IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

■^ 122 i2.2
ju u^ Ik

IS 1^ 12.0

■tub

^V.^ «

Hiotographic

Sciences

(jQrporalion

Lt>^

-«^

3) wnT MAM f nm

witntt,N.Y. i4sn

(71*)a79.4S03

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHIVI/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibllographique*

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

I I Covers damaged/

Couverture endommagie

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaur^ et/ou pellicul6e

I I Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

I I Coloured maps/

Cartes g^ographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/

Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
ReiiA avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La re liure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge intirieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches aJoutAes
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela Atait po! ibie, ces pages n'ont
pas it6 filmies.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires supplAmentaires:

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

L'Institut a microfilm6 le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a At* possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la mtthode normale de filmage
sont indiquAs ci-dessous.

I I Coloured pages/

Pages de couleur

Pages damaged/
Pages endommag6es

Pages restored and/oi

Pages restaurtes et/ou peliiculAes

Pages discoloured, stained or foxet
Pages d6colortes, tacheties ou piqu6es

Pages detached/
Pages ditachies

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of prir

Qualit^ inigale de I'impression

Includes supplementary materii
Comprend du materiel supplAmentaire

Only edition available/
Seule Mition disponible

I — I Pages damaged/

r~-\ Pages restored and/or laminated/

Fy] Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/

I I Pages detached/

r~p\ Showthrough/

I I Quality of print varies/

I I Includes supplementary material/

I — I Only edition available/

Thi
toi

The
poi
ofl

filR

Ori|
beg
the
sioi
oth
firs
sioi
or I

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuiliet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont AtA filmAes A nouveau de fapon A
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

The
sha
TIN
whi

Mai
diffi
enti
beg
righ
reqi
met

Cede
10X

icum

snt e

stfil

me au tau
14X

xde

rtdu

ction
18X

lndl<

iu* c

i-des

sous
22X

26X

aox

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

'•^^^s^r'

The copy filmed her* has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

Mills IMMnorial Library
MdMatttr Univsnity

L'exemplaire filmA fut reproduit grice A la
gtnArositA de:

IMiHsMtmorialLRirsry
McMatttr Univsnity

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and In keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

Las Images suivantes ont 4tA reproduites avec ie
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition at
de la nettetA de l'exemplaire film*, et en
conformity avec ies conditions du contrat de
fllmage.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or Illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimie sont fiimte en commenpant
par Ie premier plat et en termlnant solt par la
dernlAre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'Impression ou d'illustration, solt par Ie second
plat, salon Ie cas. Tous les autres exempleires
originaux sont fllmfo en commen9ant par la
premiere page qui comporte une empreinte
d'Impression ou d'iilustratlon et en termlnant par
la dernlAre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol ^^- (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Un dee symboles suivants apparaftra sur la
dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, selon ie
cas: Ie symbols -*- signlfie "A SUIVRE", Ie
symbols y signlfie "FIN".

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely Included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tabieeux, etc., peuvent Atre
filmfo A des taux de reduction diffirents.
Lorsque Ie document ost trop grand pour Atre
reproduit en un seul ciichA, ii est film* A partir
de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant Ie nombre
d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
lilustrent la m^thode.

32X

Mil

ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN,

AND (incidentally) TO

YOUNG WOMEN,

IN TU£

MIDDLE AND HIGHER RANKS OF LIFE.

IN A SERIES OF LETTEHS^ ADDRESSED TO

A YOUTH, A BACHBLOll, A LOVER, A HUSBAND,
A CITIZEN OH A SUBJECT.

■%:

BY WIIiLIAM COBBETT.

*-,^. w^-

« /

PUBLIBHED BY JOHN DOYLE, 12 LIBERTY STREET,

Ster»ott/ped try Jamea Conner*
1833.

t^t-

* ti

•^

»> A

'» .. -i

■ .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

-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

>».,

i
I*

V
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

,1
\ J

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.

)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! ''"

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-

t i

1 .1

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.

•■■Ta*sj<

r '.TO A VOUTH.

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

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.

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

•*»

I. y

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

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 ■[

<W-

cobbett's advice I

[Lettei*

i.ii

(!!

liihi
in!

Ljurn ed from patient study and labour^ though these
tfiinpTaenjndanbtcd, they form iid reason why I
should not team you against becoming a victim to
this national scourge. For, in spite of every art
made use of to avoid labour, the taxes will, after all,
maintain only so many idlers. We cannot all be
" knights''* and ^^ gentlemen :^^ there must be a large
part of us, after all, to make and mend clothes and
houses, and carry on trade and commerce, and, in
spite of all that we can do, the far greater part of us
must actually work at something; for, unless we
can get at some of the taxes, we fall under the sen-
tence of Holy Writ, " He who will not work shall

jnot eaty *Jisi9*SQ,SSS}^J^ M^ ^J^^V^^^l^Y ^^ .^^
l^oiyi^i ^^,^^tlemen /* so generat is this' desire
amongst the youihr of this formerly laborious and
unassuming nation ; a nation famed for its pursuit
of wealth through the channels of patience, punctu-
ality, and integrity ; a nation famed for its love of
solid acquisitions and qualities, and its hatred of

(every thing showy and false: so general is this
really fraudulent desire amongst the youth of this
now " speculating'''* nation, that thousands upon
thousands of them are, at this moment, in a state of
half starvation, not so much because they are too
lazy to earn their bread, as because they are too
p^ovd ! And what are the consequences ? Such a
youth remains or becomes, a burden to his parents,
of whom he ought to be the comfort if not the sup-
port. Mways aspiring to something higher than he .
caffTcaCTi, his life is a life ol dlsappoiritment arid of
fihame. If marriage befal him, it is a real affliction,
involving others as well as himself. His lot is a
thousand times worse than that of the commoji la-
bouring pauper. Nineteen times out of twenty a
premature death awaits him : and, alas ! how nume-
rous are the cases in which that death is most mise-
rable, not to say ignominious ! jStJ^mdjpride is oiie '
of the symptons of madness. Of tnFtwo madmen
mentioned in Don Quixote, one thought himself
Neptune and the other Juhter. Shakspeare agrees

I.]

TO A YOUTH.

hese

hyl

mto

f art

r all,

11 be

large

I and

id, in

of us

iS we

B sen-
shall

to be

desire

IS and

ursuit

unctu-

ove of

red of

Is this

)f this
upon

tate of

re too

>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

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-

TO A YOUTH.

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

oobbett's ADvicn

[Lottcr

ii! I

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

TO A YOUTH,

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-

IP-

cobbett's advicb

[Letter

I III!

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

TO A YOUtH.

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

^ 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 f<n-
t tlm

) will
li\evo
ty of

1. 1

TO A YOUTH.

going to the cupboard and cutting off a slice of meat
or cheese and a bit of bread. She will, most likely,
toast your bread for you, too, and melt your butter j
and then muffle you up, in winter, and send you out
almost swaddled. Really such a thing can hardly be
expected ever to become a w«w. You are weak ;
you have delicate health; you are " bilious /" Why,
my good fellow, it is these very slops that make you
weak and bilious ; and, indeed, the poverty, the real
poverty, that they and their concomitants bring on
you, greatly assists, in more ways than one, in pro-
ducing your " delicate health."
33. So much for indulgences in eating, drinking
and dress. Next, as to amitsenients. It is recorded,
of the famous Alfred that he devoted eight hours of
the twenty-four to labour, eight to r^est, and eight to
recreation. He was, however, a kiri^, ond coiUd be
ihhikiiig during the eight hours of recreation. It is
certain, that there ought to be hours of recreation,
and I do not know that eight are too many ; but, then
observe, those hours ought to be well chosen, and the
sort of recreation ought to be attended to. It ought
to be such as is at once innocent in itself and in
its tendency, and not injurious to health. The sports
of the field are the best of all, because they are
conducive to health, because they are enjoyed by
day-light, and because they demand early rising.
The nearer that other amusements approach to these,
tliQ better they are. A town-life, which many per-
sons are compelled, by the nature of their calling, to
lead, precludes the possibility of pursuing amuse-
ments of this description to any very considerable
extent; and young men in towns are, generally
speaking, compelled to choose between books on the
one hand, ox gaming and the play-house on the other.
Dancbig is at once rational and healthful : it gives
animal spirits : it is the natural amusement of young
people, and such it has been from the days of Moses :
it is enjoyed in numerous companies : it makes the
parties to be pleased with themselves and with
all aboiU them : it has no tendency to excilobase and

%
1

..*. 't

ifi

COBBETT'fl ACVlca

[Letter

I p I

\n\:':\\'

malignant feelings ; and none but the most grovel-
ling and hateful tyranny, or the most stupid and
despicable fanaticism, ever raised its voice against it.
The bad modern habits of England have created one
inconvenience attending the enjoyment of this
healthy and innocent pastime ; namely, late fwurs,
which are at once injurious to health and destructive
of order and of industry. In other countries people
dance by day-light. Here they do not ; and, there-
fore, you must, in this respect, submit to the custom,
though not without robbing the dancing night of as
many hours as you can.

34. As to Gaming, it is always criminal^ either in
itself, or in its tendency. The basis of it is covetous-
ness ; a desire to take from others something, for
which you have given, and intend to give, no equiva-
lent. No gambler was ever yet a happy man, and
very few gamblers have escaped being miserable;
and, observe, to game for nothwg is still gaming, and
naturally leads to gaming for something. It is sa-
crificing time, and that, too, for the worst of pur-
poses. I have kept house for nearly forty years j I
have reared a family ; I have entertained as many
friends as most people; and I have never had
cards, dice, a chess-board, nor any implement
of gaming, under my roof. The hours that young
men spend in this way are hours viur'dered ;
precious hours, that ought to be spent either
in reading or in writing, or in rest, preparatory to
the duties of the dawn. Though I do not agree with
the base and nauseous flatterers, who now declare
the army to be the best school for statesmen, it is cer-
tainly a school in which to learn experimentally
many useful lessons ; and, in this school I learned,
that men, fond of gaming, are very rarely, if ever
trust-worthy. I have known many a clever man
rejected in the way of promotion only because he
was addicted to gaming. Men, in that state of life,
cannot ruin themselves by gaming, for they possess
no fortune, nor money ; but the taste for gaming is
always regarded as an indication of a radically bad

1 'I

TO A YOUTH.

r,for
Liiva-
and
able;
r, and
IS sa-
pur-
rsj 1
nany
had
ment
oung
Ted ;
either
►ry lo
with
3clare
scer-
itally
rned,
ever
man
[ise he
f life,
)ssess

ng is

ly bad

disposition ; and I can truly say, that I neVer in my
whole life knew a man, fond of gaming, who was not,
in some way or other, a person unworthy of confi-
dence. This vice creeps on by very slow degrees,
till, at last, it becomes an ungovernable passion,
swallowing up every good and kind feeling of the
heart. The gambler, as pourtrayed by Regnard, in
a comedy the translation of which into English re-
sembles the original much about as nearly as Sir
James Graham's plagiarisms resembled the Registers
on which they had been committed, is a fine instance
of the contempt and scorn to which gaming, at last,
reduces its votaries ; but, if any young man be en-
gaged in this fatal career, and be not yet wholly lost,
let him behold Hogarth's gambler just when he has
made his last throw, and when disappointment has
bereft him of his senses. If after this sight, he re-
main obdurate, he is doomed to be a disgrace to his
name.
35. The Theatre may be a source not only of
M amusement but also of instruction j but, as things
■* now are in this country, what, that is not bad, is to
be learned in this school ? In the first place not a
word is allowed to be uttered on the stage, which has
not been previously approved of by the Lord Cham-
berlain ; that is to say, by a person appointed by the
Ministry, who, at his pleasure allows, or disallows,
of any piece, or any words in a piece, submitted to his
inspection. In short, those who go to play-houses,
pay tJieir money to hear uttered such words as the
government approve of, and no others. It is now just
twenty-six years since I first well understood how
this matter was managed ; and, from that moment
to this, I have never been in an English play-house.
Besides this, the meanness, the abject servility, of
the players, and the slavish conduct of the audience,
are sufficient to corrupt and debase the heart of any
young man, who is a frequent beholder of them.
Homage is here paid to every one clothed with
power, be he who or what he may ; real virtue and
public-spirit are subjects of ridicule; and mock-eeu-

:,-i

cobbett's advice

[Letter

i-i !

I!'

i(hi

timeiit and mock-liberality and mock-loyalty are
applauded to the skies.

36. " Show me a man's companiona^^'' says the pro-
verb, " and I will tell you what tlie man is ;" and this is,
and must be true ; because all men seek the society of
those who think and act somewhat like themselves ;
sober men will not associate with drunkards, frugal
men will not like spendthrifts, and the orderly and
decent shun the noisy, the disorderly, and the de-
bauched. It is for the very vulgar to herd together
as singers, ringers and smokers ; but. there is a class
rather higher still more blameable ;/l^aiean,.UwiJ^-
VyiBra.-haunter&,-the gay companion!^ %ho herd io-
^^ether to do little but talk, and who ar^ so fond of
*Talk that they go from home to get at it. i The con-
f versation amongst such personslias nothing of in-
i^ struction in it, and is generally of a vicious tendency.
Young people naturally and commendably seek
the society of those of their own age ; but, be care-
ful in choosing your companions; and lay this
down as a rule never to be departed from, that no
youth, nor man, ought to be called your friend, who
is addicted to indecent talk, or who is fond of the
society of prostitutes. Either of these argues a de-
praved taste, and even a depraved heart ; an absence
of all principle and of all trust-worthiness ; and, I
have remarked it all my life long, that young men,
addicted to these vices, never succeed in the end,
whatever advantages they may have, whether in for-
tune or in talent. Fond mothers and fathers are but
too apt to be over-lenient to such offenders ; and, as
long as youth lasts and fortune smiles, the punish-
ment is deferred ; but, it comes at last ; it is sure to
come ; and the gay, and dissolute youth is a dejected
and rniserabld man. After the early part of a life spent
in illicit indulgences, a man is tmxcorthy of being the
husband of a virtuous woman ; and, if he have any
thing like justice in him, how is he to reprove, in \\\i
children, vices in which he himself so long indiiig< 1?
These vices of youth are varnished over by the say-
ing, that there must be time for '' sowing the mkl

liter

are

pro-
lis is,
ityof
Ives ;
rugal
J and
e de-
ether
. class

•d to-

jndof

3 con-

of in-

aency.
seek

e care-

ly this

lat no

c/,who
of the

!S a de-

^bsence
and, 1 ,
gmcn,
e end,
infor-

lare but

jand, as
►nnish-
Isure to
1 ejected
le spent
|ing the
ive any
in his

le say-
lie u'i/il

TO A VOUTH.

00X8^^"* and that " wildest colts make the best hm'teaP
These figurative oats are, however, generally like
the literal ones ; they are never to he eradicated fnym
the soil ; and as to the coltSy wildness in them is an
indication of hi^h animal spirit, having nothing at
all to do with the mind, which is invariably debilita-
ted and debased by profligate indulgences. Yet this
miserable piece of sophistry, the offspring of paren-
tal weakness, is in constant use, to the incalculable
injury of the rising generation. What so amiable
as a steady, trust-worthy boy ? He is of real use
at an early age : he can be trusted far out of the
sight of parent or employer, while the " picfcfe," as
the poor fond parents call the profligate, is a great
deal worse than useless, because there must be some
one to see that he does no harm. If you have to
choose, choose companions of your own rank in life
as nearly as may be ; but, at any rate, none to whom
you acknowledge iiiferiority ; for, slavery is too soon
learned;? and. if the mind be .l2ft3iv:£4jjQ.WiL,ia*il^
youth, it 'will seldoift xisfi up iaj^hie ^^m^^ In the
schools of those best of teachers, the Jesuits, there
is perfect equality as to rank in life ; the boy, who
enters there, leaves all family pride behind him:
intrinsic merit alone is the standard of preference ;
and the masters are so scrupulous upon this head,
that they do not suffer one scholar, of whatever
rank, to have more money Jo spend than the poorest.
These wise men know well the mischiefs that must
arise from inequality of pecuniary means amongst
J their scholars : they know how injurious it would
be to learning, if deference were, by the learned,
paid to the dunce; and they, therefore, take the
[most effectual means to prevent it. Hence, amongst
lother causes, it is, that their scholars have, ever
[since the existence of their Order, been the most
[celebrated for learning of any men in the world.

