The art of taking care of the sick should be a part of female education. Five reasons for this. Doing good. Doing good by proxy. Great value of personal services. How can young women be trained to these services? Contagion. Breathing bad air. Aged nurses. Scientific instruction of nurses. Visiting and taking care of the sick, a religious duty. Appeal to young women.
The art of taking care of the sick, should be considered an indispensable part of female education. Some of the reasons for this are the following:
1. As society now is, there is danger that the number of our young women who fall into a state of indifference, not to say absolute disgust, with the world and with life, will greatly increase, unless the sex can be led, by an improved course of education, to exercise more of that active sympathy with suffering which prompts to assist in relieving it.
2. Nurses of the sick are greatly needed. It not unfrequently happens, that good nurses cannot be obtained, male or female, except by going very far in search for them. And yet it would seem that every one must know theimportanceof good nurses, from the prevalence of the maxim—not more prevalent than just—"A good nurse is worth as much as a physician."
What physician has not, again and again, seen all his efforts fail to do any good, because not sustained by the labors of a skilful, intelligent, faithful and persevering nurse? This condition is one of the most trying that can befall him; and yet, trying as it is, it is his very frequent lot.
3. Females are better qualified—other things being the same—for attending the sick, than males. They not only have a softer hand, and more kindness and gentleness, but they are also more devoted to whatever they undertake; and they have more fortitude in scenes of trial and distress. Their thoughts are, moreover, less engrossed by the cares of business, and by other objects, than those of our sex. They seem formed for days, and months, and years of watchfulness—not only over our earliest infancy, but also over our first and second childhood. And it were strange indeed, if nature, in qualifying them for all this, had not qualified them to watch over us during the few short years that intervene.
There may, indeed, be instances—there certainly are some such—where the physical strength of females, unaided, is not sufficient for the task of which I am speaking. For the most part, however, it is gentleness, and patience, and fortitude, which are most wanted and in these, woman stands pre-eminent.
4. It is often advantageous to have female assistance in taking care of the sick, because it can be afforded at a much lower rate than that of males. There are females who need the avails of these labors for a livelihood; but not having been trained to them, they are not, of course, employed. Hence there is suffering in both ways. The sick suffer in the loss of the needed help, and the indigent woman suffers for want of the avails of that labor which she might have been trained to perform.
One great advantage of being able thus to obtain female attendants at a cheaper rate, is that the sick would be more likely to have the regular attention, or at least, the general care, of the same individual. Thousands and thousands of sick people have died, who might easily have recovered, had they been able to employ a regular nurse. Where a change of nurses takes place almost every day, no one of them feels that degree of responsibility which it is highly desirable that somebody, in this capacity, should feel.
5. I have spoken of the necessity of having young women trained to the art of taking care of the sick, that it may open a door to their sympathies. But it should also be done to open the door to their charities. Such charities as the gratuitous attendance of the sick, where it can be afforded, are among the most valuable which can possibly be bestowed. [Footnote: I mean, here, to speak only of those charities which go tocorrectthe evils, which are in the world; for however great the good we may do in spending time and influence in correcting evil, the same amount of effort, rightly applied, must always do still more good in the way of prevention.] Had we ever so much money to give to the sick and distressed, it might be misapplied; or, at least, applied in a way we should not approve. Even if it were spent to procure good attendance, are we quite sure our own attendance would not be still more useful? Is it not always better to do the good ourselves—provided we are competent to do it—than by proxy; especially, by employing those whom we know little or nothing of? If we do all the good we are able to do, with our own hands, we feel that we have better discharged our duty, than if we had first turned our labor into money, and then applied the money to the same purpose.
But how is it possible, I shall doubtless be asked, that in a healthy community like that of our own New England, young women generally can be trained to understand this office?
There is no great difficulty in the case. Healthy as we are—that is, comparatively so—we have in every neighborhood, if not in every family, ample opportunities for initiating the young into this most indispensable art. It is not expected, nor is it indeed desirable, that they should be fully employed, or made fully responsible, at first. There should be a sort of apprenticeship served, to this trade as well as to any other. Indeed, I hardly know of an occupation or an art, which more demands a long apprenticeship, than this. Put, as I was going on to say, let young women, at a very early age, be gradually inducted into the office. Some young female of their own age, is perhaps sick. Let them solicit their mother and the friends of the diseased, to permit them to be present a part or all of the time, that they may observe and early understand the art of taking care of the sick.
Let the young womansolicither mother, I say; because I apprehend, as I have done all along, that the work of reformation in this matter, no less than in others, must begin with the young woman. She finds herself twelve, fourteen or sixteen years of age, and entering upon a life involving duties and responsibilities, to her before unthought of—and for which she finds herself most sadly unprepared. She believes in the necessity of self-effort. What conscience tells her ought to be done, she decides to do. She goes forward intelligently and what she begins, she resolves, if possible, shall be finished.
Let it not be objected, that the introduction of the young to the sick room will expose them, unnecessarily, either to contagion or the breathing of bad air. For as to contagion, there is probably much less of it in the world than many suppose. But whether there is less or more danger, the best way to do, as the world is now situated, is, to inure ourselves, gradually, to disease. There are in New York and Philadelphia, many very aged persons, who have been employed as professional attendants of the sick during all the visitations of those cities with yellow fever and cholera, who have yet never taken either of those diseases.
It is our fear of taking disease, very often, which makes us take it. The sum total of the danger to the community, as a community, of contracting even contagious disease, will actually be much lessened, rather than increased, by all our young females being trained in the art and practice of nursing the sick. And the same might be said of the danger from bad air; because, the better the nurse is—that is, the more thoroughly and scientifically she understands her profession—the more pains will be taken in regard to ventilating, both the rooms of the sick and of those who are healthy.
I know, very well, that to be a complete professional nurse, requires a good deal of instruction in anatomy, physiology, hygiene and chemistry—to say nothing of botany, and pharmacy, and materia medica. But are not females fully competent to all this? Are they not as much so, to say the least, as males? Besides, the same information which is so indispensable to a nurse, if it should not be much wanted for this purpose, (for some females would not be needed as nurses, to a very great extent,) would be of inestimable value in the early management of a family.
