV. POLITE LITERATURE

MAY be divided into dissertations, plays, romances, poems; each of which, if the works are properly selected, may afford amusement and instruction to young persons; of some of the books of each of these classes of literature a catalogue will be given at the end of the work.

Such dissertations, as have been generally admired, may be selected from the Spectator, Tatler, Guardian, the World, the Rambler, Adventurer, Looker-on, besides many others.

Plays are of three kinds, tragical, sentimental, and humourous; of the first, Addison's Cato has been long admired; and the tragedies of Thompson consist of fine language. Of the second kind Cumberland's comedies are instances; and of the [Page]third Sheridan's comedies; some of which are entertaining and inoffensive, and may be read by young ladies without injury to their morals, or much outrage to their feelings.

There are many plays, which are better seen as exhibited on the stage, than as read in the closet; because the objectionable passages are generally omitted in the representation. But whether young ladies should be taught to act plays themselves, as is done at some boy's schools, is a matter of doubt. The danger consists in this, lest the acquisition of bolder action, and a more elevated voice, should annihilate that retiring modesty, and blushing embarrassment, to which young ladies owe one of their most powerful external charms.

If young ladies act plays amongst themselves only, or without admitting more than two or three of their friends or parents; [Page]or if they repeat chosen scenes of plays, or speeches only, much of the above objection ceases, and some advantages may result to their attitudes or enunciation. Madam de Genlis' Theatre d'Education affords the least exceptionable whole plays, with the sacred dramas of Miss Moore, and of Metastasio.

3. Novels or romances may be divided into the serious, the humourous, and the amorous. Of these, the last should be intirely interdicted; but the first, when well managed, may convey instruction in the most agreeable and forcible manner: Such as Mr. Day's Sandford and Merton. The Children's Friend. Tales of the Castle. Robinson Crusoe. Edward, by the author of Zelucco. And to these may be added some other modern novels, the productions of ingenious ladies, which are I believe less objectionable than many others; as the Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla of Miss Burney. The Emmeline [Page]and Ethelinda of Charlotte Smith; Inchbald's simple story; Mrs. Brook's Emily Montague; and the female Quixote; all which I have here introduced from the character given to me of them by a very ingenious lady; not having myself read them with sufficient attention. And lastly, the humorous novels, which are not written to inflame the passions, convey instruction, as far as they are imitations of real life: Of these are Le Sage's famous novel of Gil Blas; and Fielding's Tom Jones; neither of which however are proper books for young readers.

There are many, who condemn the use of novels altogether; but what are epic poems but novels in verse?—It is difficult to draw the line of limit between novels, and other works of imagination; unless the word novel be confined to mean only the romances of love and chivalry.

It is true indeed, that almost all novels, as well as plays, and epic poems, have some [Page]exceptional passages to be found in them; which might therefore be expunged, before they are allowed to be read by young ladies. But are young women therefore to be kept in intire ignorance of mankind, with whom they must shortly associate, and from whom they are frequently to choose a partner for life? This would be making them the slaves rather than the companions of men, like the Sultanas of a Turkish Seraglio. And how can young women, who are secluded from the other sex from their infancy, form any judgment of men, if they are not to be assisted by such books, as delineate manners?—A lady of fortune, who was persuaded by her guardian to marry a disagreeable and selfish man, speaking to her friend of the ill humour of her husband, lamented, that she had been prohibited from reading novels. ‘If I had read such books, said she, before I was married, I should have chosen better; I was told, that all men were alike except in respect to fortune.’

[Page] We must however observe, that novels are perhaps more objectionable in schools than in private education; as the comments of one bad mind may be dangerous to the whole community: And as they are more amusing to young people than any other books, if read too early, they may give a distaste to more useful knowledge; which are good reasons for the total prohibition of them in schools: And in private education, lest a preference of fiction to truth should be thus instilled, the ridiculous passages, with which even the best novels abound, should be carefully pointed out by a friend or governess: with their exaggerations, improbabilities, and frequent deviations from nature.

There are indeed few books, which delineate manners, whether in prose or poetry, however well chosen, which have not some objectionable passages in them. In reading the fables of Esop, Mr. Rousseau well observes, that the effect [Page]on the mind may frequently be totally different from that designed by the author; as in the fable where the fox flatters the crow, and gains the piece of cheese, the moral was designed to shew the folly of attending to flatterers; but may equally be supposed to applaud the cunning of the fox or flatterer, who is rewarded. In the popular narrative of Robinson Crusoe a childish superstition concerning intimations of future events, somewhat like the second sight of the highlands of Scotland, is frequently inculcated; and the use of rum or brandy is proposed as an infallible cure in all maladies; which however I am told is corrected in the new Robinson Crusoe.

Pamela, and Joseph Andrews, and Clarissa Harlow, are recommended by Madame de Genlis, and by Mrs. Macawley.— Madame de Genlis in a note in one of her works gives her reason for recommending Richardson's novels; because his heroines [Page]retain a more considerable degree of command over their affections than those of apparently less exceptionable romances. In this respect a novel called "Plain Sense," lately published by Lane, and written by an ingenious Cheshire lady, claims the preference to all others, and appears to me to carry this idea to excess.

The works of Richardson are nevertheless not only too voluminous, and thence would consume too much time, which might be better employed in schools: but in these, and even in Mr. Pope's rape of the lock, and his Eloisa to Abelard, many objectionable passages of another kind may be discovered. If these passages, from which so few books are totally exempt, were expunged, it might raise curiosity, and induce young people to examine different copies of the same work, and to seek for other improper books themselves; it is therefore perhaps better, when these books are read to a governess, that [Page]she should express disapprobation in a plain and quiet way, of such passages, rather than to expunge them; which would give a feeling of dislike to the pupil, and confirm her delicacy, rather than give impurity to her ideas.

Much therefore depends on the conduct of the governess in this respect, so long as they are under the eye of a judicious monitor, no real harm could probably arise from their seeing human nature in all the classes of life, not only as it should be, or as it may be imagined to be, but as it really exists, since without comparison there can be no judgment, and consequently no real knowledge.

It must nevertheless be observed, that the excessive study of novels is universally an ill employment at any time of life; not only because such readers are liable to acquire a romantic taste; and to return from the flowery scenes of fiction to the common [Page]duties of life with a degree of regret; but because the high-wrought scenes of elegant distress displayed in novels have been found to blunt the feelings of such readers towards real objects of misery; which awaken only disgust in their minds instead of sentiments of pity or benevolence.

4. The works of the poets, as well as those of the writers of novels, require to be selected with great caution. The same may be said of painting, sculpture, and music; which by delighting the imagination influence the judgment, and may thence be employed either to good or bad purposes: But as poetry, when thus selected, like painting, sculpture, and music, its rival sisters, is an object of refined taste, and affords an elegant amusement at least, it so far belongs to the education of young ladies.

Gay's fables, Thomson's seasons, Gisborne's walk in a forest, are proper for the [Page]younger classes of pupils; afterwards Pope's Ethic epistles, and essay on man, Gold-smith's poems, Akinside, Mason, Gray, and others, which are enumerated in the catalogue. I forbear to mention the Botanic garden; as some ladies have intimated to me, that the Loves of the plants are described in too glowing colours; but as the descriptions are in general of female forms in graceful attitudes, the objection is less forcible in respect to female readers. And besides the celebrated poets of our own country, as Milton and Shakespeare, translations from the antients, as from Homer and Virgil; and from the more modern poems of Tasso, and Camoens, may be read with pleasure and improvement, tho' some objectionable passages may perhaps be found in all of them.

5. For the purpose of forming a style in writing, a few well-chosen books should be read often over; till the ear acquires, as it were, the musick of the sentences; [Page]and the imagination is thus enabled to copy it in our own compositions; such as those papers of the Spectator, which are ascribed to Addison, and are terminated with a capital letter of the word Clio; or some of Lady Wortley Montague's letters from Turkey; or other works of chaste, distinct, and expressive style, not overloaded with metaphors, which with superabundance of ornament injure perspicuity.

But for other purposes of education it is perhaps better to teach young people select parts of many books, than a few entire ones; not only because the pupils will thus be acquainted with more authors in fashionable literature; but because the business of polite education is to give the outlines of many species of erudition, or branches of knowledge; which the young ladies may cultivate further at their future leisure without the assistance of a teacher, as may best suit their tastes or their situations.

[Page] I cannot conclude this section on polite learning without mentioning, that some illiterate men have condemned the cultivation of the minds of the female sex, and have called such in ridicule learned ladies; as if it was a reproach to render themselves agreeable and useful. Where affectation is joined with learning, it becomes pedantry, but this belongs oftener to the ignorant than to the cultivated; as is so well elucidated in "Letters to literary ladies," a small duodecimo published by Johnson, and written by one of the ingenious family of E—in Ireland.

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SECTION XV. ARTS AND SCIENCES.

BESIDES the acquisition of grammar, languages, and common arithmetic; and besides a knowledge of geography, civil history, and natural history, there are other sciences, an outline of which might be taught to young ladies of the higher classes of the school, or of more inquiring minds, before or after they leave school; which might not only afford them present amusement, but might enable them at any future time to prosecute any of them further, if inclination and opportunity should coincide; and, by enlarging their sphere of taste and knowledge, would occasion them to be interested in the conversation of a greater number and of more ingenious men, and to interest them by their own conversation in return.

1. An outline of Botany may be learnt from Lee's introduction to botany, and [Page]from the translations of the works of Linnaeus by a society at Lichfield; to which might be added Curtis's botanical magazine, which is a beautiful work, and of no great expence. But there is a new treatise introductory to botany called Botanic dialogues for the use of schools, well adapted to this purpose, written by M. E. Jacson, a lady well skilled in botany, and published by Johnson, London. And lastly I shall not forbear to mention, that the philosophical part of botany may be agreeably learnt from the notes to the second volume of the Botanic garden, whether the poetry be read or not.

2. An outline of Chemistry, which surprizes and enchants us, may be learnt from the Elements of chemistry by Lavoisier, originally published in French; to which may be added a small work of Fourcroy called the philosophy of Chemistry. The former of these illustrious chemists perished by the guillotine, an irreparable loss to science and to mankind!

[Page] The acquirement of Chemistry should be preceded by a sketch of Mineralogy; which is not only an interesting branch of science, as it teaches the knowledge of diamonds and precious stones, and of the various mines of metals, coals, and salt; but because it explains also the difference of soils, and is thus concerned in the theory and practice of agriculture: But there is at present no proper introductory book, that I know of, on this subject for the use of children; as Cronstedt's and Bergman's, and Kirwan's mineralogy are too exact and prolix; nor could be well understood without a small collection of fossils.

3. An outline of the sciences, to which Mathematics have generally been applied, as of astronomy, mechanics, hydrostatics, and optics, with the curious addition of electricity and magnetism, may best be acquired by attending the lectures in experimental philosophy, which are occasionally exhibited by itinerant philosophers; [Page]and which have almost exclusively acquired the name of natural philosophy.

The books in common use for teaching these sciences are too difficult and abstruse for the study of young persons. Some parts of natural philosophy are rendered not unentertaining in the notes of the first volume of the Botanic garden, as the theory of meteors, and of winds; and an account of the strata of the earth; which nevertheless require too much attention for very young ladies; but may be read with pleasure after leaving school by those, who possess inquiring minds. It is to be wished that some writer of juvenile books would endeavour easily to explain the structure and use of the barometer, and thermometer, and of clocks and watches, which supply a part of the furniture of our houses, and of our pockets.

4. In the same manner the various arts and manufactories, which adorn and [Page]enrich this country, should occasionally be shewn and explained to young persons, as so many ingenious parts of experimental philosophy; as well as from their immediately contributing to the convenience of life, and to the wealth of the nations, which have invented or established them. Of these are the cotton works on the river Derwent in Derbyshire; the potteries in Staffordshire; the iron-founderies of Coalbrooke Dale in Shropshire; the manufactories of Birmingham, Manchester, Nottingham; but these are not in the province of a boarding school, but might be advantageously exhibited to young ladies by their parents in the summer vacations.

5. In this section of arts and sciences it may be proper to mention the art of producing a technical memory invented by Mr. Gray; which may be readily acquired by consulting his book, and may perhaps be of advantage in remembering dates or numbers; as they are expressed [Page]by letters, and formed into words. This work I attended to in my youth, but found it an amusing trick, rather than an useful art.

6. The art of writing Short-hand, which is said to be of English invention, should also be mentioned in this place. The book I learned this art from was published by Gurney, and said to be an improvement on Mason; other treatises of short-hand I have also examined, but found them all nearly of equal excellence. I can only add, that many volumes, which I wrote from medical lectures, I now find difficult to decypher; and that as the words in short-hand are spelt from their sound only; those scholars, who practise this art early in life, are liable not afterwards to spell our language correctly; and lastly, that I believe, this art is still capable of improvement by first forming a more accurate alphabet, than that in common use among all European nations.

[Page] 7. This section on arts and sciences may perhaps be thought to include more branches of them, than is necessary for female erudition. But as in male education the tedicus acquirement of antient languages for the purpose of studying poetry and oratory is gradually giving way to the more useful cultivation of modern sciences, it may be of advantage to ladies of the rising generation to acquire an outline of similar knowledge; as they are in future life to become companions; and one of the greatest pleasures received in conversation consists in being reciprocally well understood. Botany is already a fashionable study for ladies; and chemistry is ingeniously recommended to them in the Letters to literary ladies.

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SECTION XVI. MORALS.

THE criterion of moral duties has been variously delivered by different writers: Expediency, by which is meant whatever increases the sum of public happiness, is by some called the criterion of virtue; and whatever diminishes that sum is termed vice. By others the happiness or misery of the individual, if rightly understood, is said to be the bond of moral obligation. And lastly, by others the will of God is said to constitute the sole criterion of virtue and vice.

But besides systematic books of morality, which are generally too abstruse for young minds, morals may be divided into five departments for the greater conveniency of the manner of instruction.

[Page]1. A sympathy with the pains and pleasures of others, or compassion.

2. A strict regard to veracity.

3. Prudence, justice, chastity.

4. Fortitude.

5. Temperance.

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SECTION XVII. COMPASSION.

A SYMPATHY with the pains and pleasures of others is the foundation of all our social virtues. "DO AS YOU WOULD BE DONE BY," is a precept which descended from heaven. Whoever feels pain himself, when he sees others affected with it, will not only never be liable to give pain, but will always be inclined to relieve it. The lady, who possesses this christian virtue of compassion, cannot but be a good daughter, a good wife, and a good mother, that is, an amiable character in every department of life.

The manner of communicating this benevolent sympathy to children consists in expressing our own sympathy, when any thing cruel presents itself; as in the destruction of an insect; or when actions of [Page]cruelty are related in books or in conversation. I once observed a lady with apparent expressions of sympathy say to her little daughter, who was pulling off the legs of a fly, ‘how should you like to have your arms and legs pulled off? would it not give you great pain? pray let it fly away out of the window:’ which I doubt not would make an indelible impression on the child, and lay the foundation of an amiable character.

This virtue of compassion is a certain foundation of benevolence; and on that account renders children good to their own parents in the latter part of their lives, as well as to all other people; an important circumstance to the happiness of our latter years! Where cruelty or malevolence resides in the breast, it is generally exercised most by the child upon the aged parent, with whom in civilized society he frequently resides; and who often lives so long as to stand in his way to the possession of a wished-for inheritance.

[Page] This compassion, or sympathy with the pains of others, ought also to extend to the brute creation, as far as our necessities will admit; for we cannot exist long without the destruction of other animal or vegetable beings either in their nature or embryon state. Such is the condition of mortality, that the first law of nature is "eat, or be eaten." Hence for the preservation of our existence we may be supposed to have a natural right to kill those brute creatures, which we want to eat, or which want to eat us; but to destroy even insects wantonly shews an unreflecting mind, or a depraved heart.

A young gentleman once assured me, that he had lately fallen in love with a young lady; but, on their walking out one evening in summer, she took two or three steps out of her way on the gravel walk to tread upon an insect; and that afterwards whenever the idea of her came into his mind, it was attended with this picture of [Page]active cruelty; till that of the lady ceased to be agreeable, and he relinquished his design of courtship.

Nevertheless this sympathy, however amiable and necessary, may be carried to an extreme, so as to render miserable the person, who possesses it; since many pitiable objects must be seen in our journey through life, which we have not power to relieve. This then furnishes us with a barrier or line, where to stop; that is, we should endeavour to render our little pupils alive to sympathize with all remediable evils; and at the same time to arm them with fortitude to bear the sight of such irremediable evils, as the accidents of life must frequently present before their eyes.

There should also be a plan in schools to promote the habit as well as the principle of benevolence; each young lady might occasionally contribute a small sum [Page]on seeing a needy naked child to purchase flannel or coarse linen for clothes, which they might learn to cut out, and to make up themselves; and thus the practice of industry might be united with that of liberality.

Another still more practical mode of producing a habit of benevolence in children might be by inducing them to employ some leisure hours in little works of taste, as in making artificial flowers, purses, fringes, and bestowing these on poor people, in order that they might sell them for their support. Miss Hartley at Bath, the daughter of the great medical philosopher of that name, has lately exhibited an amiable example of this kind of philanthropy; she has been long distinguished by her talents as an artist in painting; and has lately distributed her elegant performances among the poor famished emigrants, who reside in her neighbourhood; who are thus greatly assisted by the sale of her works.

[Page] Another channel, in which this sympathy should be taught to flow, is in the observance of those attentions, which perpetually diffuse happiness by promoting by courtesy of behaviour the cheerfulness, or forwarding by ready assistance the interests of those, whether equals, inferiors, or superiors; with whom every one happens to associate or reside: which constitutes the essential part of what is termed politeness of manners; and universally indicates a benevolent disposition.

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SECTION XVIII. VERACITY.

FOR the purpose of inculcating a love of truth early in life the love of praise supplies the most certain means. This kind of honour has an honest pride for it's basis: a story is related in one of the modern volumes of the universal history of an inhabitant of Constantinople, who was brought to the scaffold for denying the divine mission of Mahomet; and on having a pardon offered him, if he would then declare his error, answered, that he would not speak an untruth to save his life. And, I think, it is recorded, that one of the fathers of the church used to affirm, that he would not tell a lie, were he sure to gain heaven by it.

[Page] I once heard an ingenious lady say to a company of her friends, that her daughter, a young girl, who stood by with a countenance flushed with pleasure, never told her a lie in her life: This happy use of flattery was likely to produce a love for veracity, which would never be destroyed by interested motives.

The disgrace of telling a lie should be painted in vivid colours, as totally destructive of the character of a lady or gentleman, rendering them contemptible in the eyes of the world: And the inconvenience of this detestable habit of lying should be explained from its preventing their being believed, when they wish it; as is exemplified in the fable of the shepherd-boy; who called out "the wolf, the wolf," so often to alarm his neighbours, and thus to amuse himself, when no wolf was near; that when the real wolf attacked his flock, he could by no vociferation prevail on any [Page]one to come to his assistance: Or like the village-drunkard, who frequently amused himself with crying out "fire," along the streets on his return from the ale-house in the night, to the great alarm of the neighbourhood; till at length, when his cottage was really in flames, his distress was not believed, and he could gain no assistance to extinguish them.

This sincerity of character should be confirmed by the example of the governesses, who should themselves pay the most exact and scrupulous attention to truth; they should not exaggerate trifling errors into reprehensible faults; and, where reproof is necessary, should give it with kindness; and should not only punctually fulfil their own promises, tho' to their inconvenience, but exact the same from their pupils in return.

To these should be added the precepts of religion, as soon as their minds are capable [Page]of receiving them, which uniformly inculcate truth and probity in all our words and actions.

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SECTION XIX. PRUDENCE, JUSTICE, CHASTITY.

THE impressions on the mind made by recent examples placed, as it were, before our eyes have so much more durable effects, than the more abstracted ideas delivered in systems of moral philosophy; that I believe the most efficacious method of inculcating the virtue of prudence in respect to their own conduct is by telling young people the ill consequences, which have lately happened to others; whose persons or names they are acquainted with: so that a repetition of the slander of a town, which always degrades the retailers, has sometimes its advantage as a lesson to the hearers.

There is another kind of prudence, which it is necessary to acquire in some degree, [Page]which arms the possessor against the ill designs of others; hence they should be taught to beware of flatterers, gamesters, drunkards, and of all ill-tempered persons. As this prudence is to be acquired by the knowledge of mankind, such books as the maxims of Rochfoucault, and others, might be recommended; but they give too gloomy a picture of human nature to be put into the hands of young ladies.

