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THE YOUNG MAN'S GUIDE.
by
WM. A. ALCOTT.
Twelfth Edition.
Boston:
Perkins and Marvin.
1838.
Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1835,
By Perkins & Marvin,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
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 should 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,' 'Cobbett'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.
* * * * *
ADVERTISEMENT 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 thousand 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 literary and moral standing, to whom the work
had been submitted for examination.
THE PUBLISHERS.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION. Mistakes in regard to the disposition and management
of the young. 19-26
CHAPTER I.--IMPORTANCE OF AIMING HIGH IN THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER.
Section I. Importance of having a high standard of action.--The
young should determine to rise. We may usually become what we
desire to be. An anecdote. Studying the lives of eminent and
useful men. 27-30
Section II. Motives to action.--A regard to our own happiness. To
family and friends. To society. To country. To the will of God.
The love of God, the highest motive. 31-38
Section III. Industry.--No person has a right to live without
labor. Determine to labor as long as you live. Mistaken method
of teaching industry. Labor in the open air. Manual labor
schools. 38-43
Section IV. Economy.--False and true; Examples of the false. Time
is money. Sixty minutes shown to be an hour. Economical habits. 1.
Do every thing at the time. Anecdote. 2. Every thing should have
its place. Examples. 43-47
Section V. Indolence.--The indolent only half human. Characteristics
of an indolent man. His epitaph. 47-49
Section VI. Early Rising and rest.--He who would rise early, must
_retire_ early. Morning air. Advantages of early rising. 1. Things
go better through the day. 2. Morning hours more _agreeable_.
3. Danger of the _second nap_. 4. Early risers long-lived. 5. One
hour's sleep before midnight worth two after. 6. Saving of _time_
and _money_. Estimates. Examples of early rising. 49-55
Section VII. Duty to Parents.--Reasons. 1. For the sake of our own
reputation. 2. From love to our parents. 3. Better to _suffer_ wrong,
than to _do_ wrong. 4. Nothing gained by going away. Franklin an
exception to the general rule. No sight more beautiful than a well
ordered and happy family. Obedience the great lesson of life. 56-59
Section VIII. Faithfulness.--Our duty to our employers. Common
error of the young. Examples. The Mahratta prince. 59-61
Section IX. On Forming Temperate Habits.--Drunkenness and gluttony.
Indulgence short of these Indulgences very _expensive_. Spending time
at meals. Water drinkers the best guests. Temperate habits tend to
health. Ecclesiasticus. Examples of rational living. Tea, coffee,
soups, and all warm drinks injurious. General rules. 62-70
Section X. Suppers.--Customs of our ancestors; and of the Jews.
Advantages gained by avoiding suppers. Eating-houses. 70-73
Section XI. Dress.--Its uses. Neither be first nor last in a
fashion. Fondness for dress. Women not often misled by dress. 73-75
Section XII. Bashfulness and Modesty.--We _may_ be both bashful
and impudent. Bashfulness injurious. Set up for just what we are,
and no more. 76-78
Section XIII. Politeness and Good Breeding.--Not to be despised.
In what good breeding consists. How acquired. Ten plain rules. 78-82
Section XIV. Personal Habits.--Business of the day planned in
the morning. Dressing, shaving, &c. Shaving with cold water.
Anecdote. 82-88
Section XV. Bathing and Cleanliness.--Connection of Cleanliness
with Moral Purity. Neglect of this subject. 88-89
Section XVI. Little Things.--Not to be disregarded. Zimmerman.
The world _made up_ of little things. 89-93
Section XVII. Anger, and the means of restraining it. Avoid the
first steps. An error in education. Opinion of Dr. Darwin. The
Quaker and the Merchant. Zimmerman's method of _overcoming_
anger. Unreasonableness of returning evil for evil. 93-99
CHAPTER II.--ON THE MANAGEMENT OF BUSINESS.
