WHAT is the chief advantage which children may receive from their parents?

A good education.

Is not education the basis on which de­pends the fate of their whole life?

It is so said, and with justice.

Is not the happiness or misery of human life entirely owing to education? that is to say, to the principles we receive in youth?

It absolutely is.

[Page 8] Does not the strength and solidity of a building totally rest on the firmness of the foundation which sustains it?

Most undoubtedly.

Can an edifice, built on a weak founda­tion, long exist? Is it not threatened with approaching ruin?

Such an edifice cannot long exist; it must certainly fall in a little time.

Is it not the same with respect to educa­tion? If it is vicious, if it does not tend to impress our minds with good, generous, and virtuous sentiments, can we ever hope to become prudent, discreet, respectable, and capable of fulfilling with dignity the duties of that station in life which Provi­dence has allotted us?

Without a good education a child can scarcely afterwards acquire the qualities which render man good and virtuous.

[Page 9] An ancient has observed, that youth is the most respectable of the different stages of life: Is the observation just? and, In what sense should we comprehend it?

The remark is just; because that age commonly decides the happiness or misery of future life.

Do we not frequently compare a child to a young plant?

Yes—we are accustomed to make that comparison.

Is not a young plant, newly received into the bosom of the earth, susceptible of every form we wish to give it?

That it is, without the least difficulty.

If it is not straight; if it is bent and crooked, or inclined downward; can we not easily make it erect, in the first stages of its growth, and remove all its imperfections?

[Page 10] This is done with facility, and continually practised.

If we wait till it has grown up, and ga­thered strength with its growth, will it then be as pliant, as manageable, and as fit to receive a new form?

By no means—we should then have more difficulty in making it receive new impres­sions.

Will not the task become more difficult in proportion as it is delayed, and as the plant increases and grows larger?

That must naturally be the case.

Should we wait till it becomes a great tree, would it then be possible to change its stubborn inclination? Would it not, on the contrary, always preserve it, whatever pains we may take, or desires we may have, to subdue it into new habits?

It is certain the plant we treat of will ever remain in this defective state, from [Page 11]which no human exertions will be capable of altering it.

Do not these different conditions of the plant give us a lively idea of the different stages of human life, namely, infancy, youth, and mature years?

Perfectly well—and it is easy to make the application.

Do not the defective forms observed in some plants represent to us the defects per­ceived in some children?

The comparison is simple and natural.

By the same mode of reasoning, as we may easily remedy the defects in tender plants in the first season of their growth, is it not likely that we may, with the same fa­cility, remedy the imperfections of youth, when reason begins to dawn on the infant soul?

To me it seems so—and I believe that ear­ly youth is the most proper season to amend the defects which then begin to appear.

[Page 12] Do you not imagine, that if, at such a period, young people are neglected, their imperfections will increase, strengthen, and take a new and wayward turn, like the plant in its second state; and that after­wards it will be infinitely more difficult to reform them, should such an arduous task be undertaken?

It is true, no doubt, and daily experience confirms it.

What would you think if those very young people constantly practised the errors of youth, and persevered in them to an ad­vanced age?

I must think they would certainly be­come habitual; and habit to man is a kind of second nature.

Do you suppose that a tree can produce good fruit, if neglected and left to itself?

In order that a tree should yield good fruit, it is very necessary to attend to it, especially when it is young.

[Page 13] Do we ever see good seed sown in the ground till it is first ploughed and tilled?

No—the earth must be tilled if the wish to reap the harvest in the season.

What does the best soil produce, when it is not prepared by the labour of man?

Soil thus neglected, yields nothing but brambles, thorns, and noxious herbs.

What does the brightest genius produce when it is not cultivated with diligence, and enriched by the advantages of a good edu­cation?

The brightest genius without the assist­ance of a good education, can hardly ever yield any good, noble, great, or generous sentiment.

To what should a young person apply, who has received the benefit of a good edu­cation?

[Page 14] To the study of virtue, science, and good manners.

Which of these two advantages, virtue or science, merits the preference?

Virtue is preferable to all things.

Is not the man to whom virtue is al­lotted, to be esteemed at all times, and in the eyes of the whole world?

Yes—virtue alone is sufficient to render a man each moment valuable, and in every age.

Does not science, unaccompanied by vir­tue, deserve our esteem?

Not at all—science has no intrinsic worth, but when combined with merit and virtue.

Are there not some literary characters, possessed of much erudition, who are at the same time, dangerous, obnoxious, and con­temptible?

[Page 15] We discover some of that tribe in every country, age, and government.

Does the good and virtuous man some­times seek to do harm?

No—he endeavours only to do good; and the instant he begins to do hurt, he ceases to be good.

Have we always the same ideas of good­ness and virtue?

We have.

Are these ideas common to all nations of the globe?

These ideas are generally diffused, and are common to the inhabitants of Europe, as well as to those of Asia, Africa, and America.

Upon what are these notions of good and virtue founded?

[Page 16] Upon the eternal and unchangeable prin­ciples which God has engraven on the heart of man.

By what means are we to become good in mature years, and during the whole course of life?

By beginning in time, or in early youth.

Can we learn the principles and art of virtue, as we do the other arts, for in­stance, that of medicine?

Yes—there is a method and art of teach­ing the rules of virtue, as well as of ac­quiring the other sciences.

Was this art known to the ancients, and practised by them?

History informs us, that the ancients well knew and practised this art.

Could you quote some passages from his­tory on this subject, to shew us by exam­ple, [Page 17]how they formerly instructed the youth of Persia, Lacedemonia, Athens, and Rome?—begin with Persia.

Formerly in Persia, the education of youth was considered the most important duty, and essential province of government: it did not depend on the attention of pa­rents, whom a blind and partial tenderness often rendered incapable of this care: the state was entrusted with it: the youth were educated in common, after an uniform man­ner by which all were regulated: the scene and continuance of their recreations; the time of their meals; the quality of their meat and drink; the number of their mas­ters; the different modes of chastisement.

In Persia the youth went to school to learn justice, as elsewhere they go there to acquire literature and the sciences. The crime they punished most, was that of ingratitude.

There were some in a class from child­hood till they were sixteen or seventeen years old, at which period they entered the [Page 18]class of young men; and then the strictest authority was exercised over them, be­cause that age, above any other, has need of the guardian eye of vigilance to watch over it. They remained ten years in this class, under the direction of four different masters, distinguished for their science, but much more for their merit. It was the pro­vince of each of these to instruct them in a particular virtue: one taught religion; an­other justice; the third pointed out the un­ruffled serenity proceeding from temper­ance; and the fourth instilled the principles of courage.

The third class was composed of those arrived at the state of manhood. Places and preferments were granted in the state to those only who had passed through the different classes, and given proofs of their application, merit, and abilities.

Falsehood was severely punished, and any one inclined to this vice was considered as infamous.

[Page 19] The object of the Persians in their whole­some laws respecting education was, to pre­vent evil, persuaded that it was better to do so than to punish it: And whilst in other states, punishments were decreed to be in­flicted on criminals, they endeavoured to act in such a manner, as that among them, there should be no guilty persons.

What was the authority of parents over their children?

It was very great—they had the power of life and death over them.

How did they educate their children at Lacedemon?

Much the same way as at Persia: they did not commit to parents the education of their children; the state took charge of them, and caused them all to be brought up in the same manner. The great princi­ple of the legislature of Lacedemon was, that as children belonged to the common­wealth, [Page 20]they should be educated by the commonwealth, and for the public weal.

The grand science which they taught them, above all other things, was, an en­tire and implicit obedience to the laws, to magistrates, to their parents, and in gene­ral, to all those who were older than them­selves. In fact, their obedience was not confined to their own parents alone, but all others had equally a right of commanding them; so that if any parent had detected a child in error, he was obliged to reprove, correct, and chastise him: if the child hap­pened to complain to his own parent, it would have been considered shameful in him, did he not inflict the same punishment which was already felt from the hands of the stranger, who was the subject of com­plaint.

They inured them early to hardship, to enable them to support all sorts of fatigue and labour: from the age of seven years, they were set to work in order to invigo­rate [Page 21]their bodies: they were accustomed to different exercises suitable to their years and growth: they always had some elderly per­son among them, who presided at their ex­ercises; and in his absence the most prudent youth was made guardian over the rest, who were subject to him.

They were obliged to sleep on hard beds, composed of a kind of reeds, which they collected with their own hands, without the help of any implement: their apparel was always of the same stuff, and they had not the liberty of changing it according to the seasons: they were not suffered to use nightly lamps to light them through the streets.

They were admitted to public feasts, which, it is known, took place in this re­public. Thither they daily went to dine with their fathers. When they entered the hall, the eldest pointing to the door de­livered to them these words, "Let no­thing that is mentioned here be conveyed hence through that gateway." This was [Page 22]done in order to accustom them to keep secrets. Those feasts were to them an excellent school of instruction, for sobriety, temper­ance, wisdom, and modesty. Here they heard serious discourses on politics, govern­ment, and morals; eulogiums on good and virtuous actions; and severe strictures on those which were unworthy. Hence they became acquainted with the characters of great men, and those virtues which had endeared them to the state.

In order to form the heart and judgment, several questions were proposed to them, such as follow: Who was the most honest man in the republic? Which were the ne­cessary virtues to form a good magistrate, a good general, &c.? they had to reply im­mediately to these interrogatories; and he who failed to do so was instantly punished. Their answers were concise and pertinent; for they were accustomed to say little, but to convey much in few words, because their language was lively, short, and comprehen­sive; and on this account the Lacedemonian language is termed laconic; so that we still [Page 23]say, when we speak of a person who ex­presses himself with brevity, that his style is laconic.

Could you quote some examples of this brevity of style?

Among others the two following are re­lated: Philip, king of Macedon, being at war with the Lacedemonians, informed them by letter, that if he entered their ter­ritories with his army, he would lay all waste before him. They answered him by this single monosyllable, if.—The same mo­narch having addressed them in a long let­ter, in which he required to know of them, whether he should enter Laconia as a friend or enemy? They replied, neither.

Could you introduce here any instances of the courage and patience of the Lacede­monian children, in supporting their ills?

History offers us the two following: A Lacedemonian child being employed in a religious ceremony, it happened that a [Page 24]burning coal fell on his sleeve which took fire and burned his hand: he endured the pain without shedding a tear, or making any attempt to extinguish the fire; and all this not to interrupt the order of the sa­crifice.

They report that another child, having stolen a fox, concealed it inside his shirt: the ferocious animal tore out his bowels, without the child's complaining, who dread­ed his theft might be discovered.

In what manner did the philosophers, particularly Socrates, instruct and form the youth at Athens?

