not only as affording a ready resource against _ennui_, or idleness,
everywhere and under all circumstances, but as necessarily involving the
acquisition of knowledge, even when of the most desultory character. It
is wonderful how much general information may be gleaned by this
practice of reading _something_ whenever one has a few spare grains of
the "_gold-dust of Time_,"--minutes. I once found a remarkably
well-informed woman of my acquaintance waiting to make breakfast for her
husband and me, with a little old _dictionary_ open in her hand. "For
what word are you looking, so early?" I inquired, as I discovered the
character of the volume she held. "For no one in particular," returned
she, "but one can always add to one's stores from any book, were it
only in the matter of _spelling_." But the true way, of course, to
derive most advantage from this enjoyment is to _systematize_ in
relation to it, reading well-selected books with care and attention
sufficient to enable us permanently to add the information they contain
to our previous mental possessions.
You will only need to be reminded how much ease and elegance in _Reading
aloud_ depend upon _habit_.
Without the _Habit of Industry_, good resolutions, the most sincere
desire for self-improvement, and the most desirable natural gifts, will
be of comparatively little avail for the practical purposes of
existence. This unpretending attribute, together with _System_ and
_Regularity_, has achieved more for the good of the race, than all the
erratic efforts of genius combinedly.
"Don't run about," says a sensible writer, "and tell your acquaintances
you have been unfortunate; people do not like to have unfortunate men
for acquaintances. Add to a vigorous determination, a cheerful spirit;
if reverses come, bear them like a philosopher, and get rid of them as
soon as you can." _Cheerfulness_ and _Contentment_, like every other
mental quality, may be cultivated until they materially assist us in
enduring
"The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,"
and early attention to the attainment of these mental habits is a matter
of both personal and relative duty.
Cherish _self-respect_ as, next to a firm religious faith, the best
safeguard to respectability and peace of mind. Entirely consistent
with--indeed, in a degree, productive of the most careful consideration
of the rights of others, the legitimate development of this quality will
tend to preserve you from unwise confidences, from injudicious
intimacies, and from gross indulgences and unworthy pursuits. This will
sustain you in the manly acknowledgment of _poverty_, if that shall
chance to be your lot, when pride and principle contend for the mastery
in practical matters, and enable you to realize fully, that
"To bear, is to conquer our fate!"
This will strengthen you to the endurance of that which nothing but
absolute insignificance can escape--_calumny_. It will preserve you
alike from an undue eagerness in defending yourself from unjust
aspersion, and from a servile fear of "the world's dread laugh," from
meriting and from resenting scandal, and convince you that its most
effectual contradiction consists in a _virtuous life_. By listening to
the dictates of this powerful _coadjutor of conscience_, you will
believe with the poet, that
"Honor and Fame from no _condition_ rise,"
and thus, with straightforward and unvarying purpose, illustrate your
adoption of the motto,
"_Act well your part_, there all the honor lies!"
While I would earnestly counsel you to avoid that constant
_self-consciousness_ which is nearly allied to vanity and egotism, if
not identical with them, you will find the habitual practice of
_self-examination_ greatly conducive to improvement. A calm, impartial
analysis of words and actions, tracing each to their several motives,
must tend to assist us to _know ourselves_, which an ancient
philosopher, you may remember, pronounced the highest human attainment.
Arraign yourself, without the advantage of _special pleading_, to borrow
a legal phrase, at the bar of conscience, regarding this arbiter as the
voice of Divinity enshrined within us, whenever assailed by doubts
respecting any course of conduct you have adopted, or propose to adopt,
and where you are thus taught to draw the line of demarcation between
right and wrong,
"Let that aye be your border."
In this connection permit me to recommend the regular study of the
_Bible_, and a systematic attendance upon public worship on the Sabbath.
Do not read this most wonderful of books as _a task_, nor yet permit the
trammels of early associations, hereditary prejudice, or blind
superstition, to interfere with your search for the truths contained in
its pages. Try to read the Scriptures as you would any other book, with
the aid of such collateral information as you may be able to obtain
respecting the origin of the several, and wholly, distinct productions
of which it is composed, the authors of each, the purposes for which
they were composed, and, in short, possess yourself of every available
means of giving reality, simplicity, and truthfulness to your
investigations. Study the _Life of Christ_, as written by the personal
friends who were most constantly and intimately associated with him.