Section I. Commencing Business.--Avoid debt. Do not begin too
early. Facts stated. Why young men do not take warning. Students
of Medicine and Divinity. Examples for imitation. 100-108
Section II. Importance of Integrity.--Thieves and robbers respect
it. What it is. Many kinds of dishonesty. 1. Concealing the market
price. 2. Misrepresenting it. 3. Selling unsound or defective goods,
and calling them sound and perfect. Quack medicines. 4. Concealing
defects. 5. Lowering the value of things we wish to buy. 6. Use of
false weights and measures. Other kinds of dishonesty. 108-115
Section III. Method.--Memorandum book; its uses. Rules for doing
much business in little time. 116-117
Section IV. Application to Business.--Every person ought to have
one principal object of pursuit, and steadily pursue it.
Perseverance of a shopkeeper. All _useful_ employments
respectable. Character of a _drone_. 117-120
Section V. Proper Time and Season of doing Business.--When to deal
with the gloomy; the intemperate; those unhappy in domestic life;
men involved in public concerns. 120-122
Section VI. Buying upon Trust.--Live within our income. _Calculate._
Buy nothing but what you need. Estimates and examples to show the
folly of credit. Not intended as lessons of stinginess. 122-127
Section VII. We should endeavor to do our business ourselves. Four
reasons. Trusting dependants. We can do many little things without
hindrance. 127-130
Section VIII. Over Trading.--A species of _fraud_. Arises
from a desire to get rich rapidly. Wickedness of monopolies. 130-131
Section IX. Making contracts beforehand. Always make bargains
beforehand. Three reasons. If possible, reduce every thing to
writing. 131-132
Section X. How to know with whom to deal.--Two rules. How to
detect a knave. All men by nature, avaricious. Avoid those who
boast of _good bargains_. Avoid sanguine promisers. 133-135
Section XI. How to take Men as they are.--How to regard a miser; a
passionate man; a slow man; the covetous; those ruled by their
wives; the boasting; the mild tempered; the bully. Six sorts of
people from whom you are not to expect much aid or sympathy in
life: the sordid, the lazy, the busy, the rich, those miserable
from poverty, and the silly. 136-140
Section XII. Of desiring the good opinion of others.--Those not
far from ruin who _don't care_.--The other extreme to be
avoided. 140-141
Section XIII. Intermeddling with the affairs of others.--Matchmakers.
Taking sides in quarrels. Ishmaelites. 142-143
Section XIV. On keeping Secrets.--Who may safely be trusted.
Anecdotes. 143-145
Section XV. Fear of Poverty.--Little real poverty in this country.
Shame of being thought poor leads to worse evils than poverty
itself. Fear of poverty often a cause of suicide. 145-150
Section XVI. Speculation.--The habit early formed. It is a species
of gaming. Its sources. 150-152
Section XVII. Lawsuits.--Avoid the law. Litigiousness, a disease.
Consider what is gained by it. Examples of loss. Subdue the
passions which lead to it. Lawsuits unnecessary. 152-156
Section XVIII. Hard dealing.--Its unchristian nature. _Two
prices._ Habits of the Mohammedans. 156-157
CHAPTER III.--ON AMUSEMENTS AND INDULGENCES.
Section I. On Gaming.--Every gambler a robber. The _first_ player.
Gaming _produces_ nothing. Corrupts manners. Discourages industry.
Opinions of Locke and others. What tremendous evils it leads to.
France, England. Different sorts of gaming. 1. _Cards_, _dice_,
and _billiards_. 2. _Shooting matches._ These brutal practices
still sometimes tolerated. 3. _Horse racing_ and _cock fighting_.
A recent bull fight. 158-171
Section II. On Lotteries.--Lotteries the _worst_ species of
Gaming. They are a species of swindling. Estimates to show their
folly. Appeal to the reader. 171-176
Section III. The Theatre.--A school of vice. Injurious to health.
Diseases produced by it. Its danger to morals. Opinions and facts
from Griscom, Rousseau, Hawkins, Tillotson, Collier, Hale, Burgh,
and Plato. Anecdote. Antiquity of theatres. No safety but in
_total abstinence_. 176-183
Section IV. Use of Tobacco.--1. _Smoking._ Picture of its evils
in Germany. Tobacco consumed in the United States. When it was
introduced. None recommend it to their children. A most powerful
poison. Savages fond of it, in proportion to their degradation.
