to which he shall devote his energies--and better so, than to possess no
claims to respect except those bestowed by position. As the pursuit of
wealth as an end, rather than a means, is not the noblest of human
purposes, so mere occupation and external belongings do not determine
the real worth of mind or character.
"I am brother to the _Worker_,
And I love his manly look,
As I love a thought of beauty,
Living, star-like, in a book.
I am brother to the humblest,
In the world's red-handed strife,--
Those who wield the sword of labor,
In the battle ranks of life!
* * * * *
* * * * *
Never let the worker falter,
Nor his cause--for hope is strong;
He shall live a monarch glorious
In the people's coming throng.
There's a sound comes from the future,
Like the sound of many lays;
FREEDOM _strikes her harp for toilers_,
Loud as when the thunder plays!"
While on this subject, permit me to call your attention to a matter
which, though of minor importance, is not unworthy of consideration. Men
with but little knowledge of the world are apt to _betray their
occupation by their manner and conversation--to smell of the shop_, as
it is often, somewhat coarsely, expressed. Thus, an _artist_ will talk
habitually of such matters as arrest the peculiar perceptions he has
quickened into acuteness by culture, and even use the technicalities of
language which, though familiar to him, may be, and probably are,
unintelligible to persons of general cultivation only. A _physician_
will sometimes go about with a heavy, ivory-headed cane, and a grand,
pompous look, which may, perchance, be _professional_, but it is not the
less absurd, unless as a means of impressing the vulgar; and he often
falls into the impression that any sacrifice to the Graces, or any
regard for the weaknesses of humanity, when in a sick-room, are entirely
beneath his dignity. _Lawyers_ will use Latin phrases, and legal
technicalities, in the society of ladies, and the _gentlemen of the
black cloth_ not only carry the pulpit into the drawing-room, but permit
themselves to be lionized by devout old women, and sentimental young
ones, into the best seat in an apartment, or a carriage, the tit-bits at
table, and a sum-total of mawkish man-worship. As I have said, all this
savors of _ignorance of the world_, as it does of latent egotism, and
deficient self-respect. Note, therefore, the probable effects--when
unrestrained by self-scrutiny--of _moving in a limited sphere of
action_, and always bear in mind that your individual occupations and
interests, though of great personal importance, are comparatively
insignificant in the consideration of others; that you yourself make,
when viewed from a general stand-point, but _a single unit_ of the great
mass to whom your interests, purposes, and merits, are matters alike of
profound indifference and unquestioning ignorance.
"No man," says Jean Paul, _the only one_, as the Germans call him, "can
live piously or die righteously without a wife;" and one of the most
celebrated observers of human nature among our own countrymen, has
bequeathed us the recorded opinion that an early marriage with an
amiable and virtuous woman is, next to a firm religious faith, the best
safeguard to the happiness and principles of a young man.
In our prosperous land, where the means of living are diversified almost
equally with the necessities of life, it is far less hazardous to assume
the responsibilities arising from early marriage, than in other
countries. Everything is, in a certain sense, precocious here. Extreme
youth is no barrier to independence of effort and position--none to
self-reliance and success. It may be questioned whether the tax thus
prematurely imposed upon the intellect, as well as the physique, does
not, in some degree, tend, not only to eventual mediocrity of power,
but to quickened diminution of the vital energies.
Hence it is, doubtless, well to adopt the _golden mean_ in regard to
every important step in life. And though I would by no means counsel you
not to marry until you have accumulated a fortune, I would strenuously
advise you to possess yourselves of something like a prospective
certainty of maintenance, and of sound knowledge of human nature and of
_yourself_, before so far committing your future happiness.
One prominent cause of the multitude of unhappy unions, I am persuaded,
is the ignorance of their own true characters with which young persons
are so frequently united. Wholly immature in body and mind, when they
commence married life, as they develop, under the influence of time and
circumstance, they awaken to the discovery of an irreconcilable
difference, not only in taste, sentiment, and opinion, but, what is
worse, in principle. This is one extreme. On the contrary, the marriage
of persons of decided character, before habit has rendered it difficult
to mould themselves into conformity with the peculiarities from which
none are exempt, is desirable. The sooner those who are to tread the
path of life side by side, learn the assimilation that shall render the
way smoother and easier to both, the greater will be their share of
earthly contentment; and this will be most readily achieved, no doubt,
while youthful pliancy and adaptability still exist.