What can be more pitiable, than to see a young widowed mother—say at twenty-five or thirty years of age—in poverty, in a situation remote from neighbors, with three or four children sick with some epidemic disease, while she is utterly unacquainted with the best methods of taking care of them. Let it be supposed, still further, that she is without a physician, and destitute of a nurse, excepting herself. What is she to do? Take care of them herself she cannot, as she may honestly tell you; having never taken care of a sick person, even a near relation, for so much as a single day or night in her whole life!
"I was sick and ye visited me," is represented, moreover, by the Judge of all the earth, as one of the grounds—not of salvation from sin—but of final reward in the world of spirits. But can any one believe our Saviour here means those empty, hollow-hearted visits now so common among us?—just going, I mean, to a sick neighbor's door, and asking how she does—or peradventure stepping in, only to stare at the sufferer, and with a half suppressed breath and a sigh, to hope to comfort her by wishing she may ultimately recover? No such thing. The Saviour, by visiting the sick, meant those kind and valuable offices which are worthy of the name; especially, when performed by the kind and gentle hand of a lovely, intelligent, benevolent and pious woman.
Oh, young woman! hadst thou but a glimpse of one half the angelic offices in thy power, how wouldst thou labor and pray for those qualities and that education, which would enable thee to act up to the dignity of thy nature, in the sight of God, angels and men! How wouldst thou labor to accomplish thy noble destiny.
Futility of the question whether woman is or is not inferior to man. Conversation as a means of improvement. Taciturnity and loquacity. Seven rules in regard to conversation. Reading another means of mental progress. Thoughts on a perverted taste. Choosing the evil and refusing the good. Advice of parents, teachers, ministers, &c. Advice of a choice friend. Young people reluctant to be advised. Set hours for reading. Reading too much. Reading but a species of talking. Composition. Common mistakes about composing. Attempt to set the matter right. Journalizing. How a journal should be kept. Music. Vocal music something more than a mere accomplishment. Lectures and concerts. Studies. Keys of knowledge.
Much has been said, incidentally, in the preceding chapters, of the importance of extended intellectual improvement. Besides, I have treated at large on this subject in another volume, [Footnote: See the Young Wife, chap. xxxiii. p. 292.] to which, as scarcely less adapted to the condition of young women than that of young wives, I must refer the reader. What I have to say in this work, will be little more than an introduction to the views there presented.
The long agitated question, whether woman is or is not equal to man in capacity for intellectual improvement, need not, surely, be discussed in this place. It is sufficient, perhaps, to know, that every young woman is capable of a much higher degree of improvement than she has yet attained, and to urge her forward to do all she can for herself, and to do it with all her might.
I have already mentioned, in preceding chapters, several sources of improvement—especiallyobservationandreflection. But there are many sources of instruction accessible to those who are willing to be instructed; both external and internal. Some of these will now be made the subjects of a few passing remarks.
1. Conversation.—It is seldom, if ever, that we meet with an individual of either sex, whose conversational powers have been properly directed. To develope, cultivate and perfect these powers; seems hardly to be regarded as a part of education. We have left the tongue, like the rest of the frame to which it is attached, and of which it forms a component part, to go very much at random. In some, to be sure, it goes quite fast enough, and continues on the wing quite long enough; but it is too apt to go without rule, measure or profit—that is, comparatively so.
Now, to teach the tongue to go as it should—to teach it how to go, and how long, and when and where to make use of its power—is not, by any means, a small matter, or a very easy task. But ought not all this, and much more, to be done?
The old notion, that taciturnity is wisdom, is now very generally believed to be unfounded. These North American Indians who are most remarkable for this trait of character, are not found to be a whit wiser than other tribes who are more loquacious.
And what is found by observation to be true of nations or tribes, is equally true of individuals. One of the most taciturn persons I ever knew, and who passed with many for a very wise man, because he was very silent and grave, turned out, on a more intimate acquaintance, to be silent because he had nothing of importance to say.
Nor is loquacity uniformly a mark of wisdom. Some, indeed, talk a great deal, because they have a great deal to say: you will find a few such in a thousand. Others talk incessantly, either because they have nothing else to do, or will do nothing else. They do not, indeed, talk sense, or produce ideas; for sense and ideas they have not. At least, their sense is not common or sound sense: and as for their ideas, they are all superficial or borrowed.
Immense is the good which may be done in society, by conversation. There is hardly an art or a science, theelementsof which, to say the least, may not be inculcated orally; that is, by conversation. But it is not necessary that our conversation, in order to be useful, should always be very scientific. There are a thousand topics of interest that have never yet been dignified with the name of science, which might yet be discussed in our familiar circles to a very great extent, and with both profit and pleasure.
When our conversation takes the form of story-telling, it is of still more absorbing interest, than when it is confined to mere ordinary colloquy. Here, again, a vast field of improvement opens upon our view. Few acquirements are more valuable to a young woman who expects ever to be at the head of a school or a family, than the art of relating a story well; and yet, owing to the neglect of this matter in education, no art, perhaps, is more uncommon.
A few leading principles, duly attended to, will, it is believed, enable those who have already had some teaching on this subject, to turn their conversation to better advantage; as well as aid, in the work of reformation, those who have not been duly instructed.
1. We should enunciate correctly, and speak distinctly. Few persons do this; and hence much of the pleasure which might otherwise be had, is lost.
2. We should endeavor, as far as in us lies, to speak with grammatical correctness. The custom of having two sorts of language—one for composition and the other for conversation—appears to me to have a very ill tendency. I would have no one converse in a language he does not understand; but I would have every one converse correctly.
3. We should endeavor to select such topics as are not only profitable to one party—either ourselves or those with whom we are conversing—but such also as are likely to be acceptable. It is of little use toforce a topic, however great, in our judgment, may be its importance.
4. Conversation should be direct—though not confined too long to one point or topic. But while one subject is up, you should know how to keep it up; or if the thoughts of either party wander, you should know how to return to it, without too much apparent effort.
