> IMAGE EVALUATION TES? TARGET (MT-3) // ^/ Ps *' ^<^^ «* 1.0 £f>^ 1^ I.I m at Its lU u <- u liO ■ 2.0 \MUX%i^ .^. ^ ^^. 4 ^ ? // I^tographic Sdmces CorporaBon 33 WIST MAIN STMIT WIUTII.N.Y. t4SM (714) t73-4S03 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Instituta for Hiatorical Microraproductions / Inatitut Canadian da microraproductiona t ichnical and Bibliographic Notas/Notas tauhniqua* at bibliogriphiquM nptad to obtain tha bast I for filming. Faaturas of this bliographically uniqua, )f tha imagas in tha h may significantly changa Iming. ara chackad balow. f >ulaur immagAa and/oT iaminatad/ lurta at/ou palliculAa ng/ trtura manqua iquas an coulaur I. othar than blua or black)/ r (i.a. autra qua blaua ou noira) and/or illustrations/ llustratlons •n coulaur ir matarial/ ras documants ■y causa shadows or distortion argin/ paut causar da I'ombra ou da la B da la marga intAriaura dad during rastoration may la taxt. Whanavar possibla. thasa (ad from filming/ irtainas pagas blanchas aJoutAas iration apparaissant dans la taxta. )la Atait possibla. cas pagas n'ont L'Institut • miorofilm* la mtillaur •xamplalra qu'il lui a AtA poitibit dt •• proourtr. Las dAtails da eat axtmplair* qui sont p«ut*Atra uniquas du point da VU0 bibliographlqu*. qui pauvant modifier una imaga raproduita, ou qui pauvant axigar una modification dans la mAthoda normaia da filmage sont indiquAs chdatsoua. D n D Q D D Coiourad pagas/ Pagaa da eoulaur Pagas damagad/ Pagas andommagAas Pagas rastorad and/or Iaminatad/ Pagas rastaurAas at/ou pallieulAas Pagas diseolourad, italnad or foxad/ Pagas dAoolorAaa, fnohatAas ou piquAas Pagas dataehad/ Pagaa dAtaohAas Showthrough/ Transparanoa Quality of print varlat/ QuaiitA inAgala da I'lmprasslon Ineiudas lupplamantary matarial/ Comprand du matArial iupplAmantnira Only adition avallabia/ Saula Adition diaponlbia Pagas wholly or partially obscurad by arrata slips, tissuas, ato., hava baan rafllmad to ansura tha bast possibla Imaga/ Las pagas totalamant ou partiallamant obsoureias par un faulllat d'arrata, una palure, ate, ont AtA filmAas A nouvaau da fa^on A obtanir la malllaura Imaga possibla. nants:/ lupplAmantairas: PagM trs wrinklsd and may film iliehtly out of fesui. tha raduction ratio chackad balow/ A au taux da rAduction indiquA ci-dassous. 4X 18X 22X NX 30X J 16X aox 24X MX 32X •■■»»<» ■i>x-r'JS\i'« Th« copy filmad hor* has b««n r«produc«d thitnk* to the gonorosity of: Ntw Bruiwwick MuMum Saint John L'oxomplairo filmA fut roproduit grico A la g4n4roaiti do: Nmv BranMvick MuMum Saint John Tho imagos appoaring horo aro tho bast quality poaaibio considaring tha condition and lagibillty off the original copy and in kaaping with tha ffilming contract spaciffications. Las imagaa suivantaa ont «t* raproduitaa avae la plus grand soin, compta tanu da la condKlon at da la nattat* da raxamplaira film*, at an conformi'^i avac las conditions du contrat da filmaga. Original copias in printad papar covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impras* sion, or the bacic cover when appropriate. All other originei 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 exemplairas orlglnaux dont la couvartura en papier est ImprimAe sont filmAs en commen^nt par la premier plat at en terminant solt par la dernlAre page qui comporta una empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, solt par la second plat, salon la cas. Tous les autrea exemplalrea orlglnaux sont f ilmte en commenpant par la premlAre page qui comporta una empreinte d'impreesion ou d'illustration at en terminant par la darnlAre 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 das symboles suh^ants apparaftra sur la dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, aaion le cas: le symbole -^ signifie "A 8UIVRE", le symbols ▼ signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposurs 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, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre filmAs i dee taux de rMuction diffirenta. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour ttre reproduit en un soul clichi, il est film* i partir de I'angle sup*rieur gauche, de gauche i droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammas suh^ants illustrent la mithoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ^x^ i» #. Xl^ lA f^.j 6r£. AcUA c-rrz—^-i ADVICE TO irOUNG MEN. "»>. • v EDWIN J. GALLOWAY iOOKSRLlER ^ 940$iKI(VIl.l.E ST.. ViMt«OUVfeft.fliA^ WORKS FOR SELF-INSTRUOTION. NBW AND CHEAP BSITIOXTB. • ^ ir I. ENGLISH SPELLING BOOK; yrlth PiogrenlTe BttUIIng LenoM, Fables, &C. 12mo, la., clotb. n. ENGLISH GRAMMAR; intended for Of UWidf SehooU, Md of Tooag Penons in generaL Foolscap 8nH Mi olotb. III. FRENCH GRAMMAR; or. Plain Imtrocttonf for the Learning of Fhinch. Foolscap Sro, 3& (ML, dotli. IV. EXERCISES TO THE SAME; with Kbt. Foolscap 8to, 9i., cloth. V. LATIN GRAMMAR. For the Use of English Boyfc Foolscap 8yo^ 2a., doth. VI. ADVICE TO TOUNG MEN, and (inddentally) to Yonng Women, In the Middle and Higher Ranks of Life. Foolscap 8to, 2», M., dotlk # I' ¥ ■# % aadof miog of lOlotb. »P8vo^ L,alotlii ,<»' 'i ■ 'V 1 "^ i^*^*'"'*^'''"'' '"" I'MiiiiW. l-iini..u.^. /«. It. ^M-p^/. :7'J^i *-«-»-t^ / y »»,«.'<>» ^. ;«''&♦l^- >^ ^ '?^* /■ ^J.i^'^sJSS*^, ^i^'f*! 4t ..V-J « .'«r^>-* Jg«Ui«, .,«Mfr ^MfJIkm i Sj^jC r..- tK / rO YO ^ KJ -wi ij «-|i>BKTAr.l,T) TO WOMEK "^JW RANKS OF LIFE; m -f-.* ^vi ''^^^-•• ■#,,A B;. i0SBAND. i.:* ;T. ^^- Wr^ ^TPANY, / \ 'n: \ ^h -St. ■^ %i^ aJltxH jm'4 f^' W c^ ^ ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN, kSD (IKOIDKXTAU.T) TO YOUNG WOMEN, IK TBB MIDDLE AND HIGHER RANKS OF LIFE: IN A 8EBIU OF IXTTBBfl ADDBIMI9 tO A TOUTH, A BACHELOR, A LOVEB, A HUSBAND, A FATHER, A CITIZEI7 OR A SUBJECT. BY WILLIAM COBBETT. %%k €bitx0». LONDON; GRIFFIN, BOHN, AND COMPANY, STATIONERS* HALI4 COURT. 1862. I .c V A INTRODUCTION. 1. It is the dnty, 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 thenn, they, unless they be pirates or barbarians as well as sulors, point out the spots for the placing of buoys and of lights, in order that othera may not be exposed to the danger wliidi they have so narrowly escaped. What man of common^tumanity, having, by good luck, missed being engulfed in ik quagmire or quicksand, vnil trithhold from his ndghbours 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 age, which mus|i naturally result firom such opinions and prindples ; 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 only forty years, have to repent ; nay, which of us has not to repent, or has not had to repent, that he did not, at an earlier age, possess a great stock of knowledge 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 ! 8. 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 VI INTRODUCTION. |r rdating, incidentally, to all these ; but, tlie main object is to furnish that sort of knovrledge 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 anything of my progress through life, will be disposed to question my fitness for the task. Talk of rocks and breakers and quagmires and quicksands, who has ever escaped from amidst so many p" I have I Thrown (by my own will, indeed) on the wide world at a very early age, not more than eleven or twelve years, without money to support, without friends to advise, and without book-learning to assist me ; passing a few years dependent solely on my own labour for my subsistence ; then becoming a common soldier, and leading a military life, chiefly in foreign parts, for eight years ; quitting that life after really, for me, high promotion, and with, for me, a large sum of money ; marry, ing 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 prom- inent part in all the important discussions of the interesting period from 1793 to 1799, during which there was, in that country, a continued struggle carried on between the English and the French parties; conducting myself, ia 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 ; returning to England in 1800, re- suming my labours here, suffering, during these twenty-nine years, two years of imprisonment, heavy fines, three years* self-banishment to the other side of the Atlantic, and a total breaking of fortune, so as to bo laft without a bed to lie on, and, during these twenty-nine years of troubles and punish- ments, writing and publishing, every week of my life, whether in exile or not, eleven weeks only excepted, a periodical paper, containing more or less of matter worthy '^K INTRODT. C3TI0N. vii of public attention ; -writing and publishing, during the Mine twenty-nine years, a " Qrammar'''' of the French and another of the English language, a work on the *' Economy of (he " 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 continued sale, and the last unquestionably the book of greatest circulation in the whole world, the Bible only excepted; having, during these same twenty-nine years of troubles and embarrassments; without number, introduced into England the manufacture of Straw-plat ; also several valuable trees ; having introduced, during the same twenty-nine years, the cq1> tivation of the Com>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 em> ployed less, on an average, than ten persons, in some capacity or other, exclusive of printers, bookbinders, and others, connected 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 accomplisbid all this, qualified to give Advice to Young Men, no man is qualified for that task. There may have been natural gcfiius: but genius alone, not all the genius in the world, could, without something more, have conducted mo through these perils. During those 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 press as my deadly enemy. Yet, at this moment, it will not be pre- tended that there is another man in the kingdom who has inthoduction. so many cordidl fHondii For as to the friends of ministers and the grcQt^ the fHondsbip ii towards the powers the influence ; it if, in faeti towards those taxes, of which so many thousands are gaping to get at a share. And, if wo could, through lo thiok a veil, come at the naked fact, we should find the Hubioription now going on in Dublin for the purpose of erecting a monument in that city, to com- memorate the good recently done, or alleged to be done, to Ireland, by the DUKB OF Wsllxkoton ; we should find that the subscribers have the taxes in view ; and that, if the monument shall actually be raised, it ought to have selfish- ness^ and not gratitude^ 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 friendship which is felt towards me is puro and disinterested ; it is not founded in any hope that the parties can have, that they can ever proflt from professing it ; it is founded on the gratitude which they entertain for the good that I have done 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 bo industry: there must be perseverance: there must be, before the eyes of the nation, proofs of extraordinary exer- tion : people must say to themselves, " )Vhat wise conduct " must there have been in the employing of the time of this " man ! How sober, how sparing in diet, how early a riser, << how little expensive be must have been 1" These are the things, and not genius, which have caused my labours to be so incessant and so suooessAil i and, though I do not affect to believe, that every young mnn, who shall read this work, will become able to perform labours of equal magnitude and importance, I do pretend, that every young man, who will attend to my advtee, will become able to perform a great deal more than men generally do perform, whatever may bo hi4 situation in life { and that ho wUlf too, perform it with mm INTRODUCTION'. IX greater ease and satisfaction than he would, without tho advice, be able to perfolrm the smaller portion. 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 labours. Some have thanked me for my " Grammars^'' some fc* my '* Cottage Economy ^^'' others for the " Woodlands " 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 before. 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 iu 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 English Grammar, or French, they had, in a short time, learned more from my books, on those subjects, than they had learned, in yeari, from their teachers. How many gentlemen have thanked me in the strongest terms, for my " Woodlands'*^ and " Gardener" observing (just as Lord Bacon had observed in his time) that they had before seen no books, on these subjects, that they could understand! But, I know not of anything that ever gave mo more satisfaction than I derived from the visit of a gentleman of fortune, whom I had never heard of befbre, and who, about four years ago, came to thank me in person for a complete reformation which Lad been worked in his son, by the reading of my two skrmons 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 w tiich I now propose to give : and in the living of which I shall divide my matter as follows: 1. Advice addressed to a Yourn ; 2. Advice addressed to a Bachelor; S. Advice addressed to a Lover; 4. To » Husband; 5. To a Father; C. To a Citizen or Sudjcct. 9. Some persons will smile, and others laugh outiight, at IKTRODUCnOK. the idea of ''Gobbett's ^ving advice for conducting tbe affurs of love." Yes, but I was once young, and surely I may say with the poet, I forget which of them, "Thonirh old I am, for ladles' love unfit, Tbe power of beauty I remember yet" I forget, indeed, the names of the ladies as completely, pretty nigh, as I do that of the poet ; but I remember their influence, and of this influence on the conduct and in the affairs 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 depends, and always must depend, on his taste and judgment in the character of a lover, this may well be con- sidered as the most important period of the whole term of his existence. 10. In my address to the Husband, I shall, of course, introduce advice relative to the important duties of masters and servants; duties of great importance, whether con- sidered as affecting families or as affecting the community. In my address to the Citizen or Subject, I shall consider all the reciprocal 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 calling, profession, and condition of life ; but, under the above-described heads, will be conveyed every species of advice of which I deem the utility to be unquestionable. 11. I hare thus fully described the nature of my little work, and, before I enter on the first letter, I venture to express a hope, that its good effects will be felt long after its author shall have ceased to exist. ADYICE xo YODNG MEN AND YOUNG WOMEN. LETTER I. ADVICE TO A YOUTH. 12. You are now arrived at that age which the law thinks sufficient to make an oath, taken by you, valid in a coui't of law. Let us suppose from fourteen to nearly twenty; and, reserving, for a future occasion, my remarks on your duty towards pai*ents, let me here oflfer you my advice as to the means likely to contri- bute 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 wo right to any earthly existence, without doing work of some sort or other, unless you have ample fortune whereon 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 exposed to the chance of being so kept. Start with this conviction thoroughly implanted on your mind. To wish to live on the 12 ADVICE TO A TOUTn. labour of others is, besides the folly of it, to con- template a fraud at the least, and, under certain circumstances, to meditate oppression and robbery. 14. I suppose you in the middle rank of life. Hap- piness ought to be your great object, and it is to be found only in independence. Turn yoi • back on Whitehall and on Somerset House ; leave the Customs and Excise to the feeble and low-minded ; look not for success to favour, to partiality, to friendship, or to what is called interest: write it on your heart, 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 sounding titles poorly disguise from the eyes of good sense the mor- tifications and the heartache of slaves. Answer me not by saying, that these situations "must be filled by somebodi/;** for, if I were to admit the truth of the proposition, which I do not, it would remain for you to show that they a'", 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 anything* except 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 daily 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 HAPPINESS ONLY FOUND IN INDEPENDENCE. 13 idleness;** but it is worse; for it is "idleness with da/oeryy* the latter being the just price of the former. Slaves frequently are well f^ and well clad; but slaves dare not apeak; they dare not be suspected to ^ink 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 thousand times his knowledge, they must feign a conviction of his superior understanding ; though knowing that it is they who, in fact, do all that he is paid for doing, it is destruction to them to seem cu if they thought any portion of the service belonged to them I 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. 16. And how comes it, then, that we see hale and even clever youths voluntarily bending their necks to this slavery; nay, pressing forward in eager rivalship to assume the yoke that ought to be insupportable? 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 scom- fully 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 iMppy, they become ihawy slaves. 14 ADYICE TO A YOUTH. 17. The great source of independence, the French exiness in a precept of three words, " Vivre de peu" which I have always very much admired. " To ^tsw f^Mm UUle** is the great security against slavery; and this precept extends to dress and other things besides food and drink. When Doctob Johnson wrote his Dictiouary, he put in the word pensioner thus:-— ''Pensioner — A slave of state." After this he himself became a pensioner! And thus, agreeably to his own definition, he lived and died " a slave of state I" What must this man of great genius, and of great industry, too, have felt at receiving this pension! Could ho be so callous as not to feel a pang upon seeing his own name placed before his o'ym degrading definition? And what could induce him to submit to this 7 His wants, his artificial wants, his habit of indulging in the plea- sures of the table ; his disregard of the precept " Vivre depett." This was the cause; and, be it observed, that indulgences of this sort, while they tend to make men poor, and expose them to commit mean acts, tend also to enfeeble the body, and more especially to cloud and to weaken the mind. 18. When this celebrated author wrote his Diction- ary, he had not been debased by luxurious enjoyments: the rich and powerful had not caressed him into a slave; his writings then bore the stamp of truth and indepen- dence: but, having been debased by luxury, he who had, while content with plain fare, been the stirenuouB advocate of the rights of the people, became a strenu- ous advocate for tdosation without representation; and, in a work under the title of " Taxation no TyramnyP EVIIfi OF EXPENSIVE HABITS. fid defended, and greatly assisted to produce, that tmjust and bloodj war which finally severed irom England that great country the United States of America, now the most powerful and dangerous rival that this king- dom ever had. The statue of Db. Jobsbos was the first that was put into St. Paxtl's Ohdsch ! 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 Ohuboh holding up to the veneration of posterity a man whose own writings, together with the records of the pension-list, prove him to have been " a dove o/skUe." 19. Endless are the instances of men of bright parts and high spirit having been, by degrees, rendered ;()owerless and despicable, by their imaginary wanta Seldom has there been a man with a fairer prospect of accomplishing great things, and of acquiring lasting re- nown, than Chablbs Fox : he had great talents of the most popular sort; the times were sii^^ularly &.vour- able to an exertion of them with success; a largo part of the nation admired him and were his pavtizans; 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 selfishness; deprived his country of aU tho 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* 16 ADVICE TO ▲ YOUTH. 20. Extravagance in dreas^ in the haunting of piay" JunueSf in horaea, in everything else, is to be avoided, and, in youths and young men, extravagance in dress parl^icularly. This sort of extravagance, this waste of money on the decoration of the body, arises solely from vanity, and from vanity of the most contemptible sort It arises from the 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 happen to see you will think nothing at all about you: those who are filled with the same vain notion as you ftre 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 surgeon or physi- cian should not dress like a carpenter; but there is no reason why a tradesman, a merchant's clerk, or clerk of any kind, or why a shopkeeper, or manufacturer, or even a merchant; no reason at all why any of these should dress in an expensive manner. It is a great mistake to suppose that they derive any advantage from exterior decoration. Men are estimated by other Tnen according to their capacity and willingness to be in some way or oth(.r useful; and though, with the foolish and vain part of toomen, fine clothes frequently do something yet the greater part of the sex are much too penetrating to draw theii* conclusions solely from the outside show of m # now TO DRESS PBOPEBLV. 17 man: they look deeper, and find other oriterions [hereby to judge. And, after all, if the fine clothes >tain you a wife, will they bring you, in that wife, /hi' lityi good aensef and that sort of attachment that ir' cely to be lasting 1 Natural beauty of person is quite lother thing : this always has, it always will end must rCf some weight even with men, and great weight Ith women. But this does not want to be set off by |:pensive clothes. Female eyes are, in such oases, ky sharp; they can ditoover beauty though half tdden by beard, and even by dirt, and surrounded by igs: and, take this as a secret worth half a fortune to )u, that women, however personally vain they may be lemselves, despise personal vanity in meri, 21. Let your dress be as cheap as may be without ^labbiwsss; think more about the colour of your shirt lan about the gloss or texture of your coat; be alwayi clean as your occupation will, without ineonvenienoe, srmit; but never, no, not for one moment, believe, lat any human being, with sense in his skull, will love ^r respect you on account of your fine or costly clothes. great misfortune of the present day is, that evexy one 3, in his own estimate, raised above Mi ncU ittUe qfti/h; »very one seems to think himself entitled, if not to title s md great estate, at least to live without work. This lischievous, this most destructive, way of thinking has, |indeed, been produced, like almost all other erUs, by [the Acts of our Septennial and Unreformed Parliament. That body, by its Acts, has caused an enormous debt I to be created, and, in consequence, a prodigious sum to be raised annually in taxes. It has caused, by these B 18 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. means, a race of loan-mongers and stock-jobbers to axise. These carry on a species of gaming, by which some make fortunes in a day, and others, in a day, become beggars. The imfortunate gamesters, like the purchasers 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, within these few years, seen many of these gamesters get for- tunes 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 " lionouf- ahle genUemmV* 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 l^e 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- jobb^, or gambler; and, in about two years, drove his eocuih-and'fom', had his town house and country house, and visited, and was visited by, peenra of the highest romki A fdloiO'tyoprentioe of this lucky gambler, though a tradesonan in 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 'Chango; l»it, alas ! at the end of a few months, instead of being in a ooadi-and-four, he was in the Gaz&Uel 22, This is one instance out of hundreds of thou- sands; not, indeed, exactly of the same description, but all iuising fiom the same copious source. The words apeeuicUe and specuUsHon have been substituted for EVaS OP GAMBLIirO. la gamble woid gombling. The Latefulness of the pursuit is thus taken awaj; and, while taxes to the amount of more than double the whole of the rental of the king- dom; while these cause such crowds of i<&ers, ever^r one of whom calls himself a gemJtlemom^ 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 this country, knowing themselves to be as gw6,y as leamedf and as wdlrhred as these gentlemen; who is to wonder that they think that they also ought to be considered as genUemeni Then, the late wa/r (also the work of the Septennial Parliament) has left us, amongst its many legacies, such swarms of iMed men and women; such swarms of " *Sw«" and their *^ Ladies ;"** men and women who, only the other day, w«re the fellow-apprentices, fellow-tradesmen*s or farmer's sons and daughters, or, indeed, the fellow-servants of those who are now in these several stat^ of life; the late Septennial IWliament war has left us such swarms of these, that it is no wonder tiiat the heads of young: people are turned, and that th^ are ashamed <^ that- state of life to ast thar part well in which ought to be> their ddight. 23. But, though the cause of the evil is in Acts of the Septennial Pasliament; though tiiis universal de~ sire in people to be liiought to be above tiieir station; though this arises from such acts; and, though it is no wonder that youi^ men: are thus turned from patient stud;yand labour; though tii^e things be undoubted, they form no reason why I should not warn you against becoming a victim to this national scourge. 20 ADVICH TO A YOUTH. For, in spite of every art made use of to avoid labour, the taxes will, after all, maintain only so nmny 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 caiTy 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 wo can get at some of the taxes, we fall under the sentence of Holy Writ, " He who will not work shall not ecU." Yet, so strong is the propensity to be thought *^ gentle- men;" so general is this desire amongst the youth of this formerly laborious and unassuming nation ; a nation famed for its pursuit of wealth through the channels of patience, punctuality, and integiity; a nation famed for its love of solid acquisitions and quali- ties, and its hatred of everything 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 protid! And what are the consequences? Such a youth re- mains or becomes a burden to his parents, of whom ho ought to be the comfort, if not the support Always aspiring to something higher than he can reach, his life is a life of disappointment and of shame. If marriage be/all him, it is a real affliction, involving others as well as himself. His lot is a thousand times worse than that of the common labouring pauper. Nineteen times out of twenty a premature death awaits him: and, alas! how numerous are the cases in which that death is INTEMPERANCE AND GLUTTONY. men:" there most miserable, not to say ignominious ! Stupid pride is one of the symptoms of madness. Of the two madmen mentioned in "Don Quixote,''^ one thought him- self Neptune, and the other Jupiter. Shaespeare agrees with Cervantes; for Mad Tom, in " King Lear," being asked who he is, answers, " I am a tailor run mad with pride." How many have we heard of, who claimed relationship with noblemen and kings; while of not a few each has thought himself the Son of God ! To the public journals, and to the observations of every one, nay, to the " county lunatic asylums'* (things never Iieard of in England till now), I appeal for the fact of the vast and hideous increase o/jnadness in this country; and, within these very few years, how many scoi'es of young men, who, if their minds had been unpervei'ted by the gambling principles of the day, had a probably long and happy life before them; who had talent, personal endowments, love of parents, love of friends, admiration of large circles; who had,. in short, every- thing to make life desirable, and who, from mortified pride, founded on false pretensions, have put an end to t/ieir own existence! 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 l»e wholly un- worthy 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 the Israelites by Moses, in Deuteronomy, chap. xxi. The father and mother are to take the bad son " and bring him to the 22 ADVIOS TO A YOUTH. "elders of the city; and they shall say to the elders, " This our son will aot obey our voice : he is a glutton " aftd a drunka/rd. And all the men of the city shall " stone him with itones, that he die." I refer down- right beastly gluttons and drunkards to this ; but in- dulgence short, far ihort, of this gross and really nasty drunkenness and gluttony is to be deprecated, and that, too, with the more ©aiiiiistness, because it is too often looked upon as being no crime at all, and as having nothing blamabl© in it j nay, there are many persons who pride themsely@ii on their refined taste in matters connected witl\ eating and drinking : so far from being ashamed of employing their thoughts on the subject, it is their boast that ihoy do it. St. Gregory, one of the Christian fathers, sayi : " It is not the quantity or the *^qibcdity of the meat or diink, but the love ofit^ that " is condemned ; " that i» 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, 26. This love 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 luilf ruined. To warn you against acts of fmud, robbery, and violence, is not my province; that is the buHinoss of those who make and administer tlta law. 1 am not talking to you against acts which tlio jailor and the hangman punish; nor against those moral rjflbnces which all men condemn ; but against indiilguncrs, whicli, by men in general, are deemed not only hurnilossi but meritorious; but which GOOD EATING AND DRINKING EXPENSIVE. 23 the observation of my whole life hias tauglit me to regard as destructive 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 "eating 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 expensive. The materials are costly, and the prepara- tions 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 people, and especiaUy 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 three meals, not less than thioe of the about fourteen hours that they are out of their beds ! A youth, habituated to this sort of indulgence, cannot be valuable io any employer. Sooh 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 amanuensis, for which ho appeared to be perfectly qualified. The terms were settled, and I, who wanted the job despatched, requested him to sit down, and begin ; but he, looking out of the window. 24 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. whence he could see the church clock, said, somewhat hastily, " I camnot stop wow, sir; I must go to dinner,'' "Oh!" said I, "you mmt go to dinner, must you! " Let the dinner, which you must wait upon to-day " have your constant services, then, for you and I 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 forego it for the sake of getting at his eating and drinking 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 certain 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 to friends and acquaintances; they will say nothilig to you ; they will offer you indulgences 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, people 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 truth is, they give no trovhle; they occasion no anxiety to please them ; they are sure not to make their sittings inconvenimtly long; and, which is the great thing of BE TEMPERATE. 25 all, their example teaches moderation to the rest of the I company. Your notorious " lovers of good cheer " are, on the contraiy, not to be invited without dva reflection \ — to entertain one of them is a serious business; and as people are not apt voluntarily to undertake such pieces of business, the well-known " lovers of good eat- "ing and drinking" are left, very goDwrally, to enjoy lit by themselves, and at their own expense. 28. But, all other considerations aside, Iiecdth, the most valuable of all earthly possessions, and without which [all the rest aro worth nothing, bids us, not only to [refrain from eoccess in eating and drinking, but bids us [to stop short of what might be indulged in without any lupparent impropriety. The words of Ecclesiasticus [ought 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 devour not, lest thou be hcUed, When \* thou sittest amongst many, reach not thine hand out first of all. How little is sufficient /or man v)dl tauglU! •" A wlwlesome sleep cometh of a temperate belly. Such \" a man riseth up in tlie morning^ and is well at ease with \" himself. Be not too hasty of meats; for excess of " meats bringeth sickness, and choleric disease cometh of "gluttony. By surfeit have many perished, and he " that dieteth hi7nsdf prolongelh his life. Show not thy " valiantness in wine ; for wine hath 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 1 How 36 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. well worthy of a constant place in our memories I Yet what pains have been taken to apologize 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 villains of talent who have employed that talent in the composition of Bacchanalian songs; that is to say, pieces of fine capti- vating writing in praise of one of the most odious and destructive vices in the black catalogue of human depravity. 20. In the passage which I have just quoted from chap. xxxi. of Ecclesiasticus, it is said that "wine ** measurahly taken, and in season,^* is a proper thing. This, and other such passages of the Old Testament, have given a handle to drunkards, and to extravagant people, to insist, that God intended that wine should be mommonly drunk. No doubt of that. But, then. He could intend this only in count:' es in which He Iiad given wine, and to which He had given no cheaper drink except water. If it be said, as it truly may, tliat, by the means of the sea and the vnnds, He has given wine to all countries, I answer that this gift is of no use to us no-w, because our Government steps in between the sea and the winds and us. Formerly, indeed, the case was diiFerent : and, here I am about to give you, in- cidentally, 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 fourpence a gallon, Winchester measure ; and of AVOID WINE DRINKING. 27 WHITE WINE, siocpence a gallon. At the same time the pay of a labouring man per day, as fixed by law, was I fourpence. Now, when a labouring man could earn/our quarts of good wine in a day^ it was, doubtless, allow- able, even in England, for people in the middle rank of life to drink wine rather co'm/monly; and, therefore, in those happy days of England, these passages of Scrip- ture 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 pa/rt of a gallon of wine to cost more than the pay of a labouring man for a day; now^ this passage of Scrip- ture is not applicable to us. There is no " season " in which we can take wine without ruining ourselves, however *' measurahly" 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 I cited, in justification 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 eveiy word of, the passage which I have just quoted from the book of Ecclesiasticus. How com- pletely have been, and are, its words verified by my experience and in my person ! How little of eating and drinking is sufficient for me ! How wholesome ia 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; ai>d, therefore, this knowledge I have been in the con- Btant habit of communicating. When one gives a dinner 28 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. to a company J it is an extraordinary affair, and is in- tended, by sensible 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 sujfficlency of wJwle' some food; despicable is the man, and worse than despicable is the youth, that would make any sacrifice, however small, whether of money or of time, or of anything else, in order to secure a dinner different from that which he would have had without such sacrifice. Who, what man, ever performed a greater quantity of labour than I have performed? What man ever did so much ? Now, in a great measure, I owe my capa- bility to perform this labour to my disregard of dainties. Being shut up two yeai-s in Newgate, with a fine on my head of a thousand pounds to the King, for having expressed my indignation at the flogging of Englishmen under a guard of German bayonets, I ate, during the 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 nothing but legs of mutton ; first day, leg of mutton boiled or roasted; second, cold; third, flashed; then, leg of mutton boiled; and so on. When I have been by myself, or nearly so, I have alvjaya proceeded thus : given directions for having every day the same thing, or alternately as above, and every day, exactly at the same hour, so as to prevent tlie necessity of any talk about the matter. I am certain that, upon an average, I have not, during my TEA AND COFFEE INJURIOUS. 29 life, spent more than thirty-jive minutes a-day at tahley ^icluding all the meals of the day. I like, and I take ire to have, good and clean victuals : but, if whole- iome 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 keen- less. But the great security of all is, to eat liitle, and bo dnnk nothing that irUoxicates. He that eats till he is fiiM is little better than a beast; and he that drinks ill he is drunk is quite a beast. 31. Before I dismiss this affair of eatitig and drink- ing, let me beseech you to resolve to free yourselves rom the slavery of the tea and coffee and other slop- httlCf if, unhappily, you have been bred up in such lavery. Experience has taught me that those slops M'e injurious to health: until I left them off (having iken to them at the age of 26), even my habits of )briety, moderate eating, early rising; even these were }t, until I left off the slops, sufficient to give me that >mplete health which I have since had. I pretend )t to be a "doctor;" but, I assert, that to pour egularly, every day, a pint or two of warm liquid flatter down the throat, whether under the name of 3a, coffee, soup, grog, or whatever else, is greatly in- irious to health. However, at present, what I have bo represent to you is the grecU deduction which the v>se )pf these slops makes from your power of being us^td, md also from your power to husband your income^ what- ever it may be, and from whatever source arising. I im to suppose you to be desirous to become a clever [and a useful man; a man to be, if not admired and 30. ADVICE TO A YOUTH. revered, 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 he 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 representation regard- ing the loaste 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 aay Jire, and even in a carriage on the road. The slops absolutely demand fire and a congregation; sa that, be your busi- ness what it may, — ^be you shopkeeper, farmer, drover, sportsman, traveller, — ^to the slop-board you must come ; you must wait for its assembling, or start from home without your breakfast ; 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 no- thing ? 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 dinner, perhaps, near to the scene of your work ; but how are you to have the I \ NECESSITY OF BECBRATIOIT. 81 or cowrae must Ihreakfast slops without a servant ? Perhaps you find a bodging just to suit you, but the house is occupied by [people who keep no servants^ and you want a servant [to ligM a jwe^ and get the slop ready. You could get this lodging for several shillings a- week \em than another it the next door ; but there they keep a servant, who ^ill " gei you your breakfast," and preserve you, bene- rolent creature as she is, from the cruel necessity of ;oing to the cupboard and cutting off a slice of meat ^r cheese and a bit of bread. She will, most likely, )ast yoiur bread for you too, and melt your butter; and t)heu muffle you up, in winter, and send you out almost swaddled. Eeally such a thing can hardly be expected 3ver to become a man. You are weak; you have lelicate health; you are "bUwus!^* Why, my good jEellow, it is these very slops that make you weak and )ilious ! And, indeed, the povertyy the real poverty, lat they and their concomitants bring on you, greatly sists, in more ways than one, in producing your delicate health." 33. So much for indulgences in eating, drinking, and iress. Next, as to arnvsements. It is recorded of the lous Alfred, that he devoted eight hours oi the [twenty-four to hhouVy eight to rest, and eight to recreor num. He was, however, a Mjig, and could be timikmg [during the eight hours of recreation. It is certain, that Ithere 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 soH of recreation ought to be attended to. It ought to be such as is at once innocent in itself and in its tendency, and 32 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. not injurious to health. The spoiiis of the field are the best of all, because they are conducive to health, be- cause they are enjoyed by daylight^ and because they demand early rising. The nearer that other amuse- ments approach to these, the better they are. A town life, which many persons are compelled, by the nature of their calling, to lead, precludes the possibility of pursuing amusements of this description to any very considemble extent; and young men in towns are, generally speaking, compelled to choose between hooks on the one hand, or gaming and the plai/hoitse on the other. Dancing 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 about them; it has no tendency to excite base and malignant feelings; and none but the most grovelling and hateful tyranny, or the most stupid and despicable fanaticism, ever raised its voice against it. The bad modem habits of England have created one incon- venience attending the enjoyment of this healthy and innocent pastime; namely, late hours, which are at once injurious to the health, and destructive of order and of industry. In other countries people dance by daylight. Here they do not; and, thei*efore, you must, in this respect, submit to the custom, though not without robbing the daucing 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 AVOID GAMING. 33 [you have given, and intend to give, no equivalent. No [gambler was ever yet a happy man, and very few [gamblers have escaped being miseiuble; and, observe, [to gamufor Twthing is still gaming, and naturally leads gaming for something. It is sacrificing time, and that, too, for the worst of purposes. I have kept house for nearly forty years; I have reared a family; I have entertained as many friends as most people; and I lave ne . er had cards, dice, a chess-board, nor any imple- lent of gaming, under my roof. The hours that young len spend in this way are hours T/mrdered; precious lours that ought to be spent either in reading, or in rriting, or in rest, preparatory to the duties of the lawn. Though I do not agree with the base and nau- seous flatterers, who now declare the army to be ^Ae heat school for statesmerif it is certainly a school in which to mrn exi)erimentally many useful lessons; and, in this shool I learned, that men, fond of gaming, are very irely, if ever, trustworthy. I have known many a lever man 'rejected in the way of promotion only be- luse he was addicted to gaining. Men, in that state Df life, cannot ruin themselves by gaming, for they )ossess no fortune, nor money; but the taste for gaming Rs always regarded as an indication of a radically bad [disposition ; and I can truly say, that I never in my [whole life knew a man, fond of gaming, who was not, Kin some way or other, a person unworthy of confidence. fThis 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 portrayed by Regnard, in a comedy, the translation of u ADVICE TO A YOXJTn. ■wMch into English resembles the original much abont Es nearly as Sib J. Gbahah's plagiarisms resembled the Begisters on which they had been comolitted, is a fine instance of the contempt and scorn to which gaming, at last, rednces its votaries; but, if any young man be engaged 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 bim of his senses. If, after this sight, he remain obdurate, he is doomed to be a disgrace to his name. 35. The Theatre may be a source not only of amuse- , ment, but also of instruction; 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 uttei'ed on the stage which has not been pre- viously approved of by the Lord Chamberlain ; 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 their money to hear uttered aueh 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 ser- vility 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 sentiment and BE CABEFUL IN CHOOSING COMPANIONS. Z5 mock-liberalitj and mock-loyalty are applauded to the skies. 