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Les diagrammes suivants lilustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 Mil PD vt ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN, AND (incidentally) TO YOUNG WOMEN, IN TU£ MIDDLE AND HIGHER RANKS OF LIFE. 4 J IN A SERIES OF LETTEHS^ ADDRESSED TO A YOUTH, A BACHBLOll, A LOVER, A HUSBAND, A CITIZEN OH A SUBJECT. ■%: m BY WIIiLIAM COBBETT. *-,^. w^- « / J » PUBLIBHED BY JOHN DOYLE, 12 LIBERTY STREET, Ster»ott/ped try Jamea Conner* 1833. f 4h t^t- * ti •^ ^ ^ »> A '» .. -i f ■ .i INTRODUCTION. .»!!''.. 1. It is the duty, and ought to be the pleasure, of age and experience to warn and instruct youth and to come to the aid of inexperience. When sailors have discovered rocks or breakers, and have had the good luck to escape with life from amidst them, they, unless they be pirates or barbarians as well as sai- lors, point out the spots for the placing of buoys and of lights, in order that others may not be exposed to the danger which they have so narrowly escaped^ What man of common humanity, having, by good luck, missed being engulfed in a quagmire or a quick- sand, will withhold from his neighbours a knowledge of the peril without which the dangerous spots are not to be approached'? 2. The great effect which correct opinions and sound principles, imbibed in early life, together with the good conduct, at that a^e, which must naturally result from such opinions and principles ; the great effect' which these have on the whole course of our lives is, and must be, well known to every man of common observation. How many of us, arrived at 1- i -i * ■^■1 INTRODUCTION. only 40 yoar», have to repent ; nay, which of ua has not to repent, or has not had to repent, that he did not, at an earlier age, possess a great stock of know- ledge of that kind which has an immediate effect on our personal ease and happiness ; that kind of knowledge, upon which the cheerfulness and the harmony of our homes depend! 3. It is to communicate a stock of this sort of knowledge, in particular, that this work is intended; knowledge, indeed, relative to education, to many sciences, to trade, agriculture, horticulture, law, government, and religion ; knowledge relating, in- cidentally, to all these ; but, the main object is to furnish that sort of knowledge to the young which but few men acquire until they be old, when it comes too late to be useful. ^ 4. To communicate to others the knowledge that I possess has always been my taste and my delight ; and few, who know any-thing of my progress through life, will be disposed to question my fitness for the task. Talk of rocks and breakers and quag- mires and quick-sands, who has ever escaped from amidst so many as I have ! Thrown (by my own will, indeed) on the wide world at a very early age, not more than eleven or twelve years, without mo- ney to support, without friends to advise, and with- out book-learning to assist me ; passing a few years dependent solely on my own labour for my subsist- ence ; then becoming a common soldier and leading a military life, chiefly in foreign parts, for eight years prom rnarr}! to acq passin author portan 1793 1( try, a Englis in the c in such 8q)prob? ing to I suffering of impr] nishmen breaking lie on, ai bles and every w eleven w taining n tion ; wri nine year the Engli Cottage, I work on of Sermo the Prote } INTRODUCTION. « years ; quitting that life after really, for me, high promotion, and with, for me, a large sum of money ; marrying at an early age, going at once to France to acquire the French language, thence to America ; passing eight years there, becoming bookseller and author, and taking a prominent part in all the im- portant discussions of the interesting period from 1793 to 1799, during which there was, in that coun- try, a continued struggle carried on between the English and the French parties ; conducting myself, in the ever-active part which I took in that struggle, in such a way as to call forth marks of unequivocal approbation from the government at home ; return- ing to England in 1800, resuming my labours here, suffering, during these twenty-nine years, two years of imprisonment, heavy fines, three years self-ba- nishment to the other side of the Atlantic, and a total breaking of fortune, so as to be left without a b^d to lie on, and, during these twenty-nine years of trou- bles and of punishments, writing and publishing, every week of my life, whether in exile or not, eleven weeks only excepted, a periodical paper, con- taining more or less of matter worthy of public atten- tion ; writing and publishing, during the eame twenty- nine years, a grammar of the French and another of the English language, a work on the Economy of the Cottage, a work on Forest Trees and Woodlands, a work on Gardening, an account of America, a book of Sermons, a work on the Corn-plant, a history of the Protestant Reformation ; all books of great and 1* >»., 'J i I* I A V I I niTRODuonov. continued sale, and the kut unquestionably the hook of greatest circulation in the whole world, the Bible only excepted; having, during tTtese same twenty^ ittfitf yeart, of troubles and embarrassments without number, introduced into England the manufacture of Strawplat ; also several valuable trees ; having in- troduced, during the same twenty-nine years, the cultivation of the Corn-plant so manifestly valuable as a source of food ; having, during the same period, always (whether in exile or not) sustained a shop of some size, in London ; having, during the whole of the same period, never employed less, on an ave- rage, than ten persons, in some capacity or other, exclusive of printers, bookbinders, and others, con- nected with papers and books ; and having, during these twenty-nine years of troubles, embarrassments, prisons, fines, and banishments, bred up a family of seven children to man's and woman's state. 5. If such a man be not, after he has survived and accomplished all this, qualified to give Advice to Young Men, no man is qualified for that task. There may have been natural geniua : but genius alone, not all the genius in the world, could, without somethinff more, have conducted me through these perils. During these twenty-nine years, I have had for deadly and ever-watchful foes, a government that has the collecting and distributing of sixty millions of pounds in a year, and also, every soul who shares in that distribution. Until very lately, I have had, for the far greater part of the time, the whole of the mTRODucrtm. press as my deadly enemy. Yet, at this moment, it will not be pretended, that there is another man in the kingdom, who has so many cordial friends. For as to the finenda of ministers and the great, the friend- ship is towards the power, the influeiice ; it is, in fact, towards those taxes, of which so many thou- sands are gaping to get at a share. And, if we could, through so thick a veil, come at the naked fact, we should find the subscription, now going on in Dublin for the purpose of erecting a monument fn that city, to commemorate the good recently done, or alleged to be done, to Ireland, by the Duke of Welunoton ; we should find, that the subscribers have the taxes in view ; and that, if the monument shall actually be raised, it ought to have sdfishneM and not gratitiide, engraven on its base. Nearly the same may be said with regard to all the praises that we hear bestowed on men in power. The friend- ship which is felt towards me, is pure and disinter- ested : it is not founded in any hope that the parties can have, that they can ever profit from professing it: it is founded on the gratitude which they enter- tain for the good that I have doiie them : and of this sort of friendship, and friendship so cordial, no man ever possessed a larger portion. 6. Now, mere genius will not acquire this for a man. There must be something more than genius : there must be industry : there must be perseverance : there must be, before the eyes of the nation, proofs of extraordinary exertion ; people must say to them* % A i ,1 \ J I y} 8 iNtRODUCTION. selve»| " What wise conduct must fhere have been " in the employing of the time of this man ! How " sober, how sparing in diet, how early a riser, how " little expensive he must have been !" These are the things, and not genius, which have caused my labours to be so incessant and so successful : and, though I do not affect to believe, that every young wan, who should read this work, will become able to perform labours of equal magnitude and impor- tance, I do pretend, that every young man, who will attend to my advice, will become able to perform a great deal more than men generally do perform, whatever may be his situation in life j and, that he will, too, perform it with greater ease and satisfac- tion, than he would, without the advice, be able to perform the smaller portion. i 7. I have had, from thousands of young men, and men advanced in years also, letters of thanks for the great benefit which they have derived from my la- bours. Some have thanked me for my Grammars, some for my Cottage-Economy, others for the Wood- lands and the Gardener ; and, in short, for every one of my works have I received letters of thanks from numerous persons, of whom I had never heard be- fore. In many cases I have been told, that, if the parties had had my books to read some years before, the gain to them, whether in time or in other things, would have been very great. Many, and a great many, have told me, that, though long at school, and though their parents had paid for their being taught INTRODUCTION. I )een [low how 3 are Imy and, owng able npor- 5 will >rm a •form, lat he tisfac- ible to English Grammar, or French, they had, in a short time, learned more from my books, on those sub- jects, than they had learned, in years, from their teachers. How many gentlemen have thanked me, in the strongest terms, for my Woodlands and Gar- dener, observing (just as Lord Bacon had observed in his time) that they had before seen no books, on these subjects, that they could urtder stand. But, I know not of any thing that ever gave me more satis- faction than I derived from the visit of a gentleman of fortune, whom I had never heard of before, and who, about four years ago, came to thank me in person for a complete reformation, which had been worked in his son by the reading of my two ser« MONS on drinking^ and on gaming, 8. I have, therefore, done, already, a great deal in this way : but there is still wanting, in a compact form, a body of Advice such as that which I now propose to give : and in the giving of which I shall divide my matter as follows. 1. Advice addressed to It Youth ; 2. Advice addressed to a Bachelor ; 3. Advice addressed to a Lover ; 4. To a Husband : 6. To a Father ; 6. To a Citizen or Subject. 9. Some persons will smile, and others laugh out- right, at the idea of " Cobbett's giving advice for conducting the affairs of tore." Yes, but I was once young, and surely I may say with the poet, I forget which of them : *' Though old I am, for ladiee' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet*' i! ''" J 1 10 luVBJoimmov.' I forget, indeed, thenamea of the ladles as completely, pretty nigh, as I do that of the poets ; but I remem- ber their influence, and of this influence on the con- duct and in the afiairs and on the condition of men, I have, and must have, been a witness all my life long. And, when we consider in how great a degree the happiness of all the remainder of a man's life de- pends, and always must depend, on his taste and judgment in the character of a lover, this may well be considered as the most important period of the whole term of his existence. 10. In my address to the ERjsband, I shall, of course, introduce advice relative to the important duties of masters and servants; duties of great im- portance, whether considered as affecting families or as affecting the community. In my address to the Citizen or Subject, I shall consider all the recipro- cal duties of the governors and the governed, and also the duties which man owes to his neighbour. It would be tedious to attempt to lay down rules for conduct exclusively applicable to every distinct call- ing, profession and condition of life ; but, under the above-described heads, will be conveyed every spe- cies of advice of which I deem the utility to be un- questionable. 11. I have, thus, fully described the nature of my little work, and, before I enter on the first Letter, 1 venture to express a hope, that its good eff*ects will be felt long after its author shall have ceased to exist. LETTER I. TO A voirrH. .■J •■■• <»■- '. -I ^ *^ 12. You are now arrived at that age which the law thinks sufficient to make an oath, taken by you, valid in a court of law. Let us suppose from four- teen to nearly twenty ; and, reserving, for a future occasion, my remarks on your duty towards pa- rents, let me here offer you my advice as to the means likely to contribute largely towards making you a happy man, useful to all about you, and an honour to those from whom you sprang. 13. Start, I beseech you, with a conviction firmly fixed on your mind, that you have no right to live in this world ; that, being of hale body and sound mind, you have no right to tmy earthly ^ yig,|ence, without dmifjtf '^t*fe"Wsome s( ;)y^ or j^ftTjTTi^Sr you have Wnpie fOnunH Whefebn to live clear of debt ; and, that even in that case, you have no right to "breed children, to be kept by others, or to be ex- posed to the chance of being so kept. Start with this conviction thoroughly implanted in your mind. To wish to live on the labour of others is, besides the folly of it, to contemplate a fmavd at the least, and, under certain circumstances, to meditate oppression I and robbery. 14. I suppose you in the middle rank of life. [Happiness ought to be your great object, and it is to be found only in indcjyendcnce. Turn your back on IWhitehall and on Somerset-House j leave the Cus- Itoms and Excise to the feeble and low-minded ; lool^v [not for success to favour, to partiality, to friendship,' )r to what is called interest: write it on your heart, A- v- "I "I 'I t i 1 .1 V ;f 13 COBBETT^S ADVICE [Letter that you will depend solely on your own merit and your own exertions. Think not, neither, of any of those situations, where gaudy habiliments and sound- ing titles poorly disguise from the eyes of good sense the mortifications and the heart-ache of slaves. An- swer me not by saying, that these situations '^ mtut he filled by somebody s^^ for, if I were to admit the truth of the proposition, which I do not, it would re- main for you to show, that they are conducive to happiness, the contrary of which has been proved to me by the observation of a now pretty long life. 15. Indeed, reason tells us, that it must be thus : for that which a man owes to favour or to partiality, that same favour or partiality is constantly liable to take from him. He who lives upon any thing ex- cept his own labour, is incessantly surrounded by rivals : his grand resource is that servility in which he is always liable to be surpassed. He is in dally danger of being out-bidden ; his very bread depends upon caprice ; and he lives in a state of uncertainty and never-ceasing fear. His is not, indeed, the dog's life, " hunger and idleness j" but it is worse ; for it is " idleness with slavery,''* the latter being the just price of the former. Slaves frequently are well /erf and well clad^; but, slaves dare not speak; they dare not be suspected to think differently from their masters : hate his acts as much as they may ; be he tyrant, be he drunkard, be he fool, or be he all three at once, they must be silent, or, nine times out of ten, affect approbation : though possessing a thou- sand times his knowledge, they must feign a convic- tion of his superior understanding ; though know- ing that it is they, who, in fact, do all that he is paid for doing, it is destruction to them to seem as if they thorught any portion of the service belonged to them ! Far from me be the thought, that any youth who shall read this page would not rather perish than submit to live in a state like this ! Such a state is fit only for the refuse of nature ; the halt, the half- blind, the unhappy creatures whom nature has marked out for degradation. J •■■Ta*sj< J] r '.TO A VOUTH. 13 16. And how comes it, then, that we see hale and even clever youths vi titarily bending their necks to this slavery ; nay, i cssing forward in eager rival- ship to assume the yoke that ought to be insupport- able ? The cause, and the only cause, is, that the deleterious fashion of the day has created so many artificial wants, and has raised the minds of young men so much above their real rank and state of life, that they look scornfully on the employment, the fare, and the dress that would become them ; and, in order to avoid that state in which they might live free and happy, they become showy slaves. 17. The great source of independence, the French express in a precept of three words, " Vivre de jjew," which I have always very much admired. " To live upon little^- is the great security against slavery ; and this precept extends to dress and other things besides food and drink. When Doctor Johnson wrote his dictionary, he put in the word pensioner thus : " Pensioner — ^1 slave ofstate?^ After this he himself became a pensioner ! And, thus, agreeably to his own definition, he lived and died " a slave oj state /" What must this man of great genius, and of great industry too, have felt at receiving this pen- sion ! Could he be so callous as not to feel a pang upon seeing his own name placed before his own degrading definition ? And, what could induce him to-submit to this ? His wants, his artificial wants, his habit of indulging in the pleasures of the table ; his disregard of the precept " Vivre de peu.^'* This was the cause ; and, be it observed, that indulgences of thigi sort, while they tend to make men poor and expose them to commit mean acts, tend also to en- feeble the body, and more especially to cloud and to weaken the mind. 18. When this celebrated author wrote his dic- tionary, he had not been debased by luxurious en- joyments ; the rich and powerful had not caressed him into a slave ; his writings then bore the stamp of truth and independence : but, having been debased by luxury, he who had, while content with plain 2 I 1 14 COBBETT*S ADVICE [Letter fare, been the strenuous advocate of the rights of the people, became a strenuous advocate for taxatmv^ without representation ; and, in a work under the title of " Taxation no l^yranny,^^ defended, and greatly assisted to produce, that unjust and bloody war which finally severed from England that great coun- try, the United States of America, now the most powerful and dangerous rival that this kingdom ever had. The statue of Dr. Johnson was the first that was put into St. Paul's Church ! A signal warning to us not to look upon monuments in honour of the dead as a proof of their virtues ; for here we see St. Paul's Church holding up to the veneration of poste- rity a man whose own vn.'itings, together with the records of the pension list, prove him to have been " a slave of state." 19. Endless are the instances of men of bright parts and high spirit having been, by degrees, render- ed powerless and despicable, by their imagiiiary wantF. Seldom has there been a man with a fairer prospect of accomplishing great things and of ac- quiring lasting renown, than Charles Fox : he had great talents of the most popular sort ; the times were singularly favourable to an exertion of them with success ; a large part of the nation admired him and were his partizans ; he had, as to the great question between him and his rival (Pitt,) reason and justice clearly on his side ; but he had against him his squandering and luxurious habits : these made him dependent on the rich part of his partizans; made his wisdom subservient to opulent folly or sel- fishness ; deprived his country of all the benefit that it might have derived from his talents ; and, finally, sent him to the grave without a single sigh from a people, a great part of whom would, in his earlier years, have wept at his death as at a national calamity. 20. Extravagance in dress, in the hauntinjr of play-houses^ in horses, in every thing else, is to be avoided, and, in youths and young men, extrava- gance in dj-ess particularly. This sort of extrava- gance, this waste of money on the docoTfttion of the I.J to A f OtJtft. 10 body, arises solel y from vanity, and from vanity of the most contemptible sort. It arises from tlie notion, that all the people in the street, for instance, will be looking at you as soon as you walk out ; and that they will, in a greater or less degree, think the better of you on account of your fine dress. Never was notion more false. All the sensible people, that hap- pen to see you, will think nothing at all about you : those who are filled with the same vain notion as you are, will perceive your attempt to impose on them, and will despise you accordingly : rich people will wholly disregard you, and you will be envied and hated by those who have the same vanity that you have without the means of gratifying it. Dress should be suited to your rank and station ; a sur- geon or physician should not dress like a carpenter ! but, there is no reason why a tradesman, a mer- chant's clerk, or clerk of any kind, or why a shop- keeper, or manufacturer, or even a merchant ; no reason at all why any of these should dress in an ejcpensive manner. It is a great mistake to suppose, that they derive any advantage from exterior decoration. Men are estimated by other inen according to their capacity and willingness to be in some way or other useful ; and, though, with the foolish and vain part of womerij fine clothes fre- quently do something, yet the greater part of the sex are much too penetrating to draw their conclu- sions solely from the outside show of a man : they look deeper, and find other criterions whereby to judge. And, after all, if the fine clothes obtain you a wife, will they bring you, in that wife, frugality, good sense, and that sort of attachment that is likely to be lasting ? Natural beauty of person is quite another thing : this always has, it always will and must have, some weight even with men, and great weight witli women. But, this does not want to be set off by expensive clothes. Female eyes are, in such cases, very sharp ; they can discover beauty though half hidden by beard, and even by dirt, and surrounded by rags : and, take this as a secret worth 1 •*» I. y 16 oobbett's advice [Letter half a fortune to you, that women, however person- ally vain they may be themselves, despise personal vanity in men, 21. Let your dress be as cheap as may be without shahbiness ; think more about the colour of your shirt than about the gloss or texture of your coat ; be always as clean as your occupation will, without inconvenience, permit; but never, no, not for one mo- ment, believe, that any human being, with sense in skull, will love or respect you on account of your fine or costly clothes. \. A. great misfortung^f the present LdajUMbM. ^very one is, ijrKi|''owirestimate, radsied \ tthmnp. Ida rpnl state ^f life J every one seems to think IJTf ilui to tftle and great estate, at least to live without wor-k. This mischievous, this most de- structive way of thinking, has, indeed, been produced, like almost all our other evils, by the Acts of our Septennial and Unreformed Parliament. That body, by its Acts, has caused an enormous Debt to be created, and, in consequence, a prodigious sum to be raised annually in taxes. It has caused, by these means, a race of loan-mongers and stock-jobbers to arise. These carry on a species of gaming, by which some make fortunes in a day, and others, in a day, become beggars. The unfortunate gamesters, like the pur- chasers of blanks in a Lottery, are never heard of; but the fortunate ones become companions for lords, and some of them lords themselves. We have, with- in these few years, seen many of these gamesters get fortunes of a quarter of a million in a few days, and then we have heard them, though notoriously amongst the lowest and basest of human creatures, called *' Jwnourable gentlemen.^\f In such a state of things, who is to expect patient industry, laborious study frugality, and care ; who, in such a state of things, is to expect these to be employed in pursuit of that competence which it is the laudable wish of all men to secure ? Not long ago a man, who had served his time to a tradesman in London, became, instead of pursuing his trade, a stock-jobber, or gambler ; and, in about two years^ drove his coach and/our , had his tj TO A yoirm. f» town house and country house, and visited, and was visited by, feers of the highest rank! XfelUyw-ap- prentice of this lucky gambler, though a tradesman \\\ excellent business, seeing no earthly reason why he should not have his coach and four also, turned his stock in trade into a stake for the 'Change ; but, alas ! at the end of a few months, instead of being in a coach and four, he was in the Gazette ! 22. This is one instance out of hundreds of thou- sands ; not, indeed, exactly of the same description, but all arising from the same copious source. The words speculate and speculation have been substituted for gamble and g-amblin^. The hatefulness of the pursuit is thus taken away ; and, while taxes to the amount of more than double the whole of the rental of the kingdom ; while these cause such crowds of idlers, every one of whom calls himself affentleman, and avoids the appearance of working for his bread ; while this is the case, who is to wonder, that a great part of the youth of the country, knowing themselves to be as ffood, as learned, and as well bred as these gentlemen : who is to wonder, that they think, that they also ought to be considered as gentlemen? Then, the late war, Talso the work of the Septenni- al Parliament,) has left us, amongst its many lega- cies, such swarms of titled men and women ; such swarms of " Sirs^^ and their " Ladies ;" men and woTmen who, only the other day, were the fel- low-apprentices, fellow-trradesmen's or farmers' sons and daughters, or, indeed, the fellow-servants, of those who are now in these several states of life ; the late Septennial Parliament war has left us such swarms of these, that it is no wonder that the heads of young people are turned, and that they are asha- med of that state of life to act their part well in ^which ought to be their delight. 23. But, though the cause of the evil is in Acts of the Septennial Parliament ; though th is ^^pivfiraal .desire ia^pfio ple to ^e^t^iQught tQj^e-abe¥e4hei r sta- tionj though this arises Trom such acts; and, ~ ^ ** "i it is no wonder that your»g men are thus t ■[ uch a irents, e sup- an he . laridof lotion, )t is a [on la- jnty a ume- mise- isoiie idmen imsell lagrees with Cervantes ; for, Mad Tom, in King Lear, being asked who he is, answers, " I am a taSov' run mad with pride." How many have we heard of, who claimed relationship with nohlemenond king's ; while of not a few each has thought himself the Son of God ! To the public journals, and to the observa- tions of every one, nay, to the " county-lunatic aay^ lums" (things never heard of in England till now,) I appeal for the fact of the vast and hideous increase of madness in this country; and, within these very iew years, how many scores of young men, who, if their minds had been unperverted by the gambling principles of the day, had a probably long and hap- py life before them ; who had talent, personal en- dowments, love of parents, love of friends, admira- tion of large circles ; who had, in short, every thing to make life desirable, and. wbo,-4yom mortified to their own, cxiatim e er - *" 24. As to Drunkenness and Gluttony, generally so called, these are vices so nasty and beastly that I deem any one capable of indulging in them to be wholly unworthy of my advice ; and, if any youth, unhappily initiated in these odious and debasing vices, should happen to read what I am now writing, I refer him to the command of God, conveyed to thfl Israelites by Moses, in Deuteronomy, chapter xxi. The father and mother are to take the bad son "and bring him to the elders of the city ; and they shall say to the elders, this our son will not obey our voice : he is a glutton and a drunkard. And all the men of the city shall stone him with stones, that he die." I refer downright beastly gluttons and drunk- ards to this ; but indulgence short, far shorty of this gross and really nasty drunkenness and gluttony is to be deprecated, and that, too, with the more earn- estness because it is too often looked upon as being no crime at all, and as having nothing blameable in it : nay, there are many persons, who pride them- selves on their refined taste in matters connected with eating and drinking: so far from being asham- ■1- i;: i. bl ■• III 20 OOBBETT'9 ADVICE [Letter ed of employing their thoughts on the subject, it is their boast that tliey do it. St. Gregory, one of the Christian fathers, says: "It is not the quantity or the quality of the meat, or drink, but the lave of it that is condemned :" that is to say, the indulgence beyond the absolute demands of nature ; the hankering after it ; the neglect of some duty or other for the sake of the enjoyments of the table. 25. This Uwe of what are called " good eating and drinking," if very unamiable in grown-up persons, is perfectly hateful in a youth ; and, if he indulge in the propensity, he is already half ruined. 'I'o warn you against acts of fraud, robbery, and vio- lence, is not my province ; that is the business of those who make and administer the law. I am not talking to you against acts which the jailor and the hangman punish ; nor against those moral offences which all men condemn ; but against indulgences, which, by men in general, are deemed not only harmless, but meritorious ; but which the observa- tion of my whole life has taught me to regard as de- structive to human happiness ; and against which all ought to be cautioned even in their boyish days. I have been a great observer, and I can truly say, that I have never known a man, " fond of good eat- ing and drinking," as it is called ; that I have never known such a man (and hundreds I have known) who was worthy of respect. 26. Such indulgences are, in the first place, very cvpemive. The materials are costly, and the pre- parations still more so. What a monstrous thing, that, in order to satisfy the appetite of a man, there must be a person or two at work every day ! More fuel, culinary implements, kitchen-room : what ! all these merely to tickle the palate of four or five peo- ple, and especially people who can hardly pay their way ! And, then, the loss of time: the time spent in pleasing the palate: it is truly horrible to behold people, who ought to be at work, sitting, at the tjiree meals, not less than three of the about fourteen hours that they are out x)f their beds ! j^ youth, habitual- I] TO A YOUTH. 21 ed to this sort of indulgence, cannot be valuable to any employer. Such a youth cannot be deprived of his table enjoyments on any account : his eating and drinking form the momentous concern of his life : if business interfere with that, the business must give way. A young man, some years ago, offered himself to me, on a particular occasion, as an ama- nnensis, for whicli he appeared to be perfectly quali- fied. The terms were settled, and I, who wanted the job dispatched, requested him to sit down, and begin ; but he, looking out of the window, whence he could see the church clock, said, somewhat hasti- ly, " I cannot stop nmc, sir, I must go to dinner?'^ " Oh !" said I, " you must go to dinner, must you ! Let the dinner, which you must wait upon to-day, have your constant services, then j for you and 1 shall never agree." He had told me that he was in great distress for want of employment ; and yet, when relief was there before his eyes, he could fore- go it for the sake of getting at his eating and drink- ing three or four hours, perhaps, sooner than I should have thought it right for him to leave off work. Such a person cannot be sent from home, except at c^tain times ; he must be near the kitchen at three fixed hours of the day : if he be absent more than four or five hours, he is ill-treated. In short, a youth thus pampered is worth nothing as a person to be employed in business. 27. And, as \o friends and acquaintances; they will say nothing to you ; they will offer you indul- gences under their roofs ; but, the more ready you are to accept of their offers, and, in fact, the better taste you discover, the less they will like you, and the sooner they will find means of shaking you off; for, besides the cost which you occasion them, peo- ple do not like to have critics sitting in judgment on their bottles and dishes. Water-drinkers are universally laughed at ; but, it has always seemed to me, that they are amongst the most welcome of guests, and that, too, though the host be by no means of a niggardly turn. The tnith is, they give I ■i r •I :i 22 oobbett's ADvicn [Lottcr ii! I w nil no trmthh ; they occasion no anxiety to please tliem ; they are sure not to make their sittings inconvenient^ ly long ; and, which is the great thing of all, their example teaclies moderation to the rest of the com- pany. Your notorious " lovers of good cheer" are, on the contrary, not to be invited without due reflec- tion: to entertain one of them is a serious business; and as people are not apt voluntarily to undertake sucli pieces of business, the well-known " lovers of good eating and drinking" are left, very generally, to enjoy it by themselves and at their own expense. 28. But, all other considerations aside, health., the most valuable of all earthly possessions, and without which all the rest are worth notbing, bids us, not only to refrain from excess in eating and drinking, but bids us to stop short of what might be indulged in without any apparent impropriety. The words of EccLEsiASTicus ouglit to be read once a week by every young person in the world, and particularly by the young people of this country at this time. " Eat modestly that which is set before thee, and de- vour not, lest thou be hated. When thou sittest amongst many, reach not thine hand out first of all. How little is sufficient for man well taught ! A whole- some sleep Cometh of a temperate belly. Such a man ri^th up in the mornings and is well at ea.tp with himself. Be not too hasty of meats ; for excess of meats bringeth sickness, and choleric disease Cometh of gluttony. By surfeit have man3'^ perish- ed, and he that dieteth Jdmself prolongetJi his life. Show not thy valiantness in wine; for wine halli destroyed many. Wine measurably taken, and in season, bringeth gladness and cheerfulness of mind ; but drinking with excess maketh bitterness of mind, brawlings and scoldings." How true are these words ! How well worthy of a constant place in our memo- ries ! Yet, what pains have been taken to apoloj^jse for a life contrary to these precepts ! And, good God ! what punishment can be too great, what mark of infamy sufficiently signal, for those pernicious vil- lains of talent, who have employed that talent in the ■ b I Ij TO A YOUTH, S3 composition of Bacchanalian som^a ; that is to say, pieces of fine and captivating writing in praise of one of the moat odious and destructive vices in the black catalogue of human depravity ! 29. In the passage which f have just quoted from chap. xxxi. of Ecclesiasticus, it is said, tliiit "wine, iiieasureably taken, and in season," is a prope?' thhiff. This, and other such passages of the Old Testament, liave given a handle to drunkards, and to extrava- gant people, to insist, that God intended that wine should be commonly drunk. No doubt of that. But, then, he could intend this only in countries in which lie had given wine, and to which he had given no cheaper drink except water. If it be said, as it truly may, that, by the means of the sea and the winds, lie has given wine to all countries, I answer that this gift is of no use to us now, because our government steps in between the sea and the winds and us. For- 'inctiy, indeed, the case was different : and, here I am about to give you, incidentally, a piece of historical knowledge, which you will not have acquired from Hume, Goldsmith, or any other of the romancers called historians. Before that unfortunate event, the Protestant Reformation, as it is called, took place, the price of red wine, in England, was foiiV' pence a gallon, Winchester measure; and, of white wine, sixpence a gallon. At the same time the pay of a^ labouring man per day, as fixed by law, was foufpence. Now, when a labouring man could earn four quarts of good wine in a day, it was, doubtless, allowable, even in England, for people in the middle rank of life to drink wine rather commonly ; and, therefore, in those happy days of England, these passages of Scripture were applicable enough. But, now when we have got a Protestant government, which by the taxes which it makes people pay to it, causes the eighth part of a gallon of wine to cost more than the pay of a labouring man for a day ; now, this passage of Scripture is not applicable to us. There is no ^^season^^ in which wo can take wine without ruining ourselvcSj however " measiir- A I* IP- 24 cobbett's advicb [Letter I III! M cMif^ we may take it , and, I beg you to regard, as perverters of Scripture and as seducers of youth, all those who cite passages like that above cited, in jus- tification of, or as an apology for, the practice of wine drinking in England. 30. I beseech you to look again and again at, and to remember every word of, the passage which I have just quoted from the book of Ecclesiasticus. How completely have been, and are, its words verifi- ed by my experience and in my person ! How little of eating and drinking is sufficient for me ! How wholesome is my sleep ! How early do I rise ; and how '''"well at ease*^ am I "with myself!" I should not have deserved such blessings, if I had withheld from my neighbours a knowledge of the means by which they were obtained ; and, therefore, this know- ledge I have been in the constant habit of communi- cating. When one g'ives a dinner to a company^ it is an extraordinary affair, and is intended, by sensi- ble men, for purposes other than those of eating and drinking. But, in general^ in the every-day life, despicable are those who suffer any part of their happiness to depend upon what they have to eat or to drink, provided they have a siifficiency of whole- some food ; despicable is the 7«a«, and worse than despicable the youth^ that would make any sacrifice, however small, whether of money, or of time, or of any thing else, in order to secure a dinner different from that which he would have had without such sacrifice. Who, what man, ever performed a great- er quantity of labour than I have performed ? What man ever did so much ? Now, in a great measure I owe my capability to perform this labour to my dis- regard of dainties. Being shut up two years in Newgate, with a fine on my head of a thousand pounds to the king, for having expressed my indig- nation at the flogging of Englishmen under a guard of German bayonets, I ate, during one whole year, one mutton chop every day. Being once in town, with one son (then a little boy) and a clerk, while my family was in the country^ I had during some weeks mutto: ed; tl I have procee day the day ex necessi tain th{ life, spt Ue^ incl I take c wholesc by Chan aside, oi to gathe is, to eat He that and he tl 31. Be drinking selves fr( slop-ketth such sla\ slops are (having i habits of even tlies cieiit to g since had assert, thi two of 1 whether u whatever ever, at pi , ihe great c [fi'ovi youi your pf)we) be, and fro pose you t useful man I I] TO A YOUtH. 25 weeks, nothing but legs of mutton ; first day. leg of mutton boiled or roasted ; second, cold; third, hashr ed ; then, leg of mutton boiled ; and so on. When I have been by myself, or nearly so, I have cdwaya proceeded thus : given directions for having every day the same thills', or alternately as above, and every day exactly at the same hour, so as to prevent the necessity of any talk about the matter. I am cer- tain that, upon an average, I have not, during my life, spent more than thirty-Jive minutes a day at ta- ble, including all the meals of the day. I like, and I take care to have, good and clean victuals ; but, if wholesome and clean, that is enough. If I find it, by chance, too coarse for my appetite, I put the food aside, or let somebody do it, and leave the appetite to gather keenness. But, the great security of all is, to eat little, and to drink nothing that intoxicates. He that eats till he i^fidl is little better than a beast ; and he that drinks till he is drunk is quite a beast. 31. Before I dismiss this affair of eating and drinking, let me beseech you to resolve to free your- selves from the slavery of the tea and coffee and other slop-kettle, if, unhappily, you have been bred up in such slavery. Experience has taught me, that those slops are injurious to health ; until I left them off (having taken to them at the age of 26,) even my habits of sobriety, moderate eating, ep/rly rising ; even these were not, until I left off the slops, suffi- ciefit to give me that complete health which I have since had. I pretend not to be a " doctor j" but, I assert, that to pour regularly, every day, a pint or two of warm liquid matter down the throat, whether under the name of tea, coffee, soup, grog, or whatever else, is greatly injurious to health. How- ever, at present, what I have to represent to you is thef^reat deduction,which iJie tise of these slops makes, \from your poicer of being useful, and also from yowx p(mer to husband your income, whatever it may be, and from whatever source arising. I am to sup- pose you to be desirous to become a clever, and a useful man j a man to be, if not admired and revered, a ■A 26 ^ COBBErr*S ADVICE [Letter III at least to be respected. In order to merit respect beyond that which is due to very common men, you must do something more than very common men ; and I am now going to show you how your course must be impeded by the use of the slops. 32. If the women exclaim, " Nonsense ! come and take a cup," take it for that once ; but, hear what I have to say. In answer to my representa- tion regarding the waste of time which is occasioned by the slops, it has been said, that let what may be the nature of the food, there must be time for taking it. Not so much time, however, to eat a bit of meat or cheese or butter with a bit of bread. But, these may be eaten in a shop, a warehouse, a factory, far from rniy Jire, and even in a carriage on the road. The slops absolutely demandj^re and a co'iigregatimi ; so that, be your business what it may ; be you shop- keeper, farmer, drover, sportsman, traveller, to the slop-board you must come ; you must wait for its assembling, or start from home without your break- fast ; and, being used to the warm liquid, you feel out of order for the want of it. If the slops were in fashion amongst ploughmen and carters, we must all be starved ; for the food could never be raised. The mechanics are half-ruined by them. Many of them are become poor, enervated creatures ; and chiefly from this cause. But is the positive cost nothing ? At boarding-schools, an additional price is given on account of the tea slops. Suppose you to be a clerk, in hired lodgings, and going to your counting-house at nine o'clock. You get your din- ner, perhaps, near to the scene of your work ; but how are you to have the breakfast slops without a servant ? Perhaps you find a lodging just to suit you, but the house is occupied by people who keep no ser- vants, and you want a servant to liffht a fire and get the slop ready. You could get this lodging for several shillings a week less than another at ihv. next door ; but ihei'e they keep a servant, who will " d,'t'^ you your breakfast," and preserve yon, licnevo lent creature as she is, from the cruel necessity of ! ;! road. ition; shop- to the or its )reak- u feel ere in must aiscd. iny of and cost price e you your ir din- ; but out a Ityou, lo ser- [id get S fgowns and clippers could have very little else to do. These things are very suitable to those who have had for- luneg gained for them by others : very suitable to those who have nothing to do, and who merely live for the purpose of assisting to consume the produce )f the earth ; but, he who has his bread to earn, or /ho means to be worthy of respect on account of lis labours, has no business with morning gown ind slippers. In short, be vour business or calling ^hat it may, dress at once tor the day ; and learn to |lo it a^ quickly as possibfe. A looking-glass is a )lece of furniture a great deal worse than useless. "jookivg at the face will not alter its shape or its Nour ; and, perhaps, of all wasted time, none is so )olishly wasted as that which is employed in sur- veying one's own face. Nothing can be of Uttle im- •i: ■'i ■» ■m cobbett's advice mm I'i! li!' i in i !i-l!' [Letter 1 /.] portance, if one be compelled to attend to it every day of our lives: if we shaved but once a year, or once a month, the execution of the thing would be hardly worth naming : but, this is a piece of work that must be done once every day ; and, as it may cost only about Jive minutes of time, and may be, and frequently is, made to cost thirty^ or even fifty winutes; and, as only fifteen minutes make about a fifty-eighth part of the hours of our average day- light ; this being the case, this is a matter of real importance. I once heard Sir John Sinclair ask Mr. Cochrane Johnstone, whether he mcaned to have a son of his (then a little boy) taught Latin ? " No," said Mr. Johnstone, " but I mean to do some- thing a great deal better for him." " What is that?" said Sir John. "Why," said the other, " teach him to shave with cold watei^ and without a gla^s.^^ Which, I dare say, he did ; and, for which benefit, I am sure that son has had good reason to be grateful. Only think of the inconvenience attending the common practice! There must be hot water; to have this there must heafi>re, and, in some cases, a fire for that purpose alone ; to have these, there must bo a servant, or you must light a fire yourself. For the want of these, the job is put off un,i! a later hour: this causes a stripping ond anotJier dressing bottt ; or, you go in a slovenly state all that day, and the next day the thing must be done, or cleanliness must be abandoned altogether. If you be on a journey you must wait the pleasure of the servants at the mn before you can dress and set out in the morning; the pleasant time for travelling is gone before yoii can move from the spot ; instead of being at the end of your day's journey in good time, you are benight- ed, and have to endure all the great inconveniences attendant on tardy movements. And, all this, from the apparently insignificant affair of shaving ! How many a piece of important business has failed from a short delay ! And how many thousand of siicli delays daily proceed from this unworthy cause' " Tofujoiirs pret'*'* was the motto of a famous Frciicli I] J^ TO A VOUTH. 3d may ay i>p, 11 ffly ooul a e day- of real iiR ask ned to Latin 1 ) some- 1 thatT' '! ich him Wliich, am Bure . Only ;ommon ive this fire fbr^ ist be a For the Thoiir: ig" hold ; and they !ss m\ist general ; and, pray, let it be yours : be " always ready i^"* and never, during your whole life, have to say, *' I cannot go till I be shaved and di'essed.'''' Do the whole at once for the day, whatever may be your state of life ; and then you have a day unbroken by those indispensable performances. Begin thus, in the days of your youth, aftd, having felt the supe- riority which this practice will give you over those in all other respects your equals, the practice will stick by you to the end of your life. Till you be shaved and dressed for the day, you cannot set stea- |dily about any business; you know that you must presently quit your labour to return to the dressing i affair ; you, therefore, put it off until that be over ; the interval, the precious interval, is spent in loung- [ing about; and, by the time that you are ready for [business, the best part of the day is gone, \ 39. Trifling as this matter appears upon naming \ It, it is, in fact, one of the great concerns of life ; and, for my part, I can truly say, that 1 owe more of my jreat labours to my strict adherence to the precepts \ [liat I have here given you, than to all the natural \ bilities with which I have been endowed ; for these, hatcver may have been their amount, would have een of comparatively little use, even aided by great briety and abstinence, if I had not, in early life, ntracted the blessed habit of husbanding well my mc.^ To this, more than to any other thing, I owed y very extraordinary promotion in the army. I as always ready: if I had to mount guard at ten, was ready at nine: never did any man, or any ing, wait one moment for me. Being, at an age nder twenty years, raised from Corporal to Sergeant "ajor at once, over the heads of thirty sergeants, I aturally should have been an object of envy and atred ; but this habit of early rising and of rigid Ihcrence to the precepts which I have given you, ^ally subdued those passions ; because every one lit, tliat what I did he had never done, and never uld do. Before my promotion, a clerk was want- to mak« out the morniag report of the regiment. ■J: ■*1 9i COBBETT^S ADVICE [Letter '.f nil il pi iiMir.i ill ■ II:! 1 l! liH III i iiiiii I; ■ I ',i;i !!. i-li i l!il!i:| I rendered the clerk unnecesspry ; and, long before any other man was dressed for the parade, my work for the morning was all done, and I myself was on the parade, walking, in fine weather, for an hour perhaps. My custom was this : to get up, in sum- mer, at day-light, and in winter at four o'clock; shave, dress, even to the putting of my sword-belt over my shoulder, and having my sword lying on the table before me, ready to hang by my side. Then I ate a bit of cheese, or pork, and bread. Then I prepared my report, which was filled up as fast as the companies brought me in the materials. After this I had an hour or two to read, before the time came fo^ any duty out of doors, unless when the regiment or part of it went out to exercise in the morning. When this was the case, and the matter was left to me, I always had it on the ground in such time as that the bayonets glistened in the ri- sing' sun, a sight which gave me delight, of which I often think, but which I should in vain endeavour to describe. If the officers were to go out, eight or ten o'clock was the hour, sweating the men in the heat of the day, breaking in upon the time for cooking their dinner, putting all things out of order, and all men out of humour. When I was commander, the men had a long day of leisure before them : they could ramble into the town or into the woods ; go to get raspberries, to catch birds, to catch fish, or to pursue any other recreation, and such of them as chose, and were qualified, to work at their trades. So that here, arising solely from the early habits of one very young man, were pleasant and happy days given to hundreds. 40. Money is said to be power, which is, in some cases, true ; and the same may be said of knowledge; but superior sobriety, industry and activity, are a still more certain source of power ; for without these, knowledge is of little use; and, as to the power which moiiey gives, it is that of brute force, it is the power of the bludgeon and the bayonet, and of the bribed press, tongue and pen. Superior sobriety,] industi moden becaus( drunke fore th whose i whose ( mediate ter of p ought t( we may even dig the care have res you mo active th you live, 41. As exclusive but, edm speak of famous F ter entitli Hon oflh both ian; Neither h things tai means /a part4)f u{ are not t< cannot m; or becaus marks wh very lean what the them com required o own calliii of life yoij be your fir a new-tui 1] TO A YOUTH. 87 lefore work as on hour sum- !lock; •d-belt ng on Then 'hen 1 fast as After istime an the in the niatter )und in the ri- which I ,vour to t or ten le heat ooking and all der, the _ they )ds; go , or to lem as trades, abits of )y days industry, activity, though accompanied with but a moderate portion of knowledge, command respect, because they have great and visible influence. The drunken, the lazy, and the inert, stand abashed be- fore the sober and the active. Besides, all those whose interests are at stake prefer, of necessity, those whose exertions produce the greatest and most im- molate and visible cffc ct. Self-interest is no respec- ter of persons : it asks, not who knows best what ouglit to be done, but who is most likely to do it : we may, and often do, admire the talents of lazy and even dissipated men, but we do not trust them with the care of our interests. If, therefore, you would have respect and influence in the circle in which you move, bo nilore sober, more industrious, more si active than the general run of those amongst whom you live. 41. As to Education, this word is now applied exclusively to things which are taught iu schools ; but, education means rearviff up, and the French speak of the education of pi^s and sheep. In a very famous French book on rural affjiirs, there Is a Chap- ter entitled " Education du cochon ;" that is, educa- ticm of the Ivoff. The word has the same meaning in both languages ; for, both take it from the Latin. Neither is the word learning properly confined to things taught in schools, or by books ; for, lcarnit)i^- means knowledge; and, but a comparatively small partjof useful knowledge comes from books. Men are not to be called ii^noranl merely because they cannot make upon paper rcrtain marks with a pen, or because they do not know the meaning of such marks when made by othtns. A ploughman may be very learned in his line, though he docs not know what the letters j). I. o. u.£^. h mean when he sees them combined upon paper. The first thing to be required of a man is, tliat he understand well his own calling, or prrfesaion ; and, be you in what state of life you may, to acquh*e this knowledge ought to be your first and greatest care. A man who has had a new-built house tumble down, will derive little 4 'I :i 1 ■:i ( 38 cobbett's advice [Letter ■■|:''i •ill jjlil;!!!!'! Ill' II" :'! ' ""llllllll il'!|i „. .1 ii-i; , ■ ill:!::' i IfH Hill': tiK^rS consolation from being told that the architect is a great astronomer, thaii this distressed nation now derives from being assured that its distresses arise from the measures of a long list of the greatest orators and greatest heroes that the world ever be- held. 42. Nevertheless, book-learning is by no means to be despised ; and it is a thing which maybe laudably sought after by persons in all states of life. In those pursuits which are called professio7hs, it is necessary, and also, in certain trades; and, in persons in the middle ranks of life, a total absence of such learning is somewhat disgraceful. There is, however, one danger to b« carefully guarded against ; namely, the opinion, that your ^jiius, or your literary acquire- ments, are such as to warrant you in disregarding the calling in which you are, and by which you gain your bread. Parents must have an uncommon por- tion of solid sense to counterbalance their natural affection sufficiently to make them competent judges in such a case. Friends are partial ; and those who are not, you deem enemies. Stick, therefore, to the shop ; rely upon your mercantile or mechanical or professional calling ; try your strength in literature, if you like ; but, j'dy on the shop. If Bloomfield, who wrote a poem called the Farmer's Boy, had placed no reliance on the faithless muses, his unfor- tunate and much to be pitied family would, in all probability, have not been in a state to solicit relief from charity. I remember that this loyal shoema- ker was flattered to the skies, and (ominous sign, if he had understood it) feasted at the tables of some of the great. Have, I beseech you, no hope of this sort : and, if yon find it creeping towards your heart, drive it instantly away as the mortal foe of your independence and your peace. 43. With this precaution, however, book-learning is not only proper, but highly commendable ; and portions of it are absolutely necessary in every case of tra'e or profession. One of these portions is dis- tinct reading, plain and neat writing, mx^arnthmelic, i f i I] TO A YOUTH, 39 'ssary, in the *" is (lis- hnieiic. The two former are mere child's work ; the latter not quite so easily acquired, but equally indispen- sable, and of it you ought to have a thorough know- ledge before you attempt to study even the gram- mar of your own language. Arithmetic is soon learn ed j it is not a thing that requires much natural ta- lent; it is not a thing that loads the memory or puzzles the mind ; and, it is a thing of every-day utility. Therefore, this is, to a certain extent, an absolute necessary; an indispensable acquisition. Every man is not to be a surveyor or an actuary; and, therefore, you may stop far short of the know- ledge, of this sort, which is demanded by these pro- fessions ; but, as far as common accounts and calcu- lations go, you ought to be perfect ; and this you may make yourself, without any assistance from a mps- ter, by bestowing upon this science, during six months, only one half of the time that is, by per- sons of your age, usually wasted over the tea-slops, or other kettle-slops, alone ! If you become fond of this science, there may be a little danger of wasting your time on it. When, therefore, you have got as much of it as your business or profession can possibly render necessary, turn the time to some other purpose. As to hooks^ on this subject, they are in every body's hand ; but, there is one hook on the subject of calculations, which I must point out to you ; " The Camrist,'* by Dr. Kelly. This is a bad4itle, because, to men in general, it gives no idea of what the book treats of. It is a book, which shows the value of the several pieces of money of one country when stated in the money of another coun- try. For instance, it tells us what a Spanish Dollar, a butch Dollar, a French Franc, and so on, is worth in English money. It does the same with regard to imf^hts and measures: and it extends its information to all tlie countries in the world. It is a work of rare merit ; and every youth, be his state of life what it may, if it permit him to pursue book-learning of any sort, and particularly if he be destined, or at all like- ly to meddle with commercial matters, ought, as soon ■?" ■'I ■I h H 1 II '■ 40 oobbbtt's advice^ [Letter' ti I !