The custom of the ancient philosophers at Athens was to assemble, at stated times, and collect their disciples; to discourse fa­miliarly in their presence on the different branches of philosophy; to examine them often on the most important points in mo­rals, politics, and government, and minute­ly expound these different subjects. Thus Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and many others, [Page 25]educated their followers. Plato held his school in a garden at Athens, called aca­demy; from thence we derive the same name which we use in the present day to denote the different societies of learned men.

When any of their scholars had a lively desire to pursue the sciences and an ar­dent ambition to become a philosopher, he chose one who was most eminent in that part of literature which he was so emulous to acquire; he became attached to him in a particular manner; he constantly followed him for whole years, and applied himself the entire time to learn his lessons, to study his principles, and to form his conduct after his example.

In such manner was Archelaus the disci­ple of Anaxagoras; Socrates of Archelaus; Xenophon and Plato of Socrates; Xende­rates and Aristotle of Plato; besides many others. There were some even who un­dertook long voyages, in order to find out some distinguished literary character, under whom they studied many years. Among those [Page 26]different philosophers, there is one who me­rits our particular attention, and whose name is highly worthy to be made known to you here; I mean Socrates, who may be justly considered one of the greatest sages among the heathens. This great man de­voted his chief labours, and almost his whole life, to the instruction of youth. We can­not express what important services he ren­dered the state by his instruction, and the great number of pupils he had formed. Never had master so many, nor any more illustrious. It seems, says Libanius, that he was the common father of the republic, he was so watchful over the welfare and interests of all.

Before his time, the philosophers studied natural objects; they had warm disputes about matters which they could not fa­thom; on the manner in which the world has been formed; on the cause of pheno­mena which happen in the heavens and on the earth. Socrates deemed such researches of no utility, and considered those who in­troduced them deficient in true wisdom and [Page 27]solid understanding. What gave him a great disgust to the different sects who lived in his time was, particularly the infinite diver­sity and inconsistency of the opinions which they taught. For, said he, even amongst madmen, we find some who are not intimi­dated at the appearance of things which are really terrifying, and others who are scared at the sight of the most common and well-known objects: even among the phi­losophers of our days, there are some who blush not publicly to indulge their disciples in principles the most repugnant to the common ideas of reason and decorum; while others, who fall into opposite errors, scarce­ly suffer them to leave their dwellings, or to do the most simple and innocent ac­tions: we observe some who ridicule tem­ples, altars, and the Divinity himself; others who give into the most extravagant super­stition, and go so far as to adore statues of, wood, and even those of brutes.

As to those sects who study the nature of the universe; one party asserts that there is but one world; another pretends that [Page 28]there are an infinity. Those would main­tain that all the parts of the world are in perpetual motion; these that it remains in a state of perfect and unchangeable repose, &c.

From his observations on such contradic­tions and inconsistencies in the schools, he was estranged from them, and sought a more certain and useful method. He pur­sued a track of philosophy comprehending more generally received and established principles, of some advantage to his scho­lars, and infinitely more valuable, solid, and permanent; a moral and practical philoso­phy, which tends to make man better.

He was the first, says Cicero, who made wisdom descend from above, to dwell in the habitations and in the midst of families. He kept no open school, like the other philosophers, not set hours for his lessons. He was a philosopher of all seasons and all hours: he taught in every place, and on every occasion: on his walks, in conversa­tion, at meals, in the army, the midst of the camp, in public assemblies of the peo­ple [Page 29]or the senate, even in the prison, and when taking a draught of hemlock, he phi­losophized, says Plutarch, and instructed mankind.

At Athens, his custom was, to go every day into the streets, squares, and assemblies; he there familiarly and simply treated on sub­jects relating to government and the con­duct of life: he spoke of piety, impiety; honesty, dishonesty; justice, injustice; wis­dom and folly; courage and cowardice; on government, the republic, politics, magis­tracy, and all things of which the know­ledge is necessary to man.

His method of teaching was to make many interrogatories; hence it was remark­ed, that he was himself ignorant of things he professed to teach others, and that he thereby sought to improve himself. There was, however, such exquisite art in his ques­tions, and he proposed them in such a man­ner, as to render the truths so clear and precise, that it was impossible for his hearers not to consent to them.

[Page 30] He accompanied his instructions with a great number of comparisons, which were very plain, and drawn from the most com­mon and simple subjects. He knew ex­tremely well how to adapt himself to the capacity and wants of his hearers, pointing out to each the duties of his station and years: he began, by impressing on their minds the principles of religion; above all things recommending to them, never to un­dertake any thing without consulting the will of the gods, and endeavouring to ren­der them propitious, by offering up the sa­crifices used in his time. From thence he entered into a detail of the obligations of civil life, admonishing the men to be good husbands; the women to be discreet, mo­dest, wise, and virtuous; both to be good fathers and mothers; to give their children a turn for labour; to teach them the prac­tice of virtue, and inspire them with a love of their country: directing the children also to be respectful to their parents, docile and submissive to their superiors. He strenu­ously recommended to all his fellow-citi­zens a zealous attachment to the common­wealth, [Page 31]an entire submission to the orders of magistracy, and the laws of the state. He expatiated much on these different sub­jects, pointing every sentiment to the feel­ings of the heart, more forcibly than to the understanding; displaying truth with that simple, natural eloquence, at the same time animated and pathetic, which renders vir­tue truly amiable, and could not fail to pro­duce the most happy impressions on his hearers. It is not then astonishing, that he so happily succeeded in luring from the paths of vice such a vast number of youth.

Socrates never instructed his pupils in the precepts of eloquence, till he had first given them a taste of the moral and politi­cal virtues: he saw plainly that virtue should be the foundation of eloquence; and that we should be good and virtuous be­fore we are eloquent. As to eloquence, his opinion was, that whoever conceives a thing justly, can easily explain it, and give an account of it to others. On these prin­ciples he was assiduous in giving his scho­lars clear, just, and distinct notions of [Page 32]things; which he did by explaining them in the most circumstantial manner. The better to accomplish his views, he made use of dialogue, and proposed questions, which threw light on the subject, and rendered it obvious to every capacity. If he entered on any discourse, he began by laying down sure and evident principles, deeming it the best mode of convincing. Likewise, says Xenophon, he was of all I ever knew, the man, who, without contradiction, had the happiest knack at persuasion.

The following examples, which Xeno­phon has offered us, may give us an idea of the manner in which Socrates taught the virtues he so diligently recommended to his disciples; and abhorred the vices, for which he implanted in their minds the utmost dis­gust and aversion.

He asked them, Whether liberty was not one of the most invaluable blessings which man could enjoy? Yes, undoubtedly, replied they. Do you think him free who suffers himself to be hurried away by sen­sual [Page 33]gratifications, inordinate passions, and their despotic sway, that iron bar to the practice of virtue? No—he cannot be free. What opinion have you of those masters who divert us from good, and lead us into evil? They are, in our judgment, the most wicked of all mankind. Do not all the world agree, that the passions, and especi­ally that of intemperance, hinder man from the exercise of virtue, and urge him to evil? It is an unquestionable truth. What would you think of a prince, who would deprive his subjects of their property, the state of its citizens, society of its members, and fa­milies of their support? of a prince, who, having no law but his tyrannical will, would condemn to misery, to torture, to disease, to violent and sudden death, those who would acknowledge his authority? of a prince, in short, whose laws would be much more injurious to his subjects, than salutary or advantageous? What idea must you en­tertain of such a prince? He would truly appear, in our eyes, the most cruel of all tyrants. This barbarous tyrant, returns Socrates, is intemperance, who suddenly [Page 34]whelms, in every calamity, those who sub­mit to his laws. He strips them of their rights, in order to enslave them to customs which religion, honour, and reason unani­mously reject. He deprives the state of ci­tizens, by rendering them incapable of be­coming useful to it; society of its members, to which they are a plague, by the conta­gion of their bad examples; and families of their hopes, to which they prove, by the baseness of their conduct, a scandal and in­famy. This frantic tyrant plunges his vic­tims into a sea of troubles. He never ceases to level his empoisoned arrows in or­der to wound them in every part; in their person, property, mind, conscience, honour, and reputation. This vice is the source of sufferings and diseases; the cause of shame­ful and untimely deaths; the ruin of fami­lies, children, and friends.

What we say here of intemperance, we can equally say of the other vices and inor­dinate passions, of anger, pride, gluttony, avarice, and ambition. These cruel masters command, with such authority, the slaves, [Page 35]which are once subject to them, that du­ring the labours of their youth and age, they compel them to devote their whole time to their service; to yield them the en­tire produce of those labours; to undergo many hardships and difficulties; and at last, even to sink into poverty and wretchedness, for the gratification of their desires. But at length, when they are worn out in the service, and incapable of being any longer useful to them, their masters forsake them, suffering them to languish in old age, and drag on a miserable existence, in despair and unavailing pensive reflections on the past.

He thus makes them perceive that they are blindfolded by this vice, and prevented from distinguishing what is good and profit­able; that the heart is vitiated by it, and drawn from the love of virtue; that it pol­lutes all the powers of the soul, and gives it an evil tendency in all things. To this passion he contrasts the virtue of temper­ance, which he paints in beautiful colours: he proves to them that it procures infinite advantages; that it is the source of true [Page 36]pleasure, and the parent of real happiness; that it alone gives liberty to the soul, and leisure to indulge in the practice of good morals; that it always preserves the body in health and the mind in tranquillity; that it makes union and prosperity reign in fa­milies; that it procures the esteem and friendship of all worthy people; that it places man in a condition of becoming use­ful to his friends and his country; and that, in short, it renders youth healthful and vi­gorous, and old age pleasant and respecta­ble. He concludes, that we should then be attached to this virtue, love and prac­tise it, and, on the contrary, that we ought to combat the opposite vice with the same zeal and courage with which we attack an unjust enemy, who attempts to rob us of liberty.

Is it not true, observed he at times, that in order to succeed and improve in any science whatever, we must study a long time its principles and rules; learn from the best masters, and be formed in their schools? Could we be so weak as to be­lieve [Page 37]that we must not follow the same plan in acquiring the most useful, great, and no­ble of all professions, that of knowing how to live well? Is it not astonishing to remark, that those who wish to become physicians, or to learn any other science, apply to the best masters respectively, and that the ge­nerality of mankind neglect to have re­course to those masters which they have most occasion for; such as could teach them the rules of life, the principles of good mo­rals, the knowledge of their duties, the science of virtues, and the good qualities of the soul, which alone constitute the dignity and happiness of man?

It is not, still continued he, gold nor silver, which makes some men better or greater than others; it is the precepts of philoso­phy, the lessons of wisdom, that enrich the mind, and put it in possession of the treasures of virtue, which are far prefera­ble to the wealth of worlds.

Socrates took particular care to give his scholars a high idea of the power and good­ness [Page 38]of the gods: you may judge of it by the admirable conversation which he held with Euthydeme, on Providence. Xeno­phon has preserved it for us, and Mr. Rol­lin relates it in his Ancient History.

