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THE
BY WM. A. ALCOTT.
TENTH EDITION.
BOSTON:
PERKINS AND MARVIN
1836.
TO THE READER.
WHEN I commenced this work, my object was a mere compilation. There were many excellent books for young men, already in circulation, but none which I thought unexceptionable; and some of them contained sentiments which I could not approve. I sat down, therefore, intending to make selections from the choicest parts of them all, and prepare an unexceptionable and practical manual; such an one as I would be willing to see in the hands of any youth in the community.
In the progress of my task, however, I found much less that was
wholly in accordance with my own sentiments, than I had expected.
The result was that the project of compiling, was given up; and
a work prepared, which is chiefly original. There are, it is true,
some quotations from 'Burgh's Dignity of Human Nature,' 'Cobbet's
Advice to Young Men,' 'Chesterfield's Advice,' and Hawes' Lectures;
but in general what I have derived from other works is re-written,
and much modified. On this account it was thought unnecessary
to refer to authorities in the body of the work.
The object of this book is to elevate and reform. That it may prove useful and acceptable, as a means to these ends, is the hearty wish of
THE AUTHOR
Boston, Dec. 9, 1833.
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION.
THE great purpose of the Young Man's Guide, is the formation of such character in our young men as shall render them the worthy and useful and happy members of a great republic. To this end, the author enters largely into the means of improving the mind, the manners, and the morals; -- as well as the proper management of business. Something is also said on amusements, and bad habits. On the subject of marriage he has, however, been rather more full than elsewhere. The importance of this institution to every young man, the means of rendering it what the Creator intended, together with those incidental evils which either accompany or follow -- some of them in terrible retribution -- the vices which tend to oppose His benevolent purposes, are faithfully presented, and claim the special attention of every youthful reader.
ADVERTISMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION.
THE rapid sale of a large edition of this work, and the general tribute of public praise which has been awarded to its merits, instead of closing the eyes of the Publishers or the Author against existing defects, have, on the contrary, only deepened their sense of obligation to render the present edition as perfect as possible; and no pains have been spared to accomplish this end. Several new sections have been added to the work, and some of the former have been abridged or extended.
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRD EDITION.
AN increasing demand for the Young Man's Guide, evinced by the sale of more than five thousnd copies of the work in a few months, have induced the publishers to give a third edition, with some amendments and additions by the author; who has also derived important suggestions from gentlemen of high literacy and moral standing, to whom the work had been submitted for examination.
THE PUBLISHERS.
THE young are often accused of being thought-less, rash, and unwilling to be advised.
That the former of these charges is in a great measure just, is not denied. Indeed, what else could be expected? They are thoughtless, for they are yet strangers to this world, and its cares and perplexities. They are forward, and sometimes rash; but this generally arises from that buoyancy of spirits, which health and vigor impart. True, it is to be corrected, let the cause be what it may; but we shall correct with more caution, and probably with greater success, when we understand its origin.
That youth are unwilling to be advised, as a gen-eral rule, appears
to me untrue. At least I have not found it so. When the feeling
does exist, I believe it often arises from parental mismanagement,
or from an unfortunate method of advising.
The infant seeks to grasp the burning lamp; ---- the parent endeavors
to dissuade him from it. At length he grasps it, and suffers the
consequences. Finally, however, if the parent manages him properly,
he learns to follow his advice, and obey his indications, in order
to avoid pain. Such, at least, is the natural result of rational
management. And the habit of seeking parental counsel, once formed,
is not easily eradicated. It is true that temptation and forgetfulness
may lead some of the young occasionally to grasp the lamp, even
after they are told better; but the consequent sufering generally
restores them to their reason. It is only when the parent neglects
or refuses to give advice, and for a long time manifests little
or no sympathy with his child, that the habit of filial reliance
and confidence is destroyed. In fact there are very few children
indeed, however improperly managed, who do not in early life acquire
a degree of this confiding, inquiring, counsel-seeking disposition.
Most persons, as they grow old, forget that they have ever been
young themselves. This greatly disqualifies them for social enjoyment.
It was wisely said; 'He who would pass the latter part of his
life with honor and decency, must, when he is young, consider
that he shall one day be old, and when he is old, remember that
he has once been young.' But if forgetfulness on this point disqualifies
a person for self enjoyment, how much more for that which is social?
Still more does it disqulify us for giving advice. While a lad,
I was at play, one day, with my mates, when two gentlemen observing
us, one of them said to the other; 'Do you think you ever acted
as foolishly as these boys do?' "Why yes; I suppose I did;' was
the reply. 'Well' said the other, 'I never did; ---- I know I
never did.'
Both of these persons has the name of parent, but he who could not believe he had ever acted like a child himself, is greatly destitute of the proper parental spirit. He never ---- or scarcely never ---- puts himself to the slightest inconvenience to promote, directly, the happiness of the young, even for half an hour.
He supposes every child ought to be grave, like himself. If he sees the young engaged in any of those exercises which are readily adapted to their years, he regards it as an entire loss of time, besides being foolish and unreasonable. He would have them at work, or at their studies. Whereas there is scarcely anthing that should give a parent more pleasure than to see his children, in their earliest years, enjoying that flow of spirits, which leads them forth to active, vigorous, blood-stirring sports.
Of all persons living, he who does not remember that he has once
been young, is the most completely disqualified for giving youthful
counsel. He obtrudes his advice occasionally, when the youth is
already under tempation, and borne along with the force of a vicious
current; but because he disregards it, he gives him up as heedless,
perhaps as obstinate. If advice is afterwords asked, his manners
are cold and repulsive. Or perhaps he frowns him away, telling
him he never follows his advice, and therefore it is useless to
give it. So common is ti to treat the young with a measure of
this species of roughness, that I cannot wonder the maxim has
obtained that the young, generally, 'despise counsel'. And yet,
I am fully conviced, no maxim is farther from the truth.
When we come to the very close of life, we cannot transfer, in a single moment, that knowledge of the world and of human nature which an experience of 70 years has afforded us. If, therefore, from any cause whatever, we have not already dealt it out to those around us, it is likely to be lost; ---- and lost forever. Now is it not a pity that what the young would regard as an invaluable treasure, could they come at it in such a manner, and at such sessions, as would be agreeable to them, and that, too, which the old are naturally so fond of distributing, should be buried with their bodies?
Let me counsel the young, then, to do every thing they can, consistently
with the rules of good breeding, to draw forth from theold the
treasures of which I have been speaking. Let them even make some
sacrifice of that buoyant feeling which,
at their age, is so apt to predominate. Let them conform, for
the time, in some measure, to the gravity of the aged, in order
to gain their favor, and secore their friendship and confidence.
I do not ask them wholly to forsake society, or their youthful
pastimes for this purpose, or to become grave habitually; for
this would be requireing too much. but there are moments when
old people, however disgusted they may be with the young, do so
far unbend themselves as to enter into cheerful and instructive
conversation. I can truly say that when a boy, some of my happiest
hours were spent in the society of the aged --- those too, who
were not always what they should have been. The old live in the
past, as truly as the young do in the future. Nothing more delights
them than to relate stories of 'olden time', especially when themselves
were the heroes. But they will not relate them, unless there is
somebody to hear. Let the young avail themselves of this propensity,
and make the most of it. Some may have been heroes in war; some
in travelling the country; others in hunting, fishing, agriculture
or the mechanic arts; and it may be that here and there one will
boast of his skill, and relate stories of his successin that noblest
of the arts and employments ---- the making of his fellow creatures
wise, and good, and happy.
In conversation with all these persons, you will doubtless hear
much that is uninteresting. But
where will you find any thing pure or perfect below the sun? The
richest ores contain dross. At the same time you cannot fail,
unless the fault is your own, to learn many valuable things from
them all. From war stories, you will learn history; from accounts
of travels, geography, human character, manners and customs; and
from stories of the good or ill treatment which may have been
experienced, you will learn how to secure the one, and avoid the
other. From one person you will learn one thing; from another
something else. Put these shreds together, and in time you will
form quite a number of pages in the great book of human nature.
You may thus, in a certain sense, live several lives at once.
One things more is to be remembered. The more you have, the more
you are bound to give. Common sense, as well as the Scripture,
says ' It is more blessed to give than to receive.' Remember that
as you advance in years you are bound to avoid falling in to the
very errors which, 'out of your own mouth' you have 'condemned'
in those who have gone before you; and to make yourselves as acceptable
as you can to the young, in order to secure their confidence,
and impart to them, little by little, those accumulated treasures
of experience which you have acquired in going through life, but
which must otherwise, to a very great extent, be buried with you
in your graves.
But, my young friends, there is one method besides conversation,
in which you may come at the wisdom of the aged; and that is through
the medium of books. Many old persons have written well, and you
cannot do better than to avail yourselves of their instructions.
This method has even one adantage over conversation. In the perusal
of a book, you are not so often prejudiced or disgusted by the
repulsive and perhaps chilling manner of him who wrote it, as
you might have been from his conversation and company.
I cannot but indulge the hope that you will find some valuable information and useful advice in this little book. It has cost me much labor to embody, in so small a compass, the results of my own experience on such a variety of subjects, and to arrange my thoughts in such a manner as seemed to me most likely to arrest and secure your attention. The work, however, is not wholly the result of my own experience, for I have derived many valuable thought from other writers.
An introductory chapter or preface is usually rather dry, but
if this should prove sufficiently interesting to deserve your
attention till you have read it, and the table of contents, thoroughly,
I have strong hopes that you will read the rest of the book. And
in accordance with my own principles, I believe you will try to
follow my advice; for I take it
for granted that none will purchase and read this work but such
as are willing to be advised. I repeat it, therefore ---- I go
upon the presumption that my advice will, in the main, be followed.
Not at every moment of your lives, it is true; for you will be
exposed on all sides to temptation, and, I fear, sometimes fall.
But when you come to review this chapter (for I hope I have written
nothing but what is worth a second reading) which contains directions
on that particular subject wherein you have failed, and find too,
how much you have suffered by neglecting counsel, and rashly seizing
the lamp, I am persuaded you will not soon fall again in that
particular direction.
In this view, I submit these pages to the youth of our American States. If the work should not please them, I shall be so far from attributing it to any fault or perversity of theirs, that I shall at once conclude I have not taken a wise and proper method of presenting my instructions.
THE YOUNG MAN'S GUIDE.
On the Formation of Character.
-------
SECTION I. Importance of aiming high, in the formation of character.
To those who have carefully examined the introduction and table
of contents, I am now prepared to give the following general direction;
Fix upon a high standard of character . To be thought well of, is not sufficient. The point you are
to aim at, is, the greatest possible degree of usefulness.
Some may think there is a danger of setting too high a standard
of action. I have heard teachers contend that a child will learn
to write much faster by having an inferior copy, than by imitating
one which is comparatively perfect; 'because,' say they, 'a pupil
is liable to be discouraged if you give him a perfect copy; but
if it is only a little in advance of his own, he will take courage
from the belief that he shall soon be equal to it.' I am fully
convinced, however, that this is not so. The more perfect the
copy you place before the child, provided it be written, and not
engraved, the better. For it must always be possible in the nature
of things, for the child to imitate it; and what is not absolutely
possible, every child may reasonably be expected to aspire after,
on the principle, that whatever man has done, man may do.
