Decision of character as important to young women as to others. Why it is so. Illustration of the subject by a Scripture anecdote. Misery and danger of indecision. How to reform. Perseverance. Errors of modern education.
This trait of character has been recommended to young men too exclusively. I know of no reason why it is not equally important to young women, and equally becoming the sex in general. One thing, at any rate, I do know; which is, that thousands of young women—and the world through their imperfection—suffer, in no trifling degree, from the want of this virtue.
I call it avirtue.What is there that produces more evil—directly or indirectly—than the want of power, when occasion requires it, to say YES, or NO? As long as with half the human race—and the more influential half, too-nodoes not meanno,andyesdoes not meanyes,there will be a vast amount of vice, and crime, and suffering in the world, as the natural consequence. And is not that which is the cause of so much evil, nearly akin to vice? And is any thing more entitled to the name of virtue, than its opposite?
Let me illustrate my meaning by a Scripture example. When Balak, the king of Moab, undertook to extort a curse upon Israel, from Balaam, the latter did not sayno; but only said, the Lord would not permit him to do what was required. He left neither to Balak nor to his messengers, any reason to conclude that his virtue was invulnerable. On the contrary, as the event plainly shows, his answer was just such a one as encouraged them to prosecute their attempts to seduce him.
Now it is precisely this sort of refusal, direct or implied, in a thousand cases which might be named, which brings down evil, not only upon those who make it, but upon others. They meanno, perhaps; and yet it is not certain that the decision is—like the laws of the Medea and Persians—irrevocable. Something in the tone, or manner, or both combined, leaves room to hope for success in time to come. "The woman who deliberates, is lost," we are told: and is it not so? Do not many who saynowith hesitancy, still retain the power and the disposition to deliberate? And is it not so understood?
It is—I repeat it—a great misfortune—a very great one—not to know how and when to say NO. Indeed, the undecided are more than unfortunate; they are very unsafe. They who cannot sayno, are never their own keepers; they are always, more or less, in the power and at the command of others. They may form a thousand resolutions a day, to withstand in the hour of temptation; and yet, if the temptation comes, and they have not acquired decision of character, it is ten to one but they will yield to it.
Is it too much to say, that half the world are miserable on this account,—miserable themselves, and a source of misery to others? Is it too much to say, that decision of character is more important to young women than to any other class of persons whatever?
But as it is in every thing or almost every thing else, so it is in this matter: they who would reform themselves, must begin with the smaller matters of life. The great trials—those of decision no less than those of other traits of human character—come but seldom; and they who allow themselves, habitually, to vacillate, and hesitate, and remain undecided, in the every-day concerns of life, will inevitably do so in those larger matters which recur less frequently.
No one will succeed in acquiring true decision of character, without perseverance. A few feeble efforts, continued a day or two, or a week, are by no means sufficient to change the character or form the habit. The efforts must be earnest, energetic, and unremitted; and must be persevered in through life.
I am not ignorant that many philosophers and physiologists have denied that woman possesses the power of perseverance in what she undertakes, in any eminent degree. A British writer, distinguished for his boldness, if not for his metaphysical acuteness, maintains with much earnestness, that woman, by her vital organization, is much wanting in perseverance. This notion may or may not be true. Certain it is, however, that she has her peculiarities, as well as man his. But whether she has little or much native power of perseverance in what she undertakes, is not so important a question, as whether she makes a proper use of the power she possesses.
"Who does the best his circumstance allows,Does well; acts nobly: angels could no more."
We are required, however, to do that best which "circumstance" does allow, as much as is the highest seraph; and woman is not the less bound to persevere in matters where perseverance would become her, because her native power of perseverance is feeble, if indeed it is so. On the contrary, this very fact makes the duty of perseverance to the utmost extent of the means God has put into her hands, the more urgent—especially assmall powersare apt to be overlooked.
There is one habit which should be cultivated, not only for its usefulness in general, but especially for its value in leading to true decision of character. I mean, the habit of doing every thing which it devolves upon us to do at all, preciselyat the timewhen it ought to be done. Every thing in human character goes to wreck, under the reign of procrastination, while prompt action gives to all things a corresponding and proportional life and energy. Above all, every thing in the shape of decision of character is lost by delay. It should be a sacred rule with every individual who lives in the world for any higher purpose than merely to live, never to put off, for a single moment, a thing which ought to be done immediately—if it be no more than the cleaning or changing of a garment.
When I see a young woman neglecting, from day to day, her correspondents—her pile of letters constantly increasing, and her dread of putting pen and thoughts to paper accumulating as rapidly—I never fail to conclude, at once, that whatever other excellent qualities she may possess, she is a stranger to the one in question. She who cannot make up her mind to answer a letter when she knows it ought to be answered—and in general a letter ought to be answered soon after it is received—will not be likely to manifest decision in other things of still greater importance. The same is true, as I have said already several times, in regard to indecision in other things of even less moment than the writing of a letter. It is manifest especially in regard to the matter of rising in the morning. She who knows it is time to get up, and yet cannot decide to do so, and consequently lies yawning a little longer, "and yet a little longer still," can never, I am bold to say, while this indolence and indecision are indulged, be decided in any thing else—at least; habitually.
She may, indeed, be so by fits and starts; but the habit will never be so confirmed as to be regarded as an essential element of her character.
Nearly all the habits of modern female education—I mean thefashionableeducation of the family and school—are entirely at war with the virtue I am endeavoring to inculcate. It would be a miracle, almost, if a young woman who has been educated in a fashionable family, under the eye of a fashionable mother, and at a fashionable boarding school, under the direction of a teacher whose main object is to please her patrons, should come out to the world, without being quite destitute of all true decision of character. If it were the leading object of our boarding schools to form the habit of indecision, they could not succeed better than many of them now do. They furnish to the world a set of beings who are any thing but what the world wants, and who are more likely to do almost any thing else, than to be the means of reforming it.
