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Title: The Young Woman's Guide
Author: William A. Alcott
Posting Date: October 18, 2012 [EBook #9054]
Release Date: October, 2005
First Posted: September 1, 2003
Language: English
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THE YOUNG WOMAN'S GUIDE
by
William A. Alcott
[Illustration: Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, Ease and
alternate labour, useful life, Progressive virtue, and approving
Heaven! Thomson]
PREFACE.
This work was begun, soon after the appearance of the Young Man's
Guide--and was partially announced to the public. For reasons, however,
which I have not room to give in this place, it was thought proper to
defer its publication till the appearance of several other volumes in
the same spirit, involving more particularly the relative duties.
I wish to have it distinctly understood, that I do not propose to give
a complete manual of the social and moral duties of young women. Every
one has his own way of looking at things, and I have mine. Some of the
duties of young women have appeared to me to receive from other writers
less attention than their comparative importance demands; and
others--especially those which are connected with the great subject of
"temperance in all things"--I have believed to be treated, in several
respects, erroneously.
Permit me, however, to say, that while I have not intended to follow
the path, or repeat the ideas of any other writer, I have not attempted
to avoid either the one or the other. If I have presented here and
there a thought which had already come before the public from my own
pen, I can only say that I did not intend it, although I did not take
special pains to avoid it. The sum is this. I have presented my
thoughts, without so much reference to what has already been said by
myself or others, as to what I have supposed to be the necessities of
those for whom I write. I have gone straight forward, asking no
questions; and I trust I shall be dealt with in a manner equally direct.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. EXPLANATION OF TERMS.
Defining terms. The word excellence here used as nearly synonymous with
holiness. What is meant by calling the work a Guide. The term
Woman--why preferable, as a general term, to Lady. The class to whom
this work is best adapted.
CHAPTER II. FEMALE RESPONSIBILITIES.
Comparison of the responsibilities of young men and young women. Saying
of Dr. Rush. Its application to young women. Definition of the term
education. Bad and good education. Opinions of Solomon. Influence of a
young woman in a family--in a school. Anecdotes of female influence.
West, Alexander, Cæsar, Franklin. Story of a domestic in Boston. The
good she is doing. Special influence of young women in families--and as
sisters. Female influence in the renovation of the world.
CHAPTER III. SELF-EDUCATION.
Views of Agesilaus, king of Sparta--of Solomon, king of Israel. Mistake
corrected. What the wisest and best parents cannot do. What, therefore,
remains to the daughter. Necessity of self-education. The work of self
education the work of life--a never-ending progress upward to the
throne of God.
CHAPTER IV. LOVE OF IMPROVEMENT.
Female capabilities. Doing every thing in the best possible manner.
Unending progress. Every person and every occupation susceptible of
improvement, indefinitely. Doing well what is before us. Anecdote
illustrative of this principle. Personal duties. Two great classes of
persons described. Hopes of reaching the ears of the selfish.
CHAPTER V. SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
Vast extent of the science of self-knowledge. Spurious self-knowledge.
Knowledge of our physical frame--its laws and relations. Examples of
the need of this knowledge. Instruments of obtaining it. The use of
lectures. Study of our peculiarities. Study of mental philosophy. The
Bible. How the Bible should be studied.
CHAPTER VI. CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.
Is there any conscientiousness in the world? How far conscientiousness
should extend. Tendency and power of habit. Evils of doing incessantly
what we know to be wrong. Why we do this. Errors of early education.
False standard of right and wrong. Bad method of family discipline.
Palsy of the moral sensibilities. Particular direction in regard to the
education of conscience. Results which may be expected.
CHAPTER VII. SELF-GOVERNMENT.
What self-government includes. Cheerfulness a duty. Discretion.
Modesty. Diffidence. Courage. Vigilance. Thoughts and feelings. The
affections. The temper. The appetites and passions.
CHAPTER VIII. SELF-COMMAND.
Presence of mind. Examples. Napoleon. Female example. Mrs. Merrill. Use
of the anecdote. Self-command to be cultivated. In what manner. Consult
the experience of others. Consult your own reason and good sense. Daily
practice in the art of self-command.
CHAPTER IX. DECISION OF CHARACTER.
Decision of character as important to young women as to others. Why it
is so. Illustration of the subject by a Scripture anecdote. Misery and
danger of indecision. How to reform. Perseverance. Errors of modern
education.
CHAPTER X. SELF-DEPENDENCE.
Fashionable education. Why there is so little self-dependence in the
world. Why orphans sometimes make out well in the world. Error
corrected. What young women once were. What they are now. The best
character formed under difficulties. Cause of the present helpless
condition of females. Three or four to get breakfast. Modes of breaking
up these habits. Anecdote of an independent young woman. Appeal to the
reader.
CHAPTER XI. REASONING AND ORIGINALITY.
Females not expected to be reasoners. Effects of modern education on
the reasoning powers. Education of former days, illustrated by an
anecdote of an octogenarian. Extracts from her correspondence.
Difficulty in getting the ears of mankind. The reasoning powers in man
susceptible of cultivation indefinitely. Reflections on the importance
of maternal effort and female education.
CHAPTER XII. INVENTION.
Why woman has invented so few things. Abundant room for the exercise of
her inventive powers. Hints. Particular need of a reform in cookery.
Appeal to young women on this subject.
CHAPTER XIII. OBSERVATION AND REFLECTION.
Advice of Dr. Dwight. Other counsels to the young. Some persons of both
sexes are always seeing, but never reflecting. An object deserving of
pity. Zimmerman's views. Reading to get rid of reflection. Worse things
still.
CHAPTER XIV. DETRACTION AND SCANDAL.
Universal prevalence of detraction and slander. Proofs. Shakspeare.
Burns the poet. Self-knowledge, how much to be desired. Reference to
the work of Mrs. Opie--to our own hearts--to the Bible.
CHAPTER XV. THE RIGHT USE OF TIME.
Great value of moments. An old maxim. Wasting shreds of time. Time more
valuable than money. What are the most useful charities. Doing good by
proxy. Value of time for reflection. Doing nothing. Rendering an
account of our time at the last tribunal.
CHAPTER XVI. LOVE OF DOMESTIC CONCERNS.
Reasons for loving domestic life. 1. Young women should have some
avocation. Labor regarded as drudgery. 2. Domestic employment healthy.
3. It is pleasant. 4. It affords leisure for intellectual improvement.
5. It is favorable to social improvement. 6. It is the employment
assigned them by Divine Providence, and is eminently conducive to moral
improvement.--The moral lessons of domestic life. A well ordered home a
miniature of heaven.
CHAPTER XVII. FRUGALITY AND ECONOMY.
Economy becoming old fashioned. The Creator's example. Frugality and
economy should be early inculcated. Spending two pence to save one, not
always wrong. Examples of disregarding economy. Wasting small things.
Good habits as well as bad ones, go by companies. This chapter
particularly necessary to the young. Frugality and economy of our
grandmothers.
CHAPTER XVIII. SYSTEM.
General neglect of system in families. Successful efforts of a few
schools. Why the effects they produce are not permanent. Importance of
right education. Here and there system maybe found. Blessedness of
having a mother who is systematic. Let no person ever despair of
reformation. How to begin the work.
CHAPTER XIX. PUNCTUALITY.
Evil of being one minute too late. Examples to illustrate the
importance of punctuality. Case of a mother at Lowell. Her adventure.
General habits which led to such a disaster. Condition of a family
trained to despise punctuality.
CHAPTER XX. EXERCISE.
The muscles, or moving power of the body. Their number and character.
Philosophy and necessity of exercise. Why young women should study
these. Various kinds of exercise. 1. Walking. 2. Gardening and
agriculture. 3. House-keeping. 4. Riding. 5. Local
exercises.--Difficulty of drawing the public attention to this subject.
The slavery of fashion. Consequences of the fashionable neglect of
exercise. A common but shocking sight.
CHAPTER XXI. REST AND SLEEP.
Why rest and sleep are neglected. Sleep a condition. We should sleep in
the night. Moral tendency of not doing so. Is there any moral character
in such things? Of rest without sleep. Good habits is regard to sleep.
Apartments for sleep. Air. Bed. Covering. Temperature. Night clothing.
Advice of Macnish on the number of persons to a bed. Preparation for
sleep. Suppers. The more on indulge in sleep, the more sleep we seem to
require. The reader urged to study the laws of rest and sleep. An
appeal.
CHAPTER XXII. INDUSTRY.
Education to industry. Man naturally a lazy animal. Indolence in
females. Hybernation. Every young woman ought to be trained to support
herself, should necessity require it, and to aid in supporting others.
She should, at least, be always industrious. Kinds of labor, Mental
labor as truly valuable as bodily.
CHAPTER XXIII. VISITING.
Is there no time for relaxation? May there not be passive enjoyments?
Passive enjoyments sometimes wrong. How Christian visits should be
conducted. Duty and pleasure compatible. Passive visits useful to
childhood. Folly of morning calls and evening parties. Bible doctrine
of visiting. Abuse of visiting.
CHAPTER XXIV. MANNERS.
Miss Sedgwick on good manners. Her complaint. Just views of good
manners. Good manners the natural accompaniment of an good heart. The
Bible the best book on manners. Illustrations of the subject.
CHAPTER XXV. HEALTH AND BEAUTY.
Dr. Bell's new work on Health and Beauty. Its value. Adam and Eve
probably very beautiful. Primitive beauty of our race to be yet
restored. Sin the cause of present ugliness. Never too late to reform.
Opinion of Dr. Rush. An important principle. The doctrine of human
perfectibility disavowed. Various causes of ugliness. Obedience to law,
natural and moral, the true source of beauty. Indecency and immorality
of neglecting cleanliness.
CHAPTER XXVI. NEATNESS AND CLEANLINESS.
Reasons for discussing these topics. Every person should undergo a
thorough ablution once a day. Quotation from Mrs. Farrar. Two important
objects gained by cold bathing. Its value as an exercise. Various forms
of bathing. Philosophy of this subject. Vast amount of dirt
accumulating on the surface. Statement of Mr. Buckingham. Bathing
necessary in all employments. Offices of the skin, and evil
consequences of keeping it in an uncleanly condition.
CHAPTER XXVII DRESS AND ORNAMENT.
Legitimate purposes of dress--as a covering, a regulator of
temperature, and a defence. Use of ornaments. Further thoughts on
dress. How clothing keeps us warm. Errors in regard to the material,
quality, and form of our dress. Tight lacing--its numerous evils.
Improvement of the lungs by education. Objections to the use of
personal ornaments.
CHAPTER XXVIII. DOSING AND DRUGGING.
Tendency of young women to dosing and drugging. "Nervousness." Qualms
of the stomach. Eating between our meals--its mischiefs. Evils of more
direct dosing. What organs are injured. Confectionery. The danger from
quacks and quackery.
CHAPTER XXIX. TAKING CARE OF THE SICK.
The art of taking care of the sick should be a part of female
education. Five reasons for this. Doing good. Doing good by proxy.
Great value of personal services. How can young women be trained to
these services? Contagion. Breathing bad air. Aged nurses. . Scientific
instruction of nurses. Visiting and taking care of the sick a religious
duty. Appeal to young women.
CHAPTER XXX. INTELLECTUAL IMPROVEMENT.
Futility of the question whether woman is or is not inferior to man.
Conversation as a means of improvement. Taciturnity and loquacity.
Seven rules in regard to conversation. Reading another means of mental
progress. Thoughts on a perverted taste. Choosing the evil and refusing
the good. Advice of parents, teachers, ministers &c. Advice of a choice
friend. Young people reluctant to be advised. Set hours for reading.
Reading too much. Reading but a species of talking. Composition. Common
mistakes about composing. Attempt to set the matter right.
Journalizing. How a journal should be kept. Music. Vocal music
something more than a mere accomplishment. Lectures and concerts.
Studies. Keys of knowledge.
CHAPTER XXXI. SOCIAL IMPROVEMENT.
Improvement in a solitary state. The social relations. Mother and
daughter. Father and daughter. Brother and sister. The elder sister.
Brethren and sisters of the great human family. The family
constitution. Character of Fidelia. Her resolutions of celibacy. In
what cases the latter is a duty. A new and interesting relation.
Selection with reference to it. Principles by which to be governed in
making a selection. Evils of a hasty or ill-judged selection.
Counsellors. Anecdote of an unwise one. Great caution to be observed.
Direction to be sought at the throne of grace.
CHAPTER XXXII. MORAL PROGRESS.
Importance of progress. Physical improvement a means rather than an
end. The same true of intellectual improvement. The general homage
which is paid to inoffensiveness. Picture of a modern Christian family.
Measuring ourselves by others. Our Saviour the only true standard of
comparison. Importance of self-denial and self-sacrifice. Blessedness
of communicating. Young women urged to emancipate themselves from the
bondage of fashion, and custom, and selfishness.
THE YOUNG WOMAN'S GUIDE.
CHAPTER I.
EXPLANATION OF TERMS.
Defining terms. The word excellence here used as nearly synonym with
holiness. What is meant by calling the work a Guide. The term
Woman--why preferable, as a general term, to Lady. The class to whom
this work is best adapted.
It has been said, and with no little truth, that a large proportion of
the disputes in the world might have been avoided, had the disputants
first settled the meaning of the terms they respectively used. In like
manner might a large share of the misapprehension and error in the
world be avoided, if those who attempt to teach, would first explain
their terms.
This work is called "The Young Woman's Guide to EXCELLENCE," because it
is believed that excellence, rather than happiness, should be the
leading aim of every human being. I am not ignorant that
happiness--present and future--is proposed as our "being's end and
aim," not only by as distinguished a poet as Alexander Pope, but also
by as distinguished a philosopher as William Paley. But these men did
not learn in the school of Christ, that our "beings end and aim" is
happiness, present or future. The Christian religion, no less than
Christian philosophy and sound common sense, teaches that holiness or
excellence should be the leading aim of mankind. Not that "the
recompense of reward," to which the best men of the world have had
regard in all their conduct, is to be wholly overlooked, but only that
it should not be too prominent in the mind's eye, and too exclusively
the soul's aim; since it would thus be but a more refined and more
elevated selfishness. Real excellence brings happiness along with it.
Like godliness--which, indeed, is the same thing--it has the promise of
the life that now is, and of that which is to come. And that happiness
which is attainable without personal excellence or holiness, is either
undeserved or spurious. The world. I know, very generally seek after
it, whether deserved or undeserved; and whether willing or not to pay
the price.
My object is to assist, if I can, in removing from our world the error
of seeking happiness as a primary object. Let us but pursue excellence,
and happiness will almost inevitably follow. I address this exhortation
to Young Women, in particular, for reasons which will be seen when I
come, in the next chapter, to speak of female responsibilities. Let
every young woman aspire to high degrees of purity and excellence. Let
her great aim be, to be personally holy--like God her Saviour. To this
end and with this aim, let her be ready to set aside, if necessary,
father and mother, and brother and sister--yes, and her own life
also,--assured that if she does it with a sacred regard to God and
duty, all will be well. Let her but follow Christ according to the
gospel plan, if it lead her to prison and to death. But it will not
thus lead her. For every self-denial or self-sacrifice it involves, she
will secure, as a general rule, manifold more in this present life, and
in the world to come, life everlasting.
This book is not called "The Young Woman's GUIDE," with the expectation
that she will consider it her only or even her principal guide. The
Bible should be the principal guide of every person, young or old, male
or female. Parents, also, are invaluable as guides. I offer it only as
the best guide which my reflections upon those subjects, connected with
the welfare of young women, that come within the department of my study
and observation, enable me to give. May it prove a guide indeed!
I have called it "The Young WOMAN'S Guide," because there are many who
are accustomed to associate with the word lady; the idea of exemption
from labor, and of entire devotion to something supposed to be above
it--as fashionable company, or fashionable dress and equipage. And not
a few can hardly hear the word mentioned without disgust. Miss Sedgwick
has illustrated this part of my subject very happily in the first and
fifteenth chapters of her "Means and Ends." She says she does not write
exclusively for those who are termed young _ladies;_ because she does
not believe in any such fixed class, in the country. The term _lady_,
she also says, is too indefinite for any valuable use. We not only
apply it to those who are, or would be, above labor, but in a great
many other ways--as that "old lady," meaning, perhaps, some beggar at
the door, &c.
In short, she does not like the use of the phrase, young lady, at all.
Neither do I. Besides, I like best the good old fashioned term, YOUNG
WOMAN. This exactly represents the class for whom I write, and that,
too, without either explanation or qualification. It will be mistaken
by no one, nor will it be likely to give or cause any offence.
Finally, I call the work "The YOUNG Woman's Guide," because I design it
for those single persons of the female sex to whom the term young is
usually applied; viz., those who are from twelve or fourteen to
eighteen or twenty years of age--and to those, in general, who are
single. I hope, nevertheless, that it will contain some thoughts which
may be useful to those individuals who are in married life, as well as
to those who are below the age of twelve years. Many of its suggestions
and principles will, indeed, be applicable--so far as they are just or
true--to all mankind.
CHAPTER II.
FEMALE RESPONSIBILITIES.
Comparison of the responsibilities of young men and young women. Saying
of Dr. Rush. Its application to young women. Definition of the term
education. Bad and good education. Opinions of Solomon. Influence of a
young woman in a family--in a school. Anecdotes of female influence.
West, Alexander, Cæsar, Franklin. Story of a domestic in Boston. The
good she is doing. Special influence of young women in families--and as
sisters. Female influence in the renovation of the world.
Much has been said, within a few years, of the duties,
responsibilities, &c., of young men, especially the young men of our
republic. A great deal that has been said, has, in my view, been
appropriate and well-timed. My own attention has been frequently turned
to the same class of individuals; nor do I regret it. My only regret
is, that what I have said, has not been said to better purpose.
Counsels and cautions to young men, standing on slippery places as they
confessedly do, can hardly be too numerous, provided those who give
them, use discretion, and remember their responsibility, not only to
the tribunal of public opinion, but to a tribunal still higher.
The snares, the dangers, the difficulties, the influence, the
responsibilities of young men--at least in the United States--can
hardly be overrated. Would that they could be so trained and directed
as fully to understand them, and govern themselves accordingly! Would
that they could be made to exert that moral influence in the salvation
of our race--politically no less than morally, nationally no less than
individually--of which they are so capable.
Yet, after every concession of this kind, I am compelled to believe
that the responsibilities and influence of young women--to say nothing
at present of their dangers--are much more weighty than those of young
men. I am decidedly of opinion, that the future holiness and happiness
of the world in which we live, depend much more on the character of the
rising generation of the female sex, than on the character of our young
men.
It was said by Dr. Rush, long ago, that mothers and school-masters
plant the seeds of nearly all the good and evil in our world.
Presuming that by school-masters he meant teachers of both sexes, will
any one doubt the truth of his assertion? Will any one doubt the
justness of a remark in the late "Western Review," that if this world
is ever to become a better and a happier world, woman must be foremost,
if not the principal agent in rendering it so?
But as mothers are never mothers till they have been daughters, is it
not obvious that the right education of these last is as great a work
as any to which human mind and human effort have ever been called? If
woman moves the world, intellectually, morally, and even, in effect,
politically--as no doubt she does--is it not of primary importance that
she be taught, as well as teach herself, to move it right?
Can it be necessary to advert, in this place, to the well known and
acknowledged fact, that almost every man of extensive influence, for
good or for evil, whom the world has produced, became what he was
through maternal influence? Cæsar, and Caligula, and Talleyrand, and
Napoleon, became what they were in consequence of their mothers, no
less than Alfred, and Doddridge, and Howard, and Washington. For let it
not be forgotten that mothers and teachers, according to Dr. Rush--and,
in fact, according to common observation, too--plant the seeds of the
world of evil no less than of the world of good. How exceedingly
important, then, that _they_ should be well educated, "from whom," in
the language of another writer, "our virtues are, and from whom our
vices may be"--we would add _must_ be--"derived;" at least in no small
proportion!
But I am using the term education without explaining it. Let me, then,
ere I proceed to say more on the subject of female responsibility,
explain what I mean by education, especially female education.
Mere instruction in the sciences is, indeed, education; it is, however,
but a very small part of it. To educate, is to train up. In this view,
all are of course educated; and every thing which has an influence in
developing mind or body, and in training up, either for good or for
evil, is entitled, justly, to the name of education.
But if the above definition be just--if whatever concerns our
development, or the formation of any part of our character, physical,
intellectual, social or moral, is education--then it must follow that
there are two kinds of education, bad and good. All persons, places and
things, which affect us (and what does not affect us?) and influence
us, for good or for evil, must educate us.
I am aware that this definition is not new: still, it is not generally
received, or if received, not generally acted upon. There is still an
almost universal clinging to the old, inadequate, incorrect idea, that
the principal part of education consists in the cultivation of the
intellect; and that, too, by set lessons; received, for the most part,
at the schools. The true idea of education, therefore, must be
continually enforced, till it becomes common property, and until
mankind act as if they believed what they profess in regard to it.
When Solomon says, "Train up a child in the way he should go," he is
talking of what I call _education;_ and the kind of education which he
is there recommending, is _good_ education. I do not believe he had the
schools in his mind--the infant school, the Sabbath school, the common
school, the high school, or the university.
Far be it from me to attempt to detract from the value of our schools;
on the contrary, I regard them as of inestimable worth, when duly
attended to. What I insist on is, that they are not the _all in all_ of
education; and that, in fact, their influence in training up or forming
good character, is so trifling--that is, comparatively--that they
scarcely deserve to be thought of when speaking of education, as a
whole, especially the education of daughters. And though one of the
tribes of the nation to which Solomon belonged, over which he reigned,
and for whom, in particular, he wrote, is said to have been
school-masters by profession, and another priests, I can hardly
conceive that when he was inspired to give the educational advice just
alluded to, he ever turned so much as a thought to the little corner of
Palestine allotted to Simeon, or to the Levites in their respective but
more scattered stations.
Solomon was, in all probability, addressing himself chiefly to the
fathers and mothers, and grand-fathers and grand-mothers, and other
relatives of Israel; the class who, by their united influence, make the
son and daughter, and grand-son and grand-daughter, what they are--a
blessing or a curse to the world in which they are to live. For,
according as children are brought up by these teachers, and by the
influences which are shed upon them from day to day and from hour to
hour, so are they well or ill educated.
If I have been successful in presenting the meaning of a term which is
not only frequently used in this book, but almost every where else, it
will follow, as a matter of course, that I do not attach too much
importance to the education of daughters themselves, nor to their
education as the teachers of others. For if to educate, is to form
character, what young woman can be found, of any age or in any family,
who is not a teacher?
Have young women often considered--daughters, especially--how much they
influence younger brothers and sisters, if any such there are in the
family where they dwell? Have they considered how much they sometimes
influence the character--and how much more they might do it--not only
of their school-mates and play-mates, but also of their more aged
friends and companions--their parents, grand-parents, and others?
[Footnote: On reading these paragraphs in manuscript, to one of our
more eminent teachers, he observed that if he had been useful in the
world, he owed his usefulness to the exertions of a maiden lady who
resided in his father's family, while his character was forming.]
I could tell them--were this the place for it--many a true story of
reading daughters who have been the means of awakening, in their aged
parents, or grand-parents, or other friends, a taste for reading, which
they might otherwise have gone down to the grave without acquiring. I
could tell them of many a father and mother, and grand-father and
grand-mother, grown grey in vice--hardened even by intemperance as well
as other vices--who have been reformed by the prattle, or the reproof,
or the prayers of a good daughter. Is not such a daughter a teacher?
But I am most anxious to convince young women of their responsibilities
in regard to the rising generation, especially their own brothers and
companions. I am anxious, if I can, to convince all who read this
volume, that God has, by his providence, committed to their charge, in
no small degree, the bodies, and minds, and the souls of those with
whom, in this world, they are associated. That according to their own
conduct, good or ill, will be, in no small measure, the health, and
knowledge, and excellence of their friends and companions. That
according to their efforts--attended, either by the blessing of God, or
the tokens of his displeasure--will be the condition of millions, for
time and for eternity.
But is it so? Are daughters, as daughters merely--to say nothing, as
yet, of maternal influence--are daughters thus influential? Is it true
that the destiny of millions is thus committed to their keeping?
I have seen the conduct of a whole school--I speak now of the common or
district school--graduated by the conduct of a single virtuous, and
amiable, and intelligent young woman, not twelve years old, who
attended it. I have seen a whole Sabbath school not a little affected
by the prompt attention, decorous behaviour and pious example of some
elder member of an older class, to whom the younger members of classes,
male and female, looked up, as to a sort of monitor, or I know not what
to call it--for the impression thus made, is better seen and felt than
described. The bad behaviour of a young woman, in these circumstances,
is, indeed, equally influential--nay, more so, inasmuch as the current
of human nature sets more readily downward than upward. Still, a good
example is influential--greatly so: would that it were generally known
how much so!
Suppose now that by your good behaviour and pious example in the
Sabbath school, you are the means of turning the attention of one
younger companion, male or female, to serious things, and of bringing
down upon that young person the blessing of Almighty God. Suppose that
individual should live to teach or to preach, or in some other form to
bless the world, by bringing numbers to the knowledge, and love, and
inculcation of the very truth which has saved his own soul--and these
last, in their turn, should become apostles or missionaries to others,
and so on. Is there any end, at least till the world comes to an end,
of the good influence which a good Sabbath school pupil _may_ thus
exert?
But this is something more than a supposed case. Is it not, in effect,
just what is actually taking place around us in the world continually?
Not, indeed, that a long train of good influences has been frequently
set agoing in the Sabbath school--for Sabbath schools are but of recent
origin. But people have always been led along to virtue or vice, to
piety or impiety, to bless the world or to prove a curse to it, by one
another. A word or a look from a relative, or friend, or acquaintance,
in the school or somewhere else, has often given a turn to the whole
character. A word, it is said, may move a continent. Something less
than a word--a look or a smile of approbation--may move more than a
continent. It may move not merely a West, [Footnote: A mother's kiss,
in token of her approbation of some little pencil sketch, is believed
by Benjamin West to have given the turn to his character--the character
of a who said, and justly, that he painted for eternity. "That mother's
kiss," he observes, "made me a painter."] but an Alexander, a Cæsar, a
Napoleon, a Washington and a Howard--men who, in their turn, moved a
world!
I have spoken of the influence which a young woman may have on millions
through the medium of the Sabbath school. But if she may influence in
this way, the millions of those who are to come after her, how much
more may she do in forming character for the great future, in the
family! Her presence in the Sabbath school is only once a week--an hour
or two a day, once in seven days; whereas, her influence in the family
is going on perpetually.
The clothes of Alexander the Great, are said to have been made, to a
very great extent, by his sisters; and those of Augustus Cæsar were
made for many years, by his. And can we doubt that these young females
were influential, in a great many respects, in the education of these
conquerors? What could the latter have done, but for the assistance and
influence of mothers and sisters? And can we have any Alexanders and
Cæsars, at the present day, to carry on the moral and intellectual
conquests which are so necessary in the world, without the aid and
co-operation of mothers and sisters?
Sisters little know--it is almost impossible for them ever to know--how
much they do to bring about results,--to educate their brothers and
friends, for the work which they perform, whether good or evil. The
sisters of Franklin little knew what they were doing for "young Benny,"
as they called him, while they assisted their mother in taking care of
his clothes, in preparing his food, and in ministering to his other
physical wants--yes, and to the wants of his mind, too. Who can say
that Benjamin Franklin would ever have been what Benjamin Franklin was,
without their aid, joined to the efforts of their mother?
Many a young female, having caught, in some degree, the spirit of doing
good, has sighed for opportunities. "What can I do?" she has seemed to
say, "here at home. If I could be a missionary at Ceylon, or South
Africa, or the Sandwich Islands, or even if I could be a teacher, I
could, perhaps, do something. But as it is, I must remain a mere cypher
in the world. I would do good, but I have no opportunities."
She who says this, is undoubtedly sincere. She is, however, greatly
mistaken. Her opportunities for doing good--for exerting an influence
to bless her race--"are neither few nor small." There is, indeed, a
difference, a very great difference, in human conditions and
circumstances; and yet I am persuaded, no female is so secluded as not
to be able to fulfil, towards her race, a most important mission.
I know of an excellent female who is often heard lamenting her want of
opportunity for usefulness. She has the spirit of doing good as she
supposes, and as I fully believe. And yet she is miserable--she makes
herself so--by repining continually at her want of ability to perform
the good works which her heart meditates. She would rejoice to devote
her self to the elevation of her race. She would gladly go to India, or
the South Seas, if her age and uncultivated intellect did not exclude
her from being a candidate. Now, without saying a word in disparagement
of foreign missions--for the success of which I would gladly contribute
largely, not only by prayers, but by pecuniary contributions--truth
compels me to say of this female, that I am by no means sure she could
do more for humanity, or more, in fact, for the cause of Christ, by a
foreign mission, than she is now doing by a domestic one.
A _domestic_ mission hers indeed is, in the fullest sense of the term.
She is an ordinary domestic--and no more--in the family to which she
belongs. But what is the condition of that family? The head of it is
the distinguished teacher of a private female seminary. Here he has
prepared hundreds of young women--so far, I mean, as the mere
instruction of what he calls a "family school," is concerned--for
usefulness as teachers, as sisters, as ministers to the aged, and as
mothers to the young. Suppose he has instructed, in his comparatively
excellent way, two hundred females. Suppose again one half of the
females he has instructed and counselled and lived among, should, in
their turn, each form as much character as he has already done--and he
is yet but a middle aged man; and suppose half the disciples of each of
these pupils in their turn should do the same, and thus on, till the
year of our Lord 2000, only, which is, as we have reason to believe,
but a little way towards the end of the world. Suppose one hundred only
of each two hundred, should live to have influence, seventy-five of
them as the mothers of families of the usual size, and twenty-five
only, as teachers. There will then be five generations in one hundred
and sixty years; and the number of children which will come under the
influence of this line or succession of mothers and teachers, will be
no less than ninety millions; or a number equal to six times the
present population of the United States.
Now what I have here supposed, is by no means beyond the pale of
possibility. Two hundred pupils is not a large number for one teacher
to instruct during his whole life. Nor is twenty-five a large
proportion of two hundred to become teachers. Nor is seventy-five a
large number in two hundred to live to have families; nor two children
in each family, upon an average, a very large number to come to
maturity and have families in their turn. Besides, I have reckoned but
four generations in one hundred and sixty years, exclusive of that now
educating. So that I have kept my estimates within due bounds in every
respect.
Do you ask what the domestic of whom I have spoken has to do with all
this? I answer, much--very much indeed. Has she not rendered to the
teacher in whose employ she has been, that kind of services, without
which he could not have followed his occupation? And if ninety
millions, or even one tenth that number of citizens should, in the
course of the next two centuries, reap the benefit of his labors, and
become lights in the world, is it too much to say that she has been an
important aid in accomplishing the work? Nay, is it even too much to
affirm that unless the part which she has acted had been performed by
her or somebody else, the school could not have gone on, and two
hundred young women could not have received the teacher's instructions?
Why, then, is not this humble domestic to whom I allude, a benefactor
to her race--if a benefaction it is, to raise up and qualify for
usefulness two hundred females--as well as he who has the whole credit
of it? I will not, indeed, say that any thing like as much credit is
due to her as to him; but I may say, and with truth, that she was an
important auxiliary in producing the results that have been mentioned.
But if a humble domestic, one who imagines herself so obscure as to be
of little service to a world which perhaps estimates her services
almost as low as she does herself--if such an individual may, besides
the general influence of her character upon a family, be an
indispensable aid in the work of sending forth to the world a host of
female missionaries, equal, in the progress of less than two centuries,
at the dawn of the millennium, to ninety millions, what may not be done
by a sister in _a well ordered family_--one who is not only well
educated and governed herself, but who educates and governs others well?
It may indeed be said, that a domestic, in the family of a
distinguished teacher, may indirectly influence, by her labors in the
way I have mentioned, a far greater number of her race than most
sisters are able to do. It may, indeed, be so. There is, however,
another consideration. It is chiefly the externals of education which
can receive attention, even in our best private schools. Little can be
done, at the best, to form character--deep, permanent, and abiding
character. Blessings indeed--great blessings--such schools are; but in
proportion as their numbers are increased beyond those of our larger
families, in the same proportion is the influence which might be
exerted by the teacher, scattered and weakened; whereas, if the number
be small, the influence of those who teach by example and by precept,
is concentrated, and rendered efficient. There is no certainty that the
feebler influence which is exerted on ninety millions, might not do
more good by being concentrated on one tenth or one twentieth that
number. In other words, if the same amount of pains were taken by
mothers and sisters, and the same amount of labor bestowed for the
purpose, there is no certainty that the world might not as soon be
rendered what it should be through the medium of family education
alone, as with the aid of other influences. Christianity, when brought
to bear upon the family by the united exertions of father, mother,
brothers and sisters, will probably have an influence on the
regeneration of the world, of which no human mind--uninspired at
least--has ever yet conceived.
Would that our young females--sisters especially--had but an imperfect
conception of the power they possess to labor in the cause of human
improvement! Would that they had but an imperfect idea of female
responsibility!
My remarks are applicable to all young women; but they are particularly
so to elder sisters. To them is given in special charge, the happiness
and the destiny of all younger brothers and sisters, be they ever so
numerous. As the desires of Abel were to be expressed to Cain, and the
latter was appointed to rule over the former, so is the elder daughter
appointed to rule over those whom God has, in the same manner,
committed to her trust. Happy is she who has right views of her weighty
responsibilities; but thrice happy is she who not only understands her
duty, but does it!
But if the moral character, much more than the physical and
intellectual well being of the family, is given in charge to elder
sisters, and even to all sisters, it is scarcely possible for them to
form a correct idea of the weight of their influence, in this respect
at least, till they are past the age when that influence is most
necessary, most persuasive, and most effectual.
I have seldom found a young man who had strayed long and widely from
the path of virtue, who had enjoyed the society and influence of a
wise, and virtuous, and attentive sister. On the contrary, I have
almost uniformly found such individuals to have been in families where
there were no sisters, or where the sisters were not what they ought to
have been; or to have been kept at schools where there were none but
our sex.
I beseech every young female reader to make herself acquainted, as far
as she possibly can, with the nature of her influence, and the
consequent responsibilities which devolve upon her. Let her understand
that the day has gone by in which physical force was supposed to rule
the world. Moral influence is now the order of the day; and they whose
moral influence is most weighty and powerful, are they who most
effectually bear rule. But as it is reserved for woman, when sensible,
enlightened, virtuous and pious, to exercise the most weighty moral
influence, consequently it is her province most effectually to bear
rule. Kings, and emperors, and presidents, parliaments, and congresses,
and assemblies, and courts, and legislators, and judges, may labor in
vain to influence or to reform mankind, so long as female influence is
not what it should be. But let females be rightly educated, and let
them do what a good education will enable them to do, and vice will ere
long hang her head, and virtue and piety--which alone exalt a nation,
or the individuals that compose it--will resume their sway. Then will
the wilderness and the solitary place be glad, and the desert rejoice
and blossom as the rose.
CHAPTER III.
SELF-EDUCATION.
Views of Agesilaus, king of Sparta--of Solomon, king of Israel. Mistake
corrected. What the wisest and best parents cannot do. What, therefore,
remains to the daughter. Necessity of self-education. The work of
self-education the work of life--a never-ending progress upward to the
throne of God.
Woman, then, now so often miseducated, must be trained in the way she
should go. But let us consider a little more in detail what this
education or training of woman should be, and what it should accomplish.
When Agesilaus, king of Sparta, was asked what things he thought most
proper for boys to learn, he replied--"Those which they ought to
practise when they come to be men." Nor does this essentially differ
from the direction of Solomon, which has been quoted.
If females do, in effect, rule the world, they ought, as I have before
said, to be trained to sway the sceptre of moral rule in the right
manner. If they now stand in the same position, as regards the world
and the world's happiness, with that which boys were supposed to occupy
in the days of Agesilaus, and if this thing was correct in his opinion,
then it follows that a proper answer to the question, What things are
most proper for girls to learn? would be--Those which they ought to
practise when they come to be women.
But it will not be forgotten that the definition I have given of the
term education includes much more than merely direct efforts to teach.
Whatever affects the health or the progress of body, mind or soul, even
though it were that in which the individual is mostly passive, as in
sleep, is a part of our education.
There is one point in which the views of Agesilaus concerning
education, if not incorrect, are at least defective. He appears to
countenance an idea, still very prevalent, that children and youth are
not only in a state of preparation for the future, but a state of
preparation, _merely_.
They are to be taught what they ought to practise when they come to be
men, according to Agesilaus; but according to the views of one who was
wiser than he, they are to be trained in the way they should go. The
latter view comes nearer the truth of the case than the former. It
requires, or at least permits us, to train up the child to-day for the
enjoyments of to-day, as well as for those of to-morrow--a point which
the maxim of Agesilaus does not seem to include.
Young people are taught, almost universally--by example, if not by
precept--to consider merit, if not virtue and happiness, as belonging
exclusively to maturity. They are not enough assured that youth, though
a state of preparation and trial, is also a state of reward; and that
neither usefulness nor happiness is confined to place, age or
circumstances.
I wish to see the day arrive when the young--young women,
especially--will not look forward so much to a distant day and to
distant circumstances, for a theatre of action, and for the rewards of
action, as they are accustomed to do; for they thus deprive themselves
of a vast amount of happiness which is due them in the _present_,
without in the least enhancing the value or the pleasures of the future.
I wish to see them so educated that they will not only be what they
should be, when they come to adult age, but also what they should be
now. They have or should have a character to acquire _now_; a
reputation to secure and maintain _now_; and a sphere of personal
usefulness and happiness to occupy _now_.
It is true, indeed, that childhood and youth are more specially seasons
of preparation, and less specially seasons of reward, than maturer and
later life; but it is also equally true, that every stage of life, not
excepting its very evening, is little more than a preparation for a
still higher state, where reward will predominate in a degree which
will make all previous preparation seem to dwindle almost to nothing.
Existence, in short, is a state of progress, having, at every step, so
far as we know, its trials and rewards--the rewards always, however,
predominating, and the trials diminishing, in proportion as personal
holiness renders the latter unnecessary.
It will happen, unavoidably, that many young women to whom this little
volume may come, will have been trained up, to the time of casting
their eyes on these pages, in the old fashioned belief to which I have
alluded--viz., that they can neither _do_ nor _be_ much in the world,
except to submit passively to certain processes which have received the
name of education, till their arrival at a certain size or age. The
fault, reader--if such should be the case--is not chargeable, solely,
on your parents. They followed a custom which they found; they did not
make it. But however this may be, it is clear that your great object
should now be, to see what you can do for yourself.