^:;:iii 111! ' hiJ!!';; m Ill as convenient, to possess this valuable and instruc- tive book. 44. The next thing is the Grammar of your own language. Without understanding this, you can never hope to become fit for any thing beyond mere trade or agriculture. It is true, that we do (God knows !) but too often see men have great wealth, high titles, and boundless power heaped upon them, who can hardly write ten lines together correctly ; but, remember, it is not merit that has been the cause of their advancement ; the cause has been, in almost every such case, the subserviency of the party to the will of some government, and the baseness of some nation who have quietly submitted to be governed by brazen fools. Do not you imagine, that you will have luck of this sort : do not you hope to be re- warded and honoured for that ignorance which shall prove a scourge to your country, and which will earn you the curses of the children yet unborn. Rely you upon your merit, and upon nothing else. Without a knowledge of grammar, it is impossible for you to write correctly, and, it is by mere accident if you speak correctly ; and, pray bear in mind, that all well-informed persons judge of a man's mind (until they have other means of judging) by his writing or speaking. The labour necessary to acquire this knowledge is, indeed, not trifling : grammar is not, like arithmetic, a science consisting of several dis- tinct departments, some of which may be dispensed with: it is a whole, and the whole must be learned, or, no part is learned. The subject is abstruse 4 it demands much reflection and much patience : but, when once the task is performed, it is performed /or life, and in every day of that life it will be found to be, in a greater or less degree, a source of pleasure or of profit or of both together. And, what is the labour ? It consists of no bodily exertion ; it exposes the student to no cold, no hunger, no suffer- ings of any sort. The study need subtract from the hours of no business, nor, indeed, from the hours ©f neowwary exercise : the hours usually spent on I the tea accomj year, e would rest of study i stances a privat edge of seat to a bit of and the my life, in v/mte ing-ligh of that, without ] accompli tliere be i ed with room or she n of ] tion of f< I had no and I had laughing, naif a sc( that, too, control. ^ to give, n( farthing v as I am n( The whol( market, w member, s after all a Friday, m: which I hi rinff in tl clothes at 1 to endure ] 1.1 TO A YOUTH. 4x 41 the tea aud coffee slops and inth ^ mere gossip wliicli accompany them ; those wasted hours of only one year^ employed in the study of English grammar, would make you a correct speaker and writer for the rest of your life. You want no school, no room to study in, no expenses, and no troublesome circum- stances of any sort. I learned grammar when I was a private soldier on the pay of sixpence a day. The edge of my berth, or that of the guard-bed, was my seat to study in ; my knapsack was my book-case ; a bit of board, lying on my lap, was my writing-table; and the task did not demand any thing like a year of my life. I had no money to purchase candle or oil ; in winter-time it was rarely that I could get any even- ing light but that of the fire, and only my turn even of that. And, if I, under such circumstances, and without parent or friend to advise or encourage me, accomplished this undertaking, what excuse can there be for any youth, however poor, however press- ed with business, or however circumstanced as to room or other conveniences ? To buy a pen or a she ft of paper I was compelled to forego some por- tion of food, though in a state of half starvation ; I had no moment of time that I could call my own ; and I had to read and to write amidst the talking, laughing, singing, whistling and brawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless of men, and that, too, in the hours of their freedom from all control. Think not lightly of the farthing that I had to give, now and then, for ink, pen, or paper ! That farthing was, alas ! a great sum, to me ! I was as tall as I am now ; I had great health and great exercise. The whole of the money, not expended for us at market, was two-pence a week for each man. I re- member, and well I may ! that, upon one occasion I, after all absolutely necessary expenses, had, on a Friday, made shift to have a half-penny in reserve, which I had destined for the purchase of a red-her- rmg in the morning; but, when I pulled off my clothes at night, so hungry then as to be hardly able to endure life, I found that I had lost my halffcnny! 4* (''! r 4 f^ 1: . ■■* ■u) ii ,4 I.- v.. I ■ % cobdett's advice ; ratter ii I III ii ■';vl iilii) '■lip ' m 4Si \m 'X I >!.''' I!* ill ! , I burled my head under the miserable sheet and rug, and cried like a child ! And, again I say, if I, under circumstances hke these, could encounter and over- come this task, is there, can there be, in the whole world, a youth to find an excuse for the non-per- formance ? What youth, who shall read this, will not be ashamed to say, that he is not able to find time and opportunity for this most essential of all the branches of book-learning ? 45. I press this matter with such earnestness, be- cause a knowledge of grammar is the foundation of all literature ; and because without this knowledge opportunities for writing and speaking are only oc- casions for men to display their unfitness to write and speak. How many false pretenders to erudition have I exposed to shame merely by my knowledge of grammar ! How many of the insolent and igno- rant great and powerful have I pulled down and made little and despicable! And, with what ease have I conveyed upon numerous important subjects, information and instruction to millions now alive, and provided a store of both for millions yet unborn ! As to the course to be pursued in this great under- taking, it is, first, to read the grammar from the first word to the last, very attentively, several times over ; then, to copy the whole of it very correctly and neatly ; and then to study the Chapters one by one. And what does this reading and writing require as to time ? Both together not more than the tea-slops and their gossips for three months ! There are about three hundred pages in my English Grammar. Four of those little pages in a day, which is a mere trifle of work, do the thing in three wxmths. Two hours a day are quite sufficient for the purpose ; and these may, in any town that I have ever known, or in any village, be taken from that part of the morning du- ring which the main part of the people are in bed. I do not like the evening-candle-light work : it wears the eyes much more than the same sort of light in the morning, because then the faculties are in vigour and wholly unexhausted. But for this purpose there rareness * I.] ^' '-; ' TO A YOUTH. . * ' 43 is sufficient of that day-light which is usually wast- ed ; usually gossipped or lounged away ; or spent in some other manner productive of no pleasure, and generally producing pain in the end. It is very becoming in all persons, and particularly in the young, to be civil and even polite : but, it becomes neither young nor old to have an everlasting simper on their faces, and their bodies sawing in an ever- lasting bow:UndJiQa:,BMiny have lj§§n (wh9j|jaiSi.M 'I a tenth partojLthe time that Jhsy^ have^constittieijjii \^earningmeial£iamt(E^^ wouH-hayjgLlaui-ihfi^nndation of sincere-respegj.. towards. thfiuaXor the^jiafejajCJM^ 46. Perseverdi^eXs^a. prime quality in every pur- suit, and particularly in this. Yours is, too, the time of life to acquire this inestimable habit. Men fail much oftener from want of perseverance than from want of talent and of good disposition : as the race was not to the hare but to the tortoise ; so the meed of success in study is to him who is not in haste, but to him who proceeds with a steady and even step. li is not to a want of taste or of desire or of disposition to learn that we have to ascribe the rareness of good scholars, so much as to the want of patient perseverance. Grammar is a branch of knowledge, like all other things of high value, it is of difficult acquirement: the study is dry; the sub- ject is intricate ; it engages not the passions ; and, if thc^^rgai end be not kept constantly in view j if you lose, for a moment, sight of the am/ple reward, in- difference begins, that is followed by weariness, and disgust and despair close the book. To guard against this result be not in haste; keep steadily on; and, when you find weariness approaching, rouse youiv- self, and remember, that, if you give up, all that you have done has been done in vain. This is a matter of great moment; for out of every ten, who under- take this task, there are, perhaps, nine who abandon It in despair ; and this, too, merely for the want of resolution to overcome the first approaches of wea- :\ii 11 t. in mi"' 44 OOBBETTS ADVICE rl'v . I liii mm Dim I MWW'V WmW i hi ,1 ■! ' M.v! :m ; l;i'i I i .; II! 1 1 iliiiiH I!! ' i [Letter m i,j riness. The most effectual means of security against this mortifying result is to lay down a rule to write or to read a certain fixed quantity every day, Sunday excepted. Our minds are not always in the same state ; they have not, at all times, the same elastici- ty ; to-day we are full of hope on the very same grounds, which, to-morrow, afford us no hope at all: every human being is liable to those flows and ebbs of the mind ; but, if reason interfere, and bid you overcome the Jits of lassitude, and almost me- chanically to go on without the stimulus of hope, the buoyant fit speedil)'^ returns; you congratulate yourself that you did not yield to the temptation to abandon your pursuit, and you proceed with more vigour than ever. Five or six triumphs over temp- tation to indolence or despair lay the foundation of certain success ; and, what is of still more impor- tance, fix in you the habit ofper'severance. 47. If I have bestowed a large portion of my space on this topic, it has been because I know, from ex- I)erience as well as from observation, that it is of more importance than all the other branches of book- learning put together. It gives you, when you pos- sess it thoroughly, a real and practical superiority over the far greater part of men. How often did I experience this even long before I became what is called an author ! The Adjutant, under whom it was my duty to act when I was a Sergeant Major, was, as almost all military oflScers are, or, at least were, a very illiterate man, perceiving that every sentence of mine was in the same form and manner as sentences in print, became shy of letting me see pieces of his writing. The writing of (yrders, and other things, therefore, fell to me ; and thus, though no nominal addition was made to my pay, and no nominal addition to my authority, I acquired the lat- ter as effectually as if a law had been passed to con- fer it upon me. In short, I owe to the possession of this branch of knowledge every thing that has enabled me to do so many things that very few other men have done^ and that now gives me a degree of V*: etier I] TO A TOUTH. 46 ainst Arrite nday same stici- same ,. pe at s and A bid t me- hope, ilulale , tioii to \ I more ' tenip- tion of impor- y space ■om ex- it is of ff y)ook- »u pos- iriority i XI did I hat is hom it Major, lat least every lamier e see ''s, and Jthougli land no Ithelat- to con- session lat has other free of influence, such as is possessed by few others, in the most weighty concerns of the country. The pos- session of this branch of knowledge raises you in your own esteem, gives just confidence in yourself, and prevents you from being the willing slave of the rich and the titled part of thecommunity. It enables you to discover that riches and titles do not confer merit ; you think comparatively little of them ; and, as far as relates to you, at any rate, their insolence is innoxious. 48. Hoping that I have said enough to induce you to set resolutely about the study o{ grammar, I might here leave the subject of learning ; arithme- tic and grammar, both well learned, being as much as I would wish in a mere youth. But these need not occupy the whole of your spare time ; and, there are other branches of learning which ought imme- diately to follow. If your own calling or profession require book-study, books treating of that are to be preferred to all others; for, the first thing, the first I object in life, is to secure the honest means of ob- Itaining sustenance, raiment, and a state of being suitable to your rank, be that rank what it may ; ex- [cellence in your own calling is, therefore, the first thing to be aimed at. After this may come general ^mmioledge, and of this, the first is a thorough know- ledge of your own country ; for, how ridiculous is it to see an English youth engaged in reading about the customs of the Chinese, or of the Hindoos, while lie is content to be totally ignorant of those of Kent )r of Cornwall ! Well employed he must be in as- certaining how Greece was divided and how the Ro- lans parcelled out their territory, while he knows lot, and, apparently, does not want to know, how Ingland came to be divided into counties, hundreds, ►arishes and tithings. 49. Geography npturally follows Grammar ; and, rou should begin with that of this kingdom, which JQW ought to understand well, [perfectly well, before rou venture to look abroad. A rather slight know- edge of the divisions and customs of other countries . \ t : Tl' 1 •i ■ * ■A f> i I 1' \ m 'I u 46 COBBETT*S ADVICE I Letter i: '!" i ■ ,1 ' ''Mi ml ' 1 'liilii ! I ' Is, generally speaking, sufficient ; but, not to know these full well, as far as relates to our own country, is, in one who pretends to be a gentleman or a scho- lar, somewhat disgraceful. Yet, how many men are there, and those called gentlemen too, who seem to think that counties and parishes, and churches and parsons, and tithes and glebes, and manors and courts-leet, and 'paupers and poor-houses, all grew up in England, or dropped down upon it, immedi- ately after Noah's flood ! Surely, it is necessary for every man, having any pretensions to scholarship, to know how tJiese tlmigs came ; and, the sooner this knowledge is acquired the better ; for, until it be acquired you read the history of your country in vain. Indeed, to communicate this knowledge is one main part of the business of history ; but it is a part which no historian, commonly so called, has, that I know of, ever yet performed, except, in part, myself, in the History of the Protestant Refor- mation. I had read Hume's History of England and the Continuation by Smollett ; but, in 1802, when I wanted to write on the subject of the non-residence j of the clergy, I found, to my great mortification, that j i knew nothing of the foundation of the office and the claims of the parsons, and that I could not even guess at the origin of parishes. This gave anew turn to my inquiries ; and I soon found the roman- cers, called historians, had given me no information that I could rely on, and, besides, had done, appa- rently, all they could to keep me in the dark. 50. Wlien you come to History, begin also with that of your own country ; and here it is my bouiii den duty to put you well mi your guard ; for, in tliis ' respect we are peculiarly imforixmviie, and for llie following reasons, to which I beg you to attend. Three hundred years ago, the religion of England had been, during nine hundred years, the Oatliolio religion : the Catholic Clergy possessed about a third part of all the lands and houses, which they held/« trust for their own support, for the building and re^ pairing of churches^ and for the relief of the poor, 1 the wid( time jus changed of the c own 'pro building of the p( ed partly ih^ most series of day to thi was for \ that, befot the most i with his fc I yrinting \ I little und( change to former tin I sides, even [ed with g j change an land the e Icalled, hav [have been i Iboth at the i I, ii, ■r ) J Lnow ntry, scho- mave em to ' !S and i and grew imedi- iry for irship, or this il it be iitry in ;dge is tt it is [jd, has, in part, Refor- and and J, when on, that fice and lOt even a new voman- \ matioii P, appa-; Iso witlii ly bouii- 1 [-, inthis' for llie, attend.! England ?.alholio It a third held in mid )'c le poor, r] TO A YOUTH. 47 the widow, the orphan and the stranger; but, at the time just mentioned, the king and the aristocracy changed the rehgion to Protestant^ took the estates of the church and the poor to themselves as their own property^ and tooled the people ai large for the buildmg and repairing of churches -xud for the relief of the poor. This great and terriOie change, effect- ed partly by force against the people and partly by the most artful means of deception, gave rise to a series of efforts, which has been continued from that day to this J to cause us all to believe, th^t that change was for t/ie better, that it was for owr good; and tiiat, before that time, our forefathers were a set of the most miserable slaves that the sun ever warmed with his beams. It happened, too, that the art of printing was not discovered, or, at least, it was very little understood, until about the time when this j change took place; so that the books relating to j former times were confined to manuscript ; and, be- I sides, even these manuscript libraries were destroy- ied with great care by those who had made the change and had grasped the property of the poor and the church. Our " //i«iorta?is," as they are Icalled, have written under fear of the powerful, or [have been bribed by them ; and, generally speaking, |both at the same time ; and, accordingly, their works ire, as far^as they relate to former times, masses of lies unmatched by any others that the world has jver seen. 51." The great object of these lies always has been lo make the main body of the people believe, that the nation is now more happy, more populous, more jowerful, tJian it was before it was Protestant, and iiiereby to induce us to conclude, that it was a good l/iM^ for us that the aristocracy should take to pieiiiselves the property of the poor and the church, Mid make the people at large pay taxes for the sup- wH of both. This has been, and still is, the great ^bject of all those heaps of lies ; and those lies are piiliruially spread about amongst us in all forms of Hiblicalion, from heavy folios down to half-penny J*??* I* ■0 A,-ij|V*' ■■•>■ ■* '^i Wi^.' ['i- lip: 'i- n iiiiii Hi m MA w I ■ ;i 11 llllil il!> ;|iil'i|| wwimwi |l < III 'i i ii *m II •■4b 48 oobbbtt's advice ' tracts. In refutation of those lies we have only vjry few and rare ancient books to refer to, and their in- formation is incidental, seeing that their authors never dreamed of the possibility of the lying gene- rations which were to come. We have the ancient acts of parliament, the common-law, the customs, the canons of the church, and tfw churches them- selves ; but these demand analyses and argument^ and they demand also a really free press^ and un- prejudiced and patient 7'eadcrs. Never in this world, before, had truth to struggle with so many and such great disadvantages ! 52. To refute lies is not, at present, my business ; but it is my business to give you, in as small a com pass as possible, one striking proof that they are lies ; and, thereby, to put you well upon your guard for the whole of the rest of your life. The opinion sedulously inculcated by these " historians'*^ is this; that before the Protestant times came, England was, comparatively, an insignificant country, haviftw few people in it, and those few wretchedly poor and misc.- 7'able. Now, take the following undeniable facts. All the parishes in England are now (except where they have been united, and two, three, or four, luive been made into one) in point of size, what they were a thousand years ago. The county of Norfolk is the best cultivated of any one in England. Thih county has m/u? 731 parishes; and the number \va> formerly greater. Of these parishes, 22 have im- no churches at all ; 74 contain less than 100 soul? each : and 268 have no pa7'sonage-hmcses. Nov, observe, every parish had, in old times, a church and a parsonage-house. The county contains 2,0{>^ square miles ; that is to say, something less than 3 square miles to each parish, and that is 1,920 statute acres of land ; and the size of each parish is, on nii average, that of a piece of ground about one niilr and a half each way ; so that the churches are, evni now, on an average, only about a wile and a Jwij from each other. Now, the qurslions for jou to put loyoursdl' are these; Were churches fornuTly built Letter rviiry eir in- Lithors gene- ncient stoms, them- umeni^ lid un- world, id such sincss ; acom- ley are r guard opinion is this; nd was, hi |3 66. As it may be your lot (such has been mine) to live by your literary talent, I will, here, before I proceed to matter more applicable to persons in other states of life, observe, that 1 cannot form an idea of a mortal more wretched than a man of real talent, compelled to curb his genius, and to submit himself in the exercise of that genius, to those whom he knows to be far inferior to himself, and whom he must despise froir '^-^ bottom of his soul. The late Mr. William Gi >k who was the son of a shoe- maker at Ashbukio.> ill Devonshire; who was put to school and sent to the university at the expense of a generous and good clergyman of the name of CooKsoN, and wlio died, the other day, a sort of whipper-in of Murray's Quarterly Review ; this was a man of real genius j and, to my certain perso- nal knowledge, he detested, from the bottom of his soul, the whole of the paper-money and borough- mongering system, and despised those by whom the system was carried on. But he had imaginary wants ; he had been bred up in company with the rich and the extravagant : expensive indulgences had been made necessary to him by habit; and when, in the year 1798, or thereabouts, he had to choose between a bit of bacon, a scrag of mutton, and a lodging at ten shillings a week, on the one side, and made-dishes, wine, a fine house, and a foot- man, on the other side, he chose the latter. He became the servile Editor of Canning's Anti-jacobin newspaper ; and he, who had more wit and learning than all the rest of the writers put together, became the miserable tool in circulating their attacks upon every thing that was hostile to a system which he deplored and detested. But he secured the made- dishes, the wine, the footman and the coachman. A sinecure as " clerk of the Foreign Estreats,''^ gave him 329/ a year, a double commissionership of the lottery gave him 600Z or 700Z more ; and, at a later period, his Editorship of the Quarterly Review gave him perhaps as much more. He rolled in his car- riage for several years ; he fared sumptuously, he was 'J: 1 Hi pjijil M ^ll i t ■ I i I* p I ilWiiii lllli I, ll'ili W P'll! H m I III II I tm ! I iiiih! 52 OOBBDTT'a ADVICE buried at Westminster Abbeys of which his friend and formerly his brother pamphleteer in defence of Pitt was the Dean : and never is he to be heard of more ! Mr. GiPFORD would have been full as happy, his health would have been better, his life longer, and his name would have lived for ages, if he could have turned to the bit of bacon and scrag of mutton in 1798 ; for his learning and talents were such, his reasonings so clear and conclusive, and his wit so pointed and keen, that his writings must have been generally read, must have been of long duration ; and indeed must have enabled him (he being always a single man) to live in his latter days in as good style as that which he procured by becoming a sinecurist, a pensioner, and a hack, all which he was from the moment he lent himself to the Quarterly Review. Think of the mortification of such a man, when he was called upon to justify the power-of-imprison- ment bill in 1817! But, to go into particulars would be tedious : his life was a life of luxurious misery, than which a worse is not to be imagined. .. 67. So that poverty is, except where there is an actual want of food and raiment, a thing much more imaginary than real. The shame of poverty^ the shame of being thought poor, is a great and fatal weakness, though arising in this country, from the fashion of the times themselves. "When a good many as in the phraseology of the city, means a 7Hch man, we are not to wonder that every one wishes to be thought richer than he is. When adulation is sure to follow wealth, and when contempt would be awarded to many if they were not wealthy, who are spoken of with deference, and even lauded to the skies, because their riches are great and notorious ; when this is the case, we are not to be surprised that men are ashamed to be thought to be poor. This is one of the greatest of all the dangers at the outset ol life : it has brought thousands and hundreds of thou- sands to ruin, even to pecuniary ruin. One of the most amiable features in the character of American society is this ; that men never boast of their rich i % i Letter ri] TO A YOUNG MAN. 53 id and f Pitt more I health name Lurned 8 ; for ngsso jd and lerally indeed single :yle as irist, a )m the Review. , when prison- ticulars Kurious fined. : e is an h more /y, the fatal om the a good a rich shes to ation is ould be vho are to the t)rious ; ed that sis one itset ol )f thou- of the nerican ir rich ■i es, and never disguise their poverty ; but they talk of both as of any other matter fit for public con- versation. No man shuns another because he is poor : no man is preferred to another because he is rich. In hundreds and hundreds of instan- ces, men, not w^orth a shilling, have been chosen by the people, and entrusted Vi^ith their rights and inte- rests, in preference to men who ride in their carriages. 58. This shame of being thought poor is not only dishonourable ia^itself, and fatally injurious to vr in of talent ; but it is ruinous even in ^pecuniary point of view, and equally destructive to larmers, traders, and even gen tlemen of landed estate. It leads to ever- lasting efforts to disguise one's poverty : the carriage, the servants, the wine, (O, that fatal wine !) the spirits, the decanters, the glasses, all the table apparatus, the dress, the horses, the dinners, the parties, all must be kept up ; not so much because he or she or who keeps or gives them, has any pleasure arising therefrom, as because not to keep and give them, would give rise to a suspicion of the want of means so to give and keep ; and thus thousands upon thousands are year- ly brought into a state of real poverty by their great anxiety not to he thovght poor. Look round you, mark well what you behold, and say if this be not the case. In how many instances have you seen most amiable and even most industrious families brought to ruin by nothing but this ! Mark it well : resolve to set thla false shame at defiance, and when you have done that, you have laid the first stone of the surest foundation of your future tranquillity of mind. There are thousands of families, at this very mo- ment, who are thus struggling to keep up appear- ances. The farmers accommodate themselves to circumstances more easily than tradesmen and professional men. They live at a greater dis- tance from their neighbours : they can change their style of living unperceived ; they can banish the decanter, change the dishes for a bit of bacon, make a treat out of a rasher and eggs, and the world is uone the wiser all the while. But the tradesman, the i I A t ■■'.■* 1 '.'I rMiti Ill" r >i m 'ill ll V' . :'l' ',l|k ill 1' ^ ' '!'i! I II ^iui^l .i!ii: ;^ ■ ! Pi 54 COBBETT*S ADVICE [Letter doctor, the attorney, and the trader, cannot make the change so quietly and unseen. The accursed wine, which is a sort of criterion of the style ot living, a sort of scale to the plan, a sort of key to the Utne ; this is the thing to banish first of all ; because all the rest follow, and come down to their proper level in a short time. The accursed decanter cries footman or waiting maid, puts bells to the side ot the wall, screams aloud for carpets ; and when I am asked, "Lord, what is a glass of wine ?" my an- swer is, that in this country, it is every thing ; it is the pitcher of the key ; it demands all the othei unnecessary expenses ; it is injurious to health, and must be injurious, every bottle of wine that is drunk containing a certain portion of ardent spirits, be- sides other drugs, deleterious in their nature ; and, of all the friends to the doctors, this fashionable beverage is the greatest. And, which adds greatly to the folly, or, I should say, the real vice in using it, is, that the parties themselves, nine times out oi ten, do not drink it by c/wice; do not like it ; do not relish it ; but use it from mere ostentation, being ashamed to be seen even by their own servants, not to drink wine. At the very moment I am writing this, there are thousands of families in and near London, who daily have wine upon their tables, and who drink it too, merely because their own servants should not suspect them to be poor, and not deem them to be genteel ; and thus families by thousands are ruined, only because they are ashamed to be thought poor. 59. There is no shame belonging to poverty, which frequently arises from the virtues of the impoverish ed parties. Not so frequently, indeed, as from vice, folly, and indiscretion; but still very frequently. And as the Scripture tells us, that we are not to "de- spise the poor became he is poor ;" so we ought not to honour the rich because he is rich. The true way is, to take a fair survey of the character of a man as depicted in his conduct, and to respect him, or de- | spise him, according to a due estimate of that charac ' U.J TO A YOUNG MAN. 55 icause )roper • cries ide ot hen I fiy an- ; it is othei' ,h, and drunk its, be- i; and, Lonable ' greatly 1 using out 01 do not , being its, not S writing A near es, and ervants >t deem msands to be , wbich )verish m vice, uently. to"de- ght not ue way man as , or de- cliarac u ter. No country upon earth exhibits so many, as this, of those fatal terminations of life, called suicides. These arise, in nine instances out of ten, from this very source. The victims are, in general, what may be fairly called insane ; but their insanity almost al- ways arises from the dread of poverty ; not from the dread of a want of the means of sustaining life, or even decent living, but from the dread of being ^j thought or known to be poor ; from the dread of I what is called falling in the scale of society ; a dread which is prevalent hardly in any country but this. Looked at in its true light, what is there in poverty to make a man take away his own life ? he is the same man that he was before : he has the same body and the same mind : if he even foresee a great alter- ation in his dress or his diet, why should he kill him- self on that account ? Are these all the things that a man wishes to live for ? But, such is the fact ; so great is the disgrace upon this country, and so nu- merous and terrible are the evils arising from this dread of boircr thought to be poor. 60. Nevtni '^ -^s, men ought to take care of their means, ough' tv. i;3e them prudently and sparingly, and to keep tiieir expenses always within the bounds of their income, be it what it may. One of the ef- fectual means of doing this, is, to purchase with ready money. St. Paul says, " Otoe no man any thing :^'^ and of his numerous precepts this is by no means the least worthy of our attention. Credit has been boasted of as a very fine thing : to decry credit seems to be setting oneself up against the opinions of the whole world ; and I remember a paper in the Freeholder or the Spectator, published just after the funding system had begun, representing " Public Credit" as a Goddess, enthroned in a temple dedi- cated to her by her votaries, amongst whom she is dispensing blessings of every description. It must be more than forty years since I read this paper, which I read soon after the time when the late Mr. Pitt uttered in Parliament an expression of his anxious hope, that his '< name would be inscribed on * \^\H \ I :| ■ik i |4» j 56 COBBETT'S ADVICE iiyi! ill 11!^ iniilil' ;::i 1:M- li;!' ■'I'l; ^ili il !:i:i " the m4)imment which he should raise to public credity Time has taught me, that Public Credit means, the contracting of debts which a nation never can pay ; and I have lived to see this Goddess pro- duce effects in my country, which Satan himself ne- ver could have produced. It is a very bewitching goddess ; and not less fatal in her influence in private than in public affairs. It has been carried in this lat- ter respect to such a pitch, that scarcely any trans- action, however low and inconsiderable in amount, takes place in any other way. There is a trade in London, called the " Tally-trade," by which, house- hold goods, coals, clothing, all sorts of things, are sold upon credit, the seller keeping a tally, and re- ceiving payment for the goods, little by little; so that the income and the earnings of the buyers are always anticipated; are always gone, in fact, before they come in or cire earned ; the sellers receiving, of course, a great deal more than the proper profit. 61. Without supposing you to descend to so low a grade as this, and *^ven supposing you to be lawyer, doctor, parson, or merchant; it is still the same thing, if you purchase on credit, and not perhaps, in a much less degree of disadvantage. Besides the higher price that you pay, there is the temptation to have what you really do not want. The cost seems a trifle, when you have not to pay the money until a future time. It has been observed, and very truly observed, that men used to lay out a one-pound note when they would not lay o.it a sovereign ; a con- sciousness of the intrinsic value of the things pro- duces a retentiveness in the latter case more than in the former : the sight and the touch assist the mind in forming its conclusions, and the one-pound note was parted with when the sovereign would have been kept. Far greater is the difference between credit and ready money. Innumerable things are not bought at all with ready money, which would be bought in case of trust : it is so much easier to order a thing than to pay for it. A future day ; a day of payment must come, to be sure, but that is little thought of £ \ at the til the moi question thing in< suffer a cost of t time we those sil country. 62. I J said, thai chasing transacti but these these cas bonds, an every-da butcher, excuse ca merchant changes ? told of a keep a litt answered. " count-be " take as t " ture, the " be an inl " that he ( 63. 1 be] speaking, part more C'^'se of rf butciidr, ta one hundr is to say, i will find, t 500/. besid The father and also th trust at a I 11] TO A YOUNG MAN. 57 L never s pro- ;elf ne- itching private his lat- traiis- mount, rade in house- igs, are and re- ttle; so jrers are ;, before ving, of rofit. 50 low a lawyer, e thing, )s, in a ies the iptation 5t seems Y until a truly hd note a con- gs pro- than In le mind id note ivebeen n credit thought mght in a thing ayment ught of at the time ; but if the money were to be drawn out, the moment the thing was received or offered, this question would arise, " Can Idowithmit it ?" Is this tiling indispensable ; am I compelled to have it, or, suffer a loss or injury greater in amount than the cost of the thing ? If this question were put every time we make a purchase, seldom should we hear of those suicides which are such a disgrace ^to this country. 62. I am aware, that it will be said, and very truly said, that the concerns of merchants ; that the pur- chasing of great estates, and various other great transactions, cannot be carried on in this manner ; but these are rare exceptions to the rule : even in these cases there might be much less of bills and bonds, and all the sources of litigation ; but in the every-day business of life, in transactions with the butcher, the baker, the tailor, the shoemaker, what excuse can there be for pleading the example of the merchant, who carries on his work by ships and ex- changes ? I was delighted, some time ago, by being told of a young man, who, upon being advised to keep a little account of all he received and expended, answered, "that his business was not to keep ac- " count-books : that he was sure not to make a mis- " take as to his income ; and, that as to his expendi- " ture, the little bag that held his sovereigns would " be an infallible guide, as he never bought any thing " that he did not immediately pay for." 63. 1 believe that nobody will deny, that, generally speaking, you pay for the same article a fourth part more in the case of trust than you do in the c^^se of ready money. Suppose, then, the baker, buiciier, tailor, and shoemaker, receive from you only one hundred pounds a year. Put that together ; that is to say, multiply twenty-five by twenty, and you will find, that, at the end of twenty years, you have 500/. besides the accumulating and growing interest. The fathers of the Church (I mean the ancient ones), and also the canons of the Church, forbade selling on trust at a higher price than for ready money, which i:^. ' i' .u.: i ' '^l 58 cobbett's advice fLetter ill mm il';:ii !i ll-H .1-, ■, ii -I'i'i P III t'ii : ! Ih! ; ■' li'M ■Hi r ' ' Ii I. , m 1; < Mk' Biliil'lilllli;! ifi 'I'll , M 111!': r was in efTect, to forbid trust ; and tliis, doubtless, was one of tlie great objects which those wise and pious men had in view ; for they were fathers in le- gislation and morals as well as in religion. But the doctrine of these fathers and canons no longer pre- vails ; they are set at nought by the present age, even in the countries that adhere to their religion. Addison's Goddess has prevailed over the fathers and the canons; and men not only make a difference in the price regulated by the difference in the mode of payment ; but it would be absurd to expect them to \ do otherwise. They must not only charge some- thing for the want of the use of the money ; but they must charge something additional for the risk of its loss, which may frequently arise, and most frequently does arise, from the misfortunes of those to whom they have assigned their goods on trust. The man, therefore, who purchases on trust, not only pays for the trust, but he also pays his due share of what the tradesman loses by trust ; and, af- ter all, he is not so good a customer as the man who purchases cheaply with ready money ; for there is his name indeed in the tradesman's book ; but with that name the tradesman cannot go to market to get a fresh supply. 64. Infinite are the ways in which gentlemen lose by this sort of dealing. Servants go and order, some- times, things not wanted at all ; at other times, more than is wanted ; at others, things of a higher quali- ty ; and all this would be obviated by purchasing with ready money ; for, whether through the hands of the party himself, or through those of an inferior, there would always be an actual counting out of the money ; somebody would see the thing bought and see the money paid ; and as the master would give the house-keeper or steward a bag of money at the time, he would see the money too, would set a proper value upon it, ^and would just desire to know upon what it had been expended. I 65. How is it that farmers are so exact, and show iBuch a disDosition to retrench in the article of la- wine, sug other thi making tl these. Th they give day night in taxes o it that th( seven mil and say n raised in ( therefore, in the oth but the po( lected froi hands int they are e rates, and smallest p 66. Jusi never pur make the his means addition t( the end ol more to sp in trust ;w theVhile ; papers anc putes and credit. T by no mea ney ; for, 1 gives you r ford to ha\ and I will i taste, the s horse or ar fcssion or *Mi. TO A YOUNG MAN. 59 hour, when they seem to think little, or nothing, about the sums which they pay in tax upon malt, wine, sugar, tea, soap, candles, tobacco, and various other things? You find the utmost difficulty in making them understand, that they are affected by these. The reason is, that they sec 'the money which they give to the labourer on each succeeding Satur- day night ; but they do not see that which they give ill taxes on the articles before mentioned. V/hy is it that they make such an outcry about the six or seven millions a year which are paid in poor-rates, and say not a word abov ^hr ay millions a y'«»r raised in other taxes ? 1 iie cou uer pays all ; au \ therefore, they are as much interested in the one as in the other ; and yet the farmers think of no tax but the poor tax. The reason is, that the latter is col- lected from them in money: they see it go out of their hands into the hands of another; and, therefore, they are everlastingly anxious to reduce the poor- rates, and they take care to keep them within the smallest possible bounds. 66. Just thus would it be with every man that never purchased but with ready money : he would make the amount as low as possible in proportion to his means : this care and frugality would make an addition to his means, and, therefore in the end, at the end of his life, he would have had a great deal more to spend, and still be as rich, as if he had gone intrust; while he would have lived in tranquillity all theVhile ; and would have avoided all the endless papers and writings and receipts and bills and dis- putes and law-suits inseparable from a system of credit. This is by no means a lesson oi stinginess ; by no means tends to inculcate a heaping up of mo- ney ; for, the purchasing with ready money really gives you more money to purchase with ; you can af- ford to have a greater quantity and variety of things ; and I will engage, that, if horses or servants be your taste, the saving in this way gives you an additional horse or an additional servant, if you be in any pro- fession or engaged iu any considerable trade. la • ill iff ; •'! ■■If* } !!««■ :V\> .1- , */fi« 1'^ i 1/ wmw lli|i:il! ■'''"Ill 4k ■';i • w II m 'ill;-. i'l'^ILiij, Ijii ill ' ^1 60 COBBETT S ADVICE [Letter towns, it tends to accelerate your pace along the streets; for, the temptation of the windows is answer- ed in a moment by clapping your hand upon your thigh ; and the question, " Do 1 really want that ?" is sure to occur to you immediately ; because the toucli of the money is sure to put that thought in your mind. 67. Now, supposing you to have a plenty, lo have a fortune beyond your wants, would not the money which you would save in this way, be very wctl applied in acts of real benevolence 1 Can you walk many yards in the streets ; can you ride a mile in the country ; can you go to half a dozen cottages; can you, in short, open your eyes, without seeing some human being; some one born in the same country with yourself, and who, on that account alone, has some claim upon your good wishes and your charity ; can you open your eyes without see- ing some person to whom even a small portion of your annual savings would convey gladness of heart ? Your own heart will suggest the answer ; and if there were no motive but this, what need I say more in the advice which I have here tendered to you? 68. Another great evil arising from this desire to be thought rich, or rather from the desire not to be thought poor, is the destructive thing which has been honoured by the name of " speculation f but which ought to be called Gambling. It is a purcha- sing of something which you do not want, either in j your family or in the way of ordinary trade : a I something to be sold again with a great profit ; and on the sale of which there is a considerable hazard. ; When purchases of this sort are made with ready money, they are not so offensive to reason, and not attended with such risk ; but when they are made with money borrowed for the purpose, they arc nei- ther more nor less than gambling transactions ; and they have been, in this country, a source of ruin, misery, and suicide, admitting of no adequate de- scription. I grant that this gambling has arisen TO A TOUNG MAN. Ul ■i ng the mswer- >n your lat ?" is e touch n your ;nty, lo not tlu) be very /an you e a mile 5ltages ; t seeing le same account hea and lOut sec- )rtion of Iness of answer ; ;ed I say dered to icsire to lot to be ch has m;'' but purcha- ither in rade : a ifit ; ani] hazard. ,h ready! and not ' je made arc nei- ns ; and I of ruin, uatc de- 1 .8 arisen! from the influence of the " Goddess'^ before mention- ed ; I grant that it has arisen from the facility of obtaining the fictitious means of making the purcha- ses ; and I grant that that facility has been created by the system, under the baneful influence of which we live. But it is not the less necessary that I be- seech you not to practise such gambling ; that I be- seech you, if you be engaged in it, to disentangle yourself from it as soon as you can. Your life, while you are thus engaged, is the life of a gamester ; a life of constant anxiety ; constant desire to over- reach ; constant apprehension ; general gloom, en- livened, now and then, by a gleam of hope or of success. Even that success is sure to lead to fur- ther adventures ; and, at last, a thousand to one, that your fate is that of the pitcher to the well. 69. The great temptation to this gambling is, as in the case in other gambling, the success ^ the few. As young men, who crowd to the army, in search of rank and renown, never look into the ditch that holds their slaughtered companions ; but have their eye constantly fixed on the general in chief; and as each of them belongs to the same professio7i, and is sure to be conscious that he has equal merit, every one deems himself the suitable successor of him who is surrounded with Aides-de- campy and who moves battalions and columns by his nod ; so with the rising generation of " specula- tors :" they see the great estates that have succeed- ed the pencil-box and the orange-basket ; they see those whom nature and good laws made to black shoes, sweep chimnies or the streets, rolling in car- riages, or sitting in saloons surrounded by gaudy footmen with napkins twisted round their thumbs ; I and they can see no earthly reason why they should not all do the same; forgetting the thousands and thousands, who, in making the attempt, have re- duced themselves to that beggary which, before thwr attempt, they would have regarded as a thing [wholly impossible. 70. In all situations of life, avoid the trammels of a If •-A I 4 '1 i ^4 I Jl: 62 cobbett's advice ii :• :!': Iiii !:l'''''!! 1' |i:r>i;: I I'll' !!lF: 1:1 ;i|i'^ ' I . ■;;|i II: I' ''' •! !'!i' 'I'll'; 'Ml' I i ill i i; !; ; 'liii: !'■ " 'I ,,ii I ■ . Tillll i/w law. Man's nature must be changed before law- suits will cease ; and, perhaps, it would be next to impossible to make them less frequent than they are in the present state of this country ; but though no man who has any property at all, can say that he will have nothing to do with law-suits, it is in the power of most men to avoid them, in a considerable degree. One good rule is, to have as little as possible to do with any man who is fond of law-suits ; and who, upon every slight occasion, talks of an appeal to the law. Such persons, from their frequent liti- gations, contract a habit of using the technical terms of the courts, in which they take a pride, and are, therefore, companions peculiarly disgusting to men of sense. To su(3h men a law-suit is a luxury, instead of being as it is, to men of ordinary minds, a source of anxiety and a real and substantial scourge. Such men are always of a quarrelsome disposition, and avail themselves of every opportu- nity to indulge in that which is mischievous to their neighbours. In thousands of instances men go to law for the indulgence of mere anger. The Ger- mans are said to bring spite-actions against one another ; and to harass their poorer neighbours, from motives of pure revenge. They have carried this their disposition with them to America ; for which reason no one likes to live in a German neighbourhood. 71. Before you go to law, consider well the cost; for if you win your suit and are poorer than you were before, what do you accomplish ? You only imbibe a little additional anger against your oppo- nent ; you injure him, but do harm to yourself. Better to nut up with the loss of one pound than of two, to which latter is to be added all the loss of time ; all the trouble, and all the mortification and anxiety attending a law-suit. To set an attorney lo work to worry and torment another man is a very base act ; to alarm his family as well as himself, while y(;U are silting quirtly at home. If a man owe you money which he cannot pay, why add to II] TO A YOUNG MAN. 63 . his distress without the chance of benefit to your- self? Thousands of men have injured themselves by resorting to the law ; while very few ever bet- tered themselves by it, except such resort were una- voidable. 72. Nothing is much more discreditable than what is called hard dealing. Tliey say of the Turks, that they know nothing o{lwo f vices for the same article : and that to ask an abatement of the lowest shopkeeper is to insult him. It would be well if Christians imitated Mahometans in this respect. To ask one price and take another, or to offer one price and give another, besides the loss of time that it occasions, is highly dishonourable to the parties, and especially when pushed to the extent of solemn protestations. It is in fact, a species of lying ; and it answers no one advantageous purpose to either buyer or seller. I hope that every young man, who reads this, will start in life with a resolution never to higgle and lie in dealings. There is this circum- stance in favour of the bookseller's business ; every book has its fixed price, and no one ever asks an abatement. If it were thus in all other trades, how much time would be saved, and how much immo- rality prevented ! 73. As to the spending of your time, your busi- ness or your profession is to claim the priority of every thing else. Unless that be duly attended tOy there can be no real pleasure in any other employ- ment of a portion of your time. Men, however, must have some leisure, some relaxation from busi- ness ; and in the choice of this relaxation, much of your happiness will depend. Where fields and gar- dens are at hand, they present the most rational scenes for leisure. As to company, I have said enough in the former letter to deter any young man from that of drunkards and rioting companions ; but there is such a thing as your quiet ^^ pipe-and-pot- ! companmis,^^ which are, perhaps, the most fatal of all. Nothing can be conceived more dull, more : stupid, more the contrary of edification and rational 1 i ■ ' i ■: % '4 ' :« M cobbett's advice §'[ li." I: I i.!"=!i i: .;^i. I amusement, than sitting, sotting, orer a pot and a glass, sending out smolce from the liead, and articu- lating, at intervals, nonsense about all sorts of things. Seven years' service as a galley-slave would be more bearable to a man of sense, than seven mouths' con- finemeut to society like this. Yet, such is the effect of habit, that, if a young man become a frequentei of such scenes, the idle propensity sticks to him foi life. Some companions, however, every man must have ; but these every well-behaved man will find in private houses, where famihes arc found residing, and where the suitable intercourse takes place be- tween women and men. A man that cannot pass an evening without drink merits the name of a sot. Why should there be drink for the purpose of carry- ing on conversation 1 Women stand in need of no drink to stimulate them to converse ; and I have a thousand times admired their patience in sitting quietly at their work, while their husbands are en- gaged, in the same room, with bottles and glasses before them, thinking nothing of the expense and still less of the sliame which the distinction reflects upon them. We have to thank the women for many things, and particularly for their sobriety, for fear of following their example in which men drive them from the table, as if they said to them : " You have " had enough ; food is sufficient for you ; but we " must remain to fill ourselves with drink, and to talk " in language which your ears ought not to endure." When women are getting up to retire from the table, men rise m Jtonour of them ; but, they take special care not to follow their excellent example. That which is not fit to be uttered before women is not fit to be uttered at all ; and it is next to a proclamation tolerating drunkenness and indecency, to send wo- men from the table the moment they have swallowed their food. The practice has been ascribed to a de- sire to leave them to themselves : but why should they be left to themselves ? Their conversation is always the most lively, while their persons are ge- nerally the most agreeable objects. No : theplain TO A YOUNO MAN. 65 ! <1 ; and a articu- 'things. 3e more tia' con- le effect quentei him foi m must 1 find in csiding, lace be- , pass an tf a sol. )f carry- 3d of no I have a 1 sitting are en- l glasses inse and . reflects or many )r fear of ve them ou have but we d to talk jndure." le table, special That s not fit amation end wo- allowed to a de- should ation is are ge- he plain i :; truth is, ihat it is the love of the drink and of the indecent talk that send women from the table ; and it is a practice which 1 have always abhorred. I like to see young men, especially, follow them out of the room, and prefer their company to that of the bots who are left behind. 74. Another mode of spending the leisure time is that of books. Rational and well-informed com- panions may be still more instructive ; but, books never annoy ; they cost little ; and they are always at hand, and ready at your call. The sort of books, must, in some degree, depend upon your pursuit in life; but there are some books necessary to every one who aims at the character of a well-informed man. I have slightly mentioned History and Geo- graphy in the preceding letter ; but I must here ob- serve, that, as to both these, you should begin with your own country, and make yourself well acquaint- ed, not only with its ancient state, but with the origin of all its principal institutions. To read of the bat- tles which it has fought, and of the intrigues by which one king , i, m ■! illli.i ^w mm'' ' > M\ 111 m ' -li ,''■1 ''I !■! I ''li I I'i li «> i; II : 70 cobfett's advice [Letter unfortunately for his learned brothers in the metro- polis, and unfortunately for the reputation of Shak- SPEARE, Mr. Ireland took with him to the scene of his adoration a sotij about sixteen years of age, who was articled to an attorney in London. The son was by no means so sharply bitten as the father; and, upon returning to town, he conceived the idea of supplying the place of the invaluable papers which the farm-house heathen had destroyed. He thought, and he thought rightly, that he should have little difficulty in writing plays jws^ like those of Shah speare ! To get paper that should seem to have been made in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and ink that should give to writing the appearance of having the same age, was somewhat difficult ; but both were overcome. Young Ireland was acquainted with a \ son of a bookseller, who dealt in old books : the blank " leaves of these books supplied the young author with paper : and he found out the way of making proper ink for his purpose. To work he went, wrote seve- ral plays, some love-letters, and other things ; and having got a Bible, extant in the time of Shakspeare, he wrote notes in the margin. All these, together with sonnets in abundance, and other little detached pieces, he produced to his father, telling him he got them from a gentleman, who had ma(& him swear that he would not divulge his name. The father an- nounced the invaluable discovery to the literary world : the literary world rushed to him ; the manu scripts were regarded as genuine by the most grave «nd learned Doctors, some of whom (and amongst these were Doctors Parr and Warton) gave, 2m(/tr their hands, an opinion, that the manuscripts mmi have been written by Shakspeare ; for that no other man in the world coidd have been capable oftmting them ! 78. Mr. Ireland opened a subscription, published these new and invaluable manuscripts at an enor- mous price ; and preparations were instantly made for performing one of the p/ayi», called Vorticeiw. Soon after the acting of the play, the indiscretion of i w.j TO A YOUNG MAN. 71 the lad caused the secret to explode ; and, instantly, those who had declared that he had written as well as Shakspeare, did every thing in their power to de- stray him ! The attorney drove him from his office ; the father drove him from his house; and, in short, he was hunted down as if he had been a malefactor of the worst description. The truth of this relation is undeniable ; it is recorded in numberless books. The young man is, I believe, yet alive; and, in j short, no man will question any one of the facts. 79. After this, where is the person of sense who I will be guided in these matters by fashion 7 where I is the man, who wishes not to be deluded, who will not, when he has read a book, judge for himself 7 After all these jubilees and pilgrimages ; after Boy- dkll's subscription of 500Z. for one single copy ; [after it had been deemed almost impiety to doubt of the genius of Shakspeare surpassing that of all the |rest of mankind ; after he had been called the " /m- nortal Bard^^"^ as a matter of course, as we speak of losEs and Aaron, there having been but one of each (n the world ; after all this, comes a lad of sixteen ^earsof age, writes that which learned Doctors declare jonld have been written by no man but Shakspeare, md, when it is discovered that this laughing boy is fhe real author, the Doctors turn round upon him, vith all the newspapers, magazines, and reviews, md, of course, the public at their back, revile him is an impostor ; and, under that odious name, hunt lim out of society, and doom him to starve ! This [esson, at any rate, he has given us : not to rely on ic judgment of Doctors and other pretenders to [itcrary superiority. Every young man, when he \kcs up a book for the first time, ought to reniom- |er this story ; and if he do remember it, ho wifl jisvpfTard fashion v.iHi regard to the book, and will jay little attention to the decision of those who call irmselves critics. 80. I hope that your taste would keep you aloof jroin the writings of those detestable villains, who |Tiploy the powciM of their niind in debauching tho I' > 1 t :" !i:;. r1! ■",i ^ .1' 4 : ' i I rV it 4^ '^:l « COBBETP'ti ADVICE !; '■i::lli i' ^"'!i minds of others, or in endeavours to do it. They present their poison in such captivating forms, that It requires great virtue and resolution to withstand their temptations ; and, they have, perhaps, done a thousand times as much mischief in the world as all the infidels and atheists put together. These men ought to be called literary pimps: th^y ought to be held in universal abhorrence, and never spoken of with but execration. Any appeal to bad passions is to be despised ; any appeal to ignorance and pre- judice ; but here is an appeal to the frailties of human nature, and an endeavour to make the mind corrupt, just as it is beginning to possess its powers. I have never known any but bad men, worthless men, men unworthy of any portion of respect, who took delight in, or even kept in their possession, writings of the de- scription to which I here allude. The writings of Swift have this blemish ; and, though he is not a teacher of lewdness, but rather the contrary, there are cer- tain parts of his poems which are much too filthy for any decent person to read. It was beneath him to stoop to such means of setting forth that wit which would have been far more brilliant without them. I have heard, that, in the library of what is called an " illm- trious person," sold some time ago, there was an immense collection of books of this infamous de- scription ; and from this circumstance, if from no other, I should have formed my judgment of the character of that person. 