37. In your manners be neither boorish nor blunt,
nit, even these are preferable to simpering and
jrawling. I wish eveiy English youth could see
those of the United States of America ; always civil,

^^^1

oobbett's advice

[Letter

ii'n

;';i

:'. ':i

: '4

|!i|l||i|

never servile. De obedient^ where obedience is due ;
for, it is no act of meanness, and no indication of
want of spirit, to yield implicit and ready obedience
to those who have a right to demand it at your
hands. In this respect England has been, and, I
hope, always will be, an example to the whole
world. To this habit of willing and prompt obedi-
ence in apprentices, in servants; in all inferiors in
station, she owes, in a great measure, her multitudes
of matchless merchants, tradesmen, and woricmen
of every description, and also the achievements of
her armies and ravies. It is no disgrace, but the
contrary, to obey, cheerfully, lawful and just com-
mands. None are so saucy and disobedient as
slaves ; and, when you come to read history, you
will find that in proportion as nations have been
free has been their reverence for the laws. But,
there is a wide difference between lawful and cheer-
ful obedience and that servility which represents
people as laying petitions " at the king'^sfeet,^^ which
makes us imagine that we behold the supplicants
actually crawling upon their bellies. There is some-
thing so abject in this expression ; there is such hor-
rible self-abasement in it, that I do hope that every
youth, who shall read this, will hold in detestation
the reptiles who make use of it. In all other coun-
tries, the lowest individual can put a petition into the ^^
hands of the chief magistrate, be he king or empe-
ror : let us hope, that the time will yet come when
Englishmen will be able to do the same. In the
meanwhile I beg you to despise these worse than
pagan parasites.

38. Hitherto I have addressed you chiefly relative ^
to the things to be avoided : let me now turn to tlie I
things which you ought to do. And, first of all, the ,
hushanding ojtjour time. The respect that you will
receive, the real and sincere respect^ will depend en-
tirely on what you are able to do. If you be rich,
you may purchase what is called respect ; but, it is
not worth having. To obtain respect worth possess
ing you must, as I observed before, do more thnii '|

I.J

TO A TOUTIL

the common run of men in your state of life : and,
to be enabled to do this, you must manage well ycnir
time: and, to manage it well, you must have as
much of the day-light and as little of the candle'
light as is consistent with the due discharge of your
duties. When people get into the habit of sitting
up merely for the purpose of talking^ it is no easy
matter to break themselves of it ; and if they do not
go to bed early, they cannot rise early. Young
people require more sleep than those that are grown
up : there must be the number of hours, and that
number cannot well be, on an average, less than
eight : and, if it be more in winter time, it is all the
better ; for, an hour in bed is better than an hour
spent over fire and candle in an idle gossip. People
never should sit talking till they do not know what
to talk about. It is said by the country-people, that
one hour's sleep before midnight is worth more than
two areworth after midnight, and this I believe to be
I a fact ; but, it is useless to go to bed early and even to
rise early, if the time be not well employed after
rising. In general, half the morning is loitered away,
the party being in a sort of half-dressed half-naked
[state ; out of bed, indeed, but still in a sort of bed-
[ding. Those who first invented morning->gowns 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

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

TO A VOUTH.

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

COBBETT^S ADVICE

[Letter

'.f

nil

il pi

iiMir.i

ill

■ II:! 1

l! liH

III i

iiiiii

■ I ',i;i !!.

i-li

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

TO A YOUTH.

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

■:i (

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,

f i

TO A YOUTH,

'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

II '■

oobbbtt's advice^

[Letter'

!^:;:iii

111!

' hiJ!!';;

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

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

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!

(''!

r 4

. ■■*

■u)

,4 I.- v.. I

■ %

cobdett's advice

; ratter

ii I

III ii

■';vl

iilii)

'■lip '

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

mi"'

OOBBETTS ADVICE

rl'v . I

liii

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

TO A TOUTH.

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

i I

'I u

COBBETT*S ADVICE

I Letter

i: '!" i

■ ,1 ' ''Mi

' 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,

TO A YOUTH.

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*??*

■0

A,-ij|V*'

■■•>■

■*

'^i

Wi^.'

['i-

lip:

'i- n

iiiiii

Hi m

I ■ ;i

11
llllil

il!>

;|iil'i||

wwimwi

|l <
III 'i

i ii

•■4b

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<sf few
id mise-
\c facts.
t where
ir, have
at tliey
orfulk
This
Ijer Wdi"
we noir
souls
Now,
Irch aiitl

2,mi

than 3

statute
, on .111

TO A YOUNG MAN.

and kept up without being wanted, and especially by
a poor and miserable people ? Did these miserable
people build 74 churches out of 731, each of which
74 had not a hundred souls belonging to it ? Is it a
sign of an augmented population, that 22 churches
out of 731 have tumbled down and been effaced ?
Was it a country thinly inhabited by miserable peo-
ple that could build and keep a church in every
piece of ground a mile and a half each way, besides
having, in this same county, 77 monastic establish-
ments and 142 free chapels 1 Is it a sign of aug-
mented population, ease and plenty, that, out of 731
parishes, 268 have suffered the parsonage-houses to
fall into ruins, and their sites to become patches of
nettles and of brambles ? Put these questions calmly
to yourself: common sense will dictate the answers;
and truth will call for an expression of your indig-
nation against the lying historians and the still more
lying population mongers.

»e

niiif"

1*0, evTii

a ho'ljl

li to put

lly built

LETTER II.

TO A YOUNG MAN.

.53. In the foregoing letter I have given my ad-
vice to a Youth. In addressing myself to you, I am
to presume that you have entered upon your present
stage of life, having acted upon the precepts con-
tained in that letter ; and that, of course, you are a
sober, abstinent, industrious and well-informed
young man. In the succeeding letters, which will
be addressed to the Lover, the Husba^id, the FatJier,
and the Citizen, I shall, of course, have to include
my notion of your duties as a master, and as a person
employed by another. In the present letter, there-
fore, I shall confine myself principally to the con-

■^' f

I. i

(„ ^*'

t 5 .1

y \\

COBBETT S ADVICE

LLciier

|i Jill: ' "'

I!i liii'

lil

il-ii

rl!'

l.'i,.-; , .

■ iii;'''

tcUlli

!i'

duct of a young man with regard to the manage-
ment of his means, or money.

54. Be you in what line of life you may, it will
be amongst your misfortunes if you have not time
properly to attend to this matter ; for it very
frequently happens, it has happened to thousands
upon thousands, not only to be ruined, according to
the common acceptation of the word ; not only to
be made poor, and to suffer from poverty, in conse-
quence of want of attention to pecuniary matters ;
but it has frequently, and even generally happened,
that a want of attention to these matters has impe-
ded the progress of science, and of genius itself. A
man, oppressed with pecuniary cares and dangers,
must be next to a miracle, if he have his mind in a
state fit for intellectual labours ; to say nothing of
the temptations, arising from such distress, to aban-
don good principles, to suppress useful opinions and
useful facts ; and, in short, to become a disgrace to his
kindred, and an evil to his country, instead of being
an honour to the former and a blessing to the latter.
To be poor and independent is very nearly an im-
possibility.

55. But, then, poverty is not a positive, but a re-
lative term. Burke observed, and very truly, that
a labourer who earned a sufficiency to maintain him
as a labourer, and to maintain him in a suitable man-
ner ; to give him a sufficiency of good food, of
clothing, of lodging, and of fuel, ought not to be called
a poor man : for that, though he had little riches,
though his, compared with that of a lord, was a
state of poverty, it was not a state of poverty in
itself. When, therefore, I say that poverty is the
cause of a depression of spirit, of inactivity and of
servility in men of literary talent, I must say, at
the same time, that the evil arises from their own
fault; from their having created for themselves
imaginary wants ; from their having indulged in
unnecessary enjoyments, and from their having
caused that to be poverty, which would not havo
been poverty, if they had been moderate in their
enjoyments.

56. A

to live I
proceed
other st;
idea of ;
talent, ci
himself
he kno\^
must det
Mr. WiL
maker ai
to schoo
of a gem

COOKSON

whipper
was a mj
nal knov^
soul, the
mongerir
system
wants ;
rich and
had beer
when, in
choose b
and a loc
side, and
man, on
became tl
newspape
than all t
the miser
every thi
deplored
dishes, the
sinecure i
him 329/ j
lottery ga
period, hir
him perha
riageforsf

ill

TO A YOUNG MAN.

lage-

Lwill
time
very
sands
ng to
ilyto '
ORse-
Iters ;
lened,
impe-
If. A
rtgers,
d ilia
ingof
aban-
is and
1 to his
' being
latter,
in im-

t a re-
that
n him
man-
od, of
called
riches,
was a
rty in
is the
and of
say, at
ir own
iselves
ged in
having
it hava
their

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:

pjijil

^ll

i t ■ I i

I* p

ilWiiii

lllli

ll'ili

P'll! H

I III

II I

! I

iiiih!

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

Letter

ri]

TO A YOUNG MAN.

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 A

t ■■'.■*

1 '.'I

rMiti

Ill" r >i

'ill

V' . :'l'
',l|k

ill

1' ^ '

'!'i! I II

^iui^l

.i!ii: ;^ ■ !

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.

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

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

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.

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

cobbett's advice

fLetter

ill

il';:ii !i

ll-H

.1-, ■, ii

-I'i'i P III

t'ii : !

Ih! ; ■'

li'M

■Hi

r ' '
Ii I. ,

1; <

Mk'

Biliil'lilllli;!

ifi 'I'll ,

M 111!':

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.

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

■';i

• w II

'ill;-.

i'l'^ILiij,

Ijii ill

' ^1

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.

■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

I Jl:

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.

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

■ '

■: %

' :«

cobbett's advice

§'[ li."

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.

! <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

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 <j)r one minister hassucceeded another,is very
little more profitable than the reading of a romance.
To understand well the history of the country, you
should first understand how it came to be divided
into counties, hundreds, and into parishes; how
judges, sheriffs, and juries first arose; to what end
they were all invented, and how the changes with re-
spjpct to any of them have been produced. But, it
is of particular consequence, that you ascertain the
state of the people in former times, which is to be as-
certained by comparing the then price of labour "mth
the then price of food. You hear enough, and ycfa
read enough, aoout ilie glorioits wars in the reign of
King Edward the third ; and it is very proper that
those glories should be recorded and remembered ;
but you never read, in the works of the historians,
that, in that reign, a common labourer earned three-
pence-halfpenny a day ; and that hfat sheep was sold,
at the same time, for one shilling and twopence, and
a fat hog, two years old, for three shillings and four-

fii^

-J

'I '!

f li'

Biifi!

J r'

■11

III,

■inh'li

(i!!;l!

■fjlliir:'^'

fci.lH I

COBBETT^a ADVICE

pence, and a fat goose for twopence-halfpenny. You
never read, that women received a penny a day for
hay-making or weeding in the corn, and that a gal-
lon of red wine was sold for fourpence. These are
matters which historians have deemed to be beneath
their notice; but, they are matters of real importance:
they are matters which ought to have practical ef-
fect at this time; for these furnish the criterion
whereby we are to judge of our condition compared
with that of our forefathers. The poor-rates form
a great feature in the laws and customs of this coun-
try. Put to a thousand persons who have read what
is ^called the history of England ; put to them the
question, how the poor-rates came ? and nine hun-
dred and ninety-nine of the thousand will tell yon,
that they know nothing at all of the matter. This
is not history ; a list of battles and a string of in-
trigues are not history, they communicate no know-
ledge applicable to our present state ; and it really is
better to amuse oneself with an avowed romance,
which latter is a great deal worse than passing one's
time in counting the trees.

75. History has been described as affording argu-
ments of experience ; as a record of what has been,
in order to guide us as to what is likely to be, or what
ought to be ; but, from this romancing history, no
such experience is to be derived : for it furnishes no
facts on which to found arguments relative to the
existing or future state of things. To come at the true
history of a country you must read its laws : you
must read books treating of its usages and customs,
in former times ; and you must particularly inform
yourself as to prices of labour and of food. By read-
ing the single Act of the 23rd year of Edward
the Tumn, specifying the price of labour at that time;
by reading an act of Parliament passed in the 24tli
year of Henry the 8th ; by reading these two Acts, j
and then reading the Precigsitm of Bishop Fleet-
wood, which shows the price of food in the former
reign, you come into full possession of the know-
ledge of what England was in former times. Divers

1-;;

n.j

TO A YOUNG MAN.

books teach how the divisions of the country arose,
and how its great institutions were established ; and,
the result of this reading is in store of knowledge,
which will afford you pleasure for the whole of your
life.

76. History, however, is by no means the only
thing about which every man's leisure furnishes him
with the means of reading; besides which, every
man has not the same taste. Poetry, Geography,
Moral Essays, the divers subjects of Philosophy,
Travels, Natural History, books on Sciences ; and,
in short, the whole range of book-knowledge is be-
fore you : but, there is one tiling always to be guard-
ed against ; and that is, not to admire and applaud
any thing you read, merely because it is the fashion
to admire and applaud it. Read, consider well what
you read, form your own judgment^ and stand by
that judgment in despite of the sayings of what are
called learned men, until fact or argument be offered
to convince you of your error. One writer praises
another ; and it is very possible for writers so to
combine as to cry down, and, in some sort, to destroy
the reputation of any one who meddles with the
combination, unless the person thus assailed be
blessed with uncommon talent and uncommon per-
severance. When I read the works of Pope and of
Swift, I was greatly delighted with their lashing of
Dennis ; but wondered, at the same time, why they
slrould have taken so much pains in running down
such a fool. By the merest accident in the world,
being at a tavern in the woods of America, I took up
an old book, in order to pass away the time while
my travelling companions were drinking in the next
room; but, seeing the book contained the criticisms
of Dennis, I was about to lay it down, when the
play of "Cato" caught my eye ; and, having been
accustomed to read books in which this play was
lauded to the skies, and knowing it to have been
written by Addison, every line of whose works I
had been taught to believe teemed with wisdom and
genius, I coiideflcendod to begin to ixjad, though the

■■I:

V' A.

■A

i; ,

< 1 »

• ■ -' *, ■
1 ,'

1 J =!

! i
. 1

1;'; i • „■• ni
i 1

i|i||i:.

I 11

ilili

cobbett's advice

iifiii

' ;l 111,

ii!:r-'

1: ilili i I

ii'iFi 'II

it t!

!.;!i:,

iit.

ll H;

work was from the pen of that fool Dennis. I read
on, and soon began to laugh^ not at Dennis but at
Addison. I laughed so much and so loud, that the
landlord, who was in the passage, came in to see
■what I was laughing at. In short, I found it a most
masterly production, one of the most witty things
that I had ever read in my life. I was delighted
with Dennis, and was heartily ashamed of my form-
er admiration of Cato, and felt no little resentment I
against Pope and Swift for their endless reviling of
this most able and witty critic. This, as far as I
recollect, was the first emancipation that had assisted
me in my reading. I have, since that time, never
taken any thing upon trust: I have judged for my.
self, trusting neither to the opinions of writers nor
in the fashions of the day. Having been told by
Dr. Blair, in his lectures on Rhetoric, that, if I
meant to write correctly, I must " give my days and
nights to Addison," I read a few numbers of the
Spectator at the time I was writing my English
Grammar: I gave neither my nights nor my days to
him ; but I found an abundance of matter to afford ■
examples of /a/sfi^am7war; and, upon a re-peni-
sal, I found that the criticisms of Dennis might have
been extended to this book too.

T7. But that which never ought to have been for-
gotten by those who were men at the time, and that
which ought to be made known to every young man
of the present day, in order that he may be induced
to exercise his own judgment with regard to books, |
is, the transactions relative to the writings of Shak-
speare, which transactions took place about thirty ■
years ago. It is still, and it was then much more, I
the practice to extol every line ♦ f Shakspeare to the
skies : not to admire Shakspea ie has been deemed
to be a proof of want of understanding and taste.
Mr. Garrick, and some others after him, had their
own good and profitable reasons for crying up the
works of this poet. When I was a very little boy,
there was a julrilee in honour of Shakspeare, and as
he was said to have planted a Mnlberry-treej boxes,

TO A YOUNG MAN.

and other little ornamental things In wood, were
sold all over the country, as having been made out
of the trunk or limbs of this ancient and sacred tree.
We Protestants laugh at the relics so highly prized
by Catholics ; but never was a Catholic people half
so much duped by the relics of saints, as this nation
was by the mulberry tree, of which, probably, more
wood was sold than would have been sufficient in
quantity to build a ship ol war, or a large house.
This madness abated for some years ; but, towards
the end of the last century^t broke out again with
more fury than ever. Shakspeare's works were
published by Boydeli., an Alderman of London, at a
subscription oijive hundreds 'pounds for each copt/^
accompanied by plates, each forming a large picture.
Amongst the mad men of the day was a Mr. Ire-
land, who seemed to be more mad than any of the
rest. His adoration of the poet led him to perform
a pilgrimage to an old farm-house, near Stratford-
upon-Avon, said to have been the birth-place of the
poet. Arrived at the spot, he requested the farmer
and his wife to let him search the house for papers,
first going upon Ms knees, and praying, in the poetic
style, the gods to aid him in his quest. He found no
papers; but he found that the farmer's wife, in clear-
ing out a garret some years before, had found some
I rubbishy old papers which she had burnt, and which
had probably been papers used hi the wrapping up
of])igs' cheeks to keep them from the bats. "O,
wretched woman I" exclaimed he; "do you know
what you have done ?" " O dear, no!" said the wo-
man, half frightened out of her wits : "no harm, I
Ihope ; for the papers were very old ; I dare say as
[old as the house itself." This threw him into an
[additional degree of excitement, as it is now fashion-
[ably called : he raved, he stamped, he foamed, and
[at last quitted the house, covering the poor woman
[with every term of reproach ; and hastening back
to Stratford, took post-chaise for London, to relate
[to his brother madmen the horrible sacrilege of this
leathenish woman. Unfortunately for Mr. Ireland,

I- J

I'.

