A Memorial of Mrs. Margaret Breckinridge

by John Breckinridge; Samuel Miller

Besides the popular sciences just mentioned, with which every human being who can afford it, ought to seek some good acquaintance, there is an extensive and important field of knowledge, which is defined by the general term of literature, and, in our case, of English Literature. There is a large class of writers, with whose works every one who claims to be intelligent and well informed, must be familiar. To this department belongs the whole subject of History, which, I trust, will receive the serious attention of all of you; and about which I hope you will take enlightened advice, as a number of the most attractive and popular writers in this department, are unfit to be perused without much reserve and caution. To these, of course, ought to be added, those great writers, both in prose and poetry, which deserve to be ranked as English Classics; and, with which, I feel confident, you will seize the earliest opportunity of becoming acquainted. I refer to such writers as Milton, Shakspeare, Dryden, Addison, Steele, Pope, Thompson, Gray, Young, Goldsmith, Johnson, Cowper, Beattie, and a number of others, whom I cannot pause to specify, but with whom it would be highly discreditable not to have some intimate knowledge. Without an acquaintance with these writers, you cannot appreciate the riches, the beauties, or the purity of your vernacular tongue, or form for yourselves a good style of writing. In these writers, too, you will find a great store-house of fine sentiment, as well as diction, adapted greatly to enlarge and elevate the mind, to impart to it its highest polish, and to prepare it for its best efforts.

There are certain accomplishments commonly called ornamental, deemed by many desirable for females, and by some considered as of much consequence. Among these are dancing, music, painting, drawing, embroidery, &c. With regard to dancing, your beloved grandmother and myself never thought proper to permit any of our own children to be instructed in this art; not because we thought the act of dancing itself criminal, but because we considered it as inseparably and almost necessarily connected with the whole system of balls, dancing assemblies, midnight parties, &c., all of which we deemed criminal, and in a great variety of ways, hostile to the principles and the claims of true religion. We do, indeed, find dancing spoken of in the Old Testament Scriptures, as having been employed, even on occasions of religious joy; but never on such occasions do we read of the midnight dance, nor of promiscuous dancing, that is, of the sexes together. And with respect to the New Testament, we read there of only one actual dance, and that was performed by a profligate woman, and connected with crime of the most atrocious and revolting character.

As to music, I am persuaded it is the duty of every one who is able to do it, to acquire the power of uniting in the social praise of God with excellence and efficiency. The cultivation of vocal music, and the attainment of such a degree of skill in it as is essential to imparting an interest in the exercise, are conducive to health and favourable to moral and spiritual improvement. So far, I am confident you ought all to go. And if my granddaughters should have a special taste and love for instrumental music, I am by no means prepared to advise that they deny themselves the pleasure. It is an elegant accomplishment, and when wisely employed, may be connected with innocent pleasure, and sometimes with benefit. But I should deeply regret to find them aiming at that exquisite skill in instrumental music, which cannot be attained without great expense, much loss of time, and that intense and long continued attention which cannot fail to engross the mind and stand in the way of more worthy objects of pursuit, if it do not wholly exclude them. This is so unworthy of a rational accountable creature, that I would infinitely rather my dear grandchildren should know nothing of music, than that they should carry their zeal for it, and their devotion to it, to such an injurious length. And as to my dear grandson, while I hope always to hear him unite in singing the praises of God in the sanctuary with taste and skill, it would give me unspeakable pain to hear that he was regarded as a highly acceptable and admired singer at convivial meetings, and that his company was courted on that account. I concur in opinion with the old Grecian sage, who, when a young gentleman of his acquaintance, of respectable station and employment in society, had performed on an instrument of music with consummate skill and effect, said to him, "Are you not ashamed, my young friend, to play so well?"

In conducting the intellectual culture of the young, there is one question which I presume you will not fail to ask, and which I wish to anticipate and answer in this little system of affectionate advices. The question is, whether Novels ought to have any place in the course of reading prescribed for young people? This is a question of exceeding great importance. When I was a youth it was far less interesting and momentous, as a practical matter, than it has now become. Three quarters of a century, and more especially a century ago, the number of this class of writings was so small, and their popular circulation so inconsiderable, that their influence was scarcely worthy of notice, compared with that which they have more recently exerted, and which they are daily going on to extend. Bear with me then, dear children, while I dwell a little on this subject, and call your attention to some thoughts which I pray God may be deeply impressed upon your minds.

That fictitious history is not in its own nature and necessarily criminal, will probably be acknowledged by all. It may be so construed as to awaken curiosity, to excite sympathy, and to impress the understanding and the heart in a salutary manner. Of course, to condemn every thing of the kind as such, and however constructed or employed, would be to pronounce an unjust judgment. Hence we find examples of this mode of instruction in the holy Scriptures; and on the same principle, some of the wisest and best human teachers in all ages, have used the vehicle of lively and interesting fiction, known to be such at the time, for insinuating into the mind moral and religious lessons, which in a different form, might not so readily have gained admittance.

