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Manhood : its duties and responsibilities / William Wallace Everts. Everts, W. W. (William Wallace), 1814-1890. 400dpi TIFF G4 page images University of Kentucky, Electronic Information Access & Management Center Lexington, Kentucky 2002 b96-16-36620162 Electronic reproduction. 2002. (Beyond the shelf, serving historic Kentuckiana through virtual access (IMLS LG-03-02-0012-02) ; These pages may be freely searched and displayed. Permission must be received for subsequent distribution in print or electronically. Manhood : its duties and responsibilities / William Wallace Everts. Everts, W. W. (William Wallace), 1814-1890. Hull, Louisville : 1854. 343 p. ; 20 cm. Coleman Microfilm. Atlanta, Ga. : SOLINET, 1997. 1 microfilm reel ; 35 mm. (SOLINET/ASERL Cooperative Microfilming Project (NEH PS-21089) ; SOL MN06591.06 KUK) Printing Master B96-16. IMLS This electronic text file was created by Optical Character Recognition (OCR). No corrections have been made to the OCR-ed text and no editing has been done to the content of the original document. Encoding has been done through an automated process using the recommendations for Level 1 of the TEI in Libraries Guidelines. Digital page images are linked to the text file. Ethics. Conduct of life. VOYAGE OF LIFE. I CHILDHOOD: ITS PROMISE AND TRAINING. II YOUTH: ITS TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS. [ I I MANHOOD: ITS DUTIES AND RESPONSIBILITIES. IV OLD AGE: ITS SE R E NIT Y AN D nOP E. hasor of WA" SteqSp hud loU1SVItI. Ky. pTrrr ' Of tife. M A N II 0 0 D: I rs DUTIES AND RESPONSIBILITIES. W. W. EVERTS, AUTHOR OF LID] AND THOUGHTS OF FOMTL." -BETREL" PASTOR'S RANDBOOD BIBE PlRAYR-BOOK" -BIBLE MANUAL." Ev FOURTH THOUSAND LOUISVILLE: BULL AND BROTHER. NEW YORK: SHELDON, LAMPORT AND CO. 1 854. W'4t foraot Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the year 1854, BY W. IV. EVERTS, In the Clerk's Once of the District Court of the United States, in and for the District of Kentucky. ULL & BROTHER. PBPTERS, EHULL BUOTHZR & CAREL, BraDES POURTH ST. LOfLSVILLE. = & BROTHERS STEEXOTYPE FOUBRY. CONTENTS. P AC, . .. 9 CHAPTER L SELF DUTIES, - - - - - - - - - - - 13 Contemplation of Youth Interesting.-Responsibility a Necessity of Rational, Dependent Beings.-Particularity of the Divine Law.-Different Clases of Duties.-Self Duties-Physical Education.-Mental Culture.-Reglmen of the Thoughts.-Subjectlon of the Pasions.-Politeness.-Industry.-Fru- gality.-Improvement of Time.-System-Perseversnoe-Faithfulnes.- Honesty.-Principles.-Habit&--Character. CHAPTER IL DOMESTIC DUTIES, -61 Importance of the Family.-Its Saredness.-Consequeuces ofits Violation.- Character of the Libertine.-A11 should Provide for the Alllance.-Selec- tion of Companlon.-Family Circle.-Filial Duties.-Fraternal Duties.- Family an Institution of Learning.-Family a Circle of Happiness.-Family a School of Virtue.-Re-union of Kindred in Heaven. CHAPTER m. PATRIOTIC DUTIES, - . . . . . . . - 83 Rank of Patriotism, among Virtues.-Fostered by the Advantages and Glory of a Land.-Claims of our own Land.-Familiarlty with the Genius and History of our Political Institutions.-Sovereignty of the People.-Distrib- uted Government.-Despotism in Church and State Symbolize.-Constitu- tional Government.-Its Idea.-Its Embodiment of the Wisdom of Ages.- Its Sacred Obligations.-To be Conserved by all Citizens.-Party Spirit.- Sectional Partyism.-Popular Education.-Iustitutions of Religion.-The Conservative Element in Civil Society. CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. DUTIES OF PIH.LANT.ROPY,... . 113 Kindly Sentiments towards the whole Human Brotherhood.-Protection of the Rights of Man Universally.-Arts of Peace.-Drying up the Sources of Evil by various Social Reforms.-Spread of Christianity.-The Ideal state of the Race attained In Its Triumph.-Varlous, Habits of.Beneficence.-The Song of Life. CHAPTER V. DUTIES OF RELIGION, 183 Duties to Fellow-men are also Duties to GodL-Mankind seeking Distinguished Patronage, may enjoy it in the service of God.-Individual, Domestic, Patti- otic, and Philanthropic Duties attain their highest Guarantees in Religious Obligation.-Its Technical Duties, or means of Religious Culture.-Truth of the Scriptures.-Habit of Prayer.-Self-examination.- Observance of the Sabbath.-Christian Prolession.-Subjection of the whole Life to the Regimen of Relgtion.-Fnal Judgment.-Immortality of Virtue. CHAPTER VI. SPHERE AND DUTIES OF WOMAN, 16t Three-fold Sphere of Woman.-Primary Organization of Society.-Home- Woman its Light-Its Teacher.-Religious Sphere of Woman.-lIer promi. nence in the Religious History of the World.-IHer usefulness in Christian Charities and Missions.-Pernicious Influence when destitute of Religious Principle.-Social Sphere of Woman.-Her Pursuits more Varied.-Her Rights of Property better Guarded.-The Peculiar order of Society Insti- tuted in the Family.-A Moral Empire.-Its Peculiarity destroyed in the Displacement of its Ilead.-Rights of Woman.-Female Education the Nile- ometer of Society.-Education of Woman.-Physical Culture.-Mental Training.-Domestic and Associated Industrial Accomplishments-Ele- gant Acoomplishments.-Moral and Religious Discipline. CHAPTER VIL THE METROPOLIS, . - - - - - 187 Early Origin of Cities.- Exponents of History and Resources of Civilization.- Sane in great Features.--Variety, Magnificence, and Aggregate Extent of Architecture.-Immenee Concourse of People closely contiguous to each oth- CONTENTS. 7 er.-Artifidal Character.-Pbysical Aspects.-Social Organhatn.-Levity otCharacter.-Hurried Life.-Represslon of Kindly Sympathle&-Relations to the Human World.-Foster and Diffuse the Elements of Civilization.- Wealth.-Arts.-Letters.-Aseendent Influence in the Civil Organization and Political History of Society.--Assimilative Moral and Religious Influ- ence over the State.-Causes of Extreme Wickedness of Cities.-Manilfes- tations and Aggregate Extent of-Facilities for Diffusion.-Moral Forces of Judaism concentrated in Jerusalem-Christ and his Apostles directed their Ministry chiefly to Cities.-All Important Measures for Ameliorating the Condition of the Race must Contemplate large Communitles. CHAPTER VIII. THE TEMPTATIONS OF CITY LIFE, . . - 2 First Visit to the City.-A Crisis in Human Life.--Young Men in large Towns in Circumstances of distinguished Promise and Peril.-Removal from Accustomed to strange and ever changing Scenes.-Want of the Conservative Influences of Home.-Over-estimate of Wealth and Frauda- lent Methods of Business.-Diversified Examples of Wickedness in apparent Impunity and Triumph.-Appeals to particular Passions and Weaknesses of Human Nature.-Coneealed Character of City Life.-Triumph over these Temptations is glorious. CHAPTER IX. THE THEATER, 287 Conspicuous Advertisements.-Thlngs premised in this Discussion.-Theater as it is.-Necessary and Uniform Influences not Abuses.-Not entitled to the Credit of the Drama. -Does not promote Popular Education.-Does n-t exhibit True and Useful Knowledge of the World-hence a mere Institution of Amusement.-In that Character prodigiously Expensive.-Without Legal Censorship invariably sinks to Subserviency to Passion and Viee.-Itence Precludes the Safeguards of Virtue where most essential.-Their most avail- able Entertainments eminently unsatisfying and dissipating.-General Character of its Profession abets Demoralizing Influences.-The Character of its Standard Plays and most Popular Entertainments further abets these Influences.-As wholly.an Institution of the Night, it fosters Temptation, and encourages. by concealing, Vice.-Brilliancy of Scenic Representations, Dfecorations, and Music, in their Relations, arc like Sweet Sounds, alluring to the Borders of Perdition. Its Affinities and Affiliations demonstrate and promote Its Demoralizing Influences-Concurring TestimoniCs ot the Wise and Good of Succeeding Age against It.-Remonstrance against its Patronage. This page in the original text is blank. PREFACE. Is the First Part of the "x Voyage, " we propose to de- lineate the promise, and commend the proper training of Childhood. The subject will be treated under a figurative title, "Childhood, or the 'Narrows' of Life," suggested by the relation of the channel bearing that name, and leading from the Great Metropolis of the New World to the ocean. The treatise, by its allegorical style, it is hoped, will be rendered intelligible and captivating to chil- dren; and by its just analysis and clear illustration of the promise and proper education of childhood, prove a useful manual to parents and guardians. In the Second Part of the "Voyage," we shall endeavor to point out the leading temptations and the reliable safe- guards of the young, and trace the triumphs of youth in a career of virtue and piety. In the Third Part of the "Voyage," we have attempted to delineate the several classes of the duties of men, as Self-Duties, or those arising from the individual consti- tution of man; Domestic Duties, or those arising from the family institution; Patriotic Duties, or those arising from civil compact; Duties of Philanthropy, or those arising 2 from the broader relations of the human brotherhood; and Duties of Religion, or those arising from the common relations of creatures to their Creator. In this part, also, are contained a dissertation upon the peculiar sphere and Duties of Woman; and three others upon the " Lights and Shades of City Life;" sketching the features of a great Metropolis, the trials of virtue amid its gay scenes, and the demoralizing influence of the stage. Though this vol- ume has been written, amid the most pressing engage- ments, and not intended for so early publication, we hope it will aid some of the young, and some parents and guar- dians in appreciating more fully the "1 Duties and Respon- sibilities of Youth." In the Fourth Part of the "Voyage," we shall attempt to trace the true dignity of mature manhood, and the p eace and honor of virtuous old age. We commend the parts of the "Voyage of Life," as they may be issued, to the classes to which they severally refer, and to those specially seeking their welfare and the amelioration of the condition of the human family. W. W. EVERTS. Umsmvi, JULY, 1864 10 PREFACE. MA1 A N H 0 0 -D. This page in the original text is blank. CHIAPTER L. SELF DUTIES. "YorTa ip not like a new garment, which we ean keep fresh and fair by wearing sparingly. Youth, while we have it, we must wear daily, and It will fat wear away." FOSTER. As WB gaze upon the brow of youth, meet the glance of his eye, and seek to scan his thoughts and penetrate his destiny, our interest deepens to thought- fulness-sometimes to sadness. He is a mariner, taking the parting view of the shores of his native land, and entering a rough and treacherous sea, to perform a long and hazardous voyage. And while his snow white sails are spread to the inviting winds, and his gay streamers floating in the air, and his bark, like a thing of life, is bounding over the hither wave, the ocean, in its far off regions, may be nursing the whirl- wind and the storm, which shall baffle his seamanship and courage, and drive his gallant bark a wreck; or may be opening safe roads, and gathering favoring breezes, to waft him to his destined haven. He is an immortal being, approaching, or uncon- sciously standing, upon the threshhold of his destiny. He is a pilgrim, lingering at the gate of life, to gain DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. glorious admittance there, or be banished thence to the shades of an unending night. The wise conduct and happy issue of life can arise only from a just sense of responsibility. The greatest of American intellects, when asked, what was the greatest thought of his life, replied: "The thought of my accountability to God." Responsibility is the necessity of a dependent and rational being. It is co-extensive waith the expressed will of the Creator, respecting his character and actions. It is embodied in a divine law, emanating from supreme authority and infallible intelligence-a grand rule of discrimination and obligation, of injunction and prohibi- tion, in reference to all possible modes of being, action, thought, or disposition. "As to the quality and extent of that law," a distinguished writer has said, "i proceed- ing from a perfectly holy Being, it could not do less than prescribe a perfect holiness in all things. Think of the absurdity there is in the idea, that its require- ments should be less than perfeet holiness. For that less-what should it be What would or could the remainder be, after holiness up to a certain point, and stopping there It must be NOT holiness just so far. Not holiness and what must it be then What COULD it be but something UNHJOLY, wrong, sinful Thus a law not requiring PERFECT rectitude, would so FAR give an allowance, a SANCTION to what is evil-sin. And 14 from Him who is perfectly and infinitely holyt An utter absurdity to conceive! " The rigor of the divine law in watching with such scrutiny the whole life of man, marking his most private actions, and prying into the most secret springs of con- duct, is often complained of as beneath the dignity of the divine Providence; a formidable interference with man's liberty, and a perpetual restraint upon his happi- ness. And in respect to these multiform and Inevitable obligations, in every age, and in every rank and condi- tion of life, unbelieving men have exclaimed: "We will not have the Almighty to reign over us." "Let us break his bands asunder, and cast away his cords from us." To escape sense of guilt, obligation is denied; and in the approved morality of the world, the law is sought to be set aside, or narrowed down in its requirements. "Never Jesuit's commentary on the Bible falsified more than the world's system of principles perverts or sup- plants that of the Almighty. It is as if the tables, written on Sinai, had been subjected to be passed through the camp for the people to revise, interpolate, erase, or wholly substitute at their pleasure." Sure the legislation of heaven cannot be thus subject to the revision of earth! The judicial forms of the divine government cannot be modified to accommodate Life and Thoughts of John Foster. 15 SELF DUTIES. DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. the caprice, or vindicate the conduct of a selfish and sinning race. In urging objection to the comprehension and rigor of the divine law, it is forgotten that the guilt of the violation of any particular law, may outmeasure the act itself, and swell to the violation of all God's laws. In breaking any, even the least of God's commandments, are evinced the selfishness, the blindness of unbelief, the disregard of sacred rights, the defiance of divine author- ity, which would, under the pressure of stronger temnp- tations, lead to the violation of the greatest, or all the commandments. The importance and guilt of every transgression, must, therefore, be admeasured, in divine law, to its rebellious attitude to God, and its legitimate tendencies in his government. According to that standard, the grandeur of a virtue may be greater than that of the sky-piercing mountain, or blazing volcano; the mischief of a vice greater than that of a tornado or an earth- quake. The least, the incipient motive of evil, must, there- fore, be met by prohibitions and penalties of divine law. The smallest errors, even thoughts of sin, cannot pass unrebuked, unless the whole catalogue of human crime, be tolerated. If the seeding of evil be winked at, the harvest should be patiently endured. If wve spare the eggs of the cockatrice, we should not profess 16 SELF DUTIES. too great hostility to the poisonous brood. If we neg- lect purposely the first trickling of water through a dam or embankment, it would be inconsistent to affect too much horror at the desolations of the flood, sweeping away factories and dwellings, and ravaging gardens and fields. Hence, the wisdom and goodness of the divine law in taking severe cognizance of all the acts of life, and reaching to the thoughts and intents of the heart. Cicero has, with great precision and elegance of language, portrayed this comprehensiveness of human obligation: "' Nulla enim vitae pars, neque publicis neque privatis, neque forensibus neque domesticis in rebus, neque si tecum agas quid neque si cum altero contrahas, vacare officio potest, in eoque et colendo sita vitae est honestas omnis, et in negligendo turpituda." Cic. de Officiis, lib. I, ch. ii. " For no part of life, neither what you transact in public or in private, in foreign or in domestic affairs, with yourself, or with another, can possibly be free from responsibility. From cherishing a sense of this respon- sibility, arises all the virtue, from repressing it, all the vice of human life." The extreme particularity of the Jewish ritual, ex- tending its sanctions to minutest circumstances in the order of worship; to the frequency and manner of ablu- 17 1 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. tions of persons, dress, vessels, and of houses; and to the kind, age, and color of animals to be offered in sac- rifice, was doubtless designed to provide memorials of ever recurring obligations, and furnish a living type of the higher spiritual regimen of the divine law, enforc- ing all the particular distinctions of right and wrong among men. - Classifying the obligations of men, we may distin- guish, 1st, those arising from individual constitution and endowments, or self duties; 2nd, those arising from the domestic constitution, or family duties; 3rd, those aris- ing from civil compact, or patriotic duties; 4th, those arising from our broader relations to the human broth- erhood, or duties of philanthropy; 5th, those arising from the common relations of creatures to the Creator, or duties of religion. PHYSICAL EDUCATION. Of self duties, first, we urge the care of the body. Its adaptation of bones, muscles, sinews, nerves; its faculty of locomotion, of vision, and hearing; its pro- cess of nutrition, growth, and renewal of decay; its erect form and countenance looking heavenward and radiant with divine intelligence, distinguish it as the crowning glory of the material world, and the suitable habitation and throne of the appointed lord of the earth. As the masterpiece of material creation, its degradation 18 SELF DUTIES. or neglect evinces ingratitude to the Creator, and be- trays a sacred trust. As the house of the soul, and by its condition modifying the capacity for spiritual cul- ture, acquisition, and enjoyment, the importance of pre- serving its functions in the most healthy state can hardly be exaggerated. Physical and mental achievement, the pleasures of sense and of reason, alike sink in the decline of bodily health. And commonly, that decline is insidious, and gradual, and hopeless as it is gradual. The sapling struck suddenly down by the falling tree, when disen- gaged from the incumbent pressure, may, by its unbro- ken elasticity, spring again to its erect position. But prejudiced in its growth, by an incumbent force gradu- ally turning it aside from direct ascent or bending it to the earth, as it becomes distorted it looses its elasticity, and when relieved of the biasing force, it will rise slowly, if ever. Thus the insidious violation of the laws of health, pervertis and abridges the physical life of the race. They do not live out half their days. And the days allotted to them arc filled with needless darkness and sorrow. By the sentence of mortality the seeds of various diseases are distributed and latent in the human sys- tem. Under the regimen of virtue these seeds of dis- ease may be in part resolved and dissipated through the circulating and porous system, hereditary weaknesses 19 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. and infirmities may be removed, and the principles of health and happiness incorporated into the constitution. But by exposure, over exertion, or dissipation, they are fostered and prematurely developed in the subversion of health and life. The facilities for retaining and con- firming health are great; of regaining it, few. "tTo him who hath is given, and he shall have abundantly; but from him who hath not shall be taken away, even that he previously bath." The invalid, cut off from the sources of health, nour- ishing food, pure air, and genial exercise, easily declines, and loses all his scanty estate of health. But possess- ing a sound bodily constitution, you have the amplest means of retaining and confirmin-g it. Preserve it, therefore, before you lie on a bed of sickness, your temples throb with the burning fever, or your brow, cheeks, and trembling lips bear the pale marks of wasting consumption. Study the laws of health. Observe temperance in all things. A profes- sional gentleman who had always enjoyed perfect health, and scarcely knew the meaning of pain and de- jected spirits, assigned as the reason of his distinction, strict temperance. He early formed the habit of taking nothing into his system which he found to be injurious, and always ceased to gratify his appetite while it was yet good. At the intervals of business, leave the couut- ing house, the store, tlue shop, and go abroad amid 20 SELF DUTIES. scenes of life and beauty, inhaling the refreshing air, and quickening the vital current by a brisk walk. And if engaged in manual occupations, do not recklessly expose yourself to heat or cold, night or storm, or need- lessly overtax the strength or functions of the body. Especially avoid dissipation. It enervates and exhausts the vital powers, and engenders and fosters manifold diseases. To various self abuses may be traced debil- itated constitutions, scrofulous habit, insanity, and nameless trains of evils darkening the lives of its victims, and entailed in dreadful retribution upon their children to the third and fourth generation. By the faithfiul regimen of the body, then, prove yourselves worthy of higher trusts, and indirectly conserve all the varied interests and happiness of life. SELF DUTIES-MENTAL CULTURE. The duty of mental improvement is as obvious as that of physical culture. If there is nothing great in the world but man, there is comparatively nothing great in man hut mind. That is your instrument of power, your patent of nobility, and your endowment for immortality and endless progression in knowledge and happiness. It constitutes your own greatest dignity, and your highest resemblance to the invisible Creator. By adapted and persevering culture you may improve and strengthen its faculities, store its chambers of mem- 21 12DUTrIES OF THE YOUNG. ory with classified truths and images of beauty, elevate its pursuits, aspirations, and pleasures to those of higher ranks of beings, till it look above the clouds and reach beyond the stars. Or you may leave it encumbered with material life, debased with passions, and enfeebled in purpose, till it rise in rational exercises scarcely above the instincts of the brute (creation, and in groveling aims creep with the serpent in slimy filth along the fens and bogs of sensual life. The most valuable culture of the mind does not de- pend upon access to large libraries, or the facilities of a collegiate edulation. That mental training, that com- mand of your faculties and subjection of your passions, that knowledge of yourselves, of men, and things which will fit you to become the most useful citizens, constitute the highest. education. And such education is available in all the walks and conditions of life. Pursue it in a thorough knowledge of your own profession, or trade, or calling, so that you may excel in it. Pursue it, when possible, by association with public libraries, lit- erary and scientific institutions, and by attendance upon public lectures. Pursue it by systematic reading at the intervals of business, to comprehend a character, a theory, a country, an age. Vagrant reading is of less use, and may be pernicious. Not only read with a purpose but with discrimination. 22 SELF DUTIES. In the garden of plants in Paris, the qualities of plants distributed over a wide range of beds are distin- guished by different colored labels. It were well if the myriad books which crowd our book stores and public and private libraries could be thus classified and distin- guished according to the purity, or perniciousness, or mingled character of their influence. You should no more be willing to devour mental, than material, garbage or poison. You should no more be willing to dwell within the precincts of a literary, than a literal, pandemonium; to visit the chamber of obscene imagery and embellishment in a book, than in a house; to consort with a libertine and bandit in mental reverie, than in literal association. Rise, then, in thorough and select culture, to dignity, influence, and happiness. Transmute the charcoal of native intellect into the sparkling diamond of cultivated mind. Impart to the unshaped marble, symmetry, ex- pression, and beaaty. Clear off the native wilderness and supersede the luxuriance of noxious weeds, by clas- sified fertility and beauty of fields and gardens. Mingle not with the blending crowds of ignorance and vice, but distinguish yourself with the educated, the intelli- gent, and refined. GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. As complemental, and the most distinguished facility to mental culture, we urge the duty of governing the 23 DUTIES OF THE YOC'NG. thoughts. The mind, instead of being dissipated in idle reveries, building castles in the air, or in vain or sinful thoughts, may be occupied in trains of useful reflection. By proper attention, casual trains of thoughts may be made available for the illustration of some truth, the enforcement of some duty. Reflec- tion is a locomotive power which may move the trains of human conduct and destiny. Concentrated upon proper objects, it may impel and sustain the progress of useful life, and arts, and social happiness. Subjected to no control, it may escape in noiseless and aimless activity, or precipitate the whole train of human affairs in ruin. Moreover, man's habitual thoughts reveal or deter- mine his character. Thoughts of truth, justice, benefi- cence, mercy, and peace, are the efflorescence, the fragrance, of an exalted and virtuous character, and they contribute further to refine and adorn it. ", I am but a lump of common clay," says the Persian apo- logue. "Askest thou whence came my fragrance I was long the companion of the rose leaf, hence my perfume." The soul that produces pure and noble thoughts retains their beauty and aroma. But thoughts of self- ishness, impurity, and injustice, evince a depraved character, as pestilent exhalations do stagnant waters or marshy grounds. But they aggravate by a reflex 24 8ELF DUTIES. Influence the depravity whence they spring, and evil thoughts become the precursors of evil deeds. Thoughts of covetousness precede theft, forgery, burglary, rob- bery; thoughts of vengeance, slander, affrays of vio- lence, murder; thoughts of impurity, seduction, liber- tinism, and profligacy. "For atoms must crowd upon atoms, ere crime groweth to be a giant. What, is thy servant a dog Not yet wilt thou grasp the dagger; Not yet wilt thou laugh with the scoffers, not yet betray the innocent; But if thou nourish in thy heart the revenge of injury and passion, And travel in mental heat the mazy labyrinths of guilt, And then ccncelve it possible, and then reflect on it as done, And use, by little and little, thyself to regard thyself a villain, [heart, Not long will crime be absent from the voice that doth invoke him to thy And bitterly wilt thou grieve that these buds have ripened into poison." Keep, then, your heart, the source of casual thoughts. Keep it as a treasure, carefully deposited, secured, and guarded. Keep it as a citadel which guards the royal family, treasures, and the passes of a kingdom. Keep it as a garden, precluding the growth of noxious weeds, by eradicating them, and planting and rearing, in their place, useful plants and beautiful flowers. SUBJECTION OF THE PASSIONS. The habitual subjection of the passions to their nor- mal exercise, is another important duty, nearly allied to that of regulating the thoughts. Passion is the mo- tive power of man and of society. If it escape with noisy and aimless action, like steam from the blow-pipe, 3 25 DUTTIES OP THE YOUNG. it is wasted force. Or if it move the train of human affairs, without directing intelligence, or regulations of time and place, it will precipitate a vast destruction. But concentrated, under intelligent direction, upon the machinery of industrial, social, and religious life, it is as beneficent as it is an amazing power. Under proper regimen, the passions are like the trained horses of a royal chariot, gaily caparisoned, and flying over royal roads, parks, and country, obedient to the whip, the rein, and the voice of the charioteer. Without subjec- tion, they are like M3azeppa's fiery steed, unbridled and unrestrained, bearing its rider through thicket, over hill and dale, to ultimate destruction. The subjection of the passions is a pledge of efficiency and distinction among men. Without it, a man may think well, plan well, but he will achieve little. It is a higher element of character than material courage or intellectual penetration. He that rules his own spirit is greater than he that takes a city, vanquishes a king- dom, amasses wealth, solves the problems of nature, or eircumnavigates the globe. And it is a surer guarantee of respect, influence, and success in life, than distinc- tions of wealth or talent. By precluding the petty differences and strifes which alienate friends and arm enemies, it makes its possessor magnanimous and great. There is weakness, as well as meanness and degrada- tion, in ungoverned passion. Mlan sinks by it to the level 26 SELF DUTIFS. of the brute, controlled by instinct and impulse. But there is dignity, greatness, and power in habitual self- possession and government, elevating its possessor to superiority over his adversary or compeer, in every calling, profession, or condition in life. A friend, once rudely insulted at the polls by a politician of talent, social position, and influence, instead of retaliating with approbrious epithets and sarcasm, simply replied, in a manner to fasten the eyes of all present upon his abuser, - Sir, no gentleman will insult me; no other can." His antagonist was confounded, and his triumph was complete. By such self-government, a peace is retained, to which he is a stranger who is perpetually carried away by an irrascible temper, with acts of revenge. "Hle that revenges knows no rest; The meek possess a peaceful breast." The subjection of the sensual appetite is as impor- tant as that of an irrascible temper. Reason and con- science prescribe the scope and determine the bounds of their lawful indulgence. The observationof those bounds is the charge of duty and the high distinction of a ra- tional being. In their transgression man sinks towards the sphere of the lower order of the animal creation. ' Tis the inferior appetites enthrall The man, and quench the immortal light within him; The senses take the soul an easy prey, And sink the imprisoned spirit into bruts. 27 2ITIES OF THE YOUNG. Self-government should embrace the elevation of all the affections and tastes to the standard of their virtu- ous exercise. Virtuous susceptibilities subjected to violence and excess become vices. Reserve is liable to degenerate into supineness, activity into restlessness, vigilance into curiosity, penetration into censoriousness, promptitude into levity, fluency into loquacity, grace into coquetry, taste into fastidiousness, aptitude into presumption, influence into intrigue, empire into domi- nation, tenderness into morbid susceptibility, love into jealousy, and desire of usefulness into obtrusiveness." Instead of murmuring that the force and besetments of passion are so great and so perilous, remember they constitute the trial of character, and they who escape the ordeal unscathed, shall appear as gold purified for vessels of honor in the kingdom of God. You may enlist all those passional excitements to promote your own happiness and the well-being of man. You may combine them as a foree to move the train of individual and social improvement, or waste them in aimless and destructive action. You may employ them to warm into exercise the best faculties of the soul, and give energy to lawful pursuits, or concentrate them in an in- tensity of selfish desire, that will consume all that is beautiful or generous in the life of the individual, set on fire the whole course of nature, and wrap in the flames of a moral conflagration the whole fabric of social 28 8BLF DUTIBS. institutions. As a spark may kindle a fire which shall burn down half a city, so a lawless impulse may origin- ate a train of crimes and sorrows, and leave you con- demned before the bar of God. Affrays of violence which occur almost daily, remov- ing mortals to the bar of God unprepared, and leaving the perpetrators to expiate their crime on the gallows, or bearing the mark of their guilt, like Cain, to their graves, and dooming numerous kindred to mingled sor- row and shame, or fear and hatred; instances of self- debasement of daily observation, sinking the lineaments of the rational nature in the disgusting features of the lower order of animals, and the physical nature in pre- mature decay, and involving families in disgrace or want and woe; and the prevalence of prejudice and caprice, obscuring the distinction of truth and error, virtue and vice, admonish you of the high duty of absolute and continued self-control. Say in manly and firm resolve, this soul shall rule this body, or shall quit it, and hero- ically carry out the high resolve, and thou shalt prove thyself greater than the hero of a hundred battles. POLITENESS. Observe good manners. Americans, placing more value upon the substantial than the showy, perhaps overlook too much the proprieties of conduct, and are obnoxious to the charge of being an unmannerly people. 29 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. The State is obliged to provide spittoons for its legis- lative halls, to accommodate honorable Senators in a slovenly habit scarcely known in the higher circles of England or the Continent. The director of railroads and proprietors of steamboats find it necessary to print on placards the request to passengers to use the spit- tocns and not the floor, and not to put their feet on the seats. The carpets and furniture of hotels, and even of private residences, are liable to be soiled by filthy tobacco juice, or scarified by the feet thrust upon satin or damask cushions, or scraped upon mahogany or rose- wood veneerings. Hence, we have been described by foreigners as a "spitting people," a "lounging nation," a "people of outlandish speech and attitude." Do not in your conductt contribute to perpetuate these national barbarisms; cultivate genuine good breeding, gentle manners, ease, modesty, and propriety of bearing. A bow instead of a surly nod, a polite apology instead of an indifferent hurrying away from anyone whom you have accidentally jostled down, a civil request instead of a gruff demand, would take no more time, trouble, or money, yet they would tend vastly to the comfort and harmony of society. Politeness does not consist in wearing a white silk glove, and in gracefully lifting your hat as you meet an acquaintance-it does not consist in artificial smiles and flattering speech, but in sincere and honest endeavors to promote the happiness so SELF DUTIES. of those around you. The man who speaks in the language of kindness, and who studies those little atten- tions which gratify the heart, is a polite man, though he may wear a home-spun coat, and make a very un- graceful bow. And many a fashionable, who dresses genteelly, and enters the most crowded apartments with assurance and ease, is a perfect compound of rudeness and incivility. Says Chalmers: "There is a set of people whom I cannot bear-the pinks of fashionable propriety-whose every word is precise, and whose every movement is un- exceptionable; but who, though versed in all the cate- gories of polite behaviour, have not a particle of soul or of cordiality about them. We know that their manners may be abundantly correct. There may be elegance in "very gesture, and gracefulness in every position; not a smile out of place, and not a step that would not bear the severest scrutiny. This is all very fine, but what I want is the heart, and the gaiety of social inter- ( ourse-the frankness that spreads ease and animation around it-the eye that speaks affability to all, that chases timidity from every bosom, and tells every man in the company to be confident and happy. This is what I conceive to be the virtue of the text, and not the sickening formality of those who walk by rule, and would reduce the whole of human life to a wire- bound system of misery and constraint." 31 DUTIES OF THE YOUN6. INDUSTRY. Industry is the only safe agrarian law of society. It is ever elevating the laboring classes and reducing the idle. It fixes a period to all monopolies, and places salutary checks upon them in partial and limited oper- ations. It is estimated by political economists, that the consumption of each year is equal to one-fifth of the whole property of the world, or that the consumption nearly equals the production of each year. A week or two added to the consumption of the year would pro- duce a famine in almost every country; and the cessa- tion of labor five years would leave the world in bank- ruptcy and want. Industry is, therefore, a universal duty. It should never be regarded as disreputable or irksome, except in unauthorized exactions of labor. It fosters health, contentment, virtue, and happiness, as well as compe- tence and affluence. You are deceived in desiring a condition free from. the necessity of labor. It is im- posed in kindness. A want of occupation is not rest, A mini quite vacant is a mind distressed." Labor was honorable in the patriarchal ages. It was honorable in the pure ages of Greece and Rome. It was honorable to Cincinnatus and to Washington. But in the feudal ages, by associating labor with the en- slaved condition of vassals, and want of occupation 32 SELF VCrTM. 33 with the independence and affluence of tyrant lords, a leaven of false aristocracy was infused into Europe, and has affected our father-land, and reached the shores of the New World. But the prejudice is an aspersion upon the Divine wisdom, hurtful to its victims, and the bane of the world. "Who are the nobles of the earth - The true aristocrats- Who noed not bow their heads to lords, Nor doff to kings their hats Who are they, but the men of toil, The mighty and the free, Whose hearts and hands subdue the earth, And oompass all the sea Who are they, but the men of toil, Who clea"e the forests down, And plant amid the wilderness The hamlet and the town Who fight the battles, bear the scarw. And give the world Its crown Of name, and fame, and history, And pomp of old renown 'These claim no gaud of heraldry, And scorn the knighting rod; Their coats-of-rms are noble deeds; Their peerage is from Godl They take not from ancestral graves The glory of their name, But win, as ergt their fathers won, The lanrel-wreath of fame.' FRUGALITY. Providence teaches this virtue by limiting the means of expenditure in early life, and by nearly equalizing the produetion and consumption of the race. 4 34tmub OF THE YOSNG. Frugality carefully husbands the earnings of Indus- try, as a capital for business, a resource for adversity or as a provision for old age. The acquisition of prop- erty ordinarily depends more upon what is saved, than upon what is earned. But economy not only accumu- lates means, but also inspires confidence, and secures credit, so that profitable partnerships and openings for independent business may be entered. The spendthrift alienates not only his means, but his credit, and thus closes up all the avenues to successful business. Frank- lin says: "The sound of your hammer at five in the morning or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer; but if he sees you at a billiard table, or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, he sends for his money the next day." Besides, prodigality of expenditure leads into tempta- tions, and often betrays into flagrant immoralities. Frugality, therefore, becomes the turning point in the commercial fortunes and reputation of thousands every year. The neglect of it, induced by thoughtlessness or the foolish indulgence of parents, is often as fatal to the comfort, respectability, and peace of after life, as absolute vice. The husbanded earnings of youth, considered in ref- erence to accumulation and preserving character and credit, are the seed-grain for the harvests of life. Who would consume the last bushel of wheat to crown his 34 SELF DIES. table with superfluities, while the cultivated field waits to receive it, with a promise of returning thirty, sixty, or a hundred-fold When Franklin commenced busi- ness in Philadelphia as a printer, with limited means, from jealousy of his skill and early success, there was a combination of some of the trade to put him down. Aware of the coalition, he made no accusations or threats, but took occasion to invite one of the most bit- ter of his opponents into his back shop, which was still his only abode, and showed him a loaf of bread on which he had just made a hearty meal. "Now," said said he, "unless you can live cheaper than I, you must perceive it is vain to think of starving me out." The opposition was silently abandoned. So the economist is prepared to meet opposition and reverses, while the spendthrift is wrecked by the first storm of adversity. THE IMPROVEMENT OF TIME. Time is precious in relation to the engagements of the day; in relation to the frightful loss of the past, requiring to be redeemed; in relation to its brief dura- tion and rapid flight; and in its probationary relation to the future. It has been said, "Time is money." It is more. It is truth, wisdom, virtue, heaven! It is a capital In which men are equal, though endowed with dissimilar fortunes. Its capacity and promise are yours. Its achievements are possible to you. Its 35 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. hopes shine upon you. Spare moments are the gold- dust of time. And the poet has graphically said: "Sands make the mountalu, months make the year." Time steals from us imperceptibly in its spare mo- ments, while perhaps jealously guarded in its allotted periods. But if we take care of the moments, the hours, days, weeks, will take care of themselves. The trae use of time is a test of character, the pledge of greatness, the earnest of success. The improvement of the shortest intervals of business increases the taste and faculties for study, and promises intelligence and respect. Assiduity and punctuality may attain success in professional, commercial, or mechanical pursuits, while negligence and procrastination entail failure and dis- grace. Diligence in useful occupations precludes a thousand temptations to vice. Spare moments are the gaps through which they find readiest access to the soul. When not provided for by a judicious arrange- ment of time, they may commit you to spontaneous and casual engagements, and at length confirm these engage- ments in habits, and finally enslave and debase the soul in mere vagrancy of thought and passion. The manner of using leisure time, then, is one of the most ominous differences in the habits of young men. As the Turks prize every scrap of paper they can 36 SELF DUTIES. gather, because the name of God may be written thereon, so do you prize every passing period, every moment, as fraught with priceless value, and radiant with golden promise. Just now you were an infant, and sympathy was felt in your cry. But yesterday you were a child, and chided for your faults. To-day you are a youth, pro- jecting the plans, and glowing with the aspirations of a glorious life. Improve the time, and to-morrow you may be a philosopher, or statesman, or divine, or citi- zen, honored for your wisdom, or goodness, or virtue. The forfeitures by the misuse of time are equal to the rewards of its diligent improvement. "The spirit walks, of each departed hour, And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns." And in respect to the life to come, the improvement of tir, becomes still more fearfully important. Lo, on a narrow neck of land, 'Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand secure, insensible. A point of time-a moment's sace, Remove me to that heavenly place, Or shut me up in hell." SYSTEM. Reduce your life to harmony with the established order of society. Professions, trades, and various secu- lar callings, political and religious institutions, have 37 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. sprung up to provide for the actual wants of society. They furnish the outline of the necessary system of successful life. Modifications of that system may be possible, but it cannot be wholly set aside, as it has been reached by the experience and founded in the set- tled reason of mankind. The eccentric genius, the universal sceptic, whose views harmonize with the views of no class of men of the past or present, and whose plans can be reduced to harmony with no existing system, in relation to sober and practical men, is like the comet, startling and awakening apprehension and alarm by its erratic course and ill-timed and baleful light, compared with the con- stellations of stars, moving and shining in the undis- turbed order of ages. He who overlooks the estab- lished system of life, is like a traveler, exhausting his strength in beating a path through snow drifts, parallel to a highway already opened and well trodden; or an astronomer, exploring the heavens without taking into account the ascertained order of the material universe and relations of the fixed stars; or the navigator, ex- ploring the seas without taking down coasts, promonto- ries of the main-land, and islands of the ocean, as start- ing points and way-marks of his voyages of discovery; or the architect,. gathering materials from the forest and the quarry for an edifice, without reference to size, pro- portions or adaptation. 38 SELF DUTIES. Such men are never practical-never make the most of their resources. They speculate and bustle life away. There is inovement, but no progress. There are the noise and smoke of battle, but no permanent victory. They gain faith in nothing, and impair confi- dence in everything. They are ever learning, but never coming to the knowledge of the truth. Affecting supe- rior wisdom, they display consummate folly. They tear down, but never build up, the institutions of soci- ety. Without system, the strongest in resources becomne weak, and with it, the weak achieve more than their su- periors in talent and patronage. In secular, political, and religious pursuits, associate yourselves, as far as possible, with the existing system of society. Where dissent is necessary to keep a good conscience, do not overstate differences, but hold fast to the maximum of union. By this rule, system may be improved, in industrial pursuits, in politics, and in religion, and not be destroyed. PERSEVERANCE. System ever changing is not a system. A plan must be adhered to, to gain advantage by it. The difficul- ties of a trade or calling are soon discovered by its vo- tary. Seeking to escape these, one involves himself in the greater difficulties of a calling or enterprise of which he was ignorant. Thus he changes a second and 39 DUTIEB OF THE YOUNG. third time, till he is confirmed in the habit of a double- minded man. Though you toil unremittingly till the end of life, laboring first upon this object, then upon that, and now upon another, just long enough to be discouraged with each, you will accomplish little. There is seldom advantage in change of profession or occupation. Few succeed, many fail in the experiment. In every change experience and acquirements are lost, self-confidence impaired, and the respect of others for- feited. You may excel and be respected by persever- ance in any occupation; or you may fail with disgrace by instability in any calling. Form, then, a plan of life, and make every act tell upon its execution. Be not the creatures of varying circumstances, but subordinate circumstances to your plans. Be not as dlrift-wood, taken up by the fresheta and casually left upon some obstruction in the river, or upon the bank, by the receding stream. In every busi- ness or profession difficulties will arise; surmount these, but do not flee from them. By persevering pursuit, patiently surmounting or removing obstacles, you will find the only sure path to success. It is said of Julius Cwsar, that he always succeeded, because " he left noth- ing undone which could ensure success." In a new country there may appear exceptions to the law of disadvantage in change of pursuits; but these cease as society becomes more established in its indu- 40 SELF DUTIES. trial avocations, and the period of adventure and specu- lation is followed by the reign of law and order. Stoop then to conquer; fight for victory; labor for success. Adopt the motto of a distinguished American scholar. It was the picture of a mountain with a man at its base, with his hat and coat lying beside him, and a pick-axe in his hand, and while he digs stroke after stroke, his patient looks correspond with his words, Em Peu et peu "-"s little by little." Mountains of difficul- ties, obstructing all great achievements, can be re- moved by the toilsome hand of persevering labor. Be as unyielding in the pursuit of duty, as Cortez and his heroic band in the pursuit of conquest in the New World. No tempests of the ocean, no sweeping pesti- lence, no superiority of numbers, no reverses or discom- feitures, no want of means, could daunt their courage or repress their ardor. They sank their fleet that they might not be tempted to return from their projected glorious enterprise. The harvests of the enemy must be their bread, the houses of the enemy their homes, the estates of the enemy their wealth! And the yawning and flaming craters of volcanos yielded up to their almost superhuman daring the munitions of war! FAITHFULNESS He that is faithful in that which is least will be also in much. He who neglects a ssmall trust is likely to 41 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. betray a large one. He who attends but indifferently to the primary duties of youth, gives little prumise of fidelity to the higher respoiisil)ilities of maithood. The faithful farmer-boy, apprentice, clerk, or professional student, may be relied upon when advanced to higher trusts. Many young men charge their inefficiency to want of opportunity, or to uncongenial employment. They are not satisfied with the farm, the shop, the counting-house. If allowed to determine their own profession or order of business, they fancy they could succeed, and answer the expectations of their friends. But the difficulty lies deeper than they suppose-in a lack of subserviency-faithfulness. If they would perform better their present tasks, they would be ap- preciated, and by a natural law, promoted Neglecting these or doing them indifferently, by the same law they are prevented from rising, or degraded to lower rank. A member of the British Parliament, who had risen from obscurity, was reminded by a weak aristocrat of his former rank. " I remember, sir, when you were my father's barber." Undisturbed by the invidious allusion, the member replied: " Well, I shaved him WELL, did I not The difference between my former occupation and my present position is the measure of my merit. Had you been apprenticed to a barber, you had proba- bly never risen above your business." When the greatest of dramatic writers was yet a 42 SELF DUTIBS youth, without patrons, seeking employment ia Londou, he was engaged to hold the horses of geiMtleaica at tile. door of play-houses. He soon became so distinguished for his readiness and fidelity to his trust, that all the gentlemen wished to confide their horses to him. Other attendants were compelled to serve under his direction, and that class of waiters afterward came to be distin- guished as i Shakspeare's boys." Faithful, and pro- moted in triviat services among boys Shakspeare was soon promoted among men and before kings. The boy who holds a horse well will make a good groom. A faithful groom will make a faithful goatherd or shep- herd. A faithful shepherd will make a faithful tenant or agent. A faithful agent will make a faithful partner, citizen, magistrate, legislator, or judge. It is by fidel- ity young men are now rising to distinction in their several callings and professions; while through want of it, tens of thousands are losing confidence and em- ployment, and sinking to an uncertain mediocrity. In your present calling, therefore, be subservient. Seek, and do not wait for employment. Do what you do in a superior manner. What is worth doing at all is worth doing well. Aim to be the best in sour business. If a husbandman, plow your fields and plit in and secure your crops better than your neighbors. If a mechanic, make the best shoe, or hat, or fabric, which the market demands. If a salesman, or book-keeper, show your 43 lDUf1 E3 OF THE YOUNG. employer that his just claims could not be more fully met. It entrusted with any civil office, from policeman to president, discharge its duties in the most thorough and faithful manner possible. It is by faithfulness the physician rises from the drudgery of his profession, scanty support, and obscurity, to the patronage of the great, to princely income, and to professional distinc- tion. By faithfulness, the attorney rises from lower courts, unimportant suits, and poor clients, to chancery courts, the defense of large estates, character, or life. By fidelity, the clerk rises through the gradations of service to the administration of the affairs of a commer- cial house, and the confidence of the trading community. By fidelity in his business, the artist or manufacturer becomes foreman and master in his trade. HONESTY. In first passing the limits of rectitude in commercial transactions, is experienced the conflict of virtue and vice. That limit once passed, little compunction or remorse is likely to be felt in traversing freely the wide region of dishonesty. At that limit rises an impassible barrier, reaching to heaven, and the authority of heaven must be stormed ere it can be passed. Here the flam- ing sword of the divine law is placed, and over it is written in blazing characters, "sThus saith the Lord." Beyond this limit there are no effectual barriers to the continuance of a dishonest life. 8ELF DUTIE8. The temptations to fraud, in commercial life, are in- sidious and great. The operations of trade may sharp- en the intellect, but they are apt to cloud the moral sense. It is hard work to read the moral law straight, through the double lens of twelve per cent.; and a man will find some way to hitch his conscience to the train of a profitable transaction, and keep it running in the grooves of a thriving business. Renounce "false rights," " false measures," " fraudu- lent invoices," "forged imprints," and all the tricks of trade. Defraud not your employers in accounts of bu- siness, nor a customer in making change. Be scrupu- lous even to a farthing in all your business transactions; for conscience betrayed in a trivial matter, will precipi- tate fraud in larger transactions. Hence the early training of fraudulent clerks, agents, or partners, default- ers in corporate and public offices, or common thieves, counterfeiters, forgers, or burglars. Preserve a good conscience. If you have progressed undiscovered along the course of peculation, fraud, and the violation of conscience, and earnestly thrive in it, it is too late to regain the standing point of virtue. Imitate the example of the Indian chief, in its applica- tion to your business intercourse with the world. An Indian, visiting his white neighbors, asked for a little tobacco to smoke, and one of them gave him a handful. The day following, the Indian came back, saying he had 45 DUTIES OP THE YOUNG. found a quarter of a dollar among the tobacco. Being told, that as it was given him he might as well keep it, he answered, pointing to his breast, "1 I got a good man and a bad man here, and the good man say, it is not mine, I must return it to the owner. The bad man say, why, he gave it you, and it is your own now. The good man say, that that is not right; the tobacco is yours, not the money. The bad man say, never mind, you got it, go buy some dram. The good man say, no, no; you must not do it; so I do n't know what to do, and I think to go to sleep; but the good man and the bad man keep talking all night, and trouble me; and now I bring the money back, I feel good." PRINCIPLES OR RULES OF LIFE. There is not an error more insidious, or fraught with more pernicious tendencies, than the denial of responsi- bility for one's faith, or rules of life. It would be as philosophical, and perhaps less dangerous, to deny one's accountability for his acts, and at once take off the ban of law from the thief, counterfeiter, incendiary, pirate, and murderer. The opinions and principles of men are only embodied or translated in their acts. Though circumstances of birth and education may have a great influence in determining one's principles, they do it only through the assent of his own will. They therefore become his own acts. his iwn choice. Sopbistry may 46 SELF DUTIES. perplex, and sin may vitiate, but they cannot eradicate a sense of responsibility-of merit or blame-worthiness for the rules of life we cherish. And the punitive con- sequences to a life without method, or under wrong rule, confirm this sense of accountability. Whether from heedlessness, or wilfulness, man cast inferior or pestilent seeds into his field, the valueless or noxious harvest of autumn will proclaim his responsi- bility. If a builder adopt an inferior model, or frame his timbers upon a wrong scale of measurement, an inferior or ill-proportioned edifice will disappoint his expectations, and remind him of his error. So there is a serious responsibility in laying down any rule of life, as momentous, though not distinctly perceived, issues may depend upon it. Image not, then, that it is a mat- ter of indifference what social, political, moral, and religious opinions you cherish. Let your business prin- ciples be something more than the selfish maxims of trade; your social principles something purer than cas- ual partialities or antipathies; your professional prin- ciples superior to the weak license of custom; your political principles more than hereditary prejudices, or temporary conveniences; your religious principles some- thing more than traditionary education. "Yea, and why even of yourselves judge ye not what is right " Be not defrauded out of them by the plea of liberality, a plea, which, if legitimately carried out, would silence 47 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. all rebuke of error, and extend fellowship to all vice. Yielding to circumstances and the wishes of others in matters of indifference, be immovable in your devotion to truth and virtue. Let no one trifle with your reli- gious convictions. In your balanced position with reference to questions of expediency and politeness, of truth and duty, be like one of those wondrous rocking stones, reared by the Druids, which the finger of a child might vibrate to its centre, yet the might of an army could not move from its place. -The late President of the United States Bank, once dismissed a private clerk, because the latter refused to write for him on the Sabbath. The young man, with a mother depending on his exertions, was thus thrown out of employment, by what some would call an over- nice scruple of conscience. But a few days after, when the president was requested to nominate a cashier for another bank, he recommended this very individual, mentioning the incident as a sufficient testimony to his trust-worthiness. "You can trust him," said he, "for he would n't work for me on Sunday." Be swayed by the wish of a child, the breath of va- rying circumstances within the scope of truth, justice, liberty, and purity; but let no usages of society, no entreaties of friendship, no plea of interest. carry you a hair-breadth beyond these limits. 