Now, then, here you are, twelve, fourteen, perhaps sixteen years of
age. Your parents have brought you up according to the existing
customs, _for the future_. They have not sought to make you feel your
present responsibilities, your present power to do good, your present
capacity for communicating and securing happiness, so much as to make
you believe there are responsibilities, and powers, and capacities, and
rewards, to be yours when you come to be large enough and old enough to
appreciate or receive them.
But whatever your parents may have left undone in regard to the
formation of your character, it is yours to do. Need I urge the
necessity of the case? The present is an exceedingly important period
of your life; and what is to be done, must be done quickly. But what
your parents have hitherto left undone, they will be likely to continue
to leave undone. Unless you apply yourself, therefore--and that
immediately--to the finishing of a work, that, owing to the
circumstances in which they have been and still are placed, and the
views they have entertained, they have left unfinished, your education
is not likely to be, by any means, so perfect as it should be. You must
take it up, therefore, where they have left it; and do, for yourself,
what they have not done for you. In other words, you must engage, at
once, in the great work of self-education.
It may, indeed, be the case, that you are the child of parents who have
done their best, and who have done it intelligently. Blessed is the
young woman who has such parents, but thrice blessed are the parents
themselves, if, in the performance of their work, they have the
co-operation of the daughter. There must be self-education even where
there are the best of parents. In fact, the work of parental training
and that of self-education, should go on together; they cannot well be
separated. Parental effort will produce but half its legitimate
results, when not seconded by the efforts of infancy and childhood, and
especially of youth. The reasons for this are so obvious that they
hardly need to be repeated. No young woman can be constantly in the
company of her mother; no mother can constantly watch over her
daughter. In the best families there are hours of each day, when the
child of every age, especially of youthful age and capacity, must be
left to herself or to the influence of others. What, then, is to become
of her? Is she to yield to that current of the world which every where
sets downward?
You will say, perhaps, that she has good habit on her side, together
with the counsels of good and kind parents. If so, I say again, she is
highly favored. But what if it happen to be otherwise? What if the
parents happen not to be wise and discriminating, or seem unable to
find time, in the bustle of a busy world, to do that which they know it
were desirable to do? What then?
I repeat the sentiment, then: if you have the best of parents, you are
liable, at your age, to be thrown, day after day, into new and untried
circumstances--such as it were next to impossible for parents to
foresee. New feelings will arise unknown to yourself, and
undiscoverable by them. New passions will make their appearance--new
temptations will solicit--new trials will be allotted you, In spite of
the best parental efforts at education, there will still remain to you
a great work of _self_-effort.
To assist you in it, is the leading object of this little volume. It is
not a substitute for parental counsels. It is not a substitute for your
own reflections. If it prove not an aid to parents, in their task, and
if it encourage not the reflection and the self-efforts of the young,
it will not accomplish its object.
In the preceding chapter I have endeavored to give a general idea of
education, as I understand and use the term. In this I have shown that
no small part of the great work of education devolves, in the best
circumstances--and much more in circumstances which are
unfavorable--upon the daughter. I have shown that her whole life is a
state of preparation, indeed--but also, in some measure, a state of
reward.
You perceive your own character and happiness, for time and for
eternity, to be placed, in no small degree and measure, in your own
hands--the efforts of parents, friends and teachers to the contrary
notwithstanding. You perceive the formation of that character, by the
combined efforts of your parents and others and yourself, to constitute
the work of your education. You perceive yourself capable--at least I
hope you do--of everlasting progress; of approaching the great source
of Light, and Truth, and Knowledge, and Excellence, forever and ever,
though without the possibility of attaining it. You perceive that,
though allied on the one side to the dust you tread on, you are allied
on the other side to heaven; that though connected by ties of
consanguinity to the worm you are also connected, or may be, with
angels and archangels, and cherubim and seraphim, in the glorious work
of unceasing progress upward toward the throne of God. Will you not,
then, hail with joy, every effort of every being who would assist your
spirit in its upward flight?
To educate yourself--to make progress--to ascend toward the Eternal
Throne,--you must know yourself--the laws within and without you--your
relations, by means of those laws, to other things and other
beings--your powers, your capacities, your prerogatives. You must,
moreover, know how to govern yourself in accordance with your knowledge.
CHAPTER IV
LOVE OF IMPROVEMENT.
Female capabilities. Doing every thing in the best possible manner.
Unending progress. Every person and every occupation susceptible of
improvement, indefinitely. Doing well what is before us. Anecdote
illustrative of this principle. Personal duties. Two great classes of
persons described. Hopes of reaching the ears of the selfish.
I have already said that you are capable of never-ending progress in
knowledge and excellence, and that it is alike your interest and your
duty to aspire to that perfection for which God has given you
capabilities. The object of the present chapter is to kindle within you
a desire to make progress in every thing you do--to go on, as the
Scripture expresses it, to perfection.
"Whatever is worth doing, is worth doing well," is an old but true
maxim. More than even this might be affirmed. Whatever is worth doing
at all, is worth doing in the best possible manner. No matter how well
you have done the same thing heretofore; no matter how much more
perfectly you already do it than your neighbors. You are not to make
the past of your own experience, or the present of your neighbor's, the
measure of your conduct. The question is--How well can I perform this
particular act now?
Perhaps no person who reads these paragraphs, will doubt the truth of
the general principle I have laid down. Thus far, it may be said, all
seems to be correct. We are, indeed, bound to do every thing we do, to
the glory of God; and he can hardly be glorified in the doing of a
thing in a manner which is short of the best in our power.
Yet, when we come to apply the principle, and say in what particulars
we should strive to make progress and do better, from day to day, and
from hour to hour, (if the thing is to be performed so often,) many an
individual will be found, I fear, to stand back; and among those who
thus shrink from the just application of admitted principle, will be
found not a few who, till now, supposed they had within them a strong
desire for perpetual improvement.
It is, my young friends, no _trifling_ matter to have burning within a
hearty desire for eternal progress. It is no small thing to do whatever
our hands find to do, which it is fit that an intelligent being--one
who belongs to the family of Christ--_should_ do, in such a manner that
it will contribute to the glory of God, and the good of mankind.
And yet less than this, as Christians or even as rational and immortal
beings, we cannot do. I know, indeed, that many who profess to be the
disciples of Christ, actually do less than this. I know there are
hundreds and thousands who are called by his worthy name, and who seem
to be almost above the liability to do that which could be regarded as
positively wrong, who, nevertheless, are very far from striving to do
everything which their hands find to do _with all their might_--or, in
other words, as well as they possibly can. But it is to be hoped that
the standard of Christian character will ere long be much higher than
it is now.
It is of far less consequence _what_ we do in the world, my young
friends, than how well we do it. There is hardly a useful occupation
among us, in which a person may not be eminently serviceable to himself
and to mankind. There is hardly one in which we may not constantly
improve ourselves. There is hardly one which will not afford us the
means and opportunities of improving others. There is hardly an
occupation which may not itself be essentially improved.
I do not mean to say there is no choice in occupations, either as
regards pleasantness or usefulness. Nor do I mean to say, that neither
parents themselves nor their children, are ever to consult their own
natural preferences--their own likes and dislikes. All I aim at is, to
convince the young--especially the young woman--that the old couplet,
"Honor and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honor lies"--
is not so very far from the truth, as many suppose; and that happiness,
and even usefulness and excellence, are as little dependent on place
and condition, as honor and shame.
A mercantile man with whom I was once acquainted, gave me, in few
words, a very important lesson. He said he made it the rule of his life
to do, in the best possible manner, whatever at any time seemed, as a
subject of duty, to devolve upon him. No matter about his own likes or
dislikes--what appeared to be in the course of the dispensations of
Providence allotted him for the day, he performed with all his heart.
If he should conclude to pursue his present business for life, as the
means of procuring a livelihood, this would be the very best course of
preparation: if otherwise, it was the best under the circumstances; and
especially was it the best state of mental and moral discipline with
which he could be furnished.
To neglect the business before us because we are unhappy in it, or at
least not so happy as we fancy we might be in some other employment, is
to oppose the plans of Providence; nay, even to defeat our own purpose.
It is to disqualify ourselves, as fast as we can, for faithfulness, and
consequently for usefulness, in the employment we desire, should we
ever attain to it. The wisest course is, to do what our hands find
before them to do, provided it is lawful to do it at all, with all our
might.
The best possible preparation a young woman can have for a sphere of
action more congenial to her present feelings, is the one she now
occupies. She has, at least, duties to herself to perform. Let these,
as they recur, be performed in the best possible manner; and let the
utmost effort always be made to perform every thing a little better
than ever she performed it before--if it be but the washing of a few
cups, or the making of a bed. What her personal duties are, generally,
need not now be said: first, because many of them are obvious secondly,
because they will be treated of in their respective places. But it
should ever be borne in mind, that there is nothing ever so trifling,
which is worth doing at all, that may not be done better and better at
every repetition of the act; and that there is no occupation which may
not, in itself, be improved indefinitely.
Rising in the morning, devotion, personal ablutions, dressing,
breakfasting, exercise, employments, recreations, dining, conversation,
reading, reflection--all these, and a thousand other things which every
one, as a general rule, attends to--may be performed in a manner to
correspond more and more with the Scripture direction which has been
illustrated.
There are, in respect to what I am now mentioning, two classes of
persons in the world--of females as well as males; and they differ from
each other as widely, almost, as the world of happiness from the world
of misery. One of these classes lives to _receive_; is
selfish--supremely so. The other lives to _communicate_, more or
less--to do good--to make the world around it better. The last class is
benevolent.
A person of either class is not necessarily indolent or inactive; but
the end and aim of the labors of one, are _herself_; while the other
labors for God and mankind. The one procures honey from every
flower--formed by other hands--but not a flower does she ever raise by
the labor of her own hands, if she can possibly avoid it.
The one lives only to enjoy; the other, to be the continual cause of
joy, like her Creator. The latter has a source of happiness within; the
former depends for her happiness on others. Leave her alone, or amid a
frowning or even an indifferent world, and she is miserable.
Would that I could reach the ears of that numerous class who are
dependent on the world around them for their happiness--who never
originated any good, and are becoming more and more useless everyday!
Would that I could make them believe that true happiness is not to be
found externally, unless it first exist in their own bosoms! Would that
I could convince them that the royal road to happiness--if there be
one--is that which has been alluded to in the preceding paragraphs; in
making all persons and things around us better--in transmuting, as it
were, under the influence of the gospel, all coarser things around us
to "apples of gold in pictures of silver."
I long exceedingly to see our young women filled with the desire of
improvement--physical, social, intellectual and moral. I long to see
their souls glowing with the desire to go about doing good, like their
Lord and Master. Not, indeed, _literally_, as I shall have occasion to
say in another place. But I long to have their hearts expand to
overflowing with love to the world for whom Christ died; and I wish to
have some of the tears of their compassion fall on those over whom God
has given them an amazing, and often an unlimited influence.
Could I hope to reach a dozen minds, and warm a dozen hearts, which had
otherwise remained congealed, or at most received passively the little
stream of happiness which a naked, external world affords them, without
any corresponding efforts to form a world of their own--could I be the
means of enkindling in them that love for everlasting progress towards
perfection, which is so essential to the world's true happiness and
their own--could I thus aid in setting in motion an under-current which
should, in due time, restore to us Eden, in all its primitive, unfallen
beauty and excellence,--how should I be repaid for these labors!
I will dare to hope for the best. If I have the sacred fire burning in
my own bosom, I will hope to be the means of enkindling it in the bosom
of a few readers. If my own soul glows with love to a fallen world, I
will dare to hope that a few, at least, of those whose souls are more
particularly made for love and sympathy, will be led to the same source
of blessedness.
CHAPTER V.
SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
Vast extent of the science of self-knowledge. Spurious self knowledge.
Knowledge of our physical frame--its laws and relations. Examples of
the need of this knowledge. Instruments of obtaining it. The use of
lectures. Study of our peculiarities. Study of mental philosophy. The
Bible. How the Bible should be studied.
Self-knowledge is of the utmost importance to every human being. To no
person, however, is it more important than to the young woman.
It is the more necessary to urge the importance of self-knowledge, from
the fact that it is a species of knowledge which every one claims, and
which she would deem it almost a reflection upon her character to be
supposed not to possess; while it is that very knowledge of which
almost every one, of both sexes, is exceedingly ignorant.
Such an one "understands himself," is deemed quite a compliment among
our sex nor is it wholly disregarded by the other. But by this
expression is too often meant no more than a knowledge of the petty
acts and shifts, and I might say tricks, by means of which men and
women contrive to pass current in the fashionable world. How much this
kind of self-acquaintance is worth, is too obvious to need illustration.
I have represented a just self-knowledge as of very great importance;
but it is a science of vast extent, as well as of vast importance. A
thorough knowledge of one's self includes, first, a knowledge of man in
general, in his whole character--compounded as it is--and in all his
relations to surrounding beings and things; and, secondly, a knowledge
of the peculiarities produced by particular circumstances, condition,
mode of life, education and habits.
She who merely understands all the little arts to which I have alluded,
which enable us to pass current with a fashionable and grossly wicked
world, will find her self-knowledge exceedingly small, when she comes
to compare it with the standard of self-acquaintance set up by such
writers as Mason, Burgh, Watts, &c.; and, above all, when she comes to
compare it with the standard of the Bible. How little, nay, how
contemptible will all mere worldly arts and shifts appear--things which
at most belong to the department of manners--when she comes to
understand her three-fold nature, as exhibited by the natural and
revealed laws of Jehovah!
The Subjects of Anatomy, Physiology and Hygiene alone--and they teach
us little more than the laws and relations of the mere body or shell of
the human being--are almost sufficient for the study of a long life;
and yet no individual can ever thoroughly understand herself without
them: it is impossible. Anatomy shows us the _structure_ of this body,
which the Psalmist, long ago, taught us was fearfully and wonderfully
made. Physiology teaches us the _laws_ by which the living machine
operates--is kept in play for seventy, eighty, or a hundred years; and
Hygiene teaches us the _relations_ of the living, moving human body to
surrounding beings and objects. This, indeed, is a knowledge which few
young women possess; and yet it is a knowledge which no young woman,
who would do her utmost in the work of self-education, can dispense
with.
She wishes, perhaps, to improve her voice by conversation, reading and
singing. But is she qualified to do this in the best possible manner,
while she is wholly ignorant of the structure of the lungs, the
wind-pipe, and the fauces, as they are called--parts so intimately
concerned in the production of voice and speech?
She wishes, perhaps, to develope and invigorate her muscular system in
the highest possible degree; but how can she do this, while she knows
almost nothing of the nature or power of the muscular fibre?
She wishes to develope and cultivate her intellectual powers; to
acquire "firmness of nerve and energy of thought." But how can she do
it, if she is ignorant of the situation and functions of the cerebral
and nervous system--that wonderful organ of the intellect?
She would train her eye in the best possible manner; but how can she do
so, if she is ignorant of the nature and powers of that wonderful
little organ? She would educate, properly, all her senses; but how can
she do it, without a knowledge of their structure, functions and
relations?
Perhaps she would study the philosophy of dress, and of eating and
drinking. How can she do so, till she understands, intimately, the
relation of the human system to air, heat, the various kinds of food,
drink, &c.?
She would know, still further, the relation of body to mind, and of
mind to body--of body and mind to spirit, and of spirit to body and
mind. She would study the particular effect of one passion, or faculty,
or affection, upon the body, or upon particular functions of the bodily
system--and the more remote or more immediate effects of diseases of a
bodily organ on mind and spirit. She must know all this, and a thousand
times, yea, ten thousand times as much, before she is qualified to go
far in the work of self-knowledge.
But she must go beyond even all this, and study her own peculiarities.
It is not sufficient to understand the general laws and relations of
the human economy; she must understand herself in her own individual
character--physically, intellectually and morally. She must understand
the peculiarities of her physical frame, of her mental structure, and
of her spiritual condition--her relation to other spirits, particularly
to the Father of spirits.
How amazing and how extensive--I repeat it--the science of
self-knowledge! To be perfect in it we need the life of a Methuselah!
But something may be done, even in the short period of seventy years.
And if it be but little that we can do in a life time, this
consideration only enhances the value of that little.
Something, I have said, may be done in the short period of seventy
years. But I might say more. Something may be done in a single day. And
years are made up of days. A little done, every day, amounts to much in
a whole year.
Let not the individual despair who can get but one new idea respecting
herself, in a day. If she can sit down at quiet evening and say, I know
something respecting myself which I did not know last night at this
time, let her be assured the day is not lost. One idea a day is three
hundred and sixty-five a year; and three hundred and sixty-five a year,
amount, in seventy years, to twenty-five thousand five hundred and
fifty. There _are_ those who can hardly be said, at seventy years of
age, to have twenty-five thousand five hundred and fifty ideas in their
heads.
It is a matter of joy to every friend of self-knowledge, that so many
means have been, of late years, devised to facilitate the study of this
science. The lectures which have been given to both sexes on the
structure, laws and relations of their bodily constitution, and the
books which have been written, have made a considerable change in the
state of the public sentiment respecting this species of knowledge. For
it is not they alone who have heard or read, that have reaped the
benefit of hearing and reading on this subject. Many a parent or
teacher, aware that such instructions and books were abroad, has been
encouraged to the performance of that which she might not have dared to
do, had nothing been said or done to encourage her.
Every young woman should, therefore, study these subjects for herself.
Such books as those of Miss Sedgwick--her "Poor Rich Man, and Rich Poor
Man," and her "Means and Ends"--will prepare the way, or will at least
enkindle the desire, for the kind of knowledge of which I am speaking.
She will then desire to read the works of the Combes, and perhaps, ere
long, some of the other popular books of our day, which treat of
Physiology and Hygiene. May I not venture to hope, that at an early
stage of her progress, some of the chapters of _this_ book will be
found serviceable, as well as several other works I have prepared,
especially the little volume called the "House I Live In?"
She who, having a hearty desire for improvement in self-knowledge, on
an extended scale, lets her years pass without looking into any of the
volumes or treatises to which I have referred, can hardly be said to
act up to the dignity of a Christian of the nineteenth century.
But it is not the physical department of her nature alone, that she who
has the desire for self-knowledge and self-progress, should study. Such
works as those of Mason on Self-Knowledge, Burgh on the Dignity of
Human Nature, Watts on the Mind, Opie on Detraction and Scandal,
Wayland on Moral Science, Skinner on the Religion of the Bible, &c.
&c., should not only be perused, but carefully studied. It is to little
purpose, that is, comparatively, that our physical nature is
attentively and assiduously studied and cultivated, if it lead not to
the more intimate and more earnest study of the immortal spirit.
In this better department--the spiritual--permit me, _once_ more, to
direct your attention to the Bible. It should be studied chiefly
without note or comment. Your own good sense, brought to bear upon its
simple, unstudied, unscholastic pages, accompanied by that light from
on high which is ever vouchsafed to the simple, humble inquirer and
learner, will be of more value to you than all the notes, and
commentaries, and dictionaries in the world, without it. It is a book
which is most admirably adapted to the progress of all grades of
mind--those which are but little developed, no less than those which
are more highly cultivated. Other books speak to the intellect--to the
head; this speaks to the heart. Other books often plead for human
nature; this presents it just as it is--its perversity and deformity on
the one side; its susceptibilities to improvement, its capability of
excellency, on the other. Though it reveals to us our humble
origin--the brotherhood of worms--on the one side, it unveils to us our
relation to angels and archangels, on the other. Nay, more; it not only
shows us our relation to the celestial hosts, and to Him who presides
in their midst, but it points out to the penitent and the humble, the
road which, through divine grace, will conduct them thither.
I have spoken of the study of the Bible without note or comment. Notes
and comments, indeed, after you have made diligent use of all your own
faculties and powers, and sought thereon the blessing of God's Spirit,
have their use. I am exceedingly fond of them: and I would not wholly
deny to you what I am so fond of myself. The danger is, of leaning upon
them too much. Scott, and Clarke, and Henry, and Jenks, and Calmet, and
Barnes, and Bush, may help to show me the true way of finding out and
interpreting the Scripture for myself; but if I go farther, and either
indolently or superstitiously suffer them to interpret it for me, it
were almost better that I had not sought their aid. But the Bible, with
or without notes, is--I repeat it--the great volume of self-knowledge
which I urge you to study, and which, in comparison with all the books
written by man, and even the great volume of nature herself, is alone
able to make you wise to salvation.
It seems to me to have been too seldom observed, and still more seldom
insisted on, how apt the love and study of the Bible are to awaken the
dormant intellectual faculties, and to enkindle, even in the aged, a
desire for general improvement. On this point, Mr. Foster, in his essay
on Popular Ignorance, has some very striking remarks. In alluding to
that great moral change which it is one object of the Bible to produce,
and to the consequences which often immediately follow, he thus remarks:
"It is exceedingly striking to observe how the contracted, rigid soul
seems to soften, and grow warm, and expand, and quiver with life. With
the new energy infused, it painfully struggles to work itself into
freedom from the wretched contortion in which it has been so long
fixed, as by the impressed spell of infernal magic."
This change in the moral and religious man, has been often observed;
and Mr. Foster, therefore, tells us nothing very new, however striking
it may be. But now for the secondary effect which is produced on the
intellect, and, indeed, on the whole character:
"It (the soul) has been seen filled with a painful and indignant
emotion at its own ignorance; actuated with a restless desire to be
informed; acquiring an unwonted applicableness of its faculties to
thought; attaining a perception combined of intelligence and moral
sensibility, to which numerous things are becoming discernible and
affecting, that were as non-existent before. We have known instances in
which the change--the intellectual change--has been so conspicuous,
within a brief space of time, that even an infidel observer must have
forfeited all claim to a man of sense, if he would not make the
acknowledgment--This that you call divine grace, whatever it may really
be, is the strangest awakener of faculties, after all."
I have made this quotation, chiefly to confirm the sentiment I have
advanced, that the love of the Bible and the religion of the Bible,
actuates the soul with "a restless desire to be informed," and
stimulates its faculties to thought, and fills it with pain and
indignation at its own ignorance. This is the state of mind and heart
which I would gladly encourage in the reader. It is the truest and best
foundation of all progress, not only in self-knowledge, but in every
other sort of knowledge which is valuable. Give me but this trait of
character in a young woman, and I will not despair of her, however low
may be her present condition, or how degraded soever may have been her
former life. Give me but a hearty desire, a hungering and thirsting for
improvement--physical, moral, intellectual, social and religious--and I
will dare to believe that the most debased and depressed soul _may_ be
restored, at least in some good measure, to that likeness to Jehovah in
which it was originally created.
One thing more, however, should be remembered. Not a few who really
have within them the desire of improvement, and who mean to make the
Bible and its doctrines their standard, fail of accomplishing much
after all. The reason is, they measure themselves, continually, by
their neighbors. If they are no more ignorant or no more vicious than
their neighbors--Misses S. and L., perhaps--or on the other hand, if
they are as wise and as virtuous as Miss R.--they seem to rest
satisfied. Or at any rate, if, they make as much progress in the great
path of self-knowledge, or do as much good in the world as the latter,
they are anxious for no more, and settle down in inaction.
Now every such individual ought to know that the habit of measuring
herself by others, in this way, will hang like a millstone about her
neck; and if it do not drown her in the depths of ignorance and
imbecility, will at least make her forever a child, in comparison with
what she should be. It will keep her grovelling on the earth's surface,
when she ought to be exploring the highest heavens. It will keep her a
near neighbor to the sisterhood of worms on which she treads, when she
ought to be soaring towards those lofty heights which Gabriel once
traversed--nay, which he even now traverses--fast by the throne of the
Eternal.
Let her not stop, then, to demean, and embarrass, and fetter herself by
comparisons of herself with any thing finite. She has no right to do
this. The perfection which the word of God requires, is the standard or
measure by which she should compare herself. She may, indeed, sometimes
compare herself with herself--her present self with her past
self--provided it be done with due humility; but let her beware of
measuring herself by others. Such a course is as perilous as it is
ignoble and unprofitable.
CHAPTER VI.
CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.
Is there any conscientiousness in the world? How far conscientiousness
should extend. Tendency and power of habit Evils of doing incessantly
what we know to be wrong. Why we do this. Errors of early education.
False standard of right and wrong. Bad method of family discipline.
Palsy of the moral sensibilities. Particular direction in regard to the
education of the conscience. Results which may be expected.
There is such a want of conscientiousness among mankind, even among
those who are professedly good people, that one might almost be
pardoned for concluding that there is either no conscience in the
world, or that the heavenly monitor is at least no where fully obeyed.
For is there not too much foundation for such a conclusion?
While truth compels us to admit that Christianity has already done much
to awaken the consciences of men, we shall gain nothing by shutting our
eyes to the vast influence it has yet to exert, before mankind will
become what they ought to be.
Most people are conscientious in _some_ things. They may have been so
trained, for instance, that they are quite tender in regard to the
feelings of others, and even those of animals. There are many who, with
Cowper, "would not enter on their list of friends the man who
needlessly sets foot upon a worm," who are yet very far from possessing
much real conscientiousness. Their feeling is better entitled to the
name of _sympathy_.
I grant that many of these persons possess something more than mere
tenderness or sympathy. Not a few of them are truly conscientious in
what may be called the larger concerns of life--especially in external
religion. They not only feel the force of conscience, but they obey her
voice in some things. They would not fail to attend to all the outward
rites of religion in the most faithful manner, on any account whatever;
and if a failure should occur, would find their consciences reproaching
them in the severest manner, for their departures from a known standard
of duty.
These persons regard, with a considerable degree of conscientiousness,
the law of the land and the law of public opinion, or at least the law
of fashion. In respect to any thing which would subject them to the
severity of public remark, or which would even be regarded by the
coarse, public eye, as glaringly inconsistent with their religious
character, they are never wanting in sensibility. Their consciences
reproach them, when they have done or said any thing which may cause
them to be ill spoken of.
Thus far, it cannot be denied that there is a great deal of
conscientiousness in the world. But beyond limits something like these,
it is much more rare than many suppose. To say that it does not exist
beyond such narrow limits, would be unjust; but it must be admitted
that, taking the world at large, its existence is so rare, as hardly to
entitle it to the name of a living, moving, breathing principle of
action.
I do not suppose that young women are less conscientious than young
men; nor that the young of either sex are less conscientious than their
seniors. It would be a novel if not unheard of thing, to find the youth
without conscience, merging, in due time, into the conscientious
octogenarian. The contrary is the more common course.
And yet how few are the young women who make it a matter of conscience
to perform every thing they do--the smaller no less than the larger
matters of life--in such a way as to meet the approbation of an
internal monitor. Do they not generally bow to the tribunal of a
fashionable world? Do they generally care sufficiently, in the every
day actions, words, thoughts and feelings of their lives, what God's
vicegerent in the soul says about their conduct?--or if they _do_ care,
is it because it is right or wrong in the sight of God--or of _man_?
A due regard to the authority of conscience would lead people, as it
seems to me, to yield obedience to her dictates on every occasion. They
who disregard her voice in one thing, are likely to do so in others.
Who does not know the power of habit? Who will deny that the individual
who habitually disregards the voice speaking within, on a particular
subject will be likely, ere long, to extend the same habit of disregard
to something else; and thus on to the end of the chapter, if any end
there be to it?
No one, it is believed, will doubt that I have rightly described the
tendency of habit in large matters. He who would allow himself to steal
from day to day, unmindful of the voice within which bids him beware,
would not only, ere long, if unmolested, come to a point at which
conscience would cease to reproach him, but would be likely to venture
upon other kinds of wrong. I have seen those who would habitually steal
small things, and yet would not tell a lie for the world. But I have
known the habit of stealing continue till lying also gradually came to
be a habit, and was scarcely thought of as offensive in the sight of
God, or as positively wrong in the nature of things, any more than
picking up a basket of pebbles. From lying, the natural transition is
to profanity--and so on, till conscience, chased up and down like the
last lonely deer of a forest, at length exhausted, faints and dies.
Few, I say, will deny the tendency and power of habit, in regard to the
larger matters of life. But is it sufficiently known that every act
which can possibly be regarded as fraudulent in the smallest degree,
has the same tendency?
There are a thousand things that people do, which cannot be set down as
absolutely criminal, in the view of human law, or human courts, and
which are not forbidden in any particular chapter or verse of the
divine law, which, notwithstanding, are forbidden by the spirit of both.
Human law, no less than divine law, requires us to love our neighbor as
ourselves. Is the law obeyed when we make the smallest approach to
taking that advantage of a neighbor, which we would not like to have
taken of us in similar circumstances?
Those who admit and seem to understand the power of habit in larger
matters, are yet prone to forget the tendency of an habitual disregard
of right and wrong in small matters. They are by no means ignorant,
that large rivers are made up of springs, and rills, and brooks; but
they do not seem to consider that the larger stream of
conscientiousness must also be fed by its thousand tributaries, or it
will never flow; or once flowing, will be likely soon to cease. In
other words, to be conscientious--truly so--in the larger and more
important concerns of life, we must be habitually, and I had almost
said religiously so, in smaller matters--in our most common and every
day concerns.
Would that nothing worse were true, than that people of all ranks and
professions, and of all ages and conditions, habitually, and with less
and less compunction or regret, do that which they know they ought not
to do, and leave undone that which they very well know ought to be
done. For they even seem to justify themselves in it.
"I know the right, and I approve it too;
I know the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue"--
is the language of many an individual--even of some from whom we could
hope better things; and not a few charge it upon the frailty of fallen
nature--as that nature now is--independent of, and in spite of their
own efforts! Strange infatuation!
One way of solving this great riddle in human life and conduct--this
incessant doing by mankind of that which they know they ought not to
do, and neglecting to do that which they know ought to be done--may be
found in the fact that so few are trained to regard, in every thing,
the sacred rights of conscience. They are referred to other and more
questionable standards of authority.
If you do so and so, you will never be a lady, says a mother who wishes
to dissuade her young daughter from doing something to which she is
inclined. If you behave so, every body will laugh at you, says another.
If you do not obey me, I shall punish you, says a third. If you don't
do that, I shall tell mother, says a young brother or sister. If you do
not do it, father will give you no sugar toys, when he comes home, the
child is again told. If you don't mind me, the bears will come and eat
you up, says the petulant nurse or maid-servant. Thus, in one way or
another, and at one time or another, every motive--love, fear,
selfishness, pleasure, &c.--is appealed to in the education of the
young, except that which should be _chiefly_ appealed to--viz.,
self-approbation, or the approbation of conscience.
This is not all. There is with many of these people no settled rule as
to which sort of actions are to be the subjects of praise or of blame.
A thing which must not be done to-day, on penalty of the loss of the
forthcoming sugar toys, is connived at, perhaps with a kiss, to-morrow.
All in the child's mind is confusion; she knows not what to do, were
she as docile and as obedient as an angel of light. There is a long
series of actions, words, thoughts and feelings, connected with right
and wrong, of which nothing is ever said, except to forbid them, by
stern and absolute authority. That one is good, and another bad, except
according to the whim or fancy of the parent or teacher, the child
never suspects.
Of this last class are almost all the actions of every-day life. The
child alluded to is scolded, at times, for default in matters which
pertain to rising, dressing, saying prayers, eating, drinking, playing,
speaking, running, teazing, or soiling its clothes or books, and a
thousand things too familiar to every one to render it necessary to
repeat.
Perhaps she eats too much, or eats greedily; or she inclines to be
slovenly, or indolent, or fretful. Now all these things are in general
merely forbidden or _rated_, or at most, shown to be contrary to the
will of the parents. They are seldom or never shown to be right or
wrong, in their own nature; nor is the child assured, upon the
authority of the parent, that there is a natural right or wrong to
them. Thus, what is not implanted, does not, of course, grow. All the
little actions and concerns of life, or almost all--and these, by their
number and frequent recurrence, make up almost the whole of a child's
existence--are, as it were, left wholly without the domain of
conscience; and the young woman grows up to maturity without a distinct
conviction that conscience has any thing to do with them.
And "what is bred in the bone," according to a vulgar maxim, "stays
long in the flesh." As is the child, so is the adult. It is one of the
most difficult things in the world to make a person conscientious in
all things, who has not been trained to be so. Hence the great
difficulty in the way of making every-day Christians. Our religion is
thought by some to have nothing to do with these ever-recurring small
matters. And when we are told that we should do every thing to the
honor and glory of God, although we may assent to the proposition, it
is hard to put it in practice. There is a sort of moral palsy
prevailing in the community--and that, too, very extensively.
No fatal error of early education could have seized more firmly, or
palsied more effectually the moral sensibilities of the whole
community, than this. And therefore it is certain that this is at least
one principal reason why there is so little conscience in the world,
and why it is so often a starveling wherever it is found to exist.
I have heard an eminent teacher contend with much earnestness, that
there is a great multitude of the smaller actions of human life which
are destitute of character--wholly so. They are, he says, neither right
nor wrong. But if so, then is there no responsibility attached to them;
and, consequently, no conscientiousness required in connection with
their due performance. But what, in that case, is to become of the
injunction of a distinguished apostle, when he says, WHATEVER you do,
do all to the glory of God? If every thing we do should be done to the
glory of God, and not thus to do it, is to disobey a righteous precept,
then there is a right and wrong in every thing. Now which shall we
believe--the human teacher or the divine?
This origin of a common error, I have deemed it necessary for every
young woman to understand, that she may know how to apply the
correction, and where to begin. She should love and respect her
parents, even if they belong to the class which has been described. She
should consider the present imperfect state of human nature, and be
thankful for the thousand benefits she has received at their hands, and
the various means of improvement within her reach.
If she has drank deeply of the desire for improvement, and if she
wishes to know and to reform herself as fast as possible, let her begin
by cultivating, to the highest possible degree, a sense of right and
wrong, and an implicit and unwavering obedience to the right.
Before closing this chapter, however, I wish to present a few
illustrations of my meaning, when I say that every thing should be done
in a conscientious manner. Perhaps, indeed, I am already sufficiently
understood; but lest I should not be by all, I subjoin the following.
Suppose a young woman is in the habit of lying in bed late in the
morning. In view of her varied responsibilities and of the vast
importance of rising early, and with a strong desire for continual
improvement, she sets herself to change the habit.
Now to aid her in her task--for it is no light one--let her endeavor to
consider the whole matter. God gives us sleep, she will perhaps say to
herself, for the restoration of our bodies and minds; and all the time
really necessary for this is well employed. But I have found that I
feel better, and actually enjoy myself better, for the whole day
following, when, by accident or by any other means, I have slept an
hour less than I am accustomed to do. I usually sleep nine hours or
more, whereas I am quite sure eight are sufficient for every reasonable
purpose.
Moreover, if I sleep an hour too much, that hour is wasted. Have I a
right to waste it? It is God's gift; is it not slighting his gift, to
spend it in sleep? Is it not a sin? And to do so day after day and year
after year, is it not to make myself exceedingly guilty in his sight?
One hour, daily saved for the purpose of reading or study, after a
person has really slept enough, is equal, in sixteen years, to the
addition of a full year to one's life. Can it be that I waste, in
sleep, in fifteen or sixteen years, a whole year of time?
I must do so no longer. It injures my complexion; it injures my health;
it is an indolent practice: but above all, it is a sin against God.
I am resolved to redeem my time. And to aid me in this work, I am
determined, if I fail in any instance, to remember this decision, and
the grounds on which it was made.
She carries out her decision. She finds herself waking too late,
occasionally, it is true. However, she not only hurries out of bed the
instant she wakes, but recalls her former view of the sinfulness of her
conduct. She is no sooner dressed, than she asks pardon for her
transgression, and prays that she may transgress no more. This course
she continues; and thus her convictions of the sinfulness of her former
indolent habit and waste of time are deepened. At length, by her
persevering efforts and the assistance of God, she gains the victory,
and a new and better habit is completely established.
Just so should it be with any other bad habit. Every young woman should
consider it as a sin against God, and should begin the work of
reformation as a duty, not only to herself and to others, but also and
more especially to God. If it be nothing but the error of eating too
much--which, by the way, is not so small an error as many seem to
suppose--let her try to regard it in its true light, as a transgression
against the laws of God. Let it be so regarded, not merely once or
twice, but habitually. In this way it will soon become--as in the case
of early rising--a matter of conscience.
The close of the day, however, is a specially important season for
cultivating the habit of conscientiousness. Sleep is the image of
death, as some have said; and if so, we may consider ourselves at
bed-time, as standing on the borders of the grave, where all things
should look serious.
The "cool of the day" is peculiarly adapted to reflection. Let every
one, at this time, recall the circumstances of the day, and consider
wherein things have been wrong. It was a sacred rule among the
Pythagoreans, every evening, to run thrice over, in their minds, the
events of the day; and shall Christians do less than heathen?
The Pythagoreans did more than cultivate a habit of recalling their
errors; they asked themselves what good they had done. So should we. We
should remember that it is not only sinful to do wrong, but that it is
also sinful to _omit to do right_. The young woman who fears she has
said something in regard to a fellow being in a certain place, or in
certain company, which she ought not to have said, as it may do that
person injury, should remember, that not to have said something, when a
favorable opportunity offered, which might have done a companion or
neighbor good, was also equally wrong. And above all, she should
remember, that both the _commission_ and the _omission_ were sins
against that God who gave her a tongue to do good with, and not to do
harm; and not only to do good with, but to do the greatest possible
amount of good.
In short, it should be the constant practice of every one who has the
love of eternal improvement strongly implanted in her bosom, to
consider every action performed, during the day, as sinful, when it has
not been done in the best possible manner, whether it may have been one
thing or another. As I have stated repeatedly elsewhere, there is
nothing worth doing at all, which should not be done to the honor and
glory of God; and she who would attain to the highest measure of
perfection, should regard nothing as done in this manner, which is not
done exactly as God her Saviour would have it done.
It is desirable not only to avoid benumbing or searing over the
conscience, but that we should cultivate it to the highest possible
tenderness. True, these tender consciences are rather _troublesome_;
but is it not better that they should torture us a little now, than a
great deal hereafter?
I have said that some good people--that is, those who are comparatively
good--fall short in this matter. A young woman is a teacher, perhaps,
in a Sabbath school. She knows, full well, the importance of attending
promptly at the appointed hour; and she makes it a point thus to
attend. At last she fails, on a single occasion--not from necessity,
but from negligence, or at least from want of due care--and her
conscience at once reproaches her for her conduct. But, ere long, the
offence is repeated. The reproaches of her conscience, though still
felt, have become less keen. The offence is repeated, again and again,
till conscience is almost seared over--and the omission of what had at
first given great pain, almost ceases to be troublesome. And thus the
conscience, having been blunted in one respect, is more liable to be so
in others. Alas for the individual, who is thus, from day to day,
growing worse, and yet from day to day becoming less sensible of it!