Have you never reflected, says Socrates to Euthydeme, how the gods have taken care to give mankind all that is necessary? Never, I assure you, replies he. Do you see, returns Socrates, how useful light is to us, and how precious that gift bestowed us by the gods? Indeed, replies Euthy­deme, we should be like blind men without it, and all nature would be lifeless. But because we have need of rest, they have given us night for repose. They have de­creed that the sun, that brilliant and lumi­nous planet, should preside by day, to dis­tinguish the different parts thereof; and that it serve, not only to unfold the won­ders of nature, but to bear life and heat throughout the universe. They have also ordained, that the stars and the moon illu­minate the night, which is in itself obscure and gloomy. Can there be any thing so [Page 39]admirable as this variety, this alternate change of night and day, of light and dark­ness, of labour and rest; and all designed for the good of man?

Socrates, in like manner, related the infi­nite advantages we receive from fire and wa­ter, in supplying the wants of life. Continuing his observations on the wonderful attention of Providence to all that regards us, What say you, enquired he, on perceiving that after winter the sun returns to us; and that as the fruits of one season decay, he ripens those that succeed? that having rendered this service to man, he retires, as it would seem, from an apprehension of incommo­ding us with his heat? Afterwards, when he withdraws to a certain boundary, which he cannot exceed without putting us in danger of perishing with cold, he returns back again, to take up his quarters in that region of the heavens where his presence proves most beneficial to us; and as we cannot suffer excessive cold on heat, should the transition be sudden from one to the other, is it not worthy of admiration, that [Page 40]this luminary approaches and retires from us so slowly that we arrive at either extreme, in a manner almost imperceptible? Would it be possible not to acknowledge, in this regularity of the annual seasons, an over­ruling Providence, not only attentive to our wants, but even to our comforts?

All these circumstances, says Euthydeme, make me doubt whether the gods have heaped such benefits on man only? One point alone staggers my credulity, which is, that inferior animals participate in all the good things of this life as well as we. Yes, replies Socrates, but do you not see that these animals solely exist for the use of man? He subdues the most powerful and unwieldy of them, tames them, and employs them, with the utmost advantage, for war, labour, and other purposes.

What must we think, if we survey man on the scale of being? Here Socrates ex­amined the different senses, by the exercise of which man enjoys all that is noble and excellent in nature; the vivacity of his wit, [Page 41]and the strength of his reason, which raise him infinitely above all other animals; the wonderful gift of speech, by means of which, we mutually communicate our thoughts, publish our laws, and regulate the common­wealth.

From what has been advanced, says So­crates, it is easy to infer the existence of the gods, and that they shelter man under the wings of their protection, though he cannot discover them through the medium of his senses. Do we perceive the thun­der-bolt crush all before it? Do we distin­guish the winds which, before our eyes, make such dreadful ravages? Do we ever see our soul, which is so intimately blended with our existence, which actuates and ani­mates us? Is it not the same with respect to the gods, none of whom become visible in order to distribute their favours. Even the Great God [these words are remark­able], this Great God, I say, who has cre­ated the universe, and who sustains the great work, whose parts are perfected in excellence and beauty; who decreed that [Page 42]they should not grow old with time, but ever flourish in immortal youth; who also ordained, that they obey him with a cele­rity of motion which imagination cannot trace; this God is visible enough in the wondrous works of the creation, of which he is the author; but always invisible as to his person. Let us not then with-hold our belief from what we do not see; but instead of our corporeal eyes, let us use those of the soul; and above all, let us en­deavour to render proper homage to the Divinity, who wishes to be known but by his beneficence. This homage, this wor­ship, consists in pleasing him; and we can­not please him but by performing his will.

After this manner Socrates instructed youth; and such were the principles and sentiments with which he inspired them.

He frequently repeated in his discourses, that the gods watched all our words and actions; pierced the deepest recesses of the soul; were present at our deliberations, and inspired us in all our affairs. Dead or living, [Page 43]said he, the good man is never forgotten by the gods.

Socrates also taught his disciples the mode of preserving health. He held it as a maxim, that man should become acquaint­ed with his own constitution, and with those things which either agree or disa­gree with it; that he should make use of the one and avoid the other, and become his own physician. He particularly recom­mended sobriety to them, advising them carefully to shun those luxurious dishes and agreeable draughts, which only tend to provoke a false appetite, unsolicited by the calls of nature, in the pressing demands of hunger and thirst; and added, that no­thing, so much as excess in eating and drinking, contributes to disorder, all at once, the stomach, the head, and the un­derstanding.

The ardour of the young Athenians, in following his philosophical principles, was incredible. They quitted father and mo­ther, and renounced all parties of pleasure, [Page 44]to adhere to him, and listen to his doctrine. We may judge of it by Alcibiades, one of the most lively and impetuous young men of his time. The means, Socrates used, to check his pride, merits a place here. This young man was boasting one day of the vast riches and property he possessed, when So­crates laid a map before him, and asked him where Greece was situated? The space which this country occupied was too small to be readily discerned: he at length, how­ever, discovered a glimpse of it, and point­ed it out; but on being requested to shew his own territories therein, It is a matter of too little importance, said he, to be set down in so narrow a space. This, then, replied Socrates, an imperceptible point of the globe, is what turns your brain.

The lessons which Socrates gave, made the greater impression, because he him­self practised the virtues which he incul­cated.

The limit of this production do not per­mit me to give his history; I beg leave to [Page 45]refer those who wish to become acquainted with it, to Rollin's Works, or Xenophon's Memoirs.

How were children educated at Rome?

In turning over the pages of Roman his­tory, we have had frequent opportunities of remarking the care taken at Rome in the education of youth; we have observed it particularly in the person of Paulus Emi­lius. This illustrious Roman, who had a perfect knowledge of the art of forming the mind, procured for his children the most eminent masters of the age he lived in. Notwithstanding the important duties of his station, he often assisted at their different exercises, in order to encourage them by his presence. You may recollect that his children strove, by a noble emulation, to fulfil the desires and expectation of so good a father, by their application to study and their progress in the sciences. Their taste for literature was so great, that when he conquered the kingdom of Macedon, they would not deign to bestow a glance on the [Page 46]immense treasures of the king; they were only tempted by a view of the library in his palace, to request it of Pauius Emilius, who granted their desires.

You have also seen how refined was the education of Scipio Africanus; how it ten­ded to form his mind and heart; what ad­vantages he derived from it in the execu­tion of those great enterprizes which he af­terwards undertook; how much it contri­buted to render him famous in war and in peace; to inspire him, not only with poli­tical and military virtues, but even with moral and private. The happy sentiments which he discovered in the historian Poly­bius, attached this great man to him in a particular manner, and powerfully stimula­ted him to acquire that high reputation which has rendered his name immortal.

In Rome, the province of education was not confined to the men only; the women took a part in it, as we may judge from the following passage.

[Page 47] A Roman lady having gone to pay a vi­sit to one of her friends and neighbours, the toilet was the topic of their conversa­tion. The strange lady said a great deal on the subject, and entered into a minute detail of the various jewels she had in her possession, and also of those ornaments which served to embellish the sex. Her friend let her go on, without interruption, until her children, who were at school, came home: when she saw them enter the door, she re­sumed the conversation, and introducing them, said, I have not shewn you my jewels, because I had them not; here they are now, and I may speak to you about them: These children you see are my dia­monds, and the ornaments most dear to my heart: my delight and my glory consist in polishing and adorning their minds, by a solid and virtuous education: the joy I feel in observing their progress in science and virtue, is to me preferable to the possession of the most rare and precious jewels.

What must we infer from the premises, respecting the attention paid to the educa­tion [Page 48]of youth in the various ountrie have mentioned?

We must conclude, that at all times, and in every polished nation, the education of youth was esteemed an essential and indis­pensable duty; and that the ancients were always persuaded that the prosperity of states, the happiness of families, and the public as well as private welfare entirely depended on it. They were ever of opi­nion, that what made a distinction between men, and rendered them truly worthy, did not result from riches, honours, rank, and dignity, but from piety, merit, and virtue.

But these sentiments cannot be firmly established and impressed on the hearts of youth, without the advantages of a culti­vated and virtuous education, pursued with unremitting application; of an education which makes us fill with honour the station to which we are called, the sphere of ac­tion we are destined by Providence to move in; of an education, in short, which brings us early acquainted with the duties we have [Page 49]to practise, and which form the whole eco­nomy of human life; which induces us to love and cherish those duties, by inculca­ting this truth, that we cannot be happy or deserving in the sight of God or man, unless we faithfully discharge them.

You ask me what those duties are, and you desire that I should expound, at least, the fundamental ones, which serve as a basis to all the rest. Nothing more lau­dable than such a desire, and I consider it my duty to gratify it. Reflection and the following particulars will assist you in your pursuit. The duties imposed on man, and which we have to fulfil at all times, in all ages, and in every condition of life, are of three kinds: the first relate to God; the se­cond to society and private life; the third to ourselves, and are personal.

That we have to perform certain duties to God, is an indisputable and generally receive truth.

[Page 50] In fact, if God has created heaven and earth; if he has formed the world out of nothing; if he has made man, and endued him with reason to distinguish between good and evil; if he has moulded him after his own image, by animating him with a soul capable of knowing, loving, serving, and adoring him; if he destines him for immortality; he cannot then leave him to chance in this world: He must therefore have manifested his will; prescribed duties; appointed a mode of worship; and ordained a religion for man to regulate his actions; to put him in constant mind of the author of his existence; and the end of his crea­tion; to give him a sense of his obligations to the Deity; and keep him in a state of persevering submission and dependence on that Great Being.

This religion then is divine, since it has God for its author; it existed at all times, since, by its nature, it can be traced back to the beginning of things: it is also as an­cient as the world: it is practised in all [Page 51]countries, and for all men, since it is the work of the Sovereign Master of the whole world: it is the only true one, as God who founded it is the only true God: it is holy, as it flows from him who is holi­ness itself: it is necessary and indispensable, since its end is to direct us on earth, and make us happy hereafter.

This truth, that religion is absolutely ne­cessary and indispensable, has been acknow­ledged in all ages, and even by the hea­thens themselves. You will find in the course of human affairs, says Plutarch, some cities without walls, without schools, without a king, without a theatre, and without any of the amusements usual in our republics; but you will not find any which do not acknowledge a God, call upon him as a witness, address him in prayer and sa­crifices to obtain some blessings, or avert some calamities: such cities man has never seen, nor ever will. It appears to me more possible to build a town without a foundation and ground to support it, than to establish [Page 52]a government without religion; it is that which sustains, and makes human society flourish; it is the basis and the very sinews of the laws.