81. Besides reading, a young man ought to write, ! if he have the capacity and the leisure. If you wish || to remember a thing well, put it into writing, even if you burn the paper immediately after you have done ; for the eye greatly assists the mind. Memory consists of a concatenation of ideas, the place, the time, and other circumstances, lead to the recollec- tion of facts ; and no circumstance more effectually |] tlian stating the facts upon paper. A Journal ' should be kept by every young man. Put doM something against every day in the year, if it be | merely a description of the weather. V ou will not 'W TO A LOVER. 73 have done this for one year without finding the bene- fit ofit. It disburthens the mind of many things to be recollected ; it is amusing and useful, and ought by no meang to be neglected. How often does it hap- pen that we cannot make a statement of facts, some- times very interesting to ourselves and mir friends, for the want of a record of the places where we were, and of things that occurred on such and such a day I How often does it happen that we get into disagree- i able disputes about things that have passed, and about the time and other circumstances attending them ! As a thing of mere curiosity, it is of some value, and may frequently prove of very great utility. It demands not more than a minute in the twenty- four hours ; and that minute is most agreeably and advantageously employed. It tends greatly to pro- duce regularity in the conducting of affairs : it is a thing demanding a small portion of attention once in everyday : I myself have found it to be attended with great and numerous benefits, and I therefore strongly recommend it to the practice of every reader. LETTER III. TO A LOVER. v I)' t, ■ f Hi ii f, .A •Ji J. * I 82. There arc two descriptions of Lovers on Iwhom all advice would be wasted ; namely, those in jwhose minds passion so wholly overpowers reason IS to deprive the party of his sober senses. Few )eople are entitled to more compassion than young ueii thus alfecled : it is a species of insanity that assails them ; and, when it produces self-destruction, kvliich it docg in England more frequently than in all [he otlior countries in the world put together, the lortal remains of the sufferer ought to be dealt with 7 nr Mil "t ill"' II '[III' ! Vl m i': i;,i. i" ('i M \m4 mv. l:i m lii;!'il 74 cobbeItt's advice [Letter" in as tender a manner as that of which the most mer- ciful construction of the law will allow. If Sir Samuel Romilly's remains werojas they were,in fact,treated as those of a person labouring under " temporai'y men- ial deraiigemenij" surely the youth who destroys his life on account of unrequited love, ought to be con- sidered in as mild a light ! Sir Samuel was repre- sented, in the evidence taken before the Coroner's Jury, to have been inconsoktble for the loss of his wife ; that this loss had so dreadful an effect upon his mind, that it bereft Ziirn of his reason, made life insupportable, and led him to commit the act of stii- cide : and, on this ground alone, his remains and his estate were rescued from the awful, though just and wise, sentence of the law. But, unfortunately for the reputation of the administration of that just and wise law, there had been, only about two years be- fore, a poor man, at Manchester, buried in cross- roads, and under circumstances which entitled his remains to mercy much more clearly than in the case of Sir Samuel Romilly. 83. This unfortunate youth, whose name was Smith, and who was a shoemaker, was in love with a young woman, who, in spite of all his importuni- ties and his proofs of ardent passion, refused to marry him, and even discovered her liking for ano- ther ; and he, unable to support life, accompanied by the thought of her being in possession of any body but himself, put an end to^ his life by the means of a rope. If, in any case, we are lo presume the existence of insanity ; if, in an)r case, we are led to believe the thing without positive proof; if, in any case, there can be an apology in human nature itself, for such an act ; this was that case. "We all know (as I observed at the time ;) that is to say, all of us who cannot wait to calculate upon the gains and losses of the affair ; all of us, except those who are endowed with this provident frigidity, know well what youthful love is ; and what its torments are, w^hen accompanied by even the smallest portion of jealousy. Every man, and especially every English- I »ill!ilJL ! ji i ! mm III.] TD A LOVER. 75 I*. [ any the \ man (for here we seldom love or hate by halves,) will recollect how many mad pranks he has played ; how many wild and ridiculous things he has said and done between the age of sixteen and that of twenty-two ; how many times a kind glance has scattered all his reasoning and resolutions to the vands ; how many times a cool look has plunged him into the deepest misery ! Poor Smith who was at this age of love and madness, might, surely, be presumed to have done the deed in a moment of " temporary mental deraiig'emenV^ He was an ob- ject of compassion in every humane breast : he had parents and brethren and kindred and friends to lament his death, and to feel shame at the disgrace inflicted on his lifeless body : yet, HE was pronoun- ced to be afelo de se, or selfmurderer^ and his body was put into a hole by the way-side, with a stake driven down through it ; while that of Romilly had mercy extended to it, on the ground that the act had been occasioned by " temporary mental deraii^e- menti^^ caused by his grief for the death of his wife ! 84. To reason with passion like that of the unfor- tunate Smith, is perfectly useless ; you may, with as much chance of success, reason and remonstrate with the winds or the waves : if you make impres- sion, it lasts but for a moment : your effort, like an inadequate stoppage of waters, only adds, in the end, to the violence of the torrent ; the current must have and will have its course, be the consequences what they may. In cases not quite so decided, absence, the sight of new faces, the sound of new voices, ge- nerally serve, if not as a radical cure, as a mitigation, at least, of the disease. But, the worst of it is, that, on this point, we have the girls (and women too) against us! For they look upon it as right that every lover should be a little maddish / and, every attempt to rescue him from the thraldom imposed by their charms, they look upon as an overt act of treason against their natural sovereignty. No girl ever liked a young man less for his having done things foolish and wild and ridiculous, provided she 'i ^ tjii ' ' '« 1 76 COBBETt*S ADVICE [Letter m ^ ■<• i .'li 1 hi ;("■ '"HI'I was sure that love of her had been the cause : let her but be satisfied upon this score, and there are very few things which she will not forgive. And, though wholly unconscious of the fact, she is a great and sound philosopher after all. For, from the nature of things, the rearing of a family always has been, is, and must ever be, attended with cares and troubles, which must infallibly produce, at times, feelings to be combated and overcome by nothing short of that ardent affection which first brought the parties together. So that, talk as long as Parson Malthus likes about "moral restrai7it ;" and report as long as the Committees of Parliament piease about preventing ^^prematur'e and improvident mar- riages" amongst the labouring classes, the passion that they would restrain, while it is necessary to the existence of mankind^ is the greatest of all the compensations for the mevitable cares, troubles, hardships, and sorrows of life ; and, as to the mar- riages, if they could once be rendered universally provident, every generous sentiment would quickly be banished from the world. 85. The other description of lovers, with whom it is useless to reason, are those who love according to the rules of arithmetic, or who measure their ma- trimonial expectations by the cJiain of the land-sur- •oeyor. These are not love and marriage ; they are bargain and sale. Young men will naturally, and almost necessarily, fix their choice on young women in their own rank in life ; because from habit and intercourse they will know them best. But, if the length of the girl's purse, present or contingent, be a consideration with the man, or the length of his purse, present or contingent, be a consideration with her, it is an affair of bargain and sale. I know that kings, princes, and princesses are, in respect of mar- riage, restrained by the law ; I know that nobles, if not thus restrained by positive law, are restrained, in fact, by the very nature of their order. And here is a disadvantage which, as far as real enjoyment of life is concerned, moye than counterbalances all the i IILJ advant commi pursue proach by mai as you gar ric ration a thereb) of misf riages" themse poverty m spite conduc balance bles, an than dii that car best pos WORCES the snee a beauti the pres drive hi a source might fa to all thi the fepr humble '. t 86. If any circ it be, gei tion, oni under so sake of ought to day of y nous wo] mother, the sight IILJ TO A LOVER« 77 i». t \: advantages that they posses* over the rest of the community. This disadvantage, generally speaking, pursues rank and riches downwards, till you ap- proach very nearly to that numerous class who live by manual labour, becoming, however, less and less as you descend. You generally find even very vul- gar rich men making a sacrifice of their natural and rational taste to their mean and ridiculous pride, and thereby providing for themselves an ample supply of misery for life. By preferring ^^ provident mar- riages" to marriages of love, they think to secure themselves against all the evils of poverty; but i;f poverty come, and come it may, and frequently does, m spite of the best laid plans, and best modes of conduct; if poverty come, then where is the counter- balance for that ardent mutual affection, which trou- bles, and losses, and crosses always increase rather than diminish, and which, amidst all the calamities that can befall a man, whispers to his heart, that his best possession is still left him unimpaired ? The Worcestershire Baronet, who has had to endure the sneers of fools on account of his marriage with a beautiful and virtuous servant maid, would, were the present ruinous measures of tlie Government to drive him from his mansion to a cottage, still have a source of happiness ; while many of those, who might fall in company with him, would, in addition to all their other troubles, have, perhaps, to endure the reproaches of wives to whom poverty, or even humble lif >, would be insupportable, t 86. If i;..arrying for the sake of money be, under any circumstances, despicable, if not disgraceful ; if it be, generally speaking, a species of legal prostitu- ' tion, only a little less shameful than that which, under some governments, is openly licensed for the sake of a tax ; if this be the case generally, what ought to be said of a young man, who, in the hey- day of youth, should couple himself on to a libidi- nous woman, old enough, perhaps, to be his grand- mother, ugly as the night-mare, offensive alike to the sight and the smell, and who should pretend to 7* m r i : ^1 '4 -•■S I :|i •li- i ' HI .1 '■ 78 cobbett's advice LLetter 'I ii !■>•■ 'I m- ir ! love her too: and all this merely for the sake of hti money ? Why, it ought, and it, doubtless, would ir : said of him, that his conduct was a libel on both man and woman-kind j that his name ought, for ever, to be synonymous with baseness and nastiness, and that in no age and in no nation, not marked by a general depravity of manners, and total absence of all sense of shame, every associate, male or female, of such a man, or of his filthy mate, would be held in abhorrence. Public morality would drive such a hateful pair from society, and strict justice would hunt them from the face of the earth. 87. BuoNAPARTK could uot be said to marry for money, but his motive was little better. It was for dominion, for power, for ambition, and that, too, of the most contemptible kind. I knew an American Gentleman, with whom Buonaparte had always been a great favourite; but the moment the news arrived of his divorce and second marriage, he gave him up. This piece of grand prostitution was too much to be defended. And the truth is, that Buona- parte might have dated his decline from the day of that marriage. My American friend said, " If I had been he, I would, in the first place, have married the Soorest and prettiest girl in all France." If he had one this, he would, in all probability, have now been on an imperial throne, instead of being eaten by worms, at the bottom of a very deep hole in Saint Helena ; whence, however, his bones convey to the world the moral, that to marry for money, for ambi- tion, or from any motive other than the one pointed out by aflfection, is not the road to glory, to happi- ness, or to peace. 88. Let me now turn from these two descriptions of lovers, with whom it is useless to reason, and ad- dress myself to you, my reader, whom I suppose to be a real lover, but not so smitten as to be bereft of your reason. You should never forget, that marri- age, which is a state that every young person ought to have in view, is a thing to last far life ; and that, generally speaking, it is to make life happy or mise- J III. I I rahle; someth misery, oned ai numerc the mo panions cares, tl I say /( sioned. ; cessary judgme reason i here off of that 89. T wife are gality; fairs; 7 90. I. and eve female i young ^ ing tov men ; it eyes, or hears ai to undet pressior is a djss then, as in persi ficient t( nothing toms of selves 7 never p( deryme mean m fess thai have lil '# in. I ' • h-O A tOVER. 70 I rabki for, thougli a man may bring his mind to something nearly a state of indifference^ even that is misery, except with those who can hardly be reck- oned amongst sensitive beings. Marriage brings numerous cares^ which arc amply compensated by the more numerous delights which are their com- panions. But to have the delights, as well as the cares, the choice of the partner must be fortunate. I say fortunate ; for, after all, love, real love, impas- sioned, affection, is an ingredient so absolutely ne- cessary, that no perfect reliance can be placed on the judgment. Yet, the judgment may do something ; reason may have some influence ; and, therefore, I here offer you my advice with regard to the exercise of that reason. 89. The things which you ought to desire in a wife are, 1. Chastity ; 2. sobriety ; 3. industry ; 4. fru- gality ; 5. cleanliness ; 6. knowledge of domestic af- fairs ; 7. good temper ; 8. beauty. 90. I. Chastity, perfect modesty, in word, deed, and even thought, is so essential, that, without it, no female is fit to be a wife. It is not enough that a young woman abstain from every thing approach- ing towards indecorum in her behaviour towards men ; it is, with me, not enough that she cast down her eyes, or turn aside her head with a smile, when she hears an indelicate allusion : she ought to appear not to understand it, and to receive from it no more im- pression than if she were a post. A loose woman is & dissLgreeaihle acquaintance : what must she be, then, as a wife 7 Love is so blind, and vanity is so busy in persuading us that our own qualities will be suf- ficient to ensure fidelity, that we are very apt to think nothing, or, at any rate, very little, of trifling symp- toms of levity ; but if such symptoms show them- selves now, we may be well assured, that we shall never possess the power of eftecting a cure. If pru.- dery mean^tee modesty, it is to be despised ; but if it mean modesty pushed to the utmost extent, I con- fess that I like it. Your "free and hearty*^ girls I have liked very well to talk and laugh with j but H I 1 I ■'! it ,'; i 1; ?■„ p oobbett's advice [Letter I 'I fll ¥- l-v:::.i , '■ 'I. |:ii II !Hi! Ulii 'iiii'i ' -i never, for one moment, did it enter liito my mind that I could have endured a " free and hearty" girl for a wife. The thing is, I repeat, to last for life; it is to be a counterbalance for troubles and misfor- tunes ; and it must, therefore, be perfect, or it had better not be at all. To say that one despise* jealousy is foolish : it is a thing to be lamented ; but the very elements of it c^ight to be avoided. Gross indeed is the beast, for he is unworthy of the name of man ; nasty indeed is the wretch, who can even entertain the thought of putting himself between a pair of sheets with a wife of whose infidelity he possesses the proof ; but, in such cases, a man ought to be very slow to believe appearances; and he ought not to de- cide against his wife but upon the clearest proof. The last, and, indeed, the only effectual safeguard is, to begin well ; to make a good choice ; to let the beginning be such as to render infidelity and jealousy next to impossible. If you begin in grossness i if yoii couple yourself on to one with whom you have taken liberties, infidelity is the natural and^'t^s^ con- sequence. When the Peer of the realm, who had not been over-fortunate in his matrimonial affairs, was urging Major Cartwright to seek for nothing more than " moderate reform," the Major (forgetting the domestic circumstances of his Lordship) asked him how he should relish " moderate chastity" in a wife ! The bare use of the two words, thus coupled together, is sufficient to excite disgust. Yet with this ^^ moderate chastity" you must be, and ought to be, content, if you have entered into marriage with one, in whom you have ever discovered the slightest approach towards lewdness, either in deeds, words, or looks. To marry has been your own act ; you have made the contract for your own gratification ; you knew the character of the other party ; and the children, if any, or the community, are not to be the sufferers for your gross and corrupt passion. " Mo- derate chastity" is all that you have, in fact, con- tracted for : you have it, and you have no reason to complain. When I come to address myself to the g I i m.] husban which my oba lies are " vioder in the n 9L an abse if that man! wine, tl Whatev it is su ugliness r'atSj poi woman, chaste, i sented i1 requires dent liqi say on t" husband in need c cases of Si glass have ma] persuade of wine i such.a gi streets. way of t mind froi prettier 1 gusting a is bad eni an appeti of her li; maybe c such as r have chil where vei III.] TO A LOVER. 81 husband, I shall have to say more upon this subject, which I dismiss for the present with observing, that my observation has convinced me, that, when fami- lies are rendered unhappy from the existence of " moderate chastity," the fault, first or last, has been in the man, ninety-nine times out of every hundred. 91. Sobriety. By sobriety I do not mean merely an absence oi drinking to a state of intoxication ; for, if that be Imteful in a man, what must it be in a wo- man ! There is a Latin proverb, which says, that wine, that is to say, intoxication, brings forth truth. Whatever it may do in this way, in men, in women it is sure, unless prevented by age or by salutary ugliness, to produce a moderate, and a mnj mode- rate, portion of chastity. There never was a drunken woman, a woman who loved strong drink, who was chaste, if the opportunity of being the contrary pre- sented itself to her. There are cases where health requires wine, and even small portions of more ar- dent liquor ; but (reserving what I have farther to say on this point, till I come to the conduct of the husband) young unmarried women can seldom stand in need of these stimulants ; and, at any rate, only in cases of well-known definite ailments. Wine ! " only dL glass or two of wine at dinner, or so !" As soon as have married a girl whom I had thought liable to be persuaded to drink, habitually, " only a glass or two of wine at dinner, or soj" as soon as have married such.a girl, I would have taken a strumpet from the streets. And it has not required age to give me this way of thinking : it has always been rooted in my mind from the moment that I began to think the girls prettier than posts. There are few things so dis- gusting as a guzzling woman. A gormandizing one is bad enough; but, one who tips off the liquor with an appetite, and exclaims ^^good! good /" by a smack of her lips, is fit for nothing but a brothel. There may be cases, amongst the /tarcMabouring women, such as rrMpers, for instance, especially when they have children at the breast; there may be cases, where very /tarcZ- working women ^lay stand in need 1 !,"* 1 ,1 ■ 1;; 1 iiri t 7 ■ 1 9Pi'. ■'f 1 1 " ! ' I $v\ !■ ^r ilH;!-^.-^ ■■>'* *i 4 '^^' ^ S' k t-ij ' i * ?. : M ^w^^ COBBfiTX'S ADVICE [Letter If ■ ^J'' i'^f' I'i. %■' I .'i I':; ' !' ■!| 4' m\i of a little ^oocZ beer ; beer, which, if taken in immo- derate quantities, would produce intoxication. But, while I only allow the possibility of the existence of such cases, I deny the necessity of any strong drink at all in every other case. Yet, in this metropolis, it is the general custom for tradesmen, journeymen, and even labourers,to have regularly on their tables the big brewers' poison, twice in every day, and at the rate of not less than a pot to a person, women, as well as men, as the allowance for the day. A pot of poison a day, at five pence the pot, amounts to seven pounds ami two shillings in the year ! Man and wife suck down, in this way , fourteen pounds four shillings a year ! Is it any wonder that they are clad in rags, that they are skin and bone, and that their children are covered with filth ? 92. But by the word Sobriety, in a young wo- man, I mean a great deal more th^n even a rigid ab- stinence from that love of drink^ which I am not to suppose, and which I do not believe, to exist any thing like generally amongst the young women of this country. I mean a great deal more than this ; I mean sobriety of conduct. The word sober ^ and its derivatives, do not confine themselves to matters of 4fHnk : they express steadiness, seriousness, careful- ness, scrupidous })ropriety of conduct ; and they are thus used amongst country people in many parts of England. When a Somersetshire fellow makes too free with a girl, she reproves him with, " Come ! be sober /" And when we wish a team, or any thing, to be moved on steadily and with great care, we cry out to the carter, or other operator, " Soberly, sobei^lyy Now, this species of sobriety is a great qualification in the person you mean to make your wife. Skipping, capering, romping, rattling girls are very amusing where all costs and other conse- quences are out of the question ; and they may be- come sober in the Somersetshire sense of the word. But while you have no certainty of this, you have a presumptive argument on the other side. To be sure, when girls are mere children, they are to play \i III.] and ro] that ag sort of when 1 of a h( them t( tural, I childrei strange in chile iDoman an old qualitiei have re which, i minated part of spite of i have see have, at prise, tl: pulled m nearly f assailed fill cnen with, an cr than i requirini tal exert throughc and of 1{ of 7'eal a to me ; meaned ; than an} ways in should I «nc^, an( riches ; ? care to p tliat « sot m III.] TO A LOVER. 83 'o be play and romp like children. But, wlien they arrive at that age which turns their thoughts towards that sort of connexion which is to be theirs for life; when they begin to think of having the command of a house, however small or poor, it is time for them to cast away the levity of the child. It is na- tural, nor is it very wrong, that I know of, for children to like to gad about and to see all sorts of strange sights, though I do not approve of this even in children : but, if I could not have found a young" woman (and I am sure I never should have married an old one) who I was not sure possessed all the qualities expressed by the word sobriety, I should have remained a bachelor to the end of that life, which, in that case, would, I am satisfied, have ter- minated without my having performed a thousandth part of those labours which have been, and are, in spite of all political prejudice, the wonder of all who have seen, or heard of, them. Scores of gentlemen have, at different times, expressed to me their sur- prise, that I was " always in smrits ;" that nothing pulled me down ; and the trutn is, that, throughout nearly forty years of troubles, losses, and crosses, assailed all the while by more numerous and power- ful enemies than ever' man had before to contend with, and performing, at the same time, labours great- er than man ever before performed ; all those labours requiring mental exertion, and some of them men- tal exertion of the highest order ; the truth is, that, throughout the whole of this long time of troubles and of labours, I have never known a single hour of 7'eal anxiety ; the troubles have been no troubles to me ; I have not known what loaoness of fpirUs meaned ; have been more gay, and felt less care, than any bachelor that ever lived. " You are al- ways in spirits^ Cobbett !" To be sure ; for why should I not ? Poverty I have always set at defi- ance, and I could, therefore, defy the temptations of riches ; and, as to Jiome and children^ I had taken care to provide myself witli an inexhaustible store of that " sobrietyj''^ which I am so strongly recommend- I '; ill \ \ ■ »W ■ I 5ti(| f i-M ' t 1: I. 1^1 ^A •i w ■ ''l i iifiif'i': h- -..i SI', iil:' 84 COBBETTS ADVICE [Letter ing my reader to provide himself with ; or, if he can- not do that, to deliberate long before he ventures on the life-enduring matrimonial voyage. This sobri- ety is a title to trust-worthiness ; and this^ young man, is the treasure that you ought to prize far above all others. Miserable is the husband, who, when he crosses the threshold of his house, carries with him doubts and fears and suspicions. I do not mean suspicions of the fidelity of his wife, but of her care, frugality, attention to his interests, and to the health and morals of his children. Miserable is the man, who cannot leave all unlocked^ and who is not sure, quite certain, that all is as safe as if grasped in his own hand. He is the happy husbend, who can go away, at a moment's warning, leaving his house and his family with as little anxiety as he quits an inn, not more fearing to find, on his return, any thing wrong, than he would fear a discontinu- ance of the rising and setting of the sun, and if, as in my case, leaving books and papers all lying about at sixes and sevens, finding them arranged in pro- per order, and the room, during the lucky interval, freed from the effects of his and his ploughman's or gardener's dirty shoes. Such a man has no r'eal cares ; such a man has no troubles ; and this is the sort of life that I have led. I have had all the nume- rous and indescribable delights of home and child- ren, and, at the same time, all the bachelor's freedom from domestic cares ; and, to this cause, far more than to any other, my readers owe those labours', which I never could have performed, if even the slightest degree of want of confidence at home had ever once entered into my mind. 93. But, in order to possess this prccions trustr worthiness, you must, if you can, exercise your rear son in llu' ciioice of your partner. If she be vain of ln'V p{>rH()ii, very fond of dress, fond of Jlattcry ot all, given to ji^nddin^' about, fond of what are railed pirlivs of phui^iwc^, or coquetish, though in the least do >' uii i: 100 OOBBETl's AOTTCB [Letter a clean aktn. An English girl will hardly let her lover see the stale dirt between her fingers, as I have many times seen it between those of French women, and even ladies, of all ages. An English girl will have her face clean, to be sure, if there be soap and water within her reach ; but, get a glance, just a glance, at her pdl, if you have any doubt upon the subject ; and, if you find there, or behind the earsy what the Yorkshire people call grime, the sooner you cease your visits the better. I hope, now, that no young women will be offended at this, and think me too severe on her sex. I am only saying, I am only telling the women, that which cdl men think ,- and, it is a decided advantage to them to be fully in- formed of our thoughts on the subject. If any one, who shall read this, find, upon self-examination, that 'She is defective in this respect, there is plenty of time for correcting the defect. 113. In the dress you can, amongst rich people, find little whereon to form a judgment as to cleanli- ness, because they have not only the dress prepared for them, but put upon them into the bargain. But, in the middle rank of life, the dress is a good crite- rion in two respects: first, as to its colour; for, if the white be a sort of yellow, cleanly hands would have been at work to prevent that. A white-yeUoie cravat, or shirt, on a man, speaks, at once, the cha racter of his wife; and, be you assured, that she wil not take with your dress pains which she has nevei taken with her own. Then, the manner of putting on the dress is no bad foundation for judging. If it be careless, slovenly, if it do not fit properly. No matter for its mean quality : mean as it may be, it may be neatly and trimly put on ; and, if it be not, take care of yourself; for, as you will soon find to your cost, a sloven in one thing is a sloven in all things. The country-people judge greatly from the state of the covering of the ancles and, if that be not clean and tight, they conclude, that all out of sight is not what it ought to be. Look at the shoes! If they be trodden on one side, loose on the foot, or tetter i her have unen. rl will p and just a )ii the I ears^ sooner V, that L think r, I am think } lUy in- ly one, m, that enty o( in.] TO A LOVER. 101 run down at the heel, it is a very bad sign ; and, as to alip-^hody though at coming down in the morning and even before daylight, make up your mind to a rope, rather than to live with a slip-shod wife. 114. Oh ! how much do women lose by inatten- tion to these matters ! Men, in general, say nothing about it to their wives ; but they thiiik about it : they envy their luckier neighbours: and in numerous cases, consequences the most serious arise from this apparently trifling cause. Beauty is valuable ; it is one of the ties, and a strong tie too ; that, however, cannot last to old age; but the charm of cleanliness never ends but with life itself. I dismiss this part of my subject with a quotation from my " Year's REsroENCB IN America." containing words which I venture to recommend to every young woman to engrave on her heart ; " The sweetest flowers, when they become putrid, stink the most ; and a nasty womau is the nastiest thing in nature." 115. Knowledge op domestic Affairs. Without more or less of this knowledge, a lady, even the wife of a peer, is but a poorish thing. It was the fashion, in former times, for ladies to understand a great deal about these affairs, and it would be very hard to make me believe that this did not tend to promote the interests and honour of their husbands. The aflairs of a great family never can be well ma^ naged, if left wholly to hirelings ; and there are ma- ny parts of these affairs in which it would be un- seemly for their husbands to meddle. Surely, no lady can be too high in rank to make it proper for her to be well acquainted with the characters and general demeanour of all the ^mafe servants. To receive and give them characters is too much to be left to a servant, however good, and of service how- ever long. Much of the ease and happiness of the great and rich must depend on the character of those by whom they are served : they live under the same roof with them ; they are frequently the children of their tenants, or poorer neighbours ; the conduct of their whole lives must be influenced by the examples 9* ;v I'll e "-J 1' i rl- ■.'- I !i % 'PI ^■'fir.' li :i i-l :T »^ik ■ I ; ' I, ' ^ I iii •■* ; 1, m mi 102 COBBETT^S ADVICE LLetter and precepta which they here imbibe; and when ladies consider how much more weight there must be in one word from them than in ten thousand words from a person who, call her what you like, is still a fallow-servant, it does apponr strange that they should forego the performance of this at once im- portSht and pleasing part of their duty. It was from the mansions of noblemen and gentlemen, and not from boarding schools, tliat farmers and tradesmen formerly took their wives ; and though these days are gone, with little chance of returning, there is still something left for ladies to do in checking that torrent of immorality which is now crowding the streets with prostitutes and cramming the jails with thieves. 116. I am, however, addressing myself, in this work, to persons in the middle rank of life ; and here a knowUdge of domestic affairs is so necessary in every wife, that the lover ought to have it con- tinually in his eye. Not only a knowledge of these affairs ; not only to know how things ought he done^ but how to do tlierti ; not only to know what ingre- dients ought to be put into a pie or a pudding, but to be able to make the pie or the pudding. Young people, when l^ey come together, ought not, unless they have fortunes, or are in a great way of busi- ness, to think about servants ! Servants for what ! To help them to eat and drink and sleep ? When children come, there must be some help in a farmer's or tradesman's house, but until then, what call for a servant in a house, the master of which has to earn every mouthful that is consumed? 117. I shall, when I come to address myself to the husband, have much more to say upon this subject of keeping servants; but, what the lover, if he be not quite blind, has to look to, is, that his intended wife know hxm to do the work of a house, unless he have fortune sufficient to keep her like a lady. " Eat- ing and drinking," as I observe in Cottage Economy, came three times every day ; they must come ; and, however little we may, in the days of our health [iCtter when must usand ike, is t they ce im- s from nd not esmen e days [lere is ig that ng the Is with in this fe; and cessary it con- ■)i these he done^ ,t ingre- ing, but Young ;, unless of busi- r what ! When armer's all for a to earn If to the subject f he be ntended nless he « Eat- CONOMY, 16 ; and, health III.] TO 4 LOTER. 103 and vigour, care about choice food and about cook- ery, we very soon get tired of heavy or burnt bread and of spoiled joints of meat : we bear them for a time, or for two, perhaps ; but, about the third time, we lament inwardly ; about the fifth time, it must be an extraordinary honey-moon that will keep us from complaining : if the like continue for a imnth or two, we begin to repent ; and then adieu to all our anticipated delights. We discover, when it is too late, that we have not got a help-mate, but a burden ; and, the fire of love being damped, the unfortunate- ly educated creature, whose parents are more to blame than she is, is, unless she resolve to learn her duty, doomed to lead a life very nearly approaching to that of misery ; for, however considerate the hus- band, he never can esteem her as he would have done, had she been skilled and able in domestic af- fairs. 118. The mere manual performance of domestic labours is not, indeed, absolutely necessary in the female head of the family of professional men, such as lawyers, doctors, and parsons ; but, even here, and also in the case of great merchants and of gentle- men living on their fortunes, surely the head of the household ought to be able to give directions as to the . purchasing of meal, salting meat, making bread, making preserves of all sorts, and ought to see the things done, or that they be done. She ought to take care that food be well cooked, drink properly prepared and kept ; that there be always a sufficient supply ; that there be good living without waste ; and that in her department, nothing shall be seen in- consistent with the rank, station, and character of her husband, who, if he have a skilful and industri- ous wife, will, unless he be of a singularly foolish turn, gladly leave all these things to her absolute do- minion, controlled onlyby the extent of the whole ex- penditure, of which he must be the best, and, indeed, the sole, judge. 119, But, in a farmer's or a tradesman's family, the Tiummt performance \% absolutely necessary, .• 1 r 1 1 M ■•I "1 ■::f \a - '5 ad' I ■ ■•■ *. n P! 104 cobbett's advice (Letter I f i. . '■ ' t , . yj'n^' iiii ; !' 1 mf.M 4-'^'i ! illl' '■■'■■11 r i , I! ';■■'!' Jv; ! ' II iv ' J ll^^'^ ■•* li> ». :>i.i»'lH> i&i ij whether there be servants or not. No one knows how to teach another so well as one who has done, and can do, the thing himself. It was said of a fa- mous French commander, that, in attacking an ene- my, he did not say to his men "^o on," but " come on ;" and, whoever have well observed the move- ments of servants, must know what a prodigious dif- ference there is in the effect of the words, g-o and come. A very good rule would be, to have nothing to eat, in a farmer's or tradesman's house, that the mistresi^ did not know how to prepare and to cook j no pudding, tart, pie or cake, that she did know how to make. Never fear the toil to her : exercise is good for health j and without health there is no beauty ; a sick beauty may excite pity ; but pity is a short- lived passion. Besides, what is the labour in such a case ? And how many thousands of ladies, who loll away the day, would give half their fortunes for that sound sleep which the stirring house-wife seldom fails to enjoy. IW, Yet, if a young farmer or tradesman many a girl, who has been brought up to play music, to what is called draw, to sin^, to waste paper, pen and ink, in writing long and half romantic letterc, and to see shows, and plays, and read novels ; if a young man do marry such an unfortunate young feature, let him bear the consequences with temper; let him he just; and justice will teach him to treat her with great indulgence ; to endeavour to cause her to learn her business as a wife ; to be patient with her ; to re- flect that he has taken her, being apprised of her in- ability ; to bear in mind, that he was, or seemed to be, pleased with her showy and useless acquirements ; and that, when the gratification of his passion has been accomplished, he is unjust and cruel and un- manly, if he turn round upon her, and accuse her of a want of that knowledge, which he well knew that she did not possess. 121. For my part, I do not know, nor can I form an idea of, a more unfortunate being than a girl with a mere boarding-schopl education, and jyithout a for- iCtter nows done, a fa- ft ene- come move- lus dif- ro and othing lat the cook ; w how is good )eauty ; I short- L such a vho loll for that seldom many msic, to pen and 5rc, and , young reature, let him ler with I to learn ; to re- herin- jmed to lements; lion has landun- 36 her of lew that Iform rirl with futafor- iin TO A LOVER. 106 tune to enable her to keep a servant, when married. Ofwhatwse are her accomplishments? Of what use her music, her drawing, and her romantic epis- tles 1 If she be good in her nature, the iirst little faint cry of her first baby drives all the tunes and all the landscapes and all the Clarissa Harlowes out of her head for ever. I once saw a very striking in- stance of this sort. It was a climb-over-the-wall match, and I gave the bride away, at St. Margaret's Church, Westminster, the pair being as handsome a pair as ever I saw in my life. Beauty, however, though in double quantity, would not pay the baker and butcher ; and, after an absence of little better than a year, I found the husband in prison for debt ; but I there found also his wife, with her baby; and she, who had never, before her marriage, known what it was to get water to wash her own hands, and whose talk was all about music, and the like, was now the cheerful sustainer of her husband, and the most affectionate of mothers. All the music and all the drawings and all the plays and romances, were gone to the winds ! The husband and baby had fairly supplanted them ; and even this prison scone was a blessing, as it gave her, at this early stage, an opportunity of proving her devotion to her husband, who, though I have not seen him for about fifteen years, he being in a part of America which I could not reach when last there, has, I am sure, amply re- paid her for that devotion. They have now a nume- rous family (not less than twelve children, I believe,) and she ip . I am told, a most excellent and able mis- tress of a respectable house. 122. But, this is a rare instance : the husband, like his countrymen in general, was at once brave, hu- mane, gentle, and considerate, and the love was so sincere and ardent, on both sides, that it made losses and suflerings appear as nothing. When I, in a sort of half-whisper, asked Mrs. Dickens where her piaTio was, she smiled, and turned her face towards her ba- by, that was sitting on her knee ; as much as to say, " This little fellow has beaten the piano j" and, if r. ' 1 !».. ;| ^ ■ 1 i ,-) If-,- - ^?i f . -. . . \ ■ til' wmm\ 106 COBBETTS ADVICE I Letter I 'ii fj III W;.,;'' illl!!l:i ^S "'I ':„ I ! m m ■I'M I 1 iMi in what 1 am now writing should ever have the honour to be read by her, let it be the bearer of a renewed expression of my admiration of her conduct, and of that regard for her kind and sensible husband, which time and distance have not in the least diminished, and which will be an inmate of my heart until it shall cease to beat. 123. The like of this is, however, not to be expect- ed : no man ought to think that he has even a chance of it: besides, the husband was, in this case, a man of learning and of great natural ability : he has not had to get his bread by farming or trade ; and in all probability, his wife has had the leisure to practise those acquirements which she possessed at the time of her marriage. But, can this be the case with the farmer or the tradesman's wife ? She has to help to earn a provision for her children; or, at the least, to help to earn a store for sickness or old age. She, therefore, ought to be <][ualiiied to begin, at once, to assist her husband in his earnings : the way in which she can most efficiently assist, is by taking care of % his property ; by expending his money to the great- est advantage; by wasting nothing; by making the ta- ble sufficiently abundant with the least expense. And how is she to do these things, unless she have been brought v/p to understand domestic affairs ? How is she to do these things, if she have been taufht to think these matters beneath her study ? How is any man to expect her to do these things, if she have been so bred up as to make her habitually look upon them as worthy the attention of none but low and ignorant women ? 124. Ignorant^ indeed! Ignorance consists in a want of Knowledge of those things which your call- ing or state of life naturally supposes you to under- stand. A ; ploughman is not an ignorant man be- cause he does not know how to read : if he knows how to plough, he is not to be called an ignorant man ; but, a wife may be justly called an ignorant woman, if she does not know how to provide a din- ner for her husband. It is cold comfort for a hun- *' 'ft- - Jl ■^7 i Letter tionour 3newed and of , which nished, until it expect- i chance , a man has not id in all practise the time with the D help to least, to e. She, once, to in which [ care of ne great- igtheta- se. And ive been How is luf.ht to w is any avebeen on them 'gnorant ists in a our call- under- man be- e knows gnorant ignorant ie a din- ar a hun- III.] TO A L0VER« '107 rv aan, to tell him how delightfully his wife plays aiv bings : lovers may live on very aerial diet ; but husbands stand in need of the solids ; and young women may take my word for it, that a constantly clean board, well cooked victuals, a house in order, and a cheerful fire, will do more in preserving a husband's heart, than all the ^^ dccoinplishmenisj^* taught in all the " establi^hments^^ in the world. 125. Good Temper. This is a very difficult thing to ascertain beforehand. Smiles are so cheap ; they are so easily put on for the occasion ; and, besides, the frowns are, according to the lover's whim, inter- preted into the contrary. By '•'■good iempa^,''^ I do not mean easy temper, a serenity which nothing dis- turbs, for that is a mark of laziness. Shdkiness, if you be not too blind to perceive it, is a temper to be avoided by all means. A sulky man is bad enough ; what, then, must be a sulky woman, and that wo- man a wife ; a constant inmate, a companion day and night ! Only think of the delight of sitting at the same table, and sleeping in the same bed, for a week, and not exchange a word all the while ! Very bad to be scolding for such a length of time; but this is far better than the sulks. If you have your eyes, and look sharp, you will discover symptoms of this, if it unhappily exist. She will, at some time or other, show it towards some one or other of the family ; or, perhaps, towards yourself; and you may be quite sure that, in this respect, marriage will not mend her. Sulkiness arises from capricious displea- sure not founded in reason. The party takes offence unjustifiably; is unable to frame a complaint, and therefore expresses displeasure by silence. The remedy for sulkiness is, to suffer it to take its fult swinff ; but it is better not to have the disease in your house ; and to be married to it is httle short of madness. 126. Qlueridousmss is a great fault. No man, and, especially, no woman, likes to hear eternal plaintive- ness. That she complain, and roundly complain, of your want of punctuality, of your coolness, of your ' !■'« ti; ,-) V. i m ■'III! 10* COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter m 'I I K liliiir' ! i "l:'] 111 li .Ulltl r iHi ii ii'i neglect, of your liking the company of others : these are all very well, more especiall}'^ as they arc fre- ost aptly typifies by two curs, of different sexes, fajtened to- gether by what sportsmen call couples, pulling differ- ent ways, and snarling and barking and foaming Jike furies. 138. But when promises have been made to a young woman; when they have been relied on for any considerable time ; when it is manifest that her peace and happiness, and, perhaps, her life, de- pend upon their fulfilment ; when things have been carried to this length, the change in the Lover ought to be announced in the manner most likely to make JO* i I. i f.1<** ' •■! ' ■ri ,1 ' ■* f t ■ I- >.^*. >. t il ' ■\ 4 N yA \'A 114 cobbett's advice [Letter !hi: • ::,iM M!i the disappointment as supportable as the case will admit of: for, though it is better to break the pro- mise than to marry one while you like another better; though it is better for both parties, you lAve no right to break the heart of her who has, and that, too, with your accordance, and, indeed, at your instigation, or, at least, by your encouragement, con- fided to your fidelity. You cannot help your change of affections ; but you can help making the transfer in such a way as to cause the destruction, or even probable destruction, nay, if it were but the deep misery, of her, to gain whose heart you had pledged your own. You ought to proceed by slow degrees; you ought to call time to your aid in executing the painful task ; you ought scrupulously to avoid every thing calculated to aggravate the sufferings of the disconsolate party. 139. A striking, a monstrous, instance of conduct contrary of this has recently been placed upon the melancholy records of the Coroner of Middlesex; which have informed an indignant public, that a young man, having first secured the affections of a virtuous young woman, next promised her marriage, then caused the banns to be published, and then, on the very day appointed for the performance of the ceremony, married another woman, in the same church ; and this, too, without, as he avowed, any Provocation, and without the smallest intimation or int of his intention to the disappointed party, who, unable to support existence under a blow so cruel, put an end to that existence by the most deadly and the swiftest poison. If any thing could wipe from our country the stain of having given birth to a monster so barbarous as this, it would be the abhor- rence of him which the jury expressed ; and which, from every tongue, he ought to hear to the last mo- ment of his life. 140. Nor has a man any right to sport with the affections of a young woman, though he stop short of ^poaitive promises. Vanity is generally the tempter m this case ; a desire to be regarded as being admi- '&i II ;t Letter e will epro- lother J, you IS, and t your it, con- jhange ransfer )r even e deep )ledged egrees; ing the d every of the conduct pon the ddlesex; 5, that a )ns of a larriage, then, on e of the le same red, any ation or y, who, o cruel, adly and pe from rth to a le abhor- d which, last mo- with the short of J tempter ig admi- IU.| TO A LOVER. 115 ^ by the women ; a very despicable species of vanity, but frequently greatly mischievous, not with- standnig. You do not, indeed, actually, in so many words, promise to marry ; but the general tenor of your language and deportment has that meaning ; you know that your meaning is so understood ; and if you have not such meaning ; if you be fixed by some previous engagement with, or greater liking for, another ; if you know you are here sowing the seeds of disappointment ; and if you, keeping your previous engagement or greater liking a secret, per- severe, in spite of the admonitions of conscience, you are guilty of deliberate deception, injustice and cruelty : you make to God an ungrateful return for those endowments which have enabled you to achieve this inglorious and unmanly triumph ; and if, as is frequently the case, you ghry in such tri- umph, you may have person, riches, talents to ex- cite envy ; but every just and humane man will abhor your heart. 141. There are, however, certain cases in which you deceive, or nearly deceive, yourself; cases in which you are, by degrees and by circumstances, deluded into something very nearly resembling sin- cere love for a second object, the first still, however, maintaining her ground in your heart; cases in which you are not actuated by vanity, in which you are not guilty of injustice and cruelty; but ca- ses in which you, nevertheless, do wran^; and as I once did a wrong of this sort myself, I will here give a history of it, as a warning to every young man who shall read this little book ; that being the best and, indeed, the only atonement, that I can make, or ever could have made, for this only serious sin that I ever committed against the female sex. 142. The Province of New Brunswick, in North America, in which I passed my years from the age of eighteen to that of twenty-six, consists, in gene- ral, of heaps of rocks, in the interstices of which grow the pine, the spruce, and various sorts of fir trees, or, where the woods have been burnt «?« ' 1 '■m -•if' ■ ,j> . *•■ 1 i '^' Ir ■ i ■ \i : * t* ... § >»;'■' ■' .:, '. im i . ■ 1 ' ■' %,' ' ;■!■ i A' - ''' ' ' \- ■ ik i}'f f^ I I" ^ lit ,tj' ' •4' ' ':;r I ^'s;*!^ !.., I 116 cobbett's advice [Letter down, the bushes of the raspberry or those of the huckleberry. T^lie province is cut asunder length- wise, by a great river, called the St. John, about two hundred miles in length, and, at half way from the mouth full a mile wide. Into this main river run innumerable smaller rivers, there called creeks. On the sides of these creeks the land is, in places, clear of rocks ; it is, in these places, generally good and productive ; the trees that grow here are the birch, the maple, and others of the deciduous class ; natural meadows here and there present themselves ; and some of these spots far surpass in rural beauty any other that my eyes ever beheld ; the creeks, abounding towards their sources in water-falls of endless variety, as well in form as in magnitude, and always teeming with fish, while water-fowl enliven their surface, and while wild-pigeons, of the gayest plumage, flutter, in thousands upon thousands, amongst the branches of the beautiful trees, which, sometimes, for miles together, form an arch over the creeks. 143. I, in one of my rambles in the woods, in which I took great delight, came to a spot at a very short distance from the source of one of these creeks. Here was every thing to delight the eye, and espe- cially of one like me, who seem to have been bom to love rural life, and trees and plants of all sorts. Here were about two hundred acres of natural meadow, interspersed with patches of maple-trees in various forms and of various extent ; the creek (there about thirty miles from its point of joining the St. John) ran down the middle of the spot, which formed a sort of dish, the high and rocky hills rising all around it, except at the outlet of the creek, and these hills crowned with lofty pines : in the hills were the sources of the creek, the waters of which came down in cascades, for any one of which many a nobleman in England would, if he could transfer it, give a good slice of his fertile estate ; and in the creek- at the foot of the cascades, there were, in the ^■* Letter I of the cnglh- ut two am the er run GREEKS. places, ly good are the s class ; iselves ; L beauty creeks, -falls of ude, and enliven e gayest ousands, 1, which, rch over roods, in at a very ie creeks. ;nd espe- een bom all sorts. ' natural iple-trees he creek f joining ot, which ills rising reek, and the hills of which h many a ransfer it, id in the =516, in the III.J TO A LOVER. 117 season, salmon the finest in the world, and so abun- dant, and so easily taken, as to be used for manuring the land. 144. If nature, in her very best humour, had made a spot for the express purpose of captivating me, she could not have exceeded the efforts which she had herr made. Out I found something here besides these rude works of nature ; I found some- thing in the fashioning of which wan had had something to do. I found a large and well-built log dwelling house, standing (in the month of Septem- ber) on the ecge of a very good field of Indian Corn, by the side of which there was a piece of buck-wheat just then mowed. I found a homestead, and some very pretty cows. I found all the things by which an easy and happy farmer is surrounded ; and I found still something besides all these j some- thing that was destined to give me a great deal of pleasure and also a great deal of pain, both in their extreme degree ; and both of which, in spite of the lapse of forty years, now make an attempt to rush back into my heart. 145. Partly from misinformation, and partly from miscalculation, I had lost my way ; and, quite alone, but armed with my sword and a braee of pistols, to defend myself against the bears, I arrived at the log- house in the middle of a moonlight night, the hoar frost covering the trees and the grass. A stout and clamorous dog, kept off by the gleaming of my sword, waked the master of the house, who got up, received me with great hospitality, got me some- thing to eat, and put me into a feather-bed, a thing that I had been a stranger to for some years. I, be- ing very tired, had tried to pass the night in the woods, between the trunks of two large trees, which had fallen side by side, and within a yard of each other. I had made a nest for myself of dry fern, and had made a covering by laying boughs of spruce across the trunk of the trees. But unable to sleep on account of the cold ; becoming sick from the great quantity of w ater that I had drank during the •r lit r<.' J' I I ,.■ ii: ioi 118 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter mi "n k J !:r!i| fi. • ;; m heat of the day, and being, moreover, alarmed at the noise of the bears, and lest one of them should find me in a defenceless state, I had roused myself up. and had crept along as well as I could. So that no hero of eastern romance ever experienced a more en- chanting change. 146. I had got into the house of one of those Yankee Loyalists, who, at the close of the revolu- tionary war (which, until it had succeeded, was called a rebellion) had accepted of grants of land in the King's Province of New Brunswick ; and who, to the great honour of England, had been furnished with all the means of making new and comfortable settlements. I was suffered to sleep till breakfast time, when I found a table, the like of which I have since seen so many in the United States, loaded with good things. The master and the mistress of the house, aged about fifty, were like what an English farmer and his wife were half a century ago. There were two sons, tall and stout, who appeared to have comp in from work, and the youngest of whom was about my age, then twenty-three. But there was another member of the family, aged nineteen, who (dressed according to the neat and simple fashion of New England, whence she had come with her parents five or six years before) had her long light- brown hair twisted nicely up, and fastened on the top of her head, in which head were a pair of lively- blue eyes, associated with features of which that softness and that sweetness, so characteristic of American girls, were the predominant expressions, the whole being set off by a complexion indicative of glowing health, and forming, figure, movements, and all taken together, an assemblage of beauties, far surpassing any that I had ever seen but once in my life. That once was, too, two years agmie ; and, in such a case and at such an age, two years, two whole years, is a long, long while ! It was a space as long as the eleventh part of my then life ! Here was the present against the absent: here was the power of the eyes pitted against that of the memory : [ietter at the d find ilf up. hat no jre en- f those revolu- ;d, was land in id who, rnished fortable reakfast ti I have led with ;s of the Enghsh . There i to have horn was here was ien, who ; fashion with her mg light- id on the •of lively hich that eristic of iressions, icative of ivements, beauties, ,t once in \e; and, ears, two is a space Ifel Here was the memory : III.1 TO A LOVER. •i.'