Ponder upon his familiar sayings, remembered, and recorded in their
simple memoranda, by the unlettered men who most frequently listened to
them, compare the acts of Christ with his doctrines as a teacher, and
judge for yourselves whether history, ancient or modern, has any
parallel for the _Perfection of the Model_ thus exhibited to the human
race. Decide whether he was not the only earthly being who "never did an
injury, never resented one done to him, never uttered an untruth, never
practised a deception, and never lost an opportunity of doing good."
Having determined this point in your own minds, adopt this glorious
pattern for imitation, and adhere to it, until you find a truer and
better model. We have nothing to do in judging of this matter with the
imperfect illustrations afforded by the lives of professed imitators of
Christ of the perfectibility to which his teachings tend. Why look to
indifferent copies, when the great original is ever before us! Why seek
in the frailty and fallibility of human nature a justification of
personal distrust and indifference?
No _gentleman_--to come to practicalities again--will indulge in
ridiculing what intelligent, enlightened persons receive as truth, on
any point, much less upon this. Nor will a well-bred man permit himself
the habit of being _late at church_--were it only that those who stand
in a _servile relation to others_, are often deprived of time for
suitable preliminaries of the toilet, etc., he will carefully avoid this
vulgarity.
The tendency to _materialism_, so strongly characterizing the age in
which we live, produces, among its pernicious collateral effects, a
disposition to reduce "Heaven's last, best gift to man" to the same
practical standard by which we judge of all matters of the outer
life,--of _each other_ especially. Well might Burke deplore the
departure of the Age of Chivalry! But not even the prophetic eye of
genius could discern the degeneracy that was to increase so rapidly,
from the day in which he wrote, to this. As a mere matter of personal
gratification, I would cherish the inclination to _idealize_ in regard
to the fairer part of creation! There is enough that is stern, hard,
baldly utilitarian, in life; we have no need to rob this "one fair
spirit" of every poetic attribute, by system! Few habits have so much
the effect to elevate us above the clods we tread ploddingly over in the
dreary highway of mortal existence, as that of investing woman with the
purest, highest attributes of our common nature, and bearing ourselves
towards her in accordance with these elevated sentiments. And when
compelled, in individual instances, to set aside these cherished
impressions, let nothing induce us to forget that _passive, silent
forbearance_ is our only resource. True manhood can never become the
active antagonist of _defencelessness_.
I am almost ashamed to remind you of the gross impropriety of speaking
loosely and loudly of ladies of your acquaintance in the hearing of
strangers, of desecrating their names by mouthing them in bar-rooms and
similar public places, scribbling them upon windows, recording them,
without their permission, in the registers kept at places visited from
curiosity, etc., etc. _You have no moral right to take such liberties in
this respect, as you would not tolerate in the relation of brother, son,
or husband._
_Think_, then, and _speak_, ever, with due reverence of those guardian
angels,
"Into whose hands from first to last,
This world with all its destinies,
Devotedly by Heaven seems cast!"
If you determine to conform yourselves, as far as in you lies, to the
model presented for your imitation by Him who said--"Be ye, therefore,
perfect, even as I am perfect," you will not disregard the cultivation
of a _ready sympathy_ with the sufferings and trials of your fellow
beings. In place of adopting a system that will not only steel your
heart, but infuse into your whole nature distrust and suspicion, you
will, like Him who went about doing good, quickly discern suffering, in
whatever form it presents itself, and minister, at least, the balm of a
kind word, when naught else may be offered. You will thus learn not only
to pity the erring, but, perchance, sometimes to ask yourselves in
profound humility--"_who hath made me to differ_?"
Young men sometimes fall into the impression that a mocking
insensibility to human woe is manly--something grand and distinguished.