36. *' Show me a man's companioiw" says the pro- verb, "and I will tell you what the mem 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 blamable ; I mean the tavern-haunters, the gay companions who herd together to do little but talkf and who are so fond of talk that they go from home to get at it. The conversation amongst such persons has nothing of instruction in it, and is generally of a vicious tendency. Young people naturally and com- mendably seek the society of those of their own age ; but, be careful 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 proatitutea. Either of these argues a depraved taste, and even a depraved heart; an absence of all principle and of all trustworthiness ; 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 fortune 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 punishment is deferred ; but it comes at last ; it ia 36 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. sure to come ; and ths gay and dissolute youtli is a de- jected and misembl© man, After the early part of a life spent in illicit indulginoes^ a man is unworthy of being the huHband of a virtuous woman ; and, if he have anything like justioe in him, how is he to reprove, in his children, vio@s iu which he himself so long in- dulged ? These vices of youth are varnished over by the saying, that there mui^t be time for " sowing the "vnld oata" and that "tmtdest colta make the heat "horaea" These figurative oatH are, however, generally like the literal ones; they are never to be eradicated from the aoil; and as to the colta, wildness in them is an indication of high cmimat spirit, having nothing at all to do with the mind, which is invariably debilitated and debased by profligate indulgences. Yet this miser- able piece of sophistry, the offspring of parental weak- ness, is in constant use, to the incalculable injury of the rising generation. What so amiable as a steady, trustworthy boy ? Ho is of real use at an early age : he can be trusted far out of the sight of parent or em- ployer, while the "pickle" 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 ovm rank in life as nearly as may Ije ; but, at any rate, none to whom you acknowledge it^feriority; for, slavery is too soon learned ; and, if the mind be bowed down in the youth, it will s<»l(lom rise up in the man. 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 IMPORTANCE OP GOOD MANN!!RS. 37 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 to spend than the poorest. These wise men know well the mischiefs that must arise from inequality of pecu- niary means amongst 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 other causes, it is, that the scholars have, ever since the existence of their Order, been the most cele- brated for learning of any men in the world. 37. In your manners be neither booiish nor blunt, but even these are preferable to simpering and crawling. I wish every English youth could see those of the United States of America; always dvU, never servile. Be 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 obedience in apprentices, in servants, in all inferiors in station, she owes, in a great measure, her multitudes of matchless merchants, tradesmen, and workmen of every description, and also the achievements of her armies and navies. It is no disgrace, but the contrary, to obey, cheerfully, lawful and just commands. None ai*e so saucy and dijobedient 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 38 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. laws. But, there is a wide difference between lawful and cheerful obedience, and that servility which repre- sents people as laying petitions "at the hmg'a feeif* which makes us imagine that we behold the supplicants actually crawling upon their bellies. There is something so abject in this expression; there is such horrible self- abasement in it, that I hope that every youth, who shall read this, will hold in detestation the reptiles who make use of it. In all other countries, the lowest individual can put a petition into the hands of the chief magistrate, be he king or emperor : let us hope, tiiat the time wifli yet come when Englishmen will be able to do the same. In the meanwhile I beg you to despise these woi'se than pagan parasites. 38. Hithei'to I have addressed you chiefly relative to things to be avoided; let me now turn to the things which you ought to do. And, first of all, the kysband- ing of yowr time. The respect that you will receive, the real and sincere respecty will depend entirely on what you are able to do. If you be rich, you may purchase what is called respect; but it is not worth ha Ing. To obtain respect worth possessing you must, as I observed before, do moi'e than the common run of men in your state of life; and, to be enabled to do this, you must manage well your 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 f it is no easy matter to break themselves off it; and if they do not go to bed early, they cannot rise early. DO NOT WASTE TIME IN DRESS. m I 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 arerage, lesa than ei^/i^; 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 JBhould sit talking till ihej 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 are [worth after midnight; and this I believe to be a fact; [but it is useless to go to bed early, and even to rise 3arly, if the time be not well employed aft^r rising. [In general half the morning is loitered away, the party 3ing in a sort of half-dressed half-naked state; out of )ed, indeed, but still In a sort of bedding. Those who irst invented maming-govsna and slippers could have rery little else to do. These things are very suitable those who have had fortunes gained for them by bhers; very suitable to those who have nothing to do, id who merely live for the purpose of assisting to con- ime the produce of the earth; but he who has^ his >read to earn, or who means to be worthy of respeoi [on account of his labours, has no business with mom- ling go^ii and slippei-s. In short, be your business or calling what it may, dreaa at once far the day; and learn, to do it as quickly as possible. A looking-glass is I a piece of furniture a great deal worse than useless. Looking at the ^ace will not alter its shape or its colour; and, perhaps, of all wasted time, none is so foolishly wasted, as that which is employed in surveying one's own face. Nothing can be of little importance if one 40 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. 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 ^vd mimiies of time, and may be, and frequently is, made to cost thirty f or even Jifty minutes; 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 Sib John Sinclair ask Mr. Cochrane Johnstone whether he meaned to have p. son of his (then a little boy) taught Latin. "No,** said Mr. Johnstone, " but I mean to do something a "great deal better for him." "What is that?" said Sir John. "Why," said the other, "teach him to " shave with cold waier and vnthoiU a glass," Which, I dare say, he did; and for which benefit I am sure that son has good reason to be grateful. Only think of the inconvenience attending the common practice I There must be hot water; to have this there must be a fire f and, in some cases, a fire for that purpose alone; to have these thero must be a servant, or you must light a fire yourself. For the want of these the job is put off until a later hour; this causes a stripping and a/nother dressing bo^d; or you go in a slovenly state all that day, and the next day the thing must bo done, or cleanliness must be abandoned altogether. If you be on a journey, you must wait the .pleasure of the ser- vants at tiie inn, before you can dress and set out in the morning; the pleasant time for travelling is gone before you can move from the spot ; instead of being at BE AL17AYS READY. 41 the end of your day's jor rney in good time, you are be- nighted, and have to endure all the gi*eat 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 I And how many thousand of' such delays daily [proceed from this unworthy cause ! " Toujours prU P* ras the motto of a famous French general ; and, pray, ^t it be yours : be " always ready;" and never, during rour whole life, have to say, " / cannot go till I he " shaved and dressed." Do the whole at once for the ly, whatever may be your state of life ; and then you lave a day unbroken by those indispensable perform- mces. Begin thus, in the days of your youth, and, laving felt the superiority which this practice will give rou over those in all other respects your equals, the {titictice will stick by you to the end of your life. Till jrou be shaved and dressed for the day, you cannot set jadily about any business ; you know that you must 3sently quit your labour to return to the dressing lair ; you therefore put it off until that be over ; the iterval, the precious interval, is spent in lounging ibout ; 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 I owe more of my great I labours to my strict adherence to the precepts that I have here given you, than to all the natural abilities with which I have been endowed ; for these, whatever may have been their amount, would have been of com- 42 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. paratively little use, even aided by great sobriety and abstinence, if I had not, in early life, contracted the blessed habit of husbanding well my time. To this, more than to any other thing, I owed my very extra- ordinary promotion in the army. I was always ready: if I had to mount guard at terif I was ready at nine: never did any man, or anything, wait one moment for me. Being, at an age under twenty yearSf raised from Corporal to Sergeant-Major at once, over the heads of thirty Sergeants, I naturally should have been an object of envy and hatred ; but this habit of early rising and of rigid adherence to the precepts which I hav* given you, really subdued these passions; because eveiy one felt that what I did he had never done, and never could do. Before my promotion, a clerk was wanted to make out the morning report of the regiment. I rendered the clerk unnecessary; 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 summer, at d^y-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, l^fore the time came for 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 MONET, NOT BVEBYTHING. 43 ras lefb to me, I always had it on the ground in enich time as that the bayonets glistened in the rising sun, a light which gave me delight, of which I often think, [»ut which I should in vain endeavour to describe. If le officers were to go out, eight or ten o'clock was the bur, sweating the men in the heat of the day, breaking upon the time for cooking their dinner, putting all lings out of order and all men out of humour. When [was commander, the men had a long day of leisure efore them : they could ramble into the town or into ie woods; go to get raspberries, to catch birds, to Iktch fish, or to pursue any other recreation, and such them as chose, and were qualified, to worh at their ides. So that here, arising solely from the early ibits of one very young man, were pleasant and Uppy days given to hundreds. 40. Mrniey is said to be power, which is, in some 3S, true; and tho same maybe said of knowledge: superior ac^mety, indiLstry, and activity , are a still re certain source of power; for, without these, hnow- je is of little use; and as to the power which Tnoney res, it is that of brute force, it is the power of the fudgeon and the bayonet, and of the bribed press, ^ngue, and pen. Superior sobriety, industry, activity, lough accompanied with but a moderate p(»1ion of lowledge, command respect, because they have great id visible influence. The drunken, the lazy, and le inert, stand abashed before the sober an^l the stive. Besides, all those whose interests are at stake prefer, of necessity, those whose exertions produce the satest and most immediate and visible efiect. Self- u ADVICE TO A YOUTH. interest is no respecter of persons : it asks, not who knows best what ought to be done, but who is most likely to do it; we may, and often do, admire the talents of la^ and even dissipated men, but we do not trust them with the care of pur interests. If, there- fore, you would have respect and influence in the circle in which you move, be more sober, more industrious, more 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 in schools ; but education means rearing t^, and the French speak of the education of pigs and sheep. In a very famous French book on rural affairs, there is a chapter entitled " Edtication du Cochon,** that is, edttcation of the hog. 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 learning means knowledge; and but a comparatively small part of useful knowledge comes from books. Men are not to be called ignorant merely because they cannot make upon paper certain marks with a pen, or because they do not know the meaning of such marks when made by others. A ploughman may be very learned in his line, though he does not know what the letters p.l.o.u.g.h. mean when he sees them combined upon paper. The first thing to be required of a man is, that he understand well his own calling or profession; and, be you in what state of life you may, to acquire this knowledge ought to be your first and greatest care. A man who has had a new- REAL ME.4NING OP EDUCATION. 45 built-house tumble down will derive little more con- solation from being told that the architect ii a great [astronomer, than 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 beheld, 42. Nevertheless, book-learning is by no means to )e despised; and it is a thing which may be laudably )ught after by persons in all states of life. In those mrsuits which are called professional i,t is necessary, l^nd also in certain trades; and, in persons in the dddle ranks of life, a total absence of such, learning is iiomewhat disgraceful. There is, however, one danger be carefully guarded against; namely, the opinion that your genius, or your literaiy acquirements are Inch as to warrant you in disregarding the calling in rhich you are, and by which you gain your bread, parents must have an uncommon portion of solid sense counterbalance their natural affection, sufficient to ike them competent judges in such a case. Friends partial; and thoi^e who are not, you deem enemies, bick, therefore, to the shop; rely upon your mercan- ile or mechanical or professional calling; try your |trength in literature, if you like; but rely on the lop. If Bloomfield, who wrote a poem, called the ■"armer's Boy, had placed no reliance on the faithless [uses, his unfortunate and much to be pitied £Eimily rould, in all probability, have not been m a state to solicit relief from charity. I remember that this loyal shoemaker was flattered to the skies, and (ominous sign, he had understood it) feasted at the tables of some of 46 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. the great. Have, I beseech yon, no hope of thfe sort; and, if you 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 trade or profession. One of these portions is distinct reading, plain and neat writing, and cmthmdic. The two for- mer are mere child's work ; the latter not quite so easily acquired, but equally indispensable; and of it you ought to have a thorough knowledge before you attempt to study even the grammar of your own language. Arith- metic is soon learned; it is not a thing that requires much natural talent; it is not a thing that loads the memory or puzzles the mind; and it is a thing of eoery-day vJbiXUy. Therefore, this is, to a certain extent, an absolute necessary — an indispensable acquisition. Every man is not to be a awro&yw or an (MMmry; and, therefore, you may stop far short of the knowledge of this sort which is demanded by these professions; but, as far as common accounts and calculations go, you ought to be perfect ; and this you may make yourself, without any assistance from a master, by bestowing upon this science, during six months, only one-half of the time that is, by persons of your age, usually wasted over the tea-slops, or other kettle-slops alone ! If you became fond of this science, there may be a little danger of your wasting your time on it. When, there- fore, you have got as much of it as your business or ,profession can possibly render necessary, turn the time IMPORTANCE OF OBAMUAB. 47 to some other pnrpose. As to hooks, on this subject, they are in everybody's hand; but there is one booh, on tiie subject of calculations, which I must point out to you, " The Cambist," by Dr. Kelly. This is a bad txtlC) 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 country. For instance, it tells us what a Spanish dollar, a Dutch dollar, a French franc, and so on, is worth in English money. It does the same with regard to weights and Tneasu/res; and it extends its information to all the countries in the world. It is a work of rare merit; and every youth, be his state of life what it may, if it per- mit him to pursue book-learning of any sort, and par- ticularly, if he be destined, or at all likely to meddle with commercial matters, ought, as soon as convenient, to possess this valuable and instructive book. 44. The next thing is the Grammar of your own language. Without understanding this, you can never hope to become fit for anything beyond mere trade or agriculture. It is true, that we do (God knows !) bub 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 sub- serviency of the party to the will of some government, and the baseness of fiome nation who have quietly sub- mitted to be governed by brazen fools. Do not you imagine that you will have luck of this sort : do not 48 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. you hope to be rewarded and honoured for that ignor- ance which shall prove a scourge to your country, and which will earn you the curses of the children yet unborn. Bely you upon your merit, and upon nothing else. Without a knowledge of grammar, it is impos- sible for you to write correctly; and, it is by mere accident if you speak correctly; and, pray, bear in mind, that all well-infonned 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 distinct 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 : it demands much reflection and much patience; but, when once the task is performed, it is performed /or li/ey 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 both together. And, what is the labour? It consists of no bodily exertion ; it exposes the student to no cold, no hunger, no suffering of any sort The study need subtract from the hours of no business, nor, indeed, from the hours of necessary exercise : the hours usually spent on the tea and coffee slops, and in the mere gossip which accompany them ; those wasted hours, of only one year, employed in the study of English gmm- mar, 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 circumstances of any sort. I learned grammar when I was a private HOW THE AUTHOR LEABN£D OEAMMAR. 49 soldier on the pay of sixpence a-day. The edge of my berth, or that of the guard-bed, was my seat to btudy in; my knapsack was my bookcase; a bit of board lying on my lap was my writing-table; and the task did not demand anything 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 evening-light but that of the Jire, and only my turn even of that. And if I, under such circumstances, and without parent or friend to advise or encourage me, accom- plished this undertaking, what excuse can there be for , any yoiUh, howevei poor, however pressed with busi- ness, or however circumstanced as to room or other conveniences? To buy a pen or a sheet of paj)er I was compelled to forego some portion 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 thought- less 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 exer- cise. The whole of the money, not expended for us at market, was twopence a-week for each man. I remember, and well I may ! that, upon one occasion, T, after all absolutely necessary expenses, had, on a Friday, made shift; to have a halfpenny in reserve, which I had destined for the purchase of a red-herring in the morning; but, when I pulled off my clothes at 00 ▲DVZOa TO ▲ YOUTH. night, 80 hungiy tben as to be bardly able to endure li£9, 1 found thftt I bad hit my hdlf penny t I buried my bead under tbe miserable sbeet and rvi^f and cried like a child! And, Again I say, if I, under circum- stances like these, could encounter and overcome ^his task, is there, can there be, in the whole world, a youth to find an excuse for the non-performance 1 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 ail literature; and because withottt this knowledge oppor- tunities for writing and speaking are only occasions for men to dispky their unfitness to write and speak. How many fiedse pretenders to erudition have I ex- posed to shame merely by my knowledge of grammar! How many of the insolent and ignorant 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 1 As to the course to be pursued in this great undertaking, it is, first, to read the grammar fh)m the first word to the last very attentively, seveml times over; then, to copy the whole of it very correctly and neatly; and then to study the ofaapters one by one. And what does this reading and writing require as to time 9 Both together not more than the tea-slops and tlieir gossips for thi^ee months/ There are about throe hundred pages in my English ACQUIRE THE HABIT OF PERSEVERANCE. 51 Grammar. Pour of those little pages in a day, which is a mere trifle of work, do the thing in three months. Two hours a-daj are quite sufficient for the purpose; and these may, in any town that I have ever known, or in any Tillage, be taken from that part of the morning during which the main part of the people are in bed. I do not like the evening oandle-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 is sufficient of that day-light which is usually wasted, usually gossipped or lounged away, or spent in somA C' ^ Tianner productive of no pleasure, and generally ^cing pain in the end. It is very be- coming in all persons, and paiticularly in the young, to be civil and even polite; but it becomes neither young nor old to have an everlasting simper on their £Eices, aid their bodies sawing in an everlasting bow; and how many youths have I seen who, if they had spent, in the learning of grammar, a tenth part of the time that they had consumed in earning merited con* tempt for their affected gentility, would have laid the foundation of sincere respect towards them for the whole of their lives ! 46. Ferseverafioe is a prime quali^ in every pur- suit, and particularly in this. Yours is, too, the time of life to acquire this inestimable habit Men fail much ofbener 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 suc- ceis in study is to him who is not in haste, but to him 62 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. wlio proceeds with a steady and eyen step. It 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 mv xi as to the want of patient perseverance. Gram- mar is a branch of knowledge, like all other things of high value, which is of difficult acquirement : the study is dry; the subject is intricate; it engages not the passions; and, if the qreat end be not kept constantly in. view; if you lose, for a moment, sight of the ample reward, indifference begins, that is followed by weariness, and disgust and despair close the book. To ^ard against this result be not in haste; keep steadUj/ on; and, when you find we«mnes3 approaching, rouse yourself, and remember, that, if you give up, all that you have done has been done in vain. This is a mat- ter 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 weariness. The most effectual means of security against this mortifying result is to lay down a rule to write or to read a cer- tain fixed quantity every day^ Sunday excepted. Our minds are not always in the same state; they have not, at dl times, the same elasticity; 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 tJieJita of lassitude^ and almost mechanically to go on without the stimulus of hope, the buoyant fit speedily returns ; you congratu- late yourself that you did not yield to the temptation mPOETANCE OF GBAMMAB. 5Z to abandon your pursuit, and you proceed with more vigour than ever. Five or six triumphs over tempta- tion to indolence or despair lay the foundation of cer- tain success; and what is of still more importance, fix in you the haUt 0/ perseverance, 47. If I have bestowed a large portion of my space on this topic, it has been because I know from experi- ence, 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 possess 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 Adjvianif under whom it was my duty to act when I was a Sergeant-Major, was, as almost all military officers are, or, at least, werey a very illiterate man, perceiving that every sentence of mine was in the same form and manner as sentences in vrintf became i?hy of letting me see pieces of his writing. The writing of Orders f 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 latter as effectually as if a law had been passed to confer it upon me. In short, I owe to the possession of this branch of knowledge everything that has enabled me to do so many things that very few other men have done, and that now gives me a degree of influence, such as is possessed by few others, in the most weighty concerns of the country. The possession of this branch of knowledge rai»es you in your own esteeion, gives just confidence in yourself, and prevents you from being the 5i ADVICE TO A YOUTH. willing slave of the ricli and the titled part of the community. 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 of grammarf I might here leave the subject of learning, arithmetic and gram- mar, both loeU leoftnedf being as much as I would wish in a mere youtL But these need not occupy the whole of your spare time; and there are other branches of learning which ought immediatdy 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 object in life, is to secure the honest means of obtaining sustenance, raiment, and a state of being suitable to your rank, be that rank what it may : excellence in yotur own calling is, therefore, the first thing to be aimed at After this may come g&MTol knowtedgef and of this, the first is a thorough knowledge of yotar own courv^; for how ridiculous it is to see an English youth engaged in reading about the customs of the Chinese, or of the Hindoos, while he is content to be totally ignorant of thos# of Kent or of Cornwall. Well employed he must be in ascertaining how Greece was divided, and how the Romans parcelled out their territory, while he knows not, and, apparently, does not want to know, how England came to be divided into counties, hun- dreds, parishes, and tithings ! 49. GsoaBAPHY naturally follows Grammar; and UnLITT OF OIOGfiAPHT. 55 you should begin wiiJi tliat of tliis kingdom, wliich you ought to understand well, pezfectly well, before you venture to look abroad. A rather slight knowledge of the divisions and customs of other countries is, gene- rally speaking, sujQIcient; 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 scholar, some- what disgiuoefliL Yet, how many men are there, and those called gentiemm too, who seem to think that counties and parishes, and churches and parsons^ aod tithes and glebes, and manors and courtsi-leet, and paupers and poor-houses, all grew up in England, or dropped down upon it, immediately after Noah*s flood ! Surely, it is necessary for every man, having any pret usions to scholarship, to know how ihete thirigs coma; and, the so(mer this knowledge is acquired the better; for, until it be acquired, you read the histoiy 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 80 called, has, that I know of, ever yet performed, except, in part, myself in the " History qfihe Protestant Reformation." I had read Hume's ** History of Eng- landy" and the continuation by Bmollbit; but, in 1802, when I wanted to write on the subject of the Tum-residance qfthe clergy, I found, to my great morti- fication, tliat I knew not the foundation of the office and the claims of the parsons, and that I could not even guess at the origin ofpofliishes. This gave a new turn to my inquiries; and t soon found the romancers, called historians, had given me no information that I 56 ADVICE TO A YOUTH. could rely on, and, besides, had done, apparently, all they could to keep me in the dark. 50. When you come to Histobt, begin also with that of you/r own coimtry; and here it is my bounden duty to put you toeU on your guard; for, in this respect, we' are peculiarly imfortimate, and for the following reasons, to which I beg you to attend. TJ^ree hundred yemrs ago, the religion of Iki^land had been, during nine hwndred yearSf the Catholic religion; the Catholic clergy possessed about a third part of all the lands and houses, which they held in trust for their own support, for the building and repairing of churchesy and for the relief of the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the stranger; but, at the time just mentioned, the king and the aristocracy changed the religion to Protestant^ took the estates of the Church and the poor to themsdves aa thdrovm property y and taaoed the people at large for the building and repairing of churches, and for the relief of the poor. This great and terrible change, effected 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 f!rom that day to this, to cause us all to believe that that change was for the heUer; that it was for our good; and that, before thaJli time, our forefathers were a set of the most miserable slaves that the sun ever warmed with his beams. It happened, too, that the a/rt of printing was not discovered, or, at least, it was very little understood, until about the time when this change took place; so that the books relating to former times were confined to manuscript; and, besides, ev^n these manuscript u . »» OUB HISTOBfANS. 57 libraries were destroyed ■with great care by those who had made the change and had grasped the property of the poor and the Church. Our "historians^* as they are called, have written under fea/r of the powerful, or have been bribed by them; and, generally speaking, both at the same time : and, accordingly, their works are, as far as they relate to former times, masses of lies, unmatched by any others that the world has ever seen. 51. The great object of these lies always has been to make the main body of the people believe that the nation is now more happy, more populous, more power- ful, than it vjas he/ore it was Protestant, and thereby to induce us to conclude that it was a good thing for us that the aristocracy should take to themselves the property of the poor and the Church, and make the people at large pay taxes for tlie support of both. Thia has been, and still is, the great object of all those heaps of lies; and those lies are continually spread about amongst us in all forms of publication, from heavy folios down to halfpenny tracts. In refutation of those lies we have only very few and rare ancient books to refer to, and their information is incidental, seeing that their authors never dreamed of the possibility of the lying generations which were to come. V^e have the ancient Acts of Parliament, the common law, the customs, the canons of the Chm*ch, and the churches themselves; but these demand analyses and oflrgvment^ and they demand, also a really free press and unpreju- diced and patient readers. Never in this world before had truth to stmggle with so many and such great disad^vantagesl 58 ADYIdB TO A TOUTH. 52. To refiite lies is not, at present, my bnsmeas; but it is my business to give you, in as small a compaas as possible, one striking proof that they are lie^^ and thereby to put you well upon your guard for the whole of the rest of your life. The opinion sedulously iacul- cated by these "historians" is this: that, before the Protestant times caine, England was, comparatively, an insignificant country, Juwing few people in it, cmd ihoae few loretchecUy poor and miserable, How, take the following undeniable facts. All the parishes in England are now (except where they have been united, and two, three, or four have been made into one), in point of size, what they were a thousand years ago. The Oouniy of Norfolk is the best cultivated of any one in England. This county has now 731 parishes, and the number was formerly greater. Of these parishes 22 ham tww no chii/rreferenoe to men who rido in their carriages. 58. This shame of being thought poor is not only dishonourable in itself, and fatally injurious to men of talent, but it is mi nous even in a peauniary point of view, and equally destructive to farmers, traders, and even gentlemen of landed estate. It leads to ever- lasting clforts to diiyum one^t poverty; the carriage, the servants, the wine, (oh, that fatal wine!) the spirits, the decanters, the glasses, all the table appa- ratus, the dress, the horses, the dinners, the parties — all must be kept up; not so much because he or she who keeps or gives them has any pleasure arising there- from, as because not to keep and give them would give rise to a suspicion qf the tmnt of means so to give and AVOID FALSE APPEARANCES. 65 keep ; and thus thousands upon thousands are yearly brought into a state of real poverty by their great anxiety not to he thought poor. Look ro ind you, mark well what you behold, and say if this be not the case. In how many instances have you seer, most amiable and even most industrious families brought to ruin by nothing but this? Mark it well; resolve to set this 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 moment, who are thus strug- gling to keep up appearances. The farmers accommo- date themselves to circumstances more easily than tradesmen and professional men. They live at a gi'eater distance 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 ti*eat out of a rasher and eggs, and the world is none the wiser all the while. But the trades- man, the 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 of living, a sort of scale to the plan, a sort of k^ to the tune; this is the thing to banish first of all ; because all tho rest follow, and come down to their proper level in a short time. The accursed decanter cries footman or waiting-maid, putg bells to the side of tho wall, screams aloud for carpets ; and when I am asked, " Lord, w/i(rf is a glass of wine?" my answer is, that, in this country, it is 6'erything; it is the pitcher of the key ; it demands all the other unnecessary expenses ; it is injurious to ee ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN. health, and must be injuriousj every bottle of wine that is drunk containing a certain portion of ardent spirits, besides other drugs deleterious in their nature; and, of all the friends to th'^ d. tor, this fashionable beverage is the greatest. And, which adds greatly to the folly, or, I should say, the real vice of using i>, is, that the parties themselves, nine times out of ten, do not drink it by cAoicc — 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 t'^bles, and who driiik 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. 69. There is no shame belonging to poverty, which frequently arises from the virtues of the impoverished parties. Not so frequently, indeed, as from vice, folly, and indiscretion; but still very frequently. And as the Scripture tolls us, that we are not to " despise the poor becaum he is poor," so ought we 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 & nduct, and to respect him, or despise him, according to a due estimate of that character. No country upon earth exhibits so many, as this, of those fatal termhia- tions of life, called suicides. These arise, in nine instances out of ten, from this very source. The Aiotims are, in general, what may be fairly oalled OWE NO MAN ANYTHING. 67 insane; but their insanity always arises from the dread of poverty; not from the dread of a want of the means of BUBtaining life, or even decent living, but from the dread of being thought or known to be poor; from the dread of what is called falling in the scale of society; a dread which js 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 alteration in his dress or his diet, why should he kill himself 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 numerous and terrible are the evils arising from this dread of being thought to be poor. , 60. Nevertheless, men ought to tate care of their means, ought to use them prudentl}/ and sparingly, and to keep their expenses always within the bounds of their income, be it what it m»:f. One of the effectual means of doing this is to purchase with ready money. St. Paul says, " Owe no mom am thing ^^ and, of his numerous precepts, thip is by nc m ans the least worthy of our attention. €r,fdit has been boasted of as a very fine thing; to decry credit seems to be setting oneself up against tho opinions of the whole world; and I remember a paper in the ^^ Froeholder" or the "Spec- tator" published just after the funding system had begun, representing "Pubuc Credit" as a Goddess, enthroned in a temple dedicated to her by her votaries, amongst whom ahe is dispensing blessings of eveiy C8 ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN. description. It must be moi*e than forty yeara since I read this paper, which I read soon after the time when the late Mr. Pitt uttertd in ParKament an exprePsiJcu of his anxious hop 3, that his " name would be ini^icribed "on the monument which he should raise to pttblic "credit.** Time has taught me that Pwblio Credit means the contracting of Dobts which a nation never can pay; and I have lived to see this Goddess produce eiiects, in my country, which Satan himself never could ha'» e pioduced. It is a very bewitciiing Goddt-ss ; and not 1:;S3 f&t'A in hf.r influence in private than in public affair;?. It has been carried in this latter respect to such a ipitchj that scarcely any transaction, however low and inconsiderable in amount, takes place in a!iy other way. There is a trade in London, .!alled tho " Tally trade," by which household goods, coals, cloth- ing, all sorts of things, are sold upon credit, — tlie seller keeping a taUy, and receiving 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 are 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 even 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 higlier 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 CREDIT AND BEADY MONEY. 69 been observed, and very truly observed, that men used to lay out a one-pound note when they would not lay out a sovereign ; a consciousness of the intrinsic value of the things produces 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 diflference 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 pay- ment must come, to be sure, but that is little thought of at the time; but if the money were to be drawn out the moment the thin^ was received or offered, this, question would arise, *" Can I do wUliout it?" Is this thing 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 trans- actions 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 everyday 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 cariies on 70 ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN. his work by sliips and exchanges ? I was delighted, some title ago, by being told of a young man, who, upon being advised to k&^ a little account of all he received and expended, answered, "that his business " was not to keep account-books; that he was sure not " to make a mistake as to his income; and that, as to " his expenditure, 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. I 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 case of ready money. Suppose, then, the baker, butcher, tailor, and shoemaker, receive &om 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 was, in effect, to forbid trust; and this, doubtless, was one of the great objects which those wise and pious men had in view; for they were fathers in legislation and morals as well as in religion. But the doctrine of these Fathers and canons no longer prevails; they are set at naught by the present age, even in the countries that adhere to their religion. Addison's Goddess has pre- vailed 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 don't puhchase on cbedef. 71 absurd to expect them to do otherwise. They mitst not only charge something for. the want of the ibse of the money; but they must charge something additional for the risk of its loss, which may frequently arisO; 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, after all, he is not so good a customer as the man who purchases xjheaply with ready money; for there is his name indeed in the tradesman's book, but with that name the tradesman cannot go to the market to get a fre^ supply. 64. Infinite are the ways in which gentlemen lose by this soi-t of dealing. Servants go and order, some- times, things not wanted at all ; at other times, mors than is wanted; at others, things of a higher quality; 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 housekeeper op steward a bag of money, at the time, he woujd see the money too, would set a proper value upon it, and would jast desire to know upon what it had been ex- pended. 65. How is iif'that farmers are so exact, and show such a disposition to retrench in the article of labomr, when they seem to think little or nothing about the V r 72 ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN, 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*under- stand that they are affected by these. The reason is, that they see the money which they give to the labourer on each succeeding Saturday night; but they do not see that which they give in taxes on the articles before mentioned. Why 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 about the sixty millions a-year raised in other taxes ? The consumer pays all; and therafore 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 collected from them in nwrney; 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. ^^. 