-" 119 here were all the senses up in arms to subdue the influence of the thoughts : here was vanity, here was passion, here was the spot of all spots in the world, and here were also the life, and the manners and the habits and the pursuits that I delighted in : here was every thing that imagination can conceive, luiited in a conspiracy against the poor little bru- nette in England I What, then, did I fall in love at once with this bouquet of lilies and roses ? Oh ! by no means. I was, however, so enchanted with tJte place ; I so much enjoyed its tranquillity, the shade of the maple trees, the business of the farm, the sports of the water and of the woods, that I stayed at it to the last possible minute, promising, at my departure, to come again as often as I possibly could ; a promise which I most punctually fulfilled. 147. Winter is the great season for jaunting and dancing (called frolicki72g') in America. In this pro- vince the river and the creeks were the only roads from settlement to settlement. In summer we travelled in canoes; in winter in sleiglis on the ice or snow. Du- ring more than two 5'^ears I spent all the time I could with my Yankee friends : they were all fond of me : I talked to them about country affairs, my evident de- light in which they took as a compliment to them- selves : the father and mother treated me as one of their children; the sons as a brother; and the daughter, who was as modest and as full of sensibility as she was beautiful, in a way to which a chap much less san- guine than I was would have given the tenderest in- terpretation ; which treatment I, especially in the last-mentioned case, most cordially repaid. 148. It is when you meet in company with others of your own age that you are, in love matters, put, most frequently, to the test, and exposed to detec- tion. The next door neighbour might, in that coun- try, be ten miles off. We used to have a frolic, some- times at one house and sometimes at another. Here, where female eyes are very much on the alert, no secret can long be kept ; and very soon father, mo- ther, brothers and the whole neighbourhood looked ': [*<;.":''j' in ! r'' ,1 ■■J i-^ fei '^■;| •■-X.. \ \ tl I! 120 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter •t* II. '■'' rr/i i ijii M upon the thing as certain, not excepting herself, to whom I, however, had never once even talked of marriage, and had never even told her that I loved her. But I had a thousand times done these by im- plication, taking into view the interpretation that she would naturally put upon my looks, appellations and acts ; and it was of this, that I had to accuse myself. Yet I was not a deceiver; for my affection for her was very great : I spent no really pleasant hours but with her: I was uneasy if she showed the slightest regard for any other young man: I was unhappy if the smallest matter affected her health or spirits : I quitted her in dejection, and returned to her with eager delight : many a time, when I could get leave but for a day, I paddled in a canoe two whole suc- ceeding nights, in order to pass that day with her. If this was not love, it was first cousin to it ; for as to any criminal intention I no more thought of it, in her case, than if slie had been my sister. Many times I put to myself the questions : " What am I at ? Is not this wrong ? Why do IgoV But still I went. 149. Then, farther in my excuse, my prior m- g'agement, though carefully left un alluded to by both parties, was, in that thin population, and owing to the singular circumstances of it, and to the great talk that there always was about me, perfectly weUknoini to her and all her family. It was matter of so much notoriety and conversation in the Province, that General Carleton (brother of the late Lord Dor- chester), who was the Governor when I was there, when he, about fifteen years afterwards, did me the honour, on his return to England, to come and sec me at my house in Duke Street, Westminster, asked, before he went away, to see my wife, of whom he had heard so much before her marriage. So that here was no deception on my part : but still I ought not to have suffered even the most distant hope to be entertained by a person so innocent, so amiable, for whom I had so nuicli affection and to whose heart I had no right to give a single twinge. I ought, from Xelter self, to ked of I loved by im- hat she 3ns and myself, for her Durs but slightest lappy if pirits: I ler with ret leave tole suc- irith her. t ; for as rht of it, •. Many nat am I But still I III. J t: TO A LOVER. 121 the very first, to have prevented the possibility of her ever feeling pain on my account. 1 was young, to be sure ; but I was old enough to know what was my duty in this case, and I ought, dismissing my own feelings, to have had the resolution to perform it. 150. The last fartiTig came ; and now came my just punishment ! The time was known to every bo- dy, and was irrevocably fixed ; for I had to move with a regiment, and the embarkation of a regiment is an epoch in a thinly settled province. To describe this parting would be too painful even at this distant day, and with this frost of age upon my head. The kind and virtuous father came forty miles to see me just as I was going on board in the river. His looks and words I have never forgotten. As the vessel de- scended, she passed the mouth of that creek which I had so often entered - /ith delight ; and though Eng- land, and all that England contained, were before me, I lost sight of this creek with an aching heart. 151. On what trifles turn the great events in the life of man ! If I had received a cool letter from my intended wife ; if I had only heard a rumour of any thing from which fickleness in her might have been inferred ; if I had found in her any, even the small- est, abatement of affection ; if she had but let go any one of the hundred strings by which she held my heart : if any of these, never would the world have heard of me. Young as I was ; able as I was as a soldier ; proud as I was of the admiration and commendations of which I was the object ; fond as I was, too, of the command, which, at so early an age, my rare con- duct and great natural talents had given me ; san- guine as was my mind, and brilliant as were my pros- pects : yet I had seen so much of the meannesses, the unjust partialities, the insolent pomposity, the disgusting dissipations of that way of life, that I was weary of it : I longed, exchanging my fine laced coat for the Yankee farmer's home-spun, to be where I should never behold the supple crouch of servility, and never hear the hectoring voice of authority, again; and, on the lonely 11 banks of this branch- t, I —J 5 \ •\ 122 ^ COBBETT S ADVICE [Letter '#. covered creek, which contained (she out of the ques- tion) every thing congenial to my taste and dear to my heart, I, unapplauded, unfeared, unenvied and uncalumniated, should have lived and died. hiii LETTER IV. '>:f>^ I. . .'' -'r ■' i-r "U ^r 11 t ! ,:n' : 11: ■.r-- r.:,;:ill :> i I, |.; Ill Ill: 124 cobbett's advice [Letter pleasures of their fireside ! To keep her tongue still would be impossible, and, indeed, unreasonable ; and if, as may frequently happen, she be prettier than the wife, she will know how to give the suitable in- terpretation to the looks which, to a next to a cer- tainty, she will occasionally get from him, who, as it were in mockery, she calls by the name of " wo,9- ssipping, it sorrow jbnnds in- 'm% clubSj d-fellows, excusable, olish and t they be, iswer, not m, for this bis breach , this evil lat syjring irst place, whether, rs the ave- is really )Ossibility, however wn away, mail's life, lere is the res ; there it of loose I the back- iitemptible sober and abandons ^iU not, ill iv.J TO A HUSBAND. 135 n !'•■ some degree at least, follow his example ? If he do, he is very much deceived. If she imitate him even in drinking, he has no great reason to complain; and then the cost may be two shillings the night instead of one, equal in amount to the cost of all the bread wanted in the family, while the baker's bill is, per- haps, unpaid. Here are the slander ings, too, going on at home ; for, while the husbands are assembled, it would be hard if the wives were not to do the same ; and the very least that is to be expected is, that the tea-pot should keep pace with the porter-pot or grog-glass. Hence crowds of female acquaintan- ces and intruders, and all the consequent and inevi- table squabbles which form no small part of the torment of the life of man. 173. If you have servants, they know to a mo- ment the time of your absence ; and they regulate their proceedings accordingly. " Like master like man," is an old and true proverb ; and it is natural, if not just, that it should be thus ; for it would be unjust if the careless and neglectful sot were served as faithfully as the vigilant, attentive and sober man. Late hours, cards and dice, are amongst the conse- quences of the master's absence ; and why not, see- ing that he is setting the example ? Fire, candle, profligate visitants, expences, losses, children ruined in habits and morals, and, in short, a train of evils hardly to be enumerated, arise from this most vi- cious habit of the master spending his leisure time from home. But beyond all the rest is the ill-ireat- mmt of the wife. When left to ourselves we all seek the company that we like best ; the company in which we take tJie most delight : and therefore every husband, be his state of life what it may, who spends his leisure time, or who, at least, is in the habit of doing it, in company other than that of his wife and family, tells her and them, as plainly by deeds as he could possibly do by words, that he takes more delight in other company tJmn in theirs. Children repay this with disregard for their father ; but to a wife of auy sensibility it is either a dagger . .Mi ■« 4 1 i' if t ■' :f .{ m'*'i ; !il J! 136 oobbett's advice' [Letter to her heart or an Incitement to revenge, and revenge, too, of a species which a young woman will sel- dom be long in want of the means to gratify. In conclusion of these remarks respecting absentee hus- bands, I would recommend all those who are prone to, or likely to fall into, the practice, to remember the words of Mrs. Sullen, in the Beaux Stratagem : "My husband," says she, addressing a footman whom she had taken as a paramour, " comes reeling " home at midnight, tumbles in beside me as a sal- " mon flounces in a net, oversets the economy of my " bed, belches the fumes of his drink in my face, " then twists himself around, leaving me half naked, " and listening till morning to that tuneful nightin- " gale, his nose." It is at least forty-three years since I read the Beaux Stratagem, and I now quote from memory ; but the passage has always occurred to me whenever I have seen a sottish husband ; and though that species of revenge, for the taking of which the lady made this apology, was carrying the thing too far, yet I am ready to confess, that if I had to sit in judgment on her for ta- king even this revenge, my sentence would be very lenient ; for what right has such a husband to ex^ecX fidelity ! He has broken his vow ; and by what rule of right has she to be bound to hers ? She thought that she was marrying a man ; and she finds that she was married to a beast. He has, in- deed, committed no offence that the law of the land can reach ; but he has violated the vow by which he obtained possession of her person ; and, in the eye of justice, the compact between them is dissolved. 174. The way to avoid the sad consequences of which I have been speaking is to begin well : many a man has become a sottish husband, and brought a family to ruin, without being sottishly inclined, and without liking the gossip of the ale or coftee house. It is by slow degrees that the mischief is done. He is first inveigled, and, in time, he really likes the thing j and, when arrived at that point, he is incurable. Let him resolve, from the very first, *v- i#Nf je^j*- or. 1 '^ [Letter revenge, will sel- iify. In ntee hus- re prone jniember ATAGEM : footman js reeling I as a sal- ny of my my face, ilf naked, I nightin- ree years low quote 5 occurred and *, and taking of i carrying » confess, er for ta- would be I husband IV ; and by hers? She ; and she le has, in- of the land y which he in the eye dissolved, quences of veil: many I brought a iclined^ and )flee house, ^f is done, really likes point, he is very first, iv.j TO A HUSBAND. 137 never to spend an 7mtr from home, unless business, or, at least, some necessary and rational purpose demand it. Wliere ought he to be, but with the person whom he himself hath chosen to be his part- ner for life, and the mother of his children ? What other company ought he to deem so good and so fit- ting as this ? With whom else can he so pleasantly spend his hours of leisure and relaxation? Be- sides, if he quit her to seek company more agreea- ble, is not she set at large by that act of his ? What justice is there in confining her at home without any company at all, while he rambles forth in search of company more gay thai, he finds at home ? 175. Let the young married man try the thing ; let him resolve not to be seduced from his home ; let him never go, in one single instance, unnecessarily from his own fire-side. Habit is a powerful thing ; and if he begin right, the pleasure that he will de- rive from it will induce him to continue right. This is not being " tied to the aprrni-strings,^^ which means quite another matter, as I shall show by-and- by. It is being at the husband's place, whether he have children or not. And is there any want of matter for conversation between a man and his wife ? Why not talk of the daily occurrences to her, as well as to any body else ; and especially to a com- pany of tippling and noisy men ? If you excuse your- self by saying that you go to read the news^pcver, I answer, buy the newspaper, if you must read j . the cost is not half of what you spend per day at the pot-house ; and then you have it your own, and may read it at your leisure, and your wife can read it as well as yourself, if read it you must. And, in short, what must that man be made of, who does not prefer sitting by his own fire-side with his wife and children, reading to them, or have them read, to hearing the gab- ble and balderdash of a club or a pot-house company ! 176. Men must frequently be from home at all hours of the day and night. Sailors, soldiers, mer- chants, all men out of the common track of labour, and even some in the very lowest walks are some* 12* ■J \ i^ i < ; i fi i 'I 1; ;^^' ff \\ > 138 Tm'^^ COBBETTS ADVICE [Letter timescompelled by their affairs, or by circumstances, to be from their homes. But what I protest against is, the habit of spending leisure hours from home, and near to it ; and doing this without any necessi- ty, and by choice; liking the next door, or any house in the same street, better than your own. When absent from necessity, there is no wound given to the heart of the wife ; she concludes that you would be with her if you could, and that satis- fies ; she laments the absence, but submits to it without complaining. Yet, in these cases, her feelings ought to be consulted as much as possible ; she ought to be fully apprised of the probable dura- tion of the absence,, and of the time of return ; and if these be dependent on circumstances, those cir- cumstances ought to be fully stated ; for you have no right to keep Jier mind upon the rack, when you have it in your power to put it in a state, of ease. Few men %ave been more frequently taken from home by business, or by a necessity of some sort, than I have ; and I can positively assert, that, as to my return, I never once disappointed my wife in the whole course of our married life. If the time of return was contingent, I never failed to keep her informed from day to day : if the time was fixed, or when it became fixed, my arrival was as sure as my life. Going from London to Botley, once, with Mr. FiNNERTY, whose name I can never pronounce without an expression of my regard for his memory, we stopped at Alton, to dine with a friend, who, de- lighted with Finnerty's talk, as cvdi;y body else was, kept us till ten or eleven o'clock, and was proceed- ,^ ing to the other bottle, when I put in my protest, * saying, " We must go, my wife will be frightened." " Blood, man," said Finnerty, " you- do not mean to go home to night !" I told him I did ; and then sent my son, who was with us, to order out the post- chaise. We had twenty-three miles to go, during which we debated the question, whether Mrs. Cob- BETT would be up to receive us, I contending for the affirmative, and he for the negative. She was up, [Letter istances, t against m home, ' necessi- , or any Dur own. o wound udes that that satis- nits to it 3ases, her possible ; lable dura- iturn; and those cir- • you have when you iteiOf ease, taken from some sort, that, as to wife in the he time of ) keep her was fixed, as sure as once, with pronounce ^is memory, id, who, de- .y else was, as proceed- ny protest, frightened." ot mean to , and then lUt the post- go, during Mrs. CoB- lingforthe Ihe was up, IV.J TO A HUSBAND. 1 1. 139 and had a nice fire for us to sit down at. She had not committed the matter to a servant ; her servants and children were all in bed ; and she was up, to perform the duty of receiving her husband and his friend. " You did not expect him V said Finnerty. " To be sure I did," said she ; " he never disappoint- ed me in his life." 177. Now, if all young men knew how much value women set upon this species of fidelity, there would be fewer unhappy couples than there are. If men have appointments with lords^ they never dream of breaking them ; and I can assure them that wives are as sensitive in this respect as lords. I had seen many instances of conjugal unhappiness arising out of that carelessness which left wives in a state of uncertainty as to the movements of their hus- bands ; and I took care, from the very outset, to guard against it. For no man has a right to sport with the feelings of any innocent person whatever, and particularly with those of one who has commit- ted her happiness to his hands. The truth is, that men in general look upon women as having no feelings different from their ow^n ; and they know that they themselves would regard such disappoint- ments as nothing. But this is a great mistake ; wo- men feel more acutely than men ; their love is more ardent, more pure, more lasting, and they are more frank and sincere in the utterance of their feelings. They ought to be treated with due consideration had for all their amiable qualities and all their weakness- es, and nothing by which their minds are affected ought to be deemed a trifie, 178. When we consider what a young woman gives up on her wedding day ; she makes a surren- der, an absolute surrender, of her liberty, for the joint lives of the parties ; she gives the husband the absolute right of* causing her to live in what place, and in what manner and what society, he pleases ; she gives him the power to take from her, and to use, for his own purposes, all her goods, unless re- served by some legal instrument; and, above all, \:^ ,jf* ; i 1 \ , I['ften beheld ation ; and [erlook ; for by others, ith regard [n dog of a from Thet- wife would the wash- ild but kiss bw, though philosophy •thing wor- unless the Ind of his lirth. id cc:iside- isible treat- dutiful de- her slave; he is not to yield to her against the dictates of his own reason and judgment ; it is her duty to obey all his lawful commands ; and, if she have sense, she will perceive that it is a disgrace to herself to acknow- ledge, as a husband, a thing over which she has an absolute controul. It should always be recollected that you are the party whose body must, if any do, lie in jail for debt, and for debts of her contracting, too, as well as of your own contracting. Over her tonffue, too, you possess a clear right to exercise, if necessary, some controul ; for if she use it in an un- justifiable manner, it is against you and not against her, that the law enables, and justly enables, the slandered party to proceed ; which would be mon- strously unjust, if the law were not founded on the right which the husband has to controul, if necessa- ry, the tongue of the wife, to compel her to keep it within the limits prescribed by the law. A charm- ing, a most enchanting life, indeed, would be that of a husband, if he were bound to cohabit with and to maintain one for all the debts and all the slanders of whom he was answerable, and over whose con- duct he possessed no compulsory controul. 183. Of the remedies in the case of really bad wives, squanderers, drunkards, adultresses, I shall speak further on ; it being the habit of us all to put off ,to the last possible moment the performance of dis- agreeable duties. But, far short of these vices there are several faults in a wife that may, if not cured in time, lead to great unhappiness, great injury to the interests as well as character of her husband and children ; and which faults it is, therefore, the hus- band's duty to correct. A wife may be chaste, sober in the full sense of the word, industrious, cleanly, frugal, and may be devoted to her husband and her children to a degree so enchanting as to make them all love her beyond the power of words to express. And yet she may, partly under the influence of her natural disposition, and partly encouraged by the I great and constant homage paid to her virtues, and presuming, too, on the pain with which she knows ) <\ ■ N> •n 1 1 4 1 1 ]U : ! ' ;. i^ ' t: '' m iM ■'•'Mm iii) ^ii! !*•!• i 144 COBBETT'9 ADVlCfi LLeiter her will would be thwarted ; she may, with all her virtues, be thus led to a bold interference in the af- fairs of her husband / may attempt to dictate to him in matters quite out of her own sphere ; and, in the pursuit of the gratification of her love of power and command, may wholly overlook the acts of folly or injustice which she would induce her husband to commit, and overlook, too, the contemptible thing that she is making the man whom it is her duty to honour and obey, and the abasement of whom can- not take place without some portion of degradation falling upon herself. At the time when " THE BOOK" came out, relative to the late ill-treated Queen Caro- line, I was talking upon the subject, one day, with a parson^ who had not read the Book, but who, as was the fashion with all those who were looking up to the government, condemned the Queen unheard. -'Now," said I, "be not so shamefully unjust; but "^e/ the book) read it, and then give your judgment." — "Indeed," said his wife, who was sitting by, "but HE SHA'N'T," pronouncing the words sha^nHwlih an emphasis and a voice tremendously masculine. "Oh!" said I, "if he SHA'N'T, that is another mat- " ter ; but, if he sha' n't read, if he sha' n't hear the " evidence, he sha' n't be looked upon, by me, as a "just judge; and I sha' n't regard him, in future, as "having any opinion of his own in any thing." All which the husband, the poor henpecked thing, heard without a word escaping his lips. 184. A husband thus under command, is the most contemptible of God's creatures. Nobody can place reliance on him for any thing; whether in the ca- pacity of employer or employed, you are never sure of him. No bargain is firm, no engagement sacred, with such a man. Feeble as a reed before the bois- terous she-commander, he is bold in injustice to- wards those whom it pleases her caprice to mark out for vengeance. In the eyes of neighbours, for friends such a man cannot have, in the eyes of ser- vants, in the eyes of even the beggars at his door, such a man is a mean and despicable creature, though IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 145 he may roll in wealtlTand possess great talents into the bargain. Such a man has, in fact, no property; he has nothing that he can rightly call his ovm ; he is a beggarly dependent under his own roof; and if he have any thing of the man left in him, and if there be rope or river near, the sooner he betakes him to the one or the other tlie better. How many men, how many families, have I known brought to utter p' \ t ^ly by the husband suffering himself to be sub- i d > be cowed down, to be held in fear, of even a virtuous wife ! What, then, must be the lot of him who submits to a commander who, at the same time, sets all virtue at defiance ! 185. Women are a sisterhood. They make com- mon cause in behalf of the sex } and, indeed, this is natural enough, when we consider the vast power that the law gives us over them. The law is for us, and they combine, wherever they can, to mitigate its effects. This is perfectly natural, and, to a certain extent, laudabie, evincing fellow-feeling and public spirit: but when carried to the length of "^es^a'wV it is despotism on the one side and slavery on the other. Watch, therefore, the incipient steps of encroach- ment; and they come on so slowly so softly, that you must be sharp-sighted if you perceive them : but the moment you do perceive them : your love will blind for too long a time ; but the moment you do perceive them, put at once an effectual stop to their progress. Never minri the pain that it may give you: a day of pain at this time will spare you years of pain in time to come. Many a man has been miserable, and made his wife miserable too, for a score or two of years, only for want of resolution to bear one day of pain: and it is a great deal to bear; it is a great deal to do to thwart the desire of one whom you so dearly love, and whose virtues daily render her more and more dear to you. But (and this is one of the most admirable of the mother's traits) as she herself will, while the tears stream from her eyes, force the nau- seous medicine down the throat of her child, whose every cry is a dagger to her heart ; as she herself 13 • 1 ;:? ,t !„1 '^4 ■■\ m I 146 cobbett's advick [Lettej I,, ! r i' ' ''^IB ^-^it il||||:':ii?,.r m : i has the courage to do this for the sake of her child, why should you flinch from the performance of a still more important and more sacred duty towards herself, as well as towards you and your children? 186. Am I recommending tyranny 7 Am I recom- mending dwr^jO-arcZ of the wife's opinions and wishes? Am I recommending ^.reserve towards her that would seem to say that she was not trust-worthy, or not a party interested in her husband's affairs? By no means : on the contrary, though I would keep any thing disagreeable from her, I should not enjoy the prospect of good without making her a participator. But reason says, and God has said, that it is the duty of wives to be obedient to their husbands ; and the very nature of things prescribes that there must be a head of every house, and an undivided authority. And then it is so clearly just that the authority should rest with him on whose head rests the whole respon- sibility, that a woman, when patiently reasoned with on the subject, must be a virago in her very nature not to submit with docility to the terms of her mar- riage vow. 187. There are, in almost every considerable neigh- bourhood, a little squadron of she-commanders, generally the youngish wives of old or weak-minded men, and generally without children. These are the tutoresses of the young wives of the vicinage; they, in virtue of their experience, not only school the wives, but scold the husbands ; they teach the for- mer how to encroach and the latter how to yield: so that if you suffer this to go quietly on, you are soon under the care of a comite as completely as if you were insane. You want no comite : reason, law, re- ligion, the marriage vow ; all these have made you head, have given you full power to rule your family, and if you give up your right, you deserve the con- tempt that assuredly awaits you, and also the ruin that is, in all probability, your doom. 188. Taking it for granted that you will not suf- fer more than a second or third session of the female comith^ let me say a word or two about the conduct of v« IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 147 men in deciding between the conflicting opinions of husbands and wives. When a wife has a point to car- ryj and finds herself hard pushed, or when she thinks it necessary to call to her aid all the force she can possibly muster; one of her resources is, the vote on her side of all her husband's visiting friends. " My " husband thinks so and so, and I think so and so ; ^' now, Mr. Tomkins, dont you think / am right ?" To be sure he does ; and so does Mr. Jenkins, and so does Mr.Wilkins, and so does K -. Dickins, and you would swear .that they were all her kins. Now this is very foolish, to say the least of it. None of these complaisant kins would like this in their own case. It is the fashion to say aye to all that a woman as- serts, or contends for, especially in contradiction to her husband ; and a very pernicious fashion it is. It is, in fact, not to pay her a compliment worthy of acceptance, but to treat her as an empty and conceit- ed fool ; and no sensible woman will, except from mere inadvertence, make the appeal. This fashion, however, foolish and contemptible as it is in itself, is attended, very frequently, with serious conse- quences. Backed by the opinion of her husband's friends, the wife returns to the charge with redoubled vigour and obstinacy; and if you do not yield, ten to one but a quarrel is the result ; or, at least, some- thing approaching towards it. A gentleman at whose house I was, about five years ago, was about to take a fhrm for his eldest son, who was a very fine young man, about eighteen years old. The mother, who was as virtuous and as sensible a woman as I have ever known, wished him to be " in the law." There were six or eight intimate friends present, and all unhesitatingly joined the lady, thinking it a pity that HarrV, who had had " such a good education," should be buried in a farm-house. " And don't you think so too, Mr. Cobbett," said the lady, with great earnestness. "Indeed, Ma'am," said I, " I should think "it very great presumption in me to offer any " opinion at all, and especially in opposition to the " knowa decision of the father^ who is the be>st judge, 4"f /I. f {S B '4% ■ i. i- a W4 148 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter !'' '! . til I I, III * -.JflllilHiill'i! '■'\ '] h< ■I i:l "and the only rightful judge, in such a case." This was a very sensible and well-behaved woman^ and I still respect her very highly 5 but I could perceive that I instantly dropped out of her good graces. Harry, hov^rever, I was glad to hear, went " to be buried in the farm-house." 189. " A house divided against itself," or, rather, in itself, "cannot stand;" and it ts divided against . itself if there be a divided authority. The wife ought to be heardf and patiently heard j she ought to be reasoned with, and, if possible, convinced ; but if, after all endeavours in this way, she remain opposed to the husband's opinion, his will must be obeyed ; or he, at once, becomes nothing ; she is, in fact, the master^ and he is nothing but an insignificant in- mate. As to matters of little comparative moment ; as to what shall be for dinner ; as to how the house shall be furnished ; as to the management of the house and of menial servants : as to those matters, and many others, the wife may have her way with- out any danger ; but when the questions are, what is to be the caUing to be pursued ; what is to be the ^lace of residence; what is to be the style of living and scale of expence ; what is to be done with fro- perty; what the manner and place of educating children ; what is to be their calling or state of life ^ who are to be employed or entrusted by the hus- band ; what are the principles that he is to adopt as to public matters ; whom he is to have for coadju- tors or friends ; all these must be left solely to the husband ; in all these he must have his will ; or there never can be any harmony in the family. 190. Nevertheless, in some of these concerns, wives should be heard with a great deal of attention, especially in the affairs of choosing your male ac- quaintances and friends and associates. Women are more quick-sighted than men ; they are less disposed to confide in persons upon a first acquaintance ; they are more suspicious as to motives ; they are less liable to be deceived by professions and protesta- tions; they watch words with a more scrutinizing . .y te ,* [Letter ise." This tiaiij and I I perceive )d graces, jnt " to be or, rather, ed against wife ought ight to be ed ; but if, in opposed )e obeyed ; in fact, the nificant in- 3 moment ; '■ the house lent of the se matters, way with- are, what is to be the le of living B with pro- educating tate of Ufej y the hus- to adopt as for coadju- olely to the 11 5 or there concerns, if attention, ir male ac- Women are ss disposed ance ; they ey are less d protesta- crutinizing !;r.:J iv.] TO A HUSBAND. 149 €ar, and looks with a keener eye ; and, making due allowance for their prejudices in particular cases, their opinions and remonstrances, with regard to matters of this sort, ought not to be set at naught without great deliberation. Lou vet, one of the Brissotins who fled for their lives in the time of Ro- bespierre; this LouvET, in his narrative, entitled "Mes Perils," and which I read, for the first time, to divert my mind from the perils of the yellow-fe- ver, in Philadelphia, but with which I was so capti- vated as to have read it many times since ; this wri- ter, giving an account of his wonderful dangers and escapes, relates, that being on his way to Paris from the vicinity of Bordeaux, and having no regular passport, fell lame, but finally crept on to a misera- ble pot-house, in a small town in the Limosin. The landlord questioned him with regard to who and what he was, and whence he came ; and was satisfi- ed with his answers. But the landlady, who had looked sharply at him on his arrival, whispered a little boy, who ran away, and quickly returned with the mayor of the town. Louvet soon discovered that there was no danger in the mayor, who could not decipher his forged passport, and who, being well plied with wine, wanted to hear no more of the matter. The landlady, perceiving this, slipped out and brought a couple of aldermen, who asked to see the passport. "O, yes; but drink Jirst," Then there was a laughing etory to tell over again, at the request of the half-drunken mayor ; then a laughing and more drinking ; the passport in Louvet's hand, .but never opened, and, while another toast was drink- ing, the passport slid back quietly into the pocket ; the woman looking furious all the while. At last, the mayor, the aldermen, and the landlord, all nearly drunk, shook hands with Louvet, and wished him a good journey, swore he was a true sans cidotte ; but, he says, that the " sharp-sighted woman, who was "to be deceived by none of his stories or professions, "saw him get off with deep and manifest disappoint- "ment and chagrin." I have thought of this many h, \. ■; : "IP h4^ r:i f I lit :-i 4 ::;;i 4 J'i' : :; ^1 ISi~- »^ i5o; cobbett's advice [Letter % times since, when I have had occasion to witness the quick'Sightedness and penetration of women. The same quality that makes them, as they noto- riously are, more quick in discovering expedients in cases of difficulty, makes them more apt to pene- trate into motives and character. 191. I now come to a matter of the greatest pos- sible importance; namely, that great troubler of the married state, that great bane of families, jealousy ; and I shall first speak of jealmisy in the wife. This is always an unfortunate thing, and sometimes fatal. Yet, if there be a great propensity towards it, it is very difficult to be prevented. One thing, however, every husband can do in the way of prevention ; and that is, to give no ground, for it. And here, it is not sufficient that he strictly adhere to his marriage TOW ; he ought further to abstain from every art, however free from guilt, calculated to awaken the j^ slightest degree of suspicion in a mind, the peace of "'■which he is bound by every tie of justice and hu- ' inanity not to disturb, or, if he can avoid it, to suffer It to be disturbed by others. A woman that is very fond of her husband, and this is the case with nine- tenths of English and American women, does not like to share with another any, even the smallest I)ortion, not only of his affection, but of his assidui- ties and applause ; and, as the bestowing of them on another, and receiving payment in kind, can serve no purpose other than of gratifying one's vanity^ they ought to be abstained from, and especially if the gratification be to be purchased with even the chance of exciting uneasiness in her, whom it is your sacred duty to make as happy as you can. 192. For about two or three years after I was married, I, retaining some of m)^ military manners, used, both in France and America, to ramp most famously with the girls that came in my way ; till one day, at Philadelphia, my wife said to me, in a very gentle manner, " Don't do that \ I do not like iJ." That was quite enough : I had never thought on the subject before : one hair of her head was wise, sures 194 being Ireedi to sit walk thanl near, I neve :* more dear to me than all the other women in the world, and this I knew that she knew ; but I now saw that this was not all that she had a right to from me ; I saw, that she had the further claim upon me that I should abstain from every thing that might induce others to believe that there was any other woman for whom, even if I were at liberty, I had any affection. I beseech young married men to bear this in mind ; for, on some trifle of this sort, the happiness or misery of a long life frequently turns. If the mind of a wife be disturbed on this score, every possible means ought to be used to restore it to peace ; and though her suspicions be perfectly groundless ; though they be wild as the dreams of madmen ; though they may present a mixture of the furious and the ridiculous, still they are to be treat- ed with the greatest lenity and tenderness;' and if, after all, you fail, the frailty is to be lamented as a misfortune, and not punished as a fault, seeing that it must have its foundation in a feeling towards 3'^ou, which it would be the basest of ingratitude, and the most ferocious of cruelty, to repay by harshnesn of any description. ^^^ 193. As to those husbands who make the unju6t suspicions of their wives sl justification for making those suspicions just ; as to such as can make a sport of such suspicions, rather brag of them than other- wise, and endeavour to aggravate rather than as- suage them ; as to such I have nothing to say, they being far without the scope of any advice that I can offer. But to such as are not of this description, I have a remark or two to offer with respect to mea- sures of prevention. 194. And, first, I never could see the sense of its being a piece of etiquette, a sort of mark of good Ireming', to make it a rule that man and wife are not to sit side by side inamixed company; that if a party walk out, the wife is to give her arm to some other than her husband ; that if there be any other hand near, his is not to help to a seat or into a carriage. I never could see the sense of this ; but I have al* I 1 ■!;: ■ 1l, an- 1;' 1^ ' • : 1 .: i:-ji ■;. 4 m I I in 192 cobbett's advice [Letter ivi kwi ]>"\:^ '.': .!■ -> ■t ways seen the nmsense of it plainly enough ; it is, in short, amongst many other foolish and mischie- vous things that we do in aping the manners of those whose riches (frequently ill-gotten) and whose power embolden them to set, with impunity, perni- cious examples j and to their examples this nation owes more of its degradation in morals than to any other source. The truth is, that this is a piece of fcdse refinement : it, being interpreted, means, that so free are the parties from a liability to suspicion, so innately virtuous and pure are they, that each man can safely trust his wife with another man, and each woman her husband with another woman. But this piece of false refinement, like all others, overshoots its mark ; it says too much ; for it says that the parties have lewd thoughts in their minds. This is not the^acZ, with regard to people in general; but it must have been the origin of this set of con- summately ridiculous and contemptible rules. 195. Now I would advise a young man, especially if he have a pretty wife, not to commit her unneces- sarily to the care of any other man ; not to be sepa- rated from her in this studious and ceremonious manner ; and not to be ashamed to prefer her com- pany and conversation to that of any other woman. I never could discover any good breeding in set- ting another man, almost expressly, to poke his nose up in the face of my wife, and talk nonsense to her ; for, in such cases, nonsense it generally is. It is not a thing of much consequence, to be sure ; but when the wife is young, especially, it is not seemly, at any rate, and it cannot possibly lead to any good, though it may not lead to any great evil. And, on the other hand, you may be quite sure that, whatever she may seem to think, of the matter, she will not like you the better for your attentions of this sort to other women, especially if they be young and hand- some : and as this species of fashionable nonsense can do you no good, why gratify your love of talk, or the vanity of any woman, at even the risk of I exciting uneasiness in that mind of which it is your [Lettei I IV.I TO A HUSBAND. 153 igh ; it is, L mischie- lanners of and whose ity, perni- his nation lian to any a piece of aeans, that suspicion, , that each sr man, and er woman, all others, ; for it says Iheir mimls, 3 in general; I set of coii- mles. ,n, especially ler unneces- it to be sepa- ceremonious lev her com- ;her woman. iding inset- >oke his nose lensetoher; is. It is not e ; but when iemly,atany rood, though '.nd, on the it, whatever she will not ff this sort to g and hand- jle nonsense love of talk, the risk of Lch it is youi most sacred duty to preserve, if you can, the uninter- rupted tranquillity. 196. The truth is, that the greatest security of all against jealousy in a wife is to show, to prcme, by your acts, by your words also, but more especially by your actSj that you prefer her to all the world ; and, as I said before, I know of no act that is, in this respect, equal to spending in her company every moment of your leisure time. Every body knows, and young wives better than any body else, that poople, w^o C8^ hoose, will be where they like best to be, and ..at w. ^ will be along ^iva those t/?/iose company they best like. The matter is very plain, then, and I do beseech you to bear it in mind. Nor do I see the use, or sense, of keeping a great deal of cmipany as it is called. "What company can a young man and woman want more than their two selves, and their children, if they have any ? If here be not company enough, it is but a sad affair. The pernicious cards are brought forth by the com- pany-keeping, the rival expences, the sittings up late at night, the seeing of " the ladies home,''^ and a thousand squabbles and disagreeable consequences. But, the great thing of all is, that this hankering after company, proves, clearly proves, that you want something beyond the society of your wife ; and that she is sure to feel most acutely : the bare fact contains an imputation against her, and it is pretty sure to lay the foundation of jealousy, or of some- thing still worse. 1^. If acts of kindness in you are necessary in all cases, they are especially so in cases of her ill- ness, from whatever cause arising. I will not sup- pose myself to be addressing any husband capable of being unconcerned while his wife's life is in the most distant danger from illness, though it has been my very great mortification to know in my life time^ two or three brutes of this description ; but, far short of this degree of brutality, a great deal of fault may be committed. When men are ill, they feel every neglect with double anguish, and, what iS ■.\-r~\ \: .it: W i; ■'■i a i t n 'm Vyr ■ 154 cobbett's adticb [tetter then must be in such cases the feelings of women, whose ordinary feelings are so much more acute than those of men ; what must be their feelings in case of neglect in illness, and especially if the neg- lect come from the husband ! Your own heart will, I hope, tell you what those feelings must be, and will spare me the vain attempt to describe them ; and, if it do thus instruct you, you will want no arguments from me to induce you, at such a season, to prove the sincerity of your affection by every kind word and kind act that your mind can suggest. This is the time to try you ; and be assured, that the im- pression left on her mind now will be the true and lasting impression ; and, if it be good, will be a better prescvative against her being jealous, than ten thousand of your professions ten thousand times repeated. In such a case, you ought to spare no expense that you can possibly afford ; you ought to neglect nothing that your means will enable you to do; for, what is the use of money if it be not to be expended in this case? But, more than all the rest, is your own '^sonal attention. This is the valuable thing ; this is the great balm to the sufferer, and, it is efficacious in proportion as it is proved to be sincere- Leave nothing to other hands that you can do yourself; the mind has a great deal to do in all the ailments of the body, and, bear in mind, that, whatever be the event, you have a more than ample reward. I cannot press this point too strongly upon you ; the bed of sickness presents no charms, no allurements, and women know this well; they watch, in such a case, your every word and every look : and now it is that their confidence is secured, or their suspicions excited, for life. 198. In conclusion of these remarks, as to jea- lousy in a wife, I cannot help expressing my abhor- rence of those husbands who treat it as a matter for ridicule. To be sure, infidelity in a man is less hei- nous than infidelity in the wife ; but still, is the marriage vow nothing? Is a promise solemnly j made before God, and in the face of the world, no- [Letter I ^^'l TO A husband; 155 t ' >f women, lore acute feelings in if the neg- heart will, be, and will sm ; and, if arguments 1, to prove kind word 3t. This is tiat the im- hetrue and I, will be a ealous, than usand times to spare no fOVL ought to nable you to if it be not fore than all on. This is balm to the .ion as it is ) other hands s a great deal and, bear in have a more his point too s presents no ow this well; ry word and confidence is life. s, as to jea- g my abhor- a matter for bnislessbei- k still, is the tse solemnly le world, no- thing? Is a violation of a contract, and that, too, with a feebler party, nothing of which a man ought to be ashamed ? But, besides all these, there is the cruelty. First, you win, by great pains, perhaps, a woman's affections ; then, in order to get posses- sion of her person, you marry her j then, after en- joyment, you break your vow, you bring upon her the mixed pity and jeers of the world, and thus you leave her to weep out her life. Murder is more horrible than this, to be sure, and the criminal law, which punishes divers other crimes, does not reach this ; but, in the eye of reason and of a moral jus- tice, it is surpassed by very few of those crimes. Passion may be pleaded, and so it may, for almost every other crime of which man can be guilty. It is not a crime against nature ; nor are any of these which men commit in consequence of their necessi- ties. The temptation is ^eai ; and is not the temp- tation great when men thieve or rob ? In short, there is no excuse for an act so unjust and so cruel, and the world is just as to this matter ; for, I have always observed, that, however men are disposed to laugh at these breaches of vows in men, the act seldom fails to produce injury to the whole character ; it leaves after all the joking, a stain, and, amongst those who depend on character for a livelihood, it often produces ruin. At the very least, it makes an un- happy and wrangling family ; it makes children despise or hate their fathers, and it affords an exam- ple at the thought of the ultimate consequences of which a father ought to shudder. In such a case, children will take part, and thejr ought to take part, with the mother: she is the injured party; the shame brought upon her attaches, in part, to them: they feel the injustice done them ; and, if such a Iman, when the grey hairs, and tottering knees, and Ipiping voice come, look around him in vain for a Iprop, let him, at last, be just, and acknowledge that |he has now the due reward of his own wanton cruel- ty to one whom he had solemnly sworn tj.i love Wd to cherish to the last hour of liis or her life. t 1 ■ » "I i ■■ [ ^ i : ■ : 1 1 ' ,'.' •i '' 'if 4 , :tj: I'^l: t^ •%4: m A" «^ n rP' ii-'*i- iii H ' i ! I li.illl. ! h I COBBETT^S ADVICB [Lettei 199. But, bad as is conjugal infidelity in the hus' band, it is much worse in the wife: a proposition that it is necessary to maintain by the force of rea- son, because ths women, as a sisterhood, are prone to deny the truth of it. They say that adultery is adultery, in men as well as in them ; and that, there- fore, the offence is as great in the one case as in the other. As a crime, abstractedly considered, it cer- tainly is ; but, as to the consequences, there is a wide difference. In both cases, there is the breach of a solemn vow, but, there is this great distinction, that the husband, by his breach of that vow, only brings shame upon his wife and family j whereas the wife, by a breach of her vow, may bring the husband a spurious offspring to maintain, and may bring that spurious offspring to rob of their fortunes, and in some cases of their bread, her legitimate children. So that here is a great and evident wrong done to numerous parties, besides the deeper disgrace inflict- ed in this case than in the other. 200. And why is the disgrace creeper? Because here is a total want of delicacy ; here is, in fact, prostitution; here is grossness and filthiness of mind j here is every thing that argues baseness of character. Women should be, and they are, except in few instances, far more reserved and more delicate than men ; nature bids them be such ; the habits and manners of the world confirm this precept of nature; and therefore, when they commit this offence, they excite loathing, as well as call for reprobation. In the countries where a plurality of wives is permitted, there is no plurality of husbands. It is there thought not at all indelicate for a man to have several wives; but the bare, thought of a woman having two 1m- bg,nds would excite horror. The widows of the Hindoos burn themselves in the pile that consumes their husbands ; but the Hindoo widowers do not dispose of themselves in this way. The widows devote their bodies to complete destruction, lest, even after the death of their husbands, they should be tempted to connect themselves with other men ; and [Letter i IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 157 lered, it cer- inction, that r? Because thouffh thi& is carrying delicacy far indeed, it reads to Christian wives a lesson not unworthy of their attention ; for, though it is not desirable that their bodies should be turned into handfuls of ashes, even (hat transmutation were preferable to that infidelity which fixes the brand of shame on the cheeks of their parents, their children, and on those of all who eveir called them friend. 201. For these plain and forcible reasons it is that this species of offence is far more heinous in the wife than in the husband ; and the people of all ci- vilized countries act upon this settled distinction. Men who have been guilty of the offence are not cut off from society, brt women who have been guilty of it are ; for, as we all know well, no woman, mar- ried or single, of fair reputation, will risk that re- putation by being ever seen, if she can avoid it, with a woman who has ever, at any time, committed this oifeiice, which contains in itself, and by universal award, a sentence of social excommunication for life. 202. If, therefore, it be the duty of the husband to adhere strictly to his marriage vow : if his breach of that vow be naturally attended with the fatal con- sequences above described : how much more impe- rative is the duty on the wife to avoid, even the semblance of a deviation from that vow ! If the man's misconduct, in this respect, bring shame on so many innocent parties, what shame, what dishonour, what misery follow such misconduct in the wife ! Her parents, those of her husband, all her relations, and all her friends, share in her dishonour. And her chUdTen! how is she to make atonement to them! They are commanded to honour their father and their mother ; but not such a mother as this, who, on the contrary, has no claim to any thing from them but hatred, abhorrence, and execration. It is she who has broken the ties of nature ; she has dishonoured her own offspring ; she has fixed a mark of reproach on those who once made a part of her own body : nature shuts her out of the pale of its H r • ft d • ■ f 1,4, ■\¥ W A 158 cobbett's advice [Letter ijii 4' influence, and condemns her to the just detestatir n of those whom it formerly bade love her as their own life. 203. But as the crime is so much more heinous, and the punishment so much more severe, in the case of the wife than it is in the case of tht husband, so the caution ought to be greater in makir.g the ac- cusation, or entertaining the suspicion. Men ought to be very slow in entertaining such suspicions: they ought to have clear proof before they can sus- pect : a proneness to sucn suspicions is a very un- fortunate turn of the mind ; and, indeed, few charac- ters are more despicable than that oi ^ jealoim-headcd husband ; rather than be tied to the whims of one of whom, an innocent woman of spirit would earn her bread over the washing-tub, or with a hay-fork, or a reap-hook. With such a man there can be no peace; and, as far as children are concerned, the false accusation is nearly equal to the reality. When a wife discovers her jealousy, she merely imputes to her husband inconstancy and breach of his marriage vow ; but jealousy in him imputes to her a willing- ness to palm a spurious offspring upon him, and upon her legitimate fchildren, as robbers of their birth- right; and, besides this, grossness, filthiness, and prostitution. She imputes to him injustice and cru- elty : but he imputes to her that which banishes her from society ; that which cuts her off for life from every thing connected with female purity; that which brands her with infamy to her latest breath. 204. Very slow, therefore, ought a husband to be in entertaining even the thought of this crime in his wife. He ought to be quite sure before he take tlie smallest step in the way of accusation ; but if un- happily he have the proof, no consideration on earth ought to induce him to cohabit with her one moment longer. Jealous husbands are not despicable because they have grounds ; but because they Imve not frrminds ; and this is generally the case. When they have grounds, their own honour commands them to cast off the object, as they would cut out a j»i [Letter detestatir n ir as their IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 159 com or a cancer. It is not tlie jealousy in itself, which is despicable; but the continuing to live in that state. It is no dishonour to be a slave in Al- ■e heinous I giers, for instance; the dishonour begins only where 3re, in the It husband, tir.g the ac- Men ought suspicions: By can sus- s a very un- few charac- ilous-headed lims of one would earn a hay-fork, re can be no icerned, the lity. When y imputes to lis marriage er a willing- m, and upon their birth- ihiness, and Itice and cru- lanishes her for life from lurity; that ^test breath. ..sband to be crime in his he take the ; but if un- ion on earth [one moment :able because y have not .se. When commands lid cut out a you remain a slave voluntarily ; it begins the mo- ment you can escape from slavery, and do not. It is despicable unjustly to be jealous of your wife ; but it is infamy to cohabit with her if you know her to be guilty. 205. I shall be told that the law compels you to live with her, unless you be rich enough to disen- gage yourself from her ; but the law does not com- pel you to remain in the same country with her ; and, if a man have no other means of ridding him- Belf of such a curse, what are moi ntains or seas or traverse ? And what is the risk (if such there be) of exchanging a life of bodily ease for a life of la- bour? What are these, and numerous oth^r ills Of they happen) superadded ? Nay, what is death itself, compared with the baseness, the infamy, the nei e)- ceasing shame and reproach of living under the same roof with a prostituted woman, and calling: hi r your vsife ? But, there are children^ and what are to be- come of these ? To be taken away from the pro- stitute, to be sure ; and this is a duty which you owe to them : the sooner they forget her the better, and the farther they are from her, the sooner that will be. There is no excuse for continuing to live with an adultress ; no inconvenience, no loss, no suffering, ought to deter a man from delivering himself from such a state of filthy infamy ; and to suffer his chil- dren to remain in such a state, is a crime that hardly admits of adequate description t b. jail is paradise compared with such a life, and ne who can endure this latter, from the fear of encountering hardship, is a wretch too despicable to go by the name of man. 206. But, now, all this supposes, that the husband has wdl and truly acted his part! It supposes, not only that he has been faithful ; but, that he has not, m any way, been the cause of temptation to the wife to be unfaithful. If he have been cold and neglect- A\ • 1 I'-) f ■ ■■< ! ' \ ' Pi m m it ■■^'' '111 ;(■ ■- .,:':! '. ik , ';^. IJi i y^:; :;*?,!■ iiin ' ^ :l .|l ^*lltil: .,ii;il|!ll'' 8 n '» te:|T ii,,., ■.11 Bljijii M.'l ■ ', I il 160 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter fill ; if he have led a life of irregularity : if he have proved to her that home was not his delight ; if he have made his house the place of resort for loose companions ; if he have given rise to a taste for visiting, junketting, parties of pleasure and gaiety; if he have introduced the habit of indulging in what are called " innocent freedoms ;" if these, or any of these, the^aMtt is his, he must take the consequences, and he has no right to inflict punishment on the of- fender, the offence being in fact of his own creating. The laws of God, as well as the laws of man, have given him all power in this respect : it is for him to use that power for the honour of his wife as well as for that of himself: if he neglect to use it, all the consequences ought to fall on him ; and, as far as my observation has gone, in nineteen out of twenty cases of infidelity in wives, the crimes have been fairly ascribable to tJie husbands. Folly or miscon- duct in the husband, cannot, indeed, justify or even palliate infidelity in the wife, whose very nature ought to make her recoil at the thought of the of- fence ; but it may, at the same time, deprive him of the riffht of inflicting punishment on her : her kin- dred, Tier children, and the world, will justly hold her in abhorrence : but the husband must hold his peace. 