But there is a worse case than I have yet mentioned. A young woman has
risen rather late on Sunday morning; and having risen late, other
things are liable to be late. The hour for church is at length near;
the bell is even ringing. Something in the way of dress, not very
necessary except to comply with fashion, and yet on the whole
desirable, remains to be done during the remaining five minutes; but
what is more important still, the habit of secret prayer for five
minutes before going to church, is uncomplied with. One of these, the
closet or the dress, must be neglected for want of time. Does any one
doubt which it will be? Does any one doubt that the dress will receive
the desired attention, and that the closet will be neglected?
But does any one suppose that conscientiousness can live and flourish
where it is not only not cultivated, but habitually violated, in regard
to the most sacred matters? Secret prayer is one of the most sacred
duties; and they who habitually neglect or violate it, for the salve of
doing that which is of secondary importance--knowing it to be so--are
not only taking the sure course to eradicate all conscientiousness from
their bosoms, but are most manifestly preferring the world to God, and
the love and service of the world, to the love and service of its
glorious Creator and Redeemer.
Let me say, in concluding this chapter, that if the conscience is
cultivated from day to day, it will, in time, acquire a degree of
tenderness and accuracy to which most of the world are entire
strangers. There is, however, one thing more, Conscience will not only
become more tender and faithful, but her _domain_ will be much enlarged
by the study of the Bible; and in many cases is which this heavenly
monitor was once silent, she will now utter her warning voice.
Conscience is not unalterable, as some suppose she is susceptible of
elevation as long as we live; and happy is the individual who elevates
her to her rightful throne. Happy is the individual who sees things
most nearly as God sees them, and whose conscience condemns her in
every thing which is contrary to the divine will.
CHAPTER VII.
SELF-GOVERNMENT.
What self-government includes. Cheerfulness a duty. Discretion.
Modesty. Diffidence. Courage. Vigilance. Thoughts and feelings. The
affections. The temper. The appetites and passions.
This is so broad a subject that I shall present my thoughts concerning
it under several different heads. It includes, in my estimation, the
government of the THOUGHTS, the IMAGINATION, the TEMPER, the
AFFECTIONS, and the APPETITES. The young woman who truly governs
herself, will be at once _cheerful, discreet, modest, diffident,
vigilant, courageous, active, temperate_ and _happy_.
Cheerfulness.--Is cheerfulness within our power? some may be inclined
to ask. I certainly regard it so. That there are moments of our
lives--nay, even considerable seasons--when cheerfulness is not
required, may, indeed, be true. Our friends sicken and die, and we
mourn for them. This is a law of our nature. Even our Saviour was, at
times, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; though of all
individuals in the universe cheerfulness was his right. But he bore
more than his own sorrows; and in so far as his example is, in this
respect, binding upon us, it is only when we bear the sorrows of
others. Those should, indeed, often be borne; and in proportion as they
are borne--in proportion as we are wounded for the transgressions, and
bruised for the iniquities of others--it may not be possible for us to
be continually cheerful.
As for our own sorrows--the sufferings, the pangs, the bereavements of
our own existence--we should never cease to regard them, in some
measure, at least, as the chastisements of an Almighty Father. Smitten
friends, according to the sentiment of a distinguished poet, are
messengers of mercy to us--are sent on errands full of love.
"For us they sicken, and for us they die."
We should be at least resigned, even under such chastisements, when we
remember they are inflicted by a Father's hand.
But setting aside occasions of this kind, is there not a demand on our
whole nature, for general cheerfulness? It is not only the "sunshine of
the soul," but that of the body. The truly cheerful are not only
happier in their minds and spirits, but also in their very bodies. The
brain and nervous system play their part in the great drama of physical
life better; the heart, and stomach, and lungs, work better. Indeed,
all is better throughout.
Is not that a duty which is productive of so much happiness? But can
that be a duty which it is not in our power to perform? It were surely
an impeachment of the wisdom and goodness of God, did he require us, in
his providence or in his word--by his natural or his revealed law--to
do that of which we are incapable.
I consider cheerfulness, then, as a matter of duty; and, of course, as
in a great measure in our power. It makes us happier ourselves; it
enables us to reflect more happiness on others. I consider it
especially as a duty of the young, who have it in their power to
communicate happiness thereby in such large measure. Let them--let
young women especially--strive to cultivate it. It is in its nature a
perennial plant; and if it is not such at the present time, it is
because it has degenerated in a degenerate world. Let it be restored to
its pristine beauty; and let the world thereby--in connection with
other means tending to the same end--be restored to what it was before
the loss of Eden.
Discretion.--This is a virtue with which, it is supposed by some, the
young have little if any thing to do. I cannot assent to such an
opinion. I believe that the young are to be trained in the way they
should go; and as discretion is prominently a virtue of middle and
later life, I deem it desirable that we should see at least the germs
of it in the young.
Above all, do I like to see the young woman discreet. Discretion not
only heightens the pleasures of her existence, but adds greatly to her
reputation in the just estimation of the wise. Coupled with modesty, of
which I am to speak presently, it more than doubles her charms.
Let discretion then be studied. Let it be studied, too, for its
immediate as well as remote benefits. It will, indeed, bear fruit more
abundantly in later life; but it will not be without its value in
youth. It is a plant which it were worth while to cultivate, if human
existence were more frail, and life more uncertain of continuance than
it now is.
MODESTY.--Of all the qualities appropriate to young women, I know of
none which is more universally esteemed than modesty. And what has
been, by common consent, so highly esteemed, I cannot find it in my
heart to under-value. Indeed, I do not think it has ever been
over-valued, or that it can be.
I have been somewhat amused--not to say instructed--by the following
remarks on this trait of female character, from the pen of one who is,
not only a philosopher, but a physiologist. [Footnote: Alexander
Walker, the author of several British works connected with the subject
of physical education and physical improvement.] They are not the more
interesting, perhaps, because they are somewhat new; but neither are
they less so. As I have nothing else to say on this topic, which has
not been said a thousand times, I transcribe the more freely, the
thoughts of the author to whom I refer.
"Modesty establishes an equilibrium between the superiority of man and
the delicacy of woman; it enables woman to insure thereby for herself,
a supporter--a defender. And while man thus barters his protection for
love, woman is a match for his power; and the weaker, to a great
extent, governs the stronger."
"It is probable that modesty derives its cause in woman, from a certain
mistrust in her own merit, and from the fear of finding herself below
that very affection which she is capable of exciting, and of which she
is the object. ... Modesty compels her love to assume that form by
which nature has taught her so universally to express it--that of
gratitude, friendship, &c. ... Modesty is a means of attraction with
which nature inspires all females."
Under this head I will just add, that since by modesty the weaker
govern the stronger, it is of immense importance that woman should know
the true secret of maintaining her power and also by what means she is
likely to jeopardize that power. And without undertaking to determine
what shall be the precise rules of female action, and the precise
limits of the sphere within which the Author of her nature designed she
should move, is it not worth the serious inquiry, whether she does not,
as a general fact, lose influence the moment she departs widely from
the province which God in nature seems to have allotted her; when, like
a Woolstoncroft, or a Wright, or others still of less painful
notoriety, she mounts the rostrum, and becomes the centre of gaping,
perhaps admiring thousands of the other sex, as well as of her own. So
did not the excellent women of Galilee, eighteen hundred years ago;
although they were engaged, heart and hand, in a cause than which none
could be more glorious, or afford a greater triumph, especially to
their own sex. They probably knew too well their power, to endanger it
thus in the general scale; or if not, they probably yielded to the
impulses of a spirit which could direct them in a path more congenial
to their own nature, as well as on the whole more conducive to their
own emancipation, elevation and perfection.
DIFFIDENCE.--This trait, though nearly related to modesty, is far from
being the same thing, its character having been more frequently brought
in question than that of modesty. And yet it seems to me equally
valuable. It gilds what modesty graces; and polishes what modesty
improves.
Let not the reader confound modesty and bashfulness; for they are by no
means the same thing. Modesty is as much opposed to impudence as any
thing can be; and yet it is certain that impudence is often conjoined
with bashfulness. Not so often, to be sure, in the female sex, as in
our own; and yet such a phenomenon is occasionally witnessed, even in
woman.
Bashfulness is usually the result of too low an estimate of ourselves;
whereas, true diffidence only leads us to value ourselves according to
our real worth. Diffidence makes us humble, but bashfulness sometimes
makes us mean; at least, there is danger of it. It is, at all events,
of doubtful utility; and though I would not denounce or condemn it, I
would urge the young to endeavor to rise far above it.
But I repeat it--I would endeavor to cultivate and encourage every
thing which belongs to true diffidence. It will assist modesty in
performing her angelic office; and the influence of both, united, may
save from many a pang in this world, and perhaps prove a means, under
God, of preventing the sentence of condemnation in the world to come.
COURAGE.--By courage I do not mean that trait for which man is
constitutionally as much distinguished, as woman is for the want of it
I mean not a courage to meet and surmount physical difficulties, and
encounter outward and physical dangers. I mean, on the contrary, that
moral courage which is neither confined to sex nor condition.
Not that physical courage is to be despised, even by females. On the
contrary, I think it is a trait of character which is quite too much
neglected in female education. It is not only lamentable, but pitiable,
to see a female of twenty, thirty, or fifty years of age, shrinking at
the sight of a spider, or a toad, even when there is not the smallest
prospect of its coming within three yards of her. Nor is it as it
should be, when a young woman, already eighteen or twenty years of age,
has such a dread of pigs and cows, as to scream aloud at the sight of
one in a field, so well enclosed that it is not possible her safety
could be endangered were the animal ever so malicious. Such
unreasonable and foolish fears ought by no means to be encouraged; on
the contrary, she who finds herself a slave to them, ought to suppress
them as fast as possible.
This is, indeed, an important but much neglected part of female
education; and she who is a sufferer therefrom, will do well to derive
a hint from these pages. The unreasonable fears of which I speak, are
by no means confined to the sight of toads, or spiders, or pigs, or
cows. We find them more or less frequently, and in some form or other,
in nearly every family. Some are unreasonably afraid of dogs and
horses; others, of cats or snakes; others, again, of the dark, or of
being alone by night or by day.
Let me not be understood as saying that no tears are to be indulged, in
regard to any of these things; it is only an unreasonable and foolish
degree of fear, that should be guarded against. A cow or a horse
feeding quietly in a pasture, and separated from you by a stout fence,
which no animal in any ordinary circumstances is wont to leap, is not a
proper object of fear with a rational person over twelve years of age.
If a cow or horse is running at large in the highway, and appears
fearless of man, or furious, or if mad dogs are about, enough of fear
may reasonably be indulged to keep you from the streets, and confine
you to your home, unless you have suitable protection.
But as I have already said, it is _moral_ courage that I would inspire
in the young woman. She has patience, and perseverance, and
fortitude--why then may she not add to these, moral courage? What man
has done, man may do--has been a thousand times said; and the remark is
not less applicable to woman than to man. What woman has done, woman
may do. But woman, in numerous instances, has possessed moral courage.
She has been known, more than once, to "face a frowning world," or to
oppose some of its tyrant fashions. I could mention more than one who
has thus evinced true moral courage, and set her sex a glorious
example, which not a few of my readers might do well to follow.
Let woman dare to do right--whether fashionable or unfashionable. Let
her dare to do so in the smaller no less than in the larger matters of
life. Let her dare to obey God, and the laws of God, both natural and
revealed--both within and around her--rather than the laws of any man
or set of men. Let her do this, and she will evince true moral courage;
a courage as far surpassing the highest efforts of physical courage of
prowess, as right surpasses might; virtue, vice; or purity, impurity.
VIGILANCE.--The young woman who truly understands and practises the art
of self-government, will not only train herself to be at once cheerful,
discreet, modest, diffident and courageous; she will also be vigilant.
The largest ship may be sunk by a very small leak; and in like manner,
may the brightest and noblest character lose its lustre, unless the
possessor is ever on the watch. Let not the most perfect individual on
earth say, in the plenitude of his own power, and in the height of his
own assurance--"My mountain stands strong. I shall never be moved."
Such assurances of self-government and self-possession may be
proper--of course are so--in Him who is in his own nature perfect and
immutable--infinitely and eternally so; but not in a frail, mutable,
created man or woman--above all, in the young and inexperienced.
Pardon me, then, youthful reader, when I repeat the Scripture
cautions--"Be vigilant;" and "Let him who thinketh he standeth, take
heed lest he fall." It is easier to maintain the measure of
self-government we have already attained, and even to add to it, than
to recover what we have once lost.
THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS.--On this account, set a guard over the very
thoughts of your hearts. All sin begins in the desires of the heart and
the affections of the soul. There, in the deep recesses of the man, it
germinates. Let every imagination, then, which exalts itself unduly, be
brought low; and let the stream of thought and feeling be pure, and
perfect, and holy. Acquire the exceedingly important habit of confining
your thoughts and desires to those subjects which your judgment tells
you are lawful and proper--and which are not only lawful and proper in
general, but which are so at particular times and places. The wise man
says there is a time and season for every thing; and more than
intimates, that it is wisdom to confine every thing--thoughts and
feelings, no less than words and actions--to their own place and time,
respectively.
But to learn to think with _order,_ is one exceedingly important item
in the art of _governing_ our thoughts. Half the thought in the world
is of a mere random character. Men are but half men who have not yet
attained to the government of their thoughts and feelings.
THE AFFECTIONS.--Even these, as I have already said, can be controlled.
Were it not so, what meaning would there be in the gospel commands--so
incessantly repeated by the divine Author of the gospel--to love our
_enemies?_ On this subject--the regulation, and if I may so say, the
application of the affections--I intend to dwell at greater length
hereafter.
THE TEMPER.--Nothing is more unpleasant--slovenliness, perhaps,
excepted--than a bad temper. I beseech every one who is so unhappy as
to possess such a temper, to pay particular attention to what I am
about to say, on this interesting and important topic.
Some young women seem entirely to overlook the consequences of an ill
temper. These are numerous--too numerous to be mentioned in a single
chapter. I shall only say here, that such a temper is no less
destructive--in a slow way--to the health of the body, than it is to
the mental faculties and the affections.
Some suppose their ill temper to be constitutional, and this serves
them as an apology for neglecting to govern it. They seem to regard it
as so wrought into their very structure, that it will hardly be
possible ever to eradicate it. They are condemned by inheritance, as
they appear to suppose, to a perpetual war within--in which the most
they can hope for is an occasional victory.
Now let me tell every young woman who has imbibed this erroneous and
dangerous notion, that God has never suffered the command of her temper
to be placed beyond her reach. She may acquire the most perfect
self-command, even in this respect, if she will. Not in a moment, nor
in a day, it is true. The work may be the labor of months, or of years.
Still, the battle can be won: a permanent and final victory can be
achieved.
The very general idea, that single persons somewhat advanced in life,
especially females, become habitually impatient or ill tempered, has
too much truth for its foundation, though it is by no means universally
true. Nor is it ever necessary that it should be so, as I have
endeavored to show elsewhere.
I wish every young person could be induced to study deeply the causes
which operate on mankind to originate or perpetuate a bad temper. They
are numerous--exceedingly so. It is not necessary to charge much upon
our ancestors. The causes may much oftener be found within our own
minds and bodies, would we but look for them there. We harbor or
perhaps indulge a thousand unpleasant feelings from day to day, not
seeming to know, or at least to realize, that as small streams form
larger ones, so these first risings of anger lead to its more
out-breaking forms.
Not a few of the instances of irritability, fretfulness, impatience and
melancholy, have their origin in physical causes--in errors in regard
to exercise, sleep, air, temperature, dress, eating, drinking, &c.; and
some have their origin in mistakes about the theory or the practice of
religion. Some originate, too, in disappointed love. In short, their
sources are well nigh endless.
THE APPETITES AND PASSIONS.--It is in vain, or almost in vain, to hope
for any radical improvement in our physical, intellectual or moral
condition, except in proportion as the body and the bodily appetites
are kept in proper subjection to right reason and religion.
Here I must again urge upon every young woman the duty of studying the
laws of health, and especially those of temperance. The knowledge thus
to be obtained, would be of exceeding great value to her in the
government of her passions and appetites.
Prof. Mussey, recently of Dartmouth College, in New Hampshire, relates,
that a teacher in Boston, whose general course of discipline was quite
mild, was sometimes so much affected in his temper by high-seasoned or
over-stimulating dinners, as to be petulant and passionate, even to
blows, immediately afterward.
Now, whether this was often the case with the individual in question, I
cannot say. This, however, I may affirm with the utmost safety and
confidence--that many an individual who finds her passions or her
appetites more than usually troublesome or rebellious, would do well to
look for the cause in the bad air which she breathes, the bad food or
drinks she uses, or in something else in herself or in her habits which
might have been prevented.
Sometimes tea or coffee, notwithstanding their first effects to
enliven, produce the results I have mentioned, as their secondary
effects. Sometimes a hearty dinner of flesh meat, or a more moderate
one, with bad accompaniments, or with improper seasonings, is the cause
of trouble. Sometimes the cause is something either quite indigestible,
or difficult of digestion, whether it be animal or vegetable. And,
lastly, but yet most frequently of all, it may be excess of quantity,
or the bad cooking of substances naturally wholesome and digestible.
I press this part of my subject upon the consideration of young women,
because it concerns not them alone, but a host of others. No one liveth
to himself, says an apostle; and the remark is quite as important in
its application to the young woman, as to any other individual.
One reason why I urge it is, because we are almost universally referred
to moral means and moral considerations alone, in order to keep in
subjection the body--its passions and appetites--and seldom, if ever,
to a proper attention to our food or our drink, our air, our exercise,
or our sleep. Nay, the hopes of the young, in regard to keeping the
body in subjection, are sometimes completely paralyzed by the grave
assertion, that the strength of our passions and appetites is
constitutional--as much our inheritance, as the color of our eyes, or
the contour of our physiognomies, and almost equally unalterable.
Now I would encourage no young woman to expect too much of "temperance
in all things," without the co-operation of the moral powers, and
especially of the will. But I would encourage her to strict temperance
for her own sake, and that of others. I would say to her once more,
that in proportion to her obedience to the laws of health, in regard to
air, exercise, sleep, temperature, study, food, drink, clothing, &c.,
&c., will be her ability to govern herself according to right, and
reason, and the commands of the Creator. The simpler her diet, for
example, and the more free it is from extraneous things--as fat,
condiments, &c.--the easier will it be to keep herself in proper
subjection to herself--the body to the immortal spirit.
One of the most powerful and ever active causes of that slavery of the
soul to the body, which every person of sense must perceive and
deplore, is our unnatural and artificial cookery. Had it been the aim
of all the cookery in the world, to make it as bad as possible for the
health of body and soul, I know not that things could have been worse
than they are now. Very few things, indeed, are made more palatable,
more digestible, or more nutritious by it--the legitimate and only ends
of all the efforts of our fashionable cookery. On the contrary, they
are made, almost universally, a great deal worse for us.
Let the young woman who would serve God in her day and generation, by
doing good in the reformation, elevation, and eternal progress of
herself and those around her, not only study deeply the laws of health
and life, but let her tax her powers of reasoning and invention, to see
if it is not possible to remove the cause of so much mischief from our
parlors, our sleeping-rooms, our kitchens, and our tables. Much must be
done, in this respect, before the world can become what it ought to be;
and woman must lead the way--woman of some future generation, if not of
the present.
CHAPTER VIII.
SELF-COMMAND.
Presence of mind. Examples. Napoleon. Female example. Mrs. Merrill. Use
of the anecdote. Self-command to be cultivated. In what manner Consult
the experience of others. Consult your own reason and good sense. Daily
practice in the art of self-command.
I was, at first, disposed to call this chapter Presence of Mind; but
for various reasons, I have chosen to call it by another name--that of
Self-Command.
To acquire the art of properly commanding ourselves, in all
circumstances--especially in the most trying emergencies, and at a
moment of danger, when not a minute, perhaps not a second, should be
lost--is as difficult as it is important to every person; and to none
perhaps more so, than to young women. Not that their trials of this
sort will be more frequent than those of other people; but because the
usual course of their education is such as to prepare them but poorly
to meet those which fall to their lot.
It is said that Napoleon was greatly distinguished for the trait of
character of which I am now speaking. But there are also numerous.
examples of self-command in females on record. I will relate one.
Some thirty or forty years ago, when the Indians had not yet done
making depredations on the inhabitants of our then frontier states,
Kentucky and Ohio, a band of these savage men came to the door of a
house in Nelson county, Ky., and having shot down the father of the
little family within, who had incautiously opened the door, they
attempted to rush in and put to death the defenceless and unoffending
mother and her children. But Mrs. Merrill--for that was the name of the
heroic woman--had much of that self-command, or presence of mind, which
was now so needful. She drew her wounded husband into the house, closed
the door and barred it as quickly as possible, so that the Indians
could not enter at once, and then proceeded to the defence of "her
castle," and all those in it whom she held dear.
The Indians had soon hewed away a part of the door, so that they could
force themselves in, one by one, but not very rapidly. This slow mode
of entrance gave time to Mrs. M. to despatch them with an axe, and drag
them in; so that before those without were aware of the fate of those
inside, she had, with a little assistance from her husband, formed
quite a pile of dead bodies within and around the door; and even the
little children, half dead though they at first were with fear, had
gradually begun to recover from their fright.
The Indians, finding their party so rapidly disappearing, at length
began to suspect what was their fate, and accordingly gave up their
efforts in that direction. They now attempted to descend into the house
by way of the chimney. The united wisdom and presence of mind of the
family was again put in requisition, and they emptied upon the fire the
contents of a feather bed, which brought down, half smothered, those
Indians that were in the chimney, who were also soon and easily
despatched. The remainder of the party, now very much reduced in
numbers, became quite discouraged, and concluded it was best to retire.
I have not related this story because I suppose any of my readers will
ever be tried in this particular manner. Many of them, however, may be
placed in circumstances exceedingly trying; and their lives and those
of others may depend on a little presence of mind.
Suppose, now, that Mrs. M., instead of dragging her wounded husband
into the house and fastening the door, had stood still and screamed; or
suppose she had fainted, or run away; what would have been the result?
We do not know, it is true; but we know enough of the Indian mode of
warfare to see that no condition could well be more perilous.
It cannot be denied that the large share of nervous sensibility which
is allotted to the female constitution, peculiarly unfits woman for
scenes of blood, like that to which I have alluded. And yet we see what
can be done, as a last resort. [Footnote: Some persons object to the
detail or such a scene of murder as this, even as an illustration of an
important principle. They dislike to present such things to the
youthful mind; and so do I. But it should be remembered that this book
is not for mere children, but rather for young women; and is therefore
less objectionable than if it were written for persons much younger.]
But if most females were fitted for trying emergencies, as I doubt not
they could be, how much better they could meet the more common
accidents and dangers to which human existence is daily more or less
liable. And ought they not to be thus fitted?
Do you ask how item be done? This is precisely the question I should
expect would be asked by those who have a strong desire for
improvement. It is a work that is at present chiefly left undone, both
by parents and teachers, and yet hundreds of lives are lost every year
for the want of it; and hundreds of others are likely to be lost in the
same way every year for many years to come, unless the work is taken up
as a work of importance, and studied with as much zeal as grammar, or
geography, or botany, or mathematics.
It is a most pitiable sight to see a young woman, twelve, fifteen, or
it may be eighteen years of age, left to take care of a babe, suffer
its clothes to get on fire by some accident, and then, without the
least particle of self-command, only jump up and down and scream, till
the child is burnt to death; or what perhaps is still worse, rush out
for relief, leaving the door wide open to let through a current of air
to hasten the work of destruction.
Equally distressing and pitiable is it, to see females, young or old,
losing all presence of mind the moment a horse takes fright, or a gale
of wind capsizes the vessel in which they are travelling, and by their
erratic movements, depriving themselves of the only opportunity which
remains to them, of saving themselves or of assisting to save others.
But the question recurs--How can these evils be prevented? In what way
can our young women be taught--or in what way can they be induced to
teach themselves--the important art of commanding themselves, on all
occasions, and in all emergencies?
An aged but excellent minister of the gospel with whom I had the honor
and the pleasure of being intimately acquainted, once said, that the
only way of being prepared for the sudden accidents of life--by being
able to keep cool and possess our souls in peace--was to think on the
subject often, and consider what we would do, should such and such
accidents occur.
Thus we should consider often what we ought to do, if a horse in a
carriage should run away with us; if we should awake and find the house
on fire over our heads--what to be done, if we were in this room or in
that, &c.; if our clothes should take fire; if we should be burnt or
scalded--what to be done, if scalded with water, and what, if with
milk, oil, or any other substance; [Footnote: A very small portion of
chemical knowledge is sufficient to teach any person that the falling
of a quantity of boiling oil or fat on any part of the body, will cause
a deeper and more dangerous burn, than the same quantity of boiling
water applied in the same manner; and consequently, will require very
different treatment. Water boils at 212 degrees of Fahrenheit; oil at
about 600.--I have entered minutely into this subject in my work
entitled "The Mother in her Family" chapters xxiv. xxv. and xxvi] if a
child should fall into a well, be kicked by a horse, be seized by
convulsions, or break or dislocate a limb, &c.
It will be asked, I know, of what avail it is to think over and over
what should be done, without the instructions, either of experience or
science. But we can have these instructions, to some extent, whenever
we seek after them. The great trouble is, we are not in the habit of
seeking for them; and what we do not seek, we rarely, if ever, find.
There are around every young woman, those whose judgment is worth
something in this matter. It is not always the old--though it is more
generally such. There are those who live in the world almost half a
century without learning any thing; and there are also those who become
wise in a quarter of a century. The wise, whatever may be their age,
are the persons for you to consult; and the older such persons are, the
better--because the greater is likely to be their wisdom. The truly
wise, are always growing wiser; it is the fool alone who remains
stationary. Wise and observing friends will probably tell you--or at
least relate anecdotes to you, from which you may gather the
conclusion--that when the clothes of a child have caught fire, you may
often smother the flame by wrapping him instantly in a thick woollen
blanket:--that it is seldom entirely safe to open the doors into an
adjoining room--at least without great caution--when the house which we
are in is discovered to be on fire; but the best way, as a general
rule, is, to escape by the scuttle, if there be one, or by a ladder, or
by letting ourselves down to the ground, if the distance is not too
great, through the windows. This last is often the best way, though not
always the most expeditious one. Many sleep with a rope in their
bed-rooms to tie to the bed-post, as a means of letting themselves
down, should there be occasion; while others rely on the
bed-clothes--to make a rope of them by tying several articles together.
But it was no part of my purpose, in this work, to direct to the
appropriate methods of saving ourselves or our friends from harm, in
case of accidents or emergencies; but only to point to the subject, and
leave the reader to pursue it. The intelligent young woman who sets
about gaining the habit of self-command, will not only consult the
experience of others, but observe, and reflect, and reason on the case,
herself. She will often originate plans and means of escape, in places
and, circumstances of danger, which she would not gain from others in a
hundred or a thousand years.
There is one other means of improvement in the art of self-command, on
which I do not know that any writer on the subject has dwelt with much
earnestness. And yet it is as plain and simple as can be. It is to make
the most of every little accident or emergency that actually overtakes
or surprises us. I know from personal experience, that a great deal may
be done in this way. There are those who, though they were formerly
frightened half out of their senses, at the sudden sight of a harmless
snake, have brought themselves, by dint of long effort, to so much
presence of mind, as only to start a little at first--and to be as
calm, and composed, and self-possessed, in a few seconds afterward, as
if nothing had happened. And the same presence of mind may be obtained
in other surprises or emergencies. Besides, she who is learning to
command herself at sight of a snake or a dog; is at the same time
acquiring the power to command herself in any other circumstances where
self-command may be necessary.
I wish the principle indicated by the last statement were more
generally perceived. I wish it were distinctly understood, that what we
want is, to gain the habit of self-command in all circumstances, rather
than to be able to work ourselves up to a proper state of feeling in
particular cases; and that this habit is to be acquired by frequent
familiar conversation on the subject, and by daily practice in the
continually recurring small matters of life. It is, indeed, in
governing ourselves in these small matters--which recur so frequently,
and are regarded as so trifling as to have not only no moral character
in themselves, but no influence in the formation of character--that the
art to which I am now directing your attention, is to be chiefly
acquired. They who defer the work till some larger or more striking
emergency arrives, will not be likely to make much progress; for they
begin at the wrong end of the matter. They begin exactly where they
ought to end.
CHAPTER IX.
DECISION OF CHARACTER.
Decision of character as important to young women as to others. Why it
is so. Illustration of the subject by a Scripture anecdote. Misery and
danger of indecision. How to reform. Perseverance. Errors of modern
education.
This trait of character has been recommended to young men too
exclusively. I know of no reason why it is not equally important to
young women, and equally becoming the sex in general. One thing, at any
rate, I do know; which is, that thousands of young women--and the world
through their imperfection--suffer, in no trifling degree, from the
want of this virtue.
I call it a _virtue._ What is there that produces more evil--directly
or indirectly--than the want of power, when occasion requires it, to
say YES, or NO? As long as with half the human race--and the more
influential half, too-_no_ does not mean _no,_ and _yes_ does not mean
_yes,_ there will be a vast amount of vice, and crime, and suffering in
the world, as the natural consequence. And is not that which is the
cause of so much evil, nearly akin to vice? And is any thing more
entitled to the name of virtue, than its opposite?
Let me illustrate my meaning by a Scripture example. When Balak, the
king of Moab, undertook to extort a curse upon Israel, from Balaam, the
latter did not say _no_; but only said, the Lord would not permit him
to do what was required. He left neither to Balak nor to his
messengers, any reason to conclude that his virtue was invulnerable. On
the contrary, as the event plainly shows, his answer was just such a
one as encouraged them to prosecute their attempts to seduce him.
Now it is precisely this sort of refusal, direct or implied, in a
thousand cases which might be named, which brings down evil, not only
upon those who make it, but upon others. They mean _no_, perhaps; and
yet it is not certain that the decision is--like the laws of the Medea
and Persians--irrevocable. Something in the tone, or manner, or both
combined, leaves room to hope for success in time to come. "The woman
who deliberates, is lost," we are told: and is it not so? Do not many
who say _no_ with hesitancy, still retain the power and the disposition
to deliberate? And is it not so understood?
It is--I repeat it--a great misfortune--a very great one--not to know
how and when to say NO. Indeed, the undecided are more than
unfortunate; they are very unsafe. They who cannot say _no_, are never
their own keepers; they are always, more or less, in the power and at
the command of others. They may form a thousand resolutions a day, to
withstand in the hour of temptation; and yet, if the temptation comes,
and they have not acquired decision of character, it is ten to one but
they will yield to it.
Is it too much to say, that half the world are miserable on this
account,--miserable themselves, and a source of misery to others? Is it
too much to say, that decision of character is more important to young
women than to any other class of persons whatever?
But as it is in every thing or almost every thing else, so it is in
this matter: they who would reform themselves, must begin with the
smaller matters of life. The great trials--those of decision no less
than those of other traits of human character--come but seldom; and
they who allow themselves, habitually, to vacillate, and hesitate, and
remain undecided, in the every-day concerns of life, will inevitably do
so in those larger matters which recur less frequently.
No one will succeed in acquiring true decision of character, without
perseverance. A few feeble efforts, continued a day or two, or a week,
are by no means sufficient to change the character or form the habit.
The efforts must be earnest, energetic, and unremitted; and must be
persevered in through life.
I am not ignorant that many philosophers and physiologists have denied
that woman possesses the power of perseverance in what she undertakes,
in any eminent degree. A British writer, distinguished for his
boldness, if not for his metaphysical acuteness, maintains with much
earnestness, that woman, by her vital organization, is much wanting in
perseverance. This notion may or may not be true. Certain it is,
however, that she has her peculiarities, as well as man his. But
whether she has little or much native power of perseverance in what she
undertakes, is not so important a question, as whether she makes a
proper use of the power she possesses.
"Who does the best his circumstance allows,
Does well; acts nobly: angels could no more."
We are required, however, to do that best which "circumstance" does
allow, as much as is the highest seraph; and woman is not the less
bound to persevere in matters where perseverance would become her,
because her native power of perseverance is feeble, if indeed it is so.
On the contrary, this very fact makes the duty of perseverance to the
utmost extent of the means God has put into her hands, the more
urgent--especially as _small powers_ are apt to be overlooked.
There is one habit which should be cultivated, not only for its
usefulness in general, but especially for its value in leading to true
decision of character. I mean, the habit of doing every thing which it
devolves upon us to do at all, precisely _at the time_ when it ought to
be done. Every thing in human character goes to wreck, under the reign
of procrastination, while prompt action gives to all things a
corresponding and proportional life and energy. Above all, every thing
in the shape of decision of character is lost by delay. It should be a
sacred rule with every individual who lives in the world for any higher
purpose than merely to live, never to put off, for a single moment, a
thing which ought to be done immediately--if it be no more than the
cleaning or changing of a garment.
When I see a young woman neglecting, from day to day, her
correspondents--her pile of letters constantly increasing, and her
dread of putting pen and thoughts to paper accumulating as rapidly--I
never fail to conclude, at once, that whatever other excellent
qualities she may possess, she is a stranger to the one in question.
She who cannot make up her mind to answer a letter when she knows it
ought to be answered--and in general a letter ought to be answered soon
after it is received--will not be likely to manifest decision in other
things of still greater importance. The same is true, as I have said
already several times, in regard to indecision in other things of even
less moment than the writing of a letter. It is manifest especially in
regard to the matter of rising in the morning. She who knows it is time
to get up, and yet cannot decide to do so, and consequently lies
yawning a little longer, "and yet a little longer still," can never, I
am bold to say, while this indolence and indecision are indulged, be
decided in any thing else--at least; habitually.
She may, indeed, be so by fits and starts; but the habit will never be
so confirmed as to be regarded as an essential element of her character.
Nearly all the habits of modern female education--I mean the
_fashionable_ education of the family and school--are entirely at war
with the virtue I am endeavoring to inculcate. It would be a miracle,
almost, if a young woman who has been educated in a fashionable family,
under the eye of a fashionable mother, and at a fashionable boarding
school, under the direction of a teacher whose main object is to please
her patrons, should come out to the world, without being quite
destitute of all true decision of character. If it were the leading
object of our boarding schools to form the habit of indecision, they
could not succeed better than many of them now do. They furnish to the
world a set of beings who are any thing but what the world wants, and
who are more likely to do almost any thing else, than to be the means
of reforming it.
CHAPTER X
SELF-DEPENDENCE.
Fashionable education. Why there is so little self-dependence in the
world. Why orphans sometimes make out well in the world. Error
corrected. What young women once were. What they are now. The best
character formed under difficulties. Cause of the present helpless
condition of females. Three or four to get breakfast. Modes of breaking
up these habits. Anecdote of an independent young woman. Appeal to the
reader.
Here, again, our fashionable modes of education are wrong; and here,
too, almost every young woman who is determined on improvement, has a
great work to perform.
It is one of the most difficult things in the world--perhaps it is one
of the impossibles--to bring up children amid comforts and
conveniences, and yet at the same time to cultivate in them the habit
of self-dependence--or, as some would call it, the habit of
independence.
And yet nothing is more true, than that human character has always,
with few if any exceptions, been most fully developed and most
harmoniously and healthfully formed, amid difficulties. Mr. M'Clure,
the distinguished geologist, whose opportunities for observation in the
world have been very great, says that orphans, as a general rule, make
their way best in the world. Without claiming for myself so many years
of observation, by thirty or forty, as this distinguished veteran in
natural science, I should be glad to make one modification of his
conclusion, before adopting it as my own. I would say, that the
misfortune of having no parents at all, is scarcely greater than that
of having over-indulgent ones; and that the number of those who are
spoiled by indulgence, is greater than the number of those who are
spoiled by being made orphans.
It cannot be that an institution ordained by Heaven as one of its first
laws, should so completely fail in accomplishing its design--that of
blessing mankind--as Mr. M'Clure represents. It cannot be that parents,
as a general rule, are a misfortune. Such a belief is greatly erroneous.
The truth is, that when we look about us and see so many spoiled, who
appear to be well bred, our attention is so exclusively directed to
these strange, but, in a dense population, frequently occurring cases,
that we begin, ere long, to fancy the exception to be the general rule.
And again, when we see here and there an orphan--and in a population
like ours, quite a multitude in the aggregate--making her way well in
the world, we are liable to make another wrong conclusion, and to say
that her success belongs to the general rule, when it is only an
exception to it.
Nevertheless--and I have no wish to conceal the fact--it is extremely
difficult, if not dangerous, to attempt to form good and useful
character in the lap of ease and indulgence. There needs privation and
hard struggle, to develope the soul and the body. Even Zion, the city
of our God, is represented in Scripture as recruiting her inhabitants
only by throes and agonies.
Let it not be thought, then, that our young women in New England--a
land of comparative ease, quiet and affluence--can be brought up as
they ought to be, without much pains-taking. A century ago, things
were, in this respect, more favorable. Then there were struggles; and
these were the means of forming a race of men and women, of whom the
world might have been proud. Then the young women knew how to take care
of themselves; and having been taught how to take care of themselves,
they knew how to take care of others.
But "times are altered." Thousands of young women--and the same is true
of young men--are trained from the very cradle, scarcely to know any
thing of want or difficulty. All is comparative ease, and comfort, and
quiet around them; and they are led by ease and indulgence to love to
have it so. They are trained, as I have elsewhere said, to depend on
the world and its inhabitants for their happiness--not to originate
happiness and diffuse it. They are trained, in effect, to believe that
happiness, or blessedness, consists--contrary to the saying of our Lord
and Saviour--in _receiving_; not in _giving_.
The time _was_, I say once more, when most young women, if thrown by
the hard hand of necessity upon their own resources, could yet take
care of themselves. No matter how great their poverty or
affliction--how large or how deep their cup of adversity or trial--they
would, in general, struggle through it, and come out as gold seven
times refined. Mothers left with large families of helpless children,
and with no means of sustaining them but the labor of their own hands,
and daughters left without either parent, would wind their way along in
the world, and the world be both the wiser and the better for their
influence.
Now, on the contrary, mothers and young women left destitute, are apt
to be, of all beings, except the merest infants of the former, the most
helpless.
This applies to even a large portion of what are called the poor. In
reality, however, we have no poor--or next to none. Our very paupers
are comparatively rich. They dress, and eat, and drink, and _dwell_
like princes. How, then, can they be so very poor?