5. Conversation, like every thing else under the sun, should have its time and place. It is as wrong to converse when we ought to read, or study, or labor, or play, as it is to read or play when we ought to converse. Social life has a great many vacancies, as it were, which good, and sprightly, and well chosen conversation should fill up.
6. Conversation should be sprightly. If we converse not in this way, we might almost as well dispense with conversation entirely. We might nearly as well resort to the dead for society;—to the dead, I mean, who speak to us through the medium of their works. Of course I refer to conversation in general.
7. We should remember our responsibilities. "For every idle word that men speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment"—said He who is to preside at the dread tribunal of which he spake: and an apostle has told us, that "our conversation should be in heaven;" that is, as I understand it, should be heavenly in its nature.
II.Reading.—There are, as I suppose, few young women of the present day, who do not read more or less; and to whom reading is not, in a greater or less degree, a source of intellectual improvement. Their reading is, however, governed chiefly by whim, or fancy, or accident—or at most, by taste. Some read newspapers only; some read only novels; some read every thing, and therefore nothing: Each of these methods—if methods they can be called—is wrong.
But shall not a young woman be governed by her taste? Is that to be turned wholly out of doors?
My reply is, that though our taste is not to be turned out of doors, wholly, it is, nevertheless, a very imperfect guide, and needs correction. Our intellect, like our moral and physical likes and dislikes, is, as I have elsewhere said, perverted by the fall. I will not say that our moral, intellectual and physical tastes are perverted in an equal degree; for I do not think so. Still there is a perversion, greater or less, of the whole man—in all his functions, faculties and affections. As a general rule, when left to our own course, we choose that food, for body, mind and soul, which, though it may be pleasant at first, is bitter afterwards. "There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof is death."
Still it may be said—If our intellectual tastes are perverted, how are they to be set right? Why not, I ask, in the same way that our moral taste is—by the word and truth of God? "To the law and to the testimony."
The application of the doctrines I am now advocating, belongs, most properly, to parents and teachers; religious teachers, especially. Parents, aided by ministers of the gospel, and perhaps the family physician, should decide for the young, individually, what means of intellectual improvement are best for them, all things considered; what books, society, studies, &c. But I must confine my remarks to books and reading.
It is not difficult to decide what the tastes of a child shall be, in regard to reading. I will not, indeed, say that a parent may at once do every thing she desires; but she may do a great deal. The child's moral and intellectual tastes are about as fully at her command, as its physical ones; and who shall say that her power to the latter respect, is second to any but that of the Creator?
It is not for parents, however, that I am now writing; but for those whose taste, by the aid or neglect of parents, is already formed. If formed on the basis of the word and truth of God—if they are inclined to prefer the best books and reject the worst—then all is well but if not, then the work of self-education is, in this respect, to set that right which has hitherto been wrong.
Hardly any thing can be of greater importance in this matter, than the assistance of a friend, in whom we can confide, in making our selection. This is as necessary in regard to newspapers, as to books. She who reads newspapers, indiscriminately, will derive little benefit from them; as her head will be filled with such a mixture of truth and falsehood, and wisdom and folly, as will be likely to do her more harm than good.
Few will read to advantage, who have not their set hours for reading. It is true, that unforeseen circumstances may, at times, break in upon our arrangement, and impede our progress in knowledge; but if we have no arrangement or system at all, we shall find our progress impeded still more.
Do not read too much. The world is almost deluged with books. Not only see that your selection is as it should be, in regard to the character of the books, but beware of having too many of them. A few, well read and understood, will be more valuable.
The importance of sometimes reading aloud, has been mentioned. It has other advantages, however, than merely the exercise of the lungs. With a proper monitor at hand, it may be made a useful aid in correcting our enunciation, as well as in improving our conversational powers. Reading is but speaking the thoughts of others instead of our own; and she is the best reader—and indeed most likely to be made wiser by reading—who speaks the most naturally. Our reading should be such, generally, that a friend in an adjoining room would find it difficult to tell whether we are reading or conversing.
III.Composition.—Next to conversation and reading, as a means of intellectual improvement, I place composition. This is nothing, either more or less—at least it should not be—than talking on paper. As reading is merely talking over the thoughts of others—conversing in another's words—so composition is merely conversing with others through the medium of a piece of paper.
It is a most delightful consideration, that it has pleased God to secure to us a written language. Are we grateful enough for the gift? Do we think enough of the privilege of conversing in this way with friends in every quarter of the globe?
One of the most valuable kinds of composition is letter-writing, or epistolary correspondence. This, above all, should be in the style of familiar though well directed conversation.
I wish, with all my heart, that people could get rid of the idea, that there should be one style for conversation, and another for writing. Here is the stumbling-stone on which youth of both sexes have been stumbling, time immemorial; and on which, I fear, many will be likely to stumble for some time to come.
Could they get rid of this strange belief—could they perceive, most clearly, that composition is nothing more than putting our thoughts on paper, instead of delivering them by word of mouth—and that conversation is nothing less than composition, except that the words are written as it were in the air, instead of being placed on a sheet of paper—how soon would the complaints about the tediousness of composition cease to be heard. Some young women, of sixteen, or eighteen, or twenty years of age, appear to regard letter-writing as childish. They talk of having once been so foolish as to be addicted to the practice; but as having now outgrown it. Such persons have no conception of the vast importance of this species of composition, as an aid to correct thinking and correct writing. The more we think, the more and better we are able to think; and the more we write, the more thoughts we have which we wish to put down.
One valuable form of putting down thoughts—next to letter-writing—consists in keeping a journal. I often wonder why our families and schools should encourage almost every thing else, rather than letter-writing and journalizing. Our familiar letters to familiar friends, might often consist of extracts from our daily journals.
But here, again, there has been great error. Journals have usually consisted of the driest details, or exteriors of events. The young should be encouraged to record their feelings in them; their hopes and fears—their anticipations and their regrets—their joys and their sorrows—their repentances and their resolutions. Such journals, with old and young, could not fail to advance the intellect, even if they should not improve the heart.
