University of Virginia Library

LETTER XI.
Mrs. HOLMES to MYRA.

I sit down to give you, my dear
Myra, some account of the visitants of today,
and their conversation. We are not
always distinguished by such company, but
perhaps it is sometimes necessary; and as
it is a relaxation from thought, it serves to
give us more pleasure in returning to the
conversation of people of ideas.

MRS. Bourn assumes a higher rank in life
than she pretended to seven years ago.—She
then walked on foot—she now, by good fortune,
rides in a chariot. Placed, however,
in a situation with which her education
does not altogether comport, she has nothing

disagreeable but her over assiduity to please—
this is sometimes disgusting, for one cannot
feast heartily upon honey: It is an errour
which a candid mind easily forgives. She
sometimes appears solicitous to display her
mental accomplishments, and desirous to
improve those of her daughter; but it is
merely apparent. Notwithstanding a temporary
wish may arise towards the attainment
of this point, a habitual vacancy nips
it in the bud.

MISS Bourn is about the age of fourteen—
genteel, with a tolerable share of beauty, but
not striking—her dress was elegant, but
might have been adjusted to more advantage—not
altogether aukward in her manners,
nor yet can she be called graceful—

she has a peculiar air of drollery which takes
her by fits, and for this reason, perhaps, does
not avail herself of every opportunity of displaying
the modesty of her sex—she has seen
much company, but instead of polishing her
manners, it has only increased her assurance.

THUS much of the characters of our
company. After some small chat which passed
as we took a turn in the garden, we entered
the Temple.

“WHAT books would you recommend
to put into the hands of my daughter?”
said Mrs. Bourn, as she walked into the library—“it
is a matter of some importance.”
“It is a matter of more importance,” answered

Worthy, “than is generally imagined,
for unless a proper selection is made, one
would do better never to read at all:—Now,
Madam, as much depends on the choice of
books, care should be taken not to put those
in the way of young persons, which might
leave on their minds any disagreeable prejudices,
or which has a tendency to corrupt
their morals.”—“As obvious as your remark
is,” added Mr. Holmes, “it is evidently
overlooked in the common course of
education. We wisely exclude those persons
from our conversation, whose characters
are bad, whose manners are depraved,
or whose morals are impure; but if they are
excluded from an apprehension of contaminating
our minds, how much more dangerous
is the company of those books, where
the strokes aimed at virtue are redoubled,
and the poison of vice, by repeatedly reading
the same thing, indelibly distains the
young mind?”

“WE all agree,” rejoined Worthy, “that
it is as great a matter of virtue and prudence
to be circumspect in the selection of our
books, as in the choice of our company.—
But, Sir, the best things may be subverted
to an ill use. Hence we may possibly
trace the cause of the ill tendency of many
of the Novels extant.”

“MOST of the Novels,” interrupted my
father, “with which our female libraries are
overrun, are built on a foundation not always
placed on strict morality, and in the

pursuit of objects not always probable of
praiseworthy.—Novels, not regulated on the
chaste principles of true friendship, rational
love, and connubial duty, appear to me totally
unfit to form the minds of women, of
friends, or of wives.”

“BUT, as most young people read,” says
Mrs. Bourn—“what rule can be bit upon
to make study always terminate to advan-tage?”

“IMPOSSIBLE,” cried Miss, “for I read
as much as any body, and though it may
afford amusement, while I am employed, I
do not remember a single word; when I lay
down the book.”

“THIS confirms what I say of Novels,”
cried Mr. Holmes, addressing Worthy in a
jocular manner, “just calculated to kill time
—to attract the attention of the reader for
an hour, but leave not one idea on the
mind.”

“I AM far from condemning every production
in the gross,” replied Worthy;
“general satire against any particular class,
or order of men, may be viewed in the same
light as a satire against the species—it is the
same with books—If there are corrupt or
mortified members, it is hardly fair to destroy
the whole body. Now I grant some
Novels have a bad tendency, yet there are
many which contain excellent sentiments—
let these receive their deserved reward—let

those be discountenanced; and if it is impossible
“to smite them with an apoplexy, there
is a moral certainty of their dying of a
consumption.”—But, as Mrs. Bourn observes,
most young persons read, I will therefore
recommend to those who wish to mingle
instruction with entertainment, method
and regularity in reading. To dip into any
book burthens the mind with unnecessary
lumber, and may rather be called a disadvantage,
than a benefit—The record of
memory is so serawled and blotted with imperfect
ideas, that not one legible character
can be traced.”