No poisonous plant, so much used, except the _betel_ of India.
How smoking can be abolished. 2. _Chewing._ Apologies for the
practice. Tobacco _does not_ preserve teeth. 3. _Taking snuff._
Disgust and danger of this habit. 183-191
Section V. Useful Recreations.--Recreations in the open air.
Playing ball; quoits; nine pins, &c. Skating. Dancing. Its uses
and dangers. Reading sometimes a recreation. Sports of the field
considered. 191-194
CHAPTER IV.--IMPROVEMENT OF THE MIND.
Section I. Habits of Observation.--We should keep our 'eyes open.'
Anecdote from Dr. Dwight. Avoid pedantry. Anecdote of a
surgeon;--of the elder and younger Pliny. 195-199
Section II. Rules for Conversation.--Rules of profiting from it.
Hear others. Do not interrupt them. Avoid those who use vulgar or
profane language. Speak late yourself. Avoid great earnestness.
Never be overbearing. 199-202
Section III. On Books and Study.--How to overcome a dislike to them.
Lyceums, Travels, Histories, Newspapers. A common mistake. Education
only the key to knowledge. Men have commenced students at 40.
Franklin always a learner. We can find _time_ for study. _Practical
Studies._ 1. _Geography._ How to study it. Its importance. 2.
_History._ How pursued. 3. _Arithmetic._ _Practical_ arithmeticians.
The mere use of the pen and pencil do not give a knowledge of this
branch. 4. _Chemistry_, and other Natural Sciences. Usefulness of
Chemistry. 5. _Grammar_ and _Composition_. One method of obtaining
a _practical_ knowledge of these branches. 6. _Letter writing_. 7.
_Voyages_, _travels_, and _biography_. 8. _Novels._ Not recommended,
especially to those who have little leisure. 9. _Newspapers._
Newspapers, though productive of much evil, on the whole useful.
Five rules to assist the reader in making a judicious selection.
Politics. History and constitution of our country studied. 10.
_Keeping a Journal._ Examples. Other ways of improving the mind.
Blank book, with pencil in our pockets. 11. _Preservation of Books
and Papers._ Books should be covered; kept clean; used with dry
hands. Turning down leaves. Using books for pillows, props to
windows, seats, &c. 202-229
CHAPTER V.--SOCIAL AND MORAL IMPROVEMENT.
Section I. Female Society, in general.--Both sexes should be
educated together. What we are to think of those who despise
female society. How it polishes and improves us. 230-234
Section II. Advice and Friendship of Mothers. 234-235
Section III. Society of Sisters--Attentions due them. Their
benefit. 236-237
Section IV. General Remarks and Advice.--Too great intimacy. Avoid
trifling. Beware of idolatry. 238-241
Section V. Lyceums and other Social Meetings.--Value of Lyceums,
and courses of lectures. How they might be improved. Their
cheapness. 241-243
Section VI. Moral Instruction.--Sabbath Schools and Bible Classes.
Value of the latter. 243-244
Section VII. Of Female Society in reference to Marriage.--Every
youth should keep matrimony in view. Particular advice. The wish
to marry, prudently indulged, will have a great influence on our
character. Error of a pedagogue. 244-250
CHAPTER VI.--MARRIAGE.
Section I. Why Matrimony is a duty.--Importance of the subject.
Considered as a school. Early marriage. Objections. Seven great
evils from late marriages. 251-258
Section II. General Considerations.--Husbands and wives gradually
resemble each other. Considerations for those who embark in
matrimony. 258-262
Section III. Female Qualifications for Matrimony.--1. _Moral
Excellence._ 2. _Common Sense._ 3. _Desire for improvement._
4. _Fondness for children._ Miserable condition of a husband
or wife, where this is wanting. 5. _Love of domestic concerns._
Evils of ignorance on this point. Fashionable education in
fault. 6. _Sobriety._ Definition of the term. An anecdote.