It is true, that nearly all of our young women are trained to something
in the shape of labor. Very few, indeed, are trained to positive
indolence. But what is their labor, generally speaking? A little
sewing, or knitting, or embroidery; or still worse, in circumstances of
poverty or peculiar necessity, a life of spinning, or weaving, or
braiding; or some other mechanical occupation which has no tendency to
prepare them for true self-dependence.
I have said we have little poverty existing among us. Is it not so? Is
not the life of young women in the great mass of our New England
families, very far removed from any feeling of want or suffering?
But though not trained in real indigence, they might be trained to
self-dependence. They might be, and always ought to be, trained to make
their own beds; make and mend their own garments; make bread; and, in
fact, to attend to the whole usual routine of duties involved in the
care of themselves and a family. But is it so? Are not all these things
done, to a vast extent, either by servants, hired girls, or the mother?
And if the mother employs her daughters in assisting her, is it not apt
to be just so far as is _convenient to herself_, and no farther? In
short, who can often find the individual mother or daughter, who
considers hard work, and care, and obstacles, and difficulties--such as
all the world acknowledge are required in order to form good and useful
character--as any thing but task work and drudgery--a curse, and not a
blessing, to mankind?
True it is--and greatly to be lamented--that many of our young women
are not well able, for want of physical vigor and energy, to encounter
poverty, and hardship, and obstacles, and suffering. But this
deteriorated condition of female character in New England, is owing, in
no small degree, to the very kind of education--miseducation,
rather--of which I am now complaining. Would mothers do their
duty--could they do it, I mean, in the midst of abundance--the state of
things would be very much altered for the better.
It is not uncommon in the schools of Europe, especially the female
schools, to assign to each older pupil the care of some younger one,
for whom she is more or less responsible, particularly as to behaviour.
This leads, in no small degree, to self-effort and self-dependence; and
might be practised in families as well as in schools, with equally good
effects.
But there is another course which is better still, in many respects. It
is not unusual in our New England families, where there are several
daughters, when they are employed at all--I mean about household
concerns--to have them all employed at the same thing at once. Thus, if
breakfast is to be prepared, all are to engage in it. One goes this
way, another that, and another that; and it sometimes happens that they
cross each other's path and come into actual conflict. One goes for one
thing, another for another, and so on; and it is not uncommon for two
or three to go for the same article.
That three or four females may thus spend all their time for an hour or
more in getting breakfast, when one alone would do it much more quietly
and a great deal better, and in little more time than is occupied by
the whole of them, is not the worst of the evil. The great trouble is,
that no one is acquiring the habit of self-dependence. On the contrary,
they are acquiring so strong a habit of doing things in company, that
they hardly know how to do them otherwise. True, there is pleasure
connected with this sort of dependence--and most persons are
exceedingly fond of it; but the question is whether it is useful--and
not whether it is or is not pleasurable.
Is it best for young women to become so much accustomed to _assist_,
merely, in cooking, and in performing other household offices, as to
feel, even at thirty years of age, as if they could do nothing without
the aid of others?
I hardly know what a young woman is to do, who finds herself in the
dependent condition of which I have been speaking. The habit is not
very likely to be broken, so long as she remains in the place where it
was formed. I have, however, seen such a habit successfully broken up;
in one instance; and perhaps it may be useful to relate it.
A young friend and neighbor of mine, in a family where there were
several young men of nearly the same age, happening to find out the
evil of doing the smaller work of the morning and evening in this
company manner--that what was "every body's business," in the language
of a common maxim, "was nobody's"--resolved on a change. He accordingly
proposed to his companions to take turns in doing the work. One was to
do it faithfully--the whole of it--for a month; another for the next
month; and so on. The plan succeeded most admirably. Each became
accustomed to a degree of responsibility; and each began to acquire the
habit of doing things independently, without the aid of a dozen others.
Perhaps this method might be generally introduced into families, as it
has already been, in substance, into some of our boarding schools. It
is at least worth while for a young woman who perceives her need of
such an arrangement, to attempt it. To be suddenly required to make a
batch of bread, or wash the garments, or cook the victuals of a
household, and to feel, at twenty years of age, utterly at a loss how
to perform the whole routine of these familiar household duties, must
be both distressing to herself and painful to others.
Of course it is not desirable to see our young women all orphans, and
brought up as domestics, for the sake of having them brought up in such
a way as to be good for something, [Footnote: Nor can I wish to see
young women trained to do the "buying and selling," instead of men, in
order to give energy to their character; although I do not doubt that
such a course is often successful. It is related by Mr. Ennis, a highly
credible traveller that in Bali and Lombok, two islands lying eastward
of Java, the females do all the buying and selling, even to the amount
of thousands of dollars. "This probably gives" he says, "to the whole
race of people a portion of that boldness and energy for which they are
a little distinguished." But then, as he very honestly adds, it gives
the women somewhat of a masculine character--a thing which should not
by any means be encouraged.] instead of being the poor dependent beings
they too commonly are; yet it were greatly to be desired, that without
the disadvantages of orphans at service in families, they could have
the energy and self-dependence of such persons.
Allow me to relate, for your instruction, a few anecdotes respecting an
individual, who was, to all intents and purposes, an orphan, but who
was, nevertheless, more useful in life, and more truly happy, than a
hundred or a thousand of some of those passive mortals who float
through life on the streams of abundance, without feeling the agitation
of tide or current, and only discover the misery of such a course when
they fall into the gulf of insignificance.
This individual had been abandoned by one of her parents very early in
life, and had been also early separated by poverty from the other. She
had lived in various families, and had been compelled to hard labor,
and sometimes to menial services. At length she married a person as
poor as herself, though not so independent. He had been bred in the
midst of ease; and was, consequently, indolent. But she was determined
on "going ahead" in the world; and her ambition at length roused her
husband.
The latter now engaged in hard labor, by the day or the month, among
his neighbors; while the wife took care of the concerns at home. This
continued for fifteen or sixteen years, before their joint labors
procured land enough for the husband to work on, at home. In the mean
time, however, they had a number of children; and the mother's cares
and labors of course increased. For several of the first of these
years, the husband was seldom at home to assist or encourage her, in
the summer, except during the Sabbath and occasionally at evening; so
that though this diminished the labor of cooking, it left her with her
children wholly on her hands, and a great deal of unavoidable labor,
such as washing and ironing. The latter work she did for her husband,
as well as for her children and herself: and it was therefore an item
of considerable moment--especially as she was obliged to bring water
for this and all her domestic purposes in pails, the distance of
twenty-five or thirty rods, a part of the year, and of ten rods or so,
the other part; besides which, she had to pick up much of her wood, for
the six summer months, in the woods nearly a quarter of a mile distant,
carry it home in her arms, and to cut it for the fire-place. Added to
all this, was the labor of _brewing_ once or twice a week; for in those
days, when poverty denied cider to a family, the beer barrel was
regarded as indispensable.
Nor were her domestic concerns, properly so called, her only labors.
She spun and wove cloth for the use of her family, besides weaving for
some of her neighbors. She also spun and wove a great deal of coarse
cloth, at shares; and thus purchased a large part of the smaller
necessaries of the family, and not a little of the clothing.
She continued this course, I say, something like fifteen years. Never,
to my knowledge, unless she was actually sick, did she receive any
assistance in her labors--not so much as a day's work of washing. And
yet under all these disadvantages, she reared--almost without help even
from the children themselves, as the difference between the oldest and
the youngest was only about eight years--a family of four children.
I have sometimes wondered how she accomplished so much, by her own
unaided efforts. But the whole secret lay in her power of
self-dependence. She could do every thing alone. She had been trained
to it. She was truly independent; as much so, perhaps, as a female can
be in this world.
I might have added, that notwithstanding these incessant labors, I have
often known her walk four or five miles to church on the Sabbath, and
home again in the same manner; that she was neat and orderly; and that
she found much time to read and converse with her children, and for
social visiting.
Reader, I do not ask you to imitate this veteran matron; for it would
be too much to ask of any individual in any age, especially the
present. But I ask you, and with great earnestness, to acquire the
power of self-dependence--and to do it immediately. Make it a matter of
conscience. Bear constantly in mind, that whatever _has_ been done,
_may_ be done. Shame on those who, knowing the value of
self-dependence, and having the power to acquire it, pass through life
so shiftless, that they cannot do the least thing without aid--the aid
of a host of relatives or menials. It is quite time that woman should
understand her power and her strength, and govern herself accordingly.
It is quite time for her to stand upright in her native, heaven-born
dignity, and show to the world--and to angels, even, as well as to
men--for what woman was made, and wherein, consists her true excellence.
CHAPTER XI.
REASONING AND ORIGINALITY
Females not expected to be reasoners. Effects of modern education on
the reasoning powers. Education of former days, illustrated by an
anecdote of as octogenarian. Extracts from her correspondence.
Difficulty in getting the ears of mankind. The reasoning powers in man
susceptible of cultivation indefinitely. Reflections on the importance
of maternal effort and female education.
I know not why a young woman should not reason correctly as well as a
young man. And yet I must confess that, some how or other, a masculine
seems to be often attached to the thought of strong reasoning powers in
the female sex. To say of such or such a young woman, She is a bold and
powerful reasoner--would it not be a little uncommon? Would it be
received as a compliment? Would it not be regarded as a little out of
the way--and, to coin a term, as rather unfeminine?
Perhaps the habit of boldly tracing effects up to their causes, and of
reasoning upon them, is a little more uncommon among the young misses
of our boarding schools and our more fashionable families, both of city
and country, than among those of the plainer sort of people. Certain it
is, at all events, that the former would be regarded as reasoning
persons with much more reluctance than the latter. And yet the former
has probably been taught mathematics, and all those sciences which are
supposed to develope and strengthen the mental faculties, and give
energy to the reasoning powers.
For myself, I have many doubts whether we are really--whether the sex
themselves are, I mean--so much the gainers by the superficial
knowledge of modern days, which tends to the exclusion, in the result,
of that good old fashioned education to house-work, which was given by
the mothers of New England, in the days of her primitive beauty and
glory. Then were our young women, for the times, reasoning women; then
were they good for something. A few of those precious relics of a
comparatively golden age, have come down nearly to our own times. I
have even seen several of them since the beginning of the nineteenth
century. There is one of this description, more than eighty years of
age, now living with a son of hers in one of the Middle States. Her
sphere of action, however, in the days of her activity, lay not there,
but on one of those delightful hills which are found at the termination
of the Green Mountain range, in New England. There, in her secluded
country residence, among plain people, and with only plain means, with
her husband absent much of the time, she educated--not instructed,
merely, nor brought up at school, but educated--a large family of
children, most of whom live to bless her memory and the world. So
devoted was this woman to her household duties, and to the right
education of her family, that for eleven of the first and _hardest_
years of her life, she never for once left the hill on which she
dwelt--a mile or so in extent.
And yet this female was a woman of reasoning powers superior to those
of most men. She understood, thoroughly, every ordinary topic of
conversation, and could discuss well any subject which came within her
grasp. She has been for a few years past, one of my most regular and
most valued correspondents; and nothing but her great age and great
reluctance to put pen to paper, would, I presume, prevent her from
writing more frequently than she is accustomed to do. As a specimen of
her style, I venture to insert a paragraph or two from her letters. The
first was written when she was in her eightieth year.
"I am glad to find you in the enjoyment of health--able to be busily
and usefully employed for this and coming generations. I would like, if
it was God's will, to be usefully employed in _such_ ways, too; but
though I am so greatly favored as to be able to _think_ as well as
ever, I cannot work with my wonted facility and despatch. I cannot
'labor with my hands,' so as to have 'to give to him that needeth,'
because my hands are weak and lame. Once I could fill six sheets of
letter paper in a day, without weariness; but now, if I can fill this
sheet, decently, in _two_ days, I am ready to boast of it, as an
achievement. When I look back and see my former activity, I wonder if
that _was myself_, and am almost ready to doubt my identity. But every
thing in its course; first rising into life, then decaying. The world
itself is not to stand forever; and of course the things animate and
inanimate which are upon it, must partake of its transitoriness."
Again, when she was within a few weeks of eighty years of age, (which
was in January, 1838,) she wrote to me in the following vein of
playfulness:
"As I can invent nothing new, I must utter such truisms as I have
picked up by the way, in almost eighty years; for you say to me,
_write_--and of course I obey, and scribble on. Now I say to _you_--and
may I say it to Mrs. A. too?--WRITE. Write very sensibly, by the way;
for old as I am, I am a sharp critic. I read in my early days Lord
Kaimes' Elements, and I have been working up these elements ever since;
and if I cannot _invent_, I can understand what is fairly presented to
me: so you will receive this as a caution. But don't be afraid! I'll
tell you another thing, of which perhaps you are not aware: I had
rather have one letter warm from the heart, than a dozen from the head."
"I was delighted to think you were pleased with my philosophy--for I
never dreamed I uttered any. As to my politics, I was pretty well
drilled in the school of Washington, after seeing through the
revolutionary struggle; and that was no mean school, I assure you.
Washington was a statesman! I see but _few_ now; but when I do see one,
I make him my best courtesy. And as to my theology, I learned that from
the pilgrim fathers."
Now whether those of my younger readers of a new generation, who,
perhaps, almost despise both letter writing and reasoning,--whether any
of these, I say, will see either form or comeliness--any thing
inviting--in these paragraphs, I cannot say. But I can tell them, at
once, that _I_ do; and it sometimes seems to me, that no greater human
benefaction could be offered to mankind, than the application of those
principles and methods of female education, in family and school, which
would produce such minds and bodies as those of which we have, in the
case of this aged woman, an example!
Perhaps, however, it is almost useless to hope for better times, at
present, for reasons, among others, which are given in another place by
my aged correspondent. "The mischief now-a-days," she says, "is, that
every one is on a railroad, impelled by steam power, and cannot stop;
so all speak at once, and none hear. What a state is this! But it is
true of the world in general. I see but few who are self-possessed. I
wonder when I see any one who is so; and I wonder if I am so myself."
But we are not only unwilling to stay to hear--we are unwilling to stay
to teach. It would be no hard matter for parents and
teachers--especially by beginning early--to establish in the young of
both sexes, habits of right reasoning. I am afraid, however, that
parents and teachers themselves do not perceive the value of such a
habit, and that they are not likely to do so for some time to come.
All, however, which remains for me to do, I must do. This is, to press
upon the few whose ear I can gain, the importance of this part of
self-education. Do not despise the idea of reasoning on subjects which
come before you; nor think it masculine or old fashioned. Not only
accustom yourselves to reason, but to reason on every thing. There is
almost as great a difference between a young woman who takes all things
upon trust, scarcely knowing that she can use her own powers in the
investigation of truth, and one who has been, like my worthy and
venerable correspondent, in the habit of observing and reasoning
seventy or eighty years, as there is between a Sam Patch and a
Bowditch--or a Hottentot and a Newton. Would that our young women knew
this, and would conduct themselves accordingly!
There is nothing in the wide field of human improvement which better
repays the labor of cultivation, than the reasoning powers. Nor is
there any thing which does more to perfect and adorn the human being.
With the highest and noblest rational powers, the human
family--especially the female part of it--seems to me to accomplish
least happily the great work for which they were created, than any
other earthly existences. The little all of knowledge which pertains to
the lower animals, "flows in at once," says Dr. Young; whereas, "were
man to live coeval with the sun, the patriarch pupil might be learning
still, yet dying, leave his lessons half unlearnt." And yet the former
fill, happily, the sphere which God in nature assigned them; while the
latter, with all his capacities and powers of reason, conscience, &c.,
wanders incessantly from his orbit, and must be a most unsightly
spectacle to God and holy angels, and all other high and noble
intelligences. When will man return to his native sphere, and the moral
and intellectual world move in due harmony and happiness, like the
physical? When will each moral creation of the Divine Architect, move
round its great spiritual centre, with the same beauty, and majesty,
and glory, which is manifest in the motions of the physical world?
Never, I am sure, till mothers and teachers, who are, as it seems, the
authors alike of human happiness and human misery, come up to their
appropriate work; and never will there be such mothers, till young
women are better trained. And the latter will never be better trained,
till the work of education, especially of self-education, is undertaken
with much better views of its objects and ends, and with a thousand
times more earnestness and perseverance, and I might even say
_enthusiasm_, than has as yet been manifested.
CHAPTER XII.
INVENTION.
Why woman has invented so few thing. Abundant room for the exercise of
her inventive powers. Hints. Particular need of a reform in cookery.
Appeal to young women on this subject.
Is it not strange, that in a world where have been sought out--time
immemorial--so many inventions, so few should as yet have been
originated by woman?
What have the inventive powers of woman accomplished, even within what
have been usually regarded as her own precincts? Has she invented many
special improvements in the art of house-keeping? Have the labors of
knitting, sewing, making, mending, washing, cooking, &c., been
materially facilitated, or rendered more effective, by her ingenuity?
Has she done much to advance the important art of bread-making towards
perfection?
Why has she not done more? Is genius confined to our sex? Nay, is there
even no common ingenuity out of the range of our own walks? Has not the
young woman, when she begins the world, the same mental faculties, in
number and kind, with the young man? How happens it, then, that the
world is filled with inventions, and so few of them originated by woman?
There is a wide range for improvement in that department of human labor
which has usually been confined to the female sex--especially in the
department of _infant education_. Nor is there any department in which
invention would tell with so much efficiency in the cause of human
happiness, as in that. Let our young women consider this; and let them
resolve on inventing something in their oven particular sphere, which
shall turn to the general account.
When I speak of the appropriate sphere of woman, and of her taxing her
powers of invention there, I would by no means indulge myself in any
narrow or circumscribed views in regard to her field of operation. I
should have no sort of objection to the application of her inventive
powers to the work of facilitating the usual labors of the other
sex--particularly in the departments of agriculture and horticulture.
But I do not perceive any necessity for this. I believe there is work
enough--profitable and philanthropic work, too--to task woman's powers
of invention for many centuries, without her going out of her
appropriate sphere. In the art of cookery especially--which certainly
has a great deal to do with physical education and physical
improvement--there is great room for the exercise of her inventive
powers. This important art is, as yet, entirely in its infancy; and
where any progress has been made, it has been chiefly in a wrong
direction, and under the guidance of wrong principles. Be it yours,
young women, to give this matter a right direction, and to bring it to
bear as efficiently on the happiness of mankind, as it has hitherto on
their slow destruction.
CHAPTER XIII.
OBSERVATION AND REFLECTION.
Advice of Dr. Dwight. Other counsels to the young. Some persons of both
sexes are always seeing, but never reflecting. An object deserving of
pity. Zimmerman's views. Reading to get rid of reflection. Worse things
still.
"Keep your eyes open," was the reiterated counsel of a distinguished
theologian, of this country--the late Dr. Timothy Dwight--to a young
student of his; and it was, in the main, very wholesome advice. And in
so far as it is wholesome for young men, I do not see but it is equally
so for young women.
"Your countenance open, your thoughts close, you will go safe through
the world"--was the advice of another individual, of less eminence, to
a young friend of his; and did it not savor a little too much of
selfishness, and perhaps of concealment, it would, like the advice of
Dr. Dwight, be worthy of careful consideration. It does not partake
quite enough of the gospel spirit and sentiment--"As a man hath
received, so let him give." It encourages us to get wisdom, but not to
communicate it.
I have said that the advice of Dr. Dwight was, in the main, wholesome.
The only objection that can be made to it is, that it gives no
encouragement to reflection. Some may suppose it to mean, that
observation, or _seeing_, is every thing. Now there are those who
appear to see too much. They _always_ have their eyes open. They are
never satisfied otherwise. They absolutely hate all reflection.
Of this description of persons--I am sorry to say it--our young women
furnish a full proportion. Not a very small number of the female sex
are so educated, that it is quite painful for them to turn the current
of their thoughts inward:--they will do almost any thing in the world,
not absolutely criminal, to prevent it. It cannot, indeed, be quite
said, that they observe too much; but it is perfectly safe to say, that
they see too much. If they should see much less with their eyes, and
the soul were left to its own reflections, the result would be, no
doubt, exceedingly happy. Solitude is as necessary as action; and to
both sexes.
No person is more pitiable than the individual of either sex--and such
individuals are by no means scarce in our own-who cannot be easy unless
perpetually running to see some new sight, or, like the Athenians of
old, to hear or to tell some new thing; who is no where so happy as
when in company, and no where so miserable as when alone.
Zimmerman, in his work on Solitude--a pleasant book, by the way,
notwithstanding its gloomy name--has some very appropriate and useful
remarks on the advantages of being by ourselves a part of the time, as
a means of improvement. Should any of my young readers be sorely
afflicted with the disease I have just mentioned-a dread of themselves,
or of their own thoughts, rather--I beg them to read Zimmerman. But
read him, if you read him at all, very thoroughly.
Some persons read solely to get rid of reflection. Worse than this,
even; some persons read, work and play--and I had almost said, go to
church, and put themselves in the attitude of prayer and praise--to get
rid of themselves and their reflections. Who will show us any good
thing? is their constant cry: not, Who will lead us, by external
agencies, or by any other means, to sound and useful reflection. Who
will show us ourselves? is a cry which, among the young women of New
England, as well as those of most other countries, is too seldom heard.
The best advice I can give to such persons--next to that given in the
Sermon on the Mount, where they are directed to enter into their
closet--is, to read with great care, or rather to study, Watts on the
Improvement of the Mind. That is a work which has probably done as much
good in the way of which I am now speaking, as any book--the Bible
excepted--in the English language.
CHAPTER XIV.
DETRACTION AND SCANDAL.
Universal prevalence of detraction and slander. Proofs Shakspeare.
Burns the poet. Self-knowledge, how much to be desired. Reference to
the work of Mrs. Opie--to our own hearts--to the Bible.
Let it not be supposed, for one moment, that I consider young women as
more generally in the habit of detraction than other people; for I
venture on no comparisons of the kind. All I presume to take for
granted is, that they are often exceedingly faulty in this respect, and
need counsel and caution. Were there any doubts on the latter point,
one would think they might very readily be removed by reading the
excellent work of Amelia Opie, entitled, "Detraction Displayed; or, a
Cure for Scandal."
This detraction or scandal is so common every where in life, that
multitudes are addicted to it without the shadow of a suspicion that
they are so. Thousands and thousands of young women whose hearts would
recoil at the bare recital of deeds of butchery and blood--nay, who
would faint at the sight of the severities, not to say cruelties,
which, under the guise of parental discipline, or on the plea of
authority, are often and hourly inflicted on the bodies of young and
old--who will yet rob and murder their unoffending neighbors. For there
is no little truth in what Shakspeare says so pungently--
"Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 't is his, it may be slave to thousands:
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed."
Nor is there less of truth in what the evangelist says, that "whoso
hateth his brother" (and does not a slanderer _hate_?) "is a murderer."
I know it may seem harsh to fasten on any class of the community, and
above all, on the young of either sex, the charge of robbery or murder.
But is it not proper that the truth should be told? And if there is
such a propensity in us to competition in its varied forms, that not
only thoughts but words of detraction are, as it were, forever on our
thoughtless tongues and lips, and we will not, though often warned, set
a guard over the latter, is it not right that we should be represented
as the robbers of reputation? And if there is such a disposition to try
to be first in the community, and to compel those around us to take the
second place--the lower seat--as generates envy and hatred--the _seeds_
of murder--is it not right to warn the young of their danger? And when
we find them callous to our representations of the truth--when we find
their hearts almost as unmoved as the firm rocks they tread on,
notwithstanding our most faithful exhibitions of human depravity, as is
evinced by the slander, the detraction and the calumny which every
where prevail, and which many must see, as in a glass, to prevail in
their own bosoms, while yet their very blood recoils at the tales of
imaginary wo from the pen of Bulwer, or some other novelist of kindred
fame--is it not proper to remind people of what the evangelist says of
hatred, that it is murder?
Burns, the poet, sought some power who would bestow on us the gift "to
see ourselves as others see us." Poor Burns! this was as high as he
could be expected to go. But how much more to be desired is it, that we
could see ourselves as _God_ sees us? Not indeed at once, lest the very
sight should sink us, forthwith, into everlasting night; but by
degrees, rather, as we may be able to endure it.
How much to be desired is it, I say, especially by the young, that we
might see how prone we are to enter into competition, particular or
general, with the community; and how apt we are, with almost every
breath, and in almost every conceivable form, to throw the good
character, and merits, and success, even, of others into the shade. How
can those whose young hearts beat high in anticipation of a good name,
even in this world, be willing to jeopardize their character by the
commission of so much meanness!
I need not enter into particulars, especially when the invaluable work
of Mrs. Opie is before the world. Let me refer those who entertain
doubts whether, after all, I am not among the very sort of detractors
whom I am censuring with so much severity--and whether, what I complain
of in the individual, as abusive on here and there a neighbor or
acquaintance, I am not pouring, by wholesale, and with a spirit not a
whit better, upon a whole community,--let me refer all such, I say, to
that invaluable work. Let me also refer them to themselves.
I am sure no one can carefully examine and analyze her own most secret
feelings without discovering in herself the spirit of detraction in
some form or other, if it be only in the form of genteel slander, envy
or discontent. If there be those who do not find it so with themselves,
and who say that however it may be with others, they are not thus
circumstanced or thus guilty, I pity them most sincerely, as grossly
ignorant of themselves. Such persons I have only and lastly to refer to
that volume of Divine Truth, which assures us that the heart is
deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; and which asks, with
the most pertinent significance, not to say eloquence-WHO CAN KNOW IT?
CHAPTER XV.
THE RIGHT USE OF TIME.
Great value of moments. An old maxim. Wasting shreds of time. Time more
valuable than money. What are the most useful charities. Doing good by
proxy. Value of time for reflection. Doing nothing. Rendering an
account of our time at the last tribunal.
On this subject--the right use of time--sermons, not to say volumes,
without number, have been written; and yet it is still true, as an
eminent poet has well said, that the individual "is yet unborn who duly
weighs an hour."
But my business is not so much to dwell at large on the value of time
in its larger divisions, such as days and hours, as to urge, in the
first place, an attention to moments. "Take care of the pence," says an
old but just maxim, "and the pounds will take care of themselves;" and
it is somewhat so in regard to time. Take care of the moments, and the
hours and days will take care of themselves.
Not, indeed, that hours and even days are not wasted, and worse than
wasted; but the great error is, in disregarding the value and slighting
the use of those smaller fragments of which hours, days and years are
made. Show me the individual, young or old, who sets any thing like a
just value on moments of time, and you will show me the person who
values, in a proper manner, its larger divisions.
I have ventured upon this hackneyed subject, because I have often
thought that young women--more, if possible, than most other young
persons--need to be reminded of the unspeakable importance of moments.
It is only a minute or two, many will say, or seem to say; and so they
let time pass unemployed. But these leisure moments are frequently
recurring; and the more they are slighted and wasted, the more they
will be. And what is worse, she who frequently says, It is only a
minute-and who makes this serve as an apology for wasting it--will soon
extend the same apology to much larger portions of time. The current of
human nature is ever downward: let those who love improvement and
desire to be improved, remember it is so; and let them ever be mindful,
in this respect, of their danger.
There are thousands who suffer themselves to waste shreds of time which
might be applied to the attainment of knowledge--valuable knowledge--or
to the work of doing good in a world where so much good needs to be
done, who would not be willing to waste the smallest sum of money. I
would not speak lightly of the habit of wasting money; but it must be
admitted by all, that she who wastes, without remorse of conscience,
her precious moments which might be usefully employed--if not in
action, at least in conversation, or reading, or reflection--and yet
would not, on any account, waste a cent of money, is justly chargeable,
in a moral point of view, with straining out a gnat, and swallowing a
camel.
For it should never be forgotten, that however valuable money may be,
time is much more so. It is much more so, even as a means of doing
good. There are very many persons, it is true, who seem to think
otherwise. They seem not to think that they can do good with any thing
but money.
Let us reflect, however, that no charity is more truly valuable, than
visiting and aiding the sick, encouraging the depressed, instructing
the ignorant, &c. Now is not she who does the latter, more sure of
doing good than she who only gives the former? In the latter case, she
bestows the very thing which is truly needful; in the former case, she
only bestows that which is a means of doing good. These means may or
may not be properly applied; of this the donor cannot be certain. But
when, instead of giving money or doing good by proxy, she does it
herself, the work is done, and done in her own way: and if not done
well, she is responsible. She is not made, in that case, responsible
for her neighbors.
But is _all_ time wasted that is not spent in action, as some of my
remarks might seem to imply? By no means. I have already spoken, in
this chapter, of the use of time for reflection; and in a preceding
one, have dwelt more especially on the value of solitude at certain
seasons. What I mean to urge is, the folly of trifling away time in
absolutely doing nothing. There is a sort of listlessness--or, perhaps,
more properly, reverie--in which many indulge, which is as sinful as it
is unprofitable; and there are modes of thinking and subjects of
thought, which are, to say the least, unworthy of a rational,
intelligent and immortal spirit.
I am not sure that there are not times--very short seasons, I
mean--during our waking hours, even with those who are in tolerable
health, when we best serve God and our fellow men by doing absolutely
nothing at all. I am not sure, I say, that thus may not be the case.
Still, if it is so, we should be exceedingly careful not to run into
excess in this respect--an error which seems to be almost inevitable.
For one who spends too little time in doing nothing, it is believed a
thousand spend too much in this way. And let it never be forgotten,
that not only for every idle word, but for every misspent moment, we
are, according to Scripture, to render an account in the day when God
will judge the secrets of each heart, according to the gospel of our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
How valuable--how immensely valuable--will a few, only, of those
moments which we now let slip with so much readiness, appear to us in
that great day! What would we not then give for them? Five minutes
here, spent in listlessness, or in doing absolutely nothing; five
there, spent in idle or wicked conversation; and five there, in
unnecessary attentions to our person or dress--how will the ghosts, as
it were, of these departed seasons, haunt and torture us! Though
willing to give worlds to recall them--not only for the sake of our own
souls, but for those of others--thousands of worlds cannot buy them.
No, not one solitary five minutes. Happy is she who "wastes not," that
she may "want not," here or hereafter.
CHAPTER XVI.
LOVE OF DOMESTIC CONCERNS.
Reasons for loving domestic life. 1. Young women should have some
avocation. Labor regarded as drudgery. 2. Domestic employment healthy.
3. It is pleasant. 4. It affords leisure for intellectual improvement.
5. It is favorable to social improvement. 6. It is the employment
assigned them by Divine Providence, and is eminently conducive to moral
improvement. The moral lessons of domestic life. A well ordered home a
miniature of heaven.
I have incidentally made a few remarks on this subject elsewhere; but
its importance demands a further and more attentive consideration.
There are numerous reasons which might be mentioned, why a young woman
ought to cultivate a love of domestic life, and of domestic concerns;
but I shall only advert to a few of them.
1. Every young woman should have some avocation, or calling. The Jews
formerly had a proverb, that whoever of their sons was not bred to a
trade, was bred to the gallows; and both Mohammedans and Pagans have
maxims among them which amount to the same thing. But is that which is
so destructive to the character of young men--I mean the want of proper
employment--entirely harmless to young women? It surely cannot be.
True it is, and deeply to be regretted, that there is a fashionable
feeling abroad, which is the reverse of all this. Both men and women,
in fashionable life, are apt to regard all labor--not only manual, but
mental--as mere drudgery. They will labor, perhaps, if they cannot help
it; but seldom, if they can. Or at least, this seems to be their
feeling when they begin a course of industrious action. Some, it is
confessed, finally become so much accustomed to action, that they
continue it, either as a matter of mere habit, or because its
discontinuance would now render them as miserable as they were in
breaking up their natural indolence, and in forming their present
industrious habits.
2. She should love the concerns and cares of domestic life, because no
ordinary employment contributes more, on the whole, to female health.
I do not mean to say, that there is no other kind of employment which
_could_ be rendered equally healthy with doing house-work; but only
that, as a whole, and especially in the present state of public
sentiment, this is decidedly the best. Perhaps, in some circumstances,
moderate labor--labor proportioned to her strength-in the field, or in
the garden, might be healthier, were she trained to it; but as things
and customs now are, this can hardly be done.
3. The employment is a pleasant one. It has at once all the advantages
of a shelter from the severe cold of the winter, and of seclusion from
the sultry sun of summer, and the storms of winter and summer both.
[Footnote: Perhaps it may be said, that woman actually suffers more
from the extremes of heat and cold, than man, notwithstanding her
seclusion, This may be true; but I still think her constitution is not
quite as liable to _injury_, from the weather, as that of man; besides
which, she is rather less liable to accidents.] And not only is the
house-keeper favored in these respects, but in many others. A pleasant,
well ordered home, is perhaps the most perfect representation of the
felicity of the heaven above, which the earth affords. At any rate, it
is a source of very great happiness; and woman, when she is what she
should be, is thus made a conspicuous agent in communicating that
happiness.
Are not, then, home, and the domestic concerns of home, desirable? Are
they not agreeable? Or if not, should not every young woman strive to
make them so? How then does it happen that an idea of meanness is
attached to them? How does it happen that almost every young woman who
can, gets rid of them--as almost every young man does of farming and
other manual labor.
4. Home affords to young women the means and opportunities of
intellectual improvement. I do not mean to affirm, that the progress
they can make in mere science, amid domestic concerns, will be quite as
great in a given time--say one year--as it might be in many of our best
schools. But I do mean to say, that it might be rapid enough for every
practical purpose. I might say, also, that young women who study a
little every day under the eye of a judicious mother, and teach that
little to their brothers and sisters, will be more truly wise at the
end of their pupilage, than they who only study books in the usual old
fashioned--I might say, rather, new fashioned--manner. It is in these
circumstances more strikingly true than elsewhere, that
"Teaching, we give; and giving, we retain."
5. But once more. She who is employed in the domestic circle, is more
favorably situated--I mean, if the domestic circle is what it should
be--for social improvement, than she could be elsewhere. She may not,
it is true, hold so much converse on the fashions--or be a means of
inventing, or especially of retailing, so much petty scandal--as in
some other situation, or in other circumstances. Still, the society of
home will be better and more truly refined, than if it were more
hollow, and affected, and insincere--in other words, made up of more
fashionable materials. If to be fashionable is to distort nature as
much as possible--and if the most fashionable society is that which is
thus distorted in the highest degree--then it must be admitted that
home cannot always be the best place for the education of young women.
6. But, lastly, young women should love domestic life, and the care and
society of the young, because it is, without doubt, the intention of
Divine Providence that they should do so; and because home, and the
concerns of home, afford the best opportunities and means of moral
improvement.
The prerogative of woman--the peculiar province which God in nature has
assigned her--has been already alluded to with sufficient distinctness.
Let every reader, then, follow out the hint, and ask herself whether it
is not important that she should love the place and circumstances thus
assigned her; and whether she who hates them, is likely to derive from
them the great moral lessons they are eminently designed to inculcate.
Is it asked what moral lessons, so mightily important, can be learned
in the nursery and in the kitchen? In return, I may ask, what lessons
of instruction are there which may _not,_ be learned there, and what
moral virtues may not there be cultivated? Each family is a world in
miniature; and all the necessary trials of the temper and of the
character, are usually found within its circle.
Are we the slaves of appetite? Here is the place for learning the art
of self-government. Are we fretful? Here we may learn patience: for a
great fund of patience is often demanded; and the more so as we are
apt, here, to be off our guard, and to yield to our unhappy feelings.
There are thousands who succeed very well in governing
themselves--their temper and their passions--while the eye of the world
is upon them, who, nevertheless, fail most culpably in this respect,
when at home, secluded, as they seem to think themselves, from
observation. Hence the importance of great effort to keep ourselves in
subjection in these circumstances; and hence, too, the value of a well
ordered and happy home.
Are we over-fond of excitement? Home is a sufficient cure for this--or
may be made so to those who ardently desire that it should be. Are we
desirous of forming our character upon the model of heaven? We are
assured, from the Author of Holy Writ, that the kingdom of heaven
consists in that simplicity, confidence, faith and love, which
distinguish the child.
In short--to repeat the sentence--there is no place on earth so nearly
resembling the heaven above, as a well ordered and happy family. If
your lot is cast in such a family, young reader, be thankful for the
favor, and strive to make the most of it. Not merely as a preparation
for standing at the head of such a family yourself; not merely as a
preparation for the work of teaching--although for this avocation I
know of nothing better; not merely because it is your duty, and you
feel that you _must_ do it; but because it is for your happiness--yes,
even for your life.
All character is formed in the school of trial; all good or valuable
character, especially. And--I repeat the sentiment--in no place or
department of this school are circumstances so favorable for such a
purpose, as what may, emphatically, be termed the _home department._
The family and the church are God's own institutions. All else, is more
or less of human origin: not, therefore, of necessity, useless--but
more or less imperfect. She who would obey the will of God in forming
herself according to the divine mode, must learn to value those
institutions, in some measure, as they are valued by Him, and love them
with a degree of the same love wherewith He loves them.
It will here be seen that I value domestic avocations so highly--giving
them, as I do, the preference over all other female employments--not as
an end, but as a means. It is because they secure, far better--other
things being alike--the grand result at which every female should
perpetually aim--the attainment of excellence. It is because they
educate us far better, physically, socially and morally--and with
proper pains and right management, they might do so
intellectually--than any other employment, for the great future,
towards which we are every day hastening.
This home school is--after all which has been said of schools and
education--not only the first and best school, especially for females,
but emphatically _the_ school. It is the nursery from which are to be
transplanted, by and by, the plants which are to fill, and beautify,
and perfect--if any perfection in the matter is attained--all our
gardens and fields, and render them the fields and gardens of the Lord.
Ton much has not been--too much cannot be--said, it appears to me, in
favor of this home department of female education--especially as a
means of religious improvement.
Young women thus trained, would not only be most fitly prepared for the
employment which, as a general rule, they are to follow for life, but
for every other employment to which they can, in the good providence of
God, ever be called. No matter what is to be their situation--no matter
even if it is merely mechanical, as in some factory, or as an
amanuensis--this apprenticeship in the family is not only highly
useful, but, as it seems to me, indispensable. Is not mind, and health,
and self-government--yes, and self-knowledge, too--as indispensable to
the individual who is confined to a bench or desk, as to any person who
is more active? Nay, are they not even much more so--since sedentary
employments have, in themselves, as respects mind and character, a
downward, and narrowing, and contracting tendency?
CHAPTER XVII.
FRUGALITY AND ECONOMY.
Economy becoming old fashioned. The Creator's example. Frugality and
economy should be early inculcated. Spending two pence to save one, not
always wrong. Examples of disregarding economy. Wasting small things.
Good habits as well as bad ones, go by companies. This chapter
particularly necessary to the young. Frugality and economy of our
grand-mothers.