IV.Music.—Attention to music-vocal music, especially-should always form a part of female education. The day is gone by, as I trust, when it was customary to say that none but thegiftedcould acquire this accomplishment. It is now, I believe, pretty well understood, that all persons may learn to sing, as well as to read. Not, of course, equally well, in either case; but all can make a degree of progress.
I have called singing an accomplishment; but it seems to me to be much more. Its bearing upon the health, and even upon the intellect, is very great. Even its moral tendency is by no means to be overlooked.
The value of music, to soothe the feelings and cast out the evil spirits which haunt the path of human life, has never yet received that measure of attention which it deserves. Even in those parts of continental Europe, where all the peasants sing, and are accustomed to fill the air with their cheerful and harmonious voices as they go forth to prosecute their daily tasks, no less than in their families—even there, I say, the full power and value of music are not understood. They make it, by far too much, a sort of sensual gratification. Let it be redeemed, for a better and a nobler purpose. Let it become a companion of science and literature, as well as of industry and of virtue—and of religion, still more than all.
V.Lectures and Concerts.—Lectures are often useful, even when they do no more than afford an agreeable means of passing an hour's time. They are not indispensable to those young women who love study; but are more useful as a means of exciting inquiry in those who have very little fondness for it. Besides, there are lectures, at times, on subjects which cannot be found in books; and in such cases they may be specially useful to all.
As for concerts, and parties of all sorts, attended as they usually are in the evening, there are many objections to them—though, as society is now regulated, it may not be best to denounce them altogether. Home is the proper place for young women, as well as for other honest people, after dark; at least this ought to be the general rule.
If lectures, concerts, &c., could be attended in the afternoon, there would be fewer objections to them. Even then, however, there would probably be more or less of intellectual dissipation connected with their attendance. It is to be regretted that time, which is so valuable, cannot be better employed, than in mere running abroad, because others are going.
VI.Studies.—If the young woman could have some judicious friend, male or female, to advise her what books to read, and what studies to pursue—and if the non-essentials in dress, &c., were discarded—I cannot help thinking that life is long enough, to give her an opportunity to become mistress of every thing which is usually thought to belong to a good English education. I will venture to say, that there is hardly a girl of twelve years of age, whose circumstances are so unfavorable, as to prevent her from thus acquiring the keys of knowledge by the time she is twenty-five years of age, could she be directed in a proper manner.
I have spoken of acquiring thekeysof knowledge, as if this were the first object of a course of studies. And such I regard it. I know, indeed, that we reap some of the fruits of almost all our acquired knowledge, immediately: still, the greater part remains for years to come.
No young woman should fail to be thoroughly versed in spelling, reading, writing, composition, grammar, geography and arithmetic—and as much as possible, in anatomy, physiology, hygiene, chemistry, botany, natural history, philosophy, domestic and political economy, civil and ecclesiastical history, biography, and the philosophy of the Bible—to say nothing of geology, and the higher branches of mathematics.
One word more in regard to your handwriting. Nothing is more common, in these days, than to write in a most illegible manner—a mere scribble. Now, whatever young men may do in this respect, I beseech every young woman to avoid this wretched, slovenly habit. Hardly any thing appears more interesting to me, in a young woman, than a neat, delicate, and at the same time plain style of hand-writing.
Do not pursue too many studies at once: it is the most useless thing that can be done. Your knowledge, should you get any, would in that way be confused and indefinite, instead of being clear, and practical, and useful to you. I would never pursue more than one or two leading sciences at one time; and in general, I think that one is better than more. If you pursue more than one, let them be such as are related; as geography and history.
Let me say, in closing this chapter, that the great end of all intellectual culture, is to teach the art ofthinking, and ofthinking right. To learn to think, merely, is to rise only one degree above the brute creation. To learn to thinkwell, however, is noble; worthy of the dignity of human nature, and of the Author of that nature.
Improvement in a solitary state. The social relations. Mother and daughter. Father and daughter. Brother and sister. The elder sister. Brethren and sisters of the great human family. The family constitution. Character of Fidelia. Her resolutions of celibacy. In what cases the latter is a duty. A new and interesting relation. Selection with reference to it. Principles by which to be governed in making a selection. Evils of a hasty or ill-judged selection. Counsellors. Anecdote of an unwise one. Great caution to be observed. Direction to be sought at the throne of grace.
Were there but a single individual in the wide world, that individual, with the laws that woman now has to guide her—laws internal and external, natural and revealed—would be susceptible of endless and illimitable improvement. She might make advances every day—and it would he her duty to do so—upward toward the throne of God, and towards the perfection of him who occupies it.
But if much might be done by an individual in a solitary state, how much more may be accomplished in the social state in which it has pleased our Heavenly Father to place us? It is difficult to turn our eyes in any direction, without being met by numerous and striking proofs of divine wisdom and benevolence; but if there be any one thing in the whole moral world, short of the redemption by Jesus Christ, which overwhelms me with wonder, and leads me to adore more than any thing else, it is the divine wisdom and benevolence, as manifested in the social state allotted to man.
How interesting—how exceedingly so—the relation between a mother and a daughter? And how many blessings—deficient as many mothers are in knowledge and love—are showered upon the head of a young woman, through maternal instrumentality! In no case; however, is this relation more interesting, than when the young woman is just beginning to act for herself. Then, if ever, should she avail herself of them. She knows little of the world before her—either of the dangers on the one hand, or the advantages on the other. Of these, however, the mother knows much. Let the daughter value her society and good counsel above all else human, and lay hold of it as for her life.
How interesting, too, the relation between a wise and good father, and a virtuous and affectionate daughter! I am most struck, however, with this relation—and most reminded of the divine goodness in its institution—when I see a daughter ministering to the wants, moral and physical, of a very aged relative, parent or grandparent; one who is superannuated or sick.
There are, in civilized society—and above all, where the rays of the blessed gospel of the Son of God have been let in—scenes on which angels themselves might delight to gaze, and on which I have no doubt they do gaze with the most intense delight. Would that such scenes were still more frequent! Would that filial love was always what it should be, instead of degenerating into cold formalities.