This would be a proper place to treat the present subject more fully; to describe to you the different religions; to make you distinguish between those invented by man, and that which has God for its authors; to point out the novelty or recent date of the former, and the antiquity of the latter; and to explain to you, in an ample man­ner, the motives which should determine our choice, and induce us to embrace that only true religion in preference to all others: but as we have already a number of excellent authors on this subject, which you can procure, I must refer you to their works, and request of you to read them with an impartial judgment, and a sincere desire of coming at the truth. If it be the part of candour and rectitude of soul to seek it, and make it the rule of conduct, it should certainly be our province, in a more [Page 53]exalted point of view, where our dearest interest, those of time and eternity, are concerned.

After these reflections on our duties to­wards God, we shall next discuss those we have to perform in society towards mankind and ourselves.

After our duties towards God an reli­gion, what others have we to fulfil?

Those naturally follow which we owe our parents: to know the nature and ex­tent of such duties, it is sufficient to call to mind the obligations we are under to them. The following reflections will serve to pre­sent them to the mind.

We are first indebted to them for our birth; should they have no other claim to our gratitude, the voice of nature cries aloud that we should testify it in the most sensible manner during our lives.

[Page 54] But this favour, however great it may be considered in itself, is nothing, when compared to those for which we are indebt­ed to them since that period.

Were we to trace back the first season of life, and the time which has elapsed since our birth, What were we then capable of, and what cares and anxieties have we not occasioned? Weakness and ignorance were our portion. Destitute of every thing except numerous wants, and unable of our­selves to supply them; deprived of the means of making ourselves understood; possessed of no language but that of tears and cries; incapable of using our limbs; apparently suffering in our helpless situa­tion; and finding no repose but in the arms and on the bosom of our mothers; what anxiety they then endured, what uneasiness, toil, and trouble they underwent?

Among the numerous necessities insepa­rable from our condition, how must it be with those children who seem repugnant to [Page 55]nature, and the general aversion for whom can only be subdued by the love and ten­derness of fond mothers, whose sufferings on this occasion are the more poignant, as they are not limited to a short time, to a few weeks or months, but protracted for whole years; each hour, each moment of the day is not only devoted to misery, but the night, that calm season of repose, is consumed in weeping vigils over their fro­ward offspring, whose ceaseless cries can scarcely be lulled to rest even by the nou­rishment they seem to demand.

What shall we say of the trouble and so­licitude we have occasioned during the lin­gering hours of sickness, to which infancy is so frequently exposed? And really in proportion as our tender limbs expand, as we advance in growth, we appear in more danger of dropping out of existence; for every effort which nature makes in unfold­ing our corporeal faculties, seems as if she would deprive us of the little life which feebly animates us. What uneasiness we give them, when our teeth (the smallest ap­pendages [Page 56]of the body) begin to pierce through the gums, and collect consistence: At this crisis we are reduced to a state of rapid decline and weakness, which awaken every apprehension for our safety. While we were thus suspended between life and death, what could equal the sorrows of our parents, or what lively pencil could have even sketched their feelings? Overwhelmed with grief, bereft of every consolation, they had only power to wring their hands; to raise their dim eyes towards heaven; to im­plore the Divine Assistance; and offer up the most ardent and sincere petitions for our safety.

After having miraculously escaped the numberless dangers which attend our in­fancy, we arrive at an age in which the fa­culties of mind and body demand new vigi­lance, and cares of a more elevated and no­ble nature; I mean those which relate to the soul, to the understanding, and which have for their main object our future edu­cation. What new and infinite obligations we contract at this period with our parents? [Page 57]especially if Providence has given us pa­rents truly worthy of this name: Parents, who, besides supplying us with food, and bestowing that attention we stood in need of in our helpless years, consider these as no more than a small part of their duty, should they neglect to improve our minds with necessary instruction in youth: Pa­rents, who, convinced of our real interest, embrace betimes the means of making us happy: Parents, who, persuaded that all the wealth they may leave their children is, by no means, to be compared to virtue and a good education, have nothing so much at heart as forming their principles: Parents who continually inculcate these im­portant truths, viz. that not all the advan­tages of fortune, person, or figure, an ren­der us truly happy and meritorious, with­out the virtues of the heart and good qualities of the mind: Parents, in fine, who, imitating the example of the Ro­man lady, whom we had occasion to men­tion, look upon their children as their ornament, their pride, and their glory: If, I say, Providence has given us such [Page 58]parents, then we should esteem ourselves happy indeed, and return perpetual bless­ings for our highly favoured condition: it is then we should acknowledge the ex­tent and magnitude of the benefits for which we are indebted to them: it is then they establish the basis and motives of a gratitude which our whole life is not capable of repaying them. This gra­titude, in fact, should arise from the ser­vices they render us: the more noble and generous these services are, the greater and more extensive should be our acknowledg­ments. But as the soul, the reason, and understanding are infinitely superior to the body, it follows, that our gratitude for be­nefits which relate to them, should be as much more eminent, as they are exalted above the body.

And truly our parents, in giving us life, in taking care of our infancy, in supplying us with the necessary food for the main­tenance and preservation of existence, have only acquitted themselves of the duties which are common to all parents respecting [Page 59]their children; but by ministering to our reason and judgment the proper food of the mind; by presenting us with the means of instruction; by laying within our hearts, foundations which only can support the edi­fice, and cement the happiness of our lives, I mean the valuable advantages of a solid and virtuous education, they gain an ascendancy over our feelings, and claim a right to our acknowledgments, which, under such cir­cumstances, we cannot with-hold; a right as just and indisputable, as the motives upon which it is founded are pure and unchangeable. The care they take to cul­tivate our understanding, and form our rea­son, is a kind of second birth, for which we are infinitely more indebted than for the first.

It is evident then, from every reason which we are about to explain, that we are under great obligations to our parents, and that we have certain duties towards them to fulfil. Before we enter into a detail of these duties, in order to give them more efficacy, it is expedient to treat on the power of parents over their children, [Page 60]and point out the foundation and extent of their authority, with respect to us. Let us begin by consulting the historic page, and see if at all times, and in all governments, the same ideas have been conceived on this subject.

The Lacedemonians, we have observed, gave, according to their laws, the greatest authority to parents, not only over their own children, but, in general, over all others whatsoever; so that, in this repub­lic, the children were under the jurisdic­tion of all fathers, who had the privilege of reproving, correcting, and chastising them, without making any complaint to their real parents.

We read in Persian history, that fathers had the power of life and death over their children. At Rome, the law granted them the same right; and also that of selling and disposing of them as they judged proper.

If in our modern governments, the laws do not grant such an unlimited authority to [Page 61]parents, it is not therefore to be imagined that they aim at diminishing a tittle of that authority which is proper and essential to them. They are granted such sufficient powers and privileges as intitle them to in­struct, to command, to reprove and correct us by every means which they may deem fit and necessary. Such an authority justly belongs to them: nothing can deprive them of it, or prevail on them to give it up: they hold it from God, who has entrusted them with it, and ordained that they should exercise it over us. Hence it follows, that the duty of children towards their parents is, to love, honour, and obey them; to shew them, on all occasions, every mark of submission and respect; to repay their cares; to testify to them their gratitude; to assist, succour, and procure them every comfort and consolation in their power.

The duty of respect towards parents is not only imposed on us by man, but God himself hands it down to us as an absolute command; so that we cannot fail therein without offending, at the same time, against [Page 62]both divine and human laws. If we open the Scriptures, we shall there see that of all the precepts which God has laid down for man, there is none so particularly re­commended to him as filial duty; nor is there any of such importance if attended to, nor of such fatal consequences if neglect­ed. It is the only one to the observance of which even temporal happiness is an­nexed: Honour your father and mother, de­clares he, that your days may be long in the land; so that a long and happy life is pro­mised us, as the fruit and reward of the honour and respect rendered our parents. The same principle generally prevails in the Holy Scripture: this duty, throughout that sacred volume, is enjoined us, and abso­lutely commanded: we every where ob­serve there the most copious blessings pro­mised to children who are dutiful, and the most dreadful curses pronounced against those who are disobedient to their parents. Even in this life we often see these male­dictions fall on the guilty head, for we sel­dom observe youth thrive or prosper, who have given sorrow and affliction to their pa­rents [Page 63]by a spirit of obstinacy, want of sub­ordination, and indocility. It is com­monly remarked, that this froward disposi­tion is a source of bitterness and misfortune which make them unhappy during their lives, unhappy in their marriages, unhap­py in their wives, unhappy in their hus­bands, and particularly unhappy in their children, who pursue, with respect to them, the same line of conduct which they pur­sued by former perverseness and irreverence to their parents; and who also, like them, are untractable, disobedient, undutiful, un­grateful, enemies to labour and application, and addicted to the company of libertines and spendthrifts.

To be convinced of the truth of the subject we here treat on, let us reflect on the manner we may be disposed, when we enter the habitation of a family.— What ideas do we naturally conceive on the occasion, and what objects occupy our attention? We first cast a glance on the parents and children; examine their situ­ation; see if order and duty are observed [Page 64]by them; if the father and mother are in possession of that authority which be­longs to them; if they are respected, be­loved, and obeyed; if the children keep within the bounds prescribed them; if they keep their conduct equally remote from ser­vile fear, and that freedom which degene­rates into licentiousness; if they preserve a demeanour which at once declares both re­spect and filial love; if, in the whole tenor of their behaviour they are influenced by duty, and dread nothing so much as giving them the least cause of umbrage or dis­pleasure; if they establish the empire of or­der, peace, harmony, and reciprocal love; if they shew good example, excite an emu­lation to labour, and the study of virtue; if they pursue the paths of decency, ho­nesty, and rectitude of manners, which are the effects of a good education; if all this is presented to my view, the delightful scene awakens my sensibility, flatters my finest feelings, and charms the purest sen­sations of my soul; I enjoy it with secret satisfaction, and dwell on it with ineffable delight. Retiring with the utmost esteem [Page 65]and respect for this family, I offer up the most favourable orisons for its wel­fare, and earnestly pray that the blessing of heaven may descend on each individual belonging to it.

If, on the contrary, the reverse of the above, unhappily meets my view; if the pa­rents are without authority; if the children have thrown off obedience, and disregard the parental voice; if each wishes to be­come his own master, and follow the dic­tates of his own will and caprice; if peace, union, and friendship do not reign among them; if the voice of discord and anarchy is only heard in the house; if they become inattentive to the admonitions they receive; if they manifest an aversion to study, em­ployment, and application; if they have no taste but for pleasure and dissipation; if they take no pains to reform their lives and mend their manners; if, I say, such a scene strikes my view, it instantly disgusts me; I find myself in a situation that wounds my feelings, and I hasten to quit a house in [Page 66]which I see nothing but the gloomy reign of disorder and distraction.

All concur to establish the noble and great precept of respect and obedience to parents: there is no difference on this sub­ject between one nation and another, or between the polished and savage; all men have the same ideas on this head; it is na­ture that speaks to the human heart; and if we find some individuals who refuse to listen to, and acknowledge her voice, they are monsters in human shape.