.'-«:.

■<>,

m ■!

illli.i

mm'' ' >

111

m ' -li

,''■1 ''I !■!

I ''li I

I'i li

«>

II :

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

w.j

TO A YOUNG MAN.

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

'^: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

TO A LOVER.

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.

I)'

t, ■

•Ji

J.
*

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

Mil "t

ill"'

'[III' !

i':

i;,i.

i" ('i

\m4

mv.

l:i

lii;!'il

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-

»ill!ilJL ! ji i !

III.]

TD A LOVER.

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

tjii ' ' '« 1

COBBETt*S ADVICE

[Letter

m ^

■<• i

.'li 1

;("■ '"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

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«

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

: ^1

-•■S I

:|i

•li-

i ' HI

'■

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-

III. 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

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

I 1

I ■'!

it ,';

i 1;

?■„

oobbett's advice

[Letter

I 'I

fll

¥-

l-v:::.i , '■ 'I.

|: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

m.]

husban
which
my oba
lies are
" vioder
in the n

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.

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;;

iiri

■

9Pi'.

■'f

" !

' I

$v\ !■

ilH;!-^.-^

■■>'*

4 '^^'

t-ij

' i

* ?. :

^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

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

III.]

TO A LOVER.

'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 ■

5ti(|

f i-M

' t

I. 1^1 ^A
•i w ■ ''l

iifiif'i':

h- -..i

SI', iil:'

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</ree ; if either oftlu^se, she Uiiver will
be trusl worthy : she cannot change her natun

"I!

III.]

IS, m

III.]

TO A LOVER.

and, if you marry her, you will be unjust if
you expect trust-worthiness at her hands. But,
besides this, even if you find in her that innate
" sobrieiy,^^ of which I have been speaking, there
requires, on your part, and that at once too, con-
fidence and trust without any limit. Confidence
is, in this case, nothing unless it be reciprocal.
To have a trust-worthy wife, you must begin
by showing her, even before yoa are married, that
you have no suspicions, no fears, no doubts, with
regard to her. Many a man has been discarded by
a virtuous girl, merely on account of his querulous
conduct. AH women despise jealous men ; and, if
they marry such, their motive is other than that
of affection. Therefore, beg'in by proofs of unlimited
confidence ; and, as example may serve to assist
precept, and as I never have preached that which I
have not practised, I will gi /e you the history of
my own conduct in this respect.

94. When I first saw my wife, she was thirteen
years o^and I was within about a month oi twenty-one.
She was the daughter of a Serjeant of artillery, and
I was the Serjeant-Major of a regiment of foot, both
stationed in forts near the city of St. John in the
Province of New-Brunswick. I sat in the room
with her, for about an hour, in company with
others, and I made up my mind that she was the very
jrirl^ for me. That I thought her beautiful is certain,
tor "that I had always said should be an indispensa-
ble qualification ; but I saw in her what I deemed
marks of that sobriety oi conduct of which I have said
so much, and which has been by far the greatest
blessing of my life. It was now dead of winter, and, of
course, the snow several feet deep on the ground,
and the weatlier piercing cold. It was my habit,
when I had done my morning's writing, to go out
at break of day to take a walk on a hill at the foot of
which our barracks lay. In about three mornings
after I had first seen her, I had, by an invitation to
breakfast with me, got up two young men to joiy
)ne in my walk j and our road lay bv the house ot

' t*

m ^

-J

<
I

^w^

t J

vS.

'illii

'list ail I

I '!ii

COBBETTS ADVICE

LLetter

her father and mother. It was hardly hght, but she
was out on the snow, scrubbing out a washing-tub.
" That's the girl for me," said I, when we had got
out of her hearing. One of these young men came
to England soon afterwards ; and he, who keeps an
inn in Yorkshire, came over to Preston, at the time
of the election, to verify whether I were the same
man. When he found that I was, he appeared sur-
prised ; but what was his surprise, when I told him,
that those tall young men, whom he saw around
me, were the sans of that pretty little girl that he
and I saw scrubbing out the washing-tub on the snow
in New-Brunswick in the morning.

95. From the day that I first spoke to her, I never
had a thought of her ever being the wife of any other
man, more than I had a thought of her being trans-
• )rmed into a chest of drawers ; and I formed my
resolution at once, to marry her as soon as we could
get permission, and to get out of the army as soon
:«^ I could. So that this matter was, at once, settled
as firmly as if written in the book of fate. At the
end of about six months, my regiment, and I along
with it, were removed to Frederickton, a distance
of a hundred miles, up the river of St. John ; and,
which was worse, the artillery were expected to go
off to England a year or two before our regiment !
The artillery went, and she along with them ; and
now it was that I acted a part becoming a real and
sensible lover. I was aware, that, when she got to
that gay place, Woolwich, the house of her father
and mother, necessarily visited by numerous persons
not the most select, might become unpleasant to her,
and I did not like, besides, that she should continue
to work hard. I had saved a hundred and fifty gui-
neas, the earnings of my i arly hours, in writing for
the paymaster, the qi-artermaster, ?iid others, in ad-
dition to the savings of my own pay. I sent her all
my money, before she sailed ; and wrote to her to beg
of her, if she found her home uncomfortable, to hire
a lodging with respectable people : and, at any rate,
not to spare the money, by any means j but to buy

•! r (1

in.]-

TO A LOVER

herself good clothes, and to live without hard work,
until I arrived in England ; and I, in order to induce
her to lay out the money, told her that I should get
plenty more before I came home.

96. As the malignity of the devil would have it,
we were kept abroad two years longer than our time,
Mr. Pitt (England not being so tame then as she is
now) having knocked up a dust with Spain about
Nootka Sound. Oh, how I cursed Nootka Sound,
and poor bawling Pitt too, I am afraid ! At the end
of four years^ however, home I came ; landed at
Portsmouth, and got my discharge from the army
by the great kindness of poor Lord Edward Fitz-
gerald, who was then the Major of my regiment.
I found my little girl a servant ofaU work, (and hard
work it was,) at Jive powids a year, in the house of
a Captain Brisac ; and, without hardly saying a
word about the matter, she put into my hands the
whole of my hundred and fifty guineas unbroken !

97. Need I tell the reader what my feelings were?
Need I tell kind-hearted English parents what effect
this anecdote must have produced on the minds of
our children ? Need I attempt to describe what ef-
fect this example ought to have on every young
woman who shall do me the honour to read this
book ? Admiration of her conduct, and self-gratu-
lation on this indubitable proof of the soundness of
my own judgment were now added to my love of
her-beautiful person.

98. Now, I do not say that there are not many
young women of this country who would, under
similar circumstances, have acted as my wife did in
this case ; on the contrary, I hope, and do sincerely
believe, that there are. But when her o^e is con-
sidered ; when we reflect, that she was living in a
place crowded, literally a'owded, with gayly-dressed
and handsome young men, many of whom really
far richer and in higher rank than I wae, and scores
of them ready to offer her their hand ; when we re-
flect that she was living amongst young women who
put upon their backs every shilling that they could

■1 1

' !«»»,•.

'-' I ! ,

11 • )

cobbett's advice

[Letter

come at ; when we see her keeping the bag of gold
untouched, and working hard to provide herself with
but mere necessary apparel, and doing this while
she was passing from Jourteen to eighteen years of
age; when we view the whole of the circumstances,
we must say that here is an example, which, while
it reflects honour on her sex, ought to have weight
with every young woman whose eyes or ears this
relation shall reach.

99. If any young man imagine, that this great
sobriety of conduct in young women must be accom-
panied with seriousness approaching to glootn, he is,
according to my experience and observation, very
much deceived. The contrary is the fact ; for I have
found that as, amongst men, your jovial companions
are, except over the bottle, the dullest and most in-
sipid of souls ; so, amongst women, the gay, the
rattling and laughing are, unless some party of plea-
sure, or something out of domestic life, is going on,
generally in the dumps and blue-devils. Some sti-
mulus is always craved after by this description of
women ; some sight to be seen, something to see or
to hear other than what is to be found at home,
which, as it affords no incitement, nothing "ifo 7'aise
and keep up the spirits,^^ is looked upon merely as a
place to be at for want of a better ; merely a place
for eating and drinking, and the like ; merely a hid-
ing place, whence to sally in search of enjoyments.
A greater curse than a wife of this description, it
would be somewhat difficult to find ; and, in your
character of Lover, you are to provide against it.
I hate a dull, melancholy, moping thing : I could not
have existed in the same house with such a thing
for a single month. The mopers are, too, all giggle
at other times : the gaiety is for others, and the mo-
ping for the husband, to comfort him, happy man,
when he is alone: plenty of smiles and of badinage
for others, and for him to participate with others ;
but the moping is reserved exclusively for him. One
hour she is capering about, asi if rehearsing a jig;
and, the next, sighing to the motion of a lazy needle,

in.l

or w«

ment

tohei

house

encon

food (

an aff<

of hal

Let ai

deligh

pie foi

pride t

deduct

observ

like a ]

paring

both at

should

serve, i

real mi

unequi

and, ha

and we

is chooi

ought t

on a Si

arms, Ic

tween t

the 3oo

ing obj(

to be be

In Fran

dunghei

the Sam

In ridin

to Hors

to a sol

3^rds d

with th

another

before Ih

Wail.,:,:;!

'?€'

■,#■

III.1

TO A LOVER.

m, it

or weeping over a novel : and this is called senti-
Tnent ! Music, indeed ! Give me a mother singing
to her clean and fat and rosy baby, and making the
house ring with her extravagant and hyperbolical
encomiums on it. That is the music which is " the
food of lone;'*'* and not the formal, pedantic noises,
an affectation of skill in which is now-a-days the ruin
of half the young couples in the middle rank of life.
liCt any man observe, as I so frequently have, with
delight, the excessive fondness of the labouring peo-
ple for their children. Let him observe with what
pride they dress them out on a Sunday, with means
deducted from their own scanty meals. Let him
observe the husband, who has toiled all the week
like a horse, nursing the baby, while the wife is pre-
paring the bit of dinner. Let him observe them
both abstaining from a sufficiency, lest the children
should feel the pinchings of hunger. Let him ob-
serve, in short, the whole of their demeanour, the
real mutual affection, evinced, not in words, but in
unequivocal deeds. Let him observe these things,
and, having then cast a look at the lives of the great
and wealthy, he will say, with me, that, when a man
is choosing his partner for life, the dread of poverty
ought to be cast to the winds. A labourer's cottage,
on a Sunday ; the husband or wife having a baby in
arms, looking at two or three older ones playing be-
tween the flower-borders going from the wicket to
the cloor, is, according to my taste, the most interest-
ing object that eyes ever beheld ; and, it is an object
to be beheld in no country upon earth but England.
In France, a labourer's cottage means a sJied with a
dwnghea'p before the door j and it means much about
the same in America, where it is wholly inexcusable.
In riding once, about five years ago, from Petworth
to Horsham, on a Sunday in the afternoon, I came
to a solitary cottage which stood at about twenty
yards distance from the road. There was the wife
with the baby in her arms, the husband teaching
another child to walk, while /bwr more were at play
before them. J stopped and looked at them for gome

m\'

- I

): j

! ! ! i

i/ It

cobbett's advice

[Letter

•' . Si

L. h.

-! ^ i

!ll.:ii

time, and ilicn, turning my horse, rode up to the
wicket, getting into taiic by asking the distance to
Horsliam. I found that the man worked cliieiiy in
the woods, and that he was doing pretty well. The
wife was then only twcnty-iwo\ and the man only
twenty-floe. She was a pretty woman, even for
Sussex^ which, not excepting Lancashire, coniaiiis
the prettiest women in England. He was a very iine
and stout young man. " Why," said i, " how many
children do you reckon to have at last .^" "I do not
care how many," said the man : " God never sends
mouths without sending meat." " Did you ever
hear," said J, " of one Parson Malthds ?" " No,
sir." " Why, if he were to hear of your works, he
would be outrageous ; for he wants an act of parlia-
ment 10 prevent poor people from marrying young,
and from having such lOts of children." " Oti ! the
brute!" exclaimed the wife; while the husband
laughed, thinking that I was joking. I asked the
man whether he had ever had relief from the 'pa-
rish ; and upon his answering in the negative, I
took out my purse, took from it enough to bait my
horse at Horsham, and to clear my turnpikes to
Worth, whither T was going in order to stay awhile,
and gave him all the rest. Now, i'^ it not a shame,
is it not u sin of all sins, that people like these should,
by acts of the government, be reduced to such mise-
ry as to be induced to abandon their homes and their
country, to seek, in a foreign land, the means of
preventing themselves and their children from star-
ving 7 And this has been, and now is, actually the
case with many such families in this same county of
Sussex !

100. An ardent-minded young man (who, by-the-
by, will, as I am afraid, have been wearied by this
rambliuff digression) may fear, that this great so-
briety of conduct in a young woman, for which I have
been so strenuously contending, argues a want of
that warmthj which he naturally so much desires ;
and, if my observation and experience warranted the
entertaining of this fear, I should say, had I to live

inj

TO A LOVER.

tlic

the-
this
at so-
have
mt of
sires ;

my life over again, give me the warmthy and I will
stand my chance as to the rest. But, this observa-
tion and this experience tell me the contrary ; they
tf 11 me that levitf/ is, ninety-nine times out of a hun-
dred, the companion of a want of ardent feeling.
Prostitutes never hve, and, for the far greater part,
never did. Their passion, which is more mei^e ani-
mal than any thing else, is easily gratified ; they,
like rakes, change not only without pain, but with
pleasure ; that is to say, pleasure as great as they can
enjoy. Women of light minds have seldom any ar-
dent passion; love is a mere name, unless confined
to one object ; and young women, in whom vity of
conduct is observable, will not be thus resi 1. I
do not, however, recommend a young mai '<)0

severe in judging, where the conduct does lUn go ue-
yond tnere lemty, and is not bordering on loose con-
duct ; for something depends here upon constitution
and animal spirits, and something also upon the man-
ners of the country. That levity, which, in a French
girl, I should not have thought a great deal of, would
have frightened me away from an English or an
American girl. When I was in France, just after I was
married, there happened to be amongst our acquaint-
ance a gay, sprightly girl, of about seventeen. I was
remonstrating with her, one day, on the facility with
which she seemed to shift her smiles from object to
object; and she, stretching one arm out in an upward
diredtion, the other in a dov/nward direction, raising
herself upon one foot, leaning her body on one side,
and thus throwing herself into Si flying attitude, an-
swered my grave lecture by singing, in a very sweet
voice (significantly bowing her head and smiling at
the same time,) the following lines from the vaude-
vilky in the play of* Figaro :

Bi I'amour a des ailes^
N'ost ce pas pour voltiger i

That is, if love has wings^ is it not Xojiulter about
with ? The wit, argument, and manner, all together,
silenced me. She, after I left France, married a very
worthy man, has had a large^ family, and has beei^,

\'\i

...)

i.''

^ \ !

M'i,H

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

1.0 !siaKi

^^= m IM 12.2

1.1 l.-^KS
— M

|||l.25|..4|..6

« 6"

23 WIST MAIN STMIT

WIISTII,N.Y. 14SM

(71*) •72-4503

COBBETT'S ADVfCB

[Letter

h¥ '

.' I « I

m ( I

and is, a most excellent wife and mother. But that
which does sometimes well in France, does not do
here at all. Our manners are more grave : steadi-
ness is the rule, and levity the exception. Love may
xoltige in France ; but, in England, it cannot, with
safoty to the lover : and it is a truth which, I believe,
no man of attentive observation will deny, that, as, in
general, English wives are mwfi warm in their con-
jugal attachments than those of France, so, with re-
gard to individuals, that those English women who
are the most li^ht in their manners, and who are the
least cmsiant m their attachments, have the smallest
portion of that warmth^ that indescribable passion
which God has given to human beings as the great
counterbalance to all the sorrows and sufferings of
life.