48 SELF DUTIES. HABITS. Habit is an act repeated -a principle embodied. It is insidiously formed, there being a stronger inclination and weaker resistance to an act by each repetition. Extending to social life, habit is one of the most marked distinctions of races, nations, castes, and classes of men. A particular routine of habits distinguishes the varying conditions of civilization and various orders of society -the cavalier and the monk of the middle ages, the sailor and soldier of all countries, and with more or less distinctness, all the professions and callings in life. Though circumstances may dispose to repetition of acts, a resolute will can over-rule them, and give a new di- rection to habit. If we are responsible for an isolated act, we are more obviously for its repetition, which sup- poses time for deliberation, and estimate of consequen- ces. The repetition, increasing the good or evil conse- quences in a geometrical ratio, instead of diminishing, must enhance its merit or blameworthiness. Habit grows upon the assent of the will, and the concurrence of voluntary affections; in each repetition of an act, as link follows link in a chain, completing its comprehen- sion and binding force. Few appreciate the danger of allowing casual acts to become customary; or perceive the significance of an established course of conduct. The moral convic- tions of all men are nearly the same. The difference 49 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. between the good and the bad man, is, that one has embodied and confirmed his convictions in habits, while the other has weakened or depressed them by dissenti- ent life. While you should be wary of even isolated acts, and allow little aimless or vagrant activity, you should be doubly circumspect when an act becomes easy and seeks repetition. If evil thoughts and evil acts become habitual, they are like the small, detached fibers intertwined in the massive and powerful cable. The small tissues of hemp or flax have little strength, but combined and intertwined, they will hold a ship to its moorings against a storm, or poise a ton's weight. So the affiliation of evil thoughts and acts increases their power in geometrical ratio. An instance of prof- anation of the Sabbath is a sin of no small magnitude; a habit of Sabbath desecration is shaded with the dark- est depravity, and accessory, to a thousand crimes. The occasional use of ardent spirits is a folly, if not a vice; its habitual use is a forerunner of temporal and spiritual ruin. A single oath contracts guilt; accus- tomed profanity impairs reverence for the divine char- acter and institutions, silences prayer, and hardens the heart. So of all other vices. Their confirmation in habits diminish the hopes of your salvation, and multi- ply and strengthen the ties which bind you to an evil destiny. Bad habits become a police of devils to guard ho SELF DITTIES. you, and with infernal delight shout your approach to perdition. Studiously, then, confirm virtue by good habits. Be not content with a casual, isolated act of virtue. Re- peat the act till it acquires the uniformity and force of nature. Elevate occasional reading to a habit of men- tal discipline; occasional charity, to a habit of benefi- cence; occasional abstinence, to a habit of temperance; occasional attendance upon public worship, to a habit of observing the Sabbath; occasional reading of the Scriptures, to a habit of studying the word of God; occasional devotion, to a habit of prayer. These habits will aid native resolution, succor tempted virtue, and confirm wavering piety. They will cheer you as congenial companions along your pilgrimage, and guide you as an escort of angels through the wilderness of life to the gates of the heavenly Jerusalem. The following rules were found in the pocket-book of ihe Ho-n. Stephen Allen, late Mayor of the city of New York, and one of the victims in the burning of the steamer Henry Clay, on the North River. MAXIMS TO GUIDE YOUNG KEN. Keep good company or none. Make few promises. Always speak the truth. Live up to all your engagements. Have few very intimate friends. 51 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. Keep your own secrets, if you have any. When you speak to a person look him in the face. Good company and good conversation are the very sinews of virtue. Good character is above all things else. Never listen to loose or infidel conversation. You had better be poisoned in your blood than in your principles. Your character cannot be essentially injured except by your own acts. If any one speak evil of you, let your life be so virtu- ous that none will believe him. Always speak and act as in the presence of God. Drink no kind of intoxicating liquors. Ever live, misfortune excepted, within your income. When you retire to bed, think over what you have been doing during the day. Never speak lightly of religion. Make no haste to be rich, if you would prosper. Small and steady gains give competency with tran- quility of mind. Never play at any kind of game. Avoid temptation, through fear that you may not withstand it. Earn your money before you spend it. Never run i u debt, unless you see a way to get out agaiD. 52 SELF DUTIES. Never borrow if you can possibly avoid it. Do not marry till you are able to support a wife. Never speak evil of any one. Keep youself innocent, if you would lbe happy. Often think of death and your accountability to God. Other, and perhaps equally important rules, might be framed upon subjects not here embraced, and some of these might, perhaps, be better expressed. But we commend the example to the young, of living by rule. A spontaneous life cannot be an efficient or dignified one. Do not fancy that self-restraint and coercion are unfriendly to your interests, or inconsistent with your dignity. A young man without a standard for his con- duct independent It is the independence of the dead fish borne with the current. It is the independence of the drift-wood, approaching and receding from the shore, with the flowing and ebbing tide. It is the independence of the weather-cock, veering with every passing breeze, and reposing only upon the caprice of the winds. CHARACTER. Character is the adjusted expression of the senti- ments, dispositions, and habits. It is not determined by a single native or acquired endowment, but by many. A noble faculty may be combined with inferior qualities in a weak character; or a mean quality may be associ- 15,14 4DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. ated with exalted virtues in a strong character. The composite may be admired, while some of its ingredi- ents are repulsive. Character is also to be distinguished from reputation. The former is within us in its exact typal disposition, and is subject to our control. The latter is without us, not always and entirely corresponding with the internal habits of the soul, but determined in part by subtle influences of interest or prejudice in others, beyond our control. Reputation is but the shadow of the soul; but the proportions of a shadow may vary with the varying attitudes of the object which casts it. From the prejudiced attitude of the community, some mini- mum men cast maximum shadows, and some maximum men minimum shadows. As public sentiment is right, reputation will correspond with character, exalting a good man in the estimation of earth and heaven; as it is perverted by ignorance, interest, or passion, the qual- ities which -exhalt a man to the approbation of God, inay subject him to the reproach and persecution of his fellow-men. There will be found men of princely character with inferior reputation, and men of splendid reputation with ignoble character. The reputation of John, James, and Paul, was unenviable, but their char- acters were noble-sublime. Though not entirely responsible for reputation, you are absolutely for character. It arises from sentiments you cherish or 54 allow, and habits you follow. The designation, moral, as applied to character, evinces the popular apprehen- sion of responsibility in its formation. It supposes it to depend in its growth, upon the will-that its ele- ments are within one's power to weaken or control, or wholly eradicate at his pleasure. And if responsibility pertain to acts, principles, and habits, it is certain it must extend to character resulting from their com- bination. The formation of a noble character is the noblest aim of man. It is by this we attain our just rank in the scale of beings. Its daguerreotyped likeness is retained amid the family group, among the memorials of the family history. It is preserved in the traditionary history of a country, as a likeness in a portrait gallery. Characters linger in the public memory, as shades of the departed among the living; and they are distributed in rank and place of honor, as paintings and statues in their proper elevation and niches in a publlic.gallery. Character is the proximate distinctions of reputation, follows man from youth to old age, from realm to realm, from place to place, to his office, his country-house, to the hall of legislation. If evil, as an evil genius it shall meet him in every avenue of pleasure, and disquiet him in every position of power, as Mordecai did Haman at the king's gate. It shall cleave to him as a faithful companion or another self, and like Banquo's ghost, it 55 SELF DUTIRS.. DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. will not down at his bidding. It shall fix his distinc- tion and rank in the spiritual world, as well as in this. When adventitious disguises are stripped off, and we are seen by all intelligent beings, as we are by God, according to this standard of discrimination, the last may become first, and the first last. Pigmies may be- come giants, and giants pigmies. Dr. Johnson, apologizing to a dignitary of the Church of England, who had expressed surprise at his speaking to Robert Burns, in coarse attire, and at that time un- known to the prelate, said: " I spoke not to the boots, but to the man who stands in them." Pay not then courtly address to mere attire, equipage, splendid man- sions, or even elegant accomplishments and exalted office; but do justice to the manhood to which these trappings and accidents appertain. Revere the divinity in humanity, as it peers above all that is mean, selfish, and degrading in the passions and circumstances of hu- man life. The dignity of man is not traced in these adventitious and ephemeral distinctions: "A man's a man for a' that." In our character we must appear before God. In it resides all the virtue and all the vice of life. in it are treasured all the resources of future happiness or mis- cry. Mark well, then, the growth of character. It arises from the whole extent of human life, knowledge, 56 SELF DUTIRI. and experience, as the tree rises from the earth nour- ished by fibrous connections of roots which ramify through an ample extent of soil. Character is nourished from a thousand unsuspected sources, and by a thou- sand latent or untraced connections of life, thought, and experience. As by some recondite process, the rose- bush and the fruit-tree extract from the soil those qual- ities which impart hue to the flower and flavor to the fruit; so you are endowed with a power to extract such nutriment, and in such proportion as you please, from the soil of life. As if the tree had power to determine its own symmetrical growth, you may determine a pro- portionate and graceful development of character. You are like an artist entrusted with pencil, color, and pallet, to execute a portrait, which shall remain as his memorial on earth to succeeding generations, and be the image of his being before the bar of God and throughout eternity. 0, mortal artist! determine carefully that outline, apply with consummate skill and tireless industry the coloring, be not indifferent to the back-ground. Like the ancient artist, "n thou paintest in a long time, for a long time." Shall it be a finished image' Shall it be defective or ill-proportioned, like the image of a man wanting a limb, an ear, an eye, or deformed by an unsightly wen or other excrescence Shall it be fit to adorn a royal gallery, or deserve to be thrust aside 6 57 DUTIES OF THB YOUNG. with rubbish In the observations of friends and of the spiritual world, shall it awaken a thrill of admira- tion as a chef d'ceuvre of mortal virtue, or shall it ex- cite disgust and contempt. Let it not be given as descriptive of your character, that you dress like a fop, drink at the best saloons, smoke the finest cigar, drive the fastest horse, wear the best brace of pistols and the keenest bowie-knife, play a skillful game of cards or billiards, bet on race- horses and fighting-cocks, betray innocence, and by gen- eral profligacy, shame your parents and scandalize the community. You are as an artizan standing before a distributed font of types. You can combine these types into the most varied signification. So, sentiments, dispositions, acts, and habits, may be combined into any expression you please. What meaning will you give to life You are setting up your own history -a history to be stere- otyped and preserved in the archives of the universe. 0, artisan! study well the capabilities of expression of the alphabetical elements within your reach. Will you set up the history of a fool, a dunce, a miser, a knave, a libertine, or a fop, and leave your own name, super- scription, and seal upon it There is a remarkable luminous appearance presented to us at certain seasons of the year, after the sun has disappeared, and the twilight rays have faded away. A 58 SELF DUTIES. cone of soft light is clearly defined on the expanse of sky. It is seen distinctly, but obscures no part of the heavens-no star. It rises upon the vision like some tall spirit of heaven, wrapt in the star-mantle of our own earthly night. So exalted character peers brightly over generations and ages, and is defined in luminous distinctness on the horizon of the world's history. Thus the character of the Son of Man has been defined upon the vision of the world, making the whole moral heav- ens glow with splendors, and awakening the awe, admi- ration, and praise of generation after generation. With marked, but inferior brightness, has been defined the character of Abraham, Moses, the prophets, the apos- tles of Christ, and innumerable worthies of succeeding ages. The character of Howard and Washington will remain the admiration of succeeding ages. Emulate, if you cannot approach, the distinctions of the illustri- ous good. If you may not radiate the beams of a sun, diffuse the rays of a taper. The poet represents aspir- ing youth under the figure of a traveler ascending the Alps at twilight, waving a banner with this devise, "Ex- celsior." He steadily pursues his upward course, undi- verted by the blandishments of Pleasure calling after him, and unawed by the impending avalanche and frowning night, and ever and anon his clarion voice rings out, as he ascends, "Excelsior!" Surmounting difficulty after difficulty, rising over summit after 59 60 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. summit, when he is lost in the dim distance, a voiee falls from the sky, like a falling star, in tones of heav- enlv sweetness, "Excelsior." In the care of the body, the culture of the mind, in the discipline of the thoughts, and subjection of the passions, in industry and frugality, in system and econ- omy of time, in perseverance and faithfulness, in guard- ing your principles and forming your habits, show your- self a man. Become what man is capable of becoming, and consummate a character which may adorn earth, and shine in the ranks of heaven. CHAPTER II. DOMESTIC DUTIES. "But the hearth of home has a constant flame, And pure as vestal fire; 'T will burn, 't will burn, forever the same, For nature feeds the pyre. The sea of ambition Ls tempest-tossed, And thy hopes may vanish like foam; But when sails are shivered, and rudder lost, Then look to the light of home." MR& YFA rT IMPORTANCE OF THE FAMILY. Next in order to the duties we owe ourselves, we are led to contemplate social obligations. The family is the primary, and by far the most important, institution of society. It is the scope of the most imperative duties, tenderest affections, and most happy and ennob- ling experiences of mankind. Even the State and the Church, the only other forms of association recognized in the Scriptures, might almost be superceded in the perfection of the family institution. The family might embrace within itself the institution of social worship, DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. recognizing the patriarch as the priest; and its disci- pline and government might anticipate the beneficent influences of civil law and order. The first obligation arising from the family institu- tion, is to form a just estimate of its beneficence, and to guard its purity. The importance of the family may appear, in the first place, from its early origin, the par- ticular legislation and fearful sanctions by which it is guarded. It was instituted by our Creator, in the Gar- den. Its law is reiterated in the decalogue, and in the Jewish ritual it was enforced by the severest punish- ments. There is no subject more prominent in the records of divine legislation, and none upon which the instructions of the divine will are more clearly given in the laws of the human constitution. The law of Sinai is reiterated from the constitution of man, from every period of human history, and from the happiness or misery resulting from its observance or violation. The importance of the family law also appears from the value of the interests guarded by it. Contemplate the mutual affections and sympathies of united parents; the honorable birth-right and pure society of brothers and sisters; the moralizing influences of domestic edu- cation; the exalted happiness of the family circle; the endearing and hallowed associations of home; consti- tuting the strongest bonds of social and civil society. Says Dr. Dwight: "There is nothing in the world 62 DOMESTIC DtTIES. so venerable as the character of parents; nothing so intimate and endearing as the relation of husband and wife; nothing so tender as that of children; nothing so lovely as that of brothers." For what, would compan- ion part with companion long endeared in fervent affec- tion For what would a fond parent part with an idol- ized son or daughter, caressed in infancy, and watched in sickness and in health For what would a brother part with the affection and companionship of a sister, who has been the sun light of his happiest days, or the sister part with the confidence, protection, and affection of a brother, on whose arm she so often leaned, and whose joys so often participated Trace the memorials of these tenderest affections in the joyful experience of ten thousand happy homes, in the frantic grief, or deep toned or silent sorrow of ten thousand bereaved fami- lies. Trace them in symbols of affection and grief inscribed on the humble slab, the shaft, or marble temple in a cemetery. In visiting one of the most cultivated and beautiful of these cities of the dead, we were touched by these mementos. A costly shaft rises over a grave, bearing the inscription, "In memory of , erected by their children, as a grateful testimonial of their virtue and piety." Over another grave, a small obelisk, with the inscription, " Erected by , in memory of a beloved mother." Over another, a tall slab with the inscrip- 63 DITMES OF THE YOUNG. tion, "Erected by , in memory of his wife and children." Over a cluster of graves rose another mon- ument, bearing as an expressive device, a rose-bush. The buds more or less unfolded, were severed and lying on the ground, and the branch partly severed from the united stalk, and beneath these emblematical represen- tations of blasted beauty and scattered joys, were these words, "To my wife and children." Grave-yards and cemeteries are memorials of the beautiful affections and virtues of domestic life. These affections and virtues treasured up in the fam- ily are of more value than riches. The rights of prop- erty, sacred as they are, are subordinate to these. They are dearer than liberty, and can only be compared to life itself, often valueless without them. The law against burglary, incendiarism, forgery, and murder even, guard not interests more precious. The great importance of the family institution appears from the indescribable miseries flowing from its violation. Were this law annulled or impaired, alliances, sensual, selfish, fluctuating, and debasing, would tend to destroy all the purity, faith, and charity of rational society. Unfaith- fulness to this institution unsettles the repose of domes- tic confidence, and poisons the fountain of domestic happiness. Along the banks of the Susquehanna lived a happy pair. They were wedded. the only son and only daughter G4 DOMESTIC DUTIES. of the most respectable families in that region, and wealth had lavished upon them its advantages, and na- ture spread around them its most enchanting beauties. Their children were growing up around them to call them blessed. The passing traveler paused to admire or envy their lot. The step of the libertine is traced to that dwelling. It is as Satan's invasion of the gar- den of Eden, banishing confidence, peace, fellowship, dividing the family, involving relations in uncompromis- ing feud, and implicating the children in lasting dis- grace. The violation of this law in all the lower walks of life involves the same evils, though from the obscurity of the sufferers, not calling forth so public expression of sympathy. In their respective classes, reputation, innocence, faith, and peace are equally valuable to all. The daughter of a widow was persuaded from home. The mother sought her, traveling at different times from New York to Albany, Buffalo, and Philadelphia, paying her expenses by hardest menial services. She exclaimed with tears, "I could have buried her and my three re- maining children without murmuring, but to yield my daughter to the infamy and suffering of a living death, is more than I can bear." Thus thousands of widow's hearts are wrung with anguish, a thousand brothers covered with shame, and a thousand families plunged in misery and disgrace. 65 DUTIES OF THE VOUNO. All the violations of the family law, all the attacks upon female delicacy, all lawless alliances of the sexes, however guarded and palliated, lead to such consequen- ces. "Upon the whole," says Paley, "if we pursue the effects of this vice in all the complicated misery it occasions, and if it be right to estimate crimes by the miseries which they knowingly produce, it will appear something more than invective, to assert that not one half the crimes for which man suffers death by the laws of England, are so flagitious as this. It takes advan- tage of dependence pleading for protection, and betrays confidence unsuspecting. Where it becomes a habit, the natural stimulus to industry and frugality is gone; visions of the honorable husband, father, and citizen, have disappeared; disaffection to religious duties follows, closing the Bible, silencing the voice of prayer, and making the Sabbath irksome, engendering scepticism, and completing the greatest wreck of humanity ever seen in the world." To this single debasing influence of the vice, waiving other more general views, the Scottish Bard leads us, "Och I it hardens all within, And petrifies the feelin'." No character should be more shunned or abhorred by woman, than the known trifler with the family law. Avoid him as you would a loathsome reptile, a prowling fiend. The coiled serpent in the bosom is a friend, 66 DOMESTIC DUTIES. compared to the individual who would pollute the foun- tains of social life and destroy in you the charm of chastity, who would pluck the rose, displaying beauty and exhaling fragrance, and leave the unadorned bush and lacerating thorn. As the family is the natural state of society, it should be anticipated and discretely provided for by all, except persons of ill health, physical deformity, great perver- sity of disposition, or eccentricity of character. While neglecting one of the most palpable duties of life, fore- going its most ennobling pleasures and its highest in- centives to virtuous pursuits, he is leaving one who might have made him a happy and useful companion to pine in maidenhood of heart, through the weary day of life, less useful and happy than she might have been, had he performed his duty to himself and her. A sin- gle individual is but half an existence or unity. The social principle is universal. As the stars glide forth in companies, the flowers bloom in clustering beauty, the birds sing in their native bowers in responsive melo- dies, and the eagle cuts the cloud in his flight to his mate, or screams to him from the cleft of the rock; - so the human race are formed in pairs, and like comple- mental parts they meet in the family union. With honorable exceptions, those refraining from the true social position of man are entitled to less of the confi- dence and esteem of mankind. There is an authentic 67 68 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. or fabulous account in early Grecian history, of a cus- tom which required all the bachelors of a certain age, annually to run a gauntlet, and all the mothers and maids of the tribe applied green whips to their backs as they passed. It would perhaps be well if the scorpion lash of public sentiment could whip this numerous class of our fellow citizens into harmony with their own being, with society, and the divine providence. Be not precipitate in forming this alliance. "Marry not without means, for so shouldst thou tempt Provi- dence. But wait not for more than enough, for mar- riage is the duty, aye, the privilege of most men." Unnecessary delay is frought with evil consequences, "oThey that love early become like-minded, and the tempter toucheth them not. They grow up leaning on each other as the olive and the vine." There is a false standard as to the scale upon which a family had better commence life. The sons are anx- ious to begin where their fathers left off. A millionaire of New York told us he commenced keeping house in one room; the second year he was able to rent a second, and after that a third, until he was able to occupy a half, and then all of a house. And never did he and his frugal consort enjoy life better than in gradually improving their fortunes, adding article after article of furniture to their apartments, and luxury after luxury DomTES'rIC' DUTIES. to their table. False views of the proper economy of early married life, delay thousands from entering that state, and entail manifold evils. Society, trades, and professions owe to industrious and frugal men a compe- tency to support life in its appointed and conservative relations. And the reward of labor and skili should be graduated upon the scale of the expenses of the ap- pointed modes of life; and the competition of single men, in an abnormal state, to lower wages, should be frowned down as unnatural, and if necessary, be guarded against by association. But the comparative expensiveness of single and mar- ried life is greatly misapprehended. Thousands of young men, deferring matrimonial alliances on the ground of not possessing an income to support a com- panion, are spending annually in fashionable dress, high boarding, and social entertainments, more than would suffice for the frugal support of a family. SELECTION OF COMPANION. Select a partner for life with great circumspection. A happy marriage is the soul's Eden; an ill-assorted one is its prison. The bonds of marriage may be silken cords and wreaths of flowers, or grated bars of iron. Let not a groundless caprice or sudden impulse, deter- mine your choice. Be not deceived by the courtship of the ball-room and of holiday attire. Learn the disposi- 69 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. tions, the habits of every-day life, and the general char- acter. There should be agreement in principles, and in religious profession, if possible. There should be a congeniality of mind, a mutual esteem, and an affection transcending every other earthly affection, From the anion thus formed arise the true family circle, the sacred relations of husband and wife, parent and child, brother and sister, and those thousand endearing associations which spring from these. In the family institution, several classes of duties are distinguished. There are the reciprocal duties of hus- band and wife, so fully laid down in the Scriptures, and whose faithful observance will give freshness and vigor to social enjoyment, when youth and beauty have passed away. There are parental duties of providence, government, and instruction, underlying the whole social economy, and in their due observance facilitating the cause of civil law and order, and forming the popular mind to truth, virtue, and happiness. FILIAL DUTIES These are summed up in the Scriptures in the single obligation to honor parents. They should be honored, or preferred In affection. An oriental lady was about starting on a long journey, and requested her sons to present her with mementos of affection which she might 70 DOMESTIC DUTIES. bear with her. One of them presented her a marble tablet, on which her name was beautifully inscribed; another presented her a rich garland of fragrant flow- ers; but the third addressing hersaid: "s Mother, though I have no marble ta let, or fragrant nosegay, I have a heart; here your name is engraved-here your mem- ory is precious, and this heart, full of affection, will fol- low you wherever you travel, and remain with you wherever you resort." You cannot discharge filial ob- ligations by mere courtly attentions, by splendid pres- ents, and ceremonial respect. The heart must glow with filial gratitude, affection, and admiration, displayed In nameless daily attentions and kindness. Filial is placed next to religious devotion, by a gifted young poetess: - "And all not offered at Ifis shrine, Dear mother, I will place on thine." Parents should be honored by the most charitable in- terpretation of their conduct, and concealment of their thoughts. Partiality toward them is natural and inno- cent. Their virtues should appear brighter in the eyes of their children than in those of the uninterested world. Their faults should be more charitably judged than by censorious strangers. We honor the child who adheres to father or mother in humble circumstances, or even disgrace. The father of Archbishop Tillotson, a plain man, enquired before the Deanery for John Tillotson. 71 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. While the affected servants were about rudely to drive himn from the door, on account of his rough exterior, t he titled son, hearing his voice, rushed to the door, fell upon his neck, and kissed him, in the presence of fashion and pomp, and led him into his princely apartments. Adherence to a parent in disgrace, and even crime, can only be commended. Can a parent commit a crime which a child cannot forgive " He is my father," "She is my mother," is reason for deference, forgiveness and kindness which the whole world besides withhold. "The fondest, the purest, the truest that met, Have still found the need to forgive and forget." When the mother of Alexander was complained of by one of his deputies, in a letter, as deserving the royal censure, the sovereign replied: "' Knowest thou not that one tear of my mother's will blot out a thousand such letters " Parents should be honored by generous sacrifice to lighten the cares and enhance the happiness of declin- ing years. The example of pious Aneas bearing his aged sire upon his shoulders from the gates of burning Troy, has been celebrated by the Poet, and admired by succeeding generations. And it has been related of the siege of another ancient city, that two brothers, who had on a former occasion laid the conqueror under obli- gation, being permitted to bear away any treasures they could carry about their persons, appeared before the DOMESTIC DUTIES. gates, bearing, the one his father, and the other his mother, leaving all their countless treasures to the flames. The young should cherish a generous self-sacrifice in ministering to the happiness of their parents. Antici- pate every want, and make the descent of old age to the grave easy and peaceful. The Chinese proverb says: "In the morning when you rise enquire after your parents' health; at mid-day be not from them; in the evening comfort them when they go to rest -thus it is to be a pious son." Parents should be honored by a deferential regard for their wishes. Any pertness, or affected independence in urging one's measures or opinions against the advice of parents, even when correct, is censurable. Always differ from them reluctantly, and aim to have their ac- quiescence in your plans, to the end of life. It will be a grateful tribute to them, and creditable to yourself. When Washington was quite young he was intent upon going to sea. He had engaged himself as mid- shipman. The small boat had been sent ashore for him, and his trunk sent to the beach, when, waiting upon his mother with his farewell, and observing her continued remonstrance with falling tears and repeated sighs, suddenly recalling his paramount obligations to her wishes, he reversed his plan, and ordered the return 7 73 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. of his trunk, declaring that he would not leave home if it gave his mother so much sorrow. A Polish prince always wore the picture of his father in his bosom, and on any occasion of special importance, a crisis of difficulty or temptation, would take it out and implore, " May I act worthy of such a father." Thus bear the image of venerated parents engraven upon your hearts; and remember their wishes for your success and honor in life, and deport yourself so as to deserve the approbation of their guardian angels. Thus " honor thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." FRATERNAL DUTIES. You will honor your filial and fraternal relations by feeling yourself charged to promote the secular welfare of the family. Each family should be a mutual insur- ance company, and the loss and gains of its members distributed and equalized. Thus the advantages of the patriarchal institutions might be retained, without the paralyzing influence upon society of interdicting private enterprise and the distribution of property. And the highest moral effects would be attained in the closer affiliation of kindred, by the delicate bestowment and grateful reception of assistance. The injunction to provide for one's household, binds all the members of 74 DOMESTIC 'DUTIES. the family to co-operate in such provision. If the head of the family, overlooking this duty, is worse than an infidel; the other meiiers, disclaiming the obligation, are not free from sin. Never enjoy luxury or wealth and leave a deserving parent, brother, or sister in want and discomfort. If in affluence, be ashamed to allow even a distant relation to live upon the charity of stran- gers. The use of poor-houses and asylums would be almost superseded by the revival of patriarchal charity. It were an honor to rise in the world with your rising kindred. It may be a disgrace to rise while they are left in the vale of obscurity and want. EDUCATION. Make home an institution of learning. Provide books for the center-table and library of the family. See that all the younger children attend the best schools, and interest yourself in their studies. If they have the taste for thorough cultivation, but not the means to pur- sue it, if possible provide for a higher education. Dan- iel Webster taught at the intervals of his College course, to aid an elder brother in the pursuit of a clas- sical education, and a volume of his works is dedicated to the daughters of that brother, who early closed a brilliant career. Feel that an ignorant brother or sis- ter will be a disgrace to your family; and trust not the prevention of such a reproach to the casual influ- DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. ence of the press, existing institutions, and the kind offices of strangers. If the family becomes, as it may be, an institution of learning, the whole land will be educated. SPHERE OF PLEASURE AND PURE AFFECTIONS. Cultivate good nature and amiable manners in the family. A good nature is one of the sweetest gifts of Providence. Like the pure sunshine, it gladdens, enli- vens, and cheers. It dissipates the misty clouds of hate, revenge, sorrow, and despair. Some men always look at the dark side of events and characters, and they are always in trouble; every thing goes wrong; a frown is on the brow from morning till night, in their places of business and in their houses. Let it never be forgotten that genuine politeness is a great fosterer of family love; it allays accidental irri- tation by preventing harsh retorts and rude contradic- tions; it soften the boisterous, stimulates the insolent, sup- presses selfishness, and by forming a habit of considera- tion for others, harmonizes the whole. Politeness begets politeness, and brothers may be easily won by it to leave off the rude ways they bring from school or college. Sisters ought never to receive any little attention with- out thanking them for it, never to ask a favor of them but in courteous terms, never to reply to their questions in monosyllables, and they will soon be ashamed to do 76 DOMESTIC DUTIES. such things themselves. Be near a brother or sister in festive scenes, and forsake them not in sickness or misfortune. Make the family a scene of improving rec- reations and social gaiety. Let no other place have for brothers and sisters the attractions of your own parlor and fireside. Let no pleasures or friends rival those enjoyed beneath the paternal roof. The pleasures of home are available to all-most ennobling, and most conservative. If homes are made happy, the race can- not be miserable. Let there be light in our dwellings, and the land cannot be dark. Encourage the etiquette of morning and evening salutations and caresses; of respectful request and suitable acknowledgment for fa- vors. The perfume of such amiable manners does not depart from the character or the home; as the aroma of flowers never evaporate from the crystal vase in which they have been preserved. The poet has beautifully appealed to the tenderness of fraternal affections, and the hallowed associations by which they are fostered, and their corresponding duties enforced "We are but two, the others sleep Through death's untroubled night; We are but two, then let us keep The link that binds us bright. "Heart leaps to heart, the sacred flood That warms us Is the same; That good old man, his honest blood Alike we fondly claim. 77 DIUTIES OF THE YOUNG. "We in one mother'd arms were locked- Long be her love repaid; In the; same cradle we were rocked, By the same hearth we played. "Our boyish sports were all the same, Each little joy our own; Let manhood keep alive the flame, U1t up so long ago. "We are but two, be that the bond To hold us till we die: Shoulder to shoulder let us stand, Till side by side we lie." An only sister is as dear as an only brother. What can be purer than her caresses, what more heavenly than her smile. The memory of her kindness and the consciousness of her affections cheer us in sickness, sor- row, and absence, and are a balm to the wounded heart, and beacons of hope and happiness. Nor do the ten- derness and power of the poet's appeal depend upon the limited number of the family circle. The golden links which bind the family in unity and fellowship, are equally precious, few or many. SCHOOL OF VIRTUE. The domestic altar is the last and most sacred retreat of virtue on earth. But its guardianship is not confined to parental authority and influence. It finds sure 'defenses in fraternal sympathy and example. Every young man has been appointed by Providence his brother's and his sister's keeper. And the same sacred 78 DOMESTI(C DUTIES. charge is confided to every young woman. Allow no companionship in the family which might injure the sen- sitive delicacy of virtue. By remissness here many a young man has been accessory to the ruin, shame, or lasting misery of a beloved sister. Allow no publica- tion or book of bad or equivocal character to lie on the center-table, or to be thrown in the way of brothers and sisters. By precept and example guide the roli- gious habits of confiding age and the dispositions of susceptible hearts. By cherishing the proper affections of home you will guard its virtues. Cherish those af- fections as more precious than wealth, and let them not be sacrificed to an inadvertance or to a venial error. The bonds of virtue are strengthened in the perpetuity of these affections. Let the "n Loved ones at Home" be often sung in the family group. " Be kind to thy father, for when thou wert young, Who loved thee so fondly as he He caught the first accents that tall from thy tongue, And joined In thy innocent glee. "Be kind to thy father-for now he is old, His locks intermingled with gray; His footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold, Thy father is passing away. "Be kind to thy mother-for, lo! on her brow May traces of sorrow be seen; Oh, wonc may'st thou cherish and comfort her now, For loving and kind bath she been. "Remember thy mother-for thee will she pray, As long as God giveth her bIreath; 793 80 DVTIES 01 THE YOUNG. With accents of kindness then cheer her lone way, K'en to the dark valley of death. "Be kind to thy brother - his heart will have deartl If the smile of thy joy be withdrawn; The flowers of feeling will fade at their birth, If the dew of affection be gone. "lie kind to thy brother -wherever thou art, The love of a brother shall be An ornament purer and brighter by far, Than pearls from the depths of the ea "Be kind to thy sister -not many may know The depth of true sisterly love; The wealth of the ocean lies fathoms below The surface that sparkles above." As we advance in our associated journey, voice after voice may be hushed, form after form vanish from our side, and our shadow fall almost solitary on the hill- side of life. But our kindred in Christ have almost wholly gone from us. They are only a little in advance of us, and we see across the river of earth in the blue distance the standard moving over the line of their march, or the smoke of their encampment curling up toward heaven. " Death never separates; the golden wire, That trembled to their names befbre, Shall vibrate still, though every form expire, And those we love we look upon no more." Follow the footsteps of sainted parents and grand- parents. Seek that in the new heavens and new earth you may all be saved-no wanderer lost-a family in heaven. If any relations, affections, or memorials sur- DOMESTIC DUTIES. vive mortal dissolution, they must be those pertaining to the family. If any flowers of earthly growth will flourish in a heavenly clime, they are those cultivated by the hand of domestic affection, and in the sunlight of home. As the misery of the lost will be aggravated by the companionship of kindred, so the happiness of the re- deemed will be enhanced by the association of the remembered and the loved. The family preserves for the heavenly state most of earth that is worth cherish- ing. Endeared families now dread bereavement, ban- ishment from each other's presence. How much more dreadful eternal separation. How dear the re-gather- ing and temporal association of dispersed kindred; more delightful will be the final re-gathering and un- ending association in heaven. 8 81 This page in the original text is blank. CHAPTER III. PATRIOTIC DUTIES. "Then said the mother to her sou, And pointed to his shield, 'Come WITH It when the battle'" done, Or of It from the field-."' Rl. MONTGOMxBY. PATRIOTISM. Patriotism, in order and importance, ranks next to domestic virtues. Its achievements have been por- trayed by the historian, celebrated by poets and orators, and commemorated by painters and sculptors. The story of the three hundred Spartans sacrificing their lives to the glory of their country; of Regulus spurn- ing freedom and wealth offered for the compromise of the honor of Rome; and of Washington, presenting him- self as the mark of a powerful nation's vengeance, to protect the feeble colonies; and then laying aside power, and retiring to private life, will be repeated to the young by parents and teachers in terms of glowing eulogy to the latest generations. Patriotic devotion may be due to a certain extent, irrespective of the attractions of a land. But it is fos- 84 DTIES O(F TIlE YOUNG. tered to a more generous enthusiasm and self-sacrifice by the superior advantages and glory of a country. If the Laplander, amid banks of eternal snow; or the Russian, writhing beneath the heel of oppression; or the Turk, a tool of lust and capricious power; or the Chinaman, immersed in his seclusion from the world, where ignorant hordes are born and die in poverty and stupidity, can shout, and fight, and die for his country, what ought not American youth to feel, and do, and dare, and suffer for their country What is England's glory as queen of the seas; France with her vine-clad hills and classic groves, Italy with her sunny skies and genial clime, and mementos of other days of grandeur! -What are they, compared with our own great land of prairie and sloping hill, of broad rivers and rolling lakes, of wide savannahs, of continents of corn, and wheat, and cotton; of cane and grass, and grazing herds; of towns, and cities, and States; of busy millions of free, happy, thriving people, with schools, colleges and churches at their doors, with telegraphs, railroads, and libraries in all their towns -What are they, huddled and cramped in their crowded little corners, jostling against each other at every turn, compared with our own broad sweep of territory, stretching from sunrise to sunset, the unbroken solitudes of which would hide the European millions from the light of the sun and the light of the world We have room to strive. and labor, 84 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. and grow, and enough to grow on. If ever youth had the stimulus of all things great and glorious to awa- ken their patriotism and stir their young blood in their country's behalf, the youth of America must be the fa- vored ones. Liberty's home, freedom's cradle, religion's altar, humanity's shrine, learning's retreat, the ark of safety, and the olive branch of peace, are all theirs." Who can fail to love such a country! Patriotism has ample scope without degenerating into injustice or pre- judice. PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. You owe your country a degree of familiarity with the genius and history of her political institutions. Government is a necessity of beings with associated interests, but various intelligence, prejudice, and opin- ions. It is therefore a natural and divine appointment. "The powers that be are ordained of God;" that is, power or rule, and the correlative state of subjection to authority, is a clear necessity of the race; but not spe- cifically its perverted powers of tyranny and misrule. But as not every wrong act alienates parental authority, so not every act of civil oppression or misrule divests an existing government of its authority. An existing institution must remain binding on the conscience, so far as it does not require an infraction of the divine law, until substituted by another institution. Duty to 85 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. government may be modified by duty to God. The authority of civil government in its proper idea is derived avowedly or tacitly from the people. The laws of justice are confided to the people, to be instituted and embodied by them; and by representation, or more commonly by tacit submission, they inaugurate govern- nment. Its authority, efficiency, and sacredness are lodged in the expressed or implied assent of the people. No government or law is obligatory, nor should be enforced, which contravenes the common sense of jus- tice of the governed people. The dogma that authority is a sacred deposit in the hands of the few, for the control of the many, that it is hereditary, and its possessor responsible to God alone for its exercise, has been exploded by the progressive intelligence of the age. The national sovereignty is now recognized in the aggregate will of the people, who are the original source and ultimate depository of hu- man authority. Magistracy is but a trust from them, reclaimable at their pleasure, and to be executed con- formably to their will. And constitutions are but self-instituted methods of self-government, to prevent ill-advised action, but never intended to contravene the deliberately formed and firmly cherished wishes of the majority of the people. So far as political institutions and measures of government run counter to God's word, and commen- 86 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. surately to the interests of the people, opposing a per- fect state of society, and maintaining causes of discon- tent and revolution, they may, by a law above human laws and earthly sovereignties, be protested against, opposed, and by discreet methods provided in the con- stitutions of good government themselves, or by assent and co-operation of the people where in bad govern- ments that right has been denied, be revised, amended, and conformed to the claims of individual and social justice. By constitutional reforms, when possible; by revolutionary, when gentler methods have been resisted; the people have a right to attain the ends of govern- ment. As constitutional checks have been imposed by the people, they may be removed by them. They are designed not to overrule, but to prevent the hasty, and secure the deliberate and conservative action of the people. According to the democratic theory of gov- ernment, no constitution can avail permanently against the settled will of a majority of the people. The con- stitution is but the embodiment of that effective but varying will. The ideal system of civil justice has been but parti- ally attained in preceding ages and different countries. The just distribution of civil government through many independent kingdoms has been an auspicious arrange- ment for the peace and progress of human society. As the plague diffuses itself through a contiguous popula- 87 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. tion, or a conflagration spreads through a block of con- tiguous buildings, so the evils of ambition or despo- tism in a concentrated government might have extended to the outermost limits of universal society, instead of being circumscribed by the boundaries of continents, islands, peninsulas, or small states. By many experiments of civil polity, the principles and arts of government are more likely to be perfected and commended to universal adoption. The distribu- tion of a limited sovereignty among the States of the American confederacy, is auspicious for the New World and our glorious Republic. Government would else, extending over such variety of climates, interests, and communities, become oppressive, chafing, and irritating, like a warrior's coat of mail without joints. Study the accessories of freedom and despotism in other social and religious institutions. A conflict for religious lib- erty parallel to the contest for civil liberty has been maintained between different forms of ecclesiastical gov- ernment. Freedom in Church and State abet each other; and despotism in Church and State always league together. Distinguish between those forms of ecclesiastical polity which have abetted, and those which have been hostile to civil liberty -those which defend the rights of the people and confide government to them, and those which make them mere automatons. In the language, "1 No bishop, no king," James taught 88 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. a great lesson of political wisdom-the Inherent and universal tendency of hierarchy in the Church to sup- port monarchy in the State. By this distribution, it is an easy and convenient in- stitution. There is a scope for various experiments in reformatory law, example, emulation, and more minute direction of the popular will. All Americans should study to some extent the history and philosophy of government, and particularly the genius, and institu- tions, and annals of our Republic. As the people, upon the theory of the Republic, are the sovereigns, they are as much bound to comprehend its general operations as the monarch or his ministry under the old theory of civil rule. When the philosophy of government shall have been popularized by the school, the press, and the awakened energy of the people, the race will rise and shake off the superannuated institutions of ages, as Sam- son divested himself of the withes insidiously fastened upon his limbs. The monstrous fallacies of hierarchy and State will pass away as a disastrous eclipse from the sun, ushering in the day of the world's political emancipation. Government will appear more sacred when divested of political imposture, and traced to its just authority, and enforced by its just sanctions. As Napoleon's career awakened the scepticism of the world in regard to the hereditary and irresponsible character of govern- 89 DUTIES OF THE YOUNo1. ment; so the successful experiment of the American Republic may demonstrate the theory of the self-gov- ernment of the people. CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT. Preserve inviolable constitutional government. A constitution is only a self-prescribed mode of self-gov- ernment. Every literary club, or scientific or political association, or benevolent institution, defines in a consti- tution its objects, and describes the mode of its pursuit. The constitution is not intended to be a restraint upon the just liberties of an association; but to prevent hasty change, and give permanence and confidence to its operations. The forms of partnership, contract, and bonds in business, are not designed to restrict, but to guard the rights of trade, and give confidence and sta- bilitv to commerce. Similar is the relation of constitutional forms to dem- ocratic government. To guard against hasty action of the people under passion, impulse, or partial informa- tion, which might unsettle and modify the rights of property or the relations and rights of citizens. They are not designed to bar the well considered and ultimate decision of the people, on any question of social justice or political expediency. But they are of the most sacred obligation, as the embodiment of the will of 90 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. the people, until substituted by some authenticated expression of the popular voice. Existing governments, and especially the American declaration of independence and constitution, have been reared by the experience,, and founded in the settled reason of mankind. They embody the accumulated wisdom of ages. Principles thus established, and insti- tutions thus framed should be revered. He who touches them lightly or with an inexperienced hand, may be smitten with as signal vengeance, as he who once put forth a presumptuous hand to steady the ark of the Lord. There is less justification ot interference with the established order of government, from the fact that citizenship is not constrained, but voluntary. Existing institutions are a rational ground for determining one's choice of country. And for ancestral customs more than for naked lands, have men been willing to jeopard their lives. The native may expatriate himself, and the foreigner land upon other shores, if displeased with the constitution of our Republic. Any infraction of its order in the local or general government, in " filibuster- ing" movements at home or abroad, is a deliberate and most dangerous crime. And any impatience or infraction of the established order of the government is the more unreasonable and wicked, because it comprises within itself the elements of all just and rational amelioration and progress. 