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 iu trust; while he would have lived in tranquillity all the while ; and would have avoided all the endless papers and writings and receipts and bills and disputes and lawsuits inseparable from a system of credit. This is by no means a lesson of stinginess; by no means tends to inculcate heaping EE CONTENT WITH WHAT YOU HAVE. 73 ler- ^ • IS, the up of money; for, the purchasing with ready 'money really gives you more money to purchase with ; you can afford to have a greater quantity and variety of things; and I will engage, that, if horses or servants he your %iste, the saving in this way gives you an addi- tional horse or an additional servant, if you be in any profession or engaged in any considerable trade. In towns it tends to accelerate your pace along the streets; for the temptation of the windows is answered in a moment by clapping your hand upon your thigh; and the question,," Do I really want that?" is sure to occur to you immediately; because the touch of the mon^ is sure to put that thought in your mind. 67. Now, supposing you to have a plenty ; ^gjiave a fortune beyond your wants ; would not the money which you would save in this way, be very well applied in acts of real benevolence? Can you walk many yards in the streets; can you ride a mile in the country; can you go to half-a-dozen cottages; caii you, in short, 9pen your eyes, without seeing some human being; some one bom in the same country with youx^elf, and who, on that account alone, has some claim upon your good wishes and your charity; can you open your eyes without seeing some person to whom even a sit? all 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 bo thought lich, or rather, from the desire not to be 74 ADVICfE TO A YOUNG MAN. t/ thought poor, is the destructive thing which has been honoured by the name of " apeculoUion" but which ought to be called Gambling. It is a purchasing of something which you do not want either in your family or in the way of ordinary trade : a 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 are neither mote nor less than gambling transactions; and they have been, in this country, a source of ruin, misery, and suicide, admitting of no adequate description. I grant that this gambling has arisen from the influence of the " Godcleas" before mentioned; I grant that it. has arisen from the facility of obtaining the fictitious means of making the pur- chases ; and I grant that tiiat facility has been created by the system under the ban^ul influence of which we live. But it is not the less necessary that I beseech you not to practise such gambling; that I beseech 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 the gamester; a life of constant anxiety; constant desire to overreach; constant appre- hension : general gloom.; enlivened, now and then, by a gleam of hope or of success. Even that success is sure to lead to further 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 is AVOID THE T^MMELS OF LAW. 75 the case in other gambling, the succeaa of 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 Genei'al-in-Ohief ; and as each of them belongs to the sofM profession, and is sure to be con- scious that he has equal merit, every one deems himself the suitable successor of him who is surrounded with Jides-de-Camps, and who moves battalions and columns by his nod : so with the rising generation of " specu- lators;" they see the great estates that have succeeded the pencil-box and the orange-basket; they see those whom nature and good laws made to black shoes, sweep chimneys or the streets, rolling in carriages, or sitting in saloons surrounded by gaudy footmen with napkins twisted round their thumbs; 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 reduced themselves to that beggary which, before the attempt, they #ould have regarded as a thing wholly impossible. • 70. In all situations of life avoid the trammels oft^ie law. Man's nature must be changed before lawsuits 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 lawsuits, 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 lawsuits; and who, tpon every slight occasion, ■ ,. M '\ ■}•»■■■ 76 ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN. talks of an appeal to the law. Such persons, from their frequent litigatrons, contract a habit of using the technical terms of the co arts, in which they take a pride, and are, therefore, companions peculiarly dis- gusting to men of sense. To such men a lawsuit is a I'Txury, instead of being, as it is to men of ordinary minds, a source of anxiety and £s. real and substantial scourge. Such men are always of a quarrelsome dispo- sition, and avail themselves of every opportunity to indulge in that which is mischievous to their neigh- bours. In thousands of instances men go to law for the indulgence of mere anger. The Germans are said to bring spite-actions against one another, and to harass their poorer neighboura 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 1 You only imbibe a little additional anger against your opponent; you injure him, but do harm to yourself. Better to put up with the loss of one pound than two, to which latter is to be added all the loss of time, all the trouble, and all the mortification and anxiety attending a lawsuit. To set an attorney to work to worry and torment another man is a very base act; to alarm his ^mily as well as himself, while you are sitting quietly at home. If a man owe you money which he cannot pay, why add to his distress, without the chance of benefit to yourself? Thousands of men have injured themselves by resorting AVOID DOUBLE DEALDTG. 77 from to the law; -while very few ever bettered themselves by it, except such resort were unavoidable. 72. Nothing is much more discreditable than what is called hard dealing. They say of the Turks, that they know nothing of two prices for the same article, and that to ask an abatement of the lowest shopkeeper is to insult him. It would be well if Clmstians imitated Mohammedans in this respect. To ask one price and take another, or to oflfer one price and give another, besides the loss of time that it occasions, is highly dis- honourable 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 circumstance in favour of the booksellers business; every book has its fixed price, and no one ever asks an abatement. If it v;ere thus in all other trades, how much time would be saved, and how much immorality prevented ! 73. As to the spending of your time, your business or your profession is to claim the priority of everything else. Unless that be duly attended tOf there can be no real pleasure in any other employment of a portion of your time. Men, however, must have some leisure, some . relaxation from business ; and in the choice of this relaxation much of your happiness will depend. Where fields and gardens 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 78 ADVICB TO A YOUNG MAN. young man from that of dmnkards and rioting com. panions; but there iis iuch a thing an your quiet "pipe "and pot companions" wbieh are, perhaps, the most fatal of all Nothing can be conceived more dull, more stupid, more the contrary of edification and rational amusement, than sitting, sottiiig, over a pot and a glass, sending out smoke from the head, and articulating, at intervals, nonsense about all sorts of things. Seven years' service as a gaUey-nlave would be more bearable to a man of sense than soven months' confinement to society like this. Yet, such is the effect of habit, that if a young man become a frequenter of such scenes, the idle f«'opensity sticks to him for life. Some companions, however, every man must have ; but these every well- behaved man will find in private houses, where families are found residing, an meddles with the combination, unless the person thui« assailed be blessed with uncommon talent and uncommon perseverance. When I read the works of Pope and of Swift, I was greatly delighted with their lashii of /Dennis; but wondered, at the same time, why tl ey should hav taken so much pains in running down .^uch 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 paiw away the time while my travelling companions were drinking in the next room ; but, seeing the b3ok contained the criticisms of Dennis, I was about to lay it down, when •'S FORM YOUR OWN JUDGMENT. 83 edge your 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 conde- scended to begin to read, though the work was from the pen of that^o^ Dennis. I read on, and soon began to la/ugh, 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 de- lighted with Dennis, and was heartily ashamed of my former admiration of " Cato," and felt no little resent- ment 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 anything upon trust; I have judged for myself, trusting neither to the opinions of writers nor in the fashions of the day. Having been told by Dr. Blair, in his " Lectures on Ehetoric,'* that if I meant to write correctly, I must " give my days and nights " to Addison," I read a few numbers of the " Sj^ectator" at tho time I was writing my "English Grammar;'^ I gave neither my nights nor my days to liim ; but I found an abundance of matter to afford examples of false grammar; and, upon a re-perusal, I found that the criticisms of Dennis might have been extended to this book too. 77. But that which never ought to have been for- \ ■ I - ■•• ■( 84 ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN. ' gotten by those who were men at the time, and that ■which ought to be made knotvn 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 Shakspeabe, \irhich transactions took place about thirty years ago. It is still, and it was then much more, the practice to extol every line of Shakspeabe to the skies : not to admire Shakspeare 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 profit- able reasons for crying up the works of this poet. When I was a very little boy there was a jvhilee in honour of Shakspeare; and as he was said to have planted a mulberry-tree, boxes, and other little orna- mental 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 of war, or a large house. This madness abated for some years; but, towards the end of the last century, it broke out again with more fury than ever. Shakspeare's works were published by Boydell, an Alderman of London, at a subscription of five hundred pounds for each copy, accompanied by plates, each forming a large picture. Amongst the madmen of the day was a Mr. Ireland, who seemed to be more mad than any of the rest. His THE 8HAESPEARIAK FOBGEB. 85 adoration of the poet led him to perform a pilgrimage to an old farmhouse, near Stratford-upon-Avon, said to have been the birthplace 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 his 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 clearing out a garret some years before, had found some rubbishy old papers which she had btimtf and which had probably been papers used in the wrapping up of pigs' cheeks, to keep them from the bats. " Oh, wretched woman !" exclaimed he; " do you know what you have done?" " Oh dear no!" said the woman, half frightened out of her wits : " no " harm, I hope, for the papers were very old; I dare " say as old as the house itself." This threw him into an additional degree of excitementf ar. 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 heathenish woman. Unfortunately for Mb. Ibeland, unfortunately for his learned brothers in the metropolis, and unfortunately for the reputation of Shakspeabe, Mb. Ibelaxtd took with him to the scene of his adoration, a son, abou^ 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 con- ceived the idesk of supplying the place of the invaluable papers which the &rmhouse heathen had destroyed* He thought, and he thought rightly, that he should 86 ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN. have little difficulty in writing plays just like thorn of Sfhokspea/re! 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. Yoimg Ireland was acquainted with a son of a bookseller, who dealt in old hooka: 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 severed plays^ some love letters J 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 abun- dance, and other little detached pieces, he produced to his father, telling him he got them from a gentleman, "w^ho had made Mm swear that he would not divulge his nams. The lather announced the invaluable discovery to the literary world; the literary world rushed to him; the manuscripts were regarded as genuine by the most grave and learned doctors, some of whom (and amongst these were Doctors Parr and Warton) gave, under their hands, an opinion that the manuscripts Trmst have been vnitten by Shakspeare; for that wo other man in the world covM have been capable of writing them! 78. Mr. Ireland opened a subscription, published these new and invaluable manuscripts at an enormous price; and preparations were instantly made for per- Jorming one of the plays, called Vortigern. Soon after the acting of the play, the indiscretion of the lad caused the secret to explode; and, instantly, those who had declared that he had written as well as Shakspeare, did everything in their power to destroy kim I The attorney ABSURDITY OP " FASHION" AS A GUIDE. 87 drove him from his office ; the fidiher drove Mm from his house; and, in short, he was hunted down ae if he had been a malefactor of iJie worst description. The truth of this relation is undeniable; it is recorded in num- berless book& The young man is, I believe, yet alive; and, in short, no man will question any one of the Uictin, 79. After this, where is the person of f who will be guided in these matters hy faehion? 'n the man, who wishes not to be deluded, who when he has read a book, judge for himself? After all these jubilees and pilgrimages; after Botdell's subscription , of £dOO for one single copy; after it had been deemed almost impiety to doubt of the gerius of Bhakspeabs surpassing that of all the rest of mankind; alter he had been called the " Immortal Ba/rdy^ as a matter of counie, as we speak of Moses and Aabon, there having been but one of each in the world; after all this, comes a lad of sixteen years of age, writes that which learned doctors declare could have been written by no man but Shaespeabe, and when it is discovered that this laughing boy is the real author, the DocTOBS turn round upon him, ii^ith all the newspapers, magazines and reviews, and, of course, the public at their back, revile him as an impostor; and, under that odious name, hunt him out of society, and doom him to starve ! This lesson, at any rate, he has given us, not to rely on the judgment of doctors and other pretenders to literary superiority. Every young man, when he takes up a book for the first .time, ought to remember this story; and if he do remember it, he will disregard &shion with regard to the book, and will pay little attention to the decision of those who call tljems^vet oritica. ^ ^^^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT.3) ^ 4^ ^ 1.0 1.1 11.25 ItilM 12.5 yg ■■■ liii ■tt liiii |22 ■yteu Photograiiiic Sdraices Corporation ■s$ i\ as WHT MAIN STRUT WnSTIR.N.V. MSM (7l*)t7a-4»03 68 ADVICE TO A T0X7K0 UAN. 80. I hope that your taste will keep you aloof from the writingH of those detestable villains, who employ the powers of their mind in debauching the 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,' j^rhaps, 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 pimpt; they ought to be held in universal abhorrence, and never spoken of but with execration. Any appeal to bad passions is to be despised; any appeal to ignorance and prejudice; 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 never have 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 description to which I here allude. The writings of SwxFT have this blemish; and, though he is not a teacher of lewdness^ but rather the contrary, there are oertain 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 libiary of what is called an "iUuttrmu person,'* sold some time ago, there was an immense collection of books of this infamous descrip- tion; and from this circumstance, if ^rom no other, I should have formed my judgment of the character of that person. 81. Bendes reading, a young man ought to write, if >.(>' KEEP A JOURNAL. 89 he have the capacity and the leisnre. If you wish to remember a thing well, put it into writing, even if you bum the paper immediately after yon have done; for the eye greatly asaiste the mind. Memory oonsists of a concatenation of ideas, the place, the time, and other circuroitanoes, lead to the i-ecoUection of facts; and no circumstance more effectually than stating the facts upon paper. A JotntNAL should be kept by every young man. Put down something against every day in the year, if it be merely a description of the weather. You will not have done this for one year without finding the benefit of it It disburdens the mind of many things to be recollected; it is amusing and useful, and ought by no means to be neglected. How often does it happen that we cannot make a statement of fkott, sometimes very interesting to ourselves and our friends, for the want of a record of the places where we were, and of things that occurred on such and such a day ! How often does it happen that we get into disagreeable disputes about things that have passed, and about the time and other circumstances attending them I 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 ^wenty-four hours; and that minute is most agreeably and ad- vantageously employed. It tends greatly to produce regularity in the conducting of affairs; it is a thing demanding a small portion of attention onoe in ewry day; I myself have found it to be attended with great and numerous benefits,. and I. therefore strongly recom- mend it to the practice of every leader. 90 LETTER ni. ADVICE TO ▲ JJOYESL 82. Thebe are two descriptions of lovers on whom all advice would be wasted ; namely, those in whose minds.passion so wholly overpowers reason as to deprive the pariy of his sober senses. Few people are entitled to more compassion than young men thus affected: it is a species <^ insanity that assails them; and when it produces self-destruction, which it does in England more frequently than in all the other countries in the world put together, the mortal remains of the sufferer ought to be dealt with in as tender a manner as that of which the most merciful construction of the law will allow. If Snt Samuel Bomillt's remains were, as they were, im fitct, treated as those oi a person labouring under "temporary/ mental derangementf^ surely the youth who destroys his life '^^^ account of unrequited love, ought to be considerf'd \s mild a light I Snt Samuel was represented, iu the evidence taken before the coroner's jury, to have been incontolaJble for the loss qf his wife; that lug loss had so dreadful an effect upon luB mind that it her^ him of his reason, made life insupportable, and led him to commit the act of suioide; and, on this ground alone, his remains and his estate were rescued from the awful, though just and wise^ sentence c^ the law. But, unfortunately for the repu- tation of the administrationjDf that just and wise law, CASE OF SHITH. 91 there had been, only about two years befoi'e, a poor man, at Manchester, hiaried m eroaa roada^ and tinder circumstanoes which entitled his remains to mercy much more clearly tiban in the case of Sib Samitel BOHILLY. 83. This imfortunate yonth, whose name was Smith, and who was a shoemaker, was in love with a young woman, who, in spite of ati his importunities and his proofs of ardent passion, refused to marry him, aAl even discovered har liking for another; and he, unable to support life, accompanied by the thought of her bdng in possession of anybody but himself, put an end to his life by the means of a rope. If, in any ease, we are to presume the existence of insanity; if, in any case, we are led to believe the thing wUhovi poaiiwe proof; if, in any case, there cac. be an apology in human nature itself, for such an act, — this was that com,* 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 fhode who are endowed with this provident frigidity, know well what youthful love is, and what its torments are, when accompanied by even the smallest portion of jealousy. Every man, and especially every Englishman (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 th^^t of twenty-two; how many times a kind glance has scattered all his reasoning and resolu- tions to the winds; how ma^ny times a oool look hai plunged him into the deepest misery t Poor Smith, i 92 ADVICE TO A LOVER. 9 "wiio was at this age of love and madness, might, surely, be presumed to Lave done the deed in a moment of " tmvpwa/ry menial dercmgemmt.^^ He was an object of compassion in eveiy 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 pronounced to be B.fdo de se, ov sdf-murderer, and his body was put into a hole by the w(^ide, 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 " iemipwwry " menUd derangement,** caused by his grief for the death of his wife! 84. To reason with passion like that of the unfortu- nate Smith, is perfectly useless; you may, with as much chance of success, reason and remonstrate with the winds or the waves : if you make impression, it lasts but for a moment : your effort, like an inadequate stop- page of waters, only adds, in the end, to the violence of the tenant : the current must have and will have its course, be the consequences what they may. In cases not quite so decided, absencef the sight of neiv faces, the sound of new voices, generally 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 I For they look upon it as right that every lover should be a lUUe madduh; 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 & young man less for his having done things foolish and MERCENARY MABniAQES. 93 wild and ridiculous, provided she was fimrty** girls I have liked very well to talk and laugh with; but never, for one moment, did it enter into my mind that I could have endured a " free and "'hearty'* girl for a wife. The thing is, I rapeat, to Utstfor life; it is to he a eounterhalanoe for troubles and misfortunes; and it must, therefore, be perf(9ct, or it had better not be at all. To say that one despises jealousy is foolish : it is a thing to be lamented; but the veiy elements of it ought to be avoided. Gross indeed is the beast, for he is unworthy the name of man; nasty indeed is the wretch, who can even enter- tain a 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 veiy slow to beUeve appearances: and he ought not to decide 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 im- pmniye. If you begbi in grossness; if you couple yourself on to one with whom you have taken liberties^ infidelity is the natural and just consequence. "When m, Peer of the recUmf who had not been over-fortunate in Ids matrimonial affairs, was urging Major Cabtwbioht 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" iti a wife ! The bare use of the two words, thus coupled together, is sufficient to excite disgust. Tet with this "moderate <^asti1y" you must be, and ought to be^ content, if you have entered into marriage OHJUBTITY— BOBRISTY. with one, in whom you have ever discovered the slight- est 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 oAy, or the community, are not to be the sufferers for your gross and corrupt passion. " Modercnte chastity'* is all that you have, in fact, contracted for: you have it, and you have no reason to complain. When I come to address myself to the kushand, 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 families are rendered unhappy from the existence of " moderate chastity," the fault, fii'st or last, has been in the man, ninety-nine times out of every hundred. 91. SoBBiETT. By sobriety I do not mean merely an absence of drvnhing to a state of intoodeation; for, if that be hateful in a man, what must it be in a woman ! There is a Latin proverb which says, that winf^ iM' is to say, intoxication, hrmffs forth trtUh. 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 very moderate 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 presented itself to her. There are cases where ^Ith requires wine, and even small portions of more ardent liquor; but (reserving what I have further to say on this point till I come to the conduct of the husband) yotmg unmarried women can 100 ADVICE TO A I.OVER. s'^ldom stand in need of these stimulants; and, at any rate, only in cases of well-known definite ailments. "Wine ! " only a glass or two of wine at dinner, or bo !•* 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 so;" as soon as have married such a girl, I would have taken a strumpet from the streets, ^^nd it has not required age to give me this way of thinking : it lias always been rooted in my mind from the moment that I began to think the girls prettier than posts. There are few things 80 disgusting as a guzzling woman. A gormandizing one is bad enough ; but one who tips off the liquor with an appetite, and exclaims, " Good! good I" by a smack of her lips, is fit for nothing but a brothel. There may be cases, amongst the Aarc^-labouiing women, such as reapersy for instance, especially when they h^ve children at the breast : there may be cases, where very Aorc^-working women may stand in need of a little good beer, — beer which, if taken in immoderate 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, joume3rmen, and even labourers, to have regularly on their tables the big brewers* poison twice in xjvery day, and at the rate of not less than a pot to a person, women as well as men, as i^e allowance for the day. A pot of poison a-day, at five- pence the pot, amounts to seveti pounds and two shil- lings in the yearl Man and wife suck down, in this SOBRIETY OF CONDUCT. 101 way, fowrUefn powida/our shiUinga 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 1 92. But by the word Sobriety, in a young woman, I mean a great deal more than even a rigid abstinence from that love of drink which I am not to suppose, and which I do not believe, to exist anything like generally amongst the young women of this country. I mean a great deal more than this ; I mean sobriety of conduct The word «o6er, and its derivatives, do not confine> themselves to matters of drink; they express steadinesa^ aeriousneaSf car-ifvlness, acrupuloxia propriety 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 schwl" And when we wish a team, or anything to be moved on steadily and with great care, we cry out to the carter or other operator, " Soberly, soberly.*^ Now, this species of sobriety is a great quali- fication in the pei'son you mean to make your wife. Skipping, capering, romping, rattling girls are very amusing, where all costs and other consequences are out of the question; and they may become 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, tiiey are. to play and romp like children. But when they arrive at that age which turns their thoughts towards that sort of connection which is to be theirs for life; when they begin to think of having the command 102 ABTICE TO A LOVER. of a house, however small or poor, it is time for them to cast away the levity of the child. It is natural, 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 m&rried an old one) who I was not sure possessed cdl 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 terminated without my having performed a thou- sandth 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 surprise, that I was " always in spirits;" that nothing pulled me doim; and the truth is, that, throughout nearly forty years of troubles, losses, and crosses, assailed all the while by more numerous and powerful enemies than ever man had before to contend with, and performing, at the same time, labours greater than man ever before per- formed, — all those labours requiring mental exertion, and some of them mental 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 real anxiety; the troubles have been no troubles to me; I have not known what loumess qf spirits meaned; have been more gay, and felt less care, than any bachelor that ever lived. " You are always in spirits, Cobbettl" To be suw; for why should I not) Poverty I have always set at d;efiance, and I TRUSTWORTHINESS AND FI1|BLITT. 103 oould) therefore, defy the temptations of riclieB; and, aa to hxMm and children^ I had taken care to providfr myself with an inexhaustible store of that *^ sobriety^ which I am so strongly recommending my reader to provide himself with ; or, if he cannot do that, to deli- berate long before he ventures on the life^nduring matrimonial voyage. This sobriety is a title to tnut^ worthineaa; and thiSf young man, is the treasure thob 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 JiddUy 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 urdocked, and who is not awrBf quite certain, that all is as safe as if grasped in his own hand. He is the happy husband, who can go awaj 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, anything wrong than he would fear a discontinuance 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 proper order, and the room, during the lucky interval, freed from the efiects of his and his ploughman's or gai^dener's diiiiy shoes. Such a mani has no reed cvrea; such a man has no trovblea; and this is the sort of life that I have led. I have had all the numerous and indescribable delights of home and chil- dren, and, at the snme time, all the bachelor's freedom from domestic cares : and to this cause, far more thaa 104 AfVICE TO ▲ LOVEB. to any oth^r,. my readers owe those labours, which I never could have performed, if even the slightest de- gree of want of confidence at home had ever once entered into my mind. 93. But, in order to possess this precious tntstworthi- ness, you must> if you can, exercise your reason In the choice of your pai-tner. If she be vain of her person, very fond of her dress, fond oi flattery^ at all given to gadding about, fond of what are called parties of piea- surSf or coquettish, though in the least degi'ee; if either of these, she never will be trustworthy; she cannot change her nature; and if you marry her, you will be unjust if you expect trustworthiness at her hands. But, besides this, even if you find in her that innate " sobriety" of which I have been speaking, there I'equii'es on your part, and that at once, too, confidence 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 you 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 All women despise jealous men; and, if they marry such, their motive is other than that of afieotion. Therefora, begin by proofs of unlimited confidence; and, as exampU may serve to assist precept, and as I never have preached that which I have not practised, I will give you the history of my ^ own conduct in this respect. • 94. When I fii-st saw my wife, she was tidrteen years old, and I waa within about a month of twenty-one. THE AUTHOB's courtship. 105 She was the daughter of a sergeant of artillery, and I vras the sergeant-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 same room with her for about an hour, in company with othera, and I made up my mind that she was the very girl for me. That I thought her beautiful is certain, for that I had always said should be an indispensable qualification; but I saw in her what I deemed marks of that sobriety of conduct of which I have said so much, and which has been by far ths ^eatest blessing of my life. It was now dead of winter, and, of course, the snow several feet deep on the ground, and the weather 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 invi- tation to breakfast with me, got up two young men to join me in my walk; and our road lay by the house of her father and mother. It was hardly light, 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 York- shire — 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 surprised ; but what was his sur- prise when I told' him that those tall you^g men whom he saw around me were the SQna of that pi*etty little girl that he and I saw scrubbing out the washing-tub on the mow in New Brunswick at daybreak in the morning I /' / 106 ASnriCE TO A LOYEB. 95. From the day that I first spoke to her, I never had a thought of her ever being the wife of any othev^ man, more than I had a thought of her being tranch formed into a chest of drawera; and I formed my resolution at once, to marry her as soot as we could get permission, and to get out of the army as soon as 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 Fbedebicktox, a distance of a hundred miles up the river of St. John ; and, which waa worse, the artillery was 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 iinpleasant to her, and I did not like, besides, that she s^LOuld continue to work hmd. I had saved a hundred and fifty guineas, the earnings of my early hours, in writing for the paymaster, the quartermaster, and others, in addition to the savings of my own pay. / sent Iter all my money befoi'e she sailed; and wrote to her, to beg of her, if she found her home uncomfortable, to hire a Iddging with respectable people : and, at any rate, not to spare the money, by any means, but to buy 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. THE AUTHOB S COUBTSHIP. 107 96. As the malignity of the devil would have it, we were kept abroad two yeoffs longer than our time, Ms. 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 fowr yecMTSf however, home I came, landed at Portsmouth, and got my discharge from the army by the great kindness of poor Lord Edwaed Fitzgerald, who was then the major of my regiment. I found my little girl a servant of all work (and hard work it was), at Jive pounds a>-year, in the house of a Captain Bbisac; and, without hardly saying a word about the matter, she put into my hands the whole of my hvmdred and fifty guinea* unbrokmi! 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 effect 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-gratulation 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 cir- cumstances, have acted as my wife did in this case; on the contrary, I hope, and do sincerely believe, that there are. But when Itar age is considered; when we reflect thiit she was living in a place crowded, litettdly crowded^ with gaily-dressed and handsome young men, 108 ADVICE TO A LOVEn. many of whom really far richer and in higher rank than' I was, and scores of them tea.dj to offer her their hand ; wifaen we reflect that she was living amongst young women who put upon their backs every shilliug that they could 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 fourteen to eiglUeen years qf age; when we view the whole of the circumstances, we must say that here is an example which, while it reflects hon- ijur 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 «o6r}0^|^ of cotiduct in young women must be accompanied with seriousness approaching to gloom, 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 insipid of souls ; so amongst women, the gay, the rattling, and laughing, are, unlesi some party of pleasure, or something out of domestic life, is going on, generally in the dumps and blue-devils. Some stimulus is always craved after by this description of women; some sight to be seen, something to see or hear other than what is to be found ai home, which, as it affords no incitement, nothing " to raise and keep up ** the spirits, * is looked upon merely as a place to be a^ for want of a better; merely a place for eating and \ drinking, and the like; merely a biding-plaoe, whence to sally in search of enjoyments. A greater curse than a wife of this description it would be somewhat rai OHIERFUL WIFE. 109 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 fuoh a thing for a tingle month. The mopers are, too, all giggle at other times; the gaiety is for others, and the moping 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, as if rehearsing a jig; and the next^ sighing to the motion of a lazy needle, or weeping over a novel : and this is called smtimeiUf Music, indeed ! Give me a mother singing to her clean and &t and rosy baby, and making the house ring with her extravagant and hyperbolical encomiums on it. That is the muslo which is ** tlie food of love,'' 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. Let any man observe, as I so frequently have with delight, the excessive fondness of the labouring people 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 preparing the bit of dinner. Let him observe them both abstaining from a sufficiency, lest Uie chil- dren should feel the pinchings of hunger. Let him ob- serve, in short, the whole of their demeanour, the real mutual alfeetion, evinced, not in words, but in unequi- vocal deedSi Lot him obseiTe these things, and, having 110 ADTlOE TO A LOTEB. then oftit a look at the lives of the great and wealthy, lie will my, with me, that when a man is choosing his partner for life, the dread of poverty ought to be cast to the wind«. A labourer's cottage, on a Sunday; the husband or wife having a baby in arms, looking at two or three older ones playing between the flower^borders gohig from the wicket to the door, is, according to my taite, the most interesting object that eyes ever beheld; and it is an object to be beheld in no country upon earth bnt in England. In France, a labourer's cottage means a shed with a dimg hea/p before the door; 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 tiie wife with the baby in her arms, the husband teaeMng another child to walk, while four more were at play before them. I stopped and looked at them Ibr some time, and then, turning my horse, rode up to the wicket, getting into talk by asking the distance to Horsham« I fotmd that the man worked chiefly in the woods, and that he was doing pretty well. The wife was then only Ujoenty-4wo, and the man only twenJby-five. She was a pretty woman, even for SttaseXy which, not excepting Lancashire, contains the prettiest women in England He was a very fine and stout young man. ** Wlajf** said I, *'how many diildren do you reckon to "have at lastr— " I do not care how many," said the man : " God never sends mouths without sending ** metkt** ** Did you ever hear," said I, " of one Parson (t, tt ANTI-MALTHUflL 111 « Malthus?"— " No, sir." "Why, if he were to hear *' of your works, he would be outrageous; for he wants "an act of parliament to prevent poor people from « marrying young, and from having such lots of chil- " dren." — " Oh ! 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 parish; and upon his answeiing 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 I was going to stay awhile, and gave him all the rest. Now, is it not a shame, is it not a sin of all sins, that people like these should, by acts of the Government, be reduced to such misery as to be induced to abandon theii* homes and their country, to seek, in a foreign land, the means of preventing themselves and their children from stmringl And this %as been, and now is, actually the case with many such fEuniUes in this same county of Sussex ! 100. An arderU-minded young man (who, by the- by, will, as I am afraid, have been wearied by this rambling digression) may fear that this great sobriety of condtust in a young woman, for which I have been so strenuously contending, argues a want of that wa/rmih which he naturally so much d^res; and if my observa- tion and experience warranted the entertaining of this fear, I should say, had I to live my Pfe over again, give me the warmithy and I will stand my chance as to the rest. But this observation and this experience tell me the contrary; they tell me that levity is, ninety- rine times out of a hundied, the companion of a want 112 ▲DYICE TO A LOYEn. of ardeni /eelinff. Prostitutes never love, and, for the far greater part, never did. Their passion, which is more mere animal than anything else, is easily grati- fied; 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 ardent passion; love is a mere name, xmless con- fined to one object ; and young women, in whom levil^ of conduct is observable, will not be thus restricted. I do not, however, recommend a young man to he too severe in judging, where the conduct does not go be* yond Tnere levity , and is not bordering on loose conduct ; for something here depends upon constitution and ani- mal spirits, and something also upon the manners of the countiy. 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 acquaintance 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 direction, the other in a downward direction, raising herself upon one foot, lean- ing her body on one side, and thus throwing herself into a flying attitude, answered 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, vaudeviUe, in the play of Figaro: — " Si I'ainour a des atVei, K'est'Ce pas pour voA^erf XND170TR7. H« 113 that is, if love has winga, ii it not tofluiUer abovl with % The wit, argument/and mannefi all together, silenced me. She, after I left France, married a very worthj man, has had a large family, and has been, 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: steadiness is the rule, and levity the exception. Love may voUige in France; but in England it cannot, with safety to the lover : and it iii a truth which, I believe, no man of attentive observa- tion will deny, that, as, in general, English wives are more wcmn in their conjugal attachments than those of France, so, with regard to individuals, ihat those English women who are the most ligJU in their man- ners, and who are the least comtant in their attach- ments, have the smaHest portion of that warmtht that indescribable passion which Ood has given to human beings as the great counterbalance to all the sorrows and sufferings of life. 101. Industry. By industry f I do not mean merely lahoriousness — 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 lazf/ ladvesy as well as lazy fanners' and tradesmen's wives. There is no state of life in which industxy in a wife is not necessary to the happiness and prosperity of the family, at the head of the household aflkirs of which she is placed. If she be lazy there will be lazy servants, and which is a great deal worse, children ha'bitually lazy: everything, however necessary to be done, will be pub off to the H 114 ADYICE TO A LOVER. last moment : then it will be done badly, and in many cases not at all; the dinner will be too IcUe; the journey or the visit will be tardy; inconveniences of all sorts will be continually arising: there will always be a heavy a/rrear of things unperformed; and this, even amongst the most wealthy of all, is a great curse; for if they have no bttsiness imposed upon them by neces- sity, 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 who is to tell whether a girl will make an industrious woman? How is the purblind lover espe- cially, to be able to ascertain whether she, whose smiles and dimples, and bewitching lips have half be- reft him of his senses ; how is he to be able to judge, from anything that he can see, whethejr the beloved object will be industrious or la^? Why, it is very difficult : it is a matter that reason has very little to do with; but there ai*e, nevertheless, certain outward and visible signs, from which a man, not wholly de- prived of the use of his reason, may form a pretty accurate judgment as to this matter. It was a story in Philadelphia, 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 othera, "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 too well SIGNS OF LAZINSSS. 115 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 satii^ed her when single, it was reasonable 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 are, however, certain outward signs, which, if attended to with care, will sei-ve as pretty sure guides. And, first, if you find the tongue 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 absence of talk, for that is, in most cases, very good ; but I mean a slow and soji utterance; a sort of sighing out of the words instead of speaking them ; a sort of letting the sounds full out, as if the party were sick at stomach. The pronunciation of an industrious person is generally quick, distinct, and the voice, if not strong, ^r«* at the least. Not masculine;' as feminine as possible; not a croak nor a bawl, but a quick, distinct, and sound voice. Nothing is much more disgusting than what the sensible country people call a maw-mouthed woman. 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 disgusting of mates. In this whole world nothing is much more hateful than a female's under-jaw huily moving up and down, and IIG APVIGE TO A LOVER. 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 woman for any length of time. 104. Look a little, also, at the labours of the teeth, for these correspond with those of the other members of the body, and with the operations of the mind. " Quick at meals, quick at work,** is a saying as old as the hills, in this, the most industrious nation upon earth; and never was there a truer spying. 