"How have I been charmed;" says Addison, "to see one of the most beauteous women the age has produced, kneeling to put on an old man's slipper." And so have I. It is a sight which revives one's hopes of fallen nature. No matter if the infirmities of the parent are the consequences of his own folly, vice and crime, the same soft hand is still employed, day after day—and the same countenance is lighted up with a smile, at being able thus to employ it.
But when to the tenderest love on the part of a young woman in this relation, and to the kindest efforts to promote the temporal happiness and comfort of those whom she holds dear is joined a love for the mind and soul; when every opportunity, is laid hold of with eagerness, to inform, and improve, and elevate—and this, too, though the subject of her labor is the most miserable wreck of humanity of which we can conceive; when to works of love are added the warmest prayers, at the bedside and elsewhere, for Almighty aid and favor; the interest of the scene is indescribable. It needs a more than mortal pen or pencil to portray it.
There are other relations of society—relations of the young woman, I mean, in particular—which are of great importance and interest. Among these, are the relations of brother and sister.
Perhaps I am inclined to make too much of the passage of Scripture—already noticed in another chapter—where Cain is said to have been set over Abel, in the very language which is used to signify the superiority of Adam over Eve. And yet it must mean something. There is a mutual dependence between brothers and sisters of every age, which should result in continual improvement—intellectual, moral and religious. The duties involved in this relation, however, will be more especially binding on elder brothers and sisters; and as it appears to me, above all, on elder sisters. Indeed, in this respect, it is impossible for me to be mistaken. An elder sister is a sort of second mother; and she often fulfils the place of a mother. Oh, how important-how sacred—the trust committed to her keeping.
I have seen the care of a large family devolve, by the death of the mother, upon the elder daughter. Instead of her being disheartened at all, I have known her to go forward in the pathway of duty—sensible, at the same time, of her dependence on her Heavenly Father—and not only instruct the other children, but "train them up," in same good degree, "in the way they should go."
Do you think I respected or loved this young woman the less, because she was thus early a house—keeper, a matron, and a mother? Do you think I esteemed her the less, because—exclusive of the common school—she had no seminary of instruction? Her education was a thousand times more valuable than that of the fashionable routine of the schools, without the kind of discipline she had. A world whose females were all educated in the family schools—and especially in the school of affliction, and poverty, and hardship—would be incomparably a better world than one whose young women should "wear soft clothing," and live in "kings' courts"—who should be educated by merely fashionable mothers, amid ease and abundance, and "finished" at the institute or the boarding school.
Let me not be understood, in all this, as undervaluing kind mothers, and boarding schools, and comforts—and luxuries, even—in themselves considered. All I mean to discourage, is, a reliance on them, to the exclusion of other things of more importance. If we could have the latter in the first place—difficulties, hard-ships, hard labor, and adversity—and upon these engraft the former, I should like it exceedingly well. What I dislike is, not ornament, in itself, but ornament on that which is not worth ornamenting; and above all,nothing but ornament.
Let every young woman whose eye meets these paragraphs, rejoice, if she has younger brothers or sisters—or even if she has brothers or sisters at all. The younger may do something for the older, as well as the older much for the younger. And if she is without either, there are probably other and remoter relatives for whom something may be done.
I have alluded, elsewhere, to grand-parents There are usually uncles, aunts and cousin's—sometimes in great numbers. There is much due to these. I know, very well, that out over-refinement, in an over-refined and diseased society, says otherwise, of late; and that our time is expended more and more—especially that of females—on our own dear selves to the exclusion of remoter relatives. But this should not be the case. Whether we have brethren or sisters, properly so called, together with other more distant relatives, or not,we have brethren and sisters. The world is but a great family; and all are brethren, or ought to be so. We should love all—even our enemies—as brethren; but we should love, with the deepest and most enduring affection, those who love God most ardently. "My mother and brethren are they that hear the word of God and do it," said the Saviour; and it is only in proportion as we possess his spirit, that we shall be found to belong, in the truest sense, to his family.
The ties of which I have been speaking, in the preceding paragraphs, will have but poorly answered their purpose, if they have not had the effect to raise us to this universal love referred to by the Saviour. For this they were chiefly instituted; and to this, in the best state of human society, do they tend. They do not lead us to love relations, usually so called, any less: neither did they have this effect on Jesus. But they lead us to love the world at large, more.
If young women would have the spirit of our Lord and Saviour—or if they would be instruments in his hands of hastening the glad day of his more complete reign on the earth and in the hearts of his intelligent family—they must strive to come up to this love of the human family. It is to elevate them to this love, I again say, that the family institution, with all the interesting relations which grow out of it, was instituted. When it has accomplished this work, though it will not cease to be valuable, in the abstract, it will be less valuable relatively—because it will absorb a smaller proportion of our thoughts and affections, and leave a larger proportion for the world in general, and its Creator.
I have quoted, elsewhere, the sentiments of Addison, in regard to the filial affection of daughters. In the same paper, this interesting writer embodies his views on this subject, in the character of a young woman by the name of Fidelia, whose devotion to her father he describes as follows:
"Fidelia is now in the twenty-third year of her age; but the application of many admirers, and her quick sense of all that is truly elegant and noble in the enjoyment of a plentiful fortune, are not able to draw her from the side of her good old father. When she was asked by a friend of her deceased mother to admit the courtship of her son, she answered that she had a great respect and gratitude to her for the overture in behalf of one so near to her; but that during her father's life, she would admit into her heart no value for any thing which should interfere with her endeavors to make his remains of life as happy and easy as could be expected in his circumstances. The happy father has her declaration that she will not marry during his life, and the pleasure of seeing that resolution not uneasy to her."
Now, though I am not quite satisfied with the selfishness of the father, in this case—nor with the notion of Fidelia, that the particular friendship of another would interfere materially with her filial duties—yet I do not undertake to say that there are no cases in which a young woman has the right—the moral right—to make resolutions not unlike that made by Fidelia. It does not seem that her resolution to neglect the society of others for the sake of discharging an important filial duty, was for a longer period, than during the short life of a very decrepid old father.