91 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. Observing all the compromises of the constitution, there is still scope for improvement. Freedom of speech, of the pres and of suffrage, may remove in order all abuses, and introduce all beneficent reforms. Hence the revision of municipal charters and State constitu- tions. Our constitution provides for conservative pro- gress. So long as the majority can ultimately rule in the general and State governments, and in town and municipal administration, what more can any reasonable man desire! Constitutions and charters providing for their own revision, guard effectually against the contra- vention of the great principles they were originated to conserve, through change of circumstances or the mis- apprehension of technical language. Rightly under- stood, they are progressive, as well as conservative, instruments. By such provision they talke away all reasonable motive for violating their spirit and principles. If on any point they are proved to overlook justice, they may, by being conformed to public opinion and progressive legislation, he adapted to its conservation. Thus the constitution of State after State has been revised during the past quarter of a century. Good men will, therefore, abide the law and lawful methods of progress and reform. Christianity does not favor violent changes, but rather gradual improvement. Hence, subjection even 92 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. to Roman laws was enforced, and the intelligent follow- ers of Christ in no age have been implicated directly in insurrections and revolutions. There is a conservative, law-abiding spirit presiding in the church; and consti- tutional government has in her discipline a just sacred- ness. In the worst of times, and however you may differ in respect to men and means, still cling to the constitution. Let that be the center of conciliation, as the domestic altar is of the peace of the family. The institutions based upon the constitution are the ark of our political safety, the cradle of liberty, in which we were rocked. It is the birth-right inheritance of Amer- ican citizens. The deed that conveys it was written in the blood of our fathers, and sealed beside their sepulchers. Those impatient of constitutional progress and the march of providence, pursuing vague or impracticable ideas of justice, and trampling under their feet the polit- ical traditions of our ancestors, and assailing with impious hands our venerable constitution, are among the most dangerous enemies of the Republic. Each citizen should regard himself as a policeman of the law, a sentinel of the temple of constitutional liberty: "Constant as a pilot, well expert In perilous waves, That to a steadfast star his course hath bent." Many seem to regard it an object to evade or facilitate 9)3 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. the escape of others from the jurisdiction of law. But it is a serious error. The law, as the embodiment of justice, appeals to all for its protection and enforcement It is a fault for any one to shrink from its support; for a magistrate it is an aggravated crime. The law is a rope of sand, a tissue of cobwebs, without the coun- tenance and corroboration of public sentiment. While the legal profession may avail themselves of the technicalities of the law to set aside its spirit, citi- zens should guard its spirit as well as its letter. Let not corruption reach the ballot box. Prevent illegal voting, and discountenance betting upon elections. Guard the purity of trial by jury. By various sinister means this great right is too often perverted to defeat the aims of justice. Through able counsel and influen- tial friends, change of court and place of trial are effected upon grounds never contemplated by the constitution, to escape rather than to secure justice. A civil func- tionary told the writer that he had himself seen empan- nelled seven out of the twelve jurors in a trial for murder, who had themselves been indicted for murder or manslaughter! How manifest a result of corruption! Let not the ermine of the judiciary or the inferior mag- istracy be soiled by bribery or prejudiced administra- tion of law. In some instances justice has been so outraged by its appointed guardians, that the people have risen in indignation, and burnt judges in effigy, or 94 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. taken tbe administration of justice into their own hands. It is, in part, because the law and courts cannot be re- lied upon, that mob law prevails, and personal revenge is so often taken; when law can be relied upon, affrays of violence will be less frequent. There is no greater mark of political degeneracy, than the intriguing of talent and wealth to set aside the law, unrebuked by the indignant people. Be more vigilant and importunate for justice when unsupported by wealth and patronage. Partiality in law betrays law; and the highest patriotism is evinced in a defense of justice in the weak, the defenseless, the poor. If you will sell justice for money you are a sor- did traitor. If you will yield it to a corrupt public sentiment you are a cowardly betrayer of your country; if you will part with it for friendship you are not a patriot. The divine surrender of the Son of God to the demands of justice, is a great typical fact, as well as a means of salvation. And the yielding up of an only son or brother to the avenging law, may have commemorated the purest period in the administration of civil justice. Guard the constituted authority as the palladium of national liberties, the ark of national safety, the bond of national union, the cement of national greatness and power. By defending the constitution and abiding law, you evince a truer patriotism than by displaying ban- 1915 DUTIES OF THU YOUNG. ners, burning gunpowder, and boasting of the greatness of the Republic. Guard against detailed and insidious attacks, as well as general conspiracy and menacing corruption. Stand universally by law and order. Con- tend for it against any odds of numbers, wealth, or public sentiment; "contend for it while a drop of blood is propelled from your heart, or a shred of muscle clings to your bones. Triumph with law, order, and religion, or fall martyrs to them." PARTY SPIRIT. Diversity of knowledge and difference of circumstan- ces necessitate the existence of parties in Republics. They preserve a closer scrutiny upon the government, facilitate a more thorough trial of measures, a larger parti(cipation of the people in the study and conserva- tion of the government, a check upon insidious tenden- cies to evil, and a restraint upon designing men. But there are many dangers incident to the existence of parties in Republics. You are liable to place party above country, and sink the claims of justice in the pursuit of its triumph; to substitute names for princi- ples, and rejoice in the spoils of office more than in ascendance of useful measures. It is humiliating to see statesmen, on practical measures, or the interpreta- tion of the constitution, file off to the dictation of parties; to see judicial decisions reversed upon party 96 97 grounds; elections carried by bribery; politicians seek- ing more the spoils of office than the interests of the country; the mutual aspersions and vilifications of the party press; the denial of sincerity or wisdom in a political opponent; the exaggeration of the differences of parties, rather than commendation of their agree- ment. These evils, incident to free governments, may be lessened and rendered comparatively harmless. While you belong to a party be not a partisan. Ad- here to a party because you honestly embrace its prin- ciples, and by timely protest, and even dissent, hold it amenable to truth and justice. While parties are sin- cere they are useful, conservative, and safe. So far as they become insincere and selfish, they sacrifice or jeopard the interests of the state. Give your hand to honest men of all parties. Says Henry Clay: "'The great body of the Democrats, as well as the Whigs, are so from conviction that their policy is patriotic. I take the hand of one as cordially as that of another, for all are Americans. I place country far above all parties. Look aside from that, and parties are no longer worthy of being cherished." The duty of a citizen to the state, especially v respect to parties and popular movements, is thus for- cibly stated by Andrew Fuller: "Whatever may be the duty of a nation in extraor- dinary cases, there is scarcely anything in all the New 9 PATRIOTI'C DUTE'1S. DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. Testament inculcated with more solemnity, than that individuals, and especially Christians, should be obedi- ent, peaceable, and loyal subjects; nor is there any sin much more awfully censured than the contrary conduct. It requires not only that we keep within the compass of the laws, (which is easily done by men of the most unprincipled minds,) but that we honor and intercede with God for those who administer them. These duties were pressed particularly upon the Romans, who by their situation were more exposed than others to the tempta- tion of joining in factions and conspiracies, which were almost continually at work in that tumultuous city. ",Nor does the danger belong exclusively to one side. If we enlist under the banners of the party in power, considered as a party, we shall feel disposed to vindi- cate or palliate proceedings which may be very incon- sistent with Christianity. Paul, though he enjoined obedience to the existing government, yet never was an advocate for Roman ambition; and when addressing himself to a governor, did not fail to reason on right- eousness and judgment to come. " The great point with Christians should be, an at- tachment to government as government, irrespective of the party which administers it. We are not called to yield up our conscience in religious matters, nor to approve what is wrong in those which are civil: but we are not at liberty to deal in acrimony or evil speaking. 98 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. The good which results to society from the very worst government upon earth, is great when compared with the evils of anarchy. On this principle, it is probable, the Apostle enjoined obedience to the powers that were, even during the reign of Nero. Christians are soldiers under the King of kings; their object should be to conquer all ranks and degrees of men to the obedience of faith. - If we enter into the spirit of the gospel, though we may have our preferences of men and measures, we shall bear good will to all; and whoever is at the head of affairs, we shall reverence the powers that be. What- ever be our private opinion of the men, we shall re- spect and honor the rulers. That loyalty which operates only with the prevalence of a party, whichever it be, is at a great remove from the loyalty enjoined by the Scriptures. "By standing aloof from all parties, as such, and approving themselves the friends of government and good order, by whomsoever administered, Christia would acquire a dignity of character worthy of their profession, and would possess greater opportunities of doing good, while by a contrary conduct they render one part of the community their enemies, and the other, I fear, derive but little spiritual advantage from being their friends." Sectional partyism is of lower and more mischievous 99 DUTIES F THE YOUNG, type than that based upon alleged principles. That has always seemed a low-bred religion, that seeks its distinction upon local or sectional grounds; courting the good opinions of those living on one side of a line of latitude or longitude, but traducing those residing on the other side. And that statesmanship which bases its distinctions upon the sectional divisions of our country appears to us mean and mischievous. It appeals to men's passions and prejudices as capital to promote division and strife, and to secure a distinction from a dismembered section of a community which would be denied by an entire and dispassionate commonwealth. How noble the language of Webster, commending a just pride in our American statesmen, irrespective of the latitude or longitude of their birth-place or the place of their residence: "The Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Marions -Americans all-whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circum- scribed within the same narrow limits. Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Carolina name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom No, sir; increased gratification and delight, rather. I thank God, that if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able to raise mortals to the skies; I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit 100 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, Sir, in my place here, in the Senate, or else where, to sneer at public merit, because it happens to spring up beyond the little limits of my own State or neighborhood; when I refuse for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to such talent, to elevate patriotism, to sincere devotion to liberty and the coun- try; or if I see an uncommon endowment of heaven- if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of the South-and if moved by local prejudice, or gan- grened by State jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. rr Though the blessings of union may not compensate for the compromise of justice-and union has been the plea of civil and religious despotism in each succeeding era -it must be borne in mind that sectional jealousies and dissensions are the bane of all popular govern- ments. Our Republic will be made the occasion for fanatics and ambitious demagogues at home, and the vantage ground for enemies abroad. Overlook not, then, the advantages of the American Union; it is worthy of compromise and sacrifice. To perpetuate it is true patriotism. It is fraught with good to countless generations and future ages. It widens the scope for the reforms of time, and experience, and of Christianity. May that impassioned prayer of the greatest of modern 101 DUTIES OP THE YOUNG. intellects glow in the bosom of every American to the latest generation:- "I' When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glo- rious Union, and States dissevered, discordant, belliger- ent! Or a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, with fraternal blood! Let their last feeble and iingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original luster, not a stripe erased nor polluted, not a single star obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as, " What is all this worth' Nor those other words of delusion and folly, -Liberty first, anion afterwards;' but every where, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing in all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind, under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every American heart, 'Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable! '" POPULAR EDUCATION, The promotion of popular education is a high duty eyf patriotism. What constitutes a State Not a broad territory of forest and prairie; hordes of savages or 102 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. semi-barbarous tribes; but a community of rational beings. And as that community rises in culture above the lower orders of animal creation and the savage tribes, does the State rise in dignity, power, and glory. Material measurement cannot determine the magnitude of the state. Athens was a greater power than the countless millions of cotemporaneous nomadic tribes. It was her science, literature, and arts, that made Athens the mistress of the world, and the admiration of all succeeding ages. The record of her triumphs and her overthrow has been preserved in the midst of the unwrit- ten ruins of a thousand barbarous States. Ages of suc- ceeding darkness have not obscured her glory -the ravages of Time have not obliterated her monuments. By scientific arts the British Islands have consoli- dated an empire more vast, magnificent, and powerful than any empire of antiquity. By superior knowledge and tact she is guiding the destinies of the old empires of the East. By a slight infusion of knowledge into the popular mind of Russia, she has been enabled to assume a loftier attitude, and take a higher stand among the nations. Thrones and dynasties are maintained in their elevation by the commensurate elevation of the people, as the peaks of the Alps and Andes are elevated toward heaven by aspiring mountain ranges. As the man of erudition, by aid of machinery, stir- passes in capacity of action, the wandering bushman, 103 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. or the nomadic savage; so does the cultivated comr munity, the unlettered tribe. With fertile lands and numerous population, many States are inefficient, a prey to internal dissensions and to foreign powers; while others, with barren lands and sparse population, are united, respected, and effective: "Yet on these hills, and on the sand, The church-spire and the school-house stand; And what her rugged soil denies, The harvest of the soul supplies. "The riches of that Commonwealth Are free, strong minds, and hearts of health, And more to her than gold and gain, Are the sturdy hand and cultured brain.' An ignorant people cannot become a prosperous and powerful nation, nor even maintain a republic at all. The magistracy and laws will represent the character of the constituency. The whole policy and tone of government, through successive elections, sink to the standard of the popular intelligence and character. In effect, to them are submitted through their representa- tives the great problems of government and social life. These will be wisely or unwisely settled, according to the intelligence or ignorance of the people. The State may rise and stand in the intelligence of the people, or decline and fall in their ignorance. Popular education, then, properly becomes the care of the State. It is necessary to its safety and power. 104 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. It is as obviously its duty as the construction of roads, and the Improvement of harbors, and the navigation of rivers, or the maintaining of an army and navy and munitions of war, or provision for the currency. But the education of the State should be based upon com- mon principles. While all sects and parties may con- duct a sectarian education, the State can properly only encourage catholic education. It must not take cogni- zance of, or furnish the means for a German, Irish, French, or any foreign or sectarian, but only an Ameri- can school. A common education adds to its intrinsic value an assimilating power, and is especially impor- tant in a heterogenious population from all lands, lan- guages, and creeds. Let the children of this various population pass through the same schools, and they will all become Americans-brothers. But separate them in education, as they have been in birth and are in creeds, and national schism is fostered, and castes and classes will arise among us, threatening disruption and downfall of empire. Let the just arrangements for a common school be made. But among things to be assumed as the basis of any American Union, are the constitution, and the catholic character of the Scrip- tures, and the freedom of thought and religion. Those who deprecate or distrust these as sectarian, are them- selves the most dangerous of all schismatics. The facilities for education are ample. The teacher 10 105 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. is abroad, and honored in his profession. The States provide ample endowments, school houses, and libraries. The issues of the press fly abroad as the leaves of autumn to every neighborhood and hamlet. Our polit- ical institutions are but the departments of a great University, for educating the masses of the people, sharpening the reason, developing intelligence, and awakening love of truth. Our very shops and count- ing houses, by the spirit of liberty are made institutions of science, and our homes, halls of learning, art, and music. Our regard for education should include all means of intellectual and mechanical improvement of the country, higher institutions of learning and professional schools, public libraries, mechanical and agricultural institutes. All these conduce to the higher education of the people and the higher prosperity and glory of the State. They hasten the time when intellectual and moral regimen shall supersede that of brute force, and the superiority of the race shall be displayed in arts of peace and the achievements of intellect. RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS. An intelligent patriotism will foster religious institu- tions as the firmest bulwark of the Republic. The sen- timent of Washington is founded in the profoundest wisdom, and supported by the concurring testimony of 106 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. the wise and the good of all ages:-", Of all dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. And in vain will that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who shall labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness -these firmest props of the duties of men and citi- zens." And in concluding an oration celebrating the birth-day of the father of his country, Daniel Webster eloquently corroborates the same opinion:- ",Unborn ages and visions of glory crowd upon my soul: the realization of all these, however, is in the hands and good pleasure of Almighty God. But under his divine blessing, it will be dependent on the char- acter and virtue of ourselves and posterity. If we and our posterity shall be true to the Christian religion; if we and they shall live always in the fear of God, and shall respect his commandments; if we and they shall maintain just moral sentiments, and such consci- entious convictions of duty as shall control the heart and life, we may have the highest hopes of the future of our country. But if we and our posterity reject religious instruction and authority, violate the rules of eternal justice, trifle with the injunctions of morality, and recklessly destroy the political constitution which holds us together, no man can tell how suddenly a catastrophe may overwhelm us, that shall bury all our glory in profound obscurity. If that catastrophe 107 8DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. shall happen, let it have no history; let the horrible narrative never be written; let its fate be like that of the lost books of Livy, which no human eye shall ever read; or the missing Pleiad, of which no man can ever know more than that it is lost, and lost forever." In confirmation of these views, that profound reli- gious philosopher, John Foster, says: "No form of government will be practically good, as long as the nations to be governed are in a controversy, by their vices and irreligion, with the Supreme Governor." Depravity in individual and social life assimilates civil institutions to its own standards. "x It will," in the language of Foster, "pervert even the very schemes and operations by which the world would be im- proved, though their first principles were as pure as heaven; and revolutions, great discoveries, aug- mented science, and new forms of polity, will become in effect what may be denominated the sublime me- chanics of depravity." National and martial defenses of the State sustain the same relation to moral and social virtue,-the stamina of the body politic, that houses and attire for sheltering and protecting the race, do to the vi- tality of the human system. No comfortable cloth- ing or convenient habitation can be a substitute for vitality of constitution. If this decline, man pines 108 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. in inefficiency or misery, even in regal robes and royal palaces. So, if popular virtue decline, the State sinks in prema- ture decrepitude; becomes a prey to internal dissensions, or ultimately to some foreign power. Standing armies and navies, and all coercive powers, with their enormous expenses and demoralization, are only a token of the fearful extent of a want of moral rule, and an attempt to make up that want. The sedative power of indi- vidual conscience and justice, would anticipate the coer- cion and security of such authority and defenses. This power obviates the necessity of expensive enforcements of law, and a people, in proportion to its prevalence, become a law unto themselves. Without a due pro- portion of this power, Republicanism is a wild phantasy; and in proportion to its prevalence, it is natural and harmless, and evinces its adaptations to the highest conditions of human society. This influence is silent, like the growth of the vege- table kingdom, perfecting utility and beauty without noisy demonstration; like gravitation, unobserved, per- vading all matter and extending to all worlds, search- ing every part, abyss, and height of this globe, and holding all in subjection, harmony, and strength. It is the vitalizing principle of the spiritual world, quicken- ing its processes, preserving it from decay, renewing its beauty and strength, as electricity is of the material 109 DUTJI8 OF THE YOUNG. world. Let then the Sabbath and ordinances of reli- gion be observed. Let altars rise on every hill-top; let the spires of churches rise as electric rods to avert the wrath of heaven. To the young, these interests of law and order, education and religion, are committed. Each generation in the improvement of society, may form a new era. Says Lord Bacon: An If we would anticipate the character of a nation twenty years to come, we must examine the character of young men from sixteen to twenty years of age." What then shall the State be You are soon to be- come its legislators, magistrates, and citizens, to culti- vate its farms and gardens, conduct its factories, teach its schools, direct its institutions of arts and sciences. As the spring is the promise of the year, you are the hope of the nation. If the promise of spring is blighted or cut off, a desolate autumn, and dreary winter are foreboded. The virtues which embellish individual character, adorn the family and beautify the State. Upright men and happy families make an honorable and prosperous nation. Said William Penn, writing to the mother country :-"Let none but working men come to the colony; no idle gentlemen, for they are of no use any- where." So idle, or prodigal, or ignorant, or vicious persons, add little to the wealth or strength of the State. While those virtues which enrich individuals 110 PATRIOTIC DUTIES. 11 and render families prosperous, make a Commonwealth affluent, powerful, and happy, good men at the plow, in the shop, in the counting-house, do more for the State than idle and noisy politicians. Every good man is strengthening, every bad man is undermining, the foundations of the State. This page in the original text is blank. CHAPTER IV. DUTIES OF PHILANTHROPY. "Homo smm, et humani me nil allonum puto.-TERENCE. "I am a man, and regard nothing human foreign to me." KINDLY SENTIMENTS TOWARD UNIVERSAL MAN. Philanthropy, according to the signification of the term, is evinced in kindly sentiments toward the whole human brotherhood. The claims of remote nations should not be sunk in devotion to our own neighborhood or country. The philanthropic aspect of Christianity is one of its most interesting features. It was an ad- vance upon ancient systems. It rebuked the exclusive- ness of Judaism, and declared the Jews and Gentiles equal in privilege and promise under the new dispen- sation. The selfishness and vanity of a false patri- otism are rebuked. All ages, and all nations and com- munities have in turn deemed themselves the wisest, or on the whole, the most privileged of the race. Much as western nations pity the imbecility and degradation '4 the oriental races, they as sincerely commiserate our DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. supposed barbarism and ignorance. In a favorable notice of a scientific English publication, in a native flindoo Journal, a few years ago, the editor, in con- scious superiority, asks: "But what are all these for- eign publications They are as a few drops to the great ocean of Hindoo learning." Travel over the world, and you nowhere find a con- sciousness of inferiority, or proofs of such social ine- quality in the character and condition of nations, as you anticipated. Or, if you do, you trace them to causes not reflecting on native character and talents. Thus travel awakens a general philanthropy in a liberal mind and a pure bosom. By extensive acquaintance, sectional feeling gives way to a broader love of country, and by extensive knowledge of the world, narrow and illiberal national prejudices are softened down to a just expression of philanthropy. Let your love of man then transcend the boundaries of neighborhood, state, or country. Divest yourself of low prejudices, sectional animosities, and national antipathies. In serving well your kindred and your country, you may serve well your race. But these local or sectional regards must not interfere with, or repress the sentiment of justice and philanthropy toward all mankind. Justice and magnanimity between nations, are as beautiful as be- teen individual men; and the highest virtue cannot he confined to national boundaries. It is the sign of 14 DUTIES 4IF PHILANTHROPY. inferior character and low civilization, when pretended devotion to friends or country makes us unjust to stran- gers, or foreign lands. Philanthropy will temper patri- otism and friendship; without it they become selfish and often unjust. Besides, the God of nature does not exempt us from the obligations of a common brother- hood, because of personal attachments and artificial alliances. We are bound to do good to all mankind, and see in every man a brother. Harbor enmity against no human being. Cherish as intense benevolent regards as possible for all. Selfishness enlightened would prompt you to enlarged sympathies for the entire race of man. Your happiness depends upon the number of beings whom you love, and by whom you are loved. Your estate of happiness is commensurate with your philanthropic regards. And this is the highest order of happiness, and farthest above the reach of change, circumstances, or the caprice of man. As our hearts flow out in benevolent regards, we are happy, and no envious being can restrict or dig up that source of happiness. 'Living friendly, feeling friendly, Acting fairly to all men, Seeking to do that to others They may do to me again; Rating no man, scorning no man, Wronging none by word or deed, But forbmaring, soothing, serving, Thus I live -and this my cre.ed. 115 11l DUTTS OF THE YOUNG. "Harsh condemning, fierce contemning, Is of little Christian use; One soft word of kindly peace Is worth a torrent of abuse. Calling things bad, calling men mad, Adds but darkness to their night; If thou would'st improve a brother, Let thy kindness be his light. "I have felt and known how bitter Human coldness makes the world, Every bosom round me frozen, Not an eye with pity pearled; Still my heart with kindness teeming, Glad when other hearts are glad, And my eye a tear-drop findeth At the sight of others sad. Ah! be kind-life hath no secret For our happiness like this; Kindly hearts are seldom sad ones, Blessing ever bringeth bliss. Lend a helping hand to others, Smile though all the world should fro; Man is man, we all are brothers, Black or white, or red or brown. "Man is man through all gradations, Little recks it where he stands, How divided into nations, Scattered over many lands; Man is man, by form and feature, Man by vice and virtue, too, Man in all-one common nature Speaks and binds us brothers true." To retain the widest range of complacent and benev- olent feelings in reference to all, be careful to observe the following rules: 1. To hear as little as possible of whatever is to the prejudice of others. DUTIES OF PHILANTHROPY. 2. To believe nothing of the kind till you are abso- lutely forced to it. 3. Never to drink in the spirit of one who circulates an evil report. 4. Always to moderate, as far as you can, the un- kindness which is expressed towards others. 5. Always to believe, that, if the other side were heard, a very different account would be given of the matter. PROTECTION OF THE RIGHTS OF MAN UNIVERSALLY. Another obvious duty of philanthropy, is a jealous regard for the individual rights of the human brother- hood. Those rights are the birth-right of man, and their recognition lies at the foundation of law and civil- ization. There has perhaps been no form of sin more prevalent in the world, and none more severely men- aced in the Scriptures, than the violation of these rights. "Rob not the poor because he is poor, neither op- press the afflicted in the gate; for the Lord will plead their cause, and spoil the soul of those that spoiled them." " He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth his Maker, but he that honoreth Him hath mercy on the poor." "4Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to destruction." " Open thy mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy." "n Defend the poor and fatherless; 117 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. do justice to the afflicted and needy. Deliver the poor and needy-rid them out of the hand of the wicked." "If thou seest the oppression of the poor, and violent perverting of judgment and justice in a province, mar- vel not at the matter; for He that is higher than the highest regardeth, and there be higher than they." "Is not this the fast that I have chosen To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke" These passages you will perceive refer to oppression in its generic sense, as being coeval with the race, and developed in every age, in every part of the world, and under every form of government. It exists under the despotism of Russia, Turkey, and India, and under the limited monarchies of Europe, and in the Republics of America. Its hydra form may be detected amid the manufacturing districts of England, and in the tenant system of Ireland, Spain, and Italy. It may be traced in the work-shops of the North, and on the plantations of the South. It is an evil fostered by the selfishness of human nature; and though some forms of political institutions may place greater restraint upon it than others, none can wholly preclude it, until the reign of selfishness in man is superseded by the reign of justice and charity. But wherever it exists, humanity must lift up her voice against it. Religion, on bended knee 118 DUTIES OF PHILANTHROPY. and with tearful eye, must continue to plead for impar- tial justice, and commend to her votaries the wants and woes of the weak and defenseless. Every true philan- thropist will feel that to the extent of his opportunity he is his brother's keeper. He may never hide himself from the wrongs and sufferings of his fellow men. This tender and vigilant philanthropy is pointed out as the complemental virtue in the perfect character of Job: "d When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me; because I deliv- ered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me; and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. I put on righteousness and it clothed me; my judgment was as a robe and a diadem. I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame. I was a father to the poor; and the cause which I knew not I searched out. I brake the jaws of the wicked, and plucked the spoil out of his teeth." ARTS OF PEACE. The encouragement of industrial arts is also an obvious duty of philanthropy. The achievements of scientific art cannot be restricted to one age or one na- tion. They are triumphs for the race, and bear the stamp of universal blessings. In its just application, d (ientific art diminishes the necessity of manual labor, 119 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. and provides leisure for intellectnal and social improve- ment and happiness. It comprises all within the scope of its beneficent influences. It diffuses conveniences to the dwellings of the lowly, adorns the mansions of the rich, and beautifies the State. By administering to the enjoyments and achievements, it adds to the length of life. The travel or commercial transactions of a week, by railroads and telegraphs have become the easy task of twenty-four or thirty-six hours. The intercourse of friendship, and the enjoyments of travel at home or abroad, have been proportionably facilitated, Guttem- burg, Arkwright, Watt, Fulton, and Morse, properly rank among distinguished benefactors of the race. And those who have not the genius to improve the arts, may exhibit the spirit of philanthropy in generous efforts to diffuse their advantages to all classes and countries. He who improves the order or economy of building, or the modes of agriculture, or the facilities of education, performs a work of philanthropy. By individual exertions, or through mechanical institutions and agricultural associations, foster the improvements of your town, county, state, country, and of the world. To any lawful extent, through the state or general government, encourage telegraph, railroad, and all other internal improvements. Be in a true sense public spirited men. Adorn your village or neigh- borhood, as well as your own dwelling or farm. Dif- 120 DUTIES OP PHILANTHROYPY. fuse blessings to your fellow-men, and you will double your own, and enhanoe the happiness of others. DRYING UP THE SOURCES OF EVIL. Another obvious duty of philanthropy, is assiduous attention to prevent or diminish prevailing social evils. Vices organize themselves, and form their haunts and alliances. It is the work of philanthropy to apply ex- isting law, or procure further judicious legislation to abate these appalling evils and rescue their victims. Successful efforts against these evils must be concerted and persevering. Hence associations for various social and moral reforms. How wonderful the influence of the temperance reformation in checking the manifold evils of the free use of ardent spirits as a beverage. The following communication of Dr. J. M. Carno- chan to Dr. B. Brown Williams. both of the city of New York, embraces the views of one of the most emi- nent physicians and surgeons of that city, on the nature, tendencies, and necessary consequences of alcoholic beverages, regarding the question primarily in its phys- ical aspects. We ask for it the perusal of every reader who has a constitution that may be destroyed. or a life that may be lost. "In relation to your inquiries directed to me, as to the physiological effects of "alcoholic drinks," I unhes- itatingly answer, that they are in the highest degree I11 121 2DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. pernicious and deleterious to the human system, moral- ly and physically. "It belongs to the DIVI.NE to expose and dwell upon the sorrowful influences upon the moral constitution of man, by the use of intoxicating liquors. As a surgeon, however, having vast opportunities of experience, in hospital and private practice, I must declare that I al- ways look upon patients who have been in the habit of using spirituous beverages as least likely to recover from serious maladies, or from the shock following cap- ital operations; and also as those most likely to require longer time for the cure of diseases of a more simple character. I have at times met with cases of fracture of the bones occurring in persons of intemperate habits, in whom the bones would not unite by bony material, but remained flexible and useless on account of the union being ligamentous. Beside destroying the recu- perative action of the system, the use of spirits lays the foundation of many diseases, which, if at first only disable men from pursuing the vocations of life, ulti- mately induce imbecility, paralysis, apoplexy, and death. - It would be impossible in a communication short as this must necessarily be, to mention all the untoward results which the use of spirituous beverages entail upon hminanity, and how these results impede and counteract the efforts of the medical practitioner. Suffice it to 122 DUTIES OF PHILANTHROPY. say, that the continued use of intoxicating drinks saps the foundation of life, destroying the healthy action of the nervous system, perverting the nutritive pow- ers of the stomach, vitiating the blood, and depress- ing the vital functions of the whole system. "d To conclude, I would say that intemperance in the use of alcoholic drinks is the great pest of modem society, and those who have the moral courage to stand boldly forward in the cause of the grand moral reform which is now agitating the country on this all impor- tant subject, will merit the encomiums of all mankind." Cobden, one of the most shrewd political philanthro- pists of the age, has declared, that the weaning of the laboring population of Great Britain from intoxicating drinks, would do more for their social education, than the consummation of all other social reforms besides. See that due attention of legislation be kept to this subject. If it keep not pace with the popular convic- tion, and embody and embrace in it just law, the people will relapse into the vice again, as the Hebrews turned to idolatry while their lawgiver was absent in the Mount. Purify the inns, saloons, and restaurants, and other resorts of the people, from the ministries and associations of this vice. The French, with their excitable temperament, would become a nation of drunkards, with our organization of saloons and popular reworts, and our list of fashionable 123 DUTIES OF THE VOYa. beverages. Fashion counteracts the evils of intemper- ance among European nations, but enhances them in our cotmtry. Continue also the influence of moral sna- sion in the instructions of the nursery, the school, the pulpit, and the press. To a greater or less extent, asso- ciation may become necessary, from time to time, in defense of the sanctity of the family, the sacredness of the Sabbath, and against dueling or gambling Shrink not from such co-operation. Thus an ensign is raised for the people, and public sentiment may be em- bodied against menacing evils, and in favor of benefi- cent reforms. THE SPREAD OF CHRISTIANITY. The spread of Christianity throughout the world is one of the most exalted works of philanthropy. Gib- bon says: "d Christianity is a religion that diffuses among the people a pure, benevolent, and universal system of ethics adapted to every condition of life, and commended as the will and reason of the Supreme." In its purity and adaptation to the conservation of social virtue and happiness, attested by infidelity itself, is its self-evidencing power, and its claim upon patriot- ism and philanthropy alike for its universal diffusion. The Scriptures translated and circulated in all lan- guages, will become the tree of life to the world, scattering its leaves for the temporal healing of the 124 DUTIES OF PHILANTHROPY. nations, and shaking for them the golden fruits of ever- lasting salvation. The modern missionary enterprise stands in the front ranks of works of philanthropy. It has already given written laws and language to tribes lately sunk in bar- barism. It has diffused the purer literature of the English language through the East; and with the co- operation of commerce it is fast spreading higher prin- ciples of liberty and morality among the millions of India and China. Its influence is diffused like leaven through the heart of universal society. The Boards of Domestic and Foreign Missions and of Bible Societies of the Old and New World, will rank among the most effective instrumentalities of philanthropy. Already, the Sandwich Islands have received the law of God, and now seek confederation with our Republic. Already, through the Bible and Christian missions, new ideas have pervaded the Celestial Empire, and are bringing her into correspondence with the civilized world. The spirit and work of missions, sanctifying commerce, en- forcing social justice, and proclaiming the charter of man's rights and of his hopes beyond this world, are ushering in the period foretold by prophets. The Ideal scene of philanthropic aspiration is sketched by enraptured prophecy as attained through the diffusion of religious knowledge. 125 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. Christianity Is philosophy .put into practice - popu- larized - brought down and adapted to the masses. It is not philosophy retired within cloisters and groves, libraries and schools, elaborating beautiful theories, and entertaining a few capable votaries, already raised above the special need of its aid; but going about doing good, preventing and obviating temporal ills, healing spiritual maladies; clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, counseling the ignorant, relieving the orphan and the widow, appointing beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. The ideal conception of the highest state of human improvement, individual and social, all human faculties developed and harmonized, is but a conception of the millennial state sought and promised by Christianity. " Then judgment shall dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness remain in the fruitful field. And the work of righteousness shall be peace, and the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever. Vio- lence shall no more be heard in the land, wasting nor destruction within thv borders, but thou shalt call thy walls salvation and thy gates praise." "aMy soul is enlarged and stands erect, as I look down the declivity of years, and see the changes which these young Davids, under God, will make in all the 126 DUTIBS OF PHILANTHROPY. earth. Countless millions are shortly to awake from the sleep and darkness of a hundred ages, to hail the day that shall never go down. I see the darkness roll- ing upon itself, and passing away from a thousand lands. I see a cloudless day following, and laying itself over all the earth. I see the nations coming up from the neighborhood of the brutes, to the dignity of the sons of God; from the sty in which they had wal- lowed, to the purity of the divine image. I see the meekness of the gospel assuaging their ferocious pas- sions, melting down a million contending units into one, silencing the clangor of arms, and swelling into life a thousand budding charities, which had died under the long winter. I hear the voice of their joy. It swells from the valleys and echoes from the hills. I already hear on the eastern breeze the songs of new-born na- tions. I already catch from the western gale the praise of a thousand islands. I ascend the Alps and see the darkness retiring from the Papal world. I ascend the Andes and see South America and all the islands of the Pacific one altar. I ascend the mountains of Thi- bet, and hear from the plains of China, and from every jungle and pagoda of Hindostan, the praises of the liv- ing God. I see all Asia bowing before Him, who, eighteen centuries ago, hung in the midst of them on Calvary. I traverse oceans, and hear from every float- in,- bethel the songs of the redeemed: - 127 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks, Shout to each other; and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy; Till nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round.' Come that blessed day! Let my eyes once behold the sight, and then give this worthless body to the worms." Religion is the most compendious, as it is the oldest system of philanthropy. And the scriptural church is the most effective agency of philanthropy. Enlight- ened Christian men are the highest style of philanthro- pists. The late Anson G. Phelps, Esq., encouraged all modes of doing good, and turned few applicants away empty, and the following Will indicates his view of the just prominence of religious institutions in pursuits of philanthropy. "After providing amply for his widow, one hundred thousand dollars for each of his children, ten thousand dollars for each of his grand-children, and an additional five thousand to each of them, to be paid by the exec- utors, with the injunction from him to use the increase of this fund sacredly for benevolent purposes, and transmit to their heirs with the same injunction, and after making several bequests to relations, Mr. Phelps left to thirteen different benevolent organizations, 471- 000, which, including the amount given to each of his 128 DUTIBS OF PHILANTHROPY. twnty-two grand-children, make the munificent bequest of 581,000 for religious and benevolent purposes" HABIT OF BENEFICENCE. The entire sum of beneficent acts is not preserved in the records of charitable societies. Confined to such prescribed channels, charity is liable to become profes- sionaf, mechanical. As often as possible become the almoner of your own charities. Relieve the poor and suffering in person, as well as by proxy. Job delin- eates, and humbly claims, the character of a philanthro- pist. -I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame. I fed the hungry, and clothed the naked." Under these comprehensive specifications are embraced all the more prominent virtues of a philanthropic life. Our Lord displayed the ideal character of a philan- thropist: "s He went about doing good." All classes of sufferers looked to him for sympathy and relief. Howard also, in an eminent degree, exemplified the same character; and while mitigating the sufferings of thousands, was ameliorating and moralizing the prison discipline of the civilized world. "The lives of good men all reelind us] We can make our lives sublime, And departing leave behind us Foot-steps on the sands of tine. Foot-steps that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, may have hope again." 12 U29 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. It is better to erect your monument amid the living world, than in a place of the dead; to rear it in the imperishable forms of beneficent institutions, than in tall shafts, graceful obelisks, and colossal statues. It is better to have your name associated with deeds of virtue and beneficent institutions, and written on the heart of God's poor, than have it carved on the surface of granite, marble, or brass. I" A selfish man is like an opaque body which absorbs all the rays of light within itself; a benevolent man like a transparent gem reflects and diffuses the rays of light all around." Wealth and leisure may facilitate, but they cannot monopolize, the virtues and rewards of philanthropy. All may do good, by a look of tenderness, a word of hope, an act of kindness. The consequences of beneficent deeds, out- measure the perceived importance of the occasion, or the intrinsic power of the agent. "A traveler through a dusty road Strewed acorns on the lea, And one took root and sprouted up, And grew into a tree. Love soughbt its shade at evening tide, To breathe its early vows, And age was pleased, in heat of noon, To batik beneath its boughs. The dormouse loved its dangling twigs; The birds sweet music bore; It stood, a glory In its place, A blessing evermore1 130 DUTIES OF HllE YOU NU. A little spring had lost its way Amid the grass and fern; A passing stranger scooped a well, Where weary men might turn; He walled it in, and hung with care A ladle at the brink. He thought not of the deed he did, But judged that toll might drink. He passed again, and lo! the well, By summer never dried, Had cooled ten thousand parching tongues, And saved a life beside I A dreamer dropped a random thought; 'T was old, and yet was new- A simple fancy of the brain, But strong in being true; It shone upon a genial mind, And lo! its light became A lamp of life, a beacon ray, A monitory flame. The thought was small, its isue great, A watch-fire on the hill; It sheds its radiance fr adown, And cheers the valley still. A nameless man amid a crowd That thronged the daily mart, Let a11 a word of Hope and Love, Unstudied from the heart; A whisper on the tumult thrown- A transitory breath- It raised a brother from the dust, It saved a soul from death. 0 germ! 0 fount ! 0 word of love I 0 thought at random cast ! Ye were but little at the first, But mighty at the last." 131 This page in the original text is blank. CHAPTER V. DUTIES OF RELIGION. "She points the arduous height where glory lies, And teaches mad ambition to be wise." PoMz THE various service due to creatures is conditional and temporary. It is binding only as accordant with the will of God. Him only can we serve uncondi- tionally, absolutely, or perpetually. All the service due to creatures, is binding by a higher law than that of mutual relations, and may be rendered as service to God. As the reciprocal duties of brothers and sisters are enforced by higher and common relation to pa- rents; or the mutual duties of citizens, by the authority of the State; so all just obligations to men, are duties to God. The whole of life is a stewardship. And the Patron of universal justice endorses all the just claims of his creatures, and acknowledges as done to himself, those acts done in obedience to his law. The myriad ties of obligations which bind us to crea- tures, are intertwined in the bulk and strength of a divine law, binding us to the Creator. That law eom- I 11iU''! E,'' FfiEYUIJ;N U. bines the sacredness, dignity, and importance, of all human obligations. In the field, the counting house, the office, the studio-in all lawful secular callings our stewardship to God may be honored. In all works of justice or charity, teaching the ignorant, clothing the naked, consoling the afflicted, in upright examples, in the care of the body, the cultivation of the mind, in the duties of the family, of the State, and of general philanthropy, God may be served, and he requires all these duties at our hands. In Europe, and especially in Great Britain, the trav- eler traces in all the industrial occupations, an ambi- tion for royal patronage. In all the large cities may be distinguished, by conspicuous signs, or other adver- tisements, the architect or builder, coach or cabinet maker, upholsterer or draper, gardener or florist, the confectioner or baker, the jeweler, or bookseller and stationer, to the Queen, or to some member of the Royal Family. In a just appreciation of the human steward- ship, all would be ambitious of the divine patronage, in their varied, humble callings, and in high religious con- secration of all their works and possessions to God. They would become agriculturists, or merchants, or artists, to the King of kings. Nor does any of these duties attain its complemental beauty, dignity, or firmest sanctions, until it is per- formed to God. Whether ye eat or drink, or what- 134 DIUTIES OF RELIGION.