207. " Innocent freedoms .'" I know of none that a wife can indulge in. The words, as applied to the demeanour of a married woman, or even a single one, imply a contradiction. For freedom, thus used, means an exemption or departure from the strict rides of female reserve ; and, I do not see how this can be innocent. It may not amount to crime, in- deed ; but, still it is not innocent; and the use of the phrase is dangerous. If it had been my fortune to be yoked to a person, who liked " innocent freedoms," I should have unyoked myself in a very short time. But, to say the truth, it is all a man's own fault. If he have not sense and influence enough to prevent *' innocent freedoms," even before marriage, he will do well to let the thing alone, and leave wives to be [Letter if he have ght *, if he t for loose a taste for ind gaiety ; iiig in what , or any of iseqiiences, t on the of- vn creating. ' man, have s for him to fe as well as se it, all the as far as my t of twenty 3 have been f or miscon- tify or even very nature ht of the of- jrive him of 3r: her kin- l justly hold ist hold his ' none that a )plied to the ven a single in, thus used, Dm the strict see how this to crime, in- heuseofthe ly fortune to It freedoms," y short time, wn fault. If h to prevent riage, he will e wives to be IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 161 managed by those who have. But, men will talk to your wife, and flatter her. To be sure they will, if she be young and pretty ; and would you go and pull her away from them? O no, by no means ; but you must have very little sense, or must have made very little use of it, if her manner do not soon convince them that they employ their flattery in vain. 208. So much of a man's happiness and of his efficiency through life depends upon his mind being quite free from all anxieties of this sort, that too much care cannot be taken to guard against them ; and, I repeat, that the great preservation of all is, the young couple living as much as possible at home, and having as few visitors as possible. If they do not prefer the company of each other to that of all the world besides ; if either of them be weary of the company of the other ; if they do not, when sepa- rated by business or any other cause, think with pleasure of the time of meeting again, it is a bad omen. Pursue this course when young, and the very thought of jealousy will never come into your mind j and, if you do pursue it, and show by your deeds that you value your wife as you do your own life, you must be pretty nearly an idiot, if she do not think you to be the wisest man in the world. The best man she will be sure to think you, and she will never forgive any one that calls your talents or your wisdom in question. 209. Now, will you say that, if to be happy, nay, if to avoid misery and ruin in the married state, re- quires all these precautions, all these cares, to fail to any extent in any of which is to bring down on a man's head such fearful consequences; will you say that, if this be the case, it is better to remain single 7 If you should say this, it is my business to snow that you are in error. For, in the first place, it is against nature to suppose that children can cease to be born ; they must and will come ; and then it fol- lows, that they must come by promiscuous inter- course, or by particular connexion. The former no- body will contend for, seeing that it would put us, 14* i'f:„;i, w4 fit ■■'S ! , ' * :f.: 1 ' ■'' !|:;r '% in hv' I ■i'» ' 4- Xi ,«i nil.' -f p: ,1 ■ 5: ; ■i 1 ' ; ; ill' 162 COBBETT^S ADVICE [Letter in this respect, on a level with the brute creation. Then, as the connexion is to be particular, it must be during pleasure, or for the join^ lives of the par- ties. The former would seldom hold for any length of time : the tie would seldom be durable, and it would be feeble on account of its uncertain duration. Therefore, to be d^ father, with all the lasting andde- lightful ties attached to the name, you must first be a husband ; and there are very few men in the world who do not, first or last, desire to he fathers. If it be said, that marriage ought not to be for life, but that its duration ought to be subject to the will, the mu- tual will at least, of the parties ; the answer is, that it would seldom be of long duration. Every trifling dispute would lead to a separation ; a hasty word would be enough. Knowing that the engagement is for life, prevents disputes too ; it checks anger in its beginnings. Put a rigging horse into a field with a weak fence, and with captivating pasture on the other side, and he is continually trying to get out ; but, let the field be walled round, he makes the best of his hard fare, and divides his time between gra- zing and sleeping. Besides, there could be no fami- lies, no assemblages of persons worthy of that name; all would be confusion and indescribable intermix- ture : the names of brother and sister would hardly have a meaning ; and, therefore, there must be mar- riage, or there can be nothing worthy of the name of family or of father. 210. The cares and trembles of the married life are many ; but, are those of the single life few? Take the^rmer, and it is nearly the same with the tradesman ; but, take the farmer, for instance, and let him, at the age Of twenty-five, go into business unmarried. See his maid servants, probably rivals for his smiles, but certainly rivals in the charitable distribution of his victuals and drink amongst those of their own rank : behold their guardianship of his pork-tub, his bacon rack, his butter, cheese, milk, poultry, eggs, and all the rest of it : look at their care of all his household stuff, his blankets, sheets, [Letter I IV.] TO A HUSBANP. 163 •!U ) creation, r, it must )fthe par- any length 3le, and it a duration, ing and de • ast first be 1 the world TS. If it be fe, but that ill, the mu- «rer is, that rery trifling hasty word gagementis anger in its field with a ure on the to get out; kes the best etw^een gra- be no fami- f that name; le intermix- rould hardly nust be mar- )f the name married life le life fewl ime with the istance, and nto business 5bably rivals le charitable nongst those anshipofhis iheese, milk, ook at their ikets, sheets, pillow-cases, towels, knives and forks, and particu- larly of his crockery ware, c^ which last they will hardly exceed a single cart-load of broken bits in the year. And, how nicely they will get up and take care of his linen and other wearing apparel, and al- ways have it ready for him without his thinking about it ! If absent at market, or especially at a dis- tant fair, how scrupulously they will keep all their cronies out of his house, and what special care they will take of his cellar, more particularly that which holds the strong beer ! And his groceries and his spirits and his wine (for a bachelor can afford it), how safe these will all be ! Sachelors have not, in- deed, any more than married men, a security for health; but if our young farmer be sick, there are his couple of maids to take care of him, to adminis- ter his medicine, and to perform for him all other nameless offices, which in such a case are required ; and what is more, take care of every thing down stairs at the same time, especially his desk with the money in it ! Never will they, good-humoured girls as they are, scold him for coming home too late ; but, on the contrary, like him the better for it ; and if he have drunk a little too much, so much the bet- ter, for then he will sleep late in the morning, and when he comes out at last, he will find that his men have been so Imrd at work, and that all his animals have been taken such good care of! 211. Nonsense! a bare glance at the thing shows, that a farmer, above all men living, can never carry on his affairs with profit without a wife, or a mother, or a daughter, or some such person ; and mother and daughter imply matrimony. To be sure, a wife would cause some trouble, perhaps, to this young man. There might be the midwife and nurse to gal- lop after at midnight; there might be, and there ought to be, if called for, a little complaining of late hours ; but, good God ! what are these, and all the other troubles that could attend a married life ; what are they, compared to the one single circumstance of the want of a wife at your bedside during one .IV i r-^ ' . i I ^h»4 m ir^- n r : w? ''Ii|i;l iffl!:-" ' 1';|!Mi 164 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter single night of illness ! A nurse ! what is a nurse to do for you ? "Will she do the things that a wife will do ? Will she watch your looks and your half-utter- ed wishes? Will she use the urgent persuasions so often necessary to save life in such cases ? Will she, by her acts, convince you that it is not a toil, but a delight, to break her rest for your sake ? In short, now it is that you find that what the women them- selves say is strictly true, namely, that without wives, Tnen are poor helpless mortals. 212. As to the expense^ there is no comparison between that of a woman servant and a wife, in the house of a farmer or a tradesman. The wages of the former is not the expense ; it is the want of a com- mon interest with you, and this you can obtain in no one but a wife. But there are the children. I, lor my part, firmly believe that a farmer, married at twenty-five, and having ten children during the first ten years, would be able to save more money during these years, than a bachelor, of the same age, would be able to save, on the same farm, in a like space of time, he keeping only one maid servant. One single fit of illness, of two months' duration, might sweep away more than all the children would cost in the whole ten years, to say nothing of the continual waste and pillage, and the idleness, going on from the first day of the ten years to the last. 213. Besides, is the money all ? What a life to lead ! No one to talk to without going from home, or without getting some one to come to you ; no friend to sit and talk to : pleasant evenings to pass ! ! Nobody to share with you your sorrows or your plea- sures : no soul having a common interest with you : all around you taking care of themselves, and no care of you: no one to cheer you in moments of depression : to say all in a word, no one to lace you, and no prospect of ever seeing any such one to the end of your days. For, as to parents and brethren, if you have them, they have other and very differ- ent ties ; and, however laudable your feelings as son and brother, those feelings are of a different charac- [Letter a nurse to a wife will half-utter- juasions so ? Will she, 1 toil, but a In short, men them- ;hout wives, comparison wife, in the wages of the lit of a com- obtain in no Iren. I, lor , married at during the more money he same age, m, in a like aid servant, is' duration, ildren would thing of the eness, going D the last. VYioX a life to from home, to you ; no igs to pass ! ! or your plea- (St with you : ;lves, and no moments of e to love you, 3h one to the and brethren, d very differ- jelings as son ferent charac- IV.J TO A HUSBAND. 165 % ter. Then as to gratifications, from which you will hardly abstain altogether, are they generally of lit- tle expense ? and are they attended with no trouble, no vexation, no disappointment, no jealousy even, and are they never followed by shame or remorse ? 214. It does very well in bantering songs, to say that the bachelor's life is " devoid of care^ My ob- servation tells me the contrary, and reason concurs, in this regard, with experience. The bachelor has no one on whom he can in all cases rely. When he quits his home, he carries with him cares that are unknown to the married man. If, indeed, like the common soldier, he have merely a lodging-place, and a bundle of clothes, given in charge to some one, he may be at his ease ; but if he possess any thing of a home, he is never sure of its safety ; and this uncertainty is a great enemy to cheerfulness. And as to efficiency in life, how is the bachelor to equal the married man ? In the case of farmers and tradesmen, the latter have so clearly the advan- tage over the former, that one need hardly insist upon the point ; but it is, and must be, the same in all the situations of life. To provide for a wife and children is the greatest of all possible spurs to exer- tion. Many a man, naturally prone to idleness has become active and industrious when he saw child- ren growing up about him ; many a dull sluggard has become, if not a bright man, at least a bustling man, when roused to exertion by his love. Dry den's account of the change wrought in Cymon, is only a strong case of the kind. And, indeed, if a man will not exert himself for the sake of a wife and children, he can have no exertion in him ; or he must be deaf to all the dictates of natur^. 215. Perhaps the world never exhibited a more striking proof of the truth of this doctrine than that which is exhibited in me ; and I am sure that every one will say, without any hesitation, that a fourth part of the labours, I have performed, never would have been performed, if I had not been a warried nmn. In the first place, they could not ; for I should, !>f W-i I I ■ wm 'I ■ t ,: i>.:^^i !■ I :| . ^ :i:^,i'i i/'v; P' ■-- j IV :!!<;'.>:: I i t£a:!ii|pi|| 166 C0BBETT9 ADVICE LLetter all the early part of my life, have been rambling and roving about as most bachelors are. I should have had no home that I cared a stravs^ about, and should have wasted the far greater part of my time. The great affair of home being settled, having the home secured, I had leisure to employ my mind on things which it delighted in. I got rid at once of all cares, all anxieties^ and had only to provide for the very moderate wants of that home. But the children began to come. They sharpened my industry: they spurred me on. To be sure, I had other and strong motives : I wrote for fame, and was urged forward by ill-treatment, and by the desire to tri- umph over my enemies ; but, after all, a very large part of my nearly a hwidred volumes may be fairly ascribed to the wife and children. 216. I might have done something ; but, perhaps, not a thousandth part of what I have done ; not even a thousandth part : for the chances are, that I, being fond of a military life, should have ended my days ten or twenty years ago, in consequence of wounds, or fatigue, or, more likely in consequence of the persecutions of some haughty and insolent fool, whom nature had formed to black my shoes, and whom a system of corruption had made my commander. Lave came and rescued me from this state of horrible slavery ; placed the whole of my time at my own disposal ; made me as free as air ; removed every restraint upon the operations of my mind, naturally disposed to communicate its thoughts to others ; and gave me, for my leisure hours, a companion, who, though deprived of all opportunity of acquiring what is called learning, had so much good sense, so much useful knowledge, was so innocent, so just in all her ways, so pure in thought, word and deed, so disinterested, so gene- rous, so devoted to me and her children, so free from all disguise, and, withal, so beautiful and so talkative, and in a voice so sweet, so cheering, that I must, seeing the health and the capacity which it had pleased God to give me, have been a criniinal,'\i «)v LLetter I IV-l TO A HtSBAND. 167 nbling and lould have ind should ime. The the home d on things of all cares, Dr the very le children r industry: i other and was urged esire to tri- a very large lay be fairly 3Ut, perhaps, J done ; not 3S are, that 1, ve ended my isequence of consequence and insolent 5k my shoes, id made my le from this hole of my Is free as air; perations of municate its r my leisure sprived of all lied leammg^ \\ knowledge, s, 80 pure in Ited, so gene- Jldren, so free mtiful and so leering, that I [city which it a criwii'MiM^ I had done much less than that which I have done ; and I have always said, that if my country feel any gratitude for my labours, that gratitude is due to her full as much as to me. 217. " Ca7'€|/" What care have I known ! I have been buffetted about by this powerful and vindictive Government ; I have repeatedly had the fruit of my labour snatched away from me by it ; but I had a partner that never frowned, that was never me- lancholy, that never was subdued in spirit^ that never abated a smile, on these occasions, that for- tified me, and sustained me by her courageous ex- ample, and that was just as busy and as zealous in taking care of the remnant as she had been in taking care of the whole ; just as cheerful, and just as full of caresses, when brought down to a mean hired lodging, as when the mistress of a fine country house, with all its accompaniments ; and, whether from her words or her looks, no one could gather that she regretted the change. What " cares'^ have I had, then ? What have I had worthy of the name of "cares?" 218. And, how is it now ? How is it when the sixty-fourth year has come 1 And how should I have been without this wife and these children ? I might have amassed a tolerable heap of money ; but what would that have done for me ? It might have hovght me plenty of professions of attachment ; plenty of persons impatient for my exit from the world ; but not one single grain of sorrow, for any anguish that might have attended my approaching end. To me, no being in this world appears so wretched as an Old Bachelor, Those circumstances, those changes in his person and in his mind, which, in the hus- j band, increase rather than diminish the attentions to him, produce all the want of feeling attendant on disgust ; and he beholds, in the conduct of the mer- cenary crew that generally surround him, little [besides an eager desire to profit from that event, Ithe approach of which, nature makes a subject of Isorrow with him. :f ; -i- *' i i il'lt f: M ' ! J,tl I «'; ,, ■•■»i!ii; ■■■'in L' : ■*! I .1 ■ 168 cobbett's advice [Letter 219. Before I quit this part of my work, I cannot refrain from offering my opinion with regard to what is due from husband to wife, when the disposal of his property comes to be thought of. When mar- riage is an affair settled by deeds, contracts, and law- yers, the husband, being bound beforehand, has really no will to make. But where he has a will to make, and a faithful wife to leave behind him, it is his first duty to provide for her future well-being, to the utmost of his power. If she brought him no rmtiey^ she brought him her 'person ; and by delivering that up to him, she established a claim to his careful pro- tection of her to the end of her life. Some men think, or act as if they thought, that, if a wifie bring no money, and if the husband gain money by his business or profession, that money is his^ and not hers, because she has not been doing any of those things for which the money has been received. But is this way of thinking )ust 7 By the marriage vow, the husband endows tlie wife with all his worldly goods ; and not a bit too much is this, when she is giving him the command and possession of her per- son. But does she not help to acquire the imyticy ? Speaking, for instance, of trie farmer or the mer- chant, the wife does not, indeed, go to plough, or to look after the ploughing and sowing ; she does not purchase or sell the stock ; she does not go lo the fair or the market ; but she enables him to do all these without injury to his affairs at home ; she is the guardian of his propeity ; she preserves what would otherwise be lost to him. The bam and the granary, though they create nothing, have, in the bringing of food to our mouths, as much merit as the fields themselves. The wife does not, indeed, assist in the merchant's counting-house ; she does not go upon the exchange ; she does not even know what he is doing; but she keeps his house in order; she roars up his children ; she provides a scene of suitable resort for his friends ; she insures him a constant retreat from the fatigues of his affairs ; she [Letter , I cannot regard to e disposal i'^hen mar- i, and law- has really II to make, is his first ng, to the I no money ^ vering that 3aref ul pro- Some men I wife bring oney by his ,is, and not ny of those ceived. But arriage vow, his uorUly when she is 1 of her per- ! the money ? lor the mer- jlough, or to [she does not ,ot go 10 the [im to do all Lome ; she is ^serves what [bam and the have, in the ich merit as not, indeed, je ; she does >t even know ise in order ;^ ;s a scene of sures him a affairs ; she IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 169 makes his home pleasant, and she is the guardian of his income. 220. In both these cases, the wife helps to gain the money; and in cases where there is no gain, where the income is by descent, or is fixed, she helps to prevent it from being squandered away. It is, therefore, as much hers as it is the husband's ; and though the law gives him, in many cases, the power of keeping her share from her, no just man will ever avail himself of that power. With regard to the tying' up of widows from marrying again, I will relate 'what took place in a case of this kind, in America. A merchant, who had, during his mar- ried state, risen from poverty to very great riches, and who had, nevertheless, died at about forty years of age, left the whole of his property to his wife for her life, and at her disposal at her death, prwided that she did not marry. The consequence was, that she took a husband without marrying^ and, at her death (she having no children,) gave the whole of the property to the second husband ! So much for fosthumoits jealousy ! 221. Where there are children^ indeed, it is the duty of the husband to provide, in certain cases, against jtep-fathers, who are very prone not to be the most just and affectionate parents. It is an un- happy circumstance, when a dying father is com- pelled to have fears of this sort. There is seldom an apology to be offered for a mother that will hazard the happiness of her children by a second marriage. The law allows it, to be sure ; but there is, as Prior I says, " something beyond the letter of the law." I 1 know what ticklish ground I am treading on here ; jbut, though it is as lawfid for a woman to take a se- cond husband as for a man to take a second wife, the cases are different, and widely different, in the eye of morality and of reason ; for, as adultery in the wife is a greater offence than adultery in the Ihusband ; as it is more gross, as it includes prostitu- uion ; so a second marriage in the woman is more [gross than in the man, argues great deficiency in 15 S M ,11" ,....1 , 'J ' *i 'V*HS>' 1%/ $ Si, 1) ' i, i- ' ' 1 1 .' . ' r ".5 ^i MH: ^■i-'^'. V'- ill ■ 1 i m 170 COEBETT 8 ADVICE [Letter that ddicacy, that innaJte modesty, which, after all, is the great charm^ the charm of charms, in the fe- male sex. I do not like to hear a man talk of hia first wife, especially in the presence of a second ; but to hear a woman thus talk of her first husband^ has never, however beautiful and good she might be, failed to sink her in my estimation. I have, in such cases, never beeii able to keep out of my mind that conccUenation of ideas, which, in spite of custom, in spite of the frequency of the occurrence, leave an impression deeply disadvantageous to the party ; for, after the greatest of ingenuity has exhausted itself in the way of apology, i; comes to this at last, that the person has a second time undergone that surren- der, to which nothing but the most ardent affection, could ever reconcile a chaste and delicate woman. 222. The usual apologies, that "a lone woman "wants a protector; that she cannot manage her " estate ; that she cannot carry on her business ; that " she wants a home for her children ;" all these apologies are not worth a straw ; for what is the amount of them 7 Why, that she surrenders her person to secure these ends ! And if we admit the validity of such apologies, are we far from apologi- sing for the kept-mistress, and even the prostitute ? Nay, the former of these may (if she confine herself to one man) plead more boldly in her defence ; and even the latter may plead that hunger, which knows no law, and no decorum, and no delicacy. These unhappy, but justly-reprobated and despised parties, are allowed no apology at all: though red\:";dto the begging of their bread, the world grants them no excuse. The sentence on them is : " You shall suf- "fer every hardship; you shall submit to hunger "and nakedness ; you shall perish by the way-side, "rather than you shall surrender' your person to the " dishonour of the female sex?^ But can we, without crying injustice, pass this sentence upon them, and, at the same time hold it to be proper, decorous, and delicate, that widows shall surrender their perscm i'l ' 11., 5 'ii^lii M [Letter I IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 171 ch, after all, IS, in the fe- 1 talk of his second ; but iusband^ has e might be, lave, in such ly mind that if custom, in ice, leave an 16 party ; for, lausted itself } at last, that 3 that surren- lent affection, ite woman. , lone woman manage her nisiness ; that I i;" all these 1 what is the irrendei^s her we admit the from apologi- 16 prostitute! confine herself defence; and which knows cacy. These spised parties, jh redn" d to rants them no Vou shall suf- nit to hunger the way-side, person to the m we, without lon them, and, decorous, and their pei^sm for worldly gain^ for the sake of ease, or for any consideration whatsoever 1 223. It is disagreeable to contemplate the possi- bility of cases of separation ; but amongst the evils of life, such have occurred, and will occur ; and the injured parties, while they are sure to meet with the pity of all just persons, must console themselves that they have not merited their fate. In the making one's choice, no human foresight or prudence can, in all cases, guard against an unhappy result. There is one species of husbands to be occasionally met with in all countries, meriting pn ticular reprobation, and causing us to lament, that there is no law to punish offenders so enormous. There was a man in Pennsylvania, apparently a very amiable young man, having a good estate of his own, and marrying a most beautiful woman of his own age, of rich pa- rents, and of virtue perfectly spotless. He very soon took to both gaming and drinking (the last being the most fashionable vice of the country ;) he neglected his affairs and his family ; in about four years spent his estate, and became a dependent on his wife's father, together with his wife and three children. Even this would have been of little con- sequence, as far as related to expense ; but he led the most scandalous life, and was incessant in his demands of money for the purposes of that infa- mous life. All sorts of means were resorted to to reclaim him, and all in vain ; and the wretch, avail- ing himself of the pleading of his wife's affection, and of his power over the children more especially, continued for ten or twelve years to plunder the pa- rents, and to disgrace those whom it was his boun- den duty to assist in making happy. At last, going out in the dark, in a boat, and being partly drunk, he went to the bottom of the Delaware, and became food for otters or fishes, to the great joy of all who knew him, excepting only his amiable wife. I can form an idea of no baseness equal to this. There is more of baseness in this character than in that of the robber. The man who obtains the means of in- ! m 1 i'.i 'I' I': '(It] i i! i IM 172 COBBETT^S ADVICE [Letter dulging in vice, by robbery, • xposes himself to the inflictions of the law ; bui. ihc^jgti he merits punish- ment, he merits it less than .' u base miscreant who obtains his means by his threats to disgrace his own wife, children^ and the wife's parents. The short way in such a case, is the best ; set the wretch at defiance; resort to the strong arm of the law where- ever it will avail you ; drive him from your house like a mad dog; for, be assured, that a being so base and cruel is never to be reclaimed : all your efforts at persuasion are useless j his promises and vows are made but to be broken ; all your endeavours to keep the thing from the knowledge of the world, only prolong his plundering of you ; and many a tender father and mother have been ruined by such endeavours ; the whole story must come out at last^ and it is better to come out before you be ruined, than after your ruin is completed. 22-i. However, let me hope, that those who read this work will always be secure against evils like these ; let me hope, that the young men who read it will abstain from those vices which lead to such fatal results ; that they will, before they utter the mar- riage vow, duly reflect on the great duties that that vow imposes on them ; that they will repel, from the outset, every temptation to any thing tending to give pain to the defenceless persons whose love for them have placed them at their mercy ; and that they will imprint on their own minds this truth, that a had husband was never yet a happy nian. ^:m Hm' •mm m [Letter I V.] ^ TO A FATHER. in iseU to the :its punish- creant who ace his own The short 3 wretch at 1 law where- your house eing so base your efforts ;s and vows ideavours to »f the world, and many a ined by such e out at last^ I be ruined, se who read nst evils like II who read it to such fatal ter the mar- ^ties that that i repel, from ig tending to Lose love for ;y ; and that is truth, that LETTER V. TO A FATHER 225. " Little children," says the Scripture, " are '4ike arrows in the hands of the gianK and blessed "is the man that hath his quiver full^f them j" a beautiful figure to describe, in forcible terms, the support, the power, which a father derives from be- ing surrounded by a family. And what father, thus blessed, is there who does not feel, in this sort of support, a reliance which he feels in no other ? In regard to this sort of support there is no uncertain- ty, no doubts, no misgivings; it is yourself t\mt you see in your children: their bosoms are the safe re- pository of even the whispers of your mind : they are the great and unspeakable delight of your youth, the pride of your prime of life, and the props of your old age. They proceed from that love, the pleasures of which no tongue or pen can adequately describe, and the various blessings which they bring are equally incapable of description. 226. But, to make them blessings, you must act your part well ; for they may, by your neglect, your ill-treatment, your evil example, be made to be the contrary of blessings ; instead of pleasure, they may bring you pain ; instead of making your heart glad, the sight of them may make it sorrowful ; instead of being the staff of your old age, they may bring your gray hairs in grief to the grave. 227. It is, therefore, of the greatest importance, that you here act well your part, omitting nothing, even from the very beginning, tending to give you great and unceasing influence over their minds ; and, i above all things, to ensure, if possible, an ardent i tore oj their mother. Your first duty towards them is resolutely to prevent their drawing the means of life/row any breast hut hers. That is their otwi; it 15* (I' (' I .■ m i . 1 , n\im''m It ■ ■ f ! 174 cobbett's advice [Letter is their birth-ri^ht ; and if that fail from any natu- ral cause, the place of it ought to be supplied by those means which are frequently resorted to with- out employing a hireling breast. 1 am aware of the too frequent practice of the contrary ; I am well aware of the offence which I shall here give to many; but it is for me to do my duty, and to set, with re- gard to myself, consequences at defiance. 228. In tl'e first place, no food is so congenial to the child aslhe milk of its own mother ; its quality is made by na'.-ure to suit the age of the child ; it comes with the child, and is calculated precisely for its stomach. And, then, what sort of a mother must that be who can endure the thought of seeing her child at another breast ! The suckling may be at- tended with great pain, and it is so attended in many cases ; but this pain is a necessary consequence of pleasures foregone; and, besides, it has its accompany- ing pleasures too. No mother ever suffered more than my wife did from suckling her children. How many times have I seen her, when the child was begin- ning to draw, bite her lips while the tears ran down her cheeks ! Yet, having eno ired this, the smiles came and dried up the tears ; and the little thing that had caused the pain received abundant kisses as its punishment. 229. Why, now, did 1 not love her the more for this ? Did not this tend to rivet her to my heart? She was enduring Wiisforme; and would not this endearing thought have been wanting, if I had seen the baby at a breast that I had hired and paid for; if I had had tico women, one to bear the child and another to give it milk ? Of all the sights that this world affords, the most delightful in my eyes, even to an unconcerned spectator, is, a mother with her i clean and fat baby lugging at her breast, leaving off| now-and-then and smiling, and she, occasionally, half smothering it with kisses. What must tliatj sight be, then, to the father of the child ? 230. Besides, are ive to overlook the great andj wonderful effect that this has on the minds of chil" [Letter [ any natu- upplied by ed to with- ware of the , I am well veto many; set, with re- ./• congenial to ; its qnality he child ; it precisely for mother must )f seeing her r may be at- ided in many nseqnence of s accompany- red more than 1. How many Id was begm- 3ars ran down is, the smiles lile thing that kisses as its the more for to my heart? rould not this ,, if I had seen and paid for; Ithe child and 5ights that this Imy eyes, even Vher with her ist, leaving off ,, occasionally, (hat must that ild? the great and minds of chil- V.J TO A FATHER. 175 dren'? As they succeed each other, they see with their own eyes, the pain, the care, the caresses, which their mother has endured for, or bestowed, oh them; and nature bids them love her accordingly. To love her ardently becomes part of their very nature ; and when the time comes that her advice to them is ne- cessary as a guide for their conduct, this deep and early impression has all its natural weight, which must be wholly wanting if the child be banished to a hireling breast, and only brought at times into the presence of the mother, who is, in fact, no mother, or, at least, but half a one. The children wh i are thus banished, love (as is natural and just) the foster- mother better than the real mother as long as they are at the breast. AVlien this ceases, they are tongM to love their own mother most; but this teaching ia of a cold and fo.rial kind. They may, and generally do, in a short t-me, care little about the foster-mo- ther ; the teach' iigwGdLXis all their affection from her, but it does net transfer it to the c her. 231. I had the pleasure to know, in Hampshire, a lady who had brought up a family of ten children hi hand^ as they call it. Owing to some defect, she could not suckle her children ; but she wisely and heroically resolved, that her children should hang upon no other breast.^ and that she would not parti- cipate in the crime of robbing another child of its birthright, and, as is mostly the case, of itslife. Who has not seen these banished children, when brought and put into the arms of their mothers, screaming I to get from them, and stretch out their little hands to I get back into the arms of the nurse, and when safely got there, hugging the hireling as if her bosom were a place of refuge? Why, such a sight is, one would think, enough to strike a mother dead. And what sort of a husband and father, I want to know, must that be, who can endure the thought of his child loving another woman more than its own mother land his wife ? 232. And besides all these considerations, is there Ino crime in robbing the child of the nurse, and in l,v|,'''''^i ' '. ;t, ! §■ !k:*^ \'i miy :il:i I.! ■ ,■ i' ^1 1 \ ■'I i u .<■ ■|ir:,i nii-Hi:iif,::! ., 'i lilt ' |:„ U:l ' .! t, i f I ' 'i,' fM' 1, !■<•;, I ' ■ M in I , I ,1 1 '":j.l!(! llli ! I' Jilli iiP 1 ;■!' 176 COBBETT 3 ADVICE [Letter exposing it ta perish ? It will not do to say that the child of the nurse may be dead, and thereby leave her breast for the use of some other. Such cases must happen too seldom to be at all relied on; and, in- deed, every one must see, that generally speaking, there must be a child cast off for every one that is put to a hireling breast. Now, without supposing it possible, that the hireling will, in any case, contrive to get rid of her own child, every man who employs such hireling, must know, that he is exposing such child to destruction ; that he is assisting to rob it of the means of life; and, of course, assisting to pro- cure its death, as completely as a man can, in any case, assist in causing death by starvation ; a consi- deration which will make every just man in the world recoil at the thought of employing a hireling breast. For he is not to think of pacifying his con- science by saying, that he knows nothing about the hireling's child. He does know ; for he must know, that she has a child, and that he is a principal in robbing it of the means of life. He does not cast it off and leave it to perish himself, but he causes the thing to be done ; and to all intents and purposes, he is a principal in the cruel and cowardly crime. 233. And if an argument could possibly be yet wanting to the husband ; if his feelings were so stiff as still to remain unmoved, must not the wife be aware that whatever _/acc the world may put upon it, however custom may seem to bear her out; must she not be aware that every one must see the main Tnotive which induces her to banish from her arms that which has formed part of her own body ? All the pretences about her sore breasts and her want of strength are vain : nature says that she is to endure the pains as well as the pleasures : whoever has heard the bleating of the ewe for her lamb, and has seen her reconcUed, or at least pacified, by having presented to her the skin or some of the blood of her aead lamb : whoever has witnessed the difficulty of inducing either ewe or cow to give her milk to an alien young one: whoever has seen the valour of the f?^' LLetter I V.] 'i A FATHER. m I,, I' » say that the eby leave her I cases must on; and, in< lly speaking, y one that is ; supposing it :ase, contrive who employs ^posing such ig to rob it of sting to pro- n can, in any ion; a consi- t man in the ing a hireling fying his con- ing about the e must know, a principal in oes not cast it he causes the i purposes, he y crime, ssibly be yet [S were so stiff \i the wife be ly put upon it, ler out; must see the main rom her arms nbody? All id her want of e is to endure whoever has Iamb, and has ed, bv having le blood of her e difficulty of iv milk to an B valour of the timid hen in defending her brood, and has observed that she never swallows a morsel that is fit for her young, until they be amply satisfied : whoever has seen the wild birds, though, at other times, shunning even the distant approach of man, flying and scream- ing round his head, and exposing themselves to al- most certain death in defence of their nests : who- ever has seen these things, or any one of them must question the motive that can induce a mother to banish a child from her own breast to that of one who has already been so unnatural as to banish hers. And, in seeking for a motive sufficiently 'powerful to lead to such an act, women must excuse men, if they be not satisfied with the ordinary pretences ; they must excuse me, at any rate, if I do not stop even at love of ease and want of maternal affection, and if I express my fear, that, superadded to the unjustifiable motives, there is one which is calculated to excite disgust ; namely, a desire to be quickly freed from that restraint which the child imposes, and to hasten back, unbridled and undisfigured, to those enjoy- ments, to have an eagerness for which, or to wish to excite a desire for which, a really delicate woman will shudder at the thought of being suspected. 234. I am well aware of the hostility that I have here been exciting; but there is another, and still more furious, bull to take by the horns, and which would have been encountered somfi pages back (that being the proper place), had I not hesitated between my duty and my desire to avoid giving offence ; 1 [mean the employing of inale-opei'ators^ on those occasions where female^ used to be employed. And here I have every thing against me ; the now general custom, even amongst the most chaste and delicate women; the ridicule continually cast on old mid- wives ; the interest of a profession, for the members lof which I entertain more respect and regard than Ifor those of any other ; and, above all the rest, my \mn example to the contrary^ and my knowledge that Bvery husband has the same apology that I liad. But because I acted wrong myself, it is not less, but ra- * U . 1^^' * ^ \ il i' /v :/ it 1% *■ i ■ ty ■^r] 'M'' \^ I M R - iijriijiji ii'l 178 COBBETT'8 ADVICB [Letter I V.; ther more, my duty to endeavour to dissuade others from doing the same. My wife had suffered very severely with her second child, which, at last, was still-born. The next time I pleaded for the doctor; and, after every argument that I could think of, ob- tained a reluctant consent. Her life was so dear to me, that every thing else appeared as nothing. Every husband has the same apology to make j and thus, from the good, and not from the bad, feelings of men, the practice has become far too general, for me to hope even to narrow it j but, nevertheless, I camiot refrain from giving my opinion on the subject. 235. We are apt to talk in a very unceremonious style of our rude ancestors, of their ^ross habits, their want of delicacy in their language. No man shall ever make me believe, that those who reared the cathedral of Ely (which I saw the other day,) were rude, either in their manners or in their minds and words. No man shall make me believe, that our ancestors were a rude and beggarly race, when I read in an act of parliament, passed in the reign of Edward the Fourth, regulating the dresses of the different ranks of the people, and forbidding the LABOURERS to wear coats of cloth that cost more than two shilling's a yard, (equal to forty shillings of our present money,) and forbidding their wives I and daughters to wear sashes, or girdles, trimmed with gold or silver. No man shall make me believe that this was a rude and beggarly race, compared | with those who now shirk and shiver about in can- vass frocks and rotten cottons. Nor shall any man I persuade me that that was a Tnude and beggarly state of things, in which (reign of Edward the Third) an act was passed regulating the wages of labour, and ordering that a woman, for weeding in tiie crniA should receive a penny a day, while a quart ofrm wine was sold for a penny, and a pair of men's shoes, for two-pence. No man shall make me believe that agriculture was in a rude state, when an act like this was passed, or that our ancestors of that day were rude in their minds, or in their thoughts. In- 1 LLetter I ^J TO A FATHER. 179 i'^infeiil tuade others iflfered very , at last, was : the doctor; ihink of, ob- \s so dear to thing. Every e ; and thus, lings of men, ral, for me to [ess, I camiot subject, iceremonious frross habits, ige. No man 3 who reared 16 other day,) in their minds ilieve, that our race, when I n the reign of dresses of the forbidding the that cost rmt ^arty shiUirigs ig their wives .dies, trimmed lake me believe ace, compared r about in can- shall any man I beggarly stats [d the Third) an of labour, and r in tlte car% a quart of red of men's shoes, .le believe that en an act like ,rs of that day thoughts. In- deed, there are a thousand proofs, that, whether in regard to domestic or foreign affairs, whether in re- gard to internal freedom and happiness, or to weight in the world, England was at her zenith about the reign of Edward the Third. The jReformation, as it is called, gave her a complete pull down. She revived again in the reigns of the Stuarts, as far as related to internal affairs ; but the " Glorious Revo- lution" and its debts and its taxes, liave, amidst the false glare of new palaces, roads and canals, brought her down until she has become the land of domestic misery and of foreign impotence and contempt ; and, until she, amidst all her boasted improvements and refinements, tremblingly awaits her fall. 236. However, to return from this digression, rude mdi unrefined as our mothers might be, plain and unvarnished as they might be in their language, ac- customed as they might be to call things by their names, though they were not so very delicate as to use the word amaU-clotlies ; and to be quite unable^ in speaking of horn-cattle, horses, sheep, the canine race, and poultry, to designate them by their sexual appellations ; though they might not absolutely faint at hearing these appellations used by others ; rude and unr^ned and indelicate as they might be, they did not suffer, in the cases alluded to, the ap- proaches of men, which approaches are unceremoni- ously suffered, and even sought, by their polished and refined and delicate daughters ; and of unmar- ried men too, in many cases j and of very young men. 237. From all antiquity this office was allotted to vmnan, Moses's life was saved by the humanity of the Egyptian midwife ; and to the employment I of females in this memorable case, the world is pro- bably indebted for that which has been left it by that greatest of all law-givers, whose institutes, rude as they were, have been the foundation of all the wisest and most just laws in all the countries of Eu- rope and America. It was the fellow fediufr of tlie Imidwife for the poor mother that saved Moi^fs. [11 ■ 1 180 cobbett's advice [Letter ■^■'''■'U' u l^ ' ' IS 'I t ■ And none but a mother can, in such cases, feel to the full and effectual extent that which the operator ought to feel. She has been in the same state her- self; she knows more about the matter, except in cases of very rare occurrence, than any man, how- ever great his learning and experience, can ever kno .7. She knows all the previous symptoms ; she can judge more correctly than man can judge in such a case ; she can put questions to the party, which a man cannot put ; the communication be- tween the two is wholly without reserve ; the person of the one is given up to the other, as completely as her own is under her command. This never can be the case with a man-operator ; for, after all that can be said or done, the native feeling of women, in whatever rank of life, will, in these cases, restrain them from saying and doing, before a man, even be- fore a husband, many things which they ought to say and do. So that, perhaps, even with regard to the bare question of comparative safety to life, the midwife is the preferable person. 238. But safety to life is not ALL. The preserva- tion of life is not' to be preferred to EVERY THING. Ought not a man to prefer death to the commission of treason against his country ? Ought not a man to die, rather than save his life by the prostitution of his wife to a tyrant, who insists upon the one or the other ? Every man and every woman will answer m the affirmative to both these questions. There are then, cases when people ought to submit to cer- tain death. Surely then, the mere chance, the mere possibility of it, ought not to outweigh the mighty considerations on the other side ; ought not to over- come that inborn modesty, that sacved reserve as to tl'oirperso^s, which, asl said before, is the charm of charms of the female sex, and which our mo- thers, rudo as they were called by us, took, we may be satisfied, the best and most effectual means of | preserving. 239. But is there, after all, any thing real in this greater security for the life of either mother or I ^W. .;iJ [Letter J, feel to tlie tie operator e state Iter- f, except in man, how- e, can ever iptoins ; she lan judge in tlie party, mication be- i ; the person 3 completely lis never can after all that of women, in ases, restrain man, even be- liey ought to vith regard to ty to life, the The preserva- ERY THING. |e commission ht not a man [prostitution of the one or the in will answer ;tions. There submit to cer- nee, the mere rh the mighty X not to over- reserve as to is the charm hich our mo- took, we may Itual means of ig real in this ler mother or v.l TO A FATHER. 181 child 7 If, then, risk were so great as to call upon women to overcome this natural repugnance to suf- fer the approaches of a man, that risk must be general ; it must apply to all women ; and, further, It must, ever since the creation of man, always have so applied. Now, resorting to the employ- ment of Twe^-operators has not been in vogue in Europe more than about seventy years, and has not been general in England more than about thirty or forty years. So that the risk in employing m«id- wives must, of late years, have become vastly great- er than it was even when I was a boy, or the whole race must have been extinguished long ago. And, then, how puzzled we should be to account for the building of all the cathedrals, and all the churches, and the draining of all the marshes, and all the fens, more than a thousand years before the word " ac- coucheur^^ ever came from the lips of woman, and, before the thought came into her mind ? And here, even in the use of this word, we have a specimen of the refined delicacy of the present age ; here w© have, varnish the matter over how we may, modesty in the word and grossness in the ihovght. Farmers' wives, daughters, and maids, cannot now allude to, or hear named, without blushing, those affairs of I the homestead, which they, within my memory, used to talk about as freely as of milking or spin- ning ; but have they become more ideally modest than their mothers were'? Has this refinement made Ithem more continent than those rude mothers ? A Ijury at Westminster gave, about six years ago, da- mages to a man, calling himself a gentleman, jagainst a favmer, because the latter, for the purpose jfoi which such animals are kept, had a hull in his pard, on which the windows of the gentleman look- ed! The plaintiff alleged, that this was so offensive |[ohis wife and daughters, that, if the defendant were not compelled to desist, he should be obliged to ick up his windows, or to quit the house ! If I |iad been the father of these, at once, delicate and mous daughters, I would not have been the herald ^- 16 f* '1^ % r.:|* % i Hi fty- '''■' '41' ij! I 1 ,«., m. -^iMiijii 1 1, : 1 ,!' i ' i • ' ,'1 1 i , ■ li i. I y ■ ' 1(1' y i! 182 cobbett's advice [Lettcfr I V. of their purity of mind ; and if I had been the suitor of one of them, I would have taken care to give up the suit with all convenient speed ; for how could I rea- sonably have hoped ever to be able to prevail on deli- cacy, 80 exquisite J to commit itself to a pair of bridal sheets 1 In spite, however, of all this " refinement in the human mind," which is everlastingly dinned in our ears ; in spite of the " small-dothesj'^ and of all the other affected stuff, we have this conclusion, this indubitable proof of the falling off in real delica- cy ; namely, that common prostitutes, formerly un- known, now swarm in our towns, and are seldom wanting even in our villages ; and where there was one illegitimate child (including those coming be- fore the time) only fifty years ago, there are now twenty. 240. And who can say how far the employment of men, in the cases alluded to, may have assisted in producing this change, so disgraceful to the present age, and so injurious to the female sex ? The pro- stitution and the swarms of illegitimate children have a natural and inevitable tendency to lessen that respect, and that kind and indulgent feeling, which is due from all men to virtuous women. It is well known that the unworthy members of any profes- sion, calling, or rank in life, cause, by their acts, the whole body to sink in the general esteem ; it is well known that the habitual dishonesty of merchants I trading abroad, the habitual profligate behaviour of travellers from home, the frequent proofs of abject submission to tyrants ; it is well known that these may give the character of dishonesty, profligacy, or cowardice, to a whole nation. There are, doubtless, many men in Switzerland, who abhor the infamous | practices of men selling themselves, by whole regi- ments, to fight for any foreign state that will pay I them, no matter in what cause, and no matter whe- ther against their own parents or brethren; but the censure falls upon the whole natiwi : and " no Tnom/A no Swiss," is a proverb throughout the world. Itis,| amidst those scenes of prostitution and bastardy, [Letter I V.] TO A FATHER. I^ a the suitor • give up the could I rea- svail on deli- •air of bridal " refinement ngly dinned J/ies," and of ( conclusion, 1 real delica- formerly un- id are seldom jre there was 3 coming be- lere are now I employment Lve assisted in to the present X ? The pro- mate children to lessen that feeling, which en. It is well of any profes- their acts, the em; it is well of merchants e behaviour of roofs of abject own that these profligacy, or are, doubtless, the infamous )y whole regi- 5 that will pay 10 matter whe- thren; but the md " wo wioney, le world. It is, and bastardy, impossible for men in genera] to respect the female sex to the degree that they formerly did ; while numbers will be apt to adopt the unjust sentiment of the old bachelor, Pope, that ^^ every woman is^ at ^^heartj a rake?'' 241. Who knows, I say, in what degree the em- ployment of men-operators may have tended to produce this change, so injurious to the female sex ? Aye, and to encourage unfeeling and brutal men to propose that the dead bodies of females, if mar, should be sold for the purpose of exhibition and dis- section before an audience of men ; a proposition that our "ri«de ancestors" would have answered, not by words, but by blows ! Alas ! our women may talk of " small-clothes" as long as they please; they may blush to scarlet at hearing animals designated by their sexual appellations ; it may, to give the world a proof of our excessive modesty and delica- cy, even pass a law (indeed we have done it) to punish " an exposure of the person ;" but as long as our streets swarm with prostitutes, our asylums and prji/ate houses with bastards ; as long as we have wa«-operators in the delicate cases alluded to, and as long as the exhibiting of the dead body of a virtu- ous female before an audience of men shall not be punished by the law, and even with death ; as long as we shall appear to be satisfied in this state of things, it becomes us, at any rate, to be silent about purity of mind, improvement of manners, and an increase of refinement and delicacy. 242. This practice has brought the " doctor'''' into \every family in the kingdom, which is of itself no small evil. I am not thinking of the expense; for, incases like these, nothing in that way ought to be spared. If necessary to the safety of his wife, a man ought not only to part with his last shilling, but to Ipledge his future labour. But we all know that [there are imaginary ailments^ many of which are [absolutely created by the habit of talking with or about the '^ docto7\^^ Read the "Domestic Medi- BiNE," and by the time that you have done, you will Q ■ 'I ' I ■■r#' **(. 1 ^ i^ 1 1' 1;) si:. 1*! ; ' .' jKi iii kit :, 'i ' '■■' i WHw H|j ii '' ^f> ■ ' ' '1 i, " Ilfl^U Hill !i Ii *]' (■•■,. : In Ki ! i|i 1 . "■■ ' M '1 fli 1 iMI if lj:'M m II ill i-Mi' '19! ^'IraH IP 1 i i |g 1 1' 1 ir l;i| %. 184 C0!3BETT^S ADTICR [Utter imagine that you have, at times, all the diseases of which it treats. This practice has added to, has doubled, aye, has augmented, I verily believe, tenfold the number of the gentkmrn who fre, in common parlance, called ^^ doctors ;^'' at which, indeed, I, on my own private account, ought to rejoice ; for, m- variciblij 1 have, even \\\ the worst of times, found them every where amongst my staunchest and kind- est friends. But though these gentlemen are not to blame for this, any more than attorneys are for their increase in number ; and amongst these gentlemen, too, I have, with very few exceptions, always found eensible men and zealous friends ; though the par- ties pursuing these professions are not to blame ; though the increase of attorneys has arisen from the endless number and the complexity of the laws, and from the tenfold mass of crimes caused by poverty arising from oppressive taxation ; and though the increase of " doctors" has arisen from the diseases and the imaginary ailments arising from that effe- minate luxury which has been created by the draw- ing of wealth from the many, and giving it to the few ; and, as the lower classes will always endeavour to imitate the higher, so the " accoucheur^^ has, along with the " smaU-dotJies,'^^ descended from the loan- 1 monger's palace down to the hovel of the pauper, i there to take his fee out of the poor-rates ; though these parties are not to blame, the thing is not! less an evil. Both professions have lost in cha- racter, in proportion to the increase in the number! of its members; peaches, if they grew on hedges, would rank but little above the berries of the bram-| ble. 243. But to return once more to the matter o{risk\ of life ; can it be that nature has so ordered it, that, as a ff&ieral things the life of either mother or child! shall be in danger^ even if there were no attendant! at all ? Can this he 7 Certainly it cannot : safetn must be the rule, and danger the exception ; this! must be the case, or the world never could have been! peopled ; and^ perhaps, in ninety-nine cases out ofl v.] TO A FATHEIt. 185 i diseases of Ided to, has ieve, tenfold in common indeed, I, on (ice ; for, in- imes, found est and kind- 3n are not to are for their 56 gentlemen, ilways found lUgh the par- ol to blame; •isen from the the laws, and Bd by poverty id though the n the diseases •om that effe- by the draw- [ving it to the ays endeavour ' jwr" has, along from the loan- 1 of the pauper, ■rates; though thing is not „ lost in cha- n the number 3W on hedges, IS of thebram- 3 matter of risfc prdered it, that, tiother or child teno attendant [cannot: safem Exception -, this Wld have been le cases out of every hundred, if nature were left whoUp to Tierselfi all would be right. The great doctor, in these cases, is, comforting, consoling, cheering up. And who can perform this office like women 7 who have for these occasions a language and sentiments which seem to have been invented for the purpose ; and be they what they may as to general demeanour and character, they have all, upon these occasions, one common feeling, and that so amiable, so excellent, as to admit of no adequate description. They com- pletely forget, for the time, all rivalships, all squab- bles, all animosities, all hatred even ; every one feels as if it were her own part v. alar concern. 