“WERE I to throw my thoughts on this
subject,” said my good father-in-law, as he
began to enter more warmly into the debate

—drawing his chair opposite Worthy, and
raising his hand with a poetical enthusiasm
—“Were I to throw my thoughts on this
subject into an Allegory, I would describe
the human mind as an extensive plain, and
knowledge as the river that should water it.
If the course of the river be properly directed,
the plain will be fertilized and cultivated
to advantage; but if books, which are
the sources that feed this river, rush into it
from every quarter, it will overflow its
banks, and the plain will become inundated:
When, therefore, knowledge flows on in
its proper channel, this extensive and valuable
field, the mind, instead of being covered
with stagnant waters, is cultivated to the
utmost advantage, and blooms luxuriantly
into a general efflorescence—for a river properly
restricted by high banks, is necessarily
progressive.”

THE old gentleman brought down his
hand with great selemnity, and we complimented
him on his poetical exertion. “I
cannot comprehend the meaning of this
matter,” said the penetrative Miss Bourn.
“I will explain it to you, my little dear,”
said he, with great good nature—“If you
read with any design to improve your mind
in virtue and every amiable accomplishment,
you should be careful to read methodically,
which will enable you to form an estimate
of the various topicks discussed in company;
and to bear a part in all those conversations
which belong to your sex—you see, therefore,
how necessary general knowledge is—

what would you think of a woman advanced
in life, who has no other store of knowledge,
than what she has obtained from experi-ence?”

“I THINK she would have a sorry time
of it;” answered Miss.

“TO prevent it in yourself,” said Mrs.
Bourn to her daughter, “be assiduous to lay
in a good stock of this knowledge, while
your mind is yet free from prejudice and
care.”

“HOW shall I go to work, Madam,” enquired
the delicate daughter.

MRS. Bourn turned towards Mr. Holmes,
which was hint enough for the good old
man to proceed.

“THERE is a medium to be observed,
continued he, in a lady's reading; she is
not to receive every thing she finds, even in
the best books, as invariable lessons of conduct;
in books written in an easy, flowing
style, which excel in description and the luxuriance
of fancy, the imagination is apt to
get heated—she ought, therefore, to discern
with an eye of judgment, between the superficial
and the penetrating—the elegant
and the tawdry—what may be merely amusing,
and what may be useful. General
reading will not teach her a true knowledge
of the world.

“IN books she finds recorded the faithfulness
of friendship—the constancy of true
love, and even that honesty is the best policy.

If virtue is represented carrying its reward
with it, she too easily persuades herself
that mankind have adopted this plan: Thus
she finds, when, perhaps, it is too late, that
she has entertained wrong notions of human
nature; that her friends are deceitful—her
lovers false—and that men consult interest
oftener than honesty.

“A YOUNG lady who has imbibed her
ideas of the world from desultory reading,
and placed confidence in the virtue of others,
will bring back disappointment, when she
expected gratitude. Unsuspicious of deceit,
she is easily deceived—from the purity of her
own thoughts, she trusts the faith of mankind,
until experience convinces her of her
errour—she falls a sacrifice to her credulity,

and her only consolation is the simplicity and
goodness of her heart.

“THE story of Miss Whitman[1] is an emphatical
illustration of the truth of these
observations. An inflated fancy, not restricted

by judgment, leads too often to disappointment
and repentance. Such will be
the fate of those who become (to use her
own words)

“WITH a good heart she possessed a poetical
imagination, and an unbounded thirst for
novelty; but these airy talents, not counterpoised
with judgment, or perhaps serious reflection,

instead of adding to her happiness,
were the cause of her ruin.”

“I CONCLUDE from your reasoning,” said
I, “and it is, besides, my own opinion, that
many fine girls have been ruined by reading
Novels.”

“AND I believe,” added Mrs. Bourn
“we may trace from hence the causes of
spleen in many persons advanced in life.”

“YOU mean old maids, Madam,” cries
the sagacious Miss, “like my aunt Deborah
—she calls all the men deceitful, and most
women, with her, are no better than they
should be.”