-. loever ye do, in the wide scope of human activity and responsibility, do all to the glory of God. By associ- ation of a higher law, all duties become more sacred and beautiful. The adaptation of the fingers to the arm, separated from the body, might be partially ap- prehended; but more fully in their double relation to the arm, and through that to the body. So a new sig- nificance and sacredness is given to every virtue seen in its relation to the higher law, and the future life; and there is no such thing as an invincible virtue in the world, without the recognition of an overruling Provi- dence and future rewards and punishments. In the rejection of these, the strongest defences of individual virtue are repudiated; and character is vulnerable, if it does not immediately deteriorate. The family reposes in security, only beneath the sacred altar of religion. Piety fosters its virtues, and is the guardian angel of its purity. The purest patriotism has been associated with the purest religion of each succeeding age. And it has deteriorated in the deterioration or want of reli- gious faith. It was the purer and intenser religious faith of the Puritans, which achieved the civil and religious free- dom of England. The religious faith of our forefathers, was the new element that has conserved our republic. What sought they thus afar, Bright jewels of the mind 135 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. The wealth of ia, the spoils of war They sought a faith's pure shrine. Aye, call it holy ground, The spot where frst they trod; They left unstained what there they fiun46 Freedom to worship God ! " Remember the first Sabbath of the Puritans, on the wintry seaboard; and the first prayer in Congress, for counsel in the crisis and perplexities of forming a new State; and the image of Washington alone in the wood in prayer, before the battle of Valley Forge. Such a pure and intense religious faith would free any nation of Europe or Asia. The rationalist movement of Ronge, in Germany, was quashed by the first opposition, while the German Baptists, (the first evangelical dissenters of central Europe,) in the face of persecution, confiscation of goods, and imprisonment, are achieving for Germany, religious liberty. It is the strength of a purer religious faith over the minds of the people, that is elevating the Chinese insurrection to onae of the sublimest political revolutions in the history of the world. Still more obviously does philanthropy derive her highest inspiration from the altar of religion; from the example and spirit of Him who became poor, that an impoverished race might become rich; and who, as his life-long employment, went about doing good. Asy- lumq, and systematic provision for the poor, are found 136 DUTIES OF RELIGION. chiefly in lands of the Sabbath and Bible; and in greater perfection where their influence is most fully carried out. Religious sentiment is the key-stone of the arch-the corner-stone of the edifice of human vir- tues. The edifice is precipitated into a shapeless mass by its removal. Hence, the downfall of empires and the recurring dilapidation of universal society. It has been said, that in every despatch of Well- ington is found the word DUTY; and in all of Napo- leon's the word GLORY; significant not more of the difference in the personal character of the men, than of the nations they represent. The higher glory and greater power of England are sustained by the sense of duty pervading the English mind, through the Scrip- tures and Protestant Christianity. The weakness and instability of the French, rendering them incapable of self-government, and the easy dupes of aspiring tyr- anny, arise from the want of the social influence of religion, leading them, from prince to peasant, to act uniformly from views of expediency, and never from high sense of obligation. In this sentiment of religion lies the whole strength of human virtue. It is like the silent and universal operation of the law of gravitation, preserving com- munities, and families, and individuals, in their several spheres and specific orbits. Impair or sunder that law, and there is a perpetual collision, and society rushes 137 DUTIES OF THE YOuTNG. into chaos. Religion, then, is not, like the Lama of Thibet, to be kept aloof from common life, and guarded from the gaze of the people; but to he the companion of every individual, the guest of every family, the direc- tor of every calling and profession. It is something felt, acted, done. It is the right state of man, and the world. Thus all human duties are duties of religion. Moreover, as the source of the highest sentiments and impulses of these virtues, the Creator requires us to adore and love him. This homage is required by natural, as well as by revealed law. We bow with reverence before the immensity of space, the starry firmament, the heaving ocean, the lofty mountain, the thundering cataract, the beaming sun, the beautiful spring, and the golden autumn. All these are but me- morials of the Divine existence and power. They are but a symbol of the incomprehensible Jehovah. We revere wisdom, goodness, and holiness in creatures, and their perfection in the Creator challenges the adoration of the intelligent universe. Religious worship is, there- fore, a natural, as well as a revealed, duty. We can- not disengage ourselves from its natural obligations, or, without observing them, reach the perfection of our nature. To foster and conserve this homage, posi- tive laws have been instituted, which have been tech- nically called duties of religion. As positive insti- tutions, they may express, as well as foster, religion; 138 DUTIES OF RELIGION. but in their higher relations they are to be viewed rather as a means, than an end -as subserving, rather than constituting religion. THE SCRIPTURES. A leading duty of religion, is the study of fhe word of God. That word has gone out into all the world, and its voice to the ends of the earth. There is no speech nor language where it is not heard. Listen to that word and study it, as uttered in the myriad voices of nature and providence. But especially, as combined in clearer and more impressive utterance in divine rev- elation. "The authority of this revelation is asserted by a train of miracles, attested in the most authoritative manner, that is within the competence of history; the evidence afforded by prophecies fulfilled, that the Au- thor of revelation is the being who sees into futurity; the manifestation, in revealed religion, of a superhuman knowledge of the nature and condition of man; the adaptation of the remedial system to that condition; the incomparable excellence of the Christian morality; the analogy between the works of God and what claims to be the word of God; and the interpositions with respect to the cause and the adherents of religion in the cause of the divine government on the earth." "Whenie but from heaven Could men unskilled in arts, 139 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. In several ages born, and several parts, Weave such agreeing truths; Or how or why should all conspire To cheat us with a lie, Unasked their pains, ungrateful their advice, Starving their gain and martyrdom their price." The Scriptures are specially adapted to the various instincts and wants of the soul. As light, poured abroad over the face of Nature, searches out, and identifies in man and other animals, its subjective organ, and by its presence causes the varied and beneficent phenom- ena of vision; as vibrations of the air, passing through the sky and along the earth, penetrate the ear, and by a mysterious adaptation to its structure, produce all the varieties of sound and harmony; or as the atmos- phere, enveloping mountains and pervading the valleys and recesses of the earth, presses upon the lungs, and by sustaining their functions, supports the various forms of animal life and activity; so the sacred Scriptures, in their ready access to the heart, reducing to harmony its passions, quicken-ing the pulsations of renewed life, and calling into exercise all its faculties, evince a spe- cific and wonderful adaptation to the spiritual nature of man. As the breath of morning, wafting the re- splendent rays of the orb of day over Memnon's broken statue, calls forth mysterious and responsive melodies; so the influences of the divine word, rising in the beams of the sun of righteousness, upon the marred and brow ken form of humanity, ever awaken mysteriously the 140) DUTIES OF RELIViAON. harmony of its passions, in transports of love, adora- tion, and praise. Its doctrines fall on the believer's ear like melodious sounds, rolling from the chords of the harp or the lyre or the lips of a master of the Orphean art, awakening feelings in unison with their sentiments. They meet him in every possible condition, with suita- ble instruction and reproof, or encouragement and con- solation, and satisfy every craving of his nature. They furnish the most sublime conceptions of the universe, of higher order of intelligences, and of the eternal God; as well as the most impressive views of the relationship, duties, and happiness of human life. 'They express with incomparable simplicity and tenderness, every natural state of the feeling, and are suited to all its varying moods; they ascend with man to the highest elevation of joy, and accompany him to the lowest abasement of sorrow. They chasten and elevate the joys of pros- perity, and compensate the bereavements, and mitigate the woes of adversity. Blessing and adorning the tem- poral condition of man, they direct his approach to the great Eternal, and teach the nature and mode of spiritual worship. They furnish types and forms of expression for pious emotion, humble confession, ador- ing praise, spiritual sorrow, and rapturous joy. Hav- ing provided for the present, they disclose the future; and conducting man to the summit of everlasting hills, whence open before him scenes in endless variety of 141 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. beauty and loveliness, they give him the pledge of an inheritance unmarred by sin, and that fadeth not away. The effectiveness of this internal evidence is often illustrated. Two Tartar scholars and ambassadors, at the court of St. Petersburg, employed by a mission- ary to revise with him the New Testament in their native language, became at length fascinated, and then serious, over the book; and when the work was finished they confessed their established conviction of the divine authority of the word. Such was its direct address to the inner man, that they felt that Jesus was talking with them. An African prince, after visiting England, wrote to his kindred, that while all the bad people vilified or dis- regarded the Bible, all the good people revered it, and called it the word of God. By this observation he was justly convinced of its divine authority. The divine authority must be with the best system of religion. Neglect not then, the Scriptures. Their devout study is homage to God, and they are the great source of correct religious knowledge and experience. Study them, and you will become wiser than the ancients, who received not this revelation. John Quincy Adams, one of the purest of American statesmen, commends to his son, in his affectionate epistles, his own example of the daily study of the word of God. Dr. Johnson, in his last counsel to a young friend, said: "Young man, 142 AT1ES OF RELIGION. take the counsel of one who has lived many years, and possessed some fame, and who is soon to stand before the bar of God. Read the Scriptures daily." The study of the Scriptures comprises a thousand safe- guards and promises to the young. Their neglect is an augury of infidelity, irreligion, and sin. PRAYER. Prayer is another natural and positive duty of reli- gion. No system of religion has ever obtained without forms of devotion. One of the most expressive memo- rials of ancient Rome, is a statue of a youth, with arms extended, and face upturned to heaven, in the attitude of prayer. It represents the natural, suppli- ant attitude of the race to the Creator. The devo- tional examples of holy men of old, and of the divine Redeemer, are commended in the Scriptures, for the imitation of all mankind. All eminent for religious character and influence, in preceding ages, have been distinguished for habits of devotion. Religious affec- tions and virtues must have an inner growth, and assid- uous culture, to maintain their vitality and beauty. Pray, then, with all prayer, and maintain habitual and ennobling spiritual aspirations. "Pray without ceas- ing." "When morning is rising o'er mountain and lawn, And emery thing waketh to welcome the awrn, 143 144 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. When fr dow the valtMy the mid.t By away, Arouse thee from hlumber, arouse thee and prvy. And when the still noon in Its beauty draws nigh, And nature seems ready to languiJh and die, Then halt in thy march in the heat of the day, And lift up thy thoughts to thy Father and pray. When evening descends like a spirit of peace, And labor and tumult grow finter and eatse, When night cometh down in her starry array, Then haste to the God of thy spirit, and pray. Remember his goodness, whose hand has supplied Each want of thy bosom; nor ever denied The smiles of his bounty to gladden thy way; Remember his goodness, and gratefully pray. Oh, pray to him always-4n sorrow or joy, When peace is around thee, or troubles annoy; The light of his presence the storm shal allay, Or temper thy gladness-then constantly pay." And perfect the duty of prayer by recurring self examination. Says Bunyan: "When thou risest in the morning, consider-first, thou must die; second, thou mayest die that moment; third, what will become of thy soul I Pray often. At night consider-first, what sins thou hast committed; second, how often thou hast prayed; third, what hath thy mind been bent upon; fourth, what hath been thy dealing; fifth, what thy conver- sation; sixth, if thou callest to mind the errors of the day, sleep not without a confession to God, and a hope of pardon. Thus every morning and evening make up thy account with Almighty God, and thy reckoning will be the less at the last." DUTIES OF RELIGION. Morning and evening open your heart and life to the omniscient Eye, with humble confession of faults, and renewed purpose of exalted vixtue. "Consider each night as the tomb of the departed day, and seri- ously leaning over it, read the inscription written by conscience, of its character and exit." Prayer to heaven is the strength of earth. Blessed is the man who has the God of Jacob for his helper. rHE SABBATH. Another leading duty and means of Religion, is the just observance of the Sabbath. The day of rest does not return merely to lift the galling yoke of the world from the chafed neck of tired man; but to free him from spiritual bondage, and elevate his soul to com- munion with God. The day was hallowed for reli- gious contemplation and services. Man needs a sev- enth part of his time, to cast about him in his progress and relations to eternity, to confirm his opinions, and elevate his hope. This is the need of man irrespective of any particular class of opinions. The need of rec- reation or amusement, is another and distinct want, and should be provided for to its necessary extent, from the week. The desecration of the Sabbath to that purpose, is the most dreadful sacrilege. It not only deprives the race of its greatest want, but destroys the religious sentiment, by confounding things sacred 1., 145 DUTIES OP THE VOUNG. and profane. To turn the Sabbath into a holiday, pro- duces a monstrous incongruity and fearful evils. It is as if while the tribes were trembling before Sinai, smoking and thundering, and intent to hear the proc- clamation of the law, they had been summoned to games, dancing, and various amusements. Or, as if beneath the mount, and within the sound of the voice of Him who spake as never man spake, feats of strength and agility had been proposed, a banquet had been spread, and the sound of the viol heard; or, as if, on the mount of transfiguration, Peter, James, and John, instead of being absorbed in the wonderful revelations with which they were favored, had engaged in frivolous or secular pursuits, or abandoned themselves to feasting or to sleep. The Sabbath is a religious, and not a holiday. Hallow it as such. " Call it a delight, honorable, and honor it; not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words; then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord; and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob, thy father; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." In this sacred use, the Sabbath is the great support of religion-its greatest conservation. Tens of thousands have been bound to duty and God by it. It bridges the tempta- tions of the week, succors virtue, disarms temptations, and plevates piety. 146 DUTIES OF RELIGION. "Sabbath holy, to the lowly, Still art thou a welcome day; When thou oomest, Earth and ocean, Shade and brightness, lRest and motion, Help the poor mO1n's heart to pray." But if perverted, it precipitates destruction. Oh, hal- low the Sabbath! John Quincy Adams, when minister plenipotentiary abroad, refused successive meetings of the diplomatic corps appointed on the Sabbath; honoring his own and the principles of his country. Avoid all business or amusements which involve violations of the Sabbath, and conserve all its sacred uses in the institution of public worship, in the appropriate conversation and reading of the family, and in self examination and prayer. CHRISTIAN PROFESSION. Honor the profession and ordinances of Christianity. -He that confesseth me before men, him will I also confess before my Father, who is in heaven." II Then are ye my disciples, if ye do whatsoever I command you." All forms of religion in the world have de- manded confession and outward distinction. The anal- ogy of all kindred subjects enforces its importance. It is as essential to the support and propagation of Chris- tianity, as the visible distinction and pledge of themar- riage institution, to the support of the family order, and i417 DUTIES OF THE YOUAG. the purity and confidence of domestic life; or, an judi- cial institutions to the preservation of liberty and the administration of justice; or, as military appointments and discipline, to the effectiveness of military enterprise. Religion not professed, maust decline in an individual, a country, or an age. Observe, then, the ordinances of Christianity. They are commended by divine authority, and by their beautiful adaptation and significance. On the renewal of your heart to a holy life, assume the vows of the Christian profession in its prescribed form. With re- newal of the covenant of a new life, partake of the emblem of the supper. Be at your place in the public congregation, in the sabbath school, and in the social meeting. Cultivate the affections of the Christian brotherhood. Let the love of Christians rise above the love of sect. Espouse every work of Christian life and progress. And, finally, cultivate, under religious sanctions and religious helps, all the diversified duties of life. Let it appear that you are actuated by faith in a divine prov- idence and a future life, which overcomes the tempta- tions of the world. This faith is the sustaining impulse of virtue-the stamina of heroic character. As this declines, virtue must falter, sense of justice languish, and human character become subject to an insidious decav. Individnal and social character, not permeated i46 DUTIES OF RBLIGION . and sustained by the sentiment of responsibility, has lost all the dignity and strength of virtue. It is like un- starched linen, in its flexibility, yielding to the slightest outward pressure, and neither fit for the wardrobe, nor for adorning the person. Without this the whole race become like a family without order, or a state with- out law. This sentiment is the principle of cohesion, the bond of union of society. It secures the rational subordination of the race, provides scope for the con- science, and holds up the standard of right and wrong. It nerves the arm of patriots, inspires the courage of martyrs, sustains the balance of justice, the equity of trade, the confidence of friendship and the stability and peace of universal society. We can but admire the operation of this principle; even when misguided, and expressed in devotion to superstitious rights of religion, it is far more salutary and hopeful, than life without law. When carried to the extreme of superstition, it supposes recognition of law and self-subjection, far more honorable to human nature and more congenial to virtue, than an absence of restraint or lawless life. Even the achievements of superstition are the memorials of the most intense and conservative action of the human soul. They should not be despised when ex- tending to matters of doubtful obligation. Enlighten, but do not impair the force of conscience. However trifling or fanatical the thing itself, if a me- 149 DUTIES OP THE VOUNG. morial of a feeling of obligation-though an append- age, or rite of superstition-it is like the unsightly scalps dangling at the back of the Indian warrior, a memorial of courage, and a pledge of honorable distinc- tion in his tribe. The earliest and most profound oper- ation of this feeling, is one of the brightest auguries of true greatness and success in life. It is inward force or power over ourselves, which is the beginning and end of virtue. Without this, our impulses and passions become destructive agencies, and our tenderest affec- tions degenerate into weaknesses and immoralities. Philip Third, of Spain, of more than ordinary virtue, when approaching death, oppressed by a renewed sense of responsibility, exclaimed: -Would to God I had never reigned! Oh, that those years I have spent in my kingdom, I had lived a solitary life in the wilder- ness." The Spanish king was over-awed by a view of the final judgment to which subjects, as well as kings, are bound. There the obligations of life will all be summed up; its whole responsibility enforced. We cannot ward off that trial. Every one must give ac- count of himself to God! The appalling terrors of that day, to the unfaithful steward, may be illustrated by scenes of earthly judg- ment, one of which is thus described: "The awful word, 'guilty,' fell not as much upon his ear, as on his soul, which seemed to shrivel before 150 DrUTIfle OP REI.GION. . the fearful sentence. Every ray of hope died in his countenance; he started and gazed wildly around, as if to seek protection, and sank overpowered beneath the unanticipated blow. He grasped nervously the arm of his counsel, and exclaiming in a trembling and appalling tone: ' That is wrong, Judge! as heaven is my witness, I did not do it,' and burst into tears." "Ah, what plea shall I be pleading, Who for me be interceding, When the just man help is needing I" Says a German philosopher, " The two most beauti- fll things in the universe, are the starry heavens, and the sentiment of duty in the human soul." There is therefore no object more beautiful than a conscien- tious young man. His path is luminous as that of a star through the heavens. If vailed temporarily by the gathering clouds, it will blaze out with renewed radiance, as the clouds disperse. He resists, and with a determined struggle, conquers temptation. He is stung by the sarcasms of the profligate, but holds on to his integrity. The beck of fashion cannot sway him. The scoffs of atheism may awaken a momentary doubt, but they cannot unsettle his faith. He stands amid the temptations of the world, like a self-balanced power, recovering by a spring within itself, from every biasing influence, every violent impulse, every coercive agency. Awake, then, 0 youth! assume the attire of 151 M)tTTES OF THE YOUNG. virtue, the panoply of truth. It is easy to err; it is difficult to be virtuous and pure. To be holy, and attain the highest end of your being, you must strive to mas- ter yourself, and hold yourself amenable to divine law. And this you can do only in the due culture of the reli- gious affections. The wants of the religious nature are as imperative as those of the physical or intellectual. As the eye demands light and beauty, the ear sound and music, the lungs circumambient atmosphere, the palate food, the mind truth; so the religious sentiment craves an ob- ject of supreme confidence and adoration. It may be partially repressed, or prostituted in devotion to unwor- thy objects, as the faculties of the mind, or the limbs of the body; but, like them, it demands a legitimate exercise in the perfection of individual man or of human society. The balance of society is lost when its conservative power is withdrawn, and its action irreg- ular and self-destructive when it is perverted. Let the religious element in man's nature be neg- lected, let him be influenced by no higher motive than low self-interest, and subjected to no stronger restraint than the limits of civil authority, and he becomes the creature of selfish passions and blind fanaticism. On the other hand, the cultivation of the religious sentiment represses licentiousness, incites to general benevolence, and the practical acknowledgement of the 152 DUTIES OF RELTOTON. brotherhood of man, inspires respect for law and order, and gives strength to the whole social fabric, and at the same time it conducts the human soul upward to the Author of its being. Sir Walter Scott, on his dying bed, said to Lockhart: "I have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good man; be virtuous, be religious, be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here." And Webster, in the course of remarks upon the death of a distinguished Jurist of Massachusetts, said: " Political eminence and professional fame fade away and die with all things earthly. Nothing of character is really permanent, but virtue and personal worth. These remain. Whatever of excellence is wrought into the soul itself, belongs to both worlds. Real goodness does not attach itself merely to this life; it points to another world. Political or professional rep- utation cannot last forever; but a conscience void of offense before God and man, is an inheritance for eter- nity. Religion, therefore, is a necessary and indispen- sable element in any great human character. There is no living without it. Religion is the tie that con- nects man with his Creator, and holds him to his throne. If that tie be all sundered, all broken, he floats away, a worthless atom in the universe; its proper attractions all gone, its destiny thwarted, and its whole future 14 153 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. nothing but darkness, desolation, and death. A man with no sense of religious duty, is he whom the Scrip- tures describe, in such terse and terrific language, as living without God in the world. Such a man is out of his proper being, out of the circle of all his duties, out of the circle of all his happiness, and away, far, far away, from the purposes of his creation." "'T is religion that can give Sweetest pleasures while we live; ' Tie religion can aupply Solid comfort when we die; After death Its joys shall be, Lawting as eternity." If you would rescue anything from moral dissolution, you must, in religious faith, lay it up in God. By the assiduous cultivation of all your faculties, and the faith- ful discharge of all your relative duties, and by an op- erative, scriptural faith, seek for glory, honor, and im- mortality. And your happiness, as it aspires and blooms, shall clasp the columns of eternity, and live forever. 154 CHAPTER VI. SPHERE AND DUTIES OF WOMAN. 'To train the foliage o'er the snowy lawn; To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page; To lend new flavor to the fruitful year, And heighten nature's dainties; In thefrem To rear the graces into second life; To give society its highest taste; Well-ordered home man's best delight to mu; And by subulssive wisdom, modest sklln, With every gentle, care-eluding art, To raise the virtues, animate the bliss, And sweeten all the tolls of human life;- This be the female dignity and praime." T-oHssosmu Sx- The family is the primary and divinely appointed organization of society. By annulling its law, the social elements, in all their intensity of passion and conflict of desire, would be precipitated into a chaotic state, as dark, formless, and warring, as was the scene of nature, before the Spirit of God brooded over it, and brought light out of darkness, order out of confusion, and stamped an expression of beauty upon all things. It would be like breaking down the enclosures which distinguish individual and family estates, and merging the gardens and fields of a whole territory into one vast DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. common, without recognized ownership or systematic culture; leaving it to grow up to weeds, while its cot- tages, halls, and temples fall to decay, and become the retreat of wild beasts and noisome reptiles. It would be like reducing, by some powerful solvent, the myriad crystalized forms whieh sparkle in the laboratory of the chemist in their exquisite and uniform structure, smooth surfaces and resplendent angles. into a formless. dark, and turbid amalgam. The family is the corner- stone of the social edifice, upholding its order and beauty. As anterior to the Church and the State, it is more sacred than either, more necessary than both. Carried forward to its ideal standard, it might super- sede the State, and constitute itself a Church. Let the temples of religion and science, and the academies of art decay; let halls of justice and of legislation crumble to the dust; constitutions be subverted, and anarchy be proclaimed; and beneath the shadows of an unstained domestic altar, law and order, religion and happiness, would again arise and flourish. By its associations the family renders home the most hallowed spot of earth-the shelter of infancy, the play-ground of childhood, the dwelling place of man- hood, the retreat of old age, the arbor of pleasure, the temple of peace, the couch of toil, the nursery and stronghold of virtue. The earliest beams of the morn- ing of existence gild this sacred spot with its kindliest 156 DUTIES OF WOMAN. beams, and the last rays of its declining sun linger and play over it in golden memories. Home sends its attractions across oceans and continents, drawing to itself the tenderest thoughts of the traveler in foreign climes. Its altars and hearth-stones have imparted the courage and nerved the arm which have repelled the invader, and perpetuated civilization, liberty, and peace. Woman is the complemental feature-the organic ele- ment of the family institution. In her charms is ever going forth, noiselessly and powerfully as the law of gravitation, the influence which overcomes the nomadic habits of the race, determines their local habitations, and allies them in endearing social union. Her domin- ion in the family, like the kingdom of heaven on earth, cometh not with observation and display; but with noiseless, comprehensive, and powerful ascendencies. Man's influence may be more commanding in the do- mestic economy, though not so constant and important; as the costly architecture and brilliant furniture of a palace do not contribute so much to the happiness of its inmates, as the attention, courtesies, and regimen of the family circle. In superintending the affairs of the kitchen, presiding in the parlor, ministering in the sick room, instructing in the nursery, bending with the fam- ily circle at the domestic altar, and approving herself the companion and solace of the official head of the family,-woman attains her most beneficent sway. She 157 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. is the mistress and light of home, and the source of itH kindly and moralizing influences. " As the vine, which has long twined its graceful foliage about the oak, and been lifted by it into the sun- shine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thun- derbolt, cling around it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs, so it is beautifully ordered by Providence that woman, who is the mere dependent and ornament of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity, winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart." There is not a more lovely spectacle on earth than woman at home, discharging, with all the meekness of wisdom, the various duties of wife, mother, and mis- tress, with an order nothing is allowed to disturb, a patience which nothing can exhaust, an affection which nothing can repress, and a perseverance which no diffi- culties can interrupt or disappointments arrest; while her offices as daughter and sister furnish the domestic circle with complemental beauties and attractions. Nor need woman aspire to any higher sphere of influence. The enclosing of one garden from the wide common of the world, eradicating from it the weeds of vice and planting in it the flowers of virtue, are a work great enough to tax all her faculties. One home made a seat 158 DUTIES OF WOXAN. of holiness and happiness is an object worthy the incar- nation of an angel. From the time of Samuel, the first Judge of Israel, to Washington, the first President of our Republic, homes have been the nurseries of great men, mothers their instructors, while well disciplined families have continued the springs of national pros- perity, virtue, and greatness. But woman's influence is not restricted to the family. It finds also an ample sphere in religious association. Religious sentiment and feeling are more vigorous or spontaneous in woman than in man. She believes, because it is natural for her to be confiding; she wor- ships, because she loves to revere; she is beneficent. because her heart is tender; she practices virtue, be- cause she intuitively perceives obligation. Even hea- thenism, though prevailing where woman has been most degraded, has honored the eminency of her devotion. To her purer inspirations were entrusted the responses of oracles and the guarded vestal fires in the temples. The record of her charity and devotion is inter- spersed in the annals of patriarchal piety. Honored in the advent of the Messiah, and ministering to the be- neficence of his mission, she was last at the cross and first at the sepulchre. In the prison, in the amphithea- tre of wild beasts, and at the stake, through many long persecutions, she attested her faith and her fortitude in its defense; and in every succeeding age her influence I :,( DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. In spreading Christianity may be conspicuously traced. There have been the Esthers, the Ruths, and the Hannahs, of the new as well as of the old dispensation; and worthy successors of Elizabeth and Mary, Lois and Eunice, Priscilla and Dorcas, have been found in every period of the Christian era. In the fifth century, through his pious Queen, Clotil- da, Clovis was won to the new faith, and himself and sister, and three thousand of his troops were baptized at Rheims in one day-an event prelusive of the tri- umph of Christianity over Paganism among the Franks, and throughout Northern Europe. In the sixth cen- tury, Ethelbert, an Anglo Saxon king, through the pious persuasion of his Queen, Bertha, became a votary and defender of the new faith. In the succeeding cen- tury six other Anglo Saxon kings were led, in the same manner, to embrace the Christian doctrine. In the ninth century, the sister of Bogoris, king of the Bulga- rians, taken captive to Constantinople, embraced the gospel. Having been ransomed by her brother, she bore back with her to his kingdom and court the knowl- edge of a purer faith, and persuaded him to renounce Paganism, and embrace the religion of the cross. Hence The early diffusion of Christianity among the Bulgarians, the Danes, the Swedes, and the Norwegians. Nor has woman's influence been unhonored in the spread of the gospel through modern missions. The 160 DI-'1't2S OF WOMAN. 161 Judsons, Newells, Boardmans, and Fellers, and a host of other female worthies, hold honorable place in the missionary annals of the church, and their names will be repeated with admiration wherever the gospel is professed or preached throughout the world. And how prominent has been female influence in the origin and support of the humane and charitable institutions which are the ornament of Christian lands and the glory of the age! That quality of mercy which abounds in woman's heart, finds its natural expression in these elee- mosynary societies. In frontier settlements, women often take the initiative steps in the gathering of Sun- day Schools and establishing public worship. They are the majority in our churches and congregations; and they are the highest exemplars of many of the Christian graces and virtues - devotion, charity, faith, and mercy. What woman has done, and what she is capable of doing in religious association, indicate the sphere pointed out for her by Heaven. And how imper- fectly does she understand her mission, who underval- ues religious privileges, represses religious sentiment, and neglects religious duties. Irreligion, as vice, ap- pears more revolting in woman than in man. Faithless to God, she is les-s likely to be faithful to man; and abandoning herself to an irreligious and sinful course, she becomes the sorceress of earth, fascinating, al- luring, and destroying. Such was Livia, who insti- 161 162I)U:ES OF rHE YOUNG. gated the death of Drusus, her husband, and influenced Augustus to elevate Tiberias to the throne. Such was Herodias, who, to sate her revenge, demanded in a charger the head of the first prophet of the new dis- pensation. Such was Jezebel who persuaded Ahab to take the life of Naboth, to gain possession of his vine- yard, and to substitute the rites of idolatry for the worship of the true God, and who, as a judgment upon her infamous career, was eaten of dogs in the streets of Jerusalem. Such was the Spartan Helen, whose faithless intrigues involved all the Grecian States in a foreign war, and caused the overthrow of Troy. Such was Sullia, who murdered her husband, procured the as- sassination of her father, and commanded her charioteer to drive over the mangled corpse, thrown into the streets of Rome. Such also have been thousands of others, who, casting off the fear of God, and abandoning them- selves to a lawless life, by their vices have reproached their sex, and left a blot on the page of history. In proportion to her want of the religious virtues, has been the defectiveness or perniciousness of her influence upon society. As grave judges of Athens were di- verted from pronouncing the just judgment of the law against enormous crime by the artful display of the beauty of the criminal, so alas! from what lofty pur- poses, what deeds of virtue, what services of philan- thropy, from what rites of religion, what crowns of 162 DITTIES OP WOMAN. glory, has not man been turned aside by the sinister charms of woman! Without religious culture and vir- tue, she is a fair orb in partial but disastrous eclipse. "Oh, what Is Wow&N -what her smile- fer lip of love - her eye of light; What is she if her lips revile The lowly Jesus Love may write ais name upon her marble brow, And linger in her curls of jet, The light spriug-tlowers may scarcely bow Beneath her step - and yet - and yet, Without that meeker grace, she'll be A lighter thing than vanity. ' A member of society by her own right, woman has a social, as well as a domestic and religious life. Divine revelation elevates her above the relation of a mere ap- pendage to society, to an equality with man in indi- vidual liberty and protection, by merging the distinc- tions of sex in the higher relations of responsibility to God. They have the same great right under the Di- vine government -the same privileges in Christ Jesus. In the diffusion of Christianity she has risen gradually to higher rank in the provisions and defenses of govern- ment. Her rights of property have been better guarded, and her rights of labor better defined. Industry is the necessity of most women -the duty of all. As the range of their occupations is widened and diversified, they are elevated to greater independence, freed from the grinding competitions of toil, and the rewards of 163 DUTIES OP THE YOUNG. their labor increased. Their pursuits should become as diversified as their capacity and skill. Along with the occupation of the needle, let woman become more exclu- sively the mistress of primary education. Let her stand behind the counters of fancy and dry goods stores to which her own sex resort chiefly to trade. Let her handle type and paper in the printing office. Let her enter upon any of the industrial arts in which quickness of eye, ready skill, and versatile motions are requisite. And if, in the distribution of the medical profession, the department of nursing is enlarged, let her atten- tion be often relied upon in the sick room. The legislature and public sentiment should extend all necessary safeguards to the civil rights of woman, but lend no countenance to misguided endeavors to remove her from her appointed sphere rather than ele- vate her in it - to destroy, rather than to honor, the distinction of her sex. Inferior and incidental differen- ces of condition and fortune are recognized and guarded by legal defenses. Let not, then, the great natural distinction in society, the basis of all its classification, order, embellishment, virtue, and happiness, be sought to be obliterated. The unity of the family depends upon the supremacy of its head; and upon its unity, under its singular au- thority and headship, depend all its peculiar virtues and influence upon universal society. In its divine 164 DUTIES OP WOMAN. constitution it is the most effective embodiment of the kingdom of God on earth. There, are beneficence, affection, and mercy, answered by obedience, reverence, and admiration. Higher vir- tues and more ennobling sentiments spring from re- cognition of the supremacy of Jehovah and the obli- gations of, duty, than from relations of mutual compact and covenant among men; and in voluntary homage and obedience to truth, rise and shine virtues never guar- anteed by compacts of equality or subordination. So, in the dependencies of woman and the family upon t heir appointed head, is laid the foundation of a peculiar order of social influence, and every enterprise of active life is inaugurated by judicious calculations never attained by the partnerships and joint stock companies of society. In the secular intercourse of society the distinctions of meum and tuum are perpetually magnified and forti- fied by partition, title deeds, contracts, bonds, and oaths. The whole educational tendency of this intercourse is to repress generous and noble sentiments, quicken ava- rice, envy, jealousy, and suspicion. But the family, in its appropriate order, supplies a counterpoise to this educational influence. In its unity, distinctions of pro- prietorship are scarcely known; its possessions are accumulated as a common treasure. No needless par- tition of goods; no jealousy of each other's acqiuisitiotis or preferments is allowed. Each rejoices in ihe for- 165 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. tunes of others. Kindly services wait no mercenary reward; a thousand daily attentions seek no compensa- tion, and set down no debt of obligation. The educa- tional influence of such intercourse fosters disinterested benevolence, charitable and amiable dispositions. This influence appears to us to depend upon the divinely appointed institution of the family. Subvert its supreme headship, and assert for woman an official equality with man, and you sink the peculiarity of the institution and influence, and dislocate universal society. Let family unions become mere temporary alliances for convenience and passion - partnerships, joint-stock companies, with all the particular rights of the parties laid down and guaranteed by a contracting document. and the reign of love and moral suasion will be super- seded in the earth by the reign of passion and power. Woman will no longer stand before man with her con- fiding appeal to his justice, generosity, and gallantry; but with statutes, instruments, and contracts. She will no longer be his companion, but his rival; and her rights, if self-asserted, would be far less secure than if left to his guardianship. Seen in her new attitude of a rival in business, a partner in a joint-stock compa- ny, she loses her highest charms and her most ennob- ling influence, and sinks before the unequal competition of man. And if woman be recognized in detailed leg- islative provision, as business partner in the family I 66j DUTIES OF WOMAN. estate, either, of course, has a right to fix a period to the partnership, and demand a partition of the prop- erty; and the children also should be recognized as partners, with pro rata interests in its profits, and the right to withdraw, with honor, at any time. It is the insidious tendency of the Woman's Rights movement to the radical subversion of the family, and not to its special demands for its farther protection against abuses, that we deprecate. Whatever defenses and privileges can be extended to woman, upon the Divine basis of the institution, we hail with joy. But we cannot over- look the fact, that woman represents a moral, and not a legal empire; that her dominion comes not with mere legal observation, distinction, and defense; that she supplies another and quite a different force to society. She rules by attachment and persuasions, and not by laws and penalties; and one of her own sex has cited the summary of her most unquestioned and most important rights in the registry of her most resplen- dent virtues: "The rights of woman - what are theyt The right to labor and to pray; The right to watch while others lslep, The right oer others' woes to weep, The right to succor in reverse, The right to blew while others curse, The right to love whom others scorn, The right to comfort all that mourn, The right to shed new joy on earth, 167 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. The right to feel the soul's high worth, The right to lead the soul to God, Along the path her Saviour trod- The path of meekness and of love, The path of faith that leads above, The path of patience under wrong, The path in which the weak grow strong:- Such Woman's Rights-and God will bless, And crown their champion with success." And the authentication of these rights needs no re- vision of the laws of heaven; no demolition of the family constitution. They require no radical changes of civil government, though calling for minor defenses and safeguards. They may be attained and enjoyed, though woman never cast a ballot, sit with a jury, pre- side on the bench, declaim in Congress, or participate in the councils of the cabinet. Her peculiar mission, if not wholly perverted, could be but little facilitated by the conferment of such civil abilities. "The scepter of empire is not the scepter that best befits the hand of woman, nor the field of slaughter her field of glory. Home, sweet home, is her iVedestal-of beauty, her throne of power. Or if she be seen abroad, she appears to best advantage when on errands of charity and wearing her robe of mercy." Though the family and the church are her sanctuary, universal society is the enlarged sphere of her influence. It cannot be restricted to any limited association, however important or sacred. The songs of birds are not con- 168 DUTIES OF WOMAN. fined to veinal bowers; but are also warbled forth over field, hamlet, and town, and fall in sweet cadences on the ear of the distant wayfarer. The aroma of the flower garden is not confined to its narrow enclosures, graceful walks, and refreshing arbors; but wafted by the passing breeze, fills the universal air with fragrance. regales the senses of husbandmen in the surrounding fields, and of the shepherds on the distant hills. The moon and stars adorn the dwelling place of man, though beaming upon it from a distant sphere. Without wo- man, society would be as the heavens without moon and stars, light and shade-a limitless darkness; as the earth without flowers, lawns, streamlets, songs of birds, and the murmuring water-falls-a material monotony. In a virtuous and religious female, the beaty of heaven and earth combine; the graces of the seraph and the daughters of Eve are united. Religion is the bond of perfectness and the crowning glory of female education. In proportion as the education and charac- ter of woman are improved, universal society is elevated and embellished on a firm basis. The poet represents Anthony, after his return from Egypt, in discoursing to noble Romans in a feast of the natural scenery and history of that country, as saying: - "Thus do they, Sir; they take the flow of the Nile By certain Sales of the pyramids; thev know 160 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. By the height, the lowness, or the mesa, If dastt Or poison follow. The higher Nilus gswel, The more it promises." Female education is the Nilometer of society. Upon its graduated scale we may trace the promise of nations, of the world, and of the future. As it rises higher in its tone, and flows more broadly over society, larger harvests of intelligence, virtue, truth, justice, charity, and happiness will wave year after year over the broad vale of -human existence. The family and society will he what woman is. When the gentler sex are graceful, elegant, refined, and religious, the other sex are never found to be coarse, vulgar, and depraved. Let us study the history of by-gone ages - the state of barbarism and civilization in the east and west, of paganism and Christianity, of antiquity and the middle ages, of the mediaeval and modern times -and we shall find there is nothing which more decidedly separates them than the condition of woman. The cause of the superiority of the Japanese to the other oriental nations, has lately been discovered in the elevation and refinement of woman; she is less the slave and more the companion of man; she engages in various suitable industrial avocations. Society rises and falls with her elevation or debasement. It can rise no higher in China, in Burmah, in Hindoostan, Persia, or Turkey, except with the elevation of woman. 170 DUTrIRS OF WOMAN. A Choctaw chief told the missionary, they fell into a great mistake at the commencement of civilized life among them. They sent only their boys to school They became intelligent men, but they married unedu- cated and uncivilized wives; and the uniform result was, that the children were all like the mother, and soon the father lost all his interest in both wife and children; "And now," said he, "if we could educate only one class of our children, we would choose the girls; for when they become mothers they would edu- cate the sons." Macauley tells us, at the period of the Restoration, the most desolate and profligate in English history, English women were far worse educated than they have been at any period since the revival of learning. This threefold sphere of woman's influence must be contemplated in her complete education. In such an education physical culture cannot be omitted. The celebrated Spurzheim declares, that, " The physical education of woman is far more important to the world than that of man." Bat how commonly is it sacrificed to habits of indolence, needless exposure, styles of dress, and to the retinue of dissipating amusements. A pale countenance and slender constitution are some- times entailed by weakly parentage, but oftener induced by neglect of physical regimen. Hence the beauty of American females fades so early; the worthies of the 171 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG, Revolution have so few worthy successors in physkal strength, beauty, and courage; and so large a portion of American women, burdened with infirmities and with circumscribed usefulness and happiness, descend prema- turely into the grave, leaving behind them broken hearts and bereaved circles. Mental culture is also essential to a thorough female education. By mental endowments and culture mankind rise superior to the brute creation, and to savage and bar- barous tribes. By them the most marked distinctions in civilized society are created or widened. It is mind that studs the firmament of life with radiant stars, and fills its broad circumference with light, beauty, and glory, Without it there would be nothing picturesque and beautified in society. It would be !ike the earth with- out flowers, landscapes, seas, forests, and mountains -a material monotony; like the forests without vernal foliage, blossoms, and the minstrelsy of birds -dark, cheerless, and haunted with spectres; like night, unre- lieved by stars and the dawn of morning. It is mind that crowns the family with order, dignity, and embel- lishment. Home cannot long retain its attractions without intellectual culture and converse. Splendid furniture, costly livery, and a retinue of obsequious attendants become insipid and disgusting if associated with ignorance, vulgarity, and baseness. Through the intellectual capacity and tastes of woman, the family 12 DUTIES OF WOMAN. may become a society of literary and scientific, politi- cal and religious, inquiry; and home a gallery of art, or a ball of music, invested with all the ennobling at- tractions of the highest educational institution, and the most hallowed union of earth. Woman cannot, there- fore, in the growing intelligence of the race, rely for respect and position upon mere domestic accomplish- ments; and much less upon mere beauty of counten- ance, or grace of figure, attitude, and motion. Unless these are sustained and adorned by intellectual impulses and graces, personal appearance and politeness soon lose their fascination and interest, and sink their votary from the respect of the intelligent. There is a beauty in character far transcending the most resplendent charms of personal appearance, figure, and complexion. In the order of Providence woman is the earliest instructor of the race. She gives lessons before any other teacher, and pre-occupies the unwritten page of humanity, and leaves an impression and imparts a bias that even death itself may not obliterate or remove. Such are the facilities of education, that females in the humblest walks of life, by early attention, and availing themselves of the interstices of time, may gain all the knowledge necessary for the honorable and useful discharge of their future duties; and it is with deep regret, that we observe so many young ladies wasting all these early opportunities, and all these in- 173 DUTIES OP TEE VMNG. tervals of time, upon mere superficial accomplishments, while the mind lies in ruins. In the amiable qualities of the heart and improve- ment of the mind, the poorer may rival the more afflu- ent, and these constitute a richer dower and lay a firmer foundation for domestic happiness, than ample estates or thousands of gold. In a complete education, domestic and associated, industrial accomplishments hold an important rank. Without these, woman is not fitted for her primary sphere in society. She can have no intelligent interest in the occupation of the household. Its affairs cannot be arranged with reference to the highest convenience or economy. If easy and charitable in her disposition, she is liable to be imposed upon by unfaithful or de- signing servants. If hasty and irrascible in her tem- per, she is likely to be unreasonable and censorious in her treatment of those most faithful and obsequiousb Her position as mistress is as awkward as that of a merchant without the knowledge of his business; an attorney, of law and the practice of courts; a general, of military science and tactics; or a sovereign, of civil affairs. Without industrial avocations, she is moreover deprived of the most healthful and ennobling diversions of life. Contentment and happiness are the handmaids of occupation and care. 174 Itwrwis (i, WoMAN. .17 The mother of Washington was distinguished for her industry. She was long rememibered in Fredericks- burg "as seated in an old fashioned open chaise, and riding almost daily over her little farm, giving direc- tions in the culture of the fields and the care of the stock. When Lafayette, in the fall of 1784, before his departure for Europe, visited Fredericksburg to pay his respects to the mother of Washington, he found her clad in domestic-made clothes, and her head covered with a plain straw hat, working in the garden." Such was the character of the noble Mothers of the Rev- olution. The distinguished women of England and the Conti- nent have placed a high estimate upon female industry; and they have exhibited a ruddier aspect of health, and attained a serener old age than American ladies of this generation are attaining. The model woman, as sketched by the pen of inspiration, was one of marked industrial habits; rising with the light, dispensing the provisions of the family, and busying her hands in labors of skill and utility. In the fluctuations of modern society there is no suf- ficient security against want or debasing dependence without some industrial skill. Without it and its asso- ciated economy many have precipitated the bankruptcy of their families. With it many have prevented the loss of estates, or retrived them when lost: elevating 175 DUT'IES OF THE YOUNG. their fatherless families again to respectability and wealth. The Queen of Louis XI, of France, was a pattern of industry to her sex. Surrounding herself with the daughters of the nobility, whom she called her daugh- ters, she was both their companion and teacher in ele- gant works of embroidery and tapestry. To save fragments of time, the distinguished Hannah More prac- ticed knitting, giving the proceeds of her industry to the cause of charity. A gentleman once called upon Madame De Stael, the celebrated authoress, and found her surrounded by proof-sheets, music, harpsichords, guitars, and the like. "s How is it possible," said he, " to attend to all these at once! " " Oh," said she, " These are not what I am proud of; any lady can do these. But what I value myself upon, is, that I have no less than seventeen dif- ferent trades, by any of which I could earn my living with my hands, if necessary." How much more honorable such a boast, than that of misses glorying in their ignorance of all household or other industrial employments. The day has gone by when woman is commended to the wise and good by such ignorance. Mrs. Child, also, distinguished by her literary labors, says: "A knowledge of domestic duties is beyond all price to a woman. Every one of our sex ought to 176 DUTIES OF WOMAN. know how to sew, and knit, and mend, and cook, and superintend a household." Woman must determine whether society in this country shall be distinguished by frugality, neatness, and simplicity, or by extrava- gance, effeminacy, and luxury. Her empire is home, and the administration will accord with her character and taste. But not only are such industrial and economical hab- its necessary to qualify her for the promotion and enjoy- ment of the prosperity of families and society; but they are often the only and the unfailing resource of adver- sity. Reverses often occur in the history of compe- tence and even of affluence. In such an event, one ignorant of industrial employments is reduced to help- lessness, dependence, and despair; but with such accom- plishments she has a sufficient reliance. A lady lived in New York, a few years ago, in afflu- ence. Bv reverses of fortune and the death of her husband she was left destitute; but is now rendering herself useful