The forming of the temper ought to be the continual thought, and the
first task of a parent or teacher. For to speak moderately, half the
miseries of life arise from peevishness, or a tyrannical domineering
temper. The tender, who are so by nature, or those whom religion has
moulded with so heavenly a disposition, give way for the sake of
peace—yet still this giving way undermines their domestic comfort, and
stops the current of affection; they labor for patience, and labor is
ever painful.
The governing of our temper is truly the business of our whole lives;
but surely it would very much assist us if we were early put into the
right road. As it is, when reason gains some strength, she has mountains
of rubbish to remove, or perhaps exerts all her powers to justify the
errors of folly and passion, rather than root them out.
A constant attention to the management of the temper produces gentleness
and humility, and is practised on all occasions, as it is not done “to
be seen of men.” This meek spirit arises from good sense and resolution,
and should not be confounded with indolence and timidity; weaknesses of
mind, which often pass for good nature. She who submits, without
conviction, to a parent or husband, will as unreasonably tyrannise over
her servants; for slavish fear and tyranny go together. Resentment,
indeed, may and will be felt occasionally by the best of human beings;
yet humility will soon conquer it, and convert scorn and contempt into
pity, and drive out that hasty pride which is always guarding Self from
insult; which takes fire on the most trivial occasions, and which will
not admit of a superior, or even an equal. With such a temper is often
joined that bashful aukwardness which arises from ignorance, and is
frequently termed diffidence; but which does not, in my opinion, deserve
such a distinction. True humility is not innate, but like every other
good quality must be cultivated. Reflections on miscarriages of conduct,
and mistakes in opinion, sink it deep into the mind; especially if those
miscarriages and mistakes have been a cause of pain—when we smart for
our folly we remember it.
Few people look into their own hearts, or think of their tempers, though
they severely censure others, on whose side they say the fault always
lies. Now I am apt to believe, that there is not a temper in the world
which does not need correction, and of course attention. Those who are
termed good-humored, are frequently giddy, indolent, and insensible; yet
because the society they mix with appear seldom displeased with a person
who does not contest, and will laugh off an affront, they imagine
themselves pleasing, when they are only not disagreeable. Warm tempers
are too easily irritated. The one requires a spur, the other a rein.
Health of mind, as well as body, must in general be obtained by patient
submission to self-denial, and disagreeable operations.
If the presence of the Deity be inculcated and dwelt on till an habitual
reverence is established in the mind, it will check the sallies of anger
and sneers of peevishness, which corrode our peace, and render us
wretched, without any claim to pity.
The wisdom of the Almighty has so ordered things, that one cause
produces many effects. While we are looking into another’s mind, and
forming their temper, we are insensibly correcting our own; and every
act of benevolence which we exert to our fellow-creatures, does
ourselves the most essential services. Active virtue fits us for the
society of more exalted beings. Our philanthrophy is a proof, we are
told, that we are capable of loving our Creator. Indeed this divine
love, or charity, appears to me the principal trait that remains of the
illustrious image of the Deity, which was originally stampt on the soul,
and which is to be renewed. Exalted views will raise the mind above
trifling cares, and the many little weaknesses, which make us a torment
to ourselves and others. Our temper will gradually improve, and vanity,
which “the creature is made subject to,” has not an entire dominion.
But I have digressed. A judicious parent can only manage a child in this
important article; and example will best enforce precept.
Be careful, however, not to make hypocrites; smothered flames will blaze
out with more violence for having been kept down. Expect not to do all
yourself; experience must enable the child to assist you; you can only
lay the foundation, or prevent bad propensities from settling into
habits.
UNFORTUNATE SITUATION OF FEMALES, FASHIONABLY EDUCATED, AND LEFT WITHOUT
A FORTUNE.
I have hitherto only spoken of those females, who will have a provision
made for them by their parents. But many who have been well, or at least
fashionably educated, are left without a fortune, and if they are not
entirely devoid of delicacy, they must frequently remain single.
Few are the modes of earning a subsistence, and those very humiliating.