I have introduced this subject in this place, as the preface to a series of remarks on that particular relation which every young woman—except, perhaps, a few who are situated like Fidelia—ought to be prepared to sustain, and to sustain well. Indeed, I consider this to be paramount, at a suitable age, to every other; and that no duty can, as a general rule, be more obligatory.
He who instituted the law of marriage, has not, indeed, condescended to say how early or in what circumstances this command must be yielded to, or obeyed; but, as a general rule, he requires it to be obeyed, in some form or other, and at some time or other. Or, to express the views I entertain more correctly, I should say, that no young woman, in ordinary circumstances, has a right to resolve to neglect the subject forever—or to say she never will marry. She is to consider the command of the Creator as obligatory, as a general fact, on the whole human race. She must remember, moreover, that if it is binding on the whole, it must be so on the individuals composing that whole.
On these principles the education of every young woman should, as I think, be conducted; and if, by the neglect of parents, masters or guardians, it has not been so, then it should be the aim of the young woman herself, in her efforts at self-education, to supply what has been by others omitted. Some of the items in this work of education have been alluded to—not only in the chapter on "Domestic Concerns;" and in that on "Economy," but elsewhere. My purpose at the present time, is merely to speak of the selection of her society with reference to her future state of life.
This is a subject of the highest importance to the happiness—present and future—of every young woman. The marriage relation, considered only as a means of completing the education of the parties, is one of immense importance. But it is of still greater importance, in reference to other duties which it involves. Hence it requires much forethought and reflection. Let me prevail with you, therefore, when I urge upon you the following considerations:
1. Never think for one moment of the society of any other than a good man. Whatever may be his extrinsic endowments—wit, beauty, talent, rank, property or prospects—all should be as nothing to you, unless his character is what it should be. Of course, I am not encouraging you to look for angelic perfection or purity on this earth; but do not make too many allowances, on the other hand, for frailty. A close examination, as with the microscope, will disclose irregularity and roughness on the most polished or smooth surface: how then will that surface appear which is uneven without the microscope? If it were possible for your associate for life to come apparently near celestial purity and excellence, a closer acquaintance would, most undoubtedly, convince you that he was of terrestrial origin. Do the best you can, therefore, and you will do ill enough.
2. It is not sufficient, however, that the friend you seek should be good—that is, negatively so: he must do good. Multitudes, in these days, pass for good men because they do no harm; or because, at most, they maintain a good standing, and are benevolent in the eye of the world. I know of more than one person in the world, who gives his property by thousands, annually—and whose praise is in all the churches—who never yet gave any thing worth naming, in his life, if the gospel rule on this subject is the correct one—that the widow whoof her penurycast into the treasury two mites, in reality cast in more than all they who oftheir abundancebestowed large and liberal sums.
Let your associate, therefore, be a doer of good, in deed and in truth. This is said, however, with the supposition that you are so yourself; for if I have not already convinced you that the great end for which you were sent into the world is to do good, I shall not expect to do so by any remarks which could be thrown in here. If you are still out of the way, it is to be feared you will remain so: nor shall I expect you—for reasons to be seen presently—to seek the society of those who do not possess the same turn of mind.
3. It is highly desirable that the individual with whom you associate for life, should be something more than merely a good man. This, however, does not explain my meaning. For are there not many of the most excellent persons in the world, whom you would not willingly take for a daily companion? Do you not desire likeness in opinion, taste, purpose, &c.? Might not the two very best persons in the world be unhappy in each other's constant society, if they were exceedingly unlike each other?
In the establishment, then, of this interesting relation, seek by all means an individual who appears to entertain views of social life, as much as possible, like your own. Does he find his happiness in going abroad, or in lounging? Is he impatient in the society of children? Is he a great friend of parade and excitement? And are you the reverse of all this? Do you love most the quiet and retirement of home—and to be surrounded by infancy and childhood? Do you dread, above almost all things in the world, excitement and parade?
Does your friend hate nothing so much as his own thoughts and reflections? Does he dread, also, like the cholera or the plague, all efforts at mental or moral improvement? Does he hate improving conversation—and above all, those books and associates which have the improvement and elevation of the body and spirit, for their great and leading object? And have you a different taste—entirely so? Do you live—do you eat, drink, sleep, wake, exercise, dress, labor, play, converse, read, and think, and pray that you may become wiser, and better, and holier?
In short, is the ultimate object of the one, the gratification of self; and does all, with him, terminate in the external; while the other seeks primarily, in all things, the improvement, the holiness and the happiness of herself and others? How can such persons be suitable companions for each other? Can two walk together, says the Scripture, unless they are agreed—that is, agreed as to the main points and purposes of life?
I know of no being whom I so much pity, as a young woman who, believing, perhaps, that a "reformed rake," once handsome, or it may be, a wit, makes the best companion, becomes chained for life to a stupid, shiftless creature—one whose energies of body and soul are exhausted, and seem unsusceptible of being renovated or restored—one, too, with whom, in that more intimate acquaintance which time and circumstances afford her, proves to be totally unworthy of her hand or her heart!
I have said that I know of no being so pitiable, as a young woman thus situated. I know of none, I mean to say, except a young man in similar circumstances. Did the effects of these unhappy companionships terminate on themselves, the misfortune would not be so great. Woman, at any rate, with her fortitude, might endure it. But it is not usually so; and here is the great evil. Misery is inflicted on a new generation; one that has done nothing to deserve it.
Let me entreat my readers, therefore, while I urge them to regard the companionship of which I am now speaking as a matter of duty, to be exceedingly careful in their selection of a companion. Choose; but do not be in haste. On the wisdom of your choice, much more depends than you can now possibly imagine:—it is for your life. Would you could realize this truth: for though so old and so often repeated that it may appear rather stale, it is not the less true for its age.
Have nothing to do, above all, with those who despise your sex. There is a large number of young men—much larger, indeed, than you may be aware, who have caught the spirit, not to say sentiments, of Byron, in regard to woman.