244. These, we may ' well assured, are the pro- per attendants on thes. isions ; the mother, the aunt, the sister, the cf \A female neighbour ; these are the suitable attendants, having some expe- rienced woman to afford extraordinary aid, if such be necessary ; and in the few cases where the pre- servation of life demands the surgeon's skill, he is always at hand. The contrary practice, which we got from the French, is not, however, so general in France as in England. We have outstripped all the world in this, as we have in every thing which pro- ceeds from luxury and effeminacy on the one hand, and from poverty on the other ; the millions have been stripped of their means to heap wealth on the thousands, and have been corrupted in manners, as well as in morals, by vicious examples set them by the possessors of that wealth. As reason says that the practice of which I complain cannot be cured without a total change in society, it would be pre- sumption in me to expect such cure from any efforts of mine. I therefore must content myself with hoping that such change will come, and with decla- ring, that if I had to live my life over again, I would act upon the opinions which I have thought it my jbounden duty here to state and endeavour to main- Itain. 245. Having gotten over these thorny places as uickly as possible, I gladly come back to the Bat 16* ^ *■■■■£' J "i.., i Ml I ■A t ,' ft ;: ' ' a -i^ #■ ,;r..l IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) C ^ y.. ^. r/> % 1.0 1.1 11.25 128 Um ■ 22 I!f 144 ■" 2.0 U 11.6 fljotogreqiiic Sciences Corporation <^ 23 WIST MAIN STRHT VtfllSTIR.N.Y. UStO (716) •73-4503 .« \ o^ ■fi " ni \ 1 ^ ^^Hhiif ^^^^^^^^^^^Hm ' % i ^^^KgH; 1 '"! I'ff' ^^^^^H^H f' 1 .^ ^^^^^^H^heH' . H \ ^^^^Bi'ik^ 1'; ■«■] ^^^^^Hr*' '! V f ^^^^^Hi '' ',■ ■' ^^■■^K i 1 '' . . W^^BKffeK\ i 1 '■■■ ' ,'■. ■ ^^l^p^^li-''' h! '.1 1 H^'^i^N '^ Hi it ill ^ ' ;■ ■ wfeli: ■''Ji^i:;! ■ lm§i3\ ^ ' mMh :'ii'' j'^ ' ■: . mr- v\ if";; • ':.■,, ■; , e-*- 1 : ^ Wt.'.'- ■.;,'■*• -> ■ P '': ''' ;l 1 , i' 1 . ' '1 . * id:' ■' ■;'i^' : ^ H ■^'^i'..' ' ■ k ■■ 1 ■1 rj. J M ' ■1 l-l ■ ' Pt~t-^-"-''l 'lit' ' ■ l^i^i ■■* '■IE ,' ' l;!'l>; ; #1 1 ' •■: ■ . Hlir ■ ■■ ■ 1 ■ Pl Br-it i; :;; yHB)^ 'ii''i .In-t^ if i ': 1 i Hl'';:':^;,! ,: 1 ' ^ 1 1 ii n 1 n m H L ' Ii i! I'i 11 11 . ji 186 COBBETT'S ADVICE LLetter BIBS ; with regard to whom I shall have no preju- dices, no affectation, no false pride, no sham fears to encounter ; every heart (except there be one made f>f flint) being with me here. " Then were there "brought unto him little children^ that he should put '* his hands on them, and pray : and the disciples re- " buked them. But Jesus said., Suffer little children, '*and forbid them not to come unto me; for of such ** is the kingdom of heaven." A figure most forcibly expressive of the character and beauty of innocence, and, at the same time, most aptly illustrative of the doctrine of regeneration. And where is the man ; the woman who is not fond of babies is not worthy the name ; but where is the man who does not feel his heart softened j who does not feel himself become gentler; who does not lose all the hardness of his temper ; when, in any way, for any purpose, or by any body, an appeal is made to him in behalf o{ these so helpless and so perfectly innocent little crea- tures 1 246. Shakspeare, who is cried up as the great in- terpreter of the human heart-, has said, that the man In whose soul there is no music, or love of music, i Is "fit for murders, treasons, stratagems, and spoils." *^ Our immortal bard," as the profligate Sheridan used to call him in public, while he laughed at him| in private ; our " immortal bard" seems to have for- gotten that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, were I Bung into the fiery furnace (made seven times hotter than usual) amidst the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, and dulcimer, and all kinds of music; he seems to have forgotten that it was a music and a dance-loving damsel that chose, as a recompense for her elegant performance, the bloody head of John the Baptist, brought to her in a charger ; he seems to have forgotten that, while Rome burned, Neroj fiddled : he did not know, perhaps, that cannibals al- ways dance and sing while their victims are roasting;! Imt he might have known, and he must have known,! that England's greatest tyrant, Henry VIII., had, as his agent in bloody Thomas Cromwell^ expressed it, ■^ *#' V 1^ -lUr.. m ILetter I V.} TO A FATHEB. 187 ive no preju- sham fears lo be one made sn were there he should put lC disciples re- Little children, e ; for of such most forcibly of innocence, strative of the 3 the man; the lot worthy the es not feel his imself become lardness of his purpose, or by m in behalf ol jcent little crea- as the great in- td, that the man love of music, ms, and spoils." ligate Sheridan laughed at him ims to have for- \bednego,were ven times hotter le cornet, flute, kinds of music; IS a music and a recompense for y head of John rger ; he seemsl e burned, Nero hat cannibals al- ms are roasting;| usthaveknown,! T VUI., had, M il, expressed It, < •i',:ij m:1 ■mn will forgive any thing but caUing her ngly: a very true maxim, perhaps, as applied to prostitutes, whe- ther in high or low life ; but a pretty long life of ob- servation has told me, that a nwther^ worthy of the name, will care little about what you say of her per- son, so that you will but extol the beauty of her ba- by. Her baby is always the very prettiest that ever was born ! It is always an eighth wonder of the world ! And thus it ought to be, or there would be a want of that wondrous attachment to it which is necessary to bear her up through all those cares and pains and toils inseparable from the preservation of its life and health. 249. It is, however, of the part which the husband has to act, in participating in these cares and toils, that I am now to speak. Let no man imagine that the world will despise him for helping to take care of his own child : thoughtless fools may attempt to ridicule ; the unfeeling few may join in the attempt; but all, whose good opinion is worthy having, will applaud his conduct, and will, in many cases, be dis- posed to repose confidence in him on that very ac- count. To say of a man, that he is fond of his family, is, of itself, to say that, in private life at least, he is I a good and trust-worthy man ; aye, and in public life too, pretty much ; for it is no easy matter to se- { parate the two characters ; and it is naturally con- cluded, that he who has been flagrantly wanting in] feelin]^ for his own flesh and blood, will not be very sensitive towards the rest of mankind. There is no- thing more an^iable, nothing more delightful to be- hold, than & : ysi' man especially taking part in the work of nurb*x.g the children ; and how often have I admired this in the labouring men in Hampshire! It is, indeed, generally the same all over England; and as to America, it would be deemed brutal for al man not to take his full share of these cares and lal hours. 250. The man who is to gain a living by his la| bour, must be drawn away from home, or, at lea from the cradle-side, in order to perform that labourij [Letter I V.] TO A FATHER. 180 gly; a very atutes, whe- nglifeofob- ortby of the y of her per- ty of her ba- tiest that ever ronder of the lere would be it which is LOse cares and reservation of >\ii\ie husband ares and toils, 1 imagine that ig to take care nay attempt to in the attempt; kiy having, will ly cases, be dis- ,n that very ac- ^d of his family, e at least, he is and in public jy matter to se- naturally coii- itly wanting in ivillnotbevery id. There is no- ielightful to be- 1 [king part in the [how often have in Hampshire! over England;' med brutal for a se cares andla- Iving by his la- We, or, at lea8t,| krm that labow but this wil! not, If he be made of good stuff, prevent him from doing his share of the duty due to his chil- dren. There are still many hours in the twenty-four, that he will have to spare for this duty ; and there ought to be no toils, no watchings, no breaking of rest, imposed by this dutj'^, of which he ought not to perform his full share, and that, too, without grudg- ing. This is strictly due from him in payment for the pleasures of the marriage state. What right has he to the sole possession of a wommi's person ; what right to a husband's vast authority ; what right to the honourable title and the boundless power oi father: what 7*ight has he to all, or any of these, unless he can found his claim on the faithful performance of all the duties which these titles imply 1 251. One great source of the unhappiness amongst mankind arises, however, from a neglect of these du- ties; but, as if by way of compensation for their privations, they are much more duly performed by the poor than by the rich. The fashion of the la- bouring people is this : the husband, when free from his toil in the fields, takes his share in the nursing, which he manifestly looks upon as a sort of reward for his labour. However distant from his cottage, his heart is always at that home towards which he is carried, at night, by limbs that feel not their weari- ness, being urged on by a heart anticipating the wel- come of those who attend him there. Those who have, [as I so many hundreds of times have, seen the la- urers in the woodland parts of Hampshire and lussex, coming, at night-fall, towards their cottage- ickets, laden with fuel for a day or two ; whoever as seen three or four little creatures looking out for he father's approach, running in to announce the ;lad tidings, and then scampering out to meet him, linging round his knees, or hanging on his skirts ; hoever has witnessed scenes like this, to witness hich has formed one of the greatest delights of my life, will hesitate long before he prefer a Hfe of ease b a life of labour ; before he prefer a communica- lion with children intercepted by servants and teach^ ',.t„ ■.\-:. -.-t.' 1: ; 'I ■(■>*{ ;'i •fa ' .1'-, 1 It' m ) i ' r '{ ! 190 COBBETT^S ADVICE LLetter ers to that communication which is here direct, and which admits not of any division of affection. 252. Then comes tJie Sunday ; and, amongst all those who keep no servants, a great deal depends on the manner in which the father employs that day. When there are two or three children, or even one child, the first thing, after llie breakfast (which is late on this day of rest) is to wash and dress the child or children. Then, while the mother is dress- ing the dinner, the father, being in the Sunday- clothes himself, takes care of the child or children. When dinner is over, the mother puts on her best ; and then all go to church, or, if that cannot be, whether from distance or other cause, ail pass the afternoon together. This used to be the way of hfe amongst the labouring people ; and from this way of life arose the most able and most moral peo- ple that the world ever saw, until grinding taxation took from them the means of obtaining a sufficiency of food and raiment ; plunged the whole, good and bad, into one indiscriminate mass, under the degra- ding and hateful name of paupers. 253. The working man, in whatever line, and whether in town or country, who spends his day oJ\ restf or any part of it, except in case of absolute necessity, away from his wife and children, is not | worthy of the name oi father^ and is seldom wor- thy of the trust of any employer. Such absence! argues a want of fatherly and of conjugal aflfection, which want is generally duly repaid by a similar! want in the neglected parties; and, though stern authority may command and enforce obedience for a while, the time soon comes when it will be set at{ defianee ; and when such a father, having no exam- ple, no proofs of love, to plead, complains of j!/tai| ingratitude, the silent indifference of his neighbours,! and which is more poignant, his own heart, will telij him that his complaint is unjust. 254. Thus far with regard to working people;! but much more necessary is it to inculcate thesel principles in the minds of young men in the middle . ^. lipids M ^Letter v.l TO A FATHER. 191 rank of life, and to be more particular, in their ease, with regard to the care due to very young children, for here servants come in ; and many are but too prone to think, that when they have handed their children over to well-paid and able servants, they have done their duty by them, than which there can hardly be a more mischievous error. The children of the poorer people are, in general, much fonder of their parents than those of the rich are of theirs : this fondness is reciprocal ; and the cause is, that the children of the former have, from their very birth, had a greater share than those of the latter — of the personal attention, and of the never-ceasing endearments of their parents. 255. I have before urged upon young married men, in the middle walks of life, to keep tlw servants out of the house as lon^ as possible ; and when they must come at last, when they must be had even to assist in taking care of children, let them be assist- ants in the most strict sense of the word ; let them not be confided in : let children never be left to them j^ ckne ; and the younger the child, the more necessa- line andl^* "Sid adherence to this rule. I shall be told, ndshiscioyqflPP^^^^pS) by some careless father, or some play- ^ qe of absolute ■Iia^'itiwg mother, that female servants are women, Mldren is not l^nd have the tender feelings of women. ^ Very true ; s seldom wot-1*'^^^) ^^ general, as good and kind in their nature as Such absence B^Jie mother herself. But they are not the mothers iuffal affection, (of your children, and it is not in nature that they d bv a similar Bshould have the care and anxiety adequate to the thoueh stern loecessity of the case. Out of the immediate care 'obedience foraWi^d personal superintendence of one or the other of will be set atP^e parents, or of some trusty relation, no young vine no examlf^ild ought to be suffered to be, if there be, at what- Dlains of /iiiair^'^ sacrifice of ease or of property, any possibility his neiehl)our9,wf preventing it ; because, to insure, if possible, the \ heart will tellwe^fect form, the straight limbs, the sound body, and ^ ' Blie sane mind of your children, is the very first of wkinff people ;P1 your duties. To provide fortunes for them ; to ^ lin^wate thesewake provision for their future fame ; to give them In in the middl«B*® learning necessary to the calling for which yoa I direct, and 3Ction. amongst all I depends on ys that day, or even one ist (which is tnd dress the ther is dress- the Sunday- L or children. J on her best ; at cannot be, e, all pass the 3 the way of and from this ost moral peo- iding taxation Lg a sufficiency tiole, good and ider the degra- -*. ■■ ■'\ft I; :j ) 1 ):. ,f ■ f *. 1^1 >,■ :!' r ,^1 '1 li.l I ■• .1) \< i^ '••!'i.'i^ li 'i- ii >:■■"' t »'"■•' ■ ■■ I ii'' 192 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter destine them : all these may be duties, and the last is a duty ; but a duty far greater than, and prior to, all these, is the duty of neglecting nothing within your power to insure them a sane mind in a sound and undefm^med body. And, good God ! how many are the instances of defoi med bodies, of crooked limbs, of idiocy, or of deplorable imbecility, pro- ceeding solely from young children being left to the care of servants ! One would imagine, that one single sight of this kind to be seen, or heard of, in a whole nation, would be sufficient to deter parents from the practice. And what, then, must those pa- rents feel, who have brought this life-long sorrowing on themselves ! When once the thing is done^ to repent is unavailing. And what is now the worth of all the ease and all the pleasures, to enjoy which the poor sufferer was abandoned to the care of ser- vants ! 256. What ! can I plead example, then, in support of this rigid precept ? Did we, who have bred up a family of children, and have had servants during the greater part of the time, nexier leave a young child to the care of servants ? Never ; no, not for one single hour. Were we, then, tied constantly to the house with them ? No ; for we sometimes took them out ; but one or the other of us was al- ways with them, until, in succession, they were able to take good care of themselves ; or until the elder ones werp able to take care of the younger, and then they sometimes stood sentinel in our stead.! How could we visit then ? Why, if both went, we bargained beforehand to take the children with us ; and if this were a thing not to be proposed, one of us went, and the other staid at home, the latter be- ing very frequently my lot. From this we never once deviated. We cast aside all consideration of conve- nience ; all calculations of expense ; all thoughts of pleasure of every sort. And, what could have equalled the reward that we have received for our care and for our unshaken resolution in this re«| spect ? v.l TO A FATHER. 193 and the last and prior to, thing within iin a sotmd \ how many , of crooked becility, pro- ng left to the ine, that one heard of, in a deter parents lUSt those pa- ing sorrowing ig is done^ to V the worth of ► enjoy which 16 care of ser- len, in support lave bred up a 3rvants during leave a young !r ; no, not for I constantly to we sometimes • of us ipcw? d- they were able vmtil the elder younger, and in our stead. both went, we Idren with us; oposed, one of the latter be- swenei?eronce ation of conve- all thoughts of ■at could have eceived for our on in thisre* 257. In the rearing of children, there is resolution wanting as well as tenderness. That paient is not tnily affectionate who wants the courcige to do that which is sure to give the child temporary pain. A great deal, in providing for the health and strength of children, depends upon their being duly and daily washed, when well, in cold water from head to foot. Their cries testify to what a degree they dislike this. They squall and kick and twist about at a fine rate ; and many mothers, too many, neglect this, partly from reluctance to encounter the squalling, and partly, and much too often, from what I will not call idleness^ but to which I cannot apply a milder term than neff- kct. Well and duly performed, it is an hour's good tight work ; for, besides the bodily labour, which is not very slight when the child gets to be five or six months old, there is the singbig^ to overpmcer the voice of the child. The moment the strippmg of the child used to begin, the singing used to begin, and the latter never ceased till the former had ceased* After having heard this go on with all my children, j Rousseau taught me the 'philosophy of it. I happen- ed, by accident, to look mto his Emile, and there I found him saying, that the nurse subdued the voice I of the child and made it quiet, hy drowning its voice mhers, and thereby making it perceive that it could \wt be heardj and that to continue to cry was of no mail. " Here, Nancy," said I, (going to her with |the book in my hand,) " you have been a preat phi- losopher all your life, without either of us know- I" ing it." A silent nurse is a poor soul. It is a great disadvantage to the childj if the mother be of a very iBilent, placid, quiet turn. The singing, the talking |to, the tossing and rolling about, that mothers in general practise, are very beneficial to the children : Ihey give them exercise, awaken their attention, an- mate them, and rouse them to action. It is very m to have a child even carried about by a dull, in- mimate, silont servant, who will never talk, sing or fhirrup to it ; who will but just carry it about, al- ways kept ill the same attitude, and seeing and hear- 17 Mi:ii| ?:• .4 y'k Jr'. 11- V ■ l;. ■ I ' ■ 1, ( i I- r. .S / )i i-S ••*: ! m ■iiii!/' .i \<\. |i::;!!; 194 COBBETT'3 ADVICE [Letter ing nothing to give it life and spirit. It requires no- thing but a duli creature like this, and the washing and dressing left to her, to give a child the rickets, and make it, instead of being a strong straight person, tup-shinned, bow-kneed, or hump-backed; besides other ailments not visible to the eye. By- and-by, when the deformity begins to appear, the doctor is called in, but it is too late : the miscnief is done ; and a few months of neglect are punished by a life of mortification and sorrow, not wholly unac< companied with shame. 258. It is, therefore, a very spurious kind of ten- demess that prevents a mother from doing the things which, though disagreeable to the child, are so ne- cessary to its lasting well-being. The washing daily in the morning is a great thing ; cold water winter or summer, and this never left to a servant, who has I not, in such a case, either the patience or the cour- age that is necessary for the task. When the wash- ing is over, and the child dressed in its day-clothes, how gay and cheerful it looks ! The exercise gives it appetite, and then disposes it to rest : and it sucks and sleeps and grows, the delight of all eyes, and particularly those of the parents. " I can't bear that squaUing P^ I have heard men say; and to which I answer, that "I can't bear such menn There are, I thank God, very few of them ; for, if I they do not always reason about the matter honestl nature teaches them to be considerate and indulgentl towards little creatures so innocent and so helplessl and so unconscious of what they do. And thel noise : after all, why should it distu7^h a man '? Hel knows the exact cause of it : he knows that it is the| unavoidable consequence of a great good to child, and of course to him : it lasts but an hour, and] the recompense instantly comes in the looks of the rosy child, and in the new hopes which every look excites. It never disturbed me, and my occupation was one of those most liable to disturbance by noise Many a score of papers have I written amidst thd noise of children, and in my whole life never bada m [Letter I V.l 70 A FATHER. 195 requires no- the washing i the rickets, >ong straight ump-backed ; he eye. By- ) appear, the tie misciiief 13 3 p\ inished by wliolly unac- s kind of ten- jing the things I lild, are so ne- 5 washing daily d water winter ^ant, who has BB or the coui- ihen the wash- its day-clothes, 3 exercise gives It : and it sucks f all eyes, and " I can't bear n say, and to ar such men."' f them ; for, i(| 5 matter honest .6 and indulgent and so helpless r do. And the rb a man '? Hel ws that it is the lat good to his but an hour, andj the looks of th( rhich every lool my occupatioi irbance by noisf itten amidst thi life never badi them be still. When they grew up to be big enough to gallop about the house, I have, in wet weather, when they could not go out, written the whole day amidst noise that would have made some authors half mad. It never annoyed me at all. But a Scotch piper, whom an old lady, who lived beside us at Brompton, used to pay to come and play a Umg tune every day, I was obliged to bribe into a breach of contract. That which you are pleased with^ how- ever noisy, does not disturb you. That which is indifferent to you has not more effect. The rattle of coaches, the clapper of a mill, the fall of water, leave your mind undisturbed. But the sound of the pipey awakening the idea of a lazy life of the piper, better paid than the labouring man, drew the mind aside from its pursuit ; and, as it really was a nuisaiicey oc- casioned by the money of my neighbour, I thought myself justified in abating it by the same sort of means. 259. The cradle is in poor families necessary j be- cause necessity compels the mother to get as much time as she can for her work, and a child can rock the cradle. At first we had a cradle ; and I rocked the cradle, in great part, during the time that I was writing my first work, that famous MaItre d'An- GLOis, which has long been the first book in Europe, as well as in America, for teaching of French peo- ple the English language. But we left off the use of the cradle as soon as possible. It causes sleep more, and oftener, than necessary : it saves trouble ; but to take trouble was our duty. After the second child, we had no cradle, however difficult at first to do without it. When I was not at my business, it |was generally my affair to put the child to sleep : )metimes by sitting with it in my arms, and some- |times by lying down on a bed with it, till it fell isleep. We soon found the good of this method. ""he children did not sleep so much, but they slept jore soundly. The cradle produces a sort of dos- m^ or dreaming sleep. This is a matter of great Importance, as every thing must be that has any in-f 1: * ,<' 'l»ll •.:;l^ lii'lH! \\:\ 1' > 1 ,f i A I I ■ I '.|i.K '7; i I 106 C0BBETT*8 ADTICE [Letter iluence on the health of children. The poor must use the cradle, at least until they haye other children big enough to hold the baby, and to put it to sleep ; and it is truly wonderful at how early an age they, either girls or boys, will do this business faithfully and well. You see them in the lanes, and on the skirts of woods and commons, lugging a baby about, when it sometimes weighs half as much as the nurse. The poor mother is frequently compelled, in order to help to get bread for her children, to go to a dis- tance from home, and leave the group, baby and all, to take care of the house and of themselves, the eld- est of four or five^ not, perhaps, above six or seven years old ; and it is quite surprising, that, consider- ing the millions of instances m which this is done in England, in the course of a year, so very, very few accidents or injuries arise from the practice ; and not a hundredth part so many as arise in the comparatively few instances in which children are left to the care of servants. In summer time you Bee these httle groups rolling about up the green, or amongst the heath, not far from the cottage, and at I a mile, perhaps, from any other dwelling, the dog their only protector. And what line and straight | and healthy and fearless and acute persons they be- come ! It used to be remarked in Philadelphia, when I I lived there, that there was not a single man of any| eminence, whether doctor, lawyer, merchant, trader, or any thing else, that had not been born and bredl in the country, and of parents in a low state of life. Examine London, and you will find it much about the same. From this very childhood they are from| necessity entrusted with the care ofsomethivg' valu- able. They practically learn to think, and to calcu-, late as to consequences. They are thus taught toj remember things ; and it is quite surprising what! memories they have, and how scrupulously a littlej carter-boy will deliver half-a-dozen messages, eachj of a different purport from the rest, to as many per-[ sons, all the messages committed to him at one and! the same time, and he not knowing one letter of thel Vm v.] TO A FATHER. W 3 poor must her children t it to sleep ; an age they, ss faithfully s, and on the a baby about, I as the nurse. led, in order ,0 go to a dis- baby and all, elves, the eld- e six or seven that, consider- i this is done so ver3%very the practice; as arise in the 1 children are imer time you p the green, or cottage, and at elling, the dog e and straight ersons they be- adelphia, when gle man of any erchant, trader, 1 born and bred ow state of life. it much about d they are from 8(meihing ro/w- ik, and to calcu thus taught to surprising what pulously a little messages, each to as many per- ) him at one and one letter of the alphabet from another. When I want io remember something, and am out in the field, and cannot write it down, I say to one of the men, or boys, come to me at such a time, and tell mc so and so. He is sure to do it ; and I therefore look upon the metnarari' dum as written down. One of these children, boy or girl, is much more worthy of being entrusted with the care of a baby, any body's baby, than a servant-maid with curled locks and with eyes rolling about for admirers. The locks and the rolling eyes, very nice, and, for aught I know, very proper things in themselves; but incompatible with the care of your baby, Ma'am ; her mind being absorbed in con- templating the interesting circumstances which are to precede her having a sweet baby of her own ; and a sweeter than yours, if you please, Ma'am ; or, at least, such will be her anticipations. And this is all right enough ; it is natural that she should think and feel thus; and knowing this, you are admonished that it is your bounden duty not to delegate this sa- cred trust to any body. 260. The courage, of which I have spoken, so necessary in the case of washing the children in spite of their screaming remonstrances, is, if possi- ble, more necessary in cases of illness, requiring the application of medicine, or of surgical means of cure. Here the heart is put to the test indeed ! Here is anguish to be endured by a mother, who has to force down the nauseous physic, or to apply the tormenting plaster ! Yet it is the mother, or the father, and more properly the former, who is to per- form this duty of exquisite pain. To no nurse, to no hireling, to no alien hand, ought, if possible to avoid it, this task to be committed. I do not admire those mothers who are too tender-hearted to inflict |this pain on their children, and who, therefore, leave ^t to be inflicted by others. Give me the mother who, hile the tears stream down her face, has the reso- lution scrupulously to execute, with her own hands, he doctor's commands. Will a servant, will any ireling, do this ? Committed to such hands, the 17* *^v A 'i.' io ,1' v^l mm y . Mrn'mMm. 3' w 19d cobbbtt's ADVrCB [Letter least trouble will be preferred to the greater: the thing will, in general, not be half done j and if done, the suffering from such hands is far greater in the mind of the child than if it came from the hands of the mother. In this case, above all others, there ought to be no delegation of the parental office. Here life or limb is at stake ; and the parent, man or woman, who, in any one point, can neglect his or her duty here, is unworthy of the name of parent. And here, as in all the other instances, where good- ness in the parents towards the children give such weight to their advice when the children grow up, what a motive to filial gratitude ! The children who are old enough to observe and remember, will wit- ness this proof of love and self-devotion in their mother. Each of them feels that she has done the same towards them all ; and they love her and ad- mire and revere her accordingly. 261. This is the place to state my opinions, and the result of my experience, with regard to that fearful disease the Small-Pox; a subject, too, toj which I have paid great attention. I was always, i from the very first mention of the thing, opposed | to the Cow-Pox scheme. If efficacious in prevent- ing the Small Pox, I objected to it merely on the I score of its beastliness. There are sonil3 things, surely, more hideous than death, and more resolute- ly to be avoided ; at any rate, more .to be avoided than the mere risk of suffering death. And, amongst other things, I always reckoned that of a parent causing the blood, and the diseased blood too, of a beast to be put into the veins of human beings, and those beings the children of that parent. I, there-l fore, as will be seen in the pages of the Register ofj that day, most strenuously opposed the giving ofl twenty thousand pounds to Jenner out of^e iaxrn paid in great part by the working people, which ll deemed and asserted to be a scandalous waste of the| public money. 262. I contended, that this beastly application €0\{ld notf in nature^ be efficacious in jTreventivg th V.J TO A FATHER. 199 SmaU'Pox; and that, even if efficacious for that purpose, it was wholly unnecessary. The truth of the former of these assertions has now been proved in thoiisands upon thousands of imtances. For a long time, for ten years^ the contrary was boldly and brazenly asserted. This nation is fond of quackery of all sorts ; and this particular quackery having been sanctioned by King, Lords and Commons, it spread ^over the country like a pestilence borne by the winds. Speedily sprang up the " ROYAL Jen- fierian Institution,'^^ and Branch Institutions, issuing from the parent trunk, set instantly to work, im- pregnating the veins of the rising and enlightened generation with the beastly matter. "Gentlemen and Ladies" made the commodity a pocket-compa- nion ; and if a cottager's child (in Hampshire at least,) even seen by them, on a common, were not pretty quick in taking to its heels, it had to carry off more or less of the disease of the cow. One would have thought, that one-half of the cows in England must have been tapped to get at such a quantity of the stuff. 263. In the midst of all this mad work, to which the doctors, after having found it in vain to resist, had yielded, the real smaU-pox, in its worst form, broke out in the town of Ringwood, in Hampshire, and carried off, I believe (I have not the account at hand,) more than a hundred persons, young and old, every one of whom had had the cow-pox " so nicely /" And what was now said ? Was the quackery ex-, ploded, and were the grantors of the twenty thou- sand pounds ashamed of what they had done ? Not at all : the failure was imputed to unskilful operor tors ; to the stateness of the matter: to its not being of the genuine quality. Admitting all this, the scheme stood condemned; for the great advantages held forth were, that any body might perform the operation, and that the matter was ecery where abun- mnt and cost-free. But these were paltry excuses ; the.mere shuffles of quackery ; for what do we know now ? Why, that in hundreds of instances, personi ■■m ■1 ■ I :res of others. ►X at a sclwol ; several other " vaccinf 'ed" youths who did the same, at the same time. ^ ackery, however, has always a sliuffle left. Now th*.c the cow-pox has been provfi to be no guarantee against the small-pox, it makes it " wilder^^ when it comes ! A pretty shuffle, indeed, this ! You are to be all yaii?' life in fear of it, having as your sole consolation, that when it comes (and it may overtake you in a camp^ or on the sea«), it will be ^^ milder P It was not too mild to kill at Ringwood, and its mildness, in the case of young Mr. CodW, (lid not restrain it from Uindhig him for a suitable number of days. I shall not easily forget the alarm and anxiety of the father and mother upon this oc- casion ; both of them the best of parents, and both of them now punished for having yielded to this fashionable quackery. I will not say, justly punish- ed ; for affection for their children, in which respect they were never surpassed by any parents on earth, was the cause of their listening to the danger-obvia- ting quackery. This, too, is the case with other pa- rents J but parents should be under the influence of reason and experience, as well as under that of af- fection ; and now, at any rate, they ought to set this really dangerous quackery at nought. 265. And, what does my own experience say on the other side ? There are my seven children, the sons as tall, or nearly so, as their father, and the daughters as tall as their mother; all, in due succes- sion, inoculated with the good old-fashioned face- tearing small-pox ; neither of them with a single mark of that disease on their skins ; neither of them having been, that we could perceive, ill for a single hour, in consequence of the inoculation. When we were in the United States, we observed that the Americans were nefver mar'ked with the small-pox ; or, if such a thingj were seen, it was very rarely. The cause we found to be, the universal practice of having the children inoculated at the breast, and, generally, at a month or six weeks old. When we came to have children, we did the same. I believe that some of ours have been a few months old when the operation ■ I" I ■rm 'I'liiifc't f\ ■ .' u:h':^ 1h I' '' 'if 1 ^ r:i-' 202 cobbett's advice LLetter has been performed, but always while at ihe breast^ and as early as possible after the expiration of six weeks from the birth ; sometimes put off a little While by some slight disorder in the child, or on ac- count of some circumstance or other ; but, with these exceptions, done at, or before, the end of six weeks from the birth, and always at the breast, AH is then pure .* there is nothing in either body or mind to favour the natural fury of the disease. We always took particular care about the source from which the infectious matter came. We employed medical men, in whom we could place perfect confidence : we had their solemn word for the matter coming from some healthy child; and, at last, we had sometimes to wait for this, the cow-afFair having rendered patients of this sort rather rare. 266. While the child has the small-pox, the mo- ther should abstain from food and drink, which she may require at other times, but which might be too gross just now. To suckle a hearty child requires good living ; for, besides that this is necessary to the mother, it is also necessary to the child. A little for- bearance, just at this time, is prudent; making the diet as simple as possible, and avoiding all violent agitation either of the body or the spirits ; avoiding too, if you can, very hot or very cold weather. 267. There is now, however, this inconvenience, that the far greater part of the present young women have been be-Jennered; so that they may catch tk beauty-killing disease from their babies ! To hear- ten them up, however, and more especially, I confess, to record a trait of maternal affection and of female heroism, which I have never heard of any thing to surpass, I have the pride to say, that my wife had eight children inoculated at her breast, and never had the small-pox in her life. I, at first, objected to the inoculating of the child, but she insisted upon it, and with so much pertinacity that I gave way, on condi- tion that she would be inoculated too. This was done with three or four of the children, I think, she always being reluctant to have it done, saying that it looked v.l TO A FATHER. 203 t the breast^ eitlon of six off a little Id, or on ac- ; but, with } end of six trecLst. All is ody or mind . We always im which the medical men, mce: we had ig from some Btimestoicaif d patients of -pox, the mo- ik, which she might be too child requires jcessary to the d. A little for- t; making the ing all violent rits; avoiding ireather. nconvenience, young women may catch tk es! To hear- iially, I confess, and of female f any thing to my wife had ,and7iei?er/iad objected to the ed upon it, and way, on condi- This was done ink, she always that it looked like distrusting the goodness of God. There was, to be sure, very little in this argument ; but the long experience wore away the ala*m; and there she is nwv, having had eight children hanging at her breast with that desolating disease in them, and she never having been affected by it from first to last. All her children know, of course, the risk that she volunta- rily incurred for them. They all have this indubi- table proof, that she valued their lives above her own ; and is it in nature, that they should ever wilfully do any thing to wound the heart of that mother ; and must not her bright example have great effect on their character and conduct ! Now, my opinion is, that the far greater part of English or American wo- men, if placed in the above circumstances, would do just the same thing ; and I do hope, that those, who have yet to be mothers, will seriously think of put- ting an end, as they have the power to do, to the dis- graceful and dangerous quackery, the evils of which I have so fully proved. 268. But there is, in the management of babies, something besides life, health, strength and beauty ; and something too, without which all these put to- gether are nothing worth ; and that is sanity of mind. There are, owing to various causes, some who are hcfrn ideots ; but a great many more become insane from the misconduct, or neglect, of parents j and, generally, from the children being committed to the care of servants. I knew, in Pennsylvania, a child, as fine, and as sprightly, and as intelligent a child as ever was born, made an ideot for life by being, when about three years old, shut into a dark closet, by a maid servant, in order to terrify it into silence. The thoughtless creature first menaced it with sending it to"f/ie badplace^" as the phrase is there; and, at last, to reduce it to silence, put it into the closet, shut the door, and went out of the room. She went back, in a few minutes, and found the child in a fit. It recovered from that, but was for life an ideot. When the parents, who had been out two days and two nights on a visit of pleasure, came home, they •■?'!^ HI: I I' mi 't . '*;, #■: I fiii; lii M: A hV'y ■'-*'iii Hi 204 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter were told that the child had had a Jit; but, they were not told the cause. The girl, however, who was a neighbour's daughter, being on her death-bed about ten years afterwards, could not die in peace without sending for the mother of the child (now be- come a young man) and asking forgiveness of her. The mother herself was, however, the greatest of- fender of the two : a whole lifetime of sorrow and of mortification was a punishment too light for her and her husband. Thousands upon thousands of human beings have been deprived of their senses by these and similar means. » 269. It is not long since that we read, in the news- papers, of a child being absolutely /cr/fed, at Birming- ham, I think it was, by being thus frightened. The parents had gone out into what is called an evening party. The servants, naturally enough, had their party at home ; and the mistress, who, by some un» expected accident, had been brought home at an early hour, finding the parlour full of company, ran up stairs to see about her child, about two or three years old. She found it with its eyes open, hutjixedj touching it, she found it inanimate. The doctor was sent for in vain : it was quite dead. The maid af- fected to know nothing of the cause ; but some one of the parties assembled discovered, pinned up to the curtains of the bed, a horrid Jtgure, made up partly of a frightful mask ! This, as the wretched girl confessed, had been done to keep the child quiet^ while she was with her company below. When one reflects on the anguish that the poor little thing must have endured, before the life was quite frightened out of it, one can find no terms sufficiently strong to express the abhorrence due to the perpetrator of this crime, which was, in fact, a cruel murder ; and, if it was beyond the reach of the law, it was so and is so, because, as in the cases of parricide, the law, in making no provision for punishment peculiarly se- vere, ha&, out of respect to human nature, supposed such crimes to be impossible. But if the girl was criminal ; if death, or a life of remorse, was her due, f [Letter I t,] TO A FATHER. 206 ; but, they vever, who r death-bed lie in peace id (now be- less of her. greatest of- sorrow and ight for her housands of eir senses by in the news- J,atBirmmg- itened. The ;d an evening igh, had their , by some un* ; home at an company, ran It two or three )en, hwXjixed; he doctor was The maid af- what was the due of her parents, and especially of the mother ! And what was the due of thefatherj who suffered that mother, and who, perhaps, tempt- ed her to neglect her most sacred duty I 270. If this poor child had been deprived of its mental faculties, instead of being deprived of its life, the cause would, in all likelihood, never have been discovered. The insanity would have been ascribed to " brain-feveTy^^ or to some other of the usual causes of insanity ; or, as in thousands upon thou- sands of instances, to some unaccountable cause. When I was, in Letter V., paragraphs from 227 to , 233, both inclusive, maintaining with all my might, I the unalienable right of the child to the milk of its mother, I omitted, amongst the evils arising from banishing the child from the mother's breast, to men- tion, or, rather, it had never occurred to me to men- jtion, the loss of reason to the poor, innocent crea- tures, thus banished. And now, as connected with this measure, I have an argument of ea^erience, enough to terrify every young man and woman up- on earth from the thought of committing this offence against nature. I wrote No. IX. at CAMBRmcE, on iSunday, the 28th of March ; and, before I quitted but some one ■Shrewsbury, on the 14th of May, the following pinned ^P ^^ P^^ts reached my ears. A very respectable trades- an, who, with his wife, have led a most industrious ■rV ' -Mre, made up the wretched ;he child quiet^ ,w. "When one tie thing must ite frightened ently strong to etratorofthis ;der; and, if it as so and is so, le, the law, m peculiarly se- Iture, supposed k the girl was [e, was her due, fife, in a town that it is not necessary to name, said a gentleman that told it to me : "I wish to God I "had read No. IX. of Mr. Cobbett's Advice to Younq *Men fifteen years ago !" He then related, that he pd had ten children, all put out to be suckled^ in con- equence of the necessity of his having the mo- ler's assistance to carry on his business ; and that out of the ten had come home ideots; though the est were all sane, and though insanity had never een known in the family of either father or mother! [hese parents, whom I myself saw, are very clever eopic, and the wife singularly industrious and ex- prt in her affairs. %|. Now the motive, in this case, unquestionably _ 1% ] i ■ ■ ''i' f* li l^:;:l^f 1 'I I . ..( 1 ■I is 1^ i^ f if • '«! •r-; mJ 41,: f''"" ill ^^1 206 •»« COBBETT's ADVICB iLettcr m bo tic T\ cal ho^ of froi 2 wh bod star sha] mer was good ; it was that the mother's valuable time might, as much as possible, be devoted to the earn- ing of a competence for her children. But, alas! what is this competence to these two unfortunate be- ings ! And what is the competence to the rest, when put in the scale against the mortification that they must, all their lives, suffer on account of the insani- ty of their brother and sister, exciting, as it must, in all their circle, and even in themselves^ suspicions of their own perfect soundness of mind ! When weighed against this consideration, what is all the wealth in the world ! And as to the parents, where j are they to find compensation for such a calamity, j embittered additionally, too, by the reflection, that it was in their power to prevent it, and that nature, I with loud voice, cried out to them to prevent itllbe Money ! Wealth acquired in consequence of this I than banishment of these poor children j these victims of ■ Eva this, I will not call it avarice, but over-eager love of I mus gain ! wealth thus acquired ! What wealth can con-i gard sole these parents for the loss of reason in these! hors children ! Where is the father and the mother, who! j«w^i would not rather see their children ploughing inithey other men's fields, and sweeping other men's houses,! have than led about parks or houses of their own, objects! Eng] of pity even of the menials procured by their! and wealth 1 272. If what I have now said be not sufficient ti deter a man from suffering any consideration, matter whatj to induce him to delegate the care oi his children, when very young, to any body whom- soever, nothing that I can say can possibly have thai effect ; and I will, therefore, now proceed to offei my advice with regarc^ to the management of chil- dren when they get beyond the danger of being era zed or killed by nurses or servants. 273. We here come to the subject of education i the true sense of that word, which is rearing «/), seeing that the word comes from the Latin Mml which means to breed up, or to rear up. I shall, awall, ]^ terwardB, have to speak of education 'n\ the now coin#oldes '■^ hors( us St fine; 27f the A land s Iforefa nth( Inglj ew m . ml tount LLetteri v.] TO A FATHER. 307 mon acceptation of the word, which makes it mean, book-learning'. At present, I am to speak of educa- Hon in its true sense, as the French (who, as well as we, take the word from the Latin) always use it. They, in their agricultural works, talk of the " edu- cation du Cochon, de PAllouette, &c.," that is of the hf^^ the /arJt, and so of other animals ; that is to say, of the manner of breeding them, or rearing them up, from their being little things 'till they be of full size. 274. The first thing, in the rearing of children, who have passed from the baby-state, is, as to the body, plenty of good food ; and, as to the miwd, con- stant good example m the parents. Of the latter I ^^^^ shall speak more by-and-by. With regard to the for- ^d" that nature,! nier, it is of the greatest importance, that children to prevent it 1 1 be well fed; and there never was a greater error jQuence of this I than to .jelieve that they do not need good food, these victims of I Every one knows, that to have fine horses, the cdta er-eager love of I must be kept well, and that it is the same with re- wealth cancon-1 gard to all animals of every sort and kind. The fine •eason in these! horses and cattle and sheep all come from the rich the mother, who! pstures. To have them fine, it is not sufficient that n ploughing inlthey have plenty ^food when young, but that they er men's houses,! have rich food. Were there no land, no pasture, in leir own objects! England, but such as is found in Middlesex, Essex, cured by theirf"" ^ ^'"' ^ ^^— i- valuable time d to the earn- i. But, alas! nfortunate be- khe rest, when tion that they of the insani- \g, as it must, ues, suspicions mind I When vhat is all the parents, where ich a calamity, jflection, thatitl not sufficient i lonsideration, % rate the care o: and Surrey, we should see none of those coach- horses and dray-horses, whose height and size make us stare. It is the keep when young that makes the fine animal. 275. There is no other reason for the people in nv^hody w/iom-lthe American States bemg generally so much taller ssibly have thatland stronger than the people in England are. Their roceed to offejforefathers went, for the greater part, from England, gement of chil#n the four Northern States they went wholly from er of being cra-fngland, and then, on their landing, they founded a Jew London, a new Falmouth, a new Plymouth, a It of education iiftew Portsmouth, a new Dover, a new Yarmouth, a is rearing ttpj^w Lynn, a new Boston, and a new Hull, and the he Latin edMCO^^wtry itself they called, and their descendants still I shall,8f»aW) New England. This country of the best and inthenowcoDw^^^est seamen, and of the most moral and happy !il. *» 1 ii t'.! ..■ 206 COBBETT^S ADVICB [Letter i.Mi j - r*iy people in the world, is also the country * the tallest and ablest-bodied men in the world. And why ? Because, from their very birth, they have an (Aun- dance of good food ; not only oifiod, but of rich food. Even when the child is at the breast, a strip of beef-steak, or something of that description, as big and as long as one's finger, is put into its hand. When a baby gets a thing in its hand, the first thing It does is to poke some part of it into its mouth. It cannot bite the meat, but its gums squeeze out the juice. When it has done with the breast, it eats meat constantly twice, if not thrice, a day. And this abundance of good food is the cause, to be sure, of the superior size and strength of the people of that country. 276. Nor is this, in any point of view, an unim- portant matter. A tall man is, whether as labourer, carpenter, bricklayer, soldier or sailor, or almost anything else, worth more than a short man : he can look over a higher thing ; he can reach higher and wider ; he can move on from place to place faster ; in mowing grass or corn he takes a wider swarth, in | pitching he wants a shorter prong ; in making buil- dings he does not so soon want a ladder or a scaf- 1 fold ; in fighting he keeps his body farther from the point of his sword. To be sure, a man may be tall and weak : but, this is the exception and not the rule : height and weight and strength, in men as in speechless animals, generally go together. Aye, and in enterprise and courage too, the powers of the body have a great deal to do. Doubtless there are,! have been, and always will be, great numbers ofl small and enterprizing and brave men ; but it is mi\ in nature, that, generally speaking, those who are! conscious of their inferiority in point of bodilyl strength, should possess the boldness of those who| have a contrary description. 277. To what but this difference in the size andl strength of the opposing combatants are we to as-l cribe the ever-to-be-blushed-^at events of our last warl against the United States ! The hearts of our sea*! 'I! [Letter I V.] TO A FATHER. 209 t ' the tallest And why? ave an abun- , but of rich breast, a strip escription, as into its hand, the first thing its mouth. It ueeze out the breast, it eats , a day. And ise, to be sure, the people of iew, an unim- ler as labourer, lor, or almost rtman: he can ich higher and to place faster; tider 8warth,in n making buil- adder or a scaf- arther from the lan woybetall m and not the thj in men as in ogether. Aye, le powers of the rtless there are, eat numbers of en; but it is no( those who are 3oint of bodily ss of those who _, In the size and ts are we to as- 9 of our last war larts of our sea- men and soldiers were as good as those of the Yan- kees : on both sides they had sprung from the same stock : on both sides equally well supplied with all the materials of war : if on either side, the superior skill was on ours : French, Dutch, Spaniards, all had confessed our superior prowess : yet, when, with our whole undivided strength, and to that strength add- ing the flush and pride of victory and conquest, crowned even in the capital of France j when, with all these tremendous advantages, and with all the nations of the earth looking on, we came foot to foot and yard-arm to yard-arm witii the Americans, the result was such as an English pen refuses to describe. What, then, was the great cause of this result, which filled us with shame and the world with as- tonishment 1 Not the want of courage in our men. There were, indeed, some moral causes at work ; but the main cause was, the great superiority of size and of bodily strength on the part of the enemy's sol- diers and sailors. It was so many men on each side ; but it was men of a different size and strength ; and, on the side of the foe men accustomed to daring en- terprise from a consciousness of that strength. 278. Why are abstinence and fasting enjoined by the Catholic Church ? Why, to make men humble, meek, and tame ; and they have this effect too : this is visible in whole nations as well as in individuals. So that good food, and plenty of it, is not more ne- cessary to the forming of a stout and able body than to the forming of an active and enterprizing spirit. Poor food, short allowance, while they check the growth of the child's body, check also the dar- ing of the mind ; and, therefore, the starving or pinching system ought to be avoided by all means. I Children shpuld eat ofteriy and as much as they like at a time. They will, if at full heap, never take, of miin food, more than it is good for them to take. They may, indeed, be stuffed with cakes and sweet \thinffs till they be ill, and, indeed, until they bring |on dangerous disorders : but, of meat plainly and T cooked, and of bread, they will never swallow 18* !' r I \\\ 1 1'^ < 4 !'■ " ^^^^^^Bi'''l 1 m»'\ ' < HH^'i ■ ' i ^^H^JhW ' # ' f i ■H^- :•,, Ti I P ( '■ ■• 1 1 ^fe i-^n : ,.::.'rh , ■ r. }:>■ r -t». 210 cobbett's advicb [Letter . the tenth part of an ounce more than it is necessary for them to swallow. Ripe fruit, or cooked fruit, if no sweetenirjg take place, will never hurt them ; but, when they once get a taste for sugary stuff, and to cram down loads of garden vegetables ; when ices, creams, tarts, raisins, almonds, all the endless pam- perings come, the doctor must soon follow with his drugs. The blowing out of the bodies of children * with tea, coffee, soup, or warm liquids of any kind, is very bad : these have an effect precisely like that which is produced by feeding young rabbits, or pigs, or other young animals upon watery vegetables : it makes them big-bellied and bareboned at the same time ; and it effectually prevents the frame from be- coming strong. Children in health want no drink other than skim milk, or butter-milk, or whey ; and, if none of those be at hand, water will do very well, provided they have plenty of good meat. Cheese and butter do very well for part of the day. Pud- dings and pies ; but always without augar^ which, say what people will about the wholesomenesa of it, is not only of no use in the rearing of children, but I injurious : it forces an appetite : like strong drink, \ it makes daily encroachments on the taste : it whee- dles down that which the stomach does not want : it I finally produces illness : it is one of the curses of the country ; for it, by taking off the bitter of thef tea and coffee, is the great cause of sending down into the stomach those quantities of warm water by which the body is debilitated and deformed and the mind enfeebled. I am addressing myself to personal in the middle walk of life ; but no parent can be sunl that his child will not be compelled to labour hardl for its daily bread : and then, how vast is the differ-[ €nce between one who has been pampered with! sweets and one who has been reared on plain foodi and simple drink ! 