Love of mental and bodily excitement usually connected.
7. _Industry._ How to judge whether a person is industrious.
8. _Early rising._ A mark of industry. Late rising difficult
of cure. 9. _Frugality._ Its importance shown. 10. _Personal
Neatness._ Its comforts. 11. _A good temper._ Its importance
illustrated. 12. _Accomplishments._ 263-305
CHAPTER VII.--CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR.
Section I. Inconstancy and Seduction.--Constancy. Its importance
illustrated by an example. Cruelty of sporting with the affections
of a female. Opinion of Burgh. 306-313
Section II. Licentiousness.--Most common in cities. New Orleans.
Hint to legislators. A horrid picture. Not wholly imaginary. Avoid
the first erring step. Example of premature decrepitude. Anecdote
of C. S. Solitary vice. This vice compared with intemperance. A
set of wretches exposed. Apologies sometimes made. Nature of the
evils this error produces. The law of God. Medical testimony.
Entire celibacy, or purity, not unfavorable to health. Youth ought
to consider this, and study the human frame. Causes of the error
in question. 1. _False delicacy._ Our half Mohammedan education.
2. _Books_, _Pictures_, &c. Great extent of this evil. Opinion
of Dr. Dwight. 3. _Obscene and improper songs._ Anecdote of a
schoolmaster. 4. _Double entendres._ Parental errors. _Evening
Parties._ 314-337
Section III. Diseases of Licentiousness. Nine or ten of them
enumerated. The ninth described. Four examples of suffering. When
the young ought to tremble. Happiness of having never erred. What
books may be safely and usefully consulted. Extract from Rees'
Cyclopedia. Other forms of disease. Of excess. All degrees of vice
are excessive. Duties of Parents as guides to the young.
Obligations of Medical men. Concluding Remarks. 337-354
ADDITIONAL CHAPTER.
Section I. Choice of Friends. Importance of a few female friends.
Caution necessary in making a choice. Story of Lucius--his mistake.
Reflections. Character of friends. Select a small number only.
Section II. Rudeness of manners. Wearing hats in the house--its
tendency. Practical questions. Manners in families.
Section III. Self-praise. Egotism. We should say little about
ourselves.
INTRODUCTION.
The young are often accused of being thoughtless, 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 almost strangers to the 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 general 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 suffering 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 disqualify 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
those 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 ever--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 really 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 any thing 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
temptation, 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 afterwards 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 it
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 convinced, 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 for ever. 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 seasons, 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 the old 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 secure 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 requiring 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 success in that noblest of 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 in one.
One thing 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 into 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 advantage 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 thoughts 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
the 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.
CHAPTER I.
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 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 able to equal 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 impossible, 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 aims 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 any
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 is it, in the
formation of character, except in one point. To reach the sun with a
arrow is an impossibility, but a 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 unconscious
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 thing great or distinguished is in their power.
But whence came en Alexander, a Caesar, a Charles XII, or a Napoleon? 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 profligacy, 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 careful 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 principles, 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 the 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 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 interests 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 young 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 his 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, especially 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_, is their principal 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
that every violation of his laws brings punishment along with it? Do
you study the laws of God, as revealed in the Bible? And do not 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 should 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 rank 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 pastimes--in a word, every
thing--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, then, brings us to the highest of human motives to action, the
love of God. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God supremely, and thou shalt
love thy neighbor as thyself, are the 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_. On 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 apostle never spoken. It is just as true
now as it was 2,000 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 any thing 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 yield 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 competence,
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 a 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 hence 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 every one 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, in 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 youth of
this proud 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 into two, which will answer a very
good purpose; but at others, both parts 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 knew 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 'withholding' 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 make 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.[1]
In order to form economical habits, several important 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_.