Having spoken of the duties we owe our parents, we may proceed to examine those of brothers and sisters, to one ano­ther.—We may recollect here, that So­crates had been accustomed to compare brothers and sisters to the twin members of the human body; that is to say, to the eyes, to the hands, and to the feet. This comparison is well adapted to the subject under discussion, and gives us a just and natural idea of the manner in which the [Page 67]children of a well-regulated family should conduct themselves to one another. The meaning of Socrates is clearly expressed by this comparison. He gives us to un­derstand, that the same harmony, depend­ence, and agreement which nature has established between our members, should subsist between brothers and sisters; as we cannot conceive a greater union than that of the hands or the feet; so nature, religion, and reason also combine to impose on bro­thers and sisters the duty of a strict, sincere, and indissoluble union. As there is but one master or head in a family to direct and conduct it, so in like manner the members of our body are subject to one and the same head to regulate and govern the whole: they should, therefore, like the hands and feet, have but one and the same inclina­tion, concord, object, and manner of acting.

Friendship as pure, as unchangeable as the ties of kindred which bind them to one another, should reign amongst them. Look around, and you may observe this union kept up throughout all nature. If we are [Page 68]naturally disposed to form connections with persons with whom perchance we have passed our juvenile days; if the recollec­tion of them presents to our minds some pleasing ideas; and we are overjoyed and transported at seeing them, when oppor­tunity offers; How much more fond and endearing must be the connection between brothers and sisters! Children of the same parents; reared on the same bosom; fed at the same table; and lodged under the same roof: they have passed their happiest days together, the days of innocence and simpli­city: the first office of their tender limbs was to embrace one another: they commu­nicated their dawning sentiments of joy and friendship at an early season: they passed entire days in sports and pastimes suitable to their age: they mutually felt the same pleasure, pain, joy, and melancholy: their sorrows were diminished from the consola­tion they administered to one another, and their joys increased from the satisfaction they felt in sharing them: they had the same friends and the same enemies: they united with the former, and defended them­selves [Page 69]against the latter, to whom their union rendered them formidable. They have been educated in the same principles, in the same religion, in the same precepts, in the same schools, and under the same masters.

What more powerful motives could com­bine to establish a solid and permanent union among mankind! From this friendship, which should subsist between brothers and sisters, naturally proceed other duties; for instance, they should support and assist one another by their reciprocal kind offices and good counsel, with candour, charity, and tenderness. This conduct will at once en­sure them success, and strengthen their powers. The following relation proves the justness of the assertion. "A king, at the point of death, sent for his children, who were very numerous: he presented to them, in turn, a bundle of small sticks, desiring each to break them all together: it was at­tempted by every one of them individually, but could not be done. The father took the bundle in his hand, untied it, and ea­sily [Page 70]broke the sticks one by one. He then embraced the opportunity of telling them their situation might be compared to the bundle of sticks: while they were united they would be strong and invincible; but the moment they were disunited, they would become feeble, and the mere butt of their enemies."

In fact, there is nothing equal to unani­mity, and a good understanding between brothers and sisters. By that bond, one of them acts with the vigour of all; for if there be two or seven united, each of them is no more than one individual; and in these seven you will find but one, and in one you will find seven. Should one be in need of assistance, he is not therefore in distress; he is powerful in the greater par­ty, namely, the six others; and the party that falls, is instantly supported, the weaker by the stronger. Each of them sees, not only with his own eyes, but even with those of others; he not only walks on his own feet, but also on those of others; he not only works with his own hands, but [Page 71]with those of others; he is not alone the guardian of his own affairs, others also at­tend to them. It is thus that union cements society, and that one individual becomes many.

Such is the beauty of this virtue, that it renders happy and prosperous those fami­lies which possess it; and that it contributes infinitely more to their felicity than their wealth and riches. Wherever it exists, there is order, peace, and harmony; where it is not, there is trouble, confusion, and disorder. The essential duty of brothers and sisters is, to establish union and frater­nal happiness among themselves, and care­fully to avoid every thing that may disturb or overturn them. In a family, every mem­ber should consider himself as a part of the whole, to which he belongs; and the beau­ty and strength of the whole essentially consist in the union and agreement of the parts which compose it, and which should all tend to the same purpose, that of peace, utility, and public prosperity.

[Page 72] One of the most effectual means to pre­serve this union, is to suppress, in time, dis­putes, controversy, and bickering in a fa­mily, which, from trifles in the beginning, might end badly, and terminate even in open and scandalous ruptures. We should recollect that as great rivers flow from small sources, in like manner mighty affairs arise from trivial causes. If these strifes and di­visions which are raised in certain families, and which appear to have been always a wall of separation between them, be traced back to their first origin, we should be justly astonished to see such weak motives produce such dire effects. As those diseases of the body which communicate, and gradually approach its neighbouring parts, attack and corrupt them, are the most danger­ous, and instantly demand the assistance of the physician, in order to preserve the sound members; so, in like manner, when any offence is given, or misunderstanding takes place between families, they should suppress it in time, by checking its pro­gress, and stifling it in its birth, to prevent [Page 73]the evil from increasing, and to preserve the union of the whole.

What we advance here concerning bro­thers and sisters, may be equally applied to others, as we shall find it to be the case, in pointing out the duties we are obliged to perform as members of society, and accord­ing to the custom of the world. These du­ties are comprised in two plain precepts, which are the foundation and summary of all morality: Do unto others as you would they should do unto you; and Do not unto them what you would not they should do unto you. These two maxims, well considered, give us an idea and knowledge of the obligations we have to fulfil in the commerce of civil life. One is in the affirmative, and com­mands; the other is negative, and forbids. By the first, we are enjoined to do unto others what we would they should do unto us; that is to say, we should procure for others every good which we wish they should render us; treat them as we de­sire they should treat us; act on the same [Page 74]principles towards them, as we expect they should act to us; and have the same regards, cares, officiousness, and attentions for them, which we require they should have for us. By the second, we are forbid to do to others what we would not they should do unto us; that is to say, by putting ourselves in the situation of others, and judging of them by ourselves, we should avoid doing them any injury which we would not have done to ourselves; or committing the same offences, and doing the same wrongs to them, which we would not wish them to do unto us. These principles are certain, simple, and na­tural; they are the foundation and cement of all human society; they should then be a rule of conduct to govern us in our in­tercourse with mankind in general, and par­ticularly those with whom we live and have the most intimate connection.

Before we proceed further in the expla­nation of these precepts, it would be pro­per to examine here the nature of society, and what is signified by the term.

[Page 75] Society is an union of many individuals, who preserve their existence by the mutual assistance they lend one another, and the connections which unite them together. God, the great author of our nature, having formed it in such a manner, that it is insuffici­ent in itself, or in a solitary state, he has or­dained, that it should be supported by other aid. He has so wisely disposed all things, that the mutual helps derived from society make ample amends for all our wants and insufficiency. He has therefore given us this one world solely for our habitation: he has created one sun to give light to the world: he has extended the heavens as one spacious canopy to cover us. Wherefore do we build cities, houses, and public squares, but to be united together, not only by the same habitation, but still more by the ties of fra­ternity, and like the constituent parts of one and the same body. The moral is justly assimilated to the natural body of each individual, which is composed of many members that aid and support one ano­ther, by the faithful discharge of that duty which Providence has assigned to [Page 76]each: the feet sustain; the hands act; the eyes see; the ears hear; and so on. Let us now suppose that these different mem­bers deny the services which nature re­quires; that the feet remain in a state of inaction; the hands without motion; the teeth without discharging their function; What would be the consequence of such disorder, if not certain death and a total destruction of these different parts? Thus it would be with the body of society, if all the individuals, who are its members, should refuse their reciprocal aid, and interrupt the mutual communication. They would remain in a state of torpor and inaction. Such a derangement would necessarily oc­casion the dissolution of the whole body. As edifices are built with stones fastened by the cement which unites them; and as the moment a chasm is made by the failure of the stones, the whole structure tum­bles into ruins; in like manner, the pre­servation of the human species entirely de­pends on the union, agreement, and assem­blage of the parts. Without union and good order, no government can be well ad­ministered, [Page 77]no city can be well governed, no houses well arranged, and no family well reguated. The spirit of union and peace is then the first duty imposed on us in society. This spirit is the more necessary to us, as our interests are connected with those of the public, and so blended with them, that when these are injured, ours suffer in the same proportion; so that our private advantages and welfare oblige us to be peaceable, humane, gentle, patient, gene­rous, moderate, friendly, just, benevolent, and, in short, to possess every quality which contributes to good order, and maintains the union of society; that is to say, we ought to do unto others as we would they should do unto us; and we ought not to do unto others what we do not wish they should do unto us.

From these general principles, we now enter into a detail, which will render these truths more obvious, and give us a more particular and practical knowledge of the duties which we have to perform to others. Let us begin by acknowledging here what [Page 78]is unhappily too true, that we all have our foibles. Of these, humanity, in its nearest approaches to perfection, is by no means divested. The great and low, the rich and poor, the young and old, have, all, their imperfections. Notwithstanding any en­comiums that may be bestowed on us; any adulation we may swallow; any pre­possessions we may have concerning our pretended merit; and the favourable opi­nion we may entertain in our own behalf; notwithstanding all these we really have vices and imperfections. Perhaps we may not be thoroughly acquainted with them; we may not perceive them, as they really are, because self-love and pride, of which we have an abundant stock, prevent us from knowing ourselves. But those with whom we have connections in the commerce of life, and with whom we live, are perfect judges of our foibles, errors, and evil pro­pensities.

Suppose that we have all to reproach ourselves with certain faults and imperfec­tions; that we are subject to some passion, [Page 79]either of pride or anger, envy or fa slander, calumny, or any other imperfection whatever: What follows, and what thence should we conclude for our conduct in life? It follows thence that human indulgence has every right to make an allowance for human failings: We should all mutually assist, par­don, and excuse one another. The glimmer­ings of reason are sufficient to convince us of the necessity of this rule. There is nothing indeed more natural than to believe we should be treated as we treat others. If we judge without mercy, we will be judged with se­verity: if we make the faults of others the subject of our censures, they will not spare us in their animadversions: if we are not in­clined to render them any kindnesses, they will be ill disposed to show any to us: if we are bitter to them, can we expect they will be pleasant to us? The spirit of sweetness, moderation, prudence, discretion, charity, patience, goodness, and humanity, is neces­sarily the spirit which should actuate us in society; we must therefore make it our busi­ness to acquire it.

[Page 80] Nothing can contribute to inspire us with this spirit so much, as the knowledge of the human heart, and especially that of our own. Because when we perceive in others those errors, of which we can trace the source in ourselves, we should therefore feel disposed to grant them that indulgence which we, on our part, require, and thereby conduct our­selves towards them with a sweet, affable, gentle, modest, and social temper.