So in human conduct, generally; whatever is possible should be
aimed at. Did my limits permit, I might show that it is a part
of the divine economy to place before his rational creatures a
perfect standard of action, and to make it their duty to come
up to it.
He who only aimes at little, will accomplish but little. Expect
great things, and attempt great things. A neglect of this rule
produces more of the difference in the character, conduct, and
success of men, than is commonly supposed. Some start in life
without and leading object at all; some with a low one; and some
aim high: ---- and just in proportion to the elevation at which
they aim, will be their progress and success. It is an old proverb
that he who aims at the sun, will not reach it, to be sure, but
his arrow will fly higher than if he aims at an object on a level
with himself. Exactly so it is, in the formation of character,
except in one point. To reach the sun with an arrow is an impossibility,
but youth may aim high without attempting impossibilities.
Let me repeat the assurance that, as a general rule, you may be
whatever you will resolve to be. Determine that you will be useful
in the world, and you shall be. Young men seem to me utterly unconcious
of what they are capable of being and doing. Their efforts are
often few and feeble, because they are not awake to a full conviction
that any great thing or distinguished is in their power.
But whence came an Alexander, a Cæsar, a Charles XII, or a Napolean?
Or whence the better order of spirits, --- a Paul, an Alfred,
a Luther, a Howard, a Penn, a Washington? Were not these men once
like yourselves? What but self exertion, aided by the blessing
of Heaven, rendered these men so conspicuous for usefulness? Rely
upon it, ---- what these men once were, you may be. Or at the
least, you may make a nearer approach to them, than you are ready
to believe. Resolution is almost omnipotent. Those little words,
try, and begin, are sometimes great in their results. 'I can't,'
never accomplished any thing; --- 'I will try,' has achieved wonders.
This position might be proved and illustrated by innumerable facts;
but one must suffice.
A young man who had wasted his patrimony by profligancy, whilst
standing, one day, on the brow of a precipice from which he had
determined to throw himself, formed the sudden resolution to regain
what he had lost. The purpose thus formed was kept; and though
he began by shoveling a load of
coals into a cellar, for which he only received twelve and a half
cents, yet he proceeded from one step to another till he more
than recovered his lost possessions, and died worth sixty thousand
pounds sterling.
You will derive much advantage from a carful perusal of the lives
of eminent individuals, especially of those who were good as well
as great. You will derive comparatively little benefit from reading
the lives of those scourges of their race who have drenched the
earth in blood, except so far as it tends to show you what an
immense blessing they might have been to the world, had they devoted
to the work of human improvement those mighty energies which were
employed in human destruction. Could the physical and intellectual
energy of Napoleon, the order and method of Alfred, the industry,
frugality and wisdom of Franklin and Washington, and the excellence
and untiring perseverance of Paul, and Penn, and Howard, be united
in each individual of the rising generation, who can set limits
to the good, which they might, and inevitably would accomplish!
Is it too much to hope that some happier age will witness the
reality? Is it not even probable that the rising generation may
afford many such examples?
SECTION II. On Motives to action.
Not a few young men either have no fixed prin-ciples, no governing
motive at all, or they are influenced by those which are low and
unworthy. It is painful to say this, but it is too true. On such,
I would press the importance of the following considerations.
Among the motives to action which I would present, the first is
a regard to your own happiness. To this you are by no means indifferent
at present. Nay, the attainment of happiness is your primary object.
You seek it in every desire, word, and action. But you sometimes
mistake the road that leads to it, either for want of a friendly
hand to guide you, or because you refuse to be guided. Or what
is most common, you grasp at a smaller good, which is near, and
apparently certain, and in so doing cut yourselves off from the
enjoyment of a good which is often infinitely greater, though
more remote.
Let me urge, in the second place, a regard for the family to which
you belong. It is true you can never fully know, unless the bitterness
of ingratitude should teach you, the extent of the duty you owe
to your relatives; and especially to your parents. You cannot
know ---- at least till you are parents yourselves, ---- how their
hearts are bound up in yours. But if you do not in some measure
know it, till this late period, you are not fit to be parents.
In the third place, it is due to society, particularly to the
neighborhood or sphere in which you move, and to the associations
to which you may belong, that you strive to attain a very great
elevation of character. Here, too, I am well aware that it is
impossible, at your age, to perceive fully, how much you have
it in your power to contribute, if you will, to the happiness
of those around you; and here again let me refer you to the advice
and guidance of aged friends.
But, fourthly, it is due to the nation and age to which you belong,
that you fix upon a high standard of character. This work is intended
for American youth. American! did I say? This word, alone, ought
to call forth all of your energies, and if there be a slumbering
faculty within you, arouse it to action. Never, since the creation,
were the youth of any age or country so imperiously called upon
to exert themselves, as those whom I now address. Never before
were there so many important issues at stake. Never were such
immense results depending upon a generation of men, as upon that
which is now approaching the stage of action. These rising millions
are destined, according to all human probability, to form by far
the greatest nation that ever constituted an entire community
of freemen, since the world began. To form the character of these
millions involves
a greater amount of responsibility, individual and collective,
than any other work to which humanity has ever been called. And
the reasons are, it seems to me, obvious.
Now it is for you, my friends, to determine whether these weighty
responsibilities shall be fulfilled. It is for you to decide whether
this greatest of free nations shall, at the same time, be the
best. And as every nation is made up of individuals, you are each,
in reality, called upon daily, to settle this question: 'Shall
the United States, possessing the most ample means of instruction
within the reach of nearly all her citizens, the happiest government,
the healthiest of climates, the greatest abundance of the best
and most wholesome nutriment, with every other possible means
for developing all the powers of human nature, be peopled with
the most vigorous, powerful, and happy race of human beings which
the world has ever known?'
There is another motive to which I beg leave, for one moment,
to direct your attention. You are bound to fix on a high standard
of action, from the desire of obeying the will of God. He it is
who has cast your lot in a country which ---- all things considered
---- is the happiest below the sun. He it is who has given you
such a wonderful capacity for happiness, and instituted the delightful
relations of parent and child, and brother and sister, and friend
and neighbor. I might add, He it is, too, who has given you the
name American, ---- a
name which alone furnishes a passport to many civilized lands,
and like a good countenance, or a becoming dress, prepossesses
every body in your favor.
But what young man is there, I may be asked, who is not influenced
more or less, by all the motives which have been enumerated? Who
is there that does not seek his own happiness? Who does not desire
to please his parents and other relatives, his friends and neighbors?
Who does not wish to be distinguished for his attachment to country
and to liberty? Nay, who has not even some regard, in his conduct,
to the will of God?
I grant that many young men, probably the most of those into whose
hands this book will be likely to fall, are influenced, more or
less, by all these considerations. All pursue their own happiness,
no doubt. By far the majority of the young have, also, a general
respect for the good opinion of others, and the laws of the Creator.
Still, do not thousands and tens of thousands mistake, as I have
already intimated, in regard to what really promotes their own
happiness? Is there any certainty that the greatest happiness
of a creature can be secured without consulting the will of the
Creator? And do not those young persons greatly err, who suppose
that they can secure a full amount, even of earthly blessings,
without conforming, with the utmost strictness, to those rules
for conduct, which the Bible and the Book of Nature, so plainly
make known?
Too many young men expect happiness from wealth. This is their
great object of study and action, by night and by day. Not that
they suppose there is an inherent value in the wealth itself,
but only that it will secure the means of procuring the happiness
they so ardently desire. But the farther they go, in the pursuit
of wealth, for the sake of happiness, espcially if successful
in their plans and business, the more they forget their original
purpose, and seek wealth for the sake of wealth. To get rich,
in their principle motive to action.
So it is in regard to the exclusive pursuit of sensual pleasure,
or civil distinction. The farther we go, the more we lose our
original character, and the more we become devoted to the objects
of pursuit, and incapable of being roused by other motives.
The laws of God, whether we find them in the constitution of the
universe around us, or go higher and seek them in the revealed
word, are founded on a thorough knowledge of human nature, and
all its tendencies. Do you study natural science --- the laws
which govern matter, animate and inanimate? What is the lesson
which it constantly inculcates, but that it is man's highest interest
not to violate or attempt to violate the rules which Infinite
Wisdom has adopted; and taht every violation of his laws brings
punishment along with it? Do you study the laws of God, as revealed
in the Bible? And do they, too, aim to inculcate the necessity
of constant
and endless obedience to his will, at the same time that their
rejection is accompanied by the severest penalties which heaven
and earth can inflict? What, in short, is the obvious design of
the Creator, wherever and whenever any traces of his character
and purposes can be discovered? What, indeed, but to show us that
it is our most obvious duty and interest to love and obey Him?
The young man whose highest motives are to seek his own happiness,
and please his friends and neighbors, and the world around him,
does much. This sould never be denied. He merits much ---- not
in the eye of God, for of this I have nothing to say in this volume
--- but from his fellow men. And although he may have never performed
a single action from a desire to obey God, and make his fellow
men really better, as well as happier, he may still have been
exceedingly useful, compared with a large proportion of mankind.
But suppose a young man possesses a character of this stamp ---
and such there are. How is he ennobled, how is the dignity of
his nature advanced, how is he elevated from the rand of a mere
companion of creatures, --- earthly creatures, too, --- to that
of a meet companion and fit associate for the inhabitants of the
celestial world, and the Father of all; when to these traits,
so excellent and amiable in themselves, is joined the pure and
exalted desire to pursue his studies and his employments, his
pleasures and his pasttimes --- in a word, everything ---
even the most trifling concern which is worth doing, exactly as
God would wish to have it done; and make the means of so doing,
his great and daily study?
This, the, brings us to the highest of human motives to action,
the love of God. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God suprememly,
and thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself, are two great commands
which bind the human family together. When our love to God is
evinced by pure love to man, and it is our constant prayer, 'Lord
what wilt thou have me to do;' then we come under the influence
of motives which are worthy of creatures destined to immortality.
When it is our meat and drink, from a sacred regard to the Father
of our spirits, and of all things in the universe, material and
immaterial, to make every thought, word and action, do good ---
have a bearing upon the welfare of one or more, and the more the
better --- of our race, then alone do we come up to the dignity
of our nature, and, by Divine aid, place ourselves in the situation
for which the God of nature and of grace designed us.
I have thus treated, at greater length than I had at first intended,
of the importance of having an elevated aim, and of the motives
to action. One the means by which young men are to attain this
elevation, it is the purpose of this little work to dwell plainly
and fully. These means might be classed in three great divisions;
viz. physical, mental, and moral. Whatever relates
to the health, belongs to the first division; whatever to the
improvement of the mind, the second; and the formation of good
manners and virtuous habits, constitutes the third. But although
an arrangement of this sort might have been more logical, it would
probably have been less interesting to the reader. The means of
religious improvement, appropriately so called, require a volume
of themselves.
SECTION III. Industry .