Economy is another old fashioned word, which, like the thing for which
it stands, is fast going into disrepute; and in these days, it will
require no little moral courage in him who has any thing of reputation
at stake, to commend it--and above all, to commend it to young women.
What have they to do with economy? thousands might be disposed to ask,
were the subject urged upon their attention.
"Is there not something connected with the idea of economy, which
tends, necessarily, to narrow the mind and contract the heart?" This
question, too, is often asked, even by those whom age and experience
should have taught better things.
I am pained to find the rising generation so prone to discard both
frugality and economy, and to regard them as synonymous with
narrowness, and meanness, and stinginess. There cannot possibly be a
greater mistake.
May I not ask, without incurring the charge of irreverence, if there is
any thing more obvious, in the works of the Creator, than his wonderful
frugality and good economy? Where, in his domain, is any thing wasted?
Where, indeed, is not every thing saved and appropriated to the best
possible purpose? And will any one presume to regard his operations as
narrow, or mean, or stingy?
What can be more abundant, for example, than air and water? Yet is
there one particle too much of either of them? Is there one particle
more than is just necessary to render the earth what it was designed to
be? Such a thing may be said, I acknowledge, by the ignorant, and
short-sighted, and incautious. They vent their occasional complaints,
even against the Ruler of the skies, because the windows of heaven are,
for a time, shut up, and the rain falls not; and yet these very persons
are constrained to admit, in their more sober moments, that all is
ordered about right.
Be this as it may, however, there can be no doubt that a just measure
of frugality and economy is a cardinal virtue, and should be early
inculcated, even though it cost us some time and effort.
A great deal has been said, and no small number of words wasted, in
endeavoring to show the folly of spending two pence to save one;
whereas, to do so, in some circumstances, may be our highest wisdom. If
it be important to learn the art of _saving_--the art of being
_frugal_--then the art should be acquired, even if it costs something
in the acquisition. No one thinks of reaping the full reward of adult
labor in any occupation, the moment he begins to put his hand to it, as
a mere apprentice. Does he not thus, in learning his occupation or
trade--especially during the first years--spend two pence to save one?
Does not all preparation for the future, obviously involve the same
necessity?
I do not, certainly undertake to say that it is always proper--or
indeed, that it is often so--to spend more, in order to save less. I
only contend that it is sometimes so; and that to do so, may not only
be a matter of propriety, but also a duty.
Let me give an example. Young women are sometimes apt to acquire a
habit of being wasteful in regard to small things, such as pins,
needles, &c. Yet, to teach them, in these days of refinement, always to
pick up pins when they see them lying before them on the floor or
elsewhere, and put them into a pin-cushion, or in some suitable place,
would no doubt be considered as quite unreasonable.
But would not such a habit be exceedingly useful? Am I to be told that
it would be a great waste, since the value of the time consumed in thus
picking up pins and needles, would be more than twice the value of the
articles saved? Am I to be told that this is not only spending two
pence to save one, but that it is actually wicked? If so, by what art
shall a wasteful young woman be taught good habits?
I would certainly urge a young girl who was careless about pins,
needles, &c., to form the habit of picking up every one she found. I
would do so, to prevent her prodigal habits from extending to other
matters, and affecting and injuring her whole character. But I would
also do so, to cure the bad habit already existing. More than even
this; I advise every young woman who finds herself addicted to habits
which are opposed to a just frugality and economy, to begin the work of
eradicating them, without waiting for the promptings of her mother and
friends. Nor let her, for a moment, fear the imputation of meanness; it
is sufficient for her that she is doing what she knows to be right.
Good habits, as well as bad ones, like virtues and vices, are apt to go
in company. If one is allowed, others are apt to follow. First, those
most nearly related; next, those more remotely so; and finally,
perhaps, the whole company.
I would not dwell long on a subject like this, in a book for young
women, were I not assured that the case requires it. I see young women
every where, especially among the middling and higher classes, and in
great numbers too, exceedingly improvident; and not a few of them,
wasteful. The world seems to be regarded as a great store-house which
can never be exhausted, let them be as extravagant as they may. They
forget, entirely, the vulgar but correct adage, that "always taking out
of the meal tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom"-and
seem to take it for granted there is no bottom to their resources.
Our grand-mothers--our great grand-mothers, rather--were not ashamed of
frugality or economy. They were neither afraid nor unwilling to do what
they knew to be right, simply because it happened to be unfashionable.
I am not, indeed, either constitutionally or by age, one of those who
place the golden age exclusively in the past. I can see errors in the
conduct of our grand-mothers. But I also see in them excellencies; many
virtues of the sterner, more sober sort, which have been bartered for
modern customs--not to say vices--at a very great loss by the exchange.
What we have thus lost, I should be glad, were it possible, to restore.
CHAPTER XVIII.
SYSTEM.
General neglect of system in families. Successful efforts of a few
schools. Why the effects they produce a not permanent. Importance of
right education. Here and there system may be found. Blessedness of
having a mother who systematic. Let no person ever despair of
reformation. How to begin the work.
There is hardly any thing which the majority of our young women
hate--frugality and economy, and the study of themselves, perhaps,
excepted--so much as _system_. In this respect a few of our best
schools have, within a few years, attempted something; and, in a few
instances, with success. I could mention several schools for females,
whose teachers have done much more good by the habits of order and
system they have inculcated and endeavored to form, than by the
sciences they have taught.
The tendency of this excellent feature of a few of our institutions is,
however, pretty effectually counteracted by the general feeling of the
public, that the school is but a place of painful though necessary
restraint; and that when it is over, study is over--and with it, all
the system which had been either inculcated or practised. And though
not a few who have been thus compelled to live by system, for two or
three years, see plainly its excellent effects, and both they and their
parents acknowledge them, still the school is no sooner terminated,
than every thing of the kind is very likely to become as though it had
never been.
So long, however, as home is home, and all the associations therewith
are as delightful as they now are--and so long as the greater number of
our families live at random, regarding order as constraint, and method
and system as slavery--just so long will the feelings of the young of
each rising generation, revolt at every thing like order and system;
and though for the sake of peace, as well as other and various reasons,
they may be willing to conform to both, for a time, yet will they sigh,
internally, for the hour when their bondage shall cease, and the day of
their emancipation arrive. It is not in human nature, to look back to
the scenes, and customs, and methods--if methods they deserve to be
called, where all is at random--of early life, without a fondness for,
and an inward desire to return to them; and there are few so hardened
as not to do it whenever an opportunity occurs. How important,
then--how supremely so--is right education! How important to sow, in
the earliest years, the seeds of a love of order and system! How
important to young women, especially, that this work should not be
deferred; since if it is so, it is most likely to be deferred forever.
I know, full well, that here and there a house-keeper, convinced in her
conscience that she can do vastly more for herself and others, as well
as do it better, by means of system, than without it, attempts
something like innovation upon the usual random course which prevails
about her. She resolves to have her hours of labor, her hours of
recreation, and her hours of reading and visiting. She believes life is
long enough for all the purposes of life. She is resolved to be
systematic on Sabbath and on week days; in the common details of the
family; in dress; and in regard to the hours of rising, meals and rest.
But she has a herculean task to accomplish--no small part of which is,
to bring her husband and the other members of her family to co-operate
with her. Yet, amid every discouragement, she perseveres, and at length
succeeds. Is not such a victory worth securing?
Let the young woman who has such a person as I have just described, for
her mother, rejoice in it. She can never be too grateful, not only to
her mother, but to God. Her life is likely to be of thrice the usual
value. Our daughters who are blessed with such mothers, may become as
polished corner stones in a temple--worthy of themselves, of those who
educate them, and of God.
But let not those who have been less fortunate, in respect to maternal
training and influence, utterly despair. Convinced of the general
correctness of the views here advanced, and desirous of entering on the
work of reform, let them take courage, and begin it immediately. Though
the mother, by her influence in the early formation of character, is
almost omnipotent, she is not quite so. Though the Ethiopian cannot
change his skin, nor the leopard his spots, still it is not utterly
impossible for those to do well who have been long accustomed to do
evil. "What has been done," you know, "_can_ be done." Make this maxim
your motto, and go forward in the work of self-education. But remember
to begin, in the first place, with the smaller matters of life; and to
conquer in one point or place of action, before you begin with another.
And, lastly, remember not to rely wholly on your own strength. You are,
indeed, to work--and to work with all your might; but it is always God
that worketh in you, when any thing effectual is accomplished, in the
way of improvement.
CHAPTER XIX.
PUNCTUALITY.
Evil of being one minute too late. Examples to illustrate the
importance of punctuality. Case of a mother at Lowell. Her adventure.
General habits which led to such a disaster. Condition of a family
trained to despise punctuality.
No system can be carried on without both order and punctuality. I have
already said something, incidentally, on both of these topics; but
their importance entitles them to a separate consideration.
The importance of strict punctuality could be shown by appealing to
hundreds of authorities; but I prefer an appeal to the good sense of my
readers.
How painful it is, in a thousand instances of life, to be but one
minute too late; and how much evil it may, indeed, often does occasion,
both to ourselves and others!
"Think of the difference," says a spirited writer, "between arriving
with a letter one minute before the post-office is closed, and arriving
one minute after; between being at the stage-office a quarter of an
hour too soon, and reaching there a quarter of an hour too late;
between shaking a friend heartily by the hand as he steps on board his
vessel bound to the Indies, and arriving at the pier when the vessel is
under weigh, and stretching her wide canvass to the winds! Think of
this, and a thousand such instances, and be determined, through life,
to be in time."
Allow me to illustrate the important subject of which I am now
treating, by the case of a young mother. She wishes to go from Boston
to Lowell. She leaves Boston in the cars which go at eleven, and reach
Lowell soon after twelve. She goes to spend the afternoon with a sick
friend there, resolving to return at five--the hour when the last cars
leave Lowell for Boston. Her infant is left, for the time, in the hands
of a maiden sister--the husband being engaged in his shop, and hardly
knowing of her departure.
She spends the afternoon with her friend, and her services are very
acceptable. But ere she is aware, the bell at the railroad depot rings
for passengers to Boston. A few moments are spent in getting ready and
in exchanging the parting salutation with those friends who, though
aware of the danger of her being left, have not the honest plainness to
urge her to make speed. She is, at length, under way; but on arriving
at the depot, lo! the cars have started, and are twenty or thirty rods
distant.
What can she do? "Time and tide," and railroad cars, "wait for none."
It is in vain that she waves her handkerchief; the swift-footed
vehicles move on, and are soon out of sight! She returns, much
distressed, to the house of her sick friend, unfit to render her any
further service-to say nothing of the mischief she is likely to do by
exciting her painful sympathies.
But how and when is she to get home? There are no public means of
conveyance back to the city till to-morrow morning, and the expense of
a private conveyance seems to her quite beyond her means.
How could I be so late? she says to herself. How could I run the risk
of being thus left? Why was I not in season? What will my husband
think--especially as I came off without saying any thing to him about
coming? But this, though much to distress her, is not all, nor the
most. Her poor bade! what will become of that? Her friends endeavor to
soothe her by diverting her mind--but to no purpose, or nearly none:
she is half distracted, and can do nothing but mourn over her folly in
being so late.
But the weather is mild, and all is propitious without, except that it
is likely to be rather dark; and by means of the efforts of thoughtful
friends, a coach is fitted out with a careful driver, to carry her home
this very evening. It will take five hours in all; and as it is now
six, she will reach home at about eleven. The infant will not greatly
suffer before that time.
Finding herself fairly on the road, her feelings are somewhat composed,
and she just now begins to think what her husband will do, when he
comes from the shop at seven, and finds she has not arrived. She is
afraid he will be at the extra pains and expense to come after her; and
perhaps in the darkness pass by her, and go on to Lowell.
And her fears are partly realized. After much anxiety and some
complaining--which, however, I will not undertake to justify--the
husband is on the road with a vehicle, going to Lowell to assist her in
getting home. They meet about half way from place to place, and the
drivers recognize each other--though rather more than, in the darkness,
could have been expected. The coach from Lowell returns, and that from
Boston, taking in both passengers, wheels them back in haste to their
home. In their joy to find matters no worse, they forget to recriminate
each other, and think only of the timid sister with whom the infant was
left in charge: for in the hurry of getting off, the husband had made
no provision for quieting her fears of being alone. She passes the
time, however, in much less mental agitation than might have been
expected, and takes as good care as she can, of a fretful, crying,
half-starved babe. As the clock strikes one, the family are all quiet
in bed, and endeavoring to sleep.
How much uneasiness is here caused by being just about one minute (and
no more) too late! And whence came it? Not by her not knowing she was
running a risk by being tardy. Not that she had no apprehensions of
evil. Not because her conscience was uneducated, or unfaithful. It was
neither, nor any of these. There was, in the first place, a little want
of decision. She suffered herself to vacillate between a sense of duty
and the inclination to say a few words more, or bestow another parting
kiss. And in the second place, it was the wretched habit she had always
indulged, of delaying and deferring every thing she put her head or her
hand to, till the very last moment.
I will give you a brief but correct account of her general habits. Not
that the picture is a very uncommon one, but that you may view it in
connection with the anecdote I have related, and thus get a tolerable
idea of the inconveniences to which the wretched habit of which I have
spoken, is continually exposing her.
She makes it a rule--no, I will not say that, for she has no rules, but
she has a sort of expectation on the subject--to rise at five o'clock.
Yet I do not suppose she is up at five, six times in the year. She is
never awake at that timer or but seldom, unless she is awakened. Her
husband, indeed, makes it a sort of rule to wake her at that hour; but
he, alas, poor man! has no roles for himself or others; and if he
undertakes to awaken her at five, it is usually ten or fifteen minutes
afterward; and if she is let alone, she is often in bed till half past
five--oftener, indeed, than up earlier. The breakfast hour is six; but
I never knew the family to sit down at six. It is ten minutes, fifteen
minutes, thirty minutes, and sometimes forty-five minutes after six,
before the breakfast is on the table. The fire will not burn, and the
tea is not ready; or the milk or cream for the latter has not arrived;
or something or other is the matter--so she says, and so she
believes--and indeed sometimes so it is.
The dinner time is half past twelve-that is, professedly so; but it is
not once in twenty times that they sit down much before one
o'clock--and I have known it to be even later. So it is with supper;
and I might add, with every thing else. If an engagement is made,
directly or indirectly, positively or only implied, it is never
fulfilled at the time. She is never in her seat at church, till almost
every body else is in, and the services have commenced; although the
kind, but too indulgent parson waits some five or ten minutes for his
whole congregation--whom, alas! he has unwittingly trained to delay. In
short, she does nothing, and performs nothing, punctually, not even
going to bed; for this is deferred to a very late hour-sometimes till
near midnight.
Now herein is the secret--the foundation, rather--of her trouble at
Lowell. Had she been trained to punctuality in other things, she would,
in all probability, have been punctual there. The misfortune which I
have described, is but a specimen of what is ever and anon occurring in
the history of her life.
Nor are her sufferings--though they are severe--from her unhappy habit,
the end of the matter. I have already more than intimated that her
companion has caught the disease; but it is still more visible in the
conduct of her sons and daughters. They, like herself, seldom do any
thing at the proper time. They are never punctual in their engagements,
nor decided in their conduct. I know not, however, what the daughters
may yet do--several of them being quite young. If they should chance to
meet with better instructions than they are accustomed to
receive--should take warning, and do all they can in the way of
self-improvement--they may be able to break the chains of an inveterate
and almost unconquerable habit, and make themselves useful in their day
and generation.
I do think, most sincerely, that if all the rest of the world were
disorderly, or fell short in matters of punctuality, the young woman
should not do so. Let her, in every duty, learn to be in time. Let her
resolve to do every thing a little before the time arrives; nothing, a
moment after it.
The keeper of a boarding house, who is at the same time the principal
of one of our most flourishing schools for both males and females,
makes it a point to have every one of his boarders in their seats at
dinner, when the clock strikes twelve, which is the appointed hour.
And the late principal of a very highly distinguished female school in
Boston, used to have every exercise regulated by a clock kept in the
room; and whatever else was going on--whether it was finished or
unfinished--whenever the hour for another exercise arrived, it was
attended to. The whole school, as if with one impulse, seemed to obey
the hour, rather than the teacher. Such order and punctuality, every
where and in every thing, constitute the beauty of life; and I was
going to say, the beauty of heaven--of which this life should be a sort
of emblem. Heaven, in any event, is not only a world of order, but of
punctuality also; and she who goes there, must be prepared to observe
both, or it will be no heaven to her.
As I have strongly insisted in respect to the formation of other
important habits, so in regard to this. It must be commenced in the
smaller matters of life. Let the young woman be in time--that is, be
punctual--in the performance of what she regards as trifles, and when
she becomes a matron, she will seldom be tardy in what are deemed the
weightier matters.
I have spoken of the importance of punctuality, and have strongly
insisted that whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well. I am
now about to insist, with equal earnestness, that what is worth
beginning and performing well, is worth doing thoroughly, or finishing.
Some young women never do any thing thoroughly--even the smallest
matters. All their lives long, they live, as it were, by halves, and do
things by halves. If they commence reading a book, unless it is
something very enticing and exciting, they neither read it thoroughly
nor finish it. Their dress is never put on thoroughly; and even their
meals are not thoroughly eaten.
In regard to what is last mentioned, they fail in two respects. Either
through fear that they shall be unfashionable, if they use their teeth,
or from sheer carelessness in their habits, they never masticate their
food thoroughly; and they never seem to get through eating. The true
way is, to finish a meal in a reasonable time, and then let the matter
rest; and never be found eating between meals. Whereas, the class of
persons of whom I am speaking, seem never to begin or end a meal. They
are nibbling, if food chance to fall in their way, all their lives long.
But--to return to other habits than those which pertain to eating and
drinking--this want of thoroughness, of which I am speaking, wherever
it exists in a young woman, will show itself in all or nearly all she
does.
Suppose she is washing dishes, for example; something is left unwashed
which ought to have been washed; something is left only partly washed;
or the whole being done in a hurry, something is not set away in its
place, and along comes a child and knocks it over and breaks it.
Perhaps site is sewing. She is anxious to get her work along; and
though she know, how it ought to be done, she ventures to slight it
especially if it is the property of another. Or having done it well
till she comes near the end, the place where, perhaps, every thing
ought to be particularly firm and secure--ought to be done
thoroughly--she leaves a portion of it half done; and the garment gives
way before it is half worn.
Or she is cooking; and though every thing else is well boiled, a single
article is not well done--which gives an appearance of negligence to
the whole. At any rate, it is not done well; and she gets the credit of
not being a thorough house-keeper.
"For who hath despised the day of small things?" is a scriptural
inquiry on a most important subject; and were it not likely to be
construed into a want of reverence for sacred things, the same inquiry
might be made in regard to the matter before us. There is a universal
disposition abroad to despise small matters, and to stigmatize him who
defends their importance.
One might suppose a young woman would find out the mischiefs that
result from a want of thoroughness, by the inconvenience which
inevitably results from it. It is not very convenient or comfortable,
to be obliged to do a thing wholly over again, or suffer from want,
because a piece of work, very trifling in itself, was not done
thoroughly. Nor is it very convenient to go and wash one's hands every
time a lamp is used, because it was not thoroughly cleaned or duly put
in order, when it should have been. Nor is it easy to clean an elegant
carpet which has become soiled, or replace a valuable astral lamp, or
mirror, which has been broken, simply for the want of thorough
attention in those who have the care of these things. These little
inconveniences, constantly recurring, might rouse a person to
reflection, one would think, as effectually as occasional larger ones.
We do not, however, always find it so.
Young people ought to consider what a host of evils sometimes result
from a slight neglect. The trite saying--"For want of a nail, the shoe
was lost; for want of a shoe, the horse was lost; and for want of a
horse, the rider was lost"--will, however, illustrate this part of my
subject. Had the single nail which was omitted--the last one--been
driven, and driven properly; had the work, in short, been done
thoroughly, the shoe, horse and rider might all have been preserved.
Do not dread the imputation of being over-nice or whimsical, if you do
your work thoroughly. You must learn to regard your own sense of
right--your regard to duty--as a thing of far more importance than
either the sneers or the approbation of thousands of the unthinking. I
have heard an individual of great worth and respectability complain of
a young friend of his, because he made it a point to finish thoroughly
every thing he undertook, and charge him with having what he called a
_mania_ for finishing, I remember, too, a very worthy, and, in the
main, excellent farmer, who used to complain of a very conscientious
son of his, because, forsooth, he was determined to finish every thing
he began, in the best possible manner, without paying much regard to
the opinions of others. But these facts only show that wise and good
men may not fully understand the nature and power of habit--or the
necessity of being thorough in small as well as larger matters. The
first individual I have named, was forever suffering from his own want
of thoroughness--and was miserable through life; and the last would
have been far happier all his life time, had he been as much disposed
to finish the things he undertook, as his son.
CHAPTER XX.
EXERCISE.
The muscles, or moving power of the body. Their number and character.
Philosophy and necessity of exercise. Why young women should study
these. Various kinds of exercise. 1. Walking. 2. Gardening and
agriculture. 3. House-keeping. 4. Riding. 5. Local
exercises.--Difficulty of drawing the public attention to this subject.
The slavery of fashion. Consequences of the of fashionable neglect of
exercise. A common but shocking sight.
This is a highly important subject; and it is connected with an unusual
variety of topics. I beg the reader to exercise a little patience,
therefore, if, on this account, I extend it to an unusual length.
It should not be forgotten, that the human body is moved from place to
place, at the direction of the will, through the intervention of what
are called muscles--of which there are in connection with the whole
human frame, from four hundred to five hundred.
They are long bundles or portions of lean flesh, usually a little
flattened and somewhat rounded at their edges, and terminating at one
end--often at both--in a harder, flatter, white substance, called
tendon, which is fastened to the bone.
But I need not--and indeed I cannot--in a work like this, enter upon a
minute account of the human frame, or of any considerable portion of
it; especially so considerable a portion of it as the bony and muscular
systems. For such information, I must refer the reader to the work
alluded to in a previous chapter--"The House I Live In"--and, if her
leisure time will justify it, to still more extended works on anatomy
and physiology, which can be easily obtained.
Of the philosophy, and even the necessity, of exercise, however, I need
only say, in the present place--in addition to what has been said
already--that much of human health and happiness depends on the proper
development, and cultivation, and daily exercise of the whole muscular
system; and that the health, and happiness, and usefulness of young
women, are not less dependent on the right condition of the physical
frame--the bones and muscles among the rest--than in the case of other
classes of persons. I might even say, that of all classes of people in
the world--parents and teachers alone excepted--young women are most
imperiously called upon to attend to this subject.
It will now be my object to speak of the various kinds of exercise for
young women; and to treat of them in what I conceive to be the order of
their value.
1. _Walking_.--If I were residing in Great Britain, and writing for the
perusal of young women there, I suppose it would hardly be necessary to
urge very strongly the importance of walking as an exercise; for we are
told by accredited travellers, that not only females of the middle and
lower classes, but those of rank, also, are accustomed to this form of
exercise, to an extent which would surprise the young women of this
country. Neither do they go out attired in such a manner that a single
drop of water would annoy them, or spoil their happiness; but they go
prepared for the task. They have, as I understand, their coarser
clothes, and shoes, and head-dresses, for the purpose.
But here, in the United States--among the female sex,
especially--walking, like house-keeping and agriculture, has been, of
late years, regarded as drudgery--fit for none but the poor, or the
mean, or the eccentric. And when performed, it is seldom done in the
love of it.
Now it is well known to those who have studied the subject of exercise,
that, though walking is of inestimable importance--second, in all
probability, to no other form of mere exercise--it is, nevertheless, of
far the most value, when it is undertaken and pursued with pleasure.
While, therefore, I recommend it to young women, I do it in the hope
that they will not regard it as task-work--as mere drudgery. I hope
they will regard it as a source of pleasure and happiness.
To render it such, something more is required than merely to walk, in a
solitary manner, to a certain stone, or tree, or corner, or house--the
mind all the while unoccupied by any thing agreeable or useful--and
then to return as listless as they came. Such exercise, it is true,
will move the limbs, and do much to keep the bones and muscles in a
healthy state; and by the gentle agitation which is induced, will
promote the circulation of all the fluids, and the due performance of
all the functions of the body--except the function which pertains to
the brain and nervous system. It will do all this, I say; but it will
not do it so well, if the exercise is performed as a piece of
task-work, as it would if it were done cheerfully and voluntarily.
I counsel the young woman, therefore, who wishes to derive the utmost
possible benefit from walking, to contrive to make the exercise as
agreeable as possible. To this end, she should endeavor to have before
her--I mean before her mind--an agreeable object; or at least she
should be accompanied by an agreeable companion. Both are desirable;
but one of the two is indispensable.
As to the kind of object which should be held in view, I cannot, of
course, say much; nor need I--for it makes but little difference, so
far as the physical benefit to be derived from it is concerned. In
regard to the moral and intellectual advantages, however, which are to
be derived from it--to herself and to others--it makes a very great
difference indeed. She who goes in company with one or two, or a small
number of companions, on some benevolent errand--some work of mercy to
the ignorant, the sick, or the distressed--at once secures all the
physical, the intellectual, and the moral advantages to be derived by
herself, and confers inestimable blessings on others.
Let it not be said that it is not he duty of young women to go on such
errands of mercy. I know of no neighborhood, containing the small
number of twenty families, in which there are not individuals who need
to be fed, clothed, enlightened, encouraged, warmed or elevated. The
more elevated their present condition, as a general rule, the more can
be done to raise them still higher. The destruction of the poor, is
their poverty; and in like manner, the destruction of the ignorant, is
their ignorance. People must know something, in order to know more; and
in like manner, must they possess something, in order to value our
charities, and make a wise use of them.
If it should be urged, that in speaking of the advantages of walking, I
have hitherto addressed myself to a small class of the community,
only--that those who are compelled to labor, have not the time
necessary for walks of love, instruction or charity--I reply, that this
does not lessen the importance of what has been said to those
individuals to whom it is applicable. Walking is nature's own exercise;
and will always be her best, when it can be performed. Nor would many
in New England think themselves so poor as to be unable to afford it,
were they aware of a tenth part of its general importance, and did they
but know how to live orderly and systematically. Two hours of active
walking a day, are worth a great deal; and no one who can walk briskly
and cheerfully, and without very great fatigue, _three_ hours, need to
complain of want of exercise. I must omit, of course, in a work like
this, intended for young women, the mention of any motion more rapid
than walking. Running, to those who have passed into their teens, would
be unfashionable; and who could endure the charge of disregarding the
fashions? Who could risk the danger of being regarded as a romp?
I am informed by a traveller of the most undoubted veracity, that
females of the highest classes, in some parts of Europe--the daughters
of Fellenberg, the Swiss educator, for example--do not hesitate, at
times, to engage in the athletic and healthy exercises of skating and
coasting. I have even been told that the same remark might be applied,
to some extent, to the females of the state of Maine.
2. _Gardening and Agriculture._--Here again I shall be treading on
dangerous ground, as I am fully aware. As in the former ease, however,
so in the present, I shall not be wholly alone. There are those who
have dared to jeopardize their reputation by insisting on light
agricultural and horticultural employments for females, young and old,
who cannot, or who suppose they cannot find time for walking; and to
the list of this sort of unfashionables, my name, I suppose, must be
added. To those who do not and cannot enjoy the benefit of active and
pleasurable walking abroad, these employments are unquestionably the
best substitutes. When these are wholly depended upon for exercise,
however, they should be pursued at least from two to four hours in a
day; and the constitutions of some will require much more than even
four hours.
Let not the hardy, healthy young woman alone, be employed in this
manner. It is useful and necessary, indeed, to her; but it is still
more so to her in whom, to a light skin with light eyes and hair, are
joined a slender frame, a narrow chest, and an unnatural and sickly
delicacy. Whether this delicacy is the result of staying in the house,
almost entirely secluded from light, air, and the extremes of heat and
cold, or is inherited, makes very little difference. She who has it
needs a great deal of exercise.
3. _House-keeping_.--Next to walking, and agricultural and
horticultural exercise, house-keeping--or, as it is familiarly called,
house-work--is probably the most healthy, and ought to be the most
agreeable. And yet the bare statement of the fact, will be enough to
induce many a fair reader, as I doubt not, to turn aside with pain and
disgust.
The reasons why this employment is so healthy, are many and various.
One is found in the fact, that it requires such a variety of exercise.
Like farming and gardening, it calls into action, in the course of a
day, and especially in the course of a week, nearly every considerable
muscle of the body.
All these exercises seem, at first view, to have some advantages over
walking. It should be remembered however, that nearly every muscle, and
tendon, and bone in the whole human frame, is agitated, if it is not
employed, in walking; and if the limbs are employed much the most,
still the continued action of the whole body, though gentle, is in a
few hours quite sufficient for all the purposes of health.
Every young woman should be determined to attend to, and understand,
every kind of house-work. If a few kinds--as washing, for example--seem
to be beyond her strength, she should only attend to them in part,
according as she is able. It is pitiable to see a young woman of
twenty, twenty-five or thirty, who cannot make bread, or iron a shirt,
or boil a pudding--ay, and who cannot make and mend clothes, if
necessary--simply because she has never been required to do it. Still
more pitiable is it, as I have already said, to find those who have
never done it, because they thought it would be demeaning
themselves--or because they have acted upon the principle of doing
nothing for themselves or others, as long as they can help it.
It is scarcely possible that a young woman twenty years of age, has not
had ample opportunities for learning to do all kinds of house-work,
provided it has been her fixed resolution to improve them; and I am
fully assured that house-keeping, actively and cheerfully pursued, in
all its parts, is sufficient to secure a tolerable measure of health to
every individual. And yet I am equally confident, that if walking, or
out-of-door labor, were superadded to this, in the way I have proposed
and recommended, she would derive from it many important advantages,
besides being still healthier. Indeed, no person, in any employment
whatever, is so healthy as to exclude all possibility of further
improvement. It is not yet known how healthy an individual may become.
4. _Riding._--Horseback exercise, for those who cannot enjoy any of the
three modes of which I have already spoken, is excellent. It is
particularly valuable where there is a tendency to lung complaints,
whether induced by wearing too tight a dress, or in any other manner.
It should not be forgotten, however, that if the chest is very greatly
diseased, this exercise may be one of the worst which could be taken.
As to riding in a carriage, unless it is an open one, I must honestly
say I do not like it, as an exercise for those who can secure that
which is better. Indeed, except for a medicinal purpose, I always
prefer one of the three kinds named above. And as for medicine, I would
have young women so live, and especially so exercise, as to have no
occasion for it. But on this subject I intend to say something in
another place.
I do not believe life is long enough, in general, to allow us to
indulge, to any great extent, either in what are commonly regarded as
passive exercises, or in amusements, _as such:_ I speak now of those
who are above twelve years of age. Not that those who are over twelve,
do not need amusement. I would have every thing amusing--or at least
interesting. I mean simply to say, that walking, and running, and
gardening, and farming, and house-keeping, usually involve enough of
physical exercise for health; and that where these are duly attended
to--or even any one of them--what are commonly called amusement's will
hardly be needed. In earlier life, they unquestionably may be. But I do
not think well of passive exercises for any person, so long as they can
be avoided. And heterodox as the advice may be regarded, I cannot help
counselling the young, above all, never to ride in an easy carriage, or
a railroad, or in a steamboat or other vessel or ship, as long as they
can pursue the lawful purposes of life, in a lawful and proper manner,
by means of walking. It is soon enough to ride when we cannot walk.
Those who are desirous to glorify God in _whatever they do_, as Paul
expresses it, will understand and feel the force of what I am now going
to say; while those who make it their business, in this world, to seek
happiness, without being careful to do it through the medium of
personal excellence or holiness, will perhaps only smile at what they
suppose is a mere eccentricity of opinion.
5. _Local Exercise_.--I have intimated that the bones and muscles, the
brain and nerves, the stomach and intestines, the liver, the chyle
apparatus, the lungs, and the skin; are all more or less exercised and
benefited by walking, running, gardening, house-keeping, or riding on
horseback. Still, other exercises will be necessary, in addition to all
these. But much that I wish to say on these points will be found in
subsequent chapters. It is only necessary for me to observe, in this
place, that all the organs of the body, internal or external, together
with all the senses, require, nay, demand, their appropriate or, as I
might say, their particular exercise; and this, not only daily, but
some of them much oftener.
The brain and nervous system require observation and reflection; and
even, in my view, considerable hard study. This is their appropriate
and necessary exercise. There are, indeed, those who exercise their
brains too much; but for one who suffers from thinking too much, a
dozen suffer from thinking too little.
The stomach and intestines require such food as will call them into
proper action. That which is highly difficult of digestion may cause
them to over-act; and this, to those whose vital powers are feeble,
would be injurious. On the other hand, that which is too easy of
digestion, will not afford the stomach exercise enough; and hence, in
time, if its use is long continued, will be equally injurious. But once
more. Concentrated substances--substances, I mean, consisting of pure
nutriment, or that which is nearly so--such as oil, sugar, gum, &c.--do
not afford the right kind of exercise to the stomach; for it is the
appropriate work of this organ, and of the other internal organs--and
not of machinery of human invention--to separate the nutritious part
from that which is innutritious; and, therefore, that food affords the
best sort of labor to the stomach which contains, along with a full
supply of nutriment, a good deal of innutritious substance.
The exercise of the lungs consists not only in their full and free
expansion in breathing, but in speaking, singing, &c., and even in
laughing. Physiologists also consider sneezing, coughing and crying,
especially the latter, as having their advantages, in early infancy,
and perhaps, in same circumstances, even afterward.
In like manner do the eye and the ear, the tongue and the teeth, the
hands and the face--and indeed every part of the system--require their
appropriate exercise. This is not true of the merest infancy and
childhood alone, but also, for the most part, of youth and manhood.
Conversation, to a certain extent, is, for aught I know, as necessary
to the health of the vocal organs, as to that of the lungs. Nor are the
benefits of mastication confined wholly to the process of digestion. It
is fully believed by distinguished physiologists, that the teeth
themselves will last longer for being considerably used; and they seem
to be borne out in this conclusion by facts. But if this is the case,
what are we to think of the importance of light to the eye, sound to
the ear, employment to the hands, &c.?
It is extremely difficult to induce the young to pay any attention to
this important subject, as a matter of duty, even in some of its most
obvious points and parts. Some of them will, it is true, use exercise
enough of a particular kind, and at particular times; but the idea of
attending to it as a matter of duty, is exceedingly hard for them to
receive or entertain.
Few things are more pitiable, than the sight of young persons of either
sex, so entirely enslaved to fashion, that they dare not labor in the
garden, or the kitchen, or even walk briskly, lest somebody should
observe and speak of it. It is not to be wondered at--trained as the
young of both sexes are, to demand incessant excitement--that they
should dislike walking, and every thing else of the more active kind,
and sigh for the chaise, the coach, the sleigh, the car and the
steamboat; but it does seem to me strange, that contrary to nature,
they should seek their happiness in passive exercises alone, forgetful
of their limbs, and hands, and feet. It is passing strange, that any
tyrant should be able--even Fashion herself--so to change the whole
current of human feeling, as to make a sprightly buoyant young girl of
ten years of age, become at thirteen a grave, staid or mincing young
woman, unable--rather, unwilling--to move except in a certain style,
and then only with an effort scarcely exceeded by the efforts of those
who are suffering from inquisitorial tortures.
No young woman who has a conscientious desire for improvement, and who
is acquainted with the merest elements of physiological knowledge,
could or would submit, for one day, to such abominable tyranny. She
could not but be afraid thus to disobey the natural and reasonable laws
of her Maker.
The consequences of this premature inactivity of the human frame, on
the future well being of that frame, have never been half told: nor do
I know that they can be--at least for some time to come.
I scarcely ever prescribed for one of these _staid_ young women,
without very great pain. To see a machine evidently made by its
Almighty Architect for a great deal of motion, and made to run on with
exactness for a hundred years or more, (were due care taken to preserve
it in good order,) completely deranged, because Fashion says that
motion is ungraceful or unbecoming--what, in a physical point of view,
can be more lamentable!
To see woman denied, daily, by Fashion's nonsensical decrees, the
pleasure which every healthy person feels in the use of his limbs, with
their hundreds of muscles and tendons, and kept not only inactive, but
almost secluded from air and light--who is not almost ashamed that he
belongs to the same species? Yet such things are quite common among as,
and they are constantly becoming more so.
CHAPTER XXI.
REST AND SLEEP.
Why rest and sleep are needed. Sleep a condition. We should sleep in
the night. Moral tendency of not doing so. Is there any moral character
in such things? Of rest without sleep. Good habits in regard to sleep.
Apartments for sleep. Air. Bed. Covering. Temperature. Night clothing.
Advice of Macnish on the number of persons to a bed. Preparation for
sleep. Suppers. The more we indulge in sleep, the more sleep we seem to
require. The reader indulged to study laws of rest and sleep. An appeal.
The moving powers of the human body are so constructed by the grand
Mover of all things, that they require rest as well as action. And of
the many hundreds of muscles and tendons in the living system, it is
not known that there is one which could continue its action,
uninterruptedly, for any considerable time, without serious injury.
Even the muscular fibres of the heart rest a part of the time, between
the beats and pulsations. Whether the brain--which is of course without
muscular fibres--can act incessantly in the production of thought, is a
question which I believe is not yet settled by meta-physicians. One
thing we do know, however, which is, that if the other organs suffer
for want of rest, we soon find that by the law of sympathy and
otherwise, the brain and nervous system suffer along with them; and if
our wakefulness is greatly protracted, they sometimes suffer very
severely.
I have said that all the moving powers of the body require rest. They
do; and in the young, a good deal of it. It is in vain for mankind--the
young especially--to abridge their hours of sleep, whether for selfish
or benevolent purposes. Sleep is made by the Creator a condition of our
being and happiness; and he who complies not with this condition, is
unworthy of the boon.
Sleep, moreover, should be had at the right season. It is useless to
think of sleeping during the day-time, and keeping awake during the
night, with impunity. For many facts are on record, showing in vivid
colors the mischiefs which result, sooner or later, from thus turning
day into night, and night into day. Need I present these facts? They
are found, in greater or less numbers, in almost every work on health
or physiology. I will present but one. It is from Valangin.
Two colonels in the French army, sometime ago, had a dispute whether it
was most safe to march in the heat of the day, or in the evening. To
ascertain this point, they obtained permission of the commanding
officer to put their respective plans into execution. Accordingly, the
one with his division marched during the day, although it was in the
heat of summer, and rested all night. The other, with his men, slept in
the day-time, and marched during the evening and part of the night. The
result was, that the first performed a journey of six hundred miles
without losing a single man or horse; while the latter lost most of his
horses, and several of his men.