Every discriminating, self-informed man, should be the best judge of the
essential requisites for domestic happiness, in his individual case.
Such an one will not need to be reminded that all abstract or
generally-applicable rules must needs be modified, in many instances,
for personal usefulness. But no one will question the desirableness of
_health_, _good temper_, and _education_, in the companion of domestic
life.
By education, I do not mean an acquaintance with all, or even with any
one, of what are termed _accomplishments_. A woman may be well-informed,
and self-disciplined, to a degree that will render her an admirable wife
for a man of sense, without being able to speak any but her vernacular
tongue, or play upon any instrument, save that _harp of a thousand
strings--the Human Heart_!
Do not understand me as undervaluing the graceful embellishments of
social and domestic life, as presented by the lovelier part of creation.
I wish only to express, in my plain, blunt way, the conviction that the
most elegant and varied accomplishments are a very poor equivalent for
_poverty of the head and heart_, in the woman who is to become the
friend and counsellor to whom you will look for enduring, discriminating
affection and sympathy, as well when the trials, the cares, and the
sorrows of mortal existence shall lower heavily over you, as while you
mutually dance along amid the flowers and the sunshine of youth.
A career of fashionable idleness, irresponsibility, and dissipation, is
not a desirable prelude to the systematic routine of quiet duties
essential to the home-happiness of a man of moderate resources and
retired habits. It may be questioned whether a woman who has been long
accustomed to the adulation and the excitement of a crowd, will be
content to find enjoyment, sufficient and enduring, in the simple
pleasures which alone will be at her command, thus circumstanced.
But, while even the incentives afforded by all the affection of which
such an ephemeral being is capable, will render conformity to this new
position difficult of attainment, she who is early accustomed to look
thoughtfully upon life as beautiful and bright indeed, but as involving
serious responsibilities and solemn obligations, will bring to a union
with one of similar perceptions and principles, a sense of right and
duty, which, if strengthened by a commingling of hearts, will make it no
discouraging task to her to _begin with her husband where he begins_.
Such an one will be content to tread on at an even pace beside him,
through the roughness that may beset his progress, cheerfully
encountering obstacles, resolute to conquer or endure, as the case may
be; and ever fully imbued with that patient, hopeful, loving spirit,
whose motto is "bear one another's burdens."
You will think it more consistent with the caution of an old man, than
the ardor natural to a young one, that I should advise you to pay proper
respect to the claims of the relations or guardians of any lady to whom
you wish to pay your addresses. I will, nevertheless, venture to assert
that, for many reasons, you will, in after life, have reason to
congratulate yourself upon pursuing a manly, open, honorable course in
relation to every feature of this important era in your career.
A friendship with a woman considerably older than himself (if she be
married, it will be all the better) and especially if he have not older
sisters, or is separated from them, is of incalculable advantage to a
young man, when based upon true principles of thought and action,--not
only in relation to subjects especially pertaining to affairs of the
heart, but respecting a thousand nameless practical matters, as well as
of mental culture, taste, sentiment, and conventional proprieties. Such
a female friend--matured by the advantages of nature and
circumstances--will secure you present enjoyment of an elevated
character, together with constant benefit and improvement, and expect
from you, in return for the great good she renders you, only those
graceful courtesies and attentions which a man of true good-breeding
always regards as equally obligatory and agreeable.
Let there be, however, a certain _gravity_ mingled with the
manifestations of regard you exhibit towards all married women, the
dominance of _respect_ in your manner towards them, and never permit any
consideration to induce you to forget the established right of every
husband to sanction or not, at his pleasure, the most abstractly
unexceptionable friendship between his wife and another man.