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 ! How- ever, though she must sit as long as the rest, and though she join in the performance (for it is a real perform- ance) 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 order to fill up the time ; but when she does bite, she cannot well 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 re- ject it; if she deal with it thus, set her down as being, in her very nature, incorrigibly lazy. Never mind the pieces of needlework, the tambouring, the maps of tho world made by her needle. Get to see her at work upon a mutton-chop, or a bit of bread and cheese; and if she deal quickly with these, you have a pretty good secui'ity for that activity, that stirring industry, with- MARKS OF INDUSTRY. 117 out whicli a wife is a burden instead of being 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 heavy tread, showing that the foot con?es down with a hearty good mil; and if the body lean a little forward, and the eyes keep steadily in the sarpe 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 aamiter- ingf soft-stepping girls, who move as if they were per^^ fectly indifferent as to the result; and, as to the lov^- part of the story, whoever expects ardent and lasting affection from one of these sauntering girls, will, when too late, find bis mistake : the character runs the samo- 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 no stoi*e of those blessings which are the natural resources to apply to in sickness and in old ago. 106. Early rising is another mark of industry; and though, in the higher situations of life, it may be of no> importance in a mere pecuniary point of view, it is, eve» there, of importance in other resi^ects; for it is, I should imagine, pretty difficult to keep love alive towaiMls a woman, who never sees the dew, never beholds the rising sun, and who constantly comes directly fromr a reeking bed to the breakfast table, and there ohewa about without appetite the choicest morsels of human ll8- > AfXyiCE TO JL iOYER, food. A man xnignt, perhaps, endure this for a month or two, without being 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 wife 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 habU; she will, when married, never want excuses for indulging in the habit; at first she will be indulged without bounds; to make a cJuinge afterwards will be difficult; it will be deemed a wrong 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 Iiarsh ^ is it being hard upon women 1 Is it the ofifspring of the frigid severity of age ? It is none of these : it arises from an ardent desire to promote the happiness, and to add to the natural, legitimate, and salutary 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 beloved to the last day of their lives; and to give them, during the whole of those lives, weight and consequence, of which laziness would render them wholly unworthy. 107. FRt^OALiTT. This means the contrary of exfroh vayance. 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 unnecessari/ FBtStifALtTT. m expenditure, and all imnecessary iras <^ goods of any and of eveiy sort; and a quality of great importance it is, whether the rank in life be high or low. Some people are, indeed, so rich, they have such an over* abundance of money and goods, that how to get rid of them would, to a looker-on, Mem to be their only difficulty. But while th inconvenience 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 strawberries 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-dozen peerages amalgamated into one possession, sh^ would, with 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 aristocracy. How many noblemen and gentlemen of fine estates have been ruined and degraded by the extravagance of their wives! More frequently by their oum extravagande, perhaps; but, in numerous 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 especially araoDgst that description of persons whose lirives have,, in many cases, the receiving as well as the expending of money. In such a case, there wants nothing but 120 ADVICE TO A LOVEK. 6xt#ayagance m the wife to make rain as sure as the aiTLval of old age. To obtain seaimty against this i» very difficult ; yet, if the lover he not quUe blindy he n)iy easily discover a propensity towards extravagance. The object of his addresses will, nine times out of ten, not be ihe manager of a house; but she must have her dresSf and other little matters under her control. If she be costly 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 uiseful, 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 ho 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 s{>are his purse when once she gets her hand into it; and, there- fore, if he can bid adieu to her charms, the sooner he does it the better. 109. The outward and visible and vulgar signs of extravagance are rings, brooches, bracelets, buckles, neck- laces, diamonds (real or mock), and, in short, all the hardware which women put upon their persons. These things may be proper enough in palaces, or in scenes resembling palaces; but when they make their appear- ance 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 CLtLAlllt^iirESS. im rank of life, tbey are the sure indications of a disposi- tion that will cdvjaya he straining at tfjhai it can nsver 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 Equipage than you can give her; and as long a» this is the case, you will never have rer+. Beason would tell her that she could never be at the top; that she must stop at some point short of that ; and that, therefore, all expenses in the rivalship are so much thrown away. But reason and brooches and bracelets do not go in company: the girl who has not the sense to perceive that her person is disfigured, and not beau- tified, by parcels of brass and tin (for they are generally little better) and other hardware, stuck about her body; the gui that is so foolish as not to perceive, that when silks and cottons and cambrics, in 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; fov there never yet was, and there never will be, love of long duration, sincere and ardent love, in any man towards a "JUthy mate,** — 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 122 ADVICE TO A LOVJSn. and even contentedly, with dirtj, sluttinh women; for there are some who seem to like the filth well enough. But what I contend for is this, that there never can exist, for any length of time, a/rdmt affacHon 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 persons; 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 th^ir wives, who must still have charms; and charms and filth do not go together. 111. It is not dress that the husband wants to be perpetual : it is noi finery; but cUanlimas is everything; The French women dress enough, especially when they mlly forth. My excellent neighbour, Mr. Johv Tbed- WELL, of Long Island, used to say that the French were " pigs in the parlour and peacocks on the promenade;'* an alliteration which "Canniko's BELf" might have envied! This occasional cleanliness is not the thiD,<; that an English or an American husband wants : h 9 wants it always: indoors as well ac out; by night as well as by day; on the floor as well as on the table; and, however he may grumble about the ^'fuaa'* and the *^^pense^* of it, he would grumble more if he had it not. I once saw a picture representing the amuaermnta 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 affe(S tionately engaged in hunting down and kilUng tJa vermin in his head! This was, perhaps, an exaggera- nam oi^dXANLmEss. 133 tion; but that it thould have had the shadow of foundaiioD, wot enough to fill me -with contempt for the whole nation. 112, The tignt of cleanliness are, in the first place, a clean ikin, 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 ladie«; of all ages. An English girl will have her face clean, to be sure, if there be soap and water within her reach; bttt get a glance, just a glance, at her poll, if ^ou have any doubt upon the subject; and if jovk find there, or heMnd the ea/rs, what the Yorkshire people call gri/me^ the sooner you cease your visits the better, I hope now, that no young woman will be offended at this, and think me too severe on her sex. I am only ffaying, I am only telling the women, that which (dl mm think; and it is a decided advantage ta them to be fully informed of our Hioughts on the sub- ject. 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 drest you can, amongst rich people, find little whereon to form a judgment as to cleanliness, because they have not only the dress prepared for them, but pti4 vpon them into the bargain. But in the" middle rank of life, the dress is a good criterion in two respects; first, as to its colcntr; for if the white be a sort of yellov}, cleanly liauds would have been at work to prevent that. A white-ydlow cravat, or shirt, on a man, speakx at once the character of his wife; and, be you assuredi that she will not take with your dress I2i ADVICE TO A LOVER. i>/ paim whicli «1ie has never taken with her o^vn. Then the manner o{ putting on the dress is no bad foundation Hmt Judging. If it be careless, slovenly, if it do not fit properly— no matter for its mean gualUy: mean as it may be, it may be neatly and trimly put on; and if it be not, take care of yourself; for fs you will soon find to your cost, a sloven in one thing is a sloven in all thingi. The country people judge greatly from the fitate of the covering of the ankles, 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 run down at the heel, it is a very bad sign; and, as to slip-shod, 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 inattention to these matters t Men, in general, say nothing about it to their wives; but they think about it; they envy their luckier neighbours; and, in numerous cases, con- sequences 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 end» but with life itself. I dismiss this part of my subject with a quotation from my " Yearns Residence 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 woman is the nastiest '' thing Id nature." KNOWLSOOE OF DOMESTIC AFFAIB8. 125 115. Knowledqe of Domestic Affaibs. Without more or less of this knowledge, a ladyt 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 affairs of a gi'eat family never can be well managed, if lefb wlwlly to hirelings; and there are many parts of these af&irs in which it woiild be unseemly for the husband to meddle. Surely, no lady can be too high in rank to make it proper for her to be well acquainted with the character and general demeanour of all the femal(|. ser- vants. To receive and give them characters is too much to be left to a servant, however good, and of service however 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 and precepts 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 whait you like, is still a fdlow- aervardf it does appear strange that they should forego the performance of this at once important and pleasing part of their duty. It was from the mansions of noblemen and gentlemen, and not from boarding- schools, that farmers and tradesmen formerly took their wives; and though these days are gone, with 126 ADVICE TO A LO^^B. 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 knowledge of doTr^estic affairs is so necessary in every wife, that the lover ought to have it continually in his eye. Not only a knowledge of these affairs, — not only to know how things ought to he done, but how to do theMj — not only to know what ingredients ought to be put into a pie or a pudding, but to be able to make the pie «r the pudding. Young people, when they come together, ought not, unless they have fortunes, or are in a great way of business, 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 ihe husband, have much more to say upon this subject of hewing servants; but what the lover, if he be not quite blind, has to look to, is, that his intended wife know how to do the work of a house, unless he have fortune sufficient to keep her like a lady. "Eating " and drinking," as I observe in " Cottage Economy,** come thfee tim^s every day: they must come; and how- ever little we may, in the days of our health and vigour, care about choice food and about cookery, we very soon get tired oi heavy or burnt bread, and of spoiled PERFORMANCB OF DOM^RTIO AFFAIRS. 127 joints of meat : we bear them for a time, or for two, perhaps, but about the third time, we lament mwcurdly; about the fifth time, it must bd an extraordinary honeymoon that will keep us from complaining : if the like continue for a month 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 unfortunately-educated creature, whose parents are more to blame than she, is, unless she resolve to learn her duty, doomed to lead a life very nearly approaching to that of misery; for, however considerate the husband, he never can esteem her i^i he would have done, had she been skilled and able in domestic afiairs. 118. The mere manvxd performance of domestic labours is not, indeed, absolutely necessary in the female head of the family of professional men, such as lawyers, d otors, and parsons; but, even here, and also in the case of great merchants, and of gentlemen living on their fortunes, surely the head of the household ought to be able to give directions as to the purchasing of meat, 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 depart- ment, nothing shall be seen inconsistent with the rank, station, and character of her husband, who, if he have a skilful and industrious wife, will, unless he be of a / X2S ADVICE TO A LOVEB. singularly foolish turn, gladly leave all these things to her absolute dominion, controlled only by the extent of the whole expenditure, of which he must be the best, and, indeed, the sole judge. 11 3. But, in a farmer's or a tradesman's family, the mamujil performance is absolutely necessary, 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 famous French com- mander, that, in attacking an enemy, he did not say to his men " Go on," but, " Come on;" and whoever have well observed the movements of servants, must know what a prodigious diflference there is in the effect of the words go and come, A very good rule would be, to have nothing to eat in a farmer's or tradesman's house that the mistress did not know how to prepare and cook; no pudding, taii;, pie, or cake, that she did not know how to make. Never fear the toil to her : exer- cise is good for health ; and without liealth there is no heavJby; 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 housewife seldom fails to enjoy I 120. Yet, if a young farmer or tradesman niarry a girl who has been brought up to play music, to what is called ^rato, to sing, to waste paper, pen, and ink, in wilting long and half-romantic letters, and to see shows, and plays, and read novels; if a young man do mari'y such an unfortunate young creature, let him ABSUBDITT OP USELESS ACQUIREMENTS. 129 bear the consequences with temper; let him be 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 reflect that he has taken her, being apprized of her inatiility; 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 accom- plished, he is unjust and cruel and unmanly, 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-school education, and without a fortune to enable her to keep a servant when married. Of what use are her accomplishments? Of what use her music, her drawing, and her romantic epistles? If she be good in her nature^ the first 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 instance 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 ]bhere found also his wife, with hsc baby, and she, who had never, before her marriage, known what it was to get water to wash her own 130 ADVICE TO A LOVER. liands, 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 mitgio and all the drawing^ and all the plays and romances, were gone to the winds! The husband and baby had fairly supplanted them; and even this prison-scene was a blessing, as it gave her, at this early stage, an oppor- tunity of proving her devotion to her husband, who, though I have not seen him for about fifteen yeara, he being in a part of America which I could not reach when last there, has, I am sure, amply repaid her for that devotion. They have now a numerous family (not less than twelve children, I believe), and she is, I am told, a most excellent and able mistress of a respectable house. 122. But this is a rare instance: the husband, like his countrymen in general, was at once brave, humane, gentle, and considerate; and the love was so sincere and ardent on both sides, that it made losses and sufferings appear as nothing. When I, in a sort of half-whisper, asked Mbs. Dickens where her 'pano was, she smiled, and turned her face towards her baby that was sitting on her knee; as much as to say, " This little fellow has "beafcen the piano;" and if what I 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 tlM lea.it diminished, and which will be an inmate of my heart until it shall cease to beat. 123. The like of this is, howe '"r, not to be expected: VALUE OF BEAL ACQUIREMENTS. 131 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 hdp to ea/m 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 quali- fied 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 greatest advantage; by wasting nothing; by making the table sufficiently abundant with the least expense. And how is she to do these things unless she have been brougJU up to understand domestic affairs) How is she to do these things if she have been taught 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 jhem 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 calling or state of life naturally supposes you to understand. A ploughman is not an ignorawt man because he does not knoiv how to read : if he knows how to plough, he is not to be called. an ignorant man; but a wife may bo justly called an ignorant woman if she does not know how to provide e. dinner for her husband. It is a cold 132 ADVICE TO A LOVEB. comfort for a hungry man to tell him how delightfully his wife plays and sings : 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-cocked victuals, a house in order, and a cheerful fire, will do more in preserving a husband's heart, than all the " accomplishments " taught in all the ." establishments" 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, interpreted into the contrary. By " good temper" I do not mean easy temper, a serenity which nothing disturbs, for that is a mark of laziness. Svlkiness, if you be not too blind to perceive i1^ is a temper to be avoided by all means. A sulky man is bad enough ; what, then, must be a sulky woman, and that woman a ivife; 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 sure that, in this respect, marriage will not mend her. Sulkiness arises from capricious displea- sure, displeasure not founded on reason. The party takes offence ^nvjustifiably, is unable to frame a com- QUERULOUSNESS — PERTINACITT. 133. a plaint, and therefore expresses displeasure by silence. The remedy for sulkiness is, to suffer it to take its fviXL smng; but it is better not to have the disease in youp house; and to be married to it is little short of madness. 126. Querulovsness is a great fault. No man, and especially, no womanj likes to hear eternal plaintive- ness. That she complain, and roundly complain, of your want of punctuality, of your coolness, of your neglect, of yoiu* liking the company of others : these are all very well, more especially as they are frequently but too just. But an everlasting complaining, without rhyme or reason, is a bad sign. It shows want of patience, and, indeed, want of sense. But the con- trary of this, a cold indifference^ is still worse. "When" " will you come again ? You can never find time to- "come here. You like any company better than "mine." These, when groundless, are very teazing,. and demonstrate a disposition too full of anxiousnessf but from a girl who always receives you with the same* dvil smile, lets you, at your own good pleasure, deimrt 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 anybody, and especially in a young woman ; and it is sure to in- crease 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 134 ADVICE TO A LOVER. it in the maid, it will become a pound in the wife. An etemal disputer is a most disagreeable companion; and where young women thrust their sai/ into conversations carried on by older persons, give their opinions in a positive manner, 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 melanr choly ladies have the worst, unless you have the same mental disease. Most wives are, at times, misery- makers; but these carry it on as a regular trade. They are always unhappy about something, either past, pre- sent, or to come. Both arms full of children is a pretty efficient remedy in most cases; but if the ingredients be wanting, a little warUy 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, the best way is to avoid a connection which is to give you a life of wailing and sighs. 129. Bbautt. 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 ski-n- **(leep;" and this is very true; but it is very agree' able, though, for all that. Pictures a.re 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- h&ndsome daughter. " Please your eye and plague your " heart," is an adage that want of beauty invented, I BEAUTY, 135 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 argu- ment is, that beauty exposes the possessor to greater temptation than women mot beautiful are exposed to; and that, there/ore, 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 tetnptation 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 1 And as to women in the married state, this aigument assumes, that when they fall, it is from their own vicious disposition; when the fact is, that, if you search tbe annals of conjugal infidelity, you will find that, nine cases out of ten, the /emit is in the husband. It is his neglect, his flagrant disregard, his frosty in- difference, his foul example ; it is to these that, nine times out of ten, he owes the infidelity of his wife ; and if I were to say ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the facts, if verified, would, I am certain, bear me out. And whence this neglect, this disregard, this frosty indifference; whence this foul example 1 Because it is easy, in so many cases, to find some 136 ADVICE TO A IiOVEH. woman more beautiful than the wife; Thia is no Justin ficcUion for the husband to plead ; for he has, with his eyes open, made a solemn contmcfc : if she have not beauty enough to please him, he should have sought it in some other woman : if, as is frequently the case, he have preferred rank or money to beauty, he is an un- ][^rincipled man, if he do anything to make her unhappy who has brought hiA the rank or the money. At any rate, as conjugal infidelity is, in so many oases ; 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 con- vince any reasonable man, that beautiful women will be lens expensive in this respect than women of a con- trary description. Experience teaches us, that \igly 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 1 132. As to manners and temper, there are certainly some handsome women who are conceited and arrogant; 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 Ml BEAUTY. 137 the first gUnco, are dull, inaniiiate things, that might as well have bee :nade of wax, or of wood. But the truth is, that this is not bemUy, for this is not to be found orUi/ in the form of the features, but in the move- ments of th@m also. Besides, 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 %earable as in the latter. 133. But th0 great use of female beauty, the great practical advantage of it is, that it naturally and unavoidably tends to keep the Imaband in good hwmour tvUh Iwmilif-^i^ make him, to use the dealer's phrase, pleased with his bargain. When old age approaches> 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 together by the titrongest ties that nature has in store, — at this age the features and the person are of less consequence; but in the yowng da/yt of matrimony, when the roving eye of the baclielor is scarcely become steady in the head of the husband, it is dangerous 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 matter oi 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 ho perceives tliat a portion, at least, of these things are in his own possession : he takes this possession as a com- plinimt to Ivi/inMilif: there must, iie will think the world ;'T 138 ADVICE TO A LOYEB. yriW believe, hare been atyme m&rU in him — some charm, ieen or unneen, 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 circumstances, perfectly namelesSf to communicate to the new-married man the Ibct, that it is not a real aTigel of whom he has got the possession; there are so many things of this eort, so many and such powerful dampers of the pasiions, and so many incentives to cool reflection, that it requires something, and a good deal too, to keep the husband in countenance in this his altered and enlight- ened state. The passion of women does not cool so soon; the lamp of their love bums more steadily, and oven brightens as it bums; and there is, the young man may be assured, a vast difference in the effect of the fondness of a pretty woman and that of one of a different 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, 13d. To be sure, when a man has, from whatever inducement, once married a woman, he is unjust and cruel if he even slighi 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 falls 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 CONSTANCY. 139 is to.be done in no other way, than by not marrying any one that you do not tJiink hcmdaome. 136. I must not conclude this address to the Lover 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 description; and where a man goes coolly and deliberately to work, first to gain and rivet the affections of a young girl, then to take advan- tage of those affections 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 unfeeling brute, unworthy of the name of man, or he must have a heart little inferior, in point of obdur- acy, to that of the murderer. Let young women, however, be aware; let them be well aware, that few, indeed, are the oases in which this apology can possibly avail them. Their character is not solely theirs, but belongs, in part, to their family and kindred. They may, in the case contemplated, be objects of compassion with the world; but what contrition, 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 supplant I 140 ADVICE TO A LOVER. another in their affections, not only without criminality in the party experiencing the change, but without blame ; and it is honest, and even humane, 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 promised^ and that, too, in the most solemn manner, it is better for both parties to bi-eak off, than to be coupled together with the reluctant assent of either; and I have always thought, that actions 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 would have yielded by a sort of compulsion, producing to almost a certainty what Hogarth, in his Marriage ^ la Mode, most aptly typifies by two curs, of different sexes, fastened together by what sportsmen call coupleSf pulling different ways, and snarling and barking and foaming like furies. 138. But when promises have been made to a young woman ; when they have been relied on for any consid- erable time; when it is manifest that her peace and happiness, and, perhaps, her life, depend 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 the disappointment as supportable as the case will admit of; for though it is better to break the promise than to marry one while INOONSTAXCy. 141 you like another better; though it is better for both parties, you have no right to break the heart of her who has, and that, too, with your own accordance, and, indeed, at your instigation, or, at least, by your encour- agement, confided it to your fidelity. You cannot help your change of affections ; but you can help making the ti*ansfer 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 execut- ing the painful task ; you ought scrupulously to avoid everything calculated to aggravate the sufferings of the disconsolate party. 139. A striking, a monstrous instance of conduct the 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 hint 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 anything could wipe from our, country the stain of having given birth to a monster so barbarous as this, it would be the abhorrence of him which the juiy expressed; and f^ U2 ADVICE TO A LOTEB. whioli, firom every tongue, he ought to hear to the last moment of his life. 140. Nor has a man any right to sport with the affeotions of a young woman, though he stop short of positive promises. Yanily is generally the t^npter in this case; a desire to be regarded as being admired by the women : a very despicable species of vanity, but £requ«itly greatly mischievous, notwithstanding. Tou do not, indeed, actually, in so many words, promise to many; but the general tenor of your language and deportment has that meaning; you know that your meaning is so uiderstood; 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, persevere, in spite of the admonitions of consdenoe, you are guilty of deliberate deception, injustice, and cruelty: you make to God an ungrateful return for those endowments which have enaUed you to J^eve this inglorious and unmaiily triumph; and if, as is frequently the case, you glory in such triumidi, you may have peiflon, riches, talents to excite envy; but every just and humane man will abhor your * heart 1 41. There are, however, certain cases in which you deceive, or nearly deceive, youra^; cases in which you are, by degrees and by drcumstances, deluded into aomething very nearly resembling sincere love for ya second object, the first still, however, maintaining her ground in your heart; oases in which you are not THE At7TH0B*S EXFERIEKCE. 143 actuated by vanity, in which you are not gtiilly of injustice and cruelty; but cases in which you, never- theless, do torong: and as I once did a wrong of this sort myBclf, I will here give you a histoiy of it, as a warning to every young man who shall read thic little book; that being the best and, indeed, the only atone- ment, that I can make, or ever could have made, for this only serums sin that I ever committed against the finnale 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 general, 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 burned down^ the bushes of the raspberry or those of the huckleberry. The province is cut asunder lengthwise 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 inin innumerable smaller rivers, there called CREEKS. On the sides of these creeks the land is, in places, dear of rocks; it is, in these places, generally good and productive; the trees that grow here are the bhrch, 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 waterfalls 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 gayiost plumage, flutter, in lU ADVICE TO A LOVEB. 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 everything to delight the eye, and especially of one like me, who seem to have been bom to love rural lite, and trees and plants of all sorts. Here were about two hundred acres of natural meadow, interspersed with patches of maple-trees in vanous forms and of various extent; the creek (there about thirty miles from its point of joining the St. John) i.an down the middle of the spot, which formed a sort of dish, the high and rocky hills rising all round 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 season, salmon, the finest in the world, and bo abundant, and so easily taken, as to be used for manuring the land. 114. If Nature, in her very best humour, had mad« a spot for the express purpose of captivating me, she could not have exceeded the efforts which she had here made. But I found something here besides th(»o rudo works of nature ; I found something in the fashioning of which man had had somtfthing to do. I found a lai^e and ^ell-built log dwelling-house, standing (in the THE author's EXPERIEirClB. Ii6 month of September) on the edge of a very good field of Indian Com, by the side of which there was a piece of buckwheat just then mowed. I fou'id a homestead, and some very pretty cows. I found all the things by which an easy and happy farmer m suiTOunded; and I found still something besides all these — something 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 yea:ra, now make an attempt to.i-ush back into my heart. lis, "Paxily from misinformation, and partly from \ miscalculation, I had lost my way; and, quite alone, but armed with my sword and a brace of pistols, to I defend myself against the beats, I arrived at the log- houPA 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 something to eat, and put me into a feather-bed — a thing that I had been a stranger to for some years. I, being very tired, haA tried to pass the night in the woods, between the trunks of two largo 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 ligring boughs of spnice across the trunks of the trees. But unable to sleep on account of the cold ; becoming sick Arom the great quantity of water that I had drunk during the 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. 80 K J U6 ADTICE TO A LOVES. that no hero of eastern romance ever experienced a more enchanting change. 146. I had got into the house of one of those Yankee Loyalists, who/ at the dose of the revolu- tionary war (which, until it had succeeded, was called a rebellion), had accepted of grants of land in the £ing*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 sutfered to sleep till break£Etst time, when I fouu«I a table, the like of which I have siace seen so many in the United States, loaded with good things. The Tjmster and mistress of the house, aged about fifty, were like what an English farmer and his wife were half-a- oentury ago. There were two sons, tall and stout, who appeared to have come in from work, and the youngest of whom was about my age, then twenty-three. But there was anotlt^ 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 ligi.> brown hair twisted nicely up, and fastened on the top of her head, in which head were a pair of lively blue eyes, associated vdHk 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 l^utt I had ever seen but once in my life. That once was, too, two yea/re agone; and, in such a case and at such an age, two years, two whole tyears, is a long, long while I It THB author's EXPRMKNCE. 147 was a space as long as the elereniih part of my then life ! Here was the present against the (ibseni : here was the power of the eyes pitted against that of the memory: here were all the senses up in arms to subdue the influoioe ,of the thoughts: hero 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 everything that imagination can conceive, united in a conspiracy against the poor little brunette in England! What, then, did I fisdl in love at once with this bouquet of lilies and rose? Oh! by no means. I was, however, so enchanted with tlhB pktce; 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 defHurture, to come again as often as I possibly tN}uld; — a promise which I most punctually fulGUed. 147. Winter is the great season for jaunting and dancifig (called frolickvng) in America. In this Pro* vince the river and the creeks were the only roack from settlement to settlement. In summer we travelled in ocmoes; in winter in thighs on the ice or snow. During more than two years 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 delight 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 sanguine than I was would have given the tenderest interpreta- 148 ADYICE TO A LOYEB. tion; which ti'eatment I, especially in the last-men- tioned 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 fi-equently to the test, and exposed to detection. The next-door neighbour might, in that country, be ten miles off. We used to have a frolic, sometimes 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, mother, brothers, and the whole neighbourhood looked 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 impliceUion, taking into view the interpretation that she would naturally put upon my looks, appella- tions, 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 affectsd her health or spirits : 1 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 succeeding 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 inten- tion, I no more thought of it, in her case, than if she had been my sister. Many times I put to myself the ' questions : " What am I at ? Is not thi» wrong ? FAy do I go r But still I went 149. Then, further in my excuse, my prior engage- THE author's experience. 149 meftdy though carefully left unalluded 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 wdl known 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 Dorchester) who was the Governor when I was there, when he, about fifteen years afterwards, did me the honour, on his re- turn to England, to come and see 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 deceptwn on my part j but still I ought not to have suffered even the most distant hope to be entertained by a person so in- nocent, so amiable, for whom I had. so much affection, and to whose heart I had no right to give a single twinge. I ought, from the very first, to have pre- vented the possibility of her ever feeling pain on my account. I 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 Jmt parting came; and now came my just punishment ! The time was known to everybody, and was irrevocably fijced ; for I had to move with a regi- ment, and the embarkation of a regiment is an epoch in a thinly-settled pvovince. To desciibe this parting would be too painful even at this distant day, and with this frost of age upon my head. The kind and virtuous fistther came forty miles to see me, just as I was going S(« 150 ADVICE TO ▲ IiOYEB, on board in the river. His looks, and words I have never forgotten. As the vessel descended, she passed the month of thai creek, which I had so often entered with delight; and though England, and all that England contained, were before me, I lost sight of this cre^ with an aching heart. 151. On what trifles turn the great events in the lifb of man ! If I had received a cool letter from my in- tended wife ; if I had only heard a rumour of anything from which fickleness in her might have been inferred; if I had found in her any, even the smallest, abatement of a£rt»:tion ; if she hail but let go any one of the hundred ^Hrings by which she held my heart : if any of these, never would the world have heard of me. Toung 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 conduct and great natural talents had given me; sanguine as was my mind, and brilliant as were my prospects : yet I had seen so much of the meannesses, the unjust partialities, the insolent pomposity, the disgusting dissipations df that way of life, that I was weary of it : I longed, ex- changing my fine laced coat for the Yankee £Eirm«r'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 banks of this branch-covered creek, which contained (she out of y the question) everything congenial to my taste and dear to my heart, I, imapplauded, unfeared, unenvied and uncalumniated, should have lived and died. 151 LETTER IV. AimOl TO A HUSBAND. 103. It if in tliii capacity that yonr cctaduct will hare tli« greatest effect on your happiness ; and a great deal wUl depend on the manner in which you begin, I am to luppoie that you have made a good choiae ; but a good young woman may be made, by a weak, a harsh, a negleetAil^ an extravagant, or a profligate husband, a really bad wifls and mother. All in a wife, beyond her own natural disposition and education 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 TmdercUion in €xp«fM$; and to make her clearly see the justice of beginning to act upon the presumption, that there are chMdren comtnfff that they are to be provided for, and that she is to attitt in the making of that provision. ^ Legally speaking, we have a right to do what we please with our own property, which, 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 expected fruit of it; and, therefore (reserving further remarks upon this subject till I eome 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 153 JUgyiCE TO A HUSBAND. /J-- 154, The great danger of all is, beginning with ser- va/ntif or a twvaml. Whei-e there are riches, or where the buiiness is so great as to demand Ae^ in the carrying on of the affairs of a house, one or more female servants muit be kept ; but where the work of a house can be done by one pair of hands, why should there be two : en^edally as you cannot have the hands without having the mott^i and, which is frequently not less costly, in- oniTenient, and injurious, the tongue ? When children oomO; there must, at times, be some foreign aid ; but until then, what need can the wife of a young trades- man^ or eren &irmer (unless the family be great), have of A servant 1 The wife is young, and why is she not to work as well as the husband ? What justice is there in wanting you to. keep two women instead of one 1 You have not married them both in form ; but if they be inseparable, you have married them in sub- stance ; and if you are free from the crime of bigamy, you have the ike most burdensome ^ftrt of its conse- quences. 165, 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 fjurmer, though with scarcely a shilling to call his own ; and that every clerk, and every such person, begins by keeping a servant, and that the latter is generally pro- vided before the wife be installed : I am well aware of aU this ; but knowing, from long and attentive obser- vation^ that it is the great bane of the marriage life — the great cause 6i that penury, and of those numerous and tormenting embarrassments, amidst which eon- EXPENSE OF SEBVANT^ 153 jugal 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 pomids Or year; for, besides her wages, board, and lodging, there must be a^6 solely for her ; or she must sit with the husband and wife, hear every word that passes between them, and between them and their friends, which iHll^ of course, greatly add to the pleasures of their fireside 1 To keep her tongue still would be impossible, and, in- deed, unreasonable ; and if, as may frequently happen, she be prettier than the wife, she will know how to give the suitable interi)retation to the looks which, next to a certainty, she will occasionally get from him, who, as it were in mockery, she calls by the name of " master.^* This is almost downright bigamy; but this can never do; and therefore she must have a fire to hersdf. Besides the blaze of coals, however, there is another sort oi flame that she will inevitably covet. She will by no means be sparing of the coals ; but, well fed and well lodged, as she will be, whatever you may be, she will naturally sigh for the £re 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, whi& 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 leasts will not be looked upon as such by the charitable 1^ "W 154 ADTIOE TO A HUSBAinX firiend at whme house she meets the longing BOol, dying partly with love and partly with hanger. 