Of course, the inference from this, and other similar facts, is, that
night is the time for sleep, and not day. Is it said that every person
knows this? But every person does not practise accordingly. There are
those who either do _not_ know the fact--and not a few young women,
too; may be found among the number--or who, knowing it, do not act
according to their knowledge. Is it not more charitable to conclude
they do not know the fact?
Franklin, indeed, once undertook to show, in his humorous way, that the
inhabitants of Paris did not know that the sun gave light at its first
rising. Whether they did know it or not--or whether or not they were
culpable for their ignorance, provided it was voluntary--shall hold my
readers to be as truly guilty of doing _that_ wrong which is the result
of their own voluntary ignorance, as if their minds were really
enlightened. The young woman who goes to bed so late that she cannot
wake till it has been day for some time--or who darkens her room on
purpose that the day-light may not interrupt her repose when it
comes--and who knows, at the same time, that it is wrong to sleep by
day-light, except from the most absolute necessity--is as truly guilty,
as if she slept by day-light with her windows open.
I believe the night is long enough for sleep in any latitude not higher
than fifty degrees; and comparatively few of the human family reside
much farther than this towards the poles.
The young woman who finds herself inclined to sleep after day-light,
should resolve to break the habit as soon as possible. In order to do
this, however, she should believe herself able to do it.
Here it will be rational to ask whether, after all, there is any moral
character in the error, if it be one, of sitting up an hour later than
usual, and then making it up by sleeping an hour after the arrival of
day-light;--whether it is not a matter of _propriety_, merely, rather
than a question of positive right or wrong in the sight of Heaven.
This question I have answered in the chapter on Conscientiousness--to
which, in order to prevent repetition, I might refer the reader. If
there be a sort of actions to which no character, good or bad, can
justly be attached, then what did the apostle mean in requiring that
_whatever we do_ should be done to the glory of God? and where is the
line to be drawn between those actions which are too small or too
trifling to be worthy of having any right or wrong attached to them,
and those which are not? But if every thing we do is either right or
wrong, then there is a right and a wrong in regard to the particular
class of actions of which I am just now treating.
The object of sleep should be to restore us, and fit us for renewed
action. We may rest, to some extent, without sleep; as when we throw
ourselves upon a sofa, or sit in an easy chair. Indeed, there is no
hour of the day in which some portions of the moving powers are not
resting, more or less. Still we cannot be wholly restored, in body and
mind, without the soothing influence of
"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep."
Every young woman should regulate her habits in regard to sleep and
rest--not less than all her other habits--in such a way as will tend
most to the good of her whole nature and as will consequently tend most
to the glory of God. In other words, every person should be governed,
in this matter, by true philosophy and Christian principle. This would
lead to the following axioms or conclusions, every one of which is
sustained by high authority.
Apartments for sleep should, if possible, be large and airy--and not on
a ground floor, or in too dark a corner of the building.
The air of the room should circulate freely; although it is not
considered safe to be exposed to currents of air. To this end, the bed
should be rather large and loose; and should stand out from the all,
and from the corners of the room; and should be without curtains, even
in the coldest weather.
The bed ought to be rather hard; but it should, at any rate, be cool.
Soft, yielding feather beds, in which the body sinks deeply, are very
injurious, on account of the unnatural heat and perspiration they are
sure to induce. It is of little consequence what the material of your
bed is, if it be light, dry and porous, and not too soft. Straw, grass,
husks, hair, and a great variety of other things, have been employed.
Almost any thing--I repeat it--is better than feathers. The same
remarks will apply to pillows.
We should sleep with as little covering as we can, and not actually
feel cold and chilly. Most persons sleep under a great deal too much
clothing. We require more in cold than in warm weather. We also require
more on first going to bed, than when we get fairly warm but as it
usually happens that we get warm and go to sleep at nearly the same
time, it follows, that the clothing which was only sufficient to warm
us, remains on the bed all night. We ought not to put on so much
clothing as we are apt to do when we first go to bed--and then we shall
not be likely to sleep all night under too much clothing, and wake up
in the morning weakened by it.
The temperature of the room must never be overlooked. It should be as
cold as it can well be made, and not be absolutely uncomfortable.
One reason for this is, that the oxygen, or vital principle of the air,
which is more abundant in a given volume of cool air than in an equal
amount of that which is warmer, will last longer when the room is cool,
and the room will thus remain free from impurity.
Another reason is, that ratified air not only contains less oxygen in a
given volume, as I have already said, but also appears to admit more
readily of the admixture and thorough diffusion of bad gases. The
carbonic acid gas which is formed by breathing, settles the more
readily towards the floor, in proportion to the general density of the
atmosphere of the room; and if the bed-room be large, so that it does
not accumulate in such a quantity as to rise higher than the bedstead,
it is less likely to be breathed over again, than if the atmosphere
were more rare.
But there is still another reason for having our bed-clothes
cool--though it is substantially the same with that mentioned in a
preceding paragraph for having light rooms, beds, and light covering.
We are greatly debilitated by sleeping unnecessarily warm. Our vital
powers should be trained to generate a good deal of heat; and what they
have been trained to do, they should continue to perform. All the heat,
I say, therefore, which the body will manufacture for itself, readily,
it should be permitted to do. But the moment we depend, unnecessarily,
on external means of warmth--as too much or too soft and warm bed
clothing, and too warm an atmosphere--that moment our internal organs
begin to be enervated, in a greater or less degree, whether we are
sensible of it or not.
We should not sleep in the clothes we have worn during the day. This is
not on account of the heat it may induce, but on account of the bad air
which our clothing confines. By having extra clothes for the night, and
those very few indeed, and taking a little pains with those we have
worn during the day--to hang them up and air them properly--we may do
much towards keeping the pores of our bodies open, and preserving the
skin in a clean state, and in a condition to perform its accustomed
work.
We should also avoid damp clothing about our beds or bed-rooms. A
healthy person may get slightly wet in the early part of the day, and
even remain wet for a short time, especially if he continues in action,
without injury: but it is by no means safe to sit down, or lie down, in
wet or damp clothing; and it is more unsafe to do so at the close of
the day, than it is in the morning. A vast amount of disease--colds,
rheumatism, fever and consumption--is generated or aggravated in this
way.
What I have here said of the conditions of sleep, is sustained, as I
have already informed the reader, by high authority; I mean that of
Macnish. He says, further, that "the practice of having two or three
beds in one room, and two or three individuals in each bed, must be
deleterious;" and that wherever it is necessary for more than one
person to sleep in a single bed, "they should take care to place
themselves in such a position as not to breathe in each others' faces."
He also alludes to the custom of covering the head with the
bedclothes--and calls it, as he ought to do, "a dangerous custom."
Macnish also gives the following directions on this subject:
"Before going to bed, the body should be brought into that state, which
gives us the surest chance of dropping speedily asleep. If too hot, its
temperature ought to be reduced by cooling drinks, [Footnote: By
cooling drinks. Macnish cannot surely mean drinks of a low temperature,
for these would be somewhat injurious in the evening. He means by
cooling, not _heating_ or _irritating_.] exposure to the open air,
sponging, or even the cold bath. If too cold, it must be brought into a
comfortable state by warmth. For both cold and heat act as stimuli, and
their removal is necessary before sleep can ensue.
"A full stomach, also, though it sometimes promotes, generally prevents
sleep; consequently, supper ought to be dispensed with, except by those
who, having been long used to this meal, cannot do without it. As a
general rule, the person who eats nothing for two or three hours before
going to rest, will sleep better than he who eats a late supper. His
sleep will also be more refreshing; and his sensations upon awaking,
much more gratifying."
The cold bath at going to bed, taken to reduce our heat, because we are
too warm, is of rather doubtful utility. Some may use it with entire
safety; but to the feeble, or those who have been greatly over-heated
or over-fatigued, it would be hazardous.
By supper, Macnish means, no doubt, that fourth meal so common in
fashionable life, and not the usual third meal at six o'clock Those who
never heard of a fourth, have no occasion for caution on this subject,
except it be in regard to quantity. This third meal, however, even when
it is eaten three hours before going to bed, should be light.
In order to sleep properly, let all the conditions which I have
mentioned be faithfully observed. Then to these let there be added a
most strict and conscientious regard for the rule which I have
suggested in the beginning of this chapter--which is, to rise early.
Let no young woman be found in bed after day-light, in the longest
days; nor in the winter, after four o'clock.
Some will say, that at this rate they should not get sleep enough
during the night; and should, as a consequence, either be dull during
their waking hours, or be obliged to take a nap in the day-time. But if
our hard-laboring people who rise at four o'clock in the summer, find
time enough to sleep--most of them--without a nap in the day-time,
surely they whose labor is not so hard, can do it. They cannot, I well
know, if they sit up till ten or eleven o'clock at night.
If any one desires to glorify God in every thing she does, let her
attend to the conditions I have mentioned. If she finds that in rising
at daylight she does not get sleep enough, let her go to bed a little
earlier. We ought to sleep about as much before midnight as after; and
she who goes to bed at eight, and rises at four, will be pretty sure to
get sleep enough. Few if any persons over twelve years of age, need
more than eight hours sleep; and the greater proportion not so much.
Here I will mention one thing which does not seem to be generally
known. The more we sleep, if we increase our sleep by degrees, the more
we may. How far the time for sleep may be thus extended, I do not know.
There are, indeed, circumstances which may make the same individual
require less or more sleep, independent of the habit of indulgence:
still it is true, as a general fact, that we may sleep as much or as
little as we please.
When we increase the hours of sleep, however, it does not follow that
we actually _sleep_ more in the same proportion. Let an active
individual, who has been accustomed to six hours, suddenly confine
herself to four. Will her actual sleep be abridged one third? By no
means. Nature will endeavor to make up for the loss of time by inducing
sounder sleep.
In this, however, she is only in part successful. For those who sleep
so very soundly, often sleep _too_ sound. We are sometimes conscious,
when we awake from an over-sound sleep, that we are not well refreshed;
but whether conscious of it or not, it is so. Macnish says--"That sleep
from which we are easily roused, is the healthiest; very profound
slumber partakes of the nature of apoplexy."
A person who, having been in the habit of sleeping six hours in
twenty-four, suddenly reduces the number to four, will, probably, for a
time, sleep as much in four hours as she slept before in about five, or
five and a half. But the _quality_ of these five or five and a half
hours' sleep will be inferior, and continue so, unless she arouses
herself to an increased activity of her intellectual powers, and
reduces the quantity of her food and drink.
I have supposed it to be generally known, that we need the more sleep,
or seem to need it, in proportion as our minds are less active, and our
bodily appetites hold us more in subjection. The individual, male or
female, who approaches most nearly to the more stupid lower animals in
point of intelligence, activity and general habits, will actually seem
to require the most sleep; and, on the contrary, in proportion as an
individual rises above all this, and becomes exceedingly active in
mind, body and spirit, will the necessity for sleep be greatly
diminished. Some of the most elevated of the human race, in point of
intelligence, benevolence, and benevolent activity or spirituality have
required but very little sleep. Of this number were Wesley, Matthew
Hale, Alfred the Great, Jeremy Taylor, Baxter, Bishops Jewel and
Burnet, Dr. John Hunter, Dr. Priestly, and Sobieski--as well as
Frederick the Great, Gen. Elliot, Lord Wellington, and Napoleon. Of the
same number, too, are some of our modern missionaries--to say nothing
of several distinguished statesmen, among whom is Lord Brougham.
In view of these considerations, is there one of my readers, who, while
she endeavors to sleep enough to answer every valuable purpose of her
existence, on penalty of more or less suffering, will not guard, with
the same assiduity, against sleeping too much? Aware that the more she
indulges herself, the more she may, because she will become by so much
the more stupid--and that the more she denies herself sleep, provided
it is not to such an extent that her sleep becomes apoplectic, the more
will her intellectual powers be developed and acquire the ascendency,
and her animal nature be brought into subjection--will she not exert
herself to the utmost, and pray for aid from on high, in striving to
gain the victory over herself--her lower self--her animal self--and
thus increase the duration and value of her existence?
I do not urge the consideration of the great amount of time, merely,
which may be saved by rising early. Some have attempted to show that
they who rise two hours earlier every morning than usual, gain an
amount of time in sixty years--viz., from the age of ten to that of
seventy--equal to about seven years of active life. Is it not obvious
that there may be mistake here? For if she who rises two hours earlier,
goes to bed as much earlier at right, no time is saved at all. And if
without going to bed any earlier, she is rendered so much more dull or
sleepy during the day, that she loses two hours, or even one, this will
form a proportional deduction from her supposed gain. It is she only,
who, while she sleeps all which her nature really demands, and takes
care not to exceed the demand, succeeds also in lessening the demand
itself, that is the real gainer.
It is a pitiable sight to see an immortal being, made in the image of
Almighty God, and capable, by divine aid, of enjoying Him forever,
rendering himself sleepy, brutish, or besotted, by the form of
indulgence of which I am now speaking. And it seems to me still more
pitiable--indeed, absolutely disgusting--to see females doing this; and
especially, intelligent _young_ women!
I wish every reader would take this subject of wasting time in sleep
into serious, and conscientious, and prayerful consideration. Let her
remember that her time is not hers, any more than she herself is her
own; that both are "bought with a price"--an amazing price, too! How
can she, then, waste time-a single moment of it? Yet people will do it.
Hundreds, and thousands, and millions, will do it. Some will do
it--many, I fear--who have professed the Christian name, and who
believe that they bear in their bodies the marks of their dying Lord
and Master.
I will close this chapter by briefly summing up what has been said. Let
your sleep be in the night; not in the day-time. Let it be, moreover,
in the _middle_ of the night, as much as possible. To sit up till near
midnight, and to get up just after midnight, are perhaps equally
injurious, though not by any means equally common. Spend the close of
each day at home; and go to bed early, with an empty or nearly an empty
stomach, a cheerful temper, a quiet mind, and a good conscience. Let
the air be pure, yourself pure, your clothing and bed simple and cool,
and your room also cool. Wake with the first rays of the morning in
summer, and about the same hour in winter. Get up as soon as you awake;
and if your sleep has been insufficient, go to rest a little earlier
the succeeding evening. Thus will you at once discharge your duty, and
obtain peace here and hereafter.
CHAPTER XXII
INDUSTRY.
Education to industry. Man naturally a lacy animal. Indolence in
females. Hybernation. Every young woman ought to be trained to support
herself, should necessity require it, and to aid in supporting others.
She should, at least, be always industrious. Kinds of labor. Mental
labor as truly valuable as bodily.
What ordinary virtue is there more commendable in the young, than
industry? On this account, and in this view it is, that well disposed
parents sometimes employ their children in a way not absolutely, or in
itself, useful to them, for the sake of the general habit. Such parents
are certainly excusable, even if their example should not be regarded
as commendable, or as worthy of being followed.
Dr. Good, the well known theological, philosophical and medical writer,
avows the belief that man is naturally lazy; that he would not so much
as lift a finger if he could help it; and that all his activity grows
out of a desire to avoid present or future suffering, or pain. Perhaps
this is carrying the matter rather too far; since we see young children
positively active, not so much from the desire of avoiding pain, as
from that of procuring pleasure. But however untrue it may be in regard
to children, it is unquestionably true of many adults; and of some, it
is to be feared, of both sexes.
Of all lazy persons, however, I dislike most to see a lazy young woman.
Destined by her Creator at once to charm, instruct and improve the
world around her, by her looks, her words and her actions--and this to
a degree which no female has ever yet attained--how exceedingly painful
is it to see her floating along the stream of inaction or
insignificance, without making one considerable effort to arouse her
faculties--bodily, mental and moral--from their half dormant condition.
Too many females who are trained in the bosom of ease and abundance,
have no idea of any attempts at benevolent effort, or even of active,
untiring industry. If they are not more selfish than the other sex,
they are scarcely less so. They live but for themselves, and seem to
desire no more. Granting, as we sometimes do, that this is the fault of
their education, is it therefore the less pitiable?
I have already urged the importance of self-dependence. Every healthy
young woman ought to be so trained, as to be able to make her own way
through the world without becoming at all its debtor. I speak now not
merely of her moral, and intellectual, and domestic efforts, but also
of her physical ones. I care not what her rank or condition may be;
every American young woman ought to be able, in the common language of
the community; to support herself through life.
I must insist on even more than this. She ought to be able, in point of
bodily efficiency, to do something for the support of others; and not
merely something, but a great deal. I am not ignorant of the low rate
of female wages--disproportioned, altogether so, to their comparative
value in the scale of human happiness. And yet, with all necessary
abatements, I hold that all healthy females ought to be able to support
themselves, should necessity require it, and to aid in supporting
others.
Whether, however, their labor supports themselves, or more than does
it, is not so much the question, as whether they are truly industrious.
An aged woman, who at ninety was often found at her spinning wheel, and
always at active employment--though by no means indigent--was
accustomed to say, that every person ought to strain every nerve to get
property as long as life lasts, as a matter of duty. I would not say
quite so much as this; but I do say that every person, no matter what
may be her rank or circumstances, ought to be industrious, from early
life to the last moment. Such a person, male or female, will seldom
want means of support, and even of distributing "to him that needeth;"
but should such a thing happen, it is of no very great importance. She
will at least die with the consciousness of having spent her life in
active industry, and of having benefited somebody, though she may have
spent less on herself.
As to the kind of labor or exercise in which females ought to engage, I
have perhaps said enough already. I will only add, that I consider a
person as industrious, and as truly worthy of reward--I mean pecuniary
reward--in performing valuable mental or moral labor a part of her
time, as she who is engaged the whole time with her hands; and I know
of no propriety in the custom which has led to the valuation of things
by a different standard. I know of no reason, for example, why a young
woman who, as a sister, or as a daughter, or as a friend merely,
contributes, by wise management, to keep an aged parent or an infant
child, or any other person, happy--though it were only by cheerful
conversation, or by relating stories fore an hour or so,
occasionally--I know not, I say, why she is not as truly entitled to
the rewards of industry, as though she were employed in furnishing
bread or clothing to the same persons. Are the affections, and
passions, and knowledge, and excellence, of less value than the rewards
of manual labor, in money or property? And is not mental or spiritual
labor at least as valuable as bodily?
CHAPTER XXIII.
VISITING.
Is there no time for relaxation? May there not be passive enjoyments?
Passive enjoyments sometimes wrong. How Christian visits should be
conducted. Duty and pleasure compatible. Passive visits useful to
childhood. Folly of morning calls and evening parties. Bible doctrine
of visiting Abuse of visiting.
But is a young woman to be always actively employed? Is not time to be
allotted her for mere passive enjoyments? May she never unbend her mind
from what is called duty? May she never lay herself, as it were, on the
bosom of her family and friends? May she never seat herself on the
living green, amid roses and violets, or on the mossy bank studded with
cresses or cowslips, and laved by the crystal stream? May she never
view the silver fish as he leaps up, and "dumbly speaks the praise of
God?" May she never wander abroad for the sake of wandering, or ride
for the sake of riding; or gaze on the blue ethereal by day, or the
star-spangled canopy by night?
Far be it from me to say any such thing; for I know not to whom such
exercises, _as such exercises merely_, may or may not be necessary.
That they may be useful to many, cannot be doubted; but that they are
far from being useful, or even innocent, to _all_, is quite as certain.
It is certain, I say, that mere passive exercises are not only
unnecessary with many, but sometimes wrong. The young woman who is
trained, or who has commenced training herself, on truly Christian
principles, and who enjoys a tolerable measure of health, will hardly
find special seasons of this sort necessary or desirable. She will find
sufficient relaxation amid the routine of active life and her daily
occupations, and in her labors of love and charity.
The society, of sisters, brothers, parents, grand-parents--of
companions, indeed, of every sort with whom she mingles, at home or at
school--will afford her, at times, every enjoyment, even of the passive
sort, which she really needs; or which, if she has the true spirit of
Christ, she will heartily desire. In her duties to these--nay, even in
her very duties to herself--in the kitchen, the garden or the field,
she will have ample opportunity of descanting on the beauties and
glories of the animal and vegetable world, and on the wonders of the
starry heavens. In pruning, and watering, and weeding the vines and
plants, she may drink in as much as she pleases of the living green, as
well as feast her eyes, anon, on the blue expanse; and in her walks of
charity and mercy, whether alone or in company with others, she may
also receive the nectar of heaven, as it glistens and invites from
Nature's own cup, in as rich draughts as if she were merely lounging,
and seeking for pleasure--nay, even in richer ones, by as much as
active exercise of body and mind, gives her the better mental and
physical appetite.
It is one of the strongest proofs that we have a benevolent Creator at
the head of the world in which we live, that he has made duty and
enjoyment perfectly compatible, so that in pursuing the pathway of the
former, we almost inevitably make sure of the latter; and it is also
equally remarkable, if not an equally strong proof of benevolence, that
in seeking enjoyment, as such, without seeking it in the path of duty,
we seldom find it--or if found, it is but half enjoyed.
There is nothing in this world--or hardly any thing, to say the
least--which should be done for the mere sake of doing it. We labor not
for the sake of laboring, alone; we eat not, and we drink not, for the
sake, merely, of eating and drinking--at least we should not, would we
obtain the whole benefit of eating and drinking; nor should we even
amuse ourselves for the sake alone of the amusement. Double ends are
often secured by single means; nay, almost always so. I speak now of
the woman, and not of the infant or the child.
Social visits among friends and neighbors, for the mere sake of the
passive enjoyment they afford in the earliest years of infancy, may do
exceedingly well as a preparation for the more active and more truly
Christian visits of maturer years and later life. They are useful in
elevating ourselves and others to a state where such visiting is not so
needful to our happiness.
As to many forms of visiting current among us--such as morning calls,
evening parties, and calls of any sort which answer none of the real
purposes of visiting--tending neither to make ourselves or any body
else wiser or better, but, on the contrary, to make society worse,
indirectly--I have never found any apology for them which seemed to me
sufficient to satisfy a rational, intelligent, immortal spirit. To come
together late in the evening, just to eat and drink together that which
ought not to be eaten and drunk at all--or if at all, certainly not at
such an hour; to hold conversation an hour or two under the influence
of some sort of excitement, physical or moral, got up for the occasion,
on topics which are of little comparative importance--of which the most
valuable part often is, the inquiry, How do you do? and the consequent
replies to it; to trifle the time away till ten, eleven or twelve
o'clock, and then go home through the cold, damp atmosphere, perhaps
thinly clad, to suffer that night for want of proper and sufficient
sleep, and the next day from indigestion, and a thousand other evils;
what can be more truly pitiable, not to say ridiculous! Nor is the
practice of putting on a new dress--or one which, if not new, we are
quite willing to exhibit--and of going to see our neighbors, and
staying just long enough to ask how they do, say a few stale or silly
things, and prove an interruption and a nuisance, and then going
elsewhere--a whit more justifiable, in beings made in the image of God,
and who are to be accountable at his eternal bar.
Let it not be said that I disapprove of visiting, entirely. One of the
grounds of condemnation at the final day, is represented in the
twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, as being--"Ye visited me not;" that
is, did not visit in the name and for the sake of the Judge, those whom
God has made it a duty no less than a privilege to visit. And can I set
myself, with impunity, against that which my Saviour has encouraged,
and yet pretend to be one of his followers? What would be more
presumptuous? I am not an enemy to visiting, if done with a view to
glorify God in the benefit of mankind. Let young women visit, indeed,
but lot it be done in a way which will be approved by the Saviour and
Judge. But there may be dissipation in the garb of visiting; and it is
still oftener nothing more than the garb of indolence.
It is not visiting, but visiting without a definite or important
purpose, to which I object. It is not visiting itself, but the abuse of
visiting. Celestial spirits, for aught we know, are much employed in
visiting--and shall not man be so? Are we to belong to their society
hereafter, and yet not be their _associates?_ Are we to associate with
them, and yet remain solitaries? Could such a thing be? Is not man,
here and hereafter--as I have already insisted--a social being? And if
so, shall not his social nature and social powers be early and
successfully developed and cultivated? Let our visits but promote the
purposes of benevolence, and nothing can, with propriety, be said
against them. I would wage no war on this point, except with
selfishness.
CHAPTER XXIV.
MANNERS.
Miss Sedgwick on good manners. Her complaint. Just views of good
manners. Good manners as the natural accompaniment of a good heart. The
Bible the best book on manners. Illustrations of the subject.
Miss Sedgwick, in her "Means and Ends," has treated the subject of
Manners in a happier way than any other writer with whom I am
acquainted. Perhaps her views are already familiar to most of my
readers; but lest they should not be so, and on account of their
excellency, I propose to give a brief abstract of some of them.
She complains, in the first place, that manners are too often
considered as certain forms to be taught, or certain modes of conduct
for which rules are to be made: and observes that some of the Greek
states maintained professors to teach manners; in connection with which
she immediately adds the following paragraph:
"Is this making manners a distinct branch of education consistent with
their nature? Are they not the sign of inward qualities--a fitting
expression of the social virtues? Are they not a mirror which often
does, and always should, reflect the soul? For instance, is not a
person of mild temper, gentle in manners? Has not another a bold and
independent disposition, a forward and fearless manner? It has been
well said, that real elegance of demeanor springs from the mind;
fashionable schools do but teach its imitation."
Here she quotes, with apparent approbation, the views of Mr. Locke.
This writer, in speaking of the moral education of a young person, has
the following paragraph:
"If his tender mind be filled with veneration for his parents and
teachers, which consists in love and esteem, and a fear to offend them,
and with respect and good will to all people, that respect will of
itself teach _those ways_ which he observes to be most acceptable."
Miss Sedgwick also makes the following judicious remarks:
"I pray you to bear in mind, that manners are but manifestations of
character. I must premise that by manners I do not mean the polished
manners of the most highly educated and refined of other countries, nor
the deferential subservience of their debased classes--so pleasing to
those who prefer the homage to the friendship of their fellow creatures.
"Manners, like every thing else in one's character and conduct, should
be based on religion. Honor all men, says the apostle. This is the
spring of good manners. It strikes at the very root of selfishness. It
is the principle by which we render to all ranks and ages their due. A
respect for your fellow beings, a reverence for them as God's creatures
and our brethren, will inspire that delicate regard to their rights and
feelings, of which good manners is the sign.
"If you have truth--not the truth of policy, but religious truth--your
manners will be sincere. They will have earnestness, simplicity and
frankness--the best qualities of manners. They will be free from
assumption, pretence, affectation, flattery and obsequiousness, which
are all incompatible with sincerity. If you have a goodly sincerity,
you will choose to appear no other nor better than you are--to dwell in
a true light."
I have often insisted that the Bible contains the only rules necessary
in the study of politeness--or in other words, that those who are the
real disciples of Christ, cannot fail to be truly polite. Nor have I
any reason for recalling this opinion; from which that of Miss Sedgwick
does not materially differ.
Not that the same forms will be observed by every follower of Christ,
in manifesting his politeness; all I insist on is, that every one will
be truly polite. Let me illustrate my views in a very plain manner.
Suppose a wandering female, clad in the meanest apparel, calls at a
house, to inquire the way to the next inn, having just found the road
to divide or fork in, a very doubtful and difficult manner. Suppose
there are no persons in the house, but half a dozen females. These, we
will also suppose, are persons of real piety and true benevolence. What
does true politeness require of them, but to give the stranger, in a
gentle and affectionate manner, the necessary information?
But if every one is ready to perform the office which true politeness
would dictate--and is consequently truly polite--there will probably be
as many ways of manifesting these feelings, as there are individuals
present in the company.
One, for example, will give the stranger the best directions she can
without leaving the room; but will be in all respects exceedingly
particular. Another will go to the door, and there give the same
directions. A third will go with her into the street, and there
instruct her. A fourth will go with her to the first or second fork of
the road, and there give further directions. A fifth will send a boy
with her. A sixth will sketch the road plainly, though coarsely, with a
pencil; and mark, in a proper manner, the course she ought to pursue.
Each one will instruct her in an intelligent manner, so that there can
hardly remain the possibility of a mistake; but we see that there will
be a considerable difference in the form.
It may be said in reply to this view of politeness, that there are
genuine disciples of Christ, who, from ignorance of what they ought to
do, or from bad habits not yet subdued, will not in such a case as I
have described, render any assistance at all; and that they cannot, of
course, be truly polite. To which I have only to reply, that such a
thing can hardly happen; and if it should, the spirit of Christianity
would not lead to it--but it would be the result, rather, of a want of
that spirit.
In short, let the young woman who would be truly polite, take her
lessons, not in the school of a hollow, heartless world, but in the
school of Jesus Christ. I know this counsel may be despised by the gay
and fashionable; but it will be much easier to despise it than to prove
it to be incorrect.
"Always think of the good of the whole, rather than of your own
individual convenience," says Mrs. Farrar, in her Young Ladies' Friend:
a most excellent rule, and one to which I solicit your earnest
attention. She who is thoroughly imbued with the gospel spirit, will
not fail to do so. It was what our Saviour did continually; and I have
no doubt that his was the purest specimen of good manners, or genuine
politeness, the world has ever witnessed--the politeness of Abraham
himself not excepted.
CHAPTER XXV.
HEALTH AND BEAUTY.
Dr. Bell's new work on Health and Beauty. Its value. Adam and Eve
probably very beautiful. Primitive beauty of our race to be yet
restored. Sin the cause of present ugliness. Never too late to reform.
Opinion of Dr. Rush. An important principle. The doctrine of human
perfectibility disavowed. Various causes of ugliness. Obedience to law,
natural and moral, the true source of beauty. Indecency and immorality
of neglecting cleanliness.
Dr. Bell, of Philadelphia, whose reputation as a medical man and an
author is deservedly high, has written a volume, as the reader may
already know, entitled, "Health and Beauty"--in which he endeavors to
show that "a pleasing contour, symmetry of form, and a graceful
carriage of the body," may be acquired, and "the common deformities of
the spine and chest be prevented," by a due obedience to the "laws of
growth and exercise." These laws he has endeavored--and with
considerable success--to present in a popular and intelligible manner.
Nor was the task unworthy the efforts and pen of the gifted individual
by whom it was executed. Young women, of course, are inclined to set a
high value on beauty of form and feature, as well as to dread, more
than most other persons, what they regard as deformity. Surely they
ought to be glad of a work like that I have described.
I have no wish to disparage beauty; it is almost a virtue. There can
hardly be a doubt that Adam and Eve were exceedingly beautiful; nor
that so far as the world can be restored to its primitive state--which
we hope may be the case in its future glorious ages--the pristine
beauty of our race will be restored. It is sin, in the largest sense of
the term, which has distorted the human "face divine," disrobed it of
half its charms; and deprived the whole frame of its symmetry.
Does any one ask, of what possible service it can be to know these
facts, when it is too late to make use of them? The truth is, it can
never be too late. There is no person so old that she cannot improve
her appearance, more or less, if she will but take the appropriate
steps. I do not, of course, mean to say, that at twenty or thirty years
of age a person can greatly alter the contour of the face, or the
symmetry of the frame; though I believe some thing can be done, even in
these respects. It was the saying of Dr. Rush, that husbands and wives
who live happily together, always come to resemble one another more and
more, in their very features; and he accounted for it on the principle
of an increased resemblance in their feelings, tastes or dispositions.
And there are probably few who have not observed how much bad passions
and bad habits distort the features of every body, at every age. Then
why should not Dr. Rush be right; and why should not good feelings and
good affections change the countenance, in a greater or less degree, as
well as bad ones? And what reason, then, can be given why every young
woman--certainly those who are far down in the column of
_teens_--cannot change her countenance for the better, if she will take
the necessary pains for it?
That she can do but little, is no reason why that little should not be
done. The very consideration that she can do but little, enhances the
importance of doing what she can. Let her remember this. Would that the
principle were universally remembered and applied! Would that it were
generally believed--and the belief acted upon--that the latter day
glory of the world is to be brought about in no other way than by
having every individual of every generation, through a long series of
generations, do all in his power, aided by wisdom and strength from on
high, to hasten it.
Do not suppose that I entertain the belief, as foolish as it is absorb,
that in any future glorious period of the world's history, mankind will
be perfectly beautiful, or perfectly conformed to one standard of
beauty. I entertain no belief in human perfectibility. I believe--and I
wish to state this belief once for all, that I may not be
misunderstood--that we are destined, if we are wise, to approach
perfection forever, without the possibility of ever attaining to
it;--to any perfection, I mean, which is absolute and unqualified.
Nor do I believe that all mankind will ever become perfectly beautiful,
according to any particular standard of beauty. This were neither
useful nor desirable. There will probably be as great a variety of
features, and possibly, too, of size and symmetry, in the day of
millennial glory, as there is now.
What I believe, is this. That in falling, with our first parents, we
fall physically as well as morally; and that our physical departure
from truth is almost as wide as our moral. I suppose all the ugliness
of the young--not, of course, all their variety of feature or
complexion, but all which constitutes real ugliness of
appearance--comes directly or indirectly from the transgression of
God's laws, natural or moral; and can only be restored by obedience to
those laws by the transgression of which it came.
It is not tight dressing alone which spoils the shape; but improper
exercise, neglect of exercise, over exercise--and a thousand other
things also. Nor is it the application of _rouge_ alone, which spoils
the beauty. There are a thousand physical transgressions that dim the
lustre of the eye, or sink it too deep in the socket, or flatten it, or
paint a circle round it. So of the face in general. There are a
thousand forms of transgression that take away the carnation of the lip
and cheek, and leave unnatural hues, not to say pimples and furrows, in
its stead.
I might be much more particular. I might show how every physical
transgression--every breach of that part of the natural law which
imposes on us the duty of proper attention to cleanliness, exercise,
dress, air, temperature, eating, drinking, sleeping, &c.--mars, in a
greater or less degree, our beauty. Such a disclosure might be
startling; but it ought to be made. Dr. Bell, in the volume mentioned,
has led the way; and his work entitles him to a high place among the
benefactors of our race. But he has only begun the work; the important
honor of completing it, remains to him, or to some of his countrymen.
But enough on this subject, for the present, if I have convinced the
reader whence her help, in this respect, is to come;--if I have
convinced her that, under God, she is to restore her beauty only by
becoming a true Christian; by having her whole being--body, intellect
and affections--brought into subjection to divine law, especially by a
prompt, and minute, and thorough obedience to all the laws of health
and life, as far as she understands them; and by diligent effort to
understand them better and better, as long as she lives; and, lastly,
by the smiles of Almighty God upon her labors and efforts.
CHAPTER XXVI.
NEATNESS AND CLEANLINESS.
Reasons for discussing these topics. Every person should undergo a
thorough ablution once a day. Quotation from Mrs. Farrar. Two important
objects gained by cold bathing. Its value as an exercise. Various forms
of bathing. Philosophy of this subject. Vast amount of dirt
accumulating on the surface. Statement of Mr. Buckingham Bathing
necessary in all employments. Offices of the skin, and evil
consequences of keeping it in an uncleanly condition.
After saying so much of the general importance of obeying the laws of
life and health, it seems, at first view, almost unnecessary to go
farther into particulars than I have already done And yet I feel
somewhat inclined to do so for two reasons. First, because I find
several considerable errors in the advice given to young women in some
of our young women's books, in matters pertaining to their physical
improvement, which I should rejoice to be able to correct. Secondly,
because, that in a work from me, information of this kind will probably
be expected.
And yet it seems quite common-place to advise a young woman on the
subject of cleanliness in general; and still more so, to speak to her
on the subject of personal neatness. A young woman wanting in neatness!
At the first view of the case, such a thing seems almost impossible.
Would that it were so! Would that our daughters and sisters--the
daughters and sisters of America, especially--were so far apprized of
this indispensable requisite, as to need no monitor on the subject!
But, unhappily, it is not so. Very far from it, on the contrary.
No person in tolerable health, male or female, seems to me to be
entitled to be considered as neat--truly so--who does not wash the
surface of the whole body in water, daily. But are there not multitudes
who pass for models of neatness and cleanliness, who do not perform
this work for themselves half a dozen times--nay, once--a year?
That I may not be regarded as wholly ultra on this subject, because
professedly a strong friend and advocate of physical education and
physical improvement, I beg leave to subjoin the following paragraphs
from Mrs. Farrar's Young Ladies' Friend:
"Once, at least, in twenty-four hours, the whole surface of the body
should be washed in soap and water, and receive the friction of a
coarse towel, or flesh brush, or crash mitten. This may be done by warm
or cold bathing; by a plunging or shower bath; by means of a common
wash tub; and even without further preparation than an ordinary
wash-bowl and sponge.
"By washing a small part of the person at a time, rubbing it well, and
then covering what is done, the whole may be washed in cold water, even
in winter time; and a glow may be produced after it, in a young and
healthy person.
"It is common for persons who are in the habit of sponging over with
cold water every morning, or of taking the shower or plunging bath, to
omit it when they have a slight cold, or sore throat, or a touch of
rheumatism; whereas, if it were properly done so as to produce a glow
all over the skin, their habitual ablutions would be the best remedy
for the beginnings of evil. * * * If not sure, in such a case, of
producing a glow after the use of the cold water, it will be better to
use the warm, in order to make the skin do its office freely. But to
cease your customary bathing at such times, is to increase all your
difficulties.
"Many think it impossible to make this thorough washing when the
weather is very cold, and that they must do it in rooms never warmed by
a fire; but in healthy and vigorous persons, the glow after washing
would be so great, as to more than compensate for the momentary chill."
By washing the body in cold water every day, and following it by
friction, according to the recommendation of Mrs. F., you gain, at
once, two important objects. You secure to yourself the benefits of
cleanliness, and of a vast amount of exercise, and consequent vigor. I
say a _vast_ amount; but this depends much on yourself. You may make a
great deal of it, or only a little. I know of one teacher who says his
cold bath and friction are worth two hours of ordinary exercise to him
every day. But two hours of ordinary exercise a day, is much more than
the whole which is taken by some of our young women.
I have spoken of the vigor derived from cold bathing. This is gained in
two ways. First, _directly_, by the action of the muscles or moving
powers, which I have partially described in the chapter on Exercise.
Secondly, _indirectly_, through the medium of sympathy. I know of no
one thing which costs so little time and effort--(for the work may be
done after it has become natural and habitual, in twelve or fifteen
minutes)--which secures, at the same time, such an amount of exercise
and bodily vigor, as daily cold bathing.
The particular forms of bathing are numerous. Among these, are the
simple washing with the hand, spoken of by Mrs. Farrar; sponging;
immersion in a tub or stream; and the shower bath. All these, except,
of course, washing in a stream, may be done with cold, tepid, warm or
hot water; and may be continued for a greater or less time--although,
in general, the cold bath should be a quick operation.