They havecaughtthem, I say; but this, perhaps, is not so. I will only say theyhavethem. I know not how, as a general fact, they came by them. I can only say that they are often very early imbibed; and that they grow with their growth, and strengthen with their strength. Would to Heaven this utter skepticism in regard to female worth and purity could be removed; or rather prevented. It is the bane of social life—as I could show, were I disposed to do so, by a thousand illustrations.
As a general rule—to which, perhaps, there are some exceptions—it is according to human nature to suspect others to be wanting in those virtues which we are conscious we are wanting in ourselves. Find a person wanting in sterling integrity, and he is the very person to be found complaining of the want of it in others. I will not say that his complaints are not sometimes—indeed, quite too often—just; I only say, that whether just or not, neither his suspicions nor complaints prove them to be so.
Beware, then—I beseech you, beware—of the young man who is ever prating about the innate worthlessness, not to say vice, of your sex. I do not say, reject him forever, simply on suspicion; for that would be to go to the other extreme. But though I have admitted that there may possibly be exceptions in regard to the general rule I have laid down, I also insist that they are rare. Therefore, I again say, be wary in forming your friendships—and especially so, in suffering them to become more and more intimate.
Precisely in these circumstances is it, that you may derive immense benefit from a discreet female friend. But in this, too, you must be deliberate, and use great judgment; for there are many whose views on this subject are such as entirely to disqualify them for the office of an adviser. I remember hearing a lady of great gravity—though of much good sense in all other respects—say, that she thought the friends of a young woman were much more competent to select a companion for her, than she was to make the selection for herself. I was so struck with the remark, that not knowing but I misapprehended her meaning, I ventured to inquire whether she really meant to say, that other people could judge better in regard to selecting a companion for life, than the parties most concerned in the choice. To which she answered, Yes, without hesitation; and immediately went upon a defence of her opinion. I was as little pleased, however, with the defence, as with the assertion; for the whole thing carried absurdity on the very face of it. It cannot, surely, be so; it is contrary to the very nature of things.
I cannot help counselling you to be as wary of such an adviser, as of the friend to whom she would direct your attention. The choice—the final choice—be it never forgotten, rests on you: because on you rests the responsibilities. While, therefore, you seek, with great earnestness, for advice, seek it as advice only. Neither seek, nor admit, in any case, a dictator.
Be it also ever remembered, that it is your duty to sift, with great care, the opinions and views of one in whom you are daily becoming more and more deeply interested. If it be even true, that woman isnotdistinguished for perseverance, let this fact only stimulate you to use what powers of perseverance you possess. Though you are not to be held responsible for the exercise of talents which you have not, youareto account for what talents you have; and fearful may be the reward of the individual who is found delinquent in the matter before us; fearful in this life, even were it possible to escape punishment in the life to come. Let a comparison, then, be faithfully made of your views on all important subjects:—as female superiority or inferiority; selfishness and benevolence; dress and equipage; education of ourselves and others; discipline—its means, instruments and ends; household management; amassing property; the chief end of human existence; particular duties, &c.
While I would encourage every young woman to look forward to married life as a matter of duty, I am very far from desiring to encourage that indiscriminate conversation, which, among young women, is rather common. Let it be discussed by the young, chiefly in the company of their parents. Above all, let not females be found talking with great interest on this subject in the presence of the other sex. Such conversation, in such circumstances, is evil, and only evil, in its tendency.
Parents may prevent this mistake in young women, if they will. The mother, at least, can prevent it. Where mothers manage the matter as it ought to be managed, you will not find daughters, on going into company, so deeply interested in these matters that nothing seems so to loosen the tongue, light up the countenance, and brighten the eye, as conversation about the latest engagements and marriages, and nothing so much or so quickly interest them in a newspaper, even a religious one, and that, too, on the Sabbath, as the list of marriages. Alas! do mothers or daughters know what are the practical common sense inferences from this conduct, where it greatly abounds.
Remember, moreover, in this matter, as well as in all other matters which concern your own happiness and the happiness of others—in this matter, I might say, which concerns your happiness more than almost all others—to seek the direction of that Being who has said, "If any lack wisdom, let him ask of God." You cannot, surely, obey this first injunction on the human race, without first and always, at every step of your course, seeking for his approbation. You cannot, in one word, be concerned in a duty which may involve the destinies—present and eternal—of millions and millions of human beings, without looking upward toward the throne of God, and soliciting, with all the humility, as well as confidence, of the most devoted child of an earthly parent, that wisdom and guidance which are to be found in all fulness in the Father of lights, and which, when properly apprehended, can never mislead you.
Importance of progress. Physical improvement a means rather than an end. The same true of intellectual improvement. The general homage which is paid to inoffensiveness. Picture of a modern Christian family. Measuring ourselves by others. Our Saviour the only true standard of comparison. Importance of self-denial and self-sacrifice. Blessedness of communicating. Young women urged to emancipate themselves from the bondage of fashion, and custom, and selfishness.
After all I have said of the importance of physical, intellectual and social improvement and progress, it ismoralprogress for which we were, pre-eminently, created. The great end of Christianity itself—to use the words of a learned and eloquent divine—is, to make men better than they were before: but whether or not this expresses the entire truth, one thing is certain—that wherever Christianity fails to make man better, it fails of accomplishing its whole intention respecting him. Perhaps the apostle expressed the idea I would inculcate, in the fewest words and in the clearest manner, when he required his converts to "grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."
Mere physical improvement—or even physical perfection, were it attainable—would hardly be worth the pains, if it were any thing more than a means to an end. We might study the subject of health, and practice its excellent rules with the utmost zeal and faithful conscientiousness; and yet it would hardly prove a blessing to us, if it only gave us the more efficiency in the service of the world, the flesh and the devil. And the same, or nearly the same, may be said of intellectual improvement and progress. Though the general tendency of both—when conscience is properly trained and the heart set right—is beneficial, yet it is not necessarily so, without a right heart and correct conscience. Satan is not wanting—so to speak—in intelligence or physical energy.
