of orders he has from all parts of the country, nor how beautifully he
gets up everything. But I must tell you," proceeded the sensitive little
thing, with more cheerfulness, for I had succeeded in my design of
cheering her up a little--"Mr. Zousky--Henry, as we always call him, has
been engraving the head of one of our friends at home for a literary
affair--some biographical book, or something of that sort, and he came
up to show me one of the 'first impressions,' as I think he calls them,
and to bring a message from his sister, last evening--wishing me to
'_criticise_,' he told me, as he had nothing but rather an indifferent
daguerreotype to copy from. It was just before tea that he
called--because he is busy all day, I suppose, and perhaps, he thought
he should be sure of finding me, then. Indeed, he said something about
fearing to intrude later, when there might be other visitors--he is the
most sensitive and unobtrusive being! Well, just as we were having a
nice little chat about old times at D----, cousin Charles came home and
came into the parlor. Of course, he knows Henry very well, for he has
seen him often and often at our house, when he used to be there in
vacations with my brothers; and, indeed, once before Henry came here to
live, was one of a party of us, who went to his little studio, to see
his self-taught paintings and sketches. When he entered the room, I
said, 'cousin Charles, our friend Mr. Zousky does not need an
introduction to you, I am sure.' I cannot describe his manner. I did not
so much mind its being cold and indifferent, but it was not that of _an
equal_--of one gentleman to another, and without sitting down, even for
a moment, he walked back to the dining-room, and I heard him ask the
servant whether tea was ready. Henry rose in a moment, and took my hand
to say good-bye--oh, uncle, I cannot tell you how hurt I was! His voice
was as low and gentle as ever, but his face betrayed him! I know he
noticed cousin Charles' manner. I was determined that he should not go
away so; so I didn't get up, but drew him to a seat by me on the sofa,
and said that he must not go yet, unless he had an engagement, for that
I had not half done telling him what I wished, and rattled on, hardly
knowing what I _did_ say, for I was so grieved and mortified. He said he
would come again, as it was my tea-time, but I insisted that my tea was
of no consequence, and that I much preferred talking to a friend--all
the while hoping that either cousin Maria or cousin Charles would come
and invite him to take tea. Presently I heard cousin Maria come down,
and then the glass doors were closed between the rooms, and I knew they
were at tea. Why, uncle Hal, papa would no more have done such a thing
in _his_ house, than he would have robbed some one! What! wound the
feelings of any one for fear of not being '_genteel!_' that's the word,
I suppose--I hear cousin Maria use it very often! We were always taught
by dear mamma, while she lived, to be particularly polite and attentive
to those who might not be as happy or prosperous as ourselves. She used
to say that fashionable and distinguished people were the least likely
to observe those things, but that the sensitive and self-distrustful
were apt to be almost morbidly alive to every indication of neglect.
'Never brush rudely by the human sensitive plant, my dears,' she used to
say, 'lest you should bruise the tender leaves; and never forget that it
most needs the _sunshine of smiles_!' Dear mamma! she used to be so
polite to Henry--not _patronizing_, but so friendly, so
considerate--always she put him at ease when there was other company at
our house (though he never came in when he knew there were other
visitors), and she used to do so many kind things to assist his first
efforts in his art! I only hope he understood that _I_ have no rights
here. I am sure I _feel_ that I have not! But I would rather be treated
a hundred times over again as I was last night, myself, than to have
Henry's feelings wounded; still, I must say that I should not think,
because she happened to be detained past the exact tea-hour, of sending
away the tea-things and keeping cold slops in a pitcher for any guest in
_my_ house, if I had one"----
"Hush, Blanche! I never heard you talk so indiscreetly before!"
"Well, I don't care! Papa _made_ me come here to stay, because he said
they had visited us, and came out to Bel's wedding, and all; but I do so
wish I was at the St. Nicholas with you and the Clarks, uncle, dear!
Cousin Charles ain't like himself since he married his fashionable New
York wife; even when he comes to pa's he isn't, though _there_ he throws
off his cold, ceremonious manner somewhat. But I really feel as if I was
in a straight-jacket here!"
"Why, Blanche, what's the trouble? I am sure everything is very elegant
and fashionable here!"
"Yes, too elegant and fashionable for poor little me! I am not used to
that, and don't care for it. I'd rather have a little more friendliness
and sociability than all the splendor. I am constantly reminded of my
utter insignificance; and you know, uncle, poor Blanche is spoiled, as
you often say, and not used to being reduced to a mere nonentity!"
With this the silly child actually began to cry, and when I tried to
soothe her, only sobbed out, in broken words: "I wouldn't be such a
goose as to mind it, if Henry Zousky had not been treated so so,
so--_so--fash-ion-a-bly_!"