So they turn with lofty scorn from a starving child, make the
embarrassment and distress of a poor mother with a wailing infant the
subject of audible mirth in a rail-car, or stage-coach, ridicule the
peevishness of illness, the tears of wounded sensibility, or the
confessions of the penitent! Now, it seems to me, that all this is
super-human in its sublime elevation! My small knowledge of the history
of the greatly good, affords no parallels for the adoption of such a
creed. I have read of a Howard who terminated a life devoted to the
benefit of his race, in a noisome dungeon, where he sought to minister
to human suffering; of a Fenelon, and a Cheverus whose _Catholic_ spirit
broke the thralling restrains of sectarianism, in favor of general
humanity; of the graceful chivalry and large benevolence of Sir Walter
Raleigh and Sir Philip Sidney; of triumphant soldiers who bound up the
wounds and preserved the lives of a fallen foe; of a Wilberforce, a
Pease, and a Father Mathew; of Leigh Richmond, Reginald Heber, and
Robert Hall; of the parable of the good Samaritan, and of its Divine
Author--and I believe the mass of mankind agree with me in, at least, an
abstract admiration for the characters of each! And though no great
achievements in the cause of Philanthropy may be in our power, though no
mighty deeds may embalm our memories amid the imperishable records of
Time, let us not overlook those small acts of kindness, those trifling
proofs of sympathy, which all have at command. A look, a word, a
smile--what talismanic power do even these sometimes possess! Remember,
then, that,
"----Heaven decrees
To all the _gift of ministering to ease_!"
In close association with the wish to minister to the happiness of
others, as far as in us lies, is that of avoiding every self-indulgence
that may interfere with the comfort or the rights of others. Hence the
cultivation of _good-humor_, and of habits of _neatness_, _order_, and
_regularity_. Prompted by this rule, we will not _smoke_ in the streets,
in rail-cars, on the decks of steamers, at the entrance of concert and
lecture rooms, or in parlors frequented by ladies. We will not even
forget that neglect of _matters of the toilet_, in the nicest details,
may render us unpleasant companions for those accustomed to
fastidiousness upon these points.
To the importance of well-regulated habits of Exercise, Temperance, and
Relaxation, I have already called your attention in a previous Letter.
Nothing tends more effectually to the production of genuine
independence, than personal _Economy_. No habit will more fully enable
you to be generous as well as just, and to gratify your better impulses
and more refined tastes, than the exercise of this unostentatious art.
Remember that _meanness_ is not economy, any more than it is integrity.
To be wisely economical requires the exercise of the reflective
faculties united with practical experience, self-denial, and moral
dignity. Rightly viewed, there is nothing in it degrading to the noblest
nature.
_Punctuality_ both in pleasure and in business engagements, is alike due
to others, and essential to personal convenience. You will, perhaps,
have observed that this was one of the distinguishing traits of
Washington.
Somebody says--"Ceremony is the Paradise of Fools." The same may be said
with equal truth, of _system_. To be truly _free_, one should not be the
slave of any one rule, nor of many combined. _System_, like other
agencies, if judiciously regulated, materially aids the establishment of
good habits generally, and thus places us beyond the dominion of
"_Circumstance, that unspiritual god._"
Sir Joshua Reynolds used to remark that "Nothing is denied to
well-directed effort." Let _Perseverance_ then, be united with
_Excelsior_ in your practical creed.
I think I have made some allusion to the _Art of Conversation_. Let me
"make assurance doubly sure," by the emphatic recommendation of
_practice_ in this elegant accomplishment. All mental acquisitions are
the better secured by the habit of _putting ideas into words_. By this
process, thought becomes clearer, more _tangible_, so to speak, and new
ideas are actually engendered, while we are giving expression to those
previously in our possession.
In addition to the individual advantage accruing from this excellent
mode of training yourselves for easy and effective _extemporaneous
public speaking_, it should not be overlooked, as affording the means of
conferring both pleasure and benefit upon others. Taciturnity and
self-engrossment, you may remark, are not the prominent characteristics
of the favorites of society.
Nor does the practice of ready speaking necessarily interfere with
habits of _Reflection_ and _Observation_. On the contrary, the mental
activity thus promoted, naturally leads to the accumulation of
intellectual material by every available means. Discrimination in
judging of character, and true _knowledge of the world_, without which
all abstract knowledge is comparatively of little avail, can never be
attained except through the persevering exercise of these powers.