Every man with a nice sense of honor, will indicate, by his prevailing
bearing and language towards women a _felt_ distinction between the
intentions of friendship, and those of a suitor or lover. And while he
observes towards all women, and under all circumstances, the respectful
courtesy due to them, he will not hesitate to make his purpose
intelligible, _where he has conceived sufficient esteem to engender
matrimonial intentions_. Proper self-respect, as well as the
consideration due to a lady and her friends, demands this.
I repeat, that no degree of devotion to one, excuses incivility to other
female acquaintances in society; and I will add that the most acceptable
attentions to a woman of sense and delicacy, are not those that render
her generally conspicuous, but such as express an ever-present
remembrance of her comfort and a quick discernment of her real feelings
and wishes.
So in the matter of presents, and similar expressions of politeness,
good taste will dictate no lavish expenditure, unwarranted by pecuniary
resources, and inconsistent with the general surroundings of either
party, but rather a prevailing harmony that will be really a juster
tribute to the object of your regard, as well as a more creditable proof
of your own tact and judgment. All compliments, whether thus expressed,
or by word of mouth, should be characterized by delicate discrimination
and punctilious respect. It is said that women judge of character by
details: certain it is that what may seem trifles to us, often sensibly
influence their opinions of men. Their perceptions are so keen, their
sensibilities so acute, in comparison with ours, that we would err
materially in estimating them by the same gauge we apply to each other,
and thus the mysteries of the female heart will always remain in a
degree insoluble, even to the acutest masculine penetration.
But though the nicest shades of sentiment and feeling may escape our
coarser perceptions, we need no unusual discernment to perceive the
effects of kindness, gentleness, and forbearance in our domestic
relations. "I cannot much esteem the man," Rowland Hill remarked, "whose
wife, children, and servants, and even the cat and dog, are not sensibly
happier for his presence." Depend upon it, no fabled Genii could confer
on you a talisman so effective as the power bestowed by the enshrinement
in your heart of the _Law of Kindness_. In proportion to the delicacy of
woman's organization is her susceptibility to such influence, and he who
carelessly outrages the exquisite sensibilities that make the peculiar
charm of her nature, will too often learn, when the lesson brings with
it only the bitterness of experience,
----"how light a cause
May move dissension between hearts that love."
Shun, then, as you would the introduction into your physical system of
an insidious but irradicable poison,
"_The first slight swerving of the heart,
That words are powerless to express!_"
But while you seek to illustrate your constant remembrance that you
have, by the act of marriage, "bound yourself to be good-humored,
affable, discreet, forgiving, patient, and joyful, with respect to
frailties and imperfections to the end of life," bear in mind, also,
that your influence over another imposes duties of various kinds upon
you, and that you should use that influence with far-sighted wisdom, to
produce the greatest ultimate good. Thus you will be convinced that it
is the truest kindness to minister to the _intellect_ and the
_affections_ of woman, rather than to her vanity, and that in proportion
as you assist her to exalt her _higher nature_ into dominance, will you
be rewarded by a spirit-union commensurate to the most exalted
necessities of your own.
I have known men, in my time, who seemed to have a fixed belief that all
manifestations of the gentler instincts of humanity are unworthy of the
dignity of manhood, and who, by habitually repressing all exhibitions of
natural emotion, had apparently succeeded in steeling their hearts, as
well against all softening external impressions as to the inspiration of
the "still, sad music of" their better selves. All elevated emotions,
whether of an affectionate or religious character, are too sacred for
general observance: "When thou prayest, enter into thy closet and _shut
the door_," was the direction of our great Teacher, and so with the
_religion of the heart_ (if you will permit me the phrase), it would be
desecrated, were it possible--which from its very nature it is not--to
parade its outward tokens to indifferent eyes. And yet I return to a
prior stand-point and insist that there is a middle-ground, even here,
the _juste milieu_, as the French say.--_Apropos_--the ancient Romans
used the same word to designate _family affection_ and _piety_.
Intimately connected with the happiness of domestic life is the due
consideration of _pecuniary affairs_.