279. The next thing after good and p>lentiful andl plain food is good air. This is not within the reachl of every one ; but, to obtain it is worth great sacri-r fices in other respects. We know that there arei [Letter I VJ '"*)* TO A FATHER. tsn , Is necessary )oked fruit, if rt them j but, ^ stuff, and to i; when ices, endless pam- llow with his es of children J of any kind, wisely like that abbits, or pigs, vegetables: it ed at the same frame from be- want no drink or whey ; and, 11 do very well, meat. Cheese the day. Ptid- sugar^ which, €8(ymene8S of it, Df children, but 3 strong drink, J taste: itwhee- oes not want: it I ►f the curses of le bitter of the if sending down warm water by eformed and the lyself to persons irent can be mm ito labour hard vast is the differ- pampered withl ed on plain foodi dnd plentiful and within the reach irorth great sacril w that there are tmdls which will cause instant death ; we know, that there are others which will cause death in afem years ; and, therefore, we know that it is the mity of parents to provide, if possible, against this dan- ger to the health of their oflfspring. To be sure, when a man is so situated that he cannot give his children sweet air without putting himself into a jail for debt : when, in short, he has the dire choice of sickly children, children with big heads, small limbs, and ricketty joints : or children sent to the poor- house : when this is his hard lot, he must decide for the former sad alternative : but before he will con- vince me that this is his lot, he must prove to me, that he and his wife expend not a penny in the de- coration of their persons ; that on his table, morn- ing, noon, or night, nothing ever comes that is not the produce of English soil; that of his time not one hour is wasted in what is called pleasure ; that down his throat not one drop or morsel ever goes, unless necessary to sustain life and health. How many scores and how many hundreds of men have I seen ; how many thousands could I go and point out, to-morrow, in London, the money expended on whose guzzlings in porter, grog and wine, would keep, and keep well, in the country, a considerable part of the year, a wife surrounded by healthy chil- dren, instead of being stewed up in some alley, or back room, with a parcel of poor creatures about her, whom she, though their fond mother, is almost ashamed to call hers ! Compared with the life of such a woman, that of the labourer, however poor, is paradise. Tell me not of the necessity of provi- ding money for them, even if you waste not a far- thing : you can provide them with no money equal in value to health and straight limbs and good looks : these it is, if within your power, your bmtnden duty to provide for them : as to providmg them with mo- ney, you deceive yourself ; it is your own avarice^ or vanity, that you are seeking to gratify, nnd not to ensure the good of your children. Their most precious possession is health and strength ; and you '1' ,\ I 212 cobbett's advice [Letter ! :r ( f: ii \\: . ! ■■■^! ■H/i \ ;*■>' ''! . il"'^'^ t » have no right to run the risk of depriving them of these for the sake of heaping together money to bestow on them : you have the desire to see them rich : it is to gratify yourself thsX you act in such a case ; and you, however you may deceive yourself, are guilty oiinjustice towards them. You would be ashamed to see them wUJwut fortune ; but not at all ashamed to see them without straight limbs, with- out colour in their cheeks, without strength, without activity, and with only half their due portion of reason. 280. Besides sweet air^ children want exercise. Even when they are babies in arms, they want toss- ing and pulling about, and want talking and singing to. They should be put upon their feet by slow degrees, according to the strength of their legs: and this is a matter which a good mother will at- tend to with incessant care. If they appear to be likely to squint^ she will, always when they wake up, and frequently in the day. take care to present some pleasing object right he/ore^ and never on th side of their fece. If they appear, when they begin to tidk, to indicate a propensity to stammer^ she will stop them, repeat the word or words slowly herself, and get them to do the same. These pre- cautions are amongst the most sacred of the duties of parents ; for, remember, the deformity is^ life; a thought which will fill every good parent's heart with solicitude. All swaddling and tig^ht covering are mischievous. They produce distortions of some sort or other. To let children creep and roll about till they get upon their legs themselves is a very good way. I never saw a native American with crooked limbs or hump-back, and never heard any man say that he had seen one. And the reason is, doubtless, the loose dress in which children, from the moment of their birth, are kept, the good food that they always have, and the sweet air that they breathe in consequence of the absence of all dread of poverty on the part of the parents. 281. As to bodily exercise, they will, when they [Letter I V.| TO A FATHER. S13 iring them of er money to to see them act in such a }ive yourself, ^ou would be but not at all t limbs, witli- ngth, without le portion of vant exercise. ley want toss- ig and singing feet by slow of their legs: nother will at- y appear to be len they wake care to present id never on the Eien they begin stammer^ she words slowly e. These pre- d of the duties nity is for life; 1 parent's heart tight covering ortions of some ) and roll about 3lves is a very American with iver heard any 1 the reason is, ildren, from the good food that lat they breathe read of poverty will, when they begin to get about, take, if you let them alone^ Just as much of it as nature bids them, and no more. That is a pretty deal. Indeed, if they be in health ; and, it is your duty, now, to provide for their ta- king of that exercise, when they begin to be what are called boys and girls, in a way that shall tend to give them the greatest degree of pleasure, accompa- nied with the smallest risk of pain : in other words, to make their lives as pleasant as you possibly can, I have always admired the sentiment of Rousseau upon this subject. " The boy dies, perhaps, at the age of " ten or twelve. Of what use, then, all the restraints, " all the privations, all the pain, that you have in- "flicted upon him? He falls, and leaves your " mind to brood over the possibility of your having " abridged a life so dear to you." I do not recollect the very words ; but the passage made a deep im- pression upon my mind, just at the time, too, when I was about to become a father ; and I was resolved never to bring upon myself remorse from such a cause; a resolution from which no importunities, coming from what quarter they might, ever induced me, in one single instance, or for one single moment, to depart. I was resolved to forego all the means of making money, all the means of living in any thing like fashion, all the means of obtaining fame or dis- tinction, to give up every thing, to become a com- mon labourer, rather than make my children lead a life of restraint and rebuke ; I could not be sure that my children would love me as they loved their own lives ; but I was, at any rate, resolved to deserve such love at their hands ; and, in possession of that, I felt that I could set calamity, of whatever descrip- tion, at defiance. 282. Now, proceeding to relate what was, in this respect, my line of conduct, I am not pretending that every man, and particularly every man living in a town, can, in all respects, do as I did in the rear- ing up of children. But, in many respects, any man may, whatever may be his state of life. For I did not lead an idle life j I had to work constantly m M ryu ,::1 f Mi Wmi li In H fll m 1 ■■ m^i mTOf^'ll |t-' ' K^^Bu^'* m i-' I l^^^pMl .1 . ^R^f^^'^' 1 pidp'|u ^'1 I' ,^m^,'t ''•i V'W • 1 , 1 ■J 1:1 '; I 214 cobbett's advice [Letter for the means of living; my occupation required unremitted attention ; I had nothing but my labour to rely on ; and I had no friend, to whom, in case of need, I could fly for assistance : I always saw the possibility, and even the probability, of being totally ruined by the hand of power ; but, happen what would, I was resolved, that, as long as I could cause them to do it, ray children should lead happy lives ; and happy lives they did lead, if ever children did in this whole world. 283. The first thing that T did, when the fourth child had come, was to get into the country, and so far as to render a going backward and forward to London, at short intervals, quite out of the question. Thus was health, the greatest of all things, provided for, as far as I was able to make the provision. Next. my being always at home was secured as far as pos- sible; always with them to set an example of early rising, sobriety, and application to something or other. Children, and especially boys, will have some-out-of-doors pursuits ; and it was my duty to lead them to choose such pursuits as combined fu- ture utility with present innocence. Each his flower-bed, little garden, plantation of trees ; rabbits, dogs, asses, horses, pheasants and hares; hoe?, spades, whips, guns ; always some object of lively interest, and as much earnestness and bustle about the various objects as if our living had solely de- pended upon them. I made every thing give way to the great object of making their lives happy and in- nocent. I did not know what they might be in time, or what might be my lot ; but I was resolved not to be the cause of their being unhappy then, let what might become of us afterwards. I was, as I am, of opinion, that it is injurious to the mind to press hook learning upon it at an eariy age : I always felt pain for poor little things, set up, before " company," to repeat verses, or bits of plays, at six or eight years old. I have sometimes not known whi-jh way to look, when a tnother (and, too often, a father,) whom I could not but respect on account of her LLetter I ^'1 TO A FATHER. 215 r." :i! Lion required lUt my labour ^hom, in case [ always saw lity, of being ; but, happen )ng as I could Id lead happy ; ever children len the fourth untry, and so ad forward to if the question, lings, provided ovision. Next. 1 as far as pos- ample of early something or )ys, will have 'as my duty to s combined fu- ;e. Each his trees; rabbits, hares; hoes, )bject of lively nd bustle about had solely de- ing give way to J happy and in- light be in time, resolved not to y then, let what y^^as, as I am, of mind to press e: I always felt )re" company," at six or eight own whi'h way often, a father,) account of her fondness for her child, has forced the feeble-voiced eighth wonder of the world, to stand with its little hand stretched out, spouting the soliloquy of Hamlet, or some such thing. I remember, on one occasion, a Uttle pale-faced creature, only five years old, was brought in, after the feeding part of the dinner was over, first to take his regular half-glass of vintner's brewings, commonly called wine, and then to treat us to a display of his wonderful genius. The sub- ject was a speech of a robust and bold youth, in a Scotch play, the title of which I have forgotten, but the speech began with, " My name is Norval : on the Grampian Hills my father fed his flocks..." And this in a voice so weak and distressing as to put me in mind of the plaintive squeaking of little pigs when the sow is lying on them. As we were going home (one of my hDys and I) he, after a si- lence of half a mile perhaps, rode up close to the side of my horse, and said, " Papa, where be the '' Grampian Hills ?" " Oh," said I, " they are in "Scotland; poor, barren, beggarly places, covered "with heath and rushes, ten times as barren as " Sheril Heath." " But," said he, « how could that " little boy's father feed his flocks there, then ?" I was ready to tumble off the horse with laughing. 284. I do not know any thing much more distress^ ing to the spectators than exhibitions of this sort. Every one feels not for the child, for it is insensible to the uneasiness it excites, but for the parents, whose amiable fondness displays itself in this ridiculous manner. Upon these occasions, no one knows what to say, or whither to direct his looks. The parents, and especially the fond mother, looks sharply round for the so-evidently merited applause, as an actor of the name of Munden, whom I recollect thirty years ago, used, when he had treated us to a witty shrug of his shoulders, or twist of his chin, to turn "his face up to the gallery for the clap. If I had to declare on my oath which have been the most disagreeable mo- ments of my life, I verily believe, that, after due-con- sideration, I should fix upon those, in hich parents, 'M ir \,r^M 1 MpM. fe;'..,!'- • •:■ m :^-'^' m< . ' » ■ :( i ■ ,1! 216 A •^ cobbett's Advice (Xetter whom I have respected, have made me endure exhi- bitions like these; for, this is your choice, to be in^ sincere^ or to give offence. 285. And, as towards the child, it is to be unjust, thus to teach it to set a high value on trifling, not to say mischievous, attainments ; to make it, whether it be in its natural disposition or not, vain and con- ceited. The plaudits which it receives, in such cases, puffs it up in its own thoughts, sends it out into the world stuffed with pride and insolence, which must and will be extracted out of it by one means or ano- ther ; and none but those who have had to endure the drawing of firmly-fixed teeth, can, I take it, have an adequate idea of the painfulness of this opera- tion. Now, parents have no right thus to indulge their own feelings at the risk of the happiness of their children. 286. The great matter is, however, the spoiling of the mind by forcing on it thoughts which it is not h to receive. We know well, we daily see, that in men. as well as in other animals, the body is rendered comparatively small and feeble by being heavily loaded, or hard worked, before it arrive at size and strength proportioned to such load and such work. It is just so with the mind : the attempt to put old heads upon young shoulders is just as unreasonable as it would be to expect a colt six months old to be able to carry a man. The mind, as well as the body, requires time to come to its strength; and the way to have it possess, at last, its natural strength, is not to attempt to load it too soon ; and to favour it in its progress by giving to the body good and plentiful food, sweet air, and abundant exercise, accompanied with as little discontent or uneasiness as possible. It is universally known, that ailments of the body are, in many cases, sufficient to destroy the mind, and to debilitate it in innumerable instances. It is equally well known, that the torments of the mind are, in mpny cases, suflicient to destroy the body. This, then, being so well known, is it not the first duty of a fa- ther to secure to his children, if possible, sound and "» ' TO A FATHER. 217 endure exhi- ice, to be ir^ to be unjust J rifling, not to e it, whether irain and con- in such cases, t out into the I, which must means or ano- Lad to endure I take it, have )f this opera- lus to indulge i happiness of the spoiling of lich it is not fit e, that in men. ly is rendered being heavily ve at size and id such work, mpt to put old 3 unreasonable onths old to be ell as the body, l; and the way strength, is not favour it in its and plentiful 3, accompanied I as possible. It )f the body are, le mind, and to . It is equally \e mind are, in idy. This, then, 3t duty of a fa- ible, sound and strong bodies 1 Lord Bacon says, that '^a sound " mind in a sound body is the greatest of God's bles- "sings." To see his children possess these, therefore, ought to be the first object with every father; an ob- ject which I cannot too often endeavour to fix in his mind. 287. I am to speak presently of that sort of learn' ing' which is derived from books, and which is a mat- ter by no means to be neglected, or to be thought little of, seeing that it is the road, not only to fame, but to the means of doing great good to one's neigh- bours and to one's country, and, thereby, of adding to those pleasant feelings which are, in other words, our happiness. But, notwithstanding this, I must jhere insist, and endeavour to impress my opinion upon the mind of every father, that his children's happiness ought to be Yiisfirst object ; that book-learn-' ing^ if it tend to militate against this, ought to be disregarded ; and that, as to money, as to fortune, as to rank and title, that father who can, in the destina- tion of his children, think of them more than of the m^piness of those children, is, if he be of sane mind, a great criminal. Who is there, having lived to the age of thirty, or even twenty, years, and having the lordinary capacity for observation j who is there, be- ling of this description, who must not be convinced [of the inadequacy of riches and what are called hmurs to insure happiness 7 Who, amongst all the classes of men, experience, on an average, so little of \ml pleasure, and so much of real pain as the rich and the lofty 1 Pope gives us, as the materials for kippiness, " health, peace, and competence?^ Aye, but kvhat is peace, and what is competence ? If, hy peace, pe mean that tranquillity of mind which innocence kid good deeds produce, he is right and clear so far; (or we all know that, without health, which has a yell-known positive meaning, there can be no hap- piness. But competence is a word of unfixed mean- ig. It may, with some, mean enough to eat, drink, |ear and be lodged and warmed with; but, with Ithers, it may include horses, carriages, and footmen -I T v!i 'r • J' !• I I ' ': i I'i 218 COBBETTiS AOYICB [Letter ,:l'!' ■'' r .\j ill.} i 1 '" :■ iii i I, ,!,i|| : 'I ■: ' i •- laced over from top to toe. So that, here, we have no guide ; no standard ; and, indeed, there can be none. But as every sensible father must know that the possession of riches do not, never did, and never can, afford even a chance of additional happiness, it is his duty to inculcate in the minds of his children to make no sacrifice of principle, of moral obligation of any sort, in order to obtain riches, or distinction; and it is a duty still more imperative on him, not to expose them to the risk of loss of health, or diminu- tion of strength, for purposes which have, either directly or indirectly, the acquiring of riches in view, whether for himself or for them. 288. With these principles immoveably implanted in my mind, I became the father of a family, and on these principles I have reared that family. Being myself fond of book-learning, and knowing well its powers, I naturally wished them to possess it too ; but never did I impose it upon any one of them. My first duty was to make them healthy and strong, if I could, and to give them as much enjoyment of life as possible. Born and bred up in the sweet air my- self, I was resolved that they should be bred up in it too. Enjoying rural scenes and sports, as I had done, when a boy, as much as any one that ever was born, I was resolved, that they should have the same en- joyments tendered to them. When I was a very lit- tle boy, I was, in the barley-sowing season, going along by the side of a field, near Waverly Abbey; the primroses and blue-bells bespangling the banks on both sides of me ; a thousand linnets singing in a spreading oak over my head ; while the jingle ofj the traces and the whistling of the ploughboys sa- luted my ear from over the hedge; and, as it were to snatch me from the enchantment, the hounds, at that instant, having started a hare in the hanger on the other side of the field, came up scampering over it in full cry, taking me after tlieru many a mile. I was not more than eight years old ; but this particular scene has presented itself to my mind many times every year from that day to this. I always enjoy it v.] TO A FATHER. 219 over again ; and I was resolved to give, If possible the same enjoyments to my children. 289. Men's circumstances are so various ; there is such a great variety in their situations in life, their business, the extent of their pecuniary means, the local state in which they are placed, their internal re- sources ; the variety in all these respects is so great, that, as applicable to every family, it would be im- possible to lay down any set of rules, or maxims, touching every matter relating to the management and rearing up of children. In giving an account, therefore, of my own conduct, in this respect, I am not to be understood as supposing, that every father can, or ought, to attempt to do the same; but while it will be seen, that there are many, and these the most important parts of that conduct, that all fathers may imitate, if they choose, there is no part of it which thousands and thousands of fathers might not adopt and pursue, and adhere to, to the very letter. 290. I effected every thing without scolding, and even without command. My children are a family of scholars, each sex its appropriate species of learn- ing ; and, I could safely take my oath, that I never ordered a child of mine, son or daughter, to look into a book, in my life. My two eldest sons, when about eight years old, were, for the sake of their health, placed for a very short time, at a Clergyman's at MicHELDEVER, auQ my eldest daughter, a little older, I at a school a few miles from Botley, to avoid taking them to London in the winter. But, with these ex- I ceptions, never had they, while children, teacher of any description ; and I never, and nobody else ever, taught any one of them to read, write, or any thing else, except in conversation; and, yet, no man was ever more anxious to be the father of a family of [clever and learned persons. 291. I accomplished my purpose indirectly. The jfirst thing of all was health, which was secured by |the deeply-interesting and never-ending sports of the ' Id and pleasures of the garden. Luckily these Ithings were treated of in hooka and pictures of end- -.1 220 COBBBTT^S ADVICE [Letter . , i 1 1, 4 y ' ■k 1 v.. f !;!'i '¥ . '•ii ai|,.: ¥^'- y ■ !' ■ 'i less variety ; so that on loet days^ in long eceninga^ these came into play. A large, strong table, in the middle of the room, their mother sitting at her work, used to be surrounded with them, the baby, if big enough, set up in a high chair. Here were ink- stands, pens, pencils, India rubber, and paper, all in abundance, and every one scrabbled about as he or she pleased. There were prints of animals of all sorts ; books treating of them : others treating of gardening, of flowers, of husbandry, of hunting, coursing, shooting, fishing, planting, and, in short, of every thing, with regard to which we had some- thing to do. One would be trying to imitate a bit of my writing, another drawiing the pictures of some of our dogs or horses, a third poking over Bewkli's Quadrupeds^ and picking out what he said about them : but our book of never-failing resource was the French Maison RusTiauE, or Farm-House. "which, it is said, was the book that first temptea BuQUESNOis (I think that was the name), the famous physician, in the reign of Louis XIV., to learn to read. Here are all the four-legged animals^ from the horse down to the mouse, portraits and all ; all the hirds^ reptiles^ insects ; all the modes of rearing, managing, and using the tame ones; all the modes of taking the wild ones, and of destroying those that are mischievous; all the various traps, springs, nets; all the implements of husbandry and gardening ; all the labours of the field and the garden exhibited, as I well as the rest, in plates ; and, there was I, in my leisure moments, to join this inquisitive group, to read the French, and tell them what it meaned in English, when the picture did not sufficiently explain itself. I never have been without a copy of this book for forty years, except during the time that I was fleeing from the dungeons of Castlereagh and SiDMOCTH, in 1817; and, when I got to Long Island,! the first book Ibought was another Maison RusTmnE.! bu t^. What need had we of schools 7 What need! wl ef teachers? What need of scolding B.nd force, \m^^ induce childreu to read^ writq, and love books ? What I spi [Letter! ^'^ TO A FATHER. 221 I long eceningSy [ig table, in the [ng at her work, he baby, if big iere were ink- md paper, all in about as he or ' animals of all lers treating of ry, of hunting, r, and, in short, h we had some- D imitate a bit of Dictuies of some ig over Bewick^s i he said about ig resource was [)r Farm-House. at first tempted ime), the famous LIV., to learn to d animalSj from -aits and all ; all modes of rearing, s; all the modes roying those that ps, springs, nets; id gardening; all •den exhibited, as lere was I, in my lisitive group, to hat it meanedin ifficiently explain t a copy of this gthe time that I j Castlereagh and )t to Long Island, VIaISON RUSTIQUE. )l8 7 What need] ivg and /orw, to 3ve books? What need of oardSf dice, or of any games, to "XrtU time ;" but, in fact, to implant in the infant heart a love of gamng, one of the most destructive of all 1 nan vices ? We did not want to " kUl time :" we *vere always bttsy, wet weather or dry weather, winter or summer. There was no force in any case ; no ammand; no authority; none of these was ever wanted. To teach the children the habit of early rising was a great object ; and every one knows how young people cling to their beds, and how loth they are to go to those beds. This was a capital matter j because, here were industry and health both at stake. Yet, I avoided command even here ; and merely of- fered a reward. The child that was down stairs first, was called the hhns.for that day ; and, further, sat at rny right hand at dinner. They soon disco- vered, that to rise early, they must go to bed early; and thus was this most important object secured, with regard to girls as well as boys. Nothing more inconvenient, and, indeed, more disgusting, than to have to do with girls, or young women, who lounge in bed : " A little more sleep, a little more slumber, a little more folding of the hands to sleep." Solo- mon knew them well : he had, I dare say, seen the breakfast cooling, carriages and horses and servants waiting, the sun coming burning on, the day wast- ing, the night growing dark too early, appointments broken, and the objects of journeys defeated ; and all this from the lolloping in bed of persons who ought to have risen with the sun. No beauty, no mo- desty, no accomplishments, are a compensation for the effects of laziness in women ; and, of all the proofs of laziness, none is so unequivocal as that of lying late in bed. Love makes men overlook this vice (for it is a vice), for a while ; but, this does not last for life. Besides, health demands early rising : the management of a house imperiously demands it ; I but health, that most precious possession, without which there is nothing else worth possessing, de- mands it too. The morning air is the most whole- wrae and strengthening: even in crowded cities, 9* 1 i,; 4 U;H ii i M I ;v I 222 OOBBETT'a ADVICB ! 1 i i ..: ■ i !■ ■ f 1.1 ■< :i 'j-l .•• ^ S»;^ it ' u f "■ ■/■■i iV 'ij .^• [Letter men might do pretty well with the aid of the morn- ing air ; but, how are they to rise early, if they go to bed /a<6? 293. But, to do the things I did, you must love home yourself; to rear up children in this manner, you must live with them ; you must make them, too, feel, by your conduct, that you prefer this to any other mode of passing your time. All men cannot lead this sort of life, but many may ; and all much more than many do. My occupation, to be sure, was chiefly carried on at home ; but, I had always enough to do ; I never spent an idle week, or even day, in my whole life. Yet I found time to talk with them, to walk, or ride, about with them ; and when forced to go from home, always took one or more with me. You must be good-tempered too with them ; they must like your company better than any other person's j they must not wish you away, not fear your coming back, not look upon your depar- ture as a holiday. When my business kept me away from the «;ra&6/iW-table, a petition often came, that I would go and tcSk with the group, and the bearer generally was the youngest, being the most likely to succeed. When I ^r^'nt from home, all followed me to the outer-gate, and looked after me, till the car- riage, or horse, was out of sight. At the time ap- pointed for my return, all were prepared to meet me; and if it were late at night, they sat up as long as they were able to keep their eyes open. This love of parents, and this constant pleasure at home, made them not even think of seeking pleasure abroad; and they, thus, were kept from vicious playmates and early corruption. 294. This is the age, too, to teach children to be i trust-worthy, and to be merciful and humane. We lived in a garden of about two acres, partly kitch- en-garden with walls, partly shrubbery and trees, and partly grass. There were the 'peojches, as tempt- ing as any that ever grew, and yet as safe from fin- gers as if no child were ever in the garden. It was I not necessary to forbid. The blackbirds, the thrush- TO A FATHER^ ^ 22a 'I on, to be sure, t, I had always and the bearer 68, the white-throats, and even that very shy bird the goldfinch, had their nests and bred up their young-ones, in great abundance, all about this little spot, constantly the play-place of six children ; and one of the latter had its nest, and brought up its young-ones, in a raspherry-bush, within two yards of a walk, and at the time that we were gathering the ripe raspberries. We give dog's, and justly, great credit for sagacity and memory ; but the following two most curious instances, which I should not ven- ture to state, if there were not so many witnesses to the facts, in my neighbours at Botley, as well as in my own family, will show, that birds are not, in this respect, inferior to the canine race. All country people know that the skylark is a very shy bird ; that its abode is the open fields : that it settles on the ground only ; that it seeks safety in the wideness of space ; that it avoids enclosures, and is never seen in gardens. A part of our ground w^as a grass-plat of about forty rods, or a quarter of an acre, which, one year, was left to be mowed for hay. A pair of larks, coming out of the fields into the middle of a pretty populous village, chose to make their nest in the middle of this little spot, and at not more than about thirty-five yards from one of the doors of the house, in which there were about twelve persons living, and six of those children, who had constant access to all parts of the ground. There we saw the cock rising up and singing, then taking his turn upon the eggs; and by-and-by, we observed him cease to sing, and saw them both constantly engaged in bringing food to the young ones. No unintelligi- ble hint to fathers and mothers of the human race, who have, before marriage, taken delight in music. But the time came for mowing the grass ! I waited a good many days for the brood to get away ; but, at last, I determined on the day ; and if the larks were there still, to leave a patch of grass standing round them. In order not to keep them in dread longer than necessary, I brought three able mowers, who would cut the whole in about an hour ) and ai vW 'k ' r;i| \ 1 i ) !.■ 2m COBBETT'S ADVICE ILettcr I v.] m^ ^' ^l^; i •', ifel; I the plat was nearly circular, set them to mow rownd, beginning at the outside. And now for sagacity in- deed ! The moment the men began to whet their scythes, the two old larks began to flutter over the nest, and to make a great clamour. "When the men began to mow, they flew round and round, stooping so low, when near the men, as almost to touch their bodies, making a great chattering at the same time; but before the men had got round with the second swarth, they flew to the nest, and away they went, young ones and all, across the river, at the foot of the ground, and settled in the long grass in my neighbour's orchard. 2&5. The other instance relates to a house-mar- ten. It is well known that these birds build their nests under the eaves of inhabited houses, and sometimes under those of door porches ; but we had one that built its nest in the hoiise^ and upon the top of a common door-case, the door of which opened into a room out of the main passage into the house. Perceiving the marten had begun to build its nest here, we kept the front-door open in the daytime ; but were obliged to fasten it at night. It went on, had eggs, young ones, and the young ones flew. I used to open the door in the morning early, and then the birds carried on their affairs till night. The next year the marten came again, and had another brood in the same place. It found its old nest ; and having repaired it, and put it m order, went on again in the former way ; and it would, I dare say, have continued to come to the end of its life, if we had remained there so long, notwithstanding there were six healthy children in the house, making just as much noise as they pleased. 296. Now, what sagacity in these birds, to disco- ver that those were places of safety ! And how happy it must have made us, the parents, to be sure that our children had thus deeply imbibed habits the contrary of cruelty ! For, be it engraven on your heart, young man, that, whatever appearances may Bay to the contrary, cruelty is always accompanied LLettcr I ^-1 ^ TO A FATHER. 225 w round, acity in- het their over the the men stooping uch their me time ; e second ley went, le foot of ss in my OUSE-MAR- ►uild their luses, and lut we had on the top ch opened the house, d its nest 5 daytime ; t went on, es flew. I IT, and then ght. The ad another nest ; and it on again say, have if we had there were ng just as s, to disco- And how ^ to be sure i habits the en on your •ances may rcompaniM with cowardke, and also with perfidy, 'xrhen that is called for by the circumstance of the case ; and that habitual acts of cruelty to other creatures, will, nine times out of ten, produce, when the power is possessed, cruelty to human beings. The ill-usago of horses, and particularly asses, is a grave and a just charge against this nation. No other nation on earth is guilty of it to the same extent. Not only by blcnps, but by privation, are we cruel towards tnese useful, docile, and patient creatures ; and especially towards the last, which is the most docile and pa- tient and laborious of the two, while the food that satisfies it, is of the coarsest and least costly kind, and in quantity so small ! In the habitual ill-treat- ment of this animal, which, in addition to all its la- bours, has the milk taken from its young ones to administer a remedy for our ailments, there is some- thing that bespeaks ingratitude hardly to be descri- bed. In a Register that I wrote from Long Island, I said, that amongst all the things of which I had been bereft, I regretted no one so much as a very di- minutive mare, one which my children had all, in succession, learned to ride. She was become useless for them, and indeed, for any other purpose ; but the recollection of her was so entwined with so many past circumstances, which, at that distance, my mind conjure ■ up, that I really was very uneasy, lest she should fall into cruel hands. By good luck, she was, after a while, turned out on the wide world to shift for herself; and when we got back, and had a place for her to stand in, from her native forest we brought lier to Kensington, and she is now at Barn- Elm, about twenty-six years old, and I dare say as fat as a mole. Now, not only have I no moral right (con- sidering my ability to pay for keep) to deprive her of life ; but it would be unjust and wigratejvl, in me to withhold from her sufficient food and lodging to make life as pleasant as possible while that life last. 297. In the meanwhile the book-learning crept in of its own accord, by imperceptible degrees. Child- ren naturally want to be like their parents, and to do 4f' • ■♦ ('ill '"■■ I'. ■ ; 1 i'^'/'i 226 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter i '.• '|:i|! IM tphat they do : the boys following their fatlier, and the girls their mother j and as I was always writing or reading, mine naturally desired to do something in the same way. But, at the same time, they heard no talk from j^ote or drinkers ; saw me with no idle, gabbling, empty companions ; saw no vain and af- fected coxcombs, and no tawdry and extravagant women: saw no nasty gormandizing; and heard no gabble about play-houses and romances and the other nonsense that fit boys to be lobby-loungers, and girls to be the ruin of industrious and frugal young men, 298. We wanted no stimulants of this sort to keep up our spirits : our various pleasing pursuits were quite sufficient for that ; and the book-learning came amongst the rest of the pleasures, to which it was, in some sort, necessary. I remember that, one year, I raised a prodigious crop of fine melons, un- der hand-glasses ; and I learned how to do it from a gardening book ; or, at least, that book was necessa- ry to remind me of the details. Having passed part of an evening in talking to the boys about getting this crop, " Come," said I, " now, let us r'ead the book.^^ Then the book came forth, and to work we ■went, following very strictly the precepts of the book. I read the thing but once, but the eldest boy read it, perhaps, twenty times over ; and explained all about the matter to the others. Why here was a motive! Then he had to tell the garden-labourer what to do to the melons. Now, I will engage, that more was really learned by this single lesson, than would have been learned by spending, at this son's age, a year at school j and he happy and delighted all the while. When any dispute arose amongst them about hunting or shooting, or any other of their pur- suits, they, by degrees, found out the way of settling it by reference to some book ; and when any difllcul- ty occurred, as to the meaning, they referred to me, who, if at home, always instantly attended to them, in these matters. s^ 299. They began writing by taking words out oi v.] TO A FATHER. 227 ■ fatlier, and i^ays writing [o something e, they heard with no idle, vain and af- . extravagant r; and heard inces and the bby-loungers, IS and frugal • this sort to ising pursuits book-learning es, to which il mber that, one ne melons, un- to do it from a k was necessa- ing passed part about getting Bt us read the nd to work we recepts of the , the eldest boy and explained V^hy here was a rarden-labourer ill engage, that gle lesson, than ig, at this son's nd ddighted all ! amongst them ler of their pur- way of settling len any difficul- referred to me, ttended to them^ ig words out 01 printedbooks ; finding out which letter was which, by asking me, or asking those who knew the letters one from another ; and by imitating bits of my writing, it is surprising how soon they began to write a hand like mine, very small, very faint-stroked, and nearly plain as print. The first use that any one of them made of the pen, was to torite to me, though in the same house with them. They began doing this in mere scratches, before they knew how to make any one letter ; and as I was always folding up letters and directing them, so were they ; and they were sure to receive a prompt answer, with most encoura- ginff compliments. All the meddlings and teazings of friends, and, what was more serious, the press- ing prayers of their anxious mother, about sending them to school, I withstood without the slightest eflfect on my resolution. As to friends, preferring my own judgment to theirs, I did not care much ; but an expression of anxiety, implying a doubt of the soundness of my own judgment, coming, per- haps, twenty times a day from her whose care they were as well as mine, was not a matter to smile at, and very great trouble did it give me. My answer at last was, as to the boys, I want them to be like me ; and as to the girls, In whose hands can they be so safe as in yours 7 Therefore my resolution is ta- ken : go to school they shall not. 300. Nothing is much more annoying than the intermeddling' of friends, in a case like this. The wife appeals to them, and ^^good breeding,^"* that is to say, nonsense, is sure to put them on her side. Then, they, particularly the women, when descri- bing the surprising^ progress made by their own sons at school, useoj if one of mine were present, to turn to him, and ask, to what school he went, and what he was learning 7 I leave any one to judge of his opinion of her ; and whether he would like her the better for that ! " Bless me, so tall, and not learned any thing yet .'" " Oh yes, he has," I used to say, " he has learned to ride, and hunt, and shoot, " and fish, and look after cattle and sheep, and to it', r' ^1 2S8 cobbett's advice [Letter r>'.)i ll ■'! I ' :•!-:'; ! ,|if. Sli. " I n.f , " work in the garden, and to feed his dogs, and to go " from village to village in the dark." This was the way I used to manage with troublesome customers of this sort. And how glad thechildren used to be, when they got clear of such criticising people ! And how grateful they felt to mc for the protection which they saw that I gave them against that state of re- straint, of which other people's boys complained ! Go whither they might, they found no place so pleasant as home, and no soul that came near them affording them so many means of gratification as they received from me. 301. In this happy state we lived, until the year 1810, when the government laid its merciless fangs upon me, dragged me from these delights, and crammed me into a jail amongst feloiis ; of which I shall have to speak more fully, when, in the last Number, I come to speak of the duties of the Citi- zen. This added to the difficulties of my task of teaching ; for now I was snatched away from the only scene in which it could, as I thought, properly be executed. But even these difficulties were got over. The blow was, to be sure, a terrible one; and, oh God ! how was it felt by these poor child- ren ! It was in the month of July when the horri- ble sentence was passed upon me. My wife, having left her children in the care of her good and affec- tionate sister, was in London, waiting to know the doom of her husband. When the news arrived at Botley, the three boys, one eleven, another nine, and the other seven, years old, were hoeing cabbages in that garden which had been the source of so much delight. When the account of the savage sentence was brought to them, the youngest could not, for some time, be made to understand what a jail was ; and, when he did, he, all in a tremor, exclaimed, " Now I'm sure, William, that Papa is not in a place like that .'" The other, in order to disguise- his tears and smother his sobs, fell to work with the hoe, and chopped about like a blind person. This account, v/hen it reached me, affected me more, filled mi V.J TO A FATHER. 220 )g9, and to go This was the ; customers of ed to be, when e ! And how tection which at state of re- ; complained', i no place so me near them rratiiication as initil lae year lerciless fangs delights, and IS ; of which I en, in the last eS of THE ClTI- of my task of iway from the pught, properly ulties were got a terrible one; ese poor child- vhen the horri- fy wife, having good and affec- ig to know the news arrived at lother nine, and ing cabbages in irce of so much -javage sentence , could not, for rhat a jail was ; nor, exclaimed, is not in a place [sguis& his tears ith the hoe, and This account, more, filled me with deeper resentment, than any other circum- stance. And, oh ! how I despise the wretches who talk of my vindictiveness ; of my exultation at the confusion of those who inflicted those sufferings ! How I despise the base creatures, the crawling slaves, the callous and cowardly hypocrites, who affect to be " shocked" (tender souls I) at my expressions of joy, and at the death of Gibbs, Ellenborough, Perci- val, Liverpool, Canning, and the rest of the tribe that I have already seen out, and at the fatal work- ings of that system., for endeavouring to check which I was thus punished ! How I despise these wretches, and how I, above all things, enjoy their ruin, and anticipate their utter beggary 1 What ! I am to forgive, am I, injuries like this ; and that, too, without any atonement ? Oh, no ! I have not so read the Holy Scriptures ; I have not, from them, learned that I am not to rejoice at the fall of unjust foes ; and it makes a part of my happiness to be able to tell millions of men that I do thus rejoice, and that I have the means of calling on so many just and merciful men to rejoice along with me. 303. Now, then, the book-learning wasforced upon I us. I had a^ar/Ti in hand. It was necessary that I should be constantly informed of what was doing. I gave ail tlie orders, whether as to purchases, sales, 1 ploughing, sowing, breeding; in short with regard to every thing, and the things were endless in num- ber and variety, and always full of interest. My eldest son and daughter could now write well and fast. One or the other of these was always at Bot- ley; and I had with me (having hired the best part of the keeper's house) one or two, besides either this Ibrother or sister ; the mother coming up to town [about once in two or three months, leaving the house land children in the care of her sister. We had a |HAMPER, with a lock and two keys, which came up Slice a week,or oftener,bringing me fruit and all sorts )f country fare, for the carriage of which, cost free, " was indebted to as good a man as ever God created, le late Mr. George Rogers, of Southampton, who, 20 I.' .i ■ "ii P^'l-'r' I'- ll: m. I ::^ |; ; ;■ Ji >4 f » «: .,, ^^, :!■ »:! ■' , h'i 230 COBBETT^S ADVICE LLetter in the prime of life, died deeply lamented by thou- sands, but by none more deeply than by me and my family, who have to thank him, and the whole of his excellent family, for benefits and marks of kindness without number. 303. This HAMPER, which was always, at both ends of the line, looked for with the most lively feelings, became our 5c/ioo/. It brought me a journal of /a- bourSj proceedings, and occurrences, written on pa- per of shape and size uniform, and so contrived, as to margins, as to admit of binding. The journal used, when my son was the writer, to be interspersed with drawings of our dogs, colts, or any thing that he wanted me to have a correct idea of. The hamper brought me plants, bulbs, and the like, that I might see the size of them ; and always every one sent his or j her most beautiful flowers ; the earliest violets, and; primroses, and cowslips, and blue-bells; the earliest twigs of trees ; and, in short, every thing that they thought calculated to delight me. The moment the I hamper arrived, I, casting aside every thing else, set to work to answer exsery question, to give new direc- tions, and to add any thing likely to give pleasure at Botley. Every hamper brought one " lelter,^^ as they called it, if not more, from every child ; and to evem letter I wrote an atiswer, sealed up and sent to the! party, being sure that that was the way to produce other and better letters j for, though they could not read what I wrote, and though their own consisted at first of mere scratches, and afterwards, for a whilej of a few words written down for them tu imitate, ll always thanked them for their ^' pretty letter'^^ j and! never expressed any wish to see them write-hettei';\ but took care to write in a very neat and plain liandj myself, and to do up my letter in a very neat raanner.l 304. Thus, while the ferocious tigers thought ll M^as doomed to incessant mortification, and to ragul that must extinguish my mental powers, I found inl my children, and in their spotless and courageous! and most affectionate mother, delights to which t callous hearts of those tigers were strangers. " Ilia-I ILetter I V.] TO A FATHER. 231 3nted by thou- by me and ray le whole of his ts of kindness ys, at both ends lively feelings, J, journal of la- written on pa- jo contrived, as r. The journal Ibe interspersed : any thing that )f. The hamper tke, that I might fy one sent his or liest violets, and lells; the earliest j^ thing that they The moment tlie ery thing else, set o give new direc- ) give pleasure at 5"/e««2r,"asthey hild ; and to a-ery and sent to the . way to produce h they could not lir own consisted fvards, for a while,! hemtu imitate,! rretiy letter-'' i and lem write-heUei';\ lat and plain hand] [very neat manner. tigers thought I aion, and to rag« jowers, 1 found m fs and courageod ghts to which tro| "'strangers. "Ih^- yen first taught letters for some wretch's aid." How often did this line of Pope occur to me when I open- ed the little spitddliii^ " letters" from Botley ! This correspondence occupied a good part of my time : I had all the children with me, turn and turn about; and, in order to give the boys exercise, and to give the two eldest an opportunity of beginning to learn French, I used, for a part of the two years, to send them a few hours in the day to an Abbe, who lived in Castle-street, Holborn. All this was a great relax- ation to my mind ; and, when I had to return to my literary labours, I returned /^es/i and cheerful, full ol vigour, and /w// of hope, of fi.ially seeing my unjust and merciless foes at my feet, and that, too, without caring a straw on whom their fall might bring ca- lamity, so that my own family were safe ; because, say what any one might, the community, taken as a whole, had suffered this thing' to be done unto us, 305. The paying of the work-people, the keeping of the accounts, the referring to books, the writing and reading of letters; this everlasting mixture of amusements with book-learning, made me, almost to my own surprise, find, at the end of the two years, that I had a parcel of scholars growing up about me; and, long before the end of the time, I had dictated many Registers to my two eldest children. Then, there was copying out of books, which taught spet- ling correctly. The calculations about the farn.''j affairs forced arithmetic upon us : the use, the neces- sity, of the thing, led to the study. By-and-by, we had to look into the laws to know what to do about the highways, about the game, about the poor, and all rural and parochial affairs. I was, indeed, by the fangs of the government, defeated in my fondly- cherished project of making my sons farmers on their own land, and keeping them from all tempta- tion to seek vicious and enervating enjoyments; but those fangs, merciless as they had been, had not Ibeen able to prevent me from laying in for their lives a store of useful information, habits of industry care, sobriety, and a taste for innocent, healthful, and Jill' I in .1 It K .f'.'ll V WJ '%: 232 cobbett's advicb Pi;^!'''! !''i:ii? h.i I fl.",' ;:!: If-r ;■-' fl ■! I I'; I ' ! ■^ 'k [Letter ^il '¥i manly pleasures : the fangs had made me and them pennylesss ; but, they had not been able to take from us our health or our mental possessions ; and these were ready for application as circumstances might ordain. 306. After the age that I have now been speaking of, fourteen^ I suppose every one became a reader and writer according to fancy. As to books, with the ex- ception of the Poets, I never bought, in my whole life, any one that I did not want for some purpose of ntility, and of jyt*actical utility too. I have two or three times had the whole collection snatched away from me ; and have begun again to get them together as they were wanted. Go and kick an Ant's nest about, and you will see the little laborious, coura- geous creatures instantly set to work to get it toge- ther again j and if you do this ten times over, ten times over they will do the same. Here is the sort of stuff that men must be made of to oppose, with success, those who, by whatever means, get posses- sion of great and mischievous power. 307. Now, I am aware, that that which I did, can- not be done by every one of hundreds of thousands of fathers, each of whom loves his children with all his soul : I am aware that the attorney, the surgeon, the physician, the trader, and even the farmer, can- not, generally speaking, do what I did, and that they | must, in most cases, send their sons to school, if it be necessary for them to have book-learning-. But while I say this, I know, that there are many things^ i which I did, which many fathers might do, and which, nevertheless, they do not do. It is in the I power of every father to live at home with his fawi- ty, when not compelled by business, or by public duty, to be absent : it is in his power to set an example of I industry and sobriety and frugality, and to prevent a taste for gaming, dissipation, extravagance, from | getting root in the minds of his children : it is in his power to continue to make his children hearers,^ when he is reproving servants for idleness, or com- mending them for industry and care: it is in his I T.| TO A FATHER. 233 J me and them le to take from ms ; and these istances might r been speaking we a reader and 1^ with the ex- t, in my whole jome purpose of I have two or . snatched away et them together : an Ant's nest aborious, coura- k to get it toge- i times over, ten Here is the sort to oppose, with leans, get posses- er. which Jdta, can- eds of thousands children with all ley, the surgeon, the farmer, can- aid, and that they ns to school, if it )k-learnwg: But are many things, s might do, and do. It is in the me with Ms f ami- or by public duty, set an example of y, and to prevent xtravagance, from ildren: it is in his children liearm, idleness, or com- care : it is in his power to keep all dissolute and idly-talking compa- nions from his house: it is in his power to teach them, by his uniform example, justice and mercy towards the inferior animals : it is in his power to do many other things, and something in the way of book-learning too, however busy his life may be. It is completely within his power to teach them early- rising and early going to bed ; and, if many a man, who says that he has not time to teach his children, were to sit down, in sinceirity, with a pen and a bit of paper, and put down all the minutes, which he, in every twenty-four hours, wastes over the bottle, or over cheese and oranges and raisins and biscuits^ after he has dined ; how many he lounges away, either at the coffee-house or at home, over the useless part of newspapers ; how many he spends in wait- ing for the coming and the managing of the tea-ta- ble; how many he passes by candle-light, 'leaned of his eanstence, when he might be in bed ; how many he passes in the morning in bed, while the sun and dew shine and sparkle for him in vain : if he were to put all these together, and were to add those which he passes in the reading- of books for his mere per- gonal amusement, and without the smallest chance of acquiring from them any wstf/i/Z practical knowledge: if he were to sum up the whole of these, and add to them the time worse than wasted in the contemptible work of dressing off his person, he would be frighten- ed at the result ; would send for his boys from school; and if greater book-learning than he possessed were necessary, he would choose for the purpose some man of ability, and see the teaching carried on under his ovi^n roof, with safety as to morals, and with the best chance as to health. 308. If after all, however, a school must be resort- led to, let it, if in your power, be as little populous as possible. As "evil communications corrupt good manners," so the more numerous the assemblage, and the more extensive the communication, the greater the chance of corruption. Jails, barrackSy \}actories> do not corrupt by their walls, but by thoir 30* ■I .1 234 cobbett's advice [Letter frm \ u I..' : i ' pi't condensed numbers. Populous cities corrupt from the same cause ; and it is, because il must 6c, the same with regard to schools, out of which children come not what they were when they went in. The master is, in some sort, their enemy ; he is their overlooker j he is a spy upon them j his authority is maintained by his absolute power of punishment ; the 'parent commits them to that power j to be taught is to be held in restraint ; and, as the sparks fly up- wards, the teaching and the restraint will not be di> vided in the estimation of the boy. Besides all this, there is the great disadvantage of tardiness in arri- ving at years of discretion. If boys live only with boys, their ideas will continue to be boyish ; if they see and hear and converse with nobody but boys, how are they to have the thoughts and the character of men? It is, at last, only by hearing men talk and seeing men act, that they learn to talk and act like men ; and, therefore, to confine them to the so- ciety of boys, is to retai'd their arrival at the years of discretion ; and in case of adverse circumstances in the pecuniary way, where, in all the creation, is there so helpless a mortal as a boy who has always been at school ! But, if, as I said before, a school there mvst be, let the congregation be as small as possible ; and, do not expect too much from the master; for, if it be irksome to you to teach your own sons, what must that teaching be to him? If he have great numbers, he must delegate his authority; and, like all other delegated authority, it will either | be abused or neglected. 309. With regard to girls, one would think that | mothers, would want no argument to make them shudder at the thought of committing the care of I their daughters to other hands than their own. If fortune have so favoured them as to make them ra- tionally desirous that their daughters should have more of what are called accomplishments than they themselves have, it has also favoured them with the means of having teachers under their own eye. If it have not favoured them so highly as this (and it '. ! ■.' I ii'l' [Letter s corrupt from U must be, the which children went in. The ly ; he is their ; his authority of punishment; r ; to be taught e sparks fly up- t will not be di- Besides all this, trdiness in arri- 3 live only with boyish; if they obody but boys, nd the character earing men talk 1 to talk and act B them to the so- rival at the years ise circumstances 1 the creation, is who has always before, a school nbe as small as much from the ►u to teach your be to him? If he ate his authority! ity, it will either would think that It to make them itting the care of an their own. If to make them ra- Iters should have hments «/ion they ed them with the heir own eye. If ily as this (and It v.] TO A FATHER. 2^ seldom has in the middle rank of life), what duty so sacred as that imposed on a mother to be the teach- er of her daughters ! And is she, from love of ease or of pleasure or of any thing else, to neglect this duty ; is she to commit her daughters to the care of persons, with wh^ s manners and morals it is im- possible for her to be thoroughly acquainted ; is she to send them into the promiscuous society of girls, who belong to nobody knows whom, and come from nobody knows whither, and some of whom, for aught she can know to the contrary, may have been cor- rupted before, and sent thither to be hidden from their former circle ; is she to send her daughters to be shut up within walls, the bare sight of which awaken the idea of intrigue and invite to seduction and surrender ; is she to leave the health of her daughters to chance, to shut them up with a motley bevy of strangers, some of whom, as is frequently the case, are proclaimed tmstanls. by the undeniable testimony given by the colour of their skin j is she to do all this, and still put forward pretensions to the authority and the affection due to a mother! And, are you to permit all this, and still call yourself a father ! 