1. _Every thing must be done at the time._ Whether you attempt little
or much, let every hour have its employment, in business, study, social
conversation, or diversion; and unless it be on extraordinary
occasions, you must not suffer your plan to be broken. It is in this
way that many men who perform an incredible amount of business, have
abundant leisure. And it is for want of doing business systematically
that many who effect but little, never find much leisure. They spend
their lives in literally 'doing nothing.'
An eminent prime minister of Holland was asked how he could perform
such a vast amount of business, as it was known he did, and yet have so
much leisure. 'I do every thing at the time;' was the reply.
Some of you will say you have no room for any plan of your own; that
your whole time is at the will of your master, or employer. But this is
not so. There are few persons who are so entirely devoted to others as
not to have minutes, if not hours, every day, which they can call their
own. Now here it is that character is tried and proved. He alone who is
wise in small matters, will be wise in large ones. Whether your
unoccupied moments amount in a day to half an hour, or an hour, or two
hours, 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 that you have but a very
few minutes at your command, will create an interest in your employment
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 than he was during the whole
time. Now to read four such works as Rollin in a year, is by no means a
matter to be despised.
2. _Every thing should have its place._ Going into a shop, the other
day, where a large number of persons were employed, I observed the
following motto, in large letters, pasted on the side of the room; 'Put
every thing in its proper place.' I found the owner of the shop to be a
man of order and economy.
An old gentleman of my acquaintance, who always had a place for every
thing, made it a rule, if any thing 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 every thing, and they
put every thing 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.
[1] 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 following 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 may 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.
SECTION V. _Indolence._
One of the greatest obstacles in the road to excellence, 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
reasonably, and more than reasonably gratified. You can no more rouse
them, with all their fine arguments, than you can a log. There they
lie, completely enchained 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 _un_wills in the next breath.
What is to be done with such a man, especially if he is 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 he 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 sleeps 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 of 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 gift of 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
abstinent because he drank no spirituous 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 of the appropriate means of preventing the gout in those
who are predisposed to it, after giving directions in regard to diet,
drink, exercise, &c., recommends an early hour of retiring to rest. 'By
all means,' says he, 'you should go to bed by eleven.'
To half the population of New England such a direction would seem
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 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 their 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.
2. In the warm season, the morning is the most agreeable time for
labor. Many farmers and mechanics in the country perform a good half
day's work before the people of the city scarcely know that the sun
shines.[2]
3. To lie snoring late in the morning, assimilates us to the most
beastly of animals. Burgh, an ingenious English writer, justly
observes; 'There is no time spent more stupidly than that which some
luxurious people pass in a morning between sleeping 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 are
awakened by accident.
4. It has been remarked by experienced physicians that they have
seldom, if ever, known a person of great age, who was not an early
riser. In enumerating the causes of longevity, Rush and Sinclair both
include early rising.
5. It is a trite but just maxim that one hour's sleep before midnight
is worth two afterward. Why it is so, would perhaps be difficult to
say. The power of habit is great, and as the majority of children are
trained to go to bed early, perhaps this will in part account for the
fact. So when the usual hour for meal arrives, a given amount of food
eaten at the time, is digested in a more healthy and regular manner
than if eaten one, or two, or three hours afterwards. Again, nature
certainly intended man should exercise 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.
6. The person who, instead of going to bed at nine, sits up till
eleven, and then sleeps during two hours of daylight the following
morning, is grossly negligent of economy. For, suppose he makes this
his constant practice, during his whole _business_ life, say fifty
years. The extra oil or tallow which he would consume would not be
estimated at less than one cent an evening; which, in fifty years would
be $182.50. Not a very large sum to be sure; but, to every _young_ man,
worth saving; since, to a community of 1,000 young men, the amount
would be no less than $182,500. Then the loss in health and strength
would be far greater, though it is obvious that it cannot so easily be
computed.
7. Once more. If an hour's sleep before midnight is worth more than an
hour in the morning, then an hour in the morning is of course worth
less than an hour before midnight, and a person must sleep a greater
number of hours in the morning to obtain an equal amount of rest. A
person retiring at eleven and rising at eight, would probably get no
more rest, possibly less, than a person 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 $1,565. 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 loss. The time of the young and old is beyond
all price for the purposes of mental and moral improvement. 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 too 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 estimated.