Let me now present the reader with a physiological explanation of the
use and necessity of frequent ablution and bathing; derived, in
substance, from a little tract already before the public. [Footnote:
See "Thoughts on Bathing." page 8.] I use the language of the tract,
because I can use none which is better for my present purpose.
The dust accumulates on the surface of our bodies much more readily,
and adheres much more firmly, and in much larger quantities, than is
usually supposed, and than by many would be credited. Mr. Buckingham,
the Oriental traveller, asserts that from two to three pounds of it are
sometimes removed from the whole surface of a person who has for some
time neglected bathing and washing, in a tropical climate; and this,
under some circumstances, may possibly have been the case. For not only
does the moisture of the skin favor its accumulation, but so also does
the oily substance continually poured out by the small bottle-shaped
glands--sebaceous glands, as they are called--which are found in the
skin in great numbers, with their mouths opening on its surface.
Nothing, indeed, can be more obvious to an enlightened and reflecting
mind, than the indispensable necessity of frequent ablutions of the
body in some form or other. It will, indeed, be said--it is often
said--that much depends, in this respect, upon the nature of our
occupation. The farmer, the smith, the manufacturer--the individual, in
one word, whose employment is most uncleanly--will be thought to need
frequent attentions of this kind, while those whose employments are
quiet and sedentary, will need them less frequently.
But it should not be forgotten, that although frequent bathing and
cleansing are indispensable to those whose employments expose them to a
great deal of dust, yet they are scarcely less necessary to the
sedentary; and for the following reason:--The active nature of the
employments of the former, and their exposure to the open air, break up
the coating of oil and dirt with which they are enveloped, and render
it more pervious to the matter of perspiration, than the thinner, but
not less tenacious varnish which covers the surface of the sedentary.
On the whole, therefore, I regard bathing and thorough cleansing of the
skin, as of nearly equal importance in all the varied circumstances of
age, sex, climate and occupation.
We must not omit to observe, that whatever changes take place in the
lungs, by the action of the air upon the blood in the small vessels of
those organs, to purify and renovate it, take place all over the
surface of the body; that in this respect, therefore, the skin may be
regarded as a sort of appendage to the lungs; and that if the skin he
varnished over with a mixture of oil and dust, so that it cannot
perform its office, an unreasonable burden will be thrown upon the
lungs, which will thereby be weakened, and predisposed to disease. I
have not a doubt, that a universal neglect of cleanliness not only
favors, in this way, the production of lung diseases--especially of
those colds which are so frequent in our climate, and which often pave
the way for other and still more dangerous diseases--but also that it
tends to aggravate such diseases of the lungs as may already exist, or
to whose existence there may be in us, either by inheritance or
otherwise--a predisposition.
This temporary suspension of the offices of the skin is, however,
peculiarly dangerous to those who are of light complexion, slender
form, with a long neck, and narrow shoulders projecting almost like
wings--indicating a chest whose internal organs, as well as external
dimensions, are comparatively small and feeble, and therefore poorly
prepared to do that work which belongs to other parts or organs. Let
all persons beware of compelling the lungs _to work for the skin_; but
above all, those who have the particular structure to which I have
alluded.
It is hardly necessary that I should advert, here, to the repugnance
felt by our sex, to those young women whose external appearance
bespeaks a want of attention to this subject. But it is necessary that
I should allude to the indecency of that neglect--by no means
uncommon--which renders the odor of the perspiration very disagreeable,
or increases its disagreeableness by means of accumulations of grease
and dirt on the skin.
They should also be reminded that there is, somehow or other, (I know
not how, exactly,) a very general connection between external and
internal purity. It is exceedingly uncommon--I had almost said, quite
so--to find an individual who pays a daily close attention to neatness
and cleanliness of person and dress, who does not, at the same time,
possess a reputation which is not only above reproach, but also quite
above suspicion.
CHAPTER XXVII.
DRESS AND ORNAMENT.
Legitimate purposes of dress--as a covering, a regulator of
temperature, and a defence. Use of ornaments. Further thoughts on
dress. How clothing keeps us warm. Errors in regard to the material,
quality, and form of our dress. Tight lacing--its numerous evils.
Improvement of the lungs by education. Objections to the use of
personal ornaments.
When we remember that the threefold object of dress is to cover, warm
and defend us, and that the kind and quantity of dress which best does
this, is most conducive to our own and the public good, as well as to
the glory of God, we are led, very naturally, to the following
reflections:
1. We have no right to use that kind of dress which does not answer
well the purpose of a COVERING, ad long as we can lawfully obtain that
which would do it better. All fashions, moreover, which tend to remind
the beholder that our dress is _designed as a covering_, are nearly as
improper as those which do not effectually cover us.
And here let me say, with sufficient plainness, that there are such
fashions in existence; and that they ought to be shunned like the
plague. Does not the world in which we live, contain sources enough of
temptation, and avenues enough to vice, seduction and misery, without
increasing their number by our dress? [Footnote: I cannot refrain from
saying, in this place, that since I wrote the above paragraph, I have
received an excellent letter from a worthy minister of the gospel, on
the subject of female dress which, besides greatly confirming the views
I have expressed in this chapter, suggests the importance of having a
standard dress devised--to be formed on Christian principles, and made
fashionable by Christian example. If such a measure is desirable, it is
yours, young women, to put it in operation.]
I need to specify but one fashion in the list of those to which I
refer. It is the fashion of exposing the neck and a part of the chest.
I could tell young women, that it would be wisdom to remove this
dangerous custom, were health entirely out of the question. A word to
the wise--to adopt the language of Solomon--is sufficient. May it prove
so, in the present instance. Let not the young of the other sex,
miseducated as they now are, and the slaves of improper imaginations
and feelings, be longer trifled with in this matter.
2. We have no right to use any articles of clothing-when we have it in
our power, by lawful means, to prevent it--whose tendency is directly
contrary to what has been laid down as the second great object of
dress, that of ASSISTING TO KEEP OUR BODIES AT A PROPER TEMPERATURE.
It would be idle to pretend that clothing, in itself considered, is a
source of warmth to our bodies. It is only so by the relation it bears
to our bodies; or, in other words, by the circumstances in which it is
placed. Our own bodies--their internal, living machinery, rather--are
the principal sources of our heat. Clothing is useful in keeping us
warm, only by retaining, for some time, a portion of the heat of our
bodies, which would otherwise escape so rapidly into the ambient cooler
air, as to leave us with a sensation of chilliness. It should,
therefore, be adapted to the season. That clothing which conducts the
heat from the body in the slowest manner, or, in other words, impedes
most its progress, is best adapted to severe cold weather; provided,
however, it does not keep the heated air in contact with the body so
long as to render it impure. And, on the contrary, that clothing which
most readily allows the heat to escape from our bodies, is, in hot
weather, the best adapted to our health and happiness.
I have said that the internal machinery of out bodies is the great
source of our heat. Foremost, perhaps, in this work, are the lungs, the
stomach, the brain and nervous system, and the circulatory system,
including the heart, arteries, veins and absorbents. Our moving
powers--the muscles and tendons--have, indeed, much to do with
generating our heat; but it is principally by the assistance which they
render to the digestive, the nutritive, the respiratory, the
circulatory, and the thinking machinery. The fat of our bodies has also
something to do in promoting our warmth; but it is only on the same
principle as that by which it is done by our clothing; that is to say,
it prevents the heat from being conducted off too rapidly.
All these internal organs--and, in fact, all the living machinery of
our bodies--have the power to generate heat and diffuse it over the
system, in proportion to the freedom and energy of their action; or, to
express the same idea in fewer words, in proportion to their health.
But this is not all. They have not only the power of generating heat in
proportion to their healthiness, but also of resisting cold. Who does
not know that the living system, at ninety-eight degrees of Fahrenheit,
will resist a temperature nearly one hundred and fifty degrees lower
than this, [Footnote: During the present winter, the mercury in this
vicinity has ranged, in one or two instances, as low as 14 or 16
degrees below zero; which is 112 or 114 degrees below the heat of the
blood. In some parts of New England it has been 20 or 30 degrees
below.] and yet for some time not freeze? Perhaps this is done,
however, in the same way in which a more moderate amount of heat is
generated. Perhaps the increased muscular and nervous energy, and the
increased activity of the other organs, enable them to generate heat as
fast, as the increased cold around carries it off.
But the conclusion. I would at present enforce from these physiological
premises, is the following:--That whenever our dress, by means of its
material, form or quantity, has a tendency to weaken our internal
organs, or any one of them, and thus to prevent the free and energetic
performance of their several functions, it is injurious, and its use is
wrong, not to say sinful.
This is sometimes done by clothing which irritates and excites the
surface of the body too much. Coarse flannel is more irritating than
any other material in ordinary use, and should therefore never be used
when a sufficient amount of bodily heat can be maintained without it;
as its use weakens, in the end, the perspiratory, and calorific, and
depurating powers of the skin--for the skin has all these powers--and
even, in some cases, brings on eruptive and other diseases. Fine
flannel is more irritating than cotton; and the latter, more so than
linen. Still, there are multitudes who cannot get along without
flannel, at some seasons, either coarser or finer.
The evil of which I have spoken is, however, much oftener induced by
error in regard to the quantity of dress, than its quality. As to
quantity, we need no more than is just necessary, along with healthy
and vigorous exercise, to keep us from being sensibly cold or chilly.
Any amount beyond this, be its nature what it may, is debilitating, and
consequently more or less injurious.
But the form of our dress often does injury; as well as its material
and quantity. With some classes of our community, this is a greater
evil than either of the former; though with others, it is not.
All forms of dress which impede any kind of motion, especially those
which impede circulatory motion, are greatly injurious. It is, I
suppose, pretty well known, that all parts of the skin are full of
minute blood vessels, chiefly veins; in addition to which, there are
also a great number of veins still larger, immediately under the skin,
and connected with it, as may be observed by looking at the hands or
limbs of very aged or very lean persons. Now the tendency or course of
the blood in all the veins, is towards the heart; and this course is
slower or more rapid, according as the skin is more or less active,
healthy and free. A rapid course of the blood in these veins, is
desirable, because it has become, in the progress of its circulation,
greatly impure, and in the same proportion unfit to minister to the
purposes of health--and needs to go on to the heart, and through that
to the lungs, to be relieved of its load of impurities.
Is it not plain, then, that all compression of the skin by cravats,
wristbands, waistbands, belts, garters, or any other form of ligatures,
must be wrong! Must it not impede the motion of the venous blood in its
return to the heart? Must not even light boots, garters, stockings,
&c., do this? Is it not a task sufficiently difficult for the blood to
climb from the feet to the heart, directly against the power of
gravity, without being impeded, is its course, by compression of any
sort--and above all, by ligatures.
But if these ordinary compressions of the surface of our bodies are so
injurious, what are we to say of the practice of many females, and of
most young women--at least in fashionable life--of compressing the
chest?
For in compressing this part of the frame, though we do not impede the
action of _so much_ blood in its return to the heart as might be
supposed, we do a great deal more injury in many other respects than is
usually known. I must advert to the various items of this injury.
First--compressing the chest, by dress or otherwise, prevents free
motion of the trunk of the body. We can, indeed, bend the body a
little, notwithstanding the compression; but not so freely, and not
therefore so healthfully.
Secondly--compression of the chest prevents the lungs and heart--the
principal organs wholly contained in its cavity--from expanding, and
doing their work in a proper manner. If there were no compression by
ligatures or otherwise, of any other part of the system, and if the
impure blood came back to the lungs for renovation as fast as it ought,
still it would not be properly depurated or renovated, unless the lungs
acted in a full, healthy and rigorous manner. But this they cannot do,
unless the chest is left free from external compression. Their internal
expansion and enlargement is limited by the external, much in the same
way as the space in a bellows is limited or extended according as the
bellows itself is expanded or compressed.
If the muscles concerned in moving the chest---near a hundred in
number--do not properly act; if the breast-bone, when we inhale air, is
not thrown forward, and the ribs thrown outward and upward so as to
increase, very greatly, the size of the internal cavity; then the
venous blood which is brought into the lungs to be purified and
cleansed, cannot--I repeat it--be purified and cleansed as it ought to
be; and the whole system must suffer the consequences, in being fed and
nourished on impure, and I might say poisonous blood.
This is the case when the lungs are compressed during a single breath:
how great, then, is the evil, when the compression continues an
hour--during which period we probably breathe ten or twelve hundred
times! How much greater still, when it is continued through the waking
hours of a day, say fifteen or sixteen--in which period we breathe
nearly twenty thousand times--and a young woman of twelve to fifteen
years of age, probably more! But think of the evil as extended to a
year, or three hundred and sixty-five days! or to a whole life of
thirty, fifty or seventy years!
How much poisoned blood must go through the living system in sixty or
seventy years, should the injured system last so long! And how many bad
feelings, and how much severe pain and suffering, and chronic and acute
disease, must almost inevitably be undergone!
Thirdly--this poisoning of the blood, however, is not all. The chest,
so constantly compressed, even if the compression is not begun in early
infancy, shrinks to a much smaller size than is natural, and in a few
years becomes incapable of holding more than half or two thirds as much
air as before; so that if the compression is removed, the injury cannot
be wholly restored--though if removed any time before thirty-five years
of age, _something_ may be done towards restoration. But not only is
the cavity diminished permanently in size; the bones and tendons are
bent out-of their place, and made to compress either the lungs
themselves, or the other contiguous organs, as the heart, the liver and
the stomach, and to disturb the proper performance of their respective
offices or functions.
Fourthly-tight lacing, as I have already said, compresses the heart as
well as the lungs, and impedes the motion of this important organ. The
suffering and disease which are thus entailed on transgression, if not
quite so great in amount as that which is induced by the abuse of the
lungs, is yet very great--and added to the former, greatly diminishes
the sum total of human happiness, and increases, in the same
proportion, our miseries and our woes.
Fifthly--the stomach is also a sufferer--and the liver; and, indeed,
all the other organs. There is suffering, not only from being in actual
contact with each other, but also from sympathy and fellow feeling. I
have adverted to that law, by which, if one member or organ of the
human system suffer, all the others suffer with it. This is very
remarkably the case with the lungs, when they suffer. Other organs
suffer with them from mere sympathy; and that to a very great extent.
This is especially true of the cerebral and nervous system; and of that
portion of the _general_ system which gives to woman her peculiar
prerogative, as well as her distinctive character.
Let no young woman forget, moreover, that she lives, not for herself
alone, but for others; and that if she injures health and life by
improper dress, she does it not for herself alone, but for all those
who shelter their abuses under her example, as well as for all those
who may hereafter be more immediately influenced by her present
conduct. Let her neither forget her responsibility nor her
accountability. Would to God that she could see this matter as it truly
is, and as she will be likely to see it in years to come!
Let it be remembered, moreover, that as we can diminish the size of the
chest by compressing it, so we can enlarge it, gradually--especially in
early life--by extra effort; or by general exercise; but especially
such general exercise as I have mentioned in a former chapter--I mean,
moderate labor in the garden or in the field, and in house-keeping. Nor
is spinning on a high wheel--which requires not only walking to and
fro, but also considerable motion of the arms and chest--a very bad
exercise. A great deal may also be done by reading aloud in a proper
manner, and by conversation; and especially by singing.
I believe that by a proper education of the lungs--instead of the
modern custom of _un_educating them--it would be possible, in the
course of a few successive ages, greatly to enlarge the cavity
containing them. And if this can be done, it will be a means of
promoting, in the same degree, the tone and vigor, not only of the
lungs themselves, but also of the whole physical frame; and the
aggregate gain to our race would be immense. Let us think of the
amazing difference between a race which has been deteriorating in body
and mind, from generation to generation, and at the same time suffering
from disease in a thousand forms, and one which is not only free from
primitive disease, but gradually improving, both bodily and mentally,
and in a fair way to go on improving for centuries--perhaps thousands
of years--to come!
3. We have no right to use that dress as a DEFENCE which does not
answer this purpose, so long as we can get that which does; provided it
answers neither of the other two purposes already mentioned.
Now, are there not a great number of articles of clothing worn, whose
use cannot be justified on these principles? Does not the greater part
of human time and labor which is expended on dress, both by the maker
and the wearer, go to answer other purposes than these? Is it not
expended for mere ornament? And is such an expenditure right?
My own conviction is, that we are bound, as Christians--and as such, I
must consider my readers in this favored country--to use that dress,
and that alone, which answers the great purposes of dress; and that
were the subject viewed in its true and just light, all beyond this
should be regarded as sinful. What I suppose these great purposes of
dress are, has already been mentioned.
In short, I suppose that our duty is, to dress in such a way, if our
circumstances permit it, as will be best for the purposes of merely
clothing, tempering and defending our bodies. That material, that
quantity, and those forms of dress, which we suppose best accomplish
this, should be adopted as fast as they are known.
Such a view will, of course, be opposed by the devotees of fashion; but
not, I think, by many of those who know they cannot serve two
masters--God and mammon, or God and the fashions--and that it is their
duty to devote themselves, unreservedly, to the worship and service of
the former.
I shall also be opposed by another class--the devotees of utility, or a
species of what I call utilitarianism. They will say that _I_ am a
utilitarian, of the rankest sort; that I would destroy all just taste,
all industry, all division of labor, all commerce, and all wealth.
But is it so? Is that proved to be a just taste, to which the views
here presented seem to be opposed? Where is the proof, and by whom has
it been adduced? I am no advocate for a utilitarianism which excludes
just taste: but _I believe our tastes to be depraved by the fall, no
less than our affections;_ that they are not, as some suppose, _free
from sin_--though less sinful, perhaps, than our moral tastes and
preferences. I believe that a taste which is not conformed to the
nature of things and to the law of God, is a perverted taste; and that
the modern taste in regard to dress and ornament, is, to a great
extent, of this description.
And does there remain no room for industry when personal ornaments are
excluded? As well might it be said that the exclusion of all drinks but
water, would strike a death-blow at industry. Is there nothing left for
people to do, because you take away ornament?
Perhaps, indeed, if _all_ personal ornament were to be taken away
suddenly, it might give a temporary check to industry, and seem to
conflict with the principal of a division of labor. But this cannot
happen, except it were by miraculous agency. The utmost that can be
rationally expected at present by the most sanguine, would be, that
professing Christians should exclude it; nor could they, as a body, be
expected to do it at once. One here, and another there, would renounce,
as wrong, what he had been accustomed to think right; and this would
give society time to adjust itself, and preserve its balance; as it has
done in the case of every great and important change of public opinion.
But we are gravely told by several writers on this subject, that as a
nation's wealth is derived from a division of labor, it follows, that
to deny ourselves all ornament, would be a great injury to the
community.
What a strange inference! Is there nothing for people to do, in this
world, I again ask, but to make ornaments? Or can it be that they form
so important a division of human labor, that to dispense with them in
the only way in which it is possible, humanly speaking, to do so--that
is, by enlightening public opinion, and appealing to the
conscientious--is to take away the wealth of the nation?
I deny, most resolutely, that mere artificial ornaments make any
considerable part of a nation's real wealth. That which tends to make
us healthier in all the functions of our bodies--which developes and
improves all the faculties of our minds--and which developes and
cultivates, to the highest possible extent, all the good affections of
the soul-is alone worthy of the name of wealth.
I do not deny, that he who makes two stalks of grain grow where only
one grew before, is a public benefactor. I do not deny that, for
certain purposes in the arts--in architecture, especially--he who
polishes a gem, or a block of marble, may also be a public benefactor.
This is a very different thing from preparing and applying ornaments to
our persons; and may be, to some extent, useful. But I am still
assured, that those who make a person healthier than before, or improve
his intellect, or are a means of awakening in him a love to God and
man, and of promoting its growth where it is already awakened, are
benefactors to the world in a degree infinitely higher, and add to its
_true_ riches almost infinitely more.
It is health, knowledge and excellence--we again say--which exalt a
nation; and these are its true wealth. Fifteen millions of free men,
all as healthy as the most perfect specimen which could now be found
among us; all as wise as the wisest man in the world; and all as
virtuous and excellent as Aristides, or Howard, or Benezet, or John,
the beloved apostle, himself--what a national treasure they would be!
what a revenue of true wealth they would afford!
Now, if fifteen millions of such people would be a source of national
wealth before unheard of, would not every individual of this whole
number be a source of wealth? And would not every element which should
go to make up the sum total of the excellences of each individual, be a
part of this mighty treasure?
If the richer part of the community have money to spare, why should
they not spend it in increasing the health, the knowledge, and the
morality of the needy around them--by giving employment to those who
are capable of promoting these blessings, and who want employment?
It will be said, I know, that the great multitude of persons around us
are not fit for more elevated employments. No; nor will they ever be,
in any considerable numbers, until they come to be employed in this way
much more frequently than they now are. Let there be an urgent demand
in the market for a commodity, and it usually soon comes to be
abundant. Let there be a demand for laborers in the mental and moral
field--in this more elevated garden of the Lord--and they will, ere
long, be furnished; and the more persons there are employed in this
way, and who consequently come into the habit of fitting themselves to
be thus employed, the richer will be the national treasury.
That many young women, who read this chapter, will wholly lay aside
their ornaments, and fit themselves, as fast as possible, for the noble
purpose of ornamenting those around them, by promoting their physical,
intellectual and moral well being, can hardly be expected. But I do
hope that I shall lead a few to expend less of time and money in
dressing and ornamenting their persons than heretofore, and more in
dressing and ornamenting the immortal mind, as well as more in
promoting health of body.
I cannot but hope to live to see the day, when every person who
professes the name of Jesus Christ, and not a few who make no
professions at all, will entertain similar views in regard to the
purposes of dress and their own duty in relation to it, to those which
I have endeavored to inculcate. Such a day must surely come, sooner or
later; and I hope that those who believe this, will make it their great
rule to _expend as little on themselves as possible_, and yet answer
the true intentions of the Creator respecting themselves.
There is a very wide difference between spending as _much_ as we can on
our persons--in the gratification, I mean, of the wants of our depraved
tastes, under the specious plea that it encourages commerce and
industry--and spending as _little_ as we can on ourselves, and as much
as possible in promoting the health, the learning, and the piety of
ourselves and those around us. The former has been tried for
centuries--with what result, let the state of society and our misnamed
refinement bear witness. Let the latter be tried but half as long, and
the world will be surprised at the results.
Foremost in this work of reform, should be our millions of young women.
They should be so for two reasons. First, because their influence and
responsibilities to coming generations are great, and, secondly,
because they are at present greatly involved in the practical error of
loving external ornaments too well, and of valuing too little the
ornaments of a healthy body, a sound mind, and a good heart.
I am often pained to hear the reproach cast upon females, and
especially upon the younger of the sex, that they are fond of the
"far-fetched" and "dear-bought," even when they are the less valuable.
It should not be so. They should be above the suspicion of such a
weakness.
What else can be expected, however, when those who should be the
guardians of the public taste--and who should, as Christian citizens,
strive with all their might to elevate it--engage in pandering to the
follies, not to say the depravities, of the age? Let young women rise
above themselves, and escape the snares thus laid for them by those who
ought to be their guides to the paths of wisdom, and virtue, and
happiness.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
DOSING AND DRUGGING.
Tendency of young women to dosing and drugging. "Nervousness." Qualms
of the stomach. Eating between our meals--its mischiefs. Evils of
direct dosing. What organs are injured. Confectionery. The danger from
quacks and quackery.
Fallen as human nature--our physical nature with the rest--now is,
there are seasons in the lives of almost all of us, when we are either
ill, or fear we shall be so. And young women, as well as others, have
their seasons of debility, and their fears, and even their sick days.
They have their colds, their coughs, their sick headaches, their
indigestions, and their consumptions. Above all--and more frequently by
far than almost any thing else--they have those undefinable and
indescribable feelings of ennui, which, for want of a better name, are
called, in their various forms, "nervousness."
When the unpleasant sensations to which I have just alluded, are
referred to the region of the stomach, and only produce a few qualms,
young women are not, in general, so apt to take medicine, as to eat
something to keep down their bad feelings--as a bit of seed-cake, a
little fruit, some cloves or cinnamon, or a piece of sugar.
This, though better than to take medicine, is yet a very bad practice;
for although momentary relief is secured in this way, it never fails to
increase the unpleasant sensations in the end. I ought to say
somewhere--and I know of no better place than this--that the habit of
eating between our regular meals, even the smallest thing whatever; is
of very mischievous tendency; and this for several reasons. First--the
stomach needs its seasons of entire rest; but those persons who eat
between their meals seldom give any rest to their stomachs, except
during the night. Secondly--eating things in this way injures the
general appetite. Thirdly--the habit is apt to increase in strength,
and is difficult to break. Fourthly--it does not afford relief, except
for a very short time. On the contrary, as I have already intimated, it
increases the trouble in the end.
This eating of such simple things, I have said, is quite bad enough;
but there are errors which are worse. Such is the habit of taking an
extra cup of tea or coffee--extra, either as respects the number of
cups or the strength. Now tea and coffee-and sometimes either of
them--are very apt to afford, like eating a little food, a temporary
relief. Indeed, the sufferer often gains so long a respite from her
sufferings, that the narcotic beverage which she takes is supposed to
be the very medicine needed, and the very one adapted to her case. The
like erroneous conclusion is often made after using, with the same
apparent good effect, certain hot herb teas. Yet, I repeat it, such
medicinal mixtures usually--perhaps I should say always--aggravate the
complaint in the end, by deranging still more the powers and functions
of the stomach, and debilitating still more the cerebral and nervous
system.
Different and various are the external applications made to the head,
in these circumstances; but all, usually, with the same success; they
only produce a little temporary relief. The same may be said of the use
of smelling bottles--containing, as I believe they usually do, ammonia
or hartshorn, cologne water, camphor, &c. The manner in which these
operate to produce mischief, is, however, very different from that of
the former. They irritate the nasal membrane, and dry it, if they do
not slowly destroy its sensibility. They also, in some way, affect
seriously the tender brain. In any event, they ought seldom to be used
by the sick or the well. Nor is this all. They are _inhaled_--to
irritate and injure the lining membrane of the lungs.
Trifling as it may seem to many, I never find that a young woman keeps
a cologne bottle in her dressing room, or a smelling bottle about
her--or perfumes her clothes--or is in the habit of eating, every now
and then, a little coriander, or fennel, or cloves, or
cinnamon--without trembling for her safety. Persisting long in this
habit, she will as inevitably injure her brain and nervous system, her
lungs or her stomach--ay, and her teeth too--as she continues the
habit. I never knew a young woman who had used any of these things,
year after year, for a long series of years, whose system was not
already suffering therefrom; and if I were fond of giving or receiving
challenges, I should not hesitate to challenge the whole world to
produce a single instance of the kind. In the very nature of things it
cannot be. Such persons may tell us they are well, when we make an
attack upon their habits; but take them when off their guard, and we
hear, at times, quite a different story.
In regard to the daily, or even the occasional use of the stronger
drugs of the apothecary's shop--whether this _shop_ is found in the
family or elsewhere--I would fain hope many of our young women may
claim an entire immunity. It seems to me to be enough, that they should
spoil their breath, their skin, their stomachs and their nerves, with
perfumes, aromatic seeds and spices, confectionary, and the like,
without adding thereto the more active poisons--as laudanum, camphor,
picra, antimony, &c.
The mention of the word confectionary, in the last paragraph, brings to
my mind a congregated host of evils which befall young women, as the
legitimate consequences of its use. Some may suppose that the class of
young women for whom I am writing, have little to do with
confectionary; that they have risen above it. Would that it were so!
But that it is not, many a teacher of young ladies' boarding schools,
female seminaries, &c.--to say nothing of parents--might abundantly
testify.
That they are very often the dupes of the quacks and quackery with
which our age abounds--or at least, that they take many of the pills,
and cough drops, and bitters, and panaceas of the day--I will not
believe. Much as they err to their own destruction, I trust they have
not yet sunk so low as this.
CHAPTER XXIX.
TAKING CARE OF THE SICK.
The art of taking care of the sick should be a part of female
education. Five reasons for this. Doing good. Doing good by proxy.
Great value of personal services. How can young women be trained to
these services? Contagion. Breathing bad air. Aged nurses. Scientific
instruction of nurses. Visiting and taking care of the sick, a
religious duty. Appeal to young women.
The art of taking care of the sick, should be considered an
indispensable part of female education. Some of the reasons for this
are the following:
1. As society now is, there is danger that the number of our young
women who fall into a state of indifference, not to say absolute
disgust, with the world and with life, will greatly increase, unless
the sex can be led, by an improved course of education, to exercise
more of that active sympathy with suffering which prompts to assist in
relieving it.
2. Nurses of the sick are greatly needed. It not unfrequently happens,
that good nurses cannot be obtained, male or female, except by going
very far in search for them. And yet it would seem that every one must
know the _importance_ of good nurses, from the prevalence of the
maxim--not more prevalent than just--"A good nurse is worth as much as
a physician."
What physician has not, again and again, seen all his efforts fail to
do any good, because not sustained by the labors of a skilful,
intelligent, faithful and persevering nurse? This condition is one of
the most trying that can befall him; and yet, trying as it is, it is
his very frequent lot.
3. Females are better qualified--other things being the same--for
attending the sick, than males. They not only have a softer hand, and
more kindness and gentleness, but they are also more devoted to
whatever they undertake; and they have more fortitude in scenes of
trial and distress. Their thoughts are, moreover, less engrossed by the
cares of business, and by other objects, than those of our sex. They
seem formed for days, and months, and years of watchfulness--not only
over our earliest infancy, but also over our first and second
childhood. And it were strange indeed, if nature, in qualifying them
for all this, had not qualified them to watch over us during the few
short years that intervene.
There may, indeed, be instances--there certainly are some such--where
the physical strength of females, unaided, is not sufficient for the
task of which I am speaking. For the most part, however, it is
gentleness, and patience, and fortitude, which are most wanted and in
these, woman stands pre-eminent.
4. It is often advantageous to have female assistance in taking care of
the sick, because it can be afforded at a much lower rate than that of
males. There are females who need the avails of these labors for a
livelihood; but not having been trained to them, they are not, of
course, employed. Hence there is suffering in both ways. The sick
suffer in the loss of the needed help, and the indigent woman suffers
for want of the avails of that labor which she might have been trained
to perform.
One great advantage of being able thus to obtain female attendants at a
cheaper rate, is that the sick would be more likely to have the regular
attention, or at least, the general care, of the same individual.
Thousands and thousands of sick people have died, who might easily have
recovered, had they been able to employ a regular nurse. Where a change
of nurses takes place almost every day, no one of them feels that
degree of responsibility which it is highly desirable that somebody, in
this capacity, should feel.
5. I have spoken of the necessity of having young women trained to the
art of taking care of the sick, that it may open a door to their
sympathies. But it should also be done to open the door to their
charities. Such charities as the gratuitous attendance of the sick,
where it can be afforded, are among the most valuable which can
possibly be bestowed. [Footnote: I mean, here, to speak only of those
charities which go to _correct_ the evils, which are in the world; for
however great the good we may do in spending time and influence in
correcting evil, the same amount of effort, rightly applied, must
always do still more good in the way of prevention.] Had we ever so
much money to give to the sick and distressed, it might be misapplied;
or, at least, applied in a way we should not approve. Even if it were
spent to procure good attendance, are we quite sure our own attendance
would not be still more useful? Is it not always better to do the good
ourselves--provided we are competent to do it--than by proxy;
especially, by employing those whom we know little or nothing of? If we
do all the good we are able to do, with our own hands, we feel that we
have better discharged our duty, than if we had first turned our labor
into money, and then applied the money to the same purpose.
But how is it possible, I shall doubtless be asked, that in a healthy
community like that of our own New England, young women generally can
be trained to understand this office?
There is no great difficulty in the case. Healthy as we are--that is,
comparatively so--we have in every neighborhood, if not in every
family, ample opportunities for initiating the young into this most
indispensable art. It is not expected, nor is it indeed desirable, that
they should be fully employed, or made fully responsible, at first.
There should be a sort of apprenticeship served, to this trade as well
as to any other. Indeed, I hardly know of an occupation or an art,
which more demands a long apprenticeship, than this. Put, as I was
going on to say, let young women, at a very early age, be gradually
inducted into the office. Some young female of their own age, is
perhaps sick. Let them solicit their mother and the friends of the
diseased, to permit them to be present a part or all of the time, that
they may observe and early understand the art of taking care of the
sick.
Let the young woman _solicit_ her mother, I say; because I apprehend,
as I have done all along, that the work of reformation in this matter,
no less than in others, must begin with the young woman. She finds
herself twelve, fourteen or sixteen years of age, and entering upon a
life involving duties and responsibilities, to her before unthought
of--and for which she finds herself most sadly unprepared. She believes
in the necessity of self-effort. What conscience tells her ought to be
done, she decides to do. She goes forward intelligently and what she
begins, she resolves, if possible, shall be finished.
Let it not be objected, that the introduction of the young to the sick
room will expose them, unnecessarily, either to contagion or the
breathing of bad air. For as to contagion, there is probably much less
of it in the world than many suppose. But whether there is less or more
danger, the best way to do, as the world is now situated, is, to inure
ourselves, gradually, to disease. There are in New York and
Philadelphia, many very aged persons, who have been employed as
professional attendants of the sick during all the visitations of those
cities with yellow fever and cholera, who have yet never taken either
of those diseases.
It is our fear of taking disease, very often, which makes us take it.
The sum total of the danger to the community, as a community, of
contracting even contagious disease, will actually be much lessened,
rather than increased, by all our young females being trained in the
art and practice of nursing the sick. And the same might be said of the
danger from bad air; because, the better the nurse is--that is, the
more thoroughly and scientifically she understands her profession--the
more pains will be taken in regard to ventilating, both the rooms of
the sick and of those who are healthy.
I know, very well, that to be a complete professional nurse, requires a
good deal of instruction in anatomy, physiology, hygiene and
chemistry--to say nothing of botany, and pharmacy, and materia medica.
But are not females fully competent to all this? Are they not as much
so, to say the least, as males? Besides, the same information which is
so indispensable to a nurse, if it should not be much wanted for this
purpose, (for some females would not be needed as nurses, to a very
great extent,) would be of inestimable value in the early management of
a family.
What can be more pitiable, than to see a young widowed mother--say at
twenty-five or thirty years of age--in poverty, in a situation remote
from neighbors, with three or four children sick with some epidemic
disease, while she is utterly unacquainted with the best methods of
taking care of them. Let it be supposed, still further, that she is
without a physician, and destitute of a nurse, excepting herself. What
is she to do? Take care of them herself she cannot, as she may honestly
tell you; having never taken care of a sick person, even a near
relation, for so much as a single day or night in her whole life!
"I was sick and ye visited me," is represented, moreover, by the Judge
of all the earth, as one of the grounds--not of salvation from sin--but
of final reward in the world of spirits. But can any one believe our
Saviour here means those empty, hollow-hearted visits now so common
among us?--just going, I mean, to a sick neighbor's door, and asking
how she does--or peradventure stepping in, only to stare at the
sufferer, and with a half suppressed breath and a sigh, to hope to
comfort her by wishing she may ultimately recover? No such thing. The
Saviour, by visiting the sick, meant those kind and valuable offices
which are worthy of the name; especially, when performed by the kind
and gentle hand of a lovely, intelligent, benevolent and pious woman.
Oh, young woman! hadst thou but a glimpse of one half the angelic
offices in thy power, how wouldst thou labor and pray for those
qualities and that education, which would enable thee to act up to the
dignity of thy nature, in the sight of God, angels and men! How wouldst
thou labor to accomplish thy noble destiny.
CHAPTER XXX.
INTELLECTUAL IMPROVEMENT.
Futility of the question whether woman is or is not inferior to man.
Conversation as a means of improvement. Taciturnity and loquacity.
Seven rules in regard to conversation. Reading another means of mental
progress. Thoughts on a perverted taste. Choosing the evil and refusing
the good. Advice of parents, teachers, ministers, &c. Advice of a
choice friend. Young people reluctant to be advised. Set hours for
reading. Reading too much. Reading but a species of talking.
Composition. Common mistakes about composing. Attempt to set the matter
right. Journalizing. How a journal should be kept. Music. Vocal music
something more than a mere accomplishment. Lectures and concerts.
Studies. Keys of knowledge.
Much has been said, incidentally, in the preceding chapters, of the
importance of extended intellectual improvement. Besides, I have
treated at large on this subject in another volume, [Footnote: See the
Young Wife, chap. xxxiii. p. 292.] to which, as scarcely less adapted
to the condition of young women than that of young wives, I must refer
the reader. What I have to say in this work, will be little more than
an introduction to the views there presented.
The long agitated question, whether woman is or is not equal to man in
capacity for intellectual improvement, need not, surely, be discussed
in this place. It is sufficient, perhaps, to know, that every young
woman is capable of a much higher degree of improvement than she has
yet attained, and to urge her forward to do all she can for herself,
and to do it with all her might.
I have already mentioned, in preceding chapters, several sources of
improvement--especially _observation_ and _reflection_. But there are
many sources of instruction accessible to those who are willing to be
instructed; both external and internal. Some of these will now be made
the subjects of a few passing remarks.
1. Conversation.--It is seldom, if ever, that we meet with an
individual of either sex, whose conversational powers have been
properly directed. To develope, cultivate and perfect these powers;
seems hardly to be regarded as a part of education. We have left the
tongue, like the rest of the frame to which it is attached, and of
which it forms a component part, to go very much at random. In some, to
be sure, it goes quite fast enough, and continues on the wing quite
long enough; but it is too apt to go without rule, measure or
profit--that is, comparatively so.
Now, to teach the tongue to go as it should--to teach it how to go, and
how long, and when and where to make use of its power--is not, by any
means, a small matter, or a very easy task. But ought not all this, and
much more, to be done?
The old notion, that taciturnity is wisdom, is now very generally
believed to be unfounded. These North American Indians who are most
remarkable for this trait of character, are not found to be a whit
wiser than other tribes who are more loquacious.
And what is found by observation to be true of nations or tribes, is
equally true of individuals. One of the most taciturn persons I ever
knew, and who passed with many for a very wise man, because he was very
silent and grave, turned out, on a more intimate acquaintance, to be
silent because he had nothing of importance to say.
Nor is loquacity uniformly a mark of wisdom. Some, indeed, talk a great
deal, because they have a great deal to say: you will find a few such
in a thousand. Others talk incessantly, either because they have
nothing else to do, or will do nothing else. They do not, indeed, talk
sense, or produce ideas; for sense and ideas they have not. At least,
their sense is not common or sound sense: and as for their ideas, they
are all superficial or borrowed.
Immense is the good which may be done in society, by conversation.