Physical and intellectual development and progress, therefore, are little more than means to secure an end. If they prove to be what it was the original intention of the Creator they should be, they are eminently conducive to our highest interests, both as respects this world and the world which is to come. If otherwise, they do but accelerate, and in the end aggravate, our doom. They tend but to make our condemnation the more sure, and the more dreadful.
I have urged, elsewhere, the importance of conscientiousness in every thing we do: let me especially recommend you to make continual progress in excellence or holiness, a matter of conscience. Do not be continually measuring yourself—above all, your spiritual self—by your neighbors. If you are the true disciple of Christ, and if you are what a Christian should be in this land of Christianity, you will not indulge yourself in comparisons with any but the Saviour himself. You will be daily and hourly striving to possess more and more of his spirit; in the belief that without the spirit of Christ, you neither are nor can be his.
It is painful to think of the great number of individuals who go through life—often through a long life—and yet accomplish so little for themselves and others. That they are free from outward immorality or blame—as much so at least as their neighbors—seems to satisfy them. Some of the best families I know, are trained in this way. They are excellent people; they are disciples of Christ, if there are any such in the world: we cannot say aught against them, if we would. They seem to discharge all the external duties of our holy religion with a most scrupulous exactness; and they seem—the whole family—to bear the image of Christ. Whatever is true or lovely, is theirs; or appears to be so.
And yet, if you examine closely the matter, you will find that much of all this is the result of circumstances. They possess, by inheritance, a happy temper—or they are in circumstances which make virtue easy to them.
But the spirit and genius of Christianity require a great deal more than mere inoffensiveness—though that is, of itself, certainly, a great deal. They require continual progress from glory to glory. But this progress can only be made amid self-denial and cross-taking. "Whoso taketh not up his cross," daily and hourly, is not a true disciple of the great Teacher. It is even through "much tribulation" only, that we can enter into the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour.
Now, to what self-denials, what tribulations, what taking up of the cross, do these easy, lovely families of which I am speaking, ever subject themselves? Trained happily, they are generally healthy—and therefore they have few trials from sickness. They live in the midst of abundance, and always have done so—abundance of food, clothing, &c., and of what they regard as of the best quality. They have more than heart can wish: their eyes, as it were, stand out with fatness. They know nothing of want: they know nothing even of inconvenience—except for some hapless moment, when a neighbor gets a little ahead of them in the fashion of their dress, their equipage, or their tables. Then a feeling of envy—peradventure a half expressed feeling of detraction—appears to mar, for a short time, their peace.
I have said that these inoffensive people—these do-no-harm Christians—know nothing of want. When and where have they cut themselves short of any thing to which they were lawfully entitled, for the sake of doing good to others? They have, indeed, performed works of charity and mercy, as much as other people of their own property and standing in society. But they have given, always, of their abundance. They have never so given as to impoverish the giver—so as to make themselves feel the least privation. They have visited the sick: but when has the time they have given, seriously incommoded them? Have they not had time enough left for their own purposes? Have they not, in this respect, given of their abundance? Perhaps they have clothed the poor, to some extent; but have they denied themselves to do it? Have not their closets, and houses, and the neighboring livery stable, been well furnished and supplied, notwithstanding? Have they not given, in this respect, wholly of their abundance—and not, like the good woman mentioned in the gospel, of their penury?
It is exceedingly painful, I say again, to find professedly good people among us living, as Watts calls it, at such a poor, dying rate; the professed disciples of a Master who became poor for their sakes, by giving up, not only the luxuries of life, but even many of its necessaries—and yet not giving up or denying themselves a single thing all their lives long.
Can such people expect to make advances in holiness—to grow in grace and in the knowledge of Christ—and yet not act like him, or follow him? For be it always remembered—the benefits of doing good are to thosewho do it, more than to those to whom it is done. This is the ordination and arrangement of Providence. "It is more blessed to give than to receive." How sad a mistake, then, is made by those who seem—from their conduct—to think there is little happiness in giving; and that their charities abridge, by so much, their happiness, instead of adding to it.
Young woman, should it be your lot to belong to one of these happy and excellent families—for I do not deny that they are among our best people, after all, though they are very far from having, as yet, come up to the self-denying, self-sacrificing spirit of the Lord that bought them, and become willing to be poor, and to suffer not a little want of time, money, &c. for even their own apparent necessities, temporal or spiritual—I say, if in the providence of God, you have been accustomed to see almost the whole time and labor of a family, with the avails of a handsome, or at least respectable property, used up year after year by that family, in eating, and drinking, and sleeping, and dressingcomfortably—in mere passive enjoyment, in one word—while the blessedness of active enjoyment, in the doing of good to others, has been hardly known—be it yours to break the chain that binds this circle of selfishness, and go forth to the work of impoverishing yourself, as did your Lord and Master. Think not to make any considerable moral progress, otherwise! The soul must have food, as well as the body. This continual indulgence of the body, while the soul is unfed, or only fed just enough to keep it from starving, will never do for you. If you yield to the influence of this fashionable kind of excellence, and strive not to rise higher, I will not say that you will live to little purpose; but I will say, that you will have but very little of real, valuable, immortal life, till you pass beyond the bounds of time and space. Whereas, you ought to begin your heaven here. For "this is the will of God, even your sanctification;" and it was the prayer of Paul concerning some to whom he wrote—"The God of peace sanctify you wholly."
Will you not, then, O young woman! in view of these considerations, seek for deliverance from the spell that binds thousands and millions of otherwise good people to a narrow, selfish circle, in which they continually wander—coming round and round again, every night, to the same spot, or nearly the same, but making no considerable progress? Will you not study, and labor, and pray, for more and more of the spirit of Him, who not only stripped himself of every glory to which he, had been accustomed, but, instead of retaining that which was his divine right, deprived himself of every thing which is calculated to make life comfortable in the common sense of the term, and only sought his happiness in perfecting holiness in the fear of God, by living and dying for his brethren—the whole human family? Will you not henceforth study to be more and more conformed to the Divine image—and to act less and less in conformity with a world whose predominating motive to action, is selfishness?
End of Project Gutenberg's The Young Woman's Guide, by William A. Alcott