The beſt effects of a careful and religious education are often very remote: they are to be diſcovered in future ſcenes, and exhibited in untried connexions. Every event of life will be putting the heart into freſh ſituations, and making demands on its prudence, its firmneſs, its integrity, or its piety. Thoſe whoſe buſineſs it is to form it, can foreſee none of theſe ſituations; yet, as far as human wiſdom will allow, they muſt enable it to provide for them all, with an humble dependence on the divine aſſiſtance. A well-diſciplined ſoldier muſt learn and practiſe all his evolutions, though he does not know on what ſervice his leader may command him, by what foe he ſhall be attacked, nor what mode of combat the enemy may uſe.
One great art of education conſiſts in not ſuffering the feelings to become too acute by unneceſſary awakening, nor too obtuſe by the want of exertion. The former renders them the ſource of calamity, and totally ruins the temper; while the latter blunts and debaſes them, and produces a dull, cold, and ſelfiſh ſpirit. For the mind is an inſtrument, which, if wound too high, will loſe its ſweetneſs, and if not enough ſtrained, will abate of its vigour.
How cruel is it to extinguiſh by neglect or unkindneſs, the precious ſenſibility of an open temper, to chill the amiable glow of an ingenuous ſoul, and to quench the bright flame of a noble and generous ſpirit! Theſe are of higher worth than all the documents of learning, of dearer price than all the advantages, which can be derived from the moſt refined and artificial mode of education.
But ſenſibility and delicacy, and an ingenuous temper, make no part of education, exclaims the pedagogue—they are reducible to no claſs—they come under no article of inſtruction—they belong neither to languages nor to muſic.—What an error! They are a part of education, and of infinitely more value,
Than all their pedant diſcipline e'er knew.
It is true, they are ranged under no claſs, but they are ſuperior to all; they are of more eſteem than languages or muſic, for they are the language of the heart, and the muſic of the according paſſions. Yet this ſenſibility is, in many inſtances, ſo far from being cultivated, that it is not uncommon to ſee thoſe who affect more than uſual ſagacity, caſt a ſmile of ſupercilious pity, at any indication of a warm, generous, or enthuſiaſtic temper in the lively and the young; as much as to ſay, "they will know better, and will have more diſcretion when they are older." But every appearance of amiable ſimplicity, or of honeſt ſhame, Nature's haſty conſcience, will be dear to ſenſible hearts; they will carefully cheriſh every ſuch indication in a young female; for they will perceive that it is this temper, wiſely cultivated, which will one day make her enamoured of the lovelineſs of virtue, and the beauty of holineſs: from which ſhe will acquire a taſte for the doctrines of religion, and a ſpirit to perform the duties of it. And thoſe who wiſh to make her aſhamed of this charming temper, and ſeek to diſpoſſeſs her of it, will, it is to be feared, give her nothing better in exchange. But whoever reflects at all, will eaſily diſcern how carefully this enthuſiaſm is to be directed, and how judiciouſly its redundances are to be lopped away.
Prudence is not natural to children; they can, however, ſubſtitute art in its ſtead. But is it not much better that a girl ſhould diſcover the faults incident to her age, than conceal them under this dark and impenetrable veil? I could almoſt venture to aſſert, that there is ſomething more becoming in the very errors of nature, where they are undiſguiſed, than in the affectation of virtue itſelf, where the reality is wanting. And I am ſo far from being an admirer of prodigies, that I am extremely apt to ſuſpect them; and am always infinitely better pleaſed with Nature in her more common modes of operation. The preciſe and premature wiſdom, which ſome girls have cunning enough to aſſume, is of a more dangerous tendency than any of their natural failings can be, as it effectually covers thoſe ſecret bad diſpoſitions, which, if they diſplayed themſelves, might be rectified. The hypocriſy of aſſuming virtues which are not inherent in the heart, prevents the growth and diſcloſure of thoſe real ones, which it is the great end of education to cultivate.
But if the natural indications of the temper are to be ſuppreſſed and ſtifled, where are the diagnoſtics, by which the ſtate of the mind is to be known? The wiſe Author of all things, who did nothing in vain, doubtleſs intended them as ſymptoms, by which to judge of the diſeaſes of the heart; and it is impoſſible diſeaſes ſhould be cured before they are known. If the ſtream be ſo cut off as to prevent communication, or ſo choked up as to defeat diſcovery, how ſhall we ever reach the ſource, out of which are the iſſues of life?
This cunning, which, of all the different diſpoſitions girls diſcover, is moſt to be dreaded, is increaſed by nothing ſo much as by fear. If thoſe about them expreſs violent and unreaſonable anger at every trivial offence, it will always promote this temper, and will very frequently create it, where there was a natural tendency to frankneſs. The indiſcreet tranſports of rage, which many betray on every ſlight occaſion, and the little diſtinction they make between venial errors and premeditated crimes, naturally diſpoſe a child to conceal, what ſhe does not however care to ſuppreſs. Anger in one will not remedy the faults of another; for how can an inſtrument of ſin cure ſin? If a girl is kept in a ſtate of perpetual and ſlaviſh terror, ſhe will perhaps have artifice enough to conceal thoſe propenſities which ſhe knows are wrong, or thoſe actions which ſhe thinks are moſt obnoxious to puniſhment. But, nevertheleſs, ſhe will not ceaſe to indulge thoſe propenſities, and to commit thoſe actions, when ſhe can do it with impunity.
Good diſpoſitions, of themſelves, will go but a very little way, unleſs they are confirmed into good principles. And this cannot be effected but by a careful courſe of religious inſtruction, and a patient and laborious cultivation of the moral temper.