Fashionable education. Why there is so little self-dependence in the world. Why orphans sometimes make out well in the world. Error corrected. What young women once were. What they are now. The best character formed under difficulties. Cause of the present helpless condition of females. Three or four to get breakfast. Modes of breaking up these habits. Anecdote of an independent young woman. Appeal to the reader.
Here, again, our fashionable modes of education are wrong; and here, too, almost every young woman who is determined on improvement, has a great work to perform.
It is one of the most difficult things in the world—perhaps it is one of the impossibles—to bring up children amid comforts and conveniences, and yet at the same time to cultivate in them the habit of self-dependence—or, as some would call it, the habit of independence.
And yet nothing is more true, than that human character has always, with few if any exceptions, been most fully developed and most harmoniously and healthfully formed, amid difficulties. Mr. M'Clure, the distinguished geologist, whose opportunities for observation in the world have been very great, says that orphans, as a general rule, make their way best in the world. Without claiming for myself so many years of observation, by thirty or forty, as this distinguished veteran in natural science, I should be glad to make one modification of his conclusion, before adopting it as my own. I would say, that the misfortune of having no parents at all, is scarcely greater than that of having over-indulgent ones; and that the number of those who are spoiled by indulgence, is greater than the number of those who are spoiled by being made orphans.
It cannot be that an institution ordained by Heaven as one of its first laws, should so completely fail in accomplishing its design—that of blessing mankind—as Mr. M'Clure represents. It cannot be that parents, as a general rule, are a misfortune. Such a belief is greatly erroneous.
The truth is, that when we look about us and see so many spoiled, who appear to be well bred, our attention is so exclusively directed to these strange, but, in a dense population, frequently occurring cases, that we begin, ere long, to fancy the exception to be the general rule. And again, when we see here and there an orphan—and in a population like ours, quite a multitude in the aggregate—making her way well in the world, we are liable to make another wrong conclusion, and to say that her success belongs to the general rule, when it is only an exception to it.
Nevertheless—and I have no wish to conceal the fact—it is extremely difficult, if not dangerous, to attempt to form good and useful character in the lap of ease and indulgence. There needs privation and hard struggle, to develope the soul and the body. Even Zion, the city of our God, is represented in Scripture as recruiting her inhabitants only by throes and agonies.
Let it not be thought, then, that our young women in New England—a land of comparative ease, quiet and affluence—can be brought up as they ought to be, without much pains-taking. A century ago, things were, in this respect, more favorable. Then there were struggles; and these were the means of forming a race of men and women, of whom the world might have been proud. Then the young women knew how to take care of themselves; and having been taught how to take care of themselves, they knew how to take care of others.
But "times are altered." Thousands of young women—and the same is true of young men—are trained from the very cradle, scarcely to know any thing of want or difficulty. All is comparative ease, and comfort, and quiet around them; and they are led by ease and indulgence to love to have it so. They are trained, as I have elsewhere said, to depend on the world and its inhabitants for their happiness—not to originate happiness and diffuse it. They are trained, in effect, to believe that happiness, or blessedness, consists—contrary to the saying of our Lord and Saviour—inreceiving; not ingiving.
The timewas, I say once more, when most young women, if thrown by the hard hand of necessity upon their own resources, could yet take care of themselves. No matter how great their poverty or affliction—how large or how deep their cup of adversity or trial—they would, in general, struggle through it, and come out as gold seven times refined. Mothers left with large families of helpless children, and with no means of sustaining them but the labor of their own hands, and daughters left without either parent, would wind their way along in the world, and the world be both the wiser and the better for their influence.
Now, on the contrary, mothers and young women left destitute, are apt to be, of all beings, except the merest infants of the former, the most helpless.
This applies to even a large portion of what are called the poor. In reality, however, we have no poor—or next to none. Our very paupers are comparatively rich. They dress, and eat, and drink, anddwelllike princes. How, then, can they be so very poor?
It is true, that nearly all of our young women are trained to something in the shape of labor. Very few, indeed, are trained to positive indolence. But what is their labor, generally speaking? A little sewing, or knitting, or embroidery; or still worse, in circumstances of poverty or peculiar necessity, a life of spinning, or weaving, or braiding; or some other mechanical occupation which has no tendency to prepare them for true self-dependence.
I have said we have little poverty existing among us. Is it not so? Is not the life of young women in the great mass of our New England families, very far removed from any feeling of want or suffering?
But though not trained in real indigence, they might be trained to self-dependence. They might be, and always ought to be, trained to make their own beds; make and mend their own garments; make bread; and, in fact, to attend to the whole usual routine of duties involved in the care of themselves and a family. But is it so? Are not all these things done, to a vast extent, either by servants, hired girls, or the mother? And if the mother employs her daughters in assisting her, is it not apt to be just so far as isconvenient to herself, and no farther? In short, who can often find the individual mother or daughter, who considers hard work, and care, and obstacles, and difficulties—such as all the world acknowledge are required in order to form good and useful character—as any thing but task work and drudgery—a curse, and not a blessing, to mankind?
True it is—and greatly to be lamented—that many of our young women are not well able, for want of physical vigor and energy, to encounter poverty, and hardship, and obstacles, and suffering. But this deteriorated condition of female character in New England, is owing, in no small degree, to the very kind of education—miseducation, rather—of which I am now complaining. Would mothers do their duty—could they do it, I mean, in the midst of abundance—the state of things would be very much altered for the better.
It is not uncommon in the schools of Europe, especially the female schools, to assign to each older pupil the care of some younger one, for whom she is more or less responsible, particularly as to behaviour. This leads, in no small degree, to self-effort and self-dependence; and might be practised in families as well as in schools, with equally good effects.
But there is another course which is better still, in many respects. It is not unusual in our New England families, where there are several daughters, when they are employed at all—I mean about household concerns—to have them all employed at the same thing at once. Thus, if breakfast is to be prepared, all are to engage in it. One goes this way, another that, and another that; and it sometimes happens that they cross each other's path and come into actual conflict. One goes for one thing, another for another, and so on; and it is not uncommon for two or three to go for the same article.