"Know yourself" is a celebrated injunction, and may constitute one department of Prudence, when any one undertakes some great action, or great change in the condition of life; but "know other people" is equally necessary in passing along this sublunary world, and may be inserted with propriety as another maxim in the code of prudence. The facility of knowing others in the daily intercourse of the world is produced by the knowledge of physiognomy, acquired at schools in early life; while the passions continue to be impressed [Page]on the countenances of children; and which is never so well acquired in private tuition; and thus constitutes one of the great advantages of school-education.

JUSTICE and CHASTITY, which are the principal links, by which civilized society is held together, are to be inculcated in young minds by similar methods; that is by pointing out by examples the public punishment, or public disgrace, which certainly accompanies the breach of either of these important duties: and afterwards to add the precepts of religion, when their minds are capable of perceiving their force, to co-operate with the effect of the laws of society, and of the opinion of the wise and virtuous.

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SECTION XX. FORTITUDE.

IF female children are not treated with tenderness by a mother in their early years of infancy, they are perhaps liable to acquire a harshness of character, and an apparent unfeelingness, which afterwards renders them less amiable; though it may give them greater fortitude; which should therefore be inculcated at their rather maturer years.

Neither the robust assailing courage, which prompts to the performance of heroic actions, nor the ostentatious patience, which requires the flattery of the public eye, for its support, belong to the female character. But that serene strength of mind, which faces unavoidable danger with open eyes, prepared to counteract or [Page]to bear the necessary evils of life, is equally valuable as a male or female acquisition. This is termed presence of mind; it depends on our judgment of the real value of things; and on our application of those causes, which contribute to turn disagreeable circumstances to the best advantage; and can therefore only be acquired by the general cultivation of good sense and of knowledge.

An occasional effusion of tears has been thought an amiable weakness, and a mark of delicacy of the sex. When tears are shed at the irremediable misfortunes of others, it indicates an amiable sensibility; but when young ladies indulge themselves in a promptitude of dissolving into incessant tears at every trivial distress of their own, it shews a kind of infantine debility of mind, and conveys an idea of their being unfit for the common duties of life; and should therefore be discouraged by reasoning on the kind and quantity of the evil, [Page]which disturbs them; and by reciting to them the examples of fortitude exhibited by others in disasters much more calamitous, of which there are examples in the letters of Lady Russel: And lastly by reminding them of the consolations of religion.

A slight appearance of timidity has been esteemed another mark of delicacy of the sex; but timidity is the companion of debility of mind rather than of delicacy, and should not therefore be encouraged. In respect to the expressions of fear the violent cries and distorted countenances of some ladies in situations of danger exhibit them in no very amiable attitudes; while they increase the confusion, and may be said "to help the storm;" but if to these be added an affectation of fear without cause; as when a young lady screams through the whole gamut at the sight of a spider, or a grass-hopper; the fault becomes voluntary, and should be [Page]opposed and conquered by the shafts of ridicule.

Impudence in common language has been termed boldness; and bashfulness has been ascribed to timidity; but neither of them with sufficient precision; as brave men have been known to be bashful, and cowards impudent. Assurance of countenance arises from the possessor of it rather over-valuing his own abilities; and impudence consists in this assurance with a total disregard of the opinions of others; but neither of them bear any analogy to fortitude. On the other hand modesty arises from the possessor of it rather undervaluing his own abilities; and bashfulness consists in this modesty with great solicitude about the opinions of others; but neither of them are attended with personal fear. So charming is the appearance of this great sensibility by adding a blush to the features of beauty, that no endeavours should be used to extinguish it early in [Page]life. Nor should any means be contrived to increase it to excess, as embarrassment both of thought and action, and even impediment of speech, is then liable to attend the great anxiety it occasions.

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SECTION XXI. TEMPERANCE.

INCLUDES the subjugation of the appetites and passions to reason and prudence; it consists in our moderation in the use of all those things, which contribute to the convenience, comfort, or enjoyment of life; as of food, dress, pleasures; and in the restraining our licentious passions, as of anger, vanity, love, ambition. The method to instil this virtue is by exhibiting the various inconveniences, which attend unlimited indulgence; and thus to inculcate the golden rule of "nothing to excess."

The example of the governess will have great effect in producing many of the [Page]virtues above mentioned in the minds of her pupils. Justice in the most trivial circumstance must be carefully and exactly done between children in respect to each other in their little disputes at play. Moderation and self-government should also constantly appear in the characters of those, who are to teach these virtues to others.

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SECTION XXII. RELIGION.

THE precepts of religion are best taught by requiring the young pupils regularly to attend such places of divine worship as their parents direct; and by reading on Sundays select parts of the holy scriptures, and some approved books of sermons; as those of Blair, and a few others; and by inculating the reasonableness of daily thanksgiving, and the duty of daily prayer, to the great author of all good.

The divine morality delivered in the new testament should be repeatedly inculcated to an infant audience, who cannot so well understand the metaphysical parts of religion, such as the duty of doing to others [Page]as we would they should do unto us: to love our neighbours as ourselves: to forgive injuries, not to revenge them: and to be kind even to our enemies. For this purpose the sermons of the old Whole duty of man are recommended; one of which might be read every Sunday evening.

Ladies of more mature years, or who have finished their school-education, may learn the necessity and usefulness of our excellent religion from Baron Haller's letters to his daughter, from Lady Pennington's advice to her daughter, and lastly from Mr. Gisborne's duties of the female sex: and the defence of the truth of it may be learned from Mr. Payley's evidences of christianity; but perhaps it is better for them not to perplex their minds with many works of religious controversy.

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SECTION XXIII. ADDRESS.

THERE is a fascinating manner in the address of some people, which almost instantly conciliates the good will, and even the confidence of their acquaintance. Machiavel in his history of Castruccio Castricani observes; that his hero could assume such openness of countenance; that though he was known to be a man practised in every kind of fraud and treachery, yet in a few minutes he gained the confidence of all, whom he conversed with; they went away satisfied of his good will towards them, and were betrayed to their ruin.

This enviable address, which may be used for good purposes as well as for bad ones, may be difficult to analize; but may possibly consist simply in a countenance animated [Page]with pleasure at meeting and conversing with our acquaintance; and which diffuses cheerfulness by pleasurable contagion into the bosoms of others; and thus interests them in our behalf. It is not the smile of flattery, nor the smile of self-approbation, nor the smile of habit, nor of levity; but it is simply an expression of pleasure, which seems to arise at the fight of our acquaintance; and which persuades them, that they possess our love, and for which they barter their own in return.

However this conciliating manner may have been used, as above related, for bad purposes; it probably proceeded originally from friendliness and openness of heart, with cheerful benevolence; and that in those, who have in process of time become bad characters, the appearance of those virtues has remained, after the reality of them has vanished. What then is the method, by which this inchantment of countenance can be taught? certainly by instilling cheerfulness [Page]and benevolence into the minds of young ladies early in life, and at the same time an animation of countenance in expressing them; and though this pleasurable animation be at first only copied, it will in time have the appearance of being natural; and will contribute to produce by association the very cheerfulness and benevolence, which it at first only imitated. This is a golden observation to those, who have the care of young children.

A very accomplished lady, who read the manuscript of this work, wrote the sollowing with her pencil on the opposite page; "nothing can be more just and interesting than the whole of this section; yet however desirable it may be to mend an unpleasant abord, might one not suspect, since Nature has produced a diversity of manner, that an attempt to engraft this beautiful cheerfulness on a grave set of features might produce the worst of evil affectations? A natural simplicity of manner, whether serious or gay, [Page]will always please; and probably this amiable address may be rendered equally consistent with natural manners, whether serious or gay?"

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SECTION XXIV. CONVERSATION.

NEXT to the winning manners above described, the art of pleasing in conversation seems to consist in two things; one of them to hear well; and the other to speak well. The perpetual appearance of attention, and the varying expression of the countenance of the hearer to the sentiments or passions of the speaker; is a principal charm in conversation; to be well heard and accurately understood encourages our companions to proceed with pleasure, whatever may be the topics of their discourse.

Those, who have been educated at schools, and have learnt the knowledge of physiognomy from their playfellows in their early years, understand the pleasurable or painful fellings of all with whom they comverse, [Page]often even before their words are finished; and, by thus immediately conforming the expression of their own features to the sensations of the speaker, become the interesting and animated companions above described, which is seldom seen in those educated in private families; and which, as before observed, gives a preference to school-education.

To speak agreeably in respect to manner consists in a voice clear, yet not loud, soft, yet not plaintive; with distinct articulation, and with graceful attitudes rather than with graceful actions; as almost every kind of gesticulation is disagreeable. In respect to the matter it should be such as coincides with the tastes or pursuits of those, to whom the conversation is addressed. From hence it will appear, that both to hear well, and to speak well, requires an extensive knowledge of things, as well as of the tastes and pursuits of mankind; and must [Page]therefore ultimately be the effect of a good education in general, rather than a particular article of it.

There are however faults to be avoided, and cautious to be observed, in the conversation of young ladies; which should be pointed out to them by the governess of a boarding school. Of these I shall mention first, that whenever the thirst of shining in conversation seizes on the heart, the vanity of the speaker becomes apparent; and we are disgusted with the manner, whatever may be the matter of the discourse.

Secondly, that it is always childish, and generally ridiculous, when young people boast of their follies, or when they accuse themselves of virtues; neither of which they probably possess in the degree, which they describe. A young lady was heard to say, "I am frightened to death at the sight of a [Page]bird:" And another, that she was so inconsiderate, as to give her money to the poor naked children, whom she saw in the streets in winter.

Thirdly, they should be apprized, that there is danger in speaking ill even of a bad person; both because they may have been misinformed, and because they should judge their neighbours with charity. A friend of mine was once asked by a young man, how he could distinguish, whether the lady, whom he meant to address, was good tempered; and gave this answer. "When any dubious accusation is brought in conversation against an absent person; if she always inclines to believe the worst side of the question, she is ill-tempered." There are some nice distinctions on this subject of good nature delivered in Lady Pennington's advice to her daughters, which are worth a young lady's attention.

[Page] Fourthly, that it is dangerous for a young lady to speak very highly in praise even of a deserving man; for if she extols his actions, she will seem to give herself the importance of a judge, and her determinations will sometimes be called in question; and to commend highly the person of a man is in general estimation inconsistent with the delicacy of the sex at any age.

Fifthly, young ladies should be advised not to accustom themselves to the use of strong asseverations, or of a kind of petty oaths, such as "upon my honour," in their conversation; nor often to appeal to others for the truth of what they affirm; since all such strong expressions and appeals derogate somewhat from the character of the speaker: as they give an intimation, that she has not been usually believed on her simple assertion.

[Page] Sixthly, laughing vehemently aloud, or tittering with short shrieks, in which some young ladies, who have left school, indulge themselves at cards or other amusements, are reprehensible; as their dignity of character must suffer by appearing too violently agitated at trivial circumstances.

Seventhly, and uniform adherence to sincerity in conversation is of the first importance; as without it our words are but empty sounds, and can no more interest our companions than the tinkling of a bell. No artificial polish of manners can compensate for the apparent want of this virtue, nor any acquirements of knowledge for the reality of the want of it. Hence though the excess of blame or praise of the actions of others may be imprudent or improper in the conversation of young ladies; as mentioned in the third and fourth articles of this section; yet in these, as in all other kinds of conversation, their opinions [Page]should be given with truth, if given at all; but when the character [...] are concerned, they should [...] with diffidence and modesty.

Lastly, if at any time any improper discourse should be addressed to young ladies, which has a tendency to indecency, immorality, or irreligion, they should be taught to express a marked disapprobation both in words and countenance. So great is the power of the soster sex in meliorating the characters of men; that, if such was their uniform behaviour, I doubt not, but that it would much contribute to reform the morals of the age; an event devoutly to be wished, and which would contribute much to their own happiness.

To these might be added many other observations from the writers on female education concerning a due respect in conversation to superiors, good temper to [Page]equals, and condescension to inferiors. But as young ladies are not expected to speak with the wisdom, or precision of philosophers; and as the careless cheerfulness of their conversation, with simplicity of manner, and with the grace, ease, and vivacity natural to youth, supplies it with its principal charms; these should be particularly encouraged, as there are few artificial accomplishments, which could compensate for the loss of them.

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SECTION XXV. EXERCISE.

THE acquirements of literature, and of many arts, make the lives of young people too sedentary; which impairs their strength, makes their countenances pale and bloated, and lays the foundation of many diseases; hence some hours should every day be appropriated to bodily exercises, and to relaxation of mind.

Such as tend to produce activity, and to promote the growth of the person in respect to height, are preferred in the schools for young ladies to those, which render the system more robust and muscular.

Of these playing at ball, at shuttlecock, swinging as they sit on a cord or cushion, [Page]and dancing, in the open air in summer, and within doors in winter, are to be preferred. To these some have recommended an exercise of the arms by swinging leaden weights, which are called dumb bells; these should be very light, if they be used at all, otherwise they load the spine of the back, and render the shoulders thick and muscular, and rather impede than forward the perpendicular growth of the person. The ringing of a real bell hung as is done in churches, or the frequent drawing up of a weight by a cord over a pulley, with a fly-wheel to prevent its too hasty descent, would be an exercise, which might be used with great advantage by young people; as it both extends the spine, and strengthens the muscles of the chest and arms.

Many other kinds of exercise have been recommended by authors: Madame Genlis advises weights to be carried on the head, as milk-maids carry their milk-pails; [Page]and even to add weights to the soles of the shoes of children to strengthen, as she supposes, the muscles of locomotion in walking or running. It is evident, that carrying weights on the head must be injurious to young people, especially when there is a tendency to softness of the bones; as it may contribute to bend the spine by their pressure, and to impede the perpendicular growth of the body; and the walking in weighted shoes may induce awkward gestures without any adequate advantage.

There are other modes of exertion, which, though graceful in themselves, are not allowed to ladies by the fashion of this age and country; as skating on the ice in winter, swimming in summer, funambulation, or dancing on the streight rope: but walking with a stately measured step occasionally, like the march of soldiers, and reading aloud frequently rather in a theatric manner, as well as dancing and singing, [Page]will much contribute to give strength and grace to the muscles of locomotion, and of vocality.

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SECTION XXVI. AIR.

THE strength and activity of young people not only depends on the perpetual exercise of their limbs, as described in the preceding sections, but on the purity of the air, which they breathe, and even on the occasional coldness of it. The cold air of winter acts on delicate people like a cold bath; as it diminishes the action of the subcutaneous vessels for a time, and thus produces an accumulation of animal power, whence an increased action of those vessels and a consequent warmth of the surface of the body succeeds; and by this less expenditure of animal power during immersion in cold air, and its consequent accumulation, the person becomes stronger for a time and more animated; which is termed [Page]in common language, "bracing the system." Hence to strengthen delicate children they should be encouraged to go into the cold air of winter frequently, but should not remain in it longer than a quarter or half an hour at a time. In summer young people can scarcely continue too much in the air, where they are shaded from the heat of the sun.

A constant immersion in pure air is now known to contribute much both to the health of the system, and to the beautiful colour of the complexion. And this atmosphere should undergo a perpetual change and renovation; that the vital air, which constitutes about one-fourth part of it, may not be too much diminished by frequent respiration. Due attention should be given to this important circumstance both by frequently urging the young ladies to amuse themselves out of doors; and by the proper ventilation of the school-room, dining-room, bed-rooms, and [Page]their other apartments. For this purpose it is convenient to saw off about one inch from the top of every door of these crowded rooms, and opposite to this aperture to nail along the top of the door a tin plate about two inches wide, rising at an angle of about forty-five degrees; which will bend the current of air up towards the ceiling; where it will be mixed with the warm air of the room, and sink down amongst the society without the danger of giving cold to any one: And, besides these door-ventilators, the upper sashes of every window should always be let down a few inches, when the external weather will admit of it.

In respect to bed rooms, which have more than one bed, the doors should be furnished with similar ventilators for the due admission of fresh air; and during the summer-months a window should be kept a few inches open during the night as well as the day; the sash of which should have [Page]a bolt or other proper fastening for this purpose; nor should the fire-place be stopt up at any season by a chimney-board, or a bag of straw; as many rooms are made to shut up so close, that this is the only aperture, by which fresh air is admitted. To this should be added, that the bed-curtains should never be drawn close round the beds; which confine the air spoiled by frequent respiration, and the perspirable matter, like a noxious atmosphere over the unconscious sleepers. At the same time none of the beds should be placed very near either to an open window, or to an open chimney, as a partial current of air might be injurious by the coldness it might occasion.

In crowded bed-rooms, where children are close shut up for eight or nine hours every night, not only the pale bloated complexion, which is seen in children of crowded manufactories; but other diseases are produced by the impurity of the air, [Page]such as indigestion, difficulty of breathing, and sometimes convulsive fits, as mentioned in Zoonomia, vol. II. class. iii. 1.1.5. and lastly putrid fevers; of which fatal instances frequently occur in the crowded habitations of the poor. Hence parents cannot be too careful in inspecting the bed-rooms, and the beds of the schools, to which they entrust their children; as not only their present comfort, but their future health, and sometimes their lives depend on this attention; as is further explained in the section on rheumatism.

Besides the due ventilation of rooms by a perpetual supply of pure air in summer, something should be here said about the manner of warming them in winter. As the quantity of air carried up a chimney is very great, owing to its being rendered so much lighter than the external atmosphere by the heat of the fire, strong currents of cold air press into the room at every chink of the doors and windows [Page]passing towards the fire; and are liable to give catarrh, rheumatism, kibed heels, and swelled fingers, to those scholars, who are exposed to them. To lessen these currents of cold air setting in at every aperture, the chimney should be so contracted over the fire-grate, as to admit no more of the warm air to go up it, than is necessary to carry up the smoke; and hence much more of the warm air near the fire-place will rise up to the cieling; and descending, as it becomes cooler, in the distant parts of the room, will form a kind of vertical eddy, and warm the whole apartment; adding greatly to the heat produced by the radiation from the fire.

To effect this Doctor Franklin recommended an iron or tin plate to slide under the mantle-piece over the fire, so as to contract the aperture of the chimney to two or three inches in width, all the length over the fire-grate. And lately Count Rumford has accomplished the same purpose by a [Page]flat stone about twelve inches broad, and eighteen inches high; which is reared upon one end at the back of the fire-place, about eight inches above the grate, and leans forward towards the mantle-piece, so as to leave an aperture, three or four inches wide, and twelve or fourteen inches long, over the front of the fire-place. The use of both these contrivances is to contract the mouth of the chimney, and thus to admit no more warm air up it, than is necessary to convey the smoke. And the sliding iron plate in Franklin's plan, and the end-reared stone in Rumford's plan, are designed to be occasionally withdrawn for the admittance of the chimney-sweeper. These are described in detail in the essays of Doctor Franklin, and Count Rumford; and it is believed, that one-third of the fuel may be thus saved, and the rooms be kept more equally warm, and more salutary.

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SECTION XXVII. CARE OF THE SHAPE.

DELICATE young ladies are very liable to become awry at many boarding schools, this is occasioned principally by their being obliged too long to preserve an erect attitude, by sitting on forms for many hours together. To prevent this, the school-seats should either have backs, on which they may occasionally rest themselves; or desks before them, on which they may occasionally lean. This is a thing of greater consequence, than may appear to those, who have not attended to it; and who wish their children to acquire a very erect attitude.

[Page] When the least tendency to become awry is observed, they should be advised to lie down on a bed or sofa for an hour in the middle of the day for many months; which generally prevents the increase of this deformity by taking off for a time the pressure of the head and neck and shoulders on the spine of the back; and it at the same time tends to make them grow taller.

Young persons, when nicely measured, are found to be half an inch higher in the morning than at night; as is well known to those, who inlist very young men for soldiers. This is owing to the cartilages between the bones of the back becoming compressed by the weight of the head and shoulders on them during the day. It is the same pressure, which produces curvitures and distortions of the spine in growing children, where the bones are softer than usual; and which may thus be relieved by an horizontal [Page]posture for an hour in the middle of the day, or by being frequently allowed to lean on a chair, or to play on a carpet on the ground.

Young ladies should also be directed, where two sleep in a bed, to change every night, or every week, their sides of the bed; which will prevent their tendency to sleep always on the same side; which is not only liable to produce crookedness, but also to occasion diseases by the internal parts being so long kept in uniform contact as to grow together. For the same reason they should not be allowed to sit always on the same side of the fire or window: because they will then be inclined too frequently to bend towards one side; which in those constitutions, where the bones are too soft, is liable to produce crookedness of the spine.