Nothing is more essential to usefulness and happiness in life,
than habits of industry. 'This we commanded you,' says St. Paul,
'that if any would not work, neither should he eat.' Now this
would be the sober dictate of good sense, had the apostel never
spoken. It is just as true now as it was 2000 years ago, that
no person possessing a sound mind in a healthy body, has a right
to live in this world without labor. If he claims an existence
on any other condition, let him betake himself to some other planet.
There are many kinds of labor. Some which are no less useful than
others, are almost exclusively mental. You may make your own selection
from a very wide range of employments, all, perhaps, equally important
to society. But something you must do. Even if you happen to inherit
an ample fortune, your health and happiness demand that you should
labor. To live in idleness, even if you have
the means, is not only injurious to yourself, but a species of
fraud upon the community, and the children, --- if children you
ever have, --- who have a claim upon you for what you can earn
and do.
Let me prevail with you then, when I urge you to set out in life
fully determined to depend chiefly on yourself, for pecuniary
support; and to be in this respect, independent. In a country
where the general rule is that a person shall rise, --- if he
rise at all, --- by his own merit, such a resolution is indispensable.
It is usually idle to be looking out for support from some other
quarter. Suppose you should obtain a place of office or trust
through the friendship, favor, or affection of others; what then?
Why, you hold your post at uncertainties. It may be taken from
you at almost any hour. But if you depend on yourself alone, in
this respect, your mountain stands strong, and cannot very easily
be moved.
He who lives upon anything except his own labor, is incessantly
surrounded by rivals. He is in daily danger of being out-bidden;
his very bread depends upon caprice, and he lives in a state of
never ceasing fear. His is not, indeed, the dog's life, 'hunger
and idleness,' but it is worse; for it is 'idleness with slavery;'
the latter being just the price of the former.
Slaves, are often well fed and decently clothed; but they dare
not speak. They dare not be suspected even to think differently
from their master, despise
his acts as much as they may; --- let him be tyrant, drunkard,
fool, or all three at once, they must either be silent, or lose
his approbation. Though possessing a thousand times his knowledge,
they yeild to his assumption of superior understanding; though
knowing it is they who, in fact, do all that he is paid for doing,
it is destruction to them to seem as if they thought any portion
of the service belonged to themselves.
You smile, perhaps, and ask what all this tirade against slavery
means. But remember, there is slavery of several kinds. There
is mental slavery as well as bodily; and the former is not confined
to any particular division of the United States.
Begin, too, with a determination to labor through life. There
are many who suppose that when they have secured to themselves
a competance, they shall sit with folded arms, in an easy chair,
the rest of their days, and enjoy it. But they may be assured
that this will never do. The very fact of a person's having spent
the early and middle part of life in active usefulness, creates
a necessity, to the body and mind, of its continuance. By this
is not meant that men should labor as hard in old age, even in
proportion to their strength, as in early life. Youth requires
a great variety and amount of action, maturity not so much, and
age still less. Yet so much as age does, in fact, demand, is more
necessary than to those who are younger. Children are so tenacious
of life, that they do not appear to suffer
immediately, if exercise is neglected; though a day of reckoning
must finally come.
Hence we see the reason why those who retire from business towards
the close of life, so often become diseased, in body and mind;
and instead of enjoying life, or making those around them happy,
become a source of misery to themselves and others.
Most people have general belief in the importance of industrious
habits; and yet not a few make strange work in endeavoring to
form them. Some attempt to do it by compulsion; others by flattery.
Some think it is to be accomplished by set lessons, in spite of
example; others by example alone.
A certain father who was deeply convinced of the importance of
forming his sons to habits of industry, used to employ them whole
days in removing and replacing heaps of stones. This was well
intended, and arose from regarding industry as a high accomplishment;
but there is some danger of defeating our own purpose in this
way, and of producing disgust. Besides this, labor enough can
usually be obtained which is obviously profitable.
All persons, without exception, ought to labor more or less, every
day in the open air. Of the truth of this opinion, the public
are beginning to be sensible; and hance we hear much said, lately,
about manual labor schools. Those who, from particular circumstances,
cannot labor in the open air, should substitute in its place some
active mechanical
employment, together with suitable calisthenic or gymnastic exercises.
It is a great misfortune of the present day, that almost everyone
is, by his own estimate, raised above his real state of life.
Nearly every person you meet with is aiming at a situation in
which he shall be exempted from the drudgery of laboring with
his hands.
Now we cannot all become 'lords' and 'gentlemen', if we would.
There must be a large part of us, after all, to make and mend
clothes and houses, and carry on trade and commerce, and, is spite
of all that we can do, the far greater part of us must actually
work at something; otherwise we fall under the sentence; 'He who
will not work shall not eat.' Yet, so strong is the propensity
to be thought 'gentlemen;' so general is this desire amongst the
younth of this money making nation, that thousands upon thousands
of them are, at this moment, in a state which may end in starvation;
not so much because they are too lazy to earn their bread, as
because they are too proud!
And what are the consequences? A lazy youth becomes a burden to
those parents, whom he ought to comfort, if not support. Always
aspiring to something higher than he can reach, his life is a
life of disappointment and shame. If marriage befall him, it is
a real affliction, involving others as well as himself. His lot
is a thousand times worse than that of the common laborer. Nineteen
times
out of twenty a premature death awaits him: and, alas! how numerous
are the cases in which that death is most miserable, not to say
ignominious!
SECTION IV. On Economy.
There is a false, as well as a true economy. I have seen an individual
who, with a view to economy, was in the habit of splitting his
wafers. Sometimes a thick wafer can be split in two; but at others,
both part fall to pieces. Let the success be ever so complete,
however, all who reflect for a moment on the value of time, must
see it to be a losing process.
I know a laboring man who would hire a horse, and spend the greater
part of a day, in going six or eight miles and purchasing half
a dozen bushels of grain, at sixpence less a bushel than he must
have given near home. Thus to gain fifty cents, he subjected himself
to an expense, in time and money, of one hundred and fifty. These
are very common examples of defective economy; and of that 'with-holding'
which the Scripture says 'tends to poverty.'
Economy in time is economy of money ---- for it needs not Franklin
to tell us that time is equivalent to money. Besides, I never
knew a person who was economical of the one, who was not equally
so of the other. Economy of time will, therefore, be an important
branch of study.
But the study is rather difficult. For though every young man
of common sense knows that an hour is sixty minutes, very few
seem to know that sixty minutes makes an hour. On this account
many waste fragments of time, --- of one, two, three or five minutes
each --- without hesitation, and apparently without regret; ---
never thinking that fifteen or twenty such fragments are equal
to a full hour. 'Take care of the pence, the pounds will take
care of themselves,' is not more true, than that hours will take
care of themselves if you will only secure the minutes.* *
In order to form economical habits, several im-
* A teacher, who has been pleased to say much in behalf of this
work, and to do much to extend its circulation, in a late letter,
very modestly, but properly makes the follwing inquiry; 'Has not
Dr. Franklin's precept, time is money, made many misers? Is it
not used without sufficient qualification?
There is no good thing, nor any good advice, but what may be abused,
if used or taken without qualification. There my be misers in
regard to time, as well as money; and no one can become miserly
in the one respect without soon becoming so in the other. He who
cannot or rather will not give any portion of his time to promote
the happiness of those around him, in the various ways of doing
good, which perpetually offer, lest it should take from his means
of earning property, is as much to be pitied as he who hoards
all his dollars and cents. Still it is true that youth should
husband well their time, and avoid wasting either that or their
money.
portant points must be secured. You must have for every purpose
and thing a time, and place; and every thing must be done at the
time, and all things put in their place.
have something to do in each of them. If it be social conversation,
the moment your hour arrives, engage in it at once; if study,
engage at once in that. The very fact taht you have but a very
few minutes at your command, will create an interest in your employement
during that time.
Perhaps no persons read to better purpose than those who have
but very little leisure. Some of the very best minds have been
formed in this manner. To repeat their names would be to mention
a host of self-educated men, in this and in other countries. To
show what can be done, I will mention one fact which fell under
my own observation. A young man, about fifteen years of age, unaccustomed
to study, and with a mind wholly undisciplined, read Rollin's
Ancient History through in about three months, or a fourth of
a year; and few persons were ever more closely confined to a laborious
employment that he was during that whole time. Now to read four
such works as Rollin in a year, is by no means a metter to be
despised.
anything was out of its place, and none of his children could
find it, to blame the whole of them. This was an unreasonable
measure, but produced its intended effect. His whole family follow
his example; they have a place for everything, and they put everything
in its place.
Unless both the foregoing rules are observed, true economy does
not and cannot exist. But without economy, life is of little comparative
value to ourselves or others. This trait of character is generally
claimed, but more rarely possessed.
SECTION V. Indolence.
One of the greatest obstacles in the road to excel-lence , is
indolence. I have known young men who would reason finely on the
value of time, and the necessity of rising early and improving
every moment of it. Yet I have also known these same aspiring
young men to lie dozing, an hour or two in the morning, after
the wants of nature had been reasonable, and more than reasonably
gratified. You can no more rouse them, with all of their fine
arguments, than you can a log. There they lie, completely echained
by indolence.
I have known others continually complain of the shortness of time;
that they had no time for business, no time for study, &c. Yet
they would lavish hours in yawning at a public house, or hesitating
whether they had better go to the theatre or stay; or
whether they had better get up, or indulge in 'a little more slumber.'
Such people wear the most galling chains, and as long as they
continue to wear them there is no reasoning with them.
An indolent person is scarcely human; he is half quadruped, and
of the most stupid species, too. He may have good intentions of
discharging a duty, while that duty is at a distance; but let
it approach, let him view the time of action as near, and down
go his hands in languor. He wills, perhaps; but he unwills in
the next breath.
What is to be done with such a man, especially if he be a young
one? He is absolutely good for nothing. Business tires him; reading
fatigues him; the public service interferes with his pleasures,
or restrains his freedom. His life must be passed on a bed of
down. If his is employed, moments are as hours to him --- if he
is amused, hours are as moments. In general, his whole time eludes
him, he lets it glide unheeded, like water under a bridge. Ask
him what he has done with his morning, --- he cannot tell you;
for he has lived without reflection, and almost without knowing
whether he has lived at all.
The indolent man sleepss as long as it is possible for him to
sleep, dresses slowly, amuses himself in conversation with the
first person that calls upon him, and loiters about till dinner.
Or if he engages in any employment, however important, he leaves
it the moment an opportunity for talking occurs. At
length dinner is served up; and after lounging at the table a
long time, the evening will probably be spent as unprofitably
as the morning: and this it may be, is no unfair specimen of his
whole life. And is not such a wretch, for it is improper to call
him a man ---- good for nothing? What is he good for? How can
any rational being be willing to spend the precious life in a
manner so worthless, and so much beneath the dignity of human
nature? When he is about stepping into the grave, how can he review
the past with any degree of satisfaction? What is his history,
whether recorded here or there, --- in golden letters, or on the
plainest slab --- but, 'he was born' and 'he died!'
SECTION VI. Early Rising and Rest.
Dr. Rush mentions a patient of his who thought himself wonderfully
abstinant because he drank no spiritous or fermented liquors,
except a bottle of wine or so , after dinner!