167. The cost, altogether, is nearer fifty poimds a-year than thirty. How many thousands of trades- men and clerks, and the like, who might have passed 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 ! When I, on my return from America, in 1800, liyed a short time in Saint James's Street, following my habit of early rising, I used to see the servant- miaids, at almcMt every house, dispensing charity at the exp^ise of their masters, long before they, good men, opened their eyes; who thus did deeds of benevolence, not only without boasting of them, but without know- ing of them. Meat, bread, cheese, butter, coals, candles; all came with equal freedom from these liberal hands. I have observed the same, in my early walks and rides, in every part of this great place aud its environs. Where there is one servant it is worse than when there are twa or moi'e; for, happily for their employers, they do not always agree : so that the oppression is most heavy on those who are the least able to bear it; and particularly on clerkg, and such like people, whose wivesT seem to think that, because the husba id's work is of a genteel description, they ought to li ve the life of ladiea. Poor fellows! their work is no 6 hard and rough, to be sure; but it is work, and work for many \ hours too, and painful enough; and as to their income, it scarcely exceeds, on an average, the double, at any rate, of that of a journeyman carpenter, bricklayer, or tailor. OOVmAIlT OF tEBYAKTa 155 158. Besides, the man and wife will lire on cheaper diet and drink than a servant will lire. Thoasanda who would never have had beer in their house have it for the servant, who will not live without it. How- ever frugal your wife, her frugality is of little use, if she have one of these iDmates to provide for. Many a hundred thousand times has it happened that the butcher and the butter-man have been applied to solely because there was a servant to satisfy. You cannot, with this clog everlastingly attached tc yoT>, be frugal if you would: you can save nothing ag; 'nst the days of expense, which are, however, pretty siure to ^ >me. And why should you bring into your house a trouble like this; an absolute annoyance; a uoiaething 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 &lse shame, and false and contemptible pride. If u young man were, on his marriage, to find any diffieidty in setting this ruinous fashion at defiance, a very good way would be to count down to his wife at the end of every week, t! i> .amount of the expense of a servant for that week, and request her to deposit it in her drawer. In a ^ihort time, she would find the sum so large, that rhi} would be frightened at the thoughts of a servant; and would never dream of one again, except in ca^e 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 » 156 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. woman not able to cook and wash, and m^nd 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 anything that the mind can suggest to spare her labour, and to conduce to her convenience ! Not ahle to do this ? Then, if she brought no fortune, and he had none, she ought not to have been able to Tnamj : and, let me tell you, young man, a small for- tune 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 yoimg woman could perform without pain, or gi'eat 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 preserve beauty. You often hear girls, while scrubbing or washing, sing- ing till they are out of breath ; but never while they are at what they call working at the needle. Thn American wives are most exemplary in this respecu 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 market, and cheerfully carry homo the result : in the oountiy they not only do the work in the hous^ but extend their labours to the garden, plant THE author's practice. 157 and weed and hoe, and gather and preserve the fruits and the herbs; and this, too, in a climate far from being so favourable to labour as that of England; and they are amply repaid for these by those gratifications which their excellent economy enables their husbands to bestow upon them, and which it is their universal habit to do with a liberal hand. llU. But did I practise what I am here preaching 'i Aye, and to the ful] 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 manner 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 watching 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, duiing my share of the night watchings over a sick, and then only, child, who* after lingering many months, died in my arms. 1 62. This was the way that we went on : this was the wuy that we began the married life ; and surely that which we did with pleasure, no young couple, uncn- , dowc(i with fortune, ought to be ashamed to do. But I 15S ADVICE TO A HUSBAim. she may be ill; the time may be near at hand, or may have actually arrived, when she must encounter that particular pain and danger of which you haw been the happy cause/ Oh! that is quite another matter! And if you now 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 romantic indeed ! She deserves them all, and more than all, ten thousand times told. And now it is that you feel the blessing conferred by her economy. That heap of money which might have been squandered on, or by, or in consequence of, an useless servant, you now have in hand wherewith to procure an abund- ance of that skill and that attendance of which she stands in absolute need; and she, when restored to 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 the beginning that is everything 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 below the station that she ought to maintain. She would cheerfully do it ; but there are her iveoct-door ndghhoura who do not do it, though, in all other respects, on a par with her. It is not laziness, but pernicious fashion, that you will have to combat. But the truth is, that there ought to be no oomJbat at all ; this important matter ought to be settled one. DEMEANOUS TOWAICDS ▲ WIFEL 159 and fully agreed on heforehand. If she really love yon, 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 ^s to be unable to exist without her, it is better to cea? :j to exist at once, than to be- come the toiling and (Embarrassed slave of a wasting and pillaging servant. 164. The next thing to be attended to is, your dimeaflfKmr 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 stem de- meanour in the husband a matter not of heart-breaking consequence. But with a young and inexperienoed one, Jie case is very different ; and you should bear in mind that the first frown that she receives from you is a dagger to her heart. Nature has so ordered it, that men ahall become less ardent in their passion after the wedding-day, and that women shall not. Their ardour increases rather than the contrary; and they are sur- prisingly quick-sighted 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 what 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 before you called her wife. 165. But now, and throughout your b'fe, show your affection for her, and your admiration of her, not in nonsensical compliment ; not in picking up her hand- kerchief or her glove, or in carrying her fan or pani- i ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. ,^^1-; -not), if. you have the means, in hanging trinkets j^v :and'baubJes,upoTL 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 good- ness ^»»is 5 ds her ; prove by unequivocal deeds the high value that you set on her health and life and peace of mind ; let your praise of Iier go to the full extent of her deserts; bub let it be consistent with truth and with aem^ef 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 appellation that her Christian name affords is the best you can use, especially before &ces. An everlasting " mi/ dear** is but a sorry compensation for a want of that sort of love that makes the husband cheerfully toil by day, break his rest by night, endure all sorts of hardships, if the life or health of his wife demand 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 flital consequences to my wife for want of sleep, she not having, after the great danger was over, had any sleep for more than forty- ^ eight hours. All great cities, in hot countries, are, I believe, full of dogs ; and they, in the very hot weather, AUTHOn^S EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 161 teep up, during the night, a horrible barking and fight- ing and howling. Upon the particular occasion to which I am adverting, they made a noise so terrible and so unremitted, that 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 now, if it were not for the dogs." Down stairs I went, and out I sallied, in my shirt and trousers, 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 keep- ing them at two or three hundred yards* distance from the house. I walked thus the whole night, barefooted, lest the noise of my shoes might possibly reach her cars ; 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, off went I to a day's business which was to end at six in the evening. 167. Women are all patriots of the soil; and when her neighbours use^" to ask my wife whether all English husbands were lil j hers, she boldly answered in the affirnxative. I had business to occupy the whole of my tifiie, Sundays and week- days, except sleeping hours; but I used to make time to assist her in the taking care of her l:»abj , 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 M*^i 162 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. her in water and wood for the day, then dress myself neatly, aivd sally forth to my business- The mr;.ment that was orer I used to hasten back to li<3r agtiin ; and I no more thought of spending a mora'^.Dt ri^wny from hsvy unless business compelled nie, than I thought of (quit- ting the couDtry and .'^joing to sea. The thwnder and lightning are tremendous in America, compared with what they aie in England. My wife was. at one time^ very much afraid of thunder ard ligiitr "*ng ; and, as is the feeling of all such -w omen, an*!, indeed, all men tec, she wanted company, and particularly her husband, VA those times of danger. I knew well, of course, that 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 Frenchmen who were my scholars used to laugh at me exceedingly on this account ; and sometimes, when I was making an appointment with them, they would say, with a smile and a bow, "Satwe "la Umnerre toujour s, Monsiewr Cobbett.** 168. I never dangled about at the heels of my wife; seldom, very seldom, ever vxUked outj as it is called, with her; I never "went a-tvalking" in the whole course of my life; never went to walk without having some object in view other than the walk; and as I never could walk at a slow pace, it would have been hard work for her to keep up with me ; so that, in the nearly ' forty years of our married life, we have not walked out together perhaps twenty times. I hate a dangler, who THE ATJTHOB IK PBISON. 163 I, is more like a footman than a husband. It is very cheap to be kind in trifles; but that which rivets the affections is not to be purchased 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 necessity for it ever so great : it was my rule that everything must give way to that. In the year 1809 some English local militiamen were flogged in the Isle of Ely, in England, under a guard of Hcmov&ria/iMy then stationed in England. I, reading an account of this in a London newspaper called the "C(nmerf* expressed my indignation at it in such terms as became an Englishman to do. The Attorney- Greneral, Gibbs, was set on upon me; he harassed me for nearly a year, then brought me to trial, and I was, by Ellenborough, Grose, Le Blanc, nnd Bailey, sentenced to two yeari impriaowmevU in Newgate, to pay a fine ta the Jdng of a thousand pounds, and to be held in heavy bail for seven years after the expiration of the imprison- ment ! Every one regarded it as a sentence of deaths 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; I had a most anxious and devoted wife, who was, too, in that state which rendered the separation more pain- ful tenfold. I was put into a place amongst fdons, from which I had to rescue myself at the price of twdve guineas a-week for the whole of the two years. The king, poor man ! was, at the close of my imprisonment^ not in a oondUum to receive the thottscmd pounds; but 164 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. his son, tlie present king, punctually received it **in fUi "name arid behalf;" and he keeps it stilL 169. The sentence, though it proved not to be one of death, was, in effect, one of ruirif as far as then possessed property went. But this really appeared as nothing compared with the circumstance that I must now have a child bam in a/elon*8Jailf or be absent from the scene at the time of birth. My wife, who had come to see me for fche last time previous to her lying-in, perceiving my deep dejection at the approach of her departure for Botley, resolved 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 leading to Smithfield. So that there she was, amidst the incessant rattl| of coaches and butchers* carts, and the noise of cattle, dogs, and bawling men, instead of being in a quiet and commodious country bi»use, with neighbours and servants and everything necessary 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 me. If she had gone to Botley, leaving me in that state of anxiety in which she saw me, I am satisfied that she would have died; and that event taking place at such a distance froDi me, how was I to contemplate her TBUB WAY TO TEEAT A WIPE. 165 corpM; ffttrrounded by ber distracted children, and to have eicaped death or madness myself? If such was not the effect of this merciless act of the government towardi me, that amiable body may be well assured that I have taken cmd recorded the will for the deed^ and that ai much it will live in my memory as long as that memory shall last. 170, I make no apology for this account of my own conduct, because example is better than precept, 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 pooi'« It is not, then, dangling 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 endears you to her : it is the adher- ence to that promise you have made her — "With ** my bod]/ I thee worship f* that is to say, respedt and Jumou/r by personal attention and acts of affection. And remember, that the greatest possible proof that you can give of real and solid affection is to give her your timef when not wanted in 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 courae, in some ranks and circumstances of life, include the intei'course 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 fireside, after the business of the day is »f| 166 ADTICE TO A HUSBAND. over, and seeking promiscuous companions in the ale or the coffee-houMo? 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 mfk; that is to WKff a place for no other purpose than that of gossiping, drinkin|;, and gaming. And it is with great sorrow that I acknowledge that many English husbands indulge 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 huabanda; 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? 171* Innumerable are the miseries that spring from this cause. The ^cpenae is, in the first place, very con- siderable, I much question whether, amongst trades- men, a 0hMling a-night pays the average 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 liealth from these night adventures; there are the qtuirreh; there is the vicious haMtof Icxme and filthy talk; there are the slanders^ and the backbitings; there are the admiration of con- temptible wit; and there are the scoffings at all that is Moher and serious. i u LIKE MASTER UEE HAN. 167 172. And does the husband who thus abandons his wife and children imagine that she will not, in 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 tiie cost may be two shillinga 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, perhaps, unpaid. Here are the slanderings, 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 acquaintances and intruders, and all the con- sequent and inevitable squabbles which form no small part of the torment of the life of man. 173. If you have aervaifiia, they know to a moment the time of your absence; and they regulate their pro- ceedings 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 xhe vigilant, attentive, and sober man. Late hours, cards and dice, are amongst the consequences of the master's absence; and why not, seeing that he is setting the example? Fire, candle, profligate visitants, expenses, losses, children ruined in habits and morals, and, in short, a t^in of evils hardly to be enumerated arise from this most vicious habit of the master spending his leisure time from home. But beyond all the rest is the ill treatment of the wife. When left to 1C8 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. ourselves we all seek the company that we like best; the company in which we ta^e the most ddight: 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 ddight in other company tha/n. in theirs. Childi'en repay this with disregard for their father; but to a wife of any sensibility, it is either a dagger to her heart or an incitement to revenge, and revenge, too, of a species which a young woman will seldom be long in want of the means to gratify. In conclusion of these remarks respecting absentee husbands, 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 parar mour, "comes I'eeling home at midnight, tumbles in " beside me as a salmon flounces in a net, oversets the *' economy of my bed, belches the fumes of hLs drink " in my face, then twists himself round, leaving roe " half naked, and listening till morning to that tuneful "nightingale, 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 husr band; 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 taking even BEOIV WELL. 169 this revenge, my sentence would be very lenient; for what right has such a hunband to expect Jiddityf 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, indeed, 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 wdl: many a man has become a sottish husband, and brought a family to ruin, without being sottishly indined, and without liking the gossip of the ale or coffee-house. It is by slow degrees that the mischief is done. He is first inveigled, and, in time, he really likes the thing; and, when arrived at that point, he is incurable. Let him resolve, from the very first, never to spend an hour from home unless business, or, at least, some necessary and I'ational purpose demand it. Where ought he to be but with the person whom he himself has chosen to be his partner for life and the mother of his children? What oth^r company ought he to deem so good and so fitting as this? With whom else can he so pleasantly spend his hours of leisure and relaxation? Besides, if he quit her to seek company more agreeable, 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 seairch of company more gay than he finds at home? 170 ADVIOE TO A HUSBAND. 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 derive from it '^l induce him to continue right. That is not being ** tied to tike aproii-atringa" 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 anybody else, and especially to a company of tippling and noisy men? If you excuse yourself by saying that you go to read the newspaper^ I answer buy the newspaperj if you must read it; 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 wlio does not prefer sitting by his own fire-side with his wife and children, reading to them, or hearing them read, to hearing the gabble 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, merchants, all men out of the common track of labour, and even some in the very lowest walks, are sometimes compelled 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 u ADYAHTAGES OF PUNCTUALITY. 171 doing this without any necessity, and by choice : liking the next door, or any house in the same street, better than your own. When absent firom 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 satisfies; 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 apprized of the probable duration of the absence, and of the time of return; and if these be dependent on circumstance, those circumstances ought to be fully stated ; for you have no right to keep her mii)d upon the rack, when you have it in your power to put it in a state of ease. Few men have been more frequently taken from home by business, or by a neces- sity 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 Jrom day to day: if the time was fixed, or when it became fixed, my arrival was as sure as my life. Ooing 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, delighted with Finnerty's talk, as every- body else was, kept us till ten or eleven o'clock, and was proceeding to the otJier bottle, when. I put in my protest, saying, " We must go ; my wife will be **fiighten(3d." " IMood, man," said Finnerty, "you do "not mean to go home to-night!" I told him I did; 172 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. 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. CoBBETT would be up to receive us, I contending for the affirmative, and he for the negative. She was up, and had a nice fire for us to sit down at. She liad 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 1" said Finnerty. " To be " sure I did," said she; " he never disappointed 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 husbands; 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 committed her happiness to his hands. The truth is, that men in general look upon women as having no feelings different from their own ; and they know that they themselves would regard such disappointments as nothing. But this is a great mistake : wom<*n feel more acutely than men ; their love is more ardent, more pure, more lasting, and they are more frank and sincere in I 1 4. wife's happiness all important. 173 the utterance of their feelings. They ought to be treated with due consideration had for all their amiable qualities and all their weaknesses, and nothing by which their minds are affected ought to be deemed a trifle. 178. When we consider what a young woman gives up on her wedding-day; she makes a surrender, an absolute surrender, of her liberty, for the joint l?ves of the parties ; she gives the husband the absolute right of causing her to live in what place, and in what manner and in what society, he pleases ; she gives him the power to take from her, and to use for his own purposes, all her goods, unless reserved by some legal instrument ; and, above all, she surrenders to him her person. Then, when we consider the pains which they endure for us, and the large shave of all the anxious parental cares that fall to their lot; when we consider their devotion to us, and bow unshaken their affection remains in our ailments, eve'* though the most tedious and disgusting; when we coh.ider the oflSces that they perform, and cheerfully perform, for us, when, were we left to one another, we should perish from neglect; when we consider their ucvotion to their children, how evidently they love them better, in numerous inbtanoes, than their own lives ; when we consider these things, how can a just man think anything a trifle that affects their happiness ? I was once going, in my gig, up the hill, in the village, of Frankford, ne-^r Philadelphia, when a little girl, about two years old, wlio had toddled away from a small house, was lying basking in the sun, in the middle of the road. About two hundred yards 174 ADVICE TO A HUSBAin). 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 shing< ling 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 hug- ging it in her arms, uttered a shriek such as I never heard before, never heard sinpe, and, I hope, shall never hear again, and then she dropped down, as if perfectly dead ! By the application of tht; usual means, she was restored, however, in a little while; ind 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 child. He said he was neither: '• Well, " then," said I, "you merit the gratitude of ev "■ 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; I thank you. it FONDNESS FOK CHILDBEN. 17lr " sir," said he: "I have only done ^^hat it was my « duty to do." 179. Bravery, disinterestedness, and maternal affec- tion sui*passing these, it is impossible to imagine. The mother was going right in amongaC the feet of these powerful and wild horses, and amongst the wheels of the wagons. She had no thought for herself; no feeling of fear for her own life; her shriek was the sound of in- expressible joy : joy too great for her to support herself under. Perhaps ninety-nine mothers out of every hun- dred would have acted the same part, under similar cir- cumstances. 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 " children" not to marry her by any means. Some few there are who even make a boast that they " cannot '* bear children," that is, cannot endure them. I never knew a man that was good for 7nuch who had a dislike to little children ; and I never knew a woman of that taste who was good for anything at ail. I have seim a few such in the course of my life, and I have never wished to see one of them a second time. 180. Being fond of little children argues uo effemi- TMcy in a man, but, as far as my observation has gone, the contrary. A regiment of soldiers presents no bad school wherein to study character. Soldiers have leisure, too, to play with children, as well as with " women and dogs,V for which the proverb has made them famed. And I have never observed that effemi- nacy was at all the marked companion of fondness for little children. This fondness manifestly arises from Wa w i r 176 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. a compassionate feeling towards creatures that are helpless, and that must be innocfent. For my own part, how many days, how many months, all put together, have I spent with babies in my arms ! My' time, when at home, and when babies were going on, was chiefly divided between 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 transfeiTed. Yet I have not been effemi- nate; I have not been idle; I have not been a waster of time; but T should have been all these if I had disliked babies, and had liked the porter-pot and the grog-glass. 181. It is an old saying, " Praise the child, and you ** make lo\ o to the mother;" and it is surprising how far this will go. To a fond mother you can do nothing 80 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 baby, and she will despise you. I have often beheld this in many women, with great admiration ; and it is a thing that no husband ought to overiook ; for if the wife wish her child to be admired by others, what must be the ardour of i» sr T "^hes with regard to fiis admiration. There was a drunken do- of a Norfolk man in our regiment, wL > came fix)m Thetford, I recollect, who used to say, that his wife would forgive him for spending all the pay, and the washing money into the Imrgain, " if he ** would but kiss her ugly brat, and say it was pretty.' Now, though this was a very profligate fellow, he had philosophy/ in him; and certain it is, that there is »»( '■I. *tftf . A WIPE S DUTIES. 177 i nothing worthy 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 considera- tions demand from us the kindest possible treatment of a wifC; the husband is to expect dutiful deportment at her hands. He is not to be 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 com- mands; and, if she have sense, she will perceive that it is a disgrace to herself to acknowledge as a husba'tid a thing over which she has an absolute control. It should always be recollected that you are the party whose body must, if any do, lie in jaU for debts, and for debts of her contracting, too, as well as of your own contracting. Over her tongue, too, you possess a clear right to exercise, if necessary, some control ; for if she use it in an unjustifiable manner, it is against ymi, and not against her, that the law enables, and justly en- ables, the slandered party to proceed; which would be monstrously unjust, if the law were not founded on the ri^ht which tlie husband has to control, if necessary, the tongue of the wife, to compel her to keep it within the limits prescribed by the law. A charming, 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 ail the slanders of whom he was answemble, and over whose conduct he possessed no compulsory control. 183. Of the remedies in the case of really had wives, squanderers, di'unkards, adulteresses, I shall •'•'■•Aeixii 178 ADVICE TO ▲ HUSBAND. 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, greai 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 great and constant homage paid to her virtues, and presuming, too, on the pain with which she knows her will would be thwarted; she may, with all her virtues, be thus led to a bold interference in the c^ffa/irs oflwr h/uahcmd; 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 over- look 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 cannot 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 Caroline, I wan talking upon the sub- ject, one day, with a parson, who had not read the Book, but who, as was the fashion with all those who \ *^* THE HEN-PECKED HUSBAIO). 179 I were looking up to the Government, condemned the Queen unheard. " Kow," said I, " be not so shame- " fully ujyuat; but get the Book, read it, and then give " your Judgment." " Indeed," said his wife, who was fitting by, "but HE SHA'N'T," pronouncing the word« iha^nH with an emphasis and a voice tremendously mtMuline. " Oh I " said I, « if he SH A' N'T, that is " another matter; but if he sha' n't read, if he sha' n't ** hear the evidence, he sha' n't be looked upon, by me, ^'ai a juit judge; and I sha' n't regard him, in future, " ai having any opinion of his own in anything." All which the husband, the poor hen-pecked 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 anything; whether in the capacity 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 boisterous she-com- mander, he is bold in injustice towards those whom it pleaiie« her caprice to mark out for vengeance. In the eyei of neighbours, iovfrieifids such a man cannot have, in the eyeu of servants, in the eyes of even the beggars at his door, mich a man is a mean and despicable creature, though he may roll in wealth and possess great talents into the bargain. Such a man has, in fiu>t, no property; he has nothing that he can rightly call }U9 oi/m; he is a beggarly dependent under his own roof; and if he have anything 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 the better. How many 4 180 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. men, how many families, have I known brought to utter ruin only by the husband suffering himself to be •ubdued, to 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 common cause in behalf of the sex; and, indeed, this is natui^al enough, when we consider the vast power that the law gives us over them. The law is for us, and they com- bine, wherever they can, to mitigate its effects. This is perfectly natural, and, to a certain extent, laudable, evincing fellow-feeling and public spirit: but when carried to the length of " he slta' n%" it is despotism on the one side, and slavery on the other. Watch, there- fore, the incipient steps of encroachment; and they ^-ome on so slowly, so softly, that you must be sharp- stghted if you perceive them ; but the moment you do percewe tliem; 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 mind the pain thftt it may give you : a day of pain at this time will spare you years of pain in time to come. Many a man lias been miserable, and made his wife miserable too, for a score or two of years, only for want of resolution to l>ear one day of pain : and it is a great deal to bear; it is a great deal to do to thwart the desira 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, SnE-COMMAKD£RS. 181 force the nauseous medicine down the throat of her child, whose every cry is a dagger to her heart ;. as she herself 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 Js you and your children ? 186. Am I reco ding tyranny i Am I recom" mending disregan >vife's opinions and wishes? Am I recommending a reaerve towards her that would seem to say that she was not trustworthy, or not a party interested in her husband's affairs 1 By no means : on the contrary, though I would keep anything dis- agreeable 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 jiist that the authority should rest with him oni whose head rests the whole responsibility, 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 marriage 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 tutoressess of the young wiyes of the vicinage ; they, in vii-tue of their experience, not only school the wives, but scold the husbands; they teach the former how to encroach and the latter how to yield : so that if you suffer this IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ■ 50 ■^~ ■■■ ■^ Uk |22 1^ 1 2.0 us ■it u li^ iJi4 U4 Photographic Sdfflices Corporation # ^ \\ 33 WIST MAIN tTMIT WIUTH.N.V. I4SM (71*) t79-4S03 o^ o^ 182 ABYIGE TO A HUSBAND. to go quietly on, you are soon under the care of a emnUS as completely as if you were insane. You want no oomUB: reason, law, religion, 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 contempt that assuredly awaits you, and also the ruin that is, in all probability, your doom. 188. Taking it for granted that you will not suffei* more than a second or third session of the female comity let me say a word or two about the conduct of men in deciding between the conflicting opinions of husbands and wives. When a wife has a point to carry ^ 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 things so "and so, and I think so and so; now, Mr. Tomkins, "don't you think / am right V* To be sure he does; and so does Mr. Jenkins, and so does Wilkins, and so does Mr. Dickins, and you would swear that they were all her Mim. Now this is very foolish, to say the least of it. None of these complaisant hi/na would like this in their own case. It is the fashion to say OAfe to all that a woman asserts, or contends for, especially in contradiction to her husband; and a very pernicious frahion it is. It is, in fact, not to pay her a compli- ment worthy of acceptance, but to treat her as an empty and conceited fool ; and no sensible woman will, except from mere inadvertence, make the appeal. This £uihion, however, foolish and contemptible as it is in itself, is attended very frequently with serious conae- EVILS OF DIVIDBD AX7TH0BITT. 183 quences. Backed by the opinion of her husband^ friends, the wife returns to the charge with redoubled vigour and obstinacy; and if you do not yield, ten to one but a quonrd is the result ; or, at least, something approaching towards it. A gentleman at whose house I was, about five years ago, was about to take a farm 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 pitjr tiiat Habbt, who had had " such a good education," should be hurled in a farm-house. " And don't you think so, too, Mr. Cob- ** bett T said the lady, with great earnestness. " Indeed, ** Msiamf* said I, " I should think it very great pre- '' sumption in me to offer any opinion at all, and ** especially in opposition to the known decision of the ** father, who is the best judge, and the only rightful ''judge, in such a case." This was a very sensible aiid well-behaved woman, and I still respect her very highly; but I could perceive that I instantly dropped out of her good graces. Harry, however, I was glad to hear, went " to be hwried in the farm-house." 189. "A house divided against itself," or, rather, in itself, " cannot stand ;" and it is divided against itself if there be a divided authority. The wife ought to be ^«arc?, and j9ain some of these concerns, wives should be heard with a great deal of attention, especially in the affairs of choosing your male acquaintances and fHends imd associates. Women are more qui' ^ghted than men ; they are less disposed to confic^e L. ^^ersons upon a first acquaintance ; they are more suspicious as to motives; they are less liable to be deceived by pro- fessions and> protestations; they watch words with a more scrutinizing ear, 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 gi*eat deliberation. Louvet, one of the ''■: : i- ANUCDOTE OF LOUVET. 185 Brissotins ivho fled for their lives in the time of BoBESPiERius ; this Louvet, in his narrative, entitled "Mea Perils" and which I read, for the first time, to divert my mind from the perils of the yellow-fd^er, in Phila- delphia, but with which Lwas so captivated as to have I'ead it many times since ; this writer, 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 pasaportf fell lame, but finally crept on to a miserable pot-house, in a small town in the Limosin. The landlord questioned C^m with regard to who and what he was, and whence he came ; and was satisfied 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 diseoTered that there was no danger in tht> 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 t^paaapofi, " Oh " yes ; but drink first." Then there was a laughing story to tell over again, at the request of the half-dnuiken mayor ; then a laughing and more drinking ; the pass- port in LouvET*s hand, but ritwer openedy and, while an- other toast was drinking, 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 gt>od journey, swore he was a true aana eulotte ; but he says that the " sharp-sighted woman, who was '-if. 186 J' ■■ ^ ADVICE TO A HUSBAin). ** to be deceived by none of bis stories or professions, " saw him get off with deep and manifest disappointment " and chagrin." I have thought of this many timds since, when I''have had occasion to witness the qnick- dghtedness and penetration of women. The same quality that makes them, as they notoriously are, more quick in discovering expedients in cases of difficulty, makes them mexe apt to penefcrate into motives and oharacter. 191. I now come to a matter of the greatest possible importance; namely, that great troubler of the married state, that great bane of families. Jealousy; and I diall first speak otjetdousy 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 f I cannot help expressing my abhorrence of those husbands who treat it as a matter for ridicule. To be sure, infidelity in a man is less heinous than infidelity in the wife; but still, is the marriage vow nothing? Is a promise solemnly made before God, and in the face of the world, nothing) 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 cinidiy. First, you win, by great pains, perhaps, a woman's a£fections; then, in order to get possession of her person, you many her; then, after enjoyment, 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 laWj which punishes divers other crimes, does not reach this; but, in the eye of reason and of moral justice, 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 naiwre; nor are any of these which men commit in con- sequence of their necessities. The temptation is great; and is not the temptation 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; CONJUGAL INFIDELITY. 195 for, I have alv/ays obsei-ved, that however men are disposed to laugh at these breaches of vows in men, the act seldom fails to produce injury to the whole char- acter; it leaves, after all the joking, a stain, and, amongst those who depend on character for a liveli- hood, it oi'ten produces ruin. At the very least, it makes an unhappy and wrangling family; it makes children despise or hate their fathers; and it affords an example at the thought of the ultimate consequences of which a father ought to shudder. In such a case children will take part, and they 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 man, when the gmy hairs, and tottering knees, and piping voice come, look round him in vain for a prop, let him, at last, be just, and acknowledge that he has now the due reward of his own wanton cruelty to one whom he had solemnly sworn to love and to cherish to the last hour of his or her life. 199. But, bad as is conjugal infidelity in the huahandf it is much worse in the vjife: a proposition that it is necessary to maintain by the force of reason, because the women, as a sisterhood, are prone to deny the truth of it. They say that adultery is advlteryf in men as well as in them; and that, therefore, the offence is as great in the one case as in the other. As a crime, abstmctedly considered, it certainly is; but, as to the consequiences, 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 N 'i 194 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. h- if I k i that vow, only brings shame upon his wife and family; whereas the wife, by a breach of her vow, may bring the husband a spurious ofispring 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 inflicted in this case than in the other. * 200. And why is the disgrace deeper [ Because here is a total want of ddicacy; here is, in fact, prostUution; here is grossness and filthiness of mind; here is every- thing that argues baseness of character. Women should be, and they are, except in few instances, far mo» »se;ved and more ieUoate thanmen: nature bids them bo such; the habits and manners of the world confiim 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 plurcUitt/ of wives is permitted, there is no plv/ralvty 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 husba/nds would excite horror. The widows of the Hindoos bum themselves in the pile that consumes their husbands; but the Hindoo vndoujers 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 shoidd be tempted to connect themselves witL other men; and though this is carrying delicacy far indeed, it reads to Christian wives a lesson not unworthy of their atten- tion; for, though it is not desiiiible that their bodies ■;^- CONJUGAL INFXDELITT. 195 should be turned into handfuls of aslies, even that 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 ever 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 civilized countries act upon this settled distinction. Men who have been guilty of the offence are not cut off from society, but women who have been guilty of it are; for, as we all know well, no woman, married or single, of fair repuiatiorif will risk that reputation by being ever seen, if she can avoid it, with a woman who has ever, at any time, committed this offence, 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 conse- quences above described : how much more imperative 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 fier children / how is she to make atonement to them I They are commanded to honour their father and their mother; but not such a mother as this, who, on the contrary, haa no claim i\ 19C ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. 't t j ^ ^ to anything 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 influence, and condemns her to the just detestation 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 the husband, so that caution ought to be greater in making the accusation, or entertaining the suspicion. Men ought to be very slow in entertaining such suspicions : they ought to have clear proof before they can etispect; a proneness to such suspicions is a very unfortunate turn of the mind; and, indeed, few characters are more despicable than that of a jealous-Iieaded 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 willingness to palm a spurious offspring upon him, and upon her legitimate children, as robbers of their birthright ; and, boaides this, grossness, filthiness, and prostitution. She imputes to him injustice and cruelty: but ho imputes to her that which banishes her from society; that which cuts her off for life from CONJUGAL INFIDELITY. 197 evei'ything 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 the smallest step in the way of accusation; but if unhappily 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 have not grounds; 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 com or a cancer. It is not the jealousy in itself which is despicable; but the continuing to live in that staie. It is no dishonour to be a slave in Algiera, for instance; the dishonour begins only where you remain a slave voluntarily; it begins the moment you can escape from slavery, and do not. It is despic- able 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 disengage your- self from her; but the law does not compel you to re- main in tfie same country with her; and, if a man have no other means of ridding himself of such a curse, what are mountains or seas to traverse 1 And what is the risk (if such there be) of exchangitig a life of bodily case for a life of labour ? What are these, and numer- ous other ills (if they happen) superadded 1 Nay, what is death itself, compared with the baseness, the infamy, the never-ceasing shame and reproach of living under 198 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. 