generosity: we cannot bear to suspect ourselves of base and ungenerous
feelings, therefore we let them work without attending to them, or we
endeavour to find out some better motive for those actions, which really
flow from envy and malignity. Before you flatter yourself that you are a
generous benevolent person, take care to examine whether you are really
glad of every advantage and excellence, which your friends and
companions possess, though they are such as you are yourself deficient
in. If your sister or friend makes a greater proficiency than yourself
in any accomplishment, which you are in pursuit of, do you never wish to
stop her progress, instead of trying to hasten your own?
The boundaries between virtuous emulation and vicious envy are very
nice, and may be easily mistaken. The first will awaken your attention
to your own defects, and excite your endeavours to improve; the last
will make you repine at the improvements of others, and wish to rob them
of the praise they have deserved. Do you sincerely rejoice when your
sister is enjoying pleasure or commendation, though you are at the same
time in disagreeable or mortifying circumstances? Do you delight to see
her approved and beloved, even by those who do not pay you equal
attention? Are you afflicted and humbled, when she is found to be in
fault, though you yourself are remarkably clear from the same offence?
If your heart assures you of the affirmative to these questions, then
may you think yourself a kind sister and a generous friend: for you must
observe, my dear, that scarcely any creature is so depraved as not to be
capable of kind affections in some circumstances. We are all naturally
benevolent, when no selfish interest interferes, and where no advantage
is to be given up: we can all pity distress, when it lies complaining at
our feet, and confesses our superiority and happier situation: but I
have seen the sufferer himself become the object of envy and ill-will,
as soon as his fortitude and greatness of mind had begun to attract
admiration, and to make the envious person feel the superiority of
virtue above good fortune.
To take sincere pleasure in the blessings and excellencies of others, is
a much surer mark of benevolence than to pity their calamities: and you
must always acknowledge yourself ungenerous and selfish, whenever you
are less ready to "rejoice with them that do rejoice," than to "weep
with them that weep." If ever your commendations of others are forced
from you, by the fear of betraying your envy--or if ever you feel a
secret desire to mention something that may abate the admiration given
them, do not try to conceal the base disposition from yourself, since
that is not the way to cure it.
Human nature is ever liable to corruption, and has in it the seeds of
every vice, as well as of every virtue; and the first will be
continually shooting forth and growing up, if not carefully watched and
rooted out as fast as they appear. It is the business of religion to
purify and exalt us, from a state of imperfection and infirmity, to that
which is necessary and essential to happiness. Envy would make us
miserable in heaven itself, could it be admitted there; for we must
there see beings far more excellent, and consequently more happy than
ourselves; and till we can rejoice in seeing virtue rewarded in
proportion to its degree, we can never hope to be among the number of
the blessed.
Watch then, my dear child, and observe every evil propensity of your
heart, that you may in time correct it, with the assistance of that
grace which alone can conquer the evils of our nature, and which you
must constantly and earnestly implore.
I must add, that even those vices which you would most blush to own, and
which most effectually defile and vilify the female heart, may by
degrees be introduced into yours--to the ruin of that virtue, without
which, misery and shame must be your portion--unless the avenues of the
heart are guarded by a sincere abhorrence of every thing that
approaches towards evil. Would you be of the number of those blessed,
"who are pure in heart," you must hate and avoid every thing, both in
books and in conversation, that conveys impure ideas, however neatly
clothed in decent language, or recommended to your taste by pretended
refinements, and tender sentiments--by elegance of style, or force of
wit and genius.
I must not now begin to give you my thoughts on the regulation of the
affections, as that is a subject of too much consequence to be soon
dismissed. I shall dedicate to it my next letter: in the mean time,
believe me,
Your ever affectionate.
FOOTNOTE:
[20] Matt. v.
LETTER V.
ON THE REGULATION OF THE AFFECTIONS.
THE attachments of the heart, on which almost all the happiness or
misery of life depends, are most interesting objects of our
consideration. I shall give my dear niece the observations which
experience has enabled me to draw from real life, and not from what
others have said or written, however great their authority.
The first attachment of young hearts is _friendship_--the noblest and
happiest of affections, when real, and built on a solid foundation; but,
oftener pernicious than useful to very young people, because the
connection itself is ill understood, and the subject of it frequently
ill chosen. Their first error is that of supposing equality of age, and
exact similarity of disposition, indispensably requisite in friends;
whereas these are circumstances which in great measure disqualify them
for assisting each other in moral improvements, or supplying each
other's defects; they expose them to the same dangers, and incline them
to encourage rather than correct each other's failings.