In like manner some call it early to retire at ten or eleven o'clock.
Others think ten very late. Dr. Good, an English writer on medicine,
in treating some of the appropriate means of preventing the gout
in those who are predisposed to it, after giving directions in
regard to diet, drink, excercise, &c., recommends an early hour
of retiring to rest. 'By all means,' says he, 'you should to to
bed by eleven.'
To half the population of New England such a
direction would seen strange; but by the inhabitants of cities
and large towns, who already begin to ape the customs and fashions
of the old world, the caution is well understood. People who are
in the habit of making and attending parties which commence at
9 or 10 o'clock in the evening, can hardly be expected to rise
with the sun.
We hear much said about the benefit of the morning air. Many wise
men have supposed the common opinion on this subject to be erroneous;
and that the mistake has arisen from the fact that being refreshed
and invigorated by rest, the change is within instead of without;
that our physical frames and mental faculties are more healthy
than they were the previous evening, rather than that the surrounding
atmosphere has altered.
Whether the morning air is more healthy or not, it is certainly
healthy enough. Besides, there are so many reasons for early rising
that if I can persuade the reader to go to bed early, I shall
have little to fear of his lying late in the morning.
1st. He who rises early and plans his work, and early sets himself
about it, generally finds his business go well with him the whole
day. He has taken time by the foretop; and will be sure to go
before, or drive his business; while his more tardy neighbor 'suffers
his business to drive him.' There is something striking in the
feeling produced by beginning a day's work thus seasonably. It
gives an impulse to a man's thoughts, speech, and actions,
which usually lasts through the day. This is not a mere whim,
but sober fact; as can be attested by thousands. The person who
rises late, usually pleads (for mankind are very ingenious in
defence of what falls in with thier own inclinations,) that he
does as much in the progress of the day, as those who rise early.
This may, in a few instances, be true; but in general, facts show
the reverse. The motions of the early riser will be more lively
and vigorous all day. He may, indeed, become dull late in the
evening, but he ought to be so.
Sir Matthew Hale said that after spending a Sunday well, the rest
of the week was usually prosperous. This is doubtless to be accounted
for --- in part at least --- on the above principle.
* Dr. Franklin, in view of the latter fact, wrote a humourous
Essay, at Paris, in which he labored to show the people of that
luxurious and dissipated city, that the sun gives light as soon
as it rises.
and waking, after nature has been fully gratified. He who is awake
may be doing something; he who is asleep, is receiving the refreshment
necessary to fit him for action: but the hours spent in dozing
and slumbering can hardly be called existence.'
The late Dr. Smith, of Yale College, in his lectures, used to
urge on his hearers never to take 'the second nap.' He said that
if this rule were steadily and universally followed by persons
in health, --- there would be no dozing or oversleeping. If, for
once, they should awake from the first nap before nature was sufficiently
restored, the next night would restore the proper balance. In
laying this down as a rule, Dr. Smith would, of course, except
those instances in which we were awakened by accident.
intended man should excercise during the day, and sleep in the
night. I do not say the whole night; because in the winter and
in high northern latitudes, this would be devoting an unreasonable
portion of time to sleep. It would hardly do to sleep three or
four months. But in all countries, and in all climates, we should
try to sleep half our hours before midnight.
who should sleep from nine to five; --- a period one hour shorter.
But if so, he actually loses an hour of time a day. And you well
know, if Franklin had not told you so, that time is money .
Now, if we estimate the value of this time at ten cents an hour
for one person in four, of the population of the United States
--- and this is probably a fair estimate --- the loss to an individual
in a year, or 313 working days, would be $31.30; and in 50 years,
$1565. A sum sufficient to buy a good farm in many parts of the
country. The loss to a population equal to that of the United
States, would, in fifty years, be no less than five thousand and
eighty-six millions of dollars!
But this is not the whole less. The time of the young and old
is beyond all price for the purposes of mental and moral involvement.
Especially is this true of the precious golden hours of the morning.
Think, then, of the immense waste in a year! At twelve hours a
day, more than a million of years of valuable time are wasted
annually in the United States.
I have hitherto made my estimates on the supposition that we do
not sleep to much, in the aggregate, and that the only loss sustained
arises from the manner of procuring it. But suppose, once more,
we sleep an hour too much daily. This involves a waste just twice
as great as that which we have already estimtated.
Do you startle at these estimates! It is proper that many of you
should. You have mispent time enough. Awake your 'drowsy souls,'
and shake off your stupid habits. Think of Napoleon breaking up
the boundaries of kingdoms, and dethroning kings, and to accomplish
these results, going through with an amount of mental and bodily
labor that few constitutions would be equal to, with only four
hours of sleep in twenty-four. Think of Brougham too, who works
as many hours, perhaps, as any man in England, and has as much
influence, and yet sleeps very few; i.e., only four. A hundred
persons might be named, and the list would include some of the
greatest benefactors of their race, who never think of sleeping
more than six hours a day. And yet many of you are scarcely contented
with eight!
Would you conquer as Bonaparte did ---- not states, provinces,
and empires , --- but would you aspire to the high honor of conquering
yourselves, and of extending your conquests intellectually and
morally, you must take the necessary steps. The path is a plain
one; requiring nothing but a little moral courage. 'What man has
done, man may do.' I know you do not and ought not aspire to conquer
kingdoms, or to become prime ministers; but you ought to aspire
to get victory over yourselves: ---- a victory as much more noble
than those of Napoleon, and Caesar, and Alexander, as intellectual
and moral influence are superior to mere brute force.
SECTION VII. On Duty to Parents .
It was the opinion of a very eminent and observing man, that those
who are obedient to parents, are more healthy, long lived, and
happy than those who are disobedient. And he reasons very fairly
on the subject.
No I do not know whether the promise annexed to the fifth command,
(whatever might have been intended, as addressed to the Jews,)
has any special reference to happiness in this life. I only know
that in general, those who are obedient to parents are apt to
be virtuous in other respects; for the virtues as well as the
vices usually go in companies. But that virtue in general tends
to long life and happiness, nobody will entertain a doubt.
I am sorry, however, to find that the young, when they approach
adult years, are apt to regard authority as irksome. It should
not be so. So long as they remain under the parental roof, they
ought to feel it a pleasure to conform to the wishes of the parent
is all the arraignments of the the family, if not absolutely unreasonable.
And even in the latter case, it is my own opinion --- and one
which has not been hastily formed, either --- that it would be
better to submit, with cheerfulness; and for three reasons.
1st. For the sake of your own reputation; which will always be
endangered by disobedience, however unjust the parental claim
may be.
2d. From a love of your parents, and a sense of what you owe them
from their kind care; together with a conviction that perfect
rectitude is not to be expected. You will find error, more or
less, everywhere around you --- even in yourselves; why should
you expecte perfection in your parents?
3d. Because it is better to suffer wrong than to do wrong. Perhaps
there is nothing which so improves human character, as suffering
wrongfully; although the world may be slow to admit the principle.
More than this; God himself has said a great deal about obedience
to parents.
If real evils multiply so that a young man finds he cannot remain
in his father's house, without suffering not only in his feelings,
but permanently in his temper and disposition, I will not say
that it is never best to leave it. I do not believe, however,
there is often any such necessity. Of those who leave their paternal
home on this plea, I believe nine-hundred and ninety-nine in a
thousand might profitably remain, if they would; and that a very
large number would find the fault in themselves --- in their own
temper, disposition or mistaken views --- rather than in their
parents.
And what is to be gained by going away? Unfortunately this is
a question too seldom asked by restless, or headstrong youths;
and when asked and answered, it is usually found that their unhappy
experience proves the answer to have been incorrect.
I have seldom known a youth turn out well who left his parents
or his guardian or master. On thi subject, Franklin, I know, is
often triumphantly referred to; but for one such instance as that,
I hazard nothing in saying there are hundreds of a contrary character.
Within the circle of my own observation, young men who leave in
this manner, have wished themselves back again a thousand times.
But be this as it may, so long as you remain in the family, if
you are 70 years of age, by all means yield to authority implicitly,
and if possible, cheerfully. Avoid, at least, altercation and
reproaches. If things do not go well, fix your eye upon some great
example of suffering wrongfully, and endeavor to profit by it.
There is no sight more attractive than that of a well ordered
family; one in which every child, whether five years old or fifty,
submits cheerfully to those rules and regulations which parental
authority has thought fit to impose. It is, to use a strong expression,
the image of heaven. But, exactly in the same proportion, a family
of the contrary character resembles the regions below.
Nor is this all. It is an ancient maxim, --- and however despised
by some of the moderns, none can be more true, --- that he only
is fit to command who has first learned to obey. Obedience, is,
in fact, the great lesson of human life. We first learn to yield
our will to the dicates of parental
love and wisdom. Through them we learn to yield submissively to
the great laws of the Creator, as established in the material
world. We learn to avoid, if possible, the flame, the hail, the
severity of the cold, the lightning, the tornado, and the earthquake;
and we do not choose to fall from a precipice, to have a heavy
body fall on us, to receive vitriol or arsenic into our stomachs,
(at least in health) or to remain a very long time, immersed in
water, or buried in the earth. We submit also to the government
under which we live. All these are lessons of obedience. But the
Christian goes farther; and it is his purpose to obey not only
all these laws, but any additional ones he may find imposed, whether
they pertain to material or immaterial existences.
In short, he who would put himself in the most easy position,
in the sphere allotted him by the Author of Nature, must learn
to obey, --- often implicitly and unconditionally. At least he
must know how to obey: and the earlier this knowledge is acquired,
and corresponding habits established, the better and happier will
he find his condition, and the more quiet his conscience.
SECTION VIII. Faithfulness .
Hardly any thing pleases me more in a young man, than faithfullness
to those for whom he is employed, whether parents, guardians,
masters, or others.
There appears to be a strange misapprehension, in the minds of
many, in regard to this point. There are few who will not admit,
in theory, whatever may be their practice, that they ought to
be faithful to their parents. And by far the majority of the young
doubtless perceive the propriety of being faithful to their masters;
so long, at least, as they are present. I will even go farther
and admit that the number of young men --- sons, wards, apprentices,
and servants --- who would willingly be so far unfaithful as to
do any thing positively wrong because those who are set over them
happen to be absent, is by no means considerable.
But by faitfulness to our employers, I mean something more than
the mere doing of things because we are obliged to do them, or
because we must. I wish to see young men feel an interest in the
well being and success of their employers; and take as good care
of their concerns and property, whether they are present or absent,
as if they were their own. The youth who would be more industrious,
perservering, prudent, economical, and attentive in business,
if the profits were his own, than he now is, does not in my opinion
come up to the mark at which he should aim.
The great apology for what I call unfaithfulness to employers,
is, 'What shall I get by it?' that is, by being faithful. I have
seen so many a young man who would labor at the employment regularly
assigned him, during a certain number of hours, or till a certain
job was completed, after which he seemed unwilling to lift a finger,
except for his own amusement, gratification, or emolument. A few
minutes' labor might repair a breach in a wall or corn crib, and
save the owner many dollars worth of property, but it is passed
by! By putting a few deranged parcel of goods in their proper
place, or writing down some small item of account, which would
save his employer much loss of time or money, or both, a faithfull
clerk might often do a great service. Would he not do it, if the
loss was to be his own? Why not then do it for his employer?