4^ 11 the same roof with a prostituted woman, and calling her your wife ? But there are childrmf and what are to become of these? To be taken away from the prostitute, 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 adulteress : 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 children to remain in such a state is a crime that hardly admits of adequate description; a jail is paradise compared with such a life, and he who can endure this latter, ieom 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 Vfdl and truly acted his part! It supposes, not only that he has been faithful; but that he has not, in a,uy way, been the cause of temptation to the wife to be unfaithful. If he have been cold and neglectful ; 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, junkettiug, parties of pleasure and gaiety; if he have introduced the habit of indulging in what are called "innocent **/reedom8;" if these, or any of these, the fault ia his, he must take the consequences, and he has no right to inflict punishment on the offender, 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 nryooDNT freedoms! 199 ower in this respect : it is for him to use that power for the honour of his wile as well as for that of himself: if he neglect to US3 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 ascribahle to tJie hvshands. Folly or mis- conduct 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 ofience; but it may, at the same time, deprive him of the right of inflicting punishment on her: her kindred, her 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 de- meanour of a married woman, or even a single one, imply a contradiction. 'For freedom^ thus used, means an exemption or departure from the strict nUea o/femcde reserve; and I do not see how this can be innoceiU. It may not amount to crimOf indeed ; 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 I liked " innocent freedoms," I should have unyoked my- I self in a very short time. But, to say the truth, it is all a man's own fault. If he have not sense and in- fluence enough to prevent "innocent freedoms," even \More marriage, he will do well to let the thing alone, and leave wives to be 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 I you go and pull her away from them % Oh no, by no 200 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. 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 effiaienci/ through life depends upon his mind being quite free from all anxieties of this sort, that too much care can not 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 Aome, 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 separated 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; and if you do pursue it, and show by your deeds that you value your wife as y^'i do your own life, you must 1)6 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 mariied state, requires all these precautions, all these cares, to fail to any ex- tent 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 ia better to remain single ? If you should ■ay this, it is my business to show that you are in erjror. For, in the first place, it is against nature to suppose that children can cease to be bom ; they must and will AlfVANTAGES OF MARBIAOE. 201 come ; and then it follows that they must come by pro- miscuous intercourse or by particular connection. The former nobody will contend for, seeing that it would put us in this respect on a level with the brute crea- tion. Then, as the connection is to be particulary it must be during pleasure, or for the joint lives of the parties. 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. There- fore, to be a fatheTf with all the lasting and delightful ties attached to the name, you must first be a hus- band ; and there are very few men in the world who do not, first or last, desire to be /atliers. If it be said that marriage ought not to be for life, but that its dura- tion ought to be subject to the will, the mtUunl toUl 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 dis- putes 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 con- tinually trying to get out ; but let the field be walled round, he makes the best of his hard fare, and divides his time between grazing and sleeping. Besides, there could be no families, no assemblages of persons worthy of that name ; all would be confusion and indescribable intermixture : the, names of brother and sister would hardly have a meaniug ; and, therefore, there must be man'iage, or there can be nothing worthy of the name of family or of father. 202 ADVICE TO A HUSBAN9. 210. The GO/tea and trottbles of the married life are many; but are those of the single life fewl Take the /cmMr, and it is nearly the same with the tradesman ; but take the farmer^ for instancfe, and let him, at the age of twenty-five, go into business unmarried. See hii maid-iervants, probably rivals for his smiles, but oei'tainly rivals in the charitable distribution of his viotuab and drink amongst those of their own rank : behold Mr guardianship of his pork-tub, his bacon- racki his butter, cheese, milk, poultry, eggs, and all the rest of it : look at thdr care of all his household stuff, his blanketii sheets, pillow-cases, towels, knives and forks, and particularly of his crockery-wafrey of 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 hie linen and other wearing apparel, and always have it ready for him without his thinking about it ! If absent at market, or especially at a distant fair, how ecrupulously they will keep all their cronies out of his houiei and what special care they will take of his ceUar, more particularly that which holds the strong beer ! And his groceries, and his spirits, and his wiiM (for a bachelor can afford it) how safe these will all be! Bachelors liave not, indeed, any more than married men, a security for healih ; but if our young farmer be •lok, there are his couple of maids to take care of him, to administer his medicine, and to perform for him all other nameless offices, which in such a case are re- quired ; and, what is more, take care of everything down stairs at the same time, especially his desk with the money in it! Never will they, good-humoured MEN abI: poos helpless mortals. 203 girls as they are, scold him for coining homo too late ; but, on the contrary, like him the better for it; and if he have drunk a little too much, so much the better, for I then he will sleep late in the morning, and when he [comes out at last, he will find that his men have been ISO ha/rd 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 lis affairs with profit without a wife, or a mother, or a laughter, or some such person ; and mother and datigJUer ^mply matrimony. To be sure a wife would cause some trouble, perhaps, to this young man. There [might be the midwife and nurse to gallop after at mid^ light : there might be, and thei*e ought to be, if called for, a little complaining of late hours : but, good God ! rhat are these, and all the other troubles that could ittend a married life ; what are they compared to the >ne single circumstance of the want of a wife at ycui" 3dside during one single uight of illness ! . A nurse ! rhat is a nurse to do for you? Will she do the Ihings that a wife will dol Will she watch your looks and your half-uttered wishes ? Will she use the irgent persuasions so often necessary to save life in ich cases ? Will she, by her acts, convince you that l^t is not a toil, but a delight, to break her rest for your ike ? In short, now it is that you find that what the romen themselves say is strictly true, namely, that dthout wives, men, are poor helpless mortals. 212. As to the expense, there is no comparison b^ bween that of a woman-servant and a wife in the house 204 ADVICE TO A BUSCaITD. iii a farmer or a tradesman. The wages of the formor is tiot the expense; it is the want of a common interest with you, and this you can obtain in no one but a wife. But there are tJie children. I, for 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 childrei^ 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 ciU? 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 pleasures: no soul having a common interest with you : all around yt>u taking care of themselves, and no care of you : no one to cheer you in moments of depression : to say all il%^ word, no one to love 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 different ties; and, however laudable your feelings as son and brother, those feelings are of a different character. Then as to gratifications^ from which you will hardly abstain altogether, are they generally of little expense ? and are they attended with no trouble, no vexation, no disappointment, no jealousy aiUmtm ■•*#'■ THE BACHELOR NOT DEVOID OF CABE. 205 oven, and axe they never followed by shame or remorse? 214. It does very well in bantering songs, to say that the bachelor's life is " devoid o/ecire" My obser. vation 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 & bundle of clothes, given in charge to some one, he may be at his ease; but, if he possess anything of a home, be is never sure of its safety; and this uncertainty is a great enemy to cheerfulness. And as to effioimoy in life, how is the bachelor to equal the married man? In the case of farmers and tradesmen, the lat^r have so dearly the advantage 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 ft wifb and children is the greatest of all possible spurs to exertion. Many a man, naturally prone to idleness, has become active and industrious when he saw children 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. Dryden*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 ^nd children, he can have no exertion in him; or he must be deaf to all the dictates of nature. 215. Perhaps the world never exhibited a more striking proof of the truth of this doctrine than that T^ ■'r. 206 ADYIOE TO A HUSBAND. whicli 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 ma/rried mam* In the* first place, they could not; for I should, 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 straw about, and should have wasted the isx 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 cmxieties, and had only to provide for the veiy moderate wants of that home. But the children began to come. They sharpeoed 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 triumph over my enemies; but, after all, a very large part of my nearly a hmndred volumes may be £edrly ascribed to the wife and children. 216. I might have done aomethmg; but, perhaps, not a thouatmdA 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 £Eitigue, 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. Love came and rescued me from this state of horrible slavery; placed the whole of my time at my own disposal; made me as . ft' - ■•* THE author's experience. 307 free as air j removed every restraint upon the opera- tions 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 oppor- tunity of acquiring what is etUled learning, had so much good sense, so much useful knowledge, was so innocent, so just in all h&c ways, so pure in thought, word, and deed, so disinterested, so generous, 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, go cheering, that I must, seeing the health and the capacity which it had pleased Grod to give me, have been a orimincdf if 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 "Care/" What care have I known! I have been buffeted about by this powerful and vindictive Government; I have repeatedly had the ftuit of my labour snatched away from me by it; but I had a partner that never frowned, that was never melancholy, that never was subdued in E^irit, that never abated a smile on these occasions, that fortified me, and sus- tained me by her coui'ageous example, 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 cheerfrd, and just as full of caresses, when brought down to a meiQii hired lodging, as when the mistress of a fine country-house with aU its accompaniments; and, whether from her words or her looks, no one could gather that she regi'etted the change. What "cares** i 208 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. 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 aiocty-Jburth year has come? 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 bouglU 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 Boichelor. Those circumstances, those changes in his person and in his mind, which, in the husband, 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 mercenary crowd that generally surround uim, little besides an eager desire to profit from that event, the approach of which nature makes a subject of sorrow with him. 219. Before I quit this part of my work I cannot refrain from oflEering my opinion with regard to what is due from husband to wife, when the disposal of his property comes to be thought of. When marriage is an affair settled by deeds, contracts, and lawyers, the husband being bound beforehand, has really no toill 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 money, she brought him her per- son ; and by delivering that up to him she established BIGHTS OF A WIFE. 209 a claim to his careful protection of hor to the end of her life. Some men think, or act a« if they thought, that, if a wife bring no money, and if the husband gain money by his business or profession, that money is hiSf and not hers, because she had not been doing any of those things for which the money has been received. But is this way of thinking jtiat ? By the marriage vow the husband endows the wife imth all his worldly goods; and not a bit too much is this, when she is giving him the command and possession of her person. But does she not lidp to acquire the money i Speaking, for instance, of the farmed, or the merchant, the wife does not, indeed, go to plough, or to look after the plough- ing and sowing ; she does not purchase or sell the stock ; she does not go to 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 property; she pre- serves 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 docs not even know what he is doing ; but she keeps his house in order ; she rears up his children ; she provides a scene of suitable resoiii for his friends; she ensures him a constant retreat Horn the fatigues of his affairs ; she makes his home pleasant, and 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 210 ADVICE TO A HUSBAin). from being squandered away. It is, therefore, as much Iters as it is the husband's ; and though the law gives him, in many cases, the power of keeping her share ^m 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 married 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, provided 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 pro- perty to the second husband. So much for posthumovs jealousy I 221. "Where there are childrmij indeed, it is the duty of the husband to provide, in certain cases, against step-fathers^ who are very prone not to be the most just and affectionate parents. It is an unhappy circum- stance when a dying father is compelled 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 mania ge. The law allows it, to be sure ; but there is, as Prior says, " something be- " yond the letter of the law." I know what ticklish gi'ound I am treading on here ; but, though 7t is as lavj/ul for a woman to take a second 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 :'mf SECOND MARBIAQES. 211 adultery in the husband ; as it is mdre gross, as it m- clndes proatUutLn; so a second marriage in the woman is more gross than in the man, argues great deficienoy in that ddicacyy that inrtate modesty which, after all, is the greaA charms the charm of charms in the female sex. I do not ^i/fce to hear a man talk of his^s^ wife, especially in the presence of a second; but to hear a woman thus talk of her first husband, has never, how- ever beautiful and good she might be, failed to sink her in my estimation. I have, in such cases, never been able to keep out of my mind that concatenation of ideas which, in spite of custom, in spite of the frequency of the occun-ence, leaves an impression deeply disadvan- tageous to the party; for, after the greatest of ingenuity has exhausted itself in the way of apology, it comes to this at last, that the person has a second time undergone that surrender, 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 " 2k 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 ? Why, that she surrenders her 2^ei'son to secure these ends ! And if we admit the validity of such apologies, are we far from apologizing for the kept-mistress, and even the prostitute ? Nay, the former of these mai/ (if she con- fine herself to one man) plead more boldly in her de- fence; and e\en the latter may plead that hunger which knows no law, and no decorum, and no delicacy. 212 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. These unhappy, but justly-reprobated and despised parties, are allowed no apology at all : though reduced to the begging of their bread, the world grants them no excuse. The sentence on them is : " You shall suffer "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 disJionour "of the female sex" But can we, without crying in- justice, pass this sentence upon them, and, at the same time hold it to be proper, decorous, and delicate, that widows shall surrender their persons for worldly gain^ for the sake of ease, or for any consideration whatso- ever ? 223. It is disagreeable to contemplate the possibility 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 particular reprobation, and causing us to lament that there is no law to punish offenders so enor- moua 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 parents, 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 A BAD HUSBAI7D AN UNHAPPY MAN. 213 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 consequence as far as related to expense ; but he led the most scandalous life, and was incessant in his demands of money for the puiposes of that infamous life. All sorts of means were resorted to to reclaim him, and all in vain ; and the wretch, availing himself of the pleading of his wife's affection, and of his power over tlie ddldren more espe- cially; continued for ten or twelve years to plunder the parents, and to disgrace those whom it was his bounden 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, except, ing 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 indulging in vice by robbery, exposes himself to the inflictions of the law ; but though he merits punishment, he merits it less than the base miscreant who obtains his means bv his threats to dis- grace his own wife, children, and ilie 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 wherever it will avail you ; drive him from your house like a mad dog ; for, be assured, that a being so base and cruel i& never to be reclaimed ; all your efforts at persuasion are useless ; his promises and vows are made but to b© broken ; all your endeavours to keep the thing from the knowledge of the world only prolong his plundering of 214 ADVICE TO A HUSBAND. you ; and many a tender father and mother have been mined by such endeavours ; the whole story must come out at last, and it is better to come out before you be mined, than after your ruin is completed. 224. However, let me hope that those \^ho 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 marriage-vow, duly reflect on the great duties that that vow imposes (\n them; that they will repel from the outset every temptation to anything tending to give pain to the defenceless persons whose love for them has placed them at their mercy; and that they will imprint on their own minds this tmth, that a bad husband was never yet a happy man. )W • i..^ 21& LETTER V. ADVICE TO A FATHER. 225. " Little children," says the Scripture, " are like <' arrows in the hands of the giant, and blessed is the ''man that hath his quiver full of them;" a beautiful figure to describe in forcible terms the support, the * power, which a £either derives from being 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 uncertainty, no doubts, no misgiv- ings j it is yourselfth&t you see in your children : their bosoms are the safe repository of even the whispers of your mind : they are the great and unspeakable delight of your youth, the pride of j'^our 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 descnption. 226. But, to make them blessings, you must act your part well ; for they may, by your neglect, your ill-treat- ment, 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. « 216 ADVICE TO A FATHER. 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 tmoeasing influence over their minds ; and, above all things, to ensure, if possible, an ard&ni, love of tlieir mothw. Your first duty towards them is resolutely to prevent their drawing the means of life^om any breast btU hers. That is their oion; it is their birthrigJU ; and if that fail from any natural cause, the place of it ought to be supplied by those means which are frequentljy resorted to without employing a hireling breast. I 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 regard to myself, consequences at defiance. 228. In the first place, no food is so congenial to the child as the milk of its own mother ; its quality is made by nature 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 attended with great pain, and it is •0 attended in many cases : but this pain is a necessary consequence of pleasures foregone ; and, besides, it has its accompanying 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 endured this, the smiles came and dried up the tears ; and the little thing that had caused the pain received abundant kisses as its punishment. BEMARES ON NURSING. 217 229. Why, now, did I not love her tliemore for this? Did not this tend to rivet her to my heart ? She was enduring this for me; 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 tioo women, one to bear the chUd and another to give it milk ? Of all the sights that this world aiSbrds, the most delightful in my eyes, even to an unconcerned spectator, is a mother with her clean and fat baby lug- ging at her breast, leaving off now-and-then and smil- ing, and she occasionally half smothering it with kisses. What must that sight be, then, to the father of the child! 230. Besides, are we to overlook the great and won- derful effect that this has on the minds of children. As they succeed each other, they see with their own eyes the poin, the care, the caresses which their mother has endured for, or bestowed on, them ; and nature bids them lc»ve her accordingly. To love her ardently be- comes part of their very nature; and when the time comes that her advice to them is necessary 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 who 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. When this ceases, they are taugM to love their own mother most; but this teaching is of a cold aiid formal kind. They may, and 218 ADVICE TO A FATHEB. generally do, in a short time cftire little about the foster- mother; the teaching weans all their affection from her, but it does not transfer it to the other. 231. I had the pleasure to know, in Hampshire, a lady who had brought up a family of ten children by handf 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 hreaaf, and that she would not participate in the ciime of robbing another child of its birthright, and, as ^is mostly the case, of its life. Who has not seen these banished children, when brought and put into the arms of their mothers, screaming to get from them, and stretching out theii' little hands to get back into the arms of the nurse, and when safely g)!^ there hugging the hireling as if her bosom were a place of refuge i 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 and his wife % 232. And besides all these considerations, is there no crime in robbing the child of the nurse, and in exposing it to 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, indeed, every one must see that, generally speaking, there must be a child cast of 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 SEMABES ON NUBSINO. 219 -revail on delicacy so exquisite to commit itself to a pair of bridal sheets ? In spite, how- ever, of all this "refinement in the human mind," which is everlastingly dinned in our ears; in spite of the " mudl-cloihesy^ and of all the other affected stuff, we have this conclusion, this indubitable proof, of the fall- ing off in real delicacy; namely, that common prosti- tutes, formerly unknown, now swarm in our towns, and are seldom wanting even in our villages; and where theio was one illegitimate child (including those coming before 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 pro- ducing this change, so disgraceful to the present age and so injurious to the female sex? The prostitution and the swarms of illegitimate children have a natuitd and inevitable tendency ^> 23$ ADVICE TO A FATHEB. cottage wickets laden with fuel for a day or two; who- ever has seen thi-ee or four little creatures looking out for the father's approach running in to announce the glad tidings, and then scampering out to meet him, clinging round his knees or hanging on his skirts ; who- ever has witnessed scenes like this, to witness which has formed one of the greatest delights of mj life, will hesitate long before he prefer a life of ease to a life of labour; before he prefer a communication with children inter- cepted by servants and teachers to that communicatiW which is here direct, and which admits not of any divi- sion of affection. 252. Then comes the Sunday; and amongst all those who keep no servants a great deal depends on the man- ner in which the father employs that day. When there are two or three children, or even one child, the first thing after the breakfast (which is late on this day of rest) is to wash and dress the child or children. Then, while the mother is dressing the dinner, the father, being in his 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, aXl pass the c^rnoon togetiier. This used to bo the way of | life amongst the labouring people ; and from this way of life arose the most able and most moral people that the world ever saw, until grinding taxation tpok from them the means of obtaining a sufficiency of food and of raiment ; plunged the whole, good and bad, into one indiscriminate mass, under the degrading and hateful | name of paupers. PHYSICAL EDUCATION. 237 253. The working man, in whatever line, and whether in town or countiy, who spends his day ofretit or any part of it, except in case of absolute necessity, away from his wife and children, is not worthy of the name oifaihefr^ and is seldom worthy of the trust of any employer. Such absence argues a want of fatherly and of conjugal affection, which want is generally duly repaid by a similar want in the neglected parties; and though gtem authority may command and enforce obedience for awhile, the time soon comes when it will be set at defiance ; and when such a father, having no example, no proofs of love to plead, complains oiflicd ingraUiudef the silent indifference of his neighbours, and, which is more poignant, his own heart will tell him that his complaint is unjust 254. Thus far with regard to working people ; but much more necessary is it to inculcate these principles in the minds of young men in the middle rank of life, and to be moi% paHicular in their case with regard to the care due to very young children, for here servamta como in ; and many are but too prone to think that when I they have handed their children over to well-paid and I able servants they have done their duty by themf 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 the veiy birth, had a greater share than those of the latter of the Uwr«(ma/ attention and of the never-ceasing endearment! lof their parents. 0mfimmm>^" 238 ADVICE TO A FATHEB. 255. I have before urged upon young married men in the middle walks of life to keqi> the servants tnU o/tha house as long as possible; and when they must coii«.e at last, when they must be had even to assist in taking care of children, let them be assistants in the most strict sense of the word ; let them not be confded in; let children never be h/i to ihem aione; and the youngei* tile child the more necessary a rigid adherence to this rule. I shall be told, perhaps, by some careless father, or some play-hunting mother, that female servants are womeny and have the tender feelings of women. Vei) true ; and in general as good and kind in their naiun as the mother herself. But they are not the mothers of your children, and it is not in nature that they should have the care and anxiety adequate to the necessity of the case. Out of the immediate care and personal luperintendence of one or the other of the parents, or of some trusty rdaZumf no young child ought to be suffered to be, if there be, at whatever sacrifice of ease or of pro- perty, any possibility of preventing it : because, to insure^ if possible, the p^ect foi-m, the straight limbs, the sound body, and the sane mind of your children, is the very first of all your duties. To provide fortunes for them; to make provision for their future fame ; to give them the learning necessary to the calling for which yooj destine them : all these may be duties, and the last is i 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 tame mind in a sound and itw dsformed body. And, good God I how many are tbi{ instances of deformed bodies, of crooked limbs^ of idiocyt don't leave childben to servants. 239 or of deplorable imbecility proceeding 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 paraits feel who have brought this life>long sorrow on themselves ! When once the thing is done, to repent ia unavailing. And what is now the worth of all the ease and all the pleasm'es, to enjoy which the poor sufferer vas abandoned to the care of servants ! 256. What ' -.1 plead eocample, then, in support of this rigid i '\.t ? Did we, who have bred up a family of children, and ha\c had servants during the greater part of the time, neeer leave a young child to the care of servants ? Never ; no, not for one single kowr. Wert we, then, tied constantly to the house with them 1 No ; for we sometimes took them out ; bat one or the other of us was always wUh theni, until, in succession, they were able to take good care of them- lelves; or until the elder ones were able to take care of I the yoxmger, and then they sometimes stood sentinel iu I our stead. How could we visitf 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 stayed at home — the latter being very frequently my lot From this we never once deviated. We cast' aside all consideration of con- Tenience; all caloulations of expense; all thoughts of h)leagure r.f every sort. And what could have equalled Ithe reward that we have received for our oare and for our unshaken resolution in this respeot 1 240 ADVICE TO A FATHES. 257. In the rearing of children there is resolution wanting as well as tenderness. That parent is not tndy affectionate who wants the courage to do that which is sure to give the child temporary pain. A great deal in providing for the heMth 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 ojlen, from what I will not call idleness, but to which I cannot apply a milder term than neglect. Well and duly performed, it is an hour's good tight work ; for, besides the bodily labour, which is not veiy slight when the child gets to be five or six months old, there is the singing to over- power the voice of the child. The moment the stripping 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, BoussEAU taught me the philosophy of it. I happened, I by accident, to look into his " Emile,** and there I found him saying that the nurse subdued the voice of the child and made it quiet by drowning its voice in hen, and thereby making it perceive that it ooidd not ht\ heard, and that to continue to cry toas of no avwi\ " Here Nancy," said I (going to her with the book in my hand), " you have been a great philosopher all yonrl " life without either of us knowing it" A sUmt nunel is a poor souL It is a great disadvantage to the ohildl if llie mother be of a very silent, placid, quiet tuml don't leave CHILDBSSr TO SERVANTS. 241 The singing, the talking to, the tossing and rolling about that mothers in general practise, are very beneficial to the children : they give them exercise, awaken their attention, animate them, and rouse them to action. It is very bad to have a child even carried about by a dull, inanimate, silent servant, who will never talk, sing, or chirrup to it ; who will but just carry it about, always kept in the same attitude, and seeing and hearing nothing to give it life and spirit. It requires nothing but a dull creature like this, and the washing and dress- ing 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 mischief is done ; and a few months of neglect are punished by a life of mortification and sorrow not wholly unaccompanied with shame. 258. It is, therefore, a very spurious kind of tender- Iness that prevents a mother from doing the things which, though disagreeable to the child, are so neces- sary 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 servcmt, who has not, in such a case, either the patience or the courage that is neces- sary for the task. When the washing is over, and the child dressed in its* day-clothes, how gay and cheerful lit looks ! The exercise gives it appetite, and then dis- Iposes it to rfjst; and it sucks and sleeps and gix>ws, the Idelight of all eyes, and particularly those of the parents. \"l can't bear thcU sijudUingr I have heard men say; 242 ADVICE TO A TATHEB. and to which I answer, that " I can't bear mLch men!^ There.are, I thank God, very few of them ; for, if tiiey do not always rea8(m about the matter, honest nature teaches them to be considerate and indulgent towards little creatures so innocent and so helpless and so unoon- sdous of what they do. And the noiae : after all, why should it disturb a mani He knows the exact cause of it : he knows that it is the unavoidable consequence of a great good to his 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 Twe, and my occupation was one of those most liable to disturbance by noise. Many a score papers have I written amidst the noise of children, and in my whole life never bade 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 o, Scotch piper, whom an old lady, who lived beside us at Brompton, used to pay to come and play a long tune every day, I \ra8 obliged to bribe into a breach of contract. That which you are pleased vnth, however 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 pipe, awakening the idea of the lazy life I of the piper, better paid than the labouring man, drew the mind aside from its pursuit; and, as it refilly was a ' nuisanoe, occasioned by the money of my lieighbour, CRADLE r. NO CRADLE. 243 I thonght mjBelf justified in abating it by the same sort of means. 259. The cradle IB in poor families necessary; beoanse 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 " Matire d* Anglois,'' which has long been the first book in Europe, as well ^ in America, for the teaching of French people 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 seer iid child, we had no cradle, however difficult at firsti to do without it. When I was not at my business, it was generally my affair to put the child to sleep: sometimes by sitting with it in my arms, and sometimes by lying down on a bed with it, till it fell asleep. We soon found the good of this method. The children did not sleep so much, but they slept more soimdly. The cradle produces a sort of dozing ^ or dreaming sleep. This is a matter of great importance, as everything must be that has any influence on the health of children. The poor must use the cradle, at least until they have other children big enough tc hold the baby, and to put it to sleep; and it ils truly won- derful 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 com- mons, lugging a baby about, when it sometimes weighs half as much as the nurse. The poor mother is ire- '»^ r^^^^mmm 244 ADVICE TO A FATHER. qutntly compelled, in order to help to get bread for her children, to go to a distance from home, and leave the group, baby and all, to take care of the house and of themselves, the eldest of four or five, not, perhaps, above six or seven years old ; and it is quite surprising, that, oonsideiing the millions of instances in which this is done in England, in the course of a year, so very, very few accidents or iujuries arise from the practice; and not a hundredth part < so many as arise in the compara- tively few instances in which children are left to th^ caro of servants. In summer-time you see these little groups rolling about up ^he green, or amongst the heath, not far from the cottage, and at a mile, perhaps, from any other dwelling, the dog their only protector. And what fine and straight and healthy and fearless and aoute pei'sons they become ! It used to be remarked in Philadelphia, when I lived there, that there was not a •ingle man of any eminence, whether doctor, lawyer, merchant, trader, or anything else, that had not been bom^ and bred in the country, and of parents in a low •tate of life. Examine London, and you will find it much about the same. From this very childhood they alw from necessity entttiMed with the care of sometMn^ VtUttabk. They practically Icam to think, and to cal- culate as to consequences. They are thus taught to remember things; and it is quite sui'prising what memories they have, and how scrupulously a little carter-boy will deliver half-a-dozen messages, each of a different purport from the rest, to as many persons, all the messages committed to him at one and the same time, and he not knowing one letter of the alphabet ATTENTION TO A SICK CHILD. 245 from another. When I want to 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 me so and so. He is sure to do it; and I therefore look upon the memorandum as written down. One of these children, boy or girl, is much more worthy of being entrusted with the care of a baby, anybody'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 yot«r baby. Ma'am; her mind being absorbed in contemplating the interesting circumstances which ara 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 sacred trust to anybody. 260. The cowrage of which I have spoken, so neces- sary in the case of washing the children in spite of their screaming remonstrances, is, if possible, more necessary in cases of illness, requiring the application of medicine, or of svrgicai means of cure. Here the heart is put to the test indeed 1 Here is anguish to be endured by a mother, who has to force down the nauseous physic, or to apply ^he tormenting plaster! Yet it is the mother, or the father, and more properly the former, who is to perform this duty of exquisite pain. To no nurse, to no hireling, to no alien hand, ought, if possible to avoid jH^pmmm-m^:' 2*6 ADVICE TO A FATHER. it, ttds task to be committed; I do not admire tHose mothers who are too tender-liea/r^d to inflict this pain on their children, and who, therefore, leave it to be inflicted by others. Give me the mother who, while the tears stream down her face, l^s the resolution scrupulously to execute, with her own hands, the doctor's commands. Will a servant, will any hireling do this? Committed to such hands, the least trotthle wfll be preferred to the greater: the thing will, in general, not be half done; and if done, the sufferihg from such hands is for 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 ofiice* Here Hfe 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 in- stances, where goodness in the parents towards the children gives such weight to their advice when the children grow up, what a motive to filial gratitude! The children who are old enough to discern and remember, will witness this proof of love and self- devotion in their mother. Each of them feels ]khat she has done the same towards them all; and they love her and admire and revere her accordingly. 261. This is the place to state my opinions, and the result of my experience, with regard io that fearful disease the Small-Pox; a subject, too, to -which I have paid great attention. I was always^ from the very first mention of the thing, opposed to the Cow- Foz scheme. If efficacious in preventing the Small- « COW-POX TACClNATIOir NOT EFFECTUAL. Fox, I objected to it merely on tiie score of it« heaa^ ness. There are some things, snrelj, more hideous than death, and more resolutely 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 chil- dren of that parent I, therefore, as will be seen in the pages of the Register of that day, most strenuously opposed the giving of twenty tftouaemd pounds to Jenner ovA of the taxesy paid in great part by the working-people, which I deemed and asserted to be a scandalous waste of the public money. 262. I contended that this beastly application could mtf in ncUuref he effkamyue in preventing the Small- Pox; and thai, even if efficacious for that purpose, it vm whoUy unneoesBwry. The truth of the former of these assertions has now been proved itn thouecmde tipon ifunjuands of inatanoea. For a long time, for ten yea/n, the contrary was boldly and bravely asserted. This nation is fond of quackery of all sorts; and this paav ticular 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 " BOYAL Jewnerian Inatituiionf** and Branch Institutions, issuing from the par^it^ trunk, set in- stantly to work, impi'egnating the veins of the rising and enlightened generation with the beastly matter. ** Qentlemen and ladies" made the commodity a pocket^ companion; and if a cottager^s child (in Hampshire at ever seen by them, on a common, were not ADVICE TO A FATHSn. ■4 pretty quick in takiz^g to its heels, it had to cany off ,^6x3p or less of the disease of the cow. One would %k^- 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, ilb wbich tiie doctors, after having found it in vain to resist, had yielded, the real smaU-poXf in its worst form, broke out in the town of Binowood, in Hampshire, and carried off, I believe (I have not the account at hand), morf. than a hundred persons, young and old, every one of whom had tiad the cow-pox "so nicely t" And what was now said? Was the quackeiy exploded, and were the granters of the twenty thousand pounds ashamed of what they had done? Not at all: the failure was imputed to unskU/td operators; to the stateness of tk matter: to its not being of the genuine qitality. Ad- mitting all this, the scheme stood condemned ; for the great advantages held forth were, that anybody migU perform the operation, and that the matter was every- where abundant, and cost free. But these were paltxy excuses; the mere shuffles of quackery; for what do we know now? Why, that in kimdreds of instances, persons cow-poxed by JENNEE 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 con- cerned being living and well-known, one of them to the whole nation, and the other to a very numerous circle in the higher walks of life. The first is Sib BicHABD Philups, SO Well known by his able writings, COW-POX VACCINATION NOT EPPECTUAL. 349 and equally well known by his exemplary conduct as Sheriff of London, and by Ifis life-long labours in the cause of real charity and humanity. Sir Richard bad, I think, two sons, whose veins were impregnated by the grantee himself. At any rate he had one, who had, severar years after Jenner had given him the insuri- g matter, a veiy hard struggle for liis 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 Maidstone, in Kent, who has a son that had a very narrow escape under the real small-pox, about four years ago, and who also had been cow-poxed ly Jenner himsdf. This 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.^* Where iv a I, going into the garden to the father, said, " I do hopey " 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 hinudf.