101. Industry. By industry^ I do not mean merely
ktbouriousness, merely labour or activity of body,
for purposes of gain or of saving ; for there may be
industry amongst those who have more money than
they know well what to do with : and there may be
lazy ladies, as well as lazy farmers' and tradesmen's
wives. There is no state of life in which industry
in the wife is not necessary to the happiness and
prosperity of the family, at the head of the house-
hold affairs of which sne is placed. If she be lazy,
there will be lazy servants, and, which is a great deal
worse, children habitually lazy : every thing, how-
ever necessary to be done, will be put off to the last
moment: then it will be done badly, and, in many
cases, not at all: the dinner will be too late; the
journey or the visit will be tardy ; inconveniences of
all sorts will be continually arising : there will al-
ways be a heavy arrear of things unperformed ;
and this, even amongst the most wealthy of all, is a
great curse; for, if they have no business imposed
upon them by necessity, they make business for
themselves; life would be unbearable without it:
and therefore a lazy woman must always be a curse,
be her rank or station what it may.
^ 102. But, tr/to is to tall whether a girl will make

; "*•

jctter

m.i

TO A LOtTEIl.

t that
lOt do
(teadi-
emay
;, with
elieve,
, as, in
ir con-
ath re-
;n who
are the
mallest
passion
e great
ings of

merely
if body,
may be
ley than
I may be
esmen's
ndustry
ess and
1 house-
be lazy,
eat deal
g, how-
thelast
many
te; the
ences of
will al-
lormed ;

all, is a

imposed

is8 for

out it:

a curse,

111 make

an industrious woman 9 How is the pur-bllnd lover
especially, to be able to ascertain whether she, whose
smiles and dimples and bewitching lips have half
bereft him of his senses ; how is he to be able to
judge, from any thing that he can see, whether the
beloved obj ect will be industriou s or lazy ? Why, it is
very difficult; it is a matter that reason has very little to
do with; but there are, nevertheless, certain outward
and visible signs, from which a man, not wholly de-
prived of the use of his reason, may form a pretty ac-
curate j ud graent as to this matter. It was a story in Phi-
ladelphia, some years ago, that a young man, who
was courting one of three sisters, happened to be on
a visit to her, when all the three were present, and
when one said to the others, " I wonder where our
needle is." Upon which he withdrew, as soon as was
consistent with the rules of politeness, resolved never
to think more of a girl who possessed a needle only
in partnership, and who, it appeared, was not top
well informed as to the place where even that share
was deposited.

103. This was, to be sure,'a very flagrant instance
of a want of industry ; for, if the third part of the
use of a needle satisfied her when single, it was rea-
sonable to anticipate that marriage would banish that
useful implement altogether. But such instances are
seldom suffered to come in contact with the eyes and
ears^of the lover, to disguise all defects from whom
is the great business, not only of the girl herself, but
of her whole family. There arf;, however, certain
outward signs, which, if attended to with care, will
serve as pretty sure guides. And, first, if you find
the tovgue lazy, you may be nearly certain that the
hands and feet are the same. By laziness of the
tongue I do not mean silence ; I do not mean an ab-
sence of talk, for that is, in most cases, very good ;
but,l mean, a slaio and soft utterance; a sort of
sighing' aiit of the words instead of speaking them ;
a sort of letting the sounds fall out, as if the party
were sick at stomach. The pronunciation of an in-
dustrious person is generally gtiickj distinct^ and the

*.'

i I"

I '

w '■■

} f <■

•■F'-,.,"

'i!

mi'-k

• )'■

','1:

P, ■:•■'' !

I ; I

'««

ill

COBBETT^S ADVICE

[Letter

voice, if not strong,.^rwi at the least. Not mascu-
line ; as feminine as possible ; not a croak nor a
hawly but a quick, distinct, and sound voice. No-
thing is much more disgusting than what the sensi-
ble country people call a maw-mouthed viroman. A
maw-mouthed man is bad enough : he is sure to be
a lazy fellow : but, a woman of this description, in
addition to her laziness, soon becomes the most dis-
gusting of mates. In this whole world nothing is
much more hateful than a female's under jaw, lazily
moving up and down, and letting out a long string
of half-articulate sounds. It is impossible for any
man, who has any spirit in him, to love such a wo-
man for any length of time.

104. Look a little, also, at the labours of the teeth^
for these correspond with those of the other mem-
bers of the body, and with the operations of the
mind. " Quick at meal% quick at work^^'^ is a saying
as old as the hills, in this, the most industrious na-
tion upon earth ; and never was there a truer saying.
But fashion comes in here, and decides that you
shall not be quick at meals ; that you shall sit and
be carrying on the affair of eating for an hour, or
more. Good God ! what have I not suffered on this
account ! However, though she must sit as long as
the rest, and though she must join in the 'perform-
ance (for it is a real performance) unto the end of
the last scene, she cannot make her teeth abandon
their character. She may, and must, suffer the slice
to linger on the plate, and must make the supply
slow, in ordr . Ill up the time ; but when she does
bite, she canhv . ell disguise what nature has taught
her to do •, and you may be assured, that if her jaws
move in slow time, and if she rather squeeze than
bite the food ; if she so deal with it as to leave you
in doubt as to whether she mean finally to admit or
reject it j if she deal with it thus, set her down as
beins, in her very nature, incorrigibly lazy. Never
mind the pieces of needle-work, the tambouring, the
maps of the world made by her needle. Get to see
her at work upon a mutton-chop, or a bit of bread

age.

106.
andfho
of no in
is, even
it is, I i
alive toi
beholds
directly
and thei
morsels
endure
ing disg
And, as
living ar
labour o

.etter

ascu-
lor a

No-
sensi-
1. A
to be
on, in
St dis-
ing is
lazily
string
)r any

a wo-

e teeth,
r mem-
of the
saying
ous na-
saying.
mt you
sit and
lour, or
on this
long as
erfarm-
end of
bandon
he slice

supply
jhedoes
J taught
ler jaws
ze than
ave you
idmit or
lown as
Never

mg,

the

^X to see
)f bread

III.]

TO A LOVER.

and cheese ; and, if she deal quickly with these, you
have a pretty good security for that activity, that
stirrvnff industry without which a wife is a burden
insteadr of a help. And, as to love^ it cannot live for
more than a month or two (in the breast of a man
of spirit^ towards a lazy woman.

105. Another mark of industry is, a quick step,
and a somewhat Tieavy treads showing that the foot
comes down with a liearty good wUl ; and if the
body lean a little forward, and the eyes keep steadily
in the same direction, while the feet are going, so
much the better, for these discover earnestness to
arrive at the intended point. I do not like, and I
never liked, your sauntering, soft-stepping girls,
who move as if they were perfectly indifferent as to
the result ; and, as to the love part of the story, who-
ever expects ardent and lasting affection from one of
these sauntering girls, will, when too late, find his
mistake : the character runs the same all the way
through ; and no man ever yet saw a sauntering
girl, who did not, when married, make a mawkish
wife, and a cold-hearted mother ; cared very little
for either by husband or children ; and, of course,
having ro store of those blessings which are the
natural resources to apply to in sickness and in old
age.

106. Early-rising is another mark of industry ;
and though, in the higher stations of life, it may be
of no importance in a mere pecuniary point of view, it
is, even there, of importance in other respects ; for
it is, I should imagine, pretty difficult to keep love
alive towards a woman who never sees the dew, never
beholds the rising sun, and who constantly comes
directly from a reeking bed to the breakfast table,
and there chews about, without appetite, the choicest
morsels of human food. A man might, perhaps,
endure this for a month or two, without be-
ing disgusted ; but that is ample allowance of time.
And, as to people in the middle rank of life, where a
living and a provision for children is to be sought by
labour of some sort or other, late rising in the wifo

V' TIT

if '

,-5 •

■ i '

■A

:-4.

;

■ ', •

r:4 I

COBBETT'S ADVICE

[Letter

r'''vi

IS certain ruin ; and, never was there yet an early-
rising wife, who had been a late-rising girl. If
brought up to late rising, she will like it ; it will be
her habit ; she will, when married, never want ex-
cuses for indulging in the habit ; at first she will be
indulged without bounds ; to make a change after-
wards will be difficult ; it will be deemed a
wran.fr done to her ; she will ascribe it to diminished
affection ; a quarrel must ensue, or, the husband
must submit to be ruined, or, at the very least, to see
half the fruit of his labour snored and lounged
away. And, is this being rigid! Is it being harsh ;
is it being hard upon women ? Is it the offspring
of the frigid severity of age ? It is none of these :
it arises from an ardent desire to promote the happi-
ness, and to add to the natural, legitimate, and salu-
tary influence, of the female sex. The tendency of
this advice is to promote the preservation of their
health ; to prolong the duration of their beauty ; to
cause them to be loved to the last day of their lives ;
and to give them, during the whole of those livrs,
weight and consequence, of which laziness would
render them wholly unworthy.

107. Frugality. This means the contrary of <?^-
travagance. It does not mean stinginess ; it does
not mean a pinching of the belly, nor a stripping of
the back ; but it means an abstaining from all unne-
cessary expenditure, and all tmnecessary use, of
goods of any and of every sort ; and a quality of
great importance it is whether the rank m life be
high or low. Some people are, indeed, so rich, they
have such an overabundance of money and goods,
that how to get rid of them would, to a looker-on,
seem to be their only difficulty. But while the in-
convenience of even these immense masses is not
too great to be overcome by a really extravagant
woman who jumps with joy at a basket of straw-
berries at a guinea an ounce, and who would not
give a straw for green peas later in the year than
January ; while such a dame would lighten the bags
of a loan-monger, or shorten the rent-roll of half-a-

:^^

.eiler

tarly-
1. If
rill be
it ex-

jiW be
after-
led a
fiished
isband
to see
mnged
karsh ;
fspring
these :
happi-
id salu-
ency of
of their
uty ; to
ir lives;
e lives,
would

iiLi

TO A LOVER.

dozen peerages amalgamat6d into ont possession,
she would, with a very little study and application
of her talent, send a nobleman of ordinary estate to
the poor-house or the pension list, which last may
be justly regarded as the poor-book of the aristocra-
cy. How many noblemen and gentlemen, of fine
estates, have been ruined and degraded by the ex-
travagance of their wives! More frequently by
their own extravagance, perhaps; but, in nume-
rous instances, by that of those whose duty it is to
assist in upholding their stations by husbanding
their fortunes.

108. If this be the case amongst the opulent, who
have estates to draw upon, what must be the conse-
quences of a want of frugality in the middle and
lower ranks of life ? Here it must be fatal, and es-
pecially amongst that description of persons whose
wives have, in many cases, the receiving as well as
the expending of money. In such a case, there
wants nothing but extravagance in the wife to make
ruin as sure as the arrival of old age. To obtain se-
curity against this is very difficult ; yet, if •the lover
be not quite blind, he may easily discover a propen-
sity towards extravagance. The object of his ad-
dresses will, nine times out of ten, not be the mana-
ger of a house ; but she must have her dress, and
other little matters under her control. If she be
cosily in these; if, in these, she step above her
rank, or even to the top of it ; if she purchase all
she is able to purchase, and prefer the showy to the
useful, the gay and the fragile to the less sightly and
more durable, he may be sure that the disposition
will cling to her through life. If he perceive in her
a taste for costly food, costly furniture, costly
amusements ; if he find her love of gratification to
be bounded only by her want of means ; if he find
her full of admiration of the trappings of the rich,
and of desire to be able to imitate them, he may be
pretty sure that she will not spare his purse, when
once she gets her band into it ; and, therefore, if he

i t

■ 1

l' -r

1 ■ •

. -l'

: A

' '**'

■?'^-! :•;!

•';-'f

I. . I, , "'
1 il,

'!:-1-t,

ssm

COBBETr's ADVICE

LLetter

can bid adieu to her charms, the sooner he does it
the better.

109. The outward and visible and vulgar signs of
extravagance are ring's, broachesj braceletSy buckles,
necklaces, diamonds, (real or mock,) and, in short,
all the hard-ware which women put upon their per-
sons. These things may be proper enough in polar
ces, or in scenes resembling palaces ; but, when they
meke their appearance amongst people in the middle
rank of life, where, after all, they only serve to
show that poverty in the parties which they wish to
disguise ; when the nasty, mean, tawdry things
make their appearance in this rank of life, they are
the sure indications of a disposition that will always
be straining- at what it can neve attain. To marry
a girl of this disposition is really self-destruction.
You never can have either property or peace. Earn
her a horse to ride, she will want a gig : earn the
gig, she will want a chariot : get her that, she will
long for a coach and four : and, from stage to stage,
she will torment you to the end of her or your days ;
for, still there will be somebody with a finer equip-
age than* you can give her ; and, as long as this is
the case, you will never have rest. Reason would
tell her, that she could never be at the top ; that she
must stop at some point short of that j and that,
therefore, all expenses in the rivalship are so much
thrown away. But, reason and broaches and brace-
lets do not go in company : the girl who has not the
sense to perceive that her person is disfigured, and
not beautified, by parcels of brass and tin (for they
are generally little better) and other hardware, stuck
about her body ; the girl that is so foolish as not to
perceive, that, when silks and cottons and cambrics,
m their neatest form, have done their best, nothing
more is to be done ; the girl that cannot perceive
this is too great a fool to be trusted with the purse of
any man.

110. Cleanliness. This is a capital ingredient ;
for there never yet was, and there never will be, love
of long duration, sincere and ardent love, in any

son

jetter
oes it

;n8 of

icklesy

short,

ir per-

i palor

n they

[niddle

rve to

vish to

things

ley are

always
marry

•uction.
Gam

am the

she will

,0 stage,

irdays;

r equip-

,s this is
would

that she
d that,
much
id brace-
not the
ed, and
for they
■e, stuck
iS not to
lambrics,
nothing
Iperceive
purse of

in.]

TO A LOVER.

man, towards a ^^JUthy matey I mean any man in
England, or in those parts of America where the
people have descended from the English, I do not
say, that there are not men enough, even in England,
to live peaceably and even contentedly, with dirty,
sluttish women ; for, there are some who seem to
like the tilth well enough. But what I contend for
is this : that there never can exist, for any length of
time, ardent affection, in any man towards a woman
who is filthy either in her person, or in her house
affairs. Men may be careless as to their own per-
son ; they may, from the nature of their business,
or from their want of time to adhere to neatness in
dress, be slovenly in their own dress and habits ; but,
they do not relish this in their wives, who must still
have charms ; and charms and filth do not go to-
gether.

HI. It is not dress that the husband wants to be
perpetual : it is not Jinery; but cleanliness in every
thing. The French women dress enough, especially
when they saUy forth. My excellent neighbour,
Mr. John Tredwell, of Long Island, used to say,
that the French were " pigs in the parlour, and pea-
cocks on the promenade j" an alliteration which
" Canninq's self" might have envied I This occa-
sionai cleanliness is not the thing that an English or
an American husband wants : he wants it always ;
indoors as well as out j by night ap well as by day ;
on the floor as well as on the tabic ; and, however
he may grumble about the "/t<»s" and the "ea?pew«e"
of it, he would grumble more if he had it not. I
once saw a picture representing the amusements of
Portuguese Lovers; that is to say, three or four
young men, dressed in gold or silver laced clothes,
each having a young girl, dressed like a princess,
and affectionately engaged in hunting down and
kming the vermin in his head I This was, perhaps,
an exaggeration; but that it should have had the
shadow of foundation, was enough to fill me with
contempt for the whole nation.

1 12. The signs of cleanliness are, in the first place,

•'■^'W

•

' 'i

•■■•,- w

■f-4. '

»K'

1 1

> >'

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

;v I'll

"-J

rl- ■.'- I !i

% 'PI

^■'fir.'

li :i

i-l :T

»^ik

■ I ; '

I, '

^ I

iii

•■* ; 1,

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

1 1

■•I

■::f

- '5

ad'

■

■•■ *.

104

cobbett's advice

(Letter

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

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

III

W;.,;'' illl!!l:i

^S "'I ':„

! m

■I'M I 1

iMi

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

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;

,-)

■'III!

10*

COBBETT'S ADVICE

[Letter

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-
<iuently but too just. But an everlasting complain-
ing, without rhyme or reason, is a bad sign. It
shows want of patience, and, indeed, want of sense.
But, the contrary of this, a cold indifference^ is still
worse. " When will you come again ? You can
never find time to come here. You like any com-
pany better than mine." These, when groundless,
are v*»ry teasing, and demonstrate a disposition too
full of anxiousness ; but, from a girl who always re-
ceives you with the same civil smile, lets you, at
your own good pleasure, depart with the same ; and
who, when you take her by the hand, holds her cold
fingers as straight as sticks, I say (or should if I
were young,) God, in his mercy, preserve me !

127. Pertinacity is a very bad thing in any body,
and ^specially in a young woman ; and it is sure to
increase in force with the age of the party. To have
the last word is a poor triumph ; but with some
people it is a species of disease of the mind. In a
wife it must be extremely troublesome ; and, if you
find an ounce of it in the maid, it will become a
pound in the wife. An eternal disputer is a most
disagreeable companion ; and where young women
thrust their say into conversations carried on by
older persons, give their opinions in a positive man-
ner, and court a contest of the tongue, those must
be very bold men who will encounter them as wives.

128. Still, of all the faults as to temper, your me-
hmcholy ladies have the worst, unless you have the
same mental disease. Most wives arc, at time, mise-
ry-makers ; but these carry it on as a regular trade.
They are always unhappy about something, either
past, present, or to come. Both arms full of
children is a pretty efficient remedy in most cases ;
but, if the ingredients be wanting, a little want^ a
little real trouble, a little genuine affliction must, if
you would effect a cure, be resorted to. But, this is
very painful to a man of any feeling ; and, therefore^

jetter

these
B fre-
plain-
n. It
sense,
is still
u can
com-
idless,
on too
lysre-
jrou, at
s; and
er cold
lid if I
b!

T body,
sure to
?o have
1 some
. In a
if you
ome a
a most
women
on by
e man-
must
wives.
3ur w«-
ave the
, mise-
trade.
, either
full of
; cases ;
wantf a

III.]

TO A tOVER.