[Page] Another great cause of injury to the shape of young ladies is from the pressure of stays, or other tight bandages; which at the same time cause other diseases by changing the form or situation of the internal parts. If a hard part of the stays, even a knot of the thread, with which they are sewed together, is pressed upon one side more than the other; the child bends from the side, which is uneasy, and thus occasions a curviture of the spine. To counteract this effect such stays, as have fewest hard parts, and especially such as can be daily or weekly turned, are preferable to others. A wise fashion of wearing no stiff stays, which adds so much to the beauty of young ladies, has commenced since the above was written; and long may it continue!

Where frequently lying down on a sofa in the day time, and swinging frequently [Page]for a small time by the head, with loose dress, do not relieve a beginning distortion of the back, I have used with some success a swing for children to sleep in, as described in Zoonomia, vol. II. class. I 2.2.16. and also a crutch-chair, as there delineated; and where these do not seem to succeed, recourse may also be had to Mons. Vacher's spinal machine, first described in the memoirs of the academy of Surgery in Paris, vol. III. with a good print of it; and since made by Mr. Jones in London, at No. 6, North-street, Tottenham-court Road; which suspends the head, and places the weight of it on the hips.

It will be from hence easily perceived that all other methods of confining or directing the growth of young people should be used with great skill, such as backboards, or bandages; and that their application should not be continued too long at a time; least worse consequences should ensue, than the deformity they are designed [Page]to remove. Of these the stocks for the feet of children, for the purpose of making them turn their toes quite out, and the frame for pressing in their knees, as they stand erect, at the same time, I suspect, when carried to excess, to be particularly injurious, and to have caused an irrecoverable lameness of hip-joint; as explained in Zoonomia, vol. II. class I. 2.2.17. These therefore should be used with proper caution, so as to give no pain or uneasy feels, or not used at all.

To this it may be proper to add, that the stiff erect attitude, taught by some modern dancing masters, does not contribute to the grace of person, but rather militates against it; as is well seen in one of the prints in Hogarth's analysis of beauty; and is exemplified by the easy grace of some of the ancient statues, as of the Venus de Medici, and the Antinous; and in the works of some modern artists, as in a beautiful print of Hebe feeding an eagle, [Page]painted by Hamilton, and engraved by Eginton; and many of the figures of Angelica Kauffman. And lastly, which is so eminently seen in many of the beauties of the present day, since they have left off the constraint of whale-bone stays, and assumed the graceful dress of the ancient Grecian statues.

In the tendency to curviture of the spine whatever strengthens the general constitution is of service, as the use of the cold bath in the summer months. This however requires some restriction both in respect to the degree of coldness of the bath, the time of continuing in it, and the season of the year. Common springs, which are of 48 degrees of heat, are too cold for tender constitutions, whether of children or adults; and frequently do them great and irreparable injury, as I have witnessed in three or four cases. The coldness of river water in the summer [Page]months, which is about 65 degrees, or that of Matlock, which is about 68, or of Buxton, which is 82, are much to be preferred: The two latter are improperly called warm baths, comparing their degree of heat with that of common springs; whereas they are in reality cold baths, being of much lower degree of heat than that of the human body, which is 98. The time of continuing in a cold bath should be but a few minutes; certainly not so long as to occasion a trembling of the limbs from cold. In respect to the season of the year, delicate children should certainly only use cold bathings in the summer months; as the going frequently into the cold air in winter will answer all the purposes of the cold bath.

Other means of counteracting the debility of the system, or softness of bones, which occasion crookedness, consist in taking internally from 10 to 20 grains of extract of bark, with as much soda phosphorata, [Page]and mixed with from five to ten drops of tincture of opium, twice a day for three or four weeks; as is further treated of in Zoonomia, vol. II. class I. 2.2.14. and 16.

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SECTION XXVIII. DRESS.

YOUNG Ladies should be instructed to shew attention to their dress, as it gives an idea of cleanliness of their persons; which has so great a charm, that it may be reckoned amongst the inferior virtues; for this purpose an elegant simplicity of dress is to be recommended in preference to that superabundance of ornament, where the lady herself is the least part of her. The form of dress must nevertheless perpetually vary with the fashion of the time; but a person of taste may lessen those parts of a fashionable dress, which oppose beauty or grace; and bring forwards those, which are more coincident with them; so as to wear a dress in fashion, and yet not devoid of taste.

[Page] Thus when large hoops were in general use, which so totally militate with all ideas of beauty and grace; ladies of taste wore them as small, as custom would allow. So in respect to the ear-rings of the present day; since piercing the tender part of the ear for the purpose of suspending a weight of gold, or of precious stones, or of glass beads to it, reminds us of the savage state of mankind; those ladies of taste, who think themselves obliged to comply with this indecorous fashion, use the lightest materials, as a chain of small pearls, to give a less distressing idea of the pain, they seem to suffer at every motion of their heads. Hence also long pendant and complicated ear-rings, however they may add to the dignity of riper years by their costliness, are unbecoming to young ladies; as they seem to give pain in the quicker, tho' more graceful, motions of juvenility.

Sir Joshua Reynolds, I think, observes in one of his addresses to the academy, [Page]that hard curls of hair stiffened with the fat of hogs, and covered with the flower of wheat, cannot be admitted into picture. The same may be observed of that coat of mail, the whale-bone stays, the use of which is now so happily discontinued. Both of these, however they may conceal the grey hairs and waining figures of those, who are advanced in life, are highly injurious to the flowing locks and graceful forms of young ladies.

As beauty consists of lines flowing in easy curves according to the analysis of Hogarth; those parts of dress, which are composed of such lines, are always agreeable. Thus a sash descending from one shoulder to the opposite hip, or a grecian veil thrown back and winding carelessly down behind, are always beautiful; but a few white ostrich feathers rising on the head before, and a train of silk sweeping on the ground behind, add so much grace to a moving female figure, as to attract all eyes with unceasing admiration.

[Page] In moving forwards the hair falls back, and in very swift motion floats upon the air behind; hence by association of ideas, when the hair is made to retire from the cheeks, it gives an intimation of the youthful agility of the person; and when it is brought forwards over the cheeks, it may consent with unmoving dignity, like the full wig of a judge, but diminishes our idea of the activity of playful youth.

Where the appearance of use in dress can be given to ornaments, it suggests an excuse for wearing them, and is therefore to be preferred; as diamond pins, strings of pearl, and a comb of shell, to restrain the exuberant hair; or knots of ribbons to fix the slipper on the foot, to contract the sleeve around the arm, to unite the vest upon the bosom, or to attach the cap above the forehead. And when these are similar in colour, it gives an air of simplicity, and a kind of pyramidal form to the dress; which the painters so much endeavour to [Page]exhibit both in their landscapes, and their groups of figures.

Other ornaments, which bear no analogy to use in dress, should be sparingly worn; lest they give an idea, that they were designed to display the pride of the possessor, rather than to decorate her person. These are sometimes seen so ill placed as to make deformities conspicuous, as a number of rings on singers distorted with the gout, or splendid buckles on turned-in feet. Where there is no appearance of use, all shining ornaments should be so disposed as to direct the eye of the beholder to some beautiful feature of the lady, who wears them; as diamond stars in the hair, and artificial flowers on the bosom.

Paint and perfumes are totally inadmissible in the dress of young ladies, as they give a suspicion of natural defects in respect to colour of the skin, and odour [Page]of the breath. Where there exists but a mediocrity of beauty, and youth is in the wain, a variety of pretty or of costly ornaments on the dress, and even the whiteness of powder in the hair, may sometimes mingle with our idea of the person, and seem to render the whole fairer, more pleasing, or more respectable. But ornaments of every kind are useless or injurious to youthful beauty; they add no power to the charm, but rather disenchant the beholder by abstracting his attention; which dwells with undiminished rapture on beauty arrayed by simplicity, and animated without affectation. Thus the majestic juno of Homer is arrayed in variety of ornament, and with ear-rings, which have three large pendant bobs to each, and commands universal homage. But his Queen of Beauty is dressed with more simple elegance, in her magic sash, or cestus, and charms all eyes.

The attention to taste in dress may nevertheless be carried into an extreme; it [Page]should not seem to be the most important part of the education of a young lady; or the principal object of her care; she should rather appear to follow than to lead the fashion, according to the lines of Mr. Pope.

Be not the first, on which the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

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SECTION XXIX. AMUSEMENTS

ARE generally distinguished from exercise, as they relieve or exhilerate the mind. Cards may be occasionally used by children in private families, without their gaming for money; and will in general facilitate their acquirement of arithmetic; but cannot be allowed in schools, lest the young ladies should expend too much time upon them, or should play for money clandestinely. But the game of chess, from its bearing so great analogy to common life, is supposed much to improve the most useful powers of the mind: It has the experience of the remotest antiquity to recommend it, occasions no depraved passions, as it is not played for money; and by the caution perpetually necessary to watch your adversary, [Page]and the judgment required to contrive, arrange, and manage your own affairs, employs and strengthens every part of the understanding.

Embroidery, drawing, music, as well as the exercises of dancing, swinging, playing at ball, and shuttlecock, should be classed amongst the amusements of young ladies; and should be reciprocally applied to, either in the house or in the open air, for the purpose of relieving each other; and of producing by such means an uninterrupted cheerfulness of mind; which is the principal charm, that fits us for society, and the great source of earthly happiness.

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SECTION XXX. PUNISHMENTS. REWARDS. MOTIVES.

IT is the custom of many schools to use some kinds of punishments, which either give pain or disgrace to the delinquent, as a fool's cap, or a meal of water gruel. The use of these are seldom if ever necessary in schools for young ladies, and are always attended with disagreeable consequences, as they either diminish the character of honour in the punished persons, sink their spirits, or render them insensible to the opinions of others; or injure their health: Insomuch that at some schools all that can be acquired can scarcely compensate the loss of cheerfulness, and degradation of mind, or bad health, which their punishments produce.

[Page] Thus the sitting in the public school for an hour in a cap with bells diminishes the sensibility of a child to the opinions of her companions, and thus gradually destroys one of the greatest motives to good actions, and of the greatest restraints from bad ones. For the same reason reprimands and even admonitions should be always applied in private, but applause or reward in public.

A meal of water gruel, given as a punishment instead of a meal of animal food, so frequently had recourse to in some boarding schools, I believe to have laid the foundation of incurable debility. The diseases of debility, as scrophula, bronchocele, softness of bones, and the consequent distortion of them, are very common among the children of the poor in Derby, which on examination, I believe to be owing to their food consisting chiefly of gruel; or sometimes with milk, which has been twice skimmed, so that it is totally [Page]deprived of its most nourishing part; at other times with weak salt broth, but seldom with solid animal food. When broth is weak in respect to the quantity of fleshmeat boiled in it, it is the custom of cooks to add much salt to it to increase the relish, which renders it still more injurious to weak children; as salt contains no nourishment, and by its stimulus increases the action of the system; and by promoting great insensible or sensible perspiration diminishes the strength of the child more, than the small quantity of meat dissolved in the broth can counterbalance.

2. How then are refractory children to be governed? certainly by the superiority of the mind of the teacher over that of the pupil. When a famous lady in Italy was put to the torture, and questioned by what sorcery she had governed a princess of the family of Medici; she answered "by no sorcery, but by that power, which superior minds possess over inferior ones."

[Page] 3. Besides the two circumstances, which so much govern the great world, I mean hope of reward and fear of punishment; in the microscosm of a boarding school blame and praise, if given very sparingly, will be found strong motives to the little pupils to perform their tasks well, and of more efficacy ten times, than the meal of water gruel, or the disgrace of a cap and bells. Esteem and disgrace are observed by Mr. Locke to be of all others the most powerful incentives to the mind, when once it is brought to regard them: And if once you can communicate to children a love of credit, and an apprehension of shame, you have instilled into them a principle, which will constantly act, and incline them to do right, tho' it is not the true source from whence our actions ought to spring; which should be from our duty to others and to ourseives.—See Essay on education, sect. 56, &c. where are many other valuable observations on this subject.

[Page] 4. Emulation at seeing others excel, if properly managed is another incitement to industry. But as this is liable to degenerate into envy, it should rather be left to its own operation, than be promoted by pointing out the examples, which should be copied. It is better to say, "your task is not done to day so well as you sometimes do it," than to say, "your task is not done so well as your sister's." Since in the latter case envy, and its consequence hatred, may succeed; a thing of tenfold worse consequence than the neglect of a thousand tasks.

5. Tho' some degree of flattery may be used with success in teaching veracity to very young children, as mentioned in sect. 18. of this work, yet I think it should be used very rarely indeed, and only on very important occasions, lest it should become a necessary motive of action, instead of moral duty; as observed in Zoonomia, vol. II. class iii. 2.1.8. "The debility [Page]of the exertion of voluntary efforts prevents the accomplishment of all the great purposes of life. This often originates from a mistaken education; in which pleasure or vanity is made the immediate motive of action, and not future advantage, or what is termed duty. This observation is of great value to those, who attend to the early education of their own children."

"I have seen one or two young married ladies of fortune, who perpetually became uneasy, and believed themselves ill, a week after their arrival in the country; and continued so uniformly during their stay; yet on their return to London or to Bath immediately lost all their complaints; and this I observed to happen to them repeatedly. All which I was led to ascribe to their being in their infancy surrounded with menial attendants, who had slattered them into the exertions, which they then used. And [Page]that in their mature years they became torpid for the want of this stimulus, and could not amuse themselves by any voluntary employment, but required ever after to be slattered into activity; or to be amused by others."

6. Rewards have been given to children to excite their industry in the performance of particular tasks; these are certainly less eligible motives to action than the fear of disgrace, the love of reputation, and above all the obligations of duty. Where nevertheless these are thought proper, the kind of rewards requires some attention; which should consist of books, or maps, or boxes of colours, or needle cases: but not of money, or of trinkets for ornamental dress, or of a glass of wine. Where money is given as a reward for industry in children, it may seem to them to be the proper motive of their actions instead of reputation or of duty; and may thus induce [Page]the vice of avarice or of extravagance. Where a fine cap or gown is given as a reward of diligence, the pride of dress may be produced, and become their great motive of action, instead of the love of reputation, or of duty. And lastly, where a glass of wine is given as a reward for industry, a child is taught to believe wine to be a most valuable acquisition, and a perpetual desire of it even to intoxication may be the consequence. I remember a wealthy farmer, who had two drunken sons, tho' he was a sober man himself, who told me, that he ascribed this great misfortune to his having occasionally given them in their early life a cup of ale as a reward for their exertious.—See Locke on education, sect. 52, &c.

7. A very accurate observer, who has long had the conduct of schools of various kinds for the instruction of the youth of both sexes, acquaints me, "That [Page]he has often with extreme surprize observed a child make a greater progress in some one branch of education in three months, than another of similar age, opportunity, capacity, and even apparently of equal application, has been able to effect in three years." The same observation has been made by others, but he adds, "That this might probably arise from some trivial circumstance, which determined the inclination of the fortunate student; and that it is possible, that the means may sometime be discovered of governing these incidents, and thus producing a new era in the art of education!"

Similar to this it has often been observed, that the first impressions made on our infant minds by accidental disgust, admiration, or flattery, are the frequent causes of our antipathies or aversions, and continue through life to bias our affections or mislead our judgments. One of my acquaintance can trace the origin of many of his own energies of action from some [Page]such remote sources; which justifies the observation of M. Rousseau, that the seeds of future virtues or vices are oftener sown by the mother than by the tutor.

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SECTION XXXI. LISPING.

LISPING is a defect of pronunciation occasioned by children's making use of the sound of the letter TH sibilant instead of the letter S; as instead of "is it so," they say "ith it tho." To break this habit they must be taught to pronounce the S, by putting the point of the tongue against the roots of the upper teeth; and not to put it between their teeth as in pronouncing the TH. This is easily accomplished by putting their own finger against the point of the tongue, as it comes between their teeth, in attempting to pronounce the letter S, and pushing it back into the mouth.

I once saw a young lady, who after she had left school, had the habit of using occasionally, [Page]tho' not constantly, the gutteral CH instead of the letter S, which was uncommonly disagreeable to English ears. She corrected this ill habit by being taught, as above, how to place the tongue in pronouncing the S, but not without many trials and much attention for some weeks; as great efforts and pertinacious industry are required to break any habit, which has been long esiablished.

Many children from the difficulty of speaking it are liable to a defective pronunciation of the letter R; this in indeed almost general in some parts of Northumberland, and is said to be a sound unknown in China; which obliged the catholic missionaries sent thither by Louis the 14th to change the name of the virgin Mary, from Maria into Malia, or from Mary into Mally. In speaking the letter R the middle of the tongue is made to vibrate with semivocal air; whereas in pronouncing L, the edges of the tongue only vibrate; the [Page]Northumberland vernacular R is formed with sibilant air instead of semivocal air, or differs from the true R, as S differs from Z. Both which should be explained to those children, who have this imperfect pronunciation.

Among the lower orders of the people of London, who are called Cockneys, the letter W is pronounced sibilant like the German W, and not semivocal like our vernacular one; this seems to resemble the sound of V to inattentive ears; and these Cockneys, are thence supposed to use V instead of W, as Vomen and Vine, instead of Women and Wine. This defect is readily conquered by teaching such children to give more vocal sound to their W, by sounding it at first like OO.

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SECTION XXXII. STAMMERING.

THIS impediment of speech has generally for its remote cause a too great diffidence, or bashfulness, joined with an ambition of shining in conversation; and for its immediate cause an interruption of the association of the initial letter of a word with the remainder of it. Which association is dissevered by the ill-introduced sensation of awe, bashfulness, desire of shining, or fear of not succeeding; and then violent voluntary efforts are in vain employed to rejoin the broken association, and give rise to various distortions of countenance, as explained in Zoonomia, vol. II. class iv. 2.3.1.

That this impediment of pronunciation is altogether a disease of the mind, and [Page]not of the organs of speech, is shewn by the stammerer being able to speak all words with perfect facility, when alone, as in repeating a play; but begins to hesitate, if any one approaches; or even if he imagines, that he is listened to. Those words also are most difficult to him to pronounce, which he is conscious, he cannot change for others, as when he is asked his own name, or the names of other persons, or of places; and the more so if he is aware, that the hearer is impatient to be informed, and that he cannot conjecture the name, before it is spoken.

It requires great attention, and much time to overcome this bad habit; they should be daily exercised in speaking single words as in spelling; and when they hesitate or find difficulty in announcing the beginning of a word, they should repeat it frequently aloud without the initial letter, and at length repeat it with the initial letter in a soster tone.

[Page] Suppose the stammerer finds difficulty in speaking the word "Paper," and says p, p, p, p, repeatedly, but cannot join the a after it. He must be taught to pronounce aper, aper, aper, without the initial p, for many successive times; and this aper should be spoken aloud with more breath than common, as if an h preceded it; and at length he should add in a softer tone the letter p to it.

This, together with an hourly attention to speaking and reading slowly, and practising in this manner every word, which is not readily spoken, both in private and in company, I am informed is the principle, on which those masters cure this impediment, who make it a profession; and to this should be added a frequent introduction to the society of strangers, in order to acquire less agitation or anxiety about the opinions of others.

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SECTION XXXIII. SQUINTING.

THIS defect of vision, which is termed strabismns, may frequently be conquered in children, if it be attended to early, before it has been long established by habit. In this deformity it generally happens, that one eye is better than the other, which induces the child to view objects with the best eye, and to hide the center of the nose. This greater irritability of one eye is often occasioned, I suspect, in infancy, by tying a bandage for too long a time over an eye, which has happened to be slightly inflamed, and thus decreasing its power of action by disuse; in the same manner the large muscles of the body become weakened by long inaction; and the right arm is generally [Page]stronger than the left from its having been more frequently exercised.

In this case if the best eye be for an hour or two, or longer, covered every day with gauze stretched upon a circular piece of whale-bone, so as to render the vision of this eye as indistinct as that of the other, the child will naturally turn them both to the same object, and in a little time the weak eye will become stronger by being used, or the strong one weaker by disuse, and the child will cease to squint.

Another kind of squinting is owing intirely to a bad habit, and consists in looking at objects with one eye only at a time. The owl bends both his eyes upon the object, which he observes; and by thus perpetually turning his head to the thing he inspects, appears to have greater attention to it; and has thence acquired the name of the bird of wisdom. All other birds, I believe, look at objects with one eye only, but it is [Page]with the eye nearest the object attended to; whereas in this kind of strabismns the person attends to objects with the most distant eye only. This habit has probably been produced, by a cap worn in infancy, which projected forward beyond the head on each side, like the bluffs of a coach-horse, so as to make it easier for the child, as he lay in his cradle, to view oblique objects with the eye most distant from them; which kind of cap is therefore to be avoided.