Shall I venture to remind you, my dear young friends, that the
manifestation of _respect for misfortune, suffering, and age_, may
become one of your attributes by the force of habit strengthening good
impulses.
Will you think me deficient in utilitarianism if I recommend to you a
cultivation of the _power to discern the Beautiful_, as a perpetual
source of pure and exalted enjoyment? Hard, grinding, soul-trammelling,
is the dominion of real life; will we be less worthy of our immortal
destinies, that we cherish an _inner sense_, by which we readily
perceive moral beauty, shining as a ray from the very altar of Divinity,
or the tokens of the presence of that Divinity afforded by the wonders
of the natural world? Let us not be mere beasts of burden, so laden with
the cares, the anxieties, or even the duties of life, as to have no eye
for the unobtrusive, but often fragrant and lovely flowers, that bloom
along the most neglected of our daily paths.
Speaking of the Beautiful, reminds me that ours is the only civilized
land where the aesthetical perceptions of the people are not a sufficient
safeguard to the preservation of _Works of Art_, in their humblest as
well as most magnificent exhibitions. Nothing short of the brutalizing
influence of a Reign of Terror will tempt a Parisian populace to the
desecration of these expressions of refinement, taste, and beauty; while
among us, not even an ornamental paling, inclosing a private residence,
or the colonnade of a public edifice, escapes staring tokens of the
presence of this gothic barbarism in our midst.
You will scarcely need to be cautioned against confounding mere
_curiosity_ with a liberal and enlightened observation of life and
manners. All those indications of undue curiosity respecting the private
affairs of others, expressed by listening to conversation not intended
for the general ear, watching the _asides_ of society, glancing at
letters addressed to another, or asking direct questions of a personal
nature, are unmistakable proofs of ignorance of the rules of polished
life, though they are not as reprehensible as _evil-speaking_, a love
of _scandal_, or the practice of violating either the _confidence_ of
friends or the _sacredness of private conversation_.
Though a vast difference is created in this respect by difference of
temperament, yet no man can hope to acquire the degree of
_self-possession_ that shall fit him for a successful encounter with the
ever-varying emergencies demanding its illustration, without repeated
and re-repeated struggles and discomfitures. But so invaluable is the
treasure, so essential to the legitimate exercise of every faculty of
our being, that defeat should only render more indomitable the "will to
do, the soul to dare," in persevering endeavors to secure its permanent
acquisition.
Let me impress upon you the truth that self-possession is the legitimate
result of a _well-disciplined mind_, and that it is properly expressed
by a _quiet_ and _modest bearing_.
In conclusion, let me earnestly and affectionately assure you that the
formation of right habits, though necessarily attended, for a time, by
failures, difficulties, or discouragements, will eventually prove its
own all-sufficient reward. Habitude of thought, language, appointment,
and manner that shall entitle you to claim
"The good old name of _Gentleman_,"
once yours, and you will be armed, point of proof, against the exacting
capriciousness of fashion, and forever exempted from the tortures often
inflicted upon the sensitive, by the insidious invasions of
self-distrust!
* * * * *
Strolling through the Crystal Palace at London, soon after it was
opened, with a young fellow-countryman, he suddenly broke out
with--"Will you just look at that fellow, colonel?" Turning and
following the direction indicated by his eye (not his finger or
walking-stick, he was too well-bred _to point_!) I discerned, in a
different part of the building, Queen Victoria, accompanied by Prince
Albert and two of the royal children, examining some articles in the
American Department. Very near the stopping-place of this distinguished
party, a representative of the "universal Yankee nation," had stationed
himself--perhaps in a semi-official capacity--upon the apex of some
elevation, with his hat on, and his long legs dangling down in front,
nearly on a level with the heads of passers-by.
We could not hear the words of her Majesty, but it was apparent that she
addressed some inquiry to him of the legs. First ejecting a torrent of
tobacco-juice from his mouth, and rolling away the huge quid that
obstructed his utterance, he deliberately proceeded to give the
explanation desired, retaining not only his position, but his hat, the
while!