That three or four females may thus spend all their time for an hour or more in getting breakfast, when one alone would do it much more quietly and a great deal better, and in little more time than is occupied by the whole of them, is not the worst of the evil. The great trouble is, that no one is acquiring the habit of self-dependence. On the contrary, they are acquiring so strong a habit of doing things in company, that they hardly know how to do them otherwise. True, there is pleasure connected with this sort of dependence—and most persons are exceedingly fond of it; but the question is whether it is useful—and not whether it is or is not pleasurable.
Is it best for young women to become so much accustomed toassist, merely, in cooking, and in performing other household offices, as to feel, even at thirty years of age, as if they could do nothing without the aid of others?
I hardly know what a young woman is to do, who finds herself in the dependent condition of which I have been speaking. The habit is not very likely to be broken, so long as she remains in the place where it was formed. I have, however, seen such a habit successfully broken up; in one instance; and perhaps it may be useful to relate it.
A young friend and neighbor of mine, in a family where there were several young men of nearly the same age, happening to find out the evil of doing the smaller work of the morning and evening in this company manner—that what was "every body's business," in the language of a common maxim, "was nobody's"—resolved on a change. He accordingly proposed to his companions to take turns in doing the work. One was to do it faithfully—the whole of it—for a month; another for the next month; and so on. The plan succeeded most admirably. Each became accustomed to a degree of responsibility; and each began to acquire the habit of doing things independently, without the aid of a dozen others.
Perhaps this method might be generally introduced into families, as it has already been, in substance, into some of our boarding schools. It is at least worth while for a young woman who perceives her need of such an arrangement, to attempt it. To be suddenly required to make a batch of bread, or wash the garments, or cook the victuals of a household, and to feel, at twenty years of age, utterly at a loss how to perform the whole routine of these familiar household duties, must be both distressing to herself and painful to others.
Of course it is not desirable to see our young women all orphans, and brought up as domestics, for the sake of having them brought up in such a way as to be good for something, [Footnote: Nor can I wish to see young women trained to do the "buying and selling," instead of men, in order to give energy to their character; although I do not doubt that such a course is often successful. It is related by Mr. Ennis, a highly credible traveller that in Bali and Lombok, two islands lying eastward of Java, the females do all the buying and selling, even to the amount of thousands of dollars. "This probably gives" he says, "to the whole race of people a portion of that boldness and energy for which they are a little distinguished." But then, as he very honestly adds, it gives the women somewhat of a masculine character—a thing which should not by any means be encouraged.] instead of being the poor dependent beings they too commonly are; yet it were greatly to be desired, that without the disadvantages of orphans at service in families, they could have the energy and self-dependence of such persons.
Allow me to relate, for your instruction, a few anecdotes respecting an individual, who was, to all intents and purposes, an orphan, but who was, nevertheless, more useful in life, and more truly happy, than a hundred or a thousand of some of those passive mortals who float through life on the streams of abundance, without feeling the agitation of tide or current, and only discover the misery of such a course when they fall into the gulf of insignificance.
This individual had been abandoned by one of her parents very early in life, and had been also early separated by poverty from the other. She had lived in various families, and had been compelled to hard labor, and sometimes to menial services. At length she married a person as poor as herself, though not so independent. He had been bred in the midst of ease; and was, consequently, indolent. But she was determined on "going ahead" in the world; and her ambition at length roused her husband.
The latter now engaged in hard labor, by the day or the month, among his neighbors; while the wife took care of the concerns at home. This continued for fifteen or sixteen years, before their joint labors procured land enough for the husband to work on, at home. In the mean time, however, they had a number of children; and the mother's cares and labors of course increased. For several of the first of these years, the husband was seldom at home to assist or encourage her, in the summer, except during the Sabbath and occasionally at evening; so that though this diminished the labor of cooking, it left her with her children wholly on her hands, and a great deal of unavoidable labor, such as washing and ironing. The latter work she did for her husband, as well as for her children and herself: and it was therefore an item of considerable moment—especially as she was obliged to bring water for this and all her domestic purposes in pails, the distance of twenty-five or thirty rods, a part of the year, and of ten rods or so, the other part; besides which, she had to pick up much of her wood, for the six summer months, in the woods nearly a quarter of a mile distant, carry it home in her arms, and to cut it for the fire-place. Added to all this, was the labor ofbrewingonce or twice a week; for in those days, when poverty denied cider to a family, the beer barrel was regarded as indispensable.
Nor were her domestic concerns, properly so called, her only labors. She spun and wove cloth for the use of her family, besides weaving for some of her neighbors. She also spun and wove a great deal of coarse cloth, at shares; and thus purchased a large part of the smaller necessaries of the family, and not a little of the clothing.
She continued this course, I say, something like fifteen years. Never, to my knowledge, unless she was actually sick, did she receive any assistance in her labors—not so much as a day's work of washing. And yet under all these disadvantages, she reared—almost without help even from the children themselves, as the difference between the oldest and the youngest was only about eight years—a family of four children.
I have sometimes wondered how she accomplished so much, by her own unaided efforts. But the whole secret lay in her power of self-dependence. She could do every thing alone. She had been trained to it. She was truly independent; as much so, perhaps, as a female can be in this world.
I might have added, that notwithstanding these incessant labors, I have often known her walk four or five miles to church on the Sabbath, and home again in the same manner; that she was neat and orderly; and that she found much time to read and converse with her children, and for social visiting.