** What answer I gave, what names and epithets I bestowed upon Jenner and his quackery, I 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 ■ I #^!llP«w^v 250 ADVICE TO A FATHEB. if I recollect rightly,- there were several other "vac- cinated" youths who did the same at the same time. Quackery, however, has always a shuffle left. Now that the cow-pox has been jyroved to be no gua/taniee against the smaJl-pox, it makes it " milder " when it comes ! A pretty shuffle, indeed, this ! You are to be all your 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 seas), it will be " milder!" It was not too mild to kiU at BiNGWOOD, and its mildneaSf in the case of yovng Mr. Codd, did not restrain it from hlhiding him for a suitable number of days. I shall not easily forget the alarm and anxiety of the father and mother upon this occasion; both of them the best of parents, and both of them now punished for having yielded to this fashion- able quackery. I will not say, justly punished ; 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-obviating quackery, This, too, is the case with other parents; but parents should be under the influence of reaaon and eocperienct as well as under that of affection ; and now, at any rate, they ought to set this really dangerous quackery at naught. ' 265. And what does my own experience say on the other sidel 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 succession, inoculated vrith the good old-fashioned face-tearing small-pox; neither of them with a single mark of that disease on their akioB; neither of them having been, that we THE OLD METHOD OF INOCULATION PREFERABLE. 251 other "vac- coTild perceive, iU for a single hour in consequence of the inocuktion. When we were in the United States, we observed that the Americans were- nefoer ma/rked with the small-pox; or, if such a thing were seen, it was very rarely. The cause we found to be, the uni- versal practice of having the children inoculated at the breast, and, generally, r.t a month or six loeeh old. When we came to have children we did the same. I believe that some of oui^s have been a few months old when the operation has been performed, but always while at the hreoM, 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 account of some cr/cumstance or other; but, with these exceptions, done at, or before, the end of six weeks from the birth, and always ai the breast. All is thenjMtre; 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 "1^ Lorn we could place perfect confidence: we had I their solemn word for the matter coming from some ImUhy child: and, at last, we had sometimes to wait for this, the cow-afiair having rendered patients of I this sort rather rare. * ^66. While the child has the small-pox, the mother I should abstain from food and drink, which she may I require at other times, but which might be too gross just now. To suckle a heaiiy child requires good lliving; for, besides that this is necessary to the mother, lit is also necessary to the child. A little forbearance, ;. 252 ADVICE TO A PATHEB. 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 Iwt or very cold weather. 267. There is now, however, this inconvenience, that the greater part of the present young women havo ' been he-Jeivnered; so that they may catch tlie beatUy- Hlling disease from tlieir babies! To hearten them up, however, and more especially, I confess, to record a ti-ait of maternal affection and of female heroism, which I have never heard of anything to surpass, I have the pride to say that my wife had eight children inoculated at* her breast, and never had tJie 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 condition that she would be inoculated too. This was done with three or four of the childreo, I think, she always being reluctant to have it done, 8t\ying that it looked like distrusting the goodness of God. There was, to be sure, very little in this argu- ment; but the long experience wore away the alarm; and there she is now, having had eight children hanging at her breast with that desolating disease in them, and she never having been afiected by it from first to last. All her children know, of course, the risk that she voluntarily incurred for them. They all have this indubitable proof that she valued their lives above her own ; and is it in nature that they should ever wilfully do anything to wound the heart of that mother; and must not her bright example have great efiect on their character and conduct! Now, my PROPER MANAGEMI»T OF CHILDREN. 253 I opinion is, that the far greater part of English or 1 American women, if placed in the above circumstances, would do just the same thing; and I do lope that I those who have yet to be mothers will seriously think of putting an end, as they have the power to do, to the disgraceful and dangerous quackery, the evils of which I have so fully proved. 268. But there is, in the management of babies, some- thing besides life, health, strength and beauty; and something too, without which all these put together are nothing worth; and that is sanity ofmiind. There are, owing to various causes, some who are horn idiots; but a great many more become insane from the misconduct, or neglect, of parents; 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 idiot for life by being, when about three years old, shut into a daik closet, by a maid-servant, in order to terrify it into silence. The thoughtless creature first menaced it with sending it to " tJi/e had place,'' 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 ina^. It recovered from that, but w.is for life an idiot When the parents, who had been out two days and two n^hts on a visit of pleasure, came home, they were told that the child had had a Jit; but they were not told the cause. The girl, however, who was a neigh- bour's daughter, being on her death-bed about ten years afterwards, could not die in peace without sending for 254 ADVICE TO A FATREB. the mother of the child (now become a young man) and asking forgiveness of hv,r. The mother herself waa, however, the greatest offender of the two : a whole life- time of sorrow and of mortification was a punishment too light for hiv ad 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 killed^ at Birming- ham, I think it was, by being thus frightened. Ths parents had gone out into what is called an evemn,"; party. The servants, naturally enough, had their pkrtf at home; and the mistress, who, by some unexpected 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. Slie found it with its eyes open, hut Jixed; touching it, she found it inanimate. The doctor was sent for in vain: it was quite dead. The maid affected to know nothing of the cause; but some one of the parties assembled discovered, pinned up to the curtains of the bed, a Jwrrid figure, 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 sufiiciently strong to express the abhorrence due to the peri^trator of this crime, which was, in fact, a cruel murder; aiitl, if it was beyond the reach of the law, it was so and is ■0, because, as in the cases of parricide, the law, in CAUSES OF INSAKITT B7 CHILDREN. 255 making no provision for punishment peculiarly severe, has, out of respect to human nature, supposed such crimes to be impossible. But if the girl was criminal ; if death, or a xne of remorse, was her due, what was the due of her parents, and especially of the mother ! And wliat was the due of the father, who suffered that mother, and who, perhaps, tempted her to neglect her most gacred duiy ! 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 dis- covered. The insanity would have been ascribed to ^^hrain-fever,'* or to some other of the usual causes of in- sanity; or, as in thousands upon thousands of instances, to some unaccountable cause. When I was, in No. IX., paragraphs from 227 to 233, both inclusive, main- taining with all my might, the xiiialienable light of the child to the milk of its mother, I omitted, amongst the evils arising from banishing the child fiom the mother's breast, to mention, or, rather, it had never occurred to me to mention, the loss of reason co the poor, iunocent creatures thus banished. And ^.low, as co nected with this measure, I have an argument of eji^erierice, enough to terrify every young mo a and woman upon earth from the thoTight of coramitting this offence against nature. I wrote Ko. iX. at CAMBRiDaT3, on Sunday, the 28th of March ; and before I quitted Shrewsbury, on the 14th of May, the following facta reached my ears, A very respectable traJesman, who, with his wife, have led a most industrious life, in a town that it is not ne- cessary to name, said to a gentleman that told it to me: 256 ADYICE TO A FATHER. ; (,, « I wish to God I had read No. IX. of Mr. Cobbett's *• * Advice to Young Men* fifteen years ago !" He t!i8Ti related that he had had ten children, all put o-ni to h suckledf in consequence of the necessity of his htwiuft the mother's assistance to carry on his buaineaa; arid that two out of the ten had come homo idioti'.; though the rest were all sane, and tho.igh insanity had never been known in the family of either ftxther or mother! These parents, whom I myself saw. are very clever people, and the wife singularly indu&trious and exptr; in her n (Tairs. 271. !Mow the motive, in this case, imquestion^bl; was good ; it was that the mother's valual)le time might, as much as possible, be devoted to the earning of a competence for her children. But, alas ! what is this competence to these two unfortunate beings! 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 insanity of- their brother and sister, exciting as it must, in all their circle, and even in tliemselveSf suspicions of their own peifect soundness of mind! When weighed against this consideration, what is all the wealth in the world ! And as to the parents, where are they to find compensation for sucli a calamity, embittered additionally too, by the reflec- tion, that it was in their power to prevent it, and that nature, with loud voice, cried out to them to prevent it ? Money ! Wealth acquired in consequence of this banishment of these poor children; these victims of this, I will not call it avarice, but over-eager love of gain ! wealth, thus acquired ! What wealth can ecu- * EDUCATION OF CUILDBEN. 257 sole these parents for the loss of reason in these chil- dren! Where is the father and the mother, who would not rather see their children ploughing in other men's £ 'ds^and sweeping other men's houses, than led about p^i m or houses of their own, objects of pity even of the menials procured by their wealth? 272. If what I have now said be not sufficient to dtier a man from suffering any consideration, no matter whxti to induce him to ^legate the care of his children, when very young, to anybody whomsoever, nothing that I can say can possibly have that effect ; and I will, there- fore, now proceed to offer my advice with regard to the management of childi*en when they get beyond the danger of being crazed or killed by nurses or servants. 273. We here come to the subject of education in the trm sense of that word, which is rearing up, seeing that the word comes from the Latin educo, which means to Ireed up, or to rear up, I shall, afterwards, have to speak of education in the now common acceptation of the word, which makes it mean book-learning. At present, I am to speak of education 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 " education du Cochon, de T Allouette," dec, that is, of the hog, the lark, 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 bo 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, ^s to the mind, constant B ■' f 258 AIWIQE TO A WMTBESL good oooampU in the parents. Of the latter I shall speik more by-and-fh^r. Winew Yarmouth, a new Lynn, a new Boston, and a new Hull, and the ooimtiy heelf they called, and their lescendants still call it) NlW EffQLAJO). This country of the best and boldest of seamen, and of the most moral and happy peo^e ii ihe world, is also ^le country of the tallest and abLest* bodied men' in the wcarld. And why 1 Because, froD tliair wwj bixth, they have an oAimdcmGe ai good food; CHILDBEN SHOULD IfiB PBOPERLY FED. 25d not only oijbod, but of ridi food. Even 'when the chUd . is at the breast, a strip of beef-steaky or somethiog of that description, as big and as long as one's finger, is put into its hand. When « baby gets a thing in its hand, the first thing it does is to poke some part of it into its mouth. It cannot hUe 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 yiew, an unim- portant matter. A tail man is, wl^ther as labourer, carpenter, bridklayer, soldier, or sailor, or almost any- thing else, wor^ 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 fiuster; in mowing grass or com he takes a wider swarth; in pitching he wants a shorter Jprong ; in making buildings, he does not so soon want a laddm* or a scaffold ; in fighting he keeps his body fartJier from the point of his sword. To be sure> a men mo^ be taU and weak: but this is the exertion and not the rule: height and loeight and Oreng^ in men, as in speechless animals, generally go tog^her. Aye, and in enterprise and courage too, the powera of the body have a great deal to do. Doubt^ less there are, have been, and always will be, great numbers of small and enterpnoing and brave men ; but it knot in natumf that, gemraUy speaking , i^oee who are conscious <^ their inferiorily in point of bodily strength, should possess the boldiiQW of those i^o have a oontnuy desoriptiaak i I 260 ADVICE TO A FATHEa 277. To what but this difference in the size and strength of the opposing combatants are we to ascribe the ever-to-be-blushed-at events of our last war against the United States! The hecirts of our seamen and soldiers were as good as those of the Yankees : on both sides they had spnmg from the same stock : on botii 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 supe- rior prowess : yet when, with our whole undivided strength, and to that strength adding the flush and pride of victory and conquest, crowned even in jtlie capital of France; when, with all these tremendous advantages, and with all the nations of the earth look- ing on, we came foot to foot and yard-arm to yard-arm with the Americans, the result was such as an EnglisH pen refuses to describe. What, then, was the great catise of this result, which filled us with shame, and the world with astonishment? Not the want of coimye 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 soldiers 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 ente^ prise from a consciousness of that strength. 278. Why are abstinence and fasting enjoined by the Catholic Church) Why, to make men hwrnhUf Tnede, 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 necessary to CniLDREZr SHOULD BE PROPEBLT FED. 261 I size and to ascrilw ar against amen and i: on both : on both laterials of s on ours: our supe- undivided » flush and )ven in (the tremendous earth look- to yard-arm I an EnglisH is the great ime, and the b of cov/ragi '(d causes at uperiority of the enemy's on each side; ■ength; and, iaring enter oinedbythe itmble, nmk, this is visible Ells. So that necessary to the forming of a stout and able body than to the form- ing of an active and enterprising spirits Poor food, short allowance, while they check the growth of the child's body, check also the daring of the mind ; and, therefore, the starving or pinching system ought to be avoided by all means. Children should eat o/Un, and as much as they like at a time. They will, if at full heap, never take, ofplmn/ood, more than it is good for them to take. They may, indeed, be stuffed with cakes and stoeet things till they be ill, and, indeed, until they bring on dangerous disorders : but, of meat plainly and wdl cookedf and of hreadf they will never swallow the tenth part of an ounce more than it is necessary for th^m to swallow. Bipe fruit, or cooked fruit, if no swedening 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 pamperings come, the doctor must soon follow with his drugs, ihe blowing out of the bodies of children with tea, coffe ?, 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 bare- boned at the same time; and it effectually prevents the frame from becommg 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 Ivety well, provided they have plenty of good mecU, lOheese and butter do very well for part of the day. [Puddings and pies; but always udtlunU sugar, which, 262 AOYICB TO A FATHEB. soy -vidiat people will about the wJidesomemat of it, is not only of na ute in the reaiiag of children, but inju* nous : it forces an appetite : like strong drink, it makes daily encroachments on the taste: it wheedles down that which the stomach does not want : it finally pro- duces illness : it is one of the curses of the countiy; for it, by taking off the bitter taste of the tea and coffee, is the great cause of sending d«wn into the stomach those quantities of warm water by which the body is debili- tEubed and deformed, and the mind enfeebled. lam addresaiiig myself to persons in the middle walk of jlife; but no parent can be atvre that his child will not \» compelled to labour hard for its daily bread : and then, how vast is the difference between one who has been panqtered' widi: sweets, and one who has been reared ca plain food and simple drink ! 279. The next thing affcer goodand plentiful and plain ibod is good adr. This is not within the reach of evei; one; but, to obtun it ;i& worth great sacrifices in other respects. We know that there are ameUa which will cause iiMtcmt dealh; we know, that there' are othen which win cause death m a few yea/rs; and^ therefote^ we know tiutt it is the duty of parents to provide, if possible, against this danger to the health of their offipring. 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 tb dire choice of sickly children, children with big headtij small limbs, and ricketty joints: or children seut ti] the poor-house : when this is his hard lot, he mi decide for the former sad alternative : but before H ADYAirrAOES OF GOOD AIR. 263 will convince me that this ia his lot, he must, prove to me, that he and his wife expend not a penny in the decoration of their persons; that on his table, morning, 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 necesh spry to sustain life and health. How mai^ scores and how many hundreds of m^n 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 winoj^ would keep, and keep well, in the country, a considerable part of the year, &wife sur- rounded by healthy children, 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 labour^', however poor, is paradise. Tell me not of l^e neoes* sity oi providing monei/for iSiem, even if you waste not a farthii^ : you can provide them with no money equal in value to health and straight limbs imd ^odlooifaai: these it is, if vdthin your power, your homadm, dut^ tia provide for them : as to providing them with money* you deceive yourself; it is your own avarice, or vanily, that you are seeking to gratify, and not to insure the good of your children. Their most precious possession y&heakh and atrmigth; and you have na righi 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 yonundf that 261 ADVICE TO A FATHER. you act in such a case; and you, however you may deceive yourself are guilty of injustice towards them. You would be ashamed to see them without fortum; but not at all ashamed to see them without straight limbs, without colour in their cheeks, without strength, without activity, and with only half their due portion of reason. 280. Beside? sweet air^ children want exercise. Even when they are babies in arms, they want tossing and pulling about, and want talking and singing to. Thej should be put upon their feet by slow degrees, accord- ing to the strength of their legs; and this is a matter which a good mother will attend 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 be/ore, and never on the side of their face. If they appear, when they begin to talk, 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 precau- tions are amongst the most sacred of the duties of parents; for, remember, the deformity is /or life; a thought which will iill every good parent's heart with solicitude. All swaddling and tight-covering are mis- chievous. They produce distortions of some sort or other. To let children creep and roll about till they get upon their legs of 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 EXERCISE. 205 birtb, 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 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 taking of that exercise, when they begin to be what are called boya and girUf in a way that shall tend to give them the greatest degree of pleasure, accompanied with the smallest risk of pain: in other words, to mctke timr 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 usBy then, all the restraints, all the priva- "tions, all the pain, that you have inflicted upon him? "He falls, and leaves your mind to bi*ood 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 impression upon my mind, just at the time, too, when T 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 impor- tunities, 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 anything like fashion, all the means of obtaining famo or diatinction, to give up everything, to become a 266 ADVICE TO A FATHEB. common labourer rather than make my cliildren lead » life of restraint and rebuke; I could not ))e awre 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 description, at defiance. 282. Now, proceeding to relate what was, in this respect^ my line of conduct, I am not pretending that inery man, and particularly every man living in a town, «an, in all respects, do an I did in the rearing up of ehildren. But, in many respects, any man may, wha';- ever may be his state of life. For I did not lead an idle life; I had to work constantly for the means' of living; my occupation required unremitted attention; I had nothing but my labour to rely on ; and I had no ficiend, to whom, in case of need, I could fly for assist- ance : I always saw the possibility, and even the proba bility, 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, my children should lead happy lives ; and happy lives they did lead, if ever children did in this whole world. 283. The first thing that I did, when the fourth child had come, was to get into the cou/ntry, and so iu as to I'ender 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 alv)ay8 at Jwme was secured as far as possible; always with them to set an example of early rising, sobriety, OUT DOOR PURSTTITS. 267 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 pur- suits as combined future utility with present innocence. Each his flower-bed, little garden, plantation of trees; rabbits, dogs, asses, horses, pheasants and hares; hoes, apades, whips, guns ; always some object of lively interest, and as much eamestne88 and hiiatle about the various objects as if our living bad solely depended upon theuL I made everything give way to the great object of making their lives happy and innocent. 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 in- jurious to the mind to press hook-leaming upon it at an early 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 somftim'^s not known which way to look, when a mothor (anr too often, a father), whom I could not but respect on account of her fondness fc* her child, has forced the feeble-voiced eighth wonder of the world, tc ..'and with its little hand stretched out, spouting the soliloquy of Hamlet, or some such thing. I remember, on one occasion, a little pale-faced creature, only five yeai-s old, was brought in, after the feeding part of the dinner was over, first to take his i-cgular half-glass of vintner's brewings, commonly called wine, and then to treat us to a di8j)lay of his wonderful genius. The subject was a speech of a robust and bold youth, in a 268 ADVICE TO A FATHER. 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 boys and I), he, after a silence of half-a-mile perhaps, rode up close to the side of my horse, and said, " Papa, « where he the Grampian hith ? " " Oh," said I, " they " are in Scotland; poor, barren, beggarly places, covered " with heath and rushes, ten times as barren as Shevril " Heath." « But," said he, " how could that little boy's "father feed hia flocks there, then?" I was ready to tumble off the hoi*se with laughing. 284. I do not know anything much more distressing to the spectators tht.n exhibitions of this sort. Every one feels, not for the child, for it is insensible to tho uneasiness it excites, but for the parents, whose arai- able 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 especi- ally the fond mother, looks sharply round for the 80-evidently merited applause, as an actor of the iiame 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 moraentp of my life, I verily believe, that, after due considera- tion, I should fix upon those, in which parents, whom I have respected, have made me endure exhibitions like AVOID EXHIBITINO TOUB CHILDBEN. 269 these; for, this is your choice, to be insincere^ or to give offence. 285. And, as towards the child, it is to be unjustf 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 conceited. 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 another; 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 operation. Now, parents have no right thus to indulge their own feelings at the risk of the happiness of their children. 286. The gi'eatSr matter is, however, the spoiling of e mind by forcing on it thoughts which it is not fit I to receive. We know well, we daily see, that in men, as well as in other animals, the body is rendered com- paratively small and feeble by being heavily loaded, or Ihard worked, before it arrive at size and strength pro- Iportioned to such load and such work. It is just so with itlie mind : the attempt to p\it 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. Che mind, as well as the body, requires time to come its strength; and the way to have it possess, at last, It3 natural strength, is not to attempt to load it too oon ; and to favour it in its progress by giving to the l)ody good and plentiful food, sweet air, and abundant percise, accompanied with as little discontent or 270 ADVICE TO A FATBEB. t^i. uneasiness as possible. It is nniversally 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 many cases, sufficient to de^roy the body. This, then, being so well known, is it not the first duty of a father to secure to his children, if possible, sound and strong bodies 1 Lord Bacon says, that " a soimd mind in a sound body is the greatest of " God's blessings." To see his children possess these, therefore, ought to be the first object with every father; an object which I cannot too often endeavour to fix in his mind. 287. I am to speak presently of that sort of learning which is derived from booksy and which is a matter by no means to be neglected, or to bft thought little o^ seeing that it is the road, not only to fame, but to the means of doing great good to one's neighbour's and to one's country, and, thereby^ of adding to those plea!:::.iit £eelings which are, in other words, our happiness. But, notwithstanding this, I must here insist, aud endeavour to impress my opinion upon the mind of I every father, that his children's hctppinesa ought to lie | his Jirst object; that book-learning, if it tend to mili- tate against his, jught to be disregarded; and that, as I to money, t/rmUoorihyy and to be merciful and humane. We livedi ui a garden of about two acres, partly kitchen-garden>. with walls, partly shrubbery and trees, and partly grass. There were the peaclieef as tempting as any that ever* grew, and yet as safe from fingers as if no child weroi ever in the garden. It was not necessary to foHnd, The blackbirds, the thrushes, 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 spo^ , constantly the play-place of six children ; land one of the latter had its nest, and brought up its JUDg-oues, in a raepberry-buthf within two yards of * 278 ADVICE TO ▲ ruTam. walk, and at the time that we were gathering the ripe raspberries. We ^ve dogs, and justly, great credit for sagacity- and memory; but the following two moit curious instances, which I should not vesture to state, if there were not so many witnesses to the fiicts, la Wf 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 ikylark is a very shy bird; that its abode is the open fieldi: that it settles on the gro'ind only; that it seeks safetj in the wideness of space; that it avoids enclosures and is never seen in gardens. A part of our ground waa i grass-plat of about forty rodSf or a quarter of an am, which, one year, was left to be mowed for hay. A pair of larks, coming out of the fields into the middle of a prettj p jpulous village, chose to make their nest in the middle of this little spot, and at not more than about th/iii^- five yards from one of the doors of the house, in wbicli there were about twelve persons lining, and six of thm \ children, who had constant access to all parts of the I ground. There we saw the cook rising up and singing, { then taking his turn upon the eggs ; and by-and-br observed him cease to sing, and saw them ^'A. stanUy engaged in bringing food to tlis young one^, Koi unintelligible hint to fathers and mothers of the humu race, who have, before marriage, taken delight in mm\ But the time came for mowing the grass f I waited il good many days for the brood to get away ; but, at kil|| I determined on the day; and if the larks were thenl still, to leave a patch of grass standing round them. Iif order not to keep them in dread longer than neoesiaijJ KXROY Aim HUMANITT. 279 I brought three able mowers, who would cut the whole in about ao hour; and as the plat was nearly circular, set them to mow TonMid^ beginning at the outside. And now for sagacity indeed ! The moment the men began to whet their scythes, the two old larks began to flutter oyer 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, makiug a great chattering at the same time ; but before the men had got round with the second gwarth, they flew to the nest, and away they went, yooog ones and all, across the rirer, at the foot of the ground, and settled in the long grass in my neighbour's orchard. 295. The other instance relates to a IIouse-mabten. 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 houaey and upon the top of a common door- owe, 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 day-time; but were obliged to fitst^i it at night It went on, had eg^, young ones, and the young ones flew. I used to open the door in the morn- ing early, and then the birds carried on their affidrs till night. The next y«ur the marten came again, and had ano&yer brood m the same place. It found its old nest; and having repaired it, and put it in order, went on again in the former way; and it would, I dare say, have continued to oome to the end of its life, if we had re- 280 ADVICE TO A FATHER. mained there so long, notwithstanding there were six healthy children in the house, making just as much noise as thej pleased. 296. Now, what sagaoUy in these birds, to discover that those were places of safety ! And how happy must it 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 hak, that whatever appearances may say to the contrary, crudiy is always accompanied with poioardieef and also with perfidy i when that is called for by the circumstances of the case; and that habitual acts of cruelty to i other creatures, will, nine times out of ten, produce, whin the power is possessed, cruelty to human beings. The ill- usage of horses, and particularly asseSf is a grave imd a just charge against this nation. No other nation on earth is guilty of it to the same extent. Not only bj blowSf but by privation, are we cruel towards these useful, docile, and patient creatures; and especially towards the last, which is the most docile and patient and laborious of the two, while the food that satisfies it is oi the coarsest and least costly kind, and in quantity so small I In the habitual ill-treatment of this animal, which, in addition to all its labours, has the milk taken from its young ones to administer a remedy for our ailments, there is something that bespeaks ingratitudt hardly to be described. In a Register that I wrote from Long Ishind, I said, that amongst all the things of which I had been bereft, I regretted no one so much as a very diminutive mare, on which my children ha^l all, in lacoesnon, learnt to ride. She was become useless for BCOK-LBABNIKO. 281 them, and, indeed, for any other purpose; but the re- collection of her was so entwined with so many past circumstances, which, at that distance, my mind conjured np, that I really was veiy uneasy, lest she should fall into cruel hands. By good luck, she was, after awhile, 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 foresi we brought her 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 (considering my ability to pay for keep) to deprive her of life; but it would be wijutt, and imgraie/ul 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 impeixseptible degrees. Children naturally want to be like their parents, and to do what tiuiy do: the boys following their father, and the girla their mother; and as I was always writing or reading, mine naturally desired to do something in the same iray. But, at the same time, they heard no talk from fwM or drinkers; saw me with no idle, gabbling, empty companions; saw no vain and affected 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 vp ow epirite : our various pleasing pursuits were quite 282 ADTIOB TO ▲ FATHEB. snfficieiit for that; and the hook-learning came amongBt the rest of the pleastaresy to which it wbb, in some tsort, necessary. I cemooiber that^ one jeair, I raised a pro- digious crop of fine vuhm, under hand'i^aflses; and I learned how to do it from a gardening hook; or, at least, that book was necessary to remind me of l^e detaik Haying passed part of an evening in talking to the boys abont getting this crop> "Come/' said J, "now, " \etMs,nad thu hook.** Then the book carme ferth, asd to work we went, following very strictly the precepti of the book. I cead the thing but once, but the eldesi boy read it, perha|»,. twenty times over ; and expflained all about the matter to the otherK Why here was a moiim/ Then he had to tell the garden-labourer wki to do ix> the melons. Now, I will engage^ that more was really learned by this sin^e leeeonf than wtmld have been learned by spending^ at this son's age, a yev at school; and he happy and ddighted «& the whila When any dispute arose amongst them' about hunting or shooting, or any other of their pursuits^ they, hj degrees^ found out the way of settling it by reference to aome book; and ^en any difficulty occurred aa to tilie meaning, they nefemed to me, who, if at home, akoagi inekmify aUended tO' Ikem, in these matters. 299. They began; writing by taking words oat of printed hooka; finding out which letter wis which, bj addiig me, ora^kisg 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 lib mine, very small, wery &int>stroked> and nearly phun tm print The first use that any one of them made d ADYAMTAOEB OF BOXI EDUOATZOV. 283 the pen, vma to toriU to m$f though in the same house with them. They began doing this in mere iorakkea, 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 w/re to xeoeive a prompt agmoeft with most eneowagmg oompliments. All the meddlings and teaxings of friends, and, what was more serioiis, the pressing prayers of their anxious mother, about sending them to iehool, I withstood without the dightest effect on my resolution. As to friends, pre- loriDg my own judgment to theirs, I did not care much; but an expresnon of anxiety, implying a doubt of the soundness of my own judgment, coming, perhaps, twenty times a-Saj. from her whose care they were as ▼dll as mine, was not a matter to smile at, and very great trouble it did give me. My answer at last was, as to the boys, I want them to be Wte me; and as to the girls, in whose hands can they be so safe as in yours? Therefore my resolution is taken : go to eehool A/ey shaU not, « 300. iN'othing is much more annoying than the inter- meddling qf JriendSf in a case like this. The vn£e appeals to them, and *^good breeding," that is to say, [I Tumsenaef is sure to put them on her eide. Then, they, particularly the woman, when describing the ewrprising progress made by their own tone at school, used, if one of mine were present, to turn to him, and aak to what Bchool he went, and what he was leaimmg ? I leave any one to judge of hie opinion of her; and whether he would like her the better for that i ** Bless me, so tall, "and not homed anything yet/" **0h, yes, he has," 284 ADVICE TO A FATHKR. I used to say, " he has learned to ridoi and hunt, and ''shoot, and fish, and look after cattle and sheep, and ''to work in the garden, and to feed his dogs, and to " go from Tillage to village in the dark." This was the way I used to manage with troublesome oustomers of this sort And how glad the children used to be when they got clear of such criticising people 1 And how grateful they felt to me for the protioUon which they saw that I gave them against that state of restraint, of which other people's boys complained t Go whither they might, they found no place so pleasant as home, and no soul that came near them affording them ao many means of gratification as they received from ma 301. In this happy state we lived, until the year 1810, when the government laid its merciless fbgi upon me, dragged from me these delights, and crcmmii me into a jail amongst feUm$; of whichi I shall have to speak more fully, when, in the last Number, I come to speak of the duties of thb OiTizmr. This added to the difficulties of my task of teaohing; for now I vm snatched away from the only scene in which it could, as I thought, properly be executed. But even theie difficulties were got over. The blow was, to be sure, i terrible one; and, oh God I how was it felt by these poor children ! It waa in the month of Jt|ly when the horrible sentence was passed upon me. My wife^ having left her children in the care of her good and affisctionate sister, was in London, waiting to know the doom of her husband. When the news arrived it Botley, the three boys, one eleven, another nine, and the other seven, years old, were hoeing cabbages in thit AFFECTION OF THB AX7THOB*8 CHILDBElf. 285 guden 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 inade to understand what a jail was; and, when he did, he, all in a tremor, exclaimed, " Now, I'm sure, « William, that Papa is no ' in a place like that T The other, in order to disguise his tears and smother his sobs, fell to work with thd hoe, and chopped about like a Uin^ pereon. This a,ccount, when it reached me, affected me more, filled me with deeper resentment, than any other circumstance. And, oh I how I despise the wretches who talk of my vindictivene8»; of my exul- taiion at the confusion of those who inflicted those sufferings ! How I despise the base creatures, the crawl- ing slaves, the callous and cowardly hypocrites, who affect to be "shocked" (tender souls!) at my expres- sions of joy, and at the death of Gibbs, Ellenbobouoh, Perceval, Livebpool, Canning, and the rest of the tribe that I have ak'eady seen out, and at the fatal workings of tluU syetenif 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! What! I am to |foi|riye, am I, injuries like this; and, that, too, without ty atonement? Oh, no! I have not so read the Holy iiptures; I have not, from them, learned that I am iOt to rejoice at the fall of unjust foes ; and it makes a of my happiness to be able to tdl mUlione of that I do tl^us rejoice, and that I have the means calling on so many just and merciful men to rejoice ong with me. 386 ADVICE TO A FATHER. 302. Kow, then, the book-learning iras forced npoa us. I had a fmrm in hand. It was neoessaiy that I should be constantly informed of what uras doing. I gave vH the orders, whether as to purchases, saln^ ploughing, sowing, breeding ; in diort, with regard to everything, and ike things were endless in number and variety, and always full of interest. My eldest Km and daughter could now write well and &st. One or the other of them was always at Botley; and I had with me (having hired the best part of the keeper's house) one or two, besides either this brother or sister; the mother coming up to town about once in two m thi'ee months, leaving the house and children in the care of her sister. We had a hamfeb, with a lock and two keys, Which came up once a- week, or oftener, bringing me fruit and all sorts of country fare, for tb carriage of which, cost free, I was indebted to as good a man as ever Qod created, the late Mb. Geoegi BooERS, of Southampton, who, in the prime of life, died deeply lamented by thousands, but by none more deeply than by me and my &,mily, who have to thaak him, and the whole of his excellent family, for benefits and marks of kindness without number. 303. This HAMPER, which was always, st both oak of the Une, looked for with the most lively feelii^ became our eohocl. It brought me a jownnJal of labomf proceedings, and ocemrenceSf written on paper of shape and size unifonn, and so contrived, as to margins, as to admit of binding. The jounml used, when my son mi the writer, to be interspersed with dikwings of our dogs, colts, or anything that he wanted me to have a OHILDIIIiK's WSSTEBB, 287 oorreot idea oL The liamper brouglit me plants, bulbs, aad tbe hko, that I might tee the siie of them; and always eveiy one aent hk or her moet heaut^ul JUmen; the easiest vic^ets, and primroses, and cowslips, and Hoe-beUs; the earliest twigs of trees; and, in short, everything that ihej thought calculated to defight me. The moment the hamper arrived, I, casting aside every- thing els^ set to workix) answer mery queriiont to give new directicms, and to add anything Ukely to give pleasure at Botley. Every hamper brought one **leUer,** as they called it, if not more, from every child ; and to fvery letter I wrote an annawerf sealed up and sent to the party, being sure that that was the way to produce other and better letters; for, though thej could not read what I wrote, and though their own consisted at fint of mere Kratches, and afterwards, for awhile, of a few words written down for them to imitate, I always thanked them for their "preMy Utter ;^^ and never ez- presaed any wish to see them vnite letter ; but took care to write in a very neat and plain hand vrufedf, and to de up my letter in a very neat manner. 304. Thus, while the Ssrodous tigers thought I waa doomed to incessant mortification, and to rage that mnst extinguish my mental powers, I found in my children, and in their spotless and courageous and most a&ctionate mother, defights to which the callous hearts of those tigers were strangers. " Heaven first taught liters for some wretch's aid." How often did this line of Pope occur to me wiien I (^ned tl» little epud- diing "letters'^ &om Botley I This c«irrespondenoe occupied a good part 4if my time : I had all the chil* 238 ADVICE TO ▲ FATHER. dren with me, turn and turn about; and, in order to give the boys exercise, and to give the two eldest aa 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, Hoi- bom. All this was a great relaxation to my mind; and, when I had to return to my literary labours, I returned fresh and cheerful, full of vigour, and fuJQ, of hopet of finally seeing my unjust and merciless fr lat my feet, and that, too, without caiirg a straw on whom their fall might bring calamity, so that my own family were safe; because, say what any one might, the cm- munUy, taken cu a whole, had suffered this thing to he 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 amase- ment with book-learning, made me, almost to my own surprise, find, at the end of two years, that I had a parcel of acholara growing up about me; and, long before the end of the time, I had dictcUed many Eegiatera to my two eldest children. Then, there vas copying out of books, which taught spelling con'ecUy. The calculations about the farming affairs forced aritli' metio upon us : the tiM, the necessiti/f of the thing, led to the study. By-and-by, we had to look into the hvn, to know what to do about the highways, about the game, about the poor, and all rural and p^rochid affairs. I was, indeed, by the filings of government, defeated in my fondly-cherished project of making my sons farmers on their own land, and keeping them from BOOKS. 