Looking over some letters from a sprightly correspondent of mine, the
other day, I laid aside one from which I make the following extract, as
apposite to my subject:
"You asked me to give you some account of the social position, etc., and
an idea of the husband of your former favorite, M---- S----. 'What is
Dr. J---- like?' you inquire:--Like nothing in heaven above, or in the
earth beneath, I answer; and, therefore, he might be worshipped without
a violation of the injunction of the Decalogue! How such a vivacious
creature as M---- S---- came to tie herself for life to such a mule,
passes my powers of solution. Dr. J---- is very accomplished in his
profession, for a young man, I hear, and much respected for his
professional capacity--but socially he is--_nothing!_--the merest cipher
conceivable! A man may be _very quiet_ at home, now-a-days, and yet pass
muster; but there are times when he _must act_, as it seems to me; but
M----'s husband seems to be a _man of one idea_, and that never,
seemingly, suggests the duties of host. But you shall judge for
yourself.--While I was in A----, we were all invited there one evening,
to meet a bride, an old friend of M----'s, stopping in town on her
marriage tour. M---- said it was too early in the season for a large
party, and that we were expected quite _en famille_; but it was, in
reality, quite an occasion, nevertheless, as the bride and her party
were fashionable Bostonians. I happened to be near the hostess, when
_the_ guests of the evening entered. She received them with her usual
_Frenchy_ ease and playfulness of manner, and it seemed that the
gentleman was an old friend of hers, but did not know her husband. He
expressed the hope that Dr. J----'s professional duties would not
deprive them of his society the whole evening, as he much desired the
pleasure of his acquaintance. I saw, by the heightening of her color,
that M----, woman of the world though she be, felt the unintended
sarcasm of this polite language; for Dr. J. was calmly ensconced in the
deep recess of a large _fauteuil_ in the corner of the fire-place,
apparently enjoying the glowing coal-fire that always adds its cheerful
influence to the elegant belongings of M----'s splendid drawing-room.
Throughout the entire evening our effigy of a host kept his post, where
we found him on entering. People went to him, chatted a while, and moved
away; we danced, refreshments were served, wine was quaffed,
'All went merry as a marriage bell;'
M---- glided about from group to group, with an appropriate word, or
courteous attention for each one, and, in addition to the flowers that
adorned the rooms, presented the bride of her old friend with an
exquisite bouquet, saying, in her pretty way, that she would have been
delighted to receive her in a bower of roses, when she learned from Mr.
---- how much she liked flowers, but that Flora was in a pet with her
since she had given up her old conservatory at her father's. As the
evening waned, I observed her weariness, despite the hospitable smile;
and well she might be! Several times she slipped away to her babe; once,
when I stood near her, she started slightly: 'I thought I heard a
_nursery-cry_,' she whispered to me, 'my little boy is not well
to-night;' and I missed her soon after. When I went away, I, of course,
sought the master of the house to say good-night. He half rose, with a
half smile, in recognition of my adieu, and re-settled himself,
apparently wholly unconscious of any possible occasion for further
effort! But the climax, in true epic style, was reserved for the
_finale_. It was a frightfully stormy night, and when we came down to
the street door to go away, there stood M----, in her thin dress, the
cold wind and sleet-rain rushing in when the door was opened, enough to
carry away her fairy figure, _seeing off her friend and his bride_!"
* * * * *
"My dear Miss C----," exclaimed a gentleman after listening to the
complaint of a lady who had just been charging the lords of creation
with the habitual discourtesy of retaining their hats when speaking to
ladies, in stores and shops, as well as in public halls and even in the
drawing-room; "My dear Miss C----, don't you know that 'Young America'
_always wears his hat and boots whenever he can_?"
"Does he _sleep in them_?" inquired the lady.
"Well, my dears," I overheard a high-bred and exceedingly handsome man
inquiring of two lovely English girls, on board a steamer the other day,
"how did you succeed in your efforts to dine to-day? I will not again
permit you to be separated from your aunt and me, if we find the table
ever so crowded."
"But we had Charley, you know, sir," returned one of the fair
interlocutors, with a smile worthy of Hebe herself.
"True, but Charley is only a child; and boys as well as women fare ill
at public tables in this 'land of liberty and equality,' unless aided by
some powerful assistant!"