A curious case of this ill habit of vision is related in the Philos. Transact. vol. 68. by Dr. Darwin; which was relieved by fixing a parchment gnomon on the nose of the little boy, which projected about an inch from the ridge of it, and caused him for a time to view oblique objects with that eye, which was nearest them.

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SECTION XXXIV. INVOLUNTARY MOTIONS.

BY confinement in a school-room for many successive hours, and that without being suffered to vary their posture, some of the more active and lively children are liable to gain tricks of involuntary actions, as twitchings of the face, restless gesticulations of the limbs, biting their nails, &c. which are generally at first occasioned by the want of sufficient bodily exercise to expend the superfluous animal power, like the jumping of a squirrel in a cage; but are also liable to be caught by imitation of each other.

To prevent this kind of deformity children should be suffered to change their attitudes and situations more frequently; [Page]or to walk about, as they get their lessons. To counteract it the earliest attention is necessary; as a few weeks frequently establish a bad habit, which cannot be removed without great difficulty: This however may be effected early in the disease by a bandage nicely applied on the moving muscles, or by adhesive plasters put tightly over them; or by an issue placed over them, so as to give a little pain, when the muscles are thrown into action under it.

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SECTION XXXV. SWELLED FINGERS,

AND kibed heels, are inflammations liable to affect tender children in many schools during the winter months. The latter of these complaints is generally owing to the coldness of a brick or plaster floor to their feet, or to their sitting in unchanged shoes and stockings, after walking in the wet; and the former to their being kept too long from the fire in the cold parts of the school-room without gloves.

Nothing prevents or cures these maladies but a due attention to keep the extremities of delicate children warm, either by clothing, exercise, or fire. The inflammation of the heels or toes may be [Page]sometimes removed by covering them with a double linen rag moistened in a saturnine solution made by dissolving half an ounce of sugar of lead in half a pint of water, to be renewed morning and night. As the swelling of the fingers thus produced is liable to continue, and to injure the shape of them, it becomes of greater importance; but may in some measure be afterwards diminished or removed by the frequent application of vitriolic Ether to them.

The skin of the lips, and of the hands and arms of children is liable to become inflamed, and chopped, or rough, in frosty weather, owing both to the coldness and dryness of the air. The former is relieved by the application of a lip-salve made by mixing minium or red lead with spermaceti and oil to a proper consistance; or by blue mercurial ointment. The latter by wearing leathern gloves, the inside of which is smeared with spermaceti softened [Page]with a little oil, or with pomatum; gloves thus prepared prevent too great exhalation from the skin in frosty air, and the consequent too great dryness and roughness of it.

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SECTION XXXVI. BEDS.

THE rheumatism, and other inflammatory diseases, are frequently occasioned in crowded schools by placing some of the beds with one side against a wall; where the weaker child confined by a stronger bedfellow is liable to lie for hours together with some part of it in contact with the cold wall; which in the winter months has often been attended with fatal consequences; and especially in those boarding schools, where the beds are small, and but one blanket allowed to each of them, and a scanty feather-bed.

We are indued with a very accurate sense to distinguish heat and cold, which [Page]should be nicely attended to; as the extremes of both of them are injurious to health, and more so in our sleeping than in our waking hours. The extreme of heat is not much experienced in this climate, except when it is artificially produced; but that of cold is the cause of numerous diseases of the most fatal tendency. A severe continued frost may may be borne by the strong, who can keep themselves warm by their activity, but is destructive to the weak and sedentary. In the year 1795 the weather in January, and in one week of February was uncommonly severe; the same five weeks in January and February 1796 were uncommonly mild; and it appears by the bills of mortality in London, that 2823 people died in these five weeks of frost in 1795; and that only 1471 died in the same five weeks of mild weather in 1796, which is not much more than half the number.—See a paper by Dr. Heberden in Philos. Transact. for the year 1796.

[Page] Some misinformed parents have conceived, that a hard bed contributes to harden their children in respect to their bearing cold, and have on that account laid them on straw-mattresses, or on beds with boarded bottoms. The only difference between lying on a soft or hard bed consists in this; the weight of the body in the former case presses on a larger surface, and in the latter on a less; neither of which has any reference to the habits of tenderness or hardiness in respect to cold and heat; unless indeed a feather-bed is so soft, that, as the child sinks down in the middle of it, the rising edges bend over him, and in part cover him. Perhaps beds made of soft leather properly prepared, and inflated with air, as the Emperor of Germany was said to use in camp, might be preferable on this account to feather-beds.

The beds for young children cannot therefore be too soft, however they may [Page]contribute to the indolence of grown people provided they do not keep them too warm by bending over them as above described. But the too great hardness of beds is, I believe, frequently injurious to the shape of infants by occasioning them to rest on too few parts at a time; which hardens those parts by pressure, and prevents their proportionate growth. It also occasions their sleep to be less sound by the uneasiness it causes, and in consequence less refreshing.

The feet and knees and hands of weaker children are liable to become cold in bed in winter, on which account it is more salutary for them to sleep with a bed-fellow, rather than alone; as they then naturally put their cold knees or hands to their companion in bed, and thus frequently prevent rheumatic, and other inflammatory diseases of fatal event. For the same reason it is better for a new born infant to sleep [Page]with its mother in winter, or with a young nurse, than in a solitary crib by her bed-side; unless the artificial warmth of the room be more nicely graduated, than is commonly done.

For the same reason, where children are too feeble from illness, a fire should be allowed in their bed-chamber in cold weather; as the cold air is otherwise injurious to their lungs, which cannot be clothed so as to prevent the contact of of the air, like the other parts of the body; a fire contributes also to ventilate a room, and to circulate the air in it, and thence to render it more salutary; but it should not warm it to more than 60 or 65 degrees, that its temperature may not differ too much from that of the external atmosphere; as those, who are kept generally too warm, are liable to take cold, at every blast of air, not from [...] degree of cold, to which they happen [Page]to be exposed, but to its difference from that, which they have been accustomed to.—See sect. xxvi.

The universal analogy derived from other animals, which produce a feeble offspring, evinces the truth of this doctrine, both in respect to the softness, and the due degree of warmth of their beds: Birds line the nests for their young with feathers; the eider duck, and the rabbit, pluck the down from their own breasts to increase the softness of the beds for their tender offspring; and brood them with their wings, or clasp them to their bosoms for the sake of warmth.

The number of hours required for salutary sleep is greater for younger children, than for those more advanced; as during our progress through life we acquire greater facility in using our voluntary power, and recruit it in less time when exhausted. The younger classes [Page]of scholars may go to rest at seven, or eight; but the elder should be allowed another hour for the purposes of reading or other kinds of improvement; the hour of rising must vary with the season.

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SECTION XXXVII. DIET.

MILK is the food designed by nature for young animals, and should be given them in its recent state. As the cream is the most nourishing part of the milk, and is easier of digestion than the coagulable or cheesy part; and as milk constitutes a principal portion of the aliment of children; to take off the cream once, or even twice, as is practised in some boarding schools, before it is given to the children, is a shameful circumstance of parsimony, and very injurious to their healths.—See sect. xxx, on punishments.

Nor should the milk given to children be long kept in a boiling heat; because much of its fragrant oil is then evaporated, [Page]as is evident from the fine odour of the steam of it, when taken from the fire; and its further deterioration from long boiling is shewn by its then inducing constipation, which is contrary to its effect in its recent and natural state.

Nevertheless even new milk does not always agree with children, after they have passed the years of infancy. For milk taken into the stomach must be always previously curdled or coagulated, before it can be digested, or converted into nourishment: Hence milk is always found curdled in the stomachs of calves, and the acid juice of their stomachs is used to coagulate their milk in the process of cheesemaking: Now the stomachs of young children abound more with this acid juice than in their riper years, and when a sufficient quantity of it is not produced for the purpose of curdling the milk, which they drink, it is liable to disagree.

[Page] To these few therefore, whose stomachs do not easily digest the coagulable part of milk, other fluid sood should be allowed to breakfast, as gruel, or tea with cream and sugar in it, and with bread and butter; and to supper, a slice of cold meat, or of cheese, or tart, or bread and butter, with small beer or water for drink; but it is probable, that milk might be made to agree with all stomachs, if it was previously curdled by rennet, as I have often recommended with success to elderly persons; or by letting it stand, till it becomes spontaneously sour like buttermilk, as is the custom of the inferior people of Scotland; except nevertheless where the distaste of the child is owing to prejudice or caprice, which is then incurable but by time.

For dinner animal food plain dressed, with vegetables or bread, and pudding of wheat flour, milk, and eggs, with sugar or butter, are more nourishing than vegetable [Page]sustenance alone. Wheat flour contains more nutriment than that of rice, or barley, or oats; as it possesses more starch in proportion to its bulk, and a gluten approaching to animal matter. But much salt or spice should not be allowed in the diet of children, as they are certainly unwholesome by inducing a weakness of the capillary and absorbent systems of vessels in consequence of their too great stimulus, and contain no nourishment.

As butter and sugar are perhaps the most nutritive of animal and vegetable substances, they may be more easily taken to excess; on which account some mistaken parents have totally prohibited the use of them; which is a great disadvantage to weaker children, who require more nutritive diet in less bulk than stronger ones.

For the drink of the more robust children water is preferable, and for the weaker ones, small beer; but in this, as well as [Page]in the choice of solid food, their palates should be consulted; for the nice discernment of this sense is bestowed on us by nature to distinguish, what the stomach can best digest. It should however be observed, that in artificial viands the taste cannot distinguish, what is unwholesome; as sugar may be mixed with arsenic. So in the drinking of fermented liquors, as ale or wine, which are chemical productions, the palate is not to be consulted; a glass of mere wine should never be given to children, as it injures their tender stomachs like a glass of brandy or rum or gin to a grown person; and induces those diseases, which it is often erroneously given to prevent; as weakness of digestion, with the production of worms in consequence. Wine nevertheless diluted with thrice its quantity of water may be allowed, if required, instead of small beer; or ale or cider diluted with thrice their quantities of water.

[Page] Ripe fruits, or fruit pies, are peculiarly serviceable to the constitutions of children, as well as agreeable to their palates; as they are known to prevent biliary concretions, and consequent jaundice; and on the same account to render the skin clearer and fairer, as well as to counteract the tendency to putrid diseases. These should therefore be allowed to children at all seasons; and may either occasionally constitute a part of their diet; or may be recommended to them, when they lay out part of their pocket-money with hucksters, in preference to seed-cakes, gingerbread, or sugar-plumbs; the former of which are generally made of bad flour deteriorated by spice; and the latter are liable to be coloured with gamboge, vermillion, verdigrease, or other noxious drugs.

Too long fasting, or food of less nourishment than they have been accustomed to, are peculiarly injurious to children; as they weaken their power of digestion, impair [Page]their strength, and impede their growth. The children of the inferior poor, and of families, which have adopted some ill-advised rules of abstemious diet, are frequently starved into the scrophula, and become pale-faced and bloated, owing to deficiency of the quantity of blood, and to want of sufficient stimulus to the absorbent system.

If young people are thought to be too corpulent, a diminution of food with an increase of exercise, when they have obtained their full growth, may be used with advantage; but even then not without caution. Since young ladies, after they have left school, who by ill advice use too great abstinence, are liable to become pale and emaciated, and to fall into universal debility; which remains through a diseased and comfortless life.

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SECTION XXXVIII. ECONOMY.

1. A DUE regard to the prudent expenditure of their money, a proper care of their clothes, and a parsimonious attention to the lapse of time, should be inculcated into the minds of young ladies. To effect these purposes one efficacious method, where the usual exhortations fail, may be to suffer their imprudence to produce some inconvenience to themselves; which they should be permitted to feel to a proper degree.

Thus a profuse unnecessary expenditure of their pocket money will shortly induce poverty; which should by no means be alleviated by a fresh supply of money; till the inconvenience produced has effected [Page]a conviction of the impropriety of their conduct. Except when the expenditure has been made for some laudable purpose, and then no time should be lost in restoring the power of repeating it.

The same mean may be used in respect to their omission to take care of their clothes; they should find the necessity of repairing them with their own hands, or of foregoing some visiting amusements, till new ones can be procured; that thus the consequent inconvenience may teach them economy, if they are otherwise too inattentive to the usual admonitions on these subjects.

In respect to the economy of time the hours of amusement and of exercise should be regularly counted; and the length of time young ladies employ in dressing should be nicely attended to; as in adult life the hours consumed at the toilet of some ladies is perfectly ridiculous, and detains [Page]them from more important duties. Perhaps a stated time might be allowed the young ladies for adjusting the articles of their dress, that they might acquire a habit of disposing them with neatness, taste, and elegance, and yet with expedition.

2. Men are generally trained from their early years to the business or profession, in which they are afterwards to engage; but it most frequently happens to ladies, that tho' destined to the superintendance of a future family, they receive scarcely any previous instruction; but begin this important office with a profound ignorance of the value of money, and of the proper application of the things, which surround them.

Many young ladies destitute of mothers, and without a home, are continued at school to a later age; such should be formed into a class, and properly instructed in domestic economy; each of them [Page]superintending the business of the family, a week or a month by turns; not only providing for the table, and directing the cookery, but they should also be taught other parts of domestic employment, as cutting out linens, and making them up with plain and strong needle work, either for their own families, or to be given as clothing for necessitous infants or mothers.

Such an addition of domestic knowledge and benevolent industry to ornamental accomplishments would give the school, that procures it, a decided advantage over other schools, which have no such institution.

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SECTION XXXIX. SCHOOL-EDUCATION.

THE advantages of a school-education, where twenty or thirty children are properly instructed, over that in a private family are derived from several sources. First, it must be observed, that almost all our exertions in early life are owing to our imitating others; in childhood we are most liable to imitate the actions of those, who are somewhat older than ourselves; and in manhood, of those who are in somewhat higher life; whence the general prevalence of fashion in dress and manners. Now there are more examples to cause imitative activity in well conducted schools, and the children in consequence become more active in the pursuit of their studies, [Page]and in the acquirement of their accomplishments.

It may be added, that not only children, before they have acquired the use of reason or voluntary deliberation, but that the greatest part of adult mankind learn all the common arts of life by imitating others; and that even dumb creatures seem capable of acquiring knowledge with greater facility by imitating each other, than by any methods, by which we can teach them. Thus dogs, when they are sick, learn of each other to eat grass as an emetic; and cats to moisten their paws for the purpose of washing their faces. And the readiest way to instruct all brute animals is by practising them with others of the same species; which have already learnt the arts, we wish them to acquire, as explained in Zoonomia, vol. I. sect. 22.3.

[Page] A second advantage of schools, when well conducted, is that children often take pleasure in teaching each other, insomuch that at boy's schools I have often observed, that the lower classes have learnt more from their school-fellows of the higher classes, than even from their masters; which has sometimes arisen from the friendship, or vanity of the elder boy, and sometimes from the solicitation of the lower one; but has in all cases been advantageous to both of them.

A third superiority of school education arises from an emulation, which naturally exists, where many pursue the same studies, but which should not be encouraged by rewards or degradations; as it then may degenerate into envy or hatred; but should in general be left intirely to its own operation; as mentioned in sect. xxx.

A fourth advantage of school-education is from the children acquiring a [Page]kind of practical physiognomy; which renders them more intelligent, and more interesting companions; and is of greater consequence in our passage through life, than almost any single accomplishment, as explained in sect. vi. and sect. xxiv. of this work.

Fifthly, where languages are learnt by conversation, as is generally practised in teaching the French language, a school-education properly conducted, is much superior to that of a governess in a private family. And languages are so much easier taught to children by conversation than by the abstract rules of grammar, that Mr. Locke is solicitous to have the latin and greek languages taught by conversation in boys' schools; and thinks the time of learning words might thus be much shortened, which now occupies seven or eight years; part of which might be much better employed in acquiring the knowledge of things.

[Page] The Philosopher, who despising the goods of fortune said, "he was rich, though he carried about with him every thing, which he possessed," meant to assert, that strength of mind joined with strength of body, were superior to any other advantages of life. A good education furnishes us with this inestimable treasure; it accompanies us at home, travels with us abroad; delights us in solitude, graces us in society; comforts us in misfortune, guards us in prosperity; contributes to the happiness of others, and ensures our own.

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SECTION XL. CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

I BEG leave to apprize the reader, that I have inserted a great part of the following catalogue of books for the younger children, because they were recommended to me by ladies, whose opinions I had reason to regard, and not from my own attentive perusal of them; which has been prevented by my other necessary occupations. Such of them therefore, as are less generally known, a parent or governess will please to read, before they put them into the hands of their children. And I can only add, that if I had myself been better acquainted with them, the collection would probably have been less numerous.

LEARNING TO REAP.—SEC. 3.

[Page]SPELLING-Book, by D. Fenning.

Harry and Lucy.

Mrs. Barbauld's Spelling-Books.

Mrs. Barbauld's Lessons.

Fabulous History of Robins, by Mrs. Trimmer.

Fairy Spectator.

Circuit of Human Life.

Scenes for Children.

Rational Sports.

Rational Dame.

History of England, with cuts. 1 vol.

Looking-Glass for the Mind, with cuts by Bewick.

Cobwebs to catch Flies. 2 vols.

Little Truths. 2 vols.—Little Mentor.

Blind Child.—Poor Child's Friend.

Davenport Family.—Letitia Lively.

[Page] Visit for a Week, or Hints on the Improvement of Time.

Village School. 2 vols.

Prince Le Boo.

Sandford and Merton. 3 vols.

Parent's Assistant. 3 vols.

Evenings at Home, 6 vols.

Leisure Hours, by P. Wakefield, 2 vols.

Mental Improvement, by P. Wakefield, 2 vols.

Juvenile Anecdotes.

Pleasing Instructor, 2 vols.

Rudiments of Reason, 3 vols.

Rural Walks, by Ch. Smith, 2 vols.

Rambles farther, by Ch. Smith, 2 vols.

Juvenile Magazine.

Governess of an Academy.

Progress of Man and Society, by Trusler.

Beauties of the Creation, by Riley.

Mentoria, by Ann Murry.

Gay's Fables.—Dodsley's Esop's Fables.

There are innumerable other books published for the use of children from one penny to a shilling and upwards by almost every bookseller in London. Many of the above are the works of reputable writers; and the others have been recommended to me by those, who have perused them.

GRAMMAR. SECT. 5.

[Page]Grammatical Introduction.

Mrs. Devis' Rudiments of Grammar.

Lowth's Introduction to English Grammar.

Ash's Grammar.—Smetham's practical Grammar.

Johnson's English Dictionary, Oct. edit.

Entick's Spelling Dictionary.

General Grammar, by Messrs. Port Royal.

Took's Epea Pteroenta, or Diversions of Purley.

Jeu de Grammaire, par de Gaultier.

These three last treat of Grammar too minutely and artificially, rather as a science itself, than as an aid to facilitate the acquirement of languages, and are therefore less adapted to schools.

FRENCH LANGUAGE. SECT. 6.

Chambaud's Grammar and Vocabulary.

Cours de Lectures pour Les Enfans, par Abbe Gaultier.

La Bagatelle, 2 vols.

Petites Miscel. pour les Enfans.

Le Magazin des Enfans, par M. de Beaumont.

Education complete, par M. de Beaumont.

Instruction pour les Jeunes Dames.

[Page] Theatre d'Education, par Mde. de Genlis.

Les Veillies du Chateau, par Mde. de Genlis.

L'Ami des Enfans, par Berquin.

L'Ami des Adolescents, par Berquin.

Mythologie des Jeunes Demoiselles, par M. de la Mimardiere, 2 vols. 12 mo. Fr. & Eng.

Conversations d'Emilie, French & English.

Lodoick, French & English, 6 vols.

Idylles de Gesner.

Oevres de Florian.—Les Petites Montagnards.

La Campagne de la Jeunesse:—Varietes Historique.

L'Eleve et son Instructrice.

Drames et Dialogues de Mad, de la Fite.

Questions par Mad. de la Fite.

Fables de Cambray.

Letters de Mad. de Lambert a son fils.

Discours fur l'Histoire universal, par Bossuet.

Gil Blas.—Paul et Virginie, par St. Pierre.

Letters d'une Peruvienne.—Lettres de Sevigne.

Voyages de Cyrus. Numa Pompilius. Telemaque.

Voyages de Jeune Anacharsis, 6 vols. 12mo.

ITALIAN LANGUAGE. SEC. 6.

