Though the duties of religion, strictly speaking, are equally binding
on both sexes, yet certain differences in their natural character and
education, render some vices in your sex particularly odious. The
natural hardness of our hearts, and strength of our passions, inflamed
by the uncontrolled licence we are too often indulged with in our
youth, are apt to render our manners more dissolute, and make us less
susceptible of the finer feelings of the heart. Your superior delicacy,
your modesty, and the usual severity of your education, preserve
you, in a great measure, from any temptation to those vices to which
we are most subjected. The natural softness and sensibility of your
dispositions particularly fit you for the practice of those duties
where the heart is chiefly concerned. And this, along with the natural
warmth of your imagination, renders you peculiarly susceptible of the
feelings of devotion.
There are many circumstances in your situation that peculiarly
require the supports of religion to enable you to act in them with
spirit and propriety. Your whole life is often a life of suffering. You
cannot plunge into business, or dissipate yourselves in pleasure and
riot, as men too often do, when under the pressure of misfortunes. You
must bear your sorrows in silence, unknown and unpitied. You must often
put on a face of serenity and cheerfulness, when your hearts are torn
with anguish, or sinking in despair. Then your only resource is in the
consolations of religion. It is chiefly owing to these, that you bear
domestic misfortunes better than we do.
But you are sometimes in very different circumstances, that equally
require the restraints of religion. The natural vivacity, and perhaps
the natural vanity of your sex, is very apt to lead you into a
dissipated state of life, that deceives you, under the appearance of
innocent pleasure; but which in reality wastes your spirits, impairs
your health, weakens all the superior faculties of your minds, and
often sullies your reputations. Religion, by checking this dissipation,
and rage for pleasure, enables you to draw more happiness, even from
those very sources of amusement, which, when too frequently applied to,
are often productive of satiety and disgust.
Religion is rather a matter of sentiment than reasoning. The important
and interesting articles of faith are sufficiently plain. Fix your
attention on these, and do not meddle with controversy. If you get into
that, you plunge into a chaos, from which you will never be able to
extricate yourselves. It spoils the temper, and, I suspect, has no good
effect on the heart.
Avoid all books, and all conversation, that tend to shake your faith
on those great points of religion, which should serve to regulate your
conduct, and on which your hopes of future and eternal happiness depend.
Never indulge yourselves in ridicule on religious subjects; nor give
countenance to it in others, by seeming diverted with what they say.
This, to people of good breeding, will be a sufficient check.
I wish you to go no further than the Scriptures for your religious
opinions. Embrace those you find clearly revealed. Never perplex
yourselves about such as you do not understand, but treat them with
silent and becoming reverence.--I would advise you to read only such
religious books as are addressed to the heart, such as inspire pious
and devout affections, such as are proper to direct you in your
conduct, and not such as tend to entangle you in the endless maze of
opinions and systems.
Be punctual in the stated performance of your private devotions,
morning and evening. If you have any sensibility or imagination,
this will establish such an intercourse between you and the Supreme
Being, as will be of infinite consequence to you in life. It will
communicate an habitual cheerfulness to your tempers, give a firmness
and steadiness to your virtue, and enable you to go through all the
vicissitudes of human life with propriety and dignity.
I wish you to be regular in your attendance on public worship, and
in receiving the communion. Allow nothing to interrupt your public or
private devotions, except the performance of some active duty in life,
to which they should always give place.--In your behaviour at public
worship, observe an exemplary attention and gravity.
That extreme strictness which I recommend to you in these duties,
will be considered by many of your acquaintance as a superstitious
attachment to forms; but in the advices I give you on this and other
subjects, I have an eye to the spirit and manners of the age. There
is a levity and dissipation in the present manners, a coldness and
listlessness in whatever relates to religion, which cannot fail to
infect you, unless you purposely cultivate in your minds a contrary
bias, and make the devotional taste habitual.
Avoid all grimace and ostentation in your religious duties. They are
the usual cloaks of hypocrisy; at least they show a weak and vain mind.
Do not make religion a subject of common conversation in mixed
companies. When it is introduced, rather seem to decline it. At the
same time, never suffer any person to insult you by any foolish
ribaldry on your religious opinions, but show the same resentment you
would naturally do on being offered any other personal insult. But the
surest way to avoid this, is by a modest reserve on the subject, and by
using no freedom with others about their religious sentiments.
Cultivate an enlarged charity for all mankind, however they may differ
from you in their religious opinions. That difference may probably
arise from causes in which you had no share, and from which you can
derive no merit.
Show your regard to religion, by a distinguishing respect to all
its ministers, of whatever persuasion, who do not by their lives
dishonour their profession: but never allow them the direction of your
consciences, lest they taint you with the narrow spirit of their party.
The best effect of your religion will be a diffusive humanity to all in
distress.--Set apart a certain proportion of your income as sacred to
charitable purposes. But in this, as well as in the practice of every
other duty, carefully avoid ostentation. Vanity is always defeating
her own purposes. Fame is one of the natural rewards of virtue. Do not
pursue her, and she will follow you.
Do not confine your charity to giving money. You may have many
opportunities of showing a tender and compassionate spirit where your
money is not wanted.--There is a false and unnatural refinement in
sensibility, which makes some people shun the sight of every object
in distress. Never indulge this, especially where your friends or
acquaintances are concerned. Let the days of their misfortunes, when
the world forgets or avoids them, be the season for you to exercise
your humanity and friendship. The sight of human misery softens
the heart, and makes it better: it checks the pride of health and
prosperity, and the distress it occasions is amply compensated by the
consciousness of doing your duty, and by the secret endearment which
nature has annexed to all our sympathetic sorrows.
Women are greatly deceived, when they think they recommend themselves
to our sex by their indifference about religion. Even those men who are
themselves unbelievers, dislike infidelity in you. Every man who knows
human nature, connects a religious taste in your sex with softness and
sensibility of heart; at least we always consider the want of it as a
proof of that hard and masculine spirit, which of all your faults we
dislike the most. Besides, men consider your religion as one of their
principal securities for that female virtue in which they are most
interested. If a gentleman pretends an attachment to any of you, and
endeavours to shake your religious principles, be assured he is either
a fool, or has designs on you which he dares not openly avow.
You will probably wonder at my having educated you in a church
different from my own. The reason was plainly this: I looked on the
difference between our churches to be of no real importance, and that a
preference of one to the other was a mere matter of taste. Your mother
was educated in the church of England, and had an attachment to it,
and I had a prejudice in favour of every thing she liked. It never was
her desire that you should be baptised by a clergyman of the church of
England, or be educated in that church. On the contrary, the delicacy
of her regard to the smallest circumstance that could affect me in the
eye of the world, made her anxiously insist it might be otherwise. But
I could not yield to her in that kind of generosity.--When I lost her,
I became still more determined to educate you in that church, as I feel
a secret pleasure in doing every thing that appears to me to express my
affection and veneration for her memory.--I draw but a very faint and
imperfect picture of what your mother was, while I endeavour to point
out what you should be[A].
[A] The reader will remember, that such observations as respect
equally both the sexes, are all along as much as possible
avoided.