Meantime, as soon as the Queen commenced addressing this person, her
Royal Consort removed his hat, and remained uncovered until she again
moved on. I shall not soon forget the face of my companion. Shame and
indignation contended for the mastery on his burning cheek!
"Good G----, Colonel!" he exclaimed, "to think of such a mere brute as
that being regarded as a fair specimen of the advance of civilization
among us! 'Tis enough to make a decent man disclaim his birthright here!
And yet, I have little enough to boast of myself! Only think of my
taking some English gentlemen who were in New-York a month or two ago,
to see our _parks_ (heaven save the mark!) among other objects of
interest in the city! Yesterday, Sir John ----, who was one of the
party, drove about London with me, and took me also to Kensington
Garden, St. James' and Regent's Parks! I don't know what would tempt me
again to undergo the thing! I rather think I am effectually cured,
henceforth and for ever, of any inclination to _boast of anything
whatever, personal or national_!"
* * * * *
"As you are the only 'gentleman of elegant leisure' in the family, at
present, Harry, suppose you take these girls to New York for a week or
two. For my part, it's as much as I can do to provide money for the
expedition," said your uncle William to me, one evening.
"Oh, do, dear uncle Hal!" exclaimed Ida, with great vivacity, sitting
down on a low stool at my feet, and clasping her hands upon my knee, "we
always love dearly to go with you anywhere, you are so good to us."
"Yes!" broke in William junior, "uncle Harry spoils you so completely by
indulgence that I can do nothing with you. You're a most unruly set, at
home and abroad."
A sudden twitch at the end of his cravat effectually demolished the
elegant tie upon which the young gentleman prides himself, as little
Jule, who was close beside him, pretending to get her French lesson, and
had perpetrated the mischief, cried out--"What's the reason, then, that
you always take us all along, when you go out in the woods, and off to
the shore--hey, Mr. Willie?"
"Do be quiet, children," interrupted Ida, reprovingly; "now, uncle dear,
won't you take us? I want some new traps badly."
"What kind of traps?--mouse traps?"
"_Man traps_, to be sure!"
"Well, that's honest, at least, Puss."
"My purposes are more murderous than Ida's," said Cornelia, laughing; "I
want to buy a new _mankiller_, as Willie calls them."
"It's too late in the season for mantillas," remarked Ida, profoundly.
"A fashionable cloak will serve Cornelia's purpose equally well,"
returned her father, quietly.
"And, like the mantle of charity, it will hide a multitude of sins,"
chimed in her brother.
"Your running commentaries are highly edifying, my dear nephew," said I,
and at the same moment a large red rose hit him full on the nose.
It was soon arranged that your fair cousins should accompany me to the
Empire City in a few days, and I, accordingly, sat down at once, and
wrote to the "Metropolitan" for rooms.
"What glorious times mother and I will have," I overheard William
exclaim. "I shall take Jule under my especial protection, and hear her
French lessons regularly."
"No you won't, either," returned that young lady, with great spirit;
"and I wish you'd stop tying my curls together, and mind your own
affairs. No doubt you'll make noise enough to kill ma and me, while
Corne and Dade are gone, drumming on the piano, and spouting your Latin
speech before the drawing-room glass. All I wish is, that uncle Hal
wasn't going away--he never lets you torment me."
As we were entering the dining-room of our hotel, on the day of our
arrival, our friend Governor S---- joined us, and, after shaking hands,
in his usual cordial way, with us all, said, as he courteously took
Cornelia's hand and folded it within his arm, "Will you allow me to
attend you, Miss Lunettes? Colonel, by your leave. Miss Ida, will you
let a lonely old fellow join your party? Where do you sit, Colonel?"
"We have but just arrived," I replied, "but our seats are, of course,
reserved; let me secure a seat for you with us, if possible. Ida, remain
here a moment with Cornelia and Governor S----;" and presently, finding
the proper person, the steward, or whatever the man of dining-room
affairs is called, I arranged with him to seat us together, without
interfering with other parties.