Do you startle at these estimates! It is proper that many of you
should. You have misspent 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
the 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 as 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 to aspire to conquer kingdoms, or to
become prime ministers; but you ought to aspire to get the 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.
[2] Dr. Franklin, in view of the latter fact, wrote a humorous
Essay, at Paris, in which he labored hard to show the people of
that luxurious and dissipated city, that the sun gives light as
soon as it rises.
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.
Now 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 parents in all the
arraignments of 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 for
their kind care; together with a conviction that perfect rectitude is
not to be expected. You will find error, more or less, every where
around you--even in yourselves; why should you expect 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 this
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, an 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 dictates 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 faithfulness 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 faithfulness 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, persevering, 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 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 parcels 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 faithful 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 city 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 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 still 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_.[3] 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 ECCLESIASTICUS 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 valiantness 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 villains 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 one of the most odious and destructive vices in
the black catalogue of human depravity!
'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 necessity 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 my readers,
nor to hold out the example of the individual whose language I have
quoted, as worthy of general imitation. 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.
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 never would 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_. If 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 not 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 or
rheumatism) rather large. They will probably lose more time in this
way, than they can possibly save by eating rapidly.
The idea of preventing conversation about what we eat is also idle,
though 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 rest 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 twice 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 any thing 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,
those kinds, which the experience of mankind generally, combined and
compared with his own, show to be _most useful_. He can _live_ on
almost any thing. 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. 2.
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 their 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 most luxurious repast of the day.
Now many of our plain country people do not know that such a practice
exists. They 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 every where unless it be from the dwellings of creatures
that should be men,--if, in one word, you would lengthen your lives
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 poisonous
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.
[3] 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.
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, and the subject should
receive a measure of our attention, on this account. It is only a
slight tax which we pay for the benefits of living in civilized
society. When, however, we sacrifice every thing else to appearance, we
commit a very great error. We make that first in point of importance,
which ought to be fourth.
Let your dress be as cheap as may be without shabbiness, and endeavor
to be neither first nor last in a fashion. Think more about the
cleanliness, than the gloss or texture of your clothes. Be always as
clean as your occupation will permit; but never for one moment believe
that any human being, who has good sense, will love or respect you
_merely_ on account of a fine or costly coat.
Extravagance in the haunting of _play-houses_, in _horses_, in every
thing else, is to be avoided, but in young men, extravagance in _dress_
particularly. This sort of extravagance, this waste of money on the
decoration of the body, arises solely from vanity, and from vanity of
the most contemptible sort. It arises from the notion, that all the
people in the street, for instance, will be _looking at you_, as soon
as you walk out; and that they will, in a greater or less degree, think
the better of you on account of your fine dress.
Never was a notion more false. Many sensible people, that happen to see
you, will think nothing at all about you: those who are filled with the
same vain notion as you are, will perceive your attempt to impose on
them, and despise it. Rich people will wholly disregard you, and you
will be envied and hated by those who have the same vanity that you
have, without the means of gratifying it.
Dress should be suited, in some measure, to our condition. A surgeon or
physician need not dress exactly like a carpenter; but, there is no
reason why any body should dress in a very _expensive_ manner. It is a
great mistake to suppose, that they derive any _advantage_ from
exterior decoration.
For after all, men are estimated by other _men_ according to their
capacity and willingness to be in some way or other _useful_; and,
though, with the foolish and vain part of _women_, fine clothes
frequently do something, yet the greater part of the sex are much too
penetrating to draw their conclusions solely from the outside
appearance. They look deeper, and find other criterions whereby to
judge. Even if fine clothes should obtain you a wife, will they bring
you, in that wife, _frugality_, _good sense_, and that kind of
attachment which is likely to be lasting?
Natural beauty of person is quite another thing: this always has, it
always will and must have, some weight even with men, and great weight
with women. But, this does not need to be set off by expensive clothes.