109

the best way is to avoid a connexion, which is to
give you a life of wailing and sighs.

129. Beauty. Though I have reserved this to the
last of the things to be desired in a wife, I by no
means think it the last in point of importance. The
less favoured part of the sex say, that "beauty is
but skin-deep ;" and this is very true ; but, it is very
agreeable, tnough, for all that. Pictures are only
paint-deep, or pencil-deep ; but we admire them,
nevertheless. " Handsome is that handsome does^'*
used to say to me an old man. who had marked me
out for his not over handsome daugliter. " Please
your eye and plague your heart" is an adage that
want of beauty invented, I dare say, more than a
thousand years ago. These adages would say, if
they had but the courage, that beauty is inconsistent
with chastity, with sobriety of conduct, and with all
the female virtues. The argument is, that beauty
exposes the possessor to greater temptation than
women not beautiful are exposed to ; and that, ther-e-
fore, their fall is more probable. Let us see a little
how this matter stands.

130. It is certainly true, that pretty girls will have
more, and more ardent, admirers than ugly ones ;
but, as to the temptation when in their unmarried
state, there are few so very ugly as to be exposed to
no temptation at all ; and, which is the most likely
to resist ; she who has a choice of lovers, or she who
if she let the occasion slip may never have it again?
Which of the two is most likely to set a high value
upon her reputation, she whom all beholders admire,
or she who is admired, at best, by mere chance?
And as to women in the married state, this argu-
ment assumes, that, when they fall, it is from their
own vicious disposition; when the fact is, that, if
you search the annals of conjugal infidelity, you
will find, that, nine times out of ten, the faidt is in
the Jmshand. It is his neglect, his flagrant disregard,
his frosty indifference, his foul example; it is to
these that, nine times out of ten, he owes the infi-
delity of his wife ; and, if I were to say ninety-nine

10..

I 1 I k,' k

■^:

i (

r 1

■ • t .

•A

.11

l!i.

.110

oobbbtt's AnvicB

[Letter

llHi

i!li

times out of a hundred, the facts, if verified, would,
I am certain, bear me out. And whence this neg-
lect, this disregard, this frosty indifference ; whence
this foul examples Because it is easy, in so many
cases, to find some women more beautiful than the
wife. This is j\o justification for the husband to
plead ; for he has, with his eyes open, made a so-
lemn contract : if he have not beauty enough to
please him, he should have sought it in some other
woman : if, as is frequently the case, he have pre-
ferred rank or money to beauty, he is an unprinci-
pled man, if he do any thing to make her unhappy
who has brought him the rank or the money. At
any rate, as conjugal infidelity is, in so many cases ;
as it is generally caused by the want of affection and
due attention in the husband, it follows, of course,
that it must more frequently happen in the case of
ugly than in that of handsome women.

131. In point of dress, nothing need be said to
convince any reasonable man, that beautiful women
will be less expensive in this respect than women of
a contrary description. Experience teaches us, that
ugly women are always the most studious about
their dress ; and, if we had never observed upon the
subject, reason would tell us, that it must be so.
Few women are handsome without knowing it ; and
if they know that their features naturally attract
admiration, will they desire to draw it off, and to fix
it on lace and silks and jewels?

132. As to manners and temper there are certainly
some handsome women who are conceited and arro-
gant ; but, as they have all the best reasons in the
world for being pleased with themselves, they afford
you the best chance of general good humour ; and
this good humour is a very valuable commodity in
the married state. Some that are called handsome,
and that are such at the first glance, are dull, inani-
mate things, that might as well have been made of wax,
or of wood. But, the truth is, that this is not heauty^
for this is not to be found only in the form of the
features, but in the movements of them also. Be-

[jetfer

rould,
I neg-
hence
many
Bin the
and to
a so-
igh to
other
;re pre-
princi-
ihappy
y. At
cases ;
Lon and
course,
case of

said to
women
jmen oi
us, that
s about
pon the
be so.
it ; and
attract
id to fix

Brtainly
id arro-
inthe
y afford
ar; and
)dity in
idsome,
1, inani-
ofwax,
; heatUyj
of the
fco. Be-

lli.]

TO A LOVER*

111

sides, here nature is very impartial ; for she gives
animation promiscuously to the handsome as well
as to the ugly ; and the want of this in the former is
surely as bearable as in the latter.

133. But, the great use of female beauty, the great
practical advantage of it is, that it naturally and un-
avoidably tends to keep the husband in good humour
with himself y to make him, to use the dealer's plurase,
pleased with his bargain. When old age approach-
es, and the parties have become endeared to each
other by a long series of joint cares and interests,
and when children have come and bound them to-
gether by the strongest ties that nature has in store ;
at this age the features and the person are of less
consequence ; but, in the young days of matrimony,
when the roving eye of the bachelor is scarcely be-
come steady in the head of the husband, it is dan-
gerous for him to see, every time he stirs out, a face
more captivating than that of the person to whom he
is bound for life. Beauty is, in some degree, a mat-
ter of taste : what one man admires, another does*
not ; and it is fortunate for us that it is thus. But
still there are certain things that all men admire ;
and a husband is always pleased when he perceives
that a portion, at least, of these things are in his own
possession : he takes this possession as a compliment
to himself: there must, he will think the world will
believe, have been some merit in him, some charm,
seen or unseen, to have caused him to be blessed
with the acquisition.

134. And then there arise so many things, sickness,
misfortune in business, losses, many, many things,
wholly unexpected ; and, there are so many circum-
stances, perfectly nameless, to communicate to the
new-married man the fact, that is not a real angel of
whom he has got the possession ; there are so many
things of this sort, so many and such powerful
dampers of the passions, and so many incentives to
cod rdiection ; that it requires something, and a
good d.eal too, to keep the husband in countenance
in this his altered and enlightened state. The pas-

15'

^- \

' 1

< 1

112

cobbett's advice

[Letter

.?'. ',1 ''

!ii:;i: iir

m^H

»■

fiion of women does not cool so soon ; the lamp
of their love burns more steadily, and even bright-
ens as it burns : and, there is, the young man may be
assured, a vast difference in the effect of the fond-
ness of a pretty woman and that of one of a differ-
ent description ; and, let reason and philosophy say
what they will, a man will come down stairs of a
morning better pleased after seeing the former, than
he would after seeing the latter, in her night-cap.

135. To be sure, when a man has, from whatever
inducement, once married a woman, he is unjust and
cruel if he even slight her on account of her want of
beauty, and, if he treat her harshly, on this account,
he is a brute. But, it requires a greater degree of
reflection and consideration than foils to the lot of
men in general to make them act with justice in
such a case ; and, therefore, the best way is to guard,
if you can, against the temptation to commit such
injustice, which is to be done in no other way, than
by not marrying any one that you do not think hand-
some,

136. I must not conclude this address to the Lo-
ver without something on the subject of seduction
and inconstancy. In, perhaps, nineteen cases out of
twenty, there is, in the unfortunate cases of illicit
gratification, no seduction at all, the passion, the
absence of virtue, and the crime, being all mutual.
But, there are other cases of a very different descrip-
tion ; and where a man goes coolly and deliberately
to work, first to gain and rivet the affections of a
young girl, then to take advantage of those affec-
tions to accomplish that which he knows must be
her ruin, and plunge her into misery for life ; when
a man does this merely for the sake of a momentary
gratification, he must be either a selfish and unfeel-
ing brute, unworthy of the name of man, or he
must have a heart little inferior, in point of obdura-
cy, to that of the murderer. Let young women,
however, be aware ; let them be well aware, that
few, indeed, are the cases in which this apology can
possibly avail them. Their character is not solely

Letter

lamp
»right-
laybe
! fond-
differ-
ly say
rs of a
r, than
cap.
latever
list and
want of
cconnt,
gree of
e lot of
3tice in
) guard,
[lit such
ly, than
Je hand-

PHE Lo-
eductim
s out of
of illicit
on, the
mutual,
descrip-
berately
ons of a
se affec-
must be
; when
mentary
i unfeel-
, or he
obdura-
women,
Bire, that
ogy can
t solely

ni.]

TO A LOVER.

)13

theirs, but belongs, in part, to their family and kin-
dred. They may, in the case contemplated, be ob-
jects of compassion with the world ; but what con-
trition, what repentance, what remorse, what that
even the tenderest benevolence can suggest, is to
heal the wounded hearts of humbled, disgraced, but
still affectionate, parents, brethren and sisters 1

137. As to constancy in Lovers, though I do not
approve of the saying, "At lovers' lies Jove laughs ;"
yet, when people are young, one object may sup-
plant another in their affections, not only without
criminality in the party experiencing the change,
but without blame ; and it is honest, and even hu-
mane, to act upon the change ; because it would be
both foolish and cruel to marry one girl while you
liked another better : and the same holds good with
regard to the other sex. Even when marriage
has been pro7M25ec2, and that, too, in the most solemn
manner, it is better for both parties to break off,
than to be coupled together with the reluctant as-
sent of either ; and I have always thought, that ac-
tions for damages, on this score, if brought by the
girl, show a want of delicacy as well as of spirit ;
and, if brought by the man, excessive meanness.
Some damage may, indeed, have been done to the
complaining party ; but no damage equal to what
that party would have sustained from a marriage, to
which the other party would have yielded by a sort
of compulsion, producing to almost a certainty what
Hogarth, in his Marriage a la Mode, n>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

' ■* f

t ■

I-

>.^*.

>. t

il '

■\

4 N

\'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>

. *•■

'^' Ir

■ i ■ \i :

* t*

... §

>»;'■' ■'

.:, '.

i .

■ 1 ' ■'

%,' '

;■!■

- ''' ' ' \-

■

i}'f

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<.'

I I

,.■

ii:

ioi

118

COBBETT'S ADVICE

[Letter

mi "n

k J

!:r!i|

fi. • ;;

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'

! r''

■■J

i-^ fei

'^■;| •■-X..

\ \

120

COBBETT'S ADVICE

[Letter

•t*

II. '■''

rr/i

i ijii

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

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-

—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 <J (I

TO A HUSBAND.

t^'

H't'l^

ill

!lilil

•|H i

152. It is ia this capacity that your conduct will
have the greatest effect on your happiness; and a
great deal will depend on the manner in which you
begin. I am to suppose that you have made a good
choice; but a good young woman may be made, by
a weak, a harsh, a neglectful, an extravagant, or a pro-
fligate husband, a really bad wife and mother. All in
a wife, beyond her own natural disposition and edu-
cation is, nine times out of ten, the work of her
husband.

153. The first thing of all, be the rank in life what
it may, is to convince her of the necessity of modera-
tion of expense; and to make her clearly see the jus-
tice of beginning to act upon the presumption, that
there are children comings that they are to be pro-
vided for, and that she is to assist in the making of
that provision. Legally speaking, we have a right
to do what we please with our own property, whidi,
however, is not our own, unless it exceed our debts.
And, morally speaking, we, at the moment of our
marriage, contract a debt with the naturally to be ex-
pected fruit of it ; and, therefore (reserving farther
remarks upon this subject till I come to speak of the
education of children), the scale of expense should,
at the beginning, be as low as that of which a due
attention to rank in life will admit.

151. The great danger of all is, beginning with

'M ', I

11!

Letter

J ques-
[ear to
^ and

luct will
s; and a
lich you
le a^ood
made, by
, or a pro-
3r. All in
and cdu-
k of lier

f.'^

IV.]

TO A HUSBAND.

123

servants^ or a servant. "UTiere there are riches, or
where the business is so great as to demand help in
the carrying on of the affairs of a house, one or more
female servants must be kept ; but, where the work
of a house can be done by one pair of hands, why
should there be two ; especially as you cannot have
the hands without having the mouthy and, which is
frequently not less costly, inconvenient and inju-
rious, the tongue? When children come, there must,
at times, be some foreign aid ; but, until then, what
need can the wife of a young tradesman, or even
farmer (unless the family be great) have of a servant?
The wife is young, and why is she not to work as
well as the husband ? What justice is there in want-
ing you to keep two women instead of one ? You
have not married them both in form ; but,iif they be
inseparable, you have married them in substance ;
and if you are free from the crime of bigamy, you
have the far most burthensome part of its conse-
quences.

155. I am well aware of the unpopularity of this
doctrine ; well aware of its hostility to prevalent
habits ; well aware that almost every tradesman and
every farmer, though with scarcely a shilling to call
his own ; and that every clerk, and every such per-
son, begins by keeping a servant, and that the latter
is generally provided before the wife be installed ; I
am well aware of all this; but knowing, from long
and attentive observation, that it is the great bane of
the marriage life ; the great cause of that penury,
and of those numerous and tormenting embarrass-
ments, amidst which conjugal felicity can seldom
long be kept alive, I give the advice, and state the
reasons on which it was founded.

156. In London, or near it, a maid servant cannot
be kept at an expense so low as that of thirty pounds
a year ; for, besides her wages, board and lodging,
there must be a Jire solely for her ; or she must sit
with the husband and wife, hear every word that
passes be- ween them, and between them and their
friends j which will of course, greatly add to the

1 '"••

J ■ i ,

. ^ 1 ■ :

iili

I 1 ,:l

■'(■ '

W ■"'>■'

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-
<er." This is almost downright bigamy ; but this
can never do ; and, therefore, she must have a Jii-e
to herself. Besides the blaze of coals, however, there
is another sort oi fiame that she will inevitably co-
vet. She will by no means be sparing of the coals ;
but, well fed and well lodged, as she will be, what-
ever you may be, she will naturally sigh for the fire
of love, for which she carries in her bosom a match
always ready prepared. In plain language, you have
a man to keep, a part, at least, of every week ; and
the leg of lamb, which might have lasted you and
your wife for three days, will, by this gentleman's
sighs, be borne away in one. Shut the door against
this intruder ; out she goes herself: and, if she go
empty-handed, she is no true Christian, or, at least,
will not be looked upon as such by the charitable
friend at whose house she meets the longing soul,
dying partly with love and partly with hunger.

157. The cost, altogether, is nearer fifty pounds a
year than thirty. How many thousands of trades-
men and clerks, and the like, who might have pass-
ed through life without a single embarrassment, have
lived in continual trouble and fear, and found a pre-
mature grave, from this very cause, and this cause
alone I When I, on my return from America, in
1800, lived a short time in Saint James's Street, fol-
lowing my habit of early rising, I used to see the
servant maids, at almost every house, dispensing
charity at the expense of their masters, long before
they, good men, opened their eyes, who thus did
deeds of benevolence, not on^j without boasting of
them, but without knowing of them. Meat, bread,
cheese, butter, coals, candles ; all came with equal
freedom from these liberal hands. I have observed

Xciter

lie still
le J and
3r than
able in-

a cer-
who, as
f " mas-
but this
ire a Jive
er, there
lably co-
le coals ;
Cj what-
r the fire

1 a match
you have
eek ; and
L you and
ntleman's
ov against

if she go
•, at least,
charitable
ging soul,
nger.
pounds a
of trades-
lave pass-
nent,have
und a pre-
this cause
merica, in
Street, fol-
to see the
dispensing
ong before
10 thus did
boasting of
[eat, bread,
with equal
^e observed

iv.J

TO A HUSBAND.

125

the same, in my early walks and rides, in every part
of this great place and its environs. Wliere there
is one servant it is worse than where there are two or
more ; for, happily for their employers, they do not
always agrco. So that the oppression is most heavy
on those who are the least able to bear it : and par-
ticularly on clerics, and such like people, whose wives
seem to think, that, because the husband's work is
of a genteel description, they ought to live the life
of ladies. Poor fellows ! their work is not hard and
rough, to be sure ; but, it is work, and work for many
hours too, and painful enough ; and as to their in-
come, it scarcely exceeds, on an average, the double,
at any rate, of that of a journeyman carpenter,
bricklayer, or tailor. .

158. Besides, the man and wife will live on chea-
per diet and drink than a servant will live. Thou-
sands, who would never have had beer in their house,
have it for the servant, who will not live without it.
However frugal your wife, her frugality is of little
use, if she have one of these inmates to provide for.
Many a hundred thousand times has it happened
that the butcher and the butter-man have been ap-
plied to solely because there was a servant to satisfy.
You cannot, with this clog everlastingly attached to
you, be frugal, if you would : you can save nothing
against the days of expense, which are, however,
pretty sure to come. And why should you bring
into your house a trouble like this ; an absolute
annoyance ; a something for your wife to watch, to
be a constraint upon her, to thwart her in her best
intentions, to make her uneasy, and to sour her
temper ? Why should you do this foolish thing ?
Merely to comply with corrupt fashion ; merely from
false shame, and false and contemptible pride ? If a
young man were, on his marriage, to find any difld-
culty in setting this ruinous fashion at defiance, a
very good way would be to count down to his wife,
at the end of evv^ry week, the amount of the expense
of a servant for that week, and request her to depo-
sit it in her drawer. In a short time she would find

11*

' Ih,;

• I

' ,m

1 '^

•' ■■'-}

•A

i : f

;, , .;i ' il]

■t:m

i ■ (1

l1l'

1*26

cobbett'3 advice

[Letter

the sura so large, that she would be frightened at the
thoughts of a servant ; and would never dream of
one again, except in case of absolute necessity, and
then for as short a time as possible.