Reader, I do not ask you to imitate this veteran matron; for it would be too much to ask of any individual in any age, especially the present. But I ask you, and with great earnestness, to acquire the power of self-dependence—and to do it immediately. Make it a matter of conscience. Bear constantly in mind, that whateverhasbeen done,maybe done. Shame on those who, knowing the value of self-dependence, and having the power to acquire it, pass through life so shiftless, that they cannot do the least thing without aid—the aid of a host of relatives or menials. It is quite time that woman should understand her power and her strength, and govern herself accordingly. It is quite time for her to stand upright in her native, heaven-born dignity, and show to the world—and to angels, even, as well as to men—for what woman was made, and wherein, consists her true excellence.
Females not expected to be reasoners. Effects of modern education on the reasoning powers. Education of former days, illustrated by an anecdote of as octogenarian. Extracts from her correspondence. Difficulty in getting the ears of mankind. The reasoning powers in man susceptible of cultivation indefinitely. Reflections on the importance of maternal effort and female education.
I know not why a young woman should not reason correctly as well as a young man. And yet I must confess that, some how or other, a masculine seems to be often attached to the thought of strong reasoning powers in the female sex. To say of such or such a young woman, She is a bold and powerful reasoner—would it not be a little uncommon? Would it be received as a compliment? Would it not be regarded as a little out of the way—and, to coin a term, as rather unfeminine?
Perhaps the habit of boldly tracing effects up to their causes, and of reasoning upon them, is a little more uncommon among the young misses of our boarding schools and our more fashionable families, both of city and country, than among those of the plainer sort of people. Certain it is, at all events, that the former would be regarded as reasoning persons with much more reluctance than the latter. And yet the former has probably been taught mathematics, and all those sciences which are supposed to develope and strengthen the mental faculties, and give energy to the reasoning powers.
For myself, I have many doubts whether we are really—whether the sex themselves are, I mean—so much the gainers by the superficial knowledge of modern days, which tends to the exclusion, in the result, of that good old fashioned education to house-work, which was given by the mothers of New England, in the days of her primitive beauty and glory. Then were our young women, for the times, reasoning women; then were they good for something. A few of those precious relics of a comparatively golden age, have come down nearly to our own times. I have even seen several of them since the beginning of the nineteenth century. There is one of this description, more than eighty years of age, now living with a son of hers in one of the Middle States. Her sphere of action, however, in the days of her activity, lay not there, but on one of those delightful hills which are found at the termination of the Green Mountain range, in New England. There, in her secluded country residence, among plain people, and with only plain means, with her husband absent much of the time, she educated—not instructed, merely, nor brought up at school, but educated—a large family of children, most of whom live to bless her memory and the world. So devoted was this woman to her household duties, and to the right education of her family, that for eleven of the first andhardestyears of her life, she never for once left the hill on which she dwelt—a mile or so in extent.
And yet this female was a woman of reasoning powers superior to those of most men. She understood, thoroughly, every ordinary topic of conversation, and could discuss well any subject which came within her grasp. She has been for a few years past, one of my most regular and most valued correspondents; and nothing but her great age and great reluctance to put pen to paper, would, I presume, prevent her from writing more frequently than she is accustomed to do. As a specimen of her style, I venture to insert a paragraph or two from her letters. The first was written when she was in her eightieth year.
"I am glad to find you in the enjoyment of health—able to be busily and usefully employed for this and coming generations. I would like, if it was God's will, to be usefully employed insuchways, too; but though I am so greatly favored as to be able tothinkas well as ever, I cannot work with my wonted facility and despatch. I cannot 'labor with my hands,' so as to have 'to give to him that needeth,' because my hands are weak and lame. Once I could fill six sheets of letter paper in a day, without weariness; but now, if I can fill this sheet, decently, intwodays, I am ready to boast of it, as an achievement. When I look back and see my former activity, I wonder if thatwas myself, and am almost ready to doubt my identity. But every thing in its course; first rising into life, then decaying. The world itself is not to stand forever; and of course the things animate and inanimate which are upon it, must partake of its transitoriness."
Again, when she was within a few weeks of eighty years of age, (which was in January, 1838,) she wrote to me in the following vein of playfulness:
"As I can invent nothing new, I must utter such truisms as I have picked up by the way, in almost eighty years; for you say to me,write—and of course I obey, and scribble on. Now I say toyou—and may I say it to Mrs. A. too?—WRITE. Write very sensibly, by the way; for old as I am, I am a sharp critic. I read in my early days Lord Kaimes' Elements, and I have been working up these elements ever since; and if I cannotinvent, I can understand what is fairly presented to me: so you will receive this as a caution. But don't be afraid! I'll tell you another thing, of which perhaps you are not aware: I had rather have one letter warm from the heart, than a dozen from the head."
"I was delighted to think you were pleased with my philosophy—for I never dreamed I uttered any. As to my politics, I was pretty well drilled in the school of Washington, after seeing through the revolutionary struggle; and that was no mean school, I assure you. Washington was a statesman! I see butfewnow; but when I do see one, I make him my best courtesy. And as to my theology, I learned that from the pilgrim fathers."
Now whether those of my younger readers of a new generation, who, perhaps, almost despise both letter writing and reasoning,—whether any of these, I say, will see either form or comeliness—any thing inviting—in these paragraphs, I cannot say. But I can tell them, at once, thatIdo; and it sometimes seems to me, that no greater human benefaction could be offered to mankind, than the application of those principles and methods of female education, in family and school, which would produce such minds and bodies as those of which we have, in the case of this aged woman, an example!
Perhaps, however, it is almost useless to hope for better times, at present, for reasons, among others, which are given in another place by my aged correspondent. "The mischief now-a-days," she says, "is, that every one is on a railroad, impelled by steam power, and cannot stop; so all speak at once, and none hear. What a state is this! But it is true of the world in general. I see but few who are self-possessed. I wonder when I see any one who is so; and I wonder if I am so myself."
But we are not only unwilling to stay to hear—we are unwilling to stay to teach. It would be no hard matter for parents and teachers—especially by beginning early—to establish in the young of both sexes, habits of right reasoning. I am afraid, however, that parents and teachers themselves do not perceive the value of such a habit, and that they are not likely to do so for some time to come.
