Sometimes a mother is prejudiced against a governess, and undertakes the management of the child herself, while the daughter cunningly acts contrary to her taste. When children are so wretched that they are under the necessity of disguising their sentiments, the way of extricating them from such a dilemma, is, to instruct them solidly in the maxims of true prudence--as one perceives that the method of correcting a taste for novels and romances, is, by exciting a turn for useful and agreeable histories. If you do not encourage a rational curiosity, they will entertain an irrational one--in like manner, if you do not form their minds on the principles of true prudence, they will become attached to falsehood, which is, in fact, _finesse_.
Shew them, by examples, how one is able, without duplicity, to be discreet, foresighted, and attached to _legitimate_ means of succeeding. Tell them that prudence consists chiefly in speaking little--in entertaining a greater distrust of oneself than of others, and not in uttering false sentiments, and playing a deceitful part. An upright conduct, and a general reputation for integrity, begets more confidence and esteem, and, in the end, even more temporal advantages, than perverse and suspicious habits. How much does this judicious rectitude of conduct distinguish a person, and render her fit for the most important undertakings!
But add, how base and contemptible is _premeditated finesse_! it is either an account of some trifle which one is ashamed to mention, or it must be considered as a pernicious passion. When one wishes for that which it is lawful to wish for, the request is made openly--and it is sought for in a direct and proper method, with moderation. What is there more delightful and agreeable, than to be sincere? always tranquil--always content--having nothing to fear or to feign? On the contrary, a dissimulating character is always in agitation--remorse--and danger--and under the deplorable necessity of covering _one finesse_ by substituting an _hundred others_.
With all these shameful disquietudes, artificial characters never escape that misery from which they are constantly flying--sooner or later their _real_ character will appear. If the world has been their dupe in some single action, it will not continue so during the whole of their lives: oftentimes they are the dupes of those whom they wished to deceive: for there is sometimes an appearance of being dazzled by them, and they think themselves beloved--at the very moment, perhaps, when they are despised. At least they cannot prevent suspicion--and can any thing be more contrary to the rational interests of a prudent woman, than to see herself always suspected? Unfold these things by degrees--according as opportunity, necessity, or the bent of your pupil's intellect, may suggest.