and happy by her skill and industry, in one of the villages of that State. Elegant accomplishments should receive their due im- portance, but habits of industry and frugality will more effectually promote her happiness in future life. Music, drawing, and painting, and a knowledge of foreign languages adorn female character and embellish society. By varying agreeable pursuits, enjoyment5 are multi 1177 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. plied. The mission and moralizing influence of art need not be wholly overlooked by any class of society. It directly or indirectly diffuses blessings to the homes even of the uncultivated. There are other accomplish- ments, as dancing, especially in its prevailing forms, of which a lady need not be ashamed to confess her igno- rance. The celebrated Dean Swift calls it "voluntary madness." The Chinese seem to regard it as a need- less and senseless fatigue. When Commodore Anson was at Canton, the officers of the Centurion had a ball upon some Court Holiday. While they were dancing, a Chinese who was a spectator of the scene, said softly to one of the party, "Why do n't you let your servants do this for you" However innocent and proper it may be as a mode of exercise for little girls in their mother's parlors, or for the pupils of a seminary; in its present associations of vanity, waste of time, and ex- travagance of dress, and expense of health, it should be discountenanced by every Christian lady. A lady infatuated by this and its co-ordinate amuse- ments, is proportionably disqualified for the sober duties and more lasting enjoyments of domestic life. Her chances of congenial settlement in life are few; and if at length fortunate in her chosen companionship, these tastes continued, augur a premature decay of domestic happiness, clouding the early evening of life, and precip- itating the failures and miseries of the succeeding 178 DUTIES OF WOMAN. generation. The animation kindled by the novel, and displayed in the theatre and the ball-room, is an unnatu- ral vivacity, an enervating excitement, rarely, if ever, inspiring the enthusiasm of virtue; but commonly dis- affecting toward the ordinary relations and duties of life, and increasing a susceptibility to the temptations which precipitate the fall of virtue, and spread crime and misery in the world. Hence the decay of fortunes, the fall of families, the miseries of domestic life, and the demoralization of the community. Beware how you are dazzled by these gay amusemenk,, or trust those who seek in themn their highest diversionr. and display in them their cultivated beauty and mannfrs. A young lady should confide in her parents as her appointed guardians, and especially be duly influenced by them in forming acquaintances or receiving the atttitions of strangers. Their strong affection and their experience of the world qualify them to be safe advisers. It is an error too prevalent among the young to found attachments upon the graces of beauty, and the attrac- tions of evanescent charms and superficial accomplish- ments, instead of basing them upon more solid endow- ments, and those principles and sentiments which are the only foundation of lasting friendship and unalloyed happiness. Those attachments which spring up around the gay scenes of a party or assembly room, nurtured 179 DUTIES OP THE YOUNG. amid such excitements, without mutual knowledge of character, and without the knowledge and counsel of parents or guardians, are seldom intertwined in the bonds of a pure and lasting friendship, but more fre- quently ally their victims to disappointment and woe. Says the Portland Tribune: "About ten years ago, a young lady of this city spurned the attentions of an un- ostentatious, industrious, and intelligent young man. She would abruptly leave the room where he was pres- ent, and curl the lip of scorn at the mention of his name. She admired a stranger gentleman, who wore a more fashionable dress, showed a more delicate hand, and who withal was agreeable and affable in his man- ners, and insinuating in his conversation. To be sure, he followed no profession, but there were vague rumors that he was an heir. To be sure, she knew nothing of his history or character, but he appeared like a gentle- man. She united herself to this bundle of indolence, vanity, and vice. She flirted away her days of youth and beauty with his chosen companions. Misfortune came over the family, the husband had no industry, no profession to support them, no virtue to render them respectable and conciliate public sympathy, and deserted her to a remorseful remembrance of her wayward and foolish choice; while the young man whom her pride disdained, pursuing his business, acquired a fortune, rose by his virtues to the highest reputation; and that 180 DUTIES OF WOMAN. unhappy female, who was deluded by appearances, and too rash to be advised, has often been glad to perform the most menial services in his kitchen." Such is but a type of the errors and unhappiness to which females are liable, when leaving the tried friends of home and forming alliances with the world. But as it is the order of Providence that such relations should be formed, be cautious in forming them. Says the poet: "Deliberate on all things with thy friend; But since friends grow not thick on every boagh, First on thy friend deliberate with thyself; Pause, ponder, sift; not eager in the choice, Nor jealous of the chosen; fixing, fix, Judge before friendship, then confide till death." Says a Grecian philosopher: "How strange that she who would not purchase an earthen vessel without try- ing whether it is cracked, will accept a friend flawed by vice." But the education of woman is not complete without the cultivation of the moral and religious affections. Without this, the most refined education may be like the paint on the flower pot, not only excluding moisture from the plant, but perhaps diffusing a poison to its roots, to enfeeble its growth, wither its leaves, and blast its blossoms. The mere external accomplish- ments of female education-the enamel and polish of some kinds of fashionable discipline -are hostile to the inner growth of virtue, and even diffuse through all the 181 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. forming faculties a poisonous, a blighting, influence. Religious instructions, sentiments, and feelings must permeate our schools and seminaries, and the minds of teachers and guardians, to attain the highest com- plemental feature in female education. It is the prov- ince of religion to elevate and ennoble the sensibil- ities of woman, subject them to the impulses of truth and justice, and render them radiant with purity and clharity. Our public sentiment, if not our educational system, encourages a precocious development of the sensibilities of woman. She is too early brought out upon the theatre of life, to display her beauty and ac- complishments, and aspire to ladyship and companion- ship with man. As the fruit trees which too early put forth leaves, buds, and blossoms, are blighted by the lingering frosts of spring, and lose all the golden prom- ise of the year, while those more warily and slowly opening their charms to the advancing season and the genial approaches of the sun, escape those untimely frosts, and hang with golden clusters in autumn - me- mentos of the wisdom of avoiding the hazard of untime- ly exposure; so this early intensity of life abridges its allotted period, enfeebles the race, and endangers virtue. Fine sensibilities are the charms of female character, if trained by virtue's hand. They are " like woodbines, delightful luxuries of beauty, to twine around a solid, upright stem of understanding; but very poor 12 iUT1I:S OF WOMAN. things, if, unsustained by strength, they are left to creep along the ground." If not guided by virtuous taste, they often degenerate into an unamniable and even mali- cious character. Some people's sensibility is a mere bundle of aversions, and you hear them display and parade it, not in recounting the things they are attached to, but in telling you how many persons and things they "can 't bear." The passional excitements of woman, under rational subjection and discipline, may impart energy and expres- sion to her character. They may constitute a trained and obsequious force to achieve beneficence and distinc- tion. But the passions of some are like a whirlwind. moving round and round, active, but not carrying thent forward to superior attainment. Without the regula- tion of the affections and passions, the uses of the in- tellect and the conduct of the life are perverted. They are all reduced to an abnormal action. The exhala- tions of a perverse heart obscure all intellectual and social beauty, and diffuse latent seeds of moral disease; as the exhalations of swamps and marshes obscure the heavens and the landscapes, and diffuse the seeds of pestilence. The imagination lends enchanting hues to vice. The reason is perverted to the palliation or defense of errors. The memory, instead of bearing along a picture of virtue, or a store of blessed reminiscences, 183 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. becomes a row of hooks to hang grudges upon, or a pandemonium of obscenities, or a show of vanities The expression of well regulated affections is like the mellow tints and blended colors of the rainbow in the heavens; like the variegated 'beauty of violets and roses in a garden. The highest care of the teacher is necessary to se- cure the noble ends of moral and religious culture. As the gardener improves the production of his orchard, by delicately and skillfully inserting the buds of choice trees -a tree of mean native stock being thus made to display the blossoms, and hang with the fruit of a score of select trees; so the buds of virtue in the wise and good may be grafted upon the character of the suscep- tible and young by the skillful hand of education. With pains-taking and skill, let bud after bud be inserted, till the daughters of our land shall be adorned with all the vernal blossoms and clustering fruits of female virtue. There seems to be a universal perception of its particular adaptations to female character and responsibilities. Eminent infidels have preferred believing compan- ions, and have concealed their sentiments from their own daughters. Piety in woman is generally connected with softness and sensibility of heart; and a want of it is generally associated with a hard and masculine spirit, always unamiable in femilal characier. Consider 184 DUTIES OF WOMAN. what Christianity has effected and Is effecting In the elevation of your sex to their proper grade on the scale of being. Ah, consider the consolations it has so often ministered to your sisters in adversity, nerving their strength, and sustaining their courage, and buoying their hopes, when deserted by those who should protect them, and struggling alone with the difficulties of life. Of what avail are the flattering commendations of the world, if God condemn Of what avail the most varied accomplishments, if not adorned in the righteous- ness of Christ What, though nature lavish charms upon your person, invest your features with enchanting beauty, if without the pearl of great price What, though princes and conquerors bow before you in admi- ration, and statesmen and philosophers court your smile, if God be angry with your pride and irreligion every day What, though the canvass or marble cele- brate your beauty, or poetry embalm your memory in the touching sentiments of song, if your name be not written in the Lamb's book of life The scenes of earthly prosperity fade as you gaze upon them. The lights of earthly hope are suddenly extinguished, while pouring their full radiance upon your path, and dazzling your eyes with their brightness. The ties of earthly friendship are sundered, while we fondly clasp those we love to our bosoms their countenance is changed and they go away. 186 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. There is one treasure that shall not fail, one scene that shall never fade, one hope that shall ever remain, one friend that shall ever abide and be more dear as others leave us; and when the notes of the last trumpet are heard, and sleeping millions awake to judgment, you shall be presented faultless before the throne of God with exceeding joy. Follow the Star of Bethle- hem; it shall illume your pathway through every laby- rinth in the wilderness of life, gild the gloom that will gather around you in a dying hour, and guide you safely across the tempestuous Jordan of death, into the land of eternal and blissful repos. CHAPTER VII. LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. "No shepherd's pipe cr ringing mountain horn, Or cock's shrill clarion, hails the rising morn: But rumbling wheels, and tramp of hurried feet. In noisy discord roll along th street; As ever flow the ceaseless tides of life, In contrast strange-with joy and sorrew rife; Where rich and poor walk side by side the street, Where loathsome vice and lovely virtue meet, Where teeming life pulsates in every part, An throb the Currents through some human heart." J. L. SPENcER. THE social tendencies of civilization traced in the first simple exchanges, associated industry, and rude settlements of nomadic tribes, are early developed in the concentration of large communities. Founded with the state, cities rise and flourish with arts and empire, and are exponents of their history and resources. An- cient civilization culminated successively in the wealth and splendors of Ninus, of Babylon, of Tlhebes, of Athens, and of Rome. And the progress and character of modern civilization are traced in the history of Lon- don, of Paris, and of St. Petersburg. As an historical LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. painting groups together on a few feet of canvass, scenes that transpired in different and remote sections of a kingdom; so a metropolis comprises and displays within its narrow limits the peculiarities of a nation or age. Or, as a play enacts in the entertainment of a few hours, and before the same audience, events that have occurred in different parts of a realm and at re- mote intervals of time; so the drama of city life is an epitomized representation of a nation's history; and combines or illustrates the most distinguished characters and events in the annals of the world. The history of Sparta and Rome, of Tyre and Carthage, would unfold much of the military and commercial history of antiquity. The ruins of an ancient Oty, animated with intelli gence and power of communication, could reveal to the inquiring traveler, surveying in rapt admiration and awe their extent and grandeur, the history of an empire. There, in the infancy of time, by some predatory excur- sion or voyage of discovery, was founded a small settle- ment. To protect an increasing population, walls were erected; and countless human habitations and costly structures were built by the varied skill and myriad hands of successive generations. Thence armies were sent forth for single battle, or prolonged campaign, to vanquish contiguous tribes, and extend empire; voy- ages of discovery were equipped to explore, merchant 188 THE METROPOLIS. vessels to conduct the commerce, and fleets to enforce the dominion of the seas. There philosophers taught, orators harangued, and poets sung; whose teachings, eloquence, and song, moulded the character and swayed the counsels of the state, and transmitted its wisdom and genius to subsequent ages. There countless myri- ads gathered from, and representing, remote parts of the empire and the world, lived, trod the same streets, and were buried in the same cemeteries. One city in its essential features is a tXpe of all, as a single plant or animal is the type of its species. A sketch of London, Paris, or New York, would constitute, with slight variations of costume, manners, and morals, a description of all modern cities. NATURAL ASPECT. Perhaps the first aspect of a metropolis that impresses the mind of a stranger, is, the variety, magnificence, and aggregate extent of its architecture. He approach- es it, just as the mists and smoke, spread as a covering for the night in ample folds over its countless streets and squares and teeming population, reposing as in a crowded dormitory, have been rolled away before the eye of the morning, and folded up in the invisible ward- robe of the heavens. At a distance he catches a first glimpse of some elevated section of the town, grad- ually expanding iipon his view. His eve ranges along 189 190 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. an interminable forest of masts, marking the contour of its harbor and indicating the extent of its commerce; it glances over different parts of the city, looming up in unequal elevations and diversified aspects; and lights upon a hundred domes and spires peering over them and sparkling in the sun. Entering its suburbs, he sees rising in every direction within their extending limits, in isolated neatness or magnificence, single residences and blocks of houses overlooking innumerable temporary habitations, that loom, up from ungraded squares, and amid artificial pools-like the houses of moles or beavers from mead- ows and shallow waters. Penetrating the city, he now wends his way through crooked and narrow streets and alleys, lined by dilapi- dated and gloomy tenements which almost shut out the light of day; and now, through some thoroughfare of trade, on either side of which rise dingy warehouses, five or six stories high, with their iron windows and blinds; and anon, he passes stately palaces built of marble, quarried in different parts of the globe, and in every order of architecture, adorning princely courts and broad avenues. Pausing in a public garden or square decorated with statuary and fountains, he gazes with wonder at various buildings rising near with their colossal proportions, grandeur, and magnificence, the repositories and memorials of the arts, learning, and THE METROPOLI1 religion of former centuries, and associated with the history of the commerce, legislation, jurisprudence, the army and navy of a kingdom. This interminable series of wonders, this endless magnificence disclosing itself on every hand, proclaiming the seat of the world's pow- er, the home of the world's science, dilates the mind with admiration. In this aggregate extent, a city sur- passes the skill and power of a single generation. As coral architecture extends by the imperceptible accre- tions of the industry of swarming myriads of insects, succeeding each other in the ceaseless prosecution of their work, adding reef to reef, till in its enlarged di- mensions, it reflects its amber light far around through the sea, the proudest monument of the intelligence of the ocean; so a city, by the imperceptible accretions of the wealth, skill, and industry of succeeding centu- ries, enlarges its circumference, extends its harbors and commerce, opens new avenues, covers acre after acre with princely dwellings and common habitations; while towers, gilded domes, and spires, as sentinels in sum- mer and winter sunlight and moonlight, and amid calm and storm look down upon the increasing extent, splen- dor, and magnificence of human works. Whether gazed at when its many spires glisten in the sun, or at night when its ranges of millions of twinkling lights distin- guish its squares and intersecting streets, a city is a 191 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. grand spectacle, a stupendous achievement of the ag- gregate skill and power of the race. IMMENSE CONCOURSE OF HUMAN BEINGS. Perhaps the next idea of a great city that engrosses the mind, is its immense concourse of human beings closely and permanently contiguous to each other. A few adventurers seeking facilities for military defense, agriculture, or commerce, effect a settlement. Traders, artisans, and professional men, follow, and along with natural increase, swell the aggregate number of inhabi- tants to hundreds of thousands and even millions, spreading like the waters of a flood in uncertain pro- gress toward the receding limits of the city. To an unaccustomed observer, the people at first seem to be moving with him, and his pace is quickened to ascertain what spectacle or event is attracting the crowd. Anon,.jostled by those passing to the opposite point of the compass, he imagines he may have mista- ken the direction of the exciting scene or event that appears to have called out the whole city. And turn- ing round, he beholds dark lines of human beings in parallel and intersecting columns, with hurrying steps passing angles of the streets, as far as the eye can reach. Turning through other avenues, the crowd is unabated. "He walks on and wonders where the moving masses will end. But there is no end. An 192 THE METROPOLIS. unnumbered succession of faces still meets him; differ- ent and yet different forms are ever passing." He is almost bewildered by marking the perpetual succession of faces, and by the ceaseless roar of blending sounds of voices, the tramp of feet, and of passing vehicles, falling upon the ear, like the roar of the sea breaking wave after wave in perpetual succession, and dying away in gentle and murmuring ripples along an ex- tended beach. He witnesses a military or civic procession. Its pro- longed line, many deep, waving the badges and banners of different trades and professions, embraces a circuit of several miles, and is as many hours in passing. Contemplating the number of the marshaled procession, he observes on either side of the line a continuous and more crowded succession of spectators, filling to reple- tion the broad space of the streets, and pressing upon the steps of stores and dwellings, to obtain a more commanding view. At the same time, from windows, balconies, and roofs of houses, peer out the faces of an- other unbroken and unnumbered succession of observ- ers. While overwhelmed by a conception of the ag- gregate number of the visible mass, he is reminded that in other streets, and parallel to and intersecting the line of the procession, there are other moving crowds, and in houses lining these streets, a vastly greater 17 193 194 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIPU. multitude, unattracted by the pageant, or confined by domestic or commercial avocations. Dismantle this vast population of their architectu- ral covering, and a spectacle more grand and imposing than the largest military review ever made by Xerxes, Alexander, or Napoleon, would be presented. Five, ten, or twenty-five hundred thousand human beings, standing almost shoulder to shoulder, meeting the glances of each other's eyes, and catching the sounds of each other's words, are "e collected together so thick and close as to give at some moments the idea of one indi- vidual enormous living mass, of which the streets are as the arteries and veins through which the stream of life is forever flowing." A city might appear to a superior order of beings, in reference to the swarming numbers, insignificance, and frail earthy covering of its inhabitance, like a burrow of ants, or a habitation of bees. At some periods of the day the crowd disappears from public view in the concealment of their dwellings; and at night the city reposes with only occasional interruptions of visible motions, and sounds of passing watchmen and messen- gers of mercy, and the louder tones of midnight bac- chanal songs. But at the call of the morning, or the startling report of some strange occurrence, the con- vulsed city ponrs forth into the streets, avenues, and squiares. crowds of human beinas. like the disturbed THE METROPOLIS. ant-hill, or hive of bees, crowded, covered, and black, with myriads of living beings in various and intense activity, and jostling contact, passing and repassing in apparently aimless pursuit. All are seen, but none can be identified, or traced and distinguished for moment. Though infinitely diversified, all this activity is related to a stupendous and complicated system of employment, producing classified results of order, beauty, conven- ience, and luxury; like the exquisite structure of innu- merable oompartnments of comb, replete with precious treasure gathered by countless busy agents, from many and remote fields and flowers. "1 Considering the thoughts, tempers, cares, hopes, treasures, and fears of all these beings, those of each, measured by his own, constituting a little world, and the scene of living beings and living interests within the narrow compass of a city, grow like that of infinity beyond the narrow com- pass of the mind." ARTIFICIAL ASPECT. Passing these more obvious animate and inanimate features that glare upon us so obtrusively, the inquirer becomes interested in contemplating more particularly the artificial character of the city. In its first and most obvious aspect, it is a magnificent pile of art, reared upon a base of nature that it conceals. The naturpl Foster. 195 LIGHTS AND SHAMS OP MTY LIME. features of the landscape are effaced, inequalities lev- eled, or rounded into a smooth uniformity; and the earth itself buried beneath pavements of brick and stone. Not a feature of nature remains in unmarred beauty, or a motion with free and unfettered step, or a voice in unstifled utterance. Eternal noise profanes the silence of her worship, and perpetual discords disturb the harmony of her music. The clear ringing sound of the mountain horn, or the song of the shepherd, the woodman, or the ploughman, echoing among the hills and over the sylvan lake; the soft notes of the linnet, the shrill tones of the skylark, the early messen- ger of morn, the whistle of the blackbird from the brake, the mellow tones of the bullfinch from the grove, and the concert of innumerable songsters making the fields and woods vocal all abroad, are not heard. Running brooks and sparkling fountains are obstructed and sealed up, and their waters forced through pumps and jets. The rose blooms in trained or rather confined beauty and gracefulness. Flowers wear less brilliant hues, and emit less fragrant odors; and the grass grows paler. Birds sing and display their faded plumage from gilded prisons. The clearness of the atmosphere is dimmed, and the light of the sun and stars obscured by perpetually as- eending volumes of smoke, clouds of dust, and more subtle exbalations from the decay, the friction, the jost- 196 THE MBTROPOLI8. 191 ling contact, of myriads of animate and inanimate objects. The air is warmed into an unnatural temper- ature by the emanations of animal life and heat; and polluted by exhalations from musty and drugged store- houses, filthy habitations, streets, and sewers. "Ye who amid the feverish world would wear A body free of pain, of cares a mind, Fly the rank city, shun its turbid air; Breathe not the chaos of eternal smoke, And volatile corruption from the dead, The dying, sickening. and the living world, Exhaled to sully heaven's transparent dome With dim mortality. It is not air, That from a thousand lungs reeks back to thine, Sated with e halations rank and fell, The spoil of dunghills, and the putrid thaw Of natui e, when from shape and texture she Relapses into flghting elements:- It Is not air, but floats a nauseous mass Of all obscene, corrupt, offensive things. Much moisture hurts, but here a sordid bath, With oily rancor fraught, relaxes more The solid frame than simple moisture can." SOCIAL CHARACTER. The social organization of a city seems scarcely less artificial than its physical structure. It is anti-domes- tic in its leading tendencies. Captivated by the ex- citements and splendors of social entertainments and foreign alliances, the rich and fashionable are less de- voted to the virtuous occupations and joys of home. There is an apparent ambition to be free from the cares and restraints of the family; to spend the summer In LIGHTS AND SHADIS OP CITY LIPE. traveling or at fashionable watering-places, and the winter at hotels. The poor also are repelled from their scanty and unattractive abodes, to foreign associations to which they are invited by brilliant saloons, sweet strains of music, and syren voices of temptation; while visiting strangers, uncertain adventurers, and a count- less number of tradesmen and apprentices, professional students, and merchants' clerks, are without even nom- inal homes. As distinguished from the country, a city is a community without homes, made up of the frag- ments of families and the association of strangers. The increasing number of common and elegant board- ing houses, splendid saloons, club-houses, and hotels, are the memorials of this artificial and demoralizing tendency. They flourish upon the ruins of the family, as the pomp of courts and the distinctions of aristoc- racy upon the ruins of the state. A city population is distinguished by an extreme and artificial levity of character. An envious rivalry may be traced through all the gradations of society; and ambition of distinction is quickened into restlessness. So fickle and servile does the public taste become, that the most inconvenient and fantastic model of fashion, in ten days would conform as many thousands to its standard. A perpetual vicissitude of fashion and ex- travagance, surprising the lower classes, and escaping their imitation, invests the rich and aspiring with term- 198 THE METROPOLIS. porary distinction in the singularity and expensiveness of a style of residence, equipage, or dress. To widen the distinctions of classes, and enable their votaries to escape the contamination or disgrace of vulgar conform- ity, innovation is made upon the established appoint- ments of nature and the fixed relations of labor and rest. The meridian meal is served beneath the shad- ows of evening. Social entertainments are opened at the hour that beckons the industrious and virtuous to repose, and continued till the dawn of the morning. The early hours of the day, demanded for industrial pursuits, are wasted in bed, in restless dreams, and nervous, enfeebling, and vicious excitements. And to provide for the social dance, or party, without inter- fering with the appointment for the opera, the night is prematurely ushered in by excluding the light of day from splendid parlors and assembly rooms. From the late breakfast to the ride, from riding to the bath, from the bath to dinner, from dinner to the public walks and gardens, parties, and theatres, with slight variations, make up the daily routine of a large class in a fashion- able metropolis. Athens had reached such extreme levity of character, at the crisis of her declining glory and empire, that the evangelist describes the Athenians as idle and volatile, without serious pursuits and indus- trial employments, listlessly going about to hear or tell some new thing. The same levity and dissipation are 199 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. now traced in the cities of southern Europe, and begin to exhibit themselves in greater or less degree in Amer- ican citizens. INTENSITY OF LIFE. City life, especially in the mercantile classes, op- pressed by the cares of business in addition to the claims of society, is also characterized by an unnatural excite- ment and activity. It is a hurried life, like pent-up waters precipitated through a raceway; or like a forced march, soon exhausting the vital energies, and impair- ing the body and the mind. Men hasten to the calls of business or pleasure, as if fleeing the pursuit of death, breathing and panting like a racer on the course. Urged on by the fear of a rival, or dread of defeat, scarcely allowing time for sleep, rest, meals, or sober thought, they keep their eye on the prize, and run for the goal. Standing in some thoroughfare, an observer is almost fatigued in looking at the hurrying crowd, which rushes by him and frets like a turbulent river chafing its banks. The activity of city life preys upon itself. " It is a feverish vitality that consumes while it brightens - the air is fire, the very soil a furnace. Sun- beams bring death; and the earth when struck sends up a burning vapor." The mists, the hazy atmosphere, quivering and vacillating over the city in the summer heat: and the volumes of dust that rise and move In 200 THE METROPOLIS. eddies, and roll away from it, darkening the sky by a perpetual succession of clouds, are but an emblem of the dark, vacillating, universal agitation of the passions of a great city, ever excited, ever eager, ever apprehen- sive. The unremitted cares of business, the rage of passions, the fury of politics, the restlessness of ambi- tion, the thirst of gold, the struggles of competition, overtax the physical, intellectual, and nervous constitu- tion, and doom it to the depressive horrors and enfeebled state of re-action; and fast wear out human life. Too many bewildering or enticing sounds fall upon the ear; too many objects tempt the appetite and provoke the passions. The soul has too many points of contact with the human world, and is contaminated and degraded by it. The force of appeals from without in the natural order of society, is just sufficient to develop to health- ful activity all the faculties. Where that force is multiplied by unusual, incessant, and varied appeals, without commensurate repose, the machinery of human life is overtaxed and impelled with a wearing, exhaust- ing, and destructive motion, like a piece of enginery under an excess of motive power. To the nervous con- stitution, these influences are like the extraordinary and protracted excitement of a political campaign, or a series of religious meetings to a devotee. Hence the race always deteriorates in cities; distin- guished families disappear in a few generations; and 1 8 201 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CTY LIFE. but for continual supplies of the elements of physical, intellectual, and moral character from the country, would soon sink to the lowest effeminacy, and invite the easy conquest of any savage horde. It is said in a late Boston journal, that of the present board of aldermen, only two were born in that city. and that but thirteen of the forty-eight members of the common council, are natives of Boston. A corresponding proportion of effic-. ient business men are also from the country. REPRESSION OF BENEVOLENT SYMPATHIES. Moreover, in the very constitution and circumstances of a large community, there is an unnatural repression of benevolent sympathies. There is no immediate con- tact of employers and the employed, that would secure more liberal remuneration for labor, and offerings of charity to the deserving poor, and relief for the unfor- tunate and afflicted. The subjection of industry and service to the relations of a commercial agency, without feeling or conscience, urged on by competition to reduce wages to their lowest possible terms, and deny all gener- ous reward, disturbs the charitable relations of society, and wrests from misfortune and wo, their natural de- pendence and last hope. The trading class in this respect, is liable to become to the mass of the poor like the middle men in Ireland, its curse and its scourge. Also the countless multitudes which one meets every 202 TflE METROPOLIS hour in a large community, the distrust and suspicion fostered by the knowledge of prevailing imposture, and innumerable and diversified appeals beyond the power of attention, preclude those mutual civilities that conciliate kindly feeling, and impair the freshness and vigor of natural sympathies. " If everywhere the heart has its partialities, its aversions are left dormant by the absence of those not particularly loved; and the principle of exclusion is quiescent. In a great population they are present to excite aversion, or experience indifference. An anti-social precaution of the heart repels the objects of want, crowding and pressing us on every hand, as if reproaching our selfish isolation and unconcern." "VWhere man meets the countenance of his brother, every moment glancing consciously or unconsciously upon the countenances of many thousands in an hour, where hundreds of families reside in a line with only a few bricks between their abodes, and hundreds of others confront them at the distance of a few yards, there is an infinite disproportion between the number of persons to whom the heart can extend a definite sentiment of kind- ness, and those to whom it cannot; " and baffled in their attempts to embrace so many objects, the aspirations and sympathies of the heart are thrown back upon itself in the cold and chilling revulsions of selfishness. The sensibilities of the most benevolent are blunted, the 203 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. less benevolent become increasingly selfish, and the self- ish become heartless and cruel. The vast disproportion between the seen want and wretchedness and the possessed means of relief; and the vague notion that this vast work of charity, so far beyond one's time and means to explore and relieve, will excite the attention of some of the thousands all around them possessing leisure, affluence, and benevo- lence, excuse or repress almost all charity, and amid thousands within call, the deserving sometimes perish in want and wretchedness. Benevolence loses sight of the individual in the mass from which in the aggregate it stands aloof, and the deserving poor perish unknown and unwept, when thousands would pour their tears of condolence, if the case were available to their sympathies. In its social organization, as well as in its physical structure, it may be said, "1 God made the country," with its domestic associations, relations of equality, its regular industry and habits; and its mutual and unre- stricted sympathies; and "man made the town," with its anti-domestic associations, undue distinctions of classes, hurried and thoughtless life, and restricted charities. Not that the concentration of large com- munities necessarily supposes an unnatural state of society; but forms of association have so generally fol- 204 THE METROPOLIS. lowed such concentration of human beings, subjecting large classes to conditions of living and employment, doing violence to their physical, intellectual, and moral constitution, as to justify the iniplication of the poet. One might almost be willing to find a mystic teaching in the confusion of tongues at Babel, early in the history of the race, dispersing man abroad upon the earth in agricultural pursuits, intimating the Divine wvill against the herding of the race in large communities. Certain- ly in the seige, the earthquake, the pestilence, and the conflagration, visiting chiefly, with their appalling hor- rors and wide-spread desolations, great communities, God has frowned upon their sensuality, wickedness, and atheism, in every age. The metropolis thus briefly sketched, in its distinguished features is united, by rela- tions of vital, reciprocal, and ascendant influence, to the State and to the entire human world. INFLUENCE OF THE METROPOLIS UPON THE STATE AND THE WOULD. This influence may be traced in fostering and diffus- ing all the elements of civilization. The aggregate extent of the trade and wealth of the metropolis fills the inquiring observer with wonder. In pursuit of the facilities of commerce, cities are gener- erally located upon protected sea-coasts, safe bays, and at the confluence and mouths of rivers. The shipping 205 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. at their wharves waving the flags of different and dis- tinct nations; serried warehouses, the depositories of foreign merchandise; the stores of jobbing merchants and minor depots of trade, lining whole streets and occupying entire sections of the city; and countless multitudes of merchants' clerks and porters passing and repassing to ships, custom houses, counting rooms, exchanges, and banks, evince the ascendency of the mercantile classes and the amazing extent of their coimmerce. They reach an extent of population and wealth, and splendor, in a few years, that were not attained by cities under the military or feudal order of society in as many centuries. Cities are the exchanges of nations, the markets of the world. National wealth is deposited and disbursed, and the agency of princely fortunes conducted in them. Through the channels of commerce, wealth flows into them from every part of the globe, as streams into the ocean, and is thence distributed again through smaller towns and the State. So rapid and vast is this accumu- lation in them, that the annual loss of thirty millions of dollars by fire, seems not to abate their affluence, or embarrass their commerce. The customs of London probably amount to twenty millions, and its imports and exports to three hundred millions of dollars annually. Its merchants direct the commerce and own half of the Indies. Its banks t4o a 206 THE MRTROPOLTS. great extent control the monetary affairs of Great Britain and the world. The amount of exchanges at a single place in London, annually is more than the whole British debt, or than half the wealth of Europe. The wealth of a single commercial city of the conti- tinent amounts to more than the aggregate wealth of some of its independent kingdoms. The wealth of New York city would purchase the entire landed and personal property of States of the Union; and its exchanges in Wall street per single day would purchase whole townships or counties in the most cultivated agricul- tural district of the State. As cities increase in wealth, they increase their ex- changes with the country: enhancing the value of its various productions and landed estates, clothing the wild mountain with beauty, turning the barren waste into a garden, and the richer soil into a blooming paradise. Along with wealth, arts spring up and flourish in cities, and are thence diffused over the state. The nearer, more constant, and varied intercourse of men, in the work-shop, the factory, the market-place, the local association, the news-room, or the religious meeting, tends greatly to elicit and diffuse intelligence. The very diversity of pursuit and observation fosters vari- ous thought and reflection; while the free contact of mind with mind, the competition of industry, and the 20 LIGHTS AND SHAVES OF CITY LIFE. rivalry of skill, promote the highest discipline, ex- pansion, and force of the human faculties. Hence the citizen rises above the nomad; the race, from a condition of barbarism; and cities become centers of universal civilization. All their diversified struc- tures, from the smallest piece of mechanism to the most gorgeous temple, are but a stupendous monument of art. Their broken pillars and dilapidated temples are but mutilated records of the genius, refinement, and civilization of a nation or an age; surviving its parchmentary records, and traditionary knowledge. Modern cities contain the rarest works and galleries of art; and in them artists find employment, and their productions a market. Stimulated by comparison, com- petition, and reward, genius there achieves her proudest triumphs, and rears her most enduring memorials. Territorial aristocracy have indeed been distinguished patrons of art; but whence the wealth that enables them so largely to gratify those tastes Whence those tastes themselves Whence the men of genius who minister to them In the natural order of things it is the town that adorns the country, and the citizen that becomes the noble. The arts that decorated and adorned baronial castles in the feudal age, were bor- rowed from the public edifices and private dwellings of great commercial cities that flourished centuries before. Carthage, Tyre, and all the trading eilties which lined 208 THE METROPOLIS. the coast of Phwnicia, excelled in every kind of man- ufacture, skill, and industry, and were the Manchesters and Birminghams of antiquity. A school of art flour- ished in Holland, a land of commercial communities, a a century earlier than in England, with her more aristo- cratic institutions. Commercial cities originated and transmitted orders of architecture distinguished by their own name, for the imitation of succeeding ages. And in later periods they have been far greater patrons of the arts than wealthy patrician families. The very causes that have given existence to, and fostered civilization, have given birth to all ornamental arts, and they will flourish only as cities multiply and become prosperous and great. From these centers are diffused all the distinguishing influences and refinements of civilization that pervade and affect the whole State. From cities also is diffused the influence of letters and philosophy over the State. We have alreadv adverted to the influence of universal, diversified, and intense mental activity, competing industry, rival skill, and emulous example, in promoting the intellectual cul- ture of a people, and elevating the universal taste and genius of the race. The availableness to a trading community of all knowledge of the wealth, productions, and commerce of foreign lands, operates upon merchants and capitalists as a strong incentive to intelligence, and they are perhaps more likely to be men of large views 209 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIPE. than country gentlemen or nobles of the same grade of intellect. The ignorance sometimes betrayed by mer- chants upon particular subjects, instead of evincing the unfavorable influence of commerce upon mental improve- ment and intelligence, is but a memorial of the lower social position from which it has elevated them. The Arkwrights, Watts, Fultons, Rothschilds, Barings, Girards, and Astors, men produced by the exigencies and influences of great cities, evince as real elements of mental greatness as Bacons and Newtons, Pitts and Peels, Clays and Websters. Though the profoundest investigations of science require leisure, seclusion, and meditation; and the sweetest and loftiest inspirations of poetry must be courted amid the beautiful, the lovely, the picturesque and grand in natural scenery; it is the exigencies of civilization, developed in large communi- ties, that furnish the chief incentives to that cultiva- tion, and demand and reward the productions of the artist and the poet. If Plato, and Aristotle, and Soc- rates, speculated, and Homer and Euripides obtained poetic visions on the lone summit of Parnassus, or em- bowered in the shades of Academus, the cultivated men of civic communities have appreciated and transmitted their science and song from generation to generation. Cities contain the archives of antiquarian and histori- cal societies, and professional schools and universities. Their extensive libraries embrace rare manuscripts and 210 THE METROPOLIS. productions of genius, and preserve the most interesting memorials of philosophy and science. Authors as well as artists find employment, or their productions a market in cities. The rays of a nations genius are converged through the lens of the metropolitan press, institutions of science, and galleries of arts. Literature, formerly confined to the courts of sover- eigns and the castles of nobles, has been popularized in its address and forms by civic influences. Instead of being addressed to men of leisure and science merely, it is addressed to the masses, and relates to the com- mon interests of mankind. The cumbersome and aristo- cratic folio and quarterly have been superseded by the small volume, the tract, the periodical; and from the metropolis issue countless and diversified publications, political, historical, scientific, and religious, like the myriad leaves of autumn driven before a storm, dark- ening the heavens in their flight. POLITICAL INFLUENCE. The influence of cities may be clearly traced upon the political condition and history of the race. In the progress of civilization, the patriarchal order of society and government yields to the municipal. Advancing beyond the provisions of family regulations, limited civil compacts are formed for defence of individual rights and commerce. Thus leagues or municipal reg- 211 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFB, ulations are traced in various applications and develop- ments, before the establishment of general and confed- erated civil government. All the inuuiincipal organiza- tions of early cities were so many experiments of civil government on a small scale, developing and preserving its elements for combination in a consolidated govern- ment in a later age. States were the territorial limits of city governments. All governments began and ended as municipalities. To the era of Augustus, Rome was only a munici- pality; her legislation in its provisions extended not beyond the walls of the city. Population was mostly confined to cities. Hamlets of individual families, villages, or the grouped habitations of a number of families, would not he seen perhaps in a circuit of thirty, fifty, or a hundred miles. At intervals the country would be occupied to a limited extent by temporary arrangements for agriculture, and slaves were engaged in tillage. It was not intersected by highways and roads, except in direct thoroughfares from city to city. Under Augustus an empire arose from a fusion of a thousand municipalities into one consolidated govern. ment. After the fall of the empire there was again a rever- sionary tendency to the order of municipal society. As the great central power was broken in pieces, its rem- nants were again embodied in the cities of Europe, 212 THE METROPOLIS. engrossing within their walls all the resources and de- fenses of the State. Sinking under the anarchy of the age, from the fifth to the eleventh century, they were weak-scarcely free. The feudal system seemed to direct still, more from its comparative importance, and prepare the way for the affiliated, balanced, and mutu- ally-dependent relations of city and country. Feudal lords occupying isolated castles iu the country, sur- rounded by numerous dependents, were the means of dispersing population from cities over hills and plains, on the shores of lakes, and the banks of rivers, in beautiful and isolated palaces and hamlets, and thus forming a link of connection between the ancient and modern system of society, blending the interests of country and city, of agriculture and commerce. After the eleventh century, another class of cIt.'es arose, called free cities. They were not, like ancient cities, independent sovereignties, providing their own military defenses, and pursuing independent military conquests. Those modern free cities resigned certain rights to a general government, and were defended by it in the pursuits of trades, commerce, and agriculture, without walls and standing armies, without annoyance or apprehension. Rising in importance, and increasing in commerce and wealth, they become impatient of the stipulated or forced exactions of the feudal lords, and by a spontaneous and universal, if not a concerted move- 213 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. ment, asserted their independence of them, and obtained enfranchisement from taxes. From that time the ele- ment of self-government in the municipal system became more recognised and defined, and the principles at the foundations of modern States and Empires were established. The science and system of government has been thus developed and perfected through cities, and their history comprises the universal history of law, empire, and di- plomacy. The civil history of antiquity lies buried in the archives of those cities whose ruins are the objects of antiquarian and learned research. National policy was developed and determinately formed, and changes proposed, and consummated, and declared in them. In later periods, we trace in their power and influ- ence a triumph of intelligence, industry, order, law, and liberty, over castes, feudal oppression, and military despotism. They have emancipated the State from undue subjection to a chief and his vassals, or a sover- eign and his nobles. Where wealth has given power to cities, they have become more or less free, and have diffused the present freedom throughout the countries of Christendom. They have emancipated mankind from undue local and national prejudices, and hy multi- plying the ties of interest, and associations, and acquaint- ance abroad, multiply and strengthen the bonds of hu- man brotherhood, and guarantee the peace of the world. 