"I thought we had found such a champion to-day," exclaimed the other
lady, "in the person who sat next me at dinner. His hands were so nice
that I should not have objected in the least to his offering me such
dishes as were within his reach, especially as there seemed to be no
servant to attend us, and we really sat half through the first course
without bread or water. Having nothing else to do, for some time, I
quietly amused myself with observing my courteous neighbor. So wholly
absorbed did he seem in his own contemplations, so utterly oblivious of
everything around him, except the contents of his heaped-up plate, that
I soon became convinced that I had the honor to be in close proximity to
a philosopher, at least, and probably to some fixed star in the realms
of science!"
"Oh, Clare! I am so sorry to tell you, but I learned afterwards,
accidentally, that your profound-looking neighbor is--_a dentist_!"
"And, therefore, accustomed only to the _most painful associations with
the mouths of others_!" chimed in the aristocrat, laughing in chorus:
"Well, as our shrewd, sensible friend, the daughter of the Siddons, used
to say, after her return from America, 'if the Americans profess to be
all _equal_, they should be _equally well bred_!'"
With a repetition of this doubly sarcastic apothegm, my dear friends,
for the present,
Adieu!
HARRY LUNETTES.
LETTER VII.
HEALTH, THE TOILET, ETC.
MY DEAR NEPHEWS:
Since no man can fulfill his destiny as an actively-useful member of
society without _Health_, perhaps a few practical suggestions on this
important subject may not be inconsistent with our present purpose.
The only reliable foundation upon which to base the hope of securing
permanent possession of this greatest of earthly blessings, is the early
acquisition of _Habits of Temperance_.
In a proper sense of the word, Temperance is an all-inclusive term--it
does not mean abstaining from strong drink, only, nor from over-eating,
nor from any one form of self-indulgence or dissipation; but it requires
_moderation in all things_, for its full illustration.
It was this apprehension of the term that was truthfully exhibited in
the long, useful, consistent life of our distinguished countryman, John
Quincy Adams. Habits formed in boyhood, in strict accordance with this
principle, and adhered to in every varying phase of circumstance
throughout his prolonged existence, were the proximate cause of his
successful and admirable career. And what a career! How triumphantly
successful, how worthy of admiration! More than half a century did he
serve his country, at home and abroad, dying at last, with his armor
on,--a watchman, faithful, even unto death, upon the ramparts of the
Citadel, where Justice, Truth, and Freedom have found a last asylum.
Think you that the intellectual and moral purposes of his being could
have been borne out by the most resolute exercise of will, but for the
judicious training of the _physique_? Or could the higher attributes of
his nature have been developed, indeed, in conjunction with a body
'cabined, cribbed and confined' by the enervating influence of youthful
self-indulgence? Born on--
"Stern New-England's rocky shore,"
no misnamed luxury shrouded his frame from the discipline of that
Teacher, "around whose steps the mountain breezes blow, and from whose
countenance all the virtues gather strength." You are, doubtless, all
familiar with Mr. Adams' habits of early rising, bathing, etc. The
latter, even, he maintained until within two years of his death, bathing
in an open stream each morning, if his locality permitted the enjoyment,
at a very early hour. I have his own authority for the fact that he,
during the different periods of his public sojourn abroad, laved his
vigorous frame in almost every river of Europe! Franklin, too, ascribed
his triumph over the obstacles that obstructed his early path to a
strict adherence to the rules of Temperance. And so, indeed, with most
of the truly great men whose names illumine the pages of our country's
history:--I might multiply examples almost _ad infinitum_, but your own
reading will enable you to endorse the correctness of my assertion.
Since we have, incidentally, alluded to the _Bath_, in connection with
the example of Mr. Adams, let us commence the consideration of personal
habits, with this agreeable and essential accessory of Health.
Though authorities may differ respecting some minor details with regard
to bathing, I believe medical testimony all goes to sanction its
adoption by all persons, in some one of its modifications.
Constitutional peculiarities should always be consulted in the
establishment of individual rules,--hence no general directions can be
made applicable to all persons. The cold bath, though that most
frequently adopted by persons in health, is, no doubt, injurious in some
cases, and careful observation alone can enable each individual to
establish the precise temperature at which his ablutions will be most
beneficial.
But, while the most scrupulous and unvarying regard for cleanliness
should be considered of primary importance, the indiscreet use of the
bath should be avoided with equal care. Bishop Heber, one of the best
and most useful of men, sacrificed himself in the midst of a career of
eminent piety, to an imprudent use of this luxury, arising either from
ignorance or inadvertency. After rising very early to baptize several
native converts recently made in India, the field of his labors, he
returned to his bungalow in a state of exhaustion from excitement and
abstinence, and, without taking any nourishment, threw himself into a
bath, and soon after expired!--No one can safely resort to the bath when
the bodily powers are much weakened, by whatever cause; and though it is
unwise to use it directly after taking a full meal, it should not
immediately precede the chief meal of the day, if that be taken at a
late hour, and after prolonged abstinence and exertion.