Female eyes are, in such cases, discerning; they can discover beauty
though surrounded by rags: and, take this as a secret worth half a
fortune to you, that women, however vain they may be themselves,
_despise vanity in men_.
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 that 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 and buy our wares, unless we advertise or
expose them for sale. So if we would commend ourselves to the notice of
our fellow men, we must set ourselves up,--not for something which we
are not;--but for what, upon a 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--and 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 themselves 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_ that 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_ he _shall_ not, most surely _will_ not,
please. A man of sense, and knowledge of the 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 air
of modesty in all he does; while an overbearing or impudent _manner_ of
doing the same things, would undoubtedly have given offence. Hence a
certain wise man has said; 'He who knows the world will not be too
bashful; and 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 one 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 it 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, is 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, an 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 this 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 reason 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 affectation, 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 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 agreeable 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 every thing 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.
1. Never weary your company by talking too long, or too frequently.
2. Always look people in the face when you address them, and generally
when they are speaking to you.
3. Attend to a person who is addressing you. Inattention marks a
trifling mind, and is a most unpardonable piece of rudeness. It is even
an _affront_; for it is the same thing as saying that his remarks are
not _worth_ your attention.
4. Do not interrupt the person who is speaking by saying _yes_, or
_no_, or _hem_, at every sentence; it is the most useless thing that
can be. An occasional assent, either by word or action, may be well
enough; but even a nod of assent is sometimes repeated till it becomes
disgusting.
5. Remember that every person in a company likes to be the _hero_ of
that company. Never, therefore, engross the whole conversation to
yourself.
6. Learn to sit or stand still, while another is speaking to you. You
will not of course be so rude as to dig in the earth with your feet, or
take your penknife from your pocket and pair your nails; but there are
a great many other little movements which are scarcely less clownish.
7. Never anticipate for another, or _help him out_, as it is called.
This is quite a rude affair, and should ever be avoided. Let him
conclude his story for himself. It is time enough for you to make
corrections or additions afterward, if you deem his account defective.
It is also a piece of impoliteness to interrupt another in his remarks.
8. Say as little of _yourself_ and _your friends_ as possible.
9. Make it a rule never to accuse, without due consideration, any body
or association of men.
10. Never try to appear more wise or learned than the rest of the
company. Not that you should _affect_ ignorance; but endeavor to remain
within your own proper sphere.
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
acquainted 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 dress always be loose? 'They save _other clothes_.' Then 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 principal 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 obliged 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 daylight; 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 Latin? '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
the 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 have 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 proceed 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.
Let 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
then you will always be ready to act. But to this end the habit must 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 other 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 clerk was wanted to make out the morning report
of the regiment. I rendered the clerk unnecessary; and, long before any
other man was dressed for the parade, my work for the morning was all
done, and I myself was on the parade 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 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 for any duty out of doors, unless when
the regiment, or part of it, went out to exercise in the morning. When
this was the case, and the matter was left to me, I always had it on
the ground in such 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 the 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 at
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 that 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 moral purity, (whether as 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 of the year; and never to wear the same
clothes, during the day, that they have slept in the previous night.
Now this habit may 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 washing the whole
body once? There are thousands and tens of thousands of both sexes, who
are exceedingly nice, even to fastidiousness, about externals;--who,
like those mentioned in the gospel, keep clean 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 upon
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 correspondence, 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 of 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 often from our exterior appearance;
and will continue to do so: and first impressions are very difficult to
be 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 mightier 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
injures the body, or debases the mind, so much as the frequent
repetition of those smaller errors, whose habitual occurrence goes to
establish the predominating choice of the mind, or affection of the
soul.
Avoid then, 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 restraining 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 smaller 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 feelings lead us to destroy even the most troublesome or
disgusting reptiles or insects _in anger_, we have so far prepared the
way for the indulgence of anger 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 thing 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 observance 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 highly difficult, you may adopt some plan
or device for gaining time. Some recommend counting twenty or thirty,
deliberately. The following anecdote of the celebrated Zimmerman is
exactly in point, and may afford useful hints for instruction.