214 THE METROPOLIS. Though in the scheme of modern society and govern- ment, the influence of cities and rural districts coalesces, it is easy to perceive that the influence of the former is still ascendant. Cities are still the seats of sovereigns, cabinets, and parliaments; and their popular majorities, concerted action, and local support of the press, dis- bursement of the national wealth, and management of institutions of learning, philosophy, and religion, invest them with a balance of power in republics. Though various irregular and temporary causes may resist their sway, an equilibrium of political forces is obtained only in their ascendant influence. And the danger to States hereafter will not arise as formerly, from the incursions of barbarians from uncultivated regions of the earth. These forces have been shut up in narrower and nar- rower spaces by the progress of civilization, till there appears no danger in future from this source. The danger will arise from cities. In many kingdoms, as France, the metropolis can make and unmake, set up one and put down another. Outbreaks of popular vio- lence, and insurrections, and revolutions, as in Greece and Rome, will be originated in them. The conspiracy of Catiline was projected and its allies found in the imperial city. And later insurrectionary movements have most frequently originated in large communities, from some question of law, or exigency of society reached in a crowded population, and reouir- 215 LIGHTS AND SH4DBS 0F CITY TF ing in their progress and consummation the numibes, contagious enthusiasm, and reckless daring of an infuri- ated populace. The most terrible massacres that distinguished the French revolution, were perpetrated in Paris by not more than three hundred active participants, and per- haps twice that number of abettors; while more than fifty thousand of the national guards were in the city, with arms il their hands, to defend the existing order of things. The mass of the people, uninformed or unin- terested in regard to the precise design of the popular movement, might have been as easily swayed by more decided measures and bolder leaders, in any opposite revolution. In that same metropolis the exclamation, " 11 est trop tard," in answer to the tardy concessions of the reign- ing sovereign, by electric sympathy forming the purpose and swaying the action of the assembled and excited multitude, overthrew an ancient monarchy, exiled the royal family, and introduced a republic. Events that produce but a slight sensation amid a sparse population, may startle and agitate in the most fearful commotion, a large community. As the same breeze that slightly ripples the surface of an embowered lake, on the open expanse of the ocean raises majestic waves, that, impelling each other and increasing in vol. imim ax thev roll. break. and dash along the distant and 216 THE METROPOLIS. rook-bound coast with angry surge and deafening roar: a sound of alarm that would scarcely for a moment disturb the order and quiet of a small gathering of people, may throw a vast assembly of people into un- controllable panic and confusion. A single individual that could not determine the censure or applause of a social circle, may call forth the loudest hisses or demon- strations of approbation in a crowded theatre. So a political reformer that could awaken no enthusiasm, and secure no votaries in a sparse neighborhood; in a large city, where the many are indifferent or fear to dissent, and clamorous partisans applaud, many commit the community to almost any revolution, and obtain the enthusiastic approbation of the people. Police magis- tracies and standing armies avail little against an excited and united populace. Whether led on by wise reformers, or instigated by selfish and designing dema- gogues, they are alike enthusiastic, determined, and invincible. These amazing energies of popular excitement nmay with as great facility be made to overawe as to establish justice, to elevate a military despotism as a republic; and therefore keep the institutions of law and order in perpetual jeopardy. They repose as insecurely on the heaving bosom of a crowded metropolis, as a city on the brow of a volcanic mountain. While the influence of American cities on the federal and state legislation is 19 217 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. now paramount, in them, far more likely than in agri- cultural districts and sparse settlements, will arise those difficulties and crises of government that will threaten or overthrow our republic. MORAL INFLUENCE. The influence of the metropolis upon the moral and religious condition of the state is perhaps still more im- portant. There are peculiar causes of demoralization in a city: Its defective social organization already alluded to, depreciating the estimation of the associations, occu- pations, and joys of home; and interdicting them en- tirely to large classes, withholds the chief succors of virtue, and impairs or sunders her strongest bands. Its commercial character, by abetting the vices of trade, Impairs the sensitiveness and strength of the public conscience, and tends to sap the foundation of general integrity, and remove a principal barrier to universal immorality. Its exemplifications of wickedness, in apparent triumph, weakens in all, as the impunity and prosperity of the wicked did in David, confidence in the reality of a moral government, and greatly enhan- ces the power of temptation. Its innumerable and diversified temptations, appealing specifically to every infirmity, weakness, appetite, and passion, surprise dor- mant and latent depravity into formidable manifestation and activity. Its facilities of concealment, precluding 218 IT" na'rOVOLTS. the rebuke or knowledge of friends, or any amenable relation to the community, leave man under tihe ;or- ruptive delusion of a double atheism, feeling accounta- ble to neither God nor man, and removes the last restraints of virtue. And finally, in a large community sin finds ample scope for association and organization. In most of its forms sin can no more exist in solitude than an animal in an exhausted air-receiver. And its facilities increase to a certain extent with increasing population. Burglars, swindlers, counterfeiters, incen- diaries, gamblers, inebriates, libertines, and men of less -confirmed habits meet each other in congenial associa- tions, council, and co-operation. Every error, however sublimated and visionary, or vulgar and corrupting, may obtain votaries, have its conventicles, its organs, its preachers, and its regalia The perpetual contact of temptation with the sinful heart, like the collision of flint and steel, throws off incessantly glaring exhibitions of vice and depravity. It is not merelv that there are more offences against property, where property is most abundant, or that there are more victims to temptation, where there are more to be tempted. As fire-brands smoulder and go out when scattered, but blaze up in brilliant and iptense flames when collected; and kindling upon a continuous succession of buildings, along narrow streets, and tow- ering edifices, and lofty steeples, spread the terror and 219 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LrPV. destruction of a conflagration: so those evil passions that slumber in isolated and industrious occupations, are inflamed by association and fostered by the tempta- tion of a great city, spreading devastation among teem- ing ranks of population. The association of the sensual and depraved augments the inveteracy and loathsome- ness of their wickedness, as decaying bodies heaped together mutually facilitate a common putrescence, and augment their fcetid and pestilent exhalations. A city is a vast caldron of human passions. Ten thousand ardent excitements kindle and blaze beneath and around it; permeating and agitating its vast volume with the most intense heat; and mingling and stirring up from its most profound depths, the loathsome sediment of depravity, darkening the heavens with its ascending vapor, impregnating the atmospiere with pestilent ex- halations, and desolating the earth with its lava streams of vice and woe While there is a kind and degree of intelligence and virtue in large cities, rarely if ever found in sparse set- tlements, and the causes that develop tendencies to evil, to a certain extent, originate counteracting tendencies to good, it is certain that the same amount of the more deliberate and matured forms of depravity, are found only in large cHonimunities; and as it respects considera- ble portions of society, the standard of morality reaches its lowest point as you pass from the smaller towns to Z2N THE METROPOLI2 the greater. The whole man is more rapidly developed in cities, but the moral does not keep pace with the in- tellectual; it is more seduced by temptation, repressed by uncongenial influences, or blended with the selfish and sensual. With communities as with individuals, increase of wealth is increase of facilities of indulgence, and proportionately of temptation to habits tending to moral deterioration. Causes that encourage sensual propensities, foster all selfish passions, and tend to sink the man in the brute, in baseness of character, while resplendent with the intelligence and genius of an angel. In its combination of arts, learning, genius, and reli- gion, a metropolis becomes a radiating centre of light to the world. But it is a moral Pharos. While its light gleams afar, and greets the eye of the most distant voy- ager over life's treacherous sea, the darkest shadows extend from its base. He vho would explore the gloom- iest recesses of ignorance, crime, and wretchedness, must search for them beneath the shadow of temples and palaces. The description of Anti-christ, that stronghold of error, wickedness, and spiritual despotism, is given by the Rev- elator, probably in the terms of a literal description of Babylon, "that great city, because she made all nations drunk with the wine of the wrath of her fornication." "Babylon the great, the mother of harlots and abomi- nations of the earth." is The kings of the earth have 221 LIGHTS AND SHADES OP CITY LIFE. committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth are waxed rich through the abundance of her delicacies; her sins have reached unto heaven and God hath remembered her iniquities." The cities of the plain became so wicked, that ten righteous men could not be found in them, and the cry of their injustice, oppression, and blasphemy, went up to heaven, and a fiery tempest destroyed them. Before the downfall of the Jewish kingdom, the prophet with amazement and indignation uttered the inquiring rebuke: " Seest thou not what they do in the cities of Judah " and the measure of its wickedness was filled up in the blinded unbelief, oppression, and vices of its capital. During succeeding ages the most gigantic forms of wickedness have manifested themselves in large cities; which have waxed worse and worse with extending population and growing empire. The evil apparent in them is only a slight external sign or indication of the amazing extent that is unseen. The streets and avenues, bordered with paved and swept walks, and adorned with neat dwellings or splen- did mansions, furnish no indications to a stranger, of the dark, subterranean channels a few feet beneath him, intersecting each other, and converging to some com- mon sewer, and flowing with waters, black and fcetid with the offal and filth of the city. So the outward decorum, delicacies, and civilities of society, conceal 222 THE METROPOLIS. that moral sewerage that underlies a great metropo- lis, ever flowing with the vices and baleful passions of wasted life and ruined souls. "d This collective depravity is the most terrific and ominous apparition man ever beheld, more awful than the spectacle of the burning Cities of the Plain. Evil sufficient to poison a universe of corruptible beings is concentrated in a few square miles." In the affiliation of its forms it exhibits the unity, energy, and enormous proportions of a hide- ous monster partially concealed beneath the superficial disguises of law, etiquette, and fashion; but in its con- volutions and ponderous movements, heaving the bosom of society, and sending quivering and vibrating motions to its farthest extremities. These evils have the most abundant and diversified facilities for diffusing themselves through the land. The mail routes extending to the farthest limits of the State, and intersecting each other like the meridians on a globe or chart, the thoroughfares of national intelli- gence, the highways of thought and sentiment, diverge from the metropolis and affiliate with it, in ready cor- respondence and quick sympathy, the remotest parts of the empire. The city is thus connected, as by the myriad network of electric communication, with all parts of the country, and the powerful and assimilative influence of intercommunication is ever operating. Corn- paring the State in its enlarged dimensions, diffused 223 224 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. vitality, and social movements, to an animated being, the metropolis is its head. The nerves of the social body diverging from this sensorium, lie along the chan- nels of commercial, literary, and religious correspond- ence, affiliating every village, neighborhood, and hamlet, in sympathetic and dependent existence, and diffusing the influence of wealth, arts, and letters, to the farthest bounds of the state; and a reacting influence of every event occurring in every part of the land and almost of the world, vibrates along these nerves, and is tremb- lingly felt on 'change, and is thence radiated to every part of the capital and kingdom. The most trifling interest of trade, or industry in the remotest sections of the state, the failure of a banking-house in India or Europe, a merchant in Mexico, or a trader in California, affects the city. The adventitious value of opinions, of mechanical and professional skill, and even of goods and works of art, obtained in the city, increases this assimilative influence. A devotion of wealth and genius, and a stupendous aggregation of example, in a metropolis, avail to estab- lish standards of fashion, overrule dissentient tastes, and conciliate obsequious and general conformity in all matters of taste, from the style of a public building or private residence, to that of a coat or cravat; from the furniture of a lady's parlor, to the trimming on her cloak: from the order of public worship and the eti- THE VETROPOLIS. quette of a party, to the salutation of friendship or the pronunciation of a proper name. And this conformity, not confined to conventional and unimportant points, embraces vital questions of moral taste and manners. A remonstrance against the introduction of any ques- tionable amusement or custom is rebuked as proceeding from an ignorance of the approved standards of fashion- able life. And thus the vicious customs and arts of the Old World, reproduced in American cities, are diffusing themselves over our land. The river Oswegatchie, flowing from a marshy region, and engrossing in its course the waters of the Black Lake, enters the St. Lawrence. Above their junction that noble river is pellucid and traisparent, revealing the pebbles on the bottom, with beautiful distinctness, five fathoms deep. At first, it seems daintily to repel the turbid waters of its tributary, and restrict them to a narrow channel that can be traced, as far as the eye can reach, by lines of discoloration, and the trembling lotion of the surface. But the separation becomes iess distinct as you follow down the course of the river, and ultimately it mingles with and disappears, diffused through the entire volume, and identified in the quali- ties and color of the St. Lawrence. So the influence of the metropolis, issuing into the great stream of universal society, seems at first repelled and confined to a distinct and narrow channel, and may 20 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. be traced in its progresm by here and there a conforming custom, or fashion, or amusement, or style of dress, in larger and then in smaller towns and sparse communi- ties, melting away into less and less distinctness, till it diffuse itself through the whole broad stream of univer- sal society, by imperceptible assimilation, imparting different tastes, customs, and morals, to a whole nation or continent. This assimilative power is commensurate with the admired and coveted distinctions of the metropolis, and its perpetual and diversified intercourse with the State. Distinguished by a combination of the luxuries of wealth, the embellishmrents of art, and the accomplish- ments of letters, it is the attractive center of the social world. It is the point where the intellectual forces of a nation meet; and in the rivalry of teachers, the con- flict of creeds, and the strife of opinions, are determined its social, political, and moral destinies. There concen- trate all the elements of power; and thither rush all the currents of influence. The metropolis is a mael- Atrom on the ocean of universal society. All the broad, deep, and untraced currents of social influence set in toward it. Their central tendency, scarcely perceptible upon its remoter surface, becomes more apparent as with increasing velocity, they sweep through narrower circles, and at length, over this vortex,-sea struggling against sea, and wave battling against wave, in spent 226 TEEB MTROPOLIS2 fury, plunge into its dark abyss, and disappear amid the tumult and rage of many waters, whose contending voice is heard in loud and ominous roar far off over the ocean. The vessel of State, freighted with all that is pre- cious in liberty, lovely in social order, and venerable in religion, can be kept to her course over these furtive and circling currents, only by a steady hand at her helm, constant observation at her bow, and a frequent application of the plummet. Allowed to float casually, she will inevitably be plunged into the vortex of this moral whirlpool, where all the memorials of human power, genius, and civilization, of former ages, have been swallowed up and buried in oblivion. The lines of social and moral influence correspond in their frequency and direction with the roads of a State. The principal thoroughfares lead to capital cities, and are more hardly beaten, and numerously thronged as they converge to the metropolis. So all social com- munication is more varied, rapid, and extensive, as you approach a large town, and the paths of vice are more hardly beaten, as they converge upon the broad road to perdition, at its very issue in a metropolis. Stran. gers from every part of the State and the world meet there in mercantile, literary, and religious associations, and thence diffuse through the State and the world its 227 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. refinement and virtues, or its vices and demoralization. The fires of depravity that pervade and struggle in the bosom of universal society, burn more fiercely as they converge toward these moral craters; from which flow forth the lava of degradation and crime in scath- ing and desolating currents to the farthest borders of the State; and are perpetually sending up flame and smoke, vacillating, quivering, and darkening the whole moral heavens. Ancient cities stand along the course of civilization as a range of extinguished volcanoes, towering above and looking down upon the desolation spread around them, of which they were the sources as they are the most conspicuous points. All the vicious humors of principle, sentiment, or passion, pervading universal society, speedily manifest themselves in large cities; and a metropolis is a run- ning sore on the body politic, aggravated in its malig- nity and loathsomeness by all the vices and corruptions of the State, upon which it reacts in sympathetic affec- tion, threatening the purity and healthfulness of univer- sal society. Disease at this seat of social life is like disease of the lungs of the human body, and transmits enervation through the whole frame of society, l)re- cipitating decay, or protracting enfeebled and useless existence. And when deteriorating in growing demor- alization, with the fearful and convulsive strength of a 228 THE METROPOLIS. giant, interlocking the very framework and grasping the pillars of the state, the metropolis falls only with its ruins. To deprecate the existence of cities, because evil is more rapidly and variously developed by civic than by rural associations, and without sufficient legal and moral police, invests them with the most hideous and revolt- ing aspects; is as idle, and perhaps as unwise, as to deprecate popular education because it is liable to abuse and vastly enhances the power of the wicked. Cities will exist, whether regarded the felicity or doubt- ful necessity of the times. There the race, unless arrested by some nmore vigorous appliances of moral force, will continue to sweep on, in tumultuous progress, beyond the reach of law, of philanthropy, or religion, a wild, desolating, uncontrollable flood of humanity, every faculty excited to its extreme effort, every pas- sion to its most intense heat, every appetite to its most clamorous demands. In them the most important questions of law, philanthropy, and religion, ever recur- ring, and demanding solution, reach their crises of diffi- culties, perplexing and confounding the wise and the good. The cause of the race in future ages, and in all lands, is narrowed down in its problems to the compass of a single city. Our hope for the better does not preclude 229 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. fear, or the necessity of vigilance, precaution, and effort If the present experiment of American society prove more auspicious than those of the Old World, it must be by some wiser regulation or amelioration of the con- dition of large communities. The decay and ruin which have come successively upon ancient cities, must be traced, in an eminent degree, to the insufficiency of any false religion, and to the insufficiency of the true even, when grossly perverted, as a means of sustaining a high tone of social morality, along with an advanced state of civilization. Our hope, then, as exposed to all the dan- gers which have proved so fatal through the past, must have respect to our better faith, our superior wisdom, and more earnest philanthropy, as the momentous ele- ment, which alone can operate as a preserving leaven through the great substance of universal society. This leaven of energetic, conservative Christian influence, must be deposited in the heart of great communities; or in them will accumulate and concentrate a combina- tion of destructive elements that will explode and scat- ter in fragments the consolidated structure of universal society. If their intelligence, subordination to law, and general morality, keep pace with extending popu- lation, luxuries of wealth, and refinements of art, the star of empire will rise, and from its zenith continue to shine upon the New World with benigant promise. If 230 HU KETlPOLY& lawlesness and denoralization prevail In them, it will suffer disastrous eclipse, and at length sink in darkness and blood. In wise recognition of the concentration of wicked- ness in large cities, Judaism concentrated its moral forces in the temple, ministry, worship, and festivals of the empire city, to confront and repress demoralization in its most formidable manifestations at its source. In approbation of that policy, the Messiah directed his attention chiefly to the larger communities of Judea; and the first preachers under his instructions went first to the cities of Palestine, Asia Minor, Greece, and Rome. As philanthropists and Christians we would fasten here and there a buoy, and rear here and there a light- house, along these dangerous roads and stormy capes of the sea, where so many tempests sweep; so many furtive currents set in toward the gulf stream; so many sunken reefs lie; so nmay wrecks of vessels of.State hang upon the sounding rocks. We would point those who desire to cooperate in the stupendous work of reforming ad saving the world, to the importance of concentrating the highest moral agencies to repress depravity and vice where their outbreaks are most to be apprehended, and most disastrous; of raising barri- ers and dikes against iniquity and demoralization where they come in like a wild desolating flood. The metropolis is the eye of the State -may It 23t LIGHTS AND SHADE8 OF CITY LITF. watch for peace with all nations, for the rights of all citizens, to do good to all the poor, to instruct all the ignorant, and to reclaim all the vicious. It is the light of the State; -may it not gleam with a baleful illu- mination, to dazzle by the glare of its fashions and follies, to bewilder and betray by its deceptive hallu- cinations; but with the concentrated wisdom and intel- ligence of sound philosophy and true religion, as the heavenly light of the orb of day, shedding radiant glory over the paths and homes of all. It is the pedestal of the State's beauty; -may it display the true refinement of manners, and the true eloquence of art. It is the throne of the power of the State; -may it maintain and diffuse justice, law, equal rights, and liberty of the press; and in its balance of power always give wise and beneficent direction to government. As mankind were scattered to be sanctified, they shall be congregated to be glorified. Numerous association is not necessarily an evil; and is made such only by the ascendance of depravity, and its enlarged facilities of temptation. Diversified and indefinitely extended association, regulated by temper- ance, justice, benevolence, and piety, might proportiona- bly augment the happiness of social beings. Such association is a feature of the heavenly world, prefigured by a golden city with streets and gates of pearl. Its worshih) is the Inited horuage of an inn':rner le 232, THE METROPOLS. company of angels and the redeemed, and the blended sounds of its choral praise are as the noise of many waters. When benevolence, instead of selfishness, becomes the law of human association, a city will be the glory of the earth as well as a type of heaven. It will be the place of many offerings of beneficence to man and of worship to God. Instead of the voice of obscenity and blasphemy swelling on the gale of night, the in- cense of gratitude will perpetually rise from the me- tropolis, as the incense of a nation's worship from the ancient temple. While anticipating such amelioration of the condition of cities, we already trace its great preparation, in the exalted type of piety and the enlarged plans of benevo- lence developed in them. From them will rise an exceeding great number who have kept themselves un- spotted from the world, and washed their rol)es and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, to receive the brightest crowns reserved in heaven for the faithful. There the amplest opportunities of usefulness may be found, and the most exalted communion with God enjoyed, "Not in the solitude Alone may man commune with Rag-beav m Only In savage wood And sunny Vale, the present Deity; Or only hear his voice, Where the winds whisper and the waves rejes. 233 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. Even here do I behold Thy steps, Almighty --here amid the crowd, Through the great city rolled, With everlasting murmur, deep and load - Choking the ways that wind Mong the proud piles, the work of human kindL Thy golden sunshine comes From the round heaven, and on their dwelling lieu, And lights their inner homes - For them thou fihlest with air the unbounded skies, And givest them the stores Of ocean, and the harvest of its shores. Thy Spirit is around, Quickening the restless mass that sweeps along; And this eternal sound- Voices and footfalls of the numberless throng- Like the resounding sea, Or, like the rainy tempest. speaks of thee. And when the hours of rest Come like a calm upon the mid-sea brine, Hushing its billowy breast- The quiet of that moment, too, is thine; It breathes of Him who keeps The vaAt and helpless city while it sleeps."-BUayAIw 234 CHAPTER VIII. THE TEMPTATIONS OF CITY LIFE. "Virtue, forever frail as far, below, Her tender nature suffers in the crowd, Nor touches on the woid without a stain - The world's infections; few bring back at eve, Immaculate, the manners of the morn." YOwM. FIRST VISIT TO THE CITY. YOUR first journey to the city, in pursuit of a new home and fortune, is doubtless retained among your most interesting recollections. Scenes were flitting before your mental vision, as new and transient as aspects of the landscape, varying in rapid succession, with the direction and speed of the stage, the car, or steamboat, that was hurrying you to a new destiny. The near approach to the place of your future abode was at length announced; and looking from the window of the stage as it rose an eminence, or from the car or steamboat, as it wound round a hill or forest, or turned a point in the river or bay, you obtained the first glimpse of some lofty dome or spire, or elevated section of the 235 LIOHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. town, peering out in distinctness from its yet undefined extent and monotonous aspect. Soon the whole city is expanded upon your view. Entering its precincts, with strange sights flitting before your eyes, strange sounds falling upon your ears, and strange sensations thrilling your bosom, you wended your way amid different orders of architectural magnificence and meanness-temples of justice and religion in close proximity to sombre prison walls, alternate sections and squares of princely residences and of squalid habitations of gaunt poverty, idleness, and crime - to a place of temporary or perma- nent lodgings. Finding repose from such protracted and unaccus- tomed excitements, you could hardly realize that you were in a great metropolis. Your imagination had often glowed with undefined visions of magnificence and glory, as in the annals of history and the journals of tourists you had traced the extent, wealth, and splendors of ancient and modern cities; the abodes of sovereigns, senates, and courts; the emporiums of letters; the marts of commerce; and the galleries of art. Brought thus into local association with all the affluence of wealth, honor, and happiness, only fortune, fame, and pleasure were seen in the mental perspective, and san- guine hope repelled every doubt of success:- - 11 For life Itself was new, And the heart promised what the fancy drsew. 236 ITS 'TEMPTATIONS. That was a crisis in your life, a turning point of your destiny. The present retains its bias, and the future will receive its character from that impression, but we trust that the interests of that crisis are not wholly compromised, and are yet capable of a wiser and more beneficent direction. An ancient philosopher, wishing to render the most important service to his country, devoted himself to the instruction of the youth of her metropolis; regarding the young men of Athens as prospectively the most important class in Greece, and surrounded by circum- stances at once of distinguished promise and peril. And all enligh tened philanthropists - tracing the germ of human destiny in the incipient formation of charac ter; the elements of the individual, social, and national welfare of a people in the discipline of youth; and the hope of the Church and of the State in the promise of the rising generation-will seek the amelioration of human society chiefly by instructing and counseling the young. They will particularly address them in the periods and circumstances of their greatest hope and hazard. The youth of our cities stand upon a special vantage-ground for achieving good or ill, and for weal or woe will soon control the great agencies of human power. They are therefore the objects of the highest hopes and greatest fears of the wise and good -the most exciting spectacle that can be presented to the eye 237 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. of philanthropy and religion. A voice from Heaven, like that addressed to the Prophet, says: " Go, speak to that young man." " Go to him as he resolves to seek his fortune in the city; as he approaches the metropo- lis with his head teeming with wild fancies, excitements, and hopes; as he enters the enchanted sphere of city life; as he selects his boarding-house, his profession, his mode and place of business; as he determines his com- panionship, his amusements, and his place of worship. Go, utter in his inexperienced ear those words of wisdom that have sounded along the eras of revelation, echoed from every page; that have come from the lips of all the wise and good, swelled by the concurrent utterance of successive generations; that have fallen in affection- ate accents from the lips of fond and revered parents, and now come with sacred memories from the home of his childhood, or in mournful and persuasive reminis- cences from their graves; that have been sternly and authoritatively uttered by his conscience in his purest days, and return with every thought of death and a final judgment. Go, kindly and faithfully point out to him the various perils that surround him; the influen- ces that menace his character; the exalted destiny to which he may rise -the infamous doom to which he may faIL" 538 TS TUATIOM. NEW SCENES. The first class of temptations incident to the pursuit of a new home and fortune in the city, arises out of a removal from familiar to new and ever-varying scenes. Habits of virtue become conformed to one's social rela- tions, secular pursuits, and association with external objects. They are supported by the alliance of the the known and familar; which, like the outposts of a military encampment, cover every avenue to the soul, guarding against the insidious approaches of vice, and summoning the forces of virtue at the least approach of danger. Even inanimate scenes, familiar from childhood, seem invested with moral power. The fields and hills over which his boyish feet trod; the brook over which he leaped; the beaten path through the wood or the grave- yard; the mountain gilded by the early light of morn- ing; the murmuring waterfall, the leaping cascade, or the rushing cataract; the ocean, dashing and roaring at his adventurous feet, along a familiar beach; the trees beneath whose shade he played; and the school house, and the church where he learned and wor- shiped-all, by a mysterious association with early life, thought, and education, ally him to the true, the pure, and the good. All familiar sounds blend in sweet and harmonious accents of persuasion to a life of virtue. LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFV. All familiar objects, memorials of the obligations, temptations, privileges, and rewards of virtuous life, seem to smile upon upright conduct and to frown upon the least transgression. Severing these accustomed alliances, youth enters upon the strange scenes of the city, its dazzling splen- dors and bewildering excitements transporting to an unhealthy activity all his susceptible faculties. The protection of former habits is withdrawn, and virtue finds nothing on which to repose. She wends her unac- customed way amid the strange, the fascinating, and tempting, unaided by the memorials and alliances of the past; and she has little facility for forming associations that might replace her former supports. Entrance upon city life is not merely one great change but an introduction to a perpetual succession of changes. Assimilated to the circumstances and tastes of the city, the mind acquires a disrelish for the repose of steady habits, and morbidly craves novelties, with their surprises, their winning appeals, and insidious temptations. Places of business, of residence, and of worship, are changed with such facility and frequency, as to prevent the forming of conservative personal and local attachments. No hallowed memories cluster, in daily scenes, around the youthful stranger. The path of life is not indicated to him by familiar way-marks, as to the shepherd or the husbandman, cheering and so ITS TEMPTATIONS. giving confidence to each successive step; but is like the course of the traveler through the desert. Though thousands are traveling in nearly the same direction, and he have himself passed and repassed a hundred times in the same general course, the yielding sand and clouds of dust leave no familiar traces. The ways of life are moveable, and the walks and retreats of virtue are not identified with their accustomed attractions of congenial companionship, pleasing associations, and im- proving entertainments. Even the co-ordinate supports of intimate and last- ing friendship are but partially allowed. Friendships are too cheap, too easily available, to be greatly valued and sacredly guarded. There is little inducement to forbearance, explanation, and conciliation; if one is alienated, the hand of another has already bee prof- fered. A dozen different circles of acquaintance may have been passed through and abandoned in as many months. The sentiment of friendship is impaired or worn out, Youth goes armed with a selfish and suspecting neu- trality; he reposes confidence in few, is distrustful of all. Recognizing no connection with others in venera- ble relations and sacred interests, there is nothing in the way of lawless passions; the protection of moral interests is wanting, as would be that of pecuniary possessions in the removal of the laws of property. 21 241 LIGHTS AND SHADPF. OF CITY LIFE,. The barriers of vice are thrown down in every direc. tion, and the strongholds of virtue removed. A course of life opened up through such new and strange associ- ations and perpetually recurring changes, dissevered from the alliances of the past, the conservative influen- ces of permanent local attachments, and selected and lasting friendships, must be fraught with innumerable temptations and perils to the young. Allow not, then, that love of novelty which will enlarge and strengthen these temptations, but rather repress it. Seek as far as possible permanent associa- tions in business, companionship, and in religious wor- ship. Idle curiosity leads not to wisdom and virtue, but to dissipation and vice. A morbid disposition to hear distinguished preachers and see new chapels, en- hances not the sacredness of the Sabbath and of wor- ship; but fosters religious dissipation, and leads ulti- mately to the abandonment of all places of worship. Be not ambitious of the credit of having seen all that the great metropolis contains. You had better crawl through the turbid filth of its sewers to gain this credit, than to seek to explore all its hidden abominations. The eyes are seldom satisfied with seeing or the ears with hearing, till shame and ruin mark you as their vic- tim. Wise is the youth who tries to see how near he can strike his oar upon the verge of the cataract and eseape; or how near he can leave the mark of his skate K2 1 TEMPTATIONS. to an opening in the ice; or how far inward he can move upon the circling eddies of the whirlpool to feel the sensation of the motion, and fathom its sounding rocks and yawning vortex; compared with him whose infata- ated curiosity leads him to explore indiscriminately the evil and the good. Rather look at the good, the pure, and the true, and, like Bunyan's Pilgrim, putting your fingers in your ears, flee from all scenes of profligacy and dissipation. Avoid the ways of sinners and the seats of the scornful, the instructions of error, the blas- phemies of infidelity, the gay circles of dissipating amusements, and insidious temptations; as far as pos- sible reproduce the alliances and associations of virtue you have left; maintain the same regular habits; and let not the surprise of novel temptations and unexpected gusts of passion sweep you away. CONSERVATIVE INFLUENCES OF HOMEL Another class of temptations, nearly related to those already mentioned, arises from the want of the conserv- at've influences of home. The domestic is the original and divinely appointed order of human society. It embraces in its appropriate and concentric circles that precise classification of soci- ety which is adapted to give scope to natural affections, repress selfish and lawless passions, harmonize the in- terests, and protect the virtues and happiness of the race. LIGHTS AND SHADES OP CITY LIFE, All the properties and laws of Nature are reduced to particular relations and combinations adapted to sub- serve her own beneficent economy. Any disturbance- of these relations produces commensurate evils; while any new combination might explode the earth to frag- ments, resolve its elements into chaos, and roll the fired heavens up as a scroll. In family circles and asso- ciations, all the social elements are reduced to their most auspicious and conservative relations. The virtue of each becomes the interest of the whole, and all are armed against the incursion of lawless passions and disorganizing vice, as against the invasion of a dreaded foe, by an appeal to their hearts, and fires, and altars, the pure and blessed fellowship of their homes. Any other order of alliances, therefore, superseding this, would as manifestly thwart the beneficent designs of Providence, and jeopard the higher interests of man- kind, as the disorganization of churches, or the anarchy of States. How sweetly are the united attractions of home rela- tions cherished in fond reminiscence and virtuous affec- tions till the closing hour of our earthly existence I "' I ne'er shall forget thee, Blessed home of my heart I The fond remollections Thou bringest to me Of endearing affections, Shall bind me to thee." A" 11'S TEMPTATIONS. Though like the various beneficent and potential agencies of Nature, no passing account may be taken of this silent, varied, and extensive influence of home upon virtuous affections:- "Yet like some sweet, beguiling melody, go sweet we know not we are listening to it, Thou the meanwhile art blending with my thoughtq tea, with my life, and life's own secret joy." Domestic influences penetrate the soul, unfold and cherish all its amiable virtues and lovely graces, as the sunlight, bland air, and genial influences of the morning open the rosebuds and early flowers. Mfore than any other influences, they win upon the vaywardness and insubordination of youth, and restrain from incipient steps, or reclaim from the advanced progress of vice. When tempted to seek some doubtful amusement or companionship, their influences may dissolve the enchant- ment. When some act of adventurous depravity, some alliance of dissipation and profligacy is actually resolved upon, they may break the fatal infatuation and reassure conscience. All dark thoughts that harass and soil the mind amid the temptations of business and worldly as- sociates, are dissipated by the light of home. Images of parental authority and kindness impressed upon the mind by daily association, attend his path, beset with temptations, as guardian angels. The fond mother watches over his nath, encouraging and reward- )45 LIGHTS AND SHADRS OF CITY LIFE. ing every virtue with her complaisant and affectionate smile, forgiving with incomparable charity every depre- cated evil, and with sad and regretful look reproving every allowed fault. The wise father observes with exulting admiration every mark of developing genius and virtue, or with intense solicitude every unfavorable token of character; and with gentleness, authority, and affection, imposes his hand upon his head, and drops the warm tear on his brow, as he administers counsel and reproof, or supplicates the pardon and blessing of heaven. Thus, virtue nestles and grows under the brooding wing of parental care, till plumed to soar in lofty and sustained flight. But tempted too soon abroad to essay the rapid and precarious flight of life, and buffet its storms, her unaccustomed wing falters with unequal and remitted effort, and she sinks from her lofty aim and native impulse to the degrading level and grovel- ling pursuits of vice, and is seldom able to regain her true elevation and resume her destined course. Youth, embowered in the shady and genial retreat of home, is sheltered from the unfriendly influences of the world, as the graceful undergrowth of the for- est from sultry heats and blasts of the tempest by the stately pines and broad-armed oaks. While the forest above is withered and paled; ancient trees are stripped of their giant branches, or rocked in their 246 ITS TEMPTATIONS. beds, and precipitated from exposed summits; the pliant sapling, still green and fresh, gently waving to the gale that sweeps so fiercely above, loses not a branch, or twig, or leaf-but striking its roots deeper, and grasping with multiplying fibers an ampler extent of soil, is preparing to rear its head against the storm and defy the elements, when in the course of nature the protection of the parent-forest is removed. So youth, sheltered beneath the protection of home from the withering heats and incursive blasts of temp- tation, strikes the roots of virtue deeper, with gradual and attempered trials, till in due course it is prepared to endure the vicissitudes and exposures of life; and premature removal from these protecting influences is as unnatural and likely to be as fatal as to remove the sapling from the shielding forest, and transplant it, with mutilated roots and in an uncongenial soil, upon an exposed hill-side. Such is the exposure of every young man coming from remote parts of the country to the city to learn a business, perfect himself in a profession, or to gain or improve a fortune. Surrounded as he is by new and innumerable temptations, no boarding-house, with the most select association and guardianship, could supply the conservative influences he has left. But with his first seanty income, he ean avail himself only of the poorest accommodations of an unattractive and 27 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. crowded house. No quiet chamber is allowed for retirement and study; no neat parlor, free from the interruptions of noise and the intrusion of unconge- nial persons, attracts him by its select companionship, collection of useful books, and choice cabinet. Discontented and repelled from this poor substitute for a home, after his evening meal, he may read the following, or some similar advertisement in the paper: " Citizens and strangers wishing to spend an hour com- fortably, in a quiet and beautifully furnished retreat, where the best of liquors, wines, and segars, are offer- ed, and where they can have access to all the papers of the day, besides the English and American pictorials, are respectfully solicited to drop in at No.-, street." Or he may go out by invitation of some fellow-boarder; or stroll abroad in quest of a more congenial resort. On almost every corner, some saloon brilliantly lighted, opens its attractive portals. It is furnished on a scale of the richest luxury, with splen- did mirrors, costly divans, easy lounges, and tables covered with late journals and pictorial works. Paint- ings of great artistic merit, arranged upon the walls, sqnd exhibiting the nude and seductive forms of female beauty, appeal to the ardent passions of youth; and corresponding music in sweetest strains steals upon his senses. Often, to add to the attractions of these plaves, varving entertainments4, of the buffoon, dlanseuse, 2B ITS TEMPTATIONS. and the ballad-singer, are furnished. Captivated by such scenes, the unsuspecting youth repeats his visits, finds out other similar resorts, and finally is in the habit of being abroad every night, and is found at his hoarding house only for his meals and late lodg- ings. He visits all the distinguished saloons, refec- tories, bowling alleys, theatres, gambling-hells, and other abodes of affiliated infamy. No mother waits his return to second, by her solicitous inquiry, the reproofs of conscience; no father to aid the return- ing conviction of better counsels, by lessons of expe- rince, or to arrest his incipient course of evil by the timely interposition of yet revered authority; no s4ster to recall him from his almost unconscious es- trangement from the delicate sympathies of virtue, by her sweet voice and winning smile. Removing these restraints from the impetuosity of youth entering a large city, is like taking off the break from a train of cars at the summit of an inclined plane, leaving them to move with dangerous and con- stantly accelerating velocity; and thousands under this motive power, unrestrained, renouncing every virtue before observed, and pursuing every vice before deprecated, rush precipitately to destruction. Sever- ing this last bond that holds the bark of youth to its moorings in the harbor of virtue and peace, is like parting the cable of the noble vessel. already 22 -249 200 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. careering and bounding before the storm, and allow- ing it to dart away, like a race-horse, before the gale, without pilot, or compass, to be stranded and wrecked in hopeless ruin. 0 then, be entreated to consider your exposed situa- tion, surrounded by so many insidious temptations, and without the necessary defenses of virtue. In select companionship replace them as far as you can. Let thought of parents, absent, perhaps now in heav- en, keep you back from the devious paths of sin. When vacillating between claims of duty and temp- tation, let the thought of a departed mother, who once reproved you for your childish follies, and for- gave them, and commended you to virtue and to God -the memory of her serene, affectionate, and regret- ful countenance-recall the purpose and inspire the courage of virtue. One of the finest and bravest of the officers that fell upon the embattled plains of Mexico, and one that obtained early and distinguished promotion, while a cadet at West Point, being impor- tuned by a high-spirited and reckless companion to drink with him the enchanted cup, and chided for his cowardly refusal, simply replied, "bMy mother would not wish me to." Oh I in our sterner manhood, when no ray Of earlier sunshine glimmers on our way; When girt with in, and sorrow, and the toil Of car.es which tear the bosom that they s011:- ITS TEMPTATIONS. Ohl if there be in Retrospection's chain One link that binds us to the past again, It is the memory of a mothers love." He that hallows such reminiscences, confirms one of the strongest bonds of a virtuous life; he that hath not home virtues in his soul, and is not moved by the sweet concord of domestic affections, is " fit for trea- sons, stratagems, and spoils." AVARICE AND FRAUD. Another class of the temptations of large cities arises from prevailing over-estimate of wealth, and fraudulent methods of business. Cities are the ex- changes of nations, the markets of the world. The countless multitudes of merchants, clerks, and porters, passing and repassing to the depots of exchange, con- tinually remind us of the numbers and ascendency of the mercantile class. Commercial influences must therefore to a great extent affect the social and moral character of a city. They tend to foster an idola- trons and corrupting estimate of wealth, and to sub- ordinate the higher ends of intellectual and moral culture, domestic virtues, and happiness, to its acqui- sition. If the worship of the world in the devotement of supreme regards, could have been symbolized, at dif- ferent periods, we should at one time have beheld man 251 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. oflering supreme homage to Mars; at another, to linerva, Apollo, or Ceres; at another, to Venus or Bacchus; and at another, to Mammon. In a fair representation of the present comparative homage of the world, the altars of Mammon would be found to out- number and surpass in splendor all others. Its temples are reared and its magnificent and imposing ceremo- nial worship is enacted in the city. Thither the tribes of the people go up in the engrossing pursuits of wealth -like the ancient Hebrews to Jerusalem, and the inhabitants of Asia to Ephesus-to pay their homage, participate in the solemnities, and join in the idolatrous shouts going up before this gilded divinity whom now all Europe and America worship. From the altar of Mammon, a votary goes away, bearing, as indelibly if not as conspicuously, the marks of the shrine at which he has bowed, as from the altar of Bacchus. The delusion may not surprise him into as many vulgar improprieties, but may fascinate him imperceptibly into as many fatal errors, downright follies, and heinous crimes. The intoxication may not be as violent, neither is it as intermittent; it is incor- porated more completely into the habit of the soul, and allows fewer intervals for sober reflection and escape. From a regard for money as a means to the advantages of life, such a votary passes to a strange and infatuated idolatry for the thing itself; not merely 252 ITS TEMPTATIONS. in proportion to, but without regard to its uses, even better pleased with accumulated investments, without the prospect or even possibility of ever using them; as if "The chief end of man Is to keep what he's got, And get what he can." Intellectual imbecility, elevated to distinction by wealth, puts on affected airs, prates ignorance, and uses insolence with impunity and even applause. Dark fraud occupies princely habitations, rides in rich livery, and by gold winds its way to any circle and social advantages. Impudent vice, shielded by the immun- ities of wealth, shines in the elegant attire and circles of fashionable life, repelling the inquisitiveness and scorning the censures of virtue. All eminent advan- tages and distinctions appear to be conferred by riches, and society seems to be framed upon the principle of its supreme control. By observation, contagious ex- ample, and the assimilating influence of daily pursuits, youth is taught to ascertain the value of all things- health, intelligence, talents, and even virtue-upon the list of prices current; and to prize acquisitions and occasions, as they may be converted into gold. As money is a representative of all advantages, and answers almost all purposes-procuring fame, appeasing conscience, and atoning for crime, or defy- 263 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. ing its punishment- he imperceptibly becomes willing to subordinate all claims to its attainment, and to pursue it by the most available means, with little or no scruple as to their character. Many make it the supreme end; and others, ranking it too high, repress proportionably nobler sentiments and pursuits; pre- elude the most exalted fellowship and happiness of life; and obscure the hopes of immortal blessedness. Avoid this over-estimate of wealth. Your life-its length, its happiness, its usefulness, its honorable fame-does not depend upon the abundance of the things you possess. Let not its pursuit repress nobler aims, soil your character, destroy your virtue, and degrade your soul to an infamous baseness. Amid this class of temptations there is a still greater liability that your virtue will become impaired, and your character tarnished by the vices of trade. The exchanges of the country are so limited, and their laws so simple and well defined, as to preclude, to a great extent, opportunities or temptations to dishon- esty. The exchanges of the city, on the other hand, are so extensive, their forms and circumstances are so various, and their relations so intricate and subtle, as ever to present new modes, opportunities, and formldable temptations to fraud. It is there we hear, as one of the most familiar sounds, the buyer exclaim- ing: "itt is naught, It is naught;" depreciating the M5 TTS TEMSTAT ENS. merchandise he is purchasing; and straightway, as vender, "1 making his boast " in extravagant and some- times untruthful commendation of the same wares. Intense and universal competition-taxing industry, perseverance, prudence, shrewdness, and enterprise- continually impels to the arts of deceit and cunning, to improbity and fraud. The conscience is perpetu_ ally plied with plausible temptations; and instances of its violation are multiplied, till it becomes insen- sate, and its transgressions are viewed with indiffer- ence or palliation. Questions of custom and expedi- ency supersede those of right, and the immutable laws of integrity are modified to the existing nx14es of business and to public sentiment. Honesty no longer appears so rigid, nor veracity so unprevaricating a virtue, as it once did. The bold and prominent dis- tinctions of right and wrong so shade into each other and fade away, as to impair the hold of virtue upon the mind, alleviate the pressure of obligation, and facilitate general demoralization. By such influences young men are liable to be precipitated to lower and yet lower arts of cunning and deceit; availing themselves of false measures, false weights, and innumerable modes of dihonesty -till their characters, formed in this routine and friction of commercial frauds, "like pebbles in a brook, are rounded into a smooth uniformityT, in 255 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LrFE. which all the points and angles of a virtuous sing-w- larity are lost." They are afore prepared to become, by tempting occasions, fraudulent clerks, agents, or partners; de- faulters in corporate and public offices; or common thieves, counterfeiters, forgers, or burglars; for con- science, betrayed at one point, is weakened at alL The habitual violation of one law renders easy and almost necessary the violation of others. Thus demoralization flows into a city through the ehannels of commerce, and through them also flows back over the country, assimilating all affiliated pro- fessions and pursuits to the same standard of morals, menacing the foundations of public virtue and the- faith of states. For what can theories of morals and religious professions avail, when the public conscience is despoiled of its sensitiveness to the distinctions of right and wrong, and its barriers against vice are removed As the rain-drops, trickling down the crev- ices of the mountain, loosen its adamantine bonds, and at length cleave down in a train of ruin to the plain, great masses that bad defied the effacing hand of human power, the innovations of time, and the storms of centuries; so the hidden influences of fraud, perverting the conscience, insidiously loosen the found- ations of civil institutions, and hasten the overthrow of cities and the downfall of empires, ITS 'TEMPTATI7O1NS. You must have been sensible of the operation of these influences upon yourself. Surprised and revolted at successive disclosures of new and more daring frauds, you have been ready to doubt all men, and trust no one; and as confidence in others was dimin- ished, a sense of your own obligations was weakened Seeing innumerable wrecks of virtue swept from the positions you now occupy, by these furtive and pow- erful currents, you have been almost ready to aban- don yourself to be hurried along the torrent that is bearing so many unresisting to perdition. You have felt the supports of virtue giving way, and the pres- sure of the waters rising higher and higher against you, threatening every moment to remove you from your balanced position. Watch, then, against these insidious influences. If you have progressed undis- covered along the course of peculation, fraud, and the insensation of conscience, earnestly strive, before it is too late, to regain that standing point of virtue -a good conscience. Part with its peace, its fel- lowship, its joy, its protection, for commercial advan- tages, and you part with gold for trash, you sell your birth-right for a mess of pottage. Avoid the incipient violations of conscience, the alliances of iniquitous trade, and the associations of unprincipled and dishonest men. Never borrow of your employer the smallest sum without leave; if 257 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. you borrow without liberty, you may steal; if you take a penny, you may a pound; if you defraud for your employer, you many defraud him; and if you deceive or equivocate for another, you may for your- self. A loan for sums to procure an article of dress, or attend a place of amusement, intended as an an- ticipation of a salary perhaps due in a few weeks, is often the precursor of stupendous frauds, scheming villanies, and utter and hopeless ruin. However adroitly and secretly you may carry on fraud, sooner or later you will be confounded and covered with shame by its discovery. That adept in villainies who could swindle from shrewd merchants, statesmen, and lords, after unavailing attemps to escape, emaciated, broken in spirit, and reduced toward idiocy by debas- ing habits, died, as a fool dieth, in Sing-Sing. Late- ly a young man in a neighboring city escaped with a large sum from the bank in which he was employed, crossed the ocean, and sought to conceal himself in England and in France, under an assumed name; but was arrested and brought back to deplore the loss of character that can never be recovered. So, sooner or later, will all deviations from probity cud. Avoid also the occasions of fraud-extravagance in dress, expensive amusements and habits, and all associations that require more means than you can honesflv command, and which may tempt you to 2S8 ITS TEMPTATIONS. 