The _art of swimming_ early acquired, affords the most agreeable and
beneficial mode of bathing, not to dwell upon its numerous
recommendations in other respects; but when this enjoyment cannot be
secured, nor even the luxury of an immersion bath, luckily for health,
comfort, and propriety, the means of _sponge bathing_ may always be
secured, at least in this country (wherever it has risen above
barbarism), though I must say that frequently during my travels in
England, and even through towns boasting good hotels, I found water and
towels at a high premium, and very difficult of acquisition at that!
Sponging the whole person upon rising, either in cold or tepid water, as
individual experience proves best, with the use of the Turkish towel, or
some similar mode of friction, is one of the best preparations for a day
of useful exertion.
This practice has collateral advantages, inasmuch as it naturally leads
to attention to all the details of the toilet essentially connected with
refinement and health--to proper care of the Hair, Teeth, Nails,
etc.,--in short, to a neat and suitable arrangement of the dress before
leaving one's apartment in the morning. To slippered age belongs the
indulgence of a careless morning toilet; but with the morning of life we
properly associate readiness for action in some pursuit demanding steady
and prolonged exertion, early begun, and with every faculty and
attribute in full exercise.
Fashion sanctions so many varying modes of wearing or not wearing the
_hair_, that no directions can be given in relation to it, except such
as enjoin the avoidance of all fantastic dressing, and the observance of
entire neatness with relation to it. Careful brushing, together with
occasional ablutions, will best preserve this natural ornament; and I
would, also, suggest the use of such _pomades_ only as are most
delicately scented. No gentleman should go about like a walking
perfumer's shop, redolent, not of--
"Sabean odors from the spicy shores
Of Araby the Blest,"
but of spirits of turpentine, musk, etc., 'commixed and commingled' in
'confusion worse confounded' to all persons possessed of a nicety of
nervous organization. All perfumes for the handkerchiefs, or worn about
the person, should be, not only of the most unexceptionable kind, but
used in very moderate quantities. Their profuse use will ill supply the
neglect of the bath, or of the proper care of the teeth and general
toilet.
The _Teeth_ cannot be too carefully attended to by those who value good
looks, as well as health. And nothing tends more towards their
preservation than the habitual use of the brush, before retiring, as
well as in the morning. The use of some simple uninjurious adjunct to
the brush may be well; but pure water and the brush, faithfully applied,
will secure cleanliness--the great preservative of these essential
concomitants of manly beauty. If you use tobacco--(and I fervently hope
none of you who have not the habit will ever allow yourselves to acquire
it!)--but if you are, unfortunately, enslaved by the habit, never omit
to rinse the mouth thoroughly after smoking (I will not admit the
possibility, that any _young man_, in this age of progressive
refinement, is addicted to habitual _chewing_), and never substitute the
use of a strong odor for this proper observance, especially when going
into the society of ladies. Smoke dispellers must yield the palm to the
purifying effects of the unadulterated element, after all.
The utmost nicety in the care of the _Nails_, is an indispensable part
of a gentleman's toilet. They should be kept of a moderate length, as
well as clean and smooth. Avoid all absurd forms, and inconvenient
length, in cutting them, which you will find it easiest to do neatly
while they are softened by washing, and the use of the nail-brush.
Properly fitted boots and shoes, together with frequent bathing, will
best secure _the feet_ from the torturing excrescences by which poor
mortals are so often afflicted. The addition of _salt_ to the foot-bath,
if persevered in, will greatly protect them from the painful effects of
over-walking, etc.
I think that under the head of Dress, in one of my earliest letters, I
expressed my opinion regarding the essentials of refinement and comfort
as connected with this branch of the toilet. I will only say, in this
connection, that a liberal supply of linen, hosiery, etc., should be
regarded as of more importance than outside display, and that the most
enlightened economy suggests the employment of the best materials, the
most skillful manufacturers, and the unrestrained use of these "aids and
appliances" of gentleman-like propriety, comfort, and health.
The best and surest mode of securing ample and certain leisure for
needful attention to the minutiae of the toilet is _Early Rising_, a
habit that, in addition to the healthful influence it exerts upon the
physique, collaterally, promotes the minor moralities of life in a
wonderful degree, and really is one of the fundamentals of success in
whatever pursuit you may be engaged. Here, again, permit me to refer you
to the examples of the truly great men of history--those of our own land
will suffice--Washington, Franklin, Adams, and, though inconsistent with
his habits in some other respects, Webster. Of the latter, it is well
known, that he did not trim the midnight lamp for purposes of
professional investigation or mental labor of any kind, but rose early
to such tasks, with body and mind invigorated for ready and successful
exertion. I have seen few things from his powerful pen, more pleasingly
written than his _Eulogy upon Morning_, as it may properly be called,
though I don't know that to be the title of an article written by him in
favor of our present theme, in which erudition and pure taste contend
for supremacy with convincing argument.