But, before we proceed to their discussion, let me, as long a somewhat
scrutinizing observer of the varying phases of social life, in our own
country especially, enter my earnest protest against the practice so
commonly adopted by newly-married persons, of _boarding_, in place of at
once establishing for themselves the distinctive and ennobling
prerogatives of HOME. Language and time would alike fail me in an
endeavor to set forth the manifold evils inevitably growing out of this
fashionable system. Take the advice of an old man, who has tested
theories by prolonged experience, and at once establish your _Penates_
within four walls, and under a roof that will, at times, exclude all who
are not properly denizens of your household, upon assuming the rights
and obligations of married life. Do not be deterred from this step by
the conviction that you cannot shrine your home-deities upon pedestals
of marble. _Cover their bases with flowers_--God's free gift to all--and
the plainest support will suffice for them, if it be but _firm_.
With right views of the true aims and enjoyments of life, it will be no
impossible achievement to establish your household appointments within
the limits of your income, whatever that may be, and to entertain the
conviction that the duty of providing for possible, if not probable,
future contingencies, is imperative with those who have assumed conjugal
and paternal responsibilities.
Firm adherence to such a system of living will bring with it a thousand
collateral pleasures and privileges, and secure the only true
independence. Nothing is more unworthy than the sacrifice of genuine
hospitality, taste, and refinement, to the requisitions of mere fashion,
in such arrangements; no thraldom so degrading as that imposed by the
union of poverty and false pride. What latent egotism, too, in the
pre-supposed idea that the world at large takes careful cognizance of
the individualizing specialities of any man, save when he trenches on
the reserved rights of others.
True self-respect, then, as well as enlarged perceptions of real life,
will dictate a judicious adjustment of means to desired results, and
teach the willing adoption of safe moderation in all.
Happily, _comfort_ and _refinement_ may be secured without ruinous
expenditure, even by the most modest beginners in housekeeping.
Industry, ingenuity and taste, will lend embellishment to the simplest
home, and the young, at least, can well afford to dispense with
enervating luxury and pretentious display.
With due deference to individual taste, I would commend the cultivation
and gratification of a _love of books and works of art_, in preference
to the purchase of costly furniture, mirrors, and the like. Fine prints
(which are preferable to indifferent paintings) are now within
obtainable reach, by many who permit themselves few indulgences,
comparatively, and everything having a tendency to foster the aesthetical
perceptions and enjoyments of children, and to exalt these
gratifications into habitual supremacy over the grosser pleasures of
sense, or the exhibitions of vanity, is worthy of regard. And as no
avoidable demands of the outer life should be permitted to diminish the
resources of either the heart or the mind, well-selected _books_ will
take high rank among the belongings of a well-appointed house.
To sum up all, my dear friends, if you aim at rational happiness, let
there be what is artistically termed _keeping_ in your whole system of
life. Let your style of dress, your mode of housekeeping, and
entertaining, your relaxations, amusements, occupations, and resources,
be harmoniously combined.
* * * * *
"Where and how is the most charming of Jewesses?" I asked one morning of
an old friend, upon whom I had been making an unreasonably early call,
rising to go.
"Here, sir, and very well," responded a cheerful voice from an adjoining
room. "Will you not come in a moment?"
The smiling "home-mother" opened wide the half-open door through which
my queries had been answered, and seconded her daughter's invitation.
There sat my fair young friend, with a small table before her, covered
with sewing materials, and a huge overcoat upon her lap. She was in a
simple, neat morning-dress, and plying the needle with great industry.
She apologized for not rising to receive me, but not for continuing her
occupation after I seated myself.
"As busily engaged as ever, I see," said I.
"Rather more so than usual, just now. Fred has come home in a very
dilapidated condition."
"And you are repairing him. But what are you doing with that huge,
bearish-looking coat? It's as much as you can do to lift it, I should
judge."
"Oh, I've been putting in new front-facings and sleeve-linings, and
fixing it up a little," returned she. "But, Colonel, do tell me, have
you read Macaulay's second volume?"
I replied that I had dipped into it, and added: "But, before we discuss
Macaulay, I want you to tell me how you learned to be so accomplished a
tailoress?"
"Rebecca can do anything she wishes," said her mother, in a soft, gentle
voice, "_the heart is a good teacher_."