259 anticipate your salary in borrowing of a friend or your employer. Approach not a gambling-board, and venture not upon rash speculation to acquire fortune without patient industry and labor. These exigrencies search the weakness of principle. Having crossed the line of dishonesty, a man has virtually fallen: unfaithful in the least, he only waits the occasion to be unfaithful in much. By the yielding of conscience, the whole structure of virtuous character will sooner or later be precipitated to its downfall, as a stately edifice or temple, by the yielding or decay of its foundation. Though the trial by gold is more searching and more fatal than the old trial by fire, you may come out unscathed. How grateful to oppressed virtue the following memorial of the un- stained character of a distinguished merchant, lately deceased, after a trial of more than forty years, In the city of New York: " REsoLVED, That the Chamber of Commerce, and merchants of New York, representing the unanimous sense or their body, record the death of JoNA- TrnA GOODHUoE, now no more of earth, with the sincerest grief, and with the highest respect for his virtues. "1 ESOLVED, That as a merchant, his enterprise, his systematic attentioL to business, his unvarying good faith and fidelity, his unspotted houor. and his unstained integrity, entitle him to a lasting good name in the commercial annals of our country. " RESOLVED, That we equally declare our high esteem for his virtue, as a man-for his kindness of heart-his liberality in useful publit enter- prises, and his activity in works of charity-for his modesty-and also for his elevated Christian spirit, and for the unostentatious simplicity and blameless purity of his private life." LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. You may falsify the maxim that every man has his price. t man that maintains his integrity through the sore trials of mercantile life, is one of the most distinguished ornaments and benefactors of the race. Virtue that has never been tried may be spurious; but if it endure this test, its genuineness is unques tionable. WICKEDNESS IN HIGH PLACES. Another class of temptations arises from innumera- ble and ever-present examples of wickedness, in appa- rent impunity and triumph. Man is universally an imitative being. This ten- dency is greatest in youth, and only gradually dimin- ished by advancing age. Hence the facility with which Xchildren are assimilated to the tastes and habits of parents, and whole communities to the suc- cessive and ever varying standards of fashion. This susceptibility to the influence of example, increased by the according bias of depravity, and appeals of passion, is addressed by a twofold, corrupting exem- plification of wickedness. The first is individual, and is invested with all the assimilating power of companionship, or attractions of personal fortune, rank, and prosperity. A fellow- boarder or clerk is admired, almost envied, by an inexperienced and virtuous youth, for his fine per- goo ITS TEMPTATIONS. sonal appearance and dress, his knowledge of business and the world, his brilliant circles of acquaintance, his large salary, and prospects of wealth. At length with a sudden shock to his virtue, this model youth is discovered to be a desecrator of the Sabbath, a contemner of veracity, of temperance, of purity, and of all religion. Or in some casual acquaintance - an employer, or some man of high social or political standing-the habits of vice are disclosed. Surely if these habits are compatible with such fortunate conditions of life; if they do not at all prejudice reputation, social standing, civil promotion, commercial prosperity, and all the gayety and cheer of life, they cannot be very bad. They cannot be very disreputable or unsafe, or such reputable, and wise, and provident men, would not allow them. He suspects himself of credulity, and superstition, smiles at his former ignorance of the world and fastidiousness of conscience. Through such examples, and the direct solicitude aid chidings of those older or more experienced, with some hesita- tion and reproofs of conscience, he resolves Iio longer to be singular, and enters upon a more liberal course of life, doing as others do, and if need be, hazarding what others hazard. As one or two children of precocious depravity, by the contagious smypathy of example, lead a whole 26 1 LIGHTS AND SHAIDES OF CITY LIFE. company of playmates into mischief, where alone none of the rest would have transgressed; or as a com- pany of young men are betrayed into improprieties or immoralities by the challenging example of one more reckless than the rest-so in their respective circles the multitudes of a city are precipitated in evil cour- ses. Inexperienced and timid youth enter upon ques- tionable and immoral courses, surrounded and cheered on by companions; having learned to distrust the virtue of others, they gradually surrender their own. There is also a social exemplification of wicked- ness, scarcely less corrupting, not identified in indi- viduals, but in the community. In a city, sin is made familiar, in allowed customs, modes of business, and amusements, of complex moral character; and is ex- hibited to ad in simpler forms, in a magnitude of proportions and fullness of details that it can be nowhere else. From the social character of vice, scarcely existing in solitude, its facilities for devel- opment and corrupting attractions extend with an extending population; furnishing the resources in numbers, tastes, and circumstances, for the most effective and conspicuous organization; and enabling and tempting men to be more wicked than the same population could be, scattered in sparse communities "As flowers selected from the rest, and bound, And bundled close to fill some crowded vase, ITS TEMPTATIONS. lade rpWdly, ad by oempremon marst Contract defilement not to be endured." Every vice, in organized and portentous exemplifica- tion, towers in conspicuous and attractive elevation, before the eyes of all; and like a monument rising from an eminence over a vast population, it not only arrests the attention of individuals with greater facil- ity, but the assimilating and corrupting observation of one does not restrict the vision of others. Thou- sands are corrupted by the same exhibitions of vice, more effectively and constantly represented, and at- tracting the assimilating observation of larger num- bers. Whichever way you turn, vice is before you, offending the eye, sounding harshly upon the ear, and disturbing the sensibilities of the heart; till by an obvious and general law the mind loses a sense of its odiousness. As, by a long familiarity with suffer- ing, the heart is liable to become hardened-so, by a long familiarity with sin, the virtuous sensibilities are blunted. The prevalence of war, with its ensigns before the people perpetually, in any age or country, diminishes a sense of its sinfulness and evils. Where dueling is commonly resorted to, to settle personal disputes, its guilt is almost lost sight of. Where the law of marriage is set aside, its violation is regarded as a venial or no offense at all. So imperceptible but far-reaching is the demoralizing influence of pre- 2SW LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. vailing examples of wickedness In large communities The philosophy of the poet is as applicable to oon- Umnities and classes as to individuals: "Vice In a monster of such horrid mien, That to be hated needs but to be seen; Yet mn too oft, fai-liar with her Soe, We soon endure, then pity, then embrace Not only is a horror of sin abated, but confidence In the moral government of God is impaired. The feet of inexperienced Youth well-nigh slip; he envies the foolish, having no bands in their death; not being in trouble, or exercise of self-denial, like other men; having all the advantages of life, and spreading themselves like a green bay-tree. " Truly," he says within himself, "1 religion is of no advantage; I have washed my hands in innocency, restrained my passions, and regarded the rights of others, in vain: I am less prospered than the wicked." Thus temptation, from the difficulty of tracing and distinguishing the con- sequences of sin, is greatly enhanced. Those seen successful, triumphant, and happy, are not identified in the subsequent stages of their progress to perdi- tion. They are like a player personating successively different characters, but not identified as the same man. The man we meet, harideuffed and led to pris- on, does not appear to be the man we saw the day before, mirthful over the wine-board. The man we Mt Mre TUPT AT1M2 see In the ward of the prison, with his striped jacket, does not seem like the man who a week before was seen in the best seat in the theatre, shouting enthu- siastically to the progress of the play. The man that we see ridding himself of the burthen of a miserable existence by suicide, or expiating his crimes upon the gallows, is not recognized as the man who just now was boasting impunity in scheming frauds, or in the destruction of the virtue of the innocent, and the in- vasion of the peace of families. The man deserted on his death-bed, in despair crying for mercy, or wandering in mental alienation, is not identified as the man who had been heard blaspheming the name of God, and imprecating curses upon his fellow-men. The slippery places upon which the wicked stand, ready to fall into perdition, are by the spell of the world veiled from our sight, and we are left to ad- mire and envy, when we ought to abhor and pity. As youth admires and envies, he is ready to imitate, and as by equivocal paths he reaches the course of the wicked, it opens before him a broad and beaten path; he traces the footprints of thousands before him, and hears the sound of their myriad footfalls, and their voices cheering him on; and where he would not venture alone, he follows a multitude to do evil. But remember, the numbers associated in an evil 23 N5 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. course do not render it more proper, or diminish its guilt and punishment. "d Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go unpunished." By select compan- ionship, repression of idle curiosity, and laudable and improving engagements, you may escape these influ- ences to a considerable extent, as one would avoid a place of contagious disease, or exposure to the night air. "He that walketh with wise men shall be wise, but the companion of fools shall be destroyed." In the progress of your social life, walk not in the coun- sel of the ungodly; but rather defer to the opinions and precedents of those who fear God. Visit not the resorts of trifling and profane men; and hasten away from the clubs and companionship of scoffers and lib- ertines as you would flee the presence of fiends. RECTITUDE THOROUGHLY TRIED. Another class of temptations arises from innumer- able direct and concentrated appeals to evil propen- sities. Susceptibility to the influence of temptation is increased by the prevailing excitements of city life. The phlegmatic are aroused to a strange and unwonted activity; and the ardent consumed by the intensity of their desires. The mingling heat of ever-glowing passions seems almost to develop itself in spontane- ous combustion; and the least friction of depraved example or appeal may kindle and consume the noblest B66 rM8 TaxPr ATIONS. sirncture of character, with its stately order, mag- nificent proportions, and rich mental furniture. After all undue passionate excitements, there is an enfee- bled reaction and exposed weakness, which invite the appeals of temptation. Not only does this explosive intensity of passion, fostered by artificial excitements, render all more susceptible to evil influences, but there are vast and endlessly diversified combinations and incentives to 'vice, in direct appeals to every particular suscepti- bility. No corner of the heart is unpenetrated by temptation; no depravity, or passion, or prejudice, remains latent for want of occasions of development. TThe traces of original character or early educatioa are drawn out to conspicuous prominence, as the in- visible lines of indelible ink upon canvass when spread to the fire. A feeling of intellectual independence or an undue love of speculation is addressed by the publications and insinuating advocates of a thousand errors. Er- -rors that in the country, without associatiob or organ- ization, speedily become extinct or inoperative, here have their preachers, organs, and conventicles. The faith of a young man is already disturbed by prac- tical neglect of religion, ignorance of its evidences, protracted vagrancy of religious reflections, or by incipient habits of vice. By special invitation he hearm 267 268 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. some new apostle of error, some philosophical leao- turer, examines some plausible book or tract, or is captivated by the conversation of a friend, or fellow- boarder, or clerk, who has examined the latest theory or heard its champion. His faith in the religion of his fathers is disturbed. Giving up the habit of attending any particular place of worship, he gradu- ally neglects attending anywhere. He enters such a course of life as diverts him more and more from proper habits, and ultimately from a religious profes- sion and life. What might have remained an inop- erative doubt amid the scenes of home and rural life, is evolved into avowed, proselyting and practical infidelity. A love of the excitement of games of hazard and chance is met by all the available modes of gamy- ling -from the billard-saloon, with the hazard of the price of the game or the next bottle of wine, to the dark and silent gambling-hell, where thousands change hands in an evening. In guarded, but understood language, their advertisements are in the journals: and their emissaries are abroad, to entrap the unwa- ry, and multiply patrons and victims. The splendid entertainment, abundance of wine, elegant apartments, polite and attentive host, select company, and full bank, fascinate the young adventurer. The excite- ment of the game itself, greatly inereased bv Ike ITS TEMPTATIONS. nazard and hope of gain, often transports to a reck- lessness bordering on desperation. Everything is staked; loans are made, or funds obtained under false pretences; and at length frauds are committed. A passion that might never be discovered in a small community, is here developed, enslaving anti ruining its unsuspecting votary. He follows up the sinful waste of time: all good habits are aban- doned; all vice is springing up as in a hot-bed. If he gain by gambling and lotteries, he has lost the habits and virtue that might enable him to keep it or put it to any valuable use. From the fullest in- vestigations in all our cities, from able and well- authenticated reports, the gambler sooner or later loses character, fortune, and happiness, and goes to his grave covered with infamy. Prizes from the lottery or gambling-board are usually passports to perdition. Taste for dress is appealed to almost weekly by a new table of fashions. A vain young man from the country soon becomes ashamed of his ill-fitting or partially-worn garments, and imagines that true man- liness and social standing depend upon the fit of his coat, the style of his hat, or the shape of his boots. The whole of a small salary not required for his board- bill, and often what is due and has been promised for that, is spent with Increasing reeklessnees upou 269 21 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. the decoration of his person. It is an event of per- htps weekly occurrence in the city, that young men are betrayed into a course of dishonesty by this weak- ness; and an observed disparity between a style of d&ess and salary generally awakens suspicions of virtue. Undue relish for the luxuries of the table is catered to by the productions of all climes, served upon the most approved methods of the culinary art, and at all hours of the night and day. " Restaurants," -cafes," " refectories," and " oyster-saloons," in every grade of meanness or respectability and splendor, are found on almost every corner of the streets. The young man passes twenty in going from his lodgings to his business; and one perhaps is opened at the next door, or in the same building in which he is employed. Visiting this occasionally, the plainer fare of the board- ing-house becomes insipid; he pampers his appetite by frequent and irregular visits; and at length he becomes a miserable dyspeptic, a besotted epicure, and is devoted to all sensual excesses. Appetite for ardent spirits is appealed to from scores of splendid saloons and low porter-houses. The devotee of the cup has no trouble, as in the country, to keep his sideboard supplied with the choicest liquors. They are sold in a hundred places within as many rods, and he can, by turning a corner, or 270 ITS TEMPTATIONS. walking a few blocks, replenish his stores, or obtain a single glass. These places, made attractive by fine paintings, music, and diversified entertainments of wit, and song, and dance, have introduced so many upon the broad road to ruin, that they are recognized as the porticos of perdition. Those who often go there, will never return to a life of virtue, and be known among the circles of the wise and good. Hundreds of abodes of infamy are opened through- out the city, appealing to another class of passions; their hired emissaries are abroad in the citv and country, to decoy the unwary and the friendless. Directories and cards are secretly distributed in of- fices, places of business, and to strangers as they reach the city. Placards along the streets, and ad- vertisements in the journals, assure the passionate and adventurous youth that crime and villany may be pursued at reduced hazards. Fascinating but fall- en women wait at the corners of the streets, and with honeyed words make the overtures of damning sin. A young man void of understanding follows to the chambers of death. As the leprosy of this vice touches his character, all virtues forsake and all vices enter the soul:- "Fugiuat pudor, verumque, fdesque: In quorum subeunt locum, fraudes, dolique, inaidlaoque."' He shall wear the sears Upon his sonil, w; a man 271 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. maimed by the loss of limb or eye, or deep gash upon his body, to the grave. No atonement can remove the temporal consequences; they will follow and beset his path, darken his destiny, and still poise heavier bolts of wrath at his guilty head. His careless levity shall be superseded by remorse and anguish, and- " fierce Repentance rear Her snaky crest; and quick returning pangs Shoot through the conscious heart." From the dark hour of penitential anguish, crying to Heaven for the pardon of his sins; or from the bit, ter experience of impaired domestic confidence and fellowship, and awakened jealousy, banishing peace and happiness from the domestic hearth; or from a remorseful deathbed, haunted by the memory of fol- lies and crimes, and unatond wrongs inflicted upon the innocent, or perpetuated and sealed upon the fallen, and of the suffering of bleeding kindred hearts; or from the judgment when the heavens shall reveal his concealed profligacies, seen by myriads of bright eyes shining from their canopy, and the earth speak- mng from her very unsuspected retreat, and every chamber of darkness shall rise up against him and accuse him; he will view his infatuation in bar- tering true temporal and eternal well-being-the ap- probation of earth and heaven-the delusive pleas- nres of sin, with amazement and unutterable anguish m7 ITS TEMPTATIONS. FACILITIES FOR CONCEALMENT. Another class of temptations arises in large com- munities from the ready concealment of character and conduct. A person is recognized when standing in a field or highway alone, or surrounded by a few indi- viduals; but is unobserved in the crowded thorough- fares, markets, or exchanges of the city, though jos- tled by a thousand elbows, and seen by a thousaud eyes; as among the myriad pebbles on the seashore, or leaves of the forest, a single one is scarcely dis tinguished. A moral twilight rests with ample folds over a city, so that character and conduct which would be known and marked in a sparse community, pass undistin- guished and are often unknown in the most limited circle of daily association. Multitudes walk under various disguises of concealment or hypocrisy; hid- ing themselves from their kindred and their race, from their shame and deserved punishment. Cities are the world's chambers of darkness-its assignation places of wickedness and crime. The depraved and the de- signing flock to them from every part of the land and the globe, to consummate and practice their vil- lanies unknown and unsuspected. Often they pass as distinguished gentlemen, with civic or military titles, bearing honorable letters of commendation, lodging 24 273 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF OCTY LIFE. at the best hotels, and insinuating themselves into the best families and social circles. They appear in public places, and promenade the streets with airs and dress of the highest standing, undistinguished while concerting plans of robbery and villainy, and in open day marking the houses they will rob or burn, and the victims they will defraud or betray. Concealed from the eye of the law and of public sen- timent, they prosecute their infernal schemes, diffusing vice and crime far and near, like the mud-monsters of the ocean diving into its miry beds, and stirring up all the filthy sediment accumulated there by the depos- its of centuries, and discoloring the sea far around by their ponderous but concealed movements. In the country, the approach of evil is like that of a mur- derer in an open field: the approach is seen, and the blow may be parried. In the city, it is insidious, like the attack of an assassin at night, or lurking in ambush: the thrusts and passes are unseen and un- parried, and the shots startle only as they wound. Others, from the adjacent country and more dis- tant towns, known as reputable citizens, upon the pretence of paying a visit to relatives, or some mi- sion of business, resort to the city to indulge in a period of moral abandonment and dissipation. If the light of scrutinizing observation could suddenly per- vade the city as it does the sparse settlements of the 274 Irs TEMPTATIONS. country, how many would be disturbed and driven from the concealed haunts of vice, as bats from their retreats when the light of day is let in upon them by tearing down dilapidated buildings! The same circumstances that conceal the deeds of monsters of iniquity and other hypocrites, facilitate and abet all incipient vice or fraud. By abating the feel- ing of necessary accountability to fellow-men, they remove an essential condition of virtue. Man was formed to be answerable to his parents, to his supe- riors in judgment, and to the public sentiment; and he walks before them with a more sensible circumspec- tion than before the Divine Omniscience. Next to the fear of God, this regard for the opinions of friends and fellow-men is adapted to repress sin and foter virtue. In the exposed life of sparse communities, this principle operates with its legitimate force; habits become generally known; public sentiment acts with facility and pointed discrimination; and the reputation cannot easily rise above the moral elevation of the life. But in the city, a man may escape this amena- ble relation. Public censure-feeble enough when unembarrassed amid the obvious characters and rela- tions of rural life-is comparatively impotent in a great community, from a want of power of discrim- ination and couccntration. We can no more direct 275 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. it steadily and effectively against individual sinners, through the disguises and moveable relations of city fife, than concentrate the rays of the sun through a lens perpetually disturbed by tremulous and irregular motions, so as to kindle a combustible substance. There is always sufficient apparently respectable com- panionship to gainsay and reverse its more righteous decisions - to shield the wicked man from the uncer- tain though indignant rebukes of virtue. A large portion of this reputable companionship, Ignorant of real character and crimes, by recognizing him on ,change or in the family circle, endorse his character; and others, knowing his real character, are yet co- erced to passing respect, from his standing before the community, and his alliance with truly virtuous per- sons. Thus by changing names, boarding houses, em- ployers. associations, and manner of dress, be may with apparent impunity for a long period triumph over law and public sentiment, and continue to share the rep- utation and temporal advantages of virtue. As the consequences of sin are seldom immediately developed, or recognized as a visitation of punishment, they are not feared by those whose faith looks not beyond human tribunals and the grave. In a natural atheism, youth has already said, " God does not see through the dark-he does not know." If, now, his Sabbath desecration, frauds, and profligacy, are un- 276 ITS TEMPTATIONS. known to parents, and to all he respects or loves, and he suffers nothing in his reputation and social standing by pursuing them, all effectual restraints are removed. Thus all errors, vices, and frauds, progress unknown and unrebuked, till they are ma- tured in apostates and monsters of depravity. A young gentleman from one of the southern states, of distinguished connections, placed in the city of New York as a member of a literary institution, and under the care of a religious family-concealed his disso- lute habits to such an extent, that his father hardly suspected his evil course till near the close of the proposed term of his residence at the north, when it appeared that he had expended about twelve thou- sand dollars in the circles of dissipation; had been reduced to a condition of extreme profligacy and wretchedness; and been prevented from committing suicide only by the timely interference of his land- lord to loosen the fatal knot already adjusted to his neck. Now all this was known to none or few in the city for whom this abandoned youth particularly cared, and will scarce affect his reputation in his native state and among his honorable family connec- tions. The most that they may ever know is, that their spirited nephew or cousin was a little vild, rather gay, and spent too much money while in New York. 277 278 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. Such concealment and impunity are promised to all classes, to every sinful propensity, increasing the pow- er of every temptation, and giving new impulse to evil passion and purpose. In its disguised activity, gayety, and unrestrained license, a city is one vast masquerade entertainment. Through its spacious avenues, gardens, and parks-its splendid saloons and halls of amusements-thronging multitudes pass and repass, unknowing and unknown, like those in the gay dance; and often the attitudes, airs, and looks assumed, exhibit a degree of wantonness, or want of circumspection, that are preliminary to, and abet every course of vice. They are reduced to the delusion of a two-fold atheism: the darkness of depravity removes a restraining sense of the divine presence; the con- cealment of city life, of the presence and fear of fellow men. Against this array of influences, nothing can save you but virtue enshrined in your hearts-a deep and abiding conviction of God's omniscience - that he sees through the dark cloud, the shadows of the night, the concealments of bolts and bars, and complicated precautions-and that soon every secret fault, as well as public act, shall meet the fearful award of a final judgment. Thus tempting and hostile influences hover over the crowded thoroughfares of 6ity life in myriad ITS TEMPTATONS. invisible forms, as the legions of spiritual forces dis- covered to the eyes of the prophet over the mo-an- tains of Israel. They infest the path of youth, as sharks follow a navy, or ravens an army before a battle. They sometimes transform themselves into angels of light; vice is presented in the garb of innocence, and invested with adventitious charms. It dazzles through the eye in voluptuous aspects; charms and captivates through the ear in soft strains of mu- Sic; woos through the gorgeous images of the imag- ination; entices through engaging companionship; wins and allures by fashion. The incitements of passion are always present; the objects of passion always available; and the conceal- ments of transgression always readyy-imparting to all temptations inconceivable facilities, address, and power. From their formidable character, it is amaz- ing that so many parents in the country are willing to subject their sons to them, and that so many young men eagerly and lightly rush into their midst. Considering the eagerness of competitors, the small numbers that succeed, the vast majority that fail- many of them signally and hopelessly -the thronging population of youth appears as the partners to a game, waiting with intense anxiety and expectation the rev- olutions of the wheel of fortune in its various, com- plicated, Pnd subeorinate movements. How few are 279 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFR. enriched at this bewitching game! how many are beggared of money, character, peace, and hope! And yet the existence of a brilliant ehance-a splendid possibility-fascinates and misleads. One of hun- dreds of thousands may draw the prize of its great- est affluence and distinction; a few others of the jostling and changing crowd its secondary fortunes; and the rest are doomed to various disappointments. And yet the idea of escaping the drudgery of agri- cultural or mechanical employments, of obtaining an imaginary elevation in socia.l standing, and the dis- tant but dazzling possibility, attract, delude, and betray tens of thousands. Says Rev. James Harper, of Scotland, In a lecture to young men: "' Somewhere about twenty years ago, six lads, my informant one of the number, natives of one of the northern counties of England, mutual acquaintances and similarly educated, went to London about the same time, to be employed in different branches of business. One of the six, beloved for his gentle, generous spirit, on his first arrival, was remarked by his associates for his religious im- pressions, and during a length of time was exempla- ry in his attention to the duties of the Sabbath. Jaunting on the Lord's day was the first decided step of defection, soon followed by gambling and every evil work: next came bankrnptey and fttal d-stiti- 290 ITS TEMPTATION&. tion; his life was, last of all, led in the streets; shunned by his former companions, he grew as cal- lous as he was degraded, and at length sought and found an asylum in a London workhouse, where he died from exhaustion and disease ten days after his admission. "Another, of whose serious character as favorable if not higher hopes were entertained, fell before the same temptations,-married,-lived expensively,- ran into debt; under the pressure of his difficulties, robbed a generous master; fled to America, where he gave himself up to brutal intemperance, and soon died the victim of wretchedness and vice. "A third, losing character and subsistence by a similar course, poisoned himself in despair. "e The fourth was a young man of high talents and cultivated mind, a solicitor by profession, with very flattering prospects. Sabbath-breaking, gaming, in- temperance, with their usual train of bankruptcy, marked his course. He died of want, and his fam- ished corps was found in the night on the steps of a house in Islington. " The history of the fifth is but a repetition of the tragic tale. Sabbath-profanation was followed by dissipated habits. He committed the crime of seduc- tion; fled with his victim; exhausted his means of living; having reached a town in the north of Scot- 281 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. land, he drank to excess to drown his misery, and at last shot himself in his bed. 'And here,' said the narrator, 'am 1, of the si.x alone remaining, to tell the story of their fall.' And he ascribed his own preservation, under God, to the alarm which smote him when his early associates first proposed to him to pass part of their Sundays in pleasure, and to the reverence which he sedulously cultivated for the Lord's day and the public ordinances of religion." It has been estimated that not one in ten attempting business in our large cities, and not one in a hundred commencing as clerks, have succeeded. Their failure has been variously disreputable or ignominious, and often followed by a broken spirit, an indolent, reck- less, dissipated, or criminal life, pursued in vagrancy in different parts of the country, and ended in poor- houses and prisons, by suicide, or on the gallows. But few entering this furnace come out pure gold- vessels of honor: many are reduced to dross, to re- fuse stuff, to be cast out and trodden under foot of society. A city is a battle-field in life's campaign. Skirm- ishes with evil, and hostile encounters are inevitable every where; but temptations press harder and with more various appliances, and the warfare of human life rises to its intensest moral conflicts in a large community. There virtue is maintained only through 28 - I1 TEMPTATIONS. conflicts and victories. If triumphant, you will look back upon the first adventures, and subsequent tempta- tions and hazards of city life, as a soldier returned vic- torious from a long campaign, in which many hard battles have been fought, and many noble comrades have fallen by his side-himself bearing in his scars evidences of desperate encounters and narrow escapes. When rejoicing in the spoils of victory-reviewing the perils and sacrifices through which they have been attained -you may be led to exclaim with Pyrrhus, after a victory over the Romans, which cost him the flower of his army: "Another such victory, and I am undone! " The hazards to mortal life were not greater in the memorable battles of Trafalgar or Wa- terloo, or in the later severe engagements at Palo Alto, Buena Vista, or Cerro Gordo, than those that continually beset the virtue of young men seeking their home and fortune in cities. They are marked like battle-fields and the march of a retreating and slaughtered army, by the traces of desperate conflicts, and heaps of the slain and the dying. But, girded with the panoply of Christian virtue, you may with- stand the fiercest assaults, and quench the fiery darts of temptation, and stand erect and unscathed, where multitudes are wounded and falling around you. A city is the most stormy and dangerous cape that is doubled in the voyage of life: it is swept by tem- LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LWI pests, beset with sunken reefs, and strewn with noble wrecks of youth and fortune! How many splendid barks here struggle against adverse currents and winds, waiting for some auspicious breeze to enable to turn this point and make their destined haven! How many of them will be wrecked without ever entering upon any now road of the sea! How va- rious the fortunes which will attend the voyages of those who now seem moving before prosperous gales! Some will be wrecked on remote shores, or sunk in distant waters. But, observing the lighthouses that gleam over the dark waters, and noting the safe roads of the sea; marking well the compass to remind you of the course you are sailing; searching the chart for hidden rocks; standing off from perilous shoals; steering wide of reefs on which hang shattered wrecks; running in upon dangerous shores with ship all manned, wheel in hand, and lead constantly sounding; and casting your anchor when tempests are rising-you will out- ride every storm; withstand the currents that would hurry you into the gulf-stream of sinful pleasures, and the eddies that would sink you in the deep waters of infidelity; escape ore you are borne away by the gusts of passion, or swallowed up in the maelstrom of profligacy and ruin; and make safely and prosper- ously the voyage of life. 2ft ITS TEM.lPTATIONS. Life in a city is the most dangerous portion of its journey. It lies through -' a'wildering maus, Where Sin hath tracked ten thousand Wqu Her victims to ensnar3; AU broad, and winding, and alope, AD tempting with perfidious hope, All ending in despairI " and no traveler escapes in safety without vigilantly watching against the perils that lurk on every hand. It is swept by blasts more pestilent than the sirocco, more desolating and terrible than the tornado. A pestiferous atmosphere broods over it, imperceptibly enervating the moral sense, paling the cheek and ob- structing the respiration of virtue. It is like some ancient roads lying through marshy regions, where whole armies have perished in concealed bogs. How nany thousands enter here and disappear, leaving no memorials to implore the passing tribute of a sigh over their ruin! It is like a mountain pass, where bones of the slain lie scattered around, and banditti of rob- bers lurk to destroy the unwary traveler. But even from the dark mazes and perilous laby- rinths of a modern Sodom- iOne humble path that never bends, Narrow, and rough, and steep asmnds "- to the gates of paradise - the path of safety, succes, 286 286 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. and eternal life! Seek that path while yet the hope and promise of youth remain:- Come while the morning of thy life Is glowing, Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die - Ere the gay spell which earth is round thee throwing, Fades like the crimsom from the sunset sky. Life is hut shadows-save a promise given Which lights up sorrow with a fadeless ray: Oh, touch the sceptre - win a hope in heaven; Come turn thy spirit frcm the world away I "Then will the crosses of this brief existence Seem airy nothings to thine ardent soul; And, shining brightly in the forward distance, Will of thy patient race appear the goal. Rome of the weary ! where in peace reposing, The spirit lingers in unclouded bliss, Though o'er its dust the curtained g-ave is closing, Who would not early choose a lot like this 7" Wunrs GAYLOm CLEWa. CHAPTER VIII. THE THEATER. I The theater was from the very first The favorite haunt of Sin, though honest men,- Some very honest, wise, and worthy men- Maintained it might be turned to good account; And so perhaps it might, but never wag. From first to last, it was an evil place, And now such things are acted there as mako The devils blush, and from the neighborhood Angels and holy men trembling retire." POLLOu. IP we were to judge of the theater by the degree of confidence with which its claims are commended, or, rather, obtruded before the public, we should yield to it precedence over all other social institu- tions. Its edifices, erected along the principal thor- oughfares, and on the most accessible and conspicuous sites of the city, invite the attention of the passing multitude with as much of brilliant attraction and magnificent promise, as if they were the gates of heaven. Mammoth show-bills stare upon us from the corners of the streets, and from places of numerous resort, with their gay colors, starred exclamations, and superlative language, with as great confidence of 287 LIGHTS AND SHADS OF CITY LIFE. appeal, as if they announced the paramount Interest ,)f all, or heralded some message from above. A large number of the secular press, refraining from any proper exercise of their censorial functions, yield their hired columns and service to blazon the advertise- ments, promote the popularity, and surprise the young and enthusiastic into the most prodigal patronage of the stage. Their notices of " respectable," "d elite," and "brilliant houses;" of the names of distinguished persons that are persuaded, by polite attentions and free tickets, to spend a half hour at the theatre; of the "benefits" of actors and actresses; of the particular entertainments for the holydays, with an almost uni- form strain of commendation, without animadversion or allusion to the unfavorable opinions of the larger and more moral portions of the community; evince a biased devotion that seems incompatible with their relations as guardians of the public morals, and are adapted to allay in the minds of Ifie unreflecting and the credulous, all suspicion of disreptitable association, moral exposure, or pernicious example, in an habitual attendance upon theat rical entertainments. In proceeding to question the claims of an institu- tion so conspicuously and incessantly paraded before the public, and commended by so much of mercinary artifice and appeal to the passions, to avoid misap- prehension, we shall premise three things. THt THEATER. In the first place, we shall have reference in the discussion, to the theater as it is, and not waste time in speculations as to what it might be. The admis- sion that there might be, under a proper management, with an expurgated order of plays, and a more re- putable class of players, a pure stage, would avail ho more toward a justification of the existing theater, than a declaration of the abstract, right of war, tow- ard a vindication of all the wars from the time of Alexander to Napoleon; or than a declaration of the abstract right of traffic in ardent spirits, toward a justification of the present system of saloons and porter-houses; or than a declaration of the abstract right of traveling on the Sabbath, toward a commen- dation of a general arrangement for Sabbath travel- tng by stages, railroads, and steamboats. The pure theater, to which the apologists of the stage have so long been pointing, and for which the moral commun- ity have been with forbearance waiting, is yet but a pure abstraction. Nor, in the second place, can we admit the plea that evils flowing from the theater are necessarily and uniformly merely abuses, to be classed with the evils attendant upon the pursuits of trades, professions, and commerce, the use of the press, and the institu- tions of religion. To justify this comparison, it would be necessary to show that the theater is as specifi- 25 289 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIPF. cally demanded by the primary wants of society, as trades, professions, commerce, and the ordinances of religion; and that the closing of the play-house, like the suspension of these institutions, would interfere with the whole economy, and subvert the very found- ations of society. The abuse of any institution is that which occurs as the exception and not as the rule of its influence, arising incidentally, and not growing out of its main design. ,It implies that the Institution is fitted to do much more good than harm, even in the present state of the human mind, and of society; that good is its natural and general effect, evil is the incidental, man being as he is; for if it be not calculated mainly to do good until human society shall have grown incomparably more virtuous, and thus attained a state capable of neutralizing its oper- ations, or even converting it into something beneficial, it is plainly, for any present use, absolutely bad, neces- sarily and in its regular operation. And to call this operation an abuse is disingenuous and deceptive lan- guage." It would be like calling demented forms, mortgaged estates, and Increasing pauperism and crime, the abuses of dram-shops; or pillaged countries, sacked and burned cities, ensanguined fields, and heaps of the slain, with attendant bereavement and woe, the abuses of war. FOAM. 290 TNA THEATER. Nor, in the third place, is it proper, In discrimina- ting the claims of the theater, to confound it with the drama. The written drama should be judged like any other class of writings, and, according to its literary and moral character, .be interdicted or commended to the perusal of the young. It is studied by thousands who would feel themselves disgraced by the associa- tions of the theater. The stage is but a mode of the teaching of the drama; a mode which 1i wholly inapplicable to a portion of it, cannot be made avail- able to the masses, with appropriate personation and scenic representation, and with its best arrangements, seldom assists the cultivated mind in the appreciation of its genius. All the intellectual impulse, inspiration 4 sentiment, or lofty moral purpose, ever traced to the theater, is due to the drama itself, and has been rather restricted than abetted by the scenic represen- tations, or the dissipating associations, always attend- ant upon the stage. The affectation, therefore, of all the credit of the drama by the existing theater, is like an imbecile and depraved man seeking credit from casual association withi a person of eminent vir- tue and distinction, Confining our attention, therefore, to the theater as it is, in its general and necessary influences, and ,s distinguished from the written drama, we shall endeavor, by tracing its particular bearings and tho 291 LoRTt AND SAAD3S OP CIot Lo separate and combined operation of Its elemental prf& ciples, to show that it is, according to the common opinion of the religious and moral portion of the commumity, an unnecessary and greatly demoralizing institution. THE STAGE PREJUDICIAL TO EDUCATION. The theater, it is believed, does not promote, but rather restricts popular education. At its origin, in the absence of all other facilities for Instruction, assembling the people to listen to the traditions of ancestors, the counsels of age, the recitation of epic and historic poems, and to the allegorical represen- tation of private and public virtues, the theater engrossed nearly all the available modes of social, Intellectual, and moral culture. At a later period, before the freedom of the press, the rostrum, and the pulpit, it may have contributed to foster genius, dis4 geminate learning, and rebuke ignorance, bigotry, and vice. But by the introduction of the art of printing, the universal circulation of periodical publications and books, and the establishment of primary and profes- sional schools and higher seminaries of learning, a system of popular education has been progressively developed, that has at length superseded the theater in every department of human knowledge, by more specific and legitimate modes of instruction. And now to 29a It appears not to sustain even the remotest auxiliary relation to that system, and exhibits scarcely more affinities with schools, lyceums, and libraries, than do club-houses, saloons, or bowling-alleys. It is not visited for the purpose of pursuing investigations of science, settling questions of historical criticism, solv- ing mathematical problems, or of gaining any profes- sional or practical knowledge. Of the unscrupulous patrons of the stage, those most eminent for talents and learning least frequently attend and soonest tire of its performances, while its devotees are more super. ficial in their attainments, and of lower social and moral standing, In its general bearing, therefore, the theater is greatly prejudicial to popular and professional educa- tion. Lord Chief-justice Hale informs us that when at college, he became so much diverted from his classical pursuits by attending the theater, that for several months he almost entirely forsook his books, and was saved only by forming a purpose never to see a play again. Scores of young men, becoming interested in the theater, while attempting to pursue professional studies, every year miscarry in their plans, and multitudes of others fail of intellectual distinc- tion from the same cause. As appropriating the time allowed from industrial callings to mental cultivation and the acquisition of THP, THIRATER. LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIPE. knowledge, absorbing the means that could scarcely be spared from an economical mode of life to defray the expense of a small library and other means of iniprovement-as interrupting any system or habits of study, fostering intellectual indolence, repressing severe application, lofty purpose, and indomitable per- severance-the theater, instead of being an institu- tion of popular education, is a stronghold of popular ignorance, always flourishing most where there is most of the superficial refinement, of ignorance, and of the dissipation of thoughtlessness. Falling into disuse in respect to what was perhaps its original and best intention, it is like an old castle deserted by its former tenants, and left to the habitation of bats and owls, unclean beasts, and poisonous reptiles. Or, it is like a highway from which the general travel has been diverted by some more direct thoroughfare or more expeditious mode of conveyance, still left open with its deceptive guideboards, to decoy unsuspecting trav- elers; and beset along its circuitous route by con- cealed dangers, and banditti of robbers. FALSE VIEWS OF LIFE. The stage does not, for the most part, exhibit true and useful, but romantic and corrupting views of the world. In an earlier period of civilization, when the theater to a great extent engrossed in its spontaneous 294 THE THEATER. and informal associations the intercourse of communi. tes, it may have incidentally inculcated just, compre- hensive, and practical views of human life. But through multiplied and more diversified associations of business, friendship, recreation, and the detailed records of universal history, human nature is so vari- ously disclosed in its conditions, attributes, and pas- sions, that the world is full of its original and writ- ten exhibitions, and no pretext remains for a public and expensive institution for its illustration by imper- fect imitations. Being superfluous in regard to any useful purpose, the theater to gain patronage is driven to the strange and anomalous, to frivolities and coun- terfeits. Traits of common life are seldom represented, or kept so far in the back-ground, as to indicate that they are not an element of interest on the stage. A large portion of its authentic exhibitions of character are representations of the most depraved classes, which are at once exciting and corrupting, as memoirs of corrupt courts, prisons, or houses of ill-fame. While those characters not directly vicious are so overwrought or so extraordinary and anomalous, as to be relished only by the same taste that is pleased with the ex- travagances of buffoonery, the grotesque images of the phantasmagoria, or the caricature prints that stare from the windows of a toy-shop. Advancing into 296 LIUHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE: such engrossing prominence the depraved and the extraordinary traits of human nature, its teaching might possibly convey some practical lessons, availa- ble hints, and rules of etiquette, to those who expect to pass their lives in a land of ghosts and enchant- ments, of knights and beggars, of idle dukes, vicious nobies, and obsequious dependants, oppressive aristoc- racies and oppressed slaves; but it can have no more relevancy to the circnmstancos, habits, and morals of an intelligent, industrious, and religious people, than if its scenes were laid in the moon, or its characters selected from Tartarus. Its odds and ends, shreds and patches, eccentricities and deformities of human philosophy, furnish materials for no useful theory of social economy or public morals, and are a burlesque upon human nature and society. Exhibiting ostensi- bly the customs and actions of other times and for- eign lands, and exploring the secret mazes of the heart of society, it teaches what is foreign to our circum- stances, or were better unknown, or better learned elsewhere. If in particular cases its instructions are mainly good, they are without system, and genei-aily connected with much that is exceptionable in language and sentiment. Contributing nothing to propriety of manners, to the cultivation of taste or understanding, to 'he practical knowledge of the world or of busi- ness, to habits of industry, mechanical skill, or pro- 296 THlE THEATER7 fessional accomplishments, the stage, we confidently aver, neither teaches men how to live, nor how to die. As most directly and most constantly subjected to the assimilating influences of its teaching, the profes- sion of the stage themselves are specimens of its legitimate and highest order of practical education. Having long been familiar with fictitious characters and life, in a visionary elevation to the rank of heirs and heiresses, dukes and nobles, they find it more difficult than any other class to reduce their views to real life, and pursue any professional or in- dustrial calling, and are generally idle and prodigal, if not vicious. Philosophically the same effect must be proportionably induced in the patrons of the stage. Diverting the mind to so great an extent from the sober, the practical, the useful, and the sacred; to the fictitious, extravagant, sensual, and impure, it tends to disgust the mechanic with his homely toil; the professional man with his unromantic occupations; the merchant with his monotonous and regular employ- ments; and to precipitate a whole community devoted to its amusements, into a state of idleness, profligacy, vain speculations, and scheming villanies. AN EXPENSIVE AMUSEMENT. The theater not only prejudices the great interests of intellectual and practical education, but as a mere 297 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CrrY LIFE. institution of amusement it is too prodigally expen- sive for an economical community. Its edifices are erected and furnished at a cost of from fifty to five or eight hundred thousand dollars; a sum sufficient to furnish adequate buildings for a national univer- sity. It is supported at an expense that would sus- tain several hospitals, or charitable asylums; or fifty or a hundred schools for the higher education of the children of the poor. Its professional services are rewarded with a prodigal extravagance allowed to no industrial, useful, and honorable calling. According to their grade of service, they receive from perhaps, ten to a thousand dollars per night. Celeste received in New York, Philadelphia, Mobile, and New Orleans, a hundred thousand dollars in the course of a year. Ellsler obtained twenty thousand dollars from a short engagement in New Orleans; and in Havana received a thousand dollars per night, and, at the close of her engagement, a present of fifty-seven thousand dollars from her admirers. For the profitless and dissipating service of dancing a half-hour, she received as much compensation as ten of her own sex, of pure hearts and cultivated intellects, would demand for a year's toilsome service in the education of the poor; and for a vear of such performances, received a sum that would be sufficient to introduce a thousand edu- cated and pious females as teachers among the rising 29& TBE THBEATR. communities of the west. According to the report of its manager, a theater in the city of New York received into its treasury eight hundred thousand dollars in seven years. The Broadway theater, when first opened, received several nights nearly two thou- sand dollars per night. Alas! what calls of charity, what piercing cries of human woe, would draw nightly from that city the aggregate sum received at its the- aters What claims of philanthropy or virtue could draw it from the same classes If this enormous expenditure were made chiefly by the rich, or even by the city authorities, the evil would be abated. But the poorer classes are as much addicted to amuse- ment as the rich, and seeking it in its approved forms, they patronize the theater in larger numbers than those more affluent. They are just commencing busi- ness, and the price of frequent admission, with usu- ally an equal sum of associated expenses, curtails their means and blasts their prospects. They are journeymen, clerks, and agents, and the expenses of the theater absorb those gradual accumulations that might soon furnish the capital for an independent business. They are those whose home is on the deep, and who, by squandering at the theater and its con- centric circles, their hard earnings, that might, if husbanded, furnish them a home and competence on land, are doomed to the hardships and poverty of 299 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. the sea until a violent death. Or they are porters, apprentices, and nameless classes of vicious boys, who spend their scanty pittance, or steal from their parents or employers means to purchase a check or obtain a standing in the pit. Theatrical entertainments, there- fore, upon the question of economy, lie beyond the reach of three-fourths of their patrons, and hence greatly encourage improvidence, prodigality, and their attendant vices. The author of the "1 Great Metropolis " declares, that more boys in London commence the practice of steal- ing, to obtain means to attend the theater, than from any other cause. The same fact has been ascertained by repeated investigations in American cities. That extravagant mode of living which annually hasten. the fall of so many young men in the metropolis, commences in companionship with the votaries of the theater. VICE ASCENDANT. As an institution of amusement the theater is not only prodigally expensive, but, without legal censor- ship, must ever and inevitably remain subject to the paramount direction of vice. To attain the end of its existence, it must adapt itself entirely to the taste of those classes that are devoted to amusement, and are willing to pay its price, in time, health, and money, 300 THE THEATER. embracing necessarily all the trifling and immoral. "They are such of the wealthy as have neither occu- pation nor benevolence; the devotees of fashion; the most thoughtless part of the young, together with what are called young men of spirit, who want a little brisk folly as an interlude to their more vicious pursuits; loungers of all sorts; tradesmen who neg- lect their business; persons who in domestic relations have no notion of cultivating the highest social and intellectual qualities; and old debauchees, together with the wretched class of beings, whose numbers, vices, and miseries, they are still proud to augment." It is by these classes that the theater is mainly sup- ported; and these it must gratify or perish. Its principles, therefore, must be traced in the passions of the people, its rules of etiquette in the capricious plaudits and hisses of an excited and thoughtless au- dience; its dictates of conscience in the purse of the manager. Without regard to his discrimination or preference, very likely to be biased by professional associations, he must furnish entertainments to suit his patrons, as a manufacturer does wares to please his customers. Guided by the leading inquiry, " What will attract fullest houses I " he must cater as freely to a Parisian, an Italian, or to a lower taste, as to the present taste of the English stage. This corrupt- Foster. 