As this knowledge of the human heart is the consequence of reflection and experi­ence, of which youth is not capable, it is of some moment to assist you here in a pur­suit so necessary in the course of life. You will ask perhaps, Is every one unacquaint­ed with himself? Have we occasion to study the knowledge of ourselves? You believe not; but you are mistaken; for the propo­sition is exactly true, that the generality of mankind to not know themselves. In fact, there are few who direct their attention in­wardly, who study themselves, who examine their inclinations, characters, feelings, and passions of the heart, which are the chief [Page 81]rulers of their actions and their entire con­duct. We have eyes to see what passes abroad, and seldom consider what passes within us. Hence it has been wittily remark­ed by a certain philosopher, that we carry a sack on our shoulders, in which are con­tained our own faults, and those of others: the latter are in that part of the sack which is exposed to view; the former are behind, and concealed in such a manner that we cannot perceive them.

Self-love, which domineers over us, con­ceals from us the secret avenues to the soul; makes us blind to our own failings; and pre­vents us from seeing ourselves as we are, or discovering the faults which are really existing in us. It is sometimes carried to such an extreme, and gives the mind such a bias, that some of our passions, which are really vicious, and deemed so by all those who know us intimately, derive the name of virtues from ourselves.

Interrogate the avaricious man on the sub­ject of avarice: ask him what he thinks of [Page 82]the passion which renders him insensible to every pleasure, but that of accumulating riches; which makes him gather wealth, not to use, but solely to hoard up in his coffers, and bury in the earth; which com­pels him to deprive himself of common ne­cessaries, through a fear of touching his mo­ney; and which renders him callous and in­sensible to the miseries of others: question him on this passion, which debases and de­grades him, and you will perceive that he is very remote from knowing himself; that he considers himself a prudent and wise eco­nomist, who provides for future wants.

Interrogate the prodigal, who ruins him­self and family by silly, thoughtless, and ex­travagant expences, and you will be sur­prised to find that he aggrandizes his pas­sion with the elevated names of generosity, liberality, and greatness of soul.

Interrogate the choleric and passionate man, who, in the height of his phrenzy, spares neither women, children, relations, nor friends, and he will tell you that in him [Page 83]it is the overflowing of a soul fraught with candour, courage, and firmness.

Interrogate the rich man, who affects haughty, proud, disdainful, and arrogant manners, and you will find that he imagines these manners correspond with his rank, fortune, and consequence; and that they give him an air of grandeur in the eyes of the world.

Interrogate a young lady upon her im­modest behaviour; her desire of pleasing, by studied and affected cares; by the finery of her toilet, where the rules of decency and virtue are laid aside; and by proceedings and conduct which breathe too much free­dom and licentiousness: she will tell you, that it is thus they live in the world; that what is fashionable cannot seem offensive; and, fi­nally, that too much reason and wisdom are not adapted to her years, which prove the season of pleasure. If you mention that the world speaks of her; that her charac­ter suffers; that modesty, decency, and vir­tue are the ornaments of the sex; and that [Page 84]she only becomes respectable by the practice of these virtues; your arguments will make little impression on her; she will continue her course of life; and perhaps prepare to travel the thorny road of affliction, which she might have avoided, had she followed your counsels.

Continue to examine this same young person on her different defects; for instance, on her aversion for study and application. Tell her frequently that nothing is more necessary than to form in youth her taste for every thing useful, good, great, honour­able, and generous; that the happiness or misery of human life absolutely depends on the manner in which we have spent our youth. Tell her that nothing can be com­pared to the advantages which a solid and well-supported education procures; that it tends at once to form the heart and judgment; that it enriches the understand­ing, and furnishes us with useful and agree­able information, which remains with us during life, and accompanies us through every vicissitude; that it is the ornament of [Page 85]youth and the consolation of age, and equally advantageous to us in society or so­litude: in society, by placing us in a situa­tion of conversing with well informed men, and vendering our mutual intercourse more pleasant: in solitude, because it teaches us, with the instructive aid of books, to live alone. Tell her that reading essentially contributes to soften our manners, and give us a sweet, gentle, polished turn of beha­viour, which endears us to society; that there is no better companion than a good book, which conveys the language of truth, makes u acquainted with our imperfec­tions and lays down rules of conduct and good morals. Represent all these to the young person of whom we speak; examine her situation; enquire into he cause of her indifference to those objects so worthy of fixing her attention; and you will discover that the source of evil is derived from her ignorance of herself, because she does not judge of herself from the truths which you dictate to her, but rather from the false­hoods of some soul-deceiving flatterer who insinuates, and incessantly repeats to her, [Page 86]that she is beautiful and amiable; that she is, in an eminent degree, possessed of wit, talents, and graces, and surpasses in charms every female of her age. She swallows this gross adulation; betrays herself into an idea of virtues she has not; grows con­firmed in the vices she has; and thus com­mences the career of her future misfortunes.

Judge yourself, and you will agree to the truth of these remarks. Though they were not presented to your mind before the present times, they will become more intel­ligible to you as you advance in years and experience.

In order to facilitate the means of your becoming acquainted with yourself, it re­mains for me to give you a few remarks relative to the reasons, why the bulk of mankind do not know themselves.

By reflecting a moment on the cause of such an effect, we shall perceive that it de­rives its source from that inexhaustible fund of self-love which we feel within us; from [Page 87]the interior disposition, by whi admire, and applaud ourselves; and from the favourable opinion we entertain of every thing relating to self, which induces us to prefer ourselves to others; to exaggerate our virtues in our own eyes; and to conceal our imperfections and vices.

As youth is the time in which the mind is most subject to be led astray, it is also the season in which self-love rules with most despotic power, and consequently the period in life in which we are least ac­quainted with ourselves. It is this self-love, with which a young person is prepossessed, that makes her conceive so high an opinion of herself, and her pretended merit; and of certain personal advantages, merely ex­terior, which nature has given her. It is this self-love which so strangely betrays her into the opinion she fosters on the subject of her beauty. It is this which makes her pre­fer trifles to solid and real virtues: which puts it into her head, that superficial orna­ment should be substituted for every thing else, and take place of all other qualities. [Page 88]She imagines, because she is handsome, that she has no occasion to be modest, reserved, diligent, and devoted to the cares of a good education; but that she may, with impu­nity, be dissipated, indiscreet, fickle, coquet­tish, trifling, immodest, and extravagant. It is this self-love which renders her so stu­dious in the arts of pleasing; attentive to the charms of her person; and regardless of the beauties of her mind. A prudent and experienced mother, a wise and virtuous friend, strive in vain to expostulate with her, and explain her duties: in vain they tell her what renders a young person amia­ble and deserving; not exterior advantages, nor the graces of form and person, but in­terior qualities, those of the heart and un­derstanding; sweet, open, innocent, and natural manners. In vain they endeavour to give her a taste for study, application, and useful employments. Regardless of this doctrine, she wholly abandons herself to the suggestions of self-love, and to the poisonous discourses of some youth, who preaches up contrary tenets; who studies to please her, by telling agreeable things; [Page 89]and who feeds her fancy with a thousand chimeras equally false and pernicious. It is thus that self-love misleads her; deprives her of the knowledge of her imperfections; and prevents her from embracing the means of correcting them. It would not be a diffi­cult task to prove that it produces the same effects in a more advanced age, and that mankind in general are, in a great degree, possessed of it.

From what has been premised, follows this truth, that the knowledge of ourselves is of the highest importance to us, in order that we should set about the work of re­form and regulation of our conduct and mo­rals. In fact, it is with the maladies of the soul as with those of the body. Why is a physician called to a sick person, and how does he begin to exercise his art? His first care is to study the disease which he wishes to conquer; to discover the origin, cause, and progress of it; afterwards, by means of this preliminary information, he applies those remedies which he deems fit and ne­cessary. This mode of treatment is much [Page 90]the same as that which we should observe with respect to the distempered soul, whose maladies are the vices and passions which govern us inwardly; beset the understand­ing; and hold it in a sort of captivity and infirmity. Now, I say, if we wish to un­dertake their cure, the first thing we have to do is, to discover the nature of them. But how shall we come at this knowledge? By examining what passes within us; by study­ing the propensities, inclinations, and dispositions of the heart; by judging ourselves without the partiality and illusions of self-love; by erecting a tribunal within, to de­termine on all our actions; by finding out, in particular, our ruling passion, or the chief and main spring of all the rest. When once we have made this investigation, and come to the knowledge of ourselves, it will be easy to make use of them towards the re­gulation of our conduct, and correct what we find imperfect, defective, and vicious in ourselves.

This study of ourselves has been judged so necessary in all ages, that the only in­scription [Page 91]to be met with in one of the most famous temples of Greece was this; Know thyself: Nosce te ipsum. It would be end­less to enumerate all the advantages this knowledge procures, and the influence in has on the happiness of our lives.

Among these advantages, there is one I shall observe to you here, and which de­mands, on your part, a particular attention. It is, that the knowledge of ourselves con­tributes essentially to that of others: it ren­ders us capable of judging their actions, and valuing them according to their worth. In fact, we have all nearly the same incli­nations, and the same mixture of good and evil. The different good and bad qualities are modified more or less in every indivi­dual, according to circumstances; but the feelings, the recesses of the heart are the same; so that the knowledge of our own passions summarily represents to us those of others, and makes us capable of judging them. Observe that I do not speak here of a certain description of men, who seem born for the commission of crimes, and are [Page 92]a scandal and disgrace to humanity. Such beings are monsters in nature; and it is not by monsters that we are to judge of a whole species.

I repeat to you, that the subject which is here offered to you, namely, the know­ledge of mankind, merits your attention; and the observations you are about to re­ceive, may be of great utility in the prac­tice of life; in forming your judgment; enabling you to distinguish real merit from appearances; and giving you a just idea of virtue.

Let us begin by advancing, that we are not to consider man in the same point of view we do a picture. The beauty of the latter, the proportion, the judicious blend­ing of light and shade, are almost discover­ed at the first glance: We should be grossly mistaken to judge thus of man, on our first interview. It is the heart we must sound and fathom; but the bottom of it we sel­dom can reach on our first attempt.