Tasso.—Metastasio.—Select Plays of Goldoni.

Scelta Italiane.

A selection of Metastasio's Works, in 2 vols. small.

[Page] Ganganelli.—Bentivoglio.—Pastor Fido.

Gil Blas, translated into Italian.

Lettres d'une Peruvienne, translated into Italian, with accents.

Telemaco, a translation from Telemaque.

Baretti's Italian Grammar.

Baretti's Italian Dictionary.

Baretti's Italian Library, 8vo.

The greatest part of these French and Italian books for the use of children, as well as very many English ones, may be had at Mr. Peacock's juvenile library, Oxford-street, London.

ARITHMETIC. SEC. 7.

Vise's Tutor's Guide.—Hutton's practical Arithmetic.

Wingate's Arithmetic.

Walkingam's Tutor's Assistant.

GEOGRAPHY. SEC. 8.

Large well-colour'd four sheet Maps of the World, of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and of England.

Geographical Cards by Newbury.

[Page] Geographical Cards by Bowles.

Geographical Cards with prints of dresses.

Fairman's Geography, 8vo.

Turner's Geography, 12mo.

Faden's Maps with blank outlines.

Moral System of Geogrophy, 12mo.

Harris on the Globes

Guthrie's Geographical Grammar.

Brookes' Gazetteer.

Abbe Gaultier's jeu de Geography.

CIVIL HISTORY. SEC. 9.

History of England, with prints.

Characters of Kings of England, with heads by Bewick.

Trimmer's Histories of England, Greece, and Rome.

Riley's historical pocket Library, 6 vols. 12mo.

Rollin's Ancient History.

Goldsmith's Histories of Greece, Rome, England, and Scotland.

Millot's Elements of History.—Plutarch's Lives.

Priestley's Lectures on History.

Priestley's Chart of History.

Priestley's Chart of Biography.

Mrs. Chapone's Letter on Chronology.

Circle of Sciences, by Newberry, 7th v. on Chronology

[Page] Voyages and Travels, by Mavor, now publishing in Nos.

Beauties of England.

Beauties of Nature and Art, 13 vols. 12mo.

Hume's and Henry's Histories of England; Robertson's Histories of Charles the 5th, and of America; with Rollin's and Millot's antient and modern Histories, are too voluminous for school books.

NATURAL HISTORY. SEC. 10.

Galton's Treatise on Birds, 3 vols. 12mo.

Natural History of Beasts and of Birds, 2 vols.

History of Quadrupeds, by Mrs. Teachwell, 2 vols.

Rational Dame.—Bewick's account of Quadrupeds.

Goldsmith's Animated Nature, 8 vols. 8vo.

Buffon's Natural History abridged, 2 vols. 8vo.

Dictionaire Raisonne, par Bomare, 6 vols. 8vo. is a very useful work on Natural History to be occasionally referred to, rather than to be read as a school book. Pennant's books of Zoology; Barbut's Histoire des Insects; White's Natural History of Selbourn; and many other works with numerous plates, are too voluminous or too expensive for the use of schools.

RUDIMENTS OF TASTE. SEC. 11.

[Page]Spectator, vol. 6, No. 411, to 422.—Burke on Sublime and Beautiful.

Blair's Lectures.—Hogarth's Analysis of Beauty.

Akenside's Pleasures of Imagination, 8vo.

Longinus on the Sublime, translated by Smith.

Mason's English Garden.—Wheatly on ornamental Gardening.

Price's Essay on Picturesque.—Gilpin's Picturesque Views.

Sir Joshua Reynolds' Discourses to the Academy.

Clio on Taste.—Beauties of Shakespear.—Of Pope, 2 vols.—Of Johnson,—Of Rambler, Adventurer, &c. 2 vols.—Of Stern,—Of Spectator, Tatler, &c. 2 vols.

Warton's History of Poetry.—Pope's Essay on Criticism.

Addison's Criticisms on Milton in the Spectator.

Spence's Criticism on Pope's Odyssy.—Mrs. Montague's Essay on Shakespear.

Warton's Essay on Pope, 2 vols. 8vo.

Lord Kaim's Elements of Criticism, 2 vols.

This last work is highly ingenious, but too abstruse for young ladies, who might more easily improve their taste in respect to visible objects by frequently being shewn with proper remarks a select collection of the printe of beautiful landscapes, or of beautiful figures.

HEATHEN MYTHOLOGY. SEC. 13.

[Page]Young Ladies Mythology, by Miss de la Mimardiere, 2 vols. 12mo.

Bell's Pantheon, 4to.—The notes in Pope's translation of Homer.

Dannet's Dictionary, in French or English, 4to.

Instruction sur le Metamorphoses d' Ovide, par M. Ragois.

Garth's Translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses.

Spence's Polymetis, folio.—Bryant's Mythology, 3 vols. 4to.

Abbe de Pluche's History of the Heavens, 2 vols. 8vo

These three last works are too difficult or too voluminous for young ladies, who might learn heathen mythology more casily and more agreeably from a select collection of the impressions from antique gems and medallions, or of prints of antient statues.

DISSERTATIONS. SEC. 14.

Spectator, 8 vols.—Guardian, 2 vols.

Tatler, 6 vols.—The World, 4 vols.

Rambler, 4 vols.—Adventurer, 4 vols.

[Page] Mirror, 3 vols.—Anacharsis, translated from the French, 7 vols. 8vo.

Conversations of Emelia, 2 vols.—Turkish Spy.

Essays for young Ladies, by Miss H. Moore.

Improvement of the Mind, by Mrs. Chapone,

Lambert's Advice to a Son and Daughter,

Gregory's Advice to a Daughter.—Locke on Education.

Miss Bowdler's Works, 2 vols. 8vo.—Miss Talbot's Works, 2 vols.

Calendar of Nature, by Dr. Akin,

Introduction to the Knowledge of Nature.

Hallifax's Advice to a Daughter.—Fitzosborn's Letters,

Con Phillips's Whole Duty of Woman.

Lord Chesterfield's Letters; the 1st volume only, 4 vols. 8vo.

Some of Lady W. Montague's Letters, 2 vols.

Rollin's Belles Lettres, 4 vols. 12mo.

British Plutarch.—Johnson's Lives of the Poets.

Aikin's Life of Howard.—Keir's Life of Day.

Franklin's Life, by himself.—Enfield's Speaker.

Elegant Extracts, 3 vols. large octavo.

Preceptor, 2 vols.

The English and French prose translation of some of the antient classics should be added, as Mrs. Carter's Epictetus; Mrs. Fielding's Xenophon; Melmouth's [Page]Epistles of Pliny, and of Cicero to his Friends; and the Abbe Mongault's of those to Atticus; and many others.

PLAYS. SEC. 14.

Addison's Cato.—Thomson's Tragedies.

Caractacus and Elfrida, by Mr. Mason.

Edgar and Elfrida—.Cumberland's Comedies.

Sheridan's Comedies.—Beauties of Shakespear.

Sacred Dramas, by Miss Moore.—Sacred Dramas, by Mad. de Genlis.

Sacred Dramas, by Metastasio.

L'Ami des Enfans.—Theatre of Education, by Mad. de Genlis.

Tragedies de Racine.—Tragedies de Corneille.

NOVELS. SEC. 14.

Sandford and Merton, 3 vols.

Children's Friend, by Berquin.

New Robinson Crusoe.

Adelard and Theodore, by Mad. de Genlis.

Tales of the Castle, by Mad. de Genlis, 5 vols.

Moral Tales, by Dr. Percival,

Moral Tales, by Miss Mitchel, 2 vols. 8vo.

Stories from Life, by M. Wolstencrost.

[Page] Rasselas, by Dr. Johnson, with Continuation.

Agatha, 1 vol. 12mo.—Plain Sense, 3 vols. 12mo.

Disobedience, 4 vols. 12mo.—Edward, by the Author of Zelucco.

Evelina, by Miss Burney, 2 vols.—Cecilia, by Miss Burney, 5 vols.

Camilla, by Miss Burny, 5 vols.

Emmeline and Ethelinda, by Ch. Smith.

Simple Story, by Mrs. Inchbald.

Emily Montague, by Miss Brooks. Female Quixotte, 2 vols.

Belisarius, by Marmontel,—Caroline de Leitchfield,

Les Romans de L'Abbé Prevot.

Laure, 5vols. 12mo.

POEMS. SEC. 14.

Gay's Fables.—Thomson's Seasons.

Gisborne's Walks in a Forest.—Moore's Fable's for the Female Sex.

Hayley's Serena, and his Epistles.—Cowper's Task.

Gray's Poems,—Collins' Poems.

Goldsmith's Poems, 2 vols.—Lord Lyttleton's Poems.

Addison's Poems.—Carter's Poems.

Aikin's Poems.—Jerningham's Poems.

Akenside's Pleasures of Imagination.

[Page] Mason's Works, 3 vols. 8 vo.—Milton's Poetical Works.

Pope's translation of Homer's Iliad.

Pope's translation of Homer's Odyssey.

Pope's Works,—Dr. Warton's edition.

Garth's translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses.

Dryden's, or Pitt's translation of Virgil.

Hoole's translation of Tasso's Jerusalem deliver'd, 2 vols.

Mickle's translation of Camoen's Lusiad.

Botanic Garden, 2 vols.

Dodsley's Collection of Poems.

Elegant Extracts, in verse.

Henriade de Voltaire.

ARTS AND SCIENCES. SEC. 15.

Lee's Introduction to Botany.

Botanical Dialogues, for the use of Schools, by M. E. Jackson.

Families of Plants, translated from Linneus, 2 vols.

System of Vegetables, from Linneus, 2 vols.

Notes on vol. II. of Botanic Garden.

Curtis's Botanical Magazine, with colour'd prints; many volumes of which are already publish'd and which continues to be now publish'd at one shilling a number, 1797.

Martyn's translation of Rosseau's Letters on Botany.

Lavoisier's Elements of Chymistry, 2 vols. 8vo.

[Page] Fourcroy's Philosophy of Chymistry,

Watson's Chymical Essays.

Kirwan's Mineralogy, 2 vols. 8vo.

Notes on Vol. I, of Botanic Garden.

Grey's Memoria Technica.

Gurney's Short-Hand.

Ladies' Encyclopedia, by Seally, 3 vols. 12mo.

Circle of Sciences, 7 vols. small.

Introduction to Arts and Sciences, by Turner, 1 vol.

MORALITY. SEC. 21.

Elements of Morality, translated from Salzmann, 3 vols.

Gisborne's Duties of the Female Sex.

Letters of Lady Russel, 8vo.

Economy of Human Life.

Old Whole Duty of Man.

Paley's System of Morality.

Gisborne's Answer to Paley.

These two last works are too scientific for young minds to encounter.

RELIGION. SEC.

Select parts of Scripture.

Barbauld's Hymns.

Sacred Dramas, by Charl. Smith

Sacred Dramas, by Mad. de Genlis.

Sacred Dramas, by Metastasio.

[Page] Old Whole Duty of Man.

Blair's Sermons, 4 vols.

Carr's Sermon's.—Ogden's Sermons.

Baron Haller's Letter to his Daughter.

Lady Pennington's Advice to her Daught.

Fashionable Religion, by Miss H. Moore.

Wisdom of God in the Creation, by Ray.

Durham's Physico-Theology.

Divine Benevolence asserted, by Dr. Balguy.

Trimmer's Sacred History, 6 vols.

Butler's Analysis.

Paley's Evidences of Christianity, 2 vols. 8vo.

Books of controversial divinity are not recommended to Ladies.

§

§

§

[Page]

RUDIMENTS OF TASTE IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM A MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTERS.

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PREFACE.

CORNELIA, daughter of Scipio Africanus, and mother of the Gracchi, was not more distinguished by the Nobility of her rank, than by the lustre of those virtues which adorned her character—a most pleasing and amiable trait of which shines in that little incident recorded to her immortal honour. A Lady of Ionia coming one day to visit her, impatiently expected to be shewn the splendor and magnificence of her toilette, which she supposed, from her rank and fortune, to be very superb. The illustrious Roman prolonged the conversation till her children were at hand, and then introducing them to her visitor—"These, says she, are my jewels."

[Page] The writer of these Letters has so great a veneration for the domestic character of this Lady, that she thinks she cannot do better than give them to the public, under the signature of Cornelia. And whatever their other defects may be, they have this at least to recommend them, that the same sentiments of maternal tenderness which influenced the Roman Matron, gave rise to these epistles, and prompted a fond Mother to become an Author.

[Page]

RUDIMENTS OF TASTE.

LETTER I.

A DESIRE of happiness is the first propensity of the heart.—It is born with us, and to attempt its suppression were equally fruitless and wrong; for the Author of Nature has done nothing in vain, and the happiness he has imprinted on the mind so clear an idea of, has somewhere an existence.

Hitherto you have obeyed the impulse of nature in the artless pursuits of childhood; but the time is at hand, when this sweet tranquillity will be interrupted by the bustle of the world, which will not longer permit you to repose in the simple amusements of dressing dolls, pursuing butterflies, or plucking, daisies. Sweet [Page]dear delights of innocence: on which, as you climb the rugged heights of life, you will look back with fond regret.

But we are not born for ourselves alone; and therefore have duties to perform, obligations to discharge, and difficulties to encounter; in the course of which, many a severe check is given to this happiness which we all so ardently seek; yet the desire of it will even acquire strength by the repulse, and there was never yet a wretch who had found it diminished by misfortune. I wish the success of this passion could be shewn as demonstrable as its existence.

But the truth is, all mankind are running after the same object, though in such opposite directions, that if it were not for their concurrent testimony, it would be scarcely credible that they had each the same view. Yet it is the fate of most of them to sit down at last, in the very same [Page]disposition which Solomon was in when he complained, rather peevishly it must be owned, that all was vanity and vexation of spirit. Man walks indeed in a vain shadow, and 'tis pitiable to reflect that a being of so transient a duration should yet waste the trifling portion of time allotted him in vain and fruitless pursuits, and after all the schemes of the sanguine, and the labours of the active, to find the desired attainment as far off as ever.

But this has been the case of millions, and I am afraid will continue to be so, at least till we are unanimous in deciding on that grand point wherein this good, of which we have all so high an idea, consists: an agreement from which alas, we are at the farthest distance imaginable. And here, my dearest girls, lies the whole of the mistake. The Creator has not been wanting to provide a happiness exalted as the mind itself can conceive; but man himself errs in the pursuit of it; some [Page]placing it in riches, some in power, scarcely one in an age supposing it to be where it really is—in the practice of virtue.

But while the human heart is set on acquirements, in which it can find no satisfaction if attained, the span of life must necessarily be passed in restless anxieties and melancholy disappointment. It was the aim of philosophy, to draw just estimates of things, and to prevent its pupils from being dazzled with the splendor of wealth and power; it taught that the sovereign good was to be found in rectitude of will. It would be a shame for us to be at a loss on such an important subject, who have received lessons from a much better master than ever gave lectures in the schools of Athens.

Rest assured that in the exercise of social and religious duties, the mind will find her solid happiness. Wandering in restless search, like Noah's dove, 'tis here she [Page]finds at length the welcome olive, the branch whose verdure blooms for immortality. Should you doubt the assertion, be prevailed on at least to try the experiment.

[Page]

LETTER II.

PLEASURE has something so alluring in the very name, that it is not surprising it finds so great a number of votaries. On no account would I have you insensible to its attractions, but rather lead you to its flowery paths, and conduct you to the most refined delights. These however you can never obtain, except you are guided in the choice by taste and judgment. A taste in pleasure is necessary for the selection of such as are above the enquiries of the vulgar, suitable to delicate and refined minds, and correspondent to the noblest sentiments; of course dependant more on intellectual, than on corporeal faculties. Taste never fails to reject whatever is gross and sensual; yet even among the more resined pleasures, a sound judgment is wanted, to discriminate the solid [Page]and rational, from the frivolous and fastidious. The elegant hand of fashionable dissipation has often given a polish to what, in its own nature, can never deserve the name of pleasure.

Under this head must be comprehended the various species of fashionable amusements, which are injurious either to health or fortune. One would scarcely suppose such pursuits as these should ever be dignified with the name of pleasure. Yet when numbers are daily seen hazarding, not only extravagant sums, but peace of mind also, at the gaming-table—When the order of nature is inverted, and the refreshments of repose are bartered for midnight routs, we must conclude that such valuable sacrifices are not made but with the expectation of some supreme pleasure to reward them: how seldom such rewards are found, can best be determined by the testimony of the dissipated and gay, who after they have wasted the most valuable [Page]blessings of life, as time, health, spirits, &c. will generally confess that they have never found the satisfactions they sought after.

To be able to divest real enjoyment from the false glosses the world has put upon it, is a piece of wisdom becoming a philosopher; but it is a piece of wisdom, you my dear girls, must also acquire, if you expect to be happy. Fashion has arrogated to itself the prerogative of fixing the criterion of pleasure; but fashion is often a dangerous director, and is at best an imperfect one; for who has a power of effectually biassing the natural disposition of another; if therefore what is called amusement be not agreeable to the real turn of the mind, it ceases to be viewed in that light, and can only be considered as an irksome conformity to the tastes of others.

Yet, abject as such a submission undoubtedly is, there are thousands who voluntarily [Page]yield to it who are content to live, move, and act, not as they like themselves, but as the polite world thinks fit to dictate. I am no advocate for affected singularity in things merely indifferent; but when the idol fashion breaks in upon the rules of virtue, as it too often does, or the true enjoyment of life, this is so mean a slavery that a rational being might be expected to despise it.

When therefore reason and religion have given the clue to your pleasures, resolve always to have them of your own chusing, and not of other people's. The sanction of numbers is the cause that draws youth from virtue and happiness: reason, when aided by a proper education, would, if left to herself, point out the way to both.

There are pleasures, my dear girls, to be met with in this journey of life, pure and sublime ones too, if we look for them through the medium of unvitiated tasle. [Page]Did you ever discharge a social duty, but upon looking into your heart, you there perceived a glow of satisfaction? But if you aim at more exalted, more rapturous sensations, give full scope to the impulses of benevolence; try what it is to heal the broken-hearted; diffuse joy through the mansions of sorrow, and rescue merit from the pressure of indigence and misfortune. —These employments are capable of yielding pleasures suitable to the most exalted capacities, boundless as the most sanguine imagination can paint them.

But if so vast a multitude have erred in the pursuit of pleasure, through levity, not an inconsiderable number, of a very opposite temper, are at equally as great a distance from it: these are the morose and cynical, who will not condescend to the sober satisfactions that are to be found in a domestic circle, where the social affections are cultivated: if the gay and volatile mistake the nature of pleasure, these seem to [Page]question its very existence, and pass thro' life without stooping to pick up even one of the fair blossoms which nature has scattered in the way.

Ever be your hearts open to the sweet emotions of social love, and you will not have cause to complain that the path of human life affords nothing but briars and thorns.

Nor is it from the relative duties alone we can derive happiness; the amusing, the interesting book of nature is open to all who can read it: here you meet with eternal variety, order, and beauty; a thousand charms await the mind which possesses a taste for simple pleasures; to such the whole creation is a boundless source of rational amusements. Happy, ineffably happy, they who can be pleased with artless nature, and contemplate, with delight, the noble imagery with which she abounds. For my part, I should desire no greater [Page]proof of the purity and elegance of your taste, than to hear you speak in raptures of the graceful foliage of a wood, the beauty of a lawn, or any of those charming rural scenes which are so often over-looked, for the far less nobler productions of art.

Esteem me ever the most affectionate of your friends.

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LETTER III.

EVERY one knows that human life is exposed to various miseries; but every one does not know, at least does not consider, that the far greater part of these miseries spring from the passions: yet the passions, you reply, are implanted in us by nature—we cannot eradicate them.

That is true; you cannot eradicate the passions, nor is it expedient you should; for as we are the workmanship of Infinite Wisdom, so doubtlessly the propensities He has formed us with, are in themselves very good; but then their good or ill tendency must be determined by this single question, Whether they govern us, or we govern them? In the latter case they resemble those salutary breezes, which waft health and sweetness on their wings: in [Page]the former they may be compared to certain hurricanes, which tear up all before them, and deform the beauteous aspect of the most luxuriant climates. There is more felicity to be found in the world than is often supposed; but never let us pretend to look for it before we have silenced the passions; the perpetual contention we must have with them will else interrupt our successful search.