Perhaps to be an humble companion to some rich old cousin, or what is
still worse, to live with strangers, who are so intolerably tyrannical,
that none of their own relations can bear to live with them, though they
should even expect a fortune in reversion. It is impossible to enumerate
the many hours of anguish such a person must spend. Above the servants,
yet considered by them as a spy, and ever reminded of her inferiority
when in conversation with the superiors. If she cannot condescend to
mean flattery, she has not a chance of being a favorite; and should any
of the visitors take notice of her, and she for a moment forget her
subordinate state, she is sure to be reminded of it.
Painfully sensible of unkindness, she is alive to every thing, and many
sarcasms reach her, which were perhaps directed another way. She is
alone, shut out from equality and confidence, and the concealed anxiety
impairs her constitution; for she must wear a cheerful face, or be
dismissed. The being dependant on the caprice of a fellow-creature,
though certainly very necessary in this state of discipline, is yet a
very bitter corrective, which we would fain shrink from.
A teacher at a school is only a kind of upper servant, who has more work
than the menial ones.
A governess to young ladies is equally disagreeable. It is ten to one if
they meet with a reasonable mother; and if she is not so, she will be
continually finding fault to prove she is not ignorant, and be
displeased if her pupils do not improve, but angry if the proper methods
are taken to make them do so. The children treat them with disrespect,
and often with insolence. In the mean time life glides away, and the
spirits with it; “and when youth and genial years are flown,” they have
nothing to subsist on; or, perhaps, on some extraordinary occasion, some
small allowance may be made for them, which is thought a great charity.
The few trades which are left, are now gradually falling into the hands
of the men, and certainly they are not very respectable.
It is hard for a person who has a relish for polished society, to herd
with the vulgar, or to condescend to mix with her former equals when she
is considered in a different light. What unwelcome heart-breaking
knowledge is then poured in on her! I mean a view of the selfishness and
depravity of the world; for every other acquirement is a source of
pleasure, though they may occasion temporary inconveniences. How cutting
is the contempt she meets with!—A young mind looks round for love and
friendship; but love and friendship fly from poverty: expect them not if
you are poor! The mind must then sink into meanness, and accommodate
itself to its new state, or dare to be unhappy. Yet I think no
reflecting person would give up the experience and improvement they have
gained, to have avoided the misfortunes; on the contrary, they are
thankfully ranked amongst the choicest blessings of life, when we are
not under their immediate pressure.
How earnestly does a mind full of sensibility look for disinterested
friendship, and long to meet with good unalloyed. When fortune smiles
they hug the dear delusion; but dream not that it is one. The painted
cloud disappears suddenly, the scene is changed, and what an aching void
is left in the heart! a void which only religion can fill up—and how few
seek this internal comfort!
A woman, who has beauty without sentiment, is in great danger of being
seduced; and if she has any, cannot guard herself from painful
mortifications. It is very disagreeable to keep up a continual reserve
with men she has been formerly familiar with; yet if she places
confidence, it is ten to one but she is deceived. Few men seriously
think of marrying an inferior; and if they have honor enough not to take
advantage of the artless tenderness of a woman who loves, and thinks not
of the difference of rank, they do not undeceive her until she has
anticipated happiness, which, contrasted with her dependant situation,
appears delightful. The disappointment is severe; and the heart receives
a wound which does not easily admit of a compleat cure, as the good that
is missed is not valued according to its real worth: for fancy drew the
picture, and grief delights to create food to feed on.
If what I have written should be read by parents, who are now going on
in thoughtless extravagance, and anxious only that their daughters may
be _genteelly educated_, let them consider to what sorrows they expose
them; for I have not over-coloured the picture.
Though I warn parents to guard against leaving their daughters to
encounter so much misery; yet if a young woman falls into it, she ought
not to be discontented. Good must ultimately arise from every thing, to
those who look beyond this infancy of their being; and here the comfort
of a good conscience is our only stable support. The main business of
our lives is to learn to be virtuous; and He who is training us up for
immortal bliss, knows best what trials will contribute to make us so;
and our resignation and improvement will render us respectable to
ourselves, and to that Being, whose approbation is of more value than
life itself. It is true, tribulation produces anguish, and we would fain
avoid the bitter cup, though convinced its effects would be the most
salutary. The Almighty is then the kind parent, who chastens and
educates, and indulges us not when it would tend to our hurt. He is
compassion itself, and never wounds but to heal, when the ends of
correction are answered.