The grand cement of this kind of friendship is telling secrets, which
they call confidence: and I verily believe that the desire of having
secrets to tell, has often helped to draw silly girls into very unhappy
adventures. If they have no lover or amour to talk of, the too frequent
subject of their confidence is betraying the secrets of their families;
or conjuring up fancied hardships to complain of against their parents
or relations: this odious cabal, they call friendship; and fancy
themselves dignified by the profession; but nothing is more different
from the reality, as is seen by observing how generally those early
friendships drop off, as the parties advance in years and understanding.
Do not you, my dear, be too ready to profess a friendship with any of
your young companions. Love them, and be always ready to serve and
oblige them, and to promote all their innocent gratifications: but, be
very careful how you enter into confidence with girls of your own age.
Rather choose some person of riper years and judgment, whose good-nature
and worthy principles may assure you of her readiness to do you a
service, and of her candour and condescension towards you.
I do not expect that youth should delight to associate with age, or
should lay open its feelings and inclinations to such as have almost
forgot what they were, or how to make proper allowance for them; but if
you are fortunate enough to meet with a young woman eight or ten years
older than yourself, of good sense and good principles, to whom you can
make yourself agreeable, it may be one of the happiest circumstances of
your life. She will be able to advise and to improve you--and your
desire of this assistance will recommend you to her taste, as much as
her superior abilities will recommend her to you. Such a connection will
afford you more pleasure, as well as more profit, than you can expect
from a girl like yourself, equally unprovided with knowledge, prudence,
or any of those qualifications which are necessary to make society
delightful.
With a friend, such as I have described, of twenty-three or twenty-four
years of age, you can hardly pass an hour without finding yourself
brought forward in some useful knowledge; without learning something of
the world or of your own nature, some rule of behaviour, or some
necessary caution in the conduct of life: for even in the gayest
conversations, such useful hints may often be gathered from those whose
knowledge and experience are much beyond our own. Whenever you find
yourself in real want of advice, or seek the relief of unburdening your
heart, such a friend will be able to judge of the feelings you describe,
or of the circumstances you are in--perhaps from her own experience--or,
at least, from the knowledge she will have gained of human nature! she
will be able to point out your dangers, and to guide you into the right
path; or, if she finds herself incapable, she will have the prudence to
direct you to some abler adviser. The age I have mentioned will not
prevent her joining in your pleasures, nor will it make her a dull or
grave companion; on the contrary, she will have more materials for
entertaining conversation, and her liveliness will shew itself more
agreeably than in one of your own age. Your's therefore will be the
advantage in such a connection; yet do not despair of being admitted
into it, if you have an amiable and docile disposition. Ingenuous youth
has many charms for a benevolent mind; and, as nothing is more endearing
than the exercise of benevolence, the hope of being useful and
beneficial to you will make her fond of your company.
I have known some of the sweetest and most delightful connections
between persons of different ages, in which the elder has received the
highest gratification from the affection and docility of the younger;
whilst the latter has gained the noblest advantages from the
conversation and counsels of her wiser friend. Nor has the attachment
been without use as well as pleasure to the elder party. She has found
that there is no better way of improving one's own attainments, than by
imparting them to another; and the desire of doing this in the most
acceptable way has added a sweetness and gentleness to her manner, and
taught her the arts of insinuating instruction, and of winning the
heart, whilst she convinces the understanding.
I hope, my dear, you in your turn will be this useful and engaging
friend to your younger companions, particularly to your sisters and
brothers, who ought ever--unless they should prove unworthy--to be your
nearest and dearest friends, whose interest and welfare you are bound to
desire as much as your own. If you are wanting here, do not fancy
yourself qualified for friendship with others, but, be assured, your
heart is too narrow and selfish for so generous an affection.
Remember, that the end of true friendship is the good of its object, and
the cultivation of virtue, in two hearts emulous of each other, and
desirous to perpetuate their society beyond the grave. Nothing can be
more contrary to this end than that mutual intercourse of flattery,
which some call friendship. A real friend will venture to displease me,
rather than indulge my faulty inclinations, or increase my natural
frailties; she will endeavour to make me acquainted with myself, and
will put me upon guarding the weak parts of my character.
Friendship, in the highest sense of the word, can only subsist between
persons of strict integrity and true generosity. Before you fancy
yourself possessed of such a treasure, you should examine the value of
your own heart, and see how well it is qualified for so sacred a
connection; and then a harder task remains--to find out whether the
object of your affection is also endued with the same virtuous
disposition. Youth and inexperience are ill able to penetrate into
characters: the least appearance of good attracts their admiration, and
they immediately suppose they have found the object they pursued.
It is a melancholy consideration, that the judgement can only be formed
by experience, which generally comes too late for our own use, and is
seldom accepted for that of others. I fear it is in vain for me to tell
you what dangerous mistakes I made in the early choice of friends--how
incapable I then was of finding out such as were fit for me, and how
little I was acquainted with the true nature of friendship, when I
thought myself most fervently engaged in it! I am sensible all this will
hardly persuade you to choose by the eyes of others, or even to suspect
that your own may be deceived. Yet, if you should give any weight to my
observations, it may not be quite useless to mention to you some of the
essential requisites in a friend; and to exhort you never to choose one
in whom they are wanting.