[Page 93] We may consider man here in a twofold capacity: in one, as confined to private life, in the company of his wife, children, and domestics: in the other, as mingling with society, for business, for pleasure, [...] ful­filling the exterior obligations of his office, or discharging the duties of decorum. The premises being admitted, in order to come to a knowledge of him, in which of these two conditions is he to be examined? Is it in the latter, that is to say, when he ap­pears in public? No—not at all: That is not the proper time for forming an idea of his character. Why so? Because it often happens, that we only then see his exterior or outside. He is, as it were, out of his sphere, and so little like himself, that if you compare him in these two situations, you will rather suppose that there are two distinct individuals in question, than one and the same man placed in different points of view. Let us explain our meaning, and endeavour to render this truth obvious. Man, when exposed to the public eye, puts on the ap­pearance of virtues he does not possess. He studies his manners, frames his dis­course, [Page 94]culls his words, and acts in such a manner as to give his whole exterior an air of virtue: he practises every art on him­self: he masks and conceals his real cha­racter: she imposes silence on his passions; affects a countenance which prepossesses, and disposes the mind to judge favour­ably of him: so that if you examine him only in this point of view, and without going further, you cannot help forming of man in general, the most advantageous ideas. You will confound, in your own opinion, the good man with the wicked, because both speak the same language, that of virtue; both express the same sentiments of piety, gentleness goodness, benevolence, humanity, justice, modesty, temperance, and love of the public good; and both resemble each other in words. No comparison, how­ever, can be made between them; and the distance which separates them is as im­mense as that between heaven and earth; because the one acts the hypocrite, and plays a part which is not his own; the other acts naturally and from principle, and proves that his exterior corresponds with [Page 95]his interior, by the agreement of his and sentiments. But this difference, how­ever great, will not become sensible to you, if you consider them only under certain cir­cumstances, and by their discourse; as in reality all men are nearly similar to each other in these particulars. But in what are they unlike each other, and in what do they essentially differ? In their actions, their conduct, and their morals.

It is only in this point of view we should judge of a man, in order to know him, and estimate his real merit. Hence we have but to examine him, when he is restored to himself, and moves in his natural sphere; for instance, when he is at home, in his house, in the centre of his family, conver­sing, eating, and drinking with his wife and children, and ordering his domestics. It is there, as Plato remarks, that he acts either well or ill: it is there the mask falls off, the heart and inclinations appear without disguise, and the man as he really is. Why so? you will say. Because a man, when at [Page 96]home, has nothing to check, restrain him, or alter the features of his character. He practises every art in the presence of stran­gers; but that restraint ceases in the so­ciety of those with whom he resides, and who are accustomed to see him, to hear him, and observe his daily actions.

This method of proceeding, in order to become acquainted with the human heart, is the result of reason and experience, which point it out as the one most certain, and least subject to error. Yet it is not the mode which is commonly followed. The generality of mankind judge from exterior, deceitful, and false appearances. Prepos­sessed as we are in favour of honour and riches, we are naturally disposed to con­ceive advantageous ideas of those who en­joy them. We are apt to believe that a man's merit is in proportion to his fortune; and that the opulent have claims to our esteem, to which the lower orders have no pretensions. When your mind takes such a wrong bias it concerns you to be unde­ceived, [Page 97]and to acquire just ideas of the in­trinsic value of things. A little reflection is sufficient for this purpose.

Is it not truly astonishing, that in the esti­mation of men we follow a course quite dif­ferent from that which serves as a standard, by which we value all other things existing in nature, and that man is the only being we judge of from false principles? When we have occasion to buy any thing for our own use, what qualities do we require in the sort we want? Are these qualities merely exterior? Do we consider interior excellence as nothing? If, for example, we have oc­casion for a horse, how do we proceed in our choice? Do we examine only the finery of the bridle, saddle, and trappings? On the contrary, do we not strip him of all these, in order to see him naked, and such as he really is? Do we not make trial of him? Do we not observe his gait in walk­ing, trotting, pacing, &c. in order to be assured of his qualities, and to find out those which constitute a good horse? Take a view of every object which occurs in the [Page 98]commerce of life, and you may observe, that we constantly pursue this mode of pro­ceeding which is dictated by the most com­mon sentiments of wisdom, prudence, and good sense. We never say that a sword is good, because it has a fine scabbard; nor that a house is solid, because it has a hand­some outside. We do not buy, as they say, a pig in a bag. Why do we not fol­low the same rule with respect to man? He is rich, you say; he is powerful; he has high birth and dignity. Agreed: but all these do not constitute himself: they are merely exterior. In order to know him, I should strip him of all these; examine himself only, and such as he is, exclusive of all that surrounds him, his pomp and titles. I shall therefore consider if he possesses the virtues of his condition; if he fulfils the duties of his station; if he fills it with ho­nour and intregity; if he is a good hus­band, a good father, a good friend; if prosperity does not render him proud and insolent; adversity, creeping and servile; if he is religious, good, friendly, modest, pru­dent, patient, and moderate. If he has, in [Page 99]short, the qualities of a meritorious man. If I find that his soul is endued with these virtues, he is then in possession of real riches; riches which are preferable to the world's wealth. If, on the contrary, I per­ceive in him a soul plunged in vice, and de­based with passions, low sentiments, and a continual opposition to the principles of vir­tue, goodness, justice, and moderation, then he appears to me poor indeed, and truly contemptible, if he had all the opulence, grandeur, and treasures of Croesus.

Were I to speak of the conduct of a fe­male, I would canvass it in the same manner. I do not ask if she is fond of appearing in society and in polite circles; of shewing away in public; of displaying her pomp, luxury, and expence; if the cares of the toilet take up a part of her time; or, if she is rich in jewels and exterior ornaments? I do not ask these things, nor any other ques­tion of this nature. I only enquire if she has the virtues of her condition? If, sin­cerely attached to her husband, she limits all her desires to please him? If, attentive [Page 100]to the employments which nature assigned her, she orders and governs her domestic affairs, at the same time that she attends to those abroad? If, in her family, she has an eye to every thing becoming her sex, and acts in such a manner as to produce order, union and prosperity, and that the different members which constitute it, perform their respective duties, and contribute to the har­mony and beauty of the whole? If, confi­ned within the domestic circle, she knows how to inspire her children with awe, re­verence, and filial live? If she devotes her most precious moments to the care of their education? If she considers this care as the first and most indispensable of all duties? If she makes her happiness, glory, and highest consolation consist in these? These are the points upon which I should examine her; these her obligations, and the virtues which form the merit of her character.

I shall treat a young lady in the same manner. I shall not consider if she is hand­some, or in what degree she possesses the charms of person; if she is a coquette, and [Page 101]only employed in the vanity of dress, and the arts of pleasing; or, if she attends every assembly and party of pleasure? but I shall consider, if she has qualities becoming her years; if she receives a good education; if she profits thereby; and, if chastity, mo­desty, evenness of temper, solid understand­ing, reflection, and application fall to her lot?

Such is the rule which leads me to the knowledge of any person whatever, high or low, rich or poor, young or old. I will judge and value him according to his pecu­liar and personal qualities, and not by ap­parent and supposed virtues. I shall there­fore examine, if he properly discharges the duties of his station; the obligations which relate to his age, situation, talents, and rank; for in this line of conduct consists the dig­nity of man. It constitutes his merit; dis­tinguishes him from others; and renders him truly estimable. And what is virtue, but the accomplishment of the duties of that state in which Providence has placed us.

[Page 102] What follows from these observations, and what conclusions should you draw from them for your conduct in life? You should infer, that since they are the only virtues that can render us praise-worthy, you should, in your judgment, give them the preference to all other advantages. You should endeavour to acquire and practise them; and not to be content with their ap­pearance, but really to possess them; not to pass for a virtuous character, but to be truly so; and, finally, to become thoroughly acquainted with your obligations, and faith­fully discharge them.

You are sensible that this article treats of the third class of duties which we have to perform here below, those which regard ourselves, and are personal. God grant that I may here inspire you with those du­ties, impress them on your minds, and deeply grave them on your hearts. That you may benefit thereby, I shall endeavour to give you a just idea of virtue; and after you have been convinced that it is the only quality which renders us truly worthy, I [Page 103]will also prove to you, that it is the only one that makes us happy even here on earth.

I flatter myself that you will be convin­ced of it, if you will favour me with your attention. What motive more powerful to attach you to your duties, than that of your own interest and happiness. The genera­lity of children consider them as a hard and painful task. The very name of virtue fills their minds with gloomy and unpleasant ideas: they suppose it to be a nauseous and bitter draught, made up of a medley of in­gredients. As the conduct and government of life almost entirely depend on first im­pressions, and the sentiments formed in youth, it is of the highest importance to re­move the prejudices you may have conceived on the subject of virtue, to bring you ac­quainted with it, and to convince you that far from being bitter or unpleasant, it is, on the contrary, the source of true felicity, the parent of solid pleasures, and the road which leads us to true enjoyments, to peace and tranquillity of mind and heart. Follow me, I intreat you.

[Page 104] We all wish to be happy: it is the first desire of every reasonable creature: it is the common ambition of all men: it is the end of their labours, and the main object of their pursuits. Yes: Mankind sigh after what they call happiness, and strive to ob­tain it. But do they discover this happi­ness they are in quest of, and do they all equally enjoy it? By no means. And why not? Because few seek it where it is; but many pursue it where it is not. Some indeed imagine that it solely consists in the possession of wealth, and use every means to obtain riches. Some placing it in the pleasure of the senses, give themselves up entirely to the gratification of their pas­sions. Others, in fine, persuaded that vir­tue alone can make them happy, are en­tirely devoted to it, and make it the rule of their conduct. I now ask you, Which are they who appear to you the most wise and prudent in their pursuits? Are they those votaries of fortune, or these slaves of their pleasures and passions? Not at all; they are neither the one nor the other, though you might have supposed so some­times. [Page 105]But it is time to undeceiv give you some just conceptions of these mat­ters.

And first, I must remark, that riches can­not of themselves constitute real happiness. In fact, whatever prepossessions we may have for wealth and honours, they are, notwithstanding, no more than a vapour that vanishes, a mere shadow, that attracts but to mock us in its sudden flight. Riches are not centred in us; neither are they the whole, nor a part of us. They are outward appendages, merely accidental to us. We may be men of integrity and virtue with­out possessing them. Wealth may fall to the lot of the wicked; and too frequently they purchase it at a dear price, the price of in­nocence and probity. It cannot communi­cate to us those qualities which alone are essential to man, I mean, piety, justice, pru­dence, goodness, &c. These virtues are independent of riches: they may be met with in the cottage of the poor, as well as in the palace of the great. To render the [Page 106]truth of these principles more obvious to you, let us make this simple and natural supposition.

Suppose two youths, the one the child of wealthy, the other of indigent parents; conceive the former, a haughty, arrogant, untractable, ignorant, idle young man, without piety towards God; without respect to his parents; addicted to swearing, lying, and every vice which springs from a bad heart and corrupt soul. Suppose the latter a virtuous youth, who fears God; is sub­missive to his parents; docile to his supe­riors; modest in his conversation; regular in his morals; fond of industry, study, and application; endued with every virtue adapted to his age; and worthy to be con­sidered as a model to all his acquaintance. The comparison admitted, I now ask you, which of the two would you wish to imi­tate? Does the condition of the fortunate youth, with his vices and imperfections, ap­pear to you preferable to that of the poor lad, with his virtues? Does the one, on ac­count [Page 107]of his riches, seem to you more esti­mable, more happy, or a greater object of envy than the other, on account of his po­verty? In short, were you to be one of them, and the freedom of choice to be given you, in whose favour would you determine? In favour of the poor young man, you reply, without hesitation. I thought so beforehand, and you are in the right of it; because he enjoys the only true riches, those alone which establish the merit of a man; those alone which are worthy of our praise and esteem. Instead of these, the other, with all his wealth and pretensions, is no more than a coxcomb, who only claims our contempt and indignation. It is evident, you see, that riches do not make us happy.

