It is an old, but a very true observation, that the human mind must ever
be employed. A relish for reading, or any of the fine arts, should be
cultivated very early in life; and those who reflect can tell, of what
importance it is for the mind to have some resource in itself, and not
to be entirely dependant on the senses for employment and amusement. If
it unfortunately is so, it must submit to meanness, and often to vice,
in order to gratify them. The wisest and best are too much under their
influence; and the endeavouring to conquer them, when reason and virtue
will not give their sanction, constitutes great part of the warfare of
life. What support, then, have they who are all senses, and who are full
of schemes, which terminate in temporal objects?
Reading is the most rational employment, if people seek food for the
understanding, and do not read merely to remember words; or with a view
to quote celebrated authors, and retail sentiments they do not
understand or feel. Judicious books enlarge the mind and improve the
heart, though some, by them, “are made coxcombs whom nature meant for
fools.”
Those productions which give a wrong account of the human passions, and
the various accidents of life, ought not to be read before the judgment
is formed, or at least exercised. Such accounts are one great cause of
the affectation of young women. Sensibility is described and praised,
and the effects of it represented in a way so different from nature,
that those who imitate it must make themselves very ridiculous. A false
taste is acquired, and sensible books appear dull and insipid after
those superficial performances, which obtain their full end if they can
keep the mind in a continual ferment. Gallantry is made the only
interesting subject with the novelist; reading, therefore, will often
co-operate to make his fair admirers insignificant.
I do not mean to recommend books of an abstracted or grave cast. There
are in our language many, in which instruction and amusement are
blended; the Adventurer is of this kind. I mention this book on account
of its beautiful allegories and affecting tales, and similar ones may
easily be selected. Reason strikes most forcibly when illustrated by the
brilliancy of fancy. The sentiments which are scattered may be observed,
and when they are relished, and the mind set to work, it may be allowed
to chuse books for itself, for every thing will then instruct.
I would have every one try to form an opinion of an author themselves,
though modesty may restrain them from mentioning it. Many are so anxious
to have the reputation of taste, that they only praise the authors whose
merit is indisputable. I am sick of hearing of the sublimity of Milton,
the elegance and harmony of Pope, and the original, untaught genius of
Shakespear. These cursory remarks are made by some who know nothing of
nature, and could not enter into the spirit of those authors, or
understand them.
A florid style mostly passes with the ignorant for fine writing; many
sentences are admired that have no meaning in them, though they contain
“words of thundering sound,” and others that have nothing to recommend
them but sweet and musical terminations.
Books of theology are not calculated for young persons; religion is best
taught by example. The Bible should be read with particular respect, and
they should not be taught reading by so sacred a book; lest they might
consider that as a task, which ought to be a source of the most exalted
satisfaction.
It may be observed, that I recommend the mind’s being put into a proper
train, and then left to itself. Fixed rules cannot be given, it must
depend on the nature and strength of the understanding; and those who
observe it can best tell what kind of cultivation will improve it. The
mind is not, cannot be created by the teacher, though it may be
cultivated, and its real powers found out.
The active spirits of youth may make time glide away without
intellectual enjoyments; but when the novelty of the scene is worn off,
the want of them will be felt, and nothing else can fill up the void.
The mind is confined to the body, and must sink into sensuality; for it
has nothing to do but to provide for it, “how it shall eat and drink,
and wherewithal it shall be clothed.”
All kinds of refinement have been found fault with for increasing our
cares and sorrows; yet surely the contrary effect also arises from them.
Taste and thought open many sources of pleasure, which do not depend on
fortune.
No employment of the mind is a sufficient excuse for neglecting domestic
duties, and I cannot conceive that they are incompatible. A woman may
fit herself to be the companion and friend of a man of sense, and yet
know how to take care of his family.