All, however, which remains for me to do, I must do. This is, to press upon the few whose ear I can gain, the importance of this part of self-education. Do not despise the idea of reasoning on subjects which come before you; nor think it masculine or old fashioned. Not only accustom yourselves to reason, but to reason on every thing. There is almost as great a difference between a young woman who takes all things upon trust, scarcely knowing that she can use her own powers in the investigation of truth, and one who has been, like my worthy and venerable correspondent, in the habit of observing and reasoning seventy or eighty years, as there is between a Sam Patch and a Bowditch—or a Hottentot and a Newton. Would that our young women knew this, and would conduct themselves accordingly!
There is nothing in the wide field of human improvement which better repays the labor of cultivation, than the reasoning powers. Nor is there any thing which does more to perfect and adorn the human being. With the highest and noblest rational powers, the human family—especially the female part of it—seems to me to accomplish least happily the great work for which they were created, than any other earthly existences. The little all of knowledge which pertains to the lower animals, "flows in at once," says Dr. Young; whereas, "were man to live coeval with the sun, the patriarch pupil might be learning still, yet dying, leave his lessons half unlearnt." And yet the former fill, happily, the sphere which God in nature assigned them; while the latter, with all his capacities and powers of reason, conscience, &c., wanders incessantly from his orbit, and must be a most unsightly spectacle to God and holy angels, and all other high and noble intelligences. When will man return to his native sphere, and the moral and intellectual world move in due harmony and happiness, like the physical? When will each moral creation of the Divine Architect, move round its great spiritual centre, with the same beauty, and majesty, and glory, which is manifest in the motions of the physical world? Never, I am sure, till mothers and teachers, who are, as it seems, the authors alike of human happiness and human misery, come up to their appropriate work; and never will there be such mothers, till young women are better trained. And the latter will never be better trained, till the work of education, especially of self-education, is undertaken with much better views of its objects and ends, and with a thousand times more earnestness and perseverance, and I might even sayenthusiasm, than has as yet been manifested.
Why woman has invented so few thing. Abundant room for the exercise of her inventive powers. Hints. Particular need of a reform in cookery. Appeal to young women on this subject.
Is it not strange, that in a world where have been sought out—time immemorial—so many inventions, so few should as yet have been originated by woman?
What have the inventive powers of woman accomplished, even within what have been usually regarded as her own precincts? Has she invented many special improvements in the art of house-keeping? Have the labors of knitting, sewing, making, mending, washing, cooking, &c., been materially facilitated, or rendered more effective, by her ingenuity? Has she done much to advance the important art of bread-making towards perfection?
Why has she not done more? Is genius confined to our sex? Nay, is there even no common ingenuity out of the range of our own walks? Has not the young woman, when she begins the world, the same mental faculties, in number and kind, with the young man? How happens it, then, that the world is filled with inventions, and so few of them originated by woman?
There is a wide range for improvement in that department of human labor which has usually been confined to the female sex—especially in the department ofinfant education. Nor is there any department in which invention would tell with so much efficiency in the cause of human happiness, as in that. Let our young women consider this; and let them resolve on inventing something in their oven particular sphere, which shall turn to the general account.
When I speak of the appropriate sphere of woman, and of her taxing her powers of invention there, I would by no means indulge myself in any narrow or circumscribed views in regard to her field of operation. I should have no sort of objection to the application of her inventive powers to the work of facilitating the usual labors of the other sex—particularly in the departments of agriculture and horticulture.
But I do not perceive any necessity for this. I believe there is work enough—profitable and philanthropic work, too—to task woman's powers of invention for many centuries, without her going out of her appropriate sphere. In the art of cookery especially—which certainly has a great deal to do with physical education and physical improvement—there is great room for the exercise of her inventive powers. This important art is, as yet, entirely in its infancy; and where any progress has been made, it has been chiefly in a wrong direction, and under the guidance of wrong principles. Be it yours, young women, to give this matter a right direction, and to bring it to bear as efficiently on the happiness of mankind, as it has hitherto on their slow destruction.
Advice of Dr. Dwight. Other counsels to the young. Some persons of both sexes are always seeing, but never reflecting. An object deserving of pity. Zimmerman's views. Reading to get rid of reflection. Worse things still.
"Keep your eyes open," was the reiterated counsel of a distinguished theologian, of this country—the late Dr. Timothy Dwight—to a young student of his; and it was, in the main, very wholesome advice. And in so far as it is wholesome for young men, I do not see but it is equally so for young women.
"Your countenance open, your thoughts close, you will go safe through the world"—was the advice of another individual, of less eminence, to a young friend of his; and did it not savor a little too much of selfishness, and perhaps of concealment, it would, like the advice of Dr. Dwight, be worthy of careful consideration. It does not partake quite enough of the gospel spirit and sentiment—"As a man hath received, so let him give." It encourages us to get wisdom, but not to communicate it.
I have said that the advice of Dr. Dwight was, in the main, wholesome. The only objection that can be made to it is, that it gives no encouragement to reflection. Some may suppose it to mean, that observation, orseeing, is every thing. Now there are those who appear to see too much. Theyalwayshave their eyes open. They are never satisfied otherwise. They absolutely hate all reflection.
Of this description of persons—I am sorry to say it—our young women furnish a full proportion. Not a very small number of the female sex are so educated, that it is quite painful for them to turn the current of their thoughts inward:—they will do almost any thing in the world, not absolutely criminal, to prevent it. It cannot, indeed, be quite said, that they observe too much; but it is perfectly safe to say, that they see too much. If they should see much less with their eyes, and the soul were left to its own reflections, the result would be, no doubt, exceedingly happy. Solitude is as necessary as action; and to both sexes.
No person is more pitiable than the individual of either sex—and such individuals are by no means scarce in our own-who cannot be easy unless perpetually running to see some new sight, or, like the Athenians of old, to hear or to tell some new thing; who is no where so happy as when in company, and no where so miserable as when alone.