"Thank you, mother," rejoined the sweet girl, "Colonel Lunettes will
make allowance for your natural partiality."
"I would, were it necessary, my dear," I answered, "but I can decide for
myself in your case."
A bow, a blush, and a pleasant laugh responded, and, rising, she
deposited the heavy garment she had been repairing, upon the arm of a
chair, and immediately reseating herself, placed a large basket full of
woollen stockings, at her side, threaded a stout alderman-like-looking
darning needle with thick yarn, and began to mend a formidable hole in
one of the socks. Her brother is an engineer, and I divined at a glance,
that those strong, warm things were, like the blanket-coat, part of his
outfit for a campaign in the swamps.
"I am delighted with Macaulay's elaborate sketches of individuals,"
resumed the busy seamstress, drawing out her long needle and thread, and
returning it with the speed and accuracy of nicely-adjusted machinery;
"do you recollect his portraiture of the _Trimmer_?"
"It is very fine," I answered, like everything else Macaulay has
written. "Nothing, however, has impressed me more, thus far, in his
history, than his description of the condition of the clergy of the
Established Church, in the rural districts, during the reign of James,
and later even."
"I, too, was exceedingly interested in it," replied Rebecca. "And the
more, that I was reminded of the fate of the _daughters_ of English
country curates, even at this day; of 'gentle blude,' many times, born
and educated ladies, they are subjected, frequently, through life, to
toil and suffering that would excuse their envying the fate of a mere
kitchen-drudge!"
"They are, usually, governesses for life, and never marry," continued I.
"Never marry--though they are so educated and disciplined, as to be
peculiarly well-fitted for the fulfillment of woman's dearest and
highest destiny! Thank God! I was born where such social thraldom, such
hateful monstrosities, are not!" And the face that turned its glance
upward, for an instant, with those last fervent words, was overspread
with a glow bright as the crimson hue of sunset.
But, though my friend Rebecca, was the last woman in the world to
"Die of a rose, in aromatic pain,"
she was a perfect Sybarite, in some respects, as I will convince you.
Entering her mother's tasteful, pretty drawing-room, a few evenings
after this conversation, I found the charming "Jewess," as I sometimes
called her, in allusion to Scott's celebrated heroine, reading by the
light of an astral lamp. She was elegantly, and, I suppose fashionably,
dressed, and reclining in a large, luxurious-looking, stuffed chair,
with her daintily-slippered feet, half buried in a soft crimson cushion.
In short, she was the very impersonation of the "unbought grace" of one
of Nature's queens. Had I been younger, by some fifty years, I should
have been tempted, beyond a doubt, to do oriental homage to so much
loveliness.
"By the way, Rebecca," said I, after a few minutes' chat with my
hostess, "I must tell you of a witticism you elicited, this morning,
from one of your admirers!"
"One of my admirers! Who, pray?"
"Guess! Well, I won't tantalize you!--Howard Parker!"
"You tell me something, Colonel! I am not entitled to enter Mr. Parker
on my list of friends."
"What, what! that to me, my dear? I have a great mind to punish you, by
not telling you what he said."
"As you please, Colonel Lunettes!" with a coquettish toss of her long
ringlets.
"Please, tell _me_, Colonel!" interposed her mother, smilingly; "don't
mind Rebecca's nonsense--tell me!"
"In a whisper?" I inquired, laughing, and glancing at the "Jewess." "I
hardly dare to venture that! Well! meeting Howard, who is a great
favorite of mine, in the street, this morning, he told me he was coming
here, to call. 'Steel your heart, then,' said I--'Or _she will steal
it_!' he answered, as quick as thought."
"Quite a _jeu d'esprit_!" exclaimed Rebecca, laughing gaily. "But,
Colonel, Mr. Parker may be witty, accomplished, and intellectual, but he
is _not a gentleman_!"
"My daughter, you are severe," said her mother, deprecatingly.
"I don't mean to be, mother; but"--
"From what do you draw such a sweeping inference, my child?" I inquired.
"From _trifles_, dear sir, I admit; but
----'trifles make the sum of human things!'