Owing in part to a diseased state of body, Zimmerman 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 intervening 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 for advice 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 if the
cause of anger be a report, for example, of injury done to us by an
absent person, either in words or deeds, how do we know the report is
true? Or it may be only partly true; and how do we know, till we
consider the matter well, whether it is worth our anger at all? Or if
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 very 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 species 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 to counteract it by _another_ wrong? Is it not obvious that
it only makes 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 Saviour, and the apostles
and early Christians, is a full confirmation of it, in practice.
CHAPTER II.
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.[4] 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 1,000 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 1,000 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 suppose the natural talents, capacity for doing
business, and expenditures--in fact every thing,--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 1,000, 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 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
its 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 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 is
it confined to those whose 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 licenses 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 a considerable part of the time besides. He
has only to devote some of his _extra_ hours to the study of anatomy,
surgery, and medicine, recite occasionally to a practitioner, as
ignorant, almost, as himself; hear one series of medical lectures; and
procure certificates that he has studied medicine 'three years,'
including the time of the lectures; and he will be licensed, almost of
course. Then he sallies forth to commit depredations on society at
discretion; and how many he kills is unknown. 'I take it for granted,
however,' said a President of a College, three years ago, who
understood this matter pretty well, 'that every half-educated young
physician, who succeeds at last in getting a _reputable_ share of
practice, must have rid the world, rather prematurely, of some dozen or
twenty individuals, at the least, in order to qualify himself for the
profession.'
The evil is scarcely more tolerable, as regards young ministers, except
that the community in general have better means of knowing when they
are imposed upon by ignorance or quackery in this matter, than in most
other professions. The principal book for a student of theology is in
the hands of every individual, and he is taught to read and understand
it. The great evil which arises to students of divinity themselves from
entering their profession too early, is the loss of health. Neither the
minds nor the bodies of young men are equal to the responsibilities of
this, or indeed of any other profession or occupation, at 20, and
rarely at 25. Nothing is more evident than that young men, generally,
are losers in the end, both in a pecuniary point of view and in regard
to health, by commencing business before 30 years of age. But this I
have already attempted to show.
As regards candidates for the ministry, several eminent divines are
beginning to inculcate the opinion, with great earnestness, that to
enter fully upon the active duties of this laborious vocation before
the age I have mentioned, is injurious to themselves and to the cause
they wish to promote--the cause of God. And I hope their voices will be
raised louder and louder on this topic, till the note of remonstrance
reaches the most distant villages of our country.
It has often occurred to me that every modest young man, whatever may
be his destination, _might_ learn wisdom from consulting the history of
the YOUNG MAN OF NAZARETH as well as of the illustrious reformer who
prepared the way for him.[5] _Our_ young men, since newspapers have
become so common, are apt to think themselves thoroughly versed in law,
politics, divinity, &c.; and are not backward to exhibit their talents.
But who is abler at disputation than HE who at twelve years of age
proved a match for the learned doctors of law at Jerusalem? Did he,
whose mind was so mature at twelve, enter upon the duties of _his_
ministry (a task more arduous than has ever fallen to the lot of any
_human_ being) at 18 or 20 years of age? But why not, when he had so
much to do?--Or did he wait till he was in his 30th year?
The great question with every young man should not be, When can I get
such assistance as will enable me to commence business;--but, Am I well
_qualified_ to commence? Perfect in his profession, absolutely so, no
man ever will be; but a measure of perfection which is rarely if ever
attained under 30 years of age, is most certainly demanded. To learn
the simplest handicraft employment in some countries, a person must
serve an apprenticeship of at least _seven years_. Here, in America,
half that time is thought by many young men an intolerable burden, and
they long to throw it off. They wish for what they call a better order
of things. The consequences of this feeling, and a growing spirit of
insubordination, are every year becoming more and more deplorable.
[4] 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 it is so.
[5] Even Timothy--_young_ Timothy as he has been often
called--was probably in his 30th year when he was ordained.