“WELL said exclaimed Worthy, “the
recollection of chagrin and former disappointment,
sours one's temper and mortifies
the heart—disappointment will be more or
less severe in proportion as we elevate our
expectations; for the most sanguine tempers
are the soonest discouraged; as the highest
building is in the most danger of falling.”

“IT appears from what I have said resumed
Mr. Holmes, “that those books which
teach us a knowledge of the world are useful
to form the minds of females, and ought
therefore to be studied.”

I MENTIONED Rochefoucault's maxims.—

“DO they not degrade human nature?”
enquired my father.

“THIS little book,” answered Worthy,
“contains much truth—and those
short sketches traced by the hand of judgment,
present to us the leading features of
mankind.” “But,” replied my father,
“that interest should assume all shapes, is a doctrine,
which, in my mind, represents a caricature
rather than a living picture.” “It is

the duty of a painter to produce a likeness,”
said Worthy.—“And a skilful one,” cried
my father, continuing the metaphor, “will
bring the amiable qualities of the heart to
light; and throw those which disgrace humanity
into the shade.” “I doubt,” rejoined
Worthy, “whether this flattery will
answer the purpose you aim to accomplish—
You entertain a high opinion of the dignity
of human nature, and are displeased at the author
who advances any thing derogatory to
that dignity. Swift, in speaking of these
maxims, in one of his best poems, affirms,

“AS I began this subject,” added I, “it shall
be ended by one observation—As these maxims
give us an idea of the manners and characters

of men, among whom a young person
is soon to appear; and as it is necessary
to her security and happiness that she be
made acquainted with them—they may be
read to advantage.”

“THERE is another medium,” said Mr.
Holmes, assenting to my observation, “to be
noticed in the study of a lady—she takes up
a book, either for instruction or entertainment;
the medium lies in knowing when
to put it down. Constant application becomes
labour—it sours the temper—gives an
air of thoughtfulness, and frequently of absence.
By immoderate reading we hoard up
opinions and become insensibly attached to
them; this miserly conduct sinks us to affectation,
and disgustful pedantry; conversation

only can remedy this dangerous evil, strengthen
the judgment, and make reading really
useful. They mutually depend upon, and
assist each other.

“A KNOWLEDGE of HISTORY which exhibits
to us in one view the rise, progress and
decay of nations—which points out the advancement
of the mind in society, and the
improvements in the arts which adorn human
nature, comes with propriety under the
notice of a lady. To observe the origin of
civilization—the gradual progress of society,
and the resinements of manners, policy, morality
and religion—to observe the progression
of mankind from simplicity to luxury,
from luxury to effeminacy, and the gradual
steps of the decline of empire, and the dissolution

of states and kingdoms, must blend
that happy union of instruction and entertainment,
which never fails to win our attention
to the pursuit of all subjects.

“POETRY claims her due from the ladies.
POETRY enlarges and strengthens the mind,
refines the taste and improves the judgment.
It has been afferted that women have no
business with satire—now satire is but a
branch of poetry. I acknowledge, however,
much false wit is sent into the world, under
this general title; but no critick with whom
I am acquainted ever called satire false wit—
for as long as vice and folly continue to predominate
in the human heart, the satirist
will be considered as a useful member of
society. I believe Addison calls him an auxiliary

to the pulpit. Suffer me to enlarge
on this new idea. Satire is the correction
of the vices and follies of the human
heart; a woman may, therefore, read it to
advantage. What I mean by enforcing this
point, is, to impress the minds of females
with a principle of self correction; for among
all kinds of knowledge which arise
from reading, the duty of self knowledge is
a very eminent one; and is at the same
time, the most useful and important.

OUR ordinary intercourse with the world,
will present to us in a very clear point of
view, the fallacious ideas we sometimes entertain
of our own self knowledge.—We are
blinded by pride and self love, and will not
observe our own imperfections, which we

blame with the greatest acrimony in
other people, and seem to deteft with the
greatest abhorrence; so that it often happens,
while we are branding our neighbour for
some foible, or vanity, we ourselves are
equally guilty.

“RIDICULOUS as this conduct must appear
in the eyes of all judicious people, it is
too frequently practised to escape observa-tion.

“I WILL drop this piece of morality,
with a charge to the fair reader, that whenever
she discovers a fatire, ridiculing or recriminating
the follies or crimes of mankind,
that she look into her own heart, and compare
the strictures on the conduct of others
with her own feelings.”