289 all temptation to seek vicious and enervating enjoy- ments; but those fangs, merciless as they had been, had not been 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 manly pleasures : the fangs had made me and them penniless; but, they had not been able to take from us onr 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 bookSf with the ex- ception of the PoetSt I never bought, in my whole life, aDy one that I did not V)ai}Z for some purpose of tdilitt/y and of practical viilUy too. I have two or three times had the whole collection snatched away from me; and have begun again to get them together us they were granted. Go and kick an Ant's nest about, and you will see the little laborious, courageous creatures tn- ^antly set to work to get it together again; 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 bo made of to oppose, with success, those who, by what- ever means, get possession of great and mischievous iwwer. 307. Now, I am aware, that that which / didf cannot be done by every one of hundreds of thousands of fathers, each of whom loves his children with all hin soul: I am aware that the attorney, the surgeon, the physician, the trader, and even the farmer, cannot, generally speaking, do what I did, and that they must, T '\^' 590 ADVICE TO A FATHER. in most cases, send their sotis to school, if it be neces- aary for them to have book-learning. But while I say this, I know, that there are mtmy things, which I did^ which many fathers might doi, and which, neverthelea, tJiey do not do. It is in the power of every father to live at home wUh hia famUyf when not compelled by business, or by public duty, to be absent : it is in hig power to set an example of industry and sobriety and fi*ugality, and to prevent a taste for gaming, dissipa. tion, extravagance, from getting root in the minds of j his children : it is in his power to continue to make hig children hearers, when he is reproving servants fw idleness, or commending them for industry aiid care: it is in his power to keep all dissolute and idly-talking companions 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 ^ \ many other things, and something in the way of book- Wming too, however busy his life may be. It is com- pletely within his power to teach them early rising ai early going to bed; and, if many a man, who says that I he has not time to teach his children, were to sit down, in sincerity, with a pen and a bit of paper, and put down all the minutes, which he, in every twenty-four hours, wastes over the bottie, or over cheese and ora/nges and radsvns and biscuits, afier he has dined; how manyht lounges away, either at the coffee-house or at homc^ over the useless part of newspapers; how many he spendi in waiting for the coming and the managing of th(| tea-table ; how many he passes by candle-light, wearidl of hit extttence, when he might be in bed; how maiiyiii| author's opinion of fubuc schv 3. 291 passes in the momiiig 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 personal amusementf and without the smallest chance of ac- qairing from them any useful 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 frightened at the result; would send for his boys from school; and if greater book-learning than he possessed were neces- sary, he would choose for the purpose some man of ability, and see the teaching carried on under his own roof, with safety as to morals, and with' the best chance 08 to health. 308. If after all, however, a sdiool must be resorted to, let it, if in your power, be as little populous as pos* sible. As "evil communications corrupt good manners/*' BO the more numerous the assemblage, and the more extensive the communication, the greater the chance of corruption. JaiU, barrackSy factories^ do not corrupt by their walls, but by their condensed numbers. Popu- lous cities corrupt frt)m the same cause ; and it is, because it must be, the same with regard to schools, out of which children come not what they were vrhssn. they went in. The master is, in some sort, their enemy; he is their overlooker; he is a spy upon them; his author- ity is maintained by his absolute power of punishment ; the parent commits them to tftat power; to be taught is t j be held in restraint; and, as the sparks fly upwards, the teaching and the restraint will not be divided in Hi ♦ 292 ADVICE TO A FATBEH. the estimation of the boy. Besides all this, there u the gi-eat disadvantage of tardinui in arriving at yean 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 htt, only by hearing men talk and seeing men act, that they learn to talk and act like men; and, therefore, to con- fine them to the society of boys, is to retard tbeir 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 ifho liai always been at school! But, if, as I said before, a school there must be, let the congregation be as stuall as possible; and, do not expect too much from the master; for, if it be irksome to you to teaoh 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 motim | would want no argument to make them shudder at the | thought of committing the care of their daughtentoj other hands than their own. If fortune have so favoured them as to make them rationally desironi xhat their daughters should have more of what an called accomplishments than they t^iemtelvis have, it hai also favoured them with the means of having teachen under their own eye. If it have not favoured them » highly as this (and it seldom has in the middle rank of I life), what duty so sacred as tliat imposed on a motberl tobe t love 0] neglect the car is impc she to £ who be nobody she can before, i circle; i within ^ of intri^ shetole shut the of whon bastards, colour oj forward daetoa still call 310. children,! see how It is evic study thl pursue ; there are) tued by I hook-lea^ 4 »* OIBLS SCHOOLS. 203 to be the teacher of her daughters ! And is she, from love of ease or of pleasure or of anything else, to neglect this duty; is she to commit her daughters to the care of persons, v/ith whose manners and morals it is impossible 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 corrupted 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 frequ&nUy the case, are proclaimed hoitards, by the undeniable testimony given by the cofour of their aldn ; is she to do all this, and still put forward pretensions to the authority and the affection due to a motfierl And, are you to permit all this, and still call yourself a/cUher/ 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 in other cases. But, there are certain elementary studies ; certain books to be used by all persons, who are destined to acquire any book-learning at all Then there are departments or 294 ADVICE TO A FATHEB. branches of knowledge, that every man in the middle rank of life, ought, if he can, to acquire, they being, in some sort, necessary to his reputation as a wdl-informed man, a character to which the farmer and the shop- keeper ought to aspire as well as the lawyer and the surgeon. Let me now, then, offer my advice as to the c&m'se of reading, and the manner of reading, for a bojri arrived at hda/ourteenth year, that being, in my opinion, early enough for him to begin. 311. And, first of all, whether as to boys or girls, I deprecate romances of every description. It is impos>> ffilble 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 highlu' seasoned matter, they make matters of real life insipid; •«very girl, addicted to them, sighs to be a Sophu Western, aiid 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 wildp'>ss? What can be more pernicious than the teachings 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 paoraon too), the other a legitimate child; the former wild, disobedient, and squandering; the latter steady, sober, obedient, and frugal; the former everything that is frank and generous in his nature, the latter a gi'eedy hypocrite; the former rewarded with the most beauti* ful and virtuous of women and a double estate, the latter punished by being made an outcast. How is it possible for young people to i-ead such a book, and to look upon orderliness, sobriety, obedience, and frugal- AVOID BEADma ROMANCES. 295 ity, as mrtucftf And this is the tenor of ahnost every lomance, 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 appeannce, a moral man, the other a hair-brained sqnandere.', laughing at the morality of his brother;. the for^xor 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 generous sentiment, and Hea'^en itself seems to interfere to give him for- tune and fame. In short, the direct tendency of the faa* greater part of these books, is, to cause young people trj despise all those virtues, without the practice of which they must be a curse to their parents, a bnrdeD to the community, and 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 rob- bers, is the suitable beginning of a glorious reign ? 312. There is, too, another most abominable piinciple that runs through them all, namely, that there is in hufh birth something of superior ncUurey instinctive 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 parasites who wrote those plays? Here are youths, brought up by diepherds, never told of their origin, believing them- selves the sons of these humble parents, but discover^ % -m-- 296 ADVICE TO A FATHEIL ing, when grown up, the liighest notions of valour and honour, and thirsting for military renown, even while tending their reputed fathers* 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 quietly submit to despotic sway. And the infamous authors are giiilty of tho cheat, because they are, in one shape or ianother, p&id by oppressors out of means squeezed from the people. A trite pictnro would give us just the reverse; would show us that " high birth " is the enemy of virtue, of valour, and of talent; would show us, that with all their incalculable advantages, royal and noble families have, only by mere accident, produced a great man; that, in general, they have been amongst the mo^ effeminate, unprincipled, cowardly, stupid, and, at the very least, amongst the most useless persons, considered as individuals, and not in connection with the prerogatives and powers be> stowed 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 romances. 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 always find, if you examine the matter to the bottom. The world owes a very large part of its suf* ferings to tyrants ; but what tyrant was there amongst the ancients, whom the poets did not place amongH the gods? Can you open an English poet, without, in some part or other of his works, finding the grossest EVIL TENDENOT OF IVDZ80BX1IINATE READING. 297 flatteries of royal and noble persons 1 How are young people not to think that the praises bestowed on these persons are just 1 Dbtden, Farvell, Gay, Tbomfson, 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 mischief to a nation, we have two most striking instances in the cases of Db. Johnson and BuBKE. The former, at a time when it was a question whether war should be made on America to compel her to submit to hd taxed by the English i>arliament> wrote a pamphlet, entitled, " Taxation 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 as taxes. Johnson, however, got a pennon fir hia lift, and Burke a pension for his life and for tlvree Uvea q/ler 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 1 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 wiMt the writer of the book was, or is. • 298 ABYICE TO A FATHEB. 314. If a boy be intended for anj* particular calling, he ought, of course, to be induced to read books relat* ing to that calling, if such books there be ; and, there- fore, 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 know- ledge will be a source of pleasure; and because the want of it must, very frequently, give them pain, by making them appear inferior, in point of mind, to many who are, in&ct, their inferiors in that respect. These things are grammar, arithmetic, history, accompanied with geography. Without these, a man, in the middle^rank of life, however able he may be in his calling, makes but an awkward figure. Without grammo/r 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 I known, full of natural talent, eloquent by nature, replete with everything calculated to give them weight in society; and yet having little or no weighty merely because unable to put correctly upon paper that which they have in their minds ! For me not to say, that I deem my " English Grammes " the best book for teach- ing this science would be affectation, and neglect of duty besides; because I know that it is the best; be- cause I wrote it for the purpose; and because, hundreds and hundreds of men and women have told me, some verbally, and some by btter, that, though (many of them) at grammar-schools for years, they really never knew anything of grammar until they studied my book. I, who know well all the difficulties that I ABrniHETIC—HISTOBT. 299 experienced when I read books upon this subjoot, can easily believe this, and especially -when I think of the numerous instances in which I have seen univeraity- 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 enemy of acquiring knowledge. 315. With regai-d 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 everything calculated to lead the mind into a koowledge of the matter, so void of principles, and so evidently tending to puzzle and disgust the learner, by their sent^itious, and crabbed, and quaint, and almost hieroglvphical definitions, that I, at one time, had the intention of writing a little work on the subject myself. It was put off, from one cause or another j but a little work on the subject has been, partly at my suggestion, written and published by Mb. Thomas Smith of Liverpool, and is sold by Messrs. Longman & Ca, in London. The author has great ability, and a perfect knowledge 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 during the study of gi-ammar, which is an undertaking require 'MiO ADVICE TO A FATHER. ing patience and time. Of all history, that of our own country is of the most importance ; because, for 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 ouglU to be. The difference between history and romance is this; that that which is narrated in the latter leaves in the mind nothing which it can apply to present or future cii'cnm- stances and events ; while thei former, when it is what it ought to be, leaves the mind stored with arguments for experience, applicable, at all times, to the actual affairs of life. The history of a country ought to shov the origin and progress of its institutions, political, civil, and ecclesiastical; it ought to show the effects of those institutions upon the state of the people; it ought to delineate the measures of the government at the several 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 indubitable 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 1 They are very little better than romances. Their contents are generally confined to narrations relating to battles, negotiations, 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 circumstances of the pi'esent day. EBBOBS IN HISTOItlCAL WORKS. 301 318. Besides this, there is the falsehood; and the falsehoods contained in these histories where shall we find anything to surpass ? Let ns take one instance. They all tell us that William the Conqueror 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, tbat all the churches are still standing that were there when William landed, and the whole story is a sheer falsehood from the \>eginning to the end. 319. But, this is a mere specimen of these romances; and that, too, with regard to a matter comparatively unimportant to us. The important falsehoods are, those which misguide us by statement or by inference, 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 always the object of those who have power in their hands, to per- suade the people that they are better off 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 anything that has hitherto been called a history of England ! I re- member, that, about a dozen 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 l^hat 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, 302 ADVICE TO A FATHER. 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 f " 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 Refor- "mation/* for I may truly call that famous, which has been translated and published in all the modem languages. 320. But, it is reserv^ed for me to write a complete histoiy of the country from the earliest times ^o 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 foundadon of an order of knighthood, bearing the motto of " Honi soU qui mal 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 labourers 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 children; and the other historians have given us larger romances to amuse lazy persons who are grown np. To destroy the effects of bhese, and to make the people know what their country has been, will be my object; and this, I trust, I shall ^* GEOGKAFHT. 303 5ds of cases, lad not the le Duke of taxing our history. I itters of this sstant Be/or- moiis, which the modern be a complete times ^o the and health, I beginning on lall endeavour do not want hont Edward lady's garter, )f an order of 8oU qui m(d y ■want to know ire a labourer's , and how the at great king. m ahistoi7of smith] It is md the other to amuse lazy the effects of ; their country trust, I shall effect "We are, it is said, to have a History of England from Sib James Mackintosh ; a History of Scotland from Sir Walter Scott; and a History of Ireland from Tommy Moore, the luscious poet. A Scotch lawyer, who is a pensioner, and a member for Knares- horough, which is well known to the Duke of Devon- shire, who has the great tithes of twenty parishes in Ireland, will, doubtless, write a most impartial History of Englandy and particularly as far as relates to boroughs and tithes. A Scotch romance- writer, who, under the name of Malagrowther, wrote a pamphlet 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 placeman, and a prot6g6 of an English peer that has immense parcels of Irish confiscated estates, what a beautiful history shall we not then have of unfortunate Irdandl Oh, no ) We are not going to be content with stuff such as these men will bring out. Hume and Smollet and Robertson have cheated us long enough. We are not in a humour to be cheated any longer. 321. Geography is taught at schools, if we believe 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 curiosity; 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, the products, or of the anything else of Yorkshire or Dovoushira The #' 304 ADVICE TO A FATBEIL first thing in Geography is to know that of the country in which we live, especially that in which we were bom : I have now seen almost every hill and valley in it with my own eyes; nearly every city and eveiy town, and no small part of the whole of the villages. I am therefore qualified to give an account of the country; and that account, under the title of "Geo- "graphical Dictionary of England and Wales," I am now having printed as a companion to my history. 322. When a young man well understands the geo- graphy of his own country; when he has referred to maps on this smaller scale ; when, in short, he knows all 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 United 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 anything that is passing in the moon ? 323. When people have nothing useful to do, tlieyi may indulge their curiosity; but, merely to read booktA 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 I readers. A book is an admirable excuse for sitting I still ; and a man who lias constantly a newspaper, aI magazine, a review, or some book or other in his hand,! gets, at last, his head stuffed with such a jumble, thati t^,, '■X BOOK-BEADIKO. 80^ ihe country h we were d valley in and every he villages, lunt of the e of "Geo- alea^ I am history, ids the geo- I referred to t, he kno\rs to apply ^i« ook at other le powers or own country. II acquainted tes, Portugal, what need we the condition we would k B moon 1 il to do, they to fMd books, .nd is not the are none more ur everlasting use for sittin? newspaper, «| er in his hand, a jumble, tbatj be knows not what to think about anything. 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, con- ceited, thinks himself wiser than other men, in propor- tion 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 useful purpose. 324. Books of travels, of biography, natural history, find particularly such as relate to agriculture and horti- culture, are all proper, when 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 l^orhis reading. 325. And, with regard to young women, everlasting I book-reading is absolutely a vice. When they once into the habit, they neglect all other matters, and, jiu some cases, even their very dress. Attending to tho affaira of the house : to the washing, the baking, Itiie brewing, the preservation and cooking of victuals, [the management of the poultry and the garden ; these ire their proper occupations. It is said (with what ith I know not) of tho present Queen (wife of William [V.), that she was an active, excellent manager of her U I 306 ADVICE TO ▲ FITBEB. house. Impossible to bestow on her greater ptuue; 9sd I trust, that her example will have its due effect on tiie 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 notuma of ae(/'-4mportano6 a/re toa 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 tublimaUn^ 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 affrcyni. Every merchant, every master-manufiioturer, every dealer, if at all rich, is an Eaqiwref squires* sons must be gentlemen, and squires' wives and daughters ladies. If this were aU; if it were merely a ridiculous mis- application 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 tradesman or a working fwriMir, And yet the world is too small to hold so many gentlemen and ladies. How many thousands of young men have, at this moment, cause to lament that they are not car- penters, 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 there- fore honourable, calling 1 RouBSCAU observes, that men are happy, first, in proportion to their vii'tue, and next, in proportion to their independence} and* that, of all mankind, the artizan, or crs^tsman, is the most independent ; because ho carries about, in hia cm THE PRIVILEGE OF EEDSQ INDEPENDENT. 307 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 dentist, there are a hundred " thousand that want those of the people who supply "the matter for the teeth to work on; and for on& " 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 pur- suit, be it what it may, which does not require a con- sidemble degree of bodiit/ labour, must, from the nature of things, be, more or less, a dependent; and this is, indeed, the pnce which he pays for his exemption from. that bodily labour. He ma?/ 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 French, and the like, are very agreeable qualifications; but why should they all be musicians, and painters, and linguists ? , Why all of them ? Who, then, is there left to take care of the houses of farmers and tiuders 1 But there is something in these 308 ADVICE TO A FATHER. "accomplishments" worse than this; namely, that they think themselves too high for farmera and traders: and this, in fact, they are; much too high; and, there- fore, 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, how- ever, 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 to is, thorough skill and care in the economy of a house. We are all apt to set too high a value on what we ourselves have don^; and I may do this; but I do firmly believe, that to cure any young woman of this fatal sublimation, she has only patiently to read my "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 Worcestershire told me, that until she read " Cottage Economy " sh . had Esver baked in the house, and had seldom 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 baking bread,** was the part that roused her to the undertaking; and, indeed, if the facts and arguments there made use of, failed to stir her up to action, she must have been stone dead to the power of words. 328. After the age that we have now been suppos- ing, boys and girls become men and women ; and, there now only remains for iliG/ather to act towards them with ACT IMPARTIALLY TO YOUR CHILDREN. 30^ impartiality' If they be numerous, or, indeed, if they be only two in number, to expect perfect 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 applause of the parents ; in per- sonal and mental endowments they become rivals; and, when pecuniary interests come to be well understood and to have their weight, here is a rivalahip, to pre- vent 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; property amongst them, and then, all at once, becom- ing hostile to each other, that I have often thought. that pi-oiDerty, coming in such a way, was a curse, and. tliat 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 rcgai-d 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 pecuniary circum- stances, 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 310 ADVICB TO ▲ VATSOM. •ong^t to guard his heart; and the kinder that heart is, the more neoessarj such gaardmitBhip. I meaia the •fatal error of heaping upon one child, to the prejndioe ^ the rest; or, upon a part of them. This partiality aometimes arises fiom mere caprice; acnnetimea iam the dicumstance of the &.vouzite bemg more &yoared hj nature than the rest; sometimes firom th,e neaKi resemblance to himself, that the father sees in the iiYOurite; and, sometimes, from tiie hope of prevent- ing the favoured party from doing that which would disgrace the parent. All these motives are highly ^ensurald^ but the last is the most general, and^by ht tKe most mischievous in its effect. How many Others •have been ruined, how many mothers and ftimilieg brought to beggary, how many industrious and virtu- •OOB groups have been pulled down frcnn competence to pimury, from iike desire to prevent one from bringing shame on the parent ! Bo that, contrary to every prin- dple of justice, the bad is rewarded for ^ae badnen; and the good punished for the goodness. Natural affection, remembrance of infantine endearments, re- luctance to abandon long-cherished hopes, compassion I 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 ruin, and that of the rest of your family, are decreed. Suffering is the natund and just punidmient of idleness, drunkenness, squandering, and an indulgence in the Si^ty of prostitutes ; and, never did the world behold an instance of an offender, in this way, reclaimed but cBiLOtam tx>VB todb ifMMaxn, rni 1] ty iihe mfliotioii of this piuiitbment : pArtionkrly if 1^ eodety of proititiitei made part of the offence; far, bere is Bomething that takes *he htartfrom you. No- body ever yet saw, and nobody ever "vdll aee, a young man linked to a proatitate, and retain, at the same time, any, even the smallest, degree of affection for parents or brethren. Yon may supplicate, you may implore, yon may leave yourself peniiileSB, and your virtuous duMren .wiiJiout bread; the invisible cormorant will stiU call &x more; and, as we saw, only the other day, a wretdi was convicted of having, at the instigation of his prostitute, iealen hit ag«d mother^ to get from her the small remains of the means necessary to provide lier with food. In Hebov's collection of God's judgments on wicked acts, it is related of an uzmatural son, who led his aged father upon orts and offal, lodged him in a filthy and craay garret, and clothed him in sackcloth, while he and his wife and children lived in luxury; ihat, having bought sackcloth enough for two dresses for his Either, his children took away the part not made up, and hid it, and, tlmt, upon asking them what they could do this for, they told him that they meant to keep it for hm, when he should become old and walk with a stick ! This, the author relates, pierced his heart; and, indeed, if this fkiled, 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 lihame ftt>m the woiid ; and, if 312 ADVICE TO ▲ FATHEB. you have acted well your part, no part of that shame falls on you, unless you have adminiatered to ifte cattu 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 : you must lament this : but, it is not to how you down ; and, above all things, it is weak, and even criminally selfish, 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 demeanour, 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, " Hon- our thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land,'* is a precept, a disregard of which never yet failed, either first or last, to bring its punishment. And, what can bo more just than that signal punishment should follow such a ciime; 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 1 Are those to be pleaded in apology for giving pain to the father who has toiled half a lif(|-tlme in order to feed and clothe you, and to (( <( CHILDREN LOVE TOUB PARENTS. 813 the mother whose breast has been to you the fountain of life 1 Qoj 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 ! I^JW * 314 LETTER VL ADVICE TO A citizen; 331. Having now given my Advice to the Youth, 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, parent, husband or father. The word citizen is not, in its application, confined to the mere inhabitants of cities: it means, a memher of a dvil society, or community; 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 0/ civil communities. 332. Time was when the inhabitants of this island, for instance, laid claim to all things in it, without the words otvner or property being known. God had given to all the people all the land and all the trees, and everything else, just as he has given the burrows 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 op Nature; that is to say, the law of self-preservation and self-enjoyment, - LAB0X7B THE BASIS OF PROPERTY. 315 without any restraint imposed by a regaixl for the good of our neighbours. 333. In process of time, no matter from what cause, men made amongst themselves a compact, or an agree- ment, to divide the land and its products in such a manner that each should have a share to his own exclusive use, and that each man should be protected in the exclusive ^oyment of his share by the tmited power of the rest; and, in order to insure the due and certain application of this unitbd power, the whole of the people agreed to be bound by regulations, called Laws. Thus arose civil society; ^taxs aroae propertf/ ; thus arose the words miTie and thine. One man be- came possessed of more good things than another, because he was more industrious, more skiHul, more careful, or more frugal : so that labour, of one sort or another, was the basis of aU property. 334. In what manner civil societies proceeded in providing for the making of laws and for the ei. orcing of them; the various ways in which they took measures to jHTotect 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 truths are written on the heart of man : that all men are, by nature, equal; that civil society can never have arisen from any motive other than that of the ben^t of the whole; that, when- ever civil society makes the greater part of the people worse o/f than- they were under the Law of Nature, the civil compact is, in conscience, dissolved, and all the rights of nature return; that, in civil society, the rights 316 ADVICE TO A CrriZEJT. and the dtUies go hand in hand, and that, when tlio 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 uuderatand what our riglUs 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 this is taught in our political schools, where we are told that our Jlrst diUy is to obey the laws; and it is not many years ago, that HoRSLEY, Bishop of Rochester, told us, that the •people had notfiing to do with the laws but to obey i[;hem. The truth is, however, that the citizen's ^rs< duty is to maintain his rights, as it is the purchaser's first duty to receive the thing for which he has contracted. 336. Our rights in society are numerous; the right of enjoying life and property; the right of exerting our physical and mental powers in an innocent manner; but, the great right of all, and without which there is, in fact, no right, is, the right of tak- ing a part in the making of the laws by which toe are governed. This right is founded in that Law of Nature spoken of above; it springs out of the very principle of civil society; for what compa<:t, what agreement, what common asaentf can possibly be imagined by which men would give up all the rights of nature, all the free enjoyment of their bodies and their minds, in order to subject themselves to rules and laws, in the making of which they should have nothing to say, and which should be enfoix;ed upon them without their assent) The great right, therefore, of every man, the right of GOVERNMENT BY THE MAJORITY. 317 riglits, is the right of having a share in the making of the laws, to which the good of the whole makes it bis 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 differ- ent times. Generally it has been, and in great com> munities it must be, by the choosing of a few to speak and act in behalf of the many: and, as there will hardly ever be perfect unanimity amongst men assembled for any purpose whatever, where fact and argument are to decide the question, the decision is left to the majorUr/, the compact being that the decision of the majoiity shall be that of the whole. Minora ace excluded from this right, because the law considers them as infants, because it makes the parent 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 inddihle crimM are excluded, because they have forfeited their right by violating the laws, to which their ..assent has been given. Insane l)er8on8 ai*e excluded, because they are dead in the eye of the law, l)erau8e the law demands no duty at their hands, because they cannot violate the law, because the law cannot affect them ; and, therefore, they ought to havo no hand in making it. 33d But, with these exceptions, where is the ground 318 ADVICE TO ▲ CITIZEN. whereon to maintain that any man ought to be de- prived 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 itself 9 Am I told, that property ought to confer this right? Property sprang from labour, and not labour from property; so that if there were to be a distinction here, it ought to give the preference to labour. All men are equal by nature; nobody denies that they all ought to be eqvjol in tlie eye qftlie law; but, how are they to be thus equal if the law begin by suffering sofne to enjoy this right and refusing the enjoyment to otiiers ? It is the ^uty of every man to defend his country against an enemy, a duty imposed 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 society. Yet, how are you to maintain that this is the duty of every man, 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 sharing in the making of the laws ) 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 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 loanmonger: yet, notwithstanding this equality, he is to risk all, and, if he escape, he is still to be denied an equality of rightb! If, in such a state of things, the artizan, or labourer, when called out to fight in defence of his country, were ALL MEN EQUAL IN THE EYE OV THE LAW. 319 to answer : " Why should I idsk my life t I have no " possession but my labour; no enemy 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; you 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 ia nothing worth; on what ground, then, " do you caU on me to risk my life )" If, in such a case, such questions were put, the answer is very difficult to be imagined. .339. In cases of civil commotion, the matter comes jtill more home to us. On what ground is the rich man to call the artizan from his shop, or the labourer from the field, to join the sheriff's poss4 or the militia, if he refuse to the labourer and artizan the right of sharing in the making of the laws? Why are tbey to risk their lives here ? To vphold the laws, and to pro- tect property. What ! laws, in the making of, or assenting to, which they have been allowed to have no share) Property, of which they are said to possess none) What! compel men to come forth and risk their lives for the protection of property; and then, in the same breath, tell them, that they are not allowed to share in the making of the laws, because, and ONLY BECAUSE, they have no property! Not be- cause 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 no prop^.^'iy: uud yet, at the same time, compel them r ' 320 ADVICE TO ▲ CITIZIEX. to come fortli and risk tJieir lives for the protection of property! 340. But, the paupebs? Ought tftey to nhare in the making of the laws? And why not? What is a pauper; what is one of the men to whom thiit degrad- ing appellation is applied? A very poor man; a man who is, from some cause or other, unable to supply himself with food and raiment without aid from the parish-rates. And, is that circumstance alone to de- prive him of his right, a right of which ho stands more in need than any other man? Perhaps he has, for many years of his life, contributed directly to \tbo8e rates ; and ten thousand to one he has, by his labour, contributed to them indirectly. Tht> aid which, under such circumstances, ho receives, m hU right ; he receives it not as an alma: he is no mendicant; he begs not; he comes to receive that which the laws qf the country awards him in liou of the larger portion assigned him by the Law of Nature. Pray mark that, and let it be deeply engraven on your memory. The audacious and merciless Malthus (a parson of the church establiah- nient) recommended, some years ago, the passing of a law to^tt< an end to the giving of pariah relief, though ho recommended no law to put an end to tlie enormous taxes paid by poor people. In his book ho said, that the poor should be left to the Law of Nature, which, in case of their having nothing to buy food with, doomed them to starve. They would ask nothing Inrtter than to be left to the Law of Nature; that law which knows nothing about buying food or anything else; that law which bids the hungry and the nuked tuice food and POVERTY NO CBIME. 321 raiment wherever they find it best and nearest at hand; that law which awards all possessions to the ttrongest; that law the operations of which would clear 9at the London meat-markets and the drapers* and jewellers' shops in about half-an-hour : to this law the parson wished the Parliament 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 bo starved." 341. Trusting that it is unnecessary for me to ex- press a hope, that barbarous thoughts like those of Malthus and his tribe will never bo entertained by any young man who has read the previous Numbers of this work, let me return to my r«rjf, verj/ poor ma/i, 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 onlj/ because, he has been, in a pecuniary way, singularly unfortunate? The Scripture says, ** Despise not the poor, because he is "poor;" that is to say, despise him not on account of hie povertif. Why, then, deprive him of his right; why put him out of the pale of the law, on account of his poverty? There are some men, to be sure, who are re- duced 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 with* out any folly, be exposed ; and, is there a man on earth 80 cruelly unju^ as to wish to add to the sufferings of Buch persons by stripping them of their political rights? How many thousands of industrious and virtuous men 322 ADVICE TO A aTIZEN. 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 oi 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 them of another right? To say no more of the injustice and the cruelty, is there reason, is there common sense in this? What! if a farmer or a tradesman be, by flood or by flre, so totally ruined as to be compelled, surrounded by his family, to resort to the parish-book, would you break the last heart-string of I such a man by making him feel the degrading loss of | his political rights? 342. Here, young man of sense and of spirit ; here is | the point on which you are to take your stand. There are always men enough to plead the cause of the rich; enough and enough to echo the woes of the fallen great ; but, be it your part to show compassion for those who labour, and to maintain their rights. Poverty is not a crime, and though it sometimes arises from faults, it is not, even in that 'case, to be visited by punishment beyond that Vhich it brings with itself. Remember, that poverty is decreed by the veiy nature of man. THE POOR MUST BE PROVIDED FOR. 323 The Scripture says, that " the poor shall nev(5r 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 existence of mankind, that a very large portion of every people should live by manual labour; and, as sucK' labour is pain, more or less, and as no living creature 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 daili/ wants. Experieno 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 general stock, the means to satisfy this want. 343. Nor is the deepest poverty without its useful effects in society. To the practice of the virtues of abstinence, sobriety, care, frugality, industry, and even honesty and amiable manners and pTide, as far as our power "v^U go, for the competence, the health, and the good character of our children; but, is this dutj superior to that of which I am now speaking? What is competence, what is health, if the possessor be a slamf and hold his possessions at the will of an- other, or others; as he must do if destitute of the right to a share in the making of the laws? What is com- petence, 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 assent? And, is to character y as to fair famey when the white slave puts forward pretensions to those, let him no longer affect to commiserate 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, Iwui are we to go to work in the performance of it, and what are our rtkOKM ? With regard to these, so various are the circumstances, so endless the differences 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 memia that are surest and siciftest are the best. In every such case, however, the great and predominant desire ought to be not to em- .ploy any means beyond those of reason and persuasion, FORTITUDE AND VATIESCE. 331 as long as the employment of these afford a ground for rational expectation of success. Men are, in such a case, labouring, not for the present day only, but for ages to come ; and therefore they should not slacken in their exertions, because the grave may close upon them before the day of final triumph arrive. Amongst the vii'tues of the good Citizen are those of fortitude and patience; and, when ho has to carry on his struggle against corruptions deep and widely-rooted, he is not to 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 fellow-sufferers of cowardice, because they do not do that which they themselves dare not think of doing. Such conduct argues cJiagrin and disappointment; and these argue a selfish feeling : they argue, that there has been more of private ambition and gain at work than of public good. Such blamers, such general accusers, are always to be suspected. 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 to see his endeavours orowned with success, his children will see it? The impatient patriots are like the young men (mentioned in the beautiful fable 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 ^•' 332 ADVICE TO A CITIZEN. trations. Fourth Edition. Post Octavo. 78. 6d. 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