Personal perfection is not only more obvious, it is alſo more rapid; and even in very accompliſhed characters, elegance uſually precedes principle.
But the heart, that natural ſeat of evil propenſities, that little troubleſome empire of the paſſions, is led to what is right by ſlow motions and imperceptible degrees. It muſt be admoniſhed by reproof, and allured by kindneſs. Its livelieſt advances are frequently impeded by the obſtinacy of prejudice, and its brighteſt promiſes often obſcured by the tempeſts of paſſion. It is ſlow in its acquiſition of virtue, and reluctant in its approaches to piety.
There is another reaſon, which proves this mental cultivation to be more important, as well as more difficult, than any other part of education. In the uſual faſhionable accompliſhments, the buſineſs of acquiring them is almoſt always getting forwards, and one difficulty is conquered before another is ſuffered to ſhew itſelf; for a prudent teacher will level the road his pupil is to paſs, and ſmooth the inequalities which might retard her progreſs.
But in morals, (which ſhould be the great object conſtantly kept in view) the talk is far more difficult. The unruly and turbulent deſires of the heart are not ſo obedient; one paſſion will ſtart up before another is ſuppreſſed. The ſubduing Hercules cannot cut off the heads ſo often as the prolific Hydra can produce them, nor fell the ſtubborn Antæus ſo faſt as he can recruit his ſtrength, and riſe in vigorous and repeated oppoſition.
If all the accompliſhments could be bought at the price of a ſingle virtue, the purchaſe would be infinitely dear! And, however ſtartling it may ſound, I think it is, notwithſtanding, true, that the labours of a good and wiſe mother, who is anxious for her daughter's moſt important intereſts, will ſeem to be at variance with thoſe of her inſtructors. She will doubtleſs rejoice at her progreſs in any polite art, but ſhe will rejoice with trembling:—humility and piety form the ſolid and durable baſis, on which ſhe wiſhes to raiſe the ſuperſtructure of the accompliſhments, while the accompliſhments themſelves are frequently of that unſteady nature, that if the foundation is not ſecured, in proportion as the building is enlarged, it will be overloaded and deſtroyed by thoſe very ornaments, which were intended to embelliſh, what they have contributed to ruin.
The more oſtenſible qualifications ſhould be carefully regulated, or they will be in danger of putting to flight the modeſt train of retreating virtues, which cannot ſafely ſubſiſt before the bold eye of public obſervation, or bear the bolder tongue of impudent and audacious flattery. A tender mother cannot but feel an honeſt triumph, in contemplating thoſe excellencies in her daughter which deſerve applauſe, but ſhe will alſo ſhudder at the vanity which that applauſe may excite, and at thoſe hitherto unknown ideas which it may awaken.
The maſter, it is his intereſt, and perhaps his duty, will naturally teach a girl to ſet her improvements in the moſt conſpicuous point of light. Se faire valoir is the great principle induſtriouſly inculcated into her young heart, and ſeems to be conſidered as a kind of fundamental maxim in education. It is however the certain and effectual ſeed, from which a thouſand yet unborn vanities will ſpring. This dangerous doctrine (which yet is not without its uſes) will be counteracted by the prudent mother, not in ſo many words, but by a watchful and ſcarcely perceptible dexterity. Such an one will be more careful to have the talents of her daughter cultivated than exhibited.
One would be led to imagine, by the common mode of female education, that life conſiſted of one univerſal holiday, and that the only conteſt was, who ſhould be beſt enabled to excel in the ſports and games that were to be celebrated on it. Merely ornamental accompliſhments will but indifferently qualify a woman to perform the duties of life, though it is highly proper ſhe ſhould poſſeſs them, in order to furniſh the amuſements of it. But is it right to ſpend ſo large a portion of life without ſome preparation for the buſineſs of living? A lady may ſpeak a little French and Italian, repeat a few paſſages in a theatrical tone, play and ſing, have her dreſſing-room hung with her own drawings, and her perſon covered with her own tambour work, and may, notwithſtanding, have been very badly educated. Yet I am far from attempting to depreciate the value of theſe qualifications: they are moſt of them not only highly becoming, but often indiſpenſably neceſſary, and a polite education cannot be perfected without them. But as the world ſeems to be very well appriſed of their importance, there is the leſs occaſion to inſiſt on their utility. Yet, though well-bred young women ſhould learn to dance, ſing, recite and draw, the end of a good education is not that they may become dancers, ſingers, players or painters: its real object is to make them good daughters, good wives, good miſtreſſes, good members of ſociety, and good chriſtians. The above qualifications therefore are intended to adorn their leiſure, not to employ their lives; for an amiable and wiſe woman will always have ſomething better to value herſelf on, than theſe advantages, which, however captivating, are ſtill but ſubordinate parts of a truly excellent character.
But I am afraid parents themſelves ſometimes contribute to the error of which I am complaining. Do they not often ſet a higher value on thoſe acquiſitions which are calculated to attract obſervation, and catch the eye of the multitude, than on thoſe which are valuable, permanent, and internal? Are they not ſometimes more ſolicitous about the opinion of others, reſpecting their children, than about the real advantage and happineſs of the children themſelves? To an injudicious and ſuperficial eye, the beſt educated girl may make the leaſt brilliant figure, as ſhe will probably have leſs flippancy in her manner, and leſs repartee in her expreſſion; and her acquirements, to borrow biſhop Sprat's idea, will be rather enamelled than emboſſed. But her merit will be known, and acknowledged by all who come near enough to diſcern, and have taſte enough to diſtinguiſh. It will be underſtood and admired by the man, whoſe happineſs ſhe is one day to make, whoſe family ſhe is to govern, and whoſe children ſhe is to educate. He will not ſeek for her in the haunts of diſſipation, for he knows he ſhall not find her there; but he will ſeek for her in the boſom of retirement, in the practice of every domeſtic virtue, in the exertion of every amiable accompliſhment, exerted in the ſhade, to enliven retirement, to heighten the endearing pleaſures of ſocial intercourſe, and to embelliſh the narrow but charming circle of family delights. To this amiable purpoſe, a truly good and well educated young lady will dedicate her more elegant accompliſhments, inſtead of exhibiting them to attract admiration, or depreſs inferiority.
Young girls, who have more vivacity than underſtanding, will often make a ſprightly figure in converſation. But this agreeable talent for entertaining others, is frequently dangerous to themſelves, nor is it by any means to be deſired or encouraged very early in life. This immaturity of wit is helped on by frivolous reading, which will produce its effect in much leſs time than books of ſolid inſtruction; for the imagination is touched ſooner than the underſtanding; and effects are more rapid as they are more pernicious. Converſation ſhould be the reſult of education, not the precurſor of it. It is a golden fruit, when ſuffered to grow gradually on the tree of knowledge; but if precipitated by forced and unnatural means, it will in the end become vapid, in proportion as it is artificial.