Those who neglect things, or perform them lazily or carelessly,
because they imagine they shall get nothing for it, would do well
to read the following story of a devoted and faithful domestic;
which I suppose to be a fact. It needs no comment.
A Mahratta Prince, in passing through a certain apartment, one
day, discovered one of his servants asleep with his master's slippers
clasped so tightly to his breast, that he was unable to disengage
them. Struck with the fact, and concluding at once, that a person
who was so jealously careful of a trifle, could not fail to be
faithful when entrusted with a thing of more importance, he appointed
him a member of his body-guards. The result proved that the prince
was not mistaken. Rising in office, step by step, the young man
soon became the most distinguished military commander in Mahratta;
and his fame ultimately spread through all India.
SECTION IX. On Forming Temperate Habits .
'Be temperate in all things,' is an excellent rule, and of very
high authority.
Drunkenness and Gluttony are vices so degrading, that advice is,
I must confess, nearly lost on those who are capable of indulging
in them. If any youth, unhappily initiated in these odious and
debasing vices, should happen to see what I am now writing, I
beg him to read the command of God, to the Israelites, Deut. xxi.
The father and mother are to take the bad son 'and bring him to
the elders of the city; and they shall say to the elders, this
our son will not obey our voice: he is a glutton and a drunkard.
And all the men of the icty shall stone him with stones, that
he die.' This will give him some idea of the odiousness of his
crime, at least in the sight of Heaven.
But indulgence far short of gross drunkenness and gluttony is
to be deprecated: and the more so, because it is too often looked
upon as being no crime at all. Nay, there are many more persons,
who boast of a refined taste in matters connected with eating
and drinking, who are so far from being ashamed of employing their
thoughts on the subject, that it is their boast that they do it.
Gregory, one of the Christian fathers, says: 'It is not the quantity
or the quality of the meat, or drink, but the love of it, that
is condemned:' that is to say, the indulgence beyond the absolute
demands of nature; the hankering after it; the neglect of some
duty or other for the sake of the enjoyments of the table. I believe,
however, there may be error, both in quantity and quality.
This love of what are called 'good eating and drinking,' if very
unamiable in grown persons, is perfectly hateful in a youth; and,
if he indulge in the propensity, he is already half ruined. To
warn you against acts of fraud, robbery, and violence, is not
here my design. Neither am I speaking against acts which the jailor
and the hangman punish, nor against those moral offences which
all men condemn, but against indulgences, which, by men in general,
are deemed not only harmless, but meritorious; but which observation
has taught me to regard as destructive to human happiness; and
against which all ought to be cautioned, even in their boyish
days.
Such indulgences are, in the first place, very expensive. The
materials are costly, and the preparation even more so. What a
monstrous thing, that, in order to satisfy the appetite of one
person there must be one or two others at work constantly.[footnoted: *I have occasionally seen four or five persons in constant
employ, solely to supply the wants of a family of the same number,
whose health, collectively, required an amount of physical labor
adequate to their own wants.] More fuel, culinary implements, kitchen room: what! all these
merely to tickle the palate of four or five people, and especially
people who can hardly pay their bills! And, then, the loss of
time --- the time spent in pleasing the palate!
"A young man," says an English writer, "some years ago, offered
himself to me, as an amanuensis, for which he appeared to be perfectly
qualified. The terms were settled, and I requested him to sit
down, and begin; but looking out of the window, whence he could
see the church clock, he said, somewhat hastily, 'I cannot stop
now sir, I must go to dinner.' 'Oh!' said I, 'you must go to dinner,
must you! Let the dinner, which you must wait upon to-day, have
your constant services, then; 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 sooner than was necessary."
This anecdote is good, so far as it shows the folly of an unwillingness
to deny ourselves in small matters, in any circumstances. And
yet punctuality, even at meals, is not to be despised.
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 trouble; they occasion no anxiety to
please them; they are sure not to make their sittings inconveniently
long; and, above all, their example teaches moderation to the
rest of the company.
Your notorious 'lovers of good cheer' are, on the contrary, not
to be invited without due 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 eating and drinking' are left,
very generally, to enjoy it by themselves, and at their own expense.
But, all other considerations aside, health, one of the most valuable
of earthly possessions, and without which all the rest are worth
nothing, bids us not only to refrain from excess in eating and
drinking, but to stop short of what might be indulged in without
any apparent impropriety.
The words of ECCLEIASTICUS ought to be often read by young people.
'Eat modestly that which is set before thee, and devour not, lest
thou be hated. When thou sittest amongst many, reach not thine
hand out first of all. How little is sufficient for a man well
taught! A wholesome sleep cometh of a temperate belly. Such a
man riseth up in the 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 himself prolongeth his life. Show
not thy valientness in wine; for wine hath destroyed many.'
How true are these words! How well worthy of a constant place
in our memories! Yet, what pains have been taken to apologize
for a life contrary to these precepts! And, what punishment can
be too great, what mark of infamy sufficiently signal, for those
pernicious villians of talent, who have employed that talent in
the composition of Bacchanalian songs; that is to say, pieces
of fine and captivating writing in praise of the most odius and
destructive vices in the black catalogue of human depravity!
(well, so much for beer commercials...)
'Who,' says the eccentric, but laborious Cobbett, 'what man, ever
performed a greater quantity of labor than I have performed? Now,
in a great measure, I owe my capability to perform this labor
to my disregard of dainties. I ate, during one whole year, one
mutton chop every day. Being once in town, with one son (then
a little boy) and a clerk, while my family was in the country,
I had, for several weeks, nothing but legs of mutton. The first
day, a leg of mutton boiled or roasted; second, cold; third, hashed;
then leg of mutton boiled; and so on.
'When I have been by myself, or nearly so, I have always 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 the ncessity of any talk about the matter. I
am certain that, upon an average, I have not, during my life,
spent more than thirty-five minutes a day at table, including
all the meals of the day. I like, and I take care to have, good
and clean victuals; but, if wholesome and clean, that is enough.
If I find it, by chance, too coarse for my appetite, I put the
food aside, or let somebody do it; and leave the appetite to gather
keenness.'
Now I have no special desire to recommend mutton chops to by readers,
nor to hold out the example of the individual whose language I
have quoted, as worthy of general imiation. There is one lesson
to be learned, however. Cobbett's never tiring industry is well
known. And if we can rely on his own statements in regard to his
manner of eating, we see another proof that what are called 'dainties,'
and even many things which are often supposed to be necessaries,
are very far from being indispensable to health or happiness.
(so how long did Cobbet live?)
I am even utterly opposed to the rapid eating of which he speaks.
In New England especially, the danger is on the other side. 'Were
it not from respect to others, I would never wish for more than
eight minutes to eat my dinner in,' said a merchant to me one
day. Now I can swallow a meal at any time, in five minutes; but
this is not eating. It it is, the teeth were made --- as well
as the saliva --- almost in vain. No! this swallowing down a meal
in five or even ten minutes, so common among the active, enterprising,
and industrious people of this country, is neither healthy, nor
decent, nor economical. And instead of spending only thirty-five
minutes a day in eating; every man, woman and child ought, as
a matter of duty, to spend about twice the time in that way. This
would give the teeth and salivary glands an opportunity to come
up to the work which God in nature assigned them. We may indeed
cheat them for a time, but no with impunity, for a day of reckoning
will come; and some of our rapid eaters will find their bill (in
stomach or liver complaints, or gout and rheumatism) rather large.
They will probably lose more time in this way, than they can possible
save by eating rapidly.
The idea of preventing conversation about what we eat is also
idle, although Dr. Franklin and many other wise men, thought otherwise.
Some of our students in commons and elsewhere, suppose themselves
highly meritorious because they have adopted the plan of appointing
one of their number to read to the company, while the read are
eating. But they are sadly mistaken. Nothing is gained by the
practice. On the contrary, much is lost by it. The bow cannot
always remain bent, without injury. Neither can the mind always
be kept 'toned' to a high pitch. Mind and body must and will have
their relaxations.
I am not an advocate for wasting time or for eating more than
is necessary. Nay, I even believe, on the contrary, with most
medical men, that we generally eat about tiwce as much as nature
requires. But I do say, and with emphasis, that food must be masticated.
Before I dismiss the subject of temperance, let me beseech you
to resolve to free yourselves from slavery to tea and coffee.
Experience has taught me, that they are injurious to health. Even
my habits of sobriety, moderate eating, and early rising, were
not, until I left off using them, sufficient to give me that complete
health which I have since had.
I do not undertake to prescribe for others exactly; but, I do
say, that to pour down regularly, every day, a quart or two of
warm liquid, whether under the name of tea, coffee, soup, grog,
or anything else, is greatly injurious to health. However, at
present, what I have to represent to you, is the great deduction
which they make, from your power of being useful, and also from
your power to husband your income, whatever it may be, and from
whatever source arising. These things cost something; and wo to
him who forgets, or never knows, till he pays it, how large a
bill they make --- in the course of a year.
How much to be desired is it, that mankind would return once more,
to the use of no other drink than that pure beverage which nature
prepared for the sole drink of man! So long as we are in health,
we need no other; nay, we have no right to any other. It is the
testimony of all, or almost all whose testimony is worth having,
that water is the best known drink. But if water is better than
all others, all others are, of course, worse than water.
As to food and drink generally, let me say in conclusion, that
simplicity is the grand point to aim at. Water, we have seen,
is the sole drink of man; but there is a great variety of food
provided for his sustenance. He is allowed to select from this
immense variety, thsoe kinds, which the experience of mankind
generally, combined with his own, show to be most useful. He can
live on almost anything. Still there is a choice to be observed,
and so far as his circumstances permit, he is in duty bound to
exercise that choice. God has said by his servant Paul; 'Whether
ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do,' &c.
What we believe to be most useful to us, though at first disagreeable,
we may soon learn to prefer. Our habits, then, should be early
formed. We should always remember these two rules, however. 1st.
The fewer different articles of food used at any one meal, the
better; however excellent in their nature those may be which are
left untasted. 2nd. Never eat a moment longer than the food, if
well masticated, actually revives and refreshes you. The moment
it makes you feel heavy or dull, or palls upon the taste, you
have passed the line of safety.
SECTION X. On Suppers .
Suppers, properly so called, are confined, in a considerable degree,
to cities; and I was at first in doubt whether I should do as
much good by giving my voice against them, as I should of mischief
by spreading through the country the knowledge of a wretched practice.
But farther reflection has convinced me that I ought to offer
my sentiments on this subject.
By suppers, I mean a fourth meal, just before going to bed. Individuals
who have eaten quite as many times during the day as nature requires,
and who take theri tea, and perhaps a little bread and butter,
at six, must go at nine or ten, they think, and eat another hearty
meal. Some make it the must luxurious repast of the day.