310. Well, then, having resolved to teach your own'children, or, to have them taught, at home, let us now see how they ought to proceed as to books for learning. It is evident, speaking of boys, that, at last, they must study the art, or science, that you intend them to pursue ; if they be to be surgeons, they must read books on surgery ; and the like ii\ other cases. But, there are certain elementary stu- dies ; certain books to be used by all persons, who are destined to acquire any book-learning at all. Then there are departments, or branches of knowledge, that every man in the middle rank of life, ought, if he can, to acquire, they being, in some sort, necessa- ry to his reputation as a wdl-informed man, a cha- racter to which the farmer and the shopkeeper ought to aspire as well as the lawyer and the surgeon. Let ms now, then, offer my advice as to the course of *i« fii A J,.' I: I ■■< \> i [' '"'1'! i1M 236 cobbett'b advice [Letter !.|li.;fl reading, and the wanner of reading, for a boy, ar- rived at his fourtLenth year, that being, in my opi- nion, early enough for him to begin. 311. And, first of all, whether as to boys or girls, I deprecate Tomances of every descriplion. It is impossible that they can do any good^ and they may do a great deal of harm. They excite passions that ought to lie dormant ; they give the mind a taste for highly-seosoned matter ; they make matters of real life insipid ; every girl, addicted to them, sighs to be a SopmA Western, and every boy, a Tom Jones. "What girl is not in love with the wild youth, and what boy does not find a justification for his wild- ness ? What can be more pernicious than the teach- ings of this celebrated romance? Here are two young men put before us, both sons of the same mother ; the one a bastard (and by a parson too), the oi\\GT 2i legitimate child; the former wild, diso- bedient, and squandering ; the latter steady, sober, obedient, and frugal : the former every thing that is frank and generous in his nature, the latter a greedy hypocrite ; the former rewarded with the most beau- tiful and virtuous of women and a double estate, the latter punished by being made an outcast. How is it possible for young people to read such a book, and to look upon orderliness, sobriety, obedience, and frugality, as virtues? And this is the tenor of almost every romance, and of almost every play, in our language. In the " School for Scandal," for instance, we see two brothers; the one a prudent and frugal man, and, to all appearance, a moral man, the other a hair-brained squanderer, laughing at the morality of his brother ; the former turns out to be a base hypocrite and seducer, and is brought to shame and disgrace ; while the latter is found to be full of gene- rous sentiment, and Heaven itself seems to interfere to give him fortune and fame. In short, the ^^irect tendency of the far greater part of these books, is, to cause young people to despise all those virtues, without the practice of which they must be a curse to their parents, a burden to the community, and ;h!: m [Letter )r aboy, ar- , in my opi- 3oys or girls, iplion. It is md they may passions tliat ind a taste for latters of real m, sighs to be L Tom J0NE8. Id youth, and 1 for his wild- iian the teach- Here are two IS of the same 1 parson too), ner wild, disc- steady, sober, ry thing that is latter a greedy the most beau- uble estate, the least. How is ich a book, and obedience, and tenor of almost y play, in our 1," for instance, lent and frugal man, the other at the morality at to be a base it to shame and be full of gene- ims to interfere iiort, the "direct thege books, is, 11 those virtues, must be a curse ommunity, and V.J TO A FATHER. iW must, except by mere accident, lead wretched lives. I do not recollect one romance nor one play, in our language, which has not this tendency. How is it possible for young princes to read the historical plays of the punning and smutty Shakspeare,and not think, that to be drunkards, blackguards, the companions of debauchees and robbers, is the suitable beginning of a glorious reign ? 312. There is, too, another most abominable prin- ciple that runs through them all, namely, that there is in high birthy something of s-ufperiar nature^ in- stinctive courage, honour, and talent. Who can look at the two royal youths in Cymbeline, or at the noble youth in Douglas, without detesting the base para- sites who wrote those plays? Here are youths, brought up by shepJiercls, never told of their origin, believing themselves the sons of these humble pa- rents, but discovering, when grown up, the highest notions of valour and honour, and thirsting for mi- litary renown, even while tending their reputed fa- thers' flocks and herds ! And why this species of falsehood ? To cheat the mass of the people ; to keep them in abject subjection ; to make them qui- etly submit to despotic sway. And the infamous authors are guilty of the cheat, because they are, in one shape or another, paid by oppressors out of means squeezed from the people. A true picture would give us just the reverse ; would show us that ^^high hirtN"^ is the enemy of virtue, of valour, and of ta- lent ; would show us, that with all their incalculable advantages, royal and noble families have, only by mere accident, produced a great man ; that, in gene- ral, they have been amongst the most effeminate, unprincipled, cowardly, stupid, and, at the very least, amongst the most useless persons, considered as in- dividuals, and not in connexion with the prerogatives and powers bestowed on them solely by the law. 313. It is impossible for me, by any words that I can use, to express, to the extent of my thoughts, the danger of suffering young people to form their opinions from the writings of poets and romancers. I'll 1 t' II 238 cobbett's advice [Letter I'll ''*u f] I- :«!', M' < 1 ' l! ■ y< - I ji fH: ■ ■;l. IX i 1 '^ \ *7! lll y Nine times out of ten, the morality they teach is bad, and must have a bad tendency. Their wit is employed to ridicule virtue^ as you will almost al- ways find, if you examine the matter to the bottom. The world owes a very large part of its sufferings to tyrants ; but what tyrant was there amongst the ancients, whom the poets did not place amongst the gods! Can you open an English poet, without, in some part or other of his works, finding the gross- est flatteries of royal and noble persons ? How are young people not to think that the praises bestowed on these persons are just? Dryden, Parnell, Gay, Thomson, in short, what poet have we had, or have we, Pope only excepted, who was not, or is not, a pensioner, or a sinecure placeman, or the wretched dependent of some part of the Aristocracy ? Of the extent of the powers of writers in producing mis- chief to a nation, we have two most striking instan- ces in the cases of Dr. Johnson and Burke. The former, at a time when it was a question whether war should be made on America to compel her to submit to be taxed by the English parliament, wrote a pamphlet, entitled, " Taxatiwi no Tyranny^'^ to urge the nation into that war. The latter, when it was a question, whether England should wage war against the people of France, to prevent them from reforming their government, wrote a pamphlet to urge the nation into that war. The first war lost us America, the last cost us six hundred millions of money, and has loaded us with forty millions a year of taxes. Johnson, however, got a pension far his life, and Bdrke a pension for his life, and for three lives after his own ! Cumberland and Murphy, the play-writers, were pensioners ; and, in short, of the whole mass, where has there been one, whom the people were not compelled to pay for labours, having for their principal object the deceiving and enslaving of that same people ? It is, therefore, the duty of every father, when he puts a book into the hands of his son or daughter, to give the reader a true account of who and what the writer of the book was, or is. [Letter ;hey teach is Their wit is ill almost al- the bottom, its sufferings ; amongst the B amongst the ;t, without, in ng the gross- is 1 How are lises bestowed ?ARNELL, Gay, e had, or have t, or is not, a f the wretched racy? Of the roducing mis- itriking instau- i Burke. The 3Stion whether compel her to liament, wrote Tyranny^'' to latter, when it ould wage war ent them from a pamphlet to irst war lost us ed millions of millions a year pension for his e, and for three id Murphy, the in short, of the one, whom the labours, having g and enslaving ore, the duty of ito the hands of r a true account >ok was, or is. V.J TO A FATHER. 239 314. If a boy be intended for any particular call- ing, he ought, of course, to be induced to read books relating to that calling, if such books there be ; and, therefore, I shall not be more particular on that head. But, there are certain things, that all men in the middle rank of life, ought to know something of; because the knowledge will be a source of pleasure; nnd because the want of it must, very frequently, iv. hem pain, by making them appear inferior, in ^io' of mind, to many who are, in fact, their infe- riors in that respect. These things are grammar^ arithmetic^ history^ accompanied with geogrcphy. Without these, a man, in the middle rank of life, however able he may be in his calling, makes but an awkward figure. Without grammar he cannot, with safety to his character as a well-informed man, put his thoughts upon paper ; nor can he be sure, that he is speaking with propriety. How many clever men have J known, full of natural talent, eloquent by nature, replete with every thing calculated to give them weight in society ; and yet having little or no weight, merely because unable to put correct- ly upon paper that which they have in their minds ! For me not to say, that I deem my English Gram- mar the best book for teaching this science, would be affectation, and neglect of duty besides; because I know, that it is the best ; because I wrote it for the purpose; and because, hundreds and hundreds of men and women have told me, some verbally, and some by letter, that, though (many of them) at grammar schools for years, they really never Imew any thing of grammar, until they studied my book. I, who know well all the difficulties that I experi- enced when I read books upon the subject, can easily believe this, and especially when I think of the nu- merous instances in which I have seen university- scholars unable to write English, with any tolerable degree of correctness. In this book, the principles are so clearly explained, that the disgust arising from intricacy is avoided ; and it is this disgust, that is the great and mortal enemyof acquiring knowledge. I I i ] :1 if' r I I -Ms I'- -rif 'i ■ ■)yk fi r '» S'-i" ■ -I i ■) :f: 'dy J I" I i' ) ■■'•' ! It : I I '1 ■ i %-.H n. if 11 \ ,11 ,:. ar):^ I , ■ 1', ,, ■ 1 i m I KA, i' I i«:ttl^ t.'!! mi IV.' r 1^ ill -9 240 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter 315. With regard to arithmetic, it is a branch of learning absolutely necessary to every one, who has any pecuniary transactions beyond those arising out of the expenditure of his week's wages. All the books on this subject that I had ever seen, were so bad, so destitute of every thing calculated to leed the mind into a knowledge of the matter, so void of principles, and so evidently tending to puzzle and disgust the learner, by their sententious, and crab- bed, and quaint, and almost hieroglyphical defini- tions, that I, at one time, had the intention of wri- ting a Uttle work on the subject myself. It was put off, from one cause or another ; but a little work on the subject has been, partly at my suggestion, writ- ten and published by Mr. Thomas Smith of Liver- pool, and is sold by Mr. Sherwood, in London. The author has great ability, and a perfect know- ledge of his subject. It is a book of principles ; and any young person of common capacity, will learn more from it in a week, than from all the other books, that I ever saw on the subject, in a twelvemonth. 316. While the foregoing studies are proceeding, though they very well afford a relief to each other, HISTORY may serve as a relaxation, particularly du- ring the study of grammar, which is an undertaking requiring patience and time. Of all history, that of our own country is of the most importance ; be- cause, for a want of a thorough knowledge of what has been, we are, in many cases, at a loss to account for what is, and still more at a loss to be able to show what ou^ht to be. The difference between history and romance is this ; that that which is narrated in the lat- ter, leaves in the mind nothing which it can apply to present or future circumstances and events ; while the former, when it is what it ought to be, leaves the mind stored with arguments for experience, applica- ble, at all times, to the actual affairs of life. The history of a country ought to show the origin and progress of its institutions, political, civil, and eccle- siastical ; it ought to show the effects of those iiisti- [Letter I VJ TO A FATHER. 241 i a branch of )ne, who has tiose arising wages. All er seen, were iilated to leed er, so void of puzzle and us, and crab- phical defini- ntion of wri- f. It was put little work on [gestion, writ- iTH of Liver- , in London, perfect know- of principles ; capacity, will 1 from all the B subject, in a •6 proceeding, to each other, articularly du- in undertaking history, that iportance ; be- ^ledge of what loss to account e able to show en history and rated in the lat- it can apply to events ; while } be, leaves the ience, applica- ofhfe. The the origin and ivil, and eccle- of those insti- tutions upon the state of the people ; Tt ought to de- lineate the measures of the government at the seve- ral epochs ; and, having clearly described the state of the people at the several periods, it ought to show the cause of their freedom, good morals, and happiness ; or of their misery, immorality, and slavery; and this, too, by the production of indubi- table facts, and of inferences so manifestly fair, as to leave not the smallest doubt upon the mind. 317. Do the histories of England which we have, answer this description 7 They are very little bet- ter than romances. Their contents are generally confined to narrations relating to battles, negocia- tions, intrigues, contests between rival sovereignties, rival nobles, and to the character of kings, queens, mistresses, bishops, ministers, and the like; from scarcely any of which can the reader draw any knowledge which is at all applicable to the circum- stances of the present day. 318. Besides this, there is the falsehood ; and the falsehoods contained in these histories, where shall we find any thing to surpass ? Let us take one in- stance. They all tell us that William the Conque- ror knocked down twenty-six parish churches, and laid waste the parishes in order to make the New Forest ; and this in a tract of the very poorest land in England, where the churches must then have stood at about one mile and two hundred yards from each other. The truth is, that all the churches are still standing that were there when William landed, and the whole story is a sheer falsehood from the begin- ning to the end. 319. But, this is a mere specimen of these roman- ices; and that too, with regard to a matter compara- tively unimportant to us. The important falsehoods are, those which misguide us by statement or by in- ference, with regard to the state of the people at the several epochs, as produced by the institutions of the country, or the measures of the Government. It is jalways the object of those who have power in their Ihands, to persuade the people that they are better off 21 ■■<.■'. '•i ir. n. !■ V" 243 COBBElVs ADVICE L Letter W. F-l I, i::e iii^,'- !': 1 (; i 11 '1:';.' , :i !■■"■•; I 'ill ' (I - i ■■ mmi>U' I \ '■ i , •5:^; ;.<(! than their forefathers were : it is the great business of history to show how this matter stands ; and, with respect to this great matter, what are we to learn from any thing tiiat has hitherto been called a history of England ! I remember, that, about a do zen years ago, I was talking with a very clever young man, who had read twice or thrice over the History of England, by different authors ; and that I gave the conversation a turn that drew from him, unperceived by himself, that he did not know how tithes, parishes, poor-rates, church-rates, and the abolition of trial by jury in hundreds of cases, came to be in England ; and, that he had not the smallest idea of the manner in which the Duke of Bedford came to possess the power of taxing our cabbages in Covent-Garden. Yet, this is history. I have done a great deal, with regard to matters of this sort, in my famous History of the Protestant Re- roRMATioN ; for I may truly call that famous, which has been translated and published in all the moden. languages. But, it is reserved for me to write a com- 320. plete history of the country from the earliest times to the present day; and this, God giving me life and health, I shall begin to do in monthly numbers, beginning on the first of September, and in which I shall endeavour to combine brevity with clearness. We do not want to consume our time over a dozen pages about Edward the Third dancing at a ball, picking up a lady's garter, and making that garter the foundation of an order of knighthood, bearing the motto of " Honi soil qui mnl y pense.^^ It is not stuff like this ; but we want to know what was the state of the people ; what were a labourer's wages; what were the prices of the food, and how the la- bourers were dressed in the reign of that great king. What is a young person to imbibe from a history of England, as it is called, like that of Goldsmith? It is a little romance to amuse chiMren ; and the other historians have given us larger romances to amuse lazy persons who are grown up To de- H th all so Y( r, no o^ no iLetterl V.] TO A PATHEH. 243 1 great business ;r stands ; and, A'hat are we to to been called a hatj about a do a very clever thrice over the ithors; and that drew from him, , not know how i-ratesj and the is of cases, came not the smallest )uke of Bedford ng our cabbages history. I have I matters of this Protestant Ke- at famous, which in all the moderi; i '^ to write a com- 1 the earliest times ^ d giving me life [lonthly numbers, ir, and in which 1 ,y with clearness, me over a dozen ancing at a ball, aking that garter ghthood, bearing 'penseP It is not ow what was the labourer's wages; , and how the la- )f that great king. le from a history at of Goldsmith? jhiMren ; and the larger romancfs rown up To de* stroy the effects of these, and to make the people know what their country has been, will be my ob- ject ; and this, I trust, I shall effect. We are, it is said, to have a History of England from Sm James Mackintosh ; a History of Scotland from Sm Wal- ter Scott ; and a History of Ireland from Tommy Moore, the luscious poet. A Scotch lawyer, who is a pensioner, and a member for Knaresborough, which is well known to the Duke of Devonshire, who has the great tithes of twenty parishes in Ire- land, will, doubtless, write a most impartial History of England, and particularly as far as relates to horoughs and tithes. A Scotch romance-writer, who, under the name of Malagrowiher^ wrote a pamplet to prove, that one-pound notes were the cause of riches to Scotland, will write, to be sure, a most instructive History of Scotland. And, from the pen of an Irish poet, who is a sinecure place- man and a protege of an English peer that has im- mense parcels of Irish confiscated estates, what a '-."putiful history shall we not then have of unfortu^ G 9 Ireland ! Oh, no ! We are not going to be content with stuff such as these men will bring out^ Hume and Smollett and Robertson have cheated us long enough. We are not in a humour to be cheat- ed any longer. 321. Geography is taught at schools, if we be- lieve the school-cards. The scholars can tell you all about the divisions of the earth, and this is very well for persons who have leisure to indulge their curio- sity; but it does seem to me monstrous that a young person's time should be spent in ascertaining the boundaries of Persia or China, knowing nothing all the while about the boundaries, the rivers, the soil, or the products, or of the any thing else of Yorkshire or Devonshire. The first thing in geo- igraphy is to know that of the country in which we live, especially that in which we were born ; I have now seen almost every hill and valley in it with my own eyes ; nearly every city and every town, and no small part of the whole of the villages. I am U 244 cobbett's advice [Letter u:m^^¥ therefore qualified to give an account of the country; and that account, under the title of Geographical Dictionary of England and Wales, I am now ha- ving printed as a companion to my history. ^ 322. When a young man well understands the geography of his own country ; when he has refer- red to maps on this smaller scale : when, in short, he knows ail about his own country ; and is able to apply his knowledge to useful purposes, he may look at other countries, and particularly at those, the powers or measures of which are likely to affect his own country. It is of great importance to us to be well acquainted with the extent of France, the Uni- ted States, Portugal, Spain, Mexico, Turkey, and Russia ; but what need we care about the tribes of Asia and Africa, the condition of which can affect us no more than we would be affected by any thing that is passing in the moon ? 323. When people have nothing useful to do, they may indulge their curiosity ; but, merely to read books, is not to be industrious, is not to study, and is not the way to become learned. Perhaps there are none more lazy, or more truly ignorant, than your everlasting readers. A book is an admirable excuse for sitting still ; and, a man who has con- stantly a newspaper, a magazine, a review, or some book or other in his hand, gets, at last, his head stuffed with such a jumble, that he knows not what to think about any thing. An empty coxcomb, that wastes his time in dressing, strutting, or strolling about, and picking his teeth, is certainly a most despicable creature, but scarcely less so than a mere reader of books, who is generally conceited, thinks himself wiser than other men, in proportion to the number of leaves that he has turned over. In short, a young man should bestow his time upon no book, the contents of which he cannot apply to some use- ful purpose. 324. Books of travel, of biography, natural histo- 1 ry, and particularly such as relate to agriculture and j horticulture, are all proper, when leisure is afforded , ill. [Letter I 'V-l TO A FATHER. 245 ■i of the country; ' Geographical I am now ha- Lstory.' tiderstands the ►n he has refer- «rhen, in short, ; and is able to poseSj he may rly at those, the :ely to affect his iance to us to be ♦"ranee, the Uni- 0, Turkey, and >ut the tribes of which can affect ;ed by any thing g useful to do, ; but, merely to , is not to study, d. Perhaps there f ignorant, than L is an admirable in who has con- review, or some it last, his head knows not what )ty coxcomb, that ting, or strolling certainly a most ss so than a mere conceited, thinks proportion to the d over. In short, ne upon no book, iply to some nse- )hy, natural histo- agriculture and leisure is afforded for them ; and the two last are useful to a very great part of mankind ; but unless the subjects treated of are of some interest to us in our affairs, no time should be wasted upon them, when there are so many duties demanded at our hands by our families and our country. A man may read books for ever, and be an ignorant creature at last, and even the more ignorant for his reading. 325. And, with regard to young women, everlast- ing book -reading is absolutely a vice. When they once get into the habit, they neglect all other matters, and, in some cases, even their very dress. Attend- ing to the affairs of the house ; to the washing, the baking, the brewing, the preservation and cook- ing of victuals, the management of the poultry and the garden ; these are their proper occupations. It is said (with what truth I know not) of the present Queen (wife of William IV.,) that she was an active * excellent manager of her house. Impossible to be- stow on her greater praise : and I trust that her ex- ample will have its due effect on the young women of the present day, who stand, but too generally, in need of that example. 326. The great fault of the present generation, is, that, in all ranks, the notions of self-importance are too high. This has arisen from causes not visible to many, but the consequences are felt by all, and that, too, with great severity. There has been a general sublimating going on for many years. Not to put the word Esquire before the name of almost any man who is not a mere labourer or artizan, is almost an affront. Every merchant, every master- manufacturer, every dealer, if at all rich, is an Es- quire ; squires' sons must he gentlemen., and squires' wives and daughters ladies. If this were all; if it were merely a ridiculous misapplication of words, the evil would not be great ; but, unhappily, words lead to acts and produce things ; and the " young gentleman^'* is not easily to be moulded into a trades- man or a working farmer. And yet the world is too small to hold so many gentlemen and ladiet, 21* iN ■ f p il .iiM '': t ! i^!'; ■ ' 1 i^ 'si 'k ; ■; n' ■ '■\< :%r^m i ■ m i 1 1 ■ ^* 246 COBBETT^S ADVICE [Letter How many thousands of young men have, at this moment, cause to lament that they are not carpen- ters, or masons, or tailors, or shoemakers ; and how many thousands of those, that they have been bred up to wish to disguise their honest and useful, and therefore honourable, calling ! Rousseau observes, - that men are happy, first, in proportion to their vir- tue, and next, in proportion to their independence; and that, of all mankind, the artizan, or craftsman, is the most independent ; because he carries about in his own hands and person, the means of gaining his livelihood ; and that the more common the use of the articles on which he works, the more perfect his independence. " Where," says he, " there is one " man that stands in need of the talents of the den- " tist, there are a hundred thousand that want those ** of the people who supply the matter for the teeth " to work on ; and for one who wants a sonnet to " regale his fancy, there are a million clamouring " for men to make or mend their shoes." Aye, and this is the reason, why shoemakers are proverbially the most independent part of the people, and why they, in general, show more public spirit than any other men. He who lives by a pursuit, be it what it may, which does not require a considerable degree oi bodily labour, must, from the nature of things, be, more or less, a dependent ; and this is, indeed, the price which he pays for his exemption from that bodily labour. He may arrive at riches, or fame, or both ; and this chance he sets against the certainty of independence in humbler life. There always have been, there always will be, and there always ought to be, some men to take this chance ; but to do this has become the fashion, and a fashion it is the most fatal that ever seized upon a community. 327. With regard to young women, too, to sing, to play on instruments of music, to draw, to speak Frencn, and the like, are very agreeable qualifica- tions ; but why should thev ail be musicians, and painters, and linguists 1 Why all of them ? Who, then, is there left to take care of the houses of far- , [Letter have, at this re not carpen- Lers J and how lave been bred nd useful, and sEAU observes, on to their vir- independence ; , or craftsman, J carries about ;ans of gaming jmmon the use le more perfect le, " there is one ents of the den- that want those ter for the teeth mts a sonnet to [ion clamouring oes." Aye, and are proverbially )eople, and why e spirit than any rsuit, be it what isiderable degree ure of things, be, s is, indeed, the jption from that ches, or fame, or nst the certainty There always ind there always ;hance ; but to do I fashion it is the lommunity. aen, too, to sine, ,0 draw, to speak reeable quahfica- e musicians, and of them 1 Who, the houses of far- V.J ^0 A FATHER. fur men and traders ? But there is something in these '* accomplishments" worse than this ; namely, that they think themselves too high for farmers and tra- ders : and this, in fact, they are j much too high ; and, therefore, the servant-girls step in and supply their place. If they could see their own interest, surely they would drop this lofty tone, and these lofty airs. It is, however, the fault of the parents, and particularly of the father, whose duty it is to prevent them from imbibing such notions, and to show them, that the greatest honour they ought to aspire t< *s, th'>'*ough skill and care in the economy of a hca«e. e are all apt to r t " ^o high a value on what we ou* . v;lveshave done ; and I may do this ; but I do firmly believe, that to cure any young w^o- man of this fatal sublimation, she has only patiently to read mjr Cottage Economy, written with an anxious desire to promote domestic skill and ability in that sex, on whom so much of the happiness of man must always depend. A lady in Worcester- shire told me, that until she read Cottage Economy she had never baked in the house, and had sel- dom had good beer ; that, ever since, she had looked after both herself; that the pleasure she had derived from it, was equal to the profit, and that the latter was very great. She said, that the article " on bar king brecui,^^ was the part that roused her to the undertaking ; and, indeed, if the facts and argu- ments, there made use of, failed to stir her up to ac- tion, she must have been stone dead to the power of words. ; 328. After the age that we have now been suppo- sing, boys and girls become men and women ; and, there now only remains iotihQ father to act towards them with impartiality. If they be numerous, or, indeed, if they be only two in number, to expect wrfect harmony to reign amongst, or between, them, IS to be unreasonable ; because experience shows us, that, even amongst the most sober, most virtuous, and most sensible, harmony so complete is very rare. By nature they are rivals for the affection and - ' * I 1 i! 248 COBBErr'« ADVICE [Letter h 'i i J, !! ,♦, : i m Li ■ i ■' ^^i. ' applatise of the parents ; in personal and mental endowments they become rivals ; and, when pecuni' ary interests come to be well understood and to have their weight, here is a rivalship, to prevent which from ending in hostility, require more affection and greater disinterestedness than fall to the lot of one out of one hundred families. So many instances have I witnessed of good and amiable families living in harmony, till the hour arrived for dividing pro- perty amongst them, and then, all at once, becoming hostile to each other, that I have often thought that property, coming in such a way, was a curse, and that the parties would have been far better off, had the parent had merely a blessing to bequeath them from his or her lips, instead of a will for them to dis- pute and wrangle over. 329. With regard to this matter, all that the father can do, is to be impartial; but, impartiality does not mean positive equality in the distribution, but equality in proportion to the different deserts of the parties, their different wants, their different pecunia- ry circumstances, and different prospects in life; and these vary so much, in different families, that it is impossible to lay down any general rule upon the subject. But there is one fatal error, against which every father ought to guard his heart ; and the kind- er that heart is, the more necessary such guardian- ship. I mean the fatal error of heaping upon one child, to the prejudice of the rest ; or, upon a part of them. This partiality sometimes arises from mere caprice ; sometimes from the circumstance of the favourite being more favoured by nature than the rest ; sometimes from the nearer resemblance to himself, that the father sees in the favourite ; and, sometimes, from the hope of preventing the favour- ed party from doing that which would disgrace the Sarent. All these motives are highly censurable, ut the last is the most general, and by far the most mischievous in its effects. • How many fathers have been ruined, how many mothers and famiHes brought to beggary, how many industrious and vir- i-i ■u ;« 4 i? m [Letter and mental when pecuni- d and to have revent which ! affection and Ihe lot of one my instances families living ■ dividing pro- nce, becoming I thought that s a curse, and better off, had )equeath them or them to dis- that the father partiality does istribution, but t deserts of the ferent pecunia- (spects in life; families, that it 1 rule upon the , against which ; and the kind- such guardian- ping upon one or, upon a part es arises from jjrcumstance of by nature than resemblance to favourite; and, ting the favour- uld disgrace the rhly censurable, by far the most iny fathers have •s and famihes wtrious and vir- V.] TO A FATHER. 249 tuous groups have been pulled down from compe- tence to penury, from the desire to prevent one from bringing shame on the parent ! So that, con- trary to every principle of justice, the bad is re- warded for the badness ; and the good punished for the goodness. Natural affection, remembrance of infantine endearments, reluctance to abandon long- cherished hopes, compassion for the sufferings of your own flesh and blood, the dread of fatal consequences, from your adhering to justice; all these beat at your heart, and call on you to give way : but, you must resist them all ; or, your ru- in, and that of the rest of your family, are de- creed. Suffering is the natural and just punishment of idleness, drunkenness, squandering, and an indul- gence in the society of prostitutes ; and never did the world behold an instance of an offender, in this way, reclaimed but by the infliction of this punish- ment; particularly, if the society of prostitutes made part of the offence ; for, here is something that takes the heart from you. Nobody ever yet saw, and nobody ever will see, a young man, linked to a prostitute, and retain, at the same time, any, even the smallest degree of affection, for parents or brethren. You may supplicate, you may implore, you may leave yourself pennyless, and your virtu- ous children without bread ; the invisible cormorant will still call for more j and, as we saw, only the other day, a wretch was convicted of having, at the instigation of his prostitute, beaten his aged mother^ to get from her the small remains of the means necessary to provide her with food. In Heron's collection of God's judgment on wicked acts, it is related of an unnatural son, who fed his aged father upon orts and offal, lodged him in a filthy and crazy garret, and clothed him in sackcloth, while he and his wife and children lived in luxury ; that, having bought sackcloth enough for two dresses for his father, the children took away the part not made up, and hid it, and that, upon asking them what they could do this for, they told him that they meant ■Jl it Ml' I "\\ ■r n iU '. !■}<■ '■■ 250 eOBBETT^S ADVICB [Letter to keep it far him. when he should become old and walk with a stick ! This, the autiior relates, pierced his heart ; and, indeed, if this failed, he must have had the heart of a tiger ; but, even this would not succeed with the associate of a prostitute. . When this vice, this love of the society of prostitutes ; when this vice has once got fast hold, vain are all your sacrifices, vain your prayers, vain your hopes, vain your anxious desire to disguise the shame from the world ; and, if you have acted well your part, no part of that shame falls on you, unless you have administered to the cause of it. Your authority has ceased ; the voice of the prostitute, or the charms of the bottle, or the rattle of the dice, has been more powerful than your advice and example ; jom must lament this : but, it is not to bow you down ; and, above all things, it is weak, and even criminally sel- fish, to sacrifice the rest of your family, in order to keep from the world the knowledge of that, which, if known, would, in your view of the matter, bring shame on yourself. 330. Let me hope, however, that this is a calamity which will befall very few good fathers ; and that, of all such, the sober, industrious, and frugal habits of their children, their dutiful demeanor, their truth and their integrity, will come to smooth the path of their downward days, and be the objects on which their eyes will close. Those children must, in their turn, travel the same path ; and they may be assured, that, " Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land," is a precept, a disre- gard of which never yet failed, either first or last, to bring its punishment. And, what can be more just than that signal punishment should follow such a crime ; a crime directly against the voice of nature itself? Youth has its passions, and due allowance justice will make for these ; but, are the delusions of the boozer, the gamester, or the harlot, to be pleaded in excuse for a disregard of the source of your existence? Are those to be pleaded in apo- logy for giving pain to the father who has toijed [Letter !ome old and lates, pierced e must have 18 would not lute. ^ When prostitutes ; I, vain are all 1 your hopes, e shame from ill your part, iless you have authority has the charms of ias been more )le ; 3^ou must u down ; and, criminally sel- ily, in order to of that, which, B matter, bring ,s is a calamity •s; and that, of frugal habits of or, their truth looth the path )jects on which I must, in their nay be assured, lother, that thy recept, a disre- • first or last, to an be more just follow such a voice of nature due allowance ^ the delusions e harlot, to be f the source of pleaded in apo- who has toijed v.] TO ▲ CITIZEN. 251 half a life-time in order to feed and clothe you, and to the mother whose breast has been to you the fountain of life ? Go, you, and shake the hand of the boon-companion ; take the greedy harlot to your arms : mock at the tears of your tender and anxious parents ; and, when your purse is empty and your complexion faded, receive the poverty and the scorn due to your base ingratitude ! LETTER VL TO THE CITIZEN. 33L Having now given my Advice to the Yodth, the grown-up Man, the Lover, the Husband and the Father, I shall, in this concluding Number, tender my Advice to the Citizen, in which capacity every man has rights to enjoy and duties to perform, and these too of importance not inferior to those which belong to him, or are imposed upon him, as son, pa- rent, husband or father. The word citizen is not, in hs applicatfbn, confined to the mere inhabitants of cities : it m^ans, a member of a civil society, or cowi- munity ; and, in order to have a clear comprehension of man's rights and duties in this capacity, we must take a look at the origin of civil communities, 332. Time was when the inhabitants of this island, for instance, laid claim to all thftig^n it, without thb words ovmer or property being known. God had given to all the people all the land and all the trees, and every thing else, just as he has given the bur- rows and the grass to the rabbits, and the bushes and the berries to the birds ; and each man had the good things of this world in a greater or less degree in proportion to his skill, his strength and his valour. This is what is called living under the Law of Na- J I 252 C0BBBT1''S AOYICS [Letter :) • TCRB ; that is to say, the law of self-preservation avd self-enjoyment, without any restraint imposed by a regard for the good of our neighbours. 333. In process of time, no matter from what cause, men made amongst themselves a compact, or an agreement, to divide the land and its p':oauct8 in such manner that each should have a sh.>re to his own exclusive use, and that each man should be protected in the exclusive enjoyment of his share by the tmited power of the rest ; and, in order to ensure the due and certain application of this united power, the whole of the people agreed to be bound by regu- lations, called Laws. Thus arose civil society ; thus arose property ; thus arose the words mine and thine. One man became possessed of more good things than another, because he was more industrious, more skil- ful, more careful, or more frugal : so that labour, of one sort or another, was the basis of all property. 334. In what manner civil societies proceeded in providing for the making of laws and for the enforc- ing of them; the various ways in which they took measures to protect the weak against the strong ; how they have gone to work to secure wealth against the attacks of poverty ; these are subjects that it would require volumes to detail : but these tniths are written on the heart of man : that jiU men are, by nature, equal ; that civi| snpjpty na^ n ^y?^ ]\ii3 M. arisen fro m any mo tive o^^er than that of the ben efit ^ the w hole, i ^ Xh aiU whenever civil soci ety makes the gffiatftr part W flip lipq^le^ wn rtse off than thev Wer e under the Law of Nature^ the civil c om pa^ct is^ in dftnscience. (jissoive a, ana all tne rights of nature I'euirn ; tiiat, m flvii* society, the rights and the du- ties go hand in hand^ and that, when the former are taken away, the latter cease to exist. 335. Now, then, in order to act well our part, as citizens, or members of the community, we ought clearly to understand whut mir rights are ; for, on our enjoyment of these depend our duties, rights going before duties, as value received goes before payment. I know well, that just the contrary of ^!.'^ V^ jl^ [Letter crvation ar^ nposed by a • from what I compact, or 8 products in a sh^re to his lan should be [his share by •der to ensure united power, ound by regu- [ society ; thus nine and thim, od things than ous, more skil- that LABOUR, of all property. s proceeded in for the enforc- hich they took LSt the strong ; wealth against subjects that it It these truths ill men are. neYe iJia»» fi t pf the ben efit n.] TO A CITIZEN. 253 ei etv makes jhe "^n theY_wer ^ coi igKTs'of nature rhts and the du- the former are ,/ell our part, as tnity,we ought Ms are ; for, on [r duties, rights jved goes before the contrary of this is taught in our political schools, where we are told, that our Jirat duty is to obey the laws ; and it is not many years ago, that Horsley, Bishop of Ro- chester told us, that the people had nothing to do with the laws but to obey them. The truth is, how- ever, that the citizen's first duty is to maintain his rights, as it is the purchaser's first duty to receive the thing for which he has contracted. 336. Qur rights in society are numerous; the right of "enjoying Hie and property; the rigm of exerting our physical and mental powers in an in- nocent manner ; but^ the great right of all, and with- out which t here is. in lact, no risrht^ is, tn^ riprht. nr _ tafnnsr apart in the mafciwsf of the laws by which we are governed , 'rhis rig'^U? t'^^ mrififi in that la w nf Nature spoken of'liEovej it sp '^jri^rfi nut ^f ♦h^ v^x-'^ princi ple oi civil society; jor what comp a ct. what ^ agreement, what common assent, can pot;3iT>ly bft~ ima gined by 9iU4i«rii;)i&WiSni iEIhe of nature, all the free e nj^ympnt. nf thpir hnHips jij^d* their minda^ in of(\px tn Rii^j^-?^ Ih^r^^^lv^w to iilpfl, g, in the making of which the y *'^^^n\^ hq^» nothinsf to say, and which should be en ortodjapfin-. tnej iL without tneir a ssefttl The great"right,'there- {ore^i~evety maw, the" right of rights, is the right of having a share in the making of the laws, to which the good of the whole makes it his duty to submit. 337. With regard to the means of enabling every man to enjoy this share, they have been different, in different countries, and, in the same countries, at diflferent times. Generally it has been, and in great communities it must be, by the r'hoosing of a few to speak and act in behalf of the r (my: and, as there I will hardly ever be perfect unanimity amongst men j assembled for any purpose whatever, where fact and I argument are to decide the question, the decision is left to the majority^ the compact being that the de- cision of the majority shall be that of the whole. iMnors are excluded from this right, because the law jconsiders them as infants, because it makes the pa** 22 -.1 1 11 i! i li -■*s^- 254 COBBETT'S ADVICE [Letter «r i m,wmMm' i-f ^Bm'' m ;';r»jf,t it!| rent answerable for civil damages committed by them, and because of their legal incapacity to make any compact. Women are excluded because husbands are answerable in law for their wives, as to their civil damages, and because the very nature of their sex makes the exercise of this right incompatible with the harmony and happiness of society. Men stained with indelible crimes are excluded, because they have forfeited their right by violating ^he laws, to which their assent has been given. Insane pet^- sons are excluded, because they are dead in the eye of the law, because the law demands no duty at their hands, because they cannot violate the law, because the law cannot aSfect them; and, therefore, they Ought to have no hand in making it. ^ ^ 338. But, with these exceptions, where is the, ground whereon to maintain that any man ought to 'be deprived of this right, which he derives directly ^from the law of Nature, and which springs, as I said 'before, out of the same source with civil society it, self? Am I told, that property ought to confer this 'right ? Property sprang from labour, and not labour from property J so that if there were to be a distinc- tion here, it ought to give the preference to labour. All men are equal by nature ; nobody denies that they all ought to be equal in the eye of the law ; but, how are they to be thus equal, if the law begin by suffering some to enjoy this right and refusing the enjoyment to others ? It is the duty of every man to defend his country against an enemy, a duty im- posed by the law of Nature as well as by that of civil society, and without the recognition of this duty, there could exist no independent nation and no civil fiociety. Yet, how are you to maintain that this is the duty of every mun, if you deny to some men the enjoyment of a share in making the laws ? Upon what principle are you to contend for equality here, while you deny its existence as to the right of shar- ing in the making of the laws 1 The poor man has a body and a soul as well as the rich man; like the latter, he has parents, wife and children; a bullet or ^ [Letter )minitted by tcity to make luse husbands s, as to their ature of their incompatible jociety. Men luded, because iting ihe laws, . Insane pe?'- ead in the eye o duty at their lc law, because herefore, they where is the, / man ought to ierives directly prings, as I said civil society it, it to confer this , and not labour to be a distinc- rence to labour, dy denies that ^the law ; but, le law begin by ind refusing the y of every man my, a duty im- 3 by that of civil )n of this duty, ion and no civil Ltain that this is to some men the e laws? Upon or equality here, herightofshar- lie poor man has shman; like the irenj a bullet or n.] TO A ClTlZEIf. 955 a sword is as deadly to him as to the rich man ; there are hearts to ache and tears to flow for him as well as for the squire or the lord or the loan-monger: yet, notwithstanding this equality, he is to risk all, and, if he escape, he is still to be denied an equality of rights ! If, in such a state of things, the artisan or labourer, when called out to fight in defence of his country, were to answer: "Why should I risk my " life ? I have no possession but my labour ; no ene- " my will take that from me ; you, the rich, possess " all the land and all its products ; you make what " laws you please without my participation or assent ; " 5'ou punish me at your pleasure ; you say that my " want of property excludes me from the right of " having a share in the making of the laws ; you say " that the property that I have in my labour is no^ " thin^ worth ; on what ground, then, do you call " on me to risk my life ?" If, in such a case, such !i m \\\> Lte li: k'il i: rfe !iR"' >>- ■i- the parish-bookj would you break the last heart- string of such a man by making him feel the degra- ding loss of his political rights? 342. Here, young man of sense and of spirit ; Tiere is the point on which you are to take your stand. There are always men enough to plead the cause of the rich j enough and enough to echo the woes of the fallen great; but, be it your part to show com- passion for those who labour, and to maintain tlieir rights. Poverty is not a crime, and, though it some- times arises from faults, it is not, even in that case, to be visited by punishment beyond that which it brings with itself. Remember, that poverty is de- creed by the very nature of man. The Scripture says, that " the poor shall never cease from out of the land ;" that is to say, that there shall always be some very poor people. This is inevitable from the very nature of things. It is necessary to the exist- ence of mankind, that a very large portion of every people should hve by manual labour ; and, as such labour is pain, more or less, and as no living crea- ture likes pain, it must be, that the far greater part of labouring people will endure only just as much of this pain as is absolutely necessary to the supply of their daily wants. Experience says that this has always been, and reason and nature tell us, that this must always be. Therefore, when ailments, when losses, when untoward circumstances of any sort, stop or diminish the daily supply, want comes : and every just government will provide, from the gene- ral stock, the means to satisfy this want. 343. Nor is the deepest poverty without its useful ^ects in society. To the practice of the virtues of abstinence, sobriety, care, frugality, industry, and even honesty and amiable manners and acquirement of talent, the two great motives are, to get upwards in riches or fame, and to avoid going dSumwards to poverty, the last of which is the most powerful oi the two. It is, [therefore, not with contempt, but with compassion, that we should look on tnose, whose state is one of the decrees of nature from tf* [Letter last heart- el the degra- id of spirit ; e your stand, the cause of > the woes of [) show com- laintain tlieir Dugh it some- in that case, that which it joverty is de- rhe Scripture e from out of tiall always be [table from the :y to the exist- )rtion of every • ; and, as such no living crea- :ar greater part ^ just as much y to the supply ys that this has ell us, that this ailments, when es of any sort, xnt comes : and from the gene- ant. ithout its useful )f the virtues of , industry, and md acquirement to get upwards g' d(yumward8 to ost powerful 01 I contempt, but look on those, of nature from VI.] TO A CITIZEN. 259 whose sad example we profit, and to whom. In re- turn, we ought to make compensation by every in- dulgent and kind act in our power, and particularly by a defence of their rights. To those who labour, we, who labour not with our hands, owe all that we eat, drink and wear ; all that shades us by day and that shelters us by night ; all the means of enjoying health and pleasure ; and, therefore, if we possess talent for the task, we are ungrateful or cowardly, or both, if we omit any effort within our power to pre- vent them from being slaves ; and, disguise the mat- ter how we may, a slave, a real slave, every man is, who has no share in making the laws which he is compelled to obey. 344. What is a slave 7 For, let us not be amused by a name ; but look well into the matter. A slave is, in the first place, a man who has no property ; and property means something that he has, and that nobody can take from him without his leave, or consent. Whatever man, no matter what he may call himself or any body else may call him, can have his money or his goods taken from him hy farce, by virtue of an order, or ordinance, or law, which he has had no hand in making, and to which he has not given his assent, has wo pr(yperty, and is merely a depositary of the goods of his master. A slave has no property in his labour ; and any man who is compelled to give up the fruit of his labour to ano- ther, at the arbitrary will of that other, has no pro- perty in his labour, and is, therefore, a slave, whether the fruit of his labour be taken from him directly or indirectly. If it be said, that he gives up this fruit of his labour by his own will, and that it is not for- ced from him, I answer. To be sure he may avoid eating and drinking and may go naked ; but, then he must die ; and on this condition, and this condition only, can he refuse to give up the fruit of his labour ; "Die, wretch, or surrender as much of your income, or the fruit of your labour as your masters choose to take." This is, in fact, the language of the rulers il:\, M 260 COBBETT'8 advicb [Letter } I'l <'- -ik' •"■■4. Hi''' i "^.f"^- to every man who is refused to have a share in the making of the laws to which he ia forced to submit. 345. But, some one may say, slaves arc private property, and may be bought and sold, out and out, like cattle. And, what is it to the slave, whether he be property of one or of many ; or, what matters it to him, whether he pass from master to master by a sale for an indefinite term, or be let to hire by the year, month, or week ? It is, in no case the flesh and blood and bones that are sold, but the labour ; and, if you actually sell the labour of man, is not that man a slave, though you sell it for only a short time at once ? And, as to the principle, so ostentatiously displayed in the case of the black slave-trade, that ** man ought not to have a property in man,^^ it is €ven an advantage to the slave to be private proper- ty, because the owner has then a clear and powerful interest in the preservation of his life, health and strength, and will, therefore, furnish him amply with the food and raiment necessary for these ends. Eve- ry one knows, that public property is never so well taken care of as private property ; and this, too, on the maxim, that " that which is every body's business is nobody's business." Every one knows that a rented farm is not so well kept in heart, as a farm in the hands of the owner. And, as to punishments and restraints, what difference is there, whether these be inflicted and imposed by a private owner, or his overseer, or by the agents and overseers of a body of proprietors ? In short, if you can cause a man to be imprisoned or whipped if he do not work enough to please you ; if you can sell him by auction for a time limited ; if you can forcibly separate him from his wife to prevent their having children ; if you can shut him up in his dwelling place when you please, and for as long a time as you please ; if you can force him to draw a cart or wagon like a beast of | draught; if you can, when the humour seizes you, and at the suggestion of your mere fears, or whim, cause him to be shut up in a dungeon during you: .«.' , [Letter ^ Bhare in the :ed to submit. 3 arc pritate [, out and out, e, whether he ^hat matters it to master by a to hire by the le the flesh and e labour ; and, m, is not that ly a short time \ ostentatiously ilave-trade, that nn vnan^''^ it is private proper- ar and powerful life, health and him amply with hese ends. Eve- is never so well knd this, too, on body's business ; knows that a !art, as a farm in punishments and ;, whether these ite owner, or his seers of a body of ause a man to be work enough to motion for a time ate him from his iren -, if you can when you please, lease ; if you can )n like a beast of imour seizes you, ■6 fears, or whim, jeon during yo^i: VI.] TO A CITIZT2N. 261 pleasure : if you can, at your pleasure, do these things to him, is it not to be impudently hypocritical to affect to call him a free-man 7 But, after all, these may all be wanting, and yet the man be a slave, if he be allowed to have no property ; anJ, as I have shown, no property he can nave, not even in that labour, which is not only property, but the basis of all other property, unless he have a share in making' the laws to which he is compelled to submit. 346. It is said, that he may have this share virtu- ally though not in form and name ; for that his em- ployers may have such share, and they will, as a matter of course, act for him. This doctrine, push- ed home, would make the chief of the nation the sole maker of the laws ; for, if the rich can thus act for the poor, why should not the chief act for the rich ? This matter is very completely explained by the practice in the United States of America. There the maxim is, that every free man, with the exception of men stained with crime and men in- sane, has a right to have a voice in choosing those who make the laws. The number of Representa- tives sent to the Congress is, in each State, propor- tioned to the number of /rjj people. But, as there are slaves in so7ne of the States, these States have a certain portion of additional numbers on account of those slaves. Thus the slaves are represented by their owners ; and this is real, practical, open and undisguised virtual representation ! No doubt that white men may be represented in the same way ; for the colour of the skin is nothing ; but let them be called slaves, then ; let it not be pretended that they are free men ; let not the word liberty be polluted by being applied to their state : let it be openly and honestly avowed, as in America, that they are slaves; and then will come the question whether men ought to exist in such a state, or whether they ought to do every thing in their power to rescue themselves from it. 347. If the right to have a share in making the ■« M' 262 oobbett's advice [Letter *'■ i ni I If .•■ii( ill. !. Sfl fi ' ■ju,;-;, . t laws were merely a feather ; if it were a fanciful thing ; if it were only a speculative theory ; if it were but an abstract principle j on any of these suppositions, it might be considered as of little im- portance. But it is none of these ; it is a practical matter ; the want of it not only is, but must of ne- cessity be, felt by every man who lives under that want. If it were proposed to the shopkeepers in a town, that a rich man or two, living in the neigh- bourhood, should have power to send, whenever Uiey pleased, and take away as much as they pleased of the money of the shopkeepers, and apply it to what uses they please ; what an outcry the shopkeepers would make ! And yet, what would this be more than taxes imposed on those who have no voice in clioosing the persons who impose them 7 Who lets another man put his hand into his purse wlien he pleases ? Who, that has the power to help himself, surrenders his goods or his money to the will of another ? Has it not always been, and must it not always be, true, that, if your property be at the ab- solute disposal of others, your ruin is certain? And if this be, of necessity, the case amongst individuals and parts of the community, it must be the cnsc with regard to the whole community. 348. Aye, and experience shows us that it always has been the case. The natural and inevitable con- sequences of a want of this right in the people have, in all countries, been .•" .5*', ... * ■%: ». «'-• % §■■ iA Jt LLetter VI. rotect defencc- I of powerful my own son, you. Be just, ppy; and the B degree, have idd to the hap- •vant, )BBETT. *"^