The first of these is a deep and sincere regard for religion. If your
friend draws her principles from the same source with yourself, if the
gospel precepts are the rule of her life, as well as your's, you will
always know what to expect from her, and have one common standard of
right and wrong to refer to, by which to regulate all material points of
conduct. The woman who thinks lightly of sacred things, or who is ever
heard to speak of them with levity or indifference, cannot reasonably be
expected to pay a more serious regard to the laws of friendship, or to
be uniformly punctual in the performance of any of the duties of
society; take no such person to your bosom, however recommended by
good-humour, wit, or any other qualification; nor let gaiety or
thoughtlessness be deemed an excuse for offending in this important
point: a person habituated to the love and reverence of religion and
virtue, no more wants the guard of serious consideration to restrain her
from speaking disrespectfully of them, than to prevent her speaking ill
of her dearest friend. In the liveliest hour of mirth, the innocent
heart can dictate nothing but what is innocent; it will immediately take
alarm at the apprehension of doing wrong, and stop at once in the full
career of youthful sprightliness, if reminded of the neglect or
transgression of any duty. Watch for these symptoms of innocence and
goodness, and admit no one to your entire affection, who would ever
persuade you to make light of any sort of offence, or who can treat with
levity or contempt any person or thing that bears a relation to
religion.
A due regard to reputation is the next indispensable
qualification.--"Have regard to thy name," saith the wise son of Sirach,
"for that will continue with thee above a thousand great treasures of
gold." The young person, who is careless of blame, and indifferent to
the esteem of the wise and prudent part of the world, is not only a most
dangerous companion, but gives a certain proof of the want of rectitude
in her own mind. Discretion is the guardian of all the virtues; and,
when she forsakes them, they cannot long resist the attacks of an enemy.
There is a profligacy of spirit in defying the rules of decorum, and
despising censure, which seldom ends otherwise than in extreme
corruption and utter ruin. Modesty and prudence are qualities that early
display themselves, and are easily discerned: where these do not appear,
you should avoid, not only friendship, but every step towards intimacy,
lest your own character should suffer with that of your companion; but,
where they shine forth in any eminent degree, you may safely cultivate
an acquaintance, in the reasonable hope of finding the solid fruits of
virtue beneath such sweet and promising blossoms: should you be
disappointed, you will at least have run no risk in the search after
them, and may cherish as a creditable acquaintance the person so
adorned, though she may not deserve a place in your inmost heart.
The understanding must next be examined: and this is a point which
requires so much understanding to judge of in another, that I must
earnestly recommend to you, not to rely entirely on your own, but to
take the opinion of your older friends. I do not wish you to seek for
bright and uncommon talents, though these are sources of inexhaustible
delight and improvement, when found in company with solid judgment and
sound principles. Good sense (by which I mean a capacity for reasoning
justly and discerning truly) applied to the uses of life, and exercised
in distinguishing characters and directing conduct, is alone _necessary_
to an intimate connection; but, without this, the best intentions,
though certain of reward hereafter, may fail of producing their effects
in this life; nor can they singly constitute the character of an useful
and valuable friend. On the other hand, the most dazzling genius, or the
most engaging wit and humour, can but ill answer the purposes of
friendship, without plain common sense and a faculty of just reasoning.
What can one do with those who will not be answered with reason, and
who, when you are endeavouring to convince or persuade them by serious
arguments, will parry the blow with a witty repartee or a stroke of
poignant raillery? I know not whether such a reply is less provoking
than that of an obstinate fool, who answers your strongest reasons
with--"What you say may be very true, but this is my way of thinking." A
small acquaintance with the world will show you instances of the most
absurd and foolish conduct in persons of brilliant parts and
entertaining faculties. But how trifling is the talent of diverting an
idle hour, compared with true wisdom and prudence, which are perpetually
wanted to direct us safely and happily through life, and to make us
useful and valuable to others!
Fancy, I know, will have her share in friendship, as well as in
love:--you must please as well as serve me, before I can love you as the
friend of my heart. But the faculties that please for an evening may not
please for life. The humourous man soon runs through his stock of odd
stories, mimickry, and jest; and the wit, by constant repeated flashes,
confounds and tires one's intellect, instead of enlivening it with
agreeable surprise: but good sense can neither tire nor wear out; it
improves by exercise, and increases in value, the more it is known: the
pleasure it gives in conversation is lasting and satisfactory, because
it is accompanied with improvement; its worth is proportioned to the
occasion that calls for it, and rises highest on the most interesting
topics; the heart, as well as the understanding, finds its account in
it; and our noblest interests are promoted by the entertainment we
receive from such a companion.