Now many of our plain country people do not know that such a practice
exists. The often eat too much, it is true, at their third meal,
but their active habits and pure air enable them to digest it
better than their city brethren could. Besides, their third meal
never comes so late, by several hours, as the suppers of cities
and towns.
Our English ancestors, 200 years ago, on both sides of the Atlantic,
dined at eleven, took tea early, and had no suppers. So it was
with the Jews of old, one of the healthiest nations that ever
lived beyond the Mediterranean. They knew nothing of our modern
dinners at three or four, and suppers at nine, ten, or eleven.
But not to 'take something late at night with the rest,' would
at present be regarded as 'vulgar,' and who could endure it? Here,
I confess, I tremble for some of my readers, whose lot it is to
be cast in the city, lest they should, in this single instance,
hesitate to 'take advice.' But I will hope for better things.
If you would give your stomach a season of repose, as well as
the rest of your system; if you would sleep soundly, and either
dream not at all, or have your dreams pleasant ones; if you would
rise in the morning with your head clear, and free from pain,
and your mouth clean and sweet, instead of being parched, and
foul; if you would unite your voice --- in spirit at least ---
with the voices of praise to the Creator, which ascend everywhere
unless it be from the dwellings of creatures that should be men,
--- if, in one word, you would lengthen your lives by several
years, and increase the enjoyment of the last thirty years 33
per cent. without diminishing that of the first forty, then I
beg of you to abstain from suppers!
I am acquainted with one individual, who partly from a conviction
of the injury to himself, and partly from a general detestation
of the practice, not only abstains from every thing of the kind,
but from long observation of its effects, goes to the other extreme,
and seldom takes even a third meal. And I know of no evil which
arises from it. On the contrary, I believe that, for him, no course
could be better. Be that as it may, adult individuals should never
eat more than three times a day, nor should they ever partake
of any food, solid or liquid, within three or four hours of the
period of retiring to rest.
But if eating ordinary suppers is pernicious, what shall we say
of the practice which some indulge who aspire to be pillars in
church or state, with others of pretensions less lofty, of going
to certain eating houses, at a very late hour, and spending a
considerable portion of the night --- not in eating, merely, but
in quaffing poisionous draughts, and spreading noxious fumes,
and uttering language and songs which better become the inmates
of Pandemonium*, than those of the counting-house, the college,
or the chapel! If there be within the limits of any of our cities
or towns, scenes which answer to this horrid picture, let 'it
not be told in Gath, or published in the streets of Askelon,'
lest the fiends of the pit should rejoice; -- lest the demons
of darkness should triumph.
SECTION XI. On Dress .
The object of dress is fourfold: 1st. It is designed as a covering;
2d. As a means of warmth; 3d. As a defence; 4th. To improve our
appearance.
These purposes of dress should all be considered; and in the order
here presented. That dress, which best answers all these purposes
combined, both as respects the material and the form or fashion,
is unquestionably the best and most appropriate. It is certainly
true that the impressions which a person's first appearance makes
upon the minds of those around him are deep and permanent,
SECTION XII. Bashfulness and Modesty .
Dr. Young says, 'The man that blushes is not quite a brute.' This
is undoubtedly true; yet nothing is more clear, as Addison has
shown us, than a person may be both bashful and impudent.
I know the world commend the former quality, and condemn the latter;
but I deem them both evils. Perhaps the latter is the greater
of the two. The proper medium is true modesty. This is always
commendable.
We are compelled to take the world, in a great measure, as it
is. We can hardly expect men to come as buy our wares, unless
we advertise or expose them for sale. So if we would commend ourselves
to the noice of our fellow men, we must set ourselves up, ---
not for something which we are not; -- but for what, upon careful
examination, we find reason to think we are. Many a good and valuable
man has gone through this life, without being properly estimated;
from the vain belief that true merit could not always escape unnoticed.
This belief, after all, is little else but a species of fatalism.
By setting ourselves up, I do not mean puffing and pretending,
or putting on airs of haughtiness or arrogance; or any affectation
whatever. But there are those --- as some of them are persons
of good sense, in many respects, who can scarcely answer properly,
when addressed, or look the person with whom they are conversing
in the face; and who often render themeselves ridiculous for fear
they shall be so. I have seen a man of respectable talents, who,
in conversation never raised his eyes higher than the tassels
of his friend's boots; and another who could never converse without
turning half or three-quarters round, so as to present his shoulder
or the backside of his head, instead of a plain, honest face.
I have known young men injured by bashfulness. It is vain to say
that it should not be so. The world is not what it should be,
in many respects; and I must insist taht it is our duty, to take
it as it is, in order to make it better, or even in order to live
in it with comfort. He that thinks hh shall not, most surely will
not, please. A man of sense, and knowledge of this world, will
assert his own rights, and pursue his own purposes as steadily
and uninterruptedly as the most impudent man living; but then
there is at the same time an aire of modesty in all he does; while
an overbearing or impudent manner of doing the same things, would
undoubtedly have given offense. Hence a certain wise man has said;
'He who knows himself will never be impudent.'
Perpetual embarrassment in company or in conversation, is sometimes
even construed into meanness. Avoid, --- if you can do it, without
too great a sacrifice --- every appearance of deserving a charge
so weighty.
SECTION XIII. Politeness and Good-Breeding .
Awkwardness is scarcely more tolerable than bashfulness. It must
proceed from ne of two things; either from not having kept good
company, or from not having derived any benefit from it. Many
very worthy people have certain odd tricks, and ill habits, that
excite a prejudice against them, which is not easy to overcome.
Hence the importance of good breeding.
Now there are not a few who despise all these little things of
life, as they call them; and yet much of their lives is taken
up with them, small as they are. And since these self same little
things cannot be dispensed with, it it not better that they should
be done in the easiest, and at the same time the pleasantest manner
possible?
There is no habit more difficult to attain, and few so necessary
to possess, as perfect good-breeding. It is equally inconsistent
with a stiff formality, and impertinent forwardness, and an awkward
bashfulness. True Christian education would seem to include it,
and yet unfortunately, Christians are not always polite.
Is it not surprising that we may sometimes observe, in mere men
of the world, that kind of carriage which should naturally be
expected from an individual thoroughly imbued with the spirit
of Christianity, while his very neighbors, who are professing
Christians, appear, by their conduct, to be destitute of such
a spirit? Which, then, in practice (I mean so far as fact is concerned)
are the best Christians? But I know what will be the answer; and
I know that these things ought not so to be.
No good reasons can be given why a Christian should not be as
well-bred as his neighbor. It is difficult to conceive how a person
can follow the rules given in the Sermon on the Mount, without
being, and showing himself to be, well-bred. I have even known
men who were no friends to the bible, to declare it as their unequivocal
belief that he whose life should conform to the principles of
that sermon, could not avoid being truly polite.
There are not a few who confound good-breeding with affectations,
just as they confound a reasonable attention to dress with foppery.
This calling things by wrong names is very common, how much soever
it may be lamented.
Good-breeding, or true politeness, is the art of showing men,
by external signs, the internal regard we have for them. It arises
from good sense, improved by good company. Good-breeding is never
to be learned, though it may be improved, by the study of books;
and therefore they who attempt it, appear stiff and pedantic.
The really well-bred, as they become so by use and by observation,
are not
liable to affectation. You see good breeding in all they do, without
seeing the art of it. Like other habits, it is acquired by practice.
An engaging manner and genteel address may be out of our power,
although it is a misfortune that it should be so. But it is in
the power of every body to be kind, condescending, and affable.
It is in the power of every person who has any thing to say to
a fellow being, to say it with kind feelings, and with a sincere
desire to please; and this, whenever it is done, will atone for
much awkwardness in the manner of expression. Forced complaisance
is foppery; and affected easiness is ridiculous.
Good-breeding is, and ought to be, an amiable and persuasive thing;
it beautifies the actions and even the looks of men. But the grimace
of good-breeding is not less odious.
In short, good-breeding is a forgetting of ourselves so far as
to seek what may be aggreeable to others, but in so artless and
delicate a manner as will scarcely allow them to perceive that
we are so employed; and the regarding of ourselves, not as the
centre of motion on which everything else is to revolve, but only
as one of the wheels or parts, in a vast machine, embracing other
wheels and parts of equal, and perhaps more than equal importance.
It is hence utterly opposed to selfishness, vanity, or pride.
Nor is it proportioned to the supposed riches and rank of him
whose favor and patronage you would gladly cultivate; but extends
to all. It knows how to contradict with respect; and to please,
without adulation.
The following are a few plain directions for attaining the character
of a well-bred man.
SECTION XIV. Personal Habits .
I have elsewhere spoken of the importance of early rising. Let
me merely request you, in this place, to form a habit of this
kind, from which no ordinary circumstances shall suffer you to
depart. Your first object after rising and devotion, should be
to take a survey of the business which lies before you during
the day, making of course a suitable allowance for exigencies.
I have seldom known a man in business thrive --- and men of business
we all ought to be, whatever may be our occupation --- who did
not rise early in the morning, and plan his work for the day.
Some of those who have been most successful, made it a point to
have this done before daylight. Indeed, I was intimately aquainted
with one man who laid out the business of the day, attended family
worship, and breakfasted before sunrise; and this too, at all
seasons of the year.
Morning gowns and slippers are very useful things, it is said.
But the reasons given for their utility are equally in favor of
always wearing them. 'They are loose and comfortable.' Very well;
Should not our other dress always be loose? 'They save other clothes.'
They why not wear them all day long? The truth, after all, is,
that they are fashionable, and as we usually give the true reason
for a thing last, this is probably the principle reason why they
are so much in use. I am pretty well convinced, however, that
they are of little real use to him who is determined to eat his
bread 'in the sweat of his face,' according to the Divine appointment.
Looking glasses are useful in their place, but like many other
conveniences of life, by no means indispensable; and so much abused,
that a man of sense would almost be tempted, for the sake of example,
to lay them aside. Of all wasted time, none is more foolishly
wasted than that which is employed in unnecessary looking at one's
own pretty face.
This may seem a matter of small consequence; but nothing can be
of small importance to which we are obligated to attend every
day. If we dressed or shaved but once a year, or once a month,
the case would be altered; but this is a piece of work that must
be done once every day; and, as it may cost only about five minutes
of time, and may be, and frequently is, made to cost thirty, or
even fifty, minutes; and, as only fifteen minutes make about a
fiftieth part of the hours of our average day-light; this being
the case, it is a matter of real importance.
Sir JOHN SINCLAIR asked a friend whether he meant to have a son
of his (then a little boy) taught Lating? 'No,' said he, 'but
I mean to do something a great deal better for him.' 'What is
that?' said Sir John. 'Why,' said the other, 'I mean to teach
him to shave with cold water, and without a glass.'
My readers may smile, but I can assure them that Sir John is not
alone. There are many others who have adopted this practice, and
found it highly beneficial. One individual, who had tried it for
years, has the following spirited remarks on the subject.
'Only think of the inconvenience attending the common practice!