159. But the wife may not be able to do all the
work to be done in the house. Not able ! A young
woman not able to cook and wash, and mend and
make, and clean the house and make the bed for one
young man and herself, and that young man her
husband too, who is quite willing (if he be worth a
straw) to put up with cold dinner, or with a crust ;
to get up and light her fire ; to do any thing that the
mind can suggest to spare her labour, and to con-
duce to her convenience ! Not able to do this ? Then,
if she brought no fortune, and he had none, she
ought not to have been able to marry : and, let me
tell you, young man, a small fortune would not put
a servant-keeping wife upon an equality with one
who required no such inmate.

160. If, indeed, the work of a house were harder
than a young woman could perform without pain,
or great fatigue ; if it had a tendency to impair her
health or deface her beauty ; then you might hesitate:
but, it is not too hard, and it tends to preserve health,
to keep the spirits buoyant, and, of course, to pre-
serve beauty. You often hear girls, while scrubbing
or washing, singing till they are out of breath ; but
never while they are at what they call working at
the needle. The American wives are most exempla-
ry in this respect. They have none of that false
pride, which prevents thousands in England from
doing that which interest, reason, and even their own
inclination would prompt them to do. They work,
not from necessity ; not from compulsion of any
sort ; for their husbands are the most indulgent in
the whole world. In the towns they go to the mar-
ket, and cheerfully carry home the result : in the
country, they not only do the work in the house,
but extend their labours to the garden, plant and
weed and hoe, and gather and preserve the fruits and
the herbs -, and this, too, in a climate far from being

dun
and

•*

IV.J

TO A HUSBAND.

127

! 1 I 1.,

SO favourable to labour as that of England ; and they
are amply repaid for these by those gratifications
which their excellent economy enable ^heir hus-
bands to bestow upon them, and which it is their
universal habit to do with a hberal hand.

161. But did I practise what I am here preaching?
Aye, and to the full extent. Till I had a second child,
no servant ever entered my house, though well able
to keep one ; and never, in my whole life, did I live
in a house so clean, in such trim order, and never
have I eaten or drunk, or slept or dressed, in a man-
ner so perfectly to my fancy, as I did then. I had a
great deal of business to attend to, that took me a
great part of the day from home ; but, whenever I
could spare a minute from business, the child was in
my arms ; I rendered the mother's labour as light as
I could ; any bit of food satisfied me ; when watch-
ing was necessary, we shared it between us ; and
that famous Grammar for teaching French people
English, which has been for thirty years, and still is,
the great work of this kind, throughout all America,
and in every nation in Europe, was written by me,
in hours not employed in business, and, in great part,
during my share of the night-watchings over a sick,
and then only child, who, after lingering many
months, died in my arms.

162. This was the way that we went on : this was
the way that we began the married life ; and surely,
that which we did with pleasure no young couple,
unendowed with fortune, ought to be ashamed to do.
But she may be ill ; the time may be near at hand,
or may have actually arrived, when she must en-
counter that particular pain and danger of which
you Jiave been the happy came ! Oh ! that is quite
another matter ! And if you new exceed in care, in
watchings over her, in tender attention to all her
wishes, in anxious efforts to quiet her fears ; if you
exceed in pains and expense to procure her relief
and secure her life; if you, in any of these, exceed
that which I would recommend, you must be ro-
mantic mdeed ! She deserves them all, and more than

' I

-. '^
1

Kjt

! ■

I I

■' a 'I ! I!

|-:M

)';'

\?\. ■ fcii i

I I

■Hi

Mi\-m

• ' ''f

II!

iiiliil

wBW

128

COBBETT 3 ADVICE

LLctter

all, ten thousand times told. And now it is that you
feel the blessing conferred by her economy. That
heap of money, wliich might have been squandered
on, or by, or in consequence of, an useless servant,
you now have in hand wherewith to procure an
abundance of that skill and that attendance of which
she stands in absolute need ; and she, when restored
lo you in smiling health, has the just pride to reflect,
that she may have owed her life and your happiness
to the effects of her industry.

163. It is tlie beginning that is every thing in this
important case ; and you will have, perhaps, much
to do to convince her, not that what you recommend
is advantageous; not that it is right ; but to convince
her that she can do it without sinking beloAV the sta-
tion that she ought to maintain. She would cheer-
fully do it; but there are her vext-cloor neighbours^
who do not do it, though, in all other respects, on a
parwithher. It is not laziness, but pernicious fashion,
that you will have to combat. But the truth is, that
there ought to be no combat at all ; this important
matter ought to be settled and fully agreed on before-
hand. If she really love you, and have common
sense, she will not hesitate a moment; and if she be
deficient in either of these respects ; and if you be so
mad in love as to be unable to exist without her, it is
better to cease to exist at once, than to become the
toiling and embarrassed slave of a wasting and pil-
laging servant.

164. The next thing to be attended to is, your de-
meanor towards a young wife. As to oldish ones,
or widows, time and other things have, in most cases,
blunted their feelings, and rendered harsh or stern de-
meanor in the husband a matter not of heart-break-
ing consequence. But with a young and inex-
perienced one, the case is very different ; and you
should bear in mind, that the first frown that she re-
ceives from you is a dagger to her heart. Nature has
so ordered it, that men shall become less ardent in
their passion after the wedding day ; and that women
shall npt. Their ardour increases rather than the

i««

[^Letter

liat you
. That
andered
servant,
3ure an
»f which
restored
reflect,
appincss

ig m this
)s, much
oinmend
convince
V the sta-
id checr-
ghbotirSj
3Cts, on a
s fashion,
th is, that
niportant
3n before-
common
[ if she be
you be so
t her, it is
jcome the
g and pil-

, your lie-

ilish ones,

lost cases,

r stern de-

art-break-

md inex-

and you

lat she re-

lature has

ardent in

at women

than the

iv.l

TO A HUSnAND.

contrary ; and tliey are surprisingly viiuck-8i< fed
and inquisitive on this score. When the child comes,
it divides this ardour with the father ; but until then
you have it all ; and if you have a mind to be happy,
repay it with all your soul. Let M'hat may happen
to put you out of humour with others, let nothing
put you out of humour with her. Let your words
and looks and manners be just what they were be-
fore you called her wife.

165. But now, and throughout your life, show
your affection for her, and your admiration of her,
not in nonsensical compliment; not in picking up
her handkerchief, or her glove, or in carrying her
fan or parasol ; not, if you have the means, in hang-
ing trinkets and baubles upon her ; not in making
yourself a fool by winking at, and seeming pleased
at, her foibles, or follies, or faults ; but show them
by acts of real goodness towards her ; prove by un-
equivocal deeds the high value that you set on her
health and life and peace of mind ; let your praise
of her go to the full extent of her deserts, but let it
be consistent with truth and with sense, and such as
to convince her of your sincerity. He who is the
flatterer of his wife only prepares her ears for the
hyperbolical stuff of others. The kindest appella-
tion that her Christian name affords is the best you
can use, especially before faces. An everlasting
" my dear^^ is but a sorry compensation for a want
of that sort of love that makes the husband cheer-
fully toil by day, break his rest by night, endure all
sorts of hardships, if the life or health of his wife de-
mand it. Let your deeds, and not your words, carry
to her heart a daily and hourly confirmation of the
fact, that you value her health and life and happiness
beyond all other things in the world ; and let this be
manifest to her, particularly at those times when life
is always more or less in danger.

166. I began my young marriage days in and near
Philadelphia. At one of those times to which I
have just alluded, in the middle of the burning hot
month of July, I was greatly afraid of fatal conse-

■ )

130

COBBETT'a ADVICE

[Letter

:, I

qucnccs to my wife for want of sleep, she not having,
after the great danger was over, had any sleop for
more than forty-eigiit hours. Ail great cities, in hot
countries, are, I believe, full of dogs ; and they, in
the very hot weather, keep up, during the night, a
horrible barking and fighting and howling. Upon
the particular occasion to which I am adverting, they
made a noise so terrible and so unremitted, tliat it
was next to impossible that even a person in full
health and free from pain should obtain a minute's
sleep. I was, about nine in the evening, sitting by
the bed : " I do think," said she, " that I could go to
sleep noWj if it were not^br Uie dogs.^^ Down stairs
I went, and out I sallied, in my shirt and trovvscrs,
and without shoes and stockings ; and, going to a
heap of stones lying beside the road, set to work
upon the dogs, going backward and forward, and
keeping them at two or three hundred yards' dis-
tance from the house. I walked thus the whole night,
barefooted, lest the noise of my shoes might possibly
reach her ears ; and I remember that the bricks of
the causeway were, even in the night, so hot as to
be disagreeable to my feet. My exertions produced
the desired effect: a sleep of several hours was the
consequence ; and, at eight o'clock in the morning,
oflf went I to a day's business, which was to end at
six in the evening.

107. Women are all patriots of the soil ; and when
her neighbours used to ask my wife whether all Eng-
lish husliands were like hers, she boldly answered in
the affirmative. I had business to occupy the whole
of my time, Sundays and week-days, except sleep-
ing hours J but I used to make time to assist her in
the taking care of her baby, and in all sorts of things:
get up, light her fire, boil her tea-kettle, carry her up
warm water in cold weather, take the child while
she dressed herself and got the breakfast ready, then
breakfast, get her in water and wood for the day,
then dress myself neatly, and sally forth to my busi-
ness. The moment that was over I used to hasten
back to her again j and I no more thought of spend-

IV.];

Ing a n

pelted
and go
trenien
are in
much a
feeling
she \A ai
in those
that m^
but, be
I used
momeni
Scores
errand,
men, wl
ccedingl
was mal
say, wit'
jours J M
168.1
seldom,
with her
course o
ing goni(
I never
been hw
in the nc
not walk
bate a lU
husband,
lliat whi
ed Willi
to prove
and for w
those oc(
cessity fc
ry thing
some En
Isle of E
riunsj tin

I I

Letter

[iving,
Rp for
ill hot
ley, in
ight, a

Upon
?, tliey
that it
in full
inute's
ing by
d go to
I stairs
)vvscrs,
g to a
J work
I'll, and
ds' dis-
e iiiglit,
(ossibly
•icks of
)t as to
oduced
vas the
orning,

end at

IV.]

TO A HUSBilND.

131

ing a moment away from hei\ unless business com-
pelled me, than I thought of quitting the country
and going to sea. The thunder and lightning are
tremendous in America, compared with what they
are in England, My wife was, at one time, very
much afraid of thunder and lightning \ and as is the
feeling of all such women, and, indeed, all men too,
she ^^ anted company, and particularly her husband,
in those times of danger. I knew well, of course,
tliat my presence would not diminish the danger ;
but, be I at what I might, if within reach of home,
I used to quit my business and hasten to her, the
moment I perceived a thunder storm approaching.
Scores of miles have I, first and last, run on this
errand, in the streets of Philadelphia ! The French-
men, who were my scholars, used to laugh at me ex-
ceedingly on this account; and sometimes, when I
was making an appointment with them, they would
say, with a smile and a bow, " Sauve la tonnere tou-

jour s^

Mmsieur Cobbett.^^

168. 1 never dangled about at the heels of my wife ;
scklom, very seldom, ever walked out, as it is called,
with her ; I never " went a walking^'' in the whole
course of my life ; never went to walk without hav-
nig some object in view other than the walk ; and, as
I never could walk at a slow pace, it would have
been hard icork for her to keep up with me ; so that,
in the nearly ibrty years of our married life, we have
not walked out together, perhaps, twenty times. I
hate a dangler, who is more like a footman than a
husband. It is very cheap to bo kind in trijles ; but
that whicli rivets the iiilections is not to be purchas-
ed with money. The great thing of all, however, is
to prove your anxiety at those times of peril to her,
and for which times you, nevertheless, wish. Upon
those occasions I was never from home, be the ne-
cessity for it ever so great : it was my rule, that eve-
ry thing must give way to that. In the year 18(19,
some English local militiamen wcvc Jlogged, in the
Isle of Ely, in England, under a guard cf Hanove-
rians, then stationed in England. I, reading an ac-

•1^

r-!M

,-l ,:

■• »

I •

i;<

«4

ifil I

It .:

132

cobbett's advice

LLetter

count of this in a London newspaper, called the
CouRiERj expressed my indignation at it in such
terms as it became an Englishman to do. The At-
torney General, Gibbs, was set on upon me ; he ha-
rassed me for nearly a year, then brought me to
trial, and I was, by EUenborough, Grose, Le Blanc,
and Bailey, sentenced to two year's^ imprisonment in
Newgate, to pay a fine to the kin^ of a thousand
pounds, and to be held in heavy bailfor seven years
after the expiration of the imprisonment ! Every
one regarded it as a sentence of death. I lived in
the country at the time, seventy miles from London ;
I had a farm on my hands ; I had a family of small
children, amongst whom I had constantly lived ; f
had a most anxious and devoted wife, who was, too,
in that state, which rendered the separation more
painful ten-fold. I was put into a place amongst fe-
lons, from which I had to rescue myself at the price
of twelve guineas a week for the whole of the two
years. The kin^, poor man ! was, at the close of
my imprisonment, not in a condition to receive the
thousand pounds; but his son, the present king,
punctually received it " in his name and behalf •'^
and he keeps it still.

169. The sentence, thougli it proved not to be one
of death, was, in effect, one of ruin, as far as then-
possessed property went. But this really appeared
as nothing, compared with the circumstance, that I
must now have a child horn in a felons'' jail, or be
absent from the scene at the time of the birth. My
wife, who had come to see me for the last time pre-
vitnis to her lying-in, perceiving my deep dejection
at the approach of her departure for Botley, resolv-
ed not to go ; and actually went and took a lodging
as near to Newgate as she could find one, in order
that the communication between us might be as
speedy as possible ; and in order that I might see
the doctor, and receive assurances from him relative
to her state. The nearest lodging that she could find
was in Skinner-street, at the corner of a street lead-
ing to Smithfield. So that there she was, amidst the

was

and

ling

baub

about

pleas

dears

thep

thee

[Letter

died the
in such
The At-
! ; he ha-
lt me to
jC Blanc,
nmmt in
thousand
len years
\ Every
I lived in
London ;
of small
' lived; I
was, too,
ion more
nongst/e-
i the price
)f the two
e close of
eceive the
sent king,
I behalf;''

t to be one
ir as then-
appeared
nee, that I
a?7, or be
)lrth. My
t time pre-
dejection
ey, resolv-
: a lodging
e, in order
ight be as
might see
im relative
3 could find
street lead-
amidst the

iv.J

TO A HUSBAND.

133

I . '

incessant rattle of coaches and butchers' carts, and
the noise of cattle, dogs, and bawling men ; instead
of being in a quiet and commodious country-house,
with neighbours and servants and every thing ne-
cessary about her. Yet, so great is the power of the
mind in such cases, she, though the circumstances
proved uncommonly perilous, and were attended
with the loss of the child, bore her sufferings with
the greatest composure, because, at any minute she
could send a message to, and hear from, itie. If she
had gone to Botley, leaving me in that state of anxi-
ety in which she saw me, I am satisfied that she
would have died ; and that event taking place at such
a distance from me, how was I to contemplate her
corpse, surrounded by her distracted children, and to
have escaped death, or madness, myself? If such
was not the effect of this merciless act of the go-
vernment towards me, that amiable body -may be
well assured that I have taken and recorded the will
for the deed, and that as such it will live in my me-
mory as long as that memory shall last.

170. I make no apology for this account of my
own conduct, because example is better than pre-
cept, and because I believe that my example may
have weight with many thousands, as it has had in
respect to early rising, abstinence, sobriety, industry,
and mercy towards the poor. It is not, then, dang-
ling about after a wife ; it is not the loading her with
baubles and trinkets ; it is not the jaunting of her
about from show to show, and from what is called
pleasure to pleasure. It is none of these that en-
dears you to her : it is the adherence to that part of
the promise you have made her : " With my body I
thee worship ;" that is to say, respect and honour by
personal attention and acts of affection. And re-
member, that the greatest possible proof that you
can give of real and solid affection is to give her
your time, when not wanted hi matters of business ;
when not wanted for the discharge of some duty,
either towards the public or towards private persons.
Amongst duties of this sort, we must, of course, in

:; I

I i-^i

^vi'

^\\

! i

' H

''1; • M,

134

cobbett's advice

[Letter

U. ^M

I !