I do not, however, mean to say, that riches are intrinsically evil. This is by no means the idea I wish to convey. But I would give you to understand, that they are in themselves of no moment. Like beauty or bodily strength, they are the in­struments either of good or evil: they are not sufficient to make us happy and respect­able; [Page 108]they can only be rendered so, when converted to good purposes.

If riches cannot procure happiness for man, the pleasures of the senses are still less capable. In fact, God, in creating us, has mingled in our very existence the princi­ples of equity, modesty, and the differ­ent virtues necessary to conduct us to that end for which we were intended. We were born with a taste and disposition for order and virtue: hence it happens, that when we abandon ourselves to our unrea­sonable and unruly passions, we overturn that order established by nature and God himself; we act in contradiction to our­selves, and consequently we become un­happy. This is truly the case, and it is confirmed by daily experience. The dis­orderly passions, far from contributing to our felicity, are even the source of our sorrows. Vice is attended with trouble, anxiety, and uneasiness. It subdues the soul but to banish peace and repose. It is like a running ulcer, which corrodes the heart. The guilty are punished in the very com­mission [Page 109]of their crimes, by the pangs of end­less remorse, which wring the tortured soul. Man, in a criminal state, is his own execu­tioner; and in proportion as he indulges in lawless pleasures, he creates within his own bosom, as it were, an opposite chagrin, which dashes the cup of joy with bitter­ness, and torments him in a thousand shapes.

But if it be thus as you tell me, that nei­ther pleasures nor riches can make us hap­py, where then must we seek felicity?

Where seek it? In piety, virtue, and the practice and performance of your du­ties. This is the great secret of happiness; learn it then here; engrave it deeply on your hearts; and never forget, that our happiness is placed in virtue only, and that a pure conscience is the source of true plea­sures, the parent of real felicity, and the remedy for all troubles; because it puts us in possession of solid and permanent advan­tages. Riches delude us with ideas of ap­parent good, and at best are perishable. The malice of man may deprive us of them; [Page 110]the passions may swallow them up; the vi­cissitudes of fortune may turn them into other hands; and death at least, sooner or later, will compel us to part with them. But piety, justice, goodness, charity, mo­desty, &c. are the only riches which truly belong to us; the only wealth we can ac­quire and preserve; our only shield against misfortunes and the malice of man; and our only companions through every change of life, in adversity, in prosperity, in sick­ness, in health, in old age, in youth, in death, and even beyond the grave. O happy state of virtue, why not better known to man!

O youth, of every denomination, in riches or poverty, if you wish to be happy, become virtuous; and you will then be as completely so as it is possible in this life. But then remember, you must begin your career on the present moment. Consider (I cannot too often repeat it to you) that youth is the period which determines our success in life, and the season in which we should lay the foundation of futurity: that [Page 111]it is in vain to pretend we mean to become good hereafter, if we do not now give some proofs of our intention. Begin then in time to sow the seeds of virtue in your hearts, if you would wish to reap their fruits in season. Reflect that you have to conduct your whole life; a lingering space, perhaps, to travel over. Imitate then the wise and prudent man, who has a long voy­age to make. He ponders thereon, and employs a considerable time in providing every thing necessary to render his voyage comfortable. Do you also make your pre­parations, and dispose of every thing in such a manner, as to enable you to shape that unerring course which you have to steer through the ocean of life. You will meet with rocks and shoals in your passage, but you must take care not to split on them. Imitate the wisdom of the pilot: he does not wait till his vessel is battered by the storm, to provide what is necessary against it: he takes advantage of the calm, and makes his preparations in time. My chil­dren, the youth which you enjoy is pre­cisely the calm: it concerns you much to [Page 112]benefit by it. Shortly indeed the tempest of the passions will rife in your souls, and rage through all your senses. The ap­proaching hurricanes will sink you, and re­duce you to a melancholy wreck, if you have not the precaution to prepare in time against the violence of their attacks.

If you already feel the first approaches of the passions; if your heart begins to feel their first emotions; what must it be when they present themselves? Labour then to bar their passage to your soul; or destroy them in embryo, if they are near their birth. Do not wait therefore till they have taken root, and collected vigour; for then you would have much difficulty to dis­lodge them; and, almost in spite of your efforts, they would domineer and tyrannize over you.

This moral you have conveyed to us, you will probably say, is good and excel­lent; we agree to it. The picture you have drawn of virtue renders it lovely, and removes the prejudices which might disfi­gure [Page 113]it in our eyes. We now paint it in the most lively colours. We are persuaded, with you, that virtue alone makes man a praise-worthy being, and greatly contri­butes to his happiness. The explanation you have given of the different duties we have to perform towards God, mankind, and ourselves, is sensible and just: it has made an impression on our minds: it has instructed us, and may be of infinite service to us for the present, and the time to come. We have been particularly struck with the force of your reasoning, on the influence which youth has on future life, and the consequences of the principles we receive in youth. Coinciding with you, we are entirely convinced that these principles cannot be inspired or impressed but by edu­tion. Hence we conclude, that a good education is absolutely necessary; that it is every thing; that on it depends the fate of life; and that nothing in the world can be compared to the advantages resulting from it. We consent to all these; and we con­fess that children, who have the opportu­nity [Page 114]of receiving a good education, should embrace every means of benefiting by it. But here is one obstacle in our way; a bug­bear which terrifies us, discourages, and checks our ardour: we mean the painful cares of education, which demand, on our part, labour, assiduity, study, application, and a thousand things which are repugnant and unpleasant to youth. We must labour, you say, to be formed by a good education and virtue.

You certainly must; I agree with you in that assertion; and I expressly declare to you, that labour is the duty imposed on you, as the condition, without which you cannot derive any solid benefit from your education, were you possessed of the finest natural abilities, and the most eminent mas­ters. But permit me to ask you, in my turn, what could you do or accomplish in life without labour and application? Is not the whole course of human life, from the cradle to the grave, one continued scene of labour, cares, and fatigue?

[Page 115] Let us consider man in his infancy at the very period in which his ideas begin to dawn, his reason to expand. Does it not cost him some pains to know the use he should make of this reason. Wrapt in the deep gloom of ignorance, surrounded on every side by objects he is unacquainted with, does it not cost him infinite trouble to learn the name of each, its use, connection, convenience, and properties? All nature is astonishing and mysterious to his view. He is to himself an impenetrable enigma. He has only language to enquire, and to ask questions. The senses, those admira­ble vehicles of information, discover and manifest themselves to him but at his own expence, and by the dint of repeated disa­greeable and painful experiments. Arrived at the season of youth, is it not irksome to him to acquire that profession which he made his choice? Is he not obliged to devote a part of his time to study at those schools which have been appointed him? Must he obey them in every thing, and give him­self up diligently to all the exercises and [Page 116]different kinds of study which they prescribe and assign him? If he refuses to listen to them, if he shews himself an enemy to labour, can he ever advance or make any progress in the knowledge of their art? Is it not by constant imitation, by long and painful efforts, by daily assiduity, that he ceases to be a scholar, and commences a master? In a riper age, if he wishes to de­rive any advantage from the employment he follows, to exercise it with honour, and merit esteem and confidence, should he not persevere and double his labours; give proofs of his talents, capacity, emulation, patience, fidelity, and probity; and surmount every difficulty annexed to his situation? If he is settled in life; if he is married; if he has a family; what new cares and endless trou­bles is he involved in? To pay the same at­tention to his children, which he himself has experienced from his parents; to feed them in their infancy; to protect them from a thousand dangers which encompass and threaten them; to be attentive to all their necessaries; to procure them education; [Page 117]and to settle them in the world; all these are but a part of the duties which he has to perform on their account.

You are now going to mention what prevents you from following the practice of virtue, and attending to the care of your edu­cation; because it is too painful and trouble­some a pursuit. It is, you say, too laborious to acquire education? But do you not know, that such is the order of Providence in the dispensation of all his gifts, that he does not grant us any of them without re­quiring a portion of labour from us in re­turn? The very bread we eat, observe what a tedious process it must go through, to bring it to the state in which it becomes our food? Have you considered, that it is the fruit of the toils, the watchings, the pa­tience, and sweat of the labourer? Have you reflected on the changes and alterations it has undergone? This gold, this silver, which mankind in general are so enamour­ed with, do you know rightly what it is? Have you pondered on it? Do you know that we must enter the very bowels of the [Page 118]earth, and pierce into its deep and gloomy recesses, to seek it? That thousands of our fellow-beings are deprived of the light of day, and in a manner buried alive, in the very womb of the earth, there to procure these metals, for which our excessive thirst parches and consumes us? Those delicate dishes, those choice viands, which sometimes crown the festive board, do you know, that to obtain them, we must traverse the seas to remote distances, in the midst of rocks and dangers the most imminent? Those silks with which we are so fond of clothing and adorning our persons, are they not the spoil of worms, the most contemptible in­fects?

I should exceed the limits of these pages, were I to analyse all the wants of man, and the pains it costs him to satisfy them. La­bour is the condition and appendage of our nature; and without this condition, you could not obtain any enjoyment. If you wish to have friends, you must be in­terested in their welfare, love them, and render them service. If you mean to dis­tinguish [Page 119]yourself in the city you reside in, you must become useful to your fellow-citi­zens. If you have an ambition to excel in your profession, you must give proofs of capacity, talents, and merit. If you are desirous that the earth produce fruits, you must cultivate it. If you propose to en­rich yourself by commerce, you must be ac­quainted with your business, be attentive, active, and persevering. In short, any pro­fession you embrace, you cannot practice without trouble, toil, and difficulty. Would you suppose, then, that virtue is the only good on earth to be acquired without ex­ertions? Virtue, which is the most precious of all gifts, and infinitely surpasses all other things? Could you then henceforth love it as much as it is amiable, by making it the object of your addresses, the end of your education, and your whole conduct!

Plutarch, in the portrait he draws of the true philosopher, represents him practising virtue for its own sake; and from the con­viction of his reason, placing it above the possession of all other advantages; shewing [Page 120]his firm attachment to its principles, even in the supposition that he had lived in a country without prince or magistrate to watch over the actions of men, or without laws to direct their conduct, and teach them to be just, moderate, good, and tem­perate. Would to God that this picture were realized in you! That you would fol­low no other philosophy than that of a man truly religious, and truly virtuous! You would then, by practising the works of vir­tue, enjoy that happiness and those bles­sings which are its fruit and its reward.