There must be hot water; to have this there must be a fire, and,
in some cases, a fire for that purpose alone; to have these, there
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 another dressing bout: or, you go in a slovenly
state all that day, and teh next day the thing must be done, or
cleanliness must be abandoned altogether. If you are on a journey,
you must wait the pleasure of the servants at the 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
the end of your day's journey in good time, you are benighted,
and ahve to endure all the great inconveniences attendant on tardy
movements. And all this from the apparently insignificant affair
of shaving. How many a piece of important business has failed
from a short delay! And how many thousand of such delays daily
porceed from this unworthy cause!'
These remarks are especially important to those persons in boarding-houses
and elsewhere, for whom hot water, if they use it, must be expressly
prepared.
Le me urge you never to say I cannot go, or do such a thing, till
I am shaved or dressed. Take care always to BE shaved and dressed,
and tehn you will always be ready to act. But to this end the
habit muyst be formed in early life, and pertinaciously adhered
to.
There are those who can truly say that to the habit of adhering
to the principles which have been laid down, they owe much of
their success in life; that however sober, discreet, and abstinent
they might have been, they never could have accomplished much
without it. We should suppose
by reasoning beforehand, that the army could not be very favorable
to steady habits of this or any kind; yet the following is the
testimony of one who had made the trial.
'To the habit of early rising and husbanding my time well, more
than to any other thing, I owed my very extraordinary promotion
in the army. I was always ready. If I had to mount guard at ten,
I was ready at nine: never did any man, or any thing, wait one
moment for me. Being, at an age under twenty years, raised from
corporal to sergeant major at once, over the heads of thirty sergeants,
I should naturally have been an object of envy and hatred; but
this habit of early rising really subdued these passions.
'Before my promotion, a clery 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 done, and I myself was on the parade ground,
walking, in fine weather, for an hour perhaps.
'My custom was this: to get up, in summer, at daylight, and in
winter at four o'clock; shave, dress, even to the putting on of
my sword-belt over my shoulder, and having my sword lying on the
table before me, ready to hang by my side. Then I ate a bit of
cheese, or pork, and bread. Then I prepared my report, which was
filled up as fast as the companies brought me in the materials.
After this, I had an hour or two to read, before the time came
fro any duty out of doors, unless when the regiment, or part of
it, went out to excercise in the morning. When this was the case,
and the matter was left to me, I always has it on the ground in
such a time as that the bayonets glistened in the rising sun;
a sight which gave me delight, of which I often think, but which
I should in vain endeavor to describe.
'If the officers were to go out, eight or ten o'clock was the
hour. Sweating men in the heat of the day, or breaking in upon
the time for cooking their dinner, puts all things out of order,
and all men out of humor. When I was commander, the men had a
long day of leisure before them: they could ramble into town or
into the woods; go to get raspberries, to catch birds, to catch
fish, or to pursue any other recreation, and such of them as chose,
and were qualified, to work their trades. So that here, arising
solely from the early habits of one very young man, were pleasant
and happy days given to hundreds.'
For my own part, I confess that only a few years since, I should
have laughed heartily at some of these views, especially the cold
water system of shaving. But a friend whom I esteemed, and who
shaved with cold water, said so much in its favor that I ventured
to make the trial; and I can truly say taht I would not return
to my former slavery to hot water, if I had a servant who had
nothing
else to do but furnish it. I cannot indeed say with a recent writer
( I think in the Journal of Health) that cold water is a great
deal better than warm; but I can and do say that it makes little
if any difference with me which I use; though on going out into
the cold air immediately afterward, the skin is more likely to
chap after the use of warm water than cold. Besides I think the
use of warm water more likely to produce eruptions on the skin.
--- Sometimes, though not generally, I shave, like Sir John Sinclair,
without a glass; but I would never be enslaved to one, convenient
as it is.
SECTION XV. Bathing and Cleanliness .
Cleanliness of the body has, some how or other, such a connection
with mental and morl purity, (whether cause or effect --- or both
--- I will not undertake now to determine) that I am unwilling
to omit the present opportunity of urging its importance. There
are those who are so attentive to this subject as to wash their
whole bodies in water, either cold or warm, every day, and never
to wear the same clothes, during the day, that they have slept
in the previous night. Now this habit my by some be called whimsical;
but I think it deserves a better name. I consider this extreme,
if it ought to be called an extreme, as vastly more safe than
the common extreme of neglect.
Is it not shameful --- would it not be, were human duty properly
understood --- to pass months, and even years, without washign
(sic) the whole body once? There are thousands and tens of thousands
of both sexes, who are exceedingly nice, even to fatidiousness,
about externals, -- who, like those mentioned in the gosple, keep
the 'outside of the cup and the platter,' -- but alas! how is
it within? Not a few of us, -- living, as we do, in a land where
soap and water are abundant and cheap -- would blush, if the whole
story were told.
This chapter, if extended so far as to embrace the whole subject
of cleanliness of person, dress, and apartments, and cold and
warm bathing, would alone fill a volume; a volume too, which,
if well prepared, would be of great value, especially to all young
men. But my present limits do not permit of any thing farther.
In regard to cold bathing, however, allow me to refer you to two
articles in the third volume of the Annals of Education, pages
315 and 344, which contain the best directions I can give on this
subject.
SECTION XVI. On Little Things.
There are many things which, viewed without any reference to prevailing
habits, manners, and customs, appear utterly unworthy of attention;
and yet, after all, much of our happiness will be found to depend
on them. We are to remember that we live -- not alone, on the
earth -- but among
a multitude, each of whom claims, and is entitled to his own estimate
of things. Now it often happens that what we deem a little thing,
another, who views the subject differently, will regard as a matter
of importance.
Among the items to which I refer, are many of the customary salutations
and civilities of life; and the modes of dress. Now it is perfectly
obvious that many common phrases which are used at meeting and
separating, during the ordinary interviews and concerns of life,
as well as in correspondance, are in themselves wholly unmeaning.
But viewed as an introduction to things of more importance, these
little words and phrases at the opening of a conversation, and
as the language of hourly and daily salutation, are certainly
useful. They are indications of good and friendly feeling; and
without them we should not, and could not, secure the confidence
of some of those among whom we are obliged to live. They would
regard us as not only unsocial, but selfish; and not only selfish,
but proud or misanthropic.
On account of meeting with much that disgusts us, many are tempted
to avoid society generally. The frivolous conversation, and still
more frivolous conduct, which they meet with, they regard as a
waste of time, and perhaps even deem it a duty to resign themselves
to solitude. This, however, is a great mistake. Those who have
been most useful to mankind acted very differently. They mingled
with the world, in hopes to do something towards reforming it.
The greatest of philosophers, as well as Christians; --- even
the FOUNDER of Christianity himself --- sat down, and not only
sat down, but ate and drank in the society of those with whose
manners, and especially whose vices, he could have had no possible
sympathy.
Zimmerman, who has generally been regarded as an apostle of solitude,
taught that men ought not to 'reside in deserts, or sleep, like
owls, in the hollow trunks of trees.' 'I sincerely exhort my disciples,'
says he, ' not to absent themselves morosely from public places,
nor to avoid the social throng; which cannot fail to afford to
judicious, rational, and feeling minds, many subjects both of
amusement and instruction. It is true, that we cannot relish the
pleasures and taste the advantages of society, without being able
to give a patient hearing to the tongue of folly, to excuse error,
and to bear with infirmity.'
In like manner, we are not to disregard wholly, our dress. It
is true that the shape of a hat, or the cut of a coat may not
add to the strength of the mind, or the soundness of the morals;
but it is also true that people form an opinion of us from our
exteriour appearance; and will continue to do so; and first impressions
are very difficult to overcome. If we regard our own usefulness,
therefore, we shall not consider the fashion or character of our
dress as a little thing in its results. I have said elsewhere
that we ought neither to be the first nor the last in a fashion.
We should remember, also, that the world, in its various parts
and aspects, is made up of little things. So true is this, that
I have sometimes been very fond of the paradoxical remark, that
'little things are great things;' that is, in their results. For
who does not know that throughout the physical world, the mightiest
results are brought about by the silent working of small causes?
It is not the tornado, or the deluge, or even the occasional storm
of rain, that renews and animates nature, so much as the gentle
breeze, the soft refreshing shower, and the still softer and gentler
dews of heaven.
So, in human life, generally, they are the little things often,
that produce the mightiest results. It is he who takes care of
pence and farthings, not he who neglects them, that thrives. It
is he alone who guards his lips against the first improper word,
--- trifling as it may seem ---that is secure against future profanity.
He who indulges one little draught of alcoholic drink, is in danger
of ending a tippler; he who gives loose to one impure thought,
of ending the victim of lust and sensuality. Nor is it one single
gross, or as it were accidental act, viewed as insulated from
the rest --- however injurious it may be --- that inures the body,
or debases the mind, so much as the frequent repetition of those
smaller errors, whose habitual occurance goes to
establish the predominating choice of the mind, or affection of
the soul.
Avoid, the, the pernicious, the fatal error, that little things
are of no consequence: little sums of money, little fragments
of time, little or trifling words, little or apparently unimportant
actions. On this subject I cannot help adopting --- and feeling
its force too, --- the language of a friend of temperance in regard
to those who think themselves perfectly secure from danger, and
are believers in the harmlessness of little things. 'I tremble,'
said he, 'for the man that does not tremble for himself.'
SECTION XVII. Of Anger, and the means of re-
straining it .
There is doubtless much difference of native temperament. One
person is easily excited, another, more slowly. But there is a
greater difference still, resulting from our habits.
If we find ourselves easily led into anger, we should be extremely
careful how we indulge the first steps that lead towards it. Those
who naturally possess a mild temper may, with considerable safety,
do and say many things which others cannot. Thus we often say
of a person who has met with a misfortune, 'It is good enough
for him;' or of a criminal who has just been condemned to suffer
punishment, 'No matter; he deserves it.' Or perhaps we go farther,
and on finding him acquitted, say, 'He ought to have been hanged,
and even hanging was too good for him.'
Now all these things, in the mouths of the irritable, lead the
way to an indulgence of anger, however unperceived may be the
transition. It is on this principle that the saying of St. John
is so strikingly true; 'He that hateth his brother is a murderer;'
that is, he that indulges hatred has the seeds within him, not
only of out-breaking anger, but of murder.
It is on this account that I regret the common course taken with
children in relation to certain samller tribes of the animal creation.
They are allowed not only to destroy them, --- (which is doubtless
often a duty,) but to destroy them in anger; to indulge a permanent
hatred towards them; and to think this hatred creditable and scriptural.
When such feeling lead us to destroy even the most troublesom
or disgusting reptiles or insects. in anger, we have so far prepared
the way for indulgence of nager towards our fellow creatures,
whenever their conduct shall excite our displeasure.
We can hence see why he who has a violent temper should always
speak in a low voice, and study mildness and sweetness in his
tones. For loud, impassioned, and boisterous tones certainly excite
impassioned feelings. So do all the actions which indicate anger.
Thus Dr. Darwin has said that any individual, by using the language
and actions of an angry person, towards an imaginary object of
displeasure, and accompanying them by threats, and blows, with
a doubled or clinched fist, may easily work himself into a rage.
Of the justice of this opinion I am fully convinced, from actual
and repeated experiments.