II!

some ranks and circumstances of lifb, include the
intercourse amongst friends and neighbours, which
may frequently and reasonably call the husband
from his home : but what are we to think of the
husband who is in the habit of leaving his own fire-
side, after the business of the day is over, and seek-
ing promiscuous companions in the ale or the coffee
house ? I am told that, in France, it is rare to meet
with a husband who does not spend every evening
of his life in what is called a cciffe ; that is to say, a
place for no other purpose than that of gossipping,
drinking and gaming. And it is with great sorrow
that I acknowledge that many English husbands in-
dulge too much in a similar habit. Drinking clubs,
smoking clubs, singing clubs, clubs of odd-fellows,
whist clubs, sotting clubs: these are inexcusable,
they are censurable, they are at once foolish and
wicked, even in single men; what must they be,
then, in husbands ; and how are they to answer, not
only to their wives, but to their children, for this
profligate abandonment of their homes; this breach
of their solemn vow made to the former, this evil
example to the latter 1

171. Innumerable are the miseries that spring
from this cause. The expense is, in the first place,
very considerable. I much question whether,
amongst tradesmen, a shilling a night pays the ave-
rage score ; and that, too, for that which is really
worth nothing at all, and cannot, even by possibility,
be attended with any one single advantage, however
small. Fifteen pounds a year thus thrown away,
would amount, in the course of a tradesman's life,
to a decent fortune for a child. Then there is the
Injury to health from these night adventures ; there
are the quarrels ; there is the vicious habit of loose
and filthy talk ; there are the slanders and the back-
bitings ; there are the admiration of contemptible
wit, and there the scoflings at all that is sober and
serious.

172. And does the husband who thus abandons
his wife and children imagine that she will not, in

'' ,i!

[Letter

lude the
s, which
husband
k of the
3WI1 fire-
md seek-
he coffee
B to meet
^ evening
to say, a
>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

■«

1 i'

t ■' :f

m'*'i

;

!il

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 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

\ ,

I['<J: -M

I:. . '^'

140

cobbett'3 advice

[Letter

she surrenders to him Tier person. Then, when we
consider the pains which they endure for us, and the
large share of all the anxious parental cares that
fall to their lot ; when we consider their devotion to
us, and how unshaken their affection remains in our
ailments, even though the most tedious and disgust-
ing; when we consider the offices that they per-
form, and cheerfully perform, for us, when, were
we left to one another, we should perish from neg-
lect ; when we consider their devotion to their child-
ren, how evidently they love them better, in nume-
rous instances, than their own lives ; when we
consider these things, how can a just, man think
any thing a trifle that affects their happiness ? I
was once going, in my gig, up the hill, in the vil-
lage of Frankford, near Philadelphia, when a little
girl, about two years old, who had toddled away
from a small house, was lying basking in the sun, in
the middle of the road. About two hundred yards
before I got to the child, the teams, five big horses
in each, of three wagons, the drivers of which had
stopped to drink at a tavern on the brow of the hill,
started off, and came, nearly abreast, galloping down
the road. I got my gig off the road as speedily as I
could ; but expected to see the poor child crushed to
pieces. A young man, a journeyman carpenter,
who was shingling a shed by the side of the road,
seeing the child, and seeing the danger, though a
stranger to the parents, jumped from the top of the
shed, ran into the road, and snatched up the child,
from scarcely an inch before the hoof of the leading
horse. The horse's leg knocked him down ; but he,
catching the child by its clothes, flung it back, out
of the way of the other horses, and saved himself by
rolling back with surprising agility. The mother
of the child, who had apparently, been washing,
seeing the teams coming, and seeing the situation
of the child, rushed out, and catching up the child,
just as the carpenter had flung it back, and hugging
it in her arms, uttered a shriek such as I never heard
before, never heard since, and, I hope, shall never

ren.

ins in our

len, were

IV.]

TO A HUSBAND.

141

. n..

. M

hear again ; and then she dropped down, as if per*
fectly dead ! By the application of the usual means,
she was restored, however, in a little while ; and I,
being about to depart, asked the carpenter if he were
a married man, and whether he were a relation of
the parents of the "hild. He said he was neither :
" Well, then," said I, " you merit the gratitude of
" every father and mother in the world, and I will
" show mine, by giving you what I have," pulling
out the nine or ten dollars that I had in my pocket.
" No J I thank you. Sir," said he : " I have only
done what it was my duty to do."

179. Bravery, disinterestedness, and maternal af-
fection surpassing these, it is impossible to imagine.
The mother was going right in amongst the feet of
these powerful and wild horses, and amongst the
wheels of the wagons. She had no thought for her-
self; no feeling of fear for her own life ; her shriek
was the sound of inexpressible joy ; joy too great
for her to support herself under. Perhaps ninety-
nine mothers out of every hundred would have acted
the same part, under similar circumstances. There
are, comparatively, very few women not replete
with maternal love ; and, by-the-by, take you care,
if you meet with a girl who " is not fond of child-
renj'^ not to marry her by any means. Some few
there arc who even make a boast that they " cannot
bear children," that is, cannot endure them. I never
knew a man that was good for much who had a dis-
like to little children ; and I never knew a woman
of that taste who was good for any thing at all. I
have seen a few such in the course of my life, and I
have never wished to see one of them a second time.
V 180. Being fond of little children argues no effe-
minacy in a man, but, as far as my observation has
gone, the contrary. A regiment of soldiers pre-
sents no bad school wherein to study character.
Soldiers have leisure, too, to play with children,
as well as with " women and dogs," for which the pro-
verb has made them famed. And I have never obser-
ved that effeminacy was at all the marked compan-

■«

■ !•■■«»

..i

'^ !.:<;

il . i

/ ■ .. 'I

. ii:

142

cobbett's advice

LLetter

ion of fondness for little children. Tills fondness
manifestly arises from a compassionate feeling to-
wards creatures that are helpless, and that must be
innocent. For my own part, how many days, how
many months, all put together, have 1 spent with
babies in my arms ! My time, when at home, and
"when babies were going on, was chiefly divided be-
tween the pen and the baby. I have fed them and
put them to sleep hundreds of times, though there
were servants to whom the task might have been
transferred. Yet, I have not been effeminate; I
have not been idle ; I have not been a waster of
time ; but I should have been all these if I had dis-
liked babies, and had liked the porter pot and the
grog glass.

181. It is an old saying, " Praise the child, and
you make love to the mother ;" and it is surprising
how far this will go. To a fond mother you can do
nothing so pleasing as to praise the baby, and, the
younger it is, the more she values the compliment.
Say fine things to her, and take no notice of her ba-
by, and she will despise you. I have often beheld
this, in many women, with gi'eat admiration ; and
it is a thing that no husband ought to overlook ; for
if the wife wish her child to be admired by others,
what must be the ardour of her wishes with regard
to his admiration. There was a drunken dog of a
Norfolk man in our regiment, who came from Thet-
ford, I recollect, who used to say, that his wife would
forgive him for spending all the pay, and the wash-
ing money into the bargain, " if he would but kiss
her ugly brat and say it was pretty." Now, though
this was a very profligate fellow, helrndphilosoj^y
in him ; and certain it is, that there is nothing wor-
thy of the name of conjugal happiness, unless the
husband clearly evince that he is fond of his
children, and that, too, from their very birth.

182. But though all the aforementioned cc:iside-
rations demand from us the kindest possible treat-
ment of a wife, the husband is to expect dutiful de-
portment at her hands. He is not to be her slave;

ing,

tLetter I IV.]

TO A HUSBAND.

143

■< '

I Ibndness
feeling to- ,
it must be
days, how
ipent with
home, and
livided be-
l them and
:)ugh there
have been
iminate; I
, waster of
: I had dis-
lOt and the

child, and
3 surprising
you can do
jy, and, the
;ompliment.
e of her ba-
>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

]U :

! ' ;. i^

' t:

'' m

■'•'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

• 1

;:?

,t !„1

'^4

■■\

146

cobbett's advick

[Lettej

I,, !

r i'

' ''^IB

^-^it il||||:':ii?,.r

: 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

'4%

■ i. i-

148

COBBETT'S ADVICE

[Letter

!'' '!

. til

I I,

III

-.JflllilHiill'i!
'■'\ ']

■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

[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

lit

:-i

::;;i

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

to me, in a

IV.]

TO A HUSBAND.

151

■£>:*

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*

1 ■!;: ■

1l,

an-

1;' 1^ ' •

: 1 .:

i:-ji ■;.

I I

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

■.\-r~\ \:

.it:

W i;

■'■i

t n

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

: ■ : 1

1 '

,'.'

•i ''

'if

4 ,

:tj:

I'^l:

•%4: m A"

«^

rP'

ii-'*i- iii

H ' i

! I

li.illl.

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

• ft

• ■ f

1,4,

■\¥

158

cobbett's advice

[Letter

ijii

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-

• 1

I'-)

f ■

■■<
! '

\ '

Pi
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,

fit

■■'S

! , ' *

:f.:

1 ' ■''

!|:;r

hv'

■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

ir^-

r :

''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 ■ t

i>.:^^i

!■ I

:| .

^ :i:^,i'i

i/'v;

P' ■-- j

:!!<;'.>:: 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.

; -i-

i i

il'lt

' !

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

,11"
,....1 ,

'V*HS>'

1%/

Si,

' i,

' ' 1

1 .' .

' r

".5 ^i

MH:

^■i-'^'.

V'-

ill

■ 1 i

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

[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

i'.i

'I'

I':

'(It] i

i! i

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

[Letter I V.]

^ TO A FATHER.

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'

.■ m i . 1 ,

n\im''m

■ ■ 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'

■'I

u .<■

■|ir:,i

nii-Hi:iif,::!

., 'i lilt

' |:„

U:l

' .! t, i

f I ' 'i,'

fM'

1, !■<•;, I ' ■

M in

I , I

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.

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^^'

* ^ \

:/ 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

'1^

r.:|*

fty-

'''■' '41' ij!

1 ,«.,

m. -^iMiijii

: 1

,!' i

' i

• ' ,'1

i ,

■

li i.

I y ■ ' 1(1'

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.

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

■ '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 *]'

(■•■,. :

! i|i

1 . "■■ '

fli

1 iMI

lj:'M

ill

i-Mi'

'19!

^'IraH

IP 1 i i

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*

^ *■■■■£'

"i.., i

■A

t ,'

;: ' '

a -i^

#■

,;r..l

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

C
^

y..

r/>

1.0

1.1

11.25

128

■ 22

I!f 144 ■"
2.0

U 11.6

fljotogreqiiic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WIST MAIN STRHT

VtfllSTIR.N.Y. UStO

(716) •73-4503

.«

■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

H^'^i^N '^

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 ' •■: ■ .

Hlir

■ ■■ ■ 1 ■

Br-it

i; :;;

yHB)^ 'ii''i .In-t^ if i ': 1 i

Hl'';:':^;,!

,: 1

' ^ 1
1

L '

I'i

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

-lUr..

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,

<<his sweet smd enwrapped in the celestial sounds of
music;" and this was just at the time when the fero-
cious tyrant was ordering Catholics and Protestants
to be tied back to back on the same hurdle, dragged
to Smithfield on that hurdle, and there tied to, and
burnt from, the same stake. Shakspeaire must have
known these things, for he lived immediately after
their date ; and if he had lived in our day, he would
have seen instances enough of " sweet souls" en-
wrapped in the same manner, and capable, if not of
deeds equally bloody, of others, discovering a total
want of feeling for sufferings not unfrequentiy occa-
sioned by their own wanton waste, and waste aris-
ing, too, in part, from their taste for these " celestial
sounds."

247. O no ! the heart of man is not to be known
by this test : a great fondness for music is a mark of
great weakness, great vacuity of mind : not of hard-
ness of heart; not of vice ; not of downright folly;
but of a want of capacity, or inclination, for sober
thought. This is not always the case: accidental
circumstances almost* force the taste upon people :
but, generally speaking, it is a preference of sound to
sense. But the man, and especially the father, who
Is not fond of babies; who does not feel his heart
softened when he touches their almost boneless limbs ;
when he sees their little eyes first begin to discern ;
when he hears their tender accents ; the man whose
heart does not beat truly to this test, is, to say the
best of him, an object of compassion.

248. But the mother's feelings are here to be
thought of too ; for, of all gratifications, the very
greatest that a mother can receive, is notice taken of,

i and praise bestowed on, her baby. The moment that
gets into her arms, every thing else diminishes in
I value, the father only excepted. Her cfwn personal
charms notwithstanding all that men say and have
written on the subject, become, at most, a secondary
object as soon as the baby arrives. A saying of the
old, profligate King of Prussia is frequently quoted
in proof of the truth of the maxim) that a woman

I ■

W-

* *

■ :t

186

COBBETT^S ADVICB

[Letter

•':ii>

•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'-,

It'

) 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

)

):.

■ f

1^1

>,■

:!'

,^1

li.l

■• .1)

'••!'i.'i^

'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-

Mi:ii|

?:•

y'k

Jr'.

11- V

■ l;. ■ I
' ■ 1, (

I- r. .S /

i-S

••*: !

■iiii!/'

\<\.

|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

[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

,<'

'l»ll

•.:;l^

lii'lH!

\\:\

> 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

v.]

TO A FATHER.

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

'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

:<!

\- I

ili:!

ii;!i.

200

cobbett's advice

[Letter

;.';^'!, :;::.

ii'il^JL

i 'h

tjow-poxedby JENNER HIMSELF, have taken the
real small pox afterwards, and have either died from
the disorder, or narrowly escaped with their lives !
I will mention two instances, the parties concerned
being living and well-known, one of them to the
whole nation, and the other to a very numerous cir-
cle in the higher walks of life. The first is Sir
Richard Phillips, so well known by his able wri-
tings, and equally well known by his exemplary
conduct as Sheriff of London, and by his life-long
labours in the cause of real charity and humanity.
Sir Richard had, I think, two sons, whose veins
were impregnated by the grantee himself. At any
rate he had one, who had, several years after Jenner
had given him the insuring matter, a very hard
struggle for his life, under the hands of the good,
old-fashioned, seam-giving, and dimple-dipping small
pox. The second is Philip Codd, Esq., formerly of
Kensington, and now of Rumsted Court, near Maid-
stone, in Kent, who had a son that had a very nar-
row escape under the real small-pox, about four
years ago, and who also had been cow-poxed by Jen-
ner himself. The last-mentioned gentleman I have
known, and most sincerely respected, from the time
of our both being -about eighteen years of age. When
the young gentleman, of whom I am now speaking,
was very young, I having him upon my knee one
day, asked his kind and excellent mother, whether
he had been inoculated. " Oh, no !" said she, " we
are going to have him vaccinated?'* Whereupon I,
going into the garden to the father, said, " I do hope,
Codd, that you are not going to have that beastly
cow-stuff put into that fine boy." " Why," said he,
"you see, Cobbett, it is to be done by Jenner him-
selp^ What answer I gave, what names and epi-
hets I bestowed upon Jenner and his quackery, 1
will leave the reader to imagine.

264. Now, here are instances enough; but, every
reader has heard of, if not seen, scores of others.
Young Mr. Codd caught the small-pox at a school;
and if I recollect rightly, there were several other

[Letter I V.J

TO A PAtHEIU

201

^e taken the
er died from
their lives I
!S concerned
ihem to the
iimerous cir-
first is Sir
tiis able wri-
3 exemplary
his life-long
id humanity,
whose veins
self. At any
3 after Jenner
a very hard
J of the good,
dipping small
., formerly of
rt, near Maid-
id a very nar-
i, about four
poxed hy Jen-
tleman I have
from the time
of age. When
low speaking,
my knee one
►ther, whether
said she, "we
Whereupon I,
1, "I do hope,
ire that beastly
Vhy," said he,
y Jenner him-
imes andepi-
lis quackery, 1

Th; but, every
>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

■ .'

u:h':^

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
fiii;

lii

M: A

hV'y

■'-*'iii

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,

[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'

l^:;:l^f

1 'I
I

. ..(
1

■I is
1^

i^ f

if • '«!

•r-;

41,: f''""

ill ^^1

206

•»«

COBBETT's ADVICB

iLettcr

bo
tic

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.

*»

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

\\\

1'^

!'■ "

^^^^^^Bi'''l

m»'\

' <

HH^'i

■ ' i

^^H^JhW '

# '

f i

■H^- :•,, Ti

( '■ ■•

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'

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

ryu

,::1

Wmi li

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

■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,

\,r^M

MpM.

fe;'..,!'- •

•:■ m

:^-'^' m<

. ' » ■ :( i ■ ,1!

216

•^

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

v!i

'r
• J'

!•

' ': 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

4 y '

■k

1 v..

f !;!'i

'¥ .

'•ii

ai|,.:

¥^'-

■ !' ■ '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,

i,;

U;H

i M

I ;v I

222

OOBBETT'a ADVICB

! 1

i ..: ■ i

!■ ■ f

1.1 ■<

:i 'j-l

.•• ^

S»;^

it '

f "■

■/■■i

'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

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

' r;i|
\

) !.■

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',

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,

I.' .i

■ "ii

P^'l-'r' I'-
ll: m. I ::^ |; ;

;■ Ji

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'

.f'.'ll

'%:

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

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.

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

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!:

[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.

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

238

cobbett's advice

[Letter

I'll ''*u

I-

:«!',

< 1 '

■ y< -

I ji

fH: ■

■;l.

i 1 '^

\ *7!

lll

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

]

if'

r I

I -Ms

I'- -rif 'i ■

■)yk

fi r '» S'-i"
■ -I i ■)

:f:

'dy J

I" I
i' )

■■'•' !

It : I

'1 ■ i

%-.H

11 \

,11 ,:.

ar):^

I , ■ 1', ,, ■ 1

i m

I KA,

i«:ttl^

t.'!!

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

■■<.■'.

'•i

ir.

