_Errors in the Ordinary Mode of Education._
Ignorance is one of the causes of the _ennui_ and discontent of young
persons, and of the absence of all rational amusement. When a child has
arrived at a certain age without having applied to solid pursuits, she
can have neither taste nor relish for them. Every thing which is serious
assumes to her mind a sorrowful appearance; and that which requires a
continued attention, wearies and disgusts her. The natural inclination
to pleasure, which is strong in youth--the example of young people of
the same age, plunged in dissipation--every thing, in short, serves to
excite a dread of an orderly and industrious life. In this early age,
she wants both experience and authority to take a decided part in the
management of household affairs; she is even ignorant of the important
consequences resulting from it, unless her mother has previously
instructed her in some of its departments. If she be born to affluence,
she is not necessitated to undergo manual toil: she may probably work
an hour or two a day, because she hears it said, without knowing why,
that "it is proper for women to work"--but this pithy proverb will
only produce the semblance, without the substance, of real useful
application.
In such a situation what is she to do? The society of a mother, who
narrowly watches, scolds, and thinks she is performing her duty in not
overlooking the least fault--who is never satisfied, but always trying
the temper, and appears herself immersed in domestic cares; all this
disgusts and torments her. She is, moreover, surrounded with flattering
servants, who, seeking to insinuate themselves, by base and dangerous
compliances, gratify all her fancies, and direct her conversation to
every topic but that of goodness and virtue. To her, piety appears an
irksome task--a foe to every rational amusement. What, then, are her
occupations? None that are useful. Hence arises a habit of indolence,
which at length becomes incurable.
Meantime what is to fill this vacuity? Nothing but the most frivolous
and contemptible pursuits. In such a state of lassitude, a young woman
abandons herself to pure idleness; and idleness, which may be termed
a languor of the soul, is an inexhaustible source of weariness and
discontent. She sleeps one-third more than is necessary to preserve
her health: this protracted slumber serves only to enervate and render
her more delicate; more exposed to the turbulency of passion; whereas
moderate sleep, accompanied with regular exercise, produces that
cheerfulness, vigour, and elasticity of spirits, which form, perhaps,
the true criterion of bodily and mental perfection.
This weariness and idleness, united with ignorance, beget a pernicious
eagerness for public diversions; hence arises a spirit of curiosity, as
indiscreet as it is insatiable.
Those who are instructed and busied in serious employments, have,
in general, but a moderate curiosity. What they know gives them an
indifference for many things of which they are ignorant; and convinces
them of the inutility and absurdity of those things, with which narrow
minds, that know nothing, and have nothing to exercise themselves upon,
are extremely desirous of becoming acquainted.
On the contrary, young women, without instruction and application, have
always a roving imagination. In want of substantial employment, their
curiosity hurries them on to vain and dangerous pursuits. Those who have
somewhat more vivacity, pique themselves on a superior knowledge, and
read, with avidity, every book which flatters their vanity: they become
enamoured of novels, plays, and "Tales of Wonder," in which love and
licentiousness predominate: they fill their minds with visionary
notions, by accustoming themselves to the splendid sentiments of heroes
of romance, and hence are rendered unfit for the common intercourse of
society; for all these fine airy sentiments, these generous passions,
these adventures, which the authors of romance have invented for
mere amusement, have no connexion with the real motives which
agitate mankind, and direct the affairs of the world; nor with those
disappointments which usually accompany us in almost every thing we
undertake.
A poor girl, full of the tender and the marvellous, which have delighted
her in her reading, is astonished not to find in the world real
personages, resembling the heroes she has read of--fain would she live
like those imaginary princesses, whom fiction has described as always
charming, always adored, and always beyond the reach of want. What
disgust must she feel on descending from such a state of heroism, to
the lowest offices of housewifery!
Some there are who push their curiosity still further, and without the
least qualifications, presume to decide upon theological points.--But
those who have not sufficient grasp of intellect for these curiosities,
have other pursuits, better proportioned to their talents: they are
extremely desirous of knowing what is said, and going on in the world--a
song--news--an intrigue--to receive letters, and to read those that
other people receive; these things delight prodigiously; they wish
every thing to be told them, and to tell every thing in turn: they are
vain, and vanity is a sure incentive to talk. They become giddy, and
volatility prevents those reflections from rising which would shew them
the value of silence.