Zimmerman, in his work on Solitude—a pleasant book, by the way, notwithstanding its gloomy name—has some very appropriate and useful remarks on the advantages of being by ourselves a part of the time, as a means of improvement. Should any of my young readers be sorely afflicted with the disease I have just mentioned-a dread of themselves, or of their own thoughts, rather—I beg them to read Zimmerman. But read him, if you read him at all, very thoroughly.
Some persons read solely to get rid of reflection. Worse than this, even; some persons read, work and play—and I had almost said, go to church, and put themselves in the attitude of prayer and praise—to get rid of themselves and their reflections. Who will show us any good thing? is their constant cry: not, Who will lead us, by external agencies, or by any other means, to sound and useful reflection. Who will show us ourselves? is a cry which, among the young women of New England, as well as those of most other countries, is too seldom heard.
The best advice I can give to such persons—next to that given in the Sermon on the Mount, where they are directed to enter into their closet—is, to read with great care, or rather to study, Watts on the Improvement of the Mind. That is a work which has probably done as much good in the way of which I am now speaking, as any book—the Bible excepted—in the English language.
Universal prevalence of detraction and slander. Proofs Shakspeare. Burns the poet. Self-knowledge, how much to be desired. Reference to the work of Mrs. Opie—to our own hearts—to the Bible.
Let it not be supposed, for one moment, that I consider young women as more generally in the habit of detraction than other people; for I venture on no comparisons of the kind. All I presume to take for granted is, that they are often exceedingly faulty in this respect, and need counsel and caution. Were there any doubts on the latter point, one would think they might very readily be removed by reading the excellent work of Amelia Opie, entitled, "Detraction Displayed; or, a Cure for Scandal."
This detraction or scandal is so common every where in life, that multitudes are addicted to it without the shadow of a suspicion that they are so. Thousands and thousands of young women whose hearts would recoil at the bare recital of deeds of butchery and blood—nay, who would faint at the sight of the severities, not to say cruelties, which, under the guise of parental discipline, or on the plea of authority, are often and hourly inflicted on the bodies of young and old—who will yet rob and murder their unoffending neighbors. For there is no little truth in what Shakspeare says so pungently—
"Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;'Twas mine, 't is his, it may be slave to thousands:But he that filches from me my good name,Robs me of that which not enriches him,And makes me poor indeed."
Nor is there less of truth in what the evangelist says, that "whoso hateth his brother" (and does not a slandererhate?) "is a murderer."
I know it may seem harsh to fasten on any class of the community, and above all, on the young of either sex, the charge of robbery or murder. But is it not proper that the truth should be told? And if there is such a propensity in us to competition in its varied forms, that not only thoughts but words of detraction are, as it were, forever on our thoughtless tongues and lips, and we will not, though often warned, set a guard over the latter, is it not right that we should be represented as the robbers of reputation? And if there is such a disposition to try to be first in the community, and to compel those around us to take the second place—the lower seat—as generates envy and hatred—theseedsof murder—is it not right to warn the young of their danger? And when we find them callous to our representations of the truth—when we find their hearts almost as unmoved as the firm rocks they tread on, notwithstanding our most faithful exhibitions of human depravity, as is evinced by the slander, the detraction and the calumny which every where prevail, and which many must see, as in a glass, to prevail in their own bosoms, while yet their very blood recoils at the tales of imaginary wo from the pen of Bulwer, or some other novelist of kindred fame—is it not proper to remind people of what the evangelist says of hatred, that it is murder?
Burns, the poet, sought some power who would bestow on us the gift "to see ourselves as others see us." Poor Burns! this was as high as he could be expected to go. But how much more to be desired is it, that we could see ourselves asGodsees us? Not indeed at once, lest the very sight should sink us, forthwith, into everlasting night; but by degrees, rather, as we may be able to endure it.
How much to be desired is it, I say, especially by the young, that we might see how prone we are to enter into competition, particular or general, with the community; and how apt we are, with almost every breath, and in almost every conceivable form, to throw the good character, and merits, and success, even, of others into the shade. How can those whose young hearts beat high in anticipation of a good name, even in this world, be willing to jeopardize their character by the commission of so much meanness!
I need not enter into particulars, especially when the invaluable work of Mrs. Opie is before the world. Let me refer those who entertain doubts whether, after all, I am not among the very sort of detractors whom I am censuring with so much severity—and whether, what I complain of in the individual, as abusive on here and there a neighbor or acquaintance, I am not pouring, by wholesale, and with a spirit not a whit better, upon a whole community,—let me refer all such, I say, to that invaluable work. Let me also refer them to themselves.
I am sure no one can carefully examine and analyze her own most secret feelings without discovering in herself the spirit of detraction in some form or other, if it be only in the form of genteel slander, envy or discontent. If there be those who do not find it so with themselves, and who say that however it may be with others, they are not thus circumstanced or thus guilty, I pity them most sincerely, as grossly ignorant of themselves. Such persons I have only and lastly to refer to that volume of Divine Truth, which assures us that the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; and which asks, with the most pertinent significance, not to say eloquence-WHO CAN KNOW IT?
Great value of moments. An old maxim. Wasting shreds of time. Time more valuable than money. What are the most useful charities. Doing good by proxy. Value of time for reflection. Doing nothing. Rendering an account of our time at the last tribunal.
On this subject—the right use of time—sermons, not to say volumes, without number, have been written; and yet it is still true, as an eminent poet has well said, that the individual "is yet unborn who duly weighs an hour."
But my business is not so much to dwell at large on the value of time in its larger divisions, such as days and hours, as to urge, in the first place, an attention to moments. "Take care of the pence," says an old but just maxim, "and the pounds will take care of themselves;" and it is somewhat so in regard to time. Take care of the moments, and the hours and days will take care of themselves.