If we find ourselves apt to be angry, we should endeavor to avoid
the road which leads to it. The first things to be done, is to
govern our voice. On this point, the story of the Quaker and the
merchant may not be uninstructive.
A merchant in London had a dispute with a Quaker gentleman about
the settlement of an account. The merchant was determined to bring
the action into court, --- a course of proceeding to which the
Quaker was wholly opposed; --- he therefore used every argument
in his power to convince the merchant of his error; but all to
no purpose.
Desirous of making a final effort, however, the Quaker called
at the house of the merchant, one morning, and inquired of the
servant if his master was at home. The merchant hearing the inquiry
from the top of the stairs, and knowing the voice, called out
loudly, 'Tell that rascal I am not at home.' The Quaker, looking
up towards him, said calmly; 'Well friend, may God put thee in
a better mind.'
The merchant was struck with the meekness of the reply, and after
thinking more deliberately of the matter, became convinced that
the Quaker was right, and he in the wrong. He requested to see
him, and after acknowledging his error, said, 'I have one question
to ask you. How were you able to bear my abuse with so much patience?'
'Friend,' replied the Quaker, 'I will tell thee. I was naturally
as hot and violent as thou art. But I knew that to indulge my
temper was sinful, and also very foolish. I observed that men
in a passion always spoke very loud; and I thought if I could
control my voice, I should keep down my passions. I therefore
made it a rule never to let it rise above a certain key; and by
a careful observation of this rule, I have, with the blessing
of God, entirely mastered my natural temper.'
When you are tempted by the conduct of those around you, to be
angry, endeavor to consider the matter for a few moments. If your
temper be so impetuous that you find this higly difficult, you
may adopt some other plan or device for gaining time. Some recommend
counting twenty or thirty, deliberately. The following anecdote
of the celebrated Zimmerman in exactly in point, and may afford
useful hints for instruction.
Owing in part to a diseased state of body, Zimmer-man was sometimes
irritable. One day, a Russian princess and several other ladies
entered his apartment to inquire after his health; when, in a
fit of petulance, he rose, and requested them to leave the room.
The prince entered some time
afterward, when Zimmerman had begun to repent of his rashness,
and after some interveneing conversation, advised him, whenever
he felt a disposition to treat his friends so uncivilly again,
to repeat, mentally, the Lord's prayer. This advice was followed,
and with success. Not long afterward the same prince came to him
in regard to the best manner of controlling the violence of those
transports of affection towards his young and amiable consort,
in which young and happy lovers are so apt to indulge. 'My dear
friend,' said Zimmerman, 'there is no expedient which can surpass
your own. Whenever you feel yourself overborne by passion, you
have only to repeat the Lord's prayer, and you will be able to
reduce it to a steady and permanent flame.'
By adopting Zimmerman's rule, we shall, as I have already observed,
gain time for reflection, than which nothing more is needed. For
it the cause of anger be a report, for example, of injury done
us by an absent person, either in words or deeds, how do we know
the report is true? Or it may only be partly true; and how do
we know, till we consider the matter well, whether it is worth
our anger at all? Or it at all, perhaps it deserves but a little
of it. It may be, too, that the person who said or did the thing
reported, did it by mistake, or is already sorry for it. At all
events, nothing can be gained by haste; much may be by delay.
If a passionate person give you ill language, you ought rather
to pity than be angry with him, for anger is a species of disease.
And to correct one evil, will you make another? If his being angry
is an evil, will it mend the matter to make another evil, by indulging
in passion yourself? Will it cure his disease, to throw yourself
into the same distemper? But if not, then how foolish is it to
indulge improper feelings at all!
On the same principles, and for the same reasons, you should avoid
returning railing for railing; or reviling for reproach. It only
kindles the more heat. Besides, you will often find silence, or
at least gentle words, as in the case of the Quaker just mentioned,
the best return for reproaches which could be devised. I say the
best 'return;' but I would not be understood as justifying any
specied of revenge. The kind of return here spoken of is precisely
that treatment which will be most likely to cure the distemper
in the other, by making him see, and be sorry for, his passion.
If the views taken in this section be true, it is easy to see
the consummate folly of all violence, whether between individuals
or collective bodies, whether it be by striking, duelling, or
war. For if an individual or a nation has done wrong, will it
annihilate that wrong by another wrong? Is it not obvious that
it only make two evils, where but one existed before? And can
two wrongs ever make one right action? Which is the most rational,
when the choice is in our power, to add to one existing evil,
another of similar or greater magnitude; or to keep quiet, and
let the world have but one cup of misery instead of two?
Besides, the language of Scripture is every where full and decided
on this point. 'Recompense to no man evil for evil,' and 'wo to
him by whom the offence cometh,' though found but once or twice
in just so many words, are in fact, some of the more prominent
doctrines of the New Testament; and I very much doubt whether
you can read many pages, in succession, in any part of the bible,
without finding this great principle enforced. The daily example
of the Savior, and the apostles and early Christians, is a full
confirmation of it, in practice.
On the Management of Business.
-------
SECTION I. On commencing Business.
YOUNG men are usually in haste to commence business for themselves.
This is an evil, and one which appears to me to be increasing.
Let me caution my readers to be on their guard against it.
The evils of running in debt will be adverted to elsewhere. I
mention the subject in this place, because the earlier you commence
business, the greater the necessity of resorting to credit. You
may, indeed, in some employments, begin on a very small scale;
but this is attended with serious disadvantages, especially at
the present day, when you must meet with so much competition.
Perhaps a few may be furnished with capital by their friends,
or by inheritance. In the latter case they may as well use their
money, if they receive it; but I have already endeavored to show
that it is generally for the interest of young men to rely upon
their own exertions. It is extremely difficult for a person who
has ever relied on others, to act with the same energy as those
who have been thrown upon their
own resources.* To learn the art of inheriting property or receiving
large gifts, and of acting with the same energy as if left wholly
to our own resources, must be reserved, I believe, for future
and wiser generations of our race.
I repeat it, therefore, every person had better defer going into
business for himself, until he can stand entirely on his own footing.
Is it asked how he can have funds from his own resources, before
he has actually commenced business for himself? Why the thing
is perfectly easy. He has only to labor a few years in the service
of another. True it is, he may receive but moderate wages during
this time; but on the other hand, he will be subjected to little
or no risk.
Let 1000 young men, at the age of 30 years, enter into business
with a given amount of capital, all acquired by their own hard
earnings, and let them pursue their business 30 years faithfully;
that is, till they are 60 years of age. Let 1000 others commence
at the age of 20, with three times the amount of capital possessed
by the former, but at the same time either inherited, or loaned
by their friends, and let them pursue their calling till they
are 60 years of age; or for a period of 40 years. We will
* This fact, so obvious to every student of human nature, has
sometimes given rise to an opinion that orphans make their way
best in the world. So far as the business of making money is concerned,
I am not sure but this is so.
suppose the naturual talents, capacity for doing business, and
expenditures --- in fact everything, --- the same, in both cases.
Now it requires no gift of prophecy to foretell, with certainty,
that at 60 years of age a far greater proportion of the 1000,
who began at 30 and depended solely on their own exertions, will
be men of wealth, than of those who began at 20 with three times
their capital. The reason of these results is found in the very
nature of things, as I have shown both above, and in my remarks
on industry.
But these views are borne out by facts. Go into any city in the
United States, and learn the history of the men who are engaged
in active and profitable business, and are thriving in the world,
and my word for it, you will find the far greater part began in
life with nothing, and have had no resources whatever but their
own head and hands. And in no city is this fact more strikingly
verified than in Boston. On the other hand, if you make a list
of those who fail in business from year to year, and learn their
history, you will find that a very large proportion of them relied
on inheritances, credit, or some kind of foreign aid in early
life; --- and not a few begun very young.
There is no doctrine in this volume, which will be more unpopular
with it readers, than this. Not a few will, I fear, utterly disbelieve
it. They look at the exterior appearance of some young friend,
a little older than themselves, who has been lifted into business
and gone on a year or two, and all appears fair and encouraging.
They long to imitate him. Point them to a dozen others who have
gone on only a little farther, and have made shipwreck, and it
weighs nothing or next to nothing with them. They suspect mismanagement,
(which doubtless sometimes exists) and think they shall act more
wisely.
In almost every considerable shop in this country may be found
young men who have nearly served out their time as apprentices,
or perhaps have gone a little farther, even, and worked a year
or two as journeymen. They have been industrious and frugal, and
have saved a few hundred dollars. This, on the known principles
of human nature, has created a strong desire to make additions;
and the desire has increased in a greater ratio than the sum.
They are good workmen, perhaps, or if not, they generally think
so; and those who have the least merit, generally have the most
confidence in themselves. But if there be one who has merit, there
is usually in the neighborhood some hawk-eyed money dealer, who
knows that he cannot better invest his funds than in the hands
of active young men. This man will search him out, and offer to
set him up in business; and his friends, pleased to have him noticed,
give security for payment. Thus flattered, he commonly begins;
and after long patience and perseverance, he may, by chance, succeed.
But a much greater number are unsuccessful, and a few drown their
cares and perplexities in the poisoned bowl, or in debauchery;
-- perhaps both -- thus destroying their minds and souls; or,
it may be, abruptly putting an end to their own existence.
Young men are apt to reason thus with themselves. 'I am now arrived
at an age when others have commenced business and succeeded. It
is true I may not succeed; but I know of no reason why my prospects
are not as good as those of A, B, and C, to say the least. I am
certainly as good a workman, and know as well how to manage, and
attend to my own concerns, without intermeddling with those of
others. It is true my friends advise me to work as a journeyman
a few years longer; but it is a hard way of living. Besides, what
shall I learn all this while, that I do not already know? They
say i shall be improving in the practical part of my business,
if not in the theory of it. But shall I not improve while I work
for myself? Suppose I make blunders. Have not others done the
same? If I fall, I must get up again. Perhaps it will teach me
not to stumble again. The fact is, old people never think the
young know or can do any thing till they are forty years old.
I am determined to make an effort. A good opportunity offers,
and such a one may never again occur. I am confident I shall succeed.'
How often have I heard this train of reasoning pursued! But if
it were correct, how happens it that those facts exist which have
just been mentioned? More than this; why do almost all men assert
gratuitously after they have spent twenty years in their avocation,
that although they thought themselves wise when they began their
profession, they were exceedingly ignorant? Who ever met with
a man that did not feel this ignorance more sensibly after twenty
years of experience, than when he first commenced?
This self flattery and self confidence -- this ambition to be
men of business and begin to figure in the world, -- is not confined
to any particular occupation or profession of men, but is found
in all. Nor it is confined to those who object in life is pecuniary
emolument. It is perhaps equally common among those who seek their
happiness in ameliorating the condition of mankind by legislating
for them, settling their quarrels, soothing their passions, or
curing the maladies of their souls and bodies.
Perhaps the evil is not more glaring in any class of the community
than in the medical profession. There is a strong temptation to
this, in the facility with which licences and diplomas may be
obtained. Any young man who has common sense, if he can read and
write tolerably, may in some of the States, become a knight of
the lancet in three years, and follow another employment