But the great error of modern times is two-fold; First, in multiplying publications of this kind, until they bear an inordinate and injurious proportion in the current literature of the day; and, Secondly, in constructing them upon a plan adapted to degrade virtue and piety, to recommend vice, and of course to prove seductive and immoral in their whole influence.

Even when such works are perfectly unexceptionable in their character; when they are wholly free from any thing improper, either in language or sentiment, they may be productive of incalculable mischief, if, as now, they are issued in excessive numbers and quantity. Leaving the character of modern novels entirely out of the question, the enormous number which for the last half century has been every day increasing, has become a grievous intellectual and moral nuisance. As long as they were few in number, and were regarded not as the substance, but only as the seasoning of the literary feast, they occupied but a small share of public attention. The chief time and attention of the reading portion of the community were mainly devoted to works of substantial value, fitted to strengthen, enlarge, and enrich the mind. But, within the last twenty or thirty years, the number of novels has increased so rapidly; they have become so prominent and alluring a part of the current literature of the day; and by their stimulating and inexhaustible variety, have so drawn away the minds of the aged as well as the young from solid reading, that they have formed the principal reading of a large portion of the community, and, of course, have become a snare and an injury to an extent not easily calculated. As long as exhilarating gases, or other stimulating substances, are administered sparingly, and as medicines, they may be altogether harmless, and even essentially useful. But, when those who have taken them for some time in this manner, become so enamoured with them as to be no longer satisfied with their moderate and salutary use, but make them their daily and principal aliment, they become inevitably mischievous. They destroy the tone of the stomach, and, in the end, radically undermine the health.

So it is with the insidious excitement of novels. Were the reader of them to take none into his hands but those which might be safely pronounced perfectly pure and innocent; and were he certain that he would never be tempted to go beyond the most moderate bounds in seeking and perusing even such, there would, perhaps, be little danger to be apprehended. But no one can be thus certain of either. The general stimulus of fictitious narrative is morbid and disorderly. It excites the mind, but cannot fill or enrich it. The probability is, that he who allows himself to enter on this course, will be led on, like the miserable tippler, from one stage of indulgence to another, until his appetite is perverted; his power of self-denial and restraint lost; and his ruin finally sealed; or, at least, his mind so completely indisposed and unfitted for the sober realities of practical wisdom, for the pursuits of solid science and literature, as to be consigned to the class of superficial drivellers as long as he lives.

The truth is, novels—even the purest and best of them—are adapted, not to instruct, but only to amuse; not to nourish and strengthen, but only to exhilarate. They even enervate the mind; they generate a sickliness of fancy; and they render the ordinary affairs and duties of life altogether uninteresting and insipid. After wading through hundreds of the most unexceptionable volumes belonging to this class—what has been gained? What has been laid up for future use? Nothing. Not a trace of any thing useful has been left behind. The days and nights devoted to their perusal have been absolutely lost. What infatuation is it for a rational creature who is sent into the world for serious and important purposes, and who is hastening to the judgment seat, thus to waste precious time; and, what is worse, thus to pervert his mind, and disqualify himself for sober employments! The celebrated Dr. Goldsmith, in writing to his brother, respecting the education of his son, expresses himself in the following strong terms, which are the more remarkable, as he himself had written a novel:—"Above all things, never let your son touch a romance or novel. These paint beauty in colours more charming than nature, and describe happiness that man never tastes. How delusive, how destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss! They teach the youthful mind to sigh after beauty and happiness which never existed; to despise the little good which fortune has mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she ever gave; and, in general, take the word of a man who has seen the world, and has studied human nature more by experience than precepts—take my word for it, I say, that such books teach us very little of the world."[10] He might have gone farther, and said—They teach us little of any thing; and so pervert the taste, as to take away all relish for applying the mind to any thing sober or useful. Often have I known young men and women so bewitched by novels, that they could read nothing else. They sought for new works of this class in every direction; devoured them with insatiable avidity; and became less and less disposed for pursuing any study either prescribed by their preceptors, or adapted to promote their ultimate enjoyment; until their prospects for both worlds were irrecoverably overcast with clouds and darkness.

Imagine not, dear children, that you will exercise more resolution than others, and thus avoid the snare of which I have spoken. You cannot answer for yourselves in this matter, any more than the man who is constantly exposed to the temptation of stimulating drinks can be sure of escaping the danger. Rely upon it, the more confident you are of your own wisdom and firmness in avoiding the evil in question, the greater your peril. In this, as in many other things, the only complete safety is to be found in wholly avoiding the dangerous territory.