There is hardly an art or a science, the _elements_ of which, to say
the least, may not be inculcated orally; that is, by conversation. But
it is not necessary that our conversation, in order to be useful,
should always be very scientific. There are a thousand topics of
interest that have never yet been dignified with the name of science,
which might yet be discussed in our familiar circles to a very great
extent, and with both profit and pleasure.
When our conversation takes the form of story-telling, it is of still
more absorbing interest, than when it is confined to mere ordinary
colloquy. Here, again, a vast field of improvement opens upon our view.
Few acquirements are more valuable to a young woman who expects ever to
be at the head of a school or a family, than the art of relating a
story well; and yet, owing to the neglect of this matter in education,
no art, perhaps, is more uncommon.
A few leading principles, duly attended to, will, it is believed,
enable those who have already had some teaching on this subject, to
turn their conversation to better advantage; as well as aid, in the
work of reformation, those who have not been duly instructed.
1. We should enunciate correctly, and speak distinctly. Few persons do
this; and hence much of the pleasure which might otherwise be had, is
lost.
2. We should endeavor, as far as in us lies, to speak with grammatical
correctness. The custom of having two sorts of language--one for
composition and the other for conversation--appears to me to have a
very ill tendency. I would have no one converse in a language he does
not understand; but I would have every one converse correctly.
3. We should endeavor to select such topics as are not only profitable
to one party--either ourselves or those with whom we are
conversing--but such also as are likely to be acceptable. It is of
little use to _force a topic_, however great, in our judgment, may be
its importance.
4. Conversation should be direct--though not confined too long to one
point or topic. But while one subject is up, you should know how to
keep it up; or if the thoughts of either party wander, you should know
how to return to it, without too much apparent effort.
5. Conversation, like every thing else under the sun, should have its
time and place. It is as wrong to converse when we ought to read, or
study, or labor, or play, as it is to read or play when we ought to
converse. Social life has a great many vacancies, as it were, which
good, and sprightly, and well chosen conversation should fill up.
6. Conversation should be sprightly. If we converse not in this way, we
might almost as well dispense with conversation entirely. We might
nearly as well resort to the dead for society;--to the dead, I mean,
who speak to us through the medium of their works. Of course I refer to
conversation in general.
7. We should remember our responsibilities. "For every idle word that
men speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of
judgment"--said He who is to preside at the dread tribunal of which he
spake: and an apostle has told us, that "our conversation should be in
heaven;" that is, as I understand it, should be heavenly in its nature.
II. _Reading._--There are, as I suppose, few young women of the present
day, who do not read more or less; and to whom reading is not, in a
greater or less degree, a source of intellectual improvement. Their
reading is, however, governed chiefly by whim, or fancy, or
accident--or at most, by taste. Some read newspapers only; some read
only novels; some read every thing, and therefore nothing: Each of
these methods--if methods they can be called--is wrong.
But shall not a young woman be governed by her taste? Is that to be
turned wholly out of doors?
My reply is, that though our taste is not to be turned out of doors,
wholly, it is, nevertheless, a very imperfect guide, and needs
correction. Our intellect, like our moral and physical likes and
dislikes, is, as I have elsewhere said, perverted by the fall. I will
not say that our moral, intellectual and physical tastes are perverted
in an equal degree; for I do not think so. Still there is a perversion,
greater or less, of the whole man--in all his functions, faculties and
affections. As a general rule, when left to our own course, we choose
that food, for body, mind and soul, which, though it may be pleasant at
first, is bitter afterwards. "There is a way which seemeth right unto a
man, but the end thereof is death."
Still it may be said--If our intellectual tastes are perverted, how are
they to be set right? Why not, I ask, in the same way that our moral
taste is--by the word and truth of God? "To the law and to the
testimony."
The application of the doctrines I am now advocating, belongs, most
properly, to parents and teachers; religious teachers, especially.
Parents, aided by ministers of the gospel, and perhaps the family
physician, should decide for the young, individually, what means of
intellectual improvement are best for them, all things considered; what
books, society, studies, &c. But I must confine my remarks to books and
reading.
It is not difficult to decide what the tastes of a child shall be, in
regard to reading. I will not, indeed, say that a parent may at once do
every thing she desires; but she may do a great deal. The child's moral
and intellectual tastes are about as fully at her command, as its
physical ones; and who shall say that her power to the latter respect,
is second to any but that of the Creator?
It is not for parents, however, that I am now writing; but for those
whose taste, by the aid or neglect of parents, is already formed. If
formed on the basis of the word and truth of God--if they are inclined
to prefer the best books and reject the worst--then all is well but if
not, then the work of self-education is, in this respect, to set that
right which has hitherto been wrong.
Hardly any thing can be of greater importance in this matter, than the
assistance of a friend, in whom we can confide, in making our
selection. This is as necessary in regard to newspapers, as to books.
She who reads newspapers, indiscriminately, will derive little benefit
from them; as her head will be filled with such a mixture of truth and
falsehood, and wisdom and folly, as will be likely to do her more harm
than good.
Few will read to advantage, who have not their set hours for reading.
It is true, that unforeseen circumstances may, at times, break in upon
our arrangement, and impede our progress in knowledge; but if we have
no arrangement or system at all, we shall find our progress impeded
still more.
Do not read too much. The world is almost deluged with books. Not only
see that your selection is as it should be, in regard to the character
of the books, but beware of having too many of them. A few, well read
and understood, will be more valuable.
The importance of sometimes reading aloud, has been mentioned. It has
other advantages, however, than merely the exercise of the lungs. With
a proper monitor at hand, it may be made a useful aid in correcting our
enunciation, as well as in improving our conversational powers. Reading
is but speaking the thoughts of others instead of our own; and she is
the best reader--and indeed most likely to be made wiser by
reading--who speaks the most naturally. Our reading should be such,
generally, that a friend in an adjoining room would find it difficult
to tell whether we are reading or conversing.
III. _Composition_.--Next to conversation and reading, as a means of
intellectual improvement, I place composition. This is nothing, either
more or less--at least it should not be--than talking on paper. As
reading is merely talking over the thoughts of others--conversing in
another's words--so composition is merely conversing with others
through the medium of a piece of paper.
It is a most delightful consideration, that it has pleased God to
secure to us a written language. Are we grateful enough for the gift?
Do we think enough of the privilege of conversing in this way with
friends in every quarter of the globe?
One of the most valuable kinds of composition is letter-writing, or
epistolary correspondence. This, above all, should be in the style of
familiar though well directed conversation.
I wish, with all my heart, that people could get rid of the idea, that
there should be one style for conversation, and another for writing.
Here is the stumbling-stone on which youth of both sexes have been
stumbling, time immemorial; and on which, I fear, many will be likely
to stumble for some time to come.
Could they get rid of this strange belief--could they perceive, most
clearly, that composition is nothing more than putting our thoughts on
paper, instead of delivering them by word of mouth--and that
conversation is nothing less than composition, except that the words
are written as it were in the air, instead of being placed on a sheet
of paper--how soon would the complaints about the tediousness of
composition cease to be heard. Some young women, of sixteen, or
eighteen, or twenty years of age, appear to regard letter-writing as
childish. They talk of having once been so foolish as to be addicted to
the practice; but as having now outgrown it. Such persons have no
conception of the vast importance of this species of composition, as an
aid to correct thinking and correct writing. The more we think, the
more and better we are able to think; and the more we write, the more
thoughts we have which we wish to put down.
One valuable form of putting down thoughts--next to
letter-writing--consists in keeping a journal. I often wonder why our
families and schools should encourage almost every thing else, rather
than letter-writing and journalizing. Our familiar letters to familiar
friends, might often consist of extracts from our daily journals.
But here, again, there has been great error. Journals have usually
consisted of the driest details, or exteriors of events. The young
should be encouraged to record their feelings in them; their hopes and
fears--their anticipations and their regrets--their joys and their
sorrows--their repentances and their resolutions. Such journals, with
old and young, could not fail to advance the intellect, even if they
should not improve the heart.
IV. _Music_.--Attention to music-vocal music, especially-should always
form a part of female education. The day is gone by, as I trust, when
it was customary to say that none but the _gifted_ could acquire this
accomplishment. It is now, I believe, pretty well understood, that all
persons may learn to sing, as well as to read. Not, of course, equally
well, in either case; but all can make a degree of progress.
I have called singing an accomplishment; but it seems to me to be much
more. Its bearing upon the health, and even upon the intellect, is very
great. Even its moral tendency is by no means to be overlooked.
The value of music, to soothe the feelings and cast out the evil
spirits which haunt the path of human life, has never yet received that
measure of attention which it deserves. Even in those parts of
continental Europe, where all the peasants sing, and are accustomed to
fill the air with their cheerful and harmonious voices as they go forth
to prosecute their daily tasks, no less than in their families--even
there, I say, the full power and value of music are not understood.
They make it, by far too much, a sort of sensual gratification. Let it
be redeemed, for a better and a nobler purpose. Let it become a
companion of science and literature, as well as of industry and of
virtue--and of religion, still more than all.
V. _Lectures and Concerts_.--Lectures are often useful, even when they
do no more than afford an agreeable means of passing an hour's time.
They are not indispensable to those young women who love study; but are
more useful as a means of exciting inquiry in those who have very
little fondness for it. Besides, there are lectures, at times, on
subjects which cannot be found in books; and in such cases they may be
specially useful to all.
As for concerts, and parties of all sorts, attended as they usually are
in the evening, there are many objections to them--though, as society
is now regulated, it may not be best to denounce them altogether. Home
is the proper place for young women, as well as for other honest
people, after dark; at least this ought to be the general rule.
If lectures, concerts, &c., could be attended in the afternoon, there
would be fewer objections to them. Even then, however, there would
probably be more or less of intellectual dissipation connected with
their attendance. It is to be regretted that time, which is so
valuable, cannot be better employed, than in mere running abroad,
because others are going.
VI. _Studies._--If the young woman could have some judicious friend,
male or female, to advise her what books to read, and what studies to
pursue--and if the non-essentials in dress, &c., were discarded--I
cannot help thinking that life is long enough, to give her an
opportunity to become mistress of every thing which is usually thought
to belong to a good English education. I will venture to say, that
there is hardly a girl of twelve years of age, whose circumstances are
so unfavorable, as to prevent her from thus acquiring the keys of
knowledge by the time she is twenty-five years of age, could she be
directed in a proper manner.
I have spoken of acquiring the _keys_ of knowledge, as if this were the
first object of a course of studies. And such I regard it. I know,
indeed, that we reap some of the fruits of almost all our acquired
knowledge, immediately: still, the greater part remains for years to
come.
No young woman should fail to be thoroughly versed in spelling,
reading, writing, composition, grammar, geography and arithmetic--and
as much as possible, in anatomy, physiology, hygiene, chemistry,
botany, natural history, philosophy, domestic and political economy,
civil and ecclesiastical history, biography, and the philosophy of the
Bible--to say nothing of geology, and the higher branches of
mathematics.
One word more in regard to your handwriting. Nothing is more common, in
these days, than to write in a most illegible manner--a mere scribble.
Now, whatever young men may do in this respect, I beseech every young
woman to avoid this wretched, slovenly habit. Hardly any thing appears
more interesting to me, in a young woman, than a neat, delicate, and at
the same time plain style of hand-writing.
Do not pursue too many studies at once: it is the most useless thing
that can be done. Your knowledge, should you get any, would in that way
be confused and indefinite, instead of being clear, and practical, and
useful to you. I would never pursue more than one or two leading
sciences at one time; and in general, I think that one is better than
more. If you pursue more than one, let them be such as are related; as
geography and history.
Let me say, in closing this chapter, that the great end of all
intellectual culture, is to teach the art of _thinking_, and of
_thinking right_. To learn to think, merely, is to rise only one degree
above the brute creation. To learn to think _well_, however, is noble;
worthy of the dignity of human nature, and of the Author of that nature.
CHAPTER XXXI.
SOCIAL IMPROVEMENT.
Improvement in a solitary state. The social relations. Mother and
daughter. Father and daughter. Brother and sister. The elder sister.
Brethren and sisters of the great human family. The family
constitution. Character of Fidelia. Her resolutions of celibacy. In
what cases the latter is a duty. A new and interesting relation.
Selection with reference to it. Principles by which to be governed in
making a selection. Evils of a hasty or ill-judged selection.
Counsellors. Anecdote of an unwise one. Great caution to be observed.
Direction to be sought at the throne of grace.
Were there but a single individual in the wide world, that individual,
with the laws that woman now has to guide her--laws internal and
external, natural and revealed--would be susceptible of endless and
illimitable improvement. She might make advances every day--and it
would he her duty to do so--upward toward the throne of God, and
towards the perfection of him who occupies it.
But if much might be done by an individual in a solitary state, how
much more may be accomplished in the social state in which it has
pleased our Heavenly Father to place us? It is difficult to turn our
eyes in any direction, without being met by numerous and striking
proofs of divine wisdom and benevolence; but if there be any one thing
in the whole moral world, short of the redemption by Jesus Christ,
which overwhelms me with wonder, and leads me to adore more than any
thing else, it is the divine wisdom and benevolence, as manifested in
the social state allotted to man.
How interesting--how exceedingly so--the relation between a mother and
a daughter? And how many blessings--deficient as many mothers are in
knowledge and love--are showered upon the head of a young woman,
through maternal instrumentality! In no case; however, is this relation
more interesting, than when the young woman is just beginning to act
for herself. Then, if ever, should she avail herself of them. She knows
little of the world before her--either of the dangers on the one hand,
or the advantages on the other. Of these, however, the mother knows
much. Let the daughter value her society and good counsel above all
else human, and lay hold of it as for her life.
How interesting, too, the relation between a wise and good father, and
a virtuous and affectionate daughter! I am most struck, however, with
this relation--and most reminded of the divine goodness in its
institution--when I see a daughter ministering to the wants, moral and
physical, of a very aged relative, parent or grandparent; one who is
superannuated or sick.
There are, in civilized society--and above all, where the rays of the
blessed gospel of the Son of God have been let in--scenes on which
angels themselves might delight to gaze, and on which I have no doubt
they do gaze with the most intense delight. Would that such scenes were
still more frequent! Would that filial love was always what it should
be, instead of degenerating into cold formalities.
"How have I been charmed;" says Addison, "to see one of the most
beauteous women the age has produced, kneeling to put on an old man's
slipper." And so have I. It is a sight which revives one's hopes of
fallen nature. No matter if the infirmities of the parent are the
consequences of his own folly, vice and crime, the same soft hand is
still employed, day after day--and the same countenance is lighted up
with a smile, at being able thus to employ it.
But when to the tenderest love on the part of a young woman in this
relation, and to the kindest efforts to promote the temporal happiness
and comfort of those whom she holds dear is joined a love for the mind
and soul; when every opportunity, is laid hold of with eagerness, to
inform, and improve, and elevate--and this, too, though the subject of
her labor is the most miserable wreck of humanity of which we can
conceive; when to works of love are added the warmest prayers, at the
bedside and elsewhere, for Almighty aid and favor; the interest of the
scene is indescribable. It needs a more than mortal pen or pencil to
portray it.
There are other relations of society--relations of the young woman, I
mean, in particular--which are of great importance and interest. Among
these, are the relations of brother and sister.
Perhaps I am inclined to make too much of the passage of
Scripture--already noticed in another chapter--where Cain is said to
have been set over Abel, in the very language which is used to signify
the superiority of Adam over Eve. And yet it must mean something. There
is a mutual dependence between brothers and sisters of every age, which
should result in continual improvement--intellectual, moral and
religious. The duties involved in this relation, however, will be more
especially binding on elder brothers and sisters; and as it appears to
me, above all, on elder sisters. Indeed, in this respect, it is
impossible for me to be mistaken. An elder sister is a sort of second
mother; and she often fulfils the place of a mother. Oh, how
important-how sacred--the trust committed to her keeping.
I have seen the care of a large family devolve, by the death of the
mother, upon the elder daughter. Instead of her being disheartened at
all, I have known her to go forward in the pathway of duty--sensible,
at the same time, of her dependence on her Heavenly Father--and not
only instruct the other children, but "train them up," in same good
degree, "in the way they should go."
Do you think I respected or loved this young woman the less, because
she was thus early a house--keeper, a matron, and a mother? Do you
think I esteemed her the less, because--exclusive of the common
school--she had no seminary of instruction? Her education was a
thousand times more valuable than that of the fashionable routine of
the schools, without the kind of discipline she had. A world whose
females were all educated in the family schools--and especially in the
school of affliction, and poverty, and hardship--would be incomparably
a better world than one whose young women should "wear soft clothing,"
and live in "kings' courts"--who should be educated by merely
fashionable mothers, amid ease and abundance, and "finished" at the
institute or the boarding school.
Let me not be understood, in all this, as undervaluing kind mothers,
and boarding schools, and comforts--and luxuries, even--in themselves
considered. All I mean to discourage, is, a reliance on them, to the
exclusion of other things of more importance. If we could have the
latter in the first place--difficulties, hard-ships, hard labor, and
adversity--and upon these engraft the former, I should like it
exceedingly well. What I dislike is, not ornament, in itself, but
ornament on that which is not worth ornamenting; and above all,
_nothing but ornament_.
Let every young woman whose eye meets these paragraphs, rejoice, if she
has younger brothers or sisters--or even if she has brothers or sisters
at all. The younger may do something for the older, as well as the
older much for the younger. And if she is without either, there are
probably other and remoter relatives for whom something may be done.
I have alluded, elsewhere, to grand-parents There are usually uncles,
aunts and cousin's--sometimes in great numbers. There is much due to
these. I know, very well, that out over-refinement, in an over-refined
and diseased society, says otherwise, of late; and that our time is
expended more and more--especially that of females--on our own dear
selves to the exclusion of remoter relatives. But this should not be
the case. Whether we have brethren or sisters, properly so called,
together with other more distant relatives, or not, _we have brethren
and sisters_. The world is but a great family; and all are brethren, or
ought to be so. We should love all--even our enemies--as brethren; but
we should love, with the deepest and most enduring affection, those who
love God most ardently. "My mother and brethren are they that hear the
word of God and do it," said the Saviour; and it is only in proportion
as we possess his spirit, that we shall be found to belong, in the
truest sense, to his family.
The ties of which I have been speaking, in the preceding paragraphs,
will have but poorly answered their purpose, if they have not had the
effect to raise us to this universal love referred to by the Saviour.
For this they were chiefly instituted; and to this, in the best state
of human society, do they tend. They do not lead us to love relations,
usually so called, any less: neither did they have this effect on
Jesus. But they lead us to love the world at large, more.
If young women would have the spirit of our Lord and Saviour--or if
they would be instruments in his hands of hastening the glad day of his
more complete reign on the earth and in the hearts of his intelligent
family--they must strive to come up to this love of the human family.
It is to elevate them to this love, I again say, that the family
institution, with all the interesting relations which grow out of it,
was instituted. When it has accomplished this work, though it will not
cease to be valuable, in the abstract, it will be less valuable
relatively--because it will absorb a smaller proportion of our thoughts
and affections, and leave a larger proportion for the world in general,
and its Creator.
I have quoted, elsewhere, the sentiments of Addison, in regard to the
filial affection of daughters. In the same paper, this interesting
writer embodies his views on this subject, in the character of a young
woman by the name of Fidelia, whose devotion to her father he describes
as follows:
"Fidelia is now in the twenty-third year of her age; but the
application of many admirers, and her quick sense of all that is truly
elegant and noble in the enjoyment of a plentiful fortune, are not able
to draw her from the side of her good old father. When she was asked by
a friend of her deceased mother to admit the courtship of her son, she
answered that she had a great respect and gratitude to her for the
overture in behalf of one so near to her; but that during her father's
life, she would admit into her heart no value for any thing which
should interfere with her endeavors to make his remains of life as
happy and easy as could be expected in his circumstances. The happy
father has her declaration that she will not marry during his life, and
the pleasure of seeing that resolution not uneasy to her."
Now, though I am not quite satisfied with the selfishness of the
father, in this case--nor with the notion of Fidelia, that the
particular friendship of another would interfere materially with her
filial duties--yet I do not undertake to say that there are no cases in
which a young woman has the right--the moral right--to make resolutions
not unlike that made by Fidelia. It does not seem that her resolution
to neglect the society of others for the sake of discharging an
important filial duty, was for a longer period, than during the short
life of a very decrepid old father.
I have introduced this subject in this place, as the preface to a
series of remarks on that particular relation which every young
woman--except, perhaps, a few who are situated like Fidelia--ought to
be prepared to sustain, and to sustain well. Indeed, I consider this to
be paramount, at a suitable age, to every other; and that no duty can,
as a general rule, be more obligatory.
He who instituted the law of marriage, has not, indeed, condescended to
say how early or in what circumstances this command must be yielded to,
or obeyed; but, as a general rule, he requires it to be obeyed, in some
form or other, and at some time or other. Or, to express the views I
entertain more correctly, I should say, that no young woman, in
ordinary circumstances, has a right to resolve to neglect the subject
forever--or to say she never will marry. She is to consider the command
of the Creator as obligatory, as a general fact, on the whole human
race. She must remember, moreover, that if it is binding on the whole,
it must be so on the individuals composing that whole.
On these principles the education of every young woman should, as I
think, be conducted; and if, by the neglect of parents, masters or
guardians, it has not been so, then it should be the aim of the young
woman herself, in her efforts at self-education, to supply what has
been by others omitted. Some of the items in this work of education
have been alluded to--not only in the chapter on "Domestic Concerns;"
and in that on "Economy," but elsewhere. My purpose at the present
time, is merely to speak of the selection of her society with reference
to her future state of life.
This is a subject of the highest importance to the happiness--present
and future--of every young woman. The marriage relation, considered
only as a means of completing the education of the parties, is one of
immense importance. But it is of still greater importance, in reference
to other duties which it involves. Hence it requires much forethought
and reflection. Let me prevail with you, therefore, when I urge upon
you the following considerations:
1. Never think for one moment of the society of any other than a good
man. Whatever may be his extrinsic endowments--wit, beauty, talent,
rank, property or prospects--all should be as nothing to you, unless
his character is what it should be. Of course, I am not encouraging you
to look for angelic perfection or purity on this earth; but do not make
too many allowances, on the other hand, for frailty. A close
examination, as with the microscope, will disclose irregularity and
roughness on the most polished or smooth surface: how then will that
surface appear which is uneven without the microscope? If it were
possible for your associate for life to come apparently near celestial
purity and excellence, a closer acquaintance would, most undoubtedly,
convince you that he was of terrestrial origin. Do the best you can,
therefore, and you will do ill enough.
2. It is not sufficient, however, that the friend you seek should be
good--that is, negatively so: he must do good. Multitudes, in these
days, pass for good men because they do no harm; or because, at most,
they maintain a good standing, and are benevolent in the eye of the
world. I know of more than one person in the world, who gives his
property by thousands, annually--and whose praise is in all the
churches--who never yet gave any thing worth naming, in his life, if
the gospel rule on this subject is the correct one--that the widow who
_of her penury_ cast into the treasury two mites, in reality cast in
more than all they who of _their abundance_ bestowed large and liberal
sums.
Let your associate, therefore, be a doer of good, in deed and in truth.
This is said, however, with the supposition that you are so yourself;
for if I have not already convinced you that the great end for which
you were sent into the world is to do good, I shall not expect to do so
by any remarks which could be thrown in here. If you are still out of
the way, it is to be feared you will remain so: nor shall I expect
you--for reasons to be seen presently--to seek the society of those who
do not possess the same turn of mind.
3. It is highly desirable that the individual with whom you associate
for life, should be something more than merely a good man. This,
however, does not explain my meaning. For are there not many of the
most excellent persons in the world, whom you would not willingly take
for a daily companion? Do you not desire likeness in opinion, taste,
purpose, &c.? Might not the two very best persons in the world be
unhappy in each other's constant society, if they were exceedingly
unlike each other?
In the establishment, then, of this interesting relation, seek by all
means an individual who appears to entertain views of social life, as
much as possible, like your own. Does he find his happiness in going
abroad, or in lounging? Is he impatient in the society of children? Is
he a great friend of parade and excitement? And are you the reverse of
all this? Do you love most the quiet and retirement of home--and to be
surrounded by infancy and childhood? Do you dread, above almost all
things in the world, excitement and parade?
Does your friend hate nothing so much as his own thoughts and
reflections? Does he dread, also, like the cholera or the plague, all
efforts at mental or moral improvement? Does he hate improving
conversation--and above all, those books and associates which have the
improvement and elevation of the body and spirit, for their great and
leading object? And have you a different taste--entirely so? Do you
live--do you eat, drink, sleep, wake, exercise, dress, labor, play,
converse, read, and think, and pray that you may become wiser, and
better, and holier?
In short, is the ultimate object of the one, the gratification of self;
and does all, with him, terminate in the external; while the other
seeks primarily, in all things, the improvement, the holiness and the
happiness of herself and others? How can such persons be suitable
companions for each other? Can two walk together, says the Scripture,
unless they are agreed--that is, agreed as to the main points and
purposes of life?
I know of no being whom I so much pity, as a young woman who,
believing, perhaps, that a "reformed rake," once handsome, or it may
be, a wit, makes the best companion, becomes chained for life to a
stupid, shiftless creature--one whose energies of body and soul are
exhausted, and seem unsusceptible of being renovated or restored--one,
too, with whom, in that more intimate acquaintance which time and
circumstances afford her, proves to be totally unworthy of her hand or
her heart!
I have said that I know of no being so pitiable, as a young woman thus
situated. I know of none, I mean to say, except a young man in similar
circumstances. Did the effects of these unhappy companionships
terminate on themselves, the misfortune would not be so great. Woman,
at any rate, with her fortitude, might endure it. But it is not usually
so; and here is the great evil. Misery is inflicted on a new
generation; one that has done nothing to deserve it.
Let me entreat my readers, therefore, while I urge them to regard the
companionship of which I am now speaking as a matter of duty, to be
exceedingly careful in their selection of a companion. Choose; but do
not be in haste. On the wisdom of your choice, much more depends than
you can now possibly imagine:--it is for your life. Would you could
realize this truth: for though so old and so often repeated that it may
appear rather stale, it is not the less true for its age.
Have nothing to do, above all, with those who despise your sex. There
is a large number of young men--much larger, indeed, than you may be
aware, who have caught the spirit, not to say sentiments, of Byron, in
regard to woman.
They have _caught_ them, I say; but this, perhaps, is not so. I will
only say they _have_ them. I know not how, as a general fact, they came
by them. I can only say that they are often very early imbibed; and
that they grow with their growth, and strengthen with their strength.
Would to Heaven this utter skepticism in regard to female worth and
purity could be removed; or rather prevented. It is the bane of social
life--as I could show, were I disposed to do so, by a thousand
illustrations.
As a general rule--to which, perhaps, there are some exceptions--it is
according to human nature to suspect others to be wanting in those
virtues which we are conscious we are wanting in ourselves. Find a
person wanting in sterling integrity, and he is the very person to be
found complaining of the want of it in others. I will not say that his
complaints are not sometimes--indeed, quite too often--just; I only
say, that whether just or not, neither his suspicions nor complaints
prove them to be so.
Beware, then--I beseech you, beware--of the young man who is ever
prating about the innate worthlessness, not to say vice, of your sex. I
do not say, reject him forever, simply on suspicion; for that would be
to go to the other extreme. But though I have admitted that there may
possibly be exceptions in regard to the general rule I have laid down,
I also insist that they are rare. Therefore, I again say, be wary in
forming your friendships--and especially so, in suffering them to
become more and more intimate.
Precisely in these circumstances is it, that you may derive immense
benefit from a discreet female friend. But in this, too, you must be
deliberate, and use great judgment; for there are many whose views on
this subject are such as entirely to disqualify them for the office of
an adviser. I remember hearing a lady of great gravity--though of much
good sense in all other respects--say, that she thought the friends of
a young woman were much more competent to select a companion for her,
than she was to make the selection for herself. I was so struck with
the remark, that not knowing but I misapprehended her meaning, I
ventured to inquire whether she really meant to say, that other people
could judge better in regard to selecting a companion for life, than
the parties most concerned in the choice. To which she answered, Yes,
without hesitation; and immediately went upon a defence of her opinion.
I was as little pleased, however, with the defence, as with the
assertion; for the whole thing carried absurdity on the very face of
it. It cannot, surely, be so; it is contrary to the very nature of
things.
I cannot help counselling you to be as wary of such an adviser, as of
the friend to whom she would direct your attention. The choice--the
final choice--be it never forgotten, rests on you: because on you rests
the responsibilities. While, therefore, you seek, with great
earnestness, for advice, seek it as advice only. Neither seek, nor
admit, in any case, a dictator.
Be it also ever remembered, that it is your duty to sift, with great
care, the opinions and views of one in whom you are daily becoming more
and more deeply interested. If it be even true, that woman is _not_
distinguished for perseverance, let this fact only stimulate you to use
what powers of perseverance you possess. Though you are not to be held
responsible for the exercise of talents which you have not, you _are_
to account for what talents you have; and fearful may be the reward of
the individual who is found delinquent in the matter before us; fearful
in this life, even were it possible to escape punishment in the life to
come. Let a comparison, then, be faithfully made of your views on all
important subjects:--as female superiority or inferiority; selfishness
and benevolence; dress and equipage; education of ourselves and others;
discipline--its means, instruments and ends; household management;
amassing property; the chief end of human existence; particular duties,
&c.
While I would encourage every young woman to look forward to married
life as a matter of duty, I am very far from desiring to encourage that
indiscriminate conversation, which, among young women, is rather
common. Let it be discussed by the young, chiefly in the company of
their parents. Above all, let not females be found talking with great
interest on this subject in the presence of the other sex. Such
conversation, in such circumstances, is evil, and only evil, in its
tendency.
Parents may prevent this mistake in young women, if they will. The
mother, at least, can prevent it. Where mothers manage the matter as it
ought to be managed, you will not find daughters, on going into
company, so deeply interested in these matters that nothing seems so to
loosen the tongue, light up the countenance, and brighten the eye, as
conversation about the latest engagements and marriages, and nothing so
much or so quickly interest them in a newspaper, even a religious one,
and that, too, on the Sabbath, as the list of marriages. Alas! do
mothers or daughters know what are the practical common sense
inferences from this conduct, where it greatly abounds.
Remember, moreover, in this matter, as well as in all other matters
which concern your own happiness and the happiness of others--in this
matter, I might say, which concerns your happiness more than almost all
others--to seek the direction of that Being who has said, "If any lack
wisdom, let him ask of God." You cannot, surely, obey this first
injunction on the human race, without first and always, at every step
of your course, seeking for his approbation. You cannot, in one word,
be concerned in a duty which may involve the destinies--present and
eternal--of millions and millions of human beings, without looking
upward toward the throne of God, and soliciting, with all the humility,
as well as confidence, of the most devoted child of an earthly parent,
that wisdom and guidance which are to be found in all fulness in the
Father of lights, and which, when properly apprehended, can never
mislead you.
CHAPTER XXXII.
MORAL PROGRESS.
Importance of progress. Physical improvement a means rather than an
end. The same true of intellectual improvement. The general homage
which is paid to inoffensiveness. Picture of a modern Christian family.
Measuring ourselves by others. Our Saviour the only true standard of
comparison. Importance of self-denial and self-sacrifice. Blessedness
of communicating. Young women urged to emancipate themselves from the
bondage of fashion, and custom, and selfishness.
After all I have said of the importance of physical, intellectual and
social improvement and progress, it is _moral_ progress for which we
were, pre-eminently, created. The great end of Christianity itself--to
use the words of a learned and eloquent divine--is, to make men better
than they were before: but whether or not this expresses the entire
truth, one thing is certain--that wherever Christianity fails to make
man better, it fails of accomplishing its whole intention respecting
him. Perhaps the apostle expressed the idea I would inculcate, in the
fewest words and in the clearest manner, when he required his converts
to "grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ."
Mere physical improvement--or even physical perfection, were it
attainable--would hardly be worth the pains, if it were any thing more
than a means to an end. We might study the subject of health, and
practice its excellent rules with the utmost zeal and faithful
conscientiousness; and yet it would hardly prove a blessing to us, if
it only gave us the more efficiency in the service of the world, the
flesh and the devil. And the same, or nearly the same, may be said of
intellectual improvement and progress. Though the general tendency of
both--when conscience is properly trained and the heart set right--is
beneficial, yet it is not necessarily so, without a right heart and
correct conscience. Satan is not wanting--so to speak--in intelligence
or physical energy.
Physical and intellectual development and progress, therefore, are
little more than means to secure an end. If they prove to be what it
was the original intention of the Creator they should be, they are
eminently conducive to our highest interests, both as respects this
world and the world which is to come. If otherwise, they do but
accelerate, and in the end aggravate, our doom. They tend but to make
our condemnation the more sure, and the more dreadful.
I have urged, elsewhere, the importance of conscientiousness in every
thing we do: let me especially recommend you to make continual progress
in excellence or holiness, a matter of conscience. Do not be
continually measuring yourself--above all, your spiritual self--by your
neighbors. If you are the true disciple of Christ, and if you are what
a Christian should be in this land of Christianity, you will not
indulge yourself in comparisons with any but the Saviour himself. You
will be daily and hourly striving to possess more and more of his
spirit; in the belief that without the spirit of Christ, you neither
are nor can be his.
It is painful to think of the great number of individuals who go
through life--often through a long life--and yet accomplish so little
for themselves and others. That they are free from outward immorality
or blame--as much so at least as their neighbors--seems to satisfy
them. Some of the best families I know, are trained in this way. They
are excellent people; they are disciples of Christ, if there are any
such in the world: we cannot say aught against them, if we would. They
seem to discharge all the external duties of our holy religion with a
most scrupulous exactness; and they seem--the whole family--to bear the
image of Christ. Whatever is true or lovely, is theirs; or appears to
be so.
And yet, if you examine closely the matter, you will find that much of
all this is the result of circumstances. They possess, by inheritance,
a happy temper--or they are in circumstances which make virtue easy to
them.
But the spirit and genius of Christianity require a great deal more
than mere inoffensiveness--though that is, of itself, certainly, a
great deal. They require continual progress from glory to glory. But
this progress can only be made amid self-denial and cross-taking.
"Whoso taketh not up his cross," daily and hourly, is not a true
disciple of the great Teacher. It is even through "much tribulation"
only, that we can enter into the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour.
Now, to what self-denials, what tribulations, what taking up of the
cross, do these easy, lovely families of which I am speaking, ever
subject themselves? Trained happily, they are generally healthy--and
therefore they have few trials from sickness. They live in the midst of
abundance, and always have done so--abundance of food, clothing, &c.,
and of what they regard as of the best quality. They have more than
heart can wish: their eyes, as it were, stand out with fatness. They
know nothing of want: they know nothing even of inconvenience--except
for some hapless moment, when a neighbor gets a little ahead of them in
the fashion of their dress, their equipage, or their tables. Then a
feeling of envy--peradventure a half expressed feeling of
detraction--appears to mar, for a short time, their peace.
I have said that these inoffensive people--these do-no-harm
Christians--know nothing of want. When and where have they cut
themselves short of any thing to which they were lawfully entitled, for
the sake of doing good to others? They have, indeed, performed works of
charity and mercy, as much as other people of their own property and
standing in society. But they have given, always, of their abundance.
They have never so given as to impoverish the giver--so as to make
themselves feel the least privation. They have visited the sick: but
when has the time they have given, seriously incommoded them? Have they
not had time enough left for their own purposes? Have they not, in this
respect, given of their abundance? Perhaps they have clothed the poor,
to some extent; but have they denied themselves to do it? Have not
their closets, and houses, and the neighboring livery stable, been well
furnished and supplied, notwithstanding? Have they not given, in this
respect, wholly of their abundance--and not, like the good woman
mentioned in the gospel, of their penury?
It is exceedingly painful, I say again, to find professedly good people
among us living, as Watts calls it, at such a poor, dying rate; the
professed disciples of a Master who became poor for their sakes, by
giving up, not only the luxuries of life, but even many of its
necessaries--and yet not giving up or denying themselves a single thing
all their lives long.
Can such people expect to make advances in holiness--to grow in grace
and in the knowledge of Christ--and yet not act like him, or follow
him? For be it always remembered--the benefits of doing good are to
those _who do it, more than to those to whom it is done_. This is the
ordination and arrangement of Providence. "It is more blessed to give
than to receive." How sad a mistake, then, is made by those who
seem--from their conduct--to think there is little happiness in giving;
and that their charities abridge, by so much, their happiness, instead
of adding to it.
Young woman, should it be your lot to belong to one of these happy and
excellent families--for I do not deny that they are among our best
people, after all, though they are very far from having, as yet, come
up to the self-denying, self-sacrificing spirit of the Lord that bought
them, and become willing to be poor, and to suffer not a little want of
time, money, &c. for even their own apparent necessities, temporal or
spiritual--I say, if in the providence of God, you have been accustomed
to see almost the whole time and labor of a family, with the avails of
a handsome, or at least respectable property, used up year after year
by that family, in eating, and drinking, and sleeping, and dressing
_comfortably_--in mere passive enjoyment, in one word--while the
blessedness of active enjoyment, in the doing of good to others, has
been hardly known--be it yours to break the chain that binds this
circle of selfishness, and go forth to the work of impoverishing
yourself, as did your Lord and Master. Think not to make any
considerable moral progress, otherwise! The soul must have food, as
well as the body. This continual indulgence of the body, while the soul
is unfed, or only fed just enough to keep it from starving, will never
do for you. If you yield to the influence of this fashionable kind of
excellence, and strive not to rise higher, I will not say that you will
live to little purpose; but I will say, that you will have but very
little of real, valuable, immortal life, till you pass beyond the
bounds of time and space. Whereas, you ought to begin your heaven here.
For "this is the will of God, even your sanctification;" and it was the
prayer of Paul concerning some to whom he wrote--"The God of peace
sanctify you wholly."
Will you not, then, O young woman! in view of these considerations,
seek for deliverance from the spell that binds thousands and millions
of otherwise good people to a narrow, selfish circle, in which they
continually wander--coming round and round again, every night, to the
same spot, or nearly the same, but making no considerable progress?
Will you not study, and labor, and pray, for more and more of the
spirit of Him, who not only stripped himself of every glory to which
he, had been accustomed, but, instead of retaining that which was his
divine right, deprived himself of every thing which is calculated to
make life comfortable in the common sense of the term, and only sought
his happiness in perfecting holiness in the fear of God, by living and
dying for his brethren--the whole human family? Will you not henceforth
study to be more and more conformed to the Divine image--and to act
less and less in conformity with a world whose predominating motive to
action, is selfishness?
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