But to secure the full benefit of _early rising_, my young friends, you
must also, establish the habit of _retiring early_ and regularly. No one
dogma of medical science, perhaps, is more fully borne out by universal
experience than this, that "two hours' sleep before midnight is worth
all obtained afterwards." To seek repose before the system is too far
over-taxed for quiet, refreshing rest, and before the brain has been
aroused from the quiescence natural to the evening hours, into renewed
and unhealthy action, is most consistent with the laws of health. And,
depend upon it, though the elasticity of youthful constitutions may, for
a time, resist the pernicious effects of a violation of these laws, the
hour will assuredly come, sooner or later, to all, when the _lex
talionis_ will be felt in resistless power. Fashion and Nature are sadly
at war on this point, as I am fully aware; but the edicts of the one are
immutable, those of the other are proverbially fickle.
Students, especially, should regard obedience to the wiser of the two
as imperative. The mental powers, as well as the physical, demand
this--the "_mind's eye_" as well as the organs of outward vision, will
be found, by experiment, to possess the clearer and quicker discernment
during those hours when, throughout the domains of Nature, all is
activity, healthfulness and visible beauty. And no peculiarity of
circumstance or inclination will ever make that healthful which is
_unnatural_. Hence the wisdom of _establishing habits_ consistent with
health, while no obstacle exists to their easy acquisition. There is an
experiment on record made by two generals, each at the head of an army
on march, in warm weather, over the same route. The one led on his
troops by day, the other chose the cooler hours for advancing, and
reposed while the sun was abroad. In all other respects, their
arrangements were similar. At the end of ten or twelve days, the result
convincingly proved that exertion even under mid-summer heat is most
healthfully made while the stimulus of solar light sustains the system,
and that sleep is most refreshing and beneficial in all respects when
sought while the hush and obscurity of the outer world assist repose.
But if, as the nursery doggerel wisely declares,
"Early to bed and early to rise,
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,"
there must be united with this rational habit, others each equally
important to the full advantage to be derived from all combined.
Among these, _Exercise_ holds a prominent rank. As with the bath, this
is most effectually employed for health before the system is exhausted
by mental labor.
Among the numerous modes of exercise, none is so completely at command
at all times and under all circumstances, as _walking_. But the full
benefit of this exercise, is not often enjoyed by the inhabitants of
cities, by reason of the impure air that is almost necessarily inhaled
in connection with it. Still, it is not impossible to obviate this
difficulty by a little pains. The _early riser_ and the _rapid
pedestrian_ may in general, easily secure time to seek daily one of the
few and limited breathing-places that, though in this regard we are
vastly inferior to Europeans in taste and good sense, even our American
cities supply, either, like what they indeed are, _lungs_, in the very
centre of activity, or at no unapproachable distance from it. Do not
forget that vegetation, while it sends forth noxious influences _at
night_, exales oxygen and other needful food for vitality, _in the
morning_, especially; nor that an erect carriage, which alone gives
unobstructed play to the organs of respiration and digestion, is
requisite, together with considerable activity of movement, to secure
the legitimate results of walking.
Students, and others whose occupations are of a sedentary character,
sometimes adopt the practice of taking a long walk periodically. This
is, no doubt, promotive of health, provided it is not at first carried
to an extreme. All such habits should be gradually formed, and their
formation commenced and pursued with due respect for physiological
rules. Mr. Combe, the distinguished phrenologist--in his "Constitution
of Man," I think, relates an instance of a young person, in infirm
health and unaccustomed to such exertion, who undertook a walk of twenty
miles, to be accomplished without interruption. The first seven or eight
miles were achieved with ease and pleasure to the pedestrian, but
thenceforth discomfort and final exhaustion should have been a
sufficient warning to the tyro to desist from his self-appointed task. A
severe illness was the consequence and punishment of his ignorant
violation of physiological laws.
By the way, I cannot too strongly recommend to your careful perusal the
various works of Dr. Andrew Combe, long the physician of the amiable
King of Belgium, in relation to that and kindred subjects. His
"Physiology as applied to Mental Health," is replete with practical
suggestions and advice of the most instructive and important nature, as
are also his "Dietetics," etc.