!■ V"

243

COBBElVs ADVICE

L Letter

F-l

I, i::e

iii^,'- !':

1 (;

11 '1:';.' , :i !■■"■•;

I 'ill '
(I

- i ■■

mmi>U'

\ '■

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-

th
all
so
Y(

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;

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

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*

■

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

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

[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

Ml'

"\\

■r

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-

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

^!.'^

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**

-.1

i li

-■*s^-

254

COBBETT'S ADVICE

[Letter

«r i

m,wmMm'

i-f

^Bm''

;';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
<luestions were put, the answer is very difficult to be
imagined.

339. In cases of civil commotion the matter comes
Ptill more home to us. On what ground is the rich
man to call the artisan from his shop or the labourer
from the field to join the sheriff's posse or the mi-
litia, if he refuse to the labourer and artisan the right
of sliaring in the making of the laws ? Why are
they to risk their lives here ? To uphold the laws,
and to protect property. What ! laws, in the mak-
ing of, or assenting to, which they have been allow-
ed to have no share ? Prrperty, of which they are
said to possess none ? What ! compel men to come
forth and risk their lives for the protection of proper-
ty ; and then, in the same breath, tell them, that thry
are not allowed to share in the making of the laws,
because, and ONLY BECAUSE, thq/ have r?o pro-
perty ! Not because they have committed any crime ;
not because they are idle or profligate; not because
they are vicious in any way ; but solely because they
have iw property ; and yet, at the same time, compel
them to come forth and risk their lives for the pro-
'iection f)f property f

'•!

,. . . 1,

I ' Si

r3.'^' V

I ■ ':

'■ i

v' i' I ■ ■

! i, ;!})■■ '

lir' „

i'\'.;

IS ,.,

■I

ii;

256

COEBETr's ADVICE

[Letter

340. But, the paupers? Ought thep to share in the
making of the laws ? And why not ? What is a
pauper ; what is one of the men to whom this de-
grading appellation is applied 7 A xei^y poor man ;
a man who is, from some cause or other, unable to
supply himBelf with food and raiment without aid
from the parish-rates. And, is that circumstance
alone to deprive him of his right, a right of which
he stands more in need than any other man ? Per-
haps he has, for many years of his life, contributed
directly to those rates ; and ten thousand to one lie
has, by his labour, contributed to them indirectly.
The aid which, under such circumstances, he receives,
is his right j he receives it not as an alms : he is no
mendicant ; he begs not ; he comes to receive that
which the law of the country awards him in lieu of
the larffer portion assigned him by the law of Na-
ture, Pray mark that, and let it be deeply engraven
on your memory. The audacious and merciless
Malthus (a parson of the church establishment)
recommended, some years ago, the passing of a law
to put an end to the giving of parish relief though
he recommended no law to put an end to the enor-
mous taxes paid by poor people. In his book he said,
that the poor should be left to the law ofNature,
which, in case of their having nothing to buy food
with, doomed them to starve. They would ask no-
thing better than to be left to the law of Nature ; that
law which knows nothing about buying food or any
thing else ; that law which bids the hungry and the na-
ked take food and raiment wherever they find it best
and nearest at hand ; that law which awards all pos-
sessions to the strongest; that law the operations of
which would clear out the London meat-markets
and the drapers' and jewellers' shops in about half
an hour ; to this law the parson wished the parlia-
ment to leave the poorest of the working people;
but, if the parliament had done it, it would have been
quickly seen, that this law was far from " dooming
them to be starved."

34L Trusting that it is unnecessary for me to ex-

[Letter

3 share in the
? What is a
i^hom thi8 de-
ry poor man •,
tier, unable to
it without aid
circumstance
ight of which
r man ? Per-
e, contributed
jand to one lie
lem indirectly.
es, he receives,
alms : he is no
;o receive that
Jiim in lieu oi
the lawofNa-
eeply engraven
and merciless
establishment)
assing of a law
I relief, though
nd to the enor-
lis book he said,
i law of Nature^
ing to buy food
T would ask no-
of Nature; that
ing food or any
ngryandthena-
they find it best
I awards all pos-
Lhe operations of
n meat-markets^
ips in about half
shed theparlia-
<rorking people;
would nave been
from "dooming

ary for me to ex-

VI.1

TO A CITIZEN.

257

press a hope, that barbarous thoughts like those of
Malthus and his tribe will never be entertained by
any young man who has read the previous Numbers
of this work, let me return to my very, very poor
i?ian, and ask, whether it be consistent with justice,
with humanity, with reason, to deprive a man of the
most precious of his political rights, because, and
only because, he has been, in a pecuniary way, sin-
gularly unfortunate? The Scripture says, "De-
spise not the poor, because he is poor ;" that is to
say, despise him not on account of his poverty. Why,
then, deprive him of his right ; why put him out of
the pale of the ,law,1on account of his poverty?
There are some men, to be sure, who are reduced to
poverty by their vices, by idleness, by gaming, by
drinking, by squandering; but, the far greater part
by bodily ailments, by misfortunes to the effects of
which all men may, without any fault, and even
without any folly, be exposed: and, is there a man
on earth so cruelly unjust as to wish to add to the
sufferings of such persons by stripping them of their
political rights 1 How many thousands of indus-
trious and virtuous men have, within these few years,
been brought down from a state of competence to
that of pauperism ! And, is it just to strip such men
of their rights, merely because they are thus brought
down ? When I was at Ely, last spring, there were,
in that neighbourhood, three paupers cracking stones
on the roads, who had all three been, not only rate-
payers, but overseers of the poor , within seven years
of the day when I was there. Is there any man so
barbarous as to say, that these men ought, merely
on account of their misfortunes, to be deprived of
their political rights ? Their right to receive relief
is as perfect as any right of property ; and, would
you, merely because they claim this right, strip
theni of another right ? To say no more of the in-
justice and the cruelty, is there reason, is there com-
mon sense in this ? What ! if a farmer or tradesman
be, by flood or by fire, so totally ruined as to be
compelled, surrounded by his family, to resort tp

2'r

. ! 1

'i^

258

COBBETT'9 ADVICE

[Letter

Si M

'i>!i

\\\>

Lte li:

k'il

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:\,

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

■«

262

oobbett's advice

[Letter

*'■ i

I If

.•■ii(

ill. !.

Sfl

fi '

■ju,;-;, .

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 <aa7es pressing the industrious and
laborious to the earth ; severe laws and standing
armies to compel the people to submit to those tax-
es ; wealth, luxury, and splendour, amongst those
who make the laws and receive the taxes ; poverty,
misery, immorality and crime, amongst those who
bear the burdens ; and at last commotion, revolt, re-
venge, and rivers of blood. Such have always been,
and such must always be, the consequences of a
want of this right of all men to share in the ma-
king of the laws, a right, as I have before shown,
derived Immediately from the law of Nature, spring-

[Letter I VI.J

TO A CITIZ£N.

263

Te a fanciful
theory ; if it
any of these
3 of little im-
; is a practical
it must of ne-
^es under that
jpkeepers m a
in the neigh-
whenever they
hey pleased of
)ply it to what
3 shopkeepers

this be more
ive no voice in
m? Who lets
)urse when he
help himself,

to the will of
md must it not
y be at the ab-
3 certain ? And
igst individuals
st be the cpsc

s that it always
inevitable con-
3peoplehave, in
industrious and
? and standing
[lit to those tax-
amongst those
taxes ; poverty,
ngst those who
ation, revolt, ve-
ve always been,
isequences of a
lare in the ma-
before shown,
• Nature, spring-

ing up out of the same source with civil society, and
cherished in the heart of man by reason and by ex-
perience.

349. Well, then^ this right being that, without the
enjoyment of which there is, in reality, no right at
all, how manifestly is it the first duty of every man
to do all in his power to maintain this right where
it exists, and to restore it where it has been lost ?
For observe, it must at one time, have existed in
every civil community, it being impossible that it
could ever be excluded by any social compact ; ab-
solutely impossible, because it is contrary to the law
of self-preservation to believe, that men would agree
to give up the rights of nature without stipulating
for some benefit. Before we can affect to believe that
this right was not reserved, in such compact, as com-
pletely as the right to live was reserved, we must af-
fect to believe, that millions of men, under no con-
trol but that of their own passions and desires,
and having all the earth and its products at the com-
mand of their strength and skill, consented to be
for ever, they and their posterity, the slaves of a
few.

350. We cannot believe this, and therefore, with-
out going back into history and precedents^ we must
believe, that, in whatever civil community this right
does not exist, it has been lost, or rather, unjustly
taken way. And then, having seen the terrible evils
which always have arisen, and always must arise,
from the want of it ; being convinced that, where
lost or taken away by force or fraud, it is our very
first duty to do all in our power to restore it, the
next consideration is, how one ought to act in the
discharge of this most sacred duty ; for sacred it is
even as the duties of husband and father. For, be-
sides the baseness of the thought of quietly submit-
ting to be a sloYe ojieself, we have here, besides our
duty to the community, a duty to perform towards
our children and our children's chil(5ren. We all
acknowledge that it is our boundcu duty to provide,

./v

264

cobbett's advicb

[Letter

;^' I '

'■■Ml

as far as our power will go, for the competence, the
health, and the ^ood character of our children ; but,
is this duty superior to that of which I am now speak-
ing ? What is competence, what is health, if the
possessor be a slave, and hold his possessions at the
will of another, or others ; as he must do if desti-
tute of the right to a share in the making of the
laws ? What is competence, what is health, if both
can, at any moment, be snatched away by the grasp
or the dungeon of a master ; and his master he is
who makes the laws without his participation or as-
sent ? And, as to character, as Xo fair fame, when the
white slave puts forward pretensions to those, let
him no longer affect to coi-;miserate the state of his
sleek and fat brethren in Barbadoes and Jamaica ;
let him hasten to mix the hair with the wool, to
blend the white with the black, and to lose the
memory of his origin amidst a dingy generation.

351. Such, then, being the nature of the duty,
horw are we to go to work in the performance of it,
and what are our means 7 With regard to these, so
various are the circumstances, so endless the differ-
ences in the states of society, and so many are the
cases when it would be madness to attempt that
which it would be prudence to attempt in others,
that no general rule can be given beyond this ; that,
the right and the duty being clear to our minds, the
means that are surest and swiftest are the best. In
every such case, however, the great and predominant
desire ought to be not to employ any means beyond
those of reason and persuasion, as long as the employ-
ment of these afford a ground for rational expec*f tion
of success. Men are, in such a case, labouring, not for
the present davonly, but forages to come ; and there-
fore they should not slacken in their exertions, because
the grave may close upon them before the day of
final triumph arrive. Amongst the virtues of the
good Citizen are those of fortitude and patience ;
and, when he has to carry on his struggle against
corruptions deep and widely-rooted, he is not to

I if

VI.]

TO A CITIZEN.

205

expect the baleful tree to come down at a single
blow; he must patiently remove the earth that
props and feeds it, and sever the accursed roots one
by one.

352. Impatience here is a very bad sign. I do not
like your patriots, who, because the tree does not
give way at once, fall to blaming all about them,
accuse their feilow-suiferers of cowardice, because
they do not do that which they themselves dare
not think of doing. Such conduct argues choffrin
and disappointment ; and these argue a selfish feeling t
they argue, that* there has been more of private am-
bition and gain at work than o^ public good. Such
blamers, such general accusers, are always to be sus-
pected. What does the real patriot want more than
to feel conscious that he has done his duty towards
his country ; and that, if life should not allow him
time to see his endeavours crowned with success,
his children will see it ? The impatient patriots are
like the young men (mentioned in the beautiful fa-
ble of La Fontaine) who ridiculed the man of
fourscore, who was planting an avenue of very small
trees, which, they told him that he never could ex-
pect to see as high as his head. " Well," said he,
" and, what of that ? If their shade afford me no
"pleasure, it may afford pleasure to my children,
" and even to you ; and, therefore, the planting of
*' them gives me pleasure."

353. It is the want of the noble disinterestedness,
so beautifully expressed in this fable, that pnv^uces
the impatient patriots. They wish very well to
their country, because they want some of the good
for themselves. Very natural that all men should
wish to see the good arrive, and wish to share in it
too ; but, we must look on the dark side of nature
to find the disposition to cast blame on the whole
community because our wishes are not instantly ac-
complished, and especially to cast blame on others
for not doing that which we ourselves dare not at-
tempt. There is, however, a sort of patriot a great

w- \ ]

266

OOBBBTT^S ADTIOB

[Letter

11 ■( ■! .

-' Hi

.'i

deal worse than this j he} who harlng failed himself,
would see his country ensUv*. 3 tor ever, rather than
see its deliverance achieved ir/ oUiet^ His failure
has, perhaps, arisen solely from his want of talent,
or discretion : yet his selfish lieart would wish his
country sunk in everlasting degradation, lest his
inefficiency for the task should be established by the
success of others. A very hateful character, certain-
ly, but, I am sorry to say, by no means rare. Envy^
always associated with meanness of soul, always
detestable, is never so detestable as when it shows
itself here.

354. Be it your care, my young friend (and I ten-
der you this, as my parting advice,) if you find this
base and baleful passion, which the poet calls " the
eldest born of hell ;" if you find it creeping into
your heart, be it your care to banish it at once and
for ever ; for, if once it nestle there, farewell to all
the good which nature has enabled you to do, and to
your peace into the bargain. It has pleased God to
make an unequal distribution of talent, of industry,
of perseverance, of a capacity to labour, of all the
qualities that give men distinction. We have not
been our own makers : it is no fault in you that na-
ture has placed him above you, and surely, it is no
fault in him ; and would you puniith him on ac-
count, and only on account, of his pre-eminence !
If you have read this book you will startle with
horror at the thought : you will, as to public mat-
ters, act with zeal and with good humour, though the
place you occupy be far removed from the first ; you
will support with the best of your abilities others,
who, from whatever circumstance, may happen to
take the lead ; you will not suffer even the con-
sciousness and the certainty of your own superior
talents to urge you to do any thing which might by
possibility be injurious to your country's cause;
you will be forbearing under the aggressions of ig-
norance, conceit, arrogance, and even the blackest of
ingratitude superadded, if by resenting these you

[Letter

failed himself,
er, rather than
His failure
(rant of talent,
vould wish his
eition, lest his
iblished by the
racter, certain-
s rare. Envy^
r soul, always
when it shows

end (and I ten-
f you find this
E)oet calls " the

creeping into
i it at once and
farewell to all
3u to do, and to
pleased God to
nt, of industry,
hour, of all the

We have not
in you that na<
surely, it is no
ah him on ac-
pre-eminence !
ill startle with
} to public mat-
lour, though the
ai the first ; you
abilities others,
may happen to
even the con-
ir own superior
vhich might by
)untry's cause;
gressions of ig-
n the blackest of
Lting these you

VI.]

TO A CITIZBN.

267

endanger the general good ; and, aboYe all things,
you will have the justice to bear in mind, that that
country which gave you birth, is, to the last hour of
your capability ,entitled to your exertions in her behalf,
and that you ought not, by acts of commission or of
omission, to visit upon her the wrongs which may
have been inflicted on you by the envy and malice
of individuals. Love of one's native soil is a feeling
which nature has implanted in the human breast,
and 'that has always been peculiarl)r strong in the
breasts of Englishmen. God has given us a coun-
try of which to be i)roud, and that freedom, great-
ness and renown, which were handed down to us by
our wise and brave forefathers, bid us perish to the
last man, rather than suffer the land of their graves
to become a land of slavery, impotence and disho-
nour.

355. In the words with which I concluded my En-
glish Grammar, which I addressed to my son James,
I conclude my advice to you. " With English and
" French on your tongue and in your pen, you have
" a resource, not only greatly valuable in itself, but
" a resource that you can be deprived of by none*of
" those changes and chances which deprive men of
" pecuniary possessions, and which, in some cases,
" make the purse-proud man of yesterday a crawling
" sycophant to-day. Health, without which life is
" not worth having, you will hardly fail to secure
"by early rising, exercise, sobriety, and abstemious-
*' ness as to food. Happiness, or misery, is in the
" mind. It is the mind that lives ; and the length
" of life ought to be measured by the number and
" importance of our ideas, and not by the number
" of our days. Never, therefore, esteem men mere-
** ly on account of their riches or their station. Re-
" spect goodness, find it where you may. Honour
" talent wherever you behold it unassociated with
" vice ; but, honour it most when accompanied with
" exertion, and especially when exerted in the cause
" of truth and justice ; and, above all things, hold it

n ^

268 cobbett's advice to a citizen* [Letter VI.

** in honour, when it steps forward to protect defence-
"less innocence against the attacks of powerful
" guilt." These words, addressed to my own son,
I now, in taking my leave, address to you. Be just,
be industrious, be sober, and be happy ; and the
hope that these effects will, in some degree, have
been caused by this little work, will add to the hap-
piness of

Your friend and humble servant,

WILLIAM COBBETT.

KenBington, S5th Aug. 1830.

1 .-'il-

•I

'"0

*M-

'^■■«*

■ '''■'

. . y >.•"

.5*',

... *

■%:

». «'-• %

§■■

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.

*"^