Pride, my dear girls, is a vice that springs up in the mind, almost without her attending to it: its characters are an immoderate self-love, conceitedness, and arrogance, with a profound contempt of every other person; ever insatiable in its desire of respect, extremely susceptible of the slightest affronts, and jealous of the least tribute of applause paid to another. Persons of this cast cannot in the nature of things be happy, as they may be said to live in a state of hostility with all the world; like Ishmael, they have their hands against [Page]every man, and every man's hand is against them.

Ambition condemns its wretched votary to forego the sweets of content and present ease, for the uneasy dreams of rank and power. It is happy for the world when fate denies to the ambitious that power to which their desires are perpetually aspiring. Innumerable are the horrid deeds, which the historic page records, that have been perpetrated by the impulse of this restless passion; yet if in pity to mankind, its direful effects are restrained, still the bosom where it rages must be a prey to inexpressible agonies.

Envy is a natural attendant on pride and ambition: it has very aptly been compared to a vulture preying on the vitals, and there could not possibly have been devised a more expressive similitude. That mind which is capable of regarding with the least degree of regret, the more fortunate [Page]acquirements of another as a perpetual source of disquietude and must ever pine beneath the inexpressible misery, which is both the consequence and the punishment of so base a propensity. As envy is the meanest of all the passions, so in its own nature it is the most opposite to happiness.

Covetousness is a vice that absorbs every finer feeling of the soul. Whatever sordid satisfaction the miser may feel in amassing his treasures, yet the cares which unavoidably attend it, and the solicitude the preservation of it demands, more than balance the selfish gratification. He knows nothing of the sweet emotions of charity and benevolence, and must be ever a stranger to the noble sensations they excite.—It is well if the suggestions of his boundless avarice do not prompt him beyond the bounds of integrity. The honesty of a covetous person can be but doubtful at the best.

[Page] A revengeful disposition is as dreadful to society as burdensome to itself: it is the whirlwind of the soul, which under its dominion resembles a fury of the infernal regions. What sad catastrophes have been effected by revenge! what inexpressible torment overwhelms the heart, where that dreadful venom operates!

It is easy to perceive, by the slightest glance, that every one of the passions here enumerated are totally destructive of peace: there can be no such thing as tranquillity in the breast which they inhabit. Let it, then, be the care of my dearest girls, to guard against the fatal ascendancy of either of them. There cannot be a more lamentable object than a human being who submits to become the sport of passions: a barque in a storm, driven by winds, and shattered by the tempest, exhibits but a faint picture of such a wretch, whose days pass in continual anguish; he looks for peace, but finds despair; casts oblique reflections [Page]on the wisdom and goodness of Providence; distrusts his attributes; cuffes his own being and dies if possible more wretched than he lived.

The infinitely wise and good Creator saw the abundant evil that would accrue to mankind from the degeneracy of the passions, and therefore in his goodness determined at an appointed time to promulgate a religion, the aim of which should be to regulate the passions, and direct them to their proper channel; such is the Christian revelation; in its ends and nature an antidote to moral evil.

Perhaps the natural passions of the human mind may be reduced to two—the love of pleasure and the love of praise; and from the corruptions of these may be traced every irregular affection of the heart—when men no longer knew the true source from whence to look for happiness, or approbation, it is not much wonder it [Page]should be sought in power, riches and preeminence; not that the love of these should branch into self-love, vain glory, and all the other evil passions, which cause so much misery in the world.

The regulation of the heart and its desires, is a point then of the utmost importance, since on it depends your present peace and eternal glory. "Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." And when you have repelled the approach of any passion, guard still more effectually against its entrance, by endeavouring to establish in your mind the contrary virtue;—as for instance, subdue pride and cherish humility; guard against the desire of power and riches, by attaining that poverty of spirit which is content with little, and desires no applause but that of Heaven.

Never lose sight of this truth—that there is no happiness adequate to the capacities [Page]of the human soul, but what is found in the exercise of piety and virtue; nor any praise worthy her regard, but what results immediately therefrom.

[Page]

LETTER IV.

THE most glorious conquest you can possibly obtain is that of yourselves. Solomon was of opinion, that he who could govern his own spirit, had attained a much higher point of dominion, than if he should rule a kingdom. It is certainly much easier to give wise and upright laws to others, than to obey them ourselves; and when you can controul your own inclination, you will have learned the whole essence of moral philosophy.

But a negative virtue is not all that is to be attained, although thousands content with it, maintain through life the character of good sort of people.—The epithet, however, contains no very high eulogium, those good kind of folks seldom rise above a mediocrity in goodness. It certainly is [Page]not sufficient to abstain from evil, a christian must be distinguished by active virtue.

The Christian religion is a beautiful comment on the moral law. The priest who passed by the wounded Jew, was, for aught we are told to the contrary, a very good sort of man, and had some sentiments of compassion, for he went and looked on the poor creature, and no doubt kindly wished it had been in his power to relieve him; but the good, the benevolent Samaritan, was the generous, active friend, whose character will never be read without being admired. The lawyer also possessed a tolerable share of negative merit, having always kept the commandments; yet says our Saviour, thou lackest one thing—that heroic benevolence, which disregards all attention to selfish gratification, in the noble ardour with which it contributes to the necessities of mankind.

These instances are fine illustrations of the Mosaic dispensation, and eminently [Page]tend to exalt human nature to the highest possible perfection. It is not enough, say the gospel tenets, that ye refrain from actual violence to any one—you shall love your enemies, and do good to those that hate you. Severe injunction!—yet you see by it to how refined a pitch the virtue of a christian must aspire.

Do not then rest satisfied with being as just or kind as the letter of the law exacts—be actively good, and seek occasions of exercising your kindness and charity—to administer as far as we are able to the wants of our fellow creatures—to reclaim the vicious—to vindicate the character of the injured—assert the claims of the friendless and oppressed—reconcile differences, and be indefatigable in the promotion of peace and happiness to all within the compass of our ability, are employments worthy of a rational being.

There are many cases that occur in life, wherein those who will obey only the [Page]rules of legal justice, must fall short of those notions of honesty, which natural reason and conscience suggest; as a good mind wants not the bonds of human laws, so on some occasions it rises to a generosity that is superior to their narrow limits. Obey the innate ideas of rectitude which God himself has stamped on the human soul—and think it not sufficient to be just, except you are generous also.

Let your conduct be regulated by the nicest rules of propriety and prudence; and let your bosoms glow with the enthusiasm of virtue, that you may ever shine forth the steady, zealous friend, the benevolently active neighbour, and the truly useful member of society; considering yourselves as citizens of the world, whose only business it is to do good.

[Page]

LETTER V.

BUT so exalted and refined a turn of sentiment is never the production of ignorance. It is only in cultivated minds we must look for it; for the prime fruits of virtue grow not in the soil that has never been broken up by moral instruction. A virtuous and intelligent friend is perhaps the most valuable acquisition a young person can make; but as one of this description may never sall to your lot, supply the want thereof, as well as you can, by books.

By all means cultivate a taste for reading, but take care that your taste be a just one—that is, be more desirous of instruction than amusement or you will profit but little by literary pursuits. Those who read merely to please the [Page]imagination, may be sure of not reading to advantage, and do seldom acquire a relish for works of solid merit and utility. I have never known a young person who was passionately fond of novels capable of relishing any thing superior to them. For my own part, I had rather see a girl wholly ignorant of the alphabet, than attached to that species of writing; for I am convinced that infinitely more have erred in the conduct of life from that cause, than from any other. The sentiments and ideas they impress, are fatal illusions to mislead the poor reader, who, after wasting days and years in the study, is still an utter stranger to the world she lives in—and, what is worse, inspired with the most erroneous notions of it, which commonly lead to some false step, or ill-judged connection, that secures her a wretch for life. It cannot be otherwise—for the scenes, characters, and incidents, these books describe, are to be found no where but in the author's romantic [Page]fancy. They have nothing to do with the real knowledge of the world; and consequently, those who think to steer through it by such guides, must, in the end, find themselves mistaken. Just as well may a traveller think to make the tour of Europe by a chart of Asia.

If curiosity must be amused, and the imagination pleased, why may not the understanding be improved at the same time? This is very practicable, for there are many works of genius extremely well calculated to answer each of these ends; but they are not the histories of Sir such a one, Miss what d'ye call um, or any of those futile productions, which the press daily emits, to vitiate the taste, and corrupt the principles of the age.

There is a certain mental vigour necessary to virtue as well as to happiness, but modern novels, under the specious [Page]mask of refined sentiments, introduce a dangerous softness that has often destroyed both. True refinement is the glory of a rational creature, but whatever enervates the mind, must debase it. Lycurgus thought so, I suppose, when he banished the poets from his commonwealth; yet surely he lived near enough to Athens to have learned to draw a proper line between ferocity and effeminacy.

The passion for novelty, so inherent in youth, may be abundantly gratified, by the study of history. Here you meet with new and uncommon events—become acquainted with a variety of characters, and are enabled to form a just estimate of mankind; for except allowing for a few local customs or prejudices, human nature was the same two thousand years ago as at this time. There is something extremely agreeable to the mind in weighing and examining the [Page]actions of celebrated personages, who, in their day, made the mighty tremble—in marking the rise or fall of empires, and to be able to determine the secret causes of those revolutions which once astonished the world.

The ages appear as inconsiderable points, to those who are acquainted with history—they see the various nations of the earth pass in review before them, and trace a more than human power busy in the affairs of men—by taking in at one comprehensive view so vast a tract of time, they discern the nice connections of that scheme of Providence, which often appears broken and irregular, when contemplated only through the medium of a few years.

It is almost impossible to be well versed in the characters of the politer nations of antiquity, without watching something of that magnanimity which distinguished them; and I know not why an acquaintance [Page]with their manners should not be thought as necessary in the system of FEMALE EDUCATION, as it usually is in that of the other sex. If the Greek and Roman veterans displayed qualities which the heroes of the present day would be proud to imitate, their wives and daughters were often patterns of such virtue, as would be allowed to dignify a lady of the eighteenth century.

Read modern history as well as antient—the knowledge of the nations who inhabit the globe as well as yourselves, is amusing and interesting—the heart, too, may be the better for it—narrow prejudices are removed, and the better mankind become acquainted with each other, the more the divine principle of philanthropy must be extended. National enmity has no other parent but ignorance—the enlightened, the philosophic mind, even through the veil of different tongues and customs, can discern a kindred being—a member [Page]of that universal family, whose head is the Deity.

Next to travelling itself, nothing tends more to enlarge the ideas than journals of travels and voyages, if the writers have been faithful and accurate; and you will read them with infinite pleasure, if you have been careful to acquire a knowledge of geography. This renders you familiar with the countries you read of—You recollect their soil, climate, and productions —know their respective boundaries, and can readily mark out their place on the globe.

Having thus, my dear girls, pointed out to you so exhaustless a source of amusement, I will only for the present add, that I am, &c.

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LETTER VI.

AS long as curiosity continues a leading feature in the human character, Biography will form a favourite species of reading. Every body is eager to pry into the private character of a celebrated personage, and are better pleased to know, how such an one acts in domestic life, than in the senate, or the field. And, indeed, it is there that the best estimate of the real description can be formed.

The private lives of famous persons afford much edification to the reader; the vice or meanness too often there displayed, teaches us not to be dazzled by the blaze of popularity or power; and to contemn that virtue which is built on the desire of fame alone. If on the other hand, by following these darlings of fame to the closet, [Page]or the fire-side, we discover the same nobleness of heart that distinguishes them with the multitude, justly they become patterns for our example; the mind rejoices to find something about them that is imitable, for though few are called forth as distinguished actors on the theatre of the world, all may, if they please, be great in private life: That is, may acquire those amiable qualities of mind, which can only constitute real greatness; without which the hero is no more than a hypocrite, and even the robe of royalty, but a tinsel ornament to cover real meanness.

Your chief aim should be the knowledge of the human heart, and that is in general more fully discovered in trifling traits and circumstances, than by important actions performed under the public eye. But you no where find human nature so impartially delineated, as in the sacred writings. There the historians, neither influenced by passion nor prejudice, [Page]relate both actions and their secret springs with unerring candour; never calumniating enemies, or stooping to flatter the favourites of their nation.

The Jewish writers had the fairest opportunities imaginable for exaggerating the virtues of their heroes, considering the miraculous powers so often exerted in their behalf. Such an adventure as that of David with Goliah, would have been thought by a Pagan writer, sufficient grounds for exalting his favorite to a God: yet the inspired Biographer has drawn that Prince with all his frailties about him; all the inequality of humanity; sometimes glowing with the rapturous devotion of a Seraphim;—at others, enslaved by the meanest passions. Such instances of candour, considered with the national pride of the Jews, leave no room to doubt the veracity of the sacred penman on any occasion.

[Page] The scriptures also finely illustrate many parts of profane history: we are told of embattled armies, and cities levelled with the dust; but it is only in holy writ we find those armies prophetically marshalled, and that destruction denounced perhaps an hundred years before the event. These are instances which impress the mind with reverence for the sacred records, and fill it with august ideas of the eternal Providence.

The works of our best moralists will not be unentertaining to you, if your taste for reading be as good as I wish it. Amongst the productions of this kind, are the Spectator and the Rambler; as conspicuous for the elegance of their language, as the soundness of their morality. But there are no better rules for the moral conduct of life, than are found in the writings of Solomon, and the Son of Sirach; which, though composed so many ages ago, may yet be read to much advantage, by those [Page]who would pass through life happily and and respect.

If you are fond of poetry, be careful to read only what is good of it. There is a kind of versification that tends to debase the mind;—wherever immortality or indelicacy is found, such must ever be the effect. Elegance of numbers though a requisite, is yet the lowest recommendation of good poetry;—its characteristics are dignity of thought, purity of expression, and, above all, the best principles of piety and morality. For this reason, those poetical pieces extant in the Bible, are by good judges, allowed to be truly sublime. Poetry in its original state, being only the harmonious effusions of a mind glowing with elevated sentiments of generosity, gratitude and devotion. Many of the Psalms are noble compositions, and neither for beauty of figure, or energy of expression, have ever been excelled.

[Page] Natural history affords a delightful study—it is not however expected that you should have a systematic idea of every vegetable, animal, or insect; but it is unpardonable, for one who is blest with leisure and opportunity, not to have at least a general knowledge of the most conspicuous of Nature's works:—to be ignorant of the beauty and properties of those, is to wander over the fair creation, as Thomson expresses it, "with brute unconscious gaze." The curious and intelligent spectator finds the variegated face of nature, a source of rational amusement, and reads in glowing characters the wisdom of the Deity. It is not in such pursuits that the human mind acquires those illiberal sentiments which so often disgrace it;—all it here finds is noble and beneficent, worthy that Divine Author, whom to know and adore, in the proper glory of an intelligent being.

[Page] Akenside has so elegantly expressed the pleasures attending a taste for the study and beauties of nature, that I will relieve you from the tediousness of this epistle, by transcribing a few of his admired lines.

O! blest of Heaven, whom not the languid songs

Of luxury, the syren! not the bribes

Of fordid wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils

Of pageant honour, can seduce to leave

Those ever blooming sweets, which from the store

Of Nature, fair Imagination culls

To charm th' enliven'd soul! What tho' not all

Of mortal offspring can attain the height

Of envied life; tho' only few possess

Patrician treasures, or imperial state;

Yet Nature's care, to all her children just,

Endows at large whatever happy man

Will deign to use them.

..................... For him the spring

Distils her dews, and from the silken gem

Its lucid leaves unfolds; for him the hand

Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch

With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn.

Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wings;

[Page] And still new beauties meet his lonely walk,

And loves unfelt attract him.—Not a breeze

Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes

The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain

From all the tenants of the warbling shade

Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake

Fresh pleasure unreprov'd:—nor then partakes

Fresh pleasure only; for the attentive mind,

By this harmonious action on her pow'rs,

Becomes herself harmonious; wont so oft

In outward things to meditate the charm

Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home

To find a kindred order, to exert

Within herself this elegance of love,

This fair inspired delight; her temper'd pow'rs

Refine at length, and ev'ry passion wears

A chaster, milder, more attractive mein.

....................Thus the men

Whom nature's works can charm, with God himself

Hold converse; grow familar day by day

With his conceptions; act on his plan;

And form to his the relish of their souls.

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LETTER VII.

AMONGST the accomplishments necessary to the female character, I think needle work may claim the first place, it having so close a connection with neatness which is indisputably requisite to render you comfortable to yourselves, or amiable in the esteem of others. The ladies of the last century certainly held needle-work in much greater estimation than those of the present; witness the many laborious performances that yet remain as proofs of their amazing industry in this respect—but the world is ever prone to extremes, and because this art was then pursued to the exclusion of every intellectual accomplishment, there are many in our days who seem to think it beneath their study or ambition.

The Mahometan sentiment which prevailed some years ago, of the inferiority of the female mind, seems exploded in this [Page]age of universal refinement: and a woman of cultivated understanding is no longer a phenomenon. The paths of knowledge are rendered accessible—men of learning have stooped from the elevations of science to accelerate the improvements of the other sex—they abridge, compile, explain for their assistance and advancement in polite literature.

Make all the use you possibly can of such advantages, and be convinced that the cultivation of the mind will exalt you in the estimation of rational beings—will open to you exhaustless sources of amusement and delight, of which the ignorant can have no conception. Yet be careful, my dear girls, never to overlook one feminine grace or accomplishment. There is a line of character drawn between the sexes, which neither can pass without becoming contemptible. It is not to make you despise those acquirements which have ever been appropriated to the female sex, that [Page]you are incited to mental attainments, but to render you still more valuable as women; and the better your minds are cultivated, the more you will see the propriety of attending to those minutiae which become the condition in which Providence has placed you.

I do not see how you can acquit yourselves tolerably in domestic life, without a knowledge of needle-work; but granting your rank and fortune may place you above the absolute necessity of learning that part of it which is called plain work—yet consider how far the ornamental kinds may be of use to amuse the intervals of pleasures, or other pursuits, as well as to promote the display of an elegant taste. Even our innocent amusements require variation, and the mind may be agreeably relieved, by imitating with the needle the beautiful productions of nature—but there is something which places a skill in needle work in a much more important point of view, [Page]and that is, the inconstancy of fortune, which in her capricious moods has been often known to compel those, whom once she smiled on, to procure their subsistence by those very arts which were acquired only for amusement.—Whatever may be a resource against that mutability which marks all human affairs, becomes an object of importance.

A proficiency in the arts of domestic management and oeconomy, ought justly to be ranked among the accomplishments of a young lady. You must be unacquainted with nothing that appertains to good housewifery. Some girls have I known profess so violent an attachment to literary pursuits, that they are content to remain ignorant of common attainments. This shews a pitiable weakness—elevated minds are attentive to every thing; and, believe me, it is very possible to possess a competent knowledge of polite literature, and be well versed in the methods of well governing a [Page]house at the same time—the latter qualifications have of themselves constituted many an useful character in female life, which is more than can be said of the former. Blend, therefore, my beloved girls, polite with useful acquirements, and you will be what I wish you.

In writing, acquire, if possible, a good hand, yet that is not so essentially necessary as the being able to write grammatically—the violation of the common rules of grammar, is an indisputable mark of low breeding; and although my Lord Chesterfield sarcastically said that bad spelling was only allowable in a woman, it certainly is not allowable in any one, who pretends to an education above the vulgar. Could you write as fine a hand as even A—n himself, bad spelling would disgrace the whole. The substituting have for has, are for is, &c. infallibly sinks you in the estimation of well bred persons. In order to avoid errors of this kind, habit is to be particularly [Page]guarded against. If in your early years you are not careful to write and spell correctly, it is a thousand to one if you ever do. You see, therefore, of what consequence it is that you pay a present attention to these points.

I reckon among the useful attainments, the ability of penning an epistle with propriety and elegance—many fortunate circumstances in life may be facilitated thereby—a well written letter has often effected what verbal requests have sought in vain—besides this consideration, how greatly must the sweet intercourse of friendship be improved by a free and intelligent correspondence! Two friends, though placed at the extremities of the globe, may thus enjoy all the pleasures of such a connection; but except you attain the desirable habit of expressing your sentiments without embarrassment, hope not to enjoy any thing of so delicate a satisfaction. Letters should be the pictures of the soul; and so [Page]they always would be if people acquired only the skill of expressing their thoughts just as they arise. Write as you would speak, were the persons you address immediately before you. There is no more than this necessary to establish that easiness of style which is the chief beauty of epistolary correspondence. That good breeding which I hope will be habitual to you, will dictate those terms and forms of address, the condition of those to whom you write requires.—We do not always find the most learned people write the most agreeable letters—perhaps for no other reason than that they take too much trouble about it, and, like the good Archbishop of Benevento, reject the first thought that occurs. Some that I have known indite an epistle in such a stiff and formal style, and load it so disgustfully with tautology, that one would almost take it for an Act of Parliament. When you write a letter, my dear girls, forget the idea of pen, ink and paper—suppose only you are speaking to [Page]the person, and you will write an agreeable, if not a fine letter—to effect the latter, something must have been effected by dame Nature—however, this I know— that the most elevated sentiments would not look graceful in such compositions, except accompanied by perfect ease and expression, and have the appearance of flowing spontaneously from the heart. Many excellent models of epistolary writing have been recommended to young proficients. You cannot have better than those ascribed to Pope Ganganelli;—whoever was the author, he has certainly hit on that ease, sprightliness and elegance, which it is my earnest wish may characterise whatever falls from your pen. Would to Heaven that all the world possessed the same candor and liberality of sentiment which breathes through every one of those elegant epistles.