A good temper is the next qualification; the value of which in a friend,
you will want no arguments to prove, when you are truly convinced of the
necessity of it in yourself, which I shall endeavour to show you in a
following letter. But, as this is a quality in which you may be
deceived, without a long and intimate acquaintance, you must not be
hasty in forming connections, before you have had sufficient opportunity
for making observations on this head. A young person, when pleased and
enlivened by the presence of her youthful companions, seldom shows ill
temper; which must be extreme indeed, if it is not at least controllable
in such situations. But, you must watch her behaviour to her own family,
and the degree of estimation she stands in with them. Observe her manner
to servants and inferiors--to children--and even to animals. See in
what manner she bears disappointments, contradiction, and restraint;
and what degree of vexation she expresses on any accident of loss or
trouble. If in such little trials she shows a meek, resigned, and
cheerful temper, she will probably preserve it on greater occasions; but
if she is impatient and discontented under these, how will she support
the far greater evils which may await her in her progress through life?
If you should have an opportunity of seeing her in sickness, observe
whether her complaints are of a mild and gentle kind, forced from her by
pain, and restrained as much as possible; or whether they are
expressions of a turbulent rebellious mind, that hardly submits to the
Divine hand. See whether she is tractable, considerate, kind, and
grateful, to those about her: or whether she takes the opportunity,
which their compassion gives her, to tyrannize over and torment them.
Women are in general very liable to ill health, which must necessarily
make them in some measure troublesome and disagreeable to those they
live with. They should therefore, take the more pains to lighten the
burden as much as possible, by patience and good humour; and be careful
not to let their infirmities break in on the health, freedom, or
enjoyments of others, more than is needful and just. Some ladies seem
to think it very improper for any person within their reach to enjoy a
moment's comfort while they are in pain; and make no scruple of
sacrificing to their own least convenience, whenever they are
indisposed, the proper rest, meals, or refreshments of their servants,
and even sometimes of their husbands and children. But their selfishness
defeats its own purpose, as it weakens that affection and tender pity
which excites the most assiduous services, and affords the most healing
balm to the heart of the sufferer.
I have already expressed my wishes that your chosen friend may be some
years older than yourself; but this is an advantage not always to be
obtained. Whatever be her age, _religion_, _discretion_, _good sense_,
and _good temper_, must on no account be dispensed with; and till you
can find one so qualified, you had better make no closer connection than
that of a mutual intercourse of civilities and good offices. But if it
is always your aim to mix with the best company, and to be worthy of
such society, you will probably meet with some one among them deserving
your affection, to whom you may be equally agreeable.
When I speak of the best company, I do not mean, in the common
acceptation of the word, persons of high rank and fortune--but rather
the most worthy and sensible. It is however very important to a young
woman to be introduced into life on a respectable footing, and to
converse with those whose manners and style of life may polish her
behaviour, refine her sentiments, and give her consequence in the eye of
the world. Your equals in rank are most proper for intimacy, but to be
sometimes amongst your superiors is every way desirable and
advantageous, unless it should inspire you with pride, or with the
foolish desire of emulating their grandeur and expense.
Above all things avoid intimacy with those of low birth and education!
nor think it a mark of humility to delight in such society; for it much
oftener proceeds from the meanest kind of pride,--that of being the head
of the company, and seeing your companions subservient to you. The
servile flattery and submission, which usually recommend such people,
and make amends for their ignorance and want of conversation, will
infallibly corrupt your heart, and make all company insipid from whom
you cannot expect the same homage. Your manners and faculties, instead
of improving, must be continually lowered, to suit you to your
companions; and, believe me, you will find it no easy matter to raise
them again to a level with those of polite and well-informed people.
The greatest kindness and civility to inferiors is perfectly consistent
with proper caution on this head. Treat them always with affability, and
talk to them of their own affairs with an affectionate interest; but
never make them familiar, nor admit them as associates in your
diversions: but, above all, never trust them with your secrets, which is
putting yourself entirely in their power, and subjecting yourself to the
most shameful slavery. The only reason for making choice of such
confidants, must be the certainty that they will not venture to blame or
contradict inclinations, which you are conscious no true friend would
encourage. But this is a meanness into which I trust you are in no
danger of falling. I rather hope you will have the laudable ambition of
spending your time chiefly with those, whose superior talents,
education, and politeness, may continually improve you, and whose
society will do you honour. However, let no advantage of this kind
weigh against the want of principle. I have long ago resolved with
David, that, as far as lies in my power, "I will not know a wicked
person." Nothing can compensate for the contagion of bad example, and
for the danger of wearing off by use that abhorrence of evil actions and
sentiments, which every innocent mind sets out with, but which an
indiscriminate acquaintance in the world soon abates, and at length
destroys.