Not, indeed, that hours and even days are not wasted, and worse than wasted; but the great error is, in disregarding the value and slighting the use of those smaller fragments of which hours, days and years are made. Show me the individual, young or old, who sets any thing like a just value on moments of time, and you will show me the person who values, in a proper manner, its larger divisions.
I have ventured upon this hackneyed subject, because I have often thought that young women—more, if possible, than most other young persons—need to be reminded of the unspeakable importance of moments. It is only a minute or two, many will say, or seem to say; and so they let time pass unemployed. But these leisure moments are frequently recurring; and the more they are slighted and wasted, the more they will be. And what is worse, she who frequently says, It is only a minute-and who makes this serve as an apology for wasting it—will soon extend the same apology to much larger portions of time. The current of human nature is ever downward: let those who love improvement and desire to be improved, remember it is so; and let them ever be mindful, in this respect, of their danger.
There are thousands who suffer themselves to waste shreds of time which might be applied to the attainment of knowledge—valuable knowledge—or to the work of doing good in a world where so much good needs to be done, who would not be willing to waste the smallest sum of money. I would not speak lightly of the habit of wasting money; but it must be admitted by all, that she who wastes, without remorse of conscience, her precious moments which might be usefully employed—if not in action, at least in conversation, or reading, or reflection—and yet would not, on any account, waste a cent of money, is justly chargeable, in a moral point of view, with straining out a gnat, and swallowing a camel.
For it should never be forgotten, that however valuable money may be, time is much more so. It is much more so, even as a means of doing good. There are very many persons, it is true, who seem to think otherwise. They seem not to think that they can do good with any thing but money.
Let us reflect, however, that no charity is more truly valuable, than visiting and aiding the sick, encouraging the depressed, instructing the ignorant, &c. Now is not she who does the latter, more sure of doing good than she who only gives the former? In the latter case, she bestows the very thing which is truly needful; in the former case, she only bestows that which is a means of doing good. These means may or may not be properly applied; of this the donor cannot be certain. But when, instead of giving money or doing good by proxy, she does it herself, the work is done, and done in her own way: and if not done well, she is responsible. She is not made, in that case, responsible for her neighbors.
But isalltime wasted that is not spent in action, as some of my remarks might seem to imply? By no means. I have already spoken, in this chapter, of the use of time for reflection; and in a preceding one, have dwelt more especially on the value of solitude at certain seasons. What I mean to urge is, the folly of trifling away time in absolutely doing nothing. There is a sort of listlessness—or, perhaps, more properly, reverie—in which many indulge, which is as sinful as it is unprofitable; and there are modes of thinking and subjects of thought, which are, to say the least, unworthy of a rational, intelligent and immortal spirit.
I am not sure that there are not times—very short seasons, I mean—during our waking hours, even with those who are in tolerable health, when we best serve God and our fellow men by doing absolutely nothing at all. I am not sure, I say, that thus may not be the case. Still, if it is so, we should be exceedingly careful not to run into excess in this respect—an error which seems to be almost inevitable. For one who spends too little time in doing nothing, it is believed a thousand spend too much in this way. And let it never be forgotten, that not only for every idle word, but for every misspent moment, we are, according to Scripture, to render an account in the day when God will judge the secrets of each heart, according to the gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
How valuable—how immensely valuable—will a few, only, of those moments which we now let slip with so much readiness, appear to us in that great day! What would we not then give for them? Five minutes here, spent in listlessness, or in doing absolutely nothing; five there, spent in idle or wicked conversation; and five there, in unnecessary attentions to our person or dress—how will the ghosts, as it were, of these departed seasons, haunt and torture us! Though willing to give worlds to recall them—not only for the sake of our own souls, but for those of others—thousands of worlds cannot buy them. No, not one solitary five minutes. Happy is she who "wastes not," that she may "want not," here or hereafter.
Reasons for loving domestic life. 1. Young women should have some avocation. Labor regarded as drudgery. 2. Domestic employment healthy. 3. It is pleasant. 4. It affords leisure for intellectual improvement. 5. It is favorable to social improvement. 6. It is the employment assigned them by Divine Providence, and is eminently conducive to moral improvement. The moral lessons of domestic life. A well ordered home a miniature of heaven.
I have incidentally made a few remarks on this subject elsewhere; but its importance demands a further and more attentive consideration.
There are numerous reasons which might be mentioned, why a young woman ought to cultivate a love of domestic life, and of domestic concerns; but I shall only advert to a few of them.
1. Every young woman should have some avocation, or calling. The Jews formerly had a proverb, that whoever of their sons was not bred to a trade, was bred to the gallows; and both Mohammedans and Pagans have maxims among them which amount to the same thing. But is that which is so destructive to the character of young men—I mean the want of proper employment—entirely harmless to young women? It surely cannot be.
True it is, and deeply to be regretted, that there is a fashionable feeling abroad, which is the reverse of all this. Both men and women, in fashionable life, are apt to regard all labor—not only manual, but mental—as mere drudgery. They will labor, perhaps, if they cannot help it; but seldom, if they can. Or at least, this seems to be their feeling when they begin a course of industrious action. Some, it is confessed, finally become so much accustomed to action, that they continue it, either as a matter of mere habit, or because its discontinuance would now render them as miserable as they were in breaking up their natural indolence, and in forming their present industrious habits.
2. She should love the concerns and cares of domestic life, because no ordinary employment contributes more, on the whole, to female health.
I do not mean to say, that there is no other kind of employment whichcouldbe rendered equally healthy with doing house-work; but only that, as a whole, and especially in the present state of public sentiment, this is decidedly the best. Perhaps, in some circumstances, moderate labor—labor proportioned to her strength-in the field, or in the garden, might be healthier, were she trained to it; but as things and customs now are, this can hardly be done.