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LETTER VIII.

WHEN you compare the ankward motions of a rustic, with the genteel and graceful movement of a person of education, you cannot but be assured of the utility of dancing, but it should never be forgotten, that to give this superiority of mein and air is the chief end of that polite accomplishment;—to lose sight of this idea, is to take away the real worth of that branch of genteel education:—to reduce it to an unimportant, if not pernicious attainment. However a knowledge of dancing may sometimes conduce to social pleasure, and in that light be esteemed an agreeable and innocent recreation, I cannot help thinking, that the same application that is requisite to form an opera dancer, may very well be dispensed with in a young lady of a different character. The extravagant leaps and gestures of some fashionable [Page]females, make me think of the speech of Philip of Macedon to his son, on another occasion—I am ready to ask if they "are not ashamed to dance so well."

There is scarcely a human soul, however apparently dead to sensibility, but is in some measure alive to the extatic charms of music. The story of Orpheus is more than a fable—minds almost as inert and inanimate as trees themselves, have been moved by the power of harmonious sounds:—why else does the gaping rustic, follow with such manifest delight, the itinerant musician; and why but that the effect of music on the passions is so incontestibly proved, has the army adopted the sons of Apollo with those of Mars? Since then this science has so great an influence on the feelings of the soul, is it not surprizing that the polite world should not be more ambitions of enjoying those sublime sensations, [Page]which the best pieces are so abundantly capable of exciting, and not rest poorly satisfied with the luke warm pleasures of sing-song, while the noble compositions of great masters, lie bye totally disregarded. Indulge, my dear girls, a turn for music, if nature has given you such; but do not permit a song tune, or an opera air to be the limits of your excellence in that enchanting science.

Drawing, painting, &c. justly form a part of polite education, because they furnish an agreeable, as well as rational amusement. They lead to a familiarity with the beauties of nature, and that can scarcely fail to advance the mind a degree higher, even to the contemplation of her Divine Author. But if it had not this happy tendency, drawing is still a laudable amusement, because an innocent one; and whatever furnishes a recreation of that character, may certainly be deemed an auxiliary to virtue.

[Page] An acquaintance with the languages of polite nations, greatly enlarges the mind. It is the property of ignorance to esteem nothing valuable that a foreign country produces; and scarcely to allow that its inhabitants are human. Nothing tends more immediately to remove such illiberal prejudices, than studying the language of the people thus despised. The supercilious contemner is surprised to find them rational, and expressing similar ideas with those of his own country.

If necessity or inclination ever leads you from your native land, a previous acquaintance with the language of those you reside among, would much facilitate your pleasure and convenience; would open to you the avenues of social love and friendship, and take off much from those comfortless sensations the mind is apt to feel in the idea of being amongst a people it knows not. For this end, perhaps it may be sufficient to acquire a knowledge [Page]of the French tongue, that being generally understood by intelligent persons of every European nation. But there is another advantage attending this branch of polite accomplishment, and which probably to you, my dear girls will be the most useful—I mean the being able to read in their original, those beautiful compositions which lose many of their excellencies by translation; for this reason become acquainted also with the Itasian: but Homer and Virgil you tell me have beauties that can never be translated—true, yet these, I fancy, you must be content to taste as pure as the labors of the learned afford them; the Greek and Latin tongues, forming no part in the polite system of female education at present, nor certainly ever can in the useful.

Arithmetic is a dry study, yet certainly a very useful one, to those who would manage their affairs with oeconomy and prudence;—a thorough knowledge of the [Page]four first rules, is sufficient to enable you to do it.

From a total ignorance of letters in female life, we are advanced to an age which requires every girl to be made a grammarian; yet it unfortunately happens, that of the numbers who profess to have studied the grammar of their native tongue, few speak or write it with that accuracy which could be wished; indeed the progress that women usually make in that science, is seldom of itself sufficient to give an habitual elegance of expression; they are more indebted for it to frequent reading of the best authors, and the conversation of those who have themselves acquired it perfect;—what you can, acquire of grammar by such assistances of these. There is an indispensable necessity for you to write and speak English correctly; acquire that qualification as easily as you can, but nothing will more facilitate it than the methods I have mentioned.

[Page] Geography is a study that will please you an hundred times better—this is not like the former, a set of dry rules, but almost every advance you make therein, will abundantly repay your pains by the novelty of the information it produces. Besides, I cannot imagine how the frequent relations that occur in common discourse will be intelligible, without some acquaintance with this study. I am sure if you are no geographer, even a newspaper will be as inexplicable as an Egyptian hieroglyphic. Attain a competent knowledge of the globe on which you live, that your apprehension of infinite wisdom may be enlarged; which it will be in a much higher degree, if you take care to acquire a general idea of the structure of the universe. It is not expected you should become adepts in astronomy, but a knowledge of its leading principles you may and ought to obtain. The French, with their usual attention to the sex, have procured them a gentleman [Page]usher, if I may so speak, to the planetary orbs.—Fontanelle introduces them to an acquaintance with that brilliant assembly—it is not the first instance in which our agreeable neighbours have blended the researches of the scholar, with the politeness of a fine gentleman.

Avail yourselves of such ingenious assistances, and be all your Cornelia wishes.

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LETTER IX.

AN accomplished character, has so many charms, that nothing needs be said to induce you to wish, at least, for its attainment. Yet painful application must render that wish effectual—a reflection however that should excite your emulation, rather than despondency—trivial acquirements may content the indolent and timid, but the arduous and difficult are the proper aim of elevated minds. Courage belongs not to the warrior alone—it is as often found in the closet, as the field.

That resolution which is necessary for every valuable purpose of life, is the fruit only of active minds, and was never found with indolence and sloth;—determine therefore to conquer every tendency to an inactive temper. Whenever you feel in yourselves an inaptitude for doing what necessarily ought to be done, rouze that [Page]moment, or you will give ground to an enemy the most destructive to happiness and virtue; and who once entrenched is hard to be dislodged. Never defer to the next hour, that which should be the business of the present. "Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it, with all thy might," said a very wise man many hundred years ago; indeed there is no precept throughout the sacred writings, inculcated with greater energy than this of diligence. It is the soul of virtue— the foundation of honor and affluence.

Many a bright and shining talent lies hid in a napkin, for want of activity to unfold it; nor do we unfrequently meet with persons struggling with distresses, which require only their own exertions to remove. Indolence takes hold of the disposition much oftener than is acknowledged; it is possible to be wholly under its dominion, and yet suspect nothing of it; and, what is yet more strange, to believe [Page]one's self to be the most diligent person in the world at the very time. You have seen numbers of bustling people, who are always in a hurry, and so perplexed do they appear with business, as never to be able to enjoy a friend or themselves. It would seem hard at first sight, to accuse them of indolence, and yet they are of all people most commonly under its power: for an habitual diligence would so comfortably arrange the affairs of life, that none would be found to intrude on another. Consider the surprising dispatch with which some in public stations, manage a multiplicity of the most important concerns; —to contemplate them, one would almost conclude, nothing too extensive for the compass of the human mind;—diligence is the charm which effects it all.

In that dismal catalogue of diseases which imbitter mortality, not a few owe their existence to indolence. The indigent labourer who toils for daily bread, [Page]knows nothing of that sad train of nervous disorders which render life itself burdensome to the wealthy. In some cases, poverty might justly be called a blessing. Great are the atchievements which resolution and diligence can effect: —in nothing is their power more conspicuously seen, than in the cultivation of the mind; to reflect on the progress of the human understanding—to compare the refinements of philosophy with a state of savage nature—a Newton, with an inhabitant of New Holland, we should almost conclude some supernatural power must have contributed to give the former so infinite a superiority in the scale of beings. Without the quality I have recommended it could never have been attained, for though much be owing to accidental advantages, such as the being born in an enlightened country afford, yet no inconsiderable portion of diligence is required to render these advantages personally effectual. It is this, my dear girls, that makes them yours, and without it, the soul will [Page]remain as uninformed as if destined to a land where science never darts a cheering beam.

It may seem strange to tell you of old age, before you have scarcely passed your infancy; yet I must not conceal from you, that a period will arrive, when exterior attractions will be no more:—when mental acquirements will prove your highest lustre and sublimest comfort. However despicable an ignorant woman appears at any part of her life, in the decline of it she is sure to become far more contemptible; at that time it is the improvements she has made in early days, that give dignity of character. An old age of cards necessarily succeeds a youth of folly. Pope could not have said any thing more destructive of the insignificancy of those ancient habits, than he has expressed in that concise satire. If you would avoid the contempt which never fails to attend a frivolous old age, you must pass a youth of diligence and application.

[Page] But then the pleasures resulting from it surpass description, the satisfactions of a rich cultivated mind are only fully known to the happy possessor; one of them, we are assured, is a noble independence, which creates, if I may so speak, its own happiness; is not indebted to dissipation, or the caprice of others; but can derive from itself, exhaustless resources for solitude or society. Ordinary persons are obliged to fly from Ennui to the regions of amusement, but superior beings, who have traversed the fields of useful and polite knowledge, can from themselves select materials for the most exquisite enjoyment.

Do you think this an acquisition worth desiring—then never forget that it can be obtained only by diligence and active industry. Habits of indolence are destructive of every valuable attainment, and they are as much so of happiness, as they are known to be of virtue.

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LETTER X.

CULTIVATED minds have pleasures which surpass the vulgar apprehension. They have their pains as well— for there is an evil peculiar to refined feeling, of which the untaught rustic is happily ignorant. This happens when refinement, or at least the affectation of it, is carried to such an extreme, that it degenerates into false delicacy. The symptoms of the malady are a kind of secret dissatisfaction with every thing— the common blessings of life are despised, as inadequate to the refinement of their ideas, and every petty slight angmented by such a quickness of perception, as leads them to see affronts, when none perhaps have been intended. And this peevishly irritable temper they are pleased to dignify with the name of sensibility, and pique themselves on a disposition that disqualifies them for social virtue or social [Page]happiness. What pity, that a quality meant to highten every real blessing, should be ascribed to the mere chimera of a sickly brain! Never may you, my dears, by indulging these fictitious feelings, refine away the felicity, which a kind Providence scatters in your path of life. Nourish in your bosoms humility and good nature—these will teach you to make the best of your lot, whatever it be, and give a relish to every enjoyment—all is serene where they reside. Humility, by arrogating nothing to herself, remains unhurt at the supercilious scorn of ignorance or pride; and good-nature, by casting a veil over the foibles of others, presents to our view the best side of this motley scene.

Without doubt, superior minds have a quicker sense of what is beautiful in nature, or desirable in life, than a peasant, whose ideas extend not beyond his daily occupations—perhaps they feel also [Page]more acutely the evils of their condition; yet the persons who suffer most by this affected sensicility are not they who have the greatest share of afflictive events, but the idly speculative, who being employed to no good purpose, have time to nourish those artificial feelings which Nature knows nothing of.

Sensibility!—What is it?—Is it not that delicate perception of natural and moral beauty, which the Creator has implanted in the soul to exalt its happiness, and awaken its noblest passions? How greatly, then, do they err who substitute in the room of this best gift of Heaven, that which is the very weakness of humanity, pride and peevishness?

It is paying a very poor compliment to literary pursuits, to suppose they are productive of that softness which unfits the mind for enduring the common accidents of life. And those attainments [Page]are of little value that serve no better purpose than to barb the arrows of misfortune with stings which the enlightened never feel. But probably they who dream of such effects are the superficial, who never dived beyond the surface of literature, and whose feeble intellects are unable to digest even the little they have imbibed.

If you have really made any advancement in mental improvement, it will invigorate the powers of the soul, and inspire her with that magnanimity which is certainly necessary to the happiness of a being, who is every moment exposed to sorrow and disappointment. Value not yourselves on any refinements that are short of this effect.

Some, I know, are even restrained from the exercise of benevolence by this affectation of sensibility; their feelings are too tender to bear with scenes of distress, [Page]and too refined for the duties of social life; they therefore keep at an unfriendly distance from society, lest the ignorance or rudeness they there may meet with, should wound their excessive delicacy; but how is this obeying the injunction of the Apostle, who exhorts us to be kindly affectioned one to another, bearing with each others infirmities?

In fine, my dear girls, come to the feast of social life, accompanied by the virtues of humility and charity, and you will not arise dissatisfied from the entertainment.

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LETTER XI.

I HAVE often thought that the great prevalence of vice arises chiefly from a culpable weakness of temper—for there is nothing so amiable in it that it should be followed for its own sake. It is the mere want of resolution that betrays such numbers into the dreadful abyss of sin and misery.

"The world's dread laugh

"Scarce e'en the firm Philosopher can bear."

But, in my opinion he must be a poor philosopher who cannot, and would have made but a sorry figure in the portico or lyceum.

It is not meant to inculcate to you a boisterous, imperious carriage. May my girls possess every feminine grace and virtue, but these cannot be supported without some portion of resolution. There is [Page]a proper firmness, without which neither virtue, happiness, or dignity of character can be long maintained. Distrust those who extol the soft irresolution of the sex— it is the very rock on which thousands of deluded females have been lost.

Be possessed of the true principles of honour and rectitude, and dare to adhere to them in spite of solicitation, or that still more powerful means of temptation, ridicule. Establish your opinions on truth and reason, and maintain them, when necessary, with firmness;—some people give up both their faith and their friends, for want of resolution to defend them.

Too weak to think, too indolent to chuse.

In business, and the affairs of life, a proper firmness is indispensably necessary. Those who can be influenced by every adviser, or intimidated at every appearance of difficulty, must of course be desultory [Page]and unsettled. They affect nothing of consequence, because they know not how to persevere in any undertaking. Obstacles will attend the best concerted schemes, and mankind will ever think differently about them; but the truly wise will await with steady patience the issue of those measures they have been careful to found in prudence and the moral fitness of things. Some will undertake nothing, till they see the path smooth before them, and attain almost a certainty of success. Such will find their lives wasted, before they have determined on the plan of it. Those who best know the state of humanity, will be convinced, that to design prudently and act firmly, is all that can be done by mortals.

Without resolution, it will sometimes be impossible to act agreeably to the dictates of right reason, and virtue, for these are not always the ton; and when that is the case, no inconsiderable share of fortitude [Page]is requisite to repel the attacks of ridicule or amusement—nor can the treasures of knowledge be explored, without a portion of it—for, "there is nothing truly valuable to be attained without pains and labour." Dismayed at the prospect, the indolent, as described by Solomon, cry, "a lion is in the street"—Rather may my dear girls be animated with a nobler ardour, to surmount every difficulty which would retard their acquisition of merit and selicity. Parnassus itself was a craggy rock, but then the muses dwelt on its top.

But if resolution be necessary to the attaining whatever is valuable or desirable in life, it is no less so to the supporting us under a deprivation of it. The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong—hence it follows, that the wisest measures do not always meet with suceess, nor can virtue itself prevent the encroachments of affliction—in such circumstances fortitude gives a dignity to suffering, and [Page]tends also to alleviate the weight of it. Every one knows the sentiment of the philosopher— ‘that a good man struggling with adversity, is a sight on which the gods themselves might look down with delight.’ However that be, it is certain that such a character never fails to command the respect and veneration of mankind. Magnanimity, of all the qualities of the mind, seems most secure of admiration. The Saviour of the world inculcated it, when having forwarned his disciples of their approaching sufferings, he enjoined them to possess their souls in patience. Patience is amongst the Christian duties, what magnanimity is in the list of heroic virtues. They are synonimous terms—both imply that calm, unshaken fortitude, which is at once characteristic of the hero and the Christian.

But do not conclude this firmness of mind—this laudable resolution is calculated only to be admired. It is of the highest [Page]actual service to the unfortunate, not only by enabling them to sustain the burden of their sufferings, but by opening a way to better prospects. The timid and irresolute sink at the approach of adversity, into a despondency the most unfriendly to their affairs, by precluding that courageous industry which might render them more tolerable; and therefore, by the nature of things, augment the very evils of which they complain.

Cultivate in all circumstances this innate constancy—it will aid you in the attainment of every good and valuable end. In prosperity, will secure you from the corruptions of vanity—impart dignity and serenity to adversity. In fine, you cannot, I think, but be steady in the practice of virtue, if you are firm in the expectation of its rewards.

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LETTER XII.

MY epistles to you, my dear girls, are written without the least attention to method; their respective subjects have more the appearance of chance, than design; and therefore, may be justly called cursory thoughts on various subjects. Young folks, I know, do not love precise rules, and perhaps you deem the irregularity of my letters their chief merit. Allow them, however, one more—that of sincerity, and believe that the sentiments they contain, flow from the heart; I believe, I need not add the word spontaneously.

As I disclaim all methodical arrangement of my subjects, I will here give you my thoughts, on that very important part of female study, dress. Be not afraid that I am about to confine you to a primitive plainness, though probably, such a mode [Page]may be found more advantageous to beauty and elegance, than modern finery; yet I shall recommend that which is at once agreeable to fashion, and your own rank and circumstances. To reconcile these three conditions, is no easy task, yet herein lies a chief perfection of the female character; few women possess the happy art;—yet those who do, must be allowed a very superior degree of merit. It is no inconsiderable trait in the character of an amiable young lady, that she knows how to support a genteel appearance; and yet pay a just regard to the frugality, which probably her limited circumstances require.

A fantastical and expensive turn in dress, is the certain mark of a little mind; but that attention to it, which principally regards neatness, is extremely laudable. Resolve to be always neat, or you can never be well-dressed:—a dirty ruffle, a torn apron, &c. are sufficient to disgrace [Page]the most splendid apparel. Neatness is always in your power, and will always render you respectable in whatever rank of life you are placed; but finery without it is nothing more than a ridiculous glare, which is never seen but with disgust.

Fashion has imposed some general rules, which may innocently be followed under the restrictions I have mentioned. Your clothes may be made according to the mode, though the materials which compose thern, be less costly than if they belonged to a dutchess. An uncouth, ill-fashioned habit, derogates even from the importance of a philosopher; and it is not till after a near acquaintance, that merit is discovered through a shabby garment—so much are mankind governed by appearance.

"Prithee good Xenocrates (said Plato to his pupil) sacrifice to the graces." That great man knew how much the mental accomplishments [Page]complishments might be illustrated and adorned by a polished exterior;—a wise person, it is true, would not make this altogether the criterion of merit, yet perhaps, would not readily look for worth beneath an ungraceful exterior.

After all, my dear girls, esteem the frivolous, though often troublesome arts of dress, but as a tax you are in some sort obliged to pay to the folly of the age. Remember on all occasions, that external ornaments cannot make you better or happier women. Great minds, however they may have judged it necessary to conform to insignificant customs, have always regarded them in their proper light. The attention such are seen to shew to the idol fashion, is only a good natured condescension to the weakness of mankind, in points they judge of an indifferent nature, and much too trifling to become the objects of their serious cares. The silly and ignorant are they who love dress for its own sake.

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LETTER XIII.

NEXT to our own principles, we are to regard those of our companions; for they are almost of as much importance to us, as by long and intimate acquaintance they generally become our own. Virtuous habits are strengthened by example—so are vicious ones, but in a much higher degree; nothing therefore can be a point of greater consequence than the choice of companions.

A great deal has been written on the subject, and every one who has the care of youth, fails not to inculcate the keeping good company;—the only misfortune is, that the term has seldom been sufficiently explained, and the young mind is left to annex to it the ideas of birth and fortune, till by degrees the expression is supposed to imply both these qualifications.

[Page] The result has been the disturbance of all order in social life;—each class of people quitting their own sphere to associate with those of superior rank; and these again, inspired by the same sentiment, repel with scorn the ambitious attempt solicitous only to attract the notice of still greater folks than themselves. Thus in the room of that social amity with which the human heart should overflow, it is unhappily divided between the throbbings of ambition, and the pangs of offended pride.