301 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. ing subserviency of its management to the wishes of its patrons, flas sometimes been alluded to by the press. The National Intelligencer for September 22, 1837, says: "We are obliged to confess that the stage has for the most part degenerated, because the audiences have ceased to be governed by good taste." The American Quarterly, a few years ago, alluding to this deteriorating subjection, says: "' Until at length those audiences which alone can preserve the taste of theatrical amusements, and check its tendencies to vice, which the theater is apt to afford, are driven in disgust from attendance upon it, and it becomes the resort of the dissolute, the vicious, and the vul- gar." A few years ago the Democratic Repository, after acknowledging that the theater of a certain city had before been conducted with as much regard to decency and public purity as possible, charges the manager, in catering for patronage, with dispensing free tickets to women of infamy, to attract the vile of the other sex, and thus to increase the receipts of the house. In some instances, we have been told, that in addition to free admissions, messengers have been sent to the haunts of vile women, to invite their at, tendance as the necessary attraction of a large and indispensable portion of the patrons of the stage. These tendencies are not to be imputed to the mere fault of management; they arise immediately out of 302 THEI THEATER. the relations and designs of the theater as a time- serving, and not a time-reforming institution. The partial subserviency of trades and professions, to the caprice and passions of depraved men, notwithstand- ing the conservative influences attendant upon neces- sary pursuits, and the vigilant and interested espionage of the whole community, introduces all their deplored -vices. Evidently, therefore, an institution catering chiefly for the depraved classes, without the 'corIserv- -tive influences of general patronage, and the vigilant -and interested supervision of all portions of tIt caon- imunity, must become generally and greatly demoral- izing. The moral character of any institution must become gradually assimilated and conforimwil to that of its patrons, whether supported exclusively by mnoral persons, by all classes promisenously, or chiefly by the trifling and depraved. As the ordlrly, industri- ous, studious, benevolent, and devout-persons of home occupations, virtues, and joys-never, in atny state of the theater, attend waith sufficient freqfenty -and regularity to influence to any considerablk extent the character of its entertainments, they inevitably find their level in the tastes of the great viajority of its steady supporters-the idle iund the vikious. If it should elevate a higher standard, and its plays should really and pointedly condemn the vices they so fully exhibit, the present audiences would avoid it 303 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CiTY LIFE. as a place of worship, or be restiff, as if under the appeals of a lecture upon temperance or moral purity, apprehending the fearful punishments of vice. Though announcing moral plays with a flourish of trumpets, it must be careful not to disturb the consciences, dis- quiet the fears, excite the disgust, or alienate the attendance, of the abandoned and profligate; and it can never be elevated above its purpose and its patrons. It is as impossible for it to rise to the character of a school of morals, and for the same reason, as for a fashionable drinking saloon, or porter-house, a bowl- ing-alley, billiard-room, or the circle of a race-course. Its legitimate tendency is to reproduce and multiply in the community the tastes, vices, and classes that patronize it. Committees of parliament and of city councils, after impartial and protracted investigation, have reported that deterioration is its uniform law. From compar- ative respectability it sinks invariably to a lower character of plays, players, and audiences. Managers propose and attempt reforms, but every successive attempt, like Garriek's, has been a failure. The tiers from above, and the pit from beneath, unite to shame virtue and respectability from the place. EXPOSURE OF VIRTUE. As a place of popular amusement, under the arend- 301 THE THEATER. ant influence of vice, the theater precludes the essen- tial safeguards of virtue at the very points where she is most exposed and defenseless. Amid industrial pursuits and professional avocations, virtue is suc- cored by accustomed associations, and all the avenues to the heart are guarded by the sentinels of habit. It is at the intervals of regular occupations when this protection is in a measure withdrawn, the mind unbent amid pleasing recreations, conscience sleeping or only half-conscious at her post, and virtue is least apprehensive of danger, that she is most exposed and is most likely to be betrayed by surrounding insidi- ous influences. Home and its correlative associations, therefore, are the true sphere of amusements. Any public institution subjected to the most rigid supervision and invested with all possible safeguards, is not the most conge- nial sphere for recreation; while an institution like the theater, under no moral censorship of civil or eccle- siastical authority, or of the general public sentiment, must be fraught with manifold temptations, greatly facilitated in their corrupting influence by that pecul- iar susceptibility of character fostered by the pursuit of recreation. When the mind is thus relaxed, youth should not be elbowing his way through a crowd surrounded by strangers, or sitting by the side of those who may be watching to corrupt or betray him. 305, LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFL He should then meet only familiar faces -the known, the pure, the true, in whose fidelity unguarded vir- tue may repose with safety. To be moving among unreal and enchanting scenes, surrounded by seduct- ive influences and temptations in such an exposed state of virtue, is like a person in the most enfeebled and susceptible condition of the body, visiting a pest house, or tarrying in the region of contagious and malignant disease. Youth is far more tried during the few hours passed amid the unguarded associations of the theater, than amid the prolonged industrial occupations of days, and even weeks; and virtue that was invulnerable in the shop, the counting-house, and the office, is wounded or destroyed in the playhouse. UNSATISFYING RECREATION. Theatrical amusements, in their elements of inter- est, are moreover eminently unsatisfying, and dissi- pating. In every rank and condition man needs occasional relaxation from accustomed pursuits; but it should be of a kind to combine the most valuable improvement in knowledge and virtue with innocent pleasure. The most improving amusements are those not restricted by their artificial character to classes, but like the richer gifts of Providence in their shn- ple nature available to all. Innocent and joyous Recreation may smile in the sunlight, sparkle in the 306 THE THEATER. beaming eye, ring out in the merry laugh, exult in the elastic step, with bounding freedom trip over the meadow or sport in the green fields, the garden, and lawn, or in silent contemplation wander through the wood and along the murmuring brook. She may drink in with delightful sensation the songs of birds and the sound of the waterfall, or dilate with admi- ration and wonder at the noise of the tempest, the reverberating voice of the thunder, and the roar of the cataract and the ocean. She may glance with enlivened cheerfulness over a beautiful painting and landscape; gaze with sublime emotion upon the illim- itable expanse of ocean, and upon the lofty mountain range, with peak rising over peak and piercing the clouds; or look with rapture and reverence up into the firmament, resplendent with golden fires, shining afar by the portals of heaven. Restricted to a narrower sphere, she may be the delighted guest of every happy home, every smiling social circle; with its joyous and innocent festivities, taxing the memory, the learning, the humor of all; elicting the sharp argument, the ready rejoinder, the friendly sarcasm, and the keen retort; the free inter- change of sentiment, the flashes of wit, and the cor- ruscations of genius. Such natural and social amusements, available to all, so far as any amusements can be appreciated and 307 LIGHTS AND SHADES OP CITY LIFE. beneficial, elevate and improve while they entertain; unbending the mind and strengthening its powers; diffusing over the heart a silent and peaceful joy, and opening the springs of a permanently cheerful and happy temper; producing a deep and unobtrusive mirth, not a mere temporary hilarity, or a superficial and boisterous excitement; refreshing and not exhaust- ing the faculties, sending man back to his severer employments with renewed relish, invigorated in body and more buoyant in spirits; and clothing the face of society, as vernal influences do nature, with smiles. But just so far as recreation exchanges this nat- ural, simple, and social character for a professional and artistic order of entertainments, it is not only less available to the masses, but sinks to less intel- lectual, and consequently to lower and more unsatis- fying and corrupting order of amusements. Subject- ing the mind, like an automaton, to an arbitrary or prescribed foreign impulse, repressing the joyous con- sciousness of the independence and free exercise of the faculties, and removing all salutary and agreea- ble sense of responsibility, it encourages an easy mental indolence, vagrancy, and dissipation, approxi- mates the character of an irrational and dumb show for children-a system of laughing at the bidding of professional laughers. It is like the oriental custom of professional mourning, " mourning men and mourn SW8 THE THEATER. ing women," rending their garments, tearing their hair, smiting their breasts, and piercing the heavens with their cries over the dead. Vain pageant of sor- row! rather repressing than developing the holier sympathies of grief; embarrassing rather than min- istering to the moral uses of bereavement. As little do the most popular excitements of theatrical amuse- ment, though universal and boisterous as an oriental funeral procession, subserve the true ends of recrea- tion. Its excitement is excitability too, and its ani- mated and affecting interest supplies to the mind more than it consumes. The true elements of inter- est in one class of the popular entertainments of the stage, are ingeniously indicated in a recipe for a drama, in the tenth volume of the Christian Spectator, and quoted in Mr. Thompson's late discourse upon the theater: "sSixteen pounds of powdered brimstone for lightning; twenty-four peals of thunder; a dozen bloody daggars; a skull and cross-bones; forty battle- axes; six terrific combats, three of them double- handed; a course of violations; eight murders; a pair of ensanguined shirts; one comic song; three hundred oaths, and sixty-four pages of blasphemy." The tendency of entertainments, even proximately described in their elements of interest by the forego- ing language, is not doubtful. Particular instances of immediately transporting effect, cited as triumphs 309 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. of the stage, throw light upon the question of the intellectual character and moral influence of its ex- citements. Several months since, in one of our cities, a young gentleman exhibiting the airs and appearance of wealth, became so much enamored by the progress of a play, that in his uncontrollable excitement he hurled upen the stage successively, his hat, his golden-headed cane, his cravat, and was scarcely restrained by those near him from offering his coat as a compliment to the elevating genius of the play. Not many years ago the flower of a neighboring city, after one of the most brilliant triumphs of the stage, and in obedience to its generous impulses, harnessed themselves like beasts to a carriage, and drew a famous danseuse to her lodgings. Though these may have been extreme cases, and exhibited the inspiration of wine, as well as of the stage, they illustrate the character of the excitements which support the theater, attract crowded houses, and determine the influence of theatrical amusements. They gush forth with the suddenness and surprise of .A tropical flood, by its copiousness and violence inun- dating the plains, destroying harvests, and sweeping along its desolating course, the property, habitations, tnd population of a village; and like that flood, they subside, leaving a seene )f arid desolation, with no 310 THE THEATER. fertilizing streams, or perennial fountains. Such ex- citements are followed like those of the inebriate with inquietude, self-reproaches, and gloomy forebodings, and at the same time a restless craving for their repetition. More rational amusements, like simple food or beverage, seldom tempt to excess. Those of the theater, like stimulating condiments and the en- chanting cup, fascinate and enslave, but do not satisfy. When their possession becomes joyless their absence is insupportable. They do not radiate with joyous contentment the private walks of life, the domestio hearth, the shop, and the counting house, and open the springs of perennial cheerfulness and happy tem- per; but divert all from the more sober and endur- ing modes of recreation, so that when these excite- ments are no longer available, they are discontented in their domestic relations, and are doomed inevitably to a gloomy and cheerless old age. IMMORALITY OF THE PROFESSION. Another cause of the immoral tendencies of the theater, is traced to the character of its profession. The moral character of a man who manufactures for us an article of dress, or furniture, or attends to some specific business relating to our persons or estates, may be of little concern to us. But we cannot, with- out being recreant to a solemn trust, he indifferent 311 LIGHTS AND SHADES OP CITY LIFE to the character of the man whose profession appeals to our confidence, and demands a free and assimilat- ing intercourse with our hearts; to whom we allow the diversion of our leisure hours, and devote the sympathies and admiration of our children. His character should be as pure, and as far above reproach as that of our magistrate or our minister. But it is unquestionable, that the moral reputation of actors and actresses, as a class, has always been lower than that of any other profession of equal talent and advantages For appearing on the stage a Roman senator would have been degraded from his office; and so little was the, profession respected a half century ago, that they were scarcely protected from the coarsest insults, and often were pelted from the galleries during the time of the performance. Sir Walter Scott speaks of its disadvantages as "being in ordinary cases considered a step lower than the more grave and established courses of life; " and of Roger Kemble, the first of the distinguished family of artists of that name, as "sensible of the disadvantages of his profession," de. signing his son for another, and "disappointed and angry " when he persisted in appearing upon the stage. Mrs. Jameson, the accomplished female critic of the drama, in her sketch of Adelaide Kemble, disclosing something of the character and intercourse of the 312 THE f::E ;., profession, speaks of her as "brought into close con- tact with the meanly malignant rivalries, the vicious recklessness of theatrical life; " of the "1 depth of her weariness and disgust, inspired by the low moral state of those around her; " of the "vileness of some of her forced associates;" and of "artists taken as a class," having to '; blame themselves for the low place they hold in public estimation." Fanny Kemble, disgusted with her mode of life, probably from the same causes, says of it: "4Acting is the very worst of all arts." "' I acted like a wretch, of course; how could I do otherwise" "What a wretched mummery, mimicry acting is! " "' How I do loathe my most impotent and unpoetic craft." The American Quarterly speaks of the management of the stage as "1 contented with the star that chances to be in the ascendant, and paying little attention to the subordinate persons of the drama. Disapproba- tion is never expressed and consequently never feared. The principal personage is surrounded by a host of ineffective, insignificant, and sometimes intoxicated underlings." In the exceptions to this low character of actors, the reputation of virtue has been enhanced by the contrast with their compeers; and none of these, so far as we have learned, have pretended to be praying men, or followers of the Lord Jesus Christ. A large number of those on the American boards are 27 313 LIGhRT8 AND SHADE8 OF CITY LIFB. foreigners, without industrial callings or family alli' ances, having little to recommend them besides melo- dious voices, fine forms, and elastic limbs; and many of them have exhibited extraordinary prodigality, im- purity, and vice. The migratory character of the profession, precluding amenability to any particular community and the rebukes of public sentiment, tends greatly to prevent its moral elevation. The low standard of morals recognized in the management of the theater, making no account in its engagements, of profane swearing, Sabbath desecration, intemper- ance, or impurity-generally regarded, and latelv de- clared by official decisions in different states, a dis- qualification for a common s-chool teacher-dehases the profession by allowing the feeling that "where there is no law there is no transgression;" and cor- rupts the community by investing vice with brilliant attractions, and apparent impunity and triumph. Such a profession, even with the aid of a faultless drama, could no more establish virtue than a corrupt ministry convert. the world to Christianity. Aecord- ing to the measure of his talents and genius it can only assimilate to its own standing, the character of admiring patrons, and a whole community. DEMORALIZING INFLUENCE OF THE DRAMA ITSELF. Another cause of the demoralizing Influence of the 814 THR THEATER. theater, is the character of the drama itself-its stand- ard plays and systematized entertainments. A late) declaration of a daiiy journal, belonging to the body- guard of the theatre in the city of New York, that Shakspeare had been driven from "old Drury" and -Covent Garden," only accords with the universale tendency of the theater to intellectual depreciation. The taste it serves in many of the higher class of its patrons is hinted at in the same journal of another date: "Many persons who care not a sous for music (or for a play) will cheerfully pay a dollar for the sake of breathing the perfumed atmosphere of fashion, and gazing upon the aristocracy of New York done up to be looked at." Catering for those and other classes of lower tastes, the intellectual character of its entertainments is a secondary question. Generally their popularity in- creases the lower they sink from the elevation of rational character and purpose. At one time on the English stage, performances in a foreign language, of which not one word was intelligible to one in a hundred, delighted numerous and fashionable audien- ces; at another, mock fights with wild beasts trans- ported intellectual assemblies to the highest pitch of heroic admiration; and of late the performances of dancing women, in America and Europe, are crowd- ing theaters vacated by the dull genius of Shakspeare 315 LIGHTS AND SHADRS OF CITY C Lt. and the insipidity of the legitimate drama. Oft-en have the intelligent apologists of the stage been mci- tified to see a meager assembly gathered by combiied attractions of the highest dramatic genius, and per- haps the next evening the same edifice thronged to overflowing, with a "brilliant audience," applauding in the most enthusiastic manner, the very intellectual and very modest performances of a Celeste or an Elssler. Sometime since, a journal devoted to the interests of the stage complained: "n During the past week Mr. Hamblin presented a regular succession of Shaksperian plays, to a regular succession of empty boxes; but last night he brought out a new ballet, and the Park was crowded. People go to the thea- ter to see players and not to hear plays. The eye must be appealed to, and not the heart or the head. Nothing but dancing, singing, or an actor who is him- self a show, will attract a full house at the theater, which should no longer be called a play-house, but a dance-house." This order of entertainments, with songs, farces, and mock tragedies of corresponding genius, fosters the superficial character, levity, and dissipation, that distinguish large communities, and promotes a taste for the most frivolous and corrupt- ing literature of the times. The more positive faults of the drama are of a moral character. We might perhaps glance over a 816 THE TREATER. wide range of commonplace sentiments, discovering little to censure. Occasional passages like paragraphs in a paper or a book, standing out with the prunii- nence of beautiful imagery, of originality, or of doubt- ful propriety, may be the key of a play, and de- termine its distinctive character and influence. In a careful examinatiou of all the standard plays of his time, Bedford detected seven thousand instances of real impiety or obscenity in sentiment or allusion. By one class of these faults, either from malignant design, or from the exigencies of its entertainments, the theater has tended powerfully to bring into dis- credit and contempt the religious faith and morality of every succeeding age. There has never appeared, under any school of philosopy, or dispensation of rev- elation, a system of religious faith and of moral obliga- tions, that it has not caricatured, vilified, and, aecord- ing to the measure of its influence, brought into public contempt. On the Greek stage it caricatured the most eminent philosopher and moralist of his time, causing ultimately his banishment and death. On the English stage it exposed Whitefield and his min- istry, and the virtues of the Puritans, to public ridicule. And in different countries it has often represented distinguished piety and devotion, as cant, hypocricy, Phariseeism, and fanaticism. The offices and ordinances of religion, the nature 317 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIPE. of the Supreme Being, the agency of fallen spirits, the Christian virtues, are spoken of in an insincere manner; or in gross misapplication and ludicrous asso- ciations, in order to degrade them. In the general tenor of its systemless and contradictory philosophy, It repudiates the authority of the Holy Scriptures, and outrages the faith of Christian nations, by teach- ing that "all incense is alike before the Deity," whether presented " By saint, by saage, or by mum and to whomsoever presented- ,'Jehovah, Jove, or Lord:" and oftentimes turns the Christian's creed into r& cule and his hopes into romance. Committing itself to no system of belief, and regard- ing none as so improbable, as the one that chances to be in the ascendant, it impairs the credit of all existing means and institutions for deepening and extending among mankind a sense of accountability and moral obligations. Affecting independence, orig- inality, and singularity, as a necessary element of interest on the stage, it fosters distrust of all author- ity, and promotes universal scepticism and open blasphemy. Nearly allied with its caricature of all religious BI THE THEATER. Ideas and associations, is its desecration of the tender virtues and venerable associations of domestic life. Certain "d elegant writers " of novels and popular tales, prostituting the names and associations of home, to set off the adventures of some base youth, borrow their style from the stage, substituting for the venerable designations of father and mother, "old man," "cold fellow," "cold woman." By thus desecrating all the terms and relations of domestic life, it gradually des. poils the heart of feelings of respect, reverence, and veneration, and of all the refined sensibilities, sympa- thies, and affections of virtue. Another class of the errors of standard plays, con- founding the distinctions of right and wrong, strikes at the foundation of all morality. Even the influence of plays like George Barnwell and Gustavus Vasa, where good and evil are clearly distinguished and rewarded, in the nature of their appeal to the heart and the circumstances of their exhibition, is more than doubtful. If the perusal of voluminous records of crime, the witnessing of public executions, when the ends of justice are strictly attained, should be discouraged, as impairing the pure sensibilities of virtue, while they interest and excite; upon the same principle, the most discriminating tragedies may be of corrupting tendency. The original scenes they rep- resent were associated with and fostered demoraliz- 319 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. Ing influences. In their reproduction, especially in the attendant circumstances, must they not have the same influences While the influence of plays of the best morals is so questionable, it must be remem- bered that many of them subordinate the moral en- tirely to the interest of the play, and grossly misrep- resent the relations of virtue and vice. Shakspeare, perhaps the purest as he is the great- est of dramatic writers, is represented by Dr. Johnson as sometimes "sacrificing virtue to convenience," making "no just distribution of good and evil, not showing in the virtuous a disapprobation of the wick- ed," and "ecarrying his persons indifferently though right and wrong, and at the close dismissing them without further care, and leaving their examples to operate by chance." Others, of less moral discrimin- ation, exhibit the most exciting scenes of human passions and actions, entirely excluding or grossly car- icaturing the theory of virtue, where its application should be frequent, discriminating, and pointed. The intrepid daring, the imminent hazards, the exeit- ing adventures, and the startling achievements of crime are among the chief elements of interest in the drama. But the exposure of the criminal to unqualified con- tempt and indignation, receiving the just punishment of this, and advancing to the retributions of another world. would shoek the sensibilities of a gay audience, 320 THB T"ATHR. and reduce the theater to the seriousness of a place of worship, or the dying chamber of the wicked. By the versatile fancy and pliant theory of the dramatist, therefore, the depraved are vested with fictitious vir- tnes and pleasing traits of character; eliciting admira- tion, constraining an apology for vice, and a wish for its future impunity. Robbers, murderers, pirates, assassins, seducers, libertines, spendthrifts, knaves, scoffers, and duelists, are represented as being very frank, generous, and brave; possessing good hearts, though not hypocriti- cally pious withall; uttering, perhaps, an impassioned religious sentiment, or devout ejaculation to heaven, while on the lap of some Delilah; returning gory from the field of personal conflict; or laden with the spoils of recent robbery. Dramatized vice unscathed by punishment, unwashed by repentance, invested, in the elegant language of the poet, perhaps with all the charms of female beauty, all the winning tender- ness of woman's love, and like a picture painted at sight, looking boldly upon the audience, enlist sym- pathy, disarms criticism, and sends away the specta- tors admiring or envying, when they should detest or deprecate. Seeing angelic virtue fall, and deformed vice triumphing over it; and following the wicked through series of brilliant successes in this life, and according to the assertion or intimation of the poet, .28 81 322 LIGHTS AND SHADES 0P CITY LIFE. attaining a happy destiny, confounds the moral sense, and depraves the character. Obscuring the distinc- tions of right and wrong, the confidence of virtue is impaired, her glory eclipsed; confounding good and evil, vice is emboldened and triumphant. Another class of faults in the standard drama, in flames unduly those passions that reason and religioz teach man to repress. The directness of their man- ner of appeal is indicated by their show-bills, announc- ing among their attractive entertainments, " A Wife for a Day," "Love's Sacrifice,"' " Love's Labor Lost," "TThe Love-Chase," "d The Married Rake," " Who is my Husband," etc. Indelicate allusions, witticisms of covert obscurity, aphorisms, sententious with vice, sparkle as radiant points of interest through the whole play. Sentiments of corrupting sensuality, disguised by the gauzy covering of elegances of lan- guage and imagery, without offending the delicate ear, sink deep into the heart, and defile all the sensibili- ties. They are remembered and glow in the ardent minds of the young, as they return from the theater,. and determine the moral influence of its entertainments. Its disclosures of the mysteries of the human heart, and of society, so far as authentic, are generally de- moralizing. They restrict rather than multiply the kindly charities of the human heart; they foster distrust rather than confidence in man; and inspire THE THRATER. contempt rather that virtuous sympathy for his infirm- ities and miseries. They indicate the paths of suc- cessful vice, and excite the purpose to pursue it. Subverting the foundations of delicacy and the pure sensibilities of virtue, they foster all the amazing extent of impurity in large communities, that disturbs the fellowship and peace of families, and precipitates thousands into a course of demoralization. INFRINGEMENT OF TIME. Another circumstance, essential to the present con- stitution of the theater, greatly facilitating and mul- tiplying its pernicious influences, is its infringement upon that economy of time, pointed out by the course of nature and by universal experience, as necessary to the best social and moral state of man. The dark- ness that recalls the bird from its distant and weary flight, to the sheltering bower of the wood, and the roaming beast to his lair, beckons man from the fatiguing toils, cares, and excitements of life, to the peaceful duties, recreations, and repose of home. The pursuits of business, of science, of literature, and the duties of benevolent and religious associations, demand jut slight, if any, interference with this economy, and then the interference is only incidental and occasional, and attended by the most conservative influences. That of the stage is to a serious extent necessary, 323 LIGHTS AND SHADES 0t CITY LIFE. Invariable, and without proper safeguards. In all Its plans and arrangements the theater is an institution of the night, a work of darkness. When shops, and counting-houses, and offices cose, it opens. When the allotted service of the industrial and professional classes terminates, that of actors begins. When those who appreciate the endearing delights and exalted fellowship of the domestic circle are bending their steps homeward, and family groups are gathering, the giddy multitude, without families, or withont their purest and most undisturbed fellowship and highest attractions, are thronging toward the theater. There they enter and tarry till near midnight; and returning home, omitting all domestic duties, can scarcely lay their heads, teeming with wild fancies, upon thei rest- less and prayerless pillows before the small hours of the morning. Protracted exposure to the impure atmosphere of a crowded auditory, and subsequently to the cold or damp night air, often sows the seeds of disease, induc- ing premature death, or protracted and hopeless- de- eline. Nervous excitements continued late into the night, after the exhausting fatigues of the day, when the body and mind need repose, kindle the passions to an unnatural and intense glow, and greatly in- crease the susceptibilities and temptations to vice; while darktess, the common covert of crime, facili- 324 T7 TlWATlER. is and encourage by concealing nameless deeds of infamy. Thus founded in all its plans and affiliated associ- ations upon an infringement of the natural and vir- tuous economy of time, 1he theater conducts a whole train of influences, menacing the physical health, the domestic manners, and the morals of the community. SCENIC ATTR ACTIONS. Another cause, incidentally facilitating the perni- cious influences of the theater, is the brilliancy of scenic representations, decorations, and music. Wal- ter Scott, in his review of the life of Kemble, has described the fascinations of the stage to the inex- perienced and young. " The unusual form of the house, filled with such groups of crowded spectators, themselves forming an extraordinary spectacle to the eve that has never witnessed it before, yet all intent upon that wide and mystic curtain, whose dusky undulations permit us now and then to discover the momentary glitter of some gaudy form, or the span- gles of some sandaled foot, which trips lightly within- then the light brilliant as that of day! the music, which, in itself a sufficient treat in every other situa- tion, our inexperience mistakes for the very play we came to witness; then the slow rise of the shadowy curtain, disclosing as if by actual magic a new lada 32.5; LIGHTS AND SHADUS OP CITY LIF with woods, and mountains, and lakes, lighted It seems to us by another sun, and Inhabited by a race of beings different from ourselves, whose language is poetry, whose dress, demeanor, and sentiments, seem something supernatural, and whose whole actions and diseourse are calculated, not for the ordinary tone of every-day life, but to excite the stronger and more pow- erfill faculties - to melt with sorrow - overpower their terrors-astonish with the marvelous-or convulse with irresistible laughter-all these wonders stamp indelible impressions on the memory; and we well remember the sinking lights, the dispersing crowd, witb the vain longings which we felt, that the music would again sound, and the magic curtain once more arise, and the enchanting dream recommence; and the astonishment with which we looked upon the aplathy- of the older part of our company, who, having the means, did not spend every evening in the theater." Without questioning the utility of such bewildering excitements upon the young in any circumstances, it is evident their associations must chiefly determine their moral tendencies. Show, music, action, and rhetoric, are moving entertainments; and, rightly associated, might be made powerful auxiliaries to the cause of truth and beneficence. But in alliance with the thea- ter, these advantages are in the hands of the enemy and under a very dangerous management. Like 326 TUB THRATUK. 3m7 caimon seized, they are pointed the wrong way, and. sweep down the ranks they were designed to defend. The immediate effect of architectural magnificence, brilliant lights, gay costume, and pealing music, is to captivate the attention, open all the avenues to the heart, lull apprehension and vigilance, and fuse the great mass of mind into a plastic state, capable of receiving from the surrounding influences and genius of the place, a stamp of beauty, greatness, and vir- tue, or of deformity, meanness, and vice. If these attractions allured to the oracle of divine truth, to the path of virtue, to the gate of heaven, they would be innocent and useful. But attracting to a scene of temptations and corrupting influences, they embel- lish and abet dissipation and vice. As the pride, circumstance, and glorious pomp of war, disguise and promote its appalling evils; and as the wit and mirth of the festive board and gay circle divest intem- perance of its baseness, and cover and facilitate its progress; as poetic genius clothes libertinism with the charms of graceful sentiment and venial amuse- ment, and fosters its selfish passions and remorseless crimes: so tihe transporting music, and the dazzling splendors of scenic representations, minister to the depraving influences of the theater. They are in effect like fine music and paintings in a drinking saloon, or other place of vicious resort, lulling suspicions and LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITrY LIFE. imperceptibly allying the sympathy and patronage of those who at first could be attracted by no. gross appeal. They are sweet sounds decoying to the bor- ders of perdition, the charms of the serpent fascin- ating its prey. They are the shuffling manner of a magician or pick-pocket, diverting attention whilo he practises imposition or filches your purse. They are Satan's vestments of light, concealing and facili- tating his fiendish designs. Through them vice makes an insensible approach, and steals upon the young in the disguise of innocence and pleasure. VICIOUS CONCOMITANTS. The affinities and affiliations of the theater with all the vices and vicious institutions, are another cause and evidence of its demoralizing influence. It minis- tered to the luxury, effeminacy, sensuality, and civil decline of classic Greece, and imperial Rome, to the demoralization of the times of Charles the Second of England, and of Louis the Fourteenth of France. It contributes to, and flourishes the most in the de- cline of empire, of commerce, and of industrial and professional pursuits and emoluments. It is now most patronized where there is most of idleness, profligacy, and vice. Its popularity in American cities is in the inverse ratio of their reputation for purity of manners and morals. While in Havana and the cities of thre 32& TiE THRATXB. Old World, and especially of the south of Europe, where the standard of morals is lowest, the idle and dissi- pated classes most numerous, and the grossest vices are quite venial, the theater is almost universally patronised or approved. The most corrupt of these cities, in their most corrupt periods, have supported the stage niost en- thusiastically. Before the "reign of terror," five or six theaters sufficed for Paris; but they increased in the ratio of the general demoralization. Says Burke: Ad While courts of justice were thrust out by Jacobin tribunals, and silent churches were only the funeral monuments of departed religion, there were no fewer that twenty-eight theaters, great and small, most of them kept open at the public expense, and all of them crowded every night. Among the gaunt, hag- gard forms-amid the yells of murder, the tears of affliction, and the cries of despair-the song and the dance, the mimic scene and the buffoon laughter, went on as regularly as in the gay hour of fcstive peace. Even under the scaffold of judicial murder, and the gaping planks that poured down blood upon the spectators, the space was hired out for a show of dancing dogs. The society of Paris was like a den of outlaws upon a doubtful frontier-a lewd tavern for the revels and debauches of banditti, assasina, and paramours-filled with licentious and m90 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFI. blasphemous songs, proper to their brutal and bar- dened course of life." Whether considered in the relation of cause or consequence of a demoralized condition of society, the inference is alike ine-italbe that the theater is a bad institution. Passing from its general to its more particular associations, we find it immediately allied with all the vices. It is ever flanked with drinking saloons and porter-houses, and furnished with several bars within its own walls. The saloons of the Broadway theater, when first opened, were rented for five thou- sand dollars per year. What an enormous quantity of ardent spirits must be consumed by the visiters of the theater, to allow profits above such a rent upon a business chiefly depending upon a few hour; out of the twenty-four! Adjacent buildings have already been turned into taverns, and the fixtures of others, it is said, are soon to be superseded by arrange- ments for drinking saloons; and other new edifices are going up for the same purpose-to furnish ade- quate accommodations for the patrons of the stage. And even in the remote parts of the city, as if claim- ing their alliance, saloons and porter-houses exhibit at their entrance or on their walls, its show-bills, as remote branches of a distinguished family display with pride its coat-of-arms. Its affiliation with the dreadful evils of licentiousness 'TIHE TIHEATElt. is equally intimate and obvious. Walter Scott ad- mits, that "unless in the case of strong attraction upon the stage, prostitutes and their admirers usually form the principal part of the audiences." A professed directory of 'vice, in doggrel verse, commending the theater as the known and favorite resort of vile wo- men, says:- Like ants on mole-hills, thither they repair; Like bees to hives, so numerously they throng, It may be said they to that place belong." Those of less notorious infamy are seen, with their paramours, in the boxes and dress circles. For the more abandoned, particular provision is made in the public designation of a part of the house for their accommodation. The neglect of provision for this class would probably be fatal to the prosperity of any theater. The experiment has been partially tried in different cities, without success. In one instance, the night after their interdiction, scarcely fifty per- sons were present, and the third tier "was again opened as usual." A manager wvas once interrogated by a friend of the writer: " Why do you keep that third tier open" lie replied, he "'could not support the theater without it."-" Why do you allow those bars to be kept in the establishment" "To support the tier." The manager of the new theater lately opened in the city of New York, made a laudable 331 LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. efforts to reduce to less -prominence this disgusting feature of the stage, and abate the scandal of their association with the establishment, by providing them a separate entrance from another street, and erecting a partition in the tier to bar the intercourse of the other sex. But he soon yielded to the dreadful ne- cessity of the stage, and the protest of vile women, and removed the partition, to facilitate the corres- pondence and intercourse of the sexes-tthe real purpose for which so many patronize it. In Paris they have even private lodges, where virtuous fami- lies, forsooth, and individuals, strangers, or otherwise, not quite so virtuous, by assignation, may meet, and safe from the intrusion of curious eyes, and the ob- servation of the vulgar, unseen themselves, may see the play; or, without being charged with dullness, may become absent-minded, or lost in reveries, or discuss subjects and form plans quite foreign to the play. The theater assumes the character, so far as any institution can in modern society, of the ancient reli- gious mysteries, and bacchanal festivals, ministering in their purpose and arrangement, to the worst pas- sions, facilitating and dignifying vice as a part of the authorized entertainments. The theater is the legitimate succession from the choral songs and dances of the feasts of Bacelhis. They are as legit - 332 THE THEATER. mate a succession as has -obtained in the relations of civil governments and religious institutions. The principles and passions supporting them are the same. The wild bacchanal entertainments of feasting, wine, dancing, or wandering half naked through the woods, were no higher offense against the morality of that age, than a great part of the present theatrical en- tertainments, with their immodest dancing and exhi- bition of the " Tableaux Vivants," against the mor- ality of this age. They were designed to facilitate and embellish, or diminish, the shame of vice; and that is the philosophical tendency of the theater,- which is supported, chiefly, as a masquerade entertain- ment of the lawless and vicious. There the depraved make the appointments of tolerated vice; there, spec- ulators in wickedness, old traders and young adven- turers, meet as on 'change; and there the prices current of virtue and vice are ascertained, and, in the various bartering of temptations, all virtues are exchanged for all vices. There are the preparatory entertainments, and thence the descent to lewd revels, bacchanal dissipations, and all sensual excesses. As roads converge, and are more hardly beaten and more numerously thronged as they approach some great metropolis, so the paths of vice, as they approach the theater, are more deeply indented by the foot-prints of depravity - are more numerously thronged by LIGHTS AND SHADEB OF CITY LIFIL votaries - and converge as upon the very Issue of the broad road to perdition. All the evil and inflamed passions of large communities, struggling against the 7epression of law, custom, and public sentiment, like internal fires of the earth, burn and rage more fierce- ly toward these moral craters, ever emitting clouds of error to obscure the revelations of divine truth, and sending forth lava-streams of degradation, crime, and woe, to desolate society. Another evidence of the demoralizing influence of the theater, is traced in the concurring testi- monies of succeeding ages against it. Let not the testimonies of earlier periods be deemed irrelevant to the present time. It has ever flourished upon the misdirection of substantially the same passions. Act- ual comparison by competent critics has shown, that the modern stage has displayed more flagrant faults of sentiment, manners, and character, than the more ancient; and through all its early history, it was under more or less of legal censorship; and in Athens, the stage poet that wrote anything against religion and good manners, was tried for misbehavior, and liable to the highest. forfeitures. Notwithstanding these restraints, so invariable and so great was the antago- nism of the theater to moral and religious institutions, that it has been obnoxious to the censure and oppo- sition of the greatest and best men from the earliest TIM THEATER. ages. Every name of moral weight in the heathen and Christian world, the Jewish and the Christian church, may be cited against the theater. It is not necessary to quote at length the opinions of the Grecian and Roman philosophers and moralists - as Aristotle, Plato, Solon, Socrates, Xenophon, Seneca, Cicero, Livy, Tacitus, and even writers of less moral distinction - identify- ing it with the immoralities of their respective ages, hostile to domestic and social virtues, and dangerous to the state, and even in some instances recommending its suppression by civil enactment. Nor need we cite the testimonies of the early Christian fathers - of synods and councils, papist and protestant-of all the reformed churches-and of their earlier and later divines, so uniformly and unequivocally condemning its entertainments, and interdicting religious coimmnun- ion to its patrons. Nor need we cite the particular enactments of both pagan and Christian states, niag- istrates, and princes, and emperors. Upon its revi- val in modem Italy, after it had been abolished by Constantine, actors were deprived of privileges of the church, and offices of the state. Johnson, Addison, and Kames, were constrained to protest against its corruptions; and Garrick, yielding to the moral sense of the age, made some ineffectual attempts to reform it, Rousseau, himself a dramatic 33 6 LIGHT AND SHADas OF CITY LIFB author, and not to be suspected of norrow bigotry, declared it to be, in all cases, a "school of vice," and used his utmost exertions, personally and with his pen, to prevent its establishment at Geneva. William Godwin, equally removed from the suspicion of fanat- icism and cant, in his "History of the Commonwealth," commends the wisdom of the " Long Parliament" in -suppressing theatrical amusements, as fostering the frivolity and artificial character so hostile to a repub- lican govornment. He speaks of the majority of the plays produced in the latter part of the sixteenth, and in the first part of the seventeenth centuries, the period most distinguished for its dramatic genius, as "among many splendid and admirable sentiments, abounding with dissolute and profligate manners. Every thing appeared relaxed and thoughtless, some- tinies impudent, sometimes tender, scarcely ever with a firm and undaunted purpose." The following is a minute of the common council of Philadelphia, bearing date January 8, 1749: " The recorder then acquainted the board that certain per- sons had lately taken upon them to act plays in this city, and, as he was informed, intended to make a frequent practice thereof; which it was feared, would be attended with very mischievous effects, such as the encouragement of idleness, and drawing great sums of money from weak and inconsiderate people, 336 THE THEATER. who are apt to be fond of such kinds of entertain- ments, though the performance be ever so weak and contemptible. Whereupon, the board unanimously requested the magistrates to take the most effectual measures for suppressing this disorder, by sending for the actors and binding them to their good behavior, or by such other means as they should judge most proper." The first members of the American Congress, soon after the Declaration of Independence, passed the following resolution: "Whereas, true religion and good morals are the only foundations of public liberty and happiness, Resolved, That it be, and hereby is, earn- estly recommended to the several states to take the most effectual means for the encouragement thereof, and for the suppression of theatrical entertainments, horse-racing, gaming, and such other diversions as are productive of idleness, dissipation, and a general de- pravity of principles and manners." Some of the states of the Union now proscribe it by law. All the eminent divines and moralists of this coun- try have given a uniform testimony against it. Such men as Dwight, Channing, Wayland, of different schools of theology, and of different denominations, have united in the most decided and earnest repro- bation of the theater, as "horribly demoralizing"- "a shame to any virtuous community "-and "always 29 337 LIGHTS AND 5flAEft OP CITY LIFE. tending to and abetting licentiousness." Religious teachers, and churches of the greatest diversity of views on other subjects, and nearly all of the moral portion of the community, and the religious press universally-from weeklies to quarterlies-unite in deprecating its influence. The secular press, though to a great extent facilitating its patronage, generally admit, that, in its present state, it is a source of a vast extent of demoralization. We must, therefore, regard the theater as an unne- cessary and greatly corrupting institution. It is no necessary appendage or ornament to a state of social refinement. It is- an excrescence upon the form of American society. It is predicated upon a perversion of the relations and misdirection of the passions of man, as obviously as the ancient and stupendous institution, and imposing ceremonies, of paganism. It is no more adapted to the true economy of social life, than they are to the true economy of the spir- itual world. Its plea for support from its antiquity, is no better than a plea for war, because it has con- tinued from the murder of Abel; or for intemperance, because it dates back to the excesses of Noah; or for paganism, almost coeval with the true worship of God; or for Romanism, hoary with the frosts of cen- turies. The theater is no more entitled to the credit of encouraging authorship, and fostering elegant arts, 339 THE THEATER. 3 39 than paganism or Romanism to the credit of preserv- ing religion and civilization. In their ascendency, they have been affiliated with the history of civiliz- ation, arts, and philosophy; and have fostered the genius of the times, and supported religion. But, like an excrescence upon a beautiful tree, or a wen upon the human body, they have only appropriated those influences which might else have developed the forms of a more spiritual faith, strengthened the principles of a sounder philosophy, and adorned society with the virtues and sentiments of a purer literature. In its present character and attitude to the community, the attempt to conciliate its support to the cause of virtue by patronising it, would be like attempting to ally porter-houses, saloons, or bowling-alleys, to the cause of temperance, probity, and purity, by patronizing them; or like attending the conventicles of infidelity, to transform them into Christian churches. Let the character and guarantees of virtue be furnished, and the name of an institution will cease to be obnoxious to an enlightened community. But if we must be reconciled to this institution, with its present vast aggregation of depraving influences, there is none this side of the Pit against which we can properly make war. We appeal, therefore, to all lovers of religion, of virtue, and of country, to unitedly protest against the patronage of the theater. LIGHTS AND SHADES OF CITY LIFE. We invoke the careful censorship of the pulpit and the press, to unmask this monstrous evil. Some ap- pear not to understand the true comprehension of our Saviour's mission. As if familiar only with a pagan or Roman theology, they appear to discern no neces- sary connection between religion and morality; and to keep Christianity from becoming secularized and contaminated, would restrict her, like the lama of Thibet, to the homage of her temples, and not allow her to interfere with the conduct of life, or the char- acter of social manners and public institutions. But Christianity, declining all such sinister compliments, and transcending the limits prescribed for her by an affected and misguided regard for her sanctity, boldly assumes her office as the moral teacher and reformer of the world. In pursuance of that office, she takes account of all customs and institutions that interfere with the spiritual interests of the world, and restrict her claimed dominion: else, how could she consist- ently be brought forward as the supreme law of award on their character, their authors and abettors, at the great day; or even successfully combat the particu- lar evils they foster. We appeal to parents, possessing the most power- ful and available means of all reforms, to contribute the sanction of their authority and the measure of their influence against it. Be not deceived by the 340 THE THEATER. monstrous fallacy, founded upon an oversight of the affinities of evil, that by allowing your children to go there, you restrain them from worse associations. That would be, in effect, like allowing them to des- ecrate the Sabbath to divert them from profanity; to steal, to restrain them from lying; to visit the drinking saloon, to keep them from a common porter- house; giving them wine, to forestall a taste for stronger liquors; encouraging petty larceny, to pre- vent robbery. It is introducing them upon the broad way to perdition, conducting them half way there- yea, to its very confines -to prevent them from sink- ing into it. Fathers! how can you allow your sons to resort to a place where everything that tends to corrupt their principles is collected into a focus Mothers! how can you take your daughters to a place of entertainment, where female profligates are openly tolerated, and, in the eyes of the whole audience, have a particular part allotted to their accommodation; and where scenes are enacted, and sentiments uttered, that would be spurned from your own parlor Its temp- tations blaze up brilliantly among us, like the fires of Moloch; and in allowing your children to pass through them, you will sin, and they may be destroyed. Exclaimed a frantic mother to a pastor: "0 that theater! he was a virtuous, kind youth, till that the- ater proved his ruin." While the Tremont theater, in 30 341 LIGHTS AND SHADES 6F CITY LIFE. Boston, was in course of transformation into a place of worship, an aged man came in and sat down; and, as he looked around him, -he was observed to bow his head and weep. Being asked the cause of his tears, he said with deep emotion: "0! I was think- ing of my two sons that were both ruined here." Alas! how many afflicted parents have mourned that their Josephs were not, and their Benjamins were not, with a grief more inconsolable than that of the patriarch I We appeal to the occasional patrons of the theater, especially the young. You only go to see a "1 star "- to hear a "new play "-to accompany a friend, or a customer from the country. But you go just enough to aid, with the credit of your own character, in sup- porting the declining reputation of the stage, and to participate in the responsibility of its influence. More. over, those who have become infatuated, and ulti- mately ruined, intended only an occasional attendance. A communication in the Buffalo Spectator furnishes the sad tale of a youth of talents and promise, given on his death-bed, that is comprised in a sentence: "In an evil hour I was asked by a friend to go to the theater with him, and accepted the invitation. From that hour I trace my wanderings and my ruin." A young man of more than ordinary intelligence, in one of our state-prisons, gave to the writer, while 342 THE THEATER. the tears trickled down his cheeks, and his form shook like an aspen-leaf, a similar account of his ruin. The first step of his fall was visiting the theater. The same has bedn true of thousands. Infatuated devotion to these amusements, by promoting irregular habits and exposure, has impaired bodily health; by unfitting the mind for serious application to ordin- ary duties, diverting attention from the true standard of excellence and the higher aims of life, and foster- ing intellectual vagrancy and imbecility, it has under- mined the foundation of mental greatness; by the influence of vicious associations and examples, it has relaxed moral principle, despoiled the heart of every virtuous susceptibility, and closed every avenue to the conscience; and by leaguing a vagrant imagination to the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life, it has tarnished purity of feeling and man- ners, stimulated the passions, and reduced the whole physical, intellectual, and moral nature, to a wreck of worldliness and weakness, dissipation and deprav- ity, sensuality and crime. " I saw a flood Of dark corruption; far and wide it spread, And many sported on the fatal brink. Who never more to health and hope returned; For those who plunged did straight forget their God, And curse themselves and die." 343