3. The employment is a pleasant one. It has at once all the advantages of a shelter from the severe cold of the winter, and of seclusion from the sultry sun of summer, and the storms of winter and summer both. [Footnote: Perhaps it may be said, that woman actually suffers more from the extremes of heat and cold, than man, notwithstanding her seclusion, This may be true; but I still think her constitution is not quite as liable toinjury, from the weather, as that of man; besides which, she is rather less liable to accidents.] And not only is the house-keeper favored in these respects, but in many others. A pleasant, well ordered home, is perhaps the most perfect representation of the felicity of the heaven above, which the earth affords. At any rate, it is a source of very great happiness; and woman, when she is what she should be, is thus made a conspicuous agent in communicating that happiness.
Are not, then, home, and the domestic concerns of home, desirable? Are they not agreeable? Or if not, should not every young woman strive to make them so? How then does it happen that an idea of meanness is attached to them? How does it happen that almost every young woman who can, gets rid of them—as almost every young man does of farming and other manual labor.
4. Home affords to young women the means and opportunities of intellectual improvement. I do not mean to affirm, that the progress they can make in mere science, amid domestic concerns, will be quite as great in a given time—say one year—as it might be in many of our best schools. But I do mean to say, that it might be rapid enough for every practical purpose. I might say, also, that young women who study a little every day under the eye of a judicious mother, and teach that little to their brothers and sisters, will be more truly wise at the end of their pupilage, than they who only study books in the usual old fashioned—I might say, rather, new fashioned—manner. It is in these circumstances more strikingly true than elsewhere, that
"Teaching, we give; and giving, we retain."
5. But once more. She who is employed in the domestic circle, is more favorably situated—I mean, if the domestic circle is what it should be—for social improvement, than she could be elsewhere. She may not, it is true, hold so much converse on the fashions—or be a means of inventing, or especially of retailing, so much petty scandal—as in some other situation, or in other circumstances. Still, the society of home will be better and more truly refined, than if it were more hollow, and affected, and insincere—in other words, made up of more fashionable materials. If to be fashionable is to distort nature as much as possible—and if the most fashionable society is that which is thus distorted in the highest degree—then it must be admitted that home cannot always be the best place for the education of young women.
6. But, lastly, young women should love domestic life, and the care and society of the young, because it is, without doubt, the intention of Divine Providence that they should do so; and because home, and the concerns of home, afford the best opportunities and means of moral improvement.
The prerogative of woman—the peculiar province which God in nature has assigned her—has been already alluded to with sufficient distinctness. Let every reader, then, follow out the hint, and ask herself whether it is not important that she should love the place and circumstances thus assigned her; and whether she who hates them, is likely to derive from them the great moral lessons they are eminently designed to inculcate.
Is it asked what moral lessons, so mightily important, can be learned in the nursery and in the kitchen? In return, I may ask, what lessons of instruction are there which maynot,be learned there, and what moral virtues may not there be cultivated? Each family is a world in miniature; and all the necessary trials of the temper and of the character, are usually found within its circle.
Are we the slaves of appetite? Here is the place for learning the art of self-government. Are we fretful? Here we may learn patience: for a great fund of patience is often demanded; and the more so as we are apt, here, to be off our guard, and to yield to our unhappy feelings.
There are thousands who succeed very well in governing themselves—their temper and their passions—while the eye of the world is upon them, who, nevertheless, fail most culpably in this respect, when at home, secluded, as they seem to think themselves, from observation. Hence the importance of great effort to keep ourselves in subjection in these circumstances; and hence, too, the value of a well ordered and happy home.
Are we over-fond of excitement? Home is a sufficient cure for this—or may be made so to those who ardently desire that it should be. Are we desirous of forming our character upon the model of heaven? We are assured, from the Author of Holy Writ, that the kingdom of heaven consists in that simplicity, confidence, faith and love, which distinguish the child.
In short—to repeat the sentence—there is no place on earth so nearly resembling the heaven above, as a well ordered and happy family. If your lot is cast in such a family, young reader, be thankful for the favor, and strive to make the most of it. Not merely as a preparation for standing at the head of such a family yourself; not merely as a preparation for the work of teaching—although for this avocation I know of nothing better; not merely because it is your duty, and you feel that youmustdo it; but because it is for your happiness—yes, even for your life.
All character is formed in the school of trial; all good or valuable character, especially. And—I repeat the sentiment—in no place or department of this school are circumstances so favorable for such a purpose, as what may, emphatically, be termed thehome department.The family and the church are God's own institutions. All else, is more or less of human origin: not, therefore, of necessity, useless—but more or less imperfect. She who would obey the will of God in forming herself according to the divine mode, must learn to value those institutions, in some measure, as they are valued by Him, and love them with a degree of the same love wherewith He loves them.
It will here be seen that I value domestic avocations so highly—giving them, as I do, the preference over all other female employments—not as an end, but as a means. It is because they secure, far better—other things being alike—the grand result at which every female should perpetually aim—the attainment of excellence. It is because they educate us far better, physically, socially and morally—and with proper pains and right management, they might do so intellectually—than any other employment, for the great future, towards which we are every day hastening.
This home school is—after all which has been said of schools and education—not only the first and best school, especially for females, but emphaticallytheschool. It is the nursery from which are to be transplanted, by and by, the plants which are to fill, and beautify, and perfect—if any perfection in the matter is attained—all our gardens and fields, and render them the fields and gardens of the Lord. Ton much has not been—too much cannot be—said, it appears to me, in favor of this home department of female education—especially as a means of religious improvement.
Young women thus trained, would not only be most fitly prepared for the employment which, as a general rule, they are to follow for life, but for every other employment to which they can, in the good providence of God, ever be called. No matter what is to be their situation—no matter even if it is merely mechanical, as in some factory, or as an amanuensis—this apprenticeship in the family is not only highly useful, but, as it seems to me, indispensable. Is not mind, and health, and self-government—yes, and self-knowledge, too—as indispensable to the individual who is confined to a bench or desk, as to any person who is more active? Nay, are they not even much more so—since sedentary employments have, in themselves, as respects mind and character, a downward, and narrowing, and contracting tendency?