It is evident, that in this bustle, greater attention is paid to the accidental circumstances of rank and affluence, than to real merit; we should not else so often see people of the middling rank, when flattered by the notice of a superior, so elated with the honour of keeping, what they call good company; when perhaps, that superior is conspicuous for almost every vice and meanness. [Page]This is a grand mistake surely—as fatal to happiness, as to morals.

Good company can only mean persons of noble sentiments, refined manners, and enlightened understandings. But these qualities are not to be expected, where the scantiness of fortune, has absolutely excluded the means of education; for the human mind becomes every thing by culture. It is therefore found, that in the lower ranks of society, where poverty has denied time and abilities for that happy employ, the worst habits, and most depraved morals prevail; for this reason you are not to chuse companions from such a class.

In fine, your associates must be those of a liberal and virtuous education. It may happen you may find a friend of this description, whose relative or necessary connection, may not be eligible for you. In this case she is by no means a proper companion, as her own merit, however [Page]great, will not compensate for the danger you incur in frequently mingling with persons of improper character.

A cultivated mind is the proper soil for every moral and social virtue—it is most likely to be found where Heaven has bestowed an easy fortune, consequently the genteeler ranks of life will be most likely to afford you proper companions. But here let merit alone, and not adventitious circumstances, influence your selection—despise that contemptible weakness which piques itself on the rank, rather than the mental value of an acquaintance; and never let a principle of vanity lead you to the servile imitation of vice or folly, however sanctioned by wealth or titles. Little minds are ever dazzled by shew and splendour— it is the property of the enlightened only to distinguish personal worth from external advantages. I should think you disgraced by an acquaintance with an Empress, if she was not as much distinguished by virtue as power.

[Page] Be careful not to form an acquaintance too hastily—many a virtuous girl has funk for ever in the esteem of the world, by being seen in company with those of doubtful reputation. In vain she declares her ignorance of the real character of her companions. She having admitted them to her society without the requisite investigation of that point, infallibly renders her own prudence suspected.

A very extensive acquaintance is not necessary to social happiness. A few select friends will most conduce to that end; and it is among these that ‘"The free full converse of the friendly heart"’ flows with uninterruption and delight— unfeigned chearfulness and real enjoyment exist much oftener in these little circles, than in large and ceremonious assemblies. But should your station in life render a large acquaintance unavoidable, [Page]you will observe to all, a free unrestrained politeness, without admitting every one indiscriminately to your confidence. Be ever frank and easy, without revealing your own secrets, or those of your friends, and make none your intimates but those of worth and honour.

Much, very much of human happiness depends on the proper choice of acquaintance —an ill chosen friend has power to mar our felicity as much as an amiable and faithful one contributes to it. The heart is formed for social intercourse; and when that intercourse is founded on the moral, and religious virtues, it gives a zest to the other enjoyments of life.

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LETTER XIV.

THERE are certain restrictions necessary to render the gift of speech what the great Creator designed it—a principal means of happiness to his rationl creatures. The first of these is an habitual care never to violate the laws of truth. The pleasures resulting from mutual conversation vanish entirely, when no dependence can be placed in the speaker's veracity. Those who speak merely from the suggestions of imagination, or, what is worse, malignity, are justly chargeable with half the strife that disturbs the peace of society. Such persons are the most dangerous companions, and need only to be known to be generally dispised and avoided. Indeed, so high a regard veracity obtains among people of refinement, that you cannot offer a more gross affront than to accuse them of the violation of it.

[Page] Of all that has been said in admiration of Cato's character, nothing reflects so great a lustre on it, as that striking, though tacit eulogium, bestowed on him in one of the Roman Courts of Judicature, where a cause being to be tried which required two witnesses, and one only appearing, the Judge declared he could not dispense with the law, even though Cato himself were the witness.

Besides, as Archbishop Tillotson finely observes, a constant adherence to truth has the least trouble and difficulty in it, it sits always upon the lips; whereas a lye is troublesome, and needs a great many more to make it good.

Next to the character of a liar, that of the detracter is the most odious—a habit of traducing the reputation of others, by speaking all the ill we have heard of them, or putting the worst constructions on their actions, is totally opposite [Page]to the spirit of Christianity, which breathes nothing but candour and charity. There is also something extremely mean in the practice, as the accused persons have seldom an opportunity of refuting the charge. The cruel aspersion is borne on the wings of scandal from circle to circle, nor perhaps reaches the injured party till the wound given to reputation is too deep for cure.

Barbarous as such a custom is, I need not say how greatly it prevails in almost all companies. I have, however, the charity to believe it does not always proceed from malice or envy. When no knowledge has been treasured up in the mind—no useful information acquired, conversation cannot receive aid from intellectual stores—what then, must become of it?—must it flag and silence—dreadful silence reign?—No, something must re-kindle it; and when no rational subject arises, that something must be [Page]scandal. This, though it may be a palliation of the crime, is yet no excuse; for the wounds given by unmeaning ignorance are as deep as those inflicted by premeditated rancour. How shameful is it that an impertinent eagerness for talking should thus wantonly explore the secret recesses of domestic life, and presume to judge of actions, the motives of which cannot be scanned by these ignorant prattlers!

The most effectual way to secure yourselves from the commission of this vice, will be the adorning your minds with such acquisitions of knowledge, and useful intelligence, as will enable you to furnish subjects for conversation, without descending to frivolity or detraction. But should you not be so happy as to possess these desirable resources, I hope you will have so much candour and good-nature as to be content with being accounted a dull and lifeless companion, rather than indulge an eagerness for talking [Page]at the expence of other people's good name.

Detraction is not only a violation of the rules of religion, but is also so impolitic a crime, as no one who wishes to be well received in the world would ever commit—for a person who is addicted to scandal, is a terror to society; the respect they receive, resembles the homage the Indians are said to pay to the Devil, rather to evade his malignity, than procure his love. And however curiosity may, for a while, listen to an ill-natured anecdote, yet be assured, the relator is regarded with a secret disgust by every benevolent person, who naturally expects to meet the same censorious fate, when opportunity serves.

Good policy will therefore correct a censorious disposition; yet, I trust your restraint will be derived from a superior motive, namely, the obligations of religion, which forbid to speak evil of any, [Page]or to judge uncharitably of another. The consciousness of having always obeyed these divine injunctions, will afford the consolation, under the pain you may perhaps feel from the unjust aspersions of others—for such, probably, you will meet with in your journey of life, as no innocence can always be a defence from unmerited censure; and when this chances to be your case, you will derive unspeakable comfort, from the reflection of having treated the world more generously than it has treated you.

Whatever you say, should be meant for the entertainment or instruction of the company, rather than the gratification of vanity. Many are so much actuated by self-love, that they never speak or act, but to be applauded. Hence arises affectation—the most disgusting quality in nature. Diliver your sentiments as they occur, without affecting more graces in your tone or gesture than [Page]are your own—these, well managed, will be enough to render you amiable. All may be agreeable in their natural sphere, but when they innovate on that of others, the attempt is commonly frustrated.

Above all, never affect that kind of wit which aims at severe retorts and repartee—it has generally ill-nature for its basis, and seldom makes a sally but it procures an enemy, if it does not lose a friend. There is nothing in it to be admired but the readiness of thought, which gives it birth—but when the quality seems aimed at, rather than possessed, it is absolutely contemptible.

In fine—sincerity, candour, and good sense, must be the ornaments of your conversation. Politeness will give an agreeable lustre to these qualities, but remember, it can never be a substitute for them.

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LETTER XV.

"HAIL politeness, power divine!" says the sonnet, and surely no necessary invocation; for politeness, dear girls, is the friend of social happiness and domestic peace; if it was the fashion, in this age, to have household gods, I would surely give it a pre-eminent place amongst them.

I know not how it happens, but people seem to think, they are obliged to be polite every where but at home—and there it is they are most required to be so; for the refined satisfaction of social intercourse, cannot long subsist without it. I am convinced, that domestic quarrels and disgusts, would much seldomer arise, if the parties were always as polite as affectionate.

But what is politeness—is it the law of fashion, or a system of rules?—No—it [Page]is the divine principle of benevolence, branched into a thousand little channels, and flowing through all the minutiae of human life. Education may improve, but can never give it, for it must be founded in the soul, or is never seen in full perfection. A painter may learn the rules of design, and the compendium of colours; but if he possesses not the enthusiasm of the art, his pictures will be lifeless and insipid.

Politeness is that a miable disposition, which delights in the happiness of others—consults their ease—prevents their wants—and yields them every possible convenience. This is the source of those civilities and attentions, which distinguish a well-bred person—without it, etiquette dwindles into unmeaning ceremony.

You perceive then, that not only an attention to external graces, but a regulation [Page]of the disposition is necessary to constitute a polite person. Acquire the amiable temper I have described, and you will infallibly please with that native ease which is thought so requisite to be attained, that the world has substituted in its room its wretched resemblance, effrontery:—but no more like the amiable original, than an ordinary statue to the Venus of Medicis.

I have often thought, that the best Christian is likely to be the most polite person. This is an assertion you have not been used to hear, yet may well enough be warranted by the tenor of the gospel precepts, which inculcate the being tender of another's weakness—to prefer each other in honor—to give respect where due—with others to the like purpose. Now if these excellent lessons contain (as I think will be allowed) the substance of what, at this day, is termed good breeding. St. Paul must be a better [Page]teacher than my lord Chesterfield himself, since he breathes the enlivening spirit, without which the ceremonial code is a lifeless system, calculated perhaps to disguise the heart, but not to add one iota to the real happiness of social life.

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LETTER XVI.

NOTHING is more talked of than religion—nothing less understood—without comprehending what it really is, the spirit of bigotry would arrogate the whole, nor allow of its being without the contracted pale of a particular sect.

I have juster notions of religion—see it as it is—not a mode of ceremonies, but a divine principle influencing the whole moral conduct; its simple, fixed and determinate sense, is briefly love of God, and good will to mankind. This, dear girls, is the sum of all religion; without it, vain were the oblations of the Jewish church—vain are the ceremonials of the Christian.

The "love of God," is an expression that, of late years, has been as grossly abused as the word religion. Strange as it may [Page]appear, there have been those, who leading the most immoral lives, have stiled themselves the lovers of the God of purity—whose tongues could utter a pious ejaculation, while their hands were committing the most flagitious crimes. But be not deceived—this exalted character belongs neither to bigotry nor enthusiasm. The love of God is not a passion, but a rational principle; it is those sentiments of reverence and gratitude, which naturally arise in a generous mind when reflecting on one supreme beneficent power, who is the immediate author of all good, and the fountain of all perfection. This conviction is the parent of unaffected piety; the soul cannot but adore the Being she believes to be all-wise, almighty, and eternal;—she cannot but love him who is the source of unnumbered blessings; nor chuse, but dread to offend him whose nature she believes to be holiness. Hence the source of moral virtue—sin is avoided, because displeasing to the [Page]will of the Deity; and virtuous dispositions are acquired, because agreeable to a Power who is able to reward every endeavour to please him, with eternal and unspeakable happiness.

Such a filial, rational love, must be the fruit of every mind that is not ignorant of the being and attributes of God;—or that has not received from bigotry or superstition, any mistaken notions of him. To prevent being disturbed by the spiritual pride of hypocritical fanatics, remember there is an invariable test by which you may know if you have the love of God. Ask your own heart, if it seeks the favour of the Deity above every other consideration? If it values this more than its dearest interests, and even life itself, a ready affirmative puts the question out of all doubt.

Be assured, my dear girls, that nothing so highly elevates and adorns [Page]the human character, as a steady rational piety—nor is any thing capable of yielding so pure and exalted a happiness to the soul, as an habit of devotion. No one who has experienced the vicissitude of sublunary things, but must highly value the privilege of possessing a friend, that would at all times be acceptable—ready to hear the complaints of affliction, and all powerful to relieve them.

Such a friend you may enjoy in the Divine Being; of what consequence is it then that you acquire a taste for the exercises of devotion; that you cultivate a friendship with heaven, and accustom your hearts to talk with God. This is an emphatical expression of David, and gives you an idea of rational and sincere prayer—which consists not in formal addresses, but is the genuine language of the heart. Such a divine intimacy has something in it extremely suitable to the noblest sensations of the soul; and [Page]therefore may well be sought after as a source of refined and exquisite felicity. In trouble, you will find it more precious than the balm of Gilead—it will shed a ray of sacred peace when the dark clouds of adversity obscure your path— [...] death. But here my pen must stop—there can be no doubt but at that final, that awful period, the divine attachment breaks forth into a seraphic flame.

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LETTER XVII.

THE generality of people style themselves Christians, without understanding the value or the necessity of christianity; and perhaps neither the one nor the other can be seen in a proper light, without taking a comparative view of the human soul before and after the fall.

It is not for my humble pen to illustrate the excellency of a system which has God himself for its author—nor is it my design to attempt a task so far above my abilities: yet that you may not wholly take your religion upon trust, I would call your attention to what man was when first created.

But a little inferior to angels, his reason was clear, his soul all purity, and his mind all intelligence—fit companion for natures wholly spiritual, and enjoying the most familiar intercourse with them. That [Page]grand question which has since agitated the schools of philosophy, of what was the chief good of man, was all apparent to the first of the human race: he saw perfectly clear, that it consisted in the entire assimilation of his will to that of the Deity—and in the pursuit found a full unmixed felicity. But he was created with the power of doing otherwise, or where would have been the merit of obedience? The duty of free agency, must be far preferable to that which arises from blind necessity.

Adam continued a happy being as long as his will remained consonant to that of his Maker; but at the instant it deviated therefrom, he fell from happiness and perfection. The conciseness of the scripture history, leaves unthinking minds in doubt as to the nature of Adam's transgression, but undoubtedly it originated in the mere desire of doing contrary to the divine command;—he forgot that the Diety was his happiness, and he sought it in his own will. [Page]It was herein he sinned, and not simply by eating the forbidden fruit, for at the very moment Adam became capable of imagining there might be a good abstract from the favour of God—that moment he fell.

The Creator saw at one comprehensive view, the miseries which would accrue to mankind, from the voluntary perversion of the intellectual and moral powers;— then was the scheme of Christianity devised, as an effectual means of restoring human nature to the happiness and perfection it originally possessed. The purposed blessing was graciously announced in that prediction, that the posterity of Eve should crush the serpent's head.

The human reason thus clouded, it is almost surprising to reflect by what rapid steps the world became immersed in the worst ignorance and vice. Those who still retained some idea of the Sovereign Creator, [Page]had recourse to a visible symbol of his Majesty; for their intellectual faculties were too gross to apprehend an immaterial Deity—it soon happened that the symbol itself was made the object of divine worship; and hence, doubtless, the origin of idolatry, which in the time of Abraham had so generally spread over the earth, that it appeared necessary to the Supreme Governor of the Universe to call that good man from his country and his kindred to ordain him the father of a nation; who being, by numerous and peculiar laws, separated from the rest of the would, might preserve, uncorrupt, the knowledge of the Divine Nature. The Bible will convince you how ineffectual, not only these laws, but the frequent and signal manifestations of Almighty power were to secure that people from the grossest idolatry, the rights of which were now become so terrible to the imagination, that they even burnt their children alive, in sacrifices to their horrid idols. What a picture is here of human [Page]nature! that nature which once so nearly approached the angelic! Do you not begin to see the necessity of a Redeemer? Let us pursue the thread of history, and take a superficial view of the most celebrated nations which peopled the earth before the glorious aera of his appearance.

The Egyptians were very early esteemed for learning, laws and arts—they were a numerous, powerful, and wealthy people, but so grossly idolatrous, that they not only worshipped images, but beasts, insects, and even vegetables. The manufactures and extensive commerce of Phoenicia, suppose some advance in refinement—but national intercourse in those wretched times served but to promulgate national idolatries. Babylon, that mighty seat of empire surpassed most other nations in the superb materials of her Gods. Astronomers there observed the motions of the Heavens, and bowed in adoration to the splendid hosts that adorned them. Cyrus, [Page]who erected the Persian on the ruins of the Babylonish Monarchy, knew nothing of the Almighty Being who named him, an age before he had existence, as the instrument of Liberty to his captive people. Alexander, who in his turn subverted this extensive empire, could only blend his Grecian idols with the Persian—for dark, deplorably dark, was every corner of the habitable earth, except the inconsiderable land of Jukea, where only a few despised, enfeebled tribes, possessed the light of sacred knowledge.

What a spectacle for the Father of the universe! who produced a world to know him and be happy! how much must his divine compassion be excited, on contemplating his glorious work in ruins!—to redeem it was an effort worthy of himself.

We now come to the enlightened ages of Greece and Rome—a period when I fancy I see the human soul like a brilliant [Page]gem, illustrious in the dust. What noble struggles did then the human reason make to free itself from the incumbent load or darkness and error! Then lived those numerous worthies, whose names are yet precious to posterity. What greatness of soul—what a taste for solid glory—what elevated sentiments did they not discover? Yet these men, so far superior to the rest of their species, acknowledged a multiplicity of deities, whose moral characters were infinitely inferior to their own, and to whom they scrupled not to ascribe actions which themselves would have blushed to acknowledge. Every passion of the human mind was personified, and deified; statues graced every corner of their streets. Yet were there not wanting some among them who made bold advances in search of better informatiòn—like benighted travellers, they followed the most distant gleam of light, yet all they could obtain was doubt and obscurity.

[Page] At this period, when reason had done all it could do to regain its native rights and privileges—the Saviour of the world appeared, at whose sacred presence idolatry fled, and the knowledge of the one true God began to enlighten mankind. They were no longer compelled to enquire, "Where is God our maker?" They knew him, and were instructed in his divine worship. The doctrines which the divine Messiah taught, eminently tended to restore human nature to the rectitude and happiness it had lost—they were calculated to harmonize the passions, regulate the affections, and exalt the soul to a sense of her own dignity, by revealing in the clearest terms, the immortality of her nature—a point which philosophy had long sought to explore through the dim veil of probable conjecture.

A cursory view of the tenets of Christianity is sufficient to evince, that they are designed to establish the happiness of mankind [Page]even in the present life. Consider the benevolence and charity they inculcate—the patience, meekness, moderation, contempt of worldly pleasures and enjoyments, the generous clemency to enemies; with the rest of that bright assemblage of virtues they enjoin, and you will confess it a matter of wonder that the felicity of Eden is not already restored to those countries where the religion of Christ is professed—and the reason it is not so can be none other, than that of the thousands who daily make profession of it, so few have a competent knowledge of its nature and design. Born in a Christian land, they think such a scrutiny superfluous. Thus they call themselves Christians, without having any thing of the spirit of Christ. —And thus the human race is still obnoxious to a thousand miseries, for want of applying to themselves the remedy which alone could put an end to moral evil.

[Page] May you, my dear girls, be effectually convinced of the inestimable value of this divine dispensation, and think with Dr. Young, that ‘"A Christian is the highest style of man."’

There are no virtuous dispositions—no generous affections—no truly noble sentiments, that are not comprised in that sublime character. Possess it, my young friends, for no higher distinction, or greater felicity, can possibly be wished you by CORNELIA.

FINIS

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Title statement

A plan for the conduct of female education, in boarding schools, private families, and public seminaries. By Erasmus Darwin, M.D. F.R.S. author of Zoonomia, and of The botanic garden. ; To which are added, Rudiments of taste, in a series of letters from a mother to her daughters. ; Embellished with an elegant frontispiece.

Darwin, Erasmus, 1731-1802.

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI :

Date

2012-01.

ID [DLPS]

N25341

ID [TCP]

N25341

ID [STC]

Evans 33601

ID [NOTIS]

APY0607

ID [IMAGE-SET]

33601

ID [EVANS-CITATION]

99027662

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 33601.

Notes

(Evans-TCP ; no. N25341)

Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 33601)

Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 33601)

Source

— A plan for the conduct of female education, in boarding schools, private families, and public seminaries. By Erasmus Darwin, M.D. F.R.S. author of Zoonomia, and of The botanic garden. ; To which are added, Rudiments of taste, in a series of letters from a mother to her daughters. ; Embellished with an elegant frontispiece., Darwin, Erasmus, 1731-1802., Thackara, James, 1767-1848, engraver., Peddle, M., Mrs. Rudiments of taste..

Extent

[4], 188, [3], 200-308 p., [1] leaf of plates : ill. ; 18 cm.

Printed by John Ormrod, no. 41, Chesnut-Street.,. Philadelphia: ;: 1798.. ("Rudiments of taste" is attributed